“How I Spent My Christmas Vacation”

I’ve read that when a tree is chopped down, its age can be determined by the number of rings in the cross section of the trunk. I also understand that the worse a particular year was for said tree, the thicker the corresponding ring appears. If our family tree ever gets chopped down and the cross section of our trunk examined, the ring for the Christmas Drive 2007 will appear particularly thick.

Following are the highs and lows of our Christmas Vacation. I’ll allow you, the reader, to determine which is which.

• Four in the morning, in the Middle of Nowhere, NE, and the words from Husbands mouth are “Uh oh, we are having some major car problems.”
• Waiting 1 1/2 hours for the tow truck to arrive, and our subsequent ride in the police cruiser back to the nearest town.
• 2 1/2 days in the Middle of Nowhere, NE waiting for our car to be repaired
• On the road again! The sweet sound of our car starting!
• Laramie, WY: I-80 and I-30 both closed due to inclement weather
• Another night in a hotel. If you are counting, that is night number four spent in a hotel.
• The next morning, we are on the road again, when traffic stops because of a jack-knifed semi a quarter of a mile ahead. We spend just over three hours with our car in “park” on the I-80 outside of Rawlins, WY.
• Fresh baked sugar cookies, mint brownies, honey almond bars, homemade soup and rolls and hugs and smiles from my brothers and sister.
• Two words: Christmas Elves (Hi Sara! Hi Scott! Hi Ed! Hi Ryan! Hi April!)
• Finally, a decent haircut for the Husband!
• Reconnecting with old friends as though no time at all had passed since we last saw each other. (Hi Dallas! Hi Shannon! Hi Kate! Hi Linette, Doug, et al!)
• Sunday dinner at Kim’s!
• People seem genuinely happy to see us . . .
• We met our new nephew and nieces!
• Stella learned to fly from her daddy’s arms to her uncle’s arms and back again. Seriously fly across the room.
• Extreme and unexpected generosity of family. We are still in a bit of shock.
• When we asked the boys what was the best part of their Christmas, they exclaimed without hesitation “Tubing with Uncle Rhett!”
• Jazz 98, Mavericks 90 (Hi Dallas!)
• XBOX update (Hi Again!)
• M 16, fully automatic. Super fun. Police training simulations. I could have stayed there all night.
• Games, games, and more games. Celebrity challenge, Settlers of Cataan, Dominos, and Cranium, just to name a few. Ah, the games.
• Professional eyebrow wax.
• A delicious treat consisting of orange segments, a fistful of peanut M&M’s, a handful of Oreos, and Gatorade.
• Time, not enough time

Good-bye

If you are still reading, you are about to get a Parenting Nugget of Wisdom. On the way home, certain children (who shall remain nameless) were fighting and punching and screaming at each other. Their father pulled the car to the side of the freeway, yanked the worst offender out of the car and into the blowing snow, and and offered to allow said offender to live in the ditch if he/she did not enjoy our family. The child made the wise decision to remain a part of our family, and now we all talk about how great it would be to live in a ditch out by the highway. Unless you want to get teased and teased, you should never parent while you are in a highly emotional state. You will inevitably say or do something silly, or at least say or do something to merit you’re being teased and teased.

So the good news is that even after cramming our family of five into our five seater and spending seven out of the last thirteen days stuck in said car or waiting for said car to be repaired, we arrived home without incident and Husband and Wife continue to be madly in love with each other and totally enamored with the kids. We even got in one more game of Cranium before sending the rugrats off to bed.

Love to all and good night . . .

Ice Ice Baby

Welcome to the Midwest!

This tree is in our backyard. That is ice, people, not snow.

Um, yeah, when they say ice storm, they mean ICE STORM!! We are cold, the power has been on the fritz all day, and our whole world is under an inch of ice. I went out to scrape it off the driveway before the snow started, but our $3 plastic shovel was not up to the task.

It’s not just the sight or the bone-chilling cold, but when the wind blows through the trees and the ice cracks, it’s like nothing I’ve heard before. Combined with the grey skies that haven’t seen sun in weeks and the silence before and after the ice cracks through the world, the sound of that cracking ice is downright eerie. Spooky.

