be impressed by this

I know no one wants to hear any more about my dumb phone and how I ruined it (and cost myself a bunch of money in the process) anymore, so instead I'm going to blog about a recent success that should impress the pants off you, imaginary readers.  For the sake of others, please don't read this in public.  I don't want to be responsible for your pants flying off and freaking anyone out.

I had to put my plarn mat project on hold recently to take care of a more time-sensitive crafty project.  My friend Mo is having a baby sometime soon and the Peeps threw her a baby shower last weekend.  Here's how cute it was:

There were some good eats too, and pregnant Mo is fairly precious (but her baby bump and the cheesy bacon bites are not the impressive thing).  Peep Amy made the perfect, perfect cake.

Peep Amy has a cake-decorating blog that she updates very sporadically.  Apparently working full-time and raising two of the sweetest boys in the world and creating the most amazing cakes doesn't leave her much time to write about them.  I'll forgive her if she'll continue to make me cakes occasionally.  The cake, while magnificent, is not the titular impressive thing.

 Here are the peep girls at the shower with Luke hiding his face but no Calla because she was having kind of a hard life right then.  This cute but poorly lit picture doesn't really have anything to do with the thing that's going to impress you, but I like us and we're cute, so I wanted to include it.

Technically these next few photos aren't the thing that's going to impress you either, but I do think these two delights are impressively cute.  I love them.

 I know it looks like she's just about to stand up and take off, but this is actually her method of not crawling.  She gets up like this and plants her bottom in whatever new direction she's trying to move.  It's awkward but effective.

I took roughly four thousand pictures of the tweeps on this afternoon, but in a surprising number of them, the more mobile Calla is blocking Luke. 

This face is hilarious.  She has a very skeptical brow sometimes.  And has been previously discussed on the blog, the Clintster would make a pretty, pretty girl.

So we're getting to the impressive thing just any second now:  My brilliant bit of creativity factors into the shower in the gift-opening.  Back in the fall, I made the tweeps wee striped hats since they were going to be cold-weather babies.  This baby is due in late-May and won't be requiring much in the way of warm head coverings, so I had sort of written off the idea of a knitted gift, until this book came into my life:

I was charmed by all the cuteness but intimidated by the intricacies of the patterns.  But since there were several animal projects that fit right into Mo's decorative scheme, and because I occasionally get confident (over-confident?) in my own ability to accomplish things, I ultimately decided to tackle a project for a lion that reverses to an elephant.  (Spoiler alert:  I don't think this is the last we'll see of projects from this adorable book.)

Like the irresponsible blogger/crafter I am, I didn't take pictures documenting the project, but here's what the finished project looks like:

 the lion side

 the elephant side

 the back views

 I know it's not polite, but if you look up the elephant's skirt, here's what you see:  a wadded-up lion.

 And if you look up the lion's skirt, the scrunched elephant.

 The bottoms of the heads are stitched together for some stability, so it can't be a two-headed beast, so this is the only way you can see both animals at once.

So that's how my most recent knitting turned out.  I'm just the tiniest bit proud of it, but since I learned this week not to have so much pride in my own accomplishments, I'm not going to make any promises that the little liophant won't fall apart tomorrow, but I do hope that it'll last for the next four weeks or so until the Raspberry is born.

an open letter to the pioneer woman

Dear P-Dub (I can call you P-Dub, right?  I mean, we're friends and all now),

I should warn you that I used to do these open letters all the time (or once a week for about a month), but they became kind of dangerous.  See I really just do them for laughs, never expecting that the addressee will ever actually read them, but it turns out this here internet-thingy is a public forum, and sometimes moving truck companies and basic cable television networks will stumble across my amusing little letters, and weird stuff occasionally follows.  Once I began to understand the might of the open letter, I sent them into semi-retirement, only using them in safe and controlled conditions.  I've always known that the time might once again be right to send an open letter out into the world, but no offense, I didn't anticipate that it would be for you.  The open letter is my secret final weapon against the one person who I hope to lure into friendship (and marriage) through the blog.  But I'm not going to devote that letter to FHDM until I'm sure I'm ready for us to happen because as I think I mentioned a few sentences back, the open letter is a powerful tool with unexpected and far-reaching effects.  But now that you and I are friends I'm not afraid to send this open letter out into the internet-void.  I mean I'm assuming you were going to look me up and start following the blog anyway now that we've met, right?

