Santa's Key for LESSology's Challenge

I am not sure if this tradition is anywhere but here in the States. In fact, it was nothing I had ever heard of until my kids were young and I received one as a gift.

As I was unpacking ornaments the other day, I came across our Santa Key. It was so much fun when they were little to ceremoniously hang it off the frog door knocker we had at our old house and throw reindeer food off the porch on Christmas Eve while the chocolate chip cookies for Santa were baking.

WAIT! You mean you guys haven't heard of reindeer food either?

OH no. I'd better find you a recipe. Big day is coming and Santa's reindeer might be very hungry.

Magic Reindeer Food

Reindeer food (also sometimes called Magic Reindeer Food or Magic Reindeer Dust) is for Santa's reindeer. After all, they get hungry on Christmas Eve, too!

Ingredients:

• 1 cup rolled oats
• 2-6 Tbsp red colored sugar
• 2-6 Tbsp. green colored sugar

Preparation:

Mix the ingredients together and place in a plastic bag, adding as much colored sugar as you like for a festive effect.

Tie with a ribbon and attach the following poem:

Sprinkle this reindeer food outside tonight.
The moonlight will make it sparkle bright.
As the reindeer fly and roam.
This will guide them to your home.

I hadn't the heart to pass it along to another family like last year's coat. It was special, very special at the time. I decided I needed to add it to my decorations and make a little frame/box for it plus, LESSology is having a challenge for an altered frame! 


I started with this curved basket handle they sell at our local craft store and a piece of card board they were going to throw out that they used under the scrapbook paper they were selling. Bob did try to ring it up, but then laughed at me when I told him that I REALLY needed it.

Cut one bigger than the handle and one smaller. Glued the one that was smaller on the back of the handle with hot glue and then went to town with the gesso, some glimmermist, and sparkles and bling later! 

The larger sized one got a stained glass window on both sides after modge podging on some scrapbook paper. I love the green wood grain one I found for the front. 

Of course this makes it all sound so easy. There was a lot of drying time and thinking time between all these steps, giggle!

I found putting a hinge on it hard. The last one of these I made the front door was smaller so acted like a real door. This one I wanted to be bigger than the wood frame so I had to use medical tape and lots of hot glue to get it to work.

And, here it is up on my china cabinet.

Next year I may add it to a frame or something but it was time to call this project done!

OH! I forgot to explain what a Santa's Key is! It's so kids without chimneys can rest easy that Santa can still bring them presents! He uses this magic key you leave out for him to enter your house! We had a wood stove at the old house so it would have been quite the squeeze down stove pipes.

Black Flies and Milk Snakes by Bruce Mero

And a follow up to Last Sunday's story:

Black Flies and Milk Snakes

by Bruce H. Mero

            It was only the first week in May and already the black flies were making it difficult to stay out of doors for any length of time. The abundant snowfall of the past winter had slowly melted with the gradual onset of warmer days and streams and creeks were burgeoning with the fresh, icy cold water that black fly nymphs thrive on. And thrive they had. In places around the farm this spring, the air was thick with the damnable pests. 

            Black fly thirst for blood is insatiable and their frenzied search for a meal of blood is an annual spring scourge in these parts. The female fly requires a diet of blood to enable her to lay her eggs and ensure the hatching of the next generation of flies.  Thousands of the bugs can descend upon a blood source at the same time in a feeding frenzy. Birds and animals serve as the blood host. Horses and cows are frequent food sources and often can be seen, this time of year, running and madly crashing into trees and shrubs, attempting to shed clouds of the flies. Humans provide a ready target, as well.  Human blood sources can be observed rushing about with arms flailing and hands beating face and neck. The stoic of us who must endure the tiny beasts for any time are usually identified by panic stricken eyes and streaks of congealed blood emanating from the backs of ears and necks. Black fly bites are painless when first administered. Often the only early sign that one has ensured the breeding success of the next generation of flies is the crusted blood in the back of one’s ears, followed shortly thereafter by the most maddening itching sensation ever experienced. And the itching can persist for weeks, the itch toxins revived each time the hapless bitten scratches the spot of the black fly’s meal. 

            A myriad of salves, lotions, repellants, oils, perfumes, greases, slathers and ointments are sold which attest to their ability to repel the black fly. We had tried most of these potions over the years and found that they either didn’t work or smelled so bad that taking one’s chances with the biting flies was more desirable. Our most effective deterrence, if we wanted to be outside this time of year, was to cover as much exposed skin as possible with impenetrable clothing, and to wear a wide-brimmed hat. 

            Thus appropriately attired, Mitra spent hours playing outside. In her time away from school and the second grade, she was a free spirit and roamed the farm and neighborhood as she pleased. The black flies were a minor deterrence to her activities and only the cowgirl hat her parents insisted she wear to keep the flies at bay inconvenienced her. She wore an ancient pair of black cowboy boots her Grandma Skip had given her to complete her outfit. Last seen, she was bounding across the grass on her broom horse, whooping and swinging her free arm as she herded imaginary cattle into the front field. 

