Nailed It!

Until two years ago women everywhere who aspired to be Suzy Homemaker or the Craft Queen could feel reasonably good about themselves. Martha Stewart was the only real public source of perfection to compare ourselves to and subsequently feel like a failure. But it was easy enough to convince ourselves that Martha is freak of nature, with unlimited funds, capable of doing things unimaginable to us mere mortals. 

Along came Pinterest.... 

At first glance it was the most amazing social network service ever. Millions of women across the world began pinning wildly as creativity and inspiration abounded at previously unheard of levels. 

We pinned and pinned - our inspiration and confidence building with each passing day that we found ourselves awake until the wee hours gathering ideas. At times we were even giddy with excitement at the possibility that perhaps, just perhaps, Martha wasn't so special after all. 

And then we started attempting... 

This week was my 4-year-old grandson's year end party for his preschool class. Parents, Grandparents and siblings were invited to join the activities and participate in a potluck style lunch. Xander's mom signed up to bring a veggie tray. But I, Granny, was far more adventurous. I have a Pinterest account! 

Ice Cream Cone Cupcakes would be sure to thrill the kids and impress the adults. I'd seen pictures on Pinterest, so I knew how impressive they would be.  

The four-year-old wasn't so impressed when Granny substituted coconut oil because she didn't have the vegetable oil called for in the Betty Crocker cake mix recipe. 

And after the fact, all I can say is, "Thank God I took pictures along the way so I can blame the four-year-old for the less than stellar outcome."

We used mini cones for the mini mouths we would be feeding.

Nailed it! Don't ya think?

We may have overfilled them with too runny batter. 

 A little Betty Crocker whipped frosting and sprinkles and candy and voila! Specimens of perfection.

 I went the theory that candies and sprinkles will make anything edible to a preschooler.

And the theory was proved correct when there were no leftovers to bring home after the party.

Okay, I may have had to force feed the 14-month-old to get rid of the last one. 

I'm starting to think that Pinterest is actually a curse, worse than Martha, sent to deflate confidence and squash creative boldness for fear of failure.

However, on the flip side, comedy and laughter are good for the soul. And without Pinterest we would never have gotten access to hundreds of NAILED IT! sites. And if you have never failed a Pinterest attempt you really don't get the same tears-down-the-face-stomach-sore-face-hurting kind of laughter and satisfaction from failure.

I Am Fearless!

Well, actually I am NOT fearless. I am filled with fear. Which is why I was forced to commit this ultimate act of bravery. 

As I blogged earlier in the week, the tent caterpillars have arrived in our neighbourhood and I am taking whatever steps I can to prevent them from eating my weeping birch tree and keep them from covering my house and deck.

I took this photo the other evening as I was walking home from a visit with my kidlets who live 6 doors down from us. Their house and yard are crawling with the little vermin: 

Daily I have been giving my two infested trees a soapy shower with a hose sprayer attachment filled with Dawn dish washing soap. Here is the results of the first soapy shower when the caterpillars will small and still tenting at night: It's really quite amazing how quickly they die when they come in contact with the soap. There is no wriggling and squirming to possibly evoke slight pangs of guilt for torturing living creatures. There is no thrashing about to possibly have them fall from the tree and thereby landing on me. It's just like instant electrocution. Creepy yet awesome. 

I love my weeping birch tree. It's branches are long and flowing and drag on the ground. It's leaves are hardy and remain green and clinging to the branches long after all the other trees turn yellow and drop their foliage in the fall. It often remains green until it gets covered in snow. And if you crawl underneath it is the coolest natural fort you can imagine. 

Every day I pray for my birch tree's protection from the caterpillars. Oh, I know if they attack and strip its leaves, it will rebound and regrow them. I think it's an emotional thing with my tree.

I am also hoping if I can ward them off from full attack on my yard then perhaps my house and deck will emerge unscathed. So far we are still able to sip a glass of wine in the evening sunshine without fear anything crawling on us.

So while I am depending on God to help me in my fight, I'm doing what I can. My husband, while supportive of my efforts, suggests that it's probably easier to just let nature take its course. And I may eventually have to relent and admit defeat, but I refuse to go down without a fight!

