So, I have this sister...

It all started Sunday.

My brother-in-law and his wife stopped over (and their two little lumps of doggy love). We made a great dinner and relaxed around our new fire pit. At one point ShankRabbit went to check on the kid (she was whiny) and it was just the three of us outside. My phone made a noise, notifying me of a new message on Facebook. Normally I wouldn't have looked at my phone while people were over, but my great uncle passed away on Friday and I figured it was one of my family members giving me details about the funeral*.

I received a friend request. At first glance, her name was not familiar, but had my maiden name as her last name**. She wrote a note with the request:

"Hi, I am your older half sister. I would love to get know you and your brother. I am older than you both. I have prayed for years to be united with you all and that is the primary reason I started my Facebook page. We can build a relationship independent of our father...".

Whoa.

My parents told me of possibly having a sister (my father's child with a different woman...before my mom came along), but at the time their words could not be trusted (substance abuse played a role in this distrust, among other things). Upon questioning other relatives, I was told that this was untrue. Many years passed...and so did the memory of this conversation.

Now I know that I really do have a half sister. Someone who I regret not knowing about sooner, but so happy she wasn't a part of my dark childhood.

"a relationship independent of our father..."

I know she knows.

After a few days and a stream of emails, I've gotten to know my sister.

Gosh, even saying "my sister" and not referring to an in-law or a friend is weird.

She has a 12 year old daughter (I'm an aunt?!) and a great career. She lives on the west coast.

Yeah.

I'm still processing this whole thing.

_____________

* - I'll save the story of my great uncle's funeral for another day. But I will tell you that this person is indeed my sister, as confirmed by my father who was in attendance.
** - She only put that (somewhat unique) last name so we'd recognize it as a possible family member.

Garden 2.0: A New Year, A New Attitude

The previous owners of our home built a 7' x 24' raised bed in the backyard. In the back quarter of the garden (in this picture that would be to the right) are everbearing raspberry bushes.

I was going to leave it be and figure out what to do with it next year, but I started to feel guilty. All this space is just begging for seeds. care. life in vegetable form.

I failed miserably at our herbs and tomatoes last year, but after quite a bit of research on vegetable gardening, I know my mistakes. I know what I must do to give my plants a fighting chance this time.

I did hours of research. I tested the pH level of our soil. I plotted the garden (using a loose interpretation of square foot and companion gardening). Now all that's left to do is buy some supplies and get some of the seeds started.

I will take you all on this journey with me - the ups, the downs, the dirt, and the laughs (c'mon, this is *me* we're talking about here). And hopefully share the fruits - er, vegetables - of my labor.

Oh man...here we go...

Friday Laundry Adventures

Ah, Fridays. My newly dubbed Laundry Day. Some of you may think this is depressing, but I enjoy doing laundry. Even more so when I can take a couple hours out of my morning and get all the loads done at the laundromat.

(side note: we did our budget for April and looked at the monthly cost of taking our laundry to the laundromat. My goodness, it's a lot of money! It doesn't seem like much at the time, but it really adds up!)

Fortunately, I found a laundromat that's nearby, in good working order, and barely has any patrons on Friday mornings. I'm selfish antisocial cool like that.

The first time we showed up, the laundry attendant came over to us with a small basket full of toys. Peanut's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and she said quietly under her breath, "wow."

These toys aren't anything special. A lot of them seem to be happy meal toys from various establishments, but by Peanut's reaction you'd think I just gave her the keys to a toy store.

Now that we've been going to this laundromat on a regular basis, she has developed her "favorites" from the toy bin. Let's look at the cast of characters (pardon the photos, but these were taken with my phone under the wonderful fluorescent lighting):



By far, one of Peanut's favorite toys. This toy car has taken many a journey across plastic chairs, washers, and occasionally off-roads on the buttons of the soda machine.


Another car. Not as big and impressive as the first, but this little guy can CRUISE! Often seen on adventures with the one pictured below.


This is the creepiest choice, but she loves it all the same. I get what it is supposed to be [Padme in a royal cruiser (I think? Forgive me if I botched my Star Wars vehicle labeling)], but it's a bobblehead. In a space ship with wheels. No matter...Peanut uses this as her "Super Why!" vehicle.
"Super readers...to the RESCUE!"



