Martin Eke

My Daily Heart Attack and Other Bits and Pieces

2012-01-25T16:18:00.000-08:00

1. I don't actually have a heart attack every day. Only on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. On those days, Willem rides the bus home. It drops him off across the street from our house anywhere between 12:05 and 12:10.

Now, our neighbor who lives in the house that is Willem's bus stop comes home for lunch almost every day anywhere between 11:55 and 12:05. And he drives a big truck THAT SOUNDS EXACTLY LIKE A SCHOOL BUS. I cannot discern the difference between the two, though I can hear either of them coming from almost a block away.

Every day my heartbeat accelerates when I hear that truck pull up. And not only that one; the neighbor's significant other often comes home for lunch around the same time. And she drives a loud pickup too, albeit one with a slightly more subtle rumble.

So every day I hear them and think I'm late for the bus. One day I really was. I was rinsing a dish at 12:03 and I saw the school bus pull up across the street from my kitchen window. I sprinted out to meet it, not even noticing that I was barefoot until I had retrieved Willem and I had to mince my way back across the wet, gravelly street. It's nice to know that in a pinch that adrenaline really will kick in.

2. Shaun and I were substitute Sunday School teachers, and the lesson we were doing suggested illustrating a point with a game of Mancala. I still own the board I had when I was a kid, so I dug it out of the garage. Inside I found an old to-do list on a tiny yellow Post-It note. Have you ever found a list from your old life? It was a very strange feeling. I knew the list was from California and at least 10 year old. It said:

-Sat. car smogged

-practice song

-Fri. night/card for Deb

The song could only be "Love Makes the World Go Round." I sang it at a fundraising dinner for the La Habra Depot Theater as a favor to the director of a play I'd been in there. I protested, but too faintly, and somehow found myself in a musty community center singing to a bunch of inebriated community theater enthusiasts. I'd say eighty percent of them were talking through my song and the other 20 percent were shushing the talkers. But the director surprised me with a check for $50, which is the only time I've ever been paid to perform. So it was almost worth it.

3. We don't have TV anymore. We've been wanting to get rid of the cable, but in order to actually save any money, we had to get rid of our telephone land line as well. So we did. We still do Netflix streaming and a bit of Hulu. But I now fold the laundry in the quiet instead of watching The Soup or some other guilty pleasure. And it's a good thing. Often a little line for something I'm writing will bubble up, or maybe a Bible verse.

4. Take care when naming your blog. I am TERRIBLE at naming things and I just wanted to get started, so I came up with a name that I have never even explained here because the rationale is so lame. Anyhow, it never occurred to me that I had picked something that could be a person's proper name. Let alone the proper name of a defendant in a rather high-profile trial in the UK. I can always tell when there's a new development because my traffic from across the pond goes from non-existent to barely existent. So...welcome, visitors (not that you've read this far), and I'm sorry I don't have the information you're looking for.

5. Today Nels was in a play at school about Martin Luther King, Jr. He would have liked a bigger part, but he did a bang-up job with the lines he had. During the play, the kids just sat and read their lines, so in these pictures he's purely mugging for me before it starts.

He played a student, so his costume wasn't as exciting as some of the others.

I made sure to take some pictures because I have a feeling it's going to be a day near and dear to his heart in the future. I still remember being a cow in my first school play (it was a Nativity). And I didn't even have any lines, much to my despair.

6. A few weeks ago, Willem came home with this self-portrait from the first week of school. He has a mohawk. And...teeth. And he can hang.

Then after Christmas, he brought home this Santa.

Nice Santa.

I'm just waiting for the school to send home a note.

7. We're going to California for a long weekend tomorrow. And Legoland! We can't wait!

Snow Day

2012-01-18T13:27:00.000-08:00

The boys played out in the snow this morning until they were soaked through, and then came in for hot chocolate with marshmallows.

Nels is already all better today. How can I tell? He is wandering around the house, muttering to himself about the light projector he's building.

What's Up

2012-01-17T21:55:00.000-08:00

How many days into January are we? I fear the year is not off to the most auspicious start.

On New Year's Eve I smashed my little toe into a stool while I was vacuuming to get ready for our festivities. It was the sort of thing where everything goes black for a moment and then you hop around and wish you cursed so you had something satisfying to say and then you were very very afraid to look.

I didn't break it, but I also didn't dare to wear any shoes for a few days.

I waited ten whole days before I injured myself again. This time I grabbed the handle of a stainless steel skillet that had just come out of a 450-degree oven. With my bare hand. Poor Shaun--I made a really horrible noise. Anyhow, it hurt and I cried, but the damage wasn't serious enough to require a doctor visit, so, once again, it could have been a lot worse. Plus I didn't have to do the dishes or cut up anyone's dinner since I couldn't use my right hand.

For the MLK holiday weekend, we planned to take the boys out to Shaun's folks' house. Willem came down with a brand new cold that very morning, but we all figured he'd have more fun being sick there than here, so off he went. And indeed, he did have fun! The boys got lots of snow to play in --the first of the year-- and they were downright overjoyed about it. Nels has been wishing aloud for snow for several months now.

Shaun and I had a crazy movie marathon while the boys were gone. On Sunday we ditched church and went to brunch (lemon ricotta pancakes with passion fruit syrup and Grand Marnier berry compote, anyone?), then came home, built a fire and settled in. We watched The September Issue (thumbs up, if only for its portrait of the fascinating Grace Coddington), The Guard (I wish Brendan Gleeson had won the Golden Globe for his performance), and Babies, which of course made me cry.

When we got the boys back, Willem looked and sounded pretty rough, but probably no worse than he would have if he'd stayed home. I figured some down time was in order, since they'd played out a lot.

I should have suspected something was up when Nels decided to lay down with a blanket while he watched his shows. I'd let the boys watch longer than usual, and as Willem turned off the TV, Nels sat up and started to cry.

"We watched a lot of TV at grandma and grandpa's this morning," he wailed, holding his hands to either side of his head. "We watched a lot of TV already and I SHOULD HAVE TOLD YOU." His face was red and tears streamed down his face. "My head hurts..."

I tried not to laugh. The boy was convinced that he had brought the headache on himself by watching too much TV. I told him he was probably sick and took his temperature. He was sick. Fever, headache, aches and pains.

Willem went to school today still looking like death warmed over, but in good spirits because it was library day. Nels had to stay home and will not be able to go again tomorrow, since he still had a fever tonight.

Hopefully Shaun will be the one holdout who stays healthy for this entire first month of the year. Or if he doesn't, he needs to get it over with before our trip to California at the end of the month.

Incidentally, the dish I was making when I burned myself was the roast chicken with dijon sauce at Smitten Kitchen. You should totally make it. Just maybe keep a potholder handy.

New Year

2012-01-10T14:14:00.000-08:00

I was very grateful to feel almost back to normal by New Year's Eve. And even more grateful when Shaun and Hillary took the boys on another flashlight hike, leaving me time to restore order to the house.

Shaun and I bought each other drapes for Christmas. We love our big windows during the day, but at night it was not very cheerful to gaze out into the black abyss that surrounded us. You can see one set of the drapes in this picture. Shaun spent hours installing the rods and all the little hooks and making sure everything hung just so. His boss seemed alarmed at the company Christmas gathering to hear that Shaun was not planning to buy me a more personal gift in addition to the drapes, but he was wrong. I couldn't be happier. It was just what I wanted.

Here's the living room all festive for the holidays. The giant drapes for this window didn't go up until later.

New Year's Eve was my chance to try this recipe for Chilled Fennel-Grapefruit Veloute with Lemon Olive Oil. I figured no one would be expecting dinner and they might be open to a little bit of something adventurous. Plus it sounded like it would be good with the crab salad Hillary was making. Hillary and I felt right proud of ourselves for having shelled four Dungeness crabs (her treat) the night before. We had a giant delectable pile (1.7 lbs, if you must know) of crab meat at the end.

Whenever I prepare food for friends, I always forget at least one ingredient. Always. So when Hillary forgot to add the olive oil on top of the crab salad, I felt a little better. A little better, that is, until I woke up the next morning and realized I had completely forgotten to even serve my cold soup. The entire batch-and-a-half was sitting untouched in the refrigerator. Honestly, it wasn't that much of a loss because it didn't taste that great, but still. Forgetting an entire dish really takes the cake.

A few days later I dug through the crisper drawer and discovered the radishes and green onions that had also been intended for the crab salad, but it was small consolation.

Even with the absentmindedness there were no complaints about the food, and we had a jolly good time. We seem to have meandered our way into a tradition of having the Morgan family over for New Year's Eve, which is always fun. Their children are just as game for staying up until midnight as ours. And Shaun's winning streak of good vacation ideas did not end; he brought out sparklers that he'd saved from the 4th of July for the kids to wave on the deck as we watched the fireworks at midnight.

I don't presume to predict what the new year will hold, or even have the courage to resolve anything new for it.

Right now I am just thankful for the year that was, and the years that have been, and for the people I have been blessed to share them with.

Vacation!

2012-01-10T14:09:00.000-08:00

I woke up the morning after Christmas with a terrible cold and essentially missed the rest of my mom's stay with us. I slept a lot, though, and got well enough to venture out towards the end of the week.

It was great to have Shaun home for so long. We never get to have him around for so many days in a row, and we all appreciated it. He took the boys on a few "flashlight hikes."

Here are the boys reading their favorite section of their newest magazine. They love to laugh at those stupid criminals together.

Hillary brought us some homemade nocino, an Italian liqueur made from green walnuts. It looked like swamp water (pretty swamp water, if that's possible) but tasted much better, I imagine.

Shaun was on a roll with fun activity ideas; he suggested ice skating at the Lloyd Center, so ice skating (the first time for the kids) we went. I was cursing my wool sweater. Ice skating in a mall is hot. Also I was still pretty under the weather.

Willem here was crazy strong, and able to keep himself up by using his arms. Nels, on the other hand, was just too gangly. I wish we had gotten video of him on the ice. It appeared as though his body was held together by rubber bands. It was like what I imagine Dick Van Dyke would do in a comedic dance performance commanded by the Queen of England to atone for his Cockney accent in Mary Poppins upon pain of death if it weren't funny or crazy enough. It was spectacular.

Afterwards we decamped to Clyde Common for reasonably-priced happy hour food and drink. Willem plopped down in his chair, took a deep breath, and said, "I love this place. It smells delicious." Illness, skating, hunger, and a cocktail had me a little loopy. I have no idea what I thought was so hilarious on my phone in the picture below, or what I'm doing with my right hand. Our hamburgers were cooked to perfection and Hillary declared the Old-Fashioned (her signature drink) to be mighty good.

On Friday we ventured out to Shaun's folks' house and stopped in at Olympic Provisions for lunch on the way. I was very happy to finally eat there, even though my cold impeded my ability to taste things.

My parsnip-apple soup was to die for.

As was Hillary's polenta with Italian sausage.

I don't think I cooked a thing between Christmas and New Year's Eve. I honestly don't remember. Between eating out we enjoyed leftovers and an abundance of cardamom rolls, Christmas cookies, fruit-nut bread and brown rice bread courtesy of the moms in my life. It wasn't a low-carb vacation, but it sure was a delicious one.

And So That Was Christmas

2012-01-09T10:19:00.001-08:00

At church on Christmas morning, the boys didn't even bug us about hurrying home to open presents. I was amazed.

After the mad rush of opening, the boys settled into peacefully playing with their new toys.

Nels is always happy to get a new Lego set, no matter how many thousands of Lego pieces he may already have.

We bought Willem a white board because we could no longer afford to keep him in paper.

New Calvin and Hobbes! Willem spends most of his waking hours either drawing or reading, and Christmas was no exception.

The runaway hit this year was the remote-control helicopter. Nels had asked for it for his birthday, and Auntie Kim and Uncle Cory bought it for him then, but he ended up getting so many things on his list that Shaun and I tucked it away for Christmas. I think it was Nels's and Shaun's favorite present. And Shaun's dad liked it so much that he's getting one for himself.

Watching Nels so absorbed with his helicopter and seeing Willem all cozy in his new skull-and-crossbones pajama pants snuggled up with a book on the couch gave me a nice warm feeling in my heart. I am surprised at how much joy I find in buying or suggesting gifts for them that I know they will use and like. True, one can get carried away with the presents. But I think enjoying giving good gifts to our children is one of the ways in which we reflect being made in the image of God.

Hillary picked out this book for Nels, but it ended up resonating most with Willem. This was a good Christmas for that; the boys were not jealous or territorial about their gifts. After reading through it once, Willem read it aloud to us. I got a little teary-eyed with pride when he read the words "Good gracious, Ignacious!" with verve and without stumbling a bit.

Somehow we are without pictures of the Christmas food. Of course I thought long and hard about the menu. I was really in the mood for lamb, but I didn't think that would be a very popular choice. Then I thought duck, but it would have been too hard to prepare multiples. Goose would have been fun, but one goose would have been a bit on the small side and they were charging an arm and a leg for them at our local market. Then I found rib roast for $4.99/lb and a well-reviewed recipe at epicurious, and we were in business. I very rarely cook a large hunk of beef (not because I don't like it, but because it intimidates me), so it seemed celebratory enough.

I had been hoarding this recipe for Chestnut Soup with Grappa Cream since last year, and I decided that Christmas was the perfect occasion to make it. The smell of butter, pancetta, shallots and celery root sauteing together was one of the best things I have ever smelled in my life. Then I added the mushrooms, Cognac, fresh bay, thyme, and sage, and that smelled pretty good too. The recipe warns (correctly) that the soup is very rich, so it made a perfect starter divided up among all of us. Best of all, not only did Nels and Willem clean their bowls, but Nels had seconds. It was a Christmas miracle.

Along with our roast we had some lumpy mashed potatoes (I am lazy and I don't mind the texture and I am the cook) and a salad with orange and fennel and pistachios in an attempt to brighten up all the heavy food. But my favorite dish of the night, and maybe my new favorite vegetable dish of all time, was the Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Capers, Walnuts, and Anchovies. Growing up, I only knew about anchovies as the bad punchline of pizza jokes on sitcoms. But at one point in my adult life Hillary made me a pasta with anchovies, which I loved, and I learned enough about cooking to understand how they could be a magical secret ingredient. Now I'm not sure how I've lived without the magic of anchovies melted into olive oil with minced garlic. If you do like brussels sprouts even the tiniest bit, don't be afraid. Try this recipe.

In a departure for me, I didn't even think about making a dessert. Shaun's mom brought a panoply of Christmas cookies and my mom brought my very favorite fudge (at my request) and we still had some of the amazing soft peanut brittle that I'd made earlier, so we were set for sugar.

I had lots of help cooking and cleaning and entertaining the boys. Still, by the time we turned in, I was not unlike my new Santa friend here:

somewhat bedraggled, but still of good cheer.

Holly Jolly

2012-01-04T11:13:00.000-08:00

The boys were off school the week before Christmas and they were grumpy and out of sorts, so I was glad to send them to their grandma and grandpa's for a few nights. I took advantage of the alone time to do the kind of cleaning I never seem to get too, like sweeping the cobwebs from the ceiling and dusting the bookshelves. The craggy wood-paneled walls downstairs clung stubbornly to their webs, so I had to vacuum them with a brush. We make our overnight guests sleep down there, so I wanted it to be more "cozy family room" and less "haunted mansion."

