Gettin' crafty.

Last night, I learned how to make some pretty flower clips. This would normally not be considered news, especially with regards to a young LDS mom like myself, but for me, it's top story material.

I am the antithesis of crafty. I can draw, yes. But my motor skills are SEVERELY lacking. Let's just say in kindergarten, I got 1's and 2's in cutting and pasting, while the rest of the class was getting 4's and 5's. To this day, I can't cut in a straight line, can't fold straight, can't glue without getting glue everywhere, etc. When it comes to crafts of any kind, I'm a hot mess. And I'm not really ashamed to admit it. I have other talents, so it's OK. Can't win 'em all.

But, when the uncrafty finds a craft that is reasonably easy and attempts said craft, they often finish feeling very proud of their accomplishment.

Check out these little ditties, made by yours truly:

One for Mommy, too. :)

So, now it's time for YOU (yes, you!) to learn how to make Mormon Mommy/Baby Hair Flowers.

All you really need is a hot glue gun. No sewing involved (go ahead, I'll wait while you finish doing a cartwheel of joy). Buy some fake flowers at any craft store, a few jewel thingies, ribbon, and alligator clips. Glue the ribbon around the outside of the clip, so that it slides through the hair nicely without hurting or getting stuck. Plus it looks cuter. But, I suppose this step could be optional.

Next, basically cut/rip/maim the flowers so that the individual petal layers separate from the plastic stem (but don't cut the fabric petals, obviously). You can combine different colors, like I did with Bubby's, or you can do all one color like mine. Layer it up as much as you want.

Once you get the petals arranged to your liking, you can start gluing the layers together. All you need is a small drop of glue in the middle of each layer. Finish with a jewel in the middle.

Then, glue that pretty flower you just made onto the alligator clip. Make sure the petals hide the clip well.

Easy as pie! Now, you will be able to clip these flowers into your little girls' hair, or attach them to a headband for a baby (the bigger, the better for this). Or put them on your own head! It's the chic thing to do.

How to defeat a cockroach.

You'd think after having given birth to a child, nothing could scare me anymore.

But you'd be wrong.

I'm still terrified of bugs -- specifically COCKROACHES.

Now, I knew they were rampant in Arizona during the monsoon months. I've known that since I was little, when they'd frequently appear in our house in random places. But when I was little, all I had to do was shriek as loudly as I could, and Sir Dad would come to my rescue, wielding a flyswatter.

Such is not the case anymore, now that I'm an adult and live on my own. But that fact didn't stop me from trying to summon parental aid.

Disgusting vermin!

Upon seeing the foul creature, writing on its back in my bathroom, I immediately picked up the phone and called -- my mother.

"Mom!"

"What?"

"There's a COCKROACH in my bathroom!!!"

She said to murder it with hairspray; I said I was too scared. I asked if Dad could come get it for me; she laughed (maybe she thought I was kidding?). She suggested a vacuum; I thought that might be safe enough.

I attached the hose, plugged it in, turned it on ...

Couldn't do it. Blasted thing had antennae as long as shoestrings. I wasn't going near it, and I did NOT want to hear the loud THWUMP! it would certainly make as it was sucked into oblivion.

I then called the apartment manager's office.

"Hi. This might sound really dumb, but ... I just found a cockroach in my apartment, and --"

"What's your unit number?"

"Um ... 2076. But I was wondering if someone could come take care of it for me."

"We'll have someone come spray on Friday."

"But WAIT!! Can someone come GET it for me?"

(I know what you're thinking -- She's ballsy!)

"No, we don't do that. Just pick it up with some toilet paper, put it in the toilet, and flush it away."

"Oh ... Ok...."

(Yeah, right.)

Drat.

What to do? I needed a shower -- desperately. I could not simply avoid the bathroom for the rest of the day; it housed my precious make-up and hair products. Not to mention, toothbrush, deodorant, and oh, soap. I certainly wasn't going to be able to round up those items in one fell swoop. I had to remove the roach first. But how?

What to do, what to do ...

Then, I spotted our metal IKEA wastebasket. It was tall and heavy. A perfect mode of entrapment. It could work ... but ...

