Baby Socks! Baby Socks! Oh Baby! Baby Socks!

I'm going to be an auntie!! My friend, Erin, is great with child and March will herald the arrival of baby Sophia Grace. I cannot wait to see Erin as a mom - she's going to be simply amazing. Although I'm not sure she's going to have much time with Baby Sophie since all of us Aunties - BFF''s Brenda, Karen, Eileen and I - are already staking our claims to the little sweetie-to-be. Seriously. Our sense of entitlement is astonishing.
Last weekend, we had a shower for Erin and Baby Sophie at Brenda's house where - oddly enough - the cassata cake developed a baby bump before our very eyes! Talk about a theme party.
And the baby socks? I rolled 'em up into tiny little sock roses. Didn't they turn out cute up there on that package? And talk about cinchy to make. I hope Erin likes 'em.
Frankly, I hope they buy me some brownie points which I can turn in to extra time with Baby Sophie when she gets here.
I know what you're thinking, and you're right.
When it comes to vying for Baby Time, I'm shameless.
Totally. Unabashedly. Shameless.

The Jelly Belly Incident

A few months ago, I spilled an entire Dunkin Donuts iced coffee down my stick shift. After I finished cussing, I called my dad to see if I broke my car. After all, this is the man who taught me how to change my own oil, and take a car out of a skid (after first listening to me scream when he put it into the skid). He also made me parallel park so often I can probably do it with my eyes closed.

It’s probably more relevant, however, that I mention this is the same man who once brought home a distributor cap which my five year old self promptly used to hold crayons.

When I told him about spilling coffee down my stick shift, there was the briefest bit of silence. Then he told me I should be fine, that the coffee probably just dripped right out of the transmission housing and I shouldn’t worry. I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked dad, just as I’d thanked him a gazillion times before for being there whenever I have goofy automotive questions.

But then I got to thinking – my iced coffee had three packets of Equal in it. Would the sugar make the transmission all goopy?? I envisioned my car running slower and slower, like some mechanical behemoth trying to fight its way through molasses

I dialed dad again. I explained my question again. There was the briefest moment of silence again. Then dad assured me I’d be fine again. But this time, I think he was trying not to laugh.

Dunkin Donuts coffee damage is not evident for thousands of miles. I know this because even though everyone tells me differently, I just know it was my coffee clumsiness that caused my transmission to die with only 188,000 on it.

Fast forward to little ol’ me buying a car so gently used it still smells new. I feel like a queen – all the parts work on this car, it has no wear, it smells good and its shiny. Most importantly, I can go 60 and the tach needle isn’t on 4. I am decidedly protective of my new car. I scout parking spaces in the ouback when I go to the mall. I hand wash it at least once a week even when it’s snowing. I cover the floors with cardboard and carpet pieces. I dust off the dashboard before I get out of the car. Having learned my Dunkin donuts lesson, I’m careful to hold on to my coffee cup now whenever I brake hard.

Which is why I was unprepared for the Jelly Belly incident.

Jelly Bellys are my favorite guilty pleasure. Not only do they look like little jewels, each one is a tasty little surprise. My favorite flavors are pear, mango and grapefruit, but I’ll eat ‘em all. Yesterday, a friend gave me a little packet of Jelly Bellys as I left work. I immediately poured them into one of my two cup holders so I could snack my way through rush hour traffic.

But when I got into my car this morning, something turquoise caught my eye. A Berry Blue Jelly Belly was winking tantalizingly at me, resting just beneath the emergency brake handle along the console. Ooooh – a Jelly Belly for breakfast! Without thinking, I pulled up the handle to grab it. . . and watched the Jelly Belly disappear into the nether regions of my cars inner workings.

Damn.

I rested my head on the steering wheel. Not only had I lost a Jelly Belly, I’d already broken my new car. With a sigh, I pulled out my cell phone and called Dad. This time the period of silence was perceptible.

