Family of Five

Absent-Mindedness

2011-01-12T18:40:00.005-06:00

There's been a lot of absent-mindedness going around our house. A lot of comments such as:

"Has anyone seen my phone?"

"Did you put my markers somewhere?"

"Where's my purse?"

"Man, where are my keys now..."

But the kicker was this afternoon when I got home from school and looked in the pantry. There, among the cereal containers, was a jug of milk. I reached in, felt the outside of the container, deduced it had been there for a while, and smiled as I poured the contents of the container down the drain - happy that, for once, it wasn't me being so absent minded.

All About Reading

2011-01-11T21:36:00.001-06:00

Where two or more are gathered reading is what I call a wonderful sight. It has been happening more and more often at our house since we "drastically reduced our cable TV package"* last summer. But for the first time ever, I walked into the family room with a book and had no place to sit - all the cozy places were taken and the only place left was the chair at the desk. I took that as a sign that I was meant to post a blog entry tonight...or maybe it gave me a chance to procrastinate from reading my Introduction to Learning Disabilities textbook. Take your pick.

Whatever the case, my challenge to all of you is to grab a friend, grab a book, and find somewhere cozy for the two of you to read... if only for 15 minutes. I'll be right with you - opening my textbook up to chapter one and getting started on a new semester. Enjoy!

*Dave's words... not mine

Grateful

2011-01-11T20:51:00.005-06:00

A few months ago I wrote a blog entry about needing a break - and feeling like there wasn't one anywhere in sight. But you know what, I reread that entry tonight and thought about all that has happened and realized I'm actually very, very lucky. You see, I may not be at the spot where I thought I would be a year ago - and it still may not be the best spot to be in... but it is a spot right here in this universe and I occupy it.

I occupy it with Dave and our three kids - all who have shown nothing but resilency over the past six months. During this time we've all found it hard to understand Dave's actions - but we've been strengthened by his attitude, his honesty and his sense of responsibility for what he did. The kids have shown anger and disappointment - but they've also shown such a deep sense of caring for him, me and one another. It's been a light in this tunnel.

I occupy the space with the spirit of Roberta, Dave's sister. She died in November after a brilliant fight with leukemia and was there for her children and family in a way that I can only hope to emulate. Throughout her own deep struggles, she spoke with Dave on an almost daily basis. When she was first diagnosed, it was Dave calling Roberta and helping her laugh but during her last few months, she showed empathy and compassion for his struggles in a way that only a big sister can do.

I occupy the space with my family - they have supported us in such a marvelous way. Each in their own way, in their own style - but all with caring and grace. Thank you for loving me (and all of us).

I occupy the space with our friends and friends of friends - all those who came over when we were getting the houses ready for sale - some armed with ladders, plaster, boxes, paintbrushes, cleaning supplies, cameras - and some armed with skills of organization, staging, and creativity. If you ever need to get two houses ready for sale in less than a week - I know just the team to do it. (The head of which would be a lady named Theresa.) There are people still helping in so many ways - and I'm so thankful for them. And then there's those few that I call upon to just hear me out and let me cry - not try to fix anything, not telling me that things could be worse, but just listening until I'm done with that particular outburst and am ready to move on.

I occupy the space with an acquaintance named Jeanne who has troubles of her own yet found the time and energy to support me. I often came home from work or the job hunt to find a cup of coffee, a monster chocolate bar or gift card to the grocery store. I like to call her my "angel" - so unselfish and giving.

I occupy the space with our priests - and priest-to-be. We are basically of two parishes but our priests have all helped us get through this time. I've so enjoyed our time with them - sharing, praying, reading from the Bible, playing Farkle, and eating blueberry cobbler or chicken dumplings.

And I occupy the space with my SPED people - my coworkers, my supervisors, and my professors. They have welcomed me in so many wonderful ways - with their smiles, their humor, their "let's get it done" attitude, and of course, with caramel rolls and treats. My special ed team really has got to be one of the bests - they listen, they laugh, and even, occassionally roll their eyes at me. (Which I do take as a compliment.) Some days I feel like I have my own IEP and they all have a role in carrying it out - they are THAT good to me.

Every day poses its own set of challenges - but it also poses new opportunities. Hasn't somebody said that before??!?! In thinking about this and writing, I find I am supported and am so very thankful.

School and More School

2010-11-22T20:02:00.005-06:00

Did I mention that I was inside studying yesterday as the children played in the snow and Dave hottubbed with neighbor? Oh, I did mention that - really? Well, if you're up for a pity party, keep reading. If you'd rather forgo my self indulgence, feel free to skip to another blog. I really don't mind. But here goes...

My transcript, if I must say so myself, is a bit full. It starts with a Bachelors of Education Degree in Elementary Education/Special Education, then has a Masters of Science in Education, and a Ph.D. in Teaching and Learning. Last year I tacked on another 15 credits for a Librarian's Credential and this year I am adding more classes in Special Education. And that's not counting any credits provided by the Red River Valley Writing Project or numerous other professional development classes I've taken.

So why am I taking Special Education classes you ask? In all honesty, I find myself asking that same questions over and over again lately. I'm all about learning more - and that's certainly what I've been doing this fall. Yet I'm a bit fed up with my transript and all my education and my teaching license. It all started 22 years ago when I was student teaching in Elementary and Special Education. That semester I discovered I could graduate early with an Elementary Education Degree. I had one class left to finish my Special Education Degree and knew I could take it by correspondence. So, I graduated in December, moved to Minneapolis in January, finished the class by May, and got my first teaching job in Farmington, MN in June. It all worked out perfectly. My MN teaching license showed I had special education so I didn't think I needed to do anything else for that part of my teaching license. Fast forward to 2010 and my frantic job search in late July/early August. I was offered a job as a special educator but my teaching license didn't show a special education endorsement. In essence, because I didn't go back and check on my college degree after finishing the correspondence class, I now have five, perhaps six, graduate classes I need to take. Each to the tune of about $1,000. Compare that to my undergraduate degree where I could take 21 credits for $650.00. This was a pretty costly mistake. The good news about it is that I was still able to accept the job and am enjoying it. I am remembering what it was about special education I loved - the kids, the kids, the kids.

Now I realize with No Child Left Behind and the fact I actually never taught in special education, I would probably have needed to take some classes. It's just that for once in my life, I am not excited about taking classes. In fact, I'm a bit resentful. Not at the institution, not at the professors, not at the classes themselves - just at life. I'm feeling the need for a little bit of a break. Any time now would be just fine... any time.

P.S. As I posted this entry to check for formatting, up came a pop-up window - for a graduate degree at one of those online universities. I about screamed.

Nine-Year-Old Ingenuity

2010-11-21T22:25:00.006-06:00

After the kids came in from the snow they immediately covered the back hall and kitchen radiators with their wet clothing. I was in the dining room studying and came out to see hats and mittens sticking out of the radiator spines - which was new to me. But the best ingenuity came from John in the form of the "pen holding up snowpants right by the radiator." Pretty clever, but best of all - dry snow pants!

1st Snow - 2010

2010-11-21T22:12:00.006-06:00

To John and Lucy's delight, we finally got some snow on the ground. They spent most of the afternoon outside and even ventured to the sledding hill for a bit of snow/grass sledding. I spent most of the day inside studying (Woe is Me) while Dave sat in Neighbor Jim's hottub and watched some football. A nice Sunday - what a nice Sunday.

Mama is a Cheerleader

2010-11-20T07:39:00.002-06:00

I was a cheerleader for one season - and was never really good at it. In fact, I was probably one of the most unenthusiastic cheerleaders there ever was. I found it all to be embarassing - the standing in front of the crowd, the awkward yelling, and the forced jumps and high kicks. It just wasn't me - and I was so happy to have that 7th grade boys basketball season over with. After that season I became one of the stats for the team - and found the sideline work much more comfortable.

Yet, I'm sure my kids would say I'm a big cheerleader. They, in fact, are often embarassed by my cheerleading efforts whether it's telling a dancer "Great Job" after a ballet recital or yelling for all the little ones running in a summer track meet (pictured above). But what I love about cheering or congratulating someone on a job well done is that I'm sincere and (hopefully) encouraging. Maybe that's why I wasn't comfortable with the cheerleader status - it didn't always feel sincere and heartfelt. I mean really, your team is down by 30 points and you're cheering, "Here We Go Cubs, Here We Go" - does anybody actually believe that?

But give me a four year old who is running as hard as he can with a big smile on his face and I'm sure to cheer for him. I'm going clap my hands and yell "Great job - keep it up." and he might look over at me wondering who the crazy lady is that's yelling at him, but I really am "oh-so-proud" of that kid. So, call me a cheerleader.

Just write...

2010-11-20T07:26:00.001-06:00

A few months ago someone asked me why I wasn’t blogging anymore. At the time we were in the teacher’s lounge surrounded by people I was just getting to know so all I said was something to the effect of, “Life is too sad right now.” But since she said that I’m reminded of advice I gave Sophie this summer when our lives changed in an instant – “Write about your feelings Sophie, just write.” Don’t worry – I’m not planning on sharing the most intimate details of the past five months with you, but I do think it’s important to take my own advice and start writing again. So here we go…

From the Mouths of Babes

2010-03-17T21:32:00.003-05:00

The other day I was reaching over the head of a first-grader as she sat at the computer and she exclaimed, "Oh, you've got bubblegum breath!" I smiled and told her, "Thanks, usually I have plain old coffee breath."

I love the alliteration of it - bubblegum breath. But most of all I love that it was my own breath - free of any flavorings or preservatives. It doesn't always work out that way, but when it does it makes me happy.

Shoelaces, the Back Door and a Face Plant

2010-03-17T21:18:00.004-05:00

Be warned - never be in such a hurry to get out the door that you don't bother to tie your shoelaces. Especially if they're long shoelaces. Especially if you're also carrying a hot cup of coffee. And especially if you're used to slamming the door shut (hard) behind you.

Because if you do, you might just get both shoelaces caught in the door and pitch forward as you try to walk - resulting in a loud scream, an unexpected tossing of the coffee cup, and a hard landing on the concrete steps.

But if you're lucky your face might land exactly where the next step goes down so it doesn't hit the concrete, the coffee cup might hit the patio block and shatter, but not enough to cut you, and you might be able to twist around enough to pull at least one shoelace out the door and hoist yourself up.

And then you might complain of a sore wrist, two sore palms, a sore chest, and one swollen knee. But at least the coffee wasn't all that hot and your face didn't get scratched up.

But be warned...be warned.

Let's start again

2010-01-15T09:18:00.000-06:00

I know it’s been a very long time since I last blogged – and so much has happened in that time. But to be honest, I just couldn’t do it anymore. More and more in the last few months that I did blog I felt like a big fake. You know the person, the perfectly coiffed woman whose children always have matching clothes and socks and never, ever have a (GASP!) bouger (sp?) hanging from their cute little noses.

Well I’ve never claimed to be perfectly groomed. In fact last September I saw an old college roommate at a funeral. I haven’t seen her in a few years and she commented on how I haven’t changed a bit – still unafraid to go out in public straight out of the shower – wet head and all.

I’ve also never claimed to have perfect children. I’m sure any walker or runner who frequents Belmont Road can attest to the fact that I have, at times, yelled at my children or the dog. Yelling at my husband – not so much.

So why did I feel like a fake? Probably because it felt like I was only providing a glowing picture of family life to the world – I never blogged about those times I lost it and yelled at the kids, or the times I let them stay in their pajamas and watch TV all day long so I could finish reading a book in the living room.

Rarely did I write about the talks with teachers, sisters, sisters-in-law, friends or Mom and Dad – doubting our ability to keep raising these kids the best way we think possible.

So I felt like a fake – our world is not perfect – far from it – and I stopped writing. But, as long as we all understand that aspect of the blog I think I’m ready to begin again. The blog is meant to capture moments that are precious at the time, but sometimes fade in our memory, to post pictures so relatives near and far can see the kids growing, and to (once in a while) vent about life’s frustrations. But please remember, behind the pictures and the stories we are real people living real lives.

So here goes…

The Last Nine Months Recap (more, possibly, to come later…)

• The Johnsons made it through the Fargo/Moorhead flood. We missed them when they were gone but they were happy (oh-so-happy) to be back together as a family again.
• I took a job as a librarian at a local Catholic school. It’s part-time and I love it.
• I’m back in school again – to get my librarian’s credential. Picture my side of conversation with Dave, “I guess my Ph.D. isn’t really my terminal degree… Yes I really do need a librarian’s credential to teach…Yes I’m learning a tremendous amount…. Did you send in the tuition check? Oh, what about paying for those textbooks? … Thanks honey!”
• Lucy and John attend the same school where I teach. It’s wonderful to see them each day. And the best news is I think I’ve only embarrassed John once. (That was their big concern when we discussed them switching schools.)
• Sophie has welcomed middle school with open arms and is having a wonderful year at Schroeder.
• Dave is still next door – plugging away at insurance business. But the big news is he is actually reading more fiction books – yeah!
• Dave’s oldest sister, Roberta, found out she has leukemia and has spent many months in the hospital since September. Please, please, please keep her in your prayers.
• I’ve finished two quilts since September – one for Roberta and one, with the help of all the other teachers from St. Mike’s, that was then raffled off as a fundraiser for our school secretary.

There was so much more – but I’ll have to try to remember it as we go along.

Flooding, Family and Faith

2009-04-05T21:12:00.004-05:00

The title words pretty much sum up the past few weeks around here. I worried and cried about a repeat flood of 1997, family and friends told me to have faith in our dikes, the families of our four siblings in the Fargo/Moorhead area sandbagged and sandbagged and came through this first crest pretty much intact, Dave's sister Roberta and three of her kids stayed with us for a week while her husband and two oldest sandbagged even more, and eight of us piled into the suburban and supported Lucy as she met with the priest and completed the sacrament of first reconciliation.

There were a few other happenings too - the girls performed some dances at Artwise, we caved in and bought a Wii, John got pnemonia, Sophie joined me and Nancy Devine on a trip to Washington D.C. to lobby for the National Writing Project, I laughed so hard I peed my pants at Nancy's escapades with a D.C. Newfoundland , John's godfather, Jeff, cooked some terrific steaks for us and took us to Mt. Vernon, Sophie read two books in one day while we traveled home, Roberta helped Lucy organize her bedroom and closet (Yeah!), John got better and better with the latest round of antibiotics even as Dave got sick, we got to see Carmyn's newly remodeled and redecorated apartment and I learned how to make crosses out of palms.

Everyone is in bed - Dave still with a fever - I've finished a blog entry for the first time in a while and now I'm going to finish reading my latest book, The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. Good night everyone!

The New and Improved Dungeon

2009-03-24T10:09:00.004-05:00

It's clean, it's painted, it's organized... it's the dungeon! Over the past week I have smiled every single time I walk by it - and I keep smiling when I actually spend time on the treadmill or use the newly purchased exercise ball.

Toothless Wonder

2009-03-18T07:42:00.000-05:00

Since losing his first tooth a few weeks ago John has lost three more. He hung onto two of them for the duration of our trip to Arizona but decided to pull them both out the night before last. Here he is - without his four front teeth.

They're growing up

2009-03-17T18:55:00.000-05:00

Seven-year-old John recently lost his first tooth. Overall it was a pretty non-traumatic event as he figured out he had a loose tooth one Saturday morning, he spent all day wiggling it, and by bedtime, it was out and the tooth fairy was on her way.

It went by so fast – I didn’t have time to prepare for it. With Lucy a tooth can be loose for months before she’ll get up the courage to pull it out – and even then it’s with lots of drama and by the time it’s out she’s lost a tooth and I’ve lost my patience. Sophie is pretty nonchalant now but when she was younger we had to coach her through it. With her first one she let Dave take the pliers to it but after that she wanted to do it all on her own.

Over the last twelve years there have been lots of firsts, seconds and thirds. And usually I’m fine with it all – I was excited for Sophie’s first steps, Lucy’s first words, and John’s first bed. I was happy to send Sophie off for her first day of Kindergarten, then Lucy and then John – there weren’t any tears shed by me for any of the kids. But this first tooth thing took me by surprise – after the tooth fairy had put the $1 bill under the glass that held the tooth, I shed a little tear.

