What's Your Favorite Hobby?

Mine? Well, mine's usually the "flavor of the month". I can't seem to stick with any particular hobby for very long, although I've done scrapbooking for a couple of years now. (That's probably a record for me. lol) Way back in the early '90's, I had a booth at the local craft mall. I made things like these baskets: And these hats (were sunflowers really that big back then or what??):
And these wreaths:
'Course, looking at these things now, I'm kind of squirming in embarrassment. They look so...old fashioned and out-of-date. Which I guess they are, considering they were made about a decade and a half ago. (Geez, I'm getting old.)*smile* I did okay at it, meaning I always sold more than my booth rental. The problem was, I usually spent any profits shopping in other people's booths. Oh the talent those people had. I bought lots of rag dolls and ceramics and candles and wooden signs, etc. All the stuff I couldn't make myself. I still have quite a few of those things, come to think of it. I also did cross-stitching back in the day. Never to sell though. Cross-stitching is entirely too much work to try and make a profit at! I did this deer "head" for Randey's sister and her husband:
Then I did a stitching of 4 babies that represented my 4 babies (in the photo below). The original pattern actually had 7 babies and the words to this nursery rhyme:

Monday's child is fair of face.
Tuesday's child is full of grace.
Wednesday's child is full of woe.
Thursday's child has far to go.
Friday's child is loving and giving.
Saturday's child works hard for a
living,
But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day
Is bonny and
blithe and good and gay.

Unfortunately, about 3 1/2 "babies" into this project, I got bored so I stopped at 4, stitched my kids names and birth dates in and called it done. Which is probably an indication of how short my attention span had gotten by that point. This is probably the last "big" thing I stitched. My eyesight's not what it used to be, nor is my patience. (In other words...another hobby fell by the wayside)

When we moved here to Texas, I got a wild hair and decided to try my hand at mosaic. I had done a few small pieces before. Susan (my BFF) and I had done a birdbath each (talk about a learning experience!) when I lived in Florida. And we'd done a couple of cement blocks that I'd found in my garage (that's a whole other story!). But now I wanted to do something big. I wanted to actually design something. So I did this table top:
I was so thrilled with my work (hey, I thought it was pretty good, being my first "designed" project! lol) that I decided to do some matching flower pots. Yeeeaaaahhhh. Those are still sitting in our garage, 3 years later, half finished. It's that short attention span thing again. I want to finish them. I just don't want to have to do the work required to finish them. I keep thinking that one of these days, I'll find THE hobby. The one that will capture my attention and hold it forever. As much as I love scrapbooking, I don't think it's the hobby to end all hobbies for me. I'm not good enough at it, it doesn't come naturally enough to me and sometimes I get downright frustrated because I can't think of a single creative thing to do with it. But one of these days, I just know I'm going to come across THE hobby - the one that I am really, really good at, the one that will hold my attention. The one with which I can actually create something stunning. Yeah, I said it...stunning. I want to create stunning things. lol How about you? What do you create? What hobby holds your heart? What are you good at? What do you do that's just plain fun? What would you like to do as a hobby? And does anybody else out there have this weird compulsion to try and make things? Or am I just an odd-ball, your basic Jill of all trades, master of none. And if I am your basic Jill, is that so bad? Is it okay to go through life without some creative passion being fulfilled? So many questions, so few answers. My creative spirit, like just about everything else these days, is in a state of flux.

So what brought this whole hobby post on? They've opened a new shop in a town nearby where you can do ceramics! Yeah. I've never done ceramics. I grabbed a flier from their store and have been studying it...could this be THE hobby? Or will it be another passing fancy for me? Who knows. Thank goodness I stopped smoking, eh? At least I won't be making ginormous, multi-colored, Star Trek badge shaped ashtrays while I test my skill at this obsession. (she said with a big grin on her face!)

