Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Pillow Par

I have pillow fever!

All the tips and tricks I've heard around the blogosphere repeat that pillows are excellent ways to 1) add color, 2) change things cheaply, 3)tie the room together ("It really tied the room together, man"). Cheap? Have they met my budget? Sorry, but $40 for a case (not even the pillow!) is a little eensy bit out of my price range.

The flip side is, buying fabric (and pillow forms) aren't that much cheaper. womp womp

BUT. If you buy fabric long enough ago that you don't remember how much it was and your husband doesn't remember you buying it THEN it's basically free! Right?!

I bought a few fat quarters from the local fabric store (support local!) and sat down to sew my little heart out. I loved this fabric- the little yellow anchors just made me smile- but it was hard to turn down the purple/beige animal print too. They were both so small that I wasn't crazy about putting them together. But, I'm young and I live on the dangerous side- so if I didn't put them on the same side together, I thought it might work.
I think it did.

I am loving the trend of having some sort of graphic on your pillow, and I feel that I'm pretty well-versed in painting fabric. Over time, though, paint cracks, fades, peels, transfers, etc. And I didn't want that on a pillow. So I tried a little simple applique.
Using some felt I had inherited (thanks Grandma!), I free-handed a little Ripley silhouette. It was the right color, she has the cutest head and I'm just a little smitten with my fur baby. I cut the felt out and laid it on right side of one of my fabrics- just an arbitrary choice at this point. I pinned and sewed the tiniest seam I could possibly make, ensuring the needle was inserted in the fabric each time I had to make a corner. It was much slower going than making a straight seam, but in the end I think it was worth it. The felt only puckered a little bit, but it wasn't necessarily a wrinkle, thus I thought it was worth the hassle.
I faced the two fabric pieces, right side to right side, and pinned along three sides, then sewed a 1/4" seam to allow for some wiggle room. Once I turned the case right-side out, and inserted the pillow form I had, I manually sewed the last side together because I have a lot of embroidery thread, I don't like zippers and I make a mean small stitch. Good enough for my couch!

I was so pleased with my Ripley pillow that I carried it through the house, to the bedroom. Our new duvet cover is fairly blocky and geometrical and our throw pillows are slightly floral. So I needed something with the right colors with some sort of pattern between them, ideally with a personal flair. I've had this gray fabric for a while and though it's slightly floral, it's pretty faint so I figured Mr. E wouldn't have a problem with it. 

I executed the same idea as the felt Ripley silhouette- I traced the outline of the state of California in white, then cut a small green heart and pinned and sewed it on Southern California. Both Mr. E and I love Southern California: We met in La Jolla, had adventures all over San Diego, have family in San Marcos, Oceanside and Ramona, live in Orange, will move to LA, etc etc. It was just the perfect tribute, no matter where we may have to move to.
Again, I hand-sewed the last side of the pillow, once the form was in and all. The next pillows I do I'll have to insert a zipper, just to shake it up a little bit!

Link up! Wow us Wednesdays, Wow Me Wednesday, What We Accomplished Wednesday , What I Whipped Up Wednesday, Whatever Goes Wednesday, Inspire Me Tuesday

Monday, April 29, 2013

Why Do I Do It?

Why do I craft?
Why do I sew? Why do I paint? Why do I decorate?

Because I know full well that when we have kids I will NOT HAVE TIME. And this scares me, a little bit. It's the apprehensive fear. The slow, creeping stalk of inevitability. I will have kids and they will consume my very existence. I can't wait to immerse myself in little toes and wet kisses and bath-time giggles, but I'm also terrified that they will take every ounce of me. Of who I am, of what I want and how I do the things I love to do. Is this silly? Sure. Ideas of "who I am" and "what I want" will most assuredly shift. 

These things may change, but the apprehension still remains.

I have a love/hate relationship with kids. Sound dramatic? In eighth grade I wrote a paper about raising kids, but instead of referring to them as "he" or "she" I thought I would be incredibly clever and call them "it". Because I would never have them, therefore I wouldn't even deign to call them by a pronoun. In high school I briefly entertained the idea of having children- in a theoretical, far-away-futuristic sort of way. It wasn't tangible, I didn't worry about it and I certainly didn't think about it in any real time frame. Then I babysat four hellions next door (for VERY good money) and re-evaluated. Kids were much further away than I initially thought.
I think some of my ambivalence towards tiny tots comes from the advice of my mother- one of the strongest and smartest women I know. She raised me much younger than other mothers. At a time when girls her age were taking high school exit exams, she was battling morning sickness, overcoming the fear and prejudice against teen mothers and endeavoring to give me the best start she could. She did it because she had to, because she wanted to, because she's amazing. But she told me she would never wish that struggle upon me because she worked so hard to alleviate any short-comings I may have faced due to her decisions. So I was raised with the firm belief that kids should come later. Plan your life. Live your life. Enjoy what you have and then add kids, because, while not easy it will likely be easier. So kids were never something I immediately looked forward to.