I also wrapped all the gifts. This never happens. I would have felt virtuous but for the way I went about it. I stayed up late watching TV and "wrapping," and because I like to watch Masterpiece Mystery I couldn't really understand what the actors were saying while I was wrapping, so the whole thing took at least five times as long as it would have otherwise. So I went into the holidays with the wrapping done but sleep deprived, which turned around and bit me later. I deserved it.

We got the boys back all strung out from their time at the tree farm, but it was worth it. My mom came from Bend on Friday and provided much-welcome company, and then Shaun came home from work for an entire glorious week. My sister Hillary flew in from LA on the morning of Christmas Eve, and she spent the whole week with us too!

Shaun cut some branches from the holly tree in our back yard and decked the halls (by which I mean our tables) with it. It looked ridiculously fake, it was so perfect. And it looked fresh as the day it was cut for almost two weeks. Fa la la la la la la la la!

Look how peaceful, everyone paired up and relaxing after our Christmas Eve soup. They are waiting patiently for...

Spanish Cream, the traditional Christmas Eve dessert of Shaun's family, which I made this year for the first time. It was a small concession to the fact that I was not willing to open presents on Christmas Eve, another of Shaun's family traditions.

I don't remember ever believing in Santa as a kid, but that didn't make it any less thrilling to wake up on Christmas morning to bulging stockings and a giant pile of presents under the tree. Hillary and I realized this year that the enormity of that childhood pile had much to do with the number of kids in our family.

On Christmas morning we let the boys open their stockings and then we all went to church. I was a little surprised that our pastor spent a moment on some passionate (for him) anti-Santa remarks. I guess it's bad if your kids believe in Santa instead of Jesus, but I am one of those people for whom stories and myths point the way to Truth rather than obscure or replace it.

But we're all different. I didn't insist upon Santa for Nels because by the time he had heard of Santa Claus, he was already a very deep thinker and actively engaged in formulating his world view. If I had said Santa was real he would have extrapolated the existence of other magical beings from there and I would have had a dickens of a time explaining why he needn't worry about mischievous leprechauns (he was concerned enough about them enough as it was.)

Willem, on the other hand, would have done just fine with Santa, but I didn't have the mental energy to instill the belief after we'd declined to do so for Nels. Therefore he spent the week before winter break scowling and grousing about all his classmates who do believe. It was the Grinchiest thing I've ever seen. I think deep down he was a little sad about not being among the Santa-believers.

Our Christmas morning church service featured a little pageant, with the kids reenacting the story as a narrator read it from the Bible. Here's a photo I took at rehearsal that ended up being the cover of the bulletin.

And here's the real deal on Sunday morning. These shepherds really took to heart the adage that "there are no small parts, only small actors."

Willem was a shepherd and Nels a wise man. I think the whole thing was designed to make everyone feel a warm Christmas glow, but it just didn't do it for me. We go to a non-denominational church and one could never find a truer-hearted bunch, but it is a constant struggle for me to appreciate the lack of any tradition or formality in the worship service. Some people grow up in liturgical churches and rebel against what they perceive as empty rituals. I, on the other hand, pine for the sense of reverence that the liturgy and music of the Presbyterian church I grew up in imbued each service with, especially at the holidays.

I think the moment that best embodied Christmas for me this year came at the "pageant" rehearsal. The mother of the main characters had forgotten about the rehearsal, so her kids showed up late and unnoticed by Willem. We ran through the whole thing for a second time, and when Willem got to the manger, he looked at Mary and saw her holding her own infant brother. His jaw dropped, just like a cartoon, and he pointed.

"That's crazy! That's a real baby!"

And I thought what better thing to do at Christmas, or any time, than to marvel and gape and point to the baby Jesus?

Well , now I've gone on. More Christmas in the next post.

Guess Who Was REALLY Glad to Go Back to School Today?

2012-01-04T10:32:00.000-08:00

That's Wise MAN, Nels...

2011-12-23T13:06:00.000-08:00

Not wise guy.

We had to have a little talk after Christmas pageant rehearsal about not upstaging the baby Jesus.

Hobbies

2011-12-07T11:00:00.001-08:00

Each boy spent his last day of Thanksgiving break working on a project. Here's what they do in their free time:

Classy

2011-12-05T13:48:00.000-08:00

When Nels started Kindergarten, I was surprised to find that a lot of feelings about my own school experience bubbled up.

I was all but guaranteed to have mixed emotions about school, thanks to some seriously conflicting personality traits. I expected myself to get good grades, but by the 6th grade I was already an inveterate procrastinator. I was a goody-goody who followed rules with an almost superstitious rigor, yet I often resented the authority of my teachers.

Socially, I'm sure I had some fine years when I was younger, but what I mostly remember is feeling anxious about how and where I fit in. I wanted to be cool and knew I wasn't. I didn't know who I was well enough to feel good about myself.

None of that is terribly bad or unusual, and I certainly had some wonderful experiences and friends throughout my education. But my overall assessment of my school years could be summed up in the immortal words of Facebook: It's complicated.

That must have been part of why I was dreading volunteering in my kids' classrooms. And once Willem started Kindergarten, I no longer had an excuse not to do it. Baby steps, I told myself, and committed to one morning a month in each boy's classroom.

Like so many other things I waste energy fretting over, it has turned out to be completely worthwhile, and quite a revelation. I can't believe the breakneck speed at which the Kindergarten class has to move to get through their material in less than three hours. I enjoy watching Willem's teacher lovingly put the hammer down on her squirrelly pupils. And how else would I get to know Sophie, who provides Willem's primary motivation for going to school every day by chasing him around the playground?

Or Bianca:

"Promise you won't laugh, mom..."

"I won't laugh."

"There's a girl at school who wants to...do something to me."

"Marry you?"

Miserable nod.

The first time I helped in Nels's class, I arrived just as recess ended. As the students lined up to go into their classrooms (all four 2nd grade rooms open onto a common area), the kids noticed me hanging around. And all these little boys, classmates of Nels's from years past, or just from around the neighborhood, said hi and smiled and waved to me. Even though I haven't spent much time with any of these boys, I know that one of them lost his very elderly father last year. One boy is being raised by his young, unmarried aunt because his mother is unfit. One boy's mom is in jail.

And somehow it made me hopeful for them, that even though these kids had been through tough things, and though they hardly knew me, they were eager and happy to greet me. I was Nels's mom, and I was welcome. It was so freeing to be at school in that role and not worried about all the things I used to worry about when I was in school.

The next time I helped in Nels's class, his best friend walked over to me and gave me one of those awkward, triangle-shaped, stiff-armed, pat-on-the back hugs. I treasure this time in life when my boys and their friends are proud to own me. I don't imagine it will always be so.

My favorite in-class assignment to date has been manning the cranberry sauce station at Willem's "Native American Celebration." Approximately 45 Kindergartners came through and dropped 20 cranberries at a time into an electric pot. My job was to periodically add water and sugar, stir, and to prevent any students from being injured by the hot pan or the exploding cranberries. I was just thankful not to have macaroni necklace duty.

The most entertaining part of the event was the trading time: each student brought 7-9 little unwanted items from home, and then both morning Kindergarten classes were turned loose in one room to exchange their junk.

Two of the other moms helping out were originally from South Africa and Romania, which elevated "getting-to-know-you" small talk to pretty darn interesting.

Here is Willem at the Thanksgiving program performance, where the Kindergartners reprised their outfits. He was particularly proud of the star and diamond pattern he made on his headband.

It is a real luxury to be at home and available to participate in school-day activities. I plan to enjoy it until the day my kids beg me to stay away. And maybe even after.

To Idaho and Back Again

2011-11-28T17:43:00.000-08:00

When my friend Amanda mentioned that she would be staying at the Ezra Pound House in the Sun Valley area to work on a video project, I was jealous. We had some big adventures there last year. When Amanda suggested that I fly out to Boise and join her on the trip, I dismissed the idea as too expensive and impractical. But then I found an airfare cheap enough that generous birthday gifts from my family would just cover it, and Shaun agreed to take a Friday off work to be with the boys. So after much dithering and hand-wringing about doing something so fun without the rest of my family, I found myself getting up at 4am to catch a 6:30 flight to Boise.

There are times when everything that can go wrong does, but this trip was the opposite of that. I didn't even have anyone sitting in the seat next to me on the plane, a luxury I appreciated even more when we hit several patches of turbulence and I held onto my armrests with a white-knuckled death grip. I don't enjoy bumpy plane rides the way I used to when I was a kid.

We had beautiful weather for our drive.

We stopped along the road at one point so Amanda could get some video of the crazy sparkle landscape. We put the hazards on so we'd be more visible. Two kind-hearted souls stopped to make sure we were OK. I hope we didn't induce any pangs of conscience in all the other folks who drove on by.

It was supposed to snow all weekend, but it didn't. Here's the view from the living-room window of our place.

Here's Ketchum...

where I found this vintage wool rug at the thrift store. According to the tag, it was imported via New York from Poland. We had spectacular success at the thrift stores in Hailey and Ketchum and acquired an embarrassment of affordable riches.

We gathered our strength here, at Grumpy's. I'd give you the link to the website, but they don't have one. They don't even have a phone.

They do have good hamburgers. And $5 32-oz. schooners of beer at happy hour, which it just happened to be when we arrived. I didn't finish it, if you were wondering.

We shopped, we ate, we read, we drank tea, we watched The Bourne Supremacy on cable while Amanda made a necklace, and of course we worked on our various projects (I brought along an essay I've been working on sporadically since the summer.) It was the best birthday present ever.

Shaun told me to shop for a house while we were there, but I didn't get to that.

I thought nothing could be more beautiful than the drive there, but I was wrong.

The drive back was.

Our Philosopher

2011-11-21T18:36:00.000-08:00

"I hate everything," says Willem.

"You can't hate everything," Nels tells him. "Because then you would hate hating everything."

I Had a Birthday Too

2011-11-16T23:08:00.000-08:00

It was a while ago now, on November 1st. In discussing my birthday plans with Shaun I was acting princessy, grouchy that the day wouldn't feel extra special because we weren't going out to dinner to celebrate until some time later. By the actual day, I was thoroughly ashamed of my selfish attitude and lack of perspective. I realized that every day of my everyday life is so stinking good that it's pretty hard to make one day stand out even more. But still, Shaun managed it.

Shaun's folks joined us for dinner. Linda brought bulbs as part of my gift, and braved the mud and drizzle to plant them. She is hardy and kind. Then she hung the packages on the tree to festive effect. Some naughty critters must have come in the night and dug up the snowdrop bulbs, because the next morning I found them all on the ground resting neatly next to the holes they'd been planted in. I guess the bulbs smelled better than they tasted. I re-buried them all and they've been left alone since.

Here's where Shaun working in the same building as Olympic Provisions comes in handy. He brought home charcuterie and cheese plates and mixed me a martini and I was the happiest princess in all the land. Here's what's on the plates: very spicy pickled vegetables, a salcichon salami with paprika, clove, cinnamon, and nutmeg (it tasted like Thanksgiving in a sausage), sopressata with oregano, garlic and chili flake, pork liver mousse, pork and pistachio terrine, and, our favorite, pork rillete. The cheeses are Mt. Townsend Creamery Seastack, Casatica di Bufala, Cypress Grove Midnight Moon, Idiazabal, and Valdeon blue. Ridiculous, I know.

I could have made a dinner just of that, but we also had BLT's jazzed up with a spicy remoulade. Linda brought corn from her garden, but I was so distracted by all my treats that I forgot to serve it.

I chose simple BLT's for dinner (which Shaun fixed) so we could spend all our energy on the dessert I'd been planning for months. I first saw the Swedish pre-Lenten pastries called semla or semlor on this blog, and the pictures were so beautiful that I'd been dying to try it ever since. Happily I found a recipe.

We made it a team project...I baked the yeasted cardamom buns while Shaun was at work, and when he got home he did the laborious work of scooping out the insides, mixing the milk-soaked crumbs with marzipan, refilling the buns, and topping them with whipped cream.

O happy birthday. I cannot believe that I am 39.

I went to bed counting my blessings, with more birthday fun to look forward to. Shaun and I waited until the boys had a weekend with the grandmartins and then used a Groupon-type deal for a dinner at Gracie's at the Hotel de Luxe in downtown Portland. The food gets mixed reviews, mostly good, but it is a romantic spot. Also, the restaurant serves drinks from the hotel bar, the rightly renowned Driftwood Room. And it was a really screaming deal.

Here I am, dark and blurry, about to tuck into the best steak I have had in at least five years. Maybe ten. It was everything I want a steak to be.

We had fun wining and dining. Shaun felt compassion for our waiter because he was waiting tables rather than being a movie star. He looked like a cross between Clive Owen and Jon Hamm. He was even named Kai, which I think would do nicely for a movie star these days.

We tried a lot of cocktails with ingredients that were unfamiliar to us. I started with an Old Tom, which had Ransom gin, agwa, Krogstad aquavit, fresh lime juice and barrel-aged bitters, served on the rocks. It was subtle and balanced and unlike any drink I'd had before. Shaun and I both gave it a thumbs up. I also had a drink with pine liquor and a rosemary sprig, and Shaun had a variation on a Sazerac that was very nicely done.

It was slow and almost empty in the restaurant: the mayor's deadline for OWS Portland to clear out of the parks happened to be that night, and the hostess told us that a lot of folks had gotten nervous and canceled their reservations. So the bartender had plenty of time on his hands, and after we'd ordered several of the more adventurous cocktails, he wandered in to chat with us and see how we were enjoying our drinks.

Later he brought us a complimentary dessert-y cocktail. It wasn't something we'd ever order, but a free drink is a gesture that never fails to give me a happy glow.

The aftermath isn't pretty, but the evening was.

Halloween

2011-11-14T17:03:00.000-08:00

Shaun's co-worker brought his pet spider into the office on Halloween, which was of course documented and shown to our little arachnophile, Willem. And that's why Willem's stuffed tarantula just doesn't cut it anymore.

The boys love to carve pumpkins. They can mostly do it themselves now, thanks to those little pumpkin-carving kits they sell everywhere. Did they have those when we were kids? I seem to remember that we used big knives from the kitchen, and that the very real dread of severing a digit (pumpkin guts are so slippery) added a macabre note to the otherwise festive carving proceedings.

The pumpkins came from Grandma's garden. We didn't get enough sun this fall for them to get good and orange, but the boys didn't care at all. I don't know if I've ever seen a pumpkin with flesh as thick as the one Nels has here.

Being obsessed with all things Halloween, Willem had drawn up a sketch of his jack o'lantern's face well ahead of time.

Pretty impressive execution of his concept, I'd say. He realized pretty quickly he'd have to forego the bloodshot eyes.

Trick-or-treating was a lot more fun this year than it has been in the past. It wasn't raining and it wasn't freezing, and the boys have acquired enough social graces to manage a "trick or treat" and then a "thank you" without too much prompting. Best of all, they then turn to go. This is a vast improvement over last year, when, after getting their candy, they would just stand agog and stare into the stranger's home like they were wishing to be adopted.

