Not dead yet...

Just a little overwhelmed.  Please forgive my delinquency!

Here's our Chicago trip...

...and Purim!  (Check out the plethora of costumes that #5 insisted on wearing.)

Purim!

My Creative Space: It's official.

I'm officially in business, although I'm still in the (molasses-slow) process of setting up my Etsy shop.  I've ordered my business cards and registered with the State Department of Revenue.  I frittered away a ridiculous amount of time attempting to come up with a logo, but evidently my creative talents aren't quite that far-reaching.  (If anybody knows of a graphic artist who's willing to work for jewelry, send them my way, please...)

Meanwhile, Purim preparations are underway chez nous.  A tiny Snow White has my attention at the moment---as does my ever-steady sewing machine, which decided last night to buck tradition and fluke out on me.  Therefore, Shani's costume will have been sewn entirely without benefit of the presser foot.  Nothing like a little drama to liven things up, hey?

Bringing you up to speed...

It's been brought to my attention that I've devoted way too much blog time lately to my wire-wrangling, and not nearly enough to the amusing antics of my little brood.  Not that they've been up to much, really...just the usual assortment of madness, mayhem, and mirth.  The Huz has taken off for greener pastures---temporarily, at least---and les petits and I are forging our own collective way for the next 60 hours or so.  Wish us well.

Chevi has had a haircut of epic proportions.  It was a spur of the moment decision, and one that's smoothed out our morning routine immeasurably.  She can actually brush her own hair now, and without crying!

We're working on the finer points of etiquette with Madam Shani.  At almost-three, she's sufficiently articulate to tell her big sister to "SHUT UP!"   When reminded that we don't say shut up, she calmly addressed me.  "Mommy, please tell Chevi to shut her mouth."

Purim plans are underway, and the boys are trying on all of the existing costumes in order to drive me stark, raving mad  find just the right combination of knight, cowboy, clown and Jedi gear.

We're slogging around in the slushy dregs of our blizzard, as the temps have been in the 40's for the past few days.  The sun is shining, the snow is melting, and my golly, it's muddy out there...

On a more terrifying note, I have a blowtorch. 

Craft-Fail

One of the four big commandments of Purim thing is to give mishloach manot (or gifts of food) to friends. And since I have Significant Issues Which Have Yet to Be Adressed, it's important to me that our packages have a theme each year. Having recently moved to Iowa, it was necessary to take advantage of the whole "corn" thing. So I baked cupcakes, frosted them with yellow buttercream, and studded each one with many many little yellow, kernel-like candies. I sprinkled them with white sugar crystals (salt!) and topped the whole thing off with square of butter-yellow Laffy Taffy. After plunging a pair of corn-holders into either side of my creations, I stood back and admired my work. Now: to package them. Clever girl that I am, I had the kiddos put together our packaging weeks ago. I wanted something simple, recyclable and inexpensive, so I went with brown paper lunchbags. Classy, no? Adorned with a little ditty explaining our corny theme and gussied up with a curl of green ribbon, they'd do just swell, I figured.

Now would be a great time for me to confess that spatial perception has never been my strong suit.  I'm perenially bruised from misjudging the exact location of walls and corners, and have a devil of a time making it in and out of the garage with my side mirrors intact.  Needless to say, in spite of my assiduous preparation, the cupcakes did not so much fit into their designated bags.  Which left me to dream up new packaging an hour before delivery.  Suffice it to say that there was cling-wrap involved.  The horror!  There are a disturbing number of secrets in this world that the universe will never unlock for me.  Cling-wrap is among them.  It was not pretty.  There was a significant amount of packing tape brought in to compensate for my substandard cling-wrap skill-set.  And yet, the goods got delivered, poem and all.