Our trip to Portland this last weekend proved a nice episode. I took my daughter, my car, and my bike. The idyllic roadtrip feeling did not last because my bike was a bit wobbly on the car and I ditched it at our favorite li'l hippie bakery for Ralph to pick up. Despite this sense of fail the rest of the trip went well. We arrived at perfect weather, I didn't overdo it on the activities list, I made it to a dear friend's bachelor party (or actually, I made it to one part of three of said celebrations), and most fun, I saw loads of my brother and sister and we walked most everywhere.

I felt oddly disconnected from my daughter most of the weekend. This was because I spent a lot of time with my siblings who are grownups, and I tend to wish to relate to them in grownup fashion. In fact when I'm around grownups I'm sometimes not "present" for my children which means I start to miss them. Many other adults are amazing with my kids and very sweet, but the only real grownups who don't pull me off my kid-compass are Ralph and, to a slightly lesser extent, my mother, both of whom somehow integrate with me and the kids, and that's a good thing, and I appreciate it (best sentence ever for far too many commas).

I missed Nels and Ralph so much. Coming home to them was the most calming feeling.

Labels: birlo, jules, pdx, roadtrip, Sophie

Last night my children and I were lying on the full size bed in their room and they begged me to tell them a story - something that really happened to me. I was lying looking up at Sophie's bunk bed so I remembered one: "One time in the bus, we were driving somewhere. Billy and I were on the top bunk bed. There were three bunk beds: Grandma and Grandpa's, mine, then Billy's. We were in the top one. Billy fell off and hit his head. He split the skin of his head open and we had to drive to a hospital and get him stitches."

They liked that story and talked about it a bit (Nels has had stitches, too). They asked for another story. I was still thinking about my brother so I told them: "One time when we were pretty young we were up at the Mason Lake cabin. Billy and I were in the water. I caught a snake that was swimming, and I gave it to him, and it bit him."

Sophie said, "Why does all the bad luck happen to Uncle Billy?"

Nels said, "Tell us another story."

Now I was on a roll. "One time when we lived in California we were having a picnic with family,"* I told them, "and Billy was about to take a bite of a chip. And just as he put it to his mouth a grasshopper jumped on the chip and Billy bit the bug in half."

Nels asks solemnly, "Was the grasshopper white, or green, or pink?"

Sophie says, with authority, "It was green." And I think she was right.

* I neglected to mention to my children that all the grownups were stoned or sloppy or both.

Labels: birlo, Nels, Sophie

A couple months ago a family friend gave my kids a tupperware container of Legos which quickly became my children's favorite toy (especially Nels). Last night we bought our first new set and, late as it was by the time we got home, my children and I put it together (culminating in a very fetching garbage / recycle truck).

Most Legos these days seem to be cross-branded. - a shame, if you ask me. Not only because I dislike branding in general (it encourages children to drop imagination in their pursuit of toys or clothes they might want and instead simply thirst for anything with Hannah Montana on it, etc) but because these newer Lego kits have many over-specialized parts. The fun in Legos is putting together the specified model once - then you get to take it apart and build your own creations with the blocks. What other use does a Wiggles Aussie Safari Buddy Koala - fully molded with two parts snapping together - have, anyway? Old school Legos were blocks in al colors and sizes, plain and simple.

And let me tell you, they weren't boring. I swear as a child my brother and I played mostly with dirt and rocks - and Legos, which seemed like the one toy my parents would cheerfully invest in for birthdays. In the Fisher clan we joke about my brother lying on his side (in week-old socks usually) raking through his red plastic box (I can see it in my mind - I wonder where that treasure trove of old got to?) for seemingly hours on end. The avidity with which he and I enjoyed these toys was relived in my children last night as they fully participated in every aspect of construction, eyes wide and hands darting for the tiny, specific pieces for headlights or hydraulic lifts.

Oh - and Nels slept with the Lego kit manual last night; even bringing it from his bed to ours in the middle of the night.

Labels: birlo, consumerism, Nels

(Apologies that this is, in fact, a commercial. Thanks MF!)

Christmas was good this year. I even had a cat-nap - can't remember the last time I did that. Great food, good company, and nice, thoughtful presents. In fact, there are only - out of all the gifts that came across my stoop this year - two teeny tiny items that will be moving on from my house. It's not what my brother gave my family if you were wondering, because, you know, he didn't. Get us anything. It's the fact I'm so goddamned controlling no one buys my kids Barbie or plastic hoo-ha or anything they aren't sure I'm OK with. On one level I feel like some kind of present-Nazi about this but, yet, light as a feather and guilt free when looking at the high quality comic books, handmade clothes, coloring pencils, free-trade dry goods, cotton kitchen towels, dye-cast cars from antique stores, and locally-bought t-shirts that now grace our home. Also, more Strangers with Candy. Yesss!

I want to stress that I really am grateful for the loving friends and family but of course I play favofites: I've got a soft spot for the a homemade "Double Deuce" shirt from my husband. It truly was the craziest - the Swayziest - Christmas I've had so far!

Labels: birlo, holidays, Ralph, swayze

Ralph took a photo walk this morning; he's been checking out a camera from the college.

