Great Pink Tissue Pom-Poms of Fire

Continuing my life theme of having zero original ideas, my friend, Amy, and I stole several from the Hostess for a whimsical garden baby shower.

We can't wait to meet baby Harper in a month and since she has an older brother, we decided it had better be pretty girly.

Actually, I'm not even sure what a whimsical garden is, but it sounded good.

Whenever I see pictures of cute pregnant people, like Harper's mom, Kari, I want to superimpose my head over theirs and create a photo album featuring myself as a cute pregnant girl instead of the Impossibly Gigantic Neanderthal Theme my body chose to embrace.

Oh, and by the way, since I hate uploading pictures (may have mentioned it a time or two) these are in no particular order...just be glad they're all here.

This was my favorite...the outdoor concession stand on the deck:

Have you seen those adorable found wooden Coca-Cola crates? One might be tempted think they're a bargain at $24, but I got mine for FREE right out of my mom's garage.

GO MOM! THREE CHEERS FOR SAVING JUNK FOR ME!!!!

We drank (I don't hang out with "sippers") out of these adorable mini-canning jars, wrapped up with ribbon.

Probably the best part of the decor were the tissue pom-poms. They are a great Martha Stewart invention, found at Michael's, shamelessly copied from every other blog out there.

Note how beautifully and non-fiery they seem. (I'll get to that in a minute.)

The hummingbird cupcakes (and most importantly, the cream cheese frosting) were fab.

And the brownies weren't too bad, either.

Amy made these amazing skewers covered in Oreo dirt. YUM.

And lastly, here is the scene looking into the kitchen before the tissue poms caught ablaze.

Amy already blogged the wild sequence of events so beautifully, but here's my two cents anyway.

After the shower, as I leaned with my back to the island, the largest, light pink tissue pom apparently dropped from the sky and landed on a votive candle.

Turning around, we couldn't help but notice it was en fuego in a big way.

Not like a cute little smoldering s'more.

More like a gigantic pink tissue puff with huge orange flames in my very kitchen.

Here is my thought sequence for the following 30 seconds, that actually seemed like 30 minutes:

I'm going to stomp out the flaming pink puff.

No!

Brad will be upset about the hardwood floors.

And I'm wearing amazing gold flip flops and white pants--they'll singe!

Outside.

I'll take the puff with ever-growing flames outside.

No!

I'm pretty sure a wood deck is highly flammable.

That would be bad.

To the sink!

I don't think stainless steel burns.

We'll find out and see.

(At this point, with all of the waving around of the tissue puff like a Chinese dragon, and lack of coherent and immediate decision-making, the air had fueled the fire and flames were huge. A literal fireball.)

(Also, the smoke alarms were going off throughout the house and I was screaming for Brad, who was upstairs in the playroom).

I got out the sprayer and, with ashes flying, sprayed that puff right out.

Amy had bravely dashed outside to grab the cute green pitcher and was going to dump approximately eight remaining ounces of water on the puff to douse the flames.

Luckily, I had extinguished it with the ferocious vegetable sprayer and things were calming down.

(Other than the smoke and alarms, which were still sounding loudly.)

At this point, Amy and I were laughing so hard that we couldn't talk. 

Couldn't breathe. 

Couldn't even stand up straight.

So, of course, this is the time Brad arrived on the scene.

Alarms were piercing, smoke filled the kitchen, and Amy and I couldn't even explain ourselves or much less speak to him.

For at least five minutes.

Then, when Amy noticed the black ash on my face and clothes, things started all over again.

Brad just jumped right in and laughed with us, thinking, "My sweet, lovable, and occasionally careless wife is at it again."

Um, no.

He was running around waving towels, trying to get the smoke outside, attempting to make the alarms stop, and continually asking us what on earth happened.

Unfortunately, we still couldn't speak...due to the laughter and all.

The kicker was the next day at the gym, when I was retelling the story to a friend who had been at the shower, but luckily, left before her life was jeopardized.

