GAWD.

I don't mind the heat when there is a/c to provide respite. But even in the shade today, it is HAWT, and yup we don't have a/c.

The upper readout it the temperature outside, in a shade grove. The lower temp is is registering our INSIDE temperature.

Crescent Creek

Is this a little blonde boy?

OH MY GAWD

My Aunt Barbara just sent me
FIVE POUNDS
of Starbucks coffee for my birthday.

Yay me! Yay her! Yay Yay Yay!

Thanks Barbara!!!!!!!!!!!




Now here's how my mind works:

She just saved us coffee purchasing for about 6 weeks. Just ONE week of coffee for us is about 10-12 dollars. My espresso maker that died (ok, that was brutally murdered) has a replacement value of about 25.00. One of the bags of coffee is true espresso roast.

Oh the temptation. You lurky-loo people need to vote. Tell me to do it!!!!! Or to continue to allow natural attrition to take it's course in our home. I don't NEED an espresso maker after all, right?

If he's not fixed, you're not done

Cambriolina came by today for a bit with her four, amazing, friendly children. We enjoyed their company immensely. We had black bean soup for lunch (immersion blender!) and strawberry shortcake for dessert. Cam brought the strawberries and whipped cream, but we decided to have dessert first, prepared by the little girls.

After meeting, H and G only surfaced from time to time to eat strawberries or to show us a shell. Moms serve no purpose when 6 year old girls are together. I could not believe the resemblance between GirlPants and the newest Camlet. Yes, I took pix of that too.

We hiked down to the beach and watched the kids explore. The landslide is back in good form, so the kids got ultra grubby. We got sucked into the time warp and didn't come back up the hill until 5 pm. YIKES.


Today's title is brought to you by Cambriolina, commenting on the spacing of my kids. Happy to be done, I mentioned that feeling, and she said "If he's not fixed, you're not done!" Incidentally kind friends, Cambriolina is the woman who brought me, and therfore all of you RT friends, the zesty word Fucktard.

I did take pix. I suppose I COULD share babyness with the world. What do you think, Cam?

Poor Bill the crab bit it today as well, a fact that came to our attention shortly before the strawberry fest. G said "Mommy I am worried about Bill, he stinks." NOT GOOD WORDS when you're describing shellfish. Indeed, despite happily crawling about yesterday, Bill slid unhappily from his shell. I told her he may be sick, but we would let him rest in the window while we went about our day. On the phone, P voted down a swaparoo, so I let her know the bad news after everyone had left.

That evening, we let her know and she buried him in the corner she had already set aside as a Shadow-the-poodle memorial site. She said it made her feel better to know that Bill was playing in heaven. Now she wants to replace him with a new crab, already named "marble." Given that she did everything she was supposed to on a daily basis and took excellent care of Bill, we are going to do it. I think the sun is what did him in (P-daddy thought having him outside with us in the sunshine would make him happy) so no more heat of the day for hermit crabs.

Day Out With Thomas

When the house is clean I feel wealthy

Ability is a poor man's wealth.
John Wooden

I've been on a two day push to get things beyond acceptable. We all know acceptable. And with three children under 6, one of whom is 18 mos old, and a homeschool room? Fuhggeddaboutit.

Still, I have pushed. The laundry is done. I saw the bottom of several hampers before the end of the day. Not just the clothes; the bedding is clean and fresh on all bed. The napkins and dish towels all clean and put away.

The newly repaired vacuum is back to it's formerly raging self. I had forgotten how good this vacuum was until we got it back. It has been less than par for some time now. Now, it propels itself along quite nicely. Insta-clean! WooT! Every room.

I scrubbed the bathrooms. I cleaned the pets and their bedding.

The schoolroom office is somewhat disheveled, but I can forgive myself because every other room is not just picked up, it's clean.

I suspect this will last about two days, but if I continue on my rave I will get it back to motivated-moms-maneagable. I have enlisted the children, given them new family chores and they're not resisting too much. I was not a raving lunatic when I assigned them so I am sure that had something to do with it. Food! I still fed them, and actually washed the dishes immediately after!

I feel wealthy because I am not tripping over things. I don't have mystery odors. The carpet (albeit stained) feels lush beneath our toes. In my single and professional lives, I was no stranger to resorts, and one thing I got to know real quick was that beauty was the facade. Gorgeous acreage, spectacular views and beautiful architecture, all yes! Bathrooms? Still grouted. Carpets? Still just... carpet. The difference for me between being home or being in a resort is that I don't have to clean.

So when things are so clean at the start of the day that I don't feel pressure, I feel wealthy.

As tempting as pizza

Today we decided to go to Staples to take advantage of their one-cent loss-leader sale. Amazingly I did not get sucked into buying all the other luscious things they had available (an office supply store is usually as tempting as pizza to me), but we did spend about 6.00. Shameful. Nikirj got out of there for .39, I think.

Upon leaving the parking lot, we decided to go awaaaaaaaaay from home. It was one of theose beautiful fog-on-the-mountains days, so we decided to go towards them instead of away. The children and I were of one accord and wound up in Poulsbo for lunch, eating pizza at Central Market. So close to Bainbridge Island, we (ok this was *I*) decided I must have a latte on Bainbridge Island. I'd never been, and that's just a necessary part of the northwest experience, n'est ce pas? Of all the days NOT to remember the camera.

On the way there, however, we passed through the Res, and that always gets the babies in a lather. We stopped at the Suquamish Indian Tribe Center and Museum, which is excellent. What impressed me immediately was that unlike all the other reservation centers I have seen out here, this tribe actually USES their space.... they still behave as a tribe. This place was THRIVING. In the one complex, they had the geoduck seafood company, the tribal elders lodge, the rec center, the day care and the museum. They had some kind of something going on because we had to circle several times before finally inventing a parking space. The kids' heads kept bobbing as we passed the gigantic totem pole again and again.

N & G loved the museum but the baby of course, just enjoyed being able to flap around on his little bare feet. As he ran back and forth slapslapslapslap on the hardwood floors, G learned about Old Man House and Chief Seattle. She LOVED the exhibits and recognized many of her own beach treasures in the dioramas. She learned how they lived, what they ate, the whole nine. She especially loved seeing the basket of little dolls the children played with. When we left, she wanted to go see the Old Man House, so we went to the site (where D again ran about, this time stripping to the t shirt as he went giggle-shrieking in circles) and watched someone flying a kite on the Agate passage. This site was occupied as the heart of their community for over two thousand years. From there we went to Chief Sealth's grave.

