Just Call me Martha

I just finished my first craft; made in the new, fantastic, super awesome craft room. A whole room dedicated to my insanity. Whee!

I have been wanting to do this little project for ages, and since I finally finished painting Teagan's room last week, it seemed like the time. I took apart a plain bulletin board, painted and varnished the frame, then covered the cork with the fabric. The fabric was a pillowcase I picked up at the Ikea scratch and dent section for a dollar. Now just to hang it in Miss T's room. Speaking of Martha, I picked up this cookbook the other day:

Teagan is dying to make princess cupcakes this weekend. All I need is a fancy apron, and I'll be ready to throw my hat in for mother of the year.

Fall is in the Air...

... which means time for deliciously warm and comforting food. (I know, I know, that was the lamest intro ever.) I made Butter Chicken in the slow cooker tonight, using this recipe. I love her recipes, and this one was delicious. A couple of days ago I made chili and cornbread muffins. I adore these muffins with a passion that is probably somewhat unhealthy, so I thought I would post the recipe. The creamed corn replaces the oil that is usually in cornbread recipes, so they are much lower in fat.

And totally awesome.

Cornbread Muffins:

• 1 cup flour
• 1 cup yellow cornmeal
• 2 tbsp sugar
• 1 1/2 tsp baking powder
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 1 can (14 0z) creamed corn
• 1/2 cup buttermilk (I usually use plain yogurt or sour milk)
• 1 egg
• 2 tbsp butter, melted

Preheat oven to 375. Grease and 12 cup muffin tin. Combine dry ingredients in a large bowl. In another bowl, whisk together wet ingredients. Add to dry ingredients and mix until just moistened. Divide batter among muffin cups. Bake for 20 minutes. Remove from muffin tin and let cool on a wire rack.

Well, Gee Whiz

Having a small child means that often the words in my head don't match the words that come out of my mouth. There is a lot of self censoring in parenting, at least if you have a tendency towards potty mouthery, which I do. I am pretty good at this Pollyanna doublespeak after half a lifetime of working retail. The funny thing is hearing my child say:"Oh shoot!" with the same weird inflection that I get when I am struggling not to say something else.

This rambling actually had little to do with anything today, except that I am working on a project that is giving me fits, and I want to swear. A lot.

I am working on a pair of legwarmers for a friend's daughter, and they are turning out to be quite the frustrating little project. I've done the pattern before, and it is dead simple, but the yarn is being a giant pain. I had two balls of angora yarn to choose from, and the first colourway was a little muddy and dull looking, and just plain bleh, so I undid it. So then I tried it out with the second colour. Now I have this:

What is this, you ask? It is pooling. All the colours are lining up in orderly rows up the length of the project and it isn't so much supposed to do that. (It is much more noticeable in person and I am not letting my perfectionism totally run amok. Really. I promise.) It might be okay looking now, but if I keep on going it will eventually look pretty awful. So I fiddled with the needle size and number of stitches and I am still getting the same effect, only slightly different. So now I am on to yarn choice number three and a project that should have taken me a day or two has stretched on to over a week now without anything to show for it.

Well, shoot.

We are thinking about getting a dog. We already have two cats, and thanks to two trips to the fish store in the same number of weeks, twelve fish. Oh, and a five year old who often spends her time meowing, chirping, and howling. Yet, now that we have a house, a dog seems like the logical progression. Or we are completely insane. You choose.

We have been searching the Petfinder website, looking for a dog that suits all of our requirements. This is a tricky proposition, since there are so many dogs in need of a family it makes you want to bring them all home. That would be a lot of dogs. Also, the dog has to be good with kids, and cats, and energetic, but not too energetic. And cute. Cuteness is important in something that will require you to carry poop around in plastic bags.

The conversations we've been having on IM tend to go something like this:

(Paul is Chopper Dave on IM - I don't know why. Well, I can guess, but the less said about Sealab 2021 the better.)

Chopper Dave says: YES! Delta Wire-haired Pointing Griffon

Chopper Dave says: yes yes yes

Chopper Dave says: hunting pointer

Chryse says: it is ugly

Chopper Dave says: WHAT?

Chryse says: UGLY

Chopper Dave says: who cares?

Chryse says: it looks like a muppet

Chryse says: i care!

Chopper Dave says: it's an awesome dog

Chryse says: is it snuggly?

Chryse says: it doesn't look snuggly!

Chopper Dave says: so snuggly

Chryse says: i think you lie

Chopper Dave says: no cats for the griffon

Chryse says: i'm sorry

Chryse says: i would have an ugly dog if it would make you happy

Chryse says: what about this one?

Chopper Dave says: no St. Bernards

Chryse says: why not?

Chryse says: SO CUTE AND CUDDLY

Chopper Dave says: St. Benards are uuuugly and smelly and drooly

Chryse says: St Bernards are cute and cuddly and will rescue you from a sinking boat

Chryse says: ...and drooly

Chopper Dave says: what would I need a dog that saves me from a boat?

Chryse says: just in case

Chryse says: what if you fall down a well?

Chopper Dave says: 116 pounds?

Chryse says: or need some Neo Citran?

Chryse says: it is 116 pounds of awesome!

Chopper Dave says: we should get that weimaraner

Chopper Dave says: totally

Chopper Dave says: seriously

Chopper Dave says: The Weimaraner is loyal and loving to his family, an incredible hunter, and a fearless guardian of his family and territory

Chryse says: i don't know if we should get a dog of better moral character than us

Chryse says: it might make us look bad

Here Comes The Sun

I found the wire cutters, finally - apparently the length of time it takes to find something is inversely proportionate to how little time it took to toss it in a random box while packing. Of course, after two days of looking for the damn things, I was informed that Kyle (who always saves the day) put a pair of wire cutters in our housewarming gift, and I just hadn't noticed them. Well, there ya go.

So the clothesline is installed and I have been happily doing laundry (crazy, I know) all weekend. I am inordinately proud of the silly thing, and feel all virtuous and thrifty every time I pull out the clothespins and head outside.

I laid with my daughter reading bedtime stories on a sweet smelling pillowcase that had dried in the sun, and it may have confused her just a little when I kept insisting it smelled better than the other pillows. She kept giving me that look, the one she gets when she feels she is being the sane one in the situation. On the other hand, she actually clapped her hands and hopped up and down when it was time to help with laundry this afternoon and was sorely disappointed that there was only one load to hang on the line, so the crazy is pretty well established as genetic fact. Sorry kiddo, one day you too will regale your friends with stories about your laundry adventures. Luckily, if they are anything like mine, they won't mind.