Monthly Archives: August 2012

Do Ya’ Need A Cuppa’ Coffee?

Spray paint is vogue.

Tables, dishes, dressers, chairs, windows, tree branches~
everything is fair game for DIY’ers with itchy trigger fingers.
Sometimes, I worry about their kids, especially if they stand still
while watching their color-their-world parent with aerosol can in hand.
They could end up Smurf blue or Minion yellow.

But, I just want ya’ll to know,
I was spray paint,
when spray paint wasn’t cool.

In the early 90’s, I spray painted  thrift store baskets glossy white for baby gifts.
A patio table I acquired curb shopping was given new life along with some ugly outdoor chairs.

Yea, I was way ahead of my time.

Back then, when I went into the hardware store for spray paint,
they usually wrinkled their bulbous noses and  superior brows at me,
and told me it couldn’t be done.

Not anymore.

Spray paint comes in prettier colors and covers better,
and salesmen like to encourage, not discourage, useage.

With all my expertise, it was only natural that I create something unique.

I began with this plain ol’ can.
The painful job was eating all those chocolately cookies.
I don’t think I shared the misery with my family,
I handled this one on my own.

Of course, I had to use this Rust-Oleum product.

It was actually  Mitzi’s blog that inspired the craft.  Isn’t she talented?
I love her generosity in sharing her printables and her ideas.
The vintage coffee labels make we wanna’ Mod Podge everything in my house.
I printed my favorite images onto cardstock.


Oh, yea, another staple in my random crafting life.

The look of this vintage label on the black tin made me love, love, love coffee even more.

Because there were so many choices,
I added another vintage label to the opposite side of the can,
making it extra cool for those special people.

What special people am I crafting for?

The same  people who got this match box tin.

….stay tuned….

I have one more wedding present crafting to share with you…

…meanwhile, all these vintage coffee labels are making me crave a cuppa’ coffee…

What do Bad Breath and Matches Have in Common?

There are reasons people use breath mints.

We all know bad breath is #1 reason.
For coffee drinkers like moi, that’s a very good reason.

But this coffee-breath woman has another reason for devouring breath mints.

I love to make stuff outta’ the tins.
The company should make me a spokesmommy, seriously.

Take this very cool Mintz! box.

Add one can of this very nice spray paint to make the box black.

I used to use the stuff for $.88.  That was years ago. Ya’ get whatcha’ pay for.
This $4 a can stuff works really, really well.

Then travel to one of my favorite blog and print out some of these.
Cathe Holden is SO talented and so generous.  She offers a lot of free printables.

These vintage matchbooks are one of many freebies.  Cut out the one you want.

Use this to stick the cool label onto the black box.

End up with one very cool box that perfectly holds two boxes of matches.

‘Cuz ya’ need matches to light one of these.

This was one of the fun things I made for a very special couple…
…for a very special wedding gift…

…more coming…

….while ‘yer waiting for the other blog posts about the wedding gift,
take a hint and buy a box of Myntz! mints.

Seriously, ya’ NEED them, for two reasons.

What do Bad Breath and Matches Have in Common?

There are reasons people use breath mints.

We all know bad breath is #1 reason.

For coffee drinkers like moi, that’s a very good reason.

But this coffee-breath woman has another reason for devouring breath mints.

I love to make stuff outta’ the tins.

The company should make me a SpokesMommy, seriously.

Blogging Pics 048

Take this very cool Mintz! box.

Blogging Pics 098

Add one can of this very nice spray paint to make the box black.

I used to use the stuff for $.88. That was years ago. Ya’ get whatcha’ pay for.
This $4 a can stuff works really, really well.

Then travel to one of my favorite blog and print out some of these.
Cathe Holden is SO talented and so generous. She offers a lot of free printables.

These vintage matchbooks are one of many freebies. Cut out the one you want.

Wedding Crafts 012

Use this to stick the cool label onto the black box.

