Adventures in Left-handedness

Hey guys ... breaking a limb as important as a wrist is going to have life-changing consequences.  Some of them I predicted; more have surfaced along the way.  But I can never feel too sorry for myself because, as I recall, many pioneers (and other people!) have raised families/lived their lives without the limbs that I still have use of.  Also, a sister in my ward had a cast up to her shoulder when she had a two-month old to take care of.  Oy.
Anyway, here is a little list of things that have happened, predicted or not.

Foreseen: eating simpler meals to save time and cleanup
Unforeseen: the great hospitality of people I barely know, bringing wonderful meals in when we had little time to fix it for ourselves

Foreseen: holding my baby only to feed him ... even that can be painful
Unforeseen: taking him from Slice in church, only to have him immediately start rooting around and shrieking like he just realized he is STARVING TO DEATH, just because Mom is now holding him (insert: quick exit from Sunday School)

Foreseen: Slice getting up at night to get Liam, change his diaper, rock him to sleep, etc.
Unforeseen: me getting so used to it that I don't even wake up when he cries anymore

Foreseen: not being able to fix my own hair
Unforeseen: not even being able to convince Slice to try to fix it.  I thought I could get him to practice braiding or something; I was wrong.  He flat-out refuses.

Foreseen: taking longer to do just about everything
Unforeseen: a new bout of clumsiness wherein I drop everything, bump into things, and lose balance on a regular basis

Foreseen: a messier house than I would like
Unforeseen: going without staples like milk, eggs and bread for days on end because I'm too lazy (and it's too much of a pain, too many other things to do, or whatever other excuses I pull out) to go to the grocery store

Foreseen: being unable to put Liam in his carseat or get him out
Unforeseen: being unable to go anywhere without Slice, because I can't get Liam in or out of the car, period.

Foreseen: having a hard time keeping any secrets from Slice while I am so dependent on him
Unforeseen: having NOTHING for him on Christmas morning (besides the pistachios and toothbrush in his stocking) because all my other Christmas present plans, some of which involved sewing, fell through

I believe in Equal Opportunity Parenting, and Slice is doing a great job. He never complains but is always asking what else he can do for me.  And while I miss being the primary soother, etc., I have also really enjoyed watching Slice build his relationship with Liam.  That kid loves his dad more than anything.
(And vice versa.)
We're in good hands.


Room #1 - comprising Projects 0, 1-4, 6, 8-11, etc. etc. etc....

One of the things we loved about this house when we first walked through was that it was pretty much move-in ready.  No major projects needing to be done before it was livable.

Cue: ominous music

When the previous owners moved out and we came to (surprise!) deep clean, Slice and his father checked the ceiling in the living room.  It was sparkly asbestos -commonly referred to as "popcorn ceiling" and/or "linked to cancer" - applied to plaster, and we thought it would be easier to take care of without any of our stuff in it.  So while I finished up packing for the move, the men scraped and wiped the ceiling, then cleaned up and vacuumed/cleaned carpets before moving the furniture in.

Then we waited a month.

Slice primed the accent wall and formerly dark green hall.  Then as soon as the texture gun was available, we covered all the furniture and widened the cracks in the old ceiling.  Once again Slice and his dad worked to patch, sand, patch, sand, texture, scrape, prime, and paint. 
(Okay, I did a little of the sanding, priming and painting too.)
They did a fabulous job.  

Liam watched with great interest, and more than a little concern that his newly-found home was changing once again.
We decided on white walls ... for now.  We also replaced the original flowery sconces with new brass ones, but have not yet installed the main light fixture, because that will require some preliminary electrical work.  In the attic.

Last week, Slice and several of my brothers/in-laws moved our piano to the house.  My brother Jordan even tuned it for me!  I was so happy to have a piano in my house again, I broke my wrist to celebrate.

Now all we need is a light fixture, some "window treatments"* (I hate that phrase), a new piano mirror & bench, new coverings on my chair/cedar chest/couch, pictures on my walls, and the room will be DONE!
Good thing I have all this extra time and money on my hands; Liam and I can knock it out in no time.