Maybe it’s because Dave was out of town, maybe it’s because I was starting to get sick, or maybe it was because the kids had all been sick and I was tired – but actually I don’t think it was for any of those reasons. I think it had everything to do with the fact our kids are getting older and there won’t be any more losing of the first tooth at our house. We’re done – we’ve passed that milestone and we won’t see it again – until grandchildren start losing teeth.

The thing is, I wonder why this hit me so hard when other major events haven’t. Is it that our life has finally slowed down enough that there are times during the day when I actually have time to drink my coffee and just think? I have to admit that having three kids and one miscarriage in four years meant there was a whole lot of blurring of our days and nights but I must have still had some time to think and process, right?!!?

I don’t know the answer but I do know it hit me hard that all our kids are growing up – by July Sophie will be able to babysit, Lucy will hit double-digits on her next birthday, and John will be in second grade. The grade I used to teach and when I was teaching I certainly never thought of those second-graders as little ones.

My plan on coping with all this: sit back, grab a cup of coffee and give a kid a hug every chance I get. Oh, and I guess there might be a tear or two shed along the way.

Checking on Dakota

2009-03-12T14:43:00.002-05:00

I've been thinking about Dakota...and missing her. So this morning I called the kennel to see how she was doing. I didn't get the owners but I got another person who knows Dakota and she reassured me Dakota was doing fine and that she was sure she missed us.

With the phone disconnected but still in my hand I looked over to Dave and said, "I don't know what I really expected - I mean it's not like they'd let me talk to her or anything."

The strange thing is this - a year ago I never would have dreamed I'd call from vacation to check up on our dog. I don't think I ever did that with Dasher, (our "before kids" dog who we treated like a baby and slept with us every night) but then again Dasher usually stayed with family while we went on vacations. I think she only stayed in a kennel once in twelve years.

This dog has touched me in a way I didn't think I'd feel about an animal again. I love her smell, her soft paws, the way she licks my toes, and how she sleeps diagonally on her back with her legs all sprawled out. I miss her.

We'll all be happy to see her Sunday morning - and I think she'll be happy to see us too.

Heights

2009-03-11T19:18:00.005-05:00

I'm a bit afraid of heights. Perhaps it's because I grew up in North Dakota where the spring ritual for our track team was to run two miles just to find a small incline on which to run "hills." And then, even that hill was not much more than a dip in the gravel road. Or maybe it's because I have some distant childhood memory of traveling in a Winnebago and making our way around windy mountain roads. I'm not sure why I'm afraid of heights but I'm reminded of it every time we're in Arizona.

This year I told myself I wasn't going to climb right outside Mom and Dad's backyard (the red rock in the above picture). Last spring I climbed higher than I ever had before and well, I guess I thought that was high enough. This year the kids and Dave knocked off that same climb before lunch the other day - they came back happy and exhilerated and I was just as happy that I'd stayed on the ground. On another day I talked them into going for a hike, not a climb. There was lots of complaining going on during that four mile walk (too much walking, not enough climbing) but I was loving every minute of it.

Then came our last day in Sedona. John wanted to make to climb again - not hike - and I couldn't talk anybody into going for a hike around Bell Rock - or even a small jaunt to Cathedral Rock. So while Sophie and Lucy stayed back and made cookies with Mom, I went for a climb with Dad, Dave and John - with every intent of coming back on my own once I felt that familiar stomach tightening.

It started out wonderfully - I was amazed at John's climbing and his enthusiasm for leading us up the wash. He reminded me of Dad with the way he just scrabbled up the rocks. Here's a pic I took right after one of our water breaks.

We kept going and I was feeling great - beauty surrounded us everywhere I looked and the rocks in the wash were solid and strong. We kept climbing and climbing and I started kicking myself for not doing this the previous days.

Then came some loose rock that involved some hunching over and maneuvering sideways on all fours. Dave stuck with John but I could see the look of concern on his face - he knows me well enough to know that I had just reached my limit. But unfortunately, there was no going back down the way we had just come. So I sat, took a drink, and talked to myself. I looked over at Dave, with his smile and his shorts and hiking boots full of red dust and took this picture of the view. I told myself I've come this far and I'm fine - and I can keep going. So I did - slowly and carefully trying to breathe and willing my legs to keep moving.

By the time we all stopped for another water break Dad knew I wasn't doing so well. He came over to me and talked me through a narrow pass full of loose rock, "Hug the rock Marc, hug the rock. Get down on all fours, face it. If you fall you're not going anywhere. Hug the rock, hug the rock. Great job Marci Miller!"

I was less than reassured. By then I knew I had to make it to the top - we could try to find a different way back down but they knew, from past experience, that there was an easier way down on the other side of the rock. So, up we climbed.

John was starting to get a bit nervous - I'm sure I wasn't helping him feel any more comfortable on the rock even though the only thing I said was "Dave, stay with him. I can't watch him climb." Meaning - it was all I could do to worry about myself and worrying about him was making me even more stressed overall...

During this last stretch, Dad was climbing around like a mountain goat above us - back and forth, back and forth, trying to find the best way to get to the top. He called out, "Oh I don't know, we may need to go back down." My heart skipped a beat. Dave whispered, "What do you think?" and I replied, "There's no way I can go back down there." So we kept climbing to where Dad's voice was. John was chattering saying he wanted to go back down when suddenly he came to a complete standstill and exclaimed, "Holy Moly!" I looked up from my position on all fours and reiterated John's words, with a bit more emphasis.

Dad was sitting on the other side of a twenty foot drop - as calm as could be. But it was clear to us we'd have to walk across a ledge less than a foot wide and about eight feet long to reach him.

John was all for it. If he would have had a harness and a rope and been at the climbing wall in Grand Forks, I would have been fine. And although he didn't have those things, he had Dave and Dad and no fear. And he made it look so darn easy - he grabbed the rock, shuffled his feet and made it across without any problem. Then it was my turn. I certainly didn't make it look easy to anybody who might have been watching. The first shuffle step or two were all right but when I felt I couldn't get a good handhold I started to sweat. I willed my right leg to move but it didn't. I felt like my 94-year-old Grandma who has Parkinsons and tells her legs to move but they just won't listen. Dave reached over to it and said, "Move it on 3... 1,2,3." It moved on four... or maybe five.

I made it across and tried not to watch as Dave made his way. From there it was a relatively easy climb the next twenty feet or so to the top. Once we got there and I saw long distances of flat land I sank to the ground and gave a silent prayer. And thought, I don't care if I ever do this again - for the rest of my life.

We rested up a bit and then had a leisurely walk down the back side and around the hill...and I've made up my mind. I'll stick to regular old hiking from here on out.

PG 13 for a Reason

2009-03-11T00:20:00.004-05:00

Last night Mom and I went to the video store because I had it in my head that we (as in me, Dave, Sophie, Lucy John, and Mom and Dad) should all watch Ghost Town. In February I watched it all by myself when Dave was away on a trip and loved it. So much so I actually recommended it to quite a few people - including our wonderfully wholesome dentist.

Mom and I found the DVD at the store but I was surprised to see it was rated PG13. I racked my brains trying to figure out why - I didn't recall any nudity or violence. There was that one scene in the beginning of the story where a man is talking to his wife on the phone and we slowly figure out he's a jerk and is having an affair with a young woman named Amber. I took a minute and thought about what the kids would think and decided that the movie, as a whole, was worth it. I couldn't think of any other scenes I might object to so we got it and put it in.

Well, once the movie was playing it didn't take more than three minutes for me to see why it was rated PG13 - there was a major cuss word right in the beginning of it. I jumped when I heard it and looked at Mom who raised her eyebrows at me. We kept watching - my first mistake.

Then there was the part where there's talk of a mummy's private parts. We kept watching - my second mistake. (Oh wait - can it be a second mistake if I'd already made it once?!!)

There were various references to women, body parts, and lots of muttered expletives. Each time I jumped or coughed or made some other noise to try to drown out the movie. My final cough sequence, the one that came immediately before I told the kids they couldn't watch anymore, was so loud and lasted so long that Lucy asked me to be quiet so she could hear the movie.

They put up a fuss about having to leave. I tucked them in and as they lay on their air mattresses at Grama and Papa's I explained that I'd made a bad choice in ignoring the PG13 rating. And that even though I truly felt the overall message of the movie is an important one to learn, the movie itself was certainly not appropriate for them to watch. I summed up the movie for them - trying my very best at storytelling while all the while knowing I couldn't compete with the Hollywood version.

And then I hugged them and kissed them and said good night - all the while kicking myself for not heeding the PG13 warning.

So I've apoligised to our children - now what do I say to our dentist?!

Valentine Celebration Catch Up

2009-03-05T08:15:00.006-06:00

The 2nd Annual Chocolate Fondue Party

Dakota in her Valentine Gear (poor puppy!)

He's heading to Lovejoy Drive

2009-03-03T22:09:00.003-06:00

So last night I'm in an overheated room curled in a ball on the couch covered in two blankets and wishing my throat would stop throbbing. Dave is sitting in the Big Chair getting ready for his trip to Indiana - every few seconds I hear him state a destination into his new TomTom (a portable GPS device). The first few times he says something I grunt "What?" This goes on until I realize he's not actually talking to me. So I start to zone out again and in my cough-medicine induced haze I hear the following: County Road 39....Lincolnway....Jefferson Road...Lovejoy Drive...

I perk my ears, sit up and give him a look as in "Where exactly do you think you are going?"

He smirks and we both crack up. Can you imagine being the CFO of the company that is actually housed on Lovejoy Drive? I'm sure they've heard it all. But last night, in the middle of feeling sorry for ourselves and our sick kids, it gave Dave and me a much needed laugh.

Sick Germs

2009-03-02T12:32:00.005-06:00

We fly to Arizona on Friday and I'm already a bit nervous. My nervousness has nothing to do with flying and everything to do with all the germs we're more than likely going to pass on to all the other passengers and crew members. Sophie has been coughing like crazy for over two weeks and now John has started. Lucy just finished up antibiotics yesterday but now both Dave and I are feeling pretty awful with sore throats, headaches and general aches.

So I called the doctor today and tried to get three of us in. Unfortunately there was only one slot left in the entire clinic - with any doctor or any nurse practitioner. I nabbed the single appointment for Sophie and made a seperate appointment for me for tomorrow. My plan is that if our doctor doesn't think antibiotics will help Sophie, then they probably won't help John either. I've already increased his advair to twice a day and we'll take the nebulizer to AZ with us, just in case. We'll keep pumping Sophie full of expectorant for her cough.

As far as Dave and I - we'll go with the same plan except for totally different symptons. It's one of those things - I don't really think we need antibiotics but I sure would feel bad if it turns out we should have had them and we needlessly exposed all the other passengers and grandparents to our germs.

So wish us well at the appointments - and steer away from our part of the country if you can.

Saga of the Crowns

2009-02-17T07:30:00.001-06:00

I am not one for dentist visits. Even a little 30 minute visit makes me nervous - the xrays, the foreign objects in my mouth, the dentist asking questions when all you can do is nod your head or move your eyebrows up and down. But the worst is when I know I will have to have my mouth open for an extended period of time. Our dentist is wonderful - he plays classical music for me or lets me watch movies while he works on my teeth but I still leave feeling stiff and sore. No matter what he does or how I try to relax, I just can't.

I suppose it has something to do with me always wanting to be in control. And seriously, as an adult, there aren't many places I allow myself to go when I don't feel like I'm in control. But, at times, the dentist office simply cannot be avoided.

I knew a visit was on the horizon a few weeks ago when I bit down on a leftover Christmas candycane and suddenly felt a large jagged edge on my back molar. I gave a silent prayer that it was just a piece of candy cane that was stuck to my tooth - but to no avail. It was a broken tooth. And based on the size of the jaggedness, I knew it meant yet another crown for me.

The saga of the crowns all started when I was pregnant with Lucy and had a craving for Milk Duds - every single day. Until part of a tooth broke off right in a milk dud. Our dentist was able to patch it up with a temporary until after she was born and then he did the real work - but that crown turned into an emergency root canal as well as a crown. As did the next one. By the time I needed a third crown two years ago I suggested we just book an appointment with the endodontist right away. We didn't but I did need a root canal. Finally, on the last crown I made it through without a root canal. My mouth, and our pocketbook, were both pretty happy about that.

And here I am - day five post dental work for my fifth crown and all is well. Here's hoping it stays that way until the permanent crown is in place. If you have any connections with the tooth fairy, please put in a good word for me.

Tastebuds or Funny Little Bump Things

2009-02-16T12:55:00.003-06:00

Over lunch Dave and I were discussing the bumps you get on your tongue every once in awhile. You know what I mean - the little red bumps that are sort of like a cankersore but on your tongue. I said I thought it was a new tastebud growing in and he called it "a funny little bump thing." So who was right?

Apparently neither one of us, or both of us - depending upon how you look at it.

They are actually inflamed papillae - where the taste buds are. According to this site, the bumps are an injury caused by hot food or drink or a self-inflicted bite. Which totally makes sense for me as I had a two-hour dentist appointment followed by a few more hours of a numb cheek and tongue last Thursday.

So, Dave was right in that they are indeed funny little bump things and I was somewhat correct in that they had to do with the tastebuds. And there you have it - new, useless information for you to share with others as you see fit.

Happy Valentine's Day

2009-02-14T16:54:00.004-06:00

Ode to Dakota (from John)

2009-02-12T20:16:00.007-06:00

Dear Dakota,
I love you so much. When I am at school I can't wait to see you.
From John.

Dakota

2009-02-12T07:00:00.001-06:00

Dakota is one of four featured dogs on the webpage of Wag-N-Train - check it out here. If you live near us and your dog is in need of training or boarding, we think you should give them a try. It's been wonderful to work with Carlene and Jo - we'll miss them when we're done with our five-week training package but Dakota will still get to see them on occassion.

Why I Stay Home

2009-02-11T12:10:00.004-06:00

There’s a new commercial on television – I think it’s either TLC or HGTV – featuring a woman entering her office and going straight to her computer. We can see the pictures of her kids on her desk but her eyes are on the 300 messages in her inbox while her ears are focused on listening to her voicemail messages. We see her go throughout her day – being frustrated with the copy machine, walking the halls with blueprints, and thanking her assistants as they drop off more blueprints and files at her desk. Finally, in the last few seconds we see her home all lit up in the evening hours and she walks through the door and is encompassed by her children who eagerly hug her and show off their homework. For the first time all day she looks relaxed and happy. The message – come home to your comfort.

I’m all about home and comfort but when I watched the commercial I felt sad. It reminded too much of when I was teaching at UND and was constantly questioning myself. “Am I doing right by our kids?” “Am I doing right by my students?” I was like the woman in the commercial in many ways – I had pictures of the kids on my desk, their artwork was posted on my office door, under my desk was a Rubbermaid container full of toys and books for when they visited, and when they were babies there was even a pack-n-play in my office right next to all the books about literacy. But when I was at work, I was at work.

And I liked to think that when I was at home, I was at home. I dropped the kids off and picked them up from school each day. We had a wonderful young woman, Dana, who came to our house each day for a few years so we didn’t have to take them out to daycare. One day a week, usually when I taught my night class or met with grad students, she came after lunch and stayed late. That meant the kids and I got to hang out for the entire morning. And I tried not to think about cleaning the bathrooms or doing laundry during that time.

But when I decided to “retire” from teaching at age 38 I was, frankly, relieved. It meant I no longer had to put the kids in bed and then stay up until 2 am grading papers. Or else get up at the ungodly hour of 3 am to grade those papers. It meant I no longer had to choose between raising our children and trying to be a teacher, mentor, and parent to twenty year old college students who often needed the same kind of parenting as our young children.

I was, and am lucky, that Dave was supportive of my decision. Even though it meant we weren’t stacking away money into my retirement account and even though it means we pay for health insurance out of our own pockets.