Our Pride and Joy

As most of you who read my blog know, my oldest son, Nicholas, is a member of the United States Air Force. During a deployment in 2003, he and his crew flew this flag from their aircraft and Nick subsequently presented it to Randey and me with a certificate. The certificate says this:

The accompanying American Flag was proudly flown aboard MC-130E Combat Talon I during Operation Enduring Freedom on 7 June 2003, in support of US Special Operations Forces in Afghanistan. Commitment

I am the American Flag. I have flown over every conflict since my inception into this world. I have seen the grassy fields of Gettysburg, the waters in the Pacific, the sands of Iraq, the skies over Yugoslavia , and the mountains of Afghanistan. The mere site of me invokes tears of joy, pride, and dedication in those who believe in what I stand for. I also provoke fear into the heart of nations of those who oppose me. I know no gender or race and accept all who will accept me. I am no God, but hold a bond over men and women who serve under me that is equal. I have no voice, but people listen. I cover a nation with hope and vision, and sadly blanket those who have given us the same. Of all the nations and all the flags, none makes its presence known as I. I am a leader among leaders. I encompass the lives of friends and family, brothers and sisters, the living and the dead. I will continue to give hope to those who do not understand, and meaning to those who do. In return for all I can give, I ask for but one thing. This I cannot tell you, it is something that only you will come to know. I do ask that you be patient for I am young, and stern for I am old. Proudly display me for all the world to see, and look to me, and I will show you the past, the present and the future. I am committed to you, the children of my country. I am the American Flag.

In memory of those who lost their lives on September 11, 2001.

I finally got this wonderful flag and certificate framed in a shadow box. It will be proudly displayed in our living room.

To Nick:

Thanks, baby. Randey and I both love and appreciate the gift of this flag. It means the world to us. Sorry it took so long to get it displayed.

Picture Taking 101: Next Attempt

I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, but the pictures seem to be getting better. lol Here's a close up of a rose rock. Are ya'll familiar with these? Growing up in Oklahoma, we'd find them everywhere. Nowadays they sell them in stores. This one looks like a rose from certain angles, but I've seen some that look like an actual rose dipped in red/brown paint. Anyway, moving on...I was able to get a close up shot of these glass items on one of the book shelves. That's a glass doorknob there in the middle. I have no idea why it's lying there on it's "head" like that...
Here's another one of our "Believe" signs. Annie's a big fan of the "believe" concept!! I can never look at that word without thinking of her and Izzy.
Here's a shot of my mister (and I'm not talkin' about Randey). I love this thing. Well, I love Randey, too, but this is about the mist making mister, not Big Daddy. *smile* I know these mist makers are "so last year", but I still enjoy mine...the way the mist rolls over the side is just cool.
Here's my Oklahoma paver. This isn't one of my better pictures, I just wanted to show off my paver. lol
Here's a picture of our confetti lantana. I love lantana. Randey? Not so much. I love the way it spills out of the flowerbeds onto the walkway or the grass. Randey thinks I should allow him to trim it up even with the edge of the bed. Goob.

Here's my Esperanza. I absolutely LOVE this plant. It's a perennial and every year, I look forward to seeing it bloom like this. It will bloom even more profusely as the year progresses and will continue to bloom until the weather cools down and stays cooled down. Don't you love these flowers? They're so bright and happy!
These next two are Randey's favorites of today's batch of pictures. I'm pretty proud of them myself. (Okay, so my standards are fairly low at this point, bear with me!)
The purple blooms are on our Rose of Sharon tree (also known as an Althea tree).
I was trying to get fancy with this next shot. It might have worked if I'd gotten lower with my perspective. I wanted the foreground lily to be out of focus with the back bloom being sharply in focus. I think if I had been at a lower angle, it might have turned out better.
So what do you think? Am I improving? Or is this just wishful thinking? lol

This is embarrassing...

I took my big honkin' camera off the dining room table (where I thought it looked quite nice, thank you) and attempted to take pictures around our house. I was "practicing" you see. Because practice makes perfect, right? I took pictures of flowers and trees, as well as random things inside the house. Afterwards, I raced upstairs, downloaded the chip and had a moment of utter confusion. 110 pictures?? I didn't take 110 pictures. Maybe 25 or 30, but 110? No way. Well...way. If you count the ones I took at Christmas when I was "practicing" back then, too. I just forgot to delete those at the time. So here it is, almost the end of May, and here's what was in my camera:

Hard to enjoy the magic that's the Christmas season when the temperatures are over 90, you know what I mean? And of the 25 or 30 pictures I took yesterday, here's 3 that came out almost alright. Yes. Three. That means my "success rate" is at what? 10 percent? Geez.


I just knew that I was going to suddenly be able to take magnificent pictures when I picked up that camera yesterday. But alas, looks like there's no way out of it...I gotta hit the books after all. This "practice" session wasn't a total waste, though. I have mastered the "delete" function. (Baby steps, Kari...baby steps.)

