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Another Big Bite

Another Big Bite

Category Archives: The Good Ole Days

There’ll be scary ghost stories and tales from the glories of Halloweens long, long ago…

28 Tuesday Oct 2014

Posted by anotherbigbite in Nerd Alert, The "Joy" of Parenting, The Good Ole Days

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

brave, costumes, disneyland, diy, family, halloween, halloween costume, kids, merida, sewing, traditions, yeti

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I could easily be listening to the song “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year” on repeat right now.  Not because I am excited that Christmas is sneaking up on me like a White Walker.  Not because I particularly enjoy Amy Grant (truth be told, her version grates on my nerves like nothing else at Christmastime – you know what I mean, Mom).  Because THIS is the most wonderful time of the year.  HALLOWEEN.

Last year, we had the best Halloween costumes EVER.  This year, I knew there wouldn’t be any way to top them.  The kids are getting older (and so are Nae and I), and getting everyone on board for one cohesive theme is… Difficult.  Which is fine.  Pretty soon, Nathan and I will be left to our (my) own devices and we’ll get to choose what to go as together since neither of us wants to dress up as a Skylander or something from Monster High.  But for now, the kids are into the things we expose them to and don’t take notice of much else.  Not having cable – not having commercials – really cuts down on the crazy shit they regurgitate from television.

Finn at the Matterhorn

Since our trip to Disneyland this summer, Finn’s Yeti obsession kicked into overdrive and he firmly decided that he would be a Disneyland Matterhorn Yeti (not to be super specific or anything).  After balking at the cost of faux fur, I opted to stick with a white hoodie with a fur hood, gloves and boots.

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And (obviously) Nathan had to be a Yeti as well.  It was either that or a mountain climber.  Not some high-speed 2014-era adrenaline junkie, but a 1950’s, Swedish, Riiiiiiiiccccccooooooolllaaaaaaa-yodeling dude in Lederhosen.  Yeti it was.

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Oh, and the eyes HAD TO GLOW.  Because they do on the ride.  And we are all about authenticity in this family.

Alice in Scottish Highlands

I did a little happy dance when Alice picked Merida from Brave.  I was dreading making that stupid Elsa cape, but a Halloween miracle occurred and she burned out on singing “Let it Go” and watching Frozen daily sometime in July.  Merida – or “Orange Mother” as Alice refers to her – is a bow-and-arrow-toting badass compared to Elsa and Anna.  Brave centers on the struggle between her and her mother (who she has turned into a bear), so when Alice proclaimed that I was to be “Orange Mother’s Mother” I had a slight panic attack over twenty thousand yards of green taffeta and me in a floor-length gown with bell sleeves.  Queen Elinor?  Christ.  Here we go.

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Not to worry.  Alice wanted me to be the bear.  Orange Mother’s Mother as a bear.  Black hoodie?  Check.  Furry ears?  Check.  Crown?  Check.  Orange Mother’s Mother as a bear? Done.  Waaay easier than Alice’s Merida dress.  Which only took me a week and a half.  Only.

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Outtake alert.  Here is Alice “hunting yetis.”  Finn is not alarmed at all.  Which is somewhat worrisome when your kid doesn’t even flinch when someone is pointing a weapon at them.

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We went to Boo at the Zoo at Cheyenne Mountain Zoo.  We were fully prepared for pandemonium like last year, but it turns out that it is way less crowded two weeks before Halloween and we had more than enough time to do the whole lap twice.

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We went on the Skyride for the very first time.

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We went on the carousel for the fifty-seventh time.

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And thank god that everyone recognized who the kids were.  Not that anyone who complimented Finn on his Abominable Snowman costume was politely corrected by the little man himself.

“It is a Disneyland Matterhorn Yeti.  AND his eyes glow.”

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We also got to wear them to the grade school’s Trunk or Treat on Saturday.  And on Halloween on Friday.  After that, they go into heavy rotation via the costume/dress up pile where the kids will wipe peanut butter on them and roll around in the grass while wearing them.

