May Whee

In one of the many driving-in-the-car scenarios in which the children entreat me to tell them a story and I lazily turn it around and compel them to tell me a story, Muriel was up to the task. As usual, we all clamored that it should have a scary part. Here is what Muriel said:

"Once upon a time there was a mean and scary ghost. Every day, he would go out and steal someone's puppy."

That is both mean and scary! Wow.

Lots and lots has been going on. Like, um, let's see, oh, right! The ENTIRE month of April! I did finally donate blood. I had a lovely girls' weekend with my homegirl from Boise. Jim and I went to a Paul Simon concert with our friends. Naomi participated in her first ever science fair. The guys who are working on a huge renovation to the neighbors' house next door have magically removed our patio, the patio cover, all the grass in the front yard, and our decaying extra parking space. We're getting ready to hire someone to re-do our bathroom.

And...the dog died. It was the first of May, very early in the morning. I was fast asleep, and Jim came in and said, Honey. Honey. He never wakes me up, so I knew something was wrong. It's Luna, he said. She died.

She was where she always sleeps, where the living room meets the bottom of the stairs, and looking like she always looks, but with her eyes a little open. She was so soft, and beautiful, and I petted her and cried and cried of course and am crying again right now writing about it. The kids finally woke up and came out, and Muriel was a little teary when she saw how upset I was, and Naomi immediately started to strategize about how to make the situation better, saying, We can get a goldfish, we can get another dog. We all said goodbye to her and then Jim took her to the emergency vet clinic where they cremate your pet for you.

This past Monday I walked down there to pick her up, thinking it would be good exercise and I would be able to distract myself, keep my head clear, and just think about everything. Turns out what I was able to do was sob openly half of the way there and the whole way back, with the little box of Luna's remains in a sunny yellow fabric bag in my hand. I'm so glad I thought to bring my sunglasses!

Anyway, I am half considering writing a post about Luna, who really deserves it. It would be the longest post ever. Girlfriend was with me 15 years! But for now, this is it, Happy May, see you 'round.

Duh

I had a blood donation appointment over the lunch hour yesterday, and I went to it, and filled out the questionnaire with the mildly intrusive personal questions, but I left the one at the top blank. The one at the top was something along the lines of "Are you feeling well and healthy today?" Yes or No? Seems like an easy question, right?

But I was not sure. Because I am not feeling 100% well and healthy. I woke up the day before yesterday with a bit of a sore throat, and I've had a little groggy haze on me since then. On the other hand, I was feeling better yesterday than I was the day before, and at no point did I feel like I was truly sick, or consider staying home from work, or anything like that.

And, maybe I'm flattering myself here, but these people really, really want my blood. They call me ALL the time. So in some part of my head, as I was studiously filling out little circles about tattoos and anticoagulants and partners, and dreaming up a little teeny version of those bingo parlor markers to speed up form completion, I was thinking that there might be a pretty low bar for feeling well and healthy.

Which is, of course, ridiculous. As soon as I started to explain that I wasn't sure about the VERY FIRST QUESTION on the form, I realized that I should have stopped right at the first little circle and approached the counter. Better yet, I should have called them and asked, before I drove down there. Geez. To the credit of the lovely people at the blood center, they did not openly mock me. They even went so far as to say it was up to me whether I thought I was too sick to donate.

So, no blood donation for me yesterday. No grape juice box, no Keebler cookies. And to the person who does not get a low-grade cold with their blood transfusion, you're welcome. I will bring my healthy self back next week and hook you up.

Slow Down!

The other day I was complaining to a coworker that I was never able to make this particular monthly work meeting because it starts at eight o'clock and I am on the hook to deliver a Kindergartener to her classroom between 8:25 and 8:40 every day. I can't remember if I was expressing frustration about missing the meeting (doesn't sound like me), or frustration about the inflexibility of Kindergarten start times, but whatever I complained about, my coworker came back with some wise, soothing words about how the important thing was to focus on enjoying dropping my kid off at school.

At the time, it felt like an Aha! moment, a gift from this wiser parent to me. Of course it should be a delight to drop my child off at school. Why focus on it as one more thing that I have to do that gets in the way of the other seventy-five things I have to do? And I thought about it that way for a few days. In fact, I put my whole morning focus off the constant hectoring to move and get socks on and brush hair and onto just hanging around and having pleasant conversation (which Naomi and I do, after Jim leaves with Muriel, quite often, and with sometimes funny results). The outcome, that week, was that we were very nearly late to school four out of five days.

