September 3, 2015

Iced Coffee with Homemade Vanilla Creamer

I cannot believe it’s been nearly one month since my last post. This summer has flown by as quickly as a seagull flying for a french fry. I guess that’s what happens when you make a major move. Life kinda gets flipped upside down, and everything that makes up “life” gets scattered. I think we’re slowly working ourselves into a routine for our days. Getting back on a school schedule will definitely help.

In the meantime, I’ve learned how to make quick and easy iced coffee with real vanilla creamer.

Now, all of you up in the Northeast are like, what? The leaves are already turning color and floating through the air.

You want Pumpkin Spice in your coffee, not ice! Am I right?

I apologize people.

It’s still in the 90’s in Virginia. At this rate, I’ll be putting ice in my coffee till Christmas!

Iced Coffee Recipe

I’m going to be honest here. I don’t do anything particularly fancy with the coffee I use for my iced coffee. I simply brew a pot of coffee, have my husband drink the hot stuff, and then I pour whatever is leftover into a mason jar. I refrigerate and add to it daily.

I brew fairly strong coffee, so I don’t even adjust the amount of grounds I use. My general method is one heaping tablespoon (an actual utensil and not a measuring spoon) for every two cups of water. Then I set my pot to “strong brew”. For some reason, this coffee maker has the option of regular brew and strong brew. When in doubt, I always choose strong.

If you want a fancy iced-coffee recipe, use the Pioneer Woman’s recipe. It’s the real deal; however, I consider myself to be pretty low maintenance. My husband may tell a different story, but if a recipe requires me to go buy cheesecloth, I generally just skip it.

Call me lazy if you must, but I need something quicker for daily consumption. Caffeine is not a luxury in the morning; it’s a necessity.

Homemade Real Vanilla Coffee Creamer

I’m a fan of flavored coffee creamers, so I decided to try making my own.

As many of you know, I make my own vanilla extract. One wild and stormy day, I even set up shop and sold it at our town’s Garlic Festival. You don’t need to make your own vanilla extract for this recipe, but I definitely recommend using pure vanilla extract and not imitation vanilla.

In a large mason jar, mix together one can of sweetened condensed milk with two cups of 2% milk. If you want to be indulgent (I totally think that’s okay once in a while.), then use whole milk or half-and-half. Add two tablespoons of pure vanilla extract, shake until combined, and refrigerate.

It’s yummy!

I fill a mason jar with ice, pour my coffee over top, and add a healthy portion of homemade vanilla creamer. Then I go find a cozy spot on the porch and enjoy.

Now, go forth and caffeinate thyself.

If you try it, I hope you like it!

August 4, 2015

Virginia Home Tour – Living Room

Today is part 2 of my little home tour. (Click here for Part 1 – Sitting Room) I always enjoy when other bloggers share glimpses of their home, so I’d thought I’d do the same.

For those of you who are new around here, we moved from New York to Virginia one month ago. Needless to say, I still have boxes that need unpacking and there are some empty spaces in our new house. As much as I know that we need a few more pieces of furniture to make entertaining comfortable for everyone, I’m kind of enjoying the uncluttered look of things.

Living Room

This is our living room. Before we left New York, our Walmart had tons of discontinued Waverly fabric on clearance. I bought up all they had of my favorite patterns, in hopes that I’d be able to use it in this house. So far, I’ve made curtains for four rooms and recovered a bunch of throw pillows. I’m so glad I thought ahead!

I made that giant wooden sign years ago. I wasn’t sure if I’d find a place for it in this house, but I think it works here in our dining room.

The fun flowered pillow is from Alisa Burke’s shop. She’s a super-talented artist who also blogs. I fell in love with her art about a year ago, and ordered this pillow for my birthday. You can visit her on her blog, check out her art, and even take one of her online classes. She has the cutest little family!

I’m using this old wooden crate as a side table. That lamp was a $1 DIY project I did a while back. It’s been in my bedroom, office, and now in the living room. It’s officially a traveling lamp with a wonky shade.

There’s a cute little built-in bookshelf in the living room, but I’ve decided not to use it for books. I’m not exactly sure what I want to do with it yet, but for now it’s housing my collection of little glass bottles.

All of these bottles have been dug up from the ground. Some came from our yard in Maine, but the majority came from New York. The kids on our street knew I collected them, so they’d dig them up out of their backyards and bring them to me. Kids can be really cool sometimes, even the pain-in-the-neck kids.

My daughter spied this little cup and saucer at a yard sale right before we left NY. Now, you know I couldn’t leave it there!

We need an area rug, don’t we? I think all the home design people on HGTV would say I need an area rug, so I’ve added it to mental list of things we need for the house.

Here’s the thing:

1. Rugs are expensive.

2. Area rugs are difficult to pick out.

3. Rugs are expensive.

Oh, did I mention rugs cost a lot of money? I think you get my point. The “perfect rug” may be on my list for a while.

Then, there’s the other side of the living room. It’s not so great at the moment. We’re working on it, but I’ll show it you anyway.

Please excuse the random commercial on the television, and the paint chipped kitchen table, and the ball of wires.

We all love this room. It’s very comfortable and it gets lots of light. There’s even a door that leads out to the porch.

Thanks for joining me for Part 2 of my house tour!

You can view my NY living room here. I always think it’s fun to see how furniture looks from one house to the next.

