I guess I won't include thyroid medication or vicodin in with the "health" part here, right? And I am soooo cheap when it comes to most of this. Probably embarrass myself without even realizing it.
1. Aquaphor. You cannot go wrong with this stuff slathered on your heels. Stick them in fuzzy socks for the night and your heels are so soft the next day. Really. It's just vaseline and lanolin but it does the trick.
2. Speaking of lanolin, I loved the lanolin I was given in the hospital after I had Leo. I think it was Medela's version? It wasn't Pure-Lan and it wasn't Lansinoh. It was THE BEST LANOLIN EVER. Soft, not too sheepy, perfect for when you need it.
3. That lavender salt scrub from Trader Joe's! It is wonderful for winter.
4. My not-cheap curly shampoo and conditioner from Salon St. Louis. I'm out right now and my hair? You can tell. It's true. That stuff works. I don't frizz, I don't go limp. My hair is as perfect as it ever gets when I use it.
5. Kiss My Face shower gel. Whatever fragrance is fine. Right now I'm using this clove one. It's so, how do I want to say it, indulgent? At least it seems that way.
6. The foamy stuff I use to "product" my hair. Also from Salon St. Louis. I don't use it often (because I am lazy) but when I do, followed by the hair dryer, my hair looks the way it's supposed to.
7. Followed by "Hair Polish" also from Salon St. Louis. I think it's technically a detangler. It has the consistency of Aquaphor...I use a pea-sized amount on my hands and run it through my hair. Shiny. But not gross. Really. And it smells wonderful. And Sophia realized all this, too, and now I am out. Poor Sophie and her hair.
8. CLEAR MASCARA. My eyelashes are long all by themselves. They are black, too. They do what they need to do. But sometimes I would want to finish them off, thicken them up a bit (I also have a few other minimal make up items), but I am such a spazz that regular mascara wound up all over. Such a dork. But clear mascara does exactly what I need it to do. Kind of gives a nice finish around the eyes, especially lower lashes, but when it rubs off (which it inevitably will do), it disappears and I simple put on more. No raccoon eyes. It is also perfect for little girls who have to dance on stage. My sister Bevin says her red-head friends use it, too, so that their red or light brown eyelashes don't look artificial. So smart.
9. tinted lip balm, whatever brand, whatever color. I don't do well with the hard edge of lipstick. Sometimes I wear it but usually, I stick with lip balm that has just a smidge of color. Like what you would let a 10 year old girl wear to "dress up." It's all I want.
10. California Baby bubble bath. Doesn't give Sophia a UTI. Doesn't make Maeve's eczema worse. Makes kids smell great. Perfect!
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
Utah Vestibule is No More
The blog, not the location.
I finished it up a few weeks ago so you'll probably see an occasional church post here. Like right now.
Yesterday I ran RCIA. And it was the second successful attempt for me. My first year was rocky and awkward, and the second year I was with child and then had child. Last year I barely participated, but I made the promise to myself that I would try harder this year (meaning starting at the school year, since that's the standard, although we run year-long catechesis and do not take a summer break).
RCIA, for my non-Catholic readers, is the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults. How we bring people into the church from wherever they're coming from (we've had converts from a variety of Christian denominations; in the late 80s it was all Buddhists from Vietnam, and we still have the occasional "none" box checked on the religion question).
I like converts, to any religion from any religion, except for people who join cults, of course, scary things like that. But I like talking to Gretchen on my block, for instance, who moved from Southern Baptist to Presbyterian. And I love how adult converts to Catholicism have a grasp of Catholic teaching, belief, and practice that those born Catholic simply do not. As one woman in the program right now said to me, "I would talk to my fiance about these things [he is Catholic] but he doesn't have the language to explain it."
How powerful those words are.
Catechesis of the Good Shepherd and RCIA have given me some of those words. Yesterday we talked about confirmation, which is a Catholic sacrament (and a sacrament in many other denominations) that completes baptism, in a way. It is an initiation sacrament that used to be integrated into baptism but separated as time went by and the Church grew geographically.
For many Catholics of recent vintage, it is seen as the end of going to PSR classes or paying attention in 8th grade religion. After confirmation, I'm done. I know I saw it that way, even as I was confirmed as an adult through RCIA (which, Sr. Mary tells me, I never should have been--I mean the RCIA part, she means I just should have been confirmed since I was a practicing active Catholic all along and knew what I was talking about). But did I? I saw it as a sort of Catholic bar mitzvah, frankly, the idea that now I've arrived. Now I'm done and ready to get on with adulthood.
But of course that's not how it goes, at least that's not how it went for me. My confirmation was a first step into a true in-depth look at my faith, what it meant to me, where I belonged, what the hell was I going to do? It was after confirmation that I almost left and joined the Friends, for instance. It was after confirmation that I got bitter and just stopped going to church, stopped praying, stopped caring. It was after confirmation that I struggled and worried and thought about my responsibilities to my children and debated my place in my parish and then played some softball and went on retreat. It was after confirmation that I found the Benedictines. Confirmation wasn't the end. "That about wraps it up for God" as it goes in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
Confirmation was the beginning.
So I set down a series of photographs on the table yesterday (one of the folks in the program is an immigrant with limited language skills) and talked about olive oil. About how God has given us everything we need to receive grace. Pictures of a sheep having oil poured on its head (yes, it is done, and not for religious reasons). Of the ark and Noah and the dove. The anointing of Aaron. The baptism of Christ. Step by step through the bible. Reflecting on cleansing water of baptism followed by the seal of oil or the holy spirit (doves, olive branches, anointings).
I think it was probably good.
I finished it up a few weeks ago so you'll probably see an occasional church post here. Like right now.
Yesterday I ran RCIA. And it was the second successful attempt for me. My first year was rocky and awkward, and the second year I was with child and then had child. Last year I barely participated, but I made the promise to myself that I would try harder this year (meaning starting at the school year, since that's the standard, although we run year-long catechesis and do not take a summer break).
RCIA, for my non-Catholic readers, is the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults. How we bring people into the church from wherever they're coming from (we've had converts from a variety of Christian denominations; in the late 80s it was all Buddhists from Vietnam, and we still have the occasional "none" box checked on the religion question).
I like converts, to any religion from any religion, except for people who join cults, of course, scary things like that. But I like talking to Gretchen on my block, for instance, who moved from Southern Baptist to Presbyterian. And I love how adult converts to Catholicism have a grasp of Catholic teaching, belief, and practice that those born Catholic simply do not. As one woman in the program right now said to me, "I would talk to my fiance about these things [he is Catholic] but he doesn't have the language to explain it."
How powerful those words are.
Catechesis of the Good Shepherd and RCIA have given me some of those words. Yesterday we talked about confirmation, which is a Catholic sacrament (and a sacrament in many other denominations) that completes baptism, in a way. It is an initiation sacrament that used to be integrated into baptism but separated as time went by and the Church grew geographically.
For many Catholics of recent vintage, it is seen as the end of going to PSR classes or paying attention in 8th grade religion. After confirmation, I'm done. I know I saw it that way, even as I was confirmed as an adult through RCIA (which, Sr. Mary tells me, I never should have been--I mean the RCIA part, she means I just should have been confirmed since I was a practicing active Catholic all along and knew what I was talking about). But did I? I saw it as a sort of Catholic bar mitzvah, frankly, the idea that now I've arrived. Now I'm done and ready to get on with adulthood.
But of course that's not how it goes, at least that's not how it went for me. My confirmation was a first step into a true in-depth look at my faith, what it meant to me, where I belonged, what the hell was I going to do? It was after confirmation that I almost left and joined the Friends, for instance. It was after confirmation that I got bitter and just stopped going to church, stopped praying, stopped caring. It was after confirmation that I struggled and worried and thought about my responsibilities to my children and debated my place in my parish and then played some softball and went on retreat. It was after confirmation that I found the Benedictines. Confirmation wasn't the end. "That about wraps it up for God" as it goes in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
Confirmation was the beginning.
