Life is Art

Last night was a small slice of hell. Our two children both awoke vomiting at about 1 AM. It continued through the night. As Ralph and I dealt with this drama we got in an argument. Because of course! What else do we need. After about forty-five solid minutes of vomit detail Ralph and Nels went back to bed and I spent until 4:30 AM up with my daughter, cleaning bedding, giving her a bath, helping her vomit, and trying (successfully) not to cry. About every thirty minutes thereafter Sophie and I slept-talked through her illness; she would fidget, I'd say, "Do you have to puke?" and her voice would come back crystal-clear and small and precise and duck-like: "Not quite yet." Then she'd say, "Mama, I have to puke," and I'd whisk her over to the floor where her vassal awaits. After she was done I'd wipe her mouth and go flush and rinse the barf-tub. Rinse and repeat, all night. Surprisingly, I really did sleep pretty well once we got this rhythm down.

And this morning while Sophie continues to dry-heave on the hour, Nels so far has not thrown up since last night. This makes the amount of times he's vomited in his lifetime, um... once? That boy keeps stuff down.

The amount of foul-smelling laundry, bedding, towels and clothes I have this morning is overwhelming. And here I am with my son on my lap typing and smelling puke in his hair and hoping to God I don't get whatever it is they got. We have company coming over for the weekend - one of my best friends, her daughter, and their two dogs. Needless to say my guest preparations are set back a bit (I did disclose to my friend).

Readers, if you're even reading this far, I have two sick kids and a lot of vomit and am feeling very alone.

Labels: chaos, illness

What is it about the city where any time I plan something there I'm sure it's going to go tits-up? I fret we will be late (even though I leave with adequate time to get there), I'm sure our event tickets won't be recognized (they always have been), that my wheels with catastrophically fail and somehow I'll be stranded with no help in sight (never happened). In any case the night before our trip to Seattle for Bodies the Exhibition I couldn't sleep well at all, having minor anxiety attacks over the 5-hour roundtrip drive and who knows what else.


So this morning at 9:00(ish) Sophie, my brother, and I head up and I stop for coffee and gas and after that we make rather excellent time. Good thing too as parking in the city... meh. We eventually find a space that gives me a postage-sized room to maneuver and after a few minor detours we wave our tickets at some attendants and are allowed into the almost pitch-black rooms and softly lit displays of human anatomy, all plasticized but still somehow gooey looking.

The exhibition itself mostly made me sad. I couldn't help feeling that no matter how classy they tried to dress it up as "science" basically this was a circus, a money-making enterprise. My brother reported getting hungry while looking at the layers of meat ("like really good jerky"). For me it just bolstered my vegetarianism. It wasn't disgusting or anything (OK, some things were slightly off-putting, especially the teratoma and the slices of diseased organs) but the flesh of the specimens reminded me of the cats we dissected in highshool anatomy and those, those were gross.

Sophie is solid. She can recognize the shapes of organs, even at the displays that had somehow chemical frozen blood and arterial structures with no surrounding tissues. She was a bit distressed at dead babies but soon moved past it emotionally. I think. I at least get some inkling of what the spleen does through the small placards ("The entire volume of your blood travels through your heart in one minute") but am glad she didn't ask much about it because I still don't quite "get it".


We head out of town and miss any traffic.


I attempt to avoid my brother by a pretend cell phone conversation. Kidding, kidding.

Labels: birlo, consumerism, roadtrip, Sophie

This evening we took a drive to Aberdeen for dinner. It was a beautiful day, all day.


Ralph likes to take the logging / industrial route. Believing it faster, or perhaps motivated by all the different places that service different kinds of burly equipment and engines? Here is an example of the "new" transit bus. I don't remember when I last saw the old ass-'n'-piss colored versions I used to ride on.


I was idly trying to get a picture of a speeding motorcyclist when Ralph burst out laughing at the "b'goyl" (his term for a creature that's sex cannot easily be determined). I'd wager my photograph proves, or at least indicates, female-ness.


