Tuesday, December 1, 2015
Happy First Day of the Month
There are always those people that cross my path that are perpetually grouchy. I am determined to love on them and bring them from frown to smiles. It was no different in high school. There was one particular substitute that fell under this category. I got a crack of a smile from her one day, and that was enough for me to continue. This rain cloud of a substitute always seemed to be filling in on the first day of the month, and so I wished her happy first day of the month.
Soon it spread from my wishing her a happy first day of the month, to a thing that I say to family and friends. In our home it has become a fun little game to see who can remember to bid each other greetings before the other. I am lucky to be an early bird, and tend to win. Some months I let people wish me well first, because I just need the extra love and joy to come to me before I can give it out.
I know it's a silly little gig, and perhaps others do this already. I sometimes dream of a world where everyone greets each new month with warm salutations, and shares such hopes with others.
Happy First Day of the Month!
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
Learning Contentment
I find the tiny house movement fascinating. I love viewing tours of peoples homes that you can nearly touch wall to wall. The ingenuity, craftsmanship, and charm they hold resonate deeply with me. I also find that it helps me appreciate the space that I do have.
Sixteen months after downsizing by almost half of our former square footage and some days I long for what I once had. Just like the Israelites, there are days when I am ready to cash it all in and return to the former way of life. In those moments I miss the extra space where we didn't have to eat in the kitchen. I miss having a piano. I miss having a toy room. I miss the extra wall space to hang all the baby pictures. How quickly I have forgotten that I could never get that giant house cleaned. The mortgage payment left us with no wiggle room. How the flow of the basement drove me batty. That the guest room was occupied more often by spiders in the corners than loved ones. That my garden was the size of my dining table. That we all longed for a place in the country and spent hours dreaming, and hunting for such a place.
As the weather has turned cooler, I've been gripped by fear of all of us cooped up in this small space come winter. When I shared this with a friend, she empathized, and that was just what I needed. That, and God whispering to me that I desire to have deep and meaningful relationships with our children, and how our small home fosters such an environment. He also pointed out to me that despite our 'cozy' dining situation I have a hard time keeping the table cleared, how much harder it would be if it was in a separate room?
When we first moved in, Phil was wanting to do an addition right away, I convinced him to just wait and try the house as is, maybe we'd be ok. Winter created some stir crazy moments, so when spring came we leaped at the chance to pursue the addition. We were frustrated by the lack of response by contractors and gave up. I spent hours perusing Pinterest, scheming, trying to come up with something better. All to have my heart sanded down by the Lord and learn to be content in my circumstances.
As I cried out to the Lord He reminded me of the blessings I have forgotten. The house stays cleaner, because the effort is minimal with smaller spaces. Even if the entire house gets trashed, it takes under an hour as a family to restore it to tidy peacefulness. Smaller house for us thankfully means smaller mortgage and utilities, which means we can give more. Being in the country allows us to have our own forest, a garden that practically eliminated a need to grocery shop (other than dairy products, which might change one day!). How close knit we are as a family. That I'm living our dream.
Thanks Lord for the reminder!
Sixteen months after downsizing by almost half of our former square footage and some days I long for what I once had. Just like the Israelites, there are days when I am ready to cash it all in and return to the former way of life. In those moments I miss the extra space where we didn't have to eat in the kitchen. I miss having a piano. I miss having a toy room. I miss the extra wall space to hang all the baby pictures. How quickly I have forgotten that I could never get that giant house cleaned. The mortgage payment left us with no wiggle room. How the flow of the basement drove me batty. That the guest room was occupied more often by spiders in the corners than loved ones. That my garden was the size of my dining table. That we all longed for a place in the country and spent hours dreaming, and hunting for such a place.
As the weather has turned cooler, I've been gripped by fear of all of us cooped up in this small space come winter. When I shared this with a friend, she empathized, and that was just what I needed. That, and God whispering to me that I desire to have deep and meaningful relationships with our children, and how our small home fosters such an environment. He also pointed out to me that despite our 'cozy' dining situation I have a hard time keeping the table cleared, how much harder it would be if it was in a separate room?
