My Baby's 10

Now I'm just going to go cry.

(PS: The picture is of Rhys at 14 months. It was a Mother's Day gift. Sniff. Now I'm going to go cry some more.)

(PPS: Notice the cankles. LOVE the chubby baby. Now I'm going to go cry even more.)

For Health or Looks?

Why is it that when I start to work out it's to focus on my health but as I workout, my eyes start to covet the lean bodies of the people on my screen and I think, "To hell with being fit, I wanna be svelte and look great in a bikini!"

What's up with that? I know that even being fat, I can still be fit and help my heart, find more energy, enhance my mood (and that does need some enhancing) and lower my risk for a myriad of diseases. Good stuff.

But when I work out, I just. don't. care. Visions of sugar plums (hard bodies) dance in my head and then I feel nothing but discouraged when I go look in my mirror and see my lumpy, stretch marked body.

*sigh*

Someday I'll get this natural man/child of God thing worked out.

Someday.

BTW...

I totally did this.

Thankfully it happened at home and not during church as I don't think I would have had enough chutzpah; Sacrament Meeting, no; Relief Society, yes.

Thankfully no one was around to watch my interpretive/modern/ballet combo number.

Sitemeter Rocks

Because I found out that someone in New Orleans area is planning to name their baby after me.

Alright, so they just googled "baby names maraiya," but cosmically, it's all the same thing.

Christmas Joys

Christmas was, overall, delightful. I have struggled as an adult, though, to find the Christmas spirit. Rob said to me over and over again that it just didn't feel like Christmas for him this year. Quite frankly, I've had that feeling almost every year since I got married and had kids. Is it just too much of the detail and behind the scenes work that seems to steal so much of the magic? Is it knowing that I placed all those presents under the tree and that they didn't just show up by magic? It was always a miracle to go to bed to a fairly empty tree and wake up with presents and stockings stuffed and everything aglow.

The kids had a great time though and I loved, LOVED seeing their little faces, both in receiving gifts and in giving them.

Lulu said to me, "Mom, this is a gift I made." I began to unwrap it, "It's a pot holder, " she continued before I could unwrap. She's been working so hard to maintain a surprise but I think waiting gets the best of many of us.

My nephew, Nicholas, gave us homemade Peanut Butter Balls. My SIL Julie said that he was wavering between making the balls or buying gifts from the dollar store and decided to make the peanut butter balls because they "are made from the heart."

It was a great day - lazy and fun and full of family.

Surprisingly, though, a friend of mine (Niki) dropped off a gift shortly before Christmas. I put it under the tree because I love the big surprise. I opened it Christmas day and was thrilled to find, "Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six word memoirs by famous and obscure writers." I've read the whole thing. Some of them twice. It was a beautiful book; many of the memoirs made me laugh and I could relate to many as well.

So, in honor of one of my favorite gifts of the day (it's hard to compete with a preschooler's self-colored hot pad), I've been trying to think of what my own memoir would be. Six words is tough.

Today I was sitting in church and it came to me:

Trying daily. Finding joy and God.

(And yes, trying should be taken in both senses of the word - just ask Robert.)

Not nearly as entertaining as being a holy rolling mother but I think it fits.

Anyway, Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

Why I Hate Christmas

And Other Odd Thoughts

I have random thoughts in my head and felt the need to write them down. At times, lately, I have felt the need to be funny or particularly insightful and then I remember that this blog is first and foremost for me (God willing, I will never be Perez Hilton!) and what do I care what other people think? Yes, I'm back to that. I talked to an old friend today - almost told her about my blog but didn't; I did tell her about my therapist and Lexapro. I could almost hear the censure and the trying to understand someone who makes different choices. I've been thinking about this all afternoon and am again seeking to embrace the, "What do I care what other people think?" adage.

I am struggling with Christmas. Perhaps it's emotions on a level I can't see, but Christmas is really making me cry this year, even if I just think about Santa.

Because this year, Santa is really just Jesus working for the CIA; Santa is not so much a jolly fat man in a red suit but the Spirit of God, the Spirit of Love, in disguise. I've watched my children gleefully shop for loved ones and have loved their increasing discovery of the joy of giving; I have seen their eyes light up in excitement as they imagine how much so-and-so will like their gift. And then I feel that way as I take them to Santa, a kind man who asks about their dreams and wishes, and as I play Santa in my home searching for gifts to delight and enthrall them. Surely Santa brings out the best parts of ourselves.

Mary makes me cry. I think of this poor young woman, chosen by God to be the vessel for His son. I think of the Law of Moses and it's strict rules for chastity and what a blow this must have been to her to be an unwed mother. Pregnancy is hard enough without your community scorning you for it. I imagine her time with Elizabeth was such a gift from God.

I wonder too at what it must have been like for her to carry the Christ-child and to worry and ponder about how she was going to be His mother; to stare at her newborn babe, covered in birthing goo and Heaven's fairy dust and know that this was her Savior and her son. How overwhelming.

Jesus makes me cry. This beautiful, beautiful baby boy (I have a thing for newborns) is only so significant because of His horrible/magnificent end. I cannot think of the babe without thinking of the man on the cross and I cry. It is one thing to look at an infant and see the millions of possibilities and hopes; it is another to see all of these tied up in pain, sorrow and death.

Joseph makes me cry. To be a father and yet not, to be somehow right there and yet always on the outside as just a stand-in, someone to be present where God the Father could not be. And yet, he was tender and kind when he could have been so cruel. I love how giving he was.

Yup, down the line, wise men (bringing money and gifts to a poor family who so needed the help) and shepherds (humble, blue collar men who had testimonies of Jesus, not to mention symbols of Jesus himself - and there we go, right back to the cross), angels (singing praises and rejoicing in this moment, bearing witness of Jesus) and even sheep (me), are all making me cry in the amazing symbolism of Christmas.

So, in an attempt not to think, and to entertain myself while I tackled my mountain of laundry, I watched the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2, which was much better than I thought it would be. (Not that that's saying much; I believe it best to watch any movie with rather low expectations so that I'm always pleasantly surprised).

I watched Tibby, a 20-something year old, help her best friend's mother give birth and I found it odd; I don't know that I would want to have a child, someone a generation younger with no real connection to me, stand at my side for child birth. But my next thought was just how amazing women are and how we are all so connected by these weird experiences that our bodies give us, whether we choose them or not, regardless of age. And how wonderful it is to be part of this club, this group of people called women. There is something timeless about it.

Of course my next thought was, "I miss my mom." I wonder sometimes if the "acid trips" of grief ever stop. I've been doing so well since this summer and now I ache.

My current thought is, "Maybe I'm crying so much because it's late and I just really need to go to bed!

And in a few days, Christmas will be over. My nativities, which I love, will have to go back into their boxes. Life will return to normal without the constant reminders - HEY IT'S CHRISTMAS - around every corner.

And then I just have to get ready for Rob to leave.

Yep.

I'm crying again.

I'm really not looking forward to up to 6 months as a single parent and away from my spouse. We set up Skype but even video calls are not the same thing as a hug and that feeling I get whenever he's in the same room.

And then I have to move and leave the only community my children have ever known.

Yep.

I'm crying again.

I have to meet new teachers and make new friends and find my place in a new ward when I love the one I'm leaving so very, very much. (Although I am looking forward to having my bishop not being a personal friend as well.)

I don't like change; I don't like it all and that seems to be what the last 3 years have been all about.

The only constant may be my crying.

Maybe it is a gift afterall. :)

A Burst of Creativity

I woke up this morning and what did I see?
Couscous raining out of my pantry.
Morning has brought me such a big surprise,
Pasta falling on my boobs and thighs.
I could take an armful and make a treat,
Teriyaki couscous, yum so sweet!
I wish it could be so,
But it was never meant to be,
Couscous raining out of my pantry.

