inner space

Maggie: What is the name of that inappropriate planet again?

Layla: Uranus.

Maggie: oh yeah. haha.

And then they just kept right on playing with teeny tiny plastic frogs. Kids are cool.

thankful for

my life, my love, my health and my sense of humor. I feel mixed about the way time has taken to flying recently, it makes things all frantic and jumbled, but it is making Christmas come much faster, so I am excited about that.
Merry Christmas, hope you enjoy the magic of the holiday season.

what's not to love?

Today I am thankful for warm breakfast. I have never been a big cold cereal fan (except sometimes count chocula as a midnight snack), I take my breakfast warm. Savory breakfasts are my favorite, but I also really love muffins (as if you didn't know). I made these this morning expecting a friend to join me. I ended up breakfasting alone, but since the muffins are so amazing, I didn't even mind. My family will also be thankful when they get home, these are more like a cake dessert, but we can just call them muffins so they don't carry the guilt of breakfast cake.

Coconut Almond Muffins
1 Cup flour
1/2 cup sugar (you can use a little less, these are pretty sweet for me)
1-1/4 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1 egg
1/2 cup sour cream
1/4 C melted butter (I use coconut oil)
1/4 tsp almond extract
1/2 Cup flaked coconut
1/4 cup chocolate chips (i love the minis)
1/4 Cup sliced almonds

*in a bowl combine flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. In another bowl whisk the egg, sour cream, butter and extract. Stir into dry ingredients just until moist. (dough will be very thick) Fold in coconut and chocolate chips.
*using a 1/4 cup, fill muffin cups. Sprinkle with almonds and a little extra sugar if you'd like.  Bake at 375* for 18-20 minutes or until tops are golden and a toothpick comes out clean.
Makes about 9 muffins.
These could win a ribbon at the fair, but since I'm not into that, they will just win a place in my heart. These muffins will impress people, make them.
You're welcome.

there's always December!

 It is popular in November to be thankful each day for something that makes your life awesome. It is also popular to share these wonderful things via some form of electronic media. Please hear me when I say that I am, indeed, thankful, and I am also pleased that you are. It does get a little cloying though by the end of the month. Like apple juice. F'ing apple juice.  It is so sweet, I want to love it, but I just can't in my deep down heart. (it doesn't even really taste like apples does it?)
Anyway, because I am a big fan of being ironic, and also because I am actually very blessed, I decided to hitch my ass to the wagon. (You KNOW I don't jump. 40 pounds of boobs are not conducive to flying into the air of my own accord)
I saw a post about being grateful in December (every day, which of course is very different than being thankful every damn day in November. Come on people.) The point (in case you are thick) is to focus on the good, and not the stress and ridiculousness of the commercialization of the holidays. (ok, maybe that is just what I think it means, feel free to think for yourself here. Please. Really)
So, in the spirit of gratefulness, I am going to share some things that I am thankful for. (Probably not daily, because let's just be honest here, commitment to any daily task isn't really my gig. If this was a project that involved large amounts of butter or napping it would have a fighting chance.)

The first thing I am thankful for is kind of amazing, but I promise you it is true. (I only tell the truth, it's just my way) So, if you know me, you know that the Janina fan club includes 1 member of Alan's family. It is Alan. I somehow brainwashed him in the early 90s without the use of any (good) forms of sex, drugs or rock and roll (still all true) and yet, 20 years later, he is still here. Amazing, I know. For some reason (or most likely loads of them) the rest of his family hasn't fallen for me yet. This has been a huge stumbling block for me for most of my life. I just can't quite accept that the family of man that I love more than my life, just can't like me. Ouch.
And then I got a facebook friend request. It was from Alan's Uncle Earl. Why me? Really? Fine, whatever. Friends indeed. Except, (and here's the lesson kids) he isn't anything like I expected him to be. Shame on me! Uncle Earl is a gay democrat, and from what I gather, he is also a retired ice dancer!!! Shut the front door! (I KNOW!  a DEMOCRAT in Alan's family! wow. Mind=blown)
Anyway, the thing I am grateful for today is discovering a kinship with a member of my family in-law. Better late than never I say. Now that Uncle Earl and I are going to be buds, I am kind of figuring out why they have kept us a secret from each other all of these years. It has a little to do with possible world domination, but you didn't hear it from me...

bald is beautiful

no, this post isn't about my (extremely) handsome husband, it is about my kids.  They are not bald, but their behavior makes me feel like pulling my own hair out, so soon, I may be.
Parenting is one of those things you can't explain. I can't adequately express to you the feeling of frustration that it gives me when I witness one (amazing, talented) little girl, harass and annoy another (equally as wonderful) little girl. It is especially maddening since I happen to have made them both myself. 
Since I am the adult in this particular scenario, I am also under the obligation of responding with some type of appropriate behavior. I would like to be candid and tell you, that does not usually happen.
When I think back to my childhood, I don't remember much (which I am also banking on to happen with my kids, they can just remember Christmas and Disneyland and everything else can kind of melt away into the abyss) I mostly remember big things like helicopter rides, Marine World, and the chocolate factory (NOT Willy Wonka's). But I also remember my mom being this kind of ethereal adult, that kind of floated along taking care of things, totally in control of herself and the situation.
I know this isn't actually true, because she told me as much, but that is how I remember it. (and it's still how she acts now, all clever and unaffected and champion like. It is possible that it is actually true, and she is just trying to make me feel better. That would totally be a "Mom" way to behave.)
Long story short, it was kind of a rough morning. The girls started in on each other first thing. I got involved. There was drama. (with 2 little girls, there is ALWAYS drama) I could have raised my voice (ok, yeah, that happened) and then we hustled out the door for school.  I hate starting a day this way, so I snuck cute little birdie love notes and stickers into their lunches, and when we were in the car, I apologized to them.  Layla was all strong and silent, and Maggie was smiling and quick to forgive. "It's ok Mama, I love you!"
Here I am still stewing about it, an hour later. Layla probably is too. I think it is important to take a lesson from a 6 year old and learn how to quickly forgive, and also let people know how much we love them.  Silly little disagreements shouldn't shape our days, because pretty soon days become years, and all of the years together, that is our life.
I know that some day the girls will be adults themselves, and be looking to me for answers about things like this. I will tell them that they are amazing, and how much I love them, and have them call my mom.

yay me!

