14 aug 2018

Ryan had a business trip so we went to KC for the week.

They listen to audio books in the car and one of our favorites is Winnie the Pooh (Judi Dench, Stephen Fry, & Geoffrey Palmer!!). I don’t remember ever getting into it as a kid, but these stories with the fun voices has me hooked now. And it’s a million times better than hearing If You’re Happy and You Know It over and over.

Anyway, the new movie about Winnie, Christopher Robin, is very sweet. I cried within the first 15 minutes and Ruthie said she cried during it too.

We’d been trying for years to catch this darn train. Finally did and Gertie was not a fan. The rest of us were though and we went around 8 times!

While Gertie and I took a break, one of the adorable volunteer workers came over and talked about how she’d raised a disabled son. She then cussed about the weather and thrust a bottle of water in my hand. It was a meeting between me and my future self.

The rest of the time was spent shoe shopping, playing with cousins, and binge watching shows, none of which I took pics. I need to be more aggressive with the camera again.

The day after Ryan flew back to KC, we drove from there to Oklahoma City and visited our friends that’d moved from NWA. Ruthie dove off the diving board and Gertie, I’m not exaggerating, kicked her feet and arms until she swam by herself. It was maybe for 6-12 inches, but still. She loves the water so much.

We pretty much didn’t stop talking for 48 hours. 30 of those were me going on and on about her garden area and backyard (there’s not many who will gladly talk compost and chicken poop with me), 16 about the meals and ginger drinkie poos, and the remaining 2 hours me thinking I’m funny because of those ginger drinks.

At one point Annie had to go pee so Mandy told her to just pop a squat in the yard (another reason we’re friends!) right by the fence. Annie, in her own special way, decided to go in the middle of the front yard right as a car drove by.

I hardly saw these three girls the whole time. It was nonstop mermaids and dolls and dress up clothes.

On our way home.

We drove through Siloam Springs and decided to show Ruthie where she was born. We made a big ole deal about the home there, in the countryside, on a dirt road, surrounded by cows. We laughed so hard thinking of what she was picturing. So we slowed down and showed her her birthplace.

And for proof that she is indeed my daughter, she didn’t care at all about what it looked like. She gasped and squealed and said she loved it.

I love enthusiastic people, Ruthie. Thank you.

A fun full week. We tired though.

15 July 2018

Jul15

Pretty much the same pic.

14 july 2018

Jul14

All I know is, when we first met Des’s parents, I had flashbacks of meeting one of my spanish teacher’s moms while studying in Spain. They double kiss as a greeting and when she said, “This is my mom” I immediately went over and tried to kiss her hello, never minding that she was facing away from me sitting on a couch. And even though I sensed none of the other girls leaving their place against the living room wall, I was determined to make that kiss happen. So I leaned over the sofa and forced my cheek against hers. It’s seared in my memory.

So Des’s mom greeted me with a rose at the airport and leaned in for that same greeting. She went one way and I happened to go the same way. We went side to side several times, me mirroring her face trying to get that double kiss in when I finally just stood there and let her do it. Hi. I’m Carrie. Get used to this. Her dad would later catch me at almost every stop wandering alone trying to figure out where I was (or more likely, where Ryan was). “Carrie!” in his sweet accent “Carrie!” I would spot him, then twirl in a circle as if I was completely lost looking around. Making fun of yourself is cross-cultural.

We got off the plane and went to their home for lunch. Amy and I took turns trying to say phrases from Google Translate (it gives you the phonetic pronunciation) and was introduced to what would soon become a frequent scenario: A long pause, followed by them asking Des what we were trying to say.

By the end of the week, we just showed them the translation on the screen.

Here’s our fearless leaders driving us.

Plum trees everywhere. We’d driven up to the Rila mountains to stay.

rila 2

I was walking with her mom and asked Isn’t today just beautiful in Bulgarian. Pause. Ask Des.

I’d said something about it being annoying.

It was still early in the week, so I hadn’t learned my lesson yet to just show the phone translation.

You can’t tell below, except for maybe Vesco’s (Des’s brother) expression, how tired everyone was of saying the Bulgarian word for “Cheers!”. I took about thirty photos already, trying to get everyone in my selfie until finally someone asked the waiter to do it. We still said it on the 31st time. I’d joke that we only cheersed 31 times because it was still day 1, but I have a feeling her family would’ve still been good sports about it on the very last day too.

Ryan and I had this idea that we’d get up before everyone to have some alone time, walking around whatever town we were in. That lasted one day, the first day, because we were just exhausted. It’s one of those times where you don’t realize how long you’ve been running on fumes until you get a proper break. We slept every chance we could.

But that first morning in the mountains, we woke up and walked aways to find a trail.

A rickety bridge that entered the woods.

On the other side we walked up and up until we found large scat on the trail. I was able to take a photo to verify later but in my head already it was a bear poop and I went running back down, tumbling until I found that bridge again. We came out of the woods and just then a van passed us. It happened to be Des’s brother and his girlfriend (both of whom I am absolutely smitten with) and they stopped the car and took us to find coffee. I felt the need to act out bear poop with hand motions and fart noises. It wasn’t even 7am yet. Get used to it, Bulgaria!

We visited the Rila Monastery.

The oldest structure, that brick tower in the background, was open for us to climb but I couldn’t find Ryan (my dad had whisked him off) and I spent 20 minutes running around occasionally hearing “Carrie!”, would see Des’s dad, twirl around so he’d laugh, then continue my search until I gave up and climbed without him.

Also, I didn’t pack well. I had no idea I’d wear that sweater every darn day.

But it was still fresh-smelling at the monastery and there were artisan wells everywhere.

Later we climbed up a trail to visit where a hermit stayed until he died. I’m sure there’s more to the story, but I was too out of breath to hear it. This hike felt like we were going straight up. It was so pretty though.

We had to climb through his little cave and then pull ourselves up out of the rocks. It was like I was being birthed again.

Artisan well.

Lunch at a ski resort town.

I saw the ski lift and encouraged anyone who showed an inkling of interest to do it with me, then backed out at the last-minute leaving the boys to do it themselves. Halfway up it started raining and when they met up with us, cozy in a pizzeria, they were completely soaked.

ski 1

In my defense, I knew that the cross-bar would never be pulled down and this is photographic evidence. I’m a scaredy cat. And cats don’t like to get wet anyway.

6 july 2018

Jul6

I can only handle a phew* photos at a time. (*I am not joking. I meant to write ‘few’. Freudian slip, and if it were 10 years ago, Ryan and I would have debated into the early morning whether or not freudian slips could only have a sexual implication. I am here to proudly say he was defeated in that theory.)

Anyway, on the way out Amy was crazy germ lady so I went along with it for the photos and attention from strangers, but then I started having crazy germ lady thoughts and realized that she actually infected me. The irony.

While waiting to board, the sunlight glared off of someone’s gold earphones and realized it was Mac Lethal, our beloved hometown rapper. Look him up on youtube. He fast.

I’m sure I made him feel good though:

“Hey!!!! Are you the KC rapper?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s your name again?”

I’d have asked him to perform on the flight but Ryan and I were busy.

We got to Vienna and were one flight away from meeting our Bulgarian family-in-law. So we facetimed and spent 5 minutes just waving.

The world cup was playing during our stop and Ryan jostled for a place to watch it at a central open-air bar/food court thing. There were lots of people from every language watching because, you know, futbol. And when a team scored, the whole place roared. I love being in a crowd for only a few things: sporting events, movie theatres, and dance floors. The last of which I’d have to overcome later in the week.

7 feb 2018

Feb7

The overnight train trip: a cautionary tale. Be forewarned, I get hyped up about the littlest things. Did Ryan think it was as cool as I did? Eh, maybe not as much, but he still enjoyed the adventure. Do your standards have to be set low? Yes. This is not the Hilton. But the characters on board, along with the cozy privacy of the bedroom is worth not being fussy.

We finally arrived at the train station, a different station than planned in fact. There were mudslides up the coast of Washington and so they had to bus us to the next depot just north of us. We were a little bummed because that was the only hour of daylight we’d have looking out onto the countryside.

But, here we were, happy to be boarding anyway.

As you might expect, everything is tight. (I feel like I’m turning into the Amtrak ambassador here. I even started daydreaming about a train-only vacation blog, but then time and money snapped me back to reality.)

Do you see the window? Do you see the silver door jam? That’s our room. Pack light is all I’m saying. Two chairs facing each other (with a table in between) turn into a bed with an upper one ready to come down when needed. The carpeted end table next to me is actually the stair for the bunkbed.

You could not have pinched me harder. I said at least 1000 times, “Isn’t this fun?” We had an attendant named Gul who over-enunciated the “s” sound at the end of words: “Yesssss, your dinner serviccccccce issss going on now.” So we headed to the dining car for dinner. (FYI: If you reserve a sleeper car, your meals are free. Your welcome, Ambassador Carolyn.)