And no adventure would be complete without a ragtag group of heroes! I give you...
Angry Man!
Condescending Military Guy! (*pat* *pat* "that's OK Spidey...you tried your best")
and....
Spider Man!

And where does this group hang out in between daring adventures?


On the bible, of course.

When the last item is folded and we are ready to go, Peanut and I put the toys back in the bin and return them to the attendant. Once handed off, I am given this face in protest:


"Mama...I don't wanna GO!"

Though today was different. I think she has figured out we will come back next week (at least until we have a washer of our own).

A short post

What we did this morning:



What do you think the dirt smudge on her shirt means?

A. She's having fun playing "gardener" and asking for more water for her "wah can"
B. She tasted the fruits of her labor...even if it was only the dirt she was digging in
C. Water + dirt = fun mess
D. All the above

* * * * *
The kid is awake from her nap. Time to go play outside some more!

When saving money on a store brand was not worth it

This post was in no way dramatized. These are real events, real thoughts, real action.

Some things that must be said:

1. I adore the CrockPot Lady's recipes - Rotisserie Style Chicken is one of my favorites.
2. I have the memory span of a goldfish.
3. I don't cook very often.

Ok, now that those are established, let's continue with the story...

The first time I made this chicken recipe, I bought a Purdue brand whole chicken. Skinning the chicken was gross and cringe-inducing, but I made it through (the CrockPot Lady recommends this step. It takes a while, but it's worth it).
--
Fast forward to a week ago. While perusing the meat section in our grocery store, I saw whole chicken on sale and thought, "man, I could really go for some of that rotisserie style chicken again." It was store brand, but I thought that wouldn't matter. Oh man, was I ever wrong.

Now, on to last Friday. Peanut just went down for a nap and I had a cutting board, the chicken, and a sharp knife at the ready.

I open up the plastic and remove the little goodie bag of gizzards from the inside. I double-checked to make sure there was nothing else in there. I happened upon an appendage of some sort. I freed it from its enclosure and mentally screamed (the kid is sleeping, remember),
"EWWW! This chicken has a penis!"

I quickly surmised that this was, in fact, the neck (that'd be one hung chicken, I tell ya...)

Now, how do I go about removing the neck? With the Purdue chicken, this was removed for me and neatly placed in the gizzard bag. I've never encountered this problem before. Due to my hands being saturated in raw chicken grossness, I couldn't turn to my trusty intarwebz for instruction. So, I guessed and cut off what I thought was appropriate.

Back to skinning...

It was pretty routine at this point, though I found this chicken to have quite a bit more junk in the trunk fat than the Purdue chicken.

Once I was close to done, I decided to look the chicken over and be sure it was pretty clean. I glanced on the inside toward the bottom (which could have been the top at this point...who knows) and I noticed a section of darkness. Another gasp and internal screaming, "this chicken still has ORGANS attached? SERIOUSLY?!"* Again, the Purdue chicken had this removed.

I just wanted to be done. I wasn't sure how to get rid of said organs, so I completely cut that part out - spine and all. In my flurry of cutting, I nicked my finger with the knife (no surprise there). A minuscule cut, but it still hurt.

Now I really went into panic mode. I'm furiously trying to be done with this gawdforsaken chicken and now I have salmonella coursing through my veins via the cut on my finger!**

I scrubbed my hands no less than 3 times with antibacterial soap, threw on a temporary band-aid, and got to work on the seasoning. After throwing the bird into the Crock Pot, I cleaned up and hopped into a scalding hot shower (because at the time that made total sense). Though not before sending the following text message to ShankRabbit:

I went all Silence of the Lambs on the whole chicken. You can't unsee what I have seen. ((shudder)) Time for a hot shower...or cigarette...or both.

When all was said and done, I had 3 sections of chicken left - the breast/wings/remainder of back and two thigh/leg sections. It may have been in pieces, but the chicken still tasted just as good as the last time I made it.

Let's hope I remember all this the next time I get a craving for rotisserie chicken.
____________

* I did a little online searching and found out these still-attached organs were its kidneys. Ewwww.
** I'm a wee bit dramatic in situations like this. Can you tell?

Coffee Conundrum

Wrote this last week during one particularly intense headache. Couldn't think clearly enough to hit "publish post." You'll see why...

