Wordless Wensday

Kitchen Tip Tuesday

Evaporated Milk.  That is my tip.  Well in part   Did you know you can use evaporated milk in everything you use regular milk in?

• Use equal parts evap milk and water (for example: 1/2 cup evap milk + 1/2 cup water = 1 cup milk)

• If you use a 5 oz can of evap milk (or a little less) instead of milk in mac & cheese, it comes out much creamier.

• I use evap milk in homemade mash potatoes as well.

• My dinner rolls and bread comes out much lighter when I use the half water/half evap milk.

Don’t forget to check out Tammy’s Recipes for more great tips!

A Pagan Yuletide Story

I found this today and just had to share! Enjoy!

Santa’s Wisdom Teachings
…A Pagan Yuletide Story

Five minutes before the Winter Solstice circle was scheduled to begin, my mother called. Since I’m the only one in our coven who doesn’t run on Pagan Standard Time, I took the call. Half the people hadn’t arrived, and those who had wouldn’t settle down to business for at least twenty minutes.

“Merry Christmas, Frannie.”

“Hi, Mom. I don’t do Christmas.”

“Maybe not–but I do, so I’ll say it.” she told me in her sassy voice, kind of sweet and vinegary at the same time. “If I can respect your freedom of religion, you can respect my freedom of speech.”

I grinned and rolled my eyes. “And the score is Mom -one, Fran – nothing. But I love you, anyway.”

People were bustling around in the next room, setting up the altar, decking the halls with what I considered excessive amounts of holly and ivy, and singing something like, “O, Solstice Tree.”

“It sounds like a…holiday party.” Mom said.

“We’re doing Winter Solstice tonight.”

“Oh. That’s sort of like your version of Christmas, right?”

I wanted to snap back that Christmas was the Christian version of Solstice, but I held back.

“We celebrate the return of the sun. It’s a lot quieter than Christmas. No shopping sprees, no pine needles and tinsel on the floor, and it doesn’t wipe me out. I remember how you had always worked yourself to a frazzle by December 26.”

“Oh honey, I loved doing all that stuff. I wouldn’t trade those memories for all the spare time in the world. I wish you and Jack would loosen up a little for the baby’s sake. When you were little, you enjoyed Easter bunnies and trick-or-treating and Christmas things. Since you’ve gotten into this Wicca religion, you sound a lot like Aunt Betty the year she was a Jehovah’s Witness.”

I laughed nervously. “Yeah. How is Aunt Betty?”

“Fine. She’s into the Celestine Prophecy now, and she seems quite happy. Y’know,” she went on, “Aunt Betty always said the Jehovah’s Witnesses said those holiday things were Pagan. So I don’t see why you’ve given them up.”

“Uh, they’ve been commercialized and polluted beyond recognition. We’re into very simple, quiet celebrations.”

“Well,” she said dubiously, “as long as you’re happy.”

Sometimes long distance is better than being there, ’cause your mother can’t give you the look that makes you agree with everything she says. Jack rescued me by interrupting.

Hi, Ma.” he called to the phone as he waved a beribboned sprig of mistletoe over my head. Then he kissed me, one of those quick noisy ones. I frowned at him.

“Druidic tradition, Fran. Swear to Goddess.”

“Of course it is. Did the Druids use plastic berries?”

“Always. We’ll be needing you in about five minutes.”

“Okay. Gotta go, Mom. Love you.”

We had a nice, serene kind of Solstice Circle. No jingling bells or filked-out Christmas Carols. Soon after the last coven member left, Jack was ready to pack it in.

“The baby’s nestled all snug in her bed,” he said with a yawn, “I think I’ll go settle in for a long winter’s nap.”

I heaved a martyred sigh. He grinned unrepentantly, kissed me, called me a grinch, and went to bed. I stayed up and puttered around the house, trying to unwind. I sifted through the day’s mail, ditched the flyers urging us to purchase all the Seasonal Joy we could afford or charge.

I opened the card from his parents. Another sermonette: a manger scene and a bible verse, with a handwritten note expressing his mother’s fervent hope that God’s love and Christmas spirit would fill our hearts in this blessed season. She means well, really. I amused myself by picking out every Pagan element I could find in the card.

