It Was the Best of Toys, It Was the Worst of Toys

Now my husband’s been wondering lately why I suddenly post faded-out yesteryear-iPhone photos on my blog, while in actuality I have a very nice camera and the ability to use it.

The answer to this question is very complicated:

Because I can.

Here’s what’s been happening:

1. Yesterday marked my first foray into the making of homemade play-doh.

Now let be it known to you that I have never come in contact with proper store-bought play-doh in my entire life because a) I didn’t grow up in the first world and b) I am crunchy and have never bought it for my kids. What’s wrong with water and mud? (Just kidding).

For this reason, I wasn’t entirely positive what the consistency was supposed to be like, but the kids ended up really happy. I’d share the recipe with you, but I need to work on it first.

On the other hand, nothing is better at driving me absolutely bonkers than the dining room after said play-doh’s been played with.

2. This is (some of) my kitchen.

It is not modern or stylish (note the dirty-dish-rag decor – it’s in this season, didn’t ya know), but there is nothing on God’s green earth that I can’t make in there.

Because I am that kind of woman.

Plus, the kitchen is really not small, and after a couple of days of thorough organization of foodstuffs, cookware, and gadgets, it is a wonderfully comfortable kitchen to cook in.

Every once in a while my kitchen looks like this. Especially on Sunday nights.

Which brings me to my following point:

2. I hate Sundays.

Some people might have a hard time getting going on Mondays, but not me. To me, Monday is the new beginning when anything seems possible.

Sunday, on the other hand, is the day when I feel more like a domestic lunatic than goddess, full of the sound and the fury.

Let me explain – everyone’s day of rest = my day of chaos.

Sunday afternoon is also frequently marked by my husband saying “I am fleeing.”

Then doing just that.

In short, Sundays put me on edge like nothing else.

It is at times like this that I like to remind myself that we could be in the middle of a militarized ethnic conflict, incited by a corrupt government with the goal of drawing attention away from their country’s economic struggle – the kind of government that regularly sends teenagers to die on the front lines of these conflicts as a means of distraction in real-life Hunger Games.

These things happen.

I remember!

Yes, life could positively be worse.

It is the experiences like these that make me a cheerful person now that I am leading a safe and hunger-free life in America.

It’s all the matter of perspective.

1. I love getting bags of second-hand clothes.

They are like Christmas! Like, totally. (Having fresh clothes to wear after a round of laundry feels like Christmas, too).

This Green Bay Packers jacket just came in one such bag.

Now, we are not really football fans.

We don’t even have a TV!

The reason I am telling you all this is to introduce the fact that my three-year-old, innocent of the world of football, explained “the Packer jacket” term in the following way:

“Can you really pack things in this packer jacket? Daddy can pack firewood in this jacket. This is why it’s called “the packer” jacket.”

Only in Viroqua.

4. My son and I like to make cookies.

These cookies are amazing, so I highly encourage you to give them a try – I adapted them from Cook’s Country magazine.

This is what the cookies look like when mommy makes them.

This is what the cookies look like when Cyrus makes them.

Free spirit he is, that boy.