The takeaway, I guess, is that simply being more mellow and less frantic doesn't make things run more smoothly, it just makes them less frantic. Which I KNOW is better for the kids. I know it stresses them out when I herd them from breakfast to clothes to socks to grooming to lunch bags, and so forth. They talk about it all the time. And just because I feel better being eight minutes early to school instead of 30 seconds early, it doesn't make it actually better. But how do I get those seven and a half minutes back while still leaving behind the frantic? And, to go back to the sage advice from my coworker, how do I make something like the daily drop-off into a meaningful thing that we do together instead of a to-do item we tick off every day?

Another Saturday Night

Jim is out fetching me a frozen treat, so this will be a quick one. Which reminds me that I have a little tense agreement issue on the last post that I would like to remember to fix. Will I? We'll see.

No doubt I have already written about how having children illuminates the extent to which personality traits might actually be written right into your genetic material. Today it occurred to me that my stubborn belief that it is only my inability to adequately explain my position that prevents people from going along with it, and my tendency to therefore continue to explain and counter-explain in an effort to get it right, might actually be genetic. Because I see Naomi do it every single day, when I say no to her, and she argues tirelessly. Because she is so absolutely committed to the idea that if I only just understood her objection, I would have to change my mind. Sigh.

Tonight at bedtime the girls told me what sports they were going to excel in later in life. Basketball, field hockey, Foosball, Carrom, and Flaptacular. The last one is a Disney-branded Tinkerbell version of a card game I think we used to call "Spit," a deck for which we received in a birthday party goodie bag today. Flaptacular! I find Disney branding evil as a rule, but I have to give them some credit for that awesomely ridiculous name.

Here's a picture of us sledding in Arizona last month. More soon!

First Day of Spring

Ahh, nice weekend! Sunbreaks! Supermoon! Leisure! We had a little break from the pouring, inexorable rain, and the kids actually got to play outside.


Plus, they had one of those days when their play is so very together, so harmonious and delighted, that it strikes an almost unbearably pleasant chord in me I wouldn't even have been able to hear before the two of them came along.

So, yeah, welcome, spring! Please to muscle through the rainclouds again sometime soon. Next weekend would be good.

Anecdotally Adults

Where I work there are web pages that we make, with, you know, information on them, and people who are in search of this information have the option to provide feedback on the information. Occasionally they do, and when they do, the web page sends an email to someone with the feedback. Because I was one of the saps who learned how to make these web pages back when we first started doing it, often these emails get sent to me. Every single one is a complaint. It is my job to log some response to the complaint in the system that tracks this feedback, although the submitter never sees my response. I usually say, "We're working on this." or "I fixed the broken link." Helpful!

The longer my setups get, the more I lose faith in the payoff. Oh well. So a few weeks ago I got... a positive feedback form. "The material is clear and easy to understand." Sweet Mother Mary, positive feedback! The headline of the email even included the unusual phrase "(no action required)". I forwarded it to my team lead, with the incredulous note, "Not sure this has ever happened before." Then I forgot about it. Until the team lead, a few weeks later, forwarded it to ALL the writers in our group. With my super-encouraging note included. Excellent. Good work, everyone!

So that's the work side. At home, also known as "Where I Do Laundry," I was...wait for it...getting ready to start a load of laundry. I asked Mr. Khooler if he wanted me to wash the jeans and the gray pajamas that were on top of the hamper, which is kind of the demilitarized zone between obviously clean and obviously dirty. He says, The what?

Me: The gray pajamas.
Him: The gray pajamas?
Me: The gray pajamas.
Him: Wait, the gray pajamas?
Me: ????
Him: The gray pajamas?
Me: Are you trying to get me to gouge out my own eyes?

So I bring out the pajamas, which were a Christmas present from me, actually, and are flannel, dark gray (I might have invented this since, but I would swear that the price tag actually had the word "Charcoal" on it) with a white grid pattern. I say, THE GRAY PAJAMAS.

He says, Those are green.

So, the good news is that he is not trying to gaslight me. The bad news is that one of us might be colorblind. Hmm.

The kids are alright. More on them another time.

Un-Habituated

I am so out of the habit of posting that it doesn't even occur to me, even when there is plenty going on. Apologies, ye last two loyal checkers of this blog.

The other evening, just after I picked up Muriel, we saw one of those wacky little single occupant cars that look like something from the Jetsons. I don't know what they are called so I can't even link to information about them. When Muriel saw it, she said, "But how can they pick up their dears?" A valid question!

Last weekend we capped off a trip to see my parents with a stay at a giant house in north eastern Arizona with my whole family. This trip was to celebrate my parents' 50th wedding anniversary. 50 years! I remember around 37 of them. It was a good time- we went sledding one day and skiing another. There was copious snack food and uncomfortable rental home beds. Overall a very nice chance to spend time with the family.