It’s like a bed and breakfast where they sit you with strangers which… I like. People intrigue me. And there were several that made me feel like we were truly in a movie. The two young Australian friends checking off a bucket list before they head back. (They also watched a rocket take off in Florida. It was cancelled the first day because a plane flew right into it’s path before launching. So they had to defuel and refuel the rocket the next day, costing hundreds of thousands of dollars. I laughed so hard. Can you imagine being that pilot? That would so be me, just minding my own business, ruining official government procedures.) Anyway, it was an enjoyable dinner, especially since Ryan could get his Australian itch scratched, talking about his college adventures there.

There was one guy we called The Major. He practically shouted everything he said and was also eager to talk with everyone, a potent combination. Every sentence was a joke where he himself laughed the loudest. Another was a lady who used to be homeless, now with a roommate and a house, traveling to Seattle to visit her homeless friends. She showed us many pictures of said house and I couldn’t have beamed brighter for her.

I’ve found that learning people’s stories, and letting them talk, has become one of my favorite things. They are so interesting, aren’t they? And I can truly say that I’ve never appreciated them more than I do right now in my life.

Maybe I’m just nosy. But I think it’s more than that.

Bedtime was the ultimate part of the ride for me. We had our own little night lights. The train rocked side to side, gently though, and it would speed up and slow down at the stops. It was lovely. Every person I asked how they slept, said “Great!”, usually surprised at their own answer. I was just as surprised in the morning too.

Meanwhile, as we were taking in the silence, the girls were ratcheting it up at Jama & Da-dads. Gertie’s starting to act ornery which is a good and bad thing. It’s a relief for something to feel normal, but it’s annoying too. This series of pictures texted to us pretty much summed up the progression.

Thank you for holding down the fort, in-laws!! I’ll mail you some Excedrin.

When we woke up, it was early morning. I had to apply my make-up in the window reflection. Expectations low, people. I probably still asked Ryan if he was loving this like me, even while messily applying my eye-liner.

We had rented a car in Whitefish, MT so we could drive to Glacier National Park. In the winter the park rangers host snowshoeing hikes for free. I’d never been hiking in snow before, so off we went.

We stopped several times to listen to our ranger give lessons…..very….slowly. It was almost painful, how long the pauses were between words. For all my previous appreciation of people, I was about to break down in impatience. Like, I’d started hoping the mountain lion she said to look out for would actually relieve me of my misery. I’d see it in the woods and would just walk over to it and lay down by its mouth.

After a suspenseful ten minute lead-in, we finally found out that across the river was a 50 year old beaver den.

img_7897-1

Mamasita hadn’t eaten since 6:30 that morning and it was nearing 1pm, after a 2 hour hike. We’d heard that the restaurant at the top of Whitefish Resort’s summit was really good. So we bought lift tickets and headed that way.

Okay. Can we pause here to remember that I’ve become (ironically, unafraid to admit) AFRAID?! I’m not a ski bunny. I tremble at the thought of going down a hill with zero brakes. And let’s also not forget, I don’t have the ski lift finesse needed to fake any sense of belonging. The guy who sold me the tickets said that this one goes very fast. I said, Fine, no problem. Inside I was quaking.

We stood in line and it was very peaceful. Watching little groups getting on the lift, shuffling their way out and hopping on. And then the attendant, a lady sturdier than nfl linebackers, turned to see us next. She’d not uttered a word since we got there, but once our feet hit the front of the line, she yelled “COME UP. PUT YOUR FEET HERE. NOT THERE. RIGHT HERE. MOVE FORWARD. IT’S COMING. IT’S COMING. SIT DOWN. SIT DOWN. PULL YOUR LEGS UP. PULL THE BAR DOWN NOOOOWWWWWWwwwwwww!” And I think she was still yelling at us halfway up the mountain. If I hadn’t been scared out of my mind, I would’ve laughed at how ridiculous that scene must’ve looked to the regulars.

I cried turning around in the seat to get this picture of the town below.

We got to the top, ordered our food. Hamburgers, poutine, and pho: a natural combo. I pushed a table to the side of a balcony and we, again, people watched. In silence. We sat there for a long time too, because I dreaded going back down the mountain.

When we got off the lift, there was the linebacker ready for us, with the same commands. It was all a blur.

We had a few hours to kill before getting back on the train, and since we’d already done the three things we really wanted to do (Pike Place Market, Snowshoeing at Glacier, & the Summit Restaurant), we decided to go to the movies. And both promptly fell asleep.

After another night on board, we woke up to watch the last bit of Washington go by before arriving in Seattle. We crossed over the fastest moving creeks I’ve ever seen. There were whitecaps all over it, just forcing its way down the mountain. It was gorgeous. We saw trees that we don’t get to experience in the south. And squinted our eyes at the constant glare of snow on the ground.

Have you heard the saying “You can travel the world, only to come back and see your home for the first time.” Or something like that. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that while we saw so many fun things and made wonderful memories, there’s nothing quite like home. It made us love it more.

6 feb 2018

Feb6

Let’s all have a moment of silence for getting back into the swing of things after a whirlwind weekend. For us, that’s looking like lots of cartoons and mac n cheese. No m&c for me though, since for some stupid reason I started weight watchers a week before leaving on a trip. So dumb. In line for our flight check-in, I stared lovingly at all the foods displayed.

There was one little glob of glue next to the m&ms where I’m sure another weight watcher’s member must’ve succumbed to a candy bar. I bowed my head and gave them a moment. Later, on the plane, one snippet from the book I read had a guy getting a funnel shoved down his throat and liquor poured into his stomach, killing him. Instead of being shocked, all I could focus on was the funnel being filled with food and how glorious that sounded.

I made it through the gauntlet of stale snacks unscathed and onto the plane.

Some changes I noticed after having 3 kids:

I’m a more patient, slow-moving, tired traveller.
If you don’t feel like talking, I’m beyond fine with that. We can just people watch.
I’ve become a scaredy cat and have to be reassured every few minutes that my life insurance is current.

Every little bump in the air had me gripping Ryan’s knee.

Before that though, we heard whisperings of a man sitting some seats ahead. (“He’s a big news broadcaster. He’s covering the Olympics. etc. etc.”) So we craned our necks and stared at him while he talked and laughed with the people around him. Ryan’s friend is also a reporter and because they are both from Denver, Ryan texted him about this guy and wrote that he was gonna get a pic with him.

Wait. What did I read over his shoulder? That Ryan was gonna willingly act the fool? For once it won’t be me? That about made the entire trip because…. read #1 & #2 again.

Once we landed, the hunt was on. We stalked him until it was obvious he was going the other way and Ryan made his move.

I know, no one knows who this guy is. But he was very happy to have his photo taken.

Anyway, here was the itinerary for our 3 day adventure. I’m including it because that’s stuff I like to read:

10am Friday – Arrive in Seattle – tool around until getting on the train.
4:30pm Friday – Train departs for Whitefish, MT
7am Saturday – Train arrives in Whitefish
Spend day in Whitefish & Glacier National Park
9:30pm Saturday – Train departs back for Seattle
10:30am Sunday – Train arrives in Seattle.
6pm Sunday – Arrive home

Another change I’ve noticed was that I didn’t really have a preference of what to see or, more importantly, what I didn’t see. There were 3 things we planned and both agreed to make an effort to do, but everything else was kinda figured out last minute depending on if we felt like it.

For someone who would normally have lists of times/events/venues, this was unusual. It made the trip a lot more relaxed for both of us.

First, The Public Market.

I’d visited before with a friend, but Ryan had never been and this was a must for him. No flying fish today. However, the croony street corner music was perfect for this cloudy, spring-like day. We walked all around and up and down, then found a restaurant overlooking the sound and ate fish tacos and fish & chips.

After that, we didn’t really know what to do. We researched a few things, but Ryan remembered that his coworker told him about the Starbucks Roasterie and how you can get a flight of coffees to sample. Next to a fire and big windows where we could people watch, this was just what these tired parents needed. (see #1 & 2).

Afterwards, along the way to a destination that got nixed mid-walk, we saw this building and I flat-out refused it’s existance. If I were offered a job there, I’d decline.

All I’d be able to think about during my 9-5 is how small of a foundation we were sitting on. (Read #3)

That was seriously the extent to Seattle, besides more food and coffee and people watching. I’d mentioned in the previous post that this was one of our best trips, and it was. But we really didn’t do much. We didn’t climb the space needle, or go to any museums. We didn’t put gum on the famous wall or drive to the sound. And we were perfectly content with that. Between the plane and train and only a few activities, it really was a refueling of sorts – no massages needed.

Up next the train! My favorite.

3 feb 2018

Feb3

Just wanted to pop in here to say that this has been one of our best trips yet.

But the train. I’m now officially obsessed with them and we’re waiting impatiently to get on our next one to head back to Seattle.

1 feb 2018

Feb1

This is the face of someone excited. Like, crazy excited. I haven’t been on a plane WITHOUT KIDS in seven years. Ryan and I are leaving tomorrow on a quick trip to the Northwest, jumping on an overnight train, and spending the day at Glacier National Park. You guys. No one can bring me down today.

