3 sept 2018

Sep4

It was a nice long slow weekend for us. We went for a walk at crystal bridges and ate downtown. We set up our badminton net (yes – I kept it mom!) and Ruth really got into it. Annie tried to hit it once, missed, threw her racket down in frustration, and stormed inside. She later came out after drawing about it.

They all three played in the pool and we fed them their burritos in there as well, just so we didn’t have to deal with drying them off.

They ran around catching fireflies after dark and then Ryan held Gertie as he chased them through the house.

And to give you a taste of what motivates Gertie to side step…. apparently it’s witch laughter. (And books).

I always compliment Ryan on not allowing Gertie to become sensitive to loud noises. He and the girls do a stellar job at it. Stellar.

One day I’ll write more story-like posts again, but that’s not today.

5 july 2018

Jul5

One of these days I’ll upload my trip pics. It feels overwhelming at the moment though. But I will say that, as always happens when you travel, you learn things. And I learned, by listening to my sister-in-law and her brother talk about Bulgaria, that it’s okay and downright impressive to witness one’s pride of their country. It’s contagious too. With all of these “privileges” thrown around, I don’t ever really hear about our American privilege which we all share no matter how much we apologize for this or that. I’m probably just turning into an over-the-top 70 year old, but gosh darn it, I’m proud to live in the USA.

I need a stale cigarette STAT

Mar13

Those were literally the first words out my mouth to my in-laws. I know they knew Ryan married a classy lady, they just didn’t know how classy.

It all started with their anniversary present. 40 years! Can I get a what-what?! I would’ve loved to throw them a party like we did for my parents (see here), but I didn’t think it’d be feasible. So if we couldn’t bring them to a party, why not bring the party to them? Enter our Party in a Box.
In a box full of streamers and feathers we stacked a series of gifts. The feathers were from Ruthie’s boas that I’ve been picking up all over the house and saving in a plastic bag. I knew they’d come in handy one day. I guess I figured I’d make myself a new swimsuit for the summer…

(source)

but the box will do instead. The pool patrons thank you, in-laws.

First in the party box were our toasts (aka letters).

Then the confetti from Ruthie:
The party-goers:I sent out postcards to their friends and family to write a note and they sent them back to me so I could send them all at once. There was a good turn out to the party! I’d say 40+ sent the card back.

I think I was a stalker in my past life, because I had no qualms contacting their friends I’d never met and asking for addresses. Where was this confidence in 7th grade talking to boys? Strike that, in college talking to boys. I guess it’d be weird asking for their addresses though. “Hey, aren’t you in my Psych 101 class? Yeah, so what’s your address?”

But this is where things turned. For the worse, if you asked Ryan. For the better, if you asked me.

Ah, the After Party.

For my in-laws.

Yeah, I went for it.I blatantly disregarded the phallic shape of the bottle and giggly wrapped the presents. Giggling mostly because of Ryan’s mortification. In discussing anything even remotely sexual with parents in general, he said “Carrie, guys are visual, okay? Girls are disgusting.”

But those cigarettes. I’ve hung onto that pack for two years now. They were originally during a first-time dinner date with a girl I’d met at a Hip Mamas meet-up and her husband. Did you catch that? It was basically our first time meeting them, and I laid out cigarettes next to our salad plates. It was an experiment based on a chapter from the Emily Post of Etiquette book. I never expected the turn it took. Wanna read it? Click here.

The leftover pack of cigs have been moved from mobile home to townhome to house and miraculously none were broken. Or smoked. How one was not placed in my hand after my 2 hour delivery of Annie, I have no clue. I could’ve just hung out in the birthing pool with a cigarette and bottle of Cristal while everyone bustled around me that first hour afterwards.

The night before we headed back to visit his parents, Ryan went to a fashion show to support his friend from KC who was showing his collection. His texts that night cracked me up. He said he wish he’d had a friend with him who’d actually laugh at what was coming down the runway. Because everyone took it way too seriously.

You know, when a girl walked down holding a shelving unit around her face.

Or wearing a doile around her head.

My friend, Jesyka, said, “You don’t question fashion, Carolyn. I will be wearing a doile on my face this spring.” She should’ve gone with Ryan.

After the show, he met up with his friend Christian (from ChristianMicaheal) who incidentally also does historical reeanctments, one of which we visited several years ago. At some point Ryan offered up our home for them to stay at that weekend since we’d be out of town. No big deal, I’d have done the same thing.

But when did he tell me this info? The day we were to leave for Wichita and only after I’d convinced myself to just leave the house a wreck because who cares, it’ll be a mess as soon as we walk back in the house. For some reason, I have to leave the house immaculate so that we can walk in the door to a clean home. Not this time though. It was a busy week working on a trip for my dad and I wasn’t in the mood to clean.

After hearing the news that our little home might be hosting some guests, I then had to go in overdrive to make every room look decent. Ruth watched about 12 hours of Barney and who knows where Annie was. By the time Ryan got home, I was frazzled, unkempt, and tired of hearing “I’m hungry” all day long. We got into our van and drove an hour longer to get to Wichita because one had to pee and then the other had to eat and the other had pee and the other had a blowout and then our van only drives 65 at the most and I couldn’t sleep because I have this asinine idea that if I fall asleep so will the driver and I was already tired from Annie getting up in the night and and and and. You people with young kids get it.

I was done.

And then we pulled up, was thanked heartily for our gift and I remembered.

The cigarettes.

“Don’t judge me, I need a cigarette now.” Julie must have seen a look in my eye because she ran to her bedroom and brought them out. I took one, went onto their back deck, stared into the dark acreage with the wind in my hair, and listened to… nothing. Nothing except me smoking that thing like it was made of gold. I closed my eyes and just inhaled. It was kinda like Clark Griswold’s wife, but more peaceful.

I feel like I should now start a DARE program so Ruthie and Annie don’t think I’m advocating it, but dang. It was darn near perfect that night.

Thank you ornery After Party gift.

The rest of the weekend was really nice too. That night we stayed up until after midnight talking and tried sleeping in the next day. Actually, now that I think about it, I did! 8:30! Boo-yah. We lounged around some more until we met up with Ryan’s grandma.

I wish Ruth would feel comfortable at their place. I mean, don’t be a wallflower, jeez. She was so busy. I think she ran circles around the kitchen and living room for 3 hours straight.

Then she ran circles around the couch.

They were both wore out and took good naps before going out to eat and then onto the nursing home.

I know I’m going to eat these words, but I’m never afraid taking Ruth out to eat. She normally does really well, probably because food is involved. And that night was no exception. The stars were all aligned for everyone. Dinner went well. Annie ate, then nursed right before going in to see his grandma. No one was fussing, everyone was happy.

We waited in the lobby for her to come out and when she did, she first saw Julie, then me, then Annie and she almost started crying. Later she would say, “I hope you didn’t get a photo of me going crazy. I was just so happy.”

His grandma (“maw-maw”) cracks me up. She asked if she could take ruthie back to pick out a stuffed animal from her closet. When they returned Ruth was carrying a huge panda bear, bigger than her almost. One time Ryan walked with her down the hallway because she wanted to show off Ruth, and he said she saw someone she wanted to talk to and rammed her scooter into his, almost pushing him backwards down the hall. Julie said she had to have her scooter taken away at one point because she was being too aggressive with it. Along the side you could see skid marks from who knows how many victims.

Ah, that made me smile. She’s still spunky as ever, even in her 90s.

It was a good visit and solidified my love of elderly people. My mom is thinking of volunteering at a retirement/nursing home. I might copy her and do the same. I just want to love on all these people and hear their stories!

