I was inspired by Shannon this weekend- we borrow ideas from each other from time to time. Well, I borrow ideas from her, at least. I'm not sure she's decorating her nursery to look like Marge Simpson- but I swear, it happened by accident- I always choose a color paint that's not what I wanted (hence the Simpsons flesh-toned walls) the crib that we like just happened to be blue and cartoony shaped (bee hive inspired) so I figure well do some green floor-length drapes (dress inspired) and get some red paper lanterns (necklace/shoes inspiration) along the ceiling to finish the job. Kids like bright colors so I hope this move makes up for my baby's first bed being next to a toilet. Have I mentioned that I'm already running for mom of the year (MOTY) already?
My new camera is waiting to be picked up at the UPS joint by the airport so I'll start taking less grainy pictures. Hopefully I'll have some proof that not everything I do is a poorly-executed great idea.
Anyway, I digress. Fancy is coming in just 98 days. I remember our 98 Days celebration at Prendie like it was yesterday. I can't imagine almost being 30, yet alone a mom, and it's all happening over the next six months. BUT if this Sunday night with Ava is any indication of what kind of a mom I'm going to be, I think we'll fair well. It was bath time for Cub and she was tired after a LONG day of a friend from school's third birthday party- she didn't get her nap so just about everything (but mostly uncle Todd- she's afraid of most men these days) was setting her off into a fit of crying and rage. It's really hard not to laugh at their fits. (I'll make sure I put this statement on my MOTY nomination.)
So we were in the bath room and I was trying to convince her that she needed to get in but she INSISTED on having Gramma bathe her. She started to cry a little so I told her if she wasn't going to get in the tub, I was going to. She looked at me- basically calling my bluff- with the hairy stink eye so I knew I had to keep my act up. I took off my shoes and socks, rolled up my pants and got in the tub in my clothes. Thank goodness for strong enough quads and hammies- I was able to hover riiiiiiight over the water for about five minutes and she got a kick out of Aunt Sarah in the tub with her clothes on. Now, I didn't win 100%- she didn't get in the tub until Gramma came in but we 100% avoided a meltdown...and she even thought it was pretty funny so I got some giggles and grins at least.
Now for my Shannon inspiration: Shannon threw a 70s themed 40th birthday party for John. The centerpiece of the dessert table was a chocolate fountain flowing with the stuff that dreams are made of. Luckily, my friends and they're significant others are not disgusting- a fact that I am so thankful for. They're generally clean people who (as far as I know) practice the art of hand washing. Normally I don't participate in a fountain of any kind unless I get first crack at it because I don't know where people put their disgusting hands. AND- how do I know they don't have some sort of communicable disease? I don't. I digress again.
So the point of this story is that Shannon bought the fountain for the party. A chocolate fountain is one of those appliances that everyone secretly (or, who am I kidding, overtly) wants but rarely purchases because- ...what am I going to do with a gun rack? Use it for the one party? Then if I get to cleaning it before the dried chocolate ruins (or 'runes' depending on your dialect) it I consider it a winning effort and put it away with the other rarely used misfit toys. BUT- Shannon was smart. She found that ish new, in the box, second hand. Awesome.
Now back to me. I've been longing for a juicer for some time now. Jay Kordich and his eye brows have been taunting me for as long as I can remember with his train wreck infomercials about delicious nectar from fresh fruits. With the help of his juicer he promises long life and decadent beverages- who doesn't want in on that? Enter shady exchanges from Craigslist. I'm a woman of a certain number of months pregnant. I'm in NO position to go to a strangers house and pick up their discarded juicer six months pregnant. So, I figured Todd was better suited for this transaction since he's been training for a marathon- as least he could run if things go sour. He called "Cook" from Broomall (he seriously asked Todd to call him this) and they arranged to trade $10 for the Juiceman Electronic Professional 410 Series at Cook's black pick up truck at the Media R3 train station.
