Saturday, August 30, 2008
But I have a hankerin'. I get them every once-in-a-while. They feel...decadent. I feel the desire to make some jewelry. I get these ideas of things to make, they just pop into my head, I get the feeling, I buy supplies/tools/organizers/whatever, then....it goes away. Oh I jot the idea down in my sketchbook, but I never seem to get around to the MAKING part of jewelrymaking! Seems I get caught up in the supplies, tools and organizers and forget about the best part. Could it be possible that I love jewelry supplies more than the actual making part? I will admit to having a short attention span, so it could be. Maybe it's enough for me that I had the idea, it's done. Nope. I really would like to make something.
I bought a new organizer today (don't laugh Hubby Nugget! It's the best organizer, better than all the rest!!!!!), and the latest copy of Art Jewelry magazine, and I am motivated to make jewelry again. I have some ideas rolling around in my head. And I pledge to you, dear reader(s), I will make some jewelry this weekend, with God as my witness, I will make some jewelry this weekend!!!!
If I don't, you are free to mock me mercilessly.
All for now,
Sunday, August 17, 2008
It all started when by some freakish coincidence my large mammaries busted out of the only two bras that I own in the current post-baby size. Not wanting to roam free, the girls needed to be housed. Little Nugget and I headed over to Satan's House of Cheap Brassieres to procure a containment apparatus, but alas, selection was bleak. To make matters worse, Little Nugget was playing her favorite game, "pull everything off the rack and chew on the tags" It was distracting to say the least. So they may have had what I wanted, but I was somewhat distracted. Anyway. So I decided to head over to my FAVorite store with a red bulls eye logo later in the evening when Hubby Nugget could watch the Babygirl and I could peacefully peruse the undergarment section without having to re-shelve everything.
So Hubby Nugget gets home from work, and I tell him my plan, to which he says, "Let's have a family outing!" I'm guessing that only Team Nugget would plan a family outing around bra shopping, but we needed Triple-sec to make a Sidecar later in the evening (Sidecar = brandy + triple sec or cointreau + lime juice = yum!). Bras and Booze--it was the making of an adventure!
Post-Nugget nap, we headed out to dinner. Food was tasty, and we were mildly amused by the blowhard at the next table who dominated not only that conversation, but all others around him what with his volume and know-it-all-ness. We had a secret weapon, though--a very loud toddler by the name of Sweet Babygirl, who punctuated his conversation with raucous outbursts of "FIVE!" "NINE!" "NINETY-NINE, NINE, NINE!" We apologized, but we weren't very sincere about it.
Next stop, bra-central. Traffic was horrible, though, and people were driving in these horrible clusters, continuously slamming on their brakes. Hubby Nugget saw his spot, and stealthily managed to pass the traffic by escaping to the left lane. Then we saw the policeman. Oops. We were doing 74 in a 65. Little Nugget was highly amused in the back seat, just sat there giggling and looking at the pretty lights. Hubby Nugget was not amused. I thought crappidy-crap-crap that's gonna be an expensive bra now. So after a few minutes, the officer brings back Hubby Nugget's drivers license and tells us to slow down. OMG he let us go with a warning!!!!!!!
We get to Target and we're practically jumping up and down in the parking lot!!! Bra and booze were acquired and I scouted some sweet new fall clothes for the Monkey (will wait for a little sale, otherwise known as discount stalking). Once home, all was well.
All for now,
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Imagine if you will, a crazy scenario in which I have elected to make the cake for my own wedding. It was a wee cake, but stressful nonetheless as it would be photographed by all who were to attend. Being the OCD kind of gal I am, I made several cakes so just in case I screwed up the fondant, I would have a backup. (Note to self: you can't really screw up fondant, it's a force to be reckoned with.) So on the fateful cake assembly day, I pull the ziplock-ensconced cakes out of the fridge and put them on the counter to acclimate. They're pretty tall counters so I think nothing of it, I know that our scavenger dog, Stinkbug, can't get to them as he has legs that are only like 3 inches long (hence the Napoleon syndrome and his bad attitude). I go to the store and pick up more tulle or some other wedding nonsense, then come back to begin the frightening task at hand. Except I walk in, and there are cake crumbs all over the floor. So after I come to, I realize that my sweet, quiet, layed-back old dog ate the wedding cake!!!!! After all, he does have dog-sized limbs and could easily snatch the ziplocks off the counter. Luckily he left one package, so we had our wee wedding cake.
So when I got pregnant, Jacksoncup was by my side constantly. Like I said, he's a sweet boy. He always checked on me when I didn't feel well, and would lay beside me when I was crashed out on the couch from carrying the big load that was the Little Nugget. I never had a doubt that Jackson would do well with the baby, and he has proven me right.
I thought he would take care of her like he does me, but he keeps a little distance from the whirling dervish that is the Babygirl. I'm sure this is because of his age: we found out not too long ago that he has bone spurs on his spine and arthritis in his hips, poor guy. But that doesn't keep him from doing the occasional happy wiggle out in the yard. He loves the sun!
All for now,
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Hormones can be a bitch, you know? Who'd of thought they could screw with your sleep patterns in such an insidious manner. I sleep good for about 3 hours, then BOOM! I wake up about every hour after that. I didn't even hear my alarm screech in my ear this morning. What's worse is I think I turned it off while I was still asleep. My poor dream journal is pretty bare right now since I'm not sleeping deep enough to even have any freaky-assed dreams.
For those of you who are concerned that my entry into old-agedness will effect the chances of having another nugget, rest assured we are done. We got a good one, and we're happy with that. Plus she's a handful. In a good way.
Do they make coffee flavored soy?
All for now,
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
It cracks me up EVERY time! I giggle like a 13 year old boy and get all Beavis: "Huh, Huh, Huh...he said 'nut sack!'" I can't help it.
Apparently I'm not the only one, I saw the commercial again yesterday, and now it's just a snack. So sad...but a BRILLIANT bit of advertising, eh? Sure did catch my attention!
All for now,
Sunday, August 3, 2008
This is a snappy of Little Nugget watching her FAVorite show, the Price is Right. She love, love, LOVES Drew Carey. I can always count on a little quiet time when PiR is on. Well, except for the screaming and running around waving her arms when people 1)come on down, 2) win their showcase, 3) spin the wheel, or when 4) there is a close up of Drew Carey. The girl loves her show. (Note: Monkey does not indulge in a steady diet of crap TV, being the geeks that we are, she mostly gets the Science Channel, NatGeo, or cable news. And she's not a big fan of Sesame Street for some reason, but LOVES Elmo, of course. I'd be worried if she didn't like Elmo--isn't there some kind of tot law that she has to be into Elmo?)
Somewhere down the line Little Nugget developed a taste for dill pickles, much to our surprise. But she has pretty discerning tastes anyway. Her favorite snack is broccoli--she didn't get that from me, fo-sho. At a recent family get-together, she chose cantaloupe over home-made ice cream (as did Hubby Nugget). Freaks.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Well let me tell you, people, our girl has turned into a little Paris Hilton. She has glommed onto "That's Hot!" like stink on a monkey. We actually taught her that phrase to let her know not to touch hot stuff. But apparently she's caught on to our multiple usage of the word "hot". Last night she said to me, and I shit you not:
"I pee-pee! That's Hot!"
God help us.
All for now,