Yesterday didn't go so well. Sure, it started out great. I'd planned a brief Portland roadtrip with Sophie to visit my brother (and maybe my sister too, if the schedule worked out). I woke very excited about a sunny-weather trip. I spent the morning with my kids (both off school for Professional's Day) cleaning house and giving them their Spring Cleaning, a fun little ritual where we clip nails, clean ears, and do an extra squeaky-clean full body overhaul, the three of us splashing in the tub. Sophie brought out her two green vinyl suitcases and we packed. She rattled off the itinerary for our trip to see Uncle Billy. We went to a six-kid playdate at A.'s while I helped two girlfriends with Halloween sewing.

Then, leaving A.'s house just a tad bit later in my schedule - my car wouldn't start. And in a, it's-not-just-the-battery-nor-even-the-starter way. I got a ride into town and decided to feel in despair. My dad came back out with me to A.'s and we confirmed the diagnosis that I was kind of screwed.

By 4 PM I was still in Hoquiam (not happily cavorting with my brother), having paid most of my Portland budget to No No's Tows. The roadtrip was scrapped. I had a hard time telling Sophie this because I was upset, she was upset, and I didn't want her to "read" more upset than there needed to be.

At about 4:30 things slowly began to improve. The van - after lots of helpful suggestions and understanding plus phone calls from A.'s house - had made it to our trusted auto shop. My mom, kids and I went to our favorite cafe and I had some fresh coffee. My mom bought me a few homebaked cinnamon rolls to take home. The waitress at the cafe brought in hand-me-downs she'd reserved for Nels (OK, that's just so sweet). Mom and I made a date to meet up for some sock-knitting tips at the LYS the next day.

I headed home, thankful for kind friends and family, knowing Ralph would be there soon to meet me and try to cheer me up.

Labels: birlo, letdown, pdx, roadtrip, sewing, Sophie, the Ghost of Christmas Bastard

When you spend your time with a series of mentally non-challenging and thankless (as in, you get directly acknowledged for around ten percent of your) tasks - a huge, bottomless series that swallows you up - it feels one thousand times worse when you screw up. Because it's not like you fail in something that was really difficult or time-consuming or even Big Picture Important. You screw up on some tiny thing that most people might think, "What's your problem? Pull it together!" or maybe, "Who cares?" about.

In this case I'm speaking of Picture Day, which is today at Sophie's school. So for either Ralph or I this involves filling out a form and writing a check and dressing the child and making sure they're clean, presentable, and / or cute. Well, I completely forgot. So this morning Sophie went without money, without a form, and dressed "like a boy" (her words; sometimes she chooses this costume) which included a hand-me-down camouflaged longsleeve t-shirt. When I got back from dropping her off - actually ahead of the timeline, thanks - I checked my mail and discovered my error (thanks, GCal, for being on the ball!). This meant going back to the school with abovementioned details sorted out. The one neat thing about this annoying, small-potatoes quasi-waste of my time was seeing my daughter light up when I arrived. Not just happy to see me as she put her hand trustingly in mine, but I saw that she viewed my surprise visit not as evidence I screwed up (as an older child might) but purely as evidence that I take good care of her. Awwww.

Today I - yet again - watched a friend's child for a few hours. This was a shift from 11:30 to 2:30 and I took the child C. along with Nels for a long walk to a local cafe and back. C. is loved especially by Nels and my husband. She is a very sweet, social, direct child. She has a few quirks that make me laugh, one of which is that most of the time her speech is like the Weekend Update guest suffering from voice immodulation; the other is that when she's upset about something she descends into a sort of silent hangdog standing / crumpling / threatening-to-cry / series of events that is quite distinct (my children scream or do this crazy phoney hyperventilating thing which is filling me with rage even as I talk about it) and I only notice it after a few minutes when I realize she hasn't spoken for a while. Nels loves, simply loves it when I have extra children to care for. Besides some kitten-torture (today Harris was banished outside our entire duration of in-home with C.; one of the reasons we went on the walk was to allow our Regal Prince his indoor naps) Nels and his (lady-)friends get along wonderfully.

Tonight's family events: Abbi's fingerling potatoes, our first Rifftrax (LOTR:FOTR), (hopefully) my brother over for dinner again.

Quote of the day: Sinead O'Connor, referencing Britney Spears:

"I think to attack someone as a mother is very dangerous. I would say that's what puts a young girl on a precipice which is very, very dangerous, in my opinion. Some people may end up really regretting the way they're treating her."

Labels: birlo, film, Mama's crazy, school

OK.

So, today was weird.

Today was Nels' first day at preschool. This represents the first time since becoming a parent, ever, I have had both children at school and time to myself. That alone - and saying goodbye to my littlest one with him barely acknowledging I was leaving and knowing it was the first of many goodbyes for the two of us - was disconcerting enough. It was on the drive home in my very, very quiet truck that I thought, simply, "I miss my children," and finally a few tears materialized.

