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

1/2 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.

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!

The Dog Whisperer

Some have suggested that because of yesterday’s dog tale, I should employ the help of a trained professional.  Someone like the Dog Whisperer.  Consulting a doggie psychologist like Cesar Millan is a fine idea; however, if I had money for a shrink, you can bet your bottom dollar I’d by lying on the couch for an hour and not my rescue pooch.

Sending my dog to obedience school would be like sending my children to private school and neither are in the FringeFamily’s immediate future.   I’d like to know why public education isn’t available for our pets.  Perhaps I’ll lobby congress…

Lest you all think my dog is just a wild hearted, free roaming, mangy beast, I’ll take a moment to brag on her.  I’m pleased to report that ‘O’ sits, lays down, gives you her paw, gives you her other paw, and goes to her box (her crate) on command.  Personally I’m impressed.  My children still haven’t mastered going to their boxes.

So while you may think total rehabilitation is necessary, I think I may just try an illusion collar.  Hopefully an electrified version will be available soon.  If not, I’ve heard a taser works well.  At least that’s what the children say.

Kidding.

Sheesh!

My Life in DVD

While I’ve given way to my inner Martha for an entire weekend, I think my career as a scarf weaving loomer came to an abrupt halt this afternoon when I realized that my daughter now has four scarves in various colors and weave lengths, but only one neck.  Unless she spontaneously grows another neck during the holidays, I think I’m done with weaving.  After all if I continue to send her to school looking like a potholder every day, the teachers may start to question my fashion sense.

When I weave (Doesn’t that sound very colonial?  …almost Martha Washington-esque…), I have time to think and I was thinking that if my life story were to sell on DVD, it would have a hard time being categorized.  Would it be a tragedy, drama, or comedy?  Although there have been plenty of sad moments in my life, not enough of my loved ones have died by the sword, so I think I can safely eliminate tragedy.  Currently I’m stumped somewhere in the midst of a hilarious, heart-wrenching comedic drama.

Sunday’s episode of nonsense did nothing to help me sort out the finer details of my life.

The boys were on a scouting hike Sunday afternoon and since the sun was shining and the frost had melted, FringeKid and I decided to take Oriana, the dog, for a walk.  Notice I didn’t say ‘my dog’?  I’m very careful with my verbiage.  Dogs are accurately described as ‘man’s best friend’ and not ‘woman’s’ for a reason.  Dogs are a woman’s worst nightmare.

At least this dog and this woman.

Feeling full of vigor, we were dragged meandered across town and found ourselves sitting in a park catching a quick rest.  Truth be told, and it’s like I take a dose of truth serum before I sit down at my computer, I was catching a break while FringeKid played in fallen leaves.  The dog, or ‘O’ as we lovingly refer to her, was eyeballing a long-haired yappy mid-sized mutt.  This dog just wouldn’t shut up.  In all fairness she was asking for trouble, begging ‘O’ to come kick her shaggy butt.  Her owner was…there’s no nice way to say this…not home.  There were no lights on upstairs.  The gray matter between his ears was missing.

You get my point.

I guess ‘O’ had reached her breaking point, because in one quick act of Houdini proportions, she slipped out of her harness (not just collar) and ran full speed ahead.  She pounced the barking mutt, but ‘O’ isn’t a fighter at heart, so she decided that while free, she may as well explore the town on her own.

By this point FringeKid and I are frantically running after her pleading for her to return.  This is when ‘O’ lost all reason.  She ran directly into the road and was hit by a large grey van.  I watched, as if in slow motion, my dog smash into the front left fender of the van and be thrown into the middle of the street.  I stopped running.  Her yelps of pain carried in the crisp air and she did a dead man’s roll.

Before I could have one logical thought, she jumped to her feet and took off running right in our direction.  FringeKid and I dropped to our knees, arms outstretched and she ran right past us with barely a glance.  She ran past the toddlers riding their bikes, past the father raking his lawn, past the group of teenage girls on a scavenger hunt and past the two middle-aged female walkers.  I couldn’t believe my eyes.  She was gone.

An entire year of drama and now she was gone.  There was no use chasing her, because at peak physical condition, I only jog at a maximum speed of 5.3 miles per hour.  FringeKid is slower.

I looked like a fool walking my empty harness that dangled from my chain link leash for the two miles it took us to reach our doorstep.  FringeKid was on the verge of tears. I somehow managed to offer words of condolence, while inwardly singing the Hallelujah chorus.