So I set down a series of photographs on the table yesterday (one of the folks in the program is an immigrant with limited language skills) and talked about olive oil. About how God has given us everything we need to receive grace. Pictures of a sheep having oil poured on its head (yes, it is done, and not for religious reasons). Of the ark and Noah and the dove. The anointing of Aaron. The baptism of Christ. Step by step through the bible. Reflecting on cleansing water of baptism followed by the seal of oil or the holy spirit (doves, olive branches, anointings).
I think it was probably good.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Thought for today
Care of Dona, care of her pastor? maybe? Her mother's? I don't know. She would know. It was on her facebook. But it rang so true with me considering the course of the last few months in my house. It's Kahlil Gibran, whom I usually do not go for in a big way. But this stanza. Yup.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and
He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
So he loves also the bow that is stable.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and
He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
So he loves also the bow that is stable.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Camping with Snitchy-Cat Girls
I have 20 girl scouts in my troop. They break down, statistics-wise, this way (to make the story make more sense):
My daughter's school:
10 4th-5th grade girls (a mix, but since they're all in class together I'll count them as one group)
Neighborhood girls:
1 5th grader
3 4th graders
Parish school girls:
3 4th graders
3 5th graders
Ok, and more background, my co-leader's daughter is one of those parish school 5th graders. And I have a pair of sisters, both parish school girls, one 4th and one 5th.
So we went camping. Nineteen girls went (one of the neighbor girls was MIA). I told families to be at the parish parking lot at 4:30 on Friday. Most were there. And others arrived shortly after 4:30. There were forms to sign and money to pay and that takes a minute. I was hoping to leave by 4:45. Camp is 1 hour and 10 minutes away.
At 4:45 I had girls situated. My co-leader and her daughter were coming Saturday at lunchtime, and so I knew I needed spots for 18 girls...it was a tight fit and we only had 15 by 4:45. Parents started to trail away and we were distributing permission slips to the drivers when the two sisters' car pulls up. These two, they don't talk to me. It's odd. They are very attached to my co-leader, the older one being her daughter's best friend. But at meetings other girls interact with me and they don't. In fact, they don't interact really at all. It's something to reflect on post-camping because they probably weren't ready for this kind of trip.
But they pull up and each of them has a sleeping bag. And between them they have a huge plastic bag from Target. Seriously. That's how they packed. I try to be accommodating. But really?
So I stuff them in Miss Bridget's car (teacher from my girls' school, girls LOVE her) and I swear on a stack that I was putting one foot in my car, getting ready to pull away, when up drives the last girl with her mom. Cookie mom and daughter. Actually, to be most fair, the woman I refer to as "Cookie Mom" is really "Cookie Grandma" and I have misled you all for 2 years. It makes it even worse though, because the mom is Cookie's daughter-in-law (or ex? or never married? who knows?) and seethes with rage about Cookie's over-involvement with her kids. Caught in a hard place. Let me tell ya.
And I'm angry that she's there. I'm seething because this means even tighter squeeze; she hasn't been to any meetings all year until the one right before camping and cookie sales; I have a hard time separating my anger towards the adults in her life from my benign impression of her herself. And I know that, and so I take a deep breath and act nice. I do. I put her in my car and find room for all her stuff and away we go.
We stay in a lodge, of course, heat, bathrooms, kitchen, the works. Mattresses on the floor, everybody has her own space, and there's a room for leaders with cots. Whee. Friday night is fine. But after lights-out, Cookie girl and the two sisters won't quiet down. And won't quiet down. And flash their flashlights around. And whatever. It's all first-night-at-camp stuff and at 11, things seem quiet.
In the morning, I hear from one of my responsible girls that at midnight, those three got up and ran around shining lights in folks' eyes. I tell her she should have come and told me, but I don't do anything because, again, first night at camp. My early birds are up by 6:00 and that's punishment enough for night owls, right?
But then.
They turn into total bitches. There, I said it. Those three--the two sisters with the target bag of crap, and cookie girl. Some highlights:
*I realize they, and others, have put leftover brown-bag dinner into their cubbies. I tell folks about mice and girls immediately move things to the mostly empty fridge in the kitchen. No big thing. Except later I catch those three eating in the cubby room, so they didn't put things in the fridge. I reiterate.
*They run around, jump on other girls' beds, etc.
*They hide Eliza's stuffed animal and then make fun of her. Before I can intervene, one of the girls from Sophia's school comes to talk to me and starts to cry because they've been snitchy-cat mean to her. And that's it, you know? So I yell at Cookie Girl, who is obviously the ringleader. She's running around the room at the time, jumping around and stirring folks up. I can see the neighbor girls and the girls from Sophia's school (the "montessori girls") getting annoyed and angry. And I let Cookie Girl have it.
I taught middle school and I know how to be scary. And that's what I did. Dead. Silence. I have never yelled at girls in my troop, ever. To be heard, I mean, sure, and I've been stern on the archery range, but never raised my voice to intimidate. And I did. It made an impression.
Cookie girl went over to her mattress and moped. Her friends joined her and gave me dirty looks from their corner. I left the room, coming back in a few minutes later with my coat and boots on. I invited whichever girls wanted to go out in the snow. About half the girls came with me (obviously not those three) and we had a GREAT time in the snow. Tried to sled and that didn't work out with our makeshift sleds, but they rolled down the hill and we looked at animal tracks and threw snowballs and had a nice time. Came back in and Bridget cornered me in the kitchen.
*Cookie and her friends had raided the fridge. Taken all the apples. Did things like take a bite out of each one and then hide them in their sleeping bags. They had then sat on their mattresses all sullen and separate from the rest of the girls, who were playing bananagrams and uno and playing with craft supplies.
So I went over to their corner and didn't raise my voice this time. I pointed out that this wasn't a sleepover, this wasn't their house, and they were to adopt a generous and helpful attitude immediately or they would never camp with me again. And I went to the kitchen to wait to see what would happen. One of their hangers-on, a girl who has been in my troop since kindergarten and was kind of hanging with them but kind of not, came over to me and apologized. I talked to her about choosing friends wisely and that was all. She chose the better part. The other three sat on their beds. They almost skipped lunch, coming in at the very end and finding not much to choose from--just salad, really, was left, and tortillas and ham. They ate at their own table, shooting me dirty looks.
Several times between yelling and when my coleader arrived I lamented all this to Bridget. I just couldn't believe it--I have never had behavior problems in my troop. Yes, girls are loud, yes, occasionally there are personality conflicts. But never like this.
My co-leader arrived and I filled her in on the details. She took all the parish school girls, except one who had never been a part of any of it, on a LOOOOOOONG hike. When they came back, they were new girls.
But while they were gone, I violated their civil rights and went through their stuff. Found all their food. Threw the junk away, put the lunch boxes in the fridge. Didn't tell them. Didn't have anything to say, really, the rest of the weekend about the beginning of the trip.
I found myself, during their hike, really enjoying the remaining 13 girls as they finger-knitted and drew in their journals and played at the craft table. I debated in my head what to do in the future. I love my coleader and I don't want to split down school lines. On the other hand, I think they probably won't be long in my troop. But on yet the other hand, the three of them have huge emotional needs and could really find a respite in scouting if we did it right. Girl scouting is empowering (at least the way I do it, at least the way I try to do it) and they could use some real empowering. They are the least mature of all the girls in the troop, and at the same time they are the ones I would say are old before their time. Rough. But I'm just not sure I'm the person to give them what they need. I don't mean that I wouldn't want to. I mean that I am no counselor. My coleader and I are so well balanced that way--she is all the touchy-feely on their level feel better stuff, and I'm the one who takes all the classes so we can do what we want to do. And I teach them stuff they don't learn anywhere else. It's really good. Except when my co-leader isn't there on Friday night of a camping trip.
So I'm thinking about this. I've been thinking all week, actually. I'm troubled by it. By them. By my desire to balance the good with the bad, to balance 17 girls who are better supported and are in girl scouts to have fun and learn stuff, against 3 girls who maybe need scouting even more....but probably won't stay because it is another thing that they will become too cynical about too soon.
And I'm probably over-thinking it. They were terrible to the other girls on this trip and I don't think they should be allowed to go next time. Or?
See? I'm conflicted. I hate that. So I'm off to Leo's 2 year doctor appointment and more later.
