sweet potato pie

::Hiatus::

2011-03-24T11:47:00.000-07:00

As you've probably guessed by now, SPP is on hiatus. I've just got nothin' to say that inspires a blog post: I haven't run into any parked cars lately, I haven't had to take a dump on the grounds of a church, and there's no political race inspiring me to rant. The inside of my brain is ridiculously pink and happy and full of unicorns and rainbows, and we all know there is nothing more boring than reading about how happy someone is. Snore.

So when the shit hits the fan (as I'm sure it will) or I do something to embarrass the crap out of myself (sometimes literally), I'll post then. Otherwise, you can find me on Facebook.

In the meantime, feel free to browse through some of my most popular/entertaining/embarrassing posts, listed over there on the left.

laughing till I cry

2011-01-28T13:09:00.001-08:00

I just discovered "Damn You Autocorrect" and I seriously just had to let a call go to voicemail because I CANNOT. STOP. LAUGHING.

Hoooboy. I needed that today.

30 years ago today...

2011-01-05T09:47:00.001-08:00

...Bill Pogue, father/husband/friend/brother was killed along with his friend and coworker, Conley Elms. My sister Jodi has done 30 days of tributes to him, funny stories and pictures and notes and drawings...things to help us remember him and to teach the grandchildren who their grandpa was.

So many horrible things were said about him after he was murdered; that was the tactic of the defence attorneys: to "justify" his murder. It was sickening and infuriating and so wrong. Yes, he was a hard-ass as a Game Warden, but only because he cared so deeply about the conservation of wildlife. To those who knew and loved him, he was wickedly funny, a gifted artist and a teacher of all things wild. He taught us to pay attention when we went out into the woods: to listen to the wind, to identify birds, and to notice where deer had bedded down for the night. He was also prone to practical jokes and wild exaggerations.

I so, so wish he and Anna had known each other; she is so much like him: a wildly funny little nature-girl who always, always has a pencil in her hand, drawing. When we drive in the car, she notices the clouds and the trees and from the time she could point and talk, she has always been the first one to spot wildlife on our hikes.

Jake was the only grandchild dad met, and he was SO proud:

The above photo is of dad with his best friend Jerry. They were camping in the Jack's Creek area of S. Idaho, one of dad's favorite places. On the back of the photo, in dad's writing, is this quote:

"If there is a future for wild things, then it is the burden of those who have reached farther than me, to save them for the rest of us. It will be done by those whose convictions were forged in campfires."
-Bill Pogue

Dad, you made the world a better place. You are missed.

Ooooh nooooo

2010-12-15T16:16:00.001-08:00

Like many people, we have a mouse problem this time of year. We (ie. David) has caulked and nailed and plugged holes with steel wool. The good news is they are no longer frolicing on our dishes and partying in the silverware drawer, because that? Made me want to burn the entire house down.

No, now they just scamper around on our kitchen counters. After finding banana after banana having been burrowed into and hollowed out (which, I admit, is sort of cute but still....eewww), we took to putting the bananas in the bread box. There is NOTHING left out on our counters that resembles food, and yet every morning, I find still mouse poo in the corners and behind the blender. Which causes me to go all Mommy Dearest with the Clorox cleaning products.

As you know, we live with a small, tyrannical animal-rights activist. We have been warned not to kill any mice in our attempts to discourage them from eating our food and, you know, leaving hanitvirus on our forks.

Which means, of course, that we just waited until she went to her dad's for the week before setting up our ammo. David had purchased some high-tech contraption that looks like a harmless black box that you put some dog food in and then, when they go in, basically shocks the shit out of them. I'm sure he researched the crap out of that thing before purchasing it but the fact is? It doesn't work. So I set out a couple of the good old-fashioned snap traps.

First morning: nothing.

And then? This morning....the trap had indeed been set off. But there was no dead mouse. Instead (oh I can hardly bring myself to even write this) there was a tiny pool of blood behind it.

Gulp.

That's right: I am WORSE than a mouse killer. I am a MOUSE MAMER.

Anna must never know of this. I threw that damn mouse trap in the garbage and will never use one again. And I'm going to buy some very tiny baindaids and a shot of whiskey and leave them on the counter when I go to bed tonight.

Sigh.

It gets better

2010-11-23T10:44:00.000-08:00

In response to the recent rash of gay-teen suicides, writer Dan Savage started the "It Gets Better" video project. It's such a simple, yet beautiful idea: gay men and women who made it through years of bullying and and pain and rejection and came out on the other side, tell their stories to encourage gay teens to stay strong and to stay alive, because it does get better. So many people, from musicians and actors to "regular" people and even President Obama have participated in this project, including this new video by some of the employees of Pixar:

Also, there is another blog you might want to check out. One of my best friends from high school, Mitch and I reconnected on Facebook after having lost touch for many (like 20) years. I was not at all surprised to learn, when we reconnected, that he is now living as an openly gay man; I'd suspected during our high school years in southern Idaho that he was gay, but understandably he was in denial to himself and the world at that time. What I was surprised about is that he is Mormon!! It seriously took me weeks to wrap my head around that fact. How could my gay, progressive, liberal friend be Mormon??? But according to him, he could no sooner choose to not be Mormon than he could choose not to be gay. Ok. I have to respect that. And even more so, I respect the fact that he refuses to hide who he is. He was won over the leaders of his stake (in San Fransisco, so of course they must be a bit more tolerant) and even teaches Sunday school.

The really wonderful part is that Mitch is very active in getting the Mormon leadership to change their stance on gay people so that others, like him, can live their authentic lives while pursuing their religious/spiritual beliefs. He has stood up and outed himself and demanded respect for who he is so that others can do the same. He has spoken out in front of many LDS congregations, from SF to Seattle, sharing this which he wrote. It is beautiful and powerful and thought-provoking. I am so, so proud of him!

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

2010-11-18T10:27:00.000-08:00

zzzzzzzzzzz....oh. Hi. Yeah, I'm awake. Are you??

Well, clearly I don't have much to write about lately. BUT! For those of you who know that I've been battling this...fatigue thing for the past 5-6 months, there is good news! I FEEL BETTER!! I FEEL NORMAL!! This is a huge relief because I was beginning to think that "exhausted" was my new normal.

I'm not sure what caused this shift in energy for me. Two things I've done differently in the past week or two: I've been running again and I can't tell you how much I needed that. It's a catch-22 when you don't have energy, because the last thing you want to do is exercise, but I know I feel better and more energetic when I do. So that's helping.

And I tried acupuncture. When we were in Boston recently a few of us were chatting and the topic of acupuncture came up. David's brother Jim has an awesome new girlfriend, and she mentioned that she had suffered from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome years ago, and the thing that finally cured her was acupuncture. Well I have made many, many visits to my conventional doctor, my naturopath, and a pulmnologist over the past several months, with NO improvement, so I figured trying acupuncture was worth a shot. The guy I went to is also a practitioner of Chinese Medicine (which I guess goes without saying for an acupuncturist) and in addition to the poking, he gave me some Chinese herbs.

So I don't know if it's the running, or the acupuncture or the herbs or a combination of the three, but I AM SO BACK, BABY!! It feels GREAT to feel great again.

Look out world, I'm ready to kick some ass.

::doing the right thing isn't always easy::

2010-10-14T09:28:00.001-07:00

Remember how a couple of weeks ago I wrote about how I was determined to someday get my daughter a horse? Yeah, well, said child has an uncanny ability to recognize when my resolve is weakening. So somehow it went from "Honey, I know that you want a horse more than anything in the world and I want to make that happen for you someday" to "We might buy a horse this weekend!" I know! Jeezus, between my impulsiveness and her ability to pounce on an opportunity, it's a miracle we didn't run out and buy an entire horse ranch while David was out of town all week. For one thing, she and I went to go see "Secretariat" and I got all "Nobody is going to tell me I can't get my daughter a horse!"

Well, nobody except for my calm, reasonable and maddeningly rational husband. And he didn't exactly say "no", although I think the word "divorce" might have been bandied about. Actually, he gently and calmly reminded me that buying a horse for a ten year old child is not a great idea IF you are trying to raise a child to grow up to be a productive member of society who understands that one must WORK for what she wants.

Then I talked to Kami, the gal from whom we currently lease a horse and my go-to gal for all horse-related questions. She told me that she thought it would be best to wait, because the rider that Anna is now is not the same as the rider she will be in a couple of years. So if we bought a horse to suit Anna's needs and abilities now, in 2-3 years we'd be looking to replace it with, say, a barrel-racer or whatever.

Somewhat coincidentally (or maybe not) my friend Jennifer mentioned in an email how her first-born child is driving her mad because he is lazy and doesn't want to have to work for anything. In fact, he can't be bothered to get his driver's license because it's "too hard" and too much work. That does sound a lot like a certain 10 year old I know. And I'm smart enough (barely) to know that we want to nip that behavior in the bud right now.

So yeah. I knew that I had to go home after work and break my daughter's heart, because I am a BIG FAT IMPULSIVE DUMB SHIT who got her hopes up and basically said to her "Nobody is going to tell us what to do! Let's go buy a horse!"

As soon as I got home, I sat her down and had the talk. I explained it all to her, why it was important to wait, both Kami's argument that she will grow and change as a rider a lot in the next couple of years, and also how I realized (without implicating Davey as the bad guy) that one of my most important jobs as a parent is to teach her the value of working toward something. How it will actually be a lot more satisfying for her to earn it and she'll appreciate that lesson later in life....blah blah blah.

And then the crying and wailing and sobbing and thrashing and gnashing of teeth commenced. She was, as expected, disappointed and heartbroken and I felt like the worst. parent. ever. I knew I was doing the right thing, I was just so mad at myself for getting her hopes up. I held her for awhile while she cried and then she wanted me to go away. At one point I checked on her and she had pulled the hide-away bed out and was under it, crying and "working on something". I figured it was a note of the "I'm running away from home" sort, but I should have known better. This kid expresses herself through drawing. Eventually she came out of the room with a smirk on her face and handed me this:

(in case you can't read that, it says: "No! Not til you're 122! Oh wait you'll be dead by then. Did I mention I lied? Sucks for u.")

Yeah. OUCH.

For a split second I was devastated, but then I couldn't help but burst out laughing. This kid knows how to WORK it, doesn't she?

I went in and said "So this is how you see me, with glowing red eyes and big fangs?"

"AND A BIG NOSE", she made sure to point out.

Then we laughed and hugged and she was all better.

Why didn't anyone TELL me parenting was so hard? I HATE having to be the grown-up. Luckily I have a pretty great kid, with a big, beautiful, forgiving heart. Sigh.

::My new craft obsession::

2010-10-13T10:00:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday my friend Sarah and I, along with my kiddo, went to a really wonderful bead store and spent 3 HOURS making earrings. It was so much fun! I was like a kid in a candy store. All the colors and textures; glass, shell, bone, stone...the possibilities were endless!

Well, I spent most of Sunday night literally dreaming about earrings and beads and by the time I woke up on Monday I knew what I had to do: play hooky from work, go the to bead store and change my entire esty site from handbags to earrings. As you know, I can be a wee bit impulsive. Go ahead, laugh. I'll wait.

(For those of you who do not know this about me: I am the person who decided to marry the man I'd known for all of 12 hours after meeting him on match.com. Oh, and we hadn't actually met in person; he was in Alaska and I was in Washington state. We'd only emailed and talked on the phone for a few hours. But I knew he was the one. A few days later he flew down to meet me and we pretty much got engaged that weekend. And now I have the most amazing husband in the world. So who's laughing now, huh? Huh??)

Ahem.

So Monday morning I got up, applied for a business license (something I just could never bring myself to do as a maker of handbags for some reason) and Washington State Resellers Permit, and went off to the wholesale bead store for supplies and tools. All this with a whopping 3 hours of experience under my belt. I then spent Monday afternoon making earrings.

Here's a funny aside: I had an idea of how I wanted to photograph them for my etsy site; I have a glass "vase" thing that I put smooth dark rocks in. I planned to use that and I wanted some greenery and/or fall colors in the background. So yesterday at lunch I went out into the Palouse countryside to take photos. I had driven up this country road and found the perfect spot: an old gate with some beautiful trees behind it. So I got all set up and was taking photos when this rusty, beat up little pick-up comes screaming past. They slam on their breaks and back up at 30 miles an hour, and I'm pretty sure I heard the theme song from "Deliverance".

The passenger leans out the window and asks "What are you doing?" "Just taking some pictures", I reply calmly, wondering if I'm on private property or something. "Of rocks in a vase on a fence??" he asks, incredulously. "Of some jewelry I made. It's a nice background." "Oh." and they speed off, laughing, I'm sure, about the strange ways of city-folk.

Anyway, Go look! I am so thrilled!

Even my ex-husband, Sir Grumpybutt, sent me such a nice message this morning, telling me that I had obviously found my creative niche and that he is proud of me.

Yay!!

Father of the Year. For life.

2010-10-06T10:38:00.001-07:00

My first marriage was to a man who, while he has many, many wonderful qualities, he did not have the ability to "not sweat the little things." He is as kind and gentle as can be, but he is a moody artist. I can't tell you how many family outings were completely ruined because, say, as we were pulling out of the driveway I realized I'd forgotten our (then) baby's diaper bag or my sunglasses. I would quickly run back in the house, retrieve the item and be back in the car within minutes. But this would be enough to cause him to quietly seethe for the rest of the day. As in, not speaking to me or our child during the entire outing, withholding his love and affection. Now, I'm smart enough to know that it wasn't really about me forgetting my sunglasses. But still. I spent years walking on egg shells, hoping that nothing Anna or I did was going to ruin our time with him. Living with this man was like living with Pig Pen, only instead of dirt swirling around him at all times, it was a black cloud of misery. I eventually divorced him for this very reason, hoping that once I (the cause of the black cloud, I thought) was gone, he would be happy. That hasn't happened, of course.

I share this all now because of what happened on Anna's birthday. I knew that David (my current and final husband) had had a rough day at work. I had picked up Anna and a friend and taken them horseback-riding, and on the way home I called David and asked him to pick up a pizza for dinner. He, of course, cheerfully agreed to do so. When he arrived home with the pizza, he went straight for Anna, gave her a big kiss and said "Happy birthday Sunshine!!" Then we all had pizza, opened presents, had cake and played for several hours. He sat by Anna on the couch and she lazed around, feet on his lap, and he patiently put together a complicated and frustrating toy she'd received. He was his usual even-tempered, affectionate, mellow and loving self. Anna had a delightful birthday, full of laughter and playfulness and love.

And then last night, almost as a second thought, David said "I didn't tell you what happened when I came home last night" (the night of Anna's birthday.) He then explained how on his way home from work he had stopped at the bike shop to pick up his bike. As he pulled into the garage, he heard the tell-tale, sickening "CRUUUUNCH": the sound of his very nice, very expensive bike colliding with the top of the garage door.

He got out of the car to see that the wheel of his newly-repaired bike was completely crumpled. The bike rack was damaged, probably beyond repair. And the rack on top of his car was cracked.

And then this darling man came in the house, never uttered A WORD about it, and joyfully celebrated his step-daughter's tenth birthday. When I expressed shock at this after he told me what happened, he said "Well, I wasn't going to ruin her birthday! It's just a bike."

HUH??

The thing I love so, so much about this man is that he conciously chooses, every day, to be the kind of father he didn't get to have, because he knows how it feels to be a kid walking on eggshells.

In other words, this man I am married to? Is a grown-up. How lucky am I?

::horse crazy::

2010-10-01T09:37:00.000-07:00

If you know my kid or have read this blog for long, you know that she is absolutely, 100% HORSE CRAZY. I swear she came out of the womb this way; one of her very first words was "hee hee" (horse) and it's been all horse, all the time ever since. When she was about 2 she started going to a day-care where there were horses in a field next door. Every day we would stop to visit them and give them carrots. Soon we discovered that the man who owned the horses happened to be the father-in-law of Eric's employer. He gave us permission to take Anna in to the field and put her on the back of the one she called "Vanilla", who was ancient and gentle. She had a couple of horse videos that she would watch over and over....and over. She would tie bits of string and yarn and cords around our long-suffering dog to make her into a horse to lead around. She has never, ever been interested in dolls or fairies or princesses; ALL her imaginary play revolves around horses. She has a bedroom full of toy horses and all she is interested in reading is about horses. She has taken riding lessons since she was 5 or 6 and this summer I was able to lease a horse for her to ride as often as we can get out there. My daughter is turning 10 years old on Monday and she STILL, every single night, puts on her "bridle" (yarn and a necklace) and "gallops" around and around the dining room table on all fours, pretending to be one of the great race-horses she has read about. Every pair of her pants has holes in the knees. Every single day she gets on the internet and finds horses for sale to show me when I get home.

As she inches toward her teenage years, I think about what will keep her mind and spirit occupied so that she doesn't get involved with boys too soon, or drugs god forbid. She is not interested in soccer or softball or jump roping or dance or any of the other extra-curricular activities her friends participate in. Horses are her life. And I just don't ever see that changing.

And so I have made it my life's mission to get this kid a horse within the next few years. With the economy the way it is, there are thousands of horses available for sale right now, at "bargain basement" prices. There are so many beautiful horses in need of a good home, and I just happen to know a kiddo who has a whole lotta love to give. My ex-husband, not surprisingly, can come up with a dozen reasons why we can't get her a horse (he's a half-empty kind of guy). I say that if we put our minds to it, we CAN. Yes, we'll have to find a place to board a horse, and yes that can be expensive. But we happen to live in "horse country"; surrounded by hundreds of miles of fields in every direction. I drive by at least 4 horse ranches on my way to work every day. I believe if we put this "out there" in to the universe, it will happen. One day we'll connect with someone who knows someone who is willing to board for a reasonable price because they know how it feels to be a ten year old girl who can think of nothing but having her own horse. Or perhaps we could barter something in exchange for board; I can paint a barn or muck stalls or fill in on feedings when the owners are out of town.

I want this for her because I know it will have a profound effect on her life. Also, because I was lucky enough to grow up riding horses, I know how free you feel when riding, and the truth is, I love horses almost as much as she does.

Look at this amazing beauty I found on Craigs list today:

Twelve year old half Arabian, half Tennessee Walker. He's participated in 4-H (something I Anna wants desperately to get involved in), lessons, parades, been ridden in rodeos by a rodeo queen, trail riding etc . Anna just happens to want an Arabian "more than anything in the whole world!!"

Sigh. I know the time isn't right, but one day it will be. And I can't wait to see the look on her face.

Am I crazy?

::perfect fall day::

2010-09-27T11:07:00.000-07:00

Anna was supposed to ride in her first-ever Pattern Racing event on Saturday, but as we were packing our lunches for a loooong day at the arena, we found out that it had been canceled. She took it amazingly well, despite having been giddy with excitement and anticipation for weeks ahead of time. We decided to go out for a trail-ride anyway, and it was a beautiful morning. Once home, I'd planned on sewing but she suggested a bike ride instead. It was far too beautiful a day to be inside sewing. We rode our bikes down to Manito Park, which is truly one of the loveliest parks I've ever been to. In fact, it was designed by the same design firm that did Central Park. And it's 8 blocks from our house. Anna took me straight to the special "friendship tree", so named by her and her friend Saskia. It is the ideal secret tree, with branches that come down to the ground, creating the perfect hiding spot for two girls to hang from its branches and spy on people.

