Dreamers of Dreams

Happenings.

2012-01-31T20:43:00.000-06:00

Jake is playing for Lyric Theatre's production of Xanadu. It's all fun and games, but to sum it all up, he doesn't get home until 10:00 every night. It has a three-week run. We're almost to the half way point. I'm hanging in there, but I'm tired. It's 8:29, and I have cozily been tucked into my bed for the last 15 minutes. What can I say, I like my room.

Today I muscled my way into the post office with two packages, birthday invitations, a birthday card, and two girls. I feel like I expended half of the day's energy in those 15 minutes. I kicked the door to open it for Cora who was in front of me. Kicked is an overstatement, it was more of a strong nudge with my foot because one arm was carrying Magnolia and the other one was carrying a club pack sized box of diapers and the other box. I overestimated the weight of the door. It was really loud when it hit the wall. Whatever. I don't think anyone cared when they saw me come in.

I might as well confess that the birthday card and one of the packages was for my mom's birthday, which is tomorrow. Which means I have epically failed at timing this one. And when I got back to the car, I realized I forgot to put the Mr. Goodbar in. Strike 2.

Cora has been writing stories at school. Well, she draws a pictures, and then tells her teacher the story of the picture while her teacher writes it down. They are amazing! But wouldn't you know, our scanner is being ridiculous, I mean, it's just straight up dead. I can't wait to scan them all to share.

To conclude:

Dear Salsa,

If loving you is wrong...

I refuse to be right.

Dear Robyn

2012-01-25T14:48:00.001-06:00

To the one who introduced me to Ace of Base when she would take me to 2nd grade in her old skool Datsun wagon - which would be so freaking rad now. Who saved me from nearly being hit by a car when crossing Brown on our way home from 7-Eleven. Who gave me asthma from her second-hand smoke (Don't worry, I forgive you. It was before all the research came out about how toxic it is - and you tried to keep it contained in your room). And to the one who introduced me to the counter scraper that Pampered Chef is probably most famous for...

I can't believe you're gone. Like literally the shock hasn't worn off yet. I have so many really fond memories of you. Like how you showed me that Taco Bell had green sauce, and you could order it and they would give it to your for free. Piping hot in its own little container. I'm sure you're the reason why they now have salsa verde in their famous little packets.

You lived with my mom and I when you were pregnant with Kailei. She was your first girl after three boys. The first time I saw her, I fell in love with her. She had the sweetest little chubby face and so much black hair on top of her head. I kept her baby picture with me for a long time. She slept with you every night, and when I asked you if you were ever afraid you would roll over on top of her, you said "No because I just always know where she is." When I had my own babies and they slept so cozy next to me, I understood exactly what you meant.

Your life wasn't easy. It was full of choices and occurrences that led to really hard lessons. I've so enjoyed reconnecting on facebook over the last few years. You were cheerful and optimistic. It seemed you were in the middle of trying to make a happy ending for yourself. I'm sorry you had to go during this time in your life.

I still think of the pictures that went up our stair case. Some were my mom's, some were yours. Your kids, your siblings, you. They're all still framed and hanging in my memory. And you so young and beautiful will be etched in my heart and mind forever. Godspeed.

BrieAnn

My extended family has experienced two losses in the last week. One week ago today marks the day I received a text saying that my cousin Tisha's husband had passed away. In my old* age I seem to cry less. I've become much more of an internalizer of emotion. But receiving that news was such a huge blow. Tears came instantly. My heart broke for my cousin. They have a son who is two months older than Cora. I couldn't imagine trying to explain to Cora why Jake wouldn't be around anymore. That coupled with the tragic way he passed completely overwhelmed me.

I'd been following the updates about services and the family that my cousin Robyn, Tisha's oldest sister had been providing, and praying for the family constantly. Kimmel's (Tisha's husband) funeral was yesterday. I called my mom yesterday evening to see how things went, and she told me that we had another tragedy. I instantly thought something was wrong with my Grammy because she hadn't been feeling well, and I knew my mom had taken her to the doctor on Monday. It wasn't Grammy.

She told me that Robyn passed away earlier in the day. It's so tragic - certainly enough to break a heart in two several times over. I'm so sorry for the family. And for my Aunt Brenda who is now part of that exclusive club that no mother ever wants membership in - outliving your children.