My daughter's school:
10 4th-5th grade girls (a mix, but since they're all in class together I'll count them as one group)
Neighborhood girls:
1 5th grader
3 4th graders
Parish school girls:
3 4th graders
3 5th graders
Ok, and more background, my co-leader's daughter is one of those parish school 5th graders. And I have a pair of sisters, both parish school girls, one 4th and one 5th.
So we went camping. Nineteen girls went (one of the neighbor girls was MIA). I told families to be at the parish parking lot at 4:30 on Friday. Most were there. And others arrived shortly after 4:30. There were forms to sign and money to pay and that takes a minute. I was hoping to leave by 4:45. Camp is 1 hour and 10 minutes away.
At 4:45 I had girls situated. My co-leader and her daughter were coming Saturday at lunchtime, and so I knew I needed spots for 18 girls...it was a tight fit and we only had 15 by 4:45. Parents started to trail away and we were distributing permission slips to the drivers when the two sisters' car pulls up. These two, they don't talk to me. It's odd. They are very attached to my co-leader, the older one being her daughter's best friend. But at meetings other girls interact with me and they don't. In fact, they don't interact really at all. It's something to reflect on post-camping because they probably weren't ready for this kind of trip.
But they pull up and each of them has a sleeping bag. And between them they have a huge plastic bag from Target. Seriously. That's how they packed. I try to be accommodating. But really?
So I stuff them in Miss Bridget's car (teacher from my girls' school, girls LOVE her) and I swear on a stack that I was putting one foot in my car, getting ready to pull away, when up drives the last girl with her mom. Cookie mom and daughter. Actually, to be most fair, the woman I refer to as "Cookie Mom" is really "Cookie Grandma" and I have misled you all for 2 years. It makes it even worse though, because the mom is Cookie's daughter-in-law (or ex? or never married? who knows?) and seethes with rage about Cookie's over-involvement with her kids. Caught in a hard place. Let me tell ya.
And I'm angry that she's there. I'm seething because this means even tighter squeeze; she hasn't been to any meetings all year until the one right before camping and cookie sales; I have a hard time separating my anger towards the adults in her life from my benign impression of her herself. And I know that, and so I take a deep breath and act nice. I do. I put her in my car and find room for all her stuff and away we go.
We stay in a lodge, of course, heat, bathrooms, kitchen, the works. Mattresses on the floor, everybody has her own space, and there's a room for leaders with cots. Whee. Friday night is fine. But after lights-out, Cookie girl and the two sisters won't quiet down. And won't quiet down. And flash their flashlights around. And whatever. It's all first-night-at-camp stuff and at 11, things seem quiet.
In the morning, I hear from one of my responsible girls that at midnight, those three got up and ran around shining lights in folks' eyes. I tell her she should have come and told me, but I don't do anything because, again, first night at camp. My early birds are up by 6:00 and that's punishment enough for night owls, right?
But then.
They turn into total bitches. There, I said it. Those three--the two sisters with the target bag of crap, and cookie girl. Some highlights:
*I realize they, and others, have put leftover brown-bag dinner into their cubbies. I tell folks about mice and girls immediately move things to the mostly empty fridge in the kitchen. No big thing. Except later I catch those three eating in the cubby room, so they didn't put things in the fridge. I reiterate.
*They run around, jump on other girls' beds, etc.
*They hide Eliza's stuffed animal and then make fun of her. Before I can intervene, one of the girls from Sophia's school comes to talk to me and starts to cry because they've been snitchy-cat mean to her. And that's it, you know? So I yell at Cookie Girl, who is obviously the ringleader. She's running around the room at the time, jumping around and stirring folks up. I can see the neighbor girls and the girls from Sophia's school (the "montessori girls") getting annoyed and angry. And I let Cookie Girl have it.
I taught middle school and I know how to be scary. And that's what I did. Dead. Silence. I have never yelled at girls in my troop, ever. To be heard, I mean, sure, and I've been stern on the archery range, but never raised my voice to intimidate. And I did. It made an impression.
Cookie girl went over to her mattress and moped. Her friends joined her and gave me dirty looks from their corner. I left the room, coming back in a few minutes later with my coat and boots on. I invited whichever girls wanted to go out in the snow. About half the girls came with me (obviously not those three) and we had a GREAT time in the snow. Tried to sled and that didn't work out with our makeshift sleds, but they rolled down the hill and we looked at animal tracks and threw snowballs and had a nice time. Came back in and Bridget cornered me in the kitchen.
*Cookie and her friends had raided the fridge. Taken all the apples. Did things like take a bite out of each one and then hide them in their sleeping bags. They had then sat on their mattresses all sullen and separate from the rest of the girls, who were playing bananagrams and uno and playing with craft supplies.
So I went over to their corner and didn't raise my voice this time. I pointed out that this wasn't a sleepover, this wasn't their house, and they were to adopt a generous and helpful attitude immediately or they would never camp with me again. And I went to the kitchen to wait to see what would happen. One of their hangers-on, a girl who has been in my troop since kindergarten and was kind of hanging with them but kind of not, came over to me and apologized. I talked to her about choosing friends wisely and that was all. She chose the better part. The other three sat on their beds. They almost skipped lunch, coming in at the very end and finding not much to choose from--just salad, really, was left, and tortillas and ham. They ate at their own table, shooting me dirty looks.
Several times between yelling and when my coleader arrived I lamented all this to Bridget. I just couldn't believe it--I have never had behavior problems in my troop. Yes, girls are loud, yes, occasionally there are personality conflicts. But never like this.
My co-leader arrived and I filled her in on the details. She took all the parish school girls, except one who had never been a part of any of it, on a LOOOOOOONG hike. When they came back, they were new girls.
But while they were gone, I violated their civil rights and went through their stuff. Found all their food. Threw the junk away, put the lunch boxes in the fridge. Didn't tell them. Didn't have anything to say, really, the rest of the weekend about the beginning of the trip.
I found myself, during their hike, really enjoying the remaining 13 girls as they finger-knitted and drew in their journals and played at the craft table. I debated in my head what to do in the future. I love my coleader and I don't want to split down school lines. On the other hand, I think they probably won't be long in my troop. But on yet the other hand, the three of them have huge emotional needs and could really find a respite in scouting if we did it right. Girl scouting is empowering (at least the way I do it, at least the way I try to do it) and they could use some real empowering. They are the least mature of all the girls in the troop, and at the same time they are the ones I would say are old before their time. Rough. But I'm just not sure I'm the person to give them what they need. I don't mean that I wouldn't want to. I mean that I am no counselor. My coleader and I are so well balanced that way--she is all the touchy-feely on their level feel better stuff, and I'm the one who takes all the classes so we can do what we want to do. And I teach them stuff they don't learn anywhere else. It's really good. Except when my co-leader isn't there on Friday night of a camping trip.
So I'm thinking about this. I've been thinking all week, actually. I'm troubled by it. By them. By my desire to balance the good with the bad, to balance 17 girls who are better supported and are in girl scouts to have fun and learn stuff, against 3 girls who maybe need scouting even more....but probably won't stay because it is another thing that they will become too cynical about too soon.
And I'm probably over-thinking it. They were terrible to the other girls on this trip and I don't think they should be allowed to go next time. Or?
See? I'm conflicted. I hate that. So I'm off to Leo's 2 year doctor appointment and more later.
Mark All As Read
That's what I just did on google reader.
Things got busy. I haven't been on the internet all week except to argue with Snapfish about an order and worry to the English bra company about why one part of my order came in 3 days and the other has been in the ether for 2 weeks. Dang it. And some ancestry.com which sucked me in again. I guess that's part of the busy?
But there are other parts. Snow, for instance. Six and a half inches of snow. A national holiday and a snow day in one week. I have pictures...I'm so behind on this blog and Sycamore at this point...and then there was the camping trip. I've hashed this out already in person with so many people but I will again in just a second. And then there was the broken washing machine (all told, about 2 1/2 weeks of broken washing machine) and broken dishwasher, the worst part of which was ordering the part and finding out that I needed another part as well. But handwashing dishes isn't any big thing compared to hauling laundry to friends' houses (thank you Mary and Ann) and my mom's (ditto). Dry skin, bedtime stories, keeping the house cleanish, girl scout cookie sales, you know. It adds up.