In the car Nels sings a song from The Little Mermaid, which he loves (mermaids in general, and yes this includes the Disney version).


I wish to bring you here, dear reader - no, not to this humble dwelling but to the greenness and richness of the air. It's green green green everywhere.


Aberdeen "boasts" one Thai restuarant and it's got great service and decent grub. They give you free refills even on the heavenly (and sugary, and fatty) Thai iced tea! My kids fucked with their food and tried to eat just the crispy shell off the spring rolls! You suck, kids!


Ralph demonstrates to Nels how to do a "Pepsi shooter" with a straw.


As we return three movies to three different movie rental joints, evening starts to fall. My favorite time of the day. WAL-MART!


Ralph catches a nice little picture involving the curious little popcorn / coffee shop. "I want popcorn!" yells one of the little ones, having dined primarily on peanut sauce and little else. Nope.


While taking above photo Ralph is accosted by street youths who lead us to "Tag Alley", an designation in downtown Aberdeen specifically sequestered for legal grafitti work. There were some lovely and free-spirited, colorful works he shot photos of. I'll let him tell you more.


Outside Swansons ("your neighborhood grocery store") we read the flyers. Some things are pretty gut-damned important. What is he / she wearing around the neck right now, I wonder?


An attempt by Swansons to compete with Walmart's assy, obnoxious signs and banners. I think it's working well, don't you? P.S. very decent selection, as it turns out. No more driving to Top Food & Drug twice a week.


Once home Ralph does the day's dishes while I blog. Kids continue to give us the balls. And tomorrow is Monday, whee!

Labels: family life, food, HQX, PNw

Today I bought a pound each of sunflower seeds and cranberry beans, two pounds of Thompson midget (dwarf? miniature? I can't remember) raisins, two pounds of mung beans, two pounds of extra-thick rolled oats, four figs (at Sophie's request), and four pieces of organic black licorice.

The total came to $5.54 for this food.

I am learning things daily now that I don't cook meat. For instance - did you know that when you get those big sprouts on your salad or on top of your noodle bowl - the whitish yellow ones - they are usually mung bean sprouts? Did you know these beans are grown predominantly in China and in the states, Oklahoma (another punch to the groin of any 100-mile diet ambition)? Did you know even though I now have mung beans I will never make daal, because it's tasteless ass?

My children are accompanying me on learning new ways to buy, store, and prepare food. Today I was pleased Sophie recognized the figs she likes: fully 1/2 of the bulk food available at The Marketplace are things I have never tried! Some things I have and found worthless (carob, bee pollen, any kind of "natural" refined-sugar substitute), many others I am slowly learning the skills to prepare. But as I more earnestly throw myself into preparing delicious, nutritious, environmentally-friendly and economical food I really hope my children don't view these foods - as I did and sometimes do - as tasteless "health" staples that lack flavor and texture (P.S. extra big "fuck you" to carob, I am not interested in losing my bigotry there). I like the idea my children really will know what these foods are, even if they don't care for some of them. Fuck you carob. Again.

I am determined not to go overboard and invest in any fancy-assed veggie accoutrement and yes, that includes not even buying large, inexpensive glass jars to hippie-display my beans and grains in (by the way, beans really are beautiful - I can see the temptation). Right now anyway we have a hierarchy of what's needed for our food and sundry. Our kitchen is lacking in general dishes, especially plates: we have a grand total of seven. Payday on Monday and Ralph has (sort of) given me permission to buy a few place settings. Whee!

Labels: food, grocery opus, homesteading, vegetarianism

Nels has been playing with a half dozen 25-cent cars I bought him in Port Townsend shortly before we moved. They are one of the few toys that are his - I'm trying not to feel guilty that at age five and almost-three my children share a room.

