Capturing Christmas Vacation

One more day to go ...

I feel kind of like a kid on the last day of school. Just one more day of work and then I don't have to be back until Tuesday. Something tells me it's going to be a long day, though. In this picture, Marcy is trying to catch a snowball, but I think it looks like she's doing some sort of happy, school's out dance. It's like she knows she gets to go to Grandma's.

I'm really excited for this Christmas, because I got a new camera and I can't wait to play around with it. I love taking candid portraits of my family members when they don't know I'm doing it. I think people look so much better in pictures when they have no idea they're being taken.

So, to be a covert photo sneak, it's essential to not use a flash. I hate using a flash anyway, because it makes people look totally washed out and blows everything out so that all you have left is contrasts.

Being very poor, I have a very low-end camera that I got on sale on Black Friday. Among the joys of living in a small town is having specialty stores where you're addressed by name upon walking in the front door. You receive trustworthy advice and a never-ending free pass for asking questions of people who are experts in their field. Such is the case with Hokenson's, the camera store here in town.

Both Bill and Bob are excellent photographers who know what they're talking about, but also know how to explain everything in layman's terms. I took photography in high school, so I used to know how to use my 1970s Canon AE-1 fairly well. I also used to know how to develop black and white film. But, those days are gone, my Canon is broken and I don't have a darkroom. Seeing as film is quite expensive to develop, I decided I really wanted a digital camera.

Enter the Black Friday sale. I found some cash in a pocket and had some more money in my savings account, so I decided to check out the sales. I told Bob what I wanted and how much I had to spend. For $70 -- which was $20 less than usual -- I got an Olympus T-100.

So far, it's a great little camera. It's a 12 megapixel with 3x optical zoom. There are these neat art filters, which can distort the image and you can manually adjust all sorts of setting.

I am by no means an expert photographer, but this Christmas, I'm hoping some of the things I've learned from having to shoot at work will help out in my low-light settings.

The biggest thing is your ISO setting. The lower the light, the higher you want to set this. On my little camera, the ISO goes up to 1600, which I was recently advised is the highest you really want to set it. Any higher, and you start to get a lot of noise -- the grainy, pixelated look.

There are other settings, which I don't quite understand. Though they're the same as they were on the old AE-1, I haven't had time to read the manual to figure out which is which and how to use them. But one neat feature of my camera is it has little screens that show how changing each setting will affect the exposure. Playing around with the camera before the big event you want to shoot helps a lot. I've been having fun, and I'll continue to share tips I pick up along the way.

In the meantime, I really have to go to work. As anxious as I am not to start what promises to be a long day, I'm already late. But, with the promise of lovely vacation time on the horizon, surely my mood will be much more cheerful than my bah-humbug attitude of late.

Progress?

I suppose eternal optimists would look at this and say "well, you did something." While I'm really good at being optimistic for others, I'm too honest about my own shortcomings to acknowledge this as progress.

I can say this -- it will be done for Christmas. I'm just not sure anything else will be. My Christmas gift list is going to have to be modified, and store-bought gifts will need to be added. Which is such a disappointment. I was really excited to give handmade gifts for Christmas.

All hope is not lost, however. I began making a doll ages ago which, as it came together, was clearly meant to belong to my niece. While it's not what you would call "done" it's close enough to know it will be by Christmas. So, I'll at least have two gifts done for the tiniest of those on my list.

If I modify my expectations -- become a little more practical, perhaps? -- I think I could make two smaller amigurumis for my other young nieces. The original intention was to have larger stuffed animals to give them, but the 4-inch versions are still adorable. Am I justifying? Perhaps.

Once Christmas is over, I'll post pictures of the completed projects (however many I get done) and links to the patterns I used. Until then, I don't want to ruin the surprise for any recipients (or really their parents) who read this.

If anyone's looking for great, easy-to-read patterns, check out Lion Brand's website. This site is genius and I love it. If you sign up, you can download patterns and it saves any notes you want to make. Additionally, there is this neat little stitch counter that can be dragged around to point at which row you're on. It's really useful when you have lots of rows where you're doing single crochets over and over and over and over.

I'm also working on a pattern right now from Caron International Yarn's project website, and it's also really easy-to-use. When I started this project, I found the same pattern which someone had re-posted, but it was rewritten in a really confusing manner. When I accidentally deleted the pattern I wanted and the website it came from and realized I was using a different (and really ugly) one, I googled the text of the pattern. Both the one I wanted and the one I was mistakenly using were from the same site.

But instead of sending me to the re-posted site, Google directed me to Caron's site, and what a blessing that was. Just the simple matter of using a clearly written pattern has saved me hours and hours of trying to figure out what I'm doing.

Well, must run. It's almost time for work. But I wonder, is anyone else having a hard time completing their overly-ambitious Christmas projects? I'd appreciate hearing about them. I guess it's true, misery does love company!

All I Want For Christmas

Dear Santa,

Please can I have a Baby Panda for Christmas?

Baby Panda born at Zoo Atlanta on Nov. 3. (Photo courtesy of zooatlanta.org)

I'd take really good care of it. I'd sit all day long, just like a Panda Mama and hold it and love it to pieces. I'm really good at taking care of animals. Just ask the five that call me mom already.

As for them, they'd really like a Panda Baby, too. I swear.

I've been really good this year. I go to work every day and I only spend enough time watching Zoo Atlanta's Panda Cam on my work computer to KNOW I would be really good at taking care of one.

Anyway, if you bring me a Panda Baby for Christmas, I'll never ask for anything ever again for the rest of my life.

Love,

Jodie.

P.S. I'll be spending the night at my mom's house on Christmas Eve, so if you could just leave the Panda Baby under her tree, that'd be awesome.

Dear Everyone Else,

To watch the panda, go to Zoo Atlanta's Panda Cam.

But beware ... you may be caught cooing and awwing over it while sitting at your computer, mesmerized by cuteness. It's a bit dangerous, really. If, like me, you just need a dose of adorable every once in awhile to get you through the day, you may find your coworkers saying "Are you looking at that baby panda again," after you sigh audibly for the 27th time in five minutes. But, it's worth it.

On a complete separate note, my sister created my beautiful new blog header. Isn't she the talentedest?

How to make bows

Luckily, I don't set lofty and unattainable goals for myself or procrastinate ...

I just counted and I have 15 more days until Christmas. I'm counting today (thought it's after midnight and it really is tomorrow), because I will crochet until 5 a.m., as I have the past three nights in a row, and I'm counting Christmas Eve, because some of my presents won't be given until Christmas Day and last minute finishes can be done before or after the festivities.

