Homemade Vanilla Extract

I'm really excited to share one of my latest projects with you: Homemade Vanilla Extract.

Vanilla Extract is compose of two ingredients: Vodka and Grade B Vanilla Beans.

One of the many things I love about this project is that it's inexpensive. Also, if you like to bake as much as I do, you know Vanilla Extract is an essential in your pantry. To this day, one of the gifts I remember most from my parents is a bottle of Vanilla Extract from Mexico.

Ready to get started? Here's what you'll need:

1. Vodka (I got the cheap stuff, but use whatever you'd like.)

2. Grade B Vanilla Beans (I got Tahitian, rather than Madagascar Bourbon, for no particular reason, from this seller on ebay.)

3. Bottles (I bought amber-colored 8 oz bottles locally from Mountain Mama Natural Foods.)

4. Full page shipping label paper (shown below, bought at Walmart)

So here's what you do:

1. Prepare three vanilla beans for each 8 oz jar you'll be using. In order for the beans to fit into the jars I chose, I had to cut an inch or so off of the ends (I put them aside for use in my grandfather's homemade Kahlua). Then, I took my kitchen shears and split them up the middle, leaving the tops connected, rather than splitting them all the way.

2. Put the beans in the jar. Using a funnel, fill the jar with vodka.

3. Place the cap back on and set aside in a cool place and give it a good shake once a week. Do this for two months, when it will be ready for use. Top off with more vodka as needed - those little beans will keep on doin' work for you.

I wanted to be able to use whatever I bought for labels in a creative way, so instead of messing with a predetermined size, I bought the full sheet shipping labels. This way, I could cut them into ovals, or hearts, or stars (or rectangles, which I ended up doing anyway). But I can also use them in different ways for different projects. I'm good with that.

I used the business card template in my word processing software (Pages for Mac), which gave me the approximate size label I was looking for. I imported a picture of my son, chose the font I liked (Courier), rearranged a few things, and came up with the label you see.

There you go! Homemade Vanilla Extract. Here's the cost breakdown per bottle:

Vodka: 1.06

Vanilla Beans: 0.55

Label: 0.07

Bottles: 1.40

Total: 3.08

Have you seen how expensive store-bought Vanilla Extract is? This is a deal! (And you could save even more money if you find cheaper bottles - which I didn't have any luck with.)

You still have time to make these as Christmas gifts. Enjoy!

Uh-Mazing Cherry Crisp

I made cherry crisp a few days ago. It was so good, Scout would come home from work and immediately say, "You didn't eat all the cherry stuff, did you?"

Yesterday my answer was, "Yes-but-I'll-make-more-I-promise."

I got the recipe online, but used canned cherry pie filling instead of fresh cherries. (Thanks, ABW, for unloading all of your pie filling on us!) Making this was free (I had all the ingredients on hand). On another note, I've never even heard of an 11x7 inch pan, so I used my 9x9. It turned out perfectly. Oh, and I use salted butter in most of my baking. It gave this dessert a nice flavor contrast.

Today I'm making blueberry crisp with the same recipe. Scout will be pleased.

• PASTRY:
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup cold butter, cubed
• 
  FILLING:
• 1 cup sugar
• 1/4 cup cornstarch
• 1 cup cherry juice blend
• 4 cups pitted tart red cherries
• Few drops red food coloring, optional
• 
  TOPPING:
• 1-1/2 cups quick-cooking rolled oats
• 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
• 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 5 tablespoons butter, melted

Directions

• In a bowl, combine salt, sugar and flour; cut in butter. Press into a greased 2-qt. or 11-in. x 7-in. baking dish. Bake at 350° for 15 minutes.
• For filling, combine sugar and cornstarch in a saucepan. Stir in juice. Cook over medium heat until thick, stirring constantly. Fold in cherries and food coloring if desired. Pour over baked crust. Combine all topping ingredients; sprinkle over filling.
• Bake for 20-25 minutes or until golden brown and bubbly around edges. Yield: 6-8 servings.

Now, go make some!

