I did what?!

this morning there was a HUGE (ok, it was tiny to smallish but whatever, it was really black and had tons of legs and was skittery and offputting) spider on the wall in my bathroom. I grabbed a piece of t.p., and squished it quick, and tossed it in the toilet. We then left for the morning and all afternoon. (flash forward hours and hours until now)

I just had to pee. When I turned around to flush I had a mild coronary infarction when I noticed a spider all smashed on the toilet paper I had just used. WHAT THE?!?!? I totally just crapped a spider and didn't even know it (nevermind I only peed), probably this means I am dying! Oh wait, um, I think that may be the spider from the wall this morning. phew. Crisis averted. (well almost, I am still completely freaked out by the thought that I peed the scary, black, 100 legged spider-even though it didn't really happen, and am feeling a little skin crawly and jumpy.. I am going to try to work through this with some chocolate and probably later plenty of Blue Moon-TGIF!)

shake what your mama gave ya

My mom has a secret. I know what is is, and since I can't (ever, no matter what) keep a secret, I am now going to spill it to you: she acts all serious and strict and matter of fact, but she can be pretty fun. (shocked?!) I remember one of the very first times that I had this monumentous realization. I was 5 and we were coming out of the grocery store with a cart full of groceries. While walking toward the car, she jumped up on the cart and started kicking one foot and riding it like a scooter, effectively leaving me in the parking lot dust. At first I was a little taken aback, (who is this crazy woman?), then I was jealous, (I want to ride that scooter cart!) and then it finally dawned on me-hey! my mom is fun. (YAY!)
Fast forward a couple of decades to now. I get a call from Mom asking me if I want to go to a male review when I am in Klamath for a visit. (um, what?!) Mom giggles and says it is a fund raiser and Tracy is selling tickets. (sidebar-until recently I haven't been back to Klamath very much as an adult, and when I go, we usually just hang out in the woods foraging and whatnot. On one visit though, probably about 10 years ago, I met Tracy while peddling lip gloss. Tracy is about my very favorite person to ever come out of Klamath Falls, she is quick, funny and pretty much just basically kicks ass.) It was as if fate had some how intervened and taken the decision out of my hands; my mom was taking me to watch strippers.
As we drove to the show, I felt a little nervous. After asking more questions about the "review" I had learned that these gentlemen were all over the age of 40 and most had never danced anything other than a two-step in their lives. I was thinking presentation would be crucial, this could go either way, it could possibly be the very best thing I had ever witnessed, or you know, not.
The following story is true, to the best of my memory, and I will now try my best to describe for you the events, (in stunning detail) since your mom wasn't fun enough to take you.
We found a parking spot right in front of the Moose lodge and headed in for the show. A handsome (and fully dressed) man was sitting behind a small card table by the door collecting the cover charge ($5 each). Behind him there was a snack buffet consisting of brownies, a chocolate fountain, crusty bread, mixed cheese cubes and assorted crudites. (very posh. Klamath, it is possible that I have underestimated you, or maybe, just maybe, you have changed in the 15 or so odd years since I left running and never once looked back. It is also very possible that the Moose lodge is like the fanciest James Bond hideout in a 100 mile range and women have never before been allowed to enter it's hallowed doors)
