Kelly's Dailies is Kelly Hogaboom in small, digestible bits. As a mother, lover, writer, seamstress, & cook.
$30 on a Friday night
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Friday, June 20, 2008 at 10:58 PM.
We made it to the carnival tonight.
At first I was nervous Nels wouldn't really enjoy the rides. What do I worry for? He was just as relaxed and smiling as he is about 99.8% of the time. Going down the Fun House spiral slide for the second time, he goofed around, miscalculated, and tumbled over on his head. Ralph and I practically raced to pick him up and administer comfort. Our children are getting older, more independent, less clingy. They don't breastfeed or cry out for us to hold them near as often as they used to.
I already feel a small hole working its way outward in my chest: the vacancy of the loss of being so essentially needed so much of the day.
At first I was nervous Nels wouldn't really enjoy the rides. What do I worry for? He was just as relaxed and smiling as he is about 99.8% of the time. Going down the Fun House spiral slide for the second time, he goofed around, miscalculated, and tumbled over on his head. Ralph and I practically raced to pick him up and administer comfort. Our children are getting older, more independent, less clingy. They don't breastfeed or cry out for us to hold them near as often as they used to.
I already feel a small hole working its way outward in my chest: the vacancy of the loss of being so essentially needed so much of the day.
i just know my readership will plummet with this mushy little mini-address
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Saturday, June 07, 2008 at 8:42 PM.
My husband returned home this afternoon and has decided to stay. He tells me he won't leave again. It would mean the most to me out of anything, ever, if he doesn't ever go again.
I rarely use this journal to address people directly, but the most sincere gratitude is in order to every single person who emailed or called or IM'd or even those who read (or will read) and said, "Yikes!" and felt the slightest bit of sympathy, worry, or empathy. Even an email that says something along the lines of, "I don't know what to say, but I read what you wrote" is more appreciated than the email's author might realize. I owe God and the universe the most sincere thank you for all of you; and trust that I am delivering these thanks over the next few days.
For the few individuals who were upset reading the nitty gritty of my last day or so, I can only say I'm sorry for this. I would hate for my journal here to be the source of suffering or upset but the fact is, I know it was for some. I hope you realize by sharing I am trying to honor my readers with my life, warts and all, as much as I can do so with integrity towards myself and my family.
The children and I had a butterfly date with friends. Photos to follow; hopefully. The weather cleared and even warmed a bit. My friend Jasmine bought me the most fun little succulent plant; she bought herself an even more awesome one which needs a name. I also got some sort of purple-leaved beauty for indoor / outdoor life with us. $2.70 for a little slice of living, breathing beauty.
I rarely use this journal to address people directly, but the most sincere gratitude is in order to every single person who emailed or called or IM'd or even those who read (or will read) and said, "Yikes!" and felt the slightest bit of sympathy, worry, or empathy. Even an email that says something along the lines of, "I don't know what to say, but I read what you wrote" is more appreciated than the email's author might realize. I owe God and the universe the most sincere thank you for all of you; and trust that I am delivering these thanks over the next few days.
For the few individuals who were upset reading the nitty gritty of my last day or so, I can only say I'm sorry for this. I would hate for my journal here to be the source of suffering or upset but the fact is, I know it was for some. I hope you realize by sharing I am trying to honor my readers with my life, warts and all, as much as I can do so with integrity towards myself and my family.
The children and I had a butterfly date with friends. Photos to follow; hopefully. The weather cleared and even warmed a bit. My friend Jasmine bought me the most fun little succulent plant; she bought herself an even more awesome one which needs a name. I also got some sort of purple-leaved beauty for indoor / outdoor life with us. $2.70 for a little slice of living, breathing beauty.
Labels: friends
what happens when the free time trickles in
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Wednesday, June 04, 2008 at 3:46 PM.
Nels slept in today and woke up under a blanket in between my parents on the living room couch while we enjoyed a morning coffee date. My son's temperament was sweet made all the more hapless since he has his last day of preschool today and was sporting a black eye, cutting a rather pathetic figure.
Chores today: cleaning rat cage, dishes, making beds, cleaning bathroom, starting two loaves of sourdough for tomorrow's Stone Soup cooking at Suse's kindergarten. At lunchtime on a whim I felt hungry for sushi. Easily accomplished: I made up the rice and while it was cooling blanched carrot matchsticks, cut cucumber, battered and lightly fried tofu, and toasted and crushed macadamian nuts. Of course this all makes several rolls so I assembled a bento each for my friend Shannon and my mother.
At 3 PM while Nels was at school I picked Sophie up early so we could go to a Smithsonian traveling exhibit hosted at our own Polson Museum. The volunteer was thrilled to see museum attendance double - well, more than double as when we entered the museum went from 0 visitors to 2. It was a great exhibit and a lot of fun to attend with my daughter. She listened politely to the volunteer, asked questions, read the exhibits, and seemed to enjoy most of all racing around the model train set.
Chores today: cleaning rat cage, dishes, making beds, cleaning bathroom, starting two loaves of sourdough for tomorrow's Stone Soup cooking at Suse's kindergarten. At lunchtime on a whim I felt hungry for sushi. Easily accomplished: I made up the rice and while it was cooling blanched carrot matchsticks, cut cucumber, battered and lightly fried tofu, and toasted and crushed macadamian nuts. Of course this all makes several rolls so I assembled a bento each for my friend Shannon and my mother.
At 3 PM while Nels was at school I picked Sophie up early so we could go to a Smithsonian traveling exhibit hosted at our own Polson Museum. The volunteer was thrilled to see museum attendance double - well, more than double as when we entered the museum went from 0 visitors to 2. It was a great exhibit and a lot of fun to attend with my daughter. She listened politely to the volunteer, asked questions, read the exhibits, and seemed to enjoy most of all racing around the model train set.
i like a good glass of gravy in the morning just like everyone else
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Tuesday, June 03, 2008 at 10:22 PM.
If you were going to go out, say, for a long night out where you go to dinner, and a movie, and get to listen to music in the car and have an uninterrupted conversation or two with a friend, I suppose there are worse things you could come home to than your son's huge, giant, enormously swollen black eye obtained from roughhousing with his father - this injury inflicted on the exact eye that had just barely recovered from a rather nasty stye. I mean really, it could be a lot worse.
In other news today I picked up seed potatoes (Russian Banana fingerlings!) and two thai pepper plants while Nels lost a pair of shoes - all at the iconic and fabulous Satsop Nursery, which looks like rundown scary buildings and then you go inside and it's a lovely jungle of beautifully-maintained plants.
Tonight with friend Amy on our date I ordered Irish Coffee and Bangers & Mash at the Galway Bay pub in Ocean Shores. And I really did not regret that decision in the slightest. Yes, that's right, sausages actually covered in gravy, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.
In other news today I picked up seed potatoes (Russian Banana fingerlings!) and two thai pepper plants while Nels lost a pair of shoes - all at the iconic and fabulous Satsop Nursery, which looks like rundown scary buildings and then you go inside and it's a lovely jungle of beautifully-maintained plants.
Tonight with friend Amy on our date I ordered Irish Coffee and Bangers & Mash at the Galway Bay pub in Ocean Shores. And I really did not regret that decision in the slightest. Yes, that's right, sausages actually covered in gravy, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.
one day of spring and then summer?
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Friday, May 16, 2008 at 9:21 PM.
Today I spent most the day on my bike and on the beach. I know this sounds nice and all, but it was very hot for me (HQX reached 93 and considering last week we still had winter chill I guess I just wasn't ready). On top of this the bike trip with my mom was harder than I'd thought it would be. In my tube-top dress and bright red face under a bike helmet I wasn't exactly getting wolf whistles, in fact I'm sure I made a few lads puke in their mouth a little bit.
Our beach trip was lovely. Friends Mikey and John picked Sophie and I up at 3:30 and we hit two separate beaches toting water and sunscreen as backup in the van. On the shore John repeatedly braved the waves while I watched my daughter over and over running into and out of the surf. After dinner and ice cream we journied home and hit the barely-cool house just prior to 9 PM. Quite a day for both Sophie and I and I count it up to my Good Mommy my daughter's skin remained entirely free from sunburn.
Our beach trip was lovely. Friends Mikey and John picked Sophie and I up at 3:30 and we hit two separate beaches toting water and sunscreen as backup in the van. On the shore John repeatedly braved the waves while I watched my daughter over and over running into and out of the surf. After dinner and ice cream we journied home and hit the barely-cool house just prior to 9 PM. Quite a day for both Sophie and I and I count it up to my Good Mommy my daughter's skin remained entirely free from sunburn.
the night watchers
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Tuesday, May 13, 2008 at 9:18 AM.
Last night I had two glasses of wine at dinner with friends (dinner was a nice time) and then two more glasses later the evening. This is a fair amount of wine by any standard, but quite a bit for me. My eyes popped open in the middle-of-the-night-post-drinking way that tells me sleep will not return for a while. Imagine my disappointment when I journeyed to the kitchen to discover it was only 2 AM!
Ralph once told me that if struck with insomnia (which he also sometimes suffers from) there's no point lying in bed trying to sleep if you can't. So I got up and sewed most of a shirt in my sewing room, knocking about on my recently reclaimed serger (fresh back from a tuneup) and fortunately not encountering any of the bad sewing mojo I've had lately. I passed through the bedroom at one point and found my son, curled up against his father but with eyes wide open. See, he'd suffered a similar bump in his normal sleeping arrangements, having fallen asleep at the table at Casa Mia while eating. This has happened several times in this particular restaurant - I guess that's some sleepy pizza. Here he was seven hours later quiet in mind and body and awake in a sleeping house.
I put my arms out to Nels and he silently clambered up into my arms. The next three hours we spent fireside snuggling in blankets, in the kitchen making Mexican hot chocolate, or back in his bed looking out the window at the "firefly" he discovered - a blinking light from a nearby tower on the hill. He talked and talked but what was better is, I listened to him, and he listened when I talked. I'd been feeling like the last few days I'd been ignoring him, often on errands with my mother or friends, or trying to get my chores done and including him in the process but with my mind far away. My mind and body were with my boy last night. And I guess if one is going to be struck with insomnia having company - especially company exhibiting such sweetness - ends up being better than sleeping.