And it meant I could take over the household – something I hadn’t done much since we’d had kids. As I write this I realize I’m not sure the last time Dave cleaned a bathroom, vacuumed or did a load of laundry. That doesn’t mean things are perfect – after all when he left for his last business trip he didn’t have any clean white shirts because I’d done all the laundry, except for that particular load. Oops. Dave certainly still does his share of the cooking and some of the grocery shopping – but I blame that on him being so darn picky – not that I can’t cook.

And my professional ego is OK with all this – perhaps in part because, as my Theresa is quick to point out, I still have my foot in the professional world. With my work with the Red River Valley Writing Project I get a salary, am able to work with teachers and students, and get to do most of this from home.

All these points were brought home to me yesterday when Mike, a friend and incredible handyman, was irritated with me that I didn’t take him to Lowe’s to get insulation for 817’s attic. In his snit he even went so far as to say all I did was hang out all day long. Let’s just say I was a little peeved at that comment.

Yesterday, for instance, was Day 5 of Dave being gone for 7 days. Our bed had been a revolving door the night before with Sophie in with me at 3 because of a nightmare and John with me at 4:30 because his tummy hurt. When he threw up an hour later I knew he’d be staying home with me. And that was just fine – because I didn’t have to resent the fact that Dave was at a business meeting and I was the one who would have to miss work. So yes, John and I sat on the couch and snuggled and watched movies all day long. I drank a lot of coffee, made a lot of soup, and got the gazillion pictures on the computer organized – something I’d been meaning to do for over a year. But no, I didn’t get to take Mike to Lowe’s to get insulation. But that’s because my kids come first.

It isn’t that I wouldn’t like the thrill of teaching again. It isn’t that I don’t long for stimulating conversation during the day. But I am home because emotionally it was too hard for me to do it all – and do it all well. As you can probably tell from many of my blog entries I’m somewhat of a perfectionist. So when I didn’t feel I was doing a good job at any of my jobs – wife, mother, professor – it was time to stop. And most days, I don’t regret it. But yesterday I found myself going over Mike’s comment again and again and rationalizing what I do.

And what I cam up with was pretty darn important – I stay home with my kids. Going back to the TV commercial – how much do you want to bet that woman has someone right there at home with her kids, taking care of them and helping her be who she is. And aren’t those kids what is so very important in our lives?

So what exactly is a dungeon?

2009-02-09T20:49:00.007-06:00

For those of you who haven't been to our house, there have been some questions about our dungeon - so let me explain. We don't actually keep prisoners down there - just a chest freezer from my grandparents, random tools, old paint cans, and oh yes, exercise equipment in the form of a treadmill and recumbent bike. Our house was built in 1911 but the dungeon and the family room above it were added on to the house in 1979.

According to Sophie, it is old and a storage place for odd things. (I agree with her, but the thing is, keep in mind it is actually the newest part of the house.) We started calling it the dungeon because it's a place we just don't love to go. And it's the place where, when objects do go, they are often not seen again for a very long time. If ever.

Take John's little hockey figurines and net. They got broken - they were placed in the dungeon to be fixed - and we haven't seen them in two years. What about Sophie's Christmas ornament? Same story.

Lucy recently had something that was broken and she wanted Dave to fix. I, of course, suggested the dungeon, but she got an alarmed look on her face. "No, Mom, no! If we put there I'll never see it again." I laughed, only because I knew she was right.

But I am a bit nervous about losing the latest occupant of the dungeon - it's a pretty special plate John drew and painted a few years ago during one of our Arizona visits. His sisters accidentally broke it and for weeks I kept the pieces on the kitchen counter - not wanting to put it in the dungeon for the very reason Lucy voiced.

So it sat on the counter and Dave did work on it. Every few days he'd take out the gorilla glue and piece one more ceramic shard onto the plate. The problem is, there were many pieces... and it wasn't long before he left for his infamous trip to Acapulco.

So, while he was gone, I carefully placed the broken plate on his worktable in the dungeon. I put the gorilla glue beside it and found Sophie's Christmas ornament and put it near the pile. And now we'll wait and see... and hope they don't get swallowed up in the dungeon.

Email to my husband in Acapulco while we're in the middle of an ice storm...

2009-02-09T20:16:00.006-06:00

Hi - guess what... Mike's here painting the dungeon and it looks fabulous. Except where there's water on the floor and walls since we've gotten so much rain and the snow is melting - aughhh.

I'm also not parking in the garage anymore as I slightly hit the inside pole with the left bumper. No worries though - Modern Auto Body does not need to be called.

We're skipping all activities tonight as it's been raining all day and everything will be a giant skating rink. It was nuts this morning - everything was icy.

When I left Phoenix after being in John's classroom I heard someone calling out and looked down the alley - a man was flopping around like a walleye and yelling. When I asked him if he was all right he gingerly got up and just said, "Not a good day to wear Converse."

Then when I went to pick up Sophie, Lucy and John after school I looked around the playground and kids were dropping like flies - no matter where I looked. I guess we all should have just got out our ice skates today. :)

Tomorrow is supposed to be a snowstorm - on top of all this ice... yikes! Maybe we should consider moving somewhere warm...

But all in all we're doing good here - everyone's happy. I love you, Marci

By the way - Dave, being the good husband he is, called home within five minutes of my sending the email. Secretly, I think he was worried about his Suburban and our tiny garage but he insists he'd picked up his Blackberry to call home and saw the message. Hmmmm... sound like a bit too much coincidence?!

Sunday Morning Coffee

2009-02-08T09:59:00.004-06:00

A photo essay by John - the title being "My mom likes every drop of her morning coffee.

And Dave, if he were here instead of Acapulco, would say with a smile, "Open up those eyes Marci."

Hockey John

2009-02-08T09:46:00.003-06:00

According to John, he's going to play hockey "his whole life long." I think he's taking a lesson from his dad who still plays on an old man's league on Sunday nights. Or at least when he's in town and his knee isn't bothering him... or his shoulder isn't stiff ... or he's not too tired from choppping wood all weekend. It'll be fun to see how hockey plays out with John and what he's like at 42.

Kitchen Facelift

2009-02-03T19:40:00.000-06:00

Before

Blame it on the cold weather over the last few weeks, but as a direct result I've spent a lot of time bundled up in the family room with the television turned to one home improvement channel or another. And now we've got new cabinet hardware to show for it.

After
As you can tell by the "coffee station" I'm still working on getting the hinges changed out - but give me a break as I had to buy 18 knobs, 15 pulls, and 36 hinges. Only 22 hinges left to go and we'll call it good.

It's not one of those things most people will probably even notice - but I feel like it's more of a match now. The knobs, pulls and hinges match the stove and dishwasher now instead of being gold brass. Now, if only a new counter was in the budget. Hmmmmm... I think that'll cost more than the $115 I spent on hardware, don't you think?

Sophie at the Climbing Gym

2009-02-03T08:56:00.001-06:00

The Big Haircut Hits our Home Again

2009-02-02T08:40:00.000-06:00

Almost two years ago Sophie donated her hair to Locks of Love; this time, it was Lucy who decided to grow out her hair and then donate her newly-cut braid to an organization that makes wigs for people who have had cancer or other diseases where their hair doesn't grow. We actually sent Lucy's hair to Pantene Beautiful Lengths instead of Locks of Love or Wigs for Kids because Lucy definitely had 8 inches, probably 9 to 10, but she didn't want her hair really short.

What a wonderful thing for a little one to do. We're proud of her... and here she is with her new look.

Musical Discover: Car Horns

2009-02-01T10:46:00.002-06:00

After yesterday's post I wanted to do a bit of research about car horns. But this is far more interesting material - go to Car Horn Organ and click on the green link to the right of the page "Hear the Car Horn Organ." Then, if you want to hear more music, go to the middle of the page and listen to "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" as played by the car horn organ. You're sure to laugh out loud.

Car Horns and the Bird

2009-01-31T10:22:00.003-06:00

I'm not a horn tooter. In fact, before I hit the horn in any car I think about my actions. Of course, this overthinking can be a bit dangerous as that split second could be the difference between getting hit by another car or avoiding a collision. But I can't help it - I think horns are rude.

It seems there should be three different tunes on a car horn - one for an urgent warning as in "Let's avoid having an accident," one for "The light has turned green, it's time to stop talking to your passenger and start going," and one for "Hey Jodi, the mail carrier, how are you doing?" Notice I don't think there should be a rude tune - but that goes back to how I think our society, in general, has become overtly rude and immature in recent years.

Which brings me to yesterday's horn event. I was driving Dave's monster suburban and was second in line at a busy stoplight. The driver in front of me was enthusiastically engaged in conversation with his passenger and frankly, my mind was also otherwise engaged as I was thinking I should join Dave on his upcoming trip to Acalpulco (another story).

The stoplight turned green and the driver in front of me was still engaged in conversation. I waited and counted to three, looked in the rearview mirror at a long line of cars, and raised my hand to the horn and paused ... should I or shouldn't I? I looked again and the driver was still talking to his passenger, oblivious to the green light.

So I tapped the horn and a short toot emerged from somewhere under the trunk of the car. The driver looked up, started going and just as I was congratulating myself on a successful honk, flipped me the bird.

I was shocked. I raised my hands in a "What's that all about gesture?!" and proceeded to follow the driver as he turned into a strip mall. I wanted to explain myself - that if I could have done a polite honk, I certainly would have, but there was no need to flip me off. I'm not a honker for goodness sakes.

I followed him the length of the strip mall - at which point I remembered I was in Dave's enormous, could-be-perceived-as-menacing suburban. And the bird thrower wasn't stopping anyways, he kept going through the mall parking lot.

So I turned the car around and drove home, taking the back roads, just to be safe. When I told Dave the story he just looked at me, shook his head and said, "Do you have do to that kind of stuff when you're driving my car?!"

We've come a long way baby

2009-01-26T10:32:00.002-06:00

This picture is of John at seven months - our happy baby who looked like he must just hurt. The baby who couldn't sleep for more than a few hours before he woke up itchy. The baby who had at least one bath a day (without soap) for his first year of life - just so his skin could stay hydrated.

John was first diagnosed with eczema at his two month checkup, but until that point it was manageable. But from the time he was 2 1/2 months until we figured out he was allergic to the cassein in milk and dogs at about eight months, he pretty much looked like the picture above. We tried everything - from Aveeno products to Crisco vegetable shortening... I know, I know but we were desperate. His daily regiment consisted of a lukewarm bath followed immediately by a "patting dry" followed immediately by an antibiotic ointment followed by a coritsone ointment or else protopic, followed by a slathering of aquaphor. We only used All Free laundry detergent, avoided fabric softeners all together and he only wore 100% cotton clothing. I was nursing so I gave up all dairy and all citrus. Nothing seemed to help.

Until, finally, at seven months we did allergy testing. At that point we found out John was allergic to dogs and the cassein in milk. I quit nursing and we tried Alimentum formula - which he actually drank even though it smelled nasty. After Dasher, our twelve-year-old cocker spaniel, died in her sleep we got all the rugs, upholstry and carpets professionally cleaned. And, within a few weeks of those changes, John was better. Better as in we could see his beautiful round cheeks without the weeping sores for the first time since he was only a few months old.

He still breaks out - especially his hands during this time of year when he's playing hockey - but he just knows it means we need to slather his hands with aquaphor and he needs to wear all cotton socks to bed for a few nights in a row. We've learned that the antibacterial gels that so many people use in place of washing hands do not work at all for him - they cause his hands to become almost raw. And we still use the Robathol bath oil once in a while - if nothing else but to give him incredibly soft skin.

What's most amazing though is that he drinks milk all the time now - and eats yogurt. And we got a dog - granted one that is supposed to be non-shedding (not always the case at our house) and hypo-allergenic. And even though Dakota does shed a bit it's pretty amazing to see how John just snuggles right into her furry belly and rubs his face all around her - and there's not a wheeze, not a dry patch, not anything.

Overall, I'd say we're pretty fortunate.

Introducing The Scoobys

2009-01-25T20:43:00.006-06:00

Since the kids were small they've loved to watch Scooby-Doo movies. If we allowed it they'd have a Scooby-Doo marathon - watching movies and episodes until there weren't any more left to watch. I'm not sure where they get it - neither Dave nor I were big Scooby-Doo fans in our days

I took the girls to Target yesterday to spend their Christmas and birthday gift cards and they chose, you guessed it, a Scooby-Doo movie. John was elated with their choice and they all immediately sat down to watch it. Then today they formed a basement band called The Scoobys. They made microphones, fashioned guitars out of plastic hockey sticks and bathrobe belts, and decorated wooden rulers with glitter glue for drumsticks. John and Sophie are the guitarists, but John really rocks with him homemade amplifier (made out of black construction paper and hooked to his guitar with red yarn). Sophie is the lead singer and knows every word to the four Scooby-Doo songs they sang while Lucy had two roles: drummer and keyboardist.

The three members of The Scoobys believe in playing as you are - so they were in their pajamas with uncombed hair (and I'm sure, unbrushed teeth) for the entire day. Dave and I were treated to a concert performance intermingled with Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island footage.

It was all pretty wonderful - and I hate to admit it, but I even somewhat enjoyed the movie.

On cold days my office is...

2009-01-23T17:55:00.007-06:00

HERE!

The fire has been going since before lunch and, as you can see, I've got a nice stack of wood that should last me into the night. A fire always beats the space heater in my regular office - go ahead, bring on the cold.

Stop and smell the flowers...

2009-01-21T10:30:00.007-06:00

As you may have guessed my Republican husband wasn't in as joyful of mood as others around him yesterday. He wasn't overtly grumpy and did listen to some of the inauguration as he worked but let's just say I walked a little on eggshells around him. He gave a smirk, as in a "Maybe there's hope yet for Marci" smirk, when I read about a local elected official who attended the shoethrowing fest at the White House and started ranting about the immaturity of it all. But he knows me, and I know him and neither one of us is going to change the mind of the other. So, as usual when it comes to politics, we called a truce.

In the early evening hours I ran some errands after dropping Sophie off at ballet. As I loaded the groceries into the car I spotted an old friend stepping out of hers. Laurie's was the classroom in which I completed my dissertation research, she is the one I worked with to collaborate between the local school district and the writing project to offer inservice to teachers, her daughter was one of my grad students in reading education at UND, and just this past summer her son married Michelle, our very favorite babysitter. And in November, her husband suddenly died of a heart attack while playing basketball.

I shut the car door, called out and walked across the parking lot to her where we embraced in a hug that meant so much. You see, at Neil's prayer service I didn't give her a hug because there were oh-so-many people waiting in line to console her. I hugged and cried with Heather and Michelle but didn't have an opportunity to speak with Laurie.

In the cold and damp air we spoke and hugged and spoke and even laughed for about ten minutues - then I was off to my car and she walked to her shopping. And on the way home I stopped at the Flower Bug and bought some flowers for my Republican husband. I know the day wasn't an easy one for him, and I'm sure as a small business owner he'll be disappointed and even frustrated in the years to come, but he's here with me and me with him. And we're so lucky to have that.

Let's be a bit more mature...

2009-01-20T15:37:00.003-06:00

What's wrong with us that we can't respect the presidency? Read this, laugh if you want, but then take a step back and think about how immature supposedly mature people can be.

I felt the same way at the 2001 inauguration when Dave and I were in the crowd with a group of friends. When the voice over the loudspeaker announced President Clinton's car the crowd booed and booed and booed. Some of our friends even booed and I think they were taken aback with me when I scolded them and told them to at least respect the office - you may not agree with the man (or hopefully, someday, woman) holding the office but please, please don't boo or throw shoes.

And by the way, I voted for Obama. Don't think I'm disgusted because I'm a sore loser.

More Kid Malapropisms

2009-01-20T10:01:00.004-06:00

On the way to the ballet on Saturday night John was most interested in the concession stand and asked, "Can we get popcorn during the interference?" To which I replied, "Uh, no... that would be intermission John, and yes you can."

Two things - can you tell he had hockey practice earlier in the day? And secondly, aren't we lucky we get to munch on popcorn while watching classical ballet?

