Good news, Wyo. Sis has figured out how to access my blog again. She has been MIA for a few weeks and sincerely missed by those who get daily comments on their blogs.
I finally managed to work in home housekeeping yesterday. The kitchen floor is no longer really, really frightening.
I don’t ever really clean the house; I just have islands of clean. Today the island is the kitchen. It won’t last, of course. But now I can walk across the floor without fear of cutting my toe on a petrified Cheerio, the true test of rather or not a kitchen needs cleaning.
I spent the weekend working on projects for my ScrappinTrends design team assignment.
I posted one of the layouts yesterday. Today I’m showing off a card and a picture frame. Yes, Wyo. Sis, I framed a picture of “Bucky” to send to your daughter for her birthday.
The card idea was generated from watching “Project Runway.” This show is a reality program in which wanna be runway clothing designers are given challenges to design clothing.
The inspiration came from a recycling challenge. One of the contestants used newspaper, and I thought about what I would have done, and came up with paper folding. As a result, I did a fan-type fold on the paper for this card. It ended up rather Asian looking, which was not my goal, but I still like it.
I can’t post one of the layouts. I have been forbidden by my son to do so because he hates the flowers. He is approaching 12 years of age and is against anything that might even slightly be girly, embarrassing, or associated with family in any way.
He is, however, very pleased to be getting old enough to get the priesthood. He told me the other day he has friends his age who do not want to become deacons because they don’t want the responsibility. My boy lives for responsibility. It is all I can do to wrestle it away from him when it comes to parenting my younger son.
DS-A is fascinating me. He came home yesterday with a list of spelling words. My little heart sunk, I hate going through the spelling word battle with my DS-L. I hated doing the battle when I was a child. But I took the paper and asked him to spell the first word.
Hum, he got it right?
Maybe a fluke.
Second word, correct, third word, right on.
Fourth work “ankle” no way was he going to get it right on the first try.
“A ~ N ~ C er, no K ~ L ~E”
It’s a miracle!
I have a child who can spell.
He buzzed through the entire list with nary a problem.
I made him spell the list again for his brother. Then we did it again when his Daddy came home.
How did I manage to give birth to a speller? Genetics is a strange and wonderful thing.
DS-L likes math and DS-A can spell. Now if only they had inherited good teeth and eyes.
DS-L is also doing “chicken fat” in school, an exercise program geared to develop fit kids. I am so happy he is doing it, although I would have hated it with a red-hot passion when I was in sixth grade. He’s been a little achy this week as his muscles get an unaccustomed workout.
I suppose I should do a little “chicken fat” too. Set a good example and all that rot.