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Sunday, March 20, 2005

Happy Birthday Family :)

Yesterday was our eleventh wedding anniversary. My parents came by and gave us a gift and offered to watch the kids while we went to spend it, but we decided instead to get dinner for the whole family and have a little "party" at home. We'd been thinking and talking all day about how our wedding anniversary, yeah, it celebrates the day we got married, and the first time we -- um, nevermind -- and the fact that there was NO MORE KISSING GOODNIGHT AND SAYING GOODBYE -- this was a biggie at the time. But the thing we kept thinking about yesterday was how our wedding marked the formal beginning of our family, of the entity that has grown and changed and become the center of our earthly lives and given us so, SO much joy. We spent a lot of time thanking God for the fact that His way of doing things is such a happy way. So it seemed fitting that our celebration wouldn't just involve T and me, but the whole gleeful group of us.

Do we rot the teeth out of your head with sweetness, or what.

Today we went to my parents' so that T could help my dad fix, um, I think the fuel pump in Mom and Dad's van. But it could have been some other thingamajiggy, I'm not sure. Meanwhile I went for a long walk (a very long walk, to quote the Musgroves in Persuasion), because I had of course brought [holy chord] The Nikon, and by golly I wanted to use it. Apparently I should have remembered the How Long And Which Direction rule, because everyone got kind of freaked out at how long I was gone, and went out searching for me, wondering if maybe I'd had an episode of tachycardia and was lying curled into the fetal position in the mud beside the road in the rain, or something. Which of course I hadn't, I was just, um, taking, er...

one hundred and sixty three pictures.

That takes a while. In fact, it's rather remarkable that it only took me two hours and three and a half miles, isn't it? Don't you think?
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Thursday, March 17, 2005

the textbook definition of "uncomfortable"

Today I had to go to what my dad has always euphemistically called "the ladydoctor" (all one word like that). I had to have a sonogram. I want to note here and now that this is far less fun when you're not pregnant. Especially it is less fun when you sit there (with the required full bladder, of course) for TWO HOURS in the dressing room with the little gown on, reading Les Misérables (thank you, Mr. Hugo, for that scintillating history lesson about Louis-Philippe, can we get on with Jean Valjean now), wondering if they've forgotten about you. And it is even less fun when the technician comes in to call out the third or fourth person who has arrived after you and then been seen, and tells you that by the way, the reason you're waiting is that you arrived half an hour late and they have to wait till they can "squeeze you in." Especially when you arrived on time -- early even -- and the front-desk people had your appointment time correct in their book but the technician lady didn't.

And yet I didn't kill anybody. Not even one person. I didn't even swear, not even in my head. Aren't you proud?

(Just don't ask if I, uh, cried. Because of the frustration. When I was alone.)

Then after I finally finished that unpleasant business, I went shopping. Alone. I went to Subway alone and then sat on the grass at the park alone and ate my sandwich alone while reading alone and I went to Costco and Save Mart and Smart and Final alone. It was like a vacation and a prison sentence at the same time. Like being Martha Stewart maybe, only I bet Martha Stewart never had the fun of figuring out the best way to spend exactly $55 at Costco.

Saturday, March 12, 2005

we really know how to throw a party

(I thought about putting this entry in the photo blog, since it is rather image-intensive, but since it's more of a daily-life entry, and the photos are, um, not artistic in the slightest, I stuck it here. Sorry about the hugeness of it.)

One night maybe six years ago when T was going to be away overnight visiting a friend, I decided that I would do a lot of fun girly stuff to make his absence more endurable (up until he got a job in telecom with its requisite two-week overtime stints in fire season, we had only very rarely been apart overnight). I rented chick movies -- this was the first time I watched "You've Got Mail", which turned out later to become one of T's favorites, but oh well -- and bought Doritos (which T hates) and made myself meatloaf (ditto), and I stayed up as late as I could make myself so that I wouldn't have to lie in bed waiting to go to sleep without him. (shut up, that is NOT pathetic.) Anyway. Somehow this developed into a tradition wherein when Daddy is gone, the kids and I throw a "party". That sounds really bad, I realize that, but we're not celebrating his absence -- we're more taking our minds off it. Tonight T is at a men's retreat, so here, courtesy of The New Nikon and the fact that I'm feeling a lot better than I was, is a look into the debauchery that the mice get up to while the cat's away.

This is not for the faint of heart.

(OK, maybe it is.)

First we all played a good game of pretend. The kids had torches (flashlights) and were exploring a ruin of a castle (our house, with all the lights turned off). I was the queen, who inexplicably was still alive inside this ruin. Adventure ensued.

observe my stately mantle (made from, um, a waterproof crib sheet. C was the costume designer for this production). And if you look really closely you can see the brown paper crown on my head. (LT took this picture. He is suitably aware of the honor and trust I bestowed upon him in allowing him to use The Nikon.)