Sleeping Beauty

2009-01-19T13:14:00.006-06:00

One would think that after five performances in three days and 30 dances, Sophie would be a bit tired of dancing. Well, she's not - nor is Lucy who did four performances with one beautiful dance in each. Nor am I - who sat through countless hours of practice and performances last week. But there's something much different about sitting in a comfortable chair in our own living room, with coffee in hand, watching the girls dance than watching from a theater audience.

As my friend Michelle best put it, I'm feeling a bit nostaligic about the whole ballet thing. Our girls have usually been some of the youngest - I remember watching Sophie and Lucy at some of their first ballet practices and telling another mom, as we laughed until tears came to our eyes, that watching preschoolers do ballet was the best kind of therapy available.

It's still therapy for me, watching them dance, but another kind. The therapy that involves coming to terms with myself as a parent and learning to let go. Even as Sophie has joined the Apprentice Company I have struggled with it - the girls are all older, most of them have cell phones, , they wear short shorts to practice, they talk about boys. I don't want her to grow up too fast. At the same time she's made good choices - she and McKenzie (the girl closest to her age who knows the ropes as she was in Apprentice last year) have become good friends. And when I see her in practice - her look of determination and the way she has challenged herself to do better and better each week, the way she moves and how different it is from even six months ago - I am so very proud of her.

In the meantime we still have a year or two before Lucy moves up to the Apprentice level and the older girls. And then she will hopefully have a peer group that moves up with her and it won't seem so scary for me. And I'll have learned that it is ok, that it's wonderful, to have the girls grow up and become independent.

By the way, the ballet was beautiful - the North Dakota Ballet Company did yet another outstanding job with bringing classical ballet to our small town. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Radiator Warmth

2009-01-15T10:10:00.001-06:00

There's nothing quite like sliding your hand into the warmth of a mitten that's been sitting on a radiator. Unless it's putting on a hat that's been sitting on a radiator. Or maybe if it's the feeling of dipping your feet into the warmth of boots that have been sitting at the bottom of a radiator.

We've got two radiators by the back door and from November until mid-April they're constantly covered in hats, mittens, gloves and sometimes scarves. Our radiator habit started at the old house when the kids were small. After an afternoon of playing outside they'd come in with wet hats,mittens,scarves, coats and snowpants - and all that outside gear went right on top of the eight foot long radiator in the living room or the four foot one in the dining room. In no time at all everything would be dry and ready to be hung up again.

But when we moved here four years ago things changed. The longest radiator in the house measures only three feet and is in John's bedroom so coats and snowpants now go in the dryer to dry while the hats and gloves go on top of the two radiators by the back door. It always looks like a mess in that back hall but all I need to do to take my mind off it is slide my cold hands into a pair of mittens and the mess is forgotten.

Squirting Flavor

2009-01-15T09:13:00.004-06:00

In this household of five people, three of the five are extremely picky. That would be Dave, Lucy and John - with Dave and Lucy being the worst. It wouldn't be so bad if they all were picky about the same types of foods, but that's not the case. Dave dislikes anything with onion, tomato, or peppers but will occassionally eat tomato soup from a can and loves plain old meat and potatoes. Lucy cannot stand any type of potato except French Fries and hashbrowns - yet I'll make Cheesy Hashbrowns and she won't eat them. John basically frowns and complains about anything I make - except pizza. But at least he'll usually eat the food on his plate whereas Lucy has gagged and thrown up on more than one occassion at the dinner table. It's to the point where Dave and I look at each other and smile as she starts gagging on her potatoes. (Just so you know I'm not a totally awful parent, the first ten or so times she gagged I rubbed her back and talked her through it. See, I'm not all bad.)

But I'm tired of cooking and having at least one person complain about it. Even as one complains, another is happy about the meal. For example, I made Grandpa's Goulash (spaghetti noodles, tomato soup, and hamburger) recipe this weekend - Sophie was ecstatic while John and Lucy complained. Dave, smart man, kept quiet.

It's been a long week here - with temperatures never seeming to reach above -20 degrees, Dave away in Philadelphia, and ballet practice going on three hours a night/each night. Throughout it I've been very conscious of making a good supper to last the girls through ballet practice. Last night it was chicken stew with dumplings - a hearty and warm meal, right?!

There were complaints all around. The dumplings had parsley in them (yes, I realized the parsley was a mistake the minute I added it to the flour) and there were corn and peas in the stew. And as Lucy said, "Didn't you know we didn't like this last time we had it? It was Dakota who liked it." (That's another story.)

Sophie at least ate most of it - her chief complaint being the dumplings didn't look the same as when she'd made them and they didn't taste as good either. But I was pretty frustrated with Lucy and John - and resorted to the timer. They had five minutes to eat and whatever they ate in that five minutes was all they got to eat for the rest of the night. They started eating - and talking - and eating.

As I washed the pots, I heard John say he wished there weren't such things as peas because they didn't have any flavor. And then he added, "But at least you can't taste them." To which Lucy replied, "They squirt though - they squirt flavor."

With my back to the kids I smiled - she had it right. Peas do squirt flavor and I, for one, love that squirt of flavor. Hopefully, one day she and John will too. In the meantime I'll just keep trying... and trying... and trying.

Climbing Club

2009-01-14T22:09:00.005-06:00

Lucy on the Wall
John on the Wall

(Sophie missed the first two classes due to Sleeping Beauty ballet recitals - watch out on Monday!)

While visiting Nicole at Vail last fall I got to see a group of kids in action during their climbing club. At this particular class the kids were climbing up and down the wall as many times as they could trying to raise money for books in poverty-stricken countries. Now that's a fundraiser I can agree with on many levels - kids exercising both their bodies and minds AND literacy. C'mon - you can't get any better than that in my eyes.

Watching ten-year-old Susan climb (and even ballay me as I climbed)inspired me and I got to thinking how we could do a Climbing Club for Kids in Grand Forks. As soon as we got back I stopped by the Northern Heights Climbing Gym and talked to some of the guys there about the idea. You know it's a good idea when they were thinking the exact same thing.

SO that's where the kids are - Monday nights from 6:45-8:00 - at the climbing gym exercising minds and bodies at the same time. Now all we need is the literacy aspect.

To Done List: January 12, 2008

2009-01-12T22:36:00.004-06:00

Remember my friend Corby's to done list idea? The object is to feel a sense of accomplishment from what you got done during the day rather than focus on what didn't get done.

So here's today's list - not as extensive as others but keep in mind I spent two - count 'em TWO - hours on the phone today with Mom and Theresa.

1. Stripped three beds at 817.
2. Washed sheets, towels and bath rug from 817.
3. Made up the beds.
4. Edited flyers for Davey-baby to take with him on his trip to Philadelphia.
5. Emailed flyer to Kinko's.
6. Purchased Christmas postcards and Reindeer finger puppets at Kinko's while I waited for the flyers to print.
7. Booked a flight to Edmonton to visit Theresa and her family.
8. Picked up asthma meds for John.
9. Mailed letters for Dave.
10. Deposited checks for Dave.
11. Kept the kitchen clean.
12. Walked to the greenway with Dakota and went cross-country skiing.
13. Sat on a chair in my office with my feet up, space heater on and blanket covering me for two hours - and talked on the phone.
14. Bought $42 worth of makeup - $42 worth!!! - for Sophie for the Cinderella ballet this weekend. Do you realize I haven't spent $42 on makeup for myself over the last three years put together?!?!
15. Picked up Sophie, Lucy and John from school.
16. Sent John off to a playdate with Oliver.
17. Fed Sophie and Lucy snack while we practiced putting makeup on Sophie.
18. Told Sophie she looks more beautiful without makeup than with it on - at least the way I'm able to put it on.
19. Put Lucy's hair in a bun.
20. Took Lucy to ballet.
21. Helped John look for his hockey sock - never did find it.
22. Told a neighbor she could use the suburban to pick up her husband whose car stalled by the Canadian border.
23. Heated up leftovers - fed everyone.
24. Went with Dave, Sophie, and John to drop John off at hockey practice.
25. Dropped Sophie off at ballet practice.
26. Picked up Lucy from ballet.
27. Fed Lucy in the car.
28. Picked up copies from Kinko's. Dave left me there while he got John - hence the extra buying splurge mentioned in #6.
29. Dropped off John and Lucy at the climbing wall for climbing lessons.
30. Shopped at KMart with Dave - vitamins and mittens for the kids.
31. Took Dave home so he could rest before his 4:40 am flight.
32. Watched the last of John and Lucy's climbing lesson - took some pics.
33. Asked the kids how proud we would have been of them and their listening if we would have been there. Unfortunately their answers left something to be desired - we'll try again next week.
34. Dropped off John and Lucy at home with Dave.
35. Watched the last of Sophie's ballet practice.
36. Drove Sophie home.
37. Made her some peanut butter toast and kissed her goodnight.
38. Sat with Dave for a few minutes.
39. Talked with our neighbors about their car - not good news for them.
40. Kissed the sleeping kids goodnight.
41. Checked my email for the first time today.
42. Wrote this blog entry...
and now I'm ready for bed.

If you made it this far, thanks for listening and keep in mind most afternoons and evenings here on Belmont Road are not like this.

Steph's Phone

2009-01-08T19:34:00.005-06:00

Thanks to Odie and her great taste we've got this wonderful phone in our little kitchen cubby. Isn't it adorable? I was at her house a month ago and spied it on a storage shelf in her basement. I said something like, "Oh, look at that cool phone!" and before I knew it I was walking home with it cradled in my mittened hands.

It took a little bit of work to get it to fit right - I had to do a little painting in the cubby since there used to be door that hid the phone from view. And then we took off said door and put it back up on the other side. So there's still access to the phone via the coat closet and one can still technically sit on a bench in the closet and talk on the phone - if one can find a space to sit amongst all the backpacks and ballet bags. I have yet to do it, but I can tell from the scratchings on the metal laundry chute it's been done. (Lori O - can you give us any hints about that?!!)

The coat closet/booth itself reminds me of my Delta Gamma days and sitting in one of those phone booths making a date with Dave. Or worriedly walking by a shut phone booth door, hearing occasional sobs and wondering about the relationship or family drama going on behind closed doors. Let's just hope there's none of that to come in the phone booth here on Belmont Road. Seriously, there's drama enough in our lives. Remember that Sophie, Lucy and John!

P.S. Thanks so much Odie - as soon as you find a wall jack we'll get it back to you. :)

Dressed for outside hockey

2009-01-08T19:30:00.003-06:00

Here's John - and no he hasn't gained a lot of weight around his tummy - all ready for outdoor hockey practice. They play even if it's below zero so he has his winter coat on in lieu of shoulder pads and elbow pads. What a cutie.

Comfort Keeper

2009-01-07T11:51:00.004-06:00

I couldn't sleep last night - from 2:05 until 5:30 I lay awake asking myself, "When did John stop being my little boy?" I don't know the answer but it's apparently come on slowly enough that I didn't see it coming. Then, last night, at precisely 2:05 it hit me.

Lucy had a fever and was home sick from school yesterday so when I heard the attic door open and footsteps come up the stairs at 2 am last night I just assumed one of the kids wasn't feeling well. I forced open my eyes to see John at the corner of the stairs and as I prepared to hold out my arms for him I saw him bypass me and head to the other side of the bed. Admittedly, I was somewhat OK with that - after all, it meant Dave got to deal with a sick child. But then I heard him snuggle in with Dave and murmur, "I had a nightmare."

I instantly became fully awake. Wait a minute - if it's a nightmare aren't I the one to provide comfort? Aren't I the one to hold the child tight in my arms and nuzzle my mouth into that sleepy head full of hair and whisper, "It's OK, Mama's here. It was just a dream. Mama's here."

Granted, the instant Dave told John everything was OK and let him go John rounded back to my side of the bed and gave me a hug as well. I held him tight and resisted the urge to have him lay in bed with us for a bit. Instead, I told him to start down the stairs and I'd come tuck him back in. He did and I did. But even then, he was already in bed with the covers pulled tight heading back to his own dreamworld.

I went back upstairs and crawled into bed but I couldn't sleep. When did this happen? When did he start looking to Dave for comfort more than me? I'm not jealous, really I'm not. But I feel a sort of sadness that my time as the main comforter is up - my little boy is growing up. Maybe it'll come back around again at some point - but who knows.

The whole thing is I'm happy for Dave and for our kids. They all know love for one another in an unconditional way. They know that even though Dave might get grumpy at them for not listening the first time or for coming downstairs after they should have been in bed he still loves them and will always be there for them. That even though he travels around the country quite a bit we're not far from his thoughts when he's gone.

When he's home, he's really home. And that's not just because he works out of 817. It's because he's present. His presence is in the way their vitamins are on the kitchen table every morning and the way vegetables make their way to that same table at suppertime. It's in the booming "Good morning" we hear as he sees us for the first time each day. It's how he gets up early and goes to work at 817 and then makes his way back over here before school starts and even walks with us to school a few days a week. And it's in the "I love you" voiced each night. It's no wonder John sought Dave for comfort last night... we should all have such a Dave in our lives.

I'm so glad I do.

Dakota's First Christmas

2009-01-07T08:35:00.002-06:00

Santa McSqueaker (the third in a series of McSqueakers Dakota has been through)

For the first time in our history the kids took money from their piggybanks and used it to buy presents for family and friends. In the past I've taken two of them out to buy for the third and then two others, etc... and Dave and I have always paid for each gift. But this year, with no prodding from either parent, they chose to use their own money. There was no rhyme or reason for who they bought for or why - they were just totally into the idea of giving.

Dave took them out shopping while I read by the fire and the minute they got home the wrapping began. By day's end the tree skirt was filled with gifts full of heart and childish delight.

So who, you wonder, got the most presents? I think it was a probably a tie between Dakota and me... although you would be correct if you assume I've taken better care of my presents than Dakota. Let's just say for about a minute after these pictures were taken we were afraid she'd eaten the squeaker inside of Santa.

It's all about the coffee, isn't it?

2009-01-06T09:50:00.000-06:00

Even though I'm basically the only coffee drinker in our family I always make, at minimum, an eight-cup pot of coffee each morning. I do this for several reasons - such as I always seem to misplace my coffee cup or else I know where it is but it's too cold to drink. I have no qualms about microwaving my coffee to warm it up - but you can only microwave the same coffee so many times before it starts to get bitter. Trust me, I've done it. Repeatedly.

Most of my "stop over during the day friends" are big coffee drinkers too - so it pays to always keep the coffee on. But along with the moniker of "big coffee drinker" comes "picky coffee drinker" and trust me, my coffee is not anything to write home about. I can, at times, make an excellent cup - one that is strong and smooth and makes my day. Other days, well, let's just say, "Not so much."

I don't know what it is. I try to make it the same way every day. I've experimented with tap water, with filtered water and with all different kinds of coffee. But it just doesn't work. The first cup doesn't really matter to me - I think just about anything would taste good to me at that point. But by the time friends come over I'm way past that first cup, as are they.

Luckily for me I spent a few days in Cando over New Year's Eve and discovered the perfect solution had been under my nose hiding in Katie's Lazy Susan for the past few years. On each of the three mornings I was there I created my very own latte with her pot and frother from Williams Sonoma. But it wasn't until I took the kids to Kim and Pat's for coffee that I saw a single cup pod/K-cup setup could be useful. I always thought that the best way to serve company was via the pot - but I was oh-so-wrong. The coffee from her Keurig machine was perfectly perfect. And then again, the next day, at Heather and Paul's house - my cup of joe made from a Hazelnut K-cup was fabulous.

But still, I wasn't convinced. Wouldn't it be more expensive to only buy the K-cups? Did they have some of my favorite blends - such as Green Mountain Breakfast Blend? And what about when people brought me coffee for a gift - what would I do with those beans anyway? Heather, and the good people at Keurig, had the perfect solution: a filter assembly called, My K-Cup, where you put in your own freshly ground coffee.

So I'm converted - and I just got notice this afternoon that my very own Keurig coffee pot has been shipped. I'm sure you'll all be able to hear my shout of triumph in the wee hours of the morning sometime later this week... keep your ears open wide.