Then we rode into Duncan Gardens, which is absolutely stunning this time of year. There were many photo-shoots going on, Senior portraits and brides in their gowns.

On a mission to rescue lady-bugs from the fountain:

I love the tulip metal-work on the rail along the marble steps leading down into the gardens.

I can't stop looking at this one:

Of course I didn't have the "real" camera; all these photos were taken with my iPhone, using the Hipstamatic app, which is, quite possibly, the coolest thing ever. It would take me hours upon hours of frustration and swearing in some editing software to get anywhere close to this. But with Hipstamatic you just chose which "film" and frame you want, and viola! Artsy genius.

::sister wives::

2010-09-23T09:42:00.000-07:00

If you know me at all, you know that I have a wee bit of an obsession with plural marriage. I have read pretty much every book on the FLDS (Fundamentalist Latter Day Saints) that I can get my hands on: Under the Banner of Heaven, Shattered Dreams, His Favorite Wife, Daughter of the Saints, The Lonely Polygamist (which is fiction, but it's by one of my very favorite authors). And you can count on me reading pretty much every other book on the topic that comes out. I just find it fascinating.

While I believe the religious beliefs behind plural marriage to be completely NUTS, I say if they are consenting adults and if it works for them, have at it. I mean, who wouldn't want an extra wife or two around the house to help with the childcare, the cooking, and the cleaning? In fact my friend Sarah and I call each other "sister wife" because she thinks my husband is just the cat's pajamas and she says she has a strong back (which is great because SHE gets to be the one to play horsie with Anna for the next 9 years) and she loves to garden. She might even be willing to can some peaches and bake the occasional pie. It should be noted that Sarah is a lesbian, so I wouldn't have to worry about the actual "sharing" of my husband. I know!! It sounds perfect, doesn't it?? Unfortunately Davie won't cooperate. He says he can't even keep one one wife happy, why the HELL would he want two??

Anyway, there is a new show coming out this fall called "Sister Wife." I generally loathe reality shows and have managed to never get sucked in to one, but nothing and I mean nothing is going to keep me from being plastered in front of this show every damn week.

The fact that the, uh, "man" of the house has shaggy highlighted blond hair, drives a two-seater sports car and is obviously nursing some sort of "rock-god-wanna-be" fantasy? Just makes it that much more attractive.

In fact I think I'll invite Sarah over to watch it. We'll eat popcorn (what is it with Mormons and popcorn?) and drink Coke. Or is it Pepsi that the LDS church bought and is now considered allowable when all other forms of caffeine are not?

I can't wait.

What do you think of plural marriage?

First day, 4th grade

2010-09-02T10:31:00.000-07:00

Look at my beautiful girl. Please note the fact that her hair is clean and brushed (she even let me straighten it a little, to smooth it out) and SHE IS NOT WEARING BLACK.

Third grade will go down in history as the year my child wore the exact same outfit, every day: skinny black jeans, black hoody sweatshirt and black converse sneakers. She still wears black skinny jeans almost exclusively, so when I came home yesterday and saw her riding her bike in the driveway wearing these PURPLE jeans, I literally almost drove into the fence. Her friend Saskia had brought over some pants that don't fit her anymore; when I saw these I thought "Yeah, right." In fact I had basically put them in our "take to the thrift-store" pile. But behold:

She was so excited this morning after she got dressed that she just had to go show Davie, and she couldn't stop hopping, grinning from ear to ear. Is there anything better than finally getting to put on your new school clothes?? I'm a stickler, like my mom was, for not allowing her to wear school clothes until school starts for precisely this reason.

Someone, though, is not happy about the idea of her person going off to school for the day. Perhaps if she parks herself by the backpack and lunch box by the door, she'll get to go.

Happy long-weekend!

My mom feels the same way*

2010-09-01T16:13:00.000-07:00

(have your volume up for full "peeling out on hardwood floor effect.")

Not my dog; found via Youtube. I am SO going to try this on my dogs when I get home, though.

*Actually, my mom doesn't even like the word "fart". Growing up, that was the "f" word in our house and if she heard you say it, you were guaranteed being swatted with whatever she had in her hand at the time.

Happy long weekend! We're going to Seattle to eat, drink and be merry!

::fat pants::

2010-08-27T12:19:00.000-07:00

Today is one of those delightfully cool-ish days when it juuuust starts to feel like Fall. Which made me oddly excited to put on some pants for the first time in many months. See, all summer long, every single day, I wear skirts or dresses. Loose, comfy and cool. And so I went to the dresser and pulled out my favorite skinny-legged orange cords, which I planned to wear with some cute sandals and flowy top.

But.

I could not zip up said orange cords. Not. Even. Close. So I put them back and pulled out some lightweight chinos. Couldn't zip them either. So then I pulled out my "baggy" Levis. Yeah, guess what? I couldn't get those suckers buttoned if my life depended on it. See, at this time last year (when I bought all the above mentioned pants) I was training for a marathon, running 25-35 miles a week. Even then I didn't weigh that much less than I do right now, but apparently I was considerably leaner. And having NOT run since, oh, February or so, the muscle has been replaced by flab. Specifically flab around the middle. I've really noticed it lately, catching a glimpse of my reflection when I am not holding my stomach in. I might look a little bit pregnant.

I will admit that I secretly hoped that I might have one of those perfectly harmless but gigantic cysts on my uterus that you read about while standing in line at the grocery store: "Woman who thought she was 6 months pregnant actually had a cyst the size of a Rhode Island!!" And then the doctor would cut it out, hand it to me, and I'd get my picture in the paper, smiling and holding a Butterball turkey-sized cyst while wearing my cute size 8 orange cords.

But, well, I went to the doctor this morning to follow up on my pneumonia and go over my blood work and he failed to mention any unusual 40 pound growth. Which means that I really am just fat.

Which leaves me with a decision to make before it really is pants-wearing-season. As I see it, my options are:

1) Purchase an entire new wardrobe of big-girl pants. Spandex must be really, really comfy; that's why you see so many really big women wearing it while shopping at Walmart, buying their cookies and Diet Pepsi in bulk.

2) Sew elastic panels into all the pants I have, like maternity pants. What?? I have some really cute pants, damnit, and I want to wear them.

3) Move to Southern California or Arizona so that I can wear dresses and skirts year around. Ppphhfffttt. Who needs pants? Of course, I will have to convince my husband, my daughter and my ex-husband to move with me.

Oh! I just thought of one more option:
4) I could join one of those religions where the women aren't allowed to wear pants. So they wear, you know, calico dresses all winter, with their snow boots on underneath. Do Mennonites have to believe in God? I might be screwed.

Seriously....what am I going to do???

PS. If you suggest anything with the word "diet" in it, I will hunt you down and EAT you.

summer time

2010-08-12T09:12:00.000-07:00

World's worst blogger.

I suck. Luckily no one reads this blog but my mother and sisters, unless I've lost them too. But hey, here are some pretty pictures I just downloaded!

One thing you may not know about me (or you do, if you know me at all) is that keeping plants alive? Not my specialty. The joke in our house is that the only reason my child is alive is because she can tell me when she's hungry. How she survived the early years before language, I do not know.

Anyway, last year I started a rock garden in the back yard, because rock garden plants are very low maintenance, which is definitely the main criteria if you want to survive under my care. My thing with plants (and children) is that I forget to water them for months at a time, and then I drown them with several gallons of water at once, figuring I'm making up for my incompetence. My friend Christina literally weeps for the plants in my care: "They're talking to you! They are begging for water! Can't you hear them??"

Luckily, I love succulents. And the beauty of succulents is that they hardly ever need water! Woohoo!!

Last night while lovingly WATERING my rock garden and gloating over my success, I noticed this plant that I don't recall putting in the ground. Is it a weed? Meh. It's green and it's alive. Good enough for me.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA
This was just some little succulent, minding its own business, and then one day it sprouted this weird, leggy growth, about a foot tall, with these sweet teeny flowers on the ends. I like it.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Hen and chicks: gotta love 'em. Totally my kind of plants: you plant one, water it once every six months or so, and it is so grateful that it rewards you by propagating all over the place. If only children were this easy. Oh. Wait...

AAAAAAAAAAAAA

My favorites: Moss Roses. They add so much lovely color.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Snap dragons remind me of when I was little. In fact, sometimes when no one is looking, I can't resist the urge to snap one off and make it talk: "Aaarrggh!! Ahoy matey! That sun sure feels great today, doesn't it?!" Why do snap dragons talk like pirates? Or is that just me? Has anyone else noticed that the neighbors won't make eye-contact anymore?

***********

Last Friday was meeting some friends/co-workers for lunch in the little town of Tekoa. To get there, I drove through the Palouse on roads I'd never driven. I really, really love the Palouse. The scenery is just gorgeous and the little farming communities are so charming. People sitting on their porches, old guys driving their tractors down the road, kids riding horses in the fields....There's something really appealing about that simple way of life, isn't there?

I was afraid of being late for our lunch date, so I didn't take as many pictures as I wanted. But I couldn't resist capturing this beautiful little scene, near the tiny town of Waverly.

***********

I've also been doing some sewing. This is a custom-order Hooter Hider (also known as a nursing cover), made for someone who knows she is having a boy.

And i couldn't resist whipping up a matching onsie.

And last but certainly not least: Beatrice, aka: Bea, BB and, most often, Beast. She loves nothing more than laying on the back deck, watching the world go by.

She's got a terribly rough life. I think she's plotting her escape.

Hope you're enjoying your summer. I can not believe how quickly it's gone by; school starts three weeks from today. Which reminds me, does anyone know how often I have to water a 4th grader?

::do NOT let my daughter see this::

2010-07-27T10:43:00.000-07:00

Borrowed from Cute Overload.

Jod, you MUST get a miniature pig for the new Elmer and Ellie Mae ranch!!!

sister hood of motherhood

2010-07-14T18:36:00.000-07:00

Uuggh. I just got back from the grocery store where I witnessed a 3-4 year old girl having one of those EPIC melt-downs that only a child of that age can have. She was crying, screaming, face bright red, banging her little fists on the ice-cream freezer door; she'd spied those adorable little Ben & Jerry's single-serving containers and she was NOT LEAVING until she got one.

The poor woman apologized to ME, because her daughter was blocking my Ben & Jerry's. I looked at her with complete sympathy and said "No need to apologize; I've been there myself. I am so sorry you're going through this right now. It will get better." I thought she was going to burst into tears right then. I left the ice-cream isle and as I gathered the last couple of items, paid for them, and walked out of the store, I could STILL hear the little girl screaming and saw the mother trying to physically force her into the cart and out of the ice-cream isle. I could tell by the mother's face that she was at her absolute breaking point.

We've all been there, when the urge to say and do things you'll regret later is so huge, so overpowering, that the ONLY thing stopping you is that you are in public and you don't want others to witness the child-abuse you are momentarily flirting with. I remember the first time I actually thought "Now I can kind of understand how it happens, how a parent who is overly exhausted with not enough support could just snap" and lash out at a child who has pushed you way, way beyond your limit.

At that point what you need is someone to step in: a spouse, your mother, a friend or neighbor...someone, anyone who can put some physical and emotional space between you and your child so that you can take a few deep breaths. So that you can find your center, so that you can think and gather your wits about you and walk back into the line of fire with a calm mind and a plan. You need someone who understands to step in and help you, just for a minute or two.

I saw all of that on that mother's face and I wished there was something I could do. I thought about trying to distract the child, I thought about asking the mother for her list and her cart so that I could finish the shopping that needed to be done. But being a complete stranger I couldn't really do either of those things. I walked out to my car feeling sick with helplessness.

Should I have done something? Was I minding my own business or did I take the easy way out, heading home with my own Ben & Jerry's? What would you have done, if anything?

I've met my match

2010-07-07T14:28:00.000-07:00

(actual instant-message conversation I just had with my much, much older husband) (ok, it's only 4 and a half years, but I love to give him sh*t about it.)

david: Holy crap it's hot here.

kate: Is it? What's the temp?

david: Feels pretty good. 87 degrees.

kate: Don't you have AC in your new office? Old people are supposed to be extra careful in the heat, you know.

Aren't you happy that I'm not sick anymore and back to my old self??

(no response)

kate: ….hello?

…Bueller?

david: I'd bite you if I had any teeth left. Who's Bueller?

kate: Oh dear. Of course.
You never saw “Ferris Beuller's Day Off”, did you?
You were probably busy translating some obscure Russian opera. Or on top of a mountain in Chile eating the most amazing posole made by a 104 year old native woman.

Oh man, I am ON today, baby!!!

DON'T EVEN TELL ME YOU NEVER SAW FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT HIGH or I'm going to have to leave you for a younger (less intelligent) man.

kate: You're speechless, aren't you. I know...I don't blame you... it's hard to keep up with me.

david: I figured it was a reference to that stupid matthew borderick movie. And of course I saw fast times. I love Phoebe Cates.

kate: Hhmmpphh.

david: Please get sick again ;-)

::Anna-isms::

2010-07-06T08:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday afternoon Anna was watching one of her favorite shows, Pit Boss. It's a "reality show" of sorts on Animal Planet, about a group of little people in LA who rescue pit bulls. There is the main guy, "Shorty", a couple of male helpers and a female secretary, none of them over 3 and a half feet tall. So yesterday Anna calls me in to the TV room: "Mom! Mom! I just found out that that girl on this show is a lesbian"....then:

"What's not to love about a tiny lesbian?!?"

Oh god, I love that kid.

That reminds me of once when she was probably 3 or 4, you know the age where they will blurt out anything no matter how inappropriate? We were in the grocery store when we practically ran right into a little person pushing a shopping cart with 2 of his own children inside. I watched, paralyzed with dread, as Anna sized him up (har har); she had never seen a little person before in her life. I couldn't run the risk of telling her not to say anything, because then of course she'd loudly ask why. I held my breath as she silently watched him pass us, terrified she'd blurt out something mortifying.

Then, to my complete delight, she said "Well that's a cute little daddy!!"

She has such a beautiful, open and loving heart. If I do nothing else of consequence in this world, I will always be proud of the daughter I have the great fortune to raise.

::camouflage::

2010-06-29T16:25:00.000-07:00

I have been a wee bit obsessed watching this killdeer nest, which is located about ten feet from the front door of our office. Today all three eggs hatched!

Can you believe how well they blend in?? I wonder if tomorrow they will already be up and running.

**Edited to add: when I left work, one of the babies (I assume the "big" one on the right in the photo) was indeed up and running, right across the road!

Which reminds me that when I was in Boise for the Hillbilly party a month ago, my sister Linda and I saw two of these teeny little fluff-balls running in the road. There was traffic going by in both directions and by some miracle, they didn't get hit. But they were too small to get up on the curb! We stopped the car and we each chased one around until we could give them a hand up onto the sidewalk and to the safety of the tall grass. They are so small (and not real bright); it's a miracle that the killdeer population continues to grow! Will try to get a picture of the baby tomorrow; he wouldn't let me close enough tonight...

::camping::

2010-06-25T10:03:00.000-07:00

When my ex and I first got together, we went on an epic road-trip from our college in northern Idaho, down through Montana, Idaho, Utah, Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, California and ended in Oregon. It involved more powdered black-bean paste than I care to remember and pretty much camping for the entire three months. It was an incredible adventure that I will never forget; we saw amazing places, met interesting people, and learned a lot about each other and ourselves. We learned, for example, that camping was Eric's idea of "vacation". We learned that my idea of vacation is NOT camping.

There is nothing easy about camping. First you have to go through the garage and various storage closets to gather all your equipment and supplies, taking inventory of what you have and what you need ("I found the flashlight but the batteries are dead. We have spoons but no forks. Where are the damn forks?? I know we bought bug-spray last summer. Have you seen the tent stakes??") sorting and arranging it all, stuffing it all in the car and then you drive to your destination. You find a camp-sight that is somewhat close (but not too close!!) to the foul-smelling toilets and far enough away from the neighboring camp-site that you won't be kept awake by the house-sized RV's generator. Find a spot for the tent that is flat and not too rocky, dig out aaaall the supplies, set up your tent and sleeping bags, light the citronella candle in a lame attempt to keep the bugs at bay. Cook dinner in several stages over an open flame, scrub pots and pans with sand to remove gunk. Next you must put everything back in the car so as not to attract wildlife. Then and only then do you get to collapse into your sleeping bag, feeling every stick and rock under your back and wishing like hell that you'd remembered your pillow. Sleep, thrash, repeat. Then you pack it all up, stuff it in the car, drive home and then spend another hour or two putting it AAAALLL away! Wheeee!!! I always come home from camping exhausted and in need of a vacation.

The truth is, camping is only relaxing for a few hours between your arrival and departure. I'd much rather spend my time actually hiking, biking, swimming, kayaking, reading....or oh! I know: relaxing.

Ok, ok, there are SOME things I still enjoy about camping (or would, if I actually went, you know, camping). Falling asleep to the sounds of night-hawks and crickets. Waking to the sounds of the birds as the sun comes up. Taking a nap in the shade after a day playing in the lake or hiking. And....um...yeah, that's about it.

I have to admit that at this point in my life, my idea of "camping" involves a log cabin within walking distance to a lodge that serves bacon, fresh-squeezed orange juice and huckleberry crepes.

My husband David and my daughter, however, still like the idea of actual CAMPING. In fact, there is talk of a possible camping trip this summer in Glacier National Park. You may have heard of Glacier while reading the latest report of grizzly mauling.

Grizzlies consider a tent to be the dry, uninteresting tortilla that must be endured to get to the soft, pink meat-flavored filling.

In fact just a couple of days ago, some poor sap camping somewhere in Montana awoke to the unmistakable sensation that the side of his head was being eaten. Because IT WAS. An otherwise "harmless" black bear bit through his tent and made a snack of the guy's ear. Fun!

Call me crazy, but I just can't sleep when I'm afraid for my life.

And so, it seems to me that this is the perfect "camping compromise:

See, one of these little beauties would provide bear-proof shelter, a somewhat comfortable mattress and a place to keep your stuff. That's all you need. These babies are so light that they can be pulled behind a Volkswagen!

And think of how spontaneous you could be, which is the other thing that drives me crazy about camping: it is IMPOSSIBLE to say on a Friday afternoon "Hey, let's go up to Priest Lake for the weekend!" Even car-camping involves the above-mentioned excavation of the dark corners of the garage to find all the bits and pieces and supplies and equipment. This process literally takes hours. You can not spontaneously tent camp. Period.

With one of these little trailers, however, it's all in there: the plates, forks, coffee-maker, matches, flashlights, sleeping bags, bug repellent, stove! You simply grab your clothes, hook your little trailer to the car and you GO!! To Priest Lake! To the Oregon coast! To Canada! To Glacier!!

The fact that this is one orange has nothing to do with it. Swoon.

Of course, if we ever win the lottery, one of the first things I'd buy would be a sweet vintage Airstream.

Maybe a little something like this. A 1948 Airstream "Wee Wind". Have you ever seen anything so adorable?? It's even for sale, but they don't say how much which means "If you have to ask, you can't afford it."