Typically, coffee fits into my routine like this:

8 - 8:30am: household is awake and getting ready for the day. We all grab breakfast. I enjoy half of my first cup of coffee (the other half is either enjoyed in the car later or dumped out/warmed up in the microwave because it got cold).

9 - 9:30am: we drop ShankRabbit off at work and it's time for me to run errands with Peanut.

10am - 11am: Home (arrival depends on what errands need to be done). If I do have the luxury of a second cup, it is consumed during Peanut's play time.


On the days we happen to get up later, I don't have time to make coffee before we head out the door. This pushes my coffee intake until after we get home from errands. With all the hustle and bustle of the afternoon, I don't have a chance to actually make coffee until after 1pm. At this point, the headache has already set in.



This is a critical moment in my decision making. Do I make a pot of coffee just to kill the headache that rocks my brain (subsequently drinking more than I need and go to bed later than usual)? Do I pop some Advil and take a nap (this doesn't guarantee the disappearance of the headache. It just means I don't have to deal with it for a couple hours)?

I haven't quite figured out what to do. And here I sit with a nasty headache and no coffee in my system. This is a baaaaad time to try and make decisions.

Do you have any ideas?

P.S. No need for recommendations of Red Bull or similar substances. I can't stand the stuff.
And if you say I should switch to decaf, I'll pummel you.

A....clip-and-a-miss!

I've mentioned many times how I should not be allowed to handle sharp objects (I've mentioned this before, very briefly). Accident prone is quite an understatement.

Peanut and I went outside to enjoy the beautiful weather on Monday. She took charge of the sidewalk chalk while I donned gardening gloves and went to work on our flower beds.* I wasn't sure what to clear out, so I pretty much made it look like I was being productive clipped dead plants and gently raked up leaves (as the new plants have already broken ground).


Look, mama...soil. shovel. It's really not that complicated.

I was making quick work of the dead plants with my gardening shears (inner monologue: Lalalala clip clip clip lalala hey look, I'm gardening!). I cleared up the brush and put away my tools. It wasn't until I took my gloves off that I noticed a "vent" in the thumb of one of my gloves.

I had clipped the thumb tip right off. If it wasn't for a slightly larger pair of gloves, I'm confident there would have been blood. Lots of blood.

For all the times a sharp object has met my finger(s), I'm thankful this one proved to be a near-miss.**

____________

* - the previous owners were into perennials. Score 1 for the incompetent gardener!
** - When telling this story to ShankRabbit (I mentioned a "funny" incident with the gardening shears), he immediately sighed and said, "now what did you do?!"
I tell ya, my injuries are legendary!

Census. Cultural Background. Panic.

I love filling out forms. I don't know why, but any time I have the opportunity to fill one out, I jump at the chance (4 patient information forms, front and back, in a doctor's office? OK!). So imagine my glee when we received our 2010 census form.

I was disappointed when I looked over the form. I thought there would be more to fill out than name, address, age and race of each person in my household...but that was it.

That wasn't going to kill my buzz though. I still had a form to fill out!

As I happily filled in information and made neat little X's in the appropriate boxes, I screeched to a halt when I reached the "race" portion in my section.



Such a simple question, not so simple an answer...at least for me.

I have a very mixed background, but the main ones are Sicilian (at least 25%, if not more), African American (25%) and Native American (not sure exactly how much - I'm pretty sure it's not 25%, but could be close).

Now I know when they say "Caucasian," this could describe Sicilian...so I was covered there. But do I make an X in the box next to African-American? And if I fill in the box next to American Indian (is that even a PC term?) they ask you to name your "enrolled or principal tribe." Uh...I'm not official with a card or anything, I just know it's in my background. Do I put an X next to "other" and make up some craaaazy new name for my mixed heritage, like Cablinasian (except, you know, with my races...so it'd be like Cablinducilian...or something)?

((sigh))

So, after much deliberation, I put an X next to Caucasian and an X next to African American.

Alright...moving on. Next up: Peanut.

...

Geez oh Pete! What do I put for HER?!

(Another tense deliberation)

I left her portion with just an X next to Caucasian.

* * * * *

I'm sure I will leave some census person confused when they read:

Head of household: Caucasian
Spouse: Caucasian and African American
Biological child: Caucasian


Yep. That's us.

