tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58542382560301370162024-03-05T11:25:06.111-08:00jenn of all tradesJenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.comBlogger371125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-66552735034192476072014-07-25T08:30:00.001-07:002014-07-25T08:30:51.417-07:00DIY date nightSometimes a busy schedule and small kids can equate to not having a lot of alone-time as a couple.<br />
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Sometimes the budget doesn't allow for a babysitter and a fancy restaurant.<br />
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Sometimes you're just too lazy to go out.<br />
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The solution? DIY date night!<br />
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Here's the how-to:<br />
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<u>Step 1</u><br />
Find a recipe for something yummy, unusual, and if possible, get your husband to cook it for you.<br />
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(enjoy the sight of someone else cooking, coupled with the wearing of a Star Wars apron meant for a six year old kid)</div>
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<u>Step 2</u><br />
Feed the kids early. Try something kid-friendly and cheap and easy that isn't the usual for them so they equate date night with something fun and special, too. Then put them in their room. Shut the door while chuckling evilly.<br />
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Also, shut the animals away somewhere where they can smell the food but not approach it. </div>
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<u>Step 3</u><br />
Sit on the couch reading a book while your husband cooks for you. Try to enjoy it and not get up every five seconds to see if he's okay, or if he needs something, or if he's going to burn it all.<br />
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<u>Step 4</u><br />
Set the table. Light some candles. Make it as nice as you can.<br />
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(okay that looks kind of boring but better than the usual bare table with wipe-off placemats)<br />
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<u>Step 5</u><br />
Put on something nice. You wouldn't go out to eat in your pi's, so don't do it at home either.<br />
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<u>Step 6</u><br />
Enjoy! Try to pretend you're surrounded by the white noise of other people's conversation, rather than the sound of frogs and your kids making sound effects in their bedroom.<br />
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(By the way, he made some French dish with sea scallops, mushrooms and shallots in a creamy tarragon lemon sauce with Gruyere cheese...good grief it was delicious. My man can COOK when he wants to!!)<br />
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Et voila! One little way to keep a marriage happy.Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-76458105927530040892014-07-21T06:27:00.001-07:002014-07-21T06:27:49.691-07:00opportunities<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="600" mozallowfullscreen="" msallowfullscreen="" oallowfullscreen="" src="https://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/7543493460/in/set-72157627196953399/player/" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="800"></iframe></div>
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Things around here have been busy to say the least, leaving me with very little time for fun things like painting or sewing. *sigh* I miss crafting!<br />
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But I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things now that vacations are done, VBS is over with, and some semblance of a routine is creeping back into our lives.<br />
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One of the projects that I hope to start soon involves an opportunity I have to go back to Swaziland next summer. Our church, teamed up with <a href="http://www.hopealive268.com/" target="_blank">HopeAlive268,</a> is planning another trip in June of 2015, and this time both my husband and I are hoping to go to work with the orphans there. Some of the projects include construction, helping in the hospitals, and working directly with the kids.<br />
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A year may seem like a long time to prepare and raise funds, but last year's trip already seems like yesterday, and I know the year will fly by quickly. Especially when we have $6600 to raise between now and then.<br />
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That being said, I am in the process of planning a Craft fair around Christmas to raise funds for the team, which means I'll need to get cracking soon if I'm to have anything to sell by December. We are trying to find a venue where we can set up booths for individual artists, or themed booths (like a jewelry booth for all handmade jewelry donated to the cause, a booth for all sewn things) if individuals don't have enough stuff for a whole booth. We would like to open it up to the community with the understanding that all sales will go towards funding the team to Swaziland and helping with the supplies we will be bringing over to help the people there.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">If any of you crafty readers have anything you would like to donate to our fair</span>, please let me know you are interested and I will keep you informed as the planning continues. If you are part of quilting guilds, please spread the word and see if anyone else would like to help.<br />
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Maybe you don't have anything handmade to donate, but you would like to help us out financially? If so, you can go to GoFundMe.com and donate to our page. Every little bit helps!<br />
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I would really welcome any ideas or advice that any of you might have on having a Craft Fair--from setup to getting the word out to even what to make! Help a sister out. :)</div>
Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-69973048953055977622014-04-01T08:41:00.002-07:002014-04-01T08:44:04.104-07:00owning it<div style="text-align: center;">
Five years ago this summer, my family went from itinerant rental-dwellers to first-time homeowners. In all those years slogging through the desert of white walls and beige carpets and a few sad plants on the patio, I dreamed a dream of the idyllic life I would have once I had a place to call my own.</div>
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I would have goats. </div>
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There would be a huge organic vegetable garden to sustain my family. </div>
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My house would be clean and perfect and artistic and cozy. </div>
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My yard would be a quaint cottage-like riot of morning glories, hollyhocks, foxgloves and daisies.</div>
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*Cue epic music*</div>
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I dreamed a dream in time gone byyyyyyy…..</div>
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And then…we actually bought a house. Those of you with a home and a mortgage and finite amount of money are laughing with me right now. I mean, what a wake-up call, right? </div>
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But still, it's way cooler than apartment living. I can paint the walls whatever color I want and nobody can stop me from destroying all the lawn in the backyard to grow vegetables. Score!</div>
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That being said, I have learned quite a few things over the last five years, through a lot of frustrating experimentation. Like:</div>
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1.<b> Organic gardening in Florida is really for people who have nothing else to do besides think about organic gardening.</b> It's a full time job. And although my yard is pretty big, the space with full sun is not actually big enough to grow anything besides a few cute snacking veggies. Not worth it for me.</div>
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2. <b>Chickens and other livestock are for people who want to be stuck at home. Like, all the time.</b> Cause getting people to babysit your chickens when you go out of town is not as easy at it sounds. Plus they destroy what lawn is left after all that veggie gardening.</div>
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3. <b>A clean artistic house is for people whose kids are grown or go to public school</b>. And possibly for people who have maids. The best I can hope for is a moderately clean house that is semi-artistic. Cozy we got. </div>
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4. <b>Cottage-like plants hate Florida. </b></div>
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So. After beating my head against the wall trying to fit a square peg in a round hole, I've decided to give my chickens away, give up on vegetable gardening, be okay with kid-messes, and stick with what I'm good at, which, apparently, is growing pretty, non-cottagey plants in the yard. After years of dissing tropical plants, I'm learning to love the things that actually grow here. I do still really hate 99% of all palm trees, and I'm not a fan of bromeliads (a.k.a. mosquito breeding grounds), but there are a lot of pretty plants that are way better to look at than a lumpy denuded dirt patch that smells of chicken poop. </div>
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Now my current task is to design an oasis that can take the place of the minefield we currently call a backyard. Today I did a little doodle, to kind of cement in my head what plants I know grow well in my yard, and so I could have a visual of textures and heights so I can start putting things together. Plus I just like to doodle. </div>
