the softer side of cynical

i'm either a heartburn or a hatchet kind of girl

2012-02-09T22:31:00.000-07:00

I grew up in a moderately charismatic church, and for those of you who don't know what that means, in practice it meant that many in the congregation felt comfortable raising their hands to some degree during the singing part of the service. That's really it: no dancing, snake handling, interrupting the service with loud proclamations of agreement, or flag-waving. Folks would just lift a hand to God while singing.

I now attend a Reformed church, and for those of you who don't know what that means, in practice it means that we take wine with communion every Sunday, and the singing part of the service is about as lively as most funerals. There's more to it than that, of course, but for the purpose of this post, that is the difference between the two churches I've called home.

So I sent an email with the following attachment to my two pastors, the worship director, and the worship coordinator, offering to teach a class to the congregation. It took a great deal of self-control not to send it out to the entire worship team, but look at me: practicing restraint! I'm incredible these days, just on fire.

Click to enlarge.

that's what she said

2012-01-31T21:11:00.000-07:00

A dear friend was non-plussed by my coy reference to a baby rather than naming a specific gender and told me I was being mean for holding out on her.

Aside: I think it's fun to wait for the surprise to look forward to after labor and delivery... but a very close second reason to wait is that it's so profoundly annoying/irritating/horrifying/dismaying to those around me. If Rob had really wanted to know, we'd have found out, but he's taking a "No uterus, no opinion" stance so far. It's really kind of him. And smart.

In response to being told I'm withholding and mean, the following text conversation ensued:

A: You're fun to tease. Look at how uncharacteristically patient I am!
J: Why are you choosing now to be patient?! You really not finding out?
A: LOL. Really don't know. On either count. We didn't know with Blake, and I thought it was fun!
J: You are crazy. That's torture to me, not fun. I'm going to send a bright pink outfit, even if it's a boy. He has to wear it.
A: And I will send you photos to prove it. He'll have been called "Marilla" for most of his short life, might as well dress the part!
J: Definitely. Jenna was called "Jomas" for the 8 months I was pregnant. Good times. Just be sure to blog lots about them too so they resent you for that when they're older. One day Jenna will do a "That's What She Said" when I'm senile.
A: It will serve us right. I figure it's our job as parents to give them things to tell the therapist. Otherwise we've not done a good job, right?
J: Absolutely. Now send a belly picture. I want to see Marilla.
A: Only for you. Got to find a mirror that will work. (Awkward search ensues, where I realize that all our bathroom mirrors are framed and hung too tall for such a thing. I finally grab a full-length mirror I've yet to hang, prop it so that the background immediately behind my bump is a plain wall, and awkwardly angle the mirror and my phone to capture a photo wherein I don't have to bend my knees to fit in the frame. Rob just watched, bemused. And probably confused.)
A: My ass is as big as my tummy.
J: Not true. You are so cute and so small. Love it!! You're the best to send a pic. Made my night.
A: Well, good. Rob and I have a plan to post pics of HIS belly for the first few. I've done nothing but lose weight so far.
J: That's nice for a while, I'm sure, but baby needs those calories. Wish I were there to help. I'm good at eating.
A: My new goal: gestational diabetes.

She concluded by requesting a blog post entitled "Shit Women Say in Labor." We'll see what I can do, because what I remember from last time is that pain of that caliber simply makes me whimper (at least until the drugs kicked in). Course, I wasn't really myself at that time, so Rob may be very very right to be scared for this go-round!

ultrasound today! we're having a...

2012-01-31T18:18:00.000-07:00

As I remarked on Facebook, you never know what else it might be. And I'm not ready for a puppy.

things i'm making

2012-01-30T15:13:00.003-07:00

NOM NOM NOM!

Roasted Cauliflower (believe it or not, super yummy in a nutty, popcorn-y kind of way, and Blake loves it too)

1 head cauliflower, washed and broken into bite-sized florets
Toss with 1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil, 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, and either a few grinds of pepper or 1/2 teaspoon of curry powder.
Turn onto rimmed baking sheet and bake at 475 for 16-18 minutes, turning at least once or twice, until cauliflower is browned in spots.
Serve right away and watch it disappear!
This is our side dish with dinner tonight. YUM.

Artichoke Dip

2 jars of artichoke hearts, drained
1 can of diced green chiles
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1/2 cup shredded Parmesan

Blend gently, then microwave (checking often) until melted. Serve with buttery crackers or a good, crusty bread.

Papaya Salsa & Brie

3 cups diced, peeled, ripe papaya
3/4 cup diced, peeled kiwi
2 T chopped red bell pepper
1 1/2 T minced shallot
1 1/2 T chopped fresh cilantro
1 1/2 T lime juice
1/8 tsp. allspice
1 4 oz round of brie

Toss together the papaya through allspice. Serve over warmed brie with crackers or chips.

foooood, glorious foooooood!

2012-01-28T12:41:00.001-07:00

I unpacked a box last night (while watching Parks & Recreation - Leslie was having a Belgian waffle and I was looking for my waffle maker), and I discovered my stash of cookbooks.

I had saved out a few classics that I (rarely) referred to, or bought one or two since thinning out the condo, but the assortment I rediscovered last night is a veritable treasure trove of good eats, ranging from comfort food and hot dishes from the high plains of Plentywood, Montana and the remoter corners of British Columbia to fancy, schmancy meals prepared at the Chico Hot Springs Resort or recommended by a collection of gourmands from Alberta, Canada. Throw in a Cake Mix Doctor, a thick Williams-Sonoma, a few books catering specifically to cooking with kids, a smattering of recipes that come with various cooking tools (KitchenAid, Crock-Pot, Weber, Pampered Chef, and DeMarle), and that's not even all of them, and I'm going to be WORTHLESS today.

I'm already plotting a gorgonzola/apple quiche, a cinnamon/vanilla bread pudding with a bourbon sauce, and individual egg/cheese/green chili bakes, and Rob's eager to pick a few to try for the grill and the slow cooker.

Essentially, the next grocery bill might make me faint, BUT IT WILL BE SO MUCH FUN! Who wants to come help me cook and eat?!

a little bit of this, a little bit of that

2012-01-25T16:22:00.002-07:00

* I think of bananas as primarily vehicles for Nutella delivery. Or maybe as necessary ingredients in banana-mocha-chocolate-chip muffins. Nothing more.

* My erratic and vague pain seems to be subsiding, with the onset of insomnia! GOOD TIMES! I was waking at about 4:00 or 4:30 every morning, not alert enough to get up, but alert enough to know I wasn't asleep and plenty annoyed by that. I tried to make better choices about my bed time so I'd get more sleep (I usually tuck in around midnight), but it turns out that 4:00 am isn't the magic number. Four hours of sleep total is! After a 10:30 bed time, I woke up at 2:30! I'm continuing to try various things to help me get more good rest, because dropping B off at school and coming home to nap fitfully until noon just isn't cutting it. Neither is passing out cold at 3:00 pm for a few hours.

* Blake lost another tooth! He would love to drop more, but those that remain are not loose, and he declined my offer of a knuckle sandwich to move things along.

* I have a post percolating about a suffering friend and how privileged I've been to walk with her on this road (privileged is a weird word for it, but it really fits best for how I feel about sharing that part of her life), but the insomnia makes whatever insight I have into that process fuzzy and elusive right now.

* Lane should be having a little baby girl at some point today, which is very exciting. Also exciting: I'm very nearly done with the blanket I made for baby Laundry Perrine. And my baby is right now kicking me in a place that feels suspiciously like my own bottom.

* Blake is nonplussed by the name "Marilla" and has put forth his own suggestions: "Sally" if it's a girl, "Chopov" if it's a boy.

* I should have some super-cute family photos to get together for our Valentine this year (might be more of a "Happy Flag Day!" card though, because we're even later than last year!), that includes all three of us in Rob's hammock. We only broke one cord and did not all come tumbling down, which is good. Rob had Matt (our builder/brother-in-law) put 4x4 blocks in between the studs in the office so he (Rob) could string his hammock up there. Just yesterday I went up, expecting to see Rob with headphones on, only to spy an empty chair. I finally found him passed out cold in the hammock. Poor honey, he's had a LONG week.

* Root beer floats are my dessert of choice this week. Jimmy Dean microwaveable breakfast sandwiches are getting me a solid shot of quick protein in the morning, and I ate salad again! Twice! Hurray! I hope to start putting on weight for baby's sake soon, and the half a pan of fudge I've had in the last two days should help. I also plan to switch to whole milk and may begin rubbing butter on myself. Osmosis and such, right?

* Finally, I leave you with this: the magic button. Go ahead. Push it. It's magic!

blerg and derp

2012-01-19T16:03:00.003-07:00

Rob and I went in for a "routine" check-up today that should have taken 30-45 minutes. THREE HOURS LATER, we finally left the hospital. After reciting a litany of symptoms that are vague enough to be frustrating but uncomfortable enough to have affected my life poorly, the doc ordered up a second urinalysis (Nurse: Can you pee again? Me: I'm pregnant. I could have peed five minutes after the first urinalysis.), performed a pelvic exam (poor Rob looked everywhere else he could - have I mentioned that our family practice doc is a man?), and a sonogram.

No bladder or urinary tract infection.

No unusual bacteria of any kind in whatever cultures they performed.

Cervix is nice and thick and long, as opposed to... I'm not really sure. I think he was steering clear of saying anything that hinted he was checking to ensure that my body wasn't preparing for preterm labor. I saw right through that, MISTER!

On the Doppler, Marilla's heartrate was 155 beats per minute. On the sonogram, 135. We got a photo that looks really strange, mostly because baby must have put their opposite hand up by their face. The profile is almost wolfish, it's so long in the chin/mouth area. As usual, it was very reassuring to see an actual baby in there. A wiggle-worm, no less, and I marvel at how little of all that squirting around I feel yet.

So, the good news is that there's really no news. I've continued to lose weight, much like I did when pregnant with Blake, but back then I went from 140 to 130 in the first trimester and promptly starting putting weight back on in my second. I'm now WELL into my second trimester and have, once again, lost a total of 10 pounds from my prepregnancy weight. Thing is, I started out weighing more than I did when I delivered Blake, so I wasn't really worried by this news... I mean, I have the weight to spare, you know? The nurse and doc weren't very happy with that though, so I promised to try harder to find more protein and veggies to scarf down. The vague, frustrating, and uncomfortable symptoms (plus fatigue) are the main reasons I find eating a chore right now, and I'll spare you the details, but I'm no longer nauseous. It's just, well... nothing sounds very good, and I don't feel very good.

Until Rob fries up some bacon and eggs over easy while I melt cheese onto toasted English muffins to wrap around the eggs and tender bacon and then I wish he could make me breakfast every morning.

funnies

2012-01-17T19:23:00.001-07:00

Does he have better things to do?
Yes. Yes, he does.

Do I care?
Nope. This made me happy.

Shit Girls Say 1 & 2

The third one in this series isn't worth watching, but I have seen both of these with Rob more than once, and he laughs because I say so many of these and I die of horror and shame while laughing until I cry because I SAY SO MANY OF THESE! I know many have already seen them, but I'm pretty sure my mom hasn't and will love them. So you all get to enjoy again..

milestones today

2012-01-14T14:35:00.000-07:00

I'm 19 weeks along. That's almost 20 weeks. That's almost half of the total of 40 weeks typically required to bake a baby to perfection. Marilla is fully assembled at this point, she(?) just needs to fluff and get chubby and get longer. And as a reminder, I do not know if we're having a girl. I'm just speaking hopefully and tongue in cheek. Ish.

And in what won't make sense at all, I want to tell you a story about Addie as a gardener. I love to garden. It's one of the few things I can point to any more and say "THAT. That is a hobby of mine." If you looked at my life, you might think that sitting around was also a hobby. I suppose Facebook is a hobby, but it's not one I'll willingly claim. It's more of a substance-abuse thing, and I might need an intervention...

But gardening. I ordered a Burpee catalog, and I'm eagerly awaiting that little delivery of glossy porn, because I have a real yard to play with this year. I may try seeds, but here's the thing with me and seeds: I'm terribly impatient! I have a grow light and a seed tray and I've started plants this way before, but after about a week, I invariably have to take a toothpick or a chopstick and carefully scrape away the top layer of dirt to see if my seeds have sprouted. And then I have to see how close the little plant is to breaking through. It's disruptive to the growing plant and I don't care. I can't help myself. I love to peek!

This last week has been a little scary because I've had some very painful cramping. Painful enough to wake me up, but not accompanied by anything truly panic-inducing like hemorrhaging. Because of how my uterus has relocated things, I can't quite pinpoint what part of my body is cramping. Too low for tummy, possibly too low for uterus, too high for round ligament pain. Intestines? Should I be expecting a painful time on the toilet? When said painful time never arrived, I started wondering what the hell was going on. Because I've only felt Marilla in this past week, I couldn't be certain that I was still feeling baby movement, or if it was gas or or or. So on Tuesday, I went to the doctor and begged for a heartbeat check (it's also been quite a while since my last doctor visit due to the holidays and my doc's schedule). I was reminded of my gardening need: if I could just gently peek inside me and check on that baby, I'd feel so much better.

155 beats per minute later, the doc posited that perhaps I had a touch of a stomach bug and advised warm baths and prunes (see post below). And I've felt Marilla more strongly each day since, in that gut dropping feeling you get on a roller coaster when the ride drops more quickly than your body expects. It's disorienting to physically experience that when you're sitting quite still (see above: alternate hobby), but still wonderfully reassuring.

*****
Blake had his first basketball game this morning! He's in a mini-league with a local church, where they focus on teaching basic skills and glorifying God through their play. His team is the Encouragers, they don't actually keep score, and he made a basket during the game! It was one of those "I'm going to die of all the awkward cuteness" hours, everyone gets equal play time, and the coaches are incredibly patient. He loves it.

*****
I can almost park in the garage.

*****
The orchid Rob gave me for Mother's Day one or two years ago (can't remember which) is about to bloom for the first time since the original blooms were done. Not only have I kept it alive (orchids scare me), but it's thriving! I'm so proud.

got me a little buggy

2012-01-11T22:49:00.002-07:00

I hate grocery shopping when so much can be guessed (wrongly or rightly) about your purchase.

"Yes, this is all I found that I wanted. Prunes. Please just move me along quickly and quietly, and I'll pray the prunes do the same."

in and out

2012-01-09T21:03:00.001-07:00

Marilla has some interesting tastes. She likes spicy, but things that are normally well within my tolerance have my mouth a-burning more than usual, like my own Thai recipes. There are some other strange changes as well. I've decided to chronicle them a la Heidi Klum on Project Runway.

Coke or Pepsi: You're in. The sweet but almost savory taste of you is just exactly right and so very refreshing, despite the fact that I wouldn't even SLUM with you before now, if my original soda of choice was unavailable.

Dr. Pepper: You're out. Cloyingly sweet and almost syrupy, there are very few things I want you to accompany at meal time, and drinking you alone is absolutely unthinkable. I know we've grown up together and you were the source of some real friction between me and big Blake, but just think of how proud he'd be of me now, having forsworn you.

Smarties or Haribo Gummies: You're in. Fruity candy is my favorite! A three-pound bag of gummi bears from World Market? Don't mind if I do. My jaw will be very sore from all the chewy goodness, but it will be the soreness of a good workout. Probably.

Chocolate (including M&Ms) or caramel: You're out. I'm not sure why. I can do a rare and very specific kind of truffle from La Chatelaine, but otherwise I still have Milk Duds in the pantry from before we moved. I made caramels over Christmas. Delicious, melty, chewy caramels that I can easily pass by on my way to my enormous bag of gummi bears, when homemade caramels used to be the bane of my sweet tooth.

Orbit spearmint gum: You're out. Too sweet.

Extra peppermint gum: You're in. Nice and spicy! Too bad I just bought a Costco-sized box of the wrong-flavored Orbit before discovering this. Dammit.

White chocolate mochas: You're out. Too sweet no matter how little white chocolate powder I add. If I skip the powder, I can't drink the bitter brew. WHAT THE HELL?! I LIVED ON THESE!!!

Eggnog lattes: You're in. Or at least you were, when I could still find eggnog. Dammit.

Double 12-oz peppermint white mochas with half the syrup: You're in. Since when do I prefer the taste of Starbucks? Marilla, you done sold out, yo.

Caramel corn: You're out. Too sweet and sticky, but at least good and crunchy.

