Upcycling Project

Like many of you crafty, creative people out there, I have fallen in love with el Pinterest. I often feel like a child as I peruse the pins, and when my eye catches something I think to myself "Oooh, that's a pretty picture!" I just get warm fuzzies when I find new recipes to try, come across clothing styles I am determined to copy, or discover projects I want to do.

Lately I've been particularly inspired by the whole "upcycling" movement that turns trash into treasure; especially since making little out of nothing is a quality my ancestors possessed. My Great Grandma lived through the depression and as a result of such hard times, saved everything to re-purpose. We are talking about saving plastic bread bags to weave into waterproof rugs for the back door. NOTHING would ever go to waste!

One evening as I was pinning away, I came across a site that had a marvelous upcycling project. The lady was needing storage bins for a new cabinet in her home. Not wanting to spend boo-koos of money on baskets, she whacked the wings off of her child's cardboard diaper box, painted it, covered it in burlap, embellished it, and created a beautiful container! Having two empty diaper boxes myself, and needing some storage for records, I decided to copy her genius. Because diaper boxes don't mean too much to me, I didn't fret over ruining anything, went wild with the hot glue gun and ended up having a lot of fun.

The whole project took me only about an hour or two and the end result has made perfect containers for our surplus of records. I was so excited to show Andrew once I'd finished - he could hardly believe they had once been diaper boxes! **WIN**

So, waddya think?

A Growing Nest!

Well friends, I've got a little something to share. I've been waiting to tell you because I wasn't sure it if was true or not. I was curious a few days ago and have been desperately wanting to find out for sure, but had to wait until Andrew was home for him to confirm with me. This morning just before breakfast we discovered that our suspicions were correct!!!

We never expected anything quite like this, but are SO excited. I didn't think something like this could happen so soon, but as we've found out, it is certainly possible. We are quite thrilled and very proud.

So the news is that... We have twins!!! :)

In case there are any doubters, I can confirm it with the pictures below!

Yes, yes, believe it or not, one of our hens, The Dread Pirate Roberts, did the unexpected and laid a double yolked egg!!! (What? Not the kind of news you were expecting? Sorry, I had to have a little fun with you guys.) ;)

I've gotta tell you, I was nearly beside myself when I went to gather eggs a couple of days ago and found this monster! I shot Andrew a text telling him I was pretty sure somebody had laid her first double yolk, but we didn't know until breakfast this morning. After all the work Andrew has done in building the coop, I figured it was only right for him to be present at the cracking. These milestone moments must be shared, you know.

The picture doesn't quite do it justice, but the egg on the left is a normal sized egg next to the behemoth.



I had forgotten that hens can plunk out a double yolk, so this was quite a fun surprise for this chicken-keeping lady. I had to laugh when Andrew saw the egg and commented: "Oooh, that had to hurt." However much it may have hurt, that egg sure did make a tasty breakfast.

Orange Cream Pav-whata

Yesterday afternoon I was inspired to go all out and make a fabulous dinner for a stay-in date night with my hubby. I realize from the past that some of our most fun evenings are when we make a special evening out of a normal one just because. So I went for it.

After a thorough analysis of what was in the fridge, what sounded good, which recipes I could find and how much time I had to work some magic, I finally decided on the following. We would have a chef salad to start, followed by simmered honey glazed carrots, with a main dish of roasted rosemary chicken and some kind of dessert. It was the "some kind of" that led me to browse through a recent edition of the Everyday Food magazine.

The search through the fridge revealed two things concerning a dessert. The first being that the hens have been super productive of late, and the second being that I've slacked off on using up their eggs and had a HUGE bowl full of the beauties. With this knowledge, I was hoping to find a recipe that threw caution to the wind and required crazy egg use. And I found one! On page 91 of issue 88, my eyes were captured by a fluffy, puffy, orange creamy thing on a beautiful pink platter. I had all of the ingredients (including the required eight eggs), so I dove into making an "Orange Cream Pavlova".