God be with you till we meet again. When life's perils thick confound you, put His arms unfailing round you. God be with you till we meet again.

I'm Dwelling On This

2012-01-24T23:15:00.001-06:00

"There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. ... No artist is pleased. [There is] no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others."

Martha Graham to Agnes de Mille

Weekly Menu and a Partial Shopping List

2012-01-18T14:01:00.002-06:00

I'm pretty excited about this weeks menu. There are some oldies but goodies and some newbies I've been looking forward to trying. [I really did just say oldie, newbie, and goodie in the same sentence.]

The mail just got here. I love our mail carrier. When I was putting Christmas lights on our house, he was eating lunch in his mail car with a perfect view of what was happening. It made me feel good to know that someone would be able to offer assistance if I needed it, and it made me feel a little self-conscious because I was pretending to be way taller than I am in order to make the 6 ft. ladder work. On the second day of my pursuits, he delivered our mail and told me, with a smile, I was being dangerous. It's good to know your mail carrier has your back. I might leave him a valentine in our box.

I went to the Midtown Y for the first time today. What in the world?!? It's amazing. Super beyond amazing. My favorite, hands down. It's small and cute, and the girl in charge of the child watch is a student of Child Development at UCO. And her and her husband just became vegetarian. She looks really familiar to me, and I to her, but we couldn't come up with a connection. Anyway, I even did some strength training. Like on the machines. Which I never do. Because I didn't ever want to sit at one and go "uh-buh." But today I didn't care. And I rocked some leg presses [and other things] in an attempt to work my bottom half.

My cardio for the day was some interval work on the treadmill. I went for 30 minutes and like 2.5 miles, I think. I laughed about it. My record time/distance was 19-ish minutes for 3.1 miles. I mean, this very body that I still occupy did that once upon a time. I already confessed to someone the other day that I don't like running much [at all]. I really want to, sort of. Is it one of those mind over matter things? Tomorrow is yoga - my real true love. [Unfortunately not at the Midtown. Unfortunately not less than a mile from my house. I will drive those 25 minutes with pride, though.]

Yoga and Mother Guilt

2012-01-17T22:01:00.000-06:00

The first critical paper I ever wrote was during my junior year in high school. The book was the Scarlet Letter, the topic was our own to choose. The title of my paper ended up being Guilt: the Ultimate Destroyer of the Human Soul.

Fast forward to last year some time. I'd been a faithful Y[MCA] member,but Magnolia was in the middle of teething. She would cry and cry when I left her in child care. My attendance grew more spotty until finally I didn't go at all. For a long time. All the while the membership fee was being automatically deducted from our account each month. That last point made me feel guilty on two points. Guilty for leaving my child and guilty for the frivolity of an unused gym membership.

(Magnolia is into dressing up)

Well then Cora started school in August. I couldn't begin to imagine dedicating mornings to me when she would have to get to school in the afternoon. Would it be too much? I went to Yoga a few Saturdays ago with the girls. I got called out 20 minutes in because Magnolia had been crying for 10 minutes. The next Saturday, I left them with Jake and couldn't decide why in The world we were paying for a family membership to get "free" child care if I didn't want to go unless I left them home. Blah.

(Googli McGoogerson)

Sigh.

I went today. Like I got up early, we got the girls fed and dressed, and then I looked up the times for child watch at the Midtown and Downtown Y's, was disappointed and drove 20 minutes to Bethany where it started a little earlier and where yoga was offered at the perfect time. I spent a little time on the elliptical, then went to yoga. 30 minutes in, I had to go change Magnolia's diaper. She smiled when I left, and I got back just in time for corpse pose. It was wonderful. We fit everything in. No guilt.

(Cora climbing at the children's area in the Boathouse District on MLK Day - part of the Devon Boathouse in the background)

One of my big secrets, you know, in case you thought I was perfect or something, is that sometimes when go to bed at night I'm terrified because I know when I wake up I'll have no idea what I'm supposed to do with myself. Like sure the tasks that get our family through each day, like food and diapers and cleaning up little messes, but will I learn something new? Will I have made this day count? Will I have wasted too much time on things that mattereth not? Will I have contributed to making my childrens' childhood a happy one - the stuff dreams are made of? Sometimes being in charge of my own time is completely liberating, but also completely debilitating.

(She's really into doing "tricks." This is one of them. "Hey Mom, watch this trick," and it's usually followed by hopping on one foot or doing something similar to the tree pose.)

