::Moab::

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

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!

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

I saw you:

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

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

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.