The Santa Way

In early October, Francesca and Cecilia bought post cards from the Slice O'Life Bakery and mailed them into the "Win Thomas Action Canyon," game from our Thomas the Train magazine.  Since then, when we go to the post office everyday, Francesca always says, "OH!  I can see if I won my Thomas Action Canyon!"  And not wanting to dash her adorable hopes, I always just said, "Okay, let's see if we're the big winners."  I occasionally explained that there were probably hundreds of other children in the contest and only 10 winners, but of course, I doubt that she heard that.  So this week, we received the Thomas the Train magazine with the winners listed in the back of the magazine, and it did not say, "Francesca D., Palisade, Colorado," and oh man, talk about the saddest thing to see.  Francesca cried and cried and wept and said, "I wanted to be the big winner!  I wanted to win the Thomas Action Canyon!"  And I explained that there were actually thousands (35,000) other contestants and that sometimes you win and sometimes you don't.  I told her the story about when Auntie Desi won a Diamond Back bike from Wendy's and reiterated the fact that I didn't win.  Anyway - I did what any parent would do in a time of pressure and tears, I brought up Santa.

"Maybe Santa will bring you a Thomas Action Canyon," I said.

"Santa can't make a Thomas Action Canyon," she replied.

"Oh, yes he can . . . Santa's elves can make anything.  One year, I wanted a special doll that every child wanted and I didn't think that I would get the doll (a Cabbage Patch Doll) but man was I surprised on Christmas morning when I woke up and there was a doll for me and my sister.  Santa can work magic.  He can make anything."  Can you believe I did that?  The lies flowed from me like water.  And do you think that would work?  Of course not.  

"But I wanted to WIN the Thomas Action Canyon, not get it from Santa!  WAAAAAAA!  Boooooohooohooohoooo!"  She actually says that when crying.  It really is so sad, even though I know she's being dramatic.  The crying fit was quelled by just sitting and reading the Thomas the Train magazine stories and she also made me read the list of winners.  We declared that it wasn't very fair that there is only one girl winner and nine boys.  "There should be nine boy winners and nine girl winners!" Francesca reasoned.  I told her she was absolutely right.

So now, Francesca wants Santa to bring her, "A rocket ship, Thomas Action Canyon, and one of those dolls like the one he brought you and Auntie Desi."  She got the rocket ship from Zenon because that's what he's asking for.  I told her she could only ask for one thing.  

"What about all the children that don't have toys or clothes or food?" I asked today.

"They can get some toys from the Migrant Center, in boxes, but not wrapped."  Oh gad.  Where does she get this stuff?

Cecilia is asking Santa for ice cream.  Andrew said, "Great!  That's cheap."  I love that she's asking for ice cream.  That is so awesome.  That is so Cecilia.  She just came up with that herself tonight.  She got all excited when she thought of it . . . "I KNOW!  I-CEEM!"

Francesca and I finally built a snowman today!  We built three of them, actually.  It started snowing this morning again, big fluffy flakes and Francesca noted that it was snowman snow and she was right.  Up until now, all the snow has been dry and powdery, so dry that we couldn't even make a snowball.  She was really cute, rolling the balls around until they were big.  Cecilia was tired, so she watched from inside, until I looked up and saw that she was yelling, "Me poop!  Me poop!"  She doesn't like to be in a dirty diaper for a minute.  

We rolled snowwomen today at my friend Heather's house, too and when the ball got really big, the girls did teamwork and rolled it around some more.  I am so psyched to have my Palisade friends!  It is so magical - months ago, I was moaning and complaining that I didn't have the community I wanted to my cousin Liv and she e-mailed me and said, "Just put the intention there for what you want."  And I was like - she's right!  I haven't even put what I want out there and I'm complaining that I don't have it.  So no sooner than I decided that I am NOT moving, I'm going to just build what I want right here, VWALLA!  Heather appeared and Teresa appeared, Cayenna, Janessa, Paola, etc.  We started the Palisade Parenting Book club and Thursday playgroup and TADA, we have an awesome little community!  Ah, the power of putting it forth.  On that same note, my girlfriend Heather started reading "Beyond the Rainbow Bridge," and put it out there to her husband that they get rid of their Wii and TV and at first he was like, "Ah, I'll think about it."  I went over to their house today, and they just sold their Wii and gave the TV to Grandma!  Another testament to just putting things out there.  

I need to remember that more often, when I start trying to force things.  Just be patient, grasshoppa and the way will open up for you!  But now I must go to e-bay to open up the way for a Thomas Action Canyon to appear in my living room on Christmas morning.  

Christmas Magic

If I get it in gear to have an early dinnertime with the girls, while Andrew is still at work, we go for a nighttime walk to look at Christmas lights.  It is a total blast.  I give both girls flashlights and they run down the sidewalk from one house to the next yelling, "Christmas Magic!!"  Then, when they arrive at a house with life-like creatures such as lighted penguins, polar bears, reindeer or snowmen, they give each one a kiss on the nose and then say goodbye to each one before running on to the next house.  A couple times, its gotten a little out of hand and we've ended up going six blocks or so, round trip, which is too far at 5:30/6:00 at night.

Today was Palisade's Olde Fashioned Christmas.  We went downtown at 11:00 and the girls went on a camel ride.  I thought I was getting on with them, but the lady closed the rope, so I figured that if she thought they were okay, they were probably okay and they were.  Cecilia was pretty excited about it after she got off but Francesca didn't seem too impressed.  She said she didn't touch its fur because it looked dirty.  I must say that I would have to agree with her.  That Loma camel didn't look too well cared for . . . its knees were caked with doo doo and so were other parts of it.  You'd think they would've spiffed it up a bit for the big day, but maybe camel grooming isn't like horse grooming.  I don't know.  It wasn't smelly or anything, it just had crunchy doo-doo knees, etc.

After the camel ride, we headed to the Slice O' Life Bakery for a little slice o' life.  Yummy goodness.  There was a guy playing the 12-string guitar and he sang some Christmas songs and Cat Stephens' "Moonshadow."  Francesca was enraptured.  He said "Moonshadow" is his grandkids' favorite - how sweet!  I need to keep practicing the guitar.  Its hard to do with the girls around because they get so excited and they can't keep their hands off of it.  Plus, I suck, so that makes it hard, too.  And it kills my wrists and fingers, but I shall press on.  

We headed to Clark's horse drawn carriage rides and they were just standing around waiting for us.  So, first we rode the white mules around town.  The tack on the horses is beautiful, all black leather and silver buckles and bells.  When we returned, there was room on the giant black draft horse carriage that Mr. Clark was driving so we went for another ride.  I wish I could describe to you how beautiful and enormous these horses are, they are amazing.  Check out the picture of the size comparison on wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Draft_horse We rode all the way from 3rd & Kluge to 4th & Main, down to G Road (8th) and all the way to the Palisade National Bank on Elberta and back again.  It was probably a good 20 minute ride.  It was awesome.  I wish cars had never been invented and we could all just get around by horse or bicycle.  That would be so rad.  Everyone would just be so much more relaxed.  Maybe there could be trains, too.  But that's it.  No cars.  Aaah - life would be beautiful.  Cecilia almost fell asleep on the draft horse ride, so I took her home for a nap while Granny, Grandpa, Andrew and Francesca explored the happs.

It just was a good feeling day.  I love that Francesca came up with the saying, "Christmas Magic," because that 's just how it felt.  Magical.  After both girls took 2-hour naps, my coolio friend Sarah S. came over with her 'Shrader boys,' Luke, Henry and Oliver and her friend Katherine.  The kids got wild and ate a few bites of chili and then we were off to the race two blocks to the Palisade Parade of Lights.  It was magical and the kids loved it, especially all the candy.  Suckers, candy canes, chocolates, you name it.  I think Andrew has been in with Francesca for over an hour, trying to get her to fall asleep.  Cecilia was in the same boat, but I tricked her by saying, "Wait!  Listen!  I think I can her the moon rising!  Listen!  Listen!" and pretty soon she was sawing logs like an angel.  Parental trickery is so awesome, when it works out.  Anyway, Cecilia was really excited about the fire trucks.  When the 1st cop car went by, she said, "Look!  Fire Truck!"  then when the real fire truck came by, she said, "Look!  Big One Firetruck!"  She is a riot.  They both are, but I love the self-discovery at age two.  I guess self-discovery is beautiful at any age, I just love getting to watch it.

