For quite awhile, I’ve been trying to figure out how to add text to my images, as I’ve seen so many other talented photographers and writers do. Using my computer programs has given me a total of zero successful moments.
I chose an image I took in the Napa Valley. Of course, these grapes could have been growing in my own Yakima Valley, as our vineyards are abundantly heavy with weighty vines each fall. But the Napa picture was right on the computer, waiting for some attention.
I used pixlr.com/express/ as my first foray into visual + words experiment. This program is quite simple to use and the options are wide and varied. Best of all? FREE.
Oh, I do believe this is just the beginning of playtime for moi.
Mabel, expressing her disappointment. “I can’t believe you did that, mom.”
I’m embarassed to admit that I misused the scissors this morning.
The cat food container was stuck closed. It was very tightly sealed.
The food dishes were empty.
The (in their minds) gaunt kitties were starving.
The husband was already gone, so help was not available except for the above mentioned wasting-away gray girls.
What to do? What to do?
The not-intelligent thinker in my head suggested that I use scissors to pry up the lid.
Not the round-tipped kid scissors. No. Let’s try the pointy-tipped very sharp scissors. Yes. Those will help tremendously.
I didn’t need to be told twice, but grabbed the pointy-tipped scissors and began trying to pry up an edge on the food container.
Just as I was thinking This is not a good idea. These scissors could slip off of the metal and poke me. the unthinkable (apparently not unthinkable, as I had just thought it) happened. The scissors skidded off of the metal tin and slid right into my face!
Yes. Berating myself, I immediately felt blood running down my cheek.
Yes. I stabbed myself on the face.
As Hermoine Granger said in one of the Harry Potter movies, “What. An. Idiot.”
I am forever grateful that God saved me from my poor choice and protected my eyes, nose, and lips. He did not save me from crumbled pride. How humiliating to admit the error of my ways.
I am grateful that the small puncture and slice wound is tiny and the rest of me works quite well.
Warning from one who used scissors improperly: DO NOT use scissors as a tool. They are for cutting. Not prying, digging, scooping, or any other chore. Cutting. Period.
Yes. It’s true. We are a family of Mr. Rogers’ mini-me’s.
I just caught myself making the correlation between one of his daily rituals and a habit of ours.
As soon as we enter our home (sooner for my husband), we remove our outside shoes and don slippers. Coats come off and I add a sweater to keep me cozy, as our indoor temperatures never get above 66 in the winter.
This process is reversed as we prepare to leave. Away go the slippers and on go the outside shoes. My sweater is tucked away and a jacket or coat is worn to protect me from the elements.
Do you remember what Mr. Rogers did each time he came inside at the beginning of his show and and reversed at the end of the show?
Mr. Rogers removed his outside shoes and replaced them with indoor shoes. He also took off his outdoor jacket and put on an indoor cardigan, all the while singing about the beauty of the day in the neighborhood. Yes. That song.
Mr. Rogers was so organized. He didn’t just toss those shoes and jacket on a couch or floor. He tucked away the shoes and carefully placed the jacket on a sweater in the closet. I may occasionally toss my sweater on the washer, but I also have a designated cupboard right by the door for jackets, and shoe racks for both of us.
You have no idea how many times I compare myself to Mr. Rogers when I change gear as I am going out or coming back inside the house. I think his habits were ingrained in my subconcious as I watched his television show. Maybe that was one of his purposes, to model tidiness, organization, and care for our belongings.
And this is a good thing. We are a shoes-off household. Not only does this habit keep icky germs and gunk on shoe bottoms out of the house, it also provides a cleaner environment for my babies to crawl around on and plenty of (mostly) dirt-free floor space for playtime. Mr. Rogers’ transfer of clothes and shoes fits perfectly with our efforts to keep as much of the outdoors, well, outdoors.
That Mr. Rogers was ahead of his time, yet many considered him a fuddy-duddy. I disagree. He was a great role model.
Sitting here in my cardigan sweater and indoor slippers, just humming a certain melody.
It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, isn’t it?
Never fear. Nana had the grands over for a wild and seriously crazy evening of decorating gingerbread cookies. That is not an understatement.
For the past few years, I have decorated gingerbread houses with the grands. But this year, with 3 boys and 1 girl, six years old and younger, I thought gingerbread cookies would be much easier. I was right.
But we still made a big mess, gobbled too many decorations, and spread icing far and wide. One nice thing about decorating cookies instead of houses was that we could eat our work instead of letting it sit around and petrify into cement.
I’m not so sure the parents agreed. But like any good grandparents, we played, made memories, fed them too much sugar, and sent them home.
Here are a few photos from our Gingerbread Party. Notice the series when Gage decides he is GOING to have his plate and cookie (Nana had to decorate his, as he can’t eat cookies yet). Of course when we are all watching his actions, Donavyn chooses that moment to look at the camera instead of eating the icing and candy off of his gingerbread boy.