So if you wrote something brilliant and I didn't say anything? Don't take it personally. I just kind of slipped under the water a minute but I'll be back. Here in just a moment.
Things got busy. I haven't been on the internet all week except to argue with Snapfish about an order and worry to the English bra company about why one part of my order came in 3 days and the other has been in the ether for 2 weeks. Dang it. And some ancestry.com which sucked me in again. I guess that's part of the busy?
But there are other parts. Snow, for instance. Six and a half inches of snow. A national holiday and a snow day in one week. I have pictures...I'm so behind on this blog and Sycamore at this point...and then there was the camping trip. I've hashed this out already in person with so many people but I will again in just a second. And then there was the broken washing machine (all told, about 2 1/2 weeks of broken washing machine) and broken dishwasher, the worst part of which was ordering the part and finding out that I needed another part as well. But handwashing dishes isn't any big thing compared to hauling laundry to friends' houses (thank you Mary and Ann) and my mom's (ditto). Dry skin, bedtime stories, keeping the house cleanish, girl scout cookie sales, you know. It adds up.
So if you wrote something brilliant and I didn't say anything? Don't take it personally. I just kind of slipped under the water a minute but I'll be back. Here in just a moment.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Ten On Tuesday: 10 favorite games from my childhood
Quickly, outdoor games:
1. Kick the can
2. Ghost in the Graveyard
3. Jump Rope (single rope with sing-song games)
4. Four-square
5. Chinese jump rope (we had a whole series of levels to complete)
Indoor games:
6. Uno
7. Pente (like connect 4 but it was 5 and it used those flat marbles)
8. Kerplunk (in my grandmother's basement, with the pick up sticks and the marbles?)
9. Tetris (later childhood, of course)
10. Risk
1. Kick the can
2. Ghost in the Graveyard
3. Jump Rope (single rope with sing-song games)
4. Four-square
5. Chinese jump rope (we had a whole series of levels to complete)
Indoor games:
6. Uno
7. Pente (like connect 4 but it was 5 and it used those flat marbles)
8. Kerplunk (in my grandmother's basement, with the pick up sticks and the marbles?)
9. Tetris (later childhood, of course)
10. Risk
Monday, January 17, 2011
Where Did I Go?
Girl Scout Camp. Well, it's more involved than that. I have to write a review of our weekend but I need a few more hours to process it. This evening. But what else happened this week?
Well, the washing machine is still broken. The parts arrived and the repairman came and brought a friend (another repairman, I mean). All looked well, but then they broke some little part that connects a hose and is vital to the working of the machine. I have 3 kids and a husband and things started to reach "I have to go to a laundromat" level. Then, of course, I went on a camping trip so there's another box of laundry in the kitchen that really needs to be done but is too big (sleeping bags) for my mother's washer. I could take it to Ann's, and I might, but I'm hopeful that UPS will bring my part today and the repairman will be able to fix it tomorrow. I miss it.
The dishwasher was also broken but I was able to get the parts from Marcone here in town and Mike fixed it. No problem. So, ironically, my kitchen is dirtier now. When you have to stay on top of dishes, you stay on top of them. This makes me wonder about what I should be doing in my kitchen.
The kitchen table broke, too. It's old--a kitchenette table from the 50s. It was easily fixed with gorilla glue and strong man Mike to tighten all the bolts.
It snowed, as I mentioned, and then stayed cold. Snow with no washing machine?
So I spent time at my mom's. At Ann's. Doing laundry. I also taught art and shopped for girl scout camp and spent all Friday doing a bad job packing for camping.
But I'm back. National holiday, got to sleep in. Going to clean house and take a load of laundry over to a neighbor's and to my mother's and go to lunch with Mike.
Well, the washing machine is still broken. The parts arrived and the repairman came and brought a friend (another repairman, I mean). All looked well, but then they broke some little part that connects a hose and is vital to the working of the machine. I have 3 kids and a husband and things started to reach "I have to go to a laundromat" level. Then, of course, I went on a camping trip so there's another box of laundry in the kitchen that really needs to be done but is too big (sleeping bags) for my mother's washer. I could take it to Ann's, and I might, but I'm hopeful that UPS will bring my part today and the repairman will be able to fix it tomorrow. I miss it.
The dishwasher was also broken but I was able to get the parts from Marcone here in town and Mike fixed it. No problem. So, ironically, my kitchen is dirtier now. When you have to stay on top of dishes, you stay on top of them. This makes me wonder about what I should be doing in my kitchen.
The kitchen table broke, too. It's old--a kitchenette table from the 50s. It was easily fixed with gorilla glue and strong man Mike to tighten all the bolts.
It snowed, as I mentioned, and then stayed cold. Snow with no washing machine?
So I spent time at my mom's. At Ann's. Doing laundry. I also taught art and shopped for girl scout camp and spent all Friday doing a bad job packing for camping.
But I'm back. National holiday, got to sleep in. Going to clean house and take a load of laundry over to a neighbor's and to my mother's and go to lunch with Mike.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Snow Day
I went to bed with just a dusting on the streets. I'm not a teacher right now and so snow days should just be an inconvenience: the kids home, the mess, the requests for special foods and hot chocolate and the mess, did I mention the mess? But I went from student to teacher. No pause before motherhood. So snow days are still in my blood. I love them. I go to bed hoping that it will happen, while the words that come out of my mouth to my daughters are more reserved: there isn't much snow. Your school is close by and they aren't likely to call it off for just a bit. If we get 4 inches, then maybe. But we'll just have to wait and see. Then I show them the school closings online. Only about 10 schools at 9:30. All out west. They understand, but they still hope. Well, so do I.
I get email on my phone, and so at 4:30 I wake up and whisper to Mike to hand me the phone. Neither of us sleep anymore, I'm figuring out. Leo is tough these days. I mean nights. So Mike hands me my phone and I turn it on. Gmail is already open on the screen and there it is, the email from our school director. School is closed for the day. Happy, I hand the phone back to Mike and go back to sleep.
I don't get out of bed until Eliza down the street calls and wakes me up at 8:30. Leo gets down from bed and wanders around the house. Maeve remains in bed. Sophia dresses quickly and goes over to play. I start folding some laundry, but then there's a diaper to change and a baby to dress and then Maeve is up and needs something to eat and my goodness I haven't had coffee yet?
Sophia and Eliza come out and play in the snow with Maeve--and Leo wants to GO GO GO GO. So on with the snowsuit and out the door. Thank goodness for thyroid medication. It's cold, but it doesn't hurt. I can't say that enough. I sweep the steps a bit, I take some pictures, Leo warms up to the cold and snow just fine. His cheeks get pink and his nose gets pink and the little angel kiss birthmark on his forehead, a V for Victory, gets dark. Neighbors come and go, taking pictures, shoveling the walk, getting boys into the car to go sledding somewhere more exciting than a front yard.
The girls get cold, and since Gretchen's gone to work for a bit, Eliza comes home with us and they make hot chocolate with hottest tap water and lots of whipped cream from a can. Leo gets some sprayed right into his mouth, and about 3 tablespoons of warm water mixed with cocoa mix. He has a goatee of chocolate when he comes in searching for something more substantial to eat.
The dishwasher is still broken (the part arrives today and I can fix it once I have the part) and I wash dishes by hand, listening to Diane Rehm, watching the juncos hop around in the snow under the magnolia tree. I feed Leo peanut butter cereal and put on a movie. And put on the coffee. The girls rush up to the attic to destroy it, I'm sure, and I make a note to myself to catch up with them at lunch time to be sure they clean. I wonder if Zelda will get a mah jongg game together later this afternoon.
Coffee in hand, I start tidying up the front hall disaster of snow boots snow pants snow suits winter coats scarves mittens gloves. Jack hisses at the front door, through which I can see our stray sitting on our porch contemptuously. I head upstairs and feed the orange cat. Tidy up the bathroom counter and look at the laundry. Decide to ignore the folding for a minute and write this instead.
And now it's closer to lunchtime than ever before and I'm not sure what that will entail. It should probably be hot food. It's 22 degrees outside and my house is breezy.