Anyway - thanks to Palisade for being so sweet.  Thanks to the 'rents for discovering such a lovely place for us to live and raise our children.  And thanks to my lovely friends for being so love-ly.  We had a magical day.

     

The Internets

Now the pressure is on, because my friend Sharon's husband Fran commented that they read my blog and I just loooove those two people.  Sharon and Fran are the coolest, zeniest peeps around, (alas they aren't around these parts anymore.)  Sharon and Fran - I wish you guys had a blog, because I'd love to better keep up with you.  Or better yet, I could just call you and stay in touch the old fashioned way . . . or maybe blogs/e-mails are the new old fashioned way because they're like snail mail.  If anyone does, let me know.  I read my friend Sarah's blog all the time.  Its really fun to peek in on my friend's lives. 

I did find Sharon on Facebook, purely by accident, and I'm not really quite sure what I was looking at . . . her "wall" or something.  I was trying to view Sarah J.'s Facebook, when suddenly, I was caught in a web of forms and permissions and what knots.  Facebook is completely confusing to me.  I don't get it.  I guess its instant messaging, only not instant?  Or maybe it is instant?  A multi-faceted blog?  Or a more private blog?  I don't know.  It frightened and confused me, and I left the computer cross-eyed from sitting in front of it too long.  It asked me for permission to access my e-mail account so that it could send an invitation to be friends to all my friends and I declined and then tried to get out of there.  Those e-mails that say, "Sew And Sew Wants to be your friend!" and I'm like - uhhh - aren't we already friends?  Right?   

I did see some funny stuff, though.  Like, on Olivia's page it says:  Dog spelled backwards is God, which I guess sums up her feelings about her dogs.  So I guess I learned that she's a crazy dog lady now.  Not unlike my mom's neighbor Maria, who is a crazy horse lady.  She said she's letting her mini-horses come in the house for her Christmas party, "Why can't I?  Its my house!" she said.  We were crazy dog people, growing up.  At one point we had five dogs.  Two American Eskimos, one Rottweiler, a Black Lab and a chow/pit bull mutt.  Two of the three dogs were my aunt and uncle's dogs, who eventually moved to Florida where my aunt and uncle live.  But man - for awhile, we were totally the crazy dog people in the neighborhood.  Unbeknownst to us, the dogs were real hell raisers.  When the rottweiler accidentally drown in the canal, every neighbor within three miles came by to express their happiness and tell some rowdy story of what Bouncer had done to them, their pet or their property.  I suppose that we never knew about it when she was alive because nobody could get near our house to tell us about it?  Who knew.  

We're now well on our way to becoming crazy cat people.  And our cat is pregnant again, which isn't my fault, exactly.  The wind blew our not completely shut door open and she got out for a few hours while we were at the park one day.  Having a litter of kittens isn't so bad.  Its a fun experience for the girls and there's always someone that needs a pet, right?  Right people!  I had a dream last night that she had 4 kittens, which is twice as many as last time, but not so many that we can't give them away.  They'll make great pets because they've been completely manhandled by Francesca and Cecilia from birth.  There's my cat advertisement.    

So, anyway, on Facebook, I found this group titled, "Crocs - I Don't Care How Comfortable They Are, You Look Like a Dumbass."  This is hilarious because, being nearly 35, I'm thinking that I'm past the age of uncomfortable shoes, so Crocs are totally right up my alley.  I wore some uncomfortable red stiletto boots the other night when Andrew and I walked four blocks round-trip to Inari's and I hadn't gone 1/4 block when I was complaining about walking, because my feet already hurt.  I'm having a bit of a hard time with letting go of all my uncomfortable shoes, because I keep thinking about a collage that hangs at this boutique in Boulder, where my friend Amy works.  Its an ad from a magazine, with a picture of a pair of decidedly comfortable shoes.  The ad says, "Comfort is . . . " and there is the shoes - then someone pasted "UGLY!" at the end of the sentence.  I was all ready to buy a pair of those cute furry boot Crocs, until I saw the "Crocs - I don't care how comfortable they are, you look like a dumb*ss," group.  But you know what?  The beauty of being not in my 20's anymore is that I TOTALLY would rather be a comfortable, ugly dumb*ss than have hurty feet.  Come to think of it, my feet are hurty right now from wearing Uggs, which are warm/comfortable, stylish, but have ZERO arch support.  Time for some new ugly shoes to complete my dumb*ss wardrobe!  

I am completing a serious purging of the closet right now, because I moved my clothes from a huge walk-in closet into a tiny closet and my wardrobe has some pretty ridiculous items.  Such as about 50 bikinis.  Who needs that many bikinis?  I don't really feel appropriate in a bikini anymore unless I'm at a lake or somewhere remote and dirty.  But when and where am I planning to wear all those 80's thrift store prom dresses?  Walking to the post office in Palisade?  Or that backless, black and white v-neck bell-bottom jump suit.  25 purses?  I kept some for the girls to play with but the rest must go.  I keep trying to get the 13 year old next door to come and look at my give away box before I take it to the Migrant Center, but she doesn't seem interested.  She's more of a t-shirt and jeans kind of girl.  It just seems like someone out there will love my clothes like I did.  Maybe I'll go through it again and wrap up items for Christmas presents.  That would be great.  Who will get the 50's purple purse?  Sarah and her mid-life hair crisis might like the red snake-print tights with holes in them?  When  I turned 31, I was pregnant and I received several pairs of sweat pants for my birthday, so 31 was the year of the sweat pants.  35 is feeling like the year of  "Goodbye - Maybe I want to look cheap," and "Hello - Maybe I want to look comfortable." 

But all this talk about what is in that box, and thinking about it, makes me want to dive right back in there and rescue it . . . do I still want to look cheap after all?  A case of 'You can take the girl out of Trashy Town, but you can't take Trashy Town out of the girl.'  That should be a Facebook group.  I would totally join, if I could figure out how.    

Floating On

Mom and Dad watched the girls tonight so that Andrew and I could go on a date.  I am so lame when it comes to staying out late that when we were leaving, two shuffling old couples, on a double date came strolling in and I was thinking, Isn't it late for them to be going out to dinner?  It was 6:45.

I'm so into our little routine, that not only do the girls morph into monsters if they don't eat dinner promptly at 5pm, but I'm beginning to get that way, too.  We went to pick up the girls and Andrew decided to have some (more) dessert and I was like, "What are you doing?  Its 7:30!  Its way past their bedtime.  We need to get home!"  Okay Freakazoid.  Then I put Cecilia in the car, buckled her up, leaned in for a kiss, only to hear, "Mommy your uh idiot."  Nice.  Its really hard not to just get all juvenile and retaliate with, "Oh yeah - well you're a poopin' pants."  But I know where that would lead, so I bite my tongue and smile and say, "You sweetie pie."  Smooch.

Ordinary Blog Post and I-bombs

My friend Amy told me the other day that she loved my blog because most blogs are like, "Look at this cool thing I did, Look at this cool thing I saw, Look how awesome I am."  So since Amy told me that, all I can think about is, "Man, my Christmas tree is so cool, I should blog about how cool it is."  or "Man, that was so cool how we went and cut our Christmas tree at the EOM Christmas Tree farm, I should blog about how cool we are."  or "Wow, it is so awesome how Cecilia calls everyone 'idiot,' all the time . . . I have to blog about that."

Not only did I take pictures of how cool our Christmas tree is, but I posted them here, for you viewing pleasure.  Cool, huh?  (Amy, I hope you're laughing as hard as I am.)  How do you like the picture of us posing under the tree, like a family of dorks?  Pretty cool, huh!