(To the tune of "Popcorn Popping on the Apricot Tree," of course!)

(And couscous, dry anyway, is very, VERY easy to clean up.)

BTW, did I mention? IT'S STOPPED SNOWING!! Apparently there is snow to the north of us and snow to the south but I am living in a magical, snow free bubble. YEA!! God is good! :)

Snowy Days

It started snowing Sunday night and it hasn't stopped since.

Well, okay. I exaggerate.

Mildly.

We had a brief respite on Wednesday and sort-of Thursday when the snow stopped long enough and it warmed up just enough to allow the children to go to school (this being their last week before break and all). But the cold front came back with full force Thursday night and the kids officially began their Winter Break one day earlier than expected (after just having an impromptu four-day weekend).

So, okay, I'm a mom. It's winter time. I know this is to be expected (the no school thing) and sometimes it's kinda fun. I've taken a ton of pictures of kids making snow angels and sledding and making butt prints - all the essentials.

But now I done.

Time for the snow to melt.

This is why I live in Western Oregon and not, oh, in the mountains or something insane.

This is my last winter before having to survive the certain snow and ice that comes with every Alaskan winter.

This is my last winter not to care about winter driving - ah, the real story behind this post.

I hate to drive in the snow. I don't care if it's only an inch.

I know - y'all are laughing at me and mocking me. I can hear it, "But you grew up in Alaska." Alaska, schmalaska. I can't drive in the snow.

It freaks me out.

It makes me cry.

It makes my heart go pitter-pat and my breaths come faster and deeper. (And you thought Rob was the only one who could do that!)

The reality is I only drove in Alaskan winters for about two season (and then a week or two on Winter Break from college). That's it. I've been living in milder climates ever since.

And what happened during those few experiences? Let's review shall we....

There was the time when I was driving to school from seminary and the car did a complete 360 during rush hour traffic leaving me bumper to guard rail.

There was the time when I slid, while trying to park to go Christmas shopping, on a sheet of ice and ran my dad's truck into a car. I had to approach everyone in the shop and ask, "Excuse me, do you own the Mercedes-Benz parked outside?" Turns out, it was owned by a prominent local attorney.

Yeah.

What can I say? I'm traumatized.

Thursday was probably the best weather of the week and only because it was cold enough to snow (no freezing rain - hallelujah) but not cold enough to stick. I had to run some errands; we were out of milk, eggs, cheese, laundry detergent, kitty litter and dog food. It was Lulu's last day of preschool. Ever. (Damn budget cuts.) So, places to go, things to do, I pumped myself up with fearless power and started up the van. I slammed that baby in reverse and moved about a foot before spinning tires.

I tried again.

I drove forward and then reverse. Now I was closer to the garage than when I started.

I got rocks from our side parking area and placed them under the tires.

That worked for a few feet which got me back to the place I originally started it.

I tried and tried and tried and got no where.

I called Robert. I am not going to cry.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm fine. How's your day." Not going to cry.

"It's okay. Are you crying?"

Damnit - I was crying. "No, I'm fine."

"What's going on? What can I do?"

I burst out, "I can't @&#$ get my car out of our driveway." Now I was sobbing.

I could tell this was going to be a good day.

Robert came home and drove the van out of the driveway as easy as you please.

I felt real smart and super talented.

I soldiered on though (mainly because although Robert had offered to chauffeur me around, he didn't really mean it and he really wanted to get back to work - it's the thought that counts I suppose). I started to tool around town. I had that steering wheel in a death grip. Every pedestrian casually walking on the sidewalk evoked this response, "Hmmm....hope I don't kill you."

I muttered over and over again, "Please God, get me home safe."

In a nut shell (too late), I made it home just fine, despite countless trips to the stores as I kept forgetting everything I needed. But I'm still not any happier about driving in the snow; I was chauffeured about today and I'm sure the same will hold true for tomorrow.

Robert is determined to teach me how to drive in the snow - while I can get away with not driving a day or two here, I'm pretty sure I can't give up driving from September to May after the move.

All I can say is, "Pray for me people."

To hell with that, "Pray for everyone else on the road, especially pedestrians."

At least I'm realistic.

Being Bold

I know I have a photo on here somewhere - but it's pretty buried and when I leave comments, everyone only sees this Picasso image (which annoyingly, but fairly accurately, sometimes only shows the bosoms).

No more.

I've updated my profile picture.

See how bold I've become?

When you meet me on the street, feel free to ask for autographs.

Age of Innocence

Conversations about race.

We went to TKD testing today. Our friend Tony, who's black, had a daughter earning her red belt. Shatley got up there to test along with a black belt to help her in case she got stuck. The black belt was a blonde, blonde white girl and Shatley is a mocha colored girl with dark, tight curls. I told Lulu, "Look - Tony's daughter's right there."

"Which one?" she asked.

I miss that sense of people just being people and the time when distinctions seemed so blurred and were usually nice/not so nice.

Busted!

Okay.

So I like to think that I'm a nice kind bit of chocolatey goodness spewing love and in general just making the world a better place.

But I have to admit - the popular girls? They still make me nervous and feel like somehow I'm wearing plaids, polka dots and flowers all at once.

Every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday I take Lulu to catch a bus to preschool. Another mother there is always dressed professionally (she has a real job). Her hair is perfectly curly and blonde. Why is it always blonde? Make up, perfect figure, the whole nine yards.

Tuesday she was next to the bus saying good-bye to her daughter and I happened to glance at her shoes; one heel was thick and square and the other was spiky.

Oh. my. heck.

This girl - Miss Perfect who never deigns to even smile in my direction - had on mismatched shoes.

I snickered. I inner high-fived and then held my hand out to be slapped by a friend.

My inner chocolately self debated telling her but really, does anyone walk up to a perfect stranger and say, "Hey - you're wearing two different shoes."

So I just figured that, for whatever reason, she had on mismatched shoes and that she was okay and I had a vicious inner glow if only for a moment.

Today at the bus stop, Miss Perfect arrived with more peppish energy than I've ever seen and asked, "Did anyone notice Tuesday that I had on two different shoes."

She scanned the crowd.

Damn my I-cannot-tell-a-lie-self. "I did."

"I knew it!," she said. Then she weaves her tale of tripping over her feet all day because the heels were different heights (I started feeling very small for my inner glowing and high-fiving) and how she has joint issues and wears special insoles and figured she'd just forgotten to put them in (very, very small) until she figured out at 4:30pm, after meeting with clients, that her shoes were mismatched. And that yes, you should always tell a perfect stranger that she does in fact have spinach in her teeth or, in this case, that her shoes are mismatched. (I wanted to hide under her currently perfectly matched shoes.)

*sigh*

I think she'll be back to ignoring me on Monday.

But now, not only does she still make me nervous but I feel guilty on top of that for my less than charitable choices.

Damn perfect little blondes....

Memorization Mondays

So I have started participating in a scripture memorization...thingy (yeah, I know, the brain's exhausted) from Megan at the O-Show. It's been fun for me to memorize scriptures that weren't part of the Seminary 100 nor part of the standard set of LDS references (you know what I'm talking about). It's also been helpful to have these verses at the ready when I study the scriptures.

But the real reason I'm blogging about this?

I'm not so good at memorizing. I solve this problem by making up songs for every single verse. So far, I've only done four and, quite frankly, I'm a little worried that the well of ditties is going to run dry before I memorize all that I would like to.

But most importantly, I have much more compassion and understanding for Vanja J. Watkins.

You know, the lady who set all 13 Articles of Faith to song.

I have always hated those songs. I know hate is a strong word and that I shouldn't use it, but may I say, "I hate those songs!"

