I got the last little details of "the" costume under control. 
And if I do say so, she makes quite a cute 'Dorothy'.
Aaaahhh.......Mischief Managed.
I remember going to the grocery store as a young girl in my 'hometown' with my mom or my grandmother or aunt. My grandmother has never had a license, so if I was at the grocery store, as a girl, with my grandmother we were either with one of my aunt's or my mom. I remember standing in line with my cousins (who were, in all honesty, more like siblings - and still are) and lined-up in their neat little way were all of the candy, plastic junk machines , as well as, a skill crane. It was deliciously beautiful and decadently shabby. But this was our local grocery store. I didn't know there was much of a variety. I didn't realize that, it was just barely a grocery store. It was teetering on the verge of being a grocery store. And it was most definetly not a supermarket.
My cousin Casey & I as toddlers on The hill.
As a little girl, playing with my psuedo siblings (better known as cousins) one of our favorite spots to play was on a hill at a neighbor's house next door to our grandparents. We used to roll down it, push each other, sit basking in the sun, use it as second base for our kickball games. This hill seemed so big. It was the mainstay of our childhood. It waited there, like a loyal, longing friend.
Time passes, we become older, possibly wiser. Our playthings are abandoned. We no longer want or care about going to the grocery store with our grandmother . Hoping for a quarter, like a bunch of hungry baby birds, to throw into a machine that dispenses stale gum or a plastic ring that will break before you get to the car.
HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! HAAALLEEEEELLUUUUUJAH!
The above picture (as well as this Administration) scares the crap out of me. If I had the ways & means, we (and by we, I mean Ravioli, myself & little Ravioli's) would be OUT OF HERE.
Check out this blog and watch Keith Olberman's report. You must do this.
THIRTEEN RANDOM THOUGHTS. Brought to you by: My scattered, crazy mind.
I was stoked. After finding some cool clothes for Gracie, the light fixture was the cherry on top.
11) My heart melted into a goopy, syrup-y mess, when last night, my baby girl sang along with me to Judy Garland's "Somewhere Over the Rainbow".
*crickets*
"When the wind had freed me from the roots that tied me down, now I need them back for comforting" 'I tried' by Matt Costa
I am introspective, introverted, I am deep, always lost in thought. I try to mask my caverns with moss, flowers and shallow ponds. I try to keep away from the depths that I teeter along on a daily basis. I know that those depths could carry me into madness. I walk that fine line between sane in insane everyday.
I have found that because I am always afloat in my cloudy bliss that it gives me leave to appreciate more, the things of beauty, the Gods and Goddesses of Sun, the hopeful things, the lovely things. I have also found that in my caverns I hold feelings that run deep. I feel with my whole body. I feel happiness with my whole self. I lean towards empathy, I am eerily perceptive and can feel strong emotions for a total stranger in need.
So, I did the Dead Celebrity Soulmate quiz on Biography's website. And here's my 'perfect match'. Rudolph Valentino. Whudda thunk it??
There's a tiny corner in my house.
It has recently come to my attention that I've not only the propensity to be a complete music snob, I have developed the ugly disease of being a Radio Nazi. I can't help it. Bryan & I are not even really on the same page, musically. I think I tend to lean toward the more artsy, eclectic and he leans more to pop stuff. And when I say stuff, I'm being nice. (See what I mean? It's like I can't control it).
He stops at Air Supply's "Here I Am". I swear, I was willing my ears to sew themselves shut so that I could be spared this monstrosity of a 'song'. I'm sitting in the car, hemming and hawing. He tries to tell a story about how this song reminds him of being a kid & his dad listening to it.....and I most rudely cut him off and say, "I can't believe you're listening to this. This is horrible." He huffily changes the station and says, "Do you approve of this?" I said, "Yes, actually I do. This is much better" ('American Girl' by Tom Petty). I look over at Ravioli and I can tell he's pissed. And what you have to understand about Ravioli is that he rarely ever gets his panties in a bunch about anything (which is good & bad). So I say in my best dig myself out of being wrong hole, "Are you serious? You're mad?" He says, "Yes. I was having a moment. I was trying to tell you a story about how this reminded me of when I was a kid." So feeling about as shitty as I should feel for being a total bitch, I say, "Change it back. It's no big deal." And of course, would he? No. Just to make me feel all that much worse.
This thing has been a beast. I spent about 7 hours on the sleeves and the skirt yesterday. I was really aniticipating the sleeves being a bear and the skirt being cake. Oh, no. The sleeves? No effort. The skirt? A whole other story that I swear I won't bore you with.
There's still work left to be done. But if I have to look at the crappy pattern directions anymore today, I just may put my fist through a wall - or- a windshield. I'm thinking that I should get into the pattern-making business. There's got to be a way to come up with pattern directions that aren't completely discernable. Who knows? It could be me. Maybe I am just that thick.
This is the bodice (obviously) minus the sleeves - they are next up to be worked on.
This is to be the skirt. I haven't figured out the fine art of gathering. I thought this was to be the easier part of this little project. No. Not true. If any of you have tips on gathering, I'd love to hear them!
So, that's it. Can you handle the excitement??? I am proud, though. It's the first time I've sewn clothes. I guess I shouldn't count my chickens before they hatch. I have plenty of time to screw this up!
Yesterday I was in the shower (can you believe it??) I was thinking about Pippajo's post the other day & realizing how badly things in my life are being neglected.
This is the worst of all >>>>>>>>>I have neglected to properly teach my daughter how to accesorize!!!
The other day, I sat down to write out on paper something that I wanted to blog about. Bryan read it, thought it was corny, so I scratched that idea. Since then, I have struggled to come up with something to say. I have struggled to sift through the many, many thoughts that are swirling inside of my cranium. They are so jumbled and muddled that I can't put two thoughts together. It's to the point that I don't know where one thought ends and another begins. It is completely and utterly exhausting, exasperating and frustrating. Everything I'm doing to try to quiet my mind, is not helping.
(this is one of my favorite pictures that I took when Gracie was only a few months old)
Jon has been at just about any major event that we have celebrated. He was there shortly after the birth of both of our babies, he was in our wedding, he is the Godfather to both of our children. 