But that’s not the end of our Halloween story.  Oh, no.  Here in Colorado Springs, the population is a wee bit on the Jesus-loving side and lots of people don’t celebrate Halloween.  I am betting this has something to do with the bizzaro Halloween Costume/Celebration norms that have sprung up in Finn’s school.  The kids aren’t celebrating Halloween at all.  Sortof.  I dunno.  They are having “Literacy Dress Up Day,” in which a pre-approved list of (not-Halloween) costumes was passed out.  Spoiler: Yetis were not on the list.  Little Boy Blue was.  Georgie Porgie was.  Abe Lincoln was.

Whatever.

Which meant I had another costume to make.  And though I would never dream of buying a costume off the shelf, it isn’t like they have The Little Red Hen costumes at Walmart anyway.

I begged for Teddy Roosevelt.  “Round Glasses!  Mustache!  You could ride Alice’s stuffed moose!!”

Shot down.

“Oooohhh!  Three blind mice!  Mickey ears!  Sun glasses!”

Nope.

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In the end, Finn chose to be the grasshopper from Aesop’s Fable The Grasshopper and the Ants.  It took me some time to warm up to the idea, but it was more exciting than George Washington.

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And here is an action shot….

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(And Alice is quite smitten with it as well.)

(And Alice is quite smitten with it as well.)

I am bracing myself for the onslaught on post-Halloween cavities and looking toward Thanksgiving to fill the vacuum that Halloween has left in its wake.  Something tells me that construction paper pilgrim hats and handprint turkeys won’t give me the same thrill as fashioning fishing bobbers and battery-operated votives from Ikea into Yeti eyes.

But it will have to do until Amy Grant starts belting out, “its the MUUUOOOST wonderful time…. Of the YEAR” on the Christmas station.

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Fall at the Farm… In Pictures

23 Thursday Oct 2014

Posted by anotherbigbite in On the Road Again, Out of Doors, The "Joy" of Parenting, The Good Ole Days

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

apple picking, fall, family, farm, Iowa, pumpkin farm, Travel

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When my dear friend Tamara told me she and my brother were heading to Grandma Mary’s farm over Columbus Day weekend, we jumped at the chance to meet them halfway (well, two-thirds of the way) between here and Chicago.  I haven’t seen my brother Mike in a year and a half and since then, he and Tamara – one of my best friends and Finny’s godmother – started dating and are now living together.  I’ve been asked by a few people if I’m weirded out by this whole ordeal, and I never have been.  Mostly because it’s really none of my business what other consenting adults do, but also because I have loved these two people dearly forever; why would I not be happy if they were happy?

Turns out, these two are made for one another.  How did I never see this sooner??

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When my grandmother got wind of our little adventure, she was thrilled to have both Mike and I (and accompanying stowaways) at the farm at once.  Oh, did we plan our whole trip before we even asked Grandma if we could come?  Yeah… That would be Tamara and I…

The drive to Iowa is just under twelve hours from Colorado Springs, and the trip out there was mercifully uneventful.  We arrived around eleven at night (after losing an hour and leaving late in the morning) and Grandma Mary was waiting up for us.  The kids both woke up and Finny was wired with excitement over finally reaching the farm.  By midnight, they were tucked in and asleep and by one, the rest of us were dozing.

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Saturday turned out to be a gorgeous fall day; the sky was bright and clear and it was warm enough to go out without a coat.  Nathan had one objective for the day…  Teaching Finn how to shoot the BB gun.

Finny developed into a spectacular shot over the course of the day.  While the boys were shooting, Alice and Grandma took to moving plants into the greenhouse and picking flowers around the yard.  I can’t believe there is only about seventy years between these gorgeous ladies. 🙂IMG_0628

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After lunch, we decorated cupcakes….