The bottom layer is a meringue which involves beating a pinch of cream of tartar and 5 large eggs whites into stiff peaks, then gradually whipping in 3/4 c. of granulated sugar. Unless you have aggression issues and want to beat these puppies by hand, I'd suggest using a mixer. Once this concoction is mixed, you pour it onto a pan lines with parchment paper, using a spatula to make a 10 inch circle of puff, then bake it at 200* for 2 hours. Once the baking time is up, you turn the oven off and let it sit for a few of hours to dream about dating the Michelin Man or the Abominable Snowman. Seriously, don't disturb it. Let it dream while it can.

Next, comes the orange curd. Oh yes, read it once again, but a bit more slowly, savoring in the implications of flavor: O.r.a.n.g.e C.u.r.d

For this zippy delight, you need to mix 3/4 c. granulated sugar with 8 large egg yolks (ya-huh, eight!), 2 T. orange zest, plus 1/2 cup strained fresh squeezed orange juice, 1/4 c. lemon juice, and a pinch of fine salt. Since I love you guys and am also prone to strange things happening to me, I have a tip for you. When using a grater or zester for the orange, please make sure your knuckles are out of the way. Yeah, I uhhh...well, let's just say I got a little excited about using my new zester and very nearly turned my orange into a different colored variety. Oh, and since neither Andrew or I bit into anything unusual last night, I can also suggest your keeping your fingernails from accidentally jumping in on the zesting action. Just a thought.

So, with these tips in mind, combine all of these (unbloodied and unfingernailed) ingredients in a metal sauce pan, then crank up the heat to medium, stir constantly until it thickens then pour it through a sieve into a heat-proof bowl. It will help to use to spatula to push the curd through the mesh. Place the orange curd in the fridge to cool for later use. WARNING: If your finger happens to fall into the curd mix once it's cool, be warned that it might want to jump in again. Fingers and curds kind of have a thing for each other, so keep alert.

The final thing you must do before the fabulous dessert comes together is to whip up 1 and 1/4 c. of cold heavy whipping cream with 1 T. confectioner's sugar. You'll know you're done whipping when you have fluffy peaks resembling a miniature version of the Alps. Set this tiny range in the fridge next to the curd so they can contemplate their final destiny. If you check on them as much as some people might (and I'm not say who), they may realize their ultimate purpose in life is to be combined and consumed. But go easy on em, they haven't long to live.

With all of this prep work done, go enjoy your dinner as my hubby and I did. Take your time to eat. Rest a while. You've just worked your tushy off whipping, stirring and zesting (remember, knuckles optional).

When you're finally ready for dessert, pull the love-sick meringue circle out of the oven and place it on a pretty dish. A cake plate works nicely. Head to the fridge and retrieve your delectable curd and cream friends (who have no doubt have been awaiting their doom the whole time you took to savor your dinner). Spoon the orange curd onto the meringue, completely covering it, and then top it with the whipped cream. The magazine recommended garnishing this beautiful pile of caloric air with shaved white chocolate. You could also sprinkle a little orange zest on top for color, but do remember what I've told you about zesters! With this done, VOILA, you have your fantastic dessert ready to be adored before being sliced and devoured. Mind your slice sizing because though the pavlova is airy, it is pretty rich.

Once you've annihilated every hint of the pavlova on your plate, I highly recommend finding a place to collapse into a sugar coma. And make sure it's a comfortable spot because it may be a while before you wake up. And definitely stay away from the carpet...just in case your knuckles are still bleeding. ;)



*Picture courtesy of MS EveryDay FOOD Magazine

A Poem

Life with Chickens - An Original Poem

Oh, a life with chickens
Their buns so full of fluff,
They never fear a critic
For hens, tis trivial stuff.

They graze in the grass
Their glutes high in the air,
Pecking keeps them busy
From cameras, unaware.

Snip-snap, pictures are taken
Of fluff so glossy and sleek,
Photographer must be quick
Lest they see and free a squeak.

Oh, a life with chickens
Laying eggs beautiful and fine,
They run about and make me laugh
I'm glad these hens are mine.

Another(?!) Wild Hair

A week or two before my crazy rag curling encounter, I was experiencing what might be best described as having a case of bag-lady hair. In the event that you're not familiar with what I'm talking about, let me offer a definition.