            Then the screen door slammed and she came into the kitchen very excited.

            “A horse is coming,” she said. “A real horse is coming up the road, can I ride it, Daddy? Please, can I ride it, Daddy?”

            I looked out and, indeed, there was a horse and rider coming up the road.  Actually it was a Shetland Pony, a very small one at that, slowly walking toward our place, ridden by a very large, young woman. The pony had long shaggy brown and yellow hair and was walking with its head down. The lady was wearing a red, short-sleeved shirt and black shorts, and no hat. She held the pony’s reigns in one hand and was flailing the other arm around, occasionally slapping her ample bare skin. She was continually kicking the pony with her heels to keep it moving along, but it was obvious that the animal wasn’t in any particular hurry. The pony was moving along as fast as it could with the load it was carrying. It was also obvious that the black flies had overtaken the rider and they were feeding. 

            Mitra ran out of the house and into the road, where she stood in front of the pony as it approached. The pony stopped walking. Boldly, she asked the lady rider if she could have a ride. The woman dropped the reigns and began slapping herself with both hands, all over, in response to the buzzing flies. She didn’t answer, she just kept slapping as the fly cloud darkened around her. I approached the lady and intended to apologize for the boldness of Mitra’s inquiry. I could see that the woman was in distress and rather than apologize, I offered the lady a few minutes shelter in the doorway of our barn, out of the flies. She conceded that this would be a good idea and she slipped from the pony’s back and ran to the open barn, arms flailing, leaving the horse standing in the road. Before I could react, Mitra was upon the pony and in the saddle.  

            “Can I have a ride, please, Daddy?” she plead.

            “Go ahead,” said the woman from deep within the barn.  “She can ride as long as I can stay in here away from the bugs.”

            So, for the next half-hour or so, a grinning little rider trotted the pony around the yard and the field next to the barn. She rode as though she had done so a hundred times before, though I wasn’t aware of any previous horse rides she’d ever had before. At first, I attempted to walk the pony holding the reins, but soon this was too slow for the little rider and she took control of the pony herself.

            Gretchen emerged from the house with a glass of ice water, which she offered to the lady standing in the barn. She could see at a glance that the bugs had been feeding on our visitor, as red welts swelled on her arms and legs. 

            "You don't have any snakes, do you," asked the woman?  "I hate snakes."

            "To be honest," replied Gretchen, "I haven't seen any snakes so far this year. It is pretty early in the summer for them to be active, although it shouldn't be long before we'll be seeing one or two."

            "That's good," she said, "I hate snakes. Those bugs are bad."

            The two chatted a while. When she tired of the pony, Mitra ended her ride in front of the barn. The lady stepped into the daylight and took the reins of the pony.  Immediately the black flies charged, as though they were waiting in ambush for the bare arms and legs to reappear. Arms flailed once more and the lady attempted to mount the pony, but was unable to get her foot into the stirrup. Undeterred, she asked if we had something she could stand upon to get a little boost onto the pony and Gretchen suggested a cement block at the trash burner we had in the side yard. As we led her to the blocks, she asked twice more about snakes and told how she hated them. Mitra heard this and told the lady, to her astonishment, about her pet Milk Snake last summer and how the snake had bitten her in the nose when she tried to give it a kiss. The lady cringed, but was reassured somewhat when Mitra said that she thought her friend Hank had killed it by scaring the snake to death. She hadn't seen it since she showed it to Hank under his hay wagon, last summer.

            We reached the cinder block pile and arranged a couple of cinderblocks into a step. The woman got up onto a block. We thanked her for sharing her pony with our little girl and asked that she come back again sometime. The lady said that she'd come back and thanked Gretchen for the glass of water. She slapped her neck, then lifted her foot toward the stirrup.

At that exact moment, Mitra exclaimed, "There's my snake!  Oooh!  You've gotten a whole lot bigger since last year." She bent down and picked up the Milk Snake and started walking toward the lady and the pony.

            What occurred next is a little fuzzy, because it happened so fast, but I remember that the lady shrieked and leaped into the air. Her foot never touched the stirrup. She actually left the cinderblock step and seemed to fly. Both arms flapped.  Somehow the airborne lady managed to descend into the saddle. The little pony groaned and nearly fell to its knees as the lady crashed onto its back. In an instant she was urging the little horse to a gallop. Looking back toward Mitra and the Milk Snake, she rode quickly down the road.

  

Leadership & Coming in Hot

Made a flying trip to Pa on Thursday. In fact, on my to-do list was to make sure I had a few autoposts in the hopper! I do love blogging. And I always have stuff I want to share.