Seriously, it has about 30 pine cones all over it and they're not just hangy-down pine cones, they're curved in whimsical poses, so it is truly magical.  The only bummer is that it fell over or rather was pulled over (as the truth finally came out) by a certain Francesca, who was attempting to pick a pine cone off of the tree.  No one was hurt.  We were on our way out the door for music class and I couldn't get it back in the tree stand properly so I had to prop it against the wall, barely dipping into the water trough.  Since then, we re-decorated it and threw away all the broken ornaments (note to self - don't buy glass ornaments with small children around) but now I think our tree is dying.  I mean - I know its dying, its a cut down tree, but its not drinking ANY water, and considering that its only December 6th, the tree may not make it at this rate.  Andrew is going to drill holes in the bottom and see if that allows the tree to drink.  I just am not in the mood to take it down, re-cut it and re-decorate it again.  The other cool thing about our cool tree is that the pine cones crackle.  They make this cracking sound as they open up.  I've never had a tree that made noise before, so it seems more alive than just decor.  It feels like its breathing.  

On the Cecilia calling everyone "idiot," subject - AAAAARRRGH!  Britney Spears comes to mind just about now, when she recently said that her children say "f*ck" sometimes and, "I don't talk like that around them, so they definitely don't get it from me," and I'm going, Yeah - Riiight.  Britney Spears looks like a girl that could drop some f-bombs, but I'm going to give her the benefit of the doubt and say that her children probably got it from her bodyguards or Kevin.  But seriously, we aren't potty mouths around here.  We say, "silly," and "sillygoose," I DO NOT CALL ANYONE IDIOT . . . except for pets.  When the cat jumps on the table (which is disgusting in itself) but misses and pulls the table cloth off the table along with everything else on the table, I have definitely said, "Aaah! You idiot!"  And when I'm at my mom's house and the dogs are barking non-stop, I've been known to say, "Bandit!  Hush, you idiot!"  Its terrible, I know, but you have no idea how terrible it is to have your barely 2 year old get frustrated and point at you and scream, "Mommy!  You idiot!"  Or get mad and start calling her friends idiots at the park?  I could just come unglued!!!  And the look she gets on her face when she says it is pure meangirl.  She's 2!  I could totally handle her dropping f-bombs, better than I have handled the "idiot," phase.  This suuuucks!!!!  A 2-year-old calling everyone an idiot, is somehow so unnerving.  I just can't handle it!  I tried time-outs, I tried erase and replace, I tried time-outs again.  When Francesca was about the same age, she picked up "godd*mnit," from Andrew and our neighbor, Layne Brown.  She would use it in perfect context, "Godd*mnit, I can't get my hat on!"  We responded calmly, without reacting, by saying, "Dingdangit, you can't get your hat on?"  And voila - erased and replaced the g.d. word. But Cecilia, man, she'll sit at the table going through a list of people, calling them idiots, one, by one.  "Grandpa uh idiot, Granny uh idiot, Auntie Desi uh idiot, Chaka (Francesca) uh idiot," etc., etc., etc.  This "idiot," phase is a b*tch!     

November is Coat Season

Little Suri Cruise never has a coat on.  Hello!  Its freezing outside and Katie and Tom have coats on, and here's Suri in a short sleeved silk dress or whatever - in November, in New York.  I've never been to New York, but unlike a certain vice presidential candidate, I like to think I'm fairly geographically savvy so, New York is NORTH of Colorado, where we wear coats in November . . . and October . . . and December, too.  I totally know what the deal is . . . Suri refuses to put on her coat and Tom and Katie would rather not argue.  But this amounts to teaching our children that they don't have to wear a coat outside when we know, as parents, that its too cold to not wear a coat. 

Here's the section of my blog where I toot my horn:

Francesca and Cecilia do the same thing - they'll say, "I don't want to wear a coat."  And I simply say, "Well then, you can't go outside.  Its wintertime and in the wintertime, we wear coats."  Their winter parkas hang on the coat hooks by the front door.  Francesca's purple parka and Cecilia's blue parka.  They put on their coats.  Toot!  Toot!  As for hats, I had them both trained early.  As infants, they ALWAYS had a hat on.  Summer hats, winter hats, fall and springtime hats, hats for all occasions, we wear hats.  So before the girls go out, they go to the hat box and put on a hat.  Cecilia is IN LOVE with her green sun hat, so for now, the green sun hat has disappeared.  Now she chooses a warm hat and puts it on her head.  Toot!  Toot!  Then they choose boots.  When the weather first began to get cold, they would choose the wrong shoes - sandals - so the sandals have disappeared.  Now they always choose the right boots.  Toot!  Toot!  I think that because we've always done this, they don't like being cold.  They're never cold, so when they ARE cold, they know it and they know that they're not dressed appropriately.  (No such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing choices.)

So while I'm tooting my horn about the girls making good clothing choices, I'd also like to take a minute to give thanks for all my lovely friends and family.  Its been an interesting fall and I feel like my family has crossed into some new, beautiful territory, spiritually.  I feel like Andrew is my soul mate again and that life is wonderful.  I am so thankful for him doing the hard work to get our relationship back on track.  Being married is definitely the most challenging and rewarding adventure I've ever had.  And thanks to my mom and dad, for setting such a shining example of what the rewards are for sticking it out through the tough times.  We are so fortunate to have, not only roofs over our heads, but really nice ones!  I wanted to slap myself today, because I said (again,) when explaining that I don't work anymore, "I just stay home with the girls.  We rent our (big expensive) house out and we live in my parents' rental house in Palisade.  We downsized.  We're poor, but we make it work."  We're not poor.  I hope I never say that again.  Its embarrassing!  We are so rich!  We have everything!  Globally, we live in the top 10% of the socioeconomic pyramid, so . . . although we don't drive a new car, we live in a less than 1500 square foot house, and we won't be shopping on Black Friday, we are far, far, far from poor!  I'm also thankful that my sister and Damon made it over to spend some time with us.  Its always interesting, when they're around.  And I'm thankful for my friends, because friends make life even sweeter!  And for my family who all live far away.  I cherish the days when we all lived close and spent the holidays together . . . I hope that we can do that again some day.  It was such a blast.

One last toot of the horn . . . I'm hungry!!!  I tried to out-eat Andrew and gave myself a stomach ache and then lost the eating competition.  We both weighed-in before eating (Doug and Hayley style) and then weighed out post-eating.  I don't know why I thought I could out-eat him.  What was I thinking?  But now that my stomachache is gone . . . I have room for that chocolate cake.  Toot!  Toot!  I got up early and went for a run.  I'm really proud of myself for finally being a morning runner.  I made a rule with myself that if I don't run in the morning, then I won't run at all and that did it!  And I'm not one of these ultra disciplined people that can just pop awake at 4:30 am for a quick run my whole life.  I have to drag myself up an hour before I'm awake enough to run, and just now, at 34 years old.  So, anyway . . . I run in the mornings, Toot!  Toot!

And now, some teachings from the Buddha . . . which is what helps me get through this visit with my sister and Damon:

Love yourself and be awake -

Today, tomorrow, always.

First establish yourself in the way.

Then teach others,

And so defeat sorrow.

To straighten the crooked

You must first do the harder thing -

Straighten yourself.

You are your only master.

Who else?

Subdue yourself,

And discover your master.

(Adapted from Dhammapada, translated by Thomas Byrom.)

I think that is my new mantra . . . "Straighten yourself."  And when I feel anger flaring, "Subdue yourself."    

New Addictions

Hiking pictures from Monday:


New Addictions:  Dad, Damon and Andrew spent the weekend, a couple of weeks ago, cutting down the gigantic dead tree in our backyard.  They hauled off most of the wood, but our backyard is a wreck of tree bark and sticks and twigs.  Its a perfect disaster for children to play.  So far, we've made various concoctions mixing sawdust (we saved a 5 gallon bucket of it) and water, grass, dirt, sand and berries from neighboring trees and shrubbery.  "Poop soup" is a current favorite, as is "Chamomile smoothies."  The girls have also been building birds nests and little animal homes out of the twigs and bark, and don't even touch their stick horses.  Last week, when we went to see Dr. Motz, Francesca wanted to bring her stick horse and what the heck?  I let her.  And it was a clydesdale, not a pony.  It was pretty funny.  Anyway, Andrew threw a bunch of the bark/stick mess onto a tarp, but its so heavy that I can't move it.  I've raked some of it into a huge area, but I was a bit perplexed about what to do with it.  So, I dug a hole in the back corner of the yard and did what any freezing cold person would do and made a fire pit.  Francesca thought she died and went to heaven.  We roasted marshmallows and warmed up by the fire for most of the day.  I know what we'll be doing every day from now until the mess is burned up!  Hopefully our neighbors won't get sick of the smell of campfire.  I kind of like it.

