No, I am not dead.

Contrary to popular belief, or at least the recesses of one’s wildest imagination, I have neither succumbed to the avian flu nor lost my computer in a freak hail storm. I am not deceased, I am not busy, I am not giving up on blogging. I’m just…not blogging. Yeah, okay, like there’s a difference. Truthfully, I’ve just had other things going on, and blogging has just not been one of them. I am not going to pretend that this marks the start of a refreshed and regular blogging routine, because it’s probably not. I do still enjoy blogging, but it just hasn’t been a priority, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

Speaking of my priorities these days, though, let’s talk about this face. Specifically, I hear that this face is on page 164 of some magazine. I’ve yet to lay eyes on said page myself, but allegedly it’s true.

Other than that face, I’ve been up to a little of this, a little of that. A little of starting a photography business, a little of buying a new house. Do you like how I slipped that new house bit in there, all cool and nonchalant-like? It’s like I’m the suave high school boy and you are my soon-to-be prom date, and I’m leaning on your locker. Except I just compared myself to a high school boy, which I vowed never to do. Okay, I never actually vowed, I just, well, never mind. Does this really need an explanation?

What is the point of this blog post, again?

Oh yeah, to remind you that I haven’t blogged in a while…or, apparently, to ramble on about nothing of significance in a feeble attempt to blog about something of partial significance.

On that note, I leave you with this picture. Because it is my favorite, and there are no rules about blog post focus when you are a fake blogger and abandon your blog for months on end.

Happy Friday, y’all. :)

White Tablecloths & My 15-Pound Centerpiece

When you have to suddenly limit your nursing due to an unavoidable antibiotic, you let certain things slide in the name of my baby needs to eat. For example, if said baby wails in the highchair and refuses to touch anything in front of her, you might end up letting her sit and eat on the dining room table…on your white tablecloth.

You will wonder if you’ve lost your mind.

You will wonder if avocado stains.

You will wonder why you didn’t put down a towel, or remove the tablecloth.

You will wonder how it is possible for errant banoatmeavocado globs to be so endearing.

You will wonder if your white tablecloth will ever be white again.

And then you will realize that when it is white again, you’ll no longer have a baby sitting on your dining room table, cooing, mashing oatmeal into her ears.

And so for right now, you leave the tablecloth as is, knowing it will have plenty of opportunities to be clean…

…but only a fleeting time to be a sweet, perfect mess.

Kenley Gets Chummy with Better Homes & Gardens

So this totally normal thing happened on Tuesday: some people showed up with a bunch of camera equipment and took pictures of my baby girl’s room.

This is me calmly handling this totally normal event:

I think at the time this photo was taken, Stacey and Evan (the camera crew…we’re on a first-name basis) were contemplating how to tell Kristine, the amazing stylist, that she couldn’t take Kenley back to Boston with her. Kristine was contemplating how to inform Kenley that the mysterious foreign substance she was gripping in her chubby baby fingers was hair.

It kills me that these pictures are so noisy. Next time a national magazine makes the mistake of thinking my home should grace its pages and Rick tells me to fix the camera settings before he takes the pictures, I will listen.

Anyway, you can see that one of us got to wear ruffle-butt pants and the other wore lip gloss for like the first time ever.

Kristine: You’ll just want to wear lipstick a bit darker than your normal color.

Me: What is lipstick?

Listening to and watching the crew work their magic was the best part. Pouf too tall for the photo? No problem; just take out some of the stuffing. Closet curtain too wrinkly? No problem; take one panel down. Crib not angled properly? No problem; prop it up with some 2x4s.

Kristine arrived Monday to talk through some things and help pick out our outfits. You can see from the different pictures that Kenley had a wardrobe change after her first nap; they decided that the pink was washing her out too much (what? a baby of mine? pale? no.) so Kristine magically reached into her closet and selected the new outfit. You should know that she did not, as my stylist, recommend the toothbrush be part of my outfit.

The equipment itself was also pretty impressive. Not that I expected them to show up with their camera phone or something, but, you know. Still.

After the shoot was over, Kristine interviewed me for the little blurb that will accompany the photo. I had another What is lipstick moment when she asked what my decorating style was. Um? I don’t know? Wing-it-and-hope-it-works? Sounds about right.

In sum, the day was pretty lame. And by lame, I mean hands-down one of the coolest days ever, after Kenley’s birth and stuff, and I am so thankful to have had this experience. Rick was thrilled that he got to be there, and we are all so excited to see the final print version. My mom plans to stand in the supermarket aisle and direct all traffic to her “famous” granddaughter…who will be autographing copies in drool, should anyone be interested. ;)

Guess what. {Sort of really big news that rhymes with “sweater gnomes and lard pins”.}

Is it just me, or whenever you see someone say “I have big news!” do you automatically assume it means they are pregnant? You know, unless they are male. Or 97. Or male AND 97.