The next morning we had a really good bible study and service around the dining room table. When I went on and on about fighting the same shortcomings every single day, Randy hit me with this verse:

The Lord’s lovingkindnesses indeed never cease,
For His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning
-Lamentations 3:22-23

They are new every morning. And that changed my outlook. God is good. God is love. He gives me grace every day. And I’m so thankful.

Afterwards we hopped back in the van to head home. The sun was shining, the girls were happy. It was just a 180 from the Friday before. Plus, we had a friend come along!

Shady! The girls are in heaven.

Shady is not. She’s exhausted. I think she’s used to sleeping all day and ain’t none of that is happening around these parts. Trust me, I’ve tried.
In other news:

…and on that note, I bid you adieu.

Mother’s Day

May14

….or more like Be a Cry Baby Day.

I honestly don’t remember being this uncomfortable carrying Ruth. Sometimes I think the baby is so far down that it might already be halfway out and I’m just walking around with a baby’s head near my knees staring at people. So I spent the majority of Mother’s Day laying on the couch. I guess that sounds nice, doesn’t it. But then the thoughts and daydreams came… and I started to psyche myself out again about the impending labor. For those of you I’ve texted or emailed during these freak outs, I apologize, but thank you for your rah rah cheers. They’re what I need at the moment.

My pregnant friends and I are all discussing our upcoming plans. And when they start talking about getting epidurals, I imagine a half-naked man waving palm leaves while feeding them grapes and giving them a pedicure. It sounds wonderful, but I know they still work hard and I totally get why women would want one. I have my own reasons for opting out of the hospital experience, some based on medical practices, but mostly it’s just personal preference. I hate staying in a hospital, period. When I had my appendix out, they strongly suggested I stay one more night, but instead I left and immediately went straight for my couch. I like being at home. That’s pretty much it. I just really like being at home.

So I spent Mother’s Day wondering how I was going to have the energy with a shot lower back and a toddler running around. And you can see it in my face.

That’s part pain, part exhaustion, part I’m wearing a tight jean skirt to church because it’s all I have clean and I could really give a rat’s ass, part scaredy-pants, part impatience, part hunger, part gratefulness for a beautiful day, part love for my family. But I’d be lying if that last part had to be focused on intensely to even make it in the pie. Why is that the part that’s so easily removed?

It did make it in the pie, though. Because I didn’t change one dirty diaper all weekend. I didn’t clean up after any meal. I was not made to feel guilty for sneaking upstairs for naps. For watching Sesame Street when normally I’d be down in the trenches playing. For barely having any meal plans ready throughout the week. For letting Ruthie throw crayons all over the living room and then asking Ryan to help pick them up. For, in general, being a grumpy butt.

So thank you Ryan, even though you never read my blog. Thank you for picking up the slack without so much a grumble.

Sunday morning I watched my girl get so excited to wear a her red hooker skirt (sorry mom, it just kind of reminds me of those red Christmas candles you put in all your windows one year that made us look like a brothel.) She does love it so and asks to wear it every day. I told her that hooker skirts were not appropriate for church, unlike tight jean skirts.

I watched Ruthie chase after a black cat. She so reminded me of Alice in Wonderland for some reason. Must be the white tights and black shoes. I’m sure she was hoping to go down the rabbit hole. But no, mean ole mom had to tell her it was time to get in the car. She stomped the whole way there.
And it made me smile. Oddly enough, when she throws a tantrum, those are my biggest laughs of the day.

We grabbed a pizza on the way home, listened to Ruth try to sing along with the cd, and talked about our faith and how it gets stronger every time we leave that place. We came home, took a historically long nap, and then played outside a bit before watching the Survivor finale and wishing other people would watch that show too.

It wasn’t eventful, it wasn’t glamorous, it wasn’t exciting. But it was my day and my life. And I really do love it, even in a too-tight jean skirt.

Present

May1

As I mentioned, it was Ryan’s birthday last week. He’s 7 months younger than me, but looks at least 12 years younger. One day we’ll even out.

So Ruth and I made him his first official gaudy birthday present, which he will have to love and feign excitement about.

Ruth loves her some play-doh, so I thought we could make something out of it. What is better than glittered, sparkly paper weights as her first gift? Oh, it makes me giggle. Paper weights.
I broke out the dough in his favorite color and got everything ready for her. Her strained smile reminds me of my mom before going to see Les Mis.

Buttons were added carefully.As were gems.

Oh boy, I love it when she gets slack-jawed and sticks out her tongue while doing things. This means she’s serious.
And the end result. Not bad… if you’re going for that gypsy bridal gown kind of look. They’re proudly (at least that’s what he says) sitting on his desk at work.

Ruth then spent another ten minutes just playing with jar lids. (Notice the tongue again.) Learning how to screw things on and off has been her latest endeavor. It scares me.

About a month ago, my neighbor Jeran offered to watch Ruth so I could organize at home…. and I went bizerk. The shelves over our dining table housed our ‘How-to’ books, middle-school fiction books, random bulk foods, and last but not least, homeschooling material… because I literally cannot pass up anything homeschool related at garage sales.

We’re not even certain that’s what we’re going to do, but I’d still like to have it all on hand just to teach anyway. It included a 12 book science set (teacher manuals and student manuals), along with tapes and projector slides. Why. Why must I keep these? They’re probably teaching that the earth is flat.

Anyway, I spent a full hour hauling those bad boys along with other material upstairs… huffing and puffing and hoping I don’t go into labor. Jeran said my face was really flushed when I came back. But I was happy because it opened up room for my slowly developing craft/paper weight-making shelf. Thank goodness for old spaghetti jars.

Could I leave it like that, though? No. As Jeran puts it, when you’re pregnant, you want to organize the world.

So I bought a bunch of these buckets on clearance to hide everything.

Ah. It did make my pregnant heart happy.

I wonder what other bad crafts I can make? The possibilities are endless!

Easter Weekend

Apr2

What a dreary dreary start to Easter weekend. Ryan had Good Friday off and we spent the day organizing and cleaning so we wouldn’t think about anything else on Saturday and Sunday. Little Ruth had other plans… like, getting sick Saturday night. So we three spooned our way into Easter morning and took the day slow. It ended up being a gorgeous day and we were thankful that Ruth could get some fresh air.

Before that, though, it looked like this:
So after breakfast, I broke out an easy Easter craft for us to do.
Ribbon, tissue paper, and contact paper. Now that’s my kind of craft project. I quickly cut an egg shape out of the contact paper, showed it to Ryan and he shook his head.
That’s how we differ. I just jump in and get going, but he likes to make sure everything’s nice and straight and even before, I don’t know, laying down train tracks for instance. I’m pretty much my dad in that regard. I don’t know if the model train in their basement actually runs smoothly on the tracks, but man those are some nice mountains and trees!

Oh well. He’s a good complement to me.

I showed Ruthie how to get started and after crying for a few minutes (that should’ve been our first sign she wasn’t feeling well – she’s happiest in the morning), she got to it.

Me, in my squealing nature, got really excited that Ruth squished up the tissue paper before putting it on the egg. And as always with information overload, I then had to explain what “adding texture” was. She slowly turned her head to look at me. I took the hint and shut up.

Then we ran over and put in our window.
It’ll probably be there all summer. Deal with it, people.