Yes, that was sarcastic.

*more thermal ones, of course, because those windows are huge and we just got our first heating bill and YOWZERS!


a picture to appease

We're a little short-handed around here (ha ha), but I'm working on some posts, don't you fret.


Thoughts on Energy Efficiency

Firstly, GOOD NEWS!  The break is not such a bad one, says the Dr., so I don't even need a hard cast on it!  They put me in a splint that I can take off to shower, wash my hands, and eventually exercise my wrist a bit.  This is so good.  It means I can also type, write, and (attempt to) fix my hair over the next six weeks, which we previously thought unlikely.
And now for the rest of this post.

I try to be energy efficient, really I do.  Really, I have tried ever since 5th grade when we did Debate and the Resolution was "Resolved: that the State of Utah establish a program to substantially increase Renewable Energy Use within its borders."  (Yes I remember.)  I was on the Affirmative Side of that debate, so I learned all about how Utah's non-renewable energy resources are DISAPPEARING and by the year 20__ we will have nothing left unless we switch to renewable energy sources like solar, wind, and water power.
I've been scribbling in my margins ever since.

Then I lived in Europe for a while, and then I went to Japan, where not recycling a plastic bottle is pretty much a crime.  You already know I can't stand to waste food, but I also recycle my Walmart plastic bags and use my Green grocery bags every single time I remember to.  (Frankly, it's not that often.)

Now that we are homeowners and have utility bills coming, I've been investing in thermal drapes/curtains for my windows - especially since the previous owner scared us a little with the winter figures he gave having to do with electricity.  I've spent so many hours looking for low prices in decent colors and correct sizes, I might even be an expert by now.  Some of the drapes I've ordered certainly work better than others for blocking light in Liam's bright room, keeping draft out, etc. etc.

As it happens, the ones that work the best are the ones I put up in our bedroom, which is a Problem.  Capital P (and that rhymes with "T" and that stands for "Tool!").

The drapes are so efficient, they block out the morning light, and Slice and I keep staying in bed later and later, because the room is so dark and the (new) bed is comfy, and if Liam is sleeping we can just sleep and sleep and sleep ..............

Slice says we have to take them down now.
But what about the drafts??



You've all heard about the Provo Tabernacle by now, right?  Slice notified me first thing (like, 7:00) this morning.  And my friend Linnea got some incredible photographs of the incident.

The whole thing is so sad.  I loved that building.  It's strange, too, because just this week I found videos of one of my Spring University Chorale concerts (that we performed in the Tabernacle) on Youtube, pretty randomly - and Slice and I have been watching/talking about them for a week now.

The acoustics in that hall were amazing; I'll never forget what an awesome experience it was to sing in there.


...and I'm thinking Jordan is just bad luck.

Alternate titles for this post:
  • How the Lord warns prepares me for trials (and also moves in Mysterious Ways)
  • Left-handed is the new Black
  • the swelling, it was awesome
Have I got a story for you folks!

One day almost two years ago, my brother Matt broke his leg badly enough that it had to be operated on.  My other brother Jordan, a med student, was just pulling into town from St. Louis and was allowed to watch the doctors cut open his little brother.
Matt had to delay his mission 6 weeks, which caused all sorts of havoc, but it worked out all right in the end.

Fast forward to two weeks ago.

Jordan is in town again, this time for a month-long radiology rotation.  Shortly after he arrived in Roosevelt we got word from missionary Matt that he needed emergency surgery and would be coming home for a few weeks.  Once again Jordan scrubbed in, and not only watched but participated in the surgery.  (Matt will be heading back to Paraguay on the 27th, by which time he should be fairly well-recovered.)

Today I stepped out my front door and carefully made my way down the icy concrete steps.  See, I don't know about where you live, but here in Roosevelt we've had more rain than snow this month.  And just this morning the rain turned to sheets of ice, the likes of which many of us have never seen.
You see where I'm going with this.