But seriously…I have big news. And I’m not pregnant. (Or male, incidentally.) Guess what it is?

You’ll never guess. So I’ll give you a hint.

It rhymes with sweater gnomes and lard pins.

It rhymes with sweater gnomes and lard pins coming to my house to take pictures of Kenley’s raindrops wall for the “I Did It” page of the July issue.

You’re probably thinking this is an April Fool’s joke. It’s not an April Fool’s joke. Whoopee cushions and fake spiders are more my jam. (Nope, not true.)

Anyway, my first reaction to the email from the BH&G editor: this is some kind of ridiculous joke. I fully expected masked crusaders to jump out of the walls and announce that I’d been punk’d. When no such crusaders appeared, I began cleaning. Furiously. Just in case BH&G planned to show up in a few minutes or something. As it turns out, they’re coming in just a couple of weeks. I’m going to begin doing my hair now to make sure it doesn’t look like a dead animal. Good idea? And Kenley is already practicing her best magazine model faces.

And I’m practicing my best faces, too.

I’ll be sure to share all the silly details, like when they show up and are all like, “Oops, we made a mistake and meant to go to someone else’s house; sorry.” Because seriously. My house has no business being in a magazine. Unless that magazine is actually called Sweater Gnomes and Lard Pins. (Riveting stuff, right there.)

Until then:

Eeeeeeeek!

 

P.S. I realize I excel at the art of blog abandonment. I hope to get back into a blogging routine—again—shortly. I’ve been a little distracted by a separate business venture. That sounds shady….but I assure you it’s not shady. I’ll share more soon!

Adorable Custom Paper Dolls {Stash-Busting Giveaway}

My childhood was spent doing primarily three things:

1. Reading.
2. Playing with dolls.
3. Reading while playing with dolls.

Yes, I was the girl who lovingly maintained every strand of hair, carefully folded each pint-sized outfit. I was the girl who spent her afternoons inventing and reinventing storylines and adventures. I was the girl who had to take away all dolls when her little sister came along because she made their hair look like a rat’s nest, causing me to just about keel over and die on the spot. Barbies, porcelain dolls, American Girl dolls, paper dolls…all near and dear to my heart. Proof:

I grew up to be the girl who owns the Everyday Paper Dolls and Paper Doll Dress-Up Cricut cartridges. The problem is, they’re collecting dust. However, I have enough scrapbook paper and cardstock to feed a small country, if said small country was prone to nourishing itself with paper products. So what’s a girl to do? Ooh I know! Offer to make other people some custom paper dolls.

Side note: Are paper dolls even a thing anymore? Erm, I don’t know? I fully expect like one person to enter this giveaway. Good thing that’s all I need. :)

I recently made this set for the daughter of one of my longtime friends and had so much fun mixing and matching different pieces and creating little accessories. (Yes, this is what I do on Saturday nights. I’m just that cool.) The two dolls are designed to be her and her not-yet-born little-sister. Do you like how I’ve decided what the baby will grow up to look like?

Specifics:

• To enter, use the Rafflecoptor widget below. (ps-the word “widget” is weird. Sounds like wedgie, only widget. Phew, I had to get that off my chest.)
• One person will win two 5” cardstock paper dolls customized (hair style and color, skin tone, hobbies, favorite colors, etc.) to the two people of their choice. For example, you could choose to have dolls made that looks like your daughter and her friend, or your daughter and your other daughter, or your daughter and Joe Biden, etc. I can also make them without tabs if you wanted to frame them instead, like if you wanted them made to look like you and your husband, or you and a friend/sibling/parent/distant relative/complete stranger/creeper etc. (You can view all of the options for hairstyles and outfits here and here.) The dolls will each come with three outfits of your choice.
• You’ll have to give me your address so I can mail the finished products to you. I promise I’m not a weirdo who will show up at your house and lurk outside your door in a Buick station wagon with tinted windows. (This is partly because I don’t think Buick station wagons can have tinted windows. It’s like a violation of some unwritten Cool code.)
• This giveaway is open to US residents only.

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Even if you don’t enter the giveaway…what are your childhood doll memories? Were you the one who lovingly dressed them each day, or did you cut their hair and color all over them with markers? If you cut off your dolls’ hair, we can still be friends, but I have to go use my inhaler first because I hyperventilate just thinking about it.

11 Unrelated and Basically Useless Things I Learned This Week

1. I learned that Ashley is to blame for the winter we’ve been having. Turns out when she decorates her mantel, nature reacts accordingly. She decorated it with lots of snowflakes; we had lots of snow. I propose that she now install one of these on her mantel:

…and also that she avoid decorating with, say, a bunch of squirrels. The last thing this world needs is more squirrels.