A very handsome Willie Nelson was wandering around with a tray waiting to bring you anything you would like from the bar. (ok, sorry, I know this is a lot of in between talking, but seriously!?! These are polite, handsome, sober men, dressed up, with full heads of hair and all of their teeth-IN KLAMATH!! and they want to serve me. I am thinking I may need to reevaluate everything I know to be true. Please stand by while I try some deep breathing and attempt to get my thoughts aligned.)
We order drinks (mom sprite, me, lite beer for fortitude) and go in to find our seats. In the middle of the room, there is a stage and runway/catwalk made out of plywood, and there, right in the center, jutting out in all of it's hand made glory, is a galvanized stripper pole. A friend of Mom's has saved seats for us, and they are directly at the end of the catwalk, with a first class view of everything that will grace the stage for the next hour or so. I desperately suck on my lite beer hoping it will somehow give me a buzz if I drink it fast enough (it didn't). The lights dim. I am getting a little nervous, luckily Willie swings by and drops off another cold one just in time (I think I might be in love).
Now, I would like to mention that this is the first "review" I have ever been to-ever. I glance around the room and look at the other women (and a few men) that are there with me and am getting the feeling that this isn't their first rodeo. A nice lady gets up on stage and shows us (probably mostly just me) how to properly hold our money so we can stick it in the panties of the dancers. Again I glance around, and see that everyone but me (and Mom) already has their money like this. I am so out of my league.
Thankfully, the first dancer out is Tracy's husband. He was fun to watch and actually a pretty good dancer-I am starting to feel like I might actually survive this night after all. Ladies (and one old guy) are having a great time, money is flying everywhere, I am laughing. There is one lady in the front row scrambling after dropped dollars to "recycle" them. I notice a really old lady in a wheelchair with a afghan over her lap and can't help but laugh. Was Klamath this fun when I lived here?
Dancer after dancer shuffle out to shake their stuff, and we are entertained by a cop, a hula dancer, a leprechaun, a hippie, bad Santa, and on and on. These costumes are amazing, the attention to detail is hilarious, but my personal favorite was the layers of underwear. I don't know if it was pride or what (probably their wives made them, for the sake of everyone) but there was always at least 2 pairs of undies. Tighty whities seemed to be the under layer of choice, but one guy even wore cut off jeans under his fancy tuxedo thong panties. Over and over men came out in their underwear(s) with knee socks pulled all the way up and shiny church shoes on (or velcro orthopedics). I start to get a cramp.
At one point Mom had to sneak out to use the ladies room and when she came back there was a guy wearing camo with a stuffed python hanging out of his pants. When she realized what it was, she immediately covered her eyes and made an audible squeak (guess there are fun limits-ha!)
One fellow sat on my lap, one did his best sexy dance by trying to floss his ass (through countless layers of undies) with a sparkly winter scarf, one played bagpipes, Santa had candy canes.
It is obvious to me now that I am wasting my time. There is no way I can possibly convey the sheer amazingness of the evening to you. My only advice would be to try and catch a show if you ever get a chance, I hear they are already getting requests for future bookings....Elks lodge anyone? Even if you have to steal your baby's milk money and pay with quarters-GO!
I found out that the lady in the wheelchair was 99 years old, and getting to ogle Klamath's finest was her valentines day present. I am telling you the truth when I say I have never had as much fun in Klamath before. (well maybe one time, but I can't tell you that secret, since it's mine)

