Great Vaccination Debate

To vaccinate or not to vaccinate, that is the question.

Mother’s are passionate about their little tykes and it’s usually their passion that drives them to their decisions on vaccinations.  Today parents are well-informed on their health care options.  Information is almost too readily available.  The great debates can set your mind to spinning and your emotions to flip-flopping.  That’s before we even consider the pleas of the grandma’s.

We all want what’s best for our children and for ourselves; however, ‘best’ is very individual.  Despite some bad reactions in myself as a baby, I chose to vaccinate both of my children to everything from measles to chicken pox to the swine flu.  For me, the benefits definitely outweighed the risks.

I have several friends who have chosen the exact opposite for their children.  They do not believe in vaccinations because risk is high, vaccinations are filled with toxic ingredients, and they do not want to subject their children to anything that is unnecessary.

We are both making informed decisions that we believe are best for our kids.

Recently, the H1N1 (Swine) flu shot has become available.  Parents are once again faced with a big decision.  Should they vaccinate their children?

The county health department held a flu shot clinic in a local church this past week and I not only chose to vaccinate my children to the swine flu, but my husband and I also rolled up our sleeves and took a shot.  Personally I have never before had a flu shot,

but this year I decided to stand in line for my quick needle and lollipop.  I’ve never before vaccinated my daughter against the flu and I’ve only gotten my son a flu shot once.  This year I chose to take the plunge because my son and I are in a high risk category due to asthma.  Vaccinating my husband and daughter reduces the risk of them bringing the illness into our home.

I don’t think everybody needs the flu shot and I’m not sure I’ll get one next year, but this year I decided that the benefits for my family were substantial.

Unfortunately, I was already sick when I got my shot, a secret I concealed from the little old ladies with the needles. I spent yesterday in bed with a fever, terrible congestion, and body aches; however, I’m not completely blaming the shot.  After all, I was already sick.  Thankfully I’m perking up today!  I’m ready to roll in the mud and I have an uncanny craving for corn on the cob.

What about you?  Are you planning on getting the swine flu shot and will you give it to your children?

For more great family discussions, you may want to read the following:

Co-Sleeping with Baby or Beyond

Parenting Advice

Feeding Baby

A Tree Named Phyllis

All it took was fifteen minutes of Santa Claus coming to town one silent night and my children were begging me to put up the Christmas tree.  I took out the same ugly tree as we used last year only to find that it’s still skinnier than my behind.  Disappointed that my plastic tree hadn’t grown over the past year, I opened it like an umbrella, except in reverse, and sat it in a bucket on a bench in front of the window.  I considered standing it on telephone books to add height, but I could think of no way to add width, so I decided to deal with the fact that my holiday decor won’t be featured in Country Living, Southern Living, or Hobo Living.

My daughter gushed over the memories each ornament triggered and my son strung lights and beads so quickly that my mind was left spinning .  I fear I will have little say in Christmas decorating until my children leave for college…assuming my trickery works and they actually leave at eighteen.

It took approximately eight minutes to have a completely decorated micro-tree and only a handful of bulbs were broken in the process.  No one was bleeding and I considered this holiday season to be victorious thus far.

When I finally stood back and looked at the finished product, I could do nothing but laugh.  I’m not certain anyone other than the legally blind can gaze at my tree and not burst into riotous laughter.  To think that it stands on display for the neighborhood and every passerbyer (I made up that word) to see makes me shutter in a mixture of shame and amusement.

It looks remarkably like….

this, less the martini.

Two Thousand Nine will be known as the year we celebrated in the light of our Phyllis Diller Tree.

See for yourself.

See the resemblance?

I know you thought I was kidding.

Have you started your decorating yet?

A Thanksgiving Tree

This year I am skipping Thanksgiving.  If anything, I will eat a turkey sandwich and canned corn to commemorate our Pilgrim history.  It’s not that I’m ungrateful, because this year I am thankful for so much; however, I do not feel like cooking a feast in a just over a week and I’m repulsed by poultry.  Shocking news since I’ve eaten so much chicken it’s caused feather growth.  My current disdain for my feathered friends is causing me sleepless nights.

Could it be a funk?

A change in tastebuds?

Pregnancy?