Trip down had dreary rain and it gets dark here at 4 in the winter, so a big chunk of the drive was in the dark.

I got to hook up with Kristy who I hadn't seen in it seems like forever. Always a good time.

She reminded me a story I knew about her daughter who was dropped off the first day of school at their house on a busy road despite the after school care Kristy had lined up. Every parent's nightmare is not knowing where your kid is.

She was thankfully safe and sound (and cold) holed up on their back deck hiding for two hours until her Mom pulled in the yard on two wheels sobbing. The interesting part to the story is what the principal asked Kristy. She asked why Anika had not alerted anyone that she was not supposed to be dropped off at the house.

Kristy said she had been teaching Anika not to question authority.

Obviously, the event was a learning lesson for both of them as authority figures can and may fail you.

So, on that same subject of leadership, I made a five hour drive down to attend a Christmas party on Friday. And of course, a five hour trip back in darkness and snow.

I wanted to hook up with the guys I chat with on a daily basis in our never ending quest to provide excellent service to our customer. Wasn't mandatory that any of us attend, but our boss is pretty amazing and humble for a guy who started with just himself and a few other guys working part time and now have a room full of people almost overnight. I should say, a room full of guys. I am one of five women that work there. It's not because Joe has a problem with women. First off his wife would pound him and secondly, he'd be ignoring huge talent. However, in civil engineering, it's more a male dominated field from what I can tell.

Which is not to say I am an engineer, despite what I've been called at parties. Degree is in Geology, so a Rock Jock, whatever. Not like I do it on a daily basis. College is just a means to an end.  Which brings me around to what you learn in 5th grade.

It appears to me, educated in rocks (so take this for what it's worth), that 5th grade is a pivotal year. My oldest started 5th Grade and despite her high honor role status has managed to get in trouble a number of times from losing recess to now having her second detention. I got that news on the way home so got to stew over it for five hours.

Her three offenses this time were not putting her number on her paper twice (she is #16), getting caught reading a book while her teacher was teaching, and not turning in a home work assignment. As I write this, I know you might be wondering why I would put my 11 year old in a military academy. I assure you, this is public school. What is really comes down to for Lexi (and I know this because the teacher used this word during our parent teacher conference) is that she is independent. Yes, I know that is a good word. In this context, she is so independent that the leader of the class finds her difficult.

I would maintain however, that a good leader can pretty much get anyone to follow them, but I digress.

I am pretty sure it's her Mama's fault.

I didn't raise her to be pushed around. If she wants to be in a male dominated field, then so be it. She has to be able to handle it. Or any field these days for that matter.

I also don't want her leadership at school to put her in a bad spot like Anika and not speak up.

BUT, she also has to do what she is told regardless of the value judgement she places on it. She forgets the number because she feels the teacher is being lazy. She didn't turn the home work assignment because she thought it was silly to make 5th graders write a letter from Santa to Mrs. Claus (they live in the same house, hello!). And she got caught reading a book because when they go over things three or four times she gets bored.

Don't get me started on the detention. She will get to sit nice and cozy in a room for an hour and get to read a book. Not to mention they will be punishing her with something she got in trouble for?? I want detention! I have told the school they should leave punishments up to me. I have way better ones. My basement is always needing a vacuum not to mention dog chores in the yard.

There really never is a clear cut answer when you're trying to grow kids up into the best possible people they can be and I'm still mulling my way through on how I want to handle.

My Mother didn't raise someone to be pushed around either.

So, today, in honor of her, I am publishing some photos of her lovely stained glass. I love this piece! The little hummer is beveled!! OH MY.

She made this panel for friends of the family and I am super excited for them, the lucky ducks.

This is all her own design, inspired by a Tiffany panel she spotted in Chicago. If you look really close at the first photo, you can see their front birch trees and the snow. I like the flowers and hummer better!

Anyhow, hats off to all you parents out there struggling with similar issues. I am going to go apply some art therapy, myself. To be followed up with a cup of hot coco and home made marshmallows!

Friendships Odd and Otherwise

I am pretty sure at some point Lisa and I are going to get kicked out of exercise class. We don't mean to be rowdy. It just comes naturally I think. Like the other day when I fell off my exercise ball and everyone laughed for ten minutes....it really wasn't my fault. For one thing, we have class above a bar. This plays into why I fell off....just give me a bit here. Well, OK, it's the VFW in Potsdam, which is...well....a bar. Veterans of Foreign War hang out spot I guess you could call it. 

Anyhow, the VFW has one door to get in. Obviously you have to be member or using their upstairs party room for exercise class. So, some days you wander past the long bar and there is only one old guy nursing a drink who winks at you on your way by. Other days there are nine or ten old guys that invite every single girl who walk by for class to have a drink. One day, I was offered pizza. I had a hard time with that one. Pizza or sweating....I know you all know what I wanted to pick. 

