The Evolution of a Frame.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, I had a square frame to cover in spring flowers for an easy door decoration. It sat around the living room until winter became spring and spring became summer. By then one frame had also become three. Funny how things like that just happen around here. 

Since spring had long ago sprung and summer was in full glare, I turned away from spring flowers to thoughts a little more summer-ish in nature. 

I wanted something beachy looking and not as bright as my last few summer decor projects had been. After happening upon the perfect background paper, all it took was spending an obscene amount of time on the computer finding the graphics. Most of them came from one of my favorite places to spend time online The Graphics Fairy. Without her this would have been a sad looking project indeed. A few came from another website (or 2?) and a page of matching tags from the Beach House line by Bazzill from which the background paper also originated.

 We won't talk about how long it took me to size, print, cut, re-size, re-print, re-cut and re-organize these before I got them right. Seriously, the pile of stuff that didn't make the cut was alarming in it's size and let's just say we all had to eat standing up in the kitchen for more than a day or two due to the fact that the dining room table was more than a little occupied. 

A few wiped on coats of paint later and here is the result. 

The frames are graduated in size starting at 12" and ending at 10". They also cost 5 bucks all together. Don't you just love thrift stores? 

The 12 incher 

Actually the 10 incher

 

That leaves this one coming in at 11 inches square if you're keeping track. Also the one to go in the middle of the grouping, hence the different background.

Linking to

 Brag Monday

Show it off Monday

Not so Magical Mike

I just got back from seeing the movie Magic Mike. If you don't know what that is, you need to watch more television or spend more time on Pinterest. Possibly I need to do less of both. Potato, potahto. Anyway, it's that "stripper movie" that came out a week ago. 

 I'm kind of surprised that I found it a little boring.

 It may be the fact that I am goose-stepping my way to old age at an alarming rate but after the first few stripping sequences, I found myself wishing somebody would pay as much attention to the trite story line as they did to coming up with one more way we could see some poor woman with a guy's junk in her face (seriously, if I went to a strip club and somebody did to me what they do in the movie, I would punch him in the nuts and take my dollar bills to 7-11) or giving Channing Tatum another chance to prove he really can dance better than all of the other naked men milling around. 

 I know. You're thinking, "Come on Granny pants. You went to see a rated R movie about male strippers. Were you really expecting something else?".

 Truthfully, no.

 But I didn't expect to be bored at a movie that has that much naked man flesh. Some of it even good flesh. I swear Joe Manganiello probably has to turn sideways to fit those shoulders through any doorway. I even told Emily (when I was convincing her it was a good idea to spend 7 bucks on this thing) that it didn't matter how the plot went because it couldn't be anything but a fun time. Huh. Turns out, not so much.

Maybe I really have aged out of this kind of thing but I really don't think that's it.

 I blame Steven Soderbergh for thinking that anyone going to a movie about MALE strippers wants to see ANY girl's boobs, let alone multiple sets. I do not by any means consider myself to be a prude and maybe I shouldn't be such a raging hetero in this age of enlightenment; but as a whole I find topless girls to be generally uninteresting. Too many at once and it moves into the tiresome category.  Especially when nearly every girl in the movie needed to be force fed a double cheeseburger and a large shake. No kidding. 

If Steven Soderbergh thought he could get away with such a shallow plot because we wouldn't notice what was going on in between the shirtless scenes; he forgets that women (unlike men) can use their brains AND be turned on at the same time.  

Now, don't get me wrong. The movie wasn't a total loss. You know I'm the kind of girl that tries to turn every negative into a positive. Every experience is a chance to learn in my book. Even badly done nakey nakey movies. 

Here's what I learned from Magic Mike:

1-The math: for every 5 strippers there will be 1 with a conscience and a heart of gold.

2-Any girl that would date (read sleep with) a stripper is a skanky slut. Conversely, good girls are a little uptight about their bodies and wouldn't dream of dating a male stripper.

3-19 year old boys are soulless little punks incapable of making anything resembling a good decision. Ever.

4-An old stripper is no better than a pimp. And possibly a little more money grubbing than one too.

5-Any woman that goes to a strip show wants nothing more than to be dry humped on stage.

6-To be a stripper you must take drugs or sell them. Or both.

7-97% of women that go to see male strippers are very well dressed and thin. 

8-Channing Tatum really can dance but most of the time it's stupid dancing that looks more like a well choreographed spaz attack.

9-It doesn't matter what kind of shape you're in, wearing a banana hammock looks stupid. Not sexy. Period. Any woman that says different is lying through the teeth she has been gritting to keep from giggling at the spectacle.

10-Matthew McConaughey should never ever be seen in nothing more than a g-string. Never. I know the guy is in good shape for his age and all but I couldn't tell if he did his own dancing or if they had brought in a slab of beef jerky to be his body double. 

11-I should have watched this on DVD so that I could have just fast forwarded to the first few stripper parts and sent it back.

        

It's a baby! (book)

The following are pictures of the mini book that was promised to my sister when my newest niece Samantha (aka chumba wumba) was born.   