“Suse?” Dad finally said. He’d called me by the nickname I’ve had since I was little, which was appropriate, because I was feeling very much like a five year old who’d just broken off Burnt Sienna, Marigold, Fuschia and Evergreen crayons in a car part she mistook for a toy.

“Yes, dad?”

“Don’t eat in your car anymore. You'll break it.”

How to Know It's Time toTake Down Your Christmas Tree

1. Your ornaments need dusting. Heck, so do the branches.
2. You buy new furniture and wonder if the wood tones will clash.
3. Your family has gotten used to stowing their shoes under the tree instead of presents.
4. Your kids hang their wet mittens and scarves on the tree to dry.
5. Birds returning from the south keep crash into your window trying to roost in it.
6. You gave your tree a name.
7. Neighbors are suddenly speechless when they stop over for coffee.
8. You wander the aisles at Target looking for boxes of Valentines Day ornaments.
9. You're already planning a theme for Martin Luther King Jr. Day and Memorial Day and Fourth of July.
10. Your dog just casually got up from your lap to wonder over and have a drink from the tree stand.

Resolution-izing 2010

Whoooooeeee. Dusty in here. Looks kinda forlorn and abandoned. You go ahead and read on whilst I put on a pot of tea and get rid of all these cobwebs.

Tis the season for resolution-izing our lives.

Standing on the tippy-toe edge of a brand, spanking new year we are already expected to define it by making resolutions. It’s like looking at a picture of a tiny embryo and guessing what species it is – this early in the game, it could be anything. And oh! the pressure to perform! Be better, be skinnier, be thriftier, be smarter, be more patient, be be be be until it's no wonder we crack by Valentines Day.

So I’ve granted myself permission to step out of the rat race. I am not making any 2010 resolutions; I’m not setting myself up for failure and I’m not driving myself crazy. I’ve reached an age where I don’t need a resolution to make me value how blessed I am. Those blessings (like finding out you actually like reading my blog) show up every day of my life and each time they do, they amaze me and fill me with wonder. I could no more take them for granted than I could chop off my right hand. And words scribbled on a page won’t make me eat fewer cookies or stop losing my temper or start drinking more water.

(OK, OK – I hear you. But mere words scribbled on a page will not make me blog more often no matter how hard you wish. Life happens and sometimes we have to spend all of our time doing what needs to be done instead of doing what we want to. Sorry.)

I’ve decided ditch to resolutions and live 2010 by a single, simple question. Call it a challenge or a mantra or whatever you wish, this question will be my gentle guide for every decision and keep me on the path I want to travel in this next year. I’ve already stuck it to my mirror and tucked it into my wallet and slipped it under the sun visor. With this single question nestled reassuringly into the back of my mind, I have a resolute hopefulness about 2010. So my hope for each and every dear and treasured (and patient!) Scrapinator reader is that 2010 brings you all things bright and beautiful. God bless you all!

And if you're still here reading, for whatever it's worth here's the question I’m living by in 2010:

How many things can you change in a year?

