Cricut Access Challenge: Quick Cut Valentines

When I first started Cricut-ing many years ago, I immediately stopped buying greeting cards.

Back then I was a *big* greeting card buyer and easily spent hundreds of dollars every year in cards.

Suddenly having a Cricut was my reason to abandon that practice and make the cards myself.

Only…I didn’t.

I became so paralyzed with fear that my cards weren’t going to be “good enough” or “pretty enough” or “insert whatever reason here” that I just stopped sending cards.

It wasn’t until I realized that a homemade card is 100 times better than any store bought card that I began sending my greetings out again, which has rekindled my love of sending greetings.

Are you like me? Are you afraid that your work won’t be good enough? Or worse yet, have you left your Cricut in the Box because your afraid you won’t be able to create something?

If so, you aren’t alone. Every day I hear from Cricut owners that are afraid to show off their work. Or users that won’t even try.

Listen! Everyone has to start at the beginning. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. We are all “newbies” at one time. Don’t be afraid to try, but also don’t pile on huge expectations at first. Start small and slow. Cherish your first attempts. You will soon be making amazing things and you can look back on your beginning projects with appreciation.

But the bottom line is you have to take that first step!

So, please, take that machine out of the box and make something simple–like these quick cut cards.

Today’s Cricut Access Challenge is a bunch of very easy, quick cut cards suitable for Valentine’s Day or everyday.

Each card in the file is perfectly sized, so no fuss for you. Just pick out a few sheets of paper—any color will do!–and hit “Make”!

Within a few minutes you’ll have a half dozen cards in your little arsenal.

And, more importantly, you will have accomplished something.

Build on that!!

Remember this: “Every journey begins with the first step!” Here’s your first step.

Now, go forth and Cricut!

Here’s the pin to the project:
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/273030796146030429/

Here’s the link to Cricut Community:
https://design.cricut.com/#/landing/user-project/124557212

Best always,

Miss Rita

Please note: This post may contain affiliate links, which means if you click on one of my links and buy something I will receive a small commission from your purchase. Thank you for using my links as this is how I support myself and keep MO in pickles and Ted E. Bear in chew toys–they both are insatiable!

But seriously….I do so appreciate your continued support!

Here is my affiliate link:  https://www.shareasale.com/u.cfm?d=327204&m=51766&u=1089398

Remember if your order exceeds $50 and you use my code MISSRITA1 and link, you will receive an extra 10% off and free shipping on most items!  My code will *not* work for Access Subscriptions or machines (anything that plugs in).

 

Leftovers

Let’s talk leftovers.

I came from a far away place called the 70’s. During that time, most moms were “stay at home” and many didn’t have cars. Our moms did their marketing once a week and usually purchased enough for breakfast, lunch and supper for the entire family, which usually included a special meal for Sunday after church. Yes, in that far away place, we all went to church on Sunday morning, even if you weren’t feeling like it!

We rarely went out to eat as this was reserved for “special occasions”. Furthermore, the idea of “ordering out” was just foreign to those of us that came from the 70’s…and I am being totally serious here! On rare occasions, my dad might suggest getting a pizza–for example, if it was just “too hot to cook”–but, even then, he would drive to the local pizzeria, order and bring it home. Keep in mind microwave ovens were just being introduced in most homes then and they were still strange and possibly dangerous, too. One of my neighbors insisted that we do not stand in front of theirs while it was “in use” because, well, “radiation”.

The 70’s was a strange place, indeed. 😉

But–getting back to my point–when I was growing up, food came from your kitchen and was usually produced by moms. Sometimes you’d be lucky and have a mom that was a really good cook or even a bit inventive. Sometimes not. Sometimes moms would have a rotating schedule, similar to a school lunch menu, but usually without an alternate. Your alternate was “take it or leave it” usually. My point being she would churn it out and we would all sit and eat at the same time…no tv, no devices, just conversation and eating. Isn’t that weird?

Invariably there were leftovers. Sometimes it would be just a tiny amount of food, but it was food and we never threw it out; it would be saved. Maybe it would be a spoonful of peas & carrots. A slice of ham wrapped in tinfoil, perhaps. Occasionally there might be some rice no one could eat.

