If Swallowed, Induce Vomiting

Something New

2008-01-03T07:55:00.001-08:00

I have been thinking of doing this for awhile....don't hate me.

I have transferred my blog to Wordpress. Will you still visit? Will you give me your opinion? Will you update any links and keep me on your Blogroll?

Please come...

ifswallowed.wordpress.com

The Best Year Yet

2008-01-02T19:31:00.000-08:00

It has been a long time since I mourned the passing of a new year.

For quite some time I have welcomed the new year with a "Man, I'm glad that's over. Hopefully it will be better this year" mentality.

Looking back on 2007 I feel nothing but sadness in seeing it retreat. It was the year that I finally clawed my way into a position (dare I say career?) that actually pays the bills. It was the year that my house really became MY HOUSE. It was the year that John (the ex) no longer had control of me. It was the year that the girls really came into their own in many ways. It was the year that I finally felt solid in my friendships.

I am sad to see it go.

What in the world can 2008 hold? I know one thing for sure...it will be the year of painting the kitchen red. It will be the year of ripping up the living room carpet to reveal the awesome old wood floor beneath. It will be the year I plant some sort of perennial in the yard. It will be the year that I let go of resentments that I have been holding for so long that they have become a safety net. It will be a year of adventure and laughter with my girls. And it will be the year that my only resolution is to blog more often.

I'm excited.

Little Christmas Eve

2007-12-24T14:50:00.000-08:00

Today is Christmas Eve, but more importantly, yesterday was Little Christmas Eve. This is a holiday that I always thought my Grandpa Lars made up in order to have an excuse to eat lutefisk, pickled herring and fish eggs. But it seems like he came by it honestly, bringing it from the old country....

December 23rd: “Lille julaften” - “Little Christmas Eve”
Most Norwegians decorate their Christmas tree in the evening of Dec. 23. The decorating of the house and the tree is done by the entire family.
There is a start in the top of the tree, and electric candles-shaped lights on the branches. Tinsel, hearts, angels, nisser and sometimes flags are a part of the tree decoration. Heart shaped christmas baskets made of colored, glossy paper is a decoration which s widely used.

I decided to have a get together in honor of this most wondrous of holidays. Taking a page from Grandpa's book it would give me a reason to drink wine and take pictures of my friends in front of the Barbie tree. As you can see, the true reason for the holiday (the decorating of the tree and giving of baskets) was lost on both him and me.

Pickled herring. Bring it on.

Since my house is very small and I had invited 8 grownups and 6 children I made the executive decision to allow the girls to open up their biggest surprise gift last night. I have been working madly since Thanksgiving to convert this little outbuilding in the backyard into a super cool pre-teen hang-out room.

It all started when I found an air hockey table on Craigslist for $35. Soon after the lime green papasan chair was found using the same wonderful website (also $35). My boss donated a rug, my friend some beautiful drapery panels, I bought a double bean bag chair ($50) and we used the desk and an easel to "art-up" a corner of the room. Eric and Natalie, the best ever neighbors spent four hours on Saturday helping me pull it all together. Without them I could have never been able to do this......

We needed to do this as soon as possible into the night in order to off-load the numerous children that we had no room for in the main house. I love that video. I love Sophie's screams, but what I love most is Maya, at the very end, looks over at me with the I-am-going-to-cry-in-front-of-all-these-people face and shakes her hand at me. Maybe being her mother allows me to see how overwhelmed she is....if you didn't pick up on it watch again, it is wonderful.

The rest of the night was spent in the company of wonderful weird friends. The room was filled with laughter and craziness. Also? I received the most incredible gift I think I have ever received....

Sean made it! Isn't it breathtaking! Here is a closer picture....

Oh! We took prom pictures in front of the tree, too!!

The following picture really sums up the night for me......

Oh...I almost forgot. This party was brought to you by the letter "T" -

And the number pi -

Grandpa would be so proud.

Water, Water Everywhere But Not a Drop To Drink

2007-12-11T18:00:00.000-08:00

This last week saw the most rainfall in on day ever recorded for Seattle and surrounding area.

That's a lot of rain.

South of here in a town called Chehalis, Interstate 5 was under 8-10 feet of water. Here is an aerial photo to help illustrate the craziness:

Isn't that amazing? The Interstate is actually under the water - the road pieces that you see are the elevated exit ramps. Yikes.

The "God Clouds" lend a 40-days-and-40-nights sort of effect that I really like.

I remember learning from my Dad many things regarding rain and the weather in general while growing up on the ranch in Montana. He is the one that taught me that rain or blustery weather is coming about a day after you see the horsetail clouds high in the sky. I knew almost exactly how much time I had to get back to the house once the thunderclouds rolled over the mountains to the west of us. I knew how much rain it took to fill puddles to a certain level. One-tenth of an inch filled the regular small puddles, one-fifth of an inch overfilled the small puddles and surprising random puddles would show up. At one-half inch or more the possibility of a "gully-washer" loomed and I would excitedly monitor the end of the lane for gushing mini-rivers from the mountain.

He explained the differences in the soil. There was the clay and the sandy loam. They caused the water to behave differently. While flood irrigating (see "Surface Irrigation" in this Wikipedia article for explanation) I was always amazed that he knew the topography of every field and how the soil would accept the water. If you ran the water over one specific area of the field for a specific number of hours you could irrigate a totally different and separate part of the field just by understanding the geology involved in the water table.

Dry fields actually "boil" as water running over the dry ground absorbs into the ground around the alfalfa. The water replaces the air pockets in the ground and if you stand really still and listen you could hear the whispering agricultural hot-tub of bubbles.

I loved flood irrigating.

My Mom called to make sure that I was okay this weekend. I was explaining to her that I don't even need to watch the news anymore to know how much rain has fallen. We have had an inch of rain in 24 hours if I get a large puddle at the end of my driveway. We have had two inches of rain if I get a corresponding puddle in front of the steps.

This rain was different. Yes, first I got the end-of-the-driveway puddle, then the in-front-of-the-steps puddle - but I found out when we get 5+ inches of rain in a 24 hour period my entire driveway fills with about 1-2 inches of standing water.

"Well, now I know how to measure that kind of rain," I told her.

She was really quiet for a few seconds.

"Wow. You sound exactly like your Dad. He was always talking about how much rain filled up what puddles around here. I had forgotten about that," she said.

The above reminiscence would have never happened without her statement. I had forgotten all about it, too. It is amazingly comforting that silly things like rain vs. puddle measurement can be so deftly connected back to him. It assures me to think that in some ways I display something, anything, that was once his.

That is the best Christmas present of all for me.

Tis the Season

2007-12-03T20:59:00.000-08:00

The girls and I have been talking.

We've been talking their entire lives. About anything and everything. They are smart and well-rounded and funny as hell.

And they totally get it.

They brought up the conversation about how artificial Christmas is. It started with them laughing hysterically at some toy commercials. They are sharp enough to point out that Bratz dolls, Barbies and My Scene dolls are all one in the same. Sophie noticed that if parents aren't willing to buy Bratz, they will probably let their kids have My Scene dolls. And everyone seems pretty fine with Barbies.

"I bet they are all by the same company Mom. That way they get the money no matter what. I don't want any Barbies this year. Everyone buys them for us and we have a hundred. I don't even play with them. What a waste of money."

Then we discussed artificial Christmas trees versus real. I like the idea of real, but love the ease of use of artificial. Our old artificial tree was showing its age, so we "Freecycled" it. When out shopping for another I kept walking back and forth in front of this tree thinking, "Oh no. I can't. Can I? Is it ridiculous? Oh my god, I love it. But I can't. Can I?" and on and on.

Finally I did.

The whole Christmas theme was identified. And the girls came up with the final them out of a few different contenders. It is.....

"Have an Artificial Christmas!"

Playing Hobos

2007-11-26T21:48:00.000-08:00

I was called home from work at 2 pm today due to the fact that Sophie was running a 102 degree fever. Again.

Now the last fever, although posted about yesterday, happened all the way back on Thursday.

I have been wondering....did she have this fever all weekend and I just didn't notice? I didn't take her temperature again after the throwing up night. She seem perky and cool to the touch.

Is this a re-occurrence or a continuance?

Damn. I hate to think she was feeling puny all weekend. It is hard to tell with her. Sometimes she just won't complain. If something better comes along than feeling sick, I swear that girl will just up and choose it. Can't fool those school nurses, though. They are tough hombres (or hombrecitas).

The funniest thing about fevers are the delusions. (That is written purely sarcastically, by the way.) Earlier this evening Sophie piped up from her pillow propped place on the couch with this gem...

"Mom? When I'm in 5th grade and can take band, I want to play the hobo."

It's Not Thanksgiving Until Somebody Throws Up

2007-11-25T21:46:00.000-08:00

Ah...Thanksgiving.

Once again, the day held may things to be grateful for....

John, the girls' Dad came. Sophie got in a bit of trouble when she adamantly refused to walk with him the few blocks to the store for dish soap. I could not figure out why she was so unwilling to do this. It was a beautiful day...we walk to the store all the time....but the day went on after a time out and a large amount of grumpiness from John.

It is a tradition at our house to get our tired and over-stuffed butts in the car and drive a few miles to see "Fantasy Lights" (a Christmas light extravaganza in a local park - not some weird porn-esque lighting store). Thanksgiving day is the first day that it opens, and it runs through New Year's. For $13 you can stuff as many people in one car as possible and drive through the park with your headlights off to view the crazy and random light displays. Some are beautiful. Some are funny. And some are just plain weird. I submit the following for your enjoyment....

The rest of these are very short videos. It seemed easier than blinding everyone that was driving in the dark with my camera flash. Please ignore the blasting heater and random conversations....

Since we do live by one of the most dangerous volcanoes in the world, why not celebrate that fact with Christmas lights!

Santa is going a bit more high-tech this year...

You can't catch me...

Santa-Hog....

And these were REALLY cool in person...and HUGE!

When we got home Sophie was complaining of a pounding headache. I reached out to rub her forehead and realized that she was absolutely burning up. She had a fever of 103 degrees and spent the rest of the evening in bed with me throwing up. It's a wonderful life. Amazingly, she was completely recovered by 6:00 am and we went about as everything was normal for the rest of the weekend.

No wonder she didn't want to walk to the store with her Dad, eh?

Stay tuned for day-after Christmas decorations and theme explanation!

Thanks.

2007-11-21T21:29:00.001-08:00

Not to be too dorky, but I really am thankful for everything in my life.

I am so lucky to have my girls, my house, my friends (that means you, too!). I love this time of the year and can't wait to get it all officially kick started tomorrow. Today, Maya made the pumpkin pie, Sophie made the homemade cranberry sauce, I brined the turkey....All is exactly as it should be.

I love you guys.

Here are some funny recipes from kindergartner's that you should read, but maybe not try out on the relatives tomorrow...

Ivette - Banana Pie:
You buy some bananas and crust. Then you mash them up and put them in the pie. Then you eat it.

Geremy - Turkey
You buy the turkey and take the paper off. Then you put it in the refrigerator and take it back out and cut it with a knife and make sure all the wires are out and take out the neck and heart. Then you put it in a big pan and cook it for half an hour at 80 degrees. Then you invite people over and eat.

Shelby - Applesauce
Go to the store and buy some apples, and then you squish them up. Then you put them in a jar that says, "Applesauce." Then you eat it.

Christa - Cookies
Buy some dough and smash it and cut them out. Then put them in the oven for 2 hours at 100 degrees. Then take them out and dry them off. Then it's time to eat them.

Grace - Turkey
First you add some salt. Then you put it in a bowl. Then you put brown sugar on it. Then you mix it all together with a spoon and then you add some milk and mix it again. And then you put it in a pan. Then you put it in the oven for 15 minutes and 16 degrees. Then you take it out of the oven and then you eat it.

Jordan Si. - Chocolate Pudding
Buy some chocolate pudding mix. Then you add the milk. Then you add the pudding mix. Then you stir it. Then you put it in the refrigerator and wait for it to get hard. Then you eat it.

Jennie - Corn
My mom buys it. Then you throw it. Then you cook it. Then you eat it.

Nicholas - White and Brown Pudding
First you read the wrapper. Get a piece of water. Stir. Then you eat it.

Wai - Pumpkin Pie
Get a pumpkin. Cook it. Eat it.

Lauren - Turkey
First you find a turkey and kill it. Cut it open. Put it in a pan. Pour milk in the pan. Put a little chicken with it. Put salsa on it. Take out of pan. Put it on the board. Cut into little pieces. Put on a rack. Put in the oven for 7 minutes at 10 degrees. Take out of the oven and put eensy weensy bit of sugar on it. Put a little more salsa on it. Then you eat it.

The Secret to Holiday Stress

2007-11-20T21:03:00.000-08:00

No, it's not yoga. Or volunteering. Or spending time with family and friends.

It's choosing a smart-ass theme.

This year the girls and I are really on the same page. We were discussing how ridiculous people get around Thanksgiving and Christmas. I have been hearing the "Oh my God, I'm so stressed out!" crap already. It is really just a state of mind - a choice.

If you don't want to stress out, don't. Tell everyone you know, "You know, this year I am refusing to stress out over the holidays. Therefore, I am not going to be able to attend your holiday party, Thanksgiving feast, shopping expedition, etc."

I have been doing this for the past five years and it is amazing how many people are not put off by this demand for no stress and personal space. They are so stressed themselves that your refusal is immediately replaced in their minds with little Johnny's Christmas list and the latest grocery necessities.

It may even insult you a bit, realizing how completely unimportant you really are in the hustle and bustle of another person's "holiday". Oh....but it is worth it!

I can't give my theme away until it is finished and ready to be posted with pictures, but I can tell you that the following picture has something to do with it.

Leave your "Shari's Holiday Theme" guess in the comments....

You Better Be Careful Or Your Face Will Stick Like That

2007-11-13T21:11:00.000-08:00

This picture of Maya (circa 2003 and first grade) always makes me gasp. A first grade girls should not look like that. I remember buying her that dress. It was cotton with embroidered butterflies. It had long sleeves that came down over the tops of her hands in little V's. The skirt was also in a V shape in the front and back. On the rack the dress looked so adorable. So little-girl.

On Maya, it looked completely different.

She takes my breath away to this day with her beauty. The thing about it, though, is she always backs it up in spirit.

Tonight I came home to two breathless girls begging me to go to their schools "Skate Night". It is held a Tiffany's Skate Inn Roller Rink here in town, and it is always horrible (for me). It's cold in there - unless you are skating - crowded, loud, and lasts from 6:30 - 8:30, rendering the entire evening useless for anything else.

I am mean and I said "No".

The begged and pleaded more. The finished their homework without me asking. They offered to pay their own way in. There was nothing to do but relent.

I knew immediately why it was so important for Maya to be there the minute I pulled up. See that kid in the upper left corner of the picture making the crazy face? Yeah? That's Mikey. Maya loves Mikey and always has. This year (5th grade) it is something a little more than just thinking he is really funny and wanting to sit by him because he tells good jokes.

This year she wants to skate with him.

Oh God.

Of all the kids in her class, if forced to choose, I would also choose Mikey for Maya to have her first little crush on. Mikey is funny. He is fast in races. He is actually polite. He came to Maya's violin recital last year even though he played no instrument. Mikey is okay in my book.

So far.

As I was walking out of Tiffany's Skate Inn last night Mikey's Mom tapped me on the shoulder. I have always liked her, but don't really know her. I know that she volunteers in the class a lot. I know that she is quiet and reserved and has a kind face. These things make a good first impression as far as I am concerned.

Mikey's Mom said, "I just wanted to tell you something. If I had a daughter, I would want her to be just like Maya. I see the girls in her class starting to really play some mean games with each other this year, and Maya doesn't do it. She is so caring and good. If Mikey ever brings someone like Maya home someday, I will be the happiest Mother in the world."

Wow. That is some good stuff for a parent to hear.

I am so proud to know that my daughter comes across to the world as I have always felt she comes across to me....

But Mikey better not get to friendly or I will make his face stick like that.

Piano Practice

2007-11-10T20:29:00.000-08:00

The girls have started practicing their pieces for the December recitals. I am so proud of how far they have come since they started piano. I wanted a before and after for them to compare their early practice with their recital playing...

Sorry about the lighting and shakiness....

Extreme Personal Hygeine

2007-11-04T20:46:00.000-08:00

It was Sophie's turn to go grocery shopping with her Dad this Sunday. He comes every Sunday EARLY in the morning (7 AM for Chrissakes) and takes them alternately to the store. This is his contribution, I suppose. It could be worse, it could be better. It is what it is.

