ain't love grand

Two weeks ago I celebrated 14 years of marital bliss with a boy that came to my 15th birthday. Alan says he knew I was "the one" when he first laid eyes on me. I think he made that up because he knows girls like romantic stuff like love at first sight. (although to his credit, I was a super cute 14 year old, for the record). I say that I knew he was "the one" after we had been married about 7 years. These things take time.
Alan has always been smart, logical, level headed, stable and even. I have always been sassy, silly, naughty, crazy and inappropriate. Over the years some things have changed; the way we look, what we eat, having a bunch of kids, level of debt (you know...everything) but the above character traits have stayed pretty much the same after all of this time. We were basically opposites when we met, and now after living over half of my life with him, I choose to call it "complementary". (It sounds more positive I think).
Sometimes when he does things the absolute wrong opposite way than I would have done them, I sit there, confused, and try to figure out why anyone would do such a thing. A perfect example is making the bed. Every night he strips all of the blankets off until just the bottom fitted sheet is left, and pulls up each layer nice and tight until it is just so. Then the pillow are arranged and he can get in. When I am feeling up to the challenge, I hurry to brush my teeth first and jump into bed so I can yank the covers up all wonky (how I like them), and when he tries to strip the bed down, a tug of war ensues. (With me ALWAYS victorious (thank you very much), after living with me for so long, Alan has learned that you just can't fight with crazy. I told you he was smart.)
It would almost seem to an outsider that I do these things just to be contrary, but honestly, it is just my way, I don't try to label it. I think when we were newlyweds we had to work so hard at being married, that we were a little distracted and overwhelmed, and now that is just the way we are.
We have changed each other a little bit though, over the years. Alan isn't quite as serious as he used to be, and I try to be less insane. (I said try) We don't question each other as much as we used to, we trust more, and share responsibility. Alan tries his best to understand me, and is very kind and tolerant of me and my ways, and tries to support me whenever he can, even when it puts him outside of his normal comfort zone.
He smiles and sighs when I invite strangers over for parties (internet friends are barely strangers), he rolls his eyes when I get 14 boxes of fiber cereal because it is a good price, and he barely even breaks stride when I say things like "I bought a red robot vacuum today." (even though he has never heard of a robot vacuum and they sound really expensive)
When we were out for our anniversary, I realized just how much he has changed over the years. He had taken me to Lush (my very favorite store for smelly stuff) to get some deodorant, a shampoo bar and some dusting powder, and was patiently standing by whilst I made best friends with the cutie with the facial piercings behind the counter. I told Cutie that I was there for my powder and he mentioned that it was now discontinued and what was on the shelf was all there would ever be. EVER. (whoa, I almost cried-seriously) Now I am not a big fan of beauty supplies, or even a high maintenance girl in general, but I like what I like. With out a word, Alan walked over to the shelf and proceeded to load ALL of the remaining powders into the basket. There were 9 little cans.
Does he think I am ridiculous? Absolutely. Did he think I would have left without all of the powders? Probably not. Did he make me super happy and remind my why I love him? Indeed. I skipped out of the store. On the way back to the car, we also snuck into an emergency room to use the bathroom....It was almost too much for me to process in one day. Good thing the next day he was back to his sensible self. I don't even think I will mess with the covers this week. (too much)