But today was so busy (making a pie, running flyers off and delivering them, fielding calls from the school Board president with school-commencement stuff, grocery-shopping, sewing something for my brother and working on my own project, making breakfast lunch and dinner and orchestrating coffee and cookies for my sewing group, collecting supplies for my sewing group, dropping school supplies for Suse, picking up both kids, biking biking biking, taking them out for ice cream then home and making food for my family while cleaning the kitchen and Nels fell asleep and I had to call my brother to do a coffee pickup and put a sleeping Boy back in the bike trailer and bike some more...), so anyway, it was busy in that I'm-going-to-forget-something-important way. As far as I know, I didn't forget anything. But I also didn't get any time to process any of my feelings.

At a little after 5 PM, mere moments after Ralph burst in from his bike ride home to take our children, I checked in a the library where my sewing night was scheduled. And as I expected, no one was there. After all I had put only a single, solitary flyer up. And even as I felt sadness for a low attendance, I felt distinctly stupid for not bothering to advertise (that's just who I am). My time to myself (ironing fabric and laying out a pair of pants for Nels) was short-lived; my friend Jennifer showed right on the money. And we proceeded to talk, catch up on the day (she's running for HQX mayor and there's always something to hear!), have a snack, and finally start working on her machine. At about the point she and I were getting into good sewing theory, it started to go a little crazy.

First off, a young woman came downstairs to see us and started talking to me with some degree of familiarity. I didn't know her and was confused she had nothing to sew with; but when she introduced herself as M. - a fellow Hoquiamite blogger, artisan, and zine contributor - I was immediately flung into that good 15 minute experience of disorientation common when you meet someone you've exchanged many emails with and have prematurely formed a mental picture of. Despite my disorientation and quick pleasure at having an IRL meeting, the three of us fell into conversation, comparing notes on Hoquiam, Hoquiamites, and homesickness for previous climes. M. handed me a present: a brilliant little tutorial book on making sock creatures. Her boyfriend joined us and we talked a bit about local sewing machine shops (not many).

Just when I'd gotten over meeting someone new (yet known) it got a bit stranger - a full hour after my sewing tutorial was to begin, some boisterous women started trickling into the room. They had sewing machines but I could sense they weren't there for me. They were all talking at once, mostly to each other, but one of the ringleaders finally made it clear to my tiny, overworked birdbrain that they were a group of Pagans who met regularly to sew together. They had mistakenly showed up a day earlier than their scheduled library slot. It was very odd for me to have thought I would be teaching a subject only to have it first interrupted and then discussed amongst people who had no use for me. However, I was glad to meet these women, I learned their names, I told them I'd be interested in helping them sew if they needed it tonight or in any future iteration, and I gave myself up to the increasing surrealism of the evening.

Ralph and the kids showed up at 8 o'clock to pick me up and I felt my first pang of regret. I knew my husband would be pleased to see these half dozen students of mine sewing away at full swing. Indeed, he sported a satisfied little grin as he entered the room to ask if I wanted to stay longer. Since the ladies didn't seem very interested in my help, I asked Ralph to load up my sewing materials and invited Jen over for peach pie and despite her busy schedule and state of minor sleep deprivation she agreed.

As Jen and I laughed in the car ride to my house, I felt such gladness that I'd moved back. As with a few other friends here I was finding my relationship with familiars from my childhood would not be formed solely of fond memories and anecdotal brief get-togethers but instead a full continuum of life experience as it unfolds in the present. Jen and I had just spoken on the phone days earlier and before that, only a few days before; our children were playing together these days, and our lives were starting to know of one another with the ease and fellowship of a comfortable reunion.

We got to my house and my children enfolded Jen in greetings and hugs (she is the only person besides Ralph and I who can understand every word Nels utters) and then, finally, the coup de grace - the largest spider I have ever seen in my life, clutching itself menacingly on my kitchen floor and throwing long shadows (I am not shitting you how big this thing is; my brother is currently on his way over to bear witness). My daughter made instant and expert capture, a few of us shook off our revulsion, I served the pie, and we laughed some more.

And with the evening drawing to a close and a very full day spent, I say goodnight.

Labels: birlo, friends, HQX, Ralph, sewing

My kids cuddle each other and the rest of us more than you would believe possible. Yes, it's awesome.


A rather blurry photo but does anyone have any questions as to why I am incessantly pinching her bum? Nels is trying to read.


The Princess looks alert, but he's actually quite Pink-Eyed and lacking in coffee! This was a capital "E" Emergency and we rectified it at once.


Like an elderly couple, we rely on Ralph for most of the driving.


Speaking of elderly, my mom turned 58 and we took her out to lunch (my treat and it broke our budget). This dessert was called a "melting chocolate cake" and it was divine.


I picked up some yummy and tender romaine. I love garden-fresh lettuce - drenched in dressing, yes.


We got a new kitty. "As you know." Sophie held him on the drive home and he was quite calm.


Sleepover with Billy! Can you feel the love? The kitty felt it too.


Harris, newly named (Billy helped) and looking - dare I say it? - wise.


That morning Nels helped me make...


Bagels! Recipe and methods coming soon in the zine.


Sophie attempts to swipe one, early, like the Bagel Weasel she is.


This photo disguises the very, very threadbare nature of her suit. She continues to love and thrive at swimming.

