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Auntie Blog: For the love of blue goo

Flarp, flubber, slime, goo, gak, or oobleck.  Whatever you call it, it’s fun stuff (if you’re a kid).

Ashlynn spent her Sunday elbow deep in this stuff.
This is supposed to be a butt.  I know, I know.
Like the taste of oobleck? Blech!
Gotta keep her head back or it will run into her mouth.
Good thing her nose is clean!
And now you know why it’s a good thing her nose is clean.
And if you would like to blow blue gak bubbles with your nose, here’s how…

Mix thoroughly
1 1/2 cups very warm water
2 cups Elmer’s glue
food coloring (optional, as could stain clothing and skin)
In a separate bowl, mix thoroughly:

1 1/3 cups very warm water
2 level teaspoons Borax

Mix the contents of the two bowls together kneading until it is fully combined. Discard any remaining liquid.

My Crazy Mom Part I

All my life my mom has warned me of the highly possible chance that I may end up in a mental institution.  A matter of fact, I think she has told me twice this week.  She thinks I’m nuts.   I blow her off.  My mom on the other hand, thinks she’s sane.  I asked her if she realized that when I do end up in a mental institution, they will blame her.  I mean can’t we always blame our moms for screwing us up??  It seems to be catching on in society these days.  This sign is currently taped to my mother’s front door.

I’ve always wondered if crazy people know they’re crazy.   She said come back next week and it will say “Do not disturb, I’m disturbed enough already!”  I guess that answers my question.

Sometimes I just can’t say it right

On my birthday, Jason got me this card.

It was perfect.  

I wrote on the back My favorite card! 2009
It’s a little story of us.

It reminds me of Anacortes, WA. 
It reminds me of a happy life.  One to look back on and have zero regrets.  Remembering good times, and relishing the reward of a well-lived life.

Do you know how much I love pie?  Maybe I love this card because of this blueberry pie line.  What if it had said lemon cake?  Would I still be as fond?  Doubtful.

Maybe I’m drawn to the quintessential picket fence in the picture.  I’ve always wanted a picket fence around my house.  But I’d settle for a split rail fence, whatever.  I even want to hop on the bike with its banana seat and ride down that cobblestone path.
It’s obviously Autumn in this card.  The best season of all.  The trees dress in glorious color. The smell of the ocean drifting on a light wind.
No hurry.  No rush. 
I hate the pace of life.  I know hate is a strong word, but it just sums it up for me.  I run in 5th gear 90% of the time.  I’d prefer second or even third.
Relaxing in the comfort of a lifetime of companionship. 
And I’m sure the couple in the car (without gray hair even though it’s years and years from now) love talking to one another, never fight over the radio, never get lost, or aren’t prone to fits of road rage.  Sure.

This card makes me smile.
Monday was Jason’s birthday.  I stood in the aisle studying the greeting cards.  Which direction should I go this year?
Mushy? 

Funny? 

Sincere? 

Romantic? 

Sexy? 

Then my eye caught the one.  The perfect card.  It tells of my hopes.  And dreams, my desire for a slower pace.  And my love of pie.  Yep, I got him the same card. 
It just says it all for me.

I remember when…..

Today is October 17.  It’s Saturday.  I’ve had my walk, I’ve said my prayers, I’ve started my chores.  I sat at the desk and turned the calendar that belonged to Grannie Silcott for today and found that I had written she died five years ago today. 

And then emotion overcame me. 
This is one of my prized possessions.  A picture of her as a young girl.  One time I lost my temper and threw my checkbook.  I didn’t mean to hit this picture, but I broke the glass, so it has been replaced, but the picture and frame are older than mud, as my niece Hannah might say.
This is written on the back of the picture.  It says “To Angel my precious granddaughter, given this Christmas Dec. 25, 1999.  I was 17, I saved money to buy this dress, which cost 20 dollars, that was a lot of money then.  Now I am 93 my birthday will be May 29, 2000.” 
She was born in 1906, so it would have been 1923 when this picture was taken.  She lived through some tough stuff. 
Wow, that’s about all I can say.
“She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come.  She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.  She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness.  Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her:  Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all.  Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.  Give her the reward she has earned, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.”  Proverbs 31:25-31

Aw Shucks!