Fortunately, and true to form, I decided to take the easy road and crochet handmade gifts for 12 people. Which really wouldn't be that many, if I had spent the whole year working on them -- that's only one per month. Actually, that line of reasoning doesn't make me feel any better.

I led this post off with a picture of my Christmas tree, which I felt some accomplishment in getting up the first weekend of December. The best part was I had help. Mommy came up, and in festive tradition, we listened to the Carpenter's Christmas album while trimming my tree.

My favorite part is the bows:

I was going to buy bows, but I decided that, with Mommy's crafty genius close at hand, we could make them. So, we started with a spool of ribbon and a package of ornament hooks.

With her uncanny mind for working things out, Mommy realized that if she cut the ribbon to a point in the middle at the ends ...

the next could be cut to two points at the ends, eliminating any waste of ribbon.

Step 1: Once your ribbon is cut, fold it in half over your index finger.

Unfortunately, I had to use myself as a hand model, so these pictures are full of my crazy witch fingers. If you can avoid being distracted by how ugly my hands are, read on …

Step 2: Twist the ribbon once. This will make a loop around your finger that will become the center of the bow. Hold onto the twisted material with your thumb. This is the back of the bow, where all the pieces will come together.

When I learned how to tie my shoes, my parents told me to make two "bunny ears" and then tie those in a knot. I think the bunny ears idea is helpful here.

Step 3: Take one of the ends of the ribbon and, to one side of the center of the bow, make a bunny ear with the nice side of the ribbon facing out. This will form the first side of the bow. Make sure to leave enough of the end hanging down for the bow's tail. Where this half of the bow meets the back, twist the tail so that its nice side is facing out also.

Step 4: Pull the tail of the first bunny ear down, so you have room to make the second. With the remaining half of the ribbon, fold it into the second bunny ear, meeting at the center and leaving a tail. Twist this tail, also, so the nice side is facing out.

Step 5: Still holding with your thumb, feed the end of the ornament hook in between the back of your index finger and all the layers of ribbon.

Step 6: Fold the ornament hook up and wrap the end (that normally secures the ornaments to the hook) around the top of the hook. Tighten everything up by pulling up on the top of the ornament hook and squishing all the pieces together.

Step 7: Your bow is going to look a little bit wonky …

so fiddle with it until it looks pretty.

The beauty of using the ornament hooks is, you can twist the top of the hook to the side and it's ready to put on the tree. Also, they are very easy to manipulate. If you don't want to hang your bows on the tree, just use the cutty part of needle-nose pliers to cut off the end of the hook, and fold any pokey edges in behind the center loop. (I really hope no one is confused by the technical jargon I use.)

It was kind of providence that we decided to use the hooks. We originally searched high and low at Kmart to find the spools of twist-tie like stuff, but to no avail. Then, Mommy had the genius idea of using the ornament hooks. She's super handy.

I hope this helps. I think these bows ended up tons cuter than the bows that were already made that I was going to buy. And I got about 15 bows out of one spool of ribbon.

Good luck to the rest of you procrastinators out there. I hope your Merry Christmas Crafting is going much more quickly than mine. But, I'll keep you apprised of how it goes. Right now, I'm working on one of many stuffed animals I hope to make, but it's slow and each night I think I'm going to get so much more done than I do.

I'm off to work my ugly witch fingers to the bone.

An Examination of My Successes and Failures

I'll limit the list to this summer. I could write several volumes on the successes and failures of my 29 1/2 years in this world. However, I tend to believe I'm at least six months shy of an age that even warrants a memoir.

These are the successes and failures I achieved, primarily through gardening, this past summer -- with pictures. I had thought to list them like with like, successes with successes and failures with failures, but seeing all the failures lined up like that was too depressing. So, here goes. In no order of importance.

Success: Growing Lettuce

I was really good at this. At least until it got really hot and I went out of town for a weekend and came back to kind of dry and shriveled up lettuce plants. I heard this happens, though, and next year I plan on doing two rounds of lettuce -- one in spring and one around midsummer.

Doesn't that look delicious?

Truth be told, I'm so good at growing lettuce, I refuse to eat salad now. That stuff in the bag just tastes nasty and I want nothing to do with it.

When I started the garden, everyone told me how much better homegrown vegetables taste. I believed there would be some merit to this, but didn't necessarily understand that its truth is absolute. This lettuce was the first thing ready to harvest (doesn't that sound gardenery?) and my first bite was scrumptious. I'll probably never have a salad during winter months again.

Success: Nurturing Lilacs

I have to admit something. I talk to my plants. More than that, I listen for them to answer back. For example, when my friend D gave me this lilac, I asked it where it wanted to live and it said "right over there between the fence and the house." So, I planted it there. It flourished this summer, and I can't wait to see how it does next year.


Failure: Nurturing Lilacs

At the same time, the other two lilacs D gave me said, "we want to live between the fence and the house too!" And I said, "no! I want you to live along Mrs. Wilson's fence." So, I planted them there, where they spent the summer deeply unhappy and slowly fading away.

I didn't take a picture. It was too sad.

I'm really hoping they are still alive in the spring, at which time I will move them so they are planted where they always wanted to be -- between the fence and the house. Then, I will spend the spring, summer and fall apologizing for not listening to them in the first place.

Success: Crocheting a Present for New Baby Next Door

While I intended to have this done in time for my neighbor's baby shower but didn't give it to her until after the baby was born, I still consider this a success. After all, I think it's totally adorable.

It's a giraffe, though I don't really think I need to point that out. However, after several people at work laughed at it and asked what it was, I guess it's worth mentioning. My neighbor said it was her tiny son's first handmade gift, so that made me feel good.

Crocheting is a lovely pastime, and I really enjoy doing it while I watch TV. It also serves as a reminder that Mommy is right, I can do anything I put my mind to. I decided about a year ago I wanted to crochet, so I got a book from the library and I've made several of these little amigurumi animals and two scarves. I'm working on an afghan, as well, but once I started making animals everything else was forgotten for awhile.

Failure: Nurturing Ferns

This one is tough for me to admit because at the beginning of the summer, I thought I would be the best fern grower in Manistee County and that, before long, my yard would be full of their leafy loveliness. However, this is pretty much as big as any of them got:

 

Then they shriveled up and died.

Imagine my dismay every time I looked around. There were huge ferns growing wild all over the forest untended by anyone but Mother Nature. All the while, mine just died. To give them credit, they kept trying to come back, and then they would die again.

