Fire hazards Make the Best Centerpieces...

We went out for a lovely and loooong hike on Gold Mountain the other day. Every time we stopped to catch our breath, Dave would admire the view - I was bent double with my hands on my knees trying to suck in oxygen(there's more of it at lower altitudes so I figured closer to the ground would help).

With my gaze fixed on the ground at each of these stops (all 123 of them in the 3 hour hike) I noticed that were a lot of really cool branches on the ground.

And really cool branches make really cool candle holder centerpieces...

I confess, I have probably been somewhat influenced by the 17 hours of HGTV Christmas decorating I have watched in the last week...they were all about bringing the "outside in."

As luck would have it, last winter a huge tree fell down in our backyard. I know most people wouldn't think that was lucky but I'm making lemonade...er...candle holders.

A huge ice storm actually pulled it over exposing the root ball.

Now Dave wanted to hire someone to chop it up before we got a ticket from the county for the fire hazard. But we own a chainsaw and I wanted to do it myself!

So I did.

Then I removed the stump - which took 17 hours of digging.

The stump was out and I still had all my limbs - it's Miller time!

Then I set it all out by the street for the county chippers...except they didn't take all the big branches.

Back to our hike - by the end of it I was too weary to even pick up one branch to bring home - but I noticed yesterday that the chipper guys left some branches under the trunk pieces...and they were the perfect size for centerpieces!

The branch possibilities...

So a quick trip to the hanger for some quick chopping.

You have to love a good chopsaw!

Scratch the "quick trip" - since I locked my keys in the hanger, Dave had to walk down to the airport in 30 degree weather to bring me keys. He was less than thrilled.

Back home, it was time to drill. I don't actually have a vise so I had to hold the branch between my feet to drill with two hands.

If you don't have a vise - rubber rain boots work in a pinch.

But the results are lovely...and a fire hazard...perfect for holidays on the edge!

So pretty!

Another HGTV success story...assuming I don't burn down the cabin!

Red China - Red Chairs - Red Face

I've finally figured out what the acronym "M.A.D.E." IN CHINA actually stands for...

Oh sure, for years I, like many people, thought it was just the location of where items were manufactured...NOT SO!


After taking 2 days to assemble 4 red bar stools (that came half assembled so should have taken 20 minutes tops), I have a sore knee, bruised thumbs and clear insight into the real meaning of those letters...


M.A.D.E. actually stands for Manufactured Atrociously by Deranged Engineers.

Each box held two half-assembled chairs...in theory, anyway.

Now don't think I hate engineers - I gave birth to one - well, actually she wasn't an engineer at first but thinking back she was awfully good with Duplo...hmmm.


And my best friend is an engineer (and she's half Chinese...more...hmmm).


But those other engineers?

The ones who painstakingly craft bar stools where the bolt-holes almost...but never...actually line up so you can screw them in without using super-human force and their stupid Allen wrench?

It's them I hate.

Case in point: consider that hole-bolt alignment issue. At first I was convinced it was simply a matter of shoddy workmanship - perhaps my stools were drilled on a late Friday afternoon after a liquid lunch in good old Gansu Province.

But lets do the math...2 bolts in each leg x 4 legs per stool x 4 stools = 87 chances to accidentally line up ONE hole! At least the way I drill.

But no, with the same level of attention to detail that produced the 8000 Qin Shi Huang Terracotta Warriors, EVERY hole was slightly off so that I had to use the included Allen wrench (and my super-human strength).


It's a plot I tell you. A carefully crafted plot. Nothing overlooked in its execution.

Here's another example: At first I felt lucky that they had included the Allen wrench. After all, it would save me from digging through my tool box to locate one that fit.

Mind you, my Allen wrenches are actually long enough that I can get some real leverage.

This Allen wrench had been cleverly sawed off at just the right length to insure that not a single extra pound per square inch of torque could be applied.  Perfection I tell you...and extreme attention to detail.

I also had to use my super-human strength to detach the hardware bags from the seat bottoms.

Did I mention that all the bolts, screws, washers and wrench arrived double wrapped in a plastic bag stapled to the bottom of the seat?

I was impressed with the double bagging - particularly when I realized that the bolts had been soaked in oil. The plastic bags were no doubt intended to make sure that none of the oil stained the lovely red Ultrasuede during transit...of course, the same cannot be said for my greasy fingers during assembly.

Note to self: invite some small children over to blame for oily fingerprints.


The only thing in the tool bag not covered with oil was the doll-sized bottle of glue...scratch that, it's hard to picture doll-sized" these days...just imagine a bottle of glue you could actually take on a commercial flight - all three drops of it.

Notice the size of the "safe for air travel" glue bottle.

48 hours later, I had them assembled...and I was exhausted but proud of myself for tightening every last bolt no doubt beyond the manufacturers' recommended tightness.

