Chalking Up Some Easter Eggs...

Check out these beautiful Easter Eggs handmade by the kids - with the help of Grandma Kathy. In the spirit of Pioneer Woman Cooks, I'll lay out all the steps for you so you can try it for yourself next year.

Here are the ingredients - a dozen eggs, hardboiled of course. Chalkboard paint, a small paintbrush, and regular old sidewalk chalk.






First, take one egg and apply a coat of black chalkboard paint over its entire surface. This gets a little tricky, especially for those small hands, so we did use some plastic measuring cups (like you get from TANG) and placed the egg on it once one half of it was painted.




When each egg is painted, place it back into the egg carton to dry. Wait an hour or two before putting on the second coat of chalkboard paint. During this time you may need to turn the eggs a bit as we found they did stick to the styrofoam carton. This may not be a problem if you use a paper carton.

After the second coat, let the eggs rest overnight and then get out the sidewalk chalk and get creating. Once this step is done, take the eggs outside and holding the egg an arm's length away, spray it with hairspray to let the chalk set. If the chalk disappears, don't get scared. As the hairspray dries, the color will come back. Finally, arrange the eggs in a basket with colored grass and enjoy them. BUT - I wouldn't recommend eating them.

February Events

Weekend Getaway with Mitch, Jackie, Zach and Maggie There was a whole lot of outside time, inside time and watching hockey time. Oh, and there was the "skinning the squirrel time" where Sophie held the book, Dangerous Book for Boys open to page 239 and read the directions for skinning a squirrel to Zach as he gave it a go. Meanwhile I was inside the house trying to keep my breakfast down.

Fat Tuesday Party
Our friends Michelle and Paul lived in New Orleans for quite a few years and fell in love with the city - so much so the walls of their house are painted in Mardi Gras colors... in a very rich and tasteful way. They hosted a party where the kids decorated masks, made floats and had a parade for all the adults. Our "prizes" from the party decorated the dining room table for the next few weeks.

Valentine's Day Fondue
After months of searching for a vintage fondue pot I gave up and bought a new one from Target. I would much prefer the orange or yellow or brown kind to the polished line of the stainless steel one but Valentine's Day was approaching and I wanted to start a new tradition here on Belmont Road. So I splurged and we had a wonderful fondue on Valentine's Day - complete with homemade angel food cake, big marshmallows, and bananas and strawberries. Yummy!


BRRRRRR! February here was unseasonably cold - even for us North Dakotans - and we spent A LOT of time hanging out by the fire. One night Dave called me into the family room so I could see that the girls had found the perfect mix - reading by a warm fire. After that there were often four of us reclining on the floor with books in hand - Dave still preferred the chair over the floor.

As of Sunday I think we're done with indoor fires until fall - during one of Dave's roaring fires the glass of one of the doors blew out. Luckily nobody was in front of the fire at the time and the glass blew into the fire. Then yesterday morning, while everybody was in the kitchen having breakfast, there was again the sound of shattering glass and Dave found a mess of glass all over the front of the fireplace. I called a local business, they sent a repairman over and the glass is getting fixed. But he told us one very important piece of advice I'll pass on - do not use the fire starter bricks in indoor fireplaces. Apparently they're made of wood shavings that are glued together - but the glue, when it melts, sticks all over the place and causes uneven heating that is dangerous. He suggested buying a packet of shims and using those for firestarters instead.

817 Here they are - the two guys that made it all happen. I tried to help as much as I could but I'm no match for these two. The house looks fabulous and Charlie and John deserve oh so very much of the credit. As for Charlie calling me an "old shoe" I'm still not sure how I feel about that - but he insists it was meant as a compliment. :)

Two Months of Tuesdays
Caprice, Anna and I finally finished Theresa's quilt yesterday and got it delivered. The ironic part is we delivered it to her on a day where it hit 40 degrees above zero and we were walking around without coats on. But I'm sure she'll still cuddle up in it and know how much she's loved and cared for.

Updated Pics from 817 (The BIG Project)

As requested by Lori, Jeff and others, here are some pics of 817. (Just for you Jeff - our house is the brick one on the left, while 817 is the white house on the right.) Compare these photos of the dining room, living room, and kitchen to the ones here and I'm thinking you'll notice a change. I still have a second coat of paint to do on the entire upstairs, then sand that floor and paint it. I should probably also do a third coat in the main floor hallway because it turns out my color-blind husband is correct when he emphatically states, "I'm not a painter!". Then, I should paint the pantry, the cupboard under the stairs, the basement stairwell and the entryway. I guess I should also paint the patching that was done after the switchplates were put up. But all in due time, all in due time.

This week's "Guess What Was Cooking" game...

Remember the last contest? The one where you had to guess the shape of the pie dough? This game is a little different - but still has to do with cooking and odd shapes. So, what's your vote on this lovely number that came out of the oven - is it turkey or homemade bread?

If you guessed homemade bread, you're a winner...but then again you were probably in the kitchen and could smell the aroma of fresh bread. I think I did a few things wrong in my baking - I used whole wheat flour without changing any of the ingredients, I let it rise too long, and I didn't form it into a loaf shape very well... or very tight. But, it gave the kids and me a big laugh when I took it out of the oven. And, it still tasted mighty nice.

One Week in February - the To Do/To Done List

No quiet lunch date...

