Hilary

Kill ‘Em With Kindness

I’d like to think of myself as  someone who has good manners, someone who has, as my mother likes to say, “home training.”  It doesn’t take much to do the right thing when it comes to our daily interactions with people.  If you’re entering or exiting a building and see someone close behind you, hold the door for them.  If the roles are reversed and someone holds the door open for you, say “Thank you!”  Or if an act of a Good Samaritan makes your life a little easier, pay it forward and do something nice for someone else.

I used to work for a real estate agent (what haven’t I done, right?), and this man said that whenever he and his wife were out having dinner, if he saw another diner that he could identify as being in the any branch of the military, he would automatically pay for that persons meal, no questions asked.  Rick, the agent, said that picking up the check for someone who would fight for our rights and freedoms was the very least he could do.  I have not ever found myself where I could take the steps that Rick took — I’m far less gregarious and usually running down wayward children to cast about for dining veterans, but the lesson shared was one that I haven’t forgotten.

It doesn’t hurt to be kind. In fact, it serves to bolster our self-esteem.  In this day in age, who wouldn’t want a little inoculation against things that would rob us of joy?  I try to hold doors open for people when I can.  If I’m in the grocery store, I will let a shopper with fewer items scoot ahead of me. I have read the #ChiptoleProblems on Twitter, so I make sure I am not on my phone, always say “please” and “thank you” and make eye contact when I’m ordering my food.  For that matter, as a former food service employee, I really try to be super courteous to wait staff.  I’ve seen what goes on at the bus stations and in the kitchen (blerg!)

When I was at the RAD show, I went to use the ladies room.  There were three stalls, two of which were occupied. As I made for the empty stall, one of the others open up and the woman said, “Oh no, no, no! Don’t go in there! Someone took a huge dump and didn’t flush it! Here; use this one.” I was surprised that 1) she forewarned me of what could have been a dry heave inducing experience and 2) she said “dump”.  I appreciated that honesty, catching a break is probably more apt. After I had used the stall, I noticed that the toilet paper roll was getting dangerously low and there weren’t any spares within reach.  When I came out, I told the line of women waiting that the deal was.  Would most people have just washed their hands and rolled out? Probably. Would I have been one of those people had it not been for my previous ineteraction? Probably.  Still, I’m trying to be better. I’m not necessarily living the golden rule, but I’m working towards it.

Today was a swim day, and I had been looking forward to getting in the pool.  I don’t know if I’m a strong swimmer, but I’m confident in what I can do.  Just as I was about to slip into the lane, a woman approached me and asked if she could share.  The other lanes each had one swimmer in them, save the very far lane of the pool which was reserved for open swim.  She explained that she asked before I got in because then she wouldn’t have to interrupt anyone and if she swam in the open swim lane, there was a chance that a class could come in and kick her out.  Here was my face:

I know, I just got finished say that I ‘m trying to be better, but I haaaaaaate lane sharing.  While I may be confident in what I can do, I’m not confident about what I can do when someone is swimming in tandem with me, less than 6 inches away.  I’m on hyper alert. Am I drifting too far to center? Did we say circles or splits? Am I too close to the lane line? Can I backstroke or will I get in her way? Is she trying to race me? What was supposed to be a relatively stress-free workout has been now all twisted out of shape because I’m trying not to encroach on someone else’s workout.  And I kind of doubt they’re worrying about me the way that I’m worry about them.  That in turn leads me to these kinds of thoughts:

  • I’ll just check the surrounding lanes after each lap
  • I’ll just won’t do backstroke today.
  • I’ll just stick with the crawl
  • I’ll just slide over a lane if another lane opens up.
  • Wait, why should I slide over a lane? I was here first. She asked me to share.
  • Yeah, but I’m not enjoying sharing, so if something opens up, I should move.
  • Well then, she’ll have won.
  • Won what, dummy?
  • She’ll have the lane to herself.
  • I’ll have a lane to myself, if I move over.
  • Yeah, but what if I move, then someone else comes and asks me to share and then I’ll be right back where I started.
  • #firstworldproblems

And then I sheared off the top layer of skin from my forearm because I was so busy wrangling logistics with myself that I cozied up to the lane line without even realizing it.  This went on for a good 20 minutes, and probably another 5 went by before I realized the woman had taken it upon herself to slide to an empty lane when the opportunity presented itself.

When I had finished my swim, I spent a few minutes stretching before I hopped out of the pool.  The woman pulled up in the lane next to me, removing her fins and adjusting her goggles.  I felt like I should apologize, but she didn’t know the inner monologue that I had been using to fuel my flip turns.  So,  I turned to her and said, “I’m sorry if I threw you off while I was doing the backstroke. I hope you were able to get your laps in.”  She shook her head and said, “Oh no, it was fine.  Thanks for sharing.”

She thanked me.

Yeah, I felt pretty small.

So, I’m going to toughen my resolve, make my mother proud, and make a conscious effort to go the extra mile for a stranger.  I can hold a door open. I can wipe down a toilet seat (not that I’m a sprayer, but just as a courtesy). I can offer a smile. I can always say “Thank You”. I can put the phone down when I’m checking out at Target. I can just be a better version of me and in so doing, maybe make someone else feel good.

