I totally forgot about it.
Friday, June 7, 2013
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Mobile.
Hey! There's an app for this. Now I can not update from an additional device. I <3 my Droid.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Casa Del Rio to Sublime, or how I made ugly thrift store chairs into works of beauty.
I bought my dining room table about 10 years ago. I didn't have children, or money. It was a small table with 4 chairs and I think I paid about $100. Quite a bargain! Over the course of the years the veneer chipped, bubbled and warped. The top of the table was uneven, stained and pretty unappealing. Also, I have two kids now. The smaller table wasn't working well for crafts, dinner and everything else that dining tables are used for. So I packed up hubby and monsters and headed to Lowe's where I found a very large piece of wood and some nice stain. I removed the old, ugly table top and screwed on the now stained wood. In no time I had a super-sized table!
But the chairs. They were falling apart. Literally. Pieces would break off, screws would fall out and I had to reattach the seats constantly. This poor table. I should just put it out of its misery and send it to the dump, but the thought of shopping for a new table does not fill my heart with glee. Instead I keep replacing, recovering and refinishing. I have twice before recovered the chairs and I think I have replaced every screw at least once in all 4 chairs. Through all that, I was now left with one original chair. I had this great plan to get 5 more chairs, all of various design, and recover them all with the same fabric, possibly even paint them. It would look eclectic and cute (I hoped).
Before I could find even one chair I wanted to refinish, let alone 5, the lone hold out from the original 4 dies. No chairs. My dining table has no chairs. How did this happen?! So I grabbed my younger brother and we set off to scour thrift stores in search of 6 similar, yet different chairs that I would then make look fabulous. We walked into the first thrift store and found 5 of these.
Hideous purple things that look like they belong on the patio of a Mexican restaurant where you pour your own soda. But I saw potential! And at just $5 a piece I was willing to give them a chance.
I removed the seat with a screw driver and laid it on some fabric like so:
Cut the fabric, making sure I had plenty to wrap all the around and simply starting stapling. I used a Stanley t100 staple gun, just $15 at WalMart. The fabric I had from previous projects, but I didn't have quite enough for all 5 so I had to use coordinating fabric on 2 chairs. Maybe not the eclectic look I had originally envisioned but I now have seating for 5 and what amounts to a whole new dining set for a grand total of: $50
But the chairs. They were falling apart. Literally. Pieces would break off, screws would fall out and I had to reattach the seats constantly. This poor table. I should just put it out of its misery and send it to the dump, but the thought of shopping for a new table does not fill my heart with glee. Instead I keep replacing, recovering and refinishing. I have twice before recovered the chairs and I think I have replaced every screw at least once in all 4 chairs. Through all that, I was now left with one original chair. I had this great plan to get 5 more chairs, all of various design, and recover them all with the same fabric, possibly even paint them. It would look eclectic and cute (I hoped).
Before I could find even one chair I wanted to refinish, let alone 5, the lone hold out from the original 4 dies. No chairs. My dining table has no chairs. How did this happen?! So I grabbed my younger brother and we set off to scour thrift stores in search of 6 similar, yet different chairs that I would then make look fabulous. We walked into the first thrift store and found 5 of these.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
The problem with Pandora
Is that you're happily singing along, hearing some great new artist the BAM! Out of no where, a song so painful that you had literally forgotten it existed. And there is no fast forward.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Sunday, July 31, 2011
never lean on what will bend has become my newest life mantra.
I am really kinda digging how my entire front page is nothing but music that likely fits my current mood. This is how I felt once upon a time and reliving it is a cathartic bittersweet revelry. And The Twins. They are rarely as as show-stopping as in this song.
You've drawn heavy handed lines around morality and I don't share your point of view.
It hurts to be the one that you'd regret.
I am proud because I know you.
You may not miss this. But I will.
It hurts to be the one that you'd regret.
You've drawn heavy handed lines around morality and I don't share your point of view.
It hurts to be the one that you'd regret.
I am proud because I know you.
You may not miss this. But I will.
It hurts to be the one that you'd regret.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Trevor!
I met Trevor.
My tiny hero.
The little man that survived a horrific car crash and and what was likely to be a fatal traumatic brain injury. Somehow Trevor can take everything in my life and show me the other end of it all. Like a telescope turned around Trevor can show me how the microchasms of everyday life mean nothing when compared to the scope of our world.
My tiny hero.
The little man that survived a horrific car crash and and what was likely to be a fatal traumatic brain injury. Somehow Trevor can take everything in my life and show me the other end of it all. Like a telescope turned around Trevor can show me how the microchasms of everyday life mean nothing when compared to the scope of our world.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
spring fever?