Not long ago I went to a little hippie workshop, and got a lot of guilt for things I should/could be doing better around the house. Prepared food, plastic products, etc. Yeah, yeah, I freaking already know, leave me alone ok?! Well, she also told me that by choosing my $4 mocha at Starbucks, I was not only pretty much funding the Saudi oil czars, but also slash burning like 400 million square football fields of rain forest with each sip. Ouch. You know how I love me some rain forest.
I immediately came home and finished up all of my Starbucks via packets (oh, how I love thee) in the interests of the tarsier. I went and got a bag of organic french roast coffee beans out of my pantry and made the change to french pressed straight away.  This was the big change that I made after the workshop. Yay me.  I also switched to organic half and half instead of my very favorite almond joy coffee mate (that makes me happy on the inside and the outside). I am not going to lie, I wasn't happy about the creamer. Yes, I know it's made of crap and chemicals and I can't pronounce half of the ingredients. I KNOW! But it's yummy and coconutty and I love it.
After a few days of good (not great) coffee, I decided that I was going to have to make my own coffee creamer. Bold, I know. I googled a bit, and thought about it, and got to work. I would now like to share with you my amazing recipe.
Janina's organic kick ass coffee mate
(makes you happy on the inside AND the outside, and also saves your body and helps save the rain forest for the tarsiers and bonobos)
1 can organic coconut milk
1 can organic sweetened condensed milk
1/2 cup organic (Equal Exchange) drinking chocolate
1 tsp. pure almond extract
put the milks in pan, warm it up, add the chocolate, stir it up real good. When it steams, take it off the heat and stir in the almond extract.  Put it in a glass jar and keep it in the fridge.  I imagine it will be kind of like pudding when it gets all the way cooled, so be sure to have an opening where you can get at it with a spoon.
Enjoy!

Also, just so we are clear, I am never (NEVER) giving up paper towels, I love them, and they are handy. Or toilet paper. Or shampoo. (the list goes on) I do promise to do my best, and be a good steward of the earth while I am a guest here, and to only go to Starbucks when it's an emergency.
Also, I wouldn't mind a homeless, orphan, tiny, baby bonobo for Christmas. (Just in case Santa reads this)

in real life

Since the days have been darker and colder and wetter, the kids are now allowed to participate in more electronic media. They always love to play wii and watch tv, but in the spring and summer, the answer is usually no.  Now that sending them outside to play isn't always an option, the no's have slowly transitioned into yes. The girls are beyond thrilled, I have parental guilt. And on and on it goes.
This morning Layla is playing Super Mario Brothers and as usual, there is complete domination happening on screen, while Mags (her ever faithful cheerleader) is yipping and dancing in the background. I think she is the coach, since she keeps barking out instructions. "GET THE TUBE!" "DUCK!" "WATCH FOR THAT FLOWER!" I have no idea what they are doing, but listening is really fantastic, and I like how they can both participate without both of them actually playing the video game.
In a wonderful example of play imitating real life, I just overheard this discussion:
"Oh please Layla, don't kill them, they are so so cute!!"
"I don't want to kill them, but they are EVIL!"
"Just let them be....CUUUTTTEE!!"
"Listen up, they are going to kill me. They are evil, I have to get them first!"
"But. They. Are. SOOOOOOOOOOO CUTE!"
(haha, I have had this exact same conversation with Alan lots of times, although it isn't about flying frogs in video games)
Then, without a thought, she totally annihilated them all. It makes the decisions easier when there is a rule book. Unfortunately, parenting doesn't come with one, but if it did, I'm sure #1 would be DON'T KILL THE CUTE THINGS.
Sometimes, you just gotta laugh.

joke of the day

Maggie: What is brown and sticky?
me: ?
Maggie: A STICK!!!

this is (of course) my new very favorite joke.

big girl pants

so I think that funny people are all kind of fucked up. Seriously, with a few exceptions, everyone that I know who is pee your pants funny, is also kind of, well, mental too.  If you haven't noticed, I am pretty funny...

I have spent a while being depressed.  It isn't a choice, it is an affliction.  It is nasty, like an infection and spreads if your not careful, so that soon it is all over you, and hard to recover from.  It's not contagious, but the people around you certainly suffer when you have it. Lucky for me, the people around me are completely awesome, and love me even harder when I am horrible, so in the end everything will turn out ok. I know this to be true, and it is one of the things that keeps me going.  The other is that I have been through it before. I know that sometime, it will be over, and I can be happy again. Maybe not today, but if I keep waking up, and going through the motions for long enough, one day, things will be better.
Also if I eat mass amounts of deep fat fried food and ice cream, that will help. and vodka. (ok, well maybe help isn't really the right word-but it certainly passes the time)
Until that day, I will pull up my big girl pants and deal. (they are made of fleece and have polar bears on them, just so you can get a proper visual) and most likely fuzzy socks too. and chocolate. (wonder if I could pull another last minute trip to Mexico out of it..too much? yeah, I kind of thought so too. Wonder what the time frame on that is?)

As always, Maggie has perfect timing.  I just got this. Thanks for the reminder sweetie girl.xo

 Let's do this.

face lift

I played around on the blog for a while today to change things up a bit.  I want to put my own picture in the back ground, but I am all on my own with figuring these things out, so for now, it is this.
I also tried to track down "Travis" on Facebook, just to see if he was anything like I remembered.  It took a short amount of time (pretty amazing really, since I couldn't remember-or didn't ever know-his last name, or the last name of the friend that introduced us) I think I found a pretty good candidate, and he looks NOTHING like my memory. (you know, since it may or may not even be him) Ha. Life is funny like that.  The Travis I found has a wife and a daughter, and a whole entire story of his own. It's funny how that happens, life just goes on for everyone.  I bet he doesn't even remember me. Anyway, he (like me) has gained some weight, is happily married, and (not like me) is covered in tatts. Looks like it worked out for everyone.  I love a story with a happy ending. (even when it includes a little internet stalking. oops)

my own advice

Well, things have changed swiftly around here lately. Both of the girls are now enrolled in public school, and I am working on opening a little gift shop with a new friend.  I don't know (yet) if it is actually something amazing, but it is keeping me very busy, and the girls are loving school, so it seems like a really nice fit for us for now.
(que flashback)
Once, when I was much younger, and ridiculously cuter (wish I had a picture, it would be my profile on facebook for sure) I met a boy. His name was Travis, and he was dreamy. I mean, not of this world good looking. And charming, and funny. We hung out for one day and fell in love. (love might not be quite the right word for it) anyway, he asked me to marry him and made me all kinds of promises for the future. Man, he was cute. (and he could wear some jeans!) We spent the evening laying in the tall grass, holding hands, looking at the stars and whispering things. We had one day. It was 100% innocent and sweet.  I never saw him again. Nothing exciting or tragic happened (too bad, I could have sold the screen play) but it has always left me with a feeling of "what if."  
(back to reality)
I have always wanted to have a shop, and this opportunity was handed to me, so I decided to take the leap.  I am a lucky girl to be sure, and also quite clever some days. I decided that if something unlikely (and beautiful and amazing) is handed to me, it would be foolish to turn it down. I have a fun, sweet memory, and a wonderful husband who I adore (who also happens to blindingly support my silly ideas) and now I will also have a real life shop.  I thought for a minute about calling it Travis, but decided it would require too much explaining, and also probably extra marketing, so it is called Whim.  Much better I think, and still captures the feeling I have about it.
Perfect.

I was right.

I usually am.

There were so many amazing things this time (as always). I swam in the warm cyan waters of the Pacific, with brightly colored tropical fishes, I ate so many wonderful meals, with tastes that don't even exist here, and enjoyed beautiful, soft sand beaches that most people only ever read about. Mexico makes me wish that I could process more, feel more, enjoy more, and remember it all. It is a sad truth that almost immediately, the sharp edge of the moment is dulled by the next experience that follows closely behind it. It is wonderful and tragic all at once. There are so many shades of light that dance across the endless horizon, aromas that gently play around the edge of your consciousness, memories so wonderful yet gentle, that you can't quite be sure they actually happened once they are gone.

