A List

Time for one of those list type blog postings.  A couple reasons for this: 
1. I can't get my thoughts organized cohesively enough to make blackberries segue nicely into ballet, or homeschooling segue into bacon.  Actually, there's a lot of bacon in homeschooling, so that might work. 
2.  I should be making a list of homeschool supplies instead of a list of nonsense.  But I'm not.  And it's getting harder to deny that school is starting soon.  Stoopid back to school specials and sales and commercials.  How am I supposed to bask in denial and procrastination if ad genius' keep throwing it in my face?  Also, I want a Trapper Keeper.  And Sharpies...lotsa Sharpies!

So here are my thoughts, happenings, and desires, posted in a lovely numbered format for you.  Try to keep the excitement to a minimum.

1.  Last night my smurfs (or is it smurves?) picked blackberries on the side of the road.  Today, we make pie.  It's another reason to love Oregon, the wild blackberries.  They are delicious.  Gianni eats them as fast as I can pick them (obviously he can't pick them himself, he's far too busy eating them).  He has a strange fear of "pokies," something I believe his hypochondriac sister instilled in him, so it takes him approximately three weeks to approach a bush.  We also weren't dressed for picking last night (we were supposed to be taking a bike ride but were ambushed by a strange and irresistible jonesin' for blackberries five minutes in) and so I was forced to carry him a bit.  He was nice enough to lay his head on my shoulder and cheer me on by saying, 'you can do it, Mom!  I'm not heavy!  Just a few more miles to go!  Yaaah, Mommy!'

2.  My first column for Home Educating Family came out this month.  I'd love to tell you how great it looks, but I sort of am not a subscriber.  Yet.  I will, I swear!  But the Trapper Keeper comes first.  Budgeting is everything.  Anyway, if any of you readers subscribe would you tear out the article entitled Everything I Need To Know I Learned in Sunday School and mail it to me, please?  Thanks.  It was based on this  original blog posting if you want to refresh your memory.

3.  We have found a house we very much want to rent so I will let you know if the landlady accepts us.  Thinking of delivering fresh blackberry pie to her... It's a super cute 1950s house (yes, very us) in a lovely neighborhood. 

4.  I entered my first writing contest, but alas, did not win.  I didn't expect to, but it would have been a nice shot of motivation.  Ah well.  Still plugging along on the book: 25,000 words!  That's a quarter of the way through!  Yaah me!

5.  We bought a second car from some of our closest friends, which is just another step in the Get Thee Back To Normalcy Project we've been working on since June 15th.  Before you know it, we'll be living like YOU!  Like EVERYONE ELSE!  Joy, rapture, hallelujah, and pass the bacon!  I'm going to dig myself a wonderful rut and never come out.  You'll all wonder, where's that strange girl with the fifteen children and the pink carpet and the crazy lifestyle? and I'll be like, here I am, in the rut down here!  Basking in normalcy and writing a book.  That's me.  I may even, I don't know, get a gym membership or something totally Americana like that.  Or a Starbucks punchcard!!!  Oh yeah.  Totally getting one of those.  And shop at The Gap!!  Nah, I'm never gonna do that.  I went on a date with my LuvahBoy last weekend and we went to see Crazy, Stupid Love (cuz when you've been married more than ten minutes the husband goes to see what the wife wants to see) and there's a scene where Ryan Gosling (who may or may not be married to me in The Movie in My Head) tells Steve Carrell he is better than The Gap.  And then he makes fun of his Great Clips haircut, which made us laugh because we had literally just walked out of Great Clips not two hours before.  With a coupon. 

6.  Nutella has become a food group 'round these parts.  If that's wrong,  Roo and Moose don't wanna be right.

7.  According to my stats if you type in Fondant Preacher in a search engine, you will eventually be directed to my blog.  I find this funny, odd, and weird, since I don't recall ever in my life having written a word about fondant.  I've never used the stuff.  Wanted to, but never have.  I can't buy fondant when I need Sharpies and magazine subscriptions.  Also, silverware, beds, garbage cans, towels, chairs, and all that other stuff we have need of and don't own, but would look great in our 1950s style rental house.  Dishcloths, waste baskets, curtains, pillows, soap, spoons, bowls, water glasses.  Good grief, I should be making lists of other things... Pots, pans, footstools, why did my font just change on me?

