robot•jumping•rope

hey kids.

how’s tricks?

we’re easing into sunny over here.

a little school. lots of work on the house. many ice pops. gobs of chlorinated water. much firefly hunting.  gardening galore before the kansas heat knocks us over.  quite a bit of chillaxing (that’s straight from the DINK lexicon).  a smidge of vacation time for the blog.

good stuff.

i’ll see ya in a bit.

love,

me

hey peeps

how is every little thing?

it’s spring. have you noticed? i can’t stop smiling.

all the windows are open and i’m having sugar-free chocolate pudding. meh. next time it’s pistachio pudding with gobs of real sugar. still smiling, though.

so the daughter had her first ever piano recital this weekend. i’m a little bit thrilled. she’s been in lessons for a mere 3 months but her teacher thinks highly of little fish jumping right into big oceans so on saturday she waited her turn and bounded up the stage steps and looked so small but fierce in her purple and white easter dress that i couldn’t help but sniff back a little tear.

she did beautifully. as beautifully as one can do a song that’s half a page long and involves only a few fingers. if you ask her mother, swan lake was never more lovely, and if you ask her teacher, the expression and rhythm were flawless, and if you ask her big brother, the sheet cake with buttercream frosting was outstanding. and there was punch with sherbet. i always tend to think any event which serves punch with sherbet is worth its salt. but that’s just me.

my first teacher was an odd but nice woman who played hymns at church and was an amazing musician. she embellished those songs to within an inch of sin and i’ve yet to see anyone’s fingers move as fast doing anything. she (handily) had a ceramic shop set up in her basement, and mothers would leave for the lure of greenware cats and frogs while students toiled away upstairs, sitting nervously on mrs. c.’s polyester brocade piano bench while fritz, her ancient, choleric, and fully-clawed siamese cat occasionally swatted our ankles from his perch behind the pedals. lesson day was not my favorite day.

my sisters, older and much wiser, enjoyed telling me i should be glad of fritz and the sweaty polyester bench, as they’d had to endure miss kromberg, a crusty german woman of uncertain age, thick accent and definite teaching ability. she was strict and fair and apparently intolerable. it was the early 70’s and simon and and his pal garfunkel were it, so my sisters would beg to play bridge over troubled water as one of their lesson pieces. their story has miss kromberg reaching her paul and art limit one day and shouting out a staccato, “no. more. troubled. bridge!” i love that story.

but even sans miss kromberg i still hated the lessons. for years i would hide my books, try to rig the timer so i didn’t have to practice 30 minutes (later it would become an entire hour!), feign all types of illness - it never worked. my mom had experience, you see, with my “troubled bridge” sisters, and she wouldn’t let me quit.

i endured only one recital in the early years. mine was a much worse fate. my teacher up and left church one day and since i was 12 and had a whiff of training i was chosen to be her replacement. you may think “knees knocking” is simply an expression but i assure you, it really happens. a little fish had been unceremoniously tossed into a large body of water. and there was absolutely no cake in sight.

but i survived, and thrived, and sometimes there’s nothing better for shy and fearful than to be thrust into a spot that makes it impossible to remember those things exist. i’ve been playing for more than 30 years now, first for church, then for choir and band and every other geeky high school ensemble you can imagine, then in college i was a wedding singer. oh yes. the stories i could tell you. and might, someday. i have more lionel richie and dan fogelberg sheet music than anyone else on the planet. i can’t bear to throw it away. you think i’m kidding. i also dabbled in synthesizers and country bands and found places that let me put an empty martini glass on top of the case and play my most favorite songs from one of my most favorite eras.

piano skills may not be the most marketable but they led me to travel, scholarships, lots of interesting people met and great music performed, a good discipline to keep going back to for my own enjoyment. i’d be tickled pink if my girl picked the same trail.

but i’m getting ahead of myself. she’s 7, and we’re only 3 months in. so far things are wonderful, but i’ll let you know if her teacher gets a siamese cat.

good lord these are tasty

not sure what the vanilla pudding is all about.  but i don’t care. the woman who posted this recipe needs a medal and a trip for 2 to the tropical paradise of her choosing.

