I have a backlog of posts for you someday but have been having some issues with the blog mechanics (namely being unable to post photos) and mostly having time to sort it out. I’m working on changing the hosting and getting things back up and running and will deluge you with updates about things that happened months ago. I can tell you are super excited.

In the meantime, I cannot believe it is August already!! I have a draft of an end of June post– oops. As soon as the weather gets nice, I swear time speeds up into overdrive.
Since I still haven’t worked out a re-direct to the new hosted site, I’m gonna be super fancy and tell you to go here:
to find me and these exciting updates I keep promising. Sorry I couldn’t make this smoother.
Happy August!!

Puppy Season ?

DSC_2552In the past year, my few friends who had dogs basically had most of them die. First Chance, then Maggie, then Buck, then Pepper. All within a couple months of each other. I was ahead of the curve (knowing Maggie wasn’t going to be around much longer) so I got a puppy the same year. This year, however, seems to be the year of the puppy for my other friends. What is really funny is realizing that I am not ready for a new puppy. Once in awhile I have the crazy thought that a puppy would be great for Daisy because she’d have someone to romp with and maybe she’d leave poor old Suzie alone. Then I come to my senses and realize I am not ready for a puppy yet.

Being a lover of all things cute and fuzzy, I assumed the minute I met my friend’s puppies, I’d go all mush and want to take them home.  Instead I loved meeting them -fluffy, tiny, adorable balls of love and mischief, and I left with an overwhelming sense of gratitude that they were not coming home with me. I guess I’m not quite recovered from my own puppy yet — or rather, we’re in the one year old puppy stage which is a big enough handful right now.

It also reminds me, once again, to look for the good in my current situation. Not that there aren’t struggles, but that there is always good to be found.

I do miss the tiny puppy snuggles. I do not miss having to be vigilant about shoes, anything on the floor, or someone peeing in the wrong place. Daisy is 1.5 years old. She is and has been completely potty trained for so long I barely remember that rough month last spring. She comes when she is called. She chews on toys exclusively and hasn’t destroyed anything in a long time (except that one day I left her out of the crate when I went to Mass — oops). She doesn’t even have to sleep in a crate anymore because she’s proven she can be trusted at night. This is all very good and makes my life a happy place. Would lack of these things ruin my life? No. No it wouldn’t. But it is nice to look back and see how far we’ve come. Now if I can get her to not occasionally knock over tiny people with her exuberance and drop the ball consistently on command, we’ll be really living the dream.

The Project Spiral

I’ve been dying to plank the ceilings upstairs for a long time. I am not a fan of the old ceiling tile squares and to make matters worse, they are badly installed and the lines aren’t straight and there’s an inch gap on all sides which is wonky and used to allow dead bugs to fall down (before I caulked them). It is a Type A nightmare for sure. (And no, we are not surprised that something done in this house was poorly done).

Let’s take a moment though to talk about a little thing I call the “Project Spiral”… if you’ve ever done any sort of project, this may sound familiar. The situation in the yellow bedroom upstairs is a perfect example of the project spiral. I had a short term roommate for a couple months. It should have been fine but ended up being kind of weird and complicated. Regardless, she didn’t spend much time at the house and when she did, she spent most of that time shut in her room. When she moved in at the end of October, I moved out of that bedroom and into the “kid” bedroom figuring it is easier to displace myself for guests than a roommate. I love that little yellow bedroom. It gets great light and though it is tiny, there’s something very cozy about it. It has the old textured plaster walls but I painted it and put a new laminate floor and thought it was pretty great.

Righto. So the roommate moved out and I was having house guests coming so I thought I’d just clean the room, maybe rearrange furniture, swap out the dressers, and call it good. Of course I actually want to plank the ceilings and thought maybe this would be a good time- seeing as no one is living in this room or staying in this room. Plus it is a tiny space to try the planking in and very budget friendly. Maybe…

IMG_0356Around this time, I overreacted to the incredibly busy-ness of the last three weeks and scheduled myself at home. Every night. Because burn out, people, burn out. Work is insane. I had overscheduled my evenings for several weeks. And I needed home time more than anything else. So there I was, at home, in my paint sweats, and decided to paint this old Craigslist stool to turn it into a bedside table for the guest bedroom. A nice low key paint project that I could do in my living room, surrounded by dogs, while watching Fixer Upper. Hard to go wrong really. I paint the stool one night, wax it the following night, and then take it up to see how it fits into the bedroom.