Addendum: I had a really nice Mother's Day. Ralph really spoiled me with gifts (flowers, special breakfast, tickets to my favorite ever songwriter, and a generous gift certificate to one of my favorite ever places). My children each made me cards and gifts and we got to go to a Cinco de Mayo party that afternoon. Only mere "minutes" ago - to my mind - my children were tiny babies I lived for and slaved for who rewarded me with smiles and embraces in between crying fits and meddling with things and diaper needs. Things look much the same these days except my children are intentionally communicating how they feel about me; Sophie's Mother's Day card said, "I [ heart ] My Mothr" (with her photo glued in the middle of the heart) - inside were not only two beautifully-drawn flowers but also a three-tier cake topped with a crown and above this all, fireworks! So I guess to her at least sometimes, I'm pretty awesome.
Ralph once told me that if struck with insomnia (which he also sometimes suffers from) there's no point lying in bed trying to sleep if you can't. So I got up and sewed most of a shirt in my sewing room, knocking about on my recently reclaimed serger (fresh back from a tuneup) and fortunately not encountering any of the bad sewing mojo I've had lately. I passed through the bedroom at one point and found my son, curled up against his father but with eyes wide open. See, he'd suffered a similar bump in his normal sleeping arrangements, having fallen asleep at the table at Casa Mia while eating. This has happened several times in this particular restaurant - I guess that's some sleepy pizza. Here he was seven hours later quiet in mind and body and awake in a sleeping house.
I put my arms out to Nels and he silently clambered up into my arms. The next three hours we spent fireside snuggling in blankets, in the kitchen making Mexican hot chocolate, or back in his bed looking out the window at the "firefly" he discovered - a blinking light from a nearby tower on the hill. He talked and talked but what was better is, I listened to him, and he listened when I talked. I'd been feeling like the last few days I'd been ignoring him, often on errands with my mother or friends, or trying to get my chores done and including him in the process but with my mind far away. My mind and body were with my boy last night. And I guess if one is going to be struck with insomnia having company - especially company exhibiting such sweetness - ends up being better than sleeping.
Addendum: I had a really nice Mother's Day. Ralph really spoiled me with gifts (flowers, special breakfast, tickets to my favorite ever songwriter, and a generous gift certificate to one of my favorite ever places). My children each made me cards and gifts and we got to go to a Cinco de Mayo party that afternoon. Only mere "minutes" ago - to my mind - my children were tiny babies I lived for and slaved for who rewarded me with smiles and embraces in between crying fits and meddling with things and diaper needs. Things look much the same these days except my children are intentionally communicating how they feel about me; Sophie's Mother's Day card said, "I [ heart ] My Mothr" (with her photo glued in the middle of the heart) - inside were not only two beautifully-drawn flowers but also a three-tier cake topped with a crown and above this all, fireworks! So I guess to her at least sometimes, I'm pretty awesome.
the family whirlwind
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Sunday, April 06, 2008 at 8:14 PM.
Four years ago today despite the onset of faint contractions I'd taken a lovely, deep nap in the sunlight of my living room, waking as peacefully as I ever had. Deep in my bones this brief sleep felt like a ritual, a final act as mother to one child - before embarking on the New Adventure. I've heard it said any time you add a child to the family it's as momentous as the first child's addition. I knew this to be true that afternoon and time has not proven me wrong.
The family we dined with the afternoon I went into labor with Nels just left this morning - my friend Abbi and her two daughters who decided impulsively to take a trip and ended up staying three days and two nights (yay!). We spent a very active and rather foodie weekend cooking, playing, visiting the sights (including the farmer's market, our fruit and veggie stand, the carniceria, our Salvadorian restaurant, and a local creamery), swimming, recovering (by napping - which saved my body and mind), cooking some more (raw milk cheese! strawberry rhubarb pie! roasted jalapenos!), and sharing gardening hopes, seeds, and starts (the Hogaclan being by far the primary beneficiary on the starts).
About thirty minutes after our guests leave we find ourselves at my parents', serving up the pie I'd made the night before. My daughter suddenly exclaims in proud surprise, "I lost my tooth!" and reveals to us a bloody gap. A small flurry of excitement; my mother and grandfather in tears as they say to one another, "I wish Jean [my grandmother] were here." Sophie's sweet voice develops a slight lisp; now in talking her full upper lip catches a bit on the void her upper tooth left behind. She tells me later with cool confidence, "It fell into my sleeve."
This evening I knead the dough for treat I'm bringing Nels' class tomorrow (his birthday as well as his last day before moving up to the older class which he repeatedly points out, "Is full of new girls!") while he sits at the table, licking the mixer paddles. I am tired but breadmaking is one of my favorite things to do. "This dough is so nice..." I tell my husband, pleased at the soft, springy, smoothness that warm milk, egg, and butter affords (this particular confection contains chocolate and brown sugar, too!) and Nels adds, "Uh-huh!" enthusiastically, busy wiping his fingers and nodding. I lean in and kiss him for being who he is, my golden child who shares my love of cooking (ingredients he's chosen for us over the last week: cauliflower, cantelope, and a special red sea salt) and is forever coming up with the most imaginative games (tonight he was a pie bird and required I pantomime the preparation of a pie using his body).
The rest of the family enjoys the fireside and the warmth, contentment at the end of our Spring Break.
The family we dined with the afternoon I went into labor with Nels just left this morning - my friend Abbi and her two daughters who decided impulsively to take a trip and ended up staying three days and two nights (yay!). We spent a very active and rather foodie weekend cooking, playing, visiting the sights (including the farmer's market, our fruit and veggie stand, the carniceria, our Salvadorian restaurant, and a local creamery), swimming, recovering (by napping - which saved my body and mind), cooking some more (raw milk cheese! strawberry rhubarb pie! roasted jalapenos!), and sharing gardening hopes, seeds, and starts (the Hogaclan being by far the primary beneficiary on the starts).
About thirty minutes after our guests leave we find ourselves at my parents', serving up the pie I'd made the night before. My daughter suddenly exclaims in proud surprise, "I lost my tooth!" and reveals to us a bloody gap. A small flurry of excitement; my mother and grandfather in tears as they say to one another, "I wish Jean [my grandmother] were here." Sophie's sweet voice develops a slight lisp; now in talking her full upper lip catches a bit on the void her upper tooth left behind. She tells me later with cool confidence, "It fell into my sleeve."
This evening I knead the dough for treat I'm bringing Nels' class tomorrow (his birthday as well as his last day before moving up to the older class which he repeatedly points out, "Is full of new girls!") while he sits at the table, licking the mixer paddles. I am tired but breadmaking is one of my favorite things to do. "This dough is so nice..." I tell my husband, pleased at the soft, springy, smoothness that warm milk, egg, and butter affords (this particular confection contains chocolate and brown sugar, too!) and Nels adds, "Uh-huh!" enthusiastically, busy wiping his fingers and nodding. I lean in and kiss him for being who he is, my golden child who shares my love of cooking (ingredients he's chosen for us over the last week: cauliflower, cantelope, and a special red sea salt) and is forever coming up with the most imaginative games (tonight he was a pie bird and required I pantomime the preparation of a pie using his body).
The rest of the family enjoys the fireside and the warmth, contentment at the end of our Spring Break.
Labels: babies, birthday, food, friends, milestones, Nels, Sophie
weekend to weekend
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Monday, February 18, 2008 at 9:48 PM.
This weekend found us at my family's cabin* up near Shelton:
It was beautiful, cold and clear at Mason Lake (note: "Little Hoquiam" where my great-grandfather settled with friends!) for all three days.
My knitting + rustic decor. I also sewed Suse a pair of pants with a cute, but horrible-to-work-with, polyester woven I bought years ago.
A state of such permanency the label my grandmother made lives on and on. There's also a box marked, "Whiskers Nails & Armpits" (for razors, fingernail clippers, and deodorant, natch).
"Let's go to town, kids!" On Sunday we hit Olympia in part to take Ralph's guitar to Music 6000 for an expert opinion. At the Blue Heron Bakery we had a picnic of our own home-made sandwiches followed by cookies, coffee and tea from the shop. Let me tell you something: in my entire coffee-drinking career I have never taken a coffee back for being too bitter, but I had to in the case of the Heron's americano. I asked the barista if there was a mistake or ...? After coyly pouring a bit into his own wee cup the be-mustached, fey young man replied, "Yeah, that's pretty much what our espresso tastes like." Feeling like a puss, I switched out for a drip coffee which smelled faintly like hippie feet (I am not kidding nor exaggerating) but tasted fine enough. The cookies were great and the Garlic Kalamata Sourdough loaf was divine.
Sadly, during our lunch someone joked about eating the "top cookie" (that is, the cookie in the top of a package of five identical cookies) and the teasing was taken quite seriously by my son before we could convince him that yes, the "top cookie" was reserved for him.
As for the sweater: this is the least feminine thing Nels wears these days. His sister's a good sport, sharing her clothes with him.
Last weekend, my school friend Jodi visited along with her husband Doug and their children Cyan and India:
Sophie sat in the stroller and chronicled our gray stroll - down the highway and to a greasy spoon for soft-serve ice cream. Nothing but the best for our treasured guests!
Did I mention we in Hoquiam are sinking into the earth? Now I know why, growing up, people who met me out in the world would ask if I had webbed feet.
This was actually quite brilliant: the four children found a Connect Four game at the local coffee shop / popcorn factory and immediately began playing the game differently than intended. Without any noticeable communication (although children this age together can develop a monkey-language of their own) they'd fill up the board with alternating colors for each vertical row. Sophie, Cyan and Nels instinctively worked together at a high rate of speed while India (the youngest at 2) just did what the hell she wanted and the older children would either firmly grasp and re-direct her paw or, if she succeeded in dropping a color out of sequence, quickly retrieve the offending gamepiece and secure it. After a while the chore of catch-India-before-she-fucks-it-up got old and Cyan and Sophie started broadly hinting that maybe "someone" shouldn't play anymore.
* Built by my great-grandfather back in the day; shared by hordes of extended family now.
It was beautiful, cold and clear at Mason Lake (note: "Little Hoquiam" where my great-grandfather settled with friends!) for all three days.
My knitting + rustic decor. I also sewed Suse a pair of pants with a cute, but horrible-to-work-with, polyester woven I bought years ago.
