Breakfast

This is what breakfast looks like in our home:

The silly grin of a baby who just stole her brother's breakfast bar.

And the non-repentant baby devouring it. Don't bother telling her she doesn't have all her molars in yet; she doesn't care. And don't tell her most babies won't eat Kashi bars for breakfast. Or that most mamas don't make their daughters wear bows with their pajamas. What she doesn't know won't hurt her.

A two-year old feeding a one-year old yogurt. With a Japanese toy for accompaniment.

Helping make pancakes. Or trying to steal one. That's probably closer to the truth.

Two happy brothers with their pancakes. Notice the perfect pose Caiden has adopted. He's a ham, for sure.

Whether we're eating blueberry and whipped cream-topped pancakes or cold cereal bars, breakfast is never boring in our house. On that note, neither is lunch or dinner or snacktime . . .

Good morning, friends!

Another One

We have been plagued by spiders lately. There's not much point in paying a fortune for a company to come out and spray; nobody will guarantee their services because spiders simply step over the pesticide. Addison, on the other hand, would crawl right through it. Kill her, not the spider. That's a bad idea, in my book.



And no, this picture does not do her justice. She's the largest spider I've ever seen, excepting tarantulas, of course, and I still feel a little nauseous when I think of her picking up her long legs and marching right over the doorstep into my house. She was almost as big as some houseguests we've had. A bit of an exaggeration, but only slightly.


But it's not all for naught. The Three are fascinated each time another "Charlotte" comes to visit. After I shooed her out of the house (Herculean effort on my part!), Daddy took care of this one, so her millions of babies wouldn't come for a visit, too, and the children stood transfixed as they watched an army of ants come and take her away, bit by bit. Macabre, but fascinating, nonetheless.

Upstairs Redone

Before:





After:

Blue Hat

For this hat's pattern, go here.

Spring Cleaning in July While Listening to Christmas Music

That's what I'm doing today. My blinds in the back of the house (where we do much of our living) have gotten away from me. Now they're past being dustable, so I've had to bathe them in the bathtub, and I thought while I was at it, I might as well vacuum the ceiling fan, wash the windows inside and out, mulch a flower bed, and pick weeds.

And then, somehow, that turned into pulling the stove out from the wall and cleaning behind it, washing inside cabinets, rearranging the various cooking things, and killing a large spider here and there. Which then led to cleaning the floors (I use spray to kill the spiders), and while I was on my hands and knees on the floor I realized there were some spots in the carpet that needed some help. How cleaning the blinds turned into a full-blown spring cleaning, I'm not sure yet. I'm too tired, frankly, to figure it out.

But I'm not without relief: I have a cold Diet Coke, a brand new Hershey's bar, and Christmas music to listen to. Sirius Pops (channel 86?) is having a Christmas in July day, and after I turned on the TV to listen to my favorite classical station, I realized I was humming along not to Lakme's Flower Duet (my favorite!), but to Come, All Ye Faithful. And while I have a hard-and-fast rule of not listening to Christmas music until after Thanksgiving, I'm breaking it today. It just seems right to do spring cleaning in July while listening to Christmas music.

Maybe that makes me an oxymoron? I'm not sure whether to emphasize the "oxy" (for Oxyclean?), or the "moron." Either way, the blinds look a lot better.

(And if you're my mom and are wondering where the pictures of the upstairs redo are, they're still in my camera. If you're my husband and are wondering where the pictures of the kids are that I promised to email you at work yesterday, those are in my camera, too. If you're anybody else, and you've emailed me in the last week and are wondering if I'm alive, I am. But your emails are still in my inbox. A girl can only do so much at once. :-)

UPDATE: Several of you have asked how I do all this with three little ones at home. Easy: I lock them outside. Just kidding! They "help" me, or I do it while they have roomtime and then naptime. Yesterday I had Grayson "wash" dishes in the sink while Caiden and I finished making cookies. Addie scooted around on the floor hollering for more Cheerios and playing with blocks. If you don't mind the constant noise and extra mess, it works fine to have little ones around while working on household tasks. For big projects, like painting cabinets, I wait until they're in bed for the night. I'm not completely crazy.