I gotcha on the last one.   I think it’s a funk and for this reason, I’m skipping right to Christmas.  In honor of that decision, I give you my tree story.  I was a guest blogger last Christmas and this post never made it my site.  I thought I’d relive last year’s tree with you….

After several years of living on a shoestring budget, I decided that I was going to create a fabulous Christmassy mood in my home this year.  I mean, even the mice are getting tired of the popcorn strung on my tree and our stockings have wear holes because we use them for extra socks throughout the year.

This Christmas would be different.  This year I’d buy real presents and not just re-gift my mother’s work cast-offs, I’d buy a new tree, and even splurge on pretty wrapping paper.  I was so excited.  FringeMan would surely be impressed and my children would dream of sugar-plums dancing in their heads.

FringeMan has vehemently hated our tree for several years.  He’s deemed it worse, much worse, than Charlie Brown’s pathetic twig.  He calls it a dollar store knock-off of a folk art nightmare.  Ok, so you can see bark (the cheesy paper mache kind) through the sparse branches, but I never hated it.  I simply don’t like the fact that the tree is skinnier than I am.  When I stand in front of a tree for a Christmas picture, I definitely want the tree to be wider than my behind.

I went to purchase a new Christmas tree last week.  I shopped around online for artificial trees and discovered that they are much more expensive than I’d anticipated.  You know how it is – inflated prices, the economy, moths in my wallet.  Because I didn’t want to spend sixty or eighty dollars on a 4.5 foot tree, I went to The Christmas Tree Shop.  If you’ve ever been to one of these stores, you know it is only one step above the dollar store.  Their motto is “Don’t you just love a bargain?”  Oh, I do, I really, really do.

My daughter came shopping with me.  After fighting our way through the crowds of shopping carts, women cranked on Starbucks, and grumpy old men, I found the perfect tree.  It was only $19.99.  My only problem came when I realized that I couldn’t see it or touch it…definitely a gamble.  I held the box up and wondered out-loud, “Do you think this is ugly?”

A middle aged woman stopped, looked at the picture on the box, and in all seriousness asked, “Honey, are you going for the ugly look?”

Pages from December’s Country Living Magazine flipped through my mind as I shook off the fog of my fabulous Christmas mood.  “Well, no” I said, “but I always seem to hit that mark.”

She looked at me with pity in her eyes, shrugged, and went about her bargain hunting.  What was I to do now?

“Buy the pink tree, mommy.”  My daughter’s full of good ideas.

I put the tree back on the shelf and retrieved it at least four times, finally buying it.  The entire drive home I regretted every penny of the $19.99.  After opening the box and actually seeing the tree, I went into a week-long depression.  This would be the most hideous Christmas ever.  I even considered using the folk art nightmare.  This tree had plastic branches.  It wasn’t even pretending to be real!

 

I took two Zolofts and decided to dress my plastic branches as if they were genuine Blue Spruce.  I’m happy to report that I love my highly processed, definitely un-organic tree.  I’m in the Christmas mood, Santa is on his merry way, and my children are dreaming sweet dreams.  Life is good no matter the trimmings.

Merry Christmas / Happy Thanksgiving

FringeGirl

P.S.  My tree is still skinnier than me.  I’m considering joining weight watchers, but since I’m not sure how many pounds I’ll need to lose, my tree will have to attend weigh-ins so we can both be measured.

 

Tropical Jerk Chicken

This is a repost from October of 2008, but I just made this recipe last week and it really was good.  I thought I’d share it again, since you probably haven’t seen it anyway.  I apologize for the lack of pictures.

Either I’m a good cook or a bad cook, but never anything in between.  Tracking my cooking cycles is almost as difficult as tracking my hormonal cycles, maybe worse.  Unfortunately for our guests, I never know in advance whether I’ll be a good cook on any given day.

Eating at my house is much like playing Russian roulette with slightly less risk.  No one has died from my cooking, yet.  Another factor aiding in bad cooking is my lack of organization and planning.  Being a positive person, I view myself as spontaneous.  Spontaneity doesn’t work in a kitchen unless your kitchen happens to be right smack in the center of a grocery store.

I often find myself scrounging through my kitchen cabinets around 4 in the afternoon wondering what in the world I’m going to create for dinner.  By now my kids have been feigning starvation and grumbling so loudly I think the Lord may send manna from heaven and rescue me from this endless kitchen battle.