Blogging Pics 046

End up with one very cool box that perfectly holds two boxes of matches.


spring 078 - Copy

‘Cuz ya’ need matches to light one of these.

This was one of the fun things I made for a very special couple…
…for a very special wedding gift…

…more coming…

….while ‘yer waiting for the other blog posts about the wedding gift,
take a hint and buy a box of Myntz! mints.

Seriously, ya’ NEED them, for two reasons.

Meet Me in the Middle!

Finding the exact


can be a crucial life skill.

I grew up in a large family and we had to share a lot.
All the time.
Every day.

We agonized over trying to perfectly divide a stick of gum or can of pop.
My mom wisely ruled that the person who divides chooses last.
It prolonged the agony  and scrutiny of dividing,
but improved the chances of avoiding a major skirmish.

How about the agony of dividing the last piece of cake between two children?

Especially cake that looks this delicious.
You can thank my friend Cookie Baker Lynn for this picture,
she blogs about healthy food and stuff and she tells really funny stories.
Even though she knows I buy my birthday cakes from Safeway,
and they are filled with white sugar and white flour,
she still loves me anyway, ‘cuz we’re real live friends.

Anyhoo, back to dividing that piece of cake


That line that perfectly divides you from getting less
than the other person is a fine, important, life-changing line.

Americans love  fairness, equality, and our fair share.
There’s something perfect about finding the exact


It’s supposedly the place where everyone is happy.

Now a parent of many kids myself,
I find middle ground even more important.
My kids have to share alot.
All the time.
Every day.

The middle is  a meeting ground of fairness and justice,
where whining and whacking are not as vicious.

Where’s the important life-changing place
where the Lord meets us in the




verse of the Bible.

It’s stuck right between
Psalm 117, the shortest chapter in the Bible, and
Psalm 119, the longest chapter in the Bible.

This is the

middle ground

we should always take.

Not only is the Lord saying it’s better to trust in Him,
He’s assuring we CAN trust in Him.
All the time.
Every day.

In everything.  Every circumstance.  Every relationship.  Every lesson.  Every trial.

He met us in the


That line that perfectly divides us from getting less
than the other Person is a fine, important, life-changing line.

It’s a place where suddenly we don’t desire  fairness, equality, and our fair share,
because we get more than we deserved.

Bubba Leaves A Carbon Trail…

When the Lord transplanted us to the state of Washington, the self-proclaimed green state, we  learned a whole new language.  Suddenly, I had a whole bunch of new stuff to worry about, like carbon footprints and leaving a carbon trail.  In other words, we’re supposed to live in such a way that others that come behind us don’t know we were there.

My grandson, Brayden, better known as Bubba, is too recently transplanted from California to have adopted the new green lifestyle. Well, maybe his trail isn’t exactly a carbon one, but he definately leaves evidence of his presence everywhere.

There must have been some great excitement that caused Bubba to leave his prize possessions, his Wego Cwocs (Lego Crocs)  and his deet-dees(pacifiers), in a pile in the middle of the living room floor.

Maybe, he heard the magical popping sound of opening a cellophane bag, and he thought he might be fed something good, like potato chips or cookies.

It might have been the sudden urge to go find his gateburd (skateboard.)

The kitty might have run by and taunted Bubba with it’s flittering tail, begging to be chased.

 Wasn’t too hard to figure out who got into Aunty Beff’s gum. Bubba left another carbon trail.

This is Bubba, making  the Pirate Face.  Sometimes his little smirky smile and his wincing eye almost meet.  It’s adorable!  Along with missing Wego Cwocs  and deet-dees, there’s usually something that isn’t a toy that has captured his attention.  It might be a stick from a tent he fought pirates with, it might be a  paper towel  tube that was his spyglass, or a headless Lego man that has been his partner in adventure.

This little guy also leaves a trail of giggles, sticky kisses, neck scrunching hugs and lingering secrets of “I Wuv U.”  The trail he leaves behind is endearing, because he is so loved and so loveable.  The trail leaves behind tells of the adventure he had that day and indicates what sparked his imagination.

