Every Memory Has A Place

I bet you thought all of my “saying goodbye to Perth” posts were done, huh? I promise this is the final one. Remember when my wonderful friends threw this lovely going away picnic? In addition the hugs, kind words, aussie animal mini-quilt, South Perth foreshore picture and globe of WA sand I also received this wearable memory keeper.

Coordinates Collection makes jewelry with the coordinates of a place particular of significance. Of course my necklace has the coordinates of Perth to reminder me of beach days, lunches with a view, girls weekends, secret selfies, sightseeing, sunny winters, sunnier summers, sailing the swan, hiking the hills, making new friends and enjoying such a magical place. Seeing that the move and various travels had us a bit discombobulated I had the necklace shipped to my parent’s house and I just now was able to see it. I love being able to carry all of these beautiful memories with me. Thanks again ladies for the precious gift.

Even the box is cute

Even the box is cute

My home's coordinates

My home’s coordinates

In case I forget where it was

In case I forget where it was

Lovely finishing touches

Lovely finishing touches

Excited to accessorize

Excited to accessorize

Remember the aussie animal mini quilt?

Remember the aussie animal mini quilt?

Enjoying the South Perth Foreshore and WA Sand in my new home in Vietnam

Enjoying the South Perth Foreshore and WA Sand in my new home in Vietnam


Rugs that cost more than my life

I’m assuming you have guessed my recent activity by the title of this entry – and yes, I went to an antique store.  Now this isn’t antiquing which I’m used to doing in Kirksville Missouri where I can grab some vintage glass soda bottles and a butter churn, this is straight up fancy schmancy $22,000 rugs and $8,000 chair (yup, that is singular).

Kind of like Fight Club where steamy Brad Pitt joins all of those support groups, I’ve joined a bunch of women’s organisations.  Except I’m not doing it for psychopathic reasons and we don’t secretly fight – although I could suggest it as an activity for the next monthly luncheon or morning tea. It basically keeps me involved and busy – and like we all know, if we’re not busy beyond our physical abilities to cope with the overwhelmingness then what do we have to live for?  One of the activities was to go to an antique shop in Freemantle.  I can’t lie, it was beautiful.  I did my very best to pretend like I had any business being around such expensive items I would ooh and ahhh at the exquisiteness while exclaiming “wow, that’s not too bad, what a fantastic armoire” while peering at the price tag and holding back vomit.  I did this while other women were exclaiming “why yes, this chair would go perfect with in my home back in the states”.  We also had dainty and wonderful snacks, teas, and pomegranate juice to dine on while the owners gave us a brief history of their business and finds.  Knowing my amazing graces I kept my glass of pomegranate juice far, far away from anything not red or purple.  I spied in the middle of the treat table a tasty looking sweet which I decided to partake of.  I took one bite and realised why no one had eaten them yet, it was covered in powdered sugar.  I looked down and saw my standard uniform of black leggings and a wrap (not because I actually think I look good in them – but because I could only pack so many suitcases and they took up less room) completely covered in a snowfall of powdered sugar.  Oh yeah, so was the ridiculously expensive Persian rug I was standing on … I hoped no one was looking as I tried to nonchalantly cover up the sugar blizzard with my foot but mostly made little shoe snow angels.  Thankfully the crowd broke and decided to continue looking at the loot.

More awkward moments …

A friend was buying a great Ottoman serving tray.  There were a group of us at the check out while the manager starting giving me the “yes I’m judging you” look.

Quietly he whispers “I have a store you would like” and begins to grab a business card to write the name.  Some of the ladies catch wind and ask what he’s talking about.

Ladies: “What is this? Is it a restaurant?”

Dude: Looks up at them, ignores questions, turns to me. “I really think you’d like it, it’s definitely up your alley”

Ladies: “sir, SIR, what are you telling her about?”

Dude: Looks at them again, slightly rolls eyes. “Nothing, just a women’s clothing store”

Apparently he is unaware that he said this to a group of, um, women.

Dude: Gives me the once over again and confirms “yes, you would definitely love this store, the manager is great, she and you could become good friends.

Ladies: Staring in disbelief of the man who refuses to give them any information of this clothing store

I have yet to go to the store, slightly afraid of what he was judging what my type of store and friends would be like …

Book Review: Dracula.  It’s a classic, I thought I’d give it a try.  I can appreciate that people like it, I was bored and will stick to my questionable young adult vampires.

