Template Tuesday

Actually I think it's Wednesday, but I haven't been to bed yet. Still helping DH with work.

Here's this week's template:

You can download it here: http://www.4shared.com/file/78309580/5d5eb0cc/template_6.html

My layout:

This is something silly my Dad says to the question "Why?" He's said it for a long time. The story is about a hike that the family took last summer: 17 people ages 6 months to 63 years.

And the final draft...

It's as if those last seven days never happened...

Here's the final draft after submitting my writing to my editor (It does help to have someone read your work--someone who can tell you the parts that don't make sense or don't flow--even gramatical errors--AND especially if they can make suggestions to fix things. Find a writing buddy to help with this part--thankfully I have my sister--who obviously did not proof this paragraph :) )

I hopped out of bed and flew through the morning routine, singing my way around the kitchen. Finally. TODAY, I could start putting the rock on the house. Before I knew it, I was on the porch roof doing the prep work. Sweating, I wrestled with the long sheets of black tar paper and unruly chicken wire. I was as determined to finish prepping quickly as the chicken-wire was determined to stay in a curled up roll. It took most of the morning to prep for the upper level rock…frustration. But now it was FINALLY time to put the rock on! With slightly renewed vigor, I loaded the tractor bucket with an assortment of rock sizes and colors and maneuvered it into place. I mixed my first batch of cement to attach the rocks and crawled out onto the porch to begin—just as it began to rain. Determined, I started anyway. It wasn’t raining THAT hard. I was working on the south side of the upper level portion, right under the valley of the front roof. Before I’d finished even three rocks, the run-off from most of the south side of the roof was pouring down on me. Dejectedly I gathered my tools and the cement and crawled back inside to wait out the rain.
After a couple of hours the sun came out. To learn the “trade”, I’d helped the Welkers with their rock work—square rocks only. I thought arranging my round rocks would be simple—compared to the Welker’s but it soon proved difficult to find rocks to fit. Nevertheless, I was excited as I quickly finished the south side—about 5 square feet. It looked so awesome! Now for the mortar. Even with Dave’s special tools, I just couldn’t get the sticky cement to stay in place! I worked near the top—but it didn’t look any better. I worked near the bottom—still no improvement. The fast-drying cement seemed to be sucking all the happiness out of me! I wanted so badly for my mortar to be smooth and beautiful, but I just couldn’t make it look right. The 1100 more square feet of rock that was all going to be a mess seemed to squash any determination I had left. The more I messed with it, the worse it looked—there were gaps around the rocks and the cement was far from smooth. I crumpled in my still damp clothes and cried. I called Dave (my husband) who called Dave (my contractor) who didn’t have time to do it, nor did we have the money to pay him. But he did offer to teach me AGAIN. I had dried my tears and slowly begun attaching rocks to the front of the house when he found the time to come teach me. It made a lot more sense as we worked on it together and I quickly caught on to how to seal the concrete to the edges of each rock and then smooth everything out. My spirits soared as I watched it come together right before my eyes. After school, Dad came to help. I was working up high, with room on the ladder for only 2 or 3 rocks. That meant I was traversing the ladder every couple of minutes to haul more rocks. Having him hand me rocks in the right color and shape sped up the process drastically. Every so often we switched places.Then next morning I didn’t hop out of bed. I was still excited about the rock, but my arms felt as if they might fall off. Too much lifting 50 lb bags of mortar mix, and 35 lb buckets of cement, but mostly too much lifting 5 lb rocks above my head. Three days later at 10 pm, we finished the upper floor portion so the porch could be roofed. But the rock work had just barely begun…

Playing with Fonts

Besides good photos, few elements energize a scrapbook page more immediately than contrasting type—two fonts that are distinctly different from each other. Contrast adds visual interest, and it helps guide the eye through the layout.
The quickest way to create type contrast is through size variance. By choosing one word to emphasize in the title and dramatically increasing (or decreasing) its size, you create a title that is instantly engaging.
By changing a few key words to a bolder version of the typeface, you create an interesting contrast on your page. Combining fonts with different styles creates subtle yet striking contrast.
I love to do that with titles:
It also works for body text: like turtles below:

Wre-vise, Wre-write, Wednesday: emotions

Writing techniques that help convey feelings:

• Describe how your body reacts to emotions
• Show how feelings translate into behavior
• Dramatize the emotion of the moment by capturing it in a scene--describe it like a movie.