I enjoyed this quote I read on Molly's MySpace today:

The fact is, what I hated in the Church was that I hated in society. Namely, authoritarians. Power freaks. Rigid dogmatists. Those greedy, underloved, undersexed twits who want to run everything. While the rest of us are busy living--busy tasting and testing and hugging and kissing and goofing and growing--they are busy taking over. Soon their sour tentacles are around everything: our governments, our economies, our schools, our publications, our arts and our religious institutions. Men who lust for power, who are addicted to laws and other unhealthy abstractions, who long to govern and lead and censor and order and reward and punish; those men are the turds of Moloch, men who don't know how to love, men who are sickly afraid of death and therefore are afraid of life: they fear all that is chaotic and unruly and free-moving and changing-- they fear nature and fear life itself, they deny life and in so deny God. They are presidents and governors and mayors and generals and police officers and chairmen-of-the-boards. They are crafty cardinals and fat bishops and mean old monsignor masturbators. They are the most frightened and most frightening mammals who prowl the planet; loveless, anal-compulsive control-freak authoritarians, and they are destroying everything that is wise and beautiful and free. And the most enormous ironic perversion is how they destroy in the name of Christ who is peace and God who is love.

- Tom Robbins - Another Roadside Attraction

Labels: birlo, birthday, family life, FOO, food geekery, Nels, Ralph, Sophie

I finally caught the cold that my brother, my mom, and my son have all suffered through. It is manifesting for me in a congested head cold and very stiff, raw, (but not painful) throat. I am luckier than the rest of them - so far. Ralph has sternly admonished me to rest.

Nevertheless, last night I couldn't sleep easily thinking about my husband's roadtrip today (he, Nels, and my brother are going to Portland for a couple errands and to drop the Princess off for house-hunting). In true Fisher / Hogaboom style we'd planned on packing food so that A. they wouldn't have to take the time to find a place, park, and dine; and B. we could save a little money (my brother also loves this last as he is feeling anxious about upcoming expenses). Of course, Billy had to add to the fare: a carrot (I shit you not, that's all he had). Ralph made up some roasted garbanzo beans last night and was planning on stuffing the last half-loaf of french bread (made fresh Thursday) in the basket and calling it good.

I didn't want Ralph under-fed and over-caffeinated so this morning before the boys left I'd made them a half dozen oven-fresh pita for the beans (I am rockin' the pita these days), garam masala tofu, hard-boiled eggs, a few slabs of blueberry and strawberry sour cream coffee cake, adding a few apples and ice water. And the jewel of the lunch: I gave to them our one perfectly-ripe peach I'd picked up from the Olympia Farmers' Market and kept shrined in its own paper bag, untouched, for days. This thing practically peeled itself and I took a tiny taste this morning - perfect, spicy, melt-in-the-mouth.

After the boys left I cleaned up around the house while Sophie played Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on the Playstation. What a child she is! She can play and save video games (far better than I; I have no interest however), clean her room, brush her teeth, mess with my iPod playlist (her current favorite is Dolly Parton's "Touch Your Woman" - Jules, I know you're going to appreciate that), and make rather sophisticated suggestions for the day's plans. As we left for the library she double-checked her book list and donned her apparel for the day - in her words, "Panties, then pants, a shirt, and the frog costume", this latter being a lovely but well-worn hooded towel / froggy-eyed piece handed down from a stylish PT friend. I have also secured a sushi date with my mother for 12:30 where Sophie can further practice with chopsticks.

What else I'd like to do today: take the girl to the new Harry Potter movie. She's still little enough she consents to sit in my lap and I can smell her and hold her close. Nels and Sophie smell like their father (yes, that's a good thing) which amazes me because they are different people. Their intertwined dearnesses are all part of some kind of conspiracy those three have that keeps me in loving bondage to them for most my waking hours.

Labels: birlo, family life, food, Ralph, roadtrip, Sophie

Yes, as I type this the cat is running about around my feet and being cute. Last night the kitten turned from the docile, tame creature it had advertised itself as to, well, more of a kitten, and that includes claws and teeth and general randomness.

I really have to give a shout-out to Ralph for what he did yesterday when we brought the little kitty home. My husband had a date with a friend which he ended up being late for because he gave our new pet a painstaking, tender, very long flea-bath. He even used tweezers to remove some of the fleas, as well as a fine toothed comb. The little guy was really suffering and when the flea shampoo hit his fur the parasites started biting him. Ralph said the kitty was bleeding at the neck where the fleas attacked! The kitten seemed to feel so much better after he was dry and flea-free. It was clear he felt his situation was much improved.

The most astounding thing happened last night. I had called the Princess and was blah-blah-blahing about our kitty and he told me he was sick. Then I found out he was rather sick; a very painful sore throat. I asked - ibuprofin? throat gargles? honey and lemon? and soon realized Billy would rather just be sick, and plug along, then pause to take care of himself. You have to understand my brother is likely to have sat inside his apartment - or worse, gone out to do stuff with friends - looking like a diseased rat monkey. Even though his suffering was likely viral I convinced him to come over and let me take care of him.

My husband cut his man-date short and brought Bart along to pick Billy up. I convinced Billy to have some homemade soup and rolls, let me make him tea with honey and fresh lemon. And he stayed over and everything! In the morning I made bagels, an omelet (fresh thyme from Bart's garden), and blueberries from my mom's garden.

