Waldo Flea Market-Part Two

There were quite a few other interesting things in the "Made in China" section as I'll call it. I spent a good number of minutes photographing the Sharpie wanna-be's and began to notice I was hearing a constant drone that sounded like a toy. I thought it was a gun of some sort. I had seen some earlier. Little machine guns that make an artillery type sound when you pull the trigger. It sounded as if one of them had gotten stuck in the on position somehow. I followed the noise, only to discover that the gun sound was not a gun but this...

The noise was supposed to sound like waves on a beach, I guess. Not quite the paradise I think I'm ready for...a light up picture that sounds like an annoying gun toy.

Couldn't resist the juxtaposition of an electric Jesus next to a dog collar. Because earlier at the flea market I saw the sign "Dog spelled backwards is God" in one of the puppy booths. What I didn't see until later was what's in the top right corner of this photo. Here, I'll zoom in...

It's Art! To suit both refined and popular tastes, no less! An apple clock is definitely on my list of both refined and popular art!

Or, if you prefer fake pets, here's a couple of birds.

Some hats...just one of the many exploits of the rebel flag seen at the flea market. I like "Choppers till you die"...since people with a death wish ride motorcycles.

This is in a different "Made in China" section. There were a couple. A huge bin of fake crocs. And I turned to my right, without moving my feet, and shot the next bin over...

A huge bin of bras, four to a pack. I thought they looked very similar to the crocs...colorful and cheap. I don't know if you can tell what they are...I had to use my flash because it was very dim in this section. This probably tips sales in their favor. If you can't see it very well, you might go ahead and buy it. Then, wonder what the heck you were thinking when you get it out in daylight.

We are now entering the animal section of the flea market. You want chickens? There are dozens.

This looks like a bird for a magician. I know it's a terrible picture, but he was moving around a lot.

I shot this from my waist without looking through the viewfinder because I was being watched and didn't want to get in trouble. Maybe the pig has an agent or something and I need to get permission...

This is where I saw the "Dog spelled backwards is God" sign earlier in the morning before I came back with my camera. Maybe they had sold their holiest dog and didn't want to false advertise.

I'm not a member of PETA or anything, but I hated seeing these guys all scrunched together in here.

A baby pool full of rabbits. When we were there in the morning, Penelope kept smacking this one rabbit on the back and he'd hop away. She thought that was so funny so she kept doing it until I pulled her away. PETA...Penelope Exercises The Animals?

Waldo Flea Market-Part One

This past Saturday Jimmy and I went to the Flea Market in Waldo, FL. My parents live just south of Waldo and we were visiting and needed to get out of the house for a bit. My mom buys produce there from local farmers so she gave us some money and her list. We took our three middle kids. I was amazed by what we saw. So much so that I went back later with Jimmy and Jackson and brought my camera. How much fun it was to feel young again, looking at things through my camera and not through the eyes of a mom who is worried her kids are going to touch chicken poop (or anything else there for that matter) and then put their hands in their mouth.

I have looked at pictures of funny signs from foreign countries. I have lived in the south my whole life. But I never knew that all in one place I could see funny grammatical errors and spellings and rebel flags and cute puppies and, well, lots of junk. If you don't believe the south will rise again, just go to the Waldo Flea Market. It is a step into a different culture.

I took a ton of pictures. I am going to show them in the exact order in which they were taken. This is what we saw when we walked in one of the side entrances.
It's nice to have you back, but enter at your own risk...

Maybe you need a concrete sculpture of a caroler dressed warmly for the yard outside your trailer in the summer heat of Florida...?

They have a huge hardware store...my dad has bought plenty of parts/hardware, etc. from them. But I found this sign funny since there are like blades everywhere you look. Jackson of course did the kid thing and tried on sunglasses. You know you can never resist trying on glasses.

The sign says, "We have straw hats and others inside...essential oils & roll on perfume." Roll on perfume? Sign me up!!

You could buy boiled peanuts from "The 3 Flamingoes." As you can see, they have salted, valencia, cajun, bar-b-q, and garlick with a "k". Yummy!

I appreciate this...they want to help people stick to their budget I think. I like the glitter tape around the edges.

I've actually never heard this one. I didn't pick anything up. I didn't want to have to buy a oil and vinegar dispenser or porcelain soap pump.