I should mention that the bedroom is 10 feet by 7 feet (about the size of an average walk in closet). A full size bed takes up the entire width of the room. There’s not a lot of room to play with. But being the eternal optimist, of course I think I can rearrange things and find space that isn’t there. So I’m scooting the bed to put the newly painted stool turned bedside table (to hold the newly painted lamp). And I notice the walls look really dirty. You can see the outline of all the places the roommate had put up pictures. On closer inspection I realize it is soot. I knew she was burning candles up there– fine– and never opened the door– fine– but I wasn’t expecting this! Sigh. I decide to see if I can rotate the bed so I have to remove the mattress and box spring. When I do, I notice there are coffee spills on all sides of the bed– and coffee stains running down the wall where the bed was. Really?? We can’t wipe up coffee when we spill it all over the bed and wall?? I go downstairs and get some cleaner and rags and start scrubbing down everything.

It is while scrubbing down the walls I notice there is a bunch of adhesive gunk on the wall and in several spots it has actually pulled the paint off. What?? I mean, who glues stuff to the wall?? Particularly knowing you’re only going to be there a couple months? Now I’m just annoyed because I am going to have to repaint. On the other hand,, this room was originally painted with one gallon of unknown clearance yellow ($5 baby). Naturally there’s a bit left for touch up but not enough for repainting the whole room. Ugh. And touching up walls that have been covered in soot is not going to work.

And thus the spiral…
Paint a stool to use as a bedside table =>
Rearrange furniture =>
Find soot and coffee stains all over the walls =>
Scrub walls =>
Find adhesive and peeled paint on walls =>
Must repaint the walls…
and if I’m going to repaint, I might as well go ahead and plank the ceiling amiright? That also leads to upgrading the window trim and painting that too, and while I’m doing trim, I should probably swap out door trim too so it all matches…

The project spiral.
I decide to pull off one ceiling tile to see what is underneath, fully aware that this is the point of no return. The tiles are very solidly glued to the original plaster ceiling. (Maybe I was secretly hoping to find old planked ceilings already there– alas old plaster ceilings covered with adhesive holds far less appeal for me). I see no reason to remove the ceiling tiles and will just glue and nail the planks over the existing ceiling tiles. Let’s call it extra insulation, shall we?

So I went to Home Depot after work on Thursday. I got sheets of luan board (very thin plywood often used as underlayment). A whopping $12 per 4×8 sheet. I need 3 sheets for this room but decided to get 4 since I know myself well enough to know I may need it. I asked the nice man at HD to cut it down into 8″ strips (the long way). He said they have a new minimum of 12″. Darn. I thought for a moment. I mean, I do have a table saw and could cut them down myself (other than the fact that I can’t transport a full 4×8 sheet in my CRV). Honestly I don’t want to. I ask the guy how wide his blade is (1/8″) so I ask him to cut the sheets down to 11 7/8 (so they will all be evenly sized) and I decide to just go for the wider plank look. Anything is going to be better than the ugly ceiling tiles.

Once I got home, I notice he cut the planks 11 5/8 instead of 7/8. Meh. What is done is done. I could cut these all in half at home– hmmm– I opt to just go with the wider boards.

Next Up: Actually planking the ceiling…

The Lazy Solution

DSC_1449There I was, at home after being gone for a glorious long weekend, and trying to finish a sewing project that is supposed to be a gift for a bridal shower in two days (no pressure, right?).

The project half sewn together when I needed to iron several parts in order to finish. I grab the iron, plug it in and wait for it to warm up. <crickets> It doesn’t warm up at all. Stone cold. Hmm. I turn it on and off about 19 times, put it on different settings, plug it into a different outlet all to no avail. Noooooooooooooooo. This particular iron is rather old, I bought it for $3 from a thrift store when my last iron stopped heating about a year ago. It has worked just fine since I bought it and lived up to it’s $3 price tag quite nicely. Well… until now, on this cold snowy day, when I have an urgent project to finish.


It was still snowing outside and having braved the roads home from work, I knew it wasn’t pretty. Not to mention cold and gross. And there’s that gift I need to finish tonight. I calculated driving to a nearby store, the fact that it would take a chunk out of my evening and I just did not want to go out.


