Snooty Hooty

We made a new addition to our burgeoning owl family over the weekend, and it wasn't entirely my fault.

Mostly, but not entirely.

I had dragged Handsome into Pier One to show him some really swell, wicker, clearance priced rocking chairs that I thought ROCKED. He took one look and gave them the big, old, thumbs-down-raspberry in seconds flat. What is it about men and wicker? Or rather, men and their zero-tolerance for wicker?

So sad.

Here I had been pining for those rockers for days, imagining them on our balcony and myself flopped into one with a good book - pausing only to sigh deeply, soak in the scenery, and then beginning to gracefully rock, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, once again.

But alas, that will never be (in wicker) and the hunt for deep and perfectly balanced rocking chairs continues. Let me know if you have any hot tips for finding two beauties.

Still, we did not leave the store empty handed. 

I had seen this guy the day I had brought home our owl salt and pepper shakers, but using restraint ... and tears ... and the gnashing of teeth, I left him behind. Poor little owl - he just wanted a good home, and I left him!

Still feeling guilty about our last parting, I introduced him to Handsome after the wicker rocking chair debacle.

It is a funny thing about collecting owls. For whatever reason, maybe it is their whimsy? Their coloring? Something about them makes both Handsome and me think of our grandmothers. Did everyone's grandma collect something like this? I wonder. But don't you think that there is something about this sort of thing that is familiar and comforting and makes everything feel more homey?

Me too. Kinda like a good rocking chair.

And each one of these new characters seems to have a personality and charm all their own.

I don't know his name yet, and so far, he is not telling.

I can't decide if his expression is snooty or sleepy.

Snooty sounds more like hoot-hoot-hooty - which is what one should expect from an owl, so I suppose that must be it.

But then, he will never make friends being all snooty like that.

Still, kinda cute isn't he? Awfully shiny. I wonder how often I will have to dust him? Eesh.

The funny thing about introducing new members into the family is that it is sometimes a bit difficult for the older members to adjust.

Can you see the owl salt and pepper shakers over there on the far right?
That is how they were standing when I came into the kitchen this morning.

A very sort of "talk to the tail-feathers" sort of an attitude, don't you think?

Ehm, guys?

Hey, Feathers!

There was some mumbling, I think. I didn't really catch what they were saying until...

Their eyeballs said, "We've just been reading over this very interesting recipe, really!"

Maybe they really were reading over a recipe, but it looked like a case of the cold shoulder to me.

As far as I know, they still have not said one civil word to the new guy.

Sweet Onesie Victory

I promised to give you a follow up on the baby shower I attended on Saturday, and let me tell you, that morning of the pending onesie competition (see Onesie Adventure for details) was tense. I sat in my car, eyeballing the home where the shower was to take place. A cute, BABY SHOWER sign in the front yard gave the party's location away ... that and a clothesline where the other competing onesies were already hung and gently swaying in the breeze made double checking the address and house number completely pointless.

Intimidating might not be the word you think of when you see a front patio full of breeze-swaying onesies, but there was a time when a good glimpse of just one, measly, lone onesie could have thrown me into a panic... or at least a slight depression.

I took a deep breath and gave the onesie I had brought a sideways glace. I looked at the "Nocturnal Owl" and he looked at me. We both  knew that we would be up against some pretty tough nuts in the onesie competition. After all, darling, precious and sweet in tiny sizes are really hard to beat, and the nocturnal owl, I am sorry to say, more-or-less fell into the funky, unique, different, "well now, aren't you interesting?" category. A risky bet. An unreliable wager at best. There was an outside chance we would win, but a better chance that we would be laughed out of the baby shower ring.

Before approaching the clothesline, I gave the onesie a good talking to and a shake, "Now listen here. You showed up and that is most of the battle won. Smile and try to sparkle ... be winning, I mean. You won't know the other onesies, but that is okay because they will most likely be nervous too. Just be yourself."