July 31, 2015

Virginia Home Tour – Sitting Room

Moving from New York to Virginia has been huge for me. I’m not sure why, because I’ve moved out-of-state before, but this time it felt a bit monumental, like a forever after kind of move.

We don’t plan on going anywhere for a very long time folks.

There are so many aspects of this move that I can blog about, and quite honestly, it’s a little overwhelming. I don’t think I’m ready to dig deep and give you post you can share one million and one times on social media. I’m not there yet.

However, I can show you pictures of my house. Wanna see?

I’m not exactly done unpacking. I know I should be done by now, but I don’t have places to put everything just yet. I need bookcases and a few other pieces of furniture to make life flow smoothly in the house. Buying those things will take some time, so for now, we’re rocking the boxes, the empty spaces, and the bare walls.

I think this house was built in the 20’s, but I could be wrong. I also think it has always been the parsonage, the house church owns and uses to house it’s pastor and family.

The Sitting Room

This is our sitting room in the front entry. When you walk in our front door, this is what you see.

Those are paintings on the loveseat, and they still need to be framed and hung. I bought them at an arts & crafts show before we left New York.

My gallery wall is quite eclectic. That’s a fancy way of saying it’s a mixture of art and junk that’s been spray painted. It’s also crooked, has a painting with a cracked frame, and is not at all hung straight.

I love it. Seriously, I do. This space just makes me happy.

I hung each of these pieces with my son, and we really didn’t measure. I’m terrible with numbers, and knew I would stress myself out if I over-planned this gallery wall. So, I just began hanging things.

I have art from a few local artists in New York, a piece from an artist in Maine, some of my kids paintings, and a stained glass cross made by the wife of one my husband’s co-workers. Everything has some meaning, even the little yard sale painting and the ugly rooster. The blanket and the painting of the woman on the beach came from one of my blog readers. She sent me those years ago, and I think of her every time I see them.

This is the other side of the front entry way, opposite the gallery wall. It’s empty at the moment, but my plan is to put a tall bookcase in the corner and an armchair in front of the bookcase. Curtains would be nice too, and I have a rug already picked out.

This house is quite a bit larger than our house in New York, so it will take time (aka money) to finish furnishing it, possibly quite a big of time.

We’re still in the same room. These stairs go to the second floor and around to the kitchen, a feature we all think is pretty awesome.

That painting, the one that’s hung way too high, was my grandparents. I know it was special to them, and I love that I can have it hanging in my home.

My plan was to give you a complete house tour in one post, but it’s not going to work. I’d have to write about two thousand words to make that happen, and let’s face it, you wouldn’t read anything past the first paragraph. So, let’s quit here, and we’ll pick up in the dining room on Monday . Deal?

What’s your favorite room in your house?

If you blog, feel free to leave a link to your house tour in the comments. I would love to virtually stop by for a visit. I’m sure some of my readers would too!

July 30, 2015

I be Jammin

Ya’ll,

(I feel like I should say ya’ll now, since I’ve been in the south for nearly a month; however, I’m still confused on where to place my apostrophe. I’m sure “ya’ll – y’all” have opinions, so feel free to share.)

I made blackberry jam today.

#whatwasithinking

An hour into the ordeal, I thought I was going to lose my mind. I’m here to tell you that making jam is not as easy as it sounds. You boil empty jars, crush berries, boil them for one minute shy of an eternity (or until they become a gummy bear), fill the jars, and then boil them again. It’s germ warfare at it’s finest!

I gave myself a berry facial and it was berry good. Strawberry Shortcake would be proud.

Now, I need to get a job before I start making bread, or heaven forbid, peanut butter to go with my jelly.

I’m not cut out for the culinary life. I would not have survived two hundred years ago. I would not survive today if left to my own kitchen skills. Some crazy people are dropped into the wild, naked and afraid. I can stay in town, clothed and calm, but if I couldn’t get to the grocery store, I’d starve.

#coldhardtruth

I’m into hashtags lately? Can you tell?? It’s probably because I’m spending my days with a fifteen year-old goofball who hashtags everything. This is the same boy who couldn’t identify a pound sign.

#gofigure

#kidsthesedays

I’m not sure I should admit this, but it took me three solid hours to make six jars of jam, the small jars. I think I need intervention. Actually, cooking lessons may be more useful.

The first two jars came out super runny, so I wrote syrup on a label. Tomorrow morning I will make pancakes and pretend my making blackberry syrup was intentional.

I still don’t know what went wrong. The instructions said to rapid boil the berry concoction for one minute. I did that and got syrup, so I boiled the next batch for ten minutes.

My husband has taken to calling it tar.

#enoughsaid

Girls like me, we are the reason someone had to start the website farmersonly.com.

Despite the runny jam and the tar, I feel mildly accomplished today. I be jammin.

July 29, 2015

On Hobbies, Children, & Polymer Clay

Few are fortunate enough to begin doing what they love in childhood. Many spend their entire lives “finding themselves”, searching for the things that make them feel alive, fulfilled, and satisfied. Too often, they never truly come into their own, and carve out their niche in this world. Many talents are left undiscovered.

Have you found your hobby, the activity you love doing and make time to do as often as is possible?

In many ways, I still feel like I’m floundering, trying this or that. I’ll like something for a time, but eventually put it down, never to pick it up again.

Can you relate?

Have you run through the gamut of hobbies?