I also had an iris and some phlox planted in the same area, and neither of those did very well either, so I'm going to move them next spring when they start to come up and hope it was something about that location.

Success: Container Planting

I never planted containers before this year, but I really think they turned out quite pretty.

I loved this one. I was pretty good at maintaining these, too. Though it was really hot and dry this summer, and occasionally they would get a little wilty, I always nursed them back to health.

I also discovered a love of zinnias, which I will forever more plant in abundance. They are such happy, hearty flowers and have such vibrant colors. They did well in both my containers and my beds, and they were purchased later in the season when everything was on sale. Even the ones that looked a little rough ended up thriving.

I also love the green and white plants that are with the zinnias in this planter. I planted some that were pink and green, which also looked nice. These were extremely hearty and I'm going to look for them from now on too.


Success: Outdoor Living Spaces

I can't really take credit for this one:

Mommy, Uncle Keith and Uncle Pat came up for a week and one of our activities was to cut down the mulberry tree in my yard. Bittersweet though it was to say goodbye to the beautiful tree, it was so nice to not have to worry about the mess of the mulberries and the stains the dogs were leaving all over the house after traipsing through the purple mush that was my backyard.

This bench was made from the trunk of the tree, and all the credit goes to The Uncles. They also used other pieces from the trunk to make planter stands for my patio and the effect was totally charming.

This became my favorite spot and every morning I took my coffee and book out and sat on the bench.

Failure: Maintaining Outdoor Living Spaces

While the one pictured above remained blissful all summer, my patio was often a mess and the lovely birdbath and feeder set up I wrote about in June was no longer visible behind the pile of brush from the mulberry tree.

See, the idea was I would drag the brush out to the street because the city provides a chipping service. But I never did and it continues to sit there as a constant reminder of my laziness and ineptitude.

One of my favorite Mommyisms is "tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life," and just as I can start becoming who I want to be tomorrow, I can also be the gardener and yard guru I want to be next spring. So, number one on my list of things to do come warmth is drag the brush out to the road.

I'd take a picture, but it really is embarrassing.

Failure: This Blog

What I began with such gumption and surety of success was quickly discarded by the wayside for other more important pursuits like marathon sessions of watching "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and "Angel."

I've spent a lot of time beating myself up for not being what I want to be ... but there's a reason this blog is called SEEKING Practical Perfection. I'm on a quest, and though I continuously set expectations for myself -- lofty, unattainable expectations -- I need to stop criticizing myself for not achieving them. Instead, as every quest involves a journey, I need to set forth on my path to practical perfection, and see where it takes me.

Redesign

 Shamefacedly, I sit before you.

I just counted the number of months since I last posted, and I'm too embarrassed to even write it out loud (4!).

But, instead of dwelling, I'm going to share one of my proudest moments and then continue with my life.

Instead of going to college, I went to acting school. If I'd ended up becoming an actor, perhaps my continued student loan payments wouldn't seem quite so galling, however my certificate in acting hasn't really given me an edge on the competition in the writing market. But, the experience wasn't without its joys and successes.

In our last semester, a great deal of time was spent preparing for our showcase, the intent of which was to show the world how prepared we were for the reality of the pretend world that is show business. During rehearsals, I had my heart absolutely set on a couple of the scenes the directors had picked for us. I was cast in none of those, and was extremely disappointed.

In the words of my ex-husband, "we don't always get what we want in life" and, as with most things, what I ended up with was even better than what I thought I wanted.

I was cast in a scene from an adaptation of Dickens' Nicholas Nickleby. It ended up being a delightful scene, where I played the role of Fanny. I was fortunately able to draw from my deep love of all that is ridiculous for this scene, and it paid off. There is nothing quite like the roar of laughter when you've trapped an audience, capturing them in surprise and delight.

My family and close friends are well aware I will do anything for a laugh, as apparently was anyone watching that scene.

High on the clouds of post-performance bliss, I was approached by my favorite teacher at that school.

"You have no shame," he told me. "Never lose that quality."

Well, I haven't. So, here I am again, shamefacedly, but somehow still lacking shame.

It was kind of a tumultuous summer, and I find myself entering winter with a desire to redesign, reinvent, revive, rejuvenate. All of it. My life, my house, my blog ... the list goes on.

I often beat myself up over what I haven't done. This was no different, but upon thinking about it, I realized the prefix "re" modifies something that is already in place. According to the beloved dictionary.com, the it means "back to the original place, again."

I had to acknowledge that the structure for the life that I want is already in place, it's just a matter of going back to it, again, and again, and again. Somehow, it seems easier and much less daunting to beat myself up instead, but I suppose that energy would be better used actually doing something. So, I started here.

Wish me luck, I seem to need a lot of it.

p.s. I realize the picture really doesn't have anything at all to do with any of this, except I suppose one could say that each sunset brings an opportunity to redesign, reinvent, revive and rejuvenate. If I wanted to seem really philosophical, I would leave it at that and not admit that I liked the picture and didn't really have anything else to post with this.

Outdoor Living

I'm not sure how I deleted the entire post I was almost done with ... but I did. Here's my best attempt at recreating it:

Unlike my Little Dog, I love birds.

While she enjoys nothing better than to dart around screaming ferociously about the audacity of their very existence with the fervor of a religious zealot, I'm content to sit quietly and watch as they do their birdy things.

However, most of the time I'm outside, there's a couple of dogs who expect to be by my side ... a fact that hasn't gone without notice in the bird community.

For ages now, I've wanted a birdbath. I'm pretty sure it dates back to one fateful walk in Inwood Hill Park (a miraculous place, which happens to be home to the only remaining natural forest in all of New York City). The dogs and I were finishing up our hike, and we'd come out of the woods on the north side of the park by the soccer fields.

As I walked, I happened to glance over to a nook between the trees and the brush on the steep incline of one of the many rocky cliffs that makes up that wondrous place. There, a tiny waterfall created by a recent rainfall had a miniature lagoon collecting at its base, and in that pool played several little birds.

I stood, somewhat rapt, watching as those little flyers splashed the water up onto their backs then shook their feathers and primped and preened. It was such a delightful sight, and one I was allowed to quietly enjoy as Little Dog hadn't yet discovered her deep loathing of everything that resembles birdkind.

Inwood Hill is partly responsible for my intense need to have my own yard, so it stands to reason that the root of my birdbath longing would also originate there.

When I moved, I started shopping the birdbath aisles, looking for just the right thing. I also began checking out feeders, figuring I could set up a little birdie bar and grille in my backyard. There were a couple of K-Mart spectaculars that caught my eye -- one an "antique stone" (or regular cement) number with a lion head on the back (I really liked that one) and the other the standard mosaic fare. However, I couldn't ever find myself justifying the expense.