But their life, their sharing, seem to go well. Sophie is sad the other morning because I tell her to let Nels play with cars and please don't just grab them out of his hands. Stung, she tearfully subsides and watches. Nels turns to her: "Do you want orange?" (Lord help me never remember the way Nels is prone to pronounce this adjective: "or-ents") he asks, holding one out. Sophie takes the car and, overcome with gratitude, silently hugs him.

Businesslike, Nels asks me, "Do you want green?" and gives me a green car. That's all settled, then - he flips one of his cars over and says, "This one's on fire". ("fi-wre", in Nels' parlance).

Glad we got that all figured out - a flaming death-trap of a car.

He is also obsessed with Scissor Sisters' "Take Your Mama" and constantly asks me to play it and hold him while he sings it. He heard the song once and instantly fell in love. It's growing on me, too.

Labels: music, Nels, Sophie

I would have never have anticipated how going vegetarian would disrupt my family in any way, but it turns out a five year old child notices a lot of stuff and asks a lot of questions. First there was last night, where as we passed the fridge case of hotdogs et cetera I commented - out loud, but almost to myself - I would no longer buy those products as I am a vegetarian.

Sophie asks: "Why?"
Mama (pause): "Because they are mean to the animals before they kill him." (our family is OK with the killing and my children know this is how it goes down).
Sophie, looking intently into my face with wide-kitten eyes: "Are you nice to animals?"
Mama (nervously): "Well, I guess."
Sophie, pause, then: "I will be nice to animals too."
Mama (amused): "Oh, you're going to be a vegetarian too?"
Sophie (finite): "Yes."

Very tender, no? THREE MINUTES LATER as we pass the bacon Ralph makes a comment about bacon and Sophie goes nuts:

Sophie (wild, scrabbing motions with her claws): "Bacon bacon I love bacon so much it's so good! I want some bacon!"
Mama (laughing): "Oh! You just told me you were a vegetarian now."
Sophie, stunned: "Bacon isn't meat!" (betrayal, confusion in her eyes)
Mama: "Yes it is."
Sophie (after a beat): "Bacon is the only meat I eat."

Now how many adult vegetarians have said the same thing?

And today, on the drive home from school - the issue of McDonalds, which has become an issue since we moved here and was not one before:

Sophie, smiling coyly: "Daddy, I see it."
Ralph: "Oh, McDonalds?"
Sophie: "Yeah, we should go there!" (As though Ralph had just suggested it!)
Ralph: "You know, I don't really like their food. It makes me feel sick. I liked their food when I was little but I don't anymore."
Sophie: "Oh, daddy. That's just pretend!"
Ralph: "What's pretend?"
Sophie: "Real life is not the like movies, daddy." (oddly, astutely, referring to Fast Food Nation, although we have not given one lecture on the subject but she did watch the film with us).
Ralph: "Unless it is a documentary."
Sophie (condescending laughter): "Oh daddy! I was just joking."
Ralph: "If you want to go, find someone to take you, baby."
Sophie: "It makes Mama sick, too. I know! Grandpa can take me to McDonalds!!!"

A few minutes later at home she is sitting down with Nels and I. "Thank you for lunch," she tells me as she tucks in (Sophie's pronunciation of the word is more like "lunkchs" and I will be very sad when she pronounces it correctly). She pauses, soup up to her lips. "Is this a nice lunch?"

I don't need to elaborate further. This discussion is not one I chose for us but Sophie has grasped the import of my lifestyle change and I'm not sure what to tell her. I am not going to give her a fussy, holier-than-thou vegetarian tirade. Absolutely as a parent it is my choice to not bring certain foods into my home. I mean that is our job; left to their own our children might ask for a steady diet of popcorn, candy and ice cream if we let them. My concern is their accidental misplacement of my moral code as their own and any time this threatens I get nervous, with good reason or without I do not know.