Thanks times a million for coming to the Arkansas Literary Festival on Saturday!  It was kind of the best work-related thing that's ever happened to me.  I tend to avoid Lit Fest because it's so busy and chaotic, and all the people make me crazy.  And honestly, if I'm not working, I don't really dig hanging out at the library.  It's a great place, but I feel like I spend enough time there without devoting leisure time to it.  But you were totes worth the crowd and chaos and hanging out where I work without getting paid.  Even the line waiting with the rabid PW fans was mildly awesome. 

To tell the truth, I'm the reason you were invited in the first place.  I've been a fan for a couple of years now, and when you were on the cookbook tour (was that 2009?), I may have become a little obsessed with talking about you at work.  It helped that I won a $75 amazon gift card in one of your Geography quizzes (Kansas City, if memory serves).  The cool thing about the folks I work with is that I'm the young, hip, fun girl, so anything that I like, they buy into--not that it was a hard sell.  They fell right in love with you too, and because I had brought you onto the radar of my boss (maybe you met her today?  Lisa, but not the Lisa who moderated your session), she suggested you to Mr. Lit Fest, and the rest is history--or the beginning of our awesome friendship.  I don't typically use the word awesome so much.  Forgive me.

You already know the highlights of the day as you were there hanging out with me and stuff, but let me take you through the good times you missed out on.  I worked the Book Fiesta in the morning before you got there (remember I told you about making the salsa and getting it on my shirt?), so everyone else got there at various stages, but by a few minutes after noon we were ready to head for the line.  We were in a pretty decent spot too.

I realized that I'd left my camera upstairs not long after we got into line, so while Martha was taking the twins one at a time to change their diapers on the lawn in the little garden area outside where we were waiting, I ran back up to my desk to get my camera.  I asked if she would reenact the lawn diaper changes for me once I got back, but she apparently didn't want her babies' private business enshrined here on my blog.  Go figure.

In that brief time while I was gone, the line was growing and growing.  Some sweet lady behind us offered to take our picture all together since someone was getting left out of all the ones we were taking ourselves.  I know it's confusing, but Martha's holding Jackson, who's really Amy's baby.  That's Luke you can see in the stroller, but sweet Calla got cut off--but of course, you remember what she looks like anyway.

In addition to the diaper changes, the twins had to eat lunch in line--the sacrifices those babies made to meet you are impressive, huh?  Trust me that nothing should ever come between Luke and his eating schedule.  The boys likes his food.

The vestibule where we waited was airless and sticky with all those warm bodies, so I was quite ready to get inside the Darragh Center which I hoped would be pleasantly cool.  You may recall it was not.  We were melting in there too, so I speculated then about how many paper towels or tissues you were using to soak up the sweat from your armpits and wondered if you had enough to share.  If I'd gotten to ask my question during the session, that's what it would have been. 

Oh look, Calla's in this one--but now Luke is in the stroller.  I think he was asleep by this point maybe.

I was trying to take a picture of Calla who was down the row being really cute when my camera batteries died.  Can you believe the horror?!?  What would I do if we couldn't have a our picture made together later?  I had not come prepared for that possibility.  Luckily Nichole had.  She gave me new batteries and saved my life.

 (Thanks, Nichole!)

Jackson waited until he was inside and sitting down to eat, but out of respect for Amy, I'm not going to show you that picture (though thanks to the Hooter Hider/Modest Mommy/nursing bib it's a perfectly respectable photo). 

Hey!  There you are.  Of course, you'll remember this part.  You really did a fantastic job, and you appeared completely undaunted during the whole laptop/slideshow debacle, so despite whatever you feel about your lack of strength as a public speaker, I thought you handled yourself like a pro.  And I'm sure it didn't hurt that you're so beloved that we all were just giddy with seeing you and hearing you and getting to laugh with you in person, and no one in the audience cared about the a/v issues.