I love Alan

tradition

Tonight I am blazing a trail into unknown territory. There is a little project I have been wanting to do for a long time, and tonight I got out 3 pairs of scissors and I started it.
When I was little, I had a very special, very favorite blanket, named Wooby. My great grandma Maggie made it for me when I was tiny,and it was perfect. On one side there was pastel wild flowers (my VERY favorite thing!!) and the other side had an amazing technicolor 70s print complete with yellow lions, pink puppies, and Raggedy Anns. It had a silky binding that I would rub on my cheeks when I needed to feel it. (you know, therapeutically). My mom was continuously mending it and fixing the binding, (real love is tough on things!) After many years of good, solid, hard use, I lovingly wrapped it in tissue and put it away in a box in the garage. I was leaving for college.
A few days later I married Alan and adopted his childhood blanket-cowboy blanket. Alan's blanket was not as good, but I was IN LOVE with this boy, and it smelled like him, and I thought it was cool that it had been his for such a long time. (Honestly, it was made of the same type of fabric as my Wooby, and that is why I really loved it.)
A few years back, my mom brought Wooby to my house, and we washed it up, and Maggie snagged it for her own at first sight. I was a little, um, hesitant, but how could I say no? It was obvious that she felt a similar kinship to Wooby that I had felt as a little girl. (and let's be honest, for therapy now, I need a little more than a silky rub on the cheek) I let her put it on her bed. Every thing was fine until one night she yelled from her room that she was "ALL TANGLED UP IN THE BLANKETS!!" I went in to rescue her, only to find that there was a gigantic hole through one side of Wooby. I untangled her, gently gathered up my blanket and retired it once again.
Alan's cowboy blanket is falling apart at the seams, and the nasty 1975 polyfill batting keeps trying to touch my face when I am sleeping. Against Alan's wishes, I still have it on our bed (well just on my side-he hates it and thinks I am nuts. I am.)
Anyway, in my mind (where I am 120 pounds and a superior crafter) I have done this amazing project where I salvage my favorite fabric of all time (it's a loose weave cotton, and feels soooo soft, there is nothing like it available now)from both of these blankets, and piece them together into one amazing super Wooby, to snuggle with to the end of my days. So tonight I cut them all apart from their battings and bindings, and cut through all of the 1970s yarn ties and started cutting them into 6" squares to build my very first quilting project. Please don't be confused here-I have NO IDEA what I am doing. I don't even have a book.
The blankets were both in a horrible state of disrepair, and honestly couldn't have been in much worse shape, so I don't feel too nervous. My Wooby had patches and mismatched binding (some yellow, some blue, some thick, thin, silky, cotton) it was almost a quilt already. Cowboy blanket was literally falling apart. I feel like since I am doing this project for myself, it can't really go wrong.
With a heavy heart I disassembled them. Maggie was there and got really upset. "Mama! Why did you cut up that blanket?!? I LOOOOOVE that blanket!!!" I told her I was going to try to fix it. She believed me until she saw me cut it up into little pieces. I hope she likes the final product, I will probably have to share.
I really like the idea of a project so long in the making. I think of Alan's mom making cowboy blanket for him when he was just a little thing. And I think of my grandma Maggie sewing together all of the colorful fabrics that she had picked out just for me, when I was so small. I think of the hot California nights when I had to go to bed when it was still light out, so I hid my face under the blanket and felt the cool cotton on my cheeks. All of the tears that my blanket dried when things went wrong, and all of the mud puddles that it got dragged through just because. It was a fort, it was a cape, it was stuffed under my shirt to be a pregnant belly. It was a friend.
Now I am using my hands to give it a new life as one of the coolest things ever. A blanket. No matter what, it will be perfect. (I am leaning towards a silky binding.)

cookie monster

So it is a week into my current diet and I am feeling great! I have been on countless diets before and some have worked, some haven't. Never the fault of the diet, always the fault of the dieter. If you stick with a program, it will work, the trick is keeping up the hard work until the weight comes off. Believe me, I know, it is hard work. Always before I have decided that I didn't like the way I look (usually after seeing myself and all of my chins in random pictures that friends took, in awkward poses, usually 2.5 sheets to the wind-not pretty under any circumstance-but I digress...) this time, my motivation is different.
I used to work with a girl, she was average. Her hair was normal, her face was pretty, her belly was jiggly-you know, my kind of girl. Just like me in fact. She just posted some pictures of herself on facebook (or the downfall of civilization, as Alan calls it) the other day, and she is a knock out! Seriously, it's ridiculous. I looked at her, and then I looked again.
Here was a normal girl, that I knew, that had lost 65 pounds by just getting it done. (sounds easy right? HA!) Well, feeling my pants get tighter and tighter wasn't a strong enough motivator (plus I totally ROCK yoga pants, so why bother with jeans anyway-right?) but besting this girl was. Leave it to me to find a bitchy way to find my muse. (it's a gift) I decided right then that if she could do it, then you bet your sweet ass that I could do it too. It was ON!
So here I am, a week in and doing fine. Better than ever before on a diet even. Any time I need to remember what my goal is, I can peek at her gorgeous skinny pictures and remember right away. She is now a super model and I am rolling around in stretchy pants. (please note that later when I fall off of the wagon, I will need support and lots of cookies. Also note, PMS is rapidly approaching..that of course needs no further explanation)
I have been spending all kinds of time swapping recipe ingredients to make yummy things that I can eat and still feel full and have the foods I want. (and need, let's just be honest here for a minute-why do you think I am in this position in the first place? cookies=need)
Without further ado, I give you

diet friendly kick ass almost peanut butter chocolate chip cookies (WHUT?!-OH YEAH!)