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I guess my point is this: wherever you are at, own it. It's not worth the headache trying to be something you're really not (in my case, a homesteading, all-natural, veggie-farming, chicken-raising perfectionist) when you can be just as happy growing what grows and living the life you've been given. I'm finally realizing (after about seventeen years cause I'm dumb) that God has me where I am for a reason. It may not be the life I thought I'd have but it's good nonetheless. </div>
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Now to go hunt down some black bamboo….</div>
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Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-4544357168798205272014-03-10T13:34:00.000-07:002014-03-10T13:34:14.851-07:00bee brave, part deux <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-oZdYYrd0eOBbrEPiExOlLro4maNwcCEBDkkZZRGPiv7lP2xFyWhC1XKT4rj3MQ7IZyZdFV8GX3UYxi4NYppLkmgfpEdW5fjMwj_qkr76AdGJ7kI4-Z4bwnhR-m8rad8rQwV_WJDTTas/s1600/swarm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-oZdYYrd0eOBbrEPiExOlLro4maNwcCEBDkkZZRGPiv7lP2xFyWhC1XKT4rj3MQ7IZyZdFV8GX3UYxi4NYppLkmgfpEdW5fjMwj_qkr76AdGJ7kI4-Z4bwnhR-m8rad8rQwV_WJDTTas/s1600/swarm.jpg" /></a></div>
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Have you ever been around swarming bees? It's kind of intimidating.<br />
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When a hive starts to get overcrowded, the bees will start to raise up a new queen, and the old queen leaves with a chunk of workers to go elsewhere. If you can catch or trap the swarm, you will now have two hives instead of one. Which is pretty cool, and the reason we currently have five beehives when we started with one. </div>
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What is slightly less cool is the way they start to freak out, and a giant cloud of darting bees rises up in the air in a cartoon-like ball of activity. Walking outside and looking up, the sky looks darkened and the sound…well, it's just like what I imagine sticking your head inside an angry hive would sound like. You have to wait for them to settle somewhere, and that somewhere is usually an impossibly high tree branch. They start to coalesce into a giant beard of insects, protecting the queen and flocking to her pheromones in preparation for moving on. The trick is to get them before they fly off. </div>
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Enter my husband, with a hacksaw and a deer stand, climbing thirty feet up a skinny maple tree. He gets up pretty high, then looks down at me and says:</div>
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"Hey, I need you to go get a veil on."</div>
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What? Oh aitch E double hockey sticks NO. I don't even do bees when they're in a moderately calm hive. I certainly don't do falling branches covered in a swarm of ticked-off stinging insects. No. Just…No. </div>
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"You'll be fine, they won't sting you."</div>
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Uh-huh. Right. The angry bugs won't sting me. They don't even like me on a regular day. </div>
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But he's insistent. He needs my help. Can't do this without me. I'm having visions of the Hunger Games, tracker-jacker venom making it's way through my system before I die a horrible hallucinogenic death. </div>
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"FINE!" I yell. "But I'm not doing this in shorts and a t-shirt!"</div>
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I stomp inside, and put on jeans, put on boots and a button up flannel shirt. Tuck it in. Put on a veil. I look ridiculous but I could care less. I want to be as invulnerable as possible. I go back outside grumbling and stand nervously under the tree. He tells me to stand back for a second as he saws through the branch. Okay, Katniss. You go, girl. Suddenly the ten-foot section of tree falls and thousands of bees are shaken loose and begin to fly around angrily. But the branch is tied to a rope, and when they calm down somewhat he lowers the branch slowly toward me. I have to grab it and stabilize it on the way down, my bare hands just inches from a three inch thick layer of bees encasing the branch. I hold it steady, chewing on my lip, as he climbs down. Then we carefully carry the whole thing over to the box he's prepared for the swarm. </div>
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A short time later, all the bees are off the branch and in the box, with only one sting (not on me) to show for it. </div>
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And now we have five colonies. Eeesh. </div>
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I will admit to feeling a bit empowered by facing one of my fears, but it's not something I'm in a big hurry to do again. My only regret is not getting a picture of the process. I'm sure my outfit alone would have been blog-worthy. :)</div>
Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-47255384370295834032014-03-06T07:04:00.000-08:002014-03-06T07:04:47.133-08:00grownupnessPeople. I'm a grown up.<br />
The thing is, I don't feel like one. I don't feel like my chronological age matches my internal outlook on life. I still think of myself as "girl" and snort whenever someone refers to me as a "woman." When I get "ma'am'd" at Publix by the sixteen-year-old bagging my groceries, I look over my shoulder to see who he's talking to. Whilst doing cannonballs off the top of an airboat to impress my boys, the thought, "I am probably too old for this" never occurs to me. When I compare my own mom at this age to myself I think, "Yeah, but she was already a grown up then."<br />
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There's probably something wrong with me.<br />
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Recently though, there was one area of my life where I felt like a little growing up was in order. This is deep, guys, so get ready…it was…my bedroom.<br />
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You totally thought I was going to be all existential with you right now, didn't you. Hahaha!<br />
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But I am serious about my bedroom. For my entire adult life (and for probably my entire childhood life) my bedroom has always been the ugliest room in the house. I guess because I mostly just use it to sleep in, or get dressed in, and sometimes to read in. But ever since we bought this, our first house, it's annoyed me how hideous our bedroom was. I mean, all those years of apartment living were one thing--you're expected to live like an itinerant bachelor when you're not allowed to do much thanks to a rental agreement. But I OWN this room. And I hadn't done anything about it.<br />
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Dark beige walls. Halfway pulled out curtain rods hanging way too low (with no curtains). Mismatched-but-not-in-a-cool-way artwork hanging on clips. A busted, outdated, brass-and-oak ceiling fan. Only one nightstand. You get the idea. Ugly. Not a place to inspire tranquility. Or excitement. Or anything besides UGH.<br />
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Ew. What a mess.<br />
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Messy dresser, sad view.<br />
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So I started to plan. And think. I knew that if I was going to do something about this, I wanted to do it all at once. No gradual makeovers, I wanted it to do be done and done. So over the course of about five months I started to accrue things. I got some nightstands from a Living Social deal. Curtains from Ikea. Lamps on sale at Target. A velvet quilt on clearance and Target. My mom even got in on the action by getting me a Home Depot gift card for my birthday so I could get paint.<br />
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And then the day arrived. I wanted for this to be a surprise for my husband, so I waited for his next business trip to do the deed in secret. Being the most unobservant human on earth, he'd failed to notice my stash of bedroom stuff hiding out in my studio closet. Finally he was on a plane, and I came home and got to work. I spent a week painting (seriously, do you have any idea how many coats of white paint you need to cover a wall? Insane) which is a task I despise with all my being. I cleaned and hung hardware and enlisted the help of a friend to hang a new ceiling fan. I drew lines with a level and a ruler. I painted the insides of the window casings emerald green on a whim. I slept in the living room all week long and went to bed every night aching from all the painting. And then, I was done.<br />
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I mean okay, it's not going to be in a magazine anytime soon, but it feels soooooo much nicer to me. Putting the curtains up by the ceiling made the whole room feel bigger and less squatty, and the white really brightens up everything. I love it. I have a few things that still need doing, like some hanging planters I'm working on, and a shelf my husband is going to be build me, but all in all I am satisfied with my little bit of grownupness. One day that dresser up there will be replaced by a handmade midcentury console type of dresser (a girl can dream, and that's a dream I've been nursing since I was a tween) and maybe I'll finally be able to afford a nice persian rug, but for now, I'm happy.Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-91040913046280010192014-02-10T06:59:00.001-08:002014-02-10T06:59:45.626-08:00bee braveA few short years ago, my husband started taking beekeeping classes at the local university. That lead to buying two hives, which lead to swarms and re-queening and the never-ending building of more boxes and frames. And lots of honey.<br />
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Today we have four hives in varying sizes. One is very docile (aka: lazy) and the other three are busy and ANGRY. They particularly hate me. Every time I venture near a hive I get a few bees beginning to buzz and head-butt me, and eventually they chase me through the yard as I run yelping away.<br />