Definition of Bag-lady hair: "Dry, ratty, and lifeless hair; having no moisture or controllable body whatsoever; hair devoid of any hint of sexiness or appeal."

In case you still don't understand, here is the picture that went along with the definition:


Scary, huh?

Hoping to catch Andrew before he decided that head-coverings were mandated somewhere in the Bible, I knew I'd need to act fast. As any woman with herbal-remedy tendencies would do, I immediately began researching what kind of concoction would cure my condition. Would it be some ever faithful coconut oil? Maybe a touch of tree sap mixed with a bit of dirt? Or perhaps a dose of cod liver oil applied at midnight while balancing a chicken on my head?

The solution came to me in the form of a premixed powder purchased from an online herb supplier. It took two days to ship so I had to keep my head low until it arrived. Meals by candlelight provided the perfect excuse for my head not to be entirely visible to my husband. That is until I could bring sexy back. **Cue the music, Justin.*

After what seemed like waiting an eternity, the mailman pulled up to our box, stepped outside of his truck and was met by yours truly at our front door. He seemed like a nice man, but awfully quiet and with big eyes. Looking back, it was probably my hair that stunned the poor man into silence. Little did I know that this would be the first of a series of times I'd scare people approaching our stoop.

As with nearly any project I set out on, I had to wait until Olivia went down for her nap before I could begin. A few seconds after she was tucked in and had her sweet cheeks lovingly patted, I was off to the kitchen. I felt like a scientist as I read the detailed instructions and carefully mixed my concoction. A big scoop of the green powder, two chicken eggs (surely the fact that they were still warm from the hen would add an extra punch!), and yes, a bit of coconut oil, all mixed in and warmed to perfection. Things were looking good...until I took a deep breath. There was a very good reason a review kindly suggested doing this treatment when your husband was out of the house. Once the green powder hit liquid, a potent grassy aroma began bubbling up from the pot. And they expect me to put this on my head?!



Once the brew finished simmering, I bravely marched into our bathroom with my supplies in tow. Pot of bubbling goo...check! Application spatula...check! Clear plastic produce bag...check! Used and abused old towel...check! I was ready. I stood before the bathroom mirror thinking about what I was about to do. After a deep breath, I took the plunge.



Smearing my fair hair with green mud seemed extremely counter intuitive. However, I am rather trusting of a good herbal remedy when I find one, so I continued smearing until my head looked like this:



I am pretty sure it was after this point that I shot Andrew a text to make sure he wouldn't be coming home early that evening. The instructions said to slip the plastic bag over my head (kids, don't try this at home!), wrap it in a warm towel and let it ruminate for 45 minutes to an hour. Fortunately for me, though my husband figured I was up to something, he didn't question when I explained that I was simply making sure he wouldn't be home to find a plastic bag on my head. Oh how I love that man!

With an hour on my hands, and yes, I assumed it would definitely take a full hour to achieve super sexy hair, I figured I'd have a cup of tea and catch up on some housework. I won't even tell you what the chickens said when I went to collect eggs.



Once the allotted time was up, I jumped into the shower to rinse away stench the near equivalent of horse manure and release the gorgeous hair I had wandered so far from. It took a good bit of picking through with a hair brush before the green goo released itself and washed down the drain. A lot of rinsing, followed by drying, a touch of curling and a bobby pin for the bangs produced a nearly new head! My hair felt soft, sleek, and all those other cheesy adjectives they use in hair commercials. I had enough time to lip-sync the first and only line I know of "I'm Bringin' Sexy Back" while slapping on a little make-up...just in time for Olivia to wake up.

Being bald and having a touch of hair-envy, she immediately noticed Mommy's pretty hair and gave it her highest level of approval (by attempting to eat it). Desiring to maintain the level of shine for when Andrew arrived home, I diverted her attention to a toy as well as saved her from experiencing the residual taste of green horse poopy.

I still have enough powder for a few more applications (which I'm sure I'll need this winter!), so if you're ever in the neighborhood and want to give it a whirl, we can have a cup of tea while your head steeps. I promise not to laugh at you. Maybe.

