Idealistic Dreaming & Impulsive Moments in the Kinnick household.

Today I found myself pouring over some of my favorite blogs. The result? I rushed out (well, I wobbled out) of the room in a rampage. "Watch out Matt, I'm on mission!" I huffed, after climbing the stairs. Stay outta my way, mister. Needless to say, I searched our entire house for any fabrics that I could cut up and use. Sadly, I came up with....Matt's old jeans. So, for a practice run, I made a jean rosette. As I sewed I found myself dreaming of what else I could make. If I can make a rosette, I can sew a dress for the wee lass! Or crochet (after I learn how) an adorable hat adorning the vintage flower I make...and why not fix up some of my old dresses? Revamp!

And here is where I have decided to create a whole wardrobe for Wee Kinnick and myself.

But, what I have right now is a jean rosette. And no fabric. This girl can be quite impulsive. For example, at this moment all I want to do is spend all hours of this night whirring away on my sewing machine (though, the last thing I made from scratch was a doll when I was...10 years old? 8?) Thankfully, my husband is understanding. He laughed. And he's taking it with a grain of salt.

So, for now I'll come up with the ideas and ponder what I can realistically make (a bed spread?) Until I become the seamstress I think I want to be, check out what inspired me:


Isn't this little outfit darling?

Check out her blog @ http://dearlillieblog.blogspot.com/
You can find her on Etsy & even Facebook!

Haven't you always wanted to wear a tutu like this when you were little (I still do...)?

DearLillie again. 

And these sweet shoes, aren't they delectable? 

You can check out more @ http://www.joyfolieblog.com/
Find her on Etsy & Facebook, as well!

When tired of making clothes for your kids, why not make a shirt for yourself?

The wonderful JoyFolie at it again....not to mention she has great music on her site. You've got to go there.

So here I sign off completely inspired and absolutely empty handed of any resources needed. And so it goes... (at least I have my jean rosette)

love, hugs, and sewing machines,

Lindsay Kate

PS. Could this be more of that 'nesting instinct' as its called for us preggo gals?

Another PS. Here's the attempt at a rosette, and a potential use!

the practice rosette; possibility--> pin to little outfits such as this one!

Friendly Fall days: a recovery for Friday.

Friday came with the same attitude of the storm that settled over Fargo. It consumed me and down-poured all day. Though, the rain may not have poured all day, the to-do list and nesting instinct collaborated to create a blustery day inside this girls life. If you only knew what things I checked off my list yesterday, you would be amazed as I remain to be. Let's say for a day I became wonder woman. Once my head hit the pillow, I became the epitome of ragged and worn with persistent heart burn, a nagging head ache and cramping calves. So, maybe not wonder womanesque. 

This morning cheerily came at 8:20am. And boy did it seem much friendlier after such a storm of a day. What I found was a the welcoming arms of autumn on its way to visit. I find myself wishing it would plan a long stay. Knowing it will be brief, I am completely prepared to enjoy it as fully as I can. Even 9 months pregnant. 

Here are some things I've enjoyed with the coming of Autumn:

A perfectly black cat on the fence--and is that a hint of leaves changing color?

Curlies on a pumpkin, The way it should be.

Freshly baked apple pie= the delight of fall. 

Windows open, the husbands feet kicked up, and a wonderfully quiet morning. 

And so this is where the week perks up. Now I plan to concentrate on drinking in every ounce of fall as I wait for our little bundle of joy to introduce herself to our world--a newcomer we most eagerly anticipate.

Off to join my meowing kitty in the breezy fall kisses of wind.

Lindsay

A box of goodies.

Alas, the suspense ends here. These are some of the things we found in our package (yes, the day I ruined the delivery guys morning).

have you ever seen such a fun finger?

I can't wait to put little feet in these!

the cutest rattle in the world.  

blackberry, plum, and grape preserves. Toast with your jam, anyone?

Thank you, Joe & Susanna for the delightful gifts!