A Guru for Christmas

Like my new look??
I'm not a savvy when it comes to blog bling and style. Most of the time, you'll find me with my nose pressed against the Blogger window, wide-eyed at all the beeeyoooteeeeful blogs out there and sighing in wonderment. Let's face it - this blog o' mine has been looking a tad neglected for quite some time now.
I have always been in awe of my friend Cheryl's blog Capturing a Moment in Time. There's always some new background and banner to ooh and aah over - the perfect backdrop to the amazing creations this lady makes. Heck, even if I didn't worship her talent, I'd check this blog just to see what cute dress she put on it that morning.
So last week, I dropped her a note over at MSW and basically begged shamelessly for some help. In typical Cheryl style, she began typing out instructions for the blog impaired but finally just PM'd me her phone number and we set a time to talk.
I don't know many of those fancy computer acronyms for things. For instance, it wasn't all that long ago that Annie had to tell me what LMBO stood for. But I do know that IRL means friends "in real life." Those are the folks you can put your arm around; the ones who will walk over and dope slap you when you need it. Like my "real life," I've been blessed to have found some really WONDERFUL people at Scrappy Jo's and My Sketch World - people who have become as dear to me as any of my friends I can walk over and hug. Since I've only gotten to know them through writing and posting, though, I will call them IMC. That stands for "in my computer," that happy little world where a whole nuther set of people who are dear to me live. (Please feel free to use IMC - just leave a quarter under your saucer.)
Till this morning, I've only met one IMC pal IRL - Jennie from MSW invited me to her house because she had some goodies to donate to Calling All Cards for Breast Cancer. I cannot tell you how askeered I was to meet her. What if I snorted when I laughed? What if I belched? What if I got nervous and blurted out something stupid?? Well, of course none of those things happened. Jennie and her sweetie pie daughter, Miss Ellie, were such fun and we had one terrific visit.
Still. . . . I was a tad nervous as I dialed Cheryl's number this morning. But sure enough, a sweet voice answered my call - just perfect for the Cheryl I had in my mind. In short order, she walked me through tidying up my blog, made me feel secure enough to try Picasa and told me that her vast storehouse of computer wisdom is completely self taught.
Awed again.
We talked about her grandkids and shoes and the fact that everyone needed a guru. I hope that was an offer because when it comes to this blog stuff, I need all the help I can get.
So armed with that warm pat on the back, I played around with backgrounds and Picasa and gave ol' Scrapinator a holiday makeover after we hung up. I even figured out how to upload the picture I took of some Christmas candles and use them as a banner.
Before a knock at my front door cut short our telephone conversation, though, Cheryl and I agreed that 2010 was going to be the year we'd get in our cars and meet somewhere. And by golly, I'm considering that to be my first resolution for the next year.
So here's a big ((((HUG)))) and a heartfelt thank you to Cheryl for helping me give a snappy, festive look to Scrapinator.
And I've come up with another new acronym you can feel free to borrow: CIAS. That stands for Cheryl is a sweetheart.

December Design Team Creations

Woke up this morning and eeek! there was the first day of December staring me in the eye. Where in the heck did that come from?!? I'm pretty sure yesterday was July 4th and I was complaining about about the humidity.
I made good use of my post-surgical time off to work on some Christmas goodies as part of the design teams at Scrappy Jo's and My Sketch World. Sigh. I feel fortunate every single day that I get to be a part of these amazing websites and hang out with such cool, creative ladies.
I got to work on Lucy's December sketch over at MSW. Around this time of the year, my cardmaking mojo can always use a shot in the arm. And for me, nothing gives me inspiration like one of Lucy's terrific card sketches. I knew what I wanted to do with this sketch the moment I saw it - see what I mean about inspiration??? There were, however, a couple of technical hurdles to overcome. The first is cutting a nice, clean circle without a diecut machine or anything. The trick to that is lots of cussing. The second issue was what material to use to actually make a snowglobe. AOK solved that problem by cutting me a piece of window film which worked beautifully. Tucked a few punched snowflakes inside and voila! a snowglobe Christmas card. I even made myself use that piece of SEI paper I couldn't bear to part with last season!
Jo's pack o' December Creative Team goodies perked me right up - talk about that Christmas feeling! One of the things she sent me was goodies from Kaiser Craft's Dear Santa line. For some reason, this year I am drawn to holiday papers that break from the traditional red/white/green color scheme. So what fun I had with this "Pony" paper. Jo also sent along some of American Crafts "Merrymint" ribbon - so velvety and yummy. The photo I used is of the town square here in Painesville. I shot this just after dawn one morning when all was peaceful and calm so I played the title off the headline on the paper itself.
Jo also sent me some of BoBunny's gorgeous Snowy Serenade line. The designers at BoBunny never cease to surprise and astound me. I used the "Winter Night" pattern to make a distinctly non-Christmassy card. But who doesn't like to receive a nice thank you note after the holidays?? Actually, I'm in love with the frosty beauty of this entire BoBunny line and had a ton of ideas for each of the papers Jo sent me.