Just for you Grandma Bev and Grandpa James...

2009-01-05T11:27:00.010-06:00

Christmas Morning 2008: Recipe for a wonderful day

1. Run to 817 to look for the presents from you.

2. See the presents on the conference table.

3. Jump for joy and excitement.

Thank you so much! We love you - Sophie, Lucy and John

We "breathe" skating in North Dakota

2009-01-04T17:52:00.009-06:00

In case you didn't know - it doesn't matter what the temperature is in North Dakota because outdoor skating is always available. The other night Carmyn and I braved the below zero actual temperature to shop some post-Christmas sales while Dave and the kids braved the outdoor rink and -30 below windchills shopping for some exercise. Fortunately, none of us were any worse for the wear - not even the checkbook.

Check out the breath clouds in the pics - no wonder my glasses always fog up in the winter.

Because Two People Fell in Love...

2008-10-20T10:05:00.007-05:00

My oldest sister, Tori, loves the saying - "Because Two People Fell in Love" - so I thought I'd post these pictures just for her and her 40something birthday today.

All because Mom and Dad fell in love we have:
Tori, Roxy, Marci and RJ

And because Tori and Glenn fell in love:
Ashleigh, Griffin, Brooklyn, Ben
And because Roxy and Don fell in love:
Katie, Kyle, Kylie, Charlie, Evie, Jesse, Betsy, Nate
And because Marci and Dave fell in love:
Sophie, Lucy, John
And because RJ and Katie fell in love:
Gabbie, Gavin, Gracie

What a wonderful family - thanks Mom and Dad!

Happy October - Photo of the Month

2008-10-19T12:05:00.002-05:00

One finished project, one unfinished...

2008-10-15T09:37:00.008-05:00

I managed to complete the Halloween quilt (begun in September 2007) in August - and it now has a place of its own on the living room wall. I'm rather pleased with it - but at the same time happy that it purposefully has a "thrown-together" look so my haphazard quilting style almost looks as though it was meant to be.

The following quilt, a baby gift for Abby Fay, was begun this summer - long before we knew if Abby was a boy or a girl. It was meant to be a "Take to the Hospital" present for Bridget and J.R.'s baby but instead I have a feeling it'll be a "Happy 1st Birthday" present for sweet Abby.

The part on the left has been somewhat stitched together but I've gotten hung up on the corner piecing and am already worrying about quilting in the ditch and Dakota seems to think the pieces on the bottom are for her to take off the design board and chew on. But really - all that's just plain silly - I just need to sit down and get the darn thing done. After all, winter's coming!

Dakota's Secret Garden

2008-10-14T17:50:00.005-05:00

When we got Dakota I promised Dave we'd train her to go "potty" in one certain spot - and I have - even though two weeks into the process Dave switched her potty spot on us. He originally wanted her to go at the far corner of 817's lot but when we realized we'd be tilling up the yard and planting grass and making a big old muddy mess, we thought it best to find a new spot for her.

That's how she got her own secret garden. It's a wonderful space between our old yellow garage and the neighbor's old green garage. Technically it's their space but it was generally unused and upon our asking and promising we'd keep it clean they were gracious and let us (I mean Dakota) use it. It's been a hit ever since.

I only wish we'd discovered it before we got Dakota - it would have made a great Secret Garden getaway for our kids... but now I guess it'll have to wait for grandkids... and that's yeeeeaaaaarrrrrsssss down the road.

Goofy Glasses, Goofy Kids

2008-10-12T20:17:00.004-05:00

First Day of School

2008-10-11T21:12:00.000-05:00

"All was fine on Belmont Road until the kids went back to school..."

This reflects a semi-calm moment following our whirlwind summer.

We saw the tagging of a Cooper's hawk in the alley behind our house. The kids, and sometimes the adults, bounced on the new trampoline. John and I built a cardboard pirate ship while the girls went north to the cabin with their dad and Papa. Sophie accomplished a back walkover. Dave and our trusty handyman, Mike, completed a paving stone patio at 817. I co-facilitated a four day RRVWP workshop in July. Sophie and Lucy performed in The Velveteen Rabbit in Cando. The kids can swim. For part of the summer I had budding playwrights on my hands, as Sophie and her pal, Juliet, led the charge to write a play based on a Magic Tree House book. Dave grew grass next door! Lucy taught all her stuffed animals how to read. John attended hockey camp--a true North Dakotan--he is on the ice, even in July. The kids had a picnic lunch under the largest tree in North Dakota and they helped their cousins build a treehouse all in the same day. Dave was home most of the summer for the first time in seven years. I walked the dog and picked up poop by the bagful. Dave and I had front row seats at a Twins game as part of our bi-annual Suite Night Event. (Thanks St. Peter!) And for the first time in years, I was up at 6 am most days reading the newspaper and drinking my coffee on the back patio, enjoying that quiet time of the day.

Dog Days of July

2008-07-06T12:55:00.005-05:00

Dakota has been such a treat for us. She keeps me laughing and has really found a friend in Lucy. Lucy loves to hold her and cuddle and in such a sweet eight-year-old voice say, "How ya doing baby?" She (as in Lucy) has been the surprise here - we just assumed Sophie would be the main caretaker since she's the one that led the drive to get a dog. But instead, we've seen Lucy shine with taking out Dakota, playing with her, and even picking up the poop without being asked. By the way - we can thank our friend Carmyn for all the pics.

We're now a family of six...

2008-06-18T22:59:00.005-05:00

Meet Dakota - a lovable and smart six-week old goldendoodle. Yes - in spite of everything I've ever written about not getting a dog we changed our minds and so far so good. She's getting plenty of loving, she's learning where to go to the bathroom, John hasn't broken out and I'm feeling like a mother of a newborn all over again. Except our newborns slept for more than two hours at a time.

We got the call on Friday night that it was our turn to pick a pup from the litter. By Saturday afternoon the kids and I were off to Bismarck (four hours away). But first we needed to stop at Petco and buy everything we needed for the return trip. It was pretty exciting - the kids had already made a list of everything we needed and we divided up the duties. Each child got to pick out one toy, John got to pick out the collar and Lucy the leash while Sophie looked for Puppies for Dummies. The only snafu was that in the rush I didn't check prices and ended up paying $12 for a kong toy that Dakota is much too little for. But she'll grow into it.

Three Cups of Tea - or One Big Foot in My Mouth

2008-05-06T17:32:00.003-05:00

I usually overeat at book club meetings – things like Kristen’s baklava are just too irresistible. For our next meeting, however, I won’t be eating any food because my foot has been firmly placed in my mouth. Why, you wonder? Because having only read (and then reread) the first 70 pages of Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin I made a total judgment of the entire book - I pretty much trashed it. But I couched my trashing with, “I love the message, I agree with what Mortenson was trying to do but I can’t stand the hero worship on the part of the author and the lack of responsibility Mortenson shows in the beginning.”

Well, I should have kept reading… and I’m so glad I did. I’m not sure if the writing style suddenly changed after the first 70 pages or if the enthusiasm and passion of my fellow book club members spurred me on… but when I got home from book club I picked up the book and started reading it again. Sure there are things that I, as an editor, would have taken out or done differently with the book, but overall I am heartened by this book in a way I haven’t been since March, 2003 when the US began Operation Iraqi Freedom. Maybe there is a way to make a difference in the lives of people – and it isn’t by forcing our values and way of life onto others – but to provide them with access to education that will help them see the good in others.

At the same time, we in America need to continue building understanding toward others. After watching a CNN feed of the bombing in Baghdad, Brigadier General Bashir Bas of Pakistan tells Mortenson, “You have to attack the source of your enemy’s strength. In America’s case, that’s not Osama or Saddam or anyone else. The enemy is ignorance. The only way to defeat it is to build relationships with these people, to draw them into the modern world with education and business. Otherwise the fight will go on forever” (p. 310). Could we just try working on things that way for once? Please?!

So, if you promise to try to wade through the first 70 pages of Three Cups of Tea and then take the message to heart, I’ll try and swallow the foot I earlier placed in my mouth.

Mocha and Scrabble

2008-05-02T17:52:00.005-05:00

Usually I'm not a big board game player - it might have something to do with the fact that I'm married to Mr. Competitive and for him the word game is synonomous with "it's all about winning." He's the guy that when I could talk him into running three miles with me he'd take off sprinting while I settled in for the long jog. A block later he'd be walking and I'd still be jogging my usual pace (and no, it wasn't a snail's pace!) but as soon as I caught up with him off he'd go - beating me yet again. It was very frustrating for all five times we ran together.

The same was true with board games - even before we were married. In fact we got into a such a big fight over Scattergories on the very same day he proposed that I'm surprised the proposal actually even happened. So - Dave and I don't play games together very often... and I've turned into a whinerbutt whenever anyone wants to play because I just assume everyone is as competitive as my husband.

But thanks to this morning, my tune has changed. This morning Theresa called me and said, "I'm making mochas, come over." I said, "I don't think I should - I still had a fever last night at 5..." She said, "Get your butt over here..." So I showered and walked on over... promising myself I wouldn't breathe on her. As she, Jane (her awesome mother-in-law who has been here for almost three weeks) and I sat around the fire Theresa suggested we play scrabble. I, of course, groaned. But you don't argue with Theresa.

So we played... and it was so relaxing and so non-competitive that I actually have the hankering to play again. There was some competition - but it was friendly and for the learning. For example, when Theresa put down "dap" I asked her about it - not because I didn't think it was a word (she is, after all a Scrabble guru) but because I wanted to know for future reference. At another point I thought I only had a five point play but once I put out my tiles, the two of them made it into a 24 point word. In between plays we chatted, laughed and drank our mochas... what a wonderful morning.

As for Dave, when he got home this afternoon I told him about the Scrabble game and guess what his first words were? Yep, you guessed it - his first words were, "Who won?" Some things never change.

Fire in the Kitchen

2008-04-05T18:17:00.003-05:00

I spent a lot of time in the kitchen today. Dave's out-of-town so I made the usual breakfast followed by parmesan noodles for lunch. Then I made brownies for a playdate and went to town with chicken pot pie and a special dessert made from the leftover pie dough smothered in butter and sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar. Everything was perfect - until I called the kids to supper and was dishing up the pot pie and suddenly realized I left the piedough in the oven too long and it was burned - as in smokin' black.

Sophie was in the kitchen with me and I grabbed the pot holders to get the pan out but when I opened the oven door flames started shooting out. I quickly shut it and tried to think, "Baking soda or not. What am I not supposed to do? I know there's something that seems logical to use that you're not supposed to...was that water or baking soda? Should I use the fire extinguisher?" I went to the cupboard and grabbed the soda - almost empty. I told Sophie to get the other kids and go to the front porch and then grabbed the phone, dialed Mom in Arizona, and got the extra baking soda from the fridge. Got the answering machine at Mom's. I hung up and dialed Anna's number and Matt answered. I yelled, "There's a fire in the kitchen - what do I do?" Matt: "What?" Then Anna got on with him, my panic rose as I opened the oven door again and flames shot out, higher than before, so I yelled again -"There's a fire in the kitchen , what do I do?"

Anna, calm Anna, said, "Leave it alone, I'll be right there" and Matt advised, "Put a cover on it." I hung up, got a cover, opened the door to more flames but got the cover on to get enough flames out so I could get out the cookie sheet. Then I grabbed another cover and smothered it some more and looked up from the stove to see Anna running to the back door, baking soda in hand. Matt was 15 seconds behind her. She grabbed the potholders from me and took immediate charge of the baking sheet while Matt started opening doors to get the smoke out of the house.

They're my heroes - my real-life heroes. And now my plan is to print out this link and post it in the kitchen cupboard. Feel free to do the same.

Spring School Pictures

2008-04-04T10:16:00.002-05:00

When did we become a society that is so egocentric? I know it’s been coming for a long time but it just seems like we keep finding new ways to go over the top. The latest for me is spring school portraits. Last year was the first time our school offered them – and my kids were crushed that I didn’t order any pictures. Well guess what – it’s that time of year again. Yesterday Lucy came home with a sheet of paper announcing that Spring Portraits were coming – it was time for parents to schedule haircuts for their kids and pick out outfits. When I told the kids we wouldn’t order any, one of them got very upset and said, “These are the best pictures ever – you get to sit on rocks and pose.” Another went on to say that all the other kids would get them. Well, I know for a fact that a lot of kids at their school won't get them - because they're too busy worrying about putting food on the table to buy pictures. I didn't say that, but I did lecture them. I said that their dad and I choose to spend our money on other things that we feel are more important - like spending time in Arizona with grandparents or going hiking in Colorado. Or on books. Then I added, "We buy the pictures in the fall but we don't need to be so frivolous and buy the pictures again in the spring."

Then I really went off on the whole, "When we were young..." and told them about the one time I got to have a real portrait taken - when I was a senior in high school and I got to pick out two outfits - one for the formal pose and one for the informal pose - and went with a photographer into real-live woods and had my picture taken. I pointed out that happened once and it was a huge deal and that I really don't think we need to have our pictures posing in front of rocks - real or fake - any more than that.

But now I'm thinking - even though I argue for the craziness of spring portraits - don't I still value pictures of the kids? Each year between October and December aren't you likely to find me shopping for matching outfits for the kids and making arrangements for our Christmas card photos? Don't we, each year on the first Sedona hike, stop at the "picture rock" (as John named it) and take a picture of the kids? Finally, just look at this blog - it's all about the kids and their activities and the way they make me laugh... or scream. So, really, how egocentric am I?

Maybe the difference is I value the pictures of them engaged in activity - like cooking or drawing or hiking or reading. But then again, maybe I'm just justifying my own actions.

The other possibility of why I'm so irked is that this is a school-sanctioned event. It may even be a fundraiser for PTO - I can't say for sure because I've been an on again/off again PTO parent this year. But really, there are far more exciting things for Lucy to be sharing with me than the announcement of Spring Portraits. In her backpack, along with the portrait flyer, was a telescope she made out of a cardboard tube that showed various constellations. We oohed and aahed over that. Also in her backpack was her newest library book - a new Magic TreeHouse book she was anxious to read aloud to John. (The day before she and John snuggled on the couch and she read to him for a whole hour.) So, my point is: shouldn't we, as parents, be spending our time with our kids reading or talking or doing homework vs. prepping them for their portrait session? I certainly think so.

Thanks for listening.

Relay for Life

2008-04-03T10:41:00.004-05:00

I don't normally do any solicitation on my blog - but here's one I feel is so very important.

On April 18th and 19th a group of us will meet at the Memorial Stadiuim at UND and walk/run for breast cancer. The money we raise will go to toward research and care for breast cancer patients. If you'd like to donate, follow this link and you can make an online donation. Thanks so much.

Belly Dancing and Breast Cancer

2008-04-02T16:54:00.004-05:00

Each year UND sponsors a Belly Dance Expo. During the event the belly dancing group demonstrates the beauty of the dance - and fundraises for a cause. This year the fundraising efforts went to fight breast cancer. Theresa was asked to talk about breast cancer awareness, but as she's still in the throes of treatment, she declined and asked me to talk for her. We came up with the following and this evening I stood in front of about 75 men and women and spoke. The information, I believe, is important for all of us to hear so I pasted the speech here. Feel free to share the information with any other women friends.

Four months ago a close friend was diagnosed with Stage 2B breast cancer. We were all in shock because we thought surely there should have been signs – like a lump or just a general “not feeling well” vibe. But there were no signs – none at all – as is often the case with breast cancer.

Here are some facts about breast cancer: 1 in 8 American women will develop breast cancer within their lifetime. That’s lifetime – so all the way up to ninety-year-olds. Of the 240,000 women diagnosed each year, close to 40,000 of those women will die.

Thinking about breast care now and what you can do to ensure your health will make a difference. Upon her diagnosis, the first words I said to my friend were, “I can’t believe it – you’re the healthiest person I know.” She’s an adventure racer, a belly dancer, a yoga teacher, and cared about the trans fat in foods long before anyone else. But all that proves is that we can’t take our health for granted and that there are some things we, as women, can do to further ensure our health.