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They scare me.<br />
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But they are also kind of awesome. Did you know, for instance, that all the bees you see flying around are female? And that their stingers are actually ovipositors (egg-laying thingies) that don't work because they are suppressed by the queen's pheromones? It's pretty cool actually.<br />
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Still. I dislike the head-butting. I don't know where the panic comes from--being stung certainly sucks but it's not THAT bad. It's more of a instinctual reaction on my part: I hear buzzing near my ear, and suddenly my legs are carrying me far, far away.<br />
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Well anyway, yesterday was full of bee-related activity. I felt like drawing a bee, so I drew this:<br />
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Right about the same time, my middlest wandered near the hives right after my husband had dropped a frame he was inspecting (FYI--bees do not like being dropped). He had a bee land right on his eyelid and it stung him before I could smack it off. Poor kid. He was a trooper, though. After some understandable tears, he put on his veil and helped my husband inspect the last hive, which was way braver than I would have been. This morning, however, when he woke up he looked like this:<br />
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Yikes. Now he's a bit high on Benadryl but otherwise fine.<br />
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The moral of the story? I like bees…in theory. I like books about bees, and drawing them. I enjoy honey. But dang. I just can't seem to get to the point where I want to help with them, despite the cajoling from my husband. Unlike my eight-year-old son, I am a bee wimp.Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-41902712769720439392014-02-05T08:40:00.002-08:002014-02-05T08:40:39.063-08:00life, interrupted<div style="text-align: center;">
Oh, hi. </div>
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It's been awhile. I know. I'm bad. Here's a story to make up for it. </div>
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Once upon a time, on a day during which I was frantically baking sheets and sheets of cookies for our Christmas party, I got an unexpected phone call. It was the assistant pastor from our church (aka my brother's father-in-law and our good friend) calling to tell me that our worship leader was leaving unexpectedly, and could I take over? </div>
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Sure, I said, hardly believing what I was saying. We talked a bit more. I hung up. I stared at my shaking hands, disbelief coursing through me along with a good bit of adrenaline and panic. I started to do the math in my head. Saturday night. Two services Sunday morning. Wednesday nights. Thursday night practices. What am I doing. I am not cut out for this. I'm not an awesome singer. My guitar skills are…okay. My husband is going to have a heart attack when he realizes how often I'm gonna be gone. What if everyone hates me. What if I fail. </div>
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And then…quiet. I felt suddenly like God was saying, "You wanted to be directed, I'm directing you. You aren't good enough for this task, but I'm going to use you despite your own weaknesses." I had peace. </div>
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WELL. I still have peace, but I also have a whole lot more to do now, and my creativity has been channeled primarily into finding new music, goofing off on the ukelele, and trying to figure out slide backgrounds and something to do with the hideous fake plants on stage. </div>
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But I have had time for a few non-worship things. Like:</div>
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Exploring.</div>
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Quite a bit of painting. </div>
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Lots and LOTS of bike riding. </div>
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Running through a probably unhealthy amount of colored powder.</div>
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Birthday cake making. (This was a favorite--My niece requested "A rainbow cake with white frosting and gold everywhere and unicorns on top." Challenge: accepted.)</div>
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I guess I'm not as frantic as I thought. It's more that I have to choose to either do things, or to blog about those things. It's kind of either/or right now with everything, so I choose life. </div>
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On that happy note--see you in six months! Ha. </div>
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Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-76078097258471804792013-12-04T09:57:00.000-08:002013-12-04T09:57:50.343-08:00Christmas SummerOne of my friends from church, who is fairly new to Florida, told me that her daughter claimed that here there are only two seasons: Summer, and Christmas Summer.<br />
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*Sigh*<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's so true.</span> We had a lovely chilly Thanksgiving, and now for the beginning of December it's back to shorts and t-shirts for us. So we make ourselves feel Christmasy by watching our favorite Christmas movies (Elf, It's a Wonderful Life, and LOTR are the top three), covering the house in flurries of paper snowflakes, and generally making our home look kind of ridiculous and, according to my kids, "so awesome."<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/11209066923/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="IMG_1775 by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="IMG_1775" height="1024" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3750/11209066923_8e59f21566_b.jpg" width="683" /></a></div>
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I've also been busy making little presents for the littlest family members. Like these little mermaids for my niece…<br />
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And this little quilt top for my nephew, which was made out of the extra blocks I had from making the exact same quilt for my youngest. I kind of love that both the youngest of three will have the same quilts, and despite my reservations about quilting again, I really enjoyed getting back into to sewing.<br />
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I feel like this month is already flying by. I wish it would stop doing that, I want to enjoy it! :)Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-72244631749306983962013-11-29T05:54:00.002-08:002013-11-29T05:54:45.950-08:00Giving thanks<div style="text-align: center;">
I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving yesterday. I know we did. For the first time ever the five of us celebrated Thanksgiving in our own home, and it was very special for all of us. We relaxed, we wrote out things we were thankful for this past year, we watched westerns and Top Shot, we had a fire going all day (thank you Lord for a chilly Thanksgiving!!) and all in all had a great day.</div>
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Here's hoping all you people crazy enough to go Black Friday shopping stay safe! Next stop, Christmas…YAY!</div>
Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-64501883266238261862013-11-21T08:32:00.001-08:002013-11-21T08:32:51.528-08:00normality achieved I think I am almost back to normal, now. Maybe.<br />
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I've been trying for weeks to get back into a regular routine with school and chores, which is not easy when you've got a lot of non-normal stuff going on. Like camping out a friend's parents farm and riding horses (not me) and zip lining, and driving an airboat.<br />
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Well anyway, the house is (mostly) clean, the kids are caught up on schoolwork, and I've been able to start drawing and painting again.<br />
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That last one cracks me up. I don't know what made me tack that hat on at the end, but it made me and my kids laugh and also gave me all sorts of ideas for a series.<br />
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Also, after a year of quilting hiatus, my youngest has requested a bigger quilt for Christmas, so looks like I'll be back in the sewing saddle again as soon as my fabric arrives…I'm actually kind of excited to quilt again. I guess a year off was a good enough break to make me stop detesting my sewing machine.Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-8130748146269114002013-11-08T09:41:00.001-08:002013-11-08T09:41:04.247-08:00my buffer is fullI have a friend who likes to say her "buffer is full" when she's overtired or overworked and whatever is running through her head flies unedited out of her mouth. The phrase always makes me laugh (as does her unedited commentary) and really nails how I've been feeling lately. Ever since I got back Stateside I feel like my mind is overloaded with stuff it can't possibly process all at once. My buffer is full, my CPU is bogged down and my mental status bar is moving so slow it appears to have stopped.<br />
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I know--that was about three computer metaphors too many.<br />
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But still. It fits for now. As I sift through pictures and memories and lessons learned, and as I try to not forget the meaningful experiences while also trying to not dwell in the past, my mind seems to be slowly catching up.<br />
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One day I might understand it all. In the meantime, it's back to the day-to-day regular life stuff for me, which is both hard to face after all that adventure, and soothing at the same time.<br />