This was the first year I really felt like we were in "our" neighborhood. We've been here long enough that it doesn't seem like we're just passing through, and it was fun to recognize neighbors and schoolmates of the boys. People really did things up for Halloween, but everything was warm and welcoming rather than evil and creepy. I couldn't believe how many fun, creative carved pumpkins we saw. This one was a favorite:

And here are ours.

I should have put our bowl of candy out on the porch, because we only got two trick-or-treaters while we were home. I bought less than I have in years past, but with what the boys gathered (some people were giving out full-size candy bars) we have enough to keep us in sugar until next year. Anybody want a Butterfinger?

Banking

2011-11-07T10:28:00.000-08:00

I never go to the bank anymore. Anyone who's ever written me a check knows it can take me a long time to deposit it. (Which is rude, I know. I mean to improve.) We've had our paychecks directly deposited since I was working, which is a long time ago. And when we lived in Germany and had to keep paying our bills back in the US, we discovered the joys of automatic bill pay and never looked back.

Of course when I do have a check to deposit, I make use of the ATM. Which is what I was doing last Friday, only to discover that my debit card had expired the week before. Fortunately for me, the strip mall with the closest ATM also happens to house a branch of my bank. It's a humble little branch in an even humbler strip mall whose anchor store is a Grocery Outlet. There's also a McDonald's, a Dollar Store, a DMV licensing office, and a medical clinic. Across the street is a giant feed store and several "restaurants" with no windows. It's not the most cheery part of town, but it certainly serves its purpose.

I pulled away from the drive-through ATM and told the boys we would have to go into the bank. We walked in to a tiny unremarkable institutional space. There were no marble surfaces and nothing gleamed. There were some beige cubicles and a counter, and that was about it.

"I've never been in a bank before," said Willem, looking around with wonder. "It makes me feel like I'm in a movie."

We obviously need to get out more.

Six

2011-11-02T17:10:00.001-07:00

On the morning of his sixth birthday, Willem said "I wish for a pet tarantula," and blew out the candle on his doughnut. Then he opened his present.

While Willem was completely in love with his new friend at first, he has become increasingly discontent with the fact that the spider is not real. He's taken to moping around the house and sighing, "I'll never get a real spider for a pet." Being thus reminded (by himself) that his will has been thwarted, Willem adopts a mood I like to call "Belligerent Eeyore." Belligerent Eeyore is a very trying mood.

Once we had the house all decorated and the Happy Birthday sign up on the party day, Willem told his brother to sit by the fireplace for a picture. Then he disappeared down the stairs for five minutes. When he returned, he seated himself at the other end of the fireplace. And held up the word bubble he'd just made. Quite the director.

Willem picked out a craft for his monster-themed party: the boys made little monster hand puppets from kits. It was pretty awesome, but it would have been even better if it had taken them more than 10 minutes to finish. And if we had planned some games. It was basically 10 minutes of calm followed by 1 hour and 50 minutes of mayhem.

This is Willem's best buddy from pre-school last year. I love his "more is more" approach. He basically piled every sticker he could get his hands on onto that sucker.

"Everybody take one step back. Everybody take one step back. Everybody take one step back." That was the mantra of the gift-opening time. Any closer and Willem would have been in the fireplace. Here he's just opened one of his favorite books, Ghostopolis. I blame his word-bubble preoccupation on an early introduction to graphic novels.

I love that the boys raided the costume bin in Willem's room and wore various guises throughout the party. Here they are oohing and aahing over glow-in-the-dark eyeballs from Grandpa Scott and Grandma Juli.

And one of Willem's two favorite gifts, glow-in-the-dark fangs.

We had fun drawing monster faces on all the balloons, which you really can't see. You can, however, read Willem's word bubble on the balloon in the foreground. Give me cake.

The cake was obviously Shaun's doing. He went off-theme (but equally beloved) with a spider.

There was one other favorite present, but I'm having technical difficulties with the video of it. (If you're my friend on Facebook, you saw it.) I'll put that up in another post if I can get it figured out.

I am super glad to have the birthday parties behind us, but it was fun to celebrate our birthday boy.

Our one-of-a kind.

Eight

2011-10-19T12:02:00.000-07:00

Nels turned eight last month. Shaun had deemed eight to be the official pocketknife birthday, and the knife was the one present Nels opened on his actual birthday. What has he done with his knife so far? Well, he has used it to whittle several other knives out of pieces of wood.

For dinner we went to our local fancy pizza joint. The joint is not fancy, but the pizza is. And delicious. I am including this dark, blurry picture because in it I can totally see that Nels is related to me. Very few such pictures exist.

In this one he just looks very handsome.

I dread the coming of the boys' birthdays every year. Birthday party planning is one of many parenting skills that I suffer a dearth of. Nels wanted a robot-themed party, so I ordered some robot "piggy" banks from Oriental Trading Company. I thought the boys could paint them as an activity and then take them home as party favors, killing two birds with one stone.

I wasn't sure how that would go over with a bunch of active boys, so it was a huge relief when they all sat down and got absorbed in the project. It was hilarious to sit in the next room and listen to their conversation as they worked. First they discussed their relatives who had served in the military in various wars (uncles, grandpas, etc.), and then they moved on to trying to one-up each other in the sharing of obscure and gross biological facts: Some snakes have babies that come right out of their stomachs!

Yep. Definitely made of puppy-dogs' tails.

A Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots game was the hit of the party.

In the middle of opening his presents, Nels remembered that he had a gift for Willem. He'd gone to his friend's birthday party at an arcade/bowling alley the day before, and he'd used half of his prize tickets to buy Willem these teeth. Yes, glow-in-the-dark fangs did happen to be on Willem's birthday wish list.

Here's why Shaun makes the cake and I don't:

A thousand years from now, kids will still be licking the frosting off the birthday candles.

Once we got the kids all hopped up on cake and ice cream, it was inevitable that a heated Rock 'Em Sock 'Em tournament would break out.

We wrapped up the festivities with Nels's requested dinner, chicken wings. The recipe calls for a rosemary-garlic-balsamic vinegar marinade, which is considerably more sophisticated than the dinner Willem wants for his birthday this week: sloppy joes.

More sophisticated, perhaps, but just as messy.

I am thankful for eight sweet years so far with our sweet boy.

Luckiest Almost 6-Year-Old Boy Ever

2011-10-13T11:48:00.000-07:00

You'd better believe he wore short sleeves to show off these bad boys to his fellow Kindergartners.

You Could Say That

2011-09-29T16:23:00.001-07:00

The boys have been anxiously awaiting the arrival of some rubber band guns that were ordered for Nels's birthday. The company accidentally sent them to a different Shaun Martin, so the guns didn't make it in time for the party last weekend.

Well, today the package arrived. We waited until Nels got home from school, and then the boys crowded around me in the kitchen as I opened up the box.

"THE GOODNESS IS HERE," intoned Willem. "THE FLASH BEAM OF LOVE IS COME."

Settling In to School

2011-09-27T16:15:00.001-07:00

Willem was a little anxious about starting Kindergarten, but now he cheers when he asks me if it's a school day and I say yes. I think he was worried about liking his teacher. But, in his words, "I got used to her right away."

The biggest impediment to Willem's happiness at school seems to be girls. "Mom, today was horrible," he told me one afternoon when I went to pick him up. His head was down and he dragged his feet as we walked.

"What happened?" I asked.

"We added up how many girls and how many boys in the class. And the girls won. They were laughing and smiling over at me. It was horrible."

He was thoroughly disgusted with those awful girls.

Here's a picture of the principal chatting with the boys at the Birthday Table. Once a month, the PTA decorates a big table and all the kids who have a birthday that month eat there and get ice cream afterwards (if their parents have signed a permission slip first.) Each child has his picture taken with the principal and hung on a bulletin board.

This year they invited the parents as well, so Willem and I joined Nels for lunch. It was my first experience in the school cafeteria at lunch time. Talk about sensory overload. I didn't have the nerve to ask Mr. Parman what was going on with his hair.

They're really big on positive reinforcement at the school, so Nels already has a big pile of certificates that tell him he's doing a stellar job, and Willem got to sign the Baller Success Book for adding a word bubble that said "YOU CANT CACH ME" to his drawing of a gingerbread man, all on his own. At one point the two boys almost came to blows arguing over who was going to be the first to tell me about the praise he got from his teacher for his good behavior. Ah, sweet irony.

I'm proud of how they're doing, but there's plenty of humility mixed in with that. Nels came home last week with an in-class assignment in which they were supposed to "stretch" a sentence with added details. Here's the sentence:

We can have one.

Here are the details that Nels added in response to the prompts:

Who? Willem.

What? A spanking.

Why? Because he hit me.

Where? At home.

The next step was to rewrite the sentence with all of the changes, but Nels didn't make it that far. Which is just as well. The fragments were bad enough without seeing "Willem can have a spanking because he hit me at home," all spelled out in its entirety. I'm really looking forward to that first parent-teacher conference.

Blog Field Trip

2011-09-26T16:40:00.001-07:00

Shaun's cousin Jared and his wife Amy (and their daughter Sunita and Jared's mom Marsha) are wrapping up a long-anticipated trip to China to bring home their adopted son Titus.

Today I'm suggesting that you visit Amy's blog and read all about their experience there. Every bit is moving and fascinating (for instance, striking little Sunita, adopted from India, is mobbed like a celebrity wherever they go), but do be sure not to miss Amy's reflections on the first night they are all together and her thoughts upon visiting the place where Titus was found when he was two months old. Have a tissue handy.

I know that my tendency is to try not to think about the misery that children the world over face, because it is so horrible and I can't fix it. It's easier to look away. But Jesus didn't do that. He came to be with us in this messy place. I am humbled and blessed (a word I don't use often or lightly) to watch Jared and Amy follow his example.

Starting School

2011-09-21T11:30:00.000-07:00

We are into our third week of school, with Willem in Kindergarten and Nels in second grade. Willem picked out his first-day-of-school outfit from his very small stash of new clothes. He has worn it every first day of every week so far. He'd wear it more, but I don't do the laundry that often. "Mom, did you wash my spider shirt?" will be the regular refrain of the 2011/2012 school year.

It feels HUGE to have both boys in the same school. It's a milestone I never thought would arrive. I didn't think I'd get teary-eyed on the first day, though, and that's because I was just thinking of it as the start of something new. What I'd forgotten is that the first day of Kindergarten is really more like a graduation. And graduations always make me cry.

I cried because we've made it through so much together to get to the point where I can wave and confidently send those boys off to be in the care of others for the day. (Or half-day, as the case may be.)

I thought of the surgeries and illnesses we've weathered (five surgeries and one case of viral meningitis among us.) I remembered my ultimately unsuccessful struggle to breastfeed both boys when they were babies, and all of the worry that caused me. I remember being lonely and sleepless and feeling like that time in our lives would never come to an end.

And yet here we are! It ended! We did it, little family. We raised up two boys this far, two boys who are happy and ready to step out. I couldn't be prouder of them. Happy graduation to us.

Summer Outtakes

2011-09-05T22:10:00.001-07:00

School finally started this week. Here are a few last pictures from our summer before we leave it behind for good.

Reading a magazine from Auntie Nancy.

Stir-crazy happens.

Brownie batter.

Water gun fight, then popsicles with friend Charlie.

This is the Sunday Willem wore all of his silly bands and his pirate ring to church and told everyone he would like to be called Spike.

At the Magee's farm for the Shay family reunion. Shay is Shaun's grandma's maiden name and also my mom's maiden name. Fingers crossed that we're not too closely related.

One of the reunion-goers showed us the amazing guns he makes out of wood. All the pieces are there and they come apart like a real gun. Most of them are life-sized, but not this bad boy. They really are beautiful.

Disconsolate kitty.

Family bike ride.

I guess summer is not officially over yet, but I think we can say good-bye now. It was a good one.

A Friendly Visit

2011-09-05T21:55:00.001-07:00

Our friends the Hamiltons came for a visit in August. Here are some pictures from their stay.

Willem wasn't getting enough attention, so he fashioned himself some alien antennae. I like how they look like fried eggs.

We were going to see a fancy car exhibit at the Portland Art Museum, but there were so many cool cars parked outside as part of the show that we just checked those out for free. We are cheap.

We went to a bike shop in Portland that carries hard-to-find Pilen bicycles like the one Amanda won so she could check out a child-carrier seat to go with it. They had all sorts of crazy bicycle carts there. Here's one loaded with cute cargo.

We went grocery shopping.

At home, Willem read to Esly.

They're buddies.

Apparently, this is how our kids responded when we were downtown visiting Shaun's new work building and Andrew said he wanted to get a picture. God bless 'em.

Vernonia's 55th Friendship Jamboree

2011-09-05T18:03:00.000-07:00

According to The Independent, "The Vernonia Friendship Jamboree was started 55 years ago as a way for people to get together and reconnect after so many people left to find work elsewhere when the mill was closed for good."

Events this year included a parade, a car show, lots of live music, a horse gaming show, a logging show, and a kids' fishing derby. Shaun's Aunt Nancy was out for a visit, and while we couldn't make an entire weekend of it, we did get to the parade with Shaun's family.

There were lots of nice old cars. Somehow it's more special to see a restored classic when it's obvious its owner didn't have unlimited amounts of money to pour into it.

Lots of restored tractors too. This fellow is driving a 1944 John Deere. Sadly, our boys have outgrown their tractor obsession.

This boy's sign says, "I captured my pride in Vernonia." His entire family is following behind him, tied up and wearing animal costumes. It was a little confusing. It also inspired Nels to add "mini 4-wheeler" to his birthday wish list.

Fancy.

This clown is a hot mess.

This "float" stopped periodically so they could do a little demo and run the saws.

Monster trucks are loud.

I'm going to go out on a limb and say this guy had the most ill-conceived costume of the day.

I mean, seriously.

Do note those HUGE logs on the truck driving away. The crowd was duly appreciative.

Good bye, parade.

All done.

Keasey Tree Farm Tour

2011-09-01T21:53:00.000-07:00

When Shaun and I got married eleven years ago, it never occurred to me that we might one day have two boys and spend our weekends doing things like visiting the Oregon Tree Farm of the Year. How fun that it turned out that way.

Shaun's folks invited us to join them on the tour of the Keasey tree farm, put on by the Columbia County Small Woodlands Association in conjunction with the Oregon State University Extension Service. While the event confirmed for me that I am not particularly interested in forest management, the farm was a beautiful place to spend the day, and I wouldn't have missed it.

Here Grandma and the boys are enjoying some doughnuts before things get started. You can see the original homesteader's cabin, which stood on the property when the Keasey family bought it in 1889. The rest of the house was added in 1896.

A picture similar to this one ran on the front page of the local paper. Our whole family was in it. In that picture Willem has his arms lifted up to the sky and his head bowed. At first I thought it looked like he was conducting an orchestra, but his pose is too sinister for that. More like he's summoning his minions from the far reaches of the earth to come do his evil bidding.

Here we are in the woods listening to a talk on watershed management. This can be a touchy subject for tree farmers, but everyone was very polite.

