{Skippy's Apricot Cake}

When I was a kid, my Mom used to sing the song, MacArthur's Park, to me at bedtime. It was a really strange song about cake being left out in the rain (a metaphor for love, I think), but I used to love to listen to her voice singing it. She got the solo in high school because she was the only one that could hit the really high note in the middle of the song. Dang, I love that about her.

Although my Mom can certainly sing about a cake, she never was a baker. That's my love. I've always adored how you can take a recipe of simple ingredients, stir them in the right order, and out pops this masterpiece you've created. Cakes, cookies, scones, muffins, bread. Almost everything tastes good right out of the oven. I love it all, especially if it is a family recipe passed down for generations and baked with love.

I have been devouring this cookbook, Make the Bread, Buy the Butter, which walks you through whether you should buy it or make it homemade. I've made three batches of homemade yogurt that is to die for, but that's a topic for another blog. I was also pleasantly surprised to find a cake recipe tucked in the afterward section of this cookbook. It is a recipe her Mom loved to make growing up and the author found six, handwritten copies in her mother's recipe file. She says, "The cake is a wonder, the recipe a treasure.....it clearly wasn't the brainchild of my great-aunt Skippy, though in our family she got all the credit."

This cake is baking in my oven right now. It will be ready in exactly 10 minutes and then I am ready to try it for myself. I'm giddy. Family recipes do that to me. If you're the same, I'm jotting the recipe down below.

Skippy's Apricot Cake

1 box Duncan Hines Lemon Supreme cake mix

1 cup canned apricot nectar, such as Kern's

3/4 cup neutral vegetable oil

1/2 cup granulated sugar

4 large eggs

Glaze: 1 cup sifted confectioners' sugar + 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

Preheat oven to 350. Grease your Bundt pan or 9-inch tube pan. Stir together cake mix, nectar, oil, and sugar. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Pour batter into pan. Bake for 50 minutes. Just before baking time is up, mix together the glaze ingredients. When cakes comes out of oven, immediately turn it over onto a cooling rack positioned over a cookie sheet or large newspaper (anything that will spare you having to scrub your counter later). Pour the glaze on top of cake while it is hot out of the oven. The glaze will melt and flow down the sides of the cake and harden into an irresistible lemony glaze. As my mother wrote on each copy of her recipe: "Makes 12 large slices, 24 lady slices."

Happy baking, friends.

"MacArthur's Park is melting in the dark, all the sweet green icing flowing down. Someone left my cake out in the rain. I don't think that I can take it, 'cause it took so long to bake it, and I'll never have that recipe again. Oh, no."

{Jaws, the Jumping Turtle}

I live in a crazy house. It's full of noise and mess and pure chaos. Those are just the good days, my friends. Mostly, it's a whirlwind. Boys, 5 (including the turtle). Girls, 1 (me).

Of all the boys, our African side-neck turtle, Jaws, is the most well behaved. He lives in a large tank in the kid's room, complete with lots of water to swim and big rocks to sun himself by his heat lamp. He is always smiling (well, it's also the type of turtle he is, but I like to think it's because he is really happy). He is safe behind the glass walls of his tank.

Not anymore. Jaws has been tank jumping, all the way down to the hard wooden floor. Twice this week in fact. He's survived both times, I'm elated to say, but I'm wondering how he finds the power to push through his lid and then take a flying leap. This last time, I started to wonder if maybe our house is just too much for the little guy. Could it be, well, too chaotic?

I felt that way tonight. I got home late from a work meeting to find things in usual disarray--dishes piled high, the dog chewing tiny soldiers, homework spread everywhere (but not done), dirty socks under the coffee table and on TOP of the kitchen table, and everybody needing help with something immediately. A hundred things in a hundred different directions. It's a struggle. A struggle for patience, for getting it all done. A struggle to slow down and enjoy it like everyone says you should. Mainly, I'm just struggling to stay on top of being a good mom. I feel like I'm failing. Miserably.

I snuck upstairs tonight, almost an hour before bedtime, because I couldn't take anymore. Yes, I did. I hid from my kids....in my own house. And although I didn't carry up the bottle of wine (which crossed my mind, believe me!), I did leave the "wild man" zoo downstairs for calm alone time. I sacrificed quality time with my kids for quiet time with myself. Slight guilt, but I can also feel the rational me starting to come back in to focus.

To make amends, I squeezed my kids extra tight at bedtime and smacked lots of kisses on their sweet faces. I hope, I really hope, my suffocating love can make up for all my mistakes, including hiding away tonight. Do you think there's lots of wiggle room in parenting for all the imperfection? Please let the answer be yes.