Every time each girls seems to talk him into something. A DVD. A Nintendo DS game. Shoes. Something. It gets a bit ridiculous, but who am I to judge what he spends his money on? I just don't want them spoiled - but it seems I'm poor enough to offset any spoilage that might happen on his end.

This Sunday Sophie came bursting through the door with her latest prize. You would have thought it was a puppy as breathlessly over-stimulated as she was. No. It was not a puppy. It was a nose-hair trimmer.

(Thanks to the nose-hair trimming people for the image.)

Yes. A nose-hair trimmer. For nose hair. For old man nose-hair (and the occasional stubborn ear beard, I suppose).

I do admit that Sophie has a prodigious amount of hair in her nose. But it is IN HER NOSE. It is not visible. It is normal.

I don't know if she was teased at school, but if she was I would have thought it would follow normal Sophie patterns. She would cry. She would pound on her pillow. She would be dramatic. But this nose hair thing came in completely under the radar. And she wasn't at all shy about wanting this thing. She ripped it from the box and started explaining all of it's features.

It was silver and shiny.
It trimmed nose AND ear hair.
It came with a little brush that you could clean the nose hairs off after trimming was over.
It was washable.

It was insane.

For the next 30 minutes Sophie was in the bathroom giggling uproariously and trimming like crazy. Every now and then I'd hear, "It tickles!" and "Whoa! That was a good one!".

I could not get her to stop following me around the rest of the day begging to be allowed the chance to trim my nose hair. I refused and touted all the wonders of nose hair. She looked up my nostrils and said, "Mom, it's a jungle up there. C'mon. Can I?"

It has not happened, but I don't put it past her to do it while I'm sleeping.

Boo

2007-10-31T21:13:00.001-07:00

Diabetic sugar coma encroaching....

Can't write...can't think straight.....4 hours of trick or treating....

Speaking of a Drawer Full of Toys....

2007-10-29T19:32:00.000-07:00

Wonderful Christine's comment on the previous post made me realize that I have a story that I have not shared with hardly anyone....and would not have necessarily wanted to share. Unfortunately, a few years ago I made a vow to never keep anything secret that anyone could possibly hold over my head.

Sometimes that vow really sucks. But I suppose I would rather just tell everyone now before Sophie decides to blog about it when she gets a bit older and realizes just how funny the story really is....

In my first long period of celibacy (yes, this is my second period of celibacy thank-you-very-much) I was coming up on my second year anniversary of no sex. I decided right then that I would either need to lay myself right down and have a big ole cry OR....I could have a party. That was that day that my Celibacy Celebration was born. My period of celibacy lasted three years, enough to have two Celibacy Celebrations AND a Shari Got Her Groove Back Party.

The first party was met with some confusion and embarrassment by my friends. But enough Margaritas into it, they begun to understand. One of my "friends" went up to the DJ in the club we were in and had him announce to all present that it was my second year of celibacy and everyone should congratulate me, etc. Amazingly enough, the intelligence level at this particular establishment was such that for the rest of the evening, really drunk men kept slurring "Happy Birfday Sweetheart"'s. I was not impressed. And the celibacy thing started really making a whole lot of sense right about then.

The second year people were really ready. There were gifts. There was food (Penis-shaped Pasta Salad, mini wieners, plastic cutlery with anatomically correct handles....). One of the gag gifts was a tiny vibrator in a case about the size of a Life Savers package. It (the package) had the multi-colored rings and the words "It's a Lifesaver!" on the outside.

The "Lifesaver" has resided in my underwear drawer ever since.

Ahem. Moving on.....

This summer, during one of the many barbecues, Sophie came running out onto the deck with the Lifesaver package in her hand.

"Mom! What's this? I thought it was candy, but look! What is it?" she said as she took the vibrator out of the package.

I moved very, very fast.

Amazingly enough, everyone who was at the party had been distracted only moments earlier by my neighbor Eric, and had gone over to his house. The only person who witnessed the disaster was Natalie (neighbor and wife to Eric).

Oh my God we laughed hard. And Sophie knew that what she had done was incredibly funny, although she didn't know why. She also recognized immediately that this incident had the miraculous power to make me immediately embarrassed and willing to threaten her with horrific bodily injury if she tried to tell the story to anyone.

I suppose that I didn't threaten the correct person in this situation. The other evening as I was leaving Natalie and Eric's house (the girls were spending the night over there with their friend Grace) I heard words that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

Eric said, "Good night. Maybe you can spend your evening with a roll of Lifesavers."

Natalie is totally going to get it.

Go Kiss Yourself

2007-10-25T18:02:00.000-07:00

Grrr....

I think that Autumn has the same effect on me that Spring has on most people. Hmmmm....I'm impatient. I want to travel. I want to be surrounded by people. I want....I want to have crazy anonymous monkey sex with almost any random passer-by.

Don't worry I won't actually do it. Its just that I want to.

In reality, I can have perfectly good sex with myself. It is even more likely to be more satisfying. I can handle that. I could maybe go for the rest of my life not having sex with anyone - but I miss kissing.

You can't kiss yourself.

It Takes A Village To Get My Children To Piano Lessons

2007-10-24T20:16:00.000-07:00

My old car, as some of you know, was the Minty Squirrel.

There has been a man who has been actually knocking on my door to get me to sell it to him for the last few months. I just have to get the paperwork together and the deed will be done.

I'm dragging my feet a bit....

I don't drive much. We live close enough to things in the downtown area of our small town that we walk most of the places we go. I take the train to work. We even take the bus on the weekends most places.

But we always drive to piano lessons.

I have taken the bus a few times. But piano lessons are on Monday at 6 pm. The girls are tired. I am tired. The last thing we really feel like doing is hoofing it to the bus and waiting, going through lessons, hoofing it back to the stop - waiting, then walking home. And it rains here. Sometimes pretty hard. Sometimes all winter.

Our "newer" car (actually a pretty old and very high-mileage Honda Accord) has a few, shall we say, issues. It does not like to start on sunny days. Or exceptionally hot days. Or relatively humid, cloudy days.

Or piano-lesson Mondays.

I have tried everything. For awhile, it seemed if I backed it into the driveway, there was a higher probability that it would start. If not, I opened the hood and turned on the AC or heater fan for a few minutes and it would start. Sometimes jiggling the battery cable connections would seem to get it to go. And, if the battery was corroded, a little Diet Coke dribbled on them would occasionally help start the engine.

I admit it, in my mind, I have even begun to "sneak up" on the car pretending to only need to get a CD out of the stereo, then quickly and much to its surprise (I'm sure) turn the key in the ignition and smash down spastically on the gas pedal.

Amazingly, all of these techniques have worked at some time or another. I must admit now that the myriad of techniques and the sporadic nature of their efficacy really just means that the damn car starts only when it wants to.

Natalie is used to my angry 5:30 pm on Monday calls requesting an hour's use of her car. She has never failed to be there when it is at all possible. This Monday she was gone, but offered the use of her old Mercedes.

The old Mercedes did not start.

I was about to give up when my other fantastic across-the-street neighbor, Adam, walked up to me and tossed me the keys to his truck. AND THEN, he carried three huge pumpkins across the street and began arranging them on my front step as we drove hurriedly away yelling, "Thank you! I'll make you cookies!"

I made cookies the next day, all the while thinking that I came incredibly close to not living on this street....to not living next to the car-lending neighbors....to not having the chance of speeding away in a strange vehicle watching someone decorate my front step with huge gourds.

Wow. That was a close one.

It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

2007-10-23T16:03:00.000-07:00

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells

- John Keats "To Autumn"

I Was Visited By The Establishment

2007-10-20T08:18:00.000-07:00

The title of this post could actually properly capture two different visits I had this week.

First, my Mom came out to visit for 4 days. It was wonderful. We went window shopping (for real windows) and looked at endless paint samples. We went to the beach. We went to the Pumpkin Patch. I have pictures.

The title of this post, however, points to a different visit.....my second visit from ANT (all the way from Scotland)!

Last year I was lucky enough to be able to have him over for a barbecue at my house. It was type of visit that was surrounded with friends and food and music and craziness - a good first "meet your blogger friend" meeting. Meeting him this time was in a more one-on-one setting at the Six Arms pub in Seattle:

It was so fun. It is a strange feeling to be meeting someone for only the second time, but know the majority of the main stories of their life. Much of the evening was spent saying, "I blogged about this, but..." and "Oh yeah! I read about that...". I suppose it is no surprise that two bloggers never ran out things to talk about. The first time I asked about the time, it was 5 hours into the conversation, and I felt cheated that it hadn't been long enough.

I'm already starting to look for the next meeting place for when he comes back next time.

Haunted

2007-10-10T08:32:00.000-07:00

I have started riding the last car of the train on the way in to work. I found that I can just walk around the end of the train and then directly to the parking garage without the ordeal of going up and over the walkway. Vertigo and stairs do not go well together.

The last car is an interesting place. It seems that many old people ride on the last car. Today, I found a seat across from two women – one who was doing the “I am sitting here with my eyes closed and ignoring you and pretending to sleep” thing, and another who had an inordinate amount of makeup on. The makeup lady decided to do the “sleep” thing, too, so I was sitting there – wide awake – staring at her eye makeup and super shiny lipstick.

You might think this is bad enough…but it gets worse. The lady by the window decided to prove my “pretend” sleeping theory wrong by beginning to snore. Not dainty little snores, but rattlely, snorty and somewhat horribly embarrasing snores. And nobody acknowleged it. Everyone just keep doing what they were doing. Not one person was willing to look at her or even smirk at her sad situation. I felt very alone. And eventually irritated at the snoring.

I moved. Just across the aisle to a group of seats that was only occupied by a middle aged man – a completely awake man – reading a book. I felt he looked alert enough to possibly make it all the way to Kent without snoring and drooling all over the place. Amazingly enough, snoring woman slept soundly (no pun intended) through both the Sumner and the Auburn stops without once being roused from her slumber. At Auburn my area of seats filled up with a woman (sitting next to me) that smelled strongly of cigarettes and beer (freshly drunk beer – not the “I got drunk last night on beer and didn’t brush my teeth this morning” beer smell) and a woman who – I kid you not – was a witch.

The witch wasn’t wearing a pointy hat and carrying a broom, she was partially disguised as a librarian. She was very tall and painfully thin with a large hooked nose. She carried a big umbrella, the kind that looks like a cane, and wore an orange Halloween sweatshirt with a black sequined cat on the front. I was a little bit scared. She had a long black coat on with a fur collar (probably black cat fur harvested during a full moon) and pointy black witchy shoes. She had a large black bag, the contents of which I can only imagine.

As I disembarked, I had to wonder if this last car thing is really a good idea. Maybe falling down the stairs would be less painful, overall.

Enough!

2007-10-04T07:26:00.000-07:00

After another scary dream about Sophie being hit by a car and bumping her head really hard on a curb - I have decided that I am internalizing way too much of her elementary school angst.

Monday at dinner she completely broke down at the table and cried, telling me that she no longer wanted to be tall. Considering that I am 6 feet tall and her father is 6'5" - I don't think she has much choice in the matter.

Apparently, her friend Kayla gets a lot of attention when she falls down. Kayla is tiny. Really, really tiny. Disturbingly small in an almost unhealthy way. She is one of those kids that has translucent skin - you can see that big vein that runs over her jaw line. Sophie said that everyone worries so much about Kayla if she hurts herself, but no one really rushes to Sophie if she has some sort of schoolyard wreck.

The entire time I am thinking..."That's because you are bouncy and happy and the healthiest looking kid I have ever seen - and, you can laugh at yourself."

Please, please don't let her start hating her height. Or anything about herself. It is too soon.

Why is "fragile" so attractive? For once I would love to see kids on the school yard (or hell even adults in life) demand a little strength from their friends. A little daring. Some spark for Christ's sake! Isn't picking yourself up, dusting yourself off and moving on with a laugh a hell of a lot more interesting than laying in a puddle of your own weakness?

It's time for a seriously goofy family outing. The beach, or a cabin in the San Juans - and a bit of daring, devil-may-care adventure.

For my girls, living a good life will never mean needing to have someone there to pick them up, if I have anything to say about it!

Lions and Tigers and Bears and Mothers

2007-10-01T11:19:00.000-07:00

I tend to get mean every Sunday at 5:00 pm.

It seems to come as a surprise every damn weekend that I have put off laundry, floor mopping, vacuuming, etc. until that time. It's not like I really put them off....but it's just that is is never finished. Although I might clean the kitchen 6 times throughout the span of a weekend, it is inevitably a mess at 5:00 pm on Sunday.

And then I start nagging the girls.

"Why don't you guys ever voluntarily help me?"

"Why do I always have to ask you to pick up your dirty clothes?"

"Have you practiced the piano?"

"Have you done your homework?"

"I let you play ALL weekend, don't you dare give me any lip about helping me now!"

It is all true. I have valid points. But it is only valid if I try something different to change the outcome of my weekend, and I haven't. I am usually very good about putting things in perspective - realizing that they have never done this thing called "growing up" before and I am there to help them through. But...on Sunday nights I wish they just already knew how.

After putting them to bed last night I felt awful. I went back in when they were sleeping to whisper apologies and smell their hair. And I went to bed a guilt-laden mother. The guilt manifested itself into a terrible dream that still has me on the verge of tears.

I was on the ranch in Montana, standing at the edge of the field. My Dad walked up to the girls and me and told me that a mountain lion was trying to kill all of the baby calves. I looked out over the field of grazing cattle to see them morph into mothers and children.

Then I saw the mountain lion. But it was actually a female African lion - and it was slipping up to the kids that were far away in the field. The panic hit me and I turned to tell the girls to get back to the house. That's when a huge male lion jumped on Sophie and grabbed her in his mouth. She was screaming, "Mom! The pain!" and there was nothing that I could do.

Holy crap.

I went into her room and after checking her for marks and evidence of breathing, lay down on the floor of her room to pass the rest of the night in fitful sleep.

Amazing Allison

2007-09-25T07:28:00.000-07:00

I have changed my schedule a bit a work to accommodate a new train that they added to the "Sounder Commuter Train". I love the Sounder.

The 15 miles from my home to work can take 45 minutes in the morning and an hour or more in the evening if driving by car. On the train it takes 20 minutes. 20 MINUTES! Not only that, but my (MY!) house is a 10 minute brisk walk from the station.

Usually, due to the limited train schedule, I would be off work at 4 pm and would need to wait until 4:45 pm to catch the first train home. This would get me home around 5:20.

Not. Any. More.

Without having to change my schedule my more than 15 minutes in the morning, I can now catch this new run at 4:00 PM. Yesterday was the first day.....I jumped in the work vanpool, zoomed to the station, boarded the train, arrived in my hometown 20 minutes later, walked home, and arrived at 4:30. FOUR. THIRTY.

THIRTY MINUTES AFTER FOUR.

This is over an hour earlier! Does anyone understand?

Oh, I am sooooo happy.

Anyway, this post is actually not about the train (kind of hard to tell at this point, isn't it?). It is really about the time and what I can do with it. I was very excited about this extra hour because, especially on piano lesson Mondays, I really need this time to prepare dinner, help with homework, take then neighbor's dog for a walk, etc. I was actually so enamoured of my extra dinner-fixing time that I kind of forgot to make dinner before piano lessons last night.

Oops.

It actually worked out fine. We got home after lessons and I whipped up dinner and the girls and I sat around the table talking about boys and uteruses (uteri?) and if human twins can have two separate fathers.

I said no. I let the girls know that I wasn't so sure - that if the twins were two separate eggs that I might be wrong. But having sex with two different people within the ovulation time was more than likely a really bad idea anyway.

I love our talks. Have I mentioned that we are very open about these things?

This, as it always does, opened to the dinner table conversation up to sex and boys. They myth that I had sex with their father only twice was finally debunked. They laughed. Sophie showed us her best "make out with yourself by crossing your arms over your own shoulders while your back is turned to the audience" move. It was good.

Then she sat down and said, "Do you know what?". (Sophie starts almost all of her sentences this way.) "Maddie says that Jackson (7-year-old twins that live down the street) sometimes kisses and humps her Amazing Allison doll." Insert relatively lengthy silence here. "I don't play with Amazing Allison anymore when I'm over there."

Inappropriate touching was the next subject of conversation.

Without that extra hour, would I have ever learned of Amazing Allison and her fall from grace?