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Here's something that has nothing to do with any of that. After I got back from Swaziland, I had a few days at home and then I was on a plane again, off to pick up my kids from my mom's house in California. While we were out there we went to a big pumpkin patch/carnival thingy with the kids, and they had a great time. These are some of my favorite pictures.<br />
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Oh my gosh look at our legs in that picture. It gives me the giggles.<br />
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<br />Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-67306051550262248972013-10-31T14:21:00.000-07:002013-10-31T14:21:58.188-07:00full. <div style="text-align: center;">
Two weeks ago I got back from Africa. Since I got back, I've been going through the motions of normal life while trying to process the backlog of thoughts, experiences, and emotions that built up over the course of our 18 days abroad.</div>
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I've been trying to think of a good summation of the experience, a quick one-liner that I can toss about in answer to the inevitable question of, "How was your trip to Africa?" and I'm coming up short. How on earth do you cram your reactions to a trip like this into one pat answer? The thing is, you can't. Not unless you had a completely superficial time, in which case a superficial response would be appropriate.</div>
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I did not have a superficial time. During this trip I felt excited, horrified, homesick, silly, peaceful, comfortable, uncomfortable, and awed. There were moments I could barely contain myself from joy and others where I felt like just staying upright and working were the most difficult things I've done.</div>
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We flew, we drove, we built and knocked down, we fed the hungry and were fed ourselves. We sang, and listened to the songs pouring out of a people who seem to have joy despite the grimness of their circumstances. We spent a day sprucing up a children's ward of a hospital, painting walls with tears pouring down our faces while the little girl who was burned from the waist down screamed in torture having her bandages removed. We were stretched beyond the scope of our normal experience, put on the spot, forced to get along even when we were tired and getting on each other's nerves. We bought bags sewn by prostitutes who are trying to learn a trade other than the selling of their bodies.</div>
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We ate fresh sugar at a sugar mill and stood ten feet away from a wall of fire watching them burn down the sugar cane fields.</div>
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We met so many awesome people who have made it their purpose in life to bring hope and the love of God to the country of Swaziland.</div>
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Right now, the only word I can think of to describe how I feel is full. Full of joy that I got to go, and that I am back home. Full of longing to go back, to spend time with the people I met and the ones I already knew and was around every day. I feel full of the desire to keep helping, and full to overflowing with thoughts I can't yet make sense of. I am full of gratefulness to God for His love, His provision, and His infinite patience. For the first time I understand the response of Mary in the gospels, that she kept all the things she heard and pondered them in her heart. It's not something that can be instantly understood, categorized, and filed away. It means more than that, and I suspect that I will spend more time that one would think trying to make sense of the ways in which my time in Africa changed me.</div>
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I pray I have the opportunity to go back one day. I truly loved it in Swaziland. </div>
Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-14699874919341343872013-09-26T06:41:00.000-07:002013-09-26T06:41:13.191-07:00four days.In four short days, I will be on a plane heading for South Africa.<br />
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In four days, I need to:<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Pack.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Pack up my kids schoolwork.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Actually make a lesson plan for the two weeks they'll be with my mom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Pack up my guitar stuff.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Learn a bunch of kids songs, and accompanying hand motions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Finish illustrating a book about Noah.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Find time to go on a date with my husband.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Find time to take my mother-in-law, who has been here all month, to the beach.</span></div>
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No biggie, right? Four days is Puh-lenty of time.<br />
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Last Saturday, one of our team leaders asked me if I could do some illustrations for some kids books. They had actual books, but they were tiny and we will be reading out loud to a large group of children, so they copied the books out onto a big sketchpad and they needed some pictures to go with it.<br />
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"No problem!" I said. After all, I'm here to help.<br />
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And then I realized what I needed to do. EIGHTEEN pages of large drawings. In one week. While homeschooling and packing and finding time for a date and beachgoing. Oye.<br />
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I think I got a little slaphappy because when sketching out ideas for the second book about Noah and the Flood, I put dinosaurs in the queue with all the other animals loading up into the ark. I asked our leader if that was okay, and she said she was pretty sure that the dinosaurs never made it onto the ark since they're all extinct.<br />
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I couldn't help myself...<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9950208965/" title="no dinos by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="no dinos" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5482/9950208965_ec05353711_b.jpg" /></a><br />
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I dunno, too irreverent?? :)<br />
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Anyway, here's hoping and praying we have a great trip. Seeya on the flip side!!Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-7240022119812855082013-09-10T09:13:00.000-07:002013-09-10T09:13:55.601-07:00yes. So my last post was kind of soul-baring for me. I realized as I was writing it how difficult it is for me to be honest about the things I hope for, particularly where my faith is concerned. I get scared that I will look like I'm asking too much. And honestly, I know that 3,000 bucks is a LOT to ask.<br />
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My bloggy friend Lynz left this comment on the previous post:<br />
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<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">'I heard a fabulous thing the other day.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"> </span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><i>"God answers our prayers - sometimes the answer is no." </i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><i>Is that not just perfect? I hope you get what want. But if not? Mick said it best - you'll get what you need!'</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; line-height: 19px;">This is something I've been taught since I was a kid--that when we pray, God always answers, and sometimes that answer is yes, sometimes no, and sometimes <i>wait</i>. After a lot of prayer, and conversations with my husband, I realized that God was probably trying to tell me no, or at least "not this time." The timing of the trip, the fact that I'd missed all the meetings, had not a penny of money, and all the craziness of needing to fly out while my mother-in-law is visiting from Russia, plus getting someone to watch my boys...needless to say, it seemed like something that would be better suited for the next trip. Y'know, adequate planning, ducks in a row, that kind of thing. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">God definitely says no sometimes. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">And sometimes He says Yes. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; line-height: 19px;">On a Saturday afternoon I got a call from my friend Lynda. She told me that one of the team members for the Swaziland trip had hurt his back and wasn't going to be able to go, and they had prayed about it and felt like they should give his ticket to me. Not just the ticket, but lodgings, food, and recreation day expenses...all paid for. Every bit of it. She said my only expense for the whole trip is to pay for the ticket to be switched to my name, and any extra cash for when we're in the airport, or </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; line-height: 19px;">souvenirs</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; line-height: 19px;">. That's it. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">I stood at my kitchen counter, in my pj's, juicing celery and crying my eyes out. I couldn't believe it. I mean, I'd totally resigned myself to the fact that this would not happen. I said I believed in miracles, but really I only believed in them when they made sense, fit within a time frame, and were convenient for everyone. I worried about the timing for my mother-in-law's visit, but my husband said everything would be fine. I wondered if it was too late to find someone to watch the boys, but my mom is taking care of them for me while I'm gone. Everything is taken care of, and all I had to do was sit back and see God work. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">I'm going to Swaziland, everyone!! In twenty days, no less. Agghh!! God is amazing!</span></span>Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-42592083590226316452013-08-12T09:32:00.000-07:002013-08-13T07:02:08.315-07:00I believe in miracles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhajvjCLrFyif67mZfHaXFz58sD-iEx_L3SgH4PUH98EfpljifqYPkbbNi_Bz52jU5XPNMI5Fny_aJgQBCq5tqXZR7WV-7AbUQuqVDDtUcXs9wsX_loDON_pv1qE00KJwVej8DvfZHrEqM/s1600/IMG_1378.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhajvjCLrFyif67mZfHaXFz58sD-iEx_L3SgH4PUH98EfpljifqYPkbbNi_Bz52jU5XPNMI5Fny_aJgQBCq5tqXZR7WV-7AbUQuqVDDtUcXs9wsX_loDON_pv1qE00KJwVej8DvfZHrEqM/s640/IMG_1378.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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About four years ago, as some of you may remember, I began making quilts to send with our church on a mission's trip to Swaziland in Africa. I had generous people donating quilts as well, and we were able to send quite a few over for the orphans there. We also made stuffed animals and other toys to send. Seeing my friend's pictures of those colorful quilts spread on the beds of what was once a cheerless clinic was such a blessing to me. I felt honored to be a part of that, even if part of me wished I could have been there myself to help out, I had a newborn so that wasn't really an option for me at the time.<br />