"Hey, Bubby!"

Of course, she eagerly came running.

I placed the wastebasket, upside-down, in her chubby hands. Then, I pointed towards the bug's location.

"See the bug, Bubby?"

"Buuuuuggg," she replied, pointing and nodding her head.

"K. Now, go put the BASKET on top of the BUG." I said emphatically.

She toddled over to the bug hastily, wastebasket in her hands, blissfully unaware of the vile filth that lay before her.

I couldn't take it. "NO NO NO!!! COME BACK!!!" I shouted.

She toddled back to me, a look of slight terror in her eyes. I couldn't bear to allow my daughter near such nastiness. I knew she'd probably try to pick it up or even eat it once she got near enough. This plan wasn't going to work.

Nay, this was a task for me to complete. I was supposed to be the brave one. Me, SuperMom. I could do it. I HAD to do it. Dill wouldn't be home for several hours, my mom wasn't going to do it, and my apartment manager certainly wasn't going to do it. It was all up to me.

(I did consider knocking on my neighbor's door at this point, but resisted.)

My options were limited. The wastebasket was still the best idea I could muster (meaning, the one that would allow me to stay as far away from the beast as possible), and I needed a shower. I had to be brave. I knew once that can was on top of that bug, I would feel comfortable enough to hastily retrieve the necessary objects from the bathroom so I could use Bubby's bathroom to get ready.

I scooted cautiously towards the roach, wastebasket in trembling hands. The bug gave a sudden, wild jerk; I screamed and ran. This would be harder than I thought.

But it had to be done.

I removed my glasses (so I couldn't see it's disgusting antennae and legs wiggling around), marched resolutely toward the spot, and raised the can over my head with a loud battle cry.

And with that, I trapped the unwelcome visitor underneath a steel, cylindrical cage.

Victory.

(Mind you, he was still on his back, probably not going anywhere.)

I cheered. Bubby clapped. We had won!

And that, my friends, is how you defeat a cockroach.

Let's just hope if I ever come across another, he'll be on his back, too.

I quit ChaCha.

And lest ye think I am flighty and non-committal, let me explain why.

My first month on ChaCha was great. It seemed every time I logged in, I'd get a steady stream of questions to answer. Questions which were usually reasonable, and not too hard to find the answer to. In an hour's time, I'd easily make $3 - 5. Plus, I was getting 100% scores on all of my answers, which caused me to become an "in-demand" guide. Meaning, I was just getting tons of questions when I logged in, and I liked it. I felt like I was actually working.

But THEN. At the end of May, I got a question I thought was relatively easy. The person wanted to know what the water temperature in Santa Barbara was. I found the answer, cited my source, and moved on.

Somehow, I got a 0% on that particular question. Why, I don't know. I didn't dispute it in time, so it shall forever remain a mystery.

So, guess what happened to my 100% average? It dropped below the minimum requirement of 95% (plummetted, actually. To 85%). And guess what happened to the questions? They pretty much stopped coming.

I'd sit on ChaCha daily, during Bubs' nap, and I'd get maybe 3 questions in the 2-hour timeframe. Roughly, 22 cents an HOUR. That's close to the wage of a sweat factory worker.

I was frustrated. Here I am, a college grad, a grammarian AND a journalist who really knows how to work the Google, and ChaCha finds me unworthy to do their bidding. Puh-LEASE. I am so over it.

So, I cancelled my account. I should be getting the $35.99 I earned in the mail sometime within the next two months. So yeah, it's not like I was doing it for the money.

Would I recommend being a ChaCha guide to a friend? Sure. If you are going to be at home all day anyway, you might as well put your Internet surfing to good use and make some money while doing it. But, 10 cents per question is not going to feed your family, no matter how extraordinary of a guide you are. And you'll probably be severely deflated when you answer a question incorrectly (yes, EVEN QUESTIONS THAT HAVE NO ANSWER) and suddenly find yourself cut off from the rest of the ChaCha Universe.

But, you can always cancel your account if you hate it.

