on the level

Here's that missing shot of the potty seat cover dispenser. If you know me at all you have got to know how much this drove me crazy. It was all I could do to get out of there without ripping it off the door and hot gluing it back on LEVEL!

If it weren't for the tissue roll flying over the door like a possessed demon, I probably would have gone to the nearest Target and grabbed the tools to fix it.

Oy. I need help.

Bleach Pen Skeleton Shirt Tutorial

So here you go folks, a tutorial on using a Clorox Bleach Pen to dye/bleach out a 100% cotton tee shirt. This one, a skeleton! The bleach works out to a variety of oranges, kind of creepy looking actually. Skill level really depends on your art skills. The more confident artist will just sit down and draw out a skeleton. The less experienced crafter may need to practice and/or take a bit of time. All in all it's just bones and a costume, so does it really matter if it's not perfect? Have fun!

Click here to view a (larger!) you tube version. You Tube got upset at me and I had to change the music. Then I changed the music and it pouted for a few days, guess they forgive me and it's up now. I changed the music to my daughter's concert band, how can they get mad about that? The music is cool, "The Pines of Rome, Appian Way" (where all the dead soldiers rise out of their graves and march into Rome...appropriate I thought. You can here their 'boom boom' march as the back beat, cool.) It was the performance done at Disney Hall (hall, not land- they were and still are the only youth symphony allowed to perform there.), so it's pretty good. Any who, larger version at the link!

Before

yikes. This is what I have been up to the past week. Seems #5 needed some changes in her life. Part of those changes meant dealing with a less than responsive (or responsible for that matter) landlord and manager for the small BY-U approved housing. Took a bit of doing but I think we are making some head way.

Then there was the matter of the condition of the interiors. Not being allowed to paint over the dead flat bright hospital white walls that have been neglected (for several years by the look of them), we opted for the things we could change.

This first photo is of the front door as you face the street. Note that the t.v. is placed on a dresser. Normally I would think, "O.k. clever. We can use the dresser as extra storage and as a t.v stand." Alas, no. This dresser has been held together by unknown forces for far too long! The drawer fronts actually just balance on their frames, one small move and the whole front falls off! (The collection of odds and ends on the floor were my fault...thrift store bargains, more on them later)

This second photo shows the lovely thin to thread bare curtains, broken windows that cannot be secured and are directly in line with the drive way and walk way access to the back house. Neighbors, the mailman, and any visitors have a direct view into the house at any time of the day! How convenient! It also shows the best of the two couches, this one actually a love seat with holes in the seats, thus the yellow sheet, which as most throws or slip covers has a tendency to shift during use. Note the small foot stool. There are two of these, I think they are cast offs from a glider rocker, as they both glide. The good thing is they are surprisingly comfortable, the height is good and the cushion is bearable. Behind the love seat are two book cases. The one on the right holds two of the girls' dvd collections and on the base shelf, one gal's nursing books. The other shelf on the left houses #5's books, well some of her books. That book case it also very wobbly and whenever you remove a book the entire shelf lists one way or the other and you need to steady it, lest it collapse in a heap. There is a "Medusa" lamp, which the girls bought together because there was no lighting in the house prior to the purchase. They didn't really like it, but for $20.00 it was a deal. In the left corner, not shown, is another bookcase #5 brought with her, also filled to the brim with her books; and a hanging wind chime that belongs to her roommate... the one thing said roommate insisted stay exactly where it is, all else we could do what we would.

The third photo shows what I dubbed the SLC Airport couch. It had a very firm (read hard) and very shallow seat and all it was lacking was baggage claim and/or the pleather roping to guide you to your terminal. That was our beginning.

The last photo is one final look at the love seat for later comparison. We decided something had to be done about the seating in this house. No one ever sat on the Airport couch because of it's complete lack of comfort, so the girls dismantled it and stored it inside a hall closet.

One more reason Thor is amazing.

Dandelion Momma writes beautifully on summer happenings in her home and feelings that bring moments of relief in an often overwhelming life; one of which is the thought that perhaps someday she will be able to hang her laundry on a clothesline outside to dry and fluff in the warm summer sun. She makes it sound lovely.

One of my best friends hates to see the weather change to the point where she has to take her laundry indoors. She is a firm believer in the benefits of sun dried sheets and clothing that takes on the scent of the outdoors. She becomes slightly depressed during the long winter months of rain, or the threats thereof that chain her shirts, socks, and sweaters to the energy efficient dryer in the laundry room.