That was an amazing moment for me, personally. G marveled over being in "an indian graveyard" while I freaked inside about finally seeing Chief Sealth's grave. In college, my minor concentration was Native American studies, but never did I think I'd actually be able to be there and it was powerful for me. I loved especially how well the tribe today has kept the grave as native as possible. In a Christian burial ground, Chief Sealth's headstone is a white headstone with a cross on it. The tribe has built a large structure over it, resembling the frame of a long house painted with black and red designs reminiscent of their canoes. It's freshly painted, which I think is wonderful. They're keeping hold of their heritage, which is hard to do in a culture like ours.

On the way home G drew a picture of the Old Man Long House, taken from her memory of studying the line drawings in the museum. I need to scan it so it looks better but here is a snapshot:


PS.... We never crossed the bridge. So we still haven't been to Bainbridge Island!

Welcome to the WNT

Today we did some heavy arts and crafts. We took the clock children out of the clock and the children painted numbers to take their place. G designed the diamond centerpiece, and of course I think it is lovely.

We purchased a Plaster Caster at Grocery Outlet for 4.95. Our box is identical in photography and content, but was packaged as a Discovery Kids product instead of Alex. So we got 40.00 off. (Corporate America is just wasteful!) I think this is going to be one of the best purchases EVER. The kids LOVE LOVE to paint pottery, but just the studio fee for the two of them is more than that! N made a car, G made a star and pottery painting at home is a GO GO GO. Nikirj gave us a vatload of cast-off sculptor's clay so I am hoping we will be able to use that in this machine. This is gonna be cool.


I did it! I made supper, kissed my family and went for a powerwalk. I will see how I feel tomorrow, but right now I am feeling pretty enervated. I think I overdid it, but it was cool. The loop I was on took me through this neighborhood and the two next to ours, down to the beach where I slowed it down and collected some fireworks litter, and then back up the hill to home. All the ridges have wonderful views of Henderson Bay and Mt. Rainier.

I was surprised to see how active everything was too. I think that's a real highlight of life here; after dinner people still go back outside and do things. They walk or chat with neighbors, or like some families I saw, head back down to the beach. This was so cool, too: at the mouth of the richest neighborhood's trail down to the beach, a Mom was letting out a vat load of teenagers. They followed me down to the water with strict instructions from Mom to meet them at the gate by 10PM. They lit a bonfire and spent the evening on the beach.

How

cool

is

that???

I so hope we get to stay, and raise our kids here.

SwimSwamSwum

Today was a birthday party for our friend's daughter. She's turning 6 this week and had a pool party. The house reminded me HARD of our house in Guerry when we moved in there; there was a pool in the backyard, and a separate pool house out back, with the man-world within, including a bathroom and a wetbar. Man it made me sort of homesick... but not really. We never "blinged out" our Jake room like these guys did (It was finished, and furnished with a biliiards table and leather furniture. Unlike our Jake room, they had a woodstove, not an a/c unit) and we took down the pool without ever using it.

The birthday girl was FUNNY. She's hearing impaired, about 50 percent deaf. With the waterworks and ringing voices of so many children she was, as her Mom put it, "deaf as a doorknob." She had a blast, just swimming and leaping and smiling at everyone. She was the perfect birthday girl.

G had some issues. I was lucky enough to leave the boys home with P-Daddy, but we left L'il Bit's noodle by the front door. When we first got there, all the kiddies were willing to share nicely, but towards the end there was kicking and pushing for the available pool floaties. It felt like G was the only one who couldn't swim, even to me, so for her it had to be terrible. She hasn't been in a real pool since the one time early last year in Federal Way, and her swimlessons were the year before that.

She played, "swam," splashed and even came down the giant slide, but she has a very specific stark terror of submerging her face. She feels like she will inhale, even though everyone else knows to hold their breathe. She is sure that she will not be able to do that. Hopefully we will be able to get her into swim classes next month as planned. I want her to get past this, and not carry this fear into teenage years as I did.

So about that plate of fava beans....

The fava bean looks scary. It's true. It's gigantic, misshapen and a mottled green with brown splotches. It's not a pretty vegetable, like a tomato or a summer squash. It's not a uniform pod veggie, like a sweet pea or a green bean. It's more like a sweet pea urgently hissing "Don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

I probably wouldn't choose to buy a fava bean, but given that we get them through our CSA, FarmerT has to date provided my family with 4 POUNDS of fava beans. ~L~ is not about to waste some veggies.

We had friends come over on Saturday and that seemed like a good opportunity to offload some fava bean action. Fava beans are also difficult in another way: you don't shell them once, you shell them TWICE. There is the huge, ugly outer layer, which you snap off. Within spongy, perfect for mailing packages foam stuff you discover perfectly smooth, bright, huge green beans. Think Jack and the beanstalk beans. These are the beans that you blanche and then shell again to get to the smaller lima-bean shaped bean that smells much like wet dog.

Anyway, the original scary veggie is huge and pretty fun to shell. If you're say, four years old, it's like cracking open a green banana and digging for treasure. What started as Mommies shelling beans turned into a full out bean-snapping party. It was fun for all of us!
Many hands do make light work, and it was nice for the children to receive instant gratification for their work...not that they ate any of the four POUNDS.

I have to admit, it was enormously complicated to produce a dish that despite garlic, bacon, onions and chicken stock, still smelled like wet dog and tasted like lima beans.

Nastiness

Nastiness is



discovering your 18 month old munching on a carrot.....



that he pulled out of the compost pile.

Riley is with his Dad

That part makes me rant less. I wanted this baby (a BABY, PEOPLE!!!!!!!) with someone who loves him as he deserves to be loved. There was no way to maximize that child's health and recovery while he is away from the people who provide him home, in every sense of it. At least this Dad likes Carlsen, and perhaps this is a firt step in returning that child home.



I got this cowardly, well-timed response from the Governor's Office minutes after the verdict was publicized. I wanted "investigation" to be a word in this letter. Jibberish.

Thank you for writing to Governor Gregoire about Riley Rogers, the 9-month old who has now had the surgical procedure necessary for him to be treated for his kidney condition.

As a mother, herself, the Governor can appreciate how difficult these past weeks must have been, not only for Riley's family but also for the physicians who felt there was no alternative but to seek court intervention in this case.

There are no easy answers in sensitive medical cases, like this one, that involve conflicting views about treatment. The hospital and the mother are both considering the child's best interests. This case ended up in the court system because current law prevents a physician from overriding a parent's decision. It is unfortunate that this private, personal matter could not have been resolved in some other way - the Governor can imagine that the decisions made by both sides were very difficult.

Governor Gregoire thanks you for contacting her.