P.S. Today is the boys' last day of school! Yippee! Right? This is a "yippee" moment, isn't it? Yes, it is. I'm sure of it. We're going to have a great summer. And I mean it.

Way Over My Head

Last summer, I fussed and fussed about wanting a nicer camera. I wanted to be able to take pictures like a pro. My little point and shoot camera just wasn't up to the task. Actually, in retrospect, I think the operator of my little point and shoot camera wasn't up to the task but hindsight ain't helping me now. 'Cause now, thanks to my big mouth, I have a much bigger problem. Almost a year ago - yes! One. Whole. Year. Ago. - Randey bought me this: Isn't it something? A Nikon D80 - a truly magnificent piece of machinery. And that's not all. He also bought me this:
Lenses and gadgets galore. Woo-hoo! Unfortunately, Randey forgot that he's married to a technologically challenged individual who can't even program a microwave or TiVo with any degree of accuracy. I've had this entire set up all this time and I still don't know how to use this darn camera. I was overjoyed when I saw that our local community education office was offering a 6 week digital photography class for beginners. And then I found out that the class starts the week we leave for vacation. Ugh! However, my wonderful neighbor, Brian, loaned me a few books on photography so all is not lost. Sure, he loaned them to me months ago, but my procastination has prevented me from taking advantage of them until now (so it's not my fault, see?). But now the time has come. Our vacation is fast approaching so I can't put this off any longer...I'm going to have to break down and crack open those books. And hope Kaleb's around to interpret the tech-y stuff for me. (You don't suppose it's possible to actually electrocute yourself with a honkin' camera like this, do 'ya?)

Not Much Fizz to the Dr. Pepper Tour but Indiana Jones is Still the Man

Bright and early Saturday morning (if you consider 9:00 bright and early, that is) we headed to Dublin, Texas to check out the Dublin Dr. Pepper Bottling Company and Museum. We opted not to go to the Waco D.P. museum because it would have meant a total of 5 hours driving time to include both Dublin and Waco and we wanted to check out Indiana Jones 4 that afternoon, too. Anywho...I'm thinking that this will go down in our family history as a "been there, done that, don't need to do it again" sort of thing. The Famous "Old Doc's Soda Shop" wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Not much there at all, really. They sold t-shirts and other Dr. Pepper emblazoned items and the soda counter offered all manner of D.P. and even some sandwiches and stuff. The tour of the bottling plant, however, made the the soda shop look downright cool. Our 'tour guide' was a young, probably teen-aged, girl who used "um" and "like" in every single sentence she spoke, sometimes even several times within the same sentence, during the 20 minute tour thru the bottling facility and the three room "museum". And if she scraped her hair back behind her ears once, she did it a hundred times. Note to Dublin Dr. Pepper Management: Make sure tour guides can speak proper English, advise them to keep their hands out of their hair, especially when standing next to the bottling machinery and explain to them that stopping their schpeil in the middle of a sentence to explain to the tour how it is they always get confused when trying to pronounce so and so's name doesn't exactly convey a feeling of "ah...she knows what she's talking about!".
We bought the boys a t-shirt each, just so we wouldn't feel like the day was wasted (ha) and we bought Maddy Moose and Kara little Dr. Pepper shirts, too (see below). The coolest thing was this giant Dr. Pepper can that's located down at the end of the block from the museum. Here's Randey and I, poking each other in the ribs as Kaleb took our picture.
(How come he looks normal when I'm poking him, but I look like a stumbling drunk or something??). This next picture is of Kaleb and Jacob next to the "can". They first stood there about 2 feet apart until I told them to "act like they knew each other". This is the pose they gave me for my efforts:
And here's Randey and the boys. After we left Dublin, we drove up thru Granbury and had lunch at Babe's. Don't even get me started on the food at Babe's. Yum-O! Their smoked chicken is the best! Once we got lunch out of the way, we headed back home (had to drop off Randey's left-overs) and then on to the movie theater where we saw Indiana Jones 4.
I wish I hadn't of listened to the critics take on this movie...I spent too much time "thinking" about it instead of just enjoying it. I think I'm going to go see it again. I mean I liked it, I liked it a lot, I just think I missed too much of it because I was trying to see what the critics had pointed out in their reviews. Dumb critics. Don't know why I ever even bother to read a review from the likes of them.
Before I stop for today, I want to clarify why I asked if anyone knew the definition of "curmudgeon" in my last post. And no, people, it's not because someone called me one nor was it because I didn't have enough sense to look it up in a dictionary. I asked because I was surprised that my own teenage sons had never heard the word before. A couple of months ago, we were at a reception hosted by Texas Tech. It was one of those college recruitment things for Kaleb. While there, one of the speakers said something about not promising the students that they wouldn't run into the occasional "curmudgeon" within the ranks of the professors and then she said "Ah. Curmudgeon. Our vocabulary word of the day.". I sort of laughed and said "Like everyone in this room doesn't already know what a curmudgeon is" and Kaleb and Jacob both looked at me and said they'd never heard the word before. What the heck? I thought they would have learned that already, either through vocabulary testing and/or English lit. I know it's not a word we use here at home often (although if Randey's attitude keeps deteriorating, that could change. lololol). When I expressed my shock that my boys didn't know that word, I was informed (and I won't say who was doing the informing) that it wasn't a very "common" word and most people probably didn't know what it meant. Bull-hockey, I say! So I was asking you guys if you knew the meaning. (Wow. Talk about a long, drawn out story to explain something, huh?) Anyway, that's why the question was asked. So don't start sending me e-mail addressed to "Ms. Curmudgeon", thinking that's become my new nick-name, okie-dokie?
The rest of this post is for the scrapbookers out there. I wanted to show you my Mini-Moon booklet. It'll serve as a forever reminder of what goober pet owners Randey and I are. lol
And finally...may you all take the time to think about and remember those who have given their lives so that we may have our freedoms. Memorial Day is for them. May God Bless their souls.


