by Amie Sexton
excerpt from "Decorating with Weeds"
This is an area where I can truly say, “I’ve tried it all!” We are a family of five and while my three children are still young, they have huge appetites. We’ve actually had neighbors who wanted to watch our kids eat just for the fun of it. Granted, we may be lacking in entertainment here in rural North Carolina but hopefully you get the point. And I’m not complaining. Sweets and snacks are strictly limited at our house and so my kids eat plenty because they aren’t full of junk. But these big eaters are hard on our budget. I can only imagine the damage they will do as teenagers!
I’ve tried shopping once a month, twice a month, every week, during store sales, and so on. I’ve cut coupons. I’ve cut out pre-packaged foods. I’ve cut corners. I’ve created menus and shopping lists in every form imaginable. If stacks of grocery related paper products could evolve into pot roast we’d be eating like kings every night. Still, it seemed no matter what I tried, we were always low on food and even lower on money at the end of the month. So, where did all this planning and re-planning get me? Back to the one thing that works in my life…simplicity!
We have a basic menu for breakfast, lunch, and dinner with a few extra recipes on standby just to keep life from being too monotonous. I try to think ahead. Not months ahead. There are women who do this and my hat is off to them but a week at a time is about all I can handle without going into information overload.
I can’t share about groceries and budgeting without sharing what has become a favorite story at our house.
Pond Scum Soup
Sounds disgusting, I know, but it’s actually a very delicious soup made with spinach, onions, ham, and chicken broth. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t win any prizes for presentation. My husband officially named it after the very first time I served it to the family and how could I argue with him? It really does look like, well, pond scum.
A while back we moved into a new house that lo and behold has a pond practically in the backyard. One night as I was just about to dish up a batch of soup, Tim and I wondered what the kids would do if they thought we were really eating pond scum. Being the type of parents who aren’t afraid of inflicting minor emotional trauma for the sake of a good laugh, we decided to try them out.
Tim headed out with a large mixing bowl in hand and called all the kids to help him collect our main ingredient. Now, just the thought of scooping dinner from a pond would put average children over the edge. Not my crew. They trouped down to the water’s edge just as cheerfully as ever and as Tim dipped into the slime and algae, my oldest son excitedly declared, “Dad, this is great! This is a lot cheaper than having to buy it at the store!” A boy after my own heart.
Believe it or not, we sat down for dinner and the children ate without a word of complaint. It was only when I began serving seconds and asked if they wanted it “with or without tadpoles” that their eyes grew wide with horror. The rouse was up and we let them in on our little secret. We have trained our kids to be thankful for whatever food is put in front of them but even I was impressed by how far they were willing to go.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Queen of Slobness
by Amie Sexton
excerpt from "Decorating with Weeds"
Is "slobness" a word? Either way, here are my credentials:
1. I am a natural born slob.
My mother is rejoicing to see that I’ve moved past denial.
2. I am a natural born slob who is also a rebellious slob.
You know, the one whose mom forced me to fight my natural slobness as a child and therefore, I choose to use slobness as a symbol of my independence.
3. I am a natural born slob who married another natural born slob.
Although, to this day, Tim claims to have only become a slob after years of my example. Right!
Have you ever dropped in on a friend and heard “come on in but the house is a mess” only to find that “a mess” in her world means the ceiling fans haven’t been dusted in two days and her coffee cup is still in the sink? Oh, the horror!
Well, this was never the case for me. If I said “sure drop by but the house is a mess,” I actually meant A MESS! As in: “I’d offer you a seat if you can just help me move this laundry” or “I’d love to get you a drink but I’ll need to wash a glass first” or even a “just in case, could you leave a current photo by the door on your way in? It makes the search and rescue go so much faster” kind of mess.
There you have it. My full confession. The housekeeping gene; that part of my mother's DNA that triggers sudden, random urges to clean something, definitely skipped a generation.
excerpt from "Decorating with Weeds"
Is "slobness" a word? Either way, here are my credentials:
1. I am a natural born slob.
My mother is rejoicing to see that I’ve moved past denial.
2. I am a natural born slob who is also a rebellious slob.
You know, the one whose mom forced me to fight my natural slobness as a child and therefore, I choose to use slobness as a symbol of my independence.
3. I am a natural born slob who married another natural born slob.
Although, to this day, Tim claims to have only become a slob after years of my example. Right!
Have you ever dropped in on a friend and heard “come on in but the house is a mess” only to find that “a mess” in her world means the ceiling fans haven’t been dusted in two days and her coffee cup is still in the sink? Oh, the horror!
Well, this was never the case for me. If I said “sure drop by but the house is a mess,” I actually meant A MESS! As in: “I’d offer you a seat if you can just help me move this laundry” or “I’d love to get you a drink but I’ll need to wash a glass first” or even a “just in case, could you leave a current photo by the door on your way in? It makes the search and rescue go so much faster” kind of mess.
