First up, Dara on the denim blanket thrown across the hearth rug. Cozy cabin and happy dog.
And then, well, if this doesn't sum up my middle child, I don't know what does. Call it Maeve's ode to Johnny Cash.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Two more photos from the weekend
First up, Dara on the denim blanket thrown across the hearth rug. Cozy cabin and happy dog.
And then, well, if this doesn't sum up my middle child, I don't know what does. Call it Maeve's ode to Johnny Cash.
What We've Been Eating
I belong to a CSA--a community supported agriculture group, called Fair Shares. My goal this year (April to March) is to not throw away any food. Of course, I have exceptions, and they are leftovers. If that bowl of mashed potatoes in the back of the fridge just cannot be downed before it turns, so be it. But no produce is going in the trash, no bread is getting moldy before we have the chance to eat it.
I've already failed once, with a half bag of lettuce that we took with us this weekend but did not finish--it didn't come home with us. It was a sad bag of lettuce. But other than that, I've done fine (I don't count cutting off the leaves of radishes and tossing them in the compost, that sort of stuff).
So what have we been eating? Greens. Lots and lots of greens. Right now, at the beginning of the season, green salads still sound good. I don't feel like I have to get creative with caraway seed dressings and avocados and so forth. And my kids have actually decided that sauteed greens aren't horrifying. They don't go down like a bowl of pudding, but they manage.
I saute them in olive oil with garlic. Sometimes onion. I don't wilt them to a green slime--they still look like leaves. Mustard, Swiss chard, kale.
I took the Swiss chard stems and blanched them one night, and then sauteed them with garlic and mushrooms. Made a light cream sauce with more garlic and served with pasta.
Ann has suggested shredding the kale into ribbons, sauteing it, again, and tossing with pasta. That's next week's plan.
Beef stew meat went in the crock pot with some leftover carrots and celery, a few bottoms of green onions, and some turnips we brought home from the weekend. Cloves and bay and oregano. That was tonight.
Last night was sausage links, eggs, and pancakes from the pancake mix we get from them--plus cut up fruit on the side so we didn't die from cholesterol and carbs.
White beans and sausage. Salad, salad, salad. Sliced strawberries and cream. Hey, that's a haiku.
I've already failed once, with a half bag of lettuce that we took with us this weekend but did not finish--it didn't come home with us. It was a sad bag of lettuce. But other than that, I've done fine (I don't count cutting off the leaves of radishes and tossing them in the compost, that sort of stuff).
So what have we been eating? Greens. Lots and lots of greens. Right now, at the beginning of the season, green salads still sound good. I don't feel like I have to get creative with caraway seed dressings and avocados and so forth. And my kids have actually decided that sauteed greens aren't horrifying. They don't go down like a bowl of pudding, but they manage.
I saute them in olive oil with garlic. Sometimes onion. I don't wilt them to a green slime--they still look like leaves. Mustard, Swiss chard, kale.
I took the Swiss chard stems and blanched them one night, and then sauteed them with garlic and mushrooms. Made a light cream sauce with more garlic and served with pasta.
Ann has suggested shredding the kale into ribbons, sauteing it, again, and tossing with pasta. That's next week's plan.
Beef stew meat went in the crock pot with some leftover carrots and celery, a few bottoms of green onions, and some turnips we brought home from the weekend. Cloves and bay and oregano. That was tonight.
Last night was sausage links, eggs, and pancakes from the pancake mix we get from them--plus cut up fruit on the side so we didn't die from cholesterol and carbs.
White beans and sausage. Salad, salad, salad. Sliced strawberries and cream. Hey, that's a haiku.
What Blogs I Usually Read and Why Part Two
So, other blogs in the US that I read (except for blogs focused on religion, I've split my roll up geographically).
Clutch Cargo Lips is Cedar Waxwing (I know a couple of birds who have blogs...). I found her originally in the x365 blog community. x365 was started by this guy who turned 40 and decided to write 40 words about a person he knew. Every day for a year. Well, this was right up my alley. So I did it, too--except 32 words since that year I turned 32. We've all moved on, except Mrs. Slocombe (more on that next week). But here's one of the folks who read mine and vice versa, in another blog incarnation. Mom of two teenagers, a few years ahead of me, basically. Easy to read and sometimes, often, thought provoking.
Route 153 is Indigo Bunting's current blog. Another x365er, she was the first person to comment on my x365 blog. So I've been reading her ever since. She's in Vermont, which is like this mythical place to me, with a husband and a social crowd in and around her small town that have become a sort of periodic novel for me. I don't even care if any of them are real. I just like to read. And wish I lived there.
K & the 3 Ds is written in Wisconsin by a mom of two marathon runner school volunteer extraordinaire. I found her through Lisa (from part one a few days back). She cares more than I do and doesn't take the easy way out. She makes me want to make mittens for kids who need them.
My Green Vermont (again, Vermont) is Lali's blog. I have figured out that she knows Indigo Bunting in real life...I followed her to her blog from IB's comments. She writes about farm and goats and chickens and spinach and yoga and spirituality and growing up around the world and so forth.
Nutsy Fagan was big competition on ~Easy's music quizzes. And then I followed her link to see who she was (since I thought she was a guy, to begin with...). She's on the east coast with sailboats and PTA and sometimes funny funny things to say.
Rossakatum Branch is named for a creek near Joya's place, also east coast, but this time farm. I found her via Indigo Bunting, again, right as she found a group of stray cats and took them in. I was hooked. She sometimes writes about everyday stuff like cats and gardens but sometimes it's amazingly profound or just plain fun.
Texan Mama found me--she's originally from St. Louis although obviously not there at the moment. I know Texas and she knows St. Louis and each gets a glimpse, I suppose, of the other. The first thing I read by her was a comparison between children and white carpeting. Religion, children, annoying people--she's probably technically a Mommy blogger, but then, I guess I am, too.
I realized just now that there's a group of blogs I don't keep on my blogroll because they're not about the people who write them. I guess that will be later--things I go to read because they are hilarious or bizarre or interesting, but not because the people who write them have become semi-fictional characters for me....
More later. Dinner time.
Clutch Cargo Lips is Cedar Waxwing (I know a couple of birds who have blogs...). I found her originally in the x365 blog community. x365 was started by this guy who turned 40 and decided to write 40 words about a person he knew. Every day for a year. Well, this was right up my alley. So I did it, too--except 32 words since that year I turned 32. We've all moved on, except Mrs. Slocombe (more on that next week). But here's one of the folks who read mine and vice versa, in another blog incarnation. Mom of two teenagers, a few years ahead of me, basically. Easy to read and sometimes, often, thought provoking.
Route 153 is Indigo Bunting's current blog. Another x365er, she was the first person to comment on my x365 blog. So I've been reading her ever since. She's in Vermont, which is like this mythical place to me, with a husband and a social crowd in and around her small town that have become a sort of periodic novel for me. I don't even care if any of them are real. I just like to read. And wish I lived there.
K & the 3 Ds is written in Wisconsin by a mom of two marathon runner school volunteer extraordinaire. I found her through Lisa (from part one a few days back). She cares more than I do and doesn't take the easy way out. She makes me want to make mittens for kids who need them.
My Green Vermont (again, Vermont) is Lali's blog. I have figured out that she knows Indigo Bunting in real life...I followed her to her blog from IB's comments. She writes about farm and goats and chickens and spinach and yoga and spirituality and growing up around the world and so forth.
Nutsy Fagan was big competition on ~Easy's music quizzes. And then I followed her link to see who she was (since I thought she was a guy, to begin with...). She's on the east coast with sailboats and PTA and sometimes funny funny things to say.
Rossakatum Branch is named for a creek near Joya's place, also east coast, but this time farm. I found her via Indigo Bunting, again, right as she found a group of stray cats and took them in. I was hooked. She sometimes writes about everyday stuff like cats and gardens but sometimes it's amazingly profound or just plain fun.
Texan Mama found me--she's originally from St. Louis although obviously not there at the moment. I know Texas and she knows St. Louis and each gets a glimpse, I suppose, of the other. The first thing I read by her was a comparison between children and white carpeting. Religion, children, annoying people--she's probably technically a Mommy blogger, but then, I guess I am, too.
I realized just now that there's a group of blogs I don't keep on my blogroll because they're not about the people who write them. I guess that will be later--things I go to read because they are hilarious or bizarre or interesting, but not because the people who write them have become semi-fictional characters for me....
More later. Dinner time.
Rock Eddy, Memorial Day 2009
We've been going to Rock Eddy Bluff since October 2000. That summer, I'd just miscarried and needed a distraction of some kind. I was online (duh) and started looking for cabins. I was thinking Mike and I could just get away and try to regain some focus. Instead, we went with 3 other friends, my parents, and sisters. And it was wonderful. I remember the last day, tentatively bringing up the idea of coming again sometime, and Mary gave me the "you are too dumb to live" look that lots of people seem to give me, actually. Of course we were coming back.
We went back that next February, and then the next May. I was large and pregnant with Sophia by then, and that was the year we canoed in the flooded Gasconade and almost didn't make it back where we belonged. I swore I'd never canoe again (until I did, for the last time, at least for now...). We were back in October 2001, or maybe November. And then fell into a rhythm of Memorial Day weekends and trying to make it out there at least one other time. 2006 was the first year we went only once--the trip to California served as the other family vacation, I guess. We've made it a couple of Novembers since then, or March, but Memorial Day is our standard.
Each year, each visit, it's a little different and a little better but over all, it's the same. This year I didn't try to impress my kids as much as I have in the past. They'd either get it or they wouldn't. They got it. We spent Saturday and Sunday at the creek soaking up nature with nobody else around. Nobody. Saturday night, Maloki made fondue and Sunday night he made a braised beef with noodles. It was so wonderful to have someone else cook the big meals. The rest of the day, I can handle lunchmeat sandwiches and biscuits for breakfast, but after a day hiking and hanging outside, I just don't want to cook. And so I didn't this year (most years we split up meals more equitably, but this year he volunteered).
Saw a northern water snake. The same three butterflies again and again. Eastern Kingbird for the first time--I was happy to add him to the list. From the family of "tyrant flycatchers," whatever that implies. Taught Sophia some tree identification skills from the Stikky Tree book I have--wonderful for utter beginners. Maeve and Sophia got to walk down to the Coreys on their own for the first time this year--it's a jaunt across their land, on a gravel driveway. But they are out of sight...
No horseshoes this year, and only one campfire for some reason. I was really tired, and slept when I might usually have sat out by the fire. I gotta get this thyroid fixed. But anyway, Leo did well even though he was in disposables and I forgot the diaper ointment--one day home back in cloth and he wasn't fire engine red anymore. We have great stuff (Dr. Smith's). He put on quite a show for his public Friday night when we visited our hosts and talked about breastfeeding and blogs and weaving and heroin (seriously).
It's always too short in the end, and the drive home this year was excruciating--lots of traffic on I-44 for reasons we couldn't determine (the slow downs, I mean--lots of traffic is obvious on a holiday weekend). We've reserved the cabin for next year, and I was thinking about it...
Leo will be walking. Sophia will be 8 and Maeve will be finished with preschool forever. I don't know who will go with us--I assume Mary and Maloki always will, but perhaps Mary's roommate Heidi will come back, or Rob and Janet have expressed mild interest (the house has three bedrooms, and when it gets to be more than that, we spill over into a 5th wheel trailer down the way). My sisters, maybe. Or Mike's brothers. I don't know. Will Dara make it to another trip (she's 12 now...)? What will I be doing with my time? Most importantly, will I dare to get into a canoe?
I'm looking forward to it.
We went back that next February, and then the next May. I was large and pregnant with Sophia by then, and that was the year we canoed in the flooded Gasconade and almost didn't make it back where we belonged. I swore I'd never canoe again (until I did, for the last time, at least for now...). We were back in October 2001, or maybe November. And then fell into a rhythm of Memorial Day weekends and trying to make it out there at least one other time. 2006 was the first year we went only once--the trip to California served as the other family vacation, I guess. We've made it a couple of Novembers since then, or March, but Memorial Day is our standard.
Each year, each visit, it's a little different and a little better but over all, it's the same. This year I didn't try to impress my kids as much as I have in the past. They'd either get it or they wouldn't. They got it. We spent Saturday and Sunday at the creek soaking up nature with nobody else around. Nobody. Saturday night, Maloki made fondue and Sunday night he made a braised beef with noodles. It was so wonderful to have someone else cook the big meals. The rest of the day, I can handle lunchmeat sandwiches and biscuits for breakfast, but after a day hiking and hanging outside, I just don't want to cook. And so I didn't this year (most years we split up meals more equitably, but this year he volunteered).