If I were you, I'd hop over to Scrappy Jo's and order some Bo Bunny and Kaiser Craft since both are on sale now. While you're there, check out all the terrific stuff the other Creative Team creations using these papers!
You should also check out what the rest of My Sketch World's Card Design Divas did with Lucy's card sketch, as well as her December layout sketch. Pretty amazing stuff!

As for me, I'm hoping Santa is a right scrappy old elf. That way, everyone can find some scrappy goodness under their tree!

The Kneewalker Reveal!!

It's here - the solution to my uniped-ness!
My Drive Kneewalker was delivered by a nice man in a big truck last Friday, and let me tell you - this baby rocks. Er, rather it rolls.
I first saw this kneewalker after my last foot surgery, ironically on the day I was told I could toss my crutches and walk free forever. As I was leaving the doctor's office, in zipped a man on this. . . contraption. He wheeled around the corner and slid along the counter with all the ease in the world.
I was awed.
So when the doctor wrote out a prescription for one of these after this surgery, I couldn't wait to start exploring them.
Except so many of them looked ugly and geriatric, with baskets and handle bars and turning radii and big wheels. No thank you.
This model can be turned on a dime and goes as fast as I'd like - perfect for the long hallways at work. I rest my right knee on the little shelf thingy, and then move along using my left leg just like a scooter. I'm practicing using my crutches as oars but so far it's not as efficient.
Freedom found. Me and my kneewalker have been all over the house and back with nary a problem.
Look out, world. Frankenfoot just went mobile!

The Best Kind of Black Friday Sale

OK. So you've done the 4AM Black Friday shopping. You've saved a gaggle of cash, come home with great bargains and deserve to do a little something for yourself.
Here's what you do - head over to Scrappy Jo's for her Black Friday sale! And Jo's Black Friday sale lasts through Sunday.
What can you save, you ask?? How about a WHOPPING 30% on everything!!
The new Bo Bunny Christmas Serenade line. Major yuminess.
Pink Paisley Glitter Alphas. Tres chic.
Stickles, Cuttlebug plates, Cricut cartridges, BG Bling, Kaiser Pearls, ribbons - everything could possibly need to get your scrap on is ON SALE. Be sure to use code BLK30.
So go on. Treat yourself - you know you deserve it! Head to Scrappy Jo's and put the perfect touch on your Thanksgiving weekend.
A great sale at Scrappy Jo's. Now THAT'S something to be thankful for!!

PENDING ANNOUNCEMENT

We went to MIL's last night and shortly after dinner suffered Turkey Coma from all the trytophan. However, we discovered that this condition is best reversed by consuming mass quantities of pumpkin pie.
Tomorrow will be Thanksgiving Part Deux at Applegate Farm, for which yesterday's eating frenzy was but a mere rehearsal. Word has it that we will be eating a beef roast of Flintstone proportions, which is a great start to any meal. Since Aunt Lois only knows how to cook for a group the size of an army, the last roast she served us was quite aptly described by my mother as a "haunch." I would not be surprised if she serves the big brother tomorrow.
Please check back here Sunday as I shall be posting photos of a MAJOR DEVELOPMENT affecting my future as a uniped.
In the meantime if you shopped today, put your feet up and rest a bit a. Much to the relief of local shoppers in NE Ohio, that's how Frankenfoot and I spent the day!

Thanksgiving Moments

When I was little, we’d always spend Thanksgiving at my Grandma Thompson’s house and sit down for our feast in the middle of the day. Afterwards, we’d wobble away from the table to watch football, catch up on family gossip, take naps and play games. All the dishes would have been washed, and the food kept handy for picking throughout the afternoon. Then about 5 or so, everyone would wander back into the kitchen, rubbing their tummies like they hadn’t eaten in weeks. We’d haul everything back onto the dining room table for Round Two. Even then, everyone had leftovers to take home.

