Mini Juice Fast: Day 1

Quite a while ago, Dr. D and I watched the documentary, Sick, Fat and Nearly Dead. Not long after, we bought a juicer with the plan of making juicing a part of our daily routine. After a day or two of: WOW! This is AMAZING! I LOVE juice! Pineapple-Fennel-Beet is AWESOME! Little Miss Rowdy made her own announcement.

She did not like juice-milk. At all.

So the juicer collected dust. Just when I was thinking it might fetch some green on Craigslist, we decided to try again. Wouldn't you know, Rowdy-button doesn't mind juice-milk so much when she's chowing down on pork-and-veggie delight or pumpkin-oat bars. Yippee!

This morning we began with a delicious pineapple-orange-pomegranite, followed up with a carrot-apple-beet-ginger-lime for lunch. Now it's 4:12. I am so hungry. So. Very. Hungry. That itself isn't much of a surprise. I'm always SO HUNGRY at 4:12. What I didn't realize was how mindlessly I forage in the cupboards when I'm hungry. About ten times a minute I catch myself getting up and reaching for the cupboard door with visions of chocolate chips or dates or a handful of cereal dancing in my head.

Another Upside to the iPhone 5: Cutest Purse-Bag-Diaper-Bag-All-In-One Ever

Dr. D ordered the magnificent iPhone 5, so I will inherit his old iPhone 4 (no Siri! *sob*), which will be a huge step up from my dumb phone - a T-Mobile pay-as-you-go with teeny-tiny keyboard and ability to do nothing beyond make phone calls. Oh, did I say it could make phone calls? Strike that. The ability to make phone calls when I'm in range. Which would be almost never.

Whatever. The end result of this switch: I needed a new bag with separate pockets for phone and keys so my keys don't, duh, scratch up my phone! An added bonus: it should be large enough to hold Rowdy's baby basics, but small enough so I don't knock over adult men (my old diaper bag is the size of a guitar case). And since I'm never happy with bags off the shelf, I decided to make one.

After a few days of obsessive pattern searching (free patterns of course), I settled on this one, which shows how to make the cute-as-a-button diaper bag below:

A few alterations, like decreasing the overall size since I wanted a handbag more than a diaper bag, plus a week of maniacal sewing ...

Plaguing Starbucks Everywhere: Kidism

We've heard of racism and ageism, sexism and more, but over the weekend we experienced yet another "ism." It could be seen as a sort of reverse ageism, I suppose. It's nothing less than: "Kidism."

Here's the story (of course there's a story!) ...

Picture it, Sunday morning, Dr. D had left early for a meeting and to take Mud Pie to children's choir practice, so it was up to me to rouse and ready the boys and Rowdy. No problem, except as is typical of Sunday mornings, we were out of cereal/milk/anything else to eat for breakfast. So I hurried the boys and made it to D&W with ten minutes for a donut.

Added bonus, this D&W has a Starbucks inside. Mama was not yet entirely roused (read: Zombie), so I sent St. Nick up with my debit card to order me a cup of coffee.

A few seconds later he returned saying, "They were too busy. I have to go back up in a minute."

"Busy? But there's nobody up there!"

Scattered in the Head

I'm having one of those days weeks lives where I feel like my head is spinning in a thousand different directions. Five emails a day from school, "Don't forget, we're missing, tomorrow is, your child needs!" Announcements at church, "For middle school, our Harvest Dinner, next Sunday, in nursery this week..." Not to mention my million-and-one writing, photographing, designing projects. Keeping the house together, kids fed and clothed, on and on and on has left me convinced of one thing.

I need to clone myself. Which reminds me that I started a story about cloning. That I wanted to finish. It's done in my head, just needs to be written up. Maybe while St. Nick is at swimming tomorrow.