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And went for a spin on the swing…

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Nathan and I headed into town for a few supplies.  The kids were in bed by eight, and at eight forty-five, Finn bounded down the stairs to announce, “Dad won’t get out of my bed.  He’s keeping me awake.”

Nathan had gone into the kids’ rooms to make sure they piped down and went to sleep.  He was snoring so loudly that Finn couldn’t sleep.  I coaxed him into our bed and Grandma and I waited for Mike and Tamara to arrive.

They arrived after ten thirty and we kept poor Grandma up chatting until one once again.  By the time the kids were up, she was already awake and getting breakfast ready.  We all got ready for church and headed into town.  I think the last time I was in church might have been when we were staying with Grandma two years ago…  Yikes.  The kids were super well-behaved and Grandma got to “show us off” (her words, not mine) to the congregation.

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After the boys went back out to shoot the BB gun again, we brought lunch out to them and got started picking apples.  Two and a half bushels later, we had cleared what was left of the red apples and barely made a dent in the green ones.  I ended up carting sixty pounds of apples back to Colorado and have been making apple sauce, apple pies and apple chips since we’ve been home.

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And we hunted for frogs down at the pond. Tam was (far and away) the most excited.

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And we hunted for frogs down at the pond.  Tam was (far and away) the most excited.

While Tam, the kids and I were nestled in the apple trees, the Nathan and Mike were shooting the heavy artillery.  We let Finn fire the rifle once, and Nathan had me shoot the shotgun a few times.  Holy crap, that thing can kick.  As it was, I was a much better shot with the rifle.

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And this might be the most Iowa photo of all time…

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We waited until Tamara had arrived in Iowa before hitting the pumpkin farm.  Since we’ve been kids, this girl LOVES herself a good pumpkin patch.  Case in point…

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And if I was to try to describe my brother to anyone, I might just have them look at this photo.  It is Mike, being Mike in the most Mike way possible.  Rolling around in a trough full of corn kernels.  We are of the same blood, him and me.

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We visited my grandfather’s grave before we tucked in for the evening.  There was a few tears, a few smiles and more laughs than should be appropriate in a cemetery.  We reminisced about the photo someone had snapped at the funeral of Mike furiously gesturing to his crotch.  What you should be asking is why on earth someone is taking candids at a funeral and NOT why my brother was in such a position… And why I was standing next to him laughing my ass off…  Maybe Mike and I really need a lesson in appropriate manners.  Sheesh.

It was sad to leave the next day.  Other than getting a flat tire just as we crossed over into Colorado, the trip was equally uneventful as the way out there.  And it just might have been the first time I wasn’t terribly excited to sleep in my own bed.

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On Loving Forgetful Jones – For a Decade

01 Tuesday Apr 2014

Posted by anotherbigbite in Being a Grownup, The Good Ole Days

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

anniversary, engagement, love, marriage, nathan, proposal

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Ohmygod.  He’s going to propose without a ring?  Seriously??

And when I think back on that story, I realize those two kids were twenty-two when it happened.  And that now they have two beautiful children, live in Colorado and aren’t quite as fit and firm as they were.  I don’t even know who those kids were anymore….  But at the same time, absolutely nothing has changed.

I find myself being a little retrospective this morning, seeing as how today marks an entire decade of official Nathan + Lisa.  Ten years ago, I was waking up uncharacteristically calm.  It felt that even though it was our big day, things weren’t really going to change that much.  To be frank, a marriage certificate didn’t change anything.  In our case, change came gradually.  We moved across the country a few times, bought a few houses and popped out a few heirs to the throne of our kingdom, and before we had time to count how many pairs of Abercrombie & Fitch jeans we had outgrown, we were adults.