One year, my Great Grandpa Graham and some of my great uncles came for Thanksgiving from Hazeldell, Illinois. My grandmother had grown up on a farm, so these boys were used to hunting to put food on the table. And since you never arrived empty handed, they brought squirrel and rabbit and turkey for our dinner. My sister, Linda, and I were excited to see Great Grandpa, and even more excited when one of the great uncles gave us each bracelets made of the softest white little puffballs. We put them on right away and skipped off to Aunt Lois’ old bedroom to pose in front of the mirror like we were models. One of the great uncles happened by and seemed pleased that we liked our presents, telling us each bracelet was made from bunny tails.

Bunny tails? Why would you take the tails off of little bunnies? we wondered. And then, it dawned on us. We snatched off our bracelets, left them carefully on Aunt Lois’ old dresser and ran to wash our hands.

Things only got worse at dinner. Great Grandpa and all of the uncles seemed very proud of the heaping platter of meat on the table, and everyone remarked at how good it looked as it was passed around. Except it wasn’t meat. It was little squirrel corpses and bunny bodies. Linda and I ate of ton of Grandma’s homemade noodles and green beans that year, vowing to become vegetarians.

When I was about 12 or so, mom, Aunt Lois and I got out the Scrabble game while the menfolk watched football and talked sports. We were just starting our second game when Uncle Chuck asked if he could play, too, so mom gave him a tray and he drew his letters. When it was his turn, he put on the board. . . well, let’s just say it was a six letter word for an anatomical body part. Both mom (so pretty and prim ) and Aunt Lois (so ladylike) protested firmly but Uncle Chuck had covered a triple word score with the last letter and wasn’t about to lose points. But there are young children present someone hissed but Uncle Chuck was having fun and beating both his sisters at Scrabble. Just about that time, my cousin Al who was about eight strolled into the room and looked at the board over his dad’s shoulder. “Hey dad,” he offered helpfully. “You forgot the “r” in “Virginia!” The next year, my mom decided canasta would be the official Thanksgiving Day game.

When our kids were little, Ken and I would host Thanksgiving at our house. We’d fuss and decorate and shop for weeks, and loved having everyone over for the day. The two Thanksgivings that I was pregnant were when I learned that only non-pregnant males should be given the task of preparing a raw turkey for roasting. Then there was the year Mattie had a cold. I was holding him on my hip as we made trips from the kitchen to the dining room with all the food, and he sneezed into the green bean casserole. No worries. Ken dug out the top two inches of beans, whisked the casserole into the dinig room and no one was the wiser.

Ken’s mom had Thanksgiving a few years ago, and was in a tizzy when we arrived. She’d burnt the rolls. Her squash was dry. But when Ken checked the turkey, he found a bigger problem: there was a glistening white uncooked turkey in the oven. Mom swore she’d turned the oven on to the right temperature but this baby was barely warm. After much discussion, she cranked it up to 500 degrees and pulled the roaster out every 20 minutes or so to baste the bird. Unfortunately, she slid the roaster back into the oven without sliding the rack, and the roaster – turkey, juices and all - fell into the back of the back of the 500 degree oven. There was much steam and hissing followed by much cussing. The kids and I stood helplessly by trying not to laugh as mom and Ken set about capturing a round, slippery bird using two long wooden spoons. When we finally ate at 7PM, the turkey was presented in microwave oven-sized portions. The potatoes were dry, the green beans were wrinkly and the yams were congealed and the turkey leftovers went straight down the disposal.

Thanksgiving this year promises to be a bit less hectic. Gone are the hours in the kitchen since it’s difficult to cook while on crutches. I will help Ken make pies (he is the Pie King in this family).The kids will be here later on and we’ll be eating Thanksgiving dinner tonight at Mom Keener’s. I have every expectation that dinner will be yummy and delicious. Then on Saturday, we’ll head to Applegate Farm for the big Baker family Thanksgiving. I’ll probably look like a Weeble on crutches by the time Thanksgiving is over, but I have much for which to be thankful. A big family to celebrate with that includes parents and aunts and uncles and kids and neices and a nephew, all of whom still love to be together. One terrific husband who changes from a total “guy” into a thoughtful and tireless nurse when needed. Amazing friends who bring such love and laughter into my life. Charlie and Sammy, the VelcroDogs, who are always ready for a snuggle. Heck, I’m even thankful for Frankenfoot. As inconvenient as surgery and crutches are, one day soon I will go back to walking wherever I want whenever I want. That in itself is a blessing beyond measure.

