Melting Crayons

This is a project I have been harboring for a while.  My perfectionism reached a new level a few months ago when I could hardly look at the craft box.  It was overflowing with disgusting tiny broken crayons.  I crave a perfect crayon when I color and trying to tape a broken crayon never works.  It NEVER works!  

So, today was a cold, icy day and this was the perfect day to make a whole new crayon.

Step 1: We removed the paper from the crayons and sorted them into a new bowl.

Step 2: I then cut all the crayons into small 1/2 inch pieces.

Step 3: I let the kids mix the colors and place them into foil muffin liners.

p.s. My research showed that you should not put the crayons directly in the tin because the melted crayons are difficult to remove without scratching up your cookware.

Step 4: Place the muffin tin in a 250 degree oven for 15 minutes and cool for an hour.

The excitement of coloring with these things lasted about 5 minutes with the kids, and I hated coloring with them.  To tell you the truth the tops of the melted crayons all mixed and turned a grayish color, but the bottoms were cool looking.  The kids were so proud of their creation and that made the whole thing worth it!

The Quest for Almond Butter

I get asked a lot of questions over here at Office to Aprons, and I have to say the most frequently asked question is:

Is your quest for Almond Butter over?

Well folks, what a good question,  and you are all too right to be concerned with such a hard pressed and topical issue concerning today's society.

The short answer is...uh...I don't know, I guess so.

You see the Christmas season brings me back to two years ago when the door bell rang.  I went to the door and found a plain box just days before Christmas day.  When I opened that sweet little box I discovered that someone reading this here blog went out of their way and sent me Almond Butter.  Two jars no less.  I thought about crying, but I've got standards.

I think they must have read this post and then this one.

Anyway if you must know, when I was in NYC earlier this year I took a $20 cab ride just to go to Trader Joe's to buy $6 Almond Butter.  Only my best friends, who were with me, would allow me to do that.  

A mere year ago here in North Texas the almond butter I prefer (you have to stir up, and it has little bits of almonds in it) cost $13 a jar at my local specialty grocer, and it was a 20 minute drive to get there.  I lived in that world for a long time.  Saving up to buy a jar every few months.  Then I saw it at Target and I knew whoever buys for Target read my blog and they were listening.  Really listening!  Until I saw it was smooth almond butter.  Target doesn't know me at all.  Smooth almond butter tastes like peanut butter.  Don't they know that?  Ick.  Then my local grocery store had it.  Same problem.

THEN (and this is where it gets good) I saw a recipe for it!  A recipe!  I cook!  So, I made some.  What the what?  It was Sea Salt Almond Butter...and it was disgusting.  It was too thick and let me say this, I am over "salted" everything.  I will save that one for another post.  See look at the picture below.  Looks good doesn't it?  Well, it's not.  Gross.

After that I figured the quest was over.  I had done it all.  Then I suddenly hear the whispers of a Trader Joe's coming to town and by golly since I haven't blogged in a full year it finally came and opened.  It is here and because there have been lines around the block to get it in I haven't gone, but the lines are dying down and the Almond Butter quest will soon be finished.

Aren't you glad you asked?

Happy Birthday Baby!

A momentous occasion passed the other day and you may not have even realized it.  My baby turned 1 year old.  It was an overwhelming day and for me it was filled with a range of emotions.  I began to dread the toddler years, but celebrate the end of a rocky year with a less than settled baby and about hundred other things that I realized I already missed about a baby.   Up and down, highs and lows.  Geesh!

However, this one year mark has marked a series of lasts for me.  For me, only God knows, if this is my last baby and so I have already begun my list of lasts.  Repeat that again, my "List of Lasts".

3 times fast:

List of Lasts

Lists of Lasts

Liss o Lass

Did anyone happen to watch the MTV show "Autobiography" with Ashlee Simpson?  Perhaps I am the only one, but I will go ahead and sum it up for you.  It was a 30 minute show every week where Ashlee Simpson became a rock star.  She had never done a dang thing before in her life, so it was a monotonous list (no, not List of Lasts) of things she had never done before.  

Ashlee Simpson:

Oh my gosh this is my first time performing on a stage.

Oh my gosh this is the first time I have ever sang this song on a stage in front of my sister.

Oh my gosh this is the first time I have ever filmed my own music video.

Oh my gosh this is the first time I have ever recorded a song.

Oh my gosh this is the first time my sister made me famous.

Oh my gosh this is the first time my Dad has tried to make me a rockstar.

Very entertaining.

Anyhow, so as my sweet baby turns one I have already begun my very own Ashlee Simpson show.

Oh my gosh this may be the last 1st Birthday party I throw.

Oh my gosh this may be the last, first time I feed him cake.

Oh my gosh this may the last time he will fit into this outfit.  This kid is a giant!

It is a sad sad world.

So, now that I have depressed myself I am off to drown myself into the heap of leftover cookies and milk, and add to my List of Lasts.

Happy Birthday Baby!

The Cook vs. The Baker

My entire life I've been told that you are either a cook or a baker.  

I have to be a baker.  I can eat a cookie, a cake...a pie...a brownie any time of the day, any day of the week.  I have to be-I love to bake it and I LOVE to eat it.  There have been times in my house that I have made an entire batch of cookies and have eaten every last bit of cookie within a day.  Look it's happened. 