I don't know why I am here. I don't know what I want to write or who I want to read it.
But some days, some nights, it takes every thing I have to keep breathing. The world can seem like a hostile place and occasionally one needs to retreat into one's shell and... just breathe. Let it all roll in and out without over thinking things.
So I somehow find myself here. Writing meaningless drivel and still unsure where to head from here.
But some days, some nights, it takes every thing I have to keep breathing. The world can seem like a hostile place and occasionally one needs to retreat into one's shell and... just breathe. Let it all roll in and out without over thinking things.
So I somehow find myself here. Writing meaningless drivel and still unsure where to head from here.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Someday Never Comes
If I ever learn to play the guitar it will be so I can play this song with my own hands.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Snow!
There is something magical about blizzards. There is this sense that the world is holding it's breath. The silence overtakes everything, even if you stay in the house. Maybe it's the thought of impending powder on the hills and knowing that I will be shooshing through it soon. Maybe it's the comfort of seeing all that deadly cold coming down while I am tucked cozily away at home with two of the cutest boys to ever exist. But blizzards make me want to curl up with a book, video game controller or a laptop to record my musings and snuggle with a strong cup of steaming coffee.
But motherhood is calling and my boys don't snuggle well. They are more the run wild through the house shooting each other and me while climbing the walls and ripping things apart. So instead I think we will make vegan sugar cookies in the shape of turkeys and pilgrim hats and decorate them with powdered sugar icing. But coffee is on and She & Him are playing in the background though so at least some of the blizzard peace is still in tact.
But motherhood is calling and my boys don't snuggle well. They are more the run wild through the house shooting each other and me while climbing the walls and ripping things apart. So instead I think we will make vegan sugar cookies in the shape of turkeys and pilgrim hats and decorate them with powdered sugar icing. But coffee is on and She & Him are playing in the background though so at least some of the blizzard peace is still in tact.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Secret by The Pierces
I am absolutely abuzz with my new-found love for The Pierces! What an amazingly creepycool sound they have.
This song isn't necessarily indicative of their overall musical stylings but how freaking cool is it?! It has this odd sexy/stalker feel to it that I find strangely captivating.
Just search Youtube for The Pierces if you are even half as twitterpated as I am right now.
This song isn't necessarily indicative of their overall musical stylings but how freaking cool is it?! It has this odd sexy/stalker feel to it that I find strangely captivating.
Just search Youtube for The Pierces if you are even half as twitterpated as I am right now.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Go, Mom!
Another gorgeous fall day. Twice this week I have spent my evening at the local roadside climb. It is already November and the leaves have only just started to turn and drop. Days that should be considered blustery have instead been filled with sunshine, open doors and warm rocks. All the locals were at the crag tonight, we don't waste these evenings if it can be helped.
As the golden sun was not yet set behind the Bannock Range I started up a climb that would have once been within my skill set. I knew a clean ascent would elude me tonight. Flushed basalt rubbed my raw fingers as I started up. I looked down at my little sister and double checked her stance. “I won't get this, Lyndsey,” I hollered. She rolled her eyes and yelled something back in typical teenage fashion. Just keep climbing, I thought to myself. A ledge that couldn't easily hold a nickel was my only hand hold, but I've seen worse. At least this ran the width of the route. Small foot holds were tolerably stable but an inexperienced belayer kept me from putting too much faith into any hold. I floundered a bit, testing holds and not moving much. My already tender hands were taking the brunt of my insecurities and the warm sun was threatening to disappear quickly and leave a chill to remind us that this reprieve was a temporary gift.
Rick was belaying near me and he kindly called out some beta. Rick may have been climbing these rocks before there was a city nearby. Or dirt. If grizzly old Rick tells you where to put your hands, listen. So listen I did. Moving left along the nickel-sized shelf I eventually found some small crimpers to grab. Breathing hard and trying not to groan with effort I reached for a far right hold using nothing but friction to lean into the rock and keep my body steady. All sounds faded as my world became focused into the ancient stone in front of me. A loud sigh escaped from me as I reached, clinging to what I could, climbing higher by inches. This is what I love. That silence, the way it all stops as my mind and body have condensed into a single moment, a single move, a single rock. And breaking through all that came one of the most beautiful sounds I have been blessed enough to hear. “Go, Mom!” shouts my 3 year old. I laughed and turned around to see a beaming boy scrambling up some low lying rocks several yards away. Pride written across his face he turns to the son of a friend of mine and says, “My mom can climb SO high.” As my precious silence was shattered by the ensuing battle of whose mom was cooler (I didn't bother to inform my smitten son that Felix's mom, was in fact a much better climber than I) I simply reveled in the cacophony of it all, my sought after silence replaced by the joyous sounds of motherhood.