They have odd melodies, no sense of theme or rhythm....they are just so dissonant to the spirit!
But now, after composing my own little ditties for scripture, I realize that a HUGE part of that is inherent in writing music for scripture when you're trying to leave the verse intact, word for word. Scripture, as a whole - not saying there aren't exceptions - does not have the poetry and rhyme that we are used to in song.

So, I figure I've gained understanding for someone where there previously was none, memorized 4 Bible verses (Eph 4:29, Ps 16:11; 73:25-26, and Deut 30:19) and come up with 4 ditties.

Not. too. shabby for two weeks work.

From the Bizarre to the Mundane

So, here's last night's dream. Because history shows that y'all are amazingly interested in these things!

This one involved Sylvester Stallone as my love interest (please - is he not old enough to be my dad?!) and Sean Astin as his son. [And seriously, I just got his photo and...eew.] And I'm me. They're working at a mechanic shop when I show up. Sly is under a car and chatter with them and then throw my checkbook down by a pillar next to them. This woman immediately snatches it up. I get angry and start asking for it back but she's rifling through it to get my account information. I go to take it from her and she hands it off to this man. Sly gets it back with physical force hurting the man and the woman in the process. He ends up loading myself and his son up in a big van. I'm in the back up against the windows (the one by my head has a curtain) but my legs can be seen through the other window. I'm eating an apple. Paparazzi are following us and Sly tells me, "Don't wave at the cameras."

At some point too Sean asks Sly about getting remarried and having more family. Sly says, "Well, I know just who I want to have a baby girl with but she won't marry me."

So, we're travelling. The roads are very hilly and have obstacles (mud pits) almost like a BMX track for cars. You also have the option at one point of leaving the roads and driving in the air. We stayed on the ground.

We drove next to this little old lady (Betty White?) with a boxed walker in the back. Somehow we know that this is the mean woman-who-took-my-checkbook's mom. Sly feels bad that the girl now needs a walker. And is touched by the fact that she has a mother who's willing to buy one for her and take care of her.

We come to a widening in the round (a big round spot, like a cul-de-sac but it has a road in and out). Suddenly, we're surrounded my cars. Men with guns come piling out. Betty gets killed and I get taken hostage and we're outta there.

Of course Sly comes to get me! He's just a step or two behind the kidnappers. He ends up killing a bunch of them (shooting them). For some reason Sean is now dressed as Spiderman but it's clear that it's just a costume. (If I were really talented, I'd photoshop a costume onto the boy above but I'm have no idea how.)

Then a bunch of kids come through, all dressed as Spiderman. Sly has been and gone looking for me and there's all these dead bodies. The kids enter, all ready to fight, only to find just dead bodies. Somehow I'm there too and my kids are because I keep covering up their eyes and wondering why I'm allowing them to watch this movie.

Then Quinn woke me up crying because Jenny scratched him.

I think I prefer the mundane reality.

(Then again, maybe if I had another male lead and a story line that didn't involve quite so much killing....)

What I Learned This Weekend

That too much overly rich Truffle Cheesecake can make one sick

That reading when you are too tired is bad for comprehension; that apostate professor is really an associate professor and my sons' school is not "not an equal opportunity provider."

Sitting too closely together on a church pew is very bad for reverence.

When a 5yo girl says, "I want to bear my testimony," believe her intent but believe her eyes will also get wider than the audience is large and that her voice will become inaudibly soft.

Cleaning the house for a potential buyer on Saturday, who then reschedules to Monday, means that you will have to do all that cleaning twice.

That SQUIRT (super quiet un-interrupted reading time) doesn't seem to mean the same thing to my kids as it means to me.

Why Is It...

...that every time I'm a hard ass I totally regret it?

I'm a cub scout leader. The other leader, Jennifer, has been called to YW and works night shift at the hospital (she's an RN). We've asked that she be released from her scout calling due to conflicts in time, etc.

I'm moving so it's up in the air as to how much longer I will be here and be able to be a cub leader.

So last den meeting I told the other two assistants that they were going to need to start stepping up to the plate more and Jennifer and I were going to fade into the background.

Today I talked with one of the assistants. She said, "I just can't be a leader right now."

Now, I could have asked her "Why not?" or "What going on?"

Not me.

Nope.

I push on with, "Well unless you want to ask to be released, you're just going to have to be. Jennifer's got to go and I'm up in the air."

She started to cry.

Oh heavens, I made a sweet woman cry today!

Maybe next time I feel like being a hard ass, I should remember the operative word is "ass."

BTW, is it good or bad that my cuss-o-meter keeps increasing?

Musical Tuesday

It would have been much more alliterative, and in theme, if today had been Monday but as Lulu says, "Today is tomorrow" and therefore Tuesday.

I have been singing. Loudly.

The kind of singing (is it a Freudian slip that I keep typing sinning?) that I only do when no one is around. (See how sinning would fit quite well into that sentence?)

It started this morning when I busted out with, "OOOOKlahoma where the wind comes sweeping down the plain! (Oklahoma) where the...." Really, it was just to belt the "OOOOOKlahoma!" out.

I must confess I was most likely off-key but I was singing with so much gusto, you would have loved it any way.

I have no idea where it came from.

I haven't been reading about Oklahoma.

The musical is one of my least favorite. (I generally don't like musicals by Rodgers and Hammerstein - I know. Sacrilege.)

I haven't heard any news about Oklahoma.

And I haven't met anyone named Laurie, Curly or Aunt Eller recently.

But there it was....

OOOOklahoma!!

Then I moved on to "Hark the Herald Angels sing," "Give Said the Little Stream," which are really more in theme with the season.

What can I say? It's been an odd day and I'm trying to keep my happy bubble afloat despite never ending bad news.

Did I tell you my daughter's preschool is being cut?

OOOKlahoma!

And that our little school district (1 hs, 1 middle school, 2 K-8 and 4 elementary) has to cut 750,000 dollars from it's budget for the rest of the school year?

OOOOklahoma!

And that Robert has less than 40 hours on this semimonthly paycheck?

OOOklahoma!

See? Bubble intact.

It's amazing how little bits of denial things like that work to make my day better.

And when we say
Yeeow! Aye-yip-aye-yo-ee-ay!
We're only sayin'
You're doin' fine, Oklahoma!
Oklahoma O.K.!

God Offerings

Life is...odd/amazing/weird.

Idk.

Pick an adjective.

I've been struggling of late with myself. I'm not sure how to write this - I want to be clear that I don't think it's a self-esteem issue. But I see myself, warts and all (with the warts sticking out more than the all) and I cringe. I see my faithlessness and my tendencies to wander from God and I get heartsick.

God is amazing. The work of Jesus humbles me. All that He does in my life, on a daily basis, is awesome. I love answers to my prayers. I love moments when He hugs me and tells me how much He loves me. I want to give Him something on par with who He is. Being human, I want to give Him the most expensive, shiniest, prettiest, most perfectest gift in the world. I want to give Him gold, frankincense and myrrh. And then I look at myself, this shriveled pinkie toe capillary and think, "Eeew. I don't want that. How can I give that to God?"

And while I know that I can't ever make myself the perfectest gift, I want it to be just a little bit better. Maybe if I work on this or that and get this trait better, then I .can approach God and give Him this gift that is just a bit better.

And so I turn away, sure that my gift isn't sufficient. Because for me, it's not the gift I want to give, the gift I believe God deserves. Of course, the self work never works. In fact, the harder I try on my own, the worse I seem to get.

This morning, though, God and I were talking. His words just poured out like crazy about how I, warts and all, but especially warts, am the only gift He wants to receive. He doesn't want or need big shiny, perfectest gifts but He does want and need me.

I love that.

His love overwhelms me. His mercy, His grace, His tenderness and His knowledge of me. God is good.

"....?!"

