The Death That Rocked The World

I'm not talking about the execution of Saddam Hussein.

I'm talking about something much bigger and profound than that.

Today the girls and I attended a funeral for their 8-year-old classmate Tatiyania Harris. She has been fighting leukemia for 5 years. I would like to share the obituary that was printed in the program.

Tatiyania Mylie Renee Harris was born on July 10, 1998 in Tacoma, Washington. She went to her homegoing December 22, 2006 surrounded by her parents Jeffery and Timika Harris and many friends and family.

Affectionately known as "Tati Mommas" she was raised in Tacoma all of her life, and attended schools in the Tacoma and Puyallup School Districts.

As a young child, "Tati Mommas" was very independent and determined to have things her way. At the young age of three, she was able to write her own name and complete a 25 piece puzzle. Tatiyana loved to write letters, draw pictures, color, do puzzles, play video games and decide what to eat for dinner.

During Tot's first year of school at Edison Elementary she was diagnosed with Leukemia. Many years, days and hours were spent at Mary Bridge Hospital in Tacoma where staff always extended their love and support. In time, she became royalty and has earned the title "Princess Tatiyania".

Tot was very dynamic in proving herself to the medical field as well as her community. No matter how sick she was, she was always eager to go to school. Her inspirational courage has earned her much recognition including Terrific Kid Award (three times), Kiwani's and Meeker Soaring Eagle award. The City of Puyallup officially proclaimed December 2nd as "Tatiyania Harris Day". And she didn't stop there! The first Tuesday of each month has been recognized as "Think Pink Day" at her school as well as citywide.

She will be forever remembered by her parents, Jeffery and Timika Harris, brother Jeffery Jr., Tavion and Jaylin Harris, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and extended family and friends.

I cannot tell you how humbling it is to sit in a church with two daughters the same age as this beautiful little girl, staring at a flower-draped tiny pink coffin. The sadness is all encompassing.

Everyone was asked to wear pink to the funeral, and as far as I could see, everyone did. There was a slide show set to music - the music that my girls love. I had no idea that "Cheetah Girls" would ever have made me cry.

And man, did I cry. The entire time I sat there with my hand covering my mouth, with tears dripping off my chin.... Oh, it was just terrible. And the girls, I think for the first time, understood what death really meant. They are still crying - that silent type of crying with their eyes digging right into my heart for answers.

And all I can do is think, "Thank God you're okay. Thank God you are with me. Don't EVER go away. I could not stand it even for one minute."

Isn't it amazing, on a day like today when every televison and newspaper and internet site is weighing in on one death, that another can be so, so much more important? It proves to me that death can be much more powerful in the quiet sad corners of our lives than it is on the world stage.

Rest in peace, sweet girl.

I'm It

I haven't been tagged with a meme in a long time. This one is easy enough and does not involve delving into my heart of hearts (which is small and black as coal, by the way).

Here is the premise:

1. Find the nearest book.
2. Name the book.
3. Name the author.
4. Turn to page 123.
5. Go to the fifth sentence on the page.
6. Copy the next three sentences and post to your blog.
7. Tag three more lucky souls

I happen to have one right here next to my keyboard that was just purchased last night. It was purchases "for the girls", but I seem to have it in my possession. I don't know why.

"Pirateology" by Captain William Lubber - Pirate Hunter
September 13, 1723
(this book does not have 123 pages, therefore I chose page 12)

"Born in Bristol, England, as Edward Teach, Blackbeard believed that the best way to control his pirate crew was to make sure they were always drunk. On one occasion he shot one of his own men, saying that if he did not kill a man every now and then, his crew would forget who he was."

That is just creepy - my parenting style in a pirate book.

Strange.

I tag ...

1. Davey Jones
2. Captain Morgan
3. Jack Sparrow

The Other Shoe

I suppose it's inevitable. I actually got grumpy today.

It's not often that I do, so when it happens I'm not very good at it. Or maybe I'm really good at it - I guess it depends on your perspective.

Here is as complete a list as I can come up with to explain my bad attitude.

