Mud soup

Last week was surreal.

When I set up a Wordpress blog I enter a trance that numbs my brain. Since accidentally deleting my old Wordpress blog twice, I've developed a healthy respect for Wordpress and its potential for inflicting cruelties. Hence, when I am in a Wordpress trance the world and its inhabitants dance around me as though in another dimension. It's frightening, actually, as I am a Mother and my children deserve and demand my undivided attention. Not to mention my Facebook friends. ;-)

But it's over. It's well and truly over.

I've missed writing. I haven't been able to think creatively as the Wordpress trance shifts my brain into left gear, and blocks off access to right gear, which is where I want and need to be.

My trusty and merciful Kodak camera helped me to capture some of the nuttiness dancing around me last week. Naturally, I couldn't wait to share it with you. :-D

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Joe has taken to clearing off the middle shelf of our pantry and climbing in. He shouts, "I'm safe! I'm safe!", which of course has me in a panic, wondering when and where and if he hasn't felt safe. Please note the Joe's O's. I found those at Trader Joe's. You should have seen me running around the store like an idiot grabbing every item labeled "Joe's". I was in a froth. I thought, "What a wonderful coincidence. Joe is going to love these." It wasn't until in the checkout like that I realized the connection between Trader Joe's and "Joe's".

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Lily 1.5 seconds before putting the smack down on her unsuspecting and doting brother. Joe was in "I'm the baby" mode. Apparently Lily wanted to be the baby that day. "Get out of my playpen, cretin!"

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Here is Miss Lilypie modeling a top I crocheted for her. I started this project about six months ago. After finally getting around to completing it last week, I was dismayed to discover that it barely fits her! Sigh. I'm going to have to get creative and turn it into a dress, kulats or Hammer Pants.

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While I was slithering around Lily on my belly trying to get a shot of her new top Joe was busying himself by littering the contents of her green laundry tub about the room. He finally had enough of the Lily photo snapping and put the tub over both of us. Yes, that's my big, fat freakazoid lip. Joe has a look of "Mission accomplished!"

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Lily admiring her precious little reflection in the mirror while I wonder if I'm going to be able to put the last two buttons on her top, or if that will render it uncomfortably tight.

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Joe and Lily amusing themselves in Lily's shoe and hat drawers. I was amazed and pleased to discover that the purple hat, a gift from Lily's Grandma, still fits her.

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I walked out front one day to find Grandma and Joe and Lily making mud soup. I was instantly transported back to the era of my youth. Oh, how I loved all things mud! I got a little carried away and brought out a massive bag of crutons to add to the soup which turned out to be a less than inspired decision ant-wise.
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Mmm... you know you want some!

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I made this hat a while back just to see if I could crochet a spiral pattern. I was trying it on Lily when Joe suddenly developed an interest in it. He walked around the house like that for about half an hour, inspiring me to videotape him. I'll refrain from publishing said video in to help stave off future teasing from guyville.

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All's well that ends watermelon. :)

Converting Blogger Blog to Custom Domain

Image by Nick Lawes via Flickr

Unless any of you can give me a compelling reason not to, I've decided to bite the bullet and combine my blogs. The idea is to convert Happymaking (http://happy-making.blogspot.com) into my custom domain (http://heatherkephart.com).

My blog will still be called "Happymaking". It will simply live at a new address that bears my name. The posts that currently exist at Textual Medium will (better!) remain. From what I understand there will be a re-direct, and I can transfer my RSS feeds so the move should have little impact.

Is this a really bad idea? Please tell me if it is. I don't want to alienate my beloved readers, or screw up my feeds and followers. I just don't have the time to run two blogs right now. Thank you. :)

Converting Blogger Blog to Custom Domain

[caption id="attachment_486" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Image Source: Nick Lawes, Flicker"][/caption]

Unless any of you can give me a compelling reason not to, I've decided to bite the bullet and combine my blogs. The idea is to convert Happymaking (http://happy-making.blogspot.com) into my custom domain (http://heatherkephart.com).

My blog will still be called "Happymaking". It will simply live at a new address that bears my name. The posts that currently exist at Textual Medium will (better!) remain. From what I understand there will be a re-direct, and I can transfer my RSS feeds so the move should have little impact.

Is this a really bad idea? Please tell me if it is. I don't want to alienate my beloved readers, or screw up my feeds and followers. I just don't have the time to run two blogs right now. Thank you. :)

Sunday morning brain freeze

Image by quinn.anya via Flickr

I can't write anymore.

Don't you hate it when you wake up before your brain does?

Brump Brump Brump Brump.

Perhaps I will look at some Avon stuff. I am almost out of bubble bath for the kids.

Brump Brump Brump. 

Maybe I should crochet some granny squares and sew them into the shape of underwear and market them as granny panties. But with all those holes they would hardly be practical. Or stretchy. Nobody wants to see a woman with granny panties around her ankles by the water cooler at work.

*Suckles pinky finger*

Or I could eat.

