A is for animals

When I had an in-home daycare, we focused on one letter of the alphabet per week.

I made this memory game using our pets' photos. (A is for animals!). It took no time at all to put this game together.

Since we have lots of photos of Mr. Cool, Little Weirdo and Kitty Baby, I just found one picture of each of them. Then I printed two copies of each photo.

Depending on the ages of the kids playing, you may want to "laminate" the photos. I cheat-laminate by covering fronts and backs with packing tape; and I definitely needed to laminate these photos, because the players of the game were all three and younger!

To play: flip all the photos over so the pictures are hidden. Then, as in the classic game, Memory, just flip one photo at a time while trying to find its match.

You can add photos of other animals like lions, giraffes, fish, etc. Keep the game simple with only four or six photos or add a lot more to create a challenge for older kids.

Have a lovely day!



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Flour Me with Love

Mr. Cool's day...in video!!

I've been wanting to post a video for a long time.

Well, here we go! 

The neighbors are mowing outside.

And, we have a power drill making noise in the house. 

And, I would rather be at Mr. Cool's level than over his head.

And, the lighting is kind of dark.

I didn't want to really get into it, because the living room is kind of cluttered this morning. 

Also, this video really just helped me learn how to produce it and load it here.

Mr. Cool got so exhausted being a star and everything.

Have you posted video on your blog yet?

Do you have any tips for me?

Have a lovely day!








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Snoopy's Dog Blog

Baked chicken is so easy

I buy those three-pound bags of frozen chicken breasts. 

It's the best deal, isn't it? I think it is.

Anyway, here is my recipe for baked Panko chicken.

Baked Panko Chicken

Ingredients:
3 pounds of thawed boneless chicken breasts
1/2 stick butter, melted
1 cup Panko breadcrumbs
salt and pepper
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon garlic powder

Directions:
Preheat oven to 450 degrees.
Butter a 9 x 13 pan. 
Place chicken in the pan and drizzle butter over the top.
Mix the Panko and spices.
Sprinkle over the top of the chicken breasts.
Bake for about 30 minutes or until done.
  (Chicken is done at 165 degrees.)

Mr. Cool says baked chicken smells good to him!

Have a lovely day!

If you visited me

If you visited me, I would probably do something lame like serve chocolate kisses from a plastic ice cream dish. It's not fancy or showy, but really, would you complain?

If you popped in on me right now, you would notice that...

1. We have the air conditioning off, so it's a bit sticky.

2. School supplies are everywhere.

3. Little Weirdo is confined to the kitchen because of his pee-pee issues.

4. Mr. Cool is conked out on a pile of people blankets because he got so much fresh air this afternoon.

5. My pizza pans are still soaking from last night. 

6. One of my drummer boys is practicing. WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU.

7. We have a collection of miniature flash lights on our hutch. I don't know where they came from.

8. I have chicken "brining" aka thawing for supper tonight.

9. I baked yesterday and could offer you a blondie and/or a sugar cookie bar...with icing!

10.  My husband's project is on the coffee table. It involves poster board and sheet metal. I nod a lot but don't really understand what he's doing.

11. We have baby gates and no baby. We are nervous about Mr. Cool using stairs. Even though his back legs are better now, we block off risky areas.

12. Beagles love to bark. Sorry again about the noise.

I know a lot of bloggers lead you to believe they have it all together. I really doubt it. I have NEVER hit that magical day when motherhood, home decor, fashion, and cuisine meshed beautifully. Heck, most of the time I can't even master one of those. 

But that's OK.

We aren't perfect and don't care to be. It's more fun to be messy and noisy.

Whoever started these competitions about having the best (fill in the blank) or the most enviable (fill in the blank) or the cleanest...or prettiest...or most effective (fill in the blanks), well, that person is a great big meanie. 

The whole mindset of perfection has contributed to women distancing themselves from one another. It's a sad, sad shame. 

We need to get over it. Those big meanies can just go wash mini blinds all day.

What do you think?