I like to think we might help increase their attendance. It used to freak me out but now I laugh and ask them to come up for class. 

It could be worse. 

Mirrors for instance while exercising are bad. So are glass windows so the rest of the gym can see your "moves" or lack thereof. I know the old dudes on the stools aren't judging. They are happy to see legs sticking out of Yoga pants in December. That is pretty rare in Upstate NY. 

So, I fell off my ball in the midst of four or five other girls who have done equally retarded things themselves. 

Luckily I fell onto my mat. Normal people use theirs for padding. Not me. I use mine to avoid the floor at the VFW. Their parties look to be very good as sometimes the floors are sticky and gross. Mopping is always an option, but I manage to avoid any heavy lifting in that department by coming in late. 

Our fearless instructor can sometimes be found mopping but it's a long process to get a whole party's worth of sticky off that floor that is older than I am. But, hey, she gets super cheap rent so our class prices are super low. It all works. 

Slightly before I fell off my ball, Lisa swore. Well, everyone else claimed she swore. Me, I just heard talking. 

We are both from the construction type industry where swearing is a way of communication. 

She said a word that starts with an f, added the word THAT in the middle and a word that sounds like ship at the end. It was a meaningful phrase. 

Let me translate:  My back is hurting, this ball is really making me mad, and I don't want to fall off. 

See?

Plus, she was in the middle of telling a story talking over the instructor's directions, so I suppose that is why everyone heard her. 

So, back to me falling off my ball. I was just trying to be a good friend and helping everyone forget about Lisa's little slip-up. Yeah, that is what I'm going with!!! AND, extra bonus, the giggling got going and everyone was exercising their ab muscles. See? 

Anyhow, along that same line, Shirley once said Only Lisa and I could get in trouble in Potsdam. So, the fire department almost came because the store alarm was going off at Big Lots. No biggie. THAT is a story for another day.

Anyhow, Shirley is quite safe. I have never gotten in trouble with her yet. There is still time and border crossings into Canada.

Anyhow, Shirley made the most lovely of boxes for me for Christmas the other day. Isn't it sweet! My  favorite part is the striped paper on the side and that blue and purple flower on the front! I have it holding scrap paper right now on my work table. It's making me happy as it's close by but also hiding scraps and things I want to recycle onto a page. Plus, it is pretty storage!

Happy Friday to you and don't fall off any exercise balls.

Homemade Marshmallows & Teacher Gifts

OK, so it's probably a bit too late for anyone to round up all the stuff to do this project, but maybe if you have a few extra minutes during holiday baking, I HIGHLY suggest making home made marshmallows. 

Our teacher gifts were pretty simple. Some pretty purchased mugs, ribbon, candy canes, coco packets, and these long thin bags I found in the cake section at our local store made by Wilton. They are supposed to be for candy pretzels, but made nice baggies to put our marshmallows in. We also tucked in a few Christmas napkins. I used shrink wrap to keep it all together. The kids had a BLAST with the hair dryer making it shrink. They weren't around for the marshmallow making. They could have helped, but it is EXTREMELY hot liquid poured over gelatin using a blender, so the helping part is better at the end. The eating them part. 

Let me discuss the marshmallows. 

They are AMAZING. 

No seriously. 

Like nothing else. Like eating vanilla air. OH MY. 

I was accused of being an over achiever by my friend Lisa. BUT, several cups of hot coco later, I believe she has taken that back since she has been very nice to me lately. Could it be she would like more? 

I made a recipe I found on The Joy of Baking website. The basic ingredients are below if you are curious. 

Homemade Marshmallows:

1 cup (240 ml) cold water, divided

3 - 1/4 ounce envelopes (21 grams) unflavored gelatin

2 cups (400 grams) granulated white sugar

1 cup (240 ml) light corn (or golden) syrup

1/4 teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

And to quote my sister in law, what would happen if I added my own marshmallows to Rice Crispy Treats or used Sugar Free Cherry jello and dipped the marshmallows in chocolate? YES, the possibilities are endless. YUM.

Expect the Unexpected Page for Once Upon A....Sketch

Nothing like throwing a scrap page in the mix with preparing for Christmas! But, there are some challenges I just love to do and this one made me think. In fact, I didn't even plan on doing the challenge until I came up with  my answer. 

Here are the requirements at Once Upon a Sketch:

 December 1st Challenge

Journalling Criteria/theme: The thing I look most forward to in December.

Write at least 2 sentences on what you look forward to in the next month. December is a festive month so your journalling could be about the Christmas season, the holidays, the presents or if you do not celebrate Christmas what does December bring for you that you look most forward to? Note:You layout DOES NOT have to be about Christmas! It can be about anything December brings.

Other ideas for journalling: an annual holiday or celebration, a specific event such as putting up the Christmas tree or pre Christmas traditions you might have leading up to Christmas, family time, snow covered fields or warmer weather, time off work, school holidays, change of weather, new season fruit.