The highlight of the day (apart from eating lunch under the beautiful old tree outside the house) was the opportunity to tour the house. We were shown through by an elderly man who'd married into the family. He had agreed to do some restoration work in exchange for being allowed to live there with his wife (who had grown up in the house) until she died. His work on the house was a labor of love in the truest sense. I thought it was gracious of him to come back now that his wife has passed away and show us around.

This is not the original wood stove, but it is old and charming nonetheless. It is from Sweden, and the wife picked it out during the restoration.

Here's an upstairs guest bedroom. So plain and peaceful. I fancied I would write something wonderful if only I lived in it.

I wish I could read his name tag, but at least I have a picture here of the gentleman who restored the house. He's showing us a little attic nook off one of the bedrooms. I want one.

Here is the bed he made for his wife out of a cherry tree from the property. We couldn't get a great picture of it on the phone, but I made Shaun take one anyways. It was so beautiful. The man got emotional, telling us about the bed, but I'm the one who totally cried.

This textile was stunning in person. It belonged to the husband's family and came from the Chicago World's Fair in 1893. Having recently read The Devil in the White City, I found that awesome.

I have the same print, but in a different original frame. I love that this looks like it could have been hanging here since the day it was brought home new.

This is an original light fixture in its original spot. Oh, how I love it.

Intriguing old formerly useful things in an intriguing old shed. I could identify absolutely nothing in it.

The Small Woodlands people are colorful folks, but for a big heaping helping of local color, you have to go to the Vernonia Friendship Jamboree. Which we did. Coming up next.

Losing Our Grip

2011-08-29T14:55:00.000-07:00

We all know that our physical lives are fragile. The challenge is to know it and live well with it; to find that middle place between denial and morbidity.

On our way home from an unusually grueling playdate a few weeks ago, the boys and I saw fire trucks parked at the swimming hole a few blocks from our house. A news helicopter hovered overhead. Well, thanks--or no thanks--to the internet, I didn't have to wonder for long what had happened. The news channel's website said they were searching for a 14 year-old boy who'd disappeared under the water while swimming with his friends. Ten minutes after I stopped hearing the helicopter, the site was updated with the news that they'd found the boy's body. I was weepy for the rest of the day, thinking about his family.

Several years ago when we lived in Bend, the pastor of the church we attended and his wife Kathy had a teenage daughter who was battling leukemia. I remember attending a prayer time for the daughter, and one of the women in the church asked Kathy how she dealt with the uncertainty of her daughter being in and out of remission.

Her answer came back to me as I mulled all this over the past few weeks. Kathy stretched out her arm with her palm up and her fingers open. "I hold her lightly," she said.

Kathy knew that her daughter belonged not to her but to God. We all do. And every day of health that we enjoy and every breath that we take is his good gift. And rather than live my life in fear, I would do well to receive his gifts with thankfulness--and to hold them lightly.

*****

This seems an appropriate place to note that our friend Becky Ward died recently of complications arising from surgery. Becky was too shy to comment here on the blog, but she often made my day by sending me personal comments on my posts via email. I know that her friends and family, particularly her children and grandchildren, will be missing her until the day they see her again.

Message Received, Boys

2011-08-24T14:10:00.000-07:00

It's All in Where You Put the EmPHAsis

2011-08-19T13:06:00.000-07:00

Willem just learned the phrase "practical joke." But he doesn't say "practical JOKE."

No, he says "PRACtical joke." As opposed to an impractical one, I suppose.

Boo!

2011-08-18T15:13:00.001-07:00

Summer Reading

2011-08-05T13:56:00.000-07:00

Does your local library have a summer reading program? Read books, log your hours, get prizes? Ours does, and since both of my kids are motivated beyond all reason by prizes, they wanted to sign up for it.

They went to it right away, hunkering down with their stacks of books. A preternatural calm settled over the house. The only sound was the rustle of turning pages. It was a miracle. I was so happy I almost cried. OK, maybe I did cry just a little.

Within three days they had earned their first prize (a Japanese fan) and it was all downhill from there. Keeping track of how long it took to read each book and writing a little summary turned out to be a huge pain. Willem wakes up before everyone else and reads in bed, often re-reading a book several times, which we couldn't count. He probably read several more hours than the 900 minutes we officially logged for him.

They did most of their reading to themselves, but I did give them a break by reading aloud one of my childhood favorites, The Pushcart War. It made me want to go back to New York.

Obsessing over favorite books hindered their progress somewhat. Even though it was old for them, both boys pored over Doug TenNapel's Ghostopolis for weeks. Willem couldn't follow the story very well, but he loved the ghoulish drawings. And the potty humor.

The defining literary moment of our summer, though, has been the discovery of Calvin and Hobbes. Our library has only one of the individual books and one of the enormous collections that spans several years. We've already renewed it once, which means the boys have spent the last several weeks fighting over it. They've taken to "calling" it to save it when they get up to eat or go to the bathroom, just like my sisters and I used to do with our favorite chair when we were kids. Yes, it's provoked many battles, but it did provide four hours of log-able reading time per child, so that's something.

It took a few weeks to get Nels to stop calling the characters "Kevin and Hubbies." Nels gets a lot of the humor and understands the devices Watterson uses to show what is "real" and what is imaginary in Calvin's world. He's also getting some great vocabulary.

Willem, on the other hand, misses a lot of the jokes and reads the whole thing in deadly earnest. I can't imagine that failing to take Calvin with a grain of salt is putting some fairly oddball ideas into his head, but he hasn't done anything too crazy yet.

When it's Willem's turn for the book, it's "Mom, listen to this" every few minutes. It gets old, but his clear little voice reading Calvin's dialogue is like having the character right there in the flesh in the room with me. And the way he says Susie (Soo-see) is so charming that I can hardly bear to correct him.

When Nels finished up his summer reading and Willem still had 90 minutes to go, it threw Willem into such deep despair (and he threw such a huge fit) that I almost decided the program hadn't been worth it. But they both finished, and now each boy has a garish yellow t-shirt and a stronger-than-ever reading habit to show for his efforts. It's good.

More Vacation

2011-07-22T10:18:00.000-07:00

After our aquarium visit, we went to the delightfully named Yaquina Head Outstanding Natural Area. It was indeed outstanding. Also very windy.

Next we headed up the coast to Shaun's folks house. Shaun suggested we stop in at the Pelican Pub and Brewery in Pacific City. Do look at the photo at the link to see how it is the most amazingly situated place to drink beer. Or to eat or drink anything, for that matter. Somehow I had never heard of it.

Shaun and I split the oyster po' boy, and I'm not really sure what I was thinking. Sometimes I get clams and oysters confused. This is half of the sandwich. The batter was perfect, and I could handle the bites that had oyster parts I could chew. But the creamy center of a golf ball-sized oyster is not for me. I thought I was going to have bad dreams about it later, but I haven't so far. Maybe now I will.

This is our view from inside. Haystack Rock is right around the corner of the building. The patio just extends right out onto the beach. I wanted to take a seat and sit there for the rest of my life.

After our meal, we played on the beach a bit. Willem said, "Look at that goose raise its leg!" and Shaun said, "That's a seagull." We live way too far from the coast.

And, so, after a very full 24 hours, we headed to our home away from home for the next two nights. This is where Shaun sat with his book. If you need some peaceful downtime between jobs, it's hard to imagine a better setting for getting it than this.

And then we pried Shaun out of his chair (he really didn't want to leave) and off he went to his new job, where he just finished his second week. The office culture there is so much healthier and suited to his personality than where he came from, that it almost sounds too good to be true. (i.e. the boss cooks pancakes on Fridays, the office fridge is stocked with groceries for employees to use, and in lieu of a company picnic they will be walking across the bridge to Waterfront Park for the Oregon Brewer's Festival.)

I half expect Shaun to have a Bluebeard's wife moment and open up a storage closet only to discover a pile of dismembered junior programmers, lulled into complacency by the promise of microbrews and the smell of fried bacon from Olympic Provisions wafting throughout the hallways. But mostly I think it's great and I'm really happy for him.

Martins Afield

2011-07-18T16:37:00.000-07:00

I could probably count on one hand the number of times our family has been out together in the middle of the day in the middle of a week. With Shaun's time off in-between jobs, we took a teeny tiny family vacation, which entailed one night at a hotel in Newport, Oregon, and two nights at Shaun's parents' house while they were in California.

Have you ever been to Newport? Oof. I am sure it is home to many nice, hardworking residents, but I found it a downer to be a tourist there. That could have been due to the fact that it's kind of like an 80's ghost town. It obviously boomed then and has been steadily declining ever since. Falling into the 80's time warp stirred up all sorts of tween weirdness for me, which is not necessarily something I look for in a vacation.

But we were all together and our (80's, of course) hotel was just fine and right on the beach and we had a lot of fun. On our first day we got there later than we planned, with just enough time to see the Visitor Center at the Hatfield Marine Science Center. Admission is by donation (and they don't guilt you into giving), and the boys enjoyed it. We probably could have told them it was the Oregon Coast Aquarium (the main destination of our visit) and called it good.

We ate dinner at what seemed to be the most standard tourist joint. It sounded safer than going with any of the many newer-fangled options, most of which were just too expensive. Our food was good; Shaun and I had fish and chips, and Nels eschewed chicken fingers in favor of a big bowl of clam chowder. For some reason it seems odd to me for a seven year-old boy to love clam chowder so much, and it warms my heart to watch him eat it.

After dinner we paid a visit to the candy store. The clerk had stepped out to her car and caught someone breaking into it shortly before we got there, so we had the bonus excitement of watching the policemen take the would-be thief into custody. At bedtime Nels told me that that was his favorite part of the day.

The next day we went to the Oregon Coast Aquarium. The boys were engaged, but less impressed than I expected them to be. We probably should have prepped better by getting out some of our books on sea life. It's always more fun to see things when you know a bit about them. I felt a little sad that our kids won't get to grow up on the coast like I did, and therefore cannot readily identify a chiton, for instance. They had no idea what an abalone was.

But NONE of us had seen this before, and we were all impressed.

They are Japanese Spider Crabs, the largest crabs in the world, and they are crazy spooky. There is no way the pictures can convey how amazing and creepy these things were.

The jellyfish displays were spectacular.

Here, three prawns are harassing a crab. One of prawns seemed to be trying to beat the crab with its puny arms. I don't know what the deal was. It was weird.

I would like to live in a coral reef for the colors.

But not for this. Eww.

This is a sea pen. Imagine all the fancy stories you could write with it if it worked.

The seals in this tank were swimming laps around it, as seals do. I didn't notice until now that three of the girls are wearing the same sweatshirt. I guess I was too busy wishing for the seals to do something interesting.

Oh, yay, we're surrounded by water. My overactive imagination and I totally love this.

Willem is hoping to get eaten by a shark.

See? See how much I love it?

Nobody got eaten by a shark or even stabbed by a sea urchin. At the end of our visit we squashed a penny in the machine for each boy (the cheapest souvenir available) and headed out for more adventures. Or for what passes as adventures for us these days.

Summer is Upon Us

2011-07-14T14:50:00.000-07:00

Summer is my nemesis. The first day or two is always fun. After that the novelty of not having to be up and anywhere wears off, and the kids are telling me they're bored, and the whining and bickering escalate into crying and fighting, and I'm ready for school to start again. Of course, just when things are at their worst, a strange calm falls over the house and I find that the two sworn enemies have taken to the yard together, where they are exploring the nine strange new planets they've discovered.

I thought all my problems were solved when I signed the boys up for the summer reading program at the library. They read like crazy (oh, the quiet!) until they each got their first prize. Then they lost their steam.

It's not like we don't go to the park, or the magic show at the library, or swimming lessons. It's just that there are so many hours in a day.

We had friends over for dinner and our kids tried to sell them water.

My mom came for a visit, which we just loved, and we all went to see Mary Poppins, which we did not just love.

Willem had a hard time staying awake for the whole thing, but he liked it apart from that. I thought the script was soulless and I wished they hadn't gutted the lyrics of the old songs. Granted, the movie version was a bit of a mess too, message-wise, but at least it had the charm of Julie Andrews's voice and her ability to give Mary Poppins a tender heart underneath all that smug self-satisfaction.

Nels loved it, of course, which just about made it all worthwhile. He was so jazzed (the ONLY word for it) afterwards that he was dancing around the lobby. He could not keep his feet still. It took a great deal of effort to keep him from bouncing off people on the way to the car.

The weather's been gloomy lately, but we did have some sun right around the holiday weekend. There weren't enough hot days in a row to warm up the water in our inflatable wading pool, though. Here are the boys post-dip.

Here they are getting warmed up for the 4th. Not sure why Willem felt compelled to stand in the thick of the smoke.

Every time.

We went out to Grandma and Grandpa's for the 4th of July. We are waiting for the Vernonia parade to start.

The folks in the parade toss candy to the crowd. They often don't toss it very far. It certainly adds to the excitement to have kids running out into the street to get it. Grandma spotted her hairdresser riding in this truck, so she ran over to tell her to throw some candy at Willem.

What's better than shooting a bb gun at Grandma and Grandpa's?

Nothing.

After the holiday, Shaun went back for one last day of work at his old job. Here are his feet and his bag of stuff from his desk.

Celebratory hamburger. I've noticed I like to celebrate with food. Hence the diet I started this week.

Actually, the hamburgers were fine but not nearly as good as they look in this picture.

Up next: Martin Family Staycation and Shaun Starts His New Job!

Memorial Day Weekend in Boise

2011-06-29T00:11:00.001-07:00

"Go often to the house of thy friend, for weeds choke the unused path."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

A Tale of Two Dinners and a Camping Trip

2011-06-22T14:40:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, the CEO of Vertigo Software, a company with an office here in Portland, mentioned on Twitter that the company was hiring, and asked people to send him an email if they were interested. Shaun has followed the company for a long time. He was interested, and he emailed. He got a reply that night. Then he got an email from their HR department. That night. Containing a request for an interview the following Monday. Over the next week or two, he made it through an informal screening interview and a technical phone interview.

The final hurdle was an in-person coding challenge. Two weeks ago today, Shaun went in to the Vertigo Portland office. He was given the specs for a project and two and a half hours to have at it. When the time was up, they had lunch at the Produce Row Cafe. Then he presented his work and answered questions. Then he was interviewed some more.

Shaun was so fried by the pressure of not wanting to blow his chance of working at the company that he very most wanted to work at that he didn't even call me when he was done. He just came on home.

And went camping!

Beacon Rock with the Morgan family is always fun. How enchanting is this spot? Here, David is serving up foil packets of carrots and potatoes and onions and garlic and sausage that were cooked on the campfire. Which is exactly what you should eat when you're camping, especially when you've had a soul-draining day of job interviews.

It wasn't, perhaps, the most relaxing weekend. Shaun was expecting to hear if he got the job on Friday or Monday. When we didn't hear Friday, it meant a weekend of wondering. Also, on Saturday night a drunk old man got stuck in his tent at the campsite next to us. At the campsite next to the Morgans, a very very very very very untalented jackass got out his guitar at 11:00 and sang to all of his buddies at the top of his lungs for several hours. I didn't let Shaun go ask them to quiet down (my overactive imagination saw it all ending with terrible, bloody violence) and we were out of cell range, so we couldn't call the ranger. It was rather satisfying to tell on them the next morning when the ranger came by, though.