I'm ready for some sun!

By the Number aka Go Figure

Twenty two years. That’s how long The Gingerbread Tradition has thrived in my family.

Six is the minimum number of hours it takes to assemble and decorate a Gingerbread House. This does not include the time it takes to mix, roll out, bake and cut out the pieces. Nor does it include the time it takes to make the candy for the windows. This work is already completed by Gingerbread Day.

Once is the number of times I have laughed until I peed my pants while we ate almost as much frosting as we used on our houses.

One hundred is the decibel count (according to our husbands, especially Quinn) when Aunts and Cousins start singing along with our good friend Karen Carpenter. We get even louder when we start in on the Charles in Charge theme song.

Three is the number of Gingerbread Houses that were made the first year in Auntie Kim’s kitchen.

Last year there were at least twelve.

Thirty seconds is how long my decision not to make a Gingerbread House this year lasted after I announced it to my family. All of them, including the Husband, were devastated by the news.

Two is the number of friends I invited to make their Gingerbread House number One.

Two is the number of friends who want to come back next year.

Zero is the number of regrets I have about changing my mind, keeping the tradition alive, and spreading our Gingerbreadness across the country.

Thank you so much, Robin and Teresa.

In which I confess to crimes from my past

I was an eighth grader at Thompson Junior High School in Bakersfield, CA and my youngest brother was preparing to make his appearance into the world any day. For some reason long forgotten I had signed up to volunteer at the nursing home up the street.

I nervously watched The Woman across the desk eyeing the note with my mother’s name signed at the bottom giving me permission to be tested for T.B., a requirement before I began my volunteer work.

“Your mother wrote this?” Each word dripped with suspicion.

“Yes ma’am.” I lied.

I watched her hand reach for the phone and squeaked out my phone number when she requested it. I held my breath as she explained to my mom who she was and why she was calling.

When she smugly said “That’s what I thought” I found my voice and asked her to allow me to talk to my mom.

“Mom,” I began. “Don’t you remember? I wrote the note and asked you to sign it . . . no, you didn’t actually write it, you just signed it.” It didn’t take much to bully her into believing that she had signed the note and just forgotten about it. I felt evil and manipulative as I handed the receiver back to The Woman. She wasn’t fooled, she knew exactly what she had just witnessed, but with mom on the other end of the phone backing up my story, there was nothing she could do about it.

I continued the charade when I came home and told my mom that she must have forgotten signing the note because she had so much on her mind, what with the new baby on its way and dad working so much. Then I went to my room and didn’t come out all night.

I didn’t miss a single week at the nursing home until I finally had to quit a year later because we were moving.

I never forged my mother’s signature again.

The End

P.S. I have apologized to my mom for this, and she says I am forgiven.

Overheard

Otherwise titled “Proud moments in Parenting”

Jack: Mom, who is the smartest person in the world?

Me: Your mother.

Jack: Seriously, mom. Is it Stephen Hawking?

Me: Maybe, he is pretty smart.

Creed: I know who the FIRST person in the world was.

Jack: So do I, it was Adam.

Creed: Yep, but then Eve was the second person.

Jack: Yeah, ‘cause they needed to breed.

“Daddy was the horsey and I was the cowgirl . . .”

“ . . . and I fell.”

That’s what she said when the E.R. nurse asked her how she broke her arm.

Humerus near the elbow, for anyone who’s interested.

Lovely Lady Bump @ 16 weeks

Self portraits are hard! I wish a tripod would find its way to my doorstep. A new lens would be nice too, and a camera bag.

Not much of a bump yet, but I neglected to adequately document the progress of the growth of my belly during my first three pregnancies, and I am determined to stop making that mistake. I would have loved to see pictures of my mother round with me in her belly.

I had an appointment today with my O.B., and everything looks great. I miss brie, and blue cheese, and feta, but my doctor assures me that it is still the national standard to advise expecting mothers against consumption of such cheeses. Boohoo, I guess I have to console myself with swiss, cheddar, and mozzarella. However, if Aunt Kim (or anyone else) makes baked brie while I am home for Christmas, I reserve the right to have some.