Tonight I made two kinds of vegetarian calzones (recipe pending) and the kids ate up. I know I'm feeding them properly (even well-meaning friends and family have immediately been asking me, "Are you finding your kids protein sources?" I believe because their is an age-old Western bias that being veggie means you are exposing yourself to weakness and disease) I just don't want them to mistake my preference and choices for theirs.

Hopefully in short order our changes will seem less novel and we can go on like we usually do, existing and cooking and living our lives as fun as we have them.

Labels: food, grocery opus, newness, Sophie

Today as I walked down the hallway of the YMCA I saw a boy - a man - I went to school with. I hadn't seen him in thirteen years or so, I'd imagine - I don't remember him being at the reunion a couple years ago. But he and I recognized one another right away and said "Hi" quite warmly. Then he said, "Is this your son?" looking at Nels (Sophie was in the showers) and I said, "Yes," and the man said, "He's cute!" A beat later: "He'll be a little boy genius like his mom!"

I said thanks - taken aback but pleased - and goodbye. I held Nels' hand and we walked into the locker room and I tried to think of why it was nice to hear such a compliment - for myself and my child. Much of it was just the honest-to-goodness nice feeling of seeing someone you haven't seen in a long time, and you both recognize one another and share a warm rapport. But another part of it was to be noticed besides someone I am responsible for cleaning for and feeding.

But who did he notice? That girl he knew - and did not even know all that well - does she exist? I used to be a person but there has been some fragmentation and now that I'm living where I grew up, I sense it all the more strongly. Yes, I went off to college and married but that wasn't it. At some point my responsibilities ate my life up, devoured me, for a brief but intense bout I was in the belly of the whale. Then I got back above water but I'd changed while I was under. I don't know how I changed exactly but in any case, whatever dreams or ambitions I had before I'd drowned in child-making and -raising were long gone and left in their place was a fulltime job of cleaning, cooking, worrying, bothering, fussing, and above all loving - loving intensely and selfishly. I added sewing and writing and housekeeping to the list and daily wish I had something more but not sure what that "more" would be.

Maybe another thing I'm seeing is that returning and seeing classmates and childhood peers, many of whom have children now and I sense a divide in them and who they were, too. I know this divide can and may exist whether or not we've started families; I don't quite know how to bridge it. Except to say hello and to reconnect; to extend a hand and a smile and at least know that this is one reason people are often too scared to return to where they grew up.

Labels: random

So, I've decided to go vegetarian. Sort of. And no, I don't mean "except for bacon".

It's been a long time coming. I don't want to bore you with my reasons but my decision was precipitated by watching Fast Food Nation the other night and it's my simple truth that eating meat - as it's produced by most methods in this country - is just fucking vile. Vile for us, the animals, the planet, everyone involved except maybe those who make good, good money in the industry.

Now, here comes my "sort of" - if I can find meat that is raised healthily and killed "humane"ly (yes, there really are better and worse ways for these animals to die) - I will gladly purchase this meat and cook it, with my blessings. Since I don't know what we have here - even at the lovely Michael's Meats in Aberdeen - I am cooking vegetarian until I can buy into a pig or whatever! This is basically a COUNTDOWN TO BACON, but meanwhile I'm going to be pretty damn busy planning food for my family.

Because this makes my already challenging cooking-from-scratch-for-four (plus guests) difficulties a little more... tricky. Here's how I was raised: you assemble dinner by cooking a meat, a "starch", a vegetable. Sure, I cook vegetarian fare now and again but it's a lark, a money-saver, not something I do daily. When I cooked vegetarian food more often it was still "assembled" around soy, usually tofu. And I don't want to tofu-out our asses as I've seen many a vegan / vegetarian do; studies are finding out nor should we rely extensively on processed "meat"-like products to live a vegetarian lifestyle.

Last night we had spaghetti squash with butter, home-canned tomato sauce and parmesan cheese, roasted garbanzo beans, and a simple cucumber salad. I was thrilled, and I mean thrilled, to see my children eat this meal happily (and not trouble about the fact there has been no meat in this house for a few days), but it's not unexpected either; I've been cooking lots of vegetables and cooking from scratch ever since they were born. My husband supports my choice as well. And damn, anyone in my family is free to go pursue their meat-laden dreams somewhere else if they'd like to.