A girl can dream, right?

my body is betraying me

2010-06-17T13:41:00.000-07:00

I haven't had much to say around here lately because I have pneumonia that won't go away and basically it's all I can do to haul my carcass to work every day. But I just thought that I would share two things that are occupying my mind right now because, you know, I have no pride and it's my job to help you feel better about yourself.

*I guess this has to do with my hormones going all wonky on me due to peri-menopause, but I have the most foul body-odor lately. And the really freaky thing? It's only one arm-pit. Righty is perfectly normal and lovely, but Lefty smells like a small rodent moved in and died. WTF body??

*Also? The really cool thing about being a middle-aged woman and having pneumonia? Every time I cough I pee a little. I know, fun right??

So, carry on with your day knowing that you are infinitely more normal and well-adjusted than I am.

You're welcome.

::love::

2010-06-06T19:50:00.000-07:00

mind blowing

2010-06-03T08:58:00.000-07:00

I just saw this (via a local blog, Dwell Well) and I am speechless. Go HERE to get a visual of how big the oil "spill" in the Gulf really is.

The other day I was listening to one of my favorite pod-casts, The Story, and heard Riki Ott interviewed. She has a PhD in marine toxicology and she just happened to be a commercial fisherman in Prince William Sound 21 years ago when the Exxon Valdeze spilled its (relatively small comparitively) contents into the pristine waters of Alaska. She has spent the years since then involved first-hand with the cleanup and aftermath and says that 21 years later, you can stick your hand a couple inches down in the soil and come up with oil. Oil doesn't evaporate and it isn't going anywhere.

I can't even begin to imagine how this monstrous amount of oil is going to effect the fish, the birds, the marine mammals and the people who's livelihood depends on the Gulf.

It's not a partisan problem; you can't blame current or past presidents for this. But the fact that the oil companies were allowed to drill into the bottom of the ocean, reap billions of dollars worth of benefits without having a rock-solid disaster plan? That is just unforgiveable, and we must end the free-reign that the corporations have on our natural resources. If anything good comes of this disaster, let it be that we finally begin to stand up to the corportations and demand accountability.

coming home

2010-05-31T16:39:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite blogs, for the vicarious pleasure of ranch/farm life, is Pioneer Woman. She takes the most incredible photos of life on their Oklahoma ranch, of her children, their horses and cows and dogs and the people who work the ranch. She also has a special section of her blog that is all about photography, and she often has contests for people to enter their own photos on a topic that Ree selects. Currently, the topic is "Coming Home", and as you can imagine, there are literally thousands of photos of soldiers coming home to their loved ones.

I was just scrolling through them all and it's enough to make even an old, black-hearted liberal like me shed a tear or two, especially this Memorial Day. Head on over and check them out. Just be sure to have the kleenex handy. The ones on Ree's blog are simply her own favorites; there are thousands more over on the Pioneer Woman Photography Assignment Flickr page(click for link).

::random news::

2010-05-27T09:19:00.000-07:00

I sold TWO bags out of my etsy shop over the weekend (woohoo!!!) so now I need to get seriously busy sewing! As is totally typical of me, I started my etsy shop, was ALL excited and going to take over the world....and then I fizzled.

BUT now I have my mojo back, have some great new ideas and am going to spend all weekend sewing! Luckily, it's supposed to rain so my husband can't make me work in the yard. He's mean that way.

I did make some very cute (but top secret for now) baby gifts last weekend. They will be wrapped and on their way to Boise. I love that my nieces are having babies; there is just nothing more fun (for me) than making baby gifts. Small, fast and oh-so-satisfying.

**************

We continue to go out riding horses a couple of times a week. Anna is so unbelievably natural and comfortable on that horse; it's as if she was born riding. Which, I guess, in a way she was. Only now, thank god, I'm not the one with the aching knees and back! I do not love driving an hour home from work, quickly changing into riding clothes and then driving another half an hour in the opposite direction to the horses, but as soon as we get there I bury my nose in the horse's neck, take a big sniff and aaaahhhh...it's worth it. Yeah, I'm weird, but seriously? That is one of my favorite smells. Horse. Yum.

**************

Anna and I have been seriously enjoying the Peregrine Falcon cam; all 4 eggs have hatched this week. We love watching the fluffy little chicks struggle with their apparently very heavy heads as mom or dad feeds them.

*************

And that's all I've got for now. Will take pictures of what I manage to get sewn this weekend. Looking forward to my first quilting class in a couple of weeks!

Happy weekend!

whaaaat??

2010-05-11T10:59:00.000-07:00

From Cute Overload. The fact that they called this goat "Jerry Lewis" makes me love it even more.

::Breezy::

2010-05-07T09:23:00.000-07:00

If you need to know just one thing about my daughter, it is this: she loves horses. No, I mean really, really loves them and from the time she could talk, it's been aaaaalll about horses. Before she could even say "horse", it was "hee hee". And every time she saw one, whether on TV or in a pasture, she went crazy. She first got to "ride" when she was about 2 and a half, and there has been no turning back. She can tell you the precise different between the "heavy horses" and has spent probably a good half of her lifetime pouring over her roughly 6 gazillion horse encyclopedias. The kid has horse-juice in her veins.

As she got into elementary school and it became clear that she had no interest whatsoever in dance or soccer or softball or skiing, I decided to get her into riding lessons. I figured it would teach her agility, physical strength, teamwork (horses can be even more uncooperative than a soccer teammate, it turns out) and also give her confidence. We have changed instructors and ranches a couple of times and after about 4 years of trotting, loping and cantering around an arena, it was time for a change. Not that she's done learning, by any means, but she's certainly got the basics down and until she decides to take her riding a different direction (such as English jumping or, say, barrel racing) it seems like it's time for her to just spend time, you know, riding.

We live in town with no place to keep a horse, nor do we have the means or interest to own and maintain a horse right now. So I started looking into leasing a horse. It seems like, especially given the economy, there might be people out there who would welcome a few extra bucks a month toward the care and upkeep of a horse in exchange for Anna getting to ride. After doing lots of research and reading up on the legalities, I placed an ad on Craigslist. I got a surprising number of responses, including several who wanted $100 or more a month PLUS half the boarding and feeding PLUS half the veterinary bills. Um, in that case, I want to own half the damn horse. Preferably the front half, thank you.

Anyway, in the end, I found a great little gal who is in the National Guard, has two horses on property about 25 minutes from us;she really just wants someone to ride and exercise them more than she is able to. For $50 a month (LESS than I was paying for Anna to spend two hours a month on horseback for lessons), we get three days a week (including one weekend day) on "Anna's" horse. Plus, anytime I (or a friend of Anna's) want to ride the other one, well, that's an added bonus. Basically two for the price of one. No extra food or vet bills. I can not believe what a good deal this is.

Meet BREEZY:

Breezy is an 18 year old "Back-striped Buckskin". She is a GREAT horse, very responsive, has never thrown a rider and she looooves to run. Anna is in HEAVEN.

They live on 5 acres of beautiful Ponderosa pine forest, and a block away is over 80 acres of trails. It's close enough that we went out last night for an evening ride. It is so pretty out there, morning doves cooing and nuthatches calling.

And the girl next door is also 9 years old and also horse crazy. She like to ride Jet, Breezy's friend. The girls hit it off immediately. Anna is so excited to have a friend she can talk horses with.

This was shortly before Jessica and her horse parted ways and Jessica had to be taken to the hospital for a possible broken thumb and cuts to her face. Bummer. She's only been riding for about a month, though, and she was galloping when she shouldn't have been. Lesson learned.

They even have a big goofy Great Dane named "ORANGE". Oh my god I love her. She is a nut and loves to do that "Hey! You! Person! Come chase me!!!" thing.

She is barely smaller than the horses. I might accidentally steal Orange, just as soon as I can squeeze her into my car.

Did we luck out or what??

::blooming::

2010-04-30T08:51:00.000-07:00

When we bought our house, not only was it in dire need of work, but so was the yard. At the end of last summer, I worked my butt of planting and landscaping. David sat around and ate bon bons and gave me directions. ha! I kid, I kid. David did ALL the work. We were a little worried that some of the plants might not survive the winter; luckily it looks like every single one HAS survived, and are now happily budding and blooming.

WOW do I love our new camera!!

I'm off later today for our annual Moms Gone Wild weekend in Leavenworth. It's happening WAY too early this year; we can't even wear skirts and flip-flops, dang it. And there won't be any outdoor music festivals to get wild at like last year. I don't even know if it's possible to have fun when it's cold and raining, but we'll do our best. Now that I think about it, this is probably a good thing...

Happy weekend ya'll!

::Moab::

2010-04-28T12:32:00.000-07:00

We went to Moab. The weather was lovely. We like each other even MORE after vacationing/travelling together. Here are pictures.

how to tell that my daughter is tired

2010-04-15T10:46:00.000-07:00

Anna has always been very cautious. This means that when she was a toddler, I was the mom standing at the bottom of the gigantic slide yelling "Come on! Don't be scared! It'll be FUN!!" I've spent her entire childhood encouraging her to ride faster, to climb higher, to jump off things....you know, LIVE A LITTLE FOR GODS SAKE. I know I'll appreciate her cautious nature when she's a teenager and some boys invite her to get into their car to go for a ride. But man, sometimes I wonder if this kid has any of my DNA.

So last night we were snuggling in bed, watching one of those MOST EXTREME AND INSANELY DANGEROUS OH MY GOD SOMEBODY IS GOING TO DIIIIEEEEE shows on Animal Planet when they did a segment about a 14 year old cowgirl's first attempt at riding a bucking steer in a rodeo. As soon as they come out of the shoot, the girl goes flying. In slow motion she arcs through the air, perfectly t-boning the ground, neck bending at an unnatural angle as her head drills into the soft dirt. Oh, and then the steer stomps on her head and neck for good measure.

Thinking I am being wildly ironic and hilarious, I turn to Anna and say "Just in case you ever decide you want to try riding a bucking bull in a rodeo, the answer is NO." har har.

"BUT I WANT TOOOOOOOOO!!!" She wails.

"...." blink blink. "Ok. You know what? You go right ahead and ride that bull, honey."

goat camp!

2010-04-12T11:31:00.000-07:00

Goat Camp was this past Saturday and it was everything we'd hoped for an more. What? You don't know what Goat Camp is? Well, there is this wonderful place near here called P.E.A.C.H. Community Farm. They have all kinds of workshops and classes on everything from organic gardening to animal husbandry to cheese-making workshops. One of the day-camps they offer is called Goat Camp, and as you can imagine it's all about goats!! My friend Nichole was so excited when I told her about it, that she and her daughter Syringa drove from Seattle just so that Syringa could go to Goat Camp with Anna. They LOVED it! They learned all about the farm, played games, learned how to milk goats (they practiced first on clay-filled rubber gloves!), had a picnik under the trees, played games, learned how to make goat-cheese and made books about their day.

The people who live on and run the farm are lovely and warm, and every Sunday they host a potluck, open to everyone, at a long table over-looking the farm. We will definitely be spending more time at this lovely place.

Here are a couple of the "kids". FYI: Young goats do not cooperate when you try to stuff them in your bag. They have sharp little hooves and pointy nubbins.

I want that little black and white one there on the left. And look at the brown one, trying to head-butt his brother. God I love goats.

This bad-boy is Magic. He's the billy-goat daddy to all those kids up there. He has an attitude.

Anna and Syringa, in the milking barn.

Anna with Milton. They fell madly in love with eachother, and whenever Anna walked away from him, he'd bleat "maaaa...maaaaa-aaaaaa...maaa!!!" which of course means, "Hey! Come back here. I can't live without you!"

We got a new camera (woohoo!!!) and look what lovely pictures it takes! This is Milton again. I liked him too.

Despite spending over 6 hours at the farm, we had to practically force the girls into the car to leave. Anna could not stop talking: "THERE WAS MAGIC AND MIRACLE AND I THINK MIRACLE WAS THE MOM, BUT I KNOW THAT MAGIC WAS THE DAD AND HE WAS KIND OF MEAN AND THEN THERE WAS MILO HE WAS THE BLACK AND WHITE ONE, NOT THE ONE YOU LOVED MOM BUT THE OTHER BLACK AND WHITE ONE, AND WE PLAYED THIS GAME CALLED 'BEAR AND BEE AND HONEY' AND AFTER LUNCH WE LAID UNDER THIS TREE AND I WAS PETTING BUDDY THE DOG AND HE ACCIDENTALLY BIT ME AND THEN WE WENT BACK TO THE BARN AND OF COURSE I PETTED MILTON SOME MORE AND THEN THERE WAS THIS OTHER GOAT NAMED MIA AT LEAST I THINK HER NAME WAS MIA, THAT'S WHAT I CALLED HER SINCE ALL THEIR NAMES STARTED WITH M.....CAN WE GET MILKSHAKES??" Nichole and I cracked up; she hadn't stopped for a breath since we got in the car. I think they liked it.

Nothing says Happy Friday like a dog on a trampoline

2010-04-09T16:22:00.001-07:00

I saw you:

2010-04-01T08:29:00.000-07:00

Rocket Market, early Thursday morning.

Me: sexy Italian, brown and white leather Mary Jane.

You: Large. Green. Loogie.

On my way to work, I ran in quickly to grab the new Inlander. You, waiting patiently, in the semi-darkness. Unexpectedly, we connected. I can only guess at your provenance: Runner? Biker? Delivery man? I can't stop thinking about you.

You’ve left your mark on my sole.

warning: if you are easily offended or embarrassed, move along

2010-03-29T13:43:00.001-07:00

Mom, I'm warning you right now: skip this post and go play some video Sudoku or something. No. Really. Go.

Because I have NO personal boundaries and apparently my embarrassment meter is broken, I have a story for you.

The other day when I got home from work, Anna informed me that she had been rifling through every drawer in the house looking for extra money for her trip. (Yeah, we had a talk about THAT already.) She told me she'd found some interesting things...for example, did I know that David has a retainer?? She also came across her baby teeth in a jar ("Eeewww gross!") and she found in one of my drawers this "weird thing with a cord" and what was it??

... "Um, that's a back massager."

"Yay! Can we use it??" OH. DEAR. GOD. NO.

She loves getting and giving back massages. How was it possible that I had this...this "tool" and had failed to mention it to her?! We could have been enjoying it for years! (no comment).

"Well....um...I think it's broken. Yeah. It's broken. It doesn't work very well." and then "Look! Animal Cops Houston is on!! Yay! Here, I'll even sit down and watch it with you!"

Whew. Quick thinking. She was distracted for the rest of the night.

And then, the next night, while David was out of town, we were snuggling in bed, her reading to me, when she suddently remembered! She wanted to try that back-massager-thingie and she was not going to take no for an answer. I quickly realized that the more I refused and the more I tried to get her to forget about that damn back-massager already, the more allure it held for her.

Finally, I relented. Oh yes I did. Just a quick little back massage to prove to her that it really wasn't all that effective...stupid defective back-massager.

So yeah. Someday, when she's about 14 or so, the lightbulb is going to go on and she's going to realize: THAT WAS NO BACK MASSAGER!!!!

Oh man. Thank god we already have a therapist.

new creation

2010-03-22T10:03:00.000-07:00

Eric's mom (my ex-mother-in-law) is a quilter/seamstress, so whenever I see her or talk to her on the phone, she asks about what I'm working on. I shared with her the pictures of the bag I'd made for Julie and she LOVED it, especially that the fabric I used had the "nature" theme, with butterflies, birds, mushrooms etc. She asked me to make one for her, only in her colors; meaning purples, lavenders, fuchsias. Now, as you know I LOVE fabric; I spend a lot of time looking at fabric porn. I wracked my brain for anything I'd seen that might fit that criteria and was not feeling hopeful at all; nothing "nature themed" in those colors at Buttercuppity or anywhere online. And then the other day, in JoAnn's of all places, Anna and I found this most lovely fabric, all Nana's colors, covered in birds. Nana loves birds. I snatched it up and couldn't wait to get started. Here is the result:

Front:
(the pocket was very plain, so I appliqued a bird and tree on to it)

Back of the bag:

This is it "inside out"; as it is fully reversible:

And I made this little zipper pouch for an extra surprise:

I can't wait to give it to her; I think she's going to love it!

I'm making one just like it to list in my etsy shop (see left sidebar for a link directly there)

AAAAAAAAA

***

AAAAAA

Also, I have to share this. This winter has been especially bad for mice in the house; most winters it snows and freezes and that helps control the mouse population, but we haven't had that kind of winter. We see signs of them in the kitchen corners, but for some reason (happy pills? I do not know...) it hasn't bothered me as much this year. And so I've kind of adopted a "live and let live" policy. Except, I told David, if I see signs of them in our silverware drawer or on my dishes. Then I'm going to go all Rambo on their little asses. BUT that hasn't happened, and so I clean and disinfect like crazy and wait for them to notice that it's LOVELY outside and it's time to return to the great outdoors. Go! Be free!

AAAAA

And then our daughter decided that we just weren't doing enough to make them feel at home.

So she put a little box in the corner (for privacy??) and a container full of dog hair (ok, that's kind of embarrassing, but we hadn't vacuumed yet that day) and some bread. So that, you know, they have a place to rest after they gorge themselves on our pistachios. I told her this morning the only thing missing is a tiny little keg and a hot tub. I swear I could see the wheels starting to turn in that strange little brain of hers. Never a dull moment with this kid. Sigh.

::extremely random and not at all deep thoughts::

2010-03-19T09:54:00.000-07:00

*I got rolfed this week. This was not nearly as much fun as it may sound. Rolfing is basically a massage that kicks your ass and may leave bruises. Despite this, my back and neck are still killing me.

*My friend Nichole, who definitely qualifies as a compulsive shopper (but hey! I'm not judging, especially when it benefits ME) visited from Seattle last weekend and brought me a gigantic box of hand-me-downs and rejects. And I tell you, it's like I won the clothing lottery because she has fantastic (and expensive) taste. I have worn some article of hers every day this week.

*I am wearing extremely cute shoes today (with my new favorite wide-legged jeans). Behold:
I know! Not my usual style but I love them soooo much. It's good to step outside your comfort zone every now and then, no? The store was having a half-off sale, and these were the last pair of these and they happened to be my size. I mean, how could I NOT buy them, right? Woohoo! I can't wait to wear them with skirts this Spring.

*That bag? Is an exact replica of the one I made for my friend Julie awhile back. I liked hers so much I had to make one for myself, and I get so many compliments on it, everywhere I go. The other day in Nordstroms? No fewer than 4 people (including one adorable gay boy who I wanted to stuff into said bag and bring home with me) approached me to rave about my "beautiful bag". Also? At the store where I bought those cute shoes, the owner declared my bag a "work of art" (she also owns the art gallery next door) and asked if I'd be interested in selling some bags on consignment in her store! She wants 45% which is CA-RAY-ZEE, so I won't be taking her up on her offer. But it was flattering, nonetheless. I have wonderful new business cards on their way, so I will soon be handing cards out to everyone who dares approach me with compliments.

*We went to the school talent show last night and there was a girl who came out on the stage and seriously? I thought she was some one's mom or big sister. She was at least 5'9" tall, wearing a shirt that showed how very well developed she is, slacks and high-heels. She has the body of a 24 year old, I'm not even kidding. And she's in SIXTH GRADE, ya'll. Throughout her entire song I had two thoughts running through my head: "I guess she COULD be 19, if she's flunked 6th grade, what? 6 times." And also "I bet her dad sleeps with a shotgun under his pillow." OH please oh please oh please do not let my daughter suffer the body of a full-grown woman at the age of 12.