I know that’s terrible and it shows my blackened heart, but believe me God got even.

As we walked up the steps to our house, FringeKid said she was going to check the backyard for ‘O’.  The words “She’s not there.” didn’t make it from my lips when I heard her screams of delight.  ‘O’ was waiting at the back door.

No!

She ran right home.

She doesn’t seem permanently damaged, although she spent this morning sleeping in a patch of sunlight for an inordinately long time.

I’m sure to the bystanders that watched our episode in the park Sunday afternoon, it was a comedy.  To FringeKid it was a tragedy with an unusually happy ending   To me it was all drama.

And to think, it wasn’t even a Monday.

Growls of Congrats

At the suggestion of our pastor, FringeMan and I stood at the front door of the church greeting people, handing out bulletins, and flashing my new diamond ring.  We received more hugs and kisses than the chubby cheeked Michelin tire baby on his first birthday; however, all celebrating stopped when FringeMan’s ex-girlfriend walked through the door.

This woman, who I sat near on our first Christmas party date, was less than impressed by my diamond.  At least that’s the feeling I got when, as she stood in front of us, she lifted her lips into a snarl and growled.  Caught completely off guard and fearing fangs would drop from her upper lip, I stepped backward and slightly behind FringeMan.  Probably because shedding blood on the church steps would be considered unforgivable to fellow parishioners, she passed quickly by.

My brother had come up right behind the growler and as soon as she passed out of earshot, he looked at us with a mixture of shock and complete amusement.

“Did she just growl at you?”  He asked in wonder and then collapsed into a heap of giggles.

Sadly I’ve forgotten all the well wishes and words of congratulations.  In my mind my engagement is marked with a growl of disgust and so, I blame FringeMan for bad taste in women…until me of course.

For my complete love story, click on the FringeLove page located on my header bar.

For more continuing sappy stories, head on over to Musings of a Future Pastor’s Wife.

Top This

Try to top this if you want, but I’m not sure you can.

You know you need a life when…

you find yourself making a loom and weaving a scarf.

Yes. I did.

Apologizing to Martha

Never, I repeat, never listen to me when I go off on a rant.  I recently defamed Martha and now I have to eat crow.  I don’t even like fall crow.  It taste slightly stale.

I just couldn’t help adding a little ‘fall’ into my decor.  There’s nothing better than pumpkins and gourds and apple pies baking in the oven.

Nothing says I love life more than a white pumpkin with spider webs painted on it.

Despite the plastic skeleton hanging on my porch, I like subtle uses of color and nature to mark the change of seasons.

The spirit of the modern woman has been reunited with my inner Martha.

This is my late in the day, uncombed hair several of you asked to see.  Should I cut?

I look displeased because I’m not good at taking pictures in the mirror.  I cut half of my head out three times.

Please excuse the box that’s sitting on my bedroom floor marked ‘kitchen’…and the unpainted ceiling…and the pile FringeMan’s clothes on the dresser.  Martha hasn’t made it to my second floor yet.

I also owe my mother an apology and it’s worse than eating Martha’s crow.

I publicly mocked her for suggesting I sew a blue pearlized octopus costume for my daughter to wear on Halloween, and I may have said something  unkind about sew & stitch mothers and obsessive compulsive overachievers.

Yesterday I took it all back in one divinely inspiring moment of craftiness.  I made curtains out of drop cloths.

It all started one summer day when I was painting the living room and suddenly crashed into my paint can.  As thick white paint oozed all over my drop cloth, I was struck with what a fabulous curtain it could make.  When I found out that each drop cloth was under seven dollars, I knew that one day they would be hanging on my windows.

My neighbors are going to need to get their cable reconnected now.  No more watching the FringeFamily at primetime.

This morning I created a loom and I’m weaving a scarf.

No kidding.

I think Martha has taken over.  She must be restrained before I start knitting socks.

The loom is really Nina’s fault.  It was all her idea!

Have you connected with your inner Martha lately?

Check out Hooked on House Tours: Fall Edition for more great fall decorating.
I’ve added this post to …

Go check out the other blogs for great money saving ideas!  Click HERE.

