May 31, 2013

Humor Me Friday.

And it's finally Friday again.
Well... I have no excuses...
I think they've been stalking my father....
Oh grumpy're adorable either way.
Exactly; I feel this to be quite self-explanatory.
This is adorable.

May 30, 2013

TidBit Thursday and Drizzle.

Oh my my my.... The price we pay for two weeks of sunshine here in Abbotsford is more or less two months of dark dreary skies and a whole lot of drizzle. So very much drizzle! Are you finally getting summer where you are?


May 29, 2013

Why I Will Never Petsit.

I recently guest-posted for Katie over at Nested for her "And That's When I Realized..." series and she has graciously allowed me to repost my post here. But please go check her and her awesome blog out and read my post over there. It tastes better there. (That makes perfect sense in my head.) So without further ado, here's my contribution: And that's when I realized I will never be a veterinarian. 

It is a truth universally acknowledged that every young girl of five wants to be a princess. * It is also a truth, albeit less universally acknowledged, that Miss Larissa of 351 Wilson Road on the outskirts of itsy bitsy Terrell, Texas most certainly did not. Miss Larissa wanted to be a “vetermenaran.” “Vetermenarans” always had animals around them, you see; animals meaning dogs, naturally; puppies, to be more precise. And who could possibly not want to work with adorable baby dogs?

So she began to practice her care for puppies with her fish. Miss Larissa’s family traveled too often to have a “real” pet; a “real” pet meaning a puppy, naturally. The fish was a gorgeous blue Betta fish with a flowing cerulean blue tail that reminded her of a stallion’s mane. His name was “Blue” and he was found upside down in his bowl a month later.

As I (yes I’m shifting from third person to first) grew older I realized veterinarians worked with a lot more animals than puppies. In fact, many of the puppies that veterinarians do work with are not always so incredibly cute. Veterinarians saw blood; saw death and birth, and the wounded and the cured. At eight I was confident I wouldn’t mind the blood. I was helping father mow our ten acres of Texan prairie one afternoon and the tractor ran over a rat’s nest. My best friend and I ran into the house for gloves, grabbed two sticks and investigated the remains, pushing aside guts and pieces. See? I could handle blood.   

At eight, I had another Betta fish. He was also blue, but so deeply blue his tail faded into a midnight purple hue. I was careful with him. He was mine and to be well cared for. I fed him well but not too much because fish are silly and will eat until they explode. One afternoon I came back from a full day of adventure catching large grasshoppers that ate mother’s garden to find my poor fishy out of his bowl. His breathing was shallow and slowing down. So, of course, I ran away. I ran to the living room to fetch father. He ran into my room, scooped up the poor animal and slipped him back into his bowl. He was belly up by evening, the victim of a mischievous three-year old little brother who “just wanted to play.”

My best friends had a pond at their house and surrounding it were various ducks and geese that they would keep as pets until they flew away for the winter. I wanted ducks too, but we had no pond. So I got chickens. Rather, I was supposed to get chickens. The young clerk at Tractor Supply Co assured us he was an expert at figuring out which chicks were hens and which were roosters. We bought one rooster and four hens. We got two roosters and three hens. Father built two separate coops and went off to buy more chickens. I loved my chickens; they were my responsibility. I fed them; I cleaned their coops; I let them out of their coop and fetched their eggs. And I hated roosters. They strutted around like they owned the place and pecked if I wanted to cuddle with the chickens. So I never touched them, chickens or roosters. Pecks hurt.

One rooster fell victim to the two dogs down the street. Daddy retrieved the poor wounded and de-feathered bird. He threw lemon juice on the wounds and soon the rooster was pecking, crowing and strutting like the dimwit fellow he always was. Short months later the Texan winter came and the coyotes became desperate. Father woke up early one morning and found the extreme silence uncommon. Why were the chickens so quiet? The coyotes had come. They dug under the underground fence father had installed and all of my chickens were gone. The dusting of snow was smeared with blood and feathers. They were all gone. All but one. My favorite. Rebecca. The poor creature was found shivering and wounded on the neighbor’s vacant lot next door. Father cleaned up the mess before I awoke and wrapped Rebecca and tended her wounds. He fixed up the coop and put her in her hen house. But the next morning, Rebecca too was gone.