So many things in life just can't be adequately expressed with words, and yet, if we don't write them down, we will certainly have already lost them.
I got to hold a tiny sea turtle baby on the day it was hatched. It was about 2 inches long and very, very strong. I held it in sand covered hands, and then set it down on the beach, to try and make it's way to the ocean. The guide told us that 1 out of 1000 baby sea turtles survive, so most likely my little baby would live a very short life. But, just maybe, mine would be the one. Nothing is as powerful as hope. It only takes one. Do something amazing today.

late night

or, in this case, early morning.  It's 4am, and I am waiting for my airport shuttle.  I feel excited and anxious all at the same time.  The thing is, Alan takes such good care of me, it has been a good long bit since I have had to really worry about taking care of myself.  This little trip is going to be a good chance for me to depend on me for a change.
I am all packed in a backpack, I have a bathing suit and my camera. Starbucks put out the salted caramel, mocha frappuccino yesterday (I'm pretty sure, just for me) and something amazing is going to happen soon. I can feel it.
Until then...

read the label

As a parent, you try not to label your kids. (right?) But it happens. Layla is the oldest, she is smart, outgoing, and independent.  Maggie is the baby, she is cute and cuddly and funny.  Not that Layla isn't funny, she is, but her sense of humor is more reserved than say, mine, or that of Mini Me.  Sometimes she surprises me.
This just happened.
Layla was at the kitchen table playing magician. She was wearing a magical cowboy hat. (obviously)  She was doing card tricks for her audience (her American Girl Hazel).  I heard things like, "pick a card, any card. Ooooh, you got the 17 of penguins!" (hah) Then I heard her tap dance to the bathroom and call out..."AND FOR MY NEXT TRICK!!  I WILL NOW MAKE THE WASTE FROM MY BODY DISAPPEAR!!!" then a flush and "TAADAA!!"

Pure awesome. I love that girl. Guess I should look closer at the labels. Word. Lesson learned.

a new day

My dad is cancer free! What a fantastic idea.  I like to think that even when shitty things happen, they leave, in their wake, the opportunity of something good.  There is not a better reminder to appreciate your health, than being at the hospital, beside the bed of a loved one.  It is a familiar place for me, but even I can always appreciate a gentle reminder.
  I also got a chance to remember how much I love being home, and my bed, and my fridge (and snack drawer). And Alan. Of course to add to it just a little, I got sick myself (just a cold) and have been on the mend for a few days. Oh irony, leave me the hell alone already. It's not funny any more and I am tired.

Layla starts 3rd grade at public school next week, and we all have mixed feelings about that.  We are excited but anxious. (Mostly me) I am also looking forward to having just one "student" at home this year.  Maggie is glad to get some extra attention for a bit, and I am glad to be able to give it to her.  The girls are growing and changing so fast, it's hard not to miss some things.  Maggie has no front teeth and Layla's reading has really taken off. (also she has aged about 20 years this year and insists on parenting me ALL of the time. As if I can't handle it myself.....ok, good point)

On a brighter note, I cashed in my award miles and got myself a ticket to Puerto Vallarta. I talked a friend into going with me, (it will be hot, HOT, and sticky humid) and we are excited to spend some much needed time in the shade and the pool and the bar.  It is sea turtle season and I am beyond excited to finally get to release baby sea turtles!  It is something I have always wanted to do, and since we usually travel on the other side of the year, I always miss it.  Mostly I am excited to just get away. Turns out that parenting and cancer and diabetes and stress are a lot for this girl.  I am hoping to return refreshed and revitalized and ready to tackle the school year. I will get back just in time to get packed for Las Vegas.  Alan is taking me to celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary. (I know! I AM too young to have been married that long! I still scold my mom for allowing such a thing to take place. I mean, it all worked out in the end but, GEEZ!)

I am thankful every day that I don't have to live with 99% of the decisions I made when I was 15. And I am thankful every day that I still get to live with one of them.  I love you Alan.

no dice

well, I didn't get the job.  When I found out, I felt a wave of relief. Guess it just wasn't in the cards for me this time.  I didn't have much time to dwell on it, as we have had a very busy few weeks.  I survived the 11th (and most likely last) Blochtoberfest, we had a trip to Klamath, and I sent Layla off to diabetes camp.
Back to my role as SuperMom. I got some school clothes and lunch boxes ordered, and found both of our class supply lists from June. (yay!)  Maggie and I are enjoying some one on one time, and I am looking forward to a few down days before we head to Eugene for Dad's surgery.  Doctor and dentist appointments, and camp outs and picnics will fill our days until the first day of school, which is currently only 21 days away. and counting.  Somehow this seems unfair since we just started having summerish weather. (read as not raining)  I am undeterred, and have lofty plans to plant some greens and herbs in my new front garden beds. Nevermind it's already mid-August, bucking the system is my style, so I am going with it.
In other news, we were recently adopted by a chicken. It really likes corn chips and tortellini.  Layla has named it Brittany. (tell me things like this happen to everyone)  We are trying to make it leave, it is insisting on staying. The cats are absolutely no help. It sleeps on a cooler on the deck and goes peep peep.

uncharted territory

Today I face the dawn of a new era. I will put on pantyhose and mascara and try to sell myself. Not like that.. I am going to a job interview.  It's the first one in about 11 years or so.  I made "the" muffins for breakfast, as to start off the day right, and have gotten a few minutes of reading in, which I love.  I used a blow dryer, (first time in years as well, I live kind of a casual life) tried out my new Kat Von D tattoo eraser, and will be getting all zipped up into my dress as soon as help arrives.
I had a lengthy conversation with myself in the shower, answering all of the interview questions well, and impressing everyone. (ok, there wasn't anyone, but, you know) Next stop, the International Air and Hospitality Academy, where I have to try and WOW them with my amazingness.  I feel overwhelmed and under confident. I hate being weighed and measured. And judged.  I am needing luck. Lots of it.  Here's hoping for good news.
I will keep you posted.

a good muffin is hard to find

I love to eat good food. Love it. (obviously)  Muffins are one of my favorite breakfast choices, but it has to be the right muffin.  It has to be moist, and not too chewy, the crumb has to be right.  It can't be a costco or Spunkmeyer muffin (which aren't really muffins at all, just small dense cakes with no nutritional value).  I am kind of a muffin princess.  I have a fall back muffin recipe that I have modified to be just right, and I use it a lot, but I was looking for something more.
Yesterday, I found a new recipe.  I didn't really hold out much hope, but I made it anyway since we needed breakfast for a crowd.  The result is my new favorite muffin. Oh happy day! (probably other girls don't get as excited about breakfast breads. they haven't had this muffin.)
make these now.