When the mail had been sorted, I got up and started turning our ritual room back into a living room. As if the greeting card had carried a virus, I found myself humming Christmas carols. I turned on the classic rock station, but they were playing that Lennon-Ono Christmas song. I switched stations. The weatherman assured me that there was only a twenty percent chance of snow. Then, by Loki, the deejay let Bruce Springsteen insult my ears crooning, “yah better watch out, yah better not pout.” I tried the Oldies station. Elvis lives, and he does Christmas songs. Okay, fine. We’ll do classical ~ no, we won’t. They’re playing Handel’s Messiah. Maybe the community radio station would have something secular humanist.

“Ahora, escucharemos a Jose Feliciano canta `Feliz Navidad’.”

I was getting annoyed. The radio doesn’t usually get this saturated with holiday mush until the twenty-fourth.

“This is too weird.” I said to the radio, “Cut that crap out.”

The country station had some Kenny Rogers Christmas tune, the first rock station had gone from John and Yoko’s Christmas song to Simon and Garfunkel’s “Silent Night,” and the other rock station still had Springsteen reliving his childhood. “–I’m tellin’ you why. Santa Claus is comin’ to town!” he bellowed.

I was about to pick out a nice secular CD when there was a knock at the door. Now, it could have been a coven member who’d forgotten something. It could have been someone with car trouble. It could have been any number of things, but it certainly couldn’t have been a stout guy in a red suit–snowy beard, rosy cheeks, and all–backed by eight reindeer and a sleigh. I blinked, wondered crazily where Rudolph was, and blinked again. There were nine reindeer. Our twenty-percent chance of snow had frosted the dead grass and was continuing to float down in fat flakes.

“Hi, Frannie.” he said warmly, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’m stone cold sober, and you don’t exist.”

He looked at me with a mixture of sorrow and compassion and sighed heavily.

“That’s why I miss you, Frannie. Can I come in? We need to talk.”

I couldn’t quite bring myself to slam the door on this vision, hallucination, or whatever. So I let him in, because that made more sense then letting all the cold air in while I argued with someone who wasn’t there.

As he stepped in, a thought crossed my mind about various entities needing an invitation to get in houses. He flashed me a smile that would melt the polar caps.

“Don’t you miss Christmas, Frannie?”

“No.” I said flatly, “Apparently you don’t see me when I’m sleeping and waking these days. I haven’t been Christian for years.”

“Oh, now don’t let that stop you. We both know this holiday’s older than that. Yule trees and Saturnalia and here-comes-the-sun, doodoodendoodoo.”

I raised an eyebrow at the Beatles reference, then gave him my standard sermonette on the appropriation and adulteration that made Christmas no longer a Pagan holiday. I had done my homework. I listed centuries, I named names–St. Nicholas among them.

“In the twentieth century version,” I assured him, “Christmas is two parts crass commercialism mixed with one part blind faith in a religion I rejected years ago.” I gave him my best lines, the ones that had convinced my coven to abstain from Christmassy cliches. My hallucination sat in Jack’s favorite chair, nodding patiently at me.

“And you,” I added nastily,”come here talking about ancient customs when you–in your current form–were invented in the nineteenth century by, um… Clement C. Moore.”

He laughed, a rolling, belly-deep chuckle unlike any department-store Santa I’d ever heard.

“Of course I change my form now and then to suit fashion. Don’t you? And does that stop you from being yourself?” He said, and asked me if I remembered Real Magic, by Isaac Bonewits.

I gaped at him for a moment, then caught myself. “This is like `Labyrinth’, right? I’m having a dream that pretends to be real, but is only made from pieces of things in my memory. You don’t look a thing like David Bowie.”

“Bonewits has this Switchboard Theory.” Santa went on amiably, “The energy you put into your beliefs influences the real existence of the archetypal–oh, let me put it simpler: `in the beginning, Man created God’. Ian Anderson.”

He lit a long-stemmed pipe. The tobacco had a mild and somehow Christmassy smell, and every puff sent up a wreath of smoke. “I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than Bonewits tells it, but that’s close enough for mortals. Are you with me so far?”

“Oh, sure.” I lied as unconvincingly as possible.

Santa sighed heavily.

“When’s the last time you left out hot tea and cookies for me?”

“When I figured out my parents were eating them.”

“Frannie, Frannie. Remember pinda balls, from Hinduism?”

“Rice balls left as offerings for ancestors and gods.”

“Do Hindus really believe that the ancestors and gods eat pinda balls?”