A Better Halloween there Never Was

Does life get any better than a glow-in-the dark anatomically correct skeleton and a cowboy who died from a bullet to the head . . . . . . and Snow White and seeing your dad wearing your pajamas?

Super Tuesday

Last night, when Sara and I realized that Bob was taking the car to work today, we went to the local RedBox and rented a few movies. We had a great day watching crap and baking cookies and cinnamon rolls. Here are the reviews of the movies we watched in the order that we viewed them:

Dreamgirls: We don’t get what all the hype was about. GLAD we didn’t pay full price to see it.

Evening: Some lady was dying, being visited by another lady in a sparkly dress at night, the sick lady kept babbling about people her daughters didn’t know, and Claire Danes was visiting some snobby rich people for a wedding. Don’t be sucked in by Toni Collette. This was no Muriel’s Wedding.

The Messengers: By far the best movie we rented. We both liked it.

Center Stage: I actually own this movie, I have watched it many times, and we both enjoyed today’s viewing. The final ballet is choreographed to Jamiroquai’s “Canned Heat” made popular by a certain bow hunter who lives in Preston, Idaho.

Underdog: We all went to this movie at the local bargain theater. On Tuesdays you can bring your own bag and get free popcorn!! And . . . . the movie was great!

yes, we watched five movies today. so what?

Random Updates

Our house has been boring lately, which is why there has been such a blogging dry spell. However, my sister informs me that frequent updates (no matter how boring) are much appreciated. So here goes:

Stella had a caterpillar from Creed’s teacher that turned into a cocoon and a few days later a butterfly emerged. It was very exciting.

Creed is still a nut and loves to draw. He has recently launched a campaign to sell his art for cash. One day, he taped several of his creations to the lamppost out front with a sign reading “Please buy these, we don’t have a lot of things.” I suspect that he had asked for a toy or a treat at the store and I must have said no. Jack offered to buy some of it, but Creed wouldn’t budge on the $20.50 price tag.

Jack is doing better. He definitely seems much happier. He won a contest at school. There was a jar of marshmallows and the students were to guess how many marshmallows were in the jar. He came in third place and won a free book at the book fair.

The wall in our shower rotted away along with a portion of the floor in the bathroom, so Robert has had a hands on lesson in bathroom remodeling. We have joined the throngs of homeowners who have credit accounts with the Home Depot.

Aunt Sara is here!

We are thinking of the Smith’s and Karaoke today at Mont’s house.

Kinda Wish We Had Cable

Here is Jack modeling his Aquabats tee shirt and his new haircut. Don’t tell him I said he was “modeling,” I’ll get in trouble.

A little over a year ago we found out that the Aquabats were creating a children’s show and marketing it to television networks. We went to the website for the program and let Stella watch the clips. She was hooked. For weeks she was asking to watch “Yo Gabba Gabba on the computer.”

Silly puppets, simple lessons, basic color scheme, and Biz Markee. Seemed like a recipe for success to me. But I hadn’t heard much about it until this week. Apparently the show is now airing on Nick Jr. and Stella and I recommend that you give it a chance. Some of the guest stars are Elijah Wood and Tony Hawk.

It may remind you of the cartoons we used to watch when we were kids.

At the very least you can chuckle at the notion of Biz Markee on kid’s t.v.

Kudos to those of you who know the name Biz Markee.

We are Not Wallowing in our Loneliness

I found this one on my pillow after I got out of the shower this morning.

He gave this to his dad last weekend:

“I love it when you play with me. Anyway, meet me tonight right now. It’s gonna be fun!

This is the math half: 2-2 is 0. 10-10 is 0.

to DAD 2-1 is one. 10-1 is 9. Love Creed”

I found this taped to the wall above his bed.

“My birthday is on this so please don’t put it in the garbage.”

And several days ago we found this one on our refrigerator (I think he took a few notes from Fancy Nancy.)