(Click to enlarge photos)

Behold.....

The Dog Door. I don't know who invented this thing, but give that woman (or man) a cigar! Sydney took to the concept of free access right away. In and out, in and out. Blu, on the other hand, took some persuading. At one point, we even had Jacob crawling in and out just to show Blu it was okay. Don't laugh...that's how we got him into his Igloo dog house when we first brought that home, too. Jake actually had to crawl inside and call Blu in after him. (Which made Jake getting out a bit of a challenge, but that's another story.) We've had this installed for about a week now and the dogs have adjusted quite well to it. Tomorrow we're going to do a "test run". We're going to leave the dogs alone all day while we check out the Dr. Pepper Museum in Waco and the Dublin Dr. Pepper Bottling Plant in Dublin (Texas, of course). I think they'll be fine, but we'll see how Sydney does with his abandonment issues with us away for the whole day. Hopefully, we won't come home and find him sprawled out in our bed with a bottle of tequila and a pack of cigarettes, lamenting the fact that his family has left him.... (BTW, thank you to Scott for briefing Randey on the stupidity of taking a pet with us on our Mini-Moon. It really was his idea, as you so accurately surmised. Really, it was! lol)

I have to tell you about something we saw at a new restaurant here in town. They had just opened when this happened, and you could tell that they train their employees using a "repetition" method. The employee who was handling the waiting list wasn't at the door when we arrived, so we gave our name at the hostess stand. Shortly thereafter, the list person showed back up. We took seats near the entrance and watched as other patrons came in and were placed on the waiting list. The girl with the list asked the same questions to every single party that came in. "How many?" "Smoking or non-smoking?" (they still have smoking sections here) "Will you be needing a high-chair?". Yeah. The 2 men with the teenaged boy who came in were asked if they needed a high-chair. The man and woman who came in and asked for a table for 2 were asked if they needed a high-chair. The guy who came in all by his lonesome was asked if he needed a high chair. I thought I was going to fall off the bench laughing at the looks on their faces. They'd all sort of pause after she asked...and then seeing that she wasn't kidding, would answer "nooooo" like they were talking to the village idiot. Which maybe she was, who knows.

Some of you already know this, but it's not something I'm overly happy about myself; my husband is a Nascar fan. Yessir. Randey loves him some Nascar. Go figure.

