Pink Sundae w/Gray Twill

Okay. Life has been crazy. I'm tired. Beyond tired. But enough of me whining, eh?

The skirt is a gray stretch twill, and I need to do SOMETHING about the waistband. It is too big. Or Alicia is too curvy, we have not decided which story to tell people yet. My mother suggested sewing some grosgrain ribbon onto the facing... I don't know. I just don't know!!  The pattern is McCall's 5523 and I LOVE IT. How about those pleats?? Can I get some love for those pleats?? I'm a big fan of pleats. Pleats... yes! Ruffles... NO. I've used this pattern quite a bit... I think the stretchiness of the twill threw off this version.

The top I just finished... and yes, 100% cotton yarn does stretch out with wear! Ha. Mrs. Lyons knew this already and was prepared... but then lost a few inches upstairs. :( Yeah, I kept my jacket on all day. Why is knitting so slow?! *sigh* Here's the Ravelry link if you want more info and pictures.

The shoes are from Gwen Stephani's line. They are light pink. They are canvas. They are scotch guarded. That is all.

IT RAINED.

I had just waxed my mini-van.

(HEY, IT HAS A BIG ENGINE AND SEEKRIT COMPARTMENTS FOR SMUGGLING, OKAY! Don't look at me like that.)

I was going to take Alicia for a little run.

Lucy didn't feel well enough to go.

The Slug King and all his slimy little HUNGRY minions came out of hiding.

The cubs attempted a military coo over having been told that they will be kept inside all day.

The cat refused to go out.

The Hot Pink Preteen Prom Dress from Hell (aka The Sooper Seekrit Project for the Princess) is... yup. From Hell.

My latest knitting project is pooling like... like... like...

I'm so exhausted I can't come up with any good analogies.

Bzzzzzz...

So. The Man dashed my dreams of creating a white denim Storytelling Skirt. *sigh* Being realistic is not always fun... but it is... realistic. what?? Anywaaayz, it was nice change to not feel like a crazy person last week because I bit off more than I could chew... or rather shove through my sewing machine without having to warp the space-time continuum.

This is what I wore to the potluck. I felt like a bumble bee... which I voiced to a friend. She disagreed; we had a good chuckle and both decided that YEAH, avoiding yellow and black horizontal striped across the widest part of one's body is indeed A Very Good Thing. I took my black wrap to combat over zealous air conditioning.

 Simplicity 2654, I added little waist tabs w/buttons

I brought a Cobb salad. Everyone liked it.

The End.

Oh wait! Not the end! The Cuban and I happily competed for the pleasure of being the one chosen to babysit Mr. Tiny Destructo while his momma ventured temporarily into a toddler-free zone... and I won! But not on my own merits... nooooo... it was only because of the cubs. He loves my cubs! I plan to bribe him next week with cookies and dinosaur stickers. I don't like Not Being the Favorite you know. After about five minutes of almost-four-year-old-boyness-tom-foolery... man! that kid is fast! The Cuban looked at me and said why did you volunteer to babysit??? what is wrong with you??? Simple answer: I'M STUPID. Her next comment: why did we fight over it??? why did I want to babysit him??? Simple answer: YOU'RE STUPID TOO. True story!!

Seriously though... Mr. Tiny Destructo has stolen, and I mean completely stolen, the cold black heart that beats shallowly within the chest of Mrs. Lyons.

Pineapple Eggs... with Bread?

Princess: MOM!! THIS BREAD HAS MOLD ON IT.
Mrs. Lyons: Pick it off.
Princess: MOM!! Are these pieces the right size?
Mrs. Lyons: The recipe says 1/2 inch pieces.
Princess: OH! I thought that meant 1" by 2".

Boy #1: Mom, can I have some bread?
Mrs. Lyons: sure.
Boy #1" MOM! This bread tastes like dirt!
Princess: HEY THAT'S THE MOLDY BREAD PILE!!!
Mrs. Lyons: Spit it out in the trash son. Live and learn.

Mrs: Lyons: WHAT THE ????, THIS BAG OF PINEAPPLE HAS YELLOW AND WHITE PIECES IN IT!
Boy #2: Yeah. Those white ones aren't ripe.
Mrs. Lyons: Since when do they sell you unripe pineapple pieces along with ripe pineapple pieces?
Boy #2: Since always... it just comes that way.

