Three things:

Firstly, I hope you had a lovely Christmas!

Secondly, I combined my “me” blog with our house blog. That way there’s not a bunch of craziness going on. Mostly so I don’t forget that I had a house blog (this one), a me blog, and a furniture blog. Basically, what I’m trying to tell you is that I won’t be posting on this anymore and that if you want to still follow all of our house ish you can find it here: It’s the one with a picture like this:

Thirdly, thanks for reading this blog all of the time. I hope to see you over at City Chick to Country Chic!


No Country for Old Men

Today the first few hours of my morning consisted of its usual routine: waking up, being mom-ish, taking pictures, going hiking with my siblings/baby in the pack, and being in a general state of awesome.

I went outside to cut some goldenrod I found and came across a three foot long black snake. Now, if you remember, we had a pretty big snake living in our house. I think it died in the attic from eating poison mice or escaped. I never showed you the scary picture I took of it trying to leave:

Anyway, this snake was not the same snake, or maybe it was, but I stared at it for a good forty seconds trying to decide whether to let it live and chance it making home in my house, or chopping it’s head off with my herb scissors. Ultimately, I chose the latter.


I’m tired of finding critters in my house. Like the garden snake I found the other day. Sorry, no picture of that. One of the reasons I loved Big Blue was because she scared all the “things” away. Sigh. Oh well. Turns out this is no country for old men. Or squeamish little girls.

The Outside

{phlogging} Sad things happened this week…well just one sad thing for us mostly. Our mastador, (black lab/mastiff) Big Blue, got run over by a truck and died. Sad face. But even though we miss her she is now safe in doggie heaven.

Also, I don’t know if you remember all the trash on the sides of our house…but I do. Guess what: it’s all cleaned up now!! A neighbor let us borrow a bobcat and My Honeypie got it all picked up and in the trash pile in the back. You should see it. It have to be cleaned after we burn it…it’s like we have our own dump yard.










This poor little blog has been neglected, but not forgotten! Here is why:

I gave birth!

El Bebe is now a month old. Yay!

I also started a business with a company called Isagenix. I’m so stoked to work when I want, wherever I want, and with whoever I want!

Now. The house. Not neglected or forgotten. Here’s what’s up:


Kitchen/Dining Room

4th Bedroom

Dining Room to Kitchen

Downstairs bathroom

Other view

Other living room

Bedroom 1


It’s not all insulated yet, but it is progress!

and tomorrow we will be getting Sheetrock.




If All the Raindrops

…were lemon drops and gum drops oh, what a rain that would be!

I’ve been whistling that song all day today and I don’t know why…and that’s the only part I could remember. So I looked up they lyrics. Who knew there was more than one verse?!

If all the raindrops were lemondrops and gumdrops
Oh, what a rain that would be.
Standing outside with my mouth open wide,

Ah ah-ah Ah ah-ah Ah ah-ah

If all the raindrops were lemondrops and gumdrops
Oh, what a rain that would be.

If all the snowflakes were candy bars and milkshakes
Oh, what a snow that would be.
Standing outside with my mouth open wide,

Ah ah-ah Ah ah-ah Ah ah-ah

If all the snowflakes were candy bars and milkshakes
Oh, what a snow that would be.

If all the sunbeams were bubble gum and ice cream
Oh, what a sun that would be.
Standing outside with my mouth open wide.

Ah ah-ah Ah ah-ah Ah ah-ah

If all the sunbeams were bubble gum and ice cream
Oh, what a sun that would be.

Sigh. I just love that song. Weird, right?

Anyway, I made some of these that I am going to print once we have our house finished.


I might make a color form of this. Probably yes.


This one I made mostly so I can print it off for Christmas and have a little winter somethin' something in our basement.

I’ll probably have to make a black and white one so it can be all matchy-matchy with the others.

Be warned: I got a little Picnik crazy on the next verse.

Sun beams:

Yellow, Orange, and Red!

Blue and Yellow!

Pink and Blue and Yellow!

Sometimes I have a little too much time on my hands.

Love and Prophecy Pancakes

…yes. About that. Yesterday My Honeypie and I made pan-ke-kes (pancakes) for breakfast. I was so excited because I thought they tasted *so g00d*. So when we were at my sister’s house for dinner with my family I told them excitedly, “guesswhatweateforbreakfast?!LEMONPOPPYSEEDPANCAKES!!”

My mom looked at me like this >< and basically thought I said, “Love and prophecy pancakes” Hence the name was born: Love and Prophecy Pancakes=lemon poppy seed pancakes. (I hope I got the story mostly right. I know I was there for the whole thing, but I can’t remember stuff sometimes. I blame it on BBC eating my brain fat.)

One day I found this recipe for whole wheat pancakes and I was like, “Whole wheat…gross.” I printed it off anyway just in case I felt like being super healthy or something. So far I haven’t. Anyway, I used that recipe as a guide to make Love and Prophecy pancakes.

Here is what I ended up with:

2 cups all-purpose flour
4 1/2 tsp baking powder
2 tsp sugar
1 1/2 cups milk
2 large eggs
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
2 tbs of lemon juice
1 1/2 tsp poppy seed

Mix everything up in the order above. Then add water if you want to reach desired thin-ness. I think I ended up adding a third cup of water. I didn’t measure that though…sorry!Then cook them like you cook normal pancakes.

We ate them with strawberries, whipped cream, and strawberry syrup. So good!

picture: not so good. don't let it fool you!!

Picky and Picnik

So turns out our windows won’t be done until this Wednesday…We will be picking them up on Thursday! We hope 🙂

On a different note, I forced my little sisters to do a photo shoot with me. I can take decent pictures of “stuff”, but I need much more practice with people. The pictures are all edited differently because I’m playing around with this photo editing site called Picnik.  It’s pretty much a super simple, way cheaper version of Photoshop. I really like it because when it comes to Photoshop I’m completely challenged. Plus, it’s free! *or you can pay to upgrade. whatev.