One of my goals this year is to write longer stories and I’m hoping this trip will inspire me. Weeeeeeeee!

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.

See Ya!

Mar25

Hi.

Can I share a secret? I haven’t spent a night away from Ruth. Until this past weekend, that is. It’s hard to wrap my mind around that fact. What exactly have I been doing for 18 months? I mean, I know there’s been a break between Project Runway seasons, that would’ve been the perfect time. As soon as Heidi said, I’m sorry… you’re out, I should’ve taken her seriously and walked straight to the nearest hotel.

But we all have our own timelines and this is how mine finally shook down.

We didn’t go anywhere exotic. It was probably the most hum-drum “vacation” I’ve ever taken. No trekking around with strangers we’d just met to search for The Soul of The World.

No walking around naked in a Korean Spa.

No backpacking what seemed like 3 billion miles amongst bison.

No. This was decidedly more low-key.

Ruth knew something was up when I actually put on slacks and make-up. She was more hands-on, literally. Wherever I was standing or sitting, she always had one hand on my leg.

But when my in-laws arrived and she came down the stairs to see them, all the uneasiness about my eyeliner & mascara disappeared. We ate dinner together and then packed up the car. As we left, she was held by her jama in the doorway as we gave her kisses and waved goodbye to us with not even a whimper.

Uh, alright…. SEE YA!!!!!!!

And off we went… to a town 30 minutes away.

Yeah, 30 minutes. Can someone say E-X-O-T-I-C?

Here’s the deal. It had to do with selfishness and being a cheap skate. I wanted to spend plane ticket money or gas money on us. In a spa. With no hiking or Korean ladies staring at my birthing hips or bison poop.

But you know what we did first? We went shopping at Target’s $1 bins like it was a duty free shop on a cruise. We stocked up on 75% St Patty’s day junk. YES.

And when we checked into the hotel, I rolled around in all of that target loot on the bed. It was literally a scene from Indecent Proposal. Fricken sexy.

See for yourself:

Settle down, boys.

We checked into the room and decided to have a second dinner, just because we could. Wrong move. I’ll leave it at that. But the next morning we had a date with the adjoining spa. Both of us signed up for spa journey and in between sessions, we’d meet up in its little communal waterfall room to wait for the next. And yes, we were wearing robes.

But not for long, unfortunately for my stupidity.

Fricken SIGH. Why can’t I just walk around not making an absolute fool of myself for fricken once?

My first session was a full body scrub and when I walked in she showed me the disposable underwear to put on:

If Ruthie cries seeing me in make-up, can you just imagine how long it’s been since I’ve worn a thong? I immediately think the bigger piece of fabric is obviously for the bigger asset, right? A 14 year old could have reminded me the right way. But no, I throw that sexy piece of clothing on backwards so that when the body scrubber pulls away the sheet, she stood there quietly for a moment before pretending there was something on the ceiling really worth studying just so she didn’t have to look back down.

Talk about an indecent proposal. I think I should’ve paid her a million dollars.

When I met her back outside after jumping in the shower, she had a glass of cucumber water and said I was speedy. That was a cue to slow it down. I’ve got no nap times to race against, so just take it easy Carolyn.

Ryan certainly was.

He obviously put the thong on correctly.

My spa journey unfortunately did not improve much. I laid down for my facial and she started massaging my shoulders. Yes! This is gonna be great, I thought…. Until she pulled out what might have been the actual sun and shined it on my face. When I squinted my eyes open, the most horrific thing happened. She was lowering a huge magnifying glass down to my skin to “inspect it”.

What the.

Get the frick away from me, woman.

But she didn’t. Instead, she pointed out every blackhead on my face and poke at them as if she were tatooing the Big Dipper onto my forehead. This was followed by an examination of every wrinkle on my prematurely aging face and what I could do to mitigate it.

And the clincher? The cheerleader clap at the end when she excitedly exclaimed, “Yay for facials!!!”

Yeah… let me just grab that thong and drown myself in the hotel pool.

I did feel connected to my mom in that moment, though. I had bought her a facial for her birthday one year and the lady pointed out an oil pocket on her nose. She said, I can take care of that! and brought out a hammer and bopped her nose with it. 4 years later, mom still has the red mark from that bop. And likes to point out my birthday gift to her every once in a while.

But it also didn’t help that my boost in self-unconfidence was followed by an early round loss by my alma mater. Being depressed while pregnant is like 1000 times worse. Ryan had to peel me out of the chair to go back to the hotel. However later that night, after room service (of course) the Florida GC team’s win against Georgetown completely shifted me the other way and then some. Hello mood swings. I thought I didn’t pack you, but there you are.

We went swimming, took long showers, and ate leisurely breakfasts. It was really nice. And at some point Ryan and I started to not talk about children. We teased more, we cuddled more, and laughed more.

And ate more.

On our way home, we stopped in Jimmy John’s and noticed one of their signs that said Yesterday’s Homemade Bread 50 cents. I wondered aloud if that was a fake or real sign. Sure enough, it was real.

And five orphan loaves came home with me.

That would’ve been the topper to the weekend if this hadn’t happened yesterday:

I love cold Sunday afternoon naps, especially taken with a friend I hadn’t seen all weekend.

No offense second child, but I can’t wait for my next weekend away. And it probably will be in 18 months. That’s how long it’ll take to get over that facial.

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.

Thanksgiving 2012

Dec2

We switch holidays on and off with the relatives. This year Thanksgiving is with the in-laws, Christmas with my family. Next year it switches. The weather was sunny and, at times, warm. I managed to pack some dress (maternity) pants into my bag, but pretty much slothed it up in pjs the entire time while eating my weight and the baby’s weight combined. Pretty sure it already weighs 10 lbs, so I ate accordingly.

Ruth and I snuck into the kitchen and watched the man of the house cut our turkey. No manual labor here, only a chainsaw will do.

Ruth stayed close.And we finally sat down to eat. Finally because the sweet potato casserole I made caused a hold up. We probably should’ve just scratched it all together because it was mostly only glanced at and Ryan was held at knife point to eat some. My mom said it had a lukewarm reception in KC as well.

I, of course, tried everything freely. Three times over. After we paid our yearly dues to the gluttony gods, everyone went into the living room. Most of us walked, someone hobbled though. Nathan was having back pain to the point that anyone who walked by in a trench coat was hounded for drugs.

Eventually he was medicated enough to lay still in the back bedroom. Shirts not required. I kept mine on. Ruth showed everyone her obsession with certain body parts.

I did too.

Along with my obsession with havarti cheese. Holy moly, Carolyn. Put the cheese slicer down.
The next day, Ryan and I snuck away to go to the mall. I was in there three seconds before I wanted to claw my way out. Ugh, if there’s anything more boring now that I’m not a teenager looking for boys to sit next to in the lunch court. I’ve conveniently forgotten the looks at my Spice Girl shoes by said boys, thus resulting in me sitting with only the girls I came with. Those shoes were massive. Like, drag queen tall. It was awesome.

I guess it also never helps to be on a budget too. Now, if I’d won that 500 mil powerball…. nah, still boring.

On the way home, I spotted the smallest Estate Sale sign ever created. That was a sign for the truly addicted. The prices at the sale were not. Too high for my taste, so we went home and got Ruth ready to see her great-grandparents.

She showed off her latest talent: blowing her nose. Great Grandma Leitta and Great Grandpa Jesse acted impressed. While she continued I did what I normally do… grilling Leitta on her past. She won her school’s talent show when she was 9 (1940) which gave her the opportunity to sing on the local radio station KFH. She had background singers too… the Arc Vally Boys. They asked her if she ever sang to a professional musician or what note she starts on. She said had no idea and said only her sister had played the song for her. So they had her sister come in and start the Arc Valley Boys off. Of course I didn’t write down the song she sang and now I don’t remember.

This reminded me of the karaoke story my mom likes to reminisce about… She and dad were out with friends and mom signed up to sing ‘I heard it through the grapevine.’ They called her name while she was in the bathroom. By the time she came out, a group of guys had already gone up to sing it. So mom ran up there, scooted her way in front of them, and they sang back up to the star. I wish I’d been there to see it.

Her other great-grandma, Vivienne, came over for a ham dinner. Round two of stuffing myself like foie gras. Ruth was hesitant at first, but eventually found a common playing field: rocking chairs.

And using a walker…

Vivenne is hard of hearing to say it lightly. So at any given moment, someone was yelling conversations in the living room. They normally got an answer too. When she asked me, however, something about Ruth, and I explained it to her, she stared at me and said simply, “I can’t hear you” and turned towards someone else for another conversation.

Heh. You’re lucky that happened after dinner, Vivienne, otherwise I would’ve made you eat my sweet potato casserole.

The rest of the time? Ryan and I went on a mini hike on their 5 acres, which after actually walking it, really does seem like a lot… movies were watched, games were not played (you’re welcome, Randy), and Ruthie was watched. Or, hopefully she was… I didn’t pay attention, I was on vacation!