I think not.

Movin' On

2007-09-20T07:47:00.000-07:00

After I got this news, the prospect of leaving my house and moving once again, had paralyzed me this summer.

I was attached to that house for a myriad of reasons, but mostly because it seemed to signify a big turning point in my life.

I was in trouble in my old place - it had been sold and the rent greatly increased ($300 more a month). I had only my self-employment to get me by, and I was not doing very well. I had just come to the decision that the only way I was going to survive was to move into a much smaller (and less expensive) place and get a job in the real world.

I had been working at home and supplementing (quite heftily) my income with some money that I received when my Dad passed away. I supplemented my income so much that it only took me a matter of a few years to blow through it. It was enough, that if I would have been a better manager of my money, it could have lasted a very long time.

But I wasn't. And I wasn't on a pretty big scale.

I wasn't as if I was completely frivolous. I bought a reliable vehicle. I bought new furniture. I stayed home with my kids until they got in school - and that is the part that I least regret. But it was humiliating to have to admit to my family that the money I had been given was all gone and I was, once again, in crisis.

My mother was horrified.

I had hidden things from her for as long as was humanly possible. But there are only so many times that the phone company can "mess up" and disconnect your phone. There are only so many times that you can tell your kids that the TV doesn't work and they can just watch DVD's. And it was truly my own damn fault.

I was driving home from work at my new "seasonal" position at REI (I'm still here 3 years later) when I decided to take a new route home and look for rentals. The first street I turned down there was a "For Rent" sign in the lawn of this adorable little green house with white shutters. I called on it immediately and saw it the next day. As horrified as she was at my money management skills, my Mom helped me with the first and last month's rent and security deposit.

As you all know....things have greatly improved since I set foot in that house.

My job has allowed me to get back on my feet and truly improve my life from the bottom up. I feel like I can conquer the world, and it all started with that little green house. Everything has changed, but most importantly how I look at the world. My Mom and I still can fight, but I can honestly say that I feel that she would always back me up, no matter how bad I've screwed up in the past. I can be more honest with people than I ever felt I could. Pride no longer limits me.

Everyone deserves a second chance, I know. Sometimes that chance is so huge, though, that sometimes you can't imagine anyone with enough hutzpah to be willing to put themselves out there when your track record is so....awful.

My Mom bought the house.

Yep. She bought it. I will be paying her "rent" (at a reduced rate, even) and earning a certain percentage of ownership each year. I won't be strapped for the full cost of the mortgage payment and my lack of credit will not force me into a high interest rate.

And as far as I'm concerned, that's the least wonderful part about it. Communication between my Mom and I is sometimes hard, but I really feel like this is more of a quiet nod of approval to how hard I have worked the last few years.

Surprisingly, her approval means more to me than I ever would have thought possible.

Hello There Everyone!

2007-09-18T17:56:00.000-07:00

Holy crap!

Well, that last month was a bit insane. I will be working on stories that include some of the shenanigans I have participated in. They will include, but not be limited by, this list of subjects:

Moving
Old Job vs. New Job
State Fairs
School
Head Lice
Fumigation techniques
Scented Tampon Usage

I bet you can't wait....

Sophilina Jolie

2007-08-16T11:46:00.000-07:00

I am so busy right now that the option of taking time out for a blog entry is not really there.

Occasionally, however, something happens that is just too good -so amazingly blog-worthy that one must stop everything that they are doing in order to tell the world.

Last night, after I came home from work, I sat talking to Mickey (the nanny) before she went home. It is always good to have a recap of the day and find out ahead of time if there were any issues that need to be addressed right away. Maya was down the street playing at a friend's house and Sophie was in the bedroom watching a movie.

I am used to always being interrupted by the girls when I get home. The hugs! The kisses! This time I didn't get a hug or a kiss from Sophie. She just walked up to my chair with her hand over her mouth, holding out the digital thermometer that had registered her internal temperature at 99.0. I distractedly assured her that she would live through this horrific low grade fever and waved her off to continue talking with Mickey.

After Mickey left Sophie removed her hand from in front of her mouth and then asked me, “Do my lips look really big?”

Oh my God, her lips were so huge that I thought she had been stung by a bee or was having a horrible allergic reaction. They were easily 4-5 times larger than normal and stuck out beyond her nose. HUGE. It was like Angelina Jolie with a terrible collagen job.

Apparently she had been watching a movie in Maya’s room and had finished drinking her glass of juice. Throughout the 1 ½ hours of the movie she had been doing the “suction the juice glass to your face” thing – over and over and over again. Not only did it suction itself to her face, but it sucked most of the blood from the rest of her body into her lips. She must have been pretty aggressive about it because she has some hickey-like broken capillaries all over her chin to top it all off.

She was so embarrassed that she wouldn’t let anyone in her room as she iced her gargantuan lips down. It took almost two hours for them to return to a semi-normal state.

Before:

After:

I'll Try Anything Once

2007-07-30T22:16:00.000-07:00

In true Shari form I decided tonight at 9 pm to try a story for the famous Wordsmiths Unlimited. The deadline is tomorrow. Typical.

Well, here it is....be gentle.

Contradictions

His father was a pedophile, his mother was a saint. His gypsy-wanna-be sister traveling with the tickey-tackey circus, refuses to speak to her recently evangelized brother. His high-school sweetheart wife lolls on the bed in a daze of 4 Oxycontin and 6 Schlitz beers. Their free love ideals of the 1960's have slowly morphed into a prison of indifference- the new millennium of hate.

His once knobby knees now threaten to give way under his enormous weight, increasing by the day on a diet of fried jumbo shrimp and diet soda. His perfect teeth glare their whiteness through his gritty 5 o’clock shadow that last saw a razor last Tuesday at 1 o’clock. The reading glasses that he needs to see the computer screen are thrown haphazardly on the bedside table, releasing a plume of dust from the pathetic vase of silk roses. He curls his nose at the stench that emanates from everything in the room - Unwashed sheets? Cat hair? Urine?

His or hers?

No children, just 3 miscarriages. No joy, only disappointment. His broken heart shows itself more often than not with its fists. Why can’t he feel empathy until after the fact?

His emotions are a glassblower’s jackhammer.

Childhood hopes were dashed a long time ago, working like a dog in the fields since he was four. Unemployment is his right. His only privilege. He will make this work. Something will finally go right for him. Long hours of idleness will eventually lead to the get-rich-quick idea of the century.

The internet, with it dichotomous world of porn and astrological love charts, pain and recipe-sharing chat rooms, has got to have something for him. How do these people do it? Make a million on cheap t-shirts that say "Fuck Bush"? Run a consistent business re-selling beany babies?

Maybe his brother has it right. Maybe you just give your life over to something bigger than yourself. Confess your sins to the world and let it all go. Will it all stop?

A smile creeps to his lips. A starving jackal of a smile, furtively dancing with a sneer. He had it. Just what everyone needed. This was going to be his meal ticket.

The digitized Confessional Booth screen-saver.

Bless me father, we all sin.

What We Did This Weekend - Hairspray

2007-07-30T11:28:00.000-07:00

I am now officially crazy in the work department. When you think it can't possibly get any busier, you are often proven wrong.

This weekend was spent with the girls - home, finally, for an entire weekend! I also have Grace for an entire week, so things are also quite busy on the home front.

But so busy as to not go see "Hairspray"!

The girls were excited because Linc was being played by Zac Efron, a young hottie that they all have a thing for at the moment, and I was excited because I just love, love, love this musical. I think they did a wonderful job. I haven't been to a movie when the crowd actually interacted with the characters on screen since I was really little (and terrified) in the middle of a theater full of yelling and fist-pumping "Rocky" fans. That was just weird.

The best part was seeing it through the girls' eyes, though. They were amazed at the prejudice and the fact that interracial relationships actually posed a problem. When I told them "There was a time when black and white people could not dance together on TV," I might as well have told them "Before you were born the sky was a light shade of green." It was wonderful to see.

Sophie told me before the movie started that "That guy that plays Danny in Grease is going to be in it -dressed up like a GIRL! You know who I mean - that Johnny Revolta guy?" Then, later on that evening when we were home, she started belting out the song "Good Morning Baltimore". There was only one little problem....she sang it "Good Morning Voldemort". Mixing out movie metaphors a bit?

The rest of the weekend was spent doing laundry and mowing the lawn. No good picture opportunities - sorry!

A Fancy Night at the Thea-tah

2007-07-25T11:54:00.000-07:00

Do you all remember me telling you about my brief relationship with the Ringmaster of the Let's Pretend Circus?

Damn. I love saying that. Just seems so fitting for me somehow.

I check up on his career every so often by searching for him on Google. He keeps busy in the Seattle theatre scene and seems to be doing pretty well. The last time I checked I discovered that he was going to be the Pharaoh in "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat".

I have never seen "Joseph" and the kids were gone, so I thought it would be nice to sneak into the theatre undetected and not only see and enjoy a show, but also satisfy my curiosity about him.

I have not interest in being with him, but when one can just spy so easily...it's hard not to quench that. Plus, it is really nice sometimes to be reminded of the fact that at one point I had a fantastic sex life. You know?

Megan and I got tickets for Friday night. The kids were gone. We both needed a break. .

We met at my house after work and drove her minivan (the VW bug was too dangerous in the rain) toward Seattle. Traffic was terrible and we spent the beginning of our night stuck in the worst traffic jam ever. Megan is a worrier - something that just does not come naturally to me - so I think this part of the evening was horrible for her.

As usually is the case in worrisome situations, everything turned out just fine and we arrived at the theatre with 5 entire minutes to spare.

I had read on the website that it was a small theatre, and I started to really get the picture when we were crowded into the minuscule lobby with all of 15 other people while waiting in the Will Call line.

Our tickets noted that we were in Row B.

Row B. Isn't that a bit CLOSE to the stage to go silent and undetected?

Megan had mentioned that she felt we were really close, but she had tried all possible combinations and could not come up with worse seats....

Well, Row B could easily be following 26 rows of AA, BB, CC, etc. Right?

Right?

Alas, that is not right.

There were approximately 10 rows of seats facing the stage, two rows in a U-shaped balcony and three rows bordering the right and left sides of the stage. We had the great luck of being in the "Left" section on the side of the stage.

And did I mention there was no such thing as Row A?

Um, yeah.

We were smack dab in front of the center part of "Stage Right" (or left? I always get confused). And when I say smack dab, let me tell you that the stage is only two steps up from the floor. And the first step is incredibly close to Row B. So close that when I crossed my legs my foot jutted jauntily over the step itself - and this seemed to be discouraged - as spelled out a few different times in the playbill.

So there I sat, uncomfortably upright, wondering aloud whether we should just cut our losses and flee right then and there. Then I stoically stated, "No. No! We paid $25 each for these tickets. We ARE NOT leaving."

No sooner had I taken my stand when it all started. There was dancing, there was singing, there was sitting on the stage directly in front of me by all actors besides him (thank God). If I would have been in Seat 14 Row B RIGHT, however, I would have been even more screwed in the "let's try not be noticed" category. He seemed to be continually dancing, singing or sitting on that side of the stage for the entire performance.

I sat through almost the entire show with my crazy curly hair up in a hair stick ,with the thought that if anything would give me away in a crowd, it would be my semi-out-of-control hair. So up it went. I was sure that my 6 foot tall frame or my trademark giggle would NEVER give me away. Oh no, not in a million years.

And it actually seemed to be working. He was on the other side of the stage. My hair was controlled. I laughed softly into my hands.

And then the end of the play came.

And the standing ovation.

I really, really did not want to stand up. I'm too tall. I'm right on the side of the stage. And...damn....he switched sides of the stage for the curtain call.

But sitting seemed to make me even stand out more, so I stood. "Great," I said to Megan, "Now I have to be all tall and stuff."

And then my hair stick began to slip. Curls popped out, one at a time at first, then more and more rapidly - poing! poing! poing! It was everywhere.

Megan said I actually whispered, horrified, "Oh god. There is goes."

And then I started laughing.

I'm pretty sure he had seen me at almost immediately when I stood - even before the hair accident. But I could not look. I was laughing so hard tears were streaming down my face. Megan joined in and it was all over. My cover was blown into infinitesimal bits.

I think it should have been called "Shari and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" instead.

What We Did For Many Weekends

2007-07-20T13:07:00.000-07:00

Many, many crazy things are afoot right now. My girls have been gone to Montana for two weeks and that always makes me very sad. This year my group of friends have all done a fabulous job of keeping me entertained and distracted.

The first distraction was the all-weekend multi-family garage sale. Saturday was spent completely goofing off and not being good sales people. I, seriously, made $9. I blame it completely on my ridiculous co-salespersons.....

This is John, my real life co-worker. I "just happened" to catch him relaxing on the pile of pillows with his Shape magazine, his golden challis and a bejeweled apple. If my yard were the Garden of Eden, John would have been Eve. (slut.)

Speaking of sluts (ohhhh! just kidding!) Natalie was encouraged to pose seductively with the neighbors hot rims (she was employed in the "Rim Job" department). The fairy wings were added to give this hard core shot a bit of sensitivity and playfulness. She is totally going to end up on a grease-smudged mechanic's calendar somewhere....

Many beers and sunburned cells later this fantastic little guy dropped by our garage sale to peruse our wares. He happened to also be a meat salesperson, selling steaks and things from the back of his freezer truck. We sold him nothing and spent all of our profits (that were not spent on beer) on steaks. He was a bit uncomfortable, I think, with the level of friendship that we felt we deserved with him, the meat man. The man of meat. Ha.

Throughout the next week I was kept busy with random things, all leading up to a rollicking night out with my co-workers Daniel, Candice and John. John is leaving for Pennsylvania for a job with our company and I'm a bit irritated that he is going. It's against all my plans and I don't appreciate his lack of forethought on my account.

We all met at Daniel's house in Capital Hill in Seattle. Capital Hill is a community that is mostly gay and lesbian and therefore has the best nightlife around. Daniel and his boyfriend were wonderful hosts. I served up wonderful margaritas with little "S" limes on top (because my name is Shari and Shari starts with an "S"). It's really all about me. The best thing is I made a few bucks due to the tip cup that someone thoughtfully placed on the kitchen counter.

During the imbibing of the margaritas we also played a screamingly exciting game of Jenga as demonstrated by John's face in the following picture:

The best part of the night was when we actually went out to the gay bar ("Neighbors"). I once had a lesbian roommate for a few years and had been indoctrinated into the gay bar scene - so I suppose I knew what to expect. John, as it turned out, did not know what to expect.

I warned him early on not to wear the "metro" shirt in the picture above, but he thought I was being a brat. There are many things one should listen to an older woman about....shirt choice in a gay bar being only one of them.

We descended to the lower part of Neighbors into what was dubbed "El Noche Latino". Sounds promising, right? Oh si, es muy bueno. Many gay hispanic men were milling about in button down shirts and squished straw cowboy hats. John seemed to be doing quite well until I noticed him staring at the buxom girls across the bar.

"John. That's a man."

"What!!? No it's not! She has boobs."

"Yeah. Well the part that might matter more is still a man."

"No way!"

I was ready to give him the blow by blow (so to speak) regarding transgender individuals when I was rudely interrupted by the beginnings of "La Noche Latino's" drag show. If you have never seen a drag show I suppose it could be relatively confusing. And not just because of the gender issues.

Why is it that it is important to dress up so extravagantly and lip sync popular songs?

I do not know the answer to this question, but I will admit that it is quite entertaining. The best part of this particular show was the look on John's face through the entire thing. The first guy (who was actually dressed as a guy) was most of the way through his song when John said, "Hm, he's a really good singer." The lip syncing thing hadn't quite hit him yet.

I could have just sat and watched his face all night, but we decided we must go upstairs and check out the dance floor. Daniel and I immediately dove into the fray, leaving John with Christopher, Daniel's boyfriend. Unbeknownst to us, Christopher also left John. Poor guy...he was standing in the middle of the gay bar for a good 20 minutes all by himself with his Paul Bunyan-esque looks and metro-sexual shirt.

It's amazing he was still there when we came off the dance floor.

He seemed to be a bit disturbed by the guy dancing in the cage and the adorable little man that passed us by dressed in only white satin underwear - a white handkerchief tied jauntily around his neck offsetting his cowboy hat beautifully - to check his own ass out in the mirror to our left. But by far the most disturbing to John was when he was surreptitiously pinched in the side and hit on by a very available and interested-in-some-Paul-Bunyan-roleplay man.

