Seven Things I LOVE

Here Are The Rules:
1. Link Back to the person who gave you the award.
2. List 7 Things you LOVE!
3. Link to 7 Blogs and let them know you have an Award Waiting for them on your blog!


About 300 hundred years ago, Emily over at barefootintherain tagged me to write about 7 things that I LOVE (not just love but LOVE).  Emily is an amazing mother to her beautiful children ( I SO envy her mad mom skillz).  She has so much energy, which I also envy, and her crafting skillz are extraordinary. (I mean, I know many excellent crafters, but she kind of takes the cake. She took one knitting class for like 30 minutes and went home and knit her daughter the cutest pair of pants ever. I went to a knitting class and, well, I still have the same straggly row on my knitting needles from last winter.)

If you haven’t looked at Emily’s blog you should, because she posts awesome stuff like recipes for healthy alternatives to everyday not-so-healthy food items as well as for green personal care/cleaning products. Plus, her hubby is a firefighter so he pretty much saves the world everyday and how cool is that?

So, the problem is that I have been thinking about this and also wanting to do it but have decided to break it down into chunks. Most likely seven of them. Because, you know, that’s how many the topic is about. And that is convenient and also it is easy to remember and anything that is easy to remember is pretty much the only thing that I am GOING to remember.


Seven Things I LOVE, Part I:

 1) Family: I love my family,  my own little one, my immediate one and my extended one.  I think that my extended family is exceptionally close and we all stay in close touch. Whenever we meet (which is not often given how scattered across the continent we are), we pick up where we left off.  I would have absolutely no hesitation in asking any of them for help or in offering them help if they asked me. I think that I am pretty lucky in this regard.

There are scads of people in my family and we would fill an entire conference hall or at least a hotel ball room or at any rate an entire ice cream shop were we to all be in the same place at the same time.  That occurence is sadly infrequent (see above: scattered across the continent) but at the same time have people scattered hither and yon is also rather convenient in that if you want to take a trip somewhere, chances are you’ll know someone who lives there and can cadge cheap as in free lodging.

I feel very fortunate on both sides of my extended family.  I have greater contact with my mom’s side since I fell out of touch with my dad’s side after he divorced us (which is, really, how divorce work. it’s not just the mom and dad, is it? it’s the whole family.  but anyhoodle.) but I do feel I could depend on any of my family at any time.

And that’s a real gift. And one that I cherish.

Stay tuned for Part II


Sunday Hymn Sing

My Life Flows On*


My life goes on in endless song
above earth’s lamentations,
I hear the real, though far-off hymn
that hails a new creation.

Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear it’s music ringing,
It sounds an echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing?

While though the tempest loudly roars,
I hear the truth, it liveth.
And though the darkness ’round me close,
songs in the night it giveth.

No storm can shake my inmost calm,
while to that rock I’m clinging.
Since love is lord of heaven and earth
how can I keep from singing?

When tyrants tremble in their fear
and hear their death knell ringing,
when friends rejoice both far and near
how can I keep from singing?

In prison cell and dungeon vile
our thoughts to them are winging,
when friends by shame are undefiled
how can I keep from singing?

*this is the version sung by the choir this morning. The traditional verses to this beautiful hymn can be seen here.

What Has She Gots in Her Pocketses?

Recently, Melanie over at BeanPaste wrote this delightful little post about the contents of her pockets after a walk with her enchanting children.

Inspired, Mrs Fussy Crankypants also decided to turn out the contents of her pockets to steal go along with Melanie’s winsome idea.

Sadly, the contents of Mrs Fussy Crankypants’s pockets were not nearly so charming:


What she had in her pocketses

What she had in her pocketses


Cat collar, one, in shocking shape, recovered from the iris bed (but, wait!  Doesn’t iris bed sound charming?)

Cell phone, one, set to vibrate at all times so as not to wake the TT on the off-chance that he might actually be sleeping.

Hair elastic, one, slightly worn, purpose, obvious

Spoon, TT size, one, rescued from the living room floor

Starbuck’s truffle wrapper, one, evidence to be hidden far, far away

Package Bachelor’s Button’s, one, just as hope springs eternal, Mrs FC is STILL starting seeds.

Wordless Wednesday

Caped Crusader

Caped Crusader

Why I hate the environment

When 2 degrees difference in temperature inside makes all the difference between peace and a Mommy Meltdown:


Air Conditioning, 1 : Mother Earth, 0

How DID they do it?

Temps in the low 90s and a heat index in the upper 90s today coupled with an intense irritation and/or sense of personal affront at high humidity levels are in an inverse ratio to Mrs Fussy Crankypants’s levels of sweetness, tolerance and general humankindness.

Mrs Fussy Crankypants knows she is a BIG WUSS when it comes to The Hot.  She can give birth to a baby without pain medication, she can walk across gravel in her bare feet, extreme levels of toddler clutter do not normally bother her yet heat and/or it’s evil twin humidity turn Mrs Fussy Crankypants into something that starts with a “b” and sounds like “itch”.

Mrs Fussy Crankypants often considers our Forebearers, those fearless folk who lived in such places as Texas, Nebraska, Texas, Louisiana and Texas all without air conditioning.  They did not worry or fret about pumping fiery hot air from their house into the atmosphere. They had no concerns about at what degree exactly they could set their thermostat and not feel TOO guilty about depleting the ozone while not walking around like a grumpy, sweating bear.  They were not slaves to seeking out climate-controlled environments when The Hot got hotter because they HAD no air conditioning, they had no climate control, they had no thermostats.

They had trees.  And also, maybe they had streams.  But they also had long skirts, corsets, ultra-conservative LDS-style underwear and Lord love you how in the world did they walk around not constantly completely soaked in sweat?  Perhaps, in fact, they did.

(p.s. they had no deodorant either. And no evening shower)

Above all, as Mrs Fussy Crankypants considers our Hardy Ancestors, and pays homage to their sheer grit and ability to endure tempertures that cause Mrs Fussy Crankypants to turn into a glistening wet limp noodle that hisses in irritability (and Mrs FC is pretty sure that that is an image you have never imagined before. You’re welcome), above all, she wonders how in the world they survived their long skirts, corsets, high collars, lack of air conditioning, no deodorant, piquant odors and, oh did we mention having to CAN all the veggies during August and also make the soap and cook over an open fire and/or wood stove, without this most quintessential and highly essential summer remedy to The Sweaty Hot:







Mrs FC salutes all Those Who Came Before with an ice cold iced coffee.  You were better women than she.





In Resolution Whereof

Mrs Fussy Crankypants hereby declares the intention to no longer eat 18 bazillion cups of homemade  granola aka “crack cocaine” per hour day and thereby reduce the distinct new belly bulge of which Mrs FC is the dubiously proud owner. 

Hereafter, be it know that “crack cocaine” will therefore now be consumed in manner and fashion befitting said limitations including but not limited to 1 yogurt/”crack cocaine” granola snack and/or “crack cocaine” granola ice cream topping per day (in recognition of which Mrs FC will hereupon buy adequate ice cream supplies to make up for the lack of crack cocaine granola).

Mrs Fussy Crankypants respectfully submits said declaration to all and sundry ad hominum i pluribus unim persona non grata carpe diem with liberty and justice for all amen.

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