“All right, y’got me there. They say that spirits consume the spiritual essence, then mortals can have what’s left.”

“Mm-hm.” Santa smiled at me compassionately through his snowy beard.

I rallied quickly. “What about the toys? I know for a fact they aren’t made by you and a bunch of non-union Elves.”

“Oh, that’s quite true. Manufacturing physical objects out of magical energy is terribly expensive and breaks several laws of Nature–She only allows us to do that on special occasions. It certainly couldn’t be done globally and annually. Now, the missus and the Elves and I really do have a shop at the North Pole. Not the sort of thing the Air Force would ever find. What we make up there is what makes this time a holiday, no matter what religion it’s called.”

“Don’t tell me,” I said, rolling my eyes, “you make the sun come back.”

“Oh my, no. The solar cycle stuff, the Reason For The Season, isn’t my department. My part is making it a holiday. We make a mild, non-addictive psychedelic thing called Christmas spirit. Try some.”

He dipped his fingers in a pocket and tossed red-gold-green-silver glitter at me. I could have ducked. I don’t know why I didn’t.

It smelled like snow, and pine needles, and cedar chips in the fireplace. It smelled like fruitcake, cornbread savory herbal stuffing, like that foamy white stuff you spray on the window with stencils. It felt like a crisp wind, Grandma’s hugs, fuzzy new mittens, pine needles scrunching under my slippers. I saw twinkly lights, mistletoe in the doorway, smiling faces from years gone by. Several Christmas carols played almost simultaneously in a kind of medley. I fought my way back to my living room and glared sternly at the hallucination in Jack’s chair.

“Fun stuff. Does the DEA know about this?”

“Oh, Frannie. Why are you such a hard case? I told you it’s non-addictive and has no harmful side effects. Would Santa Claus lie to you?”

I opened my mouth and closed it again. We looked at each other a while.

“Can I have some more of that glittery stuff?”

“Mmmm. I think you need something stronger. Try a sugarplum.”

I tasted rum ball. Peppermint. Those hard candies with the picture all the way through. Mama’s favorite fudge. A chorus line of Christmas candies danced through my mouth. The Swedish Angel Chimes, run on candle power, say tingatingatingating. Mama, with a funny smile, promised to give Santa my letter.

Greeting cards taped on the refrigerator door. We rode through the tree farm on a straw-filled trailer pulled by a red and green tractor, looking for a perfect pine. It was so big, Daddy had to cut a bit off so the star wouldn’t scrape the ceiling. Lights, ornaments, tinsel. Daddy lifted me up to the mantle to hang my stocking. My dolls stayed up to see Santa Claus, and in the morning they all had new clothes. Grandma carried in platters with the world’s biggest Christmas dinner. Joey’s Christmas puppy chased my Christmas kitten up the tree and it would have fallen over but Daddy held it while Mama got the kitten out. Daddy said every bad word there was but he kept laughing anyway. I sneaked my favorite plastic horse into the nativity scene, between the camels and the donkey.

I came back to reality slowly, with a silly smile on my face and a tickly feeling behind my eyes like they wanted to cry. The phrase “visions of sugarplums” took on a whole new meaning.

“How long has it been,” Santa asked, “since you played with a nativity set?-”

“But it symbolizes–”

“The winter-born king. The sacred Mother and her sun-child. Got a problem with that? You could redecorate it with pentagrams if you like, they’ll look fine. As for the Christianization, I’ve heard who you invoke at Imbolc.”

“But Bridgid was a Goddess for centuries before the Catholic Church-oh.” I crossed my arms and tried to glare at him, but failed. “You’re a sneaky old Elf, y’know?”

“The term is `Jolly Old Elf.’ Care for another sugarplum?” I did. I tasted gingerbread. My first nip of soy eggnog the way the grown-ups drink it. Fresh sugar cookies, shaped like trees and decked with colored frosting. Dad had been laid off, but we managed a lot of cheer. They told us Christmas would be “slim pickings.” Joey and I smiled bravely when Mama brought home that spindly spruce. We loaded down our “Charlie Brown Christmas Tree” with every light and ornament it could hold. Popcorn and cranberry strings for the outdoor trees. Mistletoe in the hall: plastic mistletoe, real kisses. Joey and I snipped and glued and stitched and painted treasures to give as presents.