"I'm straight!" John literally yelled at the poor man.

Oh, it was a great evening.

I could go on and tell you about the most recent weekend, but I have to stop this at some point. I think a new post is in order.....

Apparently I Am A White Honkey Dumb Ass

2007-06-27T21:36:00.000-07:00

With work being as crazy as it is, I have very few minutes to monitor my personal work email. Today, the quickly scanned email told me, I was going to be involved in a Diversity Focus Group.

There seems to be much confusion why our company's members and employees are, in a very large part, Caucasian. It seems as if the minority demographic is not that interested in ultra-lightweight camping trips to the backcountry that involve eating meals that heat themselves in their own packages when opened.

Who knew?

Sometimes it all makes me just so....tired.

Anyway...I walked into the conference room, chatting happily with the co-workers that also happened to be attending this session. After a few minutes of talking, I looked up at the woman who was to be leading this little group - she was smiling and staring at me as if I had suddenly sprouted horns.

I smiled uncomfortably back.

She continued to look really uncomfortable, and I started to look around me to get some sort of hint of what I could possibly be doing wrong.

It was only then that I realized that every single person in the room, besides me and the really uncomfortable smiling lady, was male and Asian.

If it had been an SAT question, I would have been the answer.

I then, being the good example of the Human Resources employee, began laughing semi-loudly and then stated, "I guess my focus group must have been YESTERDAY!"

I found it quite wonderful that I could have spend that much time in that room and never realize that something was "wrong".

Diversity, smiversity.

The Winds of Change

2007-06-27T07:55:00.000-07:00

I have been keeping something under my hat. With so many things happening lately I feel completely wrung out - an emotional basket case.

Here is the latest....

Hello Human Resources,

I am thrilled to announce that Shari will be joining the compensation team as our Compensation Analyst I. In her new role, Shari will partner with the compensation team to complete job evaluations, conduct market analysis, participate in compensation surveys, and jump into Xcels processing and any other compensation work that arises.

Shari will be transitioning to her new role over the next month as we have asked her to continue contributing in the ESC and to help train new ESC Coordinators while learning her new position. By the end of August, Shari will be working full-time with the Compensation team.

Shari’s new role will build on the expertise she has gained since joining REI ‘s contact center in 2004, and her subsequent moves to headquarters in 2005 and our ESC in 2006. We’ll be leveraging the experience she has gained working with our HRIS systems, and I personally am looking forward to her sense of humor and peanut brittle around holidays (and Xcels) time!

Please join me in congratulating Shari on her new role!

Home, Sweet Home

2007-06-20T20:59:00.000-07:00

I love my little green house.

I rent it. I found it at a very hard time in my life and when I moved in I finally felt truly at home. It has a old ceramic kitchen sink.

And a Dutch door.

And a great back deck.

And roses.

And my landlord stopped by tonight to let me know they wanted to put it on the market this summer.

They just had twins - unplanned - and they are really the greatest people. I understand that this is the risk you take when you rent, but I can't afford to buy.

And it breaks my heart.

What We Did This Weekend - Pig Edition

2007-06-18T14:55:00.000-07:00

The girls spent Saturday with their Dad for Father's Day. He took them to the Fremont Fair - which is well known for some strange goings on.

I got a phone call Saturday afternoon from a very amazed sounding Sophie..."Mom? We're at the fair and, well....there are a lot of naked people here."

"Oh yeah?" I said, "That's pretty cool. I bet they're riding bicycles, huh?"

"How did you know? It's kinda weird. One guy is painted like a bumble bee, and there is a lady with glitter all over her nibbles." (Sophie calls nipples "nibbles". It's quite perfect, really.) "Here, I'll let you talk to Maya."

"Hi Mom."

"Hey Maya. How are you doing? I bet your Dad was surprised when he saw those naked people on bicycles!" I said.

"Yeah. He told us not to look." Maya switches to a low, almost inaudible whisper, "I have never seen a man, well...you know....all naked and stuff."

"Not all naked. I heard they had some paint on," I said smiling like a fool.

"Mom. You know what I mean. It's weird. Not good weird."

"Yeah, I know honey. It never gets any better than that, really. Oh well. At least now you don't have to wonder."

"Yeah...I guess" she said with disgust.

At least she wasn't impressed. The discomfort that their Dad felt made me feel all warm and squishi inside. Really, if one of their parents were going to take them to a naked bicyclist fair I always assumed it would be me.

Sunday was spent in Seattle with my friend and co-worker Daniel. We bought High School Musical (from Disney Channel fame) tickets. Both Daniel and I were under the impression it was being put on by a young group of semi-seasoned actors.

We were wrong.

It was put on by a Children's Theatre - none of the children being over twelve. Since it deals with High School age issues and crushes and first kisses, etc......well let's just say it didn't translate well to the group.

It was painful.

So we spent the rest of the day parading ourselves around Seattle finding the pigs from the "Pigs on Parade" street art show. In celebration of Pikes Place Market 100th anniversary various artists came up with their own version of the famous Pikes Place Pig. (see below)

The one below has weird faces all over it. A bit scary - but a pig can definitely pull it off.

This one was my favorite. It had piercings all over (they were actually all different sized cupboard knobs but I totally got what they were going for). Daniel is, in the spirit of things, showing off his tongue piercing.

Then off to the market to purchase and devour the largest maple donut ever made.

And the waterfront would not be the same without a Merpig.

And the other side of the market boasted this beauty, aptly titled "This little piggy went to market".

And, of course, we had to go see Sylvester (and the shrunken heads, and the world's largest barnacle and a petrified whale penis) at Ye Ole Curiosity Shop.

And then Daniel carried the girls through all the people so they could scream and inadvertently kick unaware tourists. Right after this picture was taken Daniel and I stopped to get ice cream. The outdoor speakers were blaring Sinead O'connor's "Nothing Compares To You" - and although I have not heard that song in at least 12 years - we serenaded the audience while waiting for our Old Fashioned Butter Pecan. I think they were glad when we stopped. They had that "scared smile" thing going on.

As if we hadn't had enough sugar, we later found a new store called "Chocolate Box" that was just a little bit evil and a lot bit good. The girls LOVE dark chocolate and each got their own bar.

And this pig sat right outside the door.

It was a fantastic day. Sugar. Pigs. Mummies. Bad Musicals. It just doesn't get any better.

What did you do?

Super Models

2007-06-13T11:41:00.000-07:00

Remember when the girls did the photo shoot last summer? (the Photo Shoot Picture and Learning About the Outdoors Posts)

Well, their pictures from that day have made it on many different posters, emails and even postcards. Here are a few others that I thought I would share with you. Can you pick them out?

Hint: Sophie's hair is over her face and her shoes are purple.....

Hint: Maya is wearing pink in this sea of faces.

End of the Year Project

2007-06-08T09:25:00.000-07:00

Maya just finished her end of the year project. She has been diligently working on the writing portion for three months at school. Please read her report below and comment on how smart she is. She is in fourth grade and writes better than I do!

Oh, and there is also a very cool poster that goes along with this that she made. It has sand glued on the bottom with real starfish, fake (but real looking) ferns growing on one side, moss and many other fascinating items from her place of choice in Washington.....enjoy.

Olympic National Park
By Maya

So you want to know how get to Olympic National Park? Well I know how to get there. But you have to promise me one little thing...to have fun!

There are many ways to get to Olympic National Park, but how do you get there from
Puyallup? First, get on Hwy 512 going west. When you get to Olympia take exit 104 to Hwy 101 North. There is another way to get to Olympic National Park, take I-5 North to Seattle and take the ferry to Bainbridge Island, cross the Hood Canal Floating Bridge and get on Hwy 101 to Port Angeles. Hurry get driving up to Olympic National Park! Pack your bags! Fun is waiting!

What is the best feature at Olympic National Park? Well I think it is the Hoh Rain Forest. In the Hoh Rain Forest the trees get up to 200 feet high! Sometimes trees grow over trees that have fallen and when the fallen tree rots away there is a little space under the tree. You can walk under its roots. They call it the Moss Halls because at the Hoh Rain Forest you can walk across moss that is all around you. I hope you want to go to the Hoh Rain Forest as soon as you can! What? Why would you want to go to Olympic National Park? I`ll tell you why! Keep on reading.

Most National Parks don`t have as many different places as Olympic National Park does. Olympic National Park doesn`t just have rain forests it has ocean beaches and large mountains. Kalaloch and Ruby beaches are fun and good family beaches. Mt. Olympus, the tallest mountain in the Park, gets over 200 inches of rain and snow each year. There are over 2,000,000 acres of land to camp, hike, and backpack in. I don`t know anybody who couldn`t find something to do in Olympic National Park.

There are many animals at Olympic National Park because of the different habitats . In the mountains you can see coyotes, Roosevelt elk, cougars, and striped skunk. In the Rain Forest watch out not to step on any banana slugs, long toed salamanders, or Pacific tree frogs! In the creeks and rivers in the park you can find 37 spieces of salmon and Olympic mud minows - which are found nowhere else in the world! My favorite animals are found at the beach like anemones and starfish. Sandollars and razor clams can be found by the bucketfuls. Sea lions, elephant seals, orcas, and humpback whales swim in the water right off the beach. Animal lovers love Olympic National Park!

Olympic National Park was founded by the government . It is run by the National Park Service and the Forest Service. But who owns the Park? We all do! Money from our taxes pays for upkeep and Forest Rangers that work at the Park. One time at Kalaloch beach I got sit and listen to a park ranger talk about different kinds of whales. There are Ranger stations at the Hoh Rain Forests and Hurricane Ridge. You can learn a lot from Park Rangers.

I hope this gives you many reasons to go to Olympic National Park. Its one of my favorites and could be one of yours.

Quotable

2007-06-04T21:16:00.000-07:00

Sophie on Squid:

"My friends today said they didn't like to eat squid, but none of them have ever tried it. I told them judging squid is just like judging people by the color of their skin. Geez. They never even gave it a chance."

Work Schmurk

2007-06-04T13:32:00.000-07:00

How am I supposed to blog when work keeps me soooo busy?

My last few days in summary:

It was 90 degrees on Saturday and we spent all day at a wonderful place on Puget Sound called Dash Point. It was good.
My back still hurts in the morning. Every damn day I am sure I am fine by the time evening rolls around - just to find out that the horrifying pain is back in the morning. Evil.
Maya, who is convinced she is "bad at Math", was the second child in her classroom of 30 to finish all her Multiplication and Division facts and will be taken (as part of the top 5 in her class) to a movie by their teacher.
The girls, Grace and I went to Pirates of the Caribbean - World's End this weekend. I loved it, although it was really just one really loud fight scene for two hours. I am in love with Jack Sparrow. And Will Turner? Much hotter due to the "issue" at the end. Hmmmm....pirates. Yummy.
I love pirates.
Love them.
A lot.

I Am Artistic AND Politically Correct

2007-05-30T20:06:00.000-07:00

Today was our big HR off site meeting. Feeling warm and fuzzy yet?

Don't get me wrong, I love an excuse to get out of the office and spend some time with my co-workers. I actually really like them all. It's just that I'm not a "meeting person". I find that more often than not nothing really gets accomplished. Things are usually just batted around and re-phrased - then everyone goes to lunch.

And that is pretty much what happened.

The morning was spent re-hashing for the umptillionth time that we are currently undergoing the process of a HR reorganization (since last September). This seems to be upsetting some people greatly. It seems as if we needed to talk about it some more. Change is good people. Just accept and move on. Really.

After the meeting we went to out for Chinese - an interesting choice since Chinese food seems to inevitably put anyone eating it in any quantities into a deep slumber. Then, it was back to the meeting place to end our off-site adventure with a class in landscape watercolor painting.

Landscape watercolor painting.

I like this kind of thing. I'm not good at painting, but I do find it fun to give it a try every now and then. But more entertaining was watching the completely out of their element analytical people struggle to find their comfort zone.

Ha! Now they know how I feel trying to fit into a HR politically-correct role every day!

I present my latest work....."Really Close Up Semi Abstract Flower".

What We Did This Weekend - You're Standing On My Girlfriend Edition

2007-05-28T16:20:00.000-07:00

Ahhh...what a difference a weekend makes.

I finally decided to just go to Packwood and force my back to comply with my wishes. It seems that two nights and three days of frivolity is just what the doctor ordered.

We took Grace with us...her parents are more of the five-star hotel type, so as you can imagine this was quite fun for her.

We got to Dave's place in the woods in the mid-afternoon and immediately took to the trail that leads to the waterfall. It is so beautiful there. Man, I love it.

When we arrived there was a middle-aged man standing at the base of the falls. The girls took the trail to the top of the waterfall, and I decided to hang back and let the man have his quiet time. After awhile her turned, walked down the trail toward me, and then said the strangest thing.

"You're standing on my girlfriend," he said.

"Excuse me?" I couldn't have heard him correctly, could I?

"You're standing on my girlfriend," he said again, pointing toward my feet this time.

Of course, I looked down, relatively sure that his girlfriend was NOT going to be under my feet. I peered around, then something caught my eye just behind my heels.

A small cross was meticulously drawn out with stones at the base of the tree. A plastic water bottle held some wildflowers.

Apparently I was standing on his girlfriend.

In a creepy, heartbroken way he pointed out what he said were some bone fragments. "We were going to get married here. I live in a trailer a ways down the trail. One day I woke up and she didn't," he sighed.

"Oh my gosh! I am really sorry. I didn't know she was here....I mean....I had no idea. Geez. Um, I've got to go check on the kids," and off I scrambled.

You just never know who you might meet in the woods. Or for that matter, who you might stand on.

Later Dave came up the trail after the scary guy left and we enjoyed celebrating Memorial Day... In the picture below you will see Dave and his dog Juno "standing on his girlfriend".

And here's a nice one of Juno with the memorial cross and flowers. I like to call this photo "Sitting on his Girlfriend". (Is this funny? Why does it just absolutely crack me up? Is it wrong?)

Later in the day we started a fire and started to collect a lot of people and their dogs. Juno is a lap dog, if you couldn't already tell.

This semi-pornographic pic is of the best dog I have ever met. His name is Frank. He is, get this, a cross between a dachshund and a pit bull. Everything about his says dachshund, but he has a robust pit bull head and brindle coloring. Frank is a gem. I loved him.

Here is a good representation of some of the camp craziness. Dave's "cabin" is actually more like a 1972 single-wide trailer - but being that it is out in the woodsy type area, we refer to it in the cabin-type vernacular. On the right, above Sophie's arm and to the left of the orange wiffle ball bat and 1980's colored bicycle, is Frank again.

On the left, with the group of three people, are the other dogs that graced our weekend. The reddish blur is a beautiful 7-month old red Doberman named Freya. And next to her is the little black Manchester terrier, Manny Biggs. And boy does he live up to his name.

It was like a dog episode of the Sopranos all weekend.

This is all of us heading down the road to the driving range. Dave has about 80 sets of golf clubs, just for the very reason that 35 of his closest friends may some day come camping and want to drive some balls.

Um...the driving range was closed when we got there.

So...we played wiffle baseball. Please note the air horn in Dave's right hand. I got to sound it at every inning change.

This smashed dandelion was third base. First base was a paper plate. Second you just sort of had to visualize for yourself.

Oh, and I'm safe.

A bit later in the evening I was serenaded for my birthday by Zach Zimmerman. He had a very romantic song that he wrote himself called, "Party in My Pants". I was flattered.

Then we all sang a very soulful rendition of Poison's "Every Rose Has It's Thorn" (and they all laughed really hard at me when I told them that it was the theme of my high school prom). There was not a dry eye in the house.

The next day we cooked some Jiffy Pop over the fire, but alas, it was really just hot air and about 15 popped kernels.

Gracie found a butterfly.

Maya was irritated with my incessant picture taking.

Sophie was trying to hide the fact she was drinking a soda for breakfast.

And the following picture sums up exactly why I will be friends with Dave until the day that I die. (The orange sticker reads "Special of the Week")

And some last beautiful pics from our hike back to the waterfall on Monday.....

Happy Memorial Day everybody!

Just A Bit More Whininess, If You Please

2007-05-25T18:23:00.000-07:00

It is my birthday eve!

I love my birthday eversomuch, but it has had a bit of a wet blanket thrown over it the last few weeks. (I tend to celebrate the day of my birth for a good month or so.)