We also gave Ruth her Easter basket. Well, it wasn’t a basket, actually. I keep saying “next year” “next year”. I’ve got a lot of things to do before next year. I mean, for her first birthday, we grilled hamburgers and wrapped toys from her toy box. She was excited to see the soccer ball that she’d already been playing with for two months prior. It’s probably laziness (or being snobby), but I just can’t get into the whole first birthday party thing. Next year though. Next year will be fun!

So this Easter, however, instead of a basket, we brought in a little piano found during a thrifting venture on our weekend away. (It was given to her on our clean up day, so don’t judge.)
She didn’t touch the keys for the first five minutes, but chose to inspect all sides of it instead.
We all breathed a sigh of relief when it passed her inspections.

The audience was spellbound:
and all it took was one gesture from the pianist to said audience member…
before Cleaning Day was thrown out the window and recreating the theme song for Elmo’s World became the most important task of the day.
Some nights we will literally watch him “composing” for thirty minutes straight. I can’t wait until Ruthie’s old enough where we can share side glances at each other, then giggle.
She has taken it to though, and every so often will run to her little shelf and pull out the one book that shows a muppet playing the piano.

Hope everyone had a good weekend and holiday. It, of course, went by way too fast.

Christmas in Jamaica

Jan13

Part of our Christmas adventures was to have an official family portrait done. My brother’s wife, little Ruth, and little Kate were all new additions to it. Another new addition was my Jay Leno chin. Thankfully Ryan and me combined equal a normal chin. I was excited to have my baby bump in the photo, but had no idea that it would look like my body was literally eating Ruth.
Now that I look at it, though, she looks more like a Siamese twin, joined at the armpits, who never grew any bigger. Yeah, you know Ryan would still want this. (finger snapping in a z-formation) Bowmchickabowow.

I did nothing to her hair that morning either, knowing full well these will be framed on a wall. Ryan and I have a love affair with her “I look like I just stuck my finger in an outlet” look. Who knows, maybe she had. We wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. So I just let her hair go wild and smile to myself when I hear the nursery attendant at church say to the other ” Let’s try to tame these flyaways, Ruthie!” as I close the door. Ah, job well done, Carolyn.

It’s only because I get flack for my hair too. When we arrived at JC Penny’s, my brother-in-law said, “The colors were supposed to be black, Carolyn. Not silver.” Whatever.

So we got to the store a few minutes early and waited for everyone to show up. Ten minutes later someone asked, “Where’s Amy?” She was actually looking for the store and called for directions. Little did we know she was at another area 15 minutes away, and literally every landmark we gave was also on the intersection at the different JC Penney’s: the car dealership, the fast food restaurant, the man dancing outside the tax office, everything. Finally we figured it all out and in the meantime the grandparents got a shot with their grandkids. I love it.

ExZeogIyCJiD8xx6yf7LBUke3RbDznDCj5fag_Wmsj4,c9FAaxclMOQTEnjzw27V51JpR2gEZRK3T_Sz2E26xF8 Amy was so frazzled when she showed up, that she hid in the changing room and applied some make up. And then applied some bronzer. And then applied some more bronzer, until it looked like a private jet had landed in the JCPenny’s parking lot (direct from Jamaica) to let Amy off for the photo.

It probably wouldn’t have looked so noticeable if she wasn’t born into a family of pale-faced vampires.

Luckily, Des touched up her face so she could blend in with the rest of the Twilight crew.

Look happy Ruth, for goodness sake.

Maybe she was tired, because within two minutes of getting in the car after lunch, this is what I saw:

She had better get her sleeping in order, because we have a busy day tomorrow. It’s Christmas! Those with kids (me) woke up early (against her groggy will) to hang out with the other people who can’t sleep in: old people, aka my parents. It really is a circle of life.

Luckily all we had to do was sip on coffee and stare at the twinkly lights for a couple hours. It’s actually quite peaceful.

Around noon, everyone started showing up and we immediately got to it. Santa’s little helpers divvied up the presents and I secretly hoped that everyone would open up our gifts to them first while their expectation levels were low.

Ruthie opened up a headband and was immediately confused. This went against every scary hairdo look she’s ever known.

My mom always gets us the (big) kids the same things, so that “it’s fair.” This year one of the gifts was a towel wrap. We should’ve worn these in the JCPenney’s photo.
But then we would’ve had to wait for Amy to bronze her whole body.

My worst fear did happen though. Mom and dad opened up Matt & Des’s present right before ours. Let me just give this example: The siblings draw names and have a ten dollar limit. Lisa (the lucky dog) opened up her secret santa gift from Matt and it turned out to be a breadmaker. He must have had a damned good coupon, is all I’m saying.

So I inwardly groaned when I saw my parent’s look of happiness and love after opening up their gift.

And was too depressed to take a shot as ours was opened. It was the equivalent to getting fruit cake.

But the real fun came when the karaoke machine was opened, along with a ton of 80s songs to sing. Joe started us out with a ballad for his wife: Take My Breath Away, I think.

Lisa was trying to catch her breath between laughs. It was such a departure for Joe, who normally breaks out the AC/DC.

So Ryan took over the reigns to get the crowd moving.

Dad seems to be the only one enjoying himself.

It really is hard for the singer. Especially in this light. Take my mom for instance:
Trying in vain to make eye-contact with anyone. Not gonna happen with this crowd, sorry sister. Not gonna happen with Ruthie either. By this time she was crying every time she saw either me or Ryan. Crying every time we left the room. Crying every time we came into the room. Until we figured out that she needed teething cream, it was time for bed and no one could enjoy our silly little lady and her antics. But before we made a Walgreens run, we just avoided eye contact with her.

Slipping into a chair and blocking our face with a pillow:

Or watching the action through an afghan. We were desperate, folks.

Finally she calmed down after a combo of butt paste (sorry) and teething cream and went to sleep. Matt and Des had already left for Arkansas and Lisa & company went home to play with their new toys.

So what to do? Oh yeah, Karaoke baby! But now that it was a smaller crowd, we could get more into it. Amy showed off her dance moves:

Ryan brought the house down.

I sang heartfelt melodies…

that put animals to sleep.

So drawing on the only soul-sister blood in my body (the fact that my mom loves mo-town), I sang with so much passion and heart, you would’ve thought Aretha was right there in the living room.

The crowd went wild.
Whatever. I can’t help that I soothe people to sleep. At least mom was making eye contact. Thank you.

It was such a good and busy day. All talk, no tv, and karaoke. Can’t get better than that.

Stalking and White Elephant, a perfect pairing

Jan8

We had a good visit to Kansas City over Christmas. Ruth was teething, I was prego hormonal, and Ryan drank eggnog and whiskey like it flowed from the fountain of youth. So yeah, we had a good visit. But with that combo, I don’t know if anyone else that saw us had a good one.

After a non-eventful drive up, in which Ruth screamed for twenty minutes, then passed out until ten minutes before arriving to grandma and grandpa’s house during which time we sang christmas carols together. I catch her singing a lot to herself now and the songs, I’m pretty sure, carry notes from Les Mis. The child (and Ryan) have been made to watch clips from the Les Mis 10th anniversary about everyday for the past three months in preparation for the premiere. Ryan has asked Ruth on more than one occasion to try to act interested for the love of gawd because doesn’t she know I’m pregnant and sensitive? But I’ve noticed that he hums and sings it all the time now, so dost thou protest too much methinks?

We sang songs for ten minutes, and arrived happy….. to an empty home. Merry Christmas. My parents were at weekly their bridge club. They have more of a life than me. But that’s good. It makes me glad to know they’re keeping busy. When they got home, Ryan made a round of egg nog drinkie poos (minus me) and we all cheersed to Christmas. Then they breathed fire. By the end of the week, he mastered the ratio.