I'm too young for hot flashes

It was nearly 8:30am. I was cuddled on my side of the bed, amazed that the kid wasn't awake yet and loving every moment of half-sleeping in. Just when I thought I could drift back off to sleep, ShankRabbit rolled over and cuddled up next to me. No...let me clarify...he draped himself over me.

He was trying to be sweet and lovey. I get that. And for a while I used to enjoy that all the time. I am usually cold and he is usually warm. It worked out perfect.
But now, to the woman whose internal temperature gauge is forever broken (thanks to housing and birthing a child), this loving gesture turned into me feeling like I was thrown into a kiln. In less than a minute, I had to throw the covers off. About 2 minutes after that I shrugged him off and began the "getting up" process (which includes checking my phone for emails, twitter, etc).

ShankRabbit sits up and says, "I just don't get you. One day you're all 'why do you just jump out of bed and not looooooove me?' (true. I did say this) and the next you're all 'my emails and twitter friends are SO much more important than you.'"

I responded, "you're 1,000 degrees! I felt like I was being baked from the inside. I couldn't take it!"

In a compromise (and a half-apology) I put my phone down, rolled over and rested my head on his chest. He accepted this gesture by putting his arm around me. Fiery kiln instantly ensued and I had to hop up.

Hey, at least I tried.

I suck at putting 2 and 2 together

Just a couple days ago, ShankRabbit and I were praising the brilliance of Alton Brown while enjoying his Praline Bacon. I decided to drink a glass of orange juice to balance the guilt of not eating anything else for breakfast. Maybe I had a half piece of toast...I don't know...I can't remember anything past the BROWN SUGAR AND PECAN-CRUSTED BACON! Seriously! Go make it now!

Anyway, that's not what this post is about. I just get a little carried away by bacon. Mmmmm...bacon....

So, my stomach felt a little funny later in the day. Knowing that my grease intake may have been a little more than usual, I made sure my food choices were much healthier after that.

Next day, enjoyed a small glass of OJ with my breakfast. Same funny stomach feeling. "Oooh, so maybe it's the orange juice." ShankRabbit is not having any problems with it, so I know it must be me (really...orange juice is doing me in?! Whatever!).

We visit our local Sam's Club later in the day and spend a fortune save money on our necessities. One of our purchases? Emergen-C. A family go-to for hangovers keeping our immune systems in tip-top shape. If you've never heard of it, all you need to know for the sake of this story is that it's like drinking a bazillion glasses of orange juice. That's a direct calculation.

I find this stuff quite yummy, so I prepare a couple glasses for myself and ShankRabbit before he hops on a plane to attend a fantastically geeky conference with some coworkers.

All is well (or so I thought). This morning, my throat felt scratchy. Not wanting to succumb to sickness while the hubby is away, I down a glass of Emergen-C with my breakfast.

If you haven't been keeping track, I now have over 2 bazillion glasses of OJ in my system.

Now let's talk about what my digestive system must have been thinking. The first glass of OJ was like a little kid tapping on her shoulder saying "mom mom mom MOM MOM MAMA!" repeatedly. She gets irritated. The second glass of OJ - same situation, a little more irritated. The 2 bazillion glasses of OJ is like a country full of 2 year olds- in dire teething pain - trying to get her attention in the same way but adding a little screaming, wailing, and tugging on her shirt. She was having none of that and unleashed her ultimate fury.

You are smarter than I, dear reader. I'm sure you would have figured this out after glass two. I didn't figure this out until about an hour ago, when my digestive system said "hey numbskull...DON'T DRINK ORANGE JUICE! CAPICHE?!"


Yep. I get it now. Thanks for the punch in the face.

You want more...what?

Waaay back in the day (OK, like 1.5 years ago), we were trying to find healthy, tasty, baby-friendly finger food options for Peanut. We were avoiding products with gluten until her first birthday, so the choices were rather limited. We happened upon something called Veggie Booty.

Observe:

photo courtesy of amazon.com.

It's perfect - gluten-free and full of veggies like spinach, kale, broccoli, and carrots. The texture is just like a cheesy poof, but better.
The veggie flavor is not too common around these parts (the cheese ones are made with "Wisconsin aged cheddar," so of course that's the one you find everywhere), but we've found a few places that always carry them.