A state of such permanency the label my grandmother made lives on and on. There's also a box marked, "Whiskers Nails & Armpits" (for razors, fingernail clippers, and deodorant, natch).
"Let's go to town, kids!" On Sunday we hit Olympia in part to take Ralph's guitar to Music 6000 for an expert opinion. At the Blue Heron Bakery we had a picnic of our own home-made sandwiches followed by cookies, coffee and tea from the shop. Let me tell you something: in my entire coffee-drinking career I have never taken a coffee back for being too bitter, but I had to in the case of the Heron's americano. I asked the barista if there was a mistake or ...? After coyly pouring a bit into his own wee cup the be-mustached, fey young man replied, "Yeah, that's pretty much what our espresso tastes like." Feeling like a puss, I switched out for a drip coffee which smelled faintly like hippie feet (I am not kidding nor exaggerating) but tasted fine enough. The cookies were great and the Garlic Kalamata Sourdough loaf was divine.
Sadly, during our lunch someone joked about eating the "top cookie" (that is, the cookie in the top of a package of five identical cookies) and the teasing was taken quite seriously by my son before we could convince him that yes, the "top cookie" was reserved for him.
As for the sweater: this is the least feminine thing Nels wears these days. His sister's a good sport, sharing her clothes with him.
Last weekend, my school friend Jodi visited along with her husband Doug and their children Cyan and India:
Sophie sat in the stroller and chronicled our gray stroll - down the highway and to a greasy spoon for soft-serve ice cream. Nothing but the best for our treasured guests!
Did I mention we in Hoquiam are sinking into the earth? Now I know why, growing up, people who met me out in the world would ask if I had webbed feet.
This was actually quite brilliant: the four children found a Connect Four game at the local coffee shop / popcorn factory and immediately began playing the game differently than intended. Without any noticeable communication (although children this age together can develop a monkey-language of their own) they'd fill up the board with alternating colors for each vertical row. Sophie, Cyan and Nels instinctively worked together at a high rate of speed while India (the youngest at 2) just did what the hell she wanted and the older children would either firmly grasp and re-direct her paw or, if she succeeded in dropping a color out of sequence, quickly retrieve the offending gamepiece and secure it. After a while the chore of catch-India-before-she-fucks-it-up got old and Cyan and Sophie started broadly hinting that maybe "someone" shouldn't play anymore.
* Built by my great-grandfather back in the day; shared by hordes of extended family now.
Labels: coffee, food, friends, knitting, Nels, Sophie, vacation, weather
i made it, yet again
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Sunday, February 10, 2008 at 8:53 PM.
In just a few hours I will have completed thirty-one revolutions around the sun. Good job, me! And thanks, mom and dad! And everyone else involved, really.
Last year on my thirtieth birthday it was a jumble. I was days away from moving our family for the first time (and in denial); I then had a surprise party that included employees, friends, FOO - who I typically would have to beg or cajole to visit, including during times I faced surgery and baby-birthin' - and this great party only minutes after I'd discovered our dear lovely family cat Fancy had been killed. It was an amazing, wonderful, and emotional ride; this year I'm content with a lot quieter. I love the idea of being 31. I like the number itself.
The weekend entailed a visit from college friend Jodi, husband Doug, and their two children Cyan and India. After they left I darted back to my sewing room to finish baby booties for Nels' teacher's imminent birth and enjoyed my mother's company for a dinner of cabbage rolls and baked potatoes courtesy of Ralph's cooking. So all-in-all at 9 PM I'm tired but grateful and content and looking forward to a lie-in.
Last year on my thirtieth birthday it was a jumble. I was days away from moving our family for the first time (and in denial); I then had a surprise party that included employees, friends, FOO - who I typically would have to beg or cajole to visit, including during times I faced surgery and baby-birthin' - and this great party only minutes after I'd discovered our dear lovely family cat Fancy had been killed. It was an amazing, wonderful, and emotional ride; this year I'm content with a lot quieter. I love the idea of being 31. I like the number itself.
The weekend entailed a visit from college friend Jodi, husband Doug, and their two children Cyan and India. After they left I darted back to my sewing room to finish baby booties for Nels' teacher's imminent birth and enjoyed my mother's company for a dinner of cabbage rolls and baked potatoes courtesy of Ralph's cooking. So all-in-all at 9 PM I'm tired but grateful and content and looking forward to a lie-in.
boy-logic
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Wednesday, January 30, 2008 at 9:07 PM.
Nels has very specific preferences and plans. For instance after his late nap today while sitting on the counter he directed my husband to putting in hairclips and ponytail, with about four hundred colored bobbypins. He was very dissatisfied when he felt up for the ponytail and at first my husband thought he wanted it lower. But then Nels made it clear he wanted it up high but long, down his back - "just like Sophie!" - and when Ralph couldn't make this happen my son threw back his head and wailed.
You may be thinking my son has a touch of the femme but, a few minutes later, he also told Ralph about looking forward to growing hair on his penis.
Later, removing all his clips for the bath we exchange the following.
Me: "You looked real pretty today, Nels."
Sophie: "Boys don't look pretty."
Me: "Yes they do. Johnny Depp is pretty. Christian Bale is pretty."
Sophie: "Martin Luther King is pretty."*
Nels: "Chris is pretty."
Me: "Chris who?" ... "Chris Brummel?"
Nels: "Yeah. He has a beard. He has a white hat." Then Nels says a bunch of gibberish about bowling and basketball which I later realize is Wii-related.** "Yeah. He's pretty."
So the recap. Long, beautiful girlie hair. And pubes. And a big bushy beard. And the Wii. I guess it all makes sense.
* Thanks for the one-upsmanship in making me look really shallow, Sophie.
** From a visit in December. Coincidentally it's Chris' birthday today and he re-launched his rather awesome personal website.
You may be thinking my son has a touch of the femme but, a few minutes later, he also told Ralph about looking forward to growing hair on his penis.
Later, removing all his clips for the bath we exchange the following.
Me: "You looked real pretty today, Nels."
Sophie: "Boys don't look pretty."
Me: "Yes they do. Johnny Depp is pretty. Christian Bale is pretty."
Sophie: "Martin Luther King is pretty."*
Nels: "Chris is pretty."
Me: "Chris who?" ... "Chris Brummel?"
Nels: "Yeah. He has a beard. He has a white hat." Then Nels says a bunch of gibberish about bowling and basketball which I later realize is Wii-related.** "Yeah. He's pretty."
So the recap. Long, beautiful girlie hair. And pubes. And a big bushy beard. And the Wii. I guess it all makes sense.
* Thanks for the one-upsmanship in making me look really shallow, Sophie.
** From a visit in December. Coincidentally it's Chris' birthday today and he re-launched his rather awesome personal website.
a town with wings and no feet
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Monday, January 21, 2008 at 11:24 AM.
My trip to Port Townsend, taken almost a year after we moved to HQX, has come and gone. I enjoyed myself doing what I like to do; taking a leisurely schedule and breaking bread with a handful of dear friends. I was oddly relieved to see that very little felt different; the town was just as it was, warts and loveliness both. Business owners will still doing their thing and restaurant menus and offerings remained the same. The weather competed for Grays Harbor in terms of winter blah (although my logical mind knows this was only a kindness bestowed on me by the weathergods to soften the soaked mossy reality of my new home). My friends' lives hadn't suddenly taken wing without me. The children I'd so missed hadn't changed so much as inserted about 6" in their middle somewhere. Port Townsend itself did not evoke wistfulness or sadness so much as seemed a comfortable, parallel dimension of home.
There were cosmetic differences. Ladies seem to have traded in their Danskos for Merrells. An acquaintance's art shop had moved downtown and Swain's checkout counter had moved up in the store. On Saturday I went to a yoga class and re-connected with that aspect of the community, which I discovered I'd missed very much. In both Friday and Saturday night's gatherings I was inspired by the community I'd known with their impulsive creativity, a bubble that expects, experiences, and serves itself a high quality of life indeed.
I spent almost no time alone this weekend which was highlighted by a little incident on Sunday afternoon. Two o'clock found me outside the Model T Pub and Eatery in Hoodsport with my vinyl green suitcase and my sock knitting (Nels' Christmas socks, still unfinished). It's cold - very cold, but brilliant and sunny. I don't want to go inside the pub (a pleasant place) because I want to see my family when they arrive. As I knit away, yarn ball tucked in my pocket, a man emerges from the restaurant and into the sunshine to smoke. He looks like Grays Harbor stock - handsome but weathered, black jeans, cowboy hat, and biker jacket. "Knitting!" he drawls, surprised. "You making gloves or socks? Whyn'tcha make me a pair?" I show him my son's socks and he replies, "Well, I can't wear wool. And I can't wear colored clothes, you know, dye. If I wear dye, it soaks into my skin and makes me sick. Of course, I'm sixty-five now, so maybe something's changed..." He goes on to talk about his truck - a Mazda like mine that's just had repairs - and his son who happens to be a mechanic in Port Townsend. He talks about himself and his life as if I'd been standing there waiting to hear, which in a way I had.
Our discussion is interrupted by the arrival of my family. By the time I've put my suitcase in the car he's stepped back inside for another beer or coffee. I wish I would have said, "Nice talking to you!" because I like those interactions. I like having a break from thinking about my own life's plans and experiencing the realities of others, of strangers.
On the drive home my husband queries me about my trip; he asks after our friends, what the surprises were. My kids insist I reach back and hold their hands. They've missed me. When we get home Nels, still feverish and strange from his Saturday illness, directs me under the covers of my bed to "cuttle" as he calls it - folds his hot little arms around my neck and kisses, kisses, kisses me. I can wrap my hand almost all the way around his upper arm. The house is messy and tomorrow we have to travel again but for the moment I feel great being home.
There were cosmetic differences. Ladies seem to have traded in their Danskos for Merrells. An acquaintance's art shop had moved downtown and Swain's checkout counter had moved up in the store. On Saturday I went to a yoga class and re-connected with that aspect of the community, which I discovered I'd missed very much. In both Friday and Saturday night's gatherings I was inspired by the community I'd known with their impulsive creativity, a bubble that expects, experiences, and serves itself a high quality of life indeed.
