2009 - The End

Our Son1 came home.  Our Little Loo celebrated her third year as a Rocky Mountain Bride.  Our Son2 was a hero to his little girl and us all, slaying more dragons than anyone would want to meet in a lifetime.  Our Son3 joined the workforce, leaving a hole in the home.  Our Son4 stepped into his man-shoes, tightening the slack in the rope around the farm.  Our bammy passed away.  New chicks lived in the living room for 3 weeks, which was 2 weeks longer than they were cute.  I repeatedly prayed my way out of (vociferously) demanding an apology from everyone who voted for Obi.  I developed a compulsive interest in weaving ... which will follow me on January 1^st to my new blog, NottaLotta Acres 2010, as this one ('07-'09) is officially retired.

If you've been following here or visiting here, do make a note of the new location and come along with me, where you can sign-up to follow again or just poke around from time-to-time, when the mood strikes.




Audio Sermon: Examine Yourself by Paul Washer

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.  He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.  He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.  Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.  Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.  Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.  Psalm 23 Amen

She's Gonna Weave

Having stuffed our humble home with mountains (okay, foothills) of fabric and yarn, it seems fitting that I do something to diminish the burgeoning stashes.  I don't knit all that fast, and I seem lately to be allergic to the sewing machine.  So I'm planning to weave.  I'm excited by the prospect and would have opened an Etsy shop by now, but common sense popped up out of nowhere, staying my flying internet fingers, and I'm going to learn first whether or not I can crank out anything more aesthetically pleasing than a clown's nap-mat.  There may just not be that many clowns feeling sleepy, so I shouldn't bother Etsy just yet.  Who is Etsy anyway?  Betsy-Wetsy's younger sister?

So on the heels of the hours of online studying which ate several of my recent days and turned my eyes a lovely, pastel pink, and having said, "Yes, I'm sure you can!" the necessary number of times, my Charles(not) and Son4 have made me a peg loom.  I won't unveil the finished product yet, because A) the stain is still curing so it's unassembled, and B) I want to wait until the first of the year.  But here are the bits:




If you're a US citizen and not all about looms, you might be asking, "What on earth?"  If, however, you're all about looms or live in the UK, this will have looked quite like the bits of a peg loom ... which is not a frame loom, erroneously called a peg loom by some in the US.  Or never mind and whatever.  That's my peg loom, and I'm stickin' to my story.  A couple of pegged frame looms are in my very near future.

That's all.  So I'll weave now.  "Oh?  Where are you going?" ← Newest joke around here.

Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice, ye righteous: and shout for joy, all ye that are upright in heart.  ~Psalm 32:11

Smack the Penguin

Willow sent me this one.  Isn't it great, when your friends know exactly what will bring cheer to your life?

You really must take some time out of your day to SMACK THE PENGUIN.  [Directions: Load the Smack the Penguin site.  Click once to make the penguin leap; click again to make Yeti take a swing.]

Then, it'll complete my cheer, if you post your high scores in the comment section.  I'd offer a prize to the highest scorer, but the only good stuff I have, I won't share.  So whack the bird around, just for the fun of it ... or just because you're so stinking competitive that you MUST beat my own high score: 322.9 feet.  Of course, I only played for about 7 minutes, so if you become addicted to the game and send the penguin to the moon, people may suspect you're a sloth.  What a dilemma, eh?

For a plethora of penguin games, none of the rest of which I've played (so don't blame me if any are ucky), poke → here ← .

A merry heart maketh a cheerful countenance: but by sorrow of the heart the spirit is broken.  ~Proverbs 15:3

Thanksgiving

Praise ye the Lord. O give thanks unto the Lord; for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever.  ~Psalm 106:1 Saying, Amen: Blessing, and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honour, and power, and might, be unto our God for ever and ever. Amen.  ~Revelation 7:12

No-No-No, FedEx

Do not leave a 25 lb. box of almonds on the porch
with a 100 lb. polar bear dog.


Not good.
Well, he thought it was good.
Me?  Notsomuch.

Being enriched in every thing to all bountifulness, which causeth through us thanksgiving to God.  ~II Corinthians 9:11

November Zooing

clickable

And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good. And the evening and the morning were the sixth day.  ~Genesis 1:31

Just for Laughs

I ran into this over at Paid in Full and fully surprised myself, when I poked the button to view, especially since I thought I was going to watch a 7-minute film on hunting.  I can't think of a reason to watch even a 1-minute film on hunting, so I must have been having a fullblowncuckoo moment when I poked that button.  Sorry.

