It's Berry Squirrely Here

A few weeks ago Itty Bitty's great-grand-ma gave her/us some strawberry plants.
They sat on the potting bench for a bit before we could decide where to put them.

We ended up putting them just beyond the steps to the deck, but before you get to
the pool so we could keep an eye on them.  I've never seen a rabbit, but you never
know.  Stranger things have crept thru here and we didn't want to "feed the animals",
as it were.  Cute or not, I had visions of jam dancing in my head and I wasn't about
to go toe to toe with a furry little creature!

You can see the little red berries peeking out.  These aren't the first fruits of this little plant.  No-sir-ree-bob.  It seemed every time I picked a ripe berry something had already taste tested it!  We think this is the culprit:

 



That's definitely NOT a rabbit! Just look at him, all stretched out ~ King of the Hill ~ we think he thinks he owns the place.  Just this morning Bob caught him sauntering across the deck with a green strawberry in his clutches.  He just gave Bob the ol' stink eye when Bob told him he couldn't do that.
Yea, right.  Who's Bob kidding?  That squirrely little rascal moseyed on across the deck and off he went.  "Let's just see what I can and can't do.", I imagined him saying.

But I did manage to beat him to these this afternoon:

I know, two scrawny little berries.  Bitter at that, the girls said.  But hey, at least King Squirrel
didn't get them!

And, no, I probably won't get enough out of those three little plants for a good batch of jam for some
 time to come.  I will surely need to add some more plants (and some kind of "King" protection).  But that's all well and good for the time being.  I was given the nudge and now I can run with it!  We will see what next year holds.

Now to concentrate on blueberries.  Ahh, the fruits of my labor, tho they be little.

Yet, Another

So, I done and did it . . . started yet another BLOG.  What can I say.  I'm not only addicted to writing and glassware, but apparently I'm addicted to cotton as well.   And somewhere in my feeble mind, I've convinced me that I'm to document my addiction ~ for posterity, of course. 

I'm just in the beginning stages of "setting the stage" ~ hence, the reason for only one post.

If you should feel so inclined as to take a peek every now and then to see how my journey is progressing as I'm playing with cotton, you will find the blog on my side bar, appropriately titled:
"Playing With Cotton".  

What can I say?  It is who I am. Good, bad or indifferent.

So, TTFN.

Crazy Lady :)

Happy Birthday, Donna

Double Nickels!

A friend told me when I hit that milestone that

55 is a lucky year! 

Eye spy. . . . another birthday!

 

I'm not positively certain, but I think glasses might

be a little easier to handle, especially if you're

multi-tasking!  And it's not so obvious when

 you're out in public. 

But, if you're a little vain, you can always pretend they

are clear sunglasses that just happen to help you see

better!  Just sayin'.  *wink*

 

Anyway, Happy Birthday

Enjoy this "Son" filled day.

I love you!

Crickett

Happy Birthday, Izac!

 

 

Happy Birthday, Little Man!

Growing up is busy and tiring work!

Lots of Love,

Aunt Crickett

Happy Birthday, Baby Girl!

 

 

I guess we are going to have to stick with Itty Bitty. 

You are no longer a baby.

Three. Years.  Old.

Let's put a brick on that head!

 

Happy Birthday to you!

 

Love,

MOM-MOM

OXOXOXOXOX's

Yes, this is our Itty Bitty, in all her glory!

 

Happy Birthday, Baby A!

 

 

Or, should I say, Little Girl A? 

 You have grown soooo much in the past year! 

You are two whole years old! 

Can we believe it?   No. Way. 

 

Happy Birthday to you. 

 

I love you so much!

 

Love,

MOM-MOM

OXOXOXOXO's

 

"One Little Monkey. . . ."

 

. . . . rolled out of bed.
This little monkey bumped her head.

 

 

She went to the Doctor. . . .

 

. . . . and the Doctor said. . . .

 

Two little staples

for your tiny little head!

 

 

Yea, it was one of those days for Mama Monkey.  Her littlest monkey rolled out

of bed first thing this morning and left a gash in her nugget! 

Off to the ER they went.  Got her all stapled up and back home by 10:00.

Baby Monkey's Mama did what any respectable Mama would do ~

she read her One Little Monkey!

And then, like any respectable (cough, cough) Mama, she brought her to Grand-Mama to wash

her little nugget, 'cause Mama Monkey's stomach did flip flops!





 

 

All's well.  Hair and body washed. Scary!

Mostly because they stapled her hair right in

that mess because Mama Monkey wouldn't let them shave it.