Oh no, I hear Dennis in the other room firmly asking Joe to, "Give me that!" I wonder what he's got? Sharpie? Disposable razor? Blow torch? Hmmm...

*Inspects fingernails*

I really need to clip them. Why do fingernails grow at different paces? The nail on my ring finger is shorter than the nail on my middle finger. I wonder if it's designed that way for a reason?

*Stretches and almost locks up back*

I want that Touch N Brush. That's a good idea. But it's $19.99 and I can expect to wait 2-6 weeks for delivery. Two to SIX weeks? Quite a spread. What's that all about? I wish I could say, "Your dinner will be ready in two to six hours."

*Picks at lip*

Perhaps I will hang some pictures today. I keep putting it off because I can't locate a laser picture hanging helper device like ever. Where do they go? We only have like fifty of them.

*Publishes post*

Sunday morning brain freeze

[caption id="attachment_514" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Image Source: Quinn.Anya via Flickr"][/caption]

I can't write anymore.

Don't you hate it when you wake up before your brain does?

Brump Brump Brump Brump.

Perhaps I will look at some Avon stuff. I am almost out of bubble bath for the kids.

Brump Brump Brump.

Maybe I should crochet some granny squares and sew them into the shape of underwear and market them as granny panties. But with all those holes they would hardly be practical. Or stretchy. Nobody wants to see a woman with granny panties around her ankles by the water cooler at work.

*Suckles pinky finger*

Or I could eat.

Oh no, I hear Dennis in the other room firmly asking Joe to, "Give me that!" I wonder what he's got? Sharpie? Disposable razor? Blow torch? Hmmm...

*Inspects fingernails*

I really need to clip them. Why do fingernails grow at different paces? The nail on my ring finger is shorter than the nail on my middle finger. I wonder if it's designed that way for a reason?

*Stretches and almost locks up back*

I want that Touch N Brush. That's a good idea. But it's $19.99 and I can expect to wait 2-6 weeks for delivery. Two to SIX weeks? Quite a spread. What's that all about? I wish I could say, "Your dinner will be ready in two to six hours."

*Picks at lip*

Perhaps I will hang some pictures today. I keep putting it off because I can't locate a laser picture hanging helper device like ever. Where do they go? We only have like fifty of them.

*Publishes post*

A Hair Affaire

Well folks, it seems we've turned another page of the tome that is my quest for a decent dye job.

At the salon on Monday:

What I Said: Hi! Please correct the unsightly off-center blob of white bird poop highlights on top of my head. I'd like to go brown. Maybe all brown. What do you think of that?

What Stylist Said: Hmm... I think you need some highlights to add dimension. *rakes fingernails through my hair*

What I Said: Okay then, but I want my hair to be mostly brown with a few subtle, natural looking highlights - and just on the top.

What Stylist Heard: I want you to make me look like Cruella De Vil.

I should have payed attention in the Earth to Hair Stylist communications course the college semester I turned 21, instead of pounding Keystone and dancing until even my toes were sweaty at Popeye's in Old Sacramento.

Regardless of who I turn to for coiffure 411, I always get the same assistance: ridiculousness. One hair genius even managed to deposit white spots all about my crown, effectively leoprifying me. That was the one and only time I called back, hemmed, hawed, coughed, gurgled and eventually managed to choke out a correction request.

I've been to the Aveda Salon in Palm Springs, a fancy place in the back room of a florist shop in Downtown Sacramento, SuperCuts, StupidCuts, the office of a Chinese deli in San Francisco, and a place I saw advertised on tv that promised to make me look like a rock star. Not just my hair, me.

Do I look like a rock star yet?

A Hair Affaire

Well folks, it seems we've turned another page of the tome that is my quest for a decent dye job.

At the salon on Monday:

What I Said: Hi! Please correct the unsightly off-center blob of white bird poop highlights on top of my head. I'd like to go brown. Maybe all brown. What do you think of that?

What Stylist Said: Hmm... I think you need some highlights to add dimension. *rakes fingernails through my hair*

What I Said: Okay then, but I want my hair to be mostly brown with a few subtle, natural looking highlights - and just on the top.

What Stylist Heard: I want you to make me look like Cruella De Vil.

I should have payed attention in the Earth to Hair Stylist communications course the college semester I turned 21, instead of pounding Keystone and dancing until even my toes were sweaty at Popeye's in Old Sacramento.

Regardless of who I turn to for coiffure 411, I always get the same assistance: ridiculousness. One hair genius even managed to deposit white spots all about my crown, effectively leoprifying me. That was the one and only time I called back, hemmed, hawed, coughed, gurgled and eventually managed to choke out a correction request.

I've been to the Aveda Salon in Palm Springs, a fancy place in the back room of a florist shop in Downtown Sacramento, SuperCuts, StupidCuts, the office of a Chinese deli in San Francisco, and a place I saw advertised on tv that promised to make me look like a rock star. Not just my hair, me.

Do I look like a rock star yet?