When You're Feeling Blue...

If'n yer feelin' lonely

If'n yer feelin' blue

All ya need to git yerself

Is a baby duck...

or two.

Must - Have Salad Recipe

Ok ya'll, I just couldn't leave that sad post up as the last thing I said today! My goodness. I'm feeling so much better, and have a better perspective on things. I could say so much, but all I'm going to say is, yes, my parents loved each other. I just know it in the core of my soul. They were absolutely amazing people. Words can't describe how much I miss them. Were their hearts perfect? Of course not. Mine isn't either.

I'm afraid I am coming down with the cold that Aaron and Glenco had.

Ok...upward and onward....and Cindy...I'm laughing...cause you think I'm well adjusted. Are you sure you realized who's blog you were posting on!? :-D

Just wanted to share this recipe with you. I'm serious when I say it was the tastiest salad I've eaten to date. I can't wait to grill a chicken breast and throw it in the mix. I'm going to be making this a LOT. It was so fast and easy to throw together. The salad dressing mixed up in a flash, and well, I just can't say enough about it. It's haunting me!

Here's a link for it. It's from Gooseberry Patch.

It says it serves 10.

Who are they kidding.

It served four when I made it.

Thank you again for giving me the space to pour my guts out. Thanks for being a safe place.

Foggy, With a Chance of Sorrow

Photo by Ralph Eldridge

This morning I'd planned on blogging about something fun.

The Vintage Camper Museum we'd visited last week, the homemade crackers I made this weekend, garden plans, pie crusts, or something similarly riveting.

But I can't.

It's March 8th.

Last night right before I slipped into sleep, March 7th caught up with me.

It caught up with me in a way that made my heart crack open like someone cracking open a lobster, carelessly, just wanting what was inside.

Burning tears stung my eyes, my cheeks, my pillow. I wept silently, aching.

I slept.

This morning, I woke up at 4am, still with a lump in my throat, I didn't get up with Glenco. I told myself I needed a little extra rest, so I wouldn't catch the cold that he and Aaron had last week. He assured me the same. "Get some more rest, Jayme".

I wanted to rest.

I wanted to stay in bed all day.

I wanted life to stop.

I felt guilty that the chickens were still locked up, the cats were hungry and the rabbit surely needed water. I decided that none of them would die if I stayed in bed another hour.

When daylight streamed in, I sat up and looked out. The fog was so thick I could barely see the chicken coop. It felt it perfect for my mood. It was 6:15. School starts in two hours. I wish I could call a fog delay. Another hour passed, and finally my bladder and bursitis teamed up and forced me out of bed.

By now I'm sure you are wondering what in the world I'm talking about.

March 7th is my parent's wedding anniversary.

Why I find it so upsetting, eight years after their death, is still a mystery to me.

There are unanswered questions, and no one to answer them.

Last night, as I was lying in bed, I kept thinking that 62 years ago, my parents had married.

It was their wedding night.

Were they happy?

Were they in love?

What plans did they have for the future?

It tore me apart.

I know some things that I wish I didn't know.

It's cracked my fairy tale childhood.

I fell asleep last night, assuring myself that they were madly in love, and happy, and glad to be married.

I had to.

This morning, a fog of sadness is surrounding me.

What if?

What if they weren't happy?

What if my mom was sad and unfulfilled?

What if my dad never realized his dreams?

All I can do to try and fix my heart at the moment is to try and realize my own dreams, and make my own happiness.

Today is March 8th, anyway.

I can't afford the luxury of sadness, and sleeping and moping.

I have to teach Aaron about the hydrosphere today.

I have 79 emails to return.

It's laundry day.

Life marches on.

I just want everyone to be happy.

Fowl Language

I don't use it.

Foul language, that is.

It's not lady like.

But, sometimes, there aren't any other words that work.

I did swear when I was warping my loom.

I do confess to that.

I do confess to swearing when joking around, cause, I just think it's funny then.