I anxiously turned my onesie over to the girl with the clothes pins, and she hung it to the spot where later, it would be judged by the mama-to-be. I turned and walked into the party - leaving it there -  feeling abandoned, self-aware, slightly off-center, extremely large and yellow. I'll let you work out which of us felt that way.

I wish that I had taken a picture of the owl hanging with the other adorable onesies, but this is it. I just took the one, lame picture you see above for the previous posting. I hadn't even done anything about the wrinkles yet.

It really is such a bummer you didn't get to see it bravely hanging on that competition line because although it was odd, and a little out of place, it won!

When it came time for the competition, the mama-to-be passed slowly up and down the line, carefully observing each onesie offering.

Between you and me, I think she felt a little uncomfortable picking a favorite at all. She seemed to be afraid of hurting her guests' feelings, but in the end, she stopped in front of our onesie (I call it *ours* because you have stayed with me throughout this adventure), and she chose it as her favorite!

It probably helped that I had tossed it into the "Wrinkle-Rid" cycle before the party.

Maybe the mama-to-be was just desperate to get the picking over with and ours was the largest at hand? Maybe she picked it because it was just so terribly odd and therefore eye-catching in its own way? I am not sure, but she picked ours none-the-less!

We won!

The shower experience was good overall and I am glad that I went. Although I did not know anyone other than the pending mama, the other guests were very friendly, and I didn't really feel too sorry for myself until the lady sitting next to me started nursing her two-month-old.  Just about the time I thought I might start thinking up excuses for leaving early, the woman seated on my other side, pointed to a woman across the room and whispered, "She has two young sons, but her husband walked out on them."

I don't think that she meant to gossip, she was just chatty - maybe a little nervous too? But her tidbit of information stopped my self-pity in its tracks. I was stunned. The lovely woman across the room probably did not want my sympathy. Truth be known, she probably did not want me to know her story at all, but my heart broke for her - for her sons.

It does not seem fair that on one hand, a girl who cannot seem to have children would have a perfectly wonderful husband who could make a really swell father, while on the other hand, here is this other woman who has sons, who needs a father, but has zilch. Not fair, right? For a really crazy moment I thought, "She needs my Handsome." And then, I took that rotten thought back and put a big, black X across the idea. No way I am trading him away for no-one, no-how, no-way!

I felt quite suddenly very thankful to have things just the way things are. Content to be happily married - even without children. I had been afraid to attend the shower for fear of increasing discontent and self-pity. Instead, I raced home to my husband with feelings of relief and joy.

I hope that I do not sound insensitive to the other woman's situation. Nor do I mean to congratulate myself on having a decent husband either. I just mean I am just so thankful that God is the One who decides -that He knows- our sorrows and burdens. I do not know the woman, but my guess is that at this point she would not trade her sons for a happy marriage.

What I mostly mean to say is that Saturday makes one baby shower down. Mark it with contentment rather than sorrow, and truly, that is a victory.

Now, anyone know any good, available men?

Learning To Share

 The more you give,

the more you get-

The more you laugh, 

the less you fret-

The more of everything

you share,

The more you'll always

have to spare-

The more you love,

the more you'll find 

That life is good

and friends are kind.

For only what

we give away, 

Enriches us

from day to day.

        ~by Helen Steiner Rice

^"6Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously. ⁷Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. ⁸And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work."  2 Corinthians 9:6-8

I received Helen Steiner Rice's little devotional book as a high school graduation gift. I think that I might have a fairly good idea of who gave it to me, but I suppose that I might be remembering it all wrong, so I won't try to say who it was here. Still, whoever the gift-er was, they were brilliant - insightful - thoughtful - genius. To have thought to give such a book to a young girl was absolutely inspired because even though several years have passed, I just love and am still affected by it. 

The trouble with me is that by now (like I said, SEVERAL years have passed since graduation) you would think that I should have a handle on, and be well-practiced at, the little lessons arranged in the book.  