We are a family brimming over with hobbies. From water sports, to sewing, to music, we have tried a lot of things. Some of those hobbies, we enjoy very much, and others quickly became a chore.

My daughter is the only one of us who never really found something she loved doing (besides reading).

For a time, this became a real source of stress for her. I think she spent so much time watching the rest of us create our own art (I use the term “art” very loosely.) and do things we love and are passionate about, that she felt left out, kinda like she was missing out on something.

She tried music, painting, sewing, scrapbooking, and the list goes on. She liked some of those things, but they definitely were not her passion.

As a mom, I wasn’t really sure what to do. I honestly didn’t think it was that big of a deal, because after all, she’s still just a kid. I mean, she’s got her whole live to find her hobby, right?

But, when your kid hurts, you hurt. #momlife

I just hated to see her stressing out over a hobby, so I suggested things, Googled “hobbies for kids”, took trips to arts & crafts superstores, and simply encouraged her to try new things.

We don’t always know what we’re going to like doing until we actually try doing it.

When was the last time you tried doing something new?

One day, out of nowhere, she said, “I want to try making things out of clay.”

Okaaaaaaayyyyyy…

Of all the things we’ve tried, sculpting was definitely not one of them. My sculpting skills go no further than Play-doh.

The next time I got paid, we bought clay. It was the wrong type of clay, and I ended up melting all her little sculptures the second I put them in the oven. #momfail

Needless to say, we did a little research before our next shopping trip.

The more she worked with clay, the more she loved it.

I was kinda shocked, not only that she found something she enjoyed so thoroughly, but also that she was really good at this clay making thing.

I know it’s terrible to admit, but I didn’t have high hopes for this hobby.

This kid is constantly blowing my mind with her creations, her “Tiny Little Things”. And, I know there’s no frame of reference in these photos (my bad), but each of these sculptures is no larger than an inch or two in any direction.

Her art teacher liked her creations so much that she put a collection of them in the art show.

My girl was also asked to teach an art class on Polymer Clay during the last week of school. She put together a plan, made samples, brought in her own clay, and taught a class on how to sculpt with clay.

That not only takes passion, but it also takes guts.

It’s one thing to love your hobby, but teaching your newly acquired skills to a room full of your peers takes courage.

Weary mom, I want to talk to you for a second.

If you are worn out and broke from hauling your kid from class to class, event to event, store to store, trying to support your child as he explores, creates, and tries new things, don’t give up. Keep encouraging your child. Give him options and expose him to the arts, to music, to sports.

We are blessed with this beautiful gift of life, and there is so much to do and enjoy. If it’s possible, help your child find his hobby early in life. It will be so satisfying to see him excel, as he gains confidence and pride in a job well done.

If you haven’t found your niche yet, don’t give up. Be open to opportunity, and never ever stop learning and trying new things.

I’m so glad my daughter finally found her hobby.

I’m looking forward to see where she takes these new skills.

And, I don’t mind saying, I’m one proud mom.

I would also be remiss if I didn’t thank my sweet aunt for keeping this kid supplied with clay. These pictures are a mere sampling of all the sculptures she’s made and given away. So, thank you Aunt Pat. You constantly find ways to bless us.

July 22, 2015

Keeping Time with my Jord Wood Watch

I love clocks and watches. Even in this digital age, where the time is shown on my stove top, my television, my cell phone, and my computer, I still like clocks. I feel like they’re a decorative accessory my home and I need.

In our house in New York, I hung a clock in the bathroom. I hoped it would make my daughter move more quickly in the mornings, but that didn’t even come close to working. And yet, the clock stayed. I just like them.

One year, I bought my husband a really nice watch for Christmas. He never wears it, and it secretly drives me crazy. I should have bought myself a watch and bought him something else, but too often I gift others with the things I love and not necessarily the things they will enjoy.

So when a representative from Jord Wood Watches, a locally owned, St. Louis based company, contacted me and wanted to send me a new wood watch, of course I said yes!

I’ve never heard of or seen a wooden watch, so I was especially curious.

Jord Wood Watches exceeded my expectations a hundred times over. I’m a sucker for packaging, and these watches come in a wooden box. I love this watch for myself, but I also think it would make a wonderful gift for everything from birthdays to graduations. I would have bought one for my husband for Father’s Day, but I’d just be adding watches to his collection.

I am wearing the Sully watch in Cherry & Maple.

I love that this watch is an incredibly unique piece of high quality craftsmanship, but I also love that it’s light. At first, I was afraid it would be super heavy, because of the wood, but it’s just as light and comfortable as any other watch I’ve worn.

The lovely people from Jord will also custom size your watch before it ships. I definitely recommend doing this, because I had a difficult time finding a jeweler who was willing to work on a wood watch. I think they all assumed it was fragile, but that hasn’t been my experience. I’m fairly hard on jewelry, and this watch is solid.

Here’s my personal tip:

When you measure your wrist, add some wiggle room to your measurement. You can find full measuring instructions on the Jord website.

Now I just wish I had tips for staying cool in the heat, because this girl is melting under the Virginia sun. Even my summer clothes, which are few, are too hot for these temperatures. I just came out of the coldest winter in Central New York’s recorded history, and the heat index the other day was 106 degrees. I’m certain I will adjust; I’m just not certain it will be this summer.

For now, I’m hiding in the shade and wearing a hat in the sun. My husband has taken to calling me Anne, because he somehow associates all women’s hats with Anne of Green Gables. Whatever. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

Shirt: Thred-Up – A huge online thrift store (read more).