But six months before we got married; the night Nathan proposed, I knew Nathan would always be, well… Nathan.  We were on vacation with my family in Disney World, watching the fireworks; seemingly the perfect time and place to propose, and I knew the ring was a thousand miles away in Nae’s bedside table.  We had already set a date, put down a deposit and bought the ring.  I asked Nathan to propose for real, though…  I was in my early twenties and being proposed to was a right of passage as monumental as going to prom or getting your period.  In short; I was being ridiculous.  (So again; nothing has changed, though now I have the wisdom to realize how obnoxious I’m being at that very moment and can try to temper myself as best as possible.)

We departed for that vacation at four a.m., and try as I might, there was no shaking Nathan from his grogginess.

“You sure you haven’t forgotten anything?” I asked pointedly.  “Maybe you want to bring your silver rings with you?  Did you get your watch from the nightstand?”

Nope.  He was good.

As Nathan walked out the front door of our apartment, I took one last look in the nightstand.  There it was.  And Nathan was leaving without it.  So be it.

That scenario was replaying in my head as Nae got down on one knee at Epcot.  He is going to efiing propose with no ring.  He will never change.  This is going to be my life for the next sixty-

And there was the ring.

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No matter how much of the wedding we had already planned; no matter the fact that we were already calling ourselves “fiancées,” I was surprised…  And I cried a little, not only because I was supposed to (which I did – I was twenty-two, remember?) but because I was excited.  A new chapter of my life was going to start.

Nathan had forgotten the ring.  He enlisted a little help from one of our friends and my grandmother (who owned the building we lived in).  Grandma Toni let our friend Will into the apartment to get the ring.  We had cleaned the apartment before we left but never did get around to doing the dishes.  After helping with the dishes at Grandma’s behest (poor, poor, Will), Will got a package ready to be FedEx’d to Orlando.  I was made sure to be otherwise occupied when it arrived at our hotel room and I never did question my brothers’ oddly staunch resolve to get to the fireworks on time.  After being told by the hotel bus driver that he was only “going to garage,” all of us ran the mile to Downtown Disney only to find there weren’t any busses to Epcot.

After hoofing it from a nearby hotel, we all arrived as the fireworks started; out of breath and sweat poring from our bodies.  A few minutes later, Nathan and I were officially engaged.

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And on April Fool’s Day, ten years ago, we started the next chapter of our lives.  Turns out the next chapter was much like the previous one; just with new jewelry.  As much as Nathan and I have changed, we are still those kids that forget engagement rings and are worried about being proposed to without a ring.  I can always count on Nae to be totally predictable one minute and pull a surprising victory from his ass ten seconds from the buzzer.  Our ten years is a testament to this; real love isn’t love without faults.  It is love despite them.  (Heaven knows how he has put up with mine this long.)

This whole post can be summed up with one sentence, really.  Nathan will always be Nathan.  And I love him for it.

Love you, Nae.  Here’s to ten more. 🙂

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The Hunt for Rad October

12 Thursday Sep 2013

Posted by anotherbigbite in Nerd Alert, Party Hearty, The "Joy" of Parenting, The Good Ole Days

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

baby wonder woman costume, costumes, diy costumes, halloween, jessica and roger rabbit, robot costume, roger rabbit costume, wonder woman costume

Holy crap.  It is halfway through September.  Where does the time go?  Many a year ago, I would turn the page on the calendar to August, and one word would cross my mind…

Halloween.

I would plan costumes in August, hunt for supplies in September and assemble in October.

I love Halloween.

You see, I’m tremendously geeky, yet not so geekish that my geekdom requires me to fashion and don costumes the other 364 days each year a-la Comic Con or Dragon Con, or ComicCon Con, or whatever other Con you can think of.  I wish I had that much free time and capital.  So my creativity gets channeled into one day.

Nathan used to fight me tooth and nail about Halloween.  I would beg him all year round to fulfill my costume fantasies – not THOSE kind of costumed fantasies, because lets face it; dressing up as Mystery Incorporated (The Scooby Doo gang) isn’t sexy in the least.  Unless maybe you dress up like Daphne.  But I’m no Daphne, and Nathan is neither Fred nor Shaggy.

