Home From the Holidays

My title sounds like one of those horrible Christmas comedies that plague us come out every year doesn't it? This year when the season came along it kidnapped me for good measure. No longer am I in Iowa with my sister, the Microblogologist, but back home with the whole famn damily. The peace and quiet is gone and it's back to the regular chaos that is my world. When can I book another trip again?

No no don't take that as a horrible comment. I really did miss being in action and my bratling. Caring for my sister is quite similar but she's much lower maintenance than a five year old; sweet mercy. Alas, as many of you whelp-wranglers would know it is impossible to get used to silence when you have a kid whose job in life is to make you dread it. Things quickly become just too quiet and surrounding yourself with other sounds doesn't quite cut it. I loved me my Iowa trip something big but I missed my whelp as well. Perhaps Summer will be a promising time to combine the two worlds into one super mix.

Poor Pa, he was stuck at home sick and with kid-wrangling duties at the same time as well. You become aware of how much something was needed as soon as it's gone. He really missed me. Kid's going to readjust to having her main disciplinarian back. Poor poor whelp. Not that she minds, yet. First thing she did when I was spotted was attach herself to my leg in a death grip hug and allowed me to indulge myself in kissies and hugs and cuddles... until she remembered that she had her other Auntie right there whose far more indulgent than I am. With a prompt, "You're squishing me!" and patented Limp-Kid-Squirm she managed to escape. Mom, or GRA as we have taken to calling her learned tha I made every holiday treat that she normally makes. Such as the coveted, high demand, and always gone after a day or two, Kolackies.

Which by the way; I learned the hard way the dough needs to be cold to work with and you need to flour the table really well because this dough is a horrible horrible sticker when room temperature and yet useless when over floured. Me and my sister wanted self gratifying indulgence and seeing as these pastry/cookies are always given out to GRA's work and such we impulsively chose to make a batch ourselves in order to get maximal enjoyment. That and so we wouldn't have to share. Cookies were made as well. Triple chocolate one's, those I cheated and used a premade cookie dough for. Our final holiday goodie of choice were lemon bars. A whole pan between two women lasts a while and in the end though we tried our best, there were three bas left that did not get eaten. What a shame.

I fattened my sibling up so well that come the end of my visit she has some weight to spare. She wasn't the only thing that needed some cushie, My fluff-butts aka, the pet rabbits I have were scrawny as well come the beginning of my trip to Iowa. It was a misunderstanding in their feeding, I thought they were eating more than usual when in all reality they were eating much less. Something looked off with the two and when I pet them, sure enough they were little bags of bone. Oh dear. One tearful housewife freak out later Pa went and fetched a couple bags of pellets and their meal plan was upped considerably*. Believe me when I say this. Had I have not figured this out when I did I would be minus two pets come somewhere during the trip. This was an issue that nearly had me cancel my trip all together**. Luckily Pa is a hero and fed the two about a cup of pellets a piece per day. That's four times more than they would normally need. I checked on them first thing when I got into the house and was relieved to see they gained back all their missing weight. Thank god. I can lower their intake to half a cup now for a bit and then bring them back to a fourth***. Maybe it's because I took my spider plants out of their diet...

Presents were dulled out not long later and kid has left a mess in the living room that I'll look into getting cleaned. Our house is usually a disaster area**** and so if I don't I just know when my housewife instincts for cleanliness overload and I go at that room with a borderline insane intent to see carpeting once more I'll find wrapping paper and toy packaging absorbed into the menagerie of mess for sure. I have no doubt in my mind that I'll be already finding all those fun plastic toys kid got from the folks via my feet as the rules of parenthood does so dictate. GRA got a cellphone, I don't know if that's a good thing or not yet. Time will tell how much I should dread her being able to call me anytime she wishes. Lucky for me she's a cheapskate. My gifts in which I received were as followed: A flask, a card from the folks filled with monies which I'll slowly spend away on my rabbits and bratling, and a remote controlled mini helicopter.

The flask has already been absconded with via my older but not the oldest sibling after she filled it with the rum she gave Pa. He didn't fill his flask yet, but like me he's always wanted one, something I find funny. The card is in a totally not at all stupid place where I'll probably lose it be able to keep track of it. The helicopter has been flown, crashed, and entangled in bratling's hair in what was one of my better piloting moments. I didn't get any pictures of the unwrappings for this year, I'll be able to sumarize how they would have looked in this picture of Pa and GRA that features Pa doing our families' traditional hand gesture*****.
Awww Pa...