Destination: Hobby Lobby

I'm afraid I have succumb to the siren known as "Hobby Lobby". Her ads have tempted me for the past few weeks, and after picking up our Azure co-op, my vehicle was quickly sucked into the vortex of her parking lot. It's okay though, because there was a front row parking space available just for me, which of course I took as a sign from God, smiling down on lil ole me, seeing as how I was in pursuit of beautifying the earth.

For those who may fear this story to be a tragedy, fear not! I entered the lair of creativity armed with a list! I was focused, determined, and not to be sidetracked by any fancies that might deter me from my real mission.

My mission was to use things we already had, and find a few things to embellish and inexpensively decorate this:


Olivia did her best to hang onto the cart as her Mommy darted in and out of aisles searching for just the right things. She was a peach while we spent an hour *cough* (or two) hunting around. Her patience and smiling at everyone we passed was rewarded with a rice cookie (puffed rice) on the way home.

After much deliberation, calculating, and talking everything over with Olivia (who seemed to understand the plan perfectly), we checked out and rushed home to make the transformation. Andrew called to let me know when he'd be home, so as soon as the munchkin went down for her nap, exhausted from helping me make so many decisions at Hobby Lobby, I had exactly one hour to go to work.

Despite having to do some painting, hairspraying (???), ribbon cutting and branch fraying, I finished in about 30 minutes. When Andrew arrived, he saw a silly grin on my face and knew I'd been up to something. He was most obliging when I asked him to remove his boots, close his eyes and allow me to lead him through the house to my masterpiece. The poor guy stepped on a stray soggy apple bit or two passing Olivia's highchair, and I may or may not have stolen a few kisses whilst leading him to the living room. In the end, his patience was rewarded when planted him before the mantle and told him to open his eyes to reveal the finished product.

TA-DA!:


He thought it was wonderful and I stood there with my hands clasped, giddily admiring my creation. The distressed cream frame was a recycled garage-sale find, and if you'll notice in the bottom right corner; a little nest tucked into the crevice. It's the very same nest I found in our Christmas tree, now reinforced with hairspray (ahh, that's where the hairspraying came in) and the home to three little painted eggs. I am delighted with how it turned out and it's one of those things that gives me warm fuzzys.

Closer picture to show the detail:


Whaddya think?!

Totes Tubular Rant

I'm sick. Well, maybe not entirely sick, but my head is stuffy, nose is drippy and it's just not a pretty sight folks.

With this said, in case this post steps on any toes, perhaps you will excuse my rant as some delusion related to my being ill. "Aww, poor thing. She's clearly out of her mind. I think I'll excuse her. Maybe just this once."

So here's my beef:
What in the world is up with so many people abbreviating words that were never meant to be abbreviated?!

For example the "new" words: Presh and Totes

Have the words "precious" and "totally" suddenly become too long to say? Are we getting too lazy to stick it out for an extra syllable or two?

When I first came across these "new" words (mostly via social network), I was rather confused. A person had commented on one of my friend's photos with the letters: "P-r-e-s-h". When I read this I felt sorry for the person who obviously intended to write "Press". I was furthermore curious if they knew their lisp was carrying over through their computer keys. How embarrassing.

Another instance was hearing someone who probably meant to respond to their friend in the affirmative, but ended up saying "Totes!" instead. I can only assume that this person got sidetracked and suddenly remembered that she needed to bring her library bag or reusable grocery bags with her. Oh well, a common mistake. Not.

So why do I care so much?

Well, maybe it's because I want to defend the English language. It may not be the most beautiful one out there, but if it's yours, speak it proud. (Urr, you know what I mean.)

Or maybe it's because it reminds me of a childhood memory. When I was in middle school, the word "cool" was very popular. I'm sure it had been popular at some other point in time, but it was one of the current "in" words. As any youth might do, I tested it's usage at home before throwing it out in a conversation with my friends. My Dad heard me say "cool" a number of times in succession and teasingly asked if I needed a sweater. "Har-de-har-har, Dad." It put him in mind of words popular in his day. Words like "gnarly", "rad", and "tubular". Hearing him utter such "un-cool" words accompanied with a certain throw-back of his head as each one exited his mouth made me think twice about how "cool" it might or might now be to use popular words.