Rearranging Some Things

If I'm gonna blog more, I've gotta have the place organized. You may see the stuff on the sidebar lookin' all jacked up for a while. For now, take a look at one of my new favorite frugal blogs, Fabulessly Frugal.

See you soon!

Homemade All-Purpose Cleaner

The creamy pesto went terribly wrong. Sorry for getting your hopes up, Jon and Abbey. :)

For now, I'm going to share with you one of my favorite frugal recipes: All-Purpose Cleaner, provided by one of my frugal heroes, Amy Dacyczyn.

Save up some store-bought cleaning solution bottles and go to town:

1/2 cup ammonia

1/3 cup vinegar

2 Tbsp baking soda

1 gallon water

Mix it all up in a bucket and pour it into spray bottles. I also like to add a few drops of home fragrance oil. I had this on hand (from Bath & Body Works). It smells like heaven.

Heaven that's practically free. And makes me smile while I disinfect my counter tops.

Let me know if you end up making some (and if you like it).

My Quest to Become the World's Best Housewife

I can't find a job. To be honest, I don't really want to work outside of my home - and this is a recent revelation.

I finished college to stretch my brain and secure my place in the job market. No one told me that if the economy failed, a college education would mean next to nothing. Even if you're a teacher.

After being frustrated, anxious, and annoyed by my professional situation, I've decided to say, "Screw the economy. I'm gonna be the best damn housewife/mother that the world has seen." (Ok, maybe that last part is a stretch. But I'm going to try.)

I'm also striving to be a better blogger. Posting once every eight months is not what I would consider acceptable. I hope to have a tutorial up tomorrow for Old Spaghetti Factory's Creamy Pesto salad dressing! See you then...

Garage Door Makeover

My garage door finally matches my shutters:

I twitched every time I looked at the brown. Wouldn't you?

The weather stripping needed to be replaced as well:

There were cracks all over the place:

As I took the shutters down to wash and repaint them, I started getting irate at the previous contracter/diyer/remodeler who did the painting/repairs/remodeling/etc. There were thickly dried paint drips all over them. Some of the slats weren't even painted completely. They were most likely forty years old and starting to rot. I spent an hour sanding and scraping one of the shutters without much progress. I was not feeling warm and fuzzy.

I HATE lazily done home repairs. I don't get it. If you're gonna spend money to do something, do it CORRECTLY, even if it's "just" paint. You know what I'm sayin'?

In the end, I put my heart health ahead of saving a few bucks, so I sold the shutters on Craigslist (to a girl making a headboard out of them - fun, huh?) and sprung for inexpensive vinyl shutters at Lowe's.

Better, yeah?

Unfortunately, the Colorado heat has scorched my lawn. I'm hoping to get it back to green once it cools down a little bit!

Linking to:

In the Meantime...

My dear friend, Abbey, whom I've known for over 15 years, has a new foodie blog. She's an amazing mom, has an amazing husband, and knows how to throw down in the kitchen. I wish I could go to her house every night for supper.

Check her out, then come back here and see if I've gotten my crap together (it's doubtful).

I'm Still Here

I've been accomplishing much more than I've actually been blogging about. We just got back from a vacation in Seattle (I even reupholstered some chairs while we were there!) and getting the house ready to sell is making me a little nutty. I'll get to posting my projects as soon as I can. Thanks for stopping by. :)

On Why I Hate Craigslist

I love buying things on craigslist. It's the selling of things on craigslist that brings out the very worst in me.

Here is my most recent post:

Two dog kennels (pictured) for sale. $10 each. You may take one or both. Please text or call Erin.

We used to have six dogs, now we have three. The truth is, there just isn't a reason to have kennels laying around the garage when there aren't dogs that occupy them at some point. I thought this was going to be an easy transaction. (Well, until I got a text from Norma five seconds after I listed them.)

It started innocently enough:

Norma: Just wondering if the kennels r avail

Me: Yep. :)

(seven minutes later)

Me: Would you like to come see them?

(almost an hour later)

Norma: I will let my husband know, thanks

(over two hours later - and yes, there's a reason I'm pointing out the time in between texts)

Norma: I'm interested in the kennels how tall are they?