Angela M. Gregg
Governor's Staff
Christine O. Gregoire
Governor

When adults fall down

Coming from the family of origin that I do, controversy and conflict don't scare me much. My worst fear regarding my interactions with my friends is that I will defend myself too well or too early against slights imaginary or intended, and as a consequence that I will hurt their feelings. I can see almost every side to any conflict, and I assume the best intent in my friend. While I may heartedly disagree with their perspective, I still see it and allow that perception to sway me away from confrontation even when I should probably call them out on something inappropriate.

I know I can protect myself, I just don't want to hurt anyone else in the process.

Ironically, as a result I tend to let things go too long or too far. I take too much. When I finally decide I have had enough, I just let it fade ... and the person is left behind. No muss, no fuss, just a gentle grief.

I hate that.

I don't want to experience that with my friends. The whole concept of "outgrowing friends" disgusts me, even while I see how it can be true in some situations.

I have two women right now with whom I am facing that dilemma. One loves me far less than I love her, and the other wants more of me than I can share. One relationship transitioned badly from online friend to real time friend, while the other is in a weird sort of stall while my friend transitions wildly from one station in her life to the next. In the first circumstance, my friend could not give me any latitude for processing the enormous changes on my own life. She wanted what she wanted and didn't care to hear from me what I needed, or the pain in my body that would keep me from the experiences I would love to have shared with her. In the second, I find myself on the other side of the fence. I want to be sensitive to this person, but I find myself being the impatient one.

I miss the little losses of shared time, humor, experiences. I still look at both of them and see the shining examples of goodness and intelligence and humor within the flawed human beings that we all are. I mourn the absence of the sense of intimacy that lets you speak your mind or share a difficult truth without fear of over-reaction or petty reprisals. And if I can't have that now, well yes it is indeed "my loss," but I suppose I am not alone in that arena, because I have a lot to offer too.

I feel frustrated: aren't adults supposed to be beyond this?????? I have incredible friends in my life who have been steadfast for years. It doesn't have to be this way.

The Rocket's Glare

The air was thick with smoke as we climbed the hill. The trees crowding around us could shield us from some of the light but none of the noise of the explosions all around us. Aside from the spattering of light coming from the trees, the path and it's precipitous drop off were completely shrouded in inky darkness.

"I need my head light!" came a small voice, accompanied by a scratchy little series of clicks. A stream of incandescent blue light shot ahead of us, lighting the gravel incline. N had turned on his flashlight headgear, followed shortly by his mom and dad's. G, taking point, lit her yellow flashlight. Always first, always yellow. We climbed up from the beach and then loaded G&N in the red wagon and D in the stroller and made our way back home.

We'd been part of our community, truly our local community. Down at the beach, many people from our neighborhood shot off huge amounts of beautiful fireworks, lit bonfires, sat around drinking coffee (that cracked me up on the 4th of July!) or wine and enjoyed the show. We sat our blanket next to our next door neighbors and the moms bantered about who was going swimming while the girls, long hair flowing, danced around with sparklers. The little boys stayed close to blanket while the Dads [erg grunt me-man] built our bonfire and shot off enormous, brilliant fireworks. This tableau was repeated beach after beach all around the Bay. From Purdy to Kopachuk to Home to Anderson and Fox Islands, we could see the sparkle of fireworks. At 9.30 someone on the GH side put on a BIG show, one apparently this family does every year. Over the ridge you could see Tacoma's big guns in the background. It was very exciting, and definitely very convenient. We've hiked longer every 4th of July at Folly Beach just to get to our car, then faced the 35 minute drive home in traffic all the way.

Earlier that morning, I made an oatmeal-pancake breakfast with Bacon. G was stunned to see cream whipped into "homemade whipped cream!!!!!!!!!!!!" which we served with raspberries. We used the cobalt glass dishes, so it was a nice festive 4th breakfast.

We went out to the farm to pick up our share, then picked up some sparklers of our own on the way home. At the farm, the kids planted a couple of rows of corn in the children's garden and picked three pints of strawberries. They ate their strawberries while we sat out near (not next to, by any means) the beehives, watching them zoom to and fro. It was nice to have P-daddy with us, seeing the what exactly "picking up our share" entails. Farmer T really opens it all up.

In retrospect, as fatigued as we were, it was a glorious, idyllic summer's day.

Happy Cake

Happiness is a husband who wants to spend his day off hanging with the fam... and who bakes the kiddies a cake for the holiday after they've gone to bed.

He be sweet.

Weekend Mode

Yesterday I donned the chef uniform again for the first time in nearly two years, and went back to work. 7 hours and some owchie feet later, I came home to my family. Everyone was in the back yard, so I unloaded while I listened to the kids play and P-Daddy talk his manly gruntspeak with his friend Schnayboy while they grilled BBQ ribs. How summer-Saturday is that? Schnaygirl came over to join her honey and their Schnaybaby and brought her boss potato salad. One of the best parts? I did nothing. The men planned it themselves. MAJOR progress, there, chicas-who-read-this.

Today I was uncharacteristically not-game-for-anything. Nothing. It's 2.41 and I am in public-appropriate PJs, but PJs nonetheless. I just wanted to hang around with the family. No plans, no schedule, no planned activities, nuffin.

N got a hairtrim this morning and is now next door playing with their boy. Their girl is over here, coloring with G. The girls and I have already spent some time together playing alphabet bingo and CHESS! Neighborgirl, at age 7 plays a proud game of chess. Talkabout nerdy Lory happiness. My girl? Playing chess with her friend? On purpose? Liking it?! AHHHHHHHH.

Loving it!

Ken Schram? On my blog?

Ken Schram has never been a favorite of mine due to his outspoken, obnoxious and incorrect remarks about nursing in public. But this week instead of ranting about the Victoria's Secret Nurse in, he chose to speak about the Carlsen-Rogers case.


This is my response to him:

Thank you very much for writing about Tina Carlsen and Riley Rogers. Regardless of what led Carlsen to disagree with the physicians treating her son and whatever other treatments she had in mind, the fact that they lied to DSHS, law enforcement agencies and the media makes this a scary story. When a medical body pledged to "first, do no harm" promotes false information to use other public service agencies to bludgeon a family into compliance, that medical body needs to be held to close scrutiny.

Many families in this region are waiting with bated breath to see what comes to light in this case. Are they capable of stealing our children, too? I appreciate you bringing this into a wider public forum, as these questions must be addressed.

No Amber Alert issued when you've an MD

Many of you chose to birth at home with a midwife because you wanted to make your own decisions regarding your child's healthcare. Many of you went on to make decisions regarding immunizations and other health issues outside of what the culture of medicine would want for your child.
Riley's mother is trying to do the same thing you were doing. She has done good research to make an informed choice. She has tried to communicate and cooperate with the physicians who have been caring for Riley. In a last resort desperate action she chose to take Riley from the custody of the hospital to protect him from the surgery that she could not agree with.
A group of women have come together to provide Riley's mother, Tina with the support she needs to continue to exert her rights as a parent, to make the decisions she feel is best for her baby.