One of those milestones that you don't know you were waiting for until it arrives: the boys deciding on their own to play Uno together in the tent.

Gotta make your own fun when you're camping.

Walking up to "Little Beacon Rock."

How cute is Mila? Her folks do an amazing job of managing her diabetes and keeping her healthy.

Carved into the picnic bench at our campsite.

Lisa Marie, Ezra, and Mila getting serious with the s'mores.

So Monday came and we waited. And waited. 3:30 rolled around...I needed to go to the store to get something for dinner. But would it be a celebration or a consolation meal? Surely we would hear any minute. I couldn't bring myself to go shopping. And Shaun came home with no word and we had no food in the house.

So Shaun pulled everything out of the freezer. Everything. Eight fish sticks. Five taquitos. A handful of wedge potatoes. Two mozzarella sticks. Twelve mini quiches. There was also one leftover piece of pizza in the fridge that Willem claimed before we even started cooking. Shaun made a careful timeline of when to put all the food in and when to flip it and when to take it out. So this was dinner. Not one of my proudest homemaking (or lack thereof) moments.

Well, I certainly wasn't going to let that happen again. The next afternoon I decided to take a chance and bought some salmon steaks at Whole Foods. And missed the call. And noticed when I got back in the car. And called Shaun back. And found out that we would be having celebratory pan-roasted salmon for dinner.

Shaun starts the new job on July 11. Cheers to him!

Logs III

2011-06-02T17:17:00.000-07:00

Here's a student (believe it or not) bucking team. There were Jack and Jill teams (the state champions were there) and Jill and Jill teams as well. The students held their own against the professionals--I'm guessing it's because they have more practice. We learned that the key to success is in the push. If you find yourself pulling the saw, it's all over.

Ax throwing. Nobody lost a limb that I am aware of.

Only the high schoolers did the log rolling. It was NOT a warm day, but several kids jumped in willingly. Willem kept asking me how much it cost to get in there. I couldn't figure out how or if they were scoring the event--I think it was mostly an excuse to goof around.

Cable splicing is a very photogenic event.

It also requires a great deal of strength. Shaun and I watched two girls struggle until they were finally told to stop. They'd made good progress but eventually couldn't get the spike into the cable in the right spot. They were red and close to tears (of frustration), but they didn't cry and they didn't give up.

I loved watching the girls throw themselves into the competition. I'm thinking that future girlfriends for our boys should all come from the forestry club.

Yep.

Logs II

2011-06-02T17:13:00.001-07:00

This kid was hanging out on this spar pole before the competition began. He talked on the phone for quite some time. The caption for this photo comes courtesy of Shaun's dad:

"Can you hear me now?"

Those are high school boys. Their poor mothers.

The pole climbers had to do a bunch of fancy rigging once they made it to the top. More than once a cable slipped and they had to climb back down. Lots of audible groaning from the crowd during this part.

As part of the main event relay, the competitors had to jump over several logs while carrying and dragging all that heavy stuff. And they made it look easy.

The last step in the relay is to squash a Coke can. With a tree.

Logs I

2011-06-02T17:10:00.000-07:00

If you've ever made the drive from Portland to the coast on Highway 26, chances are you've noticed Camp 18. The grounds include an outdoor logging museum, a restaurant housed in a massive log building, and a newish logger's memorial. Going to Camp 18 is a favorite tradition in Shaun's family, as it's only about a 20 minute drive from the tree farm.

In the past few years, Camp 18 has started holding an annual service (for loggers whose names had been added to the memorial that year) and logging competition.

Well, this past year Shaun's mom wrote a lovely write-up of Shaun's Grandpa Chick's life and found a nice picture to go with it, and it is now hanging in the memorial. (Look for R. N. "Chick" Jensen.) And when Shaun's folks invited us to the big event, we were excited to go.

In my fervent prayers for no rain, I had neglected to consider the need for sunscreen. It was one of those overcast days that gives you a stealth sunburn. We mystified all of our friends at church the next day with our ruddy glow, as it had apparently rained all day in Camas. I felt like a terrible mom allowing Willem to get his first real sunburn, but I guess one every five years isn't too bad.

The competitors were made up of professional logging crews and high school forestry club students. I didn't know there was such a thing as forestry clubs. It's like 4-H, but with logging instead of farming. Apart from the climbing, I think I might have enjoyed something like that when I was in high school. It sure would have beat marching band.

A word on the crowd: The event was well-attended, but it wasn't really a spectator deal. Almost everyone there was obviously in the industry in some way. Everyone knew each other, and, if they didn't, they felt like they should. It was really fun to sneak into that community and get a first-hand look.

When we first arrived and I saw everyone in their logging gear, I was bummed that I hadn't thought of dressing the boys in their hickory shirts. But after hanging around the families of the real loggers for a while, I was glad I hadn't. Nobody likes a poser. Which doesn't mean that we won't happily have the boys wear the shirts in other less "professional" settings. After all, Grandpa rightfully wears one (as did Great Grandpa Chick), and we are very proud of the family's logging heritage.

Here things are getting underway; we're singing the national anthem as they run the flag up the spar tree.

After a short talk from a pastor who managed to find a logging passage in the Bible (!), the names of the loggers who'd been added to the memorial that year were read. The man doing the announcing choked up several times when he reached the names of friends, particularly those who'd died in accidents. His emotional extemporaneous remarks had me wishing I'd brought a tissue. At the end of the list, the signal whistle was sounded.

"One long and one short," said the man. He struggled over the end of the next sentence. "That's the signal for quittin' time."

Sniff.

A big aim of the day was to raise money to keep the memorial building open and running. So all of the professional crews were "auctioned" off, with the highest bidder winning a percentage of the prize purse if "his" team won the competition. Most of the teams sold for $400-$800, which I thought was impressive. We had to keep swatting Willem's hand down, as he got pretty enthused over the proceedings.

Auction in progress.

You may recognize some of these guys if you've watched the show "Ax Men."

Ax Men on the block.

Here's the field of competitors getting their instructions. The high school kids did all the same things the pros did. One thing Shaun noticed is that there were no barriers anywhere. Folks were trusted to keep a safe distance and not to crowd the competitors or mess with the equipment. We appreciated the opportunity to see everything up close.

Let the games begin!

Mother's Days

2011-05-24T10:59:00.001-07:00

I got a full week of Mother's Days, thanks to programs at the boys' schools.

Willem's preschool had a tea. Nothing went majorly wrong, but the event had an uncomfortable, "off" feel to it. It probably wasn't necessary for one of the teachers to announce that a staff member who had needed to study for an exam had stayed up until 1 am making the cupcakes. That just made me feel even worse when none of the other moms at the table ate their cupcakes. Come on, ladies. You can't all be gluten intolerant.

Next, one of the school administrators came up and prayed for us in the kind of tremulous speaking voice that (fairly or not) makes me question the person's emotional/mental/spiritual stability.

Then: "I have a gift for all of you, and I'm so excited. I'm not sure how it's going to go, but I've been practicing a lot," she quavered. And with that confidence-inspiring introduction, she cued the music and launched into the William Tell Overture "Mom Song." Awkward.

There was no where to go but up from there, right? Video interviews with each child were next -- that could only be awesome.

"Why is your mom special?"

"My mom is special because she's beautiful." Aww went the room.

There were more in that vein. The girls usually said sweet, thoughtful things. The boys, like Willem, said more self-centered but still positive things like "She loves me."

But two of the boys said nothing in their interviews. Nothing at all.

"What's special about your mom?"

(Silence.)

"What do you love about your mom?"

(Squirming in the chair, looking away from the camera.)

A few more futile tries, and it was a wrap.

Shaun didn't think this sounded like a big deal when I relayed the story to him, and, in the big scheme of things it probably wasn't. As a mom, though, I found it heartbreaking. Later I learned that the school had been running late on the project and had done the taping that very morning, so they probably didn't have time to try again. But I say better to ditch the whole idea than make a mom sit in a room full of other women and watch her child come up empty on those questions.

So that was Willem's thing. Nels's "Moms, Muffins, and Manicures" morning was, despite the name, less weird. The biggest challenge was fitting five full-grown moms and all of the celebratory accouterments at each cluster of five first-grade sized desks and chairs. The kids sang for us before we dined on giant muffins and fruit punch. I thought "Put a Little Love in Your Heart" was an odd song choice, but Nels performed, as always, with gusto. We were given handmade cards, tissue-paper flower pictures, and wrist corsages fashioned of tulle, artificial flowers, and pipe cleaners. It was charming.

And, yes, most of us acquiesced to having our fingernails painted by our children. A mom next to me hemmed and hawed for a while before picking a barely visible color for her nails. "I have to go back to work after this," she told her son. I knew Nels would be into it, but I was surprised to find that the boys were just as eager to paint nails as the girls were. Perhaps more so, because of the novelty.

On Mother's Day For Real, I was getting over being sick, so we didn't really make plans ahead of time. Shaun orchestrated the making of cards and got me some treats and the book Mystery and Manners: Occasional Prose by Flannery O'Connor, which I hadn't asked for but really wanted. So nice.

After church we agonized for quite a while about where we might go to eat that was worth going to but wouldn't cost us an arm and a leg. We settled on Montage, which was a good call. Our friend Amanda takes her students there every time they come to town, but we hadn't been yet. Foolish us. I think I was put off by their "playful" cocktail menu when I checked them out online. (A brunch cocktail with Tangerine Emergen-C in it? Aack!) But the service was good, the place had a ton of personality, and it was totally affordable.

The most expensive item on the brunch menu was a flatiron steak and eggs at $9. The boys' breakfasts were a little crazy with paprika, but I loved my BLT, and Shaun's biscuit sandwich was rich but plate-licking good. We'll be back. Hopefully before my next week of Mother's Days.

A Birthday

2011-05-20T09:47:00.001-07:00

Shaun took a half a day off on his birthday so he could stay home with Willem while I went to a Mother's Day event at Nels's school. We finished up early, so Shaun ended up taking both boys out to lunch at the Puffin Cafe. It's a fun place, but they have the slowest service in the world. Every time we go we vow never to return, and then, somehow, Willem talks us into it.

These pictures are going to give you the wrong idea about our spring weather this year. It's been gloomy, but this day was glorious.

No, he's never seen a Jim Carrey movie.

Back at the ranch, Shaun's folks joined us for a birthday dinner. There was eating of chips and hanging out on the deck.

Willem scored a pirate ring at the restaurant. He wore it for the rest of the week.

Chatting with Grandpa.

We're overdue for a cat picture on this blog. She's 11 years old and as pretty as ever.

Dinner!

Shaun's mom brought beans and homemade rolls. I made Sweet and Smoky Oven Spareribs and Corn, Avocado, and Tomato Salad.

For dessert we had ice cream sundaes. I tried this hot fudge recipe, which was a hit. It's really easy to make, which is an important quality in a recipe for me. When I cook for company, I am very scatterbrained and easily distracted, so the simpler it is, the less likely I am to mess it up. Some of the reviewers thought it was too sweet, so I used 70% Lindt chocolate. I thought it turned out just right.

May 4 wasn't just Shaun's birthday--it was also my brother-in-law Cliff's birthday! Same day, same year. My sister and I are three years apart, and our husbands were born right smack dab in the middle. (She's younger than hers, I'm older than mine.) They are both excellent men. May 4 is a happy day.

May Day

2011-05-18T14:07:00.000-07:00

The first half of May is always a little crazy for us. The fact that Shaun's birthday, our anniversary, and Mother's Day come in quick succession all but ensures that at least one of these celebrations will be less than all-out.

We started May 1 by "teaching" the 2-3 year-olds at church. Neither Shaun nor I feel at all gifted in this area, but we do it once every 6 weeks or so to give the regular folks a break. On this particular Sunday the service went late, and the kids started running laps around the carpet. I persuaded them to listen to (the first two pages of) a book instead. I thought my boys were champions of invading personal space, but, as you can see below, darling Solveig has found a way to top them.

Shaun suggested we take advantage of the nice day and head for the coast. Fish and chips, ahoy!

Oops. Coulda used some sunglasses.

We decided to check out the beach at Cape Disappointment, where Shaun had camped with friends a few weeks ago. I had never been. It's beautiful.

Up by the tree line, the sand is black and glittery and silky. I basically spent the entire time seeking out warm patches of undisturbed sand to stick my feet in. (It was really windy, so I was in hunker-down mode.)

Where's Waldo? I looked at this picture at least three times before I noticed Willem was in it.

Nels got a good laugh from us when he accidentally gave himself a goatee. So of course...

he had to go bigger. He didn't think it through very well.

Still, it was worth it.

Mind over matter in action. Keep busy and you won't even notice the cold.

I'm looking forward to camping here some day. Some day warmer. How can you beat this?

Expressive Much?

2011-05-17T16:47:00.001-07:00

I'm glad I'm not the only one in the family whose face is an open book.

Easter at Grandma and Grandpa's

2011-05-16T10:51:00.001-07:00

Crown him the Lord of life,

who triumphed o'er the grave,

and rose victorious in the strife

for those He came to save.

His glories now we sing,

who died, and rose on high,

who died eternal life to bring,

and lives that death may die.

April III

2011-05-16T09:57:00.000-07:00

On the Thursday before Easter we went to a Seder at our church. It was facilitated by a local messianic Jewish congregation. They did some dancing as well. Willem watched them intently and then pointed his finger at one dancer with straight, shining hair and a particularly attractive smile.

"I like that one," he declared.

Lighting the candles.

The day before Easter, we participated in our church's egg hunt for the first time. We got there just before it started, and it was crazy to see the people streaming out of the surrounding neighborhoods as we drove up. There were 2000 eggs "hidden." Mostly just strewn on the lawn.

Willem got to cruise his way to double-digit eggs. Nels was the youngest in a category with far fewer eggs to find and tougher competition. He was disgruntled to end up with only four eggs. Willem shared. But we all know it's just not the same.

Afterwards we tried a fancy local pizza place for the first time. Nels is wearing a necklace with feet that he earned at school by running at recess. He added two pendants made of Lego for some additional bling.

I cannot resist a pizza with a big pile of arugula on top. (Spell check is telling me that arugula is not a word and suggests that I try jugular instead.)

We enjoyed our one day of outright sunshine. This is the time of year Shaun starts daydreaming about moving to Arizona.

FYI

2011-05-13T09:44:00.000-07:00

Blogger is having some "issues." They took down all of yesterday's new posts (I had two) and are currently working on putting them back up.

In the meantime, have you heard of "logical punctuation"? (It's the British style.) I hadn't until I read this. I'm a fan.

UPDATE: Hooray! They're back!

April II

2011-05-12T10:36:00.000-07:00

The Macks (Shaun's sister and her family) came out to stay with Shaun's folks the week before Easter. Unfortunately we only got to spend one day with them, but we made the most of it!

I can't believe that Heidi is about to turn two. The boys just love her.

Rock star with a turkey baster.

Lego.

Shaun and nephew Henry.

No, the boys were not allowed to shoot.

Not the little boys, anyway.

Willem playing in the sink with great-grandma Laurel. We all love spending time with her.

Blurry, but cute.