1. My right ankle has swollen for no apparent reason. I did not injure said ankle, and I find it insulting that it thinks it has all that much to complain about. It caused me discomfort today, but what's more, it caused me to not sleep too well due to disturbing thoughts of rapid-onset congestive heart failure that I very well could have self-induced over the holiday-season-of-eating-nothing-but-crap. Potential death, especially my own, tends to just piss me off I guess.
2. I was surprised to find out that I am still harboring resentment over not getting the job. The resentment is aimed at no one, but it is there. It really needs some sort of target (see number 3).
3. John got me a "bath set" for Christmas. Now this is all well and good, and I hate to be one that looks a gift horse in the mouth - but this horse seems to have no teeth to speak of, thereby making it a bad potential purchase (if you know what I mean, and I think you do). First of all, I don't even have a bath. That is to say, I only have a shower. So a "bath" set seems a bit silly and not well thought out. Also, it had more exfoliation tools included in it than you could shake a pumice stone at.... I can tell you with certainty that he has no idea whether I am in any need of exfoliation.
4. I don't have any good toenail polish colors.
5. I am too tired to go to the store to buy any good toenail polish colors.
6. Being tired is making me mad.

So, there you have it. If they would have just given me the damn job I wouldn't have to put you all through this. After all this ranting I should say "I'm sorry," but in reality....

They are sorry.

Or they sure should be.

Caroline's Marshmallow Cookies - By Request

From Grandma Thelma's old cookbook, for Rennratt and Nooze...


Beat 2 eggs and add 1 1/2 cups powdered sugar.

Melt 6 squares semi-sweet chocolate with 3 tablespoons margarine or butter.

Mix first two mixtures together, then add...

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla
1 cup chopped nuts (optional)
6 cups colored miniature marshmallows

Shape into logs, roll in 3/4 cup crushed grahmn crackers.
Wrap in wax paper and refrigerate.

When set, slice into thin pieces.

It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

This holiday weekend has, so far, been fantastic. Friday night the girls and I were invited over to our neighbor's (Natalie, Mistah and Grace) house for a bit of holiday merriment. Natalie had hot buttered rum on her mind, but called me in a panic that there was no hot buttered rum mix to be found in the entire town! (I know! The horror!)

I assured her that all would be fine if we just had a pre-Christmas pirate themed holiday get-together with only the bottles of rum.

Christmas. Pirates. Rum. Yo-ho-ho, it doesn't get any better than that.

Roxy the dog donned her best pirate-y Christmas gear to greet us at the door.


Later into the evening, after imbibing in the Christmas grog, she was a bit more aggressive. Man, I hate mean drunks. Especially the kind that won't give up the squeaky newspaper.

Actually, Mistah ventured out into the night and came back with two of the last three hot buttered rum mixes that were left in all the seven seas - or at least the closest three major grocery stores. The girls erected the Christmas village scene in the window while Mistah, Natalie and I paid respects to good ol' Davey Jones.

Aye. Twas a damn fine party, it was.

Today, I was once again at Natalie's to make Christmas cookies. I tried out an old recipe from my Grandma's cookbook. "Caroline's Marshmallow Cookies." I remember these from when I was a kid. I thought they were the most magical and beautiful cookies ever. But, it is slightly funny that they start out looking like a kitty litter covered cat turd. Merry Christmas!

But, you see, when you slice them, they turn into fanciful stained glass window bits of sugary magic! The cookies on the right are those awesome peanut butter cookies with a Hershey's Kiss on top. They rock. Plus also, Santa loooooves them.

Then, it was on to making the annual treat for the reindeer. I know that many people leave them carrots, but they get very tired of chewing carrots all night long. They get chilled flying through all this weather so we like to whip them up a big batch of Blue Mush. Blue Mush is reindeer's favorite food.

You need quite a bit of blue food coloring to get it just right.

Then, you set it outside on the step. Or if you are in the country you put it in the hayloft of your barn. The reindeer will be happy tonight!

This time of year I think back to when I was little. I distinctly remember my Mom asking me, "Shari, are you excited?"

And in response I would break into tears and run screaming down the hall.

No, dammit! I'm not excited! That's just ridiculous! How the hell would you think I'm excited? Don't be so crazy!

*runs down hall crying hysterically*

I Won! I Won! OhmyGod! I Won!

The results from the voting are in – hanging chads and all – and the winners are as follows:

Third runner up – Daniel!

Second runner up – John!