Me? I have issues.

For the first six and a half years and three children of our marriage Thor and I budgeted every penny trying to buy a house, feed little people and keep ends at least within a few feet of each other. Part of that budgeting was me lugging laundry and 1, then 2, then 3 children twenty minutes into town and doing laundry at the mat. I detested most every minute there as, at that time, it was the least expensive of the auto-mats in our hamlet, and being such, attracted those who could least afford the better machines and interiors. But I went dutifully. Thor was sacrificing (he had to live away from home for work, many times living in his car to save money rather than sleeping in a hotel), and this was my part. Many times the children were not allowed away from my sight lest an inebriated parent in the room engage them in a somewhat less than appropriate conversation.

After a while Thor saved enough and came home with a washer. It was small, the smallest one they made in the line he chose. It was a fabulous machine that lasted us well over 20 years in the long run. On average, with the kids and the size of the washer, I would do 3-4 loads a day over those 20 years. We hadn't yet afforded a dryer, so those loads were hung outside in the summer weather to dry. We had 1/2 acre of land, completely void of vegetation due to the high cost of water. The backyard was a vast flat piece of sandy dirt and gravel with foot high foxtail weeds in the spring until Thor could plow them down. But the line was well above the danger of the weeds and dirt and with the heat of the day, even the heaviest pair of denim jeans would be dry in a matter of minutes. In the winter laundry hung like Salvador Dali's "Persistence of Memory" all over the house furniture. When it finally dried it would come off the particular piece of furniture cast in its' shape, crispy and often oddly shaped even after putting it on. If I didn't take care to properly place the clothes once dried you could have a permanent "bubble" shape in an arm sleeve or the small of your back, or worse.

Along with saving for dryers we needed to save for other items. As a young bride and groom we received zero towels when we married. Z. RO. We got 5 hand mixers, 10 salad bowls, 6 chip and dip sets and 2 blenders, but no towels (or sheet sets for that matter). Thor's mother generously gave us her older towels and sheets which we gratefully took once we saw the price of new ones. It took me about six and a half years to finally save enough to buy brand new thick lovely towels!

I brought them home and cut the tags off of them, I put them in the washer and anticipated their thick fluffy loops drying us all later that night. I hung them out on the line and after 20 minutes or so went out to gather our new treasures! Instead I walked out to find the line post had broke at the base and fell to the ground. The line had twisted over and over in the wind and the towels had flopped and mopped up thousands of foxtails into the terrycloth. I unclipped each towel and wash cloth and cried crocodile tears as I surveyed the damage. Not one was saved, they all were covered so thick with the foxtails there was no hope of pulling them out without destroying the terry loops. I blew. After waiting almost seven years it was all I could take. The towels were gone. Worse, the money was gone with them.

With all the kids down for their naps I went to the garage. I found the hedge clippers and I went to work. I went to the downed line and chopped it into foot lengths of rope confetti, crying and yelling at the ground for all I was worth. I had lost my new beautiful longed-for and months of saved for towels and I was hysterical. I exhausted my emotion in that line and then picked up the destruction and put it all in the trash.

I walked into the house, took a shower and waited. Thor came home two days later and I showed off the towels and my handiwork. If we went into hock or hell, I was Scarlett O'Hara and as God as my Witness I would never use an outdoor clothes line again! Thor gave me the "Frankly my dear..." look, but before he could begin the look on my face told him not to say a word.

Poor Thor took all my wrath and then some. It was not his fault but I didn't know who else to blame and I needed to spend that rage. It took two more weeks but, Thor brought home a small dryer and kept me from chopping up anything else. It's been 30 some years now and I tell ya, there are just some things a wife needs; and for me, it was a washer and a dryer!

So I put it to you, is there any silly thing that pushed you over the edge of reason, for which your better half has saved you by providing a solution?

You're o.k. I'm o.k.

Olly with the ladies
Originally uploaded by Oliver Steeds

I've been out and about lately, reading, pondering. Seems we bloggers have aging on our minds. So who wants to be America's Top Model? I guess, in a way, we all do. But then there's me. I'm some what low maintenance.