SIX MONTHS AGO! 

Okay, in my defense, I couldn't make it without the pictures of the baby because I have a few sisters that can't be trusted to actually put pictures in the book after you've made it so it has to be done for them. Samantha's Mom is one. The other sisters' live around here and can be bullied into it if needs be. Since this  book is being shipped off to California, leaving it blank and hoping for the best was not an option. 

Aaaand then there was the whole problem with the fact that I had other paper destined for this but, well, Graphic45 brought out this line and it was back to the drawing board. Since the chance of needing to make another baby book in the near future is pretty much nil, I had to go for it. Didn't I?

Ahhh, justification. My dear old friend. 

Now, if it had turned out the way I meant it to instead of the way it did, I'd feel better about that whole midstream horse switch I seem to always find so darn irresistible Oh well. If we both keep our mouths shut, Samantha and her mom will be none the wiser...

Reasons

Outside of the obvious first class ticket to Hell that has my name all over it, there are a few more reasons why it's good I don't go to church all that often. One of them is that I might actually feel the need to think anything but horrible thoughts about the girl that hit the boys with her car last December. Or, possibly try to forgive her instead of laying in bed wishing that leprosy was more prevalent in America.

As I sit here, shaking with frustration after shooting off yet another email to her insurance company, it's pretty easy to keep Jiminy Cricket locked in his little cage. Yes, I said last December. Every 4-6 weeks it's another round of bills they haven't properly paid landing at my doorstep. Then it's a round of phone tag with the odious woman that handles the medical claims at Mutual of Enumclaw, the awful insurance company that this particular floozy had when she decided her phone was more important than looking at where she was driving her car. It's the way they have handled this situation that makes me start to look at accident lawyers differently. I REALLY don't want the particular set of complications a lawyer brings but it's almost like insurance companies want to push people into hiring one out of self preservation. Let me tell you, the temptation gets greater by the day.

Emily had the misfortune to come over on a day when I was particularly fed up with this mess. She had the idea to look the cheap hussy up on Facebook. I told her not to bother. We wouldn't be able to look at anything even if we did find her. Boy was I wrong. There she was in all her splendor. Not even smart enough to not have every single thing on her profile completely open to the viewing public. We went all the way back to the week of the accident and...nothing except pictures of her super new haircut!! and she's now engaged!!!. I don't know what I was expecting but it would have helped if she had put up a status update to the effect of, "I am a shallow brainless idiot that just hit 2 boys in a crosswalk because I totally suck and actually feel bad about it". Maybe this and the fact that Thomas is still struggling with the damage he sustained on his right side, means I sit here with fantasies (among others) involving disfiguring skin conditions and major natural disasters popping up on her wedding day and/or having her get hit in a cross walk by an uninsured motorist. I want her to have at least double the misery we have had to endure the last 6 months. In all honesty, at this point in the game she could be the Mother Teresa of northern Utah and I will still want to punch all her teeth out and feed them to her for what she carelessly did to my babies.  

I know I know. Bitterness and hatred corrodes the soul, Karma can be a bitch and all that rot. I soooo don't care anymore. I'm willing to be a bitter, evil old crone in Hell if I get to take this chick and all of the blood suckers at Mutual of Enumclaw with me. 

Blue and Yellow. Sort of.

Unable to shake the feeling of being at the bottom of a giant creative hole, I decided to get on board another challenge. Operation Write Home's Midweek Throw Down again as a matter of fact. This one was to use yellow and blue as your main colors. Proving once again that I follow directions about as well as a particularly rebellious alley cat. 

Had been dying to use this (among the other gazillion)
from one of my favorite blogs
The Graphics Fairy
but the yellow kept tripping me up.
 It still doesn't match the picture in my head.

Try as I might, just couldn't resist the orange.

Just do me this one favor, okay?

I may have mentioned before how much I love P.G. Wodehouse. However, I think it may have always been in the context of  expressing my love for Fry and Laurie's Jeeves and Wooster.

 How foolish of me.

I have been a fan of the Jeeves books forever but it wasn't until last year that I discovered all of Wodehouse's other works. It started with an audio version of The Adventures of Sally and snowballed into what could be almost be called an obsession. 

The man was genius with a capital G and several exclamation points behind.

 I just finished Something Fresh and am bowled over by his absolute mastery of words. Forget about the fact that P.G. Wodehouse is always funny without being mean or crude. No small feat if you consider the sheer number of books he managed to publish. His perfect use of language is mind boggling. In the second clip below Stephen Fry calls him "a Lord of Language" and that about sums up why you should be gobbling up his books. If you love (or just like) words, Wodehouse is your man. Even when they're not laugh out loud funny, they're so well written that any of his books are pure pleasure. The incomparable Stephen Fry puts it better here than I could in a million years.
Stephen Fry on P. G. Wodehouse

Now, I am a big proponent of, "if you CAN read it, you SHOULD" but am not averse to a nice audio book now and then. They really do make long, tedious tasks like housework or canning feel easier and they definitely shorten long drives. In a good way. In the case of P.G. Wodehouse it's a toss-up as to which delivery system is the most pleasing. If you get the right narrator for the audio version, it almost makes the book better. My absolute favorite is Frederick Davidson. His delivery of some of the lines in Something Fresh  had my knees weak with laughter as I cleaned the kitchen last night. I get most of my audio books through my library (free, online and usually in my jammies. Can't beat that I tell you!). You probably could too. 

