Archives for March 2010

March 31, 2010 by: The Domestic Fringe

A New Age

This is my mom.

This is my mom on drugs.

Any questions?

I am giving my mom a hard time, because today is her birthday. She DOES NOT use drugs. She only pretends for pictures.

This past weekend we had the chance to spend some time together and a moment on Sunday morning turned into an impromptu photo shoot. You see, I had just added blush and lipstick and had to snap a picture. Besides, she had her hair done and I thought it looked great.

The only problem is that my mom never keeps her eyes open for a picture. If all you knew of my mom was from pictures in an album, you would think she was blind.

Thankfully she can still see. She also still has her own teeth…just in case you were wondering.

My mom likes to cling to the age of twenty-nine, but when the grandkid’s stop buying your story, drastic measures must be taken. So this year mom, you’re going to need to age.

Forget the botox! This year you are turning 40.

AGAIN

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

You are smart and beautiful, nothing short of an amazing woman. You charge through life with a CAN-DO spirit, getting things done. You’ve taken the trials of the last year and worked them into something wonderful. And of course, you still have your own teeth. 😉

So make it a another great year.

Love Ya!

Let’s give my mom a great birthday in blogland, leave her a comment!

March 30, 2010 by: The Domestic Fringe

A Need To Remember

Sometimes I just need to remember a time when the sky was blue and flowers bloomed, because…

As God as my witness, I will wear flip-flops again!

March 29, 2010 by: The Domestic Fringe

Wild Dogs, The Nile River, & Other Oddities

* My son mastered Hark The Herald Angels Sing on his kazoo at 7am.

* My daughter says we live near the Nile River. Let’s just hope I don’t find a baby in the bulrushes.

* Either I am getting old or walking too much, because suddenly comfort trumps cute. I need a hybrid of a sandal and a sneaker, good for walking miles. Any suggestions?

* Very squirrely colorless hairs are taking over my head.

* Speaking of gray hair, my mother’s birthday is on Wednesday and I will be revealing her new hair color and pictures from an impromptu photo shoot this weekend. Brace yourself mom!

* My mother and I sat through How To Train Your Dragon without eating pop-corn. I feel like we should get a medal of willpower.

* My dog definitely has ADHD. She also knows how to open the back door. My neighbors may band together and kick me out of the neighborhood.

Have a HAPPY MONDAY!

In other news…find out how many women are letting it all hang out. Click HERE.

If you would like an Easter cake recipe complete with grass and peeps, click HERE.

March 26, 2010 by: The Domestic Fringe

Child Style by Heather Hill

Today I want to introduce you to Heather Hill, a truly unique boutique.

Heather designs clothing that is fun, funky, and fabulous, but shoppers aren’t limited to her creations alone.

From a variety of beautiful fabrics, you and your daughter can create a personalized wardrobe.

Is there anything cuter than a little girl wrapped in happy colors and playful patterns?

Heather is actually family, but I’ve not been privileged to meet her. Yet.

Our grandmother’s were sisters.

It’s shocking I can share the same blood line with someone so talented.

Obviously she got all the creative genes in the family.

I’m so happy to have been introduced to her fabulous shop.

I can’t wait to order my daughter some clothes!

Go visit Heather Hill by clicking HERE.

Tell her you were referred by the domestic fringe.

Have fun shopping!

March 24, 2010 by: The Domestic Fringe

Tuesday’s Nonsense

On Tuesday I began my day by filling out a form that required both my height and weight, so I pulled up my big-girl panties (different from granny panties by at least 3 yards of fabric) and noted my weight. My last run-in with a scale wasn’t long ago, so I felt like I was telling the truth; however, by late afternoon guilt started to creep into my head and eat at my heart. Guilt is never good, especially when associated with weight, so I marched upstairs and stepped onto the scale. After all, the truth will set you free…it even says that in the Bible.