I spent almost no time alone this weekend which was highlighted by a little incident on Sunday afternoon. Two o'clock found me outside the Model T Pub and Eatery in Hoodsport with my vinyl green suitcase and my sock knitting (Nels' Christmas socks, still unfinished). It's cold - very cold, but brilliant and sunny. I don't want to go inside the pub (a pleasant place) because I want to see my family when they arrive. As I knit away, yarn ball tucked in my pocket, a man emerges from the restaurant and into the sunshine to smoke. He looks like Grays Harbor stock - handsome but weathered, black jeans, cowboy hat, and biker jacket. "Knitting!" he drawls, surprised. "You making gloves or socks? Whyn'tcha make me a pair?" I show him my son's socks and he replies, "Well, I can't wear wool. And I can't wear colored clothes, you know, dye. If I wear dye, it soaks into my skin and makes me sick. Of course, I'm sixty-five now, so maybe something's changed..." He goes on to talk about his truck - a Mazda like mine that's just had repairs - and his son who happens to be a mechanic in Port Townsend. He talks about himself and his life as if I'd been standing there waiting to hear, which in a way I had.
Our discussion is interrupted by the arrival of my family. By the time I've put my suitcase in the car he's stepped back inside for another beer or coffee. I wish I would have said, "Nice talking to you!" because I like those interactions. I like having a break from thinking about my own life's plans and experiencing the realities of others, of strangers.
On the drive home my husband queries me about my trip; he asks after our friends, what the surprises were. My kids insist I reach back and hold their hands. They've missed me. When we get home Nels, still feverish and strange from his Saturday illness, directs me under the covers of my bed to "cuttle" as he calls it - folds his hot little arms around my neck and kisses, kisses, kisses me. I can wrap my hand almost all the way around his upper arm. The house is messy and tomorrow we have to travel again but for the moment I feel great being home.
breaking my first rule about you-know-what
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Sunday, December 23, 2007 at 10:38 PM.
Now seems as good a time as any to reveal that for ten months now I have been really, really timid regarding writing about my new life here - and by my "new life" I specifically mean my friends and peers. I find that I just don't want to write about school (which takes up a lot of my time and thought) and upset my kids' teacher(s), or offend a schoolmate's parents, or write about my friends and upset the three ladies who have taken me under their wing since we moved (I know they don't think of it that way as everyone seems to think of me as an Alpha Bitch who needs no help nor coddling). Yes, surely, I am being paranoid: none of these people read my blog so let it fly, eh? But in fact I have learned over the last four years that I really don't know who's reading the blog, sometimes not until I get an email either offended (once) or, more likely, having followed me for a couple years and heretofore remaining silent.
Today is the day that I throw off caution and decide to just be me and quit writing about the safer subjects of my father's illness, or cuddling the kids, or whatever, and write about who I see during the day and what I do. Yeah, HQX is a small town; but so was PT. Yeah, I don't have enough friends to spare but I'm willing to work my ass off to keep them. Yeah, I'm not really "established" here but c'mon - when am I going to feel like I am, anyway?
Oh and in case you thought the last couple paragraphs were preludes to some great dirt: they weren't. I'm just officially acknowledging yes, I've been letting you down, dear reader. And as of today I'm going to grow a pair and write on.
Last night I was joined by eight local ladyfriends for a gift exchange and holiday party. I had a great time and I was honored to host. Because it was a group of women, we had plenty of food and a comical amount of beer stacked in my kitchen (I think a few guests left with more booze than they brought). Because it was me, the food was overly coordinated and excellent (I ate one hundred thousand servings of Jasmine's asparagus appetizer) and included an Aztec sherry cake - both delicious and hilarious. Because it was a group that doesn't see one another all that often, we only got about twenty minutes into the 80s movie before we stopped due to a lack of interest (not me! But I'm a dork like that). With the exception of two gals, I'd known all of them for 20 or so years. Isn't that just incredible? I felt so fortunate to have my girlhood friends, and my own mom - dressed like a rockstar BTW - all under my roof to share our lives together. And no, Ralph, we did not strip down to panties and have a pillow fight, although I hope you're envisioning that with my mom and all.
After a night staying over at my parents' (I joined my family there after my last guest left) my family returned home and centered our schedule around wrapping presents for our 4 PM delivery to our adopted Christmas gift family (pictures and details pending post-holiday). Dinner tonight was at Shannon's with her lovely family of five and after a lovely homecooked meal we stayed until 10 PM. It's like last night kicked off the final couple days until Christmas. Tomorrow morning: no school for the kids. Sleep-in for three of us as Ralph heads in to one day of work before the Big Night.
I am not as ready as Bonesaw, but I am pretty ready for Christmas. How 'bout you?
Today is the day that I throw off caution and decide to just be me and quit writing about the safer subjects of my father's illness, or cuddling the kids, or whatever, and write about who I see during the day and what I do. Yeah, HQX is a small town; but so was PT. Yeah, I don't have enough friends to spare but I'm willing to work my ass off to keep them. Yeah, I'm not really "established" here but c'mon - when am I going to feel like I am, anyway?
Oh and in case you thought the last couple paragraphs were preludes to some great dirt: they weren't. I'm just officially acknowledging yes, I've been letting you down, dear reader. And as of today I'm going to grow a pair and write on.
Last night I was joined by eight local ladyfriends for a gift exchange and holiday party. I had a great time and I was honored to host. Because it was a group of women, we had plenty of food and a comical amount of beer stacked in my kitchen (I think a few guests left with more booze than they brought). Because it was me, the food was overly coordinated and excellent (I ate one hundred thousand servings of Jasmine's asparagus appetizer) and included an Aztec sherry cake - both delicious and hilarious. Because it was a group that doesn't see one another all that often, we only got about twenty minutes into the 80s movie before we stopped due to a lack of interest (not me! But I'm a dork like that). With the exception of two gals, I'd known all of them for 20 or so years. Isn't that just incredible? I felt so fortunate to have my girlhood friends, and my own mom - dressed like a rockstar BTW - all under my roof to share our lives together. And no, Ralph, we did not strip down to panties and have a pillow fight, although I hope you're envisioning that with my mom and all.
After a night staying over at my parents' (I joined my family there after my last guest left) my family returned home and centered our schedule around wrapping presents for our 4 PM delivery to our adopted Christmas gift family (pictures and details pending post-holiday). Dinner tonight was at Shannon's with her lovely family of five and after a lovely homecooked meal we stayed until 10 PM. It's like last night kicked off the final couple days until Christmas. Tomorrow morning: no school for the kids. Sleep-in for three of us as Ralph heads in to one day of work before the Big Night.
I am not as ready as Bonesaw, but I am pretty ready for Christmas. How 'bout you?
better than most "real" news reports 'round these parts
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Thursday, December 06, 2007 at 7:51 PM.Grays Harbor Wind Storm - The Hogaboom Report from ralph hogaboom on Vimeo.
Seriously, I will love Shannon for the rest of my life with how much she thrilled Nels during this. As she was pulling Allison (her own daughter, the first child you see "stranded") Nels got the biggest, and I mean biggest grin and started crying out, "Shannon, Shannon, help me! Help!" and was like the girl elected as Homecoming Queen when she went back for him.
i'm kind of sick but also excited
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Thursday, November 29, 2007 at 6:27 PM.
I'm working up a new recipe.* Listening to Dean Martin's "Forever Cool". You know, he has me at Track 01 ("Ain't That A Kick In The Head"). Damn, that man packed some sex appeal in his crooning.
Tonight Cyn sends me a link. I kind of laughed, then I started looking around. And it turns out this is the loneliest, and I mean the loneliest thing I have ever seen. More lonely than the geekiest D&D nerds with their 12-sided die, drinking Mountain Dew all night. More lonely than that dog turd half-squished on the lawn. More lonely than the stale half-donut in the bottom of the box after the Insurance Benefit Primer Workshop at a Community College.
* ETA: we had it for dinner; 'twas amazing!
Tonight Cyn sends me a link. I kind of laughed, then I started looking around. And it turns out this is the loneliest, and I mean the loneliest thing I have ever seen. More lonely than the geekiest D&D nerds with their 12-sided die, drinking Mountain Dew all night. More lonely than that dog turd half-squished on the lawn. More lonely than the stale half-donut in the bottom of the box after the Insurance Benefit Primer Workshop at a Community College.
* ETA: we had it for dinner; 'twas amazing!
Labels: food, friends, geekery, inter-tron, music
browser history shows: werewolf stilts, recipes for eyeball cupcakes, geeky homemade tombstones
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Tuesday, October 02, 2007 at 12:39 PM.
I'm back at the library, hiding from the rain. There's a woman next to me with a passel of kids - one of them in a carseat caddy. Her kids are whining and fighting in the kid section as she types oblivious and in a few minutes when I leave I'm going to use this opportunity to NOT clean the child area to the standards I normally do.
I had a significant parcel of time to myself this last weekend; first, a visit to the Olympus Spa - truly one of the more nurturing places I've ever been - to meet Abbi and Becca (naked, all of us). Then up to Seattle to be shown the sites (including a new dot com startup office, fun for me) by a friend. Being with myself, being away from family, I caught myself really thinking and saying a lot of things that dismayed me. Inner darkness, hello! Hadn't seen you in a while. I was also surprised how much I enjoyed the bits of alone-ness. The absolutely crawling traffic north of Tacoma - fine. I was by myself, well-fed and nourished, with coffee and the iPod. Deep-breaths. It felt great and I think I need to do it again, and soon.
The holidays are officially commencing for our household with the Hogaboom Halloween preparations (it's been cute to find on the computer Ralph's plans for a Destro or Cobra Commandor ensemble). I don't find holidays at all exhausting because I don't feel pressure to spend a lot or go visit any particular people. I just plan things I enjoy (having said that, this season will probably kick my ass in some so-you-think-you're-gonna-be-smug karmic way). Sophie reviewed the fabrics I bought for her elaborate choice of costume (thank Sweet Baby Jesus she eschewed any frilly princessy garbage, at least for this year); my mother, away now for a month and missing my children, has been more than eager to agree to Nels' even more technically-challenging plan.
