Cinder Blocks Are The New Black

I have collected quite a reputation for loving to glue shit to other shit. I'd be worried if it wasn't 100% true, 100% of the time.

"Hi. Yes, I have some shit to glue
to other shit. Uh, do you have time?"

It all came about after I saw the most adorable cinder block planter. It was at a local restaurant where GG and I were having lunch.  I ended up chatting with our waitress about how dang cute it is, when it was revealed that, in fact, our waitress had created it!  I asked her for the deets and ta-da! I knew I had to make one of my own.

The waitress' was a single cinder block "liberated" from an old barn. It has creamy paint that was chipping away to reveal the cinder block underneath.  The waitress saw that block and knew with a little glossy sealant (to make it resto-safe), she would have an amazing planter on her hands.  I wish I'd taken pictures, because it's super SUPER cute.

I couldn't go hunting on abandoned farms after lunch, though, because I was taking my son to his BFF's house for a play date. It was the first time Kiddo #2 had played at his BFF's house, so this was a big deal.  ... Only I couldn't stop obsessing about how cute the cinder block planter is.

Apparently my incessant talking about it got into BFF's mom's head, too, because I got a phone call 2 weeks later saying she (Kris) was ready to make the cinder block planter, so when can I bring my son back so the kids can play together?  Yes, I know you saw the truth there. It was a craft-date for the moms and a play-date for the kids.

Smarty pants. :) 

Only-- here's the best part-- where I was content with just creating a single cinder block planter, Kris' had completely run with the idea.  And MAN was it a great run she went on!

No kidding, I turned into her driveway, saw the structure below and squealed with joy.  I mean, really? It's gorgeous already, with no plants at all!

I love the Tetris look of her set up! Genius!

Materials

Several cinder blocks

Paint (optional but super cute)

Ziploc Bags (gallon)

Hot Glue Gun and sticks

Scissors

Stones

Potting Soil 

Plants

First, Kris painted the cinder blocks black.  I thought they'd be more porous than they were-- all these blocks took maybe 1/3 of a gallon of paint. She did it probably a week prior to the plant-a-palooza, but you could paint yours 24 hours in advance.  I keep wondering what a glossy turquoise would look like, or yellow? Hmmm... 

Then, she assembled them on top of a large wooden board in her front yard. The board is great for creating balance, but I'm sure you could put the blocks directly on the ground.

Ziploc baggie inside waiting
to be glued and trimmed.

Then we hot glued a Ziploc freezer bag (gallon size) inside the hanging blocks to create a bottom.  I tried to glue them so that even when they were full of soil, they wouldn't be visible from the front of the gorgeous structure.

I trimmed the top of the gallon bag off so it wasn't visible from the top of the structure, either.  

Ready for some plants!

I added 5 stones to the bag, and then filled the bag with soil. If you're new to planting stuff, you add the rocks to the bottom of any pot to avoid mould growth.

For Kris' set-up, I had to glue 3 bags to fill the three hanging sides.    

Oh, and for the taller/longer "tubes," Kris added some foam squares to those bottoms. It was a great trick, actually. I'm sure you could use the baggies, but the foam was quicker and faster for the other cinder blocks, since they all had a sorta-bottom created by the block beneath it.  I dunno any other way to explain it. Just make your own and you'll go, "Oooh."  when you get to this point. Again, the baggies would still be fine here. 

Anyway, after we got the holes filled with soil, we went for a walk around her property looking for appropriate perennials.  Oh, and it took my father saying "Perpetuity means forever, Perennials mean forever." for me to finally know the difference between Annuals and Perennials. Whatever.

Gorgeous, am I right?!

So we plucked up some Hens and Chicks (centre), Lambs Ear (right) and Cactus (left).

Oh, and yeah, be really super careful moving cacti, ok? Alternatively, you could have toothpaste-consistency baking soda and water in a cake pan ready to lay your hands in if you decide you're "tougher" than "a dumb plant."  But, since you probably won't be tougher than a cactus, I'd suggest just being careful and wearing gloves. 

Once we got the holes filled with plants that Kris won't have to maintain, I hit the road. Nap time was calling for our three-year-olds (hers seemed to be doing better than mine, but both were pretty sleepy-eyed and combative).  

