decorating my walls

This post is not for the faint-of-heart:

I'm about to talk a lot about stuff that might be deemed "boring" by some folks,

so if you don't want to read about shopping for stuff to hang in my living room,

go ahead and skip until you see pictures.

I've been spring cleaning of late. Quite a bit on Friday. That's mostly what I did with my day off, people. But don't weep for me (I know you're not--mostly you're annoyed with me for having every Friday off, but whatever); it needed to be done, so I did it.

I also started making "crusty bread" on Friday evening; you have to let the dough sit for 12-18 hours. It's the easiest bread recipe I've ever tried, and it. is. delicious. (Especially when you dip it in raspberry balsamic vinegar with a touch of lemon olive oil. Just sayin'.)

I got up early on Saturday to finish making the breads (I made two loaves), then I ran around like a chicken with its head cut off getting last-minute things done before my folks showed up. -Except they got here before I was done with my list, so...oopsie. Mom checked out my naked living room so she could get some ideas of how to dress it up, and Dad...did other stuff. (Checked his email? I don't know.)

And then we were offski!

We went  to lunch at the Snake Bite, which was super delish, and then we went shopping at a few places near downtown. To look for awesome stuff to put on my walls.

We went to a Shabby-to-Chic type place and I purchased a few things there. Dad walked in ahead of us, and I said to Mom, "I give dad 60 seconds to be bored of this place." Five minutes later, he told us he was bored, and are we about done? I told him, "You lasted longer than I thought you would," and he said something about, "I waited a few minutes before I mentioned anything to you." Do I know my father, or what? -The store is ridiculously fun if you have two X chromosomes, so Mom and I obviously weren't done that soon; I told Dad he could walk by the river. He came back before we were quite finished.

After that, we went to a bazaar right next door, and Dad promptly got bored there, too. He did wander around a bit longer, finding blocks with cute sayings that he figured my mom might like, but the poor fellow was bored stupid within 10 minutes. So he called his younger brother Shawn, who lives in town. And Shawn totally saved the day; he showed up and "rescued" my dad from Craft Shop Craziness, and Mom and I were able to look around unhindered by the tall bald man looking at us all forlorn-like. (Thanks again for "rescuing" my dad, Uncle Shawn! You're the hero!)

We only hit one more store after the bazaar. Mom found a fun, gigantic painting to hang on my wall; we weren't sure exactly where to put it on my wall at home, but I couldn't walk away from it.

I carried that painting under my armpit as it rested on the top of my foot to the checkout line while Mom looked around a bit more, and I couldn't help but think that there was no way this painting would fit in my folks' car.  I made my purchase and then laughed right out loud as Mom and I tried to carefully make it fit into the Jetta.

It. Didn't. Fit.

Mom said she'd stay with the painting while Dad and I went to get my car (a Nissan Altima, with a much larger back seat). We left her there outside the store as the wind raged. Without a cell phone. (She has one, but left it at home.) We hit every red light, and it took us a long time to get back to her with my car. (Probably 20 minutes, and I only live 2 miles away from where we left her.)

The painting didn't fit in my car, either.

No, really.

The picture was too big by about an inch and a half, if we wanted to shut the door (which is absolutely what we wanted).

That's when my dad volunteered to walk that damn painting to my house. Two miles away. (Let it be noted: the painting is light-weight. But let it also be noted that it's freakishly large, and the wind was blowing.)

I just measured my painting, guys. It's 39" by 59".

Thanks, Dad, for walking my painting home. In the wind. You are the hero.

Mom and I got home before Dad by, like, 25 minutes, probably. So we got to work hanging a shelf up in my room. (We didn't want to start hanging any of the rest of my purchases on the living room walls until we got the painting home. You understand.)

Dad walked in and said he was about to pass out, and that he should probably eat some carbs, stat. (Dad is diabetic, see.) I gave him a little handful of Cadbury eggs and had him sit down for a bit.

WOW, I'm long-winded!

I know it's too late for  the "long story, short" thing, but I'll condense it from here on out: Mom helped me figure out what should go where, and my living room looks so much better now! After we finished hanging everything, I fed my folks some delicious crockpot cheesy taco soup with homemade crusty bread (dipped in raspberry balsamic with a touch of lemon olive oil)...and then my folks headed back to Brigham City.

I know Mom and I nearly killed Dad from boredom. And then from my ginormous painting. But I had a stellar weekend, and I'm glad I was able to spend time with my folks. They're awesome people, and I miss seeing them on a more regular basis.

Here are two rather hastily-taken pictures of some of my new walls:

The black word on the dining room wall says "Delish"
Mom said, "It's totally a Gina word."
Then there's the freakishly large painting, roosting garishly between dining and living.