I met my best girl friend years ago. She is tiny in height in shape, but never in hair, nails, or ideas. She is huge with ideas. And generosity, but that's another post. My best girlfriend has always tried to "girlify" me, you know, help me dress better, wear make up, do something -anything- with my hair and generally fem up a bit. o.k. It's not like I'm a lumberjack, but that I am more the hippy chick wanna be. If I had my way I'd look similar to Dharma's mom, Abby Fincklestein, but I'm no where near that cute.

I gave up make up in the 70's because it was just to suffocating on my skin and after a couple of hours I looked like a raccoon anyway. Back then I was 105lbs. with stick straight hair. In the 80's I wanted big hair (read BIG HAIR) like everyone else. So I fried the juju out of it. I also gained a lot of weight so I ended up looking much like a before photo of Richard Simmons...no one wants that, so I eased up on the perms.

Most of the 90's and, up until recent dates, I lived in the perma-pony tail, still sans make up, and let my casual dress lead the way. I wear a suit to church on Sundays because grown up ladies are supposed to do that, but frankly, I'm not a fan. I would love to wear my peasant blouses, broomstick skirt and berks, but I do know that I don't look like Abby enough to get away with that. I don't dye my hair. I have really nice colour anyway, who cares if it is going gray now. I'm 50, deal. I both fell into the "beauty" trap and avoided it, I'm an enigma, go figure. But I am aging and with age comes wisdom, or at least one can hope.

There are wrinkles now. There is the funky stretchy skin all over and the bread dough tummy... probably from eating too much bread. I lose more hair on the pillow than Thor ever will. I shed. Holy cow, do I shed!

But then I think about the women on my favourite t.v. show, the women of the Kombai and Mek tribes. Beautiful black women who have lived their lives in the wilderness of their countries, no make up, no lotions, no Victoria Secret, no Spanks, no toothbrush or nightly showers, no clothes or shoes. No models to speak of, no bill boards or infomercials, no make up counter at the center of the village, nothing. What would Carrie Bradshaw do? Probably throw her Prada pursed, Manolo Blahnik shod and Victor and Rolf draped self off the nearest cliff.

I look at my face in the mirror and see the crow's feet beginning to hop around, I see the laugh lines and my still crooked 'period' teeth. I see the "highlights" of gray in my charcoal hair. I feel the aches and pains from standing on a ladder one too many times. But I also see the wisdom that is coming with each year, the not worrying about the little things anymore, the ability to let things go that are no longer important.

I look to the women who see me as the young kid, and who laugh out loud at all the fuss about carbs, low-fat yogurt and the number of inches on your heels. One of my dear friends, in her 80's, just last week shared with our lunch group how she just looked straight at her doctor and told him he could jump in a lake, she was fine with her weight and at her age she wasn't about to go on a diet. Don't get me wrong, she does water aerobics three times a week, and takes full care of her ailing hubby all the while pulling off a pretty stressful and time consuming church job. She takes care of herself, but she doesn't worry about the outside too much any more. "It's great to go to the pool now. No one cares if you're too fat if you're in your 80s!" She says with a laugh. "You should see those tiny little 25 yr olds! They worry about every little jiggle. They don't realize men LOVE jiggles!" With age came confidence in her true self; added pounds and all.

We live in the U.S. The birthplace of feminism, which was supposed to give us all the "go ahead" to be what we wanted to be rather than having to be what someone else decided for us. And yet, for all those grandiose ideas we all still look to Carry as the role model, as the "it" girl. (a women, I might add, who has wrinkles, smokes like a freaking chimney, colours her hair, and -for all her liberated lifestyle- only wanted what most of us already have, a husband.) What happened to being o.k. and good enough in our own skin? What happened to being revered for who we are and not for what we own, wear, or how large or small certain parts of our anatomy are?

Look at the women in the photo above. Confident, learned, knowing, even sassy. These women grew into themselves not a size 0 designer label. They grew into what they were divinely designed to do. As young women they had full round hips and breasts. As their children grew away from a mother's need, these women's bodies changed and adapted to their new age. Are these women wistful that their bodies have changed, drastically? Maybe. But they go with it anyway. They add to their dog teeth necklace, honours and trophies for their abilities and skills, not for their collection of Jimmy Choos, snow white teeth, or size two body after fourty.

They sag. Their legs are scarred and pocked. The skin drapes over their ligaments and tell the struggle of their existence and experience. Their hair is a ball of woolen snarls, but their eyes... look at their eyes.

I'll give you a minute, go on, click on the photo and check it out as large as it comes. Look at the women.