One bowl oatmeal muffins
plan ahead to make these as you have to soak the oats for a bit. It's worth it.
makes 12 muffins (doubles great)
1 cup milk (I use almond milk)
1 tsp white vinegar
1 cup oats
1 egg
1/4 brown sugar
1/4 cup melted butter (or coconut oil)
1/4 cup applesauce
1 cup plus 2 Tbsp flour (I use half whole wheat)
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp vanilla (or almond, depending on your mix ins)
mix ins of your choice (I like coconut and mini chocolate chips) but you can use 1/2 cup of anything you like

combine oats, milk and vinegar in a large bowl and let sit 1 hour for rolled oats, 15 minutes for quick oats. (they will absorb most of the liquid)
Preheat oven to 375*, grease muffin tins or line with papers.
Crack the egg into the oat mixture, add sugar and mix to combine.  Stir in butter, applesauce and vanilla.
Stir remaining ingredients into the bowl: flour, salt baking powder and soda.  Gently fold into batter, careful not to over mix. Really, this will ruin your perfect muffin. Don't do it.
Fold in your mix ins.  Fill muffin cups 3/4 full, (I like to top with some coarse sugar before baking, I like the sweet crunchy top) bake for about 15 minutes.  The tops will be golden and the tops will spring back when touched.

You're welcome.

bread and jam for me

I love home made raspberry jam.  It might be me very favorite thing of all.  I love the beautiful and amazing color of it, I love the sweet, tangy taste of it, I love the way it gently mounds on the spoon when I scoop it for my toast, I love the jars lined up like little soldiers, wearing ruby jackts on my counter.

I think Frances said it best:
"Jam on biscuits, jam on toast, jam is the thing I love the most.
Jam is sticky, jam is sweet, jam is tasty, jam's a treat.
Raspberry, strawberry, gooseberry,
I'm very fond of JAM!"

Yesterday the sun poked out for a moment, and we went to the farm down the road.  We picked over 12 pounds of raspberries, and this morning I made jam.  It's hard to be unhappy when you have raspberry jam. and Frances.

tiny hands.

they are getting so big.

summer time in a jar

perfect.

summer who?

so apparently summer has decided to skip visiting us here in the Northwest this year. I do not accept this, so I am behaving as if it is summer time anyway.  I am wearing summer dresses and sandals and drinking frosty beverages.  As always, cold beer and iced tea top my list of favorites, but this year I am taking it even further and have introduced iced coffee on a daily basis (how have I lived this long with out it?!) and also, since I am fancy, I juiced a watermelon. That just happened.
I got my iced coffee recipe here, from the Pioneer woman.  It is called perfect iced coffee, and I totally, completely agree. The only thing I do different is use 1.5 Cups of coffee grounds and 8 cups of cold water, this is a more manageable amount for me.  I have a big jar steeping on the counter right this second.

My other discovery is watermelon juice.  The jury is still kind of out on this one, but I want to play with it a little and think it could be a big winner.  On this, my first attempt, I cubed the watermelon, put it in my blender and whooshed it up until it was (wait for it...) juice.  Then I put the entire batch through a filter and it made beautiful, rose colored liquid.  I used one baby watermelon, juiced half of a lime into it and added some simple syrup.  I just can't seem to get on board with less is more, so into my own glass, I decided to add some elderflower concentrate (sounds fancy, but I got it at IKEA) and 7Up.  The resulting drink was lovely, but interesting.  I think maybe watermelon lemonade would be delicious, and also maybe using the watermelon juice for frozen pops would be something the kids would love.  Watermelon mint?  I don't even love watermelon and I can't stop thinking about it.  Watermelon juice tastes just like summer.  I miss summer.

little things

taptaptap. It's 3am. I open my eyes to find Maggie inches away from my face, standing next to my bed.  Before I have a chance to respond she is climbing up the side of the bed and snuggling into the covers.  She whispers to me "mama, can you spoon me?"  aw.  And so the serving spoon snuggled up to the baby spoon. (where the baby spoon immediately drifted off to dreamland for the next 5 hours, and the serving spoon got her blankets kicked off and her pillow stolen)  She woke up promptly at 8 and rubbed her tired eyes. "Mama, sleeping with you is my favorite thing."  Me too baby.
Who needs sleep? Not this girl. (yawn)

it's hip to be square

**NEWS FLASH**  I am not cool.  (hard to believe, I know)  I have always pretty much been aware of this fact, but it was actually confirmed by my 16 year old niece the other day.  She was talking to her mom and made an offhand remark about how she "probably even wears packaged underwear".   The tone and look that accompanied this sentence was neither appreciative nor flattering, as if it were the worst thing you could say about a person.  It was VERY clear that everybody who is anybody apparently wears hand picked (singly purchased) panties. It was brought to my attention that not only am I not currently cool, but I have, in fact, never, not ever (except one time in college, when I received a Victoria's Secret gift card) been cool.
Ouch. BOOM!
There goes all of the hard work I put in curling (and back combing) my bangs for the entire 80s, there goes my pegged pants with layered socks (alternating colors on each side), there goes that 3 months I freaking STARVED on the Atkins diet, AND my ultra hip overalls in high school. Always, underneath, I was wearing packaged undies.  No matter what I did on the outside, it wouldn't change my less than amazing under things. If only I had known. Le sigh.  You know what?  Nope, I was born a cotton girl, and I will live each day secure in that knowledge.  It softens the blow a little that I have always hated the cool kids, and was never interested in being one. (maybe way, way down deep, but mostly not even there, it's just not my style)  If I were to have a label it would read more like redneck, hippie, funky clown. Cool? not even a chance.  Fun? You bet your sweet ass. 

ps, nobody wants to see this booty sporting a whale tail. Your welcome.

psps, these opinions are all my very own, and I have not been compensated by Hanes in any way.  Although, I totally should be, since I ROCK the cotton boy cuts that come in a 3 pack at Target.

what do I say?

Layla had a high blood sugar, it was a reminder that it is new site day.  She peeled the Tagaderm off of the old site, and a layer of skin with it, leaving an open wound. Bleeding.  We had to discuss new site placement, which is always hard.  She cries to plead her case.  "Please Mama, not my belly. It hurts when the needle goes in, and it hurts every time a drop of insulin pushes through." Her nose is running now, and she is wiping tears. I am strong. "Maybe my leg." 
I move aside the fabric of her skirt to find a place that would work.  One leg still has a raw red spot from the last time she had a site there, and the other leg still has an angry, open hole from a previous site that she has been bothering.  It itches, and hurts, and without thinking, her hand goes to it.  No good spots here.  I try to stay strong.
Her arms are so thin that there isn't good placement, even though she doesn't mind them there.  She doesn't have any body fat, so she is building up lumpy tissue under her skin from being pierced so many times in the same, delicate area.  Arms are not a choice this time.
We are running out of options, her body is small.  I finally decide on the placement, she disagrees, we push on.  She cries.  They are strong, quiet tears. The worst kind.  Her body is shaking when I place the set. My strength is wavering.  She asks why she has to have diabetes.  I don't have an answer for her. I never do. I pet her hair and bite my lip. It's time for bed.
I just heard her ask Alan as he was tucking her in, " how do we get it out?"  She wants the disease out of her body.  My dad has cancer, she has heard us talk about him getting it removed.  He will be ok.  She wants it out. She wants to be ok.  She doesn't understand. There isn't an answer. There isn't a cure. I can't fix it.  
She is so brave and strong.  We fake it, we make it look easy. But it is hard.  We don't want to let it get us down.  We don't want you to have to know what it's like. We don't want to be different.  We don't want to be afraid, but we are.   My heart breaks a little every single day.