Marrying Mr. E didn't change my outlook, but suddenly I was surrounded by kids. Nieces, nephews, cousins. Well-behaved, whiny, independent, feisty, quiet, all of them adorable. You marry the family, not just the man. I inherited 12+ kids in my life, all under 12. I can barely remember when my OWN siblings were that age, much less as babies. Children became a shockingly close and intimate thought. Would my children look like this? Behave like this? Will they be shy or outspoken? Will they cry or be clingy? I was thinking of my own kids (all unborn) as quickly-becoming-realities. They were real. They were thought-provoking. And on some glacially inching level, they were coming.
"Five years" we told everyone. We want time to enjoy each other's company. We want time to spend with each other, blissfully alone and together after four years of dating "long-distance". We want to connect and come together in ways that only those selfish lovebirds can. Five years. The more we thought about it, five years became....five years again. And again.

The times we softened, holding a newborn, snuggling with toddlers, listening to "I can write my name"s and "I can count to 100"s. Then I'd think about the pregnancies I'd witnessed and envision (as only a never-pregnant woman can) the pains of labor and shudder and think "Not yet. I'm not ready. We're not ready."
But it's there. It's always there. It's like a weight hanging over me, a slight pressure on the back of my mind. Work now, before you have kids. Go out now, before children. Have single friends and parties and breakables at knee level before sticky fingers and lovely coos and crying tired eyes.

So I create, to alleviate that pressure. I sew, because it takes my mind off of it. I paint because I still have the creative capacity (and the energy) to do so. I read for the sheer pleasure of turning pages. This is my time for me, without expectations, without anticipation, without lovely little distractions. I am not a mother, but I need time to myself to grow, to learn, to experience precisely because I will be a mother. But more than that, because I want to use that time to find myself, all by myself, after the hustle and the bustle. I want to be a better version of ME. 

In all honesty, I create because I work at an incredibly left-brain job, I graduated from a college with a reputation for being stuffy and research-y and for a long time I felt very at-odds with my "old-fashioned" creativity. How many microbiology majors crochet and dream of picking up knitting needles? How many mathematicians would rather spend afternoons painting sweet nothings for their spouses? What clinical scientists take weekends to make shirts and pajamas and duvets? 

I had (erm, still have) a very hard time allowing myself to be both of these things: the scientist and the artist. I felt self-conscious that one would ruin the other- like I couldn't really be a scientist if I read chick-lit or romance novels and I couldn't very well like learning about microorganisms when I'm trying to learn the ukelele, now could I? 

But I can. Because that's me. All of this is me. I am intelligent and studied enough to discuss growth stages of bacteria, I can troubleshoot a medical device reprocessor but I can also bake my little heart out and I enjoy craft projects with kids. I am mercurial, multi-faceted and adaptable. 

I like to think that my creativity now will pay off in the long run. That all of my blog-following and Pinterest-inspired endeavors will pass down to my kids. Not only that, I hope I instill a sense of wonder and curiosity in my babes-to-be. I want them to ask why and what for, to figure it out because they can, because they want to. I want them to love painting and scissors and reading out loud but also looking through microscopes, and learning about tiny creatures in our ecosystem, just like their mom. So I craft to stay relevant. I craft to release my worries. I craft to enjoy time to myself. I craft for my kids, who, someday, will enjoy every minute of it.

Link Up! Titus Tuesday, Not Just a Housewife

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Friend #fiveminutefriday

Write. For five minutes straight. One-word prompt, five minutes, no editing. I'm linking up over at Lisa-Jo Baker (aka The Gypsy Mama) where we read, write and encourage.

Five Minute Friday

How do I write this?

How do I say the things I want to say? My mind is full of words, of feelings, of hurt and hope and happiness. But there's an awful lot of room there, too.

My friends are carefully chosen, perfectly imperfect people I need in my life. If you're reading this, you must be one of them. 