Saw a northern water snake. The same three butterflies again and again. Eastern Kingbird for the first time--I was happy to add him to the list. From the family of "tyrant flycatchers," whatever that implies. Taught Sophia some tree identification skills from the Stikky Tree book I have--wonderful for utter beginners. Maeve and Sophia got to walk down to the Coreys on their own for the first time this year--it's a jaunt across their land, on a gravel driveway. But they are out of sight...
No horseshoes this year, and only one campfire for some reason. I was really tired, and slept when I might usually have sat out by the fire. I gotta get this thyroid fixed. But anyway, Leo did well even though he was in disposables and I forgot the diaper ointment--one day home back in cloth and he wasn't fire engine red anymore. We have great stuff (Dr. Smith's). He put on quite a show for his public Friday night when we visited our hosts and talked about breastfeeding and blogs and weaving and heroin (seriously).
It's always too short in the end, and the drive home this year was excruciating--lots of traffic on I-44 for reasons we couldn't determine (the slow downs, I mean--lots of traffic is obvious on a holiday weekend). We've reserved the cabin for next year, and I was thinking about it...
Leo will be walking. Sophia will be 8 and Maeve will be finished with preschool forever. I don't know who will go with us--I assume Mary and Maloki always will, but perhaps Mary's roommate Heidi will come back, or Rob and Janet have expressed mild interest (the house has three bedrooms, and when it gets to be more than that, we spill over into a 5th wheel trailer down the way). My sisters, maybe. Or Mike's brothers. I don't know. Will Dara make it to another trip (she's 12 now...)? What will I be doing with my time? Most importantly, will I dare to get into a canoe?
I'm looking forward to it.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Clifty Creek in 5 photos
Clifty Creek is the destination of choice for the under 7 crowd that wants to swim but has parents who are wary of the river (depth plus swiftness plus motorboats). 3 feet deep at the most, clear and cold to the bottom, fish everywhere. The best kind of fresh water, in my opinion.
And yes, that would be me as I learned how to skip rocks finally. Got one of them to go 5 skips. Go me.
Leo was not impressed with the creek, however.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Ten On Tuesday: Ten Celebrities I'm Tired Of
Ok, that's harder than it sounds. I am so out of touch. So.
1. Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus
2. John Travolta
3. OJ Simpson
4. Britney Spears
5. Mel Gibson (a special irritation with this one)
6. ancient rockers (Bob Dylan, Mick Jagger, that Beatles guy)
7. Rod Blagojevich
8. Paris Hilton (Duh)
9. anyone who has ever been on American Idol
10. anyone with a stupid press nickname (J-Lo, A-Rod, Sean P Diddy Puff Daddy Combs)
1. Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus
2. John Travolta
3. OJ Simpson
4. Britney Spears
5. Mel Gibson (a special irritation with this one)
6. ancient rockers (Bob Dylan, Mick Jagger, that Beatles guy)
7. Rod Blagojevich
8. Paris Hilton (Duh)
9. anyone who has ever been on American Idol
10. anyone with a stupid press nickname (J-Lo, A-Rod, Sean P Diddy Puff Daddy Combs)
What Blogs I Usually Read and Why Part One
Over conversation with Tom Corey this weekend, he asked me how I found blogs I like to read. And I couldn't explain it without my computer screen in front of me. So I thought I'd take them a few at a time and explain how I found them, what they are, and why I like them. Today, the St. Louis and nearby blogs. In alphabetical order.
Annie Knits. I know Annie in real life--she was the one who told me I should start a blog. She writes about knitting, obviously, but also about her family, a dash of politics and religion, and stuff that makes me smile or think or both. I read her because she's my friend, but also because we experience some of the same things (parish, neighborhood, CSA, etc) but she often has a slightly different point of view.
Bad Mansard ran across my blog (somehow) a few months ago (or more, hey, I was having a baby). Curious about who she was, I clicked on her profile and was taken to her blog, which is exactly what it says it is--a collection of bad mansard roofs, most here in St. Louis (she is a few neighborhoods away), with her comments peppered with amusing French phrases. It is fun. And there's occasional mom stuff and other non-mansard posts. Just enough to give a glimpse of life there.
Banana Tuesdays is my sister Colleen's blog. I do not know why she calls it that. Her subtitle is "vintage poetry bicycles gardening cats." I'm not sure if vintage applies across the board or is an adjective that has been turned into a collective noun. She writes about her life in Columbia, Missouri, with her boyfriend Tim and their cats and her job at a vintage clothing store and bike trips and so forth. And poetry.
Brokedown Palace is ~Easy's blog. I started reading it when he posted a comment on something here or on Most Nigh--he knows Lisa (below) in real life. He doesn't post like he used to; World of Warcraft has taken over his computer time. I read his blog because of two things--every other Monday he used to post music lyrics quizzes that I was actually quite good at, and he wrote about life in south St. Louis as well--from the point of view of a peace officer (well, not quite, but sort of) with two older daughters and some dogs and a barbecue pit.
Clearview is Lisa. We both were commenting on Urban Review and she came to look at my Most nigh blog. Did a little of that herself and hooked me on her take on life as a mom of two living in the central west end. And on the way she can tell a story that makes you take that sharp intake of air at the last line. She is the first, and perhaps only, person I met through blogging and then met in person (in that order). She also has another blog called Letters in my Soup which is an alphabet blog like my defunct Alphabridge. And for some reason she likes the number 47. But I'm not sure why...
Ephemeral Chaos is Deborah, a friend of Annie's (above). She's a knitter and Civil War reenactor extraordinaire. I love reading about subcultures, but more than that, her stories of life as an adjunct faculty member are so, so true. I met her many times before I wandered over to her blog and now I don't know why I was resistant. She has interesting things to say.
Everyday Unitarian, aka Plaid Shoes, writes about Unitarian things. I think--I don't know Unitarian stuff, but from what I gather, it sounds a bit like good parish life. She's also a local, although I think county as opposed to city, another mom. Another who posted comments on my blogs and then I got curious about. She is a way better gardener than I am. That's about all I can say thus far; it's only been a few months of reading. But I like it.
Farmgirl is Susan, writing from a Missouri farm. She chucked it all out in California and came out here to live on the land. And she lives well. She has sheep, and dogs, and donkeys, and cats, oh, there are cats. Chickens and lots and lots of gardening and recipes and it's good to go and look...and then come back to my city where there are no ticks or creepy spiders or copperheads.
Happy Notions is Kaylen. Kaylen is Mike's brother Pete's girlfriend. She's awesome. She writes mostly about stuff (as opposed to life, if that makes sense). She does crafty things and reviews books and movies and music. She also writes about her relationship with Pete, which just amuses me. In a good way. Pete is 13 years younger than Mike. It feels like we've been standing still since I was 25...and now everybody seems to be catching up (Bevin, Colleen, his brothers). Kaylen reminds me of myself sometimes. Except she has more to say (can you believe that?).
The Hired Man is Tom Corey, who runs Rock Eddy Bluff Farm out in Dixon, Missouri. Rock Eddy is our little second home, at least in our heads. Hearts. Tom and Kathy have somehow, without even noticing it happening, become characters in our lives. Finding his blog was like curling up in front of the wood stove with a cat on my lap kind of stuff. He's just started out but, for me, it comes with layers and layers of visits to their Gasconade River bluff home and cabins. And everything that's ever happened there and whoa, has it really be 9 years? Talk about standing still.
Running on Empty is my mom, Cheryl. She doesn't blog often but she does comment here. She writes little essays about things ranging from metacognition to depression to her granddaughters. I sometimes have a hard time remembering that she's not writing just to me...and then I stop trying to find the double meaning in it all and I do much better. She started blogging a little while back and doesn't post very often. I do read her when she does.
Urban Review is one of the few blogs I read that are bigger than the person who writes them. Steve covers St. Louis from a planner's point of view. Bad planning. Good planning. Architecture. Downtown. What we need to do better. Green space and green living. And life after a stroke, which was about a year back for him. Steve writes about my block sometimes, even. Although I hope less now than before.
There are a few other St. Louisans--I just started venturing into a blog called 1017 that I found via Kaylen. She gardens and takes cool photos. I'll have to see what else she does. Make No Small Plans is Elliot's blog--another friend in real life. He's not very regular about posting, but when he does, it's about planning as well. My favorite posts are about fantasy public transit maps (I think they're proposals that never came to fruition). Sacred Stones, Sacred Stories is a blog based at my monastery in Clyde, Missouri, as they begin to rehab their main house. Not often, once again (they are a semi-cloistered group of semi-contemplatives, after all), but when they do, it's good. All in a Row is one of Maeve's friend's moms from preschool. I don't know why I don't have her on the blogroll there on the side. I should. I will remedy that.
There are others--Elizabeth across the street I read on occasion, although hers are password protected and therefore there's not much point to link (Elizabeth, let me know if that's not so). Cakes is someone I know in real life and would like to maintain her anonymity (we found each other accidentally). Sometimes I look at the Ecology of Absence, but not enough to really contain here...I'm sure over time this group will grow more than the others (this geographical group, I mean). With a blog name like "south city musings" I come up on google searches. I know there are other south cities. But add St. Louis or my kids' school or my parish and I keep showing up. And I like to read folks who read me.
Annie Knits. I know Annie in real life--she was the one who told me I should start a blog. She writes about knitting, obviously, but also about her family, a dash of politics and religion, and stuff that makes me smile or think or both. I read her because she's my friend, but also because we experience some of the same things (parish, neighborhood, CSA, etc) but she often has a slightly different point of view.
Bad Mansard ran across my blog (somehow) a few months ago (or more, hey, I was having a baby). Curious about who she was, I clicked on her profile and was taken to her blog, which is exactly what it says it is--a collection of bad mansard roofs, most here in St. Louis (she is a few neighborhoods away), with her comments peppered with amusing French phrases. It is fun. And there's occasional mom stuff and other non-mansard posts. Just enough to give a glimpse of life there.
Banana Tuesdays is my sister Colleen's blog. I do not know why she calls it that. Her subtitle is "vintage poetry bicycles gardening cats." I'm not sure if vintage applies across the board or is an adjective that has been turned into a collective noun. She writes about her life in Columbia, Missouri, with her boyfriend Tim and their cats and her job at a vintage clothing store and bike trips and so forth. And poetry.
Brokedown Palace is ~Easy's blog. I started reading it when he posted a comment on something here or on Most Nigh--he knows Lisa (below) in real life. He doesn't post like he used to; World of Warcraft has taken over his computer time. I read his blog because of two things--every other Monday he used to post music lyrics quizzes that I was actually quite good at, and he wrote about life in south St. Louis as well--from the point of view of a peace officer (well, not quite, but sort of) with two older daughters and some dogs and a barbecue pit.
Clearview is Lisa. We both were commenting on Urban Review and she came to look at my Most nigh blog. Did a little of that herself and hooked me on her take on life as a mom of two living in the central west end. And on the way she can tell a story that makes you take that sharp intake of air at the last line. She is the first, and perhaps only, person I met through blogging and then met in person (in that order). She also has another blog called Letters in my Soup which is an alphabet blog like my defunct Alphabridge. And for some reason she likes the number 47. But I'm not sure why...
Ephemeral Chaos is Deborah, a friend of Annie's (above). She's a knitter and Civil War reenactor extraordinaire. I love reading about subcultures, but more than that, her stories of life as an adjunct faculty member are so, so true. I met her many times before I wandered over to her blog and now I don't know why I was resistant. She has interesting things to say.
Everyday Unitarian, aka Plaid Shoes, writes about Unitarian things. I think--I don't know Unitarian stuff, but from what I gather, it sounds a bit like good parish life. She's also a local, although I think county as opposed to city, another mom. Another who posted comments on my blogs and then I got curious about. She is a way better gardener than I am. That's about all I can say thus far; it's only been a few months of reading. But I like it.
Farmgirl is Susan, writing from a Missouri farm. She chucked it all out in California and came out here to live on the land. And she lives well. She has sheep, and dogs, and donkeys, and cats, oh, there are cats. Chickens and lots and lots of gardening and recipes and it's good to go and look...and then come back to my city where there are no ticks or creepy spiders or copperheads.
Happy Notions is Kaylen. Kaylen is Mike's brother Pete's girlfriend. She's awesome. She writes mostly about stuff (as opposed to life, if that makes sense). She does crafty things and reviews books and movies and music. She also writes about her relationship with Pete, which just amuses me. In a good way. Pete is 13 years younger than Mike. It feels like we've been standing still since I was 25...and now everybody seems to be catching up (Bevin, Colleen, his brothers). Kaylen reminds me of myself sometimes. Except she has more to say (can you believe that?).