Bubba’s trail made me think of the trail I’m leaving behind.

I want to leave behind precious memories, inspiring faith, enduring love and abounding joy.  But to LEAVE that, I have to LIVE it.  My life’s prayer is sung  by Steve Green.


(singing starts at 2:22)

Find Us Faithful

We’re pilgrims on the journey of the narrow road
And those who’ve gone before us line the way
Cheering on the faithful, encouraging the weary
Their lives a stirring testament to God’s sustaining grace

Surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses
Let us run the race not only for the prize
But as those who’ve gone before us Let us leave to those behind us
The heritage of faithfulness Passed on through godly lives
Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful
May the fire of our devotion light their way
May the footprints that we leave Lead them to believe
And the lives we live inspire them to obey
Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful
After all our hopes and dreams have come and gone
And our children sift through all we’ve left behind
May the clues that they discover And the memories they uncover
Become the light that leads them To the road we each must find

Repeat Chorus Twice
Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful
Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful

What kind of trail would YOU like to leave behind?

‘Cuz Quitters Quit

Like a mirage in the desert, my Dream-Come-True loomed in the distance.
I almost started running.

Remembering my manners, after all I was with my Mom, who taught me manners,
and my daughter Rebekah, who I am supposed to be teaching manners,
I kept my pace to a really fast walk.

 Lightly kicking dirt in their faces,  I arrived at my destination.

While patiently waiting in line I quickly removed my chunky, awesome necklace
purchased from Kim’s Marina and braided my hair.

Again, that manner things was on display, and I couldn’t whine or fuss or pout.

I filled out a form, but refused to give my age.

Yes, I actually penned in all capital letters,

“I’m not telling!”




Although I certainly wasn’t a candidate to join the Montana Army National Guard,
they let me climb at the Last Chance Stampede in Helena.
Maybe they knew my little brother Allan is a civilian hot shot on their base
and builds lotsa’ stuff for them.
Maybe they knew my older brother Lee began his career in the National Guard
and became an Airborne Ranger.
Or maybe they just wanted something to laugh about during their next Weekend Warrior Drill.

picture 2

It didn’t take me long before I Cinderellaed my flip-flops
with the floofy black flowers and attacked those rocks
with toes blinged out with Purple Passion and white flower decals.

I shoulda’ had Beka take a picture of my toes, they were cute.


Good thing those jeans weren’t just cotton.  The spandex helped me to


out for the next footing.

I was in the groove and on the move.

If you had looked up AMAZING in the dictionary at that moment,
I’m pretty sure this picture would be in the definition.

Like a high school senior,
I was achieving what I had dreamed.


The trickery of the builders was unfolding,
because I realized the higher you climb,
the harder it is.

Is that really fair?

For the first time in my life, I wished I hadn’t grown my fingernails to talon length.
It was hard to grip the rocks when there were no indentures on the top.


I paused long enough to instruct Rebekah to be sure and get a SIDE VIEW not an UNDER VIEW.
The harness is the least flattering fashion accessory a woman could wear.

The climbing continued to get harder and harder as I got higher and higher.

Then, I remembered,
I’m afraid of heights.

Panic set in.
After a few moments, a few feet from the top, I was getting a little shaky from exertion.
I caved and stopped.
The descent couldn’t be fast enough for me.

But, I still felt good about what I had almost accomplished.

Afterall, I reasoned to myself, I nearly made it to the top.
That’s pretty good for someone my age….
…with cancer…
…who’s always tired…
…and has lost her strength….
…who’s too lazy to work out…

Doesn’t that face just say, “I am SO done with this?”

As I walked away, I was high on the memory of FINALLY being able to climb a rock wall.

Then it hit me.

I quit.

Only quitters quit.
(Name that movie!)