The next day, Ryan and I braved the mall to pick up some last minute gifts at the American Girl store. The shoppers there freaked me out. An older lady was standing in line behind us with her husband. After seeing the latest snow outfit on a little doll mannequin she squealed and gushed that they needed to get that too. She needs to find a bridge club. Stat.

When we got home, my sister had arrived to spend the night. So we took the opportunity to stalk my parent’s newish neighbor. A single (we think) chiropractor (found out by another neighbor) who lives with his sister (this fact has not been verified.)
He comes out to sit on his porch for a cigarette a couple times a day which lets us peer through the window and analyze the situation. Apparently he breathes in and breathes out, from what we gather. I’ll need to use the binoculars next time to double check that. As we discussed various ways Amy and I could casually approach him (you know: giving a christmas card, Wiley going poo in his yard, asking for a smoke), another neighbor walked up to his door with a package in hand.

Scandal! What did she think this was anyway? Christmas? Whatever.

That night we played Taboo, girls against boys, and said that the losing team had to introduce themselves to the chiropractor. When we lost, my mom said sternly that she was not going to introduce herself. We suggested that maybe if she did, she’d get cookies every once in a while. This was not well received.

The next day we laid around until the White Elephant party at my aunt and uncle’s house. Don’t let this relaxed face fool you.

Because this is how Ruth was most of the night:

Every party has one, so Ruth decided to be the pooper that night. Literally. Three times over… because that’s what happens when you only pack one diaper thinking it’ll be plenty, thus causing you to mooch off your cousin’s daughter who is 8 months older than your own.

We took an opportunity to get some group shots. My brother and his wife must not have shown up yet. They were en route from Arkansas. We’re always amazed at how fast they can get there. It’s been a long time since we’ve made a non-stop venture.

And the girls… one of which recently got a new haircut. At a get together not long before, literally no one commented on the cut. Finally someone said, “Carolyn you got your hair cut!” and me, literally unable to not be self-deprecating said, “Yeah, it’s my official mom cut.” And they said, “Yeah….” with voice trailing off and then changing the subject.

What. EVER!!!! It made me laugh.

After Matt and Des did arrive, an interesting thing happened. Des had brought some of her dad’s moonshine, bulgarian-style. That’s cool and all, except when it’s in a Fanta bottle. Except when a niece asks for some soda and pours Fanta for herself then takes a swig. You’d think Ryan had poured it for her because she breathed fire for a bit herself. Merry Christmas Elayna!
Can you find a culprit leaning against the wall? This was after the Fanta label had been peeled off in hopes of less confusion. I’d still think it was coke.

Ruth was only happy (and by happy, I mean, not crying. A scowl thrilled me to no end at this point) when she was in one of her grandparent’s arms. Here she is with her grandma, great Aunt Mary, and cousin Kaylee.
…not happy unless in my arms,
or in a cousin’s arms. Or with food.

Whatever it takes. Just please stop crying and pooping.
So after some chit-chatting and catching up, we dug into the meal. Homemade meatballs and pasta. Mmmm! Aunt Sue is the only real Italian. The rest of us are just wannabes.

Next up was White Elephant, which is always fun. But there was yet another sad story. First it was Elayna getting chest hair from the Bulgarian moonshine. Then my nephew, Will, during White Elephant.

It was his first year to participate and was really excited.
He watched us open our gifts, analyzed them, decided not to steal any and so decided to choose a present to unwrap.

He looked over the presents carefully then chose one.

What luck! He’d unwrapped an X-box (or something like that)!!!! He’d been wanting one and he looked at his mom with so much happiness. Lisa whispered that he might want to open the box, because things aren’t always what they seem in White Elephant land.

And what did he find inside the box?

A six pack of beer.

He was sad, but from the looks of it, his dad was happy.

Maybe next time someone will bring an X-box, Will. Don’t give up.

Next up, Christmas, bad singing, and a Jamaican relative.

Great Grandparents

Feb24

Before I assault you with a bazillion photos, wanted to see if you’ve been over to my other blog: The Mobile-Homemaker? It’s a chronicle of our journey to becoming debt free, while learning new (and old) homemaking skills. Go check it out!

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R is lucky to have 3 of his 4 grandparents still with us. And during our visit to Kansas, we made our rounds to see them.

It was wonderful.

First, we visited V. She is a crackerjack, and makes me literally laugh out loud. As soon as she was wheeled out, it was one hello to us and then all about Ruthie.

V was enthralled with Ruth’s eyebrows and asked her if mama was painting them on.

I love asking his grandparents about their past. For instance, the Dust Bowl. V had been living in Oklahoma when it hit. She was around 11 or 12 and remembers having to go to sleep with wet rags over her mouth and waking up to a line of dust on her face.

They moved to Arkansas Ozarks soon after because her mother had lived in the Missouri Ozarks and loved the area.

She also remembers roller skating down to the grocery store for her mother.

R would tell me stories about her superstitions growing up. Like, if they were walking together and came upon a pole, they could not let the pole split their path. If they did, she would make him come back around it and walk with her on the side. So, being ornery, he would purposefully run around it to make her come after him.

V will be 90 in June. When R asked her what will she do for her birthday, she said without a beat “Oh probably go out on the town.” So fun.

While we were chatting, some visitors brought valentines day notes for everyone. Ruth wanted to eat it.

Along with her eyebrows, V also loved Ruthie’s hands. She has such pretty hands. Turning to me to see if they take after mine, Let me look at your hands. Hmmm.. Let me see your hands, R. Hmmm…

I guess neither of ours made the cut.

But hers did. Can’t wait to see her again.

After our visit, we headed straight to his other grandparents. They still live in their 1950s home, full of interesting things collected throughout the years. I’m sure she is sick of me asking for a tour every time we visit. I can’t help it. Some areas are like a time capsule.

Ruth was at first aloof.

But immediately warmed up.

Family portrait time!

Look at this photo and tell me this has any of me in her. Sigh. As a friend of mine said, who’s daughter is also an exact copy of her husband, “I did carry you for 10 months. You could have had at least a little of me in you.”

We then went into the dining room for some cookies and convo. This used to be their breezeway, where R’s mom and her siblings would go roller skating.

An old highchair was pulled out and Ruth was strapped in.

Her great-grandad gave her a spoon to play with…

But Ruth only wanted to eat it. Of course. I guess that’s where I fit into her personality. Whatever.

After eating too many candies, the girls went downstairs because great-grandma had a toy whipped up for Miss Ruth.

Made out of an old box and some rope, just throw padding in the bottom and you have yourself an indoor sled! She took a tour of the basement…

And then made her way upstairs where R was also talking about the Dust Bowl with his grandad.

I guess after the major part of the Dust Bowl had ended, he and some friends went pheasant hunting. They would climb hills of dust that rose over fences and smothered homesteads. The dust-hills were so thick you could walk on it and they would do so. Over those fences and through the windows of those homesteads, out the other side.

It makes you wonder if some of those rolling hills you see are due to the Bowl. And what’s buried under them?

I love these stories and visiting these grandparents of R. But it makes me miss my own. I wish Ruth could have met them.

She will one day. That gives me comfort.

Play Date

Feb8

Ruthie sure loves her play dates. While in KC, my friend J and her daughter O came up for a visit.

J was my gateway drug into the world of starting a family.

R and I waited 5 years after getting hitched before having a baby, because, well, I was content with our lives. Why rock the boat so soon? I felt like Braveheart yelling at R and myself to Hold…. HOLD….