*In a few weeks, Anna and our young friend Syringa are going to GOAT CAMP! You may not know this about me, but I have a thing for goats. It was a sad, dark day when I found out that "goat herder" was not really a viable career option for me, because my parents did not have the foresight to give birth to me in the Swiss Alps. Damn the luck. So when I stumbled upon Goat Camp, well let's just say I did not bother consulting my daughter about her wish to attend before hitting that "register now" button. Luckily she likes goats too, and goat cheese, which they will be making. Nichole (Syringa's mom) and I may or may not KIDnap (har har) a baby goat. Or three. Note to self: look into the laws about having a goat in one's backyard within the city limits.

*Once again this morning I grabbed the business end of my curling iron, thereby rendering 3rd degree burns on at least two fingers. WHAT THE FUCK curling-iron manufacturers, why do you make the barrel and the handle the EXACT SAME SIZE AND COLOR??? I should sue them. If that dumb woman can sue McDonalds for spilling scalding-hot coffee on her lap, then this dumb woman should be able to sue Revlon for for the angry, oozing wounds I now sport on my left hand. Seriously, talk about DESIGN FLAW.

and lastly:
*Because Sandra Bullock was nominated (and then won) an Academy Award, she has given numerous interviews recently wherein she talks about the fact that she was able to give the performance of her life because she found the "one man in the world she could fully trust and rely on", a man who taught her that you can't judge a book by its (tattooed) cover, the man who got her to open her heart and love someone in a way she never thought possible. And now? It's come out that he cheated on her with a tattooed porn-star-wanna-be. It just makes me sick. And that's really going to help with my almost-nightly "David comes to his senses and divorces my ass, leaving my crying in the fetal position knowing that I've lost my one true love" nightmares. I hope his pit-bull mauls his stupid testicles off.

Jesse James' stupid testicles, NOT David's. We don't even own a pit-bull.

Well! On that note, I urge you to carry on with your day and have a great weekend!

Moab, here we come!!

2010-03-02T11:39:00.000-08:00

David and I have been together for 3 years, 2 months and 16 days (but who's counting) and we have been on exactly 2 trips alone together. Once we went to Priest Lake because it was Mothers Day and Anna was with her dad and I was pitiful. The other time we went to Santa Cruz to celebrate David's 50th birthday.

All other trips have been with Anna and almost always to see family. Who we love, but you know, that can't really be considered a vacation. Our then there was our honeymoon, which was FABULOUS, but we took not only our 8 year old, but also David's mom, his 2 brothers (one of whom kept asking me to rub his feet), two nephews aand a sister-in-law. And that's just who shared our house with us. Then there were about 10 other friends who joined us for the week in Maui. Don't get me wrong, it was an absolute blast, and we wouldn't have changed a thing. But David and I? We need a vacation. ALONE.

And so we've decided to go to Moab in April. We're taking our mountain bikes because Moab is famous for its world-class mountain-biking trails. Don't worry, we checked: they have bunny hills. We've rented a darling little cottage near downtown with a BBQ and a lovely yard and we'll ride, eat, drink, hike, rest, read, ride, drink, hike and eat.

Moab and the desert of Southern Utah is one of my favorite places in the world. Generally, if you tell people you're taking a vacation to Utah, they think you've either got a screw loose or that you're planning on snatchin yourself a couple of new wives. But I'm telling you, there is nowhere in the world like Southern Utah. And April is the best time to go: the desert is just coming back to life after winter, the cactus begin to bloom and the birds are migrating through. And the weather is perfect: not too hot, not too cold, but juuuuust right.

I am so excited I can hardly stand it. Aaahhh. It's nice to have a trip to look forward to.

faux sun

2010-02-23T12:51:00.000-08:00

As I was driving to work this morning, out over the Palouse I saw the strangest thing. The sun was coming up over the hills, and there were very few clouds. There was a ring around the sun, but only visible in this cloud. And then, the really weird thing was that there was this big yellow glowing spot that was NOT THE SUN, but a reflection of the sun. Have you ever seen such a thing? Luckily I had my camera; this shot is not edited at all. The rainbow colors of the ring don't show up as well as I'd hoped, but this is exactly what the fake sun looked like:

Also, per my post below, if anyone reading this blog wants to contribute anything for the auction (which directly benefits Casting for Recovery), we'd love the help! Whether you sew handbags or throw pottery or, you know, you might happen to own a timeshare in Hawaii that you can't use this year! :) Please leave a comment if you have something to contribute (or ideas!). Thanks!

EDITED TO ADD:
Dear god (and Al Gore) thank you for the internet. And smarty-pants coworkers. Amen.

I showed the photo above to a coworker and he said he'd seen a recent story in the paper about this exact thing. Check it: Sun Dog.

Mark your calendars for the Hillbilly Gatherin'!

2010-02-23T08:27:00.000-08:00

My family hosts this C-RAZY party each year with a hillbilly theme wherein we all dress up like hillbillies (we ARE hillbillies, so we can make fun of them. Much like Rush Limbaugh using the word "retard." Oh my, did I just say that?) Anyway, there is music, dancing, and a pig roasting on the spit. People bring outrageous foods to share (last year there was something called "Swamp Lizard Cheese Loaf") and there are hilarious and highly embarrassing games. And maybe some drinking. I can't even tell you how much fun it is.

The party is held at this cool old barn in Hidden Springs, the very Pleansantville- like community my mom and sister live in near Boise. My sister Jodi, who started this whole thing (and has a blog called The Hidden Springs Hillbillies), decorated the barn with utinsils, bras, "big girl panties" and beer cans hanging from laundry lines.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Oh dear. This picture so disturbs me. Look at that thing!! It's hideous! And then there's the pig. Hahahhaaa! That's my awesome brother-in-law Ival. He likes meat.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

This is my brother, the ultimate hillbilly. He was not in costume; this is his "party hat" which he wears to weddings, funerals, parties and because, what the hell, it's always a good day to wear a top-hat. I love him.

My mom, my brother and me.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

The guy in the hat, and the girl in the denim dress below? Complete strangers who showed up at the party. Apparently they'd been walking by the barn MONTHS prior and they met my aforementioned brother-in-law who can talk the paint off a car. He of course invited them to the party, and not only did they remember and come, but they pretended it was their "wedding day"! They were SO funny. I think she had a fake pistol in her garter and her bouquet was dead flowers and dandelions. They brought their friends and some "moonshine".

This was their "wedding cake"! I can't tell you how much we all loved that the totally got the spirit of the party and just made themselves welcome. They were the hit of the party, for sure.

The party itself, aside from being crazy fun, is a benefit for Casting for Recovery, a non-profit organization that hosts breast-cancer survivors for a weekend of support, camaraderie and fly-fishing lessons. My sister was able to participate a couple of years ago and it was an incredible experience for her. The retreat is FREE for the women, so obviously Casting for Recovery needs all the help they can get. Last year, with NO promotion and just asking people to put a few buck in a jar, the party raised over $1500. This year we're adding a live auction!

AAAAAAAA

We've got all kinds of fun things to auction, including two 2-night vacations at Red Horse Mountain Ranch here in N. Idaho. Oh my god that is one of my favorite places on the planet and when I contacted them to donate, they did not hesitate to do so. I love them. Gorgeous setting, so many things to do, knowledgeable and awesome young "wranglers", great food, a beautiful lodge and just really wonderful people. I've been three times now, and every time I leave feeling so blissed out and counting the days until we can go back. It is so worth every penny.

My little contribution to the auction is this apron. I learned something AMAZING making this apron and that is? PATTERNS ARE USEFUL. I've attempted several full-aprons in my lifetime, each time thinking "Pattern? I don't need no stinking pattern!" Because how hard can it be to make an apron, for crying out loud. But strangely, NOT ONE of the previously attempted aprons came out as anything other than now-unfinished-projects taking up space in my sewing room. But this! A pattern! With pieces and instructions! It's a miracle! I'm quite pleased with how it turned out and again, I might have a hard time parting with it. But I will, because it's for a good cause. In fact, I'm going to make a couple more to donate. Because who doesn't love a sassy apron to wear while drinking a Cosmo and whipping up some nutritious food for your darling and hardworking husband, right? Don't forget your pearls and kitten heels!

This year the party is May 15th. EVERYONE is invited, and you don't have to live in Boise to come! We have people coming from all over the place, including a couple friends of my sister's who are flying up from Nashville!

We ask for a $20 donation which goes straight to Casting for Recovery, and OF COURSE Hillbilly attire is required! I'm already plotting on my outfit...

YEEEEHAAWWW! We'll see ya there!!

::zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz::

2010-02-22T09:36:00.000-08:00

Holy crap. This has become the world's most BOOORING blog. I'm just not feeling bloggy lately.

I guess now that I have another creative outlet, I don't feel the need to verbally vomit all over the internet so regularly. Sewing is probably much safer for me anyway; this way nobody gets hurt. Aside from me getting intimate with my seam-ripper, of course.

So what have I been doing? Well, here are some Rocket/Robot jammies I made for my friend Jennifer's little boy. I'd sent her a text message showing her the fabric I selected, and ever since that day, sweet Aiden has been asking, every time they get in the car, "Are we going to get my pajamas now?"

And I made this tunic for myself. I love it, and after some initial swearing over the sleeves, it was extremely easy to make. I plan to make several others; I think this may be my uniform for spring. I like it because I don't have to suck my stomach in. And really, that is the main criteria for clothing for me lately. Stop eating Ben & Jerry's every night? Hell no! I'll just buy/make bigger clothes.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

And then my dear friend Julie asked me to make a purse/tote style bag for her; she entrusted me to select the design and the fabric. Knowing that she loves the same colors as I do, I found the perfect fabric. She lives in the coast range of Oregon, in a home surrounded by mountains and the most lovely flora and fauna. She loves to garden and their property is covered in native plants, trees, gorgeous flowering bushes with a creek nearby. Check out the fern-like swirls, the little mushrooms and (ack!) the bunny hiding against the blue tree:

It is, quite possibly, my favorite thing I've ever made. If I didn't love her so much I would totally keep this for myself. It's even reversible! I hope she loves it. I am definitely going to make more of these to sell on etsy (and one to keep, of course!)

**All these fabrics were purchased from my new best friend/stalking victim Ari of Buttercuppity. She has a darling store here in Spokane, and she sells on etsy too. She is an absolute doll and we need to help her business thrive. I'm certainly doing my part! :)

Next up: more fascinating pictures of sewing projects. :)

Working on an adorable apron which will be auctioned off at the Hillbilly Games in May.

::do re mi handmade::

2010-02-08T09:39:00.001-08:00

I have a few items in my etsy shop, if you want to see what it's going to look like! Will have lots more inventory in the next couple of weeks.

I have 2 custom orders already! Whooohoo!

life with an animal lover

2010-02-01T12:26:00.000-08:00

I think I've mentioned before that my daughter loves loves LOVES Animal Planet. She especially loves watching the animal rescue shows (you know the ones, where they show the dogs or cats or horses all emmaciated and/or neglected and horribly abused). I think she has a stomach of steel, because none it phases her in the slightest. Her theory is that it's not gross, because the animals are being helped. There is a happy ending to the pain and suffering. This is how I know she will make a good Vet, if she continues on her current course of action. Me, I get queasy at the first sign of blood. In fact, she'll often warn me "Mom, you probably don't want to come in here, it's gross."

Anyway, yesterday we were watching a bit of Animal Planet, a show called Man Eaters, about big cats that well, eat people. (This was ironic as we started our Sunday with a trip to Urgent Care for a cat-bite! Yay!) So, we're watching the show and there's a story about a woman in California who was out hiking with friends when she decided to go back to the car by herself. She turned back and shortly thereafter came upon a Mtn. Lion standing on the trail. A split second later he jumped on her, latched onto her face (!) and brought her to the ground. The re-enactment shows how her friends heard her screams and came running to her aid. The 3 men tried everything to get the cat off her: screaming, kicking it, throwing rocks at it...until finally one of them remembered that he had a fishing knife. This was the only thing that got the cat to release its grip. As they are telling this story, they are showing photos from the hospital; this woman was horribly mauled and lost one of her eyes. The photos were gruesome. There was also a brief flash of the Mtn. Lion which had stumbled off and died from the knife wounds. Back to the scenes of the woman recovering in the hospital, bandaged up but crying from the traumatic memory of the brutal attack. Anna began crying and I thought "Oh my god, I probably shouldn't let her watch this." So I said "Oh honey, look! She survived! Her friends saved her and now she's fine! She's so lucky!"

And she said "That's not why I'm crying!! WHY DID THEY KILL THAT MOUNTAIN LION??!!!"

Sigh. And this is how I know she'll be a VET and not a doctor. I should have known; this was a kid who insisted on being a Mountain Lion for Halloween when she was 5.

sewing ROOOOOM

2010-01-29T14:37:00.000-08:00

Here is the room-formerly-known-as-"man room", now my SEWING ROOM!! WWWEEEEEEE!!

Can't wait to spend hours upon hours in there this weekend. I've ordered my clothing labels and I think tomorrow I may break down, throw caution (and my checkbook) to the wind and go buy that serger. What?! It's a business expense.

Happy weekend ya'll!!

::Do Re Mi::

2010-01-27T16:04:00.000-08:00

Ok, I'd sort of already decided on the name before I asked your opinions. I know, shocking, right? And so it is: Do Re Mi Handmade. Here is the link to my little etsy store which is not, obviously, up and running yet. Still sewing sewing sewing and dreaming about getting a serger which would make the sewing of clothing so much easier.

So tell me what you think of the banner I created. I made it before I saw the cute one my awesome and talented niece made. Hers is darn cute too.

The other thing I have to tell you is that, if I haven't mentioned it lately, I HAVE THE BEST HUSBAND IN THE WORLD. I do. Do you know what he did? He gave up his office/man room for me to use as my sewing room! I know! The space formerly-known-as-my-sewing-cave is a little space under the eves of the roof, with a skylight but roughly 4' by 6'. Put a desk/sewing table in there and all my sewing supplies, a bookshelf and bin upon bin of fabric, and, well, it was cramped. So now I have a room, a WHOLE ROOM and a big table on which to sew and a closet!!! I have the space to stage an entire dance number, and don't think I'm not planning on doing just that. And now David is using that little space under the eves, but because he is 6'5", he has to tilt his head at a 45 degree angle in order to get to his desk. It's probably only a matter of time before the muscles on the right side of his neck shorten permanently and he'll have to go through life looking as if he's cocking his head. It will be so cute and he'll look all inquisitive, like a puppy.

I'm telling you, if he's not careful, he's going to be stuck with me for life.

So I'm excited about this little endeavor. Who knows, I may not sell anything and then I'll have to give away all these pajamas like too many squash. But I'm having fun and for now it's keeping me from drinking out of a paper bag in public, yelling obscenities at passersby and warning them about the hazards of procreation. And that's really all we can hope for, isn't it?

I need your opinion

2010-01-25T09:59:00.001-08:00

Ok, so as you know, I am starting a little business making children's pajama sets. At least for now that is all I'll make. I do see myself, in the very near future, adding little dresses and some handbags. Why? Because those are the things I like to sew, and if I don't like what I'm sewing, I won't sew.

So. I need name. Currently I am Canyonwren Handmade, because, well, when you join etsy, you choose a username and that is, forevermore, the name you are stuck with. Canyon Wren is meaningful to me because I am a bird nerd, and the Canyon Wren is my favorite bird. What the hell does that have to do with children's clothes? Nothing. But because I haven't listed anything yet, it is not too late to start another account with a new name.

So, other options I am considering are (and these are available; that's the rub, many of the other names I came up with - such as Sweet Potato Pie - are already taken):

Mairsy Doats: this is from the song my mom taught me when I was little, you know "Mairsy doats and dosey doats and little lamsie divy, a kiddlie divy too, wouldn't you?" Ahem.

Smarty Pants Handmade: I just like it, and I have been known to call people "smarty pants".

Do Re Mi: because I am, above all else, a Sound of Music fanatic. This one, of course, has a special place in my heart.

Favorite Things: see above. I don't think I'm feeling this one so much though.

Spotted Frog: I think it's cute and I could make a very cute logo, but David says it sounds like a disease.

David votes for Canyon Wren because he hates "cutesie" names, and while I definitely lean toward more kitch than he does, I don't do cutsie either. He says that Canyon Wren is "tasteful and elegant and not overly cute." But my friend Christina practically shrieked at me and said "Canyon Wren?! That has nothing to do with anything! Especially hand made clothing for children! It's not fun! It's not playful! YOU SUCK!" Ok, she didn't say that last part but I know she was thinking it.

Again, keep in mind that while I will do mostly kids' clothes (if I ever do branch out to women's clothes, it would be only skirts) and the occasional handbag. So I guess I'd like something somewhat whimsical and/or playful because that is what I'll be doing, and also, that's pretty representative of me.

So, please cast your vote, and soon, so that I can get some labels ordered and get going!!

Animal lover

2010-01-22T16:15:00.000-08:00

My daughter. Oh. When I'm not fantasizing about listing her on Pet Finders for a small "re-homing fee", well, I think she's pretty damn fantastic.

While she thinks nothing of unleashing a fury that can strip paint onto the ones she loves most, well, she has the most sensitive, tender heart. She has always, since the day she could talk, LOOOOVED animals. For years (YEARS) her favorite thing in the whole entire world was to go to feed stores and pet stores to see the animals. Dogs, cats, baby pigs, chickens, rabbits, snakes, hairless rats, turtles...Of course, she wanted to bring every single one home, and it broke her heart when we had to leave without them. You'd think I'd have wizened up and instead lured her to, oh I don't know, a candy store or toy store or ANYTHING other than a place caused her, every single time, to look up at me with gigantic crocodile tears and say in the most pitiful voice imaginable "But mommy, if we don't save this puppy, who will?" Yeah. I'm a slow learner.

Well now we have these two sisters who pick Anna up from school each day and these girls? Are essentially 18 and 20 year old versions of Anna. They love rocks and fossils and beads and art and music and incense (uuggghh the incense) and above all, ANIMALS.

Specifically:

PIT BULLS.

I know. WTF, kid? Why not sweet little cuddly bunnies (oh yeah we've already rescued one of those. But still.) No, she chooses a beast that has a reputation for mauling faces off small children. DO NOT, however, make the mistake of mentioning this factoid to her, or you will experience one of those paint-stripping furies upon your being, as she wails "EVERYBODY HATES PIT BULLS!! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!!! THEY ARE SWEET AND LOVING UNLESS STUPID PEOPLE TRAIN THEM TO BE MEAN!!!!!!! THEY DESERVE TO BE LOVED TOO!!!"

She may have a point, but really? I'm not interested in testing this theory. I do, however, love that she is so empathetic and open-minded. Me, I admit to having a pit-bull prejudice.