Instead of digging in deep when it got tuff,
I quit.
I didn’t push myself,
I didn’t Go For It,
I didn’t Go for the Gusto,
I didn’t Just Do It,
I didn’t follow any of the advertising slogans that have motivated for years.

I just quit.

I quit because I was tired and scared.

The worst part was realizing I would never have that chance again.
That moment could never be relived, I could never conquer that fake mountain.

All the


I gave for quitting, should have been the


I kept going.

A study on rock climbing technique quickly became a self-evaluating psycho session.
Ignoring my mom and daughter and my manners, I walked quietly with nothing to say for myself.

There are several other things on my Bucket List I haven’t accomplished,
many of them due to fear.

You haven’t seen my books on the library shelves, have you?
Oh, that’s right, I haven’t finished any of them.

Whether it’s personal goals or spiritual goals, it’s hard to finish.

That’s why the Lord admonishes us to
“finish the course”
“press on”
“do not grow weary”.

(click on links to read entire verses)

He knows our human weakness in staying on a difficult path.

By the grace of God,
I never again want to be the

Quitter that Quits.

Gunna’ sharpen my pencil and my perseverance.
Time to conquer some of those goals that loom in the distance like a mirage.

I Served Garbage for Breakfast

Earlier in the week I confessed I pick my scabs.
I have another confession to make.

I fed my kids and grandkids garbage for breakfast.

It wasn’t organic,
free range,
or healthy.

It was just pure,
delicious garbage.

Sugar Cereal

Health conscience people are thinking,
You DID NOT feed your kids that garbage!”

Sugar freaks are thinking,
“Momma Mindy, why didn’t you invite me to breakfast?

Since you are all judging me,
I know you are because I would be judging you
if I found out you fed your kids this garbage,
but hang with me.
I have a good reason.
A spiritual reason.

I’m the worstest Gwamma in the whole wide world.

I’m the worstest Mommy in the whole wide world.

Look, an avid cereal box reader!
Wasn’t that one of the best parts of having what my kids wrongfully labeled
“the good cereal?”

Wheaties and Rice Krispies might taste good and be good for you,
but the boxes were boring.

Anyhoo, back to my true confession
and my spiritual reason.

This is My Romans 7 Rule.

The Law and Sin (New International Version)

…sinful passions are aroused by the law…

I would not have known what sin was had it not been for the law.

15  what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.

16 And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good.

18 For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature.  For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.


Here’s the Momma Mindy Version:

People wanna’ do what they’re told not to do.
They know what’s right, but can’t do it on their own.

That’s why I had such a hard time coming up with
Rules for Our House.

Rules are good, but they do make people wanna’ break them.
Law incites riots, even around your dining room table.

So, I became tricky.

Instead of saying, “We’ll never drink soda again,”
I  stopped buying it.

My children weren’t warned about white bread,
it just stopped showing up.
First the bread became darker,
then the bagels and English muffins,
then the hot dog and hamburger buns.

Cereals gradually becamer nuttier, grainier and fibier,
(these are my new words for more grain and  fiber)
crackers and nuts replaced chips, and
dried fruit appeared in snack jars.

Romans 7 Rule – Section One

I never say never.

NEVER incites riots and longing of unbelievable proportions.
Even if they hated Captain Crunch before,
they CRAVE it the moment it’s banned.

Foods aren’t outlawed, they just aren’t purchased.
They’ll be served at homes of friends and relatives,
and I want them to eat what’s set before them with thankfulness.
(No food allergies in our family so we can do this.)

If we’re eating according to my standards at home,
but eat a few random hotdogs with nitrates
and Diet Cokes with McDonalds, it  won’t hurt them.

Romans 7 Rule – Section Two

Daddy Overrules Mommy’s Rule

Like many Dads, my hubby loves buying snacks and pop for our kids.
He even fed them cake for breakfast once.
Yes he did, and the kids still love gloating over this event.

I  don’t restrict my husband.
He respects and encourages the health changes,  and I let him randomly buy garbage.
It’s a good balance.