I begin to wonder if a pancake griddle can work as a reverse iron. And then I notice a little screw on the bottom of the iron. Can’t hurt to open it up and have a look-see, right? I assume, of course, that I will just open it up, admit defeat, and put on my snow boots and head to the closest store that could sell me an iron…


ironfix2Lucky for me, I never put my drill away, so it was within reach and seconds later I’ve removed the screw, pulled off the back of the iron and I’m staring at a singed electrical nut. Hmmm. Suspicious. I pull it off, grab my wire cutters, trim the end off a rather messy looking wire, put on a new wire nut, and replace the iron back and screw. 2 minutes (most of which was spent locating my wire nuts and wire cutters).


As I was screwing the iron back together I had to chuckle as I realized what I was actually doing. My dad and his dad have been known to take apart appliances for years to repair them. Spending far more time and energy than the appliance is worth in many cases. I have been made to poke fun at this very tendency. And yet there I was, doing exactly the same thing. It’s a family thing I guess.


ironfix3After that two minute fix, I had a working iron again (which still feels rather miraculous) and was able to finish my sewing project, without a snowy trek to the store. And all in the name of extreme laziness and being unable to escape my last name.
iron fix1

Creative Moments

Over the winter, I’ve had some bigger projects going on (living room trim, sewing room, staying warm, etc) and I’ve made room for some little insignificant projects. I consider these my mental health projects. They help me decompress from stress and do something creative when life is too much. I will say that a couple dollars and a bit of creativity goes a long way toward saving my sanity sometimes.
DSC_1555DSC_1557 DSC_1572
DSC_1578This lamp is a perfect example.
Purchased for 2.50 at thrift store (half off)
Painted with a couple coats of MMS milk paint in Luckett’s green with bonding agent (from my stash).
Stenciled the leaves on (stencil was a thrift store find $0.50) with MMS milk paint in Grain Sack.
Sanded to distress a few spots
Finished with Valspar chalk paint sealing wax
Lamp shade from Meijer $10
I got a cute lamp out of the deal for about $14 (if you factor in everything) and spent an hour doing something theraputically creative. Clearly a win. It looks a little short for the table I planned to use it on, so I’m going to use it in the bedroom where I need a bedside table. And it means I can scour the thrift stores for another Ugly Duckling to make over.

Game Changers

There are times it sometimes feels like God is very far away. Or at least that my prayers are going unheard, unanswered. Last year around this same time, I had a couple very clear signs that God hears me – oh the prayers aren’t always answered the way I want, or when I want, but He hears and answers. And yet, like the people of Israel in the dessert, I grumble and complain and forget the marvels of the Lord. So he reminds me.

DSC_1171It is no secret that February (and winter in general) is hard for me. I’m sure I have some low grade Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and some high grade “I hate being cooped up” disorder. Add into that normal seasonal blahs, the fact that work has been insane and exhausting and you’ve got a perfect storm of tired, cranky, wants-to-hibernate-Reenie. Not awesome folks, not awesome at all. On Friday when I finally extricated myself from the office I was bone tired. Not just kind of glad it was Friday but exhausted to my core. I got home and actually said, out loud, to my dogs “We have got to get some flowers for this place.” The $1 potted primrose I bought on a whim at Home Depot last week wasn’t enough.

DSC_1195Saturday morning I roused myself, made coffee, and got Suzie out the door for a vet appointment. When I got home there was a box on my porch. Huh. I don’t
think I ordered anything. I opened it up and to my great surprise and delight there were two dozen gorgeous roses from a dear friend who thought I needed flowers to make February suck less. I actually teared up. I am so incredibly blessed to have friends who know and love me that well. What a gift. And the flowers are breathtaking!! They are going to make my life happier for at least the next week or two (maybe even until I get on a plane and head to visit some other sunshiney people in Phoenix for a long weekend).

DSC_1168That same night I went to a dinner auction with friends. At the end of the evening, we all took home flowers from the table. So exactly one day after I was majorly funked out and recognized my desperate need for flowers – God provided three gorgeous bouquets. Amazing. He hears. And this isn’t like one of those life changing “Please heal so and so of this terrible disease” prayers – the prayers I consider “important”. Nope, this was a little thing (and I didn’t even ask): flowers. And maybe, more importantly, what they symbolize for me: hope. And God’s abundant faithfulness.

So wherever you are and whatever little thing you need right now to give you that little push, ask God for it. He hears and provides with abundance! And then look around and take note of the things He provides – because it is incredible what we find when we take the time to notice the gifts He gives. And if He is nudging you to send flowers to someone, go for it – flowers are never a bad idea.