The surprise of all time came when I realized that I actually overestimated my weight by two pounds. That is most likely the stupidest thing a woman could do. At any rate, I owe every ounce of my two pounds of weight loss to my new jump rope. I read on someone’s blog that 15 minutes of jumping rope burns more calories than 15 minutes of jogging. Now I can’t remember where I read that information, so if it was on your blog, do remind me in the comments. Thanks.

Don’t bother making any memory loss comments, because then I will stop liking you.

Not really. I’ll just forget it was you anyway.

Back to my two dollar and thirty-seven cent jump rope…

Jumping rope is much easier when you are ten. Remember I told you that. I can only imagine how much weight I would have lost if I had sprung for the six-dollar and eighty-three cent weighted jump rope. Then there was the twenty dollar rope…the possibilities are exciting. Now I just have to get past forty-three jumps without messing up.

Around lunchtime my mother called and asked what I was doing.

“Watching someone get arrested.” I said nonchalantly.

Although I’m hard on Mrs. Kravitz, I identify with her; however, by the time someone gets to the place of being handcuffed and a riding downtown in a police car with its bubble lights flashing, you no longer need to hide your snooping. Throw caution to the wind and gawk. While you’re at it, stand around with complete strangers and theorize as to the details of his arrest. It is nearly as much fun as watching a rerun of Matlock.

I didn’t think anything could top the arrest, it was quite drawn out, but I underestimated the power of a Tuesday afternoon. You see Tuesday is the night we put out the trash in my neighborhood. I had just returned from the post-office when I spotted the teenage boy across the street piling junk high at the curb. Sitting casually out in front was the bestest lawn chair ever.

I ran right over.

“You’re not really throwing that chair out are you?” I asked.

“You mean the ugly one.” He responded with a scrunched up look on his face.

“Of course the ugly one! You see I have this disease and it’s called bad taste. Have you seen my new shoes?”

You get the point.

I got the lawn chair.

Now the big question is where to put it?

In the words of my cousin, “How about the lawn?”

Duh!

She’s so simple.

March 22, 2010 by: The Domestic Fringe

Electrify My Bed

A few days of sunshine and my face is so speckled I don’t recognize myself in the mirror; however, the effects of the sun reach deep, changing more than my skin’s surface. I suddenly find myself doing silly things like jumping rope and leaving unsigned notes on the front seat of a certain man’s Jeep.

With the pockets of my sweatshirt stuffed with tissues, an asthma inhaler, and cell phone, I searched the kitchen for Oriana’s leash. My eyes lighted on the silver links just as an image of FringeMan filtered through my mind. He was working on a house in our town and I knew the road. Without much thought I grabbed a pen and snatched a piece of loose-leaf paper my daughter uses to practice her spelling words. I then scribbled a little message, folded up the paper, and added it to the growing pile of junk in my pocket. I grabbed the dog, took a deep breath, and headed out for a walk.

That sounds simple, but in reality it’s kinda like one of those cartoons where you see the leashed dog running wildly down the road with a harried woman floating in the air a few feet behind, terrified to release the leash. I am that woman.

As soon as I rounded the corner onto the street where FringeMan was working, I noticed his vehicle. I couldn’t miss it, because it’s plastered with a few of those signs that nearly landed him in jail. Ironically, the signs still hang in various locations around our town. The local officers haven’t complained, so as long as we are all happy, they add beauty to our local landscape. Really, they do.

Stealthily I opened the driver’s side front door and the dog jumped in and wouldn’t come out. This is partly because she’s now worn out from our psychotic run, but mostly because I walked into the road and she’s terrified of moving traffic ever since her near death experience on the side of a van.

Finally I coax her out, unfold the note, and lay it out on the seat. Slamming the creaking door, we took off at a run. I’m sure the Mrs. Cravitz’s of the neighborhood were certain I just stole toll change from the cupholder, but as long FringeMan didn’t see us, we were good.

My note said something like…

I am looking for an electrician to put an outlet in my living room,

hang a chandelier in my dining room,

and electrify my bed.