When we first moved in, Phil was wanting to do an addition right away, I convinced him to just wait and try the house as is, maybe we'd be ok. Winter created some stir crazy moments, so when spring came we leaped at the chance to pursue the addition. We were frustrated by the lack of response by contractors and gave up. I spent hours perusing Pinterest, scheming, trying to come up with something better. All to have my heart sanded down by the Lord and learn to be content in my circumstances.
As I cried out to the Lord He reminded me of the blessings I have forgotten. The house stays cleaner, because the effort is minimal with smaller spaces. Even if the entire house gets trashed, it takes under an hour as a family to restore it to tidy peacefulness. Smaller house for us thankfully means smaller mortgage and utilities, which means we can give more. Being in the country allows us to have our own forest, a garden that practically eliminated a need to grocery shop (other than dairy products, which might change one day!). How close knit we are as a family. That I'm living our dream.
Thanks Lord for the reminder!
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
Another Year Gone By
Today I turn 33. I'm sure to my parents it is unfathomable that their baby is so grown up. I doubt they ever imagined me gaining gray hairs, dealing with morning stiffness, or drinking coffee before my own kids awake.
I remember once my mother remarking that she didn't really feel that she was getting older until she noticed her hands looking more like grandma's, and that grandma had said something along those same lines. I think I've been curious about the aging process after that comment and I've paid closer attention to what growing older has looked like for me. The body aches are more pronounced, my skin takes longer to heal and has issues with dryness that I didn't in my twenties. My hands hurt most days in a way that makes me wonder if I'll have arthritis like most lovely grandmothers I've met. The gray hair doesn't bother me at all. In fact I find it fun to watch my hair change, mostly because I'm just glad to still have it!
Thirty two was a good year, and I'm glad that it was. For no logical reason, 32 is my favorite number, so I was looking forward to what it brought. In the last year I did some (what I consider) amazing things. I had my first big year of canning. Oddly enough I never counted just how many jars of yummy foods I put up, but it was easily over fifty. I butchered chickens on my own, thanks to our dog getting a few. Experienced dying fabrics with a friend. Learned some new knitting techniques. Had the easiest pregnancy with Finn, and his first five months have been pretty chill too. Thirty two also saw our first full year of homeschooling all of the kids. Grew a pig, and put her in the freezer ourselves. We upped our gardening from an approximately 10x10 organic plot to a 50x90 heirloom organic field. The garden has a larger footprint than our house, which I find amusing. It has been a lot of hard work, especially with a baby, but we are reaping the rewards daily. Currently harvesting and putting up the produce is taking up about 2-4 hours a day! I am blown away daily with how much God is blessing us despite the weeds that I haven't been able to keep at bay (key word for next year--mulch!), the grasshoppers that are in abundance and the vine borers that have attacked my winter squashes.
Had a few adventures, which are always notable to this scheduled personality. Glenwood springs with Phil in January via amtrak was so relaxing. Soaking in the outdoor pool was pretty awesome too! In June my sister and I ventured to Kansas City, we had a blast shopping until we dropped, as I introduced her to the loveliness that is Ikea.
In the last few weeks, I determined that I need to grow myself more. I'm starting small with listening to Ted Talks on youtube while doing kitchen work. One of the speakers taught me that you can learn any new skill if you dedicate just 20 hours into it. Since I've missed having a piano around, and I refused Phil's offer of an electric keyboard (it's just not the same so please don't try and convince me otherwise!), I decided I'm going to learn how to play the ukulele. It also is appeasing my desire to learn how to play the guitar, which is fantastic. I'm less than one hour into learning (when you only get twenty minutes at a time it adds up slowly), but I'm thrilled with the progress I'm making! I'm telling the world so they will hold me accountable to learning. My goal song is Somewhere Over The Rainbow, it is so pretty when played by a ukulele.
