A Quiet Day

I would like to move this evening from typing in the dark and listening to the hum of the dishwasher to snuggled up in bed, in my pjs, watching a romantic comedy (which I hardly ever indulge in b/c it is so rare that you actually find a good one. But when you do...). So let's see.

Today was a real hodge podge. We went swimming at the river, where we saw no fewer than three snakes in the water, My reaction prompted a well-meaning, hippie friend to politely remind me that this is part of enjoying nature; "sharing with the animals."

On the way home from the river we were... and I mean this SO in earnest... almost rear-ended at 50mph by one of those enormous mud-derby trucks (which was apparently not noticing the car in front of me had stopped to make a turn). It was one of those times when your chest almost explodes with your racing heart and then you spend the next several hours looking at your kids and wondering where and what you would be doing at this moment if that truck hadn't squealed dramatically out of the way just in the knick of time. (This is similar to the moment last week when my sister was with the kids on a walk and an Explorer started veering toward them on the side of the road and swerved out of the way just in time. Yikes.)

Then Kevin popped in the door a few hours early and declared that he was taking us out to the buck-fifty and pizza. Girl said, "and ice cream?" and he said, "of course." So we spent a very happy afternoon NOT cleaning the house, as previously planned, but gallivanting all around town in the super-heat, watching Monsters Vs. Aliens and eating tofutti cuties in the back yard (and picking veggie from the garden: more cherry tomatoes, summer squash, romaine lettuce, and our first cucumber).

I created a peanut-butter-and-jelly smoothie for my kids this morning.

Peanut Butter and Jelly Smoothie

2 frozen bananas
1 (-1 1/2) cup vanilla almond milk
3 T peanut butter
1/2 cup frozen blueberries (or strawberries, grapes, or raspberries)
1-2 T pure maple syrup
1 t powdered vitamin C, optional

Puree until everything, including fruit skins, are smooth. Adjust milk and berries to taste and for consistency.

Enjoy! And good riddance.

Blues Blab

For my "birthday list" this year--with the big 3-0 coming up--I thought that I would make an anti-birthday list. I sent out an email to my family which listed "Things That Make Me Happy," instead. Once again, I am squashed. I really was just trying to think outside the box, do something fun and creative, and make other people (and myself) think. I mean, isn't that what we are supposed to do for people for their birthdays? Things that make them happy? And I felt really proud of my list because, far from exhaustive, it took a focus off of the negativity that has been my bed-fellow for several years and made me meditate on just how many things (and what simple things!) do make me happy. Plus, I couldn't help but notice, one could buy and buy from this list, or they could spend nothing but a little time, effort, or planning. Which is sort of what I was looking for, to begin with: love and encouragement expressed in my own language; services, gifts (even the simple ones).

Don't you remember how youth made everything so much shinier? For me, just a road-side meadow waving in the wind or a funny scene enacted at a WalMart or the smell of a pleasant perfume in the mall... I didn't feel that I had to be cynical or worried when I encountered the simple pleasantries of life, the good ol' joi de vive. What happens to us? Where does the laughter go? Why do we let the negative people in our lives rule the roost while the energetic, creative, outside-the-box people lose touch?

And, more importantly to me as I approach this aging milestone, can I actually reclaim my lost youth? Can I be both advanced in experience and full of joy? Can I relish the oom-pah of Latin music in passing or Christmas lights or wind socks or shadows or whatever it is that has historically made me happy? Can I somehow LEARN to see around or through the stressors in life (as in, can I see the clean dishes for the dirty laundry or the mowed lawn for the ripped pants)?

And, more importantly, how can I actually pursue JOY so that I can attain it, in some measure, more with every year of my life? I understand, to an extent, the root of all my problems, as a lack of understanding of the God of the Universe (including His Person as a loving, personal Savior, Father, etc.). But since I can not force God's hand in the matter, then is it pointless for me to keep asking for more wisdom and more peace and more joy? To be honest, I feel much worse for the wear when it comes to all three of these things, now. At 21... well, was I more joyful or more peaceful or more wise? When it comes to character (patience, charity, gentleness, discipline, etc.), I feel like such a 30-year-old loser. (Just have a couple of kids and do you're darndest to raise them right and you'll see what I mean.)

Oh, well.

Here is the list of random things that make me happy (NOT joyful, which I believe lies much deeper than the sum total of pleasant things in my life):

-linens (blankets, pillows, throws, rugs, curtains, etc.)
-artsy-crafty stuff (esp. painting, photography, cutting paper, and sewing)
-pottery (to use, not stare at)
-handmade stuff
-local stuff
-world stuff (esp. asian and indian, but really anything)
-conscientious stuff
-environmentalism
-re-purposed stuff
-vintage stuff
-massages (!!!)
-original artwork
-reading/books (literature, on writing, about food/nutrition, travelogues, etc.)
-soundtracks, world music, alt-rock
-clothes (esp. hippie clothes, fun tees (esp. with printed on items, like ties), jeans, re-purposed, vintage, etc.)
-shoes (esp. converse, new balance, birkenstocks, blowfish, and rocket dog)
-earrings (especially danglys and studs; )
-bags (purses, satchels, travel bags, etc. etc. etc.)
-scarves
-hair stuff
-writing
-cookbooks (esp. health/nutrition, world, veggie, etc.)
-kitchen stuff
-pretty yard things (twirly windmills, wind socks, giant metal flowers, etc.)
-wind chimes
-bright colors (esp. turquoise, apple red, pumpkin orange)
-pleasant smells
-hiking, camping, kayaking, canoeing, yoga, pilates
-good, healthy food (berries, cherries, cauliflower, shrimp, dark chocolate, tomatoes, herbs, coconut, Thai food...)
-the desert and the ocean (and the mountains)
-travel
-warmth
-journals (with no lines)/journaling
-my family, my friends, my babies
-Jesus
-philosophy
-pleasant smells (esp. fruity and food, oils, soy candles, and incense)
-philanthropy (esp. children, anti-slave trade, hunger, etc.)
-low light (like candles, Christmas lights)
-night time
-stars
-astronomy
-marine biology
-archaeology
-homemade things
-quilts
-the disciplines/academia
-singing
-swimming
-poetry
-wind
-flowers
-glass bottles
-sleep
-dancing
-musicals (and some plays, too)
-museums, coffee shops, libraries, readings, lectures, festivals, fairs
-encouragement
-cleanliness
-organization
-plans
-wood, glass, and metal
-squares, straight lines, circles
-assymetry
-shopping (and good deals)
-road trips
-holidays (esp. Christmas and halloween)
-physical labor (to a point, you know)
-water
-faces and feet
-movies (only good ones, like "Babbette's Feast" and "Yes Man")
-the food network (and iron chef)
-magazines (esp. food, nutrition, world)
-rocks and gemstones (esp. turquoise)
-roller coasters
-natural, pleasantly smelly cosmetics and toiletries
-photos
-Kevin
-good restaurants
-loyalty
-wisdom
-the Bible
-trains (esp. sleeper trains)
-interior design
-tea
-cooking and baking
-grape arbors
-real stuff
-adoption
-open windows
-office supplies
-getting really dressed up
-crystals
-giving gifts
-letters
-lists

C'est la vie. Comme-ci comme-ca. Good night and good riddance.

Not Really for Reading

Three of my specialties:

Crazy Bars (which are not only crazy b/c of the ingredients, but also b/c you mix them right in the 9x13 pan!):
-Cream together 1 cup peanut butter, 1/2 cup sugar, 1/2 cup brown sugar.
-Stir in 2 eggs and 1 t vanilla.
-In one end of the pan, stir together 1 cup spelt flour, 1 t baking soda, 1 t baking powder, 1/2 t salt, 1/2 t cinnamon.
-Combine with wet ingredients and add 1/2 cup cream, then
-1 cup oats, 1/2 cup dark chocolate chips, 1/2 cup raisins, 1/2 cup nuts (I like peanuts here).
-Bake at 350F for like 1/2 hour or so.

Hot Cocoa
1 cup milk (whole, "organic")
1 T cocoa (quality)
1 T maple syrup (real)
splash vanilla (real)
Heat over med-low, whisking. Don't over-heat. Yum.

Watermelon Leathers
Slice up a watermelon, de-seed, and throw the slices in the dehydrator for the whole day. My family LOVES these. Pull them when they are no longer moist but are chewy, not crispy. You can do this in the oven, too, but I don't know how. You can roast the seeds and salt them and use the rinds for pickling. Very thrifty, that.

Read With Caution

Suddenly I am in total bloggers' block. I never have bloggers block because you can write about anything on a blog, even about having bloggers' block.

I guess that means I should snag a "Crazy Bar" from the kitchen (a recipe that I made up the other day which includes usual cookie stuff plus peanut butter, oats, cinnamon, as well as raisins, chocolate, and nuts... Wowsah!), a glass of milk, and my latest read: Twinkie, Deconstructed. I am a little put off by the sheer size of the Cervantes I got from the library the other day. There are 101 things I need to do, but Boy is going through a takes-2-hours-to-put-to-bed stage and how do I manage my painting deadlines with that, I might ask? (Indeed, I suppose I am asking.) I am donating a small amount of each of the next 10 days to doing 1/10th of the office (which needs to be cleaned out, reorganized, and down-sized). And I have GOT to get this camera issue figured out; now my IPhoto does not want to open, try as I might. Is there not end?

Egad! I am so quiet here in the dark (trying not to re-awaken the curious toddler) that some sort of creature started moving about in the hallway! Aaargghhh! There are some things that I HATE about an old house, and mice (which is seriously what I hope it is since it actually sounds much larger) is at the top of the list! (with funny old smells and persistent ants). We have been battling the mice for a couple years now, and whenever we think they are gone, think again! And up to this point I have only once in two years actually heard them in the house! Once again, aaarrgggh! (Judging from the noise, it might actually be in the wall or in the attic, but I take no chances and close the kids' doors and then jump up onto the couch at the opposite end of the family room with the promised cooky and milk and book and here I will stay, creepy-crawly, until Kev gets home from work.)

Oh yuck yuck yuck.

Good night and wouldn't I love good riddance!

An Un-Heroine.

There was something I was going to share, but it seems to be lost in the fog of exhaustion. I have now graduated from the Anne of Green Gables series and am now on the Emily trilogy. I love L. M. Montgomery. I love her heroines. I want to be one of her heroines! When I was a girl, I thought that the trajectory of a charactered and talented teen like me was straight for a Montgomery heroine. Little did I suspect that I would fly out way off the mark (in a series of impassioned sizzles, I think), in the middle of temper tantrums, painful feet, even more painful bouts of materialism, and a messy, mouse-haunted house. How un-romantic and de-moralized is that? On that note,

good night and good riddance. And happy birthday, sis.

Did I Detect a Breath in There Somewhere?

It is well known that there are three house chores I despise more than any other: scrubbing out the tub, putting away laundry, and anything to do with the dishes (partly b/c of it's incessant repetition). Two days ago I had folded the laundry and then placed all the stacks in the rooms of their final destination. When I had put away the stuff in the kids' rooms and the hallways, I circled back to my room, where the kids themselves were snuggled up onto the bed watching our Netflix rental, Bolt. I stopped mid-sentence and mid-step in the doorway. Where were all the clothes I had just placed neatly on the bed? Girl jumped up with a look of unbearably-contained elfin glee on her face, and announced, "Mom! Look! I put all the clothes away for you!" Sure enough, all the clothes (a full half of them now ruefully un-folded) were compacted into whatever places were available to them on the lower shelves of Kev's and my wardrobes. I beamed at her, very touched that she would do a duty for me because she knew well that I did not like to do it. I said thanks and walked out of the room, to return only today to very quietly and stealthily move the clothes to their proper locations in the room. ;) Shh! Don't tell.

And speaking of hated chores, I found myself sighing to myself in the kitchen this evening. I had done the dishes no fewer than three times in two hours! Before dinner, I cleaned up the day's dishes. After dinner (Moroccan chicken with couscous and apricot sauce), I cleaned up dinner. And then, I served everyone up some special vegan cake with strawberries for dessert and had that cleaned up by the time Kev went to jam with a guitarist. Sigh!

Wading with trepidation through yet another month in the land of very tight finances, I find myself a little excited despite myself. It may not have been the soundest financial decision we have made this year (especially in light of the fact that a few very large, emergency expenses in the past couples months have basically obliterated our savings and we continue to hang on to the budget by the skin of our teeth), but we have sunk a little money into our upcoming romantic getaway. It is called the Icopod, and I think that it will suit us just perfectly. So basically, we are taking three days and two nights during our week in Michigan and leaving the kids behind with grandparents to get some much needed time together. Living in NC, I figured that we would make our way to a state park near Mackinac Island and stay there, seeing the sights during the day. I was recently informed through the family grapevine (and what a grapevine it is!) that we would need to reserve in Michigan. It turns out, much to my surprise, that there are no state-owned camping accommodations near Mackinac, anyhow. But the most popular place to stay like that is the 600-site, family-owned and -operated Mackinac Mill Creek Campgrounds across the water. So I looked into it, and a "budget" site (which I am pretty sure means on the freeway) came in about $30 for the two nights. A nicer sight, like $50 or so. Lakeside? Out of the price range. A small primitive cabin, we were looking at a little over $100, which sort of sounded quaint and doable for a romantic getaway that happens once every 2-3 years (the last time being fall of 2007 when we took off for the NC shore and ended up at this quirky little family-owned place a scant block from the water). Then I saw the Icopod. There's just one of them, which has an appeal all its own, although there a few scattered across the country. And it's supposed to be unique and architectural and environmentally friendly. Perfect. Plus, I pointed out to myself, there is a fridge and microwave (although no potty, go figure!) so we can solemnly vow to eat only one meal out the whole time we are there. Plus no tent to set up? No sleeping on the ground? But enjoying the beauty of nature and the joys of communal bathrooms? That more than makes up for the very doable price tag of $115. Right? (For the Icopod, see here).

I am also dusting off the ol' Flaherty Family Organization Book after almost a year so that I can start tracking household chores, doctors appointments, and birthdays, etc. without so much discombobulation. And I am starting back in on the Books to Read list I worked so hard at compiling last year. I am just going to jump right in with the most highly recommended book (by far), Don Quixote, by Miguel Cervantes. I was supposed to read this in high school, but there is no guarantee I actually finished it. Both my father-in-law and my globe-trotting, multi-linguistic high school Spanish teacher find the story life-changing every time they encounter it, and, to be honest (and despite some level of bookishness and gravity), I probably wouldn't have known a good novel if it punched me in the nose, when I was in high school.

That's a mouthful. Good night and good riddance.

The Rabbit Hole

Girl asked me today, "Do you know who is with you all the time, no matter what?"

And I responded, "You mean God?"

And--not wanting to wax theosophical at this particular moment--she said, "No, I mean your hand puppet."

True dat.

This morning I missed most of the sermon in church because Boy has been teething (his two-year molars, actually) and he was not letting me slip out of the nursery. But I did catch the pastor going through some thing about an offense that he had done someone and when he was asking God to help him deal with it, he was led down this sort of spiritual rabbit hole whereby he traced the depths of his particular offense to the roots of its origin (like back to Entitlement and then further back to Pride). I would go so far as to say that almost every--if not every--thing that is wrong with me and ultimately my life can be traced back to a lack of Theosophy. If I am prideful, I fail to understand just how enormous God is. If I am stubborn, I fail to understand just how in control God is. If I want a new house, I fail to understand just how loving and gracious God is (among other things). Truly knowing God as He is would, after all, predicate faith in God, wouldn't it? And yet, our complete lack of understanding and inability to keep our knowledge and compose it into one melodious whole leaves us with broken fragments of what it would take to help us live a life completely dependent upon and glorifying to God. But--as this argument must come back onto itself--complaining that I can not know fully is a failure to understand that God is wholly good and wholly powerful and wholly gracious and wholly holy (and that He completely knows and understands and orchestrates the conditions of our own very human need for faith without absolute persuasion). However, it does lead me to believe that there is a measure of faith to be attained through a life devoted to knowing God more. Ispo facto, actually read your Bible and meditate, idiot!

What else is there, really?

Good night and good riddance, perhaps.

Date Night, Supreme

Whew! Or whoosh! Or both. The last few days have just smeared together into a busy blur. I had the feeling every now and then that I would like to blog, but there was just no time for such things.

To note: Kevin has been filling out applications for nursing school.

And our 8th anniversary was Tuesday. He brought me home a coral colored rose and a bar of high-quality dark chocolate. Yesterday, my sister came out to stay with the kids and after Kev and I rushed about ("rush" being as always a little exaggeration on Kevin's part) finishing up dishes and making up guest futons, we headed out for a night of matrimonial bliss, Durham style. We went first to a locavore restaurant we have been wanting to try; Watts Grocery. On Broad Street, it proved to be as trendy, hip, and yummy as we anticipated. At $15 a plate, this was definitely a special occasion place for us: we ate outside, started with a gloriously large cone of home-made fries with balsamic catsup and an iced tea (me) and a Coke (obviously. Kevin would order a Coke with Olympian ambrosia!). I had the shrimp creole and Kevin had the largest and pinkest piece of meat I have even seen him tackle: a New York strip with an aside of black-eyed peas and dirty rice. It was awesome and buttery and juicy and tender and did I say awesome?

Then off to an undisclosed location where Kevin was supposed to pick up the gift he was getting for me. (I got him a pizza peel.) Turns out, the object does not exist. It was such a sweet idea, too. And why it doesn't exist, I don't know. I have actually joined a forum today to pose the question to other Anne enthusiasts: Is there really no singularly bound edition of L.M. Montgomery's works, or at least her eight Anne of Green Gables books? Huh. I would have really liked that.

So, then off to see Star Trek. It was really pretty good, but the Hulu girl looks so familiar that it is haunting me. Kev discovered late last night that she was the reporter in Vantage Point, but I just feel SO VERY familiar with her. Who can she be? Or who does she look like? She doesn't look that much like Jada Pinkett(-Smith?), does she? And why is it bugging me? Like I said, good movie. It makes you want to watch the old Star Trek shows/movies. Although I really think the voice-over at the end should have been William Shatner, as goofy as he is.

I am going to admit now that I really just want to fold up the laptop and crawl into bed with PJs, snacks, bubbly water, and Rilla of Ingleside. I am at my favorite book in the series and it is ever so much more appealing than trying to fix my computer or organizing the office. I believe that I will succumb to escapism. Where is my sense of blue collaredness?

It is sunk. Down, down, down. Wave goodby.

Good night and good riddance.

Eating Helps, But It Too Takes Money

This is a poor time to blog. I have dishes to do, an office to tidy up, there is a storm raging outside and my laptop is running out of power (and I don't want to plug in to the lightning). There are finances on the conscience and the mind. I know that we can make this budget work, but it is so hard to be always diligent. I have failed this month (and I am not the only one), and what does that mean? We can not do the things we want to do, but they are coming at us like missiles. My birthday party? Our trip to Michigan?

It is true that we have not owned a credit card since January 2008, so in one way we are victorious. In others... well, it is difficult.

My stomach is in knots and I want to go hide away with a book. Lately, it is always the book. But baby kisses do, too.

Good night and good riddance.

Of No Consequence

I am sitting in the dark, itching the spot on my leg that I just doused with old recycling bin water (while taking out the garbage) and longing to climb into bed with my water, left-over jalapeno chips, and Rainbow Valley. Or maybe we will watch Australia. Either way, I'm not sure why I am here in the glow of the laptop and not changing my PJ pants to crash on my comphy, red bed.

On that note,
good night and good riddance.

A Veritable Bug Zoo

Kevin should have started his drive home from work three minutes ago and I am just sitting down to blog from dishes and bills and laundry, oh my!

I have a question: how do organic farmers deal with bugs?!? Especially in NC, where everything grows like weeds, including both the veggies and the insects? I had just grown accustomed to calmly triple-rinsing my lettuce for slugs and worms when I got my first harvest of broccoli... and it was not pretty. Besides all those skittering (Hi, Heidi) pinchy-bugs/earwigs, there were SO MANY silk worms hiding up in the leafy tops that I wanted to cry. I am a city girl when it comes to bugs. so at one moment I am totally psyched, mentally tallying up the yard-fresh produce and pointing out little baby tomatoes to my husband... even sweating in the sweltering Southern sun as I lift 40 pound bags of dirt and hoe out mulch. Next moment, I am doing something akin to the pee-pee dance but much more vigorous as I poke broccoli stalks around a water-filled sink and watch the worms squirm. I repeat "Eew, eew, eew!" and even do some very girly gasping. My brother-and-law told me today that he has never seen me so squeemish. I am ashamed. I like to think that I can put mind over emotion in many circumstances, and I can buck up for just about anything: my father-in-law calls me a "steel magnolia," and not for nothin'. I realize that silk worms are not going to hurt, and bugs as a whole are good for the ecosystem thing. At any rate, my garden may just defeat me.

Here is my yeild so far:
2 heads romaine lettuce
3 waist-high stalks romaine lettuce
5 heads green-leaf lettuce
1 head red-leaf lettuce
couple pounds broccoli
2 banana peppers
tons of herbs: basil, Thai basil, mint (like crazy), dill, oregano, thyme, rosemary, chives, flat-leaf parsley, curly parsley, etc., which should keep up through the whole summer.

