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Sep 12, 2010

Scrapbooking USA

There are few things in my life that I get excited about. (Heath issues frankly. Excitement causes stress, which cause...well, lets just say repercussions and use our imagination). Scrapbooking USA is one of them. Twice a year, I gear up to learn new techniques and find new and better page ideas. This Friday was opening day.

Thursday night, I gathered all my necessary paraphernalia. I put the paper in the paper section, the different colors in alphabetical order and zipped it close. This is a simple according type file that has a flap. Works wonders. Next I pulled out the huge case on rollers with a nice long handle. (Your typical suitcase on wheels). My scissors of every shape and size imaginable are in the special 'scissor' slots on one side and the special pens and stencils are housed in fancy pockets on the other side. In the center is my scrap-book. I prefer to keep my paper and cutters separate, because as I understand it, things come alive and play at night. (I've seen all three Toy Stories, and can you imagine what scissors could do to an innocent piece of card stock? The horrors.) Always bend on the side of caution. I cringe at the thought of opening my case to a confetti massacre. separation is imperative.

First thing Friday morning, I grab my purse, the roller case with the according file on top and get into my van. I feel great!

I pick up my good friend, and we arrived well before the line of patrons that wraps around the building, foaming at the mouth to get inside, and claimed the perfect table. (If you are going to be scrapbooking pages for 14 hours, you must have comfort).

Everything goes as planned, until... Our cases are unpacked, we have our glue sticks and pages in front of us and a friend stops by..."Hey, we're on our way over to the stampin' table to learn a new technique, want to come?" Who am I to say no. This is the purpose of being there.

"Sure." I leave Barb at the table (holding down the perfect fort, sort of speak) and I take four steps when it hits me. The irritating stab to the Kidneys. The urge to use the bathroom, right now. I excuse my self and run, (no time to walk) and hightail it to the restrooms. And find myself standing in a line of with several other anxious women. While I, like so many before me, are doing the ever popular

potty dance, realize that this is going to be a reoccurring problem
for the next 13 hours. I should have consumed a few tons of cranberry
Juice when I was doing all that wonderful packing and planning.
So...needless to say, I believe, all-in-all, I got two pages done.
UTI or not...I stayed until Mid-night. Hey! Scrapbooking USA
only comes around twice a year! Next time, I'm supplying the beverages.
Until next week, look forward to the fun things in life :-)

Sep 5, 2010

"But, I'm the Baby!

There are days in a child’s life that no matter what, it’s wrong.
The youngest of my grandchildren is three. He’s a darling little red-head who has had to tolerate three other, older siblings. So, the little dude learns. Fast. He learns to:
Take what he wants, when he wants. Even to the devastation of others.
“He took it from me.” (and who do we believe? The baby)
Push and fight your way; over them, through them. Whatever. If the other cries, ah, the ‘that’s just to darn bad attitude rears its ugly head.
“He started it. He hit me first.” (and who’s side do we defend? The baby)
Blames others. The youngest seems to believe that he or she never does anything wrong.
“I didn’t take it. Somebody else did; I seen him.” (and who do we believe? The baby)
I watched the cutest little guy in the world become the most mischievous little brat ever to walk the earth.
One day seemed to be particularly horrific for him. From the time he lifted his ornery head off the pillow at 5:30 a.m. until tragedy struck around two. I couldn’t quit yelling at him.
His mother works nights and his father is a soccer coach so I was helping out by tending. Or do I mean refereeing? The morning was the same. I arrive at 7:20, the same time my daughter gets home from work. We get the older children ready for school and sit them down for breakfast. “The Grouch” doesn’t want cereal, he wants eggs and toast. We fix eggs and toast. After one bite of toast and he declares that he’s full. Off he goes, out to play.
Let’s face it; grandmothers can be a tad easier on their grandchildren. Especially when he resembles his mother at that age and you see so much of her in him that…well…I might look the other way at some items. I encouraged him to go out and play. No more that five minutes goes by that the four year old is crying and saying that ‘The Grouch’ took his truck.
I tell the four year old, “Let The Grouch have it, and he’ll get tired of it soon.” (Yeah, like right after he ‘wins’ he throws it on the ground.) A little while later, The Grouch leans over and smacks his brother. For absolutely no reason that I could see. After that, he comes in begging for food. I tell him no, he didn’t eat his breakfast, he can’t have a treat. According to him, breakfast was horrible. He wanted cereal. I give him cereal; he takes one bite and goes outside. He comes back in thirty minutes later, the four year old follows, crying that ‘The Grouch’ did…this and that…and the day goes on.
Around two, I am exhausted. His mother is sleeping, the four year old is watching television and ‘The Grouch’ has pulled my last string. I send him to his room, he cries all the way down the hall, down the stairs, and into his mother’s room. He tells her that grandma is mean and she made him go to his room. She’s asks why and he says, “I don’t know, but grandma’s been yelling at me all day long.”
His mother looks at me and I give her my best, if you don’t do something with this child, I will and it will be permanent. She tells him to go to his room like grandma said. His puts his chubby little fits on his hips, and releases the crocodile tears (big and fat, the break you heart tears, which they usually do) and between hiccups declares… “But, I’m the Baby! I didn’t do nothing.”

Sep 1, 2010

Examiner.com: Unhealthy homes contain airborne toxins by Doree Anderson

Airborne mycotoxins may be thriving in your home. Tiny spores pass through our nasal filters causing numerous medical symptoms. The root of this evil is not indestructible, Mold can be avoided or removed.
Mold arrives innocently enough. The moist sweat shirt from the fall drizzle is tossed into a plastic container. It sits, damp and forgotten for a few months in the corner of the laundry room. With the assistance of a few environmental ingredients; temperature, nitrogen, oxygen, and moisture, we have the perfect recipe for mold.
Feed it with doses of oil and dirt. Before long, this fungi will adhere to wood, sheet rock, insulation, fabric, Styrofoam, fiberboard or drywall, and proliferate causing an unclean environment. Mold has become a prime factor in several health issues. Family complaints include dizziness, flu-like symptoms, breathing difficulties, and memory and hearing loss. In some incidences, allergy suffers are unaware that they are breathing in mold spores. It may begin with a mild cough but graduate into chronic bronchitis.
Black mold or Strachybotrys chartarum, is the most dangerous form. Extreme illnesses from these spores include mental deficiencies, chronic fatigue, fibromyalgia and many more. Black mold is greenish-black and slimy in appearance. Not only is it airborne but it can attached itself to people and animals.
Preventative steps need to be taken to control the spread of mold. Anywhere there has been a leak or sustained water damage, make sure that the area is thoroughly dried. Try to keep carpet off of basement floors. Flooding without professional cleanups is not recommended. Mishaps happen all the time and without proper ventilation, mold will spread inside flooring and wall cavities. Check for moisture in closets, bathroom cabinets, the refrigerator drip pan, house plants and garbage pails.
Always use the exhaust fans in bathrooms and kitchens. Keep your home well vacuumed and clean. Soap and detergents will remove the mold stain but doesn’t kill the mold. A bleach based product will clean and remove the toxins.
For more information contact Utah Disaster and Clean-up at www.Utahflood.net/mold/removal.
Educate your self and family through such places as www.firstresponseutah.com; www.Tilex.com/mold or Utah Department of Health www.health.utah.gov/ Common Health Building, 288 North 1460 West, Salt Lake City, Utah.
Remember: A healthy home shelters a healthy family.