Shorts: Dress Barn

Shoes: Crocs

Hat: Local

Watch: Compliments of Jord Wood Watches

Watches Made From Wood

Now, go check out some amazing wood watches. I think you may fall love like I did.
* I did not receive payment for this post; however, my watch was compliments of Jord Wood Watches.

July 21, 2015

Dump Cake Recipe

This may be the worst sounding cake of all time. My mom made it when I was a kid, and I always wondered why nobody ever came up with a better name for it. I mean, talk about creative cooking laziness!!!

I hadn’t made a dump cake in forever, but over the past few weeks, I’ve made two. One day, shortly after we had moved, I needed a dessert in a hurry. I looked in my cupboard, but couldn’t seem to gather all the ingredients necessary to make any of my usual treats. That’s when I saw a can of mixed fruit cocktail and remembered my mom’s dump cakes.

Now, I’m on a dumping roll.

This is seriously my kind of cooking.

Dump Cake Recipe

2 – 28 ounce cans of fruit cocktail (substitute with canned fruit of choice)

1 white (or yellow) cake mix

1 stick butter

9×13 pan

Here’s the hard part people…open the cans of fruit cocktail. Dump them into a greased 9×13 pan, and sprinkle the caked mix evenly on top of the fruit. Don’t prepare the cake batter. Take the dry cake mix and sprinkle it on top of the fruit. There are no eggs, oil, or water needed for this cake. The juice from the fruit combines with the cake mix and makes a unique batter. Cut butter into squares and spread the pats of butter evenly over the top of the dry cake mix. Bake at 350 degrees for about one hour.

Cool, and enjoy!

You can get wild and top it will whipped cream or cool whip. It’s good both ways or plain.

My favorite way to eat dump cake is warm, but cold isn’t half bad either. This simple cake always seems to be a hit, so I think I’ll be making it regularly!

Thanks for the recipe mom.

Dump Cake Recipe

Author: The Domestic Fringe

Recipe type: Dessert

Cuisine: American

Prep time: 5 mins

Cook time: 60 mins

Total time: 1 hour 5 mins

Serves: 10-12 servings

Easiest Dessert Ever!

Ingredients

2 - 28 ounce cans Fruit Cocktail
1 White Cake Mix
1 Stick Butter
9x13 Pan

Instructions

Open cans of fruit, and dump into greased 9x13 pan. Sprinkle dry cake mix on top of fruit, evenly. Cut butter into squares and spread evenly over cake. Bake at 350 degrees for about one hour. Enjoy!

p.s. Sorry for the bad photos. I forgot how much work it takes to post a recipe with good pictures. I’m definitely not a food photographer!

July 19, 2015

When God Fails You

Have you ever felt like God failed you? Maybe you prayed really hard for something, had faith, and believed God was going to do a miracle for you, but He didn’t. He could have cured your disease, but He didn’t. He could have given you a new job, but He didn’t He could have provided the money you needed, but He didn’t. He could have spared your child’s life, but He didn’t. He could have kept you from getting into that accident, but He didn’t. Sometimes we’re in trouble, and we think God should bail us out. After all, the Bible is riddled with miracles. We’ve heard testimony of how God has worked in our neighbor’s life, or how He transformed our friend’s circumstances. We believe God should give us our miracle, and fix our problems. Have you ever felt like that? I have. I taught 5th & 6th graders in VBS this week. Our theme was Journey off The Map, and we were taught to follow our guide, listen to our guide, and trust our guide. If you’re out on a journey, you’ll need a guide, a good one, and you’ll to put your faith in that guide, because he knows what he’s doing. God is our guide. Our lessons centered on the book of Daniel in the Bible. We learned how Daniel purposed in his heart to obey God. We also saw how at one point in his life, he was punished for his faith in God, more specifically for worshiping his God instead of King Darius. Daniel was thrown in a den of lions, and yet, God spared his life. It’s one of those miracles in the Bible that we love. There were also three other men who chose to worship their God instead of bowing to a ninety foot tall golden idol. Their names were Shadrack, Meshack, and Abednego. They were thrown into a fiery furnace, a furnace whose heat was turned up seven times hotter than usual. It was so hot, the flames killed the guards who threw these three faithful men into the fire.

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, answered and said to the king, O Nebuchadnezzar, we are not careful to answer thee in this matter. If it be so, our God whome we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of thine hand, O king. But if not, be it known unto thee, O king, that we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image which thou has set up. – Daniel 3:16-18

These verses really hit me this week, because all too often I get an attitude with God, especially when He doesn’t do what I want Him to do, or what I’m positive He should do. I get it in my head that somehow I know better than the God of this universe. These three men stood before the king, who held their lives in his hands, and they said, our God can save us, and we believe He will; however, even if He doesn’t, we’re going to serve Him anyway. God does not owe us our miracle. He may choose to bless me, save me, prosper me, advance me, but even if He doesn’t, I’m going to serve Him anyway. Are we at the place where we can say that, or are we still bargaining with God. “If you heal me, I’ll serve you for the rest of my life.” “If I win the lottery, I’ll give half the money to the church.” “If you bless me, I’ll pass it on.” “If you only just get me out of this terrible situation, I’ll go to church.” We bargain with God all the time, and then we have the nerve to get mad at Him when He doesn’t come through with His end of our selfish deal. God doesn’t owe us a thing. He’s good to us, blesses us beyond anything we can ever deserve, gives us life, and peace, and happiness, because of His goodness. We want things from God. We want to see God do great things. We want the miracles. It’s easy to say that we’ll serve Him if there’s something in it for us. My God is big enough, strong enough, faithful enough to save the day! #truth. But if He doesn’t, I’m going to serve Him anyway. What about you?