I really do like helping people. It is no trouble at all and when I don't want to help or take care of people, I don't. I was glad Billy let me take care of him a bit; it was fun and nice to spend time with him. And so far, none of us seem to have caught whatever disease he has.

Labels: birlo, kitty

with a very important announcement! And yes, it's kitten-related.

Today was kind of a busy day. I was out in the early morning to pick up my brother (who I'm now calling Princess) and head out to visit our parents in Pacific Beach. While there my mom treated us to a very tasty burger stand - they had not only veggie burgers but spicy black bean burgers! Yay and thank you! - and then headed home around 1 PM. I dropped my brother off then headed to the salon for a haircut and color; something I've always found so boring in past sessions but I've come to enjoy my time with my stylist Traci very much. From there I directly came home, loaded kids and their snack into car, and journied to the Y for Sophie's swim lesson (additional news flash - yesterday a kid - not mine! - vomited into the pool and there was a mass evacuation), then hit KITTEN ISLAND, aka a very funky old house in Cosi with four friendly kitten creatures who tried to act like winsome orphans for our benefit.

Yes, you heard me. KITTEN ISLAND. This is the magical place where kittens climb on you and rest and look cute and you think about taking two instead of one. By the way, it had been a number of years since I'd had a kitten and I've forgotten things about them. Like they can't jump up to your knee even on a low sofa so they climb it. Like they are incredibly trusting to new people. Like they can hide anywhere apparently (this one is doing so as I write this).

The kitten is, we believe, male. The kitten is stripey and has grey and white eyeliner. The kitten doesn't have a name; yes, I have taken pictures and will post them soon. The kitten got a flea bath before the kitten's paws touched the floor of my house. I also told the kitten I was sorry to take him from his brothers and sisters. Then I said, "But that's what happens to kittens..." and the male of the couple whom we were adopting from nodded gently and said soberly, "That's life."

Let that be the last sober and sad reflection towards our new family member at Casa del Hogaboom.

Welcome, kitten!

Labels: birlo, family life, pets

Because I'm hosting a "little" get-together on Friday and it is the first time I've invited more than a few people into my house. Suddenly I realize I feel like my house looks freakishly bare (it is), I need to go buy more dishes (I do) and build a firepit (I don't, I'm just weird), and I know there's no way I can figure out stuff for the attending children to do (P.S. my own children play games like, "Guess Whose Clothes These Are?" which is my daily ploy - and it works! - to have them help me with laundry folding and putting away).

I'm just hoping a willing host family, a clean house, and lots of good food is good enough for my friends; I'm sure it is. P.S. I think I might reserve the services of some kind of clown / balloon-blowing / stripper person in the yard and hope we don't have rain and if just one thing goes wrong I will hide in a closet crying.


It's summer in my mom's yard which is a beautiful time of year. Ralph and I were married about this time (early September) and had the reception at my parents' (which is the house of my great-grandparents); I remember the quasi-unruly garden being in full bloom and lovely. I remember being caught on tape revealing I was wearing Friday panties (or whatever day it was).

Tonight, this was odd: my brother is going for a trip until late August to visit friends and his girlfriend (in CA) and he kindly accepted a dinner invitation at my house. This evening after we ate I thought perhaps I'd been smoking crack when he actually hinted for a hug before he left. I assume now that he's planning on dying in a train derailment or perhaps he's eloping, never to return.

In some ways I think my children have brought a lot more demonstrative love to my family. After all they quite frequently hug, kiss, say, "I love you," and "I'll miss you" which is definitely not how I grew up talking with my family. In fact my brother's own hug request was after my children had hugged him, kissed him, said, "Come back soon," and "Have a good trip," not because I trained them to say those things but because we say affectionate things to one another in my family and they feel genuine and deep affection for their uncle. Even their grandpa, and propriety forbids me from writing out all the ways that mean old man barely deserves love (just kidding, I ruv roo daddy!).


She is biting with the side of her mouth to avoid her loose front tooth. That thing is crazy-assed loose.

Labels: birlo, family life, FOO, friends, garden, party animal

Roadtrip! Today my mom, brother, husband, children and I headed to Olympia - mostly for fabric and sewing purchases. My mom bought us lunch and post-shopping snack - how awesome is that? I didn't eat a snack but I did bring home some amazing cinnamon bread for Wagner's.


I just want to say that the only reason my mom took us on such a long trip - 11:30 AM to 6 PM - was that Billy was along. She likes spending time with him more than with me. Because they are dating.

I love hanging out with the FOO. Sometimes certain members are a right pain in my balls, but mostly, I like spending time with them daily if I can. Today my poor brother and I had to run and keep Nels and Sophie at bay in Music 6000 while Ralph was "grinding his axe" (i.e. playing a guitar out of tune, to try out a pedal) and headphoned. Why did we get Nels to monitor in such a valuable commodity shop? I was glad Billy was there, besides for his company.


Nels fell asleep on the drive home and still, about three hours later, is out.


Sophie napped too but, once home, stripped her shoes off and started coloring. She and Billy like taking pictures together.