The back pain toys with my emotions - yesterday I could have sworn I was almost completely better, and this morning....back to square one. Damn. I'm getting a bit sick of this. My plan to go camping down by Mt. Rainier and hang with the most wonderful Dave may not be possible.

The girls and I have been looking forward to this for months.

On one hand, I will be in pain anywhere - so why not be with someone I enjoy spending time with - and plus also? There is a flea market in Packwood (the town closest to Dave's cabin) that will provide hours of people watching fun. I have been invited to sit in the abandoned gas station that Dave bought his brother to live in (such a good, good story that I have to tell you sometime) and drink beer and socialize with some cream o' the crop flea marketeers.

However, will the drive kill me? Will I be able to stand after a night spent sleeping on the ground? Will it really matter if I drink enough wine?

I will decide, in true Shari-last-minute-god-forbid-you-ever-plan-any-damn-thing fashion, tomorrow.

Now. Here is the real birthday rant. Mickie, the girls' Nanny - she who cannot come up with subtle hints Mickie - got me a birthday present today. It was a nice white shirt (because I have this weird thing about white shirts) in the very flattering size of a 5X. A.Five.Extra.Large.

Una Cinco Muy Grande.

At first I was a bit horrified. Was this how she saw me? Understandably, I am a robust Norwegian woman. 6 feet tall. And....um....ample.

But good God, not THAT ample.

I admit with no embarrasement that if buying a non-number size I usually go for a XL or lately (sigh) a 2XL. Yep. Put that in your pipe and smoke it. I won't hide a goddamn thing from the world.

The thing that gets me is that, even though I have begged her to please not do it, she does quite a bit of my laundry during the week. I truly appreciate it and I'm not going to bitch about something so awesome.

But don't you think she would have peeked at a tag or two in the last year? Wouldn't it be relatively easy if you hadn't looked to just walk into my room and look in my closet?

I think she knew exactly what she was doing.

The failed hints of the lowfat yogurt and the Oprah makeover show pointers have obviously not worked.

Now she's bringing out the big guns. Well frankly, she can just fuck right the hell off.

Happy birthday to me.

Johnny the Bagger

2007-05-23T14:05:00.000-07:00

Yes, I work in HR. But I work for a company that I am proud to say has not fallen into the corporate nightmare of the living Dilbert cartoon.

Until last week.

When I received the link below in an email with this subject line:

"FW: This short video is a great way to think about your job"

Click here to view short video

I am completely freaked out.

I'm Sorry. Really, I Am.

2007-05-22T20:53:00.001-07:00

The world has conspired against me. I must have done something really bad- karma-wise, I mean.

The back injury is sllllooooowwwwllly going away. I finally caved in on Friday and called the doctor. Bless her heart, she prescribed me these fantastic little muscle relaxers with Vicodin chasers that have most definitely helped the situation.

But it still takes me approximately 20 minutes to get my sorry butt out of bed in the morning.

I had a breakthrough last night, however, and was able to actually change positions in the middle of the night without first scooting out of bed onto my knees, pushing myself shakily into a bent-over semi-stand and then falling into the bed on my other side.

Who knew I would ever be so grateful to just roll over?

To add to this already fun-filled-amusement-ride-I-call-life there has been a few more, shall we say... issues in the last week.

Work seems to have consistently handed me odd problems to solve. My spreadsheet ability has completely failed. And, to top it all off the Sounder Commuter Train has stolen my well earned $108 that I faithfully fed its little cash-eating, no-ticket-printing minion of a automatic ticket machine. And because I paid in cash I may never get it back.

The "customer service" agent that I called to tell my sad story to sighed heavily and said, "Man, I wish they would just disable that cash function altogether."

Cash is no longer a viable option for purchasing things, apparently.

Does the Back Spasm God take bribes? Will he accept cash? Will oranges and some incense do?

I need some help here people.

Mother's Day

2007-05-14T20:08:00.000-07:00

Apparently one is not supposed to move an entire gazebo by oneself.

I seemed to have had to learn this the hard way. It's always the grasp of the obvious that I have had a problem with.

I woke up Sunday morning, still propped in my chair with eleventy hundred pillows cradling my aching lower vertebrae, to find that no matter what my brain was telling my body, my body was not at all okay in me actually getting up out of the chair.

Mother's Day is never a big deal to me. I don't expect anything but the wonderful hand made gifts from the girls, usually cereal or Eggo toaster waffles with a glass of juice filled aaaaallllll the way to the top. It is fantastic and it is all I want or need.

But throw back pain into the mix and I obviously become a cross between Mommie Dearest and the dying Sally Field in that one movie I can't remember the name of.

The girls' Dad, John, showed up like he does every Sunday and completely ignored me. When he asked what to pick up at the grocery store I sniffled, wiped my moist eyes and then yelled, "Tylenol goddamit!"

Ah yes, I was a peach.

Later in the morning, Natalie (my neighbor and also one of the best people on earth) came traipsing through my front yard with a tray of breakfast goodness. In a beautiful array there was scrambled eggs, a croissant, orange juice, coffee in Natalie's favorite frosted Elvis coffee cup, and a tulip standing perkily in a bottle of Evian.

The eggs and croissant were nestled under a plastic dollar store plate cover....and it made me bawl like a baby.

I think I said something like, "Oh! ohmygoshthankyou. It's just....beautiful...(sniffle...snort...) I'M JUST KIND OF HAVING A BAD DAY AND MY BACK REALLY HURTS (Wail.....)"

And she just looked at me and smiled and said, "Oh, that's terrible!" And hugged me and then distracted me appropriately. And did I mention that she is wonderful?

My best friend in the entire world then drove up in her adorable white VW bug and surprised me with flowers and fancy soap and the gift of her company. And I suck because I was out of it with pain and post-crying and I didn't have anything for either one of these people and MY BACK REALLY HURT....

And then Siera came by with a gift and three roses before she even went to her own Mother's house. She sat down with me and did something that people rarely do - she told me how much I meant to her and that she loved me.....and I cried (because my back really hurt).

Good God.

It was ridiculous. The emotion! I am not at all used to being like that. And I definitely don't want to make a habit of it. It is completely exhausting.

And my back really hurt. But my heart felt really, really good.

Track Tryouts

2007-05-10T11:47:00.000-07:00

Maya had tryouts for track the other day.

She is in fourth grade. Fourth.

It isn't like she goes to a school that has a huge population. Each grade has about 50-60 kids in it, and they only let 4th through 6th graders try out for the track team.

In her heat of the 100-yard-dash she placed second. Later that day, her entire class missed the announcement (they make an PA announcement?) on who made the team. I told her she could go to the first practice the next morning to see if she made it. And hey....if she didn't originally make it and someone who did didn't show up....

Well, she didn't make it.

She is taking it very well. She admits to being a little disappointed, but overall is relatively unscathed.

I, however, am pissed. Fourth grade? That is ridiculous.

Sophie did manage to lighted the mood the night that Maya found out the bad news by saying, "Yeah, well anyway, Mom? Do you know that sometimes I fart out of my vagina?"

Sometimes all you need is perspective.

Nightmares

2007-05-03T11:42:00.000-07:00

Sophie received a $10 Toys R Us card for her birthday. Gift cards are all the rage and the preferred present for my girls right now. They immediately tuck their card in its slot in their wallet so it will be immediately available for shopping.

Last weekend I took her to spend her coveted card. We walked around and around and around. She hemmed, she hawed, she changed her mind approximately every 3.5 seconds.

Eventually she narrowed it down to a stuffed "Pound Puppy" and a "Skip-it".

I told her that although the Pound Puppy was quite adorable, the last thing she probably needed was another stuffed animal. A Skip-it, on the other hand, provided exercise and hours of summertime fun.

She still was unsure. So, typical of my pushy, I-know-what-you-want-more-than-you-know-what-you-want way - I made my point again. And more forcibly, I suppose. You know how when you truly believe that you are right and someone disagrees, you make your point again without deviation from the first point, but maybe talking more slowly and at a decibel level a notch higher? Yeah. I did that.

She got the Skip-it.

After she played with it for awhile that afternoon she came inside and plunked dejectedly on the couch.

"What's wrong, Soph?" I asked.

"Well..." she sighed, "I feel like you pressured me into that Skip-it."

*silence*

I finally replied, "Well, you're right. I did. Wow, I am so sorry. When payday rolls around how about I get you that Pound Puppy? We can't take the Skip-it back now because it is all scratched up, but I think you deserve what you really wanted in the first place."

I figured the Pound Puppy is not going to break the bank at $9.99, plus she hit that nail right on the head.

I felt relatively good that I had made it through this crisis - owning up to my mistake and even better, realizing that Soph was articulate enough to make her way through this issue with reason and calm, not having to throw a fit like a spoiled brat. It all felt really pretty good.

Until this morning.

Ten minutes before I walked out the door she woke up crying. Not just whimpering a little, but the screaming scared crying that comes from a really bad dream.

I scooped her up and carried her to the couch whispering, "It's okay....it's not real. I'm right here.....it will be alright." I always advocate talking about the dream because I found that when I was small and in my nightmare phase that talking about it seemed to lessen its intensity.

After a few shuddering breathes she faltered into telling me the story,

"We were at the fair, just you, me and Katie. You kept telling me to go on the bungee jump ride. You know the really big one that shoots you waaaayy up in the air on the rubber band things? You kept saying, 'Just do it Sophie. I know you will really like it.' So, I finally just did it. (crying loudly) AND THE RUBBER BANDS BROKE AND I FELL! I didn't even want to do it in the first place." (crying even louder)

Holy shit. See the connection?

I am directly responsible for my daughter's worst nightmare.

Betcha I don't get much for Mother's Day this year.

Sophies Birthday

2007-04-04T12:33:00.000-07:00

Okay, listen. I have been struggling and struggling trying to get pictures of my wonderful Sophia's birthday extravaganza. I have tried posting pictures numerous different ways.

No matter what they are all screwed up.

So I came up with this.

This issue has been paralyzing. I don't want to show favoritism. So....this post will hopefully change. But in the meantime I have to start writing again.

Can I tell you that I had the greatest night ever last night? I saw David Sedaris live.

I want to be him when I grow up.

Except for the receeding hairline. Oh, and the homosexual part.

Not that there is anything wrong with that. I just don't think I can pull off the gay Greek orthodox male role.

On second thought...... nah.

Missed you all. And boy do I have stories!!

Doggie Spring Break 2007

2007-04-02T07:22:00.000-07:00

Dogs gone wild!

And As You Walk Through The Valley Of Death....

2007-03-28T11:25:00.000-07:00

I have mentioned before that my Mom should be considered for the job of "Patron Saint of Dead and Dying Animals".

She can bring back animals from the brink of death with nothing but warm milk, a blanket and her obvious super powers.

I however can never save animals. Ever.

Last night the girls and Grace exploded through the door to breathlessly tell me that there was a bird in Grace's backyard that was not doing very well.

"Mom! Come see! It's so pretty. It looks sick. Can you save it? Hurry!"

So, I hurried. I found the bird (a starling, maybe?) lying on it's back in the wet grass. It was limp but breathing heavily. Nothing seemed broken. There was no blood.

I had brought with me a cotton place mat in expectation of needing to pick the bird up to examine it. I wrapped it up, explaining that I didn't think there was anything I could do. It seemed pretty sick. The only glimmer of hope that I gave the girls was the fact that I could make sure it was warm and safe from predators.

They know the deal by now.

I put the wrapped bird in the midst of the dead petunia in the hanging basket on the back deck. We all spoke softly to it..."Don't be scared. We've got you. It will be okay."

The girls gathered flowers and sprinkled them over the bird. They were overwhelmingly okay with just being there to make the dying a better experience. The desperate "Why Does It Have To Die!" attitude that I always had was not there with them. My expectations for the prospect of life was always much greater, having the Patron Saint for a Mom.

I think this is better.

There is no unrealistic expectation involved. The circle of life thing seems well understood.

Miracles are definitely put in their place at my house.

We don't mind being the Animal Hospice anyway. That Saint business isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Verna

2007-03-23T13:33:00.000-07:00

My good friend Dave sent me an email:

Shari,

I noticed you hadn't logged into your MySpace since 3/6 so I've attached and am emailing the photo of my Grandma. I think it looks like you.

Dave

At first I thought maybe I should take offense. I look like his grandma? I'm 35 for chrissakes. But then I opened the attachment and was pleasantly surprised to see Verna, Dave's grandma, circa 1926:

Nice, huh?

I forgave him for comparing me to his grandma. But in a phone conversation later in the week he did say, "When I was at your Mom's house I saw a picture of you when you were younger and it reminded me of my Grandma. "

And later...."I have a picture of her right before she passed away and she looks like the crazy professor from Back to the Future."

So basically, I looked like the circa 1926 Verna sometime ago, but I am rapidly approaching the point where my white hair will sticking out in all directions from my head and I will be running down Main Street yelling, "Marty! The Flux Capacitor!"

Just in case you wouldn't recognize me otherwise.

Good Over Evil

2007-03-19T19:47:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking and thinking of how I was to approach this post.

I have gone through every emotion I had - both ends of the spectrum - and I have finally come to a calm, logical stage.

Calm and logical is good. Trust me.

Imagine, if you will, the girls and I at home after our day of fun on Maya's birthday. We are whiling away an hour between dinner and heading off for tutoring by playing Maya's new Cranium game. Maya had called her Dad to come down to see her for her birthday. He arrived and sat quietly on the couch tuned in to nothing but his never ending basketball game.

I continued playing, wondering when he was going to give her a present.

About 10 minutes before we had to go I instructed the girls to put the game away because we only had a few minutes. John remarked, "Where's the cake?"

I replied that we had decided to forgo the cake until Friday night and her sleepover.

"Then why did I even come down, then?" he asked.

Hmmm.

As we were getting coats on, he hugged Maya, walked out the door and drove away.

No happy birthday. No present. Nothing.

I was absolutely shocked. Normally he tends to go overboard, so this was not at all the norm.

I looked at Maya, and she must have read the shock on my face. "Oh, I kinda expected it Mom."

What? At 10 you expect that you Dad won't give you a present?

I tried not to show my shock and anger...."Why did you expect it?" I was able to strangle out.

"Oh, he said that if I didn't read more he wouldn't give me a present for my birthday."

"Honey, did you tell him you are just finishing up a 507 page book?"

"Yeah, but he didn't believe me because I tried to tell him what the story was about and I don't think he understood what I was trying to tell him."

She shrugged it off. I know somehow that it has affected her, but there was and has been no sign of her caring whatsoever about his slight.

I on the other hand have been seething. The next day I was planning exactly what I would tell him when I excommunicated him from our lives. The things that I would do to absolutely make sure I would never have to see him ever again.

And only one of these things involved chopping his head off and putting it in the freezer.

And, through some thoughtful counsel of a friend, I have backed off my instincts. Would it really be right to do something like that at this time? At a time when she would probably look back on and only see that she stopped seeing her Dad because of HER birthday?

No. He will dig his own grave.

They already know. They see him for what he is already. And although that is sad, it is also a place of strength for them.

Case in point: A few days later Sophie was talking about what she wanted for her birthday. She noted that her bike was getting too small. He immediately said, "I'm not getting you a bike!"

And she said, "Oh, I know. I've been saving my money in my school savings account. I already have enough to get my own bike if I want to."

I could not have been more proud.

They both know that as a family we can do without him. Not only getting by, but we are better that way. And now, they are learning that they can get anything they need on their own. They are strong, sweet, good-tempered, money-saving girls.

Whatever the world has to offer is theirs.

Maya's Birthday

2007-03-08T12:55:00.000-08:00

Yes. Yesterday was Maya's birthday. As per the usual routine, we skipped school and work to head out on a great day of adventure.

It is well understood that I am just along for the ride - the day is planned, within reason, by the birthday girl.

So....I give you "Maya's Birthday 2007" (10 years old - OMG!)

It is 5:00 am and we are opening presents. 5:00 AM!!

"The 1506 to King Street Station will be arriving in 6 minutes."

We were lucky enough to ride the train half-way with my friend and co-worker John. He, by the way, tried to get the conductor to wish Maya a happy birthday over the loudspeaker, but it didn't happen. It was a valiant effort and John gets huge kudos for it in my book.

We are off the train and headed into the International District to cause trouble. You don't mess with a gang of girls with Spongebob umbrellas, no-siree-bob. (Or is that no-siree-spongebob?)

Finally, to what I consider the most important stop of the morning - Seattle's Best. (Starbucks is terrible and highly overrated and is bitter and doesn't add the delicious white chocolate shavings on the whip cream. Just in case you needed to know.) Check out Maya's Strawberry Steamer Moustache!