Sneak attack picture!

I know that these are far from perfect (like the above picture–totally a weed in the middle of her face!)…but practice makes perfect, right?

Anyway, you can also do sweet stuff like this on Picnik too:

I tried doing that on Photoshop and it was a total bust. I love these little art thingys! I find quotes that I really like that have already been made into these little subway art pieces, but they aren’t exactly what I want…like this:

Super cute, but not what I'm looking for you know?

But now I can make it exactly how I want! Like so:

This is totally going on the wall in our entry way once our house is done.

Family Values sign by Betty Crocker Wannabe

and I’m all like, “Cute!” but it doesn’t have everything I want. I told you, I’m picky. With Picnik I made this:

It’s just how my picky self wants it! Yay for Picnik!

My Plea to Emma Watson.

I’ve been seeing this picture posted all over my news feed on Facebook:

and I’m all like, “What is this about?” Basically, in an interview, she said this:

“I find this whole thing about being 18 and everyone expecting me to be this object..I find the whole concept of being ‘sexy’ embarrassing and confusing.

If I do a photo-shoot people desperately want to change me – dye my hair blonder, pluck my eyebrows, give me a fringe.

Personally, I don’t actually think it’s even that sexy. What’s sexy about saying, ‘I’m here with my boobs out and a short skirt…have a look at everything I’ve got’? My idea of sexy is that less is more. The less you reveal the more people can wonder.”

I thought, “how neat; that such an icon for young girls (and a surprising amount of women) would say something like that! How wonderful for them to hear from someone so lovely that “sexy” is not only covering yourself up, but it’s “embarrassing and confusing”. (This is totally how I feel when I get hollered at in the Wal-Mart parking lot. Classy? Sexy? I think no!)

Then I kept reading the article…and I died a little bit. She goes on to say:

“I might be willing to take my clothes off for a Bertolucci film, if it was a part that really made sense as part of my character.”

Wut? No!! I don’t even know what or who a Bertolucci film is (I’m so kewl), but he/it can’t be so phenomenal that you’d just, you know, take your clothes off because it “made sense as part of your character.” Why?!

People like who you are now. Like you said in your interview, you’re not just getting your “kit” off for anyone. Don’t take it off for everyone.

So here is my simple plea in behalf of all those who look up to you as a role model: Stay classy, Ms. Watson, and keep your clothes on. Please!

Hear Me Roar!

This goes along with yesterday’s post. A parent by definition is “a protector or guardian.” Let’s break it down even more; a protector is one who protects or defends. Think of a mother bear and her cubs in potential danger.

You think you're going out dressed like that?! Think again, sista!


A guardian is a person who preserves. To preserve something means to keep safe from harm or injury; to protect or spare. See below:

Notice how mama is all up in their business and looking around. These little cubs seem pretty alert, but not all cubs are. Like this little cub:

Totally taking a snoozer, but the mom is business. Come at her kid, see what happens.

So basically our job as parents is to keep our children safe from harm or injury, whether that injury is physical, emotional, or mental. We need to do everything within our own ability to set up boundaries for our children regardless of what other parents are doing. Values people!

Bringing Classy Back

This has nothing to do with remodeling, redecorating, or designing anything. Kind of…I just had an epiphany that it sort of does: Remodeling our children. This post though is more specifically our girls.

Yeah, I’m not a parent yet, but I still have opinions on parenting. Maybe that isn’t allowed. Regardless, I still have them. Today is one of those days where I’m all like, “Are you for real right now?” and yes. It’s for real.

Let me begin:

How is it okay to let our daughters walk around like mini-hookers? So what if they are pretty—they look like strumpets in their frilly miniskirts and disco off the shoulder tops, with their glitter blue eye shadow and their fishnets and their boots. Even if she happens to be wearing tights with her black leather mini, neon leopard top and heels, guess what? You can see through tights. and she better not bend over or everything is going to come tumbling out.

If my daughter walked out of the house looking like some hungover rock-star chic (sorry Ke$ha) I would pray I was blind and deaf and that I had no accountability for what she wore. The thing is the majority of parents out there aren’t blind. Are you lazy? Scared? Do you honestly not care that I can pretty much see your daughter’s butt cheeks hanging out of her skirt as she walks away? You should be ashamed. I’m ashamed just looking in her general direction.

I’m a 23 year old Misses (Like, Mrs.). Saying woman makes me feel old, but my age clearly states that I can no longer claim the title of “girl.” I would say lady, but I feel I’m just a few notches short of classy to be called a lady. (I mean have you heard me speak?)  I must admit I wore a miniskirt once, and it only took those few hours to make me feel cheap, vulnerable, and gross. (If my parents are reading this, they probably just puked in their own mouths). That one time was after I had moved away from my parent’s house, and there was no way in this universe I would have ever left the house wearing a miniskirt. For good reason. No, I didn’t get hollered at, no one honked when I walked by, and no one tried to rape me. Instead, I got totally eye-groped. It was uncomfortable and I hated it. From that moment I never wore a miniskirt, or even short skirt again. My body is mine fool, back off. From that I gained a few ounces of self-respect.

Why on earth would we allow our daughters to dress in a fashion where they could potentially feel like a toy? Why would we, as parents, pay for the trash they are wearing? Why would we allow our sons to date girls who dressed like they were working the night shift on the corner?  We are parents, not best friends. We are mentors, not sidekicks. We are the bosses, not the interns.

It is possible to be pretty and appealing as opposed to pretty and sleazy. Let’s bring classy back people and teach our daughters (and ourselves) some self-respect.


Put some clothes on.