And poor Shady was bothered. This dog is the most docile animal I’ve ever known. She runs away from Ruthie like it’s Godzilla walking towards her. That is, until Ruth is eating. Then she patiently waits to be given a piece. I told Ruth she’s getting a taste of her own medicine. This girl can hear the slightest movement of hand going to mouth and beeline to your knee.
Overall, it was a good holiday. Sweet potato casserole and all.

State Fair

Sep5

Whew Lawdy (I stole that from a friend. You know who you are), a weekend at the state fair with old college friends was an eye-opener. An “I just might still got it” eye-opener. A “pulling all-nighters without a newborn is pretty freaking fun” eye-opener. An “I can stay up talking until 4am, and feel great the next day walking around the state fair with only one cuppa joe” eye-opener.

Yep. I still (kinda) got it, because a nap was needed after our adventures. However, naps also got me through college, so really I was just reliving those days.

I haven’t mentioned that as soon as I got home in Arkansas, I zonked completely until the next day. That’s called an eye-closener, folks.

So yes, these girls and I go back to my junior year in college, in which we lived in a 6.5 bedroom home. (6.5 because L basically lived in a closet for a lower rent.) It was our sorority without the fees. And as life went on, some of us drew apart, others got closer together, until we’ve now settled into a nice rhythm of annual, or, if we’re lucky, semi-annual get togethers. These three have all taken a trip (some more than once) down to visit me in Arkansas, taking time out of their busy lives to do so.

It’s hard, keeping in touch, especially in person. So I’m making the effort to return the favor.

This meeting had a goal in mind: The Missouri State Fair.

And those sunglasses were needed my friends. While the boys and babies slept soundly in their beds Friday night, we girls chatted and sampled various wines, including my dandelion bottle. If the state fair needed someone to light fire from their mouth, all they need is this stuff.

This photo sums it up. Someone get that girl a coffee, stat.

After moving the girltalk outdoors, you could hear windows slamming shut and doors closing. Our work here was done and we went to sleep. In typical bossy-like-her-mama fashion, Ruth decided to wake up at 7am on the nose. Thanks.

Everyone slowly got around. Coffee was brewed, hair combed, and off we went.
Big pillars welcomed us to the fair. The weather was perfect. Slightly cloudy and not at all humid or overly hot. All the stars were aligned.
Ruth couldn’t contain her excitement as her dad bought tickets. I mean, we were about to see something that we’ve read about only in books. It was pretty much a celebrity sighting.
What was it, you ask?

None other than sheep. I can name three books, along with a puzzle had this animal glorified. Ruth could hardly contain herself. Okay, maybe it was just me.

And maybe it was because I knew that eventually I’d see my lover that I meet at every fair: the Tilt-A-Whirl. Except this time I was nervous. Partly butterflies, and partly because I had just thrown my back out a few days earlier. Two chiro appointments later, our trip to L’s house was in jeopardy. But I laid low, and felt good enough to go. But good enough for the Tilt-A-Whirl?

I was going to take my chances.

So, as we left the sheep, and headed to the rides, the sun broke open from the clouds to shine down on one in particular. We stood in line, patiently waiting our turn.

And as we started forward to get onto the platform, the carnie informed us that it had suddenly broke down. Actually, he didn’t tell us, he just simply left us there wondering what was going on. After staying up all night, it took one of our kids to figure it out.

Deflated, we moved on.

Ruth laughed in our faces.

So we stuck her on R’s shoulders so I couldn’t look her in the eye. But I still felt her hovering over me, so we plopped her into block heaven.

She had never seen so many shapes. From the look on her face, it was quite possibly the best moment of her life.

After she came down from her high, we drove back and (after a nap) hung out painting rocks. What a fun way to eat up some time! I’m definitely stealing this for when Ruth can hold a paint brush.
Storm clouds were coming in, but held out long enough for fingers to get messy.
And inner artists to emerge.

And for Ruth to be anointed by M. He was so sweet with her the entire weekend, saying that he “can’t take his eyes off of her because she’s so cute.” Oh M. Don’t make me pack you up in my suitcase.

And after another late night of singing, dancing, and game-playing, we crashed around 2am.

Good food was eaten, We slept in a comfy bed, And Ryan drove home to let me nap. Yes, it was a great time indeed.

The Tale of Two Cities

May30

Hello! Have you forgotten about our trip that we took A MONTH AGO? Good grief, this is unacceptable.

Well just to refresh your memory, here was our vacation layout:

Fly to Jacksonville
Hang with the cousins
Get the runs within 20 minutes of saying hi
Play with the kids
Dirty up their house
Say Goodbye
Drive to Folly Beach, SC
Make a Pit Stop in Savannah, GA
Stay at the beach for a week
Drive back to Jacksonville
Arrive home with a few more sunspots on your face

That’s it in a nutshell. Bye.

Fine, okay I’m back… because I’ve gotta tell you about these tours we went on in. One was in Savannah and the other in Charleston several days later. It was yin and yang, fire and ice, oil and water, feisty and calm. I liked them both.

We left Jacksonville around 10am and had an uneventful 2 hour drive to Savannah. We like uneventful. We like spacing out. We like quiet.

I’m going to share something which may cause me to lose friends: Most of the time, I don’t like to listen to the radio.

I like silence.

That is, unless Boyz II Men are on and I can alternate octaves depending on my mood. If I’ve got eyeliner on and my hair brushed, I’m the bass graveling my voice a la Kathleen Turner. If I’m upset, it’s soprano all the way, wanting to go so high that my goal is to shatter the windshield. Then I’d be happy because my car would almost be a convertible. Then I’d be sad that I didn’t have a scarf for my hair. Then I’d be happy because if I were to have a scarf in my hair, I would feel the need to reenact Thelma and Louise. Then I’d be sad because I’m just not fond of driving over cliffs. All of those in between feelings would be sung via the Alto and Tenor boyz.

And that right there, folks, is why it’s normally silent. Too much drama.

Well, either silent or with a book on tape.

So, as we sat in blissful silence, pointing out different fauna or landmarks, we eventually arrived in Savannah. I have always wanted to come here and I want to go back. Two hours is just not enough, especially when you’ve got someone showing you around that didn’t make it on Jersey Shore… because she was too Jersey Shore.

We walked into the visitor center and when confronted with a billion different tours to choose from, saw a coupon for one and snagged it. That should’ve been our first clue. The coupon.

Because as we waited for take-off, we glanced at the trolly next door. There was literally a line from the visitor center onto it. Either they didn’t know there was a coupon over here, or their Fodor’s Guidebook told them to steer clear.

And clear they did steer. We felt lonely.

However, we did appreciate taking up the entire back row without guilt. And that’s always nice. So as a few more unsuspecting people jumped on, we headed out.

It was muggy.

So I chose to wear a cardigan, because that’s what you’re supposed to wear if you want sweat to drip down your back and you can’t pat it dry because in doing so it will cause your white shirt to get wet and maybe if you were still playing volleyball daily and were proud of your over-the-shoulder-~~boulder~~ pebble-holder it would be fine, but hosting a post baby wet t-shirt contest due to a sweaty back while holding said baby is probably not the most flattering introduction you want to give to Savannah’s elite.

But I probably shouldn’t have been worried about making a good impression, there’s no way I could have, because our driver alternated between yelling at people with her microphone to get off their phone while driving, cackling when, as she pointed out a landmark, it looked like two people were doing the nasty. Then hollering back that we should have any kids on the tour close their eyes. There weren’t any children, except for Ruth. And she thought ‘the nasty’ meant they were eating avocadoes. She hates them so.

There was a brief pause of civility as we oogled over the lovely homes like this one…

…and then she was back at it: screaming at a girl on the sidewalk to turn around because she looked like Pippa and yelling ‘Nice horse!’ to a guy walking his great dane. Followed by You’re pretty cute, but I bet you don’t like women!

Ahhh, savannah southern hospitality at its best. I think my tactlessness would fit in just nicely down here. If not, I could always become a tour guide.

Ruth hung in there for the 90 minute tour. By the end we simultaneously juggled balls, patty-clapped, and stood on our heads to entertain her. It seemed to work, though, as several people commented on how well she did. No one seemed to notice the bedraggled lady holding her. Ah well.

We hopped in our car and continued on our way to Folly Beach. After a few stops before everyone settled down, it was back to silence with the occasional fervor of conversation.

Shortly we arrived and thus began our week with friends, a beach (briefly), and piñatas. On one of those days another couple and we drove into Charleston and did a tour there as well.

We waited in the shade for our ride.

Side note: J’s baby does not have a yellow perfectly oval with squiggly black lines face.

I introduced Ruth to a horse.

But she was mostly enthralled by this black one. I bet she knows how much I loved The Black Stallion growing up.

Our little carriage took off with only a few people. This was my fault, though, as I thought several other couples were coming with us and therefore reserved basically an entire carriage. In the end, it worked out for the best. More elbow room = happy mama.