A List of Weekend Happies:

• An early morning nature walk with Caiden
• Bacon sizzling in a cast-iron skillet
• Watching Addie eat her piece of bacon
• A lunch made by Chris,
• And a dinner brought home by Chris
• Not answering the phone
• Afternoon snuggles with Grayson during an unexpected rainshower
  
• Caiden's shrieks of laughter while reading Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle
• Crocheting the last section of Addie's matelot jacket
• Sheets fresh from the dryer,
• With ironed embroidered pillowcases
• Falling asleep next to the one I love
  

A Treasure Trove

It's 8 a.m., and I'm comfortably propped up by pillows in bed. Caiden is next to me, giggling at Curious George ("I'm afraid he's on another wild goose chase, Mama!"), and a cup of hot coffee and a lit candle keep me awake. I'm not a morning person. I used to be a morning person, until I became a night person. Few people can comfortably maintain both ends of the spectrum. So now I stay up late, and moan and complain and hide under the covers every morning. Today, when my husband left for work, I decided to be an adult and get up.

It's an hour and a half later, and I'm still in pajamas, still in bed, but now have two cups of coffee in me, and I'm feeling a little more alive. ("Look alive, ladies, look alive!" is ringing in my head. Where from? I surely don't know.) I've been combing the Internet for book lists. Caiden has a shelf heavy with books in his closet. It's not the regular shelf of books we've read or will read soon; it's a shelf high up, and when I remembered it yesterday and climbed up to it, I got goosebumps when I scanned the titles. "It's a veritable treasure trove, Caiden!" which of course required me to explain what "veritable" and "trove" meant. He's into pirates lately, so I used pirate-y explanations, which sent him into bliss, too. I can always count on Caiden to join me in excitement.

Unhappily, though, I realized that Swiss Family Robinson and Treasure Island are probably a little beyond the comprehension of a 5 year old, so now I've loaded myself up with suggestions from this site, and I'll be at Half Price Books nice and early tomorrow morning, coupons in hand, to load up on new favorites. I was pleased to see that we've conquered most all of the list for Year 0 (kindergarten), so we're moving on to Year 1. I think this year we'll enjoy St. George and the Dragon (What little boy doesn't love dragons and saints? A wonderful combination!), Pinnochio, and Peter Pan. This summer we've read through the first two Laura Ingalls Wilder books, and it surprised me to remember the honesty in them. The family's close call at becoming another massacre story in Little House on the Prairie made us both shiver. And of course my childhood copies of Stuart Little and The Trumpet of the Swans need to be shared. So many books, so little time.

I love reading. I believe I've mentioned that once or twice. (Or a hundred times?) Lately I've been busy with domestic happies, namely knitting, crocheting, embroidering, cooking, baking, redecorating. Reading is a steadfast love for me, far beyond a hobby, so it doesn't bother me when the books are dusty on the bookshelf. I know I'll get back to a good book, soon. It's simply too hot to enjoy bubble baths right now, and that's where much of my reading takes place. After reading this wonderful essay by Sally Clarkson, though, I realize that much of what I've read myself lately is, as Charlotte Mason would call it, "twaddle." Plot lines that a child could figure out, language that's unnecessary, writing that just isn't that good. I've been a little disgusted with books. My entire pile of modern library books from earlier went right back to the library. And then I remembered: there are literally thousands of classics that I've never read, despite an English degree, and so many riveting stories I don't even know about yet.

I'm about to dive into something that's going to take up much space in my brain and time in my life, so cracking open a Sir Walter Scott probably isn't practical right now. On top of that, I have five large books I need to read before September--not fun reading, per say, but necessary. So instead, I'm reading to Caiden, enjoying the children's classics I haven't read. The Red Fairy Book, King of the Golden River, Pocahontas. When I consider those "children's" books compared to the books I had picked up at the library, it's easy to see which hold stories of lasting value. Funny, that a children's story could far outvalue so many written for adults.

Sally Clarkson's essay reminded me of something else, though: a love for reading is caught, not taught. I don't have to force it. I love reading. I love reading to my children. And they love being read to. So far, even Addison, at 14 months, loves books. She loves to feel them, turn their pages, chew on them, hold them. A night isn't complete without reading to her in her little armchair. All three children have bookshelves heavy with books, and of course there's Caiden's "treasure trove," laden with tens of novels just waiting. Chris isn't a fiction reader, but he devours Christian non-fiction. He's my source for Yancey, Lewis, and the like. Reading isn't a forced issue; in our home, it's a way of life, as enjoyable as eating or playing or singing. (And much more enjoyable than my singing.)

