Horror Story

I'm much more susceptible to horror than your average person. I'm still deeply traumatized by a Stephen King mini-series I saw as a pre-teen. I hated every minute of it, but couldn't bring myself not to watch and see how it ended. Since then, I've developed a lot more---I don't know---self-control, or more likely, self-preservation. Now I know better than to even watch a scary commercial on TV, so if one comes on, I'll either leave the room or close my eyes and hum like an idiot. But NOT an idiot with nightmares!

So it's been rather ironic that I've been living in my own personal horror story these last few weeks. A malevolent Presence has been lurking in my upstairs. I tried to ignore it. I tried to stay away from it. I tried to never climb those stairs and become vulnerable to its evil attacks, but to no avail---it reached me even downstairs and bound my spirit in inescapable chains of darkness.. There was no eluding the Presence.

Guilt.

Oh, the horror! Guilt lurked in my upper story, ready to gobble me up at the first opportunity. No matter how much I resisted, I could not vanquish it. Desperation drove me to try my last option, my last hope. I would climb those steps of doom and do battle with the Presence face to face.

No! Don't go towards the Mess.

But I must.

It's the only way.

See, all those weeks of nice, tidy, respectable existence downstairs, I'd had a horrible, dirty secret. The two rooms upstairs were an absolute disaster. One that loomed with ever-increasing urgency, because I need to get the rest of my attic crawl spaces insulated before winter. You'd have to be a mountain climber to even get up the stairs! Something had to be done.

So two days ago I put on my big girl panties and forced myself up the stairs to confront the lurking Presence of Guilt. And what do you know, it wasn't quite as horrific when faced head on. Turns out that the horror of Guilt only held its power as long as it remained a shadowy specter in the recesses of my mind.

The Long Storage Room of Doom

The Menacing Killer Vegetable Room

I'm still not finished with the second room, but everything is ready for insulating in the first, and I know the second one won't take too long---IF I don't try to avoid it like before. When will I learn that procrastination only makes things worse? Hmmmmm?

I don't know either. Oh, well. I'll figure it out later.

How to Paper Mache

when you don't have a clue what you're doing....

I was asked to make something decorative for the front of the Montana Conference's Women's Retreat. This might sound like a big honor---being picked out of the whole state---but our pastor's wife happens to be the Women's Ministries leader for Montana. Not that I'm implying nepotism; it was just simple for her to ask me because I was there.

And that is how I found myself making my first foray into paper mache. I've painted a few backdrops in my time, and I'm fairly comfortable working in the 2-D medium of foam insulation, but I've never tried any 3-D decorations.  I didn't even think of paper mache, but Ruthie, our pastor's wife, suggested it and I decided to give it a try.

The first thing I did was google it. I don't know how people ever did anything without the internet. Just think of the time wasted by having to go to the library and look things up!

I found a recipe for the paste here and decided to use the cooking method. It uses 1 part flour to 5 parts water, so a little flour goes a long way. Which is a good thing. I went through 4-5 kettles full by the time I finished

I made the frame out of a lawnmower box, another smaller box, and some dowels with tar paper wrapped around them.  Unfortunately, it wasn't until after I had my first coat of paper mache on that I actually looked at some lighthouse pictures and saw that the tops of lighthouses are always round. To fix my rectangular box error, I cut two circles out of cardboard, put one on the top and one on the bottom of the box, then duct taped around the edge to make a circular top.

The actual paper mache part was super fun. If you're planning a paper mache project, allow yourself lots of time, because it's a lengthy process to put on the pieces and let dry between coats. But the fun value is awesome. It's so delightfully squishy beneath your fingers---the perfect activity for a tactile child that likes to get messy.

To paper mache, you first tear newspaper into strips 1-2 inches wide. Don't worry if they get a little bigger as you go along. Mine certainly did. It's actually nice to have a selection of narrow and wide strips so you can choose the best one for any particular spot.

Then you apply the strips by dipping them in the flour mixture, making sure to coat both sides completely. After they are coated, you slide your fingers along the paper strip to get rid of the excess paste. The more glop you have on your project, the longer it will take to dry.

Lay the strips in a crisscross pattern. Go ahead and press, rip, and tear wherever you need to in order to make things fit. Don't get too many layers on at once, though, or it will take forever to dry.

After all the paper was on and dried, I painted the whole thing with a white primer. I actually could have stood to have some more layers for strength, but I was in a time crunch. It did OK, though. There's not much can go wrong with paper mache.