But in normal conversation?

Nope.

Swearing is bad grammar's bed partner, if'n ya ask me.

I do hate that I judge people that swear and use bad grammar.

I really don't want to.

It's just when I hear it....bad grammar mixed with swearing -

I automatically assume that the person is under educated, abused, missing teeth or some other misfortunate soul.

And yet I completely adore Gordon Ramsey.

So go figure.

I'm a conundrum - if in fact a person can be one.

This is my kind of 'fowl language'

Talking to my fabulous chickens.

This was a little video I shot of the girls last fall. At the very end, I say 'dude look like a lady' - it's because at the time, I didn't know if I had a chicken that I would name 'Steve' or 'Annie'.

She's now known as Annie.

More Vintage Wisdom

I am really enjoying these old magazines.

I'm wishing now I hadn't purged them years ago.

I saved five.

I had 25.

I love the ladies at the clothesline.

I'm not sure what it is about laundry, and hanging clothes on the line that I find so restorative.

I adore homemaking, did you know that?

I don't know about you, but I could use some of this ointment.

I'm ailing with some serious damp day pains.

I'm going to leave this in the coop so the girls can read it.

No more living like divas, it's time to pay up chickas.

This just made me happy.

Flowers are a necessity.

Amen Maud, amen.

I wish I had one more hen, so I could name her Maud.

I didn't know this, did you?

There's one more thing certain in my life, other than death and taxes.

It's this.

I shan't ever be admired for the smartness of my frocks.

I'm ok with that.

I've accepted it.

I still don't accept the death thing, though.

Girls, they are still pushing the coconut.

Even going as far as saying, if your man doesn't get enough of it at home, he's gonna look elsewhere for it.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

You'd better put some coconut on the table tonight.

I'm just sayin'.

My favorite ad from the 1932 February issue of Woman's World.

'Some Women Are Funny That Way'

And it reads:

Some women have a happy knack of finding joy in the simplest everyday things.

A table set with crisp, snowy linens - a cake baked to fluffy perfection - sunbeams dancing on spotless floors - towels fragrant with sweet, airy cleanness - in such simple homely things, these women find delight.

They're funny that way.

The ad goes on to sing the praises of Fels-Naptha soap. Funny thing, I use that soap almost daily. The ad then admonishes us to jot down 'Fels-Naptha' on our grocery list, whether we soak or boil - 'Nothing can take the place of Fels-Naptha.

Check out this website for all of your soap needs:

www.soapsgonebuy.com

I have a feeling, if you are reading this blog - you're funny that way too.

Upstairs Bedroom - Take Two

Let's try this again, shall we?

Should have done this yesterday, but I was too eager to post pics.

Last night whilst lying in bed, I thought of this arrangement.

What do you think?

I tried to do a panoramic type view of the room.

I'm not totally in love with the chair in there, but I am in love with the chair. One of my first curbside treasures. I could recover the cushion, etc...with no chair there, it looks rather plain. If I don't keep it in this room, I have to get rid of it. There is absolutely no where else in the house for it.

See how the ceiling curves? I think it's cool..but I'm going to have to repaint the ceiling, because you can still see some yellow over the taupe.

The room is really bathed in light. My house faces south. I have all wood blinds on all of my windows in the house. I like them (waving at Cheryl). I gave up curtains a few years ago, but now I'm thinking, that some fabric on the windows might be a nice touch. When my house was all primitives, it all seemed so cluttered to me, so of course, I went for the exact opposite when I redecorated.

The loom in the corner, on an angle. It seems to welcome you to sit and weave. My grandma-ma's old sewing machine in front of the window. If it weren't a family heirloom, I wouldn't care if it stayed or left.

The ceiling fan is an eyesore. Can't believe I've lived with it this long. Staying true to my 'nothing new' this year....spray paint will fix it.