We're planning on riding the Polar Express with Francesca's FAVORITE friend, Zenon, on the 20th, so I googled "Polar Express" and found www.storylineonline.net.  Its actors reading stories . . . (its totally cute - I just stayed up listening to Al Gore read me a story and actually, I could listen to Elijha Wood read me a story EVERY night, he's adorable.  My favorite so far might be "The Counting Rope," but Stellaluna and the spider one are also faves.  But I digress)  Francesca thought she died and went to heaven for the second time in a day.  Remember, this is the kid that gets NO media, whatsoever.  So she's totally stoked.  I sat with her while she listened to Lou Diamond Philips read "The Polar Express."  In one part, it says that on the train, they drank hot chocolate and ate candies and Francesca turned to me and asked if we would eat candies on the Polar Express.  Yes!  "Real candies?"  she asked.  "Real candies," I replied.  "It will keep me up allll night!" My poor sheltered babe!  So I guess she's more excited about the hot chocolate and candies than the train?  Oh well.  Come to think of it, she was more excited about the marshmallows than the campfire today, too.  

Cecilia is talking like crazy now.  Its so cute.  Her latest is saying, "Actually, it's mine, actually."  And she really rolls her tongue on the "actually."  It sounds like Acsh-alllley - I should record it.  Mom got the girls a tape recorder so they can listen to books on tape.  We've been trying to record them singing songs.  

Charlie and Patty stopped by yesterday on their way for a hike, so we went hiking at the Wild Horse Refuge, just outside of Palisade.  Francesca hiked 1.3 miles straight up and Cecilia hiked about 1 mile down.  I bet their little bodies are so tired.  I carried BOTH of them part way down, until Cecilia decided she wanted to walk.  The brought home pockets full of rocks but we didn't see any horses.  We'll try again when the road is closed.  Pics!

 

Caught up on Pictures!

We hiked "Mountain Garfield" yesterday with the girls.  They are so proud of themselves.  Its a hard hike because its straight up and loose, dusty, "make your hands soft" dirt.  
My little hiking machines -
we didn't make it to the top, but we made it to the second big rock, which is about twice as far as last time.  Francesca slid down on her buns and Cecilia skied down with me holding her hands.  What a beautiful fall day.  

I've been having the girls 'wash dishes' (play in the sink and make a huge mess) while I cook dinner.  Its great because they're wildly entertained and sometimes they even manage to wash a few dishes - win, win!  Cecilia always ends up getting her clothes soaking wet and stripping down.  Sometimes they get so soaked and chilled that we get straight into the bathtub while dinner cooks.  The only bad thing is that all the water dripping on the floor, probably isn't too good for the carpet in our kitchen . . . yuck.            Francesca and Star taking a nap.  Well, Francesca taking a nap while star tolerates the death grip headlock.  Poor cat. 

Magic or The Temple of Mary

Some days, I feel like I'm doing everything wrong, but then some days it all just clicks.  I've been having more click days lately than not and I owe it all to play.  Francesca is moving into a more independent phase and doesn't always listen to me.  I try the less dictatorial ways of getting her to do something, like begging or the "may" trick, but it doesn't work.  What works like a charm is singing and pretending like she is Luke.  I can say, "Francesca let's put away these blocks before we move on to the instruments," and she either acts like I just said that in french, or she says, "You put them away."  But if I say, "Luke, let's put away these blocks."  CLICK!  She is suddenly putting away the blocks with a goofy grin on her face, like its the most fun she's had all day.  I can't help humming Mary Poppins tunes in my head all day long.  Right!

"It depends on your point of view.  You see . . . 

There is an element of fun

You find the fun and snap!

The job's a game

And every task you take

Becomes a piece of cake

A lark!  A spree!

Its very clear to see that . . .  

A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down

The medicine go down

Medicine go down

Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down

In the most delightful way

(Robin starts to whistle)

A robin feathering his nest, has very little time to rest

While gathering his bits of twine and twig.

Thought quite intent in his pursuit

He has a merry tune to toot

He knows a song, will move the job along!

Dinnertime is always a crap shoot with the girls.  My sister gets frustrated with the whole deal, but I've read somewhere, that its just how it is with toddlers, so I don't feel too badly about it. Andrew works late, so dinner is usually just the girls and I and most the time I spend a large part of it trying to coax them into eating.  I made green beans and potatoes with bacon and steamed sweet potatoes and sweet potato pie for desert (Francesca's specialty is whipped cream.)  They were just eating the sweet potatoes so I started singing:

(To the tune of "I'm a Little Teapot) 

Don't forget to eat your green beans too, 

Because I made you green bean stew.  

Here let me show you what to do . . . 

Open your mouth and put one through.  

It was so awesome - they giggled through their dinner and ate it all . . . I am so channeling Mary Poppins over here!  Whenever I feel like I'm being not so fun . . . I'm just going to think - What would Mary do?

OH - and speaking of Mary's . . . Why do I love Palisade?  Let me count the ways . . . MARY LINCOLN . . . I LOVE YOU!  The day after Obama won the election and the entire world was singing praises and doing dances of love and hope and joy . . . Mesa County goes out and stocks up on its assault weapons.  Mary was so appalled that she decided to make fun of those jack*sses and sell hand gun shaped sugar cookies with a sign that said, "JOIN THE CROWD!  No background checks, no waiting lines . . ."  Oh - I love it.  And when a reporter tried to punk her about Sam's criminal history and selling hand gun cookies, she said, "Oh, we sell to felons, too.  And we don't check i.d.'s."  

Trying to catch up on pics

Here's a photo from the day Cecilia and Francesca got a birthday package from Auntie Kathie. Cecilia is holding her purse and Francesca is wearing her "high heels" and fairy wings. She has walked to and from the grocery store in those high heels countless times now. She especially likes them because they clip and clop really loudly, so she sounds like a horse.

So we have a habit of opening our mail and packages outside the post office, on the park bench. When we get magazines, like Ladybug or Thomas the Train or Animal Baby, we sit on the park bench outside the P.O. and read it. So when we received this huge box from Auntie Kathie and Uncle Steve on a windy day, Francesca heaved it outside to open it right then and there. I'm thinking, "Okay - this will be okay - its a present, right?" Well, it wasn't A present, it was about 10 presents, each wrapped in pretty tissue paper and bows. The girls used their teamwork to open each one and play with it, or put it on, while I chased tissue paper into the street or parking lot. At one point, I gave up and let a small piece of tissue paper fly into the parking lot and Cecilia chased after it yelling, "Litterbug! Litterbut!" The paper got caught in a whirlwind and Cecilia chased it in circles until it blew into her and stuck to her chest. So, Auntie Kathie and Uncle Steve's package contained two fairy outfits, complete with wings and wands. That night, my parents and sister and Damon were sitting around the dinner table eating when Cecilia came in and went all around the table with her wand, saying, "Mama - Zoop! You're a horse! Desiree, Zoop! You're a cow! Damon, Zoop! You're a chicken! Granny - Zoop! You're a pig!" It was hilarious. So - that was just the top layer of presents. There were also bristle blocks, which we raced home to play with asap, farm animal magnets, two horsey finger puppets (which were really cute, but also funny because the finger goes in the bum) a super soft stuffed cow, and on the bottom layer, two fancy lady packages with silky purses, pearls, feather boas and high heels. Francesca threw off her boots and put them on straight away and wears them every chance she gets. Cecilia can't quite walk in them very well, so she doesn't wear them very long, but she still gets the gist of it. Tanks a million, Auntie Kathie and Uncle Boppa! We love you guys!

On Cecilia's birthday, forced ourselves into a nature walk at the park. Francesca was really excited that she climbed this tree all by herself. Its the coolest tree, down at Riverbend Park.

I think this is her TaDA! I'm so happy face.