The thought of all those books, just waiting for us, makes me excited. I wonder if there will be books in heaven? I don't know; so many of those venerable authors will be there, ready to share their unwritten stories with me. That's amazing.

I need to get out of bed, get dressed, and get moving. Kristina's coming today, so I have errands to run. A dinner party tonight needs to be prepared for. And somehow, I'm going to squeeze in a few minutes with each child, reading old favorites. It's a happy thing.

Nostalgia

I've been waxing nostalgic lately. ("Waxing" might be a giveaway.) Things like enjoying a root beer float with the boys brings me back to my teen years, making them with my dad. Or finding the webpage of a rustic lodge retreat in Wisconsin where we vacationed when I was in junior high. Just the name of the place conjures images of my brother finding bones on the cottage porch, where the night before had been a bucket of crawdads. Raccoons had found them. Sad for him (and them), but funny for the rest of us.

And now today I found this site, and I'm in Memory Lane bliss! I've been humming "The Patience Song" and "Bullfrogs and Butterflies" all night, and I can't wait to order a CD or two for me the kids. There is nothing more fun than sharing something from my own childhood with my children. That's why I read them stories from my own copies of Little House in the Big Woods, and Charlotte's Web, and the like. It's why, when Caiden begs me for more stories of when I was little, I sink back into the couch and gear up, pulling out my best ones. And it's why Caiden sleeps in his daddy's childhood bed, gazing up at his Mimi's old stuffed dog, and why a framed embroidery I made when still a girl hangs in Addison's bedroom. My childhood wasn't perfect (Is there such a thing?), but I certainly didn't know it. Besides, it was pretty close. To me, it was enchanted, and I love flavoring my children's childhoods with the memories and traditions of my own. I think it makes for a rich, satisfying growing-up, one that has deep roots that go further and beyond ourselves.

It's a funny thing, that the more of my growing up I share with my children, the more of it I remember, and the more nostalgic I get. Who knows? Maybe I'll ask my mom to pull out my Glamour Girls and old Cabbage Patch doll. Or maybe not. Maybe we'll just stick with an Agapeland CD or two.

A Would-Be Post

I could write a post, if I weren't comfortably planted on the couch upstairs. Absolute silence surrounds me, except for the slightly-snoring dog at my feet. Baby? Asleep. Toddler? Asleep. Little boy? Asleep. Husband? Asleep. This moment is what I live for. Nothing but an open notebook and pen, recent crochet project, and favorite book by my side. No sticky fingers, wailing gummy mouths, dirty diapers or dirty dishes. No telephone ringing. No doorbell interrupting. For just this moment, nobody needs me. It's heaven on earth. It rejuvenates me.

So I would write a post, (possibly about watching an unnamed child ingest melatonin while I was on the phone with poison control asking about an accidental Flintstones overdose? Or maybe about how an unnamed mother decided it was a good idea to completely redecorate the upstairs room the night before a party for 30 at our house?), but really I have nothing to say that's worth taking up more than a minute or two of this blissful, rare moment of silence.

And may I suggest, if you're reading this post on Sunday afternoon, and your little ones (or big ones!) are sleeping, that you close your laptop and pick up a good book, or wrap up in a favorite blanket, or sink into a bathtub of bubbles, and enjoy this Sabbath rest with me?

Happy Sunday, friends.

Dipping Oil

I am a big fan of butter, but my husband loves an Italian dipping oil for his bread. Here's our House Favorite:

1 t. crushed red pepper
1 t. freshly ground black pepper
1 t. dried oregano
1 t. dried rosemary
1 t. dried basil
1 t. parsley flakes
1 t. garlic powder
1 t. minced garlic, or several minced cloves
1 t. coarse kosher salt
extra-virgin olive oil

*Any herb above can be used fresh. Use 1/4 t. instead.
*As you can see, I use 1 T. of each ingredient instead. Use as much or as little as you like, but keep the overall ratios the same.

In a low-sided bowl, combine all dry ingredients. Pour enough olive oil over to cover by about 1/4 inch. Stir well. Enjoy.

This can be wrapped with plastic wrap and kept out, as long as there are no large bread crumbs left in it. We keep ours on top of the coffeemaker or on the bread shelf in the pantry. The boys love to have cheese and bread with oil for an afternoon snack.