I get email on my phone, and so at 4:30 I wake up and whisper to Mike to hand me the phone. Neither of us sleep anymore, I'm figuring out. Leo is tough these days. I mean nights. So Mike hands me my phone and I turn it on. Gmail is already open on the screen and there it is, the email from our school director. School is closed for the day. Happy, I hand the phone back to Mike and go back to sleep.
I don't get out of bed until Eliza down the street calls and wakes me up at 8:30. Leo gets down from bed and wanders around the house. Maeve remains in bed. Sophia dresses quickly and goes over to play. I start folding some laundry, but then there's a diaper to change and a baby to dress and then Maeve is up and needs something to eat and my goodness I haven't had coffee yet?
Sophia and Eliza come out and play in the snow with Maeve--and Leo wants to GO GO GO GO. So on with the snowsuit and out the door. Thank goodness for thyroid medication. It's cold, but it doesn't hurt. I can't say that enough. I sweep the steps a bit, I take some pictures, Leo warms up to the cold and snow just fine. His cheeks get pink and his nose gets pink and the little angel kiss birthmark on his forehead, a V for Victory, gets dark. Neighbors come and go, taking pictures, shoveling the walk, getting boys into the car to go sledding somewhere more exciting than a front yard.
The girls get cold, and since Gretchen's gone to work for a bit, Eliza comes home with us and they make hot chocolate with hottest tap water and lots of whipped cream from a can. Leo gets some sprayed right into his mouth, and about 3 tablespoons of warm water mixed with cocoa mix. He has a goatee of chocolate when he comes in searching for something more substantial to eat.
The dishwasher is still broken (the part arrives today and I can fix it once I have the part) and I wash dishes by hand, listening to Diane Rehm, watching the juncos hop around in the snow under the magnolia tree. I feed Leo peanut butter cereal and put on a movie. And put on the coffee. The girls rush up to the attic to destroy it, I'm sure, and I make a note to myself to catch up with them at lunch time to be sure they clean. I wonder if Zelda will get a mah jongg game together later this afternoon.
Coffee in hand, I start tidying up the front hall disaster of snow boots snow pants snow suits winter coats scarves mittens gloves. Jack hisses at the front door, through which I can see our stray sitting on our porch contemptuously. I head upstairs and feed the orange cat. Tidy up the bathroom counter and look at the laundry. Decide to ignore the folding for a minute and write this instead.
And now it's closer to lunchtime than ever before and I'm not sure what that will entail. It should probably be hot food. It's 22 degrees outside and my house is breezy.
Ten on Tuesday: 10 ways to be more organized
Annie Knits stole most of mine...seriously, what else can I say? How about "ways in which I'm really bad at being organized and this is what I should do to be better at it"?
1. De-clutter. Duh. I'm sitting at a computer desk that has on it: a bottle of lotion, two phones, a camera, binoculars, a screwdriver, numerous pencils that need sharpening, my extended warranty on the washing machine, an eyeglass cleaning cloth, a photo of my kids, a netflix DVD, two girl notebooks, a coffee mug, and embroidery floss. This is not a good way to live. All these things have homes in my house. I should deal with this...
2. Keep things where they are used. My coffee maker sits next to my coffee beans and grinder and filters and mugs. This is why I hate laundry: nothing is where it needs to be. Machines, ironing board, dirty clothing, etc--all over the place.
3. Make thy bed. Every morning. We have a down comforter that I just have to pull across. When I do, it makes my whole day more organized, every time I walk past.
4. My father's advice: put things back. The girls are especially bad at this...but Mike and strive to compete, let me tell you. My sewing/guest room two days before Christmas? Terrifying.
5. Back up everything on your computer that you can't replace and wouldn't want to lose (like photos!!). We do this. Just not often enough and it's time to do it again.
6. Have an emergency plan. Working on this in 2011. How to shelter in place when we don't have heat? How to leave on a moment's notice? Probably never need to do the second one, but will almost definitely need to do the first before the kids are grown. Planning for that means organizing other parts of my life, like food storage and other necessities.
7. Open the mail when it arrives. I have in the past had the bad habit of letting mail age a bit before I opened it. Not a good plan.
8. Check your bank balance every day. Maybe more than once. Mike does this; I do it sometimes (like 3-4 times a week). It lets us catch ourselves before we do something stupid and also means that we just don't lug a bunch of extra money around in checking when we could move it to savings.
9.Online bill pay for recurring expenses you aren't likely to dispute. Like the gas bill. We do all our bills online, although we still receive many in the mail (see #7).
10. Have only one brand. Ann mentioned this, too. I know what crackers my family eats. There are three cereals and we rotate them. I buy canned, not frozen green beans. I buy frozen, not canned peas. I buy this brand of toothpaste and that brand of socks. I don't have to do a lot of consumer thinking. I've limited myself ahead of time. I even do this with my clothes--I wear jeans and black t-shirts every day. No matter what. I don't have to think about it anymore. So I can spend that time blogging. Or cleaning off the computer table...
1. De-clutter. Duh. I'm sitting at a computer desk that has on it: a bottle of lotion, two phones, a camera, binoculars, a screwdriver, numerous pencils that need sharpening, my extended warranty on the washing machine, an eyeglass cleaning cloth, a photo of my kids, a netflix DVD, two girl notebooks, a coffee mug, and embroidery floss. This is not a good way to live. All these things have homes in my house. I should deal with this...
2. Keep things where they are used. My coffee maker sits next to my coffee beans and grinder and filters and mugs. This is why I hate laundry: nothing is where it needs to be. Machines, ironing board, dirty clothing, etc--all over the place.
3. Make thy bed. Every morning. We have a down comforter that I just have to pull across. When I do, it makes my whole day more organized, every time I walk past.
4. My father's advice: put things back. The girls are especially bad at this...but Mike and strive to compete, let me tell you. My sewing/guest room two days before Christmas? Terrifying.
5. Back up everything on your computer that you can't replace and wouldn't want to lose (like photos!!). We do this. Just not often enough and it's time to do it again.
6. Have an emergency plan. Working on this in 2011. How to shelter in place when we don't have heat? How to leave on a moment's notice? Probably never need to do the second one, but will almost definitely need to do the first before the kids are grown. Planning for that means organizing other parts of my life, like food storage and other necessities.
7. Open the mail when it arrives. I have in the past had the bad habit of letting mail age a bit before I opened it. Not a good plan.
8. Check your bank balance every day. Maybe more than once. Mike does this; I do it sometimes (like 3-4 times a week). It lets us catch ourselves before we do something stupid and also means that we just don't lug a bunch of extra money around in checking when we could move it to savings.
9.Online bill pay for recurring expenses you aren't likely to dispute. Like the gas bill. We do all our bills online, although we still receive many in the mail (see #7).
10. Have only one brand. Ann mentioned this, too. I know what crackers my family eats. There are three cereals and we rotate them. I buy canned, not frozen green beans. I buy frozen, not canned peas. I buy this brand of toothpaste and that brand of socks. I don't have to do a lot of consumer thinking. I've limited myself ahead of time. I even do this with my clothes--I wear jeans and black t-shirts every day. No matter what. I don't have to think about it anymore. So I can spend that time blogging. Or cleaning off the computer table...
Monday, January 10, 2011
I don't like my dream life
Been waking a lot lately because Leo is in a bad loop of some kind. Maybe he's getting sick. I don't know. He wakes a lot so I wake a lot. And the dreams I'm interrupting? No good.
*I go to jail for 9 years and it's the first day and I'm already smoking.
*The classic math exam dream, only the test is also in French.
*Some sort of strange fight between two of my ex-boyfriends that is resolved only when I agree to take them (both) back. Then I have to call Mike and explain.
*The copier jams. With a dead pigeon.
Yeah, I'll take my real life, thanks very much.
*I go to jail for 9 years and it's the first day and I'm already smoking.
*The classic math exam dream, only the test is also in French.
*Some sort of strange fight between two of my ex-boyfriends that is resolved only when I agree to take them (both) back. Then I have to call Mike and explain.
*The copier jams. With a dead pigeon.
Yeah, I'll take my real life, thanks very much.
Friday, January 07, 2011
Good News, Bad News
The bad news is that a tornado swept through St. Louis last week.