Growing:
several yellow squash
a few zucchini
5 heads red-leaf lettuce
at least 2 more romaine stalks
1 head green-leaf lettuce
lots and lots of tomatoes
more (gasp!) broccoli

Not doing as well:
bell peppers of all kinds
cukes
chilies
eggplant
cauliflower

The truth is, I just made a chili insecticide and sprayed yesterday. Was this too late for the broccoli? And I am trying to find the time to make a soap insecticide as well. Will this help? The beer-on-the-saucer thing seems to be working a little for the slugs and the aphids appear to have disappeared (I like that: "appear to have disappeared") after I put out petroleum jelly on plastic. I feel happy with the choice to garden organically. As for the reality of gardening, I really look forward to nice, smooth veggies that do not hide bugs.

Comments Wanted

Oh, Sometimes it is so hard to do anything on a weekend evening when I am alone with the kids. Maybe it's just the evening, but it doesn't feel right tackling dinner and other things (laundry, cleaning, etc.) when it is just Boy and Girl and I in the waning light of a grey and dreary day. I find Saturday and Sunday late afternoon-evening to be the loneliest stretch of my stay-at-home routine. That is one reason why I haunt my sister and brother-in-law on the weekends. Blah. So I will feed the kids cereal (!) and drag them to Lowe's for some parts for a broken lamp. (They really want to go and they thoroughly enjoy their time in the race car cart (they LOVE sitting that close to each other) and watching it get dark and the moon rise. They rarely get to see it get dark and the moon is full tonight, if it is a bit jaundiced.)

I can't imagine what else I could write about, so I will ask some advice from whoever might read this. Two things.

One (and I know that most my readers have already been asked this be email) is for music suggestions. I am looking for music that will move me. I generally like the hard end of alternative, music with strong instrumentation, and superior lyrics. I also love soundtracks and world music. I would like to find some "Christian" music that can tug at my soul or rip my chest open, but this may be asking too much. I have not followed the Christian music scene since I was a teenager, and then I stuck largely to ska and MXPX's cover songs (but I do enjoy Sixpence None the Richer and Over the Rhine). Back then, there were lyrics that touched me, but I stopped looking for music that was both lyrically strong and musically strong. And cool. I ended up listening lightly to some Christian pop in secluded corners and with much embarrassment. Where is the Glen Hansard of Christian rock?

Two. I am too tired to keep thinking. I got a new sewing basket and the garden is overflowing with chilis and lettuce and broccoli and I want to go to sleep (but I first have to wipe down the bathroom). Aye, me. Off I go to snack (with only 8 weeks to go until nighttime snacking is a thing of the past) and re-re-re-read my way through the Anne of Green Gables series. I'm already at her first baby, little Jem. Those books make me so relaxed.

Still, good night and good riddance.

Shockwaves

I am stealing the laptop from Kevin while he is in the bathroom shaving... and if you know him well, tap tap tapping his razor on the side of the sink. That will be a sound that pursues me for the whole of my life, I anticipate. Such a gentle sound, a familiar one.

I don't recall what I said I might write about yesterday, but I have limited time so I will just say that I am a little panicky: the NC government, or Senate, whatever, has taken a vote this morning and it looks likely that the budget for community services will be drastically cut. That means that even private companies like the one Kevin works for will be having to figure out some things (as in it is possible that 80 or 90 per cent of their business will be no longer funded or under-funded) and then big, across-the-board layoffs in the immediate future. Kev is hoping to beat the rush looking for jobs, but there weren't any to begin with, so, we'll just be here holding out breath and waiting. At least we know we have family enough that no matter how bad things get our kids will have a roof over their heads and food to eat.

And the economy keeps grinding to a halt.

And people with mental health issues will be hung out to dry.

And I ought to strain my homemade insecticide and climb into bed to fold laundry and sew Boy's hamper. What a life. Kev is asking what I am doing which means "I need to print out that thing."

Good night and good riddance.

Lame Excuse for a Blog

I should NOT be blogging tonight b/c Kev and I said we would convene at 10pm from our various house chores. Yuck, huh? House chores at 10pm? Such is the life of a busy couple with two little kids.

But there is a lot on my mind (and no, Mrs. Rose, I do not mean a piece of land), so I will need to get back to it soon. For one, I need to ask some opinions from people who might read this blog. Two, I need to blurt out about my messy-tidy self and the civil war that has been going on. Three, I might share a recipe.

Girl keeps saying to me lately; "You decide, Mom. You can do whatever you want because you are in charge."

Am I, now?

An Ordinary Day

Today was all laundry, laundry, laundry. I'm even almost caught up to the dirties, but that's to say nothing of all my other house chores. There IS something nice about doing laundry, even though my second-least favorite house chore is putting away clothes (the other is scrubbing the tub); I was in Boy's sunshiney room today, the cross-breeze full of outside noises (like birds, for example), the house smelled like watermelon (my specialty--Watermelon Leathers--in the dehydrator), and I kept bringing the still-warm laundry to my face to smell it and feel it... so soft, so hot. Even in the 90 degree weather I found myself slipping into one of Kevin's over-sized button-downs to be wrapped up in the heat and the freshness. Yum!

Speaking of yum, today's menu was pretty impressive. It runs:

Breakfast: Scrambled Egg Burritos with Cilantro, Scallions and Jack Cheese. OJ.
Snack: depending on who you are, bananas or watermelon.
Lunch: Raw Veggie Soup with chunks of avocado.
Snack: a handful of "raw" nuts and green tea.
Dinner: Roast Chicken with Sauce, Cottage Potatoes, Veggie Soup with Homemade Creme Fraiche, Pickled Beets.

Of course, the kids opted out of the lunch soup and afternoon snack in favor of... bread. Just bread. Hmm. Kids can not live on pickled beets alone. Or maybe they can, with the right supplementation. It was a bright culinary day, even if dinner was a little rich for the summer. Dinner also provided the next two nights' feasts: Chicken and Potato Casserole one night and Veggie Soup with Bread and Salad another. Ta da!

[In case you haven't noticed, we are no longer vegetarian/pescetarian after 8 years at it. There are reasons for this, and we are still what you might call "flexitarian." At any rate, we have very real specifications for our meat selection which include local and free range/grass-fed, and eat meat not all that often. But there it is. I might talk about that another time.]

I have nothing else to say for myself. Kevin went out to talk to some guy about a potential band and I have clothes to put away and then dishes to do (Kev please come home by then, Kev please come home by then, Kev please come home by then...). A lame start, but I had to start somewhere and we were out of undies around here. We'll move into cleaning the house and finishing up the garden before the end of the week. Hearing about the veggie and herb garden will be WAY more entertaining than laundry day. You bet.

Good night and good riddance.

Back from the... Something Un-Morbid.

I am going to do an eight minute blog to say that I think I am going to get back to it. Blogging, that is.

It seems that when I am so busy that I can't make sense of my life or keep on track, it MIGHT just benefit me to take even MORE time out of the day to blog. Sort of like praying or meditating... but different. The way this works? I actually feel accountable to the two people that follow this blog, as well as the myriad other individuals who might just happen to start following my blog. If they are on the edge of their seats wondering if indeed I can pull off two commissioned paintings, one art show, three day camp classes (two on cooking and one on writing), raise a toddler and a 4-year-old, take a family vacation and a short romantic getaway, manage a house and a household while my husband works seven days a week, usher us all through a 7-week crazy diet thing, AND turn 30 all in one summer... then I might just manage to do all these things, and more. Or at least I have the hope of making it into a best-selling novel when I fail among typed curses and laugh-out-loud predicaments.

So here we go again.

No Regrets

This is going to be a very lame posting, explaining only a couple facets of my blog disappearance. I have been journaling instead. Better for me, much sadder for you. :( I have also given myself some new rules, which I seem to need every once in awhile, and I end up with days too full to get to the blog at the end. Most importantly, I have been eking my way forward with the novel, since I told myself this was the year to finish it. So THAT is GOOD. 175 pages. And it's not bad.

I will probably return. Until then,

Good night and good riddance.

Installation Complete

I am done with all the furious painting, and the installation is up. I did not hang the wedding portrait, but I did finish one other small painting before time was up. Now... I have the stomach flu! (or salmonella, depending on who you ask their opinion). That means, once I can stop running to the bathroom to, well, you know, I have to start FINISHING THAT NOVEL!

Here is the info for the art show: it is at the Cup A Joe in Raleigh at Mission Valley, off Avent Ferry Road (right near Western Boulevard). It will be up all month, and 10% of the proceeds are going to Freedom Firm (see www.freedom.firm.in), or see the latest blog entry at the Human Trafficking Blog that I follow (and have been asked to start contributing to, incidentally). Here are a couple photos of the show, as well as a YouTube video taken by some random YouTube hobbyist that happened to be there upon installation. Keep in mind, I was very sick during the interview, and could barely keep my eyes open and my cookies down.

We'll blog more once everyone in the house stops losing their lunches.

For the video, click HERE.

Art Show Opines?

So here is the majority of my show. I should have one or two more done tonight. But I am looking for opinions. I posted the paintings in order of size, since that's probably how someone walking in the coffee shop would see it. Unfortunately, I think the strength of the paintings runs the other direction. Does that mean I should drop the largest? Or spend my last evening re-painting the female face on the first one? I re-worked it last night and it's much better, but being the focal point, it's just not very good. I could also use PRICE and TITLE help! I think I've priced a little low, b/c the economy sucks and I need the money. So here it is:

This one is "Wedding Day" and is about 4 feet long. I did it for our wedding portrait. Not for sale.

This one is about 3 feet tall and has some glass bead effects in it. Done about 7 years ago, there is a hidden image; an outline of my hips. Priced at $350 and titled "Hips."

Maybe 2 feet tall, "Dance" is priced at $225. It was painted this week. I fixed the baby face since the last posting.

Our newest painting--at one day old--is "Nature." A fan favorite, it's under 2 foot square and is priced at $200.










A Kevin favorite (who wouldn't love a painting of their wife zoning out?) is "Silence." Also painted within the past week and standing at about a foot and a half, it's at $200.












"Maria" and "Christina" were painted a couple years back, are a couple feet across, and are going for $175 each, or $325 together.












This last one is not the smallest at around three feet wide, but will be placed on a separate wall near the back of the shop. It was done a few years ago when I had studio time at Sips. I can't decide to sell at $400 or keep it in the family, since "Daddy" is another sort of family piece. (I have a hard time parting with paintings since I often paint the people I love and memories.)

Urgh!

Lindsay Lou

Well, I think this one is done. I wanted to stick it up here because I thought it looked uncannily (or cannily, perhaps) like who it was supposed to (my sister) and also like my mother. But I just do "stylized," like my aunt says. So it does and it doesn't. I have to think about the baby's face color.

Ta da!

Another day, another painting.

New Seasons

Here are some of the paintings that I am putting up in a Raleigh cafe next week. They will be up for the month of February. I decided to do a show on portraits, even though people are probably the thing I feel least comfortable painting (me, and many other artists, I'm sure). I usually stick to plants and bottles. I LOVE painting plants and bottles. And feet. Anyhow, here is the first painting I finished for the show. And then there is one that I might be about half-finished with. Everything is still apt to change. And then there are two portraits that I finished, what, two years ago now? titled "Maria" and "Christina." They are two of the gypsy girls that we took to camp in the Transylvanian mountains. I think, so far, that the three finished portraits are most well-suited for the show because I am going to use my artist's statement to educate a little about human traffiicking, and am also going to donate a percentage of any sales (in my dreams!) to a sort of half-way-home in India for victimized women. Not that the gypsies were traffickied, but I think the paintings look especially vulnerable, metaphorically gray, and feminine.

So I am largely spending all my "free time" (carved out with a chisel and mountains of determination) painting right now, and getting ready for the show. I am happy that Kevin said that he "likes what I am doing here" with it, even though he also said to "not worry about it. Do what you like." And I'm trying not to dwell on my audience but to come up with stuff that I might be able to sleep on. Between painting and Boy's sleepy-time acrobatics, I have been having disturbed dreams... the kind where you get a song or an idea stuck in your head and it keeps obsessively repeating until the morning. I hate those dreams. I hate those dreams. I hate those dreams. I hate those dreams. I hate those dreams. (See?)

But after this show is up, I am switching gears and re-engaging. I have promised myself that this is the year I finish my first novel. I have watched as others have their moments over and over through the last four years, as Benevolent (the working title) gathers computer-dust as a pretty-darn-good 150 pages. I have had enough. If I am going to be the type of person that works hard enough to publish and to publish well, I have to prove it now. I have stood by as my friend's story unfolded: as she and her husband purchased a historical fixer-upper and slowly widdled away at it and their finances over SIX YEARS! It is not even close to being finished. And I have said to her, recently, "Six years is enough! Six years tells me it might just be another six years. And then TWELVE? Do you really want to give twelve years to this? You're done. It's over." And that's similar to how I feel myself (sort of). I am not willing to go any longer without continuing the race, without fighting my way to the end. Which, fittingly, is also where I am in my Christianity. Since last year's whole anger phase and then the valley of the shadow of death, I am in a place of contending for my faith (and my marriage, and my family). For the past several months, I've been contending just enough to make it, to mature as I just eek along... barely. Again, I say, "Eight years is enough!" It's time to grow up. It's time to listen. It's time to obey. It's time to identify the Body and to intercede. It's time to fight the good fight. It's time to walk into the blessing. It's time to--and this is the best pictoral, I think--jump into this marathon and run as hard and steady as I can. Enough is enough! Enough "farting around," as I embarrasingly say way too much.

And we move on.

Following are two of the most compelling quotes from Michael Friedman's Hot, Flat and Crowded that I have read thus far:

"In the next twelve years alone, the world's population is expected to swell by roughly another billion people, and many of them will become new consumers and producers. When that happens, the law of large numbers starts to kick in--everything starts to add up to huge, notes David Douglas, vice president for eco-resposibility for Sun Microsystems. For instance, he asks, what if, once that newest billion are all here, we gave each of them a sixty-watt incandescent lightbulb?

"'Each bulb doesn't weigh much--roughly 0.7 ounces with the packaging--but a billion of them together weigh around 20,000 metric tons, or about the same as 15,000 Priuses,' said Douglas. 'Now let's turn them on. If they're all on at the same time, it'd be 60,000 megawatts. Luckily, [they] will only use their bulbs four hours per day, so we're down to 10,000 megawatts at any moment. Yikes! Looks like we'll still need twenty or so new 500-megawatt coal-burning power plants'--just so the next billion people can turn a light on!" (p.62, large print edition)

and

"To visualize this process, the California Institute of Technology energy chemist Nate Lewis offers the following analogy: 'Imagine you are driving in your car and every mile you drive you throw a pound of trash out your window. And everyone else on the freeway in their cars and trucks is doing the exact same thing, and people driving Hummers are throwing two bags out at a time... Well, that is exactly what we are doing; you just can't see it. Only what we are throwing out is a pound of CO2--that's what goes into the atmosphere, on average, every mile we drive.

"Those bags of CO2 from our cars float up and stay in the atmosphere, along with bags of CO2 from power plants burning coal, oil, and gas, and bags of CO2 released from the burning and clearing of forests, which releases all the carbon stored in trees, plants, and soil. In fact, many people don't realize that deforestation in places like Indonesia and Brazil is responsible for more CO2 than all the world's cars, trucks, planes, ships, and trains combined--that is, about 20 percent of all global emissions. [See National Geographics's 2008 article on Borneo]

"And when we're not tossing bags of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, we're throwing up other greenhouse gases, like methane (CH4) released from rice farming, petroleum drilling, coal mining, animal defecation, solid waste landfill sites, and yes, even from cattle belching." (p.68-69, large print edition)

Girl just called me from her afternoon with Aunt CiCi to tell me that she can smell candy in the shopping cart and that she can feel her "butt bone."

Good afternoon and good riddance.

Dark Ruminations

The world is a dimmer place after today happened. An old friend has Parkinsons. Consignment shops and thrift stores are taking a huge hit thanks to governmental legislation. And Jared Pike's version of Joe Cocker's A Little Help from My Friends has been pulled from YouTube. What is this world coming to? It turns out,

"I've looked at life from both sides now.
From win and loose
and still somehow
it's life's illusions I recall.
I really don't know life at all." -Joni Mitchell

Race Relations and Inaugurations, SI2K Style

The little artist's WikkiStix creation: Daddy Opening a VolleyBall Present.
And us having a snack at the Science Museum: we were forced out into the freezing cold to eat our snack, since we insisted on bringing foreign food into the place in the face of a price monopoly which sought to take advantage of its advantage.

Suddenly I have blog amnesia. Where was I? Where was I going? What am I doing here at the computer in the "office" in the dark and why does it feel so late? Why does the refrigerator smell funny? Does it always smell funny? Why am I saying "funny" when I really mean nasty?

(And as a side note: I spent two days last week completely emptying the fridge and freezer and sopping the whole inside with citrus cleaner. This was punctuated by Boy getting his foot stuck under the fridge (How?!) so fully that I went running into the yard to find someone to help me as it swelled up and turned red from my "helping." It ended with a sobbing Girl pulling it out... and I am ignorant of the details.)

Today was sort of a big day. We started off with a snow day (something like 2 inches!). The kids were excited and Kevin got to stay home. Girl went off into the yard bedecked in her New York winter duds and then came back in to watch the presidential inauguration over hot maple chocolate. This, too, she had been waiting for and was excited. After petitions for McCain at only three-years-old, she now relates almost daily that she likes that Barack Obama, who she calls simply "Obama" with such a familiar tone and a broad smile. She says, "everybody likes Obama." I wish it were that simple.

Photos from the south of Raleigh show that my sister and her husband have gotten more snow than us, by far. But my aunt tells me that last week Alabama was colder than Alaska. This is why we have the word topsy-turvy. Because sometimes it is.

And then the whole family piled into the minivan because mom needed bread yeast and also a couple tubes of paint. (While working on a piece the night before, I ran out of orange, and decided I needed a pink.) We stopped to pick up Igor on the way home, another evening anticipated as snowed-in and popcorn-filled. (Don't bother with Igor. You didn't hear about it because it was not so good. And it was also awkwardly inappropriate for children, at times. Awkward, since it is a children's movie. Hmm.)

Yesterday was sort of a big day, too. Kevin had Martin Luther King Day off from work (after a triple-shift on the weekend). We had a breakfast of crepes (one of Kevin's random specialties) with fruit spread, cream cheese, and/or Nutella. It took me back to nights in Jerusalem. I am not being facetious. Then we piled into the van (again) and drove to the Museum of Natural Sciences in Raleigh. We go occasionally, since it is free fun, and has lots of animals; sculpted, taxidermized, and alive. Girl has always been a mini-Francis of Assissi, and Boy is turning out to be a little AquaMan. He spent ten minutes plopped in front of a fish tank full of Sheep's Head Fish, pointing his chubby hand and babbling with a most serious intonation (while Girl and daddy took in the octopus movie). After having an incident with a lost purse (Girl's, not mine), we returned home to the smell of rising bread dough and all participated in the making of the Flaherty Pizza... a thing of both precision and sloppiness which is evolving with time and is as of yet to be perfected (despite the purchase of three pizza stones, three (or four?) pizza wheels, a cookbook devoted solely to pizza, and various recipes). We ate on TV trays (whew!), watching a kid's movie that I choose not to name. It was terrible, and Girl hated it, so we switched to Chicken Little half-way through.

Whether Girl understood the importance or meaning of MLKJ Day, I am not totally sure. What I do know, is that the little girl who once looked at me completely blank when I referred to skin color, asked Kevin a couple weeks ago: "Dad, is Kika (who is half-Japanese, half-something darker) half Senya (who is African)?" We're not sure, Girl. We're not sure.

Good night and good riddance.

Tires on the Gravel Drive

Okey. Okey. Okey! I was really busy the the holidays and all that, and then I just up and took a nice, long break from the blog. But then--if you can believe it--I actually got requests to continue on with my occasional and random ramblings. It's not that I have not had things cross the screen of my blog-dar, because there have been times of itchy typing fingers... to mix metaphors. But when I am deepest in ponderings and wanting to share I am usually absolutely not in the position to share with anyone over the age of four. Nothing against those under the age of four. They bring me an inordinate amount of joy, those two.

I suppose I should just pick up at this moment and catch up later if it is needed. Except that Auggie was adopted out. Did I share that? We followed him for a short stint in foster care and then he was adopted before he was even listed. Those pug lovers are a crazy bunch. In the best way: I trust their kind with my little Auggie.

I am currently gorging on chocolate chip cookies (to which I added whole wheat flour, wheat germ, and oat bran in order to make myself feel better) and waiting for Kev to come home from his second weekend with a triple-shift. Yowser! But he does have the day off tomorrow. And have my Yoga Toes on, trying to relieve some of my tendonitis pain. I just did yoga, actually, with my new Intermediate Yoga in a Box CD. I had to skip the Oms... they were excessively annoying, but I did the warm up and half the Welcome the Suns (or something like that) and (of course!) the relaxation at the end. I live for that part. How else can I justify laying on the ground just any ol' where, closing my eyes, and thinking about nothing? It's wonderful.

Afterward, I heard Boy doing sleep-acrobatics in the bed (which he does every night and scares the living something out of me) and jumped up to check on him. On the way by, I bumped the computer and "Here Comes the Sun" started playing at just the proper volume for a quiet night with sleeping kids. It was a very pleasant couple minutes that followed, especially as I strapped on the Yoga Toes and sauntered off (which, if you know Yoga Toes, is a terrible way to describe the hobbling that followed) to chug a glass of ice water.

A slow day. The pastor spoke about human trafficking, which is a lot of stuff that has already been on my mind, and then we re-created a pot roast into beef stew for lunch (the whole flexitarian thing at it's best). Played around with the kids, folded laundry. We watched Incredibles before bed and made those cookies.

