Last week, my sister and I were feeling particularly brave, young, and healthy, so we did what those sorts of people do: we packed up all five of our children and drove across the state of South Dakota to the Black Hills. Of course, upon arriving, we discovered that while we still could be considered brave, we were not feeling particularly young or healthy — in a mental capacity, that is. But we have gone and we have returned, and I’m feeling a bit more rejuvenated for the effort.
Continue reading “A Journey to the Black Hills”
The joy of old friendships
There’s nothing better for the soul than getting together with old friends. They keep you real. They remind you of stupid things you’ve done in the past so that any danger you may have been in of harboring an overinflated ego is gone. Needless to say, my soul is happy and my ego is within the healthy range after the activity of the past few days.
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Hot for Polka Dots
Every now and then I’ll get hooked on a color or a pattern, and it seems that every decision I make has to center around that obsession of the moment. You know how Hollywood divas have a knack for demanding that everything around them be, say, white? I’m kind of like that. Except less crazy.
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The evolution of cracked ice and chrome
Perhaps my title is misleading, because it reflects the intent of this post, not exactly the result. I woke up this morning intending to research the history of the chrome table trend . . . only to find that such research was the equivalent of trying to handstand in a tub of Jell-O. It was a FAIL moment.
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Going retro without going overboard: countertops
When I made the decision to create a retro kitchen (for now . . . the rest of the house may follow), I struggled with the knowledge that while I loved the retro look, a potential home buyer may not. We’ve been in our house for ten years, but that certainly didn’t mean that if the perfect house came up for sale on an acreage somewhere near us that I wouldn’t drop everything to go buy it.
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The Epitome of Freedom
That’s me on the left. For a weekend, I was a biker chick. Well, without the bike, but whatever. Minor detail, really.
Unlike most families, I don’t have a good ol’ standby tradition when it comes to the 4th of July. Sometimes I’ll travel to South Dakota to stay at my parents’, because South Dakota is one of those fun states that still trust its citizens to put off fireworks all by their little lonesome; sometime I’ll travel to Minnesota to spend time with my in-laws or my sister and her family. In Iowa, we are relegated to sparklers or a handful of other lame fireworks, or having to find a local show to watch. I can’t even sit on my porch and steal a glance at some of the local shows, either — too many trees.
This year I did something a little different. Continue reading “The Epitome of Freedom”