As the golden sun was not yet set behind the Bannock Range I started up a climb that would have once been within my skill set. I knew a clean ascent would elude me tonight. Flushed basalt rubbed my raw fingers as I started up. I looked down at my little sister and double checked her stance. “I won't get this, Lyndsey,” I hollered. She rolled her eyes and yelled something back in typical teenage fashion. Just keep climbing, I thought to myself. A ledge that couldn't easily hold a nickel was my only hand hold, but I've seen worse. At least this ran the width of the route. Small foot holds were tolerably stable but an inexperienced belayer kept me from putting too much faith into any hold. I floundered a bit, testing holds and not moving much. My already tender hands were taking the brunt of my insecurities and the warm sun was threatening to disappear quickly and leave a chill to remind us that this reprieve was a temporary gift.
Rick was belaying near me and he kindly called out some beta. Rick may have been climbing these rocks before there was a city nearby. Or dirt. If grizzly old Rick tells you where to put your hands, listen. So listen I did. Moving left along the nickel-sized shelf I eventually found some small crimpers to grab. Breathing hard and trying not to groan with effort I reached for a far right hold using nothing but friction to lean into the rock and keep my body steady. All sounds faded as my world became focused into the ancient stone in front of me. A loud sigh escaped from me as I reached, clinging to what I could, climbing higher by inches. This is what I love. That silence, the way it all stops as my mind and body have condensed into a single moment, a single move, a single rock. And breaking through all that came one of the most beautiful sounds I have been blessed enough to hear. “Go, Mom!” shouts my 3 year old. I laughed and turned around to see a beaming boy scrambling up some low lying rocks several yards away. Pride written across his face he turns to the son of a friend of mine and says, “My mom can climb SO high.” As my precious silence was shattered by the ensuing battle of whose mom was cooler (I didn't bother to inform my smitten son that Felix's mom, was in fact a much better climber than I) I simply reveled in the cacophony of it all, my sought after silence replaced by the joyous sounds of motherhood.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
social networking
I have, on different occasions and for assorted reasons, shut down or privatized my assorted internet profiles. I have deleted my writings in fits of anger, eradicated a MySpace profile that was several years old, removed contacts from Gtalk, blocked people on Facebook because I didn't think they deserved to read my supremely lame status updates and even set this blog to be unreadable to everyone. I Tweeted once upon a time, for about 2 days, but I found it completely unsatisfying. And I have even boycotted certain email-friends due to their lack of adequate responses. I have been mulling this personality trait lately and I think I figured out why I am so quick to react to a lack of response.
Friendships don't have some intrinsic value simply for their own sake. Call me selfish, you'd hardly be the first, but if I put some thought and effort into communicating I want it to be returned. I believe this is why Twitter held no appeal for me. You just put your thoughts out in the ether and then what? I don't seek simple publication. No. I want communication, reciprocation, interrogations and revelations! These things cannot be had in 160 characters, or as a monologue. It may be why I occasionally private my blog and Facebook pages. It is frustrating to me that I can put thoughts down, anyone can read what I write, but there is no effort of returning the friendship on anyone else's part.
But then in my typically fickle fashion my reasons tend to lose their purpose or my frustration loses its luster. I usually vow to "never post anything of a personal nature again anyway" and I undo all privacy settings. After all, in my natural mercurial ways I forgive easily, change quickly and look back rarely.
Friendships don't have some intrinsic value simply for their own sake. Call me selfish, you'd hardly be the first, but if I put some thought and effort into communicating I want it to be returned. I believe this is why Twitter held no appeal for me. You just put your thoughts out in the ether and then what? I don't seek simple publication. No. I want communication, reciprocation, interrogations and revelations! These things cannot be had in 160 characters, or as a monologue. It may be why I occasionally private my blog and Facebook pages. It is frustrating to me that I can put thoughts down, anyone can read what I write, but there is no effort of returning the friendship on anyone else's part.
But then in my typically fickle fashion my reasons tend to lose their purpose or my frustration loses its luster. I usually vow to "never post anything of a personal nature again anyway" and I undo all privacy settings. After all, in my natural mercurial ways I forgive easily, change quickly and look back rarely.
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