But this weekend, at that Bargain Barn (seriously, the Bargain Barn ... a.k.a. the "K-Marts North" a.k.a. "my favorite store ever") I found my bird feeder:

I brought it home and Matt helped me hang it in the tree right next to my patio. He and my dad sat and shook their heads as I tried time after time to talk birds into going to it and having a snack. I couldn't understand why they didn't all flock their immediately.

A tip on the bag of seed said that water draws the birds, so by Monday when still no birds had come to the feast, I decided fate had intervened to tell me it was time to get my long-desired birdbath.

As the Bargain Barn didn't have any birdbaths, I had to turn to another delightful staple of my rural northern Michigan town, a new store called Family Farm and Home. I'd been in there a couple of weeks ago and seen a birdbath I didn't really care for, but for only $12. I figured it had to be worth it if only the birds would come take their lunch break in my yard.

When I got to the Farm store, I couldn't find the birdbath I didn't really like, but this one, which I think is awesome, was there for only $11.19:

It's like old-timey metal, but in plastic form. It looks really good until you get up close and see the old-timey metal colored brush strokes. But that kind of thing doesn't bother me.

I bought it on Monday, and by Tuesday morning there was a bird-bash going on at my patio. Birds were snarfing down the seed at the feeder, splashing around in the bath and primping and preening on every available perch.

Caramelizing Concerns

It's 2 a.m. and I'm going to bake a cake. And I'm not taking the easy route, either. No boxes, no cans of frosting. I'm baking this puppy from scratch, and it involves caramelizing pears and everything.

I had a challenging day, and I thought to come home and write, because I've been away from this so long. But, in addition to writing, I discovered I need to DO something, too. The motivation isn't there to clean (which is what I really should be doing -- 2nd wave of family coming in two days) and I've been meaning to try this baking thing since Monday when I gathered all the ingredients.

Most of the gathering took place at the grocery store, however I needed a small amount of brandy or bourbon for this recipe. I didn't want to buy a whole bottle because I'm not allowed to have bourbon ever again. Luckily, I live a half a block away from my favorite bar. Admittedly, I felt a little bit strange walking down the street to ask for a couple spoonfuls of booze, but I reasoned that it's no different than asking a neighbor for a cup of sugar (something else I've never done before). It all worked out, and any thoughts that my walk home carrying of those condiment cups of Jim Beam was even stranger that my walk to the bar were erased by my excitement over my certainty I was about to embark on a path toward baking genius.

I didn't get to it for a couple days, but the determination is overwhelming now.

First off, I should mention what we're making. I recently read Molly Wizenberg's "A Homemade Life" and loved it. In fact, it's part of what got me to thinking about doing this blog. She's writes the blog Orangette, and this recipe was in her book. I also found it on her site, so here's the link:

http://orangette.blogspot.com/2005/10/how-i-hit-hard-ball-stage.html

Here I go, for real.

Step 1: Do dishes. OK, so I did have to do some cleaning. It's like multi-tasking ... sort of.

Step 2: Assemble ingredients.

Step 3: Bake.

Step 4: Make caramel pear sauce stuff.

Seems simple enough, and so far, so good. I have to say I was incredibly concerned because when I put the batter in the cake pan, it was sticky and lumpy and didn't look great.

I was a little apprehensive of the batter, also, because it smelled kind of funny. But it tasted good, so I licked the bowl clean.

Several hours later ...

A lot of this was nerve-wracking. Aside from the lumpy sticky batter, I was obsessively worried while making the caramel sauce. Don't let anyone tell you a watched skillet doesn't caramelize. It does. It just seems like it won't.

As the cake cooled, I decided since I didn't have to show anyone, I could slice a bit of the edge off and give it a try. I was delighted! It was really nice and crisp. Sweet and tangy with the lemon zest, ginger and molasses really making it distinctive.

All of this was surprisingly easier than I ever would have thought it would be. It looked like it was going to turn out!

OK, I got too excited as the time to eat the cake neared. I decided I had to share. At exactly that same moment, my boyfriend called and said he would eat some cake if I brought it over. So, I put the cake in bowls, drove it over to his house and tried to protect it from the drizzling rain as I searched my keychain for his key. Unfortunately, my innate inability to find keys isn't just limited to when I've set them down and can't remember where. Apparently, it extends to when they're in my hand, I'm balancing two bowls of cake on my arm and it's dark and raining.

It's now 5:31 a.m. The light's starting to break outside, just the slightest bit and the dishes are done. The birds are chirping and I have this deep satisfaction that I cooked something and it turned out right. It was really lovely. The flavors complemented each other perfectly. I enjoyed it, and Matt said he did too. I'm quite sure he would say so no matter what, but I think he really did think it was good.

The best part is, I forgot all about the challenges that were weighing me down when I got home from work, and I believe in a very few moments, I'll be able to lay down and not worry about anything except how much cake I get to eat for breakfast.

The Countdown is On

I'm about to embark on family visit mania.

One of the highlights of living in a summer paradise is the family likes to come visit. All of my adult years, I've lived somewhere other people want to visit and up here, it's fun to gain a fresh perspective on my quaint little town.

So often, it's easy to dwell on the day-to-day minutia of it and forget to look around and appreciate what I have.

But, when the family comes, I'm offered the opportunity to be thankful for living near the beach, having a yard that's easy to hang out in, having a house and enough air mattresses to throw big slumber parties and just generally living in a completely beautiful place.

While all that is great, there is a problem. I am in no way shape or form ready to have these guests! I have a list a mile long -- the above is just a sample -- of things I want done before they arrive. Plus, most of them haven't visited for quite some time and there isn't much different since they saw the house last.

A couple of months ago, when the visit talk started, I thought to impress everyone with how much progress I'd made since the last time they were here. I thought to wow with my home improvement prowess, sending everyone back downstate with awe for what a little Debbie Domestic I've become.

Now, I'll be lucky if it's clean!

But, my family is very low key, and I know they won't judge me ... at least not to my face. But tomorrow I must get started on some of the things on my list. I probably won't get to all of them, but I can try.

My dad will be the first visitor, and he's coming solo so it'll start out slow. I have a project planned to complete with him, probably on Saturday.

When I was little, my dad used to make the best pickles. I was thinking of things I wanted to do for this site, and I asked if he'd be interested in making pickles with me. He doesn't have the same recipe, but I figure the Web is sure to deliver something we can use.