And in the answered prayers department: I’ve been praying for a small health issue for a young godson and it cleared up and they were able to cancel the surgery. Hooray! God is good!

Now if you could all join me in praying for a couple miraculous healings: a friend of mine undergoing chemo for his brain tumor and for a friend struggling with addiction and mental illness. Thank you!

Happy February.

Embracing the Mess

I’ve spoken of Fr. Jacques Philippe before and the profound impact he had on my life. Two years later, I still hear his words echoing in my head on a regular basis “Embrace the poverty.” We all have poverty in our lives and rather than running from it, we need to embrace it and let Jesus use it to transform us.

TDSC_0002his year (okay the last couple years), I’ve been living in a home that is constantly under some kind of renovation. I want it to be Pinterest Perfect at all times. Clean, finished, decorated, cozy, lovely, and a place people want to be. Of course then I think about the places I am most comfortable to be, and not a single one of them is Pinterest Perfect. The places I most enjoy have mail on the counter, kids homework strewn where it doesn’t belong, slipcovers on the couch, dog hair in the corner, laundry out in the open — you get the point. I like to be in the places where real life is happening and people don’t have to be ashamed of that.

DSC_0149I’m not saying we should give up on housekeeping (though my house might make you think I have). I am saying that I am learning to embrace the mess in my life. I still cringe when someone comes through the door and I don’t have it together. When there is a box of home improvement disaster on the kitchen floor. Or that microwave I STILL haven’t installed. I don’t enjoy the mess, but I’m learning to embrace it as part of this life I’ve chosen. I chose the fixer upper, I choose constant improvement, I have an opportunity to embrace the mess, even if it makes me die a little on the inside. Deep breath. I am sometimes amazed when people tell me how much they love my house. They see the progress, the warmth, the comfortable side often while I am cringing about the imperfection.

When the shoe is on the other foot, I love my friends homes. I see the warmth, the reality, the generosity of the people there and never think to scoff at the imperfect nature of the things around me. In fact, I am honored when people tell me they don’t clean for me because they are that comfortable and feel that safe with me visiting. High praise indeed.

So day by day, little by little, I’m killing my inner perfectionist and learning to embrace the mess. Both in my home and in my heart. And embracing the mess, I am embracing my own need for a Savior. Someone loves me in the midst of my mess and gives me Himself. One who calls me to cast off my idea of perfection and embrace His call to holiness, to joy and peace and abundant life. Come Lord Jesus.

Leo and the Interview

My most recent brush with The People of Craigslist seemed worth sharing. I have been wanting to get my mom a canary since her birthday, but they are terribly expensive from a pet store. In the past (many moons ago), there was a “canary guy” in metro Detroit that my aunt referred me to, but I have long since lost his information and maybe he isn’t even dealing canaries anymore.

I had just decided a couple days earlier that I was going to really look for a canary for my mom for Christmas and I was perusing CL (though I’ve never seen a canary up for grabs there before). Why not, though, why not? A couple days after I started looking, up popped an ad for a canary for a very reasonable price. Perfect. I send the email to let them know I’m interested and heard back within a day or two.

Sunday afternoon I get an email asking if I will meet them at Panera at a specified time. Sure. I give my cell number and agree to meet them. I assume, of course, that we’re just meeting in a public place because I could be some creep from the bowels of Craigslist and Panera seems as good a place as any to not be caught alone with me. Makes me feel safe as well, perfect.

So I am sitting there in my car waiting and get the phone call “I’m the guy in the red sweatshirt heading into Panera.” Okay, I’ll be right in. (At this moment it seems kind of like a ransom phone call “Throw your cell phone in the garbage on your way into the building.” Thankfully that didn’t happen). I walk in and Red Sweatshirt and his mousey wife are at a table waiting for me. Uh. I thought we’d exchange cash for a bird in the public parking lot and be done. The wife says, “I really wanted to meet you and make sure you’ll give Leo a good home.”  Ohhhh. So she hesitantly starts asking me about myself and telling me she really, really wants to make sure Leo goes to a good home. Um. What do most people do with canaries?

I smile and tell her I understand, “I have two rescue dogs and know it is important.” (Note: if you are trying to be a fit home for a bird, telling a bird lover about your rescue dogs does not put her at ease.) I told her I was getting it for my mom who recently had my 92 year old grandpa move in with them. She’s had canaries through the years and loves them. They are so cheery with their beautiful singing.