What does a person make with 3 cans of varied beans, pasta with no sauce, and salad dressing?  I always have salad dressing and not a person in my family uses it.  Other people tend to bless me with rather large bottles of Italian, Caesar, and if we’re all lucky, Ranch.

At times, I peruse cook books, gather delicious looking recipes (only ones with pictures) and make indulgent grocery lists; however, 3 aisles into shopping realty strikes and I realize my budget is blown and I only have food for one meal.  It’s then I abandon any ideas of feeding my family fancy meals and reapply my lip-gloss just in-case the Take Home Chef happens to be in my store.

If I ever happen to be in the same supermarket as the Take Home Chef, there’s no way he’s going home with anyone else.  My daughter thinks “he’s cute and may marry him when she grows up.”  As his potential future mother-in-law, he’d have to pick me!

Anyway, the whole point is that I’ve created a great recipe and yes, of course, I want to share it.  Don’t be scared, I already told you I’ve been having a few good cooking days.  Ok, here goes, get a paper and pen!

TROPICAL JERK CHICKEN

1 can papayas (don’t ask me what size cans, I have no idea)

1 can Libby’s tropical papaya mix

3 large chicken breasts (you can cut in half to make 6 or use 6 individually frozen cutlets)

Jamaican Jerk Rub (I used a bottle from The Pampered Chef)

In an oven safe fry pan (I used a square griddle that’s oven safe), place chicken breasts, sprinkle with Jamaican Jerk rub, and sear.  After you have nice brown marks on either side of chicken, dump both cans of fruit (with liquid) over chicken and bake in oven at 375 degrees for about an hour or until your chicken is cooked.  Leave uncovered.  It was great!

I promise I made this up.  It was an epiphany between defrosting cutlets and emptying the dishwasher.

Part of 2nd Cup of Coffee’s Fall Into Flavor – Go visit for more recipes!  Click HERE.

-FringeGirl

Highlights

Now for my week in review…

Relax, I’ll just give you the highlights.

*  Butter was on sale in Wal-Mart for $1.50 a pound.  My heart is palpitating with joy.  Don’t tell the diet police.

*  I survived yet another set of parent/teacher conferences without getting sent to the principal’s office.

*  Our woodstove installation is complete (a story to be sure) and now I’m acting like my pilgrim ancestors and stoking the flames.

*  I really did lose one inch from my hips, despite the butter.

I hope your week was exciting.  Share your highlights in the comments section.  Be sure to tell me if you found chocolate for $1.50 a pound!

Happy Weekend,

M&M’s & Weight Loss

It all started a few weeks ago when I received an email inviting me to become part of a secret society.  This secret society was to promote health and fitness and motivate us to not only lose weight, but to become physically fabulous.  It was hard not to catch a bit of the organizer’s enthusiasm; however, when I realized that I was going to have to admit not only my weight, but also my measurements to this secret society, enthusiasm went out the window to make room for common sense.

It is only natural for a woman to protect two things – her age and her weight.

It’s what keeps her a mystery to the opposite sex and I have worked overtime to brainwash my children into thinking I am still in my twenties.  My husband gets so confused that he occasionally demands to see my driver’s license.  I step on my scale only when I am in a shroud of solitude, and although my husband isn’t delusional, he thinks I weigh my less than my scale.  That’s why I married him.  Granted he’s not blind enough to think I am Barbie, but he also doesn’t see Mrs. Potato Head when I am draped on his arm.

My doctor once called to schedule me for an MRI and he told them I was a full THIRTY pounds less than truth.  That man is immortalized.  He will forever be on my Christmas list.  I’ve nominated him for doctor of the year.

So imagine my surprise when I discovered that these women wanted numbers and real numbers.  I would have bailed, but it was too late.  The health and fitness queen is now hot on my trail and checks up on me after I go silent for a few days.  I’m silent because my mother told me not to talk with a full mouth.  I haven’t seen the little arrow move much on my scale, but I am proud to say that I’ve lost three inches.

I got a hair cut.

Monday I realized that I sabotage my own efforts to slim down.  This ‘Aha’ moment came while I was jogging.  After popping the fifth peanut M&M into my mouth, I realized that I exercise to eat.  Does any clear thinking woman pop M&M’s while jogging?  It’s beyond bizarre.

Every quarter block run equals one peanut M&M.  I’m sure I saw this in a Weight Watcher’s add.