For now: making a list - which I shall soon post here - of this week's menu and grocery list. P.S. I do not have the grocery money for this yet! Wish me luck.

Labels: food, grocery opus, homesteading

Today we attempt the 3/4 mile walk from our house to my parents'. Sophie has, snuggled under her quilted coat, a book we need to return to Grandma. I call ahead, of course; I plan to call ahead before every visit, Lord help me make it happen.

Nels refuses to put his hood on. I cajole, he doesn't want it. Halfway through the walk and he is soaked. His hair is wet and water runs down his face. "My eye," he mourns, wiping his fist across his forehead. I put his hood up and his hand grasps mine. For the duration of the walk he is silent, shuffling and snuffling along. He is not crying but I know he is cold and sad. He makes it through. We arrive at my parents' house and he instantly strips down, takes off his "meatballs" (overalls) and his voice is back; he sings and hums along to me.

Moving in is going slowly. But that's because I'm being picky about it. I have decided not to have things squirreled away in attics and shop spaces, things that then when you have to move you are totally pissed and humiliated you still are hanging on to them. So my closets are still empty and lots is in the laundry area / garage awaiting my yea or nay. My sewing room is in some kind of half-assed tearapart as I take this opportunity to winnow out some fabric stash I no longer need.

Today: Sophie to school, Nels home for a nap, Kelly to her sewing room happy as a clam.

Labels: Nels, rain, Sophie

Today dawns with the type of lovely, sunny, still clear weather that is only recognizable for what it is if you've been away from it long enough to acclimatize to something else.

In a few hours my husband and I meet to sign a lease for our new place. Finally. A preview:


The front bedroom, for the kids. Sophie has tried to negotiate for a room of her own. Sorry. Mama's sewing machine babies get their room, at the expense of my actual children.


Finally, a bedroom with some color to it! P.S. - the blinds actually work in this house! I checked them all.


Sophie goofs off in the living room. No, I did not take Nels on a walk-through - there was a maintenance dude there doing work with sharp tools and such. I shudder to think.


Random, peeling / scrappy paint, here and there and everywhere.


Ralph hates the tile job in the laundry room. Meanwhile I think holy shit, I have a laundry room again, in two days!


On our way out - purple house across the street! Note Ass-tros, facing off.


During our wait for celebratory hot chocolate, Sophie has a meltdown. All-told she was a fabulous house-inspector, engaging Maintenance Man Tom with small talk about Port Townsend and at every drawer opened and closet discovered, enthusing, "This is great!"

Only a couple more days. A microcosm to myself - well, almost to myself - again.

Labels: gratitude, HQX, newness, Sophie

Today:

It rained, and then had that weird ominous balmy warm weather with gusts of wind, and now we have some kind of storm.

Tonight:

I'm going bowling with my family and our friends Bart and Ally.

My dad is curled up on the couch very sick.

I'm in a black mood today. Correction: I was in a black mood.

This morning as my children and I came downstairs, me with a huge pile of laundry on one hip and a wailing Nels holding my other hand, I heard the distinctive sound of my daughter vomitting on the floor. You know, you know what the sound is split seconds before you identify it? For a confused moment you're thinking, Did my child pee her pants? but you already know the answer is "No", so your mind then moves on to ... damnit. Puke.

Luckily we taught Sophtie to be a champion puker long ago so she was straightened out in no time (a quick bath, two pigtails so she could vomit unhindered). And life continued on, badly. It seemed stuffy and unwelcome in the family home - like my parents no longer want us (specifically, me) here; like we all need to get out of the house but they really don't all that much so I do (sick child and all) - a visit to the library, not so bad.