It feels sad that I can sum up a whole entire year of my life with just a few paragraphs. I guess though that since I love routine and crave doing the same things day in and day out with few exceptions it stands to reason that I can do just that.
Goodbye thirty two, you treated me well. Hello thirty three, what do you have in store for me?!!?
I remember once my mother remarking that she didn't really feel that she was getting older until she noticed her hands looking more like grandma's, and that grandma had said something along those same lines. I think I've been curious about the aging process after that comment and I've paid closer attention to what growing older has looked like for me. The body aches are more pronounced, my skin takes longer to heal and has issues with dryness that I didn't in my twenties. My hands hurt most days in a way that makes me wonder if I'll have arthritis like most lovely grandmothers I've met. The gray hair doesn't bother me at all. In fact I find it fun to watch my hair change, mostly because I'm just glad to still have it!
Thirty two was a good year, and I'm glad that it was. For no logical reason, 32 is my favorite number, so I was looking forward to what it brought. In the last year I did some (what I consider) amazing things. I had my first big year of canning. Oddly enough I never counted just how many jars of yummy foods I put up, but it was easily over fifty. I butchered chickens on my own, thanks to our dog getting a few. Experienced dying fabrics with a friend. Learned some new knitting techniques. Had the easiest pregnancy with Finn, and his first five months have been pretty chill too. Thirty two also saw our first full year of homeschooling all of the kids. Grew a pig, and put her in the freezer ourselves. We upped our gardening from an approximately 10x10 organic plot to a 50x90 heirloom organic field. The garden has a larger footprint than our house, which I find amusing. It has been a lot of hard work, especially with a baby, but we are reaping the rewards daily. Currently harvesting and putting up the produce is taking up about 2-4 hours a day! I am blown away daily with how much God is blessing us despite the weeds that I haven't been able to keep at bay (key word for next year--mulch!), the grasshoppers that are in abundance and the vine borers that have attacked my winter squashes.
Had a few adventures, which are always notable to this scheduled personality. Glenwood springs with Phil in January via amtrak was so relaxing. Soaking in the outdoor pool was pretty awesome too! In June my sister and I ventured to Kansas City, we had a blast shopping until we dropped, as I introduced her to the loveliness that is Ikea.
In the last few weeks, I determined that I need to grow myself more. I'm starting small with listening to Ted Talks on youtube while doing kitchen work. One of the speakers taught me that you can learn any new skill if you dedicate just 20 hours into it. Since I've missed having a piano around, and I refused Phil's offer of an electric keyboard (it's just not the same so please don't try and convince me otherwise!), I decided I'm going to learn how to play the ukulele. It also is appeasing my desire to learn how to play the guitar, which is fantastic. I'm less than one hour into learning (when you only get twenty minutes at a time it adds up slowly), but I'm thrilled with the progress I'm making! I'm telling the world so they will hold me accountable to learning. My goal song is Somewhere Over The Rainbow, it is so pretty when played by a ukulele.
It feels sad that I can sum up a whole entire year of my life with just a few paragraphs. I guess though that since I love routine and crave doing the same things day in and day out with few exceptions it stands to reason that I can do just that.
Goodbye thirty two, you treated me well. Hello thirty three, what do you have in store for me?!!?
Friday, August 7, 2015
Bacon by the numbers
After a very exhausting two days of slaughter and butchering, church camp, and family visiting, we finally got around to weighing our final products! Without further Adieu, may I present to you Bacon by the numbers.
185 lb Hanging Weight (after draining blood)
3.8 lb back fat to be used for making sausage
22 lb bacon
16.7 lb ribs
63.10 lb ground pork
4 lb pork chops
______________
109.9 lbs
these numbers don't include the organ meats, soup bones, or cooked scraps (a whole meals worth!) that we got off of the non soup bones
All websites we read through said to expect an at best yield of 49%, so I am quite blown away that we got 19 pounds more! Phil says this is the benefit of doing our own butchering, and since he enjoys it so much, I won't mention again about having someone else do it for us.