BBQ potato chips: You're in. I never ever EVER eat potato chips. Until now, apparently. Savory and crunchy and get this bag away from me.

Fruit: You're in. I can't get enough because I actually feel GOOD about you! Yay fruit!

Vegetables: You're out. Marilla and I are going to have some serious words over this, because I LIKE VEGGIES. The few I've been able to steadily abide are edamame, sweet potato fries, broccoli, and artichokes. Nice and starchy. My usual standby, avocados, have been relegated to the dust bin, but I'm just SURE it's because I cannot find good ripe ones, and by the time they are ripe, they are overripe and brown in the depths of my fridge and it's too sad to cut into one and promptly have to throw it away. How do you have nachos without chunks of avocado, I ask you? You don't.

Auf wiedersehen.

this one's for mrs. sherfey

2012-01-07T11:29:00.001-07:00

Sister-in-love, I'm sorry it's almost a month late. :/ You, I'm sure, understand, since Christmas and more visitors and unpacking and a week of total lethargy have happened since taking the photos I was originally to publish for you. Enjoy! (Everyone else: you can enjoy too, but as far as YOU'RE concerned, I'm not late at all!)

Ok everyone, ignore the fact that it's apparently snowing indoors, let's just show Rachel that we are NOT having ANY fun without her. None.


C: I AM smiling. A: No, we're showing Rachel how we miss her. We're frowning. C: Well, I'm doing that too.

Rob's shelf, filled with nerdy things that had Blake distracted every time I sent him upstairs.

The secret door, which has been really fun to show people, who FREAK OUT!

Rob's lair (I hate the term "man cave"), which I love. He can do whatever he likes with the decor up in here, and I never have to see it if I don't want to. Not in frame: the Snuggie, which he is unashamed about loving and wearing while working.

What I married into. It's only a matter of time until Joyce and I are converted to the (wildly expensive) dark side of smart phones.

Cuties, working on a Christmas sticker book.

"Come out, baby!" Sawyer likes to encourage the baby in his momma's tummy to come see him. He now knows to do the same with my tummy, and will also tell you about the baby in HIS tummy.

Careful when wrestling with the Sawdog: he's a bruiser and goes at you head first!

Chatting up a grandparent. He's become such a little dude, and if he's not pacing when he gets on the phone, he holds this pose.

Brekky at the Bedfords' this morning, with friends Joel (left) and Kale (right).

happy new year?

2012-01-01T22:19:00.000-07:00

A friend wrote this, and I've asked permission to repost (haven't actually gotten permission yet, but I'm confident she won't mind, and when she gives permission, I'll tell you her name, if she's okay with that). I've been listless and weary since Christmas, and it only recently occurred to me that it was lead-up to a difficult anniversary for me. While pregnant, no less, and nearing what would have been the arrival of baby Maui. A triple threat! A good reason to move from bed to couch to fridge and back! To paint my toenails because I can still reach them! To get caught up on TV I'm a bit too embarrassed to confess I'm in the midst of! To let Blake play obscene amounts of LEGO Universe while trying very hard not to think very hard about much of anything!

And then I read this. It's just lovely, a word I'm quite fond of lately, but find a better word for it:

2011
We've run a good race, friends.

The trail of the year went through mud,
through forest & field;
over hills, down through valleys.
We stumbled & fell;
and skipped & laughed.
We stopped in fear,
but we always started again.
We didn't give up;
Through the dark night,
there was faith.
We looked through tears
with childlike eyes,
and You saw us.

You say:
"You've run a good race, friend.
Thank you for your faith.
Thank you for your love of Me.
I saw you this year,
I see you now.
I sing over you: Just believe, don't give up.
I'll give you new strength
for this new year."

It's a new year,
it's a new day.
There's Joy coming like a train.

And we sing a new song to start again.
We're following Yeshua, not following religion.
Pressing on toward the prize,
Onward to Zion.

recovering

2011-12-29T13:59:00.002-07:00

I have learned that, though I am eager to host people now that we have room to do it, two near-straight weeks of hosting others (beloved though they are) leaves me spent. I reached a point that I foolishly expressed to my mother and sister:

"I'm ready for everyone to go away and leave me alone... for the dishes to stay done for more than an hour, for the floor to stay swept, to not have to think about what I have that will feed everyone THIS meal."

They were gracious and understanding, sort of. Apparently sweet Momica went to a wedding and told friends she'd become like the smell of a dead fish in my nostrils. Not QUITE a direct quote, MOTHER!

While it's glorious to have space, to welcome friends, and to share in our blessing with others, I think I may have ODed on my first go-round. It's time to weed through the remaining boxes in the garage, find our framed things to hang on the walls, and be ruthless with the alarming number of toys Blake's accumulated. Turns out that, while diligent about the quantity of playthings in our condo, I neglected to keep track of how many boxes of toys were accruing in the garage. We've found almost all of them, and Blake and his cousins have been joyously playing with obscene quantities of superheroes, motorcycles/trucks, John Deere, Transformers, and Star Wars miscellany. I'm about to pour some cold water on all that, because MY WORD.

Third World countries have fewer quality toys than one child with eight grandparents and some awfully indulgent aunts and uncles (pretty sure Rob and I have stayed above the fray, but please don't ask about how the quantity of Legos figures into the equation, because my hypocrisy knows no bounds).

I have photos for you on my camera, waiting to be shared, but first to Costco and the grocery store. Blake's coming down hard, asking if we're doing anything "special" today. Post-Christmas normalcy is a real let-down, but I think I can manage an ice cream cone and a movie, once some of the laundry is done. And one of the benefits of the holidays will be the bag of mint M&Ms that accompany us on our errands.

I might even share with him.

o happy day

2011-12-25T11:37:00.000-07:00

Merry Christmas. I managed to wake before Blake and had some of the candles ready to go. We waited for Rob to roust himself (coffee helped - doesn't it always?), then read the last two days of the Advent calendar preparations and the Scripture to go with them.

Blake made short work of his pile of presents and Rob and I remarked again on the embarrassment of riches bestowed upon us at the end of 2011. After a season of God answering our prayers with "No," or "Not yet," he said "Yes." To everything. All at once. We want to acknowledge his grace with humility and gratitude and be good stewards of all He's entrusted to us.

Blake isn't embarrassed AT ALL and simply wants to put together the approximately 400 Lego sets he got this year (I made the only misstep, accidentally getting him two small sets he already had). Rob's already assembled his new computer chair and sat in it, though he stubbornly refuses to promise that he won't do so nekkid at some point in the future. I'm luxuriating in pretty new wool socks (seriously one of my favorite gifts: I wear holes in them so often and I hate buying socks) and the new music that comes from a fresh iTunes gift card. It's Christmas music, and I'll listen to it gleefully for a while before I put it aside for more timely things.

My folks are coming for the Christmas meal, which we'll host, and the Schuylers will join us too. The candied almonds were made last night, the caramel rolls baked this morning. Caramels were boiled back down and to a higher temperature so I could more easily cut and wrap them last night (the first go-round was too runny). The steaks are marinating, the king crab will arrive with the Myers, and with those two things, I don't really care about anything else we eat today, though the kids may very well slip into quiet little sugar comas.

I love having a home where we can welcome everyone, where the kids can run and play in more places than right under my feet, where the sounds and smells of the joy of Christmas traditions can fill the air as we cultivate the relationships we hold so very dear. There's a fire in the stove, family is on the way, God's in His heaven and all is right with the world, or at least it will be, once I close this computer and focus my attention elsewhere.

Merry Christmas!

love and love and love

2011-12-23T12:48:00.002-07:00

I waited until bedtime to look through two photo albums. What surprised me most was that I had forgotten about big Blake's dimples (they only really came out when he smiled sincerely), and as I paged through photo after photo of his arm or arms around me, I realized I had forgotten how much he loved me. It seems so evident in the pictures, and yet it often feels like a torch I'm carrying alone. I need to remember that he's still loving me from somewhere, because even though the realization made me cry last night, it was also really comforting.

I wasn't in the marriage alone. Just this part.

It was sweet to reminisce, to see all the adventures we had together, and then it was sweet to cuddle into Rob when he got home from work to rewarm my icy feet. My life is so full and so richly blessed. I am peacefully content and one very fortunate woman.

unsentimental, until i wallow in it

2011-12-22T13:23:00.000-07:00

Oh Christmas. Oh! Christmas!

I got married at Christmastime. Today would have been nine years for me and my original Blakie. I loved that it seemed as though everyone all over the city had decorated for OUR day. I bought a huge roll of silver and white wrapping paper to cover bulletin boards in the theater we married in, a roll so big that all our presents have been wrapped with it again this year, as they have been for the last nine years. I had no idea it would last so long, nor that it would outlast my husband. That is disorienting to me.

We used silver, gold, cream, white, and red glass ornaments of many varied sizes as part of the wedding decorations, and I have used them every year since. I love them. The stocking that was his became his son's, and is now Rob's until I have the time and memory to make us a whole new set of four that match. I am ruthlessly unsentimental about many things. Using this stuff may have caused a pang or two the first year or two, but no longer. I see them and love that I have things that are beautiful and that were used on a beautiful day, and I do not notice or miss the things that have broken or vanished over the years. Except that one major "thing" that both broke and vanished, a week after our second anniversary.

I wonder at the shape my sorrow takes as years pass. I do not actively miss Blake the way I used to. Memories are sweet and wistful and can move me to tears, but I'm very much caught up in the present chaos of life. I wonder if we'd know each other now, or what we'd be like as a couple had he lived. Those are usually short roads I do not wander along very long, because they are pointless and often painfully confusing. I trust that, when we get to see one another again, I may be permitted to sucker punch him in the gut (if I still feel like doing so), then hug him for about a hundred years. And I hope that it will simply be a sweet reunion and reintroduction, not a meeting of two who have been long since strangers.

I don't know how God organizes this stuff, but I know it will be perfect. Easy, even, as I introduce one earthly husband to another, which right now makes my gut wrench and my mind spasm with an "ACK! Awkward!"

It's hard to know how to commemorate this day now, too. I do not celebrate it - there's nothing to really celebrate anymore. I do not ignore it - it's a big deal to me. I just make others aware, not for pity, but out of the desire that Daddy Blake never be forgotten, even if the only way people know him is through the lens I've shaped. And I think that this year, I'll even look through our photos, though it will definitely make me cry (pregnancy hormones at this season again - what a roller coaster!). Because I want to, and that seems like a good enough reason for me.

Except then I found the two pics for this post and thought, "OH MY WORD! WE WERE LITTLE TINY BABIES!!!!" My bangs alone might move me to tears.

this is totally how i'd christmas carol

2011-12-13T09:24:00.004-07:00

Found this on 22 Words and couldn't stop laughing.

"First Rhett and Link uploaded themselves singing Christmas carols to YouTube and let YouTube’s auto-captioning guess what they were saying. Then they went caroling again with those captions as the new lyrics.

It’s holiday gold. Merry Charisma Wrist!"

love

2011-12-12T15:14:00.000-07:00

According to one poll, both "Adele" and "Bing" are in the top trending names for 2011. I realize I have no control over this, but it's nice to have a soulful-voiced redhead driving a lovely name, rather than always hearing, "Adele? My grandmother's name is Adele!" And "Bing" apparently hearkens back to Rat Pack days, where dapper style and well-coifed 'dos were de riguer. I'd like to think both my brother-in-law and I personify these same trends, but maybe I'm over-inflating things a bit?

YES, SIR!

2011-12-11T19:38:00.001-07:00

Video as promised. Sawyer takes some time to warm up to the idea of performing, since he'd apparently rather see the video he hasn't done anything to create yet.

picture post

2011-12-10T10:08:00.001-07:00

This boy is an impossible ham! I think he was proving that he'd eaten everything.

In this one, it was more to do with the fact that he'd missed a spot. All over his face.

There was a big spider outside Sawyer's room, and we heard a whispered commotion: "It's walking towards the door! Blow on it! Blow on it! Keep it out of Sawyer's room!" Sawyer, asleep, was oblivious of the care his brothers and cousins took to prevent a spider entry under his door. Blake eventually arrived with a Kleenex and crushed it.

We had a big gathering for Thanksgiving, and it was so good to see Hans (lower right baldy - love you Hans!) and Aubyn (next photo) after a long time away. They moved to the east coast, so I guess it's understandable.

We were all held captive by Aubyn, back in her family element and chatty as all get out. I've missed that girl.

Grammie bought blocks in the hopes of entertaining boys that range in age from two to over six.

It worked!

Reese got Soy-boy a set of Spiderman jammies to compensate for the twins' Spiderman costumes. HE WAS SO HAPPY! Video of him jumping off the hearth (like Spiderman) to come soon.

The moving has begun! I'm standing in the dining area, facing northwest.

Our magnificently large kitchen!

Dining room. Got to add a tablecloth to our used table - the very thin (but real oak and mahogany) veneer is peeling off in places and making me crazy. My next big project will then be reupholstering the seat covers. I'm nothing if not ambitious with used furniture!

Blake's room. The kid needs a headboard, but he's got what makes life complete: four light sabers.

i should really be in bed

2011-12-01T23:25:00.001-07:00

Today seemed to be a bit of a turning point in my sickness. I'm dosed up on pharmacist-approved-for-pregnancy cold meds, I dragged the humidifier next to me all day long, and I managed to get my hair colored, run a few errands with Blake (being complimented on how well-kept-up my Honda is by the oil change guy made me very proud of myself), and both cook AND EAT dinner. I feel like a rock star, despite the fact that I still have coughs that are almost productive, but not quite, so I cough hard enough and long enough that I actually gag/retch. Super fun times!

A friend asked for a belly pic, but I demurred, since I'm simply thick. There's a belly there, sure, but it's not one that could be sweetly seen as "baby." In fact, I feel like I'm at that stage in pregnancy where folks who do not know I'm knocked up might secretly be wondering if I'm just hitting the bottle a lot more lately. (Side note: Rob is LOVING how long his home brew batches last when I am not helping him to consume them.)

Same friend asked how far along I was, and I blithely answered "nearly 12 weeks," to which she exclaimed she thought it was further. And then I went to my calendar and counted out the weeks and realized that I'm an absolute nimrod at this (my words to her were slightly stronger, but see how I edit for the general public?!). I'm actually nearly 13 weeks.

You may think that being off by a week isn't so bad. I suppose it's not. NOT YET.

When I was pregnant with Blake, I distinctly remember surprising folks that I was still so tiny at five months along - barely showing, even. And then I remember counting again and coming smack to terms with the bald fact that I was merely four months along.

For the life of me, I cannot recall how I got THAT turned around, but I never did go back and correct myself to those friends.

I like to see how big Marilla is in food terms on pregnancy websites, because baby the size of a grape, fig, or lime? ADORABLE!

Baby the size of a medium shrimp?

Ew.

Maybe it's because all the diagrams show the baby curled much like a shrimp, maybe because it's an actual ANIMAL made of protein that they are comparing a tiny baby to, but isn't that just unsettling? Tell me I'm not the only one...

wrapping it up... thirty days of thanks

2011-11-30T23:30:00.001-07:00

November 30

Wrapping up this month of gratitude with that for which I am most thankful: my Redeemer. He lives.

Even though I'm entering my favorite season (have I ever told you I'm a Christmas crack whore? the decorations, the baking, the relationships with family and friends, the entire meaning of the whole thing: I just love it all!) without any outward signs - I won't decorate the condo when I'll just have to take it down in a week, and I can't do anything at the house yet - I'm still so in love with this time of year. People's hearts seem softer, their outlook on life more kind. Perhaps I tend to paint everything with sunshine and rainbows, except NO I DON'T! Read the post below!

I know that this is not a joyous season for everyone. Maybe that adds to my gratitude. I've been saved from so much, and I'm not unaware of the suffering in this world. I have even tasted some of it. What makes it all bearable is that this is not my home, my hope is not here, I am just a stranger in this land. I know a woman who used big Blake's death to convince her that there was no God, and I shake my head in disbelief that a heart could go there.

Without my Jesus, what have I left? I certainly don't always love my circumstances, but the idea that I know better than the Author of the universe is awfully proud - and, well, I struggle with that, at times too. I'm so glad that I do not have to understand it all on this messy earth. I do not have to wrap my tiny little head around the profound pain that exists in a fallen world. All I can really do is cling to the Lord, my Rock and my Salvation, and trust that HE IS GOOD. I wish I were braver to share this need with others in person, but I am a wienie, so here you go:

You need Jesus, and He loves you more than you could possibly imagine.

God is good. All the time!