Tina Carlsen, Riley Roger's mother, was on the Dave Ross show this morning on Kiro 710, while her baby was being cut open at Seattle Children's. She describes being apprehended in Yelm.... "Get down or I will f*(ing blow a hole in your head." is what the police shouted at her four times. I was a caller on the show, and I heard her voice through my phone. I don't think this is something I am ever going to forget.

After his birth, Carlsen was given three weeks to enjoy her newborn before he surely would die. Instead, she has worked tirelessly to make sure her son would live, and now he is thriving in spite of his kidneys. She has investigated treatments, standards of care and has worked with her son's drs to determine the best course of action for her son. They disagreed about the necessity of surgery that would allow them to quickly do dialysis on the baby should it come to that. When Carlsen chose not to have the surgery performed on her son, they called CPS on her and said she was endangering his life.

Now this baby is under the knife for a surgery his parents don't want for him. A surgery after which he will get to be with his mother only TWO HOURS, and that after a Tacoma judge interceded and ordered it. How can these assholes justify that? This is a baby who nurses... he's only 9 months old!

It is now all coming out in the wash... the Amber Alert was wrong.
If you follow the links in progression, it shows more and more over time how they all over-reacted, and are starting to say so. The surgery is not to save his life, but to implement a "standard of care," a nice way of saying plug-and-play medicine. If this is your illness, then you get x, y and z done to you regardless of whether it's evidence-based or exactly appropriate to your situation.

At this time Carlsen has been released, and now they are deciding whether to drop the kidnapping charges. Who lied? Who said that the surgery was life saving? Who told CPS, the Press, the highway patrol, that the child would die because his mother "kidnapped" him. She is 34. I am 35. They stole her child. They can steal mine.

This is one ring into which I am definitely tossing my hat. You can't be a mother for long and not know people who have children with serious issues. Cancer, mental challenges, failure to thrive, anything. What happens when you disagree with your provider and that provider is one of the physicians who thinks Father Knows Best? What happens when you finally decide "that's enough chemo, enough feeding tubes, enough torture."

Most parents love their children to desperation. Most people who decide "thanks, but no thanks" to the places like children's hospital are doing so because they can provide better care for their children. This institution ran a smear campaign against this woman and literally took her nursling from her at gunpoint. They then kept him secreted away from not only Mom, but Dad, grandparents, everyone he knew and loved, playing the media and the law enforcement agencies as patsies along the way.

I thought in Washington, we'd be safe from shit like this.

I called into the radio show and I have written the Governor's office. I will be writing the newspapers and contacting Cantwell, as well.

oh yeah baby

Wow. Wow. Wow.

Some things need no further comment from me.

Farmin

So the kids and I didn't seem to want to leave our house today, because it was just not hot as hell inside. I even tried to get out of going to the farm, but when I called him P-Daddy was still in Seattle and didn't think he could make pickup on time.

I will type that again... sigh... P-Daddy was in Seattle. We (well 4/5 of us) love Seattle. It was either that or Northwest Glory Harbor for our domicile, and since the wage-earning 1/5 of us despises urban living, here we are! That, and the nasty ass commute. I totally support living where we do but alas I love Seattle. But I digress.

So the farm; well it was still hot as hell OUTSIDE so the farm was toasty when we got there at 3.30. I piled the share into the laundry hamper and the kids scampered about like the little rabbits they are. Farmer T is really into kids so it is nice, to be able to go to a place where the kids are welcomed and encouraged to explore. While I helped install paths in the children's garden, G made potato prints and communed with the adolescent chickens and D went belly-swimming in the freshly turned field. The soil there is like baby powder. I don't know why I think I can ever just go there and come home, much less clean.

As I was thinking we were making our break for it, G asked Farmer T if she could "go pick a strawberry to eat." Farmer T responded by handing her a pint box and telling her to have fun. When N, coming back from his potato stamping, saw G's box then he wanted to go pick. So we spent another 30 minutes in the fields (and yes it was hot as hell.)

Still, that's really cool. This CSA is valuable to us on so many different levels, and the educational benefits for the kids are just huge. They're going to a farm and getting the experiential learning, but they have the added benefit of doing this over time. They've seen the chickens sitting on their eggs, and they've fed them and watched them grow from the moment they hatched. They watch the bees soar to the berries and back to the hive again, and they sweeten their tea and oats with that honey. They've seen the hoophouses nurture seedlings and haybale mazes, and they've seen those same hoophouses topple in a winter storm. They've seen the fields flood, but they've seen how the farm rebounds from disasters such as those. They're watching their mother and her adult friends volunteer. They're learning life cycles, which is what one would expect, but they're also being versed in community and resiliency.

In unrelated news, I washed one of the school mats with a load of children's clothes. The mat was a red woven fabric... with a very strong dye. For the first time in my life I dyed an entire load of clothes hot pink. Sigh. I washed them again, I soaked them in oxiclean. This is very effective dye. Nicholas is going to have pink underwear for a while, until I get some blue dye to make them all purple.

The hot as hell day

We started it at the beach, since hey that's what you do on glorious days. It was a -2.8 low tide at noon, which yields a lot of tidal pools. This one trip will generate a webpage of its own, but I had to post some pics here.

We live on geoduck central, and after exploring all the other life we could see (shrimp, three kinds of starfish, fish that hide in holes, mating dungeness crab, flounder, it goes on an on), we played find the geoduck. There are literally hundreds of them down there!

uhhhhhhh

I really don't have much more to add to that at this time. ~A~ is probably damn dying up there, because we are hot as hell. I was enjoying myself earlier in the day-- it was AWESOME. I experienced the first balmy breezes I've felt since moving here, and pretty much lolled in that down on the beach. (great pix from that later when it's not 87 degrees in the house)

Yet the mercury continues to climb, and our peak heat happens at about 5 PM. Remember... people don't have AC here. Not even window units, usually... and our windows won't FIT window units.

I bet the mall is gonna be PACKED later.

Happy Birthday to me

It's that day again. Every year this day just ...ugh. I dont' mind about getting older really. Not in an annual fashion anyway. I just don't like the sag. This sag where I look like me, but droopy. The weight I can lose, so even that doesn't truly bother me. It's my face. I like laugh lines; the skin...heading South....the corner of my eye being imperceptibly lower than it used to be. That bothers me.

I keep waiting for the time in my life when I will finally be thin, finally be straight-teethed, finally be beautiful. Um, whoops. I am thirty five. Better jump on that project, yah?