And here is the lovely sketch provided:

What the holiday turns into here in the States gets under my skin. Crowded stores, over-spending, and panic are a few words that come to mind. It loses meaning quickly and I struggle to maintain what I feel is important during this month. The essence of the holiday if you will. 

But there are a few things in December that rock my world.

The other day I was watching the morning news and a service woman home finally from serving her country hid herself in a box and jumped out at her kids and hubby as a surprise for Christmas. The old tears got flowing and I had to beat a hasty retreat.

It really is the unexpected that warms my heart and is what I look forward to. 

So, I came up with my answer to this challenge the other day when Lexi and I put up our tree. She decided to help after her brother left on an overnight. Luke had promised to be on Team Christmas Tree which basically consisted of me and him. She looked at me and asked why we didn't just put on our very favorite ornaments and call it good. It was a worthy idea. That way we got just a little of tree decorating and everyone was happy. 

Well, I was super happy with the simplicity of it all. And we enjoyed talking about what our favorites were. Also, with less ornaments I really love our tree better. 

At the end I was picking up and noticed a slim little black box that held an ornament I knew I need to hang. 

It was the ornament used to commemorate The City Christmas Tree in Rome NY. My Mom got the ornament for THE MAN and I as we got engaged under that tree several days before Christmas years and years ago. 

HOW COULD I FORGET.

I mean, I know I am married quite obviously. But it's not like we celebrate our engagement anniversary. 

It seems like forever ago standing in the cold with a ring that was waaaaaayyyyy too big since my hands were so cold. I was shaking and of course I said yes. But, really. I had no idea what a large decision that was. I also remember how upset his parents were since they had no idea he was going to propose. THE MAN did always seem to do whatever the heck he wanted to do. EVEN then. 

Here is a peek at my journaling and also a close up for a recent photo of us. WHICH randomly we are wearing some colors that match my paper. Go figure. It is almost like we planned it. ;-)

And, let me explain how I made the title. I cut out the letters on my Silhouette and glued them on with spray adhesive. I have been using stickers lately for titles and these letters made me mad due to their flatness. Got out some puffy paint and glitter. They were a little better, so then got out a marker and grunged them up a bit. And found a little itty bitty "the" for the center. I like them now. 

It was peaceful working on this page and writing this post. I heard the sound of the things falling into place in my brain and I'm ready for a more meaningful unexpected holiday. 

Shirley's Altered Cheese Box

I just got an e-mail a bit ago from Shirley and opened it. Good thing I wasn't on the phone with anyone and the only witness to my freak show was the dog sleeping under the desk.

HOLY BEANERS!

Look at this box! Shirley's Mr. picked it up for her at auction and it used to be a cheese box. I KNOW!!!

So exciting. I have one too (thanks Bob!). Mine is all plain waiting for me to come up with something clever.

I may have skyped her something to similar to:  you had better lock your doors, 'cause I am coming for that box!

I am sorry you don't live next to Shirley. And to think the real estate agent never even listed her as as selling point to this house. I had to figure that out for myself.

giggle...

It is a funny story.

I had just started my new job working at home. I think it actually was my first day.

Kids were at home since school hadn't started and it was HOT HOT HOT. AND, I was on a skype call with like 18 other people. And I hear the sound of putt-putt-putt. There is a gator at my door. John Deere Gator is like a golf cart only much better. It was Bob and Shirley coming over to invite our kids to swim. Using my quick thinking on the fly skills I said yes and they were gone running across the huge lawn between our houses, swim suits in tow in five seconds.

Now, for the record, I don't just let anyone take my kids. I hadn't even BEEN to Shirley's house or done a back ground check with the FBI. It just seemed good.

That was two summers ago and they have spent a lot of time in her pool. And Shirley has spent more time with a hot glue gun and paper than she ever thought possible. Yes, the paper addiction crossed the property line and has spread...and we're both richer for sure!

Fairy Scrapmother Gift

 I have learned a lot this year. Starting to blog is a bit intimidating. And then there is the whole how do you want to blog subject. Like do you want to just post your project or do you want to share why you did what you did? Or go a bit farther and take it down to a personal level? All good choices that work.

Me personally, my goal is to be real. Those are the posts I like to read the best. And when I say real, I don't mean DRAMA real. I mean, really real like the Velveteen Rabbit. The kind where a little fairy kisses you on the nose real. The good kind of real. And, my guess is if you are reading this, I am reading your blog and you are posting real stuff so a huge thanks from this fan!

Anyhow, that sort of brings me around to my next gift.

This little book is long since in the mail to Helen in South Africa.

She pops in almost daily to my brain in my inbox or on blackberry messenger chat or in blog land on her blog. It is an interesting thing to connect with someone so far away you may never meet in person.