1/2 C sugar free maple syrup
1/2 C Better n' Peanut Butter (fake peanut butter, find it at Trader Joes)
1 tsp vanilla extract (I used almond, I'm a freak like that)
1 C whole wheat flour
2 Tbsp mini chocolate chips

preheat oven to 350*. Put parchment on your big cookie sheet. In a large mixing bowl whooge together syrup, nut butter, and vanilla. When it's nice and smooth, stir in flour. When it's a nice stiff dough, add chippies. Use your cookie scoop to plop it all onto the parchment (I got 21 this time, they don't grow much so you can crowd them) and stick it in the oven for 10 minutes. They will slip right off the parchment no problem, so you can eat them right away. (I know this is important!)

these little babies will knock your socks off and they are only 40 calories each! even less if you leave out the chips-but why would you EVER do that? These whip up in minutes-please learn from my mistake and make them when no one is looking, or you will have to share. (which really isn't fair at all)

that's all-j out

back to school

every year (for the last 3 so far anyway) the back to school season makes me think of the bad Adam Sandler movie "Billy Madison," and more specifically this scene.
I can't start getting school ready without this silly song getting stuck in my head. (and feeling an almost desparate craving for snack packs) The worst part is, I don't know any of the other words of the song after "Back to school," and it must be sung the same goofy way as Adam does it. The result is me walking around sounding like an idiot singing the same 3 words over and over again. I have actually made up quite a few of my own verses just to break up the monotony. (and they are pretty good too, if I do say so myself, clever words rhyming with school are kind of tricky to come up with)
Anyway, it is back to school time for us, or rather, back in school, since we don't really go anywhere for a while. We are taking lots of creative classes this year (read as: classes I don't have to teach, where the girls get to learn things I don't know, and we get to be away from each other for an hour at a time-YIPPEE!) We are all really looking forward to classes starting, but are finding ways of keeping busy and schoolish until we get to move on to more exciting things.
Layla will be starting second grade this year and my baby will be in kindergarten. Somehow this seems kind of like a big deal to me. I feel torn between relief that they are finally growing up and, um, nope, that's it I guess. I thought for a minute it would be a little sad, having my baby officially a grade schooler, but I am doing ok for now. (let me remind you that school hasn't technically started for us yet-tomorrow is our first day, so I reserve the right to change my mind and get all freaky and hormonal over it in the next few weeks, or year, or you know, ever.)
We have had a fantastic fun filled summer, and besides my tomato bushes being loaded with giant green tomatoes, and the onset of fall without a single one making it to ripeness (pause for breath-phew!) I am ready for fall to make it's appearance.
We have made lots of jam with fruit we picked (and local honey-mmm) and are planning to make some applesauce soon, our new classes are very exciting, and it is always fun to meet new friends and learn new things. I am ready to get back to our days having some kind of schedule and consistency, I am NOT looking forward to the early mornings, but have some fun and yummy breakfast and snack ideas. (leave it to me to use food as my motivator)
Speaking of that, I thought I would follow up the "IlovemyselfIamadandelion" post with a bout of I hate being jiggly self loathing, (oops) so today is the start of a new diet. Let's not call it that though if you please. I would much prefer, "days of delicious breakfast shakes (and another for lunch, and a sensible dinner)" instead, because somehow, that sounds less daunting and more manageable. Actually, instead of sensible dinner, let's say mouthwatering, wonderful dinner, just a bit less than I want to have because I am watching portion sizes, or something like that. You know, to keep morale high. I am carefully choosing some motivational items (read as: amazing things I want to buy on the internet but don't have a good reason to justify the purchase) to reward myself when I reach goals. (goal today, do NOT eat my weight in chocolate, or chips...let's start small, so we don't get set up for immediate failure) It is currently almost 3 o'clock and I still get 2 more shakes and a yummy dinner. I am feeling pretty good! I see new earrings in my near future!

ps-I will take some first of school pictures and share them soon, maybe this weekend when we go to the Rogue Valley. It is currently raining here, so we are stuck inside and look a little crazed (I think the cabin fever is sinking in-NOT good since it is just the beginning of the dark seasons!) not a good look for pictures (although, probably more realistic-ha!)

apples and oranges

this is the back seat conversation that took place today. I had told the girls that they needed to be quiet and on good behaviour since we were in stop and go, Friday traffic and I was feeling kind of stressed out.
Mags: random loud chattering
Layla "Maggie! you need to be more quiet, that yelling is very dangerous!"
Maggie "Listen here, I'll tell you what's dangerous, a pet bear, now that would be dangerous!!"