I'm actually pretty excited about the shopping. I've always loved Mason jars.

Anyway, that's the plan. But first, I must clean up. All of the working on the yard has turned the inside of the house into a sty. Wish me luck. I've certainly got my work cut out for me.

I cooked. Seriously

Here's the evidence, right next to the picture from the cookbook:

Not exactly the same ...

Moving to rural northern Michigan from New York City has its ups and downs.

Considering I'm not from this area, upon finding out I spent a number of years living in big cities, people always wonder how -- and why -- I ended up here. There really is more to it than I wanted to live by Lake Michigan (though not much), but that's another story for another day.

Today's story is about curry.

Aside from missing my friends like crazy, there is very little about my choice to move that I'm not satisfied with on a daily basis. The pace of life here is comfortably laid back, the cost of living is so much beyond cheaper I can't even begin to describe ... and did I mention Lake Michigan?

But, I miss my friends and I miss going to watch them be talented. I miss the diversity of New York. And I so incredibly miss the food.

I was never in a position where I could afford to go out to eat much. Not proper-like, at least. But, there was a lot of take out in my life. And a lot of variety.

And I recently realized it has been three years since I ate Indian food -- and I don't mean the casino buffet. Not Native American Indian, I mean the kind of Indian from India.

So, here is the retelling of my first attempt at real cooking.

I've cooked other stuff, but never anything more complicated than pounding and flouring a pork chop, opening a can of green beans and throwing together one of those boxes of au gratin potatoes (a delicious meal, mind you, but not exactly a challenge).

The recipe I used was from a cookbook I picked up in the grocery store last year. I love cookbooks (pretty hysterical, considering last night was the first time I actually used one), and this was one of those glorified magazines, all about chicken. Well, what did I have to lose?

There were several things in the recipe I didn't have in my cupboard, so I made my shopping list and went the the grocery store. I'm hoping, through these cooking experiments I intend to do, I'll be able to build my cupboards into something that is somewhat functional. Something where, if I want to make a recipe, I don't have to go out and spend a ton of money collecting ingredients I've never heard of before.

The recipe said the prep time for this was 8 minutes and the cook time 24 minutes (did I mention the cookbook is "quick and easy" recipes?), which is actually kind of funny because I spent over two hours on this meal. Given the fact that I didn't start cooking until after midnight and hadn't really sat down all day, I was really tired by the time I ate (between 2:30 and 3!).

There were some really interesting moments in the process -- like when I wondered how I got the knobbly thing that was under the sign at the grocery store that said "ginger" to look like something that belonged in a sauce.

These Internets really are a wonder, because all I had to do was Google "how to chop ginger" and click on the first thing I saw. On that page, there was a link showing how to peel ginger, which apparently is the first step of chopping it. This trick with the spoon is brilliant, so I copied the link: http://allrecipes.com/HowTo/Peeling-Ginger/Detail.aspx.

I noticed some of the time frames in the recipe were pretty short, like adding ingredients then adding more ingredients two minutes later, so I decided to prepare everything in separate bowls, putting the stuff together that needed to be added at the same time.

Perhaps this sounds a little elementary, but this cooking stuff is terrifying business, and I really thought this whole process out.

My favorite part was adding the spices, because the recipe said to "cook until fragrant." There was no doubt what that meant. It smelled so delicious in my house, I couldn't help but hope that was some sort of good sign of what was to come.

I have to say, the entire process was pretty entertaining. I did do some things wrong, though.

The sauce ended up being way too thin, and I think there were two factors involved. The recipe called for frozen spinach, thawed, and said to squeeze out the excess water. I don't think I did a good enough job with this. My hands got really cold, and I was already over an hour into the process and getting hungry. But, rushing is not worth ruining the giant vat of sauce. The other factor was, I mistakenly used diced can tomatoes instead of crushed. I'm wondering if crushed might give it a thicker consistency.

There was one other issue with this. It said to stir the chicken into this mess, and cover simmering for 10 minutes. The chicken most certainly wasn't done that quickly. And besides, doing it the way the recipe said sort of created this boiled chicken that had kind of a squishy consistency.

I've decided the next time I make something like this, I'm going to brown the chicken a little first, and then finish cooking it in the sauce. I think that would work a lot better.

In the end, it tasted pretty good. I love cumin. I didn't realize that until yesterday. But, it wasn't spicy enough, and as I mentioned, it was really too thin. But, I'll keep searching for the recipe that reminds me of sitting on my office floor in New York with Ann at midnight the night before the big hair show, eating curry and complaining about how much work we still had to do.

I'll still miss my friends. In some ways, I'll still miss New York.

But, this week, I won't be missing curry.

New Friend

I met this fellow tonight on the side of M-22.

I was driving along, enjoying the beautiful stretch of highway and I saw movement on the side of the road. I slowed down instantly, prepared to slam on my brakes for whatever was about to dart out at me.

However, there was no darting being done by this old man.

When I noticed the sheer enormity of this creature, I had to pull off and take a picture. I wish I were a turtle expert and could tell you how old he is -- or even what kind -- but, even with a shocking lack of turtle trivia in my arsenal, I was able to enjoy the few moments I spent in his company.

He just looked at me like, "What?"

And I answered, "You better be careful if you're thinking about crossing this road."

And he was like, "Oh, you're giving me advice?"

Which, I have to admit, he has a point.

In the meantime, he totally made my day. And I am so glad I was able to snap a picture, because he is one of the coolest creatures I've ever seen. I'm thinking I should print this picture out and put it in a frame.

Maybe it will remind me of this advice from a turtle: When crossing a road, be big enough so people can see you and go slow enough that they have to go around you. Keep your armor in tact, but understand that it's a wonderful thing that your insides are soft and vulnerable. And remember, your shell slopes down, which helps everything roll right off your back.

If all else fails, wield one of your dinosaur legs in a threatening manner. Some are bound to be intimidated by that.

Anyways, the Chickens are in the pot. So are the Hens! It started raining though, so I wasn't able to take a picture. But I do have this to share:

I called Sis to tell her about trimming my bush for the first time and started laughing so hysterically I couldn't manage to continue. So, I didn't get any tips from her on bush trimming, but I imagine it's a lot like when I started cutting my own hair.

The first time (cutting my hair that is), I started with my bangs. And cried. And immediately called a hair stylist and made an emergency appointment. When I got there, he made fun of me and what a bad job I did cutting my hair the whole time. I guess that kept him busy, because he didn't fix my bangs at all. I cried again.