The Hired Man is Tom Corey, who runs Rock Eddy Bluff Farm out in Dixon, Missouri. Rock Eddy is our little second home, at least in our heads. Hearts. Tom and Kathy have somehow, without even noticing it happening, become characters in our lives. Finding his blog was like curling up in front of the wood stove with a cat on my lap kind of stuff. He's just started out but, for me, it comes with layers and layers of visits to their Gasconade River bluff home and cabins. And everything that's ever happened there and whoa, has it really be 9 years? Talk about standing still.
Running on Empty is my mom, Cheryl. She doesn't blog often but she does comment here. She writes little essays about things ranging from metacognition to depression to her granddaughters. I sometimes have a hard time remembering that she's not writing just to me...and then I stop trying to find the double meaning in it all and I do much better. She started blogging a little while back and doesn't post very often. I do read her when she does.
Urban Review is one of the few blogs I read that are bigger than the person who writes them. Steve covers St. Louis from a planner's point of view. Bad planning. Good planning. Architecture. Downtown. What we need to do better. Green space and green living. And life after a stroke, which was about a year back for him. Steve writes about my block sometimes, even. Although I hope less now than before.
There are a few other St. Louisans--I just started venturing into a blog called 1017 that I found via Kaylen. She gardens and takes cool photos. I'll have to see what else she does. Make No Small Plans is Elliot's blog--another friend in real life. He's not very regular about posting, but when he does, it's about planning as well. My favorite posts are about fantasy public transit maps (I think they're proposals that never came to fruition). Sacred Stones, Sacred Stories is a blog based at my monastery in Clyde, Missouri, as they begin to rehab their main house. Not often, once again (they are a semi-cloistered group of semi-contemplatives, after all), but when they do, it's good. All in a Row is one of Maeve's friend's moms from preschool. I don't know why I don't have her on the blogroll there on the side. I should. I will remedy that.
There are others--Elizabeth across the street I read on occasion, although hers are password protected and therefore there's not much point to link (Elizabeth, let me know if that's not so). Cakes is someone I know in real life and would like to maintain her anonymity (we found each other accidentally). Sometimes I look at the Ecology of Absence, but not enough to really contain here...I'm sure over time this group will grow more than the others (this geographical group, I mean). With a blog name like "south city musings" I come up on google searches. I know there are other south cities. But add St. Louis or my kids' school or my parish and I keep showing up. And I like to read folks who read me.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Weekend
Weekend was spent at Rock Eddy. Things coming soon:
*Rundown of the weekend
*An explanation of a few of the blogs I read for the proprietor (from a conversation we had about this)
*Umm, well, maybe that's all that's coming soon. But for now, shower and laundry and perhaps a late afternoon nap await me. There is something wonderful to be said for coming home to an 80% clean house.
*Rundown of the weekend
*An explanation of a few of the blogs I read for the proprietor (from a conversation we had about this)
*Umm, well, maybe that's all that's coming soon. But for now, shower and laundry and perhaps a late afternoon nap await me. There is something wonderful to be said for coming home to an 80% clean house.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Now it is warm
The room where the computer lives has a ceiling fan and a window that opens. Alas, the ceiling fan is on the fritz--the light turns on but the fan does not move anymore. Mike is going to look at it sometime soon. The window does open, though, and both bedrooms behind me have fans going--two ceiling fans and a box fan set in the jeffersonian door. It's 84, partly cloudy sky, a teensy breeze, and not very humid. Beautiful. Except in this room. This room is warm.
Dara is lying on the tile in front of the fireplace downstairs: the coolest spot in the house, save the basement. I refuse to put the AC on until June 1 (although this year, with the baptism party, I will have to renegotiate that--probably turn the AC on on the 30th and then back off again the evening of the 31st for a few days, at least). We are usually the last family to turn it on and the last family to turn on the heat come the fall. But while we can get by with sweaters and the occasional electric blanket turned on to warm the bed before we get there, there's not much you can do when it's warm. Especially when it's warm and muggy, which is coming soon enough.
But I like the warm. I don't like oppressive heat, but I like this well enough. Sometimes I wish the world wasn't filled with AC, because I think we'd be more open to slow movement in the summer. Naps on the porch. Tent camping in the backyard. But my crabby kids would be so much crabbier. Yikes.
In the end, we did have a spring, as Mike noted last night. In mid-April, we weren't sure if it would come--not that winter would continue unabated, but that it would do what sometimes St. Louis does--one week frost is on the ground in the morning, and the next week you're mowing the grass. Winter to summer in 5 days' time. But it's been a nice little spring this year.
Dara is lying on the tile in front of the fireplace downstairs: the coolest spot in the house, save the basement. I refuse to put the AC on until June 1 (although this year, with the baptism party, I will have to renegotiate that--probably turn the AC on on the 30th and then back off again the evening of the 31st for a few days, at least). We are usually the last family to turn it on and the last family to turn on the heat come the fall. But while we can get by with sweaters and the occasional electric blanket turned on to warm the bed before we get there, there's not much you can do when it's warm. Especially when it's warm and muggy, which is coming soon enough.
But I like the warm. I don't like oppressive heat, but I like this well enough. Sometimes I wish the world wasn't filled with AC, because I think we'd be more open to slow movement in the summer. Naps on the porch. Tent camping in the backyard. But my crabby kids would be so much crabbier. Yikes.
In the end, we did have a spring, as Mike noted last night. In mid-April, we weren't sure if it would come--not that winter would continue unabated, but that it would do what sometimes St. Louis does--one week frost is on the ground in the morning, and the next week you're mowing the grass. Winter to summer in 5 days' time. But it's been a nice little spring this year.
Senior Project Meme
Ms. Mazzola (State of Denmark) is doing an informal research project on blogging along with the AP English class she teaches. Anyone who wants to participate may do so by completing her list of questions and leaving a link in the comments to this post.
1. How long have you been blogging?
Spring of 2006, so, three years
2. Why did you start blogging?
A friend told me I should; I was invited to join a group blog which wound up not panning out.
3. What have you found to be the benefits of blogging?
*I get thoughts down on paper (or on computer screen) and my head is clearer
*It sometimes keeps me in check when the Crazies start invading my head...
*I've met some very interesting people I never would have had the chance to otherwise
*It keeps grandmothers and other family members updated on my kids' lives a bit
*It can sometimes be a creative writing outlet, especially on my other blogs
4. How many times a week do you post an entry?
I aim for 365+ posts a year on this blog, so I suppose that would be 7. But it waxes and wanes.
5. How many different blogs do you read on a regular basis?
47. That's how many are on my bloglines feed and I don't read any others. But a few of them are currently dormant; I don't delete them, though, because I'm hoping they might return.
6. Do you comment on other people’s blogs?
Yes
7. Do you keep track of how many visitors you have? If so, are you satisfied with your numbers?
I did on this blog, for a while. When I got above about 80 a day, on average, I stopped looking. On my other blogs, I don't keep track of how many, but I do keep track of where from sometimes...
8. Do you ever regret a post that you wrote?
I wrote a post about being a liberal Catholic one time that created a FLAME war in my comment approval page. I took it down to avoid having to engage 40 strangers who hated me based simply on my disapproval of my bishop. It wasn't the focus of the blog and it wasn't important enough to keep up.
9. Do you think your audience has a true sense of who you are based on your blog?
I think so. I am here what I am in real life, except I try to let other people talk. I'm a better writer than I am in person. On my other blogs, especially my 365s, I think I'm even more the "real me".
10. Do you blog under your real name?
Yes, I do. I know many people don't, and sometimes I wish I'd gone the way of a blogfriend named Indigo Bunting and taken the name Vesper Sparrow. I also sometimes show up as Hickory, which is my cat's name. But for the most part, all the cover up would be futile because I'd let it leak.
11. Are there topics that you would never blog about?
Yes. I try to avoid using the blog as a place to vent about my husband. I don't have much to vent about, and when I do, it's like an alcohol fire. Flash and no heat. But written down for the world to see? Don't think so. Some people (other peoples' kids, my pastor, some neighbors) get pseudonyms. And as my audience has grown to include people I know "in real life" I find myself censoring myself a bit more. But it's not bad.
12. What is the theme/topic of your blog?
This blog is family, neighborhood, parish, school, and my life. Sometimes some quilting or knitting. My other blogs are different--one is a daily snippet of conversation, one was an essay or other entry for every letter of the alphabet, and two others were daily blogs about people I knew or songs that were important to me. And I have a new blog that's mostly about living/growing up in St. Louis in a more general sense.
13. Do you have more than one blog? If so, why?
Yes--all told, I have 6, but only three are currently active. This one has been around from the beginning. The three defunct blogs were creative writing projects that are now complete; the other two that are active are also that sort of thing. I tend to believe I have two separate audiences, with very little crossover. At least that's what the comments tell me.
1. How long have you been blogging?
Spring of 2006, so, three years
2. Why did you start blogging?
A friend told me I should; I was invited to join a group blog which wound up not panning out.
3. What have you found to be the benefits of blogging?
*I get thoughts down on paper (or on computer screen) and my head is clearer
*It sometimes keeps me in check when the Crazies start invading my head...
*I've met some very interesting people I never would have had the chance to otherwise
*It keeps grandmothers and other family members updated on my kids' lives a bit
*It can sometimes be a creative writing outlet, especially on my other blogs
4. How many times a week do you post an entry?
I aim for 365+ posts a year on this blog, so I suppose that would be 7. But it waxes and wanes.
5. How many different blogs do you read on a regular basis?
47. That's how many are on my bloglines feed and I don't read any others. But a few of them are currently dormant; I don't delete them, though, because I'm hoping they might return.
6. Do you comment on other people’s blogs?
Yes
7. Do you keep track of how many visitors you have? If so, are you satisfied with your numbers?
I did on this blog, for a while. When I got above about 80 a day, on average, I stopped looking. On my other blogs, I don't keep track of how many, but I do keep track of where from sometimes...
8. Do you ever regret a post that you wrote?
I wrote a post about being a liberal Catholic one time that created a FLAME war in my comment approval page. I took it down to avoid having to engage 40 strangers who hated me based simply on my disapproval of my bishop. It wasn't the focus of the blog and it wasn't important enough to keep up.
9. Do you think your audience has a true sense of who you are based on your blog?
I think so. I am here what I am in real life, except I try to let other people talk. I'm a better writer than I am in person. On my other blogs, especially my 365s, I think I'm even more the "real me".
10. Do you blog under your real name?
Yes, I do. I know many people don't, and sometimes I wish I'd gone the way of a blogfriend named Indigo Bunting and taken the name Vesper Sparrow. I also sometimes show up as Hickory, which is my cat's name. But for the most part, all the cover up would be futile because I'd let it leak.
11. Are there topics that you would never blog about?
Yes. I try to avoid using the blog as a place to vent about my husband. I don't have much to vent about, and when I do, it's like an alcohol fire. Flash and no heat. But written down for the world to see? Don't think so. Some people (other peoples' kids, my pastor, some neighbors) get pseudonyms. And as my audience has grown to include people I know "in real life" I find myself censoring myself a bit more. But it's not bad.
12. What is the theme/topic of your blog?
This blog is family, neighborhood, parish, school, and my life. Sometimes some quilting or knitting. My other blogs are different--one is a daily snippet of conversation, one was an essay or other entry for every letter of the alphabet, and two others were daily blogs about people I knew or songs that were important to me. And I have a new blog that's mostly about living/growing up in St. Louis in a more general sense.
13. Do you have more than one blog? If so, why?
Yes--all told, I have 6, but only three are currently active. This one has been around from the beginning. The three defunct blogs were creative writing projects that are now complete; the other two that are active are also that sort of thing. I tend to believe I have two separate audiences, with very little crossover. At least that's what the comments tell me.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Leo Update
So Leo is shrinking. Not really. He's just slipping down the growth chart. At birth he was in the 90th percentile. At two months, the 75th. Now at 4 months he's at the 50th. The doctor tried to pretend she wasn't concerned while at the same time being concerned. A lot of shoulder shrugging and "we'll see how he is next time." She said he's definitely not a failure-to-thrive baby--his height and weight are proportionate and he's happy healthy chubby lovely. But for some reason, this isn't enough. It puzzles me. Why isn't it enough to be meeting milestones and being obviously well fed and cared for and so forth? Could it be that he was just huge at birth and now he's leveling out?