Me: I'm not at home but I'll text you the measurements when I get there.

Me: One is 26 inches and one is 30 inches.

Norma: Ok I'm interested in both but stuck at home without my suv today I live in fountain and can get em tomorrow if that's ok.

Me: Yes, that's perfect.

Norma: Awesome. We just got 2 mastiff pups lol need kennels and are a lil broke after buying the pups so this is perfect. Its 20 for both? (This is where concern started setting in.)

Me: Yep. :)

Norma: Sweet. What time works for u

Me: Noon is good.

So at this point, I figured we had a deal. We'd verified the price, we'd arranged a meeting time, and this conversation has gone on for about four hours - all of which was time I was waiting on HER. All for $20 freakin' bucks.

It was about 1:30 in the afternoon when I decided to silence my phone and lay down with my cranky three year old. Scout was home from work early so the three of us climbed into bed and promptly fell asleep.

I'm a long napper (two hours is my ideal napping duration), but I was shocked when I woke up and looked at my phone. We had been sleeping for four hours. I had six text messages, all from Norma.

Norma: Perfect. Can I get the address please

Norma: (picture of puppy number one)

Norma: (picture of puppy number two)

Norma: I will txt ya tomorrow for address will u hold em for me till tomorrow please or I may be able to get em later today depending on what time my hubby gets home.

Norma: Hi, sorry to keep bugging u I really want these kennels.

Norma: Do u still have the kennels or did someone else get them?

After putting Norma on Stalker Status, I texted her back. Apparently, she can make me wait for a response, but heaven forbid I actually have stuff that keeps me from my phone for a reasonable period of time.

Me: Sorry. I was napping with my son and had my phone on silent. Your pups are precious! I will definitely hold the kennels for you.

Me: My address is blah blah blah. I'm in Widefield so I'm not far from you. :) Sorry for taking so long to get back to you.

Norma: Awesome thank u I will be there at noon tomorrow. (This is where I expected a "sorry for stalking you like a loser ex-boyfriend" text. It didn't come.)

Me: Sounds good. :)

The next day, it just got worse.

Norma: Hi, got a ? My hubby took 5bux this morning left me with 15 can I get both for 15?

This is actually the point where my blood started to boil. Up until this point, she was just a little obnoxious. But after agreeing on a price, when I've already been telling other potential buyers that the kennels were in the process of being sold, it pissed me off. Terribly.

I texted Scout: Ugh this lady is driving me crazy. Now she wants both kennels for 15 bucks because supposedly her husband took 5 dollars out of her wallet.

I have to tell you that I really didn't buy it. I could not imagine that a grown woman with a husband and two new, very expensive dogs could have $15 to her name. I know there are people that exist that literally spend every penny they have per pay-period, but my assumption is that if she did, in fact, have $15 to her name, she'd be more concerned about dog food, or human food, rather than kennels. So I stuck my head in the sand and ignored her.

Then:

Norma: I have 18 will that be ok

For the next four minutes, the two, very distinct personalities that I struggle with had the following conversation:

Erin Rages: No, Crazy Stalker Cheap Skate Lady can kick rocks. We already agreed on a flippin' price! It's not our problem her stupid husband took money out of her wallet! Tell her to go to the ATM!

Erin Empathizes: Maybe she really is struggling financially. What is two dollars anyway, Erin Rages? Seriously, you're getting caught up over two dollars? Just let her have it. We don't need the money - we just want the kennels gone!

I texted her back: Yeah that's fine

No period. No emoticon. That's code for I freakin' hate you.

And as much as I'm blaming this all on her, this really was my problem. It would have been just as easy (physically) to text: No, we agreed on $20. This is what Erin Asserts would have said.

And that's my problem: There's no middle ground for me. I either feel terribly sorry for people and become a door mat, or I get all irrational and angry and cut people off.

Scout got home from work and I unloaded on him. There were tears. There was self-bashing, like "I'm a wimp" and "I can't say no" and "I hate that I'm such a pansy!"