Later while we were standing in line waiting for book-signing, Nichole said, "wasn't she just like you thought she'd be?"  I had to agree.  Your warmth and genuineness and humor were exactly as I'd pictured them.  I guess everyone else thought so too since we waited and waited and waited for the line to wind around for us to see you.  Poor pregnant Monica just had to sit down, so we actually had a folding camp chair that she sat in and moved and scooted as the line meandered.  The babies held up like champs through all the waiting.  Both boys took naps and Calla only got a little fussy.

And then, at long last, we made the last corner and saw you, wearing those boots you've talked about so often, sporting the haircut you got last week (is it creepy that people know so much about your life sometimes?), and charming the socks off everyone whose book you signed.  It was interesting to hear the sorts of things people brought up to talk about with you as they had their moment:  homeschooling, being from Oklahoma, favorite recipes.  I could tell that everyone felt as I did, that she'd known you long before she handed your her book to sign and that like me, she'd considered carefully what to say in her brief time with you to make a connection--to help you know her in some small way as she knows you.  Everyone might as well have said, "Hi, Ree.  I think you're great, and more importantly we're alike.  If I lived down the gravel road from you, we'd be friends, great friends, inseparable.  Instead let's be long-distance friends.  You won't regret it.  After all, all those things you say, those funny things that happen to you, those foods that you love, I do all those things too.  We're alike, you see."  But saying that would come off just a shade stalkerish and desperate, so instead we honed in one one detail, one thing to tell you that would make us special, make us important to you, if only for a moment, because you're important to us.  And you delivered for us, listening to those snippets and details, responding with your sweet smile and appropriate questions, and acting for all the world as though you had all the time in the world to talk to us.

When my moment came, it was no different.  I was grateful to Lee Ann (the Lit Fest girl who was opening the books and handing them to you) for telling you that I worked at the library so I could act like I was a little more special, a little more in-the-know than all the other folks who had passed through the line.  I got to confess to you that I had salsa on my shirt, a splatter from earlier in the day when I had made your restaurant-style salsa (best salsa ever) for the Book Fiesta in the children's department.  We got to bond for a moment on the perfection that is your salsa, and I felt the residual glow of your admiration for the cute babies in our group. 

If there was one thing we could have done differently that would have made the moment pure, over-the-top perfection, we would have all crowded around you for a group picture.  It would have been a lot like that first picture up at the top (but with Luke and Calla out of the stroller) and with you as our new friend right in the middle.  When I think back on the day, that's how I want to remember it, that's the picture I see in my heart. 

From all of us who have had those moments with you, thanks.  Thanks for being everything we imagined you would be:  the ordinary girl who loves butter and hates laundry, who delights in her kids and feels nervous about her weight, who does embarrassing things and owns up to them, who finds beauty in quiet everyday moments of family, food, and friends.  Thank you for giving us your attention, for treating us like long-lost friends or new friends you'd been waiting to meet, just as eagerly as we'd been waiting to meet you.

Thanks for it all,

Ellen (your new best friend)

P.S.  I didn't tell Amy or Martha or Monica about that second extra conversation we had as I saw you on your way out.  They don't know how we talked about our fall Getaway and the Lodge.  So once you figure out the details of how that might work, let me know.  I can't wait to tell them.

P. P. S. I'm sorry it took me so long to get this posted.  I got it mostly finished on Sunday, but then internet vanished from our home until today.  It's not because I wasn't giddily excited about reliving our day together.  Don't let my technological issues come between us.  Please.

P. P. P. S. To anyone reading this who doesn't know about Pioneer Woman and her amazing-ness, get out from under your rock and go here.  You won't be sorry.  Promise.

17 reasons why i haven't blogged lately (in random order)

1.  I spent exactly thirty minutes at my desk today.  Granted I came to work an hour late and took a longer-than-normal lunch.  but I also left somewhere between fifteen and forty-five minutes late.  I didn't work the public service desk at all.  I'm not saying I usually blog at work, but I do type out quick ideas as I have them sometimes, and I typically take all my "breaks" and lunch at my desk which gives me time to work on my informative and entertaining posts.  And if I work the public service desk at a slow time, I do sometimes indulge in more personal internet pursuits (a category into which blogging falls) while I'm waiting around on someone to assist.