(And just for my secret thrift-whore housewifery buddy - here are my recent thrift store purchases on Flickr - I really do love the inexpensive and fun thrifting to be had in HQX!)

Labels: birlo, consumerism, FOO, Grazdma, roadtrip

My brother recently told me the reason gambling is such an addictive behavior is that there is a constant potential for a random positive reward. According to him, that is the best way people learn, and that's why it's easy to "learn" to (become addicted to) gambling. I found the idea fascinating, and even though I'd never heard this until a few days ago, I now realize we have a constant potential of random reward thing going in my house. And I have actually found that my children operate well with that system. It doesn't mean they don't misbehave ever (the only systems that guarantee that result are authoritarian ones and there is a huge price to pay for those). It means we have more fun getting along in the house and every reward is a fun experience, not one the kids get to hound me about or expect.

We also have a constant system I do even better at, called you never know when Mama is going to lose it. Like today, as my son is on a two-day streak of bad behavior and by 11 AM this morning, I'm still doing well dealing with it. One small example of his particular mood of late: as I bring the kids to register Sophie for kindergarten today (lovely, clean and seemingly well-organized new buildings with cheerful staff a few blocks away - yay!) Nels decides he is upset I won't let him play outside and makes the meanest, loudest yell I have ever heard. He stomps repeatedly and yells at me over and over right in front of the door we are about to pass through. Still, I patiently crouch down, ask him not to yell at Mama, pat his head, and lead him in. I really am a good Mama. The rest of our morning goes this way: he is unreasonable and pissed and says things like, "You don't do that, Mama!" in a "big" voice and either yells or complains at most decisions I make. Finally we make it home and I am getting food out of the kitchen to make lunch (cheese quesadillas and salad w/romaine, carrots, baby corn, olives, cherry tomatoes, and Annie's Goddess Dressing) and he is tagging right next to me in the fridge trying to paw rice milk out and loudly grousing when suddenly I cannot handle the near two-day complaints and I grab him up, whack him on the shoulder, and set him on his back three feet away in the living room, telling him "I'm going to cook lunch now. You must stay out of the kitchen." He starts crying in earnest and writhes on the floor. I am instantly full of repentance but I take him up and bring him to his bed, gently. Then close the door and return to the kitchen. Sophie comes in, tearful, and says, "You are being mean to us all the time." (not even remotely true; she has been teary and fearful since she got wind she is due for three shots before school next fall) and I say in a level but multilayered Crazy Voice, "Go to your room." She runs off, crying as well. Great! Two for two.

But by some odd form of miracle they stay in their separate rooms quietly while I finish cooking and set the table. I call out, "Children, time for lunch! Please wash your hands." and by God, they do, and cheerfully.

So I guess the Random, Crazy-Assed Mama Tirade works well enough, too. P.S. Use sparingly.

Tangentially: I owe my husband an apology. Recently at a movie while we watched the trailer for Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer (in which I am inordinately pleased at how large the Surfer's smooth and gleaming package is) I lean over to Ralph and whisper, "I thought the Silver Surfer was a good guy?" to which Ralph responds, "No, he was originally sent to destroy earth by Galactis." Then I snort and say derisively, "No, Galactis was from Transformers,"* There was a confused silence as my husband thought that over, obviously questioning his Marvel 'verse knowledge, and I smugly patted myself on the back for knowing more comic / action series lore than my husband. But today I see was, in fact, correct. It was Galactis (P.S. read, "This page is currently protected..." wikidendum for a good laugh).

* Turns out I was confused with Unicron.

Labels: Alpha-bitch, birlo, family life, Mama's crazy, Nels, Sophie

We have a unique situation this week as I had thought Ralph was getting paid on the 6th - and it turns out it's the 10th. Four more days of scraping by and not paying bills when I said I would (tee hee!). This actually coincides nicely with the offset time period I was planning our weekly menu. Without further ado, here is our attempt to be vegetarian, economical, tasty, and easy:



(You may notice my life consists of a few meals a week of Mexican food. Fuck you.)

And for this, the grocery list (all purchased yesterday):

1 head cabbage
1/2 head red cabbage
1 lb. jalapenos
1 lb. carrots
1 large bunch broccoli
1 head garlic
1 lemmon
2 serrano chiles
1 bunch green onions
2 lb. green grapes
2 cans medium olives
1 can kidney beans, 16 oz.
1 can navy beans, 16 oz.
5 lb peanut butter (no sugar added)
3 cans vegetable broth, 14 oz.
1 can green chile enchilada sauce, 19 oz.
1 large can chunky organic tomato sauce (1 lb. 12 oz)
1 lb. bag tortilla chips
1 dozen eggs, brown organic
14 oz. firm tofu
5 oz. shredded parmesan cheese
2 lb monterey jack cheese
1 lb. rigatoni pasta
1 pint sour cream
50 corn tortillas (2 lb. 14 oz.)
1/2 lb nutritional yeast, large flake
1/2 cup sliced almonds
1/3 lb. white figs, dried
2 lbs. great northern beans, dried
2 lbs. pinto beans, dried organic

The total for everything was $67. Sixty-seven dollars for quality groceries for a week! Now, I will be buying a few odds and ends - I think milk and eggs perhaps. I'll make sure to post the full weekly total when I have it.