Tonight when Jake got home, we exchanged hellos and goodbyes and I went out the door to visit someone from church. I really enjoyed the visit, and when I got home, I pulled into the garage, began making my way down the sidewalk to our house, and it hit me. No, not the BIG answer to everything...

The smell of Downy, coming from our dryer vent. The whole corner [Dot lives on a corner] smelled like our clean warm clothes. And suddenly the guilt lightened a little because of the bit of structure I added to the day for me. I've been starting to think about what I want to do with myself after my girls are a little older, you know, my career. It's been exhilarating and terrifying, mostly for the guilt thing, because guilt is the ultimate destroyer of the human soul. Live more deliberately, less timidly. And if deciding to go to the Y can help me do this, then I'm hoping my muffin top and saddlebags will start headin' for the hills.

Pitter-patter

2012-01-14T10:44:00.001-06:00

Leap pad in one hand, Bear in the other. I love observing her quiet little moments.

PS: Magnolia slept through the night for the first time ever last night. 7-6:45. 19 months might be the charm.

Grocery List

2012-01-11T08:39:00.001-06:00

Gentrification and slumlords

2012-01-10T14:59:00.000-06:00

I've been writing this post in my head ever since I dropped one of Cora's friends off at her house. She'd been randomly left at the park with me while her mom took her two little sisters home to get a head start on dinner. When I walked up to the house, I instantly noted the tattered blinds, the boarded up attic windows, and the way it stuck out like a sore thumb on the block, well, it and the two houses on either side. All three are white, with some sort of window boarded up somewhere.

I took my suspicions to the county assessor site, entered the address, and low and behold, the house is owned by someone who lives in one of the more prominent areas of the city. So were the other two. This person owns 25 properties around the city, including their own home in Quail Creek and a commercial property on Western. I've looked at several of these properties, and they all look pretty much like this (except for their personal property of course - and for real, are the following properties (plus several others) this person's dirty little secret when they drive through their neighborhood and up to their home every night?):

(Imagine this one without shutters because that's what nearly 7 years worth of more dilapidation has done)

(I wish this front door belonged to Dot)

(I think it looks festive enough...)

What's my point?

Our neighborhood is an historic neighborhood that has largely undergone the gentrification process. Home values range from ours (not too much) to the multimillion dollar range. This is the neighborhood where all of the first movers and shakers of the city lived. It went through had times, but overall, people have moved back and proudly made it there own. But there are still the property owners that bought several of the homes when they were going for nothing, and then they didn't do much with them, and I'm sure they have no intention to. Easy money. They don't live in this community, they have no investment in it (expect that they own part of it).

Why does this yank my chain? The obvious answer is that this is my community and I care about it. But that's not it. I know it doesn't have to me this way. Before moving to Chicago, Jake and I lived in a lovely duplex in Jefferson Park, one block east of the Paseo (the city's self-proclaimed Art's district). Our property owner owned our building and three others down the street. She flipped a home across that street that Jake and I loved before we ever even moved into our duplex. She single-handedly revitalized an entire block in a vulnerable part of town. And way before it was cool to live there, mind you. Dianna Harding, you are a pioneer of revitalization.

(Our old duplex on Hudson)

She bought low and reinvested money into the properties and inevitably the community. When we moved back from Chicago, we lived in another one of her homes in a different neighborhood. It used to be the eyesore on the block, but she made it lovely. Her rent isn't ridiculous, and aside from our one CRAZY neighbor who lived below us in the duplex for a few months, she has wonderful tenants. And she doesn't charge over the top rent. In the last email I shared with her, she was excited that three of her duplexes were going to be paid off soon so she could rebuild the garage behind our old duplex. She's an exception, I know.

Our post Chicago house before Dianna got it.

After (I wish I had a better picture)

I want to know is if there's a way for a community to stand up for its homes. Can it put pressure on landlords who don't care to fix up the homes to the standards of the neighborhood?

Disclaimer: I don't think that renters are bad, not in the least. I just wish property owners would take care of their properties and add to a community rather than take away from it.