Because let’s face it, God knows what He’s doing. Too often we can’t see past our present circumstance, so let’s trust Him, praise Him, and serve Him, whether He comes through with a miracle or not. I know my God can deliver me, but even if not, I will worship Him.

July 15, 2015

Pound the Pastor

If you follow me here on this blog, or on Instagram, you know we’re in Virginia. The ship called Uhaul pulled into port and the Beverly Hillbillies set up camp in town. People keep asking me if I’m settled. It’s a fair question, but a difficult one to answer honestly.

I am. Not. Am. Not. Am. Not.

The truth is, I don’t know if I’m settled or not. I still have packed boxes, so that probably means I should answer no, but I feel like I’m home, so yes, I’m settled.

I’m also lost most of the time, because I can’t navigate my way out of the backyard, and I don’t have one of those nifty savings cards for the local grocery store; however, we’ve already had to buy a plunger, so most definitely yes. We are settled.

…as in settling, like the Pilgrims…

It’s quite appropriate since we’re in Virginia, and there’s a (not even lying) Pilgrim church just down the road from us. Although, I don’t think the real pilgrims had a fancy church sign or central air conditioning. Just saying. Your church name is a little deceiving to us literal thinking folks, and by literal, I mean immature and dorky. I’m totally expecting the Mayflower to come pulling into your parking lot Sunday morning.

I certainly feel like we’ve been through the initiation into Virginia. We’ve already had a funeral, our toilet overflowed, and someone hit our truck while I was loading groceries into it.

Welcome to town!

We’ve also been blessed beyond measure by the sweet people in church. They called our first service a Pounding – you know, they pounded the pastor. Sounds like tons of fun, right?

It was one of the nicest welcomes I’ve experienced. Everyone brought a pound of something – sugar, flour, butter, etc., and gave it to us. They started filling our pantry in order to help offset some of our expenses, and it’s been a huge help to our grocery budget.

Isn’t that awesome?

We were also given three dozen double yoked fresh eggs. I think that’s more than a pound, but I was never good at math anyway. Southern hospitality isn’t just made up; it’s real, and we are so thankful for it. We’ve very much been made to feel at home.

This week is VBS (Vacation Bible School), and the theme is Journey Off The Map. I’m teaching 5th & 6th graders, but I have a feeling these will be lessons I’m still learning myself. To me, we’ve just journeyed off our map, and I’m excited to see where this new road leads.

In the meantime, I’m working on being fully settled.

What’s happening in your world? Feel free to leave updates in the comments. I’d love to read them!

If you want to follow along and check out our new house, please follow me on Instagram. 🙂

July 14, 2015

Coffee Makes The World Go Round

Friends from New York came for a visit yesterday. It was great to see them, and my daughter got to spend time with her best friend. We showed them the house, had lunch, and went to the beach. There’s something magical about the water. It erases all my stress in an instant.

Does the beach do that for you too?

We drove over to the beach closest to our house, and because it’s a little place on the bay, we were the only people there. The kids waded in the water while we walked, picked shells, and solved life’s problems.

Not really, but when I’m at the beach, solving problems seems easier. In fact, problems don’t even seem so big.

As we approached a jetty of rocks, we heard a small, sweet voice say, “Hello. We’re over here crabbing.”

My friend and I looked at each other and looked around. It was as if there was a ghost crabber speaking to us. Then we saw a small hand lift in the air and wave. On the other side of the rocks was a woman and her black Lab, Chester. This dog was sitting in the water, his head tilted down, and his eyes scanning for any sign of movement. Chester was the crabber. The woman was just sitting in the sand enjoying her dog, who would sit in the water and wait for a crab for hours. I’ve never seen a crabbing dog before, but it was pretty cool. If I had a dog, I would want one who crabs.

Chester’s owner turned out to be a local artist. She filled me in on the all the good places to visit, the places tourist guides don’t tell you about, and then she warned me not to tell anyone else about them. I can’t really blame her. Ninety percent of the cars I see on the roads are vacationers. There’s an onslaught of Yankee tourists in these parts. I think the locals must get a bit overwhelmed, or overrun, depending on how you look at things.

She told me she divulged her secret spots to me because she liked my glasses and my green Walmart t-shirt. She said I was like a breath of fresh air.

If you had been in my house at eight o’clock yesterday morning, you would have choked on your coffee after hearing me likened to a breath of fresh air. I was like a tropical storm moving from room to room, a black cloud of grumpiness hanging low.

I bickered with my husband and fussed at my kids. I planted myself in a far corner of the couch, crossed my arms over my chest, and glared…at anyone who dare look my way. I was tired, and I had a bad attitude.

You see, I have problems waking up in the morning. I am in no way a morning person. Several of you are already shaking your heads at me, thinking of those wonderful quiet moments before the sun rises, but I have real problems shaking off the early funk. Plenty of coffee is needed, except I’m not drinking much coffee down here in Virginia, because it’s hot. I’m not even a bit accustomed to the heat and humidity, so I sip a little hot coffee and pour the rest down the drain.