Then, Wait, J is pregnant? And enjoying it? And embracing this life-changer?

Okay, let’s do it.

She has been a big help, too. For instance, I made her describe in excruciating detail her unmedicated hospital birth. Like, every detail. Several times.

The biggest thing I took away from her was positive self-talk during the hardest moments, “My body is made for this. My body is made for this.”

That helped me so much.

She also encouraged me and another friend into trying cloth diapers. We all love it. In fact, every person that I know who is cloth diapering loves it.

A few days prior, O turned the big ‘O’.

One.

Her name isn’t One by the way. And she does have a face. Just not on the internet.

Ruth and I wrapped up a present for and watched as it was opened in painstaking detail.

Later we went for a walk around the neighborhood. It was a gorgeous winter day and we both huffed and puffed our way up some hills. I started huffing and puffing as soon as I got down the driveway.

We’ll be rejoining this duo and two other couples in April for a little beachside getaway. Can’t wait.

Wrapped Around Her Finger

Feb6

That’s where she’s got us.

We will do anything to get a reaction out of her. It usually results in a quizzical and confused upward turn of her eyebrows, but occasionally, we do get that one big smile that makes up for feeling us feeling stupid the rest of the time.

Grandma, doing a dance.

Grandpa, blowing raspberries on her cheek.

She made us laugh so hard. Even before he touched her neck, she made a face.

I think she was pleading with Grandma here to intervene.

But Grandma was too busy laughing. So Ruthie gripped Grandpa’s shoulder and hung on until he was finished.

Or like on Groundhog’s day… R used Pilar the Gloworm as the makeshift groundhog and reenacted the event since Ruthie wasn’t able to attend.

Here she comes, ladies and gentlemen! Everybody’s favorite Gloworm – Pilar! She’s taking her time emerging from her bed…

[Ruth was not impressed at this point]

[Until she saw that Pilar was talking to her daddy.]

Everyone, shhhh.. Pilar is trying to tell me if she saw her shadow or not.

Pilar said, “I definitely see a shadow.”

And she made her exit with a whistled goodbye song.

It’s fun having a captive audience.

Comb My Hair, and other New Year’s Resolutions

Jan1

Let’s get real. I don’t comb my hair unless company is coming over. And, really, if you’re not English royalty then all you’re getting is a finger run-through before it being thrown back into a ponytail.

Someone must have snuck into my room while sleeping with a straightener, because this photo is about as good as it gets. My hair, that is. They must have also straightened R’s mustache as well. Yuh-ikes. I’m going to add “Trim my freaking ‘stache” to his resolutions.

Look at our daughter. She makes me smile from the inside out. I’m a little nervous about having a second, because this girl is chill and I don’t think we’ll get the same thing twice. How she came to be so laid back from both of our uptight characters, I’ll never know. I’d like to think it started with the somersaults I had to do in the pool at 37 weeks to get her to turn head down.

Speaking of her, do you know what was the top post of 2011? Ruth’s official introduction: Nice to Meet You, she said. My personal favorite post of 2011? It was a tie: The debut of my baby bump and my home birth! A friend asked the other day if that experience made me leery or eager for another one. And like I told her, on the day of I swore I’d adopt the rest of my kids, but almost every day since I’ve been daydreaming about going through it again. It was both the hardest and most powerful thing I’ve ever accomplished. Click here to read about people staking out in our yard to see my baby bump. And here for when I relived the scene from Coming to America and had a hot tub in my bedroom (aka, my home birth).

As for next year, besides routinely combing my hair, I would also like to:

create a family tree for my mother’s side. My dad has this great tree framed and I’d like to recreate it, if possible, by the end of next year. With the help of my family, of course.

learn how to sew. I snagged my grandma’s sewing machine out of my sister’s loving hands and would like her to know it wasn’t all for naught. Hopefully I’ll be able to make something better than a trapezoid baby blanket.
buy 75% of my clothes at goodwill. The other 25% will probably be from Eddie Bauer. Ryan is aware that I run around behind his back with Ed, and fully approves. We have an open relationship.
make an effort to get ready in the morning. See above: combing hair. This also includes breakfast. Yes, we skip occasionally.
create a weekly meal plan. R and I talked, we’re going to go simple with our meals, with maybe one fancy dinner every now and then. I don’t know why I feel guilty if it isn’t a Cheesecake Factory knockoff with a bajillion ingredients, so I need to get over this. Soups, tuna patties, meatloaf.. These are all good. And easy. And cheap.

My Aunt S and I starting the ancestral process. Remember those long sheets of printer paper? I’d love to make a Happy Birthday sign from it again.

make sourdough bread. The thought of reducing ingredients in staples (ie: bread) makes me happy, like in this instance: store-bought yeast. I can do this, despite my anxiety.
run a half-marathon. October. I can do this. I’ll probably have to wear a hat with a piece of chocolate cake dangling in front of me, but I can do this.

Ruthie is intrigued. I hope she’s as obsessed with the past as I am. I’ll give you five seconds to try and find my parent’s newspaper stash. Go.

Pay off our car loan and some (if not all) of my school loans. We have paid off R’s undergrad and graduate loans, along with one car loan in the last few years. Selling our house, then living in a dorm room and now a shack has helped. We literally smell how close we are to having zero debt. I remember Dave Ramsey calling those school loans “pets” that we pay on a little each month. It’s like we just assume it will be a monthly expense. R and I are working hard to eradicate that cloud over us.
lose this baby weight! I gained a whopping 55 lbs and have only lost 30 so far. 10 of those went straight into Ruthie’s thigh rolls which I love. But the ones still on me… not so much.

…starting the branches…

And lastly, I would like to grow more in my spirituality and give God the thanks He deserves. I sometimes congratulate only myself on accomplishments or achievements made. He is the rock that has helped me and He is who I need to give the glory to. Upon waking in the morning, I should open my eyes and immediately thank Him for another day in which I can become redeemed.

That’s my list. I have several more, but am afraid of getting overwhelmed. Come April 1st, we’ll see how well I’ve done in the first quarter.

I hope everyone had a wonderful New Years and best wishes in 2012.

Christmas Mio

Dec27

Here’s a quick overview of my favorite parts of Christmas at my parents’ house…

1. Setting the table for brunch. It took a little arm pulling and chocolate bribing to not use the darker maroon and green napkins, but she was thankfully open to the idea and ended up liking it. I understand her reasoning, though. She has always used those colors in the tablescapes and wanted us, in the future when thinking of Christmases past, to have that sort of sentimentality when remembering those details. Like when, after arriving in Kansas from California, moving into our new house: Mom put in almost every outlet a Glade ‘Country Garden’ freshener. Now, whenever I smell that fragrance, it brings me right back to that first summer in Kansas.

2. Sitting around opening presents. My nephew W makes a great Santa, which is one role I absolute hate doing. In fact, not being Santa is a gift in of itself. Sprawling out on the couch and shoving Chex Mix in my mouth while someone drops presents on my lap is pretty darn near perfect. Throw in a foot rub and I’m never leavin’.

This year, instead of drawing names amongst the grown children, we bought our favorite thing which had to be under $7. I’m a fan of this type of gift giving because it forces you to be creative. And the good thing is, you only have to be creative once. Doing it multiple times for multiple people is overwhelming and usually ends up with me just getting a gift card. Don’t get me wrong, I love me some gift cards, but am starting to move away from them when possible. It’s like getting a handwritten letter in the mail versus an email. My stomach still flips with excitement when seeing my name on an envelope.