Girl being precocious:

I got my siter-in-law's old phone at Christmastime, and the ring seems to be eternally stuck on "Bobby McGee." It started ringing a couple days ago at dinner, and Girl looked over at me and sighed. "Mom, I wish you were Bobby McGee, because I want to know what he is like."

We pulled up to a drive-through the other day (oops! Did I say that?) and Girl yells, "Mom! Don't pull up yet! They are going to see my boob!" I turn around, and sure enough, she's nursing her baby doll. Wonderful. I just gave her a big grin and ordered a curly fry and an ice water (flexitarianism at its worst).

Speaking of flexitarianism, the other day my sister and brother-in-law brought pizza over when watching the kids. They produced a pepperoni and olive pie, and Girl said that she wanted to eat the pepperoni. I said, "Well, just so you know, that meat isn't special meat: it may not have lived a very nice life." And she quickly plucked all the pepperoni from her pizza and flung them one by one across the table. I got a scathing look for that one.

The joys of things.

As If That Weren't Enough...

Auggie has been taken. After three unsuccessful adoptions over the course of almost a year (the first two had extenuating circumstances at the last second, the third proved to be too flaky for comfort), we finally looked into pug rescue. Surprisingly (to me, at least), the rescue could provide a far better adoption process and much more rigorous qualifications and accountability than we ever could. After painstakingly checking references and discovering that we were linking up with what might be the best dog rescue in the country, we applied to surrender Auggie just yesterday afternoon. By some alignment in the stars, the local representative happened to be heading to the rescue at 8am today, and roused us out of bed for a 9am pick-up. It seemed so abrupt. So disturbing... or disconcerting.

I now feel like beef jerky. Kevin asked me what that means. I said brittle and worn, and inanimate. But I still think beef jerky is better. It makes me sound like a jerk, too, which is a little how I feel. The crazy thing is Auggie will be happier. I was doing my best, but it wasn't enough. We have no money. We have no time. We have no patience. If anyone should be getting the scraps of us after four jobs and a skin-tight budget, it's each other and our children. Not Auggie. Poor Auggie.

It's like a death: a pet death. And like a pet death where it's your fault. I keep expecting him to come bounding around the corner. I keep thinking to myself, Better let Auggie in. Has Auggie been fed yet today? And I open the laundry room door, pause with surprise where his crate was, and is no more.

I have to admit, in response to the nagging feelings about feeding him, shuffling him, doing for him--even on this first day of absence--I sort of think, "Oh!" and then feel a weight-absent. But then I notice the hole.

Auggie is now a hole, which will undoubtedly grow over with time.

Disaster.

I'm almost too emotionally exhausted to blog, but it seemed like a more realistic option than staring at my gmail page and refreshing it every several seconds to see if someone was reaching out to me. Which I was doing.

It never seems to rain, but it pours. We really were getting very lucky with Kev's new medications, and were actually scraping by (maybe just barely) with the budget. We were even ready to make some new year's resolutions, including picking a new avenue for Kevin's employment and career. Then things careen out of control. I never was in control. I am humble now. I give. I fold. Please.

I feel sick with worry. Kevin has been laid off...sort of. They are remaining as vague as they can possibly can, keeping us teetering on a wire of maybe. And then, in the middle of our heroic panic, Kevin rear-ends a lady. Lord Almighty! Have some mercy! Kevin really looked like he might be able to get through this, one step at a time, and now? I can hear the tears in his voice. Did we need the straw-that-would-break-the-camel's-back?

I don't know what else to say.

A Couple Book Reviews and an Adieu

I have had things to say. I have had things to share. I even have a few scraps of paper left in the van from the holiday travels, with blog-headed jottings on them. When I gather the papers in, perhaps I will write about Orion rising over the West Virginian Mountains in the dead of night.

More recently, I have been reading. I am now in the middle of a quick, evangelical Christian, fiction, read--which is a genre I very, very, very rarely explore--but I seem to have misplaced it while the main protagonists are in the middle of a marriage crisis and the housewife is about to get romantically involved with the painter. So we will write about It Happens Every Spring when I happen to locate the book.

Since the loss, I read through Haven Kimmel's Iodine in two or three days. Mostly I read it that fast (and not due to an abundance of free time, let me assure you) because it was engaging, as Kimmel always is. I know that I have sung her praises on this blog before, but let me repeat that she should (and I would be surprised if she didn't) go down in the cannon of great American writers, as time proves her genius, which lies is her intelligence, her fluidity, her grasp of language, and in her sensitivity to her characters and ultimately to us all. This book was much darker than the Kimmel I have grown to love, but let me assure you that once you make it past the fear that it is yet another tome to the normalcy of incest, you will be rewarded. I did occasionally find Kimmel's coolness and academia a little distracting, but maybe this was because I kept wallowing in the truth: I could never write like this (not that smart, anyhow). As long as you don't mind the dark and the psychoanalytical, give it a read.

Am now reading Does This Clutter Make My Butt Look Fat? Also, not a usual read for me, but I was intrigued with the idea of shaving off the un-important in my life. (Uh-oh! There goes the blog!) It is way more a diet book than I anticipated, and is written so very poorly, but I am still considering taking the author up on his little "assignments." I would love to clean out my house and my life and find focus on the things that really matter right now. And don't ask me what that is. I have not yet done the exercise. But considering that I have accomplished absolutely none of my new year's resolutions from last year, I'm thinking that there is a disconnect between my dreams and desires and my doings.

That's all. I can't believe I could go forever without blue cheese or mushrooms. But I most definitely could. What makes those decisions in our lives, anyways? How complicated can we be? It turns out, very. People are way too complicated for me to wrap my mind around. Or, really, my mind is geared for something else, entirely, which is the way it often is with people like me. What kind of people am I? You decide. You're a mystery to me, anyhow.

Good night and good riddance.

One Blog in a Million Intentions

I'll have you know I think about blogging multiple times on any given day. It's just that actual living gets in the way. Just now, I want to blog, and yet watching the perennial favorite Love Actually, eating baked beans and lemonade, and snuggling up to a peacefully sleeping baby late in the evening is getting in the way of such important things as entertaining and educating the masses.

And it's been some part of an hour since I wrote that last sentence.

And then ten minutes or so. We have moved from the Portuguese house-help and the writer to the best friend and the pretty bride to the president and the "chubby girl." And then I'm off again...

No use making myself blog about my daughter's 4th birthday (and how many times she told me that she got three things that she was wishing for (a "real" computer, a "real" camera, and not one but two Hannah Montana things) and how she kept telling me thank you for the Hannah Montana blanket that I made for her "because I would like Hannah Montana!"), or about Kevin coming home in a bit and how I can't get over how giddy I am lately about him being the Kevin that I married in so many ways that were lost in the muck of bipolar for what seems like a very long time...

Zoning out. Gotta go enjoy my night "off."

Good night and seriously good riddance.

Just a Quote

"Commitment is something grander than sticking around to work out problems. It is saying to your partner that he is your number one priority, not necessarily the person who provides the best sex or is the smartest or the wealthiest or most fun to be with. Like a parent to a child, you're dedicated to the relationship, not just the person, to making it work despite obstacles. You're also willing to sacrifice some of your preferences for the good of the relationship. Your partner is saying the same things to you, and for both of you the relationship is not so much a contract you can't escape but a team you won't quit... You come to appreciate each other's differences and learn from them, explanding on who you are in a way you could not have done alone."

A quote from Unhooked, explaining some of the better things in life that the younger generations are largely missing.

Posthumous Title

Picture: Tonight I chose the most recent photo I've taken. It is not from my camera, but from the camera we bought Girl for her birthday. Ah, the camera fiasco. We bought Girl a much-desired camera for her third birthday, but--even after all my research--it took terrible photos, and we returned it. Bought another camera. Returned it. Then hit a financial whirlpool and silmultaneously was discouraged my research that indicated all kid cameras were yes, durable, but not meant to be more than toys. So the camera slid to the back burner and now that it is Girl's fourth birthday, we finally got back to it. After more research (and hopes that companies were coming out with new and improved stuff for yet another holiday season), I found out quickly that not much had changed how I had wanted it to. Kids cameras are still essentially toys. So Kev and I came up with the best thing we could: we bought Girl a grown-up camera, used (and for a steal), and also a water-proof case to keep it in. Genius! When the camera came in the mail, I got all giddy, and immediately pulled it out of the peanuts and snapped off a couple photos, the closest thing to the kitchen counter being the sesame seed hamburger buns I had just baked. The camera is wonderful, and uploaded to my computer with no glitches. Thus the buns you now see, and Girl's birthday party is Saturday! (Speaking of Girl, we were at a dinner tonight and she called me into the bathroom off the kitchen, where everyone was lingering over appetizers and mulled cider. I closed the door behind me and she yells, excited, "Mom! I went poop! And it's huge! AND IT SMELLS LIKE A CARROT!" Thanks for sharing.)

Doing: Getting ready for the birthday party, including cleaning the house three rooms per day. And totally missed an appointment to take the car in this afternoon. I might be a little spacey sometimes, but I don't just miss appointments. Big oops. Also checking lots of things off my growing list of things to do, taped to the spice cupboard in the kitchen.

Weather: It's actually getting cold. But sunny. The leaves must be inches thick on the ground.

Eating: I don't know. I went to a potluck tonight, and what did I contribute? Mashed acorn squash and white sweet potatoes with cinnamon, garlic, yogurt, butter, and salt. They were actually quite good. I just finished them off cold for snack.

Feeling: Man, I have been out-of-sorts. But today I am at least motivated.

Sleeping: Am playing catch-up after a weekend that was especially lacking in that department. I was staying at my sister's house to be with my dad, and was up late to work and to watch about ten different people make turkeys on the Food Network, and then had to wake up super-early when the rays of sun hit the kids square in the face hours earlier than is normal. (Recall, we have no windows in our bedroom.)

Reading: Just finished Unhooked, by Laura Sessions Stepp. It was very interesting to me. If the "hook-up" culture, modern teens and/or young people, and/or female sexuality interest you, then I would recommend this book. I am just perfectly puzzled by the hook-up culture, and by the sheer recklessness and rugged individuality of generation Y. So this book was very engaging to me. It was an easy read, and very informative. There is much that you do not know about the hook-up culture, unless you are somewhere between 12 and 24. And I do mean 12. You will want to tether your pre-teens to your leg after reading this book, but it's the type of thing I would wish every parent would read long before their kids get to this stage. Am currently reading A Year Without Made in China.

Fantasy: Auggie being adopted by the perfect family who sends us a Christmas card every year with their family photo--including Auggie--and a little update on his health and life.

Poem: That is not happening tonight.

Good night and good riddance.

101 Things to Do With Macaroni and Cheese

First off, you can make your favorite box of mac and cheese with things other than milk, like sour cream or yogurt. Then, add...

-cooked peas
-cooked cauliflower, and/or broccoli
-salsa
-cooked, ground meat or fake meat
-shredded cheeses
-leftover chili
-diced tomatoes
-scallions, olives, tomatoes, and cilantro (and even black beans)
-hot or not dogs and mustard
-baked beans
-marinara
-canned tuna
-bread crumbs and parsley
-lots of ground pepper
-hot sauce
-caramelized onions
-pintos and red sauce (topped with onions)

Alright, so that's not quite 101. But living with people who LOVE macaroni and cheese when you don't--and cooking every day for small kids--you might see the benefits of coming up with options to add to it. Of course, Girl doesn't actually let me add to the whole pot, but if I can stir in a little something to my own bowl, this sometimes makes me happier.

*As a note, I use Annie's Mac N Cheese, not Kraft or anything else. So if you don't think these additions are appropriate, then whatever.

My Word Is Good

After three days with sick-needy-grouchy kids, I have about a hundred things to do. So I will attempt to make this blog brief and oh-so-interesting. I am going to blog during the time it takes me to eat this ginormous slice of my Vegan Chocolate Chip Bread. Then I'm going to go do the dishes and clean up my room. Maybe. I just got a new bread baking book AND I am totally engrossed in reading Unhooked.

I seem to have misplaced the little list I made last night about all the things I wanted to blog about to catch up to myself. Hmm, hmm, hmm. (And time is wasting.)

I have recently read Kaline Klattermaster's Treehouse, by Haven Kimmel. If you haven't read any Kimmel, I would recommend her, quite strongly. She is an excellent contemporary author, and also happens to live in the same city as me. I have been to her readings a couple times, and I think that I would actually enjoy getting to know her. Sometimes, when I fantasize about doing my own readings, I try to imagine that I am as witty and fluid and cool as Haven Kimmel. And maybe even as funny. In reality, it wouldn't take my publisher long to figure out that putting me out in public would be a lot worse for sales than just making me show some cleavage on the back cover of my book. But back to Kimmel: Recommended. Klattermaster was a youth book, but still good. Most of her novels are for the grown-up market.

Other things to recommend: bread machines. And Dinosaur BBQ cajun spice rub. And Chinese Sambal chili sauce. Can you tell that I am hungry? Plus, I sound like Oprah. And my eyes are itchy. And I just stuck my last bite of Chocolate Chip Bread in my mouth.

So good night and good riddance.

At Conclusion: Both Kids Up and Dishes Still Undone

There is a part of me that actually wants to be straightening my bedroom, folding and putting away laundry, doing the dinner dishes, and sweeping the floor at 1030 at night. And there is a part of me that wants to be doing something I love, like sipping a hot tea while reading and coaxing Kevin into massaging my feet while he's distracted by a movie... or writing or painting or sewing or even making and sending cards. There is a part of me that wants to go collapse into the darkness that is our window-less bedroom, cover my head with the sheets, and fall into a stupor until one of our two sick kids wakes me up with a middle-of-the-night need. Right now, I am doing a bit and a piece of a few of these things, and then also none of them. Although, sick as I am, I can never seem to get to number two, because I am always stuck at number one. Always. And that is a disease.

So I am writing my blog (which I do enjoy), and I have to pee (and putting this off seems to be another disease of mine, which drives my husband crazy), and I am thirsty (both, really? How astonishing). I have a chore list about a week long, and something smells in the laundry room, despite the fact that the laundry is all clean. Mysterious. I haven't blogged in so long that my pre-blog thoughts are falling over themselves to make it into this post. And so I randomly snatch one up...

I have just finished reading The Vaccine Book by one of the Dr. Sears boys. I would highly recommend it to any parent, and before they even birth. But I already wrote a review on Good Reads. Then again, I didn't expound on any of personal interactions and thoughts.

I think that the thing most on my mind at the conculsion of reading the Afterword (yes--I read the afterword!) is how no matter what decision you make about vaccinations and your children, something terrible could still happen, and then you would have to live with that decision. There is no choice that really lets you off the hook. Therefore, there has to be another way to live with ourselves in this time and culture.

I mean, besides vaccinations, what about microwaves, radiation, plastics, diet, medications, affluence, materialism, media, schooling... ALL the things that we now know so much about and have to make decisions about? I believe that while there may be nothing new under heaven, there really have been simpler times. And for a guilt-a-holic like me, there really were less land-mined times. Once again, there has to be another way to live with ourselves (besides making all the right choices and watching our children float through the perfect lives we made for them).

We have to be imperfect. And to tell you the truth, we don't really want perfection for our children, anyhow. They are not perfect, and some things that are so desirable are really just ways of softening our children and making them selfish monsters. I need Boy and Girl to understand things like persistence and abstinence and responsibility. And even if I don't, there is just no padding them from things, really. We all know that as much as we might plan and organize and obsess, what we map out is hardly ever what really happens. Vaccinations or not, my kids could get any sort of disease or have any crazy thing happen to them. I hate to even write that--because I do so much to avoid their pain--but it's true. And--say it with me one last time--there has to be another way to live with ourselves.

There will be struggle for us all, and pain, and unexpected all-sorts-of-things. Sometimes we may not even be able to extract the good from the terror (as in, now my kids are wiser and better because of so-and-so). I, fortunately, believe that there is peace, hope, and love (and even joy) that transcends. I also believe that if I meditate on the source of peace and hope and love and joy, I will find more of it. And I believe that the source also actively participates in giving me all these things, as well as strength and wisdom and all the other fruits of the Spirit. So read the Bible, pray, and otherwise interact with the Creator of the universe. (And yes, He does exist in the personal form of Jesus Christ). And that, my friends, is the way to live with ourselves.

Duhn duhn duhn duhn duhn duhn duhn...

I might just have to say tonight that the soundtrack for Once is the best CD ever. Glen Hansard is awesome (as my three-year-old would say... while she's humming the Jeopardy theme song).

Besides that, the punch I made for our little bonfire get-together would really make a wonderful mixed drink (even though I don't really drink mixed drinks). And Cafe Luna in Raleigh is yet another pretentious-for-nothing restaurant. You'd think they'd never seen a baby before. And let me tell you something: their shrimp is rubbery and if that's their house dressing, they'd be better off purchasing a bottle (or 100) of Annie's.

I'll never get to the good stuff if I hang around this laptop all day.

Good night and good riddance.

Ramen Noodles

If you have known me for long (as in, before I was into healthy eating and vegetarianism), you know that I have had a love-hate relationship with ramen (pronounced ray'-min or rah'-min, depending on your roots) noodles for a very long time. I love them: I can eat three packs at a time, lick the inside of the spice pack, and who can resist the price? I hate them: they are loaded with MSG (which I am mildly allergic to) and sodium, the best flavors are meat flavors, and they make me dehydrated and nauseous after eating. Starting in college, I would actually go on "ramen noodle fasts" for weeks or even months, to keep myself from making them my primary food group. I have even been known to have a symbolic burning of the ramen (or trashing of the ramen) in the front yard.

These years, I have Muruchan (my favorite) ramen about once a year, maybe. I have tried various other, more healthy, brands (that don't make me nauseous, at least), and have come up with a small list of much more expensive packages, that do not taste near as good as the fake, salt-laden crap that I love. At the top of my alternatives list? Thai Kitchen, at 99 cents and not really even a similar taste. Kevin does enjoy them for a cheap, easy, lunch, however.

This is my solution, which pretty much works okey for me in a pinch (that is, a time, money, and craving pinch).

RECIPE

1-2 squares Chinese egg noodles from your local Asian grocer
mock-chicken, chicken, or other boullion powder
soy sauce
salt

I boil the noodles, because I have never found that Asian-soaking-noodles thing to work well. Then I add the rest to taste. The soy sauce gives it a little depth, the salt, that characteristic saltiness.

Then, depending on time and resources, embellish any of the following ways:

-Serve with sambal (Chinese chili-paste/sauce)
-Serve with kimchi
-Stir in peanut butter (dissolved in a little water) and/or peanuts
-Serve with a lime wedge
-Serve topped with cilantro and/or scallions
-Garnish with raw veggies, like shaved carrots or thin-sliced bell peppers
-Stir in sauteed garlic and/or ginger
-Add tamari instead of soy sauce
-Add teriyaki instead of soy sauce
-Stir in white miso
-Boil in frozen veggies, like peas or edamame
-Serve with peanut sauce
-Add cooked protein of choice (like shredded chicken or beef, or golden tofu, etc.)

It pretty much works. And sometimes you realize that there are ways in which real noodles with some chopped herbs and veggies actually tastes better. Enjoy!

Maybe next time I'll post my 100 Thing You Can Do With Mac-n-Cheese. :)

Things I Like About...

Things I Like About This Current Time and Culture:

1) Road trips.
2) Easy, affordable, and quick travel.
3) Knowledge at your fingertips.
4) Putting all that knowledge together gives us the semblance of a bigger picture.
5) Movies. Like dreams, only sometimes better. And with soundtracks.
6) We know why we should be grateful.
7) We know what needs to be fixed.
8) Advances in philosophy, mathematics, and of course, science.
9) We share our beauty through art, literature, fashion, architecture...
10) We understand the mistakes that have been made, sort of.
11) Choices. Freedom.
12) A justice system for all the people (except the suspected terrorists, that is).
13) The eradication of certain diseases, and a much lower infant and childhood mortality rate.
14) The melting pot.
15) Electric stoves and fridges and fans.
16) Washing machines.
17) Music with depth, talent, and variety, that we can turn up really loud.
18) Chapstick.
19) World spices. World medicines.
20) Driving with the windows down on a sunny day.
21) Photographs and the smell of new film.
22) Christmas lights and scented candles.
23) Painless communication across long distances.
24) Ink pens.
25) Typewriters. Maybe even word processors.

I'm sure there are others, but I'm trying to think of the simple little things I love, and everything that is just now crossing my mind is so traditional, so old; I'm thinking of weather and nature and water and stars and things that have been there for all of us. The other things I am thinking of are a facade: like locking things out of the house at night, convenience food, and strapping kids into car seats. Which I think is tomorrow night's blog: Things I Like About Times and Places Extraneous to This Current Time and Culture.

Kevin's Going to Know I'm Not Working...

But I just need to note that there has been a miracle. A small one, maybe, but the kind that escorts hope back into your icy heart. BOY HAS STARTED TO CRAWL! Okey, so he's only nine months and this doesn't seem that exciting until you realize that all week I have been torn in two worrying about his having to see a therapist next week for his "weak muscles" and the worst that he/she might report: that there is something neurologically wrong with him. We will still have to go ahead with all this, but crawling is such a positive move forward for his "weak hips." And as a further note, he just decided to suddenly crawl across the whole family room floor on the very day that people across the country (Michigan, New York, North Carolina) were all working together to pray for him. So it is a miracle, just like every other wonderful thing that our children do. Every step, every smile, is a joy unique. And hallelujah.