Anyway, she has now decided that she is going to start her own little Pit Bull (or Pitties, as she affectionately calls them) fund raiser. She has convinced a small group of friends at school to join her, and they are going to "sell lemonade and brownies and have yard sales once a month to raise money for Pit Bull shelters." How cute is that? The other day she informed me that she needed help printing off some pictures of Pit Bulls, because she and her friends were going to do a "presentation" in front of the class. (Let me tell you, if you ever want to give yourself a 4-day case of the heebie-jeebies, just go ahead and google "pictures of pit bulls" and then get ready to test your gag reflex because let's just say? There are not just cute pictures of cuddly Pit Bull puppies. Ooooh no, there are photos, very graphic photos, of the damage they are capable of.)

Anyway, that day she couldn't wait to call me after school and tell me: "MOM!!! Guess what??!! When we first said we were going to talk about Pit Bulls, the whole class said 'Uuggghh. We hate Pit Bulls!' but by the time we showed them the pictures and talked about how there are so many of them that need good, loving homes because they have been abused, everyone in the class agreed to help us!"

Her teacher was so impressed by their impassioned plea, that she asked them to give their presentation in front of the whole school at the next assembly!

True, it's not the cause I would choose, but I LOVE that she is so empathetic toward these animals and is going to DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.

Yeah, I guess I'll keep her.

::sweatshop::

2010-01-22T09:53:00.000-08:00

The sweatshop will be in full swing this weekend; I am determined to get my little etsy shop up and running within the next week or two! Remember at the beginning of the year when I said 2010 was going to be the year I try to sell my goods on etsy? And here it is, January 20th, and I have my shop all set up, have made several sets of pajamas, am going to get a business license and re-sellers' license next week (hellooooo buying fabric at wholesale!!). It's a frickin miracle people!!! I am well on my way to doing something I said I was going to do! I know. Alert the media!!

While I have set up my shop (written up my profile and shop policies, payment and shipping info. etc.), I haven't "activated" it yet. I want to get more inventory made before I go "live". I made another pair yesterday and can't wait to turn out several more this weekend. Woohoo!

Here's a sneak preview; forgive the hokie back-of-the-closet-door display and flash photography. After taking these pictures I realized two things: 1) natural light is crucial for taking the best photos and 2) that I need to break down and buy a standing dress form so that that clothes will hang appropriately. I bought one off ebay; should arrive early next week.

Happy weekend!

::smashed grannies::

2010-01-21T10:13:00.000-08:00

It has been a colossally shitty week at casa sweetpotato. Well, not colossal compared to, say, Haiti, but we've been experiencing Hurricane Anna all week and let me tell you, I'm feeling completely battered and bruised and have been picking splinters out of my forehead.

The drama and emotions around our house have left me on the verge of tears; perhaps that is why, when I saw this picture on a local-news blog, I burst into laughter.

What?! Nobody was hurt.

Yes, I'm going to hell. But you know, at this point I really don't care, as long as there's wine.

why yes, you CAN build a better mousetrap

2010-01-15T09:26:00.000-08:00

Through the wonders of Facebook, I have reconnected with a long-lost friend I'd met during our time in rural Tillamook county.

We could not have been more different, Kristi and I. She had grown up there, had been the high school prom queen, married the quarterback and had 4 kids by the time she was 22. She drove a huge truck, could gut a deer with her eyes closed and didn't take shit from ANYBODY. I adored her.

This morning she reminded me of a story from when we first met. Word, it seems, had gotten around about Eric and I.

Now, Eric and I had been living in Eugene (you know, where tie-die clothing is always in fashion and people swear that Jerry will never die, man) for a couple of years. For reasons I won't bore you with now, we got the brilliant idea to move to the Oregon coast. Unfortunately, the Oregon coast (at least the town to which we moved) is located in Tillamook County. Tillamook county is as close to Mississippi as it gets on the west coast. We're talking R U R A L. It's all dairy farmers (as you can imagine), loggers, hunters, ATVs, and Monster Truck rallies on the weekends.

So Eric and I pull into town, idealistic little environmentalists. It's not too long before we discover that our rental house has a raging mouse problem; on our counters, in our cupboards, in our drawers! We had to do something about it. Our plan was to catch them and then "relocate" them, somewhere far from our kitchen and our utensils and our organic bread. You know, a lovely field somewhere.

So we go down to the local hardware store, where we are given an unsmiling once-over from behind the counter by the grumpy owner. This man is so surly, so ornery, that we will learn later his nickname is "Grissel". He can obviously spot an outsider from 100 paces and has no tolerance for city-folk.

Sensing this not-so-warm-welcome, we get down to business and ask, glancing hopefully down each isle, "Where would we find the humane mousetraps?"

"....."

and then: "The WHAT? What the hell is a humane mousetrap?"

We explain slowly because he is obviously not very bright: "You know, a trap that lures the mouse into it without killing it, so you can then set him free somewhere else?" DUH.

He bent over laughing, slapping the counter, tears pouring down his cheeks. And from that point on, over the next 10 years we lived there, that man never looked at us with a straight face again, whether we dared come into his hardware store, ran into him at the post office, or at the local cafe.

We ended up ordering our humane mousetraps over the Internet. I, for one, am proud that there are, by now, several generations of little mouse families who have been born and raised in a mountainside meadow with a stunning view of the Pacific ocean.

::birth control::

2010-01-12T13:02:00.000-08:00

A few moments ago I was in the break-room rooting around in the refrigerator, when a co-worker came in and said to me "Hey, what's that tattoo you've got on your lower back?"

I stood up quicky, tugging my shirt down over my hips. "What tattoo?"

"I'm pretty sure I saw some ink back there."

Sheepishly, and because she is also a friend, I lifted my shirt to reveal the, uh, artwork my daughter gave me a couple of nights ago.

"KICK ME", it says, in permanent marker.

Little shit told me she was going to draw a flower or butterfly or something pretty.

I knew I should have raised German Shepherds.

::random photos::

2010-01-11T10:15:00.000-08:00

Holy crap, I just downloaded photos from my camera and realized I still had pictures from Christmas on there.

This year, as we unpacked the Christmas paraphernalia, Anna noticed for the first time that all three of our stockings are exactly alike. They are cute stockings, but it's true: they are not personalized in any way. BAAAAD mommy. She said "How do we know which one is mine? I need one with my name on it or something!" So of course I had to get busy making her her own stocking, out of wool felt. Think there will be any question, in the future, who's stocking this is?

My ex hubby came over for a bit on Christmas morning; the three of them got quite a kick out of her new Far Side book, although the daddies probably enjoyed it more than she did.

I discovered this new wonderful little fabric store in town, Buttercuppity. The owner, Ari, is adorable and she shares my love/obsession for fabric. I talked her into making an apron for Anna a week before Christmas (because I was running out of time) and it turned out SO cute! I got Anna a kids' cookbook for Christmas, along with this apron, and she went right into the kitchen and made a batch of blueberry muffins from scratch, on Christmas morning:

Is that not the cutest thing ever?

And look! She made one for me, as an extra surprise! I LOVE it!! Ari is going to be my new best friend, whether she likes it or not.

Christina and the girls, making Christmas cookies:

AAAAAA

This man didn't have children because he didn't think he'd be a good father. And then we came along. Christina's girls love him pretty much more than puppies and ice cream.

I don't know what Anna is doing. Probably yelling "I WANT A HORSE!!!" in his general direction.

He is always such a good sport.
Sister-friends. Anna tells people that Piper and Skylar are "pretty much my sisters", which is true, only better: these little sisters come over, play, and then go home. That part works especially well for me. Piper is naked, as usual. She is, after all, her mother's daughter. (hee! LOVE you, Christina!) I have many pictures of the three of them in various stages of nudity, dancing in the living room. I opted against posting them for obvious reasons, but these girls are free spririts. I don't know where they get it!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Friends: Early morning on the stairs, watching me make coffee. I love this silly corgi, even if she is a bed-hog.

And finally, new pajamas for Piper and Skylar. I'd made them some two years ago, and poor Skylar still insists on wearing those, even though they are, of course, at least two sizes too small now. So it was time for some new ones. I love making these so much, finding just the right fabrics and embellishing them. This year I am going to make some of these to sell on etsy. What kiddo wouldn't love personalized pajamas?

And that's all I got for now. Carry on.

I was born in the wrong era.

2010-01-07T14:44:00.001-08:00

There is an etsy shop called Timeless Vixen Vintage and I swear, she has the most incredible inventory of 1950s dresses.

I wish I'd seen this when I was looking for a wedding dress:

Of course, I have no waist whatsoever, but, well, that's what girdles are for, right?
aaaaaaaaaaaaa

Look at this beauty:

Stunning.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

And then there's this. Oh my god. The color! The details! Gah!!

SWOOOON!!! Seriously, how could you not feel GORGEOUS in this?

aaaaaaaaaaaa

Ok, look at this little number:

I would wear her on an afternoon date, driving up the California coast in a 1950s convertible, of course. Sunglasses, scarf and heels. AAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

The lovely wants to be dancing to Louis Prima, under the stars.

aaaaaaaaa

And this. Oh lord. My favorite: I want to swish around the house, in heels and pearls, making cocktails wearing this:

Why don't we dress like this anymore? So elegant, so feminine, so, so beautiful.

Sigh.

WTF?

2010-01-04T12:31:00.000-08:00

So back in college, my friend Jen and I became friends with another girl we worked with. Christy, I'll call her, because that is her name and I'm too damn tired for pseudonyms.

Christy let it be known that her family had money and lots of it. Her dad took them on ski-vacations to France every year and her step-mother was in Town and Country magazine. Sure, she loved to tell everyone that she was a "spoiled princess", but she was very fun and funny and loved to drink. Hello, insta-friendship!

After college she got married and moved to N. Idaho. She and her husband decided not to have children because they were "too selfish and didn't want to give up their life-style". Eric and I moved to Oregon, but Christy and I wrote and called occasionally for a few years before we lost touch.

Flash-forward 12 years. Eric and I have moved back to N. Idaho and I am working a couple of nights a week at a cute, hip little cafe. One night we were expecting a 12-top and at the appointed hour, a big obnoxious stretch-limo pulled up in front. Loud, drunken revelers streamed into the restaurant and took their seats. Guess who was among them? Yes, I got to serve food to my old college friend. Wow, did I LOVE that! She seemed hurt that I hadn't contacted her when we'd moved back and insisted we exchange phone numbers so that we could catch up.

We met for coffee a couple of weeks later and it was fine. Not the instant-reconnection I'd hoped for, but fine. As we left the coffee shop, she asked which way I parked.

"That way", I pointed.

"Oh, me too. I hope you didn't hit my car when you parked!"

"..."

"Because I have a new Volvo and I hope you didn't hit it. Yes, I'm still a spoiled princess. I drive a Volvo now!"

Ok, that wasn't so cute or endearing coming from a now 34 year old.

We made a couple feeble attempts to get together again after that, but it never happened. A few months later, I moved to Spokane, 30 miles away, and again we lost touch. Then, a couple of weeks ago, she found me on Facebook. "Hi! Are you still living in the area? I'd love to get together and catch up!"

Alright, I thought; it's been 6 years and a lot has happened: her beloved mother-in-law died a slow and horrible death, I'd heard that her marriage was rocky....surely she's matured and become less, well, self-absorbed and materialistic, right?? Sure, we can try this again.

And then, on Saturday, I received another email from her, saying "Let's get together for dinner next time I'm in town. I have to come over in three weeks because I had to special-order some tires for my brand-new 2009 BMW! Yes, I have a 2009 BMW!"

Ok, is it me, or is that really fucking irritating??

I haven't responded yet because I'm currently struggling with my less charitable self. I'm resisting the urge to write back something like "Wow! I've never ridden in a BMW before! Can I have a ride? Huh, huh can I? I promise not to get your new leather seats dirty! I'll even wax it for you!"

I'm thinking I'm just going to ignore that email and let this "friendship" fade away once and for all.

What would you do?

::be it pink, purple or heliotrope::

2009-12-24T10:31:00.000-08:00

This little short film by the geniuses at Pixar, makes me so happy every time I watch it. Hope you enjoy it too.

(if you can't see the whole screen, click on it and it will open in a new window.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

::drunken santas::

2009-12-22T15:53:00.000-08:00

Last year my mom and I took a brief mother-daughter trip to NYC. We had SO much fun; we saw the Rockettes Christmas Super Duper Uber Extraveganza (no, really, it was amazing), we took a tour of the city including riding the ferry out to see the Statue of Liberty, we posed for pictures at the ice-rink at Rockefeller plaza, we asked a secret service guy for directions, we saw gorgeous cathedrals and the Empire State Building and so many fun things. Being two hicks from Idaho, NYC often left us awestruck, slack-jawed and/or laughing hysterically. One of my favorite images, though, was from when I went for a walk by myself while my mom rested; I was just so high on the energy of the city that I just had to keep walking and walking and walking. At one point, as I walked up one of the avenues toward Central Park, I passed by a tavern. As I passed, the door swung open and out came Santa! Then another....and another....and another... All in all, I counted EIGHT Santas and let me tell you, they had been enjoying the nog. They were stumbling a little bit and, I shit you not, singing. God, I wish I'd had a camera!!

I wonder, though, how traumatic that scene would have been if a child had witnessed not one drunken Santa, but eight. How would his mother have explained that one??

Anyway, happy holidays to you and yours. Ho Ho Ho!!! Meeeeerry Christmas!!

::moving on::

2009-12-14T09:12:00.000-08:00

A visit to PeopleofWalmart.com is always a good way to start the week. Let's review some of my recent favorites.

Why are there so many people in Walmart who seem to have forgotten an important article of clothing??

Attention Walmart shoppers! Today we are having a sale on PANTS! Buy one get one free!

Oh honey, I agree. Those tights are far too fabulous to cover up.
AAAAAAAA

Many Walmart shoppers can not be bothered to get out of their pajamas. I actually think this is my sister. Hi Jod! I like your slippers.

And what is UP with the cross-dressing, people??

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I love this one:

Flowing locks? Check. Sassy tights? Yeah, baby. Camo skirt? HELL yes.

Dude, I LOVE your sandals. They really accentuate your long legs. And again, you can never go wrong as long as you're wearing Camo.

This poor bastard can't decide if he's Santa Clause or the Tooth Fairy. And really, why should he have to choose?

Oh, Walmart. You almost make me love you.

::eighteen minutes::

2009-12-10T08:02:00.000-08:00

That's how long our conversation lasted.

It started with me offering up common ground. "It seems we got off on the wrong foot, and I'd like to try to fix that. We actually have a lot in common: we both knit and sew and read the same kinds of books. We have the same political leanings, have the same values and interests and I think we could be friends."

...she stares at me with her usual pinched look, saying nothing. So I continue.

"I know that our....tenuous relationship causes Eric stress, and he feels caught in the middle. It's not fair for him to be in that situation, and it's not productive to the relationship that you have with Anna, either."

Again, she stares at me, silent.

I go on to say that I think she has so much to offer Anna (ok, I was being generous there), saying "You are a smart, strong woman, passionate about what you do and you could be a really positive role model for Anna."

Her first words of the night: "Well, first of all, I disagree with many of the things you just said."

I swallow and regroup; this is not off to a good start. I try another angle and I ask her what her concerns are.

She said that Anna doesn't respect her a parent, and I said "Ok, well, I think that right now you are outside the loop, by choice. Eric and David and I present a united-front; we have created this really healthy and positive model of parenting-after-divorce, and you have avoided participating in that. Therefore Anna sees you as an outsider."

She said "I don't want to be a part of what you've created. That's not the only choice here."

Ok....

I said "Of course it's not the only choice, but Eric and I brought a child into the world, and it's our life-time responsibility to raise her in the way that works best for all of us. We communicate about everything, we make big decisions together and most importantly, Anna knows she is being raised by people working together for her benefit. We will always parent this way, because it works and because when Eric and I divorced, we agreed that this is what we wanted it to look like."

"But not every divorce looks like that."

"Well, it's what every divorce should look like when there are children involved," I say.

"That's YOUR opinion."

"........."

At this point I think there might have been steam coming out of my ears, but I remained completely calm and said "But J., it's working for everyone else but you. And it's not going to change, because it is working and we are all very proud of the situation we have created. I'm not going anywhere and Anna isn't going anywhere. You happen to be dating a man with an ex-wife and a child, and really, you should be thrilled that he is the kind of man that he is, who adores his daughter and maintains a healthy, cooperative co-parenting relationship with his ex-wife. "

"Well then, maybe I have a choice to make".

"Yes," I said, looking her right in the eye, "Perhaps you do."

"Well," she huffed, scooting her chair back to leave, "It's obvious you didn't come here to accommodate me."

Oh yes. She did.

So, I tried.

And the thing is, you know how when you have these big, important conversations with people and later you think of a million things you wish you had said? Well, amazingly enough, I said every single thing I wanted and needed to say, and better yet, I didn't say a single thing I regret. I stayed completely (and uncharacteristically) calm and level-headed and gracious the entire time, even when she was completely unreasonable.

Now. Does anyone know where I can find a voodoo doll?

::send band-aids::

2009-12-08T08:10:00.000-08:00

Ok, so if you've been reading this blog for long, or if you know me in person, you're familiar with the, um, tenuous relationship I have with my ex-husband's girlfriend. In short, she is not supportive of the on-going friendship E. and I have, and the way we continue to co-parent our daughter. Because hello? We are (and will always be) Anna's parents. Anyway, I'll spare you the details, but there was another uncomfortable situation this past weekend and it's time to take the bull by the horns.

Because she and E. have been together for 3 years and she has not warmed up to me (or Anna) in the slightest, I guess I feel the need to make one last-ditch attempt. Because I can not handle it when someone doesn't like me. Because our dislike for each other puts E. in an uncomfortable position of having to defend each of us to the other. Because it would just feel so much better if she and I had some sort of friendship. Because I'm a nice person, damn it.

And so I reached out and made the phone call yesterday. We are going to meet for coffee tomorrow night to discuss "things". I'm hoping to clear the air, to explain some misunderstandings. I want her to know that I will always be part of E's life, because we have a child together, and I want nothing more than for E. to be happy. I want her to understand that she is welcome, if she is willing, to be part of the family that E. and David and I have have worked so hard to create around Anna. (see post below). I want her to know that I am no threat whatsoever; I could not possibly be more happily re-married.

So wish me luck. And if I'm not back in two hours, call 911.

PS. Advice on how to handle the situation is more than welcome!

::group hug::

2009-12-01T07:02:00.000-08:00

When Anna was little, my ex-husband Eric and I used to do something with Anna called "group hug", which was basically just Eric and I hugging with Anna in the middle. She adored it because, well, she was in the middle of her two favorite people in the world, feeling safe and loved.

After we divorced, she'd still occasionally request a "group hug", and Eric and I would laugh and then humor her with a brief, if not somewhat awkward, "group hug". The ritual continued with me and David though, and there are few things Anna loves more than to get in the middle when David and I are trying to hug or kiss.

Last night, David came home from the grocery store and had a big smile on his face. He said he'd run into Anna and Eric at the grocery store. He and Eric stood and chatted for a few minutes, and then, as they parted, Anna said "Group hug!"

I would have given anything to see these two 6'5" men, my ex-husband and my current husband, hugging in the produce isle, with a little blond girl in the middle, grinning from ear to ear.

Hot flashes and night sweats and mood swings, oh my!