I decided to paint my circa 1980 bedroom set a distressed, antique cream. I thought it would pop nicely with the bed on the wall here. This is the only place the bed can afford a nightstand as well. The old lamp, can go or stay, but it will be painted and re-shaded if it stays.

I want to make a new bedskirt. Something with color. I want to redo the pillows on the bed....

The bed on this wall bothers me somewhat, I keep thinking of a decorating 'rule' that I read somewhere, where the headboard should be the first thing you see when you enter a bedroom.

The chest of drawers is going to have to stay. I just plum need the closet space. The only closet in the house is that doorknobless one in the corner. It's filled with rug making supplies and scuba gear! I think once it's painted, and the knobs are different, it might be ok. The space heater. Don't ask. Glenco isn't taking it out. It's kinda cool when we do sleep up here in the winter, it's like a little fireplace.

Ok, let's talk about that floor. I just KNEW I would evoke alot of comments when I talked about painting it. Ladies...I'm almost 50. I want to play in the dirt, and camp in The Squirrel. I don't want to spend my time stripping and refinishing things. I painted the hall floor.....see?

The door to the left in this picture is my workout room. Can't show you that now, cause it's a bit piled up with all the stuff that was in the bedroom :-) But, the floor is painted in there too, and me like.

Here is a photo, showing the three room merging. Just seems that the floor in the bedroom should be painted so it all 'flows'.

From a far, in the pictures, the floor does look lovely.

Let's take a closer look at it.

Mmmmhhmmm.

Lookie here.

I was sloppy when I painted, assuming the floor would be painted.

The jury is still out on the floor. I can't imagine what I could do to it to make it look good enough. Then the whole floor not matching thing would get to me.

I can't thank you enough for your comments! I have quite a few ideas tucked in my head now. I'm thinking the first thing I should do is to get the headboard and dresser painted.

Keep the comments coming. Let me know how you like this arrangement. I can move things again and take more pics.

I can't wait to start the painting, the layering in of junk and cool stuff, to make this room come alive!

(Mirjana...send me an email!)

With A Little Help From My Friends.....

One of my winter goals was to get the upstairs bedroom finished. I painted it about 3 years ago...um, and didn't finish. I have no idea where the closet doorknob is at this point. Sad, but true. Since then, it's just been a mish mosh of things that I didn't know what else to do with, but that I didn't want to get rid of.

Today, I was REALLY hoping to employ some help from all of you great decorators out there.

My upstairs is in dire need, especially since I've introduced the loom.

This poor room has gone through quite a few transformations. At one time it was bright yellow.

We don't heat it, or cool it. It's more or less an unused room. I'm aiming to change that.

Here is what the room looked like when I walked up there today. I need help. Please call Niecy Nash and Clean House. The loom has overtaken this room, and all the bags and boxes of fabrics that friends have given me for rugs is getting out of hand. Things have been pushed around to accommodate the loom. You've heard the phrase about 10#'s of poo in a 5# sack?

Before I delve further, let me show you The Beast, aka the loom.

Here's me making my first rug.

I'm lovin' this.

Ok, let's get down to 'bidness'

Things that are staying.

The wall color.

The bedding.

The headboard and dresser. I want to paint them. Espresso or cream? I keep thinking of doing a cottagey cream and distress it. I had always thought I'd do it in Espresso, but I'm changing my mind.

The old sewing machine (it was my grandmother's - she passed away when my mom was only 7)

Everything else is fair game.

Please try to ignore all the pictures and knick knacks....it's just clutter that I didn't clean up yet.

Here I moved the bed into the corner. I like it in 'real life' but it doesn't translate well here in the photos.

The chair on the right hand side of the photo is part of a pile that is leaving the room for sure.

With the bed in the corner like that, the only place for the loom is on this big wall here.

With the bed in the corner, the only place for the dresser is here, next to the old space heater.

I love this room, I do...it has good bones, but it just needs some serious help.

Now you can see the pile to the left that is on the way out. An end table, a washstand, and the chair.