Conversation last night about 5 minutes prior to arriving at a baptism:

Quinn (7yo): Mom, why can't I have a girlfriend?
Me doing an impersonation of a fish.
Rhys: 'Cause Quinn already has a girlfriend.
Me: You do? Who's your girlfriend?
Quinn: Isabelle.
Rhys: Yeah, they even held hands in the hallways for an entire day.
Me, looking at Robert, still doing my fish impersonation.

I guess all our conversations about "dating" haven't quite covered it.

Instant Chocolate Cake

This post requires some effort on your part.

And a sense of daring.

A friend, umm, An aquaintance, someone emailed me a recipe for 5 minute chocolate cake. The recipe is as follows:

5 Minute Chocolate Mug Cake

1 Coffee Mug
4 T flour
4 T sugar
2 T baking cocoa
1 egg
3 T milk
3 T oil
Small splash of vanilla [Is this the equivalent of a tisp?]
3 T chocolate chips (optional) [REQUIRED! I'd through in more than 3T though! In fact, I did.] Some nuts (optional) [I just stuck my finger in - ha ha.]


Add dry ingredients to mug and mix well. Add the egg and other wet ingredients and mix thoroughly. Add the chocolate chips and the nuts and mix again.

Put your mug in the microwave and cook for 3 minutes on high. The cake will rise over the top of the mug, but don't be alarmed!

Allow to cool a little and tip out onto a plate if desired. EAT! (This can serve 2 if you want to share!) [Seriously? Who shares chocolate? And this is 5 minutes cake. Your friend can make her own.]

So I made this cake already and have my own opinions, but don't want to bias any of y'all. Give it a whirl. Let me know what you think.

I'm sure many of you smarties out there can already deduce my opinion but JUST PRETEND YOU DON'T KNOW and try this anyway.

Dewy Shoes

Hello?!

Anyone still there?

Can you believe I haven't blogged for, like, ever?

If you'd been in my head, you would have had more blogging than necessary but I'm guessing that none of you are the voices that live there? [Unless you are....are you?]

What to blog....what to blog....

Rhys' team took second place in their Elementary Water Polo Tournament and Rhys got a taste for how nasty water polo could be.

Dad: Hey Rhys, I saw you elbow that kid in the stomach.
Rhys: He wouldn't get off me!!

Rhys came out of the last game with red marks galore. But he still wants to play this spring.

Quinn will be testing for his blue belt in Tae Kwon Do in a few weeks. We've also discovered that there is quite a bit of scar tissue on his ears from the two sets of tubes he received but according to the audiologist (we went yesterday) he still manages to hear just fine. He also nearly beat me at Othello. He is wicked smart!

Lulu is sassy as ever and so in love with shoes. I bought three pairs (all thanks to Lizzie because I am so not a shoe hound) that were on clearance (I do love a good bargain) for only $4 each. Lulu was excited.

Lulu: Mom, what kind of shoes are these?
Me: They're just flip flops.
Lulu: Ooh, what kind of flip flops?
Me: Pretty ones.
Lulu: Here, put them on....now the other one. Oh, those are great.
Lulu: (standing at the door to my room) Come here Mom! (to the boys) Aren't these great shoes?

Two of my shoes are the same style but one is plain black and the other is faux snake skin. She wasn't impressed with the black ones but said, about the snake skin ones, "These look really good on me.

Seriously. Where did she get this gene? I had one pair of dress shoes up until a few months ago and those shoes were left over from when I worked full time so they were, ummmm, 8 year old (and they looked about 20). When I was a senior in high school, I didn't own a single pair of shoes (try finding a size 9.5 in Juneau, Alaska in 1993. Could. not. be. done.). And now my daughter? She LOVES shoes. Loves them.

And....because I've been storing this since the middle of October...

I MET SHERI DEW!!! (And yes, that is about as good as her smile gets.)

She is so my favorite LDS woman. I LOVE her. She has such a fabulous testimony and perspective.

I went to Time Out For Women in Portland in October, mainly because Sheri Dew and Chieko Okasaki would be there (met her too). At the end of the seminar, I whipped out of my seat and stood next to Sister Dew. She finally finished her conversation and turned to me.

Instant tears.

Yeah, I'm so classy.

"Iloveyouandthinkyouaresuchanamazingwoman!"

Yeah. I know. Don't you wish I would stalk you?

Sister Dew had clearly been through all this too many times in the past and, with the line stretching out behind me to meet her, wasn't quite as thrilled to meet me but it was a fun moment. I can die happy now.

Ummm...hmm..what else to say....

Anyone wanna see the shoes?

Poetic Park Prose

Days like today are magical. I've often been asked, "Which is your favorite, summer or winter?" I've always picked winter because of the hot temps of summer and the mystical grace of a world made pure white. As I've lived, though, I find my greatest joys are not in the extremes but in the beauty in between. Today is such a day.

I sit here at a park; the sound of children's laughter and the clink of grey chain link mix together in my ears. The sun is warm on my back and the wind blows, rustling the hair on my arms. A teenage maple tree sits at my side, her bark cracked and spotted by age, disease and human misuse. But she speaks ever so softly a sound that pierces the chaos and bleeds peace into my soul. The rise and fall and brush and dip of leaves sounding like debutantes petticoats at a cotillion. It's an elegant dance that seems endless in the warm spring wind.

Today is glorious - it moves me so because in the stillness is a soft voice that speaks of other wordly things. Oregon is not grand; it does not smack me in my face with a 2x4 pronouncing the existence of God as other places have. Alaska has the water and mountains and glaciers; Snoqualmie, the falls; and New Mexico, that amazing sky. But here in Oregon, God's presence can be felt in the mellow love of warm spring days and the shadowy embrace of a fully clothed maple.

written Spring 2007

[Have I mentioned that I'm a hopeless romantic?]

Next To Godliness

Cleanliness that is and since I've completely failed to maintain my dresser's blessed clean state alone I am reaching out to the greater blogging community for help - DDA as it were (dirty dressers anonymous - wow, no double entendre intended but that's pretty funny).

So, following Suburban Correspondent's shining example, I give you "the stuff I kicked off my dresser this week"; in other words, the difference between this...

and this...

is this.
To the far left, (and no, this is not a political statement Mr. Freud) we have the "garbage pile:"

• Quinn's Halloween poster
• Quinn's spelling test
• Quinn's pumpkin for the class calendar
• a broken button (which I didn't notice while wearing the sweater until after church was over)
• a 3 Musketeers empty wrapper (to be fair, it was actually full when I clean off my dresser but I deserve some chocolate for cleaning before 8am)
• 2 bank deposit slips and junk mail
• bouncy ball (must get thrown away because these cause nothing but mayhem and harm)
• a dead bit of plant that I cut off and must have missed
• an empty pencil case
• little bits of Halloween fun from Quinn's teacher (why, oh why do they send this stuff home?! I am so throwing it away before he realizes it's gone and wants it.)
• 3 used tissues and an empty ear plug bag (I snore, therefore I am)

Next, in the "Need To Be Put Away" pile (which does overflow a bit and touch the garbage pile):

• a thermometer (from when Lulu got sent home last Tuesday with a fever and yet, half an hour later, when I took her temperature at home, there wasn't one. Curiouser and curiouser.)
• 2 pieces of stationery for love letters
• a privacy policy from the clinic I went too (I never did blog about that....)
• a vehicle registration I've been looking for
• a box of tissues
• Lizzie's pink sweatshirt
• 2 pens, an orange crayon, a suitcase key (like I can use those anymore), an empty water bottle (which I will refill)
• sewing/mending bag
• rechargeable batteries, unused tissues, tampon
• recipes copied while tending the book fair last month
• two addresses that I need to copy into my address book
• Study information for Robert on outboards (it's what I put under the laptop when I'm using it in my room)
• P90X information - this is the workout stuff I've been doing with a friend (do you see now why I was so happy to have completed and entire workout?!) It's meant for people in shape not really overweight people so we're just mucking along.
  