2009-11-24T09:44:00.000-08:00

So I've suffered from night-sweats off and on for several years. I go through phases where, a couple of times a week I'll wake up sweating my proverbial balls off. And then I'll go weeks or months without it happening. I've managed to be grateful that I hadn't started having hot-flashes yet because hot-flashes, in my mind, meant you were officially an "old woman". And since night-sweats happen, well, at night, they can be my little secret.

But now? Now I ask anybody who within earshot: "Are you hot? Is it hot in here? Am I the only one who's HOT right now??" David and Anna informed me this morning that no, not only is it not hot, it was, in fact, borderline cold.

Which can mean only one thing: I am in full-on perimenopause. Woohoo!!!

Just thought I'd share that with you. If you'd like to complain about the freaky things your body is doing without your permission, feel free, in the comments. Or not. I don't give a shit. (ha! A little mood-swing humor.)

Anyway! Tomorrow we are driving down to Boise to spend the weekend with my family. Which means David will get his carnivore fix. And I get kiss my brother's butt to see if he'll UN-disown me. Fun! But I am looking forward to spending time with my mom, and my sister, and nieces and nephews, and hiking in the foothills, and I get to hold the world's cutest baby for the next 4 days.

If you're driving, travel safely. Love your family. Kiss babies. Make amends.

Happy Thanksgiving.

StoryCorps

2009-11-20T08:36:00.000-08:00

Grab some kleenex and a cup of tea, and listen to this edition of StoryCorps, about a young boy who seemd to know he was on his way to something better. It's almost enough to make an old, black-hearted, non-believer like me think there might be something to the idea of "premonition."

::suckish::

2009-11-18T16:22:00.000-08:00

That is one of Anna's new favorite words and really? I think it perfectly describes me and my blogging lately. There are a few reasons for this, mainly because I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. Hauling my carcass to and from work is all the energy I can muster. Then it's pajamas and a good book by the fire. It's time to hibernate, no?

I am plotting on my next sewing project....a bag made from some vintage velvet found at an estate sale last summer....mmmm...I'm quite excited to get started on it.

I promise I'll work up a good rant or something of interest in the next day or two. In the meantime, drink your Echinacea tea and stay warm and cozy.

xoxoxoxo

::carnage::

2009-11-13T18:26:00.001-08:00

That poor snail never had a chance.

let's get together and feel alright

2009-11-10T11:45:00.000-08:00

Playing For Change Song Around The World "One Love" from Playing For Change on Vimeo.

This is so beautiful. Bob Marley certainly had the right idea.

(Thanks, Cole, for sharing this with me!)

pity my husband

2009-11-06T10:58:00.001-08:00

Poor David. You have no idea how this man suffers because of me and my daughter. The poor bastard made exactly ONE spontaneous decision in his life (seriously? This man will spend weeks or months researching gravel); that one spontaneous decision was marry me. And now he's going to spend the rest of his life paying for it. (Literally! Hi honey! I love you!)

As if that weren't bad enough, he also has to put up with my crazy (crazy!) friends coming and staying in our house. This weekend, for example, there will be 9 females in our house, and exactly one male. Guess who! And the strange thing is, he's remarkably good natured about it. For example, he lets the little girls climb all over him (I think he secretly likes it), he often gets talked into being a "horsie", and AND he mixes drinks for the mamas. I know! How did I get so lucky?

This weekend Christina and her girls are coming over, as well as Nichole and Syringa and Kathy and Delaney. We are literally going to have bodies sleeping in every room downstairs, including David's "man room".

If estrogen were flammable, our house would spontaneously combust sometime tomorrow evening, as the moon rises and we begin to howl.

Add David to your prayer list. And send vodka.

::faith::

2009-11-05T08:10:00.000-08:00

As a comment to my last post titled "It sure would be nice to believe in God right now", my sister asked "what is the harm in believing"?

On Monday, the day a few of us were reeling from the news of C.'s latest diagnosis, my friend Laura sent, to everyone BUT me, an interview with Anne Lamott, wherein she talks about God. Laura mentioned the video clip in conversation, and I said I wanted to see it, as Anne Lamott is one of my all-time favorite authors. Laura expressed shock, because the last several books of Anne's have been about faith and said "You want to see it, even though it's all about God stuff?"

Here is my response to both of those questions. My atheism came gradually; it wasn't a lightening-bolt reaction to something I read or an experience I had. I considered myself "spiritual" up until probably 4-5 ago. If someone had asked me if I believed in God, I would have said yes. True, I didn't believe in "the God up in the sky, sitting on a cloud, watching and judging us all." Nor did I believe that s/he heard and answered every prayer. But at the time I found comfort in believing that something, someone was "in charge". It was reassuring to "know" that there was a higher-power, someone I could (and did) turn to when something scary happened and I felt out of control. I'd never felt the need for my "faith" to make sense to anyone other than myself; I certainly didn't need it to fit into the box of any organized religion.

I never, however, believed that the bible was anything other than a folk-tale of sorts, written by regular, mortal men. I was also leery of organized religion, how many of its followers used the bible as justification for hatred and intolerance. Many people who call themselves "Christians" are horribly hypocritical; watching the nightly news will confirm that. I also always wondered how and why each religion had a different god, that, for them, was "the one", and anyone putting faith in another god was wrong and would suffer whatever horrible fate their particular religion believed in.

I can't pinpoint exactly when or why I started putting less and less faith into "God". I know that I certainly questioned "Him" when those planes crashed into the World Trade Center on September 11th. How could a loving, benevolent god bring me a baby or help someone win a football game but allow thousands and thousands of innocent people to die in such a horrific way? The prayers must have been literally deafening that day.

Ironically, the other important event that played a roll in my letting go of my "faith": the same sister mentioned above was diagnosed with breast cancer. While she and my mom became more faithful, prayer, to me, felt especially empty at that time. I was not about to sit back and pray to some god who may or my not feel like answering my prayers that day. It felt way too passive. I began to read everything I could get my hands on to educate myself about breast cancer and what we, as women (and men), needed to do to cure it and, in my case, to try to avoid it in the future. I began to feel stronger, more confident in my own knowledge and ability; that we, as individuals, are in control of our bodies, our lives, our future. True, we can't control whether or not we get cancer, but we sure as hell control what we do about it. We choose to have surgery and chemotherapy or we choose to visit a shaman in Mongolia or we put our faith in a Chinese herbalist, or whatever. It is up to us, regular, mortal, terrified, powerful, strong, faithful, flawed individuals to control our own destiny. I can't tell you how incredibly empowering it is to know that.

Around this same time I did read some things that further allowed me to feel ok about being a non-believer. Julia Sweeny's "Letting Go of God" felt like an epiphany; she was questioning and feeling all the exact same things I felt. And it did feel like a "letting go", like throwing away the crutches. Or rather, the crutch. As time wore on, and I didn't need to convince myself that there is a "higher power", I allowed myself to believe what I'd always really known in my heart: I can not and do not believe in god, no more than I can or do believe in Santa Clause. So in answer to my sister's quesiton: there is no "harm" in believing; I just don't. Sure, sometimes I wish I did; occassionally, like when someone I love is facing something terrifying, I wish I could believe that some higher power will just step in and save the day. But I can't.

The thing I want to make clear, though, is that I do not judge others who do believe. I don't shun people who do, nor do I avoid reading books about faith. I actually find it all incredibly fascinating, learning what others believe. True, I probably wouldn't choose to hang out with a fundamentalist Christian, simply because we wouldn't have much to talk about after awhile. But the people I know who believe in God are reasonable enough to admit that there are inconsistencies in the bible, and that believing does require a certain amount of blind faith, so to speak. But for them, the comfort of believing in a higher power outweighs the questions, and I can certainly understand and relate to that, and them.

What matters is that we each find the story that makes the most sense to us, whether it is God, or Buddha, or The Great Flying Spaghetti Monster, or the belief that we are in control; we each need to find the thing that brings us the most comfort and hold on to it for dear life. We must honor and respect each other for our differences and to use our own belief system, whatever it is, to make the world a better place. I saw a quote the other day, in my doctor's office. It was from Bill Gates and it said "At the end of your life, it doesn't matter how you lived. What matters is how others lived because of you." That is what I believe in.

It sure would be nice to believe in god right about now

2009-11-02T11:12:00.000-08:00

Last year my never-smoked-in-her-life, clean-living, yoga-practicing, organic-food eating friend and coworker, C., was diagnosed with stage-4 lung cancer. Cancer, however, didn't know who he was messing with, and C. kicked his butt. She is strong: a beautiful, tall, Indian warrior-woman in a Super-Girl cape with a smile that knocks you over and a fierce, loving heart. The doctors said they'd never seen such an amazing recovery from stage-4. Life slowly got back to normal, she came back to work and we could breathe again.

And then couple of weeks ago, C. was eating dinner while watching television, and suddenly the TV tilted in one direction and her right arm wasn't working as it should. For fear of being a hypochondriac, she didn't think much of it and didn't mention it to anyone other than her husband for a week or so, until she casually mentioned it to her general practitioner during a routine visit. He suggested setting up an MRI appointment, just to be safe. The appointment still several days away, C. had another "incident" yesterday; she felt, she said, like her brain wasn't communicating with her body as it should, and her right arm began to spasm. Her husband said "That's it. We are not waiting for your appointment," put her in the car and drove her to town.

At the emergency room the doctor performed some tests and based on her delayed responses and disorientation, called for a CAT scan. The results showed swelling in the brain, which, they informed her was "not good" considering her status as a lung-cancer patient. An MRI was performed and it came back showing two tumors. Her lung cancer has spread to her brain.

If you are a believer, the praying type, please send up a message for my friend. She's going to need all the love and support and prayers she can get.

::daughter::

2009-10-29T12:59:00.000-07:00

Over lunch I was reading an issue of Oprah magazine, an article about change. In it, the writer talks about how "your sweet baby becomes a toddler, and before you know it she is celebrating her sweet 16, her acne clears up, she no longer talks to you, she falls in love with someone you wouldn't even allow into your house if you had a choice, she moves away and you hardly get to see your grandchildren."

It took every ounce of strength I had not to lay my head down on my desk and sob. Literally.

How do mothers survive it? Sure, it's slightly more gradual than that. When they are born you are EVERYTHING to them: comfort, food, safety, security, warmth, love. They develop and learn new skills, and soon they able to feed themselves and get themselves to sleep and for this you are grateful. But they still need your help in the bath, and when they fall or are sick you are all they want. And you are grateful for that, too. Before you know it, they are off at school, with friends you don't know, and you can feel it happening, her having a life that doesn't include you.

In the morning, when she is still sleepy, we snuggle in the big green chair, me stroking her hair as she relaxes and breathes deeply against my chest like when she was little, only now her legs are so long they dangle over the side. I know enough to be so grateful for these moments. I know that when I take her to school later in the morning, she won't hold my hand as we walk to her room, and I already know better than to try to kiss or hug her in front of her friends. I know that tonight when I come to sit next to her, she will pull away when I reach out for a hug. But if I sit quietly enough, not expecting anything, she will eventually stretch out her legs like a cat, her warm bare feet in my lap.

At the moment she still thinks that I am pretty, have good taste in music and that I am hilarious, most of the time. She still can't wait to tell me about her day at school, and the funny thing this one boy did at recess, most of the time.

Even as I can feel it happening, I am terrified of the disconnect. We are intertwined on such a deep, intimate, natural level that I can't wrap my brain around letting go of her. It would literally feel like an amputation. How do mothers do it?

And then I wonder: is this the reason teenage girls are so monstrous, so moody, so downright awful? So that mothers can, just a little bit, start to imagine life without the black rain cloud moving sullenly through the house? So that we let ourselves fantasize, every now and then, about what it might feel like to live without the eye-rolling, back-talk, slamming doors? So that a slight smile might actually form at the corner of our mouths as we envision the day they pack up and move away to college?

That is a genius bit of evolution, if you look at it that way.

Suddenly, I feel much better.

A few more Greenbluff photos

2009-10-27T10:21:00.000-07:00

Look at this face! How could you ever say no to this face? Ice Cream for dinner? Sounds good! You need your own car? Sure! You want a pony? Why not two?!

I used the "cross process" editing tool on this photo and I love how it adds to the vintage feel of the image.

While Christina and I were at Home Depot, the girls formed a band named The Halloween Cats. It involved drumming and cowbells and singing earnestly about cats named "Blood" and "Thud".

sssssssss

And finally...

Piper, immediately after she informed me, "My mommy says we're getting rid of AAAALLL THE JUNK FOOD in our lives!" Notice the brownie mix all over her face. That will teach her mommy to leave Auntie Kate in charge. Bwwaaahhahhaaaa!!

I am so glad that Christina and her girls are part of our lives.

AAAAAAAAAA

She might not feel the same about me.

::friend::

2009-10-26T09:53:00.001-07:00

This is my friend Christina.

She is the mother of two beautiful and charming little girls, Skylar and Piper. She is an artist and painter and gardener and handy-woman extra-ordinaire. On Saturday she and her girls came over for the weekend and we went out to Greenbluff to get pumpkins. This is our yearly tradition. Well, ok, we've only done it two years in a row, but it's our tradition now.

So we hunted, we gathered, and we carved. Then Sunday morning we woke up and had a brief conversation about my bathroom, specificly how the tiles are falling off the vanity because the dork who "remodeled" our house before we bought it ATTACHED THE TILES WITH A HOT GLUE GUN. And also? The vanity itself is butt-ugly, white with black trim and I honestly believe the guy found it at the dump, painted it and called it good. But not before he did some handy work with the hot glue gun, of course. Now, David has had A LOT of work done to make our house beautiful, and we love it. But the bathroom has been ignored because while ugly, it is functional. And we had other priorities, like getting rid of the approximately 40 tons of volcanic rock that was embeded in the living room wall in the form of a fireplace, for example. And room after room of shag carpet. And an upstairs to remodel. And walls to be painted. And a large yard to landscape. You get the picture. We agree that the bathroom will get a major over-haul one day, but probably not for a couple of years.

My point (and I do have one) is that Christina said "We can do something about your bathroom that will make it more tolerable until you can really remodel it, you know." This sounded like she actually meant WE and I was having none of that. I whined, and claimed to be helpless and might have suggested that anything involving power tools was man's work. But Christina rolled her terrible eyes and gnashed her terrible teeth. And then she took measurements, drew some diagrams, and plotted and planned. As soon as David walked in the door from the grocery store, we threw 3 children at him and said "We're going to the hardware store! See you later!"

So Christina and I went and bought supplies and she went to work on our bathroom. She hammered, she drilled, she painted and those fugly falling-off tiles are no more! She even installed a hand-towel rack. I'm officially a grown up with a real hand-towel rack! And all it took was a pencil and a little drill and about .05 seconds! It was quite impressive. The vanity still needs to be painted, and we got the supplies to do so, but it is extremely smelly paint and we had people coming over later that night, so we decided to hold off on that project. But I can't tell you how impressed I am with her carpentry skills and her ability to ignore a whining 44 year old. I guess she's had practice, what with her 3 and 5 year olds. She is a serious stud and I love her. Now we can tolerate our bathroom for another couple of years. Woohoo!

Tomorrow I'll tell you about the AMAZING dinner we made yesterday and the brilliant plan behind it.

hurts so good

2009-10-14T13:53:00.000-07:00

From my new favorite website, Akward Family Photos.

Soulmates? Somebody isn't so sure.

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I had to look at this one for awhile before I saw it:

aaaaaaaaaaaaaa
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The photographer didn't dare ask them to look at the camera.

aaa

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"Even against a grey wall, Gerry refused to blend in."

The archives of this site will keep me entertained for awhile.

pictures from portland

2009-10-09T08:46:00.001-07:00

The first time I saw my family, about mile 1, which explains why I look so fresh and happy. And poor little Anna looks half asleep.

An unexpected visit with my support group; David pulled a banana and a bagel out of his pocket.

This was about mile 18; those hugs kept me going...

The home stretch! Still on two legs!

I did it!! Every finisher gets a t-shirt, a medal, a rose (Portland is the "rose city") and a tree seedling. Anna named ours "Mary", for mary-thon, of course, and we're going to plant it in the yard this weekend. It will be fun to remember that this little tree joined our family on her 9th birthday.

Aaaahhh. Post marathon, after a cold bath and warm shower and on our way to get food and BEER!!

What an unforgettable experience. Thank you Rod and Julie for the photos and for being part of my awesome support team!!

I DID IT!!!!!

2009-10-06T11:26:00.000-07:00

I ran a marathon, people! A year ago I remember telling someone "I literally can not wrap my brain around how you could run 26 miles." And then, one night over dinner and drinks with friends, I made an announcement that shocked even myself: "I want to run a marathon." The next day, before I came to my senses, I signed up (and paid $90 to register for) the Portland Marathon. I really had no idea if I could (or would) actually do it. At the time I hadn't been running for a couple of years. But I wanted to start again and I needed a goal. A big goal. So I chose the Portland marathon.

My mom wants the blow-by-blow, so here it is.

I was so anxious and grouchy the few days leading up to the marathon. Poor David and Anna got their heads bitten off several times as we packed and got ready for the trip to Portland. Our wonderful friends Rod and Julie joined us there, and we had a great Italian dinner the night before to celebrate Anna's birthday. I was so nervous that I allowed myself one glass of wine with dinner, which was probably not the best idea. I got to bed a couple of hours later than I'd meant to, and when the alarm went off at 5:30 it felt like I hadn't slept at all. I got ready, ate something, drank lots of water and we headed for the starting line. David and Anna and Julie wished me luck and I was off, on my own in a sea of thousands and thousands of marathon participants.

I stood around eves-dropping on people, trying to focus on others instead of my own anxiety. There was one woman near me, she must have been in her late 70 or early 80s, with a sign on her back that said "This is my 42nd marathon! How about you?" Many people were having their photos taken with her and she obviously was in her element. Me? I was terrified.

Finally the race began and we were off. I honestly didn't expect to see my family and friends until the finish line; they were all tired and I fully expected them to go back to bed. I wouldn't have blamed them a bit. But within the first mile or so, I heard my name and there they were, David, Anna, Julie, and somehow, in the 20 minutes or so since they'd dropped me off, they raced back to the condo and got Rod out of bed. It made me feel so loved and supported that I ran the next couple of miles with a grin on my face. I saw them again as we ran back by the same spot; I could see David (thank god I married a very tall man with a propensity for goofy hats; it makes him easy to spot in a crowd); Julie and Anna were so busy looking for me that they didn't notice me until I grabbed Anna and gave her a big hug and a kiss. A few miles later, in an industrial district, they appeared out of nowhere, David offering me a banana and water and a bagel. Again, I had no idea they would be anywhere along the route, but somehow, despite my being "in the zone" I got the feeling that they were there, and they were. Each time it was a wonderful surprise to see them.