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A few years later and we were making pillowcase dresses and cotton shorts for the 80+ orphans being cared for at the Siteki Care Point. We pumped out a ton of cute little dresses, and once again I felt both blessed and a bit jealous that I couldn't be part of the team of people going out there to build, feed, and share God's love with the hurting people in Swaziland.<br />
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And now it's today. In just a little over a month, another team will be heading from Tampa, Florida to Swaziland to minister to the people there. Once again I find myself scrambling to find something to donate to the cause and feeling that longing to be part of the team going out. I happened by the little table in our church's lobby, laden with sign up sheets for a fundraiser dinner, craft sale and silent auction, and I felt that pull again. I started talking with Lynda, the team leader and founder of <a href="http://www.hopealive268.com/" target="_blank">Hope Alive 268</a>, and she said she wished I was going to help with the music because they love to sing so much over there. I wanted to cry.<br />
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"I know it's too late," I said. "I know you're leaving soon and I have no money and nobody to ask because everyone I could ask is probably already supporting another team member. I just want to go so bad!!"<br />
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And then she reminded me that if God wants me to go, He will provide. I know this. I KNOW this because I've seen it in other people and even in my own family when my parents had no idea how they would get to Russia and then a huge check arrived at the last minute allowing them to go. I don't know why I doubt. I guess it just seems so unreasonable. I would need $3,000 to go. The ticket needs to be bought asap to ensure I'd be on the same flight. I need someone to watch my boys while I'm gone.<br />
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There are lots of obstacles. Seemingly insurmountable ones, too. But I know that my God is a God of miracles. The longing in my heart to help, the desire I've always had to go to Africa, the feeling that I just need more of Him, the need to see His work and feel connected to my brothers and sisters in other countries--if these things are leading me toward Africa then three g's is nothing in His economy. And if not...well, then I guess He wants me where I am for now.<br />
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I do believe in miracles. I accept that they're not always part of the plan. But oh, I want to see Him do something crazy, something glorious, something rad.<br />
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In the meantime, I'm donating all my goat's milk soap for the craft sale. If nothing else, it was a good incentive for me to get off my butt and finally package them all up. :)Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-71235823757770877012013-07-30T05:42:00.000-07:002013-07-30T05:42:07.109-07:00lately<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9398571199/" title="bells of the ball by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="bells of the ball" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5520/9398571199_f38773af98_b.jpg" /></a></div>
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There is something about the languid, melting summer heat that seems to evaporate all my desire to accomplish anything. The energy that drives me all year long to clean, make, run, DO is distilled in the laboratory of southern humidity, until I'm left with a tiny concentrate of pure laziness. Where normally I would be frantic to "get things done," I find myself lolling on the couch like a slug, content to watch reruns with my kids and listen to the summer thunder. I wander around the yard beaming at my flowers. I pass by my studio with a "meh" and a shrug. I contemplate the unfinished household projects and tell myself with a wise nod that it can wait awhile longer. I convince myself that putting off the start of a new school year for one more week won't kill anyone.</div>
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Everyone gets into the spirit of summer laziness around here.</div>
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Which is not to say we haven't had anything to do. We had a solid week of Vacation Bible School, which involved decorating, waking up on time, and a long drive. I sang at a funeral. My oldest had another whole week of Lego robotics camp and my middlest has started taking gymnastics.</div>
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But when I'm at home, I'm stuck in that navel-gazing lethargy that smacks me upside the head every summer in Florida.</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9401327296/" title="buddleia by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="buddleia" height="640" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3750/9401327296_23d59a1e0d_b.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
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I did manage to build this tuteur trellis for my coral honeysuckle. I couldn't find a plan online so I totally winged it. I have to say I was pretty proud of myself--especially considering my brain was too heat-muddled to do any real calculating so all the mitered edges of the crossbars were guessed at. Worked out perfectly! The best part is that I saw my very first hummingbird flitting around it the other day. My mom has armies of hummers buzzing around her house in California and I have always wanted to see some here. I doubt I'll ever see as many as she gets but I'll take what I can get.</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9398568631/" title="tuteur by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="tuteur" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5332/9398568631_3daea8eb9b_b.jpg" /></a></div>
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On the top of my list for favorite summer things, right up there with violent thunderstorms, are my mexican sunflowers. They were the only seeds that germinated from a cheap pack of wildflower seeds I bought years ago, and they come back every year and bloom right up until November or so. The bees and butterflies love them and I love to watch them flit around the cheery orange flowers in the bright sun.</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9398564351/" title="mexican sunflower by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="mexican sunflower" height="1024" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3825/9398564351_c185bfe5df_b.jpg" width="683" /></a></div>
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I have that feeling that soon enough we'll be right back into the busy swing of things, but for now I plan on milking the stillness for all its worth.Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-58897534665172559412013-07-04T06:14:00.000-07:002013-07-04T06:14:33.710-07:00on the fourth<div style="text-align: center;">
Ah, summer. Books, swimming, storms, parties and fun. Happy fourth of July!</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9202029026/" title="hello ladies by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="hello ladies" height="683" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3802/9202029026_1d1bdf7b1d_b.jpg" width="1024" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9202023576/" title="unlikely bloom by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="unlikely bloom" height="1024" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5495/9202023576_73d87eff83_b.jpg" width="683" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9199232231/" title="entropy by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="entropy" height="683" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7384/9199232231_722aed68ec_b.jpg" width="1024" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9199258785/" title="the empty swing by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="the empty swing" height="683" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2866/9199258785_1269a74fc1_b.jpg" width="1024" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9199236005/" title="at the end of the day by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="at the end of the day" height="683" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3714/9199236005_e1a017ee7a_b.jpg" width="1024" /></a></div>
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Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-67682797526901233022013-07-03T07:12:00.000-07:002013-07-03T07:17:58.757-07:00questioning one's sanityAfter a few days of some serious avoidance, I felt like I was ready to get a start on gutting my new sofa.<br />
