Craft Therapy: SWAP MEET HEAVEN

SWAP MEET:

A flea market or swap meet is a type of bazaar where inexpensive or secondhand goods are sold or bartered. It may be indoors, such as in a warehouse or school gymnasium; or it may be outdoors, such as in a field or under a tent.[1] The flea market vendors may range from a family that is renting a table for the first time to sell a few unwanted household items to a commercial operation including a large variety of used merchandise, scouts who rove the region buying items for sale from garage sales and other flea markets, and several staff watching the stalls.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flea_market

Tonight our "Craft Therapy" consisted of a Swap Meet. (What is "Craft Therapy" you may ask? Just an excuse to hang out with eachother,be silly, create, eat good food, share our faith, and connect!)

This was the first Swap Meet I'd ever participated in and I must say it was pretty sweet. We all brought a few items that we no longer wanted collecting dust in our homes/closets and piled them onto Renee's dining room rug.

After stuffing our faces with pesto and playing "Two Truths and a Lie"(Which, by the way, was hilarious! We learned a lot about eachother: Belle's been charged by a bear, I used to have two pet reindeer, Renee has a pet bunny--for real--and Holly is much better at scuba-diving than chemistry(me too Holly! and I've never scuba-dived in my life...which describes my chemistry-incompetence quite clearly).

Then, the Swap Meet. We each pulled a number from a bowl that designated who our picking partner was and where we were in line to search for treasure amongst eachother's belongings. Every time you and your partner were up to bat so to speak, you had a total of 30 seconds to find something you liked. Here are a few modeling pictures of the girls and their treasures:









Newest FAVORITE SONG: ENJOY!

Craft Therapy Introduces Trucker Hat Makeovers

Last week's "Craft Therapy" night consisted of homeade pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream, zuchinni quiche, American Idol, and TRUCKER HATS! Take a look at Holly and Miss Jen's creations:)

Can you catch the moon?

DIY Anthropoloiesque Pretties and Things

After a short but sweet skip-to-my-lou visit to The Scrap Exchange, I had tid bits of vintage fabric that desperately wanted to be used for one of my own craft projects. With an old mustard-yellow(baby poo) sweater, big 'ole buttons, romantic lace and some vintage fabric bliss, I renditioned a sassy outfit of my own. I also managed to produce a pillow and some artsy fartsy wall decorations. Take a look!

First Egg of Spring

Here is our very first egg thanks to our Rhode Island Red hen!

The Secret Garden

www.anthropologie.com

Bon Iver and St. Vincent

This life is beautiful, sweet, and terrifyingly real and raw. So much is occurring at this very moment, out of my own control, around, in, above, behind, and in front of me--that I cannot see or know...

"You dream of colors that have never been made,
You imagine songs that have never been played.
They will try to buy you and your mind.
Only the curious have something to find." This Side by Nickelcreek

Jer and Juniper bought 3 chickens yesterday. They are still nameless. This morning Jered jumped out of bed and gleefully exclaimed "I have to feed our chickens!" We were also very happy because Juniper slept from 9:15PM until 6:40AM. "Lovely. Lovely, Lovely." Jane Austen's "Emma"

EAT. THEIR. GRUB.

www.parkerandotis.com

www.guglhupf.com

www.fostersmarket.com

Behind Your Eyes

If you let your feelings go, dear
It'll scare you what you'll find
I find them on your street, dear
And you're always on my mind

No one needs to know
That you let me in tonight
That you let me see the world behind your eyes
Behind your eyes

I want to see us work, dear
To reach the other side
My treachery is love, dear
We're on both ends of the fight

We're fighting for ourselves
We're fighting for our lives
Would you let me see the world behind your eyes?
Behind your eyes
Behind your eyes

No one needs to know
How scared we are tonight
Would you let me see the world?
Would you let me see the world? (behind your eyes)
Would you let me see the world behind your eyes?
Behind your eyes
Behind your eyes

In A Tree...

Owlies, Pretties and Things

Snowed-In with the Stunjas

Friday:

Last weekend, my husband, daughter and I enjoyed a 30-minute run in our neighborhood. The temperature--in the 60's. Our apparel--t-shirts and shorts. It's Winter in North Carolina, mind you, hence the reason why we skimped on our threads and spent a good majority of our run gushing about how amazing the weather felt!

Yesterday afternoon(Friday)--news reporters were well-equipped with rumors of snow, 6-9 inches. The last time they reported snow in the triangle, our neck of the woods saw nothing but wimpy wisps of white fairy dust. I was disappointed. Yesterday, however, my cynism got the better of me and what do you know, more than just a sheer dusting of white fluff covered the ground before me and before I knew it my husband, daughter, and I were snowed-in with our very good friends, the Stunjas. They graciously let us bunk with them and lent us pj's, blankets, and pillows. We rested our tired eyes(except for Juniper and me...ugh, we chatted and snacked all night).