Boy #1 and Boy #2: [in unison] Uh, Mom? This stuff is pineapple, eggs and bread. Is it going to taste like eggs with pineapple in it with bread on top?
Mrs. Lyons: Who picked this recipe?
Princess: DAD.
Boy #1 and Boy #2: We did.
Mrs. Lyons: [looks at children with arched eyebrows]
Boy #1, Boy #2 and Princess: [in unison] NOT MOM.

Then The Man arrived home and all hell broke loose because he said he didn't choose the recipe. The End.

Pineapple Bread Pudding
adapted from Martha Stewart Everyday Food, April 2010

1 stick butter, melted
3 large eggs
1 lb. bag frozen pineapple chunks (thawed or at least mostly thawed)
4 Tbsp all purpose flour
1/2 cup honey
pinch of salt
1 loaf family sized dinner bread (something soft, like French)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Lightly grease a 2-qt baking dish. Mix eggs, flour, honey and salt. Add pineapple chunks. Pour into prepared baking dish. Tear bread into small pieces, around 1 inch in size. In a big bowl toss bread pieces with melted butter until evenly coated. Press bread pieces into pineapple-egg mixture. Go ahead, put yer back into it!

Bake until golden brown, 40-50 minutes. Let cool slightly before slicing and serving.

thoughts: The four of us thought, for sure, that this would be a disgusting mess. With pineapple in it. Not so! The Man and I were shocked, shocked, at how good it was. Naturally he took all credit for it. The eldest thought that it "smelled weird" and that the bread on top "tastes like bread." Um, okay. The Man proclaimed that it was "better than pineapple upside down cake" whatever that means. All I know is that this is easy and tasty and everyone ate it. QUIETLY. We ate it warm and the pieces held together rather better than I thought they would when I went to extract them out of the pan. Bonus!

less than 50,000

This morning while walking Lucy and Alicia I was struck at how many people were out walking their dogs. Not just any people though... old men. I was stuck limping behind one of these Old Men w/Dog, and was a bit irked at how easily he powered up the hill. Me and Lucy? Not quite the picture of grace... or strength... or speed. Well, at least I wasn't crying. This time.

The thing that killed me though? When he bent over to clean up after his dog. The guy was easily 100,000 years old... and he just bent right over. No moaning, no grabbing at the lower back, no slow motion easy-does-it type stuff. HE JUST BENT OVER. And then... wait for it... he stood back up. Lucy and I are easily... let me do some quick math... right. Easily way less than half this guy's age. *sigh* I was so irritated by his little feat of athleticism, in fact, that I almost called out to him "missed a spot!!" Heh.

So, enough of me whining about my hip. On with it Mrs. Lyons! We want to See Stuff. Okay! Okay! Sheesh. Here ya go:


Seeds being planted.

A blue dress being sewn.

Colds being fought.

Knits being completed.

The Cuban is back... and consequently my zeal to sew up the White Denim Storytelling Skirt is waning. I'll see what she has to say about it and let you know.

HOARDER!

The Cuban is out of town for a week and I miss her. I am also left a bit to my own devices to keep myself entertained... and thus distracted from her absence.

Enter my latest Crack Pot Scheme.

See... I have this little problem. I tend to think there are more waking hours in the day than there actually are, and that the work I have to do during them will magically disappear with no effort on my part. I suspect many people suffer from this same illness.

Reality: I have a sooper seekrit project that has to be finished up in two weeks. And I can only work on it at certain times, when a certain princess is out of the house, which really isn't all that often and if I didn't have a cold I would totally be freaking out about getting it done right now. I also have a current sewing project (for me! yay!) to finish by the same day... and I'm not really motivated to sew it. Why? ALICIA. That's why. But I think I can fix it... I think it will be okay. Crash diets and 3/8" seam allowances can fix anything, right? If I can work a miracle on that dress I'll show you when it's done.

NOW, ON TO THE CRACK POT SCHEMING.