My friend Cathy allayed my fears of pituitary deficiencies by pointing out that different doctors have different bugaboos. My doctor has been lovely and normal and non-hysterical so far--we changed to this office about two years ago when our doctor moved to Arnold, which was just too far to consider. So I've never had a newborn. Maybe this is just her thing and this is where I'll have to put my foot down. I'm fine with that. I just would rather not have to.
But I can't make Leo any bigger than he is. I can make him FATTER but not longer (when do they stop being "long" and become "tall"?). I know different tricks to help with simple weight gain, things I've shared with moms during my tenure as a LLL leader. But his diaper count is fine; he has subcutaneous fat and sleeps an adequate--but not too much--amount. He nurses 8-10 times a day. He falls off or falls asleep at the end of nursing. I just don't think I can fix this. So maybe he won't be 6 feet tall. His dad isn't.
And to top it off, he has an ear infection. No outward symptoms. Different ear from last time. Dang it. With this, the doctor was truly nonchalant. "Oh, I guess he's just an ear infection baby. You're doing all the right things--nursing, no smoking--and he's not in daycare. Genetics."
Damned genetics. So I'm on acidophilus and he's on acidophilus and we have watermelon flavored pink medicine in the fridge. This is getting old. He's becoming a hard baby--not his personality (Sophia was a hard baby that way)--but in all these other things. Clamping when he nurses; ear infections; growth chart slides. I started to get really focused on Me! Me! Me! as I left the doctor, and then over the next six hours was told stories like this:
*"Well, we didn't get home from the ER until 3 this morning." (My mom; heart palpitations but it's ok)
*"His classmate's father hung himself last week in the front hall after his wife left." (My neighbor told me this one)
*There was a triple shooting on the corner next to his house" (someone else on Worship Commission talking about her neighborhood)
*"They're moving to Hawaii" (this doesn't sound like a bad thing, but it would be if I was the one doing it)
And so I got over myself. So often, I probably think this song is about me...that it's nice to get kicked in the tuckus and be reminded that oh, how lovely my life really is.
Leo isn't happy about the vaccinations he received today, but otherwise? I'm betting he levels off at 50% and hangs there a while. Either way, I'm thinking he's fine.
My friend Cathy allayed my fears of pituitary deficiencies by pointing out that different doctors have different bugaboos. My doctor has been lovely and normal and non-hysterical so far--we changed to this office about two years ago when our doctor moved to Arnold, which was just too far to consider. So I've never had a newborn. Maybe this is just her thing and this is where I'll have to put my foot down. I'm fine with that. I just would rather not have to.
But I can't make Leo any bigger than he is. I can make him FATTER but not longer (when do they stop being "long" and become "tall"?). I know different tricks to help with simple weight gain, things I've shared with moms during my tenure as a LLL leader. But his diaper count is fine; he has subcutaneous fat and sleeps an adequate--but not too much--amount. He nurses 8-10 times a day. He falls off or falls asleep at the end of nursing. I just don't think I can fix this. So maybe he won't be 6 feet tall. His dad isn't.
And to top it off, he has an ear infection. No outward symptoms. Different ear from last time. Dang it. With this, the doctor was truly nonchalant. "Oh, I guess he's just an ear infection baby. You're doing all the right things--nursing, no smoking--and he's not in daycare. Genetics."
Damned genetics. So I'm on acidophilus and he's on acidophilus and we have watermelon flavored pink medicine in the fridge. This is getting old. He's becoming a hard baby--not his personality (Sophia was a hard baby that way)--but in all these other things. Clamping when he nurses; ear infections; growth chart slides. I started to get really focused on Me! Me! Me! as I left the doctor, and then over the next six hours was told stories like this:
*"Well, we didn't get home from the ER until 3 this morning." (My mom; heart palpitations but it's ok)
*"His classmate's father hung himself last week in the front hall after his wife left." (My neighbor told me this one)
*There was a triple shooting on the corner next to his house" (someone else on Worship Commission talking about her neighborhood)
*"They're moving to Hawaii" (this doesn't sound like a bad thing, but it would be if I was the one doing it)
And so I got over myself. So often, I probably think this song is about me...that it's nice to get kicked in the tuckus and be reminded that oh, how lovely my life really is.
Leo isn't happy about the vaccinations he received today, but otherwise? I'm betting he levels off at 50% and hangs there a while. Either way, I'm thinking he's fine.
Chin Chopper
There's a nursery rhyme I know, that I learned the first year I taught. Back then, it was thought that "children these days" had lost the connection to nursery rhymes and childhood songs, and so the reading program included a set of tapes with such things set to music. Very child friendly, not schmaltzy at all, really. Single adult voices, simple instruments (mostly guitar), and catchy tunes. No badly harmonized children's choirs or Barney-esque style singing. "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" was on that set; "Z was a Zebra" and "Zum Gali Gali" were as well. They were organized in a loose way to teach phonics sounds (those last two were obviously involved with Z). And there was one, I think it was there for the ch sound, called "Here Sits The Lord Mayor."
Here sits the lord mayorI used to think it might be a "This little piggy" style of nursery rhyme, somehow counting out toes like that one. But a brief internet search (as always) shows that I am only partially correct. It's a face tapping song. Lord mayor is forehead, his men are the eyes. Cock and hen are cheekbones, and little chickens start at the tip of the nose and then touch the mouth. And then chin chopper is the chin, of course. Except chin chopper? What kind of a thing is that, anyway?
Here sit his men
Here sits the cock
And here sits the hen
Here sit the little chickens
Here they run in
Chin chopper chin chopper chin chopper chin
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Meme nite: Worth the effort (last one tonight)
The need to type is just about done. From Daydreaming on Paper:
List ten things you have found to be worth the effort.
In no particular order...
1. Pregnancy and childbirth
2. homemade mint ice cream
3. the walk to Andrew Molera State Beach
4. Camping with kids
5. teaching friends to play mah jongg
6. Being a brownie leader
7. living in the city
8. raising tomatoes, jalapenos, basil, and garlic
9. paper pieced quilting
10. cable knitting
Except for #3, I've done or will be doing each of these this year. Most of them more than once (#1 of course was only that one time in January...).
List ten things you have found to be worth the effort.
In no particular order...
1. Pregnancy and childbirth
2. homemade mint ice cream
3. the walk to Andrew Molera State Beach
4. Camping with kids
5. teaching friends to play mah jongg
6. Being a brownie leader
7. living in the city
8. raising tomatoes, jalapenos, basil, and garlic
9. paper pieced quilting
10. cable knitting
Except for #3, I've done or will be doing each of these this year. Most of them more than once (#1 of course was only that one time in January...).
Meme Nite: Bridgett vs. Mike Travel (he wins)
Bridgett has been to these states (27):
Mike has been to these states (30):
Mike has been to these states (30):
Meme Nite: hair
If you could have somebody else's hair for a day, whose would it be? Why? What do you like about that person's hair?
Easy. I would have Bevin's hair. Bevin's hair is Superman black which goes awesomely well with her alabaster skin--it probably would not be the color for me. But I still covet it. Bevin's hair is thick but manageable. Completely manageable. She's like a shampoo commercial come to life. She can wear it short or long. Bangs or no bangs. Things fall where they should, there are no unruly curls or waves that cannot be tamed. But it is not ruler-straight, either. It cascades from her scalp. I do not believe she gets split ends. Each individual hair is healthy and vibrant. It catches the light and shines. It is supermodel hair and I think my daughter Maeve has inherited at least some of its tendencies (except in a NATURALLY STREAKING honey brown, why, God, why?). Thou shalt not covet thy sister's hair. But I do.
Easy. I would have Bevin's hair. Bevin's hair is Superman black which goes awesomely well with her alabaster skin--it probably would not be the color for me. But I still covet it. Bevin's hair is thick but manageable. Completely manageable. She's like a shampoo commercial come to life. She can wear it short or long. Bangs or no bangs. Things fall where they should, there are no unruly curls or waves that cannot be tamed. But it is not ruler-straight, either. It cascades from her scalp. I do not believe she gets split ends. Each individual hair is healthy and vibrant. It catches the light and shines. It is supermodel hair and I think my daughter Maeve has inherited at least some of its tendencies (except in a NATURALLY STREAKING honey brown, why, God, why?). Thou shalt not covet thy sister's hair. But I do.
meme Nite: Plant List
List all the plants you have in your garden...
Euonymous
Vinca (two varieties)
Daffodils (four varieties)
iris (3 varieties)
flags (that's what my grandmother calls them)
fountain grass
Phlox
Black Oak
Scarlet Oak
Sweetgum
Maple (red-silver hybrid)
Silver maple (alas)
Sweetbay Magnolia
Dogwood (white flowers)
Stargazer lily
daylilies (at least 5 varieties)
crocus (three colors)
tulips (but not next year)
marigolds
zinnias
butterfly bush
spirea
rose (but soon no more)
live forevers (pink)
hosta (at least 4 varieties)
fern (not sure what kind)
those pink and white elephant ear looking things whose name escapes me
monkey grass (the real name, again, escapes me--this is my grandmother's name for it)
English ivy, unfortunately
pinks
black-eyed susans
blackberry
tomato (5 varieties)
sunflower (maybe, if the babies survive)
garlic
parsley
basil
jalapeno
lettuce
thyme
spearmint
some member of the squash family volunteering back by the compost heap
and the weeds: plantain, pokeweed, violet, wild strawberry, virginia creeper, boston ivy, tiger lilies, an elm tree I keep cutting off at the ground and I need to dig up, sweetgum volunteers, locust volunteers (the original tree has been dead 6 months), trumpet vine suckers, and at least 4 others I don't know the names of.
Euonymous
Vinca (two varieties)
Daffodils (four varieties)
iris (3 varieties)
flags (that's what my grandmother calls them)
fountain grass
Phlox
Black Oak
Scarlet Oak
Sweetgum
Maple (red-silver hybrid)
Silver maple (alas)
Sweetbay Magnolia
Dogwood (white flowers)
Stargazer lily
daylilies (at least 5 varieties)
crocus (three colors)
tulips (but not next year)
marigolds
zinnias
butterfly bush
spirea
rose (but soon no more)
live forevers (pink)
hosta (at least 4 varieties)
fern (not sure what kind)
those pink and white elephant ear looking things whose name escapes me
monkey grass (the real name, again, escapes me--this is my grandmother's name for it)
English ivy, unfortunately
pinks
black-eyed susans
blackberry
tomato (5 varieties)
sunflower (maybe, if the babies survive)
garlic
parsley
basil
jalapeno
lettuce
thyme
spearmint
some member of the squash family volunteering back by the compost heap
and the weeds: plantain, pokeweed, violet, wild strawberry, virginia creeper, boston ivy, tiger lilies, an elm tree I keep cutting off at the ground and I need to dig up, sweetgum volunteers, locust volunteers (the original tree has been dead 6 months), trumpet vine suckers, and at least 4 others I don't know the names of.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Meme Nite:Ten (how I love that number) noteworthy things
Another Meme: I'm to list ten noteworthy things (to me, anyway) from the past 24 hours.
In no particular order:
1. I caught Maeve in her first total complete get-out-of-trouble-or-die-trying lie
2. I planted my "silvery fir tree" tomato plants and the rest of the marigolds this afternoon
3. I emptied my gmail inbox
4. I finished ironing and sewing on Sophia's brownie patches and badges: she is all caught up now
5. I hung (and brought in) three loads of laundry outside on the line
6. I packed a box for Rachel and Marvin to be mailed tomorrow (I am terribly late in this)
7. I made a pesto pasta, bruschetta, salad, and strawberries for dinner
8. Leo didn't nap longer than 20 minutes at a time. This was noteworthy, but not good
9. I chose which oak tree gets to live in my front yard
10. The girls were terrified by a movie (rated G) we got from Netflix. We stopped it and put on Pixar Shorts instead
In no particular order:
1. I caught Maeve in her first total complete get-out-of-trouble-or-die-trying lie
2. I planted my "silvery fir tree" tomato plants and the rest of the marigolds this afternoon
3. I emptied my gmail inbox
4. I finished ironing and sewing on Sophia's brownie patches and badges: she is all caught up now
5. I hung (and brought in) three loads of laundry outside on the line
6. I packed a box for Rachel and Marvin to be mailed tomorrow (I am terribly late in this)
7. I made a pesto pasta, bruschetta, salad, and strawberries for dinner
8. Leo didn't nap longer than 20 minutes at a time. This was noteworthy, but not good
9. I chose which oak tree gets to live in my front yard
10. The girls were terrified by a movie (rated G) we got from Netflix. We stopped it and put on Pixar Shorts instead
Meme Nite: Ten on Tuesday
Ten On Tuesday, found by simply searching for blog memes on google. I'm anxious to type but I have nothing in my brain right now. It's a problem I have....anyway, found Ten On Tuesday and this week is "My Ten Favorite Cities". Easy enough. A List! Hooray! Keep in mind, though, that I've never left the US, I haven't traveled much as an adult, and the travel I do most is to places that are not cities. So it's pretty skewed, I freely admit. No Paris or DC, Toronto or New York here...