First runner up, and the person that will succeed Shari if she is unfit to complete her duties – Candice!

And (drumroll, please) your winner of the 2005 1st Annual Ugly Holiday Sweater contest is….

Shari!

And now some words from our lovely winner….


I am pleased and incredibly proud to be chosen for this great honor. Rest assured, I do not take this achievement lightly and will use my role of Miss Ugly Sweater to help eradicate world hunger and promote peace among nations. I would like to thank whoever’s Grandma made the sweater that made this great day possible.

Thank you,

Shari – Miss Ugly Sweater 2006

The President In My Head

This Just In!

Exciting news regarding the Ugly Sweater Contest coming first thing in the morning.....but, now on to bigger and better things.

Sophie informed me when I kissed her goodnight about 30 minutes ago that we all have presidents that live inside our head. They are part of the good germs (the orange ones) and the good germs consist of a president and a whole bunch of guards.

Purple and white germs are bad but they don't live in your head.

I Have The Holiday Spirit

Tomorrow my co-workers and I have decided to have "Ugly Holiday Sweater Day" - the more horrendous the better. The sweaters need to be the kind of thing that invoke speechlessness and/or gales of laughter.

I was hoping to find one that, with a hidden battery would light up a Christmas tree and play "Jingle Bells" in a tinny computerized tone....but I found something better.

I found a sweater that just absolutely screams, "Great Aunt Mimi crocheted this just for you - on her first try!"

I am SO going to win.

Updates!

Maya and Sophie have updated their blogs (links to the right) and should be writing regularly through winter break!

Lucky you!

The Clan of the Cave Bear

In the weeks before I was to find out about the job, I was having a bit of a hard time sleeping. My dreams were snippets of insecurity peppered with powerful visions of flight and world domination. But the one that was the most vivid was dreamt on the night before I was to find out the bad news that I didn't get the job.

I was walking down the back road of the ranch in Montana. It was fall and the grass was brown and tall alongside the ditch. At the time it did not seem strange that I was meandering along with a 5 foot tall, walking-upright badger.

I felt very solemn as I strolled along with my arm around the shoulders (?) of the badger. Emanating from him was a feeling of calm wisdom. I wanted most desperately to talk to him and to have him give me some wise and badger-like advise.

Before I was able to even get started a herd of tourists crested the hill in front of us. It was obvious that they were tourists due to the fact that they all had cameras hanging from cords around their necks, they all wore sunglasses, and under each of their arms was a folding lawn chair. Most of the lawn chairs were the type made by weaving strips of plastic in a checkerboard pattern. And the majority of the chairs were also a weird turquoise color.

Upon seeing the teeming throng of tourists, I dragged the badger down into the dry ditch bed and pulled the long grasses that grew on the side of the ditch bank down over us.

I did not want to be disturbed - especially by a group such as this.

Much to my consternation they throng of chatty tourists (all women, by the way) dropped down into the ditch and began unfolding their lawn chairs - lining each side of the ditch with their touristy madness. The badger and I crouched amongst them covered with our horribly inadequate camouflage of wispy dried plant stems.

At one point I realized that all the tourists knew that we were there, but they tried to politely ignore us. They seemed the types to want to avoid any type of conflict or embarrassment, and this irritated me all the more.

I woke up with a sense of frustration so great I wanted to go immediately out into the world to find any tourist that fit the demographic - a woman, a camera, a fake and uncomfortable smile, and of course that stupid, idiotic folding lawn chair.

It makes me mad just thinking about it.

After finding out that I didn't get the job I wondered if the dream held any message for me. The more I thought about it, the more interpretations I came up with.

Today, after Googling "Badger" images to show a co-worker what a badger looked like I found this.

Now, if you are too lazy to actually click on the link, I am going to include the incredible information that I found below.

Who knew that I had an animal totem? Any of you who know me well will recognize that this is truly the animal that is the essence of me.

All this with no peyote buttons, too....


Cunning badger of the forest,
Guide me to wisdom, truth and light.
All injustices against me,
Wipe clean the slate and set them right.

Aggressiveness, Reliance, Self-Expression

The power of the Badger totem is its aggressiveness and the willingness to fight for what it wants. This aggression can also be turned to healing - for Badger is the keeper of Earth's healing herbs.