And we kept it all! What’s weird is we never ate these leftovers the next day, because it was Wednesday and it was spaghetti day. So she would collect all these bits of leftovers in tiny Tupperware or Pyrex fridge containers, which would sit in the fridge for a couple of days. And, on Saturday, she would take all the leftovers and heat everything up to go with our hamburgs (you heard me…that’s what we called them) which were cooked in the broiler on a tinfoil wrapped broiler pan that no one liked to clean. It was a potluck of sorts and, I have to tell you, it was our version of being adventurous.

These days I am hearing and seeing dinner being handled in far different ways and it’s sort of scary and strange. What about the leftovers? Where are those weekly “pot lucks” of days gone by? Do people actually throw food away now? What do you eat with your Saturday night Hamburgs?

As a single mom of one child, I must admit I have struggled with the idea of “family meals”. It seems odd making a full meal that your child won’t eat and I have no desire to eat what he does most of the time. Lately I might cook something big–like a pot of soup–and eat that every night for a week, while–at the same time–being a short order cook for MO. It sort of works for us right now, but it does change my ingrained beliefs about leftovers.

I suppose that’s why I get really excited when Thanksgiving or Christmas rolls around. Suddenly I can have a conversation with an adult! I can show off my culinary skills! I can have…LEFTOVERS!

My Little Fat Corgi

I’m a big fan of corgis.

You know?  Those short dogs. The ones that look like midget dogs?  The ones that the Queen has?

Right!! Those dogs!

Yes, that’s as tall as they are going to get.  Yes, it’s completely normal.

Yes, sometimes they have tails and sometimes they don’t.  The ones with the tails are called Cardigans and the ones without are called Pembroke.  Most of the tail-less ones are born that way, but sometimes they have nubs.  And it doesn’t make any difference to me if they have a tail or not!

I love corgis of all kinds, colors, tail or no tail. I adore anything corgi related.  I tweet “corgi alerts”. I search Target for corgi ornaments.  I own corgi socks, and pillows, and shirts and even an umbrella.  I even have make corgi bumper stickers.

Corgis are a “thing” on the internet these days.

Of course, they should be.

If you haven’t ever known one, I know you are probably saying I’m just being a breed snob or something, but I am really not.

To coin a phrase: “Once you go corgi, you never go back!”  Well.  It’s the truth.  I’m just pointing it out.

It’s so important to me that you know, too, that I was into corgis before they were an “internet sensation”.  I’ve been living with corgis since before the millennium.

So, ya, a long time.

But for those of you that are sort of new to the breed, please don’t call my corgi “fat”!

It’s like openly calling a person’s child fat, which I’m sure you don’t do. Right?

I know some people can’t help themselves.  I know some mean it in a loving way, like my neighbor did.  Some people even prefer their corgis fat.

But it really hurts my feelings when I’m walking my weight-challenged corgi, Odie, and someone points out how HUGE he is.  Or maybe they compare him to my corgi puppy, Ted E. Bear, who is gorgeous and sleek and perfectly shaped. Or they see how he really does waddle like a penguin.

It hurts my feelings, because some people don’t know Odie’s story.

They don’t know how Odie couldn’t even walk up stairs when he first arrived.  Or how hard it has been trying to get him to take a walk with me.

Most don’t know Odie was dropped off here severely overweight for “just a few months”.  But then the few months became 9 months.  Then a year.  Then maybe not until 2016.  So…basically abandoned.

Until I couldn’t watch him struggle anymore and asked my friends from Corgi Nation for help. Together with Faith Bark, Corgi Nation came through for me as they do for hundreds of other corgis.  Through Faith Bark’s “Bandit’s Band-aid” program, many friends of Corgi Nation contributed so I could have Odie get medical attention.

Yes, those are really groups.  Corgi Nation–or CN, for short–is as big and weird and fun and sometimes even a little coarse as the beloved Red Sox Nation.  Dare I say it?  Maybe even stronger?

We corgi lovers are a varied but vast team of people that live across the nation and around the world.

We send hundreds of Christmas cards to each other each year…with our corgis pictures on them, of course!

Yes, Corgi Nation is probably responsible for keeping the USPS afloat these past five years or so.

And, yes, I am being completely serious!

Except for my friends in Corgi Nation and a few select other “real life people” (hate that…having to separate my friends into online or “real life” status) most people don’t know a few other key details.