-----copying Microblogologist who copies LiteralDan's section------

*I had stopped buying the rabbit pellets for a while because the place I get my hay doesn't have the best prices for it and yet the pet store is out of the way. Something I retrospectively should not have done without supplimenting the rabbits' diet with something else first.

**The folks have a bad record when it comes to taking care of the bun-buns. Often times I come home to a disaster whenever I leave my pets in their care, making me hesitiate because of the newly added complications upping the needed care level. This time they seemed to have gotten the hang of it and things were messy but otherwise intact.

***A fourth a cup of pellets a day per five pounds worth of rabbit is the vetrinarian consensus on how much of the stuff that they really need.

****The house is magical in that witin a few days of me going to town and cleaning it completely it always finds a way to be a mess all over again to the point you can't tell I had ever cleaned it at all. Possible gremlings?

*****No.... it's so not flipping the bird. Nope. It's the one fingered salute. That's totally different. We're not completely horrible when it comes to raising Bratling!
Not helping my case any here.

A Trip Back in Time ep.1

Hello friends, and welcome to the first episode of "A Trip Back in Time"!

Being stranded in Iowa whilst my sister, the Microblogologist, does her lab geek stuff and not having a bratling to occupy my time with makes an Unmarried Housewife a dull girl. You can only clean sooooo much in a day before an apartment finds itself just too clean and you're stuck with no other time-occupying cleaning. Of course usually that leads to cookie making and full course meals being planned and created but what do you think I am? Some kind of 1950's modeled housewife? Yeah I wish.



I'd so go gay for one of those... ;P

Digressing! Anyways I need a little adventure into a busy part of my rather mundane life. And so I'll listen to Mr. Peabody and entertain myself by going back in time and messing with watch how things played out for me. Considering I went AWOL in November, we shall start there. Which event shall I choose? Why only the best, most interesting, noteworthy of things. My best friend giving birth. So come along as we make our way to the super duper, handy dandy time machine! No! Not the Way-Back Machine! Our budget isn't that high.


Get outta here guys, you're cramping my style!

I present to you live, the Time o' Tron.

Yeah we like to live it up sometimes.

We're here! The date is November something-ish, 2008. And we find me in bed sleeping. It's been a late, late night and I went to bed a mere two hours prior. A knock upon the door woke me up from my slumbering and I was told of a phone message that was important. Instinctively I know nobody in their right mind calls me at this ungodly hour of seven a.m. and so it could only be one thing.

My best friend must've popped early.

I listen to the message confirming my suspicions. The poor girl after having one false labor, and then another stopped labor, has finally had a labor that was just too late to cancel. Those kids wanted out and nothing was going to stop them. I chatter away on the phone with not just my best friend but her mother and find out that it won't be until another six hours that I could go over there. Why not call me then? We shall never know...

Exhausted and sleep deprived I tried for a few more hours of sleep, something that I learned all too soon was not going to happen. My mind was too active once again, and everyone in the house just had to be as loud as possible. This included an appearance of none other than bratling who had to scream and whine at the top of her lungs, naturally. This was followed later by me waiting outside for my best friend's grandmother to go and pick me up. Bratling couldn't stand the idea of me leaving the house for anything and was giving me the most sad and pathetic faces and yowls for attention you could ever image from the window. By the time the nice lady came over I had a little girl clinging to me like a barnacle, crying for me to not go. I took one for the team and sacrificed my computer to make brat go back inside so I could go.

After a relatively pleasant ride I came upon a group of friends and family of our girl. Naturally they had to test my sleep deprived prowless by having me identify the guy in front of me. I made my guess and said something clever along the lines of, "Her brother?". I had a feeling I guessed wrong by the blanks stares. Someone corrected me, apparently he was her boyfriend...*
Oops. I did tell them I didn't really sleep. BFF was looking pretty good if I do say so myself. For someone who had a C-section and was drugged up, she was bright and perky. We did our hugs and talked and of course got to go down and see the kids. They were just the cutest things. Four pounds and change a piece, black haired, dark eyes, and I know they'll have a lovely natural tan from being Caucasian-Indian mixed. I told BFF she did such a nice job that she should make me a pair. Ha ha, it got me the stink eye and a weak, "can't laugh after a C-section" laugh.

It was probably afterwards whilst other of the family were visiting one at a time in the Infant-ICU that I noticed for the first time that the two women that earlier I had assumed were aunts, were not really aunts at all. You see, BFF doesn't want kids, and these miracle babies had managed to happen even with two forms of birth control and everything. She had considered abortion but found out soon enough that she just could not do it. So, like the movie "Juno", she went to pick out a family. I bet you know what I'm getting at now. Yes, these two women were who BFF picked out. They were nice, funny, and in general all around good people. My conservative Pa would have a cow, but seeing as I have a oddly large number of gay friends, I was not phased**.