3 words, people: cream cheese frosting

you’re welcome.

just finished breakfast. scrambled eggs, grits with plenty of butter and pepper, mango-strawberry-orange smoothie, coffee, happy pills.

delicious.

so very tired. we’ve been working on our money pi house every weekend. the main bathroom, specifically. first the floor, then the ceiling (which i mudded and taped to perfection, thanks for inquiring), now the lights and a new exhaust fan much louder than we’d like but more efficient than we hoped. yesterday, under constant threat of rain, husband spent hours in the attic cutting a large hole in our roof for the install. nothing like a little bad weather to keep you on schedule.

good times.

next up is wallpaper. the wallpaper i bought myself for my 39th birthday. the wallpaper that looks far too fancy for my house but makes my soul sing every time i look at it. Soul-Feeding Wallpaper. it doesn’t get much better than that, y’all.

do you wanna see my new paper? do you? well you’ll have to wait until it’s on the wall. but i will tell you it is tangerine. and i am truly, madly, and deeply in love.

and very, very tired.

i was once set up on a blind date with a guy who showed up in those high-waist polyester snap-front shorts favored by high-school coaches in the early 80’s.

i once went on a blind date to a professional football game and stood on the 50 yard line inadvertently dressed head to toe in the opposing team’s colors.

i once went out for dinner and a movie with a guy whose father owned the actual theater chain, and who talked for the duration of the film about the tiny dot in the upper right hand corner denoting a reel change.

i almost went on a date with a a dude who showed up 1.5 hours late clasping a wilty bunch of yellow roses originally intended for his ex-girlfriend. whom he’d spent the last 1.5 hours trying to convince back into a relationship.

once a guy took me to Hardee’s on a date.

once i was on a date and the car literally ran out of gas 2 miles from anywhere and it was 14 degrees and we had to walk through drifts and ask strangers for a ride and it was 14 degrees.

my high school prom date dumped me for my friend, then called 3 years later from a pub in england and apologized for over 2 hours. it was his dime.

i was set up with a guy who got mad when i told him what my dad had named his boat. he was an air traffic controller.

i went out for a while with a dude who wrote a sonnet about my (then) un-pierced ears. he went to brown.

a man took me to dinner once and spent the entire meal talking about his college fraternity days. he was 32.

• • •

and you?

my sweet heapers of birthday wishes, meet winifred:

she arrived yesterday (exact time unknown) weighing in at approximately nothing and looking to be about 5cm long, light brown in color, and the spitting (no pun intended but there you go) image of her mother, Elizabeth (sadly no longer with us; this is a posthumous delivery).

we were SO excited to see that one of our 3 egg cases produced a live mantis. they sat on the top of my eldest’s desk from November until yesterday, when we remembered them and thought it maybe a good idea to put the jar on a sunny deck, just to see what might happen.

i don’t need to tell you good things often come to those who wait. and benignly neglect.

we must disclose that winifred, as small, delicate and innocuous as she may appear, immediately consumed the only sibling to emerge from the sac (named scarlet, as we hope she didn’t give a damn), for mantids are cannibals and even (especially?) in the wilds of a suburban backyard will turn on their own kind for nourishment. hard fact, but necessary for a true understanding of the sometimes dark underbelly of the insect world.

i thank you for your birthday love. and so does winifred, who was blown from this stick within a few hours, hopefully carried by the gust to other friendly blades of grass where she* is now munching on microscopic creatures and preparing for her short but productive lifespan.

*of course, she could be a he, in which case we’ve decided on fred, just to be safe.

happy wednesday.

those pigtails are 39 today

• • •

gimme some love

February 21, 2008

T. B****

Kansas City

• • •

re: Dixon Ticonderoga HB2 Pencil Quality

• • •

Dixon Ticonderoga Company

ATTN: M. W****

• • •

Dear Ms. W****,

We’ve been enjoying your high quality Ticonderoga products for years, but last week I purchased two dozen HB2 pencils from [local school supply] that proved useless. These pencils simply will not sharpen, the leads fall out at random, the cedar splinters quickly, etc. We’ve tried new sharpeners and different techniques without success. Obviously a bad batch slipped through the cracks of quality control, as we’ve never experienced a problem with any Ticonderoga product.