For a while I gave up on pets and only dared to pet the horses that roamed on almost all sides of our property. Excluding, of course, Bunny the jackrabbit my also preteen friend caught one night. We took turns caring for it and feeding it with an eyedropper every week. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t last long.

Then Lola appeared. Lola was an energetic Border Collie puppy. Father found her abandoned on the neighbor’s vacant lot. She was fat with shaggy black and white fur and peed every time she got excited, which was nearly every second. But before I was able to get too attached, father was transferred and we had to move. I left Lola with my friends with the dogs, cats, ducks and geese of their own. They were smitten with Lola. A couple of months later I found out the vet had ordered her to be put down; she had been ill.

We moved to the city and by that time I was at the ripe old age of ten. Our apartment didn’t allow for dogs or cats, but I was determined I would have my pet. So I had two fish. I followed the directions on the aquarium meticulously convinced they would live this time. I even bought aquarium décor. Both fish were dead in two days.

I then had a hamster that I bought at a flea market and had red eyes. Its name was “Baby” and I’m almost certain it was actually a mouse. It would snap at my fingers if I tried to hold it; it refused to stay still in my hands and would scamper anywhere to get away. It escaped out of its cage on several occasions, and, oftentimes, my mother would be scared to the bone when she got up at night because there was a rodent underneath her bed. A rodent with red eyes. On one of these nights that Baby escaped, he got into some sort of trouble because when father got up in the morning he found Baby dead. I awoke to father coming back from burying my poor…hamster?

I then had a parakeet that hated people, and one day as a friend stuck her hand in its cage to pester it, the bird flew out her cage and out the window. Tweety never came back. And that’s when I realized I could never be a veterinarian, and that I will never petsit. Ever. I also haven’t had a pet since. I feel it would be cruelty.

*Insert political correctness here that this is a very wide generalization and in the words of Mark Twain, “Every generalization is false. Including this one.”

May 26, 2013

Pink and Stitching Thread.

Recently I've been messing with cross-stitching thread, braiding it, weaving it.. and yes.. cross-stitching it–mostly threading it. Recently I found this piece that my aunt had begun years ago... She never finished it and then handed it over to my mother for her to finish. It has been around six years and mother hasn't really touched it...So today I decided I'd take a try. I didn't get much done... but this is what I wore this Sunday.
Hair Clip (Flower) - Forever21
Pink cardigan - Gap
Denim skirt - Brazil 
Shoes - Brazil 

May 24, 2013

Humor Me Friday.

Don't forget to pass by and link up!
Welcome to another installment of Humor Me Friday. 

I apologize in advance if this is disrespectful. I've been fascinated with the royals since forever and have read some of Princess Di's biographies. Love her! But this is just hilarious and makes me want to buy one of these plates from the thrift stores around here that have tens and tens of them.
Oh I miss my childhood and watching this over and over.
He's just too cute.
Well... okay then! Where are my running shoes?
Last but not least: 
all images found on

May 22, 2013

TidBit Thursday and Growing Pains.

Yesterday was my first day at work. They were hiring folks on the spot next week and I began yesterday. It was a pleasant experience and I'm glad to be doing what I'm doing. :) Today, however, is special because of a certain May baby. The baby of the house turns 12 and tonight the house will be filled with boys who will help us celebrate the Kid's last birthday as a preteen. I know it's his birthday and I don't want to make it about me (but I'm about to do so anyways), yet I feel a mixture of sadness and so much joy. My little child is becoming a man. And next year he becomes a teenager! Worse than that, the same year he enters adolescence, I leave it. Forever. I'll be 20 next year. I can't really believe it though. It doesn't sink in. How do I go about growing up? I'm really not sure. Can't I just stay here in my room and be 15 for the next couple of years while I figure it out? 20? What does one do when one is 20? Pretty sure you're supposed to have at least that figured out. Oh wells, today's about the Kid who has all his life yet to live. Do you remember your 12th birthday?