The next set of days would be spent with me visiting daily for hours, up until bratlilng or Gra, whichever one it was, got me sick once more with the disease I'm carrying around with me now. Biohazards! The whole lot of them! By the time I get back from Iowa, the kids may just be living in their new home with their mommies. I should recommend blogging to them. How else will I be able to keep up so well with the mini-whelps? Besides my BFF of course. :)

----copying Microblogologist who copies LiteralDan section-----

*The first meeting with me and BFF's boyfriend involved a bar and me getting plastered. We're not going to admit that too openly. Oh! They're engaged now, so BFF's fiance is a more suitable term for modern reference.

**I could say at this point up to 40% of my friends are either bi or all out gay. My distinct lack of caring one way or another makes me the usual "first to come out to" girl. As such, any conversation that begins with: "I have something important to say to you" usually involves pregnancy or a sexual preference.

Time Machines and The Unmarried Housewife Migration

I'm so terrible putting my blog on the back burner to simmer while I went off to draw myself stupid. Naughty naughty Housewife! Well no there was more to it. I've been off and on sick, my best friend gave birth to two beautiful preemie girls whom are being adopted into a loving home and so I've been in and out of the hospital up until I got ill again, sleep deprivation took its loving toll upon me more than once*, and all in all November was a busy busy month! One of these days I'm going to have to build me up a time machine so you all can see all the amazing things** I did throughout the now gone November. Oh look at that over there! What is it?


Is that what I think it is?

Yes! A crudely made time machine! Future me must have known I would want to write about what happened to me throughout November and sent her Time o' Tron over so that I could. Aww.. and I didn't even get her a birthday card.

Well before I start making posts using my handy dandy... time machine! I have some big neato news.

The Unmarried Housewife Migration has landed me in Iowa with none other than my dear sister, the Microblogologist! Cheers everybody! See she visited during the mysterious and amazing month of November for thanksgiving and I joined her on the trip back to her home. So far so good, I did my housewifely duties and cleaned up a bit and set up my computer to laze about on. She's out doing her water dancing now. Then I shall enjoy my lunch***. We figure each others' company will help restore our sanities that have been dwindling for a while now. Goodness knows I just knew I had to come back and keep my sweet sister company right about when I saw her toting around a laminated picture of a person as her one and only companion. I think she was talking to it and everything.**** Seems I'll have my work cut out for me...



Oi vey.

----copying Microblogologist who copies Literal Dan----

*When I get colds and other respiratory issues I lose my ability to sleep. It causes me to randomly crash and sleep for hours.

**Amazing things differ from person to person. Please, ask your doctor if Amazing Things are right for you.

***I slept up until 5 pm when I got here. I label my meals numerically not by the time they occur. Other people eat lunch or dinner about when I can have "breakfast."

****It was the FlatWeaselMomma project, not my sister really going insane. Or is she? Dun dun duuunnnnn

Treats and Trouble

Halloween was a hit! Kid got her candy and my diet took a few steps back as I valiantly searched through Brat's candy for anything possibly dangerous. Bratling turned the tides on me and then started inspecting the candy too "just to make sure". We fail at this system because eating the candy to make sure it's not deadly or poisonous defeats the purpose of keeping each other safe. She was such a doll. Look at that little princess!


I'm glad this year did so well, last year didn't last two blocks before Kid wanted to go home. Then again you'd not want to keep going with the company we were with. Few days later Bratling took a dump on one of the offending parties coats. Lovely...

Nothing could stop the kid this year. The promise of all the candy you can get was too great and she was careening down the sidewalks as fast as she could get us to go. Pa and I decided soon enough she could go down the driveways by herself and ring the bells so long as we could see the door. We've gone to all these houses before for years and so we know them enough. I especially pick the old folks houses, seeing cute kids make their day.



No driveway was safe from the trampling of little kid feet either. Not even this one which Pa and I wisely hung back from going down and opted for just hanging out at the beginning. Those houses always give mucho candy for the effort.



After Halloween has been a wee ip more touchy. Remember in the last post I mentioned kid being a Biohazard. Well one of the members of our household got sick from Bratling and now has acute frontal lobe pneumonia. Joys. She lived through the night and was up and about this morning saving me the effort of poking her with a stick. Now kid's going in to the doctor just now to find out if she's kicking with anything bad too. That cough just does not want to go away. Pa and I are on the tail end of it now where I'm not so miserable and the cough's a minor nuisance.