The guide did not yell at pedestrians, nor drivers, nor the patrons, but instead gave a thorough (if monotone) background of everything we saw. It was calm, easy going, and breezy. Just what I needed after being sequestered in a bedroom with a teething baby girl (whose second tooth did in fact appear by the time we arrived home).

Ruth fell asleep on my chest, I semi-listened to the history of the town, and R took control of the camera. It was like he worked for National Geographic and just happened on a rare breed of animal.

Click-click-cliking away at everything. And I mean everything, including the little flag the guide would drop when the horse went tinkle. I mean, it was a Charleston tinkle flag, right? Therefore, it must be documented.

Like this one, I asked him later?

What is it?

I don’t know.

Okay.

But he did capture things like this: a low-lying old tree in front of a big white old home that I would love to uproot and wheel back to Arkansas with us. So, it all evened out.

Ruth agreed with me.

Afterwards, we walked around a bit, ate a bit, and then drove back to the beach.

Two different tour guides and I liked them both. That pretty much describes me though. I like being around people that make me laugh, but at a certain point I like to ask, can we have a serious conversation too?

You need both.

And this trip, so far, had it.

Wuz Up Cuz

May14

Lost of firsts going on in these parts:

First set of teeth
First official crawl
First official crawl to the nearest air vent
First official crawl to the nearest air vent followed by a loud NO by mama
First official smile at loud NO by mama
First official crawl back to air vent after loud NO by mama
First official sound of the ‘It’s so RELAXING having a baby. What’s the big deal’ balloon popping.
First official head side-tilt towards Grandma & Grandpa which they insist is because she feels sorry for them.
First official throw up
First official gag from mama at said throw up

But mostly, there was our first official family vacation.

A vacation for whom, exactly? I’m still not sure on that point, BUT it was a nice getaway to see friends and family in a new setting.

If you haven’t read our air travel adventures at The Mobile-Homemaker, please do. I think the main thing I took away from that experience was to really expect the absolute worst. Throw up, Diaper Explosions, Screaming. And then when it doesn’t happen, you’re trip has already exceeded your expectations.

Our initial trip itinerary was to rent a beach house with friends who’ve all had babies within a year of each other. This way we don’t have to make lame apologies or excuses to non-baby friends. We’re all in the same boat and get it.

But first we made a pit stop at my cousin’s house in the Jacksonville, FL area.

Here’s the trip layout:

Fly to Jacksonville
Stay with cousins a few days
Drive to Folly Beach
Make a pit stop in Savannah, GA on the way
Stay at beach house for a week
Drive back to Jacksonville
Fly home

Not gonna lie.

I was nervous about all the travelling. It’s about four hours from Jacksonville to Folly Beach and even though Ruth is a rock star on road trips, I didn’t know how all of the action leading up to her time in the car seat would pan out.

So, we arrived at my cousin’s house on a Friday afternoon. She texted me to say she was picking up her daughter from school and to let ourselves in. We were literally within minutes of arriving at this point. R was driving and I was telling him his next turn. We both are looking either way for a street sign and when we turned our heads back to the road, a cop was standing there waving us into a drive.

Ugh.

I’m not the best with cops. It usually ends with me asking if they hit their quota and them am surprised when I never get out of a ticket. This time I decided to keep my mouth shut.

He came over. R rolled down the window. I rolled my eyes and shut my mouth.

Hey there. I stopped you because you were going 11 over….

Okay.

…The regular speed limit. And this is a school zone.

[Insert typical excuse here: Rental Car, Don’t know the Area, Didn’t see School Zone sign]

Well, normally it would cost $450, but I’ll just give you a ticket for Unlawful Speeding.

Okay, Thank you.

Guess what time it was: 2:08pm.

Guess what time the school zone was over: 2:10pm

Double Ugh.

The detailed instructions on where to find a beer was going to come in handy. Thank you, Cousin B

We arrived $150 lighter and marveled at their screened in porch that is the same size as The Shack., waited for our hosts to join us, then changed into our swimsuit for a dip in the pool.

Another first for Ruthie.

She loved it. And I mean loved it. We tried putting her in a little baby carrier pool thing, but she wanted to be held directly in the water so she could kick and flit freely like a little mermaid.

Our time there was short-lived, so I had to squeeze in as much bonding time as possible. To do this, within minutes of seeing my cousin, I grabbed my upset stomach and yelled for the nearest bathroom. The two other bathrooms were being used, so as I ran like a chicken with my head cutoff, she hollered ‘Go Straight, Turn Right, Light a Match’ like I was a rat in a maze.

But that’s how I roll: Hi B. Haven’t seen you since Christmas before Ruth, now give me a match. Strike that, give me a book of matches.

Whatever. She didn’t care.

It went uphill from there, thankfully. Candyland games, steak dinners, lounging on the couch with a glass of red wine and watching Betty White’s hidden video show, listening to R and B’s husband (B) sitting in the dark laughing at cartoons.

And listening to monsters growl from little boy B’s pockets. Here’s how a typical conversation with him went.

What’s up little boy B.
Rawrawrarrrrrr!!!
Oh my gosh! What was that?!!
[pulling open a pocket] That was Wolfman. He’s loud.
Do you always carry Wolfman in your pocket?
No. I let him out at night to play. Rawrawrarrrrr!!!
What was THAT?
Just the creature from the black lagoon.
Whaaat? How many do you have in there, I’m scared!
There’s five. They keep me up at night. It’s tiring.
Tell me about it, kid. I’ve got the same problems.

It varied from time to time, depending on the different monster in his pocket at that moment, but it all amounted to him being exhausted from taking care of them.

Until one time I heard Rawrawrrarrrrr!!!

Oh my gosh, was that Dracula!?
No one. It was my stomach growling.

Ruth’s stomach was growling too, so I used every one of B’s mixers to make some veggie slop.

No literally. Every utensil.

Hey, I just got up close and personal with your bathroom, B… can I now dirty everything within hands reach in your kitchen and then bail out on dishes after you only insist on doing them yourself one time.

I did offer. Promise.

The saddest part of the visit was leaving. Little girl B told us several times that it would be okay if we just stayed there forever. I asked her to double check that one with her mom. And a couple hours into our drive to Charleston, I noticed that we missed a call. It was little girl B. She wanted to tell us she missed Ruth.

Too sweet.

Up (kinda) next: Two City Tours. One of them was calm and collected. The other was Jersey Shore on crack.

Even Ruth thought so.

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.

Hanging with the In-Laws

Feb17

We had a great weekend with my in/out-laws. R took Friday off and we took our time driving that morning, stopping at Ropp’s Bakery (an amish/mennonite farm that sells the best donuts around), and taking a different route than normal. I drove most of the way because I’ve found that if R is trapped in the passenger seat he’s more likely to have a conversation with me. Otherwise, he drifts off into his own world while driving.

When we arrived, Ruth (as always) attacked her family.

She was happy to be out of the car seat and in her grandma’s arms. I was happy to be there too, because our visits normally revolve around one major thing: FOOD. There’s a plethora of snacks that I really shouldn’t eat, but do. This weekend I tried to hold off as best I could…

until they ordered BBQ for dinner.

Hello, ribs. Is this seat taken?

I literally could not stop myself from sucking every last bit of meat off that bone. It was bloody. I’m pretty sure I was a T-Rex in my past life. Probably the best BBQ I’ve had in a long time (not counting the homemade ribs my mom made that are de-LICIOUS).

And the carcass on my plate proved it.

Ruth was in shock and watched my every move.

Ah, drooling in the face of ribs.

She really IS my daughter. I knew it.

We also read bedtime stories.

and laid beside her as she struggled to fall asleep.

5 months must have brought out the full moon in her, because for a baby that went down pretty easily (despite a few rough moments here and there), she has begun to fight naps consistently. Arms locked in the upward dog position, screaming bloody murder.

The first few minutes are cute. And then frustrating. And then draining. Doesn’t she know we’ll be here when she wakes up, ready to play?

Mornings though, are the best. Despite going down with a grimace, she always without fail wakes up with a smile.

At breakfast, grandpa showed her how to let birds land on her finger.

When R was younger, after watching a bird land on Mary Poppins finger, he decided that he was going to catch a bird too. He stood outside with his finger in the above position for a very long time, waiting for a bird to hang out with him.

So serious. It’s both funny and sad at the same time. I hope Ruth has a little of that in her.

The weekend was spent relaxing, watching old movies (think pre-1960s) which R and I have become obsessed with, having passionate rants about this subject or that (like my FIL’s article for a newsletter that was butchered by the editor to the point that it made him sound like an idiot – or so the story goes.. we’ve yet to lay eyes on said story.), organizing the newly finished basement, looking at J’s cross-stitched artworks, ogling over primitive-style decor in magazines, napping for both adults & babies, and generally hanging out.