you do what you gotta do

Layla has had a loose tooth for a very long time. It is in the front(ish), on the top and has been sticking out straight as long as I can remember. I don't like it. At all. But for some reason lately it has been driving me mad. It's her face, her tooth, her problem biting hard stuff, why would I care? (great question. OCD? PMS? Who knows?)
Anyway, I have been "encouraging" her to yank it out lately since it is so loose. Today she decided it was time, and asked me to pull it out for her. Now I am not new, and have played this tooth pulling game before. She lets me grab it, I pull, and she freaks and yells and runs away. Not fun. I am not playing. "PLEEEEEEEEASE mama?!" "Nope, sorry, as much as I would like to see that sucker gone, I am not interested in participating. Your dad will be home soon."
Maggie is standing by, listening to the whole exchange, and pipes in, "I'll do it Layla!" (I laugh a little on the inside at this, since it is funny, and also since I think that there is NO way Layla will even consider this offer) I don't even know if Layla said yes, but since she didn't hear a "NO", Maggie gets a stool so she was level with Layla, and next thing I know has grabbed Layla by the face and is doing her best to yank that tooth out of her mouth!
She gave it a tug. Nothing. She gave it another, harder tug. She felt it move a little. After a few of these it starts bleeding. (I am sure now that this will be the end of it) Layla starts to squirm, so Maggie starts to talk her through it. "this tooth is ready Layla-Please BE STILL!" then "I almost had it that time, I'm sure!"
Layla is being a real champ about the whole thing and I am absolutely no help at all since I am just distracting them with my loud laughing and camera flash. (moms are so annoying sometimes!)
Maggie is really professional, and is keeping at it with determination. (I surely would have thrown in the towel by now, she obviously doesn't have the same fear of hurting Layla that I do) Layla starts to get more and more restless, so Maggie's distraction technique is getting more impressive. She is now helping Layla plan what she will do with the untold wealth she will surely be getting from the tooth fairy for this wonderful tooth. (Strong work by the way, I almost wanted her to pull some of mine, mama needs a vacation!)
Finally Layla has had enough. She yells at Maggie to "STOP!" Maggie giggles and opens her hand to reveal a tooth in her palm! Layla looked completely shocked, Maggie was so proud. It was a great show.
I wonder if tomorrow, after the tooth has been cashed, Maggie will ask for her cut?
Anyway, today, my stomach hurts from laughing, and my back hurts from life, but I will go to bed happy. These kids are a handful, but they are great, and they make me laugh-every-single-day. (also possibly Mags will be a dentist and pay for a real nice old folks home for me and Alan-you never know)

on her own

This morning when I woke up it was quiet. The girls are usually already awake and drawing or watching cartoons, so I poked my head out to check out what was going on.
Layla was sitting quietly on the couch reading a book silently to herself. She has never read on her own before, and getting her to practice reading is usually something I dread, as she fights me every step of the way. (needless to say, this was a big surprise!)
"Whatcha doing?" I asked her. "Reading my new books about horses and ponies" she tells me, and then proceeds to inform me that female foals are called fillies and male foals are called colts. "Very interesting," I tell her, "I am glad you like your new book."
I am feeling very puffy and proud about this moment, she is learning, and I am her teacher. Note to self, get more pony books.

I love love

Valentines day is my favorite holiday. Over the years I have met, and continue to meet, many naysayers, cynics, haters and grumps. The funny thing is, usually I might count myself one of their numbers, but not when it comes to Valentines day. I have become rather crusty and negative regarding most things, but for some reason, red foil heart shaped boxes, little cupids and roses make me melt every time. I don't even like cupid, OR roses, (never mind contrived holidays) so this is a strange phenomenon indeed. Over and over I find myself defending valentines day to people who don't understand my feelings for the special day, good people and happy couples included, this too is starting to make me wonder. Why does everyone else hate love day?
Alan says that my strong feelings about the day give him stress, since no mortal man could possibly live up to my expectations. He is wrong, and I will attempt to tell you why. Valentines day is about me. Not him, not cupid, not even chocolate or sex (although I wouldn't turn those down) I love love. I guess I love being loved would explain it better.
My grandpa was my very first valentine. He came over to my house, when I was just a little thing, and picked me up in his car. He had a card for me, just from him, and a tiny, red heart shaped, box of chocolates. We spent the day running errands together, nothing special, but it was then I realized that I was special. I had been singled out, out of everyone on the planet, to be my grandpa's special girl. I remember wondering if my grandma would be upset since he had picked me to be his valentine instead of her. Well, my Gram is amazing and she took it like a hero, and even served us lunch when we went back to their house. I don't remember many other details, just the tiny box of candy and the feeling that I had won a special prize to be chosen as someones valentine. Like I was special, and important and that I mattered.
Not all Valentines days have been extraordinary, but they don't need to be. Valentines day to me is a day that I use to reflect on how lucky I am to have had such a full and wonderful life, and to think back on all the ways I have been loved. The ways are many and varied, but just thinking of them makes my smile and fills my tank. I love you, most times, is more of an verb than a noun. People tell me all the time without saying anything.
The time you called me for no reason just to chat.
When I was stranded and you rescued me.
When you buy me something you hate just because you know I will love it.
When you tell me your secret.
The time you listened to me cry.
The time you watched the girls so I could spend some time with Alan.
When you go on a trip and bring me back a special gift (even though you are so popular and I know most people didn't get anything)
When you know what I need without me having to say a word.
When you smile at me.
The time you told me I looked beautiful, and I knew you were lying, but it felt so good to hear it anyway.
When you made me a special dinner because you know I eat differently than you.
When you told me a dirty joke to cheer me up.
When you make plans and follow through.
When you listen to my ridiculous ideas, and encourage me to follow them.
When you call me from a junk shop to tell me about the treasures.
When you pick dandelion bouquets for me by the fist full.
When you tell me the truth.
When you make time for me.
When you trust me.
When you listen.
When you go out in the cold so I don't have to.

