The Versatile Blogger Award

Thank you to for nominating me for this award. I may be slow to respond to these, but I do enjoy getting asked random questions!


1) thank the blogger who tagged you and link to the blog

2) nominate at least 10 bloggers, and link to their sites

3) inform them about their nomination 

4) reveal 7 facts about yourself that your readers may not know

7 possibly unknown facts about me:

1. I have broken my neck before in a particularly horrendous car crash that also cut off 3 fingers on my left hand (a skilled Emory surgeon was able to reattach them)

2. I love to shoot pool. I’m a 9-ball player at heart. (8-ball and 9-ball are two completely different mindsets)

3. I am allergic to tomatoes but will suffer the consequences for a scratch made baked ziti

4. An unpopular opinion I hold: I don’t like kids, not even a little bit. My husband’s granddaughters just spent the weekend with us and it was like one of the seven circles of hell for me because that was 2 too many children in 1 RV

5. Another unpopular opinion I hold (some would call it blasphemy, even): sweet tea is hot nuclear trash.

6. The proper way to eat cornbread is crumbled, with black-eyed peas on top of it.

7. I hate pink, yet I currently have a closet full of it. (Bonus fact: I might have a shopping problem)

I am totally out of spoons, and can barely think of my own name right now, so I’m not capable of thinking about nominating people for this. I apologize  for being such a shit, but I really feel like he’ll this afternoon. 


Blue Sky Tag

Thank you, Nusrath Sariffo’deen (Diary of a Muslim Girl) for nominating me for the blue sky tag. I shall now attempt to answer your questions so that the world can get to know me better the way I got to know you a little better reading your questions and answers.

  1. Describe yourself in one word: Recovering. I am a recovering addict. I am also treating depression and anxiety. So recovering is the word I think describes me.
  2. Coke or Pepsi? Neither, but if I have to choose one, then Coke. The Mexican Coke, made with actual sugar and not that high-fructose-muckity-muck
  3. Desk: messy or organized? I prefer organized, but I often let it get messy when I don’t have time to do all the things I think I want to do. I can’t stand clutter.
  4. Pet Ownership: which is better, dog or cat? Depends on what we’re talking about. Cats are better for rodent control, and they require less attention. However, my little doggie Mollie is the best for reminding me to stay in the moment, love with my whole heart, and play like it’s the most joyful thing ever
  5. Things to do: which is better, sing or dance? That’s another hard one, since I do neither well LOL. I guess sing, since it is less taxing on my COPD lungs
  6. Are you always early or terminally late? Early. Always.
  7. What is your favorite book you read as a child? Um, probably the nursery rhyme book we had in the living room. There was one little rhyme about a purple cow that I loved. “I never saw a purple cow/I never hope to be one/but if there were a purple cow/I’d rather see than be one”
  8. What is your all-time favorite joke? “What’s grosser than gross? Eating a rump roast and it farts!” (sorry, inside I’m really just a 12 year old boy or something, farts are funny)
  9. Who is the funniest person you know? Hands down, Sunshine. That man can make me laugh until my abdominal muscles hurt and my lungs feel like they’re going to deflate explosively
  10. What is your favorite word? Probably motherfucker. I actually had a drug-court treatment plan, signed by a judge, that read “I will not use the word motherfucker in any variation in group therapy sessions for two weeks”. (The judge read it, raised an eyebrow, looked at my counselor; she replied “Your honor, I assure you that it’s necessary” and he signed it. And yes, that is the entirety of the treatment plan for that two week period.)
  11. What is your least favorite word? apathy. I hate the word, I hate what it means, I hate that it manifested itself in my life for the last few years. Hence the depression and anxiety treatments that led me to choose “recovery” as my one word description.

final note: I can’t think of 11 people to nominate right now, I’m so busy trying to get laundry and food preservation caught up that I almost forgot I had been selected for this challenge. Again, thank you to Nusrath for tagging me!

Out of character

We went looking for exterior doors on Saturday. We went to the Habitat for Humanity ReStore in the northern part of the DFW Metroplex, because our budget is tight and the ReStore is all eco-friendly repurpose reuse recycle and shit.

We actually did find some doors we liked, but that’s not what I’m here to talk about today. The doors will get their own post as they came unfinished.

What I’m here to talk about is how I did something completely out of character for me. I found a couch. You might be thinking that finding a couch is a normal thing for any human to do when they have to buy a smaller couch to fit their new home, and you’d be correct. The “out of character” part lies in the couch I picked.

I’m a minimalist. I’m a minimalist almost to the point of brutalism. I like modern, minimal, clean lined things. I like all that Scandinavian modern stuff, I like mid-century modern stuff. I like modern, I like minimal.

However, the couch I picked is anything but modern and minimal. The couch I picked is the most ridiculous thing I can imagine. I shit you not–I picked a fucking ridiculous couch.

Without further ado, I give you the ridiculous couch.

ridiculous couch 2

ridiculous couch

Is this couch not the most ridiculous thing you’ve seen today? Perhaps it’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve seen ever. Except for maybe monkey butlers. I don’t think there’s anything truly more ridiculous than a monkey butler, because who wants a butler that throws poo?

The orange and gold striped cushions didn’t come with the couch. I didn’t want them anyway. I like how the back of the couch is so high, and tilted back a bit. I also like how the arms of the couch curve around a bit. That will help hold the ass cushions in place. It’s also a bit like the couch is reaching around to give you a hug. I’ll find some better back cushions for this couch–cushions that feel like marshmallow hugs or some shit.

final note: yes, it’s too early to be thinking about couches and shit when we don’t even have any walls built or anything. But it was the ReStore, and who knows if it would have been there when we DID get ready for a couch. Also? Yes, I know it needs some serious cleaning. I’ll get to that before we move it into the house.