Then she texted me again. At 11:05 in the morning.

Norma: If its ok I'm kinda in the area can I stop by in like 20 mins or so to get em?

Me: Yeah that's fine

Norma: K

And then at 11:45.

Norma: On my way now.

(I didn't even respond.)

At about ten after noon, she finally showed up. Crazy Lady can't be on time for "being in the area and showing up early", let alone our original meeting time. Ugh.

Before she showed up, I had actually hosed down a third kennel and had it sitting next to the other two. When she pulled up, her first question was, "Are you selling this one, too?"

I handed the responsibility over to Scout because Erin Rages was preparing to come out full-force. Norma had more money in her car to pay the full price for the third kennel. It dawned on me: She wasn't broke, she was one of those people that felt the obsessive desire to get a teensy bit better of a price just for asking for it.

And that's what I get. I let my sympathetic, nurturing personality win out over the judgmental personality that knew she had more than $18 to her name. I'm a sucker. And it won't be happening again.

So in short, as much as I hate selling on craigslist, I will be doing it deliberately and frequently to kill pieces of both Erin Rages and Erin Empathizes to create room for Erin Asserts.

I'll let you know how that goes.

Opinions Wanted

This is the house we closed on nearly two years ago. Some of you may be able to attest from this picture that the yard has come a VERY long way. There's still a lot to be done, but grass isn't on my mind today. It's the paint.

First I must say how much the garage door has nagged at me. Why is it brown? Doesn't it make the house look uneven? (Don't even get me started on the Infant Poop color of the actual house. I'm dealing with it.) And did the previous owners lack my OCD Garage Door Must Match the Shutters Disorder? So it's settled. The garage door and the shutters will soon match.

More specifically, though, I'm painting the front door. Here's where I need some input. Scout has learned over the years to "go with it", whether that means a paint color, my design ideas, or a furniture redo. So my questions to him regarding this decision have been met with, "Whatever you want to do, babe."

What I want to do is paint the front door a light aqua-ish color to make the Infant Poop look more like Sand. I'm confident with this step of the project.

But what do I do with the numbers? Pizza delivery drivers love them. People arriving at my house for the first time love them. I love them - I think they are modern-cottage-y. But I've gotten mixed reviews. More than one person has said, "I don't get it." Here's why it's so important: We're putting the house on the market at the end of summer.

I don't want buyers to immediately dismiss our house for a small thing like house numbers. So, do I paint the door, leaving the numbers on as a stencil to peel off later and reveal the white underneath? Or do I take the numbers off, paint the door, and put up more traditional numbers?
Decisions, decisions. (Please, tell me what YOU would do.)

And She's Back

I never thought I would come back to this blog. I was overcome with the most terrible, gut-wrenching sadness (obviously - see the previous post). It's amazing what a year (in this case, more) will do. I'm amazed that I was able to come back from it. And I never want to feel that way again.

I've needed to write. Facebook is great for one-liners, but not for writing. I've been doing it privately for the last year or so, but I missed doing it here, in my tiny little corner of the world.

Thanks for visiting. I've missed you.

Sad

I'm incredibly sad.

There have been pretty major things going on with me. Nothing that I would share on the blog, but potentially life-changing things. Change makes me sad.

For the few of you that still stop and check in on us, thank you. I'm not sure how much I'll be blogging in the future. Maybe when I don't feel totally consumed by sadness and grief.

Bastards

So much for my clean language goal.

We have a local farm nearby that we pass frequently, whether on our way to work or the store.

A couple months ago, I noticed two little cuties on the property:

On my way home from work, I always looked forward to the part of my drive that I got to see the pigs. I would come home and tell Scout what they were up to that day like they were my kids.

Shortly thereafter, Scout would come home and ask, "Did you see the pigs today?", or say, "I saw the pigs today; they were laying in the sun."

When we were driving together, we'd squint our eyes over to the big field and see who could spot them first. It was the farm version of I Spy.

Saturday evening as we were heading to the movies, the pigs were nowhere to be found. We shrugged it off and listed off some reasons they might not be there. Like, maybe they're sleeping. Or maybe they got moved to another piece of the property.

