Gotta come up with a nifty tagline ;-)
I’ve been working on this project (on and off) for months now, and I finally finished it! I’m so excited to get to share it with y’all 😀
Ignore the racks of clothes – I was in Dressbarn and took advantage of the full-length mirrors 🙂
I cannot share the pattern as it’s from this book:
And this is what their jacket looks like:
Openwork Jacket
Since it will be 4 more years before I have another chance to blog about it, I’d like give mention to this Leap Day of 2012. I didn’t do anything out-of-the ordinary; it was just another “normal” day for me. How ’bout y’all?
I’ve fallen in love with Pinterest. It’s even more addictive than Facebook! There’s always something new and wonderful, no matter what your hobby, fashion style, architectural preference, etc. But this blog post is about something more specific. In particular, two different “how to” hairstyle pins that I’ve tried, and am now comparing for all to see. Hope this helps you on your no-heat curl journey 🙂
Click on the links below to see the blog-pages I found on Pinterest. Note – I don’t  use hairspray or gel. I do wet my ends with spray-in/leave-in conditioner before putting in the sock bun or the headband.
And now, a pictorial comparison of sock bun curls (I don’t need a bobby pin) and  headband curls (watch the tutorial video!):
I just have to share this with y’all. I’ve stumbled on the absolute easiest way to hard-boil an egg. EVER!
See, all you do is steam the eggs for 15 minutes – from when the water starts boiling – instead of boiling them. And when they’re cool enough to handle (I sped this bit up by placing the eggs in cool water), you start peeling them. I peeled 6 eggs in less than 5 minutes! And not a nick, not a scratch, was to be found!
I don’t know about you, but I’ve never perfectly peeled one hard-boiled egg, much less six. I’ve even read that this works on fresh-from-the chicken eggs, which are notoriously the hardest to peel.
(You’re welcome 😀 )
Edited to add pictures, and to note that I peeled 10 eggs (didn’t look at the clock until I’d already peeled 2) in 5 minutes. Also, using this method, you can cook more than a single layer. My steamer only holds 8 eggs in one layer, and I decided to try this because I got tired of cooking two batches.
Howdy, y’all! In looking back over last year’s entries, I realized I didn’t blog very much, and when I did, it was largely negative. I plan to change that 🙂
I’ve been doing more research on sustainable living, and I have discovered earthbags! I think for hot, humid south Georgia, this will be a much better medium than bale-cob with which to build my home. Better adapted for the humidity, and I don’t think acquiring used feed bags will be a problem! I’ve seen a couple sites where people built a raised-bed planter as the first project, like this one, or this. The 2nd one is more true to the purpose of what I want – a garden to grow vegetables in 🙂
Wow, this is gonna be harder to write than I thought; I thought it would be therapeutic to put it in writing. Ok, just get started.
This is titled “Burial of a Dream” and not “Death of a Dream” for a reason – there is a difference. The dream died a long time ago. It’s part of why I started this blog – to put emphasis on the new dream. On me wanting to live more God-sufficiently, both in a “self”-sufficient lifestyle and in a stronger relationship with my Savior, my Creator, the Lover of my Soul. The new dream is not dead, not by a long-shot; it just can’t happen yet, part 1 at least. Part 2 will be a work-in-progress until the day I die.
No, I realized over Christmas that while the old dream was very, very dead, I hadn’t yet buried it, so it – and I – could rest in peace.
See, for Christmas, we visited my sister. And she and her husband are stationed at the same military post my (soon-to-be) ex is stationed at. That I was going to be stationed at with him, as a proudly supportive military wife. The same military installation I’d done all the research on, figuring out what was where, looking into churches to visit, seeing what avenues were available for making new friends for myself and my son, activities to involve my son in, what neighborhood would be best for him to be at the best school, etc, etc, ad nauseum. And that dream died nearly 3 years ago.
Yes, I made the conscious decision NOT to follow him there, when my eyes were opened to just how wrong everything was, and it wasn’t something I could fix by myself or ignore once the truth was brought to light, but it hurt to not only realize that my marriage was over, but that my dream of moving far, far away was not going to happen.
After awhile, I got used to being “back home.” To being back with old friends, and making new ones in this little-bitty town I grew up in. To the idea that I was no longer a “proud military wife.” But it was when I visited my sister, and she was driving us around “The Great Place” that I realized it still hurt. IÂ was supposed to have been then before her. IÂ was supposed to have been the one showing her around. And that’s when I realized that I’d known a long while that my dream was dead, but I hadn’t buried it yet. I was still holding on to it.
I know, it’s crazy. I mean, I wouldn’t have this new dream if the old one wasn’t gone, right? Wrong! It’s like when a family member or friend dies, and you miss them, but then you have the funeral – to “make it real” that they’re gone. It took going out there to “make it real” to me that I wasn’t going to move out there, that yes, my sister is living what was once my dream, but also because it’s supposed to be hers, and was never meant to be mine.
But that wonderful trip to my sister’s showed me something else, too. I am right where I’m supposed to be – right where God wants me to be. In a little, bitty town with one red-light, where the “Good Ol’ Boy” system (for better and for worse) is still in full swing, where I work at the General Store, and can dream of owning goats, and chickens, and producing a good quantity of my own food. Because this is my life, my dream, my reality. And God has directed every step 🙂
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 1,300 times in 2011. If it were a cable car, it would take about 22 trips to carry that many people.
Why is this SO hard to deal with? You think you’ve forgiven somebody for something, and then wham-o, God brings to mind another issue, or a spin-off of the same one back to the forefront that still needs to be dealt with. AARGH!!!
