Pink Saturday

For my second Pink Saturday, I remembered these tiny plates I have hanging on the side of a kitchen cabinet. (You know, I really have lots of purple and red in my house – is there a purple or red day challenge going on?)

My mom gave me these delicate plates and her mom had given them to her.

I don’t know how many Grandma started with, but by the time I got them there were 6. Now they’re down to 5. Following is a close-up of each:

It’s interesting to me how the gold border has faded or rubbed off differently on each one. I think this one has the most border remaining:

This one got chipped (on lower right) during my last move. It’s my favorite:

For links to more pretty pink things, visit How Sweet the Sound.


Ho Hum

Well nobody’s bought our house yet. We haven’t even had anyone come for a walk-through! We’re trying to sell it ourselves using Forsalebyowner.com and we are on the Kansas City MLS. Out front is a big yard sign with weatherproof brochure dispenser always full of flyers because that is R’s big pet peeve when we drive around looking at houses. “They’re out of flyers! They’re out of flyers!”

Every day I make sure that thing’s full.

I also bought 5 of these from Office Max (and Andrea painstakingly wrote our address front and back on each one) and stuck them at the intersections leading into our subdivision but the city took them away because of some ordinance, of which the sheriff came by to inform me…

Then he took a flyer. And Andrea’s boyfriend’s dad took a flyer. And probably all of our neighbors have, out of curiosity, because we’ve gone through lots of flyers.

But by gosh, we have yet to run out!

(Speaking of Rodney, here he is – had he been 42 – in 1980. Ha Ha! I just can’t get over this. And me! Aww, Class Couple):

I resort to things like this to subdue my house-anxiety. It helps.

Festival of Butterflies

Saturday Rodney took me to see butterflies. Actually the festival was over, but they still had the conservatory open through this weekend. I have no idea what the “festival activities” that we missed out on consisted of, I just wanted to walk amongst the “flying flowers!”

Look at this big butterfly net outside the door:

I got a butterfly net for my 8th birthday – I’ll never forget. One day I came inside and my mom was in tears laughing at me. “Wha…?” She’d been at the window watching me chase down a butterfly with that net – swiping it this way and that, and never able to catch the darn thing. I guess I looked funny? Thanks for the encouragement, mom.

As soon as we walked in, butterflies were darting all around us. They swooped like bats and when you watched them fly off, it looked as if they were marionettes on strings that someone was jerkily controlling from above. They’re not graceful, that’s for sure.

I mean, it’s not like I’ve never seen a butterfly before, but seeing so many at once (and all flying right up and around you and taunting you) was a cool new perspective.

They gave us each these fans to combat the heat (so humid!) and also to identify the different butterflies. I kept laughing at Rodney carrying his around like he was on the safety patrol.

Pretty blue butterfly:

R kept saying, “That’s a [whatever type of butterfly],” and getting irritated with me because I was calling them all birds.

This one creeped me out:

They ARE just like bats!

All the butterflies were regular size except for certain blue ones. They were much bigger than the others and did the most swooping and darting. I really wanted to take pictures of them but they were so fast! Or they would fly right up to me and around me playing ring around the rosie, making it impossible. I’d swing around and twist and shout and NEVER get them in the shot!

I tried chasing, I tried standing in one spot and letting them come to me, I tried flailing all over the conservatory. Basically I was 8 years old with the worthless butterfly net all over again.

I ended up with one shot of the ever elusive big blue butterfly:

Until we were done and I saw the balloons outside the entrance:

I got your Blue Morpho’s right there. That totally counts.

Update: Oh My Gosh. So, The Stone Rabbit blogged about going to the festival and my jaw hit the floor when I saw what happened and the pictures she got of the Morpho’s. You won’t even believe it. I don’t want to talk about it.


Every year for Rodney’s birthday he wants the same dang thing: me to make him a fried chicken dinner and a devil’s food cake. I guess I’m a traditionalist, too. I have to put the number of candles on a birthday cake corresponding to how old the person is.

His tradition he loves. Mine, well it’s causing more difficulty for him each year.

(With Andrea’s help, he did get them blown out. Hee!)

Pink Saturday

My first! (Thank you Beverly for hosting this sweet blog game). I assumed it would be easy to play; however, I don’t have as much pink around me as I thought. How sad is that? So it will be fun to search out this romantic color (and add more, as I obviously need to)!

My Barbie wall calendar’s picture for August:

The roses on my bluebird welcome stone outside the front door:

The bellies of these bluebirds getting ready to take a bath (who knew my bluebirds would be providing the pink):

And one of my favorite bubble-makers when I’m taking a bath:

Hmm. That last one looks like a pretty good idea for a lazy pink Saturday morning.

Available for Show

You know what’s so sad about putting your house up for sale? You get it as clean as the day you moved in… until it’s like new but better. Because over the years you’d figured out the most pleasing furniture arrangements and the closets are organized and you’ve hung pretty curtains that enhance all the views.

It’s lived in the way you like to live. Yet it’s spotless as if nobody does.

When we moved in 2 years ago the front porch was bare, new sod was fighting for its life in mid-summer, (the next door neighbors had no sod), and the plants our builder put in for landscaping were little babies (some of them didn’t make it). See?:

But check out these pictures I took Saturday (right after scrubbing the front porch down). A little more personality, right?:

The bench = my birthday present two years ago and the rocker = Mother’s Day gift from last year. (Imagine a big, healthy fern hanging nearby)…

And the surviving bushes grew!

The lawn survived, too, and *sigh* I’ll miss it.


So, Andrea’s boyfriend drew a picture of her on her white board a few months ago and I have been begging her to erase it. “Nooo! Ryan drew it!” One would think it was a piece he’d toiled over with favor and admiration. You decide:

I do love the MOM tattoo.