Our last day we went to church and R’s mom joined me in the cry room for most of the service. It’s located in the back with a big window looking into the auditorium so you feel like you’re still actually a part of the congregation, unlike the one at our local church where I feel quarantined in a small, windowless, florescent-lit, white-walled room. This one was a breath of fresh air.

And after the preacher made a joke about having to always listen to “the same lame stories at family get-togethers”, J and I started giggling really hard. So hard in fact that we glanced down at sleeping Ruth and she had her eyes wide open staring at us. We couldn’t stop laughing and she couldn’t stop giving us a confused stare.

But it’s those same worn-down stories that we’ll be telling when we’re grandparents too. And you’ll be happy we did, Ruthie, because they’ll give you comfort when we’re not here anymore.

Trust me.

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.

Family Game Weekend

Feb3

I am so very lucky to be able to stay at home. It’s been a hard and easy adjustment at the same time. Hard in that I am now responsible for someone at all times, someone who has not yet got my sense of humor and, I’m assuming, is saving all of her laughs for one big explosive guffaw. And easy in that I have the time to make the adjustment. If today doesn’t go smoothly, tomorrow is right around the corner to try again.

But one aspect I’m especially enjoying is the flexibility. For instance, while R went on a business trip for 5 days, I visited my parents who live 4 hours away. Those times to connect are priceless for both me and Ruthie.

We started the week relaxing by the fire. I don’t really call that pose relaxing, but whatever floats your boat Ruth. One of us should at least have abs. And it sure ain’t gonna be me.

My sister came over later in the evening for a game of Scrabble. I used to hate that game, but now it’s one of our staples at mom and dad’s. Ruth did her obligatory “lunge and attack” welcome.

The next day aunts, uncles, and cousins came over to play Family Feud, eat pizza, and chit-chat. My favorite part of the day, actually, was us all cramming into the kitchen to talk. Ruthie met up with her third cousin, K. I’m so happy to have another little one around Ruth’s age.

Now I understand how my oldest sister felt, wanting her kids to grow up with cousins. Her youngest is about 4 years older than Ruth, which is no big deal when you’re out dancing in your mid-twenties… but right now the gap is extraordinary. At one point a few years ago, her husband tried to bribe us into having a kid so they would have others to play with.

The statute of limitations has apparently expired because he never paid up.

Look at those blue eyes! Just like her mama…

Snuggling with her oldest cousin, W. Poor W. He really needs some boy cousins. R wasn’t here to steal him away for a game of football unfortunately.

Before Family Feud began, we watched little K turn into a blur as she ran around the living room. Ruth studied her very intently. I was studying my mom’s white socks. She’s the President of Michael Jackson’s Over-55 Fan Club and takes the white socks/black shoes very seriously. It’s cute.

Then we plopped down into teams for Family Feud. Mom was the moderator. Well co-moderator. Her socks were also hosting.

See that empty seat? Yeah, there’s always an empty seat somewhere in my photos. Wanna know why? Because I’m always taking the photos. It kind of bites, actually.

So I asked my sister to take one of me.

And I used it as an excuse to see if there was anything up my nose.

There wasn’t.

Throughout the game, my mom made Ding Ding Ding and Buzz noises to indicate if our answer was correct. At one point, we were concerned that we’d have to call 911. She would say DingDingDinalupoding or Bivffff. And you could tell she was really trying to say the right thing. My future flashed before my eyes and I reassured her that they still had a spot in The Shack if need be.

D stepped in with the answer, thanks to his iPhone. If he hadn’t, we’d still be sitting there watching her try to get the right word out.

A family photo with Unc and K was simply not having it. Ruth avoided eye-contact so she wouldn’t feel embarrassed.

A couple other things happened over my trip which I’ll talk about later.

But first, check out the flea market where Ruth decided to have a blow out on our way home to Arkansas. Awe. Some. Ruth hadn’t gone boo snake (anyone else heard that phrase? My grandma would say it) for 5 days and when does she let loose? 90 minutes into our car ride. I even called it beforehand, so it wasn’t entirely unexpected.

After our walkthrough and clean up, we stopped for gas and, while there, saw someone who needed a Blessing Bag. Remember those that we made? I gave away two on this trip alone. It was great.

I sure did enjoy my time and am so thankful to have had it.

Time.

Don’t take it for granted.

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. 🙂

Trapezoid Baby Blanket

Jul18

No problem, she said.

No one can screw this project up, she said.

Okay, let’s do it, I agreed. So after 30 years of living and breathing, I went under my mom’s guiding hand and turned on the sewing machine. A couple of hours later I came-to and she told me to get into the car. We needed fabric.

And off to Jo-Ann’s we went! I was excited, picturing this like the library of textiles. I’d be sure to love it.

Instead it was like a horror film.

Where the…

h-e-double hockey sticks…

am I???!!

[cue screams of horror]

This was moments before I started getting dizzy and off-balance. So I quickly focused on the 50% off sign, which can ground even the most vertigo-ed of victims.

After finally just closing my eyes and pointing to two fabrics, we had them cut and made our way back home.

We got to work pinning the fabrics (after a good wash), while I also tried to hold a ‘blank white wall’ intervention with my mom.

Nothing worked.

I convinced myself that she was going for the “tuberculosis asylum” look in honor of my great-grandma who was admitted in the 40s or 50s, but failed to forget that they probably would’ve posted cards up on the wall at least.

In other news, she did paint the living room Eggshell White or something like that. Progress is being made, people.

After we were done pinning, mom suggested we go to the sewing corner she created for me.

Yay! My very own sewing corner!!

…In the darkest corner of the house.

It was like Flowers in the ~~Attic~~ Basement and was the one time I wish everything were painted white. Don’t sweatshops even have painted walls?

She patiently showed me all the nuts and bolts, and I quickly got to work. Loved using the 40+ years machine- It felt solid and sturdy.

A while later, this ~~square~~ blanket magically appeared.

Check out the bottom. Now that’s what I’m talking about! Nothing like a good steady decline, if I don’t say so myself.

Baby better appreciate this.

English Doorways to Goodness

May27

For some reason I could not pull over my first post on our trip to the english countryside, but you can read it here: http://cuethebanjo.blogspot.com/2011/03/counting-sheep.html

Today, I’ve been musing over the various doorways and entrances on our vacation. Here are some we encountered:

The one, two, and hop! gate

The getting lost (and then found) doorway

Come listen to sonnets entryway

Bull in the field warning gate

Local pub beckons you door

Farm up ahead gate

The sign is wrong doorway

English garden entryway

Tower of London creepy corners

But my above all favorite:

Early morning sun on fields gate

What have I been up to?

Jan10

Nothing much, honestly. Reading on gardening and picking out seeds, harboring a second bout with back pain that is slowly getting better, and riding the waves of enjoyment and loss as we watched our rabbits (finally) have a small litter and then lose them.

But other than that, nothing much.

So let’s go over the last part of December, which was jam packed with warmth; from friends, family, and indeed the sun.

R had a rough couple of months; working long hours and generally stressing out. So we booked a quick trip to Florida to rest up.

I found a little place that got good reviews and was decidedly within our budget. Ever since sleeping in a hut steps from the ocean with no a/c or hot water, I can’t bring myself to spend money on a room. The hut (click here) had to be my favorite beach side experience.

This cutie of a building was juxtaposed right next to some towering ones which I’m sure charged double ours, and I smiled at our good luck. Plus, we had a tiny bar & grill located on the first floor. Isn’t that all you need?

I apparently couldn’t spend money on a taxi either, because I forced R to bus it from the airport. $3.50 vs $50? Um, we’re hanging with the locals, R. Somehow we made it the entire way without spending a dime, as the driver felt sorry for both us and a couple from Amsterdam for not knowing what we were doing.

We were only there for a couple days, so each morning we rushed downstairs to fall back asleep under the rising sun.

And then we’d wake up to take long walks along the deserted beach. Note to self: only travel during the week. What uncrowded bliss!

After our jaunt, we’d plop back down onto our chairs for a pina colada, or other rest-inducing drink.

I’d look over occasionally and find R testing out his US Army survival manual that he chose to bring along, by trying to light stuff on fire through his glasses.

I would periodically sit on the hammocks to remind myself to never stay where there is a bar & grill so nearby again.

Or we’d go body surfing for a couple hours. I was the judge this time around.

We’d see guys running around with a football, and R would have gaze longingly at them. He stood nearby like how all young kids do when they want to play, but don’t want to ask. Politely, with hands behind the back.

Alas, he was never asked.

After our beachside retreat ended, I called up my cousin that lives in the area. She picked us up and promptly took us to a 5-star quality dinner… in their backyard! I have never, never had such thick and well-prepared steak before, in restaurants or at home. It was delightful, and B served us up some official drinks along the way.

I mean, has anyone ever used that measuring cup before? I didn’t even know what it was.. maybe to hold whole eggs for an English dinner?

No, it actually has a use, and by golly she used it. I was impressed.

After they put their son to bed, we headed outside to the hot tub for loud laughs and fun conversation, and even an occasional push into the pool.