Sitting in my dismal corner of the couch, I realized my problem was mostly a lack of caffeine. That’s when I pulled a can of Pepsi Max out of the pantry and poured the soda into a glass full of ice.

Don’t judge, or go ahead and judge…whatever. This was a desperate moment in my life, and I had to choose between a ferocious funk or a can of caffeinated sugar-water. I chose the Max.

Half a can later, the funk lifted and my whole attitude changed. I think that indicates a caffeine addiction on my part, but I don’t have time for a weekly support group right now.

I’m making the switch to iced-coffee, as of this morning. I don’t think I’ll ever be a morning person, but the rooster next door is sure trying to change my mind.

I’m glad our friends were able to visit, and I sure hope I see the artist and her crabbing dog again. They were truly a breath of fresh air. I bet she and Chester are even morning people.

How about you? Do you like mornings??

(Can anyone really like mornings?!?)

June 18, 2015

The Stress of Packing & Moving

I was in total freak-out mode for an entire week.

Now I’m better. Kinda.

We officially move on the 29th of June, but my bags are packed, and the truck is loaded and on its way to Virginia. For a week and a half, it will just be us four, our mattresses, and several paint brushes.

All of my clean clothes are packed. Whatever is left is in the hamper. This morning, when I was getting ready for work, I realized I was left with several odd items of clothing – a dress without leggings, a shirt without pants, an exotic leafy print skirt with no shoes or shirt. I definitely have a bag-lady vibe going on.

I’ve already warned my coworkers.

If you thought first impressions were difficult, try last impressions. No one ever talks about those.

(And, just because I know someone is thinking I wore dirty clothes to work…I did NOT. I can manage a small quick load before work. I’m pretty much a master of last-minute.)

Tuesday morning my husband woke up, turned to look at me, and said, “I am SO glad you’re going to work today.”

He’s afraid of me right now.

I’m afraid of me right now.

The thing is, I don’t really need to be stressed. We are moving into a gorgeous old home overflowing with character. We have a lovely church family waiting for us, and I’m excited to start this new chapter of my life. So, why I am stressed?

I think I’m a little scared. It’s a lot of change all at once, and I’ve gotten comfortable. I know the people in this town, even the cray-cray people. I don’t know the people in Virginia yet; their culture is still a mystery to me. The thought of starting over is a bit ominous.

These are the times I need to rest in the fact that God has things under control. He’s got a plan and a purpose, sees the beginning from the end, and knows what the future holds.

He’s probably agreeing with my husband. I need to chill-out and eat some chocolate.

So, I thought I’d share some things I’ve learned about moving.

Moving Tips

Don’t do it all at once. Packing your entire house in a weekend may seem like a good idea, until you begin. By the time the tenth box is packed, you’ll be tapping out and crying uncle. Give yourself time. If you’re selling your house, don’t wait until the weekend before your closing to begin packing. Begin packing before you even call a realtor.

Start with storage. Pack the things you don’t use everyday first. It may seem simpler to begin with the things you use constantly, like the stuff in the kitchen or in your living room, but start with what is in the back of your closet, or better yet, in the attic. Your daily life won’t be interrupted, and you won’t be unpacking freshly packed boxes to get things you need.

Label your boxes. Labels don’t have to be fancy, but certainly make sure you mark your boxes. “Kid’s Room – Summer Clothes” is a sufficient label. Once you get to your new house, you’ll undoubtedly need something and forget which box it’s in. Labeling will save you from a future headache.

Don’t pack garbage. I know, DUH! But, you’d be surprised by how hard it is to say goodbye to your child’s broken baby toy, or that old worn-out pair of shoes you’ve had for twenty years. Let your junk rest in peace, in the landfill. Take out the trash.

Buy lots of tape. Also, collect more boxes and bubble wrap than you ever think you will need. You’ll use it. It always takes more moving supplies than we estimate. If you have too much tape by the end of your move, you can return it. Returns at your convenience are a lot easier than running out when your house is upside down.

Delegate. Don’t try to do it all yourself, unless you must. If your children are old enough, make them pack their own rooms. If they don’t do a perfect job by your standards, lower your standards. The goal is having a packed house. Do what you must to reach that goal.

Use out of season clothes to wrap fragile items. That winter coat may be the perfect cushion for your dining room lamp. Make your items do double duty. Thick clothes, extra towels, and guest bedding make perfect cushions, as do couch pillows and throw blankets.

Prepare a box, bag, or tote with items you’ll need right away – sheets, soap, pillows, etc. If you prepare one box of essentials, you won’t have to rummage through ten boxes in order to find one fitted sheet.

Use aluminum foil to wrap your jewelery, especially your necklaces. Pull out a sheet of foil, and lay one necklace on the foil, fold and repeat. Your jewelery won’t be in a tangled heap when you arrive at your destination.

Use plastic wrap to cover filled utensil trays or desk drawer organizers.

Pack in your baskets, plastic bins, totes, etc. Utilize what you have.

Don’t forget to breathe. Not everything will go smoothly. There will be hiccups along the way. You will survive (sing it with me – I Will Survive!).

I can’t wait to make the final move and begin unpacking. Last night I ran to Walmart for welcome mats. I don’t know if they are an actual necessity, but having them made me feel a little more settled. I’m weird that way.

I also downloaded a shark tracker app, because if I’m going to live by the ocean, I want to know where the sharks are before they nibble on my leg.