Now before you think that I am an anomaly, I missed lunch and was absolutely starving.  As I walked out the door, I turned to the only thing that was available – my daughter’s bucket of Halloween candy.

Diet Rule #1  Rid your house of your children and their snacks.

They will work as Satan’s tempters asking for things like maccaroni & cheese, ice-cream, and cup-cakes.  A hungry woman can only resist so many Oreo cookies.

The worst part of this ‘fitness journey’ is that I’ve lost the 3×5 card that has my beginning measurements in permanent ink.  I fully expect it to resurface in the hands of my children, who will be begin reading off body parts and numbers when I have house full of company.  I am on the precipice of my worst nightmare becoming reality and I have no power to stop fate.  I’ve scoured the house in search of that card and it remains elusive.

If only my fat vanished as easily…

Your ever hungry, but constantly slimming,

Happy Veteran’s Day

Written by my grandfather in his Red Cross journal, given to him while a prisoner, during WWII.

Happy Veteran’s Day!

The Crumbling Cake

If I had my wedding to do all over again, I’d have it on the beach in some tropical paradise.  I’d be barefoot, slathered in sunscreen, and already at my honeymoon destination.  The only problem that I see with a destination wedding is convincing the wedding party and guests to GO HOME.  I would have had to spend my honeymoon with my entire family, so I guess I’m glad I got married in my church and then left.

This is my wedding invitation.  For a while, our identities were replaced by frogs.

I shake my head in shame.

What was I thinking?  Women think  of roses, romance, and beauty when they plan their wedding.  Did I have pond scum on my mind?

FringeMan and I had our first date in December.  We were engaged on May 20th and married on September 20th of the same year.  Whispers were told in person and on the telephone; however, our first child was not born until two and half years later.  Unless I gestated for thirty months, I was not pregnant on my wedding day.

Because we were poor had a budget wedding, we enlisted the help of friends and family.  My mother-in-law made chocolate bride and groom lollipop favors, a friend took pictures for us, my aunt made my veil, and a relative drove me to the church in his car…no limo.  I fixed my own hair and put on some makeup.

Now I would need a crew of landscapers and painters just to work on my head, but this was twelve years ago and youth was on my side.

In keeping with our simple wedding, we decided to forgo a big reception.  In New York your parents generally take out a home equity line to pay for your wedding and you promise the florist your first child’s college fund.  Weddings are elaborate.  You begin your lives in a blissful heap of wedded debt.

I decided that I was going to have cake and punch and hold my reception in the church’s all-purpose room.  I think I made more than one aunt cry with my hasty actions, but I promised them that it would be a good cake – the best; however, my mother had a friend.  The end.

Never let your mother’s friend bake your wedding cake and transport it from Brooklyn unless you live exactly three blocks from her house.  New York’s potholes have been known to devour eighteen wheelers in one gulp.

My cake was to have five layers, strawberry filling, fluffy icing, and a sort of basket-weave pattern with mini pearls.  This cake cost more than my wedding dress.  It’s sad to eat so much money, but we did.

If I were making the decision now, I’d go to Kleinfeld’s, spend all my money on a dress, and be on TLC’s ‘Say Yes To The Dress’.  I’d trade my cake for five minutes of fame and an overpriced cloud of tulle.  Then I would send my guests away with their chocolate lollipops and call it a reception.

But I bought the cake and my grandmother bought the cookies.  She said we must.

You can see by the high-end plastic table cloths that this was to be an event laced with class.

All good weddings need an events coordinator or wedding planner and my big day was no exception.

My aunt, the one with her hands on her hips, became ‘The Director’.  Twelve years later my father-in-law still refers to her as ‘The Director’.  She did her job well.  She also made that veil that’s flying in the wind.

After the “I do’s”, the rings, and the big kiss, FringeMan and I dismissed our guests row by row.  They filtered into the reception area and began drinking punch and nibbling on cookies.  I’m sure they were hungry because I was starving.  Lunch was on my mind, but we had to get through dessert first.  Pictures were taken and we were led to the reception room.

For me, the morning of my wedding is mostly a blur.  On the way to the church, my stomach knotted and my heart froze with fright.  I walked down the aisle without really seeing anyone.  It wasn’t until I tried putting FringeMan’s ring on the wrong hand and everyone broke out into laughter that I relaxed.