Preggo cat lady strikes again.

This morning began slow and easy. 7:00am came just as the light began to shine in our window. The hubby got up, started the coffee, and then came and retrieved me out of the messy, cozy, and perfectly inviting bed. I came downstairs slowly (now waddling as my baby bump has grown to a massive proportions), and made him eggs and toast. A treat in this house. We sat, drank coffee, juice, bit into our pleasantly ripened nectarines as juice dribbled down our faces, and watched our cuddly kitty stare out the window at busy squirrels carrying corn cobs double their own size. Matt then read Harry Potter to me (nothing gets better on cool fall day). We sat and stared for awhile. Then we went on our separate ways for the day.

9:30am came with a phone appointment. 10:15. I see the postman coming to our door with a big package. Forgetting my hair, breath, and general attire (all announcing I had just gotten out of bed--or at least never did anything about the dragon breath, raccoon eyes (from yesterdays make-up) and Einstein hair), I put the phone down and raced to the door grabbing the cat on my way (so he doesn't escape to the great outdoors). I greeted the man. For some odd reason, he quickly moved through the steps of handing over the package. I signed the pad, and as he turned quickly to leave, I attempted carrying the package in while balancing the cat on my big belly. He noticed the struggle and offered to bring the package in. I accepted. Holding the door open for him I watched him pick up the package. And here's where puss in boots decides to freak out.

I held on strong. Soon I lost count of how many punctures I was receiving. The tiny claws worked themselves down my legs, and I lost my grip on him. Leaning over to catch him (though, to my surprise he ran INSIDE the house), I bumped the delivery guys butt with my greasy head. Coming up for air, he was jumping back with his arms raised up. And, with a mumbled "sorry" I watched him race back to his truck. "Uh...have a nice day!" I called. He half glanced back. "I sure made it interesting!" I added. He gave an almost-amused laugh and hopped into the truck and roared down the street. Befuddled, I went back in and picked up the phone to continue my conversation. I had a hard time focusing.

*sigh*. I wonder how many neighbors saw? And how many of his co-workers will hear about the crazy pregnant lady and her cat in South Fargo?

Maxwell as he sleeps. A perfect angel Look at those innocent pink paws. *huff*.

The surprise package! Contents to be revealed at another time.

the itch.

Good gracious. I cannot see my toes. There's a jabbing pain in my rib from a teeny yet persistent pressure. My stomach and bladder are constantly ebbing me to do something (go to the loo, or eat some food). My hips and such are sore like I've run a marathon.

What's the deal? Baby Kinnick on her way.

8 months along

And have I got the nesting itch. The last couple of months in our new home has been evidence of this fact. I mentioned in my earlier post that I had painted...a lot. Here's a list, just for my own satisfaction of seeing it all.
Furniture: baby crib, dresser, two bookshelves, mirror, & two wall shelves.
Rooms: Kitchen & trim, bathroom & trim, dining room & trim (my Mom wallpapered and I painted it) (with the help of my Mother in law), baby room & trim (thanks to my Mom), downstairs hallway, upstairs hallway (along stairs), entryway, Matt's office.
Miscellaneous: painted a sort-of-triptic for the baby room, made four curtains from scratch, hemmed 8 (Ikea iron & hem), a baby mobile, & two headbands for baby
Needless to say, summer has flown!
{photos}:

baby mobile: baby's view from crib

flower = baby headband

Living room into dining room.

Dining room into kitchen

Dining room: wallpapered & painted

Bathroom: from greens to grey & white

Entry: still in progress! Thanks to Jonesdesigncompany.com! I love the idea.

Living room: new wall color & my hemmed curtains

Nearly 11 months later...an update.

Well, hello, blog! It's been awhile.

Life took me on the fast track, and here I am utterly shocked at how twists and turns can land you exactly....here. The last eight months have me in awe. Where have I been?