There you have it. My full confession. The housekeeping gene; that part of my mother's DNA that triggers sudden, random urges to clean something, definitely skipped a generation.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
My Take on Decorating
by Amie Sexton
excerpt from "Decorating with Weeds"
This is one area of organization that actually comes easily for me. You see, I am a minimalist in decorating. Less is definitely more! Less knick-knacks, less dust-catchers, less photographs…more meaningful artwork, more conversation pieces, more classic and/or current photos.
At the risk of offending hundreds of trinket lovers out there, let me share some examples of minimalist verses hmmm…what should we call it? How about shelf-stuffer decorating?
By name, the shelf-stuffer is one who does just that –stuffs shelves. The minimalist looks at a shelf with more than 3 items on it and instantly chooses one item to eliminate. The shelf-stuffer looks at a shelf and immediately notices a three inch block of unoccupied space. Merciful heavens! She begins combing the stores for the perfect piece. With great satisfaction, she finds the world’s smallest basket. It’s absolutely adorable and completely useless. It’s too small to hold anything. Doesn’t function follow form, anyway? Well, practical or not, it fits the space. A shelf-stuffer success!
But what about my collectibles? The reader asks. I’ve pondered this question and here’s my take. In general, collectors are just shelf-stuffers with a little more class. Collectibles are fine to a degree. The problem usually arises in the area of display. Perhaps you are a collector of teddy bears. Who can resist their rustic charm and plump bellies? So, how best can you show off your collection? Grouping is key. A nicely arranged group of teddy bears says, “I collect bears.” One or two bears donning every shelf, chair, bed, or other horizontal surface in every room of the house says, “I’m still working through the emotional traumas of my childhood.” You want people to share your appreciation for cuddly teddy’s not question your mental stability.
There’s another thing to consider regarding collectibles. Ask yourself this question: Is this a collection or an obsession? Not sure how to tell the difference? Let me give you an example. Suppose you’re a big fan of snow globes. You go to a local flea market and find a snow globe not currently in your possession. What do you do? Can you walk away? Or do your palms get sweaty and your hands start to shake with the mere thought of turning your back on the orphaned snow globe? If so, you may need to reevaluate your condition. And certainly, if seeing a snow globe ever brings images of building an addition onto your house for the purpose of storing your beloved treasures… “do not pass go, do not collect $200.” Seek professional help immediately!
While I’m already in deep, let’s talk about photos. Ladies, I’ll be the first to agree that little Binky Boo was the cutest thing in kindergarten, and in first grade, and second, and third, fourth, fifth, sixth…but give me a break, the kid’s in college now. Buy a photo album or scrapbook and fill it with Binky’s first twenty years, then place it on a coffee table or bookshelf for easy access. It’s time to say good-bye to Binky’s wall of fame. Puddy in those nail holes, give the wall a fresh coat of paint, and then choose a flattering, recent portrait of Binky and hang it with pride.
Wait a minute, what about that timeless photo of Binky and Grandpa fishing off the dock with a brilliant sunrise striking the water? Okay, it’s not current but it’s a classic. By all means frame it for the world to see.
A classic photo is one that brings back a memory or tells a story. Maybe it captures an era of simpler times that onlookers can appreciate. I often place a copy of our engagement photo out for viewing. It nicely captures the age in which my husband had hair and it evokes a response from the viewer –laughter!
We cherish photos because we cherish the memories they represent. Pictures share bits of our lives and history with friends and should be glimpses of the things we value most. But we must still be careful. People can get nostalgic about strange things…remember Binky’s first chest hair? Believe me, if anyone wants to see that picture, they’ll ask.
excerpt from "Decorating with Weeds"
This is one area of organization that actually comes easily for me. You see, I am a minimalist in decorating. Less is definitely more! Less knick-knacks, less dust-catchers, less photographs…more meaningful artwork, more conversation pieces, more classic and/or current photos.
At the risk of offending hundreds of trinket lovers out there, let me share some examples of minimalist verses hmmm…what should we call it? How about shelf-stuffer decorating?
By name, the shelf-stuffer is one who does just that –stuffs shelves. The minimalist looks at a shelf with more than 3 items on it and instantly chooses one item to eliminate. The shelf-stuffer looks at a shelf and immediately notices a three inch block of unoccupied space. Merciful heavens! She begins combing the stores for the perfect piece. With great satisfaction, she finds the world’s smallest basket. It’s absolutely adorable and completely useless. It’s too small to hold anything. Doesn’t function follow form, anyway? Well, practical or not, it fits the space. A shelf-stuffer success!