Ya know?

May 31, 2015

Moving House, Home, & Pizza

Captain Hook delivered pizza Friday night, the weird upside down pie with the sauce slathered on top of the cheese. As a self-proclaimed pizza snob, I’m just getting my taste-buds accustomed to this backwards version of my favorite food. Central New York has a unique cuisine, and a wacky way of pronouncing everyday words like elementary. They say “El-E-men-TARY”.

(These are the moments I feel the failure of blogging. You really need a soundbite to fully understand the pronunciation of words like elementary, supplementary, complimentary, etc.)

This small town is the only place my daughter fully remembers living. Once in a while, she’ll get a fractured glimpse of our time in Maine, but this place, she knows.

Now we are moving to Virginia at the end of the June.

On all those past car rides from Maine to Florida, with screaming babies strapped in their car seats and “Old McDonald Had A Farm” playing on loop until Old McDonald started making up animals, we talked about Virginia. It always seemed like a cool middle of east coast state. Once, we said we’d like to move to Virginia – One Day.

Thirty days from now will be “One Day”.

Right now, I’m packing our dishes, our books, and our memories. I’m counting the cost of bubble-wrap and collecting free boxes. I’m preparing storytime lessons for a summer reading program I won’t be running, while at the same time planning a future in a state eight hours away.

It’s bittersweet, with the scale tipping on the sweet side.

I’m happy and sad and scared and stressed all at the same time.

My poor kids.

I’m basically a crazy woman cooking dinner out of the one pot that’s not packed.

My husband is the new pastor of a small red brick church in the south. I’m the new pastor’s wife, and the little red brick church is full of the kindest people I’ve been around in a very long time.

I am happy, but today, all I can think about is Captain Hook, or more accurately, the boy who played Captain Hook in this year’s school play, and the fact that I won’t know who the pizza delivery boy is in Virginia.

One day soon, I’ll have a new home, and more friends, and a wonderful life in a place where people drink sweet tea and eat biscuits and gravy. I’ll like that life, in fact, I’m pretty sure I’ll love it.

And someday, I know I’ll recognize the pizza delivery boy when he knocks on my door. I’ll give him an extra big tip, because I’ll know he’s starting college soon, and I’ll enjoy my geographically challenged pizza.

I know this like I know my address (the old one, because I can’t even pretend to know the new one yet).

I also know that Peter Pan is delivering Chinese food tonight, because I can’t cook in a kitchen full of boxes!

Now can I?

I hope you’ll read along as we journey south. I’ll pass the sweet tea and a biscuit, and keep you posted.

February 25, 2015

Printable Paper-Craft Sources

I fell in love with paper crafts the moment I put together the first house for my Christmas Advent calendar. All the cutting and pasting is a bit of work, but the finished products are adorable.

Just this past week, I made seventeen of these little cupcakes. I’m going to fill them with mini-marshmallows and Teddy Graham crackers and give them to the kids in my preschool story-time class at the library. I think they’ll love them as much as I do, and after their snack is through, they can bring the little paper cupcakes home with them.

This cupcake is from Samantha Eynon and you can print your own on her site. While you’re there, be sure to check out her other cute printables!

Source: Mr. Printables

Now, if these don’t want to make you grab a pair of scissors and a glue stick, nothing will! These are all available to download for FREE from Mr. Printables. I adore this blog and really want to make every single thing on it. It’s where I got my Advent village.

Mr. Printables even has a cute little shop where you can buy things ready made.

Source: Claudine Hellmuth’s Etsy Shop

You guys, those tapes kill me!

The above images are all products from Claudine Hellmuth’s Etsy shop. I happened upon her Etsy shop and really want to download everything. How cute would it be to give a cupcake in one of those cute little boxes?

And, the paper village may earn a spot on my bookshelves for spring. I’m in total love.

Source: Cubeecrafts

If you have tweens, they are going to love Cubeecrafts. There are around 200 iconic pop-culture figurines just waiting to be downloaded and printed.

I can’t wait to make another paper craft!

How about you? Have you tried these yet??

February 21, 2015

Think On These Things

I feel like I broke through the ice and am drowning in the frigid waters of upstate New York.

That’s slightly dramatized, but all I’ve seen for the past few months are fifty shades of white, and I am officially over winter!

My car doors hardly open because they are iced shut. My laundry room is flooding, despite my son removing every flake of snow from the back of our house. My windshield cracked in a long line. We are breaking records for the number of days temperatures have plummeted below zero, and if all that’s not enough, Niagara Falls froze over.

Winter ain’t playing around this year.

I’m crying uncle and wishing Al Gore were right about Global Warming.

Maybe it’s my hormones, or maybe it’s the fact that I’m in a constant state of chilliness, but spring seems a long way off.

I woke up this morning and wanted to crawl back into bed until June 1, 2015, at exactly 8 am.

Instead, I made a pot of coffee and popped a few Vitamin D’s.

It’s easy to lose hope, isn’t it?

…hope that better days will come.

…hope that the sun will shine again.

….hope that the pain will end.

….hope that the fighting will cease.

…hope that love will win.

…hope that peace exists.

…hope that a job will surface.

…hope that your child will come home.

…hope that addictions can be broken.

…hope for hope’s sake alone.

When we live in our circumstances, it’s easy to see the glass half empty. Heck, it’s easy to see the glass shattered into a thousand shards.