I just didn't think she should wait to see her present. It could take WEEKS! I have this horrible problem where I want to give presents IMMEDIATELY to the person who is getting them. Picture me hopping on one foot right now, wanting to hit the POST button and then text Helen to go read my blog NOW!

Helen blogs about real stuff too. I am pretty sure our 11 year old girls are related somehow and that both our cats may be competing for crazy cat of the year award.

I like to see her as my Fairy Scrapmother. Who else can I text and get the answer to whether it is journaling with one "l" or two? And her opinion on which one to use since it is most certainly jargon to the scrap industry and not technically a real word.

Anyhow, this is a smash book. Or, my version of one. I have watched a lot of people do smash books in blog land and they look like a blast. I have also read posts of them having to modge podge pages together since the pages are thin, so I decided to come up with my own for Helen. Not sure if she will want to try her hand, but if she doesn't, I am sure she can use this for something creative. Sketches maybe? Thoughts? Who knows.

The actual book came from Big Lots. We just got one in our town and it's funny for me to say what a BIG DEAL it actually is since our other choice is Walmart or an hour drive. They had these pretty little books and I fell in love with the vintage cover. Of course, that is just about all that is now left, just the front & back cover! Everything else I've changed up!

I replaced the photo pages with real heavy duty smooth cardstock. AND, those little black ribbon thingies on the cover screw out so she can take the pages out to play with. Hand dyed the pink ribbon which is the US version of seam binding with some inks and also dyed the lace behind it a mottled green. The little red ribbon rose & silver eye lash ribbon came from Shirley and other two are from a local shop who sells handmade flowers.

And, the little girl on the cover isn't Helen when she was little, it was an image I found out on the Graphics Fairy that made me laugh and laugh. I also pulled a trick out of Helen's book and used nail polish to change up the gold circular frame to match the rest of the little metal pieces!

Anyhow, thanks Helen for being a great bloggy friend from thousands of miles away. Have a very merry Christmas with extra glitter on top!

Sunday Stories: Hank and the Milk Snake by Bruce Mero

Here is another story by my Dad. Funny thing is that I remember it. Hank was one cool dude. In fact, when I drive to my Mom and Dad's house and pass by his farm, I have great memories of hanging out with the new calves and barn cats. And for the record, snakes still do not bother me today. 

And if you get a chance to read this, leave my Dad some love. It's working because he wrote another story for my blog!!! 

Hank and the Milk Snake

by Bruce H. Mero

From our beginning days as gardeners, Gretchen and I have attempted to minimize the chemicals we use on our plantings and, over the years have managed to eliminate them completely on the vegetables we grow.  Integral to this process is our encouragement of beneficial insects, spiders, toads and snakes in the garden to discourage the bad guys from eating our plants. This was easy to do in most cases. What gardener doesn’t delight in watching lady bugs munching on aphids or a praying mantis decapitating a grasshopper? Good bugs eating bad bugs. No problem. Admittedly, however, I am still a bit squeamish about allowing spiders and snakes the unfettered access to our place that this type of pest management requires. I know they are helping to keep my veggies free of pests, but my flight-or-fight instinct still engages momentarily when the black plastic beneath my knees moves and I can detect the outline of a patrolling garter snake as it searches for lunch. Intellectually, I am comfortable in the knowledge that the critter is doing good things under that plastic, but something deep inside of me still feels threatened and wants to run for a rake or shovel for protection. As irrational as it may be, innate fear always trumps intellect. Instinct is strong motivation.

            Our daughter, Mitra, does not have that fear, or at least doesn’t exhibit it. The presence of a variety of insects, amphibians, reptiles and other fauna around the farm presented her with many things watch, talk to and play with. Her favorite thing was to capture critters and show them to others. During her childhood, a menagerie of frogs, toads, newts, efts, tadpoles, sunfish, mice, snakes, baby birds, baby rabbits, baby woodchucks, chickens, spiders, butterflies, worms and stray cats, among other things had been cradled in her seven-year-old hands and shown to whomever was around. On one occasion Gretchen was in the kitchen when Mitra ran through the back door carrying a large Milk Snake to show her mother. The Milk Snake she had captured today in the sweet corn patch behind the barn had been in the kitchen several times previously, and had once bitten her nose as she attempted to kiss it on the head. This snake had been around several summers and had grown to four feet in length. He was magnificent with bold patterns of tan and reddish-brown bordered in black. His skin was smooth and glossy. Gretchen calmly admired the trophy and then asked her to take the snake back outside.  Mitra ran out the back door and to the back of the barn where she released it. The snake lay still in the warm sun.

It was the time for the second cutting of hay and the dairy farmer from the farm south of ours was bailing hay in a field just up the road and ferrying hay wagons back and forth. On one such trip, a loaded wagon had a flat tire and Hank had parked the rig in the road across from our front yard and driven the tractor to his place to get a spare tire. He had returned. Mitra rounded the corner of the barn just in time to see Hank crawl under the hay wagon with a jack to begin the tire change.