My fight included giving the tree a haircut so the branches don't touch the ground. This takes away the million little built-in ladders should the creepers come crawling by.

The word "fight" is defined as to harm or gain power over or defend against an adversary. And it takes bravery and courage. And having bravery and courage doesn't mean you have no fear. It means you conquer your fears! And you do what you gotta do to harm, gain power and defend. 

And as such, with a gazillion caterpillars in my neighbourhood, I reached out with my bare hands and parted the birch branches and crawled underneath! Bravery at its finest! 

I wielded my weapons of tinfoil and vaseline.

 And as an extra measure of defense, I sprinkled a ring of cinnamon around the perimeter of the tree. It felt like some sort of spiritual ritual of exorcism and I'm sure the neighbours all thought I was crazy. Or perhaps they were jealous of my bravery.

























My final line of defense and protection to ensure vermin-free deck sitting was another ring of cinnamon around the house, should the critters make it past the birch tree.

I am counting on my tactics to be successful. However should they fail, I'm fully prepared to move out to the lake for 3 weeks and live among the blood sucking mosquitoes.

We should be safe from vampires for a while

I thought about blogging the other day about how absolutely fabulous my yard smells. I didn't get around to it, but my next door neighbour's giant lilac bushes are in full bloom and it's like intoxication for the nasal senses when  I step outside. 

Or I should say, it WAS like nasal intoxication. 

We took proactive steps to combat the tent caterpillars that have appeared in the cottonwood tree in the backyard and cherry tree in the front. They did not crawl there from other sources, they were hatched in those trees and started out a little tiny wigglers. 

They are fast stripping my trees and growing larger by the hour. And once the leaves are gone from the said trees, I know the little critters are going to crawl down in search of a fresh source of leaves. And in doing so, will cover my house and deck with creepiness that makes my skin crawl just thinking about it. 

Even though I have lived in Prince George for 37 years, and this area has had some wicked caterpillar cycles in the last couple of decades, I personally have never really experienced them on my own home. In the eight years we've been in town this is the first they have made it into my neighbourhood. And all those years out at the farm, people may have felt sorry for me living on five acres of sand in the muddy spring, but the caterpillars hated crossing the sand and it created a great natural barrier around our house and yard. (Although I had convinced myself and others that we were actually God's favourite and we lived in a special ring of protection) 

It appears our status as God's favourite has expired and we have joined the ranks of other mere mortals.

It is time for action!

Using Google and other's experience, the best advice I could glean was Dawn with garlic and cinnamon. The Dawn kills them and I believe the garlic and cinnamon act as deterrents to keep them from invasion.  Even though there are no critters on it, as a preventative measure, we sprayed the weeping birch (Which I call my tree from God because it stays green long after all other trees have turned colour and lost their leaves in the fall.)

I'm not sure what makes Dawn different from other dish soap, but it certainly has a reputation. Kinda makes you wonder how healthy it is to be cleaning the things you eat off of with it. And a visionary person would have bought shares in the company before Pinterest went rampant. Ah well, I digress. 

I'm not sure what the neighbours thought when they saw my hubby up on the roof and on very tall ladders spraying the trees at 9pm. And I have no idea what they will think this morning when they step outside this morning with the heavy smell of garlic and cinnamon hanging over the neighbourhood. I'm sure they'll blame the pulpmill. 

It's camping, not a magazine feature article.

I will never be a seamstress or a quilter.

I'm more of an adequate short-cut taker, who knows how to wield a pair of scissors. 

Oh, I can sew. If I want to. And sometimes I do. But I don't sew because I want to sew, I sew because I want the finished product. And by finished, I don't really mean "finished". 

My motto has always been "Good enough." 

Today I made curtains for the trailer in preparation for camping season which will start on the weekend. 

Our well-used trailer came to us with frayed blackout fabric pinned to the fabric valance with large diaper pins. It worked well for two summers. But this year we have booked a site at the lake for the entire summer. And the site comes with a 15x20ish cabin. 

I'm quite excited about this summer venture and am already planning the decor of the cabin.  We take possession on Friday when I will measure things up and then dig through the absolute mountains of fabric I inherited from Mom to make new curtains for the three windows in the cabin.