Phil is already talking about having at least two if not three next year, but the idea leaves me weary. However, I'm sure it will be like gardening--after a huge harvest I want nothing to do with gardening until the dead of winter. I have a feeling that next years catch phrase from my mouth will be 'hog panels' as we discuss our homestead plans!
Monday, July 27, 2015
Bacon's 'Transition'
Warning--if you are not comfortable knowing where your food comes from I highly suggest skipping this post!
The last 24 hours have been a whirlwind for Phil and I, and even though we aren't finished yet, I wanted to write about it while I have a break in the process.
Back in April we got this cute little pig that we named Bacon. She was a 4-H project that the family dog attacked. I thought she was big at around 75 pounds, but after working on her today I realize that was puny by comparison.
Our biggest mistake was only getting one pig. She was so lonesome--even though we'd go out there multiple times a day--that she'd get out. Bacon didn't care about the electric fence and would wander out to see where we were, or what the chickens were doing. Sadly, we couldn't let her free range unless we were right there. That only happened when we were mucking out the kennel. I feel really bad about this, because I want our animals to live as close to their natural habits as possible. This mistake was like a snowball that lead to an avalanche. Since we couldn't let her free range, we had to buy more feed. More feed drove up our costs. Being confined to a kennel without a companion led to Bacon being bored. Her boredom drove her to break any feeding device we installed. Finally we gave up trying to contain the food and just put it on the kennel floor. This allowed her to instinctually root her food around and out of the kennel, causing a lot of wasted feed. Which meant we were feeding her more. Which drove up our costs. Finally we said no more, she's close enough to butcher weight. We were going to keep her until around labor day, but we just couldn't stand the awful circumstances both Bacon and our wallet was in. She weighed in at 200 pounds, which really when I think about it is about a pound day that she added to her girth.
Yesterday we finished off the last of her food. Last night out of either sheer loneliness, hunger, or knowing she was about to meet the freezer, she broke out of the kennel. It was terrifying to see a 200 pound pig barreling towards my garden, and then as I attempted to corral her back, run towards the neighbors'. I've always said that I only run to save someones life, but I guess I'll do it to protect my food supply too! We got her bribed back in with bread, and Phil patched up the break. Phil and I then mucked out the kennel one last time, washed her down, and finished gathering our supplies. As the night slipped away, we reviewed our game plan for the next day, and set the alarm for five in the morning.
We were finished setting up by six, and shortly thereafter Phil did a perfect kill shot. I knew that would be the hardest for me-- to witness the animal that we had tried our best to care for--to meet her end to sustain my own life. It shook me up as anticipated, even though I had watched a video about the process, it was hard to watch the involuntary jerking, and subsequent tongue hanging out of the side of the mouth, so I left to blow my nose and dry my eyes.
Now that Bacon was dead, I could shift my mind over to the task at hand, prepping her for the freezer. Even though we had a pulley with a gambrel, I am still ridiculously sore from the physical exertion at this end of the process.
I knew that the dehairing process would be the most tedious part of the process (for me at least), but since I don't mind tedious it wasn't an issue. Although out of all parts of the slaughtering process I found this the dirtiest since her hair would blow back on me, getting in my eyes, up my nose and generally making me itchy.
Next was the part of the process that Phil was most unsure about. Degutting. He's done deer with the aid of his hunting buddy, and I have done the chickens, so the lack of complete hands on experience was a bit nerve-racking. I read as much as I could to familiarize myself with the process, and Phil watched videos. Still, nothing can really prepare you as much as hands on experience! It took a lot longer than I anticipated simply because it felt like we were flying blind.