This weekend we held Naomi's birthday party. 14 kids total, milling around our not quite large enough house, dressed in costumes and just generally, well, screaming. There seemed to be a lot of screaming, and also a lot of chanting. It was a long two hours.

Oops, now the computer battery is looking wan and red. Time to call it a night. I will not let the perfect be the enemy of the good. Which means, hopefully, more boring pointless posts on the way!

Slow News Day

5:21 this morning: Jim and I are awakened by a sound that I have been anticipating for weeks- the sound of an elderly dog falling down the stairs to the basement. For that single reader of this blog that has not actually seen our house in person, we have a wooden stairway to the basement that starts just next to the front door, and just next to the tiny stairway up to the upper floor where the bedrooms are. This area of the rest of the house is where Luna likes to sleep, because it's near where we left from (when we leave) and near where we went (when we head to bed). It is the same gap that used to sport a very safety-conscious safety gate, preventing our small children from tumbling down the stairs to the basement, but when the door and window guys came and replaced our front door (with one cunningly customized by none other than Mr. Khooler himself), they had to take out the installed safety gate. So now there is a big dangerous stairway, waiting for someone to fall down it, and the victim I most feared was indeed the victim it claimed, this morning.

So, heart attack at 5:21, but you will be relieved to hear that Luna was just fine, and upon being discovered at the foot of the basement stairs, was ready to prowl around the basement a bit and see what she had been missing. I attribute this resilience to these tasty snacky tablets that the vet prescribed for her at the recent teeth cleaning vet visit- she has been nomming these down every day and has been walking better, begging more shamelessly, and, weirdly, tearing up any kid pictures she can find that were colored with crayon. Make of that what you will. She was fine after the stair tumble. Woo!

One more funny story. We went to a birthday party today, far away from home at a gymnastics place. The kids had a ball, basically running in circles and bouncing on things and doing "forward rolls." (Don't call them somersaults!!!) I watched from the adult viewing platform, like I was on a gymnastics safari. When it was clear that Muriel was losing her ponytail and hair clip configuration, I went down to try to fix things up. When I was yanking her hair back into place, one of the young women who were "coaching" the party asked me, "She is so cute. So, what is she, like, half-Filipino? Half... Chinese?"

"Half Chinese," I said. "Oh," she said, "Half Chinese, and.... half white?"

Dude. I am right here, putting her ponytail in! I am the half! Whatever. It was funny.

Anyway, happy Saturday. I am loving weekends with a fervor usually reserved for Ziggy coffee mugs. Ah, the weekend! Peace out.

Proud Moments at Dinner

Tonight during the ritual telling about one's day, Naomi claimed that she had begged her teacher for "more math." I'm leaving that one alone. Then Muriel taught us the lyrics to "The Chicken Dance" en Espanol. She also showed us a "hip-hop" dance that she had choreographed, which was not exactly distinguishable as hip-hop, but was definitely a cool dance.

Luna went to the vet to get her teeth cleaned today, and while there, had a thing removed from her head. A tumor? A growth? Some thing on her head. So tonight, in addition to uncharacteristically sweet-smelling breath, she has a big weird bald wound on her head, like a meteor strike. Poor thing. She has been drinking water like she could never have conceived of something so wonderful, and is now sleeping in much the same vein. Rough day!

January has been whizzing by, which is strange, because it doesn't really feel as though things have actually gotten started in this new year. Wonder what that will take?

Yuletide

The children are nestled all snug in their beds. Jim is nestled all snug on the couch. Sugarplums are all consumed, stockings emptied, carols sung. It was a beautiful Christmas. One which I will describe to you after a brief trip back in time to last Saturday night, when Jim's sister and brother-in-law arrived from Ontario for a four day visit.

Or should I say, a four day eating tour of the Northwest. I am not sure why, when company comes, we feel obligated to eat like every meal is our last, but if you're feeling underweight, start making your plans to visit. We hit the schmancy brunch buffet, our friends' house for fake Christmas feasting, an Indonesian place, dinner out at a restaurant (grown-up restaurant!), dim sum, and hot pot. By the end of their visit they were begging for vegetables.

Jim hatched a scheme whereby instead of dropping our company at the bus station for their trip to Vancouver, we would rent a minivan and just drop them at Vancouver itself. So we got a hotel reservation and had a quick trip to the... I don't know what Vancouver's city nickname is. The awesome, neato city? The trip up there was silly in the sense that we relied completely on technology to guide us (modern technology, not the less-recent advances like cartography and printing on paper), and technology was all, whatever, you guys, I had somewhere else to be, and I didn't actually SAY I was going to be available on Wednesday. There was some bumbling, in the automotive sense. But we got there, saw my in-laws' in-laws (who were genuinely charming), and made it to our hotel in time to wander around Robson Street on a bustling Saturday night.