Saturday:

We peeked out from behind the window's curtains--a frosted North Carolinian Narnia stood still and peaceful. And so, my friends, the party began. The hubby, bebe, Stunja's and I lounged around, ate yummy food, sang, laughed and enjoyed eachother's company all day long. Food was first on the day's menu: Blueberry waffles, mangos, apples, bacon(a little crispy but delicious nonetheless!), scrambled eggs, toast, and oj. My hubby and Mr. Stunja played Jeopardy during the earling morn, then Mrs. Stunja, Juniper, and I joined them to play Cranium. Next in line was a little afternoon nap, then a game of Extreme Life. Dinner stopped by and we said hi for awhile. Stuffed ourselves once again and resumed our game of Extreme Life. I won, by the way, ending up with 3 million dollas in the bank.

At about 10PM we decided that it was time to brave the snowy roads. All day long I was concerned about hitting the roads--I've never been one to enjoy driving in the snow, despite having years of practising in Iowa. But we did it, we left the Stunjas and found ourselves the only car driving on the Durham Freeway. It was a little creepy...like post-apocalyptic Durham.

It was the best sleep-over yet! Can't wait for the next big snow in NC!

Ani Difranco on Homebirth...

http://www.givingbirthwithconfidence.org/?p=198

Spring Valley Tree Farm: Short Memoirs

Slow…Children

Spring Valley Tree Farm’s driveway was a hub for teenage angst and inexperienced drag-racers. Truth be told, the well beaten mixture of gravel and dirt suffered a great many tales of recklace teenager driving spells and careless farm girls and boys. As former youth pastors, my parents’ hearts of gold attracted many of whom they ended up mentoring or taking in. However, with two little girls who aimlessly ventured outside for exploration and discovery, the need for a “slow-down!” sign was apparent. My father, with good intentions, bless his heart, put up an old, rusty sign labeled “Slow…Children” with the usual short character of a child strolling along on a yellow background. It was not until a few years later that I realized the offensive implications of that sign to both my sister and me. Needless to say, the sign is no longer standing alongside that well beaten mixture of gravel and dirt.

Barbie Money

During the early years of tree farming, my parents worked tirelessly (and still do) to provide for their little girls. In the summer, my mother and father would shear the Christmas trees with long “Last of the Mohican” knives. Although my parents wore tall boots to protect their sweaty, rubber-friction abused legs, shearing usually involved bouts of wild parsnip and poison ivy allergic reactions. To this day my father’s legs bear the harsh scars after many summers surviving the nasty weeds. After shearing season, early fall, my father would wake up at the crack of dawn to spray the trees. He would come back with a green four-wheeler, green face, green hair, and green clothes. What I remember most, however, were the green hairs peeking out from his nose. To me, those hairs represented more than just neglect of one’s appearance, but rather the selflessness my father displayed through working until his hands cracked and bled and nose hairs were green as the trees he sprayed. He was working for “Barbie Money”, as he liked to call it. When my sister and I would ask Dad where he was going or why he couldn’t stay home and play with us that day, he would reply, “Because I have to work to get Barbie money.” That put things into perspective for a three and six year old.

Worms

My little sister loved rain because rain meant 1. Mud and 2. Worms. Worms meant an opportunity to drive her(me) sister mad by chasing her across the driveway flinging dangly, wiggly worms onto her hair, clothes, and bare, white freckled skin. I still shiver thinking about the white plastic bucket my own flesh and blood joyfully carried around humming to herself and spouting off cries of delight each time a new worm caught her curious eyes. My sister also enjoyed catching insects with her net. One summer, for a 4-H project, she put together an organized display of insects she caught on a piece of white Styrofoam. As innocent and sweet this may sound, the insects did not experience a quiet and peaceful death. With a large needle, she would stab the bug with the sharp, miniscule point and watch them silently struggle to retrieve freedom from the large metallic pin-head blocking their view from the rest of the world. Even the big adoring blue eyes staring at them in delight were out of their sight. I never caught on to this “Girl of the Limberlost” behavior, but sometimes, when I have a moment to catch sight of my feelings and wishes, I miss that innocent Limberlost girl who spent her childhood curious about nature’s tiniest inhabitants instead of playing with a Wii, Ipod, or Gameboy. She was freshing, that Limberlost girl.

Good Morning! Lemon Zest Muffins

I am home with Juniper today because she has a cough that makes a mama cringe and boogies that grow longer with each sneeze. While June took her morning nap, I enjoyed a hot cup of Green Tea with the the following...

Good Morning! Lemon Zest Muffins

Ingredients:
1 cup shortening or 1/2 cup shortening and a 1/2 cup butter (REAL butter)
1 cup sugar
4 large eggs, separated
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoon baking powder
1teaspoon salt
1/2 cup fresh lemon juice
2 teaspoons grated lemon zest

Directions:
Cream shortening and sugar until light and fluffy; add egg yolks, beating well. Combine flour, baking powder, and salt; add to creamed mixture alternately with lemon juice, beating well after each addition. End with dry ingredients. Fold stiffly beaten egg whites into batter; stir in lemon zest. Fill greased muffin cups about three-quarters full. Bake lemon zest muffins at 375 degrees F for 20 to 25 minutes, until done. Makes about a dozen muffins.