After the ceremony, we were led into the reception area.  The time had come to cut the cake.  I walked in and expected to find a party going on, but as I looked around, everyone stared at me and several women had tears in their eyes.  I looked to ‘The Director’ and saw a grief on her face.  Her hand covered her mouth and I heard her whisper, she doesn’t look too sad.

I was clueless.

They they, the throng of women, pointed to the cake.

I looked and thought, “It should be bigger.”  That is when the women converged on me with a million words, tears, and hugs.

Apparently the cake fell victim to a New York City pothole.  FringeMan says that before I arrived at the church, Spanish women were wailing like he only thought possible at a funeral.  My cake was salvaged and scooped onto plates to serve our guests.

The top two layers survived unscathed.

The wedding topper – two frogs under wedding bells.  One with a veil and one with a bow-tie and tophat…my grandfather’s creation.

My wedding advice…

Order cupcakes!

Happily Ever After,

The FringeCouple

**this post is part of Meetings, Marriages, and Memories.  Click HERE for more stories.

Lentil Soup

This soup is good and good for you!  This recipe is also proof that I’ve learned to eat my veggies.  I’m a good girl now.

Ingredients:

1 bag dried lentils (rinse)

5 peeled and chopped carrots

1 bag baby spinach

1 large onion (chopped)

6 cloves garlic (pressed or chopped)

1 lb. ground beef

4 large beef bullion cubes (if you use the tiny ones, double it)

3 tsp. basil

2 tsp. parsley

1 tsp. pepper

1 1/2 tsp. kosher salt

2 bay leaves

12 cups water

1 29oz can petite diced tomatoes

1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese

In a large pot, brown beef and drain off fat.  Add onion and garlic and saute for a few minutes.  Add water and all other ingredients except for the spinach and parmesan cheese.  Bring to a rolling boil and then simmer on med/low for about 1 1/2 hours.  During the last half hour, add the spinach and parmesan cheese.  This makes A LOT of soup, so invite company or freeze it.

If you’d like, you can substitute the ground beef for sweet Italian sausage and add 1 cup red wine – for cooking, not drinking.

OR

You can make it vegetarian by leaving out the meat.

I’m all about options.

I also made these rolls from The Pioneer woman, except I substituted the rosemary for garlic.

You MUST make them.  For the recipe, click HERE.  While you’re over there, grab her chicken parmesan recipe.  It’s heavenly.

I must be hungry tonight.

Enjoy!

The next installment of FringeLove will be posted by Monday evening.  Hope you all had a good weekend.

Today I’m linking this recipe to 2nd Cup of Coffee’s Fall into Flavor.  For more great recipes, click the button below.

Conflict of Interest?

Praying for the Families of Fallen Soldiers

At the risk of sounding narrow-minded and unloving, today I pose a question.  I encourage you to weigh in with your thoughts, comments, and opinions.  It should prove interesting.

 

No, I haven’t thought through all the ramifications of this question and I am looking at things through a very narrow lense.

I’m not military.

I’m not seeing the big picture.

I’m not saying I’m right.

I do not believe there is a simple answer.

I believe in religious freedom.

Why do I even bother to post?  I don’t know, but I’d ask you this over a cup of coffee, so pretend we’re in Starbucks…you’re buying.

Since we are at war in muslim countries with terrorists who happen to be muslim, do you think that there may be a conflict of interest with an active duty American military serviceman being muslim?

Just wondering.

Lowe’s won’t hire you if your spouse has a hardware or appliance store within a certain proximity because of conflict of interest.  Many companies ban ‘moonlighting’ because of a conflict of interests.  You cannot serve on a jury if there’s a conflict of interest.

Get my point?

What do you think?

Am I Crazy?

I need your help.

I have this habit that FringeMan says proves I’m nuts, but I’m not.

Of course I’m not.

Some people are obsessed with cleaning and keeping things perfectly neat.  I am not one of those people.  Before you even think it, I know my sterile bedroom says otherwise, but you cannot see the dust in the pictures and right now there are dirty clothes in a clump on the floor and the bed is a mess.  That kind of thing doesn’t bother me.  In fact, it may still look the same tomorrow morning except with a bigger clump of clothes.

Remember my closets?

What bothers me is cross-contamination of food items or instruments.