why I had kids

so we used to have this "discussion" before we had kids:

me: but they are so cute! and I want one really BAD!

alan: they are so much work, and cry and are stinky!

me: (ignoring alan's brilliance and wisdom. as always) they have cute tiny outfits with MATCHING SOCKS!!

alan: blah blah (who cares, I think we all know I am getting a baby if I want one)

me: GAH! I can't live another day without a baby!!

alan: you are insane, this is a horrible idea!

me: you know you want one.

alan: well ok, maybe we could just adopt a teenager so they can cook and do chores.

etc, etc, etc. you get the picture.

So, as you probably figured out, we had a couple. They are really cute, and also, like, a billion times harder than I had predicted. (SURPRISE!)  Alan says things to me like: "extreme lack of foresight on your part."  Whatever Alan, who asked you anyway?
And then today happened.
Maggie just walked in and handed me this:

she just invented it. It is a strawberry, with the stem cut out and a dark chocolate kiss poked into the hole.  The only way it could have been better is if the hole was full of whipped cream vodka before the chocolate "cork" was put in. (but hey, I'm not a critic, and she's only 6, so...)
Lack of foresight Alan?! I think not. Lawyered!

ps, spellcheck doesn't like "foresight" and keeps recommending that I change it to foreskin. (although, technically still correct. Extreme lack of foreskin on my part. indeed.)  Who uses big words like that anyway? Sheesh. See what I have to put up with?! Good thing I have a good sense of humor. (and a personal chocoberry delivery service)

Happy Solstice

Today is the first day of summer and we are having a celebration.  The sun is out, I had fresh squeezed orange juice for breakfast on the patio, and a good friend is coming to share the day.  Life is good.

Enjoy the sunshine!

summer shorts

so, if you know me, you know I am a spaz. It's not an official (diagnosed) medical condition, just too many crazy ideas firing off all at once in a tiny little brain, and all demanding attention right now. If it sounds familiar, you probably have it too, I think it's just called real life. No medication needed (usually), just occasional naps and beers and lots of laughing and you'll be just fine. (probably. I am not a doctor, but this is what I tell myself)
Anyway, I had so many things happen last week that I wanted to talk about, I decided to just share them all, in short story (or even staccato sentence) form.  It's new! It's fresh for summer!  Get used to it, lots of stuff, fragmented thoughts, this is my way. Welcome to summer shorts.

My hair smells really good.

I have decided that coconut/almond/chocolate is my second favorite flavor combo EVER (after tequila/lime/salt. heh)

Q: how long does it take two little girls to eat $9.99 worth of organic raspberries?
A: about 3 minutes (sigh. this is not a joke)

I love Alan more than anything. Seriously.

(we are at my cousin's house, she has 3 daughters between 6th and 10th grade)  Layla sniffs the air and says: "What is that SMELL?!?  It is kind of good, but mostly really strong!"  I reply "it's teenager." (word)  A few hours later Maggie walks in, wrinkles up her nose and says "It smells like teenager in here!!"*  haha-true story. Still laughing about it.

*after giving it some thought I have decided that teenagers smell of a mix of something tropical (maybe pineapple or coconut), flowers, hair spray and nail polish/nail polish remover. (kind of good, but mostly really strong.)

My dad has been diagnosed with prostate cancer, it is early and slow growing, he is scheduling surgery and should be fine. I am holding off on the worry until they tell me I have something to worry about. (yay me) I also happen to have a good friend that works in the field and has set us up with a fabulous specialist, he really is in the best hands. Surgery will be sometime this summer, our summer schedule is subject to change based on this information. Please be flexible.

I love love LOVE my new cedar soaking tub, it makes me feel like a princess. (and also skinny since I just bob around in there like I am weightless (which I am NOT).  Come to find out, you are really buoyant if you are only 5 feet tall and mostly boobs)

ok now, I have saved my favorite for last.
wait for it....
I go down to Eugene to meet with my folks to go with them to Dad's doctor's appointment. (Come ON- you knew this was a Dad story!)  Dad is feeling anxious about the appointment, and we are all hungry and irritable as it is past lunch time.  We are in the mall and Mom and I are discussing heading to the food court to find a bite to eat.  Dad says he wants demands a White Castle burger. (never mind I have no idea where to find a White Castle, and I can't eat anything on the menu)  We load up in the car to get Dad his burger.  It is kind of all about him for a bit, and I am fine with it.  He swears he saw a White Castle on their way in from the freeway. We start heading in the right direction when he gets all excited. He has found the White Castle. Except, what he actually found was this. Castle Megastore.  (Knights and Damsels welcome)  There is NOT a snack bar here, as it is a porn shop. Megastore actually. He said he didn't care, and wanted to go in anyway. (um, no.)  I started laughing so hard I peed a bit, and I proceeded to the taco time down the road.  He was sulky and quiet as he ate his taco.
Later, after the appointment we take him to happy hour (he has earned it).  The waitress smiles and asks him what he would like to eat.  He looks at us and says,  "Ask them what I want, they didn't let me have lunch where I wanted, I doubt they will let me pick now!"   He is actually still pissed that I didn't take him to lunch at the porn shop. Note to Dad, the "edibles" section isn't what you think. I'm not fooling with you, IT'S REALLY NOT WHITE CASTLE!
oh. My side hurts.  This will be funny every day for the rest of forever. You can't make this stuff up folks.

answers to the name of Lucky

Have you ever seen the poster about the poor dog? I feel really "lucky" most days. I find myself hanging on by a thread, but in the end, still so happy to be living it. All of it.

My grandma tells a story of a bunch of people seated around a table. They are all heavily burdened, and decide that possibly they would rather have someone elses problems than their own. A swap is organized. Everyone puts their problems and worries out in the middle of the table to trade away, and in turn choose a new set to call their own. When they can see what the others are dealing with, eyes bulge, jaws drop, people gasp. Then quickly and quietly, they all gather up the burdens that they came with, and leave as fast as they can.

I get it. It's a good reminder.  Sometimes it's harder to see the big picture when you are so focused on your own stuff.  This last month has really felt like a trial, but things are slowly but surely shaping up. (Thank goodness!)  Hopefully soon the sun will come out for a longer stretch and I can spend some nice time outside breathing fresh air.  I have some fun things planned for us for the summer break and have lots to look forward to in the coming months.  Once again I am reminded about perspective, and how even though when times are tough, I have so much to be thankful for.  I am indeed lucky, and have the scars to prove it. What I have been reminding myself lately, is to enjoy the journey. It's long, and it's winding, but if I take a minute to appreciate the scenery, it is absolutely, breath takingly beautiful.