Here's another shot of the bed in the corner. I picked up that little desk-y thing at a yard sale for $3. Needs a little TLC, but I like it, and would like to keep it. This seems a good place for it.

With the bed in the corner, I put the sewing machine in front of the windows.

Aaron says 'hi' to everyone.

He's been really busy with school, but otherwise fine.

He made an awesome rug yesterday!

Next I put the bed in front of the windows. Something I really never thought I'd ever do. I have to say the room seemed 'big' this way, and the loom seemed to fit nicely in the corner.

I'm planning on painting the floor.

It looks pretty good in this picture, but trust me, it's all beat up.

We'll talk about the floor in another post.

Here's a few more 'messing' around shots.

Oh please oh please help me.

I'm stuck.

What do you like better?

The bed in front of the two front windows?

The bed in the corner?

The bed in between the two little original windows?

I'll keep moving things, and taking pictures.

Once I get everything out of the room that needs to go, I should be able to get some better shots. I just wanted to slap this post up, so I could get some feedback and keep going on the project.

Tomorrow I'll be posting a series of nude photos of myself.

I mean seriously...does it get more embarrassing than showing a messy room like this?

Thanks so much!

My Hands Tell Another Story

After posting about my Crypt Keeper hands the other day, things went from bad to worse.

Friday night, my hands just flat out hurt and burned from being so dry and chapped. Then of course when there is a dry cuticle, I have to pick it til it bleeds.

(Sparky, I'm ordering the product you recommended, and Deb at FFH, I'm drinking more water!)

I thought I'd refer to my latest copy of Women's World to see what they recommended.

It's from February 1932, but it is the most recent copy I have.

Lo and behold, on the very first page, I found my answer.

Seems that I've been using the wrong soap.

I didn't know that washing dishes, cleaning woodwork and washing curtains could ruin your hands!

I really got a kick out of this advertisement.

So much so, that I'm going to type the whole kit and caboodle out, just in case you'd like to read it too!

It happened just about the middle of the luncheon. Frances, smiling and charming, in lovely Paris clothes. Millie, talking with gay animation - eager to describe her ten happy years of married life.

And Tom has done awfully well," she was saying. "He's a manager of the new factory - and the people here in town say..."

Just then Frances' eyes fell to Millie's hand resting on the white tablecloth. It was just a fleeting glance, but Millie noticed. Her voice died away as she looked at her own hands. How red they were. How rough. How scrubby looking. The didn't look like the hands of successful man's wife.

She couldn't go on to tell about the dear little house they'd bought and the new car. It would sound as though she were trying to make up for those poor, hard-working hands...

And the meeting was spoiled for Millie.

The busiest hands can stay as smooth and white as hands that never work. It isn't work that spoils hands - it's harsh soap. And harsh soap is so unnecessary.

Ivory Soap will wash dishes, clean your woodwork, wash your curtains quickly and well. And Ivory will protect your hands. It will keep the cuticle soft and even. It will keep your skin smooth. It won't spoil your manicure like strong soaps. Just try Ivory for every soap and water task for one week - your hands will tell the world a pleasant story.

What have I learned from this advertisement?

First of all....I'm amazed at how ads were 'stories' then.

Would today's consumers bother to read an entire ad?

I think not.

My hands are terribly 'scrubby' looking.

I could do better, I really could, and I'm going to try.

Gardening season is coming, and if I don't get on top of my scrubby hands now, I'll look positively homeless by June.

I've also learned to keep my hands UNDER the table when I'm having lunch with a friend, thankyouverymuch.

On the other hand (no pun intended), I'm rather proud of my hands.

They've served me well.

They do their tasks quickly, and with skill.

Perhaps my hands don't tell the story of a successful business man's wife, but they do tell a story of a hard-working, farm girl wannabe, that's not afraid to get her hands dirty.

And friends, that's a story I'm happy to tell.