Can't really say I blame her there.

Movie on TV with Pop-pop and then lunch.

What more could Baby Monkey ask for? 

No ~ those aren't band aids on her legs.  They are the price stickers from the "reward"

outfit she is wearing.  I was told she was a very good girl for the Doctor.

Now. . . . to be a very good girl for me!



Happy Day to Me!

I know ~ doesn't make a bit of sense, yet it's the most logical of sensible things to me.  No, I can't explain that statement.  Let's just roll with it, shall we?

I gifted myself something for Mother's Day.  Yes, I know, Mother's Day was just over a week ago. I'm a busy mama.  So, work with me here.

Boney Ol' Bugger, U.B., Ernest, Bing, ~ AKA:  BOB ~ took me antiquing for Mother's Day.  I love looking at old things, seeing how I am an old thing, and I feel right at home in those smelly ol' stores ~ I am, however, NOT smelly.  Let's just set that straight from the get-go. I am so inclined to come home and shower off the residue those buildings seem to impart on me.  

I usually just browse ~ if you've known me long enough, you know browsing is one of those things I love to do. It's a relative of window shopping (in case you didn't know that) and I love doing that too.
Neither costs a dime and my imagination gets to play all kinds of decorating games.  I love "free" and anything "practically free".  So, I was thrilled beyond thrilled when I stumbled upon my find!

A long, long time ago, Heidi Jane and I entered a contest on Susan Branch's blog (love her blog).  It was for a vintage banana bowl.  Can we just say: "Ooooo, Ahhhh."?  It was a shiny, crystally one.  Yep, all sparkly and saying my name. And if you know me, anything glass, especially clear, sparkly glass, makes me weak in the knees.  It was an anxious wait ~ mainly because Heidi Jane is the Queen of Contest Winners and I just knew she was going to get that thing.  But that was alright by me .  She is part of my Aaron and Hur team and I'm a thinkin':  "What's Hurs is mine!"  tee-hee   But, alas, neither of us won it.  tsk, tsk

But it never really left my mind.  I stalked banana bowls on E-bay and antique stores.  They range from pricey, to very, very pricey.  I didn't need one THAT badly.  But, it never left my mind.

So ~ as I was browsing Season's Best Antique store downtown I ran upon an item that made me stop in my tracks (other items just slowed me down a bit).  Stop dead, I did, glued to the price tag on an item that never really left my mind. Glued.  Could it be?  A typo perhaps?  Or more likely, I needed to put my glasses on to read the fine print.   Oh, by golly, it was true!  There in front of me sat a sparkly, shiny, crystal clear banana bowl.  For. . . . . . . . a whole whopping seven dollars and fifty cents! That's right!  Seven point five zero!   Can we just do a jig right now?  I picked that baby up, held her tight to me ~ you know, just in case, and headed straight for check out, only to play "Eye Spy" on the way out.  I spied a lot, but no time for stopping, you know, just in case.  Not in case I changed my mind, but in case someone realized there might need to be a price check on "Isle Getaway!".  But at check-out, the cashier assured me the price was right, but not without making a comment on it being pretty and at such a good price.  "Just hurry up buddy so I can get my find out of this store." I'm thinking.  And let's say, I didn't waste any time getting to the car.  There's a first time for everything!  Bob was even asking if I was sure I was done.  Now, THAT'S a FIRST! ! !

All shiny and sparkly!  I love her.

Doing what she does best.

I must really thank the booth owner for marking such a lovely thing
at such a lovely price!  Just. For. Me.

 Happy Day to ME!

Happy Birthday, Heather!

 

 

 

 

Birthdays.   They just won't leave us alone. 

 But, I'm glad we have them so we can celebrate those we love.

 

Happy Birthday, Heather!  Hope your day is as wonderful as you are. 

 

Love you Bushels!

Aunt Crickett

 

PS:  Kinda stinks that your B-day and Mother's Day are

next door to each other ~ but then, could be double the fun!

 

PSS:  Had to crop your lovelies ~ sorry

Bat Master Son and His Side Kick, Goldilocks

Every now and then we encounter the very thing that will make a grown man scream like a girl:  A Bat.  One such encounter occurred Monday night as we were nonchalantly watching "Wheel of Fortune".  The girls were piled on the sofa with me.  Kelly was stretched out on the love seat and Ben was tethered to his phone in a chair behind me and the girls. 