I got an old mayonnaise jar and used that for the glass part of the lighthouse. I made a ring of cardboard around the lid and glued the lid to the top of the lighthouse.The jar could then be screwed and unscrewed from the lid  in order to put in a battery-powered candle if desired.

I added some detail by making a little fence out of Popsicle sticks and making four "posts" to go around the glass jar. The top of the lighthouse was a cardboard circle with a little piece cut out to make it angle a bit. I would have liked to have spent more time on the top, but by then I really had to get 'er done. I only had time for one layer of paper and it was a little more rugged than I would have liked.

The lighthouse was painted white with red stripes. The woodwork at the top was black, and the lid was spray painted with a metallic brass paint. I also spray painted the base with a granite spray paint to give it texture. Overall, it turned out very nicely, but I do have to say that the structure part of it could've used improvement. It was the leaning lighthouse of Pisa.

In between coats on the lighthouse, I began work on the ocean backdrop for the whole thing. I sort of expected that part to be a piece of cake, since I'd done a similar scene a few years ago. Well, God has a way of challenging our self-confidence to keep us wholly relying on Him, and things didn't go as smoothly as I'd wanted. I kept over-spraying and the design wasn't coming together right, but with God's help and a whole lot of covering things up, I got the first part done.

The sky had to wait a while until I got more blue spray paint, but the day before I had to deliver it for transport I finally got the whole thing finished. It was barely 50 degrees outside and windy, but I forced my frozen fingers around a paint brush and got the last details painted on.

I had a lot of fun on this project and will definitely be doing paper mache in the future. There are so many possibilities  open when you move into 3-D art. And I would recommend it for anyone that wants a fun art project for kids. It has all the messy elements kids enjoy and it turns out really cool, too. Caleb's no kid, but he was forcibly conscripted  helped me put on the paper strips, and he had a great time. Really.

 P.S. Here is a helpful tip. If you paint a backdrop onto a sheet, iron it first. Just do it. Trust me.

A Perfect Day for Blogging

Our little farmstead from the northwest.

Today is absolutely the perfect day for getting caught up with my blogging. We've been having a stretch of gorgeous weather, the kind that's ideal for doing all those winterizing tasks you've waited until the last possible moment to do. Hey, you have your holiday traditions, I'll have mine. And, sorry, dear readers, but making my house warm and toasty takes a wee bit more of a priority than you do. After all, YOU don't have to huddle up in a sub-zero wind-tunnel if I don't get it all done.

But today is gray and gloomy, with rain and wind gusting up to 50 mph. It's a great day to stay inside, and technically, I have a storage room to sort, but that can wait for a while. You'll be happy to know that I love you more than I love cleaning out my storage room. Don't you feel special now?

So the first thing to catch up on are a few pictures from a couple weeks ago. Fall is such a nice season here. After a few frosts, the bugs are gone, no more ticks, the days are still warm, and it's the perfect time to get out in nature. After all, you won't be doing much outside for the next 4 months, so it's nice to get a little Vitamin D stocked up.

Caleb and I did some exploring out back. I keep hoping that every new season will expose some undiscovered pirate treasure out there. No luck so far. Evidently, the pirates didn't think to come this far inland. Too bad, because no one would ever have guessed where they hid their treasure. But I keep checking the same areas just in case. You never know what you'll find.

This time I found an old wood burning stove that ripped apart when we tried to pull it out of the dirt. I also found an old children's wagon, identifiable only by the handle sticking out from a rusted skeleton. And Caleb and I were excited to discover that the shallow puddle we'd confidently ice skated on last winter is actually a deep, man-made pond that would have reached well over our heads. It still might for that matter, because I couldn't see the bottom of it, even after a summer of drying up. At least we'll have an ice rink this winter.

All the fields have been harvested, so we hiked across the wheat stubble to the top of a hill we've never climbed before. Turns out that the view from the top isn't a whole lot different from the view from the bottom. Climbing hills is somewhat less thrilling on the prairie than elsewhere. But I did get a nice picture of our homestead from a different direction.

  

And yes, that picture is at the top of a hill, even if it looks flat. Our hills are flat, OK! Don't rub it in.

We may not have found a chest of gold and jewels, but we still found plenty of treasure. Fresh air, a peaceful atmosphere, lots of wildlife, freedom in every direction as far as you can see, and lots of beautiful scenery. That's the kind of treasure no pirate's booty could ever purchase. After all, how many of the great pirates died horrible deaths as a result of their wealth, and I never have to worry about anyone stealing my treasures. They're a little hard to pack up and carry off!