Plan

From

Creed

Activities

Today!

Fun and free

Hey Robert, call Kim and get her to invite us to dinner.

(Translation: I want to go back to Utah please. Right now. Today. Bad.)

At first I thought it was just Jack. He is having a hard time making friends at school. We drop him off, and his shoulders slump, he stands on the fringes of the other students, kicks at the dirt. When the bell rings, he heaves a sigh and literally seems to drag himself in to class.

The only other new kid in his class is the kid who wears the helmet during recess. (P.S. He survived a car wreck in April, was in a coma until early August. It’s a miracle he’s back to school at all. Apparently he suffered severe brain injuries and the helmet is to protect his head from further injury. His injuries affected his balance which is why he has to wear what looks like a leash to and from school.)

Anyway, Jack says the kids in his class like to play WWF during recess. He didn’t know what that was and was feeling a little left out, so I let him watch some of it on television. He did not become a fan and can’t bring himself to want to play (slight swelling of mother’s pride).

Then he had to write a poem for school. It was autobiographical. Among his fears, (cliffs, poison, murderers) and his needs (food, family, love) he listed that he feels LONELY, smart, and happy. I talked to him about the poem and he said that he mostly feels lonely at school. Then we had a pretty sad incident in class on Friday whose details will not be published on the World Wide Interweb (I don’t want to start a smear campaign) suffice it to say he came home a very sad little boy.

Cut to: yesterday afternoon. Creed came to me in tears and presented me with the above note (yes, my son writes me lots and lots of notes). He cried and cried because he misses his cousins, his friends, his aunts and uncles and his grandparents. He was inconsolable. In his case, I think it was just a mood. Unlike Jack, there are lots of kids in the neighborhood his age, and he feels like all the kids in his class are his friends. Still, yesterday afternoon broke my heart.

And now it’s all starting to rub off on mama. I’ve been feeling quite nostalgic and homesick. This afternoon for instance. If we were back home, we’d be piling into the car to crash someone’s Sunday dinner. Aunt Kim (bar-b-que chicken with mashed potatoes, salad, fresh tomatoes, sliced fruit and dessert by Chelsea), or Linette (something delectable that Kate came up with and I got to help make if I’m lucky, then a movie in the theater room), or April (delicious pot roast, mashed potatoes, deviled eggs, fried rice and whatever else happens to be in the cupboard). I didn’t mean to take Sunday afternoons for granted, but I am afraid that I spent the last ten years doing just that.

I feel like we are all in the Swamps of Sadness and if we are not careful, we’ll be letting the Sadness of the Swamp get to us. And it’s my job, as the mama, to pull us all out of it. With dad’s help as far as his schedule as an intern will allow it, which is not much.

Mmmmmm, Cake Good

We celebrated Stella’s birthday on Friday. I think she had a good day. She received her Halloween costume (Snow White, Not homemade) and a winter coat (light green, also not homemade.) We still need to get her some shoes that are not sandals before the cold winter days, but for now I think we are safe. Creed made her a birthday crown that did not survive long enough for a picture and our next door neighbor gave her a little gift as well.

If we aren’t careful, this girl could get through life purely on her charm. If you haven’t met her, you may think this is a mother boasting, but if you know her, you have to admit that it’s fact. She’s a charmer.

She was also able to speak to various cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents on the telephone. She received a message on the answering machine from Bob’s folks and her cousins singing “Happy Birthday.” I swear, she has listened to it ten times every hour and every time she hears it she answers them “I love you too!” “It WAS my birthday! I’m three now!” (By the way, she says three, not free.)

Stuff I KNOW You've been Dying to Know

Creed on his first day of school: “There are tons and tons and Tons and TONS of rules!”

Jack on his first day of school: “There’s a kid in my class who has to wear a helmut during recess and his mom walks him to school on a leash.” Seems like a good idea to me.