Here's my little Halloween witch. She had planned on being an elephant, so we had a homemade elephant costume from when Desiree was little, but Granny, shopaholic that she is, bought about six costumes on clearance somewhere. So the day of Halloween, Francesca was a elephant in the morning, then a fairy later on in the day, and then a witch at night. She might have been a princess somewhere in there, too. I think Cecilia was a fairy for awhile, but at night, she refused to put on her panda bear or dog or princess or fairy or pig costumes. Oh well. I tried.

Tree Huggers

We have been meeting friends at Riverbend Park for a nature walk every Thursday at 10:30am.  It is so much fun.  When the girls are a little older, I think we'll do it every day.  

Cecilia's new gig is saying stuff like, "Heck yeah." and "Yes ma'am!"  Or "Yeah Ma'am."  She is so hilarious.  I wanted to post a funny post about something, but my brain isn't working yet . . . its too early in the am.  Pictures will have to suffice!

Obama Baby!

Cecilia says, "Obama, baby," whenever she sees me in my Obama gear.  I'm so happy I can still wear my 2 Obama sweatshirts and t-shirts with giddy pride!  Yippee!  America - you aren't the headless monster that I thought you were in the past two elections!  Good job, America.  And Colorado . . . you're blue!  Oh - you!  Now this, I'm having a hard time even believing because while the day after the election, the entire world was dancing a collective celebration jig because Obama will be our newly elected president, in Mesa County, people rushed out and stocked up on their assault weapons.  No - its no joke.  I'm not kidding.  Check it out if you're down there in Florida and want some comic relief.  I can't fit the while article address, but its at www.gjfreepress.com/article/20081106/COMMUNITY_NEWS  What is wrong with these people?  What are they so afraid of? This is GJ, not L.A..

My Auntie Kathie sent me an e-mail about her friend that flew to Ghana and that the news there predicted Obama was going to win by a landslide . . . go figure.  Meanwhile, we were here sweating bullets.  Or at least I was.  

Today was Cecilia's Birthday . . . she's two years old now.  Ah - where does the time go?  We had a completely delightful day.  She woke up and opened her new doll, some play silks, a baby sling, a blanket and a baklava.  She loves the doll, I love the baklava.  Its this wool hood thing that she can pull over her head and just her little face shows through the face hole.  I'll have to post a picture, but alas, she hasn't worn it for very long before taking it off.  She LOVES her green sun hat so this is perfect because she can wear her sun hat over it and still stay warm this winter. I like to think that there's no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing choices, right?  The girls are always bundled to the hilt and people in t-shirts are always like, "Geez!  You're all bundled up!  haha!"  And I'm thinking, "Geez is right, buddy, your arms are bright red with goose bumps all over them and you're probably going to have a cold next week.  Put a coat on.  Its 35 degrees.  How cold does it have to be for peeps to wear a dang coat?"  

So after breakfast, we walked down to Riverbend park for a nature walk.  Francesca wanted to ride her big wheel, so she rode that about 1/2 way and then walked with Auntie Desi and Uncle Damon.  Cecilia was already tired, so we came back to the house for sandwiches and cake and tea.  That's all Cecilia wanted for her birthday . . . cake and tea.  Ohmygod - Mary Lincoln's cakes from Slice O'Life bakery are to die for.  Peeps at our wedding - you know what I'm talkin' 'bout.  

Both girls took naps and then we went to Granny's for dinner, more presents, a bonfire, the Travel Around the Sun ritual (Sharon, you rule) and a lantern walk at Granny's house, with Francesca leading the way.  It was beautiful and peaceful and I'm so glad that I didn't fry my babes out.  I guess the Birthday theme was under-stimulation and it was just perfect for Cecilia.  Even with the under-stim plan, by the end of the night, we were sitting around the campfire singing and Cecilia was mumbling, "Go home now.  Me go home now."  And when I kissed her tonight and said "Happy Birthday," (for the 100th time) she said, "No.  Stop it."  I said, "Are you tired of us smothering you?"  And she said, "Yes."  And that was the end of that.  Particular little thing.    

Give me a break!

Andrew and I NEVER do anything alone.  Well, I run in the mornings and he runs during his lunch break at work, but we don't ever make time to go on dates or anything.  I felt like I was being super short with the girls this weekend so on Sunday, I told my parents that I needed a break so that we could go out.  So Andrew and I just went out for pizza and then scooted down to the Avalon to see "Tell No One," which was a French movie and was AWESOME - I highly recommend it.  We usually don't go for that sort of movie, but going to the Avalon is more appealing than going to the megaplex/mall dealiegig.  Plus, I really want to support anything at the Avalon.  

Anyway - I feel SO much better since I just got a break away from the girls!  ARGH!  And the girls are happier, because mommy is happier and everybody is happy!  Yippee!  We need to do that every weekend.  

Its been awhile since I've blogged, so I'll attach some photos tonight.  Francesca had a BLAST on Halloween, running from house to house in Palisade (I love Palisade!)  And Cecilia rebelled on wearing a costume of any sort, so she went from house to house with her purse on her shoulder as herself with a candy filled purse on her shoulder.  More later!

SOMETHING TO BLOG ABOUT (BESIDES POLITICS!)

Woo hoo!

On Friday, my parents and sister and Damon left for Moab to go camping.  We were up in the air about whether or not to go and mom had worked until 7:00 at night almost every day last week, so she came over to visit Friday morning before leaving for Moab.  While I got Cecilia down for a nap, mom and Francesca went to run a couple of errands.  Cecilia slept and I worked on the puppets I'm making for her birthday puppet show.  I have less than two weeks left, so I think I'm on track.  If I can finish the puppets this week then I can do a practice run sometime next week.  But I digress . . . so mom and Francesca never came back.  When Cecilia woke up, I called mom and she had taken Francesca up to the house, so Cecilia and I jumped in the car and went up to the house.  

There was lots of commotion with everyone getting ready to go and it was obvious that Francesca thought she was going.  I took her away from the last minute action and broke the news to her that we would be leaving for Moab the following day.  She burst into tears and screamed and hollered until my mom came over.  Long story short, Francesca decided she could take a night away with no mommy or daddy and loaded herself into her car seat in Grandpa's truck.  My dad was nervous and kept asking me, "Are you SURE she'll be okay?" and I assured him she would, as long as he stopped saying stuff like that (so as not to place doubt in her little head.)

I thought Cecilia would miss Francesca and be asking constantly where she was, but she knew, "Chacka camping in MO-AB."  Cecilia had a blast being the only child.  She actually got to talk (she had a chance to get a word in edgewise.)  It makes me realize how much Francesca talks non-stop.  

When we finally made it to Moab on Saturday, Francesca was glowing.  She had been outside all day and she looked so happy.  She had been baking cakes and cookies and soups in the sand with her cardboard 12-pack boxes set up as ovens with sand toys and kitchen spoons.  At one point, Damon dumped one of her bowls out and she said, "Damon!  You're wasting my batter." She slept in Granny and Grandpa's camper, in between them and said that "Grandpa is like sleeping with a big teddy bear."  We really, really, really need to do that about every other weekend.  We say that every time we go camping, then we just get bogged down in the everyday humdrum, but we really need to make the effort to get away more often.  

Our friend John came, too.  John rolls his own American Spirit cigarettes and Francesca was curious about what he was doing.  John took his time and explained about cigarettes and addiction and Francesca listened intently.  When he was finished talking about it, Francesca said frankly, "I think I'm addicted to toys."  My dad said he about split a gut laughing.

So - whens the next camping trip?  Anyone up for next weekend???  It wasn't too cold at night and the days were so nice and warm.  I had on shorts and tank top both days.  It was gorgeous.  We camp out Mineral Bottom Road and there isn't really anyone out there.  Next time, we want to spend more time at Slickrock, but I think we'll still camp in the same area.  It just feels very remote.  If we go next weekend, we just have to be back before 4pm on Sunday because I've finally promised to volunteer for Obama.  Argh.  Hopefully I can twist some friends' arms to go with me?  Peeps?  Peeps?  I have hope for a Nov. 4th win, but with McCain's recent statement "guaranteeing a win on election day," and his unprecedented plans for a very private election night party consisting only of his staff and some volunteers, planning to make his victory speech via satellite . . . I'm afraid the fix is in.  Something is rotten in McNasty Town.

