My Craft Journal
The journal that this archive was targeting has been deleted. Please update your configuration.
The journal that this archive was targeting has been deleted. Please update your configuration.

Year of the Nitro

The Chinese calendar may say 2012 is the Year of the Dragon, but I know it is actually the Year of the Jack Russell Terrier (also known as one of the most insane energetic dog breeds ever) at Chez Books 'n' Bicycles. Or perhaps the Year of the Nitro, as in the ninth-scariest roller coaster in the United States, according to the good folks at, who know how to make a viral list.

In the past six months, we put our house up for sale (which involved painting every room but one, refinishing the floors, and getting ourselves not one, but two, storage units at our local self-storage place ), sold our house, celebrated the Little Supervisor's "big 6" birthday with a smashing moon-bounce soiree at a local park, lost one of our jobs, found a new job, bid on three houses (third time was the charm, but it was a nailbiter), landed a dream assignment that ended up being due in the middle of the buying/selling/moving/working/traveling insanity, finished kindergarten, moved, got hammered by the derecho, and learned that Sherwen the Cat has lymphoma, an incurable form of cancer that costs thousands of dollars to treat in exchange for prolonging his life for perhaps--perhaps--a year.

By the time July rolled around, I hardly knew anymore whether I was coming or going. Work stress? Check. Moving stress? Check. Health-of-pet stress? Check. No-power-for-four-days-of-100-degree-weather-while-you-have-your-family-staying-with-you-after-helping-you-to-move-into-a-new-house-only-three-days-earlier stress? Check.

Things appear to have finally calmed down, at least for the moment. We unpacked more than two dozen boxes today (although my cookbooks are still MIA), we're exploring the playgrounds in the new neighborhood, and we've made s'mores in the backyard more times than I can remember.

As for Sherwen, he is feasting on canned tuna and strolling his orange tabby self around the block like he owns it. We don't know how much longer we'll have him with us, but we're doing our best to make the next few months count, for him and for us.

PS: Yes, we walk our cat on a leash, and no, it doesn't bother him. Yes, we realize how unusual this makes him--and us.


Just Add Fingerpaint

The rhyme says little girls are
made of sugar and spice, but
my two have shown me that 
the true ingredients include sunshine, puddles,
paper and fingerpaints, batter-covered spatulas,
winks from not the man--but the lady--in the moon, and 
piles of sand, all grown in
a garden of cupcakes and radishes.




Sigh of the Seller

For this week's Six Word Fridays: "over"

Swiff. Clean. Vacuum. Swiff. Clean. Vacuum.





"Unhappy Hipsters," Meet "Texts From Hillary"

Tired of bad news? Need a break from the fam? I offer you two sites that are guaranteed to provide you with a laugh.

The site of the moment? "Texts From Hillary," featuring a news photo of a no-nonsense Madame Secretary of State texting her (fictional) hysterically dry comments back to her predecessor, Meryl Streep, the Leader of the Free World and his VP, Republican presidential candidates and more.

I haven't laughed this hard since I discovered "Unhappy Hipsters," which features new captions for photographs from the artful modern home magazine Dwell. 


Fashion Plates

For this week's Six Word Fridays prompt: "Return"

Fashion Plate

While Little Supervisor channels Sara Crewe,
Scooter returns to, like, the '80s.


Flashdance Baby