Badger people are quick to express their feelings with concern for the consequences. They are often healers who have the courage to use unconventional methods. Badger has the ability to persist to find a cure.

Badger people are often leaders and bosses, the one who will get the job done.

If you have a Badger as a totem, you will likely be solitary but comfortable being alone. You are comfortable within yourself and very self-reliant.

Badger anger can get your out of apathy, but be careful not to cut yourself (or others) to ribbons using.

Badger is a powerful totem when used properly.

To A Friend...

Megan's birthday is today.

I thought and thought about what to do. Gift? No gift? We frequently have discussions regarding the sheer folly of relentless and unnecessary gift giving, so it makes it hard. And she is not the type that I would just easily buy a silly trinket and call it good.

So, my dear Megan, I will just give you these words....


I remember the first time I saw her - I immediately knew I wanted her to be my friend. Do you believe in friends at first sight? I do.

It was the first day of kindergarten for Maya. I was one of those upset Moms, trying to be brave. I felt terrible that I was the only Mom crying. Then I looked across the playground and there was this woman, gathered around her were three of the most beautiful and sweet children I had ever seen. Her hand was resting on the oldest daughters cheek and they were all crying.

immediately I knew that she understood how I felt. That she was the same type of Mother I was. Not better than any of the other Mothers, but just more... exposed.

I secretly watched them throughout that year. Her children had a different look about them. If we had been in the British countryside they would have not looked out of place. Their cheeks were rosier, their clothes simpler yet more beautiful than any of the children around them. And in their eyes was a glint of something secret, something wonderful that only they knew. You almost felt that if you peeked under their hair you may find the pointy ear of an elf or a fairy.

We finally did become friends and I was able to glimpse the world that they lived in that caused that special light in their eye. It comes from the unwavering understanding that they are children that are loved beyond belief. I know of no one that works harder to demonstrate just how special her family is to her than Megan.

Her demonstrations of love are constantly visual. I have the same feeling for my children that Megan has for hers, but I approach it in a different way. I tend to drop everything to give my kids the chance to actively experience something. Megan surrounds them with the tangible and visual comforts. They are both wonderful ways of being with and loving your children.

But I have to say that her way is outwardly more beautiful.

I find that I compare myself to her, and often find myself lacking. I want to be like her. I want my children to dress like hers. I want my house to smell like hers. I want to listen to more music and watch less TV like she does. I want to bake more often. I want to care about the little things like she does.

I want more time to just be around her.

Megan, you are the most amazing woman I know. I don't just say that because it's your birthday...I mean it. You make me want to be a better person.

Happy birthday.

Regression

If my life was a reality show I would be voted off first due to the fact that I would just not be believable to the television audience.

The worst storm in 13 years is currently blowing in with sustained winds of 40-50 mph and gusts up to 90-100 mph. It's a bit intimidating.

While getting ready for what might come (lighting candles, cleaning out the oil lamps and scrounging up extra blankets and bottled water) I noticed a hissing noise coming from the back of the refrigerator. I was thinking that maybe it was a frion leak of some sort. The funny thing is I am not really sure there is such a thing as a frion leak....

After I wrestled the fridge out from its nook I discovered that the water line to the ice maker had a pin hole in it. It shot me in the shin with a tiny, but very strong, stream of water. Desperately I searched for a valve with which to turn off the water that was being fed to this line. To my great dismay there was no valve to speak of, and the water line fed directly into a tiny hole in the floor.

I called the landlords and after a few failed attempts led by their improper memory of the household plumbing, we found the valve....underneath the bathroom sink.

Of course! The bathroom sink! Why didn't I think of that?

During the mop up I realized that the water has done some probably pretty serious water damage to the floor and dry wall in that area.

Bummer, right? Well, that's not all!

Shortly thereafter I discovered that there was no hot water AND the kitchen stove was not working. They are both electric and are nestled in the same wall as the spouting refrigerator (from now on refered to as "Old Faithful").

Can you all say dangerous electrical fire hazard, everyone?

Unfortunately, after I turned the valve underneath the sink to the off position, it began to leak. I did not know this right away, but disovered it because I stepped in the puddle on the floor created by the water slowly but surely cascading through all the items in my bathroom cabinet and drip, drip, dripping onto the floor.