That being said, one year we had to make our gift for one another. I drew my brothers name and he ended up getting a big bird house with these random balls and dots all over it. Hideous. So, being creative has its drawbacks as well.

3. Watching the kids open their gifts. I asked R to do the shopping since I have now become a prisoner of R and hate to mess with her sleep schedule. He also wrapped and tagged the presents as well. For little K’s gift, he wrote To: K-, From: K-. We thought it was just being silly, but there was actually a purpose! He knew that her name was a definite word she could read, so decided to use for both the To & From so she could find it under the tree. What’s funny, is that I watched her pull it out and with her pointer finger read her name, then ran over to her mom asking if she could open it.

I was dreading it just a tiny bit, because the girls had just opened their American Girl dolls from their grandparents. And then, when finding out what M&D got kids as well, I begged to let us go first in the opening presents order. If not, I just knew we would have to endure the: “You got me a flipping bedazzelled hat, that looks straight out of The Fly Girls on In Living Color? You suck!” Yes, that’s how I imagined a 4 year old would react. Instead, she jumped up and down and my fears were relieved.

They’re easy to please.

4. Realizing that while being literally smothered in a mountain of gifts, the only thing Ruth really wants for Christmas is her fist.

5. And finally, watching the Chiefs beat the Packers. We all agreed how refreshing it was to actually cheer on the Chiefs, instead of letting out loud sighs of frustration. It also helped that my mom and I had gone to, we think, a former Chief player’s home for a garage sale. Neither of us asked, unfortunately, nor did we purchase the multiple laminated signed photos of a #25. It brought back bad memories of asking Marcus Allen for his autograph at the airport and getting de-NIED. Big time. I was eleven and am still mad about it.

Next up: craft time at the in-law Christmas.

Dodging Thanksgiving

Dec1

It was my family’s turn for Thanksgiving. R and I switch on and off for the big holidays. This year it is Thanksgiving with my side, Christmas with his and next year it will switch. We stole that idea from my sister, have jumped on their schedule, and have so far really liked it. No wondering about hurt feelings for missing a get together or trying to squeeze road trips to see everyone for everything. It has been a relaxing ride for sure. And it’s also nice that neither of our parents are so controlling that they throw a fit on our “off” years too. What a headache that would make. Thank you guys!

Speaking of thanks, was Thanksgiving not on the most spectacular gorgeous day of the year? We had the windows open during our meal and went outside for most of the afternoon. Perfect.

This is the one shot I took of us during the meal. The other opportunities came while I was shoving mashed potatoes in my mouth. Let’s not sugar coat this, it was a scary sight… as if I had morphed into T-Rex with a big mouth and short arms. And considering that my arms couldn’t reach from the table, around the corner, and into the kitchen to spoon out some more gravy, then yes, they were definitely too short.

After I rolled around for a few hours on the couch, clutching my now too taught stomach, we decided to go outside and enjoy the beautiful day…

…with a game of dodge ball. No one was spared.

Not even grandma. Her darling grandson wound his arm up….

and launched it at her.

We don’t discriminate, you have to give us that. I don’t care if you’ve just left after an extended trip to Shangri-La, you best get your agility on. (Did anyone get that reference? Lost Horizon is the first full book I’ve read since Ruthie joined me. It was an accomplishment.)

I felt like a kid again, playing dodgeball. In third grade, it was a daily staple, except we used soccer balls. So if you couldn’t dodge, you were in a world of hurt. The air was crisp and I lost track of time.

That is, until I heard a tap tap tapping on the window above. My mom was standing there holding Ruthie who had just gotten up from a nap.

Sigh. Okay, I can learn to have fun from this vantage point too.

PS. Things are slowly (and quickly) changing with little Ruthie. She is taking consistent naps throughout the day and I am feeling more and more like a normal human being… To the point that I am missing that chubby little face at my side all the time. I personally think she’s figured out this is how I can give her more kisses…because the first thing I do when she wakes up is smother her in them.

Happiness. 🙂

Stocked up

Sep6

Who else was in absolute weather heaven this weekend? My energy level sky-rocketed, especially after nearly having a tea party with a monstrous garden spider. It didn’t even have clotted cream ready to serve, which is what really caused all the drama, but more on that later.

We had early breakfasts and back-to-back days of Spades-playing with family. It was relaxing, yet interactive. Plus, R was off a whole extra day and I do enjoy his silly company. Even truer now that we are entering the twilight phase of being alone together.

But before I get into all of that, let me share my latest “Why haven’t I been doing this all along?” experiment.

A friend posted on FB that she made some homemade chicken stock. I bullied her into writing about it, because God forbid I go a day without yelling at someone to do something for me.

She obliged and here’s her blog post on how to make chicken or beef stock from scratch. Sigh, she makes everything seem so easy, so I’ve put it off knowing it must be harder than it looked.

Then I found a great deal on whole chickens at the supermarket and resigned myself to try it.

So this is my teeny, tiny batch from it! And like I’d been thinking all along, it was really easy.

Next time I need to add more water, but for my first rodeo, I was pretty proud.

The fat was scraped off from the top leaving this jelly-like stock underneath.

And right into the freezer it went. Snuggling up next to the big batch of stew that’s ready to be defrosted for baby’s Birth~~ing~~ Day. You can feed stew to a newborn, right?

Settle. I know you can’t feed that until at least 3 months in.

Have a great shortened week!

Wrapping Up

Jan11

From here on out, it will be current or semi-current updates. But this is what we get for me taking a small sabbatical.

Hands down, my favorite part of christmas this year was playing student in Miss E’s class. If this girl doesn’t do something where a crowd of eyes are staring at her, then there’s no hope for any of us. She’s a natural performer.

Setting up shop in front of the fireplace

Reviewing the class rules: 1) Be quiet while teacher is talking. 2) Raise your hand if you have a question. 3) Tell the teacher if you need to use the bathroom. 4) No interruptin’

I thought she added the accent on #4 for my benefit since I’m further south than she is. And when I did in fact interrupt, at least she didn’t try to please the Arkansas in me by saying “Oh C, you’re a mess.” You remember my disdain for that phrase… here.

K had #2 down pat, and R needed a tutor for this subject apparently.

My other favorite parts of the day? Here’s just a few:

Helping prep the food with mom in our aprons.

Gut laughs during our White Elephant party with the cousins, aunts, & uncles.

And last but certainly not least, passing around the sick baby doll and giving him shots in the rear.

The Fourth, in Fast Forward

Jul7

I don’t have nearly enough time. We have been busy moving, packing, playing cards, moving some more, packing some more, more cards and eating. In the middle of it all, we trekked down to Wichita to celebrate the fourth.

When I get back from a Regency-era adventure with my mom, I will sit down and write a proper blog post about the weekend.

Until then, here’s a snippet of our weekend:

Bus Tour

Barn Dance

Lake Swim

Car Stuck

And, yes, the car is still stuck in Wichita as of today. Didn’t even get to see a sparkler in action. Oh well, I got my barn dance in, so the weekend was still a success in my book.

I hear my parents on their way. A week in an RV with just the three of us.

Pray…. Hard.

I’d rather be here.

Jun6

Over Memorial Day Weekend, the trio went canoeing. We could go down these Arkansas rivers every day, it is so relaxing to us.

That is, until my fishing rod gets caught in a tree and the guys have to go back upstream to retrieve it.

Too much fun (at least for the person sitting in the boat taking photos.)