I can learn to lane share, and I can do it without giving the Chloe side-eye.

Maybe. . .baby steps, people. . .baby steps.

 

 

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IN: ON: May 15, 2014 TAGS: , , , , , BY: Hilary
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Q&A

I’ve been doing some introspection lately.  I’ve been trying to put the words to the reason behind why I blog.  I was speaking with a friend the other day who was looking for some insight on how to get started with blogging.  The question of why I started blogging came up.  Seven years ago, I was a new mom of two small children. We had recently moved to a new city, we had downsized from a multi-square-foot house to an apartment. The Hubs had a vicious commute and I had a lot of time on my hands to knead and shape my loneliness.  I had always been a chronicler of my own life experiences. I could burn through at least two journals a year.  Having children, however, left me less time to put pen to paper and I was smarting from the lack of relief that writing provided.  I had started following a friend’s blog and thought,”I could do that.”  As it turns out, I most certainly could.

Fast forward seven years and my blog has taken various forms. At first, I thought I wanted to be an Erma Bombeck type — this being prior to the Mommy Blogger assignation.  I wanted to recount funny stories with my kids and dispense pearls of wisdom.  Then for several attempts, I thought maybe I’d be more like Martha Stewart, where everything was a”good thing” and I could talk about recipes I’d made or crafts that I’d created.  I tried theme posts. I tried blog challenges. I tried a number of things before settling on the open, stream of consciousness diary type of blogging that I find myself doing.  If I still took pen in hand and cracked the binding on a fabric covered journal, I’d probably be writing very much the same thing I am here.  The blog is how I curate my thoughts and experiences. It’s my confessional, my confidant, my soapbox and my platform.  I write the way I think; that’s it.  There are scores of unfinished posts in my draft queue because I have a tendency to start something, get distracted and forget what direction I had planned to go in when I finally get back to the post. I can’t write something, save, come back several days later to review, edit and so forth.  I’d have zero to no posts and this blog would be the equivalent of an empty lot.  I write. I spell-check (I miss a few things, occasionally). I publish.  That’s it.

What else is there to know about me? What are my vital stats besides being a writer, photographer, wife, mama, sister and friend?  There’s quite a bit more.  Rather than provide you with an ESPN worthy highlight reel of my greatest hits, I thought I’d answer some questions that I found from a post that had been left in the queue longer than I’d care to admit.  These questions came from another blog challenge, which I clearly didn’t complete.  Initially, the plan was to fill in the questions, swap out one question for one of my own and then pass the challenge to another blogger.  I think the blogger I got this from and the blogger I planned to send it to are no longer blogging.  It’s been that long.

What are your current obsessions?

The usual suspects: bacon, chocolate, and books.  A dark chocolate and sea salt bar studded with bacon to snack on while I read a book that it is at once gripping, hilarious, and thought provoking? That’s the ideal.   Reading, reading, and reading.  I’m either in the middle of a book, just finishing a book or on the look out for the next book that I want to read. Similarly, I’m either having a snack, finishing a snack or thinking about what the next snack will be.  As for the book, however, I recently updated my GoodReads shelf with my starred review of “Seating Arrangements” by Maggie Shipstead.  I downloaded a sample of her next book, “Astonish Me“, as well as a sample of BJ Novak’s collection of short stories entitled, “One More Thing: Stories and Other Stories“.  I am completely in love with the ability to borrow e-books from the library, but I’m so far down on the waiting list for both of those aforementioned titles, I may cough up a few bucks to iTunes to get my hands on them.

Which item from your closet are you wearing most often?

Undoubtedly, my leopard print scarf from J.Crew.  I almost didn’t buy it.  At the time, J.Crew was a special occasion brand for me.  I ran in Old Navy, Target and sometimes the Loft type of circles.  I had just finished reading yet another “Top 10 Closet Essentials”, and was trying to make something out of the nothing that was hanging on my shelves.  One of the items listed was a “wear with everything scarf”.  The author advocated prints, especially leopard.  The only times I wore scarves include when one of the girls pilfered my hair bonnet or when the temps dropped low enough that a turtleneck and sweater weren’t going to cut it.  Print scarves were completely out of my wheelhouse, but I got on the Internet and searched for some options. Lo and behold, J.Crew had a scarf (and I had a coupon), and we’ve been inseparable ever since.  While I have learned that there are at least 24 ways to tie a scarf, I usually stick with one or two ways, but I add that flash of print to just about everything.  Jenna Lyons is absolutely correct in her assessment.

 Last thing you bought for yourself?

That’s a tough one.  The last thing I bought frivolously or the last thing I bought purposefully? I recently bough this dress from Vineyard Vines on a complete impulse.  The more I hang onto it, the greater my buyer’s remorse.  It’s a lovely dress, and I feel good in it, but. . .where am I really going in this dress?
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Vineyard Vines Sea Shell Maxi Dress. *excuse the hair*

Plus, I’m kind of in between sizes so the first size was too roomy, the second size was too snug. The whole thing is too long, so in order to make it work, I’d have to have it tailored.  It’s not really that big of a deal, but when you add the cost of tailoring to the cost of the dress, that’s more than I’m comfortable with for something that is thoroughly limited to one season and easily identifiable once worn (read: I can’t wear this multiple times in the same season!).  Like I said, it was an impulse buy.  It’s going back even though I know I’ll be thinking about it, wishing that I had kept it.  The last time I saw a Vineyard Vines dress and talked myself out of buying it, I regretted it.  That dress was a go-to  warm weather frock that could be dressed up or down, depending on the situation. I have a habit of buying things, regretting it, and then when I go to return it, discovering said item has been sold out or back-ordered due to high demand. Then I get a big head like, “Oooh, maybe I’m ahead of the curve in that fashion game this time!” The temptation to keep it is great, but really . ..where am I going in this dress?