Behind the "Need to be put away pile" are 4 dirty shirts that need to go in the wash.

On the far right are clean clothes to hang up (including my husband's dress pants and tie from Sunday - not political comments aside, I find it humorous that the far right includes dress pants and a tie).

And in the back right corner, my mending pile: Rhys' quillow and umbrella

Whew.

Done at last.

And yes, while I was typing I filled the water bottle, recycled stuff, threw stuff away, hung up clothes etc. (But I didn't mend anything; I simply put in it in the "mending pile" which is no longer on my dresser - procrastination is the stuff of life.)

See how good this is for me.

Just wait until I start posting on the laundry....

Cold Day in July

I found this and LOVED it so I decided to give it a whirl. I opened up all my songs (religious and non) on my mp3 player and shuffled everything and here's what I got:

1. Put Your iTunes, Windows Media Player, Winamp, etc on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS.
4. Put the artist after a dash following the song name.
5. Put any comments in brackets.
6. Tag some lucky people to spread the disease.

How would you describe yourself?
I Can Only Imagine - Mercy Me

How do you feel today?
She Talks to Angels - Black Crowes

What is your life’s purpose?
Lord I Lift Your Name On High - Mercy Me

What is your motto?
You Raise Me Up - Josh Groban

What do you think about very often?
Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes - Paul Simon

What is your life story?
Make Me Cry - Concrete Blonde (Could this be any more fitting?)

What do you want to be when you grow up?
Super Duper Love - Joss Stone

What will you dance to at your wedding?
After Ventus - Enya

What will they play at your funeral?
Annie's Song - John Denver (Will that be the name of Robert's second wife?)

What is your hobby/interest?
100 Years - Five for Fighting (I do want to live to be 100....)

If you could do anything right now, what would it be?
Miracle from Heaven - Kenneth Cope (Must be the year of miracles thing....)

What do you want most of all?
Soak Up the Sun - Sheryl Crow

What is your greatest fear?
If I Didn't Have you - Randy Travis

What is your darkest secret?
In a Little While - Uncle Kracker

What is your favorite thing in the world?
Follow Jesus There - Katherine Nelson

If you could have one wish, what would you wish for?
Man in the Sun - Kenneth Cope

What is your theme song?
Healing Water - Michelle Tumes

The next time you hear this song (aside from now, that is), you must dance.
Fairest Lord Jesus - Choir of Paisley (This is going to make sacrament meeting very interesting)

What will you post this as?
Cold Day in July - Dixie Chicks

Because I Just Can't Get Enough of Me

I haven't even been tagged and I'm doing this. Why? Because I just watched the recent episode of Grey's Anatomy but didn't really want to write (and didn't think anyone really wanted to read) another whiny piece on how surreal life is, death comes to us all and I just want to lie on my bed in the fetal position.

10 years ago:
1. I was pregnant, heavily pregnant, with child #1. He was born December 30 and over Christmas all I could think of was poor Mary, riding on a donkey from Galilee to Bethlehem. All I could think of was how to maim my physician when I came in on the 22nd and announced that I was two days overdue and she argued with me. SHE ARGUED WITH ME!! That the 22nd was really my due date. Really, who does that to a seriously fat pregnant woman? Apparently Dr. Kay Taylor of Issaquah, WA (never go to her.) I went home and cried (I know, shocking) because I was no where near delivering. And I so, SO, wanted to be done.
2. Rob and I were living in a tiny (600 sq. ft) house with 2 bed and 3/4 bath. In the "master bedroom," one window looked out on the local hardware store's parking lot and the other was only a few feet from the train track. Toot! Toot! So much fun when you're trying to take a much needed Sunday afternoon nap!
3. Got my first job post college as a file clerk. I was a file clerk with a BA making $8.50/hour with a 1/2 hour commute to Bellevue in nasty traffic. And you wonder why I laugh when people ask what I majored in. (Liberal Arts)
4. I cross-stitched like a mad fiend to get my SIL Julie's Christmas present done - the prayer of St. Frances of Assisi. Literally. I sat my heavily prego butt in a chair for two days straight trying to get the darn thing done before Christmas.
5. Spent a lot of time alone in that little house because Robert was going to school and working. Blech. And I knew no one in this new town. Blech. And I learned that it's near impossible to make friends in a new Mormon family ward when you're working because everyone one else is having family time when you're not working. Double blech.

Five things on my To-Do List today:
1. Get out of bed.
2. Do some laundry.
3. Don't cry.
4. Get out of bed.
5. Kiss Robert

Five Six things that I would do if I were a millionaire:
1. Pay off my house and keep as a rental property so we could move. Now.
2. Buy a house in Alaska with an apartment so my dad could live with us.
3. Let Robert buy more guns. And fishing equipment. And hunting trips. And cammo gear. And a boat - because the man needs a boat. And a quad or some other 4x4 vehicle. Maybe both. And a man cave. Because he needs a place to display his fabulous baseball cap collection (which is really more of a Snap-On/Mac hat collection - because they're free with a $500+ tool purchase).
4. Visit Europe (mais oui!)
5. Take the kids to Disneyland and Lego Land and somewhere where I could ride a real roller coaster for the very first time.
6. Buy some vomit bags for #5.


5 Places I have lived:
1. Juneau, Alaska - Amy had all these interesting things to say about the places she's lived. I'm trying to think of any thing noteworthy about Juneau. Technically, it's not even the state capital (that's Wasilla or Willow or some town in the greater Anchorage area) as voters chose to move it; they just never approved the funds to do so.
2. Santa Fe, New Mexico - it was brown. Very, very brown. I grew up surrounded by the very, very green. It took me four years (during which I acquired some HORRIBLE allergies) but I finally learned to love NM for the sunflowers and the amazing sky. And 10,000 Waves. Bliss.
3. North Bend, Washington - It was small. All housing was built either in the 70's or late 90's; there were LOTS of split levels.
4. Small Town, Oregon - I'm surrouded by Christmas trees, cows, pigs and sheep. And lots of scrubby oak trees that are draped with moss and lichen in the winter. If you drive by on I-5, I'll try and hit your car with a rock thrown from my front porch!
5. ? - umm...does it count if I lived there before my memories actually kicked it....Oooh, Even Smaller Town, Oregon where we lived with Rob's parents for 3 mo. It was the closest we've ever come to splitting. I'm so not kidding on this.


5 Jobs I've had:
1. Runner/Clerk for Legal Aid - I had thighs of steel from running up and down the hills of downtown Juneau.
2. Barista - is it anti-Mormon to say I loved slinging coffee? And I was really good at it? (My boss asked me once if that wasn't like being a pimp.) I had regulars that even sent me money at college - they loved me that much! And when I left, they stopped going because the coffee quality went downhill. I've always wondered how much I would love being an actual bartender. It'd probably be great except for the drunks.
3. Customer Service Rep for a Cruise Line - this is how I met my hubby, learned to play cribbage (which I've since forgotten), was personally seranaded by a Barbershop Quartet and had to report that my "20" was in the bathroom. Good times.
4. Bus Driver/Tour Guide - same cruise line/better tips. I ran over my step stool because I forgot it was there and managed to have two accidents while driving a bus. (All with inanimate objects - is that a good thing or a bad thing? Don't worry about my driving unless you happen to be sitting in a parked car.)
5. Orthodontic Assistant/Appliance maker - I learned that soldering is much more difficult than it looks and that the mouth heals quite quickly. I also learned that dental smocks can cover up a pregnancy until well in the 3rd trimester.

*sigh* I'm feeling better already. Thanks for being indulgent so I could cheer myself up!