 

Learning to Shave

Now that Grandpa has been here a few weeks, we are settling into a routine. Said routine has less time than my overly-optimistic self would have liked, but way more time than I used to have. Every morning begins with dressing and breakfast, then I have a couple hours before time to begin lunch prep, and again, a couple hours before supper. My grandpa has always been a very, well, thorough eater and mealtimes do tend to take the better part of each day.

For such a sedentary individual, my grandpa burns a surprising amount of calories, and making sure he stays nice and chunky can be a bit of a challenge. Especially when there are sometimes whole days when he's too tired to eat much of anything.

However, he has never, in his whole life, been too tired for cookies or ice cream!

That is where a wonderfully horrible product that we've discovered comes in. "WhoNu" cookies.

When I first saw them I couldn't suppress an eye roll. Now a bunch of gullible parents would let their kids tank up on these "health" cookies, as if adding in nutrition means there's no fat or sugars to worry about. But then I actually took a look at the box. Three cookies has, as it proclaims on the cover, "as much fiber as a bowl of oatmeal, as much Calcium and Vitamin D as a 8 oz. glass of milk, and as much Vitamin C as a cup of blueberries".  That's pretty impressive for cookies, and they taste pretty good, too (Hey, I can't give Grandpa things that taste bad, can I? Regular quality control checks are necessary).

None of this means they're health food, or that you can eat as many as you want because "they're good for you", but for getting added nutrition into an occasionally-stubborn elderly gentleman, they are GREAT!

(Suncore Products, you may contact me via this blog to send the check for my celebrity endorsement.)

Yes, having Grandpa here is educational in many aspects. Not only have I been transformed into a pseudo-dietician, I have also become an old-school valet. You know, the kind that does everything for the lord of the manor. Now, this may surprise you, but my life heretofore has not exactly been of the type to prepare me for being a gentleman's personal care aid. Shocking, I know, but true. One of the things I've had to learn to do is shave.

Actually, learning to shave might not be a bad idea anyway, what with my family's Portuguese heritage. Portuguese are lovely people, but can be a bit hairy---and that's just the women! I might find myself needing to know how to shave one of these days, if you get my drift. But so far, I have been blissfully free of facial hair. At least I think so. I'm either free of facial hair or my eyesight has already started to go.

Grandpa always insisted on being clean-shaven. He came from a generation where men with beards were weird Bohemian types, not to be trusted. He was a scholar and a gentleman, so every morning, the beard had to go. But he liked to tease us before he shaved by grabbing us and rubbing his whiskers up and down our cheeks. We would wriggle and squirm to get away, then run shrieking down the hall, refusing to get close to him again until he emerged from the bathroom sans whiskers. Shaving was always somewhat of a ritual with him.

Since I've started shaving him, let's just say the ritual has gotten a little less frequent!

Like the landscape of the Old West, my grandpa's face is weathered and crossed by deep canyons, wrinkled arroyos where outlaw whiskers have their hideouts. And as the sheriff in a dime store novel, the razor does its best to restore law and order to the scene, but somehow there are always a few wily whiskers that manage to elude capture. This leaves my grandpa with odd soul patches on random parts of his face. Good thing he doesn't have a mirror!

While I doubt I'll ever get hired on as a gentleman's gentleman, I think I am improving with practice. Less and less of the dastardly villains escape capture each time. It's a work in progress, but hey, I can at least be grateful that I don't have to use a straight razor.

I think Grandpa looks grateful, too.

I Miss My Puppies!

"What? I'm royalty, OK!"

 

Well, I hope Esther, Queen of Purrsia feels guilty after that mean-spirited attack post yesterday. But I doubt it! That same afternoon, the puppies' family got back into town 5 days earlier than we expected them. So we had to say good-bye to our little buddies and send them back.

But that means I really, really need to find a puppy for us. There's nothing worse than puppy withdrawal. Besides, having the puppies here showed that we can handle it. Finley, Mr. I-Am-The-Only-Dog-Allowed-In-The-World actually got so he would play with them---sort of. He would galloop around them asking to join in all their reindeer games and they would roll over on their backs saying, "Please don't kill me!" Now Finley is sad because he has no buddies except for all those stinkin' cats.