All the time, God is good. I love Him so.

Now I need to go do something involving glitter... you know, for Christmas.

this is how pathetic i am

2011-11-30T14:00:00.001-07:00

A: (weakly, from the couch) Rob?
R: Yep.
A: I just want you to know that I really really love you.
R: (without turning around) I love you too.
A: I just want you to know that. In case I die.
R: (slowly turns to face me) Uh...

For context, the cold I've caught is trying to morph into a chest and sinus infection. I actually feel pretty terrible and have been largely useless for the last three days. Tea is my friend.

grateful for... incredible families

2011-11-29T22:23:00.001-07:00

November 29

I have the privilege to be related, by blood or marriage, to many amazing people. I love them all so very much.

The Morstads/Shortridges/Teipes/Pichettes (and even more outliers), those families of my first love and husband, Blake, have huge spirits and generous hearts. Their tenderness towards our son, their love for me and Rob, their compassion for the limiting factors of our circumstances as poor newlyweds all serve to bless me enormously. I am privileged to be part of a such a widespread and raucously close-knit group of clans.

The Bedfords/Sherfeys, the families of my new love and husband, Rob, have welcomed me and little Blake with arms and hearts as wide as the Montana sky. They share my faith and overlook my faults, with a graciousness and patience that encourages and challenges me often, that I could be more like them. Rob even jokes that he's now the outcast, since they clearly prefer me to him, and really, who am I to argue? The sacrificial love they have shown us time and again in the few short years I have known them has revealed to me how thoroughly God answered my prayer when I asked not only for a new husband who honored Him, but for in-laws that served Christ as well, who would have soft hearts for me and my son and our story.

The Myers/Schuylers/Perrines, the family I grew up in and fought with, and those brought into the fold by marriage to a wild Myers girl (though we've all gotten fairly tame through motherhood... well, tame-ish). How fortunate I am that I happen to be related to those precious folks I'd choose to spend time with anyway! My nephews make my heart glad and light, even when they infect me with communicable diseases, because nothing is quite so cute as a two-year-old exclaiming in dismay, "Mom! My boogers are coming out!" when he needs a Kleenex.

Ok, it's a specific kind of cute, especially when I just hacked up a lung and wiped my nose on my sleeve. Again.

Praise God for relationships with open communication and love (nothing drives me quite so batty as poor communication as an avenue for conflict), where even disappointments are handled with grace and kindness, where generosity and humor abounds, where losses are keenly shared and celebrations magnified in kind. I am wealthy beyond my wildest dreams, in all the ways that truly matter.

grateful for... being almost done with this!

2011-11-28T16:21:00.001-07:00

November 27

Yesterday I was grateful to be back in my own bed, even if I wasn't able to sleep much in it. Rob and I both tossed and turned, and I can tell he's getting frustrated by lack of sleep by how violently he rolls over. It reaches a point where I'm genuinely concerned about being popped off the bed by a particularly indignant flop.

November 28

It's hard to feel grateful for much today, because I'm sick as a dog with a nasty cold thanks to one of the ankle biters I was in close quarters with at Thanksgiving. "Cover your mouth!" is a frequent refrain, one often lost on the little shits coughing right in my face. At least I managed to evade the 4-6 hours of puking that tagged Sawyer, Smith, Matt, Blake, and my Mom over the course of a week.

In the absence of anything nice to say, I will leave you with a poem, I'm Thankful, by Jack Prelutsky:

I'm thankful for my baseball bat
I cracked it yesterday
I'm thankful for my chess set
I haven't learned to play
I'm thankful for my mittens
One is missing in the snow
I'm thankful for my hamsters
They escaped a month ago
I'm thankful for my basketball
It sprung another leak
I'm thankful for my parakeet
It bit me twice last week
I'm thankful for my bicycle
I crashed into a tree
I'm thankful for my roller blades
I fell and scratched my knee
I'm thankful for my model plane
It's in a dozen parts
I'm thankful for my target game
I'm sure I'll find the parts
I'm thankful for my bathing suit
It came off in the river
I'm thankful for so many things
except, of course for LIVER!

grateful for... permission

2011-11-26T15:00:00.000-07:00

November 26

Warning: all profanity has been edited out. You know, for the children (and my Grammie). Feel free to sub in the worst words possible when reading aloud.

A little background: My friend H and her hubby have been trying to grow their family. After a suitable amount of time, they sought medical help, subsequently discovering that H suffers from endometriosis (uterine tissue grows places it shouldn't, pulling a woman's reproductive system's organs into strange positions, blocking Fallopian tubes, and making pregnancy difficult to achieve without intervention). Specifically, she had a large "chocolate cyst" on an ovary. She has shared her struggle with me and M, and we've done our best to either buoy her spirits or mourn with her as she grieves specific hopes and dreams for her family.

We were particularly dismayed by the term "chocolate cyst." Apparently named for its appearance, we agreed that men have to be the numbskulls behind such a terrible appellation, trying to ruin chocolate for women ALREADY hurting. H requested a nickname, and M eventually landed on "Destructive Little Fricker," or "DLF," as the monster was going to require H to undergo surgery. The day before surgery, we got a message from M that read:

So I just realized that the proper name for the DLF is exactly seven syllables long. Seven! Know what that means? It's PERFECT for a haiku. I mean, it's begging. BEG-GING. Aaaaaand...my productivity level for the day just went down the tubes. Emails with you and Addie to commence in 3...2...1...

H subsequently gave me permission to publish said haiku. We were very productive in a very specific way. You're welcome or I'm sorry. You pick.

Surgery Day: A Haiku

Free the ovary,
Destructive Little Fricker!
Cut, burn, meet your doom.

Kill and maim no more
Destructive Little Fricker!
Cyst removed, clear tubes.

Baby-making fun,
Destructive Little Fricker,
You will ruin no more.

Get out of my friend,
Destructive Little Fricker!
You are going down.

Now what, DLF?
Dancing 'round you with pitchforks.
Made you our be-yotch.

Go go gadget arms
Excise DLF with care
Leave that ovary

Burn, mother fricker,
You're just medical waste now.
Hannah be set free!

You're Terminated
Destructive Little Fricker
You will not be back. (accompanied by a photo of the Terminator)

Frick you, DFL
No more pain on my left side
I am done with you!

No coffee, Fricker
Preparing for surgery
You've hit my last nerve

Thirsty, no caffeine
Can't have best part of morning
Now I'm mad as hell

No coffee, no food
Still, it's the best day ever
Burn, DLF, burn

There's no knife involved
Going under the robot
Coming up cyborg

No coffee morning
Blowing up Addie's inbox
This is what happens

"I am a pumpkin.
She scraped all my insides out."
Quote from drugged Hannah.

grateful for... the richness of fellowship and rich food

2011-11-26T09:15:00.001-07:00

November 24

So so much to be thankful for, surrounded by family on Thanksgiving. Our family knows and loves Jesus and shares the promise and hope of God's great rescue plan. There's no estrangement or awkwardness when we are together, just delightful laughter and pleasure in sweet company. We are so incredibly wealthy in all the things that matter. Thank you, Lord, for the blessings we enjoy, this day and always. May we never lose sight of Your never failing, never stopping, always and forever love. May Christ always be sweet to us.

November 25

I was most grateful Friday for sleeping in, having filled a plate at dinner the night before and - joyous event - having been able to actually eat it. I may have turned a corner the last few days, starting to feel less green and being able to eat a wider variety of food.

grateful for... being teased

2011-11-23T22:55:00.001-07:00

November 23

I spent a goodly portion of the day on the phone, which is rare for me. I caught up with two sisters-in-love, from two different families, and both conversations were very, very sweet. When I got done with the second, my parents and Rob were seated round the table, having already finished the meal. The moment my butt hit the chair, the three of them leapt up and began chattering loudly into phones they had hidden on their laps, wandering all around the room.

Bewildered, I suddenly realized they had just flash mobbed me, with an execution as synchronized and flawlessly executed as the pros, and burst out laughing.

This snarkiness? THIS IS WHERE I GET IT, PEOPLE. I was taught by the best.

grateful for... inappropriate (and hilarious) haiku

2011-11-22T21:28:00.001-07:00

November 22

Today I am grateful for a friend who trusts me enough to share a painful journey she's on and grateful for another friend who had the brilliant idea to write poetry about it.

Haiku, to be exact, with foul language. If H gives me permission, I will publish edited versions at some point. However, I gather from her husband that she's still loopy from the surgery she underwent earlier today. I would totally ask permission now because of that, but I doubt I'd actually reach her on the phone...

I did ask her husband to ask her silly questions and videotape the responses, but that's just reasonable.

grateful for... not having to pull it myself

2011-11-21T20:44:00.001-07:00

He came prancing into our room this morning, waving about his tooth and holding a Kleenex to his mouth. Both floss and string slid right off yesterday, and simply tugging on it did no good. We finally gave up, and I instructed him to wiggle it a lot and even twist it. Then I ran screaming from the room with my hands over my eyes, then over my ears, then back over my eyes.

I am a big wienie and have not-great memories of my own tooth travails. No fewer than three had to be yanked by the dentist, and neither a needle to the gums nor that crunching sound are never really forgotten. Shudder and gag.

grateful for... a communing family

2011-11-20T20:36:00.001-07:00

November 20

Blake made a public profession of faith and became a communing member of our church family today. I cried.

He has been eager to partake in the Lord's supper, but it took some time for him to reach understanding about what is involved, and the conversations we've had leading up to today have been sweet and funny.

Unfortunately, the children's church class didn't release in time for him to actually HAVE his first communion, but what can you do? We still couldn't be more proud of our little man and his love for Christ.

grateful for... sweet spirits

2011-11-19T17:18:00.001-07:00

November 19

A: I'm so sorry I can't be out there. It smells amazing and yet the smell also turns my stomach.
R: (who was cooking dinner according to my recipe, simply smiled and leaned down to kiss me, then left the bedroom and closed the door)

*****
B: Mmm, your home brew smells GREAT!

*****
B: If you don't put lotion on, your skin will be very very pruney. You need the moist.

*****
A: You are too young to use sarcasm. It's just disrespectful.
B: My dad teached me sarcasm.
A: Impossible.
B: No, he did. You say, "It's a nice day outside," but you don't really mean it.
A: You are too young to use sarcasm.

*****
A: I changed my mind about more TV tonight. We can watch some after you read me a story.
B: Okay.
A: I'm sorry that my being pregnant is being hard on you. I just feel so lousy, and I feel like I'm making your weekends boring.
B: Well, I'm sick too, cuz of my cough. I'm sorry that you feel sick, but I'm happy you're pregnant cuz of the baby.
A: That is the good part in all of this. Dad and I are happy about that too. And I should start to feel better soon.
B: Well, that's good. I love you more than you can imagine, Mom.
A: (sniffling a bit) I love you too...
B: Can we watch Phineas and Ferb?

grateful for... sick days and cozy pants

2011-11-18T20:23:00.001-07:00

November 17

A day with my fellas yesterday. We were all sick, with either a migraine (Rob), sore throat (me), or a low fever and a nasty cough (Blake). We never ever EVER get a full day together. Rob's days off don't coincide with mine or Blake's, so while I see a lot of Rob and a lot of Blake, the three of us are only together in short, sweet bursts.

Even though we were all a bit under the weather, it was really nice to be together, having cocoa or tea, snuggled up in various ways. Blake was playing Wii when Rob was able to rally himself out of bed, and Rob just grabbed another controller and they beat levels and had a great time together. Blake was out of his mind happy, Rob got a bit of a gaming fix, and I loved watching them develop a hobby together. It was a good day.

November 18

Jammie pants. These ones right here. >>>
I might live in them for the rest of my life, which means I either need another pair, or I should do laundry slightly more often. Technically, they are yoga pants, but that's an awful lot more like "work pants" than "jammie pants."

grateful for... progress

2011-11-16T20:48:00.001-07:00

Beautiful slate entry. Door is not yet ready for public use.
Or any use, really. It's nailed shut.

The built-in bookshelf in my office (where Blake will get his own computer).

Blake's bathroom. This is likely as clean as it will EVER be.
True story, from the woman who sat in what he left on the
toilet seat he chose not to lift earlier tonight.
Boys are SO GROSS.

Upstairs guest bathroom, where you will probably be
showering when you come to visit and play with us!

Rob's built-in shelf for books/Blu-Rays...

.... or IS IT?

Dining room, with a door leading to the back deck.

Kitchen, pre-counters and pre-appliances.

Apparently I need to clean my camera lens.

The giant spacious living room! It's under all that building crap.
I think I see our dishwasher and stove hood too.

The spot for the wood-burning stove that I am SO looking forward to,
once the insulation that fell from above is cleared out.

Master bathroom. We picked the granite for here today, and I
must admit, I was pretty laissez-faire about it. Was shown one
color that was big enough for the counter and said "Yes, I'm
sure that will work just fine. Can't bring myself to care
more about it at this point."

The big old master shower, with a bench
and room for two. ;)

grateful for... feeling like crap

2011-11-15T23:10:00.001-07:00

November 15

Pregnancy is pretty easy on me, and I have little to complain about (naturally, that doesn't stop me from doing so). Still, food is not a friend, and it's been a bit of a puzzler about what I'll be able to eat and what will satisfy me for more than five minutes (the two rarely overlap, I'm getting tired of cereal, and I won't let myself eat THAT much ice cream). Marilla the Gorilla likes to punish me for eating the wrong thing, like red meat or coffee, with side effects I will bless you by not describing.

Tonight I had some major gagging and even dry heaves, which is unusual: in my limited experience, I do not throw up in my pregnancies. I am green around the gills and find eating a chore and still feel pretty miserable, but do not need to actually hug any porcelain. So tonight, as I made Blake's dinner while holding my breath, then promptly went into another room while he ate so I could open a window, lie down, and breathe through my mouth, all I could think the whole time was: I'm so glad I feel this badly.

It means Marilla the Gorilla is most likely still going strong, so it's reassuring in its own odd little way. And for that, I'm grateful. Reassurance is quite dear to me about this little bun in my oven, who is about the size of a kumquat this week.

grateful for... robrob my hearthRob

2011-11-14T21:33:00.001-07:00

November 14

This goofball right here. I love him so. Even when he drives me batty.

grateful for... cute hats and good friends

2011-11-13T20:07:00.001-07:00

I took yesterday off. Actually, I was busybusybusy all day with family, which was lovely and is a post for another day of gratitude. I love my family... they are so great.

November 12 and 13

Today I am grateful for the cute hat seen in this photo. I get complimented on it EVERY TIME I wear it, which, because I get complimented on it, is quite often, as you may imagine. I even wore it to church today, like a heathen, and was complimented twice. Holy people are not always immune to flattery or vanity, thank goodness.

I am also grateful for the dear friend seen in this photo. She came over and we had tea and played Go Fish (twice!) and Candy Land with a certain little mohawk man, and then we sat cozily on the couch and talked about important things and not important things and Kleenex was used and we shared a blanket and it was very good. She and I go way back to when she was my teaching assistant when I took a sign language class. We had mutual friends and enjoyed each other, but her moving back to Bozeman after years spent elsewhere has fostered a kinship I hadn't imagined back when I was a self-involved narcissist in college (some of you may claim that not much has changed given the second paragraph of this post, but I guess it's my story and I'll tell it with whatever slant I want!). She's one of my favorite people, and she accessorizes the hat so nicely in the photo she masterfully took.

grateful for... tiny oranges

2011-11-11T21:45:00.001-07:00

November 11

Today I am grateful for a few things, not least of which is a new friend volunteering to watch Blake while I ran errands, then refusing to take money for the hour or so she played vigorously with my son. During my time out, I grabbed a bag of satsumas, having recently discovered that the tart acidity helps to soothe my tummy. Then I saw a bag of potstickers and grabbed them too.

Are those Eggos in that Costco-sized box? No? Kirkland brand waffles? GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME!

Then I beat a hasty retreat before more of the store found its way into my cart. Though I usually enjoy Costco samples, I had to hold my breath and hustle past them today.

I'm about to enjoy an orange now (third today! tummy soothed AND I will be quite regular!), along with a cup of tea and either something on the telly or a crossword.

grateful for... helping hands

2011-11-10T18:06:00.001-07:00

November 10

I was only half-joking when I asked Rob if we should just delay cleaning for a whole month so we could do one last thorough job when we moved. His enthusiastic response was alarming enough that I promptly cleaned one of the toilets last night. By promptly, I mean I sprayed it down with cleaner at 5:00 and forgot about it until I headed for bed at 11:30 (stupid, I know, I'm trying to break the late night habit). Cleaning a toilet at midnight isn't high on my list of things to do, mostly because cleaning toilets is already pretty darn low on that list.