What are three things you would like to learn to do?

Play the piano. . .with both hands.
Speak French fluently. The struggle continues.
Proper function and use of various kitchen knives.

Know Your Knives

What is one item you could not live without?

Post it notes and pencils.
I’m ripe with ideas. I’m swollen with ideas. Projects. Places to go. Things to do. Stuff to make. Meals to try. Challenges for the mind and body and creative side of my personality.  My wheels are continuously turning and my train of thought rattles and sways through the remotest of connections between topics.  I’ve got to have a place to capture these ideas and re-visit them when time permits.  So, there post it notes and pencils within reach at all times.  In the bathroom cabinets. On the bathroom mirror. In my nightstand. In the kitchen junk drawer. In the kitchen spice rack. On my desk. On the mail table.  In the car console. In my briefcase. In my purse. In the diaper bag.  I’m kind of surprised that there isn’t a trail of yellow stickies and eraser shavings following me like cans tied to the bumper of a wedding car.

Money’s not an object, so where are you going on vacation?

Seychelles (I just like the name and how it sounds. Oh, and it’s a goregous island with sugary white beaches and Tiffany Box Blue waters.
Venice, Italy.
Cairo, Egypt.

What is the last movie you saw?

Probably Frozen. I have three little girls, so I think that explains that.

What’s your guilty pleasure?

I love Dancing with the Stars.  Love it.  I will stay up late (I know, I need to go to bed) and watch every undulation, sequin, shake, and shimmy.  I love watching the partners do rolls during the latin dances. I love the lifts in contemporary and the flying footwork that comes with quickstep and the jive.  Fancy myself a contender even though I’m neither a) a dance or b) a star.

What’s your favorite smell?

I love how my room smells after I’ve left all the windows open on a gorgeous day, but have kept the door closed.  All that sun dappled, Vitamin D infused air just percolating around my room, in my bed and in my sheets.  It’s the same smell that permeates your clothes when you dry them outside on the line, except that now it’s all in your room. Mmmm. . .it’s so clean and refreshing.

Best thing you ate or drank lately?

I gave up wine and red meat for Lent, so one of my first post Lenten meals was a nice marbled rib-eye, a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon and a side of fries.

Care to share some wisdom?

I have been given so many seeds of advice and nuggets of knowledge, it’s hard to choose one or two that speak to me above the others.  They’re all so vital.  I went to my Pinterest board, the aptly entitled Pearls of Wisdom. The most often repeated pins had to do with cultivating good self-esteem, the love of books and setting a proper table.

Describe one of your happiest moments?

Walking for the first time, without crutches, a boot or any help, after my tenolysis surgery.

What is your favorite snack?

I’m really into The Fresh Market’s Sea Salt Popcorn.

What do you have an addiction to?

Chipotle.  2-3 times a week, I confess.

Why do you blog?

1. What is your favorite word?
2. What is your least favorite word?
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
4. What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
5. What sound or noise do you love?
6. What sound or noise do you hate?
7. What is your favorite curse word? (stars with pre and post indicators will suffice)
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
9. What profession would you not like to do?
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

Read more at http://bettesblues.blogspot.com/2013/06/10-questions-james-lipton-asks.html#uMqzkECd8PCRKeT6.99

To quote Lord Byron, “If I don’t write to empty my mind, I go mad.”

Is there anything you’d like to know? Ask me a question in the comments and I’ll do my best to answer!

 

 

1. What is your favorite word?
2. What is your least favorite word?
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
4. What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
5. What sound or noise do you love?
6. What sound or noise do you hate?
7. What is your favorite curse word? (stars with pre and post indicators will suffice)
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
9. What profession would you not like to do?
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

Read more at http://bettesblues.blogspot.com/2013/06/10-questions-james-lipton-asks.html#uMqzkECd8PCRKeT6.99

1. What is your favorite word?
2. What is your least favorite word?
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
4. What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
5. What sound or noise do you love?
6. What sound or noise do you hate?
7. What is your favorite curse word? (stars with pre and post indicators will suffice)
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
9. What profession would you not like to do?
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

Read more at http://bettesblues.blogspot.com/2013/06/10-questions-james-lipton-asks.html#uMqzkECd8PCRKeT6.99

1. What is your favorite word?
2. What is your least favorite word?
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
4. What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
5. What sound or noise do you love?
6. What sound or noise do you hate?
7. What is your favorite curse word? (stars with pre and post indicators will suffice)
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
9. What profession would you not like to do?
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

Read more at http://bettesblues.blogspot.com/2013/06/10-questions-james-lipton-asks.html#uMqzkECd8PCRKeT6.99

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IN: ON: May 8, 2014 TAGS: BY: Hilary
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#Winning

The Richmond Ad Club is a group of extraordinarily talented and creative advertising professionals living and working in RVA.  In addition to supporting the visionary work of their peers, the Richmond Ad club also works to make the Richmond advertising community by hosting events like fundraisers and networking opportunities. The RAD Show, also known as the Quest for the Cannonball, is an award show and party hosted by the Richmond Ad Club to recognize and celebrate the award winning work put forth by Virgina’s advertising professionals.