I thought you might appreciate knowing of this issue as soon as possible, and thank you in advance for your prompt response.

Sincerely,

T. B****

• • •

(548)

the last entry was my 300th post.

there was no contest, drawing, or prize of etsy-worthy goods.

i don’t have an etsy.

i can’t think of any contests you’d enjoy.

i never draw.

today was sunny and beautiful.

thanks for asking.

the BSG premier was awesome but not as good as the last ep of season 3 immediately preceding the broadcast.

thanks for asking.

baltar has a harem.

they like christmas lights.

i will not blog about BSG today.

i will not blog about BSG today.

i will not.

i just ate a red velvet cupcake purchased for me by the dinks as an early birthday treat.

a red velvet cupcake is a delightful treat.

cream cheese frosting is so good it hurts.

you know i’m right.

my kids wrote, directed and starred in a little commercial.

we hope you enjoy it.

even spokespeople need to scratch.

i’ll see you tomorrow.

after my first child was born, i realized one of the best things about new motherhood is that sometimes nice people show up at your door, hand over a foil-covered mystery, peek at your beautiful bundle and head back to their car.

that. is awesome.

when our firstborn arrived we were attending a church that was in some confusion about who was actually in charge of sending the perfunctory 2 weeks of meals to new baby mamas.

we got food for a month and a half.

it. was awesome.

not everyone is so lucky. i realize that. and am so sorry if you never got to participate in the post-partum meals on wheels program, and will be there in a flash after you send me an email with your due date. seriously. you’re so worth the drive.

now it almost goes without saying that not every feast was fabulous. there was undercooked chicken and overcooked pork, a hamburger soup we threw away after lifting the lid, and far too many enchiladas. how many enchiladas can 2 people and a newborn eat? seriously, not that many.

but.

i’ll never forget the sweet lady who gifted us with grilled orange roughy, wild rice and cranberry pilaf and triple chocolate cake - all homemade, all fresh and piping hot. we felt like the king and queen of luckyville. oh, and there was the busy mom who bought us take-out Stroud’s fried chicken with all the fixin’s. all you local girls know when i saw That Bag my mouth began to water.

the lasagnas, all made differently, all delicious. the tortilla soup! the apple salad! the beef stew and homemade cinnamon swirl bread!

yeah, i can’t remember anything from last week’s book club but ask me about a meal from 1998 and you’ll get every juicy detail.

all this to say i adore doing what was once done for me; taking a sleep-deprived couple some good eats, maybe a little something from the flower market, perhaps a wee gift tucked among the dishes.

today it’s chicken and noodles with apple crisp for lydia and her mama, tomorrow some potato soup and another apple crisp for sparrow and her parents.

i’m happy to repay the favors.

i never do this. okay, almost never. embed a youtube link? i think not. enjoy them elsewhere, yes, but most of the stuff i watch on youtube is not mama-blog friendly. coach hines? anyone?

but. you know what friday is, don’t you?

::hushed and reverent tone::

it’s the premiere of the last season of the best science fiction show (some would say the best show of any genre) EVAH.

that’s right.

Battlestar, baby.

wait! come back! i know what you’re thinking! you’re thinking: Science Fiction = Ptooey! no no no no a thousand times no. this epic might be set in space, but it is a drama, first and foremost, and a supremely excellent one to boot.

listen to me, do you like The Sopranos? do you like Lost? (i shouldn’t be mentioning Lost in the same sentence as BSG but for the sake of analogy…) do you enjoy Law and Order? are you a fan of Friday Night Lights? Dr. Who? The Office? do you watch television? BSG takes every good drama and and turns it inside out and creates an entirely new genre and then BLOWS YOUR PEA PICKING LITTLE MIND.

and there are cool explosions.

now, you have just enough time to watch the link i’ve so graciously provided below, then run out and rent all the previous seasons, then shave your legs and buy good snacks and adjust the couch cushions and maybe pop in a breath mint and sit down for the Best Thing That Could Happen To Your Television.

me? i’ve somehow scammed my way into the Dinks’ living room and in 3 short days will be enjoying everything with HDTV and mojitos. it’s like christmas and my birthday and Nordstrom’s shoe department with everything on sale in my head right now.

i’ve already watched the previous seasons more times than i will admit here. so distraction is in order. like this star wars funny that has me all giggly like laura roslin before she became the she-devil president who lied about killing hera. i have NO DOUBT she will try and chuck starbuck out an airlock within 10 minutes. you know i’m right.

enjoy. will assume your silent gratitude for the gift i’ve passed on today, but goodies in the post are always appreciated.  like vintage buttons or candy. i’m just sayin’.

happy tuesday (only 3 days left!)