LT then made a map of an imaginary country. I am unclear as to whether this map represents the country over which I reigned. I'll have to ask him tomorrow.



Then C made cookies, almost entirely by herself, from a mix she'd been given, um, for her birthday. In September.

it's a good thing these were just for family. C still needs practice at not licking the spoon.


the finished project

Part of a traditional party is the freedom to stay up as late as we want. When the kids can't keep their eyes open any longer, they make a tent in the front room and go to sleep in it.

The sheet down the middle divides it into a room for each of them. Do you notice that their legs have to go between the chair legs? Why again is this fun??

So there you have it -- a virtual tour of our wild, wild life. I'd better hope T doesn't read this one.
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Tuesday, March 08, 2005

drama queen

Today the kids and I went for a walk with my mom. I wore capris. Warm weather is nice, but I already miss winter. Come back! Before we know it it will all be about harsh hot sun directly overhead. Nooo.

We had to stop by the grocery store, where they just installed a 25c pony ride. C wanted to ride it, but I didn't have any pocket change, so she was disappointed and had to just hug it instead. We walked back to the car (thanks to the enormous hill going up to our house, we don't usually walk into town when we go for walks; we drive down the hill and park. Yeah, we're sissies.) and as we drove up the hill, C said, in a voice dripping with wistful, nostalgic longing:

"I will never forget that horse."

C, the world's foremost five-year-old teenaged drama queen.

Saturday, March 05, 2005

How To Enjoy Housework

Those of you who know me even slightly have probably figured out by now that I am not a neat freak. I am, in fact, pretty much a Messie. It's not that I don't care that the house is messy; I hate when it's messy (which it is, in varying degrees, most of the time). But I'm too lazy/sidetracked/interested in other things to keep it the way I like it to be. I'm better than I used to be -- oh, it is awful to look at pictures from when the kids were babies and see how messy the backgrounds were -- and I remember feeling so guilty when we took those pictures that my kids' baby pictures would so frequently look like they were living in a neglected methamphetamine lab.

OK, so not THAT bad. But still.

ANYWAY. Tonight I had an idea -- a surefire way to make myself enjoy cleaning up for once. Using my new toy, I mean Nikon, bought for me by the most nearly-perfect man ever, I made a time-lapse movie of myself cleaning the kitchen, as well as one of the living room. And now, because I am, um, really not shy about showing you all really embarrassing stuff, I guess, here are links to the two movies, which are extremely short. You might want to play the Sabre Dance while you watch them. Just a suggestion. You know, like the guy who tells you at a fancy restaurant what wine you should order. Not that I ever GO to restaurants like that. Or order wine.

OK OK HERE ARE THE LINKS ALREADY.

Cleaning the kitchen
Cleaning the living room (featuring in dual starring roles MY NEW FANTASTIC COUCHES. Thank you, they'll be here all week.)

Both movies came out a little dark; there's no way to adjust the shutter speed or aperture manually when it's doing a time-lapse movie, and the automatic everything kind of went, "wha? There is something beyond this table?" But you might be able to get the general idea.

This is where I would ordinarily type, "and it's off to bed for me," or something equally hokey, except that I am, um, way behind on laundry. Again. So I'm up washing some things for church tomorrow. Silly people who think they need socks and stuff. Sheesh.

Friday, March 04, 2005

I am SO grown-up

First, I have to get this out of the way. Yesterday we got up at the crack of dawn, which of course I photographed:

(OK, so that's sunrise, not dawn, quibble quibble. I'd also already been up for about an hour when I took that picture. Artistic license, OK? Oh, and you can click to see that bigger, in a new window)


We drove to first one city and then to another, to visit doctors. Here is what I learned (ooh, a list!):

• I have a flow murmur and a classic case of supraventricular tachycardia (neither of those things is actually that scary, but they sure sound like it).
  
• I will probably be having a hysterectomy sometime this spring.

• I should always turn off my cell phone at the GYN office, because otherwise I may end up talking to my dad whilst being examined, and folks, that just feels all wrong.
  
• T and I still have the happy ability to make a day of boring, necessary stuff into a date, just because we love each other and enjoy each other so much. (kids were with my parents).
  

Anyway, enough about that, on to the real news.

First, in case you are new to my journal(s), I must re-confess that I was a thirty-year-old woman who had never owned a pair of high-heeled shoes. This has to do with having reached my adult height (which is taller than average) in junior high, and all this deep-seated insecurity about being taller than everyone else. And also laziness, also known as "never getting around to it".