The good news is that it didn't hit us, and that even if it had, we were safe in the basement which let us hear
The bad news is that our washing machine (an early (for American) front loader) was going ka-thunk ka-thunk ka-thunk on the spin cycle, but
The good news is that we plunked down the $80 for the "extended warranty" last year when we used the original warranty for the first time to clean out some hoses and get a tune up.
Because the bad news is that the washer needs $1000 in parts (more than a new washing machine)
But the good news is that all of the parts and labor are covered, which was a good thing for many reasons but especially because
The bad news is that Mike's car broke unexpectedly in traffic last night
The good news is that he found a tow truck easily and got it towed to our mechanic who was able to fit it in today and
The bad news is that he cracked an axle, but
The good news is that it was $375 instead of what we feared it might be (we started doing the calculations for a car payment but this changed that).
The bad news is that it is post-Christmas post-property taxes and we don't have a lot of money right now but
The good news (besides only being $375) is that we have plenty of wiggle room in savings even though
The bad news is that we don't like to dip into it but
The good news is that the vacation coming up later in the winter is already paid for except the upgrade hotel thing we did which we have to pay Mike's coworker with a check probably before we go
The bad news is that we need to live on nothing until next Friday.
The good news is that we don't need anything, really, but
The bad news is that Mike had to pick up a tux for a wedding tomorrow he's in.
The good news is that Elliot is getting married, and getting married in our neighborhood instead of, say, Chicago.
The bad news is that I'll have to be in the same room as his mother but
The good news is that she probably doesn't remember me, care about me, or will even recognize me because she'll be busy being mother of the groom.
The bad news, though, is that we'll have to pay a babysitter for Leo and Maeve (she opted out because weddings are "Boring").
The good news is that I have yeast in the fridge so I can make a pizza crust and have that ready so they won't order pizza.
The bad news is that after our trip later this winter Mike and I really need to sit down and create a tracking spreadsheet of expenses because our kids and lifestyle are getting perhaps a bit pricey and we need to rein it in, but
The good news is that we've done this before and it's worked. And last year had a lot of expenses and we need to let it be a challenge but not lose our minds over it.
So that's my week. I hate money focused weeks. But eh. We're quite fortunate and we have plenty to do and eat and keep warm and Mike has a decent job he likes and all will be well.
The good news is that it didn't hit us, and that even if it had, we were safe in the basement which let us hear
The bad news is that our washing machine (an early (for American) front loader) was going ka-thunk ka-thunk ka-thunk on the spin cycle, but
The good news is that we plunked down the $80 for the "extended warranty" last year when we used the original warranty for the first time to clean out some hoses and get a tune up.
Because the bad news is that the washer needs $1000 in parts (more than a new washing machine)
But the good news is that all of the parts and labor are covered, which was a good thing for many reasons but especially because
The bad news is that Mike's car broke unexpectedly in traffic last night
The good news is that he found a tow truck easily and got it towed to our mechanic who was able to fit it in today and
The bad news is that he cracked an axle, but
The good news is that it was $375 instead of what we feared it might be (we started doing the calculations for a car payment but this changed that).
The bad news is that it is post-Christmas post-property taxes and we don't have a lot of money right now but
The good news (besides only being $375) is that we have plenty of wiggle room in savings even though
The bad news is that we don't like to dip into it but
The good news is that the vacation coming up later in the winter is already paid for except the upgrade hotel thing we did which we have to pay Mike's coworker with a check probably before we go
The bad news is that we need to live on nothing until next Friday.
The good news is that we don't need anything, really, but
The bad news is that Mike had to pick up a tux for a wedding tomorrow he's in.
The good news is that Elliot is getting married, and getting married in our neighborhood instead of, say, Chicago.
The bad news is that I'll have to be in the same room as his mother but
The good news is that she probably doesn't remember me, care about me, or will even recognize me because she'll be busy being mother of the groom.
The bad news, though, is that we'll have to pay a babysitter for Leo and Maeve (she opted out because weddings are "Boring").
The good news is that I have yeast in the fridge so I can make a pizza crust and have that ready so they won't order pizza.
The bad news is that after our trip later this winter Mike and I really need to sit down and create a tracking spreadsheet of expenses because our kids and lifestyle are getting perhaps a bit pricey and we need to rein it in, but
The good news is that we've done this before and it's worked. And last year had a lot of expenses and we need to let it be a challenge but not lose our minds over it.
So that's my week. I hate money focused weeks. But eh. We're quite fortunate and we have plenty to do and eat and keep warm and Mike has a decent job he likes and all will be well.
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
Another Ten on Tuesday: My ten favorite blog entries from 2010
Well, maybe a few more than ten. More of a summation of the year...
1. January and February: Leo's Birthday Cake, It's Not That Complicated (about that movie), And the one in which Maeve talks about wishes coming true.
2. March and April: The one where Maeve longs for sea monkeys, What's Going On Right Now, Thoughts on urban poverty and food, My april fool success, the one in which Sophia confuses Michael Jackson with Elvis and makes her teacher sound creepy, Sunbonnet Sue vs Henry Rollins
3. May and June: Cookie Mom is Weird at Camp, My idiotic summer pool woman, my cousin's engagement, and the one where I'm a total bitch about the grade school end of year music program.
4. July and August: Wedding photos, The Bug, Making Sense of Ecclesiastes
5. The rest of the year: Genealogical murder and suicide, Maeve wins at monopoly, Maeve coughs on a stranger, What is girl scouting for? Hats, Maeve is beautiful, Goodbye Amber, and my big sister moment.
1. January and February: Leo's Birthday Cake, It's Not That Complicated (about that movie), And the one in which Maeve talks about wishes coming true.
2. March and April: The one where Maeve longs for sea monkeys, What's Going On Right Now, Thoughts on urban poverty and food, My april fool success, the one in which Sophia confuses Michael Jackson with Elvis and makes her teacher sound creepy, Sunbonnet Sue vs Henry Rollins
3. May and June: Cookie Mom is Weird at Camp, My idiotic summer pool woman, my cousin's engagement, and the one where I'm a total bitch about the grade school end of year music program.
4. July and August: Wedding photos, The Bug, Making Sense of Ecclesiastes
5. The rest of the year: Genealogical murder and suicide, Maeve wins at monopoly, Maeve coughs on a stranger, What is girl scouting for? Hats, Maeve is beautiful, Goodbye Amber, and my big sister moment.
Resolute
Last year I made a public resolution, an off-hand goal, and a private bet with myself.
Public resolution: let people into my lane if they have their turn signals on. This doesn't apply to those jerks who rush up the shoulder to get off the highway faster. This is about people who get caught in the lane on Grand that shuts down mysteriously without warning. The cars with out of state license plates who are lost or confused. Or people who just didn't plan ahead. If you put your blinker on, I'm going to let you in.
I kept this all year. It became just part of who I am. I always do it now. And I find myself a happier driver. Most of the time, people caught in huge long lines of construction mistake traffic are grateful and wave when I let them in. I like that. This was easy to keep because I'd already come to the realization that the highway is not a race. And it makes me happy.
Off-hand goal: I wanted to lose 40 pounds in 2010. I lost 27. I consider this a win. Pretty much any year that ends better on the scale than when it starts? A win. I dropped a jeans size and I suspect a bra size but I'll have to wait until the new bras arrive.
Private bet: I bet myself that I could hold off on yarn purchases all year. My one exception: I had a gift certificate to a local yarn shop and I did spend all but $2.05 of that $75. But that wasn't my money. I didn't buy any yarn this year. And you know what? I didn't miss it.
So now it is 2011.
My off-hand goal is 30 pounds down by the end of the year. I want to put a number there to keep me honest but really, anything smaller than now is, like I said, a win.
I have another private bet with myself. A couple, actually, but I'm keeping those close to the vest at this point. They don't have to do with yarn.
And then I have two resolutions. The first is easy: I will go to the girls' room(s) every day. The past two years, I spend a lot of time yelling from the bottom of their stairs--they are on the 3rd floor. But if I don't see the room every day, it festers into a dung heap as tall as Maeve. Seriously. So I need to visit every day.
The second is more difficult, maybe. But like the turn signal one, I think I'll be happier if I do it. I'm not getting drunk this year. I know where the line is and I'm going to stay on this side. I might have two glasses of red wine with a meal, but if I'm at a party or mah jongg or after a worship commission meeting or camping or whatever, it's one drink and that's plenty for me, thanks.