Now I know where to go if I need to buy a stun gun. Seriously. I might need one some day.

Sunglasses anyone? We have a few.

Or belts? They ALL have shiny jewels on them! Pretty!

We now entered one of the many sections of the flea market that are full of boxes and the boxes are full of items that are made in China.

Because women and men alike need a camo tank top. Note how it says "AMERICAN" across the top.

Or maybe you want First Quality tanks. They give you medium sized biceps and make you feel as if you're floating in the clouds.

You can imagine how excited I was to see this next item...

Shoupies!!!!! Actually they're called SUPER Shoupies! Tou Wen Zi Fine Point Permanent Marker SUPER Shoupies! Love it.

And underneath those...

Shizixing SUPER Shinies! Does it get any better than this? Well, we will all have to wait and see. My flea market trip wasn't over yet, but I'm tired for now. I will go to bed dreaming of Super Shoupies and Super Shinies.

Um, I forgot the title...

I'm feeling old, tired, and stupid. I'm going to write a blog about it. Put that in your laptop and smoke it.

I am a huge advocate for breastfeeding. I have nursed all five of my kids. I was asked recently why I do it. I wanted to ask back, "Why wouldn't I?" One of my main reasons is because of the proof that it increases their brain development. I know their brain is still growing just like the rest of their body and who doesn't want to help out their child in the "smartness" department?

I've heard that everything has a price. Well, the price I've paid for my children getting breastmilk and better brain cells is the total and utter decrease in my own brain activity. My children may be getting smarter, but I am quickly going down the path towards total idiot. I can't remember words. I mistake imaginary characters for real people. I forget important numbers. I purposely put something in a safe place so I'll know where it is only to discover I can't remember my safe place. I stare at people while they are talking to me and I don't hear anything they're saying. I can't answer questions without the help of an encyclopedia. And when I open it, I have to strain to remember alphabetical order. Sometimes I make mistakes when correcting my kid's schoolwork. They are so excited that I have missed something. I am thinking about all that sweet breastmilk I sacrificed for them, and now they want me to do multiplication too? Go get a calculator, smarty pants.

Is it just the breastfeeding? Or is it my age? Is it both? When did I get older? How did I get here? Since when did the "classic rock" station fill up with songs from when I was in sixth grade? Since when do I think that 40 "isn't that old"? When did I start saying things like, "I just need a little peace and quiet" with my forehead all wrinkled up? How long have my hands looked so old and sad? And I won't even begin to ask about my body. After five children I'd like to zap my skin with an amnesia gun and make it forget the stretching out and in, out and in, out and in...will someone hit the reset button please?

I know that young, fun Julie is in there somewhere, but she doesn't change diapers, wipe cracks, do tons of laundry, and buy things in bulk. So she hasn't come out to play in a while. But that's okay. Adult mommy Julie can be fun too. She can make scrambled eggs. And give a fun bubble bath. Every once in a while she can still write a witty blog. And she's highly entertaining if you want to laugh at someone who can't remember her kid's names or where she's parked her car when she's standing right in front of it.

Top 'o the mornin' to ya

We don't celebrate St. Patrick's Day but we do try to wear green if we go out in public. I don't want strange old ladies at the library or grocery store pinching my children. So here's Juliet's green. This shirt was given to me by a friend. She apologized because it was a six to twelve month size and she knew Juliet would only be two months when St. Patty's day came around. But if you're an Alley, you can fill out clothes that are a bigger size with no problem.


I know what you're thinking. How do you do it, Julie? How do you cope every day with so much cuteness oozing from your baby? Well, it's not easy. I try to handle the overwhelming desire to just get into bed and snuggle with this angel until I can't lie there anymore. She is more precious than a pot of gold. We love her!

GROSH!

I have done my dear Libby a disservice by not blogging sooner about her writing. Libby is a writer. And illustrator. She is so productive it would put any artist to shame. She is constantly fleshing out her creative ideas and putting her imagination to pen and paper. We are all entertained by it. The bunk room is, as Jimmy put it, "a story graveyard." Libby has used approximately 2.5 reams of paper so far this school year. She writes. And writes. And draws. And writes and draws some more.

Lately it is comics. They are so genius and funny I have finally saved a few back and photographed them tonight to share on the blog. Hello, hello, hello...