I've grown up moving around an awful lot- 12 homes in 24 years. So friend-making wasn't a strong skill. While some kids may have jumped at the chance to have friends all over the world courtesy of the Navy, I think I got more introverted. I focused inward, not outward. As a kid, that can be difficult. To relate better to the adults in your life than your peers. To know that any friends you made could have orders across the world in a month.

This isn't a sob story. I think it used to be, but I don't want that anymore. I have met some amazing people in the last decade. I've laughed and cried, been hurt, been ignored, been cherished, been uplifted by them all in one way or another. 

I think for a long time the hurts I felt from friendship long outweighed the happy. But in growing up, and in growing out, I think I've tipped that balance. Or maybe you've tipped that balance. Thank goodness, because if friends are family you choose, I've chosen the best for me. 

Wednesday, April 24, 2013


Imdb synopsis: A detective examines the mysterious death of George Reeves, TV's Superman.

Adrian Brody is a fantastic actor, too often given interesting roles in uninteresting movies. As my dad says, he's like lightning. But they sure do erect a bunch of lightning rods around him.

Sort of a hum-drum movie that follows the death of TV's original Superman, Hollywoodland tries to shed light on another one of those corrupt Hollywood scandals (Black Dahlia, Argo, etc). Mr. E didn't realize til halfway through the movie you were actually following two story lines: Simo (Brody) and Reeve (Affleck) and they both have their own character arcs.

I really think the only reason I kept watching this was because of Brody. I loved his gritty attitude, the way he played the game. I enjoyed watching his troubled relationship with his ex-wife and son, the way he fought to make his job mean something. Ben Affleck was a bit boring- I think in this case because of his character, but I haven't been super impressed with him until Argo. Granted, the story was set before my time so I think those who knew the drama surrounding George Reeve and the Superman show may have connected with it more, I just don't think it was a movie to stand the test of time.

Plus, I think some of the movie-making was sloppy. It was very difficult to tell what time-period was being portrayed if you didn't see the actors right away. And time within each arc was loose- I never knew how far we had come from the last scene, thus everything seemed sort of rushed or un-motivated. This movie definitely could have been clearer, but I think other murder-mystery movies have done it better.

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

In the Words of Mr. E: Home

Mr. E shows his head! He's agreed to post, once a week, small scenes or small thoughts. Mostly true, sometimes made-up, always awesome. His first addition, a small piece about Home.
“You need to start paying rent.”

Those were the first words Dad said to me as I walked through the threshold.  I hadn’t been home in over two months.  Rent?

I never knew what a grudge was until that moment.  It corroded inside of me for more than a year.


But then I remembered: 

I was in an aisle seat leaning over the stranger who was asleep next to me.  We were uncomfortably close, but I had to see out the window.  The bay became bigger and bigger.  I swore I could smell the ocean through the glass.  A tear rolled down my cheek.

I walked down the terminal, rolling my luggage behind me.  As I rode down the escalator I saw him.  I walked up to him the way I did that time I broke the window with a rock when I was seven; I wasn’t sure how he was going to react.  He gave me a warm hug and whispered, “I love you, son.”

It was good to be home.

Dug Out

He dug himself a hole in the ground. The trees above him rustled like sails, swaying in the hot breeze. This was no day for yard work, but then it wasn't a good day to die either.

She looked on from the window, her face walled off and stony from weeks of watching that poor dog suffer. Laney was only 13, but small for her breed, abnormally so. People had thought she was still a puppy. Jessica had given up on the hope of puppies of her own years ago, content to adopt other dogs instead. Who needed the strain, the extra weight and worry of a high-risk canine pregnancy? She relegated Laney to old age instead, watching her wilt and buckle under the stresses of her diminutive stature.

He shifted the dirt pile automatically to the right, the way years of regimented training had taught him. Stab, shift weight, lever and lift. It wasn't all that different from digging trenches in Iraq, truth be told. Summer was summer, whether it was a middle eastern desert or the carefully cultivated front yard surrounded by scrubby brushes of the southern Californian mountains. You couldn’t escape from the suffocating heat. Just as you couldn’t escape the guilt that pulled you deeper, deeper, deeper.

He dug far longer than he thought he would, each shovelful of earth a commitment to his second chance. A chance he wouldn't squander. He'd been down that road before, each step taking him farther from the things he loved, a twisting turning path as narrow as his vision. The ground shifted and spilled beneath him, moving and adjusting as he continued to pick at it.