We got tourist Thai takeout, which wasn't bad, and ate in our hotel. The girls think every hotel is a combination of the Taj Mahal and Never-Never-Land. Naomi was excited about "breakfast service," which sounds even more snooty than room service, somehow. We spent the morning (post "breakfast service") in the super deluxe pool and hot tub. Now I am feeling sad, and missing that hot tub. Sigh. On the way back to the States, we made a way too quick stop at Granville Island to see if things were still hopping at the public market. Answer: yes!

Christmas Eve, I am sorry to say, there was some shopping. Not too much, and mostly groceries, but sorry, and thank you, retail workers. In the evening, we went to the children's service at church, which featured not only a living nativity, but also Muriel's first ever choir performance. I am happy to report that my stage mother routine was limited to instructing her not to suck her finger or pick her nose while on stage. And she nailed it! Singing good and loud, knowing all the words, no unfortunate actions with hands or dress. At one point two of her little choir mates were showing us their naked torsos. Fortunately Muriel was not influenced by them.

When we got home the girls put out Santa's cookies and went to sleep with remarkable alacrity, considering the number of church cookies apiece. Jim made us a late Christmas Eve dinner, non traditional in the sense that it was a seared ahi tuna salad, but traditional in the sense that it was super tasty and lit by tea lights in jars with glue-brushed wrapping paper on them. Blah blah, stockings, blah blah cinnamon roll dough, blah blah up way too late. But then... a Christmas miracle! Both girls slept in till SEVEN THIRTY! Sleep, the greatest gift of all!

We made it back to Christmas- I knew we could do it. Santa brought the girls what they asked for in their super cute letters to him- "glass" slippers, aka, those plastic sandals with the princesses on them. They are horrific (slippery, clonky, foot-deforming, and to me somehow emblematic of early female oppression training), and I am so grateful that Santa is around to bring presents that I could never in good conscience purchase and gift. I was gratified that they liked their cheesy bathrobes, a gift that cost me a good deal of time and frustration, because really, shouldn't there be a zillion kids' bathrobes around for Christmas purchase? Eh? I got Jim some practical garment-category gifts, some nougat (his kryptonite), and a carom board. He got me a beautiful necklace and an e-reader which I am not going to name because the last time I put the name of a gadget in here, I got a weird spam comment right away. If you are curious, it is the e-reader that is associated with a retailer that goes by the name of a big river somewhere that has lots of feisty crocs and whatnot. And so far I LOVE it. The e-reader, not the river. I am afraid of crocs.

Anyway, hours and hours of sweet harmonious play (the sort that makes you feel like having kids wasn't a bad idea, as it turns out), lasagna for Christmas dinner, more cookies, another screening of "White Christmas," nice long chapter of Naomi's new chapter book, second Knuffle Bunny book (which Muriel got for Christmas), everyone asleep, dishwasher humming, third cup of tea, and here we are. I feel like the happiest, luckiest person around tonight. Merry Christmas, Friends!

You Know, Stuff

Let me begin by saying that I had a birthday a couple of weeks ago, and on the official card as well as several auxiliary cards, drawings, and signs, Naomi saw fit to refer to me by my first name. Happy Birthday, Jenny! Love, Naomi and Muriel. Hmm.

And speaking of stories that are now way out of date, I bring you, the Turkey Twilight Zone. Long ago now, Naomi's teacher sent home a big black and white turkey drawing with the words "Family Turkey Project" on it. The idea was that we were supposed to work together to decorate it and bring it in by a certain date. Naturally, on the night before the certain date, I scrambled around to put my oh-so-creative plans into action. I had them tear up red, brown, and yellow construction paper, I had them glue craft feathers on the tail. We found a googly eye to affix to the turkey head. We added a necklace of macaroni.

Naomi returned the turkey, and the next day we noticed that the turkeys were decorating the windows of the office. Neat! I went to find our masterpiece (which was totally janky compared to some of the super fly turkeys the other K families cooked up), and I found it. But then I wondered, who is this Timothy, and why is his name on our turkey?!


Oh wait, here's our turkey.


Holy crap! Timothy's mom, call me!! We are separated at birth! That, or you need to get those cameras you hid in our house out RIGHT NOW!

What other out of date stories can I come up with? In early November, I took Muriel to visit our friends in Chicago. So fun! It was great to remember what having a littler little was all about, as well as to spend some QT with Muriel. She did great on the trip, except for some inexplicable and very heartbreaking homesickness when we first got there. I believe, too, that it was good for her to be the big kid for a while. And really, it was wonderful to see our friends. Yea, friends!