I love you Gram! (thanks for the reminder)

Profound

Today's wisdom is brought to you by Maggie (age 6):
"Every day is a tomorrow, even today is a tomorrow!"
Yes, Love, it is. Wow.
She followed it up by making a box turtle out of spaghetti noodles, lentils and pinto beans. (at the crafty summer camp that Layla is currently running in the kitchen.)  It's ok to be a little jealous. My kids are pretty awesome. (and they are available to rent, for the right price. Let's talk.)

"Tobin the box turtle" by Maggie

                      noodle turtle by Layla (craft camp director)

P is for poop

The end of the school year is upon us, and by the end of next month we will have gotten through our second year of home school!  The girls have their last classes this week (even though we are supposed to continue lessons through June), and Maggie had her last day of kindergarten yesterday.
When we got home Layla spent the afternoon painting printer paper with black paint, and made Maggie a graduation cap, along with an award certificate for her big day.  Maggie wore the cap (once it was dry) and they had a little parade around the living room while humming pomp and circumstance. Very appropriate. (which is new for us. ha)

At long last I got my hot little hands on Maggie's alphabet book, which she has been working on all year. It is amazing (I may be biased, but probably I'm not, and my baby is a prodigy) and I am thrilled to finally get to call it my own!  (you may remember it from this post) The holy grail of kindergarten projects is now mine. I am one happy lady.

P is also for proud, which is how I feel about my girls.  We have made it through another year, and we are all still pretty much intact. I think a pizza party is in order. (with beer. for me.)

and now, because I love you, and it was too good to keep all to myself:

My new favorite thing. 

Q is for Queen

official "you have graduated!" certificate,
 and home made graduate's cap (with tassel). priceless.

you can't always get what you want..

even though I am kind of used to getting just that.  I had to go and mention irony, and in it's true fashion, it turned around and kicked me right in my ass. Not cool Universe, not cool.
As it turns out, a mere week after seeing the balloon, I wished I had it.  My mother in law was on her way in to hug us goodbye, and hit the road back home to Alaska, when she fell out of the camper (in my driveway... on her way to say goodbye) and broke her femur. True story. The paramedics rolled (you may remember the young hotties that they keep at our local fire department down the road, from when they paid me a special visit on Valentine's day '08 after plunging a meat thermometer through my vegetarian hand..oh sweet irony, you've bested me again. Will I ever learn?!(this is said with reverence, not as a challenge, please understand))
Anyway, sweet young things came to my rescue once again. (sidebar: would it really be too much to ask that once, just once, when I had a need for emergency assistance, that a distinguished gentleman, or woman, would come to my aid? What is with the part time models thinking it's fine to be paramedics?! As if when someone has to cut your pants off, in the driveway, (yes it did), it is too much to ask that they could they just look like my mom, instead of the boy that didn't take me to the prom in high school?! SHIT!) Whisked my mil off in an ambulance, and then with a sideways smile, invited me to Starbucks. Um. Never mind. (my life is so weird)
She goes to the emergency room, and then gets admitted for emergency surgery. Alan meets his folks at the hospital, and calls me later to pick him up there. His car is dead in the parking lot. **shaking fist at irony** Car gets towed from ER parking lot. Etc..Etc..Etc....You are starting to get the picture.
Fast forward to today (since I wish I could). When everything gets all straightened out again, man am I going to appreciate it. Forever. I am sure that I don't need anymore tests of my strength, or mental stability (since I think we are all on the same page there..) 
The sun is supposed to be out tomorrow.  If they served spiked coffee at Starbucks, I might would take Mr. Hottie McFratboy up on his offer for a cuppa. Alas, we are knee deep in school, appointments, and packing to have any time for decompression, so onward. I will take it like a woman. Dominate.  (or hang on by a thin thread, but do it wearing my best jeans, so at least my butt will look good)
Then, when all of this has passed, I will try to look back and laugh, happy to have survived. (then try to forget most of the details)

ps, I also survived the end of the world, which was predicted to be this last weekend.  Guess I'm not done here yet. Although, truthfully I was almost looking forward to it. I am tired.

meds? yes please.

They say that laughter is the best medicine. I agree. Nothing can turn your day around like a good, body shaking belly laugh. The longer the better.  I also like to keep these on hand to take as needed:
beer/tequila
brownies/tater tots
good girl friends
sunny days (need to get this refilled)
fuzzy pants
naps
monkey sex (as in crazy style, not as in with monkeys)
mochas
discount retail shopping (deals=shopping high)

If you don't notice a change in symptoms, or your symptoms get worse, layer two or more (the more the better, preferably all at once).  If you don't notice a drastic change in 6 months, something stronger is necessary. Most likely it could be fatal (to those around you) and/or contagious, so your best bet is some short intense isolation.  Heat usually helps kill any surface troubles, but the important thing is to heal from the inside out.  These things take time.  Maybe pre schedule another "session" for 6 months out.  You can never be too careful.

why didn't I think of that?!

I told Alan that I should write more when Dad is here.  He seriously cracks me up. Alan noted that someone already does that over at shit my dad says. Geez, every good idea I have has already been done. Or overdone.  Although, looks like that guy has been falling behind lately. (Probably because he got a book deal AND a sitcom on a major network, starring my favorite piece of Shatner.)
So I will keep plugging along here, and if you don't hear from me for a while, it's probably because I went and got super famous and forgot all about you. (or possibly I got lost, or the kids have me locked in a closet. Maybe check those out first before quitting your day job to follow my tour as a superfan.)

mama said there'd be days like this

So the other day, Dad and Alan were at the liquor store to get some libations to help us to celebrate cinco de Mayo.  As they were paying for the goodies, the store attendants were locking up the doors because it was closing time. Apparently the employees were turning away wanna be customers left and right. 
The boys walk out of the store with their bottles in paper bags and a lady comes ripping into the parking lot and swings to a stop next to them. They say the car had the bumper duct taped on, the headlights were all wonky and it was sporting other "home made" fixes as well.  She spills out of the car and runs over yelling "I will give you TWICE what you paid!!" (without even knowing what they have in the bag).  They laugh and Dad jokes "I'm sure we can work something out.." They jump into our car and come home.  Later, (a few drinks in) they are recounting the story to us and expect me to laugh. (ok, I did. a little.) Um, did you hook her up? I asked. No, Alan says.  She was all freaky and strung out. "Who are you to judge? I have had that EXACT same day lots of times", says me. "You gotta help a mama out! "
Turns out he was trying to help out this mama, and was worried I would have a similar reaction if he showed up empty handed. On second thought, great choice. Cheers.  She probably didn't have strawberries for the chocolate/whipped cream/ berry shots anyway.  Better luck next time friend.

isn't it ironic

Irony. I am a fan, but I also have respect.  I am always a little nervous that I might die on my birthday, understand that sometimes you will get completely screwed (not the good way), when you are trying to do the right thing, and with my luck I will probably have ALL of the winning lotto numbers the week before they are called.  It's funny, really, it just takes a solid sense of humor to appreciate it. 
Today I was at the hospital with Dad (for a follow up finger appointment, totally routine) and wandered into the gift shop. (of course)  I found a balloon that said "you are in our thoughts and prayers" Um, really?! Not actually balloony, people!  I can't believe I have to explain this, but balloons are for celebrations, parades, and for dumping on your head when you hit the big jackpot. (not when your friend or loved one is lying in a paper robe, in the hospital, with a flesh eating bacteria)  I mean, if someone is in your thoughts and prayers, maybe a nice card, or some flowers would be a good choice.  I am not claiming to be the classiest broad ever, but come on! 
I almost wanted to get it just to have it on hand for emergencies. Baby shower? Quinceanera? It would ALWAYS be totally, inappropriately awesome.  Dad had the best idea: Put it with a HUGE bouquet of black balloons and bring it to a funeral. Taadaa!  You have single handedly just turned the entire event into a party.  Your welcome mourners, you can now tap the keg and party down. Happy I could help.