When I haven't seen you for months or years (or ever), and we easily slip back into the comfortable place we were, just like we never left it in the first place.
The time you didn't get mad even though I deserved it.
When you get up every time in the middle of the night to do the sugar checks.
When you know I needed to buy that, so you didn't mention it.
Because you understand that when you love something, cost isn't a factor.
When you cheer me on.
When you let me sleep in every Sunday and bring me chocolate chip pancakes in bed, because you know that to me, that is the ultimate treat.
When I see beautiful things in nature.
When I feel the rain on my face.

So many things, wonderful things, amazing things, every day I am reminded somehow that I am loved. Tiny things, humongous things, beautiful and simple things. From everywhere.
Thank you, I love you too.
Happy Valentines day.

Vive Tuesday

we are girls here, and sometimes we like things just because they are pretty. Ok, let's be honest, it's more than sometimes, "because it's pretty" is the main reason we like anything. (followed closely by "because it's yummy or because it smells good")

I love parties and events and activities, and I especially love all the little details that go into them. Taking a shower with suds that smell like flowers, using the good conditioner, wearing cute earrings, sprinkles on the cake, the little things, fancy things, that make them special. A lot of days I forget that Tuesday is special. It is just Tuesday after all, but once in a while couldn't it use some sprinkles too?

Mondays are hard (absolutely NON sprinkle days here) but Tuesdays often get overlooked as well, and today it dawned on me that we may be passing up some definite fancy opportunity. You know like in the movies, the girl who is bookish and shy, wearing slumpy clothes and hanging out with her (drop dead gorgeous, way out of her league) best friend boy? Then in the end she puts her hair up, adds some mascara and lip gloss and she is now Julia Roberts? Of course they live happily ever after since she was so very beautiful on the outside now (don'tcha just love this one? you can be totally amazing, but they only like you unless you're pretty--OOPS-just read my first line again, guess we're all guilty, but hey, if she smelled like cake I would have liked her before she got popular) So today I decided that Tuesday needed a makeover, so we would enjoy hanging out with her a little more.

We decided on a tea party lunch and made cucumber sandwiches with the crust cut off and shaped into little triangles. (fancy). We had sliced rainbow oranges on the side. (beautiful). We drank lemonade out of fancy wine glasses (super fancy, Maggie asked repeatedly if it was ok that we were using the fancy cups since we are kids). We followed it all up with scoops of ice cream in little custard cups with sprinkles (of course). Voila, Tuesday is now beautiful and popular and we are in love. (now if we could somehow get her to stop hanging out so close to Monday, everything would be perfect!)

hurray for birthdays!