2.  I ate lunch today with Peeps Monica and Martha and the tweeps.  It was a thousand times better than lunch at my desk with the internet.  I was having way too good a time to blog--plus I spent a decent fraction of the meal baby juggling with Martha, and I can't feed myself, hold babies and blog all at once.  I'm no super woman.  P.S. My storytime wooing of the tweeps has not yet won them over to adoration of me, but I shall not be daunted.

3.  Often lately I've been eating lunch and taking breaks in our staff lounge (despite what I said to the contrary in the previous two excuses).  My library friend Philip gave up going out to lunch for Lent, so he's been bringing his lunch, and I've been bringing my lunch almost daily since the beginning of the year, so we've been eating together upstairs more.  Sometimes Bob comes too.  We bring our handwork (they're both knitting hats at the moment) and work on our various projects.

4.  It's spring break round these parts, and we're doing alliterative programs for school kids every day this week.  On Movie Monday, I passed out popcorn and showed How to Train Your Dragon to fifty-one library friends.  On Tie-Dye Tuesday, I calmly dealt with fifty-three library friends and the rainbow-hued carnage they left on the tables, floor, and my hands.  Today on Wii Wednesday I played and supervised and refereed twenty-two library friends through multiple games for three hours.  These unexpected well-attended pursuits have pushed me much closer to exhaustion than I should be, and while that's embarrassing, the fact remains that sitting down and stringing clever words together just wasn't in me (still isn't, but here you go anyway).

5.  As I previously mentioned I've been working on balance and moderation in my personal interests and pursuits, so at home I've been reading and cooking and keeping all the dishes washed and watching tv as a family with Jess, and I've been trying to spend less time glued to my laptop.  Providing intellectually stimulating blog fodder is the unintended casualty of moderation--though those unfinished home projects as yet remain unfinished.

6.  I mentioned in #3 that I'm bringing my handwork to lounge lunches and breaks with Philip and Bob, but I haven't told you about what I'm doing.  I'm actually working on a post all about it, so I'm not going to tell you until that's ready, but my steady work on this undisclosed craft project has given me something to do with my hands besides typing out blogs for you, and I am really excited about showing you someday.

7.  I had an interesting and busy weekend.  Our church is doing some painting and cleaning at an elementary school while they're out on spring break, and I went to help clean and tape for the paint crews on Saturday.  One of the areas we painted was the cafeteria where they had to work around a mural depicting Carson-Dellosa kiddos following the posted cafeteria rules.  It was a mostly really cute except that it was unfinished.  I thought it a shame that our freshening and sprucing would still be overshadowed by the half-finished people (that weren't on our list of approved fixes).  I asked if I could come back the next day and finish them, so our man in charge called someone from the school, and I got permission to do it.  I went back on Sunday to finish the job and recruited some help, and we almost got it done.  My sidekicks completed the mural on Monday while I was at work slinging popcorn for the movie-goers.  Jess went and took pictures, and it turned out beautifully. 

8.  I would have liked to be able to blog about the successful selection of a winning NCAA tournament bracket, but alas, my hopes have been dashed for another year.  I'm currently tied for last place in a pool of ten friends and family members.  It shouldn't surprise me any longer that I'm terrible at these picks, but it's always disheartening.  All of my Final Four teams are still in the running, so although I still have a higher-than-some points potential, I've missed many, many significant picks.  I suspect that this week's games will drive the final nail in my bracket's coffin.  It doesn't help that cousin, scholar, theologian and #1 blog fan, who admitted to making mostly arbitrary picks is in first place.

9.  Laziness.

10.  A lack of task commitment.

11.  A stronger than normal tendency to ramble senselessly.  Seriously, every time I try to post something lately, it turns into a torrent of messy words, and I abandon the effort.

12.  A short attention span.

13.  An almost unreasonable desire to do nothing but eat Dove truffle eggs.  Until Saturday I hadn't found them at a store this Easter candy season, but now I know that Walgreens has them, and the desire to purchase and consume them is a constant presence in my life.  In the spirit of balance and moderation (not to mention my healthy-eating choices), I'm trying to keep this from becoming an obsession, but it's a near thing.