The day is nearly done and I’m still sitting in this morning’s fluffy pink robe. I have zero desire to go out in the freshly fallen snow; however, I have even less desire to wallow in my funk one moment longer.

I’m choosing hope today, and I’m setting my mind on the right things. I’m pretty sure my heart will follow.

How are you doing friends?

Are you hoping for something today?

February 14, 2015

This is 40.

I turned 40 this past Thursday. I wanted to write an emotional, insightful, mind-blowing post on my birthday, but I was too tired.

After work, I took my kids out to celebrate. My husband couldn’t make it, because of his crazy work schedule at the hospital, but the kids and I had fun. We even ordered dessert, personal cheesecakes piled high with fresh berries and a dollop of creme fraiche (Google tells me that’s how you spell it, but you know, crem-fresh.) My son even ate the spring of mint placed ever so perfectly between two berries. He’s been a voracious eater lately, not even the garnish is safe around him.

When my daughter finished her meal, she asked for a pen and wrote the owner of the restaurant, her best friend’s father, a note on a napkin.

I’ll be sad when my kids have outgrown their child-likeness.

My birthday began with snow. It always does. My parents love to tell the story of the day a blizzard of epic proportions hit the entire New York City area. Doctors were stuck in the hospital. The world stood still while snow fell. I was born.

I guess snow is a hazard of having a birthday in February.

I went to work and my boss brought me a large coffee to make sure I began middle-age well caffeinated. She also brought pastries, because she’s awesome.

For the last six months, my coworker has been telling everyone who will listen that I am 40. In a way, I’m indebted to her. She paved the way and desensitized me to the number. I am now ok with 40.

40 is complex, even more than 30. It means so many things to me. Here are a few.

40 is sobering.

This is real-life, without the excuse of youth.

I can’t blame screw-ups on immaturity or other people. The rubber just the proverbial road. I am accountable for me, for the choices I make, for how I live out the rest of my life.

I will live without excuse.

40 is better than 30 and light-years away from 20.

Your 20’s are hard years. You think you know what you want, but so often you don’t. You make lots of mistakes. Then, you find excuses for those mistakes, because you truly believe you have life figured out.

The 20’s are for idealism. You feel invincible. You can do anything you can imagine. You need little sleep, lots of love, and room to grow.

The 30’s feel like work. You get caught up in building – a life, a family, a career, a white picket-fence to contain your dog, two kids, and house with the high mortgage.

The 30’s are for settling down and establishing yourself.

You doubt in your 30’s. You question if what you’re making out of life is enough.

Your 40’s, well, it’s hard for me to say…I’ll tell you in ten years. I do know it’s going to be better than 30. I can tell that already.

40 is confidence.

Let’s face it, at 40, I know what I can and cannot do. I know my weakness and strengths. I’ve tasted a little bit of success, and I’ve also failed miserably, more than once.

I don’t have a false sense of self. I know myself a little better, and I realize that I’m a package deal. I work hard, but I make mistakes. I love much, but that love is imperfect and too often selfish. I have abilities, and yes, even a talent or two, but I have so much left to learn and to master.

I think confidence comes when you can see and accept yourself for who you are, who God created you to be. Sure, if you could change some things you would, but you’ve learned to embrace the good and the not-so-good of you.

40 is worrying less about what people think.

Not everyone is going to agree with my choices, my actions, or my decisions. I’m good with that. I value advice, but I can’t live my life to make everyone happy.

That’s hard to believe, because I am a people-pleaser at heart.

I’ve already disappointed some and hurt others. This life is messy, but we all have to choose our path, walk down our own road, and sometimes even make mistakes. I try to walk in truth, but I stumble and fall.

At 40, I know I’m imperfect, and you know it too. We do our best, and that’s not a cop-out.

We can still be friends, even if when we see life differently.

40 is full of opportunity.

All that work from your 30’s is starting to pay off. You get to see some fruit from your labor.

For me, I’m getting to see my kids grow-up and become really likeable people. They are fun to be around. I don’t regret a moment I invested in their early years.

I’m getting opportunities to grow as a blogger. Somehow, I’ve carved out this teeny-tiny space for myself and my thoughts in cyberland, and you guys have become my friends. I never could have imagined the opportunities that would come when I named this space The Domestic Fringe.

My husband and I have opportunities in ministry. These opportunities look really different from what we planned. They are mostly small, person-to-person. They happen in the secret moments of everyday. They are not at all flashy, nor are they self-promoting. They come when we are willing to walk in the rain and get wet.

40 is so much more than you fear it will be.

I think, as a society, we view aging in very negative ways. It’s not all bad.

Wherever we are in life, at whatever age we call ourselves, we are blessed with this gift of life.

We can’t discount yesterday or take tomorrow for granted. We must embrace today.

We can’t live in fear of what may come.

That’s another post though, for another day. I must be getting wordier as I get older, because this post is eight hundred too many words.

I am 40.

I’ll let people think I’m 29 if they guess wrong, as long as my coworker doesn’t get to them with the truth, but I’m not ashamed of 40. I do believe my 40’s will be good years. I plan on conquering 40.

*Note: I repeatedly used “40” instead of “forty”. I just think “40” looks cooler. 😉

And, because I have a picture of my mom on her 40’th birthday, I decided to take a selfie on my 40th. It’s not a perfect picture, but I’m good with that. It’s me.

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