Tonight in honor of a recent amazing lunch date at Vic's with Amy I am making a double-crusted pizza pie; tomorrow, black bean soft tacos and slaw. My kids have been choosing our dinner plans (last week's highlights included homemade hamburger buns for burgers, homemade fries and Haagen Daaz milkshake).
The mom I spoke of is abusively railing at her kids to clean up while not helping them in any particular way (browsing at books ten feet away and barking out random commands). It's tempting to judge but I've been that woman myself.
And so goes the domestic beat on our Monday morning.
I had a significant parcel of time to myself this last weekend; first, a visit to the Olympus Spa - truly one of the more nurturing places I've ever been - to meet Abbi and Becca (naked, all of us). Then up to Seattle to be shown the sites (including a new dot com startup office, fun for me) by a friend. Being with myself, being away from family, I caught myself really thinking and saying a lot of things that dismayed me. Inner darkness, hello! Hadn't seen you in a while. I was also surprised how much I enjoyed the bits of alone-ness. The absolutely crawling traffic north of Tacoma - fine. I was by myself, well-fed and nourished, with coffee and the iPod. Deep-breaths. It felt great and I think I need to do it again, and soon.
The holidays are officially commencing for our household with the Hogaboom Halloween preparations (it's been cute to find on the computer Ralph's plans for a Destro or Cobra Commandor ensemble). I don't find holidays at all exhausting because I don't feel pressure to spend a lot or go visit any particular people. I just plan things I enjoy (having said that, this season will probably kick my ass in some so-you-think-you're-gonna-be-smug karmic way). Sophie reviewed the fabrics I bought for her elaborate choice of costume (thank Sweet Baby Jesus she eschewed any frilly princessy garbage, at least for this year); my mother, away now for a month and missing my children, has been more than eager to agree to Nels' even more technically-challenging plan.
Tonight in honor of a recent amazing lunch date at Vic's with Amy I am making a double-crusted pizza pie; tomorrow, black bean soft tacos and slaw. My kids have been choosing our dinner plans (last week's highlights included homemade hamburger buns for burgers, homemade fries and Haagen Daaz milkshake).
The mom I spoke of is abusively railing at her kids to clean up while not helping them in any particular way (browsing at books ten feet away and barking out random commands). It's tempting to judge but I've been that woman myself.
And so goes the domestic beat on our Monday morning.
Labels: food geekery, friends, halloween, holidays, Sophie
a diamond is forever underwater
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Saturday, September 22, 2007 at 11:26 PM.
About six weeks ago our dear friend Cyn had asked to visit and stay with us this weekend. Since we moved she has missed us and we indeed miss her - she was our next door neighbor to the house we started our family in and many a night we've had dinner and a movie together. But there was another reason for her visit: her husband and partner of over two decades was, five years after their divorce, getting re-married this Saturday. And rather than staying in the hometown she and her beloved had met, courted, married, bought a home, started their family, built and then lost their life together she had decided to perform her own ritual. She told me she was planning to throw her wedding ring into the sea. It had suddenly appeared on her desk of its own volition a while earlier. It was time to let it go.
We looked forward to her visit, especially on the tails of Ralph and my vacation (I don't know if you could meet people more happy to have company than the Hogaboom foursome). But I for one felt like, besides the fellowship and meal-sharing that always happens with Cynthia and her family (including this weekend not her daughter but her two dogs), our role as hosts was somewhat suppressed. Our job was to give her space and facilitation for her mission; to help decide where she would cast the ring and to support her in doing so. Ralph and I had also wanted to go to the Saturday night showing of the Patron's Pick film Animal House at the 7th Street Theatre and to show her the theatre. She seemed amenable to this plan and we formalized it.
I think the task ended up being a bit daunting for her, especially coming off a heavy work load during the week. On Friday afternoon she called practically from the road on the way down. Usually her visits and her excursions in general are accompanied by studied and detailed planning. Often on a visit to us she asks me for a list of the beloved sundries and groceries I would like from Port Townsend; she has not made a trip down yet without bringing us some beer from our favorite PT brewery. But this weekend she came down, as she put it, "almost empty-handed", her voice betraying her surprise at the relative impulsiveness of the roadtrip. On the drive down she listened to music near full-volume - something she said she hadn't done for as long as she could remember.
Ralph knows exactly where to deposit the ring: the jetty at Westport. "We can go to Half-Moon Bay, the moon was a half-moon the other night - one wedding ring!" he exclaims. It is a solid plan. After breakfast Saturday we pack a lunch and extra clothes for the kids and settle the dogs in the van and head out. The weather is stunning and the drive passes quickly. Westport is bright and friendly and busy and we wind our way to the jetty. There are more surfers there than I have yet seen; handsome, attractive sun-swept sleek-suited adventurers of all shapes and ages. The late-summer sun illuminates the mist on the beach and the air is, for a veteran coastal dweller like myself, nourishing as food. As we get out of the car Cynthia realizes with shock she has left the ring back in Hoquiam. We eventually decide this is a scouting trip; the three of us will return in the evening while our kids are being babysat by friends. We walk the jetty, beach paths, and admire the impressive and massive swells that roll into shore. Oily-looking seabirds bob and dive in the water. The sand is hot or cool on one's feet, depending on where you walk.
After a trip back to town, lunch, nap, dinner, and packing the kids off it turns out our movie gets out later than we'd planned. Making a trip out to the beach again will involve either picking up the children or abandoning our threesome. Cynthia wishes for a place closer. When she says this I can picture the bay at the bend of the highway, out north towards Ocean Shores. It's not the ocean but it's a great spot for me - lots of memories, none of them poor. I remember several bonfires; one night "babysitting" two friends as they did acid for the first (and only?) time. I remember a few parked cars and one of Ralph and my first ever makeout expeditions back in the day. It is a peaceful place, a sanctuary for the young to get up to (relatively) harmless fun. We could go out together and be back in time to pick up the children.
The two dogs are excited, game, up for anything. The night is mild, with the languid promise of a slow summer night and the hint of the fall chill. The moon is waxing gibbous, past the half-point, brightening the highway and then the beach. We park and make our way down to the bay - the moon lighting our way and keeping us from spraining ankles. We see the lights of Ocean Shores condos and the industrial ports clustering around harbor. The moon dashes itself against the peaceful, cold waters and flashes in serene acceptance.
Cynthia is trying to find purchase to approach the water so she can really haul that ring out into depths; I know that the beach legs that look like solid footing are actually swampy marsh-grass, not navigable without getting mucky or downright soaked. We walk up and down the bay a bit and find the spot. Ralph and I join our friend, standing back a bit. She contemplates a while, ten feet away and facing southwest to sea. She throws the ring, tied to a rock with beach grass and it splashes distant. She stands one minute more then turns around and walks to stand with us. "Thanks, guys," she says in a low voice. Ralph holds me and we stand looking out over the water. "It feels good to let it go," she continues. "I feel sad. But I'm really ready to let something new into my life." Her voice is thick with weeping and her eyes are smudged with tears.
We return back to town and drive through the night to our house. Cynthia says goodnight and heads to her weekend bed in my parents' upstairs. Ralph and I drive to East Hoquiam to pick up our children; both have fallen asleep and the living room is a cozy composition of children swaddled in blankets, pillows, and pajamas as a muted viewing of School of Rock plays on the television. We carry our sleeping children back to the van and drive home, settling them in fully-clothed to their beds.
We looked forward to her visit, especially on the tails of Ralph and my vacation (I don't know if you could meet people more happy to have company than the Hogaboom foursome). But I for one felt like, besides the fellowship and meal-sharing that always happens with Cynthia and her family (including this weekend not her daughter but her two dogs), our role as hosts was somewhat suppressed. Our job was to give her space and facilitation for her mission; to help decide where she would cast the ring and to support her in doing so. Ralph and I had also wanted to go to the Saturday night showing of the Patron's Pick film Animal House at the 7th Street Theatre and to show her the theatre. She seemed amenable to this plan and we formalized it.
I think the task ended up being a bit daunting for her, especially coming off a heavy work load during the week. On Friday afternoon she called practically from the road on the way down. Usually her visits and her excursions in general are accompanied by studied and detailed planning. Often on a visit to us she asks me for a list of the beloved sundries and groceries I would like from Port Townsend; she has not made a trip down yet without bringing us some beer from our favorite PT brewery. But this weekend she came down, as she put it, "almost empty-handed", her voice betraying her surprise at the relative impulsiveness of the roadtrip. On the drive down she listened to music near full-volume - something she said she hadn't done for as long as she could remember.
Ralph knows exactly where to deposit the ring: the jetty at Westport. "We can go to Half-Moon Bay, the moon was a half-moon the other night - one wedding ring!" he exclaims. It is a solid plan. After breakfast Saturday we pack a lunch and extra clothes for the kids and settle the dogs in the van and head out. The weather is stunning and the drive passes quickly. Westport is bright and friendly and busy and we wind our way to the jetty. There are more surfers there than I have yet seen; handsome, attractive sun-swept sleek-suited adventurers of all shapes and ages. The late-summer sun illuminates the mist on the beach and the air is, for a veteran coastal dweller like myself, nourishing as food. As we get out of the car Cynthia realizes with shock she has left the ring back in Hoquiam. We eventually decide this is a scouting trip; the three of us will return in the evening while our kids are being babysat by friends. We walk the jetty, beach paths, and admire the impressive and massive swells that roll into shore. Oily-looking seabirds bob and dive in the water. The sand is hot or cool on one's feet, depending on where you walk.
After a trip back to town, lunch, nap, dinner, and packing the kids off it turns out our movie gets out later than we'd planned. Making a trip out to the beach again will involve either picking up the children or abandoning our threesome. Cynthia wishes for a place closer. When she says this I can picture the bay at the bend of the highway, out north towards Ocean Shores. It's not the ocean but it's a great spot for me - lots of memories, none of them poor. I remember several bonfires; one night "babysitting" two friends as they did acid for the first (and only?) time. I remember a few parked cars and one of Ralph and my first ever makeout expeditions back in the day. It is a peaceful place, a sanctuary for the young to get up to (relatively) harmless fun. We could go out together and be back in time to pick up the children.
