Wherein Mr Renn undertakes a life of perpetual projects

With his abbreviated work schedule and increased expectation of home and family time, Mr Renn has declared that he needs "projects".   I am nothing if not accomodating.





The list of projects is already far exceeding our project budget, so the going is slow.  We are most excited to get to work restoring the antique dining set we inherited from Renn's grandparents, but while we wait for the funds to purchase the leather to cover those seats, we are moving ahead with two other dining chairs that somehow survived the move from PA.  (Only because they were already disassembled and could be made to fit in small odd spots.)  They had been off-white with a green gingham tweed seat that was covered in plastic.  None of these three statements were in terribly impressive condition.



 We experimented with a metallic spray paint for the frames (verdict is still out) and I chose a (cheap) and easy to clean vinyl to cover them (see budget issues above).



 We figured these would make for a simple enough project to get our project-mindedness off to a good start.  You should see our house full of makeover destined furniture, we need all the momentum we can muster.

the yearlies

Utah's own holiday, Pioneer Day, has always meant the same thing to me.  And there have been very few years when I've had to miss it.  I am loyal to my core to my familial routine, which, over the course of a week or so,  must include:

The Bountiful Parade:





And accompanying fireworks:




And a mini family reunion at my Grandpa's sister's house.  Complete with APRICOT PIE, homemade ice-cream, homemade yeast-root beer, and lots of other once-a-year awesome foodness.










This year we also arranged a family picnic at Mr Renn's parents'. Bring on the hammock!








Can there be anything better than mixing family with good food?  I didn't think so.

one-lime-wonder

Mr Renn's sister married into the latin-est of latin families.  So far my favorite perk from this arrangement has been  learning how to make this limeade from her husband Tito.  Before when I'd make limeade I'd use 3-8 limes, which made it seem extravagant.  But this method uses only 1 lime for 2 quarts of limeade.  It doesn't taste exactly the same, but in it's own way it's still awesome.  And when it only uses 1 lime, I feel like I can make it all the time.  We rarely leave the grocery store without a bag of limes anymore.  And it's so simple!

The goods:

1 lime, ends removed
1/2 to 1 cup of sugar, to taste
2 quarts water.



The "why didn't i think of that?" directions:

Blend lime, sugar, and as much of the water as will comfortably fit in your blender until the lime is flying around in little tiny pieces.  Pour through the finest mesh strainer you own, or a cheesecloth into a pitcher.  Add any additional water/sugar to taste, remembering it's always easier to add water or sugar than to take it away.  If you want to get all fancy you can add fresh pineapple or fresh raspberries to your blender (although straining pureed raspberries is always a pain).



It's good, it's fast, and it's cheaper than using half a dozen limes.  We pretty much drink it every day.

old lady, little boy

Yesterday we celebrated Sir O's 5th birthday.  Yup, it's true.  Somehow it's been 5 years since he made me a mother.  The larger part of my brain refuses to believe it.  But time doesn't stop for me and my denial.



Unbeknownst to Sir  O, his birthday was an anticlimactic flop from my mothering department.  For the 2nd year in a row.  Something about moving right beforehand leaves me far too spent to celebrate like a proper birthday fairy mom.  LUCKILY I know Sir O well enough to calculate and get maximum effect out of the resources I can spend.  Sir O got a whopping one present from us this year.  I don't think he noticed. (pardon his "I dressed myself"-ness - the socks remain from his church clothes earlier in the day)



 Only my parents and sister came to celebrate with us, but they were good enough company we didn't feel understaffed.  And our party decor consisted of...... boxes?   But the cake was awesome. (White velvet cake w/ milk chocolate ganache)



 Mr Renn and I stayed up late the night before to decorate it.  Lucky for me Mr Renn, being a dentist and all, is really good at making small things with his hands.  So the "racecars" Sir O requested to top his cake are awesome-sauce.



This boy is teaching me more than I ever supposed I had to learn.  I'm actually kind of liking the phase he's in right now.  He's smart, he has a desire to be helpful, he's attentive, and he asks questions that actually lead to meaningful conversations.  If we could just cut out the insatiable need to whine I'd be content to freeze him and keep him like this for a good long while.



But there's no stopping this kid. I just have to hope I can spin him in a good direction as he takes off like a tornado and lives life on his own terms. Such a likeable force of nature, that kid.

I've got plenty of.....