My feet disappeared and I landed, mostly on my right wrist, which has given me trouble periodically since high school.  Slice came outside to make sure I made it to the car and found me hollering, swinging my arm, hopping up and down, and blabbering on about how we have no handrail (which we've never even talked about) so there was nothing I could do to prevent such a fall.  His confusion was quite understandable.
(Me? I was just in pain.)

A couple hours and six X-rays later, I am the unfortunate bearer of a fractured wrist.  Oh yes.
Meaning: I won't make it to his Holiday Open House, but I'll be seeing the orthopedic surgeon next Monday morning for a cast.  My 6-month old now thinks his mother is neglecting him.  I can't take a real shower for  ____ # of weeks.

Did I mention that my mother had shoulder surgery about a month ago, and my dad had a little surgery the same day as Matt?  And that my sister is expecting a baby in April?

Right now I'm counting my blessings: we re-instated our health insurance coverage this month; Slice is currently unemployed.  I have a dishwasher.  I scrubbed my bathroom first thing this morning.  Fig and Truffs brought me Christmas treats.

This post has taken me two hours to write.  The left one just doesn't work well alone.


Ward Business*

You probably already know this but in our old ward, the Bishop was -and is- my Dad.
This was great in all kinds of ways: sweet temple recommend interviews, grandchildren making faces from the second row, getting the true stories behind ward gossip, constant access to the church.

Now in our new ward, the Bishop is my old boss.  The guy I used to spend 40 hours a week with.  The guy who sat and watched as I practically ruined his work life.
(You know, by quitting but not quitting and turning the aide position into a part-time one, then leaving him solo for an entire month, then saying I would come back to work in the fall but only working a few weeks before quitting for good....)
This is also great in all kinds of ways.

By our second official Sunday in the ward, I was substituting for the Primary chorister and Slice was teaching Elders Quorum; we juggled the babe between us.  We've been recruited to the ward choir and also given new callings.  I joke with people that it's weird to have a bishop who already knows me so well.  He knows my family and a fair amount of recent history; my opinions on books, current events and trends; my organizational quirks and (many, many!) pet peeves.  The nature of our work brought about a lot of discussion on such things.

My favorite thing, though, is that most people in the new ward don't know that I know the Bishop on a personal level.  They point out his children to me, telling me their names, explaining relationships and things that I am already well-aware of.
And I just smile and nod, thanking them for the valuable information.  These people are so kind.

In other news, the ward we moved into is very different from the one we left.
I know, I know!
The ward we left was (is) exceptional in many ways - literally.  Membership, activity, tithing and growth rates are off the charts, even by Utah standards.  Also, the ward choir is possibly the best in existence.
But as much as we loved it, I didn't really feel needed.  Except to keep 100+ Primary kids in check.  Meetings were big and often noisy, even irreverent.

Not so much here!

In any case - it's nice to feel needed every once in a while.

*My apologies in the off-chance that (as a reader of my blog, that is) you don't speak fluent Mormon...



speaking of Hallelujah,

If you are in the Basin and dying to sing some Handel,

(Carolyn? Hello? Are you there?)

we have one more practice until our Annual Messiah Sing-In.

You can still join the chorus (Carolyn? Hello?),

or you can just come and Sing In.  (Well, that's what you're supposed to do. Most people don't.)

Or, you can just come and listen.  Most people do.

Friday, December 17th 7:00 p.m. RJHS  - Free of charge

See you there?


Merry Christmas and a happy New Year, to us.

So the sleeping.
It's going well.
(Thanks for asking.)

We've had a rough few months with the sickness and teething and moving and switching from cradle to crib.  Quite rough, actually, because Liam was waking 3-4 (even 5!) times a night and expecting to be rocked back to sleep.  This did not happen even when he was a newborn.
See, I had that "cry yourself to sleep" thing going for a couple weeks, but it was only when I put him down for the night, and it turned back into "nurse him to sleep/back to sleep/whenever he won't calm down" as soon as the stuffy nose hit.  It was not good.

I waited for the croup and sniffles to go away.  So for a while we were zombies, Slice and I - slaves to our baby's desires.  I should probably mention here that Slice goes above and beyond his husbandly duties (according to many) by actually getting up and getting the baby, rocking him back to sleep, or bringing him to me to be fed.  He has done so from the start.  Thank you, you are so wonderful, love you long time, Slice.