I Made Cake, and Ate It Too.

It was a tiramisu cheesecake, which is great, and everyone seemed to love it, including my sister's mother-in-law, who it was for. And then they asked for the "hidden ingredient," which they joked that I always had something surprising and unappealing hidden in my cooking... and I had to admit that the cake was made in the crock pot, included tofu, and had no eggs. They got me. But I got them: it didn't taste anything but "lighter" than the average cheesecake. Yum. I think the Germans liked it fine, but I'm sure it all tastes different than they are used to. Shrimp scampi with pasta and a green salad was way off-the-wall for them, too.

I called the pediatrician first thing this morning to ask him to assuage my rampant fears. He really did no such thing. He basically clarified that it could indeed be something very serious with Boy's muscles, but that he did not see any other reasons to be worried besides the hips. He just wanted a PT to let him know exactly what muscle group they suspected, if there were any others, and if the hips were indeed weak. Then we just watch and wait over the next several months. It's funny, when we were pregnant with Boy, we were forced to get our ultrasound at a hospital, and they warned us that he might have Downs Syndrome. This hardly phased me, although it suddenly crossed my mind right after he was delivered, and I asked about it with a little trepidation. But now, the prospect of him having a debilitating disease is just terrifying. I think that now that I know him and am in love with him, it is more devastating to think of something like this; especially when I see him look to me so many times a day with this unquestioning love and complete trust in me. How could I face such a betrayal of the world to him?

I'm pretty sure it will be all right, that he just needs a couple sessions of PT to strengthen his lazy little hips and then maybe even learn to crawl and be released from that constant frustration. That would actually be good, although it would usher in the whole stage of mobility and every crazy thing that that entails: child-proofing, chasing, restricting, constant attentiveness, etc.

It's all in a day's work.

I Am Supposed to Be Making Cake

I really am only writing because I feel guilty (why?) about not writing in awhile. Stupid, stupid. Guilt: the mark of the modern mother. And modern everything. I'm getting a little (no, a lot) fed up with the information age. Like that: I can't even write a sentence without building in a dose of guilt. I imagine Mrs. Rose, my highschool AP English teacher, standing there and re-articulating for the 32nd time that "a lot" does not mean "much," but "a piece of land." I think of her almost every time I use "a lot" and every time I almost do, just like I think of so many conflicting and burdensome things when I am reaching for the perfect spaghetti sauce (which might just be homemade, no less!) or dreaming about a future home or noticing a sniffle or... I am in a constant battle with my own desires--no matter how noble or pure some of them might be--and with Dateline. What more can they offer me to crush my world? Believe me, whatever it is, they will.

Which is sort of what is on my mind, tonight. It was a simple transaction really; a quite brief and routine visit to the pediatrician. The doctor is not concerned that Boy does not crawl yet at 9 months, but that his hips might be weak. He prescribed a visit with the physical therapist. I really like my pediatrician... but what 9-month-old have you ever heard of going to the physical therapist? As the day ground slowly through the hours, the little interactions of the visit and many other events kept playing in my head and by night fall I was feeling alone and scared. Every time that Boy looked at me and grinned his spectacular grin, I felt that he was sensing my pause to greet him with the same. How much I know this is not true: but he is THE happiest baby, and won't there then be a reckoning, a balancing of the scales? (Then I unconvincingly tell myself, there are people who walk quite blissfully through long lives, and there are also those who live in misery from start to late finish. Justice, in many ways, is not for this earth.) And now that I have run over every worse scenario in my mind, and heard the question over and over that someone else asked me, "Well, will he walk?"... I'm not even sure where that sentence was headed.

I just love my son, and I am scared, and I am feeling resentful that I live in a time where our best intentions are often thwarted to destroy us.

PayPal is Becoming My Nemesis.

Picture: I just feel overloaded with photos. And I'm irritated that I can't find a simple camera battery anywhere I already frequent.
Doing: Being a family on a Sunday. We skipped church beccause there is so much to do around the house, especially in the yard. Kevin finally finished piecing together the play set that we got from freecycle like two weeks ago. It's great. Girl has already asked me at bedtime if she can play on it tomorrow. Also, we left the house around the same time Kev did for work. We went to the Chapel Hill Festifall, and handed out freezing cold bottled waters to passerbys... for free. The only thing asked of the person was that they take a little card that said something about Grace Church on one side and said something about Charity Water on the other side. After that, we met a lonesome Lindsay (Dan left for Alabama for a few days) in Apex for dinner and a little leisurely shopping (for kids' underwear and socks--woo hoo!).
Weather: Okey, so I really thought that we were in the 70s for good, but the morning forecast was all wrong: by the time we got to Festifall in our jeans, it was well into the 80s with not a cloud in the sky. We sort of roasted our butts off. Good thing there was free water. (Girl was a hit at the fair, handing out water and cards at 3 1/2 years old and big blue eyes. Boy just clung to my side as I toted him around the crowds for an hour. His 21+ pounds made my arm sting something fierce.)
Eating: We're still up at 8am and sharing a family breakfast. This morning was oatmeal with toppings (like frozen strawberries, walnuts, milk, raisins); morning snack, while working in the yard, was a choice between banana bread (with apples) and black bean salsa with homemade tortilla chips; lunch was the big meal of the day, and we had Vietnamese Pho (noodle soup) made with wheat-meat and topped with scallions, cilantro, and bean sprouts; for dinner I once again succumbed to my one meal out in forever at Red Robin (I don't even like Red Robin). I had a veggie burger with marinara and aioli and veggies on focaccia, with a side salad (yes, I actually took a pass on the fries).
Feeling: Not really thinking about feelings, but I am exhausted, and I was going to take the night for myself when ordering two things online ended up jeopardizing an hour and a half! and I'm still not even done. And now it is my bed time. You do the math.
Sleeping: Sleep will never be the same with small kids. I should just know this by now.
Reading: Nothing but a couple of Food and Wine magazines I got from freecycle. The whole reading thing was going to be part of my night to myself, but, again, that has been shot.
Fantasy: Sleeping however I want in the bed, for however long I want to. And then not feeling guilty or hurried while doing it.
Poem:

STRESS IN THE MODERN SENSE

PayPal and I have been
tugging
back and forth all night.

CedarCide and I have been
having a battle of the wills
for hours.

It's a war on the laptop.
It's this little icon rotating and
rotating
round and round all night.

And here I am
all alone
in my warfare.

A Hasty Posting.

Let us see if we can do
an answer to all
in the (poor) form of haiku.

Picture: I discovered a few shots
of family in tent
being a family is.
Doing: Auggie day means Auggie day.
Bathing, Cooking, then
Laund'ring, more: all for Auggie.
Weather: Driving on the road with the
windows open all,
I heard the skitt'ring of leaves.
Eating: Soda bread, jam, cheese, hot tea;
pea soup, left over;
Basil-pepper pizza, Noods. (!)
Feeling: Like a hamster, the usual:
running and running
around on the wheel of guilt.
Sleeping: Now that Boy has healed his ears,
We all sleep and sleep
till Girl wakes us for cartoons.
Reading: Only the trusty Bible
and the last year of
painful journaling, crying.
Fantasy: Never having to clean this.
Maybe better yet:
Never feeling I have to.
Poem: That's been done.

Dorawinian Celebration

I did it!

I actually woke up, walked to the kitchen after a quick trip to the bathroom to make sure I could see out of these ridiculously near-sighted eyes of mine, and then made this simple breakfast: put on hot water for tea, sliced up some homemade soda bread, thin-sliced some sharp cheddar, and set it all out on the table with blackberry preserves and honeycomb. Yum. And my little family was up-and-at-'em, interacted before they went their own ways, had a nourishing first meal of the day, and are prepped and ready to put on clothes BEFORE the afternoon and even have a little morning quiet time. What a way to start the day. How revolutionary (sic).

Just wanted to share. And maybe I will actually blog tonight, now that Boy is recovering from his post-cold ear infection (Poor Boy).

You Vs. Morning Tranquility

I told myself that I would be in bed by 11pm so that I would wake up at 8am and make breakfast for everyone. That leaves me -5 minutes to blog. So you have lost the fight.

I-yiy-yiy!

Wow! Can you even believe the latest attempt at fleecing us on the ol' boob tube? I am referring to--although it could be many other things, including the ludicrous commercial about high fructose corn syrup and the ridiculous pick-up-dinner-at Food Lion commercial--the KFC $10 Challenge. Unlike all the other crazy challenges out there, which range from oat products to diet programs to probiotic-laced everything, this challenge is not about consuming inordinate amounts of exactly one product. Instead--like the cute family that does so right now before your eyes--you are supposed to go the grocery store and try to buy the ingredients for a fried chicken dinner for under $10. The implication is that it can not be done. Ahhhhh! (I'm speechless. Hold on...) First off, I actually think that I could do it. But that's not the point. The POINT IS: What you make at home is going to be so far superior to what you buy at a fast food restaurant (nutritionally, in taste, in social ramifications, etc.), it's like comparing apples with foot rot (only a little exaggerated). Better food just may come with a higher price tag, but are we disputing that? But moreover, the whole challenge is stupid. If you are even a slightly proficient grocery shopper, you know that when you buy a whole meal from the ground up, it costs A LOT. But you don't use a whole bag of flour to make fried chicken once. You would have to cost-allow for only a cup of the flour, only a smidgen of the spice, etc. etc. I don't care if I'm missing the point of not knowing the Colonel's secret recipe, I get this point: people who make commercials think we're ignorant, and most the time, it seems, they are right.

Ready for Bed and Still Musing.

So I have suddenly disappeared with no explanation. It's true, I have been useless, but the absence is legit. A week ago, I woke up fine and by the time bedtime rolled around I had a nasty head cold. Girl had it with me. A day later, Boy had it as well. So it has been a week of survival and minor doings. Disrupted sleep. Vacuuming until I was lightheaded. We even had to skip library class: How could we?!

I'm not sure what to say tonight, except that the movie Balls of Fury is really, really terrible. Especially since I have been getting more and more involved in anti-human-trafficking, and that movie is embarrassingly coy about it, makes a (very awkward) joke of it (without any poignancy of exposure or subtle statement).

And other than that, things have lately conspired to make me sort of like a raging bull with in the walls of my home. I'm just so frustrated and mad and I watch myself act so selfishly and mean. Maybe it's not that bad, but I feel like a mean, mean mom and a mean, mean wife, today. I think part of the problem--whether it is right or best--is that there are certain behaviors that Kevin exhibits that make me panic, since they are reminiscent of our last year surviving with his depression and mania. We live in the shadow of our past, sometimes unexpectedly, and when Kevin--as an example--fights me for a nap in the middle of the afternoon, I have flashbacks, my stomach tightens, I'm looking over my shoulder. And when my hormones already seem to be out of whack and I am staring my own faltering dreams in the eyes (due to a couple random occurrences), the sudden exposure is too much to bear and the panic gets the better of me.

Don't we all just want to be emotionally cuddled? coddled? Treated like somebody's sweetheart? What wouldn't we do to receive love in the form we think we deserve it?

Archives and Runny Noses.

Picture: My camera is not only dead, but now it won't take a charge, so until I get to the store for a new battery, we'll pull photos from the archive (which, on this computer, only goes back 3 years). For tonight's selection, I just couldn't decide between all the options from this wonderfully photogenic day, when Girl was about the age that Boy is now. Somehow, I got down to these wonderfully sunny and windblown shots of heaven.
Doing: Drove down to my sister's, since I haven't been down to visit in a few weeks. But for the first half of the day, it was more family time, with Kev and Girl dis-assembling the "pond" box in the back yard, getting all gross and soaking wet, then to WalMart and Target and BestBuy to purchase our digital TV converter box with the ol' government coupon. What strange business. At Lindsay's, we hung out, ate, and then took a leisurely walk. This morning I received word that I am FINALLY accepted into the Durham Freecycle group and so have also spent as much time as available checking email for free stuff. This is SO cool. I already have some free yard furniture to pick up tomorrow. Awesome. If you are interested in checking it out, or joining, the website is: freecycle.org.
Weather: Woo hoo for the fall! We're still in the 70s, and sometimes it feels cool, sometimes warm. There are various clouds running the vastness of sky, from fluffy to grey and everything in between. Girl has been noticing the shapes in the clouds and pointing them out to me. This is all-windows-open weather, for sure.
Eating: Skipped breakfast, on accident; lunch was leftover from two nights ago, and then shared some mac 'n' cheese with Kev and Girl; dinner by Dan and Lindsay was baked salmon with butter and dill, haricots vert, and garlic mashed potatoes. Digging ice water today.
Feeling: The whole fam started out the day sneezing, and by bedtime Girl and I are both sniffling like crazy. Oi! I hate being sick, and we are such a "healthy" family... but families with kids are usually families with colds. I hope this is short-lived. Please!
Sleeping: Got plenty last night, even after watching High School Musical with Kev. But then I just felt sleepy, and Kev let me sleep in an extra half hour. About Musical, it was pretty bad, and yet strangely addictive. There were a couple stand-out scenes, but then again there were some terrible ones, as well. The last scene was the best. Kevin hates musicals, but I couldn't get him to turn this one off.
Reading: More Home Cheese Making, and enjoying it. Nearing the time when I will have to delve into fromage blanc. I am actually still waiting on my first cheese-making kit, which I snagged on Ebay. Then I'm committed to at least a tentative try.
Fantasy: My fantasy would be to live off the grid and know how to do all the things you would need to do to live off the grid. Also, never to have another cold or flu in the family.
Poem:

FREECYCLE

To send things back and forth
and back and forth,
and back and forth,
until they really are junk:
broken beyond repair,
splintered into reusable pieces,
sanded into a line so thin
it is invisible at some angles--
sent to the next dimension.

What then?
Buried into the earth
to poison her womb.
We can stall the inevitable.

We can add weight to Ma'at's feather.

We're Down to a Single Photo.

Kevin is tired and I think I am going to join him getting ready for bed. How old am I? Bedtime sounds just wonderful.

So this is a photo of Girl and her best friend eating blue-frosted cupcakes. The two of them actually shared a due date almost four years ago. Now every time they see each other, they hug and then prance around wherever they are holding hands, like today at the science museum in Raleigh.

That's enough for one night.

What Do I Wear Today?

Calling for answers!

I have looked many times over the years for a site online that helps guide you to comfortable clothing in various weather. I have not found a single page. Is it out there?

Fatter By Bedtime.

So this is interesting. I am typing between two photos. And I can't really figure out how to change their location. C'est la vie!

Picture: Check Kevin out in the background. And look at lunch. Somtimes food is so beautiful. Edamame (what's the word on that stuff, anyhow?) on peanut rice noodles with lime.
Doing: Ya' know. I'm not entirely sure. Nursing and helping Girl write Boy's name on the whiteboard? After dinner we went for walk and then I watched Ugly Betty whilst putting the little one to bed. I am starting to enter the world of Betty. I have always avoided it because of Vanessa Williams (who I consider akin to Keanu Reeves and that guy from CSI Miami... what were these casting people thinking over and over and over again?). But now I am finding it, not funny really, but COMPELLING. What will happen to these strangely lovable people? Maybe I'm just a victim of good scoring, or maybe I'm falling for Betty (like everyone on the show, if you haven't seen it).
Weather: They said 80, but it still felt like summer-is-now-just-a-memory. Woo hoo! And now it's (so they tell us) back to the 70s. And it sort of smells funny in here. Man, I hate "funny" smells.
Eating: Some homemade peanut-granola-like stuff that was supposed to be cookies (even though that doesn't make sense) with milk; lunch, you have already witnessed in all of it's aesthetic glory; I REALLY didn't want to make dinner, so we ended up with a cross between spaghetti and macaroni goulash, topped with your choice: Parmesan or yogurt. I went with the yogurt. Tonight I had a big glass of chocolate milk and just now Kevin handed me a super size cup of ice water and told me to stick THAT in my blogosphere. And I did.
Feeling: Fine. Just slower than yesterday. And maybe a little picked on. I have a feeling I invite some of that, and then I have a feeling that the pickers are always looking to blame the picked-on. So who are the winners in the end?
Sleeping: Today Girl and I created, decorated, and posted House Rules and Kitchen Rules, mostly to deal with a couple persistent "problem" areas in the behavior department. Kev and I have been vaguely noticing that we have no consistent policy when it comes to some things, like eating before bed, or even in bed. And we also made some rules about respecting others' sleep. We'll see how well we all remember the rules at 5am. Although, I am aiming my alarm clock (my WHAT!?) at 8am, so I can get everyone on the same page for breakfast. That means blogs will be earlier. I need 9 hours, amigos. (Girl added the rules "No fibbing" and "No grabbing.")
Reading: Am actually re-reading segments of Super Baby Food because I am suddenly feeling guilty about not home-making much of Boy's food, which I did for Girl (and not to be obsessed about being even. I just think it's a better decision). Have also taken on more editing for the month.
Fantasy: Writing for a TV show. Or basically, just getting paid to write (especially novels) or paint. And getting paid well. Getting paid to blog?
Poem: I think we'll do another picture, tonight, instead. That would be me trying to take a photo of myself and my outfit, but forget it. Girl liked my butterfly shirt.


Goodnight and good riddance.

And Auggie Whines.

Girl can write the word "DAD" all by herself. She already knew how, and we found out today.

Picture: My camera battery is dead and I have been too busy today to recharge. I had a photo all picked out, too. Too bad, too sad (as my Dad always says).
Doing: Cleaning vigorously, with two brief pauses: one to throw three bodies in the shower and get us all dressed, and two to run to the bank, post office, library (to return a couple books), and grocery store (for milk and eggs). How domestic and fulfilling. There was a crock pot on all day, the windows thrown open, the smell of un-harsh cleaners, the glistening floors, the smell of baking bread... I love a day like today, at least once in awhile. I think it's because I used to love when I would come home to a place where my mom had been cleaning and cooking, something she did often and created such a nice space to be comfortable and fed in. I was cleaning because I do clean thoroughly about once a week and also because we had a couple that we know a little from church coming by at 5pm to look around the house and see "if there is anything they can do for us." They are part of this extremely helpful group of people from the same college in Maryland that have decided to commune with our church. They have painted some rooms for/with us in the past. They heard we had a leaky roof, a broken oven, and a few broken fans and wanted to check out the situation.
Weather: More fall! In the 70s, and grey as grey can get. Tomorrow is sunny and 80 again, but they tell us not for long. The three amigos were in jeans today.
Eating: Tropical sunrise smoothie (which translates as not local but not processed either; Kevin pulled out lunch when he stopped by from work: cheese sandwiches with mayo and real German mustard; dinner smells were wafting through the house all day: "Wash Day Stew" of chickpeas and white beans and onions, served with pita and also buttered rice, feta, and parsley when we had unexpected company (aka. the couple: Freya and Jared).
Feeling: Just yummy. But a little out of touch with my 3-year-old, who has been coming into her own more as an emotional being, lately. And with my "cleaning vigorously," I feel like we need some together time.
Sleeping: Pllllt. Girl keeps coming in our room early in the morning and then demanding that we move over and give her like half the bed or we're cramping her style. We're half asleep, so it's hard to be compassionate or judicious. But we try to be good parents at 5am.
Reading: Nothing much has changed today... Oh, wait, it has. I finished some silly little book--Restaurant Confidential--I got for free, about restaurant food. It was published by our unbiased (sic) government in 2002, but the underlying health assumptions are really behind. It is obsessed with counting calories and fat grams, instead of emphasizing real foods and traditional foods. But I kept reading because some of it is too interesting and they DO have some great suggestions throughout, like asking for half-cheese on your pizza, or splitting orders and getting veggie sides, (but duh, right?). And there are some real shockers about the stuff we're eating out. (Old shockers include fettuccine Alfredo and new ones include subway sandwiches.) Basically, you get the point near the beginning and you think: why are they even continuing? Obviously, I shouldn't even be eating at these places. I have now moved back to Hemingway.
Fantasy: These people from St. John's decide to totally renovate our bedroom/laundry room and do a great job.
Poem:

NOT QUITE HAIKU

Chicken bubbles popping on the stove.
Auggie is lucky;
The house smells of kelp and rosemary.

New Features.

We have some new categories, and we have lost a couple as well. No more appointments. Who cares, right? And no more "wearing." If I really want to tell you, I'll put it in the picture. Picture: One of the three new categories. And I re-named some stuff, too. This is better. Trust me.