If not me, then who?

The "meeting" with the little girl (who got spit on) and her mama went as to be expected. That is to say that we were humble, and apologized, and were looking forward to moving on. I sat there quietly while she went on about how the behavior my children have now, can affect people well into adulthood. (um, yeah, so? they happen to be kids, have you heard of it?) Then about how Layla has always behaved this way. (since they have known her, almost 2 years. ps complete BS) and she also went into an area that seemed to me to be questioning my parenting. (really?!) Layla also sat quietly (after giving her sincere apology) with her eyes swollen and red from crying (for reals this time). I thought it went pretty well, I managed my behavior, and learned a couple of valuable lessons: you can't be friends with everyone, and also, sometimes people that look perfectly normal on the outside, are completely bat shit crazy.

Later I was recounting to my mom the way things went and she was appalled. She couldn't believe I just sat there whilst BSC berated my daughter and myself (for no reason). In my mind I was just surviving it, so we could be done. To Mom, we weren't standing up for ourselves or what we thought was right.

My whole life, my mom has been no one to reckon with. She is sometimes severe, and has even been called a bitch. (true story, unbelievable I know) I used to think these were less than complimentary terms, but as an adult I realise that, even though they sound bad, they are just adjectives like any other. I clearly remember a piece of advice that was "Janina, someone always has to be the bitch, and it might as well be you." This my friends, is TRUE information.
I sat in that classroom, letting someone else be the bitch. I let an adult pick on me and my child. I like to think that every negative experience is an opportunity to learn (this way, it's not just a horrible thing that happened, we can also grow from it... yeah) My mom is a strong woman, and always stands up for those that don't have their own voice. I think of myself as a strong woman, but if I see something that I don't think is right, more often I will just let it go and try to not get involved (since that is the easier and more comfortable route to take).

A favorite quote is this "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has." (Margaret Mead)

Maybe just surviving isn't enough, if I can't stand up for myself or my children, who can I trust to do so? Being an adult is more than just getting older, it comes with the responsibility of being the voice for those of us who aren't as strong, or able to do it themselves.

I remember once at the mall (cringe), I was probably in high school, we saw a mama (I use the term loosely here, as to me it is a reverent word) yelling at her very small child and grab him by the ear and twist it. We were across the store at the time, and Mom shot over there like she was wearing a jet pack. I remember the feeling right now. I was more than embarrassed, I was mortified. She proceeded to inform the lady that what she was doing was no way to treat a child, and that if she didn't stop immediately, Mom was going to do something about it. (I am trying to melt into the floor at this point) I honestly think before that day, I had never been so humiliated in my life. (possibly never since. probably I have though, and was just too drunk to remember..) Anyway, that memory has stuck in my brain ever since, and I just realized, just a minute ago, my mom is a freaking SUPER HERO. I would have died a little inside seeing a child treated in that way, but I think I would have not gotten involved. I'm sure it was uncomfortable for her too, but she felt convicted, and knew that if she didn't stand up for that little boy, right then, no one would do it.

I think maybe bitch is a synonym for strong, or maybe even badass (neither of which are negative terms). As an adult now, I realise that it takes guts to be strong, it is far from easy, and there is always a fight. If I was ever to tangle with anyone, Mom would be the first person I would pick to be on my team. Damn right she's a bitch. Someone has to be. Lesson learned. (also, now that she has moved me to action, she will be the one I call to post my bail.) Thanks MOM!!!

ps, new favorite quote: "Well behaved women seldom make history."  indeed.

hello again.

After an on again, off again relationship, where I have been lifted to my highest highs, and plunged down to my lowest lows, where I have been sweetly tempted, and then left feeling depressed, lost many sleepless nights, and wasted so so so many empty calories, it is back on. Coffee, be mine, now and forever. I am sorry that I tried to ignore you, when the whole time, your dark, rich kiss helped me get through early mornings, and hard days. My breakfast is hollow without you, I want to wake up to you every morning. I dream of your smell, and the way you taste in my mouth, the way you make me feel. I think this is the real thing. I love you.

And, in other news.......

Layla had an incident the other day. A mom approached me in the school parking lot visibly upset. She proceeded to tell me that Layla had pushed her daughter in class (this wasn't the first time she claims) and then Layla SPIT in her hair. Um, WHAT?!?!
This mom was shaking and sounded like she could pop a vessel at any moment.

Well, I had just survived a lengthy visit from my in laws and I tell you, if I was ever ready to get into a fight, today was the day. I calmly set down my basket and got ready to rumble. I had so much pent up aggression I could have body slammed "the Rock", this little mousy haired, station wagon driving mama had NO IDEA what she was getting herself into. (I almost felt sorry for her...almost).

I guess she was smart enough to see the crazy in my eyes, or felt like I could handle the situation from there, but she scooted right along, which was a good thing for us both.

Please know that I am no stranger to getting the boot, but looking back, fist fighting another mama over my daughter's bad behavior would probably not send quite the right message. (bonus points for me realizing that, before actually getting us all expelled from the program-yay me!!)

Fast forward to a few hours later after I have endlessly grilled Layla about this entire ordeal. I am shouting (since spitting in hair is totally not how we behave...well, I guess unless provoked. oops) and she is crying. And crying. And crying. I am having a hard time getting past it. Why would she behave this way?! What made her think that her behavior was acceptable. She spends the next 2 days with me spouting questions and expletives in a tourettes fashion, and her looking VERY sorry and remorseful, almost fighting back tears the entire time. Or so I thought.

This morning she woke up with her eyes stuck shut, and I find out that the swollen, red eyes she has had these past two days are not from her guilt over her bad behavior, but pink eye. That's right, she has conjunctivitis. Thank you, thank you, I am now going to accept my "Mother of the Year Award".