I didn’t win the book competition. 
Aw shucks, I tell myself. 
I tell myself that today. 
But Saturday, 3 days ago, I was almost prostrate with grief. 
I was never going to write again. 
I was a terrible writer who would never make it. 
I called my family.
It is very hard to admit to people that you failed. 
Disappointments are hard to take.
Disappointing others is harder. 
But I’ve just got to get up, dust myself off, and carry on.
And eat. I keep my head in the trough.
My husband consoled me with flowers.
Aren’t they beautiful?

And pound cake.

My favorite.

He’s simply mahvalous!

hominy, hominy, hominy

Today I took a big step.  I overcame my fear of hominy.  Yep, hominy.  I had a unfortunate experience during my young adult years that involved an open can of hominy, a fork, a filthy house and a hypodermic needle.  I’ll spare the details, but I’ve refused to eat it until tonight.  

Actually I was pleasantly surprised. Jason likes the texture. He’s a texture man when it comes to his food. He likes that mushy middle of a hominy kernel.
I tried out a new recipe for a hominy casserole that I found from thepioneerwoman.com, a site that I check out regularly these days.  I’m envious of this transplanted city girl who gets to stay home, live on a ranch, and homeschool her children.  Uh…I could do without the homeschooling and, well,  the children too. But the staying home and living on a ranch part would suit me just fine. 
 
If you say hominy 3 times fast, you sort of sound like an auctioneer.  Go ahead.  I know you want to.

Woody Guthrie Jam Session

A small crowd gathered inside the old Harris Drugs this past weekend to play a little music in tribute to Woody Guthrie, a folk singer who spent a few years here in our little town and worked at Harris Drug. 
Legend says that it was while working here, he found a guitar in the back room and began writing and playing music. 
About fifteen chairs formed a circle in this old building and musicians ranging in ages from 12 to 72 played music.  Pardon me while I describe the instruments, as I am far from knowledgeable.  Some had guitars, electrical and acoustical, there was a steel guitar type instrument laying over a man’s lap, a mandolin, and a few harmonica players.   A girl had a bag of tricks for percussion including a shaking thing that rattled and a stick that ran up and down a ridged board.  Looked like something off of Hee Haw, an oldy but goody.  Sometimes, she just clapped along with the music, picking up the rhythm and adding her unique clap.  They passed a microphone around to anyone who wanted to say a few words about Woody’s music or sing.  Some were good, and some were….eh, well you know.  Simon Cowell would not have been pleased.  It was a neat experience to watch these musicians who would ask what key or “gear”  to play in and they could all just pick up the songs, even if they’d never heard them before.  They would  watch the lead guy who started the set until they could just find the music and play.  Woody wrote about the dust bowl days with songs like “Dust Bowl Blues”.  Some of his other titles are “Do-Re-Mi”, “Pretty Boy Floyd”, and “This Land is Your Land”.Here’s a picture of our main street circa 1930’s.  A far cry from what it looks like today. 
Times were tough then, and we think we have it bad.  Watch this video and have a listen:
http://www.youtube.com/v/zqiblXFlZuk&hl=en&fs=1&
So long, it’s been good to know you.

Madhatter

Sometimes I imagine.  I imagine what it would be like to have lived during another era. A different time.  I drink my coffee from a china cup and saucer.  I enjoy the nostaligia of it.  Forget Starbucks and fast food.  Slow it down folks.
Which reminds me of hats.  I like hats.  Can you remember when women wore hats?  It hasn’t changed for men.  Men wear ball caps, cowboy hats, bowler hats, stocking hats, any hat they want.  The only women I see wear hats are in church on Easter or ball caps with pony tails pulled through, a real classy look.  I’m on a mission to find a hat with a unique style.  No, I don’t want some frilly bonnet or ginormous sunhat.  But I think I’m fond of berets.  Perhaps the crispness of October beckons berets.  This site has a smorgasbord of hats to  choose from.
Ashlynn, my precocious niece went garage sale-ing this past weekend and returned very proud of this one of a kind find!
She also found some booties.  Forgive my blurry pictures.  I’m sure my camera was on a bad setting and it had nothing at all to do with the photographer.
And so, I begin my hat hunting endeavor.  Maybe I’ll just borrow my niece’s hand knitted hat.  My husband is thrilled!  (not really)

The Sky is Falling!