A Bedroom Redone

The Nursery:

A Little Boy's Room:


Close-up of the Bookshelf Area (lampshade to be covered yet)


Close-up of the Sock Zebra and its Happy Owner:


Antique mirror and vintage dresser (window treatments TBD):


Framed photography and that go-everywhere stool:
A good night's sleep:



Credits:
Photography, except elephant, courtesy of Daddy.
Quilt & pillowcase handmade by Grammy; inspiration for the room.

17,000 Miles and a Lot of Projects Later

Update: Somehow I erased all the pictures from this--and I'm not crazy enough to re-enter them. Just imagine :)

I mentioned earlier that I had a mysterious reason for why rotten days like yesterday are hard. Several of you wondered if we were expecting? Heavens no! Nothing as exciting as that. My husband has been in Sydney, Australia, for the last 12 days, and I've been a temporary single parent. With an 8600 mile, 15-hour time difference, he felt as far away as the moon.

I had a month's notice that he'd be leaving, so I planned wisely. I have a few tips for when Daddy's away, something that as a former student pastor's wife, I have much experience with. First off, I cook dinner almost every single night, and bedtime is always on time, if not earlier. Keeping the days as normal as possible helps with little boys who miss their Daddy. We usually plan one special outing, but other than that we do the regular things, with little treats slipped in each day. Bedtimes are kept sacred, with each child read and sung to, and extra snuggling for anybody who's a little teary. And for myself, I relish each evening when all three are down, and I have a few hours to myself. I'm not a TV watcher, so I usually snuggle in my bed with a book or in the armchair with a project, enjoying long, quiet hours. I love solitude; only one night of the 11 did I feel a little lonely.

We kept busy these two weeks, with surprise projects that Daddy still doesn't know about. It makes the children cheerful to have the anticipation and mystery of working on surprises, and I'm able to use the quiet time in the evenings to do anything that is toxic when kids are awake--like painting furniture black! And for my own sanity, I splurged on a babysitter one night so I could go out with Bridget and Brittani to indulge in our monthly Chili's ritual. Overall, I combined regular, homey things like cooking dinner and baking treats; time by myself; and special projects to take up the evening hours and give me something to look forward to.

This is what we've been up to:

1. I completely redecorated Grayson's bedroom, turning it from a nursery into a little boy's room, complete with new (but actually antique) furniture, linens, and wall decor. I'll post pictures from that on another day.

2. I painted this stool. I found it at my favorite antique store and love it. I used it to stand on while painting Grayson's room, so it needs to be painted again. Until then, it's a perfect place for a two-year old to sit while I'm cooking dinner.



3. I embroidered these shirts for Addie. I've never embroidered before, so I had fun experimenting with different stitches. I also started on a monogram of our master pillowcases, but they're not finished yet.



4. I knitted this hat for Addison. It only took six attempts. And she doesn't particularly like it. Unfortunately for her, I've begun another hat, which she also will be wearing whether she likes it or not. Now if I could only figure out a way to keep it on her head . . .


5. And I crocheted this wrap and flower pin for Addie. This only took one day (One day!), and I love it so much I've chosen another one to do in a pale yellow Debbie Bliss yarn. Making things for her is so fun, and so easy--she's so tiny, it doesn't take long!


6. And while I was at it, I knitted this little shawl for a patchwork bear I've bought for my best friend's baby's birthday. Then I crocheted the flower to pin it together. Baby-proof, probably not. Adorable, though.


7. So now I'm working on this in white with pink stripes. If I can ever figure out all the British vs. American terminology, that is.


8. We had an aquarium several years ago that I loaned to a friend. She returned it last week, so we set it up again. And this time, we're using real plants. We'll see how that goes. It's another surprise for Daddy. He'd have ten pets if I were that crazy, so he'll be thrilled.



9. We made lots and lots of homemade ice cream, enjoyed in a vintage green bowl I picked up at the antique mall. This was one treat that even Grayson could take part in, from making the ice cream to eating it! One night we made root beer floats, which Addison adored, and it reminded me so strongly of growing up and enjoying them with my dad that I almost cried right into my float.


10. And finally, I've done lots and lots of this. The washing machine broke not once but twice this week. Wait, scratch that. Our dog finally lost his mind due to the unrelenting thunderstorms and ate the rubber seal out of it on Monday. It was fixed Tuesday, but when I ran the first load Wednesday, it flooded the laundry room. Finally Friday it was fixed for real, and since then I've relished each and every load. There is nothing that speaks comfort like sleeping on fresh sheets warm from the dryer.




