Shoes, Glorious Shoes

I went on a Crusade yesterday, to find a nice pair of comfy black sandals. I wanted some that would hold up to some serious walking, since I’ll be in San Francisco on Tuesday. Most of my sandals have been worn to the point where you can separate the soles. Not so good.

Last night I was meeting a good friend for dessert, and we chose to meet at the Tyson’s Corner Galleria where they have some nice restaurants. I arrived early and decided to window shop and hopefully find some good shoe sales.

If you’ve never been to the Galleria, let’s just say that it is the Mecca of shopping. We’re talking Prada and Ferragamo shoes. The kind where each shoe needs a personal security system. I don’t know if you’re like me, but inevitably I spy a pair of super-cute shoes and go to check them out.

$450.

How is it possible? Now, maybe they are the most rockin’ shoes in the universe, but $450? Dang, those shoes had better come with built-in massagers. And those soles had better be made of platinum. So I dropped those shoes pretty fast and decided that, er…maybe this wasn’t the right store for me.

Note to self: One day, when I hit a bestseller list, I might buy a pair of shoes like that. But then again, I’m a practical girl. More likely I’d use that $450 for a plane ticket somewhere cool…like Ireland.

I wandered up to the third floor of the Galleria and found another store with a 60% off sale. Now we’re talking. Once again, I found pairs of plane-ticket shoes, but the sale rack wasn’t too bad. But even when a pair of $195 shoes is marked down to $99, you have to ask yourself–am I really going to wear these? Am I going to get that much use out of them? And is the white stitching on black leather really that distracting?

In the end, I put them back. Just couldn’t bring myself to spend the money, even though they truly were comfortable. So today, I’m going to another mall and will hopefully find something more reasonable in price and still cushy for my big old feet (size 10). Ack. Something that doesn’t look like I strapped surf boards onto my feet.

So here’s a question. Let’s say that you had the money where you could drop $500 on a pair of shoes without even missing the money. Would you do it?

Berry Picking in the Summertime

I meant to take my camera while we went berry picking, but forgot. Anyway, this morning, we packed the kids (minus the baby) in the car and drove to a local orchard to pick our own berries. We picked blackberries that were the size of large grapes. It was the perfect day for them, since literally, I could stand in one place and almost fill my bucket. I could hardly believe how many there were. Both kids had their own baskets, and they skipped around from place to place, picking berries and exalting when they found new ones. Since we finished so early, we went ahead and picked raspberries, too.

There weren’t as many raspberries, but since we arrived so early in the morning, we still found a few. However, the bees were everywhere around the raspberries. It didn’t bother me at all, but my bug-hating son was not at all happy. I tried to convince him that a few bees never hurt anyone and they weren’t even diving toward us, but he didn’t believe me at all.

Son: They’re just waiting to sting me. They’re just waiting for me to reach my hand over.

Me: They are not going to sting you. Look, they aren’t even bothering me at all.

Son: Well, they’re going to bother me. I know it. They’re going to sting me.

Me: Have you ever been stung before?

Son: No, but I know these bees are going to.

Conspiratorial bees. Too funny. In any event, we made blackberry pie today and we set the raspberries aside to use over vanilla ice cream. Mmmm… I’m trying to think of something I could use the raspberries for, besides jam or just for eating. I don’t recall them baking particularly well. Have you ever used raspberries in baking? What’s your favorite way to eat them?

Sparkly Bling-bling

I’m still in the process of packing my bags for San Francisco for the Romance Writers of America National Conference, and once again, I’ve hit that stage where I question whether I have everything. An hour ago, I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t packed any jewelry to wear with the fancy dresses. My Grandma gave me some vintage necklaces that are sparkly and fun to wear. They’re just costume jewels, but it’s nice to have an occasion to dress up. I’m channeling my daughter right now, with the princessy stuff.

Really, though, my husband got off easy. On the whole, I don’t wear a lot of jewelry. I wear my wedding rings, a pair of earrings, and the occasional watch. It’s not often that I wear a necklace, and I tend to go for the pearls or something fairly classic. I’ve never felt the urge to go out and buy jewelry. I’d much rather have books. Then again, perhaps my book budget rivals other women’s jewelry budgets.

