Winter Weekend

Little pine.

Boy Scouts plan ahead.

One snow boy.

The boys have been crazy about icicles.

Winter home.

Snow Hubbers.

Holly...most of the berries have been eaten by birds.

Half frozen creek.

Camillia that froze before fully blooming.

Food for the birds (or raccoons).

Another snow boy.

Best Road Conversation

This morning, I dropped Matthew off at school.

Michael was still in the backseat with his beloved

Kitty (a stuffed dog) and Blue Blankie.

As I drove down the highway, a little voice piped up from the backseat:
"Mommy, I want to ask Jesus into my heart."
"Right now?" I asked.
"Yes, right now," he said.
So, we talked about what that means.
And then we prayed - me with my eyes still open since I was driving.
"Mommy, I have Jesus in my heart now!" he cried.
"And you know what that means? I'm a Christian!"
When I looked in the rearview mirror,

there was a happy grin on his face.

And on mine.

Wee Paws

Today Matthew asked me what I would choose if I could have anything I wanted. Raise your hand if you think he might be asking that question so that I could ask it of him in return. Now, move two seats forward if you think he may have then given me at least three items he would like for next Christmas. And then move to the head of the class if you think I'm not cringing a bit at my son's materialism at age seven.

But anyway, here's what I told him: there isn't anything I specifically want, but what I would love to do would be to write and take pictures to my heart's content. The writing, obviously in the form of this blog, is happening, but the photography has really fallen off since about August. Despite working outside the home only two days a week, I am finding myself putting in lots of job hours at home. And then add in all the household stuff that seems to get kind of halfway done, and I'm either too drained physically or emotionally to be very creative. Boo!

So, my Newest Biggest Fan (hi Janet!) has been encouraging me to get out with my camera and play again. She is a graphic designer and takes some really interesting pictures. Melissa was really good about pushing me to play with my camera this past fall, too, but did I keep up with it, heck no! "Picture A Day" blog?? What's that?? So, back to Janet, I decided to use a bit of my Wednesday morning to get out and shoot away. Among several others, I took this one down at our creek. As you well know, we have lots of interesting critters around our home that you can read about here and here and here.

I just love these little paw prints. It amazes me how much they look like human hands, although of course they are possum or raccoon. Although I did smell a skunk-y smell around outside our house this morning. If you look closely at the tips of the paw on the left, you can see claw indentions.

I Love My Psycho Dog

Whew! What's with all the posts in the last few days? Man, it's like I just won't shut up now! Lucky you, yes?

OK. So, Lucy has the potty thing figured out. And she does great on her walks with the leash. And she follows the command for "sit." And then we started to try to teach her to "fetch."

Being the Dog Sap that I am, I've bought her all kinds of toys. It's actually been kind of sad to find that she really doesn't know how to play with any of them and looks at me like "what in the world are you doing giving me this when I have carpet [in her crate, so it's OK with me] to chew?" Anyway, one of the toys I bought was a stuffed chicken. "Chicken" is a strong word to describe it as it is just a stuffed tube of cloth with a beak and comb that has a squeaker inside. But oh, does she love it. So, I thought it would be the perfect thing to use to teach her to fetch. And that worked just great. She would fetch it every time I would throw it. And then the kids wanted in on the action, and she just kept trotting after Chicken and bringing it back. And then she hopped up onto the couch with Chicken in her mouth. And then she started "snapping" [a strong term] at any of us that attempted to take her Chicken away. So, Chicken got relegated to her crate where she stays when we are gone or at night.

But did that deter her? Heavens no! She's no dummy dog. She'll just trot right on up to Michael's room and find herself another buddy. Or three, as seen above. She does look a smidge demonic with those glowing eyes. Either that, or totally busted/deer in the headlights. If Michael saw this sight, he would be so freaking out right now. He and Lucy have this passive aggressive thing going with her pilfered buddies.

Here's ole Lucy arranging them to her liking. She is so crazy. But sweet. She tucks them under her chin, curls up and goes right to sleep. According to one website I checked out:

Why do dogs loved stuffed toys? Well, it seems we all loved stuffed toys.

Adults have them, kids love them, cats play with stuffed mice, and

dogs claim them to kill it, claim it, or just to love it.

It's just so crazy funny to me. Although I grew up with dogs, our dogs never needed this kind of comfort toy. Poor little Lu. Maybe more signs of coming from an abusive home? Maybe it's just innate - who knows. But as long as I can convince Michael to "share" a bit with our Lu (she's not actually choosing his most "special" buddies so far), I don't mind.

Frankly, I'm just glad I haven't found her trotting around with Su Su Prettiness in her jaws to date.