So I was looking on Petfinder for a nice little puppy friend for Finley. There are lots of different kinds available now.... terriers, labs, pit bulls, mastiffs, but one in particular really caught my eye.

http://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/23616419

It's a St. Bernard/Chihuahua cross. The mother is a 180 lb. St Bernard and the dad is a 3 lb. chihuahua. The owner did not expect them to be able to breed. But they did! And this is the result. Looks like it's going to be a small dog, doesn't it? So if you ever wondered what a 180 lb. chihuahua looks like, this is it!

Oh, the Beauty of Fall.....

The summer wanes steadily, but leaves in its stead in the glorious spectacle of autumn. The leaves crackle under foot, and the crisp, clean air is an intoxicating brew that inspires one to breathe deep and savor its delightful essence. The birds call to one another as they pass by, hurrying south to warmer surroundings. Oh, there can be no more splendid season than

Please.

Help me.


SHE left the computer open and I don't have much time, so listen carefully. I don't think I can last much longer.

It's been 10 days since they got here. Life was good before then, but now it's...I can't describe it. There are no words. We were happy, my little family of fellow cats. Oh, sure, there was one dog, ol' what's-his-name, but he never bothered us.

Why did SHE have to do it?

Why?

Weren't we enough?

Got to stay focused. It's so hard. My pulse is pounding. My paws are shaking so bad I can barely type this. PUPPIES! There, I said it. SHE brought in PUPPIES! Two of them; two furry terrors that have made our lives unbearable. I mean, seriously, we're royalty here. Do we need our tails pulled? Do we need our litter boxes raided? Sometimes they even follow us when we do our business outside and eat it when we're done. Like we're some sort of Dairy Queen soft-serve machine! They're not dogs, they're animals!

Do we need to be chased like common...criminals? Do we need.....shudder....our....fur....our beautiful fur.....LICKED? With PUPPY spit?

Have you seen what they put in their mouths?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

They don't even know how to use the litter box. They go....no, I can't say it. But I must. They go ON THE FLOOR! We WALK on that floor! SHE gets to wear shoes, but nobody thinks about our feet. That we have to wash with our tongues!

You've got to send help. Call the ASPCA, do something, but don't turn your backs on us. Please don't leave us here to die.You've got to help us! Ple.....

Oh, no, SHE's coming.

Gotta go. Don't forget......

Duct Tape: It's Not Just for Houses Anymore

This may seem like a funny title for a blog on book authorship, but---sadly---it will all make sense by the end. See, a few years back (I always say a few years because I am too lazy to stop and figure out exactly how many) my sister Noni was writing a book. Took her forever, too. To tease her, I went home one evening and wrote a book just so I could tell her, "Oh, I wrote a book last night".

Of course, hers was a full-length book and mine was a short children's story, so it wasn't quite the same thing! Anyway, after we collaborated on improving the story a bit, "Rahab's Promise" was published.

(Which is available on Amazon and as an ebook and in fine book stores everywhere. In case you were wondering.)

And that is how I found myself heading down to Glendive on Monday. The Adventist bookmobile was coming through and I was going down to sign a few copies of the book so the bookmobile lady could have them on hand. Oh, and Noni was sending signed copies of her two books also ("Peter: Fisher of Men" and "Malchus: Touched by Jesus" which are available on Amazon and as an ebook and in fine book stores everywhere. In case you were wondering.)

It was only two days after my birthday, so it was kind of my Happy Birthday Date with myself. I would get to dress up in something nicer than shorts and a grubby T-shirt and go do something professional. What fun! Tiggy was coming along to keep me company, so I picked her up at the school, then headed back by my house to do one more check on everyone before I headed down.

We turned onto my road and started over the bumpy gravel towards home.

And then my door fell off.

The van's sliding door had fallen off the other day while my mom had it. She got someone to come and put it back on, but it wasn't fixed yet and couldn't be opened. Well, it opened itself, and now I had a helicopter van---you know, the kind where you can sit in the doorway for quick and heroic exits. Only that wasn't the best kind of van for a 6 hour round trip.

Tiggy and I wrestled the door back into place there by the side of the road, then she sat in the back and held it on so we could make it back to the house. And then----yes, then---the world-famous- author-on-her-way-to-a-book-signing duct taped her door shut. Sigh.

I actually did a very nice job (I think, anyway) and the door held perfectly all the way to Glendive and back. But it did take a little of the professional glow off my day!