Peanut LOVES them...and has ever since that first bag entered our household. Given any snack option in our house (no longer restricted to gluten-free), she will always choose these. We've tried the other flavors, but the family favorite is Veggie (even ShankRabbit gobbles these up).

[back to the point of this post]

Peanut is at an age where she verbally truncates her requests. For example, if she wants string cheese, she'll just ask for cheese (and is very clear with her displeasure if you pull the wrong cheese out of the fridge). If she wants a banana, she'll ask for a nana. Basically, asking for whatever the last word (or portion of the word) that comes out of your mouth.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

So, Veggie Booty...

"More booty?"

Uh...

At times, it sounds like she says "more buoy?" but she is working very hard on perfecting her pronunciation. 99% of the time her t's are crystal clear. I've tried changing the name to "veggie puffs" or "veggie nummies," but no such luck.

Someday soon I'm sure we'll be in a large, public place and she'll announce "more booty?" And in true toddler fashion, if it's not provided in .005 seconds, she'll repeat her request louder and clearer, "MORE BOOOOOTY?"


And what will my response be? "You mean, 'more booty, please.'"

House thoughts (not the TV show)

We will be closing on our first home in about 60 hours. We will be moving into said house in about 118 hours.*

.whoa.

* * * * *

ShankRabbit and I spent this past weekend packing, sorting, organizing, packing, laughing, packing. This state of "half-moving" that we are living in has made for one emotionally-fragile Peanut and mama. Throw in some serious teething and you've got a barrel of fun.

Not really.

Our daughter has made it known that in this time of boxed-up chaos, any teeny tiny change in her routine will send her into meltdown mode.
(see: Bedtime routine. ShankRabbit skipped over the short game of tag they play every night and went straight to story time. The world ended.)

* * * * *

I've had my issues with this house we are currently renting, (you can get an idea here) but I'm sure going to miss it. Every time I feel the least bit emotional about moving (this is the only home our daughter has ever known WAAAAHHHH...) I think of all the positives of the new place (um, hello FINISHED BASEMENT!).

So far, it's working.

* * * * *

Confession time: 95% of our bathroom items are packed up. This includes replacement cartridges for my razor (and the scary Cheapo Razors of Death. I'll tell you all about that another time). The one that is currently on my razor has seen better days. I'd probably get a closer shave with a spork.

Thank goodness it's winter. No one** has to be subjected to my hirsute chicken legs.

* * * * *

And with those pleasant thoughts, I bid you good night.

___________
* - please don't hold me to those numbers. My math is not the greatest.
** - aside from my poor husband.

Crazy is normal for me

Lots of stuff floating around in my head recently - some of those items, in no particular order:

1. A House of Our Own: we put an offer on a house. Offer was accepted. Loan application well on its way. Closing date set.
OhgawdIfeellikeI'mgoingtovomit

2. My cousin's send-off party is Saturday. He's going to join the ranks of the United States Marine Corps. Military service is common in our family, but hasn't come up in our generation. He's the first. My little cousin...well, not so little anymore. I don't think my brain can process this properly. He's old enough? Seriously?! It seems like just yesterday we were watching Barney together.
Againwiththevommyfeeling


Here he is with his sister in '96 or so. I'd show you a pic of him now, but he'd probably stop speaking to me if he knew I posted it on my blog. So, I'm using my favorite one of them as kids. Muhahahaha!

3. I had a very rare snowball of anxiety clobber me a couple weeks ago that I couldn't shake before bed (oddly, not related to either of the items mentioned above).

Lesstalkylessvommyplease

* * * * *

I have this weird thing going on with a few of my toes. After ruling out poor shoe choice and bug bites, I turned to my trusty intarwebz to see what this could be. It left me with more questions than answers. ShankRabbit is convinced I have "the gout" (said in a very crotchety, old-man voice). Thanks for making me feel SO much younger, dear husband.

I'm convinced my second toes are protesting any and all shoes. They are the longest of the bunch - why do they have to be scrunched while the other toes get ample space to move around? Equal rights for ALL TOES!

...

...

Wow. I started this post talking about my moments of crazy and end with anthropomorphizing my toes.

This would be a good place to stop before any more crazy comes out.