And here's a shelf I bought at that Shabby-to-Chic store. I LOVE IT.

I am sincerely content with my newly dressed walls. They were outright barren before, and the giant, untouched space between the dining and living rooms was dreary to my soul.

Aaaanyway.

This was one of the loaves of crusty bread I made Friday/Saturday.
Ri-dang-diculously delish.

And this happened Friday evening.

I thought about taking a picture or two of Mom, Dad and me on Saturday, but that was before I realized I wasn't wearing any makeup.

Not one stitch of it.

I'd been out in a number of very public places for roughly 3 hours before I looked in a mirror and realized that my face was as naked as my walls at home. I chastised my parents for letting me out of the house in such a state: Dad hadn't noticed at all (no real surprise there); Mom noticed, but she thought I knew and that I was fine with it, "because it's Saturday." I mean...ugh.

Here's the worst part, though: I was walking around the bazaar, looking at this and that, when I looked up and saw a tall and handsome stranger walking towards me. He looked at me and smiled, and I totally smiled back (because that's how I "flirt" without coming off...wrong). I thought we had a moment, you know? But now I can't help but think that smile must've been a figment of my imagination, you know? Because I feel gremlin-esque sans makeup. I don't wear a ton of foundation anyway, but since I can't wear mascara any more, I never leave the house without at least a bit of shadow and liner. 

 ^ THAT ^ is me being dramatic. I went the entire day without makeup, and it was a really good day so it doesn't even matter.

My weekend was stupendous, I love my house, and my parents are the best. I'm a very lucky girl.

HEY-oh!

I'm in Brigham this weekend, thoroughly enjoying family time & getting a few things done for my place in I.F.

And I must say: it's been a lovely weekend...

I've spent some time squishing on some of my nieces and nephews (all of them, minus Aaron and Amy's boys--I'm planning on hitting you up in a couple of weeks!); squishing on these little ones kind of makes my world go round.

I bought a new TV stand, and Dad helped Goose put it together last night. (Thanks again for that, Goose. And thanks for lending your husband and his talents while your babies got tireder and tireder, Janel. I love you all!)

Today, I got going on a crafty little table runner I found through Pinterest; a table runner that may seem rather childish, but I think it turned out cute. (It requires large Popsicle sticks, watercolors, and painters tape.) A big thank-you to Janie for her help!

Mom sewed some fabric for a valance for my dining room at home. She's amazing and wonderful and generous, folks. In about 7.2 billion ways...

Also: I made some pretzel rolls.

I was planning on making bread this weekend anyway, but I shifted my exact plans when Dad kept looking for pretzel rolls at different stores and found none. He's kind of been on the lookout for a few months, so I found a recipe online and set forth on my new goal.

Side note: I love making bread but I hate making rolls. I don't like making rolls because I loathe separating the dough into so dang many portions. It's not that getting the rolls into precise ad equal portions is important to me: I don't care about that at all. I just really, really hate wasting my time breaking the dough apart so many dang times.

Vance told me, and I quote, "Gina, that's weird. That makes you weird." Especially since I don't care about the rolls being the same size? I can deal with that. I'm full of quirks, is what.

Anyway, Vance came over this morning, and he portioned the rolls and I made them pretty. After letting them rise, we did a water bath (as per the instructions), and then we baked them.

And, by golly, those pretzel rolls were delicious.




Another side note: I found out, after I started making the rolls this morning, that Dad's been looking for them since Mom mentioned something about wanting some, like, months ago. Isn't my dad just the sweetest? I think he really likes my mom.

After dinner tonight, Mom and I made some homemade Oreos, And we prepped our soup for tomorrow's lunch.

I don't mind this whole "domestic" thing. In fact, I kind of enjoy it.

And it's basically a given, but I'm going to say it anyway: I love my family and I'm so grateful for all the love and support they give me. Also, I'm glad that we like each other and enjoy spending time together. I'm a lucky lady, indeed.

Proof that I love my father:

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody! I loooove Thanksgiving. I love it so much that I can sincerely say that it's tied with Christmas as my favorite holiday. Spending a day surrounded by family, feasting on scrumptious food? PERFECTION!

Mom and I started cooking Tuesday making, I think, pumpkin rolls and maybe something else. Did a bit more last night with apple pie, broccoli/cauliflower casserole, and, I think, some other stuff. Aaaand today, of course, we were in the kitchen a good portion of the morning.

I'm not complaining! I enjoy cooking! I was in company and we had some Christmas tunes on in the background. So lovely...

homemade apple pie

homemade pumpkin roll

my feast

Yuuuummm!

Aaron, Amy & boys were here for the day, which was stupendous...