Resolutions 2012

2011-12-31T22:11:00.001-06:00

I resolve to:

1. Not Retreat
I'm going to make it a point to be around more people more often. I'm also not going to shy away from my self because I'm afraid of certain reactions

2. Love More [Be kinder]
I really do love people - I want my thoughts to better reflect that.

3. Find Joy [more consistently]
Pray more, read more, meditate more

4. Make Dot Spot my very own
During Christmas break in Holdenville, while munching on some Chinese food, someone opened a fortune cookie that said, "Those afraid of doing too much often do too little." I know pretty much what I want every room to feel like, and what I want to the outside to look like, but I've yet to get anything completely complete. I'm not going to be afraid of how much I want to do. Fear in any form is paralyzing. Did you know someone wrote their name in our driveway and dated it 1940? Someone did, and I bet they were proud and could never imagine that some day in 2011, a little family like mine would belong to what they belonged to. They did their part to make Dot their own. It's my turn.

5. Lose the friggin' muffin top that is dun-loppin' over my jeans.
This is self explanatory. Like literally since Thanksgiving my midsection has been exploding.

Son of Mary. Son of God.

2011-12-15T14:15:00.001-06:00

Patty Griffin wrote a song called Mary. The chorus:

Jesus says, "Mother I couldn't stay another day longer." Flies right by and leaves a kiss upon her face. While the angels are singing his praises in a blaze of glory, Mary stays behind and starts cleaning up the place.

In the last few years, the significance of Mary has increased for me. I've lately been thinking of her when I hear the verse, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life" (John 3:16). Most people reference this in terms of the anguish that must have been God's at seeing his son's abuse and death at the hands of those he was sent to save. I think of Mary, the mother who grew this son in her womb, birthed him, raised him, the woman who bore divinity in both body and spirit, who lacked God's omniscient mind, who stood at the foot of the cross and watched her son, in agony, take his last breath.

I love her for allowing her son to live the life he did, play the role of teacher, be an example of charity and loving-kindness. I would have been so proud of his ambitions, but I also would have held him so close if I would have lived in the political/religious climate of the time. I'm sure she knew his life transcended this world, but I know it didn't make the sting in her heart burn any less.
____________________________________

I was sitting on the counter in our kitchen when I was in late in my elementary school career, talking on the phone with one of my best friends. We started talking about Jesus, and she said, "God loves Jesus more than any of us because he's his only begotten, so there's really no point if we're always going to be loved second best." I'd never thought about that before, and it made sense because I really didn't know what "only begotten" meant.

This idea stuck with me into high school, and for a girl growing up without a father around, God was who I had. And if he knew everything about me and who I wanted to be, I didn't want to be loved less. When I was a sophomore, I finally had a discussion with my bishop, who was also my cross country coach, so we saw a lot of each other (in the LDS church, a bishop is like the head pastor of a congregation, only he doesn't preach every Sunday). The clarification for "only begotten" was a simple one. Everyone on earth has a biological mother and father, Jesus's biological father just happened to be God, hence only begotten of the father. The real magic was how this transformed Jesus for me if I didn't have to always be second best in the eyes of God. There's no competing with Jesus, right? Right. I was an only child, go ahead and call me selfish when it comes to love.

Jesus is my brother in humanity and brother in divinity as God is the father of all spirits.

I'm hoping to spend between now and Christmas writing about the roles Jesus Christ plays in my life and understanding.

After the Rain

2011-12-14T22:51:00.000-06:00

This afternoon was warm and sunny. This whole week has been grey and cold and rainy, so we took advantage of the sunshine. After Cora got home from school....okay, wait, I can't go on without an omission:

I was up later than usual last night talking to a cousin, Magnolia's waking up ended our conversation, so I ended up going to bed sometime after midnight and before one. I took Cora to school, Goo and I came home and took a nap. My alarm went off at 2:40 like it does every day so I know that I need to stop what I'm doing and start getting everything together to go pick Cora up from school. I'm snoozing, my alarm goes off. I lie there for a few minutes and then look at the clock. 3:20!!! You have got to be kidding me! I totally fell back asleep and didn't even know I had. (Carpool starts at 2:55.) I picked up Magnolia, didn't even put her shoes on (but I did grab them), and we walk-ran to Staci car.

It's 3:26, and I'm stopped at 30th and Shartel when my phone starts ringing. It's Cora's teacher. And it's official. Carpool has ended, it's worse than being the last car in-line. There is no line. Which is kind of crazy, because some days I don't even make it out of carpool with Cora in tow until 3:30, and there are still several cars behind me. Anyway, on the day carpool goes by with super-human speed, I am late. I pulled up at 3:28. Cora is waiting with her teacher in the office. It's all good.