This past Saturday night, the Hubs and I attended the RAD Show, and your girl came home with two silver cannonballs. My homepage of wiggling, spiraling curls directing you here and there is now an award winning website!

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I first had the idea to create a unique splash page for my website about this time last year.  I had not seen anything even close to what I wanted to do.  There were a few ads that showed curly haired ladies that had words superimposed over their hair, or that had words written onto the hair, but nothing that showed words spelled out from the hair itself.  Writing and photography are my forte, so while I could describe easily enough what I wanted to do and even take a few mock snaps of myself to storyboard it out, I needed some additional help.

The first step was getting the right picture.  I love beauty shots. I love the simplicity of a white background and nothing but the tight close up of the model’s face filling the frame.  In order to get the desired effect, I was going to have let my hair have free reign.  My good friend Ariel Skelley set me up in her studio with the right lighting, great direction and provided me with scores of shots from which to choose.

Once the image was created, I needed someone to work some Photoshop magic on it to get the words spelled out.  I started talking to other creative types I know and one suggested Jeff Glotzl, who does photo retouching.   Jeff did work on the Science Museum of Virginia ad that showed the young boy lifting up the ocean to see what was between the water and the sand (It’s a such a resonant image, because who among us hasn’t wanted to do that very thing).  Click here to see it.

I reached out to Jeff, explained what it was that I was trying to do, and he was enthusiastically on board.  Of the course of our collaboration, Jeff mentioned once or twice that we should consider submitting the finished product to some contests because he hadn’t seen anything like it in his experience.  As things took shape, like the words “about”, “writing”, “photography”, “projects” and “contact” — from a literal lock of my hair, I could see what a one-of-a-kind design I had created.  I followed up with Jeff about submitting the design with a simple, “Just let me know if you hear anything,” and left it at that.  Eventually, the page was complete, the “i’s” dotted with a curl and the “t’s” crossed with a bobby pin.  Jeff gave each word a little more personality by having them wiggle and wave as your roll over them.  I was thrilled and just awed that something I had scratched out on some notebook paper was live in front of me.

With the help of Andrew and Spencer at Team-Eight, we took the site live to what it is now.  I’ve had incredible amounts of positive feedback from family and friends as well as people who happen to stumble upon my site through various means.  I’ve been riding high, and when Jeff sent me an email several weeks ago with “We Won an Award!” in the subject line, it was the icing on the cake.  We entered the design in the web category for micro-sites were in contention for Gold, Silver or Bronze.  We were also chosen to win a design award (Gold, Silver or Bronze), which, as it turns out, we did! Complete list of winners here.

The Hubs and I got duded up and spent the evening at the show.  It was incredible.  There are so many talented people working in advertising in Richmond.  Major campaigns for UPS, Geico, Oreo and the like, originated and were created here in RVA.  Seeing my page up on the large screen, hearing my name called along with Jeff’s, threading my way through the audience to receive my award, hearing the President of the Richmond ad club tell me, “Oh, we clicked on the curls a lot!”  — the entire experience was surreal.

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We ended the night with little post show celebration of oysters and prosecco at Rappahannock afterwards, just me and the Hubs.

A great number of things, both creatively and professionally, are falling into place for me right now. I’m so fortunate, so blessed, and so giddy about it all. A few weeks ago, I posted a snap on IG of a bottle of champagne, saying that I’d had the bottle for close to 10 years, but was going to pop it open this summer.  This past week-end is one more reason to celebrate.

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IN: ON: May 5, 2014 TAGS: , , , BY: Hilary
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photography projects & DIY recipes

Recipe Friday: Teddy Bear Beach Party

The week-end is already over and it’s only Thursday. I’m calling it because between now and Sunday evening, it’s go, go, go until we can face-plant among the pillows only to wake up on Monday and start fresh.  The kids are heading into end of year mode.  May marks one month until the end of this school year.  The first week-end in May kicks off the slide down that slope with Spirit Week, Field Day and Magic Dragon Day. Spirit Week involves the kids dressing up each day from a pre-approved theme.  Monday and Tuesday were Blue and White Day (school colors), Wednesday was Tie-Day day, and Thursday was Crazy Hat day.  Sadly, we have no “crazy” hats, but the girls looked, to quote M, “Stylish, sophisticated and continental,” in two of my church hats.  Friday is field day where each grade participates in relays, running races, and other fun games.  They wear their Magic Dragon Day shirts — the dragon being the school mascot, the shirt color pre-determined by the eldest family member attending the school (Go, Blue!) — and run around, getting hot, sweaty and grass stained.  It’s an early release day as well and I’m confident that this year, I’ll remember to get them at 1pm instead of the regular dismissal time like I did the last two years (oops!).