As you're expecting, I got fed up again.  The cold was gone, his tummy was full, WHY ARE YOU NOT SLEEPING, CHILD.  So I told Slice, "Don't get him when he wakes up, let him cry.  At least until 5:00 or so." (We usually put him to bed between 9:30 and 10:00.)

He woke up once, cried for a while (30 mins?), then slept until 7:00.
The next night he woke up once and cried for 8 minutes - I timed, yes - and slept until almost 8:00.
The next few nights he slept all night and
my baby sleeps through the night, for reals!  9:30-7:30, consistently.

If only he hadn't gotten sick (and all that stuff), we could have done it sooner.


Project #1

 The Grand Bookshelf.
Formerly of a nondescript glazed beige ....

 NOW of a beautiful Colonial blue.
Still, not to be holding all of my books because it is too narrow.  Ah, well.  You cannot win them all.

(Sorry for the terrible pics.  Apparently the color changes throughout the day.  Don't click to make them bigger!!)


Possibly my favorite thing about this house

Father-In-Law: "Isn't it illegal to bury....?"
Father: "Yes, yes it is."



For his half-birthday the little munchkin got to meet his Uncle Matt!  Unexpected (until two days ago, that is), but really quite fun.  We sang some favorite Christmas carols, passed around the One-Tooth-Wonder, ate pistachio pudding and ice cream, and chuckled at the resident Paraguayan, who kept poking his head inside various appliances and repeating their names aloud, as if in wonder.

"Wow, Microwave Oven..."

Also he spouted off phrases in Spanish.

A happy day, all around.

(Isn't that tooth the darndest thing you ever saw??  So glad this kid made me a mother.)


Six months ago...

... I didn't know what a "bundle of joy" was.

Six months ago I was lying in a hospital bed, wondering if all the pain and discomfort, the inconvenience and work, would really be worth it.

Six months ago I didn't know if I could do this job - feeding and loving and nurturing this little creature, and forgetting myself in the process.  Or if I would like it.

Six months ago, I didn't know that I would love it all ... more than anything in this world.


A Love Story

(Oh hey, I have a blog??)

Once upon a time in a distant land lived a little family, in a little place.
They were (mostly) content in that little place.  But they also had plans.

The plan was to wait until the end of golf season 2010, and then to move - either to a house in the vicinity, or to somewhere else - depending on what happened with the golf course.  This plan was held on to for months and months, even over a year, and even when unforeseen events rocked the foundations of this plan.
(See: here, here, and here, and here, and read between the lines.)

In the meantime, the Good Wife was checking Realtor.com several times a week for houses in Roosevelt, Texarkana, St. George ... even Arizona.  She wanted to be ready for whatever was coming.

One fine day, the very week the little family decided to stay in the Basin (for now) - and also not even a week after writing this post -  the Good Wife found a house listed in Roosevelt.  One that met and exceeded all of the pre-determined qualifications AND was in our price range.  I sent the link to Slice immediately.
It had been listed just that day.
The next day Slice had off work, and we were trying to decide what to do.  I told him how much I loved the house, and how it was going to get snatched up quickly, there are never decent houses in that price range on our market, and why don't we at least go look at it?  He reluctantly agreed.  An hour later we were waiting at the house.

It was a quick walk-through.  Liam was fussy, we were just taking a look, we hadn't even pre-qualified for a loan.  But it was love at first sight.
(I believe in love at first sight!)

So, we pre-qualified.  We put in an offer that same day.  We had a yard sale while waiting for the answer.  We upped the offer.  We waited some more.  We prayed.  We felt good about it all.
And they accepted.
And we waited some more.

Turns out, quitting a job isn't the best thing to do right before trying to qualify for a mortgage loan.  Neither is having an 8-month seasonal job.

But we packed and planned anyway.  I stopped watching TV.  I also stopped blogging, and reading books, and cleaning .... and doing anything but dreaming about colors, furniture, bookshelves, dishwashers, kitchen counters, bedrooms, unpacking all those boxes that have been packed SINCE MY WEDDING.
Okay, so I went a little crazy for a while.  Like six weeks.  I was nesting all over again.