What’s your favorite, must-have piece of jewelry? Do you like sparkly stones? Gold or silver? I’m a gold girl, myself.

Photograph Updates

I think all of the photographs are now uploaded into the photo gallery. You can click on the menu, or here to access them. Hope the loading speed works well. I have a lot of Ireland pictures, along with some medieval research photos. I’m hoping that the program will allow me to add captions, but for now, you can browse around. I haven’t added any more RWA photographs because I’ll be traveling there next week. I’ll add them in, after I get back.

Enjoy!

Mom, make them stop!

My oldest son and daughter are two years apart in age. I don’t know if any other parents will agree with me, but there are benefits and disadvantages to having two kids. You go through a period of shock when the workload is doubled and you’re trying to juggle a new baby with an older sibling. You think, How in the world am I going to do this? There’s no schedule. Things are crazy, and you wonder why you ever agreed to this.

But then comes a magical moment, when they’re both toddlers. One day, the craziness gets better and something amazing happens: They start playing together. And, oh joy! Oh rapture! You can actually start getting things done because they are happily entertaining each other. It’s amazing.

Until the fighting starts.

One minute, everything is daisies and happy faces. And the next, they’re at each other’s throats. Call it rivalry, call it competition, but man oh man, when they love each other, they will hate each other with the same fierceness. Yesterday, I was in the kitchen. The baby was playing with tupperware and a wooden spoon while the older two were in the living room sitting in a chair together. It started innocent, with them giggling and my daughter sitting on my son’s lap. Then it broke into playful wrestling and each of them trying to take over the chair. The next thing I knew, I heard the cries of: “He hit me!” and “Mom, she bit me!”

Yes, my darling daughter decided to fight dirty and broke the skin. Gotta say, she picked a pretty vicious spot, too, the skin below the armpit. Ouch. So she got sent to time-out until dinner while I iced and put neosporin on my wounded son. He played out the role to the hilt, whimpering that he couldn’t cut his meat because he had to hold the ice pack on his shoulder.

I sent my daughter to bed right after supper, and although she did apologize numerous times to my son, I suspect that she’s just the kind of girl who will do whatever it takes to win a fight. And Lord help anyone who tries to hurt her brothers (and vice versa).

Did you fight with your brothers and sisters when you were growing up? Did you ever draw blood?

Overheard Upstairs

My daughter was happily singing and washing her hair when I overheard the following ditty.

Lord God, Ham of God, you take away the sins of the world
Have mercy on the bus…**

Sorry, couldn’t help but share that.

**Real translation: Lord God, Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.**

In other news, I fed the baby his bottle at 4:45 this morning since he would NOT wait any longer. After drinking about 5 ounces, he promptly brought the contents of the aforementioned bottle back up, all over me. And the couch.

Clearly, this is a Monday.

Learning to Crawl and other miscellany

The baby is reaching a stage where he gets bored easily. He no longer likes his exersaucer (baby jail + toys). He really hates his swing and will reach out and grab the bar to stop it from swinging. Even blocks aren’t so entertaining. I was a little wary of dragging out the Fisher Price barn, but honestly, he loved it. He chewed on the animals (which were too large for him to choke on), used the plastic white fence as a teething toy, pushed the animal noise buttons, spun the weather vane…there was so much to play with, that he entertained himself for about half an hour.

He isn’t crawling yet, my poor little beached whale. He rolls onto his stomach and writhes around, wiggling his tush and flailing. Sometimes, if he’s lucky, he can push himself backwards, but in general, he struggles until he gives up and starts howling. I’ve found that the kitchen floor is good for crawling practice since the linoleum has less friction than the carpet. He’ll shove himself backwards until he gets stuck at the dishwasher or the refrigerator.

I am very afraid of the moment when he finally figures it out. My firstborn did the combat crawl when he learned how, at 10 months old. Poor kid looked like he’d been shot in the leg, from the way he used his arms and elbows to haul the rest of his limp body around. Then again, he was almost twenty pounds, and he had a lot of weight to pull. He didn’t crawl in the traditional manner until much later, around a year old.

I think my little man will probably crawl in a matter of weeks. He has the ability, just not the coordination. And when he does…I am so hosed.

My favorite muffins

I have a love affair with muffins. Not those measly, tiny ones, but the fat, cupcakey ones that are bigger than your fist. One of my favorite treats is a hot mug of coffee and a yummy muffin.