The Rise & Fall of Civilization or Fashion

I am writing this post as I’m waiting for FringeMan to finish cutting holes in my walls and floors and finally take me to lunch.  He promised.  He happens to be working at home today because we need heat, which leads me to the topic of this post – The Breakdown of Civilization First Seen in a Fashion Slump.

I went to bed in paint spattered faded brown sweat pants, a free ‘volunteer’ shirt from Kohl’s (leftover from my short, but well-loved career in retail), and a giant (perhaps x-large, oversized) fleece hoodie complete with an embroidered moose on my chest.  FringeMan did not make any moves on me.

All fashion sense, common sense, and good sense goes out the window when the temperature dips below freezing.

I am cold.

Ice runs through my veins.

I should be living on the beach in Florida.

What I’m saying is that I dress for warmth.  I wear wrist warmers in the house. I wear fleece lined plastic clogs out of the house.  I wear scarves, hats, and when necessity demands, my husband’s hunting socks.  I am a living, breathing, walking fashion faux pas from October to May.

Sadly it’s not just my clothing.

My hair…the post I’ve been putting off for weeks…is a disaster.  I hadn’t realized how long it had grown because it’s been coiled in a giant claw clip since about April.  I simply tired of taming my hair.  I had better things to do this summer, life to live, a house to paint!

My neglect reminds me of a field of wheat left unharvested to die.  It’s overgrown, dry, and wild.  I let it down last week and scared my neighbor’s child.  She may not come back to play with my daughter until she’s seventeen.  I was all set to hire a hay-baler and be rid of the crop; however, this morning I decided to ‘fix it.’  A task that requires 3 brushes, one industrial blow dryer, a flat iron and oil.  Yes, I add a blend of natural oils to my hair daily.  You’d think you could fry bologna on my head, but no.

The problem is that the Cuban Missile Crisis was resolved in less time than it took for me to do my hair.  I mean today it looks good, but I don’t want to be a slave to my hair…my keyboard maybe, but not my hair.  Should I hire a team of scissor wielding stylists and cut?  That’s my question.

There’s more.

With the onset of cold weather, my skin turns into the Mojave dessert.  I would like to use endless bottles of Aveda’s all natural, organic, ultra hydrating facial moisturizer, but then I wouldn’t be able to pay for heat.  We already know I like heat, so I went back to my old faithful – Ponds.  Nothing says you’re turning into your grandmother like a tub of Ponds cold cream.  I’m not sure what’s in it, but I think it’s been around since Moses’ wife suffered from dry skin in the heat of the Old Testament dessert.  It’s probably animal lard, but I’d rather not know.

I slathered on a handful before climbing into bed the other night and turning to me, FringeMan asked if I were going to play bingo the next day.  For the record, I know plenty of blue haired women that enjoy bingo very much, thank you.  I may indeed wear my wrist warmers, hair oil, and Ponds and go play Bingo Monday night!

Intervention.  I need it.

Please check on me in January.  I may be borrowing clothes from the senior center by then.

Love,

-a very starving FringeGirl having a good hair day

Getting Even

Now I know the Bible says that ‘vengeance is mine saith the Lord’, but I must admit that it felt absolutely wonderful to get even with my children this weekend.  In fact FringeMan and I were on such a delighted high that we’ve mapped out every haunted house and cornfield in the great state of New York.

My son, who spent the entire day talkin a bunch of smack, hid behind me after just ten steps into this cornfield.  It was going to be nothing but a bunch of silly plastic decorations, he said.  He was going to either walk way in front of us or way behind, because he wouldn’t be scared at all.

This is Mr. Tough Guy before he had the bejeebees scared out of him.

Now who’s hanging onto who?  He, he, he…

As I was arguing with FringeBoy over wearing a jacket on his outdoor field trip today (Did I say it’s like 45 degrees and raining?), I just thought back to this pumpkin headed beast who made the pains of motherhood worthwhile.

I clutched my heart in pain the same way when this dear little child told me I could never wear a bikini because I have too many ’spring’ marks on my stomach.  If only my skin sprang after forty weeks of being pregnant with a nine and half pound butterball, I would be able to wear a bikini!

We had the best time Saturday night!  I won’t even mention which child woke up around 11:30 pm screaming “Get off me!  Get off me!”

I love the fall!

Make the most out of your October and scare the socks off your children!  (In a very loving and nurturing way of course.)

Marry Me?