Other lowlights: trouble with Ralph. Making playdough for my children's school. This fucking sucked. My brother - saintly - helped me. It involved a lot of mess and a lot of kneading and I didn't even get anything to eat out of that. Oh, and of course my daughter puking, again and again. This afternoon as I dispassionately hold back her hair, "Yeah, that looks like your ice cream and peanut butter." She pukes in the car while waiting for drive-through coffee - "luckily" in my husband's coat.

On the other hand, this evening my husband, mom, and I watched Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan and during the naked hotel / fight scene my mom and I were laughing so hard, and for so long, it was painful.

Let's hope tomorrow continues on in that vein. Okay?

Labels: family life, film, FOO, Grazdma, hilarity, illness, Sophie

Today I have a few moments to myself; my parents journey up to Lacey for a medical test, my husband leaves for work, and my children are still sleeping. Shower, dress. Cup of coffee. Pack the gym bag. Boil some eggs for breakfast. Soak some beans for dinner. Get the kids' clothes together. Take laundry upstairs (we are currently hustling our laundry up to our room as fast as possible in vain efforts to obfuscate just how much laundry we do). Hang drip-dry clothes. Make beds. By nine AM I'm wishing I was having a vacation instead.

Labels: homesteading

That about sums it up. Life in the village, today: my mom and I did not workout together since she needed to be at the Y at 8 (for volleyball) and my kids slept. I motivated myself by buying a new album (soundtrack for The Departed, as it turns out all Old Fart Music) and taking stuff to the gym so I could shower and get cleaned up afterwards before grabbing the kids outta kidcare. Forty-five minutes on the elliptical machine at a heart rate of about 160. I feel great.

My father and I had yet another good discussion: today, his medicine, his chemo, his choice in treatments. He is currently getting what I call a conservative / aggressive treatment - they won't let him off the chemo very easily even with a (relatively) low CEA. He is hopeful tomorrow his PET scan will reveal the mass on his lung has not grown, then he will ask for a month off. "If I get a month off chemo, I may even take up running again," he says, and I know he would like nothing better. I am silent, hoping the mass hasn't grown. But he knows the drill and one thing long-term cancer survival teaches you is nothing is certain, not imminent death nor the guarantee you will survive another two months.

Another subject my dad brings up to me: his antidepressant, which my mom and he are arguing over (the doctor and my mother's POV: take it, fool!). He says, "Let me ask you something. If someone told you that you had to take a pill the rest of your life to survive, to enjoy a quality of life, would you do it?" Excuse me, is this The Matrix? We choose once, into the unknown, and there's no turning back? I answer, no, of course not. I would look into it. I would do a bit of research, find a doctor recommended by trusted sources, and ask a second opinion. And then yeah, I might take it. I don't know what he's talking about at first until he reveals this is about his Lexapro. He says in response to me, "OK, you'd seek a professional opinion. But what is your personal opinion?" I say that yeah, it seems we over-diagnose in this country. But that doesn't mean the medicine itself may not help his situation. I go put a load of laundry in and think about it, remembering when psyche meds were offered to me and I declined. I come back into the kitchen. "Dad, you're biased against this type of medication. If you had to smoke pot daily in order to eat and keep your weight up, you would. You are biased." He is silent on this and I wonder what he's thinking. The fact he brought the question to me is a good sign, at least.

Tonight we have my mother's old boss over for dinner. He's recently widowed and about four thousand years old and a real sweetheart. I watched him take about fifteen minutes to park (badly) in front of the house. I just completed a cold sesame noodle salad and my asparagus is roasting - my mom grills pineapple and marinated teriyaki steak. Ralph brings the kids down, scrubbed and in their best clothes, if not on their best behavior.