Selfless giving and how it works should be familiar to me to the point of boredom, right? But, oh no, not me. The joy of giving and sharing sneaks up on me every time. That I should be surprised or amazed at this little poem's profundity is really quite shameful, but truly, this afternoon, after I read the passage, slapped my forehead, blinked hard, read it again, and uttered an amazed, "Ohhh!" As in, EUREKA! Discovery!

It happened like that today - I mean, the whole giving thing. I gave a little -I mean a tiny, teeny, itty-bitty, little, smaller than small bit,  folks-  not even enough to consider, and the immediate blessing was absolutely joyous. The whole experience was thrilling really.

I do not know what to say except that God is good. He is faithful even when I am not. 

I am so glad that He loves the cheerful giver... and also the dunce who may never graduate from Giving 101.

Happy Autumn

How I LOVE harvest time! Don't you? Of course, it's supposed to be upwards of a hundred degrees here in the L.A. area over the weekend, but that is okay. We are just not gonna dwell on the rotten heat too much because Fall is finally here!

Time to dig out your scarves and boots, to tromp through pumpkin patches, to start listening for the crunch of leaves under your feet, to wrap up in something soft and sherpa-lined, to pour a cup of something warm and freshly brewed, and then add cream... lots of cream.

"Don't you love New York in the fall? 

It makes me wanna buy school supplies. 

I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils 
if I knew your name and address. 

On the other hand, this not knowing has its charms." 

- Joe Fox (Tom Hanks), You've Got Mail  

One of the best chick-flicks ever, right? I always get a hankering to watch it again and again around this time of year. It is such a sweet love story, and then, the art/design direction of the whole movie gives the audience such a strong sense of the seasons and an idealistic passage of time. I get swept away, and I can almost smell the newly sharpened pencils, can't you? And when Kathleen decides to hang more twinkle lights, don't you just want to join her?

Living in Southern California certainly has its perks - the beach, the sand, the sun, etc., but owing to the fact that we do not experience drastic seasonal changes, it is sometimes a bit hard to mark the passage of time. I mean, most of us Californians wear flip-flops year round and it is a beautiful thing, but the months do sometimes manage to slip by quite quickly and without a sound. It is a very unsettling thing to wake up one morning to find that you have misplaced half the year and didn't notice it pass.

All that to say, it is a new day - a fresh season, and I have decided to redouble my efforts here at home in order to help us mark the passage of time. How? By decorating according to the season, of course. Maybe this will help give us some visual cues, what do you think?

The tricky thing is that ...well, I don't want to start collecting junk. You know, no polyester windsocks or seasonal pillows or anything like that ... or, well, maybe just one or two. 

Junk is so subjective, isn't it? 

Anyway, I may have already got a good start on it. Here is where I have begun...

Aren't they cute? Aren't they fitting for Fall? I purchased the pair of them at Pier One for only $5 bucks -- Hurry! Hurry! Go get some!

Hoot! Hoot! Please take us home with you! Hoot!

Chubby chubby - I am loving them up, these chubby owls!

This adorable plate must have heard about the party and showed up at my door a few days ago. Actually, if I had but one wish for you, I would wish that you had a lovely, generous neighbor too.

And then these dears swooped in by way of my mama.

Oh my, oh dear! I do believe that all of the sudden, I am collecting something!

Problem - I just love these little hoots so much, they are gonna be sitting in my kitchen forever regardless of the season.

So much for the passage of time - starting today, I do hereby declare, it is going to be Fall at our house year round - Yay!

I know, I know. I hear you. I will be maybe probably sorta ready for Spring by the time it rolls around too - maybe, I suppose.

But, for today, let's wallow in the bounty and smells and chill of harvest time.

In fact, let's meet up at the pumpkin patch! After all, making memories with friends is an even better way to mark the passage of time, don't you think so too?

Happy Fall!

Costco Coupons

I have been on a bar stool hunt since January.

Bar stools are tough though, aren't they? I mean, they can be really pricey, and finding one with a comfy seat is nigh to impossible.

I began to despair of ever finding a decent set ... seat ... set of seats.

And then, Lo! The Costco coupon packet arrived:

"Announcing! 