14.  Time seems to be passing at a fairly high rate these days.  I don't mean to let days (or weeks) go by between posts, but somehow even when I have ideas at the ready for my next posts, days pass in a blur with no writing to show for it.  I'm sure this is just one more sign of my increasing age.  It goes nicely with my flights of nostalgia, the giant gray streak in my hair, and my geriatric tendency to be set in my ways.

15.  I've been spending more time talking to Jess.  She's nice, but sometimes I get too busy or cranky or in my head to talk to her.  That's being a loser-y sort of friend, and I'm working on that.  I like talking to her when I'm not being too much of a jerk to do so.

16.  A sense of guilt that because of the increasingly significant time elapsing between posts, I need to bring my A-game for the imaginary readers lurking here, desperately hoping for some new communication from me.  When all I can produce is pointless drivel (for instance:  more than a dozen lame and needy excuses for my lack of posts), I have a difficult time allowing myself to post such substandard fare . . . usually (though obviously not tonight).

17.  I have become overwhelmed with my clear  and unhealthy dependence on the adverb.  What if I use more than my allotment of adverbs while blogging, and I'm forced to go on without them?  It boggles the mind and cripples my productivity.  Please reassure me that this is not my fate, faithful readers.  For my sake, for the sake of the blog, for all of us. 

silent gratitude isn't much use to anyone

I'd like to take credit for the title of this post, but I stole it from G.B. Stern.  Thanks, Gladys, for letting me borrow your words.

But in the spirit of being useful and because I complain way too much, it seems like an appropriate moment to proclaim some thankfulness.  Lots of my facebook friends have been doing daily thankfulness statuses for the whole month.  I didn't, not because I'm ungrateful but because I'm lazy.  I did quite by accident mention something for which I was thankful on Monday morning, so I've followed up with that the past couple of days. Let's start there, shall we?  Please pardon the third person pronouns.  It's facebook's fault.

Ellen is thankful  . . .

" . . .for her Monday mornings which ease her back into work mode as gently as possible."  I don't have to go to work until 11 on Mondays because it's my late night.  I love that schedule of getting to sleep a bit late or having time to get some other things done in the mornings.  Plus it gets my late night out of the way early in the week, so it's not hanging over my head.  Of course, I'm usually so grouchy about having to go back to work, I don't fully appreciate these benefits, but this week I did.  


" . . . that the zombies in her dream weren't too aggressive."  Okay, that one's just silly, but when I woke up from a rather unsettling dream Tuesday morning and hopped right on the internet as is my custom, the lingering creepiness of the dream was soon overshadowed by the relief that it hadn't been grosser or more horrifying.  


" . . . that she gets to spend a few nights away from the yippy dog next door."  Poor yippy dog next door.  How I hate her.  Apparently Mr. Next Door rescued her from some terrible treatment, and he had her for months before she could make sound.  I felt all sorts of sadness for her when she was an abused dog who couldn't bark.  Such a tragic little figure, she was.  And then her comfort and confidence grew, and she was healed enough to bark. every. morning.of. my. life.  Now I feel all sorts of sadness for myself.  But I'll be spending the next four nights at Shane's, so her yippiness will be someone else's Thanksgiving blessing.

And now for some previously unpublished thoughts on gratitude:


I'm thankful . . .


 . . . for a ten day free preview of the HBO channels going on now.  I've filled our DVR with movies, watched a couple on demand, and have done a bit of work to catch up on all the past year or more of not watching movies.  For the holiday weekend, we are actually getting a free preview of the top tier package which includes access to all the premium channels, but the DVR is full, and I'll be a bit too busy basking in the warm bosom of my family to worry about it.  


 . . . for the interwebs.  I will proclaim, with no concern for how lame it makes me, that the internet makes my life better in countless ways.  And since my infrequent and often unreadable posts come to you via internet, imaginary readers, I'm sure you join me in my gratitude.


 . . . for my four-year-old Bible class.  My little children are precious and funny and even the ones who don't listen and make me work up a sweat are so sweet and charming.  I could tell you loads of stories that seem hilarious and special to me but would probably just bore you and go nowhere.  But trust me that the dozen and a half or so preschoolers who hang out with me on Sundays are the best part of most of my weeks.


 . . . for pajama pants.  I'm thankful for the rest of my clothes too, most of the time, but I'm always overwhelmed with gratitude when I can put on my pajama pants.