So, with this I rest my case: I may not be using any current words, but perhaps I need to realize that I am getting older (good heavens, can it be?), should let the kiddies have their fun with words, and keep calm...unless a grown woman says "presh" in place of the adjective "precious". At that point I just might lose it.

A little credit please

I would like to take a moment to give our hens a little recognition.

They have endured drought, extreme heat, lost a few comrades in the trenches...urr, coop (which you know of course could have caused extreme chicken depression...if they weren't so resilient), have ignored the presence of lurking skunks and opossum, have braved being driven at 75mph down a freeway, crossed a large river, survived a 250 mile trip, and are now making the transition into becoming domesticated city chickens. The country will always be in their hearts, but they will sojourn on into new territory of being suburb-chicks with their heads held high.

In spite of the horrors they've faced, they still take pride in producing some mighty beautiful eggs.

So hens, here's to you and your dark yolked, thick shelled, delicious eggs!

A Wild Hair

There, I've gone and done it. I'm officially the biggest dork in the county, maybe even the whole dang state. Lemme esplain...

A while back my sister-in-law wrote an inspiring blog post on hot rollers and has since revealed that rag curls put a beautiful spring into her gorgeous hair. My hair is quite opposite from my sis's, being STICK straight, very fine, and mostly un-gorgeous when it comes to doing fun things with it.

After Grace's blog post I tried hot rollers and had little success. With the move over, the house mostly put together, and a full night's sleep behind me (PRAISE THE LORD!), I figured today would be a great time to give rag rolling a try. After a few errands which included dropping some lunch off for the hubby, and picking up 40lbs of chicken feed, it was time to put the girl down for her nap and start rollin.

While I'm thinking of it, in case you were wondering, if you ever find yourself needing to pick up FORTY POUNDS of chicken feed, please remember to bring your baby carrier, or cart cover. The option of carrying your child in one arm AND pushing a rolling flat that, once loaded with chicken pellets, will only want to go in the direction of a hard right, will result in your being so miscombobulated that you try to check out on the opposite side of the check out lane. It will also invoke such sympathy from the checker that he asks to help you to your car. Anyway...that's just a bonus thought for you there.

So after errands and my girl went down for her nap, I cut up a much loved, over-worn t-shirt into strips, wet my hair and began rolling. I believe I did a fairly good job of partitioning my hair out, and managed to do a decent job on my first try. As the final curl is rolled, I look in the mirror at my moppy head and think "Thank the Lord no one has to see me like this!"

Then my phone rings.

It's the insurance lady: "Yes Mrs. Borne, in order to finish the process, we need to come by and collect a sample of your saliva. When is a good time for me to come by?"

Me: "Umm.....well sometime tomorrow would work."

Ins. lady: "Well actually, I'm in your area today.....would this afternoon work? Say in about 30 minutes?"

Me: "Oh, yes, that will work. **insert inner feeling of horror** Umm, this may sound strange, but as fair warning, I just put my hair in rag rollers so I look a little strange." Thinking: Good grief, that was a dumb thing to say. Did you NEED to say that?

Ins lady: "Oh. **crickets chirp** That's fine."

When she got here she did her best not to look bewildered. I felt obligated to tell her that I don't normally do this, that my hair is straight and I wanted to see what it would look like curly...blah-blah-blah...all with a little saliva sample stick protruding forth from my mouth. Yes, it was rather embarrassing. These curls had better look pretty beautiful for the trouble they've caused.

Life is a comedy, and in case you haven't had a good laugh today, here ya go....



"Come to collect my saliva, have you? Well come right on in...."

Pajama-Mama Day

It's after 1pm. I'm still in my pajamas. I also have a robe stylishly thrown over them. It's a leopard print fleece robe so that's why it makes my ensemble "stylish". Right?

Why, you might ask, am I still in my pj's?

Because there is a teething child in the house.

Because she got up 4 times last night. (At least that's how many times I remember.)

Because she was screaming bloody murder over two teensy pearly whites that evidently brought the pain of an elephant sitting on her gums.

Because each time I woke up to the wailing, I rolled over, in complete denial that I was the ONLY person in the ENTIRE WORLD who could solve her problems.