Of course, the inevitable picture at Pike's Place Market.

And ferries. Can't forget about the ferries.

Sophie's face in this picture is the funniest thing I have seen in a long time. I just had to include it.

We walked through Seattle' s new Sculpture Park down along the water. Yes, I know, it's grey - but I love, love, love this area anyway. Our sunshine seems to mean it more when it decides to come out.

The Seattle aquarium down at the waterfront was our next destination. It's always been one of my favorite stops. These are the same kind of anemones that we saw on our Kalaloch trip.

The INSANELY cool fish dome thing. I could sit in here all day.

Who knew that ferns came in orange? These were my favorite things at the aquarium this year.

The aquarium is undergoing a renovation and has now finished it's new "Touch" exhibit. It is humongous and is actually two separate areas. This one was great - hermit crabs, starfish, anemones, sea cucumbers, etc. The other one has rising tides and crashing surf and is a bit more "involved" than we really wanted to deal with.

This cool ramp was worth almost an hour of Heely (those irritating roller skate shoes - you know the ones) entertainment.

We always stop at "Ye Olde Curiosity Shop" to look at the mummies, the shrunken heads, the two headed calf and the pickled pig with two heads, three eyes, eight legs and , strangely enough, two ears. This gentleman wishing Maya a happy birthday is "Sylvester". He is famous.

And this is Sylvia who might look, in her mummified state, to be screaming - but I am actually almost sure she is yawning. No need to be scared.

And now, I present three of my most favorite pictures of the day. Look at them in larger form because they are totally worth it......

The Viking and the Pimp

Hours of fun in this hat section. Literally hours.

Ha! This makes me laugh like an idiot every time I see it.

I hope you all had a fantastic March 7th.

Sophie's adventure will be April 4th for anyone keeping track.

Playin' Hooky

2007-03-07T06:45:00.000-08:00

The White Whale

2007-03-05T20:27:00.000-08:00

Many people have favorite authors that are romantic or poetic or political or philosophic. Bronte, Hemingway, Dostoevsky, Pirsig.

Overall, I am a Melville fan.

Herman Melville. Moby Dick. The great documentary before there were documentaries. The one book that I pick up over and over.

When I don't have the time to read it I love to get the audio version of it from the library. It is even better read aloud. I listened to it when the girls were small and Sophie, at 4 years old, introduced herself to her preschool class by loudly and gruffly exclaiming, "Call me Ishmael."

I decided to spoil myself a bit and buy the audio version to keep me company on my commute. Eighteen CD's and I'm almost finished. Again. Already.

Whenever I read or listen to Moby Dick I have the overwhelming urge to narrate my life in Melvillian prose.

Take this weekend, for example. The girls and I had returned from a great night spent at my friend Megan's at midnight. It was a full moon and the night was balmy compared to the nights we have had lately. I had taken a second trip out to the car after the girls had been tucked in. Something caught my eye.

Maybe it was the slug that caught my eye first. It was a normal Washington State slug - pulling itself along the bottom step - nothing outside of the norm there. But a similar sliminess shimmered about a foot away on the edge of the yard.

Two large earthworms were, shall we say, romantically engaged. I am assuming that they were having earthworm sex - but who is to say there is even such a thing? I thought I had read somewhere that they were able to fertilize themselves....

But I digress. They were obviously enjoying themselves. Their brown skin was flushed red in spots, there was a foamy whiteness surrounding key areas.... they were doing it like they do on the discovery channel.

I sat on the step to observe. (I know! But it was interesting....) And the Melville narrator in my mind started in....

Ah, ye great leviathans of the loam! Ye great moist, undulating creatures of the mould! How ye show your soft bellies to the shimmering of the spring moon. How you squirm and foam your love.

Out of the depths of the earth you crawl your eyeless, limbless bodies to quietly - aye, almost solitarily - perpetuate your great numberless race.

Why, thinks I, do you care for such embraces? Does the moon lend this deed a magic that you could not attain underground? Do you crave the feel of your earth twin's sticky affection? Is the everlong caress of the earth not enough for you?

How quickly you part from her. Slinking away to the underground like a thief. Ah....you, the dark one retreating to deeper and colder darkness. Hath not the moon warmed your heart?

See? I am mad. My brow is furrowed with the deep and unerring haunt of the white whale....

I can't stop. Help me.

Nancy Drew's -The Mystery of the Scooter Thief

2007-02-27T21:24:00.000-08:00

The very day after our great and wondrous adventure to Flaming Geyser (dramatic music) the girls and I had an adventure of another sort.

It was a beautiful afternoon, and the girls had summoned the neighborhood gang of kids - Grace, Kennedy, Maddie and Jackson - to the tree climbing and scooter racing that they seem to save for sunny Sundays.

The scooter racing had died down and the tree climbing had just begun. Maya had deposited her scooter on our front yard and was 1/2 a block away at the red maple tree with the group. I was inside folding laundry (again? still?) when I happened to peer outside toward the sidewalk.

Two gangly 14-year-oldish boys were on the sidewalk, one on a bike and one walking. I got a strange feeling from them and watched them longer than I normally would. The boy that was afoot looked directly in the window at me, meeting my eyes, and then at the scooter at the edge of the lawn.

I started moving toward the door, but all at once he reversed his direction back to the scooter, snatched it, and started down the sidewalk at a dead run.

I will truthfully tell you right now that....well, I lost my ever-loving mind.

I crashed through the door yelling such profane things that I can't even remember the proper order in which to quote them. I know I used the f-bomb as an adjective, adverb, noun and verb while interspersing it with threats of the police and bodily damage interspersed at regular intervals.

I ran inside, dialed the police, made my statement and then...

Oh God.

And then I told the girls to get in the car because, "Dammit! We're going to get your scooter back!"

Now, it is a slippery slope when you are driving a vehicle around town in an absolute rage. One should never, ever do this. I had grandiose visions of finding the hooligans gallivanting down the street and....

Maybe I would pull up in front of them, bumping my car over the curb and onto the sidewalk, scaring them so thoroughly with my aggression as to cause them absolute terror.

Maybe I would follow them carefully and quietly until I found out where they lived and then accost them in front of their parents.

Maybe I would just run the little thieving bastards over with my car.

Oh my God I was mad. I don't know what pushed me to such extremes. It was a $50 scooter - three years old, no less. But it was also a scooter that I would be called upon to replace. It was a scooter that had been taken right from under my child's nose. Right in the front yard of the place that is her home and should be safe from these things.

Eventually the boiling in my brain settled down enough to realize that the police officer summoned by my call might be coming to my house - or already there for that matter. I maneuvered myself, my children, and the potential killing machine of my vehicle towards home.

When I returned home, my heart still beating furiously and my adrenal glands aching, John (the girl's Dad) called. He, not knowing that it would put him in imminent peril, had the audacity to lecture Maya about leaving her scooter on the lawn.

The phone call was interrupted by me, threats were forcibly made -something to the effect of, "If you dare make her feel bad because she was playing on her own damn street in front of her own damn house and some little bastards decided to take something that was not theirs....I....I will..." And then I hung up. Because, honestly, I didn't know what I would do - but I did know that it would be something very, very bad.

The police officer showed herself a few minutes later.

Much to my consternation I had very little input on the descriptions of the perpetrators. They were white, skinny, young... one was on a bike, one is now on a purple sparkly scooter....

Hair? Hmmm... not sure.

Clothing? A red t-shirt? A grey sweatshirt? Jeans? Shorts? I had no idea.

Sophie came to the rescue.

She piped up in her seven-year-old wisdom, "The one on the bike, he had black hair and a red shirt. His bike had three wheels. Like the kind you see old people riding? It had a dining room chair tied to the back of it. The other boy had a black t-shirt on with jeans. He had brownish blondish hair."

And if it wasn't enough that her description was so good - something that I definitely should have noticed - I mean, a three wheeled bike with a dining room chair strapped to the back? Anyway, she then proceeded to use my words against me, innocently enough, when she also mentioned (picture her with eyes about as big as saucers when she says this), "Oh! And my Mom screamed at them and called them "f-word boys'."

I am sure that she thought that this might be helpful to the officer. Fucking boys are obviously different that normal boys and could very likely be picked out of a crowd quickly.

The officer, with hardly a smirk on her face, dutifully noted this new evidence in her notebook and left soon thereafter.

The adventure came to an end the next morning. In a way one could say that it is a happy ending. But I am not totally convinced. John, on his way to our house for a visit with the girls noticed the scooter thrown onto the lawn of a house a few blocks from us.

How the hell did he get to end up the hero?

I swear, I just can't win.

A Natural Wonder

2007-02-22T20:35:00.000-08:00

I almost forgot....

The Flaming Geyser! The entire reason for the State Park....

The story goes that at the turn of the century (19somethingorother) there was a crew that was drilling the area testing for coal deposits. They didn't find coal, but they did tap into a huge natural gas deposit. The drilled core leaked so much natural gas that, when lit, shot a flame appoximately 30 feet into the air.

It is sufficiently smaller now.....

Look closely and you, too, can experience the wonder of Flaming Geyser State Park!

(dramatic orchestra music plays, then diminishes....fade to black)

WWDTW - Flaming Geyser

2007-02-21T07:26:00.000-08:00

*Updated! With bigger and better pictures!*

**Also note - I am a horrible movie-end-ruiner, so if you don't know what happens at the end of "Bridge to Terabithia" then, good God man, stop reading right here!**

Finally! Something that I can actually write about for a "What We Did This Weekend" post. Its been a long time.

First of all, the girls and I - along with Mistah, Natalie and Grace - went to "Bridge to Terabithia" this weekend. Holy. It was very sad. Sophie cried for an hour - and it would have been longer but she cried herself to sleep.

It was a fantastic movie - and we all knew that she died in the book. But...wow.

We also took advantage of the one great sunshiny day to go to a local state park called "Flaming Geyser". It is beautiful there, and luckily only 20 minutes from my house. You all should come visit. I would take you there. Really, I would.

Rivers are obviously very funny.

Oooo....ahhhhh.....

Can you get any more mossy? It's a fairy world. Sophie loves it.

Please notice that little trees are growing out of the fallen tree that is bridging the trail. Cool, huh?

More tomorrow.....

I Feel Much Better - Thank You

2007-02-16T07:17:00.000-08:00

Just in case you were worried that I have turned into an angry, profanity-spewing monster I thought I would post the letters that I wrote to the girls on Valentine's day. This blog is eventually for their benefit, so occasionally I should probably put something in it about them, eh?

________________________________
Maya,

I am so glad that you are my daughter. When you were born you changed my life forever. I never knew how much love I had in my heart until I saw you for the first time.

I am so proud of the person that you are becoming. You are so smart and funny! I remember being in fourth grade and how exciting it was when I realized I was growing up. It can be hard and frustrating sometimes, but it's the biggest adventure of your life.

Thank you for being so sweet and kind to your friends, your sister and me.

You are an amazing girl.

Mom

__________________________

Sophie,

What would I do without you? I cannot image my life without you in it. I love you so much it hurts - but in a good way! :)

I love your laughter and how you always sing in the shower. Did you know that you even sang in the bathtub when I gave you baths as a baby?

I think you were born happy. Not many people are lucky like that - so remember just how special you are.

You have a lot of friends because you are a good friend. Keep being that way! You have a way with people that will bring you a lot of joy in your life.

Thank you for being such a fantastic kid.

Mom

This Post Contains More Expletives Than Normal

2007-02-14T17:23:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day irritates me.

This year is no exception. I started my period. I haven't finished my infamous yearly mixed CD for the occasion. The new blogger hasn't let me on to post in days. I started my period.

And unecessary personal barriers were crossed at 6:20 a.m.

Now, I love Mickie (my daughters' spunky 68 year-old nanny) but she is about as subtle as a telephone pole up against the side of your head. She has always "carefully alluded" to the fact that I am overwieght.

"I bought you some of this fantastic non-fat calorie-free yogurt if you would happen to like some for breakfast!"

"I noticed that you didn't have anything to make a salad with, so I just picked up some ingredients. Salads make a great light dinner, don't you think?"

"You need to count your blessings. At least you have your health - for the most part."

I normally just play dumb and ignore her, but when she brought up the fact this morning that "she" wanted to go on a diet and was wondering if we couldn't share in making lowfat (but tasty!) meals to share - it was just too much.

I'm not much of a team player. Over-analyzation of anything makes me feel like poking my left eye out with a large rusty nail. Most things have beautifully simple answers that people tend to muck all up with their logic.

"I feel that I am overweight because I am afraid to let anyone be too close."

"I was never taught portion control."

"I don't have time to exercise."

In reality, eat less - exercise more. Anyone on God's green earth can do that if they want to . And to be perfectly honest, I'm not all that into it right now.

I feel like I have pulled my shit together in the last few years. I have worked on moving up in my work. I make sure my family is happy. My free time is spent doing things that I love.....or laundry. I am a fucking happy and well-adjusted person, dammit. I just eat more chocolate than most people.

It utterly amazes me that so many people personalize my adipose tissue and make it their problem.

My Mom constantly talks about "We need to get our weight under control."

When the hell did my weight become OUR issue?

If I happened to notice that someone that I knew had....say...a small penis - I would not think it was a good idea to say something like...

"Hey, I don't have a penis. I've always wanted one, though. I was wondering if I bought one of those penis enlargement pump things if maybe we could work together to try to enlarge our....well, you know,... our package. What do you think? It would be fun!"

Or...

"I noticed that you seem relatively stupid. I was thinking that it might be a good idea for us to take some community college classes in, let's say, Math 101? Or maybe Grammar? I always feel more supported when I do something like that with someone else."

Here's the thing. I'm fucking awesome. I have great kids. I would venture to say that I am somewhat witty and fun to be around. I have good morals. I practice good hygiene.

So, please...back the fuck off and just let me be happy. When I feel like I want to do something, trust me, I know what to do.

"The Movie"

2007-02-07T11:40:00.000-08:00

Just as I was sitting down to dinner with the girls last night I was accosted with this question from Maya...

"So....when did you have to watch "The Movie"? You know the one."

And honestly, I don't remember every seeing "The Movie". I guess they figured that us country girls already knew all there was to know. Growing up on a cattle ranch does expose you to the importance of breeding right off the bat, I guess.

Sometime in April Maya's fourth grade (fourth grade!?) class will be split by gender to view this movie. Many kids are quite anxious, but it did my heart good to have Maya say, "Wow. I'm really glad you told me all about that stuff last year. At least I won't be surprised."

I went into quite some detail last year, so I am sure that nothing will come as a huge surprise, but I did warn her that "The Movie" would probably be more technical in nature than our numerous conversations in the kitchen have been.

We talked about "It" some more just to clarify some of her questions and then she said..."Boy, are some people going to be surprised!"

String Theory

2007-02-06T07:29:00.000-08:00

I have been embroiled in Science Fair experiments.

Currently there are 20 clear glasses of various solutions sitting around my house. Little strings dangle from sticks lying across the tops of the glasses waiting for crystals to grow.

Our scientific notebooks are being used to record data and our hypotheses, across the board, are currently being dis-proved (dis-proven?).

I suffer from writers block caused by too much bloggable fodder. So I am setting a goal for myself for one entry per day for the rest of February.

Maybe that will help....

Bubbalicious

2007-01-22T20:09:00.000-08:00

I got a call at work last week that our favorite neighbor, Natalie, was a tad bit pissed. She, apparently, had innocently used her stair rail in her house to aid in going downstairs and plunked her had in a wad of almost freshly chewed gum.

I got a call from Mickey, my daughters' nanny, that the girls were not allowed to play with her daughter until someone came forward with the truth.

Natalie had obviously ruled out her husband, myself, and the dog Roxy as the culprit.

When I got home I sat the girls down at the table and turned on the bare light bulb - trying to get to the truth the old fashioned way. Both Maya and Sophie denied that it was them. I pointed out that Sophie had just scored a pack of Hubba Bubba Watermelon and I still had my suspicions.

"I give you 24 hours to come forward with the truth," I said. "And Hubba Bubba Watermelon definitely has a destinctive color. Tomorrow after work I will call Natalie and ask her what color the gum was. Then I will know for sure."

Still, the denial.

The next morning at approximately 10:00 am I got a phone call at work. It was Sophie. It went a little something like this...