 . . . for Peeps and Meeps and Weeps.  Friends so precious and dear that miles and years cannot ease the hold they have on my heart.


 . . . for cell-phone alarm clock capabilities that allow me to never have to wake up to a blaring alarm again.  Nothing ruins a morning like a startlingly loud honking noise.  "Linus and Lucy" is ever so much nicer.

. . .  for chocolate-covered pretzels.  How they complete my life.
 
 . . . for her.  And him.

Seriously.  Don't they look like the sweetest, best parents anywhere ever?  They so are.



  . . . and for her (and her again) and her and her and her and her

. . . and for him and him and him (and him again even with that face) and her

. . . and for him and him and him and her and him and him and him

  . . . and for him and her and her and her and him and her (and for the her inside that striped sweater that we wouldn't meet for another five months) and him and her and him and her and him.

. . . for traditions that hold on even when they become crowded and noisy and logistically unsound.  And for the love and understanding that allow those traditions to be reevaluated and adapted into ever more good times.  For last times and first times.  For nostalgia and anticipation.  For family and every special thing that the word evokes.


 . . . for you, dear readers.  For being here and reading this and making all my Google Analytics dreams come true.


Love & stuff,
ellen

peeps' past painted pottery projects

Many months ago, I wrote about Beckypalooza and my Peeps, and careful readers may recall that I promised at that time to post photos of our our pottery painting once I'd picked them up.  Well, I did pick them up, and I did take some photos of the pieces, but you'll notice photos of the projects have never appeared here.  Just one more way that I'm a blogging failure.

But now in a web redemption worthy of Tosh.0, I present the pottery pictures:

 First up, Martha's:

 She created a drop-zone bowl for the Clintster's keys and change and such when he empties his pockets.

 This is the only piece I haven't seen in person since Martha picked up her own piece, but based on the photos, it turned out just right for him.  The bottom of the outside is blue--they sent me one picture with the flash on where you can definitely tell that, but it made the red inside look yellow.  The pieces are so glossy once they're glazed and fired that photographing them is a bit tricky.

 The top of the outside is one of the special speckled paints that you can use.  I like it.

Next up is Amy's plate:

  For the a, Mo and I had to sketch a few different possibilities, and she chose this one that I drew for her.


It was a simple design that turned out great--the colors are great, despite what the photos may suggest, and Amy did a great job.

Mo did this little lop-sided bowl with a very interesting shape.

Smon painted it super-cute too.  Here's the first side with her name.

 

The tall side.

 The opposite side with Michael's name

 A view down into the inside with perfect polka dots.  I love it!

Rob stressed and labored over a mug.  It turned out great, but she was full of angst the entire time.  Bless her little heart.

 

 Those circles were not easy.  You stressed for nothing, Rob.  It's adorable.

 Allegedly she's going to use it to hold her little aloe vera plant in her kitchen window, but I don't know if she's repotted it yet or not.

Hailey chose another interestingly-shaped bowl to hold her keys.  I donated some of my distinctive keys to the project as models.

 I've seen it in her apartment with keys in it, and it's perfect.

 The outside is green, but the flash washed it out in this picture.

 That's more accurate.

 I really, really like it.

Becky did a vase for her new kindergarten classroom in Middletown school colors.

 Another brilliant use of polka dots.

Weird lighting on this one.  Sorry, Beck.  Of course, I'm also sorry that I still haven't mailed this baby to you.  At this point, I'm just going to bring it to you at the wedding.  But I do feel guilty about not sending it yet.

The project I worked on that day was an anniversary present for my moma and the Popster.

 I used the colors of my moma's Fiestaware for inspiration.  The colors themselves were perfect, but the execution was just okay.

 One of the tricks to pottery painting is that you have to do three coats for it to be completely opaque.  But I lose track of the number of coats fairly frequently, so the initial and date didn't turn out dark enough.  Plus, it's the ugliest M I've ever written.

But my moma of course pretended that it was perfect.  Additionally to clarify, though they appeared in the blog in reverse order, I painted and presented my pottery to the olds before those little upstarts gave my moma pottery for her birthday.

And that, imaginary readers, is how we whiled away a delightful afternoon of Beckypalooza way back in June.


You're welcome.