"Grandpa's Big Guy"

Here is my dad:

He is bald. 

Before Ryker was born my grandma got him a little dinosaur out fit that says "Grandpa's Big Guy" on it. 

He is finally big enough to wear it. 

The other weekend we were with Izac's family and Izac's dad suggested that we draw a beard on Ryker sometime, to match my dad's because Ryker's baldness matches my dad's baldness. 

So I decided that I was going to do that when he could fit into the "Grandpa's Big Guy" outfit.

We met my dad at my grandparents for Sunday dinner.

I felt all giddy and excited coloring eyeliner pencil on my son's face before bringing him our for everyone to see. I was looking forward to my dad's reaction. 

We had a lot of fun laughing about it and my dad got a kick out of it :) 

P.S. I have been making Ryker a cute little Elf outfit. Stay tuned.

P.S.S. I am still trying to figure out everything and how to make this blog thing cute... 

Sticky Pear Juice

The other day I got ambitious. I decided I was going to try canning pears all by myself. This would be my first time canning all by myself. I usually co-can (I made that up :)) with my mom.

It's simple. She tells me what to do and I do it. I had this inner pride that I had to prove to myself I could do canning alone. I started with my pears in the sink and I washed them. I was feeling pretty confident in my abilities to solo-can (I made that up too :)).

I was trying my best to follow "The Ball Blue Book" with some tips from my mom that I remembered using.

I started peeling them. This task, that I thought would take a few minutes, made a GIANT mess in my kitchen. I had a sink full of pears with Sticky Pear Juice, cutting boards with Sticky Pear Juice, counter space with Sticky Pear Juice, knifes with Sticky Pear Juice, hands with Sticky Pear Juice, and a floor with Sticky Pear Juice (I managed to let one or two (or more) slippery suckers slip out of my hands..).

I was beginning to see the benefit of canning with two people. My sink full of pears was taking a real long time to peel and half. I was beginning to get discouraged in my solo-canning abilities.

After an extended amount of time I finally had them all cut and put them into boil for a few minutes. This continued my floor with Sticky Pear Juice mess  because I had to bring the pears from one counter to another.

Across the floor...

They left their stick and I was reminded of it every time I lifted my foot off the ground.

These pears were supposed to boil for 3 minutes but that turned into 10 because I figured if I tripled the amount of pears I put in the pot they would get done faster. So I tripled the amount of pears I put in and I tripled the amount of time they were to boil.

Time was a-tickin.

After my 10 minutes was up I started spooning them into jars, remembering too late that I wasn't supposed to get the top of the dirty... but guess what?

They ended up with Sticky Pear Juice all over them.

I was beginning to decide after my experiences that canning was a lot easier when you can co-can.

I water-bathed the jars on my moms out-door burner because my stove unit wasn't big enough for the pot. When they were finished. I brought the jars to my house on a cookie sheet. My mom gave me a few jars of spaghetti sauce that we had done a few days to take back with the pears that I had done all by myself (other than water-bathing them on her burner).

As I was bringing the jars to my house, I had my hands full with the heavy cookie sheet full of my freshly finished pears (that had taken all day and drenched my kitchen with sticky pear juice). I decided in order to open my screen and unlock the door I was going to have to free one of my hands.

Well.. I balanced the cookie sheet with my jars on my leg and raised a hand. As soon as my hand came up the cookie sheet tilted sending the jars crashing down at my feet right in front of my door. I heard glass breaking as I jumped away. I didn't even want to look down to see the damage..

It was turning out to be One of Those Days.

When I finally did look down I was happy to see that some jars had survived the crash to the cement but still discouraged some had broke. I worked really hard for those canned pears.

I put the glass in our outside garbage and hosed the remains of my beautiful pears and spaghetti sauce off the porch.

It turned out to be One of Those Days, but it could have been worse...

At least they ALL didn't break. :)

And I headed in to clean my Sticky Pear Juice kitchen.

The Blonde Spot

   My name is Joslyn, with inspiration from The Pioneer Woman and my love of writing (and a little spare time), I have decided to start a blog. Hopefully a couple people will read about my successes (which may or may not be a few...) and my failures (which may or may not be a lot.. :) ) both of which I plan on sharing. 

   Why in the world would I call my blog The Blonde Spot?

    My inspiration?

    Hair. Specifically my hair. 
               (... and may or may not be the many 'blond' spots that I have daily in my life)

Many people have birth marks, different pigments of skin color here and there, raspberries on their sides or freckles (also known as angle kisses :) ).

     Can you guess where my birth mark is? 

     In my hair.

Some of the skin on my head (where my hair grows, right up front) doesn't have pigment (or so I have been told) so the hair in that spot grows in a blonde-white color there, the rest of my hair grows in brunette. I have never colored my hair before (except maybe that Wash Out That Night Color for a Halloween Costume Color). 

I never thought there was a different thing about me until I went to college. Eventually I realized that my hair was different. At first I resented the spot in my hair that grew in a different color. I am a fairly timid person who (generally...) tries not to appear to extreme. My resentment during that time grew to the point that I started parting my hair to the other side. Doing so can almost completely hide The Blonde Spot. 

It was one of these special days, where resentment had parted my hair to hide my birth mark, that I went to visit my grandparents. My grandpa noticed the brunette-ness of my hair and commented something to the effect of "I like your blonde spot, it is you..." 

Such a simple sentence got me thinking that it is me and I don't need to be ashamed of it. I still have my 'brown days' where my hair is parted to hide my Blonde Spot but it's not out of resentment but rather the desire to change things up a little. 

So along with my frequent 'blond' moments, I thought this was a fitting title. :)

P.S. Sorry about the extensive use of parenthesis. :) 

P.S.S. When I figure out how this Blogging Website Thing works I hope to personalize it more.

P.S.S.S. What does P.S. stand for?