::My new craft obsession::

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.

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::

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::

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::

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

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*

(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!