(i promise i won’t talk much about BSG after this raving post. or science fiction. or candy. mostly.)

i present to you

the first short sleeves of my 2008.

REJOICE.

• • •

just finished up some tuna mixed with barbecue sauce (Gates Sweet & Mild for the locals). surprisingly tasty. also a hard boiled egg spotted with mild green tabasco (great stuff). can you say “low carb-ish springtime”? the sweet iced tea, de rigueur for temps above 60, doesn’t count. mostly.

march is going out like a lion for us; my wispy kids are getting blown around the backyard but it does not deter them from affixing the old brown tarp to the splendid splintery fort, then polishing off the light snack (peaches, craisins, crackers, synthetic cheese slices, hard boiled eggs and celery sticks) i hoisted up in a tin pail. they’ve now decorated with several old quilts and a nylon camouflage sleeping bag my father-in-law made in 1970-something, and are presently, according to the 7 year old, sharing Secrets of Great Importance.

good times.

my allergies would have a different opinion, but i rather like this fierce warm southwest wind, blowing the last of dull musty winter business right on out. (as well as the super-sized unraked sycamore leaves from our yard into the neighbor’s, about which i feel pretty guilty. mostly.)

wherever you are, i wish you a monday full of good snacks and fresh starts.

xo

me

so.

how are things?

just finished scrambled eggs with onions and chopped leftover easter ham (what? 6 days old is nothing.), topped with sharp cheddar (not wisconsin cheddar, sadly). toast and coffee on the side. husband made it, because he’s onto the fact i will uncharacteristically leap from bed on a saturday if food is prepared and put on the table by someone other than me. sneaky, but a darn good cook.

and his coffee is always perfect. i know what you’re thinking - coffee? how difficult is that? but mine is inevitably too strong in a drip machine. or too weak. he’s like something from a Seinfeld episode: “the guy who always makes perfect coffee”, who drives George nuts as he attempts to uncover the secret (with Kramer’s help, of course). husband is also “the guy who never fails to order the best thing on the menu which no one has tried before”. he’s a coffee-brewing, meal-ordering savant, that’s what he is. and he’s all mine.

spring is tip-toeing into this corner of the midwest and we’re trying to remain calm, lest it skitter away again. shhhhhhhhhh.

the daffodils are all the way up, the woodpile is nearly decimated, the pool pass renewal that arrived in the mail last friday and filled me with horror is being suitably ignored. i’m out every day prostrate in the front flower beds, knees muddy as i push aside the dead stalks (untrimmed last fall) of perennial grasses, peering in for signs of life.

yep. everything points to a new season. this puts a manic grin on my face. how about you?

• • •

[OMG she's gonna talk about the blog again]

so (for me) taking a break from blogging (”what, she was gone?” I HEARD THAT) can be like falling out of touch with an old and dear friend for a while. the more months (or years) that pass, the more difficult it is to pick up the phone, make plans for getting together to reconnect and gossip about what’s happened in the time apart, share a drink, show off your new haircut and talk about the bad ones in between, brag on the kids and giggle about when you were one. you wonder “will the connection, the affinity still be there? or will we have changed so much that after 10 minutes the awkward will be palpable and too much like a blind date gone horribly wrong?”

so maybe you cross your fingers and call, and talk nervously about how busy life has been, and listen to the other end, and sometimes it’s good and sparkly with chitchat, and sometimes it’s faded away and that’s just fine. like bowie says, pretty soon you’re gonna get older. everything changes.

have been of the mind lately that i’ve fallen out of love with the internets, with the robot habitat; that we’ve been apart for a (not long, but long enough) bit and my posting gusto has gone all shy and dusty. maybe the blog is like a friendship i’ve been too busy to renew, or maybe it’s time to move on. lord knows i’ve got enough projects with the house, the school, the perennial grasses.

