Trick or Treat!

Our Halloween was fun. It was everything you might expect Halloween to be, and not much that you wouldn't. Bud flexed and roared as a muscle man; Pixie pranced as a princess; and Wombles kept putting candy into his "bank," which he then wanted to sleep with.

I enjoyed the new (to me) tradition of requiring a trick from college students before giving them any candy. Performances included a chorus of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," a front handspring, "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" sung in a round, and--J's personal favorite--a recounting of the Court's argument in Roper v. Simmons, including the two arguments the Court "hung its hat on" plus the Court's use of comparative constitutional law in its decision.

I'm going to have to go and "Google" Roper v. Simmons...I was paying attention to Oregon blowing USC out of the water at the time.

Anyway, I'm just here to post a photo or two of the kids in their costumes. Mom, I can tell you've been checking! :)

The crown made it three houses before the princess deemed it unworthy (it hurt). But Mom, everyone LOVED the cape! :)

When a neighbor asked him if he'd been working out, Bud explained that the muscles were just foam. You know, part of a COSTUME.

Get back here, Puppy Dog!

Open Season

I saw Allison (our neighbor) this morning. They officially got their house keys today.

YAY!

Now comes the process of everyone returning. Many are coming this weekend (tomorrow), but others are coming a little later.

At one point someone said something about so many moving trucks--would we need to coordinate somehow to make sure everyone could fit in?

I thought that was funny. Because we've had 14 houses rebuilt & 37 seriously rehabbed (new windows? new stucco?) on a 1/3 mile stretch. Talk about trucks.

Everything's not quite finished, but the houses are certified for occupancy. Now there's landscaping recovery & rehab starting....like between our house and our other neighbor's house (which also burned to the ground).

Landscaping in process this morning--there's Bud.

This means good times for little boys who are really going to miss all of the different types of construction trucks. Bud and Wombles spent much of the morning in the sandbox or its vicinity, watching the landscaping contractor & crew doing some deep exfoliation of what was formerly a hill lined with thick trees between our house & Kathy's garage.

Bud watching the first day of work back in March--from inside the window

Kathy's house was the very first one to have work done (we live on a loop, and they started with Kathy's & worked around to Allison's). All of the fine finish work happened at the same time, though, and EVERYONE got their keys today.

I have a little surprise for my neighbors. I hope they like it. I'll share when I've got them finished.

We are so, so excited. Even so, I am aware that for we who have been in the 'hood, this feels like a closing, a "finally through" kind of weekend. But my guess is that for those who are coming home (to homes that are not home) there is yet another stage of grieving and processing to undergo.

My house didn't burn down, and I spent the first three weeks or so back in our house as a minimally functional slow-motion train wreck.

The rebuilds are built to the exact same specs as the former homes (which is one of the reasons they are now finished when houses the next block over are about at the stage of the photo of Bud last March, above). Can you imagine the disconnect of going to your kitchen drawer--you know, the same one you've had for 12 years--and finding your scissors are NOT in it? Or that the set of sheets you're looking for isn't in the back of the linen closet where they have always lived? I can't imagine having all of the structure and context the same, and none--I mean none--of the content. I think our dear neighbors have longer than three weeks of grieving ahead of them. I can't imagine, but I am trying.

Bud said today that he wants to grow up and be a "worker." This means a construction worker. He wants to drive one of those big trucks--or tractors, rather--too. I asked him why he wanted to be a worker (he had already confirmed that he was still going to be living next door to me, so we were cool). His answer? So he can help people get their houses back after fires.

He also told Allison today that God would give her new toys, since hers had burned up.

I warned you that the processing was coming!

I hope Halloween shots will be coming tomorrow, too. Today was pumpkin carving: J did this while I was on my run up the mountain. Bless him. And tally #4, 612 while you're at it.



He lets Pixie and Bud design their pumpkins and then he carves them to specs. They love it.

This shot captures a look that Wombles constantly has when Bud is involved: some weird hybrid of "I don't know that I approve of this" with "So, how do you do it?"


Up close, now:


This year, Wombles had his own pumpkin. He was so incredibly pleased. When I got back from my run, He showed me "triangle...triangle...boat!" (mouth).