Today, the same man who would cheerfully live in filth if I let him (I think - we haven't tested the theory since getting married), cheerfully helped me clear the floors, then swept them himself, then mopped them, while I moved furniture back into place and vacuumed. It may have to do with the fact that I lovingly called him the "Mop Master," or perhaps with the fact that I have a habit of touching him inappropriately when asking him to do unpleasant tasks, or maybe with the fact that he daily sees my pathetic attempt at life in the first trimester and took pity on my sorry little act.

Whatever the motivation, a chore that I absolutely despise took no time at all, and even though it's far too cold to pad around barefoot, I know that if I did, my feet wouldn't find the grit of all the random debris that had accumulated since the last time we took care of the floors. He may refuse to clean toilets point blank and unapologetically, but he helps me elsewhere, and it warmed my hard little nauseous heart today.

grateful for... marilla

2011-11-09T12:42:00.001-07:00

November 9

Today I am grateful for the ultrasound that confirmed our little tiny baby is still going strong, making us 9 weeks and 4 days along, with a due date in early June. Remember back when I posted about not being pregnant and being okay with that because of the time it gave me? Yeah, that was written just after a pregnancy test that turned out to be a false negative. Ten days later, it was very, very positive, and I entered the wonderfully nervous world of "Please let this one take!"

I started calling her "Marilla," much to Rob's chagrin, speaking in faith and prophecy that the little girl Lane is having will usher in a wave of baby girls for me and my sisters. Because it's about time we had a break from all those penises (husbands, I don't mean you...).

We've now had two ultrasounds - one at a crisis pregnancy center after I assured them it was no crisis - and one today, after the doctor couldn't find the heartbeat externally (he wasn't worried at all - it was quite early - but it made me anxious) and wasn't confident that my dating for the gestational age was accurate (because of the weird things my body did in the three cycles after the miscarriage, not because I'm an idiot).

Rob promptly texted his family, declaring "We have a live one! 150 beats per second!" which would mean we are having not a baby, but a hummingbird on cocaine. I will love her and squeeze her and pet her and call her Marilla... at least until she actually gets here.

grateful for... better living through chemistry

2011-11-08T12:01:00.003-07:00

November 8

Today I am grateful for ibuprofen. A better night of sleep last night was lovely, but somehow I was left with a tender left temple that had me stretched on the couch with my eyes closed all morning. So today I am thankful for drugs to help alleviate such things, and a delicious chai brought by my sister with her dear youngest monkey.

grateful for... being appreciated

2011-11-07T12:34:00.001-07:00

November 7

R: You're pretty.
A: Thank you! I don't feel particularly so today. I'm kind of a wreck.
R: Well, your hair looks nice and polished, your make-up is artfully done...
A: (bewildered look) Uh...
R: (getting closer) Or fabulously minimal.
A: Yeah, it's just mascara and powder.
R: Well, it's like I've said, I'm consistently surprised at what a looker I got to marry. I still can't believe I got a pretty one that's smart too. Though sometimes I'm not so sure that "smart" is all that great. You got a mouth on you.
A: I love you too.

grateful for... sunday afternoons

2011-11-06T18:31:00.000-07:00

November 6

I took a 2.5-hour nap. I had some strange dreams, but it was restful, which is what I needed. Blake and I capped that off by watching the Pixar Short Films marathon on ABC Family. I love light-hearted things that make him laugh that hard. I read a few chapters of a book that is good and thought-provoking and tender, but only a few. The writer is a poet, and I find such language contrived and too self-aware (yes, I realize that's a bit hypocritical coming from the writer of this self-indulgent navel-gazing).

I'll polish off my Sunday afternoon with a Sunday evening, working on a sewing project and drinking hot tea to calm my unhappy tummy/body. It's been a pretty decent day, all told.

grateful for... someone to keep me young

2011-11-05T17:58:00.000-06:00

November 5

This guy right here:

grateful for... an involved teacher

2011-11-04T15:29:00.000-06:00

November 4

Today I am especially grateful for a teacher who saw a need in my son and met it. Apparently his impulse control isn't what it could be, despite having fairly strict parents and having already been through years of preschool and a year of kindergarten. He was regularly getting in trouble at school for talking out of turn, distracting other students, and being a bit too hands-on with his friends. We're a physical family, so I understand part of that, but where he got the idea that pushing a good friend's head into the drinking fountain was funny is beyond me.

So Mrs. B instituted a behavior chart. There are five specific areas where he can act out and get a check mark for it, and if he gets five marks in one day, it's an automatic parent/teacher conference. The chart comes home with him every day, and so that he'd understand our influence and authority extends all the way to school, he has specific consequences for each mark, and specific consequences for no marks (he usually picks Wii time). A mark-free week has yet to happen, but we're close, and I'm thinking a small Lego may be in order to show him that we really value his good behavior. It's also dangerously close to a bribe, but it just so clearly illustrates that good comes from good, so maybe I don't care!

Having a teacher on it enough to give him a warning and a simple mark makes things easier for her, I'm sure. It shows him exactly what he was doing that was not okay, and it gives him things to work towards (she's a fan of special stickers for good behavior). Rob and I can encourage him to obey in more specific ways, and I know what's going on when he's out of my range of vision.

And the best part (to me, at least)? I just heard from Margie, big Blake's mom, that HE had a behavior chart too, and once he realized that disobedience at school was known about at home, he whipped it together right quick. I love knowing that about the child, because the man was so stinkin' self-disciplined that it almost wasn't real!

grateful for... carnal relations

2011-11-03T09:37:00.000-06:00

November 3

Now, bear with me. This is a PG-13 rated post simply because it acknowledges the existence of sex.

I'm really grateful for intimacy with my husband. We had a moment recently where he asked, "Why don't they show THIS in the movies?!" while we both laughed. Needless to say, it wasn't a particularly "sexy" moment, but it was deeply intimate and funny and dear. If you're not laughing when making love to your spouse (and for the record, kids, that's the ONLY sex I advocate: intimacy within the covenental bounds of marriage), you're doing it wrong.

Not to say we're yucking it up the whole time, but the movies do young folks a grave disservice in how they portray the jubilant fun and relationship of sex. It can be bumpy, awkward, and incredibly silly-feeling at first. And as you grow to know and love your spouse, the one committed to you in sickness and in health, you grow less self-conscious about that love handle or stretch mark. A healthy marriage includes a healthy sex life, and both are incredibly safe. You can experiment and know that if things go wildly awry, you'll collapse into a fit of giggles and have fun the entire time. You can enjoy one another, in all the glory and foolishness that accompany the human bodies, just as God intended.

Sex is supposed to be spiritual. That's how it connects you. It's supposed to be fun. And I am really grateful that even when we're not having much of it for one reason or another, Rob and I love it when we do. I truly praise God that He created sex and created us one for the other.

an attitude of gratitude

2011-11-02T13:19:00.002-06:00

Two friends have mentioned using their blogs/social media to give thanks for something each day of November (you know, in honor of THANKSgiving). It's early in the month yet, I'm only a day behind, so I'm jumping in.

November 1

I am grateful for the blissful extension of a real fall in Bozeman. Crisp nights have given way to sunny days that have a bite to them. We've been able to enjoy leaves actually changing color and falling off trees naturally, as opposed to what we've had in the past: a sharp frost so early that the green leaves simply went limp, then the trees seemed to disgustedly shudder them off to fall in sodden, sullen, moldy piles.

Blake will play out in our small common-area yard past dark, waiting to be called in for dinner while fighting imaginary monsters and bad guys. I only just threw away the last of the snapdragons and marigolds that had persistently held on thus far. Winter likes to come early and linger overlong, so a late fall is always welcome!

It's just an additional bonus that Blake's costume for Halloween didn't need to accommodate his winter coat. One year back in junior high, I went out as a cardboard box in the hopes it would keep me warmer. I piled on the layers underneath, wrote "This end up" in red lipliner on my forehead, and didn't really think arm holes through sufficiently. But boy, was I warm!

November 2

I am grateful for KitKats. There's a parent tax on all the good candy Blake brought home, and right now, I am enjoying a little break with some chocolatey wafer goodness. I don't tax the bad candy, but he got blessedly little of that this year, so I'm in clover!

nothing much to say, here's a recipe

2011-10-30T18:26:00.000-06:00

Seems like the only things going on around here are just daily enough that there's not much to remark upon. Rob and I are praying that God would bring us family friends with kids Blake's age to cultivate deeper relationships with. Rob's work was just bought out by Oracle, which likely doesn't threaten his job itself, but it could dramatically change the culture of the company (which is currently well-loved) to something profoundly more bureaucratic. The house is coming along rapidly, and I'm getting annoyed by all the decisions I have to pretend to care far more about than I actually do. Then Rob will make a design decision and tell me about it, and I'll promptly change it.

I guess I had it coming to have it all foisted upon me, but that doesn't mean I'm very happy about it!

Ok, I'm kind of happy about it. I love control! But I'm still nervous that we'll break a lot of dishes on these granite counters that everyone seems to think are so special. And I'm hoping that all the decisions I'm making come together into a cohesive vision of a house that doesn't look like a blind person chose the counters/cabinets/tile/floors. Regardless of how it looks, the sheer space will be transformative, and I cannot WAIT to have more than two or three guests at a time. I'm already planning parties with a friend for whom parties are a specialty... she has way better ideas than I do. I'd make a casserole and put out a six-pack, she has thematic food and drink, decorations, and goodie bags.

I've hit a fall-to-winter wall that's had me either fully ill or borderline ill for weeks now. I can't decide if it's the transition in weather, poor sleep, or a child that probably brings home every bug known to man (tsk, public schools...), but I'm ready to feel well again. Making comfort food is only helping a little bit, but I'm not certain I'll still be able to button my pants in another month!

Comfort Corn Chowder

5 slices bacon, cooked and crumbled
1 medium onion, thinly sliced and separated into rings
2 cups frozen corn
2 cups diced cooked potatoes
1 can cream of mushroom soup (this is about the ONLY thing I'll put cream of anything soup into anymore)
2 1/2 cups of milk
salt and pepper to taste (about 1/2 tsp of each)

Cook onions in bacon fat until translucent. Put everything but the bacon into a pot and heat through, but do not boil. Serve with crumbled bacon (and make sure a touch of the bacon fat makes its way in there too, when you dump in the onions), crusty bread, and good beer.

house update

2011-10-19T18:40:00.004-06:00

Facing the north (that's the back porch beam) with interior walls raised.

The front porch beams in the sunset.

The roof going up (looking west, the small window on the left is the master bathroom).

View of the back porch.

Nearly the same view. Now there's siding, stain on the porch beams, a chimney.

From the corner, aimed at our front porch.

Prepped for sheetrock, insulated, blessings written. This is taken from the dining room, looking through the living room towards the front door.

Also from the dining room, looking into the kitchen.

Some blessings and Blake's excited pronouncement (I get my own computer).

Rob's blessing, written over where our bed will be. I'm not sure he really means it. Or maybe I hope not...

A taste of what's to come. Paint's on!

nuff said

2011-10-18T23:33:00.000-06:00

They have Whoopie Cushions (which the twins call "Whooshie Cushies"). And I'm sorry that my finger is over the microphone, but I'm sure you get the idea.

I sent them around three of the condos to collect "Lawn Maintenance" picks that would otherwise blow away and turn into litter, with the instruction to hold hands crossing the parking lot. Aren't they dear? My heart is full for the small men for whom I'm privileged to be auntie and mother.

that's what he said

2011-10-13T20:11:00.004-06:00

A: We need to call auntie Lane tomorrow. It's her birthday!
B: It is?
A: Yep, she's going to be 28 years old.
B: Wow.
A: Why do you say that?
B: Because it's so old.
A: Wow.

*****
A: What was the best part of your day today?
B: School.
A: Really? I thought you didn't want to go to school! You tell me that every morning.
B: I love school! I just love you more and want to be with you all day.

*****
"Don't interrupt."
The blessing Blake wrote on the wall next to his small desk, intended for his brother or sister.

*****
"Ry's donuts... Keep going... That should do it."
The blessing my friend wrote across four studs in our pantry, intended for Rob, I'm sure.

*****
M: You going to have enough furniture to fill this monster? (referring to the new house)
A: Not even close. Blake will probably have multiple rooms in which to turn cartwheels for a while.

being very brave together

2011-10-12T15:24:00.001-06:00

It's taken me some time to write about this, for a number of reasons, not least of which is that, in over two weeks of being ill, I've tried to be very gentle with myself. The laundry, however, would NOT be put off any longer. Nor the floors. I've managed to squeeze my eyes shut in terms of the bathrooms, but denial only gets me so far (about two weeks' worth, as it turns out!).

I buried big Blake's ashes last Saturday. With help, because though I've known what I wanted to do with them for about three years now, that doesn't always translate to action. Especially when it seems like a big fat scary thing. Months ago, Rob asked how I felt about not moving Blake to the new house. I was confused for just a beat, until I realized he wasn't talking about the child who calls him "Dad," but the box filled with ashes in our closet. I agreed and quietly cried myself to sleep. Clearly, I needed the outside impetus to actually DO something, but it was still a hard thing to think about.

Inviting two friends, Terra and Kellie, we found a weekend that worked for all three of us. On Friday night, I pulled down the box and a figurine that I planned to bury with the ashes (more on that later). Blake was interested in seeing things, and he LOVED the figurine, which was funny because his dad really didn't like it (again, more on that later). Turns out ashes look like very fine grey dust with bigger particles, like kitty litter or sand, incorporated. It wasn't very scary, though upon wiggling the tightly-packed plastic bag free of the wooden box, I discovered a few pinprick holes, and very fine grey dust drifted down my pant leg, onto my foot, and across the coffee table.

I paused, then giggled a little and decided to wipe everything up with a dish cloth while praying God would give me an easy heart about this. Putting the slightly damaged bag into a bigger bag, I set the ashes and figurine on the desk, rounded up a backpack, two trowels, a book, and my camera, then sat and looked at the ashes and wondered at how a 200-pound body can be reduced to 20-30 pounds of dust. I remembered seeing big Blake's body in the casket and knowing instantly that while the container of my husband was there, my husband was gone. Of course, when I called Molly that night to let her know how I'd done, I simply said "It wasn't him." She gasped, and I immediately realized my mistake. "Oh no! They showed me the right casket. But he wasn't there. He's gone. And I never want to see the body without him again."

I looked over at a bag full of ashes and I cried and cried and cried, feeling abandoned by the man I loved.

When I woke up on Saturday, I was reminded that I am not a pretty crier, especially if I do so until sleep overtakes me. I looked like I'd been punched in the face, so I just washed that face and put a hat on. My friends came over and we got started (with coffee first, naturally). Kellie took the first turn with the heavy backpack, and she and I quickly realized that Terra - hiking-stick-toting-Terra - was going to whip our tails on this 4.5-miler. We were rained on as we laughed our way up the foothills, seeing bear sign and and one older couple running with no supportive garments under their Spandex.

Upon reaching the top, we rested on the bench for a while, and I told them parts of the story about how Blake had proposed there. We walked off-trail a short ways, found a patch of soft ground, and dug. I nestled the figurine at the bottom, and now you get that story.

For our wedding, we were given a figurine of a couple embracing (let's call it a Precious Moments figurine, on the off chance that the giver reads this, identifies the gift, and is hurt). Blake thought it was awful, not his taste at all. At the time, I liked it and displayed it defiantly. He would occasionally come up behind me and arrange my arms in the same way as the figurine, holding me in the same way the man in the figurine was standing. It became our joke. I stopped displaying it some time after his death, but didn't know what else to do with it. When the idea of what to do with the ashes crystallized for me, I knew I had to bury it with them. Because when I get to see Blake again in glory, we're going to laugh about this inside joke for all eternity. He's totally in on it, and that aspect of the weekend made me smile every time I thought about it.

I poured out the ashes over top, we held hands and prayed, and covered everything over with dirt. At Terra's suggestion from a few days earlier, I found twelve small stones and pressed them into the dirt, raising (well, sort of - they are quite small) my Ebenezer to remind me of God's faithfulness and help to me.