I’m fairly certain I’ve forgiven the main issue. It doesn’t bother me on a daily basis like it used to, and I’m not having to constantly bring it before God’s throne, begging “Help me forgive!” A couple other things (that don’t need to be mentioned here) have recently reared their ugly little heads, and I realize I’ve got to daily, hourly, do whatever it takes to get them forgiven. (70 x 7 – yes, I know it’s really a figurative number that represents infinity.)
But how do I forgive a daily, ongoing offense? I’m asking this seriously, and sincerely. It breaks my heart every day to see my son want some attention from his dad, yet this is the same child – who at the age of 9 – comes home from 2 weeks with his dad this summer and says “I don’t think Daddy loves me.”
Stop! Go back, and re-read that last underlined sentence. May it break your heart as much as it still breaks mine.
Even at 9 (now 10) years old he instinctively knows that actions speak louder than words. How do you respond to that? How do you handle that? How do you forgive that? (He’s also figured out that Dad is the Dad of “ask and ye shall receive” and is looking forward to the PS3 he’s been promised for Christmas. *sigh* But that’s another matter.)
How do I forgive this man every day when he pays no attention whatsoever to our child. He calls twice a year – birthday and Christmas, and actually sent a birthday gift this year because I texted him and reminded him of the upcoming occasion and what would be appreciated. If Teddy’s lucky, there might be another couple of phone calls interspersed.
How do I forgive every day when I see my son struggle watching other fathers and sons, and knowing he wishes he had that bond?
How do I forgive every time when my own son tells me I need to sign up for ChristianMingle.com because he wants a Daddy? (No, I haven’t – thought about it, but haven’t, ONLY because the divorce isn’t legal yet.)
How do I forgive when my son says to my, “I don’t want you and Daddy to get a divorce, but I like not having to listen to the yelling all the time, not being yelled at all the time, and I know I can’t have another Daddy until you are divorced.”?
How do I forgive when it’s my sister’s husband (God Bless You Uncle Jason!!!) who’s actually shown my son what a father’s love is really supposed to be like, feel like, act like, look like?
How do I forgive when it’s currently the men in church –Â AWANA leaders, the Pastor, his Sunday School teacher, etc, who are stepping in to fill that void as best they can around their own family schedules?
If nothing else, please pray for me regarding this. I’m currently going through “Choosing Forgiveness” by Nancy Leigh DeMoss, and that has helped in many ways. If you have any Biblical based advice, please feel free to share it in the comments section. I just know this is eating me up inside, and that’s wrong. I don’t know how to break free of this.
Today, for just a few minutes, can I please relinquish my grown-up status, and revert back to insecure kid for just a little while? I’m tired of acting like I’ve got everything handled and together, when inside, I feel like curling up in a ball and just want somebody to hold me while I cry.
And while I’ve felt God’s love, I’ve felt His strength, I’ve never – in all my almost 34 years –Â felt truly held by Him (as referenced in so many Christian songs, for instance Natalie Grant’s “Held” or Tenth Avenue North’s “Over and Underneath”).
My back doctor (not in so many words) told me today I’m gonna hafta “grin and bear it” because my x-rays look beautiful and the bone is growing in wonderfully. Just keep taking pain management measures because it’s a “mechanical” issue and not a structural one – meaning continue to build up muscle strength around the area. It didn’t seem to matter that I told him physical therapy isn’t helping – at all. GRRRR! So I get to go back in a month.
So instead of relinquishing grown-up status, I get to be Mommy, and help with homework, and pretend everything is all right, and figure out why the new 3DS isn’t working, and do all this with a headache and a backache, and wish I could feel God holding me.
Now on to why I’m up so late tonight – but at least it’s still tonight, and not tomorrow morning!
How much longer do I have to listen to my son ask me “Mama, when will you get me a new Daddy?” Yes, he understands that we are not divorced yet, and like any child, does not want that fate to befall his parents. I believe he also understands that – short of a miracle, it will happen. He knows there is such a wide gap in what I believe, and am teaching him to believe, and what his dad believes (or rather, doesn’t believe in). Because he wants a Daddy that he knows cares about him, all the time, everyday, not just when he (Teddy) is physically present.
How long must I watch him be disappointed? How long must my heart break for my child? He, like any son, has absolute love in his heart for his father. I cannot blame him for that – it’s the way God hard-wired him. But it breaks my heart to see him disappointed over and over again – when the phone doesn’t ring (not that it was scheduled to), when he doesn’t have an e-mail from his dad in response to one he sent, or one that wasn’t sent “just because.”
I was open and allowed him to spend 2 weeks – 2 whole weeks with his dad this summer. I put him on a plane all by himself (he did just great, just like I knew he would), and he had a grand time. They saw the sights, they sat and watched TV, and played video games – things fathers and sons do together. And he hasn’t bothered contacting his son ONCE, not one single solitary time in the almost 2 months he’s been back home. Of course, what should I expect from the man who calls his son on Christmas, and only talked to him again end of Feb/first of March b/c Teddy was pitching an “I WANT MY DADDY” fit, so I whipped out my cell, scrolled down to the number, hit send, and handed him the phone. And that was the last he talked to him until Teddy went out to see him.
The men in our church have stepped up as much as they can to help out; but they do have their own families to raise. My wonderful Christian boss I mentioned in the previous post is setting an example, too, and helping out where he can. But this child needs someone on a near day-in-day-out basis, someone to talk too, play ball with, go fishing with, go hunting with, learn how to be a guy – ‘cuz God knows I have no clue! (Uncle Jason – we miss you dearly!)
My prayer is that God will please send a father-figure into Teddy’s life for the here and now. I’m having a hard enough time being Mom; I definitely don’t know how to be Dad, too!
March 2, 2012
bethanial11
Pursuing Life 