The first ten days passed by quickly and happily, with only Day 11 involving any real breakdowns. Not bad. Now it's almost evening, and I'm anxiously awaiting my husband to come home. I've got Bridget's lasagna to heat up, homemade chocolate chip cookies waiting, and a house that's ready for its favorite man to come home. We made it.

Stumped

Crochet gurus, I need your help! I've started a darling pink and white striped matelot jacket for Addison. The pattern book is British-published, so the lingo is slightly different than what I'm used to. If you are a crochet whiz, especially if you're British, please humor me and help me out:

The Back piece is stitched in double crochet, with 70 rows of 75 stitches, alternating four rows of white with two rows of pink. After the 70th row, this is what the directions say for making the shaping of the neck (but not the neckband itself):

"Row 1 (RS) Patt 25 sts, dec 1 st, work 1 dc, turn.
Cont on these sts only for first side.
Keeping patt correct, dec 1 st, one st in from neck edge, on next 3 rows.
Fasten off."

Okay, I understand each abbreviation, but what is bolded is what I'm not clear on. What does "Patt" mean? (I mean, I know the word is short for "pattern," but what, exactly, am I supposed to do? Does it mean to follow the pattern specified earlier, when creating the back piece? That's what I'm thinking, anyway.) And what does "only for first side" mean? And while you're at it, can you tell me if I really need to carry the yarn up the side? The pattern says to carry the yarn not in use up the side edge, but I've googled it ten times tonight and can't find anything that says how to do it.

Is this something any of you can figure out? It's a collarless jacket with drop shoulders that buttons up the front. The neck is rounded. And since I've bought the yarn and have fallen in love with it, I'm determined to make it! I've never used a British pattern before, and the difference in terms is generally easy enough to figure out, but this part has me stumped!

Help, anyone?

**And thank you, Toni, for saving me a serious headache and educating me on the differences between American double crochet and British double crochet! Fortunately, I was only ten rows in. Any more than that, and I might've thrown it across the room :)

*I'd ask at my local yarn shop, but I met the owner yesterday, and she is a beginning crocheter. So I don't think that'll work :)

Brightening Up the Place

We're having a rotten day here. I was not-so-gently awakened by a grumpy, teething baby, followed closely with sibling squabbles, bad attitudes, a flooded laundry room, and an empty fridge. There are other, larger reasons why days like this are hard, but I can't reveal that until later. Mystery . . .

Not wanting the entire day to progress this way, I put the grumpy/quarreling/bad attitude children in their rooms for "roomtime" at 10 a.m. and got to work. Each one either took a nap or read books in bed, while I turned on the CD player, lit tealites under peppermint oil, baked some banana bread, and vacuumed the entire house after sprinkling the carpet with freshener. Something about good smells, comfort food, and peaceful music make even a rotten day a little brighter.

In the meantime, Bridget brought over home-made lasagna and garlic bread, along with a gallon of milk for the children because I can't leave all day, while waiting for the washer repairman. Besides sustenance, she brought the reminder that when hard days come, good friends are there.

Now it's naptime, and while the children sleep I can pull out my newest knitting project and relax, knowing the house is tidy and I don't have anything I have to do right now. Thank the Lord for small all blessings :)

Critters

Note: Written several days ago. Posted today. :-)

You'd think I live in the country or something. Yesterday, when I opened my front door, she scuttled in:



I was on the phone with my mom, and when I stopped talking and started semi-hyperventilating, I decided to hang up and invite our new houseguest back out. Caiden and Grayson came flying into the room (Note to self: Remember to scream loudly in a panic the next time I need them to hurry up. It works.), and when they saw the spider, they both screeched to a fascinated stop. Caiden, old enough to know spiders aren't supposed to have muscles, began to inch backwards out of room. Grayson, on the other hand, crouched down over the spider, eyes wide, and appeared tempted to eat it. He has enjoyed a spider or two before, and this one would've been a complete meal.

At some point I realized that the spider was supposed to be more scared than I was, but I really think the fear was evenly spread around. I had visions of it running up the wall, jumping the four feet between us, and attaching itself to my face. And then sucking the life out of me. I'm entirely practical when it comes to insects. Don't even ask me how I feel about frogs.