We agonized over our “Santa” letters…by now we knew where the goodies came from, and we tried to compromise between what we longed for and they thought they could afford. Every day we hoped the factory would reopen. When Joey’s dog ate my mitten, I wasn’t brave. I knew that meant I’d get mittens for Christmas, and one less toy. I cried. On December twenty-fifth we opened our presents ve-ery slo-wly, drawing out the experience. We made a show of cheer over our socks and shirts and meager haul of toys. I got red mittens. We could tell Mama and Daddy were proud of us for being so brave, because they were grinning like crazy.

“Go out to the garage for apples.” Mama told us, “We’ll have apple pancakes.”

I don’t remember having the pancakes. There was a dollhouse in the garage. No mass-produced aluminum thing but a homemade plywood dollhouse with wall-papered walls and real curtains and thread-spool chairs. My dolls were inside, with newly sewn clothes. Joey was on his knees in front of a plywood barn with hay in the loft. His old farm implements had new paint. Our plastic animals were corralled in popsicle stick fences. The garage smelled like apples and hay, the cement was bone-chilling under my slippers, and I was crying.

My knees were drawn up to my chest, arms wrapped around them. My chest felt tight, like ice cracking in sunshine. Santa offered me a huge white handkerchief. When all the ice in my chest had melted, he cleared his throat. He was pretty misty-eyed, too.

“Want to come sit on my lap and tell me what you want for Christmas?”

“You’ve already given it to me.” But I sat on his lap anyway, and kissed his rosy cheek until he did his famous laugh.

“I’d better go now, Frannie. I have other stops to make, and you have work to do.”

“Right. I’d better pop the corn tonight, it strings best when it’s stale.”

I let him out the door. The reindeer were pawing impatiently at the moon-kissed new-fallen snow. I’d swear Rudolph winked at me.

“Don’t forget the hot tea and cookies.”

“Right. Uh, December twenty-fourth, or Solstice, or what?”

He shrugged. “Whatever night you expect me, I’ll be there. Eh, don’t wait up. Visits like this are tightly rationed. Laws of Nature, y’know, and She’s strict with them.”

“Gotcha. Thanks, Santa.” I kissed his cheek again. “Happy Holidays.”

The phrase had a nice, non-denominational ring to it. I thought I’d call my parents and in-laws soon and try it out on them.

Santa laid his finger aside of his nose and nodded.

“Blessed be, Frannie.”

The sleigh soared up, and Santa really did exclaim something. It sounded like old German. Smart-aleck Elf.

When I closed the door, the radio was playing Jethro Tull’s “Solstice Bells.”

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!

Author: Margaret Morrison

(Thanks for letting me know the author Mama Kelly!)

Long Hair Care

    I currently have the longest hair I have had since I was 12 years old.  When my hubby and I got back together almost 5 years ago I had a hair length of about 6 inches.  Yes 6 inches.  My hair is now currently past my bra. (any wonder how many blog hits I will get because of that word?   )

    These past few years I have learn a few tricks with dealing and taking care of long hair that I am going to share with you.

•      I currently wash my hair at the most of twice a week.  Over washing weakens my already damaged hair.

• I deep condition my hair once a month.  I use this: 
   It is a 3 minute masque that works wonders!
• Whenever I wash my hair I also use this:
   A nice leave in conditioner that makes my hair nice and smooth.  I even use it on Lil’ Miss’s hair after her bath to make her hair easier to brush – without having to worry about it getting in her eyes from rinsing.
  

• About every 3 months I change the brand of shampoo I’m using.  I go from cheap to more expensive.  I don’t run out of shampoo before I change, but I change brands to reduce the build up on my hair.  After a time all shampoos leave a residue on the hair, by changing brand (not just scent) you can remove old build up, cleaning your hair better.

• Rinse the conditioner out of your hair using as cold of water as you can.  The colder the better.  Your hair comes out shinier and smoother.  Really it does!
  

• NEVER, NEVER brush your hair while it is wet.  You will split and break your hair faster than ever.  If you must, comb your hair with a wide tooth comb.  It is much gentler on your hair.

    Here are some other tips I have found over time.  Some I’ve tried, others not yet.

1. Wash only the roots of your hair, and condition only the ends.  Reason:  The roots are the greasiest, a the ends are the driest. I must admit I’ve does this to a degree of success, but it does take a while to fully work.  You have to give your hair time to adjust

    2. Wash your hair with a paste of baking soda (equal parts of                 water and baking soda), rinsing with apple vinegar.