I rewrote my story from Monday--it hardly sounds like the same story. I wanted to share the emotion--giddy to begin, exasperation with the prep work, dejection at the rain, and complete despair with the mortar, but slowly coming out of it.

I hopped out of bed and flew through the morning routine, singing my way around. Finally TODAY I was to start putting the rock on the house. Before I knew it I was on the porch roof doing the prep work. Sweating, I wrestled with the long sheets of black tar paper and unruly chicken wire. I was as determined to finish quickly (and get to the rock) as the chicken-wire was determined to stay in a curled up roll. It took most of the morning to prep for the upper level rock—frustrating, but now it was FINALLY time to put the rock on! I loaded the tractor bucket with an assortment of rock sizes and colors and maneuvered it into place. I mixed my first batch of cement to attach the rocks and crawled out onto the porch to begin—just as it began to rain. Determined, I started anyway—it wasn’t raining THAT hard. I was working on the south side of the upper level portion—right under the valley of the front roof. Before I’d finished even three rocks, the water was pouring down on me. Dejected I gathered my tools and the cement and crawled back inside to wait out the rain. After a couple of hours the sun came out. I thought arranging my round rocks would be simple—compared to the Welker’s square rocks I’d helped with to prepare—but it was a little difficult to find rocks to fit. Nevertheless, I was excited as I quickly finished the south side—about 5 square feet. It looked so awesome! Now for the mortar. I had Dave’s special tools, but I just couldn’t get the sticky cement to stay in place! I worked near the top—but it didn’t look any better. I worked near the bottom—still no improvement. My cement was drying fast and it was looking really crappy! I wanted so badly for my mortar to be smooth, but I just couldn’t make it look right. All I could think about was the 1100 more square feet of rock that was all going to be a mess. The more I messed with it, the worse it looked—there were gaps around the rocks & the cement was far from smooth. I sat in my still damp clothes and cried. I called Dave (my husband) who called Dave (my contractor) who didn’t have time to do it—nor did we have the money to pay him. But he did offer to teach me AGAIN. I had dried my tears and was attaching rocks to the front of the house when he had time to come teach me. It made a lot more sense as we worked on it together and I quickly caught on to how to seal the concrete to the edges of each rock and then smooth everything out. My spirits soared as the amount of “done” grew. Afterschool Dad came to help. I was working up high, with room on the ladder for only 2 or 3 rocks. That meant I was traversing the ladder every couple of minutes to get more rocks. Having him hand me rocks in the right color and shape speeded the process drastically. After a while we switched places.
Then next morning I didn’t hop out of bed: I was still excited about the rock, but my arms felt as if they’d fall off. Too much lifting 50 lb bags of mortar mix, and 35 lb buckets of cement, but mostly too much lifting 5 lb rocks above my head. Three days later at 10 pm, we’d finished the upper floor portion so the porch could be roofed. But putting the rock on had just barely begun…

Template Tuesday

Here's today's template:

You can get it here:

http://www.4shared.com/file/76305589/3e6bcc8d/template_5.html

A sample layout:

This week's story about putting rock on the house: here's the layout...getting ahead of myself, the story still needs to be edited, but that's an easy change--he, he!

If you need a good Christmas idea...

I've taken a couple of Jessica's classes. They really helped me get my scrappin' up to speed so I can spend more time on the story AND get more done. The videos are very well done, so you can follow along and your screen looks just like hers! So easy!

Memory Spark Monday: Write about a time where you felt strong emotions

On the day I started putting the rock on the house, I was almost giddy. But by the time I got all the prep work done, it was raining--I was so discouraged and as soon as the rain let up I started. I loved how the rocks were looking and got all excited again. Then as I started on the tuckpointing it looked awful! I sat and cried. Eventually it all worked out. I chose this experience because of the rollercoaster of emotions. Here is my first draft--it needs help, there is no emotion in the story. Taking this story from her to a completed scrap page will be the focus of this week's posts.

I’d helped the Welker’s with their rock work in part to learn the trade. Theirs was more complicated as my rocks were round-ish and gaps were acceptable. But I was determined to get the mortar smooth—not like theirs. I had D Radmall’s special tools, but it just wasn’t looking right and I was getting VERY frustrated. I had ______ square feet of rock to do and even after ? time I couldn’t get it to look right.
I told Dave I’d rather pay Dave and have it look right than mess it up myself. But Dave didn’t have the time to do it, but he agreed to help me again. I half hour lesson and I could slowly do it and it looked awesome!

