Rocks In My Dryer

*UPDATED WITH A WINNER!* Remarkably Painless Swimsuit Shopping

Lands' End has managed me to look un-horrible in a swimsuit.  And I don't know how to give them a finer endorsement than that. 

I've long been a Lands' End fan (their little boys' pants are the only ones I've found that can actually make it through three rounds of hand-me-downs), but I'd never had one of their swimsuits before.  I have one for the first time this season, and I love it. And yes, I know that $100 is pricey for a swimsuit, but I aim to go swimsuit shopping only once a decade.  Ten dollars a year isn't bad.

This top (in navy and white) and this skirt (in navy) are mine.  They are, of course, in a size 4.  [*insert sound of lightning striking me down for that lie*]. 

Because I love you, and because I love Lands' End, and because Lands' End loves you, and because we're all just one big happy swimsuit love-fest, they're offering a $100 Lands' End gift certificate to be given away to one lucky commenter on this post.  Leave a comment, and I'll draw a random winner a tomorrow (Saturday) morning at 9 am CST.

*UPDATE*  Comments are now closed--the contest is over.  The winner is Jill from Omaha (@cox.net).  Congratulations!

The Fine Art Of Family

I promise I'm not turning this into a giveaway blog, but both today and tomorrow I have some fun, giveaway-ish stuff going on.  So if you don't like free stuff (and who ARE you?) then you can close your eyes for the next two days.

Just in time for Mother's Day, I thought you might enjoy hearing about the Fine Art Of Family.  They make heirloom pieces celebrating...well...the fine art of family.  I love how sentimental and feminine their stuff is--especially the lockets.  They've even been written up in Newseek and People.

If you are married to, you know, a man, let me suggest that you gently tip your monitor so that your husband can see it, and I will say,

"HELLO, HUSBAND.  YOUR WIFE WANTS THIS FOR MOTHER'S DAY.  BE A DEAR."

I'm here to serve, y'all.  Just here to serve.

Just for fun, The Fine Art Of Family is giving away one Round Floral Half Locket (picture above).  It's made of sterling silver, and the retail value is $190.  For your chance to win, leave a comment on this post telling which of their products is your favorite. I'll draw a random winner this Wednesday morning from all commenters.

Have fun!

*THE COMMENTS TO THIS ENTRY ARE NOW CLOSED.*

This Is How You Know You've Been Blogging Too Long

Hobby Lobby is my second favorite store in all the land.  (Yes, I said second favorite--details of the first favorite are coming to a blog post near you very soon.)

I love everything about this store--the sales are amazing, and oh great day all the crafty gear makes me instantly want to weave potholders the minute I walk into the door.  They are probably running a craft-lovers racket, and I am the Chief Sucker.  My budget has taken a battering over the years, because, "Look!  It's decoupage glue for 50% off!  And what if I need decoupage glue in the next decade?" 

See?  Chief Sucker. 

Yesterday Corrie and I went to Hobby Lobby to buy some end-of-year teacher gifts.  Now, here is where I should tell you that as much as I love their store, their grocery carts are horrible.  Nearly every one I've ever used has been top-heavy and wobbly.  There was one incident years ago in which my then-one-year-old son ended up hanging upside down by his pants, and I can assure you it was entirely the cart's fault.  My preoccupation with the 50%-off florist ribbon had nothing to do with it.

We walked in, got a deathtrap cart, and Corrie asked if she could stand on the end of it.  I said no, because I am a safety-conscious woman who watches Dateline NBC.  I turned my back for 2.8 seconds to get a sales flyer (because I needed to know what entirely useful craft supplies were 50% off this week).  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of metal and my daughter crashing toward the floor.

In slow motion, I turned to my right to see that Corrie, ever obedient, had not climbed up on the end of the basket, she had climbed onto the side of it.  The whole thing was in the process of falling down on top of her. 

And I, in that instant, wanting to redeem myself for the son-hanging-upside-down-from-his-pants incident, inserted my leg between my falling daughter and the falling cart. 

She is safe.  My leg, however, is not. 

It hurt SO badly that it took every bit of self-control I had not to sit down in the floor of the store and weep.  But I couldn't, because they might think I was one of those crazy lawsuit people, and what if they flagged me as a troublemaker and wouldn't let me buy 50% off scalloped scissors anymore? 

I managed to hold myself together, though I was gritting my teeth and fighting back tears.  I even finished my shopping trip.  (That is courage, y'all.  Courage.)  I came home and nursed my wounds.

But the point of this entire story (believe it or not, there is one) is that a few minutes ago I took a picture of my battered leg so I could blog about it--truly, there are some glorious bruises--when I realized in the nick of time that oh dear Lord, I nearly posted a picture of my thigh on the internet. 

I think I need a new hobby. 

Show and Tell

Our time in Uganda was scheduled down to the minute, but our team was eager to carve out even a brief time to do some local shopping and buy gifts for our families back home.

On our last full day there, we were taken to a huge local craft market.  They dropped us off and said, "Okay, you have 45 minutes." 

Forty-five minutes.  (Clearly, this was planned by men.  While we're at it, why don't we do the Louvre in half an hour?)

So, after a brief lesson from our Ugandan host about how to haggle (and knowing full well I was going to stink at it), we frantically jumped in the fray at a break-neck pace.  Here's a little corner of market (you can click on any of these pictures to see them enlarged):

Oh my word.  If you think it's satisfying to shop for handmade, mom-made items in the U.S., just try it in Uganda.  I could've stayed there all day.