Toy box for big kids

It all started with the Rubik's cube I found before the yard sale. I thought how fun it would be to keep it in the living room so people could pick it up and noodle around with it.

Then I thought of other things big kids (and grown ups) might like to play with. 

Here is what's in the box:

1. Three ball pit balls to juggle or play catch with. I allow ball throwing in the house and I'm proud of it.
2. The black bag behind the balls contains plastic cups to stack.
   
3. I'm hoping a rousing game of Mancala might break out soon.
   
4. Who doesn't like an Etch a Sketch?
5. Ball on a string. Catch it in the cup!
6. A wooden puzzle.
7. Silly Putty.
8. A yellow egg-shaped rattle for shaking a beat.
9. And, of course, a deck of cards.

Hey look! 

One of the kids wants to play!

Have a lovely day!
  




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Snoopy's Dog Blog
Frugally Sustainable 

You wouldn't be so trusting, either

Babs has really been through it. Unfortunately, her story is not unusual.

Before Mr. Cool and Little Weirdo were born, we had a yellow Labrador named Yeager. Yeager was the nemesis of many people and dolls. I was heartbroken when Yeager destroyed my childhood Raggedy Ann doll. The carnage was sickening.

Then there were others.

Yeager had a thing for doll hands. See what I mean:

No one was safe from Yeager's rampages.

Yeager bit right through the heart-shaped "I Love You" necklace on this sweetie:

 And then this:

Some of Yeager's victims are forgiving souls and continue to smile sweetly.

Babs, though, experienced a growing hatred of dogs. And the world. She started listening to music with inappropriate lyrics and took up spitting. 

I told the kids they couldn't hang around her anymore.

Babs told Mr. Cool he should be ashamed to be a dog:

So he became ashamed:

Just one more victim of Yeager's spree of violence.

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Found the Marbles

Pink and yellow

I don't know what it is lately about pink and yellow. I just love them so. 

When I made birthday cookies for a friend the other day, I had to go with my new favorite color scheme.

Mr. Cool seems to share the fondness. 

He was all over these fabric scraps.

 Now he's fancy:

I'm gonna live here when I grow up:

Have you been going through a color mood lately?

Happy Independence Day

"Happy Fourth of July!" says Mr. Cool.

The Little Weirdo wouldn't sit still for a posed photo.

I'm in the cuddle zone," he says. "It's a free country, you know."

Have a happy holiday!!

Cool kids still ruin my life

As I was experiencing a rare moment of housecleaning motivation, I grabbed the carpet shampoo from the laundry room shelf.

Imagine my surprise when I read this on the label:

"Safe For All Popular Machines." 

I never considered my steam cleaner cool or popular. He seemed average. Kept to himself, a solid B student. He always had to be carried up the stairs for chores, because he wasn't ambitious enough on his own.

I thought this was typical.

I asked him, "Honey, are you popular?" 

He mumbled something.

"I know you are hot and steamy," I said, "but are you popular?"

It became obvious to both of us. This was going to be a make-over day.

From seeing the kids around the neighborhood, I knew a thing or two about "popular."
So, I bought my baby a backpack and headphones. His hat and scarf were mismatched on purpose. I caved and handed over my car keys.

The journey had begun. 

Concert t-shirts were always fashionable when I was kid. 

We agreed on Rush (of course).

Look! Some interest from another kid.

Maybe this guy will tell his friends and my kid will become popular, I thought. 

We added bongos. 

It worked!

Yet, I wondered how much more effort was necessary. 

How popular does a steam cleaner need to be? Scholars and philosophers have been chasing the answer to that question for ages. I never gave it much thought, but this day my carpets were really dirty.

We pressed on.

The winter hat was replaced with a ball cap. A backwards ball cap. 

Dang.

Even I became intimidated by my steam cleaner's hipness. 

When asked about his feelings, he said, "talk to the cleaning bristles, woman." I think he also may have mentioned something about shizzles. 

Had I created a back-talking monster? I couldn't resist testing the matter:

"You can't make me wear this stupid hat. You never understood me. I HATE YOU!" screamed my steam cleaner. 