Pre-kids as Jessica and Roger Rabbit

Pre-kids as Jessica and Roger Rabbit

One year, he caved.  Jessica and Roger Rabbit.  Costume success.  Though many of the younger party-goers had no idea who we were.  After the Rabbits, the seal had been broken, and we ushered in matching troll dolls, Ghostbuster characters and the cast of Toy Story…  (You can see our Halloween yearbook here.)

Now I have two kids – hence zero time for planning ahead.  Last year worked out pretty well.  Finn now has 89% control over what he’ll be, though I have total veto-power.  Alice went as Wonder Woman and her costume was adorable.  But as many ten-month-olds, she had little hair at the time and looked more like a random patriot once it was on.

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Finn chose to be a robot, and I’ll be damned if I let an opportunity to bedazzle something with twinkle lights pass me by.  His costume was off the fa-shizzle.  (Or whatever the hip cats of today are saying.)

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A few years back he was Spiderman – this year he wanted to be Spidey again, but I urged him to think of something a little more original (something that allowed me to selfishly spread my creative wings beyond stitching miles of webbing into polar fleece again).  He came up with Venom, wich is really just an all-black Spiderman.  I begged him to be Jack Skellington.  He would have none of that.  How cute would this have been??

Finally, he decided to be a Minion.

And Nathan is going to be Gru.  (or as Finny puts it, MR. Gru.)

Actually, other than a scarf, Nathan is pretty much a dead-ringer for Gru. The nose is a little off – maybe.

As for Alice and I, I’ve decided to make an executive decision and make her costume soley based on something I’ve always wanted to be.  Next year, she would never allow me to choose for her.  Instead of a super cute My Little Pony, I’m going to be an asshole and dress the two of us up as something so obscure and Disney-World-Epcot-1980s-Nerd-Alert that even I am having second thoughts.

NO.  Not Michael Jackson/Capitan EO – Jiminy, I’m not that weird.  My studded, white leather jacket and rainbow tee will have to live in storage for yet another year.

These guys.  Alice can hate me later.

Dreamfinder and Figment from Journey into Imagination, a ride that is now somewhat defunct at Epcot (only Figment is still around), but is such an endearing part of my childhood that I cannot resist.  No, I am NOT wearing a beard.  Again – I’m not THAT weird.

This weekend, while Nathan is hopefully finishing Finn’s bed (rock holds came in today, yippee!!), I’ll be cutting up old pairs of jeans and scouring Goodwill for a navy blue blazer. I’ll be swearing at my sewing machine and berating myself for buying too much lilac fabric.  And I’ll be scouring the internet for a reasonably priced top hat – since I’m cool like that.

What are you all up to for Halloween?  Any ideas yet?  Please tell me that you are not going to dress your three-year-old daughter in a Snow White/hooker costume from Party City, are you?

Or let me know (gently) that no one else cares about Halloween besides me and the pop-up Halloween stores on September 12th.

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A Tiny Little Labor of Love

31 Wednesday Jul 2013

Posted by anotherbigbite in I'm a Crafty Mo' Fo', The Good Ole Days

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

American girl dolls, grandma, kirsten, miniatures, polymer clay

Very rarely, someone does something for you that is so significant, so awesome; so unexpected that you can’t just send them a thank you card and flowers.  You need a way bigger THANK YOU.

Or a way teeny-tinier “thank you.”

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This is my Grandma Mary.  She’s the bees knees.  She’s the lady in need of a way better “thank you.”

A little bit of a back story…  If you’ve been following along, you might remember that my grandmother, THIS grandmother, spent months making every stitch of clothing and hunting down accessories to accompany the greatest Christmas present I ever received when I was ten; Molly, my American Girl doll.  She didn’t just get me a doll and an entire wardrobe; she got/made THREE of them – one for each of her granddaughters.

Oh, god… Is EVERYTHING about American Girl dolls these days?  Even I need a break.