Magic Dragon Day is on Saturday and it promises to be a rolicking event.  Every year, the school hosts a carnival like event for the entire school.  There are booths with games of chance, tug-of-war contests in each grade, dunking booths, Spirit Wear sales, book sales, a cake walk and the highly anticipated kidnergarten May Pole Dance.  While this is our third MDD, this is our first May Pole Dance and cake walk experience.  The kindgergarten kiddos have been practicing since before Easter to kick off MDD with their dance.  The girls and boys wear their Sunday best and dance around the blacktop, lacing grosgrain ribbons up and down the length of a flower topped pole.  Once the dance is over, Magic Dragon Day can officially begin.

C is in kindergarten this year and has been protesting having to do the May Pole dance because she “doesn’t want to hlod hands with a boy!!”  Keep up that attitude, kiddo!  As we’ve gotten closer, though, she’s started to get more excited.  She’s picked out her dress, she’s decided what color flowers she’d like in the wreath that will sit atop her head.  She is ready to peel out of the dress with her friends and into her MDD shirt in order to paritcipate in her first ever tug-of-war.  I suppose it’s no surprise that her enthusiasm has been escalating. While neither she nor M have ever done a May Pole before, they’re third year MDD vets and ready to eat and play their way through the day.

In addition to the May Pole prep, kindergarten parents are also tasked with preparing two cakes (or 48 cupcakes or some combination of cake and cupcake) for the MDD cake walk.  Cake walk? What’s that, you ask.  The Cake Walk is one of the most fun and successful booths at MDD.  Similar to musical chairs, participants move along a serpentine path on the blacktop.  The path is sectioned off into numbers which correspond to numbered cakes set up in the auditorium.  When the music stops, the emcee draws a number from the pile and whomever is standing on that number, wins the corresponding cake.  The cakes are indeed prizes to be had!  The cakes are either homemade or store bought, and decorated within an inch of their lives.  The more decorations, the better!  In years past, cakes have been decorated as sand castles, treasure chests, dragons, Legos, Polly Pocket Beach parties and Star Wars themed cake toppers.

Earlier in the year, when talking with another kindergarten mom, we resolved to buy our cakes instead of fool around with the homemade foolishness.  At the time, the mandate was, homemade only — not necessarily from scratch, but definitely homemade.  I was all about “breaking the law” because I didn’t know what the heck kind of cake I could scrape together or whether or not I was really up to the challenge of finding something that could hold its own against other Pinterest-worthy cakes that were sure to come down the pike.  I went back and forth the Hubs about it, who clearly fell on the side of “Just buy the cake!” and my mom who was more of “Oh, c’mon, you can make it.”  Truthfully, I was doing a cost benefit analysis as to what was more cost effective: buying a pre-decorated cake or buying the uspplies and doing it myself.  In the end, I think it was a wash.  I found a recipe that looked hard, but was more time consuming than anything else.  Ultimately, my biggest challenge was making sure my cupcake cups were equally filled.  Well, that and trying to keep the girls from eating the decorations before I could put them on the cake.

Between the cake and the prep for the May Pole dance, which included hot gluing silk flowers to a ribbon encased wreath, it’s been straight up Crafty Town up in here. The recipe for the cupcakes follows the photos of my finished product. I baked the cakes and cupcakes a few days ahead of time so that I could focus solely on frosting and decorating.

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Teddy-At-The-Beach Cupcakes.

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Teddy’s lounging.

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Here’s my layer cake. Same premise as the cupcakes, but I got a little fancier with jelly bean rocks in the sand and icing trim around the edges.

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Here, fishy, fishy!

 

Enjoy and Happy Friday, y’all!

Teddy-At-The-Beach Cupcakes

recipe courtesy of Betty Crocker, found here.

Ingredients

  • 1 box Betty Crocker® SuperMoist® cake mix (any flavor)
  • 2 drops blue food color
  • 1 cup Betty Crocker® Whipped vanilla frosting
  • 1 roll (from 4.5-oz box) Betty Crocker® Fruit by the Foot® chewy fruit snack (any flavor)
  • 1/2 cup teddy bear-shaped graham snacks, crushed, or brown sugar
  • 1 tablespoon Betty Crocker® blue sugar, if desired
  • 12 teddy bear-shaped graham snacks
  • 6 paper drink umbrellas or small plastic umbrellas, if desired
  • 6 ring-shaped gummy candies
  • 6 multi-colored fish-shaped crackers

Directions

  • 1 Heat oven to 350°F (325°F for dark or nonstick pans). Place paper baking cup in each of 24 regular-size muffin cups. Make and bake cake mix as directed on box for 24 cupcakes. Cool in pans 10 minutes; remove from pans to cooling rack. Cool completely, about 30 minutes. Tightly wrap 12 cupcakes; freeze for a later use.
  • 2 Stir blue food color into frosting until blended. Frost remaining 12 cupcakes with frosting.
  • 3 Cut six 1 1/2-inch pieces from fruit snack roll; peel off paper backing. Use fruit snack and remaining ingredients to decorate cupcakes as shown in photo or as desired.

See also:  A Day at the Beach Cake! Recipe courtesy of Reloved Recipes, found here.