It took one heck of a bribe to get kid to agree to go to the Doctor without a fuss. Yet again I'm pleased she's a gamer in training. She gets to play my new game, "Tasty Planet" upon completion of taking one for the health team. Score another for letting kid play video games!

I recommend "Tasty Planet" by the way. It's cute, fun, and challenging. Here's a trailer below. Little wonder kid loves watching me play it so:

Biohazard Bratling and Play D'oh

Why is it whenever I get sick the top of my list of disease spreading suspects ends up being Bratling? Probably because kids are just as bad as rats carrying the plague only they're much cuter. I'm a gullible creature by nature. When I hear a kid sniffling I don't quite equate it to them being sick and so when Bratling went to kindergarten and brought back more than just crayon drawings I didn't think anything about it.

More kisses from a snuffly kid? Yes please!

It's not that they just give you diseases. No. It's the fact that kids make it their job to spread their ailments all around that makes them such hazardous creatures to your health. It doesn't help the fact that Bratling is shoving varying things into her mouth lately. Yesterday I got on her case when I caught her chewing on a quarter. It gave "Gra" (that's grandma to the rest of you) a heart attack. As sure as the sun rises if it's something that comes in contact with her hands, it'll end up in her mouth. Bratling touches a gross surface, she then puts her fingertips in her mouth. Little wonder she is always dragging home new diseases. My immune system always ends up getting a workout with her around that's for sure.

I should label the kid with one of these.


Brat has a new favorite thing ever; Play-Doh. Yes, that nasty colored clay in a jar. I'm probably only saying that because Bratling has a love of mooshing the stuff into the carpeting. Not on purpose but it ends up on the floor and under her feet very easily. I'll take a shot in the dark and say that her shoes are coated in the muck right now. On the plus, she'll play with her Play-Doh for hours and hours on end and inevitably it dries up so I can get rid of it. For the price the crap costs that's a good investment. I keep getting handed long snake shaped clay pieces with demands that I transform them into varying animals for Bratling to moosh, cut up, and in general bring to a gory demise. I'm playing with the stuff almost as much as her from that.

The best was last night when we made a headcrab from half-life 2 and then a person. Naturally that quickly turned into a headcrab zombie for the kid to have walk about and enjoy. That's so incredibly cute. I got a gamer at the ripe age of five who's got a good taste in games. It brings tears to my eyes to pass on that torch. God I'm such a bad awesome influence. I don't see many other kindergartners with these do you?

That is so cool.

Extra credit points for those of you who can tell me how to get the crap out of my carpeting.

Caffeinated Addict

It's official, I've been given the title of "Junkie". It's all down hill from here. What terrible substance do I abuse myself with? What horrible secret addiction do I carry? What puts me into withdrawal symptoms and causes ungodly amounts of agitation in me when I don't get my fix?

Coffee. Also lovingly known as hot bean juice.



It was just the other day that Bratling and I were having our fun on the computer, my sweet nerd sister, the Microblogologist, on Skype's voice chat. When the headaches occurred. Ever had a withdrawal headache? They suck. It was either the pain or another symptom showing but I became the grouchiest crab in that instant and brat's every kid-thing suddenly grated on my nerves heavily. Naturally this means a trip to the coffee pot. That kitchen oasis of life that brings forth the hot bean juice I desperately need. As it brewed and I gawked at the slow slow trickling stream of coffee just not coming out fast enough I realized that this beverage is slowly taking over my life. What next? Turning tricks behind the back of a Starbucks for the needed shot of a double espresso?

I should quit! I should go upstairs now and dump that wretched stuff down the drain and check myself into rehab for my highly over exaggerated problem. Suffer through the pains of caffeine withdrawal locked away in my room and only come out once I'm cured then never touch the stuff again.

Then again, I'd rather not. It is after all a lot better for you than you might think as lovingly documented here:

The Health Benefits of Drinking Coffee - Upload a Document to Scribd

Cuppy Cake Horror Survival

Seeing as I don't think I have a post yet about something other than the whelps shenanigans let me go on and give you all a sweet little glimpse at one of the things that bring me such great joy in life. Video games. Yes! I am an admitted gamer. FPSs, Sims, Dumb Pet games, Fighting, Adventure, Puzzle (though they make me feel dumb), Old-School DOS! Give me a game and I'll play it. Except sports and racing, I was never really into those. My current old school piece of goodness game that I'm playing through is the original Silent Hill, my first horror survival game. How do those work? You try to get through and live in these games that like to startle you, scare you and in general make you freak out if you play the games late at night and in the dark by yourself.