Sure they were a little wobbly but with all those misaligned boltholes that's hardly surprising.

I proudly placed them at the kitchen desk and at the island.

And then Dave saw them. He didn't say anything about the wobble specifically he just held out his hand for the Allen wrench. I slapped it smartly in his palm and smiled smugly knowing those bolts were as tight as they could ever be.

Until Dave tightened them.

Dave in action correcting my assembly.

I was a little red-faced to discover that my super-human strength is more like ordinary-middle-aged-mum strength...but I blame the sawed off Allen wrench. With the right tool, I could have...

Well, at least they don't wobble anymore. I do love the color. They're super comfy and my bruised fingers are soooo happy it's done.

They are nice stools.

In Short - It's Benchtastic!

Finally the bed to bench project is complete!!!

Seriously, this is nothing short of a miracle.

In fact, if I was forced to select a "theme word" for the whole project "short" would be the one. (Yes, I realize that only ex-English teachers are nerdy enough to select theme words).

Short...yup...that's the one.

I am short (5'2" and probably shrinking).

I shortened two beds to make them into benches.

Pine Bed #1






Pine bed #2 which I painted blue



I made short work of sewing some throw pillows.

I shortened some extra foam to make the seat cushions.

Pine bed #1 with the foam seat cushion

The fabric I bought to cover the dang foam was also...too dang...short.

Just an inch too short and since I paid $3 a yard for a remnant there was no chance to buy more.

I used short cuss words when I discovered this.

My final solution involved patching in some of the throw pillow fabric on either end of the main cushion fabric. It was either that or cut the foam and that would leave the chipboard exposed. Plus I like the tight fit for a seat cushion so it doesn't slide off when people sit or stand (or tiny dogs jump on it).

Pine bed #2 was lots less trouble and makes a comfy spot on the back patio.

In fact, I was sitting on the completed blue bench watching the boys take their "evening constitutional" when 12 (I counted them) fat and fluffy quail strolled by not 20 feet away.

Huckleberry (the white Chihuahua) ignored them while Golly watched them waddle past intently (no doubt weighing his options as they were just about his size).

A few of the middle ones (#'s 4,5, and 6 I think) stopped to take a detour towards Huckleberry which fowled up the whole line - tee, hee (more English teacher humor).

It was pretty cool to sit in comfort and watch the grand promenade.

The Dangers of Insomnia

 

My new soup cookbook

Standing in line at Kmart the other day behind some woman trying to cash a third-party, out-of-state check to buy jingle bells that she insisted were on sale (I'm great at picking lines), I'd read through all the decorating magazines and was working my way through the tabloids when I caught sight of this.

 

I LOVE soup! And now that I'm unemployed, I actually have the time to make some. So I bought a copy.

The first recipe I tried turned out great - it was a steak and potato soup (the cover recipe of course) and was fantastic...so I was feeling pretty good about my cooking skills which are a little shaky despite the fact that:



1. My one sister is a gourmet cook with an actual following...

2. My other sister bakes treats that bring grown men to their knees...

3. Even my niece can make a Yorkshire Pudding that causes arm-wrestling matches to break out at the dinner table...

4. Oh...and...yeah...I used to be a Home Ec teacher...not that that helps in the slightest.

I think my problem is that the gene that leads to good cooking skills has a partner gene for eating skills. So while I missed out on the former, I am loaded with the the latter.

And I get a little impatient (okay lazy) sometimes and decide to use what I have on hand instead of running to the store for actual ingredients (yes, Alex, I know the maple syrup instead of vanilla cookies I made for Thanksgiving are a prime example of this).


So anyway, I couldn't sleep last night. I was tired enough but just couldn't get it to "take" so I decided to watch TV.

No real shock to you I know, but I am addicted to two channels - HGTV and the Food Network. Now HGTV in the middle of the night isn't ideal because if you get inspired, you're not allowed to use any power tools until after 8 AM (don't ask me how I know that - and they never actually gave me the ticket).

But the Food Network is a whole other ball of inspiration.

And they make it look soooo easy. A dab of this...a splash of that...use some great phrases like, "the heat hides behind it and then blooms in your mouth" or "it's multi-layered spicing" and you're a chef.

So making my new recipe for "In a Hurry Chicken Curry" with only 6 ingredients should be simple...except we didn't actually have any chicken. But everyone knows (on the Food Network they know) that it is perfectly acceptable to substitute:


The frozen ground turkey for the chicken thighs

The frozen broccoli in cheese sauce for the frozen stewing vegetables

The heavy accent of late-night chef for the actual cooking knowledge

This is what it was supposed to look like:

Looks very yummy in the cookbook doesn't it?

 

I started with the frozen veg I had on hand and some leftover potatoes.