8.  I don't actually have anything to say about bacon, sorry.  Except that's it is excellent on potato and leek pizza. 

9.  When we went to the coast a few weeks ago, we all went zip lining.  Great fun.  Gianni had no fear, quite like he is in water.  Segue into...: the little water rat taught himself to swim.  He's only three!  What the??  I don't know if I like it.  Water scares me.  Anyone who knows me, knows this.  I think it goes back to when Cora disappeared during the Episode of Which We Do Not Speak.  She was gone for an hour and a half at the age of four, lost in the mountains and I really thought if the kidnappers didn't have her, then I would find her face down in a stream somewhere.  At least, that's my psychologist take on it.  Maybe I've just seen Jaws too many times.  Whatever.  Anyway, the last thing Moose needs is more confidence in the water, so I'm not sure his doggy paddle is something to be happy about.  If only the water was full of "pokies" he might exercise a little restraint.  Anyway, I would put photos of the little man zip lining but it would make his Gramma toss her cookies, so I won't.

10.  I don't have a #10 but you can't end a list on a 9.  That's be weird.

The Problem with Bathrooms These Daze

Once upon a time this blogger watched an episode of Oprah that mentioned that toilets spray their contents like in a six feet radius when you flush them.

I am not OCD about a ton of stuff, especially dirt/grime/bugs/snakes/germs type stuff.  I'm the mom who lets her babies eat all the dirt their little hearts desire, to the chagrin of their aunt.  Mud pies are good for the soul, I tells you!

But that sorta grossed me out.  The toilets, not the mud pies.

Unfortunately, I have a boy, a man child, a wee human who has been fascinated with the ol' loo since he could toddle on his chubby legs to it.  He used to flush all sorts of things down there.  Mostly deodorant caps...the occasional Superman action figure.  Lunch.  He doesn't do that anymore because he uses the toilet for what it's designed for, which you'd think would be great.

Except.

Except he has to hug the thing in order to flush it. We're talking straddle it, both arms akimbo, drawers down, face unbearably close to the very pot.  I can tell him till I'm blue in the face to pull up his big boy undies, stand aside, and then flush with one finger, but it ain't gonna happen.  He has to make out with the toilet.

And my toilet isn't gross.  I have myself plus my pre-teen army of two to clean it regularly.

But Walmart doesn't.  And 711 doesn't.  The park certainly doesn't.

And even when he's not in there with me (because he's standing under the hand blow dryer with a dreamy look on his face, letting his golden locks fly free) I still get grossed out because those stalls are built for fairy children and elves.  Seriously, I'm 5'3" and not hugely overweight and I have a heck of a time fitting in there.  Closing the door almost causes me to fall in the bowl.  Which would be grodie.

So you're supposed to flush with the lid down - according to the World According to Oprah - but they don't have lids!  So the next best alternative is to jump at least six feet away as you push down the flusher, right?  Well, no, you can't do that because the stupid toilets flush on their own now.  Who invented these things?  Cuz he obviously didn't watch Oprah.  There is no possible way to get out of the way when there is no lid to close and even if you could jump up fast enough and break through the door, you'd have your skivvies down to your ankles.  And no one wants to see that.  Also, you would trip on your purse that you had to set down on the four inches of floor space in the stall because the purse hook is busted.

In case you couldn't tell, my five minute run to Walmart was 40 minutes because Gianni had to do #2 twice.  And that is why I share my dissatisfaction with automatically flushing toilets and Oprah and her impossible to follow advice, with you.

You.
Are.
Welcome.

The end.

On my mind

Not Georgia.  Never been.  Would like to, but only in say, January.

Yumminess. It's what's for dinner.

My Moose peeking at me as I type from behind bars.  The bars on his top bunk, don't fret.  In a minute he'll climb down and accost me with his savage morning breath.  It may melt my face, but I can take it, cuz he's my Pooky Head.