Tagged 8 by Mary Ann

Are you getting tired of me being tagged? Really? Yeah, me neither. It's so fascinating to talk about me. I love it. And you love to read it too. Know how I know? Because you're still here! ;)

8 TV SHOWS THAT I LIKE TO WATCH:

• Grey's Anatomy
• Eli Stone
  
• Pushing Daisies
• Samantha Who?
  
• So You Think You Can Dance?
  
• Jeopardy
• Life
• Bones

8 THINGS I DID YESTERDAY: (is it bad that it took me awhile to remember?)

• Woke up and got out of bed
  
• Worked out for an hour (okay, it was just a bunch of stretching but we did it for a WHOLE HOUR!!)
  
• Picked 8 boxes of apples for and with a friend (she has a crazy idea of making applesauce) and a few bags for my family to eat
  
• Washed a few loads of laundry
  
• Tried to figure out if Oregon has a Senator yet.
• Went to Cub Scouts and played Dodge Ball.
  
• Wrote myself a paycheck (and did some other work for the business)
  
• Held a crying friend
  

8 THINGS THAT I LOOK FORWARD TO:

• The Afterlife - actually being able to have all of my loved ones near (including Mom)
• Robert coming home every evening
• My house selling
• Christmas
• Bedtime
• Jesus returning
• Going to the temple
• Lulu's Birthday

8 THINGS ON MY WISH LIST:

• Traveling the world (not that there are any plans for this one but someday...)
  
• Learn another language
  
• Selling my house
  
• Enough money to visit Lizzie in California after we both move (ach, don't make me cry)
  
• My children's health, happiness, continued well-being and a close relationship with Jesus
  
• A new back for Robert
  
• That the move will go smoothly
  
• Becoming the person I want to be and loving who I am
• And yes, I can count, I know this is nine but still, to write a book
  

I'm too tired to chase after and tag anyone. Consider this a freebie.

Elementary First Aid

Quinn brought home a self-illustrated booklet on first-aid. It includes some rules for preventing burns, "Dont go nere a verv hot stov." as well as three additional, important rules:

1. Dont let eny body push you down.
2. Dont get some body get you mad.
3. Dont get some body els verv mad and puth them mad.

What do these rules have to do with first-aid you ask?

Simple.

"Write 3 rules to stop cuts and scratches before they happen."

After all, he is my second boy.

My Quirks

I've been tagged!! Even after a year of blogging, being tagged still makes me smile. Thank you Zillah. You are so being added to my Christmas list!

So, I'm supposed to list my quirks. You'd think that I would have a whole novel to write wouldn't you but it's actually kinda hard to put all this to paper. Uh, computer.

1. I'm anal about spelling (although I make errors and still love those who can't spell, cough, DH.) and grammar. I'm forever correcting my children (Lulu gets a huge amount of this - it's gave not gived), my husband and even perfect strangers although I do apologize because I realize it's rude. Sometimes I just can't help myself.

2. I'm a little dramatic. Just a little. (Okay, maybe that last bit was a lie.) I use hyperbole all. the. time. I yell, I raise my voice, I cry, I laugh, I dance; I'm a regular after-school special. Is it saying something when you exhaust yourself?

3. I love being naked in between clean sheets. Feels so good.

4. I love being the same as those around me and I love being the odd ball out. I can never tell which is going to hit me at any given moment. But I like to fit in and at the same time I want to be a non-conformist. Is this just saying that, like so many others, I'm never happy? Or is this saying that Gemini was in the 7th house or something at the time of my birth? I may never know but I do occasionally wonder if my birthday should have been in June instead of August.

5. While I see myself as a bad housekeeper (or average depending on view point) they are somethings I cannot tolerate.

Videos must be alphabetized and arranged by viewers; there's a section for Robert, for me, for the boys and for the family and a whole 'nother section for "church videos" which are really Living Scriptures and Liken.

My books are organized as well. I have (or had when they weren't in tons of boxes) a section which is children's books that are mine that my children are not supposed to handle without my express permission or my presense, a section of educational books and then a section of picture books that I actually let them read and fondle (which, I must add, is far bigger than the section they can't touch). There is a section for kids' chapter books, a section for family history and then sections for literature, philosophy, child rearing, crafts and Harry Potter. Zillah has me beat on the color and size sorting - I think about doing that but then little hands destroy my work and well, I just get tired of so much sorting.

CD's should be alphabetized as well. Really, everything should be alphabetized. My children are even in reverse alphabetical order (R, Q, E).

My hanging clothes are sorted by pants, sweatshirts, nice shirts, every day shirts and dresses/skirts. All of the every day shirts are sorted by color so that they look a bit like a rainbow.

I think I have a touch of OCD. (which really, IMH, should be CDO).

6. I find/look for patterns in everything. You may think I'm kidding but I'm so not. My second son's birthday is six days after his aunt's (Robert's sister) birthday and her second son's birthday is six days after mine. Did you know facetiously is an English word that uses all of the vowels, including y, in alphabetical order?

7. I'm an incurable romantic who still gets a thrill out of romance novels. The thing is, I totally adopt the feelings of the heroine. I just read a book that I didn't like at all. The hero was, well, not quite so heroic and there was a lot of needless drama (being sold as a white slave, blah, blah, blah, keep it simple folks!). So the heroine felt all icky and I felt all icky reading it. Why did I keep reading? Because I wanted my happy ending! She should have dumped the hero's ass and moved on. Course they ended up reconciling (me vomiting) and I will end up returning the book to my library's paper back exchange section. Or burning it because (see quirk #4) I do like to burn books on occasion and have even (gasp) burned a Bible. (It's a long story but the short of it is that it was molded beyond use and needed to be burned.)

8. I'm the same way with movies. I will cry, I will laugh and I will yell at them not to get in the car or go down the stairs into a basement when the light switch doesn't work. (Hello?! Have none of these inappropriately dressed Barbies ever seen or heard of a horror flic? Don't they know Tommy's already dead and they're next?) I will hide my face or leave the room or change the channel if they are doing something really embarrasing. I love She's the Man but I do end up hiding my face quite a bit.

9. I like animals. I think every child should be raised with one. But I don't like to have animals living with me. I don't like finding hair every where and I don't like picking up poop. (Thank goodness my boys do that these days.)

10. I like to put my ear on DH's chest and listen to his heart beat. It means he's still alive. I do the same thing to my kids, when they let me. There's nothing in the world as soothing and comforting as a loved one's heart beat. I also like tummy gurgles.

11. When I'm sad or having a really bad day, I will go someplace quiet and imagine myself sitting on Heavenly Father's lap and just letting Him rock me and stroke my hair.

12. I see things move in my periferal vision ALL THE TIME. I'm convinced it's ghosts or other odd things. Or maybe just me glancing at something too quickly to properly process what I'm seeing. Whatever. (See #7) I prefer the ghost theory.

13. This is my favorite number. I also have a special place in my heart for black cats. (Maybe I'm really a witch.) But my real quirk is that I can keep houseplants alive and I can get (most) stains out of clothing. Not a big deal you say? Well, I couldn't do either of those when I got married and starting having kids but now, 11 years later, I'm pro.

Now the fun part, this is so much better then running around in circles and dying from hyperventilation and a heart attack, I get to tag other people. I would really like to hear from all my local friends: Elizabeth, Mary Ann, Carrie, Shelby, Gina and Lacey. I would also (but would really be amazed if they responded) like to tag BiV and Jill (consider this a possible post for NaBoBooBooMo or whatever). And Stephanie, and Mia, and On7 and any anonymous person. IF YOU READ THIS BLOG AT ALL, EVER, consider yourself tagged.

Miracle Update #3

Well, I'm finally getting around to some report on my activities. If I were an organized girl, I would probably post a link to the first Miracle Post but I always forget....Maybe someday but don't hold your breath.

