Lint and lace and seeing red... with the whites

So, I'm adjusting to sharing space again with another person. And, today it became known to me that while J is ridiculously intelligent, hilarious to the point of making you pee your pants a little because you're laughing so hard at his horrible jokes, and sexier than I could have ever hoped for in a partner, he has never been taught how to do laundry. 

As I write this, much as I did this morning as I hung the clothing he washed on the line, I'm giggling (a lot). Why? Because friends, I'm not talking about him not knowing how to "add clothes & detergent to the washing machine and turning the knob to start" kind of doing laundry... I'm not even talking about different spin cycles for various textiles or stain removal. I'm talking about sorting. 

 
Notice anything odd about this picture?



Please note: this is one load of laundry; all of this was washed together. 



I thought of writing him a letter... 

Hi Sweetheart,

I really appreciate your help around the house, and how willing you are to help out with chores, so please don't take this the wrong way: Darling, your laundry skills suck. 

I understand you are a 28 year old male who has been fending for yourself for a long time and may not have had to worry about that amazingly bright red t-shirt dying your girlfriend's favorite white skirt pink, or cared about having towel fluff on your t-shirts. You may not have thought about the fact that your black sport socks would leave lint on the tea towels, which will transfer onto our clean dishes when we dry them. And you know those little lace panties you love? They are so much sexier without tears in them.

Thank you for doing the laundry this week. I'm especially thankful to whichever gods or faeries are responsible (and cold water)for the miraculous saving of our whites. But, before you get the urge to simply dump what's in a hamper straight into the washing machine, hit start and wash your belt with your pants again, I figure it's better late than never... 

Too much? :) 

All my love,
Tricia 

(ps. thank you in advance for not getting upset with me for razing you on the internet)

The nesting begins...

Everyone warned me; all the ladies said it would happen. I doubted it. Yet, here I am, in my kitchen on a daily basis cooking and baking. And I must mention, doing this as I looking out the window at the lovely piece of folk art/bird feeder I purchased (bird feeder? who the hell am I?). This is what they tell me is nesting. 

Now if only the urge to clean and finish the nursery would hit.

I've made organic brownies, kale chips, a half a dozen different pasta salads, 3 amazing meals a day and I can't seem to stop perusing cooking blogs for bbq side dishes.  As tribute to one of my favorite childhood tarts,  I have decided to tackle my nan's Strawberry Shortcake from scratch (best biscuits ever) for dessert tonight.

Now, having been domestically disabled for a large portion of my adult life, I'd say this is a problem but I'm feeding the wee one great nutritious food, and learning how to cook meals that will save us money, so it's all good. 

One thing I'm not doing though (as it's hot and all I want right now is an endless supply of fruit salad) is cooking big meals that I can take servings of to freeze for after our babe arrives. I've done a zucchini pasta - that's it. 

So I am graciously asking (puuuulllllease *sob *beg *plead) for recipes and meal ideas for August -- what freezes well and is easy to re-serve or what's super easy to make while I'm nursing? aka: starving yet have no energy too cook

Festing, photography & papier-mâché

My mission: to dance to the drums around our sacred fire at fest while my babe was still in the womb. Mission accomplished. Little did I know that I would be given two additional blessings while at Fest.

One came in the form of a beautiful shaman, Christin Dennis, offering to photograph me while at a festival together. I borrowed some pretty things from a sister, lined my eyes and off we went to the river - which was FREEZING - but worth it...

 ...then off to the open faerie fields, the woods - living and dead - and to a patch of ferns where I was bitten in places no woman should have to apply topical Benadryl. Just sayin' it's not overly attractive to be waddling through a festival site scratching your ass. 

And, proving once again that mistakes can work out phenomenally well, one of my favorite shots ended up being when the setting on the camera was thrown off and the lighting was "wrong" pffft.

I'll take it.

The other was an incredible blessing and sharing ritual with my spirit sisters where they decided they would attempt a papier-mâché mold of my belly (it was colorful). 

Please note, when using tissue paper it's a good idea to put a layer of heavier paper down first, so when someone decides to goop a bunch of glue on top the mold won't distort. And lots of shea butter on the skin first. Holy hell, if you could have seen us trying to pry my skin away from the mold where we didn't lotion it up first... it was a sight. 

So, just make sure when you're doing this that it's totally dry before taking it off. One of my boobs deflated... guess that's what's coming after breast feeding anyway. 

I absolutely loved this experience though, having sisters singing as they placed pieces of paper to mark my growing womb... sharing their birthing stories and passing on advice as the mold dried. Really quite incredible! Although, I may need to try a cast to see if it will hold the shape better, maybe I can layer the mâché with that...

I know when I look back at the photos and recall the memories from that week, it will be like celebrating the second phase all over again. 


Nothing but love of sisterhood and the Goddess.

Next up: henna tattooing