Lo, it was not in vain!  With a little extra finagling, our loan came through; we signed our lives away.  It was so exciting.

The evening after the previous owners moved out, we came to examine the place.  Of course, they left it a mess.  Dog hair everywhere.  Gross bathrooms and fridge and pantry.  Unfinished coving in the basement (that was in the contract!-- ). A wall of MOLD behind the Grand Bookshelf.
We had to clean for two days before we could even move in.

Four years ago, the program director for Vienna Study Abroad told us that when you move somewhere new, you go through four stages: Honeymoon, Hate, Habituate, Home.

Guys, we are totally honeymooning it.
(Pics coming soon.)



We are still sick.  
I'm coughing just a bit, Slice is coughing a lot, and Liam can hardly breathe while he eats and sleeps.  (I hate it.)  At least we have health insurance now, wahoo!

He also started teething.

We closed on our house yesterday...
...but can't move in until Friday/Saturday.  I've been packing for weeks now, just a box here and there.  This method of packing is feeding my OCD tendencies to have everything packed in just the right size of box, just the right weight, in just the right order.  Yes, Slice has been mocking me for this, and no, I can't blame him too much.  It just makes me so happy.

That's it.

Love y'all.


It's called the "too busy to eat" diet. Also because some of my kitchen stuff is packed.

File under: "Another blog about why I can't blog, and I KNOW you can't either but I'm still trying to figure out this mother thing and the house-buying thing is totally throwing my groove."

This week
Mortgage Loan App v. 3.2  (success: good, so far)
     a. verification
     b. earnings statement
     c. etc.
Insurance App v. 2.4
     a. certificate of creditable coverage
     b. fax
     c. etc.
Office hours for dad
     a. monthly billings  (success: slow)
Pack belongings
Help Mom paint house / watch kids for painters
Nurse sick baby
Care for sick husband
Try not to get sick, self  (success: none)
    a. take
    b. edit
    c. post
     a. setup
     b. take down cradle
     c. buy/wash/apply crib bedding
     d. transition (success: pending)
Golf Banquet
    a.  cash unexpected, totally awesome reimbursement + check!!
    a.  piano (success: good)
    b.  voice (success: great)
Messiah practice  (oops)
Internet: none
Et Cetera



St.ly distractions

Sunday last week, as I said, we packed ourselves into the car and drove all the way to St. George.  It was by far the longest car trip we have taken with Liam.  He did fine until the last hour - and then he punished us for days.  Anytime we put him in the car seat he would start panicking.  ("Noooooo! I know what you're doing to me!  I will NEVER get out of here!")
Anyway.  Liam also became a stomach-sleeper on this trip.  I have no idea why.  I'd put him to bed on his back, like a good little mommy, and he would roll right over and stay that way.
Don't worry, I don't put him on pillows in real life.
We stayed in a second home (of sorts) belonging to Slice's former boss's father ... yeah.  I was expecting an older, small but well-kept home.  Not a brand spanking NEW 3 bed 2 bath with gorgeous oversized furniture, granite countertops, king-size bathtub, etc.  Talk about luxury!  I felt so spoiled.
We did lots of shopping (not as much buying), driving, TV/movie-watching, and eating.  We also took your suggestions and visited the Brigham Young winter home (loved it!), the historic park (fake river and all, it was awesome), and the temple.  Most of all, we enjoyed the warmer weather, and each other.  Thoroughly.
Incidentally, have any of you seen The Ghost Writer or the new Robin Hood?  Do you want to talk about it?  Because I do.
We met my friend Rachel from high school and her two lovely children at the park, and Liam had the great privilege of being in a Rachel sandwich. If you went to high school with me, you know what I'm talking about ... right?  Geoff?

Thursday was return-trip day, and we made it in time for me to go to my 7:30 voice lesson.

All around, a good time.