Oh, and the turtle? Well, I checked on him tonight before turning out their light. He wouldn't even look my way, the sneaky bastard. I know he's planning another escape, but I can hardly blame him, I guess. I know exactly how he feels in all this chaos.

{Time Sucking Creativity}

Writing is my creative outlet. This is why I blog, send handwritten notes, and dream of one day finishing a novel. Words really do make me happy. Lately (refrain from judgment here, please), I've been straying.

Pinterest. A major time sucker in many ways, but so visually stimulating I cannot look away. I have been following the hippest designers and all their lovelies (fabrics, projects, room designs, and on, and on, and on). My new crush is Elsie Larson, designer and owner of Red Velvet, out of Springfield, Mo. I'm not stalking, but it's real close.

Elsie then led me to my next creative adventure. A year of art journaling. Never heard of that? Yeah, me either. But a few short weeks ago, I got an email from Elsie (well, I'm sure she sent it to a few thousand people, but I like to think it was more BFF to BFF) inviting me to an e-course teaching the crazy ways of art journaling. One page per week. Easy as pie, right?

Well, it been interesting. It's also been super fun. I'm not feeling like it's masterpiece material yet, but my first two weeks are pictured here. An introduction page on the left (yes, that's me with a large bunny, if you've got great eyes) and a magazine page with my love list scribbled on top.

I've also been dabbling in some photography, thanks to my friend Dulce. She introduced me to the iPhone app Instagram. Suddenly all my boring photos are transformed into these amazing vintage wonders. I'm a photography genius. If you have your doubts, check out my bear photo from lunch today. Okay, so I'm in the photo, which means I didn't actually take the photo. I did push the button to make it more hazy and dream-like though. It's a gift and you're welcome.

Having said all that, I'm sorry I haven't written more, but please know the creative energy is flowing through me in all kinds of ways. I'm super happy about that. Try to be happy, too. Okay? If you want, I could come over and take your picture.

{Joyful Resolutions}

I rarely keep resolutions made on Dec. 31. It's too much pressure, I think. What can I do at the start of a new year to transform my whole life? Well, jeez. That's a lofty ambition. Do I start with what isn't working at all? Or should I start with areas I've made minor progress and add on to that? You can see my dilemma.

Last year, I tried to keep it lighter. I decided to read 111 books in 2011. Very straight forward goal, plus reading is one of my passions. I've got this. What I could not keep a handle on, unfortunately, was logging each and every book I read. I was on matrix overload. By February, I just conceded that my obsessive tracking was getting in the way of reading, so I stopped entering the books altogether. I'm pretty sure I read more than 111 books. I can't prove it though.

Maybe I would like New Year's resolutions better if they all focused on finding more joy in your life versus the traditional changing all the "bad" stuff. Joy goals would be more straight forward. Simple. Savoring every ounce of your life. If change happens amidst those joy-finding activities, well, good for you. If it doesn't, no big deal. Your main goal is just to live your life to the best of your ability.

With that in mind, here's my 2012 joy list:

1. Nature balances me. Surround myself with great views, sunshine and the smell of pine.

2. Sneak in as many snuggles with my kids as I can. Even if they resist, hold them down for snuggles and call it wrestling.

3. Spend more quality time with family and friends. Hug them more, too.

4. Read & write every spare moment. It's obviously what lights my fire.

5. Speak kinder words to husband. Critique less. He deserves joy, too.

6. Help others.

7. Try one new, crazy adventure a month. Growth is good.

8. Cook fabulously for my family, even if I've never heard of the wholesome ingredients.

9. Make do with less.

10. Count to 10. Take deep breaths. Enjoy this amazing ride.

If my list gets you thinking about your list, I hope you will put finding joy and a passion for your life front and center. You deserve that. Here's to a new year and, I hope, a more joyful us.

Much love, Heather.

{Scent Blowing Box}

This is my Christmas box. It's my hubby's unique creation made with love and lots of hours. It holds my two candles that I always burn from my favorite candle shop, 5B and Co., in Weston, Mo., with a hole in the middle for a scent-blowing fan. I, of course, can't feel the fan, but my husband assures me it's the gem of the whole project. I'm not so sure.

The top also slides off at the side, so I can place my matches and wick dipper securely inside. It's sealed pretty tight, so unless I bulk up on muscles in the new year, I doubt I'll be able to open it by myself. This is fine with me because the wires to the fan got tangled both times my husband removed the top to show me all the amazing things inside.