 

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IN: photography projects & DIY recipes ON: May 2, 2014 TAGS: , , , , , , , , , , BY: Hilary
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recipes

May 1st

After all that talk about not being able to get a decent night’s sleep, I’ve completely set myself back by staying up later than planned.  Last night, I was all set to go to bed.  The kids had been fed and watered.  My face had been scrubbed, my pj’s were on.  Then the Hubs and I got to talking about our week-end plans, parenting challenges we faced this past week and how to manage them. Then, it was 11:15 and I was kicking myself for falling short of my goal.  My sleep was restless.  I was hot. I was cold. I stuck one leg out from underneath the blanket to bring balance to the force and that didn’t help.  My boot was too tight. Then it wasn’t tight enough.  Then I took it off, but realized, I didn’t want the blankets pulling on my foot and causing a prolonged extension of my tendon for the duration of the night. So, I put it back on.  I was finally drifting off and felt the urge to pee.  I tried to ignore it, but my brain ran down the facts of why holding it was a bad idea. Hello, UTI.  I peed. I washed my hands. I crept back into bed and V cried out in her sleep from behind closed doors and across the hall.  I counted to ten and all was silent.  I closed my eyes. I skimmed the surface of sleep, not quite submerging, knowing that the alarm was going to hoist me back to consciousness.

Today, however, I planned to try again.  My goal was to be in the bed by 9pm.  Shutting down the house (i.e. kids squared away, kitchen clean, laundry done), I was going to take this evening to burn through a baking project that I committed to for Saturday.  As luck would have it, I pushed through the Betty Crocker business and got everything wrapped  during the after-school rush.  I was simultaneously baking, making dinner and issuing directives to my minions. Set the table! Wash your hands! Get ready for lacrosse practice!  It was a well oiled machine. By the way time the wee ones were in bed, the eldest home from practice and in the shower, it was 8:15.  That gave me a good hour or two to devote to writing. So I did. . .I wrote a healthy, photo studded recipe Friday post.  For Friday, not today.

Today is the first of May. I have been pretty inconsistent when it comes to posting on the first of the month. It’s not that I have some obligation to fulfill, nor have I been challenged in some way, but to me, a first of the month post is a clean break from the previous month and a committed start to the next.  I am consistently inconsistent about it, though.  As I started to gather up my things and make my way to bed, I remembered that today was the first.  While tomorrow’s post is in the pipeline and ready to go, I had nothing to say for today that I hadn’t already said for tomorrow.

The Hubs and I were sitting at the dining room table, working in tandem, when he abruptly snapped his computer shut, flashed me a peace sign and made for the upstairs.  It was 10:35.  What in the world? What happened to my evening?  I was going to bust out a post, maybe click around tumblr a bit, read a few chapters in my book and then go to bed.  10:35 and I’m still fully dressed, face unwashed, wondering how in the devil I’m going to get 24 cupcakes, 1 layer cake, myself and V into the school auditorium tomorrow without incident.  10:35 and I could see all that potential good sleep swirling away from me like Calgon laced water down the drain.

So, I decided to call it a night, only to have the Hubs call me to carpet about it.  With a pep talk to rival Mickey, he convinced me to keep at it, offering to stay up with me until I was done — provided it was a wrap by midnight. Are you kidding me? Midnight? I haven’t seen the far side of 12am since NYE and even then, it was because I had my eyelids propped open with the toothpicks from my martini glass.  But I digress. . .the prospect of staying up until midnight was SO unappealing, I just grabbed the first meme I could find, banged out a couplet about it and was ready to post when the Hubs called me out again.

Standing behind me, he simply asked,”Is this your best work?”

the face i make when i know i’m wrong.

Damnit.

I’m not under the gun, contractually obligated or even financially compensated for writing.  I write because I love to do it. I write because if I don’t, I can’t function properly.  To quote Gloria Steinem, I write because “Writing is the only thing that, when I do it, I don’t feel I should be doing something else.”  And right now, despite my desire to lay my head on my pillow, I am perfectly happy stringing words together for you to read.

I want to write.  I want to share my writing process, which is not that different from how I ended up drawing something from nothing at 10:30 on a Thursday night. I want to tell stories, share experiences, and draw out responses.

I also want to go to bed.

11:05.  I’m kind of cross-eyed with fatigue right now, but the Hubs is cheering me on like I’ve hit the final mile marker on this race and all that’s left to do is break the tape.

*cue up Chariots of Fire*

Fingers flying, I’m coming into the homestretch. I’ve only got a few more lines. It’s closing in on 11:15 and. . .

SWEET FANCY MOSES! HIT THE SAVE BUTTON!! HIT THE SAVE BUTTON!!

It’s time for bed.

 

 

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IN: recipes ON: May 2, 2014 TAGS: , , , , , , , BY: Hilary
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In Search of Sweet Dreams

I haven’t been sleeping well lately. There’s not doubt to the depths of my fatigue as of late, but when the time comes for me to power down and tuck in for the night, it doesn’t happen. In our household, when the Hubs says he’s going to bed, he shuts off his computer, puts on his pjs, and gets in the bed. He may read for a little bit, but usually the time between him announcing his departure for slumber and the actual lights clicking out is less than 10 minutes. Me on the other hand? I say I’m going to bed and proceed to do the following:

1. empty the dishwasher
2. clear the counter top of drying dishes
3. wipe down counters
4. move dry laundry to laundry basket
5. move wet laundry to dryer
6. clear off the kitchen table
7. push in all the chairs around the table
8. set the table for tomorrow’s breakfast
9. close the lid to the piano
10. collect wayward toddler, 6 year old and 8 year old detritus to bring upstairs

and this is ALL BEFORE I EVEN GO UPSTAIRS!