Trying to convince Pooky Head to get a haircut.  He is opposed.  He may be a hippy before I know it; hanging out on the corner, wearing love beads and tie-die, driving a VW bus and crashing my commune.  Hey, get your own commune, boy!  I was clear on the tie-die rules.

He just asked me if I was typing to the boys.  That makes me sniffly.  I miss them.  You guys reading this? I MISS YOU TURKEYS!

Finding a house.  Always starts out So Incredibly Super Fun, then slides down the Richter Scale to Not As Much Fun, then all the way to This Is Frustrating.  Scouring craigslist though just never gets old however.  I can buy a wheat grass juicer!!  Not kidding.  I can commiserate with the mad guy who wrote a diatribe about property managers exploiting all his money for application fees and then telling him the house he wants is already rented to someone else (except I'm not at the point where I'll cuss about it and use all caps.  Yet).  I also liked the ad for a wine rack that announced WINE NOT INCLUDED SO STOP ASKING!

Babies.  I can't help myself.  If anyone has an extra, please mail me one immediately.  My neck has not been drooled on for quite some time.  Dang Moose is about to be four.  What happened to my baby??  Did he eat him?  I need someone to snuggle and cuddle and hug and kiss and name George.

First payday on Thursday!!!!  Do the payday dance!!  Pirouette and chasse, pas de bouree, and LEAP!!  Repeat!  One more time!  This time, FASTER!

Settle down and have a wheat grass smoothie.

Speaking of haircuts (yes, we were, try to focus, dear reader) Cora wants one.  My little tomboy.  I'm thinking of allowing her to get an Audrey Hepburn pixie cut but only on the promise that she'll wear cute headbands, or barrettes and learn to style it.  Thoughts?  Not you, Papa, I know you like it long; other people's thoughts?

Seeing my bachelor brother get hitched soon.  I hope the Mr. and Mrs Downum enjoy their wine rack (WINE NOT INCLUDED, SO STOP ASKING!)

My book.  I'm at a stage where I feel as though I'm writing filler...books are long.  How do authors churn out all these books?  I'm creatively depleted and I'm only on 16,000 words. 

Breakfast.  See ya!

Working for a living!

I just realized I forgot my lovely and loyal blog readers - all four of you - may not be up to date on the fact that HubbyMine got himself a job!  Sorry to have not mentioned that little fact; I guess I assumed that the shout of joy and victory was heard 'round the world.  Also, through Facebook.  But anyhoo, we are employed and have been for two weeks now.  He was actually offered TWO, count 'em, TWO jobs on the same day, which was an amazing thing.  Seeing as how we are so very much looking forward to living in The World's Biggest Rut (no more hair brained schemes - or is it hare brained? - and no more adventures, thankyouverymuch) we chose to take the lesser paying, but also less stressful one.  We are so very blessed.  Thanks for all the juju, prayers, good thoughts, wishful thinking, and positive thoughts you all sent our way.  You have no idea how much your sweet comments and loyalty meant to me in this nutty, zany, tear drenched year of mine!

Oregon Trailings

I haven't lived in Oregon since I was a wee little sprout.  Actually, I was a 15 year old sprout, but I was fairly wee considering I stopped getting any taller at the age of 11 and was on a strict no fat, no dessert diet for that year.  I wore a size 2, and lived on carbs because I had no idea that those were not diet foods. 
Anyhoo, I'm back in Oregon and very delighted to be calling it home.  Medford is a cute town, surrounded by mountains.  I'd post pictures but our laptop is pushing up daisies and I'm not smart enough to know how to put the memory card thingamabob in the correct flashdrive attached to the right console whatchmacallit on my in-law's computer.  I can only do that with the laptop.  So, close your eyes and picture it with me:


Trees


Mountains


The Ginger Rogers Theatre!


The Ashland Shakespeare Festival


Rolling wineries.  Well, I guess it's the vineyards that are rolling, not the wineries, per se. Unless you've spent too many hours there, sampling.  HAHAHAHAHA!


My favorite places to shop: Ross, The Grocery Outlet, TJ Maxx, and a plethora of thrift stores.