Ah-hem: After Cora got home from school, we loaded up in the stroller and headed off for the grocery store to get the two ingredients we needed for dinner. We really just needed black beans, but two cans of them. We left with black beans and pickles...and some plain ol' peppermint Orbit gum because it's getting harder to find. Wintermint is all kinds of taking over. We'd also packed some holiday treats to give to some of our neighbors.

The real fun was the park. The first friend's home we stopped at was before the park, and she gave me some towels to wipe the swings off with as it had been raining. I was happy to see that there was no wiping required when we arrived. As it turns out, lots of people had been getting out to enjoy the day just as we were. We spent a while playing and talking with new friends. When it was time to leave, the sun and wispy clouds were making a beautiful sunset. Cora loved all of the pink clouds. I loved the warm glow. We stopped in at some neighbors on our block, Cora raced with Pineapple (aka Megan). They love each other. I love being outside after it's rained.

When we walked to our home, it was all lit up and cozy. Jake was home early. I LOVE when I get to walk into a non-empty house. He'd made dinner. Sloppy Joes. They were great. I ate two...and a half...no less than 20 minutes after I'd discussed the re-emergence of the love handles on my back with my afore mentioned neighbors. (Jenn Tupps, I have one package left for you, but I'd rather stop by when you're home.)

The girls went to bed easily. I have high hopes, as I do every night, that Magnolia will pull an all-nighter asleep in her bed. She had her 18-month check up yesterday. She is TERRIFIED of the nurse because of the whole shot thing. When she sees her, she falls a part. So, we didn't really get an accurate height and weight. Like I was weighed by myself and then with her because she wouldn't hang out on the scale. She's rollin' around 20 pounds, and she's just under 30 inches tall, but that was taken as she was lunging out to me. All that adds up to her still being right around the sixth percentile, where she's been since her two week appointment. She got one shot and had some blood drawn. The nurse called me with the results (right as I was drifting off in nap land) of the blood work and she is right in the middle of the normal range for her hemoglobin concentration and hematocrit levels (i.e., she's not anemic). She's healthy and happy and sassy as all get-out.

Eternal Flame

2011-12-11T21:23:00.001-06:00

During our last year-and-a-half of undergrad, Jake and I lived in a teeny tiny apartment complex called Waverly Gardens just north of Nichols Hills. Every day we would make the trek from our little home to OCU down the same path. We'd make our way to Wilshire, over to Western, passed Chesapeake, and eventually onto Classen, rounding the big curve around a small neighborhood and Rose Hill Burial Park until we we saw Belle Isle Station. Every time we did this, we'd pay homage to small oil/natural gas site (I have no idea what it really is) marked by a flame. We lovingly named it "Eternal Flame" because it never went out.

When we were in Chicago, everyone started talking about the Classen curve. I had no idea why this stretch of road had become so significant to people. The most significant part to us was that flame. I mean, we gave it a sort of theme song and everything. When we moved back, we saw what everyone was talking about. Our beloved stretch of morning commute had been developed into a series of restaurants and stores called none other than the Classen Curve. There's even a counterpart across the street called the Classen Triangle that has a Whole Foods and will be getting an Antropologie.

Every time I drive through there now, I can't help but admire the great use of the curve and the fabulous architecture that makes that little spot in the city so interesting. In all of it's new awesomeness, the best part is still seeing that flame, and while not super hip, it survives.

Here's to you, Eternal Flame.

If it wasn't this

2011-12-08T19:12:00.001-06:00

I hate wishing away time. I am very aware of how fleeting it is, how one never gets it back, and how much I'll miss certain points in my life.

This week is testing all of the above.

I'll just talk about today and you can multiply that by the four, as it is only Thursday.

My Visiting Teachers were coming over this morning (in the LDS church, each woman is assigned two other women from the congregation (visiting teachers) to come and visit her, or at least check in monthly to make sure she's doing okay). The house looked like we'd been out running errands all week. So I was tidying up. That went all right. The girls were playing especially well with one another. I needed to take a shower because I didn't take one the day before (honesty, Folks). I jumped in, jumped out, got ready, and I walked into Cora's room.