Jackson really liked eating the mallows off this little turkey guy

Sethington eating his apple.

Emmett, looking dapper

Vance, Abby & family came for a bit, too, when they weren't with Abby's family...

gosh, Janie sure is a pretty little thing

Julie's been doing this little "O" thing with her lips lately...

And, of course, I sure missed these two kiddos (as Ryan and Janel were hosting to her family today):

here we see Marshall playing with his Angry Birds toys he got for his birthday a few weeks ago
(oh my goodness, how can he be six already?!)

Ah, my sweet little Kayleebug...

It's been such a great day! (Pictures from the park are forthcoming, wait for it ;)

Anyway, I've spent a lot of time in the kitchen, but guess what?

I'll tell you.

Dad's been craving biscuits and gravy for several days now, and since he has to get up at the crack of dawn to work Black Friday, Momma and I made him some.



Love you, Pops! I hope these biscuits and gravy, made with love, sustain you through your early, long workday tomorrow!!

Hucka-Pickin'

Last Friday, my Papa came up to Idaho to visit...and to pick huckleberries.

Huckleberries. Are. Amazing.

And they are also super tiny, huckleberries are. You can spend hours picking. And picking, and picking, and picking. And you feel quite certain that you ought to have picked, like, 8 gallons, because you've picked your guts out! But in reality, you've picked less. Much, much less. (One huckleberry is roughly 1/4 the size of a blueberry. A small blueberry. UGH!) But it's okay, because huckleberries. are. amazing. (Have I mentioned this before?)

A fellow I work with told me about a place in the wilderness where huckleberries grow thick. It took Dad and I a full hour to find the place, plus to hike a bit...and it was totally worth it! The berries were ridiculous, people! We were surrounded by huckleberries! It was heaven! We picked for 2.5 hours and ended up with 8.5 cups. (Total. But that's a lot! We were very pleased!)

We ended up having lunch in Idaho Falls, and when we got back to the car, my car smelled like huckleberries. And I was in heaven all over again.

Well hello, huckleberries!

Happy Dad!

After 5 hours (combined time) of pick-pick-picking...

STAINED! AND TOTALLY WORTH IT!

Half of our lovely huckleberries: cleaned and drying!

ANYWAY...it was a jolly good time, and now I'm going to bake a few things (very likely huckleberry buckle, and huckleberry muffins) and then horde the last two cups over the course of the next several months. (Dad and I split them halfsies.)

Now I'm off to bed; it's 10:42pm, and I have to get up at 4:20am for a stupendous hike...

so far...

Just finishing up day 2 of my big fat break from reality. So far, so good. Except...before I left town yesterday, I ran some errands. After one errand in particular, I was getting back into my car and WHAP! totally smacked my noggin on my car. Who does that?! And how old am I? I don't think I've hit my head on the car since I was just a wee lass.

Anyways, I hit it hard enough that I saw stars, and I was slightly stunned that I didn't knock myself out. WOWCH. Later on, I decided to diagnose myself mildly concussed.

Also, I have an invisible bruise on my forehead today.

I got to Brigham yesterday afternoon and I headed straight for Vance's place, because everyone else was at work. And also because baby Jane lives there (with Vance, I mean). I got there just in time to change a nasty diaper (much to Vance's satisfaction). And then I got to hold and cuddle Janie to my heart's content. Happy. Day.

Then...I headed to Layton with my folks to visit with Aaron, Amy & boys. Shoot, I love that family. Jackson was happy as a clam rocking out in the rocking chair, and Seth spent the first 20+ minutes of our visit pretending he was a puppy; he even scratched his ears and rolled over for us. Seth is the cutest puppy ever. When we were all getting ready to head out for dinner, Seth stood up and informed us "I'm not a dog," and then he looked at me, cocked his head to one side, and said, "Niiiiiiiiiiice jacket!" I just love that kid to bits.

I didn't get to see Marshall yesterday, as was my plan. But I saw him this morning for a few minutes before I headed out of town, and Marshall gave me a tight hug and a big (and rather wet) kiss. Oh, he's cute!

Concerning football...
Dad took me to the BYU/AFA game today. It was cold, but fun. According to those who were seated in my vicinity, it surely seems like the referees made some pretty awful calls. Honestly? Twice BYU made a touchdown, and the refs yoinked it away from us. What the what?