The two dogs are excited, game, up for anything. The night is mild, with the languid promise of a slow summer night and the hint of the fall chill. The moon is waxing gibbous, past the half-point, brightening the highway and then the beach. We park and make our way down to the bay - the moon lighting our way and keeping us from spraining ankles. We see the lights of Ocean Shores condos and the industrial ports clustering around harbor. The moon dashes itself against the peaceful, cold waters and flashes in serene acceptance.
Cynthia is trying to find purchase to approach the water so she can really haul that ring out into depths; I know that the beach legs that look like solid footing are actually swampy marsh-grass, not navigable without getting mucky or downright soaked. We walk up and down the bay a bit and find the spot. Ralph and I join our friend, standing back a bit. She contemplates a while, ten feet away and facing southwest to sea. She throws the ring, tied to a rock with beach grass and it splashes distant. She stands one minute more then turns around and walks to stand with us. "Thanks, guys," she says in a low voice. Ralph holds me and we stand looking out over the water. "It feels good to let it go," she continues. "I feel sad. But I'm really ready to let something new into my life." Her voice is thick with weeping and her eyes are smudged with tears.
We return back to town and drive through the night to our house. Cynthia says goodnight and heads to her weekend bed in my parents' upstairs. Ralph and I drive to East Hoquiam to pick up our children; both have fallen asleep and the living room is a cozy composition of children swaddled in blankets, pillows, and pajamas as a muted viewing of School of Rock plays on the television. We carry our sleeping children back to the van and drive home, settling them in fully-clothed to their beds.
"yeah well, some women find it offensive"
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Thursday, September 20, 2007 at 2:05 PM.
Our friend Paige who performed as childcare / housesitter / kid-lover did an excellent job. An excellent job. The main ways I have of knowing this are that A., my children were content and had that well-cared for mien upon our return, and B. the types of questions Paige would ask when we'd IM or call from our break. Yesterday when we arrived our house had been returned to it's previous order (well... no one can clean my bathroom like I can except perhaps Stephanie), laundry done, books on the shelves, children happy and fed - it was like stepping right back into our life, no adjustments needed. And I don't know about Paige, but the kids definitely did not tire of her care. Today as I was getting Nels out of the van he looked me in the eyes and said, "Paige was good to me." Later in the day as we headed out on an errand he said, "Where's Paige?" but was satisfied when I told her she'd headed home (it helps that we get to expect Paige's mother Cyn tomorrow on a weekend visit - yay!).
P.S. I think Paige also fed them far more milk than they're used to from Ralph and I; I also think Nels gained a pound while we were gone.
It's good to be home. I'm currently cooking banana bread and a fresh, local Heart of Gold squash - stuffed with two kinds of rice, barley, tomato paste, garlic, spices, and cheese. It smells so amazing in my house you might as well not try to imagine it, because you can't, it's just that good. Today I have a refreshed outlook on housework and a more centered mind around time with the children, although I won't deny that yesterday had some rough patches as we got used to life as a foursome - and Ralph and my responsibilities - again.
Goals for the remainder of the week: be sweet to children, keep house clean during the day and enjoy more movie / cuddling / hangout time with Ralph in the evening.
P.S. I think Paige also fed them far more milk than they're used to from Ralph and I; I also think Nels gained a pound while we were gone.
It's good to be home. I'm currently cooking banana bread and a fresh, local Heart of Gold squash - stuffed with two kinds of rice, barley, tomato paste, garlic, spices, and cheese. It smells so amazing in my house you might as well not try to imagine it, because you can't, it's just that good. Today I have a refreshed outlook on housework and a more centered mind around time with the children, although I won't deny that yesterday had some rough patches as we got used to life as a foursome - and Ralph and my responsibilities - again.
Goals for the remainder of the week: be sweet to children, keep house clean during the day and enjoy more movie / cuddling / hangout time with Ralph in the evening.
Labels: food, friends, homesteading, Nels
yeah, I really don't know what to make of any of it
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Wednesday, September 12, 2007 at 9:40 PM.
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.
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.
that's right, ladies.
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Wednesday, August 29, 2007 at 8:29 PM.
No men. No kids. Some beefcake movie and good food. PG-13 / R-rated conversation. You up for it?
Labels: film, friends, party animal
our newest member and the beat goes on
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Tuesday, August 28, 2007 at 4:21 PM.Our kitty (se llama Harris).
Today my friend Jen and I carpooled our kids and went for lunch in the park. We tried to converse while being besieged by each of the four children, alternatively needing attention, lunch, water, help with clothes, advocacy with other children: the subjects Jen and I attempted ranged from marriage, her political campaign (mayor of HQX!), parenting, our own upbringing, parents' illnesses, employment, counseling. Later in her backyard the children strip down and play together mostly nicely and Nels, with a runny nose and feeling down today, wants me to hold him. I put my arms around him and Pearl Jam's "Yellow Ledbetter" comes on over the stereo. The song is such a nostalgic one for me. My friend I'm with today we've known one another since we were eight years old and now our own children approach that age. I think we have an understanding that has only strengthened now that a few years of family are behind us and our second childhood looms.
Today finds me with a sick child, a tooth-dangerously-loose child, a diarrhetic kitten, and a busted checking account. A few minutes before I take my kids home from our playdate and I'm wiping the nose of one and the blood off another (Sophie scraped her foot playing in the pool) and it feels like I'm a magnet and things just snap to me. Children and pets and husband hang off me when they can. It isn't at all uncomfortable for the most part, it still surprises me though. Motherhood, should you choose to take it on in any involved way, is endless, relentless, it never stops. It's beautiful, though, and my favorite thing to do so far (well, the favorite thing I can share publicly). Even our little kitty gravitates towards Mama; last night as I drowsed in the middle of the night I realized that in between in the blanket hammock formed between my legs in the figure 4 position - the little kitty slept and purred, a tiny, insignificant engine. In the morning then: homemade bread toasted, eggs, ripe pear for the children; milk for our grown Blackie kitty (pissed off about little Harris); fresh water and food for the animals. Clean up the breakfast dishes - "Kids, go wash your hands and brush your teeth!" and set clothes out and pack a lunch and then after the lunch and driving and playing and pulling off clothes and nursing sad children home to clean up kids and wash their clothes because they got muddy.
(update 3:56 PM: Sophie just lost her second tooth; she reaches symmetry again for a brief period).
Labels: family life, friends, Harris, HQX, kitty, milestones
i totally feel like i'm going to puke
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Wednesday, August 08, 2007 at 7:39 PM.
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.
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
an invitation
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Thursday, August 02, 2007 at 12:10 PM.
We are having a potluck next Friday; I'm going to make Greek food, and if you have had my Greek food before, you'll probably try to come. So if you live nearby and are not a creepy stalker (I do have at least one), please consider yourself invited. And please do RSVP.
Labels: food, friends, party animal
i probably shouldn't have stopped going to church
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on at 11:58 AM.
In some very small but acutely painful ways it would almost be better to have never moved away from, only to return to, my hometown. 12 years after leaving place of address I return relatively whole as a person - no longer obsessed with new parenthood, having accepted career hiatus, enjoying my family very much but open to experiences outside them. Then I encounter every possible repressed feeling of FOO, of old friends, old hurts, places with bad memories; places with memories bittersweet and nostalgic and feeling as if they happened to someone else. I feel out of touch (not what I want) from friends I used to hold dear. I try to reach out but am sometimes paralyzed by the worry they no longer will care for me. I love the town I live in but every now and then it feels so claustrophobic, as if I will live and die on this same spot and nothing could stop that (and would it be a bad thing?). All in all it can be, occasionally, very painful. I know if I never would have left it wouldn't be painful. I know if I never would have returned I perhaps could have avoided these feelings.
Living close to FOO is a mixed blessing, but so far I'm so glad I moved closer to them. I love them and I love spending time with them. They make me laugh, a lot. I have good boundaries with them. My mother in particular is so loving that any changes I go through, any requests I make, are listened to and usually honored. As well I enjoy being close to them as they live their lives in the ways they are seeing fit these days; I enjoy the thought I will be with my father as he experiences the last days of his life, however many those days will be (I'm hoping for a lot).
My small family took me out of commission for a while. It was a trap. I have always been interested in people and how they work; it's something I love thinking about, talking about. I did not realize this prior to breeding, but to have children is to watch a person form, in fact from the very beginning when they are a quickened fish-flop deep within your own body. Who could blame me that the experience absorbed me for a while? I feel in some ways terribly apologetic to my family, to my friends, to my husband, to my self - that marriage, family and child-rearing took up so much of my mind and soul. Things seem to be different now than they were a year ago. My children are just as fascinating, just as visceral and bone-deep, but I have also looked up and seen the rest of the world again. I am reading history books, I am thinking about the world's people and the world's children; I am trying to listen in to other people's lives with the listening ability so many have praised me for. I am wanting to spend time with my husband more than anyone else. It's hard to make that time but we both try.
As I write this my daughter sits on my lap. I can smell her hair and thinking about her dearness stings my eyes. She is not entirely a separate being from me although she thinks she is. No matter where my mind and body take me, they can always return to her. She can read aloud what I write here and although she can't understand my meaning maybe one day she will.
For now, the beautiful weather and an open day ask us to put our sandals on and get on the bike. We'll probably find modest adventures; watching my mom paint mayoral campaign signs, picking blueberries, getting a little sun. I hope to see you on the road!
Living close to FOO is a mixed blessing, but so far I'm so glad I moved closer to them. I love them and I love spending time with them. They make me laugh, a lot. I have good boundaries with them. My mother in particular is so loving that any changes I go through, any requests I make, are listened to and usually honored. As well I enjoy being close to them as they live their lives in the ways they are seeing fit these days; I enjoy the thought I will be with my father as he experiences the last days of his life, however many those days will be (I'm hoping for a lot).
My small family took me out of commission for a while. It was a trap. I have always been interested in people and how they work; it's something I love thinking about, talking about. I did not realize this prior to breeding, but to have children is to watch a person form, in fact from the very beginning when they are a quickened fish-flop deep within your own body. Who could blame me that the experience absorbed me for a while? I feel in some ways terribly apologetic to my family, to my friends, to my husband, to my self - that marriage, family and child-rearing took up so much of my mind and soul. Things seem to be different now than they were a year ago. My children are just as fascinating, just as visceral and bone-deep, but I have also looked up and seen the rest of the world again. I am reading history books, I am thinking about the world's people and the world's children; I am trying to listen in to other people's lives with the listening ability so many have praised me for. I am wanting to spend time with my husband more than anyone else. It's hard to make that time but we both try.