Today, after Creed’s second day of school: “Jack’s teacher looks like my teacher. They look like Grandma Julie.” (both skinny, both blondes, go figure)

Their school is peanut free. This is kind of annoying for me. I use enough of my creative energy on my face to face time with the little rugrats. (By providing them with glitter and glue, paint, markers, colored rice, different baking crap, I mean crafts, string, sticks, straws, not to mention all of the creative ways in which I am forced to think of to say “no” over and over.) Now I have to get creative with their lunches, too? I guess don’t want some kid to go into anaphylactic shock because I was too lazy to think of some new source of protein in my kids’ lunch, but peanut butter sandwiches are so easy, and cheap, and easy. The only alternative, affordable sources of protein I can think of are tuna fish and hard boiled eggs. But when I picture them opening their lunches at the table, I imagine the other kids making a beeline from the lunchroom and their teachers fainting when they lean in to answer one of the little angels’ questions after lunch. Any suggestions? (I guess I could stick a mint in the bag.)

Also, the check engine light is on in our car.

And they still hugged me goodbye . . .

School doesn’t start until 8:55 here. If perfection is any better than that, I can’t imagine it. My hair was actually combed and I applied some mascara before we had to leave. Stella took a bath (first one in three days, so gross) and we all ate breakfast together (minus dad, who leaves for work around 5:30). All in all a lovely morning.

Their school isn’t like anything I’ve seen before. The classrooms for each grade open up to a central “living room” in which the different classes actually interact with each other. Walls can be moved and arranged at will. I’m excited to see how the teachers utilize this feature.

In the foyer of the school, we split: the third grade hall is in one direction, the first grade hall in another. Jack assured me he could find his classroom (we had been to the school earlier in the week to meet their teachers and orient ourselves) and so off he went.

But not before giving his ol’ mama a hug. I hope he never outgrows it. I know I never will.

When in Rome . . .

The invasion started weeks before its actual arrival. Billboards and radio ads announced the dates throughout the city. Barnes & Noble had tables of books on display dedicated to the event. Snippets of conversation overheard among the mallrats included discussion centered on what rides to which they were most looking forward and whether or not the new “apple fries” would live up to their hype.

That’s right, folks, I’m talkin’ about the Iowa State Fair.

I’m telling you, for a week and a half the State Fair was all anyone around here was talking about. We Iowans take our State Fair very seriously. The Fair is in the middle of August in 90+ degree weather and 90-98% humidity. Yet, the waiting list for a campground at the State Fair: 10 years.

I learned that we painstakingly map out our route through the fairgrounds days in advance. Since I am a newcomer, my neighbor went out of her way to pay a visit to the house and show me which were the exhibits I could skip and which were Must See. Not to miss: Iowa Pork Producers’ Pork Chop on a Stick, the Hyvee Children’s Garden, Babies on the Farm exhibit, the Tunnel of Love (that’s right people, we have an actual Tunnel of Love), the Honeybee exhibit, and the Grand Champion Cow, Pig, and Lamb.

Truthfully, we had a great time.

Questions Frequently Asked by Others

Isn't it sweet how much he loves being kissed by his mama?

Q: How’s the new house?

A: Always messy, just like the old one. Except for this past weekend when we were entertaining 13 guests. While our cousins were here the house was cleaner than it has ever been. We have all been inspired and are more committed to picking up after ourselves.

Q: How long was the drive?

A: It takes us about 14 hours, but Bob’s brother managed to make it into a 20 hour trip. It must depend on the number of travelers in your vehicle and how many stops you have to make.

Q: How does Bob like his job?

A: He loves it! (As he bloody well better after 10 years of school. Hehe)

Q: How are the kids?

A: Better friends today than they were before we moved. I guess they figured if they are stuck being each other’s only friends for awhile, they had better learn to get along.

Q: Have you read Harry Potter yet?

A: Of course, who would have guessed that Lord Voldemort was Harry’s father?

Q: Do you miss us?

A: YES WE MISS YOU! So please come and visit us soon. Pretty please? Pretty please with sugar on top?

Slime and Snails

Scene: Creed and I are outside exploring our new yard. He has gathered specimens of foliage from the trees and bushes growing in our fertile soil. He picks through them, selects several of varying sizes and shapes, and promptly places them in his mouth, chews them up, and swallows them.