Electric Youth

I used to think I was young, sometimes I still think I am.  Actually I didn’t quite think about it all too much until last year when I saw everyone I grew up with being congratulated on Facebook 700 times over for turning the big 3-0.  It solidifies the idea of ignorance being bliss – if I hadn’t seen everyone turn 30 (and now *gulp* 31)  then I must not be old, right?  I’m also cooler than I think, right? When I look around at all my self proclaimed “hip” activties, I have had a little hope that 30 is the new 21.  Looking back (at that last sentence) I recognize how lame it was that I even used the word “hip”.

What this brings me to is this:  I’ve been spending a little more time lately with a certain 13 year old girl … and let’s just say that it’s shattered any dream that I had of my aforementioned hopeful thoughts of youth … here are some key phrases uttered by said girl to land me in this cold reality

Did you download this song back when it was still cool?

Oh, is this song an “oldie” or whatever you call it?

Hmmm, those shoes, they’re more girly – like my age girly – probably not your age.

Um, not to upset you or anything … but you have a grey hair.

As I am readjusting my outlook here’s to being proud of my love for Neil Diamond, Hall & Oates, a good old fashioned musical, the joy of small kitchen appliance purchases, and getting excited about being able to go to sleep early on a Friday night.

Book Review: Matched.  Of course this book would be young adult fiction … but anyhoo – it’s a great read for anyone still reeling from Hunger Games withdrawls without feeling like you’re reading its reincarnation.  Gotta love spring time and young adult love triangles.

*note – I’ve gone back and hyperlinked all of my book reviews to Amazon.  Not that I get any sort of kick back from doing that (especially in regards to the books that I thought sucked) but I though it would save you from having to google the title later.  See – I am a nice person.

“Jarhead” or “Yes I Can-Can”

Somewhere deep down inside of me, if you look past the handbags, Apple obsession, and inability to produce a single surviving tomato from my Topsy Turvey, I am somewhat domestic.  I like to engage in the fine arts of home making.  I have made quilts, more scrapbook pages than people want to see, and home made confectionary treats that would’ve been much more easy to buy.


I love to go to the farmers market.  At the farmers market there are some wonderful ladies who sell pies – they are appropriately called the Pie Ladies.  I spied with my little eye a fantabulous looking strawberry rhubarb pie and I wanted it immediately.  After finding out the pie cost $17.50 I quickly huffed away thinking that surely IIIII could make such a pie myself and it would be wonderful!  In turn, $16.50 and 3 hours of my time later, I had a very humble strawberry rhubarb pie.

Ok, back on track … Canning Take 1!

I decided to expand my mad home-making skills and begin canning.   I enjoy doing things that apparently were prevelant during the days of the Oregon Trail (the real trail, not the computer game.  Although the computer game was pretty awesome, awesome that is until someone died from dyssentary).  The first thing about canning that I would like to point out is that you don’t put anything in a can – you put it in a jar.  So from here on out it has been renamed to jarring.I made a first attempt at jarring by making spaghetti sauce for friends – as a party favor for a blog-stalking party which I shall write about in prose at a later date.  I looked up a few things online, realized I had none of the materials to jar, but found a way to make it happen.  I made the yummy sauce (here’s the link if you’re curious ) and proceded to jar with a mixture of online direction and my gumption.  The goals of this was for the sauce to:

  1. look pretty
  2. taste good
  3. get somewhat close to fda approval

I proudly gave the gifts of pasta sauce with the disclaimer of: “umm, so i’m not sure that i jarred it right, so i recommend putting it in your fridge and eating it this week … ”

Canning Jarring Take 2!

As I went to hOmaha for labor day weekend I was quite excited to share with my mom my new love (of jarring). She kindly held back her grimmace as I explained to her my technique.  She indicated that it was a good idea that the sauce was gifted with the disclaimer.  I felt slightly disappointed until I realized my mother had all the real tools to jar!  We promplty decided on making a batch (or 7) or jalapeno jelly based on the bumper crop that was in my parents garden.

sidebar: i’m sure you’ve noticed by now that yes, i was very unsuccessful at growing tomatoes and canning jarring sauce – and my mother’s garden yielded a very large amount of jalapenos and is a master at jarring.  no, i am not adopted.

With the aid of my mother I was able to make eleventy billion jars of jelly which shall be gifted at Christmas – if i don’t eat all of it.  Or i can use the newly preserved presrves to barter with as i catch the trail out west.

i am ready to be sealed

aren't i cute and yummy if eaten within a few days