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I came armed with a notepad, camera, and a mental resolve to face something I knew would be pretty gross.<br />
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I was not disappointed.<br />
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With the shop fan on full blast, trying to decide which was more disgusting--breathing through my mouth or my nose-- I started to examine the couch. I learned from doing the wingback chair that you have to be systematic--taking things apart in the reverse order of how they were put on, making note of the order for when it comes time to put the fabric back on. It also helps to take pictures of tricky bits that are easy to forget. Thus prepared, I started peeling off crusty yellowed gimp cord, only to reveal hundreds and hundreds of tiny nails.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi04io8Kk6AxJ_9SkKob4Qb3fUEXpnuK4Vj2jFJ-zRfFhkt-5D7epCHv1q6wq1lXaWx6I5tYKNs_QOZV2KOsbBQEhKxV8tgQIzOLVBC83dhlUrgb-Yin9gr6acghpDbO860FrR2-QAQlnM/s1600/IMG_0922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi04io8Kk6AxJ_9SkKob4Qb3fUEXpnuK4Vj2jFJ-zRfFhkt-5D7epCHv1q6wq1lXaWx6I5tYKNs_QOZV2KOsbBQEhKxV8tgQIzOLVBC83dhlUrgb-Yin9gr6acghpDbO860FrR2-QAQlnM/s640/IMG_0922.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
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NAILS. Not staples, which come off fairly easily, but flat-headed, flush-with-the-wood nails. Ugh. </div>
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As if digging a bazillion nails out of old, smelly wood wasn't bad enough, I discovered that the couch was stuffed old-school style with some kind of weird fiber over the cotton batting that, when tugged upon, exploded into a mist of ancient pee-soaked dust to be immediately absorbed by my nose.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBJ-3QS7IpxIvTAfA6lGPOgzMvEiGv5iKJL6oVY8IkAAOugBCLnDjyTZrmtyz_WrxZRYTNtZYk8mefg8mzwtF97VjfUfJVvZAmQ1eEjrHSvkxXz211Bzi2AvZmDRxeoSNqd0j-137nPZ8/s1600/IMG_0932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBJ-3QS7IpxIvTAfA6lGPOgzMvEiGv5iKJL6oVY8IkAAOugBCLnDjyTZrmtyz_WrxZRYTNtZYk8mefg8mzwtF97VjfUfJVvZAmQ1eEjrHSvkxXz211Bzi2AvZmDRxeoSNqd0j-137nPZ8/s640/IMG_0932.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Halfway through!</td></tr>
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It took me a good three hours of nail pulling, ripping, yelling, gagging, and holding stiffened yellow brocade as far away from my body as possible to get it (mostly) gutted. I left the bottom layer of webbing with the springs attached for two reasons: I wanted to keep the springs together until I'm ready to re-tie them, and I was just tired.<br />
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I bagged up all the junk, vacuumed up all the nails (expect the baker's dozen I had stuck in my flip-flops jamming into my feet), and called it a day.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKYe7kQrFRLHP63V8uKfHW8ujUbbBeJa4QUbAiBjBAQv4VpFgMlwb7itGGx_fNcFmDsM1Y9sMJ6G4YgKpR36X2IViqmlqZ5h7sV9kyQiLTcSNn8OYy5t4woUh9FFpfXQUJDtW8rvmsMcQ/s1600/IMG_0937.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKYe7kQrFRLHP63V8uKfHW8ujUbbBeJa4QUbAiBjBAQv4VpFgMlwb7itGGx_fNcFmDsM1Y9sMJ6G4YgKpR36X2IViqmlqZ5h7sV9kyQiLTcSNn8OYy5t4woUh9FFpfXQUJDtW8rvmsMcQ/s640/IMG_0937.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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Next step: refinishing the wood, and replacing one crossbeam that is likely ruined by the pee.<br />
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At many points during the gutting process did I begin to question the mental soundness of taking on this project. All I can say is, it better turn out good.Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-65171111873646433772013-06-25T04:04:00.000-07:002013-06-25T04:04:38.763-07:00urine luck, part deuxI just got the couch of my dreams last night. Here it is:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkfMvksLAMWX23RbTXeE2EIyym8gWYIol8QrENHou536JI2XYwg0QekTDGnCtjaWgbJEHtmVscELz7fPyhASVWcMSi3h2uRkL7kJ9jGwae3jWftfb6ACknd22YvU3le5lwJa-q3kpDIxk/s1600/gray+couch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkfMvksLAMWX23RbTXeE2EIyym8gWYIol8QrENHou536JI2XYwg0QekTDGnCtjaWgbJEHtmVscELz7fPyhASVWcMSi3h2uRkL7kJ9jGwae3jWftfb6ACknd22YvU3le5lwJa-q3kpDIxk/s640/gray+couch.jpg" width="560" /></a></div>
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Hahaha oh...*wipes away a tear* IF ONLY.<br />
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Anyone remember last year, when I posted <a href="http://seejennmakestuff.blogspot.com/2012/03/urine-luck-or-misadventures-in-sewing.html" target="_blank">this</a>, about using my iron to sear some hot cat pee into old satin?<br />
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Well it looks like I've inherited another project of the cat pee variety, and I'm super duper excited about it. Okay not the cat pee part, but the project. Meet my new baby.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9127540703/" title="hot cat pee, again by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="hot cat pee, again" height="683" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5494/9127540703_6a71957da2_b.jpg" width="1024" /></a><br />
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Tada! Oh boy. I found this on Craigslist, and was instantly in love. And like the true waste-not dumpster diver that I can sometimes be, I said, <span style="font-size: large;">"Cat pee? Pshaw. I've dealt with that before. Total reupholstering? Easy! <a href="http://seejennmakestuff.blogspot.com/2010/09/busy.html" target="_blank">I've already reupholstered a wingback chair (that I found next to a dumpster)</a>! How hard could this be?"</span><br />
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Um.<br />
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It was free? That's all I can say in my defense. And she's got good bones, really solid, nice wood, and I love her profile. And this time around I kind of know what I'm doing. For example, I know that I need to get fabric I'm sure I'll still love in 5 years, aka the gray velvet I've been longing for these past four years. I need to get a staple gun for the air compressor because last time around I got carpal tunnel from using a squeeze staple gun 40,000 times in two days. And I need to refinish the dumb wood BEFORE I reupholster. Ha.<br />
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Really though, as much as I don't look forward to tearing out antique fabric covered in at least a gallon of feline whizz, I really enjoy making or re-doing furniture. I mean, I made this bed for my youngest:<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/5730330708/" title="Mal's new bed, unfinished by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="Mal's new bed, unfinished" height="893" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5106/5730330708_9ee3f0bf47_b.jpg" width="1024" /></a><br />
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I built this bench to go with my table.<br />
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Years ago, my sister-in-law scored a really messed up orange table that was a prop at Urban Outfitters. The table top was crap, but I loved the legs. After a few years of sitting in my husbands shop, I recently took them down, painted them, used a wire brush on the painted-over brass toe caps, and attached them to a small pine table top. </div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9127544739/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" title="legs all done by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="legs all done" height="400" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3797/9127544739_8fb6fc9049_b.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9129764596/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="orange legs by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="orange legs" height="400" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3801/9129764596_77df3fbe46_b.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9129760440/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="painted over brass caps by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="painted over brass caps" height="300" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2842/9129760440_68cf8f259b_b.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9129756272/" title="chair and table after by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="chair and table after" height="1024" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3705/9129756272_780b023b9c_b.jpg" width="768" /></a></div>
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Oh and see that chair there? It was six bucks at the scariest ghetto thrift shop ever. Here it is before:</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9127552665/" title="chair before by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="chair before" height="1024" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7441/9127552665_597df9e404_b.jpg" width="768" /></a></div>
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I tore off the seat cushion, stripped the wood, sanded the heck out of it, and used some leftover leather I had to re-cover it. I gotta admit, I was pretty proud. Even my perfectionist husband was impressed with that outcome.</div>
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I've really made or fixed quite a few things, so I'm hopeful about this new project. <span style="font-size: large;">Now I have a question for you all:</span> does anyone have any experience with button tufting? Because I'm seriously thinking about changing that smooth back to a tufted one. Thoughts? Opinions? I'm just curious.</div>
Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-46290303463706149072013-06-24T08:47:00.001-07:002013-06-24T08:47:40.367-07:00get happyThere are a lot of reasons to hate summer in Florida. The number one reason is, of course, that living in the subtropics in the summer months is something akin to making your dwelling on the surface of the sun. Only with more humidity.<br />