I'll tell you right now the two on the outside, well, I would love to talk with them. Don't they look fabulous? They look like they have something to say! All three of them look smart, confident, strong in opinion and ethics, interesting and humourous. Wouldn't it be grand if someone saw a photo of us, no clothes, no make up, looking straight into the lens and could say that about each of us?

Now that gal in the middle, don't mess with her, she knows what she wants and I bet she gets it...every time. She doesn't look angry or overbearing, but defined, focused, purposed, and even humble. I bet she is a good friend. Dependable. Sure. The gal on the left, seems like the gal in high school who had it all together, a bit of attitude - the good kind- and always on the edge of laughter, the gal who went to work and got it done. The cutie on the right, I want to know her the most. She just looks like she is ready to share a good story, such smiling eyes.

In their tribe these women will be worked literally to death. Yet in that work will come their honour also. They will be praised for the children they bring into the world, rear and train. As they become older their knowledge will be sought after, and as elders they will be regarded as wise and powerful. Even in their death they will watch over their children and grandchildren and the tribe as a whole. They are revered because they are women. That's enough.

My point is this: Take care of yourself. Eat right, exercise, keep moving, stay involved, but for heaven's sake, take a look in the mirror and give yourself a break. You were designed to wrinkle, gray, and shift your body weight. It happens, it's o.k. Embrace the fact you are aging, it's certainly better than the alternative! Dye your hair if it makes you feel better, but don't feel bad if you don't. Diet if you like doing that, but it's o.k. to buy a size larger (or even more!) than you did when you were young and single. Relax, you're going to be fine the way you are.

Being you is enough.

underwear that's fun to wear!

That's our motto here at GrammaGear! Yes, I have been at it again. Lil Bit and her family are headed to a family reunion, and here's the rub:

They live in SoCAL and the reunion is in central Idaho!

Imagine the drive with a 5 year old, a 2 year old and a 2 month old! Yikes.

Last week I had Sparky in his car seat for 45 minutes and I thought I was going to slow baste the poor child! I had the air pointed directly on him, but he still was so over heated he drenched his tiny little onesie and his little fuzzy head was bright pink with a fauxhawk!

I got to thinking about Lil Bit. So I got myself some onesies in her size and decorated them up. This way Mommy can keep her in 'unders', she can stay a tad cooler, and when they need to stop (what, like a billion times) she'll still look somewhat presentable.

The first one is lavender, ruffles on the sleeve and bum. The second one has kiwi green 'eyelash' yarn crocheted into the neckline, sleeves and bum ruffles. A little cotton ruffled skirt can be popped on quickly for lunch at McDonald's or wherever. The last one has a crochet pink lace around the collar with little beads and a very masculine skirt. 3 sets of sparkling organza with one layer of tulle. All three 'unders' come with matching sockies and head bows.

You can click on the photos for a larger view.

Extreme Makeover...

Wow. Today was great. Church had some really awesome lessons, the best one, I think, in Relief Society. The Extreme Makeover.

The teacher opened with three different Top Ten lists on New Year's Resolutions. One from the city of Brotherly Love, Philadelphia. Their top resolution? Spend more time with family; followed by the usual stuff, lose weight, quit smoking, fix the house up, etc. The second list mentioned many of the same items, and the third made me sit up and take notice. It began...

#1. Never again see someone cold, hungry, or without hope. Find a way to help these people before you leave their presence.

Let me tell you, I heard the Spirit very distinctly and I knew before the day was out one person I knew of would not be cold or hungry again this winter.

The teacher pointed out that all of these resolutions were great, some even admirable, and that a lot of them were very predictable. How do I rid myself of having to repeat the same resolution again, or in other words, How can I finally achieve all this, and have it stick?

She brought out a Barbie doll. We'd all like to be like Barbie. Thin, fit, great job, pretty smile, nice house, fast car and liked by everyone. But how do we get there? Dr. Hollywood. Dr. Hollywood comes along and we can pay him thousands of dollars to Nip and Tuck, Make us the Biggest Loser, and/or give us the Extreme Makeover.

First up, Lasik Eye Surgery to see more clearly. She asked us to think in the terms of the Saviour who advised us to pull the beam from our own eye before we set out to pluck the mote from our [sister's] eye. Good advice. Seeing other folks as the Lord sees them would indeed give us an eye lift that would make us feel better about who looks back at us when we look in the mirror. Spiritual clarity when looking at the world would help us in all kinds of ways!