Alas, our spring bonanza of Mack visits has come to an end. They were taking advantage of some great plane fares and the fact that Heidi could still ride on a lap. We surely enjoyed it while it lasted.

April I

2011-05-12T10:18:00.000-07:00

Playing on the newly-felled logs at Grandma and Grandpa's.

Helping dad wash the car.

Homemade fangs.

Faith and Culture Writer's Conference

2011-05-02T16:54:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it's already been a month since I went to the Faith and Culture Writer's Conference at Western Seminary.

I've been wanting to get to a conference for a while now, but they are not cheap. This particular conference was a one day affair, and the rock-bottom price of $55 for the entire day (8-5) included breakfast, lunch, and unlimited snacks.

AND it was a Christian conference. I had no idea going into it if that was a good thing or a bad thing. It worried me that all of the agents and editors who would be there (not that I had any intention of meeting with an agent or an editor) worked in the Christian market. The Christian publishing world is indeed a world unto itself, and I will be honest here: I haven't read any Christian fiction since high school, when I was at camp at Mount Hermon and picked up a recommended Jeanette Oke book at their Christian (only) bookstore out of desperation.

However, when I saw that one of the keynote speakers was Gina Ochsner, Flannery O'Conner Award for Short Fiction and two-time Oregon Book Award winner, I took heart that the conference organizers were folks who were interested in both spiritual and literary integrity.

After the first keynote address (the other speaker was Paul Louis Metzger) I had to resist the urge to call Shaun at home and tell him how amazing the conference was. It's been so long since I went to a good talk that gave me so much to think about. I'd read Gina Ochsner's People I Wanted to Be: Stories in preparation for the conference, and really enjoyed it. By the end of her first keynote address, I totally understood the whole disciple thing: I was ready to follow her around and sit at her feet, hanging on every word.

The first workshop I went to was with Mike Thaler. (Please do check out the photo at the link. He was wearing the same happy shirt and bright tangerine-colored pants.) Mike writes for children, and has had a long and interesting career. Mike is in his 70's, grew up Jewish, and became a Christian ten years ago. Every time Mike discussed his faith and how it applied to his life and work, he was overcome with emotion and had to pause to collect himself. As a result, we didn't get through very much content, but his evident passion made it a more memorable session than it might have been otherwise. An added bonus: Gina Ochsner attended it as well.

I went to Gina's workshop on tips for generating story ideas when you're stuck, which couldn't have been a more apropos topic for me. Almost all of the examples she gave were from stories of hers that I'd read, which gave me a great peek behind the screen. It was amazing to see what she'd used and how she'd done it.

I also took the opportunity to go to a seminar from Matt Mikalatos, who is a friend of a friend, lives in the area, and has a blog that I enjoy. Matt wrote the book Imaginary Jesus (do not let the cover photo of the skeevy 80's youth pastor-looking imaginary Jesus put you off), which I also read ahead in advance of the conference. I am a total junkie when it comes to stories of "normal" people and their paths to publication, and his talk did not disappoint. It's not every day that a writer passes around a stack of rejection letters ranging from a form rejection addressed to the wrong person to a bitingly personal handwritten note. But Matt really did his own thing when it came to writing his book, and it was published! I find that inspiring.

One seminar I couldn't make it to was Brad Harper's "Why (Evangelical) Christians Do Bad Art." I heard it was good though, so I bought the recording of the session. Much of what he said I'd already concluded independently, but the talk was still worth a listen. Also he quoted his friend Dan Siedell, whose name I recognized from my friend Amanda. Here's a link to an abridged version of Dan Siedell's recent chapel talk at Biola, which was a good companion to what I'd heard at the conference.

By the end of the day I was wishing for more. Of course I didn't agree 100% with everything I heard (how dull that would be!) but the tone and level of the discussion left me invigorated rather than drained and discouraged. I'll be looking forward to next year's conference with cautious optimism; it's hard to imagine how they could top this year's. (Well, OK, axing the worship music would be my only suggestion.)

I came home that evening to a delicious home-cooked dinner, cooked by Ariana and provided by the Mullins family, who stayed the weekend with us while they were between homes. (And countries--read about it on Ariana's blog!)

It was a great day, and one that I hope stays with me for a good time to come.

Proving Mom Wrong: It Hurts So Good

2011-04-26T22:13:00.000-07:00

Willem had his five-year immunizations today. I didn't tell him what we were up to until an hour ahead of time, which I figured was optimal both for minimizing dread and for getting the "no, I'm not going to have shots" fit over with before we got there. Upon receiving the bad news, Willem did indeed shut himself in his room and proclaim that he would not be getting shots. Fortunately, I had a bargaining chip in the form of a threat to withhold a rare play date with his best friend the following day.

Resigned to the inevitable, Willem came out of his room and sought to arm himself with information.

Will it hurt?

How long will it take?

Where will they do it?

Will I scream?

"No, you won't scream. You might say ouch! ouch!" I said, smiling and keeping my ouches lively, as though I were being bothered by some minor nuisance. Willem must not have remembered the day Nels had those shots: his thigh muscles were so tense, it was like trying to stick a needle into a marble statue, and he screamed bloody murder.

When the big moment arrived, the nurse had Willem sit on my lap with his legs hung over to the side. I wrapped my arms around his chest and held his arms close. I think we both found this comforting, even though the nurse's sole aim was to prevent him grabbing for the needle. (Can you imagine? Apparently kids do that all the time.)

Prick. Prick. Prick.

Willem sat utterly still and silent until the nurse set everything down, and it was clear that she was done. Only then did the sound leak out, a low hiss that turned into a quiet moan, and he began to shake. He took a few moments to collect himself, then looked at me with triumph in his teary eyes.

"See, Mom? I didn't even say ouch! ouch! like you said I would."

Fun With Friends

2011-04-14T16:50:00.000-07:00

And now for the rest of the Hamilton's visit!

I am glad have we so many friends with charming little girls. It's nice to have a girl fix when I am feeling overwhelmed by all the rough-and-tumble that boys entail.

For instance, who could resist this little munchkin?

This girl can eat Honey Nut Cheerios like nobody's business (the most likely explanation being that she's usually fed something more healthy at home.) She had two bowls herself and then found and finished Willem's own abandoned bowl at some point in the morning. I have really been falling down on hostess duty, allowing guests to eat cold cereal for breakfast.

The boys and an iPhone: like moths to a flame.

While Hamilton visits often entail fine dining, we're not always fancy. Here we are enjoying an Ikea meatball lunch.

Willem can put away the fifteen meatballs on the plate all by himself.

After we put the kids to bed on Friday night, Shaun made potato chips.

I just can't leave well enough alone.

On Saturday we tried out the Pearl District's buzzy new Little Big Burger.

It's cool, but I'm not a fan of places where you have to lurk about waiting to pounce on an available seat.

On Saturday night, there was no pouncing. We lined up our babysitter extraordinaire and set off for Laurelhurst Market, a restaurant I have been reading about in my food magazines since it opened.

They don't take reservations for small parties, so we got there early. At 5:30 there was an hour and a half wait. They took our phone number and we went and had a beer at the cozy Horse Brass Pub, a worthy destination in its own right.

Then it was back to the restaurant and its adjoining butcher shop.

My quick review: I didn't really care for the steaks, but everything else we ordered was delicious (including the cocktails.) The salt cured foie gras torchon with blood orange, grapefruit, and brioche bread salad with saba and cress (I know, how pretentious does that sound!) was the dish of the evening. Shaun pointed out that it had obviously been made with pure evil, which was what made it taste so good.

After dinner it was still fairly early, so we headed downtown...

had a nightcap at Clyde Common...

and still made it home before 10:30!

It may seem like all we did was eat, but it was a short visit, so that is what we did most of. We also spent some time at Powell's and then tracked down a new iPad for Amanda, which everyone (including the babysitter) had fun playing with.

Fun. With friends.

Yippee Ki Yay

2011-04-13T09:36:00.000-07:00

"Mom, I can hula hoop with my arms crossed."

Nels had been telling me this for weeks. The Helen Baller spring program was coming up. The theme was "cowboy," and Nels's class had learned to hula hoop for the occasion.

Once the big day finally arrived, we had to leave the visiting Hamiltons at our house for a few hours while we went to the high school to watch the program. Every class in the entire school participates, so it's not the sort of thing one wants to subject out-of-town visitors to.

We didn't get there early enough to get ready parking, so Shaun dropped me and Nels off. Nels grasped my hand firmly as we joined the stream of fellow almost-late families heading for the doors of the school.

"Look at that boy's hat," said a mom walking behind us. She was referring to Nels, who was wearing a cowboy hat that was a gift from my mom. I think she bought it in Sisters, Oregon. Wherever it came from, it was the jen-yoo-wine article.

"He has the best hat in the whole school." Nels didn't look at me, but he stood up straighter and his step grew bouncier.

"He sure is lucky." Her children, a boy and a girl, voiced their assent. When I dropped Nels off with his classmates, his eyes were shining.

Here are the spectators occupying one side of the Camas High School gym. The entire student body (and teachers) took up the other side.

Here's Nels and some of his classmates waiting for the show to begin. The red-kerchiefed kiddos are Kindergartners.

Ready, set...

spin!

Here's where he really hit his stride and I cried just a little. It was fabulous.

When his group finished, all the kids took a hurried bow and ran off. Nels, on the other hand, bowed low and slow, with a flourish and a wave to each section of the bleachers.

A job well done.

After the show, we came home to find that Amanda and Andrew had cleaned up the dinner mess I'd left behind, and they'd washed the dishes. And Amanda had scrubbed my kitchen sink cleaner than it's been since we first moved in. Yippee ki yay.

Springy Spring Spring

2011-04-08T12:50:00.000-07:00

We've done lots of great things lately, but a round-up of springtime photos is in order before I launch into that.

After the boys got those amazing shields and books about knights, Willem was hankering for some armor. Shaun crafted these out of cardboard. Once Willem added the hat, they looked more like robot cowboy chaps.

It always takes me about five times longer to get dinner on the table than I expect it to. These boys are ready to dig into the St. Patrick's Day soda bread.

I made a sort of theme-y dinner because we had to eat anyways, and it seemed like a good excuse to drink a Guinness, which I hadn't had in a while. I waited until three hours before dinner to decide on what I was fixing, and when I ran to the neighborhood Safeway, they were sold out of cabbage. I improvised with a bag of coleslaw mix.

Here we are on a Sunday at Willem's favorite restaurant, the Lakeside Chalet. I'm not sure if he loves it because of the breakfast they serve all day or because of the extensive collection of dinosaurs with huge open mouths that they have available to play with. Probably a little of both.

He was inspired to draw a toothy dinosaur of his own.

One afternoon the boys watched a show that featured the world-record holder for building the tallest house of cards. As soon as the program ended, the boys shut off the TV and raced upstairs to get out our cards. Nels in particular worked for hours over several days trying to build a two-level house. I love it when they do that. It makes me feel much less guilty about the TV-watching.

We watched a documentary on origami, and Willem abandoned it midway to go work with paper at the craft table. Nels watched to the end and then spent the next week littering the house with accordion-pleated papers of various colors and sizes.

While I was at a writing conference last Saturday (more on that weekend later), Shaun was the parent designated to take the boys to a birthday party. I love how methodical and tidy Nels was in wrapping up his brother like a mummy. And Willem's expression of resignation is priceless.

Here is Willem after a typical Sunday morning of racing around the church hallways. He has doused his head in the drinking fountain. We are so happy to go to a church where our kids have other kids to run around with and grow up with. Good people there.

This week has been spring break, and the very grand Martins took the boys for three nights. We're going to pick them up tonight. While they were gone, we had this hail storm:

Also while they were gone, I had this. Because sometimes a girl just needs a giant day-glo margarita. (Oh, in this picture you can see the ring that I mentioned in a previous post.)

Three nights is the longest we've ever been home without the boys. I am greatly relieved to find that I miss them!

Wrapping it Up

2011-03-22T16:01:00.000-07:00

After the rally at the library (the measure passed, by the way), we took the long way back to Kim and Cory's house. We got off the freeway at Beverly Boulevard and showed the boys our old stomping grounds in uptown Whittier. They were exactly as impressed as I expected them to be. Which was not at all.

For me, though, it was surreal to drive by our little white cottage on Greenleaf. There was a "For Rent" sign stuck in the lawn, and our old neighbors Mark and Sandy were out front, as they always had been on a sunny day. Mark had the same bird dogs that he'd spent most of his time yelling at and whistling for, and his perpetual girlfriend Sandy (they maintained separate residences but were always together) appeared to be wearing the exact same black velour warm-up suit that was her uniform eight years ago.

We wondered if we should stop; we decided to. But they were talking to the driver of a delivery truck who had stopped in the street, blocking the parking at the curb. When the truck moved on, so did they. Chasing them down would have been too weird, so we drove on. It made me a little sad, which was of a piece with how I felt about the whole afternoon.

We continued down Greenleaf, which looked more vital than it had on our last visit. I wish we had stopped and walked and taken a chance on a place to eat, but the boys were beyond exhausted by that point, and I was feeling a little shell-shocked myself. It was strange to pass through a place that had been such an important part of our lives.

Shaun leaned across me and took a picture out the window of what had been such an important part of his life:

We pointed out the landmarks to our impassive sightseers. Look, mommy used to live there. -There's daddy's old apartment. Well, you can't really see it from here, but it's back there. -That's where mommy used to be in plays. -Do you remember Eric? Dietrich's daddy? He used to work there.

Even the El Pollo Loco on Whittier Boulevard, where we finally stopped for lunch, was not spared: I used to stop here a lot on my way home from work and pick us up some dinner, Shaun told the kids. But memories, schmemories. Two weeks later, it's the churros that the boys are still talking about.

After lunch we drove the surface streets from Whittier to Placentia. Everything was familiar. But because I lived in six different places during my time in LA/Orange County, and because it's been eight years now since I lived there, I wasn't able to put everything into context. I remember this drive. But where would I have been going? Of course I remembered the big destinations, but the mundane details of day-to-day life were lost to time. It was very unsettling. As a person with a natural tendency to see things as black and white (as unrealistic and misguided as that may be), I feel very uncomfortable when confronted with the erosion of my memory.

I felt a sense of loss, but with it a sense of gratitude. I realized that I've lived in a lot of places, all completely different from each other, and I've enjoyed every one. All in all, it was a bittersweet afternoon.

The evening, however, was nothing but sweet. Auntie Nancy and Great Grandma Martin joined us for dinner at the Macks', and we finally enjoyed the In 'N Out burgers I'd been looking forward to since we bought our plane tickets.

Nancy brought late Christmas presents: leather-covered shields with a version of the Clan Ross crest and Sir Nels and Sir Willem embossed on the front. Brass nameplates mark the shields as belonging to Nels the Valiant and Willem the Lionhearted, which I think are very apt monikers indeed. Accompanying the shields were some excellent coloring books on swords and jousts and tournaments. They came in handy on the trip home.

Can you tell that all the kids were a little fried by the end of our visit?

Here's cousin Henry in normal mode. His drawings of any manner of conveyance (train, monster truck) are all particularly good. Sweet cousin Heidi is in the background.

Early to bed and not so early to rise, and before we knew it it was Monday afternoon and we were headed home.