Now, for the record, there's method to my madness: we chose perennials because they'll look great all year long, and will virtually take care of themselves.  But if you want to put Gerbera daisies or ... any other annual, brightly coloured flower, it would undoubtedly look amazing.  Oh! And ivy would be great, cascading down the blocks, too.  So.  Many.  Options!

From the top. 

The top holes will be filled with some grasses
that hadn't been purchased yet. 

It turned out super SUPER great-- and it only took about 2 hours to glue, hunt for plants, re-plant them in the structure and be done.  Totes doable, yes?

Then hop to it! 

Camping Sucks So Much

You smug bastard. 

It's 11:11.  My wish? That I didn't have to go outside and sleep in the 2-person tent that Santa left for our children this year.  Razza-frazzin' Santa leaves a tent for my camping obsessed kiddos, and no note about how HE's gonna come back and camp with them or something. Nope.  Now Mama has to do it.  Ain't it always the way-- Santa gets the credit, Mama does the work.

So it's 11:11.

Let me rewind a second to the months of January, February and March, where my kids asked me every day, "Can we go camping yet, Mom?"  and I (much to my delight) had to say "Oh darlings, this is the worst winter ever. No, we cannot go camping."  Smile, smile, smile.

Then April, May and June roll into town and I have to pretend I keep forgetting to camp, and that we can't because the ground is too hard, or too wet or too... you get the picture.  Plus there's school... So. Many. Helpful. Excuses.

See, because the thing that Santa didn't think about is that neither Husband nor I are campers.  My ideal camping adventure includes a terrible (campy) 60's Sci-Fi and a FABULOUS (campy) drag show.  It doesn't include bugs, dirt or nature.  Just crap special effects and men who look better in dresses and heels than I do.  Muah! Love it!

All along, however, Husband has been telling the kids he'll camp with them in the basement and then "forgetting" or making sure the kids get into enough trouble that they lose camping as a reward.  Really, we're a match made in heaven, Husband and Me.

But here we were in July, summer vacation for the kiddos and me and finally, finally I gave in and told the kids we could camp outside.

Of course, having spent 6 months fake-forgetting to camp, we actually forgot to get out there Saturday night. Handy for Husband, let me tell you, because I was gonna trade him all sorts of whatever he needs--yes, even that, so that I don't actually have to go out there and sleep on Saturday night.  Unhandy for me because now I can't trade him anything because it's Sunday night and we forgot last night, and now he works in the morning. And I don't.

So I set up the tent with Kiddo #1, giddy and giggly.  I couldn't put the tent on the soft grass, though, because we paid umpteen dollars to have the lawn replaced.  So I cleared a spot off our paving stone patio and set up camp.

Me: I put the tent together.
Husband: Are you gonna sleep out there?
Me: Yes. I told the kids I would.
Husband: Well, you can't just leave them out there.
Me: (irritated because he figured me out) I wasn't GOING to. SHEESH!

Back to the tent I went with a ladybug looking sleeping bag.
Back into the house I come.

Husband: Are you gonna sleep out there?
Me: Yes. I told the kids I would.
Husband: Well, you can't just leave them out there.
Me: (irritated because he figured me out) I wasn't GOING to. SHEESH!

Back to the tent I went with an alligator sleeping bag.
Back into the house I come.

Husband: Are you gonna sleep out there?
Me: Yes. I told the kids I would.
Husband: Well, you can't just leave them out there.
Me: (irritated because he figured me out) I wasn't GOING to. SHEESH!

Back to the tent I went with two pillows and a frustrated rage in my heart.  I really, really just didn't want to sleep outside in a stupid tent, on our stupid paving stones, and how come Husband won't bail me out of this one like he usually does? Grr.

So I put the kids to bed in the tent, kissed and hugged them, zipped them in, and went back into the house.

Husband: Are you gonna sleep out there?
Me: Yes. I told the kids I would.
Husband: Well, you can't just leave them out there.
Me: (irritated because he figured me out) I wasn't GOING to! I am ... geez! I am just gonna go out there when I'm sleepy. Sheesh!

Yes. Totes beginner friendly. 

So I put in a yoga tape and did a cray cray routine that I can only hope was "advanced" because if this is the "beginner" tape, I've been really fooling myself for a long time.  Also, it was a DVD, not a tape, but I'm too old to keep up with the random letters of new technology.  Suck it, digital names.

I gave Husband several legitimate chances to be awesome and go sleep outside but he kept saying "I've gotta work in the morning. You don't. You're on summer vacation."  UGGGGGGH!