Frozen broccoli with cheese sauce lumps and potatoes



Then I added the turkey and some onions.

With turkey and onions awaiting the curry

I had a little trouble measuring the curry as I used my measuring spoons for my last hair color experiment and have decided that they are no longer "food safe". I used a regular kitchen teaspoon and spilled a bunch of the curry - a very Julia Child moment really.

The final result (with dumplings) didn't look too bad on Dave's mum's wedding plates...

I have a not-so-secret love for dumplings



Of course eating it was another matter entirely...



It needed more curry, more salt and maybe...more chicken.



I Blame Erica

I blame Erica...or should I say, "I blame adult Erica."

Little Erica had no sense of style - Little Erica was willing to wear a pink princess nightgown with fairy wings to the grocery store. That was a style I could connect with.

Adult Erica is a totally different person...not a slavish fashionista but she could be if she made more money. The change started when she hit puberty...a trip to the Bobbi Brown counter in Fashion Valley (why didn't I make the connection to the name then???). Then a subscription to Glamour and now she lives in the heart of San Francisco...

She has taste, I'll give her that.  And heaven knows I don't have much fashion sense when left to my own devices (I am typing this to you while wearing pink plaid pj bottoms, a grey flowered t-shirt, a plastic headband and fuzzy black slippers in case you doubt my assertion).

So we met in Vegas for lunch. And we happened across the glove, hat, and scarf section of a store. She found stylish curry-colored leather gloves within seconds. I found a kelly-green beret that made me look vaguely seasick (although the shape was pretty - after Erica had rearranged it on my head of course).

I like berets but apparently choose to wear them like every cartoon French painter which is not the best look (according to my "personal shopper" anyway). These days, I am informed, they are worn on the back of the head which I have to admit is an improvement.

I don't like hats across my forehead - they itch. Then I scratch and by the time I arrive anywhere I look like I have a fever or at the very least an odd forehead rash.

I wanted to buy the beret...but I'm trying to be frugal and they only had it in green. I examined the hat and determined that I could easily knit one out of a better color...

I was mistaken.

I unraveled a shawl I had knit last year because I loved the yarn but NEVER wore the shawl (perfect for a photo shoot out on the moors but you can't actually move your arms while wearing the dang thing so it sat in a basket all year).

It turns out that what I can knit is a sad looking toque.

The ugly "no pattern" wool cap I made.

Okay, I could have...er...should have used a pattern as my knitting-spatial-relation skills are decidedly lacking.

So I looked online (thank God for Lion's Brand Yarn free patterns) and found one that didn't look too hard.

The evil heavy metal double pointed needles

At least it wasn't hard until I got to the "can't use the nice circular needles anymore" stage. Those double pointed needles are specially coated with an extra slippery blue metal that is heavier than normal metals and so are sucked to the ground almost magnetically (just imagine a substance the exact opposite of what would be suitable for space flight).

They slid out of the cap so many times the dogs stopped sitting in my lap for fear of puncture (or maybe my cussing scared them away - I'm not sure).

But the final result was worth it...I think...look...a lovely mass of turquoise and navy.

It was a bit like putting a sweat sock on my head...so I went back online to read the pattern again...I'd done everything they said to do.

Then I caught sight of the pattern reviews and started reading. Aha! It turns out you have to block the darn thing to give it the beret shape. One reader advised using a dinner plate.

So I placed a dinner plate upside down on another serving plate and that helped the edges but it still had that pointed toque like top that I've grown to hate.

So I wet it down and placed a heavy object to weight it.

Finally the poochy part in the center lay flat!

And it fits perfectly!

Even though the boys don't seem to notice my stylish chapeau...

Taking Frugal Too Far...

When we left San Diego, I knew there were things I was going to miss - family, friends, perfect weather, shops, and...my hair dresser.

Erin was and is an amazing artist with hair. She's an organic color specialist and owns her own shop on the 101. We met ten years ago during my last home color experiment.

I'm sure it's no surprise to you that I color my hair - left on a desert island I would have the perfect camouflage - assuming the island was lush with mousy-brown-mixed-with-grey foliage...maybe one of those rocky islands - less palm trees more granite.

Ten years ago I was combating the mousy brown by inserting blond highlights. I must not have been too bad at it because no one said anything and one friend even asked if I would do her hair.
We were co-teaching so had become as close as sisters so coloring each other's hair was a natural offshoot...except the results were anything but natural-looking!

I resembled a sepia-colored skunk when we were finished. My co-teacher was in tears over the state of my head - I was just anxious to get it fixed before school on Monday.

I went to the nearest salon and the guardian angel of hair color disasters had noticed me (no doubt because of my skunky blond stripe) and made Erin work that Sunday.

She had me fixed up fast and didn't even laugh (at least not in front of me) and I became a loyal client.