The Oregon coast 90 miles away.  They have the ocean, don't you know.  Also, crab.  And crab cakes, and crab patties, and crab salad, and crab omelets, and crab chowder.  And shrimp!  And shrimp gumbo...and shrimp - well, you get the picture.


a Dutch Bros coffee stand on every corner.


A pediatric dentist who said Gianni and his teeth should just be left alone!  Joy and happiness!  Rapture! 


A choice of swim teams for Miss Cora.


Lots of rental houses that are snatched up too quickly which I find extremely annoying.  We can't move until Oct 1, which means it's actually too early to start looking.  Which I find extremely annoying.  Somewhere out there is a house for meeeeee!  With a vacancy sign so you can come see meeeeeee!  Gianni and Milo are both good snugglers, you'll be in very good hands. Er, paws.


It's not too far from Idaho, my other home.


Did I mention the crab? And lobster!  And lobster stir fry, and lobster pancakes, and fried lobster, and baked lobster, and lobster with gobs of mayonnaise.  That last one was a shout out to Ginger, and the first person who tells me what movie she said that in gets a lobster!  Not really on the lobster prize.

What I'd Like Right Now

Not in whiney, pity poor me, kind of way, because let's face it, my life is beautiful, but in a day-dreamy, picture in my head, kind of way:

                                                      A bed that's big and soft and grown up.

                                               A trip to one of these with a gift card in hand.

                                                                              A home.

A Nook.  In case I finish my book and want to actually READ it.  Also because it would be nice to have instant reading in my purse.  Nothing brings on a panic attack swifter than being stuck at a swim class, dentist appointment, or family reunion with nothing to read.

                                                        A porch to do said reading on.

  A bit of stinky cheese and Merlot while sitting on my porch in my home with my used books/Nook.

What do you day dream about?

I Dance With The Rice Krispy Boys

These days I am lucky enough to be teaching ballet again.  We're talking Creative Movement, guys.  Some Pre-Ballet.  Maybe a Ballet 1A.  Half the class is spent trying to convince little Kaitylyn to come in the studio and the other half is spent trying to untangle tiaras from leotards.  Nothing majorly hard, right?  Right.  Long gone are the days when I could do something like this to impress little glitter bedecked princesses:

...or this spiffy number:

...or even this:

Umm, not entirely sure that last one was ever possible. 


But nowadays, as my bones snap, crackle and pop their way down into the splits, I look more like this:

I am not sure when old age crept up on me, but creep it did.   In fact, old age is a creep!  Yes!  I said it!  Take that, Mother Nature!  Or is it Father Time I should be blaming?  They're probably in cahoots, staying up late at night conspiratorially muttering ways to wrench my hip, slip a disk in my back, and pull my hamstrings.   Not to mention cause wiry gray hairs to grow in places I didn't use to have hairs.  Ahem.  Anyhoo.


I swear, today I was sitting on the floor with my little angel monkeys in a side split - a REALLY pathetic one, at that - and as we pretended to paint the air with beautiful colors and then stretch over to our neighbor's feet, I about passed out.  My legs were screaming obscenities at me and my back let out a crack that was heard round the world.  And I didn't even know my legs could cuss!  They used to be well behaved legs who would never dream of cursing in the ballet studio.  Back before Old Age hit.


"Can we do leaps now, Miss Melyssa?" the little pink  whippersnappers clamored. 


"Miss Melyssa has fallen and can't get up, kids...umm, how about a water break? Don't you guys need to go potty?  It's been like, three minutes, for the love of Baryshnikov, someone's gotta pee by now, right?"


"Leaps!  Leaps!  LEAPS!  With crowns and wands and fairy rings!!"


"Absolutely,"  I croak, and try to raise my head off my knee where it has been stuck,  "Just help Miss Melyssa up...and I'm gonna try to not throw up. Yep.  OK, I need another minute.  Leap without me, girls.  I'll be right there.  As soon as I pop my hip back into place.  AAAAARRRRGH! There we go, my little tutu-ed drill sergeants...I'm back."


Yes, indeedy.  I'm back.


And I need some Motrin, a heating pad, and a bottle of something red, STAT.