Part One: How to become a Farm Chicks groupie

First of all, you need to find the right, shall we say, parters in crime.

 Not just anyone will do. 

They need to be:

Lovers of all things old and crusty

and

possess bladders of steel.

It takes a special sort of person who will stop at nearly every little podunk town across three states to photograph obscure things like...

blue water towers,

old advertising on the sides of random buildings,

crusty motel signage,

and plastic adirondack chairs stacked against old houses.

Fortunately I have friends who are just as crazy as me.

Meet June and Lisa.

Or rather, meet their behinds.

We found some great little pastry shops and boutiques in Spokane.

Like this one called Rockwood Bakery.

Just look at that yummy red paint and espresso stained hardwood trim.

YUMMY.

I could just lick it right off the wall.

Okay, maybe not. 

That would be gross.

We shopped for Miss Me jeans at a sweet little store called Lolo Boutique.

Which also had great stuff for the home like this little number and

a darling bare bulb chandelier that I really think I need. 

Oh yeah, and this necklace.

Need, I say.

A sweet dress from Serenity.

June showing Lisa how wide I looked after trying on that last pair of Miss Me's.

Did I mention that June was just a little bit crazy?

And finally...

...what we drove 11 hours,

 drank 8 gallons of diet coke,

(okay, Miss June drank 8 gallons of diet coke)

  and stopped at every potty between Carey and Spokane for.

And that, my friends, was just the beginning of our beautiful Farm Chicks adventure.

Stay tuned for the next installment of "How to become a Farm Chicks groupie" coming your way soon!

What's the deal with burlap's funky smell?

If anyone can answer that one, I'd appreciate it.

Somehow it always seems to have a...well...odor...about it.

 A kind of petroleum, dieselish smell if you will.

In spite of this, I am quite taken with its textural quality. I think of ruddy cheeked French peasants when I see it and it makes me want to make

 garbage can liners

out of it.

Wait a minute, garbage can liners?

Yes,

garbage can liners.

Beautiful, embellished, flowered garbage can liners. 

Don't try to understand it. 

Just go with it.

Oh yeah, and towel holders.

I can't help myself.

It's a sickness.

"List-maker, list-maker, make me a list..."

 Are you a list maker?

 I am.

 I live by my list. If I don't have half a dozen lists going at one time, I'm lost.

Here,

 I will list my lists for you. 

1. List of to-do's (lots of phone calls, cleaning, errands to run.) 

Yawn.

2. Grocery list (short this week because we are trying to eat our way through the food in the fridge before we leave to go back to Idaho.)

3. List of projects to complete (includes putting together a chandelier that needs to be re-wired to plug into the wall, re-covering my ironing board with fabric that doesn't look like it has been barfed on, making another burlap garbage can liner (sounds weird, but I swear, it really is cute), repaint canvas on living room wall, make a key ring hook to replace the four nails pounded into the sheet rock currently serving as our key ring hook (we're high class around here, yessirree.)

4. List of photos I want to take.

5. List of places I want to go.

6. List of books I want to read in the near future (there are currently 81 books on this list and counting...I add to this list daily with no end in sight...Hello, my name is Michelle and I am a bookaholic...)

7. List of character flaws I want to eradicate (there's something along the line of obsessive list-making on there.)

8.  List of things to take to Idaho.

9. List of things to bring back from Idaho.

and so on...

But I will share a little secret with you.

Sometimes...

when I'm really feeling especially frisky...

I ditch my list.

I do.

I go listless.

You should try it too.

It's positively...

EXHILARATING!

As for those of you who aren't list-makers,

well...

you don't know what you're missing out on.

The feeling of ditching your list, that is.

Art...books...a little slice of heaven.

I was in one of my favorite haunts the other day, and I came across this sweet little book and I just wanted to share. 

I thought it would make a great Mother's Day gift. 

hint...hint...

This book begs a very important question...

Which I will answer now.

Mothers should make time to create art because...

...because that's what keeps us out of the looney bin!

That's why.

Besides the fact that this book is visually stunning, what I love most about it is that it approaches creativity in a way that is not at odds with the idea of being a mother (and a wife) first. It gives practical advice on how to fit in stolen moments of time to explore and create. I realize that not all women have the desire to paint or sew or craft, but I do believe that we are all endowed with the desire to create in some form or another.

 After all, isn't that what mothers really are?

 Creators.  

It features several artist-mothers who share their secrets for integrating art into their normal, messy, laundry-laden lives. They too, have little unfinished masterpieces running around, demanding  attention.

Thing is...

They mother. 

They create. 

But they don't feel guilty about it.

They don't have to. 

They have priorities.

Wife.

Mother.

Artist.

Imagine that.

Wisdom...

"I would rather have a small house and a big life,

 than a big house and a small life... 

wouldn't you, Mom?"

Ummmm.

"Would you say that again, Stockton?"

He sighs, and says a little louder, slower, for my benefit,

 "I would rather have a small house and a big life,

 than a big house and a small life...wouldn't you?"

He waits expectantly for my answer.

"Mom?"...still waiting...

"Yes, Stockton," I say with an awed voice, "I would."

We continue driving.

 Satisfied, Stockton plays with an action figure in the back seat.

 I drive on, contemplating our exchange.

How is it that a seven year old can have more wisdom than a full grown, been-through-lots-of-life-experiences adult? 

Sometimes I wonder, 

who is raising who?

I've got a thing for clipboards.

My love affair with them began a couple of years ago when I discovered how inexpensive and useful these little guys could be.  I started out making message boards decoupaged with paper and cork,  moved on to wanna-be picture frames and now:

  Family home evening/chore chart boards. 

Needless to say, my family is thrilled.

They can run, but they can't hide...

from

THE CHORE CHART.

Despite what they may think, it really was made with

 100% 

Pure

Unadulterated 

Love.

So, there.

I have good news and bad news...

The good news is that Senecca was admitted to BYU Hawaii.

The bad news is that Senecca was admitted to BYU Hawaii.

When she opened her acceptance letter and shrieked with joy at the good news, I did a little happy dance in the middle of the kitchen floor. 

Then I did what any self respecting mother would do.

I locked myself in my bedroom and cried my eyes out for a couple of days.

What will I do without my funny girl?

Who will I laugh at with?

Who will I binge on ice cream with?

Who will sit in my studio and drink gallons of hot cocoa with me?

And then crash on the couch while I remain on a sugar high.

Listening to Abba.

Still jabbering in their ear.

At 2 a.m.

Who tolerates stuff like that?

My sweet Senecca.

That's who.

Honestly, I don't know if I can stand it.