Mousey Wife proceeds to tell me the whole story about how they acquired Leo (I think to appease her guilty conscience about getting rid of him, either that or I was wearing my “Please tell me everything” sign again). She and Red Sweatshirt were at a bird show (his first one — implying clearly it was a regular thing for her – am I the only person who didn’t know there was even such a thing as a bird show??). When they walked in and paid the entrance fee, they got two raffle tickets. On the way there she had JUST told Red Sweatshirt how lucky she always is at raffles. So they won the canary. She leans in for dramatic effect, “the sad part is that I’m really more of a Budgie person, you know, more interactive with my birds.” I nearly laughed out loud but suddenly it all makes sense. She looks like a Budgie person! And her husband looks like a Budgie person’s husband. Incredible!

She tells me a few tidbits about canaries: “He puffs up his feathers at night.” I tell her about my mom’s old canary who used to sing at night if the moon was bright enough. “Oh I ALWAYS cover my birds at night.” Mmm hmm. Us too, obviously. “Leo sings as soon as it is light, but I haven’t heard him at night.” “Great.” There are a lot of awkward moments in this conversation because we don’t know each other and, while she claims to be very interactive with her birds, I don’t think she’s really practiced at interaction with people.

“Do you want to meet him?” She asks me, expectantly. Um yes, that is why I’m here – it’s actually what I thought I’d be doing 10 minutes ago. As we are heading out the door, Red Sweatshirt turns toward me (without making eye contact) and says, “We call him Leo, but it’s short for ‘Leonardo DeFinchio’ even though we know he’s not a finch.” Awkward chortle. Ah. I see what you did there buddy.

So we go out to the cold car where Budgie Lady has got a towel wrapped around the small bird cage. She uncovers him and we stand there in the cold looking at a very canary looking canary. “Great. He’s very pretty, looks good” I say. I’m not sure what she wants me to say here. I’m ready to close the deal and get out of there. Budgie is still looking at me expectantly. “He looks perfect! We had a canary that looks a lot like this a long time ago. (long awkward pause)… Why don’t I pull my car over so I don’t freeze him walking across the parking lot.” As I walk away, I hear her say to Red Sweatshirt “Yeah, I like her.” Whew.

I come back with the car, hand her the cash, and put Leo in the car with me. I wish them a Happy Thanksgiving and thank them. They were so weird about the good bye, about handing over the bird, about being at Panera and interviewing me. Ah well, I think, The People of Craigslist. What did I expect?

Of course then I get series of texts later that evening:
“I forgot to give you the canary food I have left.”
“I can give you our address so you can come get it.”
“I would really like to know how your mom likes Leo. Please let me know.”

Oh boy. This is beginning to feel like a relationship. I opt for buying a bag of canary food (instead of another awkward encounter). Leo delights the dogs and I for a few days and sings beautifully whenever it is light. Great. Just what I was looking for. He does indeed puff up his feathers at night. I bring him over for my mom and she teared up. “It’s perfect!” You gotta love when a gift is well received, especially one that was so awkward to acquire.

A couple days later, a friend and I were out doing a bit of shopping and we are at Lowes. We’ve each gotten our few items and we’re sociably walking toward the cash register… I stopped. There, in a Lowes vest, is Red Sweatshirt. Nooooooo. My pretty imaginary world came crashing down. I prefer to believe that The People of Craigslist don’t actually co-exist in my world unless I purposely encounter them. Sigh. Apparently that isn’t the case. And since that isn’t the case, my friend and I went the long way to the cash register and I explained why once we were safely in the car.

Even funnier is thinking back on our family’s bird history and the things I opted NOT to share with The People of Craigslist. Like that time a few of my younger siblings had budgies. And my impulsive 12 year old brother walked out the back door with a Budgie on his shoulder, right into the waiting jowls of the cats that hung out right at that door on the walls leading to the door. Mmm hmm. I don’t think Budgie Lady would approve at all. I also didn’t tell her the last canary I remember having (while I still lived there anyway) who sang beautifully in the window for years… until a certain barn cat somehow got into the house and ate him. Again, I’m not sure I would have been “approved” for bird ownership if I had told the entire story. Thankfully, no one asked for ALL of the particulars of my bird history and I certainly wasn’t going to volunteer those details.