Tonight for our company I made the No Mas Carne Enchiladas, chile relleno, and Hogaboom Trademark Roasted Jalapeños.

My brother teases me on the phone tonight (we totally have matching Swatch phones!) that my enchiladas (which I accidentally called "vegan" because, well, they are) aren't any good. First off, I had Ralph drive him over a plateful to prove that little monstrerd wrong. Secondly, there are two types of veg*n food in life: the kind that leave you barely full, vaguely pissy, and longing for real food - and the kind that is delicious and does not leave you ruminating on what's lacking in the meal but rather energized by the goodness of the fare. So help me God, I don't believe I make that first type and I willingly accept the daily challenge to make the second. Even Brother Ass himself reluctantly agreed my food is not bland hippie fare and has variety - although he then went on to say I will soon be making Assy Veggie Loaf. I didn't think I'd say this past the early nineties, but Whatever.

Labels: birlo, grocery opus, homesteading, vegetarianism

Billy comes over for lunch and to take some pictures. I wish we had a camera. Scratch that. I wish we'd get off our asses and scrape up the $100 to fix ours.

Small gaffe on Mama's part - so today my brother is taking pictures of Sophie and the latest two shirts I've sewn her and she says, "I want to take pictures of my bottom and punani!" and I say (without thinking), "That's called kiddie porn. And we're not going to do that." She responds crankily, "Well I want kiddie porn!"


Billy and I doubled up in silent laughter. I immediately regretted that whole conversation. But, let's just move on.


Nels, pensive. He's been like that lately. I think he's undergoing a personality change. Since it isn't in the direction of savagery, I'm happy with it.


My room, sunlit. I would say "our room" but as Ralph points out, we are sleeping along gender lines these days. Unless we can trick the kids to sleep together, which we do now and then.

P.S. I found some crystal meth on my walk to my parents' today. Yay!

Labels: birlo, hilarity, random, sewing, Sophie

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

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

I ran two miles today. I ran two miles today! Yeah, yeah, I know you're thinking, Hell, I could run two miles. But can you, really? And DID you? Oh and P.S. a certain somebody, your comment re: "treadmill freak" did not go unnoticed. I will be biding my time.

I also got to meet with the HR employee at Ralph's new job. What we learned simply stunned us: a lower health insurance monthly premium than we imagined, we're talking one-tenth what we paid at his previous job! All the benefits were great. Full medical, dental, and vision, with a flex spending account we can use toward deductible. Today I've been feeling a lot of gratitude for his job.

Conversation between me and my brother, five minutes ago:

Me: "Billy, I have some really good coffee in the freezer, you can help yourself."
Billy: "Oh, no thanks."
Me: "I didn't mean right now, I meant if you'd like to try it."
Billy: "Oh, I don't like to waste good coffee on myself."
Me: "Spoken like a true git."
Billy: "What?"
Me [ Don Logan voice ]: "You heard."

Sophie and Nels, sleeping. Sophie is sleeping with a large, very realistic-looking black-widow spider sculpture. She's creepy like that.

Labels: birlo, gratitude

Well, I am feeling wretched today - it seems December, in two days, has already brought a share of disappointments. So I was oddly cheered when I discovered about five minutes ago that I have actually recieved something like *four comments* on my sewing blog (I'm not really sure how anyone finds it either - I lost my links at this oft-visited page and have been too lazy to put them up). Right now I have no camera (except my assy iSight on the Mac - a camera that always includes my rather messy and grungy laundry room background) so my sewing and knitting efforts (re-conn'd pants! left-handed knitting!) have gone undocumented.

But sadly, at this moment the more depressing circumstances in my life are overcoming the good. My parents won't be around for Christmas while my remaining immediate family member - my brother (viewed here with hospital bracelet regarding an episodic severe intestinal illness) told me he'd rather have Christmas by himself, my husband doesn't seem to care how much I am sad about not being with my FOO. Two friends have gone AWOL while I worry about their personal circumstances, one friend broke up with me, my older child is ill, and my younger child is growing out of his clothes too fast. And last but not least, Blogger Beta is acting like a gay and our bank account will be hitting bottom on Monday with four days left until payday.

Wow, it actually did not make me feel better to write that all out. Anyone interested in keeping me from throwing myself in front of a fast-moving train, feel free to send me a cheer-up email. Or barring that, a train schedule.

Today while the children napped (like canaries, their sleep-response seems proportionate to daylight) my husband and I wandered around the house, bored, ineffectual, too lazy to jump into our typical uber-housecleaning weekend frenzies. I was too cold and he was too warm (as usual) and we had carefully not over-scheduled our weekend - so now we had nothing to do. This afternoon while I cut out a pair of flannel pajamas he ventured into the attic to pull a cheesy-ass tinsel tree (via Freecycle) and thrift store lights out of the attic. Our now-garish living room awaits the awakening of the oldest child (yes, she is STILL napping, at almost 7 PM!) who will doubtless be thrilled at our impressively "festive" living room. Now that my knitting is caught up I am currently searching for an *easy* sock pattern for Sophie and feeling overwhelmed at the idea of assembling Christmas presents together this year.