Do I love it? Well, I definitely love the idea of it. A person who loves me enough to try to make the perfect gift knowing his percentage of failure is really high. He does it anyway despite my lack of trust, negative comments (even in the blog-a-sphere), or irritation at his gift-giving history. I'm not sure I deserve that kind of love with my current Christmas attitude, but I feel honored that he keeps on loving me amid the beautiful peaks and hurtful valleys of our life. That's the really special part. The box is just scent-blowing fluff on the mantelpiece.

{Crazy Roller Coaster Monkeys}

I blog when I'm happy. I also blog only once a month. Mmmm. Interesting correlation.

It's been a tough week and, I note with an exaggerated sigh, that it's only Tuesday. I've been a single mom for the past few days and being in charge of the universe, or even our small household, is not a job title I relish. It sucks actually.

Our boys have been acting like crazy monkeys, the dog has eaten more silly bands then I can count (and two bananas this morning), and we have no running water, thanks to a lovely leak in our 100-year-old pipe somewhere in the back yard. Presents are begging to be wrapped and I haven't even thought about food dishes I need to prepare. Plus, there is more work at work than I know how to get done this week. Dang it, I'm tearing up just writing this stupid list.

Here's the thing. I feel like a silly girl for all these minor frustrations I let set the direction of my day. I have a great life, full of wonderful people that I love and that love me, but here I am writing down a list of complaints in my week. The biggest one may be that I'm overwhelmed by the pace of my life. The lack of control, or perception thereof, sets me spinning. As much as I try, I haven't figured out how to change that yet.

When my kids are arguing or complaining, I always make them say one thing they are grateful for at that moment. Expressing gratitude can change everything. So here it is....my gratitude turnaround for this exact moment. I'm thankful for this roller coaster that is my life because, even when I'm screaming and holding on for dear life, the view is pretty darn amazing. If I get to have someone next to me in the seat, or perhaps puking in front of me, well, I'll count myself even luckier because the journey is richer with others.

Thank you for listening tonight, friends. I do feel some happiness pouring in.

Lots of love and sweet hugs,

Heather

{One Perfect Gift}

My hubby is a great guy. Unfortunately, he's a terrible gift giver. I only mention this because Christmas is coming and, against my better judgment, he's convinced me we should bring back the tradition of giving each other gifts. I'm pretty sure I'm going to regret this.

Last Saturday, I came home from running myself ragged looking for his perfect gift and he was sawing wood in our living room (yes, in our living room, but I don't have time to even touch on that emotional hot button). He has cut, sanded and bolted a medium-size box together with a lid that slides off the top. Inside is a fan, secured with wires from one of our kid's remote-controlled cars. He says it will be my one perfect gift this Christmas. All I can think about is why anyone would need a fan inside a closed box. It's ridiculous and exactly my husband.

I still remember the first Christmas gift he ever gave me. We had been dating six months and it was our first official gift exchange. I opened the box to the largest size jeans I had ever seen with BOSS written down the side of the leg and a matching bright yellow shiny top. It, too, carried the word BOSS across it. It left me speechless. I later asked if he would mind if I took it back to the store to exchange it for something more my style. He let me, reluctantly, and he still mentions to this day that I exchange all his great gifts.

Oh, I wish that were the case. I was not able to take back the large frog figurine that shot water out of it's mouth while croaking nor the 20 miniature cactuses planted in the heaviest pot ever known to man. I kept those, but each time I passed them in the house I asked myself the same silent question---does he know anything about me? How is it that we've been together 15 years and he seems utterly clueless about my tastes, interests and wants?

That's why, a few years ago, I suggested we just focus on gifts for the kids and forgo our personal exchange. In some ways, he seemed relieved. I always thought he was relieved, however, because he didn't have to brave the stores to find a last-minute gift for me. I'm starting to wonder if he felt relief because he no longer had to carry the burden of my major expectations. I didn't want an expensive gift, or a hard to find gift, or an off-the-wall gift, but I did expect something even more difficult from him. A perfect gift that said he knew the very essence of my soul. Somewhat selfish and certainly unattainable, huh?

Since I've come to that revelation this week, it's been a lot easier to look at all the parts of my unfinished Christmas box scattered across the kitchen table. Frustration at the loss of a $50 "perfect" gift has been replaced with love and understanding for the unselfish heart of the maker. It's a big ole' mess, but it's mine. He's a big ole' mess, but he's mine, too. While I'm still not sure what this fan in a box is going to turn out to be, maybe my hubby is finally right about this one. It will be my one perfect gift this Christmas.