(I should probably mention that I worked for a world-class stylist in New York for almost three years, and during that length of time, had the best hair ever. The instance I mentioned was my first post-working-for-the-salon experience.)

I tried a couple other people out, but had this problem where, every time I told them, "Please don't give me a mullet," they would give me a mullet. So, one day (probably a few beers in) I picked up the $7 Goody scissors I'd bought at the grocery store and started hacking. The scissors were so dull the hair kept slipping out the ends. But I kept hacking.

I have fairly short hair, so to see the back, I took a little makeup mirror and held it up, grabbed chunks that looked uneven, set the mirror down, switched the chunk into the other hand, picked up the scissors, and hacked again.

About a year later, I wouldn't say I have it down to a science, and I still cry every once in awhile while I'm cutting, but I upgraded to $25 scissors from Sally Beauty Supply and they're actually sharp enough that they cut the hair. Overall it's better than a mullet.

I'm thinking trimming my bush (still laughing, sorry!) is going to be the same way. I ran away the first time I tried, after I realized I left big holes in the overall shape of it. But, once I calm down, and think about how I want it to look, I'm sure I'll be able to make it look at least better than it does right now.

Maybe I'll try tomorrow. Come to think of it, my hair really needs a trim, too.

HUGE DISCLAIMER: I don't really recommend anyone cut their own hair. Most people have a much higher level of success going to salons than I seem to, and my years working at one made me realize that hair stylists are often extremely talented and well-trained people. HOWEVER, something about me must scream mullet ... so, if anyone out there finds themselves in a similar predicament, I guess a good way to gauge whether or not cutting your own hair is a good idea is by asking yourself this question: "Could it look worse?" If the answer is yes, chances are cutting it yourself will get you there. If the answer, like mine, is no, then what do you have to lose?

Solace and Tools

To say it's been a challenging week would be an understatement.

But as I was sending a complainy e-mail to a friend tonight, I told him about this blog and I realized something. I've already started to look forward to this. It's like, fun. It's fun to think about, to plan and it's actually fun to write.

This, my gardens, my grand plans for food I'm going to cook and just the idea of projects that are all about me and what I want have given me something that resembles light at the end of a sometimes long and dark tunnel. It's a certain solace that I didn't have before.

And tomorrow, I can look forward to planting these:

Hens and Chickens!

D6 gave them to me. She's given me lots of wonderful plants since I moved into this house, which I promise to write about in more detail soon. But, these Hens and Chickens are the latest, and from my perspective, one of the greatest.

I remember being fascinated by the barrel of Hens and Chicks that were in our backyard growing up. They are just the neatest thing. They are a succulent, which according to Merriam Webster, means they have fleshy tissue that conserves moisture.

They spread, too. I can't wait to see how they do. For now, I'm going to put them in these pots I got a couple of years ago, before I moved into my house, and have yet to use. I'll have to keep my eye out for a big, old barrel for them.

And, I have to send a nod in D's direction, because as she has told me (so many times, but my exuberance seems to get the better of me every single time), it's bad luck to say "thank you" when someone gives you plants. You're just supposed to nod, and then they know you feel grateful.

Speaking of gratitude, and I think I'm allowed to in this instance, I am so lucky to have my master gardeners giving me advise. Between D, Sis and Mommy, I have learned so much already! Some time soon, I'll have to write about their gardens, because they truly are spectacular.

They are giving me the tools I need to do this, and as I'm learning in other aspects of life, without the proper tools and knowledge, life can be extremely frustrating.

And since I'm sure it's been the burning question on so many people's minds, I did finish planting the marigolds yesterday. I also mowed the lawn.

I was on the phone with my darling fellow yesterday when I pulled up to my house and said, "Wow, look at what a nice yard that girl has!" Luckily, he finds me charming (I think). But, it really does look nice.

It's supposed to rain Saturday, which is probably a good thing for my plants, and the inside of my house which has become frightfully neglected. I need to clean something awful!

Also coming Saturday: I'm going to try to make this chicken curry I have a recipe for. We'll see. It looks fantastic in the picture in the cookbook. One of the hardest things about moving from New York City to a small town in northern Michigan is the lack of food choices. I miss Indian food so very much! So, I will have to learn to recreate it. I promise to report on the details.

A Million Down, Eight To Go

One little, two little, three little marigolds
Four little, five little six little marigolds
Seven little, eight little ... really, only eight little marigolds left?

After proclaiming for days on end that I'm going to finish the planting tomorrow, I really am going to finish the planting tomorrow. Even if I stick the eight marigolds I have left in the middle of the front yard, they are going in the ground tomorrow. Even if it's pouring rain AND thundering AND lightning ...

Today, I planted the perennials. I think I am the most excited about this cluster I planted today.

After trying to determine where I should put these plants, I called Mommy pitching a fit about how I really thought the tags that come with flowers should tell how tall they're going to get. I had remembered, last minute, that I knew what hollyhocks were, because they grow to be really, really tall. So, I examined the tag and nowhere did it say a height.

So, I examined the other tags from the other flowers, and still nothing. How could this be? Are you just supposed to magically know how tall these tiny plants are going to get?

I'm not sure what exactly made me turn the tag over and wipe away the dirt, but there it was. Plain as day -- the height range of each plant.

I arranged what I had among the myrtle already growing there, with the very tall hollyhocks in the back and the much shorter meadow sage in front. I am already imagining how they're going to fill out and how pretty they're going to look when they all start to bloom. There are going to be so many colors in this plot. This week sometime, I'll write out exactly what I planted in all these different beds, with pictures. I think it will be so interesting to see how they do and track their progress.

I got lucky today. The rain held off until almost the exact moment I was done for the day and ready to get going to work. It was lovely of it to rain for mostly the rest of the day. My plants all needed the water, especially after the Miracle Grow debacle.

Perhaps my reading skills are not what they used to be. Sunday, I decided to double check the amount of Miracle Grow I was putting in the gallon jug I've been using to water. I was certain I was just being extra cautious, because surely it said two of the big spoonfuls per gallon.

Not quite, actually.

It said you should use two tablespoons per standard 2-plus gallon watering can, and oh yeah, by the way, the big spoon in the package is 1 1/2 tablespoons. So, I was using at least twice as much as I was supposed to. So far, the consequences don't seem to be devastating. I was lucky it rained since then. Not a ton, but more than it has for awhile.

Tomorrow, I'll let you know where I put those marigolds. Mommy said it's good to put them around tomato plants because they repel some kind of bug, but as I mentioned yesterday, spacing around the tomatoes is at a premium. Hmmm ... maybe I'll put them just outside the garden by the tomatoes. That just might work.