Mother’s Day

May18

We had a nice Mother’s Day. We ate at a quirky Indian restaurant in Eureka Springs while a lady we could’ve sworn was Janis Joplin belted out gospel music.

After a few awkward moments of verbal tug-of-war, R and I finally won the honor of paying for the meal. It’s a lot more fun for the giver when the givee just gives in without a fight.

In R’s family, it’s a different kind of tug-of-war. There’s no discussion of who is paying. You just have to pull an undercover sniper attack on the waitress to get the ticket before the other person does.

Afterwards, we went on a tram tour of the the city. The docent (thank you for the vocab, mom) was cute. Maybe I just liked her white hair, I don’t know, but I did chuckle a lot.

We drove by countless Victorian homes. The entire downtown is in the National Register of Historic Places in America.

I’m glad these two appreciate it as much as me.

We made a quick tram tour stop at a church with cool statues of the stations of the cross.

And then we saw the fudge store. Enough said.

I found some overgrown stairs and immediately climbed them. Poison oak be darned, I’m finding out what’s up there.

Houses.

And people looking through the windows wondering who this chick was with red splotches on her ankles.

Note to self: don’t wear sandals while traipsing through unknown foliage.

We visited one of the many springs in the town and then headed home. We were exhausted! Two full days of exploring, but oh it was worth it!

Can’t wait to explore the many other areas of Arkansas, possibly with some newcomers to the state? More details on that later.

Oh, Stanley!

May3

A few weeks ago, my friend turned a year older. We were on our way to visit R’s parents and stopped through on the way.

Oh my goodness.

Also, Oh Stanley!

That’s what I said every other second for the night we were there.

This is Stanley.

He’s sad.

I love sad dogs.

One time my sister and I went to Petsmart and we found Freckles. He was sad. I still regret not buying him.

Look at those eyes. I know what he’s thinking.

“Why is life so hard. What is my purpose. Who is this person shoving their face into mine. I want to jump out that window over there.”

The next day we woke up and treated S to a round of golf.

But first I had to give her a bday gift.

Our library gives some books away free. And no I don’t mean I just walked out with it. It really was free.

And this was one! Perfect for S.

This book along with a pink plastic flamingo for their housewarming gift has led me to believe that I’m probably the world’s best gift giver.

It ended up being a nice sunny (littly chilly) morning. We only played nine holes before heading off to lunch.

And I actually enjoyed myself. I think it took not playing for a year and a half to come back a little more laid back. That being said, I can’t wait for more rounds.

I wish Stanley would come along.

Happy Birthday R

Apr26

Yesterday R turned 29. Fuh-uh-inaly. I forget that he’s younger than me, so when his birthday does come around, it’s a slap in the face that he’s not turning what I will be soon turning.

So I woke him up with his favorite cookie filled platter. Oreos.

“All of this for me?”

We normally don’t exchange gifts for holidays and such, but lately we have been giving each other birthday gifts and laughing at how badly we are at gift giving.

First up, a wooden ladle for when he cooks stew and chili. He mentions it every time he makes those meals.

So he was pretty excited.

No really. He was.

He was, darnit.

And then, straight out of Sky Mall magazine, the Posture Pro for R’s slumping shoulders.

At least he thinks they are.

And like true soulmates, he looked at the exact ad in the magazine but never took the next steps to purchase it.

No, only this idiot did.

Oh well, I got a good laugh out of it, so it was worth it. And he did take it to work this morning, so there.

Happy Birthday R!

Hearts

Feb14

You can find them everywhere.

In nature: on a rock wall…

Or in a restaurant: on a ranch-dipped buffalo wing.

I love them both equally.

From my heart to yours: Hope you had a wonderful Valentine’s Day!

NYE in Dallas

Jan4

S and I have a lot to talk about during our next ESL tutoring session, oh yes we do. We meet twice a week to review english grammar, conversational skills, etc. She was born in Korea, and has lived here for about 4 years, but just wanted freshening up. Her English is fabulous and I’m really hoping she doesn’t notice how little help she needs, because I’d like to befriend her.

During some sessions we just talk (while I become the English Nazi and point out improvements). I normally ask her what she did over the weekend and one time she mentioned a trip to dallas which included a spa. It is a korean style spa and would be a good experience for you, she said.

Well, who would pass up a spa opportunity? Not I.

So last minute, R & I decided we might as well go check it out. I’d never been to Dallas, and it’s not a bad drive.

Oh, poor unsuspecting Carolyn. She really should’ve asked S more questions. Instead, she be-bopped her way up the stairs, paid the $18 for a 24 hour period, parted ways with her husband into the women’s spa area, and stopped dead in her tracks.

I literally thought I had just joined the broadway show Hair.

Except I was only the make-up artist.

And who do you think would be more embarrassed? The entire cast walking around naked, or the lonely make-up artist fully clothed?

So I quickly turned around and side-shuffled my way to the assigned locker, all the while boring my eyes into the wood floor. Wow, was this real or laminate? If this is laminate, could’ve fooled me maybe we’ll have this type put in if we move out of the dorm room I wonder who to ask should I just walk out and ask the manager?… an internal conversation that went on for a good five minutes before I faced my fears.

Because you see, you are given no towels. And in order to obtain one you have to walk what feels like a city block and enter the spa, ahem, naked. And on each side of this gauntlet, there are girls chit-chatting, laughing hysterically, and I swore I saw someone crocheting.

What made matters worse, I started thinking of my friend K’s experience in Moracco. While studying in Spain, some girls in the school scheduled a trip there for a weekend. I signed up, then backed out last minute due to insufficient funds. At least that’s what the ATM told me. But really I think it was God sparing me from what K ended up having to endure. They went to a typical bathhouse, where clothes were left at the door and everyone was brought in for a “scrubbing session.” Are you picturing people going off to their own little rooms for this? Oh no, you stood in the middle of a semi-circle of girls and got scrubbed down in front of them. Talk about being left raw. Physically and emotionally.

So here I was in this spa… hands strategically placed and made a run for it, praying I wouldn’t slip (God, could you imagine that? Wait, don’t.) and took the appropriate shower before getting into the spas After reading a sign that said “If you are disturbed that a patron has not taken a shower with soap and has entered the spa, please tell an attendant…”, I made sure every other flippin person there saw me with soap in hand. No way was I going to hold a nude conversation with an attendant regarding the cleanliness of my bits and pieces.. because you know my luck. Oh, the horror of just thinking about it.

After I loosened up a bit and realized that absolutely no one gave two rats whether I was there or not, I started to feel (drum roll) relaxed!

You’re given a guide on how to use the pools: stay ten minutes in the hottest pool, then dip into the cold one. Sit in the steam room for ten mintues, then back to the cold pool, etc etc, and by golly it worked.

After you’ve had enough spa time, you are given a “uniform”: pink for girls, gray for boys to meet in the communal area with the men.

Men. Men? Oh my goodness… R!!!!! I had forgotten about him.

He had no expression on his face when I walked out to the lobby. I asked how it went while patting his hand. He said he was thankful the locker key came with a wristband, for multiple reasons.

He did look relaxed though.

So for the next 90 minutes, we wandered in and out of various saunas. Some were more popular than others. At one point, we both almost fell asleep in one.

I can’t tell you how our bodies just caved in on itself. Wonderful.

We were absolute zombies. Just shuffling to and fro… from the spa to the saunas to what I like to call the Hall of Chairs. Limp noodles, we were.

And then.. then we found them. A magical place, full of lazy boy chairs situated in front of a movie screen. This was where we would end the night. Kiwi and Carrot drinks that look like our normal NYE spirited beverages, but had none of the regrets.