(Let's hope the next month brings better topics of discussion)

It's starts early

I have a more meaningful post in the works about my experience the last 3 months, but it still needs some tweaking (a.k.a. I got a little long winded). Instead, I want to share a couple of funny tidbits from ShankRabbit during this time.

#1. This was one of his Facebook status messages:
There's so much of me that I see in her. Yet she thinks she can get away with using my tricks. I don't think so, sweetcheeks. Now go eat your toast or I'll throw you in the snow.

#2. An excerpt from an IM chat we were having. I really don't know how to set this up other than saying she's my kid - through and through.
-----
ShankRabbit:
I sit down with Peanut this morning in front of the open fridge
and I pull out the juice pitcher and the milk.
"Peanut... which one would you like... milk or juice?"
....
....
(.... = baby decisions)
"ju"
Okay...
As i'm putting the milk back, "no no no no..... mill"
um... okay... "you want milk?"
"OKAY!"
as i'm putting the juice back, "no no no no.... ju"
Grrr
"so you want juice?.. not milk? just juice?"
....
"ju. OKAY!"
So I'm putting the milk back and she smiles at me... "no no no .... mill"
So i said to her, "look... keep this up and I'm mixing them... then who will be smiling? huh? daddy will, that's who."
She looks at me with her frowny face... "no. mill."
and she let me put the juice back and pour her milk.
The end

I'm baaaaack!

I'm finally shaking the lazy dust off from the holidays. My last day at work was the 28th and I was as lazy as I could be* until this past Monday. ShankRabbit threw a curve ball at me on Friday when he got such a bad headache that he spent all day and night Friday and most of Saturday holed up in our room with the shades drawn and the door shut.
He rarely gets headaches - and never had a migraine before - so I am ordering him to the doctor (under the guise of him needing a physical anyway. If it was an appointment just for this headache he would never go).

* * * * *

It's official - we will be (hopefully**) buying our first home in a couple months. I've been looking at houses online for months now, but this is the real deal. You know, with loan people and real estate agents and such.

So...wish us luck!

* * * * *

I'm sure it comes as no surprise that Peanut is continuing to grow like a weed - both physically and developmentally. My favorite at the moment: she grabs my hand and says " 'mon...go walk?" [translation: C'mon. Let's go for a walk] and leads me to whatever she wants at the moment. 90% of the time it's for a cookie or cracker. Ah, she's so my child.

* * * * *

We're supposed to get 6-10 inches of snow on Thursday. I don't have much money to offer, but I'd be willing to make some awesome baked goods for anyone that would like to shovel / snow blow our driveway for me (ShankRabbit will not be here to do it). Any takers?

* * * * *

Time for coffee, y'all. I'm not making any promises, but I'm hoping my blog posts become a regular thing again. Wouldn't that be nice?
____________________
* - I'm the mom of a toddler. "Lazy" doesn't have the same definition as it did when I was single.
** - I'm sure things will go as planned, but I don't like to assume...lest Fate punches me in the face.

Children's books

- Part two in my series of favorite things -
(Tangent: Why does Julie Andrews sing about whiskers on kittens? I never understood how that could be a favorite thing...I mean, they're just whiskers. Other animals have them as well. ((sigh)) The pointless things that occupy my brain)

Everyone has a favorite children's book or author. Sometimes from our own childhood, other times from what we read our children.
This post highlights a current favorite in our household (and has been for almost a year now). The pidgeon books by Mo Willems.

We currently own:

Don't Let the Pigeon Stay Up Late!
(I dare you to read this one at bedtime and NOT yawn when the pigeon does)

The Pigeon Finds a Hot Dog!
The Pigeon Wants a Puppy!

My one word review of these: hysterical.

There's just something about the way he writes and the emotional expression of the characters that takes the book beyond a kid's story.

Seriously. The next time you are in your local bookstore or library (*ahem* ...we all know how I feel about ours), stop by the children's section and check one of these out.

Perfectly Paper - Handmade Flowers

I hate to put a disclaimer, but I must: I was in no way compensated/persuaded/asked to do this post. I just wanted to share something amazing with my readers, 'k?