Now that we've moved to AZ driving 250 miles for a hair appointment that costs $120 is beyond my unemployed budget...however, Erin has become a dear friend and so gave me explicit instructions on how to buy, mix, and apply color to my own head.

She also made me promise to call her when I was ready to do it for tech support. Which I did...

I have learned:

1. It's normal for hair color to have no color when it's first mixed.

2. It's also normal for it to stain everything it touches which is why a cape would have been smart to wear.

3. It's mostly normal for it to itch like crazy when it touches your skin which it's not really supposed to touch.

4. I have no natural ability at beauty treatments and would surely flunk out of cosmetology school if they were stupid enough to accept me in the first place.

5. I don't look good in plastic wrap and may have frightened Dave (who knew he could squeal like a girl?)

Plastic wrap is not my best look

The first coloring went okay - except I didn't use enough color so it didn't really cover the grey.

The second coloring went better because part way through I got to slather it all over my head so that hides the "line" of new growth or in my case the "crappy color application line".

So today was time #3 and you would think I would have gained some skills...or some sense....

So I didn't actually have enough color left in the tubes for the original formula Erin gave me...but it's all fractions right?

I can do fractions - heck I used to teach fractions - how hard could it be?

So I used some scratch paper, calculated the ratios (2 color tubes and the developer) and set to realizing that maybe it was Sherril who did all the fraction teaching...sigh.

I worked a little longer attempting to find the ratio between 1 1/2, 2 1/2 and 4 oz so I could scale it back to teaspoons when I discovered that the reason I had less color in one tube than the other was because it represented the middle amount not the smallest...sigh.

So I gave up on the fractions, and just tried to guesstimate the amounts...and then I painted it on my head...nervously.

More lessons learned:

1. It's harder to paint on hair than you would think.

My hair sticks to the brush and then gets EVERYWHERE!

2. It's harder to put plastic on your head than you think.

3. It's harder to rinse your hair in the kitchen sink than I thought.

Erin had said, "Get Dave to help rinse your hair...taking this pic was all he was willing to do..."

4. Dave was no help - but I think I knew that before I started.

5. Praying works.

Counter to popular opinion

I like our kitchen - I do. The light cabinets and the black granite look nice...in pictures anyway. Up close, it's clear that someone ran out of of money and chose granite tile instead of actual granite slabs...anything's better than Formica.

Our kitchen when we bought the house

Up close you can see how the edge of the tile is sharp - but at least I can put a pot down anywhere I want to, right?

We added drawer pulls

The real problem in this project isn't even part of the kitchen - that I've learned to live with. The real problem is my laundry room.

Given the fact that our driveway is steep (imagine feeling like you are ready to launch on Space Mountain when you turn into our drive) no one parks in the driveway - everyone parks in the garage...which means everyone enters the house through our garage and laundry room.



The official "before" picture



Short of completely remodeling our house (not that I am against this but Dave is dragging his feet on the subject), I needed to do something to make the laundry room more attractive and welcoming.

A counter over the washer and dryer is the obvious solution but granite is out of the question. Not only is it too expensive but the counter has to be easily removable should we need to access the plumbing behind the washer.

The easy answer was a granite-look Formica top...I can't believe how good they look these days.

Stock Formica comes in 3 colors in 3 lengths

I picked the one on the far right in an effort- for $65 I am getting closer to a nicer entryway...except that the Formica has to be cut to fit...now cutting Formica isn't super hard but the danger of chipping is significant. Some experts suggest masking tape and a jigsaw to make the cut - assuming you can cut straight...which I can't.

The only way I have of ensuring a straight cut is using the table saw. So I convinced Dave that we could make the cut if we were very, very careful. The Formica is heavy so it was a two person task and required repositioning the counter three times to cut the various turns.

I was petrified the entire time we were cutting. We had to remove the guard on the table saw so the potential for kickback was great. Luckily, Dave has a steady hand and we made it through unscathed (as did the Formica thankfully). Even then we had to make the final cut of the backsplash using the chop saw. It took us 45 minutes of set-up, discussion and practice runs to complete that single cut. Phew!

A few baskets for soaps and an old jar for loose change makes it clear that it's still a laundry room - just nicer than before.

 The result is cleaner and much more welcoming than it had been. And it's easy to lift the counter if we need to access the hook-ups. 

The counter doesn't go all the way to the way but it leaves space for the hook-ups and the integral backsplash keeps things from falling off the back



For those of you with eagle-eyes - yes, you are right the washer is black (to match the kitchen appliances) and the dryer is blue (to match...er...nothing!). I ordered black but they brought me blue...they said they would return it but it would take 3-4 weeks. So I kept it as is (we were desperate to wash bedding) and can now joke about doing laundry until I'm black and blue.