Whatever I decide, I'm going to decide. Tomorrow. Then, all the planting will be done. Finally. Completely. Done.

Thrice As Long

Everything I plan takes three times as long as I think it's going to. No matter what it is.

The vegetables are in. They look really lovely, but like everything else, it took at least three times longer than I thought it would. I worked for hours and hours this weekend.

Since last posting, I went out yesterday to rake and clean up the plot. I got it all looking really nice, brought my vegetables over and realized that I have 48 plants. Figuring I should plant them all a foot apart, I started doing basic math and realized my 5- by 6-foot plot was simply not going to cut it.

So, I got the shovel back out and started digging again. I was just eyeballing it, but I dug about 2 more feet out from one side and another foot from the front and it looked like it was about 6-by-8. Just perfect for six rows of eight plants. (I love when math is THAT simple. Someday, I'll tell you about the more complex math that the router required.)

It's amazing how short a sentence can look -- oh, I just dug out a couple more feet here and a couple more feet there. But my back is telling me today exactly what hard work it is. I'm not sure if you can tell from the pictures how much bigger it got ...

So, once I got the extra footage cleared out, I set to planting. Here's how it goes:

First Row: 8 tomatoes
Second Row: 8 green beans
Third Row: 4 green peppers, 4 eggplants

Fourth Row: 4 yellow medium/hot peppers, 4 jalapenos
Fifth Row: 4 broccoli, 4 cauliflower
Sixth Row: 4 fancy lettuce, 4 buttercrunch lettuce.

I figured something out after rows 1 and 2: If you know how many rows you want, and you know how far apart, measure first. I don't mean with a yard stick, you can just eyeball it, but plot it out.

I didn't do this. My first two rows are very close together, and I'm nervous that they will crowd each other, but my garden guru friend D6 told me that those do well next to each other. She also gave me a bunch of new tips today:

• BROCCOLI: When the florets are ready, you can cut them off and the plant will continue to produce more. (I'm not entirely sure how this works, but I will ask more questions and document more as I go.)
• CAULIFLOWER: When the heads are grown, pull the leaves up around them and tie them off. This will keep them white and keep the bugs out.
• GREEN BEANS: NEVER PICK WHEN THEY ARE WET! She said they will rust, and the ones that you don't pick will rust, too.
• ONIONS AND CARROTS: D said to never plant these next to each other because the carrots will pick up the flavor of the onion.

You can probably guess why she's my gardening guru. She's full of helpful tips like this. There is a very neat surprise from D coming in an upcoming blog, but it's so very cool, I want to do the story justice and I am just far too tired tonight to tell it.

Again, because of the tiredness, I hope I got these tips right. I'll double check with her tomorrow and post any corrections I may find out then.

Though I said I was going to have the planting done yesterday, it's of course not. It's not even done today. I've got my full-sun perennials still, and not much full sun to put them in. However, I am clearing out a spot next to my house and I'll be putting those in tomorrow. Like everything else, it's taken me even more than thrice as long as I thought.

I have to admit, I thought I'd be able to do all this planting in a day. A long day, but a day nonetheless. It was a week today since I bought the plants, so I guess you could figure it actually -- given I finish tomorrow -- will have taken me EIGHT times as long. But, they've been an incredibly fun eight days.

Before the Rains Came

I'll admit, I was once a fan of violets.

They are so pretty and as spring begins to break they carpet the world, poking their happy purple faces out from their lush green leaves. They, along with crocuses, are one of the first tell-tale signs that winter is mostly over.

But don't be fooled. They are like a scourge across my yard. They are lovely and pretty and make for an excellent ground cover -- until you don't want them somewhere. Then, they infiltrate the soil with their spidery roots, which you will never find the end of.

The other bane of my existence is the honey locust tree. I say tree because there is one in the front yard, and it's lovely and provides excellent shade and has cute little white blossoms on it right now. But weren't locusts one of the plagues God rained down on the Egyptians?

Surely, my yard hasn't done anything like enslaving God's chosen people, so I don't understand how this plague came to spread it's monstrous destruction. If the tree in the front yard had kept to itself, I'd be glad to have it. However, this tree spread. And spread. And spread. And spread. Until every time I go to sink my shovel into the dirt, it hits one of the millions of roots running like some sort of plague-spreading interstate just underground.

Oh, and I forgot to mention, they have thorns.

I must have hundreds of these little saplings growing all over my yard. Last year, I tried to dig a bunch of them up and wound up looking like I'd tried to give one of my cats a bath. The trees attacked me, their roots nearly broke my back, and though I got what seemed like a ton of them out, there are several tons left.

For now, they provide a nice screen between my yard and the empty lot next to my house, which people walk through to get to the street behind.

So, as I began digging my much-anticipated vegetable garden today, these two beasts of Beelzebub reared their not-terribly-ugly heads, making my progress so much slower than I anticipated.

Before I started on the vegetable garden, I worked for quite awhile on another bed Uncles Keith and Pat built in the front yard. I didn't take a before picture of this one because it was too horrifying to document, but the picture above is after. I'm actually quite pleased with the outcome.

I planted some of the perennials I got on Monday. They all said sun to part-shade, so I hope they do OK. They're under the shade of (ahem) the honey locust tree, but I think the sun filters down fairly steadily. We'll see. I really hope they don't die.

I'd say the planting is about half way done, and one more day of solid work should see everything safely in the ground. I had hoped to finish today, but it started raining just in time for the Tigers to start playing, so I figured it was fate. Here's what I got done before the rain started:

It doesn't look like much, really, but it was incredibly hard work, especially with the honey locusts and violets getting involved. And actually, after the rain started, I dug up some more but I didn't take a picture because of the wetness going on outside.

Tomorrow, there's some raking to be done, and some further attempts to get the massive remnants of violets and those horrible, horrible trees out of there, and then planting -- my favorite!

Once everything is in, I'll take pictures of each plants and post them with their names so we can properly track how they are doing.

I had also hoped to fit my first cooking experiment in this weekend, but with the coliforms, I'm not ready to use any unnecessary dishes. In fact, tonight my dashing fellow bought a pizza, which we ate on paper plates. So, that solved that dilemma. Hopefully only one more day of boiling water to go!

Coliforms -- Not Colorforms

I was always an avid listener when Mommy would tell me about what things were like when she was a kid. In fact, I would sit rapt when anyone who was older would tell me about their childhood.