I am staying far busier than I'm comfortable with.  While we're close, I can't begin to say we're settled in.  There are very few boxes left to unpack.  However, the contents of several dozen "unpacked" boxes are swimming around looking for a place to call home.  It's got the very small part of me that qualifies as a neat freak twitching.  But I can no longer devote majority chunks of my days to settling in.  My short boys will go about living and making messes whether I supervise them properly or not.   And when I don't supervise them properly, things get a bit wild.  Just ask the yogurt that got smeared all over the kitchen floor this morning.

We've gone on picnicking 2 or 3 times a day, because we can and because I don't have to sweep and mop the grass afterwards.



Sir O and his new fanclub of neighborhood kids have managed to cut short the growing season for carrots, the only non-perennial thing the owner of the house had planted for us. But they do go on to eat the carrots (usually), so it's hard to get too upset. (Carrots are a healthy snack, folks)



Our gentleman's cheeks and jowls are rounding out into a perfectly kissable pudge-face. Good heavens he's sweet.  He's also still "spitting up" at 9 months.  Which pretty much means mini real-life vomit.  10+ times daily.  Help.







And Sir O helped me bake his birthday cake today. Because I thought he should have a birthday cake on his birthday, even if he's not getting a proper party until I can get my act together (how long after a birthday is it appropriate to throw a party anyway?) Plus I had to keep him out of trouble during our Captain's nap today. (See yogurt, above.)





(And my middle child isn't less-loved, I promise.  Just less photographed lately.  He's the one who sneaks off and silently makes expensive messes instead of cooperating when the camera is out.)

before the befores

I keep thinking I'm going to get at least one room in this house looking "finished" enough to share our new space with you.  I realized this morning as I fought incredible entropy that my expectations were unrealistic to the nth degree.  I cannot wait until I get my home in order to resurface, or I'll have a small army very worried about me.  Hopefully there will be some more polished "before" pictures soonish so I can dig in on creating "after" photos.  So much to do!

So, here's our space.  It's in the thick of boxes and messes that breed like mutant rabbits.  Someday the boxes will be tamed.  I don't know what to tell you about the messes.



The house is a split level with a crawl space instead of a basement (we live in a flood plane I hear).  Upon entering the house we have a living room with vaulted ceilings and very little wall space against which one can safely put furniture.  I shall have to come up with some creative furniture arrangement in there.  Once the furniture is finished.  But not this day.



Behind the living room is the kitchen/dining room, also with vaulted ceiling.  With tiny cupboards in weird shapes.  And laminate countertops.  Sweet.









If you look across the kitchen you can see downstairs into the family room.  Where we have no furniture.  Oops.  Give us a few months to recover from the shock of making student loan payments and we'll get right on that.  To the side of the family room are two unfinished rooms, one housing our laundry room, furnace and water heater, and one being the craft room/floral studio.



Upstairs are the bedrooms and bathrooms.  They are small, but with vaulted ceilings they don't feel as small as they are.  Still, they are small enough that there's no way to show you the whole rooms in a photograph.  But there's not much to photograph yet, so I'm okay with that.  I'm still getting used to having the master bedroom and bath have windows on the front of the house.  I guess I have privacy issues.









And the back yard is still pretty much heaven.  I could use one more strategically placed shade tree, but other than that, I'm sold.  We spend a lot of time out here.  Especially when I'm avoiding all the boxes I still have to unpack. The only furniture we've acquired since moving here is the table and benches we use as a picnic table.  Eating outside with messy kids is a lifesaver for me.



I bought this sandbox back in April, and we finally got to put it all together after we moved in.  Ask Sir O what his favorite thing is about his new house...... this is the winner.


Followed closely by this "bean tent".  We got the idea from this book.  I hope they grow!




And the cherries are still insanely plentiful.  Aren't they pretty?

plugging

We've mercifully been allowed to borrow our neighbor's internet in the midst of bailing ourselves out from under a flood of cardboard boxes.  I find I have to take lots of breaks to stay sane.   I somehow survived two straight days of wedding insanity this week, and am running on fumes.

But but but....

We have a pie cherry tree that is overloaded with tart red bubbles, and raspberries just turning ripe too.  And a makeshift picnic table.  There are moments when I think that may be all you really need.   So, now my breaks from unpacking are spent pitting cherries, and my breaks from cherries are spent unpacking.  Sounds about right.