Well, in December Matt and I started praying about a move to the Midwest. So, come Christmas time we made a drive to Fargo, ND. We were told that it warmed up just for us. It was 9 degrees Fahrenheit. Then, after driving back to New York (with a detour to Texas and North Carolina), we prayed and prayed and felt God leading us to come to Fargo. January contained the news of a baby on the way. We were pregnant! February came with another visit to MN/ND and a house hunt begins. The snow was higher than our car in most places, making it difficult to get an idea of what Fargo was like.

June came and we packed up the truck and headed West. Twenty two hours later (all in one day) we drove to our destination with blood shot eyes, sore rears, and complete exahuastion. Soon we found ourselves nestled into our first house. Maxwell, a fluffy feline, found his way into our home and into our growing family.

Since then I've been 'nesting'; getting ready for baby. I've painted furniture, the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, the bathroom, two hallways, and am now looking at a few more painting projects before baby Kinnick comes. Garage sales, trips to see family, work trips, and many visitors later, I find that it's August and the school year has begun.

So here I am in my pajamas at 9:24 am (because I stayed up until midnight finishing the kitchen wall & dining room walls) attempting a beginning back into blogging. That is, until baby girl joins us. I imagine I'll be too pooped to...blog.

Later I'll post pictures of the transformations in our home & of my belly!

Until next time,

Lindsay Kate

December: Fargo, ND
Babbs Coffee Shop
Praying over a move to Fargo!

February: The house we now call 'home'. And a bit of snow.

July: the belly & I painting the kitchen

August: Maxwell the First. My boy.

Skinny jeans.

 Call me another Simon Peter. Though, I wouldn’t say that I’ve betrayed anything worthy of worship. Merely my sense of right and wrong in the case of Sense and Practicality. Trendiness cunningly deceived me away from a sincere and pure consecration of fashion sense. Maybe you could call me Eve.

Here is where I lay out the betrayal.

You remember the 90’s. Charged acid wash jeans tapered to accentuate the hips. Cut off shirts. Ponderous perms supped up with 220 volts. Never again do we want to go there.

Yet, in a way, the 90’s have serpented their way back into Style Magazine. I feel myself strangely deceived into liking some aspects of the flashback into Michael Jackson era. Skinny jeans happened to be the fruit in this garden that looked good.

It all began with jean shopping. During most of my shopping experience, my gaze was ricocheted off of the so called skinny jeans. I was strong. Determined. Never would I slip my foot into those things. They weren’t quite tapered, but they stretched. Imagine it—getting into them would be like stuffing a snake back into its discarded skin.

Before I knew it, there was a pair—two pairs—in my hands. I was in line for the dressing room. It all flashed before me. Suddenly, I watched myself as a pair slipped up over my hips. Not bearing to see the results, and envisioning an image similar to that of Angela Lansbury in a black leather mini skirt, I shut my eyes.

Have you ever stood in front of the dreaded fun house mirrors?

Slowly, I opened one eye. And then shut it again. I swear I saw a pear with legs wearing my clothes and sporting my hair.

Curiosity creeped into my dressing room and forced my eyes into reality. Hmm. Not…bad. My heart stopped. I glanced over at my boot cut jeans. Relaxed in fit. I’m so sorry! Slowly I allowed myself to move around in the jeans. It did reveal that I had hips. Yet, it didn’t quite feel like a clown show…at all. I think….I like them! came the astonishing thought. What happens next, you'll never believe.

Only a minute before, I had detested the very jeans that my hands would not loosen their grip on. That is, until the woman told me how much change was due. Before my very eyes, my right hand released its grip on the jeans and reached into my bag, pulled out my wallet, and paid her! I walked out of the store with giddiness seeping out of me. Truly, it was a disease.

And, as I sit here in my skinny jeans (and loving them) I type this story of betrayal in my world of clothing sense. What will be next??? Am I an Eve, Simon Peter, or merely a learner of trends and fashion and former prejudiced Elizabeth Bennet?