2. I learned that this chocolate mug cake is a fabulous way to lose your willpower to eat less like a slovenly pig and more like a girl who needs to fit into her pre-pregnancy pants unless she wants to endure the nightmare that is pants-shopping. It will enchant you with its two-minute start-to-finish siren song, despite all attempts to steer your boat past it, and then continue to lure you in by making you think how great it would be topped off with chocolate peanut butter ice cream.

Please pin from the original source

Before you know it, you will be in a chocolate coma and/or living Homer’s Odyssey and/or both. (We can all probably agree that the epic as a whole would have been significantly improved had chocolate peanut butter ice cream been at the ready. Homer, my man,—may I call you my man?— sometimes you just have to accept the fact that literary greatness only gets you so far.)

3. I learned that bouncing on an exercise ball while blogging is a good way to A) feel better about yourself after you eat a whole bunch of cake and ice cream, B) make your legs feel as though they are comprised of gelatinous sponges that have been run over by a dump truck, and C) feel better about your decision not to instead attempt this with your exercise ball:

source-ish

4. I learned that no matter how perfectly and snugly you put socks on a baby, said baby will devise a way to get them off again in no more than 18 seconds, and there is a distinct possibility that this time, at least one of the socks will be lost forever.

5. I learned that you can compensate for a baby’s lack of socks by placing a giant bow on her head. You know, for warmth.

6. I learned that peach floral wallpaper has been lurking beneath the wainscoting in our kitchen and that if I could travel back in time I would beg the previous owners not to slather the walls in river rock textured paint.

7. I learned that when your baby gets up at 6:30 AM on church day, you have no excuse to not actually blow-dry and straighten your hair for the first time in like a year. (I’m not exaggerating. I know, I make it a rule to Not Be Taken Seriously. But for real. Take me seriously this time.) You can lessen the gravity of this monumental event by making weird faces while your husband tries to capture it on film.

…and also by making faces that suggest you are about to eat your child.

8. I learned how to make my own social media icons using the tutorial I mentioned here. It was painless except for the fact that I basically have a better chance of recreating that ball maneuver from #3 than understanding html code. (But see the buttons up there? They work. Miraculously. Feel free to follow along if you don’t already!)

9. I learned that my baby is cute.

10. I learned that I already knew my baby was cute, and that I just wanted an excuse to include more pictures of her in my post.

11. I learned that when I write about chocolate peanut butter ice cream, I am basically required to also eat some so that I can accurately capture the full essence of what I’m describing. And then I end up freezing and pining for that oven, and then I get too hot and need to eat more ice cream, and it’s like “When You Give a Moose a Muffin” only less of a page-turner and higher in calories.

Hope you have a great weekend! :)

ps-I just added some more ads to my site and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let me know if anything annoying pops up like a video ad.

Easy DIY Inkblot Pillow {Plus Free Psych Eval}

Have you ever wondered if you demonstrate any traits typically aligned with a hamster running in its wheel, are the social equivalent of a spatula, or have an underlying attraction to canned beans?*

*No? What ARE you, sane?

Well, wonder no more. Behold: the inkblot pillow with which I will analyze your psyche.

The process of making said inkblot pillow/legit psyche analysis tool was simple: I dripped some stashed navy Olympic paint on one half of a stashed square piece of white fabric…

…then folded it over and pressed down gently, making sure all drips got flattened up against the other half.

Then I unfolded it and let it dry before sewing it to the rest of the pillow. Done and done. I am a girl after Rorschach’s own heart. (Do me a favor and pretend that makes sense.)

Now that you’ve gotten that mind-boggling tutorial, it’s time for that mind-boggling psychiatric eval. So picture us lounging in a comfortable room, filled with calming, sophisticated decor, me with pen in hand, patiently awaiting your brain dump. It looks something like this:

And I will say, “Tell me what you see. Tell me what you see. You are getting sleepy.” (Wait, what? No.)

Tell me that you see Bob Marley. Because I totally see Bob Marley. Upper corners. Yes? No? …?

Rick says it looks like a brain and that he doesn’t want a brain on display in his house. My professional evaluation of this is that his repugnancy has nothing to do with brains at all, but, rather, inextricably linked to the fact that he is a man. And like most men, he has a subconscious fear that pillows can bench-press more than him and defeat him in a chicken wing-eating contest, and also that pillows are capable of sneaking into his bedroom and chopping off his…arm. Yep, we’ll go with arm. And yes, I know what you’re thinking: finally, a logical explanation for why my husband hates my decorative pillows. You’re welcome.

I asked Kenley what she saw and she said “coogurgeeeehhhhlaa.” Which obviously means “I see an arachnid weaving a vast web of beauty and grace.” Thoughtful, succinct, poetic. She obviously has a brilliant mother. ;)

What do YOU see in the inkblot?  Do you agree with my explanation of why men hate pillows?

P.S. Want to see more pillows? I promise they don’t come with psych evals.

smile pillow, lace overlay pillow, gift bow pillow

 

Linking up to Rock What Ya Got!