Your dear, ol', neighborhood, warehouse store 

has bar stools in stock this month! 

And on the cheap!"

I loaded up and buzzed off to Costco ... in the MINI.

But, alas, I arrived too late. All sold out. Shucks!

So, not in stock after all, hey? They really should have hung a sign on the door or something. I wandered the giant aisles for hours calling to my chairs.

Not really. I knew going in that there was always the chance of finding a big, fat, flat or shelf or something of nothingness where the stools should have been. Costco is like that - if you find something you like, you gotta pounce fast and quick and in person. 

Still, it was all for the best, I suppose, because returning two days later with a rain check PLUS my sweet neighbor, we found two bar stools waiting, wrestled the big boxes into carts, steered carefully through the masses a.k.a. Costco crowds, heaved and shoved my purchase into her SUV and brought them home. Where I clasped my hands with girlish glee and delight.

These boxes never would have fit into the MINI, by the way. So, to my friend and neighbor, you know who you are, thank you. This kind of purchase is always so much more fun to make with a friend.

Now that they are home, they'll go here. Like this...

Just gotta build 'em.

All the parts and pieces, boxes and wrapping... kinda feels like Christmas.

Nearly there! 

Building a chair!

(And they say I'm not a poet?)

One day, I might be able to afford furniture that does not come in a box complete with an Allen wrench and a set of instructions.

But, I ask you, where will the sense of accomplishment be in that?

Whatcha got going? He seemed curious, but didn't offer to help.

Ta-da!

Belly up to the bar, folks!

Truly, these seats are here for you. Come sit. We will chatter and sip Ginger Beer.

"Ginger Beer!? Ginger Beer!?" - Name that movie...

If you haven't yet seen Nanny McPhee Returns, hang on, I will grab my hat and we will go together.

It is the best movie I seen since, well, since Nanny McPhee's first adventure.

Funny, now that I really think about it, I wish I was the kind of girl who wore hats to the theater... or at least flowery barrettes. The kind they sell on Etsy.

"Let me grab my flowery barrette and we will go!"

No, that doesn't really work for me either.

Still, please come for a visit soon, have a squishy, comfy seat at my kitchen bar, and we will discuss happy things like coupons, neighbors who turn into friends, pets snoozing in the sunshine, recent successes, sugary sodas, hair accessories, and good movies.

Handmade Towel

 This is my favorite picture from the summer.

My sister had just pulled her baby out of the pool. Not a real pool, but one of those inflatable, two to three feet deep, splash-around-and-just-get-soggy sort of pools. The kind of pool that kids hop in and out of in-between drying pruney toes in the sun, eating popsicles, and forgetting to close screen doors behind them when they run back into the house for whatever strikes their fancy.

That was the kind of perfect, summer day we were having when this picture was taken.

Can you tell from the picture that is a puppy towel? Probably not, I suppose. Nana made towels with our names on them when we were little, and now for the great-grandchildren, she has taken to adding floppy ears and puppy schnozzes to the corners for extra cuteness. Not that the baby in this picture needs any extra cute -- he is so adorable he makes my heart ache.

I love this picture for lots of reasons, but mostly because my sister looks so happy holding her baby, and because ... look at her closely ... can you tell? She is pregnant again. The pregnancy mask is written all over her face. She had just found out that she was pregnant shortly before this picture was taken, but I knew way way way before the tests confirmed anything. Isn't she beautiful?

This time next year, there will be a another baby and another handmade towel.

I can't wait!

Painting

My sister came into town for a visit a couple of weeks ago, and we decided that it was high time to put some paint on these white walls.

White, white, white. Everywhere ya look, new-construction white.

Well, almost everywhere. It is white everywhere except for the smudged spots and in the not-so-settling, so-called "settling cracks." I hate the settling cracks. They make me very nervous. They make my palms sweat.

Our neighbors have cracks so big that they have named them. Seriously. Poor construction? Bad materials? Poor soil? We live on a fault line? Ehm, yes. Probably, I'm guessing "yes" is the answer to all of it. Even as I am telling you about these cracks, my heart is racing and my head is throbbing.