Instead of sewing (and working and cleaning and weeding, blah blah blah) I've sort have been knitting. Hey, I'm sick! I can sit there and knit while the keeping the children entertained. I'm Super Mom. (ha) I'm almost done with this thing:

That pile of pink cotton is almost a summer camisole. Almost.

And this is my new acquisition:

poorly lit still life of white denim, 1/3 of a coffee mug and assorted sewing crap

That, my friends, is white denim. I KNOW. I must have been on crack when I bought it. Guess what I'm going to make out of it? A SKIRT. Yup, still on crack! Want to hear something even better? I had my heart set on some white eyelet because I really enjoy people asking me if I've made my clothing out of my old kitchen curtains. But they didn't have anything I liked as far as eyelet goes... *pout* so denim it was. Now here's the kicker: I seem to think I can get the cami and the white skirt done this week, in time to wear my cutesy little outfit to a potluck full of clumsy people holding plates of food piled high with things full of extra-staining power and little sticky gooey kiddos running around on a sugar high desperately searching for their conspicuously absent mommies... and I can just feel it in the bottom of my soul that my white denim skirt is going to turn into some story telling device for later generations to re-live that evening. The spaghetti stain from when so-and-so tripped, the chocolate sauce from when little Johnny was running away from little Mary because eeeeew! girls have cooties!!, the salad dressing from when That Funny Elder told That Funny Joke.

Unfortunately being clairvoyant isn't going to stop me from forging ahead. What can I say? I live to serve. Don't want to let later generations down.

Black, White and Red

When I grow up I will not be a model. I suck at it.

Wow, I must really hate that grapefruit tree... I have no clue what I am glaring at, and since the grapefruit tree is the only thing over in that direction that is actually big enough to lurk in my  memory for any length of time... that's my best guess. Well, there is that stupid little chain link fence. I sort of hate that. And by "sort of" I really mean "with a passion." The cubs rip a lot of clothes on that thing, even though I made them promise never-ever-ever  to go near it because Mom said it's dangerous.

I made this red corduroy pencil skirt because I have this really neat red necklace and I never wore it because I didn't have any red clothes... and I've had this skirt for almost a year now and wear it often... but... usually  I forget to wear that special necklace with it. Ha.

YEAH I LIKE TO MATCH OKAY, THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT. Rant over.

Oh... one last thing. Will someone please come sweep the deck for me? Thanks.

Rice Rice Baby!

The cubs and I took a little trip to the nursery. Not just any nursery... the fancy-pants one where they don't have roses set out in pots to browse... nooooo. You have to special order them. Out of a really big binder. While they stand there and watch you. And tell you that the rose you tell them you want really isn't the rose you want, even though you just told them that it is, in fact, the rose you want.Yup. We're talking high-end, Ye Olde Money nursery. Thing is, now it's rather run down. The kids? They still had fun. But they are kids. Practically everything is fun to them. And if it isn't fun... well... give 'em five minutes. They'll make it fun.

So here we are, at this run-down fancy-pants nursery wandering around amongst the weeds and half dead $200 plants in black nursery pots. I had this silly thought in my head that I would look for a sorrel plant since, mine, um, died. (Because I didn't water it. Naughty, naughty Mrs. Lyons!!) And that surely the fancy-pants nursery would have a sorrel plant... right? WELL, guess what obstacle we ran into whilst attempting to peruse the herbs and vegetables? That's right. Mrs. Ye Olde Money. Aka: I Own The World, Get Your Brats Out of My Way. *sigh* She was blocking the whole herb isle with her little cart full of half dead over priced plants... all I wanted to do was find a sorrel plant!! [whine] Come on! I'm sick and I'm on my period and my back is killing me and I had to drag the kids with me! Can I get some space here?? Pleeeeassse???

NOPE.

But that's fine. The kids didn't care; we went down a different isle and found some hideously deformed carrot "seedlings." See? God always makes it up to ya somehow. I was too shocked and disgusted to take a crappy cell phone picture, sorry. Next time I'll try harder.