After screaming a good deal, which horrified both boys, I coerced our new friend to excuse herself out of the house. I'm convinced that I burned at least 500 calories. Afterward I slumped down into the easy chair and congratulated myself on reacting calmly in a moment of trauma. Cool as a cucumber.

This morning I was in for another large, furry treat, but this one only had four legs. Caiden's hamster, aptly-named Hammy, broke out of her cage last night--how, I'm still not sure--and squeezed her fat body underneath the closet door (How do they do that? There is only a 1/4" crack under the door!). We followed the trail of chewed-up carpet fibers and found her shivering in the corner of the closet behind the plastic Army men. Smart hamster. If I had broken out of prison, covered open and dangerous ground, and chewed up my owner's carpet, I'd hide behind the soldiers, too. I scooped her up and deposited her back in her cage, and then weighted down the top with my husband's tools. That should do it.

Caiden is mightily pleased with his hamster's escaping finesse. He has referred to it as "The Great Hamster Escape" all day, continually breathing a sigh of relief that "She survived, Mama, she survived!" We have shared the news with every person I've spoken to on the phone, excepting the Veterans who called to ask for clothing donations. And he would've told them, if I'd let him. I even had to mark it down on the dry erase board I usually note Addison's newest accomplishments on (Recent additions: "First step, hallelujah!" and "Refuses to eat anything unless she feeds it to herself, on a spoon, after first smearing most of it in her hair or on the wall.")

Tonight I've shut all the doors tight, including Hammy's, and I'm hoping there are no critter visitors tomorrow. But just in case, I'm prepared: the fly swatter, my outdoor Crocs, the bug vacuum, and a broom are all together in the hall closet. Bring it on.

*Pretend you don't see the dog hair and dust clinging to the baseboards--the spider was behind a large piece of furniture that I moved out of the way. Clearly, I don't clean behind the furniture enough! Yikes.

The Breakfast Book

I've gotten serious about breakfast lately. Cereal with milk just doesn't hold enough allure to pull me out of bed; coffee and blueberry coffeecake with streusel topping? That does. Nutrigrain cereal bars? Nope. Scrambled cheesy eggs and southwestern hash browns? Yep. My kids are reaping the benefits of my new obsession, and our mornings generally go better when the natives have full stomachs. But after just two weeks, I've used up all my tried-and-true recipes. And I need new ones to keep me going.

The other day I found two little treasures at the antique mall. The Breakfast Book grabbed my eye because it was cute and yellow, and it seemed like the answer to my originality woes. And the price? Also perfect. Except that instead of the $3.50 marked, I was charged $15.00.

I sat down with the book at the kitchen table, ready to mark favorite recipes. I turned the first few pages. Lamb Kidneys in Sour Cream. Hmmm. Calves' Broiled Liver. What? Sherried Chicken Hearts. Lemon-Turnip Omelets. Lemon-Turnip Omelets? Seriously?And saving the best for last: Sauteed Brains with Eggs. Brains? Brains for breakfast? Wow. No wonder the price. Who on earth eats Codfish with Mustard Sauce for breakfast? Or for dinner, for that matter? Am I the only one who thinks fish for breakfast sounds wretched? Call me old-fashioned, but I like to stick to the basics, none of which includes organs or fins. Blech. If I told you that I retched, just a little, while flipping the pages, I wouldn't be exaggerating.

There are some promising recipes squeezed in between the Baked Ham with Bananas and Broiled Kippered Herring, though. Hot Chocolate, German Apple Pancakes, and Buttermilk French Toast are good possibilities,i f I can get past the taste-aversion I've developed to this book. At least the cover is cute.

The other little book, a collection of cookie recipes from 1958, was a bit more (Now I can see why!), and it has a few hundred different recipes, including many I've never heard of. From a quick glance, I don't see anything that calls for brains, kidneys, or codfish. And the little drawings throughout of children playing pirates while wolfing down cookies between sword fights are entirely charming, enough so that even if the recipes stink, it was worth the $6.00. That's more than I can say for The Breakfast Book. Don't think that I won't be going back for what I was overcharged. On the other hand, entertainment is always worth something.

That's what I love about antiquing. You never know what you're going to get. And I guess if my children are naughty, I can always threaten Creamed Tuna on Toast or Lamb Kidneys on English Muffins for breakfast. Now that may be worth $15.00