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But even if we wimpy humans don't care too much for the sweaty sultry summers, there are lots of other living things that seem to really dig the heat.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9125263947/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="angels by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="angels" height="640" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7330/9125263947_de3f461970_b.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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Like my flowers. The angel's trumpet that started as a six-inch cutting last winter is now taller than me and starting to make its first humongous, peach-tinted flowers. These flowers are about 9-11 inches long! I love the way they look, like a girl in a pretty dress twirling around.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9125274867/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="tree frog by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="tree frog" height="640" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5349/9125274867_77cd62fe48_b.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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The frogs love the wet weather and take every opportunity to attach themselves to our windows, doors, light fixtures, and occasionally my head. I admit, I scream like a little girl when that happens.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9125285831/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="clear for landing by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="clear for landing" height="683" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7409/9125285831_a3cef782b3_b.jpg" width="1024" /></a></div>
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The bees are doing amazing, necessitating the building of this giant "bee condo" as our friend called it.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9125246081/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="bee condo by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="bee condo" height="640" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7444/9125246081_966566d384_b.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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A few weeks ago my husband extracted our first real haul of honey. We got four GALLONS from one box alone. The other box we left for the bees to eat. That hive is doing so well that yesterday my husband made a split--if all goes well we will have three hives soon!<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9127478398/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="the evolution of poo by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="the evolution of poo" height="426" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7295/9127478398_d37eb26719_b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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My compost pile is also digging this wet hot weather. The other day I was marveling at how fast it's all breaking down, and then I noticed some wriggling action going on in there. Curious, I did some research and discovered my whole pile is full of black soldier fly larvae, which are super beneficial little bugs to have around. They turn poo and food into garden gold, and can be fed to chickens as well. Score!<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9125253245/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="happy tomatoes by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="happy tomatoes" height="640" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3778/9125253245_55170fc5dd_b.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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The tomatoes in my hay bale garden are very happy. I did have a massive zucchini plant growing out of the side of the bale until very recently, when it suddenly dropped dead overnight. I discovered a MASSIVE fire ant colony around the roots--apparently they tunneled right through the roots and killed the thing dead. Up until that point, however, it was the best zucchini plant I've ever grown. But it had a good season before it kicked the bucket, and now it's compost, so that's still happy.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9127499714/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="singing the song of his people by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="singing the song of his people" height="640" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5478/9127499714_92d7f55b1e_b.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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This lizard seems pretty happy.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9127490654/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="happier chickens by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="happier chickens" height="640" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2880/9127490654_99faf5542a_b.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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And lastly, my super handy husband is finally building my chickens a legit chicken coop. I'm pretty excited about this and I know they will be too. I can't wait to see it all come together!<br />
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C'mon now--get happy!Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-86385616800081910442013-06-19T07:53:00.000-07:002013-06-19T07:53:34.929-07:00unbirthdayI have this friend. We hardly get to see each other, for no other reason than that we both seem to have terrible timing. Because of this timing, we missed each others' birthday. So yesterday we made up for it by having an unbirthday party.<br />
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In honor of this unbirthday, I made dark chocolate cupcakes with salted caramel frosting and caramel sauce drizzled on top.<br />
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*Buuuurp*<br />
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Ahem.<br />
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Diabetic coma, here we come.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9074746449/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="diabetic coma by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="diabetic coma" height="683" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2850/9074746449_d1dd649d0e_b.jpg" width="1024" /></a></div>
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Try not to judge me on my cupcake frosting. I seem to have misplaced all my piping equipment, leaving me with the oh-so-classy Ziploc with the corner cut off treatment. Ha.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9076971584/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="diabetic coma by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="diabetic coma" height="1024" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2844/9076971584_10888c54cb_b.jpg" width="683" /></a></div>
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There was an exchange of soaps, honey, teacups and journals, and cupcakes (and coffee ice cream) for all, which made it a very merry unbirthday indeed.<br />
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Here's hoping your day was as sweet as mine! Now to go loosen the ole pants button...<br />
<br />Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-59033144687913779752013-06-13T14:08:00.003-07:002013-06-13T14:08:48.828-07:00let them make cake<div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9037218514/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="behold by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="behold" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5501/9037218514_173a2d9221_b.jpg" /></a></div>
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I'll be the first to admit, when it comes to anything artistic, I relinquish control about as easily as a rabid pit bull with a mouthful of tasty human flesh.<br />
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My first step in letting go began when I was teaching preschool back in 2006. I would hover anxiously, biting my nails as I observed the vomit-like playdough disaster that was supposed to be a dinosaur. I would repeat the mantra in my head: <i>let them be messy, let them do what they like, this is them being creative. </i>I'd get through about three rounds of that before I would shove aside the budding four-year-old artist and yell maniacally, "Here, let ME do it!!"</div>
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Yeah, I know. I have issues. </div>
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Fast forward to the day when my own children begin to want to try things on their own. Can I paint, mom? Can I sew a stuffed monster? Can I make some cookies? </div>
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Sure! I say with gritted teeth and the tingling in my kneecaps that indicates an oncoming attack of control-freakishness. <i>Let it go, let it go, let it go...</i></div>
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The other day my oldest said, "I want to bake something." Okay, I replied, but let's plan it out: figure out what you want to make and we'll get the ingredients we need. He said he wanted to make a chocolate cake, with raspberry jam in between the layers and cream cheese frosting on top, decorated with fresh raspberries. (No joke. His exact words.) So today I took a deep breath, stepped back, and let him at it. </div>
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Now I can't help it, I'm a homeschool mom so I like to take opportunities to teach even if it's not on a formal level. So I stood there while he made the cake and offered him advice and explained to him the reason why you do things the way you do when baking, but it was still all his work. The only thing I did was put them in the oven and pull them out. </div>
