Although I started a blog post on Saturday, I haven't finished it yet. Since Friday around lunch until early this afternoon we have been enjoying a visit from some friends from WTS days whom we haven't seen since...WTS days. Between our two families we have crisscrossed the country for PhD programs, jobs and callings of various flavors.
Now we are both on the West coast and had a chance to reconnect and introduce our (total of) 5 children. It was a great visit, and I look forward to a future co-camping trip somewhere in between our lovely cities!
For now, though, I'm going to be lazy (blog-wise. I've got 4-5 loads of laundry to fold...in front of Chocolat). I'm just going to post a link to L's blog, which offers a glimpse of some of the yumminess of our weekend.
And she brought some of the pumpkin bread and persimmon gingerbread, too! Oh, my word. I'm going to go get some of that gingerbread RIGHT NOW.
Here it is:
http://joininthefeast.blogspot.com/
I highly recommend all of the deliciousness. As a bonus, she gave me a chef's tip on how not to cut myself with a kitchen knife (this after I sawed through a fingertip--mine, that is--with a bread knife. Sheesh.)
Hope you're well. And I wasn't kidding about the gingerbread. 'Sta luego.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Post-Pumpkin (Or, the not-so-great)
It was so warm and sunny on Sunday morning that we brought our jack-o-lanterns in off of the front porch (which gets full morning sun). We wouldn't want them to rot! They can be cut up and cooked into yummy things!
So we brought them in...and today I noticed that Bud's was a little...saggy. Down in the mouth, or at heel, or whatever. Certainly not the fine, upstanding Jack we'd brought in.
I walked over for a closer look. The objects-formerly-known-as-pumpkins were each perched on top of a bookcase. I reached up to Bud's...and squish.
(This is the moment when I want the real grown-ups to swoop in and clean up my kid-style innocent make-a-mess; it really can't be MY job to clear a rotting pumpkin off of a shelf taller than I am..can it? Much less get the mushy, oozing mass out of the house without further casualties).
As there were no available grown-ups, I bagged the thing up and almost had it outside to the trash when I heard the pocket door open. It was Bud, in the midst of his quiet time, wondering what on earth I was doing. I tried to divert, but I needn't have bothered.
He was not traumatized by the loss of Jack. Oh, no. He just wanted to squish his fingers in there. So I took the bag into the backyard and turned him loose.
This is the super-rotten part he pulled off of the bottom.
That black stuff is not dirt. So. Gross.
So worth a half hour of bliss for him and quiet for me. I almost got through my Tim Keller sermon.
And there's always Pixie's equally blackened-with-mold but not quite yet supremely squishy pumpkin...for tomorrow.
So we brought them in...and today I noticed that Bud's was a little...saggy. Down in the mouth, or at heel, or whatever. Certainly not the fine, upstanding Jack we'd brought in.
I walked over for a closer look. The objects-formerly-known-as-pumpkins were each perched on top of a bookcase. I reached up to Bud's...and squish.
(This is the moment when I want the real grown-ups to swoop in and clean up my kid-style innocent make-a-mess; it really can't be MY job to clear a rotting pumpkin off of a shelf taller than I am..can it? Much less get the mushy, oozing mass out of the house without further casualties).
As there were no available grown-ups, I bagged the thing up and almost had it outside to the trash when I heard the pocket door open. It was Bud, in the midst of his quiet time, wondering what on earth I was doing. I tried to divert, but I needn't have bothered.
He was not traumatized by the loss of Jack. Oh, no. He just wanted to squish his fingers in there. So I took the bag into the backyard and turned him loose.
This is the super-rotten part he pulled off of the bottom.
That black stuff is not dirt. So. Gross.
So worth a half hour of bliss for him and quiet for me. I almost got through my Tim Keller sermon.
And there's always Pixie's equally blackened-with-mold but not quite yet supremely squishy pumpkin...for tomorrow.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
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!Friday, October 30, 2009
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!
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!
Sunday, October 25, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, October 23, 2009
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.
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?
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
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?
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?
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