on friendship . . .

Thanks, Kelli.  Love you too!!!!

sometimes life doesn't turn out to be a bowl if cherries . . .

I am dangerous.  I started off wanting to make another tote similar to the very first one I made but a little larger.  Then I started thinking how much I would like it if it only had one shoulder strap and looked more like a hobo bag.  But I still wanted it reversible. made of canvas, and summery. 

So I called Joanie and dragged her off to Jo-Ann Fabrics to look for canvas.  When my nose failed to ferret out the stuff, I asked one of the clerks, who graciously showed me the entire back wall of canvas . . . 50% off.  Swoon.  After much to-do, I settled on a blue, yellow and white floral pattern with a complementary blue, yellow and white striped fabric and headed home to my sewing nook. 

I was working essentially off this pattern, which meant I had to create my own from scratch.  Call in the troops . . .  the 9TS obligingly helped with the angles and corners.  Good man that 9TS.  My first boo boo was that my fabric was not tall enough for the pattern and I hadn't bought enough to lay it the other way.  Sound familiar.  I do it every time. 

 No problem, I would just lay the bottom on the fold rather than cut a seam I was just going to stitch up anyway and get my extra 5/8" fabric back!!!  I am so smart.  Until I read on and really, I needed a gap in the lining from which to reverse the entire tote.  Back to cutting and feeling slightly more than dense. 

Everything was progressing fairly well until, even though I had carefully laid out the pattern on the striped fabric so the stripes would match, they did not.  I swear, an entire 3/8th of an inch of fabric yelled, "Up boys, scooch over a little and make her crazy." and they did.  Sigh,

So now I know, this is not going to be a reversible bag . . . not that the instructions ever claimed it would be.  And still the fabric was in revolt . . . which it tends to do after being sliced and diced, pinned and poked . . . not that I blame it.   I inserted, what would be the loop closure over a button, in between the lining and the outside, I was so careful to line everything up.  But the troops were on a roll and as soon as I looked away, their friends the pins, each moved a little off center.   The result is a mismatched closure.  No fear. I will tell people it is a creative decoration . . .

And so, it is completed.  Not quite as anticipated but bright and summery and happy go lucky.  YAY!!!!

or why i craft . . .

when we were in Antigua, we wandered out of the main shopping district to get more of a flavor for the town.  On the fringe, we found a tiny dress shop run by an older woman.  I was intrigued by a two piece pants/loose top outfit and tried it on.  As a one size fits all, it fit very well.  Comfy, islandy. cool.  I inspected the garment, looking for fabric content and washing instructions and found none.  I asked the woman if she had made it and she nodded her assent with a shy smile.  At less than $30 I knew it was going home with me.

Now as I am oft to do, I have worn the top several times but had yet to wear the bottoms.  When I pulled them out earlier in the week to check them out, to my surprise, I realized they had horrible bleach stains on one leg.

Since I hadn't worn them yet, let alone put them anywhere near the laundry room, they must have come that way and I had not noticed.  I weighed my options.  Since $27 was not a lot of money, I could just cut my losses and enjoy my top or I could shorten the pants and make them more capri like or . . . I could enlist the help of my black Slick Writer . . .  a permanent pen made for writing on all sorts of slick surfaces such as plastic, metal, etc.   And so I went to work . . .

While not perfect, I doubt if anyone is going to be down on their hands and knees inspecting the inside hem of my pant leg.  At least I hope not.

Just another reason for why I craft.  Snort!!!!

cheers . . .

there is something uber good about Tuesdays.  an hour and a half of really relaxing yoga, followed by lunch with good friends and then a solid two hour nap.  does it get any better? and then I started to think.  no, it really doesn't.

yoga is good for the soul.  good for the body.  good for what ails you.  it stretches and relaxes, calms and maintains, feeds and restores.  if you haven't tried it, please do.  it keeps me sane and any thing that can do that is . . . trust me . . . worth its weight in gold.

and never, I mean NEVER, underestimate the value of women.  other women ROCK.  they've been there, done that and can relate.  they raise you up.  they support you.  you can't make it through life without the power of friendship.  truly.

good food.  what can I say.  we walk into our favorite place and out come our drinks.  without the presence of a menu, our meals are served.  they know what we want.  they know how we like it.  they do it so well. 

Home for a nap.  relaxed.  content.  comfortable.  at peace.  the world it good.

so make time for yourself.  find something that takes you to a good place.  share it with friends.  cultivate it.  sleep on it.