Dr. Hollywood would charge $3,500, The Lord asks us to be obedient to His laws and Commandments, and to donate 10% of our earnings.

Next, Rhinoplasty. The perfect nose! Again, she helped us see that the Lord asks us to keep our nose out of other people's business, into good books, and to the grindstone. This would make anyone's nose more attractive.

Luscious full lips are all the rage right now. The stores are full of chemical enhancers called lip venom that, when applied, will swell the lips into the desired plump kissable mouth we all want. We can pay Dr. Hollywood $20.00 for lip venom, or thousands for collagen implants; or we can do as the Lord has asked and speak kind words, avoid speaking ill of others, never lying or stretching the truth, and finding ways to lift someone else will lift us as well. Again, it costs 10% and obedience.

She went on to talk about saggy necks that could be lifted surgically or doing facial exercises like smiling and keeping our head high as we go through trials. That tummy tuck or perhaps fasting and donating the money spent on two skipped meals to those who have nothing to eat. Gastric By-Pass or perhaps following the Lord's diet of healthy foods that are fresh, and good exercise. Following the Lord's plan adds a bonus of a healthier mind and Spirit too, for no extra cost. Angioplasty to unblock a clogged artery or maybe acts of love to open up our heart? Flabby underarms could be liposucked or perhaps wrapping those same arms around someone alone or frightened or lost would be more beneficial in the long run.

The lesson had many illustrations for a complete head to toe makeover that would be so much better for us in the long run, because it would strengthen our Spirit as well as our body. No money involved, just commitment to the Lord and following His example and commandments.

It was a fun, motivating and Spiritual lesson. I am so glad she taught it. It was really a good day.

she's come undone....

O.k. So I made a trip up to Utah just to get my daughter's dress measurements and to alter her dress so that it fit correctly. A misunderstanding between she and S'mee led to the dress not being altered at all. AT the wedding she was the gal in the size to large periwinkle number. But she looked "o.k." : l We both thought the other didn't want it altered. UGH! Anywho that dress and the other sister's dress both needed 3 inches taken off the three (yes folks -3!) layers of hems.

S'mee had #5 pin her dress in hopes of altering the mother of the groom dress.

Actually the alterations on my dress went better than I had expected. I got a pretty good fit from the marking's #5 made and after a couple of goes it was as good as it could get. O.k. So then I have #3 mark it for hemline. When I purchased the dress it was made for a nice tall Norwegian, or perhaps an exceptional Amazonian woman. Either way this dress had, not only a very long "line" but an actual train! Not as long as a bride would have, but a definite train about 8 to 12 inches. Measuring the front and finding my toes would have been an easy way to determine how much to take off, but with a train she would have to go all the way around and find the floor measurement. Grrr. But #3 did a great job.

Monday"

S'mee made the marks on all three dresses for hems, and went in search of the proper needle and a rolled hemming foot. "CLOSED MONDAYS" Ugh! I need to wait for Tuesday.

Tuesday:

SO I purchase what I need. All of the sudden everything in the world falls apart and by the time I get around to sewing, things are put off for one more day.

Wednesday:

I started with my dress and after hemming the inside fabric (very nicely, thank you) I began on the outer layer. NOt for the life of me could I get that fabric to work. I tried it all, all the tricks I could think of, tissue didn't even help. The machine wasn't "eating" the fabric it was just shredding it. I used "fray check". NOPE. Nada. Zip. So I resorted to a very ugly hem and called it a day. We needed to be YM/YW and I had run out o' time!

Thursday.

Not wanting to shred the three layers of the bridal party dresses I decided to have them hemmed by a professional. HEMMED BY A PROFESSIONAL? Yikes, how the mighty have fallen. Hemmed. Are you kidding me? But I was disparate and so, yes, I succumbed and found an alterations seamstress.

"$35.00 each dress you want hurry coast you more money."

Forget that! What is it with the $70.00 alterations lately? Egads. I find another option and this seamstress is only asking $15.00. Oh joy! Oh rapture! I drop off the dresses and tell the gal I will pick them up tomorrow at 3:30. (She needs all day to fit in our "rush" - but who cares at this point?) She closes at 4:00. No problem! Friday at 3:30, plenty of time and I am happy and grateful and stress free! YES!

Thursday night: Meet down at the church to begin decorating!