After cleaning up that particular mess, I started dinner by determining what I had in my refrigerator and freezer that could be reheated in the microwave. Dinner ended up being a can of green beans, shrimp steamed in by cool countertop steamer thing-a-ma-jig, and microwaved left over mashed potatos.

I now have a sneaking suspicion that my freezer and refrigerator cooling levels are no longer at optimum levels of iciness so my next project will be transfering the contents of this freezer into the larger pantry freezer that still seems to be functioning.

Oh, and I still need to heat up enough water in the microwave to be able to do the dishes.

At any moment I am convinced that my home will morph into a sod roofed cabin in the middle of the American prarie surrounded by an immense heard of large and aggresive buffalo.

I am off to go find my calico dress and butter churn....

PS- if the wind blows one of the numerous 100 foot tall douglas fir trees onto my house or car tonight I am going to very pissed off.

Its Slap Your Mama Good!

The problem with being a terrible blogger is all the time between posts seems to run all my good stories together.

Sorry about that.

Part of the problem is a bit of depression due to the fact that I did not get the job I was so fervently hoping I would. Damn. It really sucks. But what's worse is the guy that got the job totally deserves it, has more experience than I do and will be fantastic at it. If only I could spout off about "glass ceilings" and "unfair interviews" and whatever else.

But alas, I cannot. Oh well. Moving on....


Maya had her school musical extravaganza on Monday. It's mostly the entire 4th, 5th and 6th grades singing various songs. They have what they hope to be entertaining interludes between songs. Maya was slated to be a polka dancer in one of these interludes. The worst, but at the same time most entertaining thing, was that they couldn't get the polka music to play. The poor kids eventually did all their kick-ass polka moves sans music.

It was actually pretty good in a "Stomp" sort of way.

The second ever piano recital was Sunday. This last spring was the first ever piano recital - to be always known by "The Recital That Maya Almost Puked She Was So Nervous". I am happy to report that she was not nervous this time and nailed her song. (It had legato on the bottom hand and staccatto on the top - all you piano people know how hard that is!)

Sophie is that strange kid that never gets nervous. She loves the crowd and the crowd loves her. She skipped up to the piano and banged through (with a really rough spot during "Jingle Bells") her two songs. Afterward, she shot the audience her killer one-toothed smile and skipped back off the stage to high-five me.

We were the only people that high-fived after a performance. I can't imagine why.....

Anyway, warts and all, Sophie's performance definately drew the most chuckles and loud applause. Knowing how to work the crowd really has its advantages.

And finally, the last subject....

The girls informed me around Thanksgiving that the most important - nay, VITAL - thing on their Christmas lists this year was a Nintendo DS with the Animal Crossing game. They both want one.

I tried to disuade them by using the best distractions I could come up with. I even told them, "You really need to think about this. Remember that I have a budget for Christmas and if you both want this as a present it is very likely you will get nothing else from me. Think about it and let me know."

A day later they both informed me that if they got nothing else for Christmas but this thing that they would be the happiest kids on earth.

Well, I really had some clothes and other small incidentals in mind so I was trying for quite a while to figure out how to come up with the $300 that it would cost to get them both this game system.

I decided that I would make my (not mine really, but my Mom's) famous Peanut Brittle and try selling it at my company's holiday bazaar. I spent $35 on ingredients and the paper to make the boxes.

I MADE THE BOXES!

It's all about profitability.

By the end of this weekend I had $18 boxes premade. That, my good friends, is an extreme amount of slaving over a hot stove. If I never smell peanut anything ever again, I will be a happy woman.

Today was the bazaar. I sold out all 18 boxes and have orders to deliver 16 more boxes on Monday of next week. All in all I grossed $340 and more importantly I cleared $305! That's $5 over plan.

I owe it all to my fantastic marketing skills. I had small signs up stating important peanut brittle facts like:

"It makes you smarter!"

"You will be better looking""

"It promotes healthy gum tissue!"

"All your friends are buying it!"

And the ringer was the sign below. The name for my enterprise was just a streak of genius. "Slap Your Mama Good Peanut Brittle" was the hit of the Holiday Bazaar. I allowed everyone free samples, but only if their Mama was not with them, as I didn't want violence to erupt.

I might just have to hire myself out for some consulting.