It was insanity. Toys were everywhere on the floor. Cora had been in her closet on top of the bin I store clothes that Magnolia will grow into. She'd pulled down so many things from the shelves in her closet. I honestly didn't care about the mess. I cared about the little mouse bait block that was missing from behind the afore mentioned bin. It's in a completely childproof container, but I couldn't find it. Everything is falling a part.

Doorbell.

Visiting teachers are here, children are crying. Cora is crying because she knows she did something she shouldn't have, Magnolia is crying because Cora is crying. After everyone gets in and sits down, I explain what's going on, and sweeter than sweet, they volunteer to help clean Cora's room to see if we can find the block. The room gets picked up. No block. We go and visit for a while. They leave.

It's lunch time and Cora is off to school. I come home and put Magnolia to bed, and then because Magnolia has been up a million times a night this week, I indulge in a nap. I went into Cora's room to do it. I move a stack of folded quilts, and go to lie down, and realize I'm on something. It's the bait block! Phew. I rest in peace until my alarm goes off that it's time to pick up Cora.

In the carpool line, I get a text from a friend that her girls will be caroling with their school at Whole Foods, which is close to our house. Great! It's in a fun area near Chesapeake with lots of gorgeous Christmas lights. We get home, have a snack, play for a little while. I make dinner and intermittently try to change the bulb in our headlight. That was a no-go, but we get through dinner and out the door in time to pick Jake up from work and drop him off to go Home Teaching (each family in the congregation is assigned two men to do the same thing as visiting teachers - they're called home teachers) and get to Whole Foods.

We got there a little before the caroling began and before all the kids were there. I asked one of the workers where the caroling would be and she said, "Oh, you must be thinking of the Chesapeake area right behind Whole Foods." and pointed me in the direction. There were no carolers there, but there was a gigantic winter wonderland full of kids playing on hills of fake snow. Of course, Cora wanted to do that. I asked another lady at a Whole Foods table about the carolers and she told me they were in fact in the store and someone was working on getting them organized. We went back, found a table, built some dollhouses out of napkins, saw some old friends, and then the caroling merriment began.

All was well. For two songs. And then Cora, who was dancing and having fun, burst into tears because she wanted to go play with the other kids on the snow. OMGee. The crying ensued. When we were on our way, I told her we were going to get a piece of cake while we were there. I brought up the cake, and after a minute or two, she decided we would go pick our perfect piece. She picked carrot cake.

We made our way back to the front to the check out and where the carolers were. Smiles and carrot cake. Phew. This was going to work out. I reach for my wallet. That's right.

NO WALLET. The eldest of my daughters loves gum and knows how to work zippers. When I was getting Jake's spaghetti together to take with us so he could eat on the go, I came back into the living room and found both girls huddled around my purse. I got them both gum, restored the contents of my purse that were on the couch, and we were off.

We walked our perfect piece of carrot cake back to where we found it, Cora cried more about the snow, and we just walked right on out of that store to the tune of Oklahoma Rising. Crying all the way home. We walk in the door, and I see the strap of my wallet peaking out from under my nursing cover, both on the floor. Crying Crying Crying.

Potty.
Jammies.
Goo to bed.
Cora story.
Kisses.
Prayers.

Now I'm blogging. I'm trying to forget about the dishes. Magnolia has been sending out a little cry every now and again, but I hope she'll settle in for good. Jake has been out late each night this week. I don't want to be someone who is completely dependent on the idea someone being home, but again, this week is testing that. And really, I'm upset at myself that I find it all so frustrating. Sure I feel like a single parent, but at least I get to be a stay-at-home single parent, right?

And I can't stop thinking about my sweet friend, Ryan, who has two sick little girls. Like lifelong sick, and all she wants is a sense of normalcy for her family between hospital stays and weak immune systems. Her youngest daughter, Lucy, is two months and in the hospital right now. Her oldest, Ellie Kate, is six and was supposed to perform in her first dance recital, but she got sick. Both girls have NKH. As I read through this mother of four's blog posts, my heart breaks for her broken heart. She wanted her whole family to be together to decorate their home for Christmas. She wanted Ellie Kate to dance, and Lucy to not be completely ravaged by the disease that her sister has been. She wanted a normal holiday season for her two sons. She's one of the strongest, most faithful women I've known. She puts complete trust in God, that he as at the helm of their lives and struggles, but with everything going so crazy, she is hurting right now. Please pray for