You know how sometimes you think you see a flicker of something, but it's not really there?  Well, that's what I thought.  As I was getting ready to show Rease a quilt block I had made that day Helena screamed:  "There's a bat!".  Now that gets your attention in a hurry.  All business stops and we stare up toward the ceiling and sure enough here it comes, swooping and spiraling from the top of the stairs into the living room creating a pandemonium of great magnitude.  All girls jam up against me, taking cover underneath the box that holds my quilt blocks ~ 'cuase, ya know, bats love hair ~ Kelly bolts out of the house, I think and Ben ends up near the dining room on his belly.  That's where we all remained as we screamed like girls every time the bat would swoop down and circle.  It would go back up the stairs and return lickety-split-quick ~ just to torment us, not once, not twice, but hundreds of times. Okay, not hundreds, but a lot.  We were frozen where we were ~ except for Ben who, by then, was slithering on his belly across the floor to retrieve his phone.  It must have had the wing span of 5 feet!  No kidding.  Well, maybe 18 to 24 inches, but no smaller.  I'm almost sure of that! 

It finally went back up the stairs and didn't come back down.  Now there's food for thought.  Who's room did it decided to park its scary, batty little self in?  Hm?   It was up for debate.  Meantime, Kelly reappeared (with pillow on head, looking like she stepped out of a cartoon), Bob made his presence known, and discussion began on how to "remove" this beast from OUR home. It was a conundrum of sorts.

Since we couldn't "visually and easily see" this home invader and couldn't guarantee that it left by the same means in which it entered. Kelly decided to go to Colin's house for the night.
She gathered Baby Girl and left the older two to decide their fate.  They, being brave souls, decided to stay home and tough it out ~ until it was nearing bedtime.  I gently informed them that my bed was not big enough for four people.  They needed to chew on it for a bit. 

In the meantime what follows next, well, is typical for our home.  Bat Master Son (chaser of the bat, Master of his fate, and Son of my life) and his sidekick, Goldilocks (my heart throb) took matters into their own hands.

They don the safety gear - helmets, gloves, bats (as in baseball)
crab nets, flashlights and a tennis racket

He's going on a "Bat Hunt". . . . . Notice ~ all nooks and crannies are
covered.  No bat touching his skin, no sir!

Goldilocks is a little braver - more skin exposed,
but she's walking softly and carrying a big stick!

They suited up and proceeded to go on a "Bat Hunt".  All went dark upstairs as they tried to flush the beast from it's hiding spot.  Slowly, stealthily, they went from room to room, shaking curtains checking door frames, lamp shades, on top of and behind dressers. You name it, they checked it. All to no avail.  The beast was much more clever than they.  It had picked it's hiding spot well.  Away from probing eyes and "Bat Artillery.  Clever.  Little.  Beast. 

They gave up the hunt. They felt sure it was closed up in the third floor bedroom.  Sure of it.  But, just in case all upstairs doors were shut (either to keep the beast in or to keep him out).  Not being secure that the beast wouldn't enter their bedroom, the girls opted to stay with their dad.  No bats in his house.  They wouldn't have to sleep with one eye open ~ unlike the rest of us who were doomed to stay in the House of Bat.

Not seeing the beast for a couple hours, we felt confident (somewhat) that he was indeed trapped on the third floor.  So Bob and I retired for the night.

Just about midnight as I was settling into a deep sleep, my bedroom door flies open and in jumps Ben. Bat Master Son yells that he got the bat, but he thinks he knocked it out!
What?  Down I go to inspect the situation.  Yep, there he was, wrapped in the crab net.  He had emerged from only God knows where to descend back down the stairs, catching Bat Master Son off guard.  He swung the net and with one fell swoop and knocked the Beast down!

We stand there for a few seconds analyzing the situation and Bat Master Son asks for the flashlight.  He needed to check out the "Creature".  He bends over and touches it with the flashlight.  The bat flips out and looks like it's about to take flight.  That's all I can say, because Bat Master Son and I both screamed and did the "Curly Shuffle" to exit the area just in case our lives were in jeopardy!
I didn't realize I still had it in me to move that fast!  Whew, I guess when your life is on the line you can do miraculous things.   I heard Bob laughing up stairs.  Yea, he can laugh because he wasn't on the front line, defending his homeland.  But, we didn't let him off Scot free.  He got to take the Beast outside and rid us of it.  Whatever went down out there is between Bob, the Beast and the Heavens. 

Ahhh.   Sweet peace.   All's calm on the Home Front, at least until the next adventure, be it plumbing, traveling or bat hunting.