It was my full intention to go to Fabricland tonight to purchase new blackout fabric. I was just headed out the door when I thought that I should Google the store for it's hours - I'd hate to drive all the way up the Hart and find out it wasn't open in the evening. Good call. It closes at 5:30. 

Since I was already focussed on making curtains this evening, I decided I could just work with the frayed blackout fabric and add a layer of Mom's fabric to freshen it up. 

I successfully finished my project. And by "finished" I don't mean I have beautiful hemmed works of art. I mean I used pinking shears to cut them out so I didn't have to hem the sides and I made sure the bottom edge lined up along the finished selvage of the fabric. I didn't get all fancy-like and make rod pockets or anything, I opted to thumbtack them to the underside of the built-in valance in the trailer. 

We are camping after-all, not looking to be featured in a Better Homes and Garden magazine. 

And voila! 

One side of  one of my Mom's fabric closets.
And I'm proud to say I used up about 4 meters of it! 

The trouble with blogging...

The trouble with blogging is that most every topic that I could turn into a post, I've already blabbed about on Facebook. 

It's my right not to exercise my right.

I neither exercised my right nor fulfilled my obligations as a citizen yesterday.

It was voting day in British Columbia. I'm not sure why, but I rarely vote in the provincial elections. I always do in the federal election, and usually do at the municipal level.

To be honest, I had to Google what party Christy Clark is from when I heard she won this morning. Kinda sad isn't it.

While my history would indicate that I probably wasn't going to vote anyway, I am blaming my lack of action on my frustration with the number of political phone calls we received in the past month. From all parties.

This invasion of privacy and what bordered on harassment occurred pretty much daily and sometimes as many as three times a day. And it's not like it was even a real person calling. The computer generated call playing a recorded voice didn't respond to swearing, hanging up or politely asking them to remove my number from their calling list.

The final call I received was at 5:50 yesterday morning. Yes that is 5:50 AM. On election day - for some reason I thought that advertising on the day-of was illegal. It's possible they changed the rules, I'm not really up on these things.

One of my final thoughts last night was "Thank God it's over. They will quit phoning."

Guess how I was awakened this morning? To a ringing phone. I didn't make it to the phone in time to answer. But guess what the call display showed - "Province of BC." Seriously. Do they really think this is going to make us like them??

Enough already people! Get on with your squabbling in Victoria and leave us citizens alone to complain about the job you are doing.

My Brain Has Retired.

"One day blurs into the next. I never know what day of the week it is."

I've heard the phrase many times over the years from people who are retired. Frankly, I thought it was just an overused joke, and I didn't find it that funny.

Guess what? It's not funny. It was never meant to be a joke. I am 10 days into retirement and I can attest.

I rolled outta bed at 9:15 this morning. I knew today was Pink Panter Preparation Day. I needed to haul out the buckets of decorations, prizes and costumes and get everything gathered for this weekend's Relay For Life. But I was feeling pretty chill.

I made a coffee and plunked myself down in front of my email and Facebook.

My daughter-in-law greeted me with "Good morning?"

"Weird, for her to question that," I thought to myself. "It's another sunny day of retirement. Why would she question it?"

Followed quickly by, "OH CRAP!"

I had completely forgotten to take Xander to school this morning. I apologized and promised to pick him up.

After picking him up, he and I said goodbye to Mrs Phillips and I said to Xander, but with the intention of aiming it at Mrs Phillips, "Next school day Granny will be the helper. Won't that be fun?"

Mrs Phillips looked a bit confused and pulled out the calendar that sits on the table in the foyer.

I pointed to May 14 where my name was clearly written.

She responded, "Oh yes, that's not til next week, Tuesday."

"Yeah," I said. Wondering why she was confused.

"We still have Thursday," she added.

It took me another embarrassing moment to realize that today is only Tuesday. We still have Thursday this week for school. And NEXT WEEK Tuesday I am scheduled to be the classroom helper. Let's hope I can pull myself together and get there.


And on a completely different note, isn't little Maeve Liliana the cutest thing ever???