In related news, today already beats the pants off of the infamous two-people-remembered-my-birthday-but-only-after-3PM year of 2004 (my wonderful Grandmother and my friend Danny--hmmm who does that leave out???) N the blueberry has in fact informed P-daddy that he will be taking care of Momma today. G gave me several pieces of art, including a knotted, beaded necklace which of course, I will sport all day. I am going to give myself a spa morning, where I dye my hair and maybe even shave because God has in fact given me an additional gift as well; it's forecast to be about 77 degrees today, which will seem like heaven to me!


I linked to another blog because it is just that funny. I love her joke here about comments, and sometimes I feel just that way. I get an awful lot of traffic for no one saying anything.

Um. Have you met me?

Freudian Inventory Results

Oral (66%) you appear to be overly passive and dependent, wanting things to be given to you instead of working for them. Anal (40%) you appear to have a good balance of self control and spontaneity, order and chaos, variety and selectivity. Phallic (60%) you appear to have a good balance of sexual awareness and sexual composure. Latency (43%) you appear to have a good balance of abstract knowledge seeking and practicality, dealing with real world responsibilities while still cultivating your abstract and creative faculties and interests. Genital (60%) you appear to be somewhere between a progressive/openminded and regressive/closeminded outlook on life.

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I would have to say I agree with the oral fixation, but the whole depending on other people is laughable. It's something I struggle with every day, trying actively to depend on others and "share the load." It seems tidier to just do it all myself.

Meet Elvis

Yes, it keeps on getting better.

Now we have Elvis, the Guinea Pig. No we did not name him that. Yes, we really did get a guinea pig off Freecycle. No I have not lost my mind. Yes, P-Daddy is out of town. No, he doesn't know. Yes, Elvis will live in the schoolroom.

But hey, we get to have children who say I love Elvis and mean it. That should make P-Daddy happy.

Meet Bill

G got a fiddler crab from the beach and named him Crabbo. G loved Crabbo enough that his name made it onto P-Daddy's father's day card. Well, Crabbo didn't so much enjoy being housed with us, so I convinced G to let him free to make his way back down to the beach. G obliged, because she really is an "animal rescuer!" at heart, but that same heart was broken.

Sobbing into the phone with P-Daddy, she asked "Can we get me a hermit crab????? One that can live with us???"

Let's see. Sobbing Baby Girl. On phone with P-Daddy, which means...distance....inability to hug. Instant "yes, of course honey."

So while the little boys and I shopped for new shoes ("these make me run FAST, Mommy!!!!!" and "choooooooooochooooooooooooooo shooooooooooooooes! choooo chooooooo shoooooooes!" ) P-Daddy took the G to the Petco and bought Bill. You can see Bill's home linked above.

G chose the name, and I have no idea where it came from. But Bill seems to like G, so all is well.

Rest in peace, Crabbo!

Twelve Senses, Seven Arts

This ideal really spoke to me. We're so art heavy here, and I am excited to find a way that makes sense to me to punch it through into the other disciplines.

This is really turning into a homeschool blog isn't it? Well, if that is the case then here follows some more homeschool items under consideration.

There is a program called WAVA out of the Steilacoom school district which throws a bone at people like me. I don't HATE public school, per se, but I do really believe in my core that it wastes enormous amounts of time and squashes creativity and individual thinking in a morass of invented rules. K12 is a respected homeschooling curriculum available for purchase. Like many other states, WA has now licensed it for use as a virtual curriculum through the school district. The financial deal is that we don't have to pay for anything (k12 is expensive) and the children are enrolled officially in a public school district. They count G on their books, but I do all the teaching and get a curriculum I might like anyway for free.

One of the things that gives me pause is that unlike a traditional k12 curriculum, G would be taking "assessments." She would be in contact with a teacher from the district who will "help us" with our progress. WAVA participants also must participate in the pile of horseshit known as the WASL, and I kind of groove on the idea of having an invisble child or two. G is not known to the state yet, as kids here do not have to report to school until they are 8, and if I enroll her now I will have to file the homeschool letter of intent every year should I choose to not continue with WAVA.

The meeting is on Saturday at a museum in Tacoma. I am very much looking forward to it. (Then after that.........we get to go to a program hosted by Wolf Haven International at our local library. Obviously, I am a big fan of wolves, but G has shown some interest in them as a result of it.)

The other consideration is a GH homeschool organization also administered through the public school district, which allows for a much more liberal relationship between home and brick and mortar school. It seems pretty active and if you look at their yearbook for this year, G's age group has a significant amount of kids for a community this size. This is extremely appealing to me. Local, local, local. There is no secret about my grand affection for Pugetopolis at large, but when it comes to day in and day out, I'd rather engage here at the municipal level rather than go over to Tacoma, for example and participate in their (extremely well-organized and dynamic) homeschool HUB. We mindfully chose to live here, and I'd like to surround ourselves with other people who made the same decisions for themselves and their children.

Having said that, Kitsap county (adjacent to us) also has some really good offerings for the homeschooler, the most attractive to us being in the arena of music. They even have organized choirs for the children.

We also watched the Search for the Atocha, so that G could see where her coin came from. The documentary was a nice launchpad for discussion of hurricanes, shipping traditions, international trade then and now, and what constitutes "treasure." What do people value? We compared the Atocha to the wooden boats the kids had boarded at the maritime gig festival, and we learned that G now wants to have all the treasure off the Atocha. Failing that, she says she will just have to find treasure all her own. She says she has a lot to do when she is a grown up.

Oh cool!

Nut and dairy free blogger. Anyone who links to sunbutter as much as I do is ok in my book!

From ChicknGirl

(leave your name and...)

1. I'll respond with something random about you
2. I'll challenge you to try something
3. I'll pick a colour that I associate with you
4. I'll tell you something I like about you
5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of
7. I'll ask you something I've always wanted to ask you
8. if i do this for you you must post it in your journal


So this is for Emily:

1. You're one of the few people who managed to verbally shock me: I don't want to fuck it! I want to knit it!!!
2. I challenge you to find a friend to watch the kidlets while you get to the Stitch N Bitch in GH.
3. Green
4. Your velvety voice and generous laugh
5. Getting out of your car and laugh-shouting at me "Your directions suck!"
6. A Rabbit
7. OMFG WHERE ARE YOU GOING TO MOVE??? YOU HAVE TO TELL ME. YOU MUST. DO IT. I KNOW YOU READ THIS. TELL ME. DO IT. DOOOOOOOOO EEEEEEET.
8. You already did it, so hey! :p


For Tera:

1. Damn woman, how grateful am I that you explained the one broken pinto bean effect.
2. I challenge you to pack one room a day this week down to the kids-are-at-boarding-school level.
3. Terra cotta orange, for so many reasons
4. What's NOT to like. I admire your fearless and compassionate nature.
5. On our May 2002 I-Pillage EC. You are and I were the leading contenders in the actually-LOSING-weight-while-pregnant class.
6. Smokey the Bear
7. Would you really ever consider moving here if thingbop gotta job?
8. Post it in your journal

Programming the Organic Computer

Yesterday we went into Tacoma and had a nice, family, way-unschooling day. It was reminiscent of our "Thursdays" when we first began homeschooling. We began the day with breakfast, the kids played together while I cleaned up around the house, and then I cleaned out the van (which I habitually do on a weekly basis now, yay me!). When I went outside, so did they.