So wherever you are today, whoever you’re celebrating with, I wish you a bounty of Thanksgiving blessings.

Even if you’re in Virginia.

An Unpredictable Moment

I hesitate to write this post because it involves a subject that real ladies don’t talk about. So I’m going to do my best to explain what happened in as delicate and ladylike manner as I can muster. I want to apologize in advance if I offend anyone’s sensibilities, and promise my mother and my aunt and anyone else who’s reading this that I am always very ladylike on a regular basis and I hope you won’t disown me.

Firstly, you need to understand that VelcroDog Charlie is a little. . . well, simple about some things. VelcroDog Sammy can look into a mirror and understand that he’s looking at an image of himself. To Charlie, a mirror is no more interesting than a wall. When someone knocks on a door in a TV show, it’s Charlie that hightails it to the front door barking his little head off. And as you already know, it’s Charlie who’s afraid of things like wind, paper and the beam of light from a flashlight. If VelcroDogs are sitting on me (and when aren’t they these days???) and my stomach growls, Sammy is hopeful that I’ll be heading to the kitchen soon where doggie treats will fall magically from the refrigerator. Charlie glares menacingly at my stomach and growls back

One other thing before I go on with this story. It is important to take a moment to consider some of the touted differences between the sexes. There is an age in every man’s young life, for instance, when he thinks he invented the burp and that it is the most comically sidesplitting talent a human could ever develop. Young girls, however, don’t stoop to such base and crass humor, choosing instead to develop proficiency in the loftier trades like perfecting the sulk and sneaking lipstick past Mom. Besides, everyone knows that ladies don’t burp or make any of those other gross bodily noises in which the male species seems to revel.

Except - forgive me, ladies, for outing our gender - but we do. Heaven help me, but I’m here to tell you that left alone and unattended, under the right set of very unusual circumstances we ladies can be just as. . .um. . . noisy as our male counterparts. Especially if we’ve had general anesthesia and surgery followed by drugs, and our tummies are all discombobulated and trying to recuperate and we’re not sleeping and are all out of sorts - at these times, our bodies can be . . .well . . . unpredictable.

See, I was sitting on the couch this morning and had an . . .unpredictable. . . sort of moment. It was just a moment. Not a big moment or anything, just a regular sort of unpredictable moment if one is given over to that sort of thing but it was a moment you could sort of, well . . . hear, if you catch my meaning.

And that’s when Charlie, who had been draped lazily over my lap, shot off the couch like he’d been poked with a sharp stick. He stood growling and barking at the couch like it had some sort of monster in it. For the next twenty minutes, this dopey little dog patrolled the living room like the German shepherd he longs to be because he was convinced that what he heard (which was, I assure you, only the tiniest, most delicate itty bitty little sound) came from somewhere inside the vast innards of my couch.

That Sammy and I were still sitting on the couch unharmed didn’t even register in his tiny little doggie mind. No amount of coaxing could make him calm down. Something had made a noise he’d never heard before and it was living in our couch cushions. He growled. He snarled; he pranced; he barked. He yapped so hard his little feet came up off the floor. Finally, after much goose-like head bobbing and hackled-up fur, he leaped warily onto the arm of the couch and there he settled like some misinformed sentry, glaring and growling under his breath until AOK came home for lunch.

Of course, I had to explain to AOK what was up with Charlie. I tried my darndest to gloss over what caused the situation, hoping instead to focus on Charlie’s resulting overreaction.

Which brings us once again to another big difference between men and women. A woman should be allowed to retain a certain air of ladylike refinement even if she's done something that leaves her husband rolling on the floor laughing.