To apply the “grout” between the rocks, the typical tool of the trade is a large rubber-lined canvas bag about two feet tall—like an enormous frosting bag. Dave loaned us a couple. I couldn’t work them—too thick and bulky for my short fat hands—so I tried large ZipLock freezer bags with a corner cut off. I didn’t bother to re-use the bags, I just went through several boxes of them. If the cement was the right consistency, they would squeeze out smoothly—too thick or a hard chunk plugging the opening and my fingers would poke holes in the bags. With practice I got it too work quite smoothly. Once when working on the top story portion, I was squeezing grout around the rocks under the eaves on the north east corner. Standing on the porch roof, I could barely reach high enough to get up against the eaves. I had just filled a bag and was working my way around the rocks. Unfortunately I had not carefully closed the ZipLock Bag, and as the weight of a full bag shifted in my hands, the top popped open and a gallon of wet cement landed in my face and fell down the front of my shirt. Fortunately I was wearing glasses, so although the cement had quickly oozed around the lenses, I got my eyes closed in time. But still my face and shirt were covered in wet cement and I was stranded on the porch roof. I called out to Dave and Earl who laughed and threw me a rag. After that I was careful to not get cement in the zipper strips and to close each bag completely.

We got our Books!

I always LOVE the days when my books come in the mail. I know you've seen some of the layouts before, but here's how they turn out in real life:


Look back to this post: http://focusonthestory.blogspot.com/2008/12/template-tuesday.html
to see this layout in digital form:

And Natalie's trek book...she took it to Young Men's & Young Women's on Wednesday. It kept getting passed around as people looked through it for pictures of themselves. The adults ooo'd and aahh'd over it. She loves it!

Someone asked what it cost. The answer was about $75. I say about $1 a page. Considering the cost of printing photos and scrapbook paper--CHEAP! I LOVE CherishBound!

Text on a layout

You’ve just typed in your journaling block, and now the moment of truth: Do I center it? Justify it? Align it to the left? The alignment you choose will affect how someone reads your words. Here are some general guidelines to help you decide.
Align to the left when you have a large journaling block. Why? A left aligned text block (also called “ragged right”) is the easiest of all alignment styles to read, especially when you have lots of text. For this reason, most magazines format their text using a left alignment. When in doubt, align to the left. The journaling on my layout here has many lines, so I used a left alignment to enhance readability.
Centering your text is OK if you have brief text. Centering is great when you are using a quote or other journaling with eight lines or fewer. Pay attention to your line lengths. Centered text blocks look more appealing when the line lengths vary, fully emphasizing the centered alignment. Justify your text with caution! Justifying text, or forcing each line to be the same length, is tricky. Why? Because inevitably some lines will have fewer words, thereby causing them to appear more spaced out than others and allowing for larger gaps between words. This creates an uneven, discordant look. If you have similar-sized words, or you’re comfortable shifting words from line to line to adjust the number of words per line, give it a try.
--From Cathy Zielske via Creating Keepsakes.com
Personally if I have little story, I’ll Left align (or right if it is next to the edge of something), but if my story is very long, I think justify works best. For lots of text it is easiest to read—that’s why newspapers and magazines use it. In PSE, highlight the text and use the shortcut Ctrl-Alt-J

The County Fair

With the booth completed, it was finally time to enjoy the County Fair (and the end of Tom’s visit). We decided to go to the rodeo on Thursday night. The ENTIRE family. We had just got there, found seats, and got food for everyone when the rain started. Now this is Utah, it can’t rain very much or for very long, right? WRONG! We sat in the off and on drizzle for maybe forty five minutes. Then the downpour hit, and we took off. We found shelter outside the gate under the front of a horse trailer. Everyone went home—everyone except Emily who was determined to stay. She crawled under the bleachers and sqatted to watch for a half an hour, then once the mutton-bustin’ was over, much of the stands cleared and we could find a spot under the roof. Dave and I sat cold and wet while she watched the rest of the rodeo oblivious to the rain.
Friday we enjoyed the midway. All day passes meant the kids could ride forever. Marky loved the rides even more than last year. This year his favorites were some jets that went up and down as they went around the circle. He grinned and grinned. On the few rides he couldn’t go alone, the girls took turns helping him. He even got to ride on the ferris wheel with Natalie. Yummy corn on the cob, dutch oven chicken and taters, and funnel cakes finish out the evening. I LOVE this tradition!