Tips:
1. Make the cookies in advance. Definitely. I used giant cookie cutters and made 1 girl and 3 boy cookies. The extra dough was used for normal cookies.
2. Sort candy into individual bowls. That way, each child gets the same things to put on their cookies. Or, I mean, the same amount of sugar to eat.
3. Give each child a cookie sheet as a workspace. Escaping candies and sticky knives stayed right where they needed to be.
4. Forget the fancy icing. Just buy a tub of white icing. It spreads so nice and easy. The icing in the gingerbread house kits is horrible and making a glaze icing that doesn’t spread is frustrating.
5. Enlist someone else to take photos. No way could this Nana help everyone, keep Gage from eating stuff, and take photos. Even with assistance, taking pictures of our completed cookies was the hardest part!
6. Have fun! Eventually we will get back to the houses. But for now, keeping it simple makes more sense. And next year, when we have 5, I think I will have to adopt yet another helper for crowd control.
It is absoutely necessary for a stove to work. Don’t ask me for a technical name, but this odd looking contraption plugs in somewhere inside the gas stove, and the flints mysteriously spark and make the gas stove click on. That would be the gas stove that cooks our meals. Not the gas insert that heats a home.
Notice the flint is broken.
Which means the stove is broken.
This piece is only about 1/8 of an inch wide and about 2 inches long. Despite that tiny size, if it doesn’t work, the stove doesn’t work.
Let’s say the flint plug (oh, I like that name) is the bridle that controls the Clydesdale stove.
It’s time for a new flint plug. Day 3 without and counting.
On the other hand, I have successfully poached my first ever chicken breasts for Thai salad and it was wonderful. Much faster than roasting.
Today as I began 2016 by working on a deadline, I had plenty of help.
Too much help, in fact.
This one, Mabel, jumped up right after sister, Monet, left.
I sense a new year trend in my office.
What work? You are doing that?
I think I should help you. Yes. Let me scooch right here.
Move? You want me to move?
Fine. I will sit over here. I’ll just watch my sister.
Mom, what is in the basket? Can I get in the basket? Let me chew on some things in the basket.
What book? You need this book? I’m sitting on it . . .
And so went the day. There have been times when my mind was so focused, I didn’t even see or hear the approaching kitty until she leapt in the middle of work. This was especially troublesome when her paws were wet and a touch muddy.
We have new S.O.P.
(standard operating procedures)
1. Be prepared at any moment to quickly and calmly gather all ready-to-mail papers in a pile and remove them from work counter.
2. Try very hard to hear the tiniest pitter patter of kitty claws on the wood floor. This will give warning of impending assistance on the work desk.
3. Give loves. This allows kitties to purr, shed fur, and roll around on paperwork. This also encourages kitties to vacate the project zone in a timely manner.
Paws up to 2016!
May your year be fulfilling, joyful, and overflowing with peace.
And may your clothes always bear fur from the administrations of 4-legged children. For that means you have provided a home to loving pets.
I adore trees. I love trees. I want to have my own personal Hundred Acre Wood.
Our first summer in our new home, we planted 6 new trees. We’ve since added 2 more very large trees.
Our tree selection and planting usually occurs in early spring or late fall.
It has NEVER taken place in December. When there is several feet of snow on the ground. And said ground is frozen. Shoveled drifts stand all along the perimeter of our yard.
There. Is. No. Access. To. Dirt.
So tell me Tree Experts, aka Arbor Day Foundation, why would you ship my new baby trees to me (in Washington state, in winter, in December, in a very snowy year) right now?
Sure, I would love to plant them. I would have fun heeling them in to grow for a few years before transplanting them to their new location in the yard.
But that is not going to happen right now. In fact, it won’t happen for several months. I’m pretty sure the snow will not melt within the 2-3 days of approved wait time to plant. I’m actually confident that even if the snow melts in January, the ground will still stay cold enough to be undiggable. That is also true about February as well.
So here we go. What to do with my lovely little sad baby trees. And such nice varieties, too.
I am fortunate that I never got around to putting away a large clay pot. Dirt is a different matter. Come on honey, bring me those dead poinsettias so I can steal the dirt.
We are all going to be cozy baby trees and snuggle up in the same pot until the ground is actually ready for planting. What, maybe 3-4-5 months?
My first EVER attempt to make Eggs Benedict. This was a treat for my honey, who loves this dish. Too lemony was the hollandaise sauce, so back to adjusting the recipe I go. But there were no curdled eggs and a nice rich sauce covered the poached eggs and ham. I consider my maiden voyage on the ship named Hollandaise & Poached Eggs a success.
For me, this was Boxing Day – cooking outside our usual breakfast rut.
Happy Boxing Day to those who celebrate in more traditional ways!
Love, Laughter, and Life 