1. Read my scriptures, cover to cover, book to book. I think I'll put the Miracles in orange, an homage to the season. So, I am no where near on target for this to happen but I have started a good regular study period. I finished the Book of Genesis and almost the Book of Moses. I joined an online LDS Bible Study group. The dialogue is greatly somewhat lacking but it's nice to post what I think and to read the thoughts of one other person others

2. Run a mile in less than 10 minutes. I, Maraiya, have started working out. "What?!" you say. "We know," you cry, "You blogged about it before." Yeah, well, truth be told, it only lasted a week. I know, I know. Like I said, I'm waiting for the magical workout that I only have to do once, ever, and be fit for.ever. But now I have a consistent partner (we've worked out two days in a row) and a consistent time (would you believe 5AM!! I would have put the 5 in caps too but that just comes out like this: %, which would be completely confusing!).

As far as the time thing goes, I have a trick to that (because really, getting up before 7/8am is just cruel and unusual). I didn't set my clock back. More, I set it forward 15 minutes. So when I get up at 4:45 am (blech, blech and double blech) I look at my clock and in my groggy coma-like state think, "Oh, it's 6am! Not so bad." And then I get up. If the clock actually said 4:45am, I might have to do something like fall on a knife or just roll over and go back to sleep.

6. Find a charity to support and donate, even a buck every month. Well, I did donate in September to Hopeline which supports 800-SUICIDE. I had hoped to give more in October but no one is spending money to fix their cars which means DH's paychecks are lame which means my resources for donating are limited. I did round up my purchases at Safeway and donated to Breast Cancer Research. I think that counts.

9. Monthly dates with my DH. Through no thought or planning of my own, we did manage to go on a date in October. A friend of the family and surrogate mother and grandmother to us, offered to take all three of my children for the evening. Fabulous. We went to dinner and then opted to just buy two new DVDs and take them home instead of paying to watch a movie. I got Clue. I just LOVE that movie! I laughed, I cried (not really), I was a happy girl.

And we're actually starting to get better about having a conversation between just the two of us. We still have silences as we try to avoid discussion of kids, money and other crises but it's getting better.

10. Volunteer or, potentially, substitute in HS math. I have decided not to worry about this one this year. I am feeling overwhelmed with getting things ready for Alaska (just realized that we need to give some thought to marketing our new area of my dad's business), helping my kids, keeping my home relatively clean etc. etc. Plus, Alaska does have an MAT program (University of Southeast. It's going to be tough to get in though (ha!) so keep your fingers crossed.) so I think my time would be better spent volunteering up there so I can establish connections with the community there. (I firmly believe in the old, "It's not what you know, it's who you know.")

16. Attend a temple endowment session. At least once. Potential bonus points for additional visits.
17. Attend a temple initiatory session. BONUS POINTS! BONUS POINTS! Would you believe I squeaked in another visit and did both again. Love it. Trying to get back again and store up all the memories like nuts because I won't be able to go in Alaska.

21. Find hope again. You may find this hard to believe, what with my many "happy" posts and all, but this one is actually coming along. I'm feeling a bit more stable (this month at least), feeling less down on myself (I totally rock) and feeling better about my mother's passing and that God is blessing my life.

24. Get the photos on my computer developed.
25. Get the photos sitting on rolls of film in my closet developed. So, #24 is officially toast, unless I mean the photos I've been taken recently, which could be a possibility but I just spent LOTS of money developing film. Yeah, I know. I should do it more often than once a year or two or three.

26. Clean off my bedroom dresser.
27. Keep my bedroom dresser clean for one week. Sing it with me, "Doin' a little dance...cause I'm so done"

Not so bad. Progress. And that's what I'm going for here because for me? Reaching for Progress instead of Perfection is a miracle in and of itself.

Scary Halloween Tales

I know - everyone's doing it. Here's my recap on our Halloween:

Yesterday, my son refused to wear his Sonic the Hedgehog costume because he was embarrassed by the way it looked. He came home and saw the ears I made for him, because Sonic has ears, and scoffed. He got dressed, though, because that's what one does when threatened persuaded with a strong does of mother love.

I will admit - I'm no Jill, but I thought I did a good job with skills I have in making an approximation of Sonic. My son disagreed and semi-sulked through the whole Trick or Treat downtown yesterday afternoon. (Semi because, really, how hard is it to pull of a whole sulk when people are voluntarily giving you candy?)

Then, a couple of cute young teenage girls recognized him (no one else did the entire day) and kept ooh and aahing over Sonic, "We love you Sonic!" in a way that only young females can. Rhys was completely stoked that he was recognized and proceeded to tell me that night (totally paraphrasing here) that next time he won't judge a costume based on how it looks. Next time, he'll be patient and understand that dorky looking costumes can still be cool. Maybe next time he'll even wear the costume to school. (He was one of three 4th graders who didn't dress up.)

This morning, I'm still contemplating selling him to the gypsies - it's a good thing we didn't run into any last night.

Quinn kept being called a Power Ranger. As if. He was Bumblebee the Transformer. I mean, they've already put out one movie with a sequel due out soon and NO ONE knew who Bumblebee was. Seriously. Poor kid. He was even carrying a Transformer bag. Too bad Patrick Jane wasn't there - he would've figured it out!

We got home at about 9:30pm last night and my daughter had crashed in the car during the long drive home. I carried her into the house (we still had to wash the red hair spray out of her hair as she has been Ariel - her favorite and my least favorite princess) only to make her stand up and put her costume back on because we had to go visit neighbors who put together special candy for our kids.

Today, I'm spending the day letting my children gorge themselves on candy, TV and computer games. All so I can lie about reading, catching up on all my favorite shows, blog and not make a real meal. (I did make them eggs this morning to add some protein to all that sugar.)

Yeah, I know -- bad costume, threatening sale to Gypsies, torturing half asleep children and feeding them nothing but high-fructose corn syrup....I'm one of those mothers.

Lulu, What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?

Lulu: Ariel.

Me: No, when you are an adult like me. What do you want to be?

(long thinking pause)

Lulu: Ursula.

Last Night's Dream

So those weird dreams I've been having? I finally remembered one. I guess part of the key to remembering them is to review the dream once you're awake instead of just trying to remember a "code word."

I was teaching a youth class at church. I walked in expecting the handful of students that I normally have but the room was packed. Everyone was sitting in little groups by tables and there was a hodge podge of youth and adults. Some of the people I couldn't really tell their age because I remember them from high school, which, clearly, has been a while for me. I even started to use a microphone because there were so many people and I wanted to make sure that they could hear me.

I started with a warm-up (because I'm a firm believer in those). I can't quite remember what the warm-up was but they were guessing REALLY random things. They started to get close with the idea of tithing (the word slips in my hands were talents - 10/5/1 and then Celestial, Terrestial and Telestial) but even when I encouraged them to continue in the money vein they went all over the place again. I was getting frustrated. Then music started to play.

All of a sudden, though I vaguely remember seeing it before in the dream, there appears this intricate system of stereos all tied together so that when one tape (yes, I said tape) finished playing, the other would start automatically. Some of those stereos were set to play LOUDLY! So I run around turning all those stereos off when who pops up but Dr. Phil. (I noticed him in the class earlier and quite frankly, his presence made me nervous like when members of the bishopric come to Young Women's and then stay to hear and to observe your lesson. Not a good time.) He starts to take charge while I'm dealing with the stereos and removes the tables and sets the chairs up in a typical classroom fashion. By the time he's done I'm down from a crowd (say 40-50 students) to 2 students. 2. I'm sure you can imagine my response.

I totally start crying and Dr. Phil starts teaching the class and I leave feeling humiliated and completely undermined. I start walking and notice some of the class students. I try and talk them back to class, ask why they leave and end up testifying to a few of them.