Below are a few of the things I came away with (several of the things I bought have already found their new homes with family members).

Here is an elephant for my son Adam, carved from teak wood:

Here's a doll for my daughter Corrie.  You can't see it in this photo, but there's a tiny baby strapped to the back of this momma, just the way the African mommas carry their little ones:

Here's a little djembe (prounounced JEM-bay) drum for my Joseph:

And an undungu (pronounced un-DOON-goo) for Stephen:

The fact that I bought my two noisiest sons NOISE-MAKING ITEMS should tell you how out-of-my-mind lonesome I was for them.

Next is a cross carved out of teak wood (Sophie bought an identical one).  I adore this.  The second photo provides a little more detail:  there is a dove in the center, with hands making up the rest of the cross.  In my own mind, I've worked this out to symbolize the Holy Spirit (dove) enabling us (the hands) to share the love of Christ (the cross itself).  Not bad for someone on malaria drugs, eh?

This next one is my absolute favorite.  It's a nativty scene, woven entirely out of banana husk.  It especially struck me, because the day we were out in the village, we saw lots of mothers sitting under the tree weaving items out of these husks.  This is one of the common ways mothers make toys for their children.  I love this so much I plan to leave it out year round, not just at Christmas:

Our shopping trip took place immediately after I met our sponsor child, Dissan.  I saw this next little figurine, carved from soap stone, and I thought of him.  I bought it, brought it home, and I've put it on my kitchen windowsill.

I think of that sweet boy every time I every see it.

      

 

'Fess Up...

...how many of you went shopping at an ungodly hour on Friday morning?  Before this year, I'd only done it once, and I swore that I'd never do it again.

Until, that is, I saw the sale flyers.  Four a.m. doorbusters!  75% off!  These words speak to me.  Especially when two of the items I was already planning to buy this season were on sale to a degree so spectacular I couldn't not go.

And so, Friday at 4:30 am, my alarm went off.  I hit snooze twice and still managed to be out the door by 4:50, which should tell you a little about how I looked. 

First stop was Wal Mart, and there weren't quite as many cars outside as I expected.  I stood in the Wal Mart parking lot for a moment, pondering our nation's economic prosperity, and whether the slow retail environment might force the Federal Reserve Board to lower interest rates. 

Actually, no.  I believe my exact thoughts were something like, "Dang, it's cold."

Inside, the store was moderately crowded but courteous--I saw no pushing or arguing or body-slamming over the Hokey Pokey Elmo.

I did, however, see a sight that still has me scratching my head.  While I was there wearing a thick sweatshirt thrown over my pajama top, there were many women dressed to the hilt.  High-heeled boots, chunky jewelry, bright red sweaters.  At five in the morning.  "Show off," I muttered, as I shuffled past.  Okay, not really, but I thought it.  Evidently I am not an overflowing fount of Jesus' love before the sun comes up.

Next stop was...well, I can't tell you, because my brother reads this blog, and if I say where I went, he might guess what he's getting.  But again, I scored a fantastic bargain in an surprisingly non-crowded store. 

My third and final stop was where the real business was taking place.  Between 5 am and noon, JoAnn's had their flannel for 99 cents a yard.  It's regularly $5-$6 a yard.  For those of you who don't sew, you may not know how craft lovers are about their fabric bargains.  It's a little like getting between a momma bear and her cubs.  Picture a bunch of bleary-eyed seamstresses heaping bolts and bolts of flannel into their carts, hardly stopping to examine them first.  The funny part came as we all stood in line, eyeing each other's carts, casting irritated glances at our fellow shoppers who HAD THE NERVE to load their basket with twenty bolts of fabric.  They should have been much more restrained, like me, who only had EIGHTEEN.

So cutting were the glances that when I came back home and crawled back into bed (oh yes I did), I fell into a deep sleep in which I dreamed that a little old lady and I were in an all-out fight, whacking at each other with fabric bolts like they were light sabres.

Did I mention that I bought enough flannel to make 22 pajama bottoms?

TWENTY-TWO.

Can you even begin to imagine why any family would need 22 new pairs of pajamas?  Neither can I.  But when the bargains call, I answer, even when it makes no sense.  I guess I'll just have to insist that this family sleep a whole lot in 2008.

What about you?  I'd be interested to hear how many of you braved the crowds and cold to do business on Black Friday.  Just for fun, fill in the poll below.

How Cute Are These?

I was flipping through Good Housekeeping this week, and I saw that they highlighted this little series of books by Dover Publications.  These classic books are all paperback, they all have these chic vintage covers, and (be still my heart!) they're all only $3 each.  I want them all!

MUST. STOP. WITH. THE. PICTURES.  But don't you just love Elizabeth Barrett Browning?

Love this next one--Tennyson is my favorite poet.  I wanted to name one of our sons Tennyson, until Hubs pointed out he'd be called "Tennis" for short:

Really.  This is the last one.

*UPDATED* Practicality

If your 4th-grade son needs a shoe box for a school project, and there is nary a shoe box to be found in your house, then buying a new pair of shoes purely for the shoe box is, in fact, entirely unselfish and should be deducted not from the clothing budget line-item but the Vitally Important Educational Items budget line-item.  And it is purely an inconsequential coincidence if the shoes happen to be as rockin' cute as this:

*UPDATE* -- I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you that my oh-so-fabuloso educational shoes came from Target.  Smart and cheap.

Hmm.

I read this article and shook my head and sighed and wondered what was wrong with the world.  Then I thought of how I feel about my Dyson and I sheepishly walked away from the computer in shame.

And I vacuumed.