A favorite school assignment of mine was sometime in elementary school (surprisingly, I can't remember what grade). We had to interview members of our family for social studies, and we had to have one member from two or three different generations. The list of questions tended towards the "how much did bread cost" variety.

One of the best conversations I ever had with my grandma and grandpa was the result of that assignment.

In any case, I remember Mommy telling me about Colorforms and just like the other things Mommy talked about -- the paper dolls, the Easy Bake Oven and the hairpiece-wig-thingy -- I wanted some Colorforms. Also surprisingly, I can't remember if I ever got any.

Maybe the breach in my otherwise uncanny memory has to do with the fact that I just did dishes for 2 hours. Seriously.

It all dates back to 3:15 p.m., a mere 12 hours ago, when a fax came through at work. I was busily trying to do something or other when I heard my co-workers start buzzing. "Boil water notice ... boil water notice ... boil water notice."

Then, much to my delight, the notice was thrown on my desk with a hurried, "It's a city thing." Two quick notes about work. I'm the city editor, so the "it's a city thing" was an extremely valid reason for depositing the fax with me. The other tidbit about my life: I start at 3, so I'd only been there a very few minutes and was already staring blankly into the chasm of another high school graduation, set to begin at 7 p.m.

But I should have known. In fact I did, kind of. Breaking news on Fridays is like what they say about death -- it always comes in threes. So, I thought about my horrible last Friday, and wondered what would come of today. It didn't take long to find out.

So, I got on the horn (there's an olden time theme here, it's just yet to really release itself in full force) and started talking to the head of the water department. It seems there are coliforms in our water.

Now, I've already written plenty on this subject today, so I'm not going into the details. I'll just say, it seems a mechanical malfunction made the water main clean itself out, unleashing an unacceptable amount of bacteria into the water.

Unlike Colorforms, which are fun, coliforms can make you sick and make the Department of Natural Resources and Environment tell the city to issue a boil water notice.

I wish I could say that I was thinking of the repercussions of this event, wondering if anyone had suffered ill consequences -- literally. But, nothing that noble was taking place in my mind. All I could think about was the dishes.

There were loads of them.

They were piled like a filthy shipwreck in my kitchen sink.

You see, as I was weeding all week long, what I wasn't doing was my dishes. Or anything involving cleaning my house. This is not practical perfection-like behavior. But, I paid. Oh, did I ever pay.

I got home, looked at the dirty mountain, and decided there's no time like now. (I conveniently forgot that there was a time, much more like now, when the dishes first became dirty.) So, I set to boiling some water. And I boiled some more. And some more. And a whole ton more. It's amazing how much water fits in a sink and a little plastic bin-thingy. And it's amazing how hot water is after its been boiled.

(Now for the theme!) It was a lot like the olden days, doing my dishes in standing boiled water. At least that's what I told myself, to try to keep myself entertained as I spent 2 HOURS doing dishes. I also tried desperately to find any, ANY similarities between coliforms and Colorforms. But, as yet, I'm still at a loss.

On a happier note, the dishes are done and tomorrow I'm buying paper plates. Hopefully they won't be all sold out like the bottled water. In the meantime, here's the lesson for the day (and apparently it's one I have to keep learning over, and over, and over, and over ...): Do the dishes as soon as you're done using them.

This step simplifies life so very much. But, I'm quite sure I'm not the only one who hasn't fully figured this out yet. Tonight, though, I got several steps closer to graduating from that class.

Sidenote: I also realized tonight that there were clothes still in the washer from several (I refuse to say how many) days ago. To combat the smell AND the coliforms, I used bleach. We'll see how it turns out. I'm hoping OK, because my two favorite sweaters were in there.

COMING TOMORROW: I'm going to build the vegetable garden and plant all my plants. This is a picture of the site of the garden. I've seriously got my work cut out for me. ... I'm hoping I can get them all in the ground, because I worry about them out there in those little trays on my rotting picnic table. I'll report on the outcome.

Please Don't Show My Uncles

I literally have spent every available moment of daylight I've had for three straight days weeding.

Though this isn't the most fun I've ever had in my life, I do find weeding incredibly cathartic. Uprooting all the unwanted sprouts that shoot up and ruin our perfect picture kind of puts my mind at ease. However, it is really hard work.

I'm sure the fact that I worked for three days -- and this was just on the bed in the front and side of my house -- tells you something about how bad the weeds had gotten. Which makes me feel awful.

You see, the beds were a gift. Not the land itself. That obviously came with the mortgage. But the plants, and the labor that went into changing the difficult little strips of grass into a beautiful flower bed, were a gift from my Uncles Keith and Pat.

Last year, they visited for a Fourth of July family reunion spectacular, which was also an early surprise birthday party for Mommy. My uncles didn't come without a surprise for me, too, though.

Everyone had really been pulling for me to buy a house. I'd wanted to for years, and it was quite a struggle getting to the point where I could (I'll tell that story another time). So, upon arriving, they indulged me as I gave the tour of my brand-new first-home-ever. They oohed and ahhed in all the right places and nodded and added tips as I talked about what I hoped to do. Thinking back, and knowing Uncle Pat, I bet he was just a flurry inside the whole time, impatient to show me what was waiting outside.

They took me out to where their car was parked at the curb, to give me my housewarming gift. I couldn't imagine what it could be until they opened the trunk.

The entire thing was filled with plants.

As if that wasn't the dearest thing I've ever seen, Uncles Keith and Pat proceeded to spend hours -- of their vacation, mind you -- digging up the strips of grass, and building me my first-ever flower beds. And before I knew it, as many members of my family that would fit in those beds were clomping grass tufts together to shake the dirt off, laughing, shouting and having fun.

And Uncle Pat was spectacular in all his gardening glory.

The old adage about many hands -- well, in my family, it doesn't make light work. It makes a party. We have fun together, no matter what we're doing. And it very seldom is sitting still.

So, it was with shock, horror and a fair amount of embarrassment that I realized Monday I had a significant amount of work to do before I could give my beds, in which the hostas from Uncles are thriving, a bit of color in the form of Marigolds from Weesies. I hadn't been honoring the present I'd been given.

Three days later, the beds are weeded, the Marigolds are planted and my gift -- one of the very best I've ever received -- is looking absolutely lovely. And I'm feeling like a much more deserving niece.

A tip from Mommy on weeding: (Mommy hates weeding, so she tries to make it as quick and painless as possible.)
WATER FIRST. The weeds practically jump out into your hand.

Also, it's nearly impossible to just pull some weeds. A lot of them will just break right off, so use a trowel -- you know, the little shovel thing -- to loosen them up first. It makes a world of difference.