Tomorrow is October and Autumn is descending. You can tell the season is upon us here at our house by the great abundance of acorns that clutter our yard and driveway. Our yard is quite small, but we have 78 oak trees. Maybe I exaggerate, okay then, 77 oak trees.

Beautiful trees.
These mighty oaks produce mighty acorns. And I exaggerate not. Just look at this branch.

Look closer. They actually grow like grapes in clusters. And then, they fall. And if I don’t get them all picked up, they nestle down in the dark earth throughout the winter, and sprout as dumb little saplings in the spring, only to grow up and produce more acorns. It’s a vicious cycle folks. And if I don’t pull them when they are tiny, their roots grow deep and it is nearly impossible to pull out a little oak. Now, all you tree huggers don’t get mad, I am a tree lover too. I’m all for trees. Look at the beautiful foliage.

Now look at the beautiful mess.


Pulling into our drive-way sounds like stampeding elephants on bubblewrap.
I have had so many acorns in the past 4 years living here, that I actually have sold them on Ebay. Yes, you heard me right! There are people who will buy acorns at the affordable price of 99 cents per pound. When you pick up acorns, you have a lot of time to think. It’s a time consuming chore. It’s tedious, boring, back breaking, and monotonous. Not exactly my idea of fun. As I was picking them up one afternoon, I thought to myself there has got to be a way to make a little money here. I mean I have an abundance, surely there is a market for these boogers. So I checked it out. It’s not much of a market, but a small market just the same. With competition I might add. Others try to sell their acorns on ebay too.

This was the pic I took to post on ebay. See how huge they get compared to a quarter? One year, I sold 50 pounds. One lady fed them to a pet flying squirrel. A teacher did a unit of study on Native Americans up in Ohio and the class ground the acorns down to make bread……or something. I’m not sure what drove others to buy them, but I shipped some to New York and all sorts of places. Well sweeping, raking, and bending is a lot of work. So I researched and found a little acorn picker-upper.

Some ingenious person invented this. It is called the Nut Wizard and you can buy it online. It does make my acorn harvesting alot easier. You just roll it around, and it does the work for you.


When it fills up, you empty it.

The nut wizard has always reminded me of this little toy.

Maybe it’s the shape? Maybe it’s the vaccumming motion? Maybe its the little popping sound? Maybe I’m weird? I knew that already.

Auntie Blog Time

I ran across the term “mommy blog” yesterday. I’m assuming it’s for all those peeps who only blog about their kids. So, I’ve coined my own term “auntie blog”. Real original huh? No kids for me, and no I don’t want any, thanks for asking. I have a very selfish streak and am quite the loner. Kids don’t exactly fit into that equation. I get my kid fill everyday at school, and then I have these nieces and nephews that I can latch onto anytime I want sticky fingerprints in the house.
Today is my #1 nephew’s birthday. He turned five today and we had a big five year old bash at McDonald’s.

Happy Birthday Harley!! He ran around so much playing, I could barely get a picture.

I did manage a family portrait of all three of my brother’s ankle biters.

Here you have Harley, the birthday boy, Maxx, the crybaby, and Ashlynn, the big sister……

and a rockstar at blowing straw wrappers at your head.

Here’s the happy father!

Maxx decided to do an impersonation of the Hunchback of Notre Dame. What does he look like to you? Comment me!


But we did finally manage to get a sweet smile from him.

And then for the big finale!! The birthday wish and candle blowing. Yes, I do believe that boy is picking his nose…..