As for me, I wish I could find a decent work-at-home job ... but it seems impossible at this point.

A devilish delight.

One of my favorite blogs is Our Best Bites. It's a foodie blog, started by two young moms who love to cook and try new recipes. Their recipes are fairly easy and use pretty basic ingredients -- totally up my alley. Plus, they're notoriously delicious! Just look at how many followers they have if you don't believe me.

The other day, I was perusing the site when I noticed two recipes that, if combined, could possibly make the most sinful, devilish cookies ever known to mankind. The mad scientist in me cackled; a plan was hatched. I carried it out ... the result:

These scrumptious bad boys, which I like to call "Devilish PB Cookie Sandwiches".

For the cookies (Cake Mix Cookies):

1 box Devil's Food cake mix
2 eggs
1/3 c. oil
1-2 T water

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Combine cake mix, eggs, and oil. Add water if needed. A doughy mixture should form. Roll dough into 1 inch balls and arrange on cookie sheet, 1 - 2 inches apart. Flatten slightly. Bake for 6-7 minutes. Careful not to overdo it; you want these to be soft and chewy! Yields 24-30 cookies.

Peanut butter filling:

1/2 c creamy peanut butter
1/4 c real butter, softened
2 C powdered sugar
1 t vanilla
2-3 T milk

Using an electric mixer, whip the peanut butter and butter together until smooth. Add powdered sugar and vanilla. Then add milk, one T at a time. You may not need it all. You want the filling to be on the thick side; it should just have enough milk in it to make it easily spreadable. If you add too much milk (like a normal frosting consistency) it might squish out of the cookies when you take a bite. Frost flat side of cookie and sandwich with another.

Sink your teeth in and relish every sumptuous moment.

Wash it all down with a glass of milk.

And there you have it. The most eeeevil recipe on the planet. Enjoy!

Why I like the pixie cut.

So, it's been about 5 days since I got my new haircut. I am really enjoying it and still think anyone who has entertained the idea of getting a pixie cut should take the plunge. Reasons:

1. For one, it is simple to do. From wet to styled, it only takes me about 10 minutes. I can go many days without washing it ("no-poo" is much easier to handle with short hair). And when I do need to remove the product, I just use warm water, conditioner and old-fashioned friction to get my hair squeaky-clean and ready to go.

2. It's lighter for summer. No need for hair-ties when you've already got warm-weather hair!

3. My lipgloss doesn't get stuck in my bangs anymore.

4. Bubby and other small children can't pull my hair out as easily, and it doesn't get caught on things (yes, my long hair used to get stuck in doors, tangled around necklaces and earrings, and would catch onto tree limbs occasionally).

5. It's just plain cute.

6. And ...

... it's ...



...so...



...versatile!

So we dig it. :) One of the best decisions I've ever made (along with marrying Dill and moving back to Arizona).

I promise, this will (probably) be the last post about my hair. I just want any pixie cut fence-sitters to see how much fun it is to have short hair. You can totally do it. And if it doesn't turn out just right ... well, hair grows!

Mom the Intern Ditches the Mom-Do.

As most of you know, I had been planning on chopping all of my hair off for some time now. I even wrote an entry about it recently. And while I was semi-serious about this venture, I was also semi-insane.

Who, after 18+ years of having long hair, decides to whack it off? ALL OF IT?

Exactly. A crazy person.

But here's the deal. We all know that until yesterday, I had a Mom-Do. And not a cute Mom-Do, either. It was a frumptastic son-of-a-gun in desperate need of an overhaul.

And as I committed to the No-Poo experiment, it only got frumpier.

And frumpier.

Point is, my Mom-Do had to go.

And go, it certainly did.

I wish I had taken a picture of all the hair on the floor, but I was too stupefied to even consider it. Let's be honest -- I've NEVER had short hair. By any means. I've had a few bobs in my lifetime, but nothing, NOTHING so drastic as a pixie cut. So it was a tad unnerving to see a pile the size of a Pomeranian at my feet by the end of the whole ordeal.

After a lot of texturizing and some fun highlights, I was pleased with the result and no longer astounded at how much hair I'd lost. I loved it.