May 20, 2013

Which Comes First?

I was going to write about this, but then realized everything else would be superfluous. That sentence pretty much sums it up. In order to fully forget and let go, one must forgive. But you don't have to forget to forgive...

May 19, 2013

Mustard and Interviews.

      Thursday I posted that I was off to an interview and a couple of you were interested in knowing what for and how it turned out.. well.. I'm ready to tell. The interview is for being a household assistant. Basically I will go to the home of the elderly and clean whatever they need me to clean in their house, get their tea ready and so on. In case you don't know one of the reasons as to why I want this job, you might want to read this post. *wink* *wink* I have spoken to the supervisor and she said that as long as I have the client's consent and don't use their real names I'm allowed to share their stories. Now let's just hope they're willing to share. :)

This is what I wore to the interview:
P.S. My hair is still wet because I washed it this morning, not greasy. Promise. Speaking of hair.. it's getting so long! I'm so excited! I've never grown out my hair this long, but I like it. 
Mustard Cardigan - Thrifted
White Top - Ardene
Navy Lace Skirt - Suzy Shier (Might recognize it from this post)
Mustard Flats - Arturo Chiang
Our yard is full of these yellow little wildflowers.. I'm trying to convince Daddy that they're pretty. So far I've only managed to put off weeding... Oh wells. Happy Sunday!

May 18, 2013


     One time when I was around four or five, my mom invited my uncle to have dinner with us in our home. While we were eating, I noticed that my uncle only helped himself to one of the foods that my mother had prepared for the meal. Cheeky kid that I was, I told him "¡Tio, todo lo que esta en la mesa alimenta!" (i.e. "Everything on the table is good for you.") I've lost track of how many times that story has been retold. My grandfather repeats the phrase to me every time I see him in teasing. Those words have followed me ever since then.

One of the things that we often take for granted is the impact of our words and actions. I was just a little kid but look how these words have become associated with me. As older people, we often speak and act with a carefree demeanor, not thinking twice about whether what we say is the appropriate thing to say or do, or what the impact of our words and actions will be. A kind word to a stranger, a mean word to a family member–our words can have far reaching effects that can last a lifetime.

There are many proverbs that expound on the importance of being careful with speech. Some examples:
-"Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt." – Mark Twain
-"Keep your words soft and tender because tomorrow you may have to eat them."  ~Author Unknown
It is no secret that wise men have pondered about the impact of words. The Bible also warns about the impact of foolish speech. There are many gems from the actual book of Proverbs:

“Put away from you crooked speech, and put devious talk far from you.” (Proverbs 4:24, ESV).
“The wise of heart will receive commandments, but a babbling fool will come to ruin.” (Proverbs 10:8, ESV).
“The one who conceals hatred has lying lips, and whoever utters slander is a fool. When words are many, transgression is not lacking, but whoever restrains his lips is prudent. The tongue of the righteous is choice silver; the heart of the wicked is of little worth. The lips of the righteous feed many, but fools die for lack of sense.” (Proverbs 10:18-21, ESV).
Where do our words come from? The Word of God shares some insight on this too:
"But those things which proceed out of the mouth come forth from the heart; and they defile the man." -Matthew 15:18.
     The root of our words and actions are from the things that we keep in the heart. As a Christian, I know that if Jesus is the source of love, and if He abides in my heart, my words and actions will reflect that. I think that we should be very watchful of the things we do and say. As representatives of Jesus Christ, we can influence people to want to know the Lord more or know Him less.

     When Jesus walked with sinners He taught them with love. He is our example. Think of the woman that was brought before him to be executed for prostitution. He didn't condemn her the same way those who brought her before Him did. Jesus forgave and told her to "go and sin no more." I bet those words made an impact on that woman. They were words of hope.

      One verse I recently re-discovered was Micah 6:8. "He has shown you, O man, what is good; And what does the Lord require of you. But to do justly, To love mercy, And to walk humbly with your God?" This is the direction from God for our actions and our speech. If we do justly, we will not want to sin against God and our fellow man.