Picture: See left. Girl discovered that shampoo sort of works like mousse. She thought this was awesome.
Doing: Girl's library class in the AM, then home for lunch and Nellie asked us to come over and hang out at their house to get through the rainy day. We did that, then home for dinner, kids in the tub and then bed, and we are gearing up to laugh at Baby Mama (we hope).
Weather: Yeah! It feels like fall! Mind you, several days of these grey, swampy skies could do in the psyche, but for now the temperature fells wonderful in the 70s. I am just ready to roll around in the jean and long-sleeve sections of my wardrobe.
Eating: We're looking a little skimpy this month in the pantry, so I pretty much tried to snooze through breakfast and then Girl and I had baked sweet potatoes for lunch. Nellie saved us for the afternoon: warm tortillas chips with hummus, and raisin soda bread with a dollop of cream cheese. For dinner, I scrounged in the freezer and found spelt pitas, which I defrosted and made into pita pizzas with olives, basil, garlic, and onions (optional). I used the leftover pitas for baked cinnamon-sugar crisps. Not bad. They were a little weird since the oven is broken. We're running on one-quarter of the usual elements.
Feeling: Really great, since it's like autumn. Why is it that the seasons have such an affect on us, like that? And why is it that we assume we can go so long and so often without contact with nature. And then we diagnose SAD. And we have to be told through statistics that 15 minutes of bare feet in grass is an effective stress reducer. We have assumed we could be so different from our ancestors, and we have gambled a lot.
Sleeping: Well, considering that I finally met my editing deadline at 10 last night, I did whatever else I needed to and then fell into bed... and fell hard. I tried and tried to hang onto a snooze on the couch this morning, and didn't even realize that I had accomplished my goal until we were running around the house, brushing teeth and throwing on clothes to get to the library on time.
Reading: Nothing, today, unless you count the browsing that I did in my newest library book: Nourishing Traditions. I have avoided this book for years, since we have had friends in the past use it as a platform to tell us our vegetarian lifestyle was a danger to our health (and maybe not in the best way, either). However, there are certain aspects of this book that I am realizing are part of the shared wisdom of our times, part of the realizations that veering so far from our "traditional" diets has been a mistake of colossal proportions. Not to say there are not traditional vegetarian diets, but I am interested now in giving it a good read.
Fantasy: I love to spend a few minutes a day asking myself a question like, "What would I be doing right now, if I could be doing anything?" or "Where would I be?" or "What would I be wearing?" or "eating?" or... you get it. Last night I asked Kevin if he ever allowed himself fantasies and he responded that he fantasized a lot last year about winning the lottery. Then he asked me what I fantasized about, and I told him that I was just fantacising about falling asleep while getting a foot and back massage and then being left alone in the bed and allowed to sleep way in and then when I woke up, the whole house was sparkling clean. Kevin raised his eyebrows at me: "You have a better chance of winning the lottery." Turd.
Poem: Kevin is bugging me to quit blogging. Sorry, no poem tonight.

A Daytime Posting.

I've tried. I really have. But I've been working by day and working by night. So you get me on a Sunday afternoon when--because of the September donation drive on PBS--my usual cooking shows (a rarity in a house with no cable) are on. Right now I should be snuggling a sleeping baby, watching Rick Bayless, and enjoying the tranquility of a 3-year-old who loves to do "padricks" (aka. projects) if only I set out something crafty on her kid table. For hours, sometimes. Ah. Sunday afternoons.

In fact, besides that I need to run to the kitchen momentarily to snag something that will take care of a little blood sugar convulsion that I am currently having, I have Boy playing on his bedroom floor, Girl drawing on the easel in the corner, and me putt-sing at the laptop until we have dinner and head out for our new human trafficking awareness small group.

To the kitchen!

(One giant spoon of chocolate chip cookie dough later. Not the best decision, but who can resist? I've been keeping it in the fridge since I made a big batch of dough and then realized that the oven was broken again.)

Appointments: Church, which we skipped, saying that if we hit half of the services in a month--what, with Kev working seven days a week--we'll be doing okey; slave trafficking awareness small group this evening, at a friend's home. Have to work when I get home, due to an editing deadline tomorrow.
Doing: Sort of lazing it, and straightening up here and there. We spent a little while sitting in the front yard and actually WATCHING Kev mow the front lawn. The kids love to watch their dad mow, and actually, I find it a little zen as well. The weather felt much nicer than the thermostat indicated.
Weather: Speaking of which, we have another humid 90s weekend, but for some reason it doesn't feel all that bad today, if you just plant yourself in the shade. We are really looking forward to the low that is supposed to move in tomorrow evening with a bang and then leave in its wake a week of around 70! Autumn is my favorite.
Eating: Besides cookie dough? I was convinced (oddly, by my father in Michigan) to make pancakes for breakfast, and served them with maple syrup and sliced strawberries (a little anti-locavore splurge I made this weekend); for lunch, I revived a green salad from yesterday with cubed swiss, seeds, and nuts, and even some extra tomato slices; dinner will be a mom-and-daughter fave: mac n' cheese with tuna stirred right on in. Gourmet! Yesterday I actually cooked for other people (a la my sister and my friend Lauren) before Kev was off to work: spaghetti with a diced tomato sauce with fresh basil and parsley, a green salad, sliced beets, and a bowl full of olives with candles and drinks and music. Grana padano for all.
Feeling: Oh, please. Us mothers really don't spend much time dwelling on this. Just thought I would mention, though, that my readers' comments actually convinced me to give Auggie away, and then the people who wanted him pulled out due to living circumstances and now I am having to pull a Herculean 180 in the way I am headed with Aug. I am now trying to gear up to reinstate the first-of-the-month idea, or "Auggie Day," as I am calling it, when we donate 24 hours each month to shopping for, grooming, medicating, and cooking for the old chap.
Sleeping: We seem to be mostly returned to normal, except that Kevin is moving out to the family room when Girl wakes in the morning, since the bed has been hurting his back. This, I don't get. We slept on a mattress that would slowly suck us to the center all night, for years, and now that we have replaced it with a decent pillow-top, he's having issues. Whatever. Since everything else in his health-life seems to be looking on the up, I am generally ecstatic. We are celebrating and throwing a little poo-poo at the whole minor weight gain thing: Both his mood stabilizer and antidepressant seem to be working, and at the same time. Can you believe it? Hallelujah!
Wearing: Cut-off jean shorts from about a millennia ago; some sort of paisley-like print, linen-ish, strappy tank in browns, over a brown camisole with a built-in; haven't thought about my shoes yet; same with the earrings.
!!!New Category!!! Reading: Still reading Cheapskate, and still loving it. I am taking notes, like I'm in a class, but really it's the quality of my life that depends on it.

I got two art showings in Raleigh coffee houses scheduled for February and then August, 2009. I feel excited about that. And we are also gearing up for a Flaherty Harvest Bonfire in October. I am thinking of it as my own "Celebrate Recovery" (which is a group that churches offer, sort of like an alcoholics anonymous for both alcoholics and non-alcoholics). Kevin is feeling good enough that he can actually look forward to a party and probably manage to socialize decently. If we pull this off, emotionally speaking, it will be a thing to see; a real mile-stone in our saga of bipolar.

Should probably look at the kids. They need that sort of thing then and again, especially the little one. He just knocked over a toy and wants it stood up. And Girl is singing softly and walking from room to room around the house. She may be bored.

Good riddance. (But not good night.)

The Introduction of the Blog Photo.

Aha! So I finally figured out how to get photos on my blog. Well, it's much too late for all this, so I am off to bed. I went to a PJ party at Grace tonight and I won movie tickets (!) for wackiest PJs. I was in it to win it.

What I Should Have Blogged Two Nights Ago.

Appointments: Off to Raleigh around dinner time for a seminar on slave trafficking (all on my lonesome).
Doing: Mainly just hanging around the house all day, cleaning frantically with two kids. Then abandon ship after I scarf some dinner with the fam and rive the Camry into downtown Raleigh and some church called Imago Dei for that seminar.
Weather: And these three remain: heat, heat, and heat!
Eating: Now this I'm not so sure I can remember anymore. I think that this might have been the night of spaghetti squash? I've never made it before, so I tossed it with gruyerre and topped it with roasted tomatoes, basil, and breadcrumbs. It was not a tremendous hit. And the texture of spaghetti squash is so bizarre and unique.
Feeling: Oh, normal, I suppose.
Sleeping: The Flahertys have been struggling and struggling with sleep lately, which is the nature of only half of us. Three-quarters of us have been struggling with an upper respiratory viral thing for weeks (it's kind of a strange one, with minor symptoms and War and Peace-esque duration), and it's causing us all to flip and flop and have strange dreams to boot.
Wearing: This I can remember. I was wearing a new pair of $12 jeans (hurrah!) around the house, deciding if I should keep them (they are a cut I have never really worn), and a new-ish red striped fitted polo top, from my birthday, when my husband came in the door from work and just about jumped me. He told me to keep the jeans, or else. Men are so weird.

Now for the things that matter.

I went to the slave trafficking seminar for a few reasons. One, it has been a topic that is coming up over and over, including on a Dateline I watched not long ago. Two, I am joining a couple social justice/philanthropy small groups this year, and one of them is specifically addressing slave trafficking. And three, one of those small groups directed me to this seminar, and I was assuming that other people from the group would be going. They didn't, though, but that's a different story.

I'm not sure what to share from that experience. I was intrigued by the claim that the speaker would address "local trafficking," but the reality was a little disappointing. Apparently, they just don't have any data to say anything much about North Carolina, let alone the Triangle Area, except this: the Triangle Area is "high risk" because of all the immigrants and because of its location between Florida and New York City. Also, the southeast has maybe about a quarter of the country's trafficking--67 per cent from Latin America--which is to say, a quarter of 16,000-18,000 internationally trafficked people per year. Yikes.

Some of the things that disturbed me most:
-United States citizens arrive in Southeast Asia for "sex tourism" more than from any other country. Children in that industry can be as young as 5.
-Most prostitutes (around 75 per cent) have a pimp.
-(Also seen on Dateline:) Of children in the US who run away from home, about 1/3rd are approached by a trafficker within 48 hours.
-A trafficker in the sex slave business can make up to $1,000,000/year off one slave.
-A 2001 study found that out of 43 US domestic workers, 9 were abused/trafficked, and 19 had their papers taken away by their employers.
-We are a "destination" country, mostly. And we are on the high side, speaking globally.
-Perhaps the easiest way to affect trafficking is to stop buyers. This includes the demand of general cheap product (including chocolate, which I was eating in the audience as she said that. Oops).
-Lots of people make money off of slave trafficking. Shifty cab drivers, police, legitimate business fronts, etc. It's second in revenue after the drug trade. (I think I understood the correctly).
-When you buy from the sex industry, there is a large chance you are contributing to the sex slave industry.
-There are 12 million women and children, worldwide, in sex trade.

So there you go. Just more things for us all to feel helpless about. And more to worry about and stress out about. But maybe there will be some who become passionate, because I figure, if you were to help one person into freedom and healing, that would be completely worth it.

Three-Year-Old Antics

It's too late for this and I have been working in my editor capacity at this computer all night (while putting a sick three-year-old to bed three times and a eight-month-old to bed no less than four times: Kevin just walked in the door from his night job).

However, I will share things that are probably best just for me...

Girl was playing in the family room, listening to a children's soundtrack on the stereo and I was in the kitchen putting on dinner. The soundtrack has a couple tracks that are not right for kids. One came on, and Girl yells out, "Mom! This is the one that is inappropriate!"

The back-story on this: Hurricane Ike is barreling toward South Florida, where my brother-in-law's Dad lives with his father. Lindsay has invited them both to stay with her should they need--or want--to evacuate. Girl has been learning about hurricanes (since we just had Hana skim us here in Central Carolina) and I have explained that Mitch may have to come visit. So, Girl comes into the kitchen and takes her cleaning basket: a little thing that sits below her hanging broom and mop (which she also takes) and contains a squirt bottle, sponges, a towel, and a duster. She comes running in later, from the bathroom, to tell me, "Mom, I'm mopping the bathroom. I'm cleaning up in case Mitch comes." She spent the next half-hour seriously scrubbing the bathroom floor. She also prayed at dinner that Mitch would come.

What a hoot. She's oh-so-precocious.

Synthetic Life

I just looked up and realized that my husband just wandered in from outside... in his boxer briefs. And he's not even having a BiPolar episode. Interesting.

So I have veered pretty far from my reading through the best novels. I just get all caught up in reading all the things I love... like cookbooks. I just finished Local Flavors and have now started In Defense of Food. I love just laying in the bed next to Kevin and totally freaking out at him about Lucky Charms marketing or the inferiority of shipped fruits or... YOGURT! That's one of my main food beefs. Yogurt. Now, it does happen frequently that I see something in the grocery store and I grab up the package and yell at it and I really want to grab the closest person and yell at them something like, "How can they say that?!?" or "How stupid do they think we are?!?" (Pretty stupid, actually, and it turns out they're often right.) I have had to restrain myself from pulling things out of people's hands and putting it back on the shelf. But yogurt....

Did you know that most of the product on the average U.S. grocery store's shelves sold to us as yogurt, is, in fact, NOT yogurt? It is more along the lines of a creamy jell-o with artificial flavors, colors, and preservatives. It's something like cornstarch and gelatin with... oh yeah!... some milk and a truckload of sugar. But that's not yogurt. Yogurt--the stuff that's been good for you and your digestion for like a trillion years--is a cultured milk product. Just milk and culture, actually. Culture=little bacteria that also bring us things like kefir, sourdough bread, kombucha, and blue cheese (as well as any cheese). So, there are still brands out there that make yogurt (as in milk and culture), although I can only ever find one brand at the superstores around here. What really cheeses me, just totally cheeses me, is that now there is this whole yogurt movement where they've added--you got it!--cultures into yogurt to make it good for digestion. Wake up people! They were the ones that took the cultures out of the yogurt to begin with! And now with slick marketing they actually are trying to make you believe that it was their brilliant idea and the work of their innovative scientists that birthed the wonderful little probiotic [read: bacteria] that is so good for you! And it's exclusive to their product! As if! (And then they're still shoving artificial crap and sugar down your gullet with those wonderful little probiotics. Oi!)

I should stop there.

I really liked Local Flavors by Deborah Madison. It is a cookbook--sort of like the locavore Bible--and while it doesn't really read like any sort of manual, it captures the spirit of eating locally in a way that enables people with the book in their hands to feel empowered. At least that's how I see it. I think that if you are eating from a CSA (as we are) or from farmers' markets (as we do), you would do well to have a food preservation book and also maybe a produce book that defines various fruits and veggies as well as highlights how to prep them and cook them. As for the preservation book, I have been looking at buying Putting Food By, which covers dehydrating, freezing, and canning, etc. Local Flavors is a great next step after Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. (One of my fave cookbooks is Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, (which I refer to affectionately as VCFE) although the title is a little misleading.)

Am thoroughly enjoying In Defense of Food, and am thinking it is a much better book to recommend than the author's The Omnivore's Dilemma, which is another book I love. Food is also, oddly, a great read with Why French Women Don't Get Fat. Am really excited about the tone of Food and the root premise (un-stated) that we are living fabricated, artificial, un-real... I can't think of the best word here... lives. We are.... mmm, I'm struggling suddenly with wanting to go to sleep. Scratch what I said about this book and I will get back to this later.

Girl says to me yesterday, "Mom, I like your wrinkly belly." Thanks?

I will get back to Men Without Women by Hemingway, but not before I learn how to make soft cheeses.

Good night. And good riddance, I bet.

The Internet and Guffawing

I just want to direct you to a couple things on this great big internet of ours.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T4_MsrsKzMM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_r7oAhEc-7g

I just had to share because I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants. And the first video was done by an old college friend-like person of mine. He was always obviously capable of a video like this and I only wish he would do more. After watching, you will too.

But I need to get to work and honestly I'm not even sure what else I can contribute to the world tonight. Pointing toward a laugh; not bad.

Good night and good riddance.

Migraine Tirade, While Drinking Coke and Squinting

I was thinking about getting back to the usual Yellow Notebook blog info, but I have a soap box to get on tonight and I am going to do it while I still have the headache to sacrifice to it. (And yes, I am now the Yellow Notebook and not whatever I was before about My Life (which I came up with in about 30 seconds when I had to name my shiny, new blog). I like it much better.

So, migraines. There are possibly a few of you who actually know what a migraine is. But for those of you who made me sit amid the noisy bustle of the front office as a small child while you told your friends on the phone that I "just [had] a migraine" (roll of eyes), I have a bone to pick. And for those of you who have looked me straight in the face with shining, normal eyes and not a wrinkle of strain on your face and sighed, "Oh, I think I have a migraine," I have a bone to pick with you as well.

A migraine is not a headache. In order to get a migraine diagnosis, you have to have at least a few coinciding symptoms happen more than a couple different times. These symptoms include nausea and vomiting and tingling pin-pricks in the arms, legs, or face. Migraine with aura ("Classic Migraine") is in a ballpark all its own, but is not differentiated in the common vernacular. I suffer from what is termed Severe Classic Migraine, and have had from a few per week to a few per month since I was 5 years old.

Let me tell you what a migraine is typically like for me (and considering that they morph over the years in a number of ways):

My triggers seem to include weather changes, the eustress after a considerable stress, missing meals (or even snacks, depending on my blood sugar), getting inadequate sleep, exorbitant amounts of caffeine, dehydration, sinus stuffiness, fluctuating hormones (which is fun during pregnancy and beyond, let me tell you), or generally getting off a predictable schedule. I do what I can to avoid these triggers. It sort of helps that a lot of my triggers coincide with Kevin's BiPolar triggers and that a generally healthy life (healthy food at regular intervals, lots of water, regular rest and exercise) is helpful to avoiding a migraine.

I also see a chiropractor once a month and take ridiculous amounts of riboflavin every night. I have not found a neurologist I like yet, but do NOT have many treatment options currently as I am still nursing and "of child-bearing years." I use topical mint, an herbal inhaler, and sometimes homeopathic medications during the migraine as well as caffiene (Coke, tea, whatever I can get my hands on). Treatments in the past have varied from preventatives (like antihistimines) and abhortives (like Anaprox at onset) and my coping mechanisms have grown slowly to include heat, cold, aromatherapy, hydrotherapy, quiet, sleep, darkness, a fan and a heavy blanket, massage therapy, breathing and other relaxation techniques, visualization, and good ol' livin' through it.

My prodrome phase begins the day before a migraine and includes a feeling of floating and sort of a dizziness... like the world just got bigger (especially when my eyes are shut). I have an increased incidence of disappearing into "The Zone," where I sort of get this "gone" look in my eyes and cease to interact with my surroundings for 30 seconds or so (sort of like a petit mal seizure or something). I also yawn profusely and am fatigued. I may have other issues, but have not paid a ton of attention to this phase over the years.

My aura phase progresses from what at first is about a minute of confusion followed by a minute of panic to a sudden visual disturbance (which can be a shimmering zig zag or almost complete blindness). It is at this moment that I suddenly feel (and will continue to feel) confused, depressed, and exhausted. My visual disturbance progresses to a tingling numbness (sometimes actually an extreme pain like a cement block is being pushed on top of me) of the hand and arm, (sometimes leg), and then face, around the lips and in the nose. This painful numbness moves through the fingers, up the arm, and also down the tongue. When it gets into my throat, I can't tell if I am breathing or not and occasionally I panic. I am freezing cold at this point. I can not (and will not be able to) stand any light or any noises, and everything (even a pillow) feels terrible against my scalp and my face. I sometimes have vertigo and when I try to speak I sound like a stroke victim: my words are confused and backwards. At this point I are between 20 minutes and an hour into the migraine.

My pain phase is... well... painful. Sometimes it's really not that bad. And other times. Hmm. Not to sound too dramatic, but I think the crayon picture I once saw depicting a sledhammer driving into someone's head, about expresses it. I have described it as a worm, dipped in acid, working it's way through my brain. Yesterday I kept thinking (not completely lucid) that there was a skate key being forced through my head by an ice pick. There have been times I could barely make it to the bathroom to vomit. Which leads me to the rest of the symptoms: Nausea, vomiting, dry-heaving, cold-sweats, hot-sweats, confusion (still), sensitivity to light, noise (still), vertigo (still), nasal stuffiness, blurred vision, stiffness of the neck and shoulders, and more depression and confused vision and speech as well as muscular fatigue and general exhaustion and sleepiness. (Note: However, I can't always sleep since I am in a considerable amount of pain. When I do sleep, it tends to be spotty and disturbed, littered with strange and annoyingly repetitive dreams, like last night when I kept having to write out this uber-recipe for some unnamed guy for a healthy , daily soup... over and over and over and over. Same recipe.) At this point I am between an hour and 72 hours after the aura phase started. The pain eventually dissipates, but almost never without the help of sleep.

My postdrome phase is best synopsized by Wikipedia: "The patient may feel tired, have [ongoing, but more minor] head pain, cognitive difficulties, 'hungover'... mood changes and weakness." Head pain happens when I bend over or move too quickly and I am very confused about what is going on visually. I can not drive, read, or really watch TV. I think I may also now have auditory hallucinations (like rustling bags and thumping). Usually, everything is better after a good night's sleep but sometimes it takes two good night's sleep. Often my migraines group together, sometimes into an intense week or two of relying on others to bail me out, transport me around, and now, watch my kids as I drift into a painful fog.

So, in conclusion:

While some people do have more manageable migraines, some have ocular migraines (without the pain) and most actually have migraines without aura, I would love it if after you read this you think twice when using--or hearing--the word migraine. That's all. I've been wanting to explain myself for about 20 years. There is some little girl sitting in some front office of some school somewhere in a lot of pain and she needs your intervention.

Good night and good riddance. Really.

(For more information, you can start at: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Migraine)

Wilting.

I seem to wait just that little extra-too-long before I get to blogging. An hour ago I was bouncing around the kitchen and contemplating a glass of iced tea to keep the feeling going. I opted out (which was the right choice) and now I am fading fast as I begin typing.

I have been at the computer all night, really, working. That's right, you heard me: working. I have taken a freelance contract with a publishing company I have worked for before and I have a deadline this weekend. The whole thing just fell in my lap and I am actually working under my second cousin's cousin. Blood lines get thin in todays' job market. So if you tally up the jobs at our house and count mothering and housekeeping separate, we have six jobs per two people. Yikes.

Cut up watermelon today from the farm and can smell it in the dehydrator. What will that make it tomorrow morning? Waterlessmelon? That's the kind of joke that's only fresh when you are drunk or in love.

Good night and good riddance. Am I right?

Conscientitarian.

I was on my way into the ol' blog when I ran into a friend at Gmail Chat and now there is no time left and nothing really left in me...