You'll be so glad you did.

p.s.  this post was brought to you from the pool deck and a glass of cabernet.  Cheers!

cha-ching . . .

like most women, I love a good bargain.

I had seen this top in the Coldwater Creek catalog and was drooling:

the posted reviews were pretty good.  So after lunch, we headed to the store to check it out.

and then there was this necklace . . . .

 oh boy, I was in trouble. Total cost:  $109.91.  Ouch!!!

Until I discovered they were having a 30% store wide sale.  And then I started whipping out cards.  A coupon for the necklace . . . free with purchase.  A $20 off coupon.  A 5% discount with my club card. Total price:  $22.22 including tax.  YAY!!!!! 

It was a very good day!!!

today and tomorrow . . .

today:

deviled eggs made . . . check
Honey Baked ham picked up . . . check
Granny Smith apples sitting on the counter . . . check
vanilla ice cream . . .  cooling in the freezer
corn on the cob . . . ready to husk
Easter basket goodies . . . gathered

tomorrow:

potato salad to make
apple crisp to concoct
rolls to bake
family to enjoy

a blessed Easter to you all!

this post is brought to you poolside at the cave.  ok, my laptop doesn't take great shots but the wine is cold, the breeze is blowing and we are happy campers!!!!

bliss . . .

the three times a year, no good, horrible, nasty job . . .  is half done.  tomorrow this time i will be gently rocking poolside, sipping mint juleps, languidly waving a fan, whilst ensconced under a parasol, eating cucumber sandwiches . . .

oh snap.  that's not my life.  sigh. 

but, all of the furniture has been bleached and scrubbed, the toys got a bath too.  As soon as the 9TS comes back with the industrial bleach, the deck itself gets scrubbed. 

and then I move in.  book in hand floating around and around.  it's my favorite summer spot.  come on in, the water's fine.

a very good day . . .

Yesterday we went to an art show just south of us.  Lots of booths with all sorts of goodies.   I love going to this tiny town.  They have the most beautiful municipal complex.  Someone had the foresight to buy up lots of land including a small lake and create gorgeous tree lined streets along with the police department, city hall, entertainment arena and town library.   The show ringed the perimeter of the lake and was mostly shaded.  Perfecto!  Did I take a picture of all this loveliness?  Sadly no. Did I even bring my camera?  Yes.  Still shaking my perplexed little head over that one.

But I did manage to take some shots.  Just not of the art show.  I was fascinated by this guy who had no fear of humans:

 look at this guy.  Isn't he gorgeous??!?!?!?

 Then I spotted these little fellows dead center in the lake.  Even with my doubler on, they are pretty far away and well, frankly . . . blurry:

but as we followed the trail of booths around the lake, they popped up again.  This time closer.

 

And, I managed to make it through the hundred or so exhibits without spending a sou.  Well, except for the hot dogs we managed to scoff up.  How can you go to an outdoor art show and ignore the food vendors?????

Chalk another one up for . . .  it's a very good day.

I'm just saying . . .

The Cave . . . ah . . .

Love this . . . thanx Mumford & Sons!

wen is enough . . .

This shouldn't happen to me.  But it did.  I woke up this morning with a huge honking pimple on my nose.  A ZIT!!!!!   At my age.  Where is the fairness in all this?  Was it not bad enough that I had to endure acne as a teenager?  Was that not enough torture?  Well to be utterly truthful, I didn't have acne all that badly except during the first trimester of my pregnancy but let's not count that disaster . . .  out of control hormones are another story.

But every time something monumental would happen, my face would sprout a doozie.  Picture day.  Exams.  My sister's wedding.  Valentine's Day.  Prom. Spring Fling.  Every other Wednesday.  The third Tuesday of each month.  Whenever the moon rose.  You get the idea,  I was the one who always had just one blazing zit.  Mount Vesuvius.   No sooner it would clear and another would pop up to say hello. 

I remember vividly being on an Air Berlin flight home from Germany and one of the owners of a rival hotel looked at me with pity and said,  “Jeanne, I don’t understand it.  You had beautiful skin yesterday and today you have THAT.” . . .   as if I really needed her to point out the carbuncle that has appeared mid flight.  Thank you Mrs. Madorsky.  Thank.you.very.much.

Finally, in my 30's I went to a dermatologist who diagnosed me with not one, but two types of cystic acne . . .  lucky me.  Medicine was my new best friend.  Truthfully, it wasn't until I had my guts ripped out hysterectomy that my acne disappeared.  What a blessed relief.  I no longer ran to the mirror first thing in the morning to see what part of my face had exploded during the night. 