And yes, they provided us with robes! Where are we?? This is a long cry from the hut, my friends.

Thus ended a great few day escape for the two of us. If I could put that trip into a bottle, I would. It’d sell, I’m sure of it.

And the winner is…

Dec6

What happens when you mix two girls, one of which is due soon, and two dueling chicken restaurants in Pittsburg, KS? Honestly?Mostly heartburn. But at least there’s laughter along the way.

My friend, J, and I met up at Fort Scott, KS to enjoy one last get together before baby H is born. We were coming from opposite directions so this little town seemed a good midway point. I found a hotel right smack in the middle of downtown, in which all streets were bricked.

You know that made me happy.

We pulled up to our hotel, waved at the owner and hopped out.

Move it, J. I know you’ve just driven a couple hours and need to relax, but we’ve got some eating to do… and Momma Carolyn is hungry.

Here was the plan:

This is not for the faint of heart, my friends. You need to train diligently for this type of assault. No sit-ups, no portioning, and definitely no dieting. Eat grease, nap, and conveniently forget where you put the scale.

I’ve been in training for this night it seems since the day I was born.

But first, we had to check out the barracks.

And this was our first test. Could we walk in to a multitude of patterns on the bed and the wall without losing focus? J held up well. I, on the other hand, had to sit down and put my head between my legs for a second.

Luckily I only wear solids, otherwise J would’ve lost me in there.

We didn’t waste any time, but headed to our first destination: Chicken Mary’s.

Before I get into our analysis of each restaurant, can I point out that J only has two months to go before she’s due (not to mention the fact that she’s wearing horizontal stripes!)? Don’t make me cuss, J.

She looks like me after Thanksgiving dinner. So I was more than happy to shove fried chicken in her mouth.

I don’t have as many photos of Chicken Mary’s as I do Chicken Annie’s, so I’ll give you a brief description. We walked in and me, being a bundle of nerves, walked up to the check out lady and asked her seat us. She pointed us to the right person who graciously led us to a corner table. The room was busy and it felt cozy. Country decor, candle on the table.

The waitress, whose name we did not write down (oh yes, folks, we took notes) advised us to *not* drink the tap water. She looked horrified at our suggestion that we could.

J loved the potato salad, stating “It has a dill taste.” This is of course after she took a nibble and rolled it around in her mouth like a Top Chef judge. I could only taste potato. The applesauce was sweeter than Motts, which we later found out had cherry mixed in.

We loved the thigh, to which we agreed, that once you go thigh you just can’t go back. The fried skin on all pieces were perfect: crunchy & greasy, or, how we justified it, “juicy.”

Then it was off to Chicken Annie’s.

We walked there from Chicken Mary’s as they are literally side by side, and appreciated the brief reprieve from grease. I spotted a windmill and it instantly got a plus sign in my book.

We entered into a more open floorplan, which made it seem less busy. I had no confusion as to who was the hostess. She took us to a corner table as well, however this one was not yet ready and the cooks in the kitchen yelled at someone to come clean it. Open floorplan, remember.

I guess Annie would’ve yelled from the kitchen too. Authenticity? check.

Our waitress, Carly, instantly sat down with us to discuss the menu.

She said to J, and I quote “You can drink it. I like the water, but I’m weird.” Chicken Mary’s – no water. Chicken Annie’s – yes water.

We’re getting somewhere.

We devoured our meal and discussed:

J thought the potato salad was greasier, with more of saur kraut taste. I could only taste potato. The applesauce was plain. The chicken skins were not extra crispy and the white meat surprisingly ended up being juicer than the dark.

By the looks of my hands, it appears that I was slowly turning into a chicken myself.

Let’s take a look at a few more comparisons:

CM – no stuffed chicken in lobby. CA – chicken proudly displayed.
CM – smaller butter, but no trans fat. CA – HUGE, but with hydrogenated oil.
CM – no arcade corner/living room. CA – yes, in which we both dilly-dallied.
CM – total $12.45 CA – total $9.39 (however, I did buy a lottery ticket at CA and won a dollar, so make that $8.39)
CM – only lettering on sign. CA – lettering and a chicken that spoke.

The verdict?

Chicken Mary’s won on the actual chicken dish. Chicken Annies? Ambiance & Creativity. Who can beat looking eye to eye with the animal you just enjoyed.

Did you think we ended there, though?

Heck no! We took our wild and crazy selves, back to our 20-toned room for some dessert. Chocolate on graham crackers, cheeze whiz style.

J asked if I could make her one. Little did she know that my chocolate to cracker ratio is about 300 to 1.

She didn’t touch it.

Afterwards, we watched TV and knitted for a couple hours. Looks like I was trying to knit a spider web of sorts.

But it didn’t take long before we fell asleep into a grease-induced coma.

The next morning we hopped on a guided tour of Fort Scott.

We were the only ones on it.

The announcer said that if we had any questions, to feel free and ask him. I did several times and he never answered. Ah, I felt right at home, Fort Scott. Or shall I call you Scott from now on?

The town has got some real beauties of architecture. I was so engrossed with it that I didn’t realize how stupid it was to not have a lid on my steaming coffee. Several third-degree burns later, I was still enjoying the views.

It was a quick trip; we only stayed a night and left before noon the next day. But like every time I hang out with J, it’s never the amount of time, but the quality. I so enjoy her! Can’t wait to make these trips a trio with baby H.

The Battle of Caaahrthage

Nov7

We fought the battle and won, my friends.

You know, the “weekend spent with 3 sisters, a sister-in-law, and a mother all in the attic of a bed & breakfast during their wine festival without killing each other” battle.

Any time a night hasn’t ended with a drink thrown in your face and the silent treatment, consider it a victory.

But it really wasn’t hard. And we were tested. Oh yes, we were tested.

Try going to the bathroom in front of four people in a space with no partitions.

No amount of magazines will help that situation.

But, to be true, we won probably because I paced myself….

..or because of the $20 lipstick complete with a built in lighted mirror. You know, in case you go spelunking in a cave with some girlfriends and need to freshen up.

This little gem just might have been the saving grace.

After our freshening up, we stepped out onto the front lawn to have a lunch while sampling the local vendors.

I’ve often wondered if I couldn’t sell at one of these events. With all the grapes left in the back of the fridge, some of them are bound to ferment, right?

After several moves around the lawn and a couple more samples, we hit the town.

Dancing? Why yes, but not us this time.

The Kansas City Marching Cobras happened to be in Carthage this particular weekend! My sister L looked on like a proud mother as she was the only one of us who had seen them before. She continually asked us if we were sure we wanted to go see them, and then afterwards thanked us all for coming as if she hosted the group in her living room.

The Marching Cobras was started up in KC as a way for inner city kids to have a positive outlet, while also having to maintain a certain gpa, etc. They were a nice addition to our weekend!

When we arrived back at the B&B, we convinced the owners to turn on the twinkle lights on the front porch. Oh, to have a spacious, stone front porch like this one.

I would invest in only white linen dresses, cinched at the waist and insist that my hair be pulled up in a loose bun. Sigh.

We sat around sampling more wines, shoving chinese food down our gullets,

while L put on more lipstick.

We talked around the table for a good couple hours before heading up to the attic where it felt like a scene from Little Women.

Why do I always have to play the role of Beth?

Unlike Beth, my heart did survive the night and the next morning we woke up to breakfast downstairs. This is the first time I’ve had to sit with the hosts and other guests at one table. It was awkward at first, since it felt a little intimate.

Luckily they were the talkative sort and kept up both their and my end of the conversation. Functional Introvert saved once again!

Mom had to wear her sunglasses because of the sun and I laughed inappropriately loud for so early in the morning. The host quickly served our first course after that loud guffaw.

A couple poems were read and some well-rehearsed stories were told by the hosts, then we parted ways from cute Carthage, MO.

Writing this post has made me realize that as soon as I do something, I need to write about it. I’m sure there were a ton of little nuances throughout the stay that made me come away with this feeling of having had such a good time, but for the life of me, I cannot recall them. But maybe that isn’t true. Maybe it was just the feeling of being together that left a good mark on my memory. Kind of like reading a book on a crisp sunny afternoon that resulted in a more refreshed version of yourself than when you first sat down. Nothing in particular, but just the whole of the experience.

Thank you girlies!

Fall colors

Oct10

Yes, she made it over the fence.. right into R’s arms. I think she squealed too. I was *this* close to asking them to hang out with us all day. Just full of laughter they were and a good spirit surrounding them.

We finished up the trail and walked back to the car.

On the way, we spotted this bridge/gate/entrance which I asked R to try out.

And when we finally arrived home to our room, there was a small raspberry birthday cake waiting for us. Yes, we ate it all. Only because we couldn’t take it home and didn’t want it to go to waste. Really. We were being extremely selfless in our actions.

The next day our flight didn’t leave until the evening, which ended up being cancelled and us staying an extra night. If we had known that was going to happen, we’d have rerouted our last hours.