Leo is now happily ensconced in a large cage, surrounded by spider plants, and sings his heart out at the Bon Terre Homestead amidst the chaos. He brightens my mom’s days and anyone else around to hear him. Absolutely delightful. Leo
So I got both a bird AND an awesome story out of that hour of awkwardness. Booyah.

End of Summer

DSC_8680There are very few times in my life where I flaunt the joys of being single, because frankly, I’d give anything to be married with a family of my own. But in the interest of embracing the joys in my particular situation, here’s today’s happy thought: I don’t have to end summer just because everyone else’s kids are back in school.

You may be ending your summer, and that is all well and good, but I’m going to hang onto it as long as I possibly can. And since Obedience School is the only schooling that will be happening in our household in the near future, we can just pretend fall isn’t barreling toward us at the speed of light. We are in happy denial and plan to live up summer until the bitter end (or until September 22nd since I’m told the first day of fall is Sept 23rd this year). Mmm hmm. That leaves me just a couple more weeks to summer it up big time.

End of Summer List (started a few weeks ago):
– Host Irish Park 2.0 – done!
– Plant a tree or bush over Maggie’s grave
– Take my water loving dogs to a lake, somewhere, somehow
– Finish painting the kitchen cabinet doors (I’m giving myself to the end of September for this one)
– Get an estimate to have someone else paint my outdoor trim (not saying I won’t end up doing it myself, but I’d like to know what I’m worth)
– Organize yard and garden stuff in the barn
– Install microwave
– Can peaches – done!
– Can salsa – done!
– Can tomatoes
– Pick raspberries (not in my yard)
– Cage new orchard trees (to protect from deer)
– Install farm gates – done!
– Re-hang gate near garage
– drink sangria on the deck
– Train Daisy how to fetch for real (as in bring the ball back and then drop it!)
– Bonfires
– Munchkin camp out – done!

Happy Summer!


I’ve long thought we should start a series called #honestproject just to keep it real around here on the interwebs where perfection or at least showing perfection seems to be the thing to do. Sadly I’m really bad at the perfection thing (although I want to master it somehow) and I’m fairly good at the real, nitty, gritty messy parts of life.

So today, in the spirit of #honestproject, I think you should know:
BestiesThis past Sunday was one of those CRAZY days. Mass where a recently ordained deacon friend of mine preached, brunch for 40 at my house (my family and my second family), from there to a pool party with friends (some of whom had been at brunch), and then a BBQ at my aunt’s house (immediate and extended family). Crazy, crazy, wonderful, peopled out, fun day.
So I get home somewhere around 9.30 pm to feed my dogs and unwind a bit. And as I’m cleaning my kitchen (ish) I notice that container of black raspberries I need to deal with. I considered freezing them but then thought I’d be up for awhile, why not make a batch of black raspberry syrup while I’m tasking and relaxing this evening. How could I go wrong, right? I admit the sane (and tired) side of me had my doubts that this was a good idea. However, the “I can do anything” side of me won out and I rinsed the berries, threw them into a pan with water and sugar and set it on simmer.
I finished loading the dishwasher, settled a few puppy shenanigans, and sat down on the couch to watch some TV and put my feet up. I got up and stirred the syrup mix a few times and it was coming along but not done. The sitcom ended and I was up doing a bit more clean up and checking on the syrup. Still needed to cook a bit. So I threw in some laundry, brushed my teeth, started the dishwasher, took the dogs out for their final pee, crated them, turned off lights, and went to bed. And slept like a dead person.
DSC_4104Until 7 am when I woke up smelling something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. What is that smell…. ooooohhhhhhhhh noooooooooooo. I raced down the stairs, where, sure enough, the “syrup” was still simmering. Only there wasn’t much liquid left and it was one large congealed mass of burned smelling dark berry infused sugar scorch. Mmmm. (Did I mention I basically did this to pasta just the day before? Trying to cook lunch while installing gates?)  Anyway, the whole house smells rather bad, but I’m grateful the syrup was on the lowest setting, that it didn’t burst into flames and set off any alarms, and that it is an old pot that I have no intention of cleaning. It could be worse.
In fact, my biggest regret is wasting 4 cups of delicious black raspberries! Oh and being dumb enough to try multi tasking after a full day like that. Nice job Reenie. But I suppose we all have to fail sometimes and I have decided in the interest of honesty, I ought to occasionally share these mishaps since they make up a rather large percentage of my life. I just wish I could share the smell because that really does say it all.
And yes, my patio door is that dirty.