Blonde-o-licious

Gracious. I had no idea that there would be such a response to that last post, both in comments on the blog itself and on Facebook. Umm...and evidently I am delinquent in not putting on a picture before of the new and en-blonded me. This picture was taken at the end of the day today with air dried hair, no product, and little make-up. I didn't want to be too smokin' for y'all. So, here you go:

See? I'm already rockin' some dark roots. I believe our technique could benefit from a little work. My blog profile picture (on the right) has my hair looking a little darker than it really is (ummm, or was), but these two pics give you a nice little side before and after comparison. All for your entertainment. 'Cause I'm sweet that way.

Waiting For the Jokes To Roll In

FYI - I'm cheap, although, I prefer to think of myself as Thrifty Chic. I buy generic groceries. My favorite restaurant - cringe away - is McDonald's. I'll buy furniture at the Rescue Mission and refinish it rather than buy new. So, when I've been fixing my hair in the mirror in the past few weeks and reflecting on it's, well, non-summery-blondiness, I decided that Alan and I could easily give me highlights for my winter-dull hair with one of those "kits" you can pick up at Wal-Mart.

Perhaps "cheap" isn't always the best route to go. Gold star for you if you can deduce where this post might be headed. So, here's the scene:

The boys were finishing up dessert while I put on the lovely plastic bonnet that came with the "kit". I was like little Red Riding Hood without the red and the basket of cookies. Now, this is not the first time I'd done this, but it was the first time that I enlisted the help of the ever-faithful hubbers. My BFF Andrea has helped me do this before, but as she is an hour and a half away, her assistance was not a possibility. But no biggie, right? How hard could it be?

The "kit" [side note: I LOVE that word. I love the way it sounds and the way it feels when you say it. Kit, kit, KIT!] came with two crochet-needle style hooks: one for subtle highlights and one for a more bold look. Which to choose, which to choose? Obviously a no brainer. If I'm willing to blog my innermost secrets with the internet, I'm clearly of bold material, yes?

And so, we began. After deciding that we were going to use all the holes with circles around them above ear-level on the cap, Alan set to work. He pushed the hook through the hole, twisted it in the requisite half-turn, and pulled out...nothing. "Honey!" I cried, exasperation filling my voice (ummm...and this was only on Hole One, so you might be able to interpolate how my attitude was less than patient from there on out). We deduced that while he poked through the outer plastic, he didn't protrude through the inner plastic lining. Alan, with resolve firmly in hand, tried, tried again. By possibly attempting to bore a hole in my skull. Good heavenly days! But at least three strands of hair came through this time, so we're on our way. Only I was quite sure it's supposed to be more than that coming through ONE hole, so I had him try to pull out a bit more. My hubbers, ever the patient man, returned the hook one more time through that hole, and pulled through what can only be described as a clump. A CLUMP. Provoked with his male "all or nothing" perspective on life, I gave him a brief lecture on the consistency of hair pulling for highlights, pushed the CLUMP back in, and set my jaw to continue. Fortunately, I was seated at the dining room table where I was easily able to observe the process and keep tabs on the visual of my hubber's progress through the reflection on the window on the opposite wall. I'm sure he was grateful for my assistance, as well.

And so, we proceeded. Me, enduring the head boring, the stricken expressions on my hubber's face, and all the incessant hair pulling, and him enduring the yelps, screeches, and flinching from me. And perhaps my bossiness. And my criticism. And my alien-like appearance.

And so, we finally, FINALLY completed the hair pulling process. The boys were cackling away like chickens at my appearance. I figured this was good life lessons for them of what's to come for them some day in marriage. All for $6.99.

At this point, it was time to mix up the potions and brew and slap it onto those little remnants of hair sticking out of the cap. The long, long instructions suggested doing a "preliminary test strand" before attempting this concoction on the real deal. But that? Is for sissies. And me? Well, no! I'm a bold girl, remember? And besides, I've done this before with Andrea. And I remember using the shortest time with her. And I remember there wasn't any real difference in my hair color from beginning to end. So, surely going the longest amount of time for "Medium to Dark Blonde" hair is the route for me.

I got busy working on an endless supply of work stuff on the computer (read: a smidge of work stuff and a whole lot of Facebook), all the while smelling like I had mixed Comet with water and scrubbed it on my head (no dry erase markings this time!). Lucy, who was snuggled beside me, didn't seem to mind the smell - probably because she is so odoriferous herself, and Alan had wisely escaped the wrath of his wife and her musk to the safe confines of the living room. So, 40-ish minutes later, I leaned over the tub and washed the foul-smelling chemicals off my bonnet head and then hopped in the shower for the shampoo part, sans bonnet (well, sans everything - no visuals, please).