Finally after only one hiccup (but a lot of great hands on anatomy for the kids!) we were finished. At one pm our freezer looked like this:
We threw in the other half, and shut the door. Then Phil said 'babe we did it'! We gave each other bloody high fives and sweaty hugs. A few hours later We prepped the kitchen for the butchering process. The kids helped process Phil's deer last fall and were strangely excited to help again.
We have learned a lot through this experience. We know that we would get two pigs if we do it again (Phil is gunho, I'm not ready to commit). I said we needed to have sandwiches and snacks on hand for quick eating. Going from five until almost two by the time I cleaned up without food, while doing such physical work, and nursing a baby during breaks, left me feeling sick and shaky. I also voted for either doing the slaughter on one day with the butchering the next or to order pizza so my kitchen doesn't look like this. Trying to cook and eat food while putting up the pork didn't work so well today, despite my preparedness with the crockpot.
I'm looking forward to what our final poundage is, and to see a freezer filled (albeit not full) with our hard work. Hopefully homegrown pig will be just as mind-blowing to our tastebuds as our roasted roosters have been!
The last 24 hours have been a whirlwind for Phil and I, and even though we aren't finished yet, I wanted to write about it while I have a break in the process.
Back in April we got this cute little pig that we named Bacon. She was a 4-H project that the family dog attacked. I thought she was big at around 75 pounds, but after working on her today I realize that was puny by comparison.
Our biggest mistake was only getting one pig. She was so lonesome--even though we'd go out there multiple times a day--that she'd get out. Bacon didn't care about the electric fence and would wander out to see where we were, or what the chickens were doing. Sadly, we couldn't let her free range unless we were right there. That only happened when we were mucking out the kennel. I feel really bad about this, because I want our animals to live as close to their natural habits as possible. This mistake was like a snowball that lead to an avalanche. Since we couldn't let her free range, we had to buy more feed. More feed drove up our costs. Being confined to a kennel without a companion led to Bacon being bored. Her boredom drove her to break any feeding device we installed. Finally we gave up trying to contain the food and just put it on the kennel floor. This allowed her to instinctually root her food around and out of the kennel, causing a lot of wasted feed. Which meant we were feeding her more. Which drove up our costs. Finally we said no more, she's close enough to butcher weight. We were going to keep her until around labor day, but we just couldn't stand the awful circumstances both Bacon and our wallet was in. She weighed in at 200 pounds, which really when I think about it is about a pound day that she added to her girth.
Yesterday we finished off the last of her food. Last night out of either sheer loneliness, hunger, or knowing she was about to meet the freezer, she broke out of the kennel. It was terrifying to see a 200 pound pig barreling towards my garden, and then as I attempted to corral her back, run towards the neighbors'. I've always said that I only run to save someones life, but I guess I'll do it to protect my food supply too! We got her bribed back in with bread, and Phil patched up the break. Phil and I then mucked out the kennel one last time, washed her down, and finished gathering our supplies. As the night slipped away, we reviewed our game plan for the next day, and set the alarm for five in the morning.
We were finished setting up by six, and shortly thereafter Phil did a perfect kill shot. I knew that would be the hardest for me-- to witness the animal that we had tried our best to care for--to meet her end to sustain my own life. It shook me up as anticipated, even though I had watched a video about the process, it was hard to watch the involuntary jerking, and subsequent tongue hanging out of the side of the mouth, so I left to blow my nose and dry my eyes.
 |
| strange to see this instead of our noisy pig |
Now that Bacon was dead, I could shift my mind over to the task at hand, prepping her for the freezer. Even though we had a pulley with a gambrel, I am still ridiculously sore from the physical exertion at this end of the process.
 |
| Bacon bled out and awaiting to be dunked in the 55 gallon steel drum |
Next was the part of the process that Phil was most unsure about. Degutting. He's done deer with the aid of his hunting buddy, and I have done the chickens, so the lack of complete hands on experience was a bit nerve-racking. I read as much as I could to familiarize myself with the process, and Phil watched videos. Still, nothing can really prepare you as much as hands on experience! It took a lot longer than I anticipated simply because it felt like we were flying blind.