At which point, she noticed a significant lack of arm hair on my right arm.

I am a hairy wildebeast, so I actually considered this a blessing in disguise.

Unfortunately, it's a little bit patchy and my other arm could be made into a wig.

But still.

After a few natural home disasters...flood, avalanche, hail, and fire...I'm just wondering what's next.

And Brad is considering buying a trailer for himself and the kids to live in out front.

4th of July Remix

As you can tell by our hats, we are devoted Rockies fans...

...but that didn't stop us from enjoying the most amazing fireworks I've ever seen from on the field.

 And I know you've been waiting with baited (bated?) breath to see the barrettes:

We loved the parade with our old Highlands Ranch gang:

Lilly and Lainey do the Target shirt proud:

I don't have pictures of the torrential rains and monsoon-like downpour that happened during our church picnic.

But I can safely say that my bones are still chilled from the extreme cold that I will never forget.

Instead, I choose to remember the blue skies and happier times...

Super Mario Bros--Birthday Edition

I've been putting off blogging about Jackson's party because:

a) it would require admitting we didn't actually have the party until 7 weeks after his real birthday

b) I'd rather run naked down the highway than upload pictures to blogger

and 

c) I am lazy.

But I am stranded in the Wichita, Kansas airport for what is unfolding to be the rest of my life, so I might as well get 'er done.

So hey! We did it!!!

Jackson wanted a Super Mario theme and I'm all about making (inexpensive) dreams come true.

Before we get into the nitty gritty details, I think it should be stated that this party was planned a mere 24 hours in advance.

The party was scheduled to be held Saturday at 10 a.m.

Friday morning at 5 a.m., I awoke in a very hot, sweaty, wet, panicky sweat and realized I had a lot to do and 29 hours in which to do it.

{insert more panic and irrational hysterics}

So I headed to my arch-nemesis, Wal-Mart, and found everything I needed (including workout tops for $7.)

((Shopping Tip #1: You should never focus so much on the task at hand that you miss a bargain.))

Oh, and one more thing...this will probably seem really random if you haven't watched or played hours of Mario Kart...but just go with me.

What do you think of the Chomp Chain and Pirhana Plants?

They were handcrafted from a soccer ball pinata and some styrofoam balls.

Remember this sweet, ginormous cupcake from Lilly's 4th birthday?

It also works fabulously as a 1Up mushroom!

I also made a cake that resembles {cough} the screen from the original Mario Bros. 

Riding on top is Mario in the Kart that I begged and pleaded for at Game Stop. (long story)

When the peeps arrived, they built all kinds of MarioKarts with legos. I'm sure it wasn't distracting that most of the legos are Star Wars and Indiana Jones themed.

Oh, and of course, there were mini 1UP cupcake appetizers.

Next, Party Dad explained the plan.

Game 1: Pop the TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY balloons we blew up in less than 29 hours and gather the coins.

{We used an air compressor, but STILL. My fingertips were nubs from all the tying.}

Next up...King Boo! 

The exciting party game of Corn Hole transformed into the spectacular King Boo bean bag toss.

Jackson came up with the next game...the Soda Spray. (Apparently there is a Mario Party mini game that involves spraying soda cans for height.)

Brad and I used nails to make teeny openings in the cans...

...then the boys shook them up...

...and sprayed away.

I'm sure you've already figured this out, but 13 boys spraying 2 or 3 cans of Lemon Lime Wonder Drink each created an incredible sheen in my hair that was both sticky and beautiful.

Finally, we rescued Princess Peach.

I think this game goes by "Steal the Bacon" in most schoolyards.

We divided the kids into teams and assigned them Mario character names.

If you've ever been around first grade boys, then you know they couldn't remember if they were Luigi or Donkey Kong.

I think I'm going to collect beat-up Barbies and market them for the Rescue Princess Peach Game! 

I'm sure they will sell like hotcakes since there are very few mangled Barbies in homes across America.