(mostly) sweet distractions

I, Jean, having been practically internet-free for two weeks, nevertheless my house looking like an utter catastrophe hath occurred within it, because of the many diversions I have sought to distract me from the Mortgage Waiting Game, do make an account of the events which have transpired in my absence.

And it came to pass that two weeks ago our dear friends the Farrers traveled from Springville for a short visit. We ate coconut curry (sorry, Liam!) and wontons, went for a golf cart ride, played in Neola, and viewed The House in Question. We also played Blokus many times. (I love that game.)

Two days later we arose early, yea, even before 6:00 a.m., and began our journey to the Mt. Timpanogos temple. And it came to pass that as we drove between Duchesne and Strawberry, we were hit by a very very large elk, which was moving in our direction. We had no time to stop and survey the damage until we were waiting at a traffic light in Orem. And behold, the Lord hath blessed us abundantly, for although we thought the destruction to our vehicle would be great, to our astonishment, the only thing damaged was our right side-view mirror.
And thus we see that miracles happen even in these latter days.

We attended the sealing of Lu & Dustin while my dear Brit watched Liam, and it was truly lovely. Afterward we stayed around the temple grounds and took pictures until it was time to go to the luncheon.

(Why are these pics fuzzy in Blogger?)

Then Slice left, and I spent the rest of the day with Brit - reception and drive back to Roosevelt (in the dark)
(I was a bit more anxious than usual) -  we made it.



In the St. George

... until Thursday. I've never been here except to pass through, and Liam and I will have the next two days all to ourselves - thanks to State Golf.

Is there anything we HAVE to do? Weather permitting, of course.



Dear Husband,

When I told you all those (5+) years ago that I like to do dishes,
I was lying.

Whew.  Feels good to have that off my chest.



FTM final

Last week I gave back my keys to the high school, heralding the beginning of my career as a stay-at-home-mom.

I've chronicled the library job enough that I don't think another post is necessary, except maybe to tell you what I won't miss.

I won't miss the appalling lack of respect or the terrible, terrible ignorance of rural teenage life.
I won't miss the weirdies that the Basin produces in droves, teachers who expected me to do their work for them and got irritated when I told them I couldn't.  Or the bullying, whining, the nastiness I had to deal with.

I will miss the books, the Special Ed kids, the excitement of putting new books on the shelves that I knew the kids would love.  I'll miss checking the stats on our circulation and turning them into wordles.
I'll miss proofreading things for the English teachers and administrators, setting up blogs for the Adult Roles classes, creating and rotating seasonal/historical displays.
I'll miss the unexpected things like finding Lyndon B. Johnson's signature inside his biography.
(That one made it into the local paper!)

And, seriously, I'm gonna miss shifting books on the shelves so that they fit just right.  It was my favorite part of inventory - by far.

I'll miss being part of the education system, part of the workforce, making money "out there."

But you know what?  My new job is not half bad.


Because he's so dang cute

This is what Liam does when put in front of a mirror.
I hope he always loves himself this much!


offering some sour grapes

So the awesome thing about working in a publicly-funded position is that everyone’s watching you, all the time.  And wanting to know where your money is coming from.

For instance:
Apparently some people think that Slice is getting paid double for coaching the boys’ golf team.  As in, paycheck from the school district and paycheck from the city for the same hours he puts in.


He’s not getting paid from either.

My husband coaches 3 hours a day on school days (not to mention summer practices) and all day on many Thursdays, volunteering his time, out of the goodness of his heart.  For the love of the game.  Whatever.
And half of those punks don’t even care.  They fool around, wasting their time and his (and mine!) because they’ve never worked a day in their lives.  Their parents buy them trucks and Ipods and clubs and carts - and college educations.  Their mothers call and make excuses for them when they're late for practice.  They haven’t a clue what a precious commodity TIME is for some people.

You sense my frustration, yes?
(I was having a hard enough time with this before I heard of the accusations...)

The injustice of it all, I guess, is that so many people don’t see my husband for what he really is.  I’m sure this is true for everyone to a certain extent, regardless of profession.  Spouses see it and lament over it and bear the burden of it.  Which is why I try to give people the benefit of the doubt, every time.