I was going to say that we are slowly making changes to our way of eating that may change our old pescetarian categorization to aspiring locavores or farm foodies or camoflagitarians or something...

And I was also going to ask anyone who might read this to let me know what they think I should do about dear old Auggie who stinks and generally adds stress to my life but for whom I still remember a gentle fondness in the not-so-distant past and for whom I took on the responsibility of raising him and taking care of him for his whole doggie life. There is someone interested in adopting our pug, but can I live with the guilt and should I even designate this much of my crowded life to his concern? Am I a terrible dog owner? I am admittedly not an animal person, and then I stand there and stir his organic stew and rove the internet for safe bug repellents. Does he live the life he would chose and how much should I care? Will Girl forget when (if) he's gone? Can there be two right answers?

I will come back to this.

And I was also going to update on the reading-through-the-top-100. I am currently reading both Local Flavors and Ernest Hemingway. And damn that bread I made last night is good with blackberry jam!

More about this later.

Good night and good riddance.

Slowly Returning. Imbro Crawls in the Laptop Glow.

Okey, so now everyone is gone and the holiday is over. Officially. My mom left today on a midday flight out of RDU and I was left in the living room looking at my own two little kids and my own ridiculous soul. There is much to muse upon and maybe even more to think... I feel windswept and as almost as confused as I always felt as a young person. Why must family be so confusing, heaping on the emotional baggage and the blurry vision? And where is that person who can just whittle everything away to the bare naked truth? Help me to see myself in a clear reflection... Oh wait! That sounds familiar because the Bible actually says we'll never see clearly while we still walk among the living like this. Aha!

Well, then, I guess I can call it a night and sleep peacefully in my own delusions.

Good night and, I guess, good riddance.

Back in Durham.

I'm just blogging in the few minutes before I check on my slow-roasted tomatoes to let everyone (or no one) know that I am back to normal life (from insane amounts of volunteering and then vaca) to hopefully blog regularly, again. Too tired and hot to make sense.

Hope to go to bed soon.

Good night and good riddance.

Just the Basics

Appointments: Church, partly to meet Kendal who was picking up Girl's best friend from spending the night last night; a friend's 30th birthday party, which we thought was at 130pm, but ended up being at 4pm at the Eno River up the road.
Doing: Getting 3 kids, 2 adults, and 2 dogs (dog-sitting) up and at 'em, fed, and read for church (for the humans, at least); Church; Rushing home and throwing a picnic lunch in a bag and bathing suits on the people and then running up the road to the river only to eat our picnic and wait 45 minutes and eventually leave, disappointed, for Kev to rush off to work; Figuring out the problem with email that led to the miscommunication and then just sort of bum out worse and worse until Lauren came over with a blueberry pie and in need of vinegar. We piled back in the car and want back to the river to spend an hour and a half watching Girl squirt her friends and collect (enormous!) rocks from the river and share a blanket with old friends.
Weather: Hot, but maybe not as hot as some other recent days.
Eating: Homemade oat bread with fresh, local honey comb for first breakfast; strawberry-blueberry-cream smoothies for second breakfast; for picnic lunch: aged cheddar and locally-made blackberry jam sandwiches and peaches; dinner, I guess you could count what I just ate: a tomato, and then fresh figs with cheddar on toast. I had iced black tea all day. I have also had two birthday meals in the past couple days: vegetarian spring rolls and "vegetarian duck" red curry with jasmine rice; and sushi, sushi, sushi at my favorite Kurama Sushi followed by a strawberry bubble tea. Yum!
Feeling: Depressed. Like everything sucks. And annoying and annoyed and unloved and tearful and burdensome. Not like how I felt a few weeks ago.
Sleeping: Trying so hard to catch up with everything, including sleep.
Wearing: Oh, bother.

It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To

Just go ahead and log this birthday as one of the worst. Not for a lack of effort on my friends' and families' part (at least for a 29th... I mean, who cares, right?). But I was totally bummed all day and Boy was fussing all day (so unlike him) and Girl decided to throw a couple tantrums-of-a-lifetime and every traffic light was red and library class was canceled and none of my birthday cards got here by today and I didn't get to eat breakfast, lunch or even my dinner out (due to crying baby) and...

Of course you could argue that I got a bunch of calls and emails and FaceBook messages and I did get to go to one of my fave restaurants with my fam and sister and brother-in-law and one of my best friends (who also picked up the tab), with a cake, and cards, and ALSO happened to wander into a second-hand store this afternoon to find the thing at the top of my list for three whopping bucks (as opposed to 30 or so): an electric yogurt maker!

But besides all the junkiness that littered my "special day," I was on way too little sleep (long story) and worn out from a busy week and just depressed for a reason that may or may not be cumulative or quantifiable: the kind of depressed that extends into your limbs like a charged electricity or a hanging participle; dangling, unappeased.

And then there's always just the ominous-ness about 29.

And then there's the terrible darkness of the past year and the long shadow it is casting into the future. Kev is on new medications and I'm not sure I like it, so far. I've got to give it more time, but... Suppose Kevin is never meant to seize a holiday and make someone feel really special? Can I live with that forever? And how? I think I was looking for zeal and effort and the poor chap can barely get his head off the pillow, lately. He's going from a foggy brain to a lazy bones. Great. Just great. Where's the romance?

So thanks to everyone who called or sent little messages and who met me for dinner and paid for dinner and sent cards that hopefully weren't stolen from the mailbox. But I don't want to do this birthday over again.

Good night and GOOD RIDDANCE!

Kevin Drinks Coke

Oi-yoy-yoy! Is there a proper way to write that?

I have basically been working full time on top of being a full time mom and homemaker, all week. So even though it is winding down, just a few hours before my birthday, I am almost too tired to write anything. Here goes the regular.

Appointments: Monday I was volunteering at the big, annual, church charity giveaway, from lunchtime to dinnertime, as the shift manager. Tuesday, morning was Girl's weekly library class followed by the same volunteer shift all day. Wednesday, same volunteer shift and then Kev picks up the kids from the church and I take the evening volunteer shift for the first of three actual giveaways (not organizing and stocking) in the shoes and bags department. Today, drop Girl off for the day with some friends and go into sister's classroom to start to get it ready for the school year, dinner with Lindsay's friend, and then it's now.
Doing: Same, mostly, as above.
Weather: Still very hot, and muggy.
Eating: Lots of good, fresh stuff at home and lots of crap while I'm out working. But really too busy to keep great fuel going in all day.
Feeling: We'll chat about that tomorrow. I am really enjoying volunteering but not so much lugging two kids into the mix. When they're a little older, maybe.
Sleeping: Again, we'll chat about that tomorrow.
Wearing: Jeans and my Grace t-shirt, which was required for the event. Bad ponytail, even for the News (which Linds and I were on, even if we were just in the background).

Almost Forgot to Title It

I'm too distracted by my nighttime snack to do a good job. And then the pug barks and I start worrying about the kids. So I have to go check.

Appointments: Woke up sort of unexpectedly in Fuquay, so it was a stretch for church in Chapel Hill, then another evening of church at Emmaus Way (since Girl "miss[es] Miss Lauren").
Doing: Actually made it into the shower with Girl while Boy was still asleep and through the hour of driving on an empty gas tank to the first service at our church (and almost missed the free breakfast, which would have started me off in the really wrong mood). Then home to do the whole big lunch/supper thing we do on the weekends now since Kev works the second shift. Just chillin' with PBS cooking shows and writing thank yous (finally!) in the afternoon, tracking storms across the state (which is becoming a favorite Sunday afternoon pastime around here). Then an informal dinner, some smooches on the kids, and bedtime for all. Girl is having us read out The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe for the second time this year. Emmaus Way did not happen.
Weather: Despite what my "Doing" said, we never actually got any storm at our house, just menacing clouds and some distant rumblings. And a Severe Thunderstorm Watch just about all day and night. Still pretty hot. And Girl said it was "creepy" today b/c of all the morning fog which started to burn off by afternoon, but was still a haze.
Eating: This is the highlight of the day (besides the kids' smiles, of course). Breakfast was a free church deal: a flax bagel with veggie cream cheese, a glass of cranberry juice, and a cup of hot peppermint tea; lunch/supper was locavore (which I am getting in to, lately) with a creamy potato salad with green beans and hard-boiled eggs and a tomato salad with fresh basil, most of it from our CSA farm; snack was a tall glass of creamy, organic, while milk with just a touch of chocolate ("Give me my sin again"); dinner was freegan (I'm hitting all my fave food movements today), and I made some Ciabatta crostini with a brushing of olive oil, then topped them bruschetta-style with the left-over tomato salad which had been marinating in balsamic vinegar and oil all day, more olive oil, and salt and pepper. It was perfect. And it was freegan b/c we took both the tomatoes and bread (and some other things) off a free stuff table at church this morning. Castaways from a local gourmet foods super. Right now I am snacking on a super spicy jalapeno hummus (which I just whipped up) and Wasa fiber crackers. Ice water. My nose is running, I better go catch it.
Feeling: I'm not sure I really even want to think about it. I feel a little pain moving just below the surface, and I might just be avoiding the sting. That reminds me though that I need to look up jellyfish stings before we go to Myrtle Beach. Kevin did tell me that I looked nice today. And he even complimented the potato salad without me asking for his rating (which, by the way, I ask for and record at almost every meal).
Sleeping: Not quite enough, but I tried. It was the Food Network versus church alertness, but Food helped me out by having terrible programming last night: some show I had never seen before called "The Secret Life of..." I don't really want to spend a half hour on movie theater foods or vending machines. Why? Because the history can be covered in about 5 minutes and then the rest of the time was spent watching the poor host try to look like he was enjoying vending machine lattes and dinner theater fare.
Wearing: Coral colored, princess-waisted, tie-in-the-front tank over a salmon colored, built-in-bra tank; jean skirt from pre-pregnancy!; New Balance tennis shoes (this was an accident of packing last minute, but may have saved me a lot of pain since my foot pain is now radiating into my heel); same ol' hairdo. This reminds me that I need to rest my wrist, as it is not getting better. But when can I possibly take a week off for healing it? I'll probably have to sacrifice Mytle Beach and get a stupid-looking tan line wrapping it up so I don't use it.

As an FNI (for nobody's information), I may be a little spotty with the blog this week. I am swamped with volunteering at our church's big, summer, community giveaway, then helping my sister work on her 4th grade classroom and then... my birthday! woo-hoo! So we'll see.

Went to yoga again on Saturday morning. I love it. Especially since we did this deep stretching yoga this time, and for an hour and a half. It was great. Better than great. I think I want to take this lady's class at Triangle Yoga, but it wouldn't be quite as fun without the outdoors.

Locavore or Pesceterian?

Well, two nights ago I plain didn't want to blog, and last night I was nowhere near the internet. So there. Or so, here. I have left all the dishes "rinsed and stacked" (what a cop-out that is) in the kitchen, Girl is long ago sent to dream land, Kev cruising the internet researching his latest obsession: Drunken Fist martial arts, Boy spralled out on the bed and snoozing between us. The menu for the second disk of the British The Office is taunting me from the TV screen. As is it's reflection off the plastic-coated, library copy of Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. And I'm balancing typing with eating an apple popsicle (which, by the way, has this great sort of taupe glow with the computer screen shining through it).

Appointments: Taking the ol' minivan in for a tire change... all four of them. We've been saving up for a few months for the change, and the tires had gone from really bad to reeeaaalllyy bad. (Last night was movie night at the church. Popcorn, something they were calling lemonade, and National Treasure II. I'm personally not sure why there was a II, and did Nicholas Cage look gaunt to you?, but that is beside the point of fellowship and family time.)
Doing: Being as it may (since I am and have always been a stringent rule-follower), I utilize my sister's half of a Costco membership multiple times a month. Usually this means the flash of her membership card, a swipe of my debit card, and the transferring of goods-met-dishonestly back home to my house with only a slight twinge of guilt. (I do have plans for my own membership. Really.) So she came in to town today just so I could get my tires changed for more than $100 cheaper than elsewhere (ahem, Sears) with a great warranty, to boot. I wasn't sure I could pull off the tire change thing without having to prove my identity. So we took the van in and then just farted around (most Americans might have added a "literally" right there even though it would be grossly inappropriate, no pun intended) with the kids and planned all sorts of birthdays and other events that are coming up in the next month's time. My birthday is coming up. I digress.... Dinner. Send Kev off to one of his weekly get-togethers that have evolved from his having a manic episode last December (and all the ridiculousness that was his depression leading up to the episode). Reading in the quiet. Blog. The Office.
Weather: Today was actually wonderful, and I wish I had known that before I left the air on assuming it was going to be another scorcher. Well, we all know what assuming does. I don't know what the actual weather stats were, but it felt really good and it wasn't raining. Although if you leave a baby in the sun for a minute, he sweats. So, maybe I'm just becoming used to the heat.
Eating: Girl "sneaked" a fruit leather into my hand as I snoozed on the couch next to her this morning. When I woke, I ate it. For lunch, a tomato sandwich made with heirloom tomatoes, lots of mayo and pepper, and homemade peasant bread, which I toasted. Also a cup of that organic roasted pepper-tomato soup from the box. Two thumbs up. Thirsty and tired later, I re-charged with a gigantic blueberry-orange-yogurt smoothie. For dinner, Pasticcio, which I have no idea whether it was even close to authentic Greek. Although it was pretty good and I ate too much. It was basically a mess of cottage cheese and lentils and pasta from the Diet for a Small Planet book.
Feeling: Sort of numb. And like I'm on a treadmill to housekeeper's hell. Maybe not so dramatic. But you can never catch yourself, so you have to find some sort of joy and peace in the daily chores and the cadence of work (and production and consumption). I have been trying to get those Thank Yous out for months!
Sleeping: Girl was up later last night at the movie thing that ever before in her 3 1/2 years. But I guess it wasn't that late for me. So why I rolled out on to the couch instead of into boundless energy?: The mystery of my life.
Wearing: Man, I love those white, cargo clam-diggers, but paired them today with a hippie spaghetti-strap tank, cream (or white?) with brown flower patterns and a little embroidery up top. Leather flops (which I am regretting tonight) and amber dangly earrings. This is starting to get repetitive. Except the pigtails. Watch out!: Mom in pigtails!

And I'm not sure I'm completely making sense, so I'll fall back on:

Good night. And good riddance.

Out of Time

Appointments: Pilates, but then that was canceled, leaving me with None.
Doing: Scrubbing the windowsills and baseboards in Girl's room. Reading out stories. Changing diapers, feeding people, doing dishes. Took the kids to the library because a few books I reserved came in (from the Best Ever List). Soon I will be starting Men Without Women (Hemingway) and Pilgrim's Progress. But first I am going to veer off the list to read the critically acclaimed Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. Dinner. Dishes. Blog.
Being: I think I should change this category. From now on, we'll do "Weather" instead.
Weather: Hot, hot, hot, lately. Just humid and relentless, so that when you do walk down to the mailbox, it becomes hard to breathe. I usually don't mind the heat, but running the air for the comfort of a small baby and a very busy mom has made it seem crazy hot and muggy outside when I venture out. I love the middle days, between the low 80s and upper 60s.
Eating: Cheerios and milk for an easy breakfast; for lunch, some free asiago bagels with red pepper-tomato soup out of the box (but so good!), apple slices, and a little communal bowl of raw cashews, raisins, and craisins; dinner was gado-gado, an Indonesian peanut sauce which I served over brown rice and with a platter heaped with steamed cabbage, zucchini, and red potatoes and also cucumber. I am thinking that these weird bean brownies I made the other day would be good spread into a sweet pie crust and sprinkled with chocolate chips or dolloped with whipped cream. Better as a chocolate-espresso pie.
Feeling: Jumpy, even more than yesterday. Girl started out the day by telling me that some voice next to her said really loudly that "I am a wikka!" A man, actually. That wasn't there. And there was nothing sound-generating on in the house. And our quiet, neighborhood street is a 1/4 acre away, the houses on either side of us unoccupied at 10am. So it just freaked me out, and continues to creep me out tonight.
Sleeping: I thought it was 730 this morning when I rolled out of bed close to 9am. Need to cut off the British The Office episodes earlier, but they're just so addictive. If you've never seen, please go out and rent right now. And while you're at the rental place, Grab Freaks and Geeks and watch both shows in their entirety (including the Office special). Do it!
Wearing: Currently, Strawberry Shortcake pajama pants (like old school Strawberry Shortcake; none of this modern gal stuff) and a free t-shirt for the Julie and Julia blog. Pony tail. All day I had on green khaki cargo shorts, to the knees; cream princess-waisted shirt with a brown art-deco pattern; Birkenstock Londons; amber dangly earrings; hair up in the latest obsession (see last night's blog).

Whenever we drive home from the library, my three-year-old asks for books, and I pass back her newest selections one at a time as she "reads" them and then stacks them next to herself. I passed back a Charlie Brown comic strip book and she gave it right back. I asked, "So, you didn't like this one?" and she responded, "No. I liked that one. But it was giving me a heart attack."

I just want to mention two more things today:

First, if you haven't heard of the Garfield Minus Garfield thing, you should check it out. There is this website where this guy removes Garfield from old Garfield comic strips and then posts them. So you end up with this comic strip about John Arbuckle, who ends up being sad and alone, not to mention possibly certifiable. I found it to be both interesting and funny, as a lot of people apparently do. FYI: He has Jim Davis' blessing. And the only thing about it all I found unsatisfying: I want to know his methods for extraction, and was also hoping to see a couple before-and-after examples. Could not find. Website is garfieldminusgarfield.net

Second, I totally thought my husband was trying to pull one over on my daughter and I this evening when he started showing her online pics of a norwhal. A norwhat? A norwhal. Perhaps many of you know what this is. Despite it's claymation appearance in Elf, I have never, ever been exposed to this thing. And it sounds fantastical. But here it is: a whale, which lives in the far north, with a tusk coming out of its mouth. The tusk looks like an honest-to-goodness unicorn horn. It's even twisted in a spiral, like that. Can you believe it?

Check out lumq.com/10/weirdest-animals-and-creatures-in-the-world/. You have to see the aye-aye. It'll freak you out.

Running out of battery. No time to sign off.

Not Sure of the Date

I spend the weekend at a house other than my own and without my laptop, and I just can't manage to give it the ol' college try and get a posting up. I would have actually had to figure out how to charge someone else's computer and bring it down a flight of stairs. Oh, the horror!

But here I am, cuddled up in bed with Boy and a German Fanta and my Mac. I am feeling a little jumpy home alone with the kids again (not that I am every time, but some of the nights I just get that way). Tonight this is probably due to all the comments Girl made about ghosts before bed (she says she is afraid of them and I tell her they are like pretend and I don't actually think she is even afraid as much as wants me to think she is). And then she had me start reading her White Fang, which I have never read and won't be continuing to read to a three-year-old. The first few pages are just taught with raw suspense and palpable fear. Like real fear, of real wolves, that are really about to eat something or somebody.

So I'm jumpy and I keep calling my sister's house to tell them things like when Girl went to bed or how good the Fanta is. Not that it isn't, 'cause foreign Fanta is just way better than the orange soda here.

Appointments: Church, but was talked into going to the church my sister and brother-in-law mostly go to. Evening meeting for my food co-op, but then thought I had a sitter and it fell through and I did not want to drag both kids to a meeting by myself.

Doing: Panera Bread after church (which just goes to show you how much I just never object to my sister, since I have next-to-no expendable income and spent $10 for Girl and I to eat at Panera's. Panera's! I don't hate Panera's, but when you love food and only get to eat out less than once a month, it's just not the place I would pick. The new corn chowder is good.) Then they came out to get their truck and we hung out all afternoon looking for my debit card and installing a little shelf in Boy's room. After a lame dinner, Girl talked me into "Movie Night," with popcorn and Happy Feet. Now this.
Being: Sometimes I want time to go faster. Most the time I want it to go slower. Why can't we ever just let time be?
Eating: Power bar. Just kidding! Started my day with a cookie I found on my sister's counter (which is much better). Then had an asiago bread thing and hot tea at Potter's Hand. At Panera's for lunch: Tomato-Mozzarella Salad and Summer Corn Chowder, with chips, and aqua plata [That's Romanian]. Dinner? I so run out of steam when it's just Girl and I for dinner: whole wheat rotini with leftover pepper-hazlenut sauce, roasted red peppers (out of the jar), and parmesan. Lackluster, but edible. Fanta for dessert, but despite how satisfying it is emotionally, my body needs me to wander back in the kitchen soon. Down, belly!
Feeling: Contemplative and bored and lonely. I feel like a real loser lately, like a stress to my own relationships. How much fun can I be lately? And to top off how antisocial I feel lately, my husband comments the other night that I interrupt him too much. And I do! I interrupt everyone and I know it! But don't fret; I already despise myself for it, and for many other terrible things I do on any given day and in most social-relational situations.
Sleeping: Maybe not quite enough when I have all night Food Network. And Iron Chef USA comes on at 11pm! What's a girl supposed to do with back-to-back episodes of Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives? At least Girl woke her aunt and uncle at 6am, and not me.
Wearing: Do I even remember? I've had PJs on for hours. White, fitted, clam-shucker cargos and a heather grey t-shirt with a princess waist. Tan shoes that are half-babydoll and half-moccasin. Turquoise and mother-of-pearl earrings from Dity Beads and a turquoise and beaded necklace. My new hairdo is to grab a little chunk of hair in the front and clamp it down to the top of my head, leaving messy strings running from forehead to barrette.