Joshua 4: 5-7 (emphasis mine)
So Joshua called the twelve men whom he had appointed from the sons of Israel, one man from each tribe; and Joshua said to them, “Cross again to the ark of the LORD your God into the middle of the Jordan, and each of you take up a stone on his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the sons of Israel. Let this be a sign among you, so that when your children ask later, saying, ‘What do these stones mean to you?’ then you shall say to them, ‘Because the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the LORD; when it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off.’ So these stones shall become a memorial to the sons of Israel forever.”

We sat at the bench again, and I read them "Dragons and Giants," from Frog and Toad Together, which ends:

"Frog, I am glad to have a brave friend like you," said Toad. He jumped into bed and pulled the covers over his head.

"And I am happy to know a brave person like you, Toad," said Frog. He jumped into the closet and shut the door.

Toad stayed in the bed, and Frog stayed in the closet. They stayed there for a long time, just feeling very brave together.

And I thanked them for being very brave with me, and for helping me to write the ending to another chapter in my grief.

it's not a tattoo

2011-10-07T21:42:00.001-06:00

I have a hard day planned tomorrow, and I won't divulge details until it's done. My own family doesn't know what's going on (although one friend is up from Billings and another conveniently lives here, and they know because they are joining me).

Any prayers for strength, healing, and humor would be deeply appreciated. And don't worry: I'll take pictures and tell you ALL ABOUT IT.

That's what I do. This is practically my journal.

diy

2011-10-07T14:00:00.000-06:00

The twins find Otter Pops too cold to hold and eat. I bought some felt a while back to make things like this:

It's supposed to go on a hair band, so I can put it on the end of my braid and dress up my "I didn't shower today" look. I haven't gotten around to the hand sewing part - everything else was done with hot glue!

So, I got this idea from the interwebs several months ago, and it turns out that whipping felt into quick Otter Pop handles is super-fast-easy. Especially because my sewing machine was already in from the garage (I'm pretending to be a quilter. Eventually. Maybe.).

Ta da! Now the boys can all hold their Otter Pops and eat them too (I made one for Blake and Sawyer too, because to do otherwise is just foolish). I'll try to get a photo of them in use here soon, if the weather holds long enough that frozen sugar water still sounds like a fun treat to small people.

the merry widows club

2011-10-06T21:49:00.000-06:00

I've met quite a few new widows in the nearly seven years since big Blake died. Of these, one turned into an online correspondence that has since fizzled, one is a blossoming friendship, and another has great potential (all the rest have come to precisely... nothing - at least nothing of which I'm aware).

My blossoming friendship is with Noel, a stylist who lives in Denver but who grew up in Billings. She came to town this last weekend and carved out a significant chunk of time to spend with me and the other friend (who she knows better than I do), Erin. I warned them that I'd christened us "The Merry Widows."

No one wants to join our club, because the price is much too high. EVERYONE wants to hang out with us because we're SO EFFING MERRY!

And for three women who have the common thread of being widowed young, who love Jesus, and who have great senses of humor and tragedy, it's remarkable how we differ. For example:

Noel is childless and brings her service dog, Arthur, everywhere. He is very well behaved, and sometimes the same can be said of her.
Erin has two small children who knew their father as well as two small children can, and who mourn his absence.
I have a child who never knew his father and have since remarried.

There is a little that each of us envy of the other: the childlessness (seems easier), the kids knowing the father (seems more complete), the kid not knowing the father (seems easier). Really, none of us would trade our sorrow for another's, because the sorrow you know is less frightening.

We covered so much ground, laughed a great deal, swore some, drank some, and generally had a rip-roaring time. It's the first time I had meaningful time with other widows that are also peers. I hate that there are enough for even a small club. I love that we have the shelter of each other. We will never walk alone.

gone viral

2011-10-05T12:46:00.002-06:00

Despite my big bad antibiotics, I'm not fully better yet (sad face). I'm beginning to think this thing is viral, the doc never did any swab to test for that, and now I've just taken a massive load of powerful drugs that have done absolutely nothing. Well, they may have done something, but I won't tell you what other than that it involves the delicate balance of a woman's body being thrown way off-kilter.

I FEEL SO PRETTY!

The house is coming along so quickly, it takes my breath away. We've invited local friends to join us there this evening to write blessings on the unfinished surfaces, because I'm not sure how much longer they will remain unfinished, and a Sharpie blessing on our granite counters or new cabinets just won't fly. Current external changes are shingles on the roof and siding going up. We've made what feels like a million decisions and I think there are even more to be made, which makes me feel tired and like snapping "GRAY! Just go with gray EVERYTHING!" The names for colors are a little silly anyway. Our exterior is going to be Popular Gray, Stillwater, and Mountain Road, and I bet you still cannot visualize a damn thing!

We met the new owners of the condo on Friday, and they are lovely, lovely people. In fact, Tom rang the doorbell, then stepped aside so that Ingrid and I could throw our arms around each others' necks upon me answering. We had coffee with them, they left us with a sweet thank-you note and a little gift for Blake that included three new LEGO minifigures, and I sent them with a few jars of chokecherry jelly. Apparently, when they bought furniture for this place (which must include several bunk beds for all the family they anticipate hosting), they had to include the same red club chair that we bought simply for staging.

That makes me feel so warm and fuzzy and stuff. As in, I DO have taste!

Blake cried himself to sleep last night for the sorrow of his good friend, Cooper, moving away at the end of the week. They had a great afternoon of ice cream, Wii, and mock battles in the yard, and his sobs after bedtime just broke my heart. "He's the best friend I've ever had," and "I'm just so sad that I won't be able to play with his toys again, because I'm pretty sure he has cooler toys than I do," both came out between gulps of air and tears. It's hard to know what to say that will help and not hurt his feelings. My poor little buddy.

And finally, the first meeting of the Merry Widows was held this weekend. I even have a picture. But that will have to wait. My tummy is rumbling in hunger and the photo is still on my camera and this post is long enough already. Hope the curiosity doesn't just eat you up inside!

UPDATE a bit pathetic

2011-09-29T15:00:00.000-06:00

I need help.

I'm rather ill, alternately coughing up a lung or blowing my brains out via my nose. I got B to school, then slept until after 1:00 pm today, missing half of his Fun Run in the process.

The owners of the condo are coming by with their parents tomorrow afternoon, and it's definitely looking "lived in" at the moment.

Can anyone help with taking B or just tidying or even feeding us?

*****

I ordered pizza. A friend is taking B tomorrow after school. Another friend came by to help with bedtime and tidying up. I've been diagnosed with an airway infection and am now on heavy antibiotics and an inhaler (which makes me jittery). I'm to double my intake of water (it was already good) and get more rest.

I slept until 1:00 PM today after dropping Blake off at school. Not sure how much more I can actually get, but I'm willing to try. Those naps won't take themselves!

for the curious who won't ask

2011-09-25T18:11:00.001-06:00

Nope, we're not pregnant yet. My silence on the subject doesn't necessarily mean that we are. I wrote a longer post just now that was WAY TOO MUCH information for all but a very few friends, so suffice it to say that my body is still working out what normal looks like.

This could take a very, very long time.

HAHA! It's funny if I say it, but mean if you do. And still, marvel at my restraint. I do have boundaries!

Right now, I'm trying to see it as each month God makes us wait is one more month of time: time with my job (in a time of transition, this is a big help!), time to help with the house without feeling ill, time to travel to an important graduation in May without risking labor and delivery half-way there. As one friend put it, no matter when, the time will be just right. She's a voice of wisdom for me, for she was barren for two years after her miscarriage (after two healthy kids and even with fertility treatment). It was really difficult for her. She's now well into her second trimester and sees how any earlier would have been too early. So that's how I want to see it: not as I think the timing is right, but as God sees the timing is perfect. He's much better at this sort of thing than I am anyway!

My new mindset might not keep me from taking pregnancy tests, though.

Just in case.

2011-09-24T21:38:00.000-06:00

This made me mildly uncomfortable, then made me laugh and laugh.

lyrics are especially tough

2011-09-23T16:39:00.003-06:00

B: I LOVE ROCK N' ROLL! So put another diamond in the juicebox, baby!

*****
B: (muttering: Paint your smile) ON YOUR LIPS!
(muttering again: Blood red nails) ON YOUR BAG OF CHIPS!
Shot through the heart and you're to blame!
You give love A BAD NAME!

*****
A: You know, for the longest time I thought "Rock the Casbah" was actually "Rock the Cats Paw," and I thought it was an unusually sleepy bar to gain such reknown.
R: You're kidding.
A: I wish I was.

*****
B: Mom, can I have Eggo waffles for breakfast?
A: Sure!
B: And can I have raspberry compost on top?

*****
Raspberry Compote (no, Aubie, I'm not sending any - the ugly jars are THAT ugly!)
1 cup melted butter
2 cups powdered sugar
3 cups crushed raspberries

Stir together until well blended. Use immediately or freeze (stir regularly while cooling so the butter doesn't separate). We like it on waffles or French toast, but it can also top cakes or go in hot cereals.

picture post

2011-09-18T10:03:00.000-06:00

Click on a photo to see a bigger slide show.

I think Rachel is showing Rob her crummy letters in their Scrabble game.
Notice the novelty tees? These two are peas in a pod!

Aislynn is so stinkin' cute that she gets away with darn near everything, the little rascal!

We did a drive-by photo shoot of the old house for proof of the changed paint color. Driving through the area, Rob said,
"Wow, this is really the ghetto. I was so excited about owning I don't think I realized that before."

"Addie, what are you doing?"
"Nothing, Lindsey! Turn around!"

Me and my honey on the Coeur d'Alene pier after a TASTY dinner with the Rosses at a distillery.

This hottie had a baby (that little one) FIVE WEEKS before this photo was snapped. Amazing! Joy, Stef, and Meg came up to Bozeman (with Selah and Zeke) for a visit at the end of August, and Mom and Lane came over (with Maddox) for the fun.

Sawdog loves babies and needed to hold Zeke. He was so sweet and gentle, it melted my heart.

Mason, showing me his cherry-stained... everything.

A row(ish) of cousins! Blake, Mason, Smith, Maddox, Sawyer, and Selah in the front.

Sawyer turned two! He now has a cap gun rifle just like the older boys.

A RODY PONY OF MY VERY OWN?!

Oh, Rody, I love you so!

He was thrilled, but staunchly refused to ride him for an audience for a good long while.

Meggie and Zeke.

Maddox snuck off to the kitchen to scarf down as many cherries as he could. God help Lanie during the aftermath of THAT little meal!

Well, HELLO there!

A rare moment of peace, thanks to ice cream.

It was really fun to have them all together.

The crew, sans Momica, who snapped the photo. The three gals on the left are all pregnant!

Shaded Myers ladies.

A carful of kiddos.

Blake loves catching Grammie's chickens.

Sprinklers are a requirement of August.

Dad should probably be watching his fingers.

Our new house! This one was finished much faster than the one we hope to live in...

"I AM having fun Grammie."
"Then tell your face."

With five of her six grandies. What a woman!

We zipped up to Red Lodge for lunch at Bogart's Pizza and snacks at the Montana Candy Emporium.

Hard to be sure, but I don't think Lane puts curlers in Jetty's hair.

Caught Smiggy with a full mouth.

Mason wanted me in his picture.

Keeping them out of the antique store wasn't terribly hard, but they didn't all smile until I asked which of them tooted.

Maddox is a fashion icon...

... these clowns all followed his lead!

A plum on the patio (for drips), sporting a new mohawk for school.
He just looks like such a giant, great big boy. Hard to believe that's where my baby went.

nice to meet you! i'll try not to ruin your day.

2011-09-14T13:55:00.002-06:00

It's officially autumn per the calendar, but also per my schedule. Blake's in school again with a new teacher, I'm in a new Moms in Touch prayer group, and I'm in a new Bible Study Fellowship class. I first really ran into the following phenomenon last fall, then have realized it is going to be a regular part of my schedule, so long as I persist in meeting new people and doing new things: I get to share my story.

My story is also my testimony to how God worked (and is still working) His grace in my life. And I have to remind myself to use the term "get to share" rather than "have to share." Because my story is not a simple one, nor particularly happy. And though I can chat about big Blake with folks who already know my story with barely a tear (most times), there is something about introducing that history to folks who have no idea what sort of emotional sledgehammer I'm about to whack them with... it's very difficult not to be overcome with emotion myself. There are invariably questions if I'm not thorough, and even if I want to skip over big Blake entirely and just be a the single mom who met a great guy only three years ago... I can't.

I can't deny God's story in my story. I can't dishonor my late husband by trying to omit him from anything, and it seems that everything that impacts me spiritually revolves around what I learned from that tremendously traumatic experience. I don't always feel like I'm able to honor Rob with as much story time as I give to big Blake, but perhaps that will come with more years behind us.

So I tell the whole story. How happy we were. How we were on the cusp of many great changes and in a new place. How he died doing what he loved with friends and family who loved him. How pregnant I was and how I managed to survive (I don't remember - or have blocked - much, mercifully). How our son shares his name and was my saving grace and little buddy for years as we prayed together for another saving grace named Robert Alan Bedford, though we weren't aware of that name when we prayed.

And I have Kleenex mini-packs in my purse at all times. They are for me and whomever I'm meeting, tenderly trying to show them "me" while not ruining their day nor minimizing the pain of what God's tenderly brought me through. I've usually used them all up by Christmas, when I seem to meet a fresh batch of people and pop a new pack in, just in time for anniversaries of things, Christmas carols... and avalanche season.

God help me, I just got very, very tired!

tickled my funny bone

2011-09-12T12:34:00.005-06:00

This could go for environmentalism-as-religion too. I have more of those pushy followers in my life than I do pushy atheists!

the most beautiful hole in the world

2011-09-07T22:59:00.000-06:00

Our lot, to the utility boxes near the center.

Same boxes, now on the right, to the corner you can't see on the left.

It's a beautiful hole, and only a tiny bit of a swimming pool.

The beautiful hole is gone! The pad in the foreground is under the garage.

Terrible fires make for spectacular sunsets. It's not a feature specific to our lot, but I'd like to think so.

Preparing for footings.

How firm a foundation...

The ground floor.

In the master closet, looking at the garage door and laundry room.

Hard to tell, but now there are interior walls...

And front porch beams.

It is very happy, and so are we.

labor of love

2011-09-05T21:08:00.000-06:00

Rob and I planned to spend Labor Day together as a family, since B has the day off school and summer fled far too quickly. I had proposed a few different, short hikes, mostly up by Hyalite Reservoir, and we agreed to do one or more depending on the energy in one boy's legs. Last night, when I told B of our plans, he was enthusiastic and excited, then upped the ante by asking, "Can we take a bike ride on Sour Cookie Dough Trail after the hikes?!" (For the non-locals, he meant "Sourdough Trail.")

Though I initially answered a hopeful, "Maybe!" to the above question, our trip to Grotto Falls took over four hours. We came home, ate, showered, and swept him to bed. HOWEVER, the reason it took so long was lovely: based on new knowledge graciously given by my friend Nichole, I now know what huckleberries look like. I treated the entire hike like a treasure hunt, and we not only found huckleberries, but raspberries and strawberries as well. If you've ever had a wild strawberry, you'll nod with vigorous understanding when I say OH MY GOSH! They are tiny and intense jewels of summer.

I got to share my new knowledge with no fewer than three sets of people. After a bit of playing around at the falls, I even got to show a nearby father's three kids what the huckleberry tastes like. I'd step off the trail and it was though my legs were instantly surrounded by kittens: "Can I see it?" "Ooh, that's a big one!" "Which ones are the huckleberries?" "That one was SOUR!"

"That one" was a chokecherry.

The youngest boy kept insisting we find cranberries (he meant raspberries), while the older boy and Blake teamed up joyously, and the daughter and I chatted. We never got around to shaking the father's hand, and the youngest apparently wanted to talk both of Rob's arms off, but we enjoyed a leisurely stroll back to the parking lot, finding a surprising amount of mouth- and hand-staining fruits to occupy our time.

It was such a great day.

weddings, raspberries, and tattoos

2011-08-31T20:40:00.006-06:00

Remember these guys?! We're going to be neighbors once we move to our new place, and I couldn't be more excited.

Jesse hardly knows what to do with four daughters, but that beer in the foreground probably helps. My guess is that Naomi's dimples help too, but in a different way.

This looks like trouble.

Titus got my husband dancing! The weird thing is, Rob later refused to jitterbug with me, sending Titus instead. The Bedfords danced at this wedding, JUST NOT WITH EACH OTHER.