Here are the finished products:



And in case you're wondering, no, there has been no more rain in SB...Pixie has an umbrella because we had just been playing a game where she walked on a tightrope (imaginary) while I held her hand. Duh. You've got to have the umbrella.

Have a great weekend!

Meet You at the Pumpkin Patch

Especially for abuelos...


Last night, after another nail-biter of a Notre Dame victory, we went to the Pumpkin Patch at Lane Family Farms. This "little" farm has been around for over 100 years, and is nestled right in (the next) town, not far from Costco and Home Depot.

You wouldn't have known!

We got there and found pumpkins, pumpkins, everywhere...but also a corn maze, farm animals, and a hay pit. A hay pit? We'll get to that later.

After walking around and looking at the animals (they were all just "pet" farm animals except for the Belgian draft horse, who does work), Pixie convinced us to head to the corn maze. I'm not sure if she ran in and we had to go in for a rescue, or if there was actual mutual agreement...maybe reluctant agreement is the best way to express it. Anyway, we went in the entrance and almost immediately my hopes of trying my maze-theory out were dashed.


Sometime years ago I read how to methodically find your way out of any maze and had actually been thinking, "Allright! I finally get to try that out!" (Let's just skip the nerdiness part of that).

However, three small, very excited children do not mix with always staying to the right. And that was OK. So we took off at random with great gusto and had a blast.


Wombles loved shrieking, "This way!" running into the dead-ends. Pixie and Bud took turns navigating. J and I took turns chasing the forerunners and bringing up the rear with the straggler.


As we approached the final exit, I was hope-hope-hoping that we were coming out of the exit, and not the entrance again...we were that turned around. YES! Success!

J, Wombles, and Pixie also took a hayride on an antique Studebaker school wagon pulled by a tractor. Bud said it was too loud and hung out at the hay pit.

When he first arrived, there was a little boy who had been waiting for someone to show up. The point of the hay pit is to have hay fights.

The little boy kept running out of the pit. He and Bud were much of a size, but he didn't have the...the...θυμος (thumos) is what comes to mind...because we always use it of Bud. Let's just say the little boy didn't have quite the zeal, energy, or enjoyment that Bud did.

So Bud waited for Wombles to return.

They have walls around to contain the madness.

It's like the WWF of...hayfighting.

I did not get a single photo of this that wasn't blurry.

Soon after this, a small crowd of children joined in. Probably the highlight of the evening for J and me was when we overheard Bud talking (emphatically, of course) to a boy easily twice his age:

"Hey! That's my sister. You cannot throw straw at her. She is MY sister."

This was cool for several reasons. We love that Bud wanted to stand up for Pixie and protect her. Pixie, of course, was throwing straw, but Bud did not care: No-one could throw straw back at her. The big kid actually did what Bud said...which was interesting...although J says he later saw the big kid handing straw to Bud, who then threw it at Pixie. Now, that's just hilarious.

Rings on Her Fingers and Bells on Her Toes

Pixie's full name, loosely translated, means "Song of Joy." She has been quite the singer ever since she was a tiny little baby.

But, oh, baby, ever since she learned to walk (with confidence, that is)...

(The windows on the french doors make a great mirror).

She is our little dancin' machine. From "The Happy Dance" to ballet to worshipful getting down, we've seen it from Pixie.

If you look closely, you'll see Wombles is clutching a Lightning McQueen race car in one hand...while Pixie offers him the other end of her dancing-parade rope.

Which will he choose?

To S'bite one's...

Recently, we heard Wombles whimpering and fussing. Saying "Owie!!". Things like that.




On this particular day, no one had snatched a toy; knocked him over running /dancing by; or not given him food the instant he decided it was time (When he hears me say "I'm going to make lunch now," he climbs into his chair and starts demanding it. It's a new habit, only a couple of days old. It's making me crazy. Because obviously I still have to MAKE lunch, or whatever).

No, he was standing alone in the middle of the room.

He had been biting his own hand.

That's all. I was just struck by how very bizarre children can be, and thought I would share.