We went to the Oregon coast for Thanksgiving. The Oregon coast is totally rad, I recommend it to anyone who likes stuff that is scenic and amazing. We even saw the Goonies house, whilst in Astoria, and it was, well, a bit anticlimactic. But yeah, the rest of it was pretty fantastic.

My parents came at the beginning of this month, and I over-scheduled the poor things. There was lots and lots of rushing from this awesome holiday experience to that. Sorry, Parents! But the kids were genuinely delighted to have their grandparents around, as was I.

OK, let's see. That big project that kicked me around from the end of summer and all through fall is FINISHED! At least, finished in the first part, version one is released kind of way. Woo to the hoo. Jim has now taken over as the harried, overworked one, but it's all good, because he is a. employed, b. working at a company that is on the upswing, and c. challenged like never before. Naomi is working hard at her job, which is being in Kindergarten, and Muriel is a productive citizen of preschool, like always.

Oh, Christmas Open House! These are the before pictures. No afters.







Yes, this is how they dressed for the party.

I am excited, enthused, delighted, gleeful, and jolly at the approach of Christmas. Jim's sister and brother-in-law are coming this weekend, and we can't wait to see them. Things, people, are good. Happy Holidays to everyone. Now I have to go find a replacement for the NY Jets Mr. Potatohead that I bought for my nephew but that is, alas, after all, out of stock. Wish me luck!

Nothing to See Here

So many things have happened, and I should be writing about them and uploading the appropriate photos, but it just feels like there are so many other important things to attend to these days. I gotta build up the muscle again, I think. In the mean time, here's a snap from our trip to the Seattle waterfront over the weekend. My parents came to visit, and I woefully overscheduled their dear selves, though they got through almost all of it without complaining. In this shot, just before or after a carousel ride, but definitely before a harbor cruise and locks tour on a big boat, Naomi and Muriel get to know the carved denizens of one of Seattle's tourist traps.


Anyway, back at it soon. So glad December is here, but wishing there was some way to prevent the short little days from whizzing by so fast. Any suggestions?

Got One for Abby

If you are anything like me and indulge in the occasional read of an advice column or twelve, you have probably encountered the Dear Abby letter trope in which someone receives a message from a dearly departed in the form of a lucky penny find. I am not sure why some choose loose change as their communication medium over radio static or curtain rustling. Here's what I do know: When I was a newbie technical writer at my very first job-job, I attended one of the monthly birthday cake gatherings in the hall between the cubes. Someone brought up the nifty, novel new quarters for each state. The first one had just come out. Because my social shtick is very often Seinfeld-esque, my input was something along the lines of, "What is the deal with Caesar Rodney? Does ANYBODY know who that is? Is that really the best you could do, Delaware?!"

I am older now, so I would probably not be so willing to mock a state for knowing its own history better than I do. But my enthusiastic snarkiness (a word that perhaps had not yet even been coined) caught the attention of one Liz, a supervisor on another project. She told me later that it cracked her up how worked up I got that there was going to be someone on a coin I had never heard of. Nice of her not to say that it cracked her up that I had never heard of Caesar Rodney. She became my first real mentor, an attendee (if not instigator) of some of the best happy hours of my life, and a very good friend.

Liz's body was something of a traitor to her, and for the last few years that we were in Minnesota, she wasn't working anymore. This was a loss to the technology industry, she was good at her job, smart and funny, and (just for the record) extremely well-dressed. When we moved away, I had less and less contact with Liz, getting too wrapped up in my own busy life. It had been, regrettably, a very long time since I spoke with her when her husband contacted me on Friday to let me know that she had passed away. I am so sad that she is gone, and mad at myself for not letting her know more often in the last few years what she meant to me.

This morning we were actually running a bit early for church, for ONCE, and I had time to remember to dig out some change for the girls to bring in for Jalineda, a Hatian girl that our Sunday school kids sponsor. Naomi said she wanted to look for the really shiny coins she had found the other day to bring along, but not wanting to squander our rare time edge, I told her I'd find the shiniest quarters from our change jar. The first one I pulled out shone like it was brand new. Delaware, the First State! Caesar himself riding across the front.

First Ever Post from Device that Shall Remain Nameless

Jim is always encouraging me to use the "Device" and claiming that it is really easy to type on, etc. I have been, and remain skeptical. But here Muriel and I are in Chicago, with the "Device," so I'm taking a crack at it. I am enjoying the auto-correct...

We are visiting our old and dear friends, and a new friend, their one-year-old daughter. What fun to be away from home, see friends, and remember the toddler years. Muriel is mostly doing well, except for a brief and glorious fit earlier today, and a really very poignant and early bout of homesickness when we first arrived. I am doing a poor job of taking photos, and not doing so greet on this so-called keyboard, so let's just take this back up on the west coast. Good night, Chicago!