That sentence alone may prove I’m crazy.  I don’t know.  That’s why I need your help.  Even if you’ve never commented before, comment today.

I need to know…

Do you clean your can opener ever single time you use it?

Because I do.

FringeMan thinks it’s obsessive.  He is perfectly happy to open a can of peaches today, beans the next, and tomatoes a month from now without ever washing the can opener.  I can’t do that.   I’ve tried to allow it, but no.

So while some may wash their hands fifty times a day, I just wash my can opener.

Tell me you do it to!

Please.

The Bedroom – Behind Closed Doors

I know you want to see my kitchen and I’ve taken pictures, but I just don’t think you’ll be able to catch my vision yet and retain any hope that one day I will be cooking in a kitchen that would make Paula Dean jealous.  Let’s just say I have enough outlets to single-handedly provide power to Sear’s entire inventory of crockpots; however, the kitchen is for another day.

Today I will take you into my bedroom.

Don’t get too worked up.  Love stories are only told on Mondays and today is Wednesday.

Remember that this is a work in progress.  We renovate and decorate at the speed of turtles, but I’ve always heard that good things take time and if you’ve ever tried pot-roast cooked in a crockpot, you’d agree.

Most people say “Very White” or “Sterile” and I agree, but if my room were any more warm and inviting, I’d have two kids and a dog in bed with me every night.  I like ’sterile’.  I’m having an adjustable hospital bed delivered next week.

Not really.  FringeMan would never get any sleep, because I’d be adjusting all night.

These are some things I think are necessary for this room.  Feel free to add to the list.

A Down Comforter – Frankly FringeMan would like me to sleep in something skimpier than a snowsuit.

A Head Board – I have one in mind that I’m still trying to talk FringeMan into building for me.  I’m sure he’ll get around to it after finishing the kitchen, installing the chimney for the woodstove, and hanging wainscoating in the bathroom.  He’s like a carpenter bee!

2 Scenic Photos framed in square black frames for above the bed.  The tree of life is going in the bathroom.  I fear FringeMan thinks it’s a sign to be fruitful and multiply.

A Brightly Colored Chair – Maybe something Mid Century Modern.  Who am I kidding?  I have no clue what I’m talking about!  Maybe a bright plastic reproduction chair from Ikea.

Several Neutral Throw Pillows with a Matching Solid Quilt for the foot of the bed.

To me the plainness is calming, peaceful.  My life tends to border on crazy, so I enjoy having a boring room to sleep in.

Any suggestions?  What would you add?

To see my inspiration room, click HERE.  Just keep in mind barn doors are out of the question and I’m not into canopy type beds anymore.  I don’t like to dust!

For other rooms in my house, click HERE, or HERE, or HERE.

Oh What a Night

Our town sanctioned trick-or-treating to be on Friday night this year instead of on Halloween.  My kids didn’t care what night it was on.  They just wanted to come home with enough candy to rot the remainder of their baby teeth.  Needless to say they are happy almost diabetics with no teeth.

I’m a little disappointed in FringeMan’s behavior, because while I traipsed around town with our little girl begging for candy and donations to fill a UNICEF box, FringeMan sat on our front porch guarding a bucket of candy and making little lady bugs cry.

He’s becoming an opportunist in his old age and taking full advantage of every opportunity to scare the M&M’s out of the neighbors.

UNICEF has been collecting on Halloween for 59 year.  Apparently I’ve been a self-absorbed greedy little candy monger for 34 of those Halloween’s, because I’ve never heard of kids bringing UNICEF boxes door to door.  I’m proud to say that my daughter’s entire second grade class set out to fill their boxes….from my change can.  At least that is how it seemed.

At any rate candy flew from my house more quickly than cash and before I knew it, I found myself face to face with temptation.  I felt exactly like Eve in the garden and for once, I sympathized.  I only wish my vice were Granny Smith Apples and not Three Musketeers.

I fell.

I broke my vow to eat no chocolate.

I’ll say no more; however, when I think back on the births of my two children, I’ll no long curse Eve’s name with the memory of each contraction.  No.  Instead I’ll think of  a Twix and forgive her.

Wedded Bliss

Today is Monday, the day I share my  love story one little memory at a time so I can make it drag out for months and torture you all.   Notice how ‘you all’ is two separate words?  That’s how you can tell that I’m not from the South.

Anyway.