It's a proven fact that drinks taste better when sipped through dual cocktail straws. Ask any kid.

Goodbye, California. Let's not be strangers.

Sunday Morning With Miss Hillary

2011-03-19T18:59:00.000-07:00

Can you believe I still haven't made it through our California trip? Nels got a terrible cold the day after we got home. Then Willem got it. Then I got it. We're all getting better now, but our entire household was running in slow motion there for a while.

You know how when you travel to foreign countries, it's always really different if you stay with people who actually live there and see what life is really like? That's kind of what it was like to hang out with my sister on Sunday. She is a children's librarian, and she was working at a rally (which she'd mostly organized herself) in support of a library funding measure.

There's no way on earth we would have gone to that event otherwise, and it turned out to be a lot of fun, and a perfect snapshot of life in LA.

Hillary is a librarian at the Memorial Branch of the Los Angeles Public Library. It's so lovely! And there's a playground! And no machete fights! (That would be at the dangerous old branch she was transfered from a month ago. A week before the machete fight.)

This girl can read a story like nobody's business. It was noisy and crowded and crazy, and she had the full attention of a huge group of kids.

And then she whipped out her ukulele! I have to admit, I got a little teary-eyed watching her in action. It is so gratifying to see someone do something that they are good at, that they are suited for, and that they are enjoying. The kids adore Miss Hillary.

Free books were passed out--quite a boon, since we hadn't brought a lick of entertainment with us apart from Angry Birds on Shaun's phone. The books were easy enough that both boys could read them to themselves in the car and on the plane. Perfect!

A magic show was part of the program, and the magician was exactly right for kids. Nels just about died of happiness when he was the first volunteer to be called. He was totally up for a little public teasing. I couldn't pick just one of these pictures, because I love his body language in all of them.

This guy killed it. I have never seen a happier, more engaged audience than this.

I saw one little girl ask to have her picture taken with Hillary, just like a princess at Disneyland. In the picture below, Hillary is telling me that the man with the impressive hair behind her made the same request, and she had to tell him she would take photos with children only. Perhaps he'd noticed the street style blogger who'd taken her picture earlier.

Do you remember Susan from Seinfeld? George's fiancée who died from licking cheap wedding invitation envelopes? When Hillary met Heidi Swedberg at the library, she only knew her as a ukulele player with a children's album she liked.

Ms. Swedberg closed out the program with a rather wordy song about Proposition L. Take a minor celebrity, a manifesto, and a ukulele, and what you get is a perfectly Seinfeld-ian moment.

Hillary had another event to run to after the rally, so we stayed for a bit and let the boys play on the playground. "Isn't Auntie Hillary good at reading stories?" I asked Willem. He nodded.

"And she's beautiful," he said reverently.

California Continued

2011-03-16T14:28:00.000-07:00

The second full day of our trip was spent criss-crossing Los Angeles County with the Childs family.

Our first stop was The Blue Star, in the industrial part of LA, for breakfast. A block from the restaurant we had to drive around a long line of pick-ups with scrap metal to sell, waiting for the giant magnet to swing over and relieve them of their loads. 'Twas colorful.

We ate a hearty breakfast in the sunshine on this outdoor patio. The outsize pleasure (and novelty) of eating outside in March made me feel like a rubbernecker. These days it's hard to remember that I'm a native Californian.

The excellent Thorne.

After breakfast we headed to Pasadena to check out a house. (We aren't in the market, but Steve and Danica are.) We stumbled across an estate sale at a super fancy, super tacky house. Being us, of course we stopped.

Next it was down the hill to play at the park (and use the bathrooms) at the Rose Bowl. Once we were plenty hot and sweaty, we drove to Alhambra to the legendary Fosselman's. My stout (as in beer) ice cream was delicious, but if you go, do as the locals do and get the cappuccino ice cream. It has chocolate in it and it is good. If I had noticed the brown butter flavor (which I just saw on their website), I definitely would have asked for a taste. I have never considered myself an "ice cream person," but I loved everything I tried. I can't believe I lived in California for all those years and never went to Fosselman's. Don't be like me.

Sometimes we miss California.

We relaxed for a bit in Los Feliz at Steve and Danica's and then it was off to dinner at Umami Burger, which we've been hearing lots about. Their namesake burger didn't blow me away, but the California burger and the Truffle burger were finger-licking good. (No, I didn't eat three whole hamburgers myself, but I probably could have.) It was such a treat.

The whole day was a treat, in fact. Driving all over the place was part of the fun, since it had been so long since we'd been to California. It could only have been better if we'd fit into one car and enjoyed everyone's company all day. (We split up; boys in one car, girls in the other.)

Our family is so blessed to have great friends. If only we could figure out how to live near all of them.

Four!

2011-03-14T19:40:00.000-07:00

Four years ago today, I was the proud mother of two teeny boys and a brand new blog. As stick-to-it-iveness is not one of the qualities I'm known for, this may be a personal record for my pursuit of a non-required activity.

So here's a tip of the hat from Nels of four years ago to you, my friends who check in and make this so much fun to do.

A Day at Knott's

2011-03-14T10:06:00.001-07:00

I've loved living in Oregon and Washington, but I do wish my kids could share many of the experiences I had growing up in Southern California. My grandparents lived just down the road from Knott's Berry Farm, and my grandpa has always loved roller coasters, so Knott's was a big part of my childhood. Even though this was a short trip, I figured an afternoon there was a great way to spend some time with Grandpa and do something the boys would enjoy.

We had gorgeous weather, and the park was all but empty. The sparse crowd was actually kind of a downer, but it meant that we didn't have to wait in any lines. We often got to ride again without getting off the ride at all, which was a good thing with two tired little boys. I graded the day "exceeds expectations."

Reporting for fun.

Varmint.

The Sierra Sidewinder was our first ride, and I was afraid it was going to break Grandpa and scare the boys off trying anything else. It's a swiveling roller coaster. Scared me to death. The boys were total troopers (as was Grandpa) and it turns out that Willem is something of an adrenaline junky. Surprise, surprise.

Matching dimples.

Willem is looking over my shoulder as I write this. He just pointed to the picture below and said, "Say that one is the boring-est." That one is the boring-est.

These cars went really slowly and then whipped around the corners.

Pure joy.

This little roller coaster was the favorite ride of the day. I think they went on it nine times.

We stopped in at the Calico Saloon so Grandpa could wet his whistle ($9 beers ensured that he didn't get sidetracked too long) and we happened to catch this (family friendly) performance. Man, that is one tough way to make a living. The banter between the actors and the crowd was quite lively, and Nels loved every minute of it. That boy is just itching to get on stage.

The show took me back to the days after college when I used to circle the amusement park entertainer jobs in the classifieds and bemoan the fact that I was a third-rate singer and that my dancing didn't rate at all. Some day I'd love to do community theater again, but the dream of being an actor is one youthful wish that it's a big relief to have outgrown.

I really talked up the Log Ride, both because it has always been one of my favorites, and because the cross street we live off of in Camas was originally a chute that conveyed logs down to the mill at the bottom of our hill. The ride's unexpected plunge into pitch blackness scared the boys more than anything that day. And Willem ended up in front (bad mom), taking the brunt of the splash from a grateful Grandpa (who nevertheless let slip his only profanity of the day.)

Guess who's terrified of Ferris Wheels?

It wasn't until Shaun started teasing me that Grandpa noticed how freaked out I was and started rocking the seat. (To the best of his ability, anyway. He's too tiny to do much.) This is my "trying not to lose it in front of the kids" face.

We ended our day with a feast at Ma Knott's Chicken Dinner restaurant. The boys were almost too tired to put their forks to their mouths.

Loaded with leftovers, we stopped by Grandpa's place (where he gave each of the boys a $2 bill and a pen that says Shay's Pour House) and then made our way back to the quiet sanctuary of Shaun's sister's house, where we were made to feel right at home for the duration of our stay.

There's an excellent brewery in Placentia, and we were thrilled to find their fine brews available at Albertons when we stopped in for some cough syrup and our own whistle-wetter. If you ever see something from The Bruery available at your local bottle shop, jump on it. Everything we've tried has been delicious.

Ahhh.

And We're Off

2011-03-11T14:48:00.000-08:00

Somebody's excited.

Just taking the shuttle bus from long-term parking was a thrilling novelty for our easily entertained crew. At some point, Willem scooted over to put his arm around Nels. Which was a thrilling novelty for me.

Buckling up! This was our our first time flying together as a family of four.

It's ginger ale, I swear.

The boys went to school on Thursday and our flight didn't leave until dinner time, which made for a very long day. They didn't get to bed until eleven o'clock, and I worried about the toll that might take on our Friday. But it's hard to worry too much when you wake up to this:

Well, ok, I could still worry. Because the first order of business was to go pick up my grandpa on our way to an afternoon at Knott's Berry Farm. And my grandpa is a bit...hmm.... I will go with the word "eccentric" for our purposes today.

Here's his house in Garden Grove, peeking out from behind his prodigiously overgrown front yard.

It's kind of like the Disneyland Jungle Cruise but with a silver Miata instead of boats.

And reminders not to forget your fanny pack.

Seriously. Do not forget the fanny pack.

Knott's is next!

On Such a Winter's Day

2011-03-10T11:54:00.001-08:00

One week to the day before we left for California, we woke up to this:

We were ready for some sun. But snow in town in winter is just as rare as sunshine, and even more welcome to the boys. The Grandmartins invited us out for a Saturday of snow at their place. Thanks to their higher elevation, it usually sticks around longer there than it does in Camas.

First they fueled us up with a beauty of a brunch.

There was plenty of snow left to play in.

The boys had the time of their lives "sledding" down a very slight hill. Nels in particular.

Uh oh. Starting to fade.

Crazy river icicles.

Stick a fork in that boy...

he's done.

Nothing a little lolling about in front of the wood stove playing with Daddy's new iPhone can't fix.

Round 2! We dried off their gear before they put it all on again and went out for one final hurrah of the day. Grandma knit the hat!

Up next: sun.

Bests

2011-02-22T17:31:00.000-08:00

Best Name of a Literary Journal: Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens

Best Title of a Book Nels Checked Out at the School Library (with bonus awesome author name): Bladderworts: Trapdoors to Oblivion by Victor Gentle

Best Out-of-the-Ordinary Things I Am Going to Do In the Near Future: take a family trip to Southern California, go to this writing conference

Best Way to Start My Day: walking by Willem's room and hearing him reading Where the Wild Things Are aloud to himself in bed. I presume he was getting himself in the right frame of mind to face the day.

Your bests welcomed in the comments.

If You Say So...

2011-02-18T16:47:00.000-08:00

Yesterday Willem and I were watching Antiques Roadshow while I folded some laundry. A man brought in a first edition of Cormac McCarthy's The Orchard Keepers that he'd gotten from a relative's estate. The book was in a plastic cover, so he'd figured it might be of some value.

The appraiser was a rather dry, academic fellow, who used the opportunity to educate the viewers on the collecting of modern first editions. Almost all of the book's value is in the dust jacket. In this case, the dust jacket was in excellent condition, but it was a substitute. The book was worth about $125; with the correct jacket it would have been worth much more. The man took this news very cheerfully; the book was free to him after all, and he was quite content with the outcome.

Part-way through their subdued conversation (No Keno brothers here), Willem said, "That could be you and Daddy at dinner."

"You mean--those two men talking--that's what Daddy and I sound like when we're talking at dinner?"

"Yeah."

Well, that's funny. Because if you'd asked me what I sound like when I'm talking at dinner, I would say it was more like please stop tipping your chair back/what are you DOING with your water?/scoot your plate closer to you/that's DISGUSTING/please sit on your chair/you just dipped your sleeve in your sour cream/PLEASE STOP TIPPING YOUR CHAIR BACK!

Today Willem and I were listening to the radio in the car while running some errands. Terry Gross was interviewing James Franco on Fresh Air.

"That sounds like you and Daddy."

Again!

So--if you ever wonder what we're REALLY like at home, when there's no one else around--just tune in to National Public Media. I guess.

Happy Valentine's Day!

2011-02-14T17:07:00.000-08:00

A little Larry Norman for the holiday; because you ain't nuthin' without love. (And not the kind that Hallmark is peddling.)

This and That

2011-02-10T16:18:00.000-08:00

1. We are well into the school year, and I have not once forgotten to send a lunch to school with Nels. If that doesn't sound like a big deal, just ask my mom whether it is or not.

2. I love that Runyan's Jewelers has been in downtown Camas forever. I took my watch and a ring in to them for repair.

"Would you like a loaner?" the lady helping me asked when I handed in my watch. I said no at first, then thought, what the heck, I should take a look, and asked if I could see what they had.

"I never heard of getting a loaner," I said, as she fetched the tray and set it on the counter.

"Well, we have your watch..." she said. "People usually end up bringing these back."

Indeed. The selection was dismal. She was sympathetic.

"Just see if there's something you think you might be able to stand wearing for a few weeks." (Their watch guy was on vacation.) It turned out there wasn't. I thought I might go for a forgettable Anne Klein watch with a brown leather strap, but it had the name of a company blazoned across the face. Probably a commemorative gift for putting in five years.

I turned down a joking suggestion to take a Three Little Pigs watch the size of a silver dollar and left without any watch at all, a decision I regret now that I've found myself checking my empty wrist several times a day for the past two weeks.

The ring I had fixed was a 50's-vintage cocktail ring from my Grandma Toni. It originally had two pearls set on barely visible posts at a diagonal, with a tiny spray of diamonds in between. The ring had been missing a pearl since I'd played with it as a girl, and I had always wanted to have it fixed. Had I known a new (real) 10 mm pearl would only cost $25, I would have done it a long time ago. Of course, the post had broken off too; it was white gold and about 1/6th the size of a tic tac. That cost $30 to replace.

Anyhow, the new pearl is whiter and smoother than the gorgeous older one, but the ring still turned out pretty snazzy.

3. One of my great estate-sale finds last year was the anthology Modern American Short Stories, published in 1945 and edited by Random House co-founder Bennett Cerf. You can see the list of included stories and authors here. The stories are intentionally all over the place, and it is great to read them all juxtaposed against each other.

Before each story there are biographical notes and an explanation of why that particular piece was chosen, and these alone make the book worth reading. Most of the writers were still living and writing at the time the book was published, so you get to read things like "For the past few years William Faulkner (1897- ) has been fitting, more or less, into the Hollywood scene, and the fiction world has been catching up to him, copying some of his technique and mannerisms, dealing with the same weird and underprivileged people of the South." Good fun.

4. Willem has taken to following me around the house when it's just the two of us at home. Up the stairs, down the stairs. Up, down. He even waits outside the bathroom door for me to come out. This morning I got up extra early for some alone time. You'll never guess who popped into the office to stand at my shoulder at 6:45. I know that this phase will soon pass, and before I know it I'll wish he wanted to spend time with me. But, for now, the constant companionship is rough on my inner introvert.

5. I'm taking a break from my weekly writing group. It's time to change things up a little.

Happy weekend!

It's The Little Things

2011-02-03T16:41:00.000-08:00

I finally found someone to cut my hair! The first few times I got my hair cut "here," it was in Seattle. Then I went to a stylist at a salon in Beaverton. That was a lot closer, but it still required a dreaded weekday drive through Portland.