I came to this realization when Maeve had her seizure and I was the only one who knew what to do. What if it had been on the weekend I had mah jongg at my house and I let myself get so drunk on white russians? What the hell would have happened? I was the adult who knew what to do, and if I'd been incapacitated during a seizure, it could be dangerous. And Sophia would, in 15 years, get to tell her fiance about the night her mother was too drunk to call 911. You know? Shitty stuff. I don't drink often and I stop when I want to (I've quit drinking for 3 years at a stretch before, and I have often had one-drink nights; I never drank while pregnant and rarely while nursing). But I have let myself go, knowing what was coming. That's fine when there's nobody depending on you to be there. But I am not in that position anymore and I need to rein it in. I can't be that mom. So 2011 is the year I don't have more than one.
So here it goes.
Public resolution: let people into my lane if they have their turn signals on. This doesn't apply to those jerks who rush up the shoulder to get off the highway faster. This is about people who get caught in the lane on Grand that shuts down mysteriously without warning. The cars with out of state license plates who are lost or confused. Or people who just didn't plan ahead. If you put your blinker on, I'm going to let you in.
I kept this all year. It became just part of who I am. I always do it now. And I find myself a happier driver. Most of the time, people caught in huge long lines of construction mistake traffic are grateful and wave when I let them in. I like that. This was easy to keep because I'd already come to the realization that the highway is not a race. And it makes me happy.
Off-hand goal: I wanted to lose 40 pounds in 2010. I lost 27. I consider this a win. Pretty much any year that ends better on the scale than when it starts? A win. I dropped a jeans size and I suspect a bra size but I'll have to wait until the new bras arrive.
Private bet: I bet myself that I could hold off on yarn purchases all year. My one exception: I had a gift certificate to a local yarn shop and I did spend all but $2.05 of that $75. But that wasn't my money. I didn't buy any yarn this year. And you know what? I didn't miss it.
So now it is 2011.
My off-hand goal is 30 pounds down by the end of the year. I want to put a number there to keep me honest but really, anything smaller than now is, like I said, a win.
I have another private bet with myself. A couple, actually, but I'm keeping those close to the vest at this point. They don't have to do with yarn.
And then I have two resolutions. The first is easy: I will go to the girls' room(s) every day. The past two years, I spend a lot of time yelling from the bottom of their stairs--they are on the 3rd floor. But if I don't see the room every day, it festers into a dung heap as tall as Maeve. Seriously. So I need to visit every day.
The second is more difficult, maybe. But like the turn signal one, I think I'll be happier if I do it. I'm not getting drunk this year. I know where the line is and I'm going to stay on this side. I might have two glasses of red wine with a meal, but if I'm at a party or mah jongg or after a worship commission meeting or camping or whatever, it's one drink and that's plenty for me, thanks.
I came to this realization when Maeve had her seizure and I was the only one who knew what to do. What if it had been on the weekend I had mah jongg at my house and I let myself get so drunk on white russians? What the hell would have happened? I was the adult who knew what to do, and if I'd been incapacitated during a seizure, it could be dangerous. And Sophia would, in 15 years, get to tell her fiance about the night her mother was too drunk to call 911. You know? Shitty stuff. I don't drink often and I stop when I want to (I've quit drinking for 3 years at a stretch before, and I have often had one-drink nights; I never drank while pregnant and rarely while nursing). But I have let myself go, knowing what was coming. That's fine when there's nobody depending on you to be there. But I am not in that position anymore and I need to rein it in. I can't be that mom. So 2011 is the year I don't have more than one.
So here it goes.
Ten on Tuesday: 10 Things I Wouldn't Want to Live Without
I've been advised that people are not things. Just things here:
1. Modern dentistry. Without a second thought. Although including it here maybe makes this list a bit dire in tone...
2. The ability to communicate over long distances. Phones, email, ham radio, whatever.
3. Ok, you know what? This list is too dire. I keep thinking about antibiotics and modern plumbing and ability to cook food indoors. So I'm going to change it. Starting over:
Ten Items I'm Glad I Possess:
1. Wool socks
2. My camera
3. My 1965 stove
4. My Mazda 5
5. The dresser in my living room that Mike's great-grandfather built.
6. A front-load washing machine
7. The orthotics I put in my shoes so I'm not crippled by pain...
8. the Aeropress I got for Christmas!
9. Blue eyes
10. An address in St. Louis City
Whew.
1. Modern dentistry. Without a second thought. Although including it here maybe makes this list a bit dire in tone...
2. The ability to communicate over long distances. Phones, email, ham radio, whatever.
3. Ok, you know what? This list is too dire. I keep thinking about antibiotics and modern plumbing and ability to cook food indoors. So I'm going to change it. Starting over:
Ten Items I'm Glad I Possess:
1. Wool socks
2. My camera
3. My 1965 stove
4. My Mazda 5
5. The dresser in my living room that Mike's great-grandfather built.
6. A front-load washing machine
7. The orthotics I put in my shoes so I'm not crippled by pain...
8. the Aeropress I got for Christmas!
9. Blue eyes
10. An address in St. Louis City
Whew.
Monday, January 03, 2011
Today is Gift Card Monday
At my house at least.
Since the girls were home one more day, we got their room to about 70% or so. Then Mike's brother and his wife Mary came by to deliver the last bits of Christmas (my mother-in-law's house is kind of like Christmas Depot--people bring their gifts for various folks there and they get distributed when they can). Included were three gift certificates for McDonalds, which made Maeve happy and Sophia nonplussed. That, with the barnes and noble cards the girls got, we went to a chicken and fries lunch (Sophia survived with a chocolate shake) and then burned through book money. They went over, just a bit, but I was buying for me, too (Dilbert, of course, DORK, and two books about Down Syndrome for me to cruise through and then pass on to my mother).
And on the way home I doled out a grande latte's worth out of my own starbucks card my brother gave me.
It's weird when you know you've turned a corner, I mean, without having to look behind you to see the point on the grid of your history. Something about being out with kids who didn't act like total monsters, finishing up bits of Christmas, eating food I normally don't let them eat, it just added up to a corner-turning moment. I listened to Guaraldi's "Peppermint Patty" on the way home and let it be evocative.
Since the girls were home one more day, we got their room to about 70% or so. Then Mike's brother and his wife Mary came by to deliver the last bits of Christmas (my mother-in-law's house is kind of like Christmas Depot--people bring their gifts for various folks there and they get distributed when they can). Included were three gift certificates for McDonalds, which made Maeve happy and Sophia nonplussed. That, with the barnes and noble cards the girls got, we went to a chicken and fries lunch (Sophia survived with a chocolate shake) and then burned through book money. They went over, just a bit, but I was buying for me, too (Dilbert, of course, DORK, and two books about Down Syndrome for me to cruise through and then pass on to my mother).
And on the way home I doled out a grande latte's worth out of my own starbucks card my brother gave me.
It's weird when you know you've turned a corner, I mean, without having to look behind you to see the point on the grid of your history. Something about being out with kids who didn't act like total monsters, finishing up bits of Christmas, eating food I normally don't let them eat, it just added up to a corner-turning moment. I listened to Guaraldi's "Peppermint Patty" on the way home and let it be evocative.
Sunday, January 02, 2011
What I'm working on
I have many pictures from Christmas quilting that I need to post. I will. My kids are home YET ANOTHER DAY, however, with a teacher workday keeping them home tomorrow. Therefore Leo's naptime does not belong to me yet, but to the house and the other things that keep falling apart because too many people are home for too long every day these days.
But this is what I'm working on now.
It's all just pinned together (well, I have about 1/7 of it sewn all together complete in rows--it's hard to see how that would happen with this kind of pattern, which is partly why I wanted to do it, for the camouflage effect). It is also brighter than this, considering that I took it in a rather dim room without the flash since I don't like using the flash on fabric and yarn if I can help it. The colors are true, just a tad dimmer than in actuality.