Here’s my favorite wedding picture.

The next installment of Meetings, Memories, and Marriages includes our wedding day mishap; however, I need to find pictures to scan, so you’ll have to wait with bated breath to see what went wrong.  You know something had to wrong.  After all, it was my wedding.

For the entire saga, click the FringeLove link at the top of the page.

The Ghosts of FringeFamily Past

FringeLovers

I know that some of you have seen these already, but today I’m reflecting on where I’ve been and what I’ve become.

FringeGirl 2007

Once I was full of good ideas and creativity.  One electrified look from FringeMan would make my hair stand on end and turn green.

To clarify, I wouldn’t turn green, just my hair.

But now I’m left with only frizz and gray.

FringeMan 2007

There are no electrified looks from FringeMan, because he can’t see me through those long locks, dreadlocks.

FringeKid 2007

At one time I could convince my child that she was a cat.

FringeBoy 2007

I nearly talked FringeBoy into coming back from the dark side.

But….

FringeGirl 2008

something happened to me.

My hair grew in.

I became a hardened, almost plastic woman.

FringeKid 2008

I fear for my sweet babies.

I’ve seen the same plastic look on my darling little angel.

FringeBoy 2008

This year I’m left with nothing.

FringePup 2008

I cannot even think up a costume that my dog will wear.

I think I lost all my zeal when I promised not to steal candy from children’s goody bags.

Chocolate is why I dressed up.

Chocolate is why I went door to door in a plastic mask that cut my oxygen supply so much that I became terribly dizzy.

I’d be willing to pass out in the middle of the street for a Reece’s Peanut Butter Cup.

I’d be willing to humiliate myself in costumes that no self-respecting woman would wear for a 3 Musketeer.

This year there is no costume.

There is nothing but a vow NOT to eat chocolate.

Excuse me while I go mourn my candy.

Enjoy the weekend and eat a Snickers for me, will ya?

Vegetables I Like

Archibald (Mayor): I’m busy, busy, dreadfully busy
You’ve no idea what I have to do.
Busy, busy, shockingly busy
Much, much too busy for you.
Larry: Oh, I see.

Archibald and Doctor: We’re busy, busy, dreadfully busy
You’ve no idea what we have to do.
Busy, busy, shockingly busy
Much, much too busy for you.

‘Cause we’re busy, busy, frightfully busy
More than a bumblebee, more than an ant.
Busy, busy, horribly busy
We’d love to help, but we can’t!

Archibald: Ta ta!

If you haven’t seen Veggie Tales, you’re really missing out on great entertainment with a moral.  These are vegetables I actually like!

As you can see, I’ve had a few things to do and no time to post.  Dreadful isn’t it?

My one question to you:

ARE YOU DRESSING UP FOR HALLOWEEN?

With Age Comes Wisdom

Reality is an evil place to live.  There’s a reason why the majority of society lives in denial of something.  For me, it’s my age.

It’s as if one day I was nineteen, thin, and knew the answer to all the world’s problems and then the next day…well, let’s just say I had to wear a fat outfit today, the kids I once babysat are now in college, and I’ve forgotten how to not only bring about world peace, but also how to mix Hillary Clinton with Donna Reed and get a perfectly successful, yet domesticated woman.

I’ve realized that I am aging and it’s been a shock to my system; however, with age comes wisdom or so they say.  So today I impart to you my newfound knowledge.

1.  Nail polish may not stay on nails, but it can be used to complete practically any school project.  It’s worked on everything from wooden box cars to turkey feathers, mainly because school projects don’t spend much time in Palmolive.

2.  If you eat chocolate until your blood begins to darken and you find yourself smelling like Nestle’s when you sweat, You Will Gain Weight.

3.  Never yell at your daughter.  She will always take it to heart.  This includes when she wakes you up out of a deep sleep to tell you that she needs to make turkey feathers for school tomorrow.  This includes when you tell her to give you five minutes to wake up and you’ll help her and she comes back after 35 seconds giving you a million reasons why you don’t know how to make turkey feathers.  This includes when after you’ve spent an hour gluing beans, pasta, candy wrapper foils, and little pieces of fabric to cardstock feathers, you find out the dang turkey isn’t due for TWO MORE WEEKS!

4.  Unless you plan on loosing your dog, selling your children, and locking your husband out of the house, don’t ever expect it to stay clean for more than two full minutes.