MCCAIN'S BASE

So, I don't like putting icky stuff out there, but this is just too crazy to not tell someone.  

Andrew is a delivery driver for UPS and so he walks into all sorts of businesses and hears all sorts of things, everyday.  Usually, he will come home and tell me some kooky thing that he heard while walking into a business that is listening to Rush Limbaugh, but the other day, he walked into a business and the secretary lady was talking on the phone.  This is what she said,

"Well, I was wondering, if he gets elected, why can't a bunch of people just get a bunch of guns and go and stage a coupe?  I asked my dad about it and he said that its the military's job to defend the president, no matter who they are, so he said we couldn't do that.  He said the military would shoot you down."  I say - WHAAAAT?  This is the McCain Base.  I told him he should've called the police or something!  That's just nutty!  If I publish this post, is someone going to knock on my door and question me about it?  If so - don't waste your time.  He overheard this conversation at Fireplace West.  Go get her! 

Sarah Palin

Behold, Rolling Stone's article on Sarah Palin.  I only wish I had written it.

http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/23318329/mad_dog_palin

And don't miss the article on McCain, too:

www.rollingstone.com/news/coverstory/make_believe_maverick_the_real_john_mccain

Palin was in GJ today . . . barf!

Debates '08

I tortured my children (and sister and Damon) by going to mom's tonight to watch a smidgen of the debates.  We don't have a TV at home and so whenever I'm around one, I turn into a zombie and ignore my children and they in turn, turn into hyper children, begging for my attention or anyone else's attention, creating an impossible atmosphere or watching the debates.  From what I could watch and listen to on the radio, my synapses is:

Obama:  Positive, intelligent, thoughtful, honest, future forward thinking, organized thought and speech, open minded, empathetic, clarified every attack from McCain w/o savaging in response, "work with me, I listen" vibe.

McCain: Evasive, aggressive, edgy, negative, condescending, arrogant, 72 year old face and neck skin stretched tighter than mine, stinkin' old and goitery, "Grumpy, hothead channeling John Goodman in The Big Labowski" vibe. 

Pumpkins . . . Sweet, Sweet Pumpkins

For whatever reason, I love pumpkins.  On Friday, we drove all the way to Fruita to visit the Jouflas pumpkin patch and corn maze.  We spent $30 on pumpkins and so far I've cooked 1 1/2 of them.  This morning I made pumpkin currant muffins.  For afternoon snack, we had mac and cheese with a  bit of pumpkin puree snuck in there with pumpkin smoothies.  Sick of pumpkin yet?  For dinner I made pumpkin mushroom lasagna.  Pumpkins are considered a super food so they're just insanely good for you.  Here is my favorite lasagna recipe for your eating pleasure (shout out to all my foodies out there!)

Pumpkin smoothies:  Vanilla or Maple Brown Cow yogurt with pureed pumpkin, sprinkle in some cinnamon, top with whipped creme and watch as your children eat only the whipped creme!

Pumpkin Mushroom Lasagna:  I've made this so many times that I know it by heart:  

Saute 4 cups finely chopped onion for about 5 minutes

Add 6 cups finely shopped mushrooms (nobody ever said lasagna was cheap.)  Saute

Add 2 TBSP dried sage (the sage makes it . . . it will be your  new favorite spice.)

1/2 tsp salt

1 Cup chicken broth

Set aside

Mix together (this is my altered version because the recipe calls for ingredients that I can't find:)

29 oz can of pumpkin or 3 1/2 cups pureed pumpkin

1 tub of ricotta

Almost 1 tub of cottage cheese

2 eggs

1/2 c grated Parmesan or Romano  

1/2 tsp nutmeg

1/2 tsp salt

Key:  RICE PASTA LASAGNA NOODLES!  You don't have to pre-cook them!!!  Just throw them in the pan.

Additional Romano/Parmesan for sprinkling on top and/or in between layers.

Scoop about 1/2 cup of the broth from the mushroom mixture into the bottom of your lasagna dish.  Lay down noodles, then smear on pumpkin/cheese mixture, then scoop on mushroom mixture.  Repeat.  Finish with noodles and then mushroom mixture on top.  Top with Parmesan and/or Romano cheese.  Cook covered at 375 for 50 minutes, uncover for 10 minutes.  Yummy!

My Peeps Read My Blog?

Who knew?  I thought I was typing for therapy or just to keep a record of the daily doings . . . like today, when I actually heard myself say, "Girls, sit down and eat your fries and your ice cream."  It was so funny to hear, that I had to repeat myself a few times.  "Come on girls, lets eat your fries and your ice cream.  Don't just eat your ice cream, eat your fries, too."  In my defense, they had already eaten a delicious home made veggie beef stew and then went for a little after dinner walk.  I had meant to serve the fries with the soup, but they took longer than I expected, so I served them with the ice cream that I had promised, in order that they would eat the stew!  I hate using bribery, but it totally works when it comes to food for ice cream.  Will Eat Food For Ice Cream - that's what the sign should say on Cecilia.  She will do anything for ice cream.  I've never met anyone with such a sweet tooth, except for my cousin Hayley.  That kid has always had a sweet tooth.  

I went to the Sweet Tooth/Meat Tooth wedding of the century over the weekend.  Hayley and Doug tied the knot in an awesome boathouse in Wash Park.  It was a really nice crowd.  Everyone wore black, and looked totally awesome.  Hayley was beautiful, inside and out, as usual and lots of sweet family were there.  It was good to see everyone, although I never feel like I get enough.  When I'm always chasing after Francesca and Cecilia, I never feel like I get to finish a conversation or train of thought, but I guess such is life with wee ones.  At one point, Cecilia was standing at the balcony, watching some kids feed the ducks below.  She watched them for awhile and then I turned for about 5 seconds to talk to someone and she was gone.  I thought, "No, way would that little sh*t be able to figure out how to go out the stairs and around the building to the lake . . . "  I made it down the stairs, and there she was, milling around, trying to find her way to the ducks.  She's not afraid of getting too far from me.  I missed the band at the wedding.  I heard that Reverend Dead Eye was great.  Since I didn't get to hear him play, I must say, love the doo.  And the drum decor was cool, too.  OH and the food was totally fab.  When I was young, it used to really bug me when people went somewhere and came back and just yacked about the food.  I was like, "You went to Greece and all you can talk about was the food?"  But being older and wiser and hungrier, I know that if you go somewhere, like a foreign country or a foreign town or a party and the food is bad or there's not enough food, then that pretty much means that you have a bad time.  My friend Olivia went to Cuba and tried all the food there was to try . . . and got deathly ill from some too raw goat sandwich and it ruined a bit of the trip, but I do recall that she said, "that was a f*ckin' good sandwich."  So the food was super yummy and the cake was super yummy, the peeps were super yummy and so the time was super yummy.  Since I left the party early, I daydreamed a toast in my head that would have gone something like this, "Hayley and Doug - like your friend that married you said, it is hard to separate the two of you.  You've been together since High School.  I remember when Kathie was telling us that Hayley's boyfriend was Mr. Ft. Collins or something, at their high school.  He had won a talent contest as an Elvis impersonator or something?  Did he have a job as an Elvis impersonator?  I can't recall, but the point is that I really admire your individuality AND your togetherness.  I admire your sweet and kind natures.  You always greet people with a smile and a warm and loving heart and I love that about you, both.  You just ooze this genuine goodness and it flows from you and warms my heart.  Keep rockin' and I hope to see more of you in the future . . . like a baby . . . that would be more of you."  Ha!  Ha!  I can't help it . . . I'm a breeder and all we breeders care about is our offspring and telling everyone else to have some offspring.  So I must get to bed, before I launch into a full on assault about the awesomeness of parenting, like when Uncle Damon, Auntie Desi and Cecilia and I were sitting outside enjoying a snack today when, Francesca suddenly bolted to the tree, jerking down her pants but not in the nick of time, and then tried to stop the pee with her hand, spraying pee everywhere, while we just sat there in shock, unable to react quickly enough to save her from the ordeal . . . that's just not the type of thing you can really enjoy if you're only hanging out with adults.  If one of your friends did that . . . it would lack a certain hilarity.  No?  But when a kid does it . . . oh man . . . magic . . . pure magic.  (Hey, she's only three.)  And she's so awesome, that after I stripped off her clothes and told her to run inside for some dry pants, she made a pitstop at the hose, to hose herself off in the freezing cold water.  Pure magic.