10. Galveston, TX: I have my reasons.
9. Columbia, MO: The first city I "learned." I biked all over this place with Marita in middle school and then every time I visited. And then, my sisters lived there.
8. Cleveland and Milwaukee (tie): I believe St. Louis, Cleveland, and Milwaukee should form an alliance of lower-tier midwestern cities and go beat up Chicago.
7. Lawrence, KS: I remember visiting there about 12 years ago and not being able to stop saying how cute it all was.
6. Chicago, IL: But only for the tourist reasons; it's really too big for my taste.
5. San Antonio, TX: It's the best part of Texas.
4. Big Sur, CA: It's not really a city. And that's part of the reason why I like it. It's really an area. With redwoods and beaches.
3. Oakhurst, CA: The people of Oakhurst once saved our lives. And made me stop feeling so darned superior to Californians. And to stop fearing them.
2. San Francisco, CA: Ah.
1. St. Louis, MO: “Home is the place where, when you have to go there,
They have to take you in.” It's my favorite place and I get to be here every day. Sure, it's tattered at the edges, rife with crime and chock full of annoying people, but I haven't found anywhere else that can call itself a city and isn't like that. It's just kind of in my blood to be here. The river is east, but I look west.
10. Galveston, TX: I have my reasons.
9. Columbia, MO: The first city I "learned." I biked all over this place with Marita in middle school and then every time I visited. And then, my sisters lived there.
8. Cleveland and Milwaukee (tie): I believe St. Louis, Cleveland, and Milwaukee should form an alliance of lower-tier midwestern cities and go beat up Chicago.
7. Lawrence, KS: I remember visiting there about 12 years ago and not being able to stop saying how cute it all was.
6. Chicago, IL: But only for the tourist reasons; it's really too big for my taste.
5. San Antonio, TX: It's the best part of Texas.
4. Big Sur, CA: It's not really a city. And that's part of the reason why I like it. It's really an area. With redwoods and beaches.
3. Oakhurst, CA: The people of Oakhurst once saved our lives. And made me stop feeling so darned superior to Californians. And to stop fearing them.
2. San Francisco, CA: Ah.
1. St. Louis, MO: “Home is the place where, when you have to go there,
They have to take you in.” It's my favorite place and I get to be here every day. Sure, it's tattered at the edges, rife with crime and chock full of annoying people, but I haven't found anywhere else that can call itself a city and isn't like that. It's just kind of in my blood to be here. The river is east, but I look west.
I'm telling the truth
Tonight, before bed, Maeve lied to me. Completely lied. No half-truth, no omission. Sat on my bed and used the words, "I'm telling the truth" when I asked her if she might be lying. Since I had Mike's and Sophia's eye-witness accounts (which matched) and Maeve's magical fantasy life to compare...
Maeve was already grounded today--from friends, she could still play in the backyard--for drawing on the coffee table with a pencil. And she's been really big into doing the opposite of what I've just told her to do. Completely opposite. "Don't close the van door" is met with her closing the van door. And then she tells me she forgot. Bullshit.
So she's grounded tomorrow. But more than that--I told her that children who lie need to prove they can be trusted again, and so she was going to have to stay with me all day. Which means no Justice League cartoons unless I happen to sit down in the living room....which doesn't happen often during the day, frankly. No playing in the backyard unless I'm out there doing work--and then, she'll probably have to help me anyway. No friends' houses, no going up to her room to play. If I check my email while nursing Leo to sleep, she sits in the library and waits. I plan to remind her often about why. And then at the end of the day, hopefully, we can start anew.
I think Leo was born 4 months ago and she became completely feral. It's going to take some doing to get this right again. Dang it.
Maeve was already grounded today--from friends, she could still play in the backyard--for drawing on the coffee table with a pencil. And she's been really big into doing the opposite of what I've just told her to do. Completely opposite. "Don't close the van door" is met with her closing the van door. And then she tells me she forgot. Bullshit.
So she's grounded tomorrow. But more than that--I told her that children who lie need to prove they can be trusted again, and so she was going to have to stay with me all day. Which means no Justice League cartoons unless I happen to sit down in the living room....which doesn't happen often during the day, frankly. No playing in the backyard unless I'm out there doing work--and then, she'll probably have to help me anyway. No friends' houses, no going up to her room to play. If I check my email while nursing Leo to sleep, she sits in the library and waits. I plan to remind her often about why. And then at the end of the day, hopefully, we can start anew.
I think Leo was born 4 months ago and she became completely feral. It's going to take some doing to get this right again. Dang it.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
At this moment
At this moment, Leo is lying next to me in his bed, dressed in a bunting my grandmother made for me when I was an infant.
Because at this moment, it's like 60 degrees in the house and it's going to be 45 before dawn.
At this moment, Mike is sore from taking a chainsaw to all the mulberry logs in the back and stacking them with Maloki on Saturday.
At this moment, Mike has started to snore, just a bit, not enough to make me crazy. I'm ignoring it. He's exhausted.
At this moment, the diapers are drying downstairs.
At this moment, Bleys, the orange cat, has perched on top of Mike and is kneading the blanket.
At this moment, there are ants in my kitchen sink. I just know this.
At this moment, Hickory, the black cat, has licked the top of Leo's head. I have swatted at her to stop.
At this moment, the girls are asleep in their beds upstairs.
At this moment, I'm thirsty from travel-induced dehydration but not sure if I want to get out of bed.
At this moment, the guest room is once again a mess--how did this happen when no one was home today I'm unclear about.
At this moment, each of my children is presenting a mystifying problem--not actively, of course, since they're all asleep, but in my head I'm working on how to solve them.
At this moment, a business statistics book sits in Leo's bed next to the black cat, taunting me. It's just so dull.
At this moment, I'm trying to stay in the moment and not do too much thinking, worrying, planning, or daydreaming. It's almost midnight and tomorrow is the second last week of school for Sophia and the last week for Maeve. It's standardized test week for Sophia as well. I'm going to go find that glass of water and then go to sleep. Good night.
Because at this moment, it's like 60 degrees in the house and it's going to be 45 before dawn.
At this moment, Mike is sore from taking a chainsaw to all the mulberry logs in the back and stacking them with Maloki on Saturday.
At this moment, Mike has started to snore, just a bit, not enough to make me crazy. I'm ignoring it. He's exhausted.
At this moment, the diapers are drying downstairs.
At this moment, Bleys, the orange cat, has perched on top of Mike and is kneading the blanket.
At this moment, there are ants in my kitchen sink. I just know this.
At this moment, Hickory, the black cat, has licked the top of Leo's head. I have swatted at her to stop.
At this moment, the girls are asleep in their beds upstairs.
At this moment, I'm thirsty from travel-induced dehydration but not sure if I want to get out of bed.
At this moment, the guest room is once again a mess--how did this happen when no one was home today I'm unclear about.
At this moment, each of my children is presenting a mystifying problem--not actively, of course, since they're all asleep, but in my head I'm working on how to solve them.
At this moment, a business statistics book sits in Leo's bed next to the black cat, taunting me. It's just so dull.
At this moment, I'm trying to stay in the moment and not do too much thinking, worrying, planning, or daydreaming. It's almost midnight and tomorrow is the second last week of school for Sophia and the last week for Maeve. It's standardized test week for Sophia as well. I'm going to go find that glass of water and then go to sleep. Good night.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Girl Scout Tie Dye Extravaganza
3:45 p.m. Monday, May 11. Arrive home from picking Sophia up at school. Go inside, hand Leo to Sophia. Make dye at the kitchen sink. Stain hands.
4:00. Call Mike. He's not on his way home yet. Several words are said and then retracted. Pack everything up.
4:20. Pack van. Give Leo to Mary because Maeve wants to go and I can't do both kids. Take Mary's daughter and another scout along with my two girls up to church.
4:24. Arrive at church. Pile out of van. Wend my way down to church basement. Let everyone in.
4:33. Pass out t-shirts. Girls fight over sizes. Everyone wants to be an extra small, except for the three 3rd graders who know for sure they're not extra smalls. Convince many many girls that the smalls and mediums really would be better. Get everyone seated. Pass around rubberbands.
4:37. Brief demonstration of how to make stripes or spiral designs. Everyone begins. Realize I haven't packed a sharpie marker to denote whose shirt is whose. More words said, under my breath in the Atrium as I hunt in vain for a sharpie. Knock over the model altar. Forget to pick it up.
4:40. Make soda ash bath in large plastic tub. Realize it's too heavy to carry and just put it up against the kitchen window (the drop-your-trays-off-here window to the cafeteria).
4:45. Everyone's shirt into the bath with initials on the collar in ink pen.
4:48. Snack arrives just in time. Snack gets passed around. We have 20 minutes to wait for the soaking. Plenty of time to snack and chat.
4:49. The last girl scout arrives. No words under my breath this time. I help her her tie up her shirt in about 1 minute and get it in the bath. Time slips away rapidly...
And then it's 5:05 and shirts are redistributed. I give a rapid demonstration of how to use little squeeze bottles of dye (like, don't shoot it at your neighbor).
5:17. The first girls are finished. Plastic bags are distributed.
5:22. The last girl is finished. Tables are wiped down and I start packing up my box. That's when the only problem really happens--girls had set down dye bottles on a white table and the stain remained even after I went after it with a bit of water and a paper towel. I'll have to try tomorrow with soap.
5:30. Everything is clean and packed away. "I didn't think we could do it," Mary Beth, one of the moms, says to me. "I'm impressed."
I am too.
And I'm free until August, people. Whee!
4:00. Call Mike. He's not on his way home yet. Several words are said and then retracted. Pack everything up.
4:20. Pack van. Give Leo to Mary because Maeve wants to go and I can't do both kids. Take Mary's daughter and another scout along with my two girls up to church.
4:24. Arrive at church. Pile out of van. Wend my way down to church basement. Let everyone in.
4:33. Pass out t-shirts. Girls fight over sizes. Everyone wants to be an extra small, except for the three 3rd graders who know for sure they're not extra smalls. Convince many many girls that the smalls and mediums really would be better. Get everyone seated. Pass around rubberbands.
4:37. Brief demonstration of how to make stripes or spiral designs. Everyone begins. Realize I haven't packed a sharpie marker to denote whose shirt is whose. More words said, under my breath in the Atrium as I hunt in vain for a sharpie. Knock over the model altar. Forget to pick it up.
4:40. Make soda ash bath in large plastic tub. Realize it's too heavy to carry and just put it up against the kitchen window (the drop-your-trays-off-here window to the cafeteria).
4:45. Everyone's shirt into the bath with initials on the collar in ink pen.
4:48. Snack arrives just in time. Snack gets passed around. We have 20 minutes to wait for the soaking. Plenty of time to snack and chat.
4:49. The last girl scout arrives. No words under my breath this time. I help her her tie up her shirt in about 1 minute and get it in the bath. Time slips away rapidly...
And then it's 5:05 and shirts are redistributed. I give a rapid demonstration of how to use little squeeze bottles of dye (like, don't shoot it at your neighbor).
5:17. The first girls are finished. Plastic bags are distributed.
5:22. The last girl is finished. Tables are wiped down and I start packing up my box. That's when the only problem really happens--girls had set down dye bottles on a white table and the stain remained even after I went after it with a bit of water and a paper towel. I'll have to try tomorrow with soap.
5:30. Everything is clean and packed away. "I didn't think we could do it," Mary Beth, one of the moms, says to me. "I'm impressed."
I am too.
And I'm free until August, people. Whee!
Monday, May 11, 2009
Monday Stuff
Took Maeve to the doctor today for wheezing and coughing and fever. Prednisone.
Caught my reflection in the window at Target (going for prednisone) and was dismayed. I have to get back on the bike. Like, this week, right away. Walking is not doing the trick. I'm calling the new doctor today, as well, because I fear the thyroid is crapping out further on me.
One of the cats decided the table in the living room was the new litter box. Got up on the table and took care of business. Mike admitted it had been awhile since he'd changed the litter boxes. I'm thinking it's the big orange cat--he doesn't take stress very well.
Planted the herbs and marigolds yesterday; got our room clean and on the list with the living room and dining room as off limits.