Looks like it's lumps of coal for many of you.

Labels: birlo, FOO, friends, holidays, Ralph, worries

Life the last week.


Sr. Mysterioso is my kitchen muse. He watches all with a knowing smile.


My son was very grumpy when he woke up from his nap the day after Billy's arrival. Yes, I cut his hair recently. He is now looking more like a boring-arsed Little Boy instead of my fey little elf-maiden.


1 dinosaur suit and a snack later, he was good to go.


Evening: pumpkin carving ala Ralph. Who is that lurking on the attic stairs?

On Wednesday my brother, daughter and I journied to the Serpentarium in Monroe, Wa.


The mamba is my favorite snake. Because I picked it that way after a couple lines in one of my favorite novels.


Of course Sophie handled snakes. Gee, you think? She was a blur of light for one hour, racing around the room and looking at everything. Many specimens that would eat her if given half a chance.


The alligator snapped at my brother and I think he peed his pants a little, but he wouldn't admit it.


This thing has the face of evil. The head is pretty much life-size in this picture - about 4 1/2 inches across. And it had two-inch fangs. I liked snakes more before I saw this one.


Back at home, at the park. One block from our house. My kids are running at me about to jump on me in that way where their foot hits me in the groin, etc.

Today's word: GLOBSTER.

Labels: birlo, family life, Nels, SCIENCE, Sophie

Well, I just snapped at a perfectly decent human being. And I think it was a pregnant one, carrying a gift for someone else. Yeah, I'm an asshole. See, I was dropping off a gift at a baby shower because I wasn't able to attend and this nice-looking young woman who was dressed lovely and smelled like flowers asked me to park somewhere else, and I fixed her with the dead-eye and said, "I'm not staying", practically hissing like some cretinous Gorgon sister. It wasn't her or what she said; she caught me at a bad time. Then she proceeded to back down on the parking thing, she introduced herself, and then said, "It's nice to meet you." I felt about two inches tall and hideous.

Yes, today is one of those days you don't want to cross me. Or don't even want to try to say anything to me unless it's something like, "Hey, can I help you carry that?" or "You look nice today." That's right, I'm being a bitch. Now I know I joke about being a bitch all the time but I never mean it, because anyone who knows me knows I'm not really. I guess I should stop saying it because it cheapens days like today where I've just about had enough and I extend my regrets to anyone who's going to run across me and I really, really want people to give me a break and not annoy me. But they keep doing it.

Part of my problem may be a slightly heightened sense of schedule and responsibility. My brother is visiting. This is a good thing, except that it's hard for me to have company. I mentally "hover" over the person(s), especially if they're not someone I can trust to help me care for my kids. And it's really a mental holdover of my own, not a reflection of the capabilities or willingness of my guest(s), who are always happy to help I'm sure. Whatever it is, it sucks.

Once in my life I have actually taken a "time out" from my visitor: I basically said, "You need to entertain yourself for a while. I'm going to sew." In that case my friend was probably relieved to have a break. But it's hard for me to do. As I type this now my brother and son are upstairs playing on the computer and I feel guilty. Not guilty for neglecting my son, which I do regularly, but guilty for not providing 100% appropriate entertainment for my guest. This is dumb because this guest, like most, does not need this from me.

An IM from my husband: he is going to be home late. He doesn't know when. Yay! More good news.

Labels: birlo, chaos, FOO, i'm a hater

Dear Readers.

So much to tell, and no idea where to start. The family drama. The impromptu, packed-up-in-twenty-minutes roadtrip whereby I loaded up my oldest child in our truck and headed down to visit my brother for the weekend. The two days away from Husband and The Boy where my daughter and I were thick as thieves, staying up to 2 AM then sleeping in together, limbs wrapped around one another and hands tangled in one another's hair. The sheer comedy of my daughter's unconditional and expressive love toward my brother, who can be understated as standoffish (until you get to know him, anyway). At 11:30 PM on Saturday night, the two of them head into a local pizza parlour. She: peaches-and-cream complexion, blonde wispy hair, white sweater and kitten hat, and frilly skirt. Holding the hand of her Uncle Billy: sunglasses, long dark hair and beard, slight glower to his walk, and in his perennial thick dark wool peacoat (which he wears even on the hottest of summer days). They spent many an hour curled up on the couch (watching Nightmare Before Christmas and - Ralph was so pissed to hear this - Jurrassic Park). I think he's still trying to resist her charms a little, but it isn't really working.

I learned that it's possible to have a vacation with a child. Of course, we've had the kids on vacation before. But I mean a vacation in the sense of: totally relaxing, responsibility-free, fun every single minute of the day. No back-breaking lifting of an 18-month-old squirming fiend. Caring for a child 100% potty-trained who also washes her own hands when she's supposed to and can occasionally find her own food. No goddamn breastfeeding! [sigh!] Bliss for a couple days.

Unfortunately, The Boy is making up for his lost time without Mama. He seems to have grown an inch and converted yet more of his precious babyfat to sturdy muscle. He also can climb higher, scream louder, and eat more.

Three more weekdays to survive.

Labels: birlo, chaos, family life, Nels, Sophie, tenderness