Because each time I dragged (or is it drug?) my tired self out of bed, my feet hit the cold tile in the hallway and served as a sharp reminder that it's winter I was not in my cozy bed with my hubby where I so badly wanted to be.

Because after trying the normal feed her, offer teething tablets, pat the bottom, rub the back, sing a song and dance routine, wouldn't always make things better.

Because once she finally calmed down, I'd sit in the rocker, half dazed in tiredness and relief, soaking in that my baby was peacefully snuggling with me.

Because I was rudely awakened (the final time) by a fluffy red hen who believes, being the dominant hen, that she is a rooster and therefore needs to crow. At least she attempts to crow. It's more like a warbled squawking. This noise is rather obnoxious and makes the other hens flee to the safety of their house.

Because I had to throw cereal at said "crowing" hen to get her to shut up.

Because today, I feel like a zombie.

That's why.

The Weekend

Hooray for the weekend!

There are just some days that I feel like I'm holding my breath until Andrew is home for the weekend. It is such a delight to sleep in (that is until the munchkin wakes up), and start the morning with a nice cup of hot coffee and some reading. This morning's coffee decided it wanted to jump into my lap. Andrew was in the other room during this rather awkward event and heard yelps from the living room as I squeaked through my clumsiness and rather scalding blunder. So much for maintaining any points towards trustworthiness in consuming food/beverages in the living room. **sigh**

Today was a particularly gorgeous day in our part of the world. The sun was shining, the normally piercing wind had died down into a calm breeze, and it was a perfect day to catch a few rays and soak up some vitamin D. I'm so glad we were able to capitalize on such a day as it is 1) rare for this time of year, and 2) cold bitter weather is just around the corner. While sitting outside I had a front row seat to witness the hen's pecking order. Milk Toast has JUST started laying and for some reason prefers to nest in the shavings of their house instead of the nesting boxes. She isn't as secluded in the house, so anytime she went to leave her egg, Red would take the opportunity to stir her up and kick her out of the house! She's such a bossy girl, but while she was distracted by some food, Milk Toast managed to leave her little brown golf ball egg.

In case I hadn't mentioned it enough earlier, I LOVE the weekends! Another reason for my enjoyment is getting to see my two favorite people interact throughout the day. Olivia loves spending time with her Daddy, and it's such a blessing to tag-team with taking care of her.

Anticipating some rather yucky weather in the coming week, I figured I ought to get my grocery shopping done early. My fabulous husband offered to keep the kiddo while I was out. I had forgotten how quickly errands can be run when one isn't lugging around a little person...WOW! It felt so weird being alone, but rather nice at the time. I felt so free in fact that upon exiting the grocery store I lost my mind and rode the cart down to my car. Hehe. For any property damage freaks out there, rest assured that the lot was nearly empty and yes, I did look both ways before flying down, gripping the metal handle. :)

I'm off now to make a last check for eggs and have time with that wonderful husband of mine. Happy weekend to you all!

2012 so far...

It's been a good day.

We started off the morning by visiting a church on our list. Olivia was a perfect peach during our time there and received many praises for her good behavior. That's always encouraging to hear!

A delightful discovery was that one of our newer, more shy hens (known as The Dread Pirate Roberts) seems to have decided her new year's resolution is to start laying eggs! She's a barred rock and just laid a beautiful brown egg with chocolate brown flecks.

My brother is here for a visit. He's turned into most excellent company. It's funny to think of how we used harass each other when we were little, and now what a joy it is to have him around. Does getting married have anything to do with that? Hum...

For dinner (a gluten free one at that), we had a rather delicious meal of herb roasted chicken, baked sweet potatoes, onions, and garlic cloves smothered in gravy, with a side of vinegar dipped cucumbers...and more gravy. I love that stuff. Really, I do.

With the baby fed, bathed, kissed and now sleeping soundly in her bed, we big people are gathered near a roaring fire in the living room. The lights are dim, there's a bowl of almond chocolate toffee to be nibbled, the scent of the guy's excellent pipe tobacco wafting toward the chimney, and a selection of Glen Miller, Franky and Nat King Cole crooning from the record player.

I'm wrapping up a blog post and heading to find my place in a very good theology book.

It's been a good day.