A friend of mine from high school recently started her own business, Perfectly Paper - Handmade Flowers. At first I read her description and thought, "oh, paper flowers...whatev," thinking they'd be something like the tissue paper flowers we used to make in school...but then I took a look at her product and my jaw dropped.

Take a look at this photo and tell me I'm wrong.

I have never seen hand-painted paper roses look so realistic in my entire life. I wish she was doing this three years ago so I could have bought my wedding bouquet from her. The whole reason I didn't go with more flowers for my wedding was because of the waste - you spend a ton of money on something that dies a few days later. And you all know how I feel about things that are handmade!

Take a look at her website or her Etsy site. In addition to the amazing flowers you'll see her new line of greeting cards.

(Seriously...what can't this girl do?)

A series...

I will be doing a series of posts of people/places/things that I want to highlight for whatever reason.

Why? Just because. My life is not all that exciting right now (get up, go to work, come home, eat dinner, spend a little time with the hubby and kid, kid goes to bed, get stuff ready for the next day, go to sleep) and there just so many other things I want to talk about that have nothing to do with my day-to-day life. This is a blog about randomness, right?

So, here it goes. I will post my first random highlight today...like, in 5 minutes. Ready...set...go!

Dust is a good thing, right?

It comes as no surprise to me that my last post was almost a month ago. The last month has been crazy, lovely, stressful, fun, emotionally trying, tiresome...you know, the usual.

Happenings in our household:

• Lots and lots of sickness for everyone
• Work. Work. And more work.
• Trying to handle the ever-changing mood of Peanut - teeth, major routine change, and missing daddy and mommy create chaos of the unfun variety.
• Doubting decisions one minute, then fulling embracing them the next.
  

I'm hoping to have some Halloween photos posted soon, but the child is having a dance party right now. I never pass up a dance party.

Fall

There is just something so distracting about fall. Once the air starts getting cooler, I think "oh crap winter is almost here!" and I try to spend as much time outside as I can. This chick was not meant for cold weather (but I suck it up because I don't like the creepy-crawlies you guys got in the south. Give me wind chills and snow any day over a bug bigger than a quarter).

And that is why I haven't been around much. Well, that and booking our lives full of weddings, birthdays, garage sales and other commitments. August and September were a blur.

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I will be starting work soon.* I am equal parts excited and frantic right now. I feel like there's so much to do before then. Same crazy feeling I get with the onset of fall, except with more sleepless nights and tension headaches.

In an effort to remain in one piece, I'm exercising my organizational skills. I have collected a bunch of slow cooker recipes** so we won't become regular customers of our local restaurants.
Hmm...that comment may lead one to think that I do all the cooking around here. I really don't - ShankRabbit takes on 95% of the cooking duties (voluntarily, mind you. He loves to do it). So really this recipe preparation is to ensure I don't have to cook after getting home from work. And that I can soak up as much Peanut time as I can before she heads to bed less than 2 hours later. Really, it's something I should have been doing eons ago.

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My child is fun. Have I mentioned that before? Yes, there are wonderful moments with a baby and yadda yadda yadda...but now she's such a blast! She may have her dramatic moments of life not being fair (hey, if I can't play hopscotch with the DVDs, neither can you!)...but she's so much fun to be around. We have dance parties and color and cuddle and chase each other around the house. And when all is said and done and she's been tucked in for the night, not more than a couple hours goes by where I find I miss her.

How can you not miss this face?


Note: Give the child food and she'll let you do whatever to her hair.


This was taken at our garage sale last weekend. It's the beginning of October and we've already had to break out the winter coats. ShankRabbit, however, was running around in a cordoroy blazer and/or just his t-shirt. And I'm the one that's been getting sick. Grr...



She understands the concept of smiling for pictures. Here she is saying "cheese!"...or in her words "Theeeeeese!" As you can see she's starting to develop her mom's signature "hooknose" smile - hopefully she doesn't actually have a hooknose later in life. It's not pretty.

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* I just got word that A (the lady whose maternity leave I'm covering) went into labor early yesterday morning (30+ days early. Yikes!). I really should be starting work NOW, but since I can't leave the child at home, I have to wait until her official first day of daycare. Could you imagine the absolute brain-chaos I'd be experiencing if I had to start right now?

** I sufficiently scoured the CrockPot Lady's archives for yumminess and I could use a few more ideas. Have any recipes to share?