As I write this my daughter sits on my lap. I can smell her hair and thinking about her dearness stings my eyes. She is not entirely a separate being from me although she thinks she is. No matter where my mind and body take me, they can always return to her. She can read aloud what I write here and although she can't understand my meaning maybe one day she will.
For now, the beautiful weather and an open day ask us to put our sandals on and get on the bike. We'll probably find modest adventures; watching my mom paint mayoral campaign signs, picking blueberries, getting a little sun. I hope to see you on the road!
Labels: family life, friends, navelgazing
itemization & love from the deep south *EDIT*
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Wednesday, August 01, 2007 at 2:39 PM.
Today I bought:
2 lbs. bananas
2 lbs. broccoli
3 lbs. yukon gold potatoes
2.5 lbs. green beans
7 limes
1 pint raspberries
1 lb. champagne grapes
1 very large mango
3 avocados
6 ears white corn
3 lbs rhubarb (local)
2 dozen farm eggs (local)
The total was $22. The Farmer's Market ladies like me because A. I am obsessive about their eggs, and B. I know how to cook (as evidenced by their cagey reference to rhubarb custard pie where I rattled off my own know-how). Today while we were there Sophie also expressed concern that the green rhubarb they had to offer was not pie-able - turns out, it is, it's merely a green variety. The pair of hens at the register were so excited this girl tracked produce. It made me think about my time at the Farm last year; nostalgic, too, to remember it now.
For dinner I made rolled biscuits (Joy of Cooking), white corn on the cob, eggplant and tomato choka, butter beans, iceberg salad (w/Annie's Goddess dressing). My children ate everything and happily (as did Ralph and I - in our foursome Ralph the Corn Weasel, and Nels, Son of Corn Weasel, in particular seemed very pleased). I was thinking of a friend's child who was over for dinner and exclaimed about our food - "I like what you guys eat!" and I felt a good deal of pride over our nightly ritual together.
Today my Florida honey J. sent me 2 packages of clothes - equaling 48 pounds! 48 fricken pounds! You know what's slightly sad? My middle is too big for almost all the pants. Tops fit well, except for button-ups which don't fit across my chest. Amongst the many very cool clothes there was a small collection of long hippie-like skirts, a garment I've never worn before. I put one on because they were the coolest (temperature-wise) garments in the batch. My husband came home and immediately complimented my skirt - with some grabbing of the backside. I think he likes it because it gives the illusion of a full ass (rather than my very wide yet oddly flat version).
* Edit - I made a count of all the items J. sent me:
1 pintuck white Mossimo button up shirt, L
1 ON cami top, blue L
1 ON green tee shirt, M
1 ON raspberry tee shirt, M
1 ON blue tee shirt, M
1 LS brown pinstripe shirt
1 Mossimo blue v-neck, L
1 Mossimo lavender v-neck, L
1 white polo shirt
1 Mossimo white v-neck, L
1 ON brown v-neck, M
1 ON white v-neck, M
2 tattoo-art tank tops, L
1 ON tank, brown
1 ON tank, tan/lt brown
1 ON tank, white
1 ON tank, black
1 LS dark brown rugby neckline shirt
1 striped pullover shirt
1 striped tri-cot dress, S
1 pull over stretch paisley top
1 brown Olde Navy crinkle fabric top
1 pink & white striped button up long sleeve shirt
1 express LS top, red
1 LS merona pinstripe top
1 white LS peasant top
1 orange LS tee-shirt
1 striped j-crew boat necked top
1 LS blue button up shirt
1 LS black twist top
1 LS ribbed sweater, wine
1 LS ribbed sweater, charcoal
1 lg button up LS eyelet shirt
1 black sweater shrug
1 zip up striped sweater
1 ON brown zip-up hoodie, XXL
1 sporty zip-up hoodie, M
1 brown Ye Olde Man sweater. Needs buttons. Matlock!
1 brown tie-front st john's sweater
1 ezekiel green screen printed tee
1 LS black & pink pullover tee shirt
1 Indian paisley skirt, floor-length
1 floor length patchwork skirt
1 floor length brown linen skirt
1 brown spandex skirt with flounce
1 orange crinkle floor length skirt
1 eyelet skirt, M
1 gray rayon floor length skirt
1 floor length sequined black skirt
1 floor length black polyester skirt, L
1 angels' jeans, sz 11
1 IT jeans, sz 11
1 Bongo! jeans, sz 10
1 Bongo! jeans, sz 13
1 express jeans
1 a byer brown dress slacks
1 ON medium maternity jeans
1 dark blue stretch navy-button slacks
1 ON tech chinos, light blue
1 ON tech chinos, taupe
1 ON tech chinos, dark blue
1 Tommy jeans, sz 10
1 paris blues pedal pushers sz 8
1 Exhilaration black capri sz 11
1 off white Merona capri
1 taupe Mossimo capri
1 Levi low slouch jeans, sz 9
1 Mossimo goucho jeans, sz 11
1 ON white stretch jeans, sz 11
Thank you, thank you, J.!
2 lbs. bananas
2 lbs. broccoli
3 lbs. yukon gold potatoes
2.5 lbs. green beans
7 limes
1 pint raspberries
1 lb. champagne grapes
1 very large mango
3 avocados
6 ears white corn
3 lbs rhubarb (local)
2 dozen farm eggs (local)
The total was $22. The Farmer's Market ladies like me because A. I am obsessive about their eggs, and B. I know how to cook (as evidenced by their cagey reference to rhubarb custard pie where I rattled off my own know-how). Today while we were there Sophie also expressed concern that the green rhubarb they had to offer was not pie-able - turns out, it is, it's merely a green variety. The pair of hens at the register were so excited this girl tracked produce. It made me think about my time at the Farm last year; nostalgic, too, to remember it now.
For dinner I made rolled biscuits (Joy of Cooking), white corn on the cob, eggplant and tomato choka, butter beans, iceberg salad (w/Annie's Goddess dressing). My children ate everything and happily (as did Ralph and I - in our foursome Ralph the Corn Weasel, and Nels, Son of Corn Weasel, in particular seemed very pleased). I was thinking of a friend's child who was over for dinner and exclaimed about our food - "I like what you guys eat!" and I felt a good deal of pride over our nightly ritual together.
Today my Florida honey J. sent me 2 packages of clothes - equaling 48 pounds! 48 fricken pounds! You know what's slightly sad? My middle is too big for almost all the pants. Tops fit well, except for button-ups which don't fit across my chest. Amongst the many very cool clothes there was a small collection of long hippie-like skirts, a garment I've never worn before. I put one on because they were the coolest (temperature-wise) garments in the batch. My husband came home and immediately complimented my skirt - with some grabbing of the backside. I think he likes it because it gives the illusion of a full ass (rather than my very wide yet oddly flat version).
* Edit - I made a count of all the items J. sent me:
1 pintuck white Mossimo button up shirt, L
1 ON cami top, blue L
1 ON green tee shirt, M
1 ON raspberry tee shirt, M
1 ON blue tee shirt, M
1 LS brown pinstripe shirt
1 Mossimo blue v-neck, L
1 Mossimo lavender v-neck, L
1 white polo shirt
1 Mossimo white v-neck, L
1 ON brown v-neck, M
1 ON white v-neck, M
2 tattoo-art tank tops, L
1 ON tank, brown
1 ON tank, tan/lt brown
1 ON tank, white
1 ON tank, black
1 LS dark brown rugby neckline shirt
1 striped pullover shirt
1 striped tri-cot dress, S
1 pull over stretch paisley top
1 brown Olde Navy crinkle fabric top
1 pink & white striped button up long sleeve shirt
1 express LS top, red
1 LS merona pinstripe top
1 white LS peasant top
1 orange LS tee-shirt
1 striped j-crew boat necked top
1 LS blue button up shirt
1 LS black twist top
1 LS ribbed sweater, wine
1 LS ribbed sweater, charcoal
1 lg button up LS eyelet shirt
1 black sweater shrug
1 zip up striped sweater
1 ON brown zip-up hoodie, XXL
1 sporty zip-up hoodie, M
1 brown Ye Olde Man sweater. Needs buttons. Matlock!
1 brown tie-front st john's sweater
1 ezekiel green screen printed tee
1 LS black & pink pullover tee shirt
1 Indian paisley skirt, floor-length
1 floor length patchwork skirt
1 floor length brown linen skirt
1 brown spandex skirt with flounce
1 orange crinkle floor length skirt
1 eyelet skirt, M
1 gray rayon floor length skirt
1 floor length sequined black skirt
1 floor length black polyester skirt, L
1 angels' jeans, sz 11
1 IT jeans, sz 11
1 Bongo! jeans, sz 10
1 Bongo! jeans, sz 13
1 express jeans
1 a byer brown dress slacks
1 ON medium maternity jeans
1 dark blue stretch navy-button slacks
1 ON tech chinos, light blue
1 ON tech chinos, taupe
1 ON tech chinos, dark blue
1 Tommy jeans, sz 10
1 paris blues pedal pushers sz 8
1 Exhilaration black capri sz 11
1 off white Merona capri
1 taupe Mossimo capri
1 Levi low slouch jeans, sz 9
1 Mossimo goucho jeans, sz 11
1 ON white stretch jeans, sz 11
Thank you, thank you, J.!
Labels: family life, friends, gratitude, grocery opus, homesteading
staying afloat
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Monday, July 16, 2007 at 6:02 PM.
Our mini-vacation has come and gone. Ralph and I had a great time; our friends Cyn, Paige, and Chris came (along with two guest dogs) and we just ate, swam (yes, Ralph got a water fight - with only one opponent though), cooked (me only), and did dishes (sadly, a necessary evil of that last thing).
Sophie ran and jumped off the dock, swimming back to the end of the pier. She did this four thousand times, but each one I had to watch her swim back to the dock because her swimming still looks spastic and unreliable. I tried to look casual, not as if my heart was in my throat. Nels did not like the water so much; he mostly stayed inside, sometimes stripping nude and eating chips. Both kids got stung - Sophie by a wasp, Nels by a bee. Sophie helped me make Ralph's birthday cake and suggested pink frosting.