Then I woke up.

What a trip. Definitely not as fun as the Jennifer Garner dream, but hey, at least I remembered this one.

I think it all means that I am too immersed in pop culture and I need to start spending time with other things to keep Jennifer Garner and Phil McGraw out of my sleeping head! :)

Insert Lame Title Here

I was going to title this "Not much to say" but apparently I've already used that title. That's just bad form. But I'm sitting on my front porch on this gloriously sunny October fall afternoon. The air is warm with a hint of chill; the countryside is filled with color - glorious yellows, red and oranges against a backdrop of dark evergreen; my children are playing with the neighbor kids in what used to be our garden patch but is now a big empty space of dirt - perfect for digging and creating all sorts of worlds and adventures. And I am blogging.

How could life get any better than this?

I thought I would share a good moment as I'm so talented at sharing the less than happy ones.

I would like to share some funny moments - you know, try and join the "funny haha woman club" but it's Sunday afternoon and, like all good Mormons out there, my brain is comatose and I really just want a good nap.

I will say, though, that for the past month I have been having crAazy dreams - you know, the kind you usually have when you're pregnant (and no, I'm not). I wanted to write some of them down just for kicks (and because I thought they might make entertaining posts) but the only one I remember was one in which I was Jennifer Garner (Jennifer from Elektra or Alias as opposed to wussy Catch and Release Jennifer) and I was awesome and all this stuff was happening so I told myself to just remember the general theme (Jennifer Garner/Elektra/Alias) and I would be good. So, now that's all I remember.

It's like when I was a teenager and had a terribly romantic, happy dream that involved cowboys. I woke up, thought I should write it all down (but was too tired) and so I remembered the code word (cowboys) and went back to sleep. That's all I remember to this day.

Wow - I'm really reaching here.

We went to the pumpkin patch yesterday. I think my kids have reached that in-between age when they think they're too old to like such lame, little kid activities and not quite old enough that they realize the little kid activities are really all the fun things in life. They whined about posing for photos, "Look like you're having fun damnit!" They played in the kid area but only because they wanted to climb on top of the playhouses and climbing structures, "Sure kids, go play. No wait, stop climbing, be respectful, mind your manners and stop climbing on top of all the toddler toys." The pumpkin choosing process was blah and I'm sure only done because of the possibility of Mom letting them carve said pumpkins on their own with a knife. A large one. Because that would be manly. The tractor ride was stinky and they sat on the benches as opposed to the straw bales. They whined for ice cream and barely had any interest in the animals, aside from torturing them, "Stop chasing the ducks! Don't poke your finger in that cage, the rabbit might bite you."

It was a painful event for all. I almost found myself saying, "Have fun or else every one gets a time out!!" but I managed to refrain (although the rest of the above is true enough).

Maybe it's a good thing we couldn't take the family photo yesterday afterall.

Remember That Dresser....

The one I kept relatively clean for a week?

Look at it now sisters!

See what happens when y'all stop looking?

It's pitiful.

I may need to pull a page out of Suburban Correspondent's blog and give an update on my dresser each week. I have a feeling though that piles of paper will be less exciting than a mystery food shriveled beyond immediate recognition.

Political Ramblings

I thought I had decided whom to vote for in the presidential elections. I looked at my ballot yesterday (Oregon uses a mail-in ballot system for all registered voters) and I was stymied. Happily, I have the measures figured out (those tend to be easier than the candidates) and a few other offices. Some positions have helped in either having NO candidates to chose from (damn - I missed my opportunity! I could have been on the ballot! - Really that was my first thought on seeing the words "No Candidate Filed" for the Soil & Water Conservation Director. My next thought was, "What the heck do I know about soil and water conservation?" So I guess it's a good thing I didn't run.) or by only having one candidate as I make it point not to vote for those running unopposed unless I strongly support them. I figure they're winning by default anyway, so what does it matter?

The offices for President and VP have an amazing array of candidates (6) here in Oregon. Ralph Nader is now in the Peace party (did the Green party kick him out?), whatever that is, with Cynthia McKinney for the Pacific Green party, Bob Barr for the Libertarian party and Chuck Baldwin for the Constitution party (who is, by the way, endorsed by Republican Ron Paul - a little know Republican candidate for President but who had more delegate votes than Giuliani). And then, of course, Obama and McCain. It looks so plain and simple on paper, so much less colorful and strident than the conventions and debates but I'm still at a loss.

I don't know, must be the "maverick" in me but whom I want to vote for changes depending on whomever I'm around. At Time Out for Women (a conference for LDS women) the air was palpable with McCain support. I wanted to holler out, "OBAMA!!!"

At home, the yards are full of Obama/Biden signs. One home has the Obama logo painted onto their white picket fence. I want to buy the biggest McCain/Palin sign and post it in my yard. Heck, maybe I should just paint it on the roof.

I guess my problem is at the end of the day, I don't hear much in what either of them say beyond campaign rhetoric. They each try to convince me that they didn't make this mistake but their opponent sure did and how they will each be the one to save the US from our current crises but the other one will only make it worse.

Is it disrespectful to just hang my ballot on a wall and throw a dart? Yes? Damn.

I made a comment to Julie, my SIL, that I was wishing for the good ol' days when elections just seemed to much more cut and dried and simple. The other half of that is that I don't think they had nearly the amount of information available for perusal as we do. Is there such a thing as too much information? (Clearly, not in some of my previous posts.)

Overall, though, I am really tired of all the finger pointing (you know the old adage about where those other four are pointing...). Most of the campaign ads I see are all about how terrible their opponent is and few make any real statements about the candidate himself. I also get tired of verbose speaking that leaves the question essentially unanswered. I started to watch the debates but after half an hour of not answering the questions directly, I got a little bored with it and decided they weren't helping my decision making process at all.

So I'm stuck.

A friend mentioned that she was voting for McCain because she felt strongly against "partial birth abortions" which Obama has supported. I agree with her on that but I would be surprised if McCain actually did anything to make partial birth abortions illegal during his tenure. So should that really be the basis for my vote?

And there's this whole bailout thing - I didn't want it to happen but I concede that it may just have to happen to protect the economy but given that it has to happen, do we really have to pile pork on top of that? Seriously? I mean I love ham but has Congress been dealing so much with billions and trillions of dollars that a few hundred million become just pocket change? And I know Congress is not the President, but I just get so sick of Washington that I'm ready to strap on a few of those arms I have the right to bear and stage a major coup!

Exept I abhor guns and can't stand the thought of killing someone. Minor conflict.

I told you this was ramblings....at least you were forewarned.

That ballot-on-the-wall-dart thing is sounding better and better.

I Hab Uh Code

I was ready. I was going to write the happiest post, full of inspiring moments from my weekend in Portland when I got hit by Typhoid Sally. Okay, nothing that serious but I'm miserable. Chills, sweats. I can't breathe; even when my nose is clear I don't feel like I can drag in enough oxygen. I'm coughing so much that my throat hurts to swallow and drinking so much OJ that certain trips to the bathroom leave me feeling the fire. My nose is sore from Kleenex and my head just wants to be horizontal. Do you know how heavy a human head is? Heavy! Believe me. My neck can barely hold it up.

I could whine some more but I'm trying to be happy. See?

Yeah, I know. Fake happiness doesn't quite cut it. Suffice it to say that I am doing much better now (in spirit) although my body is bounding toward my grave. Sue may be hypochondriacal but I am filled with drama. Forget drama queen, I am the Drama Empress. Now you can say you know someone famous.

I swear, cheerful post forthcoming.

I bet you didn't know that my favorite Winnie-the-Pooh character was Eeyore did you?

I know. You're shocked. And awed too.

Nyquil...here I come!