Here's another one in the "comic world" series:



These next few were done in pencil so I've tried to make them easier to see. This first one is quite long, about dog and cat. Here is the cover and the first three frames:



And this is a cover I found on the floor...she never wrote the comic (on to something else I'm sure) but I love the name "Evil Dr. Mean Guy." And I'm sure he would be defeated by "Super Kid."

Libby, I think you're a super kid! I love you! Mom

A time for Windex

Since Juliet was born I am very often asked, "What's it like with five?" And I haven't come up with a response. I think people are just being polite and don't really want a response, but I've been trying to come up with one with no luck. Today, I figured it out. Mostly, it's the same only you add breastfeeding and diaper changes and middle of the night feedings. What's the same? What it's always been with kids. A dichotomy. Wonderful and overwhelming all at the same time. There are times you want to pluck your eyes out, and times you're winking at someone. Times for hugging, times for a spank. Times for eating, times for pooping. Times for laughing, times for crying. And all of these can happen simultaneously somehow. It is irony at it's best. And it is life all around me all the time.

What made me come up with this amazing insight to such a flippant question? It came through Penelope. Today we were cleaning up the house. This means I was trying hard to make sure no extra messes happened. Penelope got the Windex off the counter and began to spray (a lot of) it on the french door rectangular windows. When I discovered what she was doing I said, "Stop!" and went to get a paper towel. No need, she was rubbing it around with her bare hands, then rubbing her hands on her shirt. As I was tearing off the paper towel she said, "I'm washing the index, Mom!" And there it is. A time for a mess, a time for something really cute. What's it like with five? It's awfully good, terribly terrific, and there's lots of laundry.

Aliens and Terrariums

Last night when I went to bed I decided I was going to wake up and do something fun. The weather was supposed to be perfect so Cash stayed home from preschool, we abandoned normal homeschool work ("Just do your math") and the kids and I built a terrarium. I intended to take pictures of every step but I forgot. I've got a good excuse(s). I was dealing with four loud children who seemed to think they knew exactly how to do something they'd never done before. Plus, they all had hammers and were flinging dirt.

Meanwhile, I'm shushing everyone so the baby wouldn't wake up, doing constant laundry (can't suspend laundry day, sorry) to the tune of my dryer which squeaks like 200 fingernails on a chalkboard, and I cut myself on an exacto-knife. So the camera kind of took a back seat.

But here are the steps we used to build our terrarium. And the pictures of steps I did remember to photograph. A friend recently gave us his aquarium so that's what we started with.


Step one: Fill the bottom of the aquarium with dirt. That little plastic container on the side is cut on the top and half the remaining bottom of it acts as a little ramp a creature could go down to get inside the little "cave".

Step two: Add a layer of rocks. We didn't have rocks (and I don't take all five children to the store to buy rocks, puh-lease) but I did have some tile under the house so we used hammers to break up the tile into small pieces. The children totally should have been wearing eye protection and Cash and I both cut ourselves on tile, but sometimes you just live on the edge.


Step three: A layer of spanish moss. There is plenty of this in my yard.

Step four: Put a bowl for a little pond.

Step five: More dirt.

Step six: Plants! Plant them and water them. Add whatever bugs or worms or caterpillars or centipedes the kids can find. Jackson found a lizard, put his hand down into the terrarium to let him go in and the lizard ran up Jackson's arm and leaped as far away as possible from our terrarium. The lizard is no dummy I guess.



I'm going to get some more plants and hopefully one of the boys will catch a lizard and make it stick. It was a beautiful day and fun to be outside. And tonight for dinner I made chicken with onions on top and rice. Penelope looked at it and said, "I don't want aliens!" We gave her chicken without aliens and the kids went back outside to play. I love nice weather!

Pics, nips, and quips

Here are Cash's nipple tattoos which he applied on Sunday morning before church. I made him put on his nice shoes, all the while he has tattoos on his nipples. We can try to impress, but underneath it all, we're pretty much as wacky as Buzz Lightyear on our chests. (I had a cute pic of him in his underwear showing tattoos on his arms and legs as well, but I'm trying to keep a little of his four year old dignity intact.)