The drive home was easy and our newly-stung boy fell asleep before we reached the end of the driveway (I watched him carefully; he had the tiniest bit of swelling on his finger and it went down within 12 hours). We capped the weekend with only a brief stop home before heading to see Ratatouille. Then home to mountain of towels and vacation laundry.
Sophie ran and jumped off the dock, swimming back to the end of the pier. She did this four thousand times, but each one I had to watch her swim back to the dock because her swimming still looks spastic and unreliable. I tried to look casual, not as if my heart was in my throat. Nels did not like the water so much; he mostly stayed inside, sometimes stripping nude and eating chips. Both kids got stung - Sophie by a wasp, Nels by a bee. Sophie helped me make Ralph's birthday cake and suggested pink frosting.
The drive home was easy and our newly-stung boy fell asleep before we reached the end of the driveway (I watched him carefully; he had the tiniest bit of swelling on his finger and it went down within 12 hours). We capped the weekend with only a brief stop home before heading to see Ratatouille. Then home to mountain of towels and vacation laundry.
come sing me a happy song to prove we all can get along the lumpy, bumpy, long and dusty road
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Friday, June 22, 2007 at 10:29 PM.
Today a series of small but essential things happened that made me happy.
One, after checking in with my parents' home (and watering plants) I walked with my kids to a local sandwich shop and people recognized us and greeted us; a woman behind the counter said to her workmate excitedly, "That's the one that bikes with her kids!" This made me feel nice, as well as the fact my children ate every bit of their lunch then ordered their ice cream (each of them chose a horrid, electric blue bubblegum) in a very grown-up fashion. Their manners at restaurants are improving.
Two, after lunch when it seemed my son could not walk the whole way back home without incident (I had a cup of coffee to carry to boot) we crossed the street and I boarded the bus to Quinault in hopes it would get me a bit closer to my homestead. What I discovered immediately is that many people take this bus: it was more than 75% full and as soon as we climbed aboard they let out a collective gasp at my tousle-headed son, who is less than three feet tall and gets on buses with his hands in his pockets and in this case the pockets were in a handmade dinosaur costume. The driver kept trying to engage my son as I tried to ask him if he would be passing Emerson: "Yeah, yeah," he waved at me vaguely, still chuckling after The Boy who mustered dignity, excused himself past passengers, and clambered up in a seat. Soon this driver was blasting past my street of destination as I desperately scrambled for the cord to save us an even longer walk to our house. This whole time half the bus raptly watched my children whose bus-riding skills really are funny to watch, although Nels did nothing more than act like a little boy.
Three, this afternoon as I did dishes a friend called me. She and I talked about our sick fathers. We talked about another dinner and movie date, which is exactly each of our speed. I put it on my calendar and it's what I look forward to the most in July, second only to Ralph's thirtieth birthday where I get him something outrageous (but useful) for his birthday. (Except damn! Ralph has a new rule where we dont' have a kitchen gadget with only ONE function. Shit, I'd also been thinking about a sandwich grill. Back to the drawing board.)
Four, tonight another friend and her kids came over for dinner. Our four kids played marvelously together, and we had homemade pizza, veggies and dip, and more homemade chocolate cake. After our dinner my FOO came over; my parents having just arrived from their vacation. We talked about bears, churches, and I offered my mom as treasurer to my friend's mayoral campaign.
Five, Ralph took charge of the four children as my girlfriend, my mother and I hit a local bar for one drink and some good talk.
I am so glad to have a few very dear, very lovely friends here in HQX. I haven't yet seen much of them - honestly? I don't want to screw anything up. I still feel slighly hermitty and sad, so it is only right I'm not painting the town. It already feels "right" and normal to have my parents back in town; to know I can see them any time (or almost any time) I want. Even to know I get to take my dad milkshakes at the hospital while he gets his chemo or feel aggravated at their pet-like creature.
One, after checking in with my parents' home (and watering plants) I walked with my kids to a local sandwich shop and people recognized us and greeted us; a woman behind the counter said to her workmate excitedly, "That's the one that bikes with her kids!" This made me feel nice, as well as the fact my children ate every bit of their lunch then ordered their ice cream (each of them chose a horrid, electric blue bubblegum) in a very grown-up fashion. Their manners at restaurants are improving.
Two, after lunch when it seemed my son could not walk the whole way back home without incident (I had a cup of coffee to carry to boot) we crossed the street and I boarded the bus to Quinault in hopes it would get me a bit closer to my homestead. What I discovered immediately is that many people take this bus: it was more than 75% full and as soon as we climbed aboard they let out a collective gasp at my tousle-headed son, who is less than three feet tall and gets on buses with his hands in his pockets and in this case the pockets were in a handmade dinosaur costume. The driver kept trying to engage my son as I tried to ask him if he would be passing Emerson: "Yeah, yeah," he waved at me vaguely, still chuckling after The Boy who mustered dignity, excused himself past passengers, and clambered up in a seat. Soon this driver was blasting past my street of destination as I desperately scrambled for the cord to save us an even longer walk to our house. This whole time half the bus raptly watched my children whose bus-riding skills really are funny to watch, although Nels did nothing more than act like a little boy.
Three, this afternoon as I did dishes a friend called me. She and I talked about our sick fathers. We talked about another dinner and movie date, which is exactly each of our speed. I put it on my calendar and it's what I look forward to the most in July, second only to Ralph's thirtieth birthday where I get him something outrageous (but useful) for his birthday. (Except damn! Ralph has a new rule where we dont' have a kitchen gadget with only ONE function. Shit, I'd also been thinking about a sandwich grill. Back to the drawing board.)
Four, tonight another friend and her kids came over for dinner. Our four kids played marvelously together, and we had homemade pizza, veggies and dip, and more homemade chocolate cake. After our dinner my FOO came over; my parents having just arrived from their vacation. We talked about bears, churches, and I offered my mom as treasurer to my friend's mayoral campaign.
Five, Ralph took charge of the four children as my girlfriend, my mother and I hit a local bar for one drink and some good talk.
I am so glad to have a few very dear, very lovely friends here in HQX. I haven't yet seen much of them - honestly? I don't want to screw anything up. I still feel slighly hermitty and sad, so it is only right I'm not painting the town. It already feels "right" and normal to have my parents back in town; to know I can see them any time (or almost any time) I want. Even to know I get to take my dad milkshakes at the hospital while he gets his chemo or feel aggravated at their pet-like creature.
Labels: bus, FOO, friends, girl life, gratitude, Grazdma, Nels
"Oh yeah, 'cause we all sell apples 'round here, don't we?"
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Monday, June 04, 2007 at 9:48 PM.
Today my day started out like this:
This morning I'd looked forward to a half-day trip with my parents and my children to Olympia (hereon out called ORLY) [ that's good! ]. Instead I get an eleventh-hour bailout from my mom [ that's bad! ]. I mean, I don't want to get too personal or TMI but she basically had some sort of shitstorm going on that meant she couldn't be more than ten feet away from a commode. So suddenly I find myself with my mean ole dad and my son, and no Mom nor the pleasure of her company nor the gravy-train Visa card of hers for lunch, and no help wrangling The Boy, on my way to a more-than-half day errand which I have to run because my dad has fainting spells so it's not safe for him to drive himself.
I sure hope she had fun on that crapper this morning. Oh, and to be fair; she retained Sophie and took her to school and afterwards too.
Tonight I got a date I'd looked forward to; I went out with a girlfriend for dinner and a movie - dinner at Ocean Shores' Galaway Bay (a caesar salad and Fish Tail Ale for me), the movie Hot Fuzz. I laughed so damned hard during the entire protracted ending, which achieved levels of satire combined with heart in a way I had previously never seen. I would have re-watched the movie instantly afterwards and I can say I haven't really felt that urge before. I can't wait for Ralph to see it.
And speaking of Ralph - he sent me this article today (in part of his effort to write a Father's Day editorial, an idea he stole from a friend of mine). I have always loved Carolyn Hax and this is just more evidence. I almost got teared-up reading what she wrote. And yeah - "That's good!"
This morning I'd looked forward to a half-day trip with my parents and my children to Olympia (hereon out called ORLY) [ that's good! ]. Instead I get an eleventh-hour bailout from my mom [ that's bad! ]. I mean, I don't want to get too personal or TMI but she basically had some sort of shitstorm going on that meant she couldn't be more than ten feet away from a commode. So suddenly I find myself with my mean ole dad and my son, and no Mom nor the pleasure of her company nor the gravy-train Visa card of hers for lunch, and no help wrangling The Boy, on my way to a more-than-half day errand which I have to run because my dad has fainting spells so it's not safe for him to drive himself.
I sure hope she had fun on that crapper this morning. Oh, and to be fair; she retained Sophie and took her to school and afterwards too.
Tonight I got a date I'd looked forward to; I went out with a girlfriend for dinner and a movie - dinner at Ocean Shores' Galaway Bay (a caesar salad and Fish Tail Ale for me), the movie Hot Fuzz. I laughed so damned hard during the entire protracted ending, which achieved levels of satire combined with heart in a way I had previously never seen. I would have re-watched the movie instantly afterwards and I can say I haven't really felt that urge before. I can't wait for Ralph to see it.
And speaking of Ralph - he sent me this article today (in part of his effort to write a Father's Day editorial, an idea he stole from a friend of mine). I have always loved Carolyn Hax and this is just more evidence. I almost got teared-up reading what she wrote. And yeah - "That's good!"
seis de mayo
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Sunday, May 06, 2007 at 11:32 AM.
Currently drinking: Tully's coffee.
Currently contemplating: buying a Viking Husqvarna Classica 105 used from a friend.
Currently wearing: slutty earrings, Nero kitten t-shirt.
Currently doing: leaving for Olympia for a barbecue at my friend Amore's; I made a very special chocolate cake to bring along.
Currently contemplating: buying a Viking Husqvarna Classica 105 used from a friend.
Currently wearing: slutty earrings, Nero kitten t-shirt.
Currently doing: leaving for Olympia for a barbecue at my friend Amore's; I made a very special chocolate cake to bring along.
bikin'. and stitchin'.
Published by Kelly Hogaboom on Saturday, April 28, 2007 at 7:21 PM.