The following vignet is an example of how unschooling works, and why it is so cool. I am not a Radical Unschooler, but I fully understand the concept.

While I was cleaning out the car, N offered to help and pulled out his Gandalf staff from the back of the car. [insert link tomemorial day here] The kids decided that instead of the staff, they'd like to make another bird feeder (this will make our 8th feeder this spring).

I did nothing. I contributed little but encouragement while the two older children found supplies, fended off D, devised a plan and created their little bird stand. They staked their yard art and happily completed a project that required initiative, imagination, engineering and an understanding of animal behaviour. More experienced homechool Moms could probably add in a few more categories there, but I was happy with it. And this was just the 30 minute block of time before we left for our homeschool enrichment day out!

After that, we filled the rest of the feeders and made our way into Tacoma. We had a picnic lunch in the park next to the market, sucking down honey sticks and listening to some way-out-there, new-age harpist named Destyne singing for the entire time about living for today. Every song was about living in the now. She's obviously a big fan of living for today. Cause. She said it a lot. The kids soaked up the atmosphere but barely tolerated a picnic, as they knew we were really there for the free-Thursdays children's museum.

I set the kids loose in there and looked forward to some down time. The Tacoma Children's museum, while competent and visually appeallng, is probably the smallest children's museum I have ever seen. It is in effect one long shoebox with dividers for the discrete areas You can see the length of it and pretty much hear that far too. A few of the exhibits really rock and the kids love it, which is what matters. The part I like about it is that it's in the same building as my dh's job and there is only one way in and out.

Given this setup, I was confident I didn't need to hover to supervise the big kids, and I thought D would wander nicely on his own. Welllllllllllll.... almost. I did end up having to follow him around, and I did enjooy playing with him, but I was disappointed. I had brought skirezort's blanket to work, but I only got maybe 15 stitches in.

Frankly, this is what shames me: I was annoyed that I had to play with my son.

Other mothers were engaging their kids. Once upon a time I would not have even considered trying to shed a 17 month old. I saw the other mothers and they reminded me of well, ME before I had three. D has been a sweet, loving child but comparatively high maintenance when you consider his sleep issues. While he sleeps through the night now, he does it in our bed. At 17 mos, I am still nursing him to start the day at 5.30 am. If I am lucky, he'll go back to sleep, but that's a crap shoot.

It's obviously not D's fault that I am not engaged with my children the way I'd like to be; life is not very understanding of that. Lessons with G, N will be up our behinds. Pick a child, the others will use their sibling rivalry skills to interrupt. We have the garden to tend, the animals to feed, the house to clean and maintain. Life. Oh yes, that spouse thing. When deos one even have time for a conversation, much less intimacy or sex?

I simply don't know where I should get the energy to DO like I think is optimum for my kids. Further, I don't know whether I should do what I think is optimum. Am I over thinking it? Over reaching? I just don't know. Do I feel depression lurking because I am depressed, or simply because I am depleted? It doesn't take much to perk me up, so I don't think it is the big D. Factor in that children act like, well, children and you have some pretty high-energy dynamics going on in our household.

What I have decided to do to address the issue is just re-order our lives. We've been moving toward a more organic flow with thing. I used to have structured weeks, allowing for days to just "be." It's pretty much reversed now, and to some extent that seems to be working. We're not computers. I can't just tweak some html markup and javascript and suddenly transmute our lives in appearance and function. People change slower, over weeks and months. That alone is frustrating. Just altering habits within yourself takes so much time, but to do it for a whole family?

I will not give up on this. Nearly weekly I still marvel at their physical beauty, their athletic prowess, the creases of their smiles, the way their hair glints in the sun. I truly love being a mother. I love our specific little quirky family. I am grateful all the time, in stunned disbelief, that the life which started out as it did should have provided me with this amount of love and beauty. What I want is to have that feeling of wholeness and solidity that I envision when I think about our family. It will get there.

If I clean out the garage. :p

My bubbles, oh let them stay bubbles.

Our taxes on our house. Ugh.

The assessment for the value of our home, on which the taxes are figured, rose by
Ninety Thousand Dollars.

Reminders to self (to stem off hysteria):

• Beans and rice taste good. You like them.
• WA state has no income tax. This is where it all comes from.
• Beans and rice taste GOOD.
• Renting's not that bad.

Poop and a 4 yr old

This should raise the eyebrows of the weirdos who have surfed into my log after google searches for "caught poop" and "poop on foot." Sicko fetishists.

Right now. As we speak. My son is in the garden lean-to pooping behind the lawnmower. It's his "fake bathroom" he says.

This. Is. Gross.

He uses the gargantuan maple leaves we have to clean himself....my little naturalist. I don't know whether to be horrified or think he's clever.

Wispy hair

My baybay has wispies. He's never had so much as an ear trim.

Now he has car seat head, where he has that tangled bit in the back of his head? It's pretty bad on a routine basis, so I mentioned this morning that I would have to be trimming it.

G went on rant. No one was trimming her baby's hair. That's not alright with her. He's cute enough. He doesn't need to look like every other baby in the world. She went and got her detangler and brushed his hair out by herself.

"NOW we just need tomake sure we brush his hair every day (ok, G cause I don't, right?) and he can keep his cute hair."

Friend Chowdah

This weekend was long and boisterous. It was a hobbit party. It truly was. We had party guests from 1 PM Saturday until 10.30 PM that night. Our houseguests stayed over until the following afternoon, when we all went clamming and had some more people come back for that.

G did indeed hijack the initial festivities and the big girls had a dance party in her newly minted room while the youngers tore up Nick's room and bounced around outside. Then they alllllllllll joined up outside for the daddy-led yard games while the amused parents wandered around yapping. It was a little grey for G's wet slide party, so we didn't bust out the sprinkler.

Schnaygirl counted heads, and until she did that at 10 PM I had no idea we'd had 13 adults and 15 children.

Holy

shit.