These next few pictures showcase what I love best about Jackson...and remind me that he is all boy.

He loves playing games and being with friends.

He likes walks in the park and fires on the beach.

He is tough as nails and is known as "The Cute Enforcer."

And cleans himself with his own saliva.

Coming to eHarmony soon...

Alrighty...if you're still reading, here is the Big 7 year-old with his cake. This is the chocolate one (the mushroom was pound cake) because he is a chocoholic. 

Jackson, we love you!! 29 hours of panic and planning was more than worth it to see your smiles, big eyes, and downright bliss as you enjoyed your party.

Next year, our theme is going to be "watch a really long movie and make creative concotions from whatever is already in the pantry."

Grand New Cheap Painted Flag

Well, this post has been in the works since Flag Day in June, which I know everyone celebrated with great fanfare and revelry.

But since I have been busy corralling the entire neighborhood and their dietary needs, blogging hasn't been at the forefront of my priorities.

But since July 4th is on the horizon, I get another chance to showcase my lackluster copycat skills.

I *love* the Fourth of July with all of my heart. 

The patriotic clothing (good, bad, and even tacky), parades, food, fireworks, and baseball games simply rock.

It is like the perfect storm of activity, delicousness, and fashion all rolled in ONE DAY. 

For the last several years, we've kicked off the fun on July 3rd with a Rockies game (don't worry, I don't actually cheer for them), followed by a trip onto the field to watch an amazing fireworks show. 

Last year we ingested enough ash and shrapnel (including some actual firework chunks) that I'll be bringing surgical masks this year.

But anyway...on to less important things:

Don't know if y'all have seen this goodness from Pottery Barn, but I'd been thinking about it for awhile.

Um, ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY NINE DOLLARS American money?!?!?

That is just for the insane.

So of course, I set out to paint my own.

Piece of plywood: $0--found in basement

Craft paint: 69 cents

Star stencil: $2

And, that brings our total to $2. 69.

Obviously, I can't pretend that it's anywhere near the artistic quality of PB, but for $126.31 cheaper than advertised, I'll trade a little quality for CASH.

Brad decided the only way to hang it (on our deck...looks fab) was to screw it into the house.

So, we may have falling roof tiles, a faulty A/C system, basement floods, and patchy grass, but at least when we sell the house, it will include a cheap plywood flag.

I'm in Love

Have you ever woken up in the morning and thought, "I cannot possibly go ANOTHER DAY with a plain glass cake stand on my counter top?

It must be painted before I a) eat, b) shower, c) go crazy."

I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks like that.

Now the bounty of chocolate chip cookies can calmly rest beneath the canopy of polka dots and monogramming.

And hopefully they'll stop bugging me about decorating their home.

I HATE HAIL

Our first day of summer vacation started out like this:

Filled with joy and expectation, the kids inhaled monkey bread and started brainstorming a list of summer excitement, complete with check boxes, ensuring that we complete each and every activity.

{I have no idea how I'm going to accommodate Lilly's desire for the beach.}

All by 7:15 a.m.

After lunch, the kids loaded in the car for our first exciting stop: The Local Library.

{I just like to keep things unpredictable and exotic around here.}

Faintly, I heard the gentle whirr of a tornado siren. Being that tornadoes have been unwelcome guests at the local mall recently, and out of vanity for my vehicle, I decided we should stay home.

Two minutes later, this was the scene:

Fabulous.

Don't mind the welcome mat covered in hail.

My precious Nanny took a beating, too.

If you'll recall, Spring Snowstorm 2009! took out my patio table in April.

And Severe June Hail Catastrophe That Raised My Blood Pressure threatened the remaining chairs. 

And my plants.

My poor, poor plants.

I'm not yet in a place where I can really talk about it.

Those were snapdragons. And dusty miller (whatever that is.) And long green filler shoots for height.

And they were blooming.