Originally, I named the device, but it has already resulted in my first ever spam-ish comment, so, forget it. It's a four-letter-word, rhymes with shmyshmad.

Harvest Dance

I just now heard myself telling Naomi that Gramma would cry if she could hear the way Naomi talks back to me. My closer: "Don't make Gramma cry!" And, good night.

Just got back from the Harvest Dance, which is what passes for a school Halloween party these days. On the one hand, where did you go, bobbing for apples? Where are all the fun games and costume contests and cupcakes with big globby marshmallow ghosts on top? On the other hand, pizza, Costco chocolate chip cookies, 400 glow necklaces, and a dark gym full of super happy elementary school students dressed like Clone Wars characters and fairies jumping up and down to the Black Eyed Peas makes for a pretty agreeable evening, as it turns out.

Light at the end of the work tunnel, I bask in your glow. In November, NaNoWriMo. Think I can do it? More on that soon. Happy Halloween, friends!

10 20 2010

So many neat dates this month. What with the ten and the twenty ten? Anyway. I am entirely habituated to working on my computer until 11:00 p.m., and it is so weird and exhilarating to be on the play computer at 8:30. Woot! Although yes, obviously, in my new found free time, I should be doing something that doesn't involve a computer. Agreed. Bye.

But wait, I have to write a post! So let's see. In September, I went to Portland for a girls' weekend that involved dancing (Club Fez!), art fairing, running, pupusa eating, karaoke singing (Whatta Man debut!), and napping. Maybe some whiskey sours. Also in September, Jim heard that he would be getting an interview at his contract place. Then, sometime in the beginning of October, he had the interview, and got the job. Yea!

Also in October, we went to Boise for a long weekend. While there, I ran my first half marathon. Woo! I have been training for a while. It was easy enough for about the first eight miles. After that, not so easy. 11 and 12, really not so good. But then it was over! The kids had a good time pal-ing around with my friend's little boys.

This week I am in the midst of what feels like fifty school-related things. Cookie dough sale fundraisers, "spirit wear" sale, signing up for Kindergarten teacher conferences, signing up for preschool teacher conferences, visiting the book fair, figuring out whether or not we actually returned "The Dinosaur that Lost Its Roar" to the library. Yikes.

But! There is a light at the end of the work tunnel, and I am so relieved. I can actually do housework, and daydream about the holidays, and watch old Futuramas with Jim. Ah, the life I left behind. So, maybe see you again sometime, you guys!

One Month Later

How can a month have gone by since my last post? This raises the question of whether, in the name of habit-building and accountability and whatnot, I should just post what we had for dinner or breakfast every day, or whether I should just take a picture of the same thing and post that. Man oh man have I been slacking.

I have an excuse, but it's a super boring one. I have been working like mad. Jim got a job, also, which means that the awesome epicurious dinners have come to an abrupt halt. Crap! I mean, Yea! His job is rather far away. So there is a new routine being built, of who drops off whom and when, and who picks up whom (and then the other whom) and when, and what will be prepared for dinner, except, oh, I needed to buy that before I prepare it, I guess, and then who will WORK TILL ELEVEN EVERY NIGHT?! Why yes, I am a mite touchy on the overwork issue.

But of course many great things have been happening. Naomi loves Kindergarten. I already blew my capslock allotment on that last paragraph, or of course I would have typed that Naomi LOVES kindergarten. She really does. She is so into it I feel like I am doing her a favor every day, taking her there. And this delights me up and down, except for occasionally when I am tired and hungry at the end of the day and she is there, digging in the dirt with some fifth grader at the after school program, and begging me if she can just stay a little longer. Ug.

We have already been to one ice cream social, which I bet you a hundred dollars both girls will remember for the rest of their lives, just because it was crowded with jovial people and there was ice cream with m-n-ms to put on top and they ran around willy nilly with their friends and hunted around for teachers Naomi knew so they could all shout hello. Tomorrow I'm going to a principal's coffee, whatever that means, and I've also received an email about getting involved with the planning and execution of the Harvest Dance (which I have to admit sounds pretty rad). So yeah, basically our whole family has joined a cult. Your tax dollars at work!

The weather has turned, from...enh... to eh. I mean, now it's gray and rainy. We're all reconciled. Whatever. There's something comforting about knowing that all hope is lost. In the weather sense. We are coming up on the fifth anniversary of our move here, so that has got to have some bearing on my reaction. Another sunny day or two (or, let's be honest, 14) might result in us getting another three or four cherry tomatoes from our sad little garden. I don't have high hopes, let's just say. And again, that's OK.