Romans 7 Rule – Section Three

Kids Can Never Say Never

Once my kids say
“I never”  I pay attention.

I learned long ago  Satan loves to wedge these words between kids and parents.

A new believer fervent for Jesus and the Bible,
I was working as a Resident Assistant in a college girls’ dorm.
When sharing my testimony with one of the residents,
she regretfully confessed she was raised in a Christian home.
Her whinings often began,
“I never got to…”

Her grievous  litany against her parents was long, and all the worldly things they faithfully
shielded and protected her from, she chased after.

There are some things, by the grace of God, I can never allow my children to do.
But, I know that too many “I nevers” can burden them with undue law.
So, if it isn’t a compromise to the Word of God, when I hear
I might do it once,
just so they don’t have so many

When my kids were feeling sad they NEVER had Easter baskets,
we celebrated Easter. We explained our reasoning why we didn’t,
but that it wasn’t sin to do so.

When my youngest daughter proclaimed,
“I’ve NEVER had Fruit Loops,”
I stepped into Romans 7 action.

Along with Fruit Loops, I bought others she’d NEVER tried.

Yep, I did, I served garbage for breakfast.

I can compromise on cereal,
because I will never compromise on the True Food,
the Word of God.

Do You Pick Your Scabs?

As a sister wedged between two older brothers and one younger one,
I didn’t have a Princess type upbringing.
It was rough and tumble, as I kept up  with the boys and their adventures.

I learned I couldn’t fly off the front porch like Superman, and still have the scar on my chin to prove it.

I learned to throw rocks like a boy, and my sister still has a scar on her chin to prove it.

I learned to ride a bike down the steep 5th Avenue in Helena, Montana,
and still have the scuffed up knees to prove it.

My knees might have healed better, if I hadn’t always picked at my scabs.
I couldn’t help it.

The scabs started to dry around the edges and my little fingers,
with dirt under each fingernail, would have to just start
and eventually
pick the whole scab off and start the bleeding process all over.

I know, disgusting, right?
My dear mother not only tried to keep me from danger,
she tried to keep me from causing further harm to myself.
I know she told me not to pick my scabs over and over,
I just couldn’t stop.

Doesn’t that scab just look perfect for picking?

As an adult, I still pick scabs.
I know, gross, right?
Only now they’re on my heart and not my knees.

Just as I am beginning to heal and trust the Lord for a trial He’s allowed,
I begin picking at the edges with lack of faith and questions.

Why did you allow this?

I previously blogged it’s OK to ask the Lord WHY,
but after He’s answed, we believe and don’t ask again.

This isn’t fair!

That’s right, we deserve so much worse.

Why do things keep happening to me?

I can’t handle this Lord!

This Lord promises and provides His presence, His power and His peace.

The real question is~
why do we hinder healing by reliving the agonies of previous victories?

Sometimes, it’s a little overwhelming to know that apart from a miracle,
my cancer most likely will not be cured.
It isn’t always easy to accept that an Innocent Man is in jail.
There are even times when I weep over wrongs that happened years ago.

I’m a big girl.
I should know better.

Those wounds were cleansed by the blood of Jesus,
He carried me safely through the flames,
and He spoke peace to my heart.

There is no reason to relive the agony,
I should only be praising Him and thanking Him
for His presence during the trials.

I gotta’ grow up and stop picking at those scabs.

Our Hearts Are Full

Yesterday, I mentioned my son got married.

I know, pinch me, I still find it hard to believe.

Daniel fell in love with Sarah.

Sarah was my friend first.

I was her camp counsellor.

At the end of two weeks bunking side by side, she said to me,
“Mrs. Peltier, I really like you, but I

your son, Daniel.”

I figured she would outgrow it.

I was right.

tee hee

For the rehearsal dinner, I wanted something symbolic showing the
combining of two lives into one, but had no inspiration until I stopped at a garage sale.

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve loved hearts.