There’s another set of ten or so things that happen before I get in the bed, and then once I’m in the bed, I spend a few minutes massaging my leg with this scar cream that I think is really just a bottle of Nivea dressed up to look like a legitimate prescription. I put my bonnet on, strap my leg into my orthopedic boot (yes, I’m still wearing this thing), and turn off the lights. As I settle back into my pillow, my muscles uncoiling, my brain decides to remind me of the possible adventures that tomorrow will bring. If I get up 15 minutes later than usual, I’ll really enjoy a few more minutes of sleep If I get up 15 minutes earlier, though, I could knock out a few crunches before having breakfast. Or I could fold that laundry while I watch the news. Did I remember to pack the right amount of snacks in the girls’ lunches? Tomorrow I”m supposed to read at school before lunch or is it next Thursday before music class? How many trips to Target is it going to take to get all of the things on M’s camp list? Can I get it all done before V conks out for a nap? What is that noise? Did I remember to lock the front door?

Did I turn the lights off? Is my car locked? Where’s my wallet?

And so on and so on before my alarm is tolling me awake with increasing volume. I’m up and the cycle repeats itself. The last few days, this endless listing of what the following day will bring has been supplanted with the most disturbing of dreams. I don’t know if it’s something that I ate, if it’s something in my subconscious trying to get out or what, but I go to sleep and am immediately plunged into a dreamscape that leaves me more tired upon awakening than when I went to sleep.

Have you ever had one of those dreams that you know isn’t real, but you can’t escape it no matter how much you try? Have you have ever had one of those dreams several nights in a row? It’s exhausting. It started several days ago and the dream was basic in its premise. I was at home, but it wasn’t my home. I was with my family, but they didn’t look like my family. We had a cage full of a dozen ferrets that I was responsible for and, while it wasn’t verbalized, somehow I knew that if I didn’t take care of them, they’d go all Gremlin on me. This was the first time I’d ever had a roiling anxiety stomach ache in a dream. I’ve never had a ferret in real life! I know that they feel like liquid fur, they can be both cute and vicious and that even though they’ve had their scent glands removed, they still stink. The entirety of the dream was me taking care of these ferret, hoping that they didn’t freak out, with my nose full of musk and my stomach on pitching and rolling like I was on the deck of the Titanic. The whole while, I’m telling myself, “This isn’t real. This isn’t real. Wake up, dummy! Wake up!” No haps. When I finally did emerge from that bizarre tableau, it wasn’t because I had clawed my way into consciousness. It was more of a bucket of water in the face type of wake-up courtesy of my alarm. Nothing is more disorienting that going from sleep to wakefulness, but feeling like you haven’t really left the former behind.
Same dream the next night, with minor changes. And another night, same basic premise, but now the ferrets has evolved into anthropomorphic type creatures. . .and they were wearing clothes. They looked like those jet pack wearing, roller skating dogs from Madagascar 3 (hello, subconscious).

I have no idea what all of this means. I have read articles about the symbolism involved in dreams, but I’d be really impressed if there was a ferret related symbolism that has been discussed. Certainly, the feelings of anxiety are legitimate. There’s a lot going on in my life right and I’m doing my best to keep all my plates spinning in the air. Time management, which used to be my strong suit, has not been as easy for me to get my arms around. The to-do list grows and I find myself adding things that I’ve already done just so I can have the satisfaction of crossing them off.
Which brings me to today. This whole thing has been unnerving and I need to put a stop to it because my energy is flagging, my crankiness is skyrocketing and I am close to delirious from lack of sleep. I can’t mess around any more. The Hubs has been out of for several days and I am doing above and beyond Super Mom duty in his absence. There’s no time for poor sleep. Counting sheep, warm milk and the like isn’t my jam. I don’t want to take any sleep aids because I’m afraid that one of the children will need me and I won’t be able to respond to them. What’s a girl to do?

I’m going to start with food. No more to eat after 8pm. I’ve already cut my caffeine consumption dramatically. Instead of 2-3 cups a day, I’m down to like 2 or 3 a week. I’m drinking tea and even that’s decaffeinated. As for wine — I can never remember if it’s red before or what, but no matter. This Lenten experience with no alcohol has also altered my consumption of the grape and grain.

When I’m ready for bed, I’m going to get ready for bed. Wash the face, twist the hair, put on the jammies. I’m truly going to power down when the time comes. No more texting up until I turn off the light. I will actually turn the phone off, turn the iPad off, turn the computer off. I will use a real clock (what? they still make those?) as my alarm.

I will put lavender oil on my wrists.

I will use the same charm on myself that I give to the girls to ensure sweet dreams: Think about all the good things that happened to you today. Think about all of the good things that will happen to you tomorrow. Think about all the people that you are thankful for, whose lives you’ve touched and whose lives have touched yours.