Kellie came to visit! Well, she came to work the music for a rodeo, but as far as I'm concerned, that's incidental to her seeing ME. We all picked raspberries at the same farm B and I had picked strawberries. Nine pounds of berries later, I have one batch of jam and many ugly jars of raspberry compote. I put it in ugly jars so I won't be tempted to give any away, and we can eat it all by ourselves.

She then helped us bottle Rob's second batch of home brew and was not very happy that I forgot to bring her a bottle when I saw her last weekend.

A rascal. Scamp. Scallywag.

We are taking part in a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) this summer. New veggies abound. I've roasted many of them and eaten just that for dinner. It's delicious. Things we've gotten thus far: Swiss chard (do not like), kohlrabi (yum!), several kinds of lettuce and peas, cabbage, onions, carrots, cucumbers (I made dill pickles with the wee ones), cauliflower, the best broccoli I've ever tasted, garlic, beets (we've found a friend to donate these to), yellow squash and yellow and green zucchini (roasted some, shredded most for use in zucchini-chocolate cake this winter), potatoes, green onions, green beans, banana peppers, jalapenos, radishes, Brussels sprouts.

I would have bought maybe five to ten of those things at the store. The rest are fun or annoying (we've taken to freezing the shelled peas and I'm asking for a slingshot for Christmas - to show the pesky blackbirds who's boss), figuring out what to do with it all is a bit daunting, and Blake gamely tries almost everything.

One of the puzzle catastrophes. See how FUN it is?! See how I could not just throw it away?!

The one missing piece. There were no extra pieces from the other puzzle. And when I opened the other puzzle's box, this piece was sitting neatly on top. And when I finished that other puzzle (yes, I'm a huge dork, I thought we'd clarified that years ago), there were no pieces missing.
VICTORY IS MINE!

Sawyer, threatening me with his sword, shielded eyes, and too-small boots on the not-right feet. He's a dangerous lad.

So's this one. Reese found Canadian flag tats at the dollar store and picked them up so B could have ink just like his dad. My heart is full to bursting with love for my fellas.

We broke ground on the ~~condo~~ new house last Monday, and by "we," I mean the excavator. We joked about showing up with shovels and hard hats just to give Matt a bad time of it, but I'm guessing he'll have had enough of our shenanigans by the time the house is done, and maybe we shouldn't push it. The foundation was poured by the end of the week, and as of today, there's a floor. We have photos of all of this, of course, but Rob only just got them to me, and I had to get all the above out there before launching into the epic of "Bedfords build a house." We have a lot of decisions to make, and when I can choose from EVERYTHING, I can't choose ANYTHING. This is going to get interesting.

first-grader = no more baby

2011-08-29T13:23:00.004-06:00

The only thing left of him that's at all "baby" are his teeth, and based on the looseness of his bottom two, my son's "baby" is about to all fall out. Also, for what it's worth, he dresses himself. I may delicately question his choices, but I do not mock them (much), and I rarely require that he change into something more suitable. It's his mode of expression!

Click to enlarge and see him in his full glory.

miss that boy

2011-08-23T20:21:00.002-06:00

With Blake in Billings for the week, it's awfully quiet around here. Deliciously, refreshingly quiet.

He's reached an age where the talking. never. stops. And I know some of you are just laughing and laughing, but really: I know when to stop now. When I think of how damn long it took me to reach that point, I'm a bit concerned that the next 25 years of my life will very, very long. And full of talking.

But maybe there will also be dance!

i love this life

2011-08-18T22:10:00.007-06:00

First, a disclaimer: I'm beginning to realize what a poor photographer I can be. I cannot always blame the camera, because I'm fairly confident that, in the hands of a better shooter, it could do some pretty badass stuff. But if I waited until my photos were all perfect or artful or whatever to show them to people, you'd never get to peek into our lives.

Kind of like God. If I wait until I'm holy to pray, I will never speak to Him again. Good thing He loves sinners! Good thing you guys don't mind crappy photos!

A friend gave Rob the goods to start brewing his own beer in exchange for some of the fruits of that labor. I was not very gracious at first (the items are large and space-taking), but have since been converted. It's not like he got a liver-and-onions machine, after all.

First batch was a honey wheat and it was DELICIOUS. The batch currently aging is Belgian-style wheat. He confessed to choosing recipes he knew I'd like so as to win me over faster, with more energy. It worked.

"Terra, kiss me right here."

"I GOT YOU!"
"Ok, Blake, now you kiss ME right here!"
We love that girlie.

When it's too hot to play outside (mid-90s), but you still need to move it move it, just strip down and play some Xbox Kinect. These boys were SWEATY, and we had the A/C on!

A delightfully quirky care package from the delightfully quirky Molly.

It was really fun, even if it was REALLY BOSSY! I have yet to make the bracelet, but Rob and Blake christened the "EAT THIS" bag "black sugar" and promptly ate it all. Molly's note (in reference to a book we've discussed) on that bag reads: "Cookies & cream bars (basically Rice Krispie bars but with crushed Oreos). NOT Nourishing Trads approved - unless coating Oreos with marshmallows counts as 'soaking grains.'"

Catherine and I hit up Rocky Creek Farm with our kiddos. This is pre-strawberry picking.

During strawberry picking - the kids did really well once we showed them what was too early to pick and what was far too late to pick.

Our crew, sans me. We ate berries by the handful (I ate once they were home and washed), and I made jam. The berries were so tender and wonderful that the ones at the bottom of the buckets were bruised by the weight of the ones at the top of the buckets. The hard store-bought kind no longer have much appeal - strawberries aren't supposed to be that firm.

Nerd alert! Nerd alert! There was a LARPing fair or something happening while we picked. I didn't want to intrude or be sucked in and discover the magic of pointed ears and long skirts in hot weather, so I just snapped a pic from far away.

I dragged him on a walk. It was hot (his shirt was in my back pocket most of the time). His legs were tired. I bribed him with ice cream.
But this is proof we went somewhere and did something. Outside. Together. We played 20 Questions ("Mom, can we play that question game? One thousand questions?"). We pondered what we'd do with a million dollars. My son cannot ponder a number so large, because the idea that he could own all the LEGOs in his catalog, with money still left over, boggled his little mind to the point that he truly couldn't come up with anything else to spend that money on.

working office-free

2011-08-16T15:58:00.002-06:00

Home:

Distracting because of the people.
Internet is blazing fast.
Coffee is excellent.
I must make the coffee myself.

Barnes & Noble

Distracting because of the people (HOLY CRAP!).
Internet is piddly slow.
Coffee is terrible but made by someone else.
I have to pay through the nose for the terrible coffee made by someone else.

I may try working from home from now on instead.

a smattering of happenings

2011-08-13T14:01:00.006-06:00

My mother and her friend Teri got chickens! They are well-fed, well-loved, well-caught chickens who have produced a few of what my dad calls "the most expensive eggs ever." This red let Blake catch her at least three times.

Blake making sure he has a heartbeat. See all those growlers on the back counter? Rob and I threw a "kegger" at my parents' house early in the summer (being still pregnant, I did not get very much of that smorgasbord of beer). Because we are adults... we invited our parents. Because we wanted more than one kind of beer, we rounded up half a dozen growlers and hit at least three different breweries in Billings to get a good selection. It was rather fun and quite tasty.

Rod (the doctor!) showing Blake how to properly apply an Ace bandage.

"Why are you taking a picture of us eating?"
"Because I can."

We provided the beer, the sides, and the dessert and asked everyone to bring something to grill. Rob then manned the grill LIKE A BOSS.

No, it's not what you think, but I did dart over to check. He was just patting his belly in the direction of the fireplace tools.
Because he can.

Maddox rounded up a few accomplices to help him consume as many s'mores as possible before his parents caught on. He was quite successful, despite having to entice people to assist him in his 'mallow roasting out in a light drizzle.

Blake's LEGO cookie.

Western tanagers at two of my feeders. I have had the COOLEST birds drop in! They have all since moved on and I am left with sparrows and house finches and damnable black birds.

The indigo bunting that surprised me one morning. Just saw him once.

Incredibly intense rainbow after one of many, many, MANY June thundershowers.

Lane and Bing drove to the rez and I hit a stand before we all converged on my parents' house for the Fourth. Dad already had a goodly stash of mortars, and we proceeded to show Rob what a rippin' good time can be had with what is otherwise a colossal waste of money.

That is homemade ice cream on that plate. My mom does it up right, though her version of "right" includes only HAND-CRANKED ice cream. Shew.

Grammie: Blake wants PB&J for lunch. Can you can get him everything he needs?
A: Yes, I'll make it.
G: No, he can do it.
A: He can NOT!
...
Oh, would you look at that.

... He can!
I am logging this knowledge away for future school lunch use.

Grammie bought him these Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle fingerless gloves, and he wears them ALL THE TIME. That's my little Raphael, reading Toot & Puddle while ninja-ing it up.

More photos of our summer thus far forthcoming, but 55 was simply too many to post all at once without using Picasa.

the eagle has landed

2011-08-11T10:10:00.001-06:00

IT'S THERE! IT'S THERE! WE GET TO BUILD A HOUSE! PRAISE JESUS!

In related news, my eyes keep leaking.

i barely know how to celebrate anymore

2011-08-09T20:44:00.001-06:00

... but I'm sure I'll remember.

The condo closed. The deed's been filed. All that's left is to check the deposit at start of business day tomorrow.

And then...

then I will go ALL CAPS AND EXCLAMATION POINTS, BABY!

Tonight I'm having wine with a friend. Rob's gaming, Blake's playing with a dear cousin. We're pretty low-key these days.

TOMORROW MAY BE A TOTALLY DIFFERENT STORY!!!!1111!!!!1

funnies

2011-08-07T19:53:00.004-06:00

Shark Week!

I'd like this sleeping bag. If nothing else, it's an ice-breaker and conversation piece. I wouldn't even have to sleep in it. If there was a lull in a dinner party (and let's face it: not likely at MY dinner parties!), I could just whip this baby out and bask in the laughs and envy.

In honor of Shark Week (last week), this is how the Discovery Channel decked out one of their office buildings.

Star Wars!

I could totally make these with Blake. Thing is, Otter Pops don't last long enough to do much more than say, "Look! I used one of the lightsaber handles! Oops, already finished my Otter Pop."

Rob appreciated this one enough to make it his avatar in chat. We are huge nerds. Yes.

Other Stuff!

A better batch of school supplies, but for the fact that I'm sure you cannot touch them or they would break. Either that, or your hand would glow for hours afterward in the awesomeness of handcrafted wax art. Someone was really REALLY ~~bored~~ creative.

Rob thinks this is sexist, but I told him that no matter how good he makes it, Ramen is still, well, RAMEN.

I will reserve comment, having been sold over to the Dark Side of Mac user.

trying to out-ninja God

2011-08-02T14:43:00.003-06:00

We have a new closing date with the indefatigable buyers. I have done a 180-degree about face in my attitude about these dear folks: I love them. They have hung tight through what would otherwise be discouraging deal-breakers, and there have been MANY.

I haven't said much about the condo sale outside of a small circle of friends and family, because - and I know this is idiotic - I don't want to jinx it. I haven't been able to pray about the condo because I have my heart set so ardently on having Matt build our next home, which seems so perfect: ideal plans, great location, incredible builder, and it's all a perfection that we can afford. I want this home so terribly badly that I have stopped asking God for it. Because - again, idiotic - I don't want to let on how much I want this house (not just any house: THIS house). Because deep down, I fear that if God knew how much I love and want this home for our family, He would take it away.

As if that is how He works. As if He's not already keenly aware of the desires of my heart.

So I've been repenting of that attitude and still not praying about it (because it makes me cry in vulnerability and hints of preparatory disappointment). I'm pretty sure I take the cake for bad attitudes, lousy behaviors, and weak faith lately. This post is to combat such nonsense.

The only thing that will prevent us closing on Friday is if documents do not reach FedEx in time. If that's the case, we close Monday. Upon the check hitting our account, we can pick up house plans from the city - plans that have been approved and waiting for us for over two weeks now - and write a five-figure check to start digging a very large hole in the ground. I am so excited! I am so anxious!

And I thought I was so sneaky...

i can only be SO amazing

2011-07-29T10:42:00.003-06:00

Yesterday went swimmingly. I want to take and post photos of my nearly-sparkly garage, but that would require getting said photos off the camera and onto my computer, and I've found that almost impossible lately. Mostly due to my laziness, because once they are on my computer, I have little excuse about editing them and posting them all over the internet. I like lots of excuses, so if they are stuck on my camera, I'm golden.

If they haven't even reached my camera, well...

I think you see where I am going with this.

Just wanted to let those who expressed concern that I was almost PERFECT with my cuss words. I think I said "crap-bag" at some point, in jest, which Chase absolutely picked up on. The only real slip of the tongue was when I burst out with "DAMMIT!" at one point when the boys were tearing down boxes.

What else was I supposed to say? I was holding and mulling a location for two oddly-shaped puzzle boxes. When one of the boxes slipped open and spilled about twenty pieces to the floor of my dusty garage, some falling beneath the freezer, some into an open (mostly filled) box of random stuff, I may have said "Oh, shoot!" But when setting the boxes down carefully and three or more of the OTHER PUZZLE'S pieces slipped out and mingled with the rest...

I think you see where I am going with this.

I now have two puzzles that may or may not be missing pieces. Those pieces may or may not be in the wrong box or still on the garage floor. And this wouldn't be so bad if they weren't puzzles from the same company, which is know for visually engaging pictures on the front (one is a bunch of visual puns on food - 169 puns, to be exact, and the other shows 25 different fairy tales/characters) and, oh, each is 1500 pieces. So I can't just take a day this weekend to whip them together and figure it out before I forget about this disastrophe.

Anyone want to come work a puzzle with me this next week plus? Bring a big table. My six-foot craft table ISN'T BIG ENOUGH.

Dammit.

a thrilling (and challenging) afternoon planned

2011-07-28T10:28:00.003-06:00

A: Chase, what are you doing on Thursday afternoon?
C (who is 13): I don't think I have anything, but I'll check with my mom.
Steph (his mom, in the other corner of the office): He doesn't have anything, why?
A: I need help going through stuff in my garage, mostly finding two documents and organizing the rest. All the crap piled up on the sides is trying to rendezvous in the center, which means I won't be able to park in there once the sides have met and realized how awesome they are and start generating little crap babies. If I'm paying someone else to help me, I might find the motivation to spend an afternoon out there taking care of it all.
C: Oh! Ok.
A: I will pay you (mulling it over - what would make it worth my time? worth his time? I know he has things to save for...) ten dollars an hour, and it won't take more than four hours.
C: Wow! I wouldn't charge you that much.
S: WHAT?! (marching over) You can't pay him more than his dad and I do, or he'll never work for us again!
A: (fumbling) Uh, well... you two drive a hard bargain... I will pay you FIVE dollars an hour and feed you lunch and snacks.
S: That's more like it.
A: And tell Ryan (C's dad and S's husband and my boss) that I have my Pandora station set to "clean," so he can rest easy that all the 80s rock will be cuss-word free.
---
R (via phone later): And can you guarantee that you will be cuss-word free?
A: What am I, a wizard?
...
Fine, I'll do my best not to pollute your kid.

the secret

2011-07-26T10:29:00.003-06:00

I get in trouble for assuming other people are like me: terrible with secrets. As I explained to my dear sister-in-love, "It's not that I think YOU run your mouth off. It's that I KNOW I do, and I just paint everyone else with the same brush." It doesn't help that I get things like this from friends (I'm looking at you, Kellie) immediately after swearing THEM to secrecy:

We have a secret, just we three,

The robin, and I, and the sweet cherry-tree;

The bird told the tree, and the tree told me,

And nobody knows it but just us three.

But of course the robin knows it best,

Because she built the--I shan't tell the rest;

And laid the four little--something in it--

I'm afraid I shall tell it every minute.

But if the tree and the robin don't peep,

I'll try my best the secret to keep;

Though I know when the little birds fly about

Then the whole secret will be out.

it's not funny... except when it is

2011-07-19T23:01:00.006-06:00

** Most of this is ad libbed from my memory. Some initials have been further disguised to protect the innocent. **

B: (kissing my tummy today, 7/19) I'm just so excited for when you and Dad have another baby. I can't wait. But I'm still kind of sad the first baby stopped growing.
A: Me too, to all of those things. But until I have a baby in there, maybe you could kiss me on the cheek instead, okay?