What we DID come home with was organic slug and earwig and pill bug and three-other-bugs-I've-blocked-from-memory because... seriously? I don't like thinking about bugs. Oh, and two Martha Stewart Food magazines.

green rice and black beans...mmmmmm

Green Rice
Adapted from Martha Stewart Everyday Food Magazine, May 2010

1 large bunch cilantro
1/4 white onion, chopped
1 garlic clove
1 3/4 cups water
salt and pepper

1 tsp. olive oil
1 cup basmati rice

Throw everything into a blender and, uh, blend it. BUT. First check to make sure that your dinner assistant (you know? the one who really wanted the rice?) knows how to put the blender top on properly. Add the oil and rice to the sauce pan over med-high heat and stir the rice until coated with oil. Add the cilantro juice you made in the blender (minus what's on the floor and cabinets) to the rice, bring to a boil, cover, then finally simmer for 15 minutes. Turn off heat and let sit for 5-10 minutes. Stir it all together or "fluff with a fork" before serving.

thoughts: Well. My kids love rice. Me? Not so much. As for this particular recipe... the kids loved it and ate every last rice... kernel? Maggot look-alike? What the heck do you call rice anyway? Oh. GRAINS. So yeah, the kids loved it, it was tasty, but opening a jar of salsa verde and just dumping it in with the water is WAY easier... So is my usual routine of cook the rice, fluff, then add chopped cilantro and garlic powder.

And I really should ban the kids from using the blender, seeing as how they are violently allergic to *remembering* to cleaning up after themselves.

Perspective.

So yesterday The Princess and I were having a little chat about her wardrobe. She was lamenting about how she wanted to wear her humming bird dress... because she likes it sooo much. I said, "why not wear it this Saturday? Does it need to be ironed? If it does, you need to give it to me early so I have time to do it."

Her reply: "Well. Maybe the bows just need to be touched up."

People, the dress is cotton. When I finally got my hands on it, it was an unholy crinkled mess on a child-sized plastic hanger. Lucky for me that I Am Mom and I can fix anything. Okay, so I can fix wrinkly dresses because I own an iron. That's still something! Be nice.

Now we will fast forward 20 minutes to a conversation I had with the middle child. I was grumbling that the seeds wouldn't sprout... and I was vexed because some mysterious thing kept eating the vegetable plants. (We've narrowed it down to... aliens. More on that later.) He told me "be patient Mom. Remember how long it took the carrot seeds to sprout?" Yeah. Those took awhile. And now they are ready to harvest.

Now, back to those aliens. First, some background. WE HAVE A GOPHER PROBLEM. This creates issues every. single. time I attempt to grow anything. The Man and The Cubs were kind enough to help create a gopher-proof raised bed vegetable garden, complete with a fence to keep out the pooch (now sadly deceased). We will gloss over the part about how it took ten years to do a month long (at best) project. So now we have a garden, and I happily planted it.

Then, SOMETHING, not gophers, started eating the seedlings. Every night. All of them. Basil, tomatoes, arugula, radishes... peppers. Eggplant. Cucumbers. Lettuce. All of them munched to death. Needless to say I was crushed. Oh, the expectations I had for that garden! Naturally I complained about this to anyone standing still. (The Twins Maker suggested the alien hypothesis, ha.) I made the cubs look up stuff with me in all the garden references we own and I checked stuff out online. We came up with: zero.

So I cried. And I prayed. And I complained some more to The Man and The Sage. The Man merely replied like he always does: "be grateful for what you've got." Yeah, I hate it when he says that too. How about a little sympathy? Some coddling? You know a little poor Mrs. Lyons, something ate her widdle pwants. Onto The Sage... know what she suggested? Go out at night with a flashlight. Which I did... and I was scared. I can't see in the dark and I have an over active imagination. SO NOT A GOOD COMBO. But my courage was rewarded... I found a few slugs. And a little white garden spider. And earwigs...  yes. Earwigs. GAZILLIONS OF EARWIGS. We had unearthed a few nests during brush clearance... nests the size of a Borg civilization. Scary. (And by "we" I mead the middle kid. Heh.)

And you know what? THEY ARE ALL GOING TO DIE.

And the seeds!! They are sprouting!! Me, being the smarty pants that I am, sequestered this batch on the deck. Away from the aliens. (We'll see how long the universe lets me get away with being smug.)

In The Beginning...

There was a woman. With a family.

And way too many hobbies. Congratulations... you can now read all about it.