Speaking of the back yard, as we kind of were, there is a rodent living in our shed. This goes beyond blech and straight to horror movie, because I have seen the thing and though it is not quite as large as those creatures in the fire swamp, it is not exactly going to be winning the lead in any adorable children's books. Jim tried a medieval skewering trap of some kind, which the beast laughed right off. Last night our vanquisher set up something like a tray of super power sticky stuff, the idea being that the rodent gets trapped in the stuff. So large is our rodent, though, that even though he is stuck in the sticky stuff, the tray of sticky stuff is not where Jim left it. So, ugh ugh ugh, the thing is clomping around the shed with one giant foot. I have no idea what is going to happen next with the rodent. It can't leave through its little shed exit with that big thing on its foot, right? Pretty soon, someone is going to have to go in there and have a giant rodent showdown. Volunteers?

Muriel is finally getting the hang of preschool. She has really bumped the coloring and letter tracing up a notch. Seriously, though, she is always on her game in the cuteness department. She has a trademark wave she gives to anyone who makes eye contact. I don't think it's fair to all of you to go on and on about how cute Muriel is. Just take my word for it.

So tired. Not working any more tonight... But some day soon we will have some kind of family experience, and photograph it, and things will get back to normal with this so called blog. Till then, good night friends!

The Whole Story

OK, so last week my friend is in town with her kids. Even though her kids are small, and ours are small, we decide to do the duck boat tour. For the uninitiated, this is a giant open amphibious vehicle that is driven around town, and then into water, just because it can. So we ride through Seattle with the predictably brisk air in our faces, listening to our actually quite hilarious captain/driver crack jokes and play song clips. At the end, she throws us one last quip, holding up a pair of staggeringly large tighty whities, and claiming that some passenger on the last tour left them behind.

This moment, perhaps not surprisingly, stays with Naomi. She has forgotten nearly the entire tour, so focused is she on the giant underpants. She asks me, whose underpants are they? Why did they leave them on the duck boat? So, in the first of many foolish decisions, I explain that they are novelty underpants, and that they come from a joke store. She asks what other kinds of things you can buy at a joke store, and all I can come up with (foolish decision the second) to tell her about are whoopie cushions and fake dog poop. Oh, and squirting flowers.

Somehow we get around to making plans to actually GO to the joke store, Saturday after nap. So the whole morning, they are scheming about what they are going to buy. Naomi chuckles to herself all day at the prospect of tricking someone into sitting on the whoopie cushion. Muriel walks around the house chanting "FAKE DOG POOP. FAKE DOG POOP." They both take a surprisingly good nap.

We head to the joke store, which is of course far, far away in Seattle. We peruse. We shop around. We see a lot of wares. But we have a very difficult time finding the specific things we are looking for. So Jim, all forbearance, asks the store employees for help. This store, by the way, is something of a Seattle institution. So the employees, not surprisingly, are of the painfully hip hipster variety. One of them points out the selection of tricks offering ($10.99!!!) that includes a fake ice cube with a bug in it, and super hot cinnamon gum (?), as well as the coveted whoopie cushion. He informs us that they do not carry fake dog poop. Similarly, they do not sell squirting flowers.

Naomi finds a squirting camera, and for Muriel, it's a magic wand not quite dissimilar enough from one we have at home. Whatever. We go to the counter. I give it one last try with the clerk, explaining that my three-year-old has been chanting "fake dog poop" all day, and she says, are you ready for this? "I have never even heard of fake dog poop."

To which I say, venerated Seattle hipster joke shop, that if your shop is so clogged up with bacon band-aids and "terrified pickle catapults" and "emergency yodel buttons" that you can't stock a squirting flower, and if your brand of jokey irony is so far evolved that you cannot appreciate such classics as fake dog poop and whoopie cushions, well then, shame on you. Shame!

On the plus side, the shop is right up the street from the most famous hipster ice cream joint in Seattle, which we hadn't yet tried. And in between was a really cute, tiny, extremely delicious sushi place. All's well that ends well.


Before.
After. Squirty camera and wand in possession.
And earlier, the whole gang. Love having visitors!

Slacker

OK, it's not that nothing has been happening. Well, OK, nothing has been happening. It's been vaguely summery, we've had some regular times. School has been attended. Work has been attended to. Maybe that's it- I've been working a lot, it seems like. So there, that's my excuse, no posting because of all the darn work!

Jim, on quite the other hand, has been enjoying his free time in a way that is of course enviable, but also, pretty nice for the rest of us. By this I mean that he hunts around for a recipe in the afternoon, buys the appropriate groceries, and when I get home (late), there is a fabulous dinner waiting. Seriously, this guy. What a cook! He is also getting better and better at "Starcraft," or whatever that game is called. Woot!