Hank was a 220-pound, muscular six footer wizened by a life of hardscrabble farming on this rocky hill. Mitra barely reached his waist when standing along side and was a quarter of his weight. Hank and Mitra were pals and they were a sight together. Naturally she wanted to show her friend her latest pet, so she ran back and recaptured the Milk Snake which was still where she had put it in the sun.

At this point in my story, I need to establish a little context for what occurred next. Hank hated snakes; he absolutely despised them. This fact was legendary. Needless-to-say, he didn’t share our philosophy about good critters controlling bad critters. Snakes were bad, period. Any encounter with a snake over his 60 years of farming usually ended with the snake dead and Hank evacuating. He detested nothing more than being surprised by a snake.

Mitra was short enough to walk upright under the hay wagon. She said hello to Hank who lay on his side, his back to her, jacking up the wagon. Hank grunted a greeting and went back to the task at hand. He had no time to visit.

“Hank,” she said, “I have something to show you.” 

“I’m busy right now,” he replied, “show me later.”  Mitra stood there for a minute or so and when she figured that it was now “later” she walked around to Hank’s front side, squatted and held the Milk Snake about two feet away and at eye level with her friend. Hank looked up at her. He looked at the snake. His eyes looked again into her eyes and then he focused on the snake. It was several seconds before he fully recognized what she was showing him, but when he did, his panic was instantaneous. With flight mechanism fully engaged, he attempted to stand-up. He thumped his head on the bottom of the wagon and fell back down. He tried again. Thump. Again. Thump. The gravel under his feet flew. With each head thump on the bottom of the wagon came an expletive. This was repeated many times more before he rolled clear of the wagon and ran a hundred feet down the road, holding his head and cursing. 

His contortions and epithets under the wagon had frightened Mitra. She dropped the snake and ran back towards the house. Her mom, meanwhile, had seen the whole thing and was leaning against the kitchen doorway nearly doubled over with laughter. After a few minutes, Hank regained enough composure to climb back onto his tractor and retreat. Haying was done for that day.

The hay wagon stayed in the road until nightfall. Hank returned after dark to finish changing the tire and drag the wagon home; after dark and, hopefully, after a seven-year-olds bedtime. The Milk Snake survived the encounter. He lived several more summers; growing fat in our garden and making many more trips into the house.  

Happy Easter

Well, my friend Lisa was VERY specific about requesting NO CHRISTMAS PRESENTS. Very. And, if you know Lisa, it is always wise to follow her direction. Not to mention she has one of the most interesting backyards I know of here. They do scrap and I'm like a kid in the candy store when I browse through their piles of metal. 

She never said NO EASTER PRESENTS. So, I made this lovely little bird cage for her the other day. I had found this bird cage a while back. It's not old, but certainly does not look new, so will work for her decorating. 

I used a little Easter Card I downloaded from The Graphic Fairy and carefully colored one of the hand made flowers I got from The Mad Recycler. Not sure what kind of glue Janessa used, but when I dumped several shades of glimmermist (didn't spray it, both were clogged and in a fit of grouchy just took the tops off and dumped) on the flower, it slowly fell apart. After the pretty little petals dried, I reassembled with hot glue). Interestingly enough, the magnet she used the back really helped as I was able to just place this flower here and didn't have to glue it. That way when Lisa stores it, she can take the flower off and wrap separately.

AND here is a little picture of my birdie friend who is hanging out in her pressie! Wish me luck, hope she loves it and doesn't pound me.

Thrifting and Gifting: Some Special Trees

I spent a large chunk of Oct/November entertained on the blogging front by Lisa's 12 Days of Christmas Milk Cartons. Between the vintage TV, real windows to the ice made out of sandwich bags, I was constantly amazed. Today I went to her blog to grab some links and it's SNOWING on her blog. Seriously? That is some talent. Although, I like invisible snow personally or the kind that is sparkly on a Christmas card. 

Anyhow, the other day she sent me these funky metal leaves and some hedge apples. The leaves and I are working through some issues, (meaning I need to channel my inner Tim Holtz and make something super awesome) but the hedge apples and I are quite happy. They are funny little fruits that are basically inedible but have that funky green color. And, they have a bit of a citrus smell. Since my parents are Master Gardeners I bought some with me for Turkey Day and Dad and I spent some time googling their uses.

Basically, it appears they are good for feeding squirrels. Or poking them full of cloves. Either way, I love them with their ugly.