Wre-vise, Wre-write, Wednesday: more details

Ok, so this may be part of writing the first draft--maybe not. After you've written, when working on a story, keep asking yourself questions that will connect and draw you further into the story and its context, like:
What year was this? How old was I?
Who else was there?
What do I remember about how I felt? The mood in the air?
What else (context) was going on in the world or in my family at the time?
Why did we do this thing?
What else can I remember about what my life was like at this time?
What is the strongest single thing I can remember about this?

Use the details you come up with to revise your story. Remember you don't need to include everything, but something you find here may help with the introduction, the transition, or the closing.

Template Tuesday

If you've followed this blog for very long, you may have seen this sample layout. Now the template is official. Now you can download the PSD zipped here: http://www.4shared.com/file/75190094/19e46a4f/temp4.html

Memory Spark Monday: Name 5 things that are in your fridge right now

Syrup: both in a container and stuck to most of the surfaces including the door handles. On Monday night I made “Cottle Breakfast” for my family for dinner. I don’t make it very often, so I overshot on the amount of syrup we would need. My husband hates to “waste” anything, so he’s been slowly using it—but it drips and drizzles and gets all over EVERYTHING!
Oranges: I always look forward to around Christmastime when oranges get cheap enough I can buy a case for my family to eat. As a child we had oranges every winter. One of my favorite memories is when before bedtime my dad would fill an (empty) ice cream bucket with oranges and sit with a butter knife and peel oranges for us to eat until we could eat no more. We keep a few in the fridge so we don’t forget about the case in the garage.
Raspberry Cheesecake Yogurt: my new favorite flavor. As a child I HATED yogurt—tasted like someone made jello out of pee, I used to say. After working at the USU Dairy Laboratory I developed a taste for fine yogurt. Now I try to eat a serving each day. In the past few years my favorites are Western Family Pina Colada, Yoplait Blueberry, Apple Turnover, and now Raspberry Cheesecake. It’s not as good as the Dairy Lab, but I have developed a taste for it.
Milk: although sometimes there isn’t any. During the week we often drink very little—especially if we are busy and Dave is out of town. Then everyone is around all day on the weekend and I go from 1.5 gallons to NONE by Sunday afternoon. Dave LOVES milk—I can go for several days without drinking it and not notice. I love water.
Firewater: What’s left of a pint of Iggy’s firewater. It’s like a thin marmalade with a kick. Wonderful on warm bread. We fell in love with it while eating out, and bought our own jar—but we don’t have bread with our meals too often. I was hoping that owning the firewater would motivate me to bake more bread. It hasn’t yet. We keep the serving bottle in the cupboard and the rest in the fridge.

You can learn a lot from this list: I went to USU and worked in the Dairy Lab. My husband hates to waste food and can put away a LOT of milk. We go out to eat and I'm not so into homemade bread right now. I'm nostaligic about food.

What's your story?

Life without B--a story from my sister

Sorry about the letters, just protecting privacy. R is twelve, C is seven, and D is five--E is 9 months and not part of the story. This was in my inbox this morning:

How is your morning going? If you need a good laugh, I thought I'd tell you about mine.

I've decided to title this story "Life without B". You'll see why at the end. It all started innocently with me getting R out of bed and sitting on her bed talking to her as she got dressed. Fast forward 45 minutes to both of us jumping up and realizing we fell back asleep and missed her bus. The car is really cold at 6:45. That time shouldn't even be on the clock. Anyway, I came home to C and D playing on the computer. C was actually ready for school by himself and did very well. I know, I'm rambling but I'm getting to the funny part. By the way do you have a garbage can or barf bucket by your desk? Nevermind. Anyway, in the middle of D creating his own Bakugan figure online, he sneezed the biggest, hugest 5 year old sneeze. It rocked the windows like an earthquake. I briefly considered trying to lay back on R's bed and hope the morning was all a bad dream, but I couldn't sleep because C was yelling, "Oh gross, and wow D, that was COOOOL". I ventured, "D, please tell me you sneezed on your pants." (I wish) No, it was all over my keyboard. We as Grandma G's children always use the phrase "snot up a hill backwards in january", and now I see where this came from. I now know the speed velocity of snot running into my keyboard with my boys yelling, "hurry mom, it's going to get to the B line! Oh no! what if it gets to the spacebar??? We'll never be able to use the space again!" (maybe they should try the one between their ears) Do you know how long it takes to get snot out from inbetween keys with a kitchen knife and a paper towel? About 30 minutes if you really ever want to use b,h,j, and m again. On the upside, it will be a good diet day since my appetite is long gone and goes a bit further every time I touch B and my finger gets wet. I love my kids. It just occurs to me that I'm writing a huge story about snot. HELP the boyness is getting into my blood! Next thing you know I'll be farting with the best of them. I do love my kids. I had to write that again for my own benefit. C left the house figuring out what words he could write without touching B.