Aside from the requisite pretzels and corn chips and stuff, we used an entire 1/4 sheet cake and a Dutch oven full of Grandaddy's rice pilaf. We had nuggets and fries for the kids and they ate all those as well. I never run out of party food, and we did that day. Even so, Schnayboy screwed up the courage to have Dave's insanity sauce on his pilaf again. Life was good.

G opened her gifts and it was really sweet. There wasn't one random present in the bunch. G is old enough that she is known to people now, and she got some really creative, thoughtful gifts. It made her happy and I was pretty touched.

Guests began to leave so P-Daddy fired up the bonfire. That's an invitation to stay, which some of our friends took. Indiegirl even left, tucked her kids in for the night and came back, and most of us sat around the fire sipping hooch while the kids sat with the rest of us inside watching Nanny McPhee. My kids were the first to crash, so I got to go to sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep around 11.45.

The next day Schnayboy came over earlier than planned because we'd scored a bunk bed on freecycle. P-daddy and Schnayboy lit out of here for FAR EAST TACOMA (BLECH) to meet these people at 10 AM. I watched Schnaybaby (a tow-headed 2 yo boy who chirps) and that kind of relegated us to cereal for breakfast because I didn't want to do my big giant breakfast thing without P-daddy watching our kids and with an extra baby, fuhgeddaboudit.

Well? Freecycle assholes didn't even show up. Wasted our time, wasted my guests' time and just generally pooped on the idea of freecycle altogether. This rarely happens to me, and when it does, I take it with a grain of salt. This time though, it dragged several of our friends into it and that pissed me off.

I was further enraged that in my feeble sleep-deprived attempt to make early espresso, I neglected to put water in my stovestop espresso machine and I melted the handle and the o-rings together. What an idiot. NO latte, and now, no latte maker! UGH UGH UGH.

I did get the green goo finished, which was a good thing since the Mommies who lovingly slathered the children in nuclear-holocaust SPF sunscreen forgot to put it on themselves. Sunburns = owie.

So, the men came back and we trooped down to the beach. P-daddy got some clams for his chowder (which he made Monday night) and we generally all collapsed in a heap in the sunshine-filled back yard. That's right, sunshine. Hence no chowder.

After hiking the beach slope, we came home and the kids had their sprinkler party with G after all. That's a beautiful sight and sound there, my friends. A nice end to a good weekend.

Save the net people

Corporate America is out to ruin our damn lives, I swear it.

One room down, gazillion to go

G's room is installed. OMG. I didn't get to paint it, but she's finally got everything hung and put away where it needs to be. I'd like more art in there for her, and non-cream colored walls, but this is a good feeling.

It's a lot more involved than it sounds, involving construction and repairs and welding. (Yes, welding.) but hey! It's done!

Gone with the guilt!

Now G wants to change her birthday party into a dance party in her room. Ahem. Sound familiar?

---

Watched the first four episodes of LOST season one last night. How much do I love netflix???? The show was good enough that the commercials would have slayed me.

Miss Myra's Gun

I have been poking around the blogger universe lately and finding all sorts of random things. This one touched a nerve for me. Guns certainly meant something different to us then. Frankly, I am still somewhat nervous that we don't have one.

More to the point, I hope that when it comes, I will recognize as well as so many of these elders do that it is my time to go.

---

On another random blog, I found this: Oprah for President!

The text for the cafepress shop reads

With all the talk of Hillary Clinton possibly becoming the first woman president in 2008, we need to take action! Yes one woman can change the world, but let's not let it be Hillary... It should be Oprah! If Oprah ran the country like she runs her buisness, we'd be set for world peace!
Vote O in '08 and elect Oprah Winfrey for the first woman to run America! Spread the word, tell your friends, and write to Oprah and tell her she's the best woman for the job!
Here you will find t-shirts, stickers, buttons, and more to help promote campaign '08 and elect Oprah, because a vote for O is a vote for women everywhere.

It's so very tongue in cheek, but oh how I agree with it anyway!

Eagles and Farmers and Deer, oh my

See this bird? It was in my backyard this morning. Chatting with ~A~, I got up to get some coffee. From my vantage point in the kitchen, I could see the entire breadth of the property and this guy flew in LOW....he flew beneath the level of the swingset bar and shot across the yard. I couldn't believe it. Seriously... bears and eagles and deer, oh my. ~A~ is currently chuckling at me because I am so enthralled. I have always lived in suburbia; camped in the wilderness of the Appalachians sure, but never LIVED somewhere where we had cool wildlife in the backyard. Rattlers, copperheads, mosquitoes and marsh rabbits don't count.

Happy Hunting, Mr. Eagle. Get yourself some chipmunk before they eat ALL my garden greens.

Speaking of greens, we went to the CSA farm yesterday so that G could visit her duck friends on her birthday. She enjoyed feeding the ducks their grass, blade by blade. She had one little duck friend in particular who was enjoying this lovefest. G communed with the duck while Nick ran around feeding the chickens stale bread from the farm store. P-Daddy wandered around between the kids, alternating hanging with the poultry and napping in the van with D. We got our farm honey fix and life was good.

I tracked down Farmer T and tried to set a month to redeem my GC to her farm share. Months before, I had a share but I had to let it go because I wanted to invest that money into the garden here. Well the garden is slow and I am having to buy produce I don't like. Even still, I didn't have the 500 up front to finance this, especially since the due date for the money was in May(FPS). She scoffed at that and said I had to spend the money for food anyway, and I said "well yeah, but not all at once." She made a face and said I could pay as I go, a suggestion on which I pounced like a farmcat on a baby chicken.

Seriously, even paying full price, the farm share is significantly less than 30.00 a week for organic produce. A LOT of organic produce. You can't match that in the stores, and frankly you'd have a hard time replacing the bounty we get even in conventional produce dollars. So right now I am loving some Farmer T.

So yesterday's G's birthday antics, directedby Miss G, went as follows:

pancake breakfast
gift from Mommy and Daddy
beach combing
into Tacoma for lunch at Subway
dessert at a safe ice cream shop in Ruston (found by Indiegirl)
farm time
toy store
home for opening Aunt Barbara gift
chocolate oatmeal for supper

Yowza. No wonder they slept in this morning



(Why does D prefer dog food to cereal? Tell me this?)

P-Daddy and the airplane

P-Daddy will be out of town for the next three days. BLEGH BLEGH BLEGH! I hate the new job v. family time. It's running him into the ground, and I know it. If it were me, I'd like to think two nights in a Sheraton hotel room would feel like heaven, (clean, hot bath ALONE? cable TV without regard for ratings? chance to read a novel cover to cover??? oh goodness!), yet he swears he sleeps worse away from home. The way he crashes and sleeps in when he does return from a trip kind of proves it true.