Um, were. If gangly looking stalks with holey leaves become fashionable, I will be featured in Southern Living.

My children were SCREAMING, begging to pray, inquiring about death, and darting for the basement.

My tears, however, were focused on the temporal vanity of my plants.

I had just set a personal best record for keeping live things around here (other than my children and that is questionable at best) and the flowers were GORGEOUS. Fo' real.

Now they are heinous.

Fo' real.

Y'all, this hail chipped paint off of my chairs and front door. 

Oh, so this is where I think I'm supposed to mention that I'm glad the kids and I were safe.

But I am too upset about the plants to say much yet.

Oh, and happy summer!

Work in Progress

So I was inspired by this and this to go a little nuts with my office.

For awhile now, I've been staring at my Restrained Gold office walls, wondering what they need to make them a little bit more. More what, I didn't really know.

More interesting, more chaotic, more meaningful, more me.

We've only lived in this house for 2 years, but that hasn't stopped me from repainting, redecorating, reaccessorizing, and most certainly NOT reorganizing the house several times.

Because that is what I do.

{Please don't ask for any important documents without giving 3 weeks notice and 21 reminder calls.}

Several years ago, I (and most importantly, Brad), realized that creating and changing living spaces is just something I do.

Honestly, it gives me oxygen.

Staring at the same arrangement of the same furniture and the same frames and the same colors makes me start shaking from the inside out.

It's not about buying new or expensive things (see love of junk here or here), it's about repurposing, salvaging, and using what I already have in new ways.

Rarely am I original, but frequently I am resourceful.

I crack myself up when I feel God's glory in the mundane...in the creativeness and satisfaction I get from finding a door in the garbage or carefully recombining decorative crap from the basement that makes me smile and pause when I pass the family room.

Eric Liddell, of "Chariots of Fire" fame, said he felt God's pleasure when he ran.

Now, I am fully aware that it sounds slightly ridiculous for a suburban housewife to say she feels God's pleasure when she shops at garage sales, spray paints things, and hangs them to the walls with her glue gun, but...I do.

I really do.

I'm not Monet, I'm not Martha Stewart, I'm not even The Nester.

My gifts aren't that outstanding, that glamorous, that noteworthy.

They are small and only questionably, "gifts."

But they were given to me by the Creator.

He reminds me daily that I am made in His image.

And that includes creative messiness, as well as order.

Change as well as stability.

Silliness as well as sincerity.

I realize that creating a warm and inviting living space is not essential for life.

It really isn't. It's gravy.

I realize that we need bread and water to survive.

Not double chocolate peanut butter cookies and s'mores bars.

But for whatever reason, I feel complete joy in expressing comfort and love through these very things.

So anyway, back to the wall.

To most, it is random. It wasn't assembled by a designer, measured by an mathematician, and those frames certainly weren't hung by an engineer.

{In all honesty, there was no measuring, no rulers, and there are enough holes in the wall that our neighbors can probably read this over my shoulder without binoculars.}

But when I get close, when I look into the faces, the buildings, the papers on display, my throat clenches for just a second before each and every one.

My babies.

My family.

My husband.

My marathon.

Food.

Wrigley Field (no explanation on teariness needed).

Values.

{Or lack thereof.}

But my favorite aspect of The Wall is the middle.

On an old corkboard, that I painted with chalkboard paint, that I glued into a cheap frame, that broke while we were trying to hang it, that is liable to crash off the wall at any second due to shoddy workmanship, lies the song of my life.

The phrases, the verses, the Words, with which my Creator holds me.

My heart jostles each time I read the words that, while familiar, present power, grace, and freshness.

I love that they are the center of this explosion. 

This tiny little tribute is to the Creator...and to his grace in allowing me to savor the simple tastes and sights of this temporary world.

Despite the reality that I'm messy and busy and careless and forgetful.

So maybe that is why I love glue guns and spray paint--they make the old and battered new again and breathe life into the worn down.

And they remind me that all creativity is really His.