Maybe, it’s because of a treasure I found in a Montanan ghost town as a kid.
It was jelly jar  pristine condition, covered with perfect red hearts.

Back to inspiration. It was a rainy, gray, drizzly summer day
(what other kind of summer days do we have in Seattle?)
and I just HAD to stop at a garage sale.
I just HAD to dig around in the boxes under the table because I wasn’t interested in stuff on the table.


The price was reasonable, but I still had to run home for money.

Who carries cash anymore?
And who knows the secret to hiding cash from your kids?
As soon as I have some cash, somebody needs it for something.

Once home, I still had to borrow money from my nine year old.
Now my daughter is wondering the secret to hiding cash from her parents.

 Ain’t she sweet?

I added scrapbook paper from Michaels, 5 for $1.

Of course, I already owned heart punches.

My cuttlebug crafted me through Graduation last year, remember?

I made lotsa stuff.

At another garage sale, on another rainy day, I was rummaging around overflowing tables
under a blue tarp bulging with water.
All I could fit in a bag for $5 included an ENTIRE Cuttlebug alphabet.
I was thrilled.  I was gunna’ say exstatic, but I wasn’t sure how to spell it.

 Modge Podge is my new best friend.

Can’t forget my best project resource, my loverly daughters,
Bethany and Jana.

Ain’t they sweet?

Actually, they’re not sweet yet…

….gotta’ fill ’em with…

The groom’s favorite candy – SKITTLES.

The bride’s favorite candy – SOUR PATCH KIDS.

The symbolism was perfect.

Dan and Sarah will continue  to become one
in their faith, habits, ministry, finances, and  their home.

They will encounter sour patches in their life,
tempered with sweetness.

But may their hearts always be full.

Where in the World was Momma Mindy?

I never enjoyed reading those blog posts that began, “I’m sorry I disappeared for awhile, but I was…..”

But, now I have to write one of those blog posts that begin, “I’m sorry I disappeared for awhile, but I was….”







If there’s one thing I finally learned, you can’t be Super Woman every day of your life.  When  juggling the events of your life, you eventually will drop a few things.  Things you love to do, things you want to do and things you need to do. Things like blogging.

You just can’t do it all.

So, you choose, or life chooses for you.

Back to where have I been?

On a spiritual journey.

Every summer for the past 12 years, my husband has been preaching at this summer camp in the woods of Minnesota.  Should I add mosquito infested woods?

He started attending as a child because his mom made him. He was a troubled, angry kid trying to survive his parents’ divorce.  In need of relief, his mom shipped him off to this camp for two weeks because it was free. She never had to make him go back again, he loved Bible camp.

Yea, the camp is free.  It runs on faith and faith sustains. Faith also saves.  After four years of attending camp, Scott trusted Christ as his Lord and Savior. That’s what makes preaching there even more special, he was born-again there and helps bring others into new life in Christ  by preaching the Gospel.

It’s been our thrill and delight to travel from Seattle to Duluth each summer to join the dear  midwest believers in ministering the Gospel. OK, not every part of the 1665 mile trip is thrilling and delighting, but camp is always worth the trip.

After a long year of homeschooling, I’m always tired.  This past year we’ve had a lot of serious trials, so I had spiritual fatigue in addition to physical fatigue. But, every year we make the trip and I am reminded that serving is what restores me to face another year.

After our week with the junior high kids, our son got married in Minneapolis, Minnesota.  Then, hubby flew to Georgia for business while Beka and I stayed at Story Book so she could be a camper for the






Beka and I traveled home, visiting friends and relatives in MN, ND, MT and ID.  It would have been easier to blog as I traveled, as I have in the past, but this year I wasn’t SUPER MOM.  I was just one tired mom who needed to spend time with the women who have impacted my life.  I arrived back in Seattle with a bajillion bugs plastered on the outside of my husband’s car, vintage stuff PACKED in inside the car, and a heart refreshed for another year.

My husband got the car washed, I’m almost unpacked, so it’s time to get back to blogging…….