After a thorough cleaning of said machine this morning I dumped in slices of lemon, a big 'ol chunk of water melon and cored apple (to ward off too much lemon bitterness) for my first shot. Shit worked like a charm and I was even able to find the instruction manual online!
More recipes here. All thanks to this guy:
My new camera is waiting to be picked up at the UPS joint by the airport so I'll start taking less grainy pictures. Hopefully I'll have some proof that not everything I do is a poorly-executed great idea.
Anyway, I digress. Fancy is coming in just 98 days. I remember our 98 Days celebration at Prendie like it was yesterday. I can't imagine almost being 30, yet alone a mom, and it's all happening over the next six months. BUT if this Sunday night with Ava is any indication of what kind of a mom I'm going to be, I think we'll fair well. It was bath time for Cub and she was tired after a LONG day of a friend from school's third birthday party- she didn't get her nap so just about everything (but mostly uncle Todd- she's afraid of most men these days) was setting her off into a fit of crying and rage. It's really hard not to laugh at their fits. (I'll make sure I put this statement on my MOTY nomination.)
So we were in the bath room and I was trying to convince her that she needed to get in but she INSISTED on having Gramma bathe her. She started to cry a little so I told her if she wasn't going to get in the tub, I was going to. She looked at me- basically calling my bluff- with the hairy stink eye so I knew I had to keep my act up. I took off my shoes and socks, rolled up my pants and got in the tub in my clothes. Thank goodness for strong enough quads and hammies- I was able to hover riiiiiiight over the water for about five minutes and she got a kick out of Aunt Sarah in the tub with her clothes on. Now, I didn't win 100%- she didn't get in the tub until Gramma came in but we 100% avoided a meltdown...and she even thought it was pretty funny so I got some giggles and grins at least.
Now for my Shannon inspiration: Shannon threw a 70s themed 40th birthday party for John. The centerpiece of the dessert table was a chocolate fountain flowing with the stuff that dreams are made of. Luckily, my friends and they're significant others are not disgusting- a fact that I am so thankful for. They're generally clean people who (as far as I know) practice the art of hand washing. Normally I don't participate in a fountain of any kind unless I get first crack at it because I don't know where people put their disgusting hands. AND- how do I know they don't have some sort of communicable disease? I don't. I digress again.
So the point of this story is that Shannon bought the fountain for the party. A chocolate fountain is one of those appliances that everyone secretly (or, who am I kidding, overtly) wants but rarely purchases because- ...what am I going to do with a gun rack? Use it for the one party? Then if I get to cleaning it before the dried chocolate ruins (or 'runes' depending on your dialect) it I consider it a winning effort and put it away with the other rarely used misfit toys. BUT- Shannon was smart. She found that ish new, in the box, second hand. Awesome.
Now back to me. I've been longing for a juicer for some time now. Jay Kordich and his eye brows have been taunting me for as long as I can remember with his train wreck infomercials about delicious nectar from fresh fruits. With the help of his juicer he promises long life and decadent beverages- who doesn't want in on that? Enter shady exchanges from Craigslist. I'm a woman of a certain number of months pregnant. I'm in NO position to go to a strangers house and pick up their discarded juicer six months pregnant. So, I figured Todd was better suited for this transaction since he's been training for a marathon- as least he could run if things go sour. He called "Cook" from Broomall (he seriously asked Todd to call him this) and they arranged to trade $10 for the Juiceman Electronic Professional 410 Series at Cook's black pick up truck at the Media R3 train station.
After a thorough cleaning of said machine this morning I dumped in slices of lemon, a big 'ol chunk of water melon and cored apple (to ward off too much lemon bitterness) for my first shot. Shit worked like a charm and I was even able to find the instruction manual online!
More recipes here. All thanks to this guy:
Comments
"Yeah"
"You got the juicer?"
Nods.
Hands $10 through window.
Receives bag of juicer through window.
"It makes juice"
"Thanks Cook"