Last night I had a wedding and I also have things to say about Germany (second-hand), but I am currently down to typing one-handed due to baby who needs patting.

Then good night and good riddance.

Loved Ones Flying Above the Ocean

Appointments: Meet Nellie and her three kids at the Eno State Park/River right up the road. Added Coran and her twins (and her growing belly) at last minute.
Doing: The River, after which I felt a little grimy and a LOT tired. Therefore, cleaned a tiny bit and then snoozed with Boy on the futon while Girl watched PBS cartoons. Dinner. Kids in bed. Blog. Painting?
Being: A mom, sometimes with just not enough control or patience. Absolutely enjoyed the river, but got really insecure about how stupid of a conversationalist I am, always turning everything into a poorly told story of mine, and then repeating the last couple phrases about four times, usually with a question mark or exclamation point. Why do people even bother with me? Do I ever actually give in my adult relationships (except with family, I know the answer to that is yes, too much perhaps)?
Eating: A power bar. And if I have to say that again, I'm going to chuck the rest of them out the window; for our picnic lunch: multi-grain muffins, apple slices, tomato slices, raisins, craisins, cashews, water, huh; for supper: twice-baked potatoes and applesauce, aka. Mommy Dearest did not feel like cooking (which of course resulted in the best-eaten meal in weeks. Oi!). Girl and I made weird brownies before bed, meaning no sugar (just honey and agave nectar), no flour, and half the butter. But eggs. And beans, too. So they're pretty good, but haven't actually completely set yet, so I can't expound.
Feeling: Tired. And fighting off a migraine all day. Like a bad mom. And like I never want another dog: they're too much pain in the butt for what they're worth to me. Oh, I'm so hardened. (I've never been an animal person or a good liar.)
Sleeping: Apparently, not enough. I pulled a Kevin last night and woke up confused and scared, asking, "Where's [Boy]?" I scared the crap out of Kevin. Boy was right there next to me. That was a confusing paragraph. Re-read.
Wearing: Green cotton bermudas with cargo pockets; brown, ribbed, long tank with a built-in bra (love 'em!); NewBalance tennies, except in the water; pony tail (yikes!). No rings, due to healing poison ivy, and no earrings, due to ridiculously swollen ear, which doc says is a bug bite... What?!?

Good night and--you're right!--good riddance.

Catsup

Wow, that's pretty bad. Every night I intend to write, and then something always happens.

Sunday, I was down for the count with the second killer migraine I had last week. Luckily, I had just managed to usher both kids into dreamland, so I just made sure the doors were locked, took Tylenol (as always, a joke), and fell into my bed in a dark and messy room and slept hard until the next morning.

Monday, I went to Pilates for the second week. Love it. Was going to write about the experience driving home after nearly two hours of being just Devon, Guns 'n' Roses crooning one of the best songs ever, "November Rain," all my car windows open to the summer, the sun setting in a crystal clear sky--sort of that electric red that whites to a very pale blue--lined with telephone wires and dotted by the unnatural orbs of street lights, and bordered by the cityscape that is outer Durham. Yea, things. This emoting and enjoying brought me an epiphany in relation to my novel which, unfortunately, is going to cost me another 150 pages or so and the partitioning of the book into a first and second part (tentatively titles Eros and Agape). Fortunately, it is going to make the book stronger, I firmly believe, and deal with that pesky problem of needing the main character to deal with her fatal flaw and actually change during the course of the book.

Tuesday... That was yesterday? I don't even remember anymore. I was cleaning the kitchen when I should have been blogging, and somehow I lost whatever it was I had to say. Oh, no I didn't! I was going to give a book review and a movie review and talk about my new choices from My Best Books in the Whole Wide World Ever List, but the movie we were watching just seemed to go on and on and on and on and then we were ready-and-a-half for bed. The reviews, if I chose to do them now or later, are for Pippi Longstocking (book) and for The Kite Runner (movie (which was a book, I know)). Next books I will be choosing from the Book List: Men Without Women and The Pilgrim's Progress.

And now it's Wednesday, and I guess that today I was thinking about writing about the days that I missed. I have also been cleaning and keeping house all week while maintaining a certain amount of enjoyment and identity and even great times with the kids and my husband, but have completely run out of steam right after dinnertime tonight. I thought that the whole machine was self-energizing, but it has fallen like a crappy cake out of the oven.

Too many similes. Too few smiles.

Good night, and good riddance.

Too Tired for Wit

Made "healthy" chocolate chip cookies last night, and they were really pretty good. Good enough to be gone by now. And with no eggs, butter, sugar (in it's more conventional form), and very little flour (whole wheat). Also started Yoga classes this morning. Way too fun. I basically spent a beautiful summer morning laying on my back on a little mat in the grass of a garden and staring at the leaves silhouetted against the blue sky, breathing deeply, listening to the sounds of the market, releasing stressful thoughts, occasionally stretching an arm or a leg or something else up and around, and thinking over and over (instead of "om," which I find a little too empty, which is the point, I know), "God..."

Appointments: Yoga. And then a baby celebration, which I guess is like a baby shower, except the baby is already born and it's not a first baby, anyhow.
Doing: Pretty much just yoga, baby celebration brunch, then loading up the kids to get the oil changed while walking around the outdoor mall and visiting the kid's section of the bookstore.
Being: Pretty relaxed--considering--, which is so typical. I hate being typical.
Eating: A power bar... I hate writing that, already!... before yoga, and then a whole ginormous thing of water during yoga on a NC summer day; totally chowed a bagel and fruit at the brych, post-yoga; baked mackerel and wheat pasta, both with a hazelnut-red pepper sauce, and dilled peas for lunch; per Girl's request, tuna salad for dinner, mine with onion and celery and served on Wasa fiber flatbread crackers. With apple juice. for dinner. The remaining chocolate chip cookies for snack. And water next to me right now even though I sort of wish it were a package of Soft Bake Cookies and a bowl of Maruchan Ramen Noodles. Not even vegetarian ones.
Feeling: Didn't I answer this already? I'm starting to be confused about what I meant the "Being" category to be for.
Sleeping: Stayed up too late for the morning yoga class. How many times have I said "yoga" so far? And am staying up too late right now for the early church service tomorrow. Must... push... through. Or not. Getting too little sleep is detremental (sp?) to your health and your relationships, among other things.
Wearing: Grey yoga pants (surprise!) with a grey tee with cut off sleeves and a photo of Ernest Hemingway. NewBalance tennies (some of the time); then a yellow sundress with ruffly spaghetti straps; then tan cargo shorts, a brown tank over a blue tee, opal antiques earrings, and London Birkenstocks. What a loser. I felt like the mommiest mom at the mall. Or at least the weirdest one.

In conclusion (sic), let me quote from an email to a friend.

"Because while I would not change what has happened and what we have done, I find myself fantasizing about the way it might have been otherwise. I thought--and Kevin might totally disagree with this--that having kids has been really stressful on the bipolar, almost to the point of breaking. But aren't they worth it? And how could Kevin become a better man without them... without us?"

"But what has resulted is 7 months and counting of almost continuous monitoring (and advice, advice, advice) of all the minutiae of our life. And when people see you up that close---I don't care who you are--you are going to lose a lost of respect. And to top it off, people were right there when we were at our absolute worst, especially Kevin. And he has been, and will be, long-suffering because of it. When will everyone trust him again? When will they believe in him again? When will they leave him alone? Or admit to their own rebellion? We had just gotten used to being looked up to by EVERYBODY. And then everything was so public. And of course, many people still don't even really understand bipolar, anyhow. And even when you do--Lord, I know--it's hard to separate the man from the madness."

Good night.

And good riddance.

Blind as a Bat, and Without Sonar to Boot

This is a little awkward since I've already removed my contacts for the night and don't feel like locating my glasses. I can't actually read the screen unless I am within 6 inches of it--and even then it's blurry--which puts my face directly above the keyboard. This is strange and uncomfortable, so I'm not sure I can entertain you tonight, whoever you aren't. I've been wearing glasses for many years and this is a first.

I think I just need to call it. Sorry.

Back in Grey

I think that I will begin with some reviews.

I finished reading The Bridge of San Luis Rey awhile ago (my book one of the 100+ best novels ever). I thought it was interesting enough, most of the time... I had to make myself keep reading, which is sort of saying a lot for a novella (it that's what you would call it). And then... the ending was a disappoint. I know, what do I know better that Thornton Wilder. I guess we'll leave that to be determined, but I thought that--although there were some very quotable quotes throughout and plenty of little snippets to think on--the whole thing dissolved into sentimentality at the finish.

Now I am reading Things Fall Apart (cited earlier in my blog as Things Come Undone, an unfortunate mesh of said book and She Comes Undone, likely). So far, so good. I can see (at least now) why this book would make it to so many lists of top books. Am enjoying.

Last night we popped in War Dance from our Netflix queue. This is a movie very worth watching. Granted, you stand up stretching from your couch, popcorn kernels falling to the ground, your pjs crumpled and your bed gaping for you, and you don't know what to do next, like this giant chasm of helplessness has opened between you and your next step. The documentary is ultimately one of hope, and yet you can't help feeling a little like perspective has crept up behind you and placed an ice-cold hand around your neck. You may weep. You may find yourself disturbed several weeks from now when the movie crosses your mind again and you realize you have done nothing different, have continued your obliviousness. It is one of the balancing acts of modern society to know so much and to do so little... How much can we do? How much should we do? I feel myself floating away above myself even now. So, do rent it. You should know these stories about Ugandan rebel-murderers, and there is no better way to really get the stories in a compassionate and humane way. Humane. That's good, because I really felt like the kids in the documentary were so human, so humanized, despite their utter removal from my own life, my own world.

Speaking of which...

Appointments: Girl's second free Tae Kwon Do class. (It was another intro session, really.) Dinners of Eight, which is this thing our church does a couple times every summer where you put your name on a huge list and you get paired with other people--totaling eight plus kids--to do dinner at one of their houses.
Doing: Cleaning, cleaning, cleaning, but not getting anywhere. Nursing, cooking, feeding, dishes... Watching the storms blow through one after another after another, day after day after day.
Being: Nauseous, or at least crampy in the abby area, for the past few nights. And very itchy in the hands: I have once again contracted poison ivy from the laundry. Did I say that in the blog already? A little panic-y that Kevin is a little depressed the last few days. He hates his job (the main one), and I hate to see him struggle week after week, and we gain some ground and think the medicine is working and then we lose ground and find ourselves staring at this gaping hole.
Eating: Fresh and yummy stuff. This morning: purple smoothie; lunch: homemade whole wheat noodles with butter and parm; dinner(s of Eight): Marinated, grilled veggies (straight from our CSA farm); roasted corn (straight from our CSA farm), quinoa tabbouleh (with not so much parsley), green salad, sweet tea with mint, and 2 desserts! Raspberry-blueberry pie and chocolate checkerboard cake with chocolate frosting. Everything homemade. I was in heaven.
Feeling: Did I cover this already? I don't know. Just like time is rushing around my legs, a river, and there is nothing about it that I can grab and hold to myself.
Sleeping: Up too late last night and spent another morning on the couch snoring (maybe) while Girl watched PBS cartoons and ate pretzels and yogurt.
Wearing: Jean miniskirt (How ridiculous is that, mom?), grey v-neck t-shirt (maternity, to cover the ol' post-partum belly), chucks, turquoise chandelier earrings, bangs kind of back and hair kind of teased with "surf" hair stuff.

I should jet before my poor little tired guy wakes up again. PS. Boy is officially (again) huge. We are now told that he needs a special car seat, since he is too young to go into the next stage, but has exceeded the height and weight regulations of infant car seats. Also, at 6 months, he is as big as or bigger than Girl was at 1 year. What a chunka monka.

Have I mentioned that I started Pilates? Enjoying.

Good night and good riddance... or maybe not so much.

I Like My Sign-Off

I'm completely riding on the fact that I got my first ever bog comment today. Hurrah for me! Or really, hurrah for whoever was kind enough to breeze through my life and send that little comment.

This won't be long, though, since we spent the majority of the night doing some federally-mandated financial counseling... blech, if you know what that means... Plus, my left hand is slightly immobilized with bandages, which I have wrapped around most my finger and knuckled to keep myself from spreading poison ivy to my baby. I have no real idea where I got poison ivy. We have no shortage of it in the yard, and yet I have spent no real time out there recently, and somehow our dog never seems to bring it in. But since I get it on my hands every once in a great while, I can only assume it is one of the many joys I am allowed to glean from my responsibilities as family laundress.

Boy's poop perils are getting worse, despite my valiant efforts at sneaking stool softeners into his baby food (just psyllium husk and flax seed oil) and pushing water, water, water... And I started Pilates at Emmaus Way; donation only, which means I will be riding on the backs of others, at least most of the time. The Pilates were killer, but I felt so great afterwards, listening to Gypsy Groove all the way home, the wind in my hair, concentrating on my posture and my abs... I notice that at the moment my posture is back to truly sucky.

Looking forward to starting Yoga this come Saturday at Durham Farmer's Market. Yoga by the people, for the people... again, FREE! I have just found so many ways to do things for free, which is really crucial to my life at this point. So, yee-haw.

Need to pull brownies out of oven (which husband requested with such a puppy dog face) and then hit the sack.

Good night and good riddance.

Marathon

Appointments: Church, but decided the whole family needed to sleep; Emmaus Way Church in the evening with Lauren: went despite ensuing storms.
Doing: Baking bread, churching, eating, hanging out. It's a Sunday.
Being: Thoughtful. And unable to believe that the days and nights have been just slipping away from me in a confusion of tiredness, fireworks, dishes, and lack of motivation. I flip on the telly last night and there is nothing I can do to reclaim those two hours. Two hours! However, the hours spent watching the Food Network in Fuquay-Varina over the holiday... totally worth it.
Eating: Lots of really great and...surprise!...healthy foods. This morning was Orange Whirl smoothie, then for lunch: couscous with lots of fresh herbs, walnuts and artichokes; crostini with feta-spinach spread heaped on top. Dinner was more of the same, and some sort of lemon pie and communion bread at the church.
Feeling: I am having a hard time connecting with and/or identifying my own feelings, lately. (Well, lately may be the last few-several years). So, I don't know. I'm hopeful? Longing? Stressed? Worried?
Sleeping: After two nights of staying up way too late at my sister's house, we forced Girl to go back to bed this morning and all got some much-needed sleep. Yea!
Wearing: Well, that striped, button up, princess-waisted shirt is getting a little tired, but it was oddly paired with some khaki courderoys and chucks and antique-style opal earrings. Hair down (at least for church).

My late-night enthusiasm is starting to wane, but if I keep up the rituals of no TV, blogging, and writing... PJs and a snack... perhaps I will find my second wind and stick with it.

My son is having a hard time adjusting to solid poop, and I have to go comfort him. Ah, the glamour of parenting.

Not blogging tonight, again. I'll be back tomorrow. I know all none of you are holding your breath and waiting for an update, but...

Happy Fourth.

Late Night, Strawberry Pie.

Whew! Can't believe we're just finishing up dishes at this time, sitting down to strawberry pie over blogging and so tired.

Appointments: Daughter's weekly library class at 1030am; hang out with friend Lauren (and run to get some groceries while at it) in the evening. Pick up co-op food box between 4pm and 6pm, which I sent Kev to do on his way home from work.
Doing: This, and also continuing the once-a-month grocery extravaganza with a big trip to Whole Foods this afternoon. Some watching of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe with Girl and lots of chatting with Lauren.
Being: I don't feel capable of thinking that abstractly at this moment.
Eating: Perhaps the most exciting thing I will write tonight, which is not saying much. Strawberries for breakfast; Panda Puffs (like natural peanut butter Cap'n Crunch; my favorite cereal) with milk for lunch; for dinner, a raw food Thai salad in coconut milk over rice; for snack tonight: another raw food wonder: strawberry "pie" made from ground nuts and dates (the crust) and sliced strawberries in a blueberry puree which is set with psyllium husk powder... whatever that is.
Feeling: Pretty just whatever all day, and then since talking to Lauren, many deeper things. This includes feeling a fire under the butt and also some sadness about a couple things she shared (confidential!--as if anyone were reading).
Sleeping: Soon! Please!
Wearing: I'd rather remark about how I'm often just plugging along, sometimes for hours, on my laptop and then without warning the cursor just does something inexplicable and crazy. Like just now, it jumped over the left margin and opened some program I'm not sure I've ever opened. Then it's over, quick as that.

Good night. and Good riddance.

Appointments: None, but then wandered off to Costco for first-of-the-month grocery shopping when I realized Kev had a night away planned for a work party. Yes, just me and a three-year-old and a baby and a cart full of fruit and juice.
Doing: Currently, my almost-six-month-old son is actually snuggled into my lap, staring at the glow of the computer screen, and holding on to my thumb as I try to type with the handicap. It is so silent, I am listening to his breathing, and the tap of the keys, and the whir of the fridge in the next room. In the distance, I head an occasional clank as Kevin messes with trying to fix the bathroom sink. It is late for all these things, but we have both had long and busy days.
Being: Weather is finally cooling and little into the 80s so I was happy-happy-happy to throw the windows open and pop on the fans. Limiting my cleaning, but still so much to pick up and sweep up as I move from room to room, teaching children how to babble and how to write their ABCs. (Girl asked for salt on her noodles today, which I honored only a little and told here to stir it in. She was very serious about this and then looked to me and proudly announced, "It's all incorporated!")
Eating: When I realized I hadn't eaten at 11am, I opted for a protein bar and a lot of ice water. Then, rice noodles with broth and peanuts for lunch. Dinner was really yummy: there's this zucchini casserole that my Aunt Caroline used to make and I have been craving it. So when we got a bunch of summer squash from our farm co-op, I thought perfect! I made this, and added fresh basil, and then cooked quinoa on the side and served it as one big mess. It really his the spot! (And on the way home from Costco, Girl and I rooted into the "Natural Cheetos" that she--at three--actually talked me into buying... or more like wore me down over the past couple weeks.)
Feeling: Writing this blog has made me realize that I am either melancholy more often than not lately, or I just have a real bum time before bed. I think it is the former, b/c I love the pall that happens in the evening and into the night, and always have.
Sleeping: Once again, and even worse than normal, it was so hard to get out of bed this morning. I actually recognized this fact, and moved my sorry hide to the couch so that I could sort of be with Girl as she ate breakfast and watched cartoons... and I snored.
Wearing: Tight, fuschia tank; silly, short, terry-cloth shorts, and that's it. Had the decency to throw tennis shoes and a pink tee over this to make an appearance at Costco. Thank goodness I am not famous. It would take way too much consideration to leave the house.

That's it for tonight since dishes still remain undone, Baby still un-put to sleep, and a budget meeting is needed for the first, tomorrow. (Boy is a few rooms away now, relaxing with Dad, and he is loudly talking to him about his new teeth coming in, in these loud grunts and squawks, and the occasional syllable or yell. He is too cute and he is making even Kev giggle to himself.)

Have I Been Forgetting Titles?

I'm putting in an early blog tonight, and writing between thunderclaps and before my computer runs out of juice. Please wait, I have to turn on the fan...

But now I feel like I can't hear my babies. And I'm already so jumpy tonight with reading to Girl from The Last Battle and then catching maybe 3 minutes of Jurrasic Park 2 or 3 in all its appalling gore, and what with the raging storm outside and me home with just the kids on this another weekend evening.

Maybe this blog will never make it anyhow. The autosave keeps failing, perhaps in the storm which is making me jumpy.

Appointments: Just church; the late service since we stayed up late watching Chicago and did not want to roll out of bed.
Doing: Spent the second half of the service in the Nursing Moms Room chatting with a girl named Tiffany (which is really like the perfect 80s name). Then russled up a big lunch since that's what we're doing on the weekends now before we send Dad off with a sack dinner. Then just laundry (always), dishes (always,) and some chatting on the phone and sending of emails to people in Germany. Juggled both kids into bed and found myself in here with a nagging feeling that I should be writing my novel. (But then there's this book sitting next to me, calling out, too...)
Being: Jumpy. And queasy, too. Or maybe it's more crampy. And still jumpy.
Eating: Cornmeal pancakes for breakfast (re-heated from a batch I threw in the freezer the other day. Great idea!); Baked salmon, re-baked Irish potato casserole, and sauteed green beans straight from the farm for lunch-dinner; Just one little helping of stove top goulash for supper (while Girl ate noodles and butter, surprise surprise). I'm actually eating cold goulash right now, which I'm thinking is not helping my stomach any.
Feeling: Did I mention jumpy? But, as I wrote in my journal earlier, I had a moment where I suddenly felt like I could take a breath. This bi-polar thing has been pretty all-consuming at times, and I have wondered when I could ever have a break, but after Kev said this most normal and reassuring prayer at communion this morning, I felt a rush of relief. Of course, then I quickly checked myself to make sure I wasn't slacking and letting my guard down, and then I chided myself for not being able to relax and then...
Sleeping: Sort of already mentioned. Also had a time this afternoon while getting in my one TV time per week (with PBS cooking shows) when I just wanted to slump over my sleeping baby and fall asleep like a baby myself. Not allowed, when you are the primary caregiver of a 3-yr-old as well. Found myself wondering why I am such a tired person. I think it may be lack of exercise.
Wearing: What was I wearing? Jeans, which were discarded when Boy spit up all over the crotch. Plaid, big-waisted, brushed-flannel, ruffle-cap-sleeved, blue and black shirt which I wear whenever it's clean. Chucks. Turquoise and mother-of-pearl, modern, dangly earrings.