As my father says, what's the point of this "sport"? You already know they're turning left at every corner and the only time it gets exciting is when someone doesn't. But whatever, it makes him happy to watch so who am I to complain? However, there's a couple of things about Nascar that just scream IRONY to me! Like the fact that their weekly qualifying races for the pole position are sponsored by a beer company. Uh-huh. What the heck does that say to America? "Don't drink and drive! But have a beer to celebrate driving the fastest!"???? Another thing, the drivers refer to themselves as "athletes". (Because sitting in a car going 200 miles an hour every week is almost like running a marathon, right?) But these "athletes" biggest sponsor was a cigarette company up until the '90's. Because nothin' says Athlete like a pack of smokes and a twelve pack of Bud (or Coors or whoever it is that's sponsoring the pole race these days), right? To (loosely) paraphrase The Bard...Nascar, thy name is Irony.
One more totally unrelated and nonsensical thing...why is the word "kidnap" and not "kidnab"? I mean, if you grab someone against their will, are you doing so to lay them down for their afternoon sabbatical or are you taking them in an underhanded and snatching manner? Stupid question, I know, but something that I wonder about. (Yes. I hear you. "Kari, get a hobby".) Fine. I'll stop trying to understand the evolution of the English language. It's probably too much to comprehend anyway.

P.S. Just as a matter of interest, how many of you know what a "curmudgeon" is? (Yes, I'm seriously asking this question.)

The Bra Olympics

Who says women are the weaker sex? Forget about the whole giving birth thing, forget about needing that degree in accounting just to keep the bills straight, forget about cooking, cleaning and organizing a household. Forget about all the things that your average, everyday woman does that would cripple your average, everyday man if he had to endure them. Because even if you take all those things out of the equation, I still say a woman is mentally and emotionally stronger than a man could ever be. And just how and why have I arrived at this astonishing conclusion? Well I'll tell you. A man never, ever has to shop for and/or wear a bra. Period. Talk about a Test of Strength! Bra shopping could, and probably should, qualify as an Olympic sport. First of all, not only do bra sizes differ from manufacturer to manufacturer, but they sometimes differ style to style within the same manufacturer (i.e., the Beautiful Benefits bra, size 38C by Vanity Fair, may fit so differently than, say... the Body Elegance, size 38C, also by Vanity Fair, that you may actually wear a different size in that style!). So to buy a new bra, you can't just waltz into the store, pick up "your size", then traipse on over to the register with it. No, sir. You have to pick about 450 different bras to take to the dressing room to try on. Six at a time. (As most of you women know, most stores tend to frown on you taking copious amounts of clothing into a dressing room with you so they limit the number of garments you can take at any one time). So say you "normally" wear a 38C...that means you have to not just find that size, but you also need to check out some 40C's, some 36C's, some 38B's and some 38D's. All in the hopes that one of those sizes will actually corral your girls into some sort of perky, figure enhancing style without actually causing grievous bodily harm to your shoulders, your back and/or to your girls themselves. 'Course, there are stores that have an "attendant". A person who will not only bring you different bras in different sizes, but will also assist you in donning said bras and adjusting the straps accordingly. However. This little chicken (i.e., ME) is not terribly comfortable with having a strange woman jerk me around while trying to snag "the twins" into a set of elastic bowl-like devices. (Heck, I'm not even comfortable with a familiar woman doing that, much less a strange one, but let's not digress.) If you're looking for two different types of bra (for example; a strapless bra and a sports bra) your work is pretty much doubled. Sports bras don't fit the same as a strapless. In fact, no two types of bra fit the same. And heaven knows, they have enough different types out there to torture a person with. So many, in fact, that simply deciding what kind of bra you need can be a mind binder. There's the underwire bra, the wireless bra, the demi-cup bra, the full cup bra...there's the padded bra, the shelf bra, the t-shirt bra and the convertible bra. There's also the minimizer bra, as well as the maximizer bra. I even saw a sign in the dressing room at Kohls that said "Discover our newest brand of intimate apparel....The Push-up Plunge Bra"! Say what? Push up and plunge?? My girls immediately started writhing in agony and I had to cut my shopping trip short just to go home and apply an ice pack to my chest. Oh, okay. That's a lie. But what kind of goofy name is that for a bra anyway? I mean, honestly. I won't even get into the strange visuals that crazy name inspired. Suffice it to say, I think someone down at the ad agency has a sick sense of humor and some idiot at Kohls fell for his joke.

Anywho, whether you call your bra a "Push-up Plunge" or a double-barreled slingshot, a "Live-It-Up Seamless" or a booby trap, the fact remains that shopping for a bra is not for the feint of heart...and actually wearing one should qualify a woman for a merit badge in Long-Term Torture Survival. I don't believe I've met the man who could stand up to the kind of punishment bra wearing entails. But in the interest of fairness, I'm willing to be proven wrong. You fellas, go ahead, strap on a Man Bra and wear it for a week or so. Then let me know how "weak" you think I am afterwards, okay? I'm just saying.