This one is for me. The blocks as I have them laid out on the guest bed cover the top of the full-sized surface. My bed is a queen. I have borders in my head if not in reality just yet. I have 3 yards or so of the original fabric it is cut from. Kind of like the "stack n whack" blocks, or other kaleidoscope trickery in quilting, each hexagon is made up of six identical triangles cut from thicknesses of fabric. But the book that inspired me has the user simply cut rows and then triangles from the rows (through 6 layers, of course), instead of the usual kaleidoscope method that has you fussy-cut interesting patterns to create kaleidoscope blocks that are each beautiful in their own right. This method produces some beautiful blocks, but also some rather plain ones, or odd ones with tiny flecks of color. The goal is to set them together without borders or sashing, like I have it laid out there, to create an overall design. The author urges the use of fabric with bold prints and interesting shapes--but only a few colors so that you don't wind up with lots and lots of different stuff to try to put together.
My fabric is a whooping crane (white) with trees (green) on a black and dark gray background. You can see some of the feathers but for the most part it looks like a bunch of dahlias and sticks. I like it.
I know what I'm naming it, too, but that'll be later. When I say I know, I mean I have the stanza from the song picked out. But not the actual title yet.
But this is what I'm working on now.
It's all just pinned together (well, I have about 1/7 of it sewn all together complete in rows--it's hard to see how that would happen with this kind of pattern, which is partly why I wanted to do it, for the camouflage effect). It is also brighter than this, considering that I took it in a rather dim room without the flash since I don't like using the flash on fabric and yarn if I can help it. The colors are true, just a tad dimmer than in actuality.This one is for me. The blocks as I have them laid out on the guest bed cover the top of the full-sized surface. My bed is a queen. I have borders in my head if not in reality just yet. I have 3 yards or so of the original fabric it is cut from. Kind of like the "stack n whack" blocks, or other kaleidoscope trickery in quilting, each hexagon is made up of six identical triangles cut from thicknesses of fabric. But the book that inspired me has the user simply cut rows and then triangles from the rows (through 6 layers, of course), instead of the usual kaleidoscope method that has you fussy-cut interesting patterns to create kaleidoscope blocks that are each beautiful in their own right. This method produces some beautiful blocks, but also some rather plain ones, or odd ones with tiny flecks of color. The goal is to set them together without borders or sashing, like I have it laid out there, to create an overall design. The author urges the use of fabric with bold prints and interesting shapes--but only a few colors so that you don't wind up with lots and lots of different stuff to try to put together.
My fabric is a whooping crane (white) with trees (green) on a black and dark gray background. You can see some of the feathers but for the most part it looks like a bunch of dahlias and sticks. I like it.
I know what I'm naming it, too, but that'll be later. When I say I know, I mean I have the stanza from the song picked out. But not the actual title yet.
Epiphany House Blessing
and on entering the housethey saw the child with Mary his mother.
They prostrated themselves and did him homage.
Then they opened their treasures
and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod,
they departed for their country by another way.
Saturday, January 01, 2011
Chalking the Door
I wrote this a year ago on Utah Vestibule, but I've had a couple folks ask what I meant so here it is:
I learned of the custom when I was teaching at the school. Our former pastor, Fr. Bill, came by with a box of chalk. I was already in the west-facing classroom so it was my second year. I don't know why he didn't come by the first year. Perhaps he'd only recently become acquainted with the practice, which I cannot find any exact ethnic reference to online (and I haven't gone to try to research it elsewhere, honestly). Is it Orthodox? German? Irish? I don't know. I had never seen it done, but after that first day, I would see it on occasion driving down St. Louis streets.
Bill knocked on the doorframe and stepped into my classroom. It was the middle of the day and my homeroom class--a group of 10 boys and 2 girls--were there for math. He pardoned his interruption and handed me the box of chalk, which I thought was amusing considering how much chalk I went through in a given month as the middle school math teacher in the building. Then, without apology or explanation, he wrote this on the lintel of the door:
20 + C + M + B + 01
Which, of course, looked like an equation to me and I wasn't exactly sure what he was going for. He explained that the past Sunday had been Epiphany and this was the traditional house blessing over doors done on that day (or on the traditional day set for Epiphany, January 6). The 20 and the 01 represented the year (2001); the plus signs were crosses; the CMB were Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar. The traditional names given to the 3 wise men, who of course are not named in the bible and aren't even numbered. But it could also stand for the Latin phrase, Christus Mansionem Benedicat, although I personally think that might be a stretch. Either way, the mark was made above my classroom door.
He did go around the hallway with his box of chalk and repeat the blessing on other doors. And I went home myself with my own chalk from the board tray, got out a ladder, and put it above my own door. I was 3 months pregnant at the time, I realize looking back now.
Rain and snow washed the chalk away after a time, although it created a new tradition for my family and I try to remember as I'm putting away Christmas, that it's time to bless the house. My classroom door, though, was indoors. The weather wasn't going to rinse off the chalk. And knowing the janitorial team, nothing else was, either. It was there the last day I worked in the building.
The school closed two years later. I don't know why I was there, but sometime a few years back before we started the process of trying to sell the building, I was up on that floor again. Some of the doors still had the blessing written above them.
Sometimes I wish our parish had a more traditional Epiphany, although our migration mass is appropriate to the theme. But it might be nice to have the announcement of the date of Easter, for instance, and a blessing of chalk for us all to take home and use to write cryptic messages above our front doors. I haven't done my door yet this year--Epiphany came with the snow and I knew it would all be washed and blown away faster than I could put it up. But I'll get it done during the next few days. A sort of ephemeral mezuzah.
This year, I'm going to get the ladder out tomorrow. January 6 is the traditional date but tomorrow is when the Catholic calendar celebrates Epiphany these days.
I learned of the custom when I was teaching at the school. Our former pastor, Fr. Bill, came by with a box of chalk. I was already in the west-facing classroom so it was my second year. I don't know why he didn't come by the first year. Perhaps he'd only recently become acquainted with the practice, which I cannot find any exact ethnic reference to online (and I haven't gone to try to research it elsewhere, honestly). Is it Orthodox? German? Irish? I don't know. I had never seen it done, but after that first day, I would see it on occasion driving down St. Louis streets.
Bill knocked on the doorframe and stepped into my classroom. It was the middle of the day and my homeroom class--a group of 10 boys and 2 girls--were there for math. He pardoned his interruption and handed me the box of chalk, which I thought was amusing considering how much chalk I went through in a given month as the middle school math teacher in the building. Then, without apology or explanation, he wrote this on the lintel of the door:
20 + C + M + B + 01
Which, of course, looked like an equation to me and I wasn't exactly sure what he was going for. He explained that the past Sunday had been Epiphany and this was the traditional house blessing over doors done on that day (or on the traditional day set for Epiphany, January 6). The 20 and the 01 represented the year (2001); the plus signs were crosses; the CMB were Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar. The traditional names given to the 3 wise men, who of course are not named in the bible and aren't even numbered. But it could also stand for the Latin phrase, Christus Mansionem Benedicat, although I personally think that might be a stretch. Either way, the mark was made above my classroom door.
He did go around the hallway with his box of chalk and repeat the blessing on other doors. And I went home myself with my own chalk from the board tray, got out a ladder, and put it above my own door. I was 3 months pregnant at the time, I realize looking back now.
Rain and snow washed the chalk away after a time, although it created a new tradition for my family and I try to remember as I'm putting away Christmas, that it's time to bless the house. My classroom door, though, was indoors. The weather wasn't going to rinse off the chalk. And knowing the janitorial team, nothing else was, either. It was there the last day I worked in the building.
The school closed two years later. I don't know why I was there, but sometime a few years back before we started the process of trying to sell the building, I was up on that floor again. Some of the doors still had the blessing written above them.
Sometimes I wish our parish had a more traditional Epiphany, although our migration mass is appropriate to the theme. But it might be nice to have the announcement of the date of Easter, for instance, and a blessing of chalk for us all to take home and use to write cryptic messages above our front doors. I haven't done my door yet this year--Epiphany came with the snow and I knew it would all be washed and blown away faster than I could put it up. But I'll get it done during the next few days. A sort of ephemeral mezuzah.
This year, I'm going to get the ladder out tomorrow. January 6 is the traditional date but tomorrow is when the Catholic calendar celebrates Epiphany these days.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