And when I hopped back out and checked out my towel-dried head in the mirror, I noticed that my hair seemed very blonde. Blonde in not-so-much of a highlighty way. More in a B.L.O.N.D.E. way. All over blonde. And, where there's not blonde, there's BLONDE. With all the blondiness. Followed by more blonde. But you know, when your hair is wet, the highlights always stand out more, right? Surely after I blow dry it, it will be more subtle, yes?

Or no.

Wow.

Because It's Felt Like 400 Degrees Below Zero Lately

It's been quite a while since I've shared a recipe with y'all, but this one combines two of my favorite things in the world: soup and my slow cooker. It's been frigid lately, which makes my early morning walks with Lucy nippy (PEE, Dog! PEE!), and my afternoon walks just slightly less miserable (weather-wise...love me some doggie walks). This is just the time of year when hibernating and hot soup make sense.

I adore this blog and have run to it for several recipes before. How can you not love coming home after being gone all day to a ready made meal? Especially when that meal is SOUP, and you have icicles melting off your nose as you walk through the door. It's almost as good as having your own cook. Well, not really, but I'm willing to compromise, 'k?

Slow Cooker Baked Potato Soup

Prep Time: 15 minutes
Total Time: 4 hours-ish or 8 hours if you are a little more on the ball
Makes: a whole vat of soup - at least enough for two meals

* 5 pounds of potatoes (I used russets), peeled and diced into 1-inch chunks

* 1 teeny onion, diced

* 4 cloves garlic, minced

* 1 teaspoon seasoned salt (whoops - just read the "seasoned" part now - I actually used just regular salt, which turned out fine...use your discretion)

* 1/2 teaspoon black pepper

* 1/2 teaspoon red pepper

* 2 quarts chicken broth

* 2 (8 oz) packages of cream cheese, to be added at the end

Peel (or not...couldn't we all use a little more fiber in our lives? Well, not Lucy, maybe, but the rest of us...I chose to leave the skins on) and dice the potatoes and put them in the stoneware. Add onion and garlic. Sprinkle in the seasonings, and pour in the broth. Cover and cook on low for eight hours or (forget to do that earlier in the day and resort to turning it) on high for four hours. The potatoes should be fork tender. You can use a potato masher to mash the potatoes in the pot or a hand-held immersible blender. Or, skip that step and leave the potatoes chunky (chunky like I am tonight after eating potato chips and brownies for dinner). After smashing the potatoes, crumble in both packages of cream cheese, and put the lid back on. Cook on high for about 30 minutes, or until the cream cheese is completely dissolved. Stir a few times during the 30 minutes. Garnish with crumbled bacon, green onion or chives, or shredded cheddar.

Michael and Alan and I loved this and well, licked our bowls, but our precious son, Picky Pants Matthew, was a bit disturbed by a few small bits of cream cheese that remained. Such that coercion was involved to get him to finish his dinner. Sigh. According to family reports, I am raising the clone of my husband at age 7.

How Work Occasionally Supports My Blogging Habit

- OR - How Do I Not Have Grey (Gray? sp?) Hair Yet?

- OR - How Am I 36 and Don't Know How To Spell The Word Grey/Gray?

Well, that last title option has nothing to do with this post, but it's certainly applicable.

Anyway, long time, no blog. To update you, since several have asked, my Lucy Girl is doing fabulous. As in F.A.B.U.L.O.U.S.! Turns out, once you give her some de-worm medicine, the diahrea (don't know how to spell that either) actually goes away. Since about the day after Christmas (a Christmas present!), Lucy has been doing all of her poopies outside. She has also been good about peeing outside, and it's been weeks since she's had an accident in the house.

Alan and I have gotten into a routine such that we feed her breakfast first thing when we get up, and then about 15 minutes later, she goes for a short walk. Sometime during that walk she does her bi'ness in both regards. And then she is good until late afternoon. This is so, so helpful when I work and am gone all day. Then, late afternoon, we repeat. Sometimes I throw in an extra walkie just for the heck of it around noon. She loves going for walks and does really well on a leash.

So, on the days that I work, Alan has been taking her for her Morning Walkie so I can have time to get ready and get the kiddos up (well, as you might know, Matthew is up at Literal Crack O' Dawn) and going. When Alan came back this morning, he informed me that Lucy had peed, but had not done poopies. Sometimes this happens. When it was time to leave, the boys and I just tucked her in her crate and headed off in our own directions.

Well, as I arrived at my first daycare today, I realized that I left The Notebook at home. This is my notebook with all of my children's goals, data sheets, time sheets, etc. in it. While I probably could manage to do a morning of speech therapy without it, it's a lot harder without it to "guide" me. Since I have a home visit somewhat near our house, I finished my session at that first daycare, and decided to head home, grab my notebook and laptop, and then head on to the home visit. And since my Lu Girl hadn't done her poopie yet, I figured it wouldn't hurt to let her out for a few minutes while I was there.