I had some spiritual revelations this morning. Or at least I think they were spiritual revelations. And yet, I think that I will talk about goals. So, I finished that best book list. Now I need to get those quotes on the wall. And write those thankyous. The house is almost completely recovered from the yard sale, and all I have left to finish up at this point is the hallway. So, after tomorrow... Next big goal, to start this week (with the thankyous): work feverishly on the novel. Or another novel. Or a short story or a poem, but probably a novel. I feel the need to delve in. And I feel that purposeful swirling inside of me. So what am I doing blogging? Lord knows.

And He's probably none too pleased.

Appointments: Between yesterday and today, a lot. Starting with dropping daughter with some friends and then going with Kevin down town for a financial meeting of sorts. Then back home to keep cleaning before cleaning up for a ladies' night out at the church. This morning, it was a little more cleaning and driving my sister and brother-in-law to the airport to catch a plane to Germany (and Paris and the Netherlands), then more of the same until Kev left for work.
Doing: All of this, and laundry and snuggling and cooking and packing dinners and giving away makeup and reading endless children's books.
Being: Stuck in the air conditioning. Avoiding the phone and other intimate social interactions. Thinking. Avoiding the telly. Adoring the kids. Avoiding the dishes.
Eating: Really scraping the bottom of the barrel as the month draws to a close, so... things like potato casserole and sugar-cinnamon oatmeal (while Kev was busy fixing the oven). Although, this morning I did make a smoothie (I adore smoothies) that came to me in a dream. It was a strawberry cheesecake smoothie (with some citrus thrown in and no other sweetener besides banana). It was REALLY good. yum.
Feeling: Between yesterday and today: nervous; relieved; stressed; rushed; thankful; exhilirated; pensive; bored; awkward; inadequate; trapped; comphy; content...
Sleeping: Man, you could feel in the room how hard we were all sleeping this morning. We did not want to get up! Everyone's working so hard nowadays.
Wearing: Last night I put on my favorite post-pregnancy jeans, only to find out the ladies' night festivities were out doors. I was sweating in my princess-waisted, striped, button-down all evening. Plus my buck-fifty, big dangly earrings with the flowers and the white sequins.

It is nice sometimes to be allowed to open the car windows all the way (especially now that my hair can take it) and turn on my own music. Especially since it smelled so wonderful last night. This frangrant-floral smell that runs over the earth in North Carolina--even in the cities--is what romanced Kev and I when we visited more than six years ago. That and all the flowers in the trees and in the highway medians.

I think Kev must be home since the dog we're watching for my sister is barking suddenly and I look to the corner of the computer screen to see that the whole night has gotten away with me and no wonder I'm hungry. I turned on Chicago while I helped my little 5-month-old to sleep and was impressed by the sheer depth of the film: there is no shot that is not exacted. But I am also reminded how pervasively sexual the film is. I keep wondering if the original writer of the musical had innuendos intended for all those instances.

I have come across two free yoga classes just when I really need and want them, but can I possibly fit them into our lives? How can I subtract from the time I have with Kevin, and how can I expect him to watch the kids two nights a week on top of one and three-halves jobs? Which leads me to another question: How can I manage to work from home, even a little, when as Kevin works more and more I am left with more and more to do as a mother, wife, housekeeper, laundress, cook, financier (Is that the word I'm looking for?), etc.? Maybe I should just concentrate on finishing the novel. Then again, is it a "sign" that these classes I was looking for just popped up?

I Googled myself and some old friends, today. I actually found some information on someone I had lost touch with eight or so years ago. He was married in 2004 and is living overseas, writing papers on art. That's pretty much what I imagined. There's another couple friends that I have never been able to find. This always seems like a dissonance to me. I have enjoyed these people, cared about them. My loyalty is at odds with the river-ness of life.

What am I doing? If you Google me, you come up with my past schooling (fading awkwardly into the distant past) and my captaining of my teeny-tiny NAMI Walks team this past month. What do you expect to find when you Google yourself? Something more than that. I think you expect to find that you are unique and that you are varied. That you are accomplished. And yet the facts of life are that you are common and you are specialized and you are oblique, at best. But I am young enough, I do not feel settled about this. I have a lot of learning to do. I am curious to know if the learning I have to do is to accept the commonality or to seize a destiny.

I am tired. I'm always tired. But I'm starting not to make sense. So that's pretty tired.

Kevin fixed the stove today and when you live with bi-polar all these little things are good signs or bad and they all together point somewhere. This is a good sign.

Appointments: Absolutely none.
Doing: Obsessively cleaning house. I made it through about half the house today, and also managed to read several books out to daughter and play a few games of something with son. By something, I mean just talking baby talk, varying my facial expressions and proximity to his face, and smiling.
Being: Besides stressing myself out about something as trivial as cleaning... quite content. I really love being a stay-at-home.
Eating: Still in some strange grey world that is not my usual cooking and eating habits. Not sure about it. And I also managed to get locked out of the pantry/laundry this morning, so there was no breakfast. Kevin saved us in time for lunch, which was cornmeal pancakes with syrup. Then cheese-crackers-jam for snack (one of my faves) and for dinner? In between dusting and sweeping... boxed tomato-red pepper soup laced with cheese tortellini and topped with parmesan. Side of peas. I am currently hungry but feel incapable of rustling up a snack (besides the frozen orange juice bar I had earlier).
Feeling: A little in a funk, but don't know why. Wondering about a lot of things and about the Psalm I read earlier. There will be vindication. And what am I doing just mostly messing around?
Sleeping: Really had to pry my eyelids open this morning, but for what reason, not sure, except that my love affair with sleep is seemingly life-long. My husband has--per my request--popping the brightest bedroom light on in the morn before he leaves, and I feel like such a terrible mom not being able to roll into the family room to join daughter for cartoons and a decent breakfast, immediately.
Wearing: What was I wearing? ... Green knickers made out of sweat material; brown tank top with one of those wonderful built-in bras; pink tennis-shoe-like house shoes (for my "bad" feet); another one of those blessed pony tails (although upon taking hair down tonight, I look at it sort of sleek and messy and think, not bad, eh?).

Also managed to completely muck up our finances for the second time this month. Thank goodness that Kev managed to notice that there was -$30 in the checking in time for me to make a transfer and later do the balancing. Oops! Just forgot to account for a $200 check that hadn't yet cleared! What an idiot. It's hard--in many ways--living on the razor's edge. I can't wait until we can breathe a little. And yet, I am amazed at how far we have come since the crash landing at the beginning of the year and somehow God seems to keep us from completely failing.

Baby needs tending so I am out.

It was 1030pm and I was curled up in bed, having my feet rubbed by my husband, staring blissfully into my son's eyes as he fell asleep. I started to wonder about how to blog about such a thing as watching a baby fall to sleep as you share a loving stare (an experience which I can only describe as sublime) when I myself drifted off to sleep.

I must have amazing discipline to return to blogging at this point. Or I am self-torturing. I am only committed to a cursory blog, at this seemingly late hour.

Appointments: None, really, except that I told my sister I would meet her after her doc's appointment to walk around the mall with the kids.
Doing: Walking around the indoor-outdoor mall on a supremely hot day, showing three-year-old how to "window shop" (which she proceeded to practice at Build-A-Bear), and eventually deteriorating into seeing a matinee complete with a bag of popcorn, each morsel prized at an out-of-my-league approximately 10-cents-a-kernel. Otherwise, only spent the money on the gas and the very inconvenient foray into a store on the way home to let above three-year-old have an emergency pee break (and bought wet wipes).
Being: Right now; too tired to be very coherent.
Eating: Hardly worth mentioning at this late hour, except that I had popcorn no less than two times today. The second time, I tossed with olive oil so that "we won't feel guilty." My husband corrected me: I alone an avoiding feelings of guilt in this situation.
Feeling: Very in love with my children, which is what I am usually feeling. Also continue to have occasional shock waves of post-bi-polar-episode syndrome. Oh yeah... Have I forgotten to mention? Of course I know it. Truth or Dare time: My hubby has bi-polar. So sometimes even the littlest things that he does throws me into an hour of mental panic and very serious emergency planning. And then it's nothing. We are all still getting used to all this. Today, he went home early from work and I spend the whole drive home wondering if I should have emergency money is an off-shore account. Or a shoe box. Or, for unity's sake, nowhere. Things like general job security now sit more like the illusion that they always were.
Sleeping: Very soon.
Wearing: Yeah right.

Saw Kung Fu Panda. Have a lot more to say about that.

And finished the book list. Have chosen Chinua Achebe's Things Come Undone (is that right?) to start with. But am also still finishing a couple other books. More to come.

Things do come undone, at least sometimes.

Going Through the Motions

I am "supposed" (as I tell myself) to be spending this time in reading, prayer, meditation... but I'm not. It is the slim, couple moments before I fall asleep, and little boy is snoring very lightly beside me.

We just watched August Rush to forget that my wrist is sprained (Is it? From what?) and the knot is still in my neck. It worked. The movie was fine. There were some very positive points, but I think that if you are going to make a movie about a creative genius, you should probably have another creative genius writing your script. The writing was flabby, unspirited.

Have not done any reading today, either. But the 100 best list is almost done. Maybe that's how I sprained my wrist; tapping away at the computer all day. (And how am I still raising kids, full time? Not well, probably. And making meals and bread for people and cleaning up house and shuffling drawers and doing laundry and...)

Kevin is doing his quiet time. Good boy, and good night.

Extra! Extra! Science Begs for a Designer!

Appointments: Early Church, then feed a friend's dog on the way back to church in the evening to hear the preeminent Tom Phillips (the physicist) give a talk about God and science.
Doing: Getting up too early for my taste, and sending hubby off to work in the afternoon to spend a stormy evening putting the kids to bed and lonesome.
Being: In and out of the minivan and counting the cost: about $15 just today for two trips to church (15 minutes away) and one trip for Kev to and from his security job (20 minutes away).
Eating: Another strange day, begun with a protein bar (for glucose levels) and sweet tea (for caffeine) on the way to church; leftover chili for lunch; a rice krispie treat for snack, with daughter; and for dinner, I stuck whole wheat noodles in a pot and mixed mine with marinara, parmesan and gobs of parsley, and daughter's with "butter, only."
Feeling: Sick to my stomach, at the moment, from a quick jalapeno dip that turned out to be super greasy on bagel chips. Other than that, really contented at the moment when we were all piled in the baby's room, the windows open, the fan going... daughter and I both at our sketch pads with oil pastels, 5-month-old playing with his toys in the crib and babbling, Kev propped in the corner with Guns, Germs, and Wars.
Sleeping: Not enough, since I've been waiting up for Kev to get home from the second shift and then woke up this morning to hit the early church.
Wearing: Really... dark grey v-neck (admittedly maternity), black, knee-length skirt with tulle overlay, chucks with pink anklets, pink flowered hair wrap over a--again--crude pony.

I wrote in my journal today that "I feel there is a great life crouched inside me--waiting like the strings of dimensions at the [beginning] of the universe... I believe the release of this life is a mystery: God is the sun, rain, and loam that determines its destiny. Perhaps making this 100-best-books list is worth more even than a life of meaningful reading. Perhaps it is acting as an awakening of the desires. More likely, scripture, prayer, and meditation are slowly unfurling the fire, and the book list is the tool that the spirit is first being met with."

Other than that, I feel too tired to write, and I can tell that I am not being at all interesting tonight, if I ever am. Plus, I have this ridiculous knot in my neck that honestly feels like a half of a golf ball on palpation.

So I'm finished.

Freudian

Last night's dreams included:

-I'm at a camp, except it's really more like college with it's campus-like setting. We all play a game like laser tag except it is played in a museum-like setting which seems a little more like an old movie theater. I get a really awesome high score, but escaping detection elludes me. My friend Vinnie--in sports-drama style--sees my potential and takes me under his wing to train me and make me like the best player ever.
-Still at the camp, but now we are going to a prom-like event. I am walking in a stream of people when I am told to take my friend James by the arm. We look a little quizzical, until we realize that we have been selected to hang out a pre-prom party at the coolest club in town. We follow our friend Phil--also selected--in, until we were told to detour to the little-less-posh downstairs. We say no, and follow Phil anyhow. When served wine, I somehow intuit through the scent of cinnamon and strawberries that it is laced with something dangerous and we jet the club. Later, many are sickened and crazed by the wine punch.
-Same camp, but I die while lying in my bunk. My friend Kari has an infant son and he can see me. I give him information to convince others that he is seeing me and that I have indeed died, but in hindsight it is not all that convincing. At night, I can see in the dark, but through a blueish haze, and I discover that there are small lizards that creep along the walls at night.

Home Alone!

First, let me say that I was wrong about both The Bridge of San Luis Rey and of The Bible. Both were included somewhere on some best 100 books list, but I hadn't gotten to them yet. So I feel better about the world.

Appointments: Sister and Brother-in-law over to celebrate said sister's 25th birthday with re-gift gift, lunch (of white chili, rice, special sweet tea for the birthday girl), and a rice-krispie-treat "cake," since my oven is broken. Saved "cake" with extra marshmallow and chocolate chips. Also candles.
Doing: Tidying up, running to Target, having afore-mentioned lunch, and sending hubby off to second-shift weekend watchman job (thus the title, "Home Alone!"). Sister and brother-in-law also turned around and treated me and the kids to dinner out.
Being: At home, and around south Durham during a squall of a summer storm.
Eating: Mostly already detailed, except that in my mad dash this morning I grabbed a protein bar and for dinner I had a boca burger smothered in all sorts of slaw and peppers and onions and creole mustard, etc., with fries. Feel just a touch nauseated and am repenting with scads of ice water.
Feeling: Remarkably shitty. Realized I was having a hormone imbalance when I was treated rudely in the aisle at Target and responded with both a snide comment and a mumbling my way as far away as possible. Proceeded to drag 3-yr-old (mine, thankfully) around the store by the arm, snapping at her for the most innocent of behavior. Apologized later.
Sleeping: Fine, thank you, but should have gotten an earlier start to a busy morning. Must clean up, buy gift (from Dad), wrap gift, make food and drinks....
Wearing: As if it is worth mentioning that I had on ridiculously short turquoise, terry-cloth shorts and a grey t-shirt today. Barefoot (as always, against doc's orders and regretting my decision), hair magicked back into a 1/2-inch-long pony. I managed to throw in turquoise coulats (sp.), turquiose earrings, and black chucks for dinner out.

On day three of our commitment as marrieds to do our own quiet time thing. Am as of yet unaware of any quiet times done by husband. Mine are sporadic, if 2 on and 1 off can be called that.

Have made friends with our immediate neighbor, after three years of noncommunication. How? Online, of course. We met on GoodReads. He is a writer, as am I... Should I be admitting that on a blog? I can't sound very wonderful or witty on here, and I don't use the f-word whilst bemoaning by self-sustaining life. However, I think that my first novel--now at 150 pages--may actually be pretty good. Just need to get it to 300 pages or so, do some polishing, and get it to a publisher. Why is all this so much harder than it sounds?

I really just want to get back to my book list. So I need to go ready for bed, do my promised meditations, and then crash back here. I can see that this list obsession is actually going to slice deeply into my actual reading of San Luis Rey. SUCH IS LIFE! and how banal it sometimes seems.

Lots of Things.

Appointments: Dinner at some new friends' house, the Sius. 7pm. (Woah, late night for us.)
Doing: Straightening, laundry, assisting baby boy in dealing with teething pain, making that list of books to read.
Being: At'ome. And then at the Sius, of course.
Eating: We're still at the daily indulgence of chocolate cheesecake, but today we added bagels for breakfast, tuna bagels for lunch (the bagels were a free gift), and our friends made us tuna steaks, avocado-bean salad, greens salad, and couscous salad for dinner. YUM. (and I didn't even have to make it.)
Sleeping: Yeah, fine, but I need to try to get up WITH my daughter, since she is only 3.
Wearing: My cargo shorts are still too small (my post-pregnancy size still at a plus-1) and are tugging at my hips all day. Am also wearing princess-waisted shirts to cover the post-prego flab (thank goodness they are in). I pair them with a pair of 10-year-old shocking blue and orange tennies for a sort-of-retro feel. I kind of miss my long hair today.

So I am starting off this whole thing by obsessing over the perfectly organized best books in the world list. There are so many best books that I have always thought I should read that, but then didn't, or started to, and didn't. Now, admittedly, there are no certain books that we "should" read; that's just a silly idea. But then again, I feel that I can save myself a lot of wasted time and reader's disappointment by finding out what a general consensus is on this topic. Plus, the whole idea is to read things that are going to change me, make me think, and hone in on my purpose, both generally and in the finer points.

Here is what I have noticed so far:
-The best book in the world, of all time, appears to be Don Quixote, to the credit of my high school Spanish teacher and my father-in-law.
-There are a number of books that appear on many lists, including 100 Years of Solitude and A Prayer for Owen Meany, which are two of my faves. Also the book of Job (surprise to me, because of its specificity and the exclusion of other Biblical texts--oh, and the Bible), Wuthering Heights, Moby Dick, etc.
-To include Christian and Eastern texts, I had to pull from more specific lists.
-I will never--no, never--be able to read them all and
-I will still waste time on some bad books.

I am starting (for the library's summer reading program) with The Bridge of San Luis Rey, which is on none of the lists, but is sort of classic summer reading.

Now, I also have three other summer resolutions I would like to share. One, to hug everyone in my family every day. We will not go into the reasons. (This is an extension and renewal of a new year's resolution.) Two, to initiate a Friday night dinner-get-together with friends, old and new, every week. What? We may actually have friendships, still? But we're parents! And three... three... okey. I forget. Super.

Will do more philanthropic work. No more TV. THAT's what it was: three, unplug the TV when not playing cartoons, b/c TV sucks.

Had a good time at the Sius, partly because they like kids and were comfortable with mine. And the food was good and they are good people. He's an artist, which you think would be great, but I am often very uncofortable with artists, b/c I feel automatically inferior. I liked what little work of his I saw, but was unable to express it in any meaningful way. I just babbled all night about co-sleeping and my stupid self, as always. Would it have killed my to ask to see her photos? Yikes. But hopefully they'll have us over again. And they can join us for a Friday night dinner-get-together.

Almost forgot a near-perfect two hours--last night--of homemade popcorn and lemonade and a movie in bed with hubby. Walk Hard was pretty funny and surprised me by being the most star-studded movie I've seen. But I'll only see it once. Not anybody's best (Apatow, Reilly, etc.).

So that was dull. I'm off to read San Luis Rey and fall asleep.

Blogging without Blogging.

More descriptively: I've been blogging all afternoon without actually blogging. Too bad for you. :( And now I have no time left. Putting the kids in bed in about 3 minutes... wait... 2.

So this is the new life of the blogger and that's all you're going to get today, except:

Appointments: None. Shuffled in between the rooms that are my mini-world.
Doing: Raising small children, one of them who eats and sleeps (with assistance) almost all day. The other is getting a little jealous of this routine, especially when the interim is spent in sweeping up my own life.
Being: At home, in NC. Sunny, warm (maybe hot), with all the windows open.
Eating: Ashamed to say, leftovers, chocolate cheesecake, and a dinner of fake nuggets, corn, and cheese. How bizarre.
Feeling: Actually, a little down today. The calm before the storm?
Sleeping: All of us till about 9am, then baby boy stayed in the bed until 10am. What a life. Was up late, last night, after midnight researching the best books ever written, for personal reasons.
Wearing: I've been noticing a trend of not matching to match, so I went with a red knee-length peasant skirt in patterns with a red, light long-sleeved, slightly sexy, princess-waisted peasant top, in different shades, completely. Bare feet (against doc's orders), dangly earrings (as always) in red glass, and new short doo back in what might be called a pony tail.

Return from Kentucky.

As if anyone were actually paying attention...

I apologize for not blogging in such a long while. But I did warn you. Maybe it is myself that I am trying to apologize to, because I still yell at the news while I watch it, still vent loudly about bad drivers and food that goes bad quickly and...

Maybe I should blog again.

Shortie.

It's been a couple days. Didn't mean to keep anyone in suspense, out there. I have raspberry seeds in my teeth and I am about to fall asleep over the keyboard. I need lotion. I need a tissue. And I need some sleep.

How much you want to bet that's the most boring blog you have ever read?

Organized Living

I just want to know how a product makes it to the shelf, claims to do exactly one thing (namely, hold my shoes in an almost-horizontal position between 4 and 10 inches above the floor), and yet proves to be absolutely incapable of that one thing. After four years with the thing, I am just chucking shoes at my shoe rack and cursing, when this person comes to mind in a white, lab coat, scientific glasses, etc. They are standing there, looking inquisitive, with the shoe rack in hand. They look at it every which way, they weigh it, they smack it against something, and then they smile at contentedly and send it to press. Did anyone every actually think to set the thing on the ground and put a pair of damn shoes on it?!? Because surely, if they did, the would know that the thing they sold me as a "shoe rack" certainly has never and will never function as a "shoe rack."

Maybe I don't want to know. People are just not what I expected.

First Blog of a Lifetime

For the last several days, I have been "blogging" to my husband before I go to bed, aka. releasing verbal diarrhea which we laugh about and he says, "You need a blog." Not that anyone would read it, mind you, but it would allow me to go on daily--if not hourly--tirades about whatever in this world was really getting to me. And there are plenty of things in any given day that really get to me. Sometimes these things are nice. Most the time, what I do might be considered "bitching," but I like to consider it at least informed, or inquisitive, or maybe even intelligent. I have been known to say things to my husband that may not go over well with the general public.

I guess we shall see.