Finally after only one hiccup (but a lot of great hands on anatomy for the kids!) we were finished. At one pm our freezer looked like this:
We have learned a lot through this experience. We know that we would get two pigs if we do it again (Phil is gunho, I'm not ready to commit). I said we needed to have sandwiches and snacks on hand for quick eating. Going from five until almost two by the time I cleaned up without food, while doing such physical work, and nursing a baby during breaks, left me feeling sick and shaky. I also voted for either doing the slaughter on one day with the butchering the next or to order pizza so my kitchen doesn't look like this. Trying to cook and eat food while putting up the pork didn't work so well today, despite my preparedness with the crockpot.
 |
| not a pretty kitchen at the moment, just keeping it real! |
Thursday, July 23, 2015
'Frozen' Chicken
Yesterday heralded a new experience for us. The kids came in an said there was a chicken that seemed to be frozen and they thought she was dead. I quickly went to investigate, hoping they were wrong. Sure enough, just inside of the coop door was a dead chicken. I was quite concerned as she wasn't dead three hours ago when I went in to collect eggs. I wondered about natural causes versus disease. Should a one year old hen be dead already? Was she contagious to the rest of the flock? Phil didn't help alleviate my concerns any when he told me that the avian flu was killing off flocks of chickens and that was why egg prices had jumped. Slightly panicky, I sent someone out every ninety minutes for the rest of the day to check. If was a disease I sure didn't want dead birds just hanging around infecting the rest of the flock. Everyone was alive and well come evening.
It's really unnerving to find a dead chicken and not know why.
Chickens run off and never seen again? Mhmm, curious and frustrating for sure.
Dog attack? Yep, been there done that, a few times.
Bantee chicken picked off by a hawk? Yes, and subsequently dropped half eaten on property. Excellent lesson on predator vs prey for the children.
Wing with a pile of entrails? Lesson learned, even the free ranging roosters need to come in for the night to stay safe from the fox or coyote.
Loosing chickens to predators leaves me with a 'well that sucks' feeling, but at least I know what went down. Finding that younger hen dead left me bewildered and unsettled.
Today when I went to check on them in the morning, one of the older hens was lying in a strange position. My heart raced as I rushed into the run. Just as I was ready to nudge her with my foot she woke up, freaked out, and flew off causing quite the commotion amongst the girls. I'm starting to breathe a bit easier, and the high alert status has been downgraded to questioning concern. Hopefully it was just a hen with a bad heart, or something akin to that, so that the rest of the flock can continue bringing us entertainment as well as eggs!
It's really unnerving to find a dead chicken and not know why.
Chickens run off and never seen again? Mhmm, curious and frustrating for sure.
Dog attack? Yep, been there done that, a few times.
Bantee chicken picked off by a hawk? Yes, and subsequently dropped half eaten on property. Excellent lesson on predator vs prey for the children.
Wing with a pile of entrails? Lesson learned, even the free ranging roosters need to come in for the night to stay safe from the fox or coyote.
Loosing chickens to predators leaves me with a 'well that sucks' feeling, but at least I know what went down. Finding that younger hen dead left me bewildered and unsettled.
Today when I went to check on them in the morning, one of the older hens was lying in a strange position. My heart raced as I rushed into the run. Just as I was ready to nudge her with my foot she woke up, freaked out, and flew off causing quite the commotion amongst the girls. I'm starting to breathe a bit easier, and the high alert status has been downgraded to questioning concern. Hopefully it was just a hen with a bad heart, or something akin to that, so that the rest of the flock can continue bringing us entertainment as well as eggs!