So we drove north to the Vermont/Massachusetts border and walked along the Robert Frost trail. Anytime I think of Frost, I always revert back to my almost collision with the Grandaddy Spider of year 2000’s descendant. He almost got me, but I’ve been on my toes since that fateful day in my basement bedroom. Click here to read.

We started on the paved trail, but after I ran into the woods for a potty break (R had to keep watch for cyclists, and counted down 10 seconds as a couple were coming), I spotted an unpaved trail through the woods. Talk about less travelled! It was absolutely crucial to do this one and on we went…

…All the way until we found the official Robert Frost Trail mailbox. You know, for you to send letters to ole Bob.

So, I left one.

Hey Bobby, I took the road less travelled a few years back and I’m still itching from that rash. Thanks for that, Carolyn.

I figured he wanted feedback on that poem, you know. Better late than never.

On our way out, we gave one last glance to the Vermont countryside and headed home. We will be back to this part of the country again, you can count on it.

Fly me to the moon.

Oct4

It really backfired on him, this surprising me with a trip and planning out the major details thing. Because, before, I would do all of the planning and never knew of this state of being called “laid-back.” I just thought that was a synonym for lazy.

Um, no. It’s not. In fact, it’s a synonym for happy and hungry. Because that’s what I was the whole trip.

I knew something was going down, folks, I’m not gonna lie. Everytime I suggested we do something over last weekend, my question was deflected. And R is normally not a planner. So for him to continually push aside someone else’s pre-packaged idea raised red flags.

So did his question to me, “Carolyn, if we were going to go to Hot Springs, what make-up would you bring? No don’t just point them out, pile them up at the end of the counter and leave them there.”

Hmm… so I”m taking it we’re going to Hot Springs. (This shows that I didn’t think R planned ahead even to formulate a hypothetical situation.)

I went to work and R planned to pick me up with our muffler that happens to have an engine attached. When he pulled around, I squealed, “Hot Springs or bust!” and he smiled. All the way to the airport.

I love our airport. It’s so tiny that Economy parking is a car lot away from the main doors. We get excited over things like that.

But he still wouldn’t tell me where were going until the tickets were in my hand. And then they were.

New England! I squealed (again). We had been wanting to go up there for a while now, and this was just perfect timing….with the leaves and all.

Because I was in that particular state of being (happy – not hungry this time) and everything R did made me giggle. He took advantage, too. Like when decided to change his watch forward an hour by comparing the airline map with the view out the window to determine when the exact time changed.

I think I was delirious.

But I especially loved looking out the window and seeing the moon below us. I don’t think I’d ever seen that before on a flight. Both Sinatra as well as Hey Diddle Diddle came to mind. And after the chicken bacon foot long sandwich I put down prior to take-off, like I was actually training to jump over the moon, I thought the latter was more appropriate.

By midnight we had arrived, and we still had an hour to the B&B. The owner, E, said to come whenever, that’d he’d wait up for us.

When we arrived, there E was. He opened up the door to our very victorian room and I was greeted with a Birthday sign, a bouquet of handpicked flowers, and sherry!

My nasal pitch got so loud, E had to close the door. As he bid us goodnight, he said he had another surprise tomorrow.

I’m liking this place already.

The next morning we ate a big breakfast, wandered around the grounds, got chased by a pit bull, and then I unpacked my suitcase that R lovingly put together. It weighed no less than 65 lbs and literally had my entire closet it in. Out of the 5 skirts and 7 shirts he brought, I decided on an outfit and searched in the pockets for my razor.

Where. is. my. razor. (!!!)

He managed to pack up the entire Shack and somehow leave one crucial device behind. And considering I hadn’t shaved since 1872, I was in desperate need. I went back down to the living room and tried to find one from that particular year, but they must have just run out.

Seems that even though their legs were covered up by layers and layers of stockings and bloomers and skirts and who knows what else, the Victorian ladies still shaved their legs more often than me.

My first plan of the weekend included a trip to the nearest Walgreens and a shaving in the car. I’m pretty classy.

It was gorgeous out, so R and I took advantage. We went to an open-air museum with a nautical theme. I’ve discovered I’m not a big boat buff. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I really like them while I’m in them, with a floppy hat and a glass of wine. Looking at them and reading about the history of boats, ummm not so much.

So I spent the majority of the time trying to scare R staring at him stone-faced through various windows until he’d catch a glance. Problem is, everyone else looked first before R and I suddenly became known as that weirdo Shining lady.

R spent his time creeping me out by analyzing a doctor’s office shelf. Seriously, what was all that used for. Wait, I don’t want to know.

For lunch, we headed back to downtown Mystic, Connecticut and decided to go to none other than…

Mystic Pizza! I tried to channel my inner Julia Roberts, but could only squeeze out her 1980s bushy eyebrows.

Oh well, I’ll take what I can get. And the pizza was fantastic! I love when something is not so over-hyped that the food takes a beating.

But hold on!R had another outing up his sleeve. We drove to Newport, Rhode Island which has now become my new favorite place to visit.

He had heard of a “cliff walk” that bordered the ocean. It snaked its way in front of the mansions and estates along the shore.

We picked up a couple small bottles of vino and slowly walked along sipping our drinks, holding hands, and wondering what it would be like to (clean) live in those beauties.

Outside one estate, we heard some people rustling in the bushes.

R found an opening in one and went through. I followed closely behind to find…

a couple escapees! It was the butler and the maid making a run for it. Okay, no it wasn’t but they really did want to climb over the fence to join everyone on the Cliff Walk. R and I laughed so hard because the husband was not shy about lifting up her leg to hurl her over. So R stepped in to help.

Do you think she made it?

Stay tuned.

Jane Austen Festival, Part Two

Jul15

On our way to Louisville, mom asked me to try on The Dress. She’s had this puppy since the late 60s when she wore it. So with a groan, I grabbed it from her knowing it would end just like when we tried on The Wedding Dress: A tug here and tug there only to get it over my knees. Man, she was a twig.

So I grabbed the thing, went in the back of the RV and threw it on, all the while trying not to be thrown from one side of the vehicle to the other. Afterwards, I noticed that all of the windows were open to the road.

You’re welcome drivers of Interstate 277.

So you already know the outcome: Lots of letting out.

Whatever. Women were fuller back then anyway, right. Right?

Once arrived, we suited mom up in her (Bavarian maid?) outfit and headed over to the festival. We didn’t have long to explore the grounds because we’d signed up for a reticule class.

It should’ve been called the ridicule class, because my gawd I have no skills in sewing or embroidery.

At one point, mom asked something to the effect of “Can you not even tie a knot?”. And I replied that she had had almost 30 years to teach me.

But no, I can’t tie a knot with thread, thankyouverymuch, so please just do it for me Bavarian Maid. And after you’re done, go bring me some tea.

After the class, we wandered around the property slowly due to mom’s back. But this gave us ample time to throw myself on unsuspecting people trying to enjoy their day.

Oh, you’re relaxing in the shade and eating lunch? Well let me join you!

Click

Oh, you’re seconds from going on stage to do a runway show? Well let me join you!

Click

Oh, this is an all-male club? Well, then I’m definitely joining you because it will make the boys on my husband’s side annoyed.

Click

Oh, you’re trying to have a pleasant walkabout with your husband? Let me join you!

Click

And it went on and on and on…. No one escaped the tornado that was Carolyn (and her maid).

Later, we toured a refurbished home on Locust Grove.

Mom couldn’t make it to the top floor, and how she would’ve enjoyed this tour guide! She was so serious and engaging. “…oh now this is really interesting!” and so on and so forth.

After the tour was over, mom asked what time our tea was to be served because she was quite hungry. Wondering why I wasn’t on par with her hunger level, I remembered having found her near some peculiar-looking larger than life plants.

So we headed to the tea room for lunch.

On both days we had interesting companions.

On day one, we sat with a quirky lady (and you know how much I love quirkiness) from Chicago as well as her sister.

The next day we found some kindred spirits. A mother and her daughter had come to share the day together.

We first toasted to Jane Austen, clinked our glasses, and then cried. No seriously. We teared up. It started when J asked if we watched the series Cranford. Not two seconds after she got the word out, mom and I squealed. And then promptly teared up.

It’s hard to explain. But when you meet people who have the same exact interests as you and love it to the same degree as you, it just makes you feel connected to them.

After tea, we had another class to attend. But the sunny skies and green grass called out to me. So I parted ways with mom and set off on my own. I could’ve walked those grounds all day long, it was so relaxing.

And then I stumbled upon a firearms display: shooting several different styles from that era. Very interesting!

I got up in this presenter’s face for a photo, but I’ll save that for a later time. It has something to do with a husband of mine.

Anyway, all-in-all we had a good time. The weather was perfect (considering it rained all the way up and all the way back from KY) and there were interesting presenters. I wish mom’s back had been better and we’d done a couple things differently, but like I said, it was fun.

It’s even spurred me to find other regency-era events in my area, possibly to partake in? We’ll see. And then so will you.

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