Rare is the day that my complexion isn’t clear.  Isn’t that a perk of old age?   So what did I do to anger the acne fairy?  Did I look wistfully at the junior section at Macy’s.  Did I covet her chocolate bar?  Who knows what the offense was.  Maybe she just decided I needed one more reminder of my salad days.   And actually, that’s not a bad idea . . . just minus the wen on my nose next time . . . please.

it was a good day . . .

Earlier in the week, Joanie and I planned a trip up to Washington Oaks State Park. It sits between the Atlantic and the Inter-coastal waterway. First stop . . . the Rocks. I've posted shots from here before, so I'm going to cut you all a break and only add one more. It was low tide, so not much going on in the tidal pools . . . go ahead and click on it to enlarge . . . you know you want to:

we walked along the rocks for a bit, explored here and there, poked around a little and finally headed to the Gardens on the other side of A1A.

Roses were in bloom as evidenced here:

and there were hungry critters:

and critters trying to stay cool:

and critters who liked mud:

and slightly squirrely critters:

and then I discovered I have a latent fascination for chairs:

and more chairs:

and still more chairs:

can you stand just one more:

OK, I lied, here's another:

Everyone knows that after taking a whole slew of shots just to get one or two you aren't afraid to post . . . but should . . . you can't help but work up an appetite.

We headed to Flagler to check out the Taco Store . . . Robin having mentioned it during our last outing to the Flagler Fish Company . . . and of course we couldn't find it. One quick phone call later and Robin had us on the door step of this neat little shack with outdoor tables and yummy food that looked a lot like this on the outside:

and this on the inside:

so we sat under this:

and noshed away . . . except mine had meat since I felt a little carnivore-ish today. And then . . . no shots needed . . . we wandered across the street to the ice cream store and pigged out some more.
Finally, we happily aimed the car home . . . where I promptly crashed and burned in utter gastronomical delight . . .

cat nappers and considerations . . .

things have finally calmed down around here. One would wonder why being rejected from the IL-2 regime would be so devastating considering how toxic it is, but you need to understand the nature of the beast. The 9TS is an amazing man. Hit with devastating news, he goes deep within himself and wrestles the facts. When he is done, so is all the trepidation. He has made up his mind and has come to terms . . . and this is where he was with the IL-2 treatment. So to have that option ripped from him, threw us both into limbo. Another wait. Another coming to terms. But it is better now. We are chugging along again on all four cylinders.

On a different note, the Kidlet came down from school this afternoon for an appointment and we managed to squeeze in a late lunch at Panera's before heading back to the house. She first arrived in the loft carrying Pippin and quietly discussing with her the option of moving in with her at her apartment. We nixed that idea. Next she appeared carrying Bear . . . who overflowed from her arms in all directions. She was sweetly asking him if he would like to move in with her. Again, the idea was vetoed. Like Goldilocks, she marched back in with Ninja, cuddled in her arms. Same conversation. Same resounding no. She left shortly thereafter, but not before we checked her backpack for occupants . . .

the other side of Virgin Gorda . . .

Credits: Template and elements: Anna Aspnes, Paper: Katie Pertiet

day 3, virgin gorda . . .

OK, we are chugging right along here on my album. This will be the left hand side of the Virgin Gorda, two page spread . . .

credits: Anna Aspnes: template and elements, Katie Pertiet: paper.

day 1, at sea . . .

Credits: Template and Stitches: Anna Aspnes, Buttons: Roben-Marie Smith & Vinnie Pearce.

Day two, at sea . . .

Credits: Template: Tiffany Tillman, Papers: Katie Pertiet, Brads, Wave and Fish: Julia Makontinsky, Date Stamp: Dawn Inskip.

insanity . . .

it's sort of like Easter. Everyday I go to the litter box and hunt for eggs and jelly beans. I'm just saying . . .

yippie ky ai . . .

let us off this rootin' tootin' rodeo!!!

Dr. K. and the Moffitt team have determined that the IL-2 would be too stressful on the 9TS's body. It has been nixed. Shuffle those cards boys, the plans have now been changed.

The good news is that last Friday, IPI was finally approved by the FDA . . . meaning it works. The bad news is that since it is no longer a trial drug, it will take a little time for the insurance companies to gather their wagons and decide to cover it . . . the drug companies have been flipping the bill up until now. Dr. K. says the 9TS is in no danger while this is happening.