It’s a toss up between cranberry-orange and chocolate chip, for which one I like best. I think I may need to go on an Internet recipe quest for the best one. I don’t have any good homemade muffin recipes because usually I get them at the store. Mmmm…must try this.

On a completely different topic, is anyone else watching the Next Food Network Star? I’m rooting for Aaron. Though Lisa might know her food, her camera presence needs work. Adam doesn’t feel quite real to me.

Blackberry Season

Next week, I’m going up to my mom’s, and I want to go blackberry picking. Every summer, it’s something I looked forward to, as a girl. The hot weather, picking juicy blackberries (thornless), finding secret piles of yummy berries, and then baking pies.

Last summer was a travesty. Along with my mom, I took my kids, thinking that it would be a fun way to spend the afternoon. Mistake #1–not bringing sunscreen. It was so incredibly hot, we all got far too much sun. Mistake #2–not bringing water bottles. By the time we were finished, the kids were whiny, uncomfortable, and dying for water. Buying popsicles at the orchard store (aka frozen sugar) helped lift their spirits.

But my son startled me the most. He turned from a helpful, friendly boy into a crazed, raving, bawling child. Why? Because of the bugs. You expect to see gnats, bumblebees, and bugs around berry bushes. Apparently, he thought the insects were out to eat him. I remember him sobbing, “I just want them to all go away! They’re awful!” Oh, did he howl.

Next week, I’ll be better-prepared. We’ll each take a water-bottle, and I’ll hose the kids down with sunscreen. I’ll probably leave the baby home with his grandpa, and I’ve threatened to leave my older son as well (Bug Boy). He debated, saying, “Well, I could probably just use bug spray.” I think he somehow believes that bug spray is like a Jedi force field, zapping any wayward insects away. Um, no.

I’m still on the fence as to whether or not I take him with me. But my daughter? She’s a trooper, as you can see in the photo above. Each time she found a blackberry, she’d chirp, “I found one, Mom!” I have a feeling she’ll enjoy it just as much this year.

And then the real question becomes…blackberry pie or blackberry cobbler? I’m thinking both…

Did you ever go berry picking or fruit picking? What’s your favorite thing to pick?

Make Your Own Pizza Night

My husband is on travel this week, and so I let the kids pick out what they wanted for dinner. Each one got to pick out two meals, and we’re alternating. Last night, my son wanted to have a make-your-own pizza night. Where he got this, I don’t know. Possibly because his mother watches the Food Network ad nauseum.

My good friend Suzanne posted her own pizza dough recipe a few weeks ago, and she really does have some good ideas. However, the idea of kneading bread dough and figuring out how long it has to rise, etc. gives me the heebies. So I made my dough in the breadmaker. That way, there’s a little green light to tell me when it’s done.

The recipe I used was incredibly simple. Combine 1 cup of water, 1 Tablespoon of olive oil, 1 Tablespoon of sugar, 2 1/2 cups of flour, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1 teaspoon of active yeast (don’t use the entire packet–I was tempted to, but I restrained myself. This was a Good Thing.). Throw it all in the breadmaker, click the dough setting, and go off and run errands. It took about an hour and a half, maybe less, for the dough to be finished. You could probably make it ahead of time or throw the ingredients in the breadmaker before going to work, and when you get home, it would be ready to use.

I spread the classified section of the newspaper on the table and waxed paper on top of that. I sprinkled flour on the waxed paper and gave each child a hunk of dough to roll with a rolling pin. They had the best time making their pizza crusts. I preheated the oven to 425 degrees while they played. Then I sprayed non-stick cooking spray on a baking sheet, put their pizza crust on it, and let them choose their toppings. We spread a little spaghetti sauce on the dough, topped it with mozzarella cheese, pepperoni, and whatever else they wanted. Then we baked it for about fifteen minutes. My way of telling when the pizza is done is waiting until the cheese is brown and bubbly. If it’s still white, it’s not done yet. Yes, this is a very scientific method.

I told the kids that if they didn’t like their dinner, it was their own fault. Thankfully, they enjoyed it! You might try this some night if you have time.

Yesterday I stared and smiled at my new book cover a million times. I love, love, love it!