Sunday, June 24, 2012

Eew! What's that in your beard?!

Roald Dahl, the man who write Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, has a cookbook.

No good can come from this, you say? You don't know the half of it.

To wit, I give you Mr. Twit's Beard:

EEW!

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Help! My kid is turning into a surly teenager!

Oh. My. God. It's official.
EVERYTHING I SAY IRRITATES MY KID. Yes, he's 12, going on 13, and it's starting in earnest. My approach is:

"I understand that you're irritated." (Wait for yelling to stop.)
"I understand that you can't change the way you feel." (Wait for yelling to stop.)
"But you will change the way you behave or you'll be seeing a lot of your room in the next six years. Understand?"

I know, irritating, but I don't know what else to do. Besides actually follow through on the threat.

Ooh. I just tried it. He said, "No." Then he whined softly. We'll see how it goes. Past that, I'd take any advice you all have!

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Dr. Livingston, I presume...

In a fit of insanity this morning, I took the kids to IKEA. Why is it that every time I leave that store, I feel as if I'd been on a two-week safari in Africa? I stumble out into the light and sink gratefully into the soft, welcoming driver's seat of my car.

The goal is to make this:


out of this Kivik sofa and his buddies:
Well, sort of. We've identified it as "Mid-Century Modern", and I had already decided to use the grid of square frames before I realized what the style was called. We're putting up reproductions of Florida citrus crate labels in  big square black frames. My grandmother worked at one of the plants in Eustis as a young woman, so it's kind of cool for us. All I need now is a funky lamp that the kids can't destroy. Wish me luck.


Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Is it a bad sign...?

... that when I'm looking for a few glass beads for an impromptu craft project, I know which couch to find them in? And don't ask how long they've been there. ;)

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Bongos please...

My sweet girl-child has started spontaneously writing beat poetry. At least that's what I'm thinking it is.

Allenn Ginsberg, eat your heart out.