Here are Libby and Cash at the "Sweetheart Tea" at Preschool on Valentine's Day. Cash chose to bring Libby. I have to admit I encouraged him in that direction. But if anyone deserves to be called his sweetheart, it's Libby. She has been an amazing big sister to him from the beginning. Penelope wanted badly to be in the picture but I wouldn't let her. I told her I'd take a picture of her after I did them.


And this is the expression I got. Typical Penelope. Obstinate but so cute doing it you almost forget. Almost, Penelope. I said almost.

I also wanted to record a few funny things that Penelope says. I don't ever want to forget that she calls pajamas "ja-mammas" and yesterday she asked for a "garoney" (baloney) sandwich. A couple weeks ago Libby had a friend named Lily over. Penelope was asking me where Lily was. It took me the longest time to figure out what she was saying because her "l's" are "w's". So she kept saying, "Where's Wihwee?" I finally got it when she said very emphatically, "Wihwee! Wibby's friend!" Last night she wanted to play with her "Princess hunnel." She meant tunnel. It's a collapsible contraption you can crawl through. And if she messes her pants and I'm about to discover it she says very quickly, "I don't care, Mom." And when I see what she's done I realize what she's talking about. When it comes to pooping your pants, I do care. But I know they'll grow out of poopy pants, funny words, and nipple tattoos. Until then I get to love and live with it all.

Newbie

Here is my precious newborn baby. Can I just say that there is nothing like it? Holding and loving a newbie. Feeling them against your chest. Kissing their soft skin. Listening to their little breath and feeling it against your lips as you kiss them. Holding out your finger so they can clutch their little fist around it. It makes my heart full of life and hope. My sweet girl is one month old and has been really good and is getting so big already. Here she is hanging out in her crib.


I was lucky to get a smile in her sleep.



Here's the peanut gallery who had to view every picture on the back of my camera as I took them.

Juliet and Cashy-boy. All her big brothers and sisters like to hold her and kiss her.



And this is what she looks like most of the time...she lays on the floor and watches all the chaos that surrounds her!

Sweet angel! We love you!

For the love of Toast

I love toast. I truly do. Is there anything better than bread and butter? Oh, wait. There is. Toasted bread and butter. I eat it at least twice a day. Too many carbs for you? Not me. I will be morbidly obese before I give up toast. I'm not real into food, but toast I can get behind. The appliances on my counter? A bread machine, and my four slice toaster. (And down at the end, the microwave.)

My toppings of choice? Well, there's just butter, of course. Then there's cinnamon sugar (with butter first, of course), honey (with butter first, of course), peanut butter (butter first still), and jelly (I always apply butter first of course). For lunch I often eat sliced cheese (on top of toast with butter) or yogurt (on top of toast with butter). Yummy! (And for those of you who are worried, I don't always use real butter. A healthy spreadable margarine will do too. But the best choice is butter, of course.) Okay, enough about how much I love it. On to my point.

Now. There is something about toast. You must butter it while it is hot. And you must eat it right after buttering. Otherwise, you've compromised it's ability to completely satisfy. And I never trust the toaster. Even if I've scientifically set the toaster, I'm always using different types of bread and so you never know when you might have to manually override the toaster and pop it up yourself. So I keep watch while it is down. Oh, the patience it takes to wait for the perfect browning. Nothing beyond a deep sepia color. Move into the chocolate browns and you've let it go too far. But don't pop it up while it's still just warm bread, you're making toast here!

Okay, I've digressed again. I could write for a while about toast. My point to all of this was that these days, I've been ruining toast. I push down my toast in the toaster and cannot wait for it. The baby is crying. Someone can't reach the light switch. Someone spills their milk. "Mom! I went poo-poo!" and so on. I think I have time to wipe a crack or locate shoes or switch out laundry while my toast is down. I abandon it. It burns. Or worse, it pops at the perfect browning but no one is there to butter it and it sits there and gets cold. Oh the tragedy.

I know one day I'll have all the time in the world to stare at my toaster and butter and eat it promptly. And that I'll wish I had children pulling on my legs asking for a piece. But for now, I just wish my little munchkins understood the sacrifice I make every day (at least twice a day) when I walk away from my toaster with my bread in the vulnerable position. But you are worth it, little ones. And you're probably the only thing to me worth burning toast for. (Don't tell them, but sometimes if I mess up my toast I offer it to one of my kids so I can start again. Hey, it's the least they can do!)