   

September 25th - Another day in paradise

Been awhile since I've rapped at ya . . . 

I need to get some pictures up in this blog.  Our kittens are getting huge and so are my children.  And so is my a**, since Teresa and I went out whoopin' it up on Saturday at the Wine Fest.  Argh.  The Wine Fest was super fun and we would've been fine to just do that and go home, but nooooo!  "I've never been to the Distillery!"  So I just had to go to the Distillery . . . which serves cocktails in 16 ounce cups, so that should give you an pretty good idea about the size of my hangover the next day.  Why did I do that?  Hopefully it will be another 10 years or so before I poison myself like that again.  So, I haven't run much since Saturday morning . . . but enough about that.

I've been reading "Eat, Pray, Love," and I'm totally in love with this book.  Everyone should read this.  And I am starting meditation as soon as I finish reading it.  Not just because of this book, I have been contemplating a meditation practice for awhile now, I just didn't quite know where to start.  I've talked to my friend Sharon about it and she told me about a book, but I forgot what the title was . . . and then, oddly enough, my friend Anna had a book of mine, "How to Meditate," that I loaned her ages ago.  I came home the other day and there was this book, "How to Meditate," just sitting in my living room, begging me to meditate.  Perfect timing.  I just love that.  And with everything that is going on in the world/economy/food prices/housing crisis/poor house, I don't want to stress out about it . . . meditating myself into blissful happiness sounds like the perfect thing to do in a times like these!  

Obama! Obama! Obama!

http://www.factcheck.org

Get the facts and have our all of our ducks in a row . . . the McCain/Palin campaign are spreading so many lies that its hard to keep up with them all.  factcheck.org does a good job or trying to sort it all out.

Obama in GJ was awesome!  The girls and Granny and I stood in like FOREVER to get in, but it was worth it to see Obama, so full of hope and integrity and intelligence.  With so much negativity and doom and gloom out there, its hard to stay positive, but we have to - don't let the bastards get you down!

Big Brother is Out There!

Four days after my Vitamin Cottage post, I received two emails of apology from their staff.  At first I thought one of my friends forwarded it to them, but I don't really think anyone reads my blog, so the second one said at the top that they received my blog from "Google Alerts."  So this is some slick China-esk software that Google runs that will alert you if certain words are posted on the internet!  Slick tool for a business . . . a little bit freaky for a mom blogging to nobody but myself in Palisade!

I am totally re-thinking that blog on extended breastfeeding.  Someone could have a Google Alert on "ninnies" for all I know.  I'll also take off the rant to Uncle Charlie . . . I'm a comfort junkie, the last thing I want is to fight with my relatives or Vitamin Cottage, for that matter!

Farewell to Vitamin Cottage!

I kicked myself for ever shopping at Vitamin Cottage, when Sundrop Grocery closed.  But then I shopped at Vitamin Cottage anyway, because I really had no choice . . . until now!

Goodbye Vitamin Cottage - never again will you fill up two baskets with my groceries, then say to my two children and me, "Thanks and have a nice day!" leaving me to wonder how to navigate two grocery carts and two children to the car.

Yo Vitamin Cottage!  Never again will I return home and realize that I'm missing my sausage, my keifer and my eggs, only to call and have the clerk argue that she did in fact place the eggs in my bag, but then call back and have the manager who bagged my groceries say, "Sorry that happened.  If you bring your receipt in, we will give you the items you forgot to put in your cart."

Adios Vitamin Cottage - never again will I return home and wonder what the "CC Colored Glass" for $11.99 cents is on my receipt because you charged me for that instead of a sandwich. And that was just my trip this week.

I'm sure you won't miss my family and I eating our way through your store (we pay for everything, of course.)  It was just easier to give in and let the girls go ahead and eat those raspberries or that Luna bar before we hit the checkout.  I'm sure you won't miss us spilling yogurt by the dairy case or chocolate milk at the checkout either.  And I'm sure you won't miss Francesca dumping the ground coffee from the grinder's spill tray either.  I'm not under the illusion that you will even notice our absence.

But just for the record, I was a one of your few customers that bought ALL my groceries at your store.  I believe that I was one of the few, because I was always the only customer with my cart stocked to overflowing at the checkout.  Most other customers have some olive oil, some water, diapers, maybe something for lunch, just a few items.  So maybe you'll miss the $350 I spent every week.  I doubt it, but maybe.

  

Beginning today, I am able to bring my shopping list, in all of its organic, all natural, no food coloring, no artificial ingredients, no hydrogenated oils, Maverick Ranch chicken, Recharge, Popsicles, organic fair coffee, medicinal teas, all natural evaporated milk, glory to Kelly at Family Food Town.  He said he'd get whatever I wanted, that he has lots of special orders and that whatever I wanted was probably stuff that he should be carrying anyway (how awesome!)  He even said he could probably get me a better price, which I don't doubt for a second.  So from now on, instead of getting ripped off by a corporation (Whole Foods) or a family owned corporation (Vitamin Cottage) I can get everything from my locally owned and operated, Family Food Town grocery store.  Yippee!  

The only downfall is that I now will become even more reclusive . . . staying in Palisade all the time.  Everyone!  Come visit!

Angry Woman

Epictetus wrote, "If you do not wish to be prone to anger, do not feed the habit; give it nothing which may tend to its increase.  At first, keep quiet and count the days when you were not angry:  I used to be angry every day, then every other day, next every two, then every three days!  And if you succeed in passing thirty days, sacrifice to the gods and give thanksgiving."

I decided to try it.  I haven't made it one day yet.  I was doing pretty good today, but then I just read Sarah Palin's speech.  Argh!  I've enjoyed my blog because its nice to look back and reflect, but I don't want it to turn into a b*tch session column, complaining, ranting and angry about this or that.  But seriously, a woman running for the vice presidency and calling herself a "gal."  Seriously?  As in, "Take it from a gal who knows . . . " what?  I can't even get into it.  The evangelical pastor that invited McCain and Obama for Q & A session comes to mind.  Obama was asked if he believed that evil exists.  After reading Palin's speech, my answer is YES, evil does exist.  I can't even say anymore about that because that would be "feeding the habit."  What can I do?  Maybe I'll call the Dem. headquarters tomorrow to see if I can do anything to help.  

I'll try again tomorrow to not get angry.  Its harder than I thought.  I never realized that a bipolar, schizophrenic x-boyfriend from Boulder may have been onto something when he nicknamed me "angry woman."  But that's another story. 

Granny Yaya

Cecilia didn't call Granny anything until recently.  During our mealtime blessing, we all give a blessing and then we say, "Cecilia, who are you thankful for?"  And she said, "Mama!"  And then Francesca would say, "Cecilia, who are you REALLY thankful for?"  And she always answered, "Bapa!"  which is Grandpa.  Sometimes we said, "What about Granny?"  And she said, "Uuuuuhhhh . . . " in a tone of, "uh, she's okay, but - no . . . no thank you."

At last, she calls Granny, "Yaya" and it stuck.  Now everyone calls Granny, "Yaya."  We're now also calling Francesca, "ChaCha," because that's just about what Cecilia calls her.  Its a cute nick name, but I'm trying to still call her Francesca as much as possible since its such a pretty name and I think that people like being called by their names.

The Manball -The Final Chapter

What an idiot I was!  I went into that surgery so blindly!  Instead of getting a 2nd opinion, I'm like, "Aww - this guys cool, I think I'll go with him."  What?

Instead of following my doctor's advice and going with the surgeon he referred, I'm like, "Nah - I'll just go with this guy, he has a nice personality, he's cool."  