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
First Full Homestead Meal
Today was a huge win. Knowing that everything that was on our dinner plate we grew as a family was great. Phil asked me how it felt to be eating our hard work. I paused, examined what I was feeling, and decided it to be normal. As I continued to savor, I pondered why it didn't feel like the huge victory I had been anticipating. I realized that we've been eating homegrown potatoes for years (thanks to Phil's grandparents), nibbling on garden produce as it's come in, and butchered some roosters (and a few hens thanks to our dog) since we've lived here. So while it was totally awesome for the kids to see the end result of their efforts, there was just a comforting satisfaction of knowing that it was by God's provision that our toils produced food for the table.
 |
| roasted rooster, barbecue sauce from our cherry tomatoes, french fries (hooray for an easy to grow vegetable!), and a salad of sweet peppers, peas, and basil |
Saturday, July 18, 2015
Writing is like a long lost friend
Writing for me is like those amazing friends that come and go through life. You enjoy your time together, but as the days of missed contact turn into weeks, months, maybe even years, you feel ridiculous calling because it's been so long. So you don't. But then you meet up again and it's not awkward, you just pick up right where you left off. Like riding a bike. And that seems to be my experience with writing a blog. I love it, have great intentions of nurturing it, writing a few times a week, etc. Then life happens and I miss a few scheduled sessions. And then I feel weird and guilty for not writing, so I don't. And then I get on to reread a memory from the past that I know I've got journaled here, and I find that it's not so bad being back leaving a trail of my thoughts on the interwebs.
I'm surprised that I haven't posted since January. I've laid out so many posts in my head. Just never got around to logging on and typing them out.
Today marks two years of my grandma's passing. If her death wasn't exactly one month before my birthday, I'm not sure I'd remember it. I've noticed that as time goes by, the sharp sting of her absence has faded. I was able to donate most of the fabric that I inherited of hers, saving back only my absolute favorites that I have plans for if I can ever eek out enough time to bring to life the vision I have for them. I figured if she wasn't able to use them in her lifetime, and I hadn't either in two years, then I should let them go to someone else who could. So a friend who is in the quilters guild happily took them. I makes me smile knowing that pieces of grandma's life are touching strangers.
We don't know what kind of legacy our lives will leave once we are gone. I doubt that grandma ever thought about what would become of her fabric collection once her sewing days were over. I know that she never knew how much her quiet gentle spirit has affected me. I never once heard her complain about her health, pain, circumstances. She was always doing fine, even when she wasn't. Her back pain was so bad and chronic that it was morphine that finally took it away. But I never heard or saw an indication of it. On mornings when I wake up so stiff I can hardly move, I think of her and try my best to not complain. Some days it's not easy, that's for sure! Hopefully by the time I reach grandmotherhood I'll have that down and I can set an example for my grandchildren.
I don't know how much of this post makes sense as it is well beyond my bedtime and I am deliriously tired. Mostly I just can't stop staring at this picture of her at my age. How I've always thought she was a beautiful lady, and if I am her spitting image ( didn't know about this picture until a month ago) what does that say about me? Redefining what I think about myself once again. Ah grandma, sure do wish you were here to see the lady that I'm becoming, and how my babes are growing up into young adults (Abi got her first bra this summer!), and our little farm.
I'm surprised that I haven't posted since January. I've laid out so many posts in my head. Just never got around to logging on and typing them out.
Today marks two years of my grandma's passing. If her death wasn't exactly one month before my birthday, I'm not sure I'd remember it. I've noticed that as time goes by, the sharp sting of her absence has faded. I was able to donate most of the fabric that I inherited of hers, saving back only my absolute favorites that I have plans for if I can ever eek out enough time to bring to life the vision I have for them. I figured if she wasn't able to use them in her lifetime, and I hadn't either in two years, then I should let them go to someone else who could. So a friend who is in the quilters guild happily took them. I makes me smile knowing that pieces of grandma's life are touching strangers.