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He was so meticulous spreading the frosting and arranging the raspberries.</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9035001945/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="creative license by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="creative license" height="640" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7295/9035001945_93f8f74e31_b.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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In the end, there was a burning need to make bunny ears on the cake. Because creative and serious do not always (okay, pretty much never in this house) go hand in hand.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9037219960/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="photobomb by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="photobomb" height="683" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2875/9037219960_6f91fda4a2_b.jpg" width="1024" /></a></div>
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I can't say I'm 100% cured of my inability to not interfere, but I'm slowly getting better. I'm like, maybe 80% cured. Maybe. A solid 75% for sure. Yeah.<br />
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In the meantime, I'm proud of my kids for wanting to try things. And now I get to eat cake. </div>
Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-85056503278295287772013-06-11T05:57:00.000-07:002013-06-11T05:57:41.513-07:00the lightning rodA few months ago I decided I wanted to try some mixed media art. Hey, I thought--I have several copies of Robinson Crusoe, why not use the pages of the junky copy to make the background?<br />
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I admit, I felt slightly sacrilegious cutting up and modpodging pages of a book to a blank canvas.<br />
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<i>But it really was a badly worn out paperback that I probably spent 50 cents on at the used bookstore, </i>my inner voice of self-justification whines.<br />
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Still. It went a bit against the grain. I love books. I never throw them away (unless you count some of the iffier books that were given to me as presents by people who obviously had no idea about what I would consider innapropriate. Ahem.)<br />
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Yesterday, after much hemming and hawing over what I actually wanted to do with said canvas, I decided to paint a buffalo.<br />
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I like buffalo. I think they're neat. I like to imagine a place where herds of buffalo roam, free as the wind, and for some reason in my mind there are deer and antelope cavorting there as well. I would probably call that cloudless place my home, because nobody would discourage me and there are buffalo. Anyway. Here's Bernadette.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennofalltrades/9014915345/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="bernadette by jenn of all trades, on Flickr"><img alt="bernadette" height="1024" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2886/9014915345_7ca6d80a6e_b.jpg" width="497" /></a></div>
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When my husband came home last night, I showed him Bernadette. His response was, "Hungh. Tatanka," followed by "!!!" when he noticed that I had defiled a book in the interests of making art.<br />
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Today's weather report shows that there's a 50% chance I'm going to get struck by lightning. Kinda wish I'd held on to that copy of Rubber Suitmaking For Dummies.Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-57827781805372200772013-06-05T05:00:00.000-07:002013-06-05T05:00:10.001-07:00retroactive makesUhhhh...wellllll...<br />
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I admit, with all that's been going on lately, I completely forgot about my resolution to make something I've pinned on Pinterest each month and document it.<br />
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I mean I didn't forget to <i>make</i> stuff, I just didn't remember to y'know, take pictures and keep track of it all. Plus the bulk of my pin-inspired makes were in the form of recipes I tried, and I never take pictures of dinner. Ha.<br />
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So here are a few super late pins (or pin-inspired) things I made in April and May (and maybe just a teensy bit of June):<br />
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This past weekend I was the cake-maker for my friend's baby shower. I kinda pulled from various cakes I'd seen on Pinterest and then proceeded to do whatever the heck I wanted to. I liked how it came out. It was a dark chocolate orange cake with cream cheese frosting, with lavender, succulents, buddleia, and sugared blackberries for garnish.<br />
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<i>On a kind of unrelated note, all those flowers on the cake and the table are from my garden. Aren't they pretty? I'm so excited to finally have some pretty things growing in my yard. Yay! Ahem. </i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyr8l2jg7QytRTGFLXoxW6AYvIWzlHIeG2QPUgYpPe9gs6ESs9nawCj_vdA7LVwkBvJj4Keo9KNLhFBp4gR97sNPnoMjN414SvXyRzCz9csfhGbPqJmzc6WFTbykVi5xrX_w5vzefT3_k/s1600/cakeida2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyr8l2jg7QytRTGFLXoxW6AYvIWzlHIeG2QPUgYpPe9gs6ESs9nawCj_vdA7LVwkBvJj4Keo9KNLhFBp4gR97sNPnoMjN414SvXyRzCz9csfhGbPqJmzc6WFTbykVi5xrX_w5vzefT3_k/s640/cakeida2.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Photo cred</i>: Rachel Copple</td></tr>
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Considering that when the planning meeting for the party went down I was at home cooking dinner on a cande-lit campstove and washing my dishes with pool water (power outages are FUN!), and all I had to go on creatively was, "something violet," it all came together really well.<br />
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Let's see, what else? After all the craziness of company and races and traveling, me and my boys needed some down time. So clad in our pj's, we busted out the big box of craft sticks and tried the <a href="http://earlylearning.momtrusted.com/2013/03/popsicle-stick-chain-reaction/" target="_blank">exploding popsicle stick chain reaction</a>. It was awesome.<br />
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I made homemade ginger ale using <a href="http://www.monikakotus.com/2010/07/homemade-ginger-ale-two-ways.html" target="_blank">this recipe</a>. It was nothing like store bought ginger ale but still... surprisingly yummy and refreshing.<br />
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I got a hydrangea and some pampas grass (which looks gnarly right now, so no pic), both of which were on my <a href="http://pinterest.com/jennofalltrades/plant-wish-list/" target="_blank">plant wishlist</a>. Hopefully they will do well where I put them.<br />
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How about you all--and fun makes lately??Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5854238256030137016.post-63914810619649012152013-05-28T14:02:00.001-07:002013-05-28T14:02:35.070-07:00iiit'sss....alive!!Ten years ago, our oldest was given his very first quilt, made by Grandma CynDe.<br />
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It lived in South Florida.<br />
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It moved up to North Carolina.<br />
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It traveled to various locations in Russia.<br />
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Finally, it settled in Tampa, Florida.<br />
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It has been drooled on, barfed on, peed on, pooped on, and in all likelihood, bled on.<br />
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It has been washed at least a hundred times, none too gently and probably with the wrong kind of detergent. It's been dragged all over the house and outside of the house and into cars and tents and airplanes.<br />
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Most importantly, it's the Dinosaur blanket. On most days of the week ending in "day," the kids play Dinosaur with their dad. The etymology of this particular name is too convoluted to get into; suffice it to say it involves Papa being draped in a blanket and crawling around grabbing, eating, and pooping out our children. I know, it's weird. Please don't call social services on us. Anyway it's super funny.<br />
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Over the years, a few popped seams had turned into big tears in the thin fabric. I felt like maybe it was time to retire the Dinosaur blanket but my husband, who is usually not very sentimental about stuff, was adamantly against it.<br />
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"Can't you just fix it?" he asked innocently.<br />
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Ugh. I hadn't even so much as LOOKED at my sewing machine since December, and I wasn't in a hurry to set her up again. And the quilt was in such bad shape. But he gave me the puppy eyes, and I found myself plugging in my machine and picking out thread that kinda sorta matched.<br />
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I figured there was really only one thing to do: go over all the tears with a satin stitch. I know that this is essentially perforating fragile fabric but I wasn't about to spend a year trying to fix a beat up woobie that will likely spend the rest of its short life being whipped around, stepped on, and formed into a sack for carrying around small children.<br />
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It seemed to work pretty well. For now. Sure, the thread doesn't really match and it looks like a surgical procedure gone wrong, but hey. It's in one piece. And thus the Dinosaur blanket was reborn, and renamed.<br />
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Introducing: Frankenblanket.<br />
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Jenn Grigoryev (jenn of all trades)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14066252668862274059noreply@blogger.com2