For example,
For all women, but starting with young women, perform a monthly physical exam. If you’re unsure about how to do it there are cards available at your doctor’s office. It’s not enough to rely on your annual doctor’s visit and his/her examination.

Get regular exercise – at least 3 times a week for 30 minutes. Brisk walking is a good example and is enough to lower your chances of getting breast cancer by 18-20 percent.

If you smoke, quit. There are all kinds of reasons to stop, but the possibility of breast cancer just adds one more.

If you drink alcoholic beverages, do it in moderation. Two alcoholic drinks/day greatly increases your chance of breast cancer.

Get a baseline mammogram by the age of 35 unless you’re nursing or pregnant.
Then, at forty, get annual mammograms. Without a mammogram, because my friend had no lump, there wouldn’t have been any detection of her cancer until it had spread much further.

Reduce the stress in your life – activities like yoga and meditation go a long way toward stress reduction.

Finally, maintain a healthy weight. You can do this by eating well with a plant-based diet rich in fruits and whole grains. 10 foods that are known to help with breast health are: almonds, beans, broccoli, soy beans, spinach, salmon, flax seed, garlic, green tea and olive oil. Incorporate these into your diet.

For my friend, she’s got an 82% chance of surviving. But the amount of money and research and support for breast cancer is one of the highest funded areas of research and for that, we’re fortunate. But it’s still up to each of us to maintain our health.

Chalking Up Some Easter Eggs...

2008-03-24T12:11:00.013-05:00

Check out these beautiful Easter Eggs handmade by the kids - with the help of Grandma Kathy. In the spirit of Pioneer Woman Cooks, I'll lay out all the steps for you so you can try it for yourself next year.

Here are the ingredients - a dozen eggs, hardboiled of course. Chalkboard paint, a small paintbrush, and regular old sidewalk chalk.

First, take one egg and apply a coat of black chalkboard paint over its entire surface. This gets a little tricky, especially for those small hands, so we did use some plastic measuring cups (like you get from TANG) and placed the egg on it once one half of it was painted.

When each egg is painted, place it back into the egg carton to dry. Wait an hour or two before putting on the second coat of chalkboard paint. During this time you may need to turn the eggs a bit as we found they did stick to the styrofoam carton. This may not be a problem if you use a paper carton.

After the second coat, let the eggs rest overnight and then get out the sidewalk chalk and get creating. Once this step is done, take the eggs outside and holding the egg an arm's length away, spray it with hairspray to let the chalk set. If the chalk disappears, don't get scared. As the hairspray dries, the color will come back. Finally, arrange the eggs in a basket with colored grass and enjoy them. BUT - I wouldn't recommend eating them.

February Events

2008-03-12T08:46:00.015-05:00

Weekend Getaway with Mitch, Jackie, Zach and Maggie There was a whole lot of outside time, inside time and watching hockey time. Oh, and there was the "skinning the squirrel time" where Sophie held the book, Dangerous Book for Boys open to page 239 and read the directions for skinning a squirrel to Zach as he gave it a go. Meanwhile I was inside the house trying to keep my breakfast down.

Fat Tuesday Party
Our friends Michelle and Paul lived in New Orleans for quite a few years and fell in love with the city - so much so the walls of their house are painted in Mardi Gras colors... in a very rich and tasteful way. They hosted a party where the kids decorated masks, made floats and had a parade for all the adults. Our "prizes" from the party decorated the dining room table for the next few weeks.

Valentine's Day Fondue
After months of searching for a vintage fondue pot I gave up and bought a new one from Target. I would much prefer the orange or yellow or brown kind to the polished line of the stainless steel one but Valentine's Day was approaching and I wanted to start a new tradition here on Belmont Road. So I splurged and we had a wonderful fondue on Valentine's Day - complete with homemade angel food cake, big marshmallows, and bananas and strawberries. Yummy!

BRRRRRR! February here was unseasonably cold - even for us North Dakotans - and we spent A LOT of time hanging out by the fire. One night Dave called me into the family room so I could see that the girls had found the perfect mix - reading by a warm fire. After that there were often four of us reclining on the floor with books in hand - Dave still preferred the chair over the floor.

As of Sunday I think we're done with indoor fires until fall - during one of Dave's roaring fires the glass of one of the doors blew out. Luckily nobody was in front of the fire at the time and the glass blew into the fire. Then yesterday morning, while everybody was in the kitchen having breakfast, there was again the sound of shattering glass and Dave found a mess of glass all over the front of the fireplace. I called a local business, they sent a repairman over and the glass is getting fixed. But he told us one very important piece of advice I'll pass on - do not use the fire starter bricks in indoor fireplaces. Apparently they're made of wood shavings that are glued together - but the glue, when it melts, sticks all over the place and causes uneven heating that is dangerous. He suggested buying a packet of shims and using those for firestarters instead.

817 Here they are - the two guys that made it all happen. I tried to help as much as I could but I'm no match for these two. The house looks fabulous and Charlie and John deserve oh so very much of the credit. As for Charlie calling me an "old shoe" I'm still not sure how I feel about that - but he insists it was meant as a compliment. :)

Two Months of Tuesdays
Caprice, Anna and I finally finished Theresa's quilt yesterday and got it delivered. The ironic part is we delivered it to her on a day where it hit 40 degrees above zero and we were walking around without coats on. But I'm sure she'll still cuddle up in it and know how much she's loved and cared for.

Updated Pics from 817 (The BIG Project)

2008-03-11T20:48:00.004-05:00

As requested by Lori, Jeff and others, here are some pics of 817. (Just for you Jeff - our house is the brick one on the left, while 817 is the white house on the right.) Compare these photos of the dining room, living room, and kitchen to the ones here and I'm thinking you'll notice a change. I still have a second coat of paint to do on the entire upstairs, then sand that floor and paint it. I should probably also do a third coat in the main floor hallway because it turns out my color-blind husband is correct when he emphatically states, "I'm not a painter!". Then, I should paint the pantry, the cupboard under the stairs, the basement stairwell and the entryway. I guess I should also paint the patching that was done after the switchplates were put up. But all in due time, all in due time.

This week's "Guess What Was Cooking" game...

2008-03-07T14:45:00.001-06:00

Remember the last contest? The one where you had to guess the shape of the pie dough? This game is a little different - but still has to do with cooking and odd shapes. So, what's your vote on this lovely number that came out of the oven - is it turkey or homemade bread?

If you guessed homemade bread, you're a winner...but then again you were probably in the kitchen and could smell the aroma of fresh bread. I think I did a few things wrong in my baking - I used whole wheat flour without changing any of the ingredients, I let it rise too long, and I didn't form it into a loaf shape very well... or very tight. But, it gave the kids and me a big laugh when I took it out of the oven. And, it still tasted mighty nice.

One Week in February - the To Do/To Done List

2008-03-06T12:54:00.004-06:00

No quiet lunch date...

2008-03-04T08:54:00.006-06:00

An hour and twenty minutes into our lunch date (yes, how we do enjoy our long lunches) Margaret, Michelle and I were startled by a loud crack followed by shattering glass of the bakery window. We looked to our side and the window to the bakery was shattered, there was a man on the ground on the sidewalk and two cars were parked side-by-side on the street. From the next few minutes I remember some of what happened, while other events I can't. I remember being at the front door of the bakery, seeing the bicyclist, with a "What the h---" look on his face, starting to get up. I thought, "He'll be OK," and then kept looking around. Then I remember the sound of the car engine still revving, and saw the driver with his head back - passed out. I clearly remember thinking, "I can't go in front of the car because it's still going." So I ran behind it and opened his door - surprised it was unlocked. Yet his car was parallel to a small SUV parked in the street and I couldn't open the door all the way, let alone squeeze in to turn off the car. By this time there were others on the passenger side of the car. With my right hand I tried to feel a pulse on the driver's neck and with my left I pushed every button I could trying to get the other door unlocked so the others could get in to help the man. I remember being surprised at how smooth and nice and warm the man's neck felt. By this time, an older man was behind me and yelled for people to call 911. It felt like ten minutes had already gone by and I couldn't feel the man's pulse and all I was doing with my left hand was moving the car windows up and down. It was so quiet. The man behind me said, "Let me try," so I moved out of the way and let him in. I went to the passenger side and tried to break the window open. A man jumped on the hood of the car and tried to kick in that window and I remember thinking, "The driver's mouth is open, you don't want glass to get in his mouth." Another man used some kind of tool on the passenger window and said, "Watch out." I turned around so I wouldn't get hit by glass but nothing happened. I heard someone say, "Two pushes, one breath... two pushes one breath," under his breath and then yell, "I know CPR; I can do CPR." When I turned back around I went to the second car, the one that was parked in the street parallel to the incapacitated one and got in. The older man was still trying to help the driver and was right in between the two cars and I thought, "I should tell him so he isn't surprised when the car moves, but is it worth the time it'll take? Yes, I don't want to run him over," so I got back out and told him I was going to move the car. He said, "Good idea." I got back in. It was a stick shift. Crap. "I can do this, it should be old hat," I thought. But then I saw there weren't any keys in the car. I got back out and the owner of the car was right there and said, "Should I move it?" I replied, "Yeah, that'd be great." Then a woman driving by yelled, "My husband is a cardiologist - he's having lunch in there." So I headed to the bakery to get him, wondering why he wasn't already out there. Then I heard her say, "Oh, he's in the car already." So I went back into the bakery - to Michelle and Margaret and got wrapped up in a hug. The bicyclist was sitting at a table and was worried about his bike - it was indeed pretty mangled - but he looked OK. We went back to our table and stood there. All I could think was that I couldn't find a pulse on the man's neck and that in this whole time (which Michelle said was probably only two minutes) the man hadn't moved at all. The ambulance got there, the police were there and firemen were there. The bakery staff was cleaning up the glass that had fallen all over the two-top right below the window. We watched the ambulance crew undo the man's shirt and do something - he sort of jerked. Then they carried him off to the ambulance, one person had his legs and another his armpits. I started crying again, assuming he was dead. But nobody really seemed to know. We bussed our table, put our coats on and walked the block to the car - our voices shaking talking about what just happened.

There - that's my perspective on the events. You can read about the incident here (look for Pole Crashes Through Bakery)and get a better picture of the whole scene.

I can't stop thinking about it - about how everything I tried to do failed and how that short time seemed like ten, even twenty minutes. Did I make things worse by trying to help? Yet it wasn't a conscious decision to go out there. Why couldn't I find the damn door lock? Throughout the whole thing, I think the only words I spoke were, "I'll move the car," and "That'd be great." My mind was totally clear - almost white - yet my thoughts were racing. Instinct certainly took over - yet I had moments of clear thoughts. I noticed the handicapped sticker tucked to the driver's right side, the cane that sat on the passenger floor at a diagonal so the driver could easily grab it. The radio wasn't on, the car was warm and the driver was warm. But no pulse - at least not that I could feel. When Margaret dropped me off at home I went to Dave and made him sit while I tried to find his pulse - and was somewhat reassured when I couldn't find his pulse either. Then, I watched the 5:00 news, then the 6:00 news and finally the 10:00 news - the 81-year-old driver was in critical condition, but he was alive. And I felt helpless - no thanks to me was he alive. I tried to help - oh how I tried - but nothing I did seemed to work. People have said, "Maybe you spurred others to action." or "You tried..." but I still get shaky when I think about it and my heart starts pounding. If something like this happens again and instinct takes over I hope I remember something else - take a deep breath and slow down... and I'll have a better chance of finding the damn door lock.

I'll be back - just not tonight...

2008-03-02T20:58:00.006-06:00

We’ve had a rough go of it lately – chills, fevers and vomiting. Tummy aches and sore muscles. Then sore throats and hoarse voices. Besides that we’ve been plugging away next door.

Since I last blogged the project has turned into a home away from home. It has desks and chairs and rugs and bathtowels. It has painted walls, freshly sanded and varnished floors and new mopboard in every room. It has a brand-new bathroom on the second floor. It has pictures waiting to be hung. It has closets still needing painting and it still has a half-finished second floor – one more coat of paint to go on the hallway and bedrooms and then it’s time to sand that floor and give it a fresh coat of paint.

I’ve got hands that have to work to unclench themselves from a paint roller. I’ve got knees that are still black and blue because I thought I could “tough it out” and didn’t need to wear kneepads to be on my hands and knees hand sanding 1,300 square feet of hardwood floor.

And I’ve got a husband who, at 5 am or some other ungodly hour of the morning, will walk out our back door, stroll across the yard and through the side gate and find himself at work. Then, at about 7:15 he’ll join us at home for breakfast and we’ll walk the kids to school.

And the best thing is – he’s been so gracious about all we’ve (as in Charlie, John and I) done at the house and that’s helped make every single ache and pain of the past two months worthwhile.

Dave's Most Embarrassing Moment...

2008-02-06T21:37:00.001-06:00

Ever since I posted one of my most embarassing moments on the blog I've been pestering Dave to tell one of his. He was reluctant to (as apparently are all three of my readers) until yesterday morning when I was startled awake at 6:45 am. He flipped on the light and came racing up the attic stairs half laughing, half yelling, "You want to know my most embarassing moment - it just happened! I missed my 5 am flight and just spent the past half hour on the phone trying to figure out how to get to Grenada without having to rebook and spend $1,400." I heard the shower start and through half-open eyes saw him stripping down. "So," he yelled over the sound of the running water. "We need to decide - should I try to make the 8:00 flight, or should we fork out another $1,400?"

I am not one to wake up quickly - except when there's vomit involved and that's a whole different story - so I mumbled something and rolled over. And then thought, "Is he serious? Could he really have missed his flight? Should he really go today? After all, he was gone last night and the kids didn't get to see him at all and then he'll be gone until Sunday. Now he's going to miss the Mardi Gras party. He's not even packed at all - is he?? $1,400 - $1,400!!!" I jumped out of bed. He was already out of the shower and the scramble began.

We raced downstairs - the suitcase was already open at the bottom of the stairs, his shaving kit still in the travel bag from our weekend trip to Detroit Lakes, and clean clothes were in a laundry basket waiting to be taken upstairs and put away. I grabbed underwear from the laundry basket, he grabbed a pile of shorts and shirts from the futon and we just started throwing things in. I got out his shaving kit - he exchanged one razor for another and it was ready to go. He threw in work folders and a pair of socks. I questioned the lone pair of socks but don't know if we ever got an answer... I guess he can always buy socks if he needs them. I told Sophie she needed to get off the laptop (Webkinz you know) and she went to the chair and pouted, "Dad already kicked me off the big computer, now the laptop too!" He said "Sorry, sorry, sorry... Daddy made a mistake" and she realized we were rushing around so all the kids just got out of the way... eyes big watching us as we fired off questions at each other..."Do you have the extra laptop battery? Where is it? What about your work files? Where's your passport?"

His carry-on and passport were at the office - so we threw all the carry-on items, including the laptop, into a grocery bag. He hugged us all, kissed us all, said sorry for what seemed like the millionth time and with a "Just drive carefully" from me, he was out the door headed to the office and then the airport by a little after 7. The kids and I ate breakfast together, laughed a little at what just happened and before they left for school we got a call from Dave telling us he made it onto the first plane.

Whew - is all I can say. Oh, and I feel sorry for whoever was sitting next to him on the plane - he'd been running.

Embarassing Moments

2008-02-01T12:09:00.001-06:00

What's your most embarassing moment? I'm sure we can all come up with at least one but there are usually many more in our repertoire. To get the conversation going, I'll share one of mine from about 30 years ago. Here goes...

Motorhomes were the big thing in the late 1970's and early 1980's - my family had one that took us on trips to California and Mexico one year and Washington, DC and Florida the next. Grandma and Grandpa had a mini-version of the motorhome - I loved its quaintness and the cozy feeling I got whenever I was doing dishes in it or just sprawled out reading a book on the cushions. Sometimes when RJ and I were at their house we snuck in so we could pretend we were on our own with a camper - Grandma never liked it much when we did that.