Labels: FOO, food, friends, homesteading, the bod, the Ghost of Christmas Bastard

Already we are as busy here as we were in Port Townsend. Mornings my mom and I go workout at the Y while the kids cavort in "Busy Town" (the childcare facilities there). Monday, Wednesday, and Friday Sophie goes to preschool; Thursday, Nels does. Tuesday and Thursday are Sophie's swim lessons. Every night I go to bed early, exhausted (from working out and living at my parents) and annoyed because I can't really nest the way I want to. Anyway, forget I wrote that. It's a tired story. I am lucky, I repeat goddamned lucky, to have such a great family to shore us up while we try to find a place to hang our hats.


My mom and Sophie, just before church last Sunday. Sophie has a secret. Can you guess what it is? She is not wearing panties. Before she went to church, I told my mom, "Make sure she's wearing panties." Guess when my mom found out she wasn't? During church service.


For me, to chase the blues away: a little materialism goes a long way. In this case, abovementioned DC hoodie and:


A pair of Keen shoes. The shoes are not yet broken in but soon, I will wear practically nothing else. On my feet, I mean. (hoodie and shoes courtesy of zappos.com - the closest online thing to instant gratification).


Mom and I trade off cooking each night and everyone else benefits. My brother had several helpings of my Vietnamese Sticky Chicken with Spicy Peanut Sauce.


Weekends, I sometimes cook a special breakfast. (this version is made with a cardamom-challah made locally at the Farmer's Market - open year-round here).


OK, just to prove to you how weird my family is (mostly my mom and brother), they made this "dog hair sculpture" after my mom gave Tuck his cut.


Actual dog, post-haircut. I try to be nice to him. He has "issues".

Today: my father has his nasty chemo and my brother and I try to feed him milkshakes (this went very badly) and I try to keep the kids upstairs so he can sleep.

Labels: birlo, FOO, food, Grazdma, HQX, Sophie

If you visit Los Arcos family Mexican restaurant in Hoquiam, you will find a picture of my daughter, beaming yet gripping my arm shyly as she is sung "Happy Birthday" in front of a ginormous Cinderella double-layer cake my mother made her, replete with a large Cinderella doll. Except Sophie pronounces it, and I'm not kidding, "Cingorilla". She is suddenly interested in princesses. I am trying not to hate on princesses but rather find examples of useful princesses. P.S. I am open to suggestions!


My mother bought Sophie a Mary Kate and Ashley Olson white embroidered blouse and long skirt. Yeah, you heard. But it is actually just fine - not too trampy nor barfy. Don't ask me about her pensive expression here - I have no idea. The little "glowing things" in her hair are tiny clips - my mom fixed her up before we went out.


I made Sophie a swim kit: her own Sophie-sized duffel bag (a black Nike one), a towel, small shampoo and conditioner, goggles (she had the suit and cap already), and Cliff bars (one after each swim lesson). Here was the coup de grace - my brother made her a laminated "swim kit key" with her name on side of the tag, and a pictorial and label reference for the items she needs to pack:


Get this, my brother created this off of photos I took of Sophie's exact swimsuit, etc. Now she has a waterproof tag listing her gear. Cool, huh? And yes, my brother just is that talented and available to hire except perhaps to me.


The princess hair didn't last long... (note my psoriasis - yay!)


... and the goggles were a big hit.

My brother, father, and husband did not get gifts for Sophie. But everyone had a great time (or seemed to) at the restaurant and celebration afterwards.

Labels: birthday, consumerism, FOO, party animal, Sophie

In a few minutes: the family all-out for Sophie's 5th birthday party. Yay Sophie! Yesterday she received a simply lovely birthday package from her friend Olivia (daughter to my friend Abbi):


From left to right: miso pretty gum, picture of Liv, fabulous summer fisherman hat, optical illusion book, small pewter night and dinosaur card.

Thank you, Olivia!

A few minutes ago I overheard my mom turn to my dad and angrily say, "He smells like shit. Check his ass." (referring to the dog who came in for his afternoon outside dump). 10 minutes later and I am still laughing, laughing, laughing.

Labels: birthday, FOO, friends, hilarity, random