So here, for your viewing pleasure:

Before:

After!

And that, my friends, is why we love the pixie cut. :)

So now, if any of you have been contemplating this drastic change, you should know you can do it and you'll look amaaaaazing.

Fabulous hair courtesy of Rebecca South, Hair-Do Salon.

'Twas only a bug bite.

Yes, that disgusting pustule on my face was nothing more than a bug bite which I had "allowed" to get infected when I popped it with the needle (whoops). Doc gave me some high-powered antibacterial ointment and it's shrunken quite a bit. And he also told me to, and I quote, "Keep [my] fingers out of it because they're dirty."

Thanks, Doc. I'll remember that from now on.

In the meantime, we're dealing with additional skin issues here at La Casa Loca; Dill has recently been diagnosed with skin cancer. On his proboscis. Which is not surprising, because his proboscis is very large and protrudes quite a bit. And it has a large bump on the bridge, which happens to be the precise location of said skin cancer.

So, the lesson today is this: if you have a large nose, put sunscreen on it.

*Don't think I'm insulting my husband's face. He is extremely handsome and wears that large nose very well. Don't believe me? See for yourself.

It all began in February. I noticed at some point that Dill had what appeared to be a large ZIT on the bridge of his nose (now you see why I was so worried about that bug bite?). No worries, I thought. It will go away.

Months passed, and the zit came and went ... and came and went, several times. I should have been worried then, but I was more concerned with surviving my internship.

Last month, I noticed the zit-thing was still hanging out on Dill's nose and decided to call the dermatologist. I'd never known a zit with a life span longer than a few weeks at most, and this thing was going on four months.

Doctor took one look at it and said, "It's cancer."

After its initial removal and a biopsy, the doctor concluded it's basal cell carcinoma (which isn't as bad as melanoma) and Dill will have to undergo more surgery to have it all removed. Basically, that sucker wasn't planning to check out from the Hotel D' Nez any time soon.

So, we're a little sad around here and wishing it wasn't true, but my husband is a skin cancer victim.

WEAR SUNSCREEN. I can't say it enough. Folks, the sun -- it's out there. And it is no respecter of persons. It will burn dark-haired people like Dill and it will burn fair-skinned blondies like myself. Don't assume that since you have olive skin, you can't get skin cancer. BECAUSE YOU CAN.

Better to be safe than sorry, right?

If you don't hear from me in a while, I probably died.

Well, whattaya know? It's my blog in the background.

It all began on Sunday. I woke up and had that familiar feeling on my face, just below my bottom lip. A zit would soon be making its debut, and judging by the amount of pain it was causing, it would be huge.

The day waxed on and by nightfall, there was a sizable bump there. And it hurt. Alas, this was going to be a big one.

Monday (yesterday), to my surprise, Mr. Zit hadn't really gotten bigger, but the area around him was swollen and extremely sensitive to touch. Even talking hurt (which is unfortunate when you talk as much as I do). The pain radiated down to my jawline. The area was swollen, the skin stretched thinly.

I'd never had a zit quite like this one...

I admit, when something like this happens to me, I tend to take matters into my own hands. So that's what I did. I went into the bathroom, pulled out my sewing kit, sterilized a needle and popped a hole in the sucker. I fully expected a gallon of pus to come gushing out. A few drops of blood trickled out, followed by clear fluid. I squeezed it for 5 minutes before I couldn't handle the pain any longer. This was no ordinary zit, I determined. Besides being huge, it was causing way too much pain.

I slapped a Band-Aid on it and went on with my day.

This morning, when I woke up, my entire throat was swollen, along with my jaw and the area around the zit (which I am not sure is a zit anymore).

Check that thing out. Yucky.

What could it be? I don't know. A bug bite? Probably. Or maybe it is a heinous zit from hell. We'll find out when I go to the doctor today at 2.

It doesn't help that Dill found out last week he has skin cancer on his nose.

So, maybe I was bitten by a deadly insect, or maybe I have skin cancer. Either way, it appears I am in grave danger.

I'll keep you posted. That is, if I survive.