Muriel is going through a period of bed invasion. This happens occasionally, and it doesn't last forever, and a few gentle kicks to the back of the head is a small price to pay for a happy child, right? Last Saturday morning, all of us were crammed in together, and Muriel was expressing her discomfort thusly: "I'm all bunched up with people!" Yep, that is what happens!

Naomi is newly entranced with the idea of summer camp, thanks to a visit to Camp Kookooskoos in The Trumpet of the Swan. She has set up their "cabin" in the living room, and has shifted her pretend play to include summer camp tableaux. The pretending part hasn't changed- she still says, Mommy, pretend I was at summer camp, and you were the director of the summer camp and I was a camper, and Muriel was my kitty who came along with me (Muriel: mew!), and it was time for bed, and you said, all campers, time for bed, and I took my kitty (Muriel: mew mew!) and we got into the bunk.... and so on.

Next week I am taking OFF from work and I am so HAPPY that I am capslocking it up in here. My friend is coming from Boise with her two sons, and there will be much cavorting and sunscreen and water play and so forth. Pictures from that, to be sure. In the meantime, this is all I've got- the kids out with Dad on a stay-home-from-school-just-for-fun day. Looks like it worked!

Hooray for Vacay!

Vacation! Vacation! On Friday early, we took the interstate to the ferry and the ferry to Vancouver Island, home of Butchart Gardens and lovely Victoria. Because we are sentimental and predictable, we booked a room at the same hotel we stayed in last time, which was as delightfully shabby and relaxing as ever (though they no longer offered room service at breakfast- BOO!).

Here's what I liked about the vacation: Being away from work, computer, television, and home, in a lovely city, with breathtakingly beautiful weather, and frequent consumption of ice cream.

Here's what the kids liked about vacation: Being in the hotel, and running around on grass. I don't know how long this period is going to last, anybody else know? But in the meantime, I can plan all our future trips around having a hotel room and being within walking distance of a big grass field.

The first field was at Butchart Gardens, a place bursting with plants and flowers and tourists. The Victoria Symphony was rehearsing at a little bandshell near the carousel, and the lawn in front of the bandshell was lush and irresistible. Cue somersaulters! At the first field, we talked about cartwheels, and, after a super masterful demonstration by yours truly (ahem), Naomi took it upon herself to acquire and practice this most vital skill. So upon arriving in Victoria, and strolling postprandially down to the second field, in front of the Legislative Assembly of British Columbia, Naomi's vacation destiny was sealed. We spent most of Saturday fielding demands to return to the cartwheel place. Also known as the somersault place. Also known as a perfectly grand place to lie in lush grass and be appreciative of beautiful surroundings, Canada in general, fantastic, amazing weather, and loopy, carefree children.

For the record, we also went to Miniature World, which I thought the kids would be more into- I think they are too miniature yet to fully appreciate the miniature splendor of the place. We wandered the streets of Victoria. We stumbled into a kids' concert put on by four members of the aforementioned Victoria Symphony, which involved Aesop's fables acted out and set to music. When they called for the kids to come up to the front, Naomi hung back, and Muriel jumped right up and found a seat with the crowd. We had some dim sum at a restaurant in Chinatown where all the cart pushers felt compelled to compliment Jim on his beautiful girls and then tell him their own life stories. All in Chinese, of course. Oh, and every time one would come by and chuck Muriel on the cheek, she would say, loudly, "Oh, she is such a nice lady!" Hee.

The Natural History Museum was great, once again. They have a new room called the Ocean Station, which features a fantastically realized steam-punk decor theme that would shame the set designers from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. The woolly mammoth was impressive (though less scary since they discontinued the thunder and lightning effects). The First Nation exhibits were beautiful. The old-timey townscape was the most fun for the girls, I think. As with Miniature World, I think the museum is still just a bit over their heads. I am going to keep bringing them back, though, because when they do finally arrive the right age for this museum, it is going to be crazy museum bliss. And with a big green field right across the street!

And now, the photographic evidence...


Don't worry, everyone got their cone back. Sitting in the shade on the edge of the Italian Garden and eating the most indescribably delicious gelato brought me instantly and magically in touch with the feeling that I was really, truly on vacation. Ahhhh.

Check out the size of Naomi's mango sorbetto. We gave her a little help with that, loving parents that we are.



By far my favorite busker, and the source for Naomi's quote of the trip. She asked if it was the real Darth Vader, and of course because we are those irritating parents, we asked her if she thought it was. She said, "No. Darth Vader is the worst bad guy in Star Wars. If he was the real Darth Vader, he would have been a lot more bad to us." Fair enough.

These two got along pretty well on this trip:







To be fair, I must also include Muriel's quote of the trip, uttered upon smelling a flower at the elaborate gardens: "Oh, it smells just like ketchup! My very favorite thing!" Hmmm.

Vacation! I miss you already!