*****
R: They don't live like we live.
A: What does that mean?
R: Well, mostly it's just messier.
A: What does that mean?
R: I don't know. Because you know what's in our piles of stuff? Our piles are neater?
A: You realize that, when I married you, your home was so messy that you were unaware of the mice living on your kitchen counter? Remember that? YOU'RE NOT THE SAME MAN I MARRIED!
...
I'm so proud!

*****
A: If we get confirmation that this is miscarriage, I'll want to wait two solid months before we try again to make sure my hormones and cycles are evened out.
R: Okay.
A: That means we'll have to use condoms.
R: I'm pretty sure I just became a Catholic.

*****
A: And then he said, "I'm pretty sure I just became a Catholic."
S: You know what I've always said.
A: Uh, no. What?
S: Using condoms is kind of like eating an ice cream cone with a sock on your tongue. You can do it... but the experience has been, ah, altered.
A: I can't unhear that, DAD!

*****
A: And then I said, "I can't unhear that, DAD!"
K: (laughing in shock and horror) The relationship you have with your parents is incredible. I don't know if I'm going to be able to look your dad in the eye ever again.
A: Especially not if you're eating ice cream.

*****
A: And then I said, "I can't unhear that, DAD!"
J: So, I don't know your father, but I understand YOU a whole lot better now.
A: Totally.

*****
A: I'm calling the doctor tomorrow to ask for a D&C.
R: Ok. Because of how you're feeling?
A: I don't know what's in my head and what's a real side effect, but waiting for a miscarriage and all that goes with it is making me crazy. At this point, I have effectively had a dead body inside my body for over five weeks now. I'm as close to being a zombie as I'm ever gonna get.
R: Are you kidding me?! I have a staph infection eating my very flesh. I'M more of a zombie than you are!
A: (laughing) We're completely inappropriate.

*****
Dr: I've prescribed you drugs instead of surgery.
A: I'm scared of that. A friend experienced pain worse than childbirth when she used the drugs instead of surgery, and that's scary, because (getting frustrated and tearful) I'm a big wienie.
Dr: I know, but it's really the best option for how far along you are.
A: You didn't have to agree to me being a wienie so fast.
Dr: (blinking) Oh, no... I didn't...
R: She gotcha.
A: (laughing) That was awesome. But seriously, I'm scared.

*****
A: A dear aunt encouraged me to name the baby. But I don't like gender neutral names.
L: Like "Pat."
A: (snorting) Right. Because then it becomes a joke and that is actually more disrespectful in my opinion than just calling the baby "Maui," or... you know what? Jesus can name this baby. He has a better name than I could ever come up with.
...
Pat... that's terrible.

*****
R: For Mother's Day, we should get you a vanity plate that says "MILF."
A: Uh... thank you?

*****
XYZ (a number of people commented on my attitude, honesty, faith, and how I was a blessing after reading this post)
A: As I've said before, anything praise-worthy in me was put there by God. When I display myself, I usually end up needing to apologize. A lot. Just ask Rob.
R: You know that's right.

*****
L: How are you feeling?
A: Good. Really. I'm disappointed and frustrated, but I can see the mercies in this.
L: Oh, good.
A: I'm pretty annoyed that I have to go through the first trimester again. And getting thick in the middle because I could only eat simple carbs and couldn't tolerate exercise? Yeah, that was totally fine so long as there was a baby on the other end. Now I just feel chubby. I lost two pounds, but it was all muscle.
L: So that sucks.
A: Yep.

*****
X: You must be devastated.
A: I am disappointed and frustrated, but I have had one healthy pregnancy, so this isn't quite so devastating as it might be otherwise. Also, the only other time I was pregnant, my husband died, so... I can totally handle this kind of pain. Comparatively, this is easy.
X: That is almost offensive.
A: Yes, but to be fair, you haven't known me very long.

today's mail

2011-07-16T18:31:00.004-06:00

I'm so excited to get part 2 so I can wear the matched set. The front is a retro floral design. It first made me mad: "Who put a dirty shoe in my mailbox?!" Then confused: "Wait, only the postman can put things in there." Then it made me laugh. Hard. Then that made me cry.

Guess I'm still hormonal!

*Update: original photo displayed the full address. Then I checked on things and saw how many people have gotten to this site this week based on a search of just my name and thought "best not make it TOO easy."

a few recipes to try

2011-07-16T10:30:00.003-06:00

I'm being asked for recipes on FB, and since I've only made these things precisely from recipes I've found elsewhere, I'll crosslink them here (with comments) and hand out this link. Easy peasy lemon squeezy!

Baked Steel Cut Oats, via Nichole Joyce. I keep trying to talk Nichole into cooking for me full-time. I like to eat, she likes to cook, and she's working on eating more fresh and local fare as well as nourishing fare. Through her I learned about (and was promptly intimidated by) Nourishing Traditions, a cookbook that advocates a certain style of eating to maximize nutrients and minimize artificial "food." I'm working my way through it and it makes a ton of sense, but implementation (other than buying full fat dairy products, and using more butter!) is proving daunting for me. Trying Nichole's recipes is a great blend of "I know that meets the 'nourishing' requirements AND I know I can make it!"

I fed this to Rob with low expectations. He doesn't care for oatmeal due to the texture. Using the steel cut oats is the trick - it's got a texture that's not oatmealy, is chewable, and the whole shebang is very very tasty. I have another recipe that I want to try, but I'm a bit nervous about the rolled oats it uses. Unless it has a cake-like texture, I might be eating that one alone (Baked Oatmeal, from Alexis Croft), but with apples and cinnamon in it, I might not mind having to consume what is practically apple pie. For breakfast. Talk about your nourishing!

We are topping the baked steel cut oats with a generous dollop of my new favorite recipe to use up rhubarb: Rhubarb Curd, also from Nichole. I'm a curd newbie, but after making an inordinate quantity of rhubarb jam last year (not recommended: it loses too much of the rhubarb flavor), I needed a new way to quickly use up the two rhubarb crops I find pressed upon me. Rob likes eating rhubarb raw. This is crazy talk, and I can only make so much strawberry-rhubarb pie.

Enter rhubarb curd. Anything with that much butter and eggs HAS to be good! I've slapped it on breakfast and shortbread so far, and even had a spoonful just off the stove. I'm excited to share with others until I look at my (empty) first jar and realize how quickly we're going to go through this stuff.

I think B and I will go for a hike today. Not only to walk off the curd, but to work off the half-and-half that we pour over the oats (and curd). Heavenly!

some good news (finally)

2011-07-15T13:44:00.003-06:00

!!! WARNING: Exclamation marks ahead. Seems fitting, since I like to think of myself as an exclamation mark personified. !!!

I heard back from the doctor! What's left in my uterus is simply a clot, not a "structure of conception," so no D&C is required! I just have to wait it out!

They want another follow-up ultrasound in six months for the cyst. However, we do not have to wait that whole time to try to conceive again (but we still need to wait 2-3 normal monthly cycles as recommended post-miscarriage)!! The nurse said, "Call us to schedule the ultrasound in early December, but hopefully we'll see you before then for a prenatal visit."

HURRAY! I'm relieved, I'm grateful, I'm cheered! I've permitted myself disappointed and frustrated tears in the last few days (you may not know this, but I rarely cry out of sorrow any more), and prayed that God would use this waiting somehow for His glory so that it didn't feel like a waste of my time and heartache. I think His purpose is developing my patience, for I unwittingly prayed for that a few months back.

Mental note: that was stupid!!

However, I can handle this kind of waiting. I've done all I could do on the condo; it's now fully out of my hands and into the underwriters' and buyers'. We also got good news on the dues, so if the closing is delayed again, Rob and I aren't just up shit creek without a paddle (or $1000+).

What a great way to start the weekend!! I think I'll have some ice cream!

float like a butterfly

2011-07-13T19:06:00.004-06:00

In a desire to shake up the trend from the last three weeks, I'd like to punch life in the balls. I don't even HAVE balls, and life has managed to punch me in them repeatedly. It's getting old. I'm wavering on that thin line between "mad as hell and not gonna take it" and "discouraged and just want to stay in bed." Either way, I end up sinning, either by excessive swearing or excessive self-pity.

My ultrasound today showed that there's a lot of "debris" left in my uterus. As in, that organ should be clean and empty and Rob and I should be able to start our two-month wait, then try again for babies. Unfortunately, two weeks after taking drugs, I'm still doing a little more than spotting. This is not a good thing. This may mean I need a D&C after all. I'm not excited about that.

My cyst is unchanged. This may mean that we must wait 2-3 months and 2-3 normal cycles (since I'm still technically miscarrying, only God knows when I get a "normal cycle" again) to check it again, further delaying our hope to grow our family.

My neighbors just cost me over a thousand bucks, and we still may not be able to close as planned due to the underwriters and the time it takes to underwrite things. If we can't close by July 31, we're out over a thousand bucks WITH NOTHING TO SHOW FOR IT.

It was very hard not to curse A LOT in this post. It's very hard not to sink into "mad as hell and not gonna take it." It's very hard not to cry in disappointment and discouragement. I am trying to rest in God's peace. I am trying to trust Him that He won't pull the rug out from under me.

But last time I was pregnant and had everything going my way...

Well. We all know how that ended.

***UPDATE 7/13/11***
After not nearly long enough in bed, I am feeling better this morning. None of the above has changed, but I'm no longer in the depths of despair about it. I will permit for "cautiously optimistic," but that's about as far as I'll go. Changing factors include a friend who is not usually a hugger being a hugger last night, being able to pour my heart out about it to Rob, and a very good book that is challenging me right now (more about it later). Well, and prayers. Not mine so much as others, I'm sure. I am thinking about reading another book (Anne of Green Gables) so as to remember how to be even MORE melodramatic when in the depths of despair!

how many times can I make this in one week...

2011-07-08T17:22:00.004-06:00

... and eat the majority of it myself?

Why do you ask? ARE YOU CHALLENGING ME?! That would be bad. I'd win in a heartbeat, for my "too much carbs" gene was shut off during my first sugar coma.

Caramel Corn Snack Mix (adapted from AllRecipes.com)

8 cups popped popcorn
4 cups Corn Chex
2 cups small pretzel twists (I used pretzel Goldfish)
1 cup pecan halves
1 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup butter
1/4 cup light corn syrup (I used honey)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon baking soda

In a large, enormous, bigger-than-you-think-you-need bowl, combine the popcorn, cereal, pretzels, and pecans.

Combine the brown sugar, butter, and corn syrup/honey in a saucepot. Cook on medium, stirring until mixture comes to a boil. Reduce heat to medium low and cook without stirring for 5 minutes.

Remove from heat and stir in vanilla and baking soda. Pour over popcorn mixture and toss and stir until evenly coated. This part is really hard, because the mix does not approve of "evenly" and goes straight to "clumpy." This is why the enormous bowl is helpful: you spill less in your efforts to ~~beat the mix into submission~~ even things out.

Bake (in the giant bowl) at 275 for 30 minutes, stirring after 15 minutes. Dump out onto waxed or parchment paper and break up any chunks once cool. If you use heaping measures for the popcorn, Chex, and pretzels, there won't be any chunks. This is unsatisfying. If you're going to err on measurements, err on the scant side. The resulting clumps of caramel are VERY satisfying.

I made this last week, finishing up at 11:00 pm, and told myself I could have one small bowl. Then I thought "well, they are small, so two bowls is okay." When done, I then simply stood at the counter and ate the cooling mix off the waxed paper.

I think I may have a discipline problem.

too engaging not to share

2011-07-07T10:00:00.001-06:00

I have watched/listened to this a few times now, and it's just enchanting!

waiting on one less thing

2011-07-01T12:25:00.002-06:00

We turned a critical corner last night, and I feel better this morning than I have all week. I did not require surgery, but was able to use medication to get my body moving. The pain was negligible and the worst part about the evening was simply that we were too keyed up (and I was too crampy) to go to bed before 3:00 AM. We slept until 10:30 this morning, and Rob was able to stay home from work to be with me and take care of me, though little care was needed beyond hand holding. God is good.

I have another ultrasound next Friday to check on things and make sure that my uterus is clear of debris and that two cysts are shrinking. Hopefully hormonal levels fall back in line so that I continue to feel like myself again.

Rob's staph infection is under control and he's able to treat and dress his wound without my help. The granular tissue is still a concern.

We will probably have to pay off the delinquent dues in order to sell the condo. However, we have a new closing date (July 19) to pray toward, and hopefully the buyers will agree to split the payoff cost with us. Otherwise we'll count it the best $2000 we've ever been forced to spend in order to move on with our lives. Because that would be a really wonderful feeling.

The Fourth of July is coming up, and I'm reminded every year of how much I FREAKING LOVE that holiday. As a friend says, we celebrate America by blowing up small pieces of China. It brings out the pyro in me (fire!), the girlie in me (all the pretty colors!), and the relationship-junkie in me (it's a great excuse to hang out with beloved family and friends). It's fun to walk up to the fireworks stand with my son and rattle off all the names for things I want and love, and know what I'm talking about. We're lucky that both he and I have all our fingers and toes!

doing better, but still not a great "waiter"

2011-06-30T10:40:00.002-06:00

I wrote yesterday's post just before I went to work, where calling people and probably crying would have been incredibly distracting and inappropriate. I also wasn't feeling quite myself, mostly disoriented.

After a few hours of trying to work, I went home with a fuzzy, echo-y head and in a light sweat. I promptly passed out in bed for three hours and woke up with a slight fever. Rob fed me and we spent the evening cuddled on the couch, watching movies. I then slept until 10:00 this morning.

Something's off, I've called my doctor though I'm not in pain, and through the counsel of a dear woman who has been in this wretched place, I'm asking for the surgical method (called dilation and curettage, or D&C) to end the waiting game. Thank you for your calls and texts and visits with flowers and beer. There are people out there who know me alarmingly well!

My heart is better today, but I'm aware of how quickly I can swing from "fine" to "emotional wreck," so I'll try to blog less in the extremes. It will help us all feel better and help me feel less bipolar.

discouraged today

2011-06-29T11:46:00.002-06:00

For a number of reasons, most of which revolve around waiting. Rob's surgery site is not healing nicely, due to a condition called "proud flesh," which are words I'd never use to describe my beloved, but apparently his flesh is not with the program. Warning on that link: there is a really icky picture that you may not want to scroll to.

I cannot help him treat or dress his wound due to my still-fragile stomach, which leads into the next discouraging thing: being pregnant-yet-not-pregnant. It's now been five weeks since the baby stopped growing, yet my body isn't quite ready to acknowledge that, I guess. It's hard to pray for a miscarriage to complete, hard to use some of the words that describe that process, hard to wait for, hard to contemplate the surgical option if I simply cannot wait any longer.

Though we're approved on the construction loan, there's been no news on the sale of the condo. No good news, but no bad news either, and again, I just have a hard time with the waiting of it.

It's been difficult for me to get out of bed the last few days, which is a shame, for it's lovely and finally summer here and rather abruptly so. My heart's just not into it lately, and being this vulnerable to actual people is scary and emotional right now, so I'll write it to the faceless internet and trust for prayers and hope it all means I won't cry very much.

i hate last week, it is dead to me... moving on

2011-06-27T11:12:00.004-06:00

Last week pretty much sucked, and even though I do not love Mondays, I love this Monday because I am claiming it in the name of "gotta get betta from here!"

The condo did not close last Monday. BOO.
We still haven't heard on the buyers' financing. BOO.
We discovered that we'd lost the baby. BOO BOO BOO.
The doc won't just let me be because of other possible complications. BOO.
Telling people who care deeply is more daunting than the miscarriage itself. BOO.
Rob's minor surgery site is infected. BOO.
With staph. BOO BOO BOO.

The buyers are pursuing local financing to hopefully buy faster, with more energy. YAY!
We've been approved for a construction loan, so we can move right forward once the condo check's in the bank. YAY!
I do not have to deliver a baby during the same time of year that my first husband died. Yikes.
I get to do a better job of mentally preparing for a pregnancy this next time. YAY!
The possible complications are life-threatening, but only a 1 in 30,000 chance of being real complications. YAY!
People care deeply about us and understand my heart even when I make them laugh as they want to cry. YAY!
Rob's minor surgery was to remove non-malignant skin cancer. YAY!
There's really nothing good to say about staph.

There have been worse weeks, but the series of bad news was pretty consistent. Even so, I can see the mercies of God throughout nearly everything but the staph. That's just a fly in the ointment. A sturdy bacterial fly in the ointment, yes, but one that will die via the sturdier antibiotics (poor Rob).