I will use some old yoga skills to bunch and relax my muscles groups in an orderly progression from my toes to my head until I’m nothing but a puddle under my blankets.
I will stand on the edge of solid wakefulness, my toes moving closer to fathomless sleep.

I will step.

I will fall.

I will sleep.
I will sleep.
I will sleep.

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IN: ON: April 30, 2014 TAGS: , , , BY: Hilary
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Staying Sharp

I think I’m getting dumber.  Not that I was ever a font of pertinent information, but there was a time when I could readily call upon facts and figures to help me navigate conversations and several round of Jeopardy. Nowadays, I’m lucky if I can complete a thought that isn’t peppered with “Uh. . .what’s the word? Oh wait. . .I had something for this!”

The hours and minutes of my day are consumed like Ms. Pac-Man gobbling up pellets.  When I do find a snatch of time here and there, I like to do something that requires the minimum amount of brain power.  I’ll read a few random articles on BuzzFeed. I’ll click on a few pages of Funsubstance or random links my brother sends me that show humanity at it’s most ridiculous.  Exhibit A: The Smalls Family, which is a video where a Caucasian family communicates only using lyrics from the Notorious B.I.G. And like a dummy, I watched it.  Those are 3 minutes and 38 seconds I will never see again.  By allowing this video prime real estate in my consciousness, I’ve undoubtedly unseated something crucially important, something that I’ll need when the kids bring home the next round of math homework.  Can you believe we’re on geometry already? Rays, lines, line segments!  See! I knew it! I’m going to have to look this -ish up!

There are times when I work on some mental fitness, though. I started using Lumosity, which is an app that provides daily brain games to help you stay sharp.  I bought an algebra workbook from a used bookstore and began giving myself little quizzes on X+Y type problems.  At the very least, I would be well prepared when the girls started that realm of arithmetic.  I was determined to read the headlines of all sections of the paper and pick at least one artcile per section to read.  In the end, all of these things felt like work and were quickly discarded.

I found myself thumbing through my planner and came across a hastily scrawled list I had made — a bucket list.   One of the items read “to be fluent in French”.  I am a francophile through and through and realized, maybe this was the way I could stretch those synapses.  See,  I started taking French lessons when I was in the third grade. When I graduated from high school, it was with solid marks in AP French.  Foolish girl that I was, I figured, I’d put my time in with foreign languages, so I opted out of French class in college.  What could have been a collegiate cake-walk was replaced with things like Geology 101, Cultural Anthropology and African History from 1800 to the present (a class where I basically pumped in information long enough to regurgitate it back into a blue book for the midterm and final).

But, back to French.  I’ve toyed with getting Rosetta Stone program, but can never pull the trigger with that.  I’ve thought about enrolling in some classes at the university down the street, but like I said, my free time comes in snatches and I have yet to find an academic program — not even an online one — that allows you to work in non-consecutive snippets of 12-17 minutes.  I thought about hiring a tutor, but as it turned out, the girls were the ones who received the instruction.  That actually worked out well, though, because their introductory lessons served as a great review for me.  I could sprinkle fruits, vegetables, colors and numbers into our daily dialogue without it seeming like work for any of us.

The tutors lasted for a while, until we relocated several years ago.  The pursuit of bi-lingualism remained sidelined as I picked up kettle-bells, the girls tried lacrosse, soccer, swimming and gymnastics.  Ultimately, life got in the way. I unearthed some French language books, Googled Berlitz classes and bought some sing-a-long French CDs for the car in several failed attempts to kick my own butt into gear.  Several false starts before I stumbled upon this website called Duolingo.  I can’t even remember how I learned about it — must have read it in a magazine or something — but basically, it’s an online program that allows you to work in non-consecutive snippets of time.  Whenever you can, wherever you can, just practice.  You start with the basics and work your way up.  You strengthen certain vocabulary sets.  You type, you repeat, you translaste from English to French or French to English.  You can use a timer or go at your own pace.  It’s exactly what I needed.  I can see my progress because before, when I would speak French, I would always forget the word that would actually make the sentence make sense.  Ask me about colors, days of the week, time, animals, I’m your girl all day every day.  Ask me about anything else? It was the same “Uh. . .wait. . .what’s the word I’m looking for?”Or more like “Uh, un moment, s’il vous plaît. J’ai oublié ce que je veux dire.” 

In any event, I’m progressing nicely and have found a great motivator in The Hubs. He signed up to brush up on his Spanish.  Now we battle it out to see who has the longest s practice streak.  He recently unlocked the flirting module and is walking around saying some pretty blush inducing Spanish phrases.  Not to be outdone, I motored through adverbs and conjunctions so that I could spit out some hokey Chez vous où chez moi? type of flirtations.  Some things translate verbatim, some things sound much more romantic or sexy in another language  and others (I wish I were cross-eyed so I could look at you twice) just sound ridiculous no matter the language.

I’m determined to keep practicing online, on my iPad, and hopefully with some other French speakers when the opportunities present themselves.  I’m going to push out all that useless information (Mimi and Niko and a shower rod, anything Kardashian related, and who won season 7 of DWTS — it was Brooke Burke Charvet. You’re welcome) and parler le français sans problem!

What about you? Are you multi-lingual? Would you like to be?

 

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IN: ON: April 24, 2014 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
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