I'll be missing mother's night out tomorrow, which sucks a$$. We finally got the yarn garden to let us have our yarn arts circle THERE, and this is the first time. Also, I am busting it out on T's (not ~T~) baby blanket. She just had her beautiful girl so I switched to crochet because I can move fast on that. I have to admit though, if I can devote myself to wearing the kids out tomorrow, then I can hang in my big giant bed tomorrow, watching movies and knitting a baby blanket. Maybe that won't be so bad.

D has been sleeping through the night for about a month now. Between that and the concerta, it's been nice feeling like me, and getting things done. (with the exception of the financial perfect storm, that is!) We're finally just now getting G's room installed. We hung the curtains and some of her decorations, took the louvre doors off her closet and moved it into an even better floor plan. She has such a tiny space, we really needed to maximize it.

N is in serious need of Mommy time. I am wondering if this is a middle child thing? Poor guy gets the short end of the stick almost constantly. He enjoyed his birthday week, but now he's back to NOT being the baby-who-needs and NOT being the gung-ho always-doing-some-new-thing oldest. I have to be smart enough to nurture what he needs. I still feel stupid about raising boys and now I have two of them.

Is this placenta guilt? He's so precious, and so open to learning and affection. I need to feel as connected to him as I do to the others.

The kids themselves are really close, though. I love watching the sibling love. I can see that in some adults I know, and I hope my kids grow up to enjoy each other and love each other that much.

Happy Birthday To YOU!

Today is G's sixth birthday. Six years old!

In a perfect event for a 6 year old's life, one of her top teeth fell out last night so overnight the tooth fairy came and left her some money under her pillow. Instead of the two quarters, she got a dollar because, you know, it's her birthday.

Her celebration will be on Saturday, so today is family time. P-daddy is staying home and we plan to beach it, and maybe go out to the farm to buy some honey. We gave her a necklace pendant like the one I always wear. They come from the sunken galleon Atocha. I just LOVE mine and I wear it almost every day. G loves the romantic story of how the coins came to be, and has for about a year fantasized about having one of her own.

Lest you think we're all bling and rollin' in the dough, the Atocha was a true motherlode find, which held many beautiful coins, jewels, artifacts and many more bars of purest silver. The silver bars, nice and sparkly, still don't sell all that well. The Mel Fisher company pressed the silver into replica coins and made skazillions of pieces of jewelry out of them. Those replica pieces are what G and I wear.

I'd like to get the little earrings! That would be cool.

Star Trek Child

My daughter tends to dress in ... unusual ways. Sometimes she is UBER HIP, right on the cutting edge of fashion now. Sometimes she looks like a European immigrant coming off the boat at Ellis Island. But most of the time she reminds me of every colonist ever depicted on Star Trek TNG.

Exhibit one:

Feeling better

Yesterday was day two in a huge assault on the financial beastie. I feel better. At least, I don't have the constriction in my blood vessels I was having when I thought about dealing with it. For better or worse, the checks are written and the stuff that has to wait, will have to wait.


This weekend is the maritime Gig Festival, and I am excited about it. We totally missed it last year and I was bummed. I really like Gig Harbor and this is the "yay I live in Gig Harbor!" festival.

The thin line

Nikirj lives in a tiny house. There is one wall between the living and the sleeping areas, dividing the rooms. She describes it as the "thin veil of sanity." I feel like I have one of those walls between me and everyone else right now.

I grew up poor. It makes me nuts when people say they are "poor" and get all keep-up-with-the Joneses about financial shit when they have large TVs, DVD players, stereos, x-boxes, multiple cars, multiple cell phones, high speed internet, kids in extra curricular activities.... come ON! That's NOT poverty. I am talking POOR. Not dirt floor poor, but holes in the windows, ceilings and doors poor. No a/c in the South poor. Intimate friends with 10 year old hand me down clothes poor. No food in the house poor. Break-an-arm-no-electricity-next-month-staying-with-Grandma poor.

It stands to reason then, that one of the Big Two triggers for me backflipping into anxiety land is financial stress. Want to watch me trip? Wait for when I screw up financially.

This month has been rough for me because *I* made an error on our bank account. A big one. A purty one. A REAL BIG FAT ONE. Combined with my insurance company acting up (idiots!) and th eperson who sold us this house not paying her taxes last year (grrr), the month ofMay was a Perfect Storm of financial duress. I am wigging my behind out.

Will we get it done? Yes. Will it effect the rest of our lives? Probably not. But it could effect the next four or five, and that is what I have to be smart enough to avoid. Nothing can prevent us from refinancing this house, nothing, or we will be in big doodoo when the AROM loan comes up for adjustment. FUH LOGGING myself is exactly what I am doing righ about now.

So anyway, my thin veil of sanity is fluttering in the wind. I am trying not to snap at my kids, I am avoiding my friends as much as possible and certainly not driving too many places when gas is at 3.25 / gallon. It's driving me a little bit nuts that I am flashing back to my childhood when I am no where near any danger of that ( I think!), but that's the nasty little nature of PTSD.

Again! Yay for happy pills!

Nine hours of sleep-- can you picture it?

Supposedly we should be getting nine hours of sleep as an adult. I wonder how I would feel if I got nine hours of sleep, every night, for a week. Truly, I can't even fathom it. Do you remember that soft, drowsy feeling you had when you got your full complement? The cat stretch in the bed, the slightly confused sensation as you decided whether you should go to the bathroom right now, or maybe {GASP} roll over?



We have some beach shots from after Nick's birthday. I feel like I am "back in business." Being without a functional camera since before Christmas has really left me low. Now that I think about it, I wonder if that had a lot to do with my depression. I couldn't instantly "create," and that is so important to me. There's something about catching that moment, that glint of color, that certain mood. Several of my good friends (online or not!) are all gifted photographers. We are all competent in photography, but we have our specialties that mark our work. I love the cheeks and the eyes; watching the children morph in front of me while I document this version of theirselves forever.

Another friend of mine likes portraiture, but her gift is still life. She captures the mood of an empty room, the personality of an object. You can smell the paint, feel the warmth of the sun in places she has shot just by looking at her pics. Another woman, whose first love is clearly Mt. Rainier, takes mountain pictures that are neither boring nor expected. She uses her photographs to place you there, and she does it well. Yet she took birth pictures for me that outstrip any professional shots I have seen online.

It's all about what you see. I am so grateful to Niki and Fran for loaning me a camera.

Livejournal didn't do it for me

Or anyone else for that matter.

I transferred everything over here, and I hope that this will give me the incentive to actually post in the blog.

Yeah, the blog. Supposedly the way I can keep in touch with my family and friends abroad. Keep track of the garden, the homeschool, life in general.

Ok.

I can.