She came down to him, leaning slightly back to ensure a sure footing on the steep hill, her pedicured feet solidly placed, unmovable, unshakable. In her hand a plastic cup of water- one of those garishly purple Tupperware cups they could never seem to get rid of. She handed it to him and peeked into the hole, her hair a auburn tangle of waves and curls, what they called her house-hair, fell in front of her face.

"The vet said he'd turn a blind eye. He gave us the go-ahead," she had told him. They picked out the best view of the tilted yard, by the annuals Laney loved to lay in.

Now they both looked at the lifeless form behind him. A mass of fur and limbs, swollen with adipose tumors and a shaggy coat that had seen better days. She had hated the groomer.

Memories, unbidden, rose and caught between them. Researching dog breeds late at night as the kids were sleeping. The smile that caught her eyes when she picked out the puppy she wanted, thankful and hopeful and excited all at once. The vacation they biked around San Francisco, sans kids, towing the dog in the kiddie attachment like newlyweds, admiring the many-windowed buildings rising around them. Jess had always dreamed of visiting the city by the bay.

It was a decade ago that they had been that close. Somewhere in that time he had lost himself and his principles, given them up to someone else, a secret offering discovered. A dog's lifetime of mistakes.

It was no easy task to prove himself worthy again. Trust is hard to rebuild. But after two years of trying they still had this house. This home. He still had his wife. His kids. And this dead dog.

He broke the ground for her, but he buried the dog for himself.

Mr. E's Custom Potato Salad

Food around here can be a little tricky. I've had to get pretty creative to encourage healthy eating- vegetables, less processed foods, more home-made. A lot of the dinners we make are a mix of whats-in-the-fridge: tacos, nachos, salads, sandwiches, etc. Dishes are almost never the same twice depending on what we have on hand. Even our pizzas vary!

When Mr. E and I got married, we were sitting on a plane to Victoria, BC, talking about the things we wanted to do as a married couple. You know, things we could bring up in polite company. I mentioned making a potato salad for an event we were going to and Mr. E made a face. Apparently, Mr. E never met a potato salad he enjoyed, describing them all as mushy and mayonnaise-y with sweet pickles instead of dill. Well, as a new wife, the challenge was accepted. I promised to make one potato salad a month for a full year so we could find the perfect recipe. And also so we could gain that newlywed weight because we're nothing if not over-achievers.
Long story short, we never made 12 potato salads. I think it only took two.

Mr. E's Custom Potato Salad
6 red potatoes
bacon (notice no measurement here. Because you can't measure awesome)
dill pickles
1/4c dill pickle juice
olives (sliced)
cheddar cheese (cubed)
2-3Tbsp mustard
1/4c mayonnaise
salt and pepper
Wash and cut the potatoes- roughly one inch cubes. Cook them in water for about 30 minutes or until you can insert a fork with no resistance.
Chop everything. 
Add the potatoes and veggies to a bowl. Crumble as little (or as much) bacon as you want. Add mayonnaise (enough to bind it, not enough to swim in), pickle juice and mustard to taste. We add A LOT of mustard. Season with salt and pepper.
Refridgerate to help set. Or, you know, just eat it out of the bowl. No shame.

This is seasoned according to our tastes: we like dill better than sweet pickles, radishes instead of onions and lots of mustard. Every once in a while we add hot sauce too!

I can never keep this around the house. From someone who "never remembers" when we have leftovers, no matter where I hide the tupperware he always sniffs it out.

Sunday, April 21, 2013

LOVED This Weekend

How much did we love this weekend? Let us count the ways...
You know, not everyone's into kids...
Mr. E's movie, Ganas, screened this Saturday. For the last few weeks (and for a month after this) student theses screen on the weekends to present and showcase all of the fantastic short films that have been made this year. Mr. E has worked on or has friends who have worked on films almost every week, so it's been a great free date night.

The key creatives on Ganas. Yeah, that's our Key Viking.
Mr. E and his producer, Ms. Clay- fabulous get-it-done lady!
The outpouring of love and support for my sweet hubs was heartwarming. Family and friends came together to watch his short film both in person and through the live streaming event provided by Chapman. We chowed down on food and puppy love before the screening and spent a restful day at the pool on Sunday. Ain't nothin' like an 15 person Eccles dinner, amirite?

Saturday, April 20, 2013

Ganas: The Live Streaming

For those of you too far or too otherwise occupied to come see Mr. E's screening of his thesis film Ganas, Chapman University offers free live streaming for all of the shorts tonight. 

