Just Getting It Out Of My System

Every once in a while I fall in love.  It's usually with a coat.  Or a dress.  Or a pair of shoes.  Something spectacular and fabulously expensive.  I used to just say "It can never be,"  and walk away.  The problem with this approach was that I never stopped thinking about the object of my affection.   I imagined how great it would be to wear this amazing item, how people would be able to discern what an original and interesting person I am when I wore this item and therefore want to be friends with me...  Well, you get the idea.

Finally I learned that all I had to do to snap out of it was just try the thing on.  Thanks to shoulders two inches below where they should be (or a waist two inches too high), very few things that I pick up off the rack actually look good on me.  They usually look horrible.  And it is a huge relief when I look like a linebacker in the coat, or the shoes look and feel miserable (as they almost always do) on my wide feet.  I am able to laugh at my folly and move on.

All that to say, I am going to a voice-over class on Thursday and a voice acting class next Wednesday.  I'm quite sure it will be a terrible fit, but it's always been intriguing to me.  When a castmate of mine at the community theater in Whittier was taking classes and getting a bit of work, I wished it were something I was looking into.  And when my sister worked for an ad agency, she had a hand in producing some spots requiring voice-overs.  She encouraged me to check it out.

So I am.  And could any venue be less threatening than a community education course offered by a public school district?  I think not.  I hope not.  Though apprehensive about the nature and extent of class participation that will be expected, I can't pass up the opportunity to put to rest the thought of, "I wonder if I could do that?"  For all I know, I will have no interest in doing that.  That would be great.  As great as a $300 dress that gapes in all the wrong places.   At the very least I'll get out of the house and have something to write about for a change.

How Fitting

Nels figured out how to spell a word on his own for the first time today:

"Mom, does B-L-O-G spell blog?"

He's Five!

It's hard to believe that the tiny baby who never slept and resembled a tree frog has grown to be this deeply silly and serious boy.  I can't imagine our family without him.

We celebrated his birthday Saturday by putting our house through its inaugural hosting paces.  In a bold move, I decided to invite all of the local extended family.  This way they could all come see our new place and Nels could have some party guests.  There were 20 of us!

And it was fun.  I was so busy that it wasn't until today that the perfectionist in me realized that the guacamole was woefully underseasoned, the chili could have used some more salt, the decaf coffee beans were over roasted to an extremely untasty degree, and the Costco cake wasn't as good as I remembered it being.  I really didn't care, though.  It just felt so good to finally have a house full of happy, talking people.  

My mom came out and was a huge help, washing prep dishes as we went along so things didn't degenerate into total chaos.  I was even more glad of her help after last night, when I had to venture out at 1 am for some Tylenol for Willem.  Drawback #1 of living in a small town:  no grocery stores open 24 hours.  Nels woke up when I got back, so I had to tend to him and lost about an hour and a half of sleep after only getting about 4 1/2 hours the night before.  Imagine my joy when I woke up totally disoriented this morning to the sound of Willem talking TO MY MOM.  Oh, glory.  I slept until almost 10.  She had done the rest of the cleaning up from the party too.  I hope I will be as nice to my kids as the moms in my life are to me.

So today was perhaps the laziest day our family has ever had.  Ever.  We didn't leave the house.  We stayed in our pajamas until well after noon.  Nels was in his new pirate pajamas, so those stayed on until bedtime.  We spent the day laying about, watching Star Wars clips on the computer, watching the boys play Star Wars with the new light sabers, and napping.  Nels was the only one who managed to stay awake all day, fueled by the joy of playing with all of his new things.

It was rainy today, and therefore perfect.  Could there be anything better than a Sunday afternoon nap with the rain coming down?  Well, add to that the satisfaction of yesterday's party going well.  A husband sleeping on the couch because he was worn out from staying up late to clean.  A sick little boy also asleep.  And the recent birthday boy amusing himself for two solitary hours with his new Lego Starfighter.  An altogether very fine weekend.

I Stand Corrected.

"Mom," says Willem as he turns away from my outstretched arms, "pirates don't need hugs."

This One's For Auntie Kim

Here's our new dining set and light fixture.  To seat six we pull up bentwood stools to the ends of the table.  Shaun just put up the picture shelves last night, the idea being that someday (soon) they will have pictures on them.

It's High Time You Started Using the Potty Chair, Lord Vader

Random Roundup

1. I've neglected to mention that my mom and sister came for a brief visit last weekend. My sister very conveniently wrote about the visit and included photos, so I will direct you there rather than reinvent the wheel. I will add only that the most anachronistic moment of our Fort Vancouver excursion came when someone asked the blacksmith what he was working on and he said he was trying to make a bracelet like the $1500 steel one his girlfriend had seen at a gallery in the Pearl.

2. I was enjoying this post over at Rachel Balducci's blog, Testosterhome, mostly because I think Khaki Pellegrino is an awesome name. I tried playing along, but perhaps--just perhaps--it's overkill to try to generate a silly name when one's name is already GYPSY. My GANGSTA NAME, Gypizzle, sounds more like a gangsta euphamism (excuse me, I have to go take a gypizzle), and my STAR WARS name is the ever-so-galactic Margy.

3. I read this article at Slate.com and was relieved to discover that I'm not the only person who avoids "good" movies if they contain depressing or violent subject matter. Ha. Score one for me in the normal column.