Silent Hill is one of those few games I won't play in front of the kid. Surprisingly so, considering I normally play my horrible games whilst Bratling watches and cheers me on (Yes I am expecting some negative comments for that one). In my justification for my bad parenting skills I'll have to tell you: Kid's cartoons effect her drastically where as even my worst game has yet to make any impact on Whelpling's psych. I also figure she'll be blaming me for enough crap come teenagerdom so being the cool parental-esque figure who let's her enjoy a nasty video game form time to time isn't going to be at the top of the list of problems she'll be whining about. Reality around here, the older folks play games and so long as Bratling doesn't start trying to reenact her gaming experiences I'm cool with it. I've raised her so far playing these games and instilled in her that games are not real, you don't do the bad things in games in real life, and we don't talk about gaming to everyone. Those really are the biggest bases to cover.

Gaming around here is like Fight Club. Rule number one, we don't talk about gaming.

It's a taboo, I'll admit it. There was even a time I insisted on not touching a game rated over E when she was around but it was making her more upset than anything. Now after kindergarten I get a little kid running up to me happily saying, "I was good at school today like you said. Let's play Painkiller! I get to shoot this time and kill the monsters though." Awww... warms my heart.



Anyhoo, I digressed. Silent Hill I don't touch near the kid for probably only the singular reason that she drives me nuts whilst playing it. "The little girl's name is YOUR name Auntie! DO you hear static? Is there a monster? You must be hearing static! Hurry you got to save your little girl self!"

Oi, that's a horror game mood killer. Then again so is playing the "Cuppy Cake" song on loop whilst I'm playing the game but I keep doing that too. Oh well, I guess there really aren't any games I won't play around that kid. God I'm a bad influence...

Love, Giant Cricket

There comes a time in every caregivers life when they have to deal with the inevitable (and often irrational) fright of a child. Garbage Trucks (Ga-Hup!), Vacuum Cleaners, Storms, Fireworks, Weird photoshopped pictures of aye-aye owls... I could go on for ages about those horrible and scary things that terrify Bratling. The newest trend has leaned towards insects, one in particular will send my dear whelp into fits of terror induced shrieks (my ears shall never recover). Crickets.



Yes, one of the most harmless bugs we have around here and she screams at even the idea that they are near her. I know what must be done. I must nip this fear in the bud just as I did for the other grubby, giant bugs of the past.

Yes there was another bug she feared. They don't come around very often: the Cicada

Yes yes messy downstairs, I didn't finish cleaning it at that point.

Bratling didn't know what to think of those either, heck, she was downright scared of those big, loud bugs that had swarmed our suburbs. Needless to say before they were all gone I took the liberty to indoctrenate Whelp that those harmless giants were cool. Which they are.


See? happy kid.

I'm used to these quirky frights by now. Every new one that pops up I get rid of it in a process that reminds me of whack-a-mole. Nail one, another pops up. Every time I do so however, it is always in the insanest, most unorthodox ways. Because normal coping skills are boring.

For the vacuum I turned it on and popped that sucking nozzle right on the kid. Upon seeing that she wasn't going to get "eaten" she was cool with it from then on. The Aye-aye owl? Printed up a picture of it, hung it up in plain view of her bed and let Bratling take her course. Sure enough, she was dragging that picture around up until she got it just too messy to keep (I so should have saved that picture, darn it.). I'm taking the same route with the crickets. I found the biggest, groadiest, fattest, grubby cricket picture I could find. Printed it, autographed it "Giant Cricket", and tossed it in the front of her backpack for Kindergarten. Now if I write a post about a teacher kicking me in my nonexistent nads, you'll know why.

I'm going to be printing out more and repeating the process until crickets don't bug her anymore, and yes; that pun was intentional. :P

Country Rib Crock and Carpet Cleaning

Bratling had her fun today pouring our powdered carpet freshener all over the place. I mean it, all over. On her Mama's work uniform, the kitchen floor, the stairs, the couch with a potato... No you didn't hear wrong. A potato was put right there on the couch and then had powdered carpet freshener poured on top. I can only fathom the reason to be something like this:



She got her just desserts for the act of recreating something out of "the family circus" all over the house. Sure enough Brat got to vacuum everything up and even then some. Hey, the stairs were needing it anyways! Then I finished up on dinner. It was fantastic by the way and so as promised, here's the recipe.