    3. Don’t wash your hair at all.  Just brush it mainly times from root to tip.  Remember the          Brady Bunch when Marsha was counting brushing her hair?  100 times for each side is         what she did.  There is some truth to that.  It takes the oils from the roots of your hair         down to the tips. I do a version of this, I just can’t NOT wash my hair.  Just can’t do it.

    I don’t blow dry my hair, but then again I’m a SAHM so I have time to let it air dry.  These tips are just what I’ve found to work with my hair.  You may have to tweak them to fit your hair and your lifestyle.  Nobody’s hair is the same as anyone else.  Although I must ask, Does anyone have a tip to help stop shedding?????? I swear I must be going bald with as much hair I lose brushing or washing my hair.  It’s everywhere!!!!

Mini Rant – What is a mom?

I’m going to do a little rant here.  I’m not going to name – names or anything like that but I’m pretty sure the person I’m going to rant about doesn’t know this blog exists so I feel safe venting here.

Onwards!

What makes a Mother – a Mom?

To me a mother is a woman who gives birth to a child.
A mom is a mother who takes care of a child.  Whether it is hers or not.  She takes the good and the bad.  The happiness and the sadness. The smiles and the tears.

To give birth to a child and not take care of that child is inconceivable to me.  I know there are situations where someone is incapable of doing so but the cause of my rant this is not so.  The person of my rant has 3 children, 3 year old twins (boy and girl) and a 1.5 year old boy.  She does not care for them, they live with their grandmother.  She does not send child support, she does not send diapers – she does not send anything but an occasional gift.  She sometimes visits them on their birthdays, and holidays – thus becoming “the cool mom”.  While the grandmother in this situation does not get the luxury of being “grandmom”.  She has to be the Mom of these children.

What annoys me is the mother boast frequently of how she loves being a mom.  If she was just trying the best for the children by having them live with the grandmother, it would be one thing – if she sent money back.  But she’s out partying, enjoying life – as if she never had kids.  I truly feel while she may love these kids, she’s not a mom.  Her mom is their mom.  I just don’t know.  It just frustrates me so!

Disclaimer:  Yes I know everyone, and every situation is different.  Yes I know there may be things I don’t know about this situation.  I fully accept this, which is why I vent here, instead of running my mouth off to the “mother” of this situation.  Although wish me luck because I’m going to her wedding in May.

The grandmother of this story does not get to be grandmom.  She has to be

Crafts I plan on doing

Who doesn’t like to do crafts?  Me, well I use to not like doing them.  I always had the little voice in my head going, “You can’t do it right so why even try?“  Well I’ve gotten over that little voice.  It started with crochet.

I got this little book here:

And taught myself to crochet.  I haven’t actually finished many projects yet but I do love to do it.  The projects I have finished, don’t actually stay in the house too long because I send them out in swaps or as gifts.  The main thing that does stay in the house is washcloths.  Hubby and I both agree, they are much, much better than the poufs.

From crocheting, I’ve started to dabble back into sewing.  Not a whole lot mind you but some.  The sewing machine is very handy for sewing purse linings.  I have a simple Brother brand sewing machine that was on sale at Wal-mart.  If I start to really get into sewing I may upgrade but my machine works for me now.  I have started to think about quilting but I want to wait until I have a rotary cutter and a mat.  Little by little.

I have as well started to bead a bit.  Mainly to make crochet stitch markers.  In crochet the stitch markers need to be removable unlike with knitting where they just need to be big enough to go around the knitting needles.  In the small kit I bought at Wal-mart, there came the findings for earrings.  So one thing led to another and I am currently making my MIL a pair of earring for Christmas.

I also dabble in embroidery and cross stitch.  I did more of this before I found crochet but I still do it once in a while.  I do dabble in a lot don’t I?

So those are the current crafts I do now.  Now here’s the list I want to at least try, if not keep doing:

Container Candles.

Duct Tape Roses.

Secret Poptop Cans.

Matchbox Drawers.

Soap.

I have big hopes and goals.  But I’m not rushing myself either.  I don’t want to spend lots and lots of money on different crafts and hobbies and then not have the time or the thrill to do them.  So I wait and bide my time until the deals on whatever I may need for any of the above crafts (doing or want to do) drop in my lap.

A plead for a blogger friend – Update!