Oh, I wish they all would!

Rant over.

PS This has nothing to do with my post from last week, although I do seem to be agitated lately, don't I?
PPS Slice will probably want me to take this down so if it disappears, you'll know why.  He's like that.

slacking on blogging - CHECK

3 days of yard sale (after gutting the house and going through all earthly possessions) - CHECK

home inspection - CHECK

home loan application - CHECK

funeral musical number - CHECK

finally figuring out that "Majestic rises on the world" is just part of a longer phrase in this hymn - CHECK
(yes, this should have happened a long time ago...)

watching all eight hours of weekend goodness - CHECK

looking for new music students (piano and voice) - CHECK

selling old car - CHECK

enjoying every minute with my most delicious baby - CHECK CHECK CHECK

So sad to see the car go


If it gets any better I might just wake up

Saturday I watched the annual General Relief Society Meeting with my Mutti in the comfort of her living room.  I always love this meeting, always leave knowing exactly what I need to do better and feeling so humbled that I have to try.  This year was no exception.

Sunday I was standing in the hall after church, holding Liam and talking to people as they passed by.  I looked down to see a darling girl (7 yrs old?) from the ward watching me, not the baby as I'd thought.  She said "You're beautiful," quiet and earnest-like, then walked away as soon as I thanked her.  And I melted.

Yesterday Slice got a call from a Realtor informing that the seller had accepted our offer - meaning WE ARE GOING TO BE HOMEOWNERS - and so, if all goes well, we will be posting pictures and updates as frequently as possible.  I'm ridiculously happy about the prospects of having so much space to ourselves, not to mention a garage and dishwasher, but when I think about it too much I can't sleep at night.
(Also, it's not a done deal yet, so you never know what could happen.)

But hey .... YAY!


Just trying to keep up

- with my growing baby, who is now rolling and playing with his toes and giggling and drinking rice cereal in a bottle at night (it fills him up; he sleeps twelve hours with one feeding!)

- with my house, which has been gutted and neglected with all this yard sale business going on

- with my husband, who has ideas (and energy) enough to fill a warehouse and then some

- with my laundry, which is never done, if you've ever had a 3-month old you know what I'm saying


- with my brain, which I'm having a hard time reining in during the wee hours of morning.  It's taxing.
(More on that later.)


There are people in this world who want all the best for you in life.  Truly.

These people are happy for you when things go well.  They offer encouragement and assistance without being asked; they offer advice only when asked.  If you do ask, they'll tell you about their experiences, then say - "I'm sure that won't happen to you, though!" or "That's what I wish I had known!" or "I hope it goes even better for you!"  And the best part is, they mean it.

You know these people, right?  You befriend them and love them and hang onto those friendships, because they make your life better.  I'm a firm believer in the whole "learn from other people's mistakes" idea.  In fact, I believe that's what we are here for.

There are other people, unfortunately, who don't want you to have what they don't/can't/didn't.

These people caution you about doing anything they don't believe you can do.  They give you unwarranted advice, worst-case scenarios, horror stories.  "Oh BOY are you in for it," they say, or "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into!"  (Like that's helpful.  Thank you, I'll call later for the I-told-you-so speech.)
They might be jealous, they might want pity ... who really knows?

I bet you know some of these other people as well; they are everywhere.  I'm sure I have even been one myself, on more than one occasion.  Lately I've been thinking -- maybe it takes the latter to know the former.  Maybe you have to have opposition if you're ever going to get where you want to go.  Opposition makes us stronger, wiser and hopefully, more compassionate.

But by jove, I am grateful for those who have supported me.  For my parents, who taught me everything and now trust me to make my own decisions.  For my siblings, who treat me as a peer when I need it the most.  For my friends who want the best for me, even when I don't know what I want myself.
I hope I can do the same.


So worth it

After more than two years of trying every possible way to get around it, I finally bought a blender that will crush ice.

What a world it is!



the "fro-hawk," as Slice calls it
our first canning attempt
Slice's remote-control plane
watching him (try to) fly it
precious cargo (check out those chubby fingers!)
our Lion King