If you have had the pleasure to stroll upon one of my desserts, like the one below, you may question my decision on being a baker and not a cook.  You may actually want me to be a cook just so you don't have to eat such an ugly pie.  I understand.

As much as I wish to be a cook.  It will never happen.  I have a disorder...a following directions disorder.  I HAVE to follow directions.  I cannot stray.  I cannot waiver.  What is written must be done. 

I made a Tomato Crouton dish the other night and it said to dice the tomatoes in 1/2" dices.  It took me so freaking long to dice those tomatoes it wasn't even worth it.  I almost took the ruler from the drawer just to ensure they were exactly 1/2".  As I was walking towards the drawer I realized how crazy that is.  Cooks don't get a ruler!  That's just embarrassing.  

So, I made the Tomato Crouton dish which turned out not to be so great.  

Was it the fact that the tomatoes were not measured perfectly to a 1/2 inch dice?  We may never know, but probably.

So, I went straight away to baking.  I had to.  I needed a safe haven where following directions is not a disorder, but a service to your stomach.  As my finger glided seamlessly across my measuring cup to get an exact cup of sugar I felt right at home.

I am a baker by default.  I have problems.

Friday

For all you Gleeks, this song is equivalent to "My Headband".

Out.

The Nursery

I can only say that the amount of complaints I received regarding the baby's nursery have been numerous.  Not many people have been able to come and see it, but everyone seems to know the story behind it getting done.  I didn't spare one soul when it came to complaining about the arduous task of putting this thing together.

When I got pregnant the first time I just knew I was meant to be a boy Mom.  Well as usual, my instincts failed me.  I soon became and fell in love with being a girl Mom.  I love all things girl!  When I got pregnant again I saw no vision past pink.  So, I was a bit surprised when we found out we were having a boy.  I was completely prepped on my new bunny nursery.  I basically just need to click "purchase" on all my websites.  The deal was done.

So, redrawing a boy nursery flustered me.  I only had 6 months to design, create, purchase, paint, and place PEOPLE!

It started out with a Moon and Stars theme.  Oh wait Pottery Barn Kids, where in the heck did all of the Moon and Stars stuff go that I saw a mere 2 months ago?  Are you playing with me?...and so they weren't.

Then I said forget you Moon and Stars and I decided to go all modern.  Hey wait...going all modern is expensive when nothing you own is modern and you have to buy new things.

So, to keep a long story short I kept a lot of things I already had from the beginning and I plowed forward.

***

When it was complete, I then decided to post it for the entire world to see.  The real world is harsh folks.  Within in seconds of posting the nursery my sweet little nursery became a 2.5 out of 5 stars nursery.  Did I offend your mothers of something people?  Don't kick me while I'm down.

The hurt and pain followed.

To make myself feel better I aimed to vote for myself and give myself a very unrealistic 5 stars.

Well...it turns out my fingers are more trustworthy than my foolish little brain and I accidently hit 3 stars!  At least I tried.

I get it!  I am no five stars.  I can't even give MYSELF five stars.

Luckily in the meantime some gentle person voted me into a 3.5 star nursery.  Bless your precious heart you sweet stranger.

Here it is friends:

The Baby Boy Retreat

A Valentine's Dud

Not so long ago, my Mom came to the conclusion that I may not move back into her house.  Just 6 years into marriage with two kids and after 12 years of dating my husband she figured that the possibility of me sleeping in my childhood bed was becoming dim.  So, she made me come get my things.  She was ready to make my room into the "Green" room.  You see my Mom colorizes rooms.  There is the pink room, and the blue bathroom, and the gray bathroom...oh I could go on, but I won't.  There are more important things to discuss.

Anyhow, I began the treacherous journey to clean out my old room.  I've become so tidy in my older years.  I keep hardly anything and try to live without an ounce of clutter.  Oh but not so in my youth.  I kept everything!  Every note ever written is in my possession, along with every Valentine.

...and so I came across these

It started off nice an easy with a Hulkamania "BE MINE!".  Whoa!

Then I saw a sweet little Mario Brothers Valentine.  I began thinking to myself as I quietly read through them all.

"Oh I remember the Mario Brothers.  How cute!  Oh and remember when they made a real TV show with Mario and Luigi where they were real people?  That was scary.  'My Heart Burns for You, Valentine'-so sweet...WAIT, 'not'?  What the heck is this?  Who sent me this?  Jerk."

Then I found this one.  I wasn't impressed at first, just a little dinosaur.

Then I flip over the innocent dinosaur Valentine and find this!

"What is my problem?  What is with you people and your anonymous Valentine's!  Happy Valentine's to you too buddy!"

I then come across the real stunner.  I even remember receiving this one in the 3rd grade because I had my detective friends come over to try and decode this horrendous mystery.  We didn't get too far because ol' Thad here did a pretty good job of covering the evidence.  What I did decode was-

To: Shel (Shelly)

Will you go out with me?  

blah blah blah

-Then a pretty mean scratch out-

To: Jennifer

From: Thad

What?  You people are terrible Valentine's givers.

To you on my favorite holiday!  Not.  

No, really it is.