      I saw the following reflection while thinking of a topic to write. I think it gets it right. When in the process of speaking, use the THINK method. I think the application goes beyond what we say and directly into what we do.
So before we speak or act, let's THINK!
T, is it true?
H, is it helpful?
I, is it inspiring?
N, is it necessary?
K, is it kind?

This devotional is a guest post written by Netty Nina. Netty is an energy efficiency engineer saving the world one watt at a time. She recently came back from a 45-day media fast challenge undertaken by a group of young people from her church. She enjoys food of the vegetarian persuasion, Jane Austen, portrait photography, and anything artsy, among other things.

May 16, 2013

TidBit Thursday.

Leaving for a job interview. Wish me luck. :)


May 15, 2013

If I Had...

This post is a continuation of my comment on Jewel's post today on Frazzled & Frumpy: Click Here.

If I had one-hundred million dollars I would own a cheetah and call it baby. I would be "Bringing Up Baby."

And if I had one-hundred million dollars I would buy a bunch of Abercrombie & Fitch clothes and donate it to everyone in Vancouver's Downtown Eastside. 

If  I had one-hundred million dollars I would never go to a job interview again, and I would never have to write résumés or cover letters, or bite my nails and have mini heart attacks every time my e-mail received something or the phone rang. 

If I had one-hundred million dollars I would take every class that I wanted to take in school even if they had nothing to do with my major.

And if I had one-hundred million dollars I would buy someone's textbooks and pay their tuition because education is so very expensive.

If I had one-hundred million dollars I would pay for braces and contacts. I would get a pretty little car that would get me from point A to point B.

If I had one-hundred million dollars I would buy books and books and books and more books. And I would publish every book I liked even if publishers thought they shouldn't be published. I would because I would have one-hundred million dollars.

If I had one-hundred million dollars I would visit my grandparents at least twice a month and would bring my cousins here for their summer vacation.

If I had one-hundred million dollars I would sit in coffee shops and observe everyone who came in. I would write about whatever took my fancy without worrying about homework, or work, or chores.

If I had one-hundred million dollars I would read and read and read.

If I had one-hundred million dollars I would be rich in green paper. But I have so much that cannot be bought with green paper. In fact, I am quite certain that if I stopped to count, I would have at least one-hundred million things that cannot be bought with green paper. But I can't take that much time now because I have things to do and places to be. And that, that right there can be number one of the things money can't buy–the feeling of genuinely being needed and expected.

What would you do if you had one-hundred million dollars?

May 13, 2013

Mother's Day, Ceramics and Sharpies.

Mother's Day at our house was spent with a big breakfast and an even bigger lunch. After we had a family breakfast, I had invited some girls from school to come over for lunch. They are from Brazil and couldn't spend Mother's Day with their own mothers so we invited them to spend it here with us. It was lovely to have them over and we enjoyed the company. Mother and I made so much food, and it was gone in a blink of an eye. It was wonderful. 

Now for mother's gift. My mother is a stay at home mother who homeschools the kid. What I'm trying to say is it's pretty complicated to hide a gift from her especially if you want to make the gift yourself. I did. Some time ago I had seen this DIY on Pinterest. The one where you personalize a ceramic mug with a Sharpie. So I looked it up and apparently you can do that!

So I bought a ceramic plate and mug set and Sharpies. Then with a pencil I wrote what I wanted to write, (Mother had said she wanted a poem for Mother's Day, so I wrote her a haiku on the plate corners) and drew her tulips. Then I baked both plate and mug in the oven for 30 min. at 350º. Boom. It worked! As long as you don't use the rough part of your sponge or scrubber thingy for dishes.. it stays. Wash and dry and it stays! :)

Mother loved it and asked if I had had someone write it, and it was nice to say I did it myself. :) I think for the first time we were able to get her a gift without her realizing something was up. May 2013 has had a good start... now for the Kid's birthday in a couple of weeks! 

What did you do for Mother's Day?

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