Instead of doing extensive research, I went into this totally blind.  Instead of questioning the fact that this surgeon diagnosed me as having a hydrocele, something so rare that google didn't have much in the way of information, I just went with his word.  What was I thinking????  Oh - and if having the surgeon telling me his car broke down on the way to the surgery and that he'd only been out of med school 2 years wasn't enough to make me run the heck out of there, I should have ran out screaming when he told me he had been "reading up on hydroceles last and the only information he could find dated back to the 1800's.  I too, had been reading that same information the night before, because I was trying to inform myself about hydroceles.  Why the heck was he cramming for the test the night before?  Yikes.

After two more unsatisfying visits with my surgeon, I did what I meant to do before surgery - went directly from my crappy surgeon to Dr. Ackley.  He's the surgeon that my regular doctor referred me to in the first place.  The moment I was shown into the, what do they call it, an observation room?, the moment I was shown into the room, it was a completely different scene.  The nurse showing me to the room took my temperature and asked my why I was here today, as opposed to just showing me in and shutting the door.  I gave her my blow by blow and summed it up by explaining that I just wanted someone else to look at me to make sure everything was okay.  Dr. Ackley entered and started by saying that he had just read through my records and , "Wow, looks like you've really been through a lot!"  Relief washed over me.  Finally, some empathy!  For me, this phrase confirmed what I had been feeling all along with the crappy surgeon - he and his staff have a complete and total lack of empathy.  Every time I was there, I felt like - I don't know, just like I didn't matter.  I always left feeling like - what just happened?  I didn't get to say what I wanted or I didn't hear what I wanted.  Every time I entered the office and signed in, I was NOT greeted by one of the four ladies behind the desk.  I had to stick my head through the window and say, "HI!" for anyone to acknowledge me.  Just sticking my head through the window wasn't enough.  They would actually look directly at me, then look back down at whatever more important than patients thing they were doing.

So - long story short - despite Dr. Crappy telling me that everything was fine, not 15 minutes prior to my visit with Dr. Ackley, Dr. Ackley said this.  That hydroceles are "pretty rare."  

"I know," I said.  "I googled them and came up with nothing!"  

"Well, pretty rare is probably an understatement.  VERY rare is probably closer to the truth."  Duh - that should have been my first clue that Dr. Crappy wasn't Johnny on the Spot.  Dr. Ackley also said and demonstrated that the swelling in my groin was fluid, probably left behind when Dr. Crappy failed to clamp off all the pathways to the gland that he unnecessarily biopsied.  He said that it should go a way, but if it didn't, he would be able to get it out easily.

Big sigh of relief and lesson learned.  Just because I'm healthy, doesn't mean that I should take my health lightly.  Especially when it comes to doctors!  Argh!!

Luke's Memories

My dad's best friend from high school came over today.  He said he just wanted to hang around with another "jar head" and the nearest and dearest one around is Andrew, my husband. Andrew never had any "action"as a Marine.  He was the barracks manager and spent most of his time lifting weights, drinking beer and trying to get some action when off duty (to no avail, I might add.)  Luke, on the other hand is a Vietnam Veteran.  I've known Luke since I was in High School.  I think he moved back here from somewhere and reconnected with my dad and they've been tight ever since.  He's gone through some hard times lately, with prostate cancer that has been "playing games" with  him, due to the agent orange dropped on him in the war, but I'm sure that anything that life throws at Luke at this point is laughable compared to what he went through in his young life as a avionics mechanic in the Vietnam War.  

So while my dad was dodging the draft in college, Luke joined when he was 17 years old.  And Luke doesn't mind that my dad didn't go - he says that he went so that my dad didn't have to go.  That's just the kind of guy Luke is, sweet and full of love.  He's not the sort that talks of these things all the time with anyone.  My dad knows less about it than Andrew does.    

When Luke walked in the door and said he just wanted to drink a beer with another jar head, I jogged my memory - was it the Marine Corps Birthday?  Luke's Birthday?  No - its the anniversary of the worst day of his life.  Now I remember, my dad said that this is always a hard time of year for Luke.  He and Andrew talked quietly about what happened 42 years ago, today. 

I think I've actually seen something like it in a movie and I know there are books about it, because he gave Andrew a copy.  My dad once said that helicopter gunners in the Vietnam War lasted about 2 weeks.  Luke lasted for 13 months.  During that time, 42 years ago today, August 8th, when Marines called to be lifted out of an area, Luke and a crew of three or four landed the helicopter where directed and were ambushed.  A child threw a grenade into his helicopter, a little girl and it was Luke that fought his way out, and I guess you can imagine the rest.  The only people that lived to tell the tale were Luke and the badly wounded helicopter pilot.

He said that they would drop troops out in the jungle, only to pick them up less than half of them only 20 minutes later.    

He joined because of a family member whom he admired and was in the corps.  He thought he was doing the right thing.  He was doing something!  Helping out!  It wasn't until he arrived stateside, dressed proudly in his Marine Corps fatigues, with his duffel bag and was greeted by a beautiful blond woman spitting on him and calling him a "baby killer."  Confused, he promptly went to the airport restroom to change into civilian clothes.  When he finally arrived home, he was greeted at the airport only by his parents.  "It was just me, my mom, my dad and my duffel bag.  Not my brothers and sisters or anybody else."  I would imagine that he had expected a hero's welcome, not being spit on. 

Even though Andrew never fired his gun at anything other than a target, even though he never shipped himself anywhere but home, Luke feels a kindred spirit with him.  Tonight they are brothers.  On the anniversary of worst day of Luke's life, he visited with Andrew maybe because he reminds Luke of his friends, his young, young friends that died and are still dying from agent orange induced cancers that they cannot fight due to the wounds sustained in the war.  Or maybe Andrew is what Luke was before he went to Vietnam, un-haunted with the doings of a too young, too sweet, man, full of the desire to do what is good and what is right.  If only the government hadn't f*cked it up and sent him to hell and back instead.  

I look at my children, sleeping in their beds and think - they will never have a day so horrible, in all their lives.  They will never have a day so horrible that it haunts them forevermore.  Nor will I, or my husband or my family or friends.  I don't believe in God, but when I think of Luke, I think of Angels kissing him awake every day and watching over him through the day, kissing him to sleep at night, because he is a truly, deeply sweet person, living with memories that I'm sure he would rather forget. 

In the words of Philip Caputo in "A Rumor of War," 

". . . whatever the rights or wrongs of the war, nothing can diminish the rightness of what you tried to do . . . You were faithful.  Your country was not."

Row, Row, Row, Row, Row, Row

I've always liked the song "Row, Row, Row Your Boat," because I think its a beautiful metaphor for life.  I like to think of myself as rowing down the stream of life, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.  I began singing this song to Cecilia because she didn't like me to sing to her at all, until this song . . . 

"Twinkle, Twinkle," 

"Noo!"

"Hush little baby,"

"No!"

"Hushabye, don't you cry,"

"No!"

"Goodnight babies,"

"No!"

"Maay, may all,"

"No!"

"Row, row, row your boat,"

  The only song Cecilia will let me sing is "Row, Row, Row Your Boat."  If I try and sing another song, she screams, "ROW BOAT - NOOO BOOOOAAAT!!!"  and it is so unbearable, that we (Francesca and I) give in and sing Row, Row Row Your Boat.  Its gotten so that we can sometimes sneak in other songs, to the tune of Row, Row, Row Your Boat, but if we deviate too far from the original song, Cecilia notices and rounds us back to the o.g.

Today at breakfast, we sang a robust version of Eat, eat, eat your oatmeal, chew it in your Mouth . . . Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, 'Till it goes down south.  Aaah!  They like to scream in between songs.  Cecilia is actually getting pretty good at singing the song.  She says, "Row, row, row, row, row, row, row, boat . . . merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily . . . aaah!"  I love how she says merrily - she really gets her tongue into it . . . melllillllly . . melliillly . . . her tongue actually curls upwards and wags in and out of her mouth.    

Today we finally had a breakthrough.  "It's Raining, It's Pouring," is now an acceptable song.  So her melodic range has opened up to include two songs.  Aaahh!

I've been trying to sing this "Hallelujah song that Donna Simmons taught us and Francesca loves it.  I have to say, seeing a 3 1/2 year old bop around the house singing "Hallelujah" is pretty stinkin' cute.