Me: (through the giggling) Ew! Yuck! Why did you do that? We have plenty of snacks in the house!

Him: (deadpan) What? I’m part snail.

25 Places Where My Keys Were Not Found

1. On the shelf where I usually leave them

2. In my purse

3. In the pocket of the pants I was wearing when I had them last

4. In the bags I carried in when I returned home from the last place I had driven. (Swimming in the local river with the kids, FYI)

5. On the counter next to the bags I carried in when I returned home from the last place I had driven

6. Under, around, or anywhere near the bags I carried in when I returned home from the last place I had driven

7. Next to Stella, who I had put down for a nap after a fun morning of swimming in the local river

8. On, in, or around the toilet or the bathroom sink

9. Next to the sandwich making supplies

10. By the washer and dryer

11. Mixed in with the towels we used at the river

12. Folded in with any of the clean laundry I did later that afternoon

13. The freezer

14. The refrigerator

15. The microwave

16. The silverware drawer

17. Under the couches

18. Under the couch cushions

19. In the casserole we had for dinner

20. In the garbage

21. In the ignition

22. On the garage floor

23. In my make-up bag

24. Inside any shoe in the entire house

25. The fireplace

Paint colors and other such nonsense

For Your Information: If a paint color has the word “gold” in its name, it’s probably going to be a little yellow.

When the nice gentleman at my local Home Depot handed me a gallon of “Champagne Gold” with a dab of sample paint on the lid, I looked at him and queried “is this the right color? It seems a little yellow.”

He looked at it and replied “You’re right, it does look more yellow here than it did on your card.” He then dabbed a little paint directly onto my card, blow dried it, and voila! It matched exactly. So, I bought my bucket of paint, drove it home, and now I have a charmingly yellow hallway.

Now for all you artists out there, what color do I paint my front room to go with my “Champagne Gold” hallway? From what I can tell, the complementary color for yellow is purple, and while I love purple, I think the combination of yellow hallway, purple front room, and bright red couches is a bit too much of an homage to my grandmother who ran away with the circus.

What to do what to do . . . apparently I need to make some friends.

We made it, we're busy

Just a quick update: We are here safe and sound. We have a house. We don’t quite live in it yet, though. The goal is to start unpacking Wednesday night which means we have to finish our floors by Wednesday morning or sooner.

No internet (all phone jacks are antiques) no kitchen sink (totally clogged, need a new disposal) no working oven (don’t ask) tons and tons of yard work in very fertile soil (Lola would be in heaven.) Nails and tacks and staples poking out of all the floors. The toilets DO flush. Half the windows WON’T stay open.

But it’s all OURS!!!!!!

In our yard we have seen: bunnies, chipmunks, squirrels, gophers, cardinals, red winged blackbirds, and . . . FIREFLIES!

Pictures of the fruits of all our hard work to be posted soon . . . we miss you all so much, but haven’t had much time to get lonely. We can pretty much pick the day for the baptism, so as soon as we know Robert’s schedule, we’ll pass it along.

Love to all and thanks for your notes, keep sending lots. Will reply to you individually soon . . .

Things I will remember about the day I left Utah

Beware: this blog entry contains an obscene number of sentence fragments. Read at your own risk.)

The rainstorm. Accidentally sleeping until 7:45. Standing up Doug and Sam for breakfast. Crying through family prayer. Driving away from my sister. Being asked to get my husband a cross between a bagel and a donut. The kids going nuts over the rocks for sale at the gas station. The sick feeling of not missing a very brave but very unlucky prairie dog. Jack’s subsequent question: “Did he make it?” Checking the number on every ABF trailer we pass to see if it’s ours. Teaching my kids how to play the alphabet game. Teaching my kids about D-Day.

The first thing Stella did when we arrived in the hotel at North Platte: Pick up the phone and pretend to tell Aunt Sara all about her day.