Santa and Firetrucks

The town I grew up in is incredibly similar to the one that I now reside. They are both small communities - this one is much bigger than the one in Montana, but the feel is still the same. They have the same era of architecture and both have roots in ranching and farming.

I could not wait to leave Montana and explore the wide world. I lived for awhile in Seattle proper. It was fantastic and I would still be there if it weren't for the kids. It's not that it isn't a good place to raise children, it's just that I could have never afforded the space needed for a family.

So, now I live in a nearly carbon copy of the town I couldn't wait to leave - and strangely enough, I love it here.

My neighbors (Natalie, Mistah and Grace), the girls and I all went to the annual Santa parade on Saturday. While the kids pushed their way to the front, the good candy procuring spots, the three of us adults hung back. We still had a great view of the parade and and even better view of the parade crowd.

The parade has very few floats and marching bands but tries valiantly to make up for it with car clubs and Boy and Girl Scout troops. It's not much, but somehow it is just right.

At the end of the parade is what everyone in town is waiting for - Santa on the firetruck.

Santa on a firetruck is pretty damn exciting if you think about it. But it is really just the signal for all of the people of this town that the Christmas season has begun.

You see, Santa doesn't just go back to the North Pole after his jaunt down Main Street. He hangs out here all month. The firetruck stays decorated with millions of miniature multi-colored lights. The Christmas carols still blare from loud speakers. Santa is on top of the fire truck in his bright spotlight.

Every evening volunteers from all of our town's fire departments jog behind the slow-moving, brightly-lit musical truck. Everyone runs from their houses at the sound of the super slow siren mixed with Christmas carols to wave madly at Santa. He always waves back, and often the truck comes to a stop if there are over three or four kids that have come to greet him.

All the hunky firemen hand out candy canes to each child, mother, father, grandparent and stray passer-by.

They go around town for about 3 hours every evening from the end of the Christmas parade through to Christmas eve. Each and every street of town is canvased. No child is left behind.

Tonight was our night.

I freaked out when I heard the siren because the girls had been invited to go downtown with the neighbors for dinner. I literally jumped up and down with worry, called Natalie on the off chance that they had not left yet.

They hadn't.

The three girls poured out of Natalie's house with no less fervor than they have ever had in years before. Santa was still as brightly lit, the music was still as loud (and the firemen were still as adorable....ahem...).

And the light in their eyes burned as brightly as it did the years that I was still absolutely sure they still believed in Santa.

From what I saw tonight, I think they are still safe in their belief this year.

What I Did On My Winter Vacation

Wow. Who knew what could happen when you drop off the face of the earth for two weeks?

I missed my first ever hate comment. Ant's blog disappeared. Anika did something that I'm not sure is totally public so I won't say what it is yet.

Things just went absolutely nuts.

To all that have emailed me, I am getting back to you all....eventually. Really.

The girls and I went back to Montana to spend the Thanksgiving holiday. I haven't been back for Thanksgiving or Christmas since 1995 and I was concerned that it would be hard to not partake in my new family rituals. But it was fantastic.

I miss the blue skies and puffy clouds of Montana -"The Big Sky Country". I now realize what that means, living in Seattle -"Clouds Hover Over 100 Yards Over Your Head All Winter Country".

I was so excited to see snow, but as it happened the only snow was on the mountain passes between Idaho and Montana. The really ironic thing is I went all the way to Montana and geared the girls up for snow, and then we came home to this....

This kind of snow paralyzes everything in this area. I know, it sounds silly, but school was cancelled for three days. All the better to extend my vacation!

It was hunting season in Montana and we were lucky enough to snap this picture of a baby moose grazing safely among the cows. Smart moose.

And this is my Mom's own version of wildlife - the cat Blinky. He is almost an exact replica of Pepper, our cat, but he is older, male and well...he's stranger. He takes great pleasure in lying on my Mom's heated tile floor in front of the shower.

I suppose if we had a heated tile floor in front of our shower Pepper would abandon herself in sleep like this. I could happen.

There will be more posts soon, but I wanted to get this one out there if only for practice.

Oh! I have gone through all stages of interviewing as of this Monday for that new position at work. I really want it. Keep your fingers crossed for me, I will find out by the end of the week.

It's good to be back.