One summer, when I was about 12, they took me, just me, with them on a weekend getaway to Killarney, Manitoba. I packed up my books and my bikini and looked forward to swimming and time with just the two of them. We parked close to the lake and set up the table and chairs in the shade and off I went to the swimming area. There were lots of other pre-teens and teenagers there - and they all seemed to be in big groups. I felt like I was the only person all by myself - and I was a little uncomfortable but not brave enough to go introduce myself to anybody. I just hung out on the beach and then decided to swim out to the floating raft in what seemed like the middle of the lake. I told Grandma I was going to do this and she said, "Are you sure? Be careful." I did my best American Crawl and though I veered off course a few times (as I always do with the crawl) I made it to the raft just fine. Once I hoisted myself up I saw a group of three girls sunning themselves - they were totally self confident and, I could tell at a glance, totally into their looks. Their hair was all wet and slicked back and they had perfect tans - you know the type.

There was a diving board on the raft and I made my way right to it. I dove off the first time, hoisted myself back up on the raft, and then did a flip, followed by more dives. When I got tired I decided to rest on the raft. I picked a spot a few feet away from the girls but I noticed them watching me as I walked over. In fact, I'd noticed them watching me every time I went to the diving board. I thought to myself, "I bet they think I'm pretty good at diving and swimming" and was thrilled when one of them stood up and walked over to me. I thought, "I bet she'll ask me my name and ask me to sit by them." I smiled up at her and she said, "Um, you might want to know that your top is up." My smile froze on my face as I looked down and saw the top piece of my two piece was almost to my collarbone and those breast buds that I was always so careful to hide were bare for the world to see. I muttered, "Thanks." Then I yanked down my top, ran to the diving board and dove in, heading to the beach. I stayed underwater for as long as I could, cheeks burning red and lungs ready to explode. I finally surfaced, grabbed my towel from the chair by Grandma and hung out in the safe refuge of the camper for the rest of the day - mad at myself for being so cocky and too embarassed to go back to the beach since I had no idea who'd seen my bare breasts.

So - what's your story? We'd love to laugh and commiserate with you.

Quilting for a Cause

2008-01-31T19:50:00.001-06:00

A close friend was diagnosed with cancer in December and a quilt for her is our latest project. Anna and I stole a pillow from her bedroom and picked out the colors. At the store I was in awe of Anna as she told the clerk we were designing a quilt and then figured out how much material we needed. At that point we were just going to do a larger flying geese pattern than the one we did in October. The clerk was quite dubious when Anna said we were designing our own, but so far it's worked out.

A few Tuesdays ago Caprice joined us with her quilting books and wonderful design ideas. We looked through her books and decided on the pattern - all I knew was I wanted to use flying geese and I wanted to incoporate pinwheels. We quilted all day long - it's pretty amazing what you can do with two people at sewing machines and one at the ironing board. Unfortunately the quilt has sat for the last two weeks - I've been busy at 817 and the flu has been going around town... need I say more?

But here's the pattern - I'm thinking it's beautiful - perfect for a beautiful woman.

817: Our New Project

2008-01-31T16:50:00.000-06:00

Our latest project is the house next door, or as we like to call it - 817. It was home to Eleanor and Charlotte until October and we purchased it the end of December. The house was built by Eleanor's father and she lived in it for 84 years until she died on June 23. She'd had a lot of dizzy spells and falls last winter but when she went to the hospital in early May we all thought she'd be back home before too long. After all, she'd been teaching piano lessons up until her last fall... and I guess I just really didn't want to believe she wouldn't be back home.

Charlotte was Eleanor's roommate (she's the one pictured)- they'd shared living quarters since the early 1980's. Before that Eleanor's roommate was Charlotte's sister Elizabeth - but when Elizabeth became sick with breast cancer Charlotte moved here from Michigan to help take care of Elizabeth and after Elizabeth died, she stayed on.

The two were a wonderful pair - both artistic naturalists with excellent minds and musical talents. They were night owls. Before Dave and I moved our bedroom to the attic I would "check" on Eleanor and Charlotte as I was getting ready for bed. I'd look out our bedroom window down into their kitchen window and usually see them at the table -having a late supper or cup of coffee. Reassured they were all right, I'd go to sleep. Later, though, after the girls took over that bedroom I felt more like a spy than a psuedo caretaker so I quit looking out the window. After all, they were 86 and 91 - they certainly seemed to be getting a long better than some of the younger people I knew.

After Eleanor went to the hospital we got to know Charlotte better. She often stopped by for coffee in the late morning or early afternoon. At times she spontaneously joined us for supper out on the patio - but that wasn't all that often since we're big meateaters and she's a vegetarian. She was always gracious and ate anything we could offer - whether it was corn on the cob or potatoes and carrots. She taught me to make a fantastic bread this summer and shared her knowledge of gardening.

When Eleanor died her house was left to her three nephews and since they would have had to totally update the house in order to rent it to Charlotte, they decided to sell it. Charlotte was wonderfully upbeat during this whole time. She spent her evenings going through books and newspaper articles, clothes, dishes, etc... Lucy and I spent afternoons with her going through books and putting them in piles: one for donation, one for Eleanor's family to look through and one to take with her when she moved. She found herself a downtown apartment that would take Erno, her cat. Almost everybody wanted her to move to an assisted living place but she told me she didn't want to live with all those old people. (Keep in mind Charlotte will be 92 on March 9.) So by mid-September Charlotte moved into the Opera House - how fitting as she is a pianist, a celloist and singer. The train tracks are right beside the building and when a train blows its whistle she hurries to the piano and presses keys until she finds the same tune. The kids and I have visited her a few times but it just isn't as easy as walking acorss the yard - now I feel as though I need to make an appointment and I'm not very good at that kind of planning.

When we heard the house was going to be for sale we talked with Bob, one of Eleanor's nephews and told him we might be interested in it. Our plan is to use the upstairs for "guest quarters" - it'll have two bedrooms and a renovated bathroom with a shower. By March Dave will be all moved in with his office occupying the dining room and another space in one of the main floor bedrooms. The dining room will have a big table that can be used for eating and projects - but will probably mostly be used by by Anna and me for weeekend quilting projects. I was going to have the other main floor bedroom be for my quilting things but have since decided against it. So it'll probably be a sitting area. The kitchen will be, well, a kitchen and for now, the basement will remain unfinished - who knows what it'll end up being. If you scoll down you can see pics of the house - before, during and after.

817 Main Floor

2008-01-31T16:30:00.000-06:00

The main floor of 817 consists of a back porch, kitchen, dining room, living room, two bedrooms and a very pink bathroom. Here are some before and during pics:
This bedroom will be some office space - it's nice and bright with windows on two walls. There's also a nice size closet. After the flood Charlotte used this as her work space and the walls were entirely covered with ideas for sketches and her nature artwork. In both this and the next room we did a lot of scraping, mudding, and texturing - just look at the ceiling for an example of what a lot of the walls looked like. There's a pic of me working on the floors - from the dust on the camera lens don't you think it's a good idea I have a mask on? I did!

This is the room that I was planning on using as my quilting room, but will now be a sitting room. At one point it held a piano and Eleanor taught piano lessons in it - later, she used it as a bedroom. We moved the chandalier in here out to the living room. There wasn't an overhead light out there so we had one wired up and this will match the dining room light. We also took out all the electric heaters as we had central air put in. At one point, probably in the 1950's, the house served as a model home for electric heat. Unfortunately, these old heaters were slowly going out - one section at a time. The heaters in these back bedrooms had apparently gone out and were then replaced by newer versions of baseboard electric. You can see the old electric ones in the pics from the living room (below).

Here's the living room. As dining room and living room were redone only about five years ago, mostly all we're doing here is painting and redoing the hardwood floors. In the pic of Dave doing the floors you can see a little of the dining room and the living room. What do you think of the color? You'd best be liking it because it's all over the main floor!

I don't have a good picture of the kitchen prior to it being painted the green color - but it, just like the living room and dining room, had been done about five years ago. In this pic you can see the back entryway - it (as well as the kitchen) was sort of a butter yellow color. We found original hardwood floor underneath two layers of linoleum and a layer of plywood so we tore it up last weekend and will get it sanded down sometime next week.

As you can see it was a family affair - the kids helped pull out more than 2,000 staples.

Sophie also helped do some more scraping in the pantry area - don't worry she only did it for about five minutes before calling it quits. Also - notice the mask and the safety eyewear!

Here's the pink bathroom. As we've spent A LOT of money on gutting and renovating the upstairs bath, this one will stay pink for awhile. Michelle came and helped me do some "wallpapering" of sorts - it's done with brown craft paper all crinkled up and then pasted to the wall - but I'm not really happy with it so we stopped. I've decided I'll finish the papering but then leave the staining and/or painting of it until Mom comes home from Arizona and can help me with colors.

There you go - that's it for the main floor of 817. I'll get pictures from the upstairs posted sometime next week.

Dinner with Henry and Kristen

2008-01-27T20:14:00.000-06:00

Last night we headed 30 minutes northwest of town to have dinner with Henry and Kristen and their two children, Melanie and Michael. They are friends who used to live only two blocks away - until they decided to build their dream house on a hill surrounded by about the only trees in North Dakota. And what a dream house it is - I like the way Kristen describes it as a "a four square with a twist" because that's really what it is. It has some of great features of the classic four square house we all love but enough of a twist to make it truly modern and unique and beautiful. I love that Henry designed a special shelf about 4 feet long just for all of Kristen's many cookbooks (look behind Lucy and you can see part of the bookshelf) and I love how proud Kristen is of Henry and his heating system (sorry, I was too busy eating and talking to get pics of the heating system!). It was a fabulous night - great food, great playmates for the kids, great conversation, and great people.

Women multitaskers...

2008-01-25T13:40:00.001-06:00

People often say that women are better multitaskers than men. I disagree - at least in my case - and this article highlights some research in the area.

To highlight my lack of multitasking ability, take this afternoon's lunch as a perfect example: Dave and I met at one of those sportsbar places with televisions everywhere you turn. I couldn't focus - not at all. I'd start to say something and a screen would flash a new headline and I'd read about the man who poisoned his wife of 14 years and I'd totally lose my train of thought. Within my line of vision there were six televisions - all playing something different. Total overload. It got bad enough that Dave and I switched spots so I could only see two televisions - and then only if I turned my head. But when we switched, he didn't seem to notice the televisions at all - nor did I find him gazing at the tv instead of my brown eyes. OK, you're right. For those of you who personally know Dave you realize he probably wasn't actually gazing into my eyes, but he truly was focused on our conversation.

Another example was last night as I was cooking supper, talking on the phone, and telling the girls to hurry with their snack and get ready for ballet. At one point my back was to the stove and I turned around to see the milk, water, and butter mixture for the mashed potatoes had boiled over and was spreading onto the next burner as well as the counter. I hung up on Steph with an "OMG, you won't believe the mess I've got here," grabbed papertowel, turned off the burner and started mopping up the mess. Then I did the smartest thing I think I possibly could have at the time - I turned off all the burners and left everything until John and I got back from dropping off the girls. This was hard to do - after all I'm the one who's always five minutes late because I just try to do one more thing before I get out the door. But I did it. And when we got home the phone didn't ring and John hung out with Dave while I finished up. Our supper was still ready when the girls got home from ballet and John got home from hockey - and the kitchen was clean.

But still, an example of how I can only focus on one thing at a time. So, the next time we're at lunch and you notice me gazing off into space and making no sense in my conversation, just offer to switch places with me. We'll all have a better lunch!

Kids and energy

2008-01-24T14:01:00.000-06:00

Raising children takes energy - so very much of it. Even at the ages of our kids(10,8,6) I still find myself so tired by the end of each day - this was something I thought would pass as they got older and I wasn't as "hands-on" like you are when they're babies or toddlers. But now the energy seems to be emotional - it's a constant guessing game about how they'll react to any given situation. The way I feel now reminds me of dealing with three male egos on a construction job three years ago. At that time I complained to Dave, "You, I can handle. But these other three guys - all with their egos that need to be stroked and it's just too much." Since then I've found two other contractors who are wonderful to work with and don't need a constant ego boost. But, I can't change out our kids, nor would I actually want to.

But I guess I need to mellow out and not take life so seriously. For example, last night I was exhausted and Dave was out of town. The kids were seriously messing around at the dinner table so after numerous warnings, I put them in bed at 6:30. Their homework didn't get done and no reading got done. This morning Sophie woke me up and told me Lucy was downstairs crying because she didn't think she could get her spelling homework done before school started. I went down and cuddled with Lucy until she wasn't so sad and assured her she'd get her spelling done. By this time it was 7:24 and first bell rings at 8:05 - important information to remember. Sophie was starting to make muffins - since she was just starting and they take 14-16 minutes to bake I told her it was too late for muffins. She was then in tears and had a dancing fit, yelling about how whenever she tries to help I don't appreciate it, and ran into the other room. I ignored her for about five minutes and then called her in to eat - she was then fine. As we're eating John started crying about something - I think it was that he forgot what he was going to say when one of the girls interrupted him. I was getting pretty irritated by now - but instead of yelling I said, "OK, now we're three for three with all of you crying. Should I cry now?" And I pretended to cry... getting a big laugh out of everyone. There weren't any more tears, Lucy got her homework done, a book got read and the kids got to school on time. Not bad for a Thursday morning.

I've had all day to think about our morning and congratulate myself on how well it ended up being - no yelling on my part at all. But, the cycle starts again in 45 mintues when I pick them up from school. How will they be this afternoon? I never know until I see them on the playground... oh, the energy it takes.

Trying to stay warm...

2008-01-24T13:50:00.000-06:00

I've got a new favorite spot in our house. It's a place to go when I'm chilled or just need a quick warm up. It's not a fireplace or the front of the open stove after taking something out of the oven. It involves a blanket and a cozy chair and a heat source and reminds me of Dad laying on top of the living room radiator at our old house, trying to get warm. Have you guessed the spot yet?

No, I didn't think you would; after all it's taken me almost three years to find it. My spot, as I like to think of it, is beside the small electric radiator in the family room. I move the rocker chair out from the wall and put my feet on the brick wall - about two feet above the radiator. Then I cover up with a blanket and a cup of coffee or tea and feel the heat reach my feet, then my calves and finally my entire body. It's perfect for reading, watching TV or even typing on the laptop - as I'm doing now. It's not so good for carrying on a conversation however. In that case it's rather like talking to a brick wall. Ha!

What's your favorite warm-up place?

Who am I?

2008-01-22T20:39:00.001-06:00

I'm in a reflective mood and trying to figure out all the hats I wear. I feel like it's all one gigantic juggling act and I really never was any good at juggling. So I'll do what I do best - make a list. Here goes:

mom to Sophie, Lucy and John, wife to Dave, daughter, daughter-in-law, granddaughter, sister, sister-in-law, friend, outreach coordinator for the Red River Valley Writing Project (RRVWP), conference organizer, book club organizer, teacher study group organizer, consultant for RRVWP, memo writer, volunteer reader at elementary school, volunteer writing workshop teacher in Sophie's class, wanna-be writer, author of four manuscripts - all only 1/3 done, newly appointed co-chair of Children's Writer's Conference, reader, quilter, friend, cooker of meals that no one in this household likes, painter (of walls, not canvases), general contractor of the house next door - by default, online shopper, planner, bathroom scrubber, sweeper, movie watcher, cross country skier, Curves member, always wanting to lose weight woman, blabbermouth, crier, yeller, classical music lover, organizer, baker, grocery shopper, magazine reader, three blankets at night woman, problem solver, muller, communicator, bread lover, phone talker, sleep lover, kid driver, swimmer, basketball player, party planner, coffee drinker, pear pie eater, listener, talker.

There you go - what's your list look like?

Stress Buster

2008-01-11T14:35:00.000-06:00

What do you do when you're stressed out? I organize, and then I organize some more. A friend of mine is sick, we bought the house next door and are renovating it, the girls have their performances in Cinderella tonight and tomorrow and Lucy's birthday was yesterday so Sunday we'll have a housefull of eight-year-old girls.