Whatever, I took her to the doctor first thing, she got her very own roll of paper towels in the bathroom, and her own fancy lavender hand sanitizer, so I am still totally legit. (and we might have had a small talk about karma. that's how I roll bitches!)

my dad is cool

my dad had surgery on his finger recently, (don't laugh, fingers are legitimate body parts too) up at OHSU, so he is staying with us for a week, until his post-op, while he recuperates. I tell you, it's not exactly like a weekend at the spa here, we are BUSY, and loud and rascally, I wasn't sure he would be able to handle it. He used to be pretty fun, but lately he has been kind of quiet and grumpy (lately=the last decade or so). Usually when my folks come, my dad is on good behavior for a few days, and then threatens to leave about every 3 minutes until their actual departure.
This time something is different, it may be the meds that they gave him for pain (possible), or that he is excited to spend some quality time with us (without my mom--likely). I have been trying to include him in everything we do, since a major reason of less than ideal behavior is usually due to boredom.
Today he loaded up with me to go pick up Layla from school, and waited patiently in the car while I went inside. When we got back on the road, I spied a blue Volkswagen beetle (circa late 60s) so I gave him a "slug" (duh). It just so happened that the light turned red and we ended up right next to the bug. Dad motions for the (rather young and lovely, not that I noticed) guy to roll down his window. Here we go. "Hey dude! your car just got me punched!" says Dad. Young and Lovely just laughs (silly old man), luckily now our light turns green, so I start to pull away. Dad is still yelling at this kid across 4 lanes of traffic, something about how his lights weren't even on. (DAD! do you even know the rules to slug bug? There is only 1, and it doesn't have anything to do with lights)
He then turns to me and demands french fries. I whip around and find a drive through. We pull up to the speaker box, he leans over me and says "WE WANT FIVE DOLLARS WORTH OF NOTHING BUT FRENCH FRIES!!" (I don't know if you remember this about Dad, but he thinks that the speaker is more like a tin can telephone and he has to somehow project his order loud enough for them to hear it through the wires)
The drive through guy repeats his order, (which I thoroughly enjoy, since of course they don't sell fries by the pound, and also since it is THE BEST order ever!) and tells us to pull forward. We get the fries and pull back out onto the road. AC/DC comes on, so I crank it up and we start howling to Back in Black and drumming on the dash. Random people on the sidewalk give us weird looks, and we just smile and wave.
I am having a great time until the song is over and Layla insists that I "change it back to Coffee House". Geez, back to real life.

you won't believe this,

but not only did we survive, I fell in love. Again.

with bright, vivid colors, free, public art, living tradition, and simplicity. With fresh, delicious food, not being in charge, beauty in the details, and things too good to be true. With the possibility of the future, and once again, like every morning for the last 15 years, the love of my life.

it is so ridiculously amazing here, I am almost jealous of MYSELF!!

I decided to try blogging a little about the trip while I am still here this time, for a better chance of the story ever being told.
Warning, you will most likely hate me after you read this, so proceed with caution, and you may want to pour yourself a drink. (I know I am!)
OH! It's happy hour, I will have to update you later!

SALUD!

I don't have even one free minute, but I wanted to tell you that I am leaving for Mexico in the morning. My in-laws have told us that we probably won't make it out alive, (they tell us this every time) but it happens to be a risk I am willing to take.
In final preparation for take off, I need to paint my toenails (this is always a last minute item, as you may recall), find and conquer the beard hair, shave both legs (past the knee), pack (including new bathing suit with WAAAAAY too much cleavage-thanks mom), and try to get a little sleep before our 4:30 am departure (from home).
Also, my birthday is coming up in 3 days, and I couldn't be more excited. I will enjoy a birthday brunch at Lindo Mar (my very favorite brunch EVER, expect pictures), a cooking class at one of PV's top restaurants, and apparently Alan and Robert are in cahoots on some birthday beach adventure that promises to be amazing. I asked for a piece of jewelery a day for my birthday present, so I am excited to get started on picking out my new treasures, and I am currently down 27 pounds, so I look pretty cute in my beach wear. All in all, not a bad birthday I say.
If we do happen to survive our trip and make it home, there will be stories told and pictures shared. Stay tuned!

adventures in kindergarten

yesterday I was helping out in Maggie's kindergarten class, and they were learning about the letter "P". Each child has a laminated alphabet book that they have been working in since the beginning of the year, and each day they add a new letter or two to the pages. The kids were adding Ps and Rs to the book, along with a picture for each. I was circulating with stickers to encourage their work, so I would stop at each child, check their letters, and ask about their drawings. There were pandas, pencils, parrots and puppies, very strong work. Finally I made my way back to my little sweetie, her Ps were top shelf, I couldn't help but feel a little proud. Then I wanted to compliment her picture but I couldn't quite tell what it was. Trying to be delicate and supportive I said "Mags, I LOVE your drawing, what is happening in it?" She looked up at me, smiled sweetly and said "it's me POOPING!" and started cracking up. "Um, I'm not quite sure that is appropriate hun, for your alphabet book, could you please draw another "P" thing so we can write it on the line under the picture?" Without missing a beat, she picked up her pencil and drew herself some "paper". Indeed.

cutie

this is a quicky. (some days call for those)
This morning the girls watched a movie called Ponyo. It is about a little girl that turns into a goldfish (or the other way around, can't quite remember). Anyway there is a song at the end and it goes "Ponyo, ponyo, ponyo, magic set's you free;
oh she's a little girl with a round tummy". Maggie was skipping around all morning singing it to herself. About the 47th time through she started giggling and said, "hey! she's just like me! I have a round tummy!" and she gave her cute belly a little rub.
Man, I love that girl, she gives me hope that I am doing something right.

It's me!

you might not recognise me though, since I have lost 21 pounds!! (don't worry, I won't steal your man...on purpose) I like to think it is because I have been so good at cutting back on portions, and making good food choices, and literally running and sweating my ass off in hot yoga, but maybe it's because I do not have a free moment in a day to just sit down. Either way, I'll take it for now, and later when I pass out from exhaustion, maybe work something else out. (if it ain't broke..)
I have also been completely dominating the field in homeschooling lately, and, um, I guess that's all.
I had an epiphany recently, life is like juggling. You can, at any one time, keep a couple, or maybe if you are really good, a few balls in the air. If you do nothing else, you can hone your skills and eventually people can throw extra balls at you, that you can manage with ease and make everyone wonder how you do it. I however, never even learned to juggle, so I am pretty much screwed. I am trying here, really I am, but my manual dexterity is questionable, and that, combined with my lack of grace, and my propensity for distraction, makes the whole thing kind of almost impossible. My balls (haha-balls!) are currently: 1) getting myself healthier and 2) home school. I am ROCKING these. I Guess I can juggle after all. (when there aren't actual balls involved, apparently I can figure it out.)(haha-balls) I can do these 2 things. Never mind that my house is a mess, my car is out of gas, and I can't remember what my husband looks like. (lucky for me, Alan has had decades of practice cleaning up after me-literally and figuratively) so he doesn't even notice a difference except that I have a few less chins now. And he likes it. Everybody's a winner.
In other news, I am going to Mexico for my birthday. We are leaving in a month, I think I will start packing. My mom is coming to stay with the girls, and will probably juggle my stuff, add 12 more things, and set them all on fire whilst riding a unicycle. Moms are magical, how do they do that? Shit! Am I supposed to do be able to pull that off some day?! I need a nap.