So at 11:13, I got into my jammies and went outside.  I entered the tent cautiously because the two children inside were sleeping like starfish.  Luckily the outside light was on so I could see inside and avoid smooshing my kids.  My stupid-camping-loving kids.

I immediately noticed that the pavers were still quite warm through the tent floor.  That's an unexpected perk for the tootsies, although... oh yes. It was quite stuffy in the tent because of the extra heat. And Kiddo #2 had sweat through his jammies.  I rolled him over so I might lay on my side and he made a gross velcro-y sound because he was so damp.  Gag.

My hips don't lie. Each of these sequins represents a throbbing pain point.  

I laid down on my side and instantly, everything hurt.  Because of the warm bricks beneath me, the pain was more of a throbbing instead of stabbing, which was okay I guess. I'm actually not sure which one is worse, but just know that my hips were talking to me, and they were saying "Get me the hell into a bed or shit's gonna get real."

And just like the lagoon animals in The Little Mermaid, the bullfrogs of the creek behind our house were singing "Let's Get It On" by Barry White while a bunch of teenagers yelled and carried on in some undisclosed backyard.

The warmth of the solid brick patio stones aggravated my hips and lower back. And the bullfrogs grunted. While the teenagers screamed. And the green grass grew all around, all around, and the green grass grew all around.

So I lay there with a moist preschool leg and arm draped over my abdomen. Gag.

And I listened while a slithery creature slowly entered the pond and ate all my fish and squinted its evil eyes on our tent.  I couldn't SEE this per se, but I could surely hear it happening. And I did peer cautiously out the tent door/window to spy if there were glowing red eyes coming from the pond or not. I've learned from Scooby Doo that all evil has glowing red eyes.

And the wind blew creepy long-fingered shadows onto our tent.  I exhaled slowly and thought of pleasant things like Smurfs and Bambi and Beauty and the Beast.  Oh that frickin' terrifying Beast.

I will gnaw on your toes and skull for kicks.

And then I thought about raccoons and opossums and their razor-sharp teeth and how one might, like our cats of old,
come up to my toes, which were pushing on the end of the tent, and want to just chew on my toes or my head or HOLY SHIT THERE"S SOMETHING MOVING IN OUR TENT and I screamed and covered my mouth because FRICKDY FRICK FRICK GODDAMMIT CHARLIE!

And while scream-crying, I quickly turned on my video camera and made a video of me begging for ... well, it's just as good to watch the Blair Witch Project again.  Ain't a lick of difference between the shakey snot-and-saline video of Heather Donahue and mine.  ... Except that I may have told the monster that I had two tender, juicy kids to trade for my own life.

"Listen, these other two are young. Take 'em. I'm mostly just fat anyways."

Oh, shut up. If razor-toothed ninja zombies were attacking YOU in the middle of the night, you'd throw your damn kids at them, too. And if you wouldn't, then you haven't been puked IN and pissed ON yet.

It'll happen.
Just believe.

Then I deleted the video because I think in the eyes of the law, "willingness to sacrifice one's young in an attempt at self-preservation during a zombie-ninja attack" is frowned upon.

I grunted and groaned and tried to get myself off the bricks and out of the tent.  I threw a shoe out of the zippy door so that the Killers might eat it first and I could still flee to safety.  Nothing ate my shoe, so I put it on and walked the 4 steps to the backdoor. I stood in the kitchen pacing back and forth like a crack addict trying to come up with a way that I could sleep in my own bed while headlines of "Mother left Kids 7&3 Overnight for Zombies to Eat" scrolled through my head.

Awesome.

And then, our tiny, old Jack Russell Terrier clicked her way into the kitchen. Sure I'd been pacing for 15 minutes before she realized I was in the house, but she came!  I smiled a Grinchy grin and called her to follow me. I giggled like a maniac.

In a flash of fur and triumphant tears, Rizzo was zipped inside the tent with the children, and I was gleefully slipping into our bed.  Rizzo wouldn't let anything eat the children! Rizzo would bark like a maniac if a ninja zombie appeared!  Huzzah for Rizzo!

Husband snuggled into me then realized I was in the bed and where were the kids and I said, "Don't worry, I zipped the dog in the tent."

I swear, I heard him giggle in his sleep.
Like I said, a match made in heaven.