My Kitchen Book

My girl Tia makes the awesomest shit. She made me this really cool kitchen book for Christmas.

It has categories so that I don’t have to search through every single page to find what I’m looking for.

It has pockets that will hold things I’ve clipped from boxes and such.

It has lots of different cool papers throughout so that I don’t get bored.

It even has meal planner pages and conversion charts

I sat down yesterday and started adding some stuff to it.

Stuff that I like to make, like pancakes


side note: that pancake recipe is a total fucking pain in the ass but my gawd the pancakes are to-die-for

Stuff that I like to eat but may or may not ever make, like Granny’s coconut pie recipe in her handwriting

granny fowler's coconut pie

side note: mom says the recipe is a pain in the ass to make but she wouldn’t un-ass the recipe. Probably because it is her mother’s handwriting, for which I do not blame her.

Stuff that I probably will make like Grandmother’s vegetable casserole or Granny’s apple cobbler

And shit that I definitely will never make, like 10,000 chocolate chip cookies (for which I have a recipe used on the USS Forrestal)




This book is a way to keep my kitchen shit organized, yes. But even better than that, it is a way to preserve a few little pieces of family and home. I get why my mother wouldn’t un-ass the coconut pie recipe, and I’m glad she at least let me take a picture of it so that I could have a bit of my Granny’s handwriting too. I will probably be spending quite a bit of time either printing some of these recipes, or transferring them to pages in my little book. It’s a great way to feel like a productive homesteader even though I’m still not at 100% with my back and hip.

I think I’ll start by transferring that pound cake recipe to my new book.

final note: I need to get Tia to make me one of these for my clothes, shoes, and accessories. Many of my things are more than just clothes–they have stories behind them. Also, a journal about my clothes might help me shop more mindfully.

Got to be a little creative today

I’ve been having trouble with getting dressed lately. It’s been cold (ish) and the north wind is making it really un-fun to be outside, but we’ve been trying to reach a good stopping point with the build site before Sunshine has to head out of town again. So I’ve been having to pile on multiples of layers to stay warm while I help him. It’s made getting dressed a chore; I’m uninspired to put together an outfit I like when I know that I’m just going to be piling shit on to prevent hypothermia as I crawl around in a bunch of fucking dirt.

Today, I had some time to get creative and take some boring warm layers and add some visual interest to them. I also give myself bonus points for figuring out a way to do so without running to the store and buying anything. I asked Sunshine if the mortar color he uses for his spray-on limestone product caused permanent stains on clothes. His answer was “indeed, but those colors will come out…” (What I heard after that was kind of blah-blah-blah, but I got the gist of it–the colors would be muddier, less saturated than the actual mortar color pigments look like they would.)

I took the two sweaters I was angriest at (a lavender base layer and a tan tunic) and gathered up my supplies. Sunshine dug up some black and some brown mortar colors, and I got myself some gloves and a spoon (because I didn’t want to dye my fingers, just the sweaters).

I wet them down with lukewarm water and proceeded to sprinkle them with spoonfuls of mortar color pigments. After I was satisfied with the mess I had created, I hung them on the clothesline to marinate.


I went about my business with the shovel for a few hours until the neighbor showed up looking for Sunshine. He took a look at what I was doing, and said he was interested to see what the sweaters looked like after a rinse.


Thus far, I’m pretty pleased with the results. I’ve left them hanging out there to marinate some more before I give them a proper washing. I especially like the variations within the tan sweater. There are some black spots in the tan sweater because, apparently, I didn’t clean my work surface properly in between sweaters. I ain’t mad at it, though.

Once I’ve given them a proper laundering (in my laundry pod, not the electric machine, because this mortar color will fuck up some clothes if it doesn’t rinse out completely), I’ll be so glad to have some warm layers that don’t bore me to tears. The colors I added may fade a bit more when I wash them, but I’m OK with that since I really really like things that look like they survived the apocalypse and faded colors fit that bill perfectly.

final note: seriously, mortar color will fuck some shit up. While it contains no lime that would destroy the fibers, it is some serious pigment that is designed to change the color of shit like rocks, bricks, mortar, grout, cement, and such. Do not try this at home. If you DO decide to try using mortar color as fabric dye, I am not responsible for any stained skin or ruined clothes.

Happy Birthday, Mollie!

Mollie is our rescue baby. Sunshine adopted her from the animal rescue in Shreveport as my Valentine’s day present about five and a half years ago. When I first took her to the vet, they estimated her to be five months old, which meant she was probably born in October. I decided, on the spot, that my Mollie’s birthday was Halloween.

Every year, we have celebrated Mollie’s birthday on Halloween. She has no concept of trick-or-treat, but she sure does like opening her birthday present every year (which is usually just a gift bag stuffed with little rubber squeaky toys and a lot of tissue paper because she has as much fun tearing up the paper as she does checking out the new toys).

Mollie isn’t spoiled at all. She just knows that gift bags are fun, and that even if there isn’t a squeak toy inside, it’s still fun to stick her nose in there and dig around.




Sometimes, I dress her up for Halloween, which she thinks is not a fun thing to do at her birthday party. This year, she was a chihuahua or something.


Don’t worry, I only leave the costume on her long enough to get a picture then she gets to wear her birthday suit again.

Happy Birthday, Mollie, mummy loves you!