Bitter pill to swallow

We tried growing lettuce this year. Crazy I know. But it grew. And looked pretty. Then I picked some and ate it in a salad. It made me cringe how bitter it was. I guess I didn't pick it early enough, and the heat caused it to bolt and be bitter. But that's what I love about gardening. You get multiple chances each year for a do-over, learning as you go and growing yourself as you do. If you don't do some sort of gardening, I highly recommend it. It feeds you body and soul. 

Here's Vincent frolicking through my flowers. You can just glimpse my simpson lettuce. This picture is a little old, and probably right when I needed to pick the leaves. 

Garden fresh but bitter lettuce on the left and another garden's cucumbers (they were tasty, thanks Katniss!) on the right. 

Clearance flowers

Yesterday I was in an uber grouchy mood. Not sure why. And I needed to go to the store. Vincent is a good store buddy. He loves going to the store, and he's really good too.

We headed to Walmart and I was determined that I would buy some clearance flowers for my patio. 

For $9 I got three mandevillas. You can see them in the picture above hanging out with my containers of herbs, tomatoes, and a few flowers. I plan to buy some worn stone urns to plant them in. Since I have extra pavers, my sister had a great idea to place them sporadically around the patio and place containers on them. Great idea!

The Patio

I struggled with what to call this post, and decided simply to call it The Patio because it has a story. The Patio actually came to be from reading Young House Love's experience of putting in their own patio. That John made it look so easy and beautiful. And I thought, "Surely we can do that." 

This project began last summer. Did you catch that? Last. Summer. And it isn't an easy project. It's not a short affair like YHL's was, which was done by a single person!!!

Oh, did you notice that I used present tense there? Well, that's because it's not done. We have three rows left, which probably equates to three hours of work if not more. It's back breaking, sweaty, and frustrating work. And the perfectionists in us are struggling with doing it right. Except when we're not doing it right. We're probably doing every part wrong to achieve a patio that works for our sloped yard. I'm hoping the end result, which should be done this weekend since we'll be kidless, will still look good. If it doesn't, I might have to move. 

Because we are building such a large patio--I think it's around 6ft.x15ft--we needed to dig down half an inch for every foot. We dug down 7in. I think that's the correct math. It sounds small, but it isn't, especially in 107 degree weather we experienced last summer.

So we dug, and my in laws even got in the action <--forever grateful. Then we laid weed blocker, base, and sand. We rented machines we had no business operating. We laid probably a fourth of the patio before we got derailed by the surgery husband needed. So two tarps were purchased, and The Patio was covered. And it sat until nearly halfway into the summer because of some heavy rainfall we experienced this spring and early summer.

This summer we uncovered it. Purchased more bags of sand and base. We learned our lesson there. Go to a place that will deliver a bulk pile. Live and learn. And learn how to calculate properly. I think that first day back on the job we laid five rows we were so eager to make headway on The Patio. Now we have three rows left and I'm itching to cruise patio sets (we'll buy one next year since almost all sets are sold out), flowers I want to plant, and some containers to put around here and there with flowers. I'm aiming for a Tuscan feel, but it might end up being more rustic (read: DIY and beginner experience)

One day, I'll share more on our process, what we spent (haha...budgets), how it turned out, and some other ideas have I have percolating. 

Um, hello

I've decided to come back to the world of blogging. I've spent months soul searching about it. Do I blog? Am I oversharing? Who cares to read what's happening in my life? Does blogging make my ego look fat? In this time, I've journaled. A lot. And it's still something I hope to do. There's something about the old-school form of taking pen to paper, not worrying about adding pictures but letting your words describe what's going on in your life. Your words are your pictures. Sure I condense it down more than I would if I were blogging because I am prone to writer's cramp, but I choose those big moments of what's going on, not currently standing in line at Walmart and here's a picture of it. Although, that's sometimes fun too. But I miss this too. It's a little more creative.

What am I coming back to? I'm not sure yet. My organized brain wants to put together a blog calendar, schedule posts, do projects, take pictures, but the other part of me wants to not miss enjoying little moments because I'm trying too hard to capture them on this blog.

Anywho, I'm coming back, if you care. Next week my sister from Oklahoma comes to visit. We're bound to get into trouble (wine) and have fun (more wine). Also, catch my world in pictures or in 140 characters.

Accountable

I told myself I have to get on the treadmill tomorrow and start training for the MuckFest. Blogger better hold me accountable!