Yesterday, however, I figured, what the heck, and we bought me these:

T wants me to make sure you know that he picked them out. I said I wanted high heels, he did the rest. Aren't they darling? DO YOU SEE THE POLKA DOTS?

Then last night I wore them to a community chorus concert. My first time in high heels, how sweet. Now I need a frilly organza dress and a cute little ponytail.

(Seriously, though? HOW DO YOU WALK? I mean, is it really all about these little bitty short steps -- well, they're little bitty short to ME, anyway -- or is there some trick to moving quickly and gracefully at the same time which I just don't know about? And also, very freaky when you take off your shoes and feel like your heels are downhill from your toes.)

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

The kind of morning moms dream of

Well, some kind of moms, anyway.

The community chorus* had a rehearsal with the high school choruses this morning, since we are performing with them for a couple of songs at their concert this Thursday. I took the kids with me (obviously), and sat them in a couple of auditorium chairs with their schoolwork while I stood with a bunch of girls who were BABIES when I was their age and practiced singing. And here's the good part: those two angels (they're angels this morning, anyway ;) sat there quietly for the entire hour and did their work without giving me even a single smidge of regret for having had to bring them.

I'm writing this down so that the next time I feel like I am useless as a parent and my kids will have me in the asylum within fifteen minutes, I can read it, and hope. ;-)

*I don't get out much. The community chorus and church and Awana and Bible study, that's pretty much it. The chorus is the only one of those things that I do on my own, without the rest of the family, so it is pretty much the extent of my adult social exposure. So you'll probably hear about it a lot. Maybe I should put a picture of it in the sidebar.

By the way, I've been doing my reading every day. (pats self on back). I am using a modified version of a through-the-Bible-in-a-year plan that divides the days up into The Law, History, Prophecy, etc. Instead of going from one section to the other on successive days, though, I'm reading a book from one section, and then going on to a book from another, so as to have more context. It will still work out to take a year. That's if I don't slack. Which I may well do.

I'm also planning to put up a post about chapter summaries soon, probably when I actually start working on mine for the next study.

Monday, February 28, 2005

Breaking out of a rut

Lately I have been in a serious cooking rut. I began to dread the inevitable "What's for dinner?" when T would call me from work. The family would gather around me like baby birds with their mouths wide open, and I would throw in some hot dogs or a take-and-bake pizza or the occasional batch of spaghetti and run screaming from the room. I WAS TIRED OF IT, the neediness and yet the pickiness.

But when it comes right down to it, it's not really pickiness. Someone in our household (and I'm not naming names but I may happen to be married to him) just has really weirdo tastes in food. Here is a short sampling of the list of foods he doesn't like me to cook (note: if you happen to have ever cooked any of these things for my husband, don't feel bad. He doesn't HATE them. He just prefers when he's home and has some control, not to have to eat them.):

• Roast beef, and any of its trimmings (including really awesome potatoes roasted along with the meat. Right there, that shows you that something is wrong with him)
  
• Chicken pot pies, even yummy homemade ones
  
• Meatloaf, even really GOOD meatloaf, not the bricks of hamburger and oatmeal with ketchup slathered on top that defined meatloaf in the house where he grew up
  
• Baked potatoes
  
• Scalloped potatoes
  
• Any kind of potatoes except for a) mashed or b)Lipton onion roasted
  
• Soup, except clam chowder, which, hello, costs as much to make as a dinner out, so why cook?
  
• Stew
  

So I figured that I would stop teasing him and haranguing him about all his weird issues about food (we've been married eleven years and for nearly all that time I've worked very hard to try to convince him that just because his mother didn't know how to cook something doesn't mean that it isn't a worthwhile dish), and I had him make a list of foods he does like. Said list follows.

• Pancakes.
• Spaghetti.
• Pancakes.
• French toast which he can't eat because it has eggs in a recognizable eggy format, which for some reason cause his hiatal hernia to flare up to "hospitalization" levels
• Lipton Onion Roasted Potatoes
• Tacos
• Pancakes.
• Biscuits and gravy
• Chicken Marsala with Italian red sauce
• and let's not forget pancakes.

(if I could make a little cartoon drawing of myself with smoke above my head, I would put it here.)