Great Story on the Local News

If you know us very well, you know that we try hard to keep our children from watching t.v. in the traditional sense. I have often said that it was less about the programs and more about the commercials. Don’t get me wrong, I love Disney, my kids watch dvds from “Little Einsteins” to “Spongebob Squarepants” and “Spiderman.” They have even seen “Lord of the Rings.” The catch is that I am in control of what they watch, and I’m not stuck arguing over whether or not they can have this toy or that toy because the child in the commercial for said toy was so happy to have it. So imagine how validated I felt when I saw this story on the local news last night:

“How Marketers Target Your Kids”

My favorite part was at the end, when she said

“And that may be what it all boils down to; parents must be advocates for their kids by shielding them from too much advertising and talking to them about the messages that are influencing them, perhaps for life.”

Of course, just the other day they were left to their own devices when they came with me to my friend’s house, and they went into the basement, turned on the television, and watched Cartoon Network for an hour.

We still have a long way to go.

With all our travel plans out of the way, we have started to tackle the project of packing. Yikes. Every time we have moved in the last ten years, I look around and ask myself “Where did we get all this stuff?” and “Do we really need it all?” This time is no different. It broke my heart to give away all the boys’ old clothes, but I did it. Lighten the load a little.

Cardboard and packing tape have become my new best friends, and the new scapegoat for my dry skin.

Happy Birthday to Me

I turned thirty on Saturday and spent the day with family and friends. My sister threw me a huge party that night and even bought a new dress for the occasion! (She is wearing it in the picture above. She’s the one in the middle.) Plus, on account of the big party Saturday night, both my folks and my brothers were in town. What fun! On Sunday, we celebrated my grandpa’s birthday. The older I get, the more I love my grandpa. I just like spending time with him. Today Jack had the pins removed from his femur and took it like a champ. Next weekend promises to be just as fun with a trip to visit Con, Di, Marley, and Mickey.

Happenings

Today I:

Had lunch with most of my aunties, a few of my uncles, my mother, my sister, and my grandfather plus my daughter. Four generations of Danes. I love spending time with people who have known me all my life. My family are the people who love me in spite of my (many) faults and hold a magnifying glass up to my strengths.

Last night, in an attempt to conform to the popular perception of beauty, I:

Rubbed tan-in-a-can all over my pale arms and legs. I fell asleep to the enticing aroma of cardboard mixed with corn chips and I woke up to striped arms and white spots on my ankles. Is this an example of the universal struggle between man and nature? No matter what I do, I will never be a tan girl. I have red hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. Period. You win, Mother Nature. If my husband were attracted to exotic beauties, he would have married a girl that looks just like his sisters. Besides, in the Philippines, I AM the exotic one.

Coming up:

Wedding on Saturday. Jack’s surgery on Monday. Leave for HB on Friday. I guess I better start packing up the house some time because we are moving across several states the first week of June. Oh, and if I plan on taking any boxes with us, I had better reserve a truck. The kids have a piano recital in May. Squeeze in as much time as I can with the people I love in the next few weeks, since before I know it, it will be a fourteen hour drive to see any of them.

Right now:

My mother made dinner, and as I type she is sitting with my kids eating. I am going to join them. Ta Ta.

World's Greatest Sister

You have been my best friend for twenty-eight years. We have the experience of a shared childhood getting dirty, fighting over clothes, and hiding in the bathroom arming ourselves with cans of hairspray against imaginary foes. We were each others’ nursemaids, wardrobe consultants, beauty advisors and video libraries. We have exchanged shouts of laughter and dodged flying objects amid angry yells. We were beacons to each other when life was at its darkest. You are the beautiful, adventurous, outstanding auntie who loves her niece and nephews as though they were your own. For seven years, they haven’t had to share your affection or attention with anyone. You were all theirs. We have had you to ourselves long enough. And it’s time they got a new uncle. Happy wedding in just 6 days!

Off to Iowa!!! (Only for a few days)

We are just getting ready to make the long drive to Iowa. So strange for us to be looking for a place to live in a new city where we don’t know a soul. Thank goodness for great siblings: Sara, Scott, Karen & Paul! Kisses to the kids, we’ll see you in a few days!