Insta TGIF

This week wasn't crackling with lots of happenings. It was more Operation: Lets Get Back On Routine. You cannot slack on routine with a kid. Unless you want to pay with sleep deprivation. Extreme deprivation, at all levels.

I think we might be starting a new tradition in our house where the first Friday of the month we get Papa Murphy's. You can get a giant Cowboy (pizza, not a man, shucks) for $13. Vincent enjoyed watching the pizza get made. I enjoyed not having to drum up dinner. The added bonuses: Vincent likes to spear things with a fork. Pizza=spearable. Also: it was one dinner and two lunches. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Vincent is reaching his ornery stage of toddlerhood. We're talking pushing boundaries, not backing down when told no, testing the limits of gravity on the couch. Someone is bound to get hurt. It'll probably end up being me. Just look at that face. What's he planning?!

Remember how I me mentioned the need for routine? Well, one of the reasons is this: falling asleep playing wherever, whenever. Why? We've been waking up in the middle of the night. Schedule out of whack! Yes, it's cute and adorable that I captured such a sweet face. But it's a sweet face that should be resting in a crib an hour from this photo, not falling asleep wrestling dad on the floor and using his belly as a pillow.

I broke out my bread maker. It's been seriously under used. It may have even been covered under an inch of dust. Imagine me covering my face in shame. But that changes now. I had all the ingredients to make whole wheat bread. It was amazing. A little too dense, but amazing. I will never again look at store bought bread the same way. I plan on making jalapeño cheese bread next. Yum!

Super Bowl Sunday was a party at B's house. Apparently Aunt B and Vincent were prepared for the black out. And Vincent partied like an animal. He chased B's poor dog around, did some dancing, got complimentary airplane rides, and enjoyed staying up way past his bedtime. Mama and Daddy paid for it.

I finally whipped out the paints for Vincent. We used the Color Wonder set. I wasn't impressed. They smelled bad and it was hard to see what you were doing because, like the markers, the color takes a while to develop. I did learn Vincent loves to paint.

Whew! It's Friday! Insta edition

Well, it's been a couple interesting weeks. Actually more than a couple. I learned I lost out on my dream job after preparing a presentation for an arduous second interview. I'm told my experience and professionalism were impressive. Close but no cigar. It would have been a lot of cash too. To cut through the disappointment I'm telling myself I really couldn't be the kind of Mama I want to be and be the type of hardworking and devoted editor I would have needed in that job. Que sera sera and all that. (And possibly a couple glasses of sweet red wine that goes down like grape juice.)

I'm also drinking this. Kinky: Vodka therapy in a glass.

At Camp Vincent we're battling sleep issues where he screams when we put him in his crib. And we've tried crying it out, but I think the cap on that is an hour, wouldn't you say? I think I've discovered that this only occurs when I put him down and might be some 2-year-old (this month! OMG!) mama separation issues, so guess who gets the honor of putting the boy down now?! Lets pretend I'm not secretly enjoying this. And that I don't sprint to my bedroom for some Damon and Stephan hautness (hello Vampire Dairies). We've also noticed that Vincent might be letting go of his sippy cup and is enjoying drinking out of an open cup (ok, so I do give him some OJ in his cup, but whatever works, right?) He can also name every animal he sees and make the corresponding sound (his elephant isn't appropriate, sounds like a fart...and it makes me giggle every time). He loves counting everything, just not in sequence and everything starts at two. Ah well, I figure he has another year to get it down pat. Colors are off too because everything is blue! But we do know quite a bit of the alphabet song, which is a surprise since I don't do much letter stuff with him. I feel learning the alphabet isn't as important as numbers and that the alphabet comes a little more easily ad naturally since we read all the time.

Goldfish addict. Exerting not-often-seen independence.

If there's a theme to this week, it's food. This boy has been eating nonstop, and my grocery bill shows.

The way Vincent eats a cutie isn't for the faint of heart. There's a lot of spitting skins out. At least he's organized about it.

Vincent is fascinated with computers and we rarely let him around ours. Check out that Oshkosh butt. I think jeans on little legs has to be the cutest thing ever!

Some people of wine-cork-filled centerpieces. I have cork and Little People centerpiece. It's the next trend in decorating. You saw it here first!

To say Vincent likes to read is an understatement.

This week's dinner entertainment: peekaboo Vincent! I didn't get the "Here's Johnny!" picture of him sticking his head through the chair slates. He channels Jack Nicholson perfectly, minus a few year.