So last night I pulled out this box of recipe cards that T bought before we got together. It was one of those things where they send you a sample set and explain that for X number of dollars a month you keep getting more and more cards until you have *fanfare* THE ULTIMATE RECIPE COLLECTION. He thought, hey, women like men who cook, and since he was in the market for a wife, he signed up and paid the X dollars for a couple of years until he figured out that he would be receiving recipes until he died, and that he had never used a single one of these (rather expensive) cards, at which time he canceled. A few years later I inherited this collection when I married him (and all he had in the refrigerator was a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a jar of jam. He did have some really cool T-Fal pans, though). I never used them much -- I had first my trusty Betty Crocker cookbook and then the Internet to tell me how to make pancakes, spaghetti, chicken marsala, and French toast. ANYWAY. Last night I pulled out these cards and sat on the couch while he sat next to me, fiddling on the computer, and we played flash cards. Anything I thought he MIGHT not dislike, I would hold it up and he would say "OK" or "No way". When we were done I had a stack of about sixty recipes to try. Not bad, and it's way better than giving up and making spaghetti. Again.

Tonight I made "Southwestern Chicken Wraps" which were actually really good. Or maybe I was just really hungry, I dunno.

our weekend in pictures

Well, it's 3 a.m. and I'm at the computer. I have a good reason to (still) be up -- honest I do! T was called into work at 11 p.m. because, it turns out, a power outage caused some problems with radio transmission thingamabobs, and since he works in telecommunications, radio transmission thingamabobs are his job. (You can see by my extensive use of technical terminology that his knowledge has rubbed off on me a really whole lot, can't you.) He just called and said he's heading home, so he should be here within an hour or so. I just hope he doesn't have to turn around and go back in at 6AM like usual.

We had a really nice weekend up until about four hours ago. ;-) Yesterday we went with my parents to pick oranges at their neighbor's house. She is an elderly woman whose ranch, including the orange orchard, has been in her family for a hundred years (literally, this year). She can't pick the oranges herself anymore, so it's become tradition for our extended family (and a few others we drag along each year) to go do it for her when the oranges are ripe. Here are a few of the last pictures I'll be taking with my dinosaur of a digital camera before my wonderful anniversary present arrives this week:

This picture shows not only a very good reason why I need a new digital camera, but also the view from the top of the orange tree I was picking. It's harder to stand fifteen feet up a ladder and take a picture than you might think. :)

The person who finds the smallest orange each year "wins". We're not sure exactly what the person wins -- bragging rights? The first turn in the lunch buffet? (mmm, fried chicken this year. It's a good deal for all concerned -- the neighbor gets her orange crop in and we all a lot of exercise, enough oranges to last us quite a while, and five extra pounds apiece thanks to the fantastic lunch she cooks up for us.)

Cows in the road. How often do you encounter that on the way to work?

Back at my parents' ranch, we spent some time splitting wood, because we were nearly to the point of burning our furniture at home. Here are LT and C helping my dad drive the tractor into the shed to get the splitter.

We recently made a very important discovery at my parents'. Namely that straw on a steep slope is just as good as snow for tobogganing. Visits to Grandpa's will never be the same again.

C tied her shoes by herself for the first time after dinner on Saturday. That screeching sound you heard at about 6:00 Pacific time was my daughter running around to everyone in the house (and that was a lot of people) shrieking about her accomplishment.

Sunday, February 20, 2005

back in the saddle again

I did not fall off the face of the earth this weekend. It's just that T thought that he could use MY computer (the nerve!) to play Civilization III, also known as Computer Game Crack as far as T is concerned. So my computer time has been seriously diminished, with the result that my house is a relatively clean, I'm pretty much caught up on laundry, and I've read about three hundred pages of Les Misérables since Friday. I've also almost forgotten how to type. Again I say, the nerve of him. On my computer!
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Last night we (well, mostly I, as T was ensnared in the aforementioned web of addiction) watched Lost in Translation. I liked it pretty well, with the exception of a few scenes which I'm sure the director thought were essential but I did not. T hated it. Probably this has something to do with the fact that he only heard it, and it's really a very visually-told story.
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Today was my nephew's 6th birthday party. We gave him a dinosaur marionette and a bicycle license plate with his name on it, and I ate more cake and ice cream than I ought to have. Highlight of the afternoon: My two 77-year-old grandmothers (the whiny one and the spunky, feisty one, for those of you keeping track) explaining the concept of some asinine reality TV show to the rest of us ("no, it's not swapping wives like SEX swapping wives..."). Or wait, maybe that was the low point. Also, I actually took some pictures with my brother's (cue Monty Python heavenly chord) NIKON D70. That camera is so far out of my league. I am the total ugly nerd girl freshman who trips over her shoelaces, and it is the supernice intelligent artistic athletic senior guy with the muscles and the great clothes and the perfect hair. Who has to shave. I have such a crush on it. I think I'll go write its initials on my bookcovers.

the round of life Archives | Page 12 of 28

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