"Hi Mom? Um, I was just remembering that maybe when Grace and I were playing? And she was downstairs and I was upstairs? That I might have been laughing and the gum maybe fell out of my mouth? It possibly could be my gum?"

Oh...the shock.

When I got home Sophie and I talked. I told her that she knew whether or not gum fell out of her mouth and it was better just to own it than to dance around the subject. And I must say that in her seven-year-old way she got around to owning it.

Because she beat the deadline I told her that she was not getting any punishment from me - but we did need to go to Natalie's to admit to the wrong-doing. This had the desired effect and mild hysteria set in.

Sophie loves Natalie and her husband Mistah (his nickname given to him by Sophie) so much. I think she likes hanging out with them more than she likes to play with their daughter Grace. The thought of facing up to this was almost too much to bear.

I let her stew on it awhile and sneaked away to my bedroom to call Natalie. She, too, had her suspicions - so it wasn't a huge shock. And she is a big softie. After the stickiness of the gum wore off she was feeling quite a bit better about things. I encouraged her to put on her "Bad Ass Mom" hat and help me through this learning experience.

Natalie is one of those parents that is a great communicator. She probably never would have given her child the "Dead Man Walking Deadline" as I had. I knew that she would handle it very well.

The walk to their house was agony. Sophie wanted me to hold her hand - which I wouldn't. I just told her that I was going to be there, but this was her responsibility to own up to her mistakes and offer to make it right.

The face-to-face meeting with Natalie happened in her kitchen only moments later. Sophie did well with eye contact, but started sobbing and wanted desperately to be let off the hook.

No dice.

Natalie was much nicer than I and offered a place for Sophie to sit down, eventually offering her lap. Not only that, but she said things like, "Do you really think there is something that you could do that would make me not be your friend?" and "I will love you no matter what and we will work through this together." Finally, Sophie was able to whisper the bad thing into Natalie's ear - and then fell against her sobbing and shaking.

Then, in the best communicator way she has, Natalie said, "Wow! You have really grown! Not on the outside, but boy! You have grown a whole lot on the inside. I can even see it - it's that important."

How great is she?

Sophie was so relieved that she offered to clean their bathroom. (Which she truly excels at, I can attest to that.) After the crying jag she was back to her old self - stopping the singing and dancing in the living room to hug Natalie every few minutes.

And honestly, I have to admit that Natalie and I had to make an excuse to go out to the deck because we both were crying by the end of it. I think Natalie cried because it had been made into something much bigger than it really was - and Sophie was so truly sorry. I cried because I was proud that she really was that truly sorry. It surprised me a little.

I remember the first time I had to admit a bad mistake. It was awful. I will tell that story soon, but I can tell you it involved a kindergarten me flipping off my sister and then deciding I would live in the back of my Dad's shop forever instead of facing my Mom....

Do you remember the your first big admission of guilt?

Day Seven of Snow Days...The Pressure Mounts

2007-01-17T20:50:00.000-08:00

So, Toga Ken, when you were found by Barbie "in flagrante delicto" with Biker/Malibu Ken....how did it make you feel?

(You absolutely have to click on this picture for the larger version. Really, you do. Then you can see their facial expressions.)

I declare a "Caption that Photo"contest! Best one gets....um....a collection of single (un-paired, that is) Barbie shoes!

Please God, Let The Snow Melt, Already!

2007-01-16T20:11:00.000-08:00

The girls have been out of school since last Wednesday! Snow day turned into snow days - and insane boredom has set in.

I went to work, finally, for a few hours on Friday. Only to be faced with a three day weekend after an already unexpected three days off. It was cold and the snow refused to melt until Monday showed a glimmer of warmth. (That is to say three hours of 34 degrees.)

Tuesday finally came with it's promise of back to school and work....

And we woke up to MORE SNOW!

It is insane. We never have this amount of persistant cold and snow. If only the torrential downpours would return with their liquidity and predicability.

We almost made it to four entire days without any type of precipitation. Almost. If we would have made it, those four days, it would have been the first four day period since October that we have had no precipitation of any kind.

Doesn't that seem a bit excessive?

I normally enjoy the gray and drizzly winters. But I am ready for a bit of sun and temperatures above 40 degrees.

Please?

Snow Day!

2007-01-11T09:37:00.000-08:00

Not to reiterate the obvious, but this has been a strange weather year.

Many winters we don't see any snow at all. Rain, rain and more rain - and in normal circumstances maybe one day with snow.

This year we have had three snow storms, three (or four?) bad windstorms, and record breaking rainfall. The girls have been out of school on snow days so much they will be making up snow days until July.

Being from Montana everyone expects that this should be no problem for me. The problem is that Montana snow is extremely dry and powdery - it basically has no moisture content at all. Here, however, the snow is heavy and wet - and it immediately turns to ice, coating the roadways with inch deep sheets of the skating rink material. If you don't have a zamboni, don't even bother trying to drive.

So, for the second day, we are at home. I secretly love it, but unfortunately have no vacation time left to take at work so it goes unpaid. Oh well...the girls and I are having a blast having snowball fights, playing board games and drinking cocoa.

Happy snow day everyone!

My poor cold house.

Look at the power lines! They have about three inches of snow on them.

Mysterious footprints.

The brave and chilly Minty Squirrel.

Mom, Don't Read My Diary

2007-01-04T21:28:00.000-08:00

For Christmas Megan got me the book "Mortified - Real Words. Real People. Real Pathetic." The back of the book reads....

"In the days before blogs, teenagers recorded their lives with a pen in top-secret notebooks, usually emblazoned with an earnest, underlined plea to parents to keep away. Since 2002, David Nadelberg has tapped that vast wellspring of adolescent anguish in the stage show Mortified, in which grown men and women confront their past with firsthand tales of their first kiss, first puff, worst prom, fights with mom, life at bible camp, worst hand job, best mall job, and reasons they deserved to marry Simon LeBon."

I knew I was going to love it, and read it in two days. It's a scream, and I recommend it to anyone.

As fate would have it, while talking to my Mom tonight, she admitted to reading my diary while she was here this year. This "diary" is actually my journal I wrote in in 1995 while I was working in Alaska.

She suggested I burn it before the girls read it.

This prompted me to pull it out (no need to wipe the dust off, Mom) and look inside. These were wilder days...before kids...what the hell did I write? Obviously, crazy things like...

"It was almost a full moon tonight so I took a long walk up and around the cove. Gorgeous. There are waterfalls, huge trees, flowers - its like a little elf world. I sat on a bench by a waterfall and watched the trees in the moonlight."

Where are my matches!?

But maybe it was this...

"Then there's Kenny. Why can't I get him off my mind? I cannot believe the way he made me feel in such a short time. It's hard to tell what is really going on between us. I can't read his mind and I know what his motives were for our relationship, but all I know is he made me feel so incredibly good when we made love - it was like I was a totally new person. I usually am very guarded or almost flippant about sex but I was saying and doing things before I thought about what the repercussions might be. I don't know if it's love, but I do know that I have experienced lust and this isn't that."

Or could it be this quote that I jotted down?

"Only the rather stupid and insentient, nowadays, have strong and sharply defined personalities. Only the barbarians among us 'know what they are'."
-Aldous Huxley "Eyeless in Gaza"

And really...that's about it. There's some comment on my co-workers, a few tirades about the captain, some descriptions of nights were I drank too much. But the excerpts above were really the raciest it got.

Dang. Good thing she didn't find my erotic fiction.

Call Me Ishmael

2007-01-03T21:27:00.000-08:00

I am a nerd.

My idea of fun often lies in sketching chemical compounds (ah...covalent bonding..), diagramming sentences or watching documentaries.

Not too long ago I invited a friend over for an evening of pizza, beer, and the Enron documentary, "The Smartest Guys in the Room".

One of my very favorite things to do on the weekends is to watch the Discovery or National Geographic channels if they are showing any ocean/underwater documentaries. It could be about the breeding habits of sea cucumbers, I don't even care.

I am mesmerized by anything underwater. Sharks, kelp, whales, those weird fish with the photoluminescent fishing lures that are actual body parts!

A few years ago I watched a documentary on giant squid - and I was hooked! They are huge, and gnarly, and any real specimens that were shown were half rotten. You just don't get any better than that. In a follow up documentary they had found baby giant squid bobbing along in the currents off of Australia. They were on the right track and the clock was ticking before they were going to be able to film one alive.

I was a bit obsessive about this. That is all I really wanted to see out of the scientific community for months after. Finally, my interest lagged and I moved on to other things (namely ancient caldera locations in Russia and the Chamchatka peninsula to name a few).

Then, it happened.

They captured the first ever live squid on camera. I jumped online and looked and viewed and looked some more. And I was disappointed. I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe something violent. Maybe the giant squid would leap out of the ocean and envelope the research vessel in it's tentacles, forever dragging the courageous captain and crew into the murky depths.....

(I was listening to the audio version of Moby Dick at the time. Maybe that was my problem.)

My giant squid fascination petered out. Kaput.

Until right before Christmas when this happened. I hope you agree that this is the coolest picture ever. Twenty four feet (seven meters) long - and its a young female.

I bet there is going to be the greatest squid documentary soon! You are all invited over for popcorn and cheap wine!

The Death That Rocked The World

2006-12-30T15:02:00.000-08:00

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

2006-12-28T19:29:00.000-08:00

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 ...

Davey Jones
Captain Morgan
Jack Sparrow

The Other Shoe

2006-12-28T18:50:00.000-08:00

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.

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.
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).
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.
I don't have any good toenail polish colors.
I am too tired to go to the store to buy any good toenail polish colors.
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

2006-12-28T18:39:00.000-08:00

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

2006-12-24T20:31:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-12-21T09:04:00.000-08:00

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

2006-12-20T21:27:00.000-08:00

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

2006-12-19T21:22:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-12-19T10:05:00.000-08:00

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

2006-12-18T20:05:00.000-08:00

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...

2006-12-16T09:27:00.000-08:00

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

2006-12-14T19:27:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-12-12T18:34:00.000-08:00

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

2006-12-07T17:25:00.000-08:00

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

2006-12-05T20:39:00.000-08:00

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.

My Knight In Shining Armor

2006-11-13T07:28:00.000-08:00

Ant has written a fantastic post about my favorite subject - ME!

Go read it!

Ba-Da-Bum..

2006-11-07T21:54:00.000-08:00

Sophie told me this joke at dinner tonight:

There were three people named Shut up, Poop and Manners. They got in a car wreck. Manners was helping Poop while Shutup went to the police station. He ran in and the police said, "What's your name?"

"Shut up!"

"What's your name, son?"

"Shut up!"

"Where's your manners?"

"He's getting poop out of the ditch!"

I.am.so.proud.

You Make Me Wet

2006-11-06T20:42:00.000-08:00

Since Friday the Cascade Mountains have had over a foot of rain. Seattle has had over 8 inches - today alone it had 3.5.

November is always the wettest month. But this is above and beyond.

The storm drains are clogged with the cement of rotting leaves. The saturated ground is screaming "No more!" and forcing the rain into puddles. The puddles overflow in raging torrents that use the street as their riverbed, and cars for white water inducing boulders.

It is fantastic.

I was riding the Dart - a short bus of sorts that goes from work to the train station - we were the last one down the street before it was shut down to all traffic. As we were driving through the "James Street River" the water was coming into the bus as high as the second step.

I missed the first train, but boarded the second and got to the station at home with no problem. But, unfortunately it was then that I realized that I had left my car keys at work.

I trudged through mid-calf-high streams all the way home - the wind buffetting my umbrella and encouraging it to invert into yet another water vessel.

I can safely say that it is the first time I have come home from work with pruney toes.

I love this time of year.

What The Hell Am I Writing About?

2006-11-05T17:55:00.000-08:00

Just for fun, a few of the searches that have ended up at this blog in the last 24 hours.....

"Light as a feather, stiff as a bull."
"You and me baby aren't nuthin like mammals."
"Induce God vomiting."
"Dangers of swallowing chicken thigh bones."
"Puppy swallowed gravel."

Note To Self...

2006-11-02T21:22:00.000-08:00

From Maya's third grade writing notebook, October 6, 2005.

Prewirte is when you brain storm your idias.

First Draft is when you write your idias.

Revise is when you correct our mastacs.

Edit is when you or somebuddy eles corrects your paper.

Final Daft is when your all most don but you have to write again.

Proofread is when you fix your work.

The hardest part of the writting proess for me is the proofread because I'm really tired of writting.

The easiest part of the writting process for me is the prewritting because you just have to brain storm your idias.

I think, obviously, the easiest part of the writing process for me is the Final Daft.

The Devil, A Pirate and a Nun Walk Into a Bar....

2006-10-31T21:24:00.000-08:00

Halloween is one of the best times for the girls and I. We are hard core when it comes to this holiday. We are out from 4:00 pm to 9:00 pm - rain or shine. This year bested last year because of no rain, but it was very chilly (in the 20's - which will seem insanely cold to some of you and ridiculously warm to others...but it is all in how I perceived it, really. That is what is important here.)

Pepper joined in the merriment for her first Halloween by sporting a pirate skull and crossbones collar. Avast! She is a damn fine cat, she is.
Maya was a pirate of the cutthroat group of "I must bare my midriff although I am only 9 and my Mom gave me that look and I had to promise it was just for Halloween and not real life" pirate crew.

And Sophie was, well, herself.

We practiced looking menacing.

And then lost all our menace when faced with a "sister".

Sophie was just a bit nervous by the moving and shaking skeleton thingy just off camera right.

Fog machines are cool.

Our Pumpkins. Mine is the small one. It is supposed to be really cool and polka-dotty. The polka dots proved too small to provide enough oxygen to the candle flame - even though I carved eleventy billion of them. Therefore, the top is off the pumpkin. And it doesn't even look cool.

But it had cool pumpkin potential.

Then we arrived back home. And even though sugar was racing through our veins, we were tired anyway.

Really tired.

Sugar coma tired.

Hope you had a great time too!

Love,

Shari and the ghouls

Lessons From the Past

2006-10-29T09:20:00.000-08:00

Four years ago today my Dad passed away. I stood in the middle of the kitchen in my old house listening to the silence after the announcement. I couldn't cry right way. John came up to me and hugged me and didn't say a word. I was able to lean on him and have no fear of falling. I'm glad he was there.

I think my current situation has much to do with that day. I am craving that feeling - that "It's okay, I've got you" type of trust. It can become exhausting when you are the one that does the falling and, at the same time, the one responsible for the picking yourself up.

It's not going to be where I've been looking.

It might be hard, but it is not impossible. I always appreciated my Dad's honesty and strength. Even when I was making horrible decisions in my life he would tell me to face those decisions and do everything I could to make them right. "But, God dammit kid, try not to make them in the first place."

I hear you, Dad. Loud and clear.

Grandpa Lars and my Dad, Gunnar.

My favorite picture.

*Sorry about the picture quality, but I don't have a scanner.....

Make Up Your Damn Mind, Already!

2006-10-26T19:06:00.000-07:00

So I had a phone call from the one person that I have been wondering about.

It was just a voice mail, but it still made my heart leap a little. Not a leap of love, but more like a leap of "there is a possibility to end my long draught of celibacy". It would be easy. It would be good. It would be nice.

Sometimes I just miss the smell of a man. Good god, that sounds ridiculous doesn't it? But, like I read in a Tom Robbins book once, sex is 95% smell, 5% touch. I tend to agree.

The last time I posted on this subject I got the comments that I was expecting. I must say, however, that Ant was the one that nailed my feelings about it all....

Ant said...
Hum. I get the thoughts of "fuck it, let's just go out and get laid" on a semi-regular basis. Then I go and do my Friday Dance and end up thinking a lot clearer: Sex without strings doesn't exist for me, and tough-talk notwithstanding, I don't think it exists for most other people either. So even though I've got a sneaking suspicion I'm sounding a lot like my parents, I advise caution. Until the woman comes along that completely and utterly knocks me off my feet, I'm perfectly content to Friday Dance the night away. The relationship hassles of something that isn't working just aren't worth it.

Dammit.

He is so right. You all know that Ant is my mental soul-mate, right? We have amazingly similar views on things. When he wrote this comment it was in my plans to email him back and thank him for bringing my mind back to normal again. (Thanks Ant, a bit late...)

If anyone knows how to get by on the "Friday dance", trust me, it is I -I have been celibate for two years now. The Friday dance is some of the best sex I have ever had - quick, to the point, a-wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am sort of pleasure. But the man smell is missing. And the warmth of bare skin. And the laughing. And the falling asleep afterwards with my head on the chest of a breathing and, dare I say, aromatic male.