Fonts

Face it, some fonts look cool--or even fit your theme, but they don't read well in large blocks of text. Recently I developed a font for my dd to use in a book she was creating about a pioneer trek she took. It was modeled after the Emily Austen font. It looked great--but was extremely difficult to read at sizes under 36 pt! So we scrapped the font and used a tried and true one instead. Some tried and true fonts are: Times, Garamond and Goudy. One of Jessica Sprague's favorites for blocks of text is Century Gothic.Print a sample of the text you plan to use and ask a few people to read it--you'll get an idea if it will work.

Wre-vise, Wre-write, Wednesday: Actions Speak Louder than Words

Actions DO speak louder than words.
Show, don’t tell. Too many stories seem flat and monotonous because their authors do too much telling. When you summarize and generalize, you suck the life out of your stories.
Telling: My dog had a way of cheering me up.
Showing: I arrived home tired and deflated. I walked to the door, and as I pushed the key into the lock, I could see through the window that Emma was crouching in anticipation on the other side. I threw open the door and she leaped out and danced on her hind legs trying desperately to jump into my arms. I bent and picked her up. A fluffy mound of excitement, she immediately began licking my face. I smiled despite myself, and suddenly things didn’t seem so bad.
Besides making your story more interesting, Showing makes it more believable. By showing you support your case that your brother was a brat. Readers like to form their own opinions based on the evidence you present.
Here’s my revision of Monday based on this editing tip:
“Get an orange for me,” Theresa called out as headed down the hall toward the fruit room. “OK, but you have to peel mine, then.” She could peel an orange in a few seconds—with the peel almost coming off in one piece. I took the sections from her and sat down with my math book at the kitchen table. Five algebra problems later, I put my school work away and plopped down in a bean bag chair. Gilligan was already in trouble with the Skipper, but since I’d seen this episode before, I knew what had happened. I was sure it was only 10 minutes later when not only had Gilligan’s Island ended, but also an entire episode of Bewitched. That was our cue to head down to the barn to get started on the chores…
Today’s editing tip is from “Breathe Life into Your Life Story” by Dawn and Morris Thurston. There is some great advice and excellent examples in this book. It is geared to writing your life history, but since scrapbooking is little snippets of a life history, I have found the information to be very useful. Four stars!
Let's hear how it worked for you:

Template Tuesday

Yea! Another 2 pager!

I used this one and liked it so much, I flipped it horizontal and vertical:

Download the PSD here

Memory Spark Monday: What is/was your daily schedule like?

Afterschool in the wintertime:
Apples and oranges stayed cold in the winter months in the “fruit room” (aka the pantry/cold storage). After getting off the bus, we had a piece of fruit while finishing up whatever homework we had—I don’t remember having much homework. Then we parked in front of the TV for an hour or so before heading down to the barn to help with the chores. I remember several shows, but the ones I remember best were Gilligan’s Island and Bewitched.

Some days we would get the old black and white shows and some days we would be lucky and get color. After our TV “fix” we’d bundle up in our chore sweatshirts, coats, boots, and gloves and walk down (one block south of our house) to the barn. We’d always stop in to see Grandma (Clara) Cottle. She’d feed us Ritz crackers or rolls or sometimes Fig Newtons or Nutter Butters. We loved her snacks. We probably finished off an entire sleeve of cookies or crackers each night as we took a handful to eat on the way out to the barn. The bottom of our sweatshirt pockets were filled with hay leaves and cracker crumbs.

What's your story?