They don’t know that, only a few months after Odie came to visit, I lost my sweetest friend, Ollie, a corgi (of course).  A rescued corgi, too, with medical issues.  Oliver…my “dandy” with the glamour coat.  The corgi that gave Master Owen his official “Master” status.

Then–only four months later in March of this year–I lost my girl, Beatrice.  Yes, of course, she was a corgi, too.

Bea was also a rescue.  She was so sassy we had to give her the title of “The Queen Bea”, which she embodied until the day she died. Complications from an infection, which she got because she had diabetes.  Diabetes that took her sight and made me give her insulin for several years.

Yes, The Queen Bea was mostly blind in the end and, yes, fat.  But she was so sassy and royal, it hardly bothered me when people would say so.  She wore her fatness like the crown she was born to wear.

Anyway…I digress.

I’m not sure why it hurts so much when folks call Odie “fat”.

Maybe it’s because I’ve had too many losses the past couple of years. Maybe I feel bad for him. Maybe I wonder how anyone would ever abandon a corgi…ever.

Maybe it’s just because I’ve been working so hard with him.

You know, he is making progress.  Today he lifted his leg to pee on a hydrant.  Today he walked a little further.

Maybe folks don’t see it.  Maybe they just see a waddling, short dog and think it’s funny.

I don’t.

I see a dog that had the rug pulled out from under him and is still trying to work on his problems anyway.

I see a dog who gets up every day–even if he is sore and super hungry and tired of eating green beans with his quarter cup of kibble–and tries to be better.  Tries not to eat the puppy’s leftovers.  Looks at me with adoring eyes, because he knows I understand.

Maybe, just maybe, I see myself in my little, fat corgi…

.

“Everything’s Broken”

This morning, as we were waiting for the school bus, Master Owen (MO) was looking sullen.  He does not like school, so this was not an unusual look for him at that hour, but it “felt” different to me.  Flipping through some conversation ideas, I started asking him questions about his upcoming birthday.  He is turning 10–double digits!–next week and I’ve been trying to come up with a plan for celebrating, which has been difficult due to his dislike of typical birthday celebrations (more on that another time).

Head hanging low, he barely replied to my question.  Something, indeed, was bothering him, so I tried to look busy while he figured out what he wanted to say.  I’m glad I did.  Eventually MO said: “I hate my life”.  Instead of negating his feelings, I inquired about why he felt this way.  His response: “Everything’s broken.”

Why–you might ask–would I be happy to hear him say this?  For one, because MO is autistic, he usually has difficulty putting his feelings into words, but not this morning.  In addition, because I am an Aspie, I knew exactly what he was feeling and it is something I have struggled with all my life: change.

Well before I was diagnosed with Asperger’s, I recognized how much I disliked change.  I have always desired sameness in my life and any changes that took place set me back tremendously; some changes–even things that have taken place years ago–I still cannot accept.

Yes, I know, change is life, change is growth.  But there has always been something in my brain that wants to keep everything static.  I secretly desire to live in one of those Twilight Zone episodes, where the main character goes about their life exactly the same way every day.  I want to live in a little miniature train set town.  I want to know everything is where I left it.  I don’t want anyone to die or move away or become something other than the role that they have established in my life–teacher, parent, friend, lover.

If something changes, I perceive it as broken.  I want it to be “fixed” and I simply cannot accept it.  I obsess over the change and remind people of how it “used to be”.  It’s never the same.  Sameness is important to me, which is why I completely understand MO’s thought pattern:  life is full of broken things that we cannot put back together.

The Hilltop Steak House–where I once celebrated my marriage–has been leveled and I will never again see the cement cows grazing on the front lawn.  Drugs and alcohol have forever changed MO’s dad from the father he once perceived him to be.  No matter how hard we wish for it, neither MO or I will ever be able to bring my father or our beautiful, loving dog, the Queen Bea, back to us.  These things are broken and unfixable and, yes, it is depressing.  Seriously…how do “normal” people adjust?

In a tiny way I’m happy, because I now have someone who feels the same as I do. (LOL…feels “the same”!)   Change stinks.  It’s awful.  It creates in us such extreme anxiety for what once was.  Yes, change is going to happen, but I don’t have to accept it.

I’m sure there’s some lesson in all this….I’m just not sure what it is.  Until I find out, I will continue on with my anxiety…only now I have someone who completely understands how I’ve felt my entire life.