Tangled Party

So our sweet friends threw a Tangled theme party for their 5-year-old Maddie. Because I am me, I inserted myself into the gift bag situation. Here's what we did (not a lot of photos in this post, but I wanted to list the resources in case anyone was looking for non-Party-City Tangled ideas.)

I sewed up some muslin drawstring bags (like what I did for Dash's Harry Potter party). I used this iron-on image for the girls:


And this one for the boys:We made Shrinky Dink necklaces for the girls from this printable on the Disney site. We strung them from pink leather cords I found at the craft store, and mounted them on cardstock printed with this image:

For the boys, I sewed up some of Flynn Rider's arrows from this awesome tutorial (he used arrows to help him climb up the tower. You know, in case you forgot).

I made tags from this image, printed onto card stock:


All the kids got little pots of paint and mini canvases. I made tags for those with this image:

All the kids also got a rolled up "Wanted" poster to color.


And, finally, there were a ton of babies at the party, too. And each baby got one of these:

Get it? Cuz the pub in the movie was called the Snuggly Duckling. I freeballed the pattern, just kinda making it up as went along.

OK. The end. Holler if you have questions.

Update: I've received some requests for the Snuggly Duckling image, so I posted it below.

Uncomfortable

I've always been a little bewildered by people who say, "do the thing that scares you." Seriously? The entire concept makes absolutely no sense to me. I mean, I get the concept of doing something despite the fact that it scares me (childbirth, that first crack of lobster shell) because I want the end result (horrible child who keeps calling me "chubby," sweet, sweet lobster meat). But the guy who's all, "hey! I'm scared of heights therefore gonna climb something!" Yeah, I'm not down with that guy.

BUT! I am just starting to come around to the idea of doing something that makes me uncomfortable, just to see if I can. Put myself out there. Why not? I'm almost forty, what do I have to lose?

So check it:

1. I'll be entering a jam in the Ventura County Fair this summer (been gathering up recipes to test and am super-excited to report back).

2. Running a 5k on May 15. Me. Running. (If you know me, you're laughing right now.) I'm on week three of Couch to 5K. I suck at it so, so bad. But I'm not giving up. It's on the life list, yo.

On Not Aging Gracefully

Dashstronaut


Bluebirds of happiness

Nuestra Casa Es Su Casa

House tour? No? Too bad:

Pig!


What is this room called? Sitting room? Living room? Waste of space?


That wall where the plates are hanging is curved & gave me hives trying to figure out what to do there. I'm pretty impressed with my solution.


Money shot.


This is a pin Josh bought me. I used to wear it on my peacoat, but the antlers kept snagging on everything. So I mounted it onto a piece of inky blue wool felt in an embroidery hoop. Art!


Hall of Shame


Jen bought us this porcelain gnome lamp as a housewarming gift. Is there anything better than having friends who really, really understand you?


I love this kitchen, but looking at this picture makes me feel about 70 years old. Is it weird that I have this many roosters?


Family room.


NORGE!


This is the crazy rose-papered guest bath. A normal person would just tear down the wallpaper & start over, but I have grown completely obsessed with it.


I wanted cheeseball Thomas Kinkade-style art in there, but I needed it to wink a little. I may own thirty seven ceramic roosters, but I'm not quite ready to embrace cottage paintings unironically. Probably soon, though.


Other side of the bathroom. I never realized there was such an abundance of robot-invasion-countryside-art.


This is Dash's room, my favorite in the house.


We got him a junior loft bed (not quite as high off the ground as a regular loft bed, but high enough to create a play space underneath.)


I sewed up some striped curtains that he can pull closed to make a secret fort when he feels the urge. Underneath, Josh strung up some Christmas lights that he put on a timer. They act as lighting for when he's under there, or as a nightlight at bedtime.


The costume rack.


I made these valances from a vintage Peter Pan sheet I bought from Etsy a year ago. It's totally '80s cheese, but Dash and I agree that it's totally tubular.


Dash's crapper, featuring the world's most hilarious shower curtain.


Here's our bedroom that looks almost identical to our old bedroom.


Here's our shower. Let me know if you want to come over and just rub your butt all over the tile. I totally get it. Not pictured: spa tub. Sorry.

Fin.

Really?

Really, Josh? When you're married to Liz Engel, the world's most enthusiastic party-thrower, you thought all you'd get for your 40th was a fist bump and a steak dinner?

Well fuck that noise.

What he got for his massive accomplishment of surviving--intact--40 years, was a bangin' surprise party at The Stand. All of our very best friends and their kids came out, hid in the bushes and scared the ever-loving shit out of sweet Josh when they jumped out, yelling "surprise!" And then we all raised a dog in his honor, because he deserves it. Because he is made of awesome. Because he is one of the greatest husbands, fathers, humans to walk the Earth.

Here are the only four pics taken that night (all swiped from friends' Facebooks & cell phones. Because I can throw a surprise party for 30 without spilling the beans, but I can't remember to take out the camera even one time at said party.)

Josh & his oldest friends, known since middle school.


Us. (Oh, did I mention that earlier in the day we got all tatted up? Deets tomorrow).


Here he's either blowing out his candles or moving in to kiss Doug. Either scenario is perfectly reasonable.


I love how surprised he looks here. Like, "Tattoo!? Who? Me?!"

Tri Tri

Check it, the old man found two additional lunatics to do a triathlon with him!

Here's the brand-spanking-new 40-year-old. (They write your age on your calf. Mostly so that when I'm sitting at the sidelines eating Girl Scout cookies and watching 68-year-old men run past me I can feel extra ashamed).


Here's lunatic number two, Doug Odom. (Hey, here's a funny story! When we found our new house & were driving away after signing all the paperwork, we realized that our great-good-friends the Odoms lived just a block away! Now we're neighbors! It's awesome.) Anyway, this was Doug's first triathlon & he finished in 1 hour, 29 minutes. So Josh is no longer speaking to him. I kid, I kid.


And, finally, lunatic number three, Cathy. Cathy is the mother of one of my top 10 favorite humans, Ava. Ava is 5 going on 27. She is made entirely of awesome (as is her mom, of course).


Anyways, y'all know the drill. There was some of this (Josh is the hot one in the white cap).


Some of this. (That's Josh's new bike, Pettzetina, that he got for Christmas for being a good boy all year long. Isn't she purty?)


And some of this. Ugh, my lungs ache just thinking about it.


The kids made signs to root on the athletes. (Dash's pet name for Josh is Zaza. I know.)


Here they are all together. The two on the left are Doug & Lisa's kids, Colin & Maddie. I die. The one on the right is their niece. Right?


Here he is after crossing the finish. I kid, but seriously, I couldn't be prouder of Josh. I can't even imagine what it must be like to do this THREE TIMES!


And, because running this particular triathlon seems to be turning into a tradition, we all had dinner again at the Hog's Breath, to celebrate the athletes & Josh's birthday. Did I mention he's FORTY?

40

Ooooh shit! Look who turned 40!

And now, just to shame us all, he's gonna run a triathlon (his 3rd) tomorrow.

Happy birthday, Silver Fox. You are the wind beneath our wings.

Cudd-ohs

Listen, we moved house & I'm gonna get to it. But in the meantime, here:

This is Cuddles. He came to us as a gift when we adopted a tiger through the World Wildlife Fund.

Dash has always been an animal lover, but his affinity for tigers (stuffed and otherwise) is uncanny.