It reminded me of when Bud was about 16 months old; he bit Pixie, and we admonished him, "No biting, Bud! No biting." He looked me straight in the eye and bit his own hand. Nice.

Strong will, anyone?

Boys will be...laundry menaces

We had rain early last week. It was wonderful. I'll share more four-day stories later, but last Sunday (week) when J told me it was supposed to rain for the next few days, I started the slow-cry. I did not know I had been holding my breath during fire season, but the news that rain was coming (signaling the end of the season) overwhelmed me. I guess it's technically still fire season, but everything has had a good soak...we're not living in a tinder-box. I can breathe a little more easily.

Besides being very good news on the fire-front, it gave our boys a rare opportunity: MUD.


There's almost never mud. For me, as primary launderer, this is a good thing...although the sandbox is really just as bad. I decided that mud was in the "rare fun category" and let 'em rip.


There are reasons why in every load of laundry my boys average 3-4 outfits for every ONE of my daughter's.


Bud was happy to introduce Wombles to the delights. It's one of the jobs of a big brother, or so I understand.

Cabin Fever

We have been sick. Not terribly, painfully sick, but bad-cold-sore-muscle-headache-fever sick.

Let's be clear: I'd much rather blow noses than hold heads over bowls. We're OK.

But the serious-malaise sickness has gone on for four days now; no Bible Study Thursday morning (can't put sick kids in the nursery); J home from work Friday, and Pixie no Friday Night Noah's Club; Allll day Saturday; and no church today (fevers in so many directions). I think we're getting a little stir crazy. No, a lot.

At least there was football yesterday.

Wombles seems to know when it's Saturday; he wakes up and says "GeorgiaNotredamefootball!!!" And grabs his stuffed football and runs around the house playing against an imaginary defensive line. Yesterday he kept arguing (with a giggle) that MY Georgia shirt said "Notre Dame," and his Notre Dame shirt said, "Georgia." As a side note, he is really taking off verbally. At his 2-year checkup, in fact, his pediatrician was very pleased: "I would have expected the third child with two...chatty...older siblings would generally count on them to do the talking, and not talk so much himself. But he's really holding his own!" Bingo.

Wombles is terrific at holding his own, whether that's a Popsicle,



one of those special bathroom cleaning tools he grabbed while in the tub (eeew)



or a football.

He usually wears pants, I swear.

99-cents Asparagus

I will NOT tell you how long I spent searching my keyboard for the cent symbol. I began with a warm happy feeling of, "Yes! I get to use the cent symbol! I don't think I've ever used it before!". Then, a dark, growing sense of maybe, just maybe, that's because there isn't one. Nonsense. That would be so unfair...the dollar gets a space!

I have given up. If there is one, please don't tell me. But it seems ridiculous to spell out "cents." Also, I think it should be "99-cent" asparagus, but that plural (99, no less) induces me to use "cents". Obviously, I should be planning my Spanish lessons. Like you and everyone else, I have better things to do than figure out the two separate "cent" dilemmas (neither of which I was prepared for this evening).

I know at least one of my friends is an editor. Could you help...please?

All I wanted to do--really--was let you see what the Cov household looks like when Vons has asparagus on sale for 99 cents per pound.



It is so beautiful, you can use it instead of flower arrangements.


It looks very nice all lined up in mugs or pitchers.



It is so, so yummy.



This is how we could stand to throw some into quesadillas, for goodness' sake.

Oh, how I love asparagus.

This is the batch that J got late last week (#4, 350) when he was doing a late-night grocery store run (#4, 349). I had already gone earlier in the week and gotten plenty for me AND my friend.

Asparagus is one of God's special treats for us. Yum.

That's all. (See? The dilemmas came out of nowhere!!).

Reason #4,357

Jesse and I have a joke that started back when we were newlyweds. I think it started when there was something or other that I really, really didn't want to do...and he stepped in and did it for me. "That's why you buy one," he quipped. I protested--I couldn't buy one! My husband was priceless!