Strains from a small live band flitted over to our table, as I sat staring across the candlelight flame into the eyes of my adoring man.  I had just finished eating the most exquisite meal and was now awaiting a sinfully rich chocolate desert.  Fresh flowers filled our personal space with the aroma of rose petals.  An eager waiter hovered close by waiting to fulfill our every wish.  In my mind, nothing could be more perfect about this night.  Little did I know it was about to get even better.  A sparkling diamond awaited me, served with desert.

As the ever romantic FringeMan dropped to one knee, took my hand, and pledged his forever love, onlookers drew in a long breath of anticipation.  How could I resist the look of raw passion blazing from his eyes?  Throwing my arms around his neck, I half laughed, half cried yes, yes, yes.

Applause erupted from ever corner of the restaurant, echoing off the dimly lit ceiling.  The band struck up a song dedicated to our new young love.  This remarkable moment will forever be etched in my mind.

AND, in my mind alone.

Buzzzz, Buzzzz…my doorbell was ringing.  As I hauled my lazy body up off the couch to go answer the door, I tried to figure out who it could be.  My brother was home, my mom at my grandparent’s house, and I wasn’t expecting company.  It was my night ‘off’.

I always took Thursday nights off from dating, seeing friends, and being social in general.  Thursday nights I lounged around in pajamas, watched TV, read, or did anything I WANTED!  My boyfriend (later husband) didn’t always understand this “night off” concept, but it was my rule.  After all, a girl needs her space.

Apparently, FringeMan didn’t think I needed my space this Thursday.

“What are you doing here?  It’s my night off.”  I asked opening the door.

How could he resist me?

Acting much weirder than usual (considering his extreme personality, that’s scary), FringeMan came in looking like he was trying to hide something.  He fidgeted more than a flea and turned 4 shades of red, pink, fuchsia, and salmon before pulling a ring box out of his pocket, falling to one knee, and blurting out “Will you marry me?”

I was so surprised.

It was so sudden.

This was my night off!

A beautiful diamond, nested in a band of small chips, sparkled up at me.

“Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”  I cried out with joy.

My brother, wondering what all the commotion was about, poked his head around the living room door frame.  I ran to show him my diamond and share my blissful news.  He was so happy for us; he offered to make us all Sabrett hot dogs.  It was true cause for celebration.

Nowadays, we good parents know not to use food as a reward.  Using food as a reward causes our children to have an unhealthy relationship with what should be purely an energy source.  Instead food becomes an expression of celebration, disappointment, and comfort, ultimately contributing to morbid obesity and early death.

Back when I was a kid, my parents obviously were not privy to such scientific data.  Food was always used as a means of celebration; therefore, Sabrett and not just cheapo wieners would mark my engagement.  My brother couldn’t have been happier for us.

Immediately, I thought, my mother MUST know.  “Let’s run over to my grandparent’s house!”  I urged FringeMan.

On the way over, we decided to allow my family to discover the diamond I was flashing for themselves.

My mom, aunt, and grandparents were all sitting around the kitchen table having coffee when we got there.  We joined them and immediately I began talking mostly with my hands.  For a moment, I thought our surprise would go undiscovered.  Perhaps this rock of mine was not large enough after all…

Just as doubts descended like an angry vulture, her talons tightening their grip on my joy, a burst of light bounced from my diamond straight into my mother’s eye.  Unfortunately for those in spraying range, she’d just gulped from her coffee cup.

Eye widening to the size of half-dollars, her cheeks squeezed inward (resembling a blow fish just before it blows) and a rather large stream of coffee sprayed from her lips across the entire table.  Each of us in her wake was drenched.  There was no doubt, she’d seen the ring.

Once again, my family had reason to celebrate and my grandmother insisted this remarkable day should be commemorated with nothing less than a Carvel ice-cream cake.  That night I began an unhealthily relationship with food, but an adventure filled future with FringeMan.

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This is actually a repost from Oct. 6, 2008, but I didn’t have any readers back then. Some of you are wondering how I knew FringeMan was ‘the one’.  Considering the fact that I didn’t eat my veggies and this alone was sure to send us to divorce court, it’s cause for wonder.  It is this verse that erased my doubt and sealed my fate.

1 John 4:18  There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love.

You can visit Musings of a Future Pastor’s Wife for more love stories…maybe you’d want to tell your own…click HERE.

For my full story, see the FringeLove link on my header.

Enjoy your day!