My brownie troop is tie dying today. I am out of my mind. I was going to have everyone's badges, too, ready to go for the end of the year, but no. I'll get them to folks next week instead.
Leo's eyes are starting to lighten a bit, more like Maeve's color, and I swear he's going to be at the strawberry end of strawberry blond.
Only took me 2 hours to fussily create the invitations to his baptism. Out they go today and tomorrow. I mean, really. Just pick a bible quote and type the dang thing up, right? Sigh.
So Maeve is resting on the couch, a full day of Justice League and Batman cartoons ahead of her (asthma made worse with activity and the doctor thought a day of rest would be the best medicine, well, that and albuterol and prednisone). I'm blaming Mike for this, by the way. Cat litter is his fault and her overactive immune system. Hives, eczema, asthma...all his fault. If their teeth rot out of their heads, that's my fault. Leo and Sophia's single floppy ears are my fault, too. But this nonsense is his.
But here we are, everybody's ok, I remembered to park on the opposite side of the street for street cleaning, and all will be well.
Caught my reflection in the window at Target (going for prednisone) and was dismayed. I have to get back on the bike. Like, this week, right away. Walking is not doing the trick. I'm calling the new doctor today, as well, because I fear the thyroid is crapping out further on me.
One of the cats decided the table in the living room was the new litter box. Got up on the table and took care of business. Mike admitted it had been awhile since he'd changed the litter boxes. I'm thinking it's the big orange cat--he doesn't take stress very well.
Planted the herbs and marigolds yesterday; got our room clean and on the list with the living room and dining room as off limits.
My brownie troop is tie dying today. I am out of my mind. I was going to have everyone's badges, too, ready to go for the end of the year, but no. I'll get them to folks next week instead.
Leo's eyes are starting to lighten a bit, more like Maeve's color, and I swear he's going to be at the strawberry end of strawberry blond.
Only took me 2 hours to fussily create the invitations to his baptism. Out they go today and tomorrow. I mean, really. Just pick a bible quote and type the dang thing up, right? Sigh.
So Maeve is resting on the couch, a full day of Justice League and Batman cartoons ahead of her (asthma made worse with activity and the doctor thought a day of rest would be the best medicine, well, that and albuterol and prednisone). I'm blaming Mike for this, by the way. Cat litter is his fault and her overactive immune system. Hives, eczema, asthma...all his fault. If their teeth rot out of their heads, that's my fault. Leo and Sophia's single floppy ears are my fault, too. But this nonsense is his.
But here we are, everybody's ok, I remembered to park on the opposite side of the street for street cleaning, and all will be well.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Murmuring again
I'm sinning again. Now, I guess I could start every blog entry that way. I'm big on the sins of omission, if I refer back to that Ogden Nash poem. Lots of those. And some commission, too, of course. But most of them trickle past me and I don't have a finely enough tuned ear to catch them all. Things I say or don't say or don't do or wish I didn't have to or whatever. I don't think I spend a lot of time in hugely grave sin (anymore?) but I woke up Friday morning in the realization that whoops, I've done it again.
Besides sharp-tongued nastiness and basically being a bit of a broad (as opposed to a shrinking violet), I am most prone to murmuring. Bitching. But not just complaining--because sometimes complaining is fruitful. I have been in situation (why do college classrooms keep coming to mind) where I've taken a stand against this or that. Complained. Pointed out an unfairness or suggested another way. That's not the same thing as murmuring. That is assertiveness and isn't, in and of itself, sinful. At least I don't think so.
But murmuring is dangerous and seductive. Complaining for the sake of it. But not to anyone with authority, but to other people in a community. It can bring down a community like those vines I keep thinking about. Pulling it down from the inside. Bitching about rules, about decisions, policies, interactions, etc., without going to the source and working it out is no way to fix a problem, and no good way to run one's life. It's a good way to get misinformation, to share out-of-context interactions, annoyances, and petty bickerings. And that's what I've realized I've been doing for a few weeks now. It's my kids' school and it's driving me crazy. In my head I keep trying to focus on the huge positives (their teachers and the curriculum) and downplay the negatives, but I keep running into folks I can kvetch with. It gets me nowhere, it solves nothing, and it spreads my own frustrations to others (while also saddling me with their frustrations, GREAT).
It is just like me to be this way. I know myself pretty well. I was fully prepared to homeschool my kids, knowing that I'm prone to this sort of difficulty being a part of something. Especially a school--I've taught too long to put up with very much from a school administration. My bullshit detector trips easily. My current situation is compounded by many factors, most of them involving my complete inability to mold myself in the image and likeness of folks in charge. I don't like the decisions they're making and the control they have over my life, and so I'm rebelling in the nastiest way I know how. By murmuring.
And it's time to stop. It's time to either shut up and suck it up; become the person they want me to be; or move along. And my idea of stability kind of prevents the last choice--it's a GOOD school with excellent teachers and my girls are thriving there. I am not going to be one of those school-hopping parents who spend a year here, a year there, leaving only because of petty reasons, not educational ones. I'm not going to make my kids suffer because things aren't run just-so according to my platonic ideals of what a school should be. There is no surface reason to leave this school. And I won't. So it's time to keep my stupid mouth shut.
Plus, sometimes bad policies backfire or resolve all by themselves. If stability has taught me nothing else, it's shown me that biding one's time patiently, stubbornly, often does the trick.
Besides sharp-tongued nastiness and basically being a bit of a broad (as opposed to a shrinking violet), I am most prone to murmuring. Bitching. But not just complaining--because sometimes complaining is fruitful. I have been in situation (why do college classrooms keep coming to mind) where I've taken a stand against this or that. Complained. Pointed out an unfairness or suggested another way. That's not the same thing as murmuring. That is assertiveness and isn't, in and of itself, sinful. At least I don't think so.
But murmuring is dangerous and seductive. Complaining for the sake of it. But not to anyone with authority, but to other people in a community. It can bring down a community like those vines I keep thinking about. Pulling it down from the inside. Bitching about rules, about decisions, policies, interactions, etc., without going to the source and working it out is no way to fix a problem, and no good way to run one's life. It's a good way to get misinformation, to share out-of-context interactions, annoyances, and petty bickerings. And that's what I've realized I've been doing for a few weeks now. It's my kids' school and it's driving me crazy. In my head I keep trying to focus on the huge positives (their teachers and the curriculum) and downplay the negatives, but I keep running into folks I can kvetch with. It gets me nowhere, it solves nothing, and it spreads my own frustrations to others (while also saddling me with their frustrations, GREAT).
It is just like me to be this way. I know myself pretty well. I was fully prepared to homeschool my kids, knowing that I'm prone to this sort of difficulty being a part of something. Especially a school--I've taught too long to put up with very much from a school administration. My bullshit detector trips easily. My current situation is compounded by many factors, most of them involving my complete inability to mold myself in the image and likeness of folks in charge. I don't like the decisions they're making and the control they have over my life, and so I'm rebelling in the nastiest way I know how. By murmuring.
And it's time to stop. It's time to either shut up and suck it up; become the person they want me to be; or move along. And my idea of stability kind of prevents the last choice--it's a GOOD school with excellent teachers and my girls are thriving there. I am not going to be one of those school-hopping parents who spend a year here, a year there, leaving only because of petty reasons, not educational ones. I'm not going to make my kids suffer because things aren't run just-so according to my platonic ideals of what a school should be. There is no surface reason to leave this school. And I won't. So it's time to keep my stupid mouth shut.
Plus, sometimes bad policies backfire or resolve all by themselves. If stability has taught me nothing else, it's shown me that biding one's time patiently, stubbornly, often does the trick.
Quote of the Week
From Friday's concert with Doc Watson (I am so blessed to have been able to see him):
Don't tell people your problems. Half of them don't want to hear them...and the other half are glad you have them.
Don't tell people your problems. Half of them don't want to hear them...and the other half are glad you have them.
Saturday, May 09, 2009
True Vine
Alley cleanup was today. We went out there with several neighbors from each side, and the implements we needed for the task: shovels, brooms, rakes. I brought a pair of pruning shears, because south city as a whole is overgrown with virulent invasive weeds. We scraped out the crud left from fall leaves and maple tree droppings. We moved dumpsters and cleaned out a year's worth of leaf mold from behind them.
I cut back an elm and a mulberry that were starting in Gloria's yard. The dreaded English ivy that was starting to tackle Mary's fence. And my fence. And probably your fence. Pulled out some Virginia creeper and wild strawberry. All these determined false vines--my yard is filled with them every early spring. Let me grow--you'll like me. Morning glory, Boston ivy, trumpet vine...and then there's always the pokeweed and wild violets that creep through my yard without being vines.
It made me think about this Sunday's readings: I am the vine, you the branches. I live in you and you in me. Without me you can do nothing. But with me, you can bear great fruit. None of these vines is anything like a true vine. And I spend so much of my gardening time pruning them back and digging them up. It's funny that I can't manage to grow cucumbers worth a damn, but I can grow morning glory and trumpet vine and all these other winding plants without a problem.
The True Vine is surely stronger than Virginia creeper, right? Creeper, let me tell you, has to be the strongest vine I've encountered (since I don't live far enough south to have kudzu in my yard). Virginia creeper grows in the dark. It nearly pulled down my back porch from the underneath side. It grows up, down, backwards, and sideways, in concrete, asphalt, and, to my great dismay, my backyard. The True Vine was an allusion to grapes, but I don't grow grapes. I think about the determination of all these false vines and think, surely, there is something to be learned there. Persistence, if nothing else.
But Virginia Creeper produces nothing. It gets culled from gardens and yards and alleyways. It is not a prized plant, nothing you would point out to a houseguest with pride. Trumpet vines can bring down telephone poles but bring nothing to the table but giant bees. Morning glory, English ivy, euonymous, all these crappy plants give us nothing and only steal from the soil what we wish to give to the plants we do love. And none of them needs a gardener. They don't get pruned in order to produce better--they get pruned and thrown in the yard waste dumpster. And when I think about Christianity, the way it's supposed to be, the words "invasive weed" don't come to mind.
Christianity is about support and care, not destructive clinging and overpowering self-interest. Christians do not bind up trees and destroy tuckpointing. They are not the strongest thing in the garden, choking out everything around it. When lived the right way, Christianity is the beautiful vine growing up the trellis, obedient, healthy, lovely. Christians patiently bear fruit, accept the pruning shears without complaint, go where they are guided and grow the way God, the gardener, wishes them to.
The other thing I noticed while I was trying to drag my yard into healthy obedience was the pile of wood in the parking pad in back--we took down a mulberry tree last fall and still have the wood waiting to be cut into usable pieces. One of the logs, about 3 feet long and too big for me to wrap my arms around, had tiny mulberry leaves starting to grow straight out of the bark. A vain attempt to continue living, since the log had no roots and was sitting on concrete. Mike mentioned that it seemed to be an evolutionary dead end. And how many comparable dead ends do we take, separated from our roots and good soil? Separated from Christ, we can do nothing (which of course seems patently false on the surface, but, if they could be interviewed for this story, those little mulberry leaves would probably feel successful, too). We need Christ, we need the church, our neighbors, our good soil and strong vine, if we are to produce anything of lasting value in this life.
I cut back an elm and a mulberry that were starting in Gloria's yard. The dreaded English ivy that was starting to tackle Mary's fence. And my fence. And probably your fence. Pulled out some Virginia creeper and wild strawberry. All these determined false vines--my yard is filled with them every early spring. Let me grow--you'll like me. Morning glory, Boston ivy, trumpet vine...and then there's always the pokeweed and wild violets that creep through my yard without being vines.
It made me think about this Sunday's readings: I am the vine, you the branches. I live in you and you in me. Without me you can do nothing. But with me, you can bear great fruit. None of these vines is anything like a true vine. And I spend so much of my gardening time pruning them back and digging them up. It's funny that I can't manage to grow cucumbers worth a damn, but I can grow morning glory and trumpet vine and all these other winding plants without a problem.
The True Vine is surely stronger than Virginia creeper, right? Creeper, let me tell you, has to be the strongest vine I've encountered (since I don't live far enough south to have kudzu in my yard). Virginia creeper grows in the dark. It nearly pulled down my back porch from the underneath side. It grows up, down, backwards, and sideways, in concrete, asphalt, and, to my great dismay, my backyard. The True Vine was an allusion to grapes, but I don't grow grapes. I think about the determination of all these false vines and think, surely, there is something to be learned there. Persistence, if nothing else.