We don't know what kind of legacy our lives will leave once we are gone. I doubt that grandma ever thought about what would become of her fabric collection once her sewing days were over. I know that she never knew how much her quiet gentle spirit has affected me. I never once heard her complain about her health, pain, circumstances. She was always doing fine, even when she wasn't. Her back pain was so bad and chronic that it was morphine that finally took it away. But I never heard or saw an indication of it. On mornings when I wake up so stiff I can hardly move, I think of her and try my best to not complain. Some days it's not easy, that's for sure! Hopefully by the time I reach grandmotherhood I'll have that down and I can set an example for my grandchildren.
I don't know how much of this post makes sense as it is well beyond my bedtime and I am deliriously tired. Mostly I just can't stop staring at this picture of her at my age. How I've always thought she was a beautiful lady, and if I am her spitting image ( didn't know about this picture until a month ago) what does that say about me? Redefining what I think about myself once again. Ah grandma, sure do wish you were here to see the lady that I'm becoming, and how my babes are growing up into young adults (Abi got her first bra this summer!), and our little farm.
Friday, January 16, 2015
Pumpkin cheesecake smoothie
Today being out of leftovers and all bread being in a frozen state, I threw a conglomerate of ingredients into the blender and served it for a quick lunch. Three of four kids gobbled it up, which I consider a raging success. One cup was surprisingly filling, and we had leftovers!
One 15 oz can pumpkin
1 brick cream cheese
1 cup powdered milk
1 cup ground flax
1 tsp cinnamin
Sprinkling of ginger, nutmeg, and allspice
1 tsp molasses
1/2 cup (not packed) brown sugar
12 ice cubes
15 oz of water
Blend, pour, and enjoy!
Note, if you like your smoothies ice cold this won't suit your tastes. We like ours just chilled in order to avoid the brain freeze factor.
Let me know if you try this, I'd love to hear your thoughts!
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Play silks
I alluded to the gift in my simple Christmas post that I was really excited for the kids. Today I'm eaking out time (read: not cleaning the house) to show off a smattering of those silks.
The dream was born years ago when Abi was a tot playing with them at a friends house. The price was prohibitive for us as Phil was still in college. Through the years I would bring it up but they never made the cut. I even looked into making mine own by dyeing with koolaid. The process intimidated me and I decided that I didn't want them bad enough to try making them on my own.
This year my friend Hannah asked me about it. Finally someone who understood my desire to have them without paying an arm and a leg for the premade variety! Hannah is something of an expert when it comes to fibers, so I knew we could do this together. She did all the leg work learning the process and gathering supplies. I came with my check and aided her in the project. It was so lovely catching up, and the first hour and a half held a fun learning curve. Then we realized that we had probably bitten off more than we should chew for one day, but with the holidays rapidly approaching we didn't have a choice but to press on despite our empty tummies. We survived the last ninety minutes and said the quickest goodbyes known between friends.
The end result was worth it as the silks have mottling color variations throughout. Something that money can't buy. Christmas morning held mixed reviews from the children. Abi and Lizzi were less than thrilled in lieu of the gift bequeathed by their sibling. Miles didn't like them, and Wesley was thrilled and immediately engaged in play.
Since Christmas, I have seen the silks transform into capes, cloaks, baby doll blankets and diapers, bonnets, skirts, and yes, even hair. I'm sure there has been more that I haven't seen. I love that silks are an open imagination you for all ages. I even made some for the baby, because s/he will need them too!
If you're curious whether or not silks would be enjoyed by your kids all you need to do is set up a play date with mine to find out!
Thursday, January 1, 2015
Pillow makeover
Abi was gifted a kids sewing project book for Christmas. After flicking through it I saw an adorable pillowcase pattern. I was totally inspired to create my own. I have some sofa pillows that have seen many moons of fun under our sun. As you can see they are pretty icky looking!
I found enough coordinating pieces from grandmas fabric stash. A few hours later with some helpful input from Phil these delightful vintage modern shams have covered those eyesore pillows.
A fun way to ring in my new year, and now with the cold winter blast, the crafting fever has hit and I'm itching to start some more projects!
Happy creating in 2015 :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)