but part of me still wants to make the time to chat. about everything and nothing in particular. about my haircuts and my blood sugar and the things my kids draw that blow my mind, the poems nobody likes but me, films and refrigerators, trips and mishaps, hiding under rocks and getting my knees dirty in expectation of sun and green, pondering swimsuits that might fit (probably not - pretty soon you’re gonna get older. and wider), thrift on thursdays, cookies and carnitas, the ever-fantastic flickr.

so we’re getting together, me and the blog, for a chat and maybe some tapas and a drink or two. we’re gonna make the time for each other, and i think everything will be just fine. fingers crossed.

happy weekending.

xo

me

i believe

this tells you all you need to know.

happy tuesday

xo

me

how very much i love you, flickr, how i CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT YOU, flickr, until the day all the new photos of my dear contacts were hidden from me.

must. have. new. photos. from. contacts. daily.

how else will i know who has a new haircut?

or who is sewing her little heart right out?

or who took a trip on a train? in the snow?

who paints dreams?

who found the coolest fabric EVER,

who had potatoes for dinner,

who kisses hippos,

who creates designs this beautiful?

who is busy making the days a little brighter?

who is busy just having fun?

who is made of ham? who else?

who likes the decade of disco?

who is awesome?

who loves you?

which reminds me, if you’re on flickr and comment or just lurk around over here, you should really be on my contact list. get to that right away. please.

’cause if you are one of my flickr friends, you get to share in my thrifty-find joy (and see lots more blurry photos of my blondes):

happy weekending

xoxo

me

i would have thought he was cute back then, too. but i was many miles away, and busily folding all my monogrammed sweaters after polishing the pennies for my loafers.

happy birthday, baby; you’re still younger than me, and you’ve still got the cool.

i’m eating toasted almonds and leftover orzo with parmesan while drinking Coke zero yes i know it’s scary stuff don’t send me any links. it’s 10a.m.

this is what happens when the dishwasher dies:

’tis true, i was unable to work my appliance-whisperer magic on the 20+ year old dishwasher. yes, it really is so old it could have attended my high school reunion last year (like i was gonna go), and i quote the electrician/handyman friend who came over to peer into and under the thing, “wow, i’ve never seen one this old. wow, this thing is ANCIENT. wow, i didn’t know these STILL EXISTED.” heartening, to be sure.

in its defense, the hideous, REALLY LOUD thing works like a charm, still, cause it’s a commercial Hobart, and if you google the model number you’d be shocked (like me) to find that people are snatching up its late 80’s twins like paula abdul her false eyelashes, willingly paying more than the price of a new dishwasher. even though all the parts are discontinued (kicks fabulous old thing in the panel.) so there. and yes, i know more about kitchen appliances than i should.

okay, so two weekends past we went to st. louis and stayed downtown in all our priceline’d splendor (although i’ve yet to be forgiven by the family for landing us a steal without a pool. please don’t mention it when we run into you at costco). we looked at replacement cars (they were crap! don’t mention that either! and if you’re selling a well-treated honda van with lowish miles and live within a 150 mile radius you should email me immediately!) and visited the City Museum, aka The Scariest Place Ever I’ve Ever Been That Exists Solely For Children. i still can’t talk about it.

we also visited the stunning, surreal Arch. can you believe i’m a missouri native and hadn’t seen this thing? no i didn’t go to the top. i’m not insane. there was a wind advisory.

this is what happens when you try to take a family picture at the top of a windy, cold hill and your youngest has a serious grudge going against the paparazzi:

as you can see, i’ve already endured The Museum and might want to go home.

nothing much else going on here. been listening to neil young’s on the beach and bob marley, because when i hear bob marley i can almost feel the sun on my face.

oh oh oh, look what i found in an old book. dude, i am so crazy in love with these weird guys. how should i do them up? mat them big? simple black-around-the-very-outside-edge-only frames? some old distressed fake-gold frames in slightly different sizes with matte glass? i though they might even work with this wall color. i realize it would be a lot going on but you know me: if there’s gonna be color, just go ahead and EMBRACE THE COLOR.

so this is what might happen if you dig to the very, very bottom of the free box:

well hello there.