But, *sigh* and fiddle-dee-dee, what can I do? This is the home the good Lord gave me, and last night, I painfully thanked Him for the cracks too. 

Anyhoo, back to the painting.

After hours and hours and hours of paint chip searching and comparing at Lowe's, my sister and I sat down in the patio furniture department and read a Soup & Stews magazine cover to cover. We got really hungry, bought the magazine, and came home without paint.

We had a pretty decent paint chip collection started though.

Anybody else have a really hard time picking paint colors? We hand-picked and deliberated over each and every one of these.

Experts say that you are suppose to consider your paint colors at different times of day and in different lighting. So we did that.

Evening light.

 Daylight.

Natural light. Lights on. Lights off. Help!

That's supposed to make it easier?

Pretty much just increases my confusion.

The paint color picking hours one day turned into hours a second and a third day, and then, all those days turned into lots of days. We taped just about every one of those chips, one-at-a-time, to a wall and stared at 'em. Moved 'em to another wall and stared at 'em some more. I just could not decide which color should go where.

My sister stayed for a week, and then she left. She left me with a pile of paint chips and a "You're on your own. I'm outta here." This also made my palms sweat and my head pound.

I can't say that I blame her. We were getting no where, and her two-year-old was seriously starting to loose his patience.


I carried on as best I could, but truly, I was beaten. Beaten by my own indecision.


That is when Handsome stepped in and picked a color. That's right, he just picked. In about five minutes flat, he just said, "Go with that one."

Not for the whole house, mind you. He decided that we should just focus on one, contained room - the guest room - and paint it.

Barley. He picked Barley.

How could he be sure? I am not sure. I wasn't sure, but I was tired... so tired of staring at the walls.


So, here is the guest bedroom before...

And this is after...

What do you think?

Three things I've learned:

One - My sister, nephew and my husband all really love me. (Thank you for your patience, you wonderful yous)
Two - I might make decision making a teeny bit harder than it has to be.
Three - I like Barley.

Oh, also, those edging/painter/gadget-y thingys don't work.

AND - this magazine is full of yummy recipes! If you find a copy, snatch it up, and we will make soup together when the weather turns cold and blustery.

Onesie Adventure

Wednesday evening Handsome and I had a little adventure. But, in order to tell you all about that, first I have to tell you this...


















Next weekend, I am going to a baby shower. I don't often attend baby showers because ... well, because for a girl who can't have a baby of her own, showers are a bit too much like torture. You know, like ripping out your heart and crushing it and twisting it and wringing it and squishing it really hard and then swallowing it again where it sticks like a big lump in your throat while other girls giggle over tiny shoes and handmade blankets. It hurts, and it is not fun. So, in the past, in the name of self-preservation, I have skipped out on a few.

BUT, I have been realizing lately, there is a problem with skipping. Although it might seem smart to protect oneself from heart-wringing situations, I have regularly and purposefully missed some really special occasions with friends. I have missed being a part of something important to them. I am ashamed to say that I skipped thinking mostly of myself. Sadly, too, in the long run, my self-centered hasn't done me any good either. In fact, I end up mourning the loss of two things. One, no babies of my own, and two, fewer precious celebrations with friends. The second being a completely self-inflicted loss, and what is the point of that? So, all that to say, I have decided to make a little change, and I am gonna try to live outside myself just a little next Saturday and attend a baby shower.

RSVP affirmative!

The Onesie Adventure Begins!

Now, at this particular baby shower there is going to be a "cutest onesie contest." Maybe this is something that has been going on for years in the baby shower circuit, and I have just been out of the loop? I am not sure, but please bear with me if this is old-hat to you. All the guests are supposed to bring a onesie, handmade or store-bought (but extra special either way), hang it on a clothes-line, and whichever onesie the mommy-to-be likes best, wins! So sweet and fun!