Now, we’ve been married for twelve years and I’ve left him thousands of notes. They usually have words like “pick up milk”, “please stop for bread on your way home,” and “don’t forget the kitchen pipe burst and flooded the first floor.” But still, he should recognize the handwriting. Shouldn’t he?

Apparently not. He skimmed the first two lines of the note, saw ‘outlets’ and ‘chandelier’, immediately stopped reading and searched for a phone number. When he couldn’t locate a number, he stopped to reread and began having heart palpitations.

Self-consciously he looked over his shoulder, up and down the street, and panicked. He said he felt like Joseph working in Potipher’s house and thought, “I’d better tell Tricia before she kills me.”

So he hopped in the car and swung by the house. Only I wasn’t there and the dog was missing too. Realization dawned and my phone began to ring. He’s so easy to fool!

My recommendation for you this week…

Leave your husband an unsigned note and make sure he doesn’t recognize your handwriting. He’ll get a kick out of it and you may get some fringe benefits too.

Thank me later. 😉

March 20, 2010 by: The Domestic Fringe

Chocolate Balls with M&M’s of Course

This recipe came from my mom, so there’s no telling where it originated. I just know that I love these little chocolate balls more than I love being thin. They should definitely come with a warning, because there’s no way to keep them out of your mouth. Before you know it they are all resting happily in your hips; however, they are worth ever last mile you will need to run in order to compensate for their calories.

You know, I think that also makes them good for your heart. Yes, these chocolate balls get you moving…Good for the Hips, Good for the Heart!

Fancy Huh?

Here’s what you need:

1 stick butter, 2/3c. milk, 1 box brownie mix, 3c. quick cooking oats, 1tsp. vanilla extract, 1c. peanut butter, 1c. mini m&m’s, (coconut or powdered sugar or sprinkles – optional)

Here’s what you do:

In a saucepan melt the butter and add the milk. stir continuously until hot. Add the brownie mix and quick cooking oats. Stir for about 2 minutes. The pot will be full and this won’t be the easy thing to mix, but you can count it as a workout for your biceps/triceps.

In a large bowl, mix in the vanilla, peanut butter, and the saucepan combination. Mix thoroughly. Now add your M&M’s and stir until mixed.

Put in the fridge overnight. The next day, take your mix and roll spoonfuls into little bite-sized balls. If you’d like, you can roll these balls in coconut, powdered sugar, or sprinkles. Try not to eat too many, but they can take over life in a second, so be careful.

Store these goodies in the fridge or the freezer and consume whenever the urge strikes. When my son was a toddler, I’d keep a container of these in the large chest freezer and I’d always find him trying to get the freezer open. Luckily he wasn’t tall enough or strong enough, but he knew where I kept the goods.

As a bonus, I have a little organizational tip for you.

I know…now close your mouth.

Get over the shock.

I realize this is like a man giving you a tip on pregnancy (what can they possibly know about growing a baby for 9 months), but I managed to gleam some organizational nuggets through the years and because I love you, I want to share.

I give full credit for this tip to my friend and former neighbor Jeannie. If I didn’t spend so much time lounging at her counter flipping through her books and magazines while she cooked, my recipe cards may still be in a jumble; however, one day I happened upon her little notebook. She took all those recipes that you clip out of magazines and lose in your junk drawer and she taped them into a notebook. It’s genius! All your clipping confined to a notebook make it easy to answer the question “What’s for dinner?”

I need a manicure before I start modeling my fingers...sorry.

Now if you’re OCD or a complete organizational nut, you can create categories and so on. I’m just lucky I got all my cards and clippings together in one book.

If you’d like to meet Jeannie (otherwise known as the ‘mail order bride’), click HERE.

If you’d like to learn more about my mom (and who wouldn’t), click HERE.

Have a happy weekend and if you get fat, don’t blame me.

This post is linked to MyCup2Yours. Go visit for more great recipes. Click HERE.