It. was. delightful.

Would you believe it if I said we’re game to go back again? Because we would… broadway productions and all.

Resolutions

Jan3

I’m copying Ashley and listing my goals for this year as well. Already, I’ve broken one of them today when we got lost a couple hours ago, but am now hyper-sensitive to it.

1. Quit cussing. Especially when lost. Although a nice F-bomb really does make you feel better every once in while.

2. Do one round of Power 90. I have a good 1.75 hours before having to pick up R from work. Why can’t I squeeze this in?

3. By eliminating those almost 2 hours of free time, it will help me spend LESS TIME ON THE INTERNET. Because we watch TV on it, email through it, write my blog with it, ugh… too much time. Setting a reading goal every month will help as well. I can’t decide to set the goal by number of pages or number of books.

4. No Coke. And by coke, I mean all of those sweet carbonated beverages. Growing up, we never drank it, why am I addicted to it now? R gave it up for all of last year and spent the past two days getting refill after refill in celebration. My mouth was watering. It sucked.

Side Note: Is ‘sucked’ considered a cuss word? If not, I may add it anyway. Along with ‘crap’.

5. Use a wider vocabulary: That’s crap -> That’s rubbish. This sucks -> This vexes me.

6. Spending an hour each morning praying and reading the One Year Bible. All I have to do is get up an hour earlier.

Prunes, Prunes the Wonderful Fruit

Jan1

… the more you eat, the more you poop.

I’ll have you know, I debated about finishing the verse

and ended up taking the mature route.

My mother-in-law knows me well.

Look at my welcome home gift on the bed when I arrived at their house.

Hope you have a very cleansing New Year!

Christmas – Snippits of His Side aka Home of the Goatees

Dec31

{Watching my brother-in-law figure out the best way to get only cheese popcorn out of the tin. And by doing so, making us not want to eat the other two kinds that were barricaded by the inside of his shirt.}

{Being handed the stocking by my father-in-law who having neither grown up with girls nor had girls can only smile patiently through my barrage of photos and finger-in-the-air tirades.}

What? You’ve never seen my finger in the air pose? It comes around quite often, I’ll scrounge up a photo for you.

{Enjoying when people can laugh at themselves. This towel made me guffaw.}

{Watching R open up gifts from his brother, which included random items left over at his house}

{Then being told by J that there are over forty little elves hiding around the room. In the photo above, I’ve already found three. Our job? Find as many as we can.}

{After we found our loot. She then read various backstories on some of the elves. If we had those particular ones, we got more points.}

{But my favorite elf was the one who was happy because he ate a bunch of chocolate. I could really relate. See his chocolatey smile? J’s so creative.}

{Some even came with money!}

{And lastly, an extremely yummy corn chowder dinner where I realize how I need Katie to do my hair every day. See what happens when I’m left to it on my own? Move to Arkansas, Katie. I need you.}

Christmas – Snippits of My Side

Dec30

{Watching my mom’s expression as she tries to organize a group photo. It’s hard work herding us in from the eggnog.}

{Waiting for someone to step up and be Santa. We were all too comfy with our coffees. I think my 3 year old niece ended up having to be him…which explains what happened later.}

{Congratulating my mom on giving us clothing that will not be returned. Her secret, she said, was not caring what we thought.}

{Seething with jealousy over my nieces’ new tu-tus.}

{When finding out that they are very, and I mean very, expandable, snatching it from E and forcing her to wear another skirt during our recital. Aren’t I nice? Don’t try to get in between me and a tutu.}

{More on the recital later}

{After getting fed up with being Santa, K grabbed her new luggage and tried to flee the scene. We sat there not knowing how to proceed with the presents}

{Nephew W becoming less and less impressed with his uncles’ ability to put together literally three pieces of plastic. It was unbearable to watch.}

{Getting a fresh ‘do, cut lovingly by my cousin Katie. If you want a hairdresser that hands you a glass of wine along with the expectation that you don’t have to talk, go to her. And isn’t that what we all want out of a hairdresser? She could’ve given me a bee-hive and I would’ve been happy that no silly chat-chat was needed. She works at Rio Salon in Parkville and is classy classy classy. Tell her that Carrie sent ya. It won’t get you any discounts, but you can still tell her — you know, right before you down that glass of wine and close your eyes.}

{On a side note, if you click on the photo, you can start to see my gray coming through. When my sister saw the cut, she said, “You look ten years younger. So you finally look 29.”}

The Life of a White Elephant Gift

Dec28

I’m ba-ack. Never did I think I’d miss my cozy dorm room, but it feels nice to be back into its space-confining arms. After more than a week in Kansas, we arrived home last night and are implementing many things for our 2010 selves. Until then, I’ll continue to eat my weight in chocolate.

An item that did not come home with us this year was R’s white elephant gift. Actually, neither did mine; of the $20 worth of lottery tickets, only one was a winner (a free ticket). And even that gained us nothing.

But what those tickets didn’t give us in money, the 3D pear fruit plate gave us in fun.

Here it is, in all it’s glory. Primed to be hung on any proud ceramic fruit displayer’s wall. We were in disbelief when no one tried to steal this from us.

So R tried to give it away as part of his secret santa gift.

R drew our brother-in-law’s name for our annual secret santa amongst the siblings. This year we decided to do a $5 limit. Does anything cost 5 bucks anymore? It was hard, but we at least we were all on a level playing field.

At least I thought we were. I opened up my gift from my brother & his wife and oh, just a “five dollar” COACH purse. Uh.. hope you guys enjoy the homemade laundry detergent. Pretty fair trade, I’d say.

R was clever with his money, though. He knew that Joe (he has allowed me to use his full name) loved his Boulevards. But when R noticed the price was $6.98, he calculated how much he’d have to drink before giving him the present. A few chugs and a couple of leftover backwashes later, we were in business.

As an extra touch of thoughtfulness, R added his lovely pear plate (free of charge) to his secret santa gift.

Joe was thrilled.

A few days later, we found the pear plate hiding in a cupboard.

“Oh, Hail No”, my mom said. “This is not staying in our house.”

So she suggested I wrap up the plate and give it to R during his family’s christmas morning.

And being the dutiful daughter, I did.

R was not as thrilled as Joe. That is, until his father and brother went out to shoot blue rock in their backyard. And this is where the plate’s lovely life took a sad, sad turn.

Please cover your eyes as there are shocking images ahead.

Not a direct hit, but fatal nonetheless. We will miss you, oh gawdy ceramic pear plate. May you go into white elephant gift heaven.

Merry Christmas..

Dec16

to ourselves. R and I spent Sunday christmas shopping. We ended up buying more things for ourselves than for anyone else it seemed like. Mama’s got a brand new pair of shoes and a book for starters. I talked myself out of a second book, but don’t breathe a sigh of relief. You just don’t see my hand hovering over the “Buy” button on the keyboard. It’ll come soon.

But this one! Oh, this one.

Fashion: A History from the 18th to the 20th Century.

Yum! I love the poses of the mannequins along with actual paintings of the clothing in question.

Small Town Lights

Dec7

I’m enchanted with small towns. So, seeing our town’s adorable christmas decorations made my insides turn to jelly. You know, like when you went on that first date with a guy and saw that he’s reaching across to caress your cheek, only to realize that he’s actually just scraping spinach off the tip of your nose because instead of using utensils, you apparently just put your head straight into the pasta dish and slurped.

oh.

Well, you know the feeling I’m talking about.

look at these lights. just look at them! they are so simple and small-townish.

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