Aaron texted me afterwards, and it went something like this:

A-dub: How was the game?
Me: Good. We won so that's good. Dad thinks your game next week will be a good one. The refs made some truly horrible calls but we still won comfortably.
A-dub: Dad has never seen a fairly called game.
Me: Is that just him or do they really call bad games every time?
A-dub: It's him.
Me: In his defense there were 2 calls that I fully understood to be ridiculous. He's still fun to go with. And nice to share his tickets too.
A-dub: Yeah, but you don't even know what a flea flicker is.
Me: When the quarter back and the running back toss it back and forth and then the quarter back throws it down the field, you mean?
A-dub: Did dad tell you that or do you remember from before?
Me: I have the memory of an elephant.
A-dub: An elephant with alzheimer's that has suffered a severe blow to the head, repeatedly?

Me: Something like that. I actually thought you had made up the term flea flicker and had to ask dad if you were yanking my chain:)
A-dub: You had the exact same reaction a couple years ago when me and Vance quizzed you on football!
Me: See? The memory of an elephant...
A-dub: Yeah. I was thinking your answer was way too precise anyway.
Me: Dad had to explain it twice...

He's right, you know. Aaron, I mean. I'm a very sympathetic sports fan. I don't understand enough about most sports--especially football--to get annoyed with certain calls or fouls. Not on my own, at least. But when everyone starts yelling or booing, I just hop right on board and find myself supremely upset if it "feels right." And it always feels right if everyone else is booing. Oh, but if the call is against the team I'm rooting for, I truly mean it when I furrow my brow and shake my fist at those stupid men in the stripey uniforms.

Anyways, I discovered today at the game that my camera is broken. I made this discovery when I pulled it out to capture my memories pictorially. Boy was I one sad little Ginabean! I took a couple of pictures with my phone, since that's all I had. Ready?

This picture gives you an idea of the elements we were up against:
grayish whispy clouds hovering low-ish and hazy and whatnot...
I'm guessing that the weather hovered somewhere near 40 degrees Farenheit.

Me and my Da, bundled up.
(Seriously? We were both wearing thermals,
plus-let me count-5 layers on top for me, plus the quilt.)
Oh yeah, and see that guy in the gray jacket sporting a beard?
He kept looking at me. I think he liked me. Or, at least, my colorful tuke...

papa bear...

I fully recognize what a lucky gal I am to have such incredible parents. Both of them are AMAZING! Since today is Father's Day, here's a little tribute to my papa...

Things my father taught me:

*Integrity: If Dad says he'll do something, he'll do it, and he'll do it well. Always.
*Constancy: Dad's a rock. I know he's always there for me no matter what.
*Love of words: This man reads way more than any other individual I know. He passed his love of books onto me.
*Support: Financial, mental, emotional...Dad has always supported me and the family in every way.
*Importance of family: Family has always come first to Dad (and Mom too). It's such a great feeling to know that nothing will ever upset that. Family is forever!
*Sports: I'm not terrific at sports, but Dad's the one who taught me to ride a bike and swing a bat. Good times!
*Love: Dad once said in a letter/written testimony to his kids that it is his desire for each of his children to secretly feel as if he/she is Dad's favorite child. I'm not sure how my brothers feel, but I know I secretly feel like I'm his fave...
*How a girl deserves to be treated: Mom and Dad are best friends and can (and do) talk about anything. Dad loves Mom best and would do anything for her. He's a worthy priesthood-holder and he respects his wife and his children. (The bar for my future husband is set pretty high...)

Happy Father's Day, Dad! I love you!

This one's for you, Pops...

I somehow forgot to do a little tribute to my Poppa Bear on Father's Day. That was unintentional, of course. It doesn't mean I don't love the man.

Because I do love him. A lot!

Today is my Old Man's birthday. I won't tell you how old he is, but know this: he's gettin' up there. He's well on his way to senior citizenship! (So are we all, yeah?)

But I digress...

My Dad is an amazing and wonderful man. He's always been really involved with us kids from the start. He--and Momma, of course--have taught us right from wrong. Dad taught me how to throw a ball. He has encouraged my love of words and reading. Dad has always been there for me, even when I was an annoying teenager who blew her "tweeny" little problems out of proportion. He's always loved me, and I've always known it. I'm his princess. And whenever I'm down and need some extra help...I know I can always turn to Dad for a Priesthood blessing. Even if he's feeling all stressed and the likes himself...if I ask, he's there to help. That's meant a lot to me throughout the years. He's my hero. I'm looking for a fella to marry who has so many of the qualities my Dad has; I'm used to amazing, and I don't want to settle for less.

I hope this doesn't make me sound snooty or like my expectations are too high. I'm realistic, really I am. I'm just sayin'...my Dad is awesome, and there are certain things I have come to expect from men in general. Because of my Dad. (And brothers too.)

Okay, so I'm not sure that this post is coming out so great as I had intended...sigh.

Let's end it here: I LOVE YOU, POPS! Thanks for everything!

Dad, doin' what he does best.
(Doting on his grandkids!)