She and I took a short walk down the street to a spot where she really likes to sniff and potty. Well, she likes to sniff everywhere, but I am learning to discern her Potty Sniff from her Everything Else Sniff. She started to appear to do the telltale hump back, and then! All of a sudden! There was Hammering! DISTRACTION! She's an easily distracted dog, and the construction going on up the street was not helping. I was just about to get her back on track, when again, all of a sudden there was...Electric Sawing! ELECTRIC SAWING!!!!!

THE HORROR!!!

I don't know what it was about that sound that Freaked Her The Heck Out, but clearly, she was having none of it. That little 17-pound dog ripped the leash out of my hand and tore off up the street with the leash bouncing along behind her. Seriously, I have never seen a dog run so fast. I stood there stunned for about five seconds watching my doggie disappearing before my eyes before I started running after her. [Side note: a month of no running and eating crud makes for a slow run. Further note to self : do not brag about ten pound weight loss on your blog lest it all come creeping back during Month O' Illness]. Unbelievably, when Lucy crested the hill [all the while I am praying that a) no cars would come down the road at that moment and hit either one of us, and b) that no neighbors are peeking out the window at that moment and witnessing this debacle], she turned right and continued dashing the quarter mile towards home. At break-neck speed.

Me? Not so much with the break-neck speed. I was huffing and puffing up the hill in my work clothes and big puffy jacket, but when I saw her zoom down the driveway, I crossed my fingers that she would be waiting there when I finally crossed the threshold myself. Turns out she was making for the woods, but got the leash caught in a small tree. Thank goodness, because there is no telling where her sniffy little beagle nose would lead her.

Ironically, as I was trotting down the hill, I did notice a little doggie turd in the middle of the road. See - the saying is true! She had the poop scared out of her!

Next Tuesday? The next day I work? I'm definitely making sure that The Notebook gets packed in my work bag. Well, either that or my running shoes.

Pondering

"People are just about as happy as they make up their minds to be."
~ Abraham Lincoln

A Little Belated Holiday Fun

Thanks to one of Alan's cousins and one of my blog fans (a FAN! hi Janet!), I have found some Christmas spirit. It's a holiday miracle! Just jog on over to this site, and you'll see why.

Ho ho ho(rrible)!

Ta Da! Not So Much A Dummy Mom After All!

Well, after this post and hearing about our Month O' Sickness, you might not be totally shocked to discover that our home was a smidge on the messy/dirty side. As in, I was about to call the producers for the show "Hoarders" and invite them over. We're all about self-promotion on home makeover reality shows, as you well know. Alas, as I started taking the Christmas decorations down (sigh of relief!), I started doing a deep cleaning room by room myself (and without the benefit of a big blue "Got Junk" bin, I might add). Yesterday I spent about four hours cleaning our master bedroom, when what I had planned to do that day was paint. It was all worth it, though, when I was able to get in bed last night and look around our clean, decluttered room and breathe a sigh of relief. I'm a bit type-A that way. Shock, yes?

Today's task (having decided to put off the painting for yet another week) was the kitchen. Our kitchen would so receive a grade of like "F--" on a report card. It's one of the hardest used rooms in our house, and although I clean it fairly regularly, it never feels super clean to me. And it's a room that gets a lot of junk/papers that pile up. Anyway, today, my eyes fell again onto the refrigerator. Remember the oh-so-lovely fridge in our kitchen?? Well, as I was scrubbing out our white, cast-iron sink courtesy of Kitchens by Terri (the same Aunt Terri that gave us this animal book gave us her old sink - which was nicer than our stainless one - when she re-did her kitchen this summer) with Comet, I had a revelation. Comet!! COMET!!!! So, I scrubbed and scrubbed with my sponge and Comet on all of the lovely art on the fridge. And scrubbed. And when I finished with that, I scrubbed some more. And then there was all the scrubbing. Which was followed by more scrubbing. And all of which lead to...VOILA:

...a lovely white refrigerator!! Now it might be slightly less high gloss and a little more eggshell. And there might be slight remnants of blue here and there. But the results (along with my now humongous arm muscles) speak for themselves: hunting will now be allowed again in the fridge.

Blog Plug

My "Hill and Home" friend, Jennifer (hi Jennifer!), has brought into my life (through her blog) a blog that I am super excited about. It's called Little Green Notebook, and I promise it is one you will enjoy (well, perhaps the females out there, anyway). It's all about design and style, and I swear, this chick is an artist. She dabbles in photography, too. Sigh. Her style is umm, kind of retro thrifty chic with a dash of re-do. LOVE HER. Think Anthropologie-style. Now, stop reading this drivel and go check her out!