We just finished celebrating Layla's 7th birthday. I am exhausted! Most people have a birthday for a day or 2, or even a week, but we have birthday extravaganzas around here. It's my fault, completely, since I am a birthday princess, but I am good enough to let everyone enjoy the same level of celebrating, so I am kind and fair and just as a ruler. (and I expect a full month of celebrating my own birthday, which is coming up quickly, in case you need to start getting ready for it)
The festivities actually started about a day before her birthday, Maggie and I took roses and cupcakes and Tinkerbell napkins to her art class, so she could experience the whole class birthday love thing (plus then I seriously look like about the coolest mama ever-right?) On her actual birthday we decided to take the day off from school (duh-it was a birthday!) and made special fancy African pastries for breakfast (we are learning about Africa, and got the recipe from a friend who is currently living there). We then got all glammed up and went outside, on this rare dry day in January, for a photo shoot. It went very well, 7 year olds LOVE to ham it up for the camera. (4 and a half year olds really enjoy trying to sabotage the entire effort) Next on the list was lunch out with Daddy and then off to see the latest chipmunk movie. (got great reviews from both girls, who think the squeaky singing of the animated rodents is hilarious!) As soon as the movie was over, we rushed home to tidy up a bit and pick up Alan, then we headed over to Sushi Tsunami for her birthday dinner. Some really good friends were able to meet us and we had a great time, the birthday girl was very pleased. Layla had chosen a 7 layer pound cake and dark chocolate torte from a fancy local bakery for her birthday cake, and we all enjoyed it very much. (second time we sang happy birthday, just incase you are keeping track)
The next day was Friday and Alan brought Layla's BFF Caity home with him from work to stay the weekend. We had a great dinner of pizza and lemonade and craft time. (I am getting tired-thankfully, no singing today)
Saturday started early. 3 girls is a lot of girls. The morning started with some kind of argument, someones feelings being hurt, (can't remember details) and lots of whining and loud talking and high pitch sounds of all sorts, being thrown around by all. It is then that I had my best idea ever. (later proven to not be my best idea ever, but at the time, I was proud and clever) We would go to Chuck E Cheese, where a kid can be a kid, and run around and yell and all that great stuff without making me upset. (right-this is a great idea!) We get to Chuck's place around 11:15 or so, and amazingly, I was not the only adult to have had this thought today. There were about 3000 (give or take) assorted strangers there, ALL running around and yelling and jumping and whatnot. (at this point I start to rethink my brilliant idea) They give us a romantic table for 2 and we settle in and the girls take off. We leave about an hour and a half later so we can go home and eat left over pizza (oh how I love irony) and rest briefly before the birthday party starts. (that's right, now we have a birthday party)
For the birthday event we went to a pottery studio so the kids could paint tiles. It went really well, everyone was pleased, the tiles turned out great (I think, I still have to pick them up) and with happy faces (after treating both diabetics for low blood sugars) we headed next door to an ice cream shop so the guests could enjoy our special birthday "build your own ice cream sundae bar"!! It was really amazing. The ice cream is hand made with all natural goodness and local products when ever it is an option. (can't wait to go back here) The kids got to choose a flavor of ice cream out of about a dozen flavors and then they brought out about a dozen topping options and squirt bottles of chocolate sauce and whipped cream. We were having a double party with our friend Stella, so the birthday girls got a candle in their scoop while we (once again) sang happy birthday. It was so exciting to see all the toppings, and open presents, and get the birthday song AGAIN, that Layla wasn't paying very much attention to things, she was just so absorbed in the festivities. This is when the candle caught her hair on fire. true story. Luckily it was just a little piece, and the flame went out and it just fizzled and singed a bit. She finger combed the burnt bits out, we laughed, and then enjoyed ice cream.
We came home and the girls sang karaoke all night. We took Caity to her Grandma the next afternoon (after more karaoke), and then ended the day with a trip to OMSI and a noodle dinner. I love birthdays-they are about my favorite thing, but the freaking birthday song can kiss my grits. I am not a singer (without any booze in me) and the dang song is so distracting Layla almost lost her hairdo this time.
My birthday is March first but I think I am planning a celebration mid February-that should give me just about enough time to get back into birthday mode. (no singing required)