So, if you have or haven't read P.G Wodehouse before, get to reading. Right now. Take Stephen Fry's suggestion and try Carry On, Jeeves or Something Fresh if you don't know where to start . Then come back and watch this lovely documentary I found on YouTube and have posted here for your viewing pleasure. Or clear your schedule for an hour, watch it right now and then come back and watch it again later. 

You won't be sorry. 

(My sister Janene excluded of course.)

Birthday times are here again.

Missy McPrissy.

15 whole years today. 

A few pics of the wild celebrations and a few of my faves from the last few months.

Had to drag out of bed so that Dad could watch her open presents
before heading off  to the salt mines. Is it obvious?

Had B-Day cake at the park on Saturday because that's when the whole family
 could be there. Don't worry about the candles.
There's another one behind the big 9.
Check the math. 9+6=15.
 When it turns out we're down to
 the bottom of the birthday candle bag in
 the cupboard, that's how we roll

Yes. 2 cakes. This one with mint frosting. Which was obviously too
 much for Aunt Annie's self control.
That, or Turner smelled like Dr. Pepper.

The irresistible dinosaur hat from the dollar store
made for a smashing photo session.

She didn't know I was taking this. That's how Turner looks when
nobody is around.

This is what 15 looks like around here.
She took this one of herself.

Father's Day

Father's Day crept up on me this year. It struck me earlier this week that it's arrival was imminent and then that idea drained right out of the hole in my head until yesterday when it popped back in thanks to a nudge from my brother.  Unfortunately, not in enough time to mail anything to the Dad-In-Law residing in central California but, luckily (for me) my Dad went out of town and gave me an extra day to make this. I had decided to make this weeks ago for him because he is obsessed with airplanes.  Me being me, I of course waited until the last minute to make it even though the paper had been picked out about 10 minutes after the decision to make it. Oh, me.

  I was so happy with how well it turned out that I had to share it. I'm including it's back-up that I cut, didn't need, but decided to put together anyway because I loved the look of it almost better than the first. What you can't know just by these pictures is the propeller on the second actually moves. I'm like a five-year-old that way. It really does only take something that small to make me happy.

Here fishy fishy...

A few weeks ago we scratched something off of our to do list that's been there for years. We actually made it out and managed to get some fishing done on Free Fishing Day a few weeks ago. Didn't get any fish but that's only part of the fun anyway. 

Started out up American Fork Canyon by the river...

...and ended up at Tibble Fork Reservoir.

This very cool picture isn't mine of course.
 The credit goes to Turner.

Ummm. Really.

Not the best picture of the kids but miraculous in the fact that nobody
has their eyes closed AND they're all looking at the camera
without making a horrible face.

Tom D. When the hell did he start looking older than 12?

I started messing with my camera and ended up with this being one
of the best pics I took all day. Too bad it wasn't of something more
 interesting than Turner's shoes.

Took this right after the one above. What a tragedy it
 would have been to not have any way to remember what
 brand Turner's rig was. I think at this point the sun was
 affecting my brain.

It's Official!

This is the first year all of the principal participants in our Annual Last Day of School Thingy (official title ) haven't been in the same school district. We were the stragglers and actually had to have this year's get together 5 days before we actually got out of school. Since I consider this the official first day of summer, I didn't even get pics of the kids on their actual last day. I suck.  

Anna, Turner, Nattie and Brianna.
Three 14-year-olds and a 16-year-old.
 It's like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse lounging
around the pool in swimwear.

Gabrielle was the only one that didn't leave their clothes in a pile
and run for it. Gee. I wonder to whom she might be related.
For the record, she was sans hat when she did finally jump in.

Thanks to the very uncooperative sun (see Anna's squint above),
this quickly turned into the best angle for good pics.

A very drippy Aiden boy.

Miss Olivia.
 If you only knew how many wasted shots and
threats it took to get this.

Grumpy just-up-from-his-nap Ray and his way more patient than me Mom.

Dan and the most stellar tank top farmers tan
this side of the Continental Divide.

Taela. How blissful is the look on this little fish's face?

Amanda in blue with her BFF whose name I am not even about to try and spell.

Nate and Carrie. The best thing is the look of extreme unconcern on Emily's face as her son
is apparently preparing to take a bite out of Carrie. Yes that's my shadow.
Pretty much about all of me anybody needs to see. Trust me.

CHICKEN FIGHT!

Suz and Kallie. AKA the Nerd Patrol.

"So, uh, okay, did you hear the one about the Blonde that tried to
visit Disneyland..."