Now I've found a salon that's ten minutes away, where a haircut costs only seventeen dollars. That's the good news. The bad news is that the salon is called "Lil' Snippers" and the one "grown-up" chair in the place is situated next to a diminutive bubble-gum pink Jeep. Each of Lil' Snippers li'l customers selects both a vehicle to sit in and a movie to watch at top volume while getting his hair cut. Spa-like it is not.

At Lil' Snippers my hair does not get washed and my scalp does not get massaged (I do love a good scalp massage), but my hair looks downright decent when Kara is done with me. And now that I have reconciled myself to the fact that no haircut in the world has the magic to make me look like I've lost ten pounds, well, some nice layers and something I don't have to blow-dry before going out in the world makes me plenty happy.

Checking In

2011-01-27T22:00:00.001-08:00

Yep, we're still here. I haven't had much to blog about of late, and today is no different. This should hold us over until I'm feeling more inspired:

Behold, our seven year-old teenager.

Also, Willem reads now. He totally reads. Which is great and amazing to me, but it's hard to get used to.

Willem is in a phase in which he follows me around the house from room to room. All day. And when I sit down at the computer, I can't tell you how disconcerting--and annoying--it is when he sidles up alongside me and starts reading aloud from the monitor.

Of course I wouldn't have it any other way. But I do miss the days when I could take a quick jaunt through the lingerie department at a store without Willem pausing to puzzle out a word and then asking in his most confident, ringing voice, "Mom, how do you say BRA?"

Books and Movies

2011-01-16T15:55:00.000-08:00

I'm not exactly sure when it happened, but at some point I stopped reading books. There was a time in my life when reading was so important to me that to say I stopped reading books would be like saying I stopped breathing. But I started reading fewer and fewer novels (I've always been a fiction girl and a bit of a plot junkie) until finally, when I had my first baby, I just about quit books entirely.

I couldn't not read--I subscribed to a bunch of magazines and journals, because I knew I would be able to read to the end of something and put it down when duty called. Duty called often and with a very screechy voice.

Well, not long ago, Shaun took up reading in his spare time in a way that he hadn't ever done before. And I saw him sitting down with his book, and I thought how has this happened? How can it be that I don't read novels anymore?

So I started in. And now I remember. I picked up Little, Big by John Crowley and it took me a while to get going, but once I did, I was back to my old habit of staying up all night because I couldn't stop turning the pages. And despite the book's shortcomings, it was so successful at creating its world that I got crabby when I finished the book and it was time to say good-bye.

Because Shaun was so enthusiastic about it, I read Cormac McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses next. Well, that was different. The first several pages were hard for me to get through; the language felt suffocating and I seemed to be reading with the lights out. After a bit, though, it opened up and I was sucked right in. The whole deal; up too late, mad when it was over, trying not to talk like a cowboy.

I haven't dared to pick up another novel this week; I've been reading some short stories and my new issue of First Things. I guess I will have to institute a strict bed-time if I'm going to let novels back into my life. Self-discipline is not my strong suit.

Weirdly, I have also stopped watching movies regularly in the past several years. I used to love to watch movies. In the past two weeks I've seen four movies. Between those and the books, I feel like my head might explode.

Shaun was in a western mood, so we watched Rio Bravo. And I liked it. Who knew Dean Martin was such a good actor? We also watched the movie version of All The Pretty Horses. It was interesting to see what they did with it, but I didn't think it was worthwhile apart from that.

Departing from our theme, we took the boys to the cheap theater ($3 tickets!) to see Despicable Me, and for maybe the first time in the life of our family, all four of us equally enjoyed the movie. This review says a lot of things I was thinking about it better than I could. It's good fun.

Shaun's folks took the boys this weekend, so on Saturday we spent our gift certificate at Powell's (thanks, Nancy!) and loafed about at Clyde Common. The excellent Jeffrey Morganthaler was behind the bar, so we decided to stay put rather than rushing off to catch a showing of True Grit.

When we got home we watched Exit Through The Gift Shop. Is it weird that the narration was my absolute favorite part? Anyhow, it is an engrossing (and occasionally very funny) documentary that raises significant questions about art without being preachy or taking itself too seriously. You don't come across movies like that every day.

So, that's the year's worth (for me) of culture I've taken in in the past few weeks. I'm also reading The Borrowers (a book I somehow skipped when I was a kid) to the boys. Willem usually loses interest in books written at Nels's level, but the notion of tiny people grips him, so he's following right along. I don't think I'll ever count it among my favorites. Nevertheless, it should come as no surprise that I still find it hard to resist that perennial plea: Just one more chapter!

Catching Up

2011-01-06T10:39:00.000-08:00

I would not have thought it possible for anyone with a googly eye stuck on his forehead to look so serious.

I did no pre-Christmas baking this year, so when Shaun got a hankering for holiday cookies he had to fend for himself. I found him a recipe for "Christmas Nuggets," which was the only thing in the house we had all of the ingredients for. They tasted much better than their name suggests.

The pre-school Christmas program was better than it has been in the past, but I'm glad it was our last one. Nels played games on Shaun's iPod until he could no longer control his audible outbursts ("Oh man, come on!") and we had to cut him off.

Saddest Christmas kangaroo ever. (Yes, the kids sang a song about Roo Roo the Red-Nosed Kanga. Yes, they're wearing reindeer antlers. No, it makes no sense.)

Shaun built us a lot of nice fires in December. Willem settled down alone in front of this one. Sometimes even a five year-old needs some space.

We had a great Christmas with cousins at Grandma and Grandpa's. I like to call this photo "Unusable Signal."

Now this is a Christmas Eve outfit.

Boys are great, but we definitely enjoyed having a little girl around.

No shortage of Christmas cookies here.

Somebody stole the curlers right off Grandma's head.

It wouldn't be Christmas for Shaun without krumkake.

And here's our little cyclops again, slightly less grim this time and wishing you all a happy new year.

For Those of You Not on Facebook and Who Therefore Missed This Announcement

2011-01-02T13:00:00.000-08:00

My very short story Rainy Day was published at the online Journal of Microliterature this week. Fiction is not my forte, so of course it's all just real-life stuff rearranged and condensed to 1000 or so words.

Thanks to friend of the blog Oleg, whose friendly short story contest prompted me to write it.

Happy New Year!

God With Us

2010-12-24T02:50:00.000-08:00

I read this from The Anchoress today:

It’s what we’re called to, not merely as Christians, but as human beings. To be willing to ENTER INTO the pain, or the fear, or the tumult and whirlwind of another person’s life and say, “ssssshhhh, it’s alright, I’ll keep you company for a little while…” It is humanity at its finest.

And while it is, as I say, neither the exclusive calling or the exclusive virtue of the Christian (in fact in too many Christians it is all-too-lacking), I cannot help – in these final days of Advent – to think about what God did, in a lonely cave on the outskirts of Bethlehem, when He condescended to enter into the pain and fear, the tumult and whirlwind of the world…when he “set his tent among us,” not merely “dwelling” among us as lofty king, but literally “with” us, with hunger, the capacity for injury and doubt…

God entered in, not with a cacophany of noise and a display of raw power, but as the humblest and most dependent of creatures: a baby, lying in a manger, a place for the feeding of animals. He, who became Food for the World, entered with silence, as though he had put his finger to the quivering mouth of a troubled, sobbing world and said…”ssshhhh…it is alright, I’ll keep you company…”

Of all things, this made me think of an experience at Ikea I had a few months ago. I did a little shopping with the boys, and then we headed to the cafeteria for lunch. As the boys, eager for meatballs, walked a few steps ahead of me, I passed an elderly man. His head (not his face, but his bald skull) had something very wrong with it. It brought to mind a piece of fruit that had gone bad and then been dropped on the floor.

At first I was just shocked. Then I thought, Thank God the boys didn't see that. Then I felt terrible for my reaction. I imagined how hard it must be for that man to live in a world with people like me who don't know how to graciously respond to people with squishy-looking heads.

Still mulling over The Anchoress's words, another time came to mind. Shaun's Grandpa Chick was dying, and we went to see him for the last time. As far as we knew, he could not tell we were there; his eyes were closed, his body was agitated. And I felt ashamed at how uncomfortable I was, of how hard it was for me to be there.

There are so many things I don't want to think about. Orphaned kids; hungry kids; kids whose parents tell them they're stupid. I can hardly stand it. There is so much that is difficult and painful, and ugly in this world, and I often feel that if I don't avoid it, if I know too much about it, then sadness will overwhelm me.

Not Jesus, though. He came to live among us. He sees the diseased bodies. He sees the child soldiers. He sees the mass graves and the underground cities. He sees, and, unlike me, He does not turn away.

His name is Emanuel; He is God with us. Praise God for that. May He grant me the courage to follow His example.

Off To A Good Start

2010-12-20T18:25:00.000-08:00

Today was the first day of vacation for the boys. They slept later than usual, so I did too. They did get up before me, though, and, after Shaun left for work, I could hear them talking in Nels's room, deciding what to do.

"I'll go get my stuffed animals!" said Willem, racing off to gather them up. He returned to Nels's room and climbed up on the bed.

"OK, but I don't want to play stuffed animals," said Nels.

"OK. We can just snuggle and look at some books," suggested Willem. It was agreed.

Though their quiet reading time quickly devolved into squabbling, the original impulse was a good one, and set the tone for the day.

After breakfast the boys and I went through all their toys together for the first time. (Usually I make things disappear when the kids are sleeping, but I suspected that I wasn't being ruthless enough.) We looked at every toy, one by one, and passed judgement: keep, toss, give.

My intuition turned out to be correct; the boys quite willingly (cheerfully, even!) got rid of a ton of stuff, and we all feel a lot better now. Ah.

Pleased with a job well done, I went to check my email and almost fell on the floor. My inbox contained an email from Breadline Press, telling me they'd accepted my submission to their first West Coast Anthology.

I was so excited that I couldn't even remember what I'd sent them. (Turned out to be a short memoir piece.)

I'm not much of a goal-setter, but this year I had decided that I would work toward being published in print for the first time by the time I turn forty. Maybe that doesn't sound like setting the bar very high, but it seemed plenty ambitious (bordering on presumptuous) to me! I'm thrilled to be two years ahead of schedule.

It's a good thing I had a productive morning, because I was worthless for the rest of the day. I did manage to order some bagels and lox from Russ and Daughters for my grandpa's Christmas present.

I also got to the vet's office before they closed so I could buy our cat the solid gold food that she barfs up less frequently than any other kind. (Hmm...just like that crazy expensive formula we used to buy when the boys were babies, imagining that perhaps they seemed slightly less miserable than they were with the cheaper stuff. I sense a theme.)

It just so happens that our fridge in the garage is fully stocked with chilled sparkling wine for a New Year's Eve party, and I was very happy to have an excuse to break into the stash.

To recap: the first day of Christmas break started with my boys reading in bed and ended with a celebratory toast. Now that's a good day.

What He Lacks In Self-Control, He Makes Up For In Self-Awareness

2010-12-10T14:39:00.000-08:00

When I went to pick up Willem from preschool on Tuesday, I could only conclude that he'd been working on a Christmas present for me and Shaun.

I could see his lips moving as his teacher brought him out to the car. She slid the door open.

"Try not to tell. Try not to tell. Try not to tell," Willem repeated to himself fiercely as he climbed up into his seat and buckled himself in.

"Try not to tell." That was all he said until we'd made it out of the parking lot.

"I don't want to talk about anything because I might accidentally say," he told me.

"OK."

I hope he doesn't slip up--it would be a shame to waste such a monumental effort. So far so good.

A Very Bellingham Thanksgiving

2010-12-07T23:50:00.000-08:00

Our plans to drive up to Bellingham for the Thanksgiving holiday were threatened by a spot of weather, but we checked the road conditions, said a prayer, and drove up on Wednesday afternoon. At one point rain was freezing to the windshield, but the moment passed, and the rest of the drive went smoothly. Thanks, for the most part, to these three magic words: BOOKS. ON. TAPE.

Yes, we've reached that magical age. The boys sat still in rapt silence for FOUR HOURS. That's the good news. The bad news is that the book we were listening to was The BFG (it sounds profane, especially when Willem says it, but it stands for Big Friendly Giant) by Roald Dahl.

I am a huge Roald Dahl fan, but my love does not extend to that book. It revels in disgusting details while lacking an appealing hero or even any truly witty wordplay. The voice and the dialog of the BFG himself were so very unpleasant that I wanted to throw myself out the door every time he spoke. And the BFG had a lot to say. Next time we'll choose our book more carefully.

Next time I'll pack more carefully as well. On Thanksgiving morning Shaun and the boys had to wear rain boots on their walk in the snow. They are hardy fellows.

The snow was short-lived, which made me feel better about neglecting to bring the proper gear. Big rain and wind followed on the day after Thanksgiving. A walk down to the water presented a sight we don't see every day.

I've been trying to figure out what color Willem's eyes are for a few years now. I think "rock" should be an option.

As always, Juli and Dad went above and beyond in readying their house for a boy visit. Appropriate toys were purchased:

Themed cookies were baked:

And Juli single-handedly turned out a delicious Thanksgiving feast (along with many other meals and desserts.) All I did was snap a few green beans.

I may have mentioned before that my dad and Juli have a lot of birds. They have a whole nook off their living room devoted to birds. An aviary nook.

When the birds get fed, they are set loose from their cages for a bit. This time the boys were braver around the birds than they had been two years ago. Though they still weren't entirely comfortable, there was significantly less cringing and flinching this year.

I finally got a chance to make myself useful. Before we were even tired of turkey, Juli made crab bisque. Crab bisque is a party in a pot.

By Saturday morning the beached boat was back in action.

And, again, something we don't see every day: a man walking his goats. Actually, he was only walking one of the goats. His dog was walking the other goat. The dog wore a harness and walked alongside his owner, pulling the goat along behind. ("That goat's stubborn," explained the man.) They attracted quite a crowd.

Willem picked up a pine cone on our walk to bring home to Juli. I thought he took it very well when she gently declined his suggestion that they glue googly eyes to it.

On Saturday afternoon my dad took us around to the museums in town. At Whatcom Museum's new Lightcatcher building we saw some beautiful historical photos of Bellingham bungalows (a few of them were on my dad's street!) and a very nice exhibition of WPA works. The children's area had a corresponding play shantytown, which struck me as funny, though it probably shouldn't.

At the Old City Hall building we saw some interesting historical artifacts, including a complete dentist's suite that was truly terrifying. We also got to see some giant prints of some great old photographs that my dad had worked on.

The Mindport interactive art gallery downtown was the big crowd-pleaser of the day. It is a very playful yet very serious (in a good way) place. Juli was busy in our absence; we came home to a dinner of turkey tetrazzini, which I declare a very fine use of leftover turkey. She made apple pie for dessert. It was the third pie of our four-day trip.

We headed home on Sunday morning. By that point, I'm sure their cat Freddy was starting to wonder if life was still worth living.

We made good time on the drive home, though it was less peaceful than it could have been. For all the tearful and persistent begging, Shaun and I just couldn't bring ourselves to listen to The BFG again. No way.