An hour and twenty minutes into our lunch date (yes, how we do enjoy our long lunches) Margaret, Michelle and I were startled by a loud crack followed by shattering glass of the bakery window. We looked to our side and the window to the bakery was shattered, there was a man on the ground on the sidewalk and two cars were parked side-by-side on the street. From the next few minutes I remember some of what happened, while other events I can't. I remember being at the front door of the bakery, seeing the bicyclist, with a "What the h---" look on his face, starting to get up. I thought, "He'll be OK," and then kept looking around. Then I remember the sound of the car engine still revving, and saw the driver with his head back - passed out. I clearly remember thinking, "I can't go in front of the car because it's still going." So I ran behind it and opened his door - surprised it was unlocked. Yet his car was parallel to a small SUV parked in the street and I couldn't open the door all the way, let alone squeeze in to turn off the car. By this time there were others on the passenger side of the car. With my right hand I tried to feel a pulse on the driver's neck and with my left I pushed every button I could trying to get the other door unlocked so the others could get in to help the man. I remember being surprised at how smooth and nice and warm the man's neck felt. By this time, an older man was behind me and yelled for people to call 911. It felt like ten minutes had already gone by and I couldn't feel the man's pulse and all I was doing with my left hand was moving the car windows up and down. It was so quiet. The man behind me said, "Let me try," so I moved out of the way and let him in. I went to the passenger side and tried to break the window open. A man jumped on the hood of the car and tried to kick in that window and I remember thinking, "The driver's mouth is open, you don't want glass to get in his mouth." Another man used some kind of tool on the passenger window and said, "Watch out." I turned around so I wouldn't get hit by glass but nothing happened. I heard someone say, "Two pushes, one breath... two pushes one breath," under his breath and then yell, "I know CPR; I can do CPR." When I turned back around I went to the second car, the one that was parked in the street parallel to the incapacitated one and got in. The older man was still trying to help the driver and was right in between the two cars and I thought, "I should tell him so he isn't surprised when the car moves, but is it worth the time it'll take? Yes, I don't want to run him over," so I got back out and told him I was going to move the car. He said, "Good idea." I got back in. It was a stick shift. Crap. "I can do this, it should be old hat," I thought. But then I saw there weren't any keys in the car. I got back out and the owner of the car was right there and said, "Should I move it?" I replied, "Yeah, that'd be great." Then a woman driving by yelled, "My husband is a cardiologist - he's having lunch in there." So I headed to the bakery to get him, wondering why he wasn't already out there. Then I heard her say, "Oh, he's in the car already." So I went back into the bakery - to Michelle and Margaret and got wrapped up in a hug. The bicyclist was sitting at a table and was worried about his bike - it was indeed pretty mangled - but he looked OK. We went back to our table and stood there. All I could think was that I couldn't find a pulse on the man's neck and that in this whole time (which Michelle said was probably only two minutes) the man hadn't moved at all. The ambulance got there, the police were there and firemen were there. The bakery staff was cleaning up the glass that had fallen all over the two-top right below the window. We watched the ambulance crew undo the man's shirt and do something - he sort of jerked. Then they carried him off to the ambulance, one person had his legs and another his armpits. I started crying again, assuming he was dead. But nobody really seemed to know. We bussed our table, put our coats on and walked the block to the car - our voices shaking talking about what just happened.

There - that's my perspective on the events. You can read about the incident here (look for Pole Crashes Through Bakery)and get a better picture of the whole scene.

I can't stop thinking about it - about how everything I tried to do failed and how that short time seemed like ten, even twenty minutes. Did I make things worse by trying to help? Yet it wasn't a conscious decision to go out there. Why couldn't I find the damn door lock? Throughout the whole thing, I think the only words I spoke were, "I'll move the car," and "That'd be great." My mind was totally clear - almost white - yet my thoughts were racing. Instinct certainly took over - yet I had moments of clear thoughts. I noticed the handicapped sticker tucked to the driver's right side, the cane that sat on the passenger floor at a diagonal so the driver could easily grab it. The radio wasn't on, the car was warm and the driver was warm. But no pulse - at least not that I could feel. When Margaret dropped me off at home I went to Dave and made him sit while I tried to find his pulse - and was somewhat reassured when I couldn't find his pulse either. Then, I watched the 5:00 news, then the 6:00 news and finally the 10:00 news - the 81-year-old driver was in critical condition, but he was alive. And I felt helpless - no thanks to me was he alive. I tried to help - oh how I tried - but nothing I did seemed to work. People have said, "Maybe you spurred others to action." or "You tried..." but I still get shaky when I think about it and my heart starts pounding. If something like this happens again and instinct takes over I hope I remember something else - take a deep breath and slow down... and I'll have a better chance of finding the damn door lock.

I'll be back - just not tonight...

We’ve had a rough go of it lately – chills, fevers and vomiting. Tummy aches and sore muscles. Then sore throats and hoarse voices. Besides that we’ve been plugging away next door.

Since I last blogged the project has turned into a home away from home. It has desks and chairs and rugs and bathtowels. It has painted walls, freshly sanded and varnished floors and new mopboard in every room. It has a brand-new bathroom on the second floor. It has pictures waiting to be hung. It has closets still needing painting and it still has a half-finished second floor – one more coat of paint to go on the hallway and bedrooms and then it’s time to sand that floor and give it a fresh coat of paint.

I’ve got hands that have to work to unclench themselves from a paint roller. I’ve got knees that are still black and blue because I thought I could “tough it out” and didn’t need to wear kneepads to be on my hands and knees hand sanding 1,300 square feet of hardwood floor.

And I’ve got a husband who, at 5 am or some other ungodly hour of the morning, will walk out our back door, stroll across the yard and through the side gate and find himself at work. Then, at about 7:15 he’ll join us at home for breakfast and we’ll walk the kids to school.

And the best thing is – he’s been so gracious about all we’ve (as in Charlie, John and I) done at the house and that’s helped make every single ache and pain of the past two months worthwhile.