Grandma Mary was sort-of synonymous with dolls for me as a child; she had an entire room filled with them (the “Pink Room,”), spent lots of time restoring ones from her own childhood and introduced us chickadees to American Girl dolls.  I vividly remember sitting in the backseat of her car pouring over the first AG catalogue on a road trip to Iowa with her.  I must have been five.

Grandma is also Danish – which is definitely not Swedish like Kirsten, one of the original AG dolls, but it was close enough that my grandmother was partial to her…  Kirsten had an adorable little Saint Lucia outfit for Christmas; and Grandma had made her own Saint Lucia doll, modeled after Kirsten’s dress.  As a kid, I would fantasize about dressing up in a white nightgown and walking around with a wreath and blazing candles on my head.  My parents never would have lit anything I placed on my head on fire (intentionally)…  I always identified with Molly, the creative, slightly nerdy girl with glasses, but Grandma Mary?  She was totally a Kirsten.

After a legendary act of generosity this month, I was completely befuddled on how to thank my grandmother.  I was also on my way back from a birthday excursion to the American Girl Store when it hit me.  Grandma Mary needs an American Girl doll, too!!  She needs to have Kirsten!  This was a ridiculous idea because my grandmother is a grown woman; what is she going to do with a giant doll?  (Let’s ignore the fact that I had just lost my marbles when Nathan told me we were on our way to get a doll for my birthday.)  Also, they don’t make Kirsten anymore.  She was retired years ago, and you can’t just get someone ANY American Girl doll.  You have to get them their American Girl doll.

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But they do make all of the dolls in miniature, six-inch versions.  So we got Mini Kirsten.  Which is cute, but still kind of “thanks-for-buying-me-something”ish.  Mini Kirsten needed a mini Saint Lucia outfit.  And while I was at it, her mini accessories and a mini trunk to put her in.  Just like the big Kirsten had.  And so I set about trolling Hobby Lobby, Michaels and Joann Fabrics for supplies.  Which was a blast.  Then I set about cursing my will to live as I struggled with the teeny, tiny bonnet.  But after that was done, the rest was cake.

Just shoot me if Alice ever gets into Barbies.

Just shoot me if Alice ever gets into Barbies.

Let us play "Which One Doesnt Belong Here."  Two Christmas buns, a candle holder, heart bead, and an interesting monster head.  Humm...

Let us play “Which One Doesnt Belong Here.” Two Christmas buns, a candle holder, heart bead, and an interesting monster head. Humm…

I even got to break out the old polymer clay.  I have had it packed away for almost a decade, and I am way out of practice.  I found some interesting little project that had never been baked when I cracked it open – clearly the mighty have fallen.  Apparently I had gotten pretty good – although I’m not sure what kind of mood I must have been in to create that weird little head a decade ago.

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The trunk was my favorite part.  I found the perfect sized wooden box, glued on some tiny feet, took off the hardware, filled the holes, sanded and painted the whole shebang about three times and painted little flowers on it.  I am not a painter, my mom is.  It is a far cry from the tole painted chest that Kirsten came with.  This is not my strong suit.  Obviously.

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I packed her up and sent her off to Grandma Mary.  There was a little bit of a warm fuzzy in my heart when I realized my grandmother had done this same thing for me two decades ago (albeit on a much larger and more impressive scale).  Full circle.

I realize that this post might seem a little bit of “Oh! Look at me and see how awesome I am for spending all this time one something for someone else!  Aren’t I thoughtful?”  Yes, it was a lot of work.  But I wanted y’all to understand just how rad Grandma Mary is; and when you have someone in your life who is that special, you are well within your rights to go a little bit overboard.  Even if it is on an itty-bitty something that will probably live in a drawer and is of zero productive use to anyone.

Cheers to you, Grandma Mary!  (And thanks for playing the Grandma part well and telling me that you “love it.”)  Rock on with your bad self.

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