Country Rib Crock

2 1/2 lbs of country ribs
4 onions about fist sized
1 bag baby carrots
3 medium potatoes
4 cloves of garlic
2 tbs beef bullion (or to taste)
3 cubes of chicken bullion
add pepper to taste
3 tbs of corn starch
1 can condensed cream of mushroom soup
1 packet of onion soup mix
1 tbs garlic powder
2 16 oz packages of gnocchi dumplings

1. Cut up the country ribs (keep the bones if you have any to add for flavoring), 2 of the onions, and the 3 potatoes all into chunks roughly the same size then add them to a four quart crock. Chop the garlic small and add it as well

2. Add the bag of baby carrots, the beef and chicken bullion, onion soup packet, garlic powder, and pepper then mix everything up.

3. Add water until the top of your mixture is just covered and turn the crock on high.

4. Wait 11 to 12 hours.

5. Drain the broth into a separate pot and keep the mixture of meat and vegetables in the crock, remove any bones at this point, turn the flame on medium high then chop 1 onion and add the can of condensed cream of mushroom soup. Allow broth to come to a boil, being sure to whisk the mixture to ensure the soup breaks apart and allow the onion to cook.

6. Add the cornstarch and stir until the broth thickens into a gravy (feel free to add more or less depending on your preference.) Return the gravy to the crock and stir with the meat and vegetables to evenly coat.

7. Start preparing final onion by chopping it and adding it to a frying pan to saute and begin making the gnocchi according to the package's instructions.

8. Once gnocchi are complete, drain, then add them to the sauteed onions and cook them for an additional minute or two until the onions are done to preference, being sure to mix the gnocchi and the onions up. Add garlic powder to taste, mix it one final time and enjoy!


It's a simple to make meal that I started right before bed and completed on time for dinner. It'll probably be best on the second night, assuming it lasts that long. Around here it's almost all gone already. It reminds me sort of like a pot roast dinner, which is very pleasant.

Hair Cuts and Crock Pots

Let me introduce my niece, whom I lovingly call, Bratling. She is five, recently started kindergarten, very clever, tomboyish, and has a penchant for getting into mischief the likes we child-rearing types shudder over.



Because of her being the way she is, things have been placed around this house higher and higher up in a frantic race to keep them out of "the reach zone". You know the zone; that place where kids can get their hands on things you'd rather they don't touch. Bratling has come up with numerous ways to thwart our efforts of keeping some things sacred and forbidden by doing everything from climbing to knocking things done with her longer toys. Tonight she reached one of the forbidden and like any child who has something we don't want her to use... Used it with abandon. My father's scissors to be exact.

Right after bedtime she went into action. Bratling went into the bathroom to do the nightly tinkle and climbed the toilet to get to the shelf. While me and my father were both on the computers and not thinking of the trip as anything more than the usual go in, go, and go back to bed routine as usual we didn't get suspicious until two warning signs alerted us.

It was quiet.

Brat was in the bathroom for too long.

It was my dad who called to Bratling and asked her what she was doing where upon she quickly toddled out and went straight to bed without skipping a beat. That made me suspicious and sure enough when I went in there I spotted on the floor something that most definitely didn't belong there. Locks of Brat's hair. I was in denial at first, leaning over and picking up the pieces of hair and looking at them before bringing them over to my dad. From there I woke up the kid, brushed out her hair (something that produced one final large lock of hair) and looked at the damage.

It was hard to notice, most of her snipping was done in the front and another in the back. I told her we should go to the salon and get her hair cut to the shortest length she made. With a cry she exclaimed, "No! I don't want my hair cut! I like my long hair!"

Gotta love the logic in kids.

I'm squirreling the locks of hair away, just like I have on all her other hair cutting incidents. I don't know why, I just feel like it'd be a darn shame to waste them. Someday I'm going to make jewelry pieces to be given to the females of our family with them. I think it'd make a cute sentimental gift. I'll be sure to post the project up when I do go out and get it done.

Speaking of projects. I'm improvising dinner. Country ribs with vegitables slow cooked in a crock with gnocci dumplings for tonight. You'll get the recipe once I try it out tonight.

Greetings

Hello, I'm the Unmarried Housewife; a gal that lives in a house with her parents, her sister, and a niece whom I raise like my own. Welcome to my blog, a random collection of events and stories of my life. Here you'll get an assortment of everything under the sun that adds some interest to my life. Expect art, recipes, and stories of life at home when you're young and restless.