So, thought I would send her something funky back preferably something green. I first thought little trees to go with her milk cartons until I (duh MITRA!) realized they hang on the tree. So, I made them anyway. But thought they needed little stumps. I was thinking corks 'til I spotted this post by Patti West where she made trees and used these candle sticks she found at Walmart. Plus, she is local to me so I knew odds were that I could find them. Of course, adding a candle stick would make the tree much much bigger than a milk carton. BUT, so pretty! On the way to the store I ran into North County Neighbors where they were having a huge holiday bash. (as in free cookies and hot coco). And found this other little beauty, one single sad candle stick (silver none the less) from Oneida Silversmith. OH, poor little lonely candlestick, I can make you happy!

I love re purposing something, in fact, with the exception of the Styrofoam cones and pearl head pins, everything on both trees pretty much are using up old stash. The old buttons and lace were from Marilyn and   dyed where appropriate.

So hopefully they arriving at Lisa's house in one piece. I begged the nice guy at the post office to take care of them.

And, look at my other find! This cutie pie puppy dog! He reminds me of my Westie so I had to bring him home.I don't think I will change him up at all. Too cute and faded already.

And last but not least, this lovely light blue bowl. I think it used to house butter. It might have been a whole $3. I know, loveliness can also be cheap! It is holding some of my more special ribbon. The pup up there was quite a bit more, like $15, but boy, he is making me happy hanging out with my scrap stuff! 

Fun times! Thanks for hanging with me my friend and keep up inspiring!

Team Turkey page for Another Freaking Scrappy Challenge

Giggle.

No seriously. We are this nuts. 


So when discussing the Thanksgiving Holiday and our time off, THE MAN made the bold statement that all he wanted to do for Thanksgiving was play paint ball in our woods. Well, it was unseasonably warm for most of Nov. so I don't blame him. 


The day after Thanksgiving he got his buck, so was ready for us to start using our woods again. Pretty much fall hits and we've got strict instructions not to bother the deer. Nice for them, but we miss our woods and creek!


So, we got some "trainer" paint ball guns and had the kids give it a whirl. No way we were going to ask them to do something they weren't cool with. Oh my. They are totally more devious and sneaky than I imagined. 


THE MAN and I did have prior experience with paint ball. We played when we were younger and up to the point where fall turned into winter and the balls were frozen. It's not horrible getting hit with one unless of course you only have one layer of clothing. So, my outfit was from my earlier days playing and was the only thing still around since, hey, I don't wear camouflage as a normal thing. 


This page was for a challenge hosted by none other than the very awesome Another Freaking Scrappy Challenge Site :


Our challenge this time around is to scrap a treasured Thanksgiving memory for you, DO NOT USE THE COLOUR ORANGE anywhere in the layout. Ha ha!! If you do not celebrate Thanksgiving – how about scrapping what you are thankful for, or why not scrap a family reunion or gathering????


That of course was right up my alley with my non-traditional photos and layout!


This page was designed to be predominately green since the whole point of the game is to not be seen. Or at least be hard to see. I did use a scrap I had that had a wee amount of orange in the little itty bitty little pumpkins, but I am sure there is some fine print that allows for microscopic amounts of orange....I did want to give a small nod to Thanksgiving, a holiday that gets smothered in Christmas. I also opted to use pretty things. I mean, it SOUNDS and LOOKS like a vicious game. Let me assure you, not only do we have the proper gear for it to be safe, but we don't take it that seriously. 


Although I am hard to see, I am easy to hear. I can usually be found crouched behind a large rock giggling like a hyena. Of course, once I am HIT by a paintball gun you can totally hear me. I might let a few naughty words fly and then there is the laying on the ground kicking my feet part too. You are supposed to exit the game with dignity and your gun held up high over your head. Me, I chose the flailing around & verbal method to alert everyone that I am down. 


Now, this isn't to say this game doesn't bring out the bad parent in all of us. Here is a conversation I heard.

THE MAN:  (yelling something indecipherable to his team)
Lexi:  What did you say, Daddy?
Me: (Lexi, shhh, don't give yourself away)
THE MAN:  PUT YOUR HEAD UP
Lexi:  What? What did he say Mommy?
Me: Lexi, never mind. HE IS A BAD DADDY.


He did need the advantage. Where a tree doesn't exactly cover an adult very well and there are usually parts sticking out that can get hit by a paint ball...it covers the small people quite well. They are really hard to get out. My son comes up with the best strategies. He came up with the creep along the creek method down below the bank where they can't see you and come at them from behind method. I always try to make sure he's on my team although the daughter is a great shot. You just can't go wrong with either of them. I typically am the weak link!


The very lovely doily in my stash is from Eye Candy Creations and is my last one, sob! I have used them carefully so hopefully I can get my hands on more! Also used a bit of dyed gauze and green twine, love them both. The little green sparkly twirly thingies I found in a basket at JoAnnes the other day. I haven't even heard of the brand, but they were sparkly so perfect for me. If glitter was a food group, I'd probably eat it!


Anyhow go have yourself a play along with this challenge. I for one had a nice time taking a break from all the Christmas stuff and my brain was a wee bit clearer after.