I'm almost confident that God will bring the condo to closure with these buyers, but I still covet prayer over that. I'm ready for people to treat me normally, because I feel almost normal, but I still covet prayer to protect my heart and body. And I want to feel physically better so that I can enjoy the tiny shred of summer with my family before it's gone and I'm cold again.

God is good, our hearts are well, and we're surrounded by love

2011-06-26T13:13:00.000-06:00

From an email I had to send yesterday morning:
Though I should be about eleven weeks along, Baby Bedford #1 stopped growing at about seven weeks (four weeks ago). We found out the likelihood of this on Thursday and it was confirmed by hormone levels in my blood yesterday. The doctor also wants to keep an eye on a cyst I have on one of my ovaries (there's a very slim chance of ectopic pregnancy on top of the now-failed intrauterine pregnancy), but otherwise it's just now a waiting process. Hopefully my body will get with the program soon, because the anticipation/dread of the physical manifestations of miscarriage is no fun.

Blake took the news very well, handing me tissues and mostly just assuring himself that there would be another baby soon. "Do you and Dad have to go back to Hawaii then?" Wouldn't that be great?! No, we can make this happen here at home. ;) He also noted that his first baby brother or sister got to meet Daddy Blake before he did, which made him grin. And I love that: Daddy Blake is caring for baby Bedford in Heaven, and Daddy Rob is caring for baby Blake down here.

So... there you have it. Our hearts are doing as well as can be expected, considering we didn't see or hear a heartbeat, which helps keep the pregnancy in the realm of esoteric "idea" for the time being. We are still confident of this: we will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. We will wait for the Lord. We'll be strong, take heart, and wait for the Lord. (Psalm 27)

What I didn't put in the email: we thoroughly enjoy the process of trying for a baby, so that part will be great. I will also enjoy a glass or two of wine once I feel a bit physically better (just headache at this point). Blake is already praying for another baby and hasn't skipped a beat in his joyfulness. We trust that the reason this happened is that something was wrong with the baby, and a bit of heartache now compared to the potential for great heartache later is okay. And otherwise, hugs, prayers, warm words are welcome, but I don't really care to talk about it much. You may not like what I have to say anyway!

selling the impossible dream

2011-06-22T19:41:00.000-06:00

We have probably sold the condo. I say "probably" because it evidently takes an act of God to sell a condo in this market. Especially OUR condo. Because everything I do must take an act of God. I'm very godly or something.

We have a buyer. We have a buyer who is VERY interested and loves our property and made us an insultingly low offer a few weeks ago. We (and when I say "we," I mean "I," because legally, Rob does not own the condo, it's the monkey on my back alone... legally, even though he pays for it every day in a myriad of ways, by virtue of being married to me. Legally.) laughed at this offer that was $18K less than our asking price, which was already so reasonable! and low! and countered. They came back with their final offer that was still $10K less than our reasonable counteroffer. I snipped to our lovely realtor that they must not really want OUR condo, and that was that.

The next day, I peed on a stick. The day after that, we called our realtor and asked her to go begging on our behalf. She could use whatever tricks were at her disposal to wheedle the buyers into being interested in our condo again, but she should really emphasize that pregnancy makes people desperate. We came to an agreement on pricing and an option to live in the condo, rent-free, for six months after closing. We and these buyers agreed on almost everything! It was perfect! A match made in heaven!

Then we had the inspection. After fixing things the ORIGINAL BUILDER or his crew or his subcontractors had done (to the tune of $1500), we again agreed on almost everything! It was perfect! A match made in heaven!

Then the banks got involved. Right now, the bank is reluctant to approve the buyers' loan because of - get this - my neighbors. That's right. Something I cannot fix. Cannot change. Cannot whip them into shape, though it's not for lack of hissing epithets in their general direction. So many of them are late on their HOA dues ($80-85/month) that the bank sees it as problematic for a loan. The good news is that the buyers still really want it, love the property, are willing to wait on the lender to figure things out and are even pursuing a local lender to see if that speeds things up.

Even though these buyers have kind of put me through the ringer, the fact that they have not lost interest despite the hurdles in buying our place means I love them and will be the BEST free renter EVER. Because once I can tie a bow on our place and present it cheerfully to them, we're hoping/planning to have Matt build a wonderful house that will work for our family for years to come. WITH A GUEST ROOM!

Please visit. I've now taken away all your excuses. We'll have room, a yard, a yowling baby in the wee hours, I'm a great cook and now Rob's learning how to brew his own beer.

BEST HOSTS EVER. I would like to be valedictorian of that.

i just love nph

2011-06-16T18:27:00.000-06:00

surrounded by testosterone

2011-06-13T10:09:00.003-06:00

Last week I marched into work grimly and declared to the men there:

"I'm warning you that I took all my bitchy pills this morning, and I'm a little miss crabby ass. To protect you all, I plan to put my headphones and not unleash any of (motioning over myself) THIS on any of you poor souls."

Sam, known more for his deadpan sarcasm than his empathy, promptly stood up and said, "You do what you need to do, and it's going to be okay," and then hugged me warmly.

Naturally, I burst into tears.

Ryan walked out of his office with his phone in hand and pointed to it, saying, "Based on my calculations, we shouldn't be in this phase of the pregnancy until June 21."

I wiped my nose on my sleeve and fired off a double-barreled bird to my boss, my friend, the man who is like the brother I never wanted.

photo phlurry

2011-06-12T19:22:00.005-06:00

We got back from Hawaii in time for Blake's spring music program (two days later). He wasn't really prepared after missing nearly two weeks of school, but it's hard not to love a passel of singing kiddos. I have video that I'm hoping Rob can edit a bit into one short "best of" rather than five longish examples of what not to do when shooting video.

He was so cutely awkward about the actual singing alone, but shone like a star afterward.

The rhubarb we pulled out of the garage in early May. It's like it had said, "Forget this 'no sun' crap, I'm growing anyway, dammit!" Within a few days it had green (not neon yellow) leaves and red stalks.

The massive fort Blake and Rob made. The wall on the right is being scaled by invaders and lots of them. There's a table for a game of Go Fish!, a kitchen in the foreground, a jail you cannot see behind the wall, a lightning tower with a balancing Storm Trooper, and a Storm Trooper in a barrel. I let him keep in intact for over two weeks, the lucky dog!

Rob's "We're pregnant!" shirt. Two of his closest friends had children within days/weeks of each other. I happened to come across both families' photos within minutes of each other. Each father (the dear friend) was wearing this shirt during labor and delivery of their sons. One was in Chicago. One was in Spokane. It became Rob's "That's how I'm going to announce we're pregnant!" shirt. So I talked his sisters into giving it to him for Christmas and told him no one would get it until I explained it.

He was cool with that.

It's from the sadly short-lived television show, Firefly. And if you don't get the reference WATCH THE SHOW. It's excellent, but not so excellent that I have agreed to name any daughter we have "River."

"Hold it like this? With a face like this?" Rob wanted to buy a onesie in Hawaii that read "Made in Maui," but I foolishly pooh-poohed the idea, because I sincerely doubted we'd get pregnant that quickly, and it wouldn't make sense otherwise, and it was just wishful thinking on his part.

I finally took the pregnancy test after we'd been home a few weeks, just to shut him up because he kept insisting I was, and I kept insisting otherwise, and I was going to pee on that stick and show him! Humph! The first test was so faint I was sure it was just a trick of the lighting. The second test was equally faint. The third test the next morning was still really faint.

The fourth test, six days later, was a bit more pronounced. Bethany now thinks we'll have as many babies as pregnancy tests. I'd argue with her, but I decisively lost the last battle I had with a Bedford, so I'm keeping my big trap shut. (We got a hold of the cute little onesie - and only ONE OF THEM - by telling friends who visited Maui a few weeks after we left that we had made a big mistake by leaving without one, and other than family, they knew about our little bun in the oven first. By necessity, you understand.)

no cousins were harmed in the making of this story

2011-06-11T10:43:00.002-06:00

We spent some time in the sun at the Schuyler home yesterday. Blake came running up, deeply concerned, and waited until I was done speaking to address me:

"Mom, the twins are playing with the axe and one of them said 'Kill the cousin,' and I'm scared because I'm the cousin."

Reese and I looked at each other and couldn't help it. We burst out laughing.

bunko girls

2011-06-10T10:14:00.002-06:00

So last Friday, after my hard and sparky post, I got to hang out with my Bunko girls. I'm only finally getting around to this, because one of the side effects of pregnancy is the exhaustion (this past week I grew another person's teeth, so it's pretty understandable) and the foggy head that comes with it. The girls had to remind me to write down the funny things they said.

H: J. has never sworn. He has that much self-control.
A: Wait, has he ever climaxed then? (half to self) Of course he has, you have two children...

*****
S: Have you seen... ALL OF THIS?!

*****
S: So, you're pretty anal, right?
A: .... Ok, fine: yes.

*****
M: I'm rubbing your belly.
A: WHY?! It's not a hard baby belly, it's the squishy original version! Wait until I flex.

*****
L: They're going to play poker.
N: Poke her?

*****
M: Don't show your neighbor what's in the bag.

*****
A: What are you doing?! You're not supposed to look!
L: WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?!

*****
K: My favorite quote from my bridal shower was from A: "What goes up must come down."

*****
C: THEY LIKE IT HARD.

*****
C: If they "accidentally" grab your butt.

*****
M: H is going to go pump.
C: I'll go with you.

*****
C: I should just apologize before I throw something to someone.
A: By walking it over instead?

*****
S: I think I found my g-spot finally.
M: WHY would you announce that?
?: Yeah. I've known where mine is for a long time.

*****
M: L's chest is getting a lot of attention. (I have to clarify this one: L brought a prize contained in a big floral-covered treasure chest sort of thing.)

*****
H: There was a male server at MRPC that was wearing a bright pink breast cancer awareness shirt last night. It was hilarious to me. I don't know why.

*****
M: Ooh! The chest! I get to look in the chest!

*****
L: (gasping) You're the one I don't want to do it against! If you snoop my stuff...

*****
And finally, just one from the Blakester:
B: I drew our family and put an X through me, cuz it's not about me, it's about you and Dad.
A: Uh, thanks?

queen for a day

2011-06-03T10:57:00.003-06:00

I won't lie, I'm all over the place emotionally these days. And it's hard not to succumb to the "Oh, I'll write about it on the blog," because then this happy (hopefully funny) place becomes a vale of tears where I only write about the painful stuff and garner lots of sympathy and maybe even attention. I love attention. Too much, probably.

Nutshell: in finally applying for little Blake's Canadian citizenship by virtue of his dual-citizen father, I'm having to round up paperwork and lots of it. Some of it is easy to find; I'm almost numb to the sight of it (big Blake's death certificate - I can simply see what it is without reading it and hurting). Some of it is very hard to find (I have a lot of stuff in the garage, and some legal papers are apparently buried deeply), and it requires looking through many things that bring memories flooding to mind.

For the life of me, I cannot scrounge up big Blake's most recent driver's license. I am fairly confident it's in a beautiful eelskin wallet that was a gift from his mother. I have found his Social Security card (that he kept with a small photo of his mother, which is deeply endearing to me), I have found notebooks full of his handwriting, I have found his stack of old ski passes (adorably, Rob has also kept most of his passes, and the two stacks are in the same drawer, mingling minimally but in my mind), I have found our diplomas and many photos, and no driver's license or wallet. They are probably in his shaving kit, which I have never been able to do anything more than look at and cry over, then zip up and put back intact. And now I can't find it, but all the other things are sweet and bitter and then I cry.

Being pregnant is so magical. I'm perfectly fine today, in fact in a better mood than usual, feeling a little sassy and sparky and like singing along loudly to my favorite songs. It might have something to do with a note I got, in reply to a note of apology I sent to a former employer. God is recovering a relationship that I tossed in the garbage nearly seven years ago, and He is doing so with a very gentle and very gracious conviction of my own sin, finally turning my eyes from how I'd been wronged to how I had wronged. She wants to have coffee. So do I. We'll probably hug, and I'll probably CRY LIKE A BABY, but that's okay...

... because today, there were three western tanagers on my bird feeder, and I'm singing along to my anthem.

the last hurrah

2011-05-29T12:25:00.000-06:00

I know, you're thinking "Enough with the lizards, lady!" It's just that I like the fauna of a place, and even though Montana has much bigger fauna, we're too cold to have fragile little reptiles like this. They look like tiny dinosaurs, and I always thought it was kind of exciting when I saw one. The locals probably thought I was as lame as I thought it was when I saw a magpie in the zoo in Seattle (like putting a winged rat on display).

Self-portrait, under the banyan tree, post ice cream. I'm seriously one giant freckle!

Our last sunset on the beach. Rob captured it via time lapse - here's hoping you get to see THAT stitched together into a lovely video on HIS blog.

A: "Ok, now at least smile or lift your eyebrows in this one."
R: "Sure. You first."

We capped off our last night with dinner at an Irish pub, of all things. This guy is the local bagpiper, and he was GREAT. He's actually Irish, answered the question that no one asked with "Socks and boots," and played Iron Man and Smoke on the Water. The food and drinks were okay, but we'd go back in a heartbeat for the entertainment. It was stellar!

Waiting for takeoff in Portland...

In the air! I loved seeing that there are no straight lines on the ground that are not man-made. Linear isn't in nature's language, and the folds and curves of the earth, the ribbons of water, the lay of snowfall on the land - it was remarkably beautiful to me on this trip.

One of my happy shots, and one I wanted to leave unedited. Those are God's original colors, and it was just spectacular, a truly incredible last sunset.

Those are the photos and videos I have worth sharing. The rest of the stories can be metered out a bit. I'm taking a few days off!

made in maui

2011-05-28T13:20:00.002-06:00

I had to post this before I lost my nerve (again). I'm a little over seven weeks. We've known almost three weeks. Aren't you proud of me for keeping it fairly quiet? We're due the second week of January and everyone is pretty excited.

I do not have morning sickness, but afternoons can find me double-fisting ginger ale and a preggy-pop. There's a very short window between thinking a food item sounds good and actually preparing and consuming it before it no longer sounds good. I'm eating a lot of cereal and yogurt these days.

the softer side of cynical

i'm either a heartburn or a hatchet kind of girl

that's what she said

ultrasound today! we're having a...

things i'm making

foooood, glorious foooooood!

a little bit of this, a little bit of that

blerg and derp

funnies

milestones today

got me a little buggy

in and out

this one's for mrs. sherfey

happy new year?

recovering

o happy day

love and love and love

unsentimental, until i wallow in it

this is totally how i'd christmas carol

love

YES, SIR!

picture post

i should really be in bed

wrapping it up... thirty days of thanks

this is how pathetic i am

grateful for... incredible families

grateful for... being almost done with this!

grateful for... permission

grateful for... the richness of fellowship and rich food

grateful for... being teased

grateful for... inappropriate (and hilarious) haiku

grateful for... not having to pull it myself

grateful for... a communing family

grateful for... sweet spirits

grateful for... sick days and cozy pants

grateful for... progress

grateful for... feeling like crap

grateful for... robrob my hearthRob

grateful for... cute hats and good friends

grateful for... tiny oranges

grateful for... helping hands

grateful for... marilla

grateful for... better living through chemistry

grateful for... being appreciated

grateful for... sunday afternoons

grateful for... someone to keep me young

grateful for... an involved teacher

grateful for... carnal relations

an attitude of gratitude

nothing much to say, here's a recipe

house update

nuff said

that's what he said

being very brave together

it's not a tattoo

diy

the merry widows club

gone viral

*UPDATE * a bit pathetic

I need help.

I'm rather ill, alternately coughing up a lung or blowing my brains out via my nose. I got B to school, then slept until after 1:00 pm today, missing half of his Fun Run in the process.

The owners of the condo are coming by with their parents tomorrow afternoon, and it's definitely looking "lived in" at the moment.

Can anyone help with taking B or just tidying or even feeding us?

*****

I slept until 1:00 PM today after dropping Blake off at school. Not sure how much more I can actually get, but I'm willing to try. Those naps won't take themselves!

for the curious who won't ask

lyrics are especially tough

picture post

nice to meet you! i'll try not to ruin your day.

tickled my funny bone

the most beautiful hole in the world

labor of love

weddings, raspberries, and tattoos

first-grader = no more baby

miss that boy

i love this life

working office-free

a smattering of happenings

the eagle has landed

IT'S THERE! IT'S THERE! WE GET TO BUILD A HOUSE! PRAISE JESUS!

UPDATE a bit pathetic