Well, you can't really argue with that now can you?
Have I told you lately that I love these girls?

aha!

I was just in the shower, soaping up all of my glaringly white, jiggly bits, and thought, "now that is a great body." True story. I will let you know, that in my life until this moment, I have had this thought less than a handful of times. As you know, I am not a super model, (or even a hand model for that matter), and as most women do, judge myself rather harshly. Sure, I don't like wearing a bathing suit, and tight pants make my tummy squish out at the top (not attractive, just believe me on this), but there are things that I do like, and I forget to focus on those things. I have great ankles. My elbows are also very nice.
I have heard it said many times that you can't change someone. I believed it too, people are who they are. With my new found self appreciation though, I would like to tell you that that statement is indeed wrong. People are constantly changing, and if you are a major influence in their life, you will inevitably change them.
I used to be a girl (and now a woman) who had a decent amount of self respect and self esteem, but always in the back of my mind, a little itchy spot of self loathing, that would ooze out and infect my brain sometimes with negativity and self doubt. I believe this is normal, to a point. (I am still working on my *phd, so it's hard to say if I am actually right, or just agree with myself)
I sometimes wonder, if I am a happy girl, with a good life, why do I think I need to look differently to be truly happy? Alan tells me that he loves me exactly like I am. (he says this often, apparently I need convincing) Is it possible for him to really love me even though I don't look like societies ideal of the perfect woman? Could it be that maybe his idea of the perfect woman is me? With my freckles poking out, and my hair frizzing up, an entire wardrobe of clothes that have elastic waists instead of zippers and buttons? The answer is no. (or so I had convinced myself) But then I stepped back. Who am I to say what is beautiful?
Dandelions are my favorite flower. In high school I loved orchids, they were tropical and rare. When I was a young adult, I loved hydrangeas, they grew in the yard of my first house. Now that I have beautiful girls who pick me dandelion bouquets by the handful, they are my very favorite flower, hands down. I can't see a dandelion without smiling, they make my heart happy. Their bright vibrant color, the amazing way that they change from a tiny green bud, to a fuzzy yellow flower, to a white feathery seed puff, to me, are a perfect example of beauty. I would take a fistful of dandelions any day over an expensive bouquet of anything.
Then I got it. I am a dandelion! I am Alan's dandelion. Some people see weeds and break out the round-up, (Alan used to), but now we pick them, and blow the puffs all over the yard, and make wishes like crazy. And smile. Maybe my job isn't to the be prettiest, or the skinniest, or the best. Maybe my job is to help people smile. It is a very respectable job I think.
One thing I really enjoy about getting older is that somehow things seem to sort themselves out. Life gets a certain clarity all on it's own. You are certain what is important and what isn't. There isn't room for fronting or drama, there is only room for things that truly matter. It is such a relief to live each day for what it is, nothing more, just to enjoy the experience of it.
I realise that my body has literally supported me every single day that I have been alive. One of the reasons my belly pokes out is that I have made a family (ahem, and appreciate beer). I have earned these little body modifications through hard work, and also all of the amazing experiences that I have been through.
Today, I noticed that I have a smokin' set of ankles, and then I got dressed (in tie top pants) and joined some good friends for 7 layer chocolate birthday cake. I smiled the entire time.



*imaginary

hey stranger

Good news-I'm feeling much better. Woohoo! I was just about convinced that I would never recover, but today the sun is out, I can breathe and taste, and the pressure in my head is gone, I am feeling great.
Tomorrow we are planning to get my garden in (finally, over a month later than usual) and then we have to pack because the girls and I are headed down to Sactown for a couple of weeks of sunshine and swimming pools and family goodness.(NANA & AUNTIES!) We are planning to come home somewhere around the end of the month, we'll see if any sweet negotiating happens and where we end up, summer is fun!
The schedule is already filling up, so far we are looking at swimming lessons, diabetes camp, a garage sale, the 10th annual Blochtoberfest (FestX), visiting guests from out of town, and we just booked another "crazy mama" trip to a hostel on an island outside of Seattle where we will stay in teepees. No moss growing under this rock I tell you!
I should have some down time early this week while chilling on the banks of the Rogue River, so I will try to finish the Mexico report then, otherwise, the statute of limitations will go into affect and you will never know what happened. (well, let's just be honest here, you will never really know what happened, and for that matter, a couple of those nights, I'm not so sure myself)
until then my friend, take care..