Eager to jump back into the baby shower arena and WIN, I scoured Etsy for an especially cute onesie, gave the seller my address, and placed my order with confidence - I am so gonna win this contest! Completely refocusing my baby shower angst onto the contest? Yah, maybe just a little. Still, I strutted over my clever plan until - DISASTER! It struck me like a thunderbolt two days AFTER the seller had shipped the onesie ... I had given the seller my current address but paid with Paypal! Dern it all, didn't Paypal still have our old address in its brain? Drat! It did! And following the money, the seller sent the onesie to our old address. Nerds!

Still, I was able to track the package online, and knew, therefore, exactly when it would be delivered to our old apartment. Of course, dumb me, I didn't actually check to see that the package had been delivered until 9 p.m. Wednesday night. Let me tell you, nine o'clock is bedtime around here, folks. I was pulling on my jammies, grrring at myself for forgetting to edit that old address, cursing Paypal, making snarky comments about the postal system, wondering how in the world I was gonna get that onesie, when it struck me - IDEA!

"HANDSOME, I HAVE AN IDEA!!! Let's go see if the package is on the doorstep of our old place! Or knock on the door and say, 'Hand it over! And no one gets hurt!' Or something like that."

Crazily enough, he agreed, we hopped into the car and jetted 25 miles south towards the heart of Los Angeles.

When we arrived at the old apartment-stead, I sorta realized that if the package addressed to me wasn't on the doorstep, it was gonna take some fairly sweet-faced, I'm not crazy, please let me see your pile of mail convincing to assure whoever answered the door that it would be safe to hand over the goods.

Well, the onesie package was not on the doorstep, and I had to knock ... and guess what? The person on the other side of the door did NOT open it all the way ... at first. But, never fear, I brought him around with the above mentioned really, I'm not crazy sort of friendliness (that is to say, I talked as fast as I possibly could to explain the situation which probably, in hindsight, only convinced the poor guy that I am crackers - after all, who goes on late night onesie chases?), and I got my onesie!

Now, you are probably wondering, "that's it? that's the story?" Well, see, here is the thing that was so funny. As it turns out, the guy who moved into our old place is an artist for Disney, he just moved into town (there was a note from his mom and dad on the fridge that said, "we love you - mom and dad" - how sweet is that?!), and his name is Ryan William Something-or-'nother. Didn't quite get his last name because I was so shocked by his first and middle. He was happy to give me the onesie and a few other pieces of mail addressed to my Ryan, eh-hem, Handsome. Isn't it so strange that someone with such a similar name, working in the same industry, lives in our old place? I thought so too! 

But the real Real REAL reason that I tell you this entire story from top to bottom is to tell you what occurred to me as I stood in that old apartment's entryway. THAT PLACE IS TINY! TEE-NINEY! I could not believe that I hadn't remembered it better. No wonder our new home felt so big when we first moved in. That evening it struck me all over again just how good God has been to us. He has given us such a wonderful home! And much much more and I'm so thankful.

You know, I loved that apartment when we lived there, but that night of the onesie adventure, the complex had been awfully noisy (and I had remembered it being quiet compared to other places we had lived), lights were blasting-bright everywhere, traffic rushed by at 10:30 p.m., and the apartment wasn't as big as a minute. I think it was really really good for me to be reminded of all the wonderful blessings wrapped up in my home ... the ones that I am terribly sorry to say that I have been taking for granted - already.

If I hadn't decided to go to the baby shower, I wouldn't have ordered the onesie, if I hadn't have ordered the onesie, we wouldn't have knocked on our old apartment door, and if we wouldn't have knocked, I wouldn't have seen our old place, and if I hadn't seen, then now, I wouldn't have a heart so overwhelmed by God's goodness.

When at the baby shower next week, I may not have everything I want, but I am convinced that I have no reason to be crushed. In fact, He has already given me more than I deserve or could wish for - it's a good time to be reminded of that.

So, that is onesie adventure - thus far - and it seems to me that big things can come from little changes. I'll let you know how the shower goes.

*Note to selves... go update your Paypal address if needed.