The streaming starts at 7pm PST and will contain 5 short films (15-30 minutes in length). We're not sure which order they'll be in, so Mr. E's could be first (or last!)- sorry about that! Also, keep in mind since these are student films they are not censored and not rated. Mr. E tells me some of the films may have foul language and/or blood and gore. 

Ganas has a bit of both, being a dark thriller. We follow Clara as she unwillingly teams up with her husband's mistress to avoid a brutal gangster who's hell-bent on collecting what he's owed.

We are so thankful to all the friends and family who have supported us through this process- it really takes a village.

Friday, April 19, 2013

Jump #fiveminutefriday

Write. For five minutes straight. One-word prompt, five minutes, no editing. I'm linking up over at Lisa-Jo Baker (aka The Gypsy Mama) where we read, write and encourage.
Five Minute Friday

Heights always do this to me. You always hear how people are afraid of heights but I've never actually met someone who is. I think I have to admit I'm that someone. But really, if we're being honest, I'm not...afraid. I'm trembling, I'm shaking and my mind buzzes, my knees feel weak and my hands grip handholds, but I'm not afraid.

I want to jump.

Which is ridiculous because I'm actually quite terrified of drops: roller coasters, drop rides, diving boards, chairs that lean farther back than you intended all scare me. I cried to avoid Disneyland's Hollywood Tower of Terror the first time. I cried from sheer exhaustion when I actually came off of it.

So why do I hear the small whispers, feel the nearly imperceptible urges to jump when I'm at a high place? It's dizzying and insistent, a pounding in my head that makes me clasp whoever's with me that much tighter.

In the back of my head I dream, secretly, that I'll have the guts one day to skydive. To jump out of a perfectly good airplane and not care and not worry and not stress and be...free.
Craigdarroch Castle, Victoria, BC on our honeymoon-- that was a difficult window to look down from

Thursday, April 18, 2013


Imdb synopsis: Discovering covert and faulty intelligence causes a U.S. Army officer to go rogue as he hunts for Weapons of Mass Destruction in an unstable region.

This movie was not amazing. I thought it had potential: the production design, the actors involved-- but it lacked that little something. Something called character development. I'm not talking about a character arcs, or the rise and fall of the hero. This movie never explained Matt Damon's character. Yes, he's the good guy, fighting the system, bucking tradition and all that. But why? What drove him? What was his past? Why does he fight so hard? I thought the set up the relationships between characters very well, but it was almost as if the movie expected you to already know these people. Like they were stock characters. You certainly understood immediately the situation everyone was in. You know the type, you know the reactions, but the movie never gave you anything to explain why and how the character is the way he is. The movie may have focused on the situation- the war- but movies are driven by people, by characters- not events. You use the people to explain the event, make it matter to the viewer. And this movie never hit that.

Also, typical conversations about movies go a little something like this:

"So, Michael Scott's girlfriend told Bourne that the General was a bad guy. But Little Miss Sunshine's dad is trying to cover it all up, so he sends Lucius Malfoy to take him out, while Mad Eye Moody proposes working with the Iraqi Army."

And strangely, that all made sense.

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Cornmeal Cake

Pinterest recipe: nailed it!

I'm sure I've said it before, but I'll say it again. I love Pinterest. It is SO useful for wrangling all the things I want to try, to do, to make. Recipes, craft projects, sewing, decorations- I like supporting other blogs and their endeavors. I'd rather try a recipe that's been used and approved by a blogger I can relate to rather than food.com. 
So when I had to search "wheat free dessert", I wasn't disappointed. This cake seemed so easy, and I had all the ingredients (ultimately the deciding factor for ALL recipes).
We ran into a small snafu when I took my eyes off the melting sugar for a second and burned the resulting candy to the pan. womp womp But it was a quick fix after I was able to chip the sugar out of the pan. Lesson learned.
I followed the recipe pretty much to the T, the only exception that I used a mix of walnuts and almonds instead of pecans. #Usewhatyouhave Let me tell you, this tasted AMAZING. It wasn't strictly wheat-free because there was a 3/4 cup of flour in it, but on the whole it was mostly cornmeal and eggs. 
We enjoyed dinner with friends: meat and veggie kebabs, grilled shrimp, edamame and some sweet moscato. It was a pretty big hit with most people going back for seconds!