But Virginia Creeper produces nothing. It gets culled from gardens and yards and alleyways. It is not a prized plant, nothing you would point out to a houseguest with pride. Trumpet vines can bring down telephone poles but bring nothing to the table but giant bees. Morning glory, English ivy, euonymous, all these crappy plants give us nothing and only steal from the soil what we wish to give to the plants we do love. And none of them needs a gardener. They don't get pruned in order to produce better--they get pruned and thrown in the yard waste dumpster. And when I think about Christianity, the way it's supposed to be, the words "invasive weed" don't come to mind.
Christianity is about support and care, not destructive clinging and overpowering self-interest. Christians do not bind up trees and destroy tuckpointing. They are not the strongest thing in the garden, choking out everything around it. When lived the right way, Christianity is the beautiful vine growing up the trellis, obedient, healthy, lovely. Christians patiently bear fruit, accept the pruning shears without complaint, go where they are guided and grow the way God, the gardener, wishes them to.
The other thing I noticed while I was trying to drag my yard into healthy obedience was the pile of wood in the parking pad in back--we took down a mulberry tree last fall and still have the wood waiting to be cut into usable pieces. One of the logs, about 3 feet long and too big for me to wrap my arms around, had tiny mulberry leaves starting to grow straight out of the bark. A vain attempt to continue living, since the log had no roots and was sitting on concrete. Mike mentioned that it seemed to be an evolutionary dead end. And how many comparable dead ends do we take, separated from our roots and good soil? Separated from Christ, we can do nothing (which of course seems patently false on the surface, but, if they could be interviewed for this story, those little mulberry leaves would probably feel successful, too). We need Christ, we need the church, our neighbors, our good soil and strong vine, if we are to produce anything of lasting value in this life.
Friday, May 08, 2009
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Ten More Things
While I'm on a roll and not wanting to give in to sleep (mostly because stupid Mike has gone to the MIDNIGHT show of the new Star Trek movie in a thunderstorm and neither of those things is conducive to a good night's sleep), I thought I'd make another list. This time, though, perhaps a list of ten things I'm hoping for this summer.
1. First and foremost, I want to figure out how to get Sophia reading on grade level without crushing her spirit in the process.
2. I want to live up to my promises about June. We will go to the Magic House (ugh). The art museum (better). Suson Park (perfect). A few other short trips. I want to relax for June but I don't want it to suddenly be June 28 and we haven't done anything at all.
3. I hope to find balance between crazy freaky stage mom and totally comatose "I don't care" mom. This one actually shouldn't be too hard.
4. I hope to finish Maeve's bunk quilt, the antique rail fence top, the strawberry shortcake flannel quilt, and Leo's baby quilt--all the tops are done, they just need quilting.
5. I hope the garden works.
6. I hope to really get back on the bike and work out some of this stir crazy and maybe, like two years ago, lose some weight
7. I hope to find a new doctor who isn't crazy but who also keeps me on thyroid medication.
8. I hope we don't lose any trees in any thunderstorms and that there aren't any tornadoes or power outages.
9. I hope I manage to not forget about my girl scout and atrium obligations when the schedule relaxes.
10. I hope the van does ok and makes it to Estes Park BECAUSE WE ARE GOING TO ROCKY MOUNTAIN NATIONAL PARK for a week this summer. Yay.
1. First and foremost, I want to figure out how to get Sophia reading on grade level without crushing her spirit in the process.
2. I want to live up to my promises about June. We will go to the Magic House (ugh). The art museum (better). Suson Park (perfect). A few other short trips. I want to relax for June but I don't want it to suddenly be June 28 and we haven't done anything at all.
3. I hope to find balance between crazy freaky stage mom and totally comatose "I don't care" mom. This one actually shouldn't be too hard.
4. I hope to finish Maeve's bunk quilt, the antique rail fence top, the strawberry shortcake flannel quilt, and Leo's baby quilt--all the tops are done, they just need quilting.
5. I hope the garden works.
6. I hope to really get back on the bike and work out some of this stir crazy and maybe, like two years ago, lose some weight
7. I hope to find a new doctor who isn't crazy but who also keeps me on thyroid medication.
8. I hope we don't lose any trees in any thunderstorms and that there aren't any tornadoes or power outages.
9. I hope I manage to not forget about my girl scout and atrium obligations when the schedule relaxes.
10. I hope the van does ok and makes it to Estes Park BECAUSE WE ARE GOING TO ROCKY MOUNTAIN NATIONAL PARK for a week this summer. Yay.
10 things I like right now
So with my kids making me crazy and the house a mess and so forth, I figure I need to write down a list. I like lists. They help me organize my brain. So, ten things I like right now:
1. Ten calorie vitamin water. Orange flavor. It's sweetened with sugar and stevia. I'm in love.
2. Toe-up socks. I read how to do this online and figured it out and I'm almost done with the first of a pair. They're cute.
3. Bum Genius cloth diaper all-in-ones. They aren't for night time, but they have made my life so much easier for daytime.
4. Spirea bushes. I have a baby one in the front yard that I hope doesn't die this summer--it really died back this past winter, I'm afraid. But I like these. I remember as a kid shaking my grandmother's until the petals fell all around me.
5. Star Trek Next Generation episodes. I've been (dorkily, yes) rewatching them in order at night when I'm hoping Leo goes to sleep. Hey, it's way better for my psyche than Law & Order.
6. My guest room. I have a guest room now. It's doubling as a sewing room and a place for ironing. And that is so wonderful, to be able to leave out a sewing project without fear of it interfering with, say, dinner.
7. Cat treat marketing. Mary pointed this out this weekend. Our current package of cat treats isn't "salmon" or "chicken" flavored. It's something crazy like "Ocean Going Party Mix." As if the cat is there in the store with me saying "Bridgett, get the Party Mix!! Pleeeeeeaaaase!" Also as if anyone is going to test to be sure they're really a party mix. They could all be moth flavored for all I care. But I like the idea, in a sad way, that it's someone's job to come up with the packaging and names of little compressed chunks of fish flavored crunchiness.
8. My mint-flavored shower gel. Well, not flavored.
9. Greens. Really. I never ate these growing up--I mean the wilted in the pan of grease kind of greens. I make mine in olive oil with garlic and minced onion and a bit of black pepper and I could eat the whole potful. Which might be why Leo's belly is so upset today, actually.
10. White noise. Because I can't be normal. No, really, my room has a box fan going, has had it since it finally got warm enough to open the windows a few weeks back. Leo sleeps better to white noise, I sleep better, air moves around with the fan. It's soothing and related to childhood somehow and I think I'm sleepy right now.
1. Ten calorie vitamin water. Orange flavor. It's sweetened with sugar and stevia. I'm in love.
2. Toe-up socks. I read how to do this online and figured it out and I'm almost done with the first of a pair. They're cute.
3. Bum Genius cloth diaper all-in-ones. They aren't for night time, but they have made my life so much easier for daytime.
4. Spirea bushes. I have a baby one in the front yard that I hope doesn't die this summer--it really died back this past winter, I'm afraid. But I like these. I remember as a kid shaking my grandmother's until the petals fell all around me.
5. Star Trek Next Generation episodes. I've been (dorkily, yes) rewatching them in order at night when I'm hoping Leo goes to sleep. Hey, it's way better for my psyche than Law & Order.
6. My guest room. I have a guest room now. It's doubling as a sewing room and a place for ironing. And that is so wonderful, to be able to leave out a sewing project without fear of it interfering with, say, dinner.
7. Cat treat marketing. Mary pointed this out this weekend. Our current package of cat treats isn't "salmon" or "chicken" flavored. It's something crazy like "Ocean Going Party Mix." As if the cat is there in the store with me saying "Bridgett, get the Party Mix!! Pleeeeeeaaaase!" Also as if anyone is going to test to be sure they're really a party mix. They could all be moth flavored for all I care. But I like the idea, in a sad way, that it's someone's job to come up with the packaging and names of little compressed chunks of fish flavored crunchiness.
8. My mint-flavored shower gel. Well, not flavored.
9. Greens. Really. I never ate these growing up--I mean the wilted in the pan of grease kind of greens. I make mine in olive oil with garlic and minced onion and a bit of black pepper and I could eat the whole potful. Which might be why Leo's belly is so upset today, actually.
10. White noise. Because I can't be normal. No, really, my room has a box fan going, has had it since it finally got warm enough to open the windows a few weeks back. Leo sleeps better to white noise, I sleep better, air moves around with the fan. It's soothing and related to childhood somehow and I think I'm sleepy right now.
Cray. See. Kids.
All three kids are making me crazy. Cray. See. A brief rundown:
1. Starting with the youngest, Leo has had a sour stomach all day. Lots of gurgling and upchucking on people's shirts. I blame something I ate. Now just to figure out what that might have been. Or it could be that the hiatal hernia is back. We go back to see the chiropractor next week for a follow up. But I'm thinking it's more likely all that spinach I had last night or something like that. He will NOT be put down, thank you very much, but must be held. Not just held, but held while standing. Hard times for Bridgett ahead when the house is in desperate need of cleaning and I'm going stir crazy and the yard and garden, not so hot either right now.
2. And then Maeve. Today was Thursday, which means she's with me all day. It's her day off from preschool and we go to Atrium together. Atrium went really well today, but she was her usual pushy bossy whiny spoiled self the moment we walked in. Seriously. She can be strong willed in other situations, but at least tends to be charming at the same time. Not at Atrium. She's the youngest this year, and that is loud and clear, but not only that. Maybe it's because I'm in charge of the Atrium that she thinks its an extension of her house or something--within her control. Except she doesn't act like this in my kitchen. I don't know.
3. Poor Sophie. She isn't getting enough sleep because the time change and the approach of summer--it's hard for some reason to get everything done when the sun is still up at 7:40. I don't know. Dinner keeps getting later and later, and then rush to bed. This means that the things she usually really likes, like going to Irish Dance practice, are excruciating punishments created by me to torture her. But she doesn't throw tantrums like Maeve might. She pouts. This was one conversation, when we were deciding whether she should stay for intermediate class this evening:
"Do you want to stay?" I asked. Her lip was sticking out and her eyes were big and sad.
"I don't know," she whined.
"Do you want me to decide?"
She nodded.
"I think you should stay. I think you would regret it if I took you home. You like dance."
Pout continues. "I don't know what I want to do."
And so the circle continued for a few minutes until her dance teacher intervened with that "I teach first grade" voice: Go get a drink of water and wash your face and come back and be ready. Then, after Sophia obeyed and slouched off into the hall, the teacher turned to me.
"She was fine the whole time you were gone, helping with the beginner class. Just go on ahead and she'll be fine."
So I left--when I returned, she was in a fine mood. So I guess she's not really on my nerves. But I had to leave Leo and Maeve at home with Mike to see that she wasn't doing so bad. Add attention-hog Maeve and a fussy baby and Sophia's reaction is pouting and whining. Ugh.
It's May. I need to keep that in mind. The countdown to summer has begun. They are both so done with their routines. And Leo? I guess I'll lay off the cruciferous veggies a few days and see if that's what turned his stomach.
1. Starting with the youngest, Leo has had a sour stomach all day. Lots of gurgling and upchucking on people's shirts. I blame something I ate. Now just to figure out what that might have been. Or it could be that the hiatal hernia is back. We go back to see the chiropractor next week for a follow up. But I'm thinking it's more likely all that spinach I had last night or something like that. He will NOT be put down, thank you very much, but must be held. Not just held, but held while standing. Hard times for Bridgett ahead when the house is in desperate need of cleaning and I'm going stir crazy and the yard and garden, not so hot either right now.
2. And then Maeve. Today was Thursday, which means she's with me all day. It's her day off from preschool and we go to Atrium together. Atrium went really well today, but she was her usual pushy bossy whiny spoiled self the moment we walked in. Seriously. She can be strong willed in other situations, but at least tends to be charming at the same time. Not at Atrium. She's the youngest this year, and that is loud and clear, but not only that. Maybe it's because I'm in charge of the Atrium that she thinks its an extension of her house or something--within her control. Except she doesn't act like this in my kitchen. I don't know.
3. Poor Sophie. She isn't getting enough sleep because the time change and the approach of summer--it's hard for some reason to get everything done when the sun is still up at 7:40. I don't know. Dinner keeps getting later and later, and then rush to bed. This means that the things she usually really likes, like going to Irish Dance practice, are excruciating punishments created by me to torture her. But she doesn't throw tantrums like Maeve might. She pouts. This was one conversation, when we were deciding whether she should stay for intermediate class this evening:
"Do you want to stay?" I asked. Her lip was sticking out and her eyes were big and sad.
"I don't know," she whined.
