Christmas Card Box

I'm learning how to use both my camera and this blog so thought I would practise with a little lesson on making boxes out of greeting cards. I'm sure you've all seen this before.

You will need a greeting card (last year's Christmas cards work well), ruler, pencil, paper scissors, eraser and tape.

Cut the front of the card from the back on the centre fold. Then trim a scant quarter inch from one short side and one long side of the back of the card. The front of the card becomes the top of the box and the back becomes the bottom. As the bottom has to fit into the top, the bottom of the box needs to be slightly smaller.

With the ruler line up the diagonal and mark a short line in the centre of the card. Repeat with the other diagonal.

Where the two lines intersect is the centre of the card.

Fold each short side to the centre, lining up the edges to keep the fold square.

Do the same for the long sides.


In this photo I have drawn a line along the fold to indicate where to cut the card. I don't normally draw these in but just follow the fold.

Cut along the fold, stopping when you reach the perpendicular fold. (These are my husband's hands in this photo.)

At this point you can choose to erase the pencil mark, or not, as you prefer.


Fold the long sides up and overlap the little flaps as shown.

Fold down the short flap over the side of the box. This flap can be secured with tape if desired.

Repeat the process with the back of the card to make the bottom of the box.

Box is finished.

Here are a few that I have made. One year I made 120 boxes and filled them with lollies, stickers and little treats. I was a volunteer Scripture teacher and I made one for each of my students. A friend of mine once did a Christmas present swap with her family and the present had to fit in the box this size. I have a few around the place for special buttons etc. Cards with a centered design work really well.

I hope the instructions and photos are clear enough for you to make your own if you didn't already know how.

Cheers

Shari

How I Met Your Father (aka How I Met My Husband)

From time to time I am asked how I came to live in Australia and it's a nice story and people always suggest I should write it down so I will.

I grew up in North Platte, Nebraska. This is a relatively small town (around 15,000) and the main "industry" is agriculture (wheat and corn), cattle and the railroad. My family were railroad people. It was a great place to grow up. When I was in high school my step-dad suggested I apply to be a Rotary Exchange Student. I had in mind that I would one day travel to Australia so I applied. Amazingly the excellent men of the Rotary Committee decided I seemed a suitably mature young person and at the age of 16 jetted off on this incredibly long trip to the land of Oz. (It's still a long trip).

I stayed with several different families while in Perth. At Christmas time I was invited to spend a week in a caravan park down south at Margaret River to participate in a "Beach Mission" - a Christian outreach program run to witness to children and families staying in the caravan park. It's kind of like vacation Bible school. People from many different churches participated. This is where I first met Max. He was one of the volunteers. We were immediately interested in each other and our first "date" was a little sailing trip on a small catamaran borrowed off another volunteer. Sounds romantic, you say? Let me describe it for you as best I recollect.

It was a lovely sunny afternoon. The catamaran was a small, two-hulled craft with a 'trampoline' stretched between. It had a single sail on a 20 foot mast. The beach curved in a gentle bay and about 3/4 of a mile from shore the waves broke against a small reef. Yes, there were palm trees, and Norfolk Pines (look them up, magnificent trees). I was nearly 17 by then and oh so excited about the whole adventure. This would be my first venture onto the Indian Ocean (although I had had a swim in the surf by then). I remember the blueness of the sky and the bright sun and warm sand and cool water. As we pushed off the beach and gently scooted along it was magnificent. It seemed so daring to move away from the shore. Looking back the beach seemed so distant and the people little ant-like figures. Suddenly a gust of wind caught the sail and the boat flipped on its side and we landed in the water. I must confess to being a little alarmed but Max assured me that the catamaran was easy to right again. It was all about using our weight to pull the sail out of the water. Using a rope and standing on one of the hulls and leaning back the sail rose out of the water, only to be caught by another gust of wind and whipped over and into the water again. No problems, just turn the boat a little to accommodate the wind and try again. The rope broke. Tied it back together. Rope broke again. By this time the sail and mast are full of water and the boat is completely upside down. I'd been treading water, not much help. Max told me to rest on the hull and we simply had to wait for help to arrive, which it eventuall did. I remember sitting there with the sun on my shoulders and thinking how far away the beach was. We were nearly at the reef, the mast was occasionally hitting the slope of the reef. I was shivering slightly, not only from a little reaction, but just being young and in the company of a young man in his mid-twenties. Rescue came in the form of a fisherman in his dingy with an outboard motor. He came with the owner of the catamaran and another chap, whom I can't recall all these years later. The owner of the catamaran, Richard, was a tall, solid bloke who didn't need the leverage of a rope to right the catamaran, even with a wet sail. I returned to shore in the dingy with the fisherman and the other chap, while Richard and Max sailed the catamaran back. By this time it was late afternoon. A shower and a change of clothes refreshed me greatly and Max and I had tea with a family staying in the caravan park. A nice family with four daughters. We had spaghetti. I came to learn that the fisherman who rescued us had been catching 1 to 2 metre sharks in the little bay that afternoon. (I'm the one on the right with the Rotary t-shirt on) (Max's Sandman)

Max and I spent a lot of time together between his work and my schooling and other side trips. But the time eventually came when I had to return to the US. I lost touch with Max for a little while. I finished high school. Joined the US Army where I met another man, married, was stationed in Belgium for a while. After two years of marriage I became pregnant and only a month later my husband left me and moved in with his girlfriend. I was discharged from the Army, returned to Nebraska where I had my lovely daughter Jessica. After she was born I went through my address book and wrote to a lot of people with a sort of 'this is what I've been doing for the last five years - how about you' letter. My letter to Max eventually caught up with him and we began to correspond. When my daughter was a year old I got my divorce, moved to Denver to go to business college and kept moving forward with my life. Max and I continued to correspond with our relationship growing closer. We wanted to see each other again so after I graduated from business college, and while Jessica stayed with my family in Nebraska, I travelled back to Oz. Max was living in Queensland (Mooloolaba, pictured)at this time and I was able to stay with some friends of his. I fell in love all over again. Max was a little more cautious. I could only stay two weeks and when we parted I didn't know what the future would hold. Two weeks after my visit Max proposed to me long distance. I was very happy to hear that! It took months to do all the paperwork with documents flying between Perth, Queensland, Denver, San Francisco (where the Australian Consulate was). Finally Jessica and I arrived in Queensland where we married. We had a great wedding. Two more beautiful daughters. And now we've been married for 20 years. I am still incredibly in love with my husband and know how blessed I am to have him and our three daughters and to live in this wonderful country. I'm typing with a silly grin on my face.

Cheers

Shari