All along the route there were people cheering, playing instruments, waving signs, banging cowbells. It's amazing how all that energy really does carry you along. There was a woman dressed, inexplicably, like a blueberry, and she was just cheering everyone on, yelling "You are my heroes!" "You're doing great!" and "You're looking good!" There was another guy, all by himself, standing on the side of the road saying "Good job Kim!" "Looking good Steve!" "Way to go, Jennifer!" "You can do it, Meagan!" I wondered "How does he know all these people??" Then it occurred to me he was reading our names off our bibs. I loved that! Just to know that these people got up at 6:00 in the morning for the sole purpose of cheering on complete strangers as we attempted something we weren't sure we were capable of doing. Also along the way, there were bands playing, so you didn't run more than a mile or two without coming across a group of people playing everything from pan-flutes to punk to jazz and even hand-bells. There was one woman sitting in an otherwise empty parking lot, playing a harp. I was so busy watching the crowds and enjoying the entertainment that it didn't even occur to me to use my IPod until about mile 13. At that point we (I was running alone, but it's a steady stream of people running so it feels like you're part of a group) were headed into a long, boring straight stretch on a fairly busy road with no room for supporters, along-side big old ugly industrial buildings. It was the only part of the entire route without supporters, and it was by far the least interesting to look at. Also? At the end of that stretch was a big-ass hill that we had to climb. So I started listening to podcasts to keep my mind occupied. Thank you, Terry Gross, for getting me through that stretch. I walked up that killer hill (mile 17) as I'd been told to do by many Portland marathon veterans. At the top was the long St. John's bridge across the Willamette river; the view was amazing and I almost cried as I ran across it because at that point, I knew I was going to do it.

At mile 18 or so, I saw my sweet family again; Anna said "Guess what! Your mom is tracking you on-line and she and Davie are talking on the phone about how you are doing. Grandma says you're keeping your pace up!" That made me feel great, to know that my mom, in Boise, was rooting for me too.

Throughout my long training runs, my right knee, foot and hip would begin to really bother me at about mile 14. Every time. So I fully expected to be in serious pain the last 12 miles of the marathon and frankly, I didn't know if I would be able to go that long in the kind of pain I was expecting. Luckily, I didn't notice the pain until about mile 19 or 20. I stopped and did some stretching. By mile 21 or so, I was in pretty much constant pain, but I was mostly able to ignore it. I saw my family one more time, unexpectedly, at about mile 22. I didn't even stop to hug them that time for fear I might not start running again. I smiled weakly and said "I'm fading..." to David. But just then we rounded a corner and it was all downhill, literally, from there. Mile 23 and 24 were brutal; my entire right leg was throbbing and my pelvis felt like it had been stomped on by a rampaging elephant. It became impossible to ignore and I briefly considered walking the last couple of miles, but at that point I just wanted to get the damn thing over with. Also, oddly enough, it hurt less to run than to walk.

The route was a bit weird at the end; you couldn't see the finish line. I knew was was within a mile or so, but didn't know exactly how close. So I just kept my pace until I was fairly certain I was within half a mile or so and then I finished strong. There were people at the end who were in bad shape, barely walking; one teenager had his shoes off and his father was supporting him as he limped across the line.

David, Anna, Rod and Julie were of course there at the finish line, giving me big hugs. I can't even begin to explain the sense of accomplishment I felt when I finished. People who know me know that setting goals and completing tasks is not a strong point of mine. I'm full of brilliant ideas, almost always meant for other people to carry out. So for me to set this goal (back when I literally could not run a mile without having to stop and walk) and to stick with it? I have to say, I am quite proud of myself.

I now know that I am capable of running a marathon. In fact, I'm already planning to run another one in the spring. Despite running off and on most of my life, I've never felt that elusive "runners' high" that they talk about. But now that I've finished my first marathon? I think I understand that the high doesn't come as you're running, but after. Now that's the kind of high I can spend a lifetime chasing.

marathon count down

2009-09-28T09:46:00.000-07:00

SIX DAYS until my first (and quite possibly last) marathon. I haven't written much about my training because, well, "I went out and ran for 3 hours on Saturday morning" just isn't very interesting. But here we are, at the end of the road. It's been an interesting journey. Let's recap, shall we? Some highlights of Marathon Training With Kate:

*Falling off a moving treadmill in front of all the "popular boys" at the gym. I got stuck laying on my side, laughing so hard that I could not get up, the rubber stripping off the top 12 layers of skin on my leg, until the machine decided to spit me off the back. Seven months later, there are still people who were at the gym that day who avoid eye-contact.

*More um, "pit stops" than I care to remember during long runs, including one, out sheer desperation, on the grounds of a church.

*Running into a parked car, in broad daylight, and chipping my front tooth. The good news was that it was just a week prior to my family's "Hillbilly" party, so I held off getting it repaired until after the party. I definately deserved a prize for "most authentic teeth".

*Learning that at about mile 14, my body decides it has had enough of this stupid, monotonous running activity and it rebels in the form of searing knee and hip pain. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to the last 12.2 miles of the marathon.

But despite being the world's biggest quitter (except when it comes to wine and ice-cream consumption), I have stuck with my training and I am going to run a marathon, people! Friends from the coast are coming to Portland to celebrate/act as pall-bearers. There will be a pre-race dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant (aka the Last Meal) and cupcakes for Anna's birthday. There will be pain and suffering and ice-baths. There might be crying. But there will also be pride and accomplishment.

And there will be Guinness. Lots and lots of Guinness.

4 minutes. Watch it.

2009-09-22T10:40:00.001-07:00

It is un-acceptable that the insurance companies take our money, every single month, and then if god-forbid we actually get hurt or sick, they get to decide if they will use our money to pay our medical bills. It is not ok that if we lose our employer-provided health-care and we have, say, arthritis or have been examined for domestic violence, we can be denied insurance (insurance which WE will pay for) based on a "pre-existing condition."

There current system is terribly flawed. American people are suffering and dying, while the insurance executives are buying private islands on our dime. Our President is trying to fix something that is broken. What, exactly, are people protesting against, other than the fact that Obama is for it?

OOooh what a beautiful moooorning, Oooh what a beautiful daaaaay

2009-09-21T08:49:00.000-07:00

Last week we woke up to the most amazing sunrise. The entire sky was this incredible warm, glowy peach color and it had been raining so all the streets and rooftops were shiny. Anna and I went out into the yard in our pajamas and just stared at the sky; it was magical.

coastal living

2009-09-18T10:16:00.000-07:00

I was just having a conversation on Facebook with a friend from Boise, someone I went to high school with. We were talking about the importance of finding like-minded people, no matter where you live. I mentioned our time on the Oregon coast, to which he replied "I would love to live on the Oregon coast. What is the name of the town you lived in, and how may I apply to live there?"

Here is my response:

We lived in Pacific City for 10 years. Charming little drinking village with a fishing problem.

It's easy to live there! Here's how:

*Be independently wealthy, via lottery, trust fund or retirement (or of course you could be a dot.commer who got out in time) and therefore have no need to make a living.
*Work in the service industry which means a) you sell your soul to the devil (ie tourists) and b) you will be so busy that you won't have the time or energy to enjoy that "quality of life" you moved there to enjoy. Might as well sell that surf-board, kayak and camping gear. You won't be using that stuff anymore!
*Oh! And let's not forget: DEVELOPER, which, of course, means you must be independently wealthy AND sell your soul to the devil, but hey, some body's got to get rich building cheesy "beach" houses all over every hillside. Might as well be you, right?

We owned an organic-espresso shop/bookstore overlooking the Pacific, so all the intellectual liberals (all 3 of them!) gathered at our place for coffee and conversation.

If I sound bitter, well, 154 inches of rain annually will do that to a person. When people ask me if I miss it, I burst into hysterical, uncontrollable laughter.

I know, I know, there are people who manage to live and thrive on the coast (Hi Bob! Hi Rod! Hi Greg!) but it takes a special breed of person. A resilient person. A resourceful person. A mentally unstable person. Much like people who can live in Alaska.

Today, as I sit under the eves of our sweet charming house, looking out the skylights at the towering 140 year old Ponderosa pines, the sun is shining, it's in the mid-seventies and you can feel autumn in the air.

I miss my old coastal friends, but they come visit; they come here to dry out and warm up and they marvel at how warm and lovely it is at 10 o'clock at night as we dine outside. They always leave fantasizing about moving here. The grass IS always greener, I guess. Me? I'm perfectly, blissfully happy on THIS side of the fence.

why I love cats

2009-09-14T10:32:00.000-07:00

Since not everyone is as obsessed with Cute Overload the way Anna and I are, here are our two favorite recent videos:

\

Personally, I'm not going to get tired of watching these anytime soon.

Jerry's dead, man.

2009-09-11T09:22:00.001-07:00

Alarming post in today's Police scanner report:

3:56pm: 2 large deadheads spotted of North Idaho College beach.

My only question is, was it the scent of patchouli that gave them away, or were they sharing a pint of Cherry Garcia?

cosmic blunder

2009-09-09T15:24:00.000-07:00

Is 9 too early for adolescence to start? Because I swear I have a teenage girl on my hands. SHE WANTS TO SHAVE HER LEGS, PEOPLE. She has ATTITUDE. More so than usual. I swear she rolled her eyes at me this morning as we both faught for mirror space in the bathroom.

Thanks to the great "cosmic blunder" brought about by my waiting until the age of 36 to give birth, I figure Anna's puberty and my menopause will converge with all the spectacular spark-throwing, sulfer-stench of two planets colliding.

Poor, poor David. Dude is going to be in the midst of a shit-storm of hormones here in about 3 years, and it's not going to be pretty.

::LaBoata::

2009-09-08T08:47:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, as Christina and the girls and I sat on the front porch, this...this....BOAT drove by. We all had the exact same reaction "There goes a a boat". And then "WTF??!!" And Christina and I literally shrieked with laughter. I so badly wanted him to come back by and give us all a ride. And of course I'd wished I'd had my camera, although it happened so fast we all wondered if we'd hallucinated it. Then today I saw this picture on our local news website:

Here's the story of the boat called "LaBoata". The creater/skipper is the father of 6 kids. He wants to use his boat to ferry (har har) them to the prom. And I thought it was embarrassing when my dad wore slippers in public...

::dumb ass of the year award::

2009-09-02T09:24:00.000-07:00

goes to: the couple who decided to ignore evacuation orders issued to escape the out-of-control wildfire raging toward their home north of Los Angeles. They thought they could "ride it out" IN THEIR HOT TUB.

I wonder if they remembered to throw in some diced potatoes and herbs.

::first day of school 3rd grade::

2009-08-31T10:53:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I didn't die running 20 miles, BUT I WANTED TO.

Anna started school last Thursday, but because I am lame I forgot to take a picture of her on her first day. So this is actually the 3rd day of school. Whatever. Here she is, in all her almost-9-year-old glory. I decided that our new tradition will be to take her first-day photo standing next to our baby crab-apple tree. That way we can see how she and the tree both change and grow. Right now both are kind of puny.

Please ignore our lack of landscaping. By this time next year, it will be a different story.

Our daughter has big feet, have I mentioned this? Actually, those are David's "bunny boots". I don't know why they are called that but apparently if you live in Alaska you need these or your feet will fall off. Anna thinks they are awesome. Next year they will fit her, I am certain of it. Right now she is wearing a women's size seven and a half shoe.

Anna, Skylar and Piper. My three favorite girls in the world.

In other news, my husband is finally home after being in Boston for a week. He brought me a box of pastries, carrying them across the country. I think he likes me. And I know I like him. Cannoli or no cannoli.

I just want you all to know that I love you

2009-08-27T15:27:00.001-07:00

I am so going to get my ass kicked this weekend. I have to run 20 miles. TWENTY MILES people. That's like, from one town to another. And I am not prepared. My week-day runs have been nearly non-existant because, well, in the morning it's too dark....at noon it's too hot...after work I'm too tired/hungry/lazy. You see where I'm going with this...I'm going to DIIIIEEEEE!!

::how I know I'm getting old::

2009-08-25T08:33:00.000-07:00

* I make my child go to bed at 8:00 so that I can too. Yes, even in summer.

* I recently stepped into an Abercrombie & Fitch store while looking for school clothes for Anna; I didn't make it 20 feet into the store before I had to turn around and leave due to the overwhelming stench of perfume (WTF, A & F??) that they are pumping into their store. Also? Even I am sort of appalled by the near-naked men wallpapering that entire store. And it's almost impossible to embarrass me.

And the big one? When did trying on jeans become as mortifying and ego-deflating as trying on swimming suits? Really...when did that happen?? I feel like every pair of jeans I try on make me look like I'm trying to pass for an 18 year old, or they look hopelessly like mom-jeans. Aren't there jeans that look age-appropriate and yet still hip for women in their 40s and up? Perhaps my problem is that I refuse to pay $180 for jeans. Hell, even Levis make a $238 jean. For $238, those pants better lift my butt 5 inches, make my legs look 10 miles long and disguise any evidence that I ever carried a 9 pound child. And maybe that's exactly what $238 Levis do. Hmmmm.....

::anna::

2009-08-19T15:24:00.000-07:00

I don't know if I've mentioned it lately, but my kid is adorable. I was going through some of the old pictures on my computer, and thought I'd share some of my favorite Anna photos.

The summer she was 2 1/2, one of our favorite books was called "Pete's a Pizza", about a little boy is is bored because it's raining and he can't go outside to play. So his dad pretends to make him into a pizza, elaborately spreading on the sauce, sprinkling on the cheese (lots of sound effects are required), adding toppings and finally, scooping him up to put him in the "oven" (the couch) to cook. Anna loooved to recreate that book; here she is a "tomato and banana" pizza.

This was shortly after we moved to Spokane, so she was 3 or 4. She'd finally (after waiting her WHOLE LIFE) gotten her own kitty. This was Maple's "sleeping bag". I love that she has a tattoo on her little arm. Look at that face, would you??

She and her dad were having a water fight. I love the light and shadow on this one. Also, it's probably the only time in my adult life I've actually had lovely green grass. It didn't last long.

Swinging. Pure joy...

A couple of summers ago my sister got married on the Oregon coast and someone had a kite. I just think this one is so pretty.

I have a whole series of these, somewhere. We'd found this old horse outside a grocery store; it doesn't even accept a quarter, you just push the button and it goes. And goes. She started doing all these hilarious "riding tricks", turning around in the saddle, riding backwards, sideways, on the tail....I was laughing so hard. I wish I had a video of it. Some sweet old man stopped to watch and said to me "That just made my day."

I just don't even know what to say about this, other than it makes me laugh every time I see it.

I love this series; it so shows her personality. She was showing off her new "cowgirl pants" and cowboy boots. This was right before she entered first grade, the summer of "Lice-a-Palooza", of which we shall not speak. However, it did result in the cutest haircut she's ever had, which I did myself one evening after a couple of glasses of wine and approximately 38 hours with the nit-comb. Anyway, cute, huh??

This was taken on the first day of school last year, 2nd grade. The look on her face is her "I want something and you're going to give it to me" look. What?! Could YOU say no to this face?

And this, my favorite picture ever. Look at those eyes....and that little smirk/half smile? Straight from her daddy.

I hope you've enjoyed my stroll down memory lane. I sure can't imagine my life without this kiddo.

:: mama bear::

2009-08-18T08:26:00.000-07:00

We haven't had a good rant around here for awhile now. It's been at least a week or two since anyone has pissed me off, and that just won't do, now will it?

First off, let me say that I am a hiker. I looove to be out in the forest, up in the trees, communing with nature. So I'm not bashing hikers, just dumb ones who report "problem bears" in remote, wild areas.

This morning on the local public radio, I heard a story about how the rangers at Glacier National Park are "going to have to shoot and kill" a 17 year old grizzly sow. Has she eaten anyone? No. Has she been going into campgrounds and tearing apart camp sites? No. Has she been terrorizing a neighborhood and getting into trash cans? Nope.

Her only offense is that she is not afraid of people. People who hike far into the back-country of one of the most wild places in the world. People who set up their tents in the midst of a gigantic huckleberry patch. What do wild bears eat this time of year, as they prepare to go into hibernation? That's right, huckleberries. So because hikers go into this bear's "kitchen" so to speak, and she doesn't run in fear, she is going to be shot. The interactions have never resulted in any confrontations, let alone injury. The "incidents" have ALL taken place 7-10 miles from the nearest campground or paved road.

This infuriates me. I'm all for people being able to go into the back-country and have their experience, but if there is a problem with a WILD ANIMAL in that animal's habitat, shouldn't the people be controlled, and not the animal? After all, the people have a choice about going into the back-country. The bear does not.

I feel the same way about people who build their dream homes "out in the country" and then, when a mountain lion or a wolf eats little FiFi, they want the Fish & Game to come trap the "offender" and remove it or worse, kill it. If you don't want interactions with wildlife, don't build your house outside the city! Because that's where the animals live, people!

Where is the common sense here? Why do we believe that we are entitled to haul our sleeping bags, food and trash into these wild places, that it is ALL our domain? That we should be able to have our wilderness experience, but without all those pesky wild animals?

It's all about risk. If you are willing to take the risk of going into those remote, wild places, then you must accept the consequences WITHOUT COMPLAINT. It's called "survival of the fittest", and if you get mauled or eaten by a bear, well then, you were someplace you weren't supposed to be, now weren't you?

RRRAAAWWWWRRR!!!

What do you think about this? Should people take precedence over wild animals? Do we have a "right" to wander safely through the wildnerness without any risk?

**UPDATE: The grizzly sow was shot and killed today, about an hour or so ago, as she approached a back-country campground.

She had two cubs with her. One of the cubs died after being shot by a tranquilzer gun; the other is being sent to the Bronx Zoo. They should have just shot him too.

Fuck.

::weekend::

2009-08-17T10:08:00.000-07:00

It's beginning to feel like fall in these parts, and I like it. We had a nice, quiet weekend.

We tortured poor Rootbeer:

"I disapprove of this!"

....I sewed some new pillows for our couch in the TV room...David does not share my love of kitsch, but I figured with the deer on here, he'd be ok with them. I can tell he prefers the old, fugly, brown ones, but what does he know? The only thing he has good taste in in dogs and women.

...envelope back...

...we went for a lovely bike-ride on Sunday...

...oh, and I ran 18 miles and lived to tell about it!

Hope you are enjoying the last few weekends of summer. I can not believe school starts in a week and a half.

::child abuse::

2009-08-16T18:59:00.000-07:00

Anna: "Mom, did you know that some people have skunks as pets??"

Me: "I think I did know that."

Anna: "Yeah, you can have their stinkers removed."

Me: "I've tried to have my stinker removed, but she keeps finding her way back home."

Life lesson from a 7 year old

2009-08-11T18:14:00.000-07:00

When Anna was in first grade, at a new school, I went to pick her up one day. Her friends Annie and Sydney were coming over for a play date, so we all met up outside Anna's classroom. As we walked toward the car, Anna started telling me how this girl, Sarah, had punched her at recess. Punched my baby. I have never even spanked my child, and believe me, there were a few times where it took every ounce of super-human strength I had not to swat her butt, just for the instant-gratification it might have given me. By "a few times" I mean basically her ENTIRE THIRD YEAR on this planet.

Anyway, Anna is telling me about this girl punching her and Annie and Sydney are chiming in saying "Yeah, Sarah is really mean! And she never gets in trouble for it."
By now we're in the car; I'm clucking and offering sympathy when all of a sudden, they all three yell "There she is! That's the girl!" Foolishly, I say "Anna, do you want me to say something to her?" and all three of them are shouting "Yes! Go get her! Let her have it!" And because I am essentially a 7 year old myself, I pull the car over right next to the curb where the unsuspecting bully is minding her own business, walking home from school with her older brother. I walk up to her, bend down to her level (both literally and figuratively, I'm afraid) and say "Hi. My name is Kate. I'm Anna R's mom. I hear you hit her today." She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide. "I don't want you to ever hit her, or anybody else, ever again. You got it?" She nodded silently. "Good" I said and strode, triumphantly, back to the car to the cheers and disbelief the girls.