to those of you under your winter rock: tanning beds are The Answer. just sharing my joy with you, as she shared with me. cause when the choices are melanoma or semi-inebriated crying jags under a down comforter watching sad netflixes while wallowing in valentine caramel wrappers, i think we both know which one will result in the least amount of long-term damage. to the children. and the spouse. and the cat.

to those of you with warm climes and/or cheery temperaments: i have nothing to say, really. i love you, envy you, ask you kindly for cash to defer my tanning expenses (the good beds are not cheap).

and here we go:

• I write this to the background noise of salt trucks barreling up and down my (steep) street…

forecast for the next 3 days: Occasional snow…sleet…patchy freezing drizzle late in the morning…then snow…light sleet likely and patchy freezing drizzle in the afternoon.

(…what’s with all the elipses, weatherman…?)

• i’ve sneaked half a bag of Cheetos® today while the kids were in other parts of the house. o orange fingers of clandestine delectability!

• this still does it for me. just sing what you feel, don’t let anyone say it’s wrong, baby. especially if you sound a lot like dylan doing it.

• Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles is very good. okay, so it’s one of the only shows on with new eps, and who can stomach all those crazy game nightmares passing themselves off as watchable t.v.? but Lena Heady was a perfect spartan wife and she’s a perfect gun-toting butt-kicking vitamin-popping feathered-hair heroine out to save the world. i’m just waiting for the writers to get bored and have too many margaritas at lunch and mess everything up like those idiots who screwed with LOST last year (that’s a lot of time i’ll never get back.  jj abrams we are so OVER). stupid writers.

• daughter had her first piano lesson today. her teacher has 2 shelties who nap under the piano the entire time and a decorative plate obsession. she’s very nice.

• can you believe none of the birds in my yard are eating the pricey black nyjer seed we bought for the feeders? i filled the feeder in my jammies and it was TEN DEGREES. stupid birds.

• my son has FINALLY FINALLY i say again FINALLY memorized all the addition/subtraction facts. potty-training and math-comprehending in the same month.  there’s one for the books, ladies.

• made some deliciously soft gingersnaps earlier, because i heard shortening and sugar are really good for you in winter don’t look at me like that. there’s no shame in using shortening. my mother is from New Orleans. how do you fry your chicken? that’s what i thought.

here’s the recipe:

soft gingerbread cookies

3/4 shortening, or substitute the same amount of butter that’s the consistency of shortening. if you don’t know the consistency of shortening i’m not sure we can still be friends on the internets.

1 egg

1 c. brown sugar

1/4 c. molasses

2 - 2 1/4 c. flour (you might need more, esp. if you use butter that’s too soft, but you hafta eyeball it because this is my neighbor fern’s recipe and she is not exactly exact on the flour amount. basically just past sticky so they’ll chill nicely and roll into balls easily.)

1/2 t. cloves

1/2 t. ginger

1/4 t. salt

1 t cinnamon

2 t. baking soda

beat shortening/butter, sugar, egg and molasses until creamy. sift dry ingredients together, add to first mixture. chill. roll into no larger than 1″ balls, then in white sugar. place on cookie sheet (about 16 will fit on mine) and put one drop of water in the center of each cookie (i dip my finger in a cup of water and drip onto the cookie balls ). bake at 350 for 10 minutes or less. do not overbake, fern says, though you’ll be tempted to.

good with milk, better with a latté, magnificent a day later with sweet iced tea.

• wheatgrass grows freakishly fast. this we planted last friday:

I KNOW.

but doesn’t it make you feel kinda good? look at those freaky, happy little roots. this speedy green goodness is almost as helpful to my winter psyche as a tanning bed. and definitely cheaper.

happy thursday-almost-friday, to all of us.

xoxo

me

the sun?

we have underwear.

you cannot imagine my delight at having the last child out of diapers. or perhaps you can.

celebrating with a half ‘n half-spiked espresso, the best banana bread i’ve ever eaten, and new-to-me mags from Half Price Books. they have the latest issues of Dwell for $1, people, and you get .50/ea when you turn them back in. plus a nice little homeschool/librarian/teacher discount. you can’t beat that with a stick. or perhaps you can.

happy weekending from this (diaperless) household to yours.

xoxo