I can remember exactly how he smells.

Maybe I can get it out of my system. Maybe all it will take is just one time. Maybe I won't want him to keep coming back.

Maybe.

Maybe I won't get attached....

My Favorite Season

2006-10-24T21:27:00.000-07:00

“Best of all he loved the fall … the fall with the tawny and grey, the leaves yellow on the cottonwoods, leaves floating on the trout streams and above the hills the high blue windless skies."

Ernest Hemingway

What I Did This Weekend - Distraction

2006-10-23T20:29:00.000-07:00

You may notice that the weekly segment's title this week is changed just a bit. The "we" has morphed to an "I".

I can't deny that everything done this weekend was totally for my own benefit.

I spent Friday night with three friends drinking mulled wine and playing Cranium. My team won by the way. And we hardly cheated at all!

Saturday was spent doing chores and getting ready to go to a Halloween costume party with my friend Jeannie. We went as Nick and Nora - the characters from Dashiel Hammett's Thin Man series. I was looking quite smashing as Nora in my sparkly, fringy black dress, red feather boa, insanely high heels, and even more insane red lipstick.

But, the MapQuest directions were no good. We had no phone number. We drove in circles.

And then we went to eat at the Thai place by the mall. There was no shortage of strange looks.

Sunday was spent lolling alongside the Carbon River. I lay directly down in the sand - the finest sand ever on the earth. It's made of ash and glacial silt and lahar leavings. It's beautiful stuff, like powdered sugar. The girls played in the clay - making quicksand and taking turns saving each other from it.

My heart just wasn't in it.

Saturday Voldemort got married.

I thought I would be okay with it. I have had since Spring to come to the realization that I had missed my chance. For two years he had been so sweet. Said all the right things. Sent me little notes in the mail like this:

"You bring light to the world. It has been dark here lately. I need to see you soon."

No matter how I replay it, I still made the right decision for me. I couldn't go there. I knew he was looking to get married and have that picture perfect thing. He needs his own children. He needs his own non-watered-down experience. And I can't and won't have that to offer for quite some time.

But still, it hurt.

Friday night I was telling on of my favorite stories about my college roommate and I watching "Let's Make a Deal" and how the adorable, young, and obviously broke couple made us cry. They would have been totally happy with Door Number One - but it was quite obviously not the best door. All of a sudden my laughter dissolved into tears. They all thought I was just doing the patented Shari-laughing-so-hard-she's-crying thing. But I had just realized how fitting the rest of the story was. I wasn't able to finish it then, but I will now....

The damn audience pushed and pushed them to choose another door. Laura and I yelled, "No! You'll be happy with this! What if you get a goat (or something)?" I was on the edge of my seat with worry for them.

They chose another door much to my dismay. And guess what?

They won a trip around the world. The honeymoon they never had.

I would have never imagined it was possible.

I'm not very good at that game.

Hazel

2006-10-19T19:35:00.000-07:00

When I was very young my Grandma would take me to Melrose to visit her friend Hazel.

Hazel was a very old woman. Her house had that old woman smell, which to me is not unpleasant. It's a smell that stinks of dust bunnies and old wrinkly skin and cat hair. I know that I am quite alone in my love of this smell. I know.

She had cats. And old furniture. And what seemed like millions of tiny glass figurines - mostly... of cats.

She was a very tall woman, even though her upper back was hunched by her age.

In my later elementary school years Hazel came to live with my Grandparents. She must have been too old to live alone, but at the time I just thought it was great that she was going to be right there for me to play with.

My Grandparent's house was only about 200 yards from my house. Just a short jaunt past the flowering almond tree, over the irrigation ditch, and I was there.

Hazel wasn't necessarily overly attentive to me. I just liked her. I talked to her incessantly when she was doing her needlepoint. Often she would limp outside to sit in the passenger side of my Grandpa's light blue Mazda B2000 pickup in order to soak up the sun through the windows.

I'm sure she would have liked to enjoy her sunbath in peace. To loll peacefully in the sun like her adored cats. But I couldn't let that happen.

I would jump into the driver's seat and ask her where she wanted to go. Invariably she would croak, "Monticarlo!" And off into the imaginary sunset we would go.

When I learned that Monticarlo was not necessarily in the continental United States I just drove over the ocean floor, pointing out sharks and giant clams like the greatest 9-year-old tour guide you can even imagine.

Those were the best road trips of my life.

We never arrived at Monticarlo - if we did then the game would be over.

Later, when I was in Junior High School - specifically sixth and seventh grade - Hazel had to go into the rest home in town for care. She was over 90 years old.

It was long enough ago that lunch hours were our own as students. We were allowed to walk around town as long as we were back in time for class. Most kids walked to the penny candy store or to "Snappy Service" for two for one hot dogs.

I walked across the street to the rest home.

I would go sit with Hazel and listen to her stories. I would gush my own life stories out to her as if she was my 12-year-old equal.

She asked me if I would bomb all the Macaroni and Cheese factories for her. They served it to her all the time and she hated it. I promised I would and we shared a conspiratorial giggle.

Hazel passed away not too long after I got into High School - in a part of town too far away to walk to visit her at lunch. She left me some wonderful things.

The first was a cedar chest made by her father at the turn of the century. It is not just lined with cedar, but made entirely of the red, aromatic wood. The lock plate is hand-hammered copper. It sits in my Mother's house, waiting for a time when I have a house where I have enough room for it.

Another treasure is a friendship ring made of rose gold. It is two snake like creatures that twine around the finger in opposite directions. One has a red gem eye and the other green. The soft metal has been worn for so long that is melded together and smoothed out in places. She must have worn it many years to get it that way.

The last thing is a quilt that was actually made by my Aunt for my birthday two years ago. The squares of the quilt, however, are all needlework that was done by Hazel as she sat at my Grandma's house, with me blathering on and on as she patiently listened - and stitched through time.

I had carefully packed the quilt away so nothing would happen to it, but I have decided to unfold it, air it out and enjoy the comfort and warmth of it.

You have to do that with memories now and then.

Update

2006-10-18T20:20:00.000-07:00

Exciting news from the work front....

My boss got a promotion, which means that I will be applying for her old job.

I really, really want it.

A lot.

What We Did This Weekend - Pumpkin Patch

2006-10-15T17:22:00.000-07:00

We didn't even mean to end up at the Pumpkin Patch today. We just went for a walk on the River Trail - and lo and behold - there we were!
On the walk there, we did have a great opportunity to catch falling leaves in our umbrellas. If you haven't tried this, you should.
Sigh. Man, I love this place. It just overwhelms the senses.
And the huge sawdust pile and wheeled toys with which to ride down it is just about the best thing ever.
Four Pumpkins.
And, of course, the requisite corn maze.
And warty gourds. (That would be a great name for a rock band. The Warty Gourds.)
Mini Pumpkins!
And my personal favorite, Cinderella pumpkins.

Wish you could have been there.

You And Me Baby Ain't Nothin' But Mammals

2006-10-10T21:03:00.000-07:00

Okay. I have a dilemma.

I have been feeling a bit lonely of late. This, too, shall pass - I know. But I am wondering if I shouldn't venture out a bit.

And by saying venturing out, what I really mean is, heading back to something well known and comfortable.

I don't have time or patience for a relationship. Hell, I don't really want a relationship in most peoples' view of the word.

What I want is the option to see someone when I want, not get hung up on them, and keep up with my everyday living as if nothing has changed.

Is that too much to ask?

I don't want a bunch of phone calls or emails - one every few days or so; once a week maybe?

I would like some companionship that has no strings attached and that I know I will enjoy. And I know just the guy. It's been done before with fantastic results.

But still I hesitate.

The thing is, I tend to start liking the person that I have sex with. Against all my rules and all my plans. I don't want to get stuck in the drama of the liking, the having to stop a good thing because of the liking, then the feeling bad because the person I like, I left.

Capice?

Whatever.

And I know what you all will say. But I stand firm. There is no reason that I need someone in my life. I truly believe that it would be absolutely ridiculous to start in with someone, have them meet my girls, have it not work out.....etc.

My girls are worth waiting until they grow up. At that point I will put myself through all the crap I want. But it's not about me right now.

This person knows my rules...they don't need to be attentive for long periods of time, they don't meet my girls, they don't....well, get involved.

Now I need to discern whether I know my rules or not.

Get Your Rocks Off

2006-10-08T21:21:00.000-07:00

My dreams are full of symbolism. They are, however, not full of mystery.

Some people have extremely odd and random dreams that would take a team of psychoanalysts months to figure out.

These are not my dreams.

Here is the most recent example from a dream early last week:

I was sitting in a room, at work, by myself at my desk. There was a long line (50 people, or so) of employees waiting to talk to me. All of them had a bag.

In reality we had a Health and Wellness Fair at my job that everyone in my department was involved in. During the fair, everyone who came was given a small brown paper shopping bag in which to put all of the cool free stuff our company and our vendors were giving out.

In the dream, the queue of employees all had these bags in their hands. Somehow I knew they all had the same problem.

The first guy came up to me and we both peered into his bag that he had plopped on the table. There were water bottles, sunscreen, all the stuff I know we had at the fair - but there was also three round, flat massage stones.

You know the kind that they heat and lay on your back? Those.

He was disappointed with his rocks.

I smiled brightly. I could fix this! This one was easy!

"That's okay! I have a entire bin of my very own rocks right here!" I gestured confidently towards a large bin of stones on my right, "You can pick any of them! Help yourself!" a offered with a big smile.

I must say that my rocks were beautiful. They were large and flat- and they had one thing that everyone elses' rocks did not.....they were incredibly shiny rocks. Beautiful, shiny perfect rocks.

He started rummaging in my rock bin as I gestured for the next person to approach my desk. I could help them! This was going to be a walk-in- the-park day of problem solving!

Then I heard a heavy sigh coming from the vicinity of my rock bin.

I looked over to see the man sneer, snort dismissively, and snidely say, "Um..yeah. That's all right. I'll just keep MY rocks." And then he walked away.

He didn't like my rocks.

Bastard.

The Bombs Bursting in Air

2006-10-05T19:54:00.000-07:00

Sophie had a bad day yesterday.

I came home to her weeping on the couch. Her heart was broken. When I asked her what was wrong she sob-yelled, "Maddie LIED to me!"

Maddie is her six-year-old friend from down the street. Apparently she had been telling Sophie all summer long that she believed in fairies.
Sophie's life, the last few months anyway, has totally revolved around fairies and their secret lives. She has spent days constructing fairy kingdoms in the rose bushes.

She make beds, furniture, bridges.....everything - mostly out of rhodedendron leaves and red rose petals (oh, and scotch tape, but only when absolutely necessary).

Maddie had the audacity to tell her that she has just been saying that she believes in fairies so she can help Sophie with the fairy construction. She actually does not believe that the furniture (and general fairy infastructure) will ever be used by any fairy or fairy-like creature.

Ha!

What a maroon!

Over dinner and many sniffles I told Sophie the story of why the pilgrims came to America and what the Bill of Rights and the Declaration of Independence was. And why it was.

Maddie, because she is an American, has the right to NOT believe in fairies.

Let's just say that Sophie is not embracing Democracy.

Dichotomy

2006-10-04T21:03:00.000-07:00

I am feeling restless.

My legs are jumpy and I haven't been able to concentrate very well.

I don't know if the trip to the ocean was a way of trying to get rid of this feeling, or if it is what started it.

I feel like I really have my life figured out - in as much as you can do such a thing. I am very happy at work, I love my family....I am busy....I have great friends.

What the hell is this thing?

You know the feeling you get sometimes when you look at a sky full of stars? That "I don't want to ever, ever, ever die I am so happy" feeling.

It's like that. A feeling so good, but then again, so destined to fail.

What can be missing? I have everything I want and need. I want to stay at home and cuddle my girls while at the same time I want to travel the world by sailboat. I want to make my closets perfectly organized, yet I want to get rid of everything extraneous in my house.

I want to be alone, but I want someone around that I can tell that to. As if being alone is something worth having only if I can emphatically declare it.

I have tended, in the last few days, to fall into fits of hysterical laughter. This is, by no means, a strange thing for me. But it usually means that there is something bothering me.

Hysterical laughter is a great thing because you can laugh and cry at the same time. Sometimes I think it's the best way to be able to cry in front of someone without having to tell them what's wrong.

Don't get me wrong. I am very happy.

I think.

Still Life With Grey Cheerios

2006-10-02T20:48:00.000-07:00

Plumbers earn their pay. I don't care what anyone says. I don't care if their butts hang out of their pants. They are magical creatures.

Some say bad things come in three's. I always try to disprove this rule -especially when I am on number 2.

This weekend started off with fixing the garbage disposal. I tried all the tried and true tricks, but of course none of them worked. I ended up with the disposal unit seated quite uncomfortably in my lap, fishing out the previous days meal remnants.

It was horrific. And smelly.

I finally found the offending object. A dime was jammed between the side of the machine and the whirly thing on the inside. It was so beaten up it was barely recognizable. I had to pry it out with the business end of a flat screwdriver and a sizeable amount of elbow grease.

It is now, astoundingly, working like a charm.

Isn't it amazing how a garbage disposal can chop food into really, really tiny pieces? Do you know how tiny? I do.

I know how tiny the pieces of food are. A whole soup of garbage disposal offal decided to take the scenic route to the outside world by way of my shower floor.

Coffee grounds, minced vegetables, and strangely enough - completely intact cheerios. How did they make it through the disposal mayhem intact? How does that happen? And should they possibly not be eaten because of this?

Maybe they are just indestructible ninja Cheerios. They are probably the ones that led the revolt in the first place.

Sneaky bastards.

Here is a rundown of my evening:

5:00 pm - Arrive home from work.

5:03 pm - Start cooking dinner in mad rush. (Pork chops, broccoli and baked potatoes).

5:45 pm- Get the kids loaded into the car and head off to piano lessons.

7:30 pm - come back home. Decide I must tackle shower or the house will be unlivable and I will not smell pretty at work tomorrow.

7:31 pm - Realize I have no Liquid Plumber. Call neighbor Natalie and borrow hers.

7:35 pm - Read instructions. "Pour no more than 4 cups of Liquid Plumber in slow drain. Wait 15 minutes. Flush with hot - not boiling water. Do not use plunger."

7:36 pm - Pour almost entire bottle of Liquid Plumber down drain. Put kettle on to boil.

8:05 pm - Put on Sophie's gold aviator Elvis impersonator glasses (eye protection) and pour boiling water down still plugged drain.

8:06 pm - See no change. Grab plunger. Hold breath and tuck lips in-between teeth to protect from possible acidic spray. Plunge.

8:07 pm - Drain clears.

8:10 - 8:20 pm - Scoop sludge and clean out shower with much disinfectant. Run water for a long time just to make sure.

Did I mention that during all of this I was also helping Maya with math and spelling homework and Sophie with two book reports?

I can do anything! I am woman hear me roar!

(I wish I was dating a plumber.)

What We Did This Weekend - Payback

2006-10-01T21:22:00.000-07:00

I knew I would pay for the weekend of beaches and sand and dead crabs. I just knew it.

Seeing that we left the house in a bit of a rush last weekend - so much of a rush that it probably looked like we were fleeing from the law - there was a bit of catch-up work to be done around the house.

The laundry monster reared its ugly head. It was bigger and more ferocious than normal. And...there was a lot of sand that it seemed to have tracked in on its stinky feet.

It is 9:19 pm and the monster has been reduced to a quivering, whimpering lump. But I will not stop until it is dead. Completely. One more load to go.

The lawn has also been tamed. The Pacific Northwest can work magic on the normal lawn grass. We had some rain, then a week of 80 degree weather. The lawn mower was choking on the thick carpet of luscious-ness for the better part of an hour. I whispered sweet nothings in its ear, encouraging it to just make it through one more time.

"The temperature is supposed to drop 20 degrees tomorrow and there's no end in sight. You can sleep in the shed until spring....I promise."

Socks have been matched. As usual there were some that cited irreconcilable differences and traveled to Jamaica to get their groove back. Or at least that's where I think they went.

Summer clothes were wrestled unwillingly into boxes even though I know that there is no possible way the girls will fit into them by the time the balmy weather returns. The closets and drawers are once again jammed with the bulk and itch of autumn. I love everything about autumn - except the closet space.

Looking back on it, the trip was still worth every last grain of sand that got tracked into the house.

It was perfect.