It was then that I realized...

Divas don't clean carpets.

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Adventures of a DIY Mom

Cooking with beagles

 

Do you see the potatoes on the cutting board? 

Do you see where I need to stand to cut those potatoes?

This is how it is every night. Mr. Cool positions himself to where I need to be. 

Then he becomes a wall.

This guy is no help:

Awww look at his paw tucked under himself all docile. 

Don't be fooled. The Little Weirdo can be on his feet before one potato piece hits the floor.

Cooking with these guys is challenging and kinda dangerous.

Have you ever seen porcupines in a playpen? 

It's like that. 

Tippy tricks

Pranksters are at it again.

Beagle tipping.

 
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Little Weirdo is happy

I keep up with Mr. Cool and Kitty Baby on this blog all the time.

I figure you must be wondering about the Little Weirdo. You might be thinking he went off to Montana or North Dakota in search of work in the oil industry or perhaps he got accepted on one of those cooking contest shows where they yell at each other for an hour straight.

Nah. He's still here. He's just happy. Very happy.

I'll tell you something. It's almost impossible to get a photo of such a happy guy. The pictures turn out like the one above.

Mr. Cool and Kitty Baby barely move. They would make perfect models for getting their portraits painted. Maybe I should call the college and see if they need any nudes to pose for art class. Mr. Cool and Kitty Baby aren't modest.

Anyway, the Little Weirdo is fine. Just happy.

Oh so happy.
 
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Snoopy's Dog Blog

Inside, outside, inside, outside

I had a feeling my days were overrun with dog duties, so I documented it.

Conclusion: Dogs rule my life.

Mr. Cool (pictured above, pre-wheelchair, at a local dog park) is so lazy he rarely makes trouble. He'd rather sleep than go outside. Or watch a movie. Or talk on the phone.

He goes outside three times a day but doesn't go by himself. We take strolls together.

Mr. Cool is leisurely. Go-with-the-flow. Slothful. 
 

The Little Weirdo standing still for once

The Little Weirdo, however, abounds with energy. The house is not able to absorb all his happiness. He must go outside or he'll explode.

Then he barks. 

He doesn't bark to come inside. He barks at squirrels. He barks at people. He barks at leaves. 

The Little Weirdo: "I love to bark."

The neighbors DON'T love him to bark.

So, I bring him inside.

According to my findings, I let him out six times in a day. When you figure he must come back inside as well, I go to the door 12 times a day in his honor.

Add Mr. Cool's trips, and you arrive at a tally of 15 times.

Is this correct? My dogs boss me around 15 times each day?

Kitty Baby: "That's why all dogs should be cats."

Rainy days and beagles

Don't those eyes make ya melt?

This photo of Mr. Cool is from about four years ago. Though he has become a mature, wise old sage, he still goes goofy during storms. 

I used to give him extra cuddles and baby talk to him during thunder storms. Our veterinarian told me this is exactly the wrong thing to do. By going out of my way to console Mr. Cool, he most certainly thinks the worst.

"She never pauses Doctor Who to lay on the floor and goop all over me," he probably thinks.

I was gently stroking Mr. Cool's face during a storm the other day while gazing deeply into his eyes and whispering slowly, "Woows a goowd bwoooy? Woows a goowd bwoooy?"

He immediately sat upright, composed himself and requested I go to the safe deposit box at the bank. He also instructed me to buy him a stack of pancakes soaked in bacon grease.

"But why?" I asked.

He said he needed to "make some changes" to his will (probably because of this and this) and that he didn't have much time. In addition, he said a stack would take too long. He probably had enough time left for *sniffle* only one pancake.

The vet was right. I had been conditioning Mr. Cool to think doom is upon him instead of just a little rain.

The next time I hear thunder, I shall resist all urges to swaddle him and give him a pacifier and baby bonnet. I will muster up some very tough love and bark at him:

"What's with you? Don't you know Doctor Who is on?"

It'll break my heart.