Raspberry Ribbons

Meet your new best friend.

Raspberry Ribbons

I like saying it with pronounced rolled 'r's.

There is no reason, other than I have serious cabin fever.

The full recipe will be at the end of the post. Oh how I wish I could have some cool print feature for the recipes.

A girl can dream.

Whilst Aaron toiled over a paper describing the navigational techniques of Christopher Columbus, I whipped a batch of these babies up.

After mixing your dough, you'll portion into 8 pieces and roll them out in even logs.

Have I ever extolled the virtues of my Silpat?

It was the first thing I went out and bought after I got out of debt.

I kid you not.

$20 well spent.

After rolling the dough into logs, use your thumb or finger to press an indentation the length of the log.

Ya know, it isn't until I see pictures of myself, do I realize how old I'm getting.

Those are crypt keeper hands.

My hands hurt they are so dry.

I use moisturizer, alot.

My hands seem to be in water constantly.

You are going to bake them for ten minutes before you spoon in some raspberry preserves.

I made freezer jam with my raspberries.

I have more jam than I can use in a lifetime.

Thus, these cookies.

After jamming them, you'll bake them for another ten minutes.

And then you'll cut all the ends off and eat them.

Cause the ends don't look good.

Destroy the evidence.

When they are nice and cool, you'll drizzle drazzle finizle fanazle them.

Don't be stingy with the drizzle, shinizle.

More proof of cabin fever, sorry.

O

ma

ga

Raspberry Ribbons

1 cup of softened butter

1 egg, slightly beaten

1 t vanilla

1/2 cup sugar

2 1/2 c. flour

Raspberry Jam

Beat butter and egg together until well blended.

Add egg and vanilla.

Blend.

Add half of the flour, mix well.

Gradually add remaining flour, beating until it forms a ball.

Preheat oven to 350.

Roll out in 8 long strips.

Make an indentation the length of the ribbon.

Bake for 10 minutes.

Remove from oven and spoon jam in the groove.

Bake an additional ten minutes, or until lightly brown.

Glaze with a mixture of powdered sugar, milk and 1/4 t. of almond extract.

(I'm so sorry, I don't measure for this. I just take a blob, maybe like a cup and a half, and then add milk til it's a good drizzling consistency)

After glaze is cool and dry, cut into desired size.

It's Not You, It's Me - A Dear John Letter to Winter

Dear Mr. Winter:

When we first met last December, you totally swept me off my feet.

You promised me days and nights of quiet solitude.

You mesmerized me with your stark, icy landscapes.

You bathed me in comfort.

Quilts, soups, books and needlecrafts.

It was quite a love affair, wasn't it, darling?

Christmas was our Honeymoon, and what a Honeymoon it was.

The lights! The food! The coziness of it all.

I must confess to you dear Winter, that lately, I've not felt satisfied with our relationship.

I feel...

smothered.

You just keep giving so much.

Snow.

Cold.

Dreariness.

I have to think about the children, I mean, the chickens.

They too, have grown weary of your generosity.

It seems lately that you've been showing another side of yourself that I didn't see before.

I'm not here to diss you, darling.

I won't show anymore of your 'dark side'.

It's me, it's not you.

I fear our love affair is coming to an end.

You see,

I've met someone else.

Please, don't cry, you know when you do...it snows.

It's for the best.

His name?

Is that really necessary, Winter?

Fine.

His name is:

I know what you are thinking.....I'm sure you've seen it coming. I've been unsatisfied for a while Winter! This should come as no surprise.

I've been unfaithful. I've looked at seed catalogs, and websites you wouldn't approve of.

When we are together, I fantasize about another.

Spring has made a lot of promises to me, Winter.

Things that you weren't able to deliver.

I will always remember you my cold, icy friend.

I'm sure at times I'll miss the rest you offered.

I will miss our TV time.

I'll miss the soups.

We can still be friends.

It's not you, it's me.

Oh dear, I feel like such a