5.  Buy stock in silverware and socks, they constantly disappear.

6.  Our parents shouldn’t have told us that life is hard, they should have told us that life is not cheap.  Children drain you of every last cent.

7.  Kosher salt is like a lifeline to a hormonal woman.  I love it.  I’m not sure why this should surprise me since I am a huge fan of bagels, but it does.  I’m just sad I waited so long to try it.

8.  The quest to cover your gray hair will be more challenging than trying to cover your tracks when you were fifteen and didn’t want to be grounded.

9.    When you find yourself relating to Maxine cartoons, it’s probably time to stop fighting the progress of nature and just start clipping Depends coupons.

10.  God is always faithful.  No joke.

What have you learned with time?

Notice I didn’t say age?

I don’t like to make you mad at me.  I’m a pleaser by nature.

By the way, I’ve added a ‘Reviews’ page to my header, because sometimes people actually ask for my opinion.

FringeMan’s Wedding Story

Although I could have told this story myself, I wasn’t present for the actual event and it’s really FringeMan’s to tell.  I convinced him to let me record him telling his wedding story.  Please don’t ask what I had to promise him in return for today’s Vlog!

So without further ado, here’s FringeMan!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ranMfT2eoSU

I promise you that it really happened.  He has witnesses.

For more stories of Meetings, Marriages, and Memories to visit Musings of a Future Pastor’s Wife…you can link up and tell your story too.  It’s not too late!

For my complete love story, click on the ‘FringeLove’ link on the header located at the top of my page.

Boys Games

This is an actual conversation that occurred in my home last evening while FringeMan was putting the finishes touches on the kitchen plumbing and I was wondering how in the world I was going to cook dinner in the middle of a tsunami type disaster.

FringeBoy mastering the 'DORK' pose

My son and his friend were wildly running around the house screaming, when I suggested that they play something like legos, army guys, or monopoly – anything that would keep them busy and relatively quiet.

“We are playing something.” My son stated.

“Kill each other!”

Without looking up from the pipes under the kitchen sink, Fringeman yelled out, “Well, go kill each other outside.”

“Okay.”  Came two responses and all I heard was the slam of the door and muffled screams from the front lawn.

I like him best like this.

Somehow I think I should be worried.

Have a safe, happy, and quiet weekend.

Etsy Finds

Whenever I need something to distract me from doing the laundry or dishes, I sneak away and browse Etsy.  If you haven’t already played on Etsy, I highly recommend it.  Etsy is an online shop for handmade goods.  You can find everything from hand knit scarves to poop soap.  What could be better?

I figured that since the holidays are coming, I’d share some of my favorite finds with you.  If you click on the picture, it will take you the appropriate seller’s Etsy shop.

I don’t think anything could be cuter than a onsie with a tie for the little man in your life.

Tie Onsie $13.00

Onsies can be found at VeryKiki.

Imagine being able to wear a chandelier around your neck and looking good in it.  I’m sure FringeMan would be hot on my scent if I wore one of these deer scarves.  I actually have a green ‘tree’ scarf made by Pretty Raccoon and I love it.  I wear it all the time!  In fact I think I’ve even posted some pictures of me in it.

Long Scarf/Wrap $22.00

FernTree Studio has the most adorable children’s prints.  It makes me want to have more children just I can I buy a few pictures for their walls.

Prints are $18.00

I like this.  I know what you’re going to say, but I do.  A neck ruffle is a necessary addition to many outfits.

Neck Ruffle $63.00

This lovely neck ruffle can be found on bonzie’s shop.

Tinker AndPo’s shop offers a variety of wrist warmers.  If you live in the North and have ice running through your veins like me, you need a pair.

Fingerless Gloves $22.00

This next item will transform your Holiday decorating.  I can’t believe how much I love these.

Christmas Tree peel and stic Art Deco wall stickers $26.95

The variety of wall stickers is amazing.  You must at least take a look at Charming925’s Shop.  Peel and stick decorating is just my style!

I can’t forget all you animal lovers out there, so this one is for your dog.

Leather Personalized Dog Collar $27.99

This dog collar is by Rollover Leatherworks.  They offer a wide assortment of collars and leashes.

Etsy features some amazing artists and their works.  Go check them out, support a crafter and small business owner, and have fun shopping!