Oh yes. I did.

Of course I am duly mortified now, because in hindsight I realize that that day? My daughter was not bruised or bleeding. If she had been punched there would have been physical damage, right? And no teacher is going to let that behavior go unpunished. Most likely it was a typical playground shove is all. And so every time I've seen that little girl in the two years since, I am ashamed of myself. Far more, I'm sure, than she ever was about having decked (or pushed) my daughter.

The thing is, this girl is wonderfully unique: she has super short hair and she wears nothing but baggy shorts and football jerseys. I am certain she will grow up to be, at minimum, a bull-dyke and possibly even transgendered. So of course, being the rebel-without-a-cause that I am, I want Anna to be friends with her. But I've always felt guilty that I ruined the chances of that the day I confronted her on that sidewalk.

And then today, I got a phone call from an unfamiliar number.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Um....do you have a kid named Anna?" she asked, in her Tatum O'Neal-in-Paper Moon voice.

"Yes.....?"

"This is Sarah (last name omitted to protect the innocent). I was wondering if she could come over and play on my new slip 'n' slide today."

Anna wasn't available to play because she was at her grandma's house in the valley, but as I write this? I am seriously considering putting on my swimming suit and showing up on Sarah's doorstep with a football under one arm to ask if I can play on that slip 'n' slide with her. Because apparently she either forgot or forgave my actions that day.

And out of gratitude, I promise to never be one of those moms again.

grumpy mcgrumperton

2009-08-05T14:59:00.000-07:00

I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been particularly snarly the past few days. I'm feeling very much like a certain hairy, green muppet-monster. Just stay the hell away from my trash can.

This kid, however, is a pretty good reminder of all that is good in the world. She came out onto the porch the other night, laughing her head off and said "Your new shaving cream sure smells good!"

And last week I brought her to work with me one day. She LOVES to come to work with me, I do not know why, but she has been asking to do so for months now. So while I pretended to work, she entertained herself. This is one of the things she left behind for me to put up on my office wall, renderings of some of the many, many nicknames I have given her over the years:

Love Bug, Cutie Pie, Sweetie Pie, Boo Boo (that's a bleeding wound, in case you wondered), Peanut, Pumpkin and of course, Snickle-Fritz Picklepants.

She also answers to Boo, Boosker, Booger, Peanutbutter, Nanner, Bug, Little Pink Devil, Trouble and Punkin-butt. Poor kid didn't even know her real name until she started elementary school.

Tonight, while my husband is in Leavenworth without me, enjoying Basil Margaritas and probably even secretly sneaking off to see Sound of Music, Anna and I are going to rent the movie "Big", because she has never seen it. We'll cuddle up in the big bed with ice cream and the dogs.

Hopefully my mood will improve so that I don't end up with an unfortunate nickname myself.

Um, WHY??? (or, how to irritate the beejeezus out of me, part 2)

2009-08-04T11:33:00.000-07:00

Warren Jeffs, convicted child molester and former leader of the FLDS cult (er, religious group) is being "force-fed" to keep him alive.

http://www.ktvb.com/news/regional/stories/ktvba-aug0409-jeffs.a9c32910.html

how to irritate the beejeezus out of me

2009-08-04T08:52:00.000-07:00

First, do your weekly grocery shopping at 7:00 in the morning on a week day (also known as a work day for some people.) Fill your cart to the brim with potato chips, case upon case of Diet Pepsi products, and loads of pre-packaged food-like substances.

Second, as you are moving, sloth-like, toward the checkout line and you see someone coming toward you, someone who is obviously dressed for work (as opposed to your un-showered, sweats-wearing self), someone who appears to be in a hurry with just 2 items in her hands, see that as challenge to move faster than you have all week in order to get in line ahead of said working person with TWO FUCKING THINGS IN HER HANDS.

ahem.

::santa cruz::

2009-07-28T10:01:00.000-07:00

David and I spent last weekend in Santa Cruz; the trip was his birthday celebration. David has traveled all over the world and seen every kind of music, but he hadn't seen his favorite female singer, Gillian Welch. So when he turned 50 back in May, I told him that we were going to go see her, somewhere, this summer. When she announced her tour dates, we jumped on tickets to see her in Santa Cruz as neither of us had been there and it seemed like a cool little town to stay for the weekend.

I have never seen so many cruisers in my life. I was in heaven. But none even came close to being as cool/cute as mine.

We stayed at a brand new place called the Pacific Blue Inn; it was fabulous. It is a "green" hotel, meaning they built it using recycled/re purposed building supplies, low-VOC paint, bamboo flooring and they use non-toxic cleaning products. It is a beautiful little inn (just 6 rooms) and the decor is simple and lovely. They served fantastic breakfast and brought us a bottle of wine to enjoy at our little patio table and the manager was helpful and charming. It is also within walking distance of the beach and all the cafes and shops downtown. If you're going to Santa Cruz, this is the place to stay.

The concert was fantastic; just Gillian and her partner David Rawlings with their guitars. They played almost all our favorite songs plus at least 4 new ones. The venue has been around forever and hasn't seen a fresh coat of paint nor a mop since at least the 70s, but we had a great spot from which to see them and met a great couple from NY who had lived in SC for 20 years.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

We totally enjoyed the downtown area, which reminded me of Eugene: skateboarders, lots of dreadlocks, street musicians, aging hippies riding bikes and people of every color. It has a great feel to it and we spent hours wandering in and out of the cool little shops. There were actual RECORD STORES on every block; we had just been talking about how record stores are pretty much a thing of the past. As you wander along, you smell pot, patchouli, and food of every ethnicity. I miss college towns.

aaaaaaaaaaaa
The next day we spent some time at the beach in Santa Cruz. There is a boardwalk there that is supposed to be the "Cony Island of the West"; I found it dirty, extremely cheesy and depressing as hell. I was itching to get away from the hoards of tourists, so we took a drive up the coast to a beautiful little beach near Davenport. It was nice to get out of town and cruise up Highway 1.

We also went up to the University of California Santa Cruz and we've decided where Anna is going to college. It doesn't matter what she wants to study or where she wants to go. This is the place. It sits high on a hill overlooking the Pacific and is unlike any campus either of us had ever seen; it feels like a big hill-top ranch that is owned by an eccentric artist or Jerry Garcia. There are big open fields overlooking the ocean, groves of redwoods and buildings with views like this:

This mural is on the side of one of the buildings. Why there is a mural of naked mermaid woman with a baby in her womb, I don't know. Perhaps if I were as stoned as the artist probably was, I wouldn't need to ask why.

I had to take photos of all the amazing succulents; they grow everywhere there and are bigger than my head.

We decided that when we win the lottery, we will buy a little beach cottage in Santa Cruz. We will ride our cruisers to the beach where we will lay in the sun listening to the waves and sea-lions and then have dinner at a little open-air cafe that serves Mexican beer and Thai food.

Santa Cruz, we'll be back.

::neighbor::

2009-07-22T08:31:00.000-07:00

I usually hear her before I see her.

As I sit on the front porch, I hear the wheels of her walker scraping along the road. She is out there, walking, in the rain, the snow, the hot hot sun of summer. Always by herself. She circles our block once, sometimes twice every day. And she always, always has the most beautiful smile on her face.

She lives on the block behind us, in an immaculate little white house with pink shutters protected by tall Ponderosa pines. She is, I found out, 99 years old.

I think about her as I run, when it feels hard and I would rather be somewhere else, doing anything other than running. I think about her and how happy she is just to be outside, to be walking. To be ABLE to walk. It makes me run faster.

I am working up the courage to talk to her. To maybe walk beside her for awhile, to ask her about her life. I'm sure it's been full of joys, surprises, sorrows and grief. I want to tell her thank you for reminding me that I am lucky to be healthy and able to walk, to run, to jump and play and that I should do so, every day. Thank you for your beautiful smile that reminds me that life? Is good.

::failed, part 2::

2009-07-21T15:24:00.000-07:00

(to read part 1, click here)

As I stand near the door, paralyzed, David leads the firemen into the room where my niece is staying. She is laying on the couch, her eyes almost completely closed, with her phone up to her ear. As the firemen begin to ask her questions, I take the phone. On the other end, her friend is frantic, worried. I tell her that I am A's aunt, that help has arrived, and thank her for calling 911. A. is completely limp, mumbling almost inaudible answers to their questions. She looks at me groggily and mouths "I'm sorry."

My niece, after our argument, sent text messages to her friends, telling them good-bye and that she loved them. This friend, in Boise, called back and asked what that meant; A. explained that she had just taken all of her sleeping pills. The friend had the presence of mind to keep A. on the phone while asking her what my last name was and for our address was in Spokane. A. didn't know if I'd changed my name after I re-married last year, nor did she know my address. The friend somehow convinced A. to get up and look around the room to find something with my address on it. Thankfully, Anna had re purposed one of my amazon.com boxes as a bunny condo; A. found the address there. Her friend gave the address to her mother, who called 911 while she stayed on the phone. It makes me sick to think that all of this was happening while I was standing on the back deck, talking to David. If the friend hadn't called A. and then called 911, I would have assumed my niece had simply gone to bed and I wouldn't have checked on her until the morning. This friend literally saved my niece's life.

Soon the paramedics arrived and it was all a blurr from there. David was amazingly calm and focused; he and a paramedic took the two bottles and determined how many pills had been left based on the prescription date. I was asked if she had intended to hurt herself; it seemed like a foolish question given that she'd just swallowed approximately 12-15 sleeping pills. I was informed that because she had tried to hurt herself, they would have to do a psychiatric evaluation. That actually came as a huge relief; I knew that she needed help, real help, not just anti-depressants.

In the emergency room, nurses and doctors rushed in to get her hooked up to machines to track her vitals. The nurses were so cold and treated her like she was a slab of meat. It made me sick. She was forced to drink liquid charcoal to absorb the pills she had taken. It was nasty black sludge, that ended up around her mouth and splattered on her hands and pillow. I began the series of phone calls to her parents, my mom and other sister. I never in a million years thought I'd be calling her mother to tell her that her daughter had just tried to kill herself on my watch.

As David and I waited, she gradually began to become more lucid. I sent David home knowing that it was going to be a long night. I sat with her for almost 5 hours, rubbing her back, stroking her hair, telling her how much I love her and that if anything had happened to her, I would never forgive myself. We talked, a lot, about everything that had happened. She asked what the black stuff was on her hands. We talked some more. She asked what the black stuff was on her hands. She closed her eyes for a bit, woke up and asked what the black stuff was on her hands. It began to get funny; I would explain in detail that it was the stuff she'd had to drink to absorb the pills. She'd say "Oh" and then not 2 minutes later, she'd ask again. By then we were laughing and teasing each other; I'm sure the nurses thought we were crazy. But it was all just so fucking absurd and surreal. Finally, after almost 4 hours, the "psychiatric triage" doctor or nurse came in; he was a huge bald black guy with a gorgeous smile and a calm demeanor. He asked her a lot of questions, ending with "So tell me what your dreams are." She said that she wanted to go live in Japan. He said "I lived in Japan for 4 years!" and they began speaking Japanese to each other. It was very sweet and she LOVED that he could speak Japanese too. When she'd arrived in Spokane for her visit, she'd said that one of her goals for the week was to get to practice her Japanese. I teased her that this was a pretty desperate measure to take.

He recommended, based on what she'd shared with him, that she be admitted to the psychiatric ward for evaluation. I said that we needed to get her home to Boise, closer to her family and the friends that are so important to her. There is a hospital there that we had already looked into for her. We all knew that if "Camp Kate" failed, that was the next step.

I still can not wrap my brain around the turn of events and if I think about it much, I cry. I am so grateful that her friends handled the situation with the determination that they did; they literally saved her life.

She spent the weekend in the hospital in Boise; they changed her medication but accomplished nothing else. She shared a room with a woman in her 60s who cried all night, and the group therapy sessions were populated mostly by ex-convicts and drug addicts. That was not the place for her. She is back in the care of her father, with my sister and mom checking in on her regularly. The search continues for a place for her that is for young adults who are struggling with emotional and psychiatric challenges. She is such a bright, shining star, with so much talent and a beautiful, loving, forgiving heart. I just so badly want her to be happy and healthy.

Help. If you have any ideas, please share them. We are at a loss, but we will NOT give up.

::failed::

2009-07-20T09:24:00.001-07:00

It's almost laughable to read my last post, given the turn of events at the end of last week.

I can not believe how naively optimistic I was about my ability to help my sweet, troubled twenty-year-old niece. I thought it would do her good to spend a week with us in the "sunshine house"; if I could just get her to eat enough and rest enough and to get outside her own mind....if I just loved her enough I could "fix" her.

It so did not turn out that way.

The week got off to a rough start. Part of her problem is that she hasn't been sleeping properly. She has, for years, had no regular sleep schedule at all: she would stay up for days on end, on the computer or playing video games, and then eventually give in to her exhaustion and sleep for 20 hours at a time. Her body did not recognize day or night, so it was, of course, impossible to go to school or to keep a job. Her doctor had, just a few days prior to her visit, given her Ambien to help her sleep. The first night with us, she took one for the first time and, a few hours after David and I had gone to bed, we heard my niece stumbling around downstairs. The drug was causing her to hallucinate and she was completely out of it. She's tried to come find me and had ended up in the shower stall, tripping her brains out. I got her back in bed and lay with her, spooning her and rubbing her back, answering questions and talking calmly with her until finally she fell asleep. I stumbled back to bed myself and got up a few hours later to go to work. When I got home that evening, at almost 6pm, she was still in bed. She got up when I got home and said she'd woken up off and on during the day but had been "afraid" to get up. Why, I asked. "I don't know. I just know that I felt afraid."

The next several days also did not go as we'd hoped. She had, just before leaving Boise to come up here for 10 days, run out of her Paxil (an anti-depressant). It hadn't occurred to her to get the prescription filled, even though her father specifically asked her, two days prior to leaving, if she had enough to get her through the week. She didn't realize, she said, that she'd only had two pills left at that time. So the second day of her visit I frantically made phone calls to get her prescription filled at a pharmacy near our house in Spokane. For 3 days she could not manage to walk the two blocks to get the pills. Finally, on Wednesday, she walked to the store. Once there, she called me and said "Do you ever think that people are talking about you? Because I was just at the store and I think everyone was looking at me and whispering about me." "Well, honey," I said, "That might be because you've gone a few days without your pills. Now that you have them, you'll start to feel better." "Oh," she said. "I forgot to get my pills. I got to the store and I looked around and I bought some snacks and a sketchbook...but I forgot my pills." Breathe in....breathe out...stay calm.... "Ok, well, go back in there and get your pills. You really need them, sweetie." AAAarrrgggghhh.

During the days I was at work, I'd arranged for her to spend time with Anna and Anna's nanny (who is close to my niece's age and a total sweetheart.) My niece had been so excited about the plans: to go to Silverwood and then, the next day, to go to Cat Tails (she has always been obsessed with tigers, and this is an entire zoo for tigers.) Both days she backed out, at the last minute; the first day because she was having anxiety attacks, and then the next day, an hour before they were to leave, she called and told me she didn't want to go because she had "heartburn". Both days she made Anna and Chandra wait around for hours before deciding she just couldn't go. Both days I had to console Anna, who has been waiting for months for my niece's visit.

I was getting very frustrated. During this time period, my niece would text me several times throughout the day, with messages saying "I don't feel good." "My stomach hurts." "I'm scared." "I just heard a strange noise." To be honest, I felt like she was being melodramatic and that she needed to just "buck up." I was ready to strangle her.

By Thursday, it all came to a head. She had told David she wanted to go with him to the gym after work. I hadn't received a single text from her all day, which I took as a good sign. Then, just as I was leaving work, she sent me a text that she "didn't feel good". I didn't even reply. I spent the hour drive home from work feeling helpless, pissed and manipulated as hell. By the time I got home, David had convinced her to go, but she was moping around and I could tell she wanted me to get her out of it. I didn't. Except for the brief walk to the store, she had not left the house since she'd arrived 5 days prior.

I was at the end of my rope, and I'd asked David to talk to her. David is a very, very calm, fair and gentle person. He really should be a therapist. So he was going to share some of his personal experiences with her and urge her to force herself outside her "comfort zone" in order to be more engaged in life.

By the time they got home, I had been brooding for an hour or so, and she, apparently had already had enough of being "lectured" about having to make an effort if she is going to achieve the things she wants to in life. She sat down across from me on the porch, and I started in on her, saying "Honey, we'd agreed that you were going to come up here to try new things. You agreed that you needed and WANTED to have new experiences. And yet you haven't done anything other than exactly what you do at home: sleep all day, spend your time on the computer in a dark room....and every time an opportunity arises to go do something, you come up with an excuse not to do it." She glared at me and said "I didn't want to be left alone all day!" That pissed me off, because I had arranged for several things for her to do that I knew she would love. And I'd been very clear, before she came, about the fact that I would be at work many of the days she was here. The argument escalated from there, both of us frustrated by the way things were turning out. I thought she wasn't trying hard enough to get out of her comfort zone and she thought I was "dumping" her on Anna and Chandra. She didn't WANT to spend time with Anna, she said. She wanted me to herself. Well, that touched a nerve, my lioness-mother nerve. "I can't just make Anna disappear for a week so that you can have me to yourself! She lives here. You know that. Anna is my daughter. Do not make me choose between the two of you!" With that she stomped off to her room, slamming the door. I needed to cool down, so I put on my shoes and went for a walk. I thought about how maybe our upcoming trip to Leavenworth would help, that maybe getting outside, in the fresh mountain air would do us BOTH good.

I was gone only about 20 minutes. When I came back, I stopped to talk to David briefly, trying to get back to a place of feeling compassion for her. As we were talking about where to go from here, the doorbell rang. David and I gave each other an "Are you expecting someone?" look.

When I opened the door, I saw 4 firemen standing on our front porch, their gigantic red truck idling directly in front of our house.

"We got a phone call that someone at this address has taken an overdose of sleeping pills".

to be continued....

aaaah, summer

2009-07-16T13:59:00.000-07:00

I promise I'll have stories and photos early next week.

My niece is here this week, visiting from Boise. Tomorrow we are going out to see my friend Jane Cantwell, who runs Birds of Prey Northwest. Janie does amazing work rehabilitating injured raptors who come to her from all over the area. One of her most amazing challenges has been Beauty, a bald eagle who had her beak shot off (!) and was found in Alaska, malneurished and on the verge of death. Janie happened to be up there (on vacation, if I remember correctly) and heard about Beauty, who was at that time being cared for but still struggling. Jane brought Beauty home and has worked tirelessly to not only bring Beauty back to health, but she found an engineer to build a new titaneum beak for Beauty. To read the whole amazing story, click here. There's a Pay Pal link, if you are interested in/able to donate to the cause. Jane's work is completely privately funded so every little bit helps. I'm really excited to take Andrea and Anna out to Jane's property; it's always an unforgettable experience.

The next day we're going over to Leavenworth; Andrea has never been and it is, of course, one of my favorite places! It's going to be a gorgeous, fun-filled weekend.

Happy weekend to you!
xo