Roll film, and it was a you-had-me-at-hello moment.  It didn't begin with hunting, rather fishing, which was entertaining enough to find me still viewing when the hunting segment came on the screen.  I laughed aloud at the hunting garments.  Sorry again.

Enjoy.  Or not.

All the days of the afflicted are evil: but he that is of a merry heart hath a continual feast.  ~Proverbs 15:15

3 Dozen Eggs

That's all I wanted.  I didn't really want them.  There's just this little issue of having lost track of time while my chickens were aging.  And aging.  And apparently aging.  Who knew the little egg factories were all done workin' now ... until the daily egg count nosedived [nosedove?] to between zero and two?  Someone has to capture those wild, young chickens living with the CowNots and bring them to the coop.  So far, no resident rodeo clown has volunteered.

So I went to Aldi to buy eggs.  I should have known better than to pass up the shopping cart, but how hard can it be for three people to carry a dozen eggs each?  Those eggs weren't the problem, though.  The problem was the 4 boxes of frozen, Chinese stick-it-in-the-oven food, two bags of bagels (plain and cinnamon raisin), a bunch o' bananas, two cartons of whipped cream cheese with chives, 3 packs of cream cheese, a sack of Yukon gold potatoes, and a bag of spicy piggy-pops.  Kinda cumbersome.  So I grabbed a little box to help corral the littler bits.  Luggin' this load and standing in line with our prizes even supplied me a Charlie horse smack in the middle of my back, which I grimaced and bore.  "I came in for 3 dozen eggs," I said to the cashier.  "How'd I do?"  This was not our most pleasant trip to Aldi, and let me tell you, the word pleasant has never before been employed in tandem with trip to Aldi, so you get the picture.

Purrle loved me for it, though.  I guess it was worth it.  To him.

But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are: That no flesh should glory in his presence.  ~I Corinthians 1:27-29

It Looked Like Fabric

To me.

Before I turned 50, I'd never been purple.
I think I became purple in December, 2006.

Not just any purple.
Not gumball purple, and definitely not lavendar.
Mostly eggplant or thereabouts.

Little Loo's wedding, and the dress I was making was clearly presenting itself as ugly and ill fitted to the occasion, so I made a MAD dash to the bridal shop in TOE-peka a few days before the affair in neighboring Colorado.  Lovely, floaty, eggplant-hued gown with handkerchief hem and a perfect, feminine swish with every step.  Who knew — before 5:30 p.m. on December 16, when she arrived at the venue — McKrunk's mother, a whole state away, had chosen the same gown.  Go home!  Go home right this minute, and change your clothes!

In spite of my eggplant nightmare, I'm still keen on the color, and a purplish fleece throw leapt off the shelf and into my cart last week, because somewhere inside that throw is a cozy shawl or cocoon wrap.  Someday.  I have a propensity for spying clothing in yard goods and storing them for the day said clothing may magically appear itself from the flatliness.

I wrestled and folded and folded and wrestled, trying to find the wrap in that throw.  Discouraged by my anemic creative abilities, I walked away, just short of a headache.
Enter Purrle.
Fat cat thinks it's a blankie.


He's probably right.
Bet his head doesn't hurt.


Kinda looks like gumball purple, eh?  It's not gumball purple, and my walls aren't blind-you-make-you-throw-up yellow either.  Just thought you should know. ºÜº

She maketh herself coverings of tapestry; her clothing is silk and purple.  ~Proverbs 31:22

Little Getaway

images clickable for enlargement
With some unexpected down-time on our calendar, we made hasty plans to trek up to Milford Lake for a few days and positioned ourselves here:


No, we didn't perch in a tree.
It's a cabin:


#4 to be precise:


I took a lot of photos like this:


And this:


Because I ♥ seagulls.
Like the one in the center of this photo.
Which you might not notice without the inset crop:


So you can imagine me nearly falling out
of the boat when I spied this:


♥ ♥ ♥

I love sunsets too:


And my boys:




I was pretty keen on the marina:


Mostly because of Tiger...


...the boat inspector:

In the lazy afternoon, when fishing isn't so great — especially with waves cresting at 3 feet and boys singing the theme from Gilligan's Island as we'd crashed our way back to the cabin — I looked out these windows...


...and saw our beached boat had come unmoored.
And was floating away.
And was about to bash into another boat.

Charles and Son4 can run fast.
Run, Charles, Run.



Pull, Charles:


Pull, pull, pull:


The sun set a final time on our little getaway.



And it's always good to be back home.

Grace and peace be multiplied unto you through the knowledge of God, and of Jesus our Lord, according as his divine power hath given unto us all things that pertain unto life and godliness, through the knowledge of him that hath called us to glory and virtue.  II Peter 1:2, 3