But what about my collectibles? The reader asks. I’ve pondered this question and here’s my take. In general, collectors are just shelf-stuffers with a little more class. Collectibles are fine to a degree. The problem usually arises in the area of display. Perhaps you are a collector of teddy bears. Who can resist their rustic charm and plump bellies? So, how best can you show off your collection? Grouping is key. A nicely arranged group of teddy bears says, “I collect bears.” One or two bears donning every shelf, chair, bed, or other horizontal surface in every room of the house says, “I’m still working through the emotional traumas of my childhood.” You want people to share your appreciation for cuddly teddy’s not question your mental stability.
There’s another thing to consider regarding collectibles. Ask yourself this question: Is this a collection or an obsession? Not sure how to tell the difference? Let me give you an example. Suppose you’re a big fan of snow globes. You go to a local flea market and find a snow globe not currently in your possession. What do you do? Can you walk away? Or do your palms get sweaty and your hands start to shake with the mere thought of turning your back on the orphaned snow globe? If so, you may need to reevaluate your condition. And certainly, if seeing a snow globe ever brings images of building an addition onto your house for the purpose of storing your beloved treasures… “do not pass go, do not collect $200.” Seek professional help immediately!
While I’m already in deep, let’s talk about photos. Ladies, I’ll be the first to agree that little Binky Boo was the cutest thing in kindergarten, and in first grade, and second, and third, fourth, fifth, sixth…but give me a break, the kid’s in college now. Buy a photo album or scrapbook and fill it with Binky’s first twenty years, then place it on a coffee table or bookshelf for easy access. It’s time to say good-bye to Binky’s wall of fame. Puddy in those nail holes, give the wall a fresh coat of paint, and then choose a flattering, recent portrait of Binky and hang it with pride.
Wait a minute, what about that timeless photo of Binky and Grandpa fishing off the dock with a brilliant sunrise striking the water? Okay, it’s not current but it’s a classic. By all means frame it for the world to see.
A classic photo is one that brings back a memory or tells a story. Maybe it captures an era of simpler times that onlookers can appreciate. I often place a copy of our engagement photo out for viewing. It nicely captures the age in which my husband had hair and it evokes a response from the viewer –laughter!
We cherish photos because we cherish the memories they represent. Pictures share bits of our lives and history with friends and should be glimpses of the things we value most. But we must still be careful. People can get nostalgic about strange things…remember Binky’s first chest hair? Believe me, if anyone wants to see that picture, they’ll ask.
The Infamous Info-mercial
by Amie Sexton
excerpt from "Decorating with Weeds"
We’ve all seen it –a beautiful woman in a string bikini, thighs the size of your forearm, flawless air-brushed tan, perfection right down to the shape of her navel. She smiles from the TV screen and boasts “I went from a size 8 to a size 0 in just two short weeks. If I can do it, so can you!”
This woman has obviously never struggled with her weight. She wouldn’t know a stretch mark if it attacked her on the street and her biggest dilemma during swimsuit season is choosing between the blue bikini and the red one. Unlike those of us in the real world who clamor around the department store searching for that one suit that lifts, tucks, firms, cinches, controls, minimizes, and hides all at the same time.
My first reaction to her claim is an admittedly selfish desire to see this waif of a person thrown off balance by a strong wind and sent plunging head first into the crystal waters of the oasis-like swimming pool behind her. It’s not a completely heartless fantasy; after all, at size zero, I’m sure she will float safely into the skimmer where they can fish her out and wrap her up in a nice fluffy dish towel. No harm done.
I’m drawn from this delightful daydream by the voice of the announcer assuring me that these are “real people with real results.” Well, by now I’m so disgusted with the scam before me that I can barely stomach my third Entenmann’s chocolate covered doughnut. Alas, I turn the channel and my appetite is restored. Whew! That was close.
excerpt from "Decorating with Weeds"
We’ve all seen it –a beautiful woman in a string bikini, thighs the size of your forearm, flawless air-brushed tan, perfection right down to the shape of her navel. She smiles from the TV screen and boasts “I went from a size 8 to a size 0 in just two short weeks. If I can do it, so can you!”
This woman has obviously never struggled with her weight. She wouldn’t know a stretch mark if it attacked her on the street and her biggest dilemma during swimsuit season is choosing between the blue bikini and the red one. Unlike those of us in the real world who clamor around the department store searching for that one suit that lifts, tucks, firms, cinches, controls, minimizes, and hides all at the same time.
My first reaction to her claim is an admittedly selfish desire to see this waif of a person thrown off balance by a strong wind and sent plunging head first into the crystal waters of the oasis-like swimming pool behind her. It’s not a completely heartless fantasy; after all, at size zero, I’m sure she will float safely into the skimmer where they can fish her out and wrap her up in a nice fluffy dish towel. No harm done.
I’m drawn from this delightful daydream by the voice of the announcer assuring me that these are “real people with real results.” Well, by now I’m so disgusted with the scam before me that I can barely stomach my third Entenmann’s chocolate covered doughnut. Alas, I turn the channel and my appetite is restored. Whew! That was close.
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