So I spent one day this week forgetting about all that and organizing our old Christmas cards. In many ways I'm lucky - Dave and I have been married for 16 1/2 years but I only have Christmas cards from 1997 and up (all the others were in the basement during the 1997 flood). I'm also lucky because I'd already put a few years worth of pictures in albums; I think that was right before John was born - six years ago.

This year I decided to follow the footsteps of Roxy and put them in a photograph box sorted alphabetically by the last name of the family. Each year from here on out the cards can get placed with the others of each family - and this way it's easier to see just how much the kids of our friends have grown and changed over the years.

Sophie was home sick from school so she took the last photo album I had and got cards from 2001 in it while I started sorting the cards by family. It took most of the day (with quite a few breaks) for us to finish but it was a nice way to reminisce. And now she has a wonderful sense of all the people we get cards from and their history/relationship to us.

Now (sigh) it's on to all the digital pictures stored on our two computers and a flashdrive. That one might not be quite so much fun. But I've got a stack of CDs and a CD holder just waiting for me to start working and that's something I can work on while I'm at Theresa's.

Looking for good children's books? Try here...

2008-01-06T13:09:00.000-06:00

One of the most important items on Sophie's Christmas list was a "really, good thick book." I tried to find her one - thinking about what she'd been reading and looking at various websites for suggestions. I semi-succeeded in the pursuit of a good book but in fact, all I really should have done was talk to her friend Sophia. It seems as though Sophia and her older brother Lucas always have a good book around. Today, after talking with their mom, I found the secret to their success - a book-loving grandma, a store in Milwaukee called Harry W. Schwartz and a catalogue called Chinaberry. I checked out both websites (Grandma K. isn't available to me)and they look wonderful - easy to use, full of categories for choosing books, and nice reviews. So, even though I haven't ordered from either yet, I'm recommending the sites to all of you - especially all of you with kids or grandkids.

He's definitely not my dad...

2008-01-06T09:41:00.000-06:00

Yesterday Dave and I took the kids to the outdoor rinks where we all laced up our skates and spent the afternoon playing hockey. Dave and John left early so John could play in his "real" hockey game at Purpur arena. So when it was time to pack the rest of us up I was in the warming house by myself looking for Dave's hockey stick. I found one that looked like his but wasn't sure so I interrupted the six 12- year-olds who were talking and said, "I'm looking for a stick - is this one of yours?" At that point one of the kids said, "No, it's not ours; it's probably your dad's."

Wait a minute - my dad's?! I laughed and said, "Oh, you mean my husband's! Thanks - you just made my day." They looked a little puzzled but I wandered out of the warming house with a big smile - and couldn't wait to tell Dave about it when he got home.

It's not the first time it's happened. Even though he's only three months older than me people just assume I'm much younger. Maybe it's because I'm only 5'2", maybe it's because with each month he's got more gray hair mixed with the brown while I turn to a major salon event every six months or so, or maybe it's because I was blessed with Mom's skin and don't have many wrinkles. I'm not sure what it is but it's been this way since we were first married. At that point I was used to people thinking I looked younger than I really was. But lately, I've been surprised when people don't realize I'm over 40.

When Dave and I joined the 3-day tour after his October meeting in Barcelona (see picture) I was surprised when, on the third day, I mentioned something about turning 41 in a month and the lady sitting next to me was shocked. Shocked as in thinking I was kidding. She thought I was much younger - as in within the 25-30 age range. I was shocked that she'd think such a thing - I mean, don't I at least act like I'm in my 30's? And what about our three kids - the oldest of whom is 10?

Another incident happened about five years ago while I was teaching at UND. Midway through the semester a student confessed to me that on the first day of classes she'd seen me talking with the other professors and thought that I was a student - and one who was already "sucking up" to the professors.

And finally, fourteen years ago... a neighbor came to our backdoor and when I answered it, asked, "Is your dad home?" As with yesterday's incident, I laughed and said, "Oh, you mean my husband."

All of this makes me wonder - what kind of judgments do we make based on first appearances? And for those of us who look younger than we really are, what kinds of things do we do to make up for those first impressions?

I know that after my student made her confession I started each semester off by rattling off my experiences - saying I taught five years here, two years there, been at UND for ten+ and then I let my students do the math.

I'm also not at all shy about telling my age - maybe as a way of letting people know I have been around the block and know a thing or two.

I try and dress my age - I certainly don't dress as though I'm in my twenties. I'm not exactly wearing "Mom" jeans (at least I don't think I am) but I'm also not a statement of fashion. Even when I would dare to wear tight clothes and mid-riff baring outfits I didn't.

But for now, I'm fine with people thinking I'm younger than I am. Let them lower their expectations and then be surprised with my knowledge or experience. For the most part I don't think about how old I look - I'm comfortable with 41 and think it suits me well. And the next time someone is surprised at my age I'll laugh and take it as a compliment.

Thank you Santa - whoever you are

2008-01-04T18:05:00.001-06:00

In early December I got an unexpected present from Santa - the object I've been wanting for over five years but have always been too cheap to buy for myself. Here's how it unfolded:

As I sat at the computer around 5 pm on a Monday evening there was an obnoxiously loud knock at the backdoor. I assumed it was Dave or someone else with a heavy load so I hurried to the door but when I got there nobody was to be seen. Instead, there was a large gift-wrapped box with the label, "To Marci From Santa." I smiled, looked aruound some more and when I didn't see anybody I picked up the box, surprised by its heavy weight, and carried it into the dining room. I set it down and peered out the dining room and then the living room windows - no one around.

For some reason I chose not to open it at the time. If you know me at all you understand the incongruity of that - normally I would have just ripped it open and enjoyed the moment. But I didn't. I waited for Dave to get home from work. Of course, we didn't take the time to eat supper or anything like that - the moment he got home I gathered everyone in the dining room and ripped open the paper.

The look on Dave's face, I think, was even more surprised than mine. You see, I thought it was going to be some old Christmas plates that I'd been wanting. You know the kind - you probably bought them at Dayton's in the early 1990's - they're clear with a sort of abstract green tree in the middle of the plate. Well, I have six plates but was trying to get a hold of many more. So - my guess about the present was that someone had bought new Christmas dishes and was donating their old ones to me.

I was wrong - very wrong. For in the box was a brand spanking new white Kitchen-Aid Artisan mixer. Yes, you heard me - a new mixer. It's a beauty.

The kicker of the whole thing is I still don't know who gave it to me. I have my suspicions - and Dave actually knows because the person called him and told him it was an "anonymous" gift but I should feel free to change the color if I wanted. He won't tell me though...and from past experience I do know bribery doesn't work with him.

So - to Santa (who may or may not be reading this blog entry) thank you so very, very much! Christmas cookies were a breeze and the bread has been awesome. I think of you everytime my eyes spy the mixer on the counter. You did it - you pulled a wonderful surprise present and I am humbled to have been the recipient. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Love, Marci

What Kind of Holiday Food Am I?

2007-12-05T09:24:00.000-06:00

You Are a Gingerbread House

A little spicy and a little sweet, anyone would like to be lost in the woods with you.

Take your own quiz here.

Remembering Mavis via a Christmas Ornament

2007-12-04T20:05:00.000-06:00

Even though the ears broke off this ornament a few days ago, I just can't bring myself to put it in the garbage. Which is quite silly of course - the sides of the reindeer's head are jagged glass and someone is bound to cut him/herself on it. But it was a gift from my friend Mavis - back in 1997, when Sophie was six months old and we didn't have any ornaments to decorate the tree because they were all lost in the flood.

I'm actually not very sentimental anymore - and I can thank the flood for that. It isn't that the only time I think of Mavis is when I see Mr. Reindeer- no, she's around in my thoughts at quite random times - like when I toast homemade bread and spread it with butter and cinnamon sugar, or when I see any sort of math manipulative, or even when I cook spiral rotini noodles. It's not that I can't put it in the garbage because of those sentimental reasons.

It's because of the eyes on the reindeer - they look just like Mavis' eyes - except that hers were a startling color of blue. The eyes must have the same shape, maybe eyelashes... I'm not sure. But everytime I go to put Mr. Reindeer in the garbage, I look at those eyes and think of Mavis... and I can't do it. They remind me too much of her - and she's no longer here on Earth to see. So, maybe someday down the road I'll nick my hand on the ornament. But for now it's here to stay - a special ornament from a special friend.

Cooking with Onions

2007-12-04T16:55:00.000-06:00

I never cook with onions - Dave has an unusually strong aversion to them and even though I miss them I make do. Besides, when I eat Jon Jackson's meatballs with onions they taste all the better. Some times when I cook I'll add onion juice or onion powder to a recipe. Not tonight though - no way. Not after the day I've had. So here's supper - a sirloin roast with carrots, potatoes and onions!
P.S. Dave's in Texas so he won't have to eat them - but maybe he'll get some of the leftovers. ;)

Laundry Troubles...

2007-12-04T16:31:00.000-06:00

After a week of cleaning, scraping and painting the basement laundry room and forgoing laundry duty I was excited to see the two grumpy men delivering our new washer and dryer last Friday. The deliverymen were unbelievably rude and crabby - and this after being 2 1/2 hours late in the delivery time. I won't go into it here but let's just say that I really believe that if Dave had been the one at home instead of me and the kids, they would have acted totally different. Maybe even (GASP!) a little courteous.

After they succeeded in getting the washer and dryer down the steps and setting it up they commented that a "cheap" part that holds the hose into the drain broke and I should get it fixed (see pic).

They then left with the words, "The dryer has been in the truck all day, it'll take a little while to heat up." I thought it was a strange remark but at the same time just wanted them to be gone. I got a load of laundry going (remember -we were without a w/d for an entire week - there was LOTS of laundry to do) and later on, when the same load was still damp after 1 1/2 hours in the dryer I became frustrated. It only got worse the next day when we realized there was, in fact, no heat whatsoever coming from the dryer. Finally, on Sunday I called the store and told them I needed a technician immediately.

The technician, Don, showed up today. From past experience I know he's a great guy and very helpful. It was no different today and he told me he thought the problem must have to do with the electricity so I then called an electrician. Russ came over and within a few minutes he came back upstairs and told me the problem was fixed - he'd plugged the dryer all the way into the 220 outlet.

I can't believe it; Don, I'm sure, can't believe it, and the store rep we were working with certainly couldn't believe it. We'd already had a long conversation about the two characters that delivered the set - but I'm sure he's had yet another one with them by now. He was wonderful though and immediately told me the store would pay for the electrician's bill when we get it. He then called Dave and apoligized to him as well.

I was just happy to having a working pair, thrilled in fact. I put in a load of laundry and couldn't wait to get it into the dryer - just to check things out. Imagine my surprise when I went to move the clothes to the dryer and this is what I saw in the laundry room: Apparently the hose that needed the cheap part came out of the drain and sprayed water all over the freshly painted floor.

I just cried, and then as I mopped up the floor and some of the new paint came bubbling off, I cried some more. Then when I moved the washer to dry out underneath it and the paint came right off in tracks, I cried even more. Throughout this whole ordeal I've gone through such a range of emotions - but the crying didn't come until today. Because, really, they did warn me about the cheap part so I'll take the blame for this one. But man, I'm ready for this to be over.

Kids and Decorating

2007-11-27T16:06:00.000-06:00

Even as I've been thinking about painting instead of Christmas decorating, the kids have been decorating for me. Here's the tree in John's room - all decked out from top to bottom: a playmobil angel (albeit on its side) at the top and handmade decorations throughout. They're pretty sweet... the kids and their decorations.

A house project in late November... are we crazy?!?!

2007-11-27T15:44:00.000-06:00

Yes. I think the answer is yes. But as with every other answer in the affirmative, there are reasons and justifications. You see our dryer is on the blink and this family of five really, really needs to have a working dryer. It's not like we didn't know this day was coming; three years ago when the dryer first began squealing like a pig when it started we got it fixed - to the tune of about $300. In other words, with the money spent repairing it we could have just bought a new one. We vowed not to make that mistake again - so for the last three years I've been researching washers and dryers, top loader vs. front loader, etc... so when the squealing started again we'd be ready.

That day came a few weeks ago and the brand new frontloader Maytag Epic will be delivered on Friday. But now we have to get the laundry room ready. There's my excuse for doing a house project in late November when I should be writing Christmas cards instead of painting. After lots of scraping and vacuuming (that's Dave going crazy with the vacuum) and 3 gallons of dry-lock waterproofing paint, I'm ready for the final coat - something called Vanillum - and then I'll paint the floor. It should be all dry and ready for Friday and the new washer and dryer.

Our laundry hamper will certainly be ready for help by then too.

Snow Tasting

2007-11-21T21:20:00.000-06:00

Some people have wine tasting, some have chocolate, and others have tastings for wedding cake, but here on Belmont Road we taste the snow. P.S. There really were a few flakes (besides Dave and the kids) hanging out throughout the day today.

Christmas Quilt

2007-11-21T21:01:00.000-06:00

When Mom figured out I was serious about quilting she suggested I try a rag quilt - she said they're pretty easy to do and you don't have to be so precise on your measurements. She's done quite a few of them and I love the look - the rag gives it such a well-loved, comfortable feel. Mom even had a pattern in mind, Oh Christmas Tree, that she wanted to try. So I found the pattern on the internet and ordered two of them from Saginaw Street Quilts. They came promptly and there the pattern sat, and sat, and sat... until two Tuesdays ago when I got started. And here's how far I am so far - stacks and stacks of 9" and 7 1/2" flannel squares interspersed with 5 1/2" squares of batting. It's been a whole lot of cutting and not any sewing up to this point. But the good news is... only 70 more batting squares to cut and then I can start sewing. Maybe the sewing machine will be whirring on Friday; but then again, the laundry room paint job is calling my name...

A new game for the season: Guess the Pie Dough Shape

2007-11-20T16:36:00.001-06:00

...a game not all that different from the "Lay on your back in the grass, look to the blue sky and name the cloud shapes." This game is even better though because after you've named the shape on the pie dough you get to lather the dough in butter, sprinkle it with sugar and cinnamon, put it in the oven for a few minutes and after it cools, gobble it up. It's an awesome treat while you're waiting for the pumpkin pie to bake. While you're at it you could pick up the book, It Looked Like Spilt Milk, and read it to your kids.

By the way, we determined that this shape looks like the USA. What do you think?

Babies in the House

2007-11-11T19:10:00.000-06:00

I awoke this morning to the sound of a cooing baby. No, it wasn't a dream; nor was it some kind of goofy premonition. It was actually the sound of two Chou Chou baby dolls that Grandma Bev gave to Sophie and Lucy years ago - it's just that Dave finally put the batteries back into them. When we got them John was just a few months old and the girls wanted (and badly needed) their own baby dolls to play with. The batteries went in initially but were soon disconnected. At that time one cooing, crying, hungry and softly breathing baby was enough in our chaotic household. But now that they're back, I kind of miss the sounds of a baby in the house. With that said, I just want to point out that nobody should be getting any ideas - it's not going to happen around here.

Back from Barcelona

2007-10-21T11:30:00.000-05:00

Dave and I are back - and it feels "oh-so-good" to be home. Carmyn and the kids had a wonderful time while we were gone but I think we all feel better to be together again. This homemade sign welcomed us on our return. Notice Lucy's drawing in the bottom right-hand corner: "Family Flower of Five." How creative. You can just see the emergent writer in John with his writing of random words he knows - in, the at... and Sophie always loves to practice her cursive.

After the kids were in bed last night Rose, our babysitter, came so Dave and I could have dinner at the "happening" local restaurant in town with two other couples. (It was a date set over a month ago - long before the effect of jet lag was considered and certainly long before it hit us.) In honor of the beautiful fall night and all the walking we did in Spain Dave and I decided to stroll downtown. What with all six people and two dogs we saw on our walk it certainly wasn't Las Ramblas but it was nice to have space around us again. I swear that is what I dislike most about traveling - jostling crowds and the constant maneuvering around people.

My feet were hurting (I'd taken an earlier walk as well) so Dave walked back home with Margaret and Jon while I caught a ride (in Emmett's car seat) with Michelle and Paul. What a nice night though - great people, great food, and great surroundings. It is really good to be home.