So, we are on hold for a couple more weeks until they round up the strays and we mosey on back to Moffitt.

Peace out cow girls.

a glorious afternoon . . .

this morning, having discovered that the heart group had not in fact, faxed the results of the 9TS's stress test to Moffitt, I decided a visit was needed. They were very pleasant about giving us a copy but then the snag seemed to be that it is Moffitt's policy not to give out email addy's. I begged and pleaded and whined and it worked. Soon after, I scanned and emailed the information, I received confirmation that Moffitt not only got my email but finally, a fax from the heart group. YAY!!! Mission accomplished. Hoop one completed. Now we need for them to clear the 9TS (hoop 2) and for our insurance to OK him for the procedure (hoop 3) and easy peasy we are ready to go.

And so, with this in mind, we scoured the neighborhood for p.j. sets for the 9TS. This is one of the reasons that I long ago sneaked into the 9TS's computer and deleted his link to my blog . . . he is not particularly happy when I chat about things like why he doesn't own one single p.j. set. But the answer is simple, he doesn't need them. I'll let you draw your own conclusions.

But, here was the problem. Dillard's and Macy's carry men's p.j. sets . . . about $68 per top or bottom. I'm thinking $136 is a bit pricey for a hospital stay especially considering we need seven sets. GAH! So we decided to try elsewhere. Target was a no . . . I guess I should mention that they have to have buttons/snaps or a zipper down the front, as pullovers won't function with a PICC line. Kohl's was another no. After a little more searching, we found ourselves in Belk's. Bingo. $36.00 per set, plus 30% off. Ding. Ding. Ding. The 9TS will be sporting fashionable duds at Moffitt.

After trekking around town, and stopping for lunch so the sloth could eat prior to his four hour required fast for his CT scan this afternoon, we decided a nap would be oh so decadent and delightful.

He ensconced himself in the blue lounger, covered by the afghan a client had made me back in the day before retirement and was soon softly snoring away. I decide to make camp on the bed tucked under the flap of the quilt. I quickly had the company of three snoring beasties and in short time, the cacophonous-ness of my cold ridden nose, joined in the choir and the roof top raised ever so slightly in tribute to Morpheus.

Such afternoons are glorious bits of heaven. I am convinced that if practiced the world over, this earth would be a little finer place to be.

ICK . . .

we got home from the 9TS's endoscopy and I headed upstairs to feed the beasties. I don't know what made me look around the loft but when I did, I screamed. Shrieked really. Hollered for the sloth. Carried on something fearful.

Who, but this guy, was looking in the window at me:

he was walking around on the cage to our pool. Now, that's a face only a mother could love.

They are carrions. I hope he wasn't looking for a little cat canape!!!!

As soon as I took a couple of shots, I opened the window and yelled bloody murder. He sauntered off, opened his wings, and took off for parts unknown.

10 reasons to go back to bed . . .

1. I swung my feet out of bed this morning and landed in cat yak, compliments of Bear.
2. I have run out of Kleenex.
3. My neighbors were blaring music at 6:25 and have finally stopped.
4. We are on a water boil and I had to trudge downstairs for water.
5. My cold is at the never ending hacking stage.
6. The sky is falling.
7. I want a do over.
8. I have no choice but to prep my taxes today.
9. I read a blog that says never whine on your blog

10. It's my blog and I'll whine if I want to.

he passed and other things . . .

with flying colors!!! The doctor was amazed. My old sloth has the stuff!!!!


and dorkism #3746

Joanie and I went to get my second ever pedicure. So I figured this time, I would be an old hand at this most wondrous phenomenon. And I was. I settled into my comfortable chair and played with all the buttons, I relaxed with my feet in the water watching the different colored lights flash back and forth, I moved my feet when he needed them moved, I barely flinched when he tickled the heck out of my feet with the loofah brush, I kept my tootsies calm as he painted each one . . . Vodka and Caviar . . . I sighed appreciatively when he threw on the hot towel, and I shuffled over to the drying station without scuffing my new paint. And there is where I got into trouble. The drying station has a place for your hands. Check. And then there is a shelf and then there is the floor. So I happily propped my feet on the shelf . . . until the little girl came over and motioned for me to put them under the lights . . . UNDER the shelf. GAH!

So of course she had to tell the guy who did my feet and they giggled . . . and giggled. And they were right. I am a dork. With an audience. Oh, why can't I do these things alone, at home, in the cave?

Oh yeah, I do. I just don't tell you.