Months passed, and years. And the reasons "to buy one" just kept growing. Getting rid of spiders in the bathroom--#3. Calling the airline over some dispute--#137. Doing the driving on the road trip when I was really, really sleepy--#212. Shoveling the snow off the front walk so that I could get to the car--#564. That would have been at 6:45am. And on the day pictured below, I got all the way to school before I realized (thank you, empty parking lot!) that it was a snow day, and we could all have still been in bed. You can bet I didn't do THAT again.




Bringing me a banana and frosted mini-wheats in bed every morning for weeks when Pixie was on the way--#656. Cooking chocolate-frosted cupcakes on demand during the same time period--#670. A few months later, taking the diaper-changing duties in the middle of the night--#715.



And, just when you think there couldn't POSSIBLY be any MORE reasons to buy one (I have long since ceded the premise) out comes another one.

(No, not that he's in the kitchen making my very favorite drink right now--that was back several dozen spots on the list.)

No, reason #4,357 arose today at lunchtime. You know, following the on-the-way-home-from-church moment when I say, "I wonder what we're having for lunch today...do you have ANY ideas?" because I'm pretty distracted trying to keep Wombles from taking his entire nap on the way home, and because I'm pretty sure there aren't any leftovers I can heat up.

Reason #4, 357 to buy one is that he will, on just such a day, whip up yummy chicken quesadillas with ASPARAGUS and special sauce. And they will be wonderful.

Reason #4, 358 (FYI) is that when you tell him, as he cooks, that you just had a fun idea for a blog post, he laughs like this:



I love you, J!

The Fences are Down!

Last Saturday I was going on about Home Depot, and I didn't mention a very important item. October 3rd was Nite-Nite's birthday! Now, in case you don't know who Nite-Nite is, here is one of our early family photos (he's in green):



Did I say one of our photos?? Here are a few more while I keep looking for the one I was talking about:


We knew early on that Pixie was extremely attached to Nite-Nite. That's how he got his name.

We became afraid that she would wear Nite-Nite out from overuse, so we thought we should save him for bedtime only. "He's for Night-Night," we would say. "Just for Night-night time."

(We told her, at the time, that his name was Mr. Frog. Because we'd both been beaten with the creativity stick.)

She named him Nite-Nite.

My parents found a NN's twin for her, to try to spread the love around...but it came with a sound box inside. If you squeeze him then he makes a "ribbit" noise. Very cute.

And very fake. Pixie would just give a squeeze, feel the non-bean-bag belly, and toss it. "No wakey Nite-nite!!"

I have kept it, so that if Nite-nite goes the way of mortal flesh I can sew a bean bag inside.

OK, I can't find the early crib shot of Pixie with NN. I found those other ones while looking, though, and while perusing old photos and videos of my girl I have re-fallen in absolute love with her. I'm totally smitten. Even now, when she's experimenting with different attitudes.

You never know what your sweet baby's lovie is going to be. Thank you, Katie S., my 8th grade Spanish student in 2002-2003. Pixie still loves her Nite-nite.

Which is why we had a birthday party for him last Saturday (he was turning one...don't ask). We all agreed that nothing could make a little froggy happier than a Nile River cake.



I'm afraid the Mediterranean Sea had seen further damage from Bud by this point. And, Upper Egypt had gone home with our friends. Still, we had a great party.

Another party I'm looking forward to is about 3 weeks away...when we celebrate all of our neighbors moving home again. This post is a good example of how easily I am distracted these days. It started off to be a fences-down post (and I will stubbornly leave the title). I had the great pleasure of having Allison over at lunch today--these photos are of her house(s). We saw her drive in and Pixie asked if we could have her over for lunch, and went to extend the invitation herself. I'm loving this hospitality streak Pixie's been exhibiting (and painfully learning to get over my "I-must-have-the-house-clean-first" mentality.)

Anyway, here was Allison's house this morning, while the crew was taking down the fence:



And here was her house almost exactly 11 months ago:




And here it was 6 months ago:



Amazing, isn't it? Comparatively, things have gone very quickly ("comparatively" being the 14 houses on our street versus the remaining 257 or so total losses from the same fire). Looking back, I see that I didn't share many fire photos at the time. I will try not to go overboard, but I imagine the next 6 weeks or so are going to be a big processing stage for all of us around here. God has been so good...and it has been hard.

Have a great weekend!