"Do you want me to decide?"
She nodded.
"I think you should stay. I think you would regret it if I took you home. You like dance."
Pout continues. "I don't know what I want to do."
And so the circle continued for a few minutes until her dance teacher intervened with that "I teach first grade" voice: Go get a drink of water and wash your face and come back and be ready. Then, after Sophia obeyed and slouched off into the hall, the teacher turned to me.
"She was fine the whole time you were gone, helping with the beginner class. Just go on ahead and she'll be fine."
So I left--when I returned, she was in a fine mood. So I guess she's not really on my nerves. But I had to leave Leo and Maeve at home with Mike to see that she wasn't doing so bad. Add attention-hog Maeve and a fussy baby and Sophia's reaction is pouting and whining. Ugh.
It's May. I need to keep that in mind. The countdown to summer has begun. They are both so done with their routines. And Leo? I guess I'll lay off the cruciferous veggies a few days and see if that's what turned his stomach.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Sacraments
This is the season of sacraments in my family and extended network (not technically family but I wish they were? Does that make sense?). Today, Sophia made her first communion. She was a deer in the headlights, so nervous, worked up about the whole thing. At the last moment, I wasn't sure if Atrium had prepared her completely for the act itself--did she know how to put her hands? Did she know to say Amen? But I knew, and was comforted, by two facts: Therese doesn't do things halfway (the atrium teacher) and Fr. John likes children and isn't going to terrify her.
It made me think back to my own first communion--Sr. Caroline prepared me, a young nun with cerebral palsy, I think, a sister I adored and responded to me in the right way, like few teachers have. And Fr. Jerry Keaty was our pastor at that point, and I liked him well enough he presided at my wedding 13 years later.
On the 31st of this month, Pentecost, we will baptize Leo. Once again, we've picked one of Mike's brothers as godfather and a protestant woman as godmother--it seems to be a good combination. Over the years, since Sophia's baptism, I have watched as my social crowd, my ring of friends and neighbors and relatives, has grown to the point that I'm not sure how we're going to have them all over to my house that afternoon. But we will try. With brisket and Texas requirements and cole slaw and more cake from Sweet Art and hopefully a sunny day and kids in the backyard and happy exhaustion when it's all over.
A month and a half ago, Mike's brother Steve got married, which, while making me feel a little old in the process, makes me so happy to watch the family grow in such good ways.
And at church, Leo is one of 5 baby boy baptisms this Easter season. He is the last of the 5 (I wanted Pentecost...). Andrew, Jonathan, Evan, Joah, and Leo. It's like the girl baby boom when Sophia was baptized: Ellie, Molly, Sophia, Claire.
Communions, reconciliations, weddings, baptisms. But then, this afternoon, Sophia's godfather sent me his mother's obituary. Lidia died Friday morning, a matriarch who could, as Rachel (her daughter-in-law) would put it, produce a full dinner for 10 out of her back pocket on a moment's notice. She seemed to me, just from the few times I met her, to be a formidable presence that will leave a great loss in her absence. I can't be at the funeral next weekend for all the reasons that surround me: a new baby, obligations on Sunday and Friday, Kansas City is just out of reach, and so forth. But I wish I could.
All these rites of passage and ancient traditions and hopefulness and joy. Easter.
It made me think back to my own first communion--Sr. Caroline prepared me, a young nun with cerebral palsy, I think, a sister I adored and responded to me in the right way, like few teachers have. And Fr. Jerry Keaty was our pastor at that point, and I liked him well enough he presided at my wedding 13 years later.
On the 31st of this month, Pentecost, we will baptize Leo. Once again, we've picked one of Mike's brothers as godfather and a protestant woman as godmother--it seems to be a good combination. Over the years, since Sophia's baptism, I have watched as my social crowd, my ring of friends and neighbors and relatives, has grown to the point that I'm not sure how we're going to have them all over to my house that afternoon. But we will try. With brisket and Texas requirements and cole slaw and more cake from Sweet Art and hopefully a sunny day and kids in the backyard and happy exhaustion when it's all over.
A month and a half ago, Mike's brother Steve got married, which, while making me feel a little old in the process, makes me so happy to watch the family grow in such good ways.
And at church, Leo is one of 5 baby boy baptisms this Easter season. He is the last of the 5 (I wanted Pentecost...). Andrew, Jonathan, Evan, Joah, and Leo. It's like the girl baby boom when Sophia was baptized: Ellie, Molly, Sophia, Claire.
Communions, reconciliations, weddings, baptisms. But then, this afternoon, Sophia's godfather sent me his mother's obituary. Lidia died Friday morning, a matriarch who could, as Rachel (her daughter-in-law) would put it, produce a full dinner for 10 out of her back pocket on a moment's notice. She seemed to me, just from the few times I met her, to be a formidable presence that will leave a great loss in her absence. I can't be at the funeral next weekend for all the reasons that surround me: a new baby, obligations on Sunday and Friday, Kansas City is just out of reach, and so forth. But I wish I could.
All these rites of passage and ancient traditions and hopefulness and joy. Easter.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
That's Not Something We Do
(Totally based on a Texan Mama post I just read)
(edited to add this picture of my totally gorgeous sister Colleen, not disfigured for life by cocker spaniel rage syndrome)
In 1991, my sister Colleen was bit in the face by a cocker spaniel that lived down the street from us. I have never liked those dogs. But anyway, it took zillions of stitches to put her face back together, it was the first of only three times I've seen my father consider a medical situation an emergency, and the dog wound up being put to sleep (it was his second bite).
Besides creating in me a complete distrust of dogs, this gave me something very important. My friends all asked me if my family was going to sue. "Sue Time!" Tom said on the bus. My father said simply that suing people was not something we did. The dog's owners were our neighbors, with a daughter Bevin's age. They were mortified that this had happened. Colleen made it through without lifelong disability or pain--there was no reason to sue them. That's not something we do.
Later on, a few years ago, someone asked me why I didn't sue Missouri Baptist Hospital when Sophia and I contracted e.coli when she was born. We were on a walk, and my mind floated back to that time. Sick baby, spinal taps, four different antibiotics, including one known for making newborns deaf. How long it took me to recover, how the time in the hospital nearly ended our breastfeeding relationship before it began. How hard it all was.
"That's just not something we do," I told her. Not that it didn't cross my mind back then, still really angry and dealing with the aftermath. But time softens things. We didn't die. She became my best nurser of the three. I think it actually made me a stronger advocate for her and my family. Fierce sometimes, even. It made me the mother I am. In the end, it made me a better person.
I'm not trying to say that if I'd sued the hospital, I wouldn't be a good person. What I'm saying is that I didn't need some sort of payback in order to get something out of the situation. Something good.
Then she remarked, after I'd explained myself, that she'd read a study about families of injured children. No matter how severe the injury, couples who did not sue were more likely to still be married x-number of years later, compared to a drastically high divorce rate among the couples who did sue over their children's injuries.
It's not that I read the study beforehand. But it made me smile, because, obviously, it played out that way for us. If we'd sued back then, what would we have done when we found lead paint in our house a year later and Sophia's lead levels spiked? Sued a defunct paint company? The lead mines? The idiot who painted our house? The former owners (all dead)? Their heirs? And when there was no one to sue, what then?
And it reminded me of another study I'd read after we bought our minivan. We bought a minivan because neither of us care about cars and we needed a bigger one. I liked driving my parents' van, I like sitting up higher in traffic. So we bought a minivan in an era when everyone was buying SUVs. The study was of people who bought minivans and people who bought SUVS. Minivan owners across the board had higher self-esteem and more realistic expectations of their lives and of those around them. It made me happy to read that. Like I'd somehow won a prize just in my own mind.
I'm happier with my life than that bozo who just cut me off in traffic AND I'm not divorced. Yay me.
The First 100 Days
So Leo was born Inauguration Day, and with all the continued focus on base-ten numbering systems and the magic they produce in the political life of our country, I was thinking....
Leo's First 100 Days: A Critical Evaluation and Interview with His Mother
So, Bridgett, if you had to sum it up in one word, what would you say about Leo's first 100 days?
Well, it's been--if I have to sum it up in a word, it would be surprising.
How so?
I was surprised at how easy it was to have a scheduled c-section. How well I recovered, how quickly. How much nursing hurt when he's my 3rd baby and I'm supposed to know what I'm doing. And how fast it's gone, really. I can't believe it's already May.
What were the big challenges Leo faced in this first 100 days?
He had thrush twice, which didn't bother him as much as it bothered me--but he also had two colds, and one of them led to an ear infection. It took two different antibiotics to take care of it. But he weathered it well.
He has a good temperament?
Definitely. He's a smiley baby who likes to snuggle. All my babies liked being held, but he likes being cradled, really. And he won't be put down--that's when the mood breaks down. As long as he's being held, life is good.
How does he sleep?
Better now at the end of the 100 days. That's typical of any baby, but around day 25, I was so tired. Things are going better.
What were the big milestones in the beginning of his administration?
Smiles, of course, first laughs. He can bring his hands together in front and pull something to his mouth, which is important for babies, really. Binocular vision seems to be in place. He's starting to turn to his name when I call it.
I know you would be considered a Leo expert, but what are the other experts saying?
His doctor is watching his weight gain--he was a whopping 9 pounds at birth but his weight gain has slowed since then. It's typical of breastfed babies, but we don't want him bottoming out too quickly. This past week, a new member of his medical team was appointed and she fixed his hiatal hernia and eased the pressure on the nursing situation. Mike, of course, is one of his closest advisers, and defenders--he has almost broken me of the habit of calling him the Little Chicken. Sophia is convinced he loves her best, and Maeve is trying her best to pull his arms out of their sockets. I'd have to say she's an adversarial member of the cabinet, frankly.
So, you said it has been a surprise. Besides all those mundane surprises, is there something else that comes to mind when you think back to the last 100 days?
Yes. I have two girls, and when I found out I was having a boy, I was excited and intrigued by how our family dynamic would grow and change. But in the darker corners of my heart I just didn't know if or how I could really love a boy like I love these girls. And the fierceness of that affection, I suppose, is what has taken me by surprise. He's lovely.
Thank you, Bridgett. I'll let you get back to your hard work.
Oh, don't fool yourself. I was knitting and watching Star Trek.
Leo's First 100 Days: A Critical Evaluation and Interview with His Mother
So, Bridgett, if you had to sum it up in one word, what would you say about Leo's first 100 days?
Well, it's been--if I have to sum it up in a word, it would be surprising.
How so?
I was surprised at how easy it was to have a scheduled c-section. How well I recovered, how quickly. How much nursing hurt when he's my 3rd baby and I'm supposed to know what I'm doing. And how fast it's gone, really. I can't believe it's already May.
What were the big challenges Leo faced in this first 100 days?
He had thrush twice, which didn't bother him as much as it bothered me--but he also had two colds, and one of them led to an ear infection. It took two different antibiotics to take care of it. But he weathered it well.
He has a good temperament?
Definitely. He's a smiley baby who likes to snuggle. All my babies liked being held, but he likes being cradled, really. And he won't be put down--that's when the mood breaks down. As long as he's being held, life is good.
How does he sleep?
Better now at the end of the 100 days. That's typical of any baby, but around day 25, I was so tired. Things are going better.
What were the big milestones in the beginning of his administration?
Smiles, of course, first laughs. He can bring his hands together in front and pull something to his mouth, which is important for babies, really. Binocular vision seems to be in place. He's starting to turn to his name when I call it.
I know you would be considered a Leo expert, but what are the other experts saying?
His doctor is watching his weight gain--he was a whopping 9 pounds at birth but his weight gain has slowed since then. It's typical of breastfed babies, but we don't want him bottoming out too quickly. This past week, a new member of his medical team was appointed and she fixed his hiatal hernia and eased the pressure on the nursing situation. Mike, of course, is one of his closest advisers, and defenders--he has almost broken me of the habit of calling him the Little Chicken. Sophia is convinced he loves her best, and Maeve is trying her best to pull his arms out of their sockets. I'd have to say she's an adversarial member of the cabinet, frankly.
So, you said it has been a surprise. Besides all those mundane surprises, is there something else that comes to mind when you think back to the last 100 days?
Yes. I have two girls, and when I found out I was having a boy, I was excited and intrigued by how our family dynamic would grow and change. But in the darker corners of my heart I just didn't know if or how I could really love a boy like I love these girls. And the fierceness of that affection, I suppose, is what has taken me by surprise. He's lovely.
Thank you, Bridgett. I'll let you get back to your hard work.
Oh, don't fool yourself. I was knitting and watching Star Trek.
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