You could get pretty creative with it, too. Think peaches, plums or pears (didn't mean alliteration, there, guys) and different types of nuts. 

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Once Upon a Time in the Midlands

Imdb Synopsis: After seeing his ex-girlfriend (Henderson) turn down a nationally televised marriage proposal, a small-time crook (Carlyle) returns to his hometown to try and win back her heart.
This movie wasn't awful, it just wasn't terribly memorable. I kept expecting something bigger, something stronger to pull everyone together. I don't think it helped that I had a hard time figuring out what everyone's name was due to thick British accents. Dek? Doug? Dick? What is this guy's NAME?

We picked up this movie because of Rumplestiltskin and figured it was worth a watch, just to see what else he could do. Little did I know that Moaning Myrtle was there too! 

I liked that it was sort of a universal situation- even though it was set in England (the Midlands) it could easily translate to urban America. Really any small space where friends and family are so closely intertwined as to render them one and the same. Right? This happens to people? Having moved so often in my life, I wouldn't quite know.

Regardless, this movie had the requisite quirks and oddities: Dek's car, everyone's weird track suits. But I was easily bored and I wanted some grand event to happen that would bring it all together; like the movie was holding it's breath ready to exhale something great but instead keeled over and died from asphyxiation.

So I guess I didn't like it much.

Monday, April 15, 2013

Short- Changing Myself

One of the things I love the most about having my own sewing machine is the freedom it gives me to make mistakes. To mess up, to fool around. Cutting corners and then realizing I did it wrong, but on my own time with projects for myself. No pressure for it to be perfect, just usable

I started a quilt, but haven't finished yet. I took an entire weekend to cut and sew a reversible duvet cover- all straight lines, even! I've been altering and fixing pieces out of our closets, too. Clothes I thought were only good for donating (coincidentally something we've done a lot of lately in preparation for our move), but upon a second look I realized the potential they had. Shirt's too big? Take it in. Fraying ends? Re-hem. Pants look ragged? Make them shorts.

I had two pairs of jeans in my closet that had just seen better days. I haven't bought new pants for a year and a half...which should be good, right? I haven't gained as much as I thought I had, I'm not spending money, etc etc. But I LOVE jeans. I love the way they feel, how they hold their shape. They fit my life-style whether I'm wrestling with the dog, cleaning the floors or playing with babies. So when my jeans start to go it's a little like losing a friend. Except, you know, inanimate and whatnot.
The first pair didn't fit as well as I would like. In fact, apparently these jeans were really keeping it all in there. So while I did make them shorts, they're going to be "around the house" shorts. And we'll keep it at that.
The second pair looked much better anyway. I had a few options for them: hemmed, rolled, cut or folded. I went with a rolled look because I can't stand the frayed ends of cut. Plus, I just worked really hard to make these- why would I want them to unravel as I wore them?
Figuring out where to cut was the easy part. I knew how long I wanted my shorts, and adding length for the roll was pretty easy. I made a small cut in the seam of the pants, but next time I think I'll use masking tape...learned that one from my aunt!

Cutting was a bit of a pain since I knew the fabric had to be straight in relation to the waistband, NOT straight across from the initial cut. And getting the crotch of the pants to cooperate, lie straight, no wrinkles = a pain. But I did it.
I tried the shorts on (and laughed at myself because I gave myself a lot of hem-line wiggle-room) and figured out where I wanted the fold. Then I pinned and cut the outside seam of the pants to make them a little looser around my thighs. It might be nice for pants to be slim, to keep you all in there, but shorts are not as forgiving...

I sewed two seams- one on the top of the fold and one on the bottom to make sure everything would stay in place. I might have been able to get away with just one at the top, but I didn't want to leave anything potentially unfinished. 

The end result! I love these shorts. They're much longer than shorts I usually buy when I'm out- thank goodness! Can't wait to put them to good use!

Sunday, April 14, 2013

LOVED This Week

Spent this week organizing (and making) craft projects. Bought fabric to finish off a project I started weeks ago. Wrapped my floating (and tangled) embroidery thread around coffee insulators  of all things...Felt pretty proud of myself.
Easter candies/cookies/decorations on sale at Ralphs means cut cookies for a buck. Sometimes, after a long week, I feel the lower left.
Also, this weekend was Ripley's "birthday". We brought her home when she was five months, so yesterday makes her one year old! We gave our sweet fur baby a bone almost as big as she was and she was so excited she ran around the house for a good 8 minutes trying to carry it through every room to show it off!