Lisa over at The Domestic Diva has put out a plead for help. Her daughter was admitted back into the hospital for uncontrolled high blood pressure. Her daughter also needs a kidney transplant. This young girl has already had a liver transplant as an infant so she is even more hard to match with some one.

Please go here for more information. Please, Please repost, retweet ~ post everywhere this poor girl really needs our help!

Owwy!

Little background here, I have horrible teeth.  Always have, but since having my kiddos they’ve become worse.  At this stage I’m doing all I can to ease the pain until I have the insurance or the money to have all my teeth pulled and false ones put in.

Well last night was a killer.  Here I am laying in bed trying to sleep when all of the sudden my teeth decide it is time to hurt, and hurt they did.  So I get up to do a hydrogen peroxide rinse (equal parts water and hydrogen peroxide), and to put on my numbing paste,it’s actually for sore from dentures and braces but I use it because it works and stays put.  That usually works for me (with the added benefit of cleaner than normal teeth).   While sitting at the computer waiting for the paste to go to work, I must have shifted or swallowed and BAM!  Pain though the teeth.  My teeth are bad enough that some of them have exposed roots, and that paste + exposed roots = pain.  So I run back to the bathroom and do another hydro rinse to get all the paste off.  So now what do I do?  I’m in near tears because of the pain and I can’t find the Tylenol.  Well I come to the internet.  Here’s some of the home remedies I found and which one/s I used and how I rate them.

•  Chew a clove or apply clove oil to a cavity in a decayed tooth.  (I’ve used powder clove before, it works but not fully)

• Toothache is often alleviated by placing a small piece of onion on the affected tooth.  Or even eating an onion a day. (I tried this last night, I didn’t feel much pain reducing)

• Garlic clove when placed on the aching tooth provides immediate relief from pain. ( I almost tried this last night but then realized no garlic cloves!)

• Pouring few 3-4 drops of vanilla extract on the aching tooth will immediately provide relief. (I shuddered at this thought)

• Rinse with warm salt water. (Salt water whether it’s hot, cold or warm makes me puke.)

• Shot of rum or vodka, swish around and then hold as long as you can in the area of pain. ( Goddess be praised!!!  It worked!  It gets in all the little nook and crannies, and seeps into the gums and numbs it all!!!!)

Of course I know by the time the round of pain stops I will hate the smell and taste of vodka but at least my mouth doesn’t hurt.  And when my mouth doesn’t hurt, I’m not a grumpy momma, and the household likes that.

So what do you do for a toothache?

Back into the Swing of things

Well after the fun last week, it’s time to get back to homemaking! (the cheers you hear are completely sarcastic)

I hate keeping house but love a clean house so what’s a female to do?  Swing into it!  So here’s what I am currently trying to do.
1. Do dishes every morning and throughout the day.
2. Pick up after the kids go to bed, before I get to do anything “fun”
3. Do at least one load a laundry a day (which we have a dryer now! yay!)
4. Not sit at the computer all day! (this a big thing for me, I love me’s internet!)

This has gone a long way so far, I just hope to keep it up.

With the upcoming holidays I’ve been crafting up a storm.  I have a doll to make for my niece ~ I also want to make one from Lil’ Miss but I’m not pushing myself.  I have to figure out what to make/buy for my younger brother and sister.  And then the rest of the family! Oh fun!

My craft room is almost finish!  All the painting is done, just have to get more peel and stick tiles.  So far the room has only cost us $18.  2 cans of knock of paint, and the painting tools.  The rest of the paint came from our neighbor ~ old paint she needed to get rid of anyways.  The flooring is going to put us back $44 but that is the cheapest way.  We’re slowly fixing the house to a more livable setting ~ as cheaply as possible because in just over 2 years the house will be paid for and in our name (long story).  When that happens we plan on getting a home improvement loan to totally redo this house.  We want access to the top part of the house.  We only live on the first floor of the house because the upstairs is all apartments that you can only get to from the outside.  But we have big, big plans.

I will post pictures of the kids T & T as soon as I get them off my camera.  Lil’ Miss was a little witch and Bud was a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.  It was kinda scary to think that his costume was a 7-8 in size and I didn’t need to take it in any.  He’s not yet 4 years old!!

So question time:  Since I’m kinda running out of ideas here, what would YOU like to see here?  I am completely open to suggestions.

See you on the flip side!

Yarn winner!

So congrats Erin!!  Be sure to check your email!