We didn't find out until today that they were attacked. By humans. Twice. (Don't worry, Meg. They survived both attacks.)

I know it must sound silly, but I feel a little bit invested in these pigs. My immediate response was to offer to pull security with my Remington 870.

What kind of person does this shit?

Daddy Phrase

"Hey - eat! Avocados are not cars."

(As Tucker "drives" his avocado across the table and makes vroom-vroom noises.)

Stupid.

Have you ever done something so stupid that you have a hard time wrapping your brain around what could have possibly possessed you to do it?

I have. It was today, in fact.

We closed on our house in August of last year. By my calculations, that's about about seven or eight months. Keep that number in mind.

One of the selling points of this house was the jet tub in the upstairs bathroom. Scout couldn't wait to use it. When we closed on the house and Scout went to take his long-awaited bath (remember, we lived in an Airstream for six weeks prior to that), we were both disappointed when the jets wouldn't work.

Logically, I knew there must be stuff growing inside the jets. But when we cleaned the tub, the jets were always wiped down where the visible grime was. And the jets didn't work anyway, so what did it matter?

Well, today as I was bathing, getting ready to shave and push back my cuticles so that I could paint my toe nails, I decided I wanted to know why the jets weren't working. EIGHT. MONTHS. LATER. Do you know where this is going yet?

I pushed the button. The button that never worked before.

Well friends, the button worked this time. And I promise you that I was totally covered by spattering particles that looked like boogers. Don't take my word for it. See for yourselves:

Scout heard me screaming obscenities and came running upstairs. He walked in on me, completely frozen, and I said, "The jets work. Help me."

I started thinking about the eight months all that crap had to grow. I can't even think about it without wanting to dry heave.

And what in the hell possessed me to push that stupid button?

Happy Easter

The Creepiest Aisle at Walmart is Definitely:

The doll aisle.

There is a doll that will crawl as you walk past her, one that says prayers in Spanish, and numerous dolls that wiggle and coo like puppies. I don't envy those of you with girls (ok, I do. Just not the doll part).

We were in the doll aisle for one reason: We've decide to give the Dr. Phil potty training method a try. A doll that wets herself is suggested (along with noise makers and party hats).

I was very discouraged by the fact that this baby has breasts. Seriously? Do you see her knockers? (Gross!) I wasn't particularly happy with the selection of party hats, either.

This is the kind of silly crap moms do for the love of their children. And for the sake of potty training.

Photo Update

I've been so lazy when it comes to blogging. But seeing Tuck and Butterball reunited gives me a reason to post pictures (don't worry, Grandma San Antonio, I'm burning you a disc).

Getting through the Terrible Twos (a stage which we've officially entered) is usually cured with candy:

Hugs:

Being independent:
The aquarium:
Playing hard to get (how did he learn that already?):

Busy Bee

I've been sewing up a storm lately. I'm on a roll and feel like I can't stop!

I decided that Butterball needed a matching purse for the dress I made her:

And when the handle on my school bag broke, I designed (ok, Erin, not that big of a deal) and made a new one! Can you see the pleats? It's much cuter in person, but I'm also kicking myself for not interfacing it:

I embellished our Plain Jane shower curtain with some vintage lace out of my Grandmother's stash:

And.....

Warning: If you are my sister and want to be surprised for your birthday, do not continue to scroll.

Are you sure?

Ok. The purse:

And the makeup bag (my first project including a zipper. Not quite as bad as I expected):

And now, I'm going to participate in Spring Top Week, over at Rae's. Now that birthdays are under control, I'm going to sew for me, me, me.

Child Talk

Here I am with something that I fear I will forget if I don't document it.

I was sitting in the living room this evening, somewhat engaged in reading blogs, while occasionally looking at the television to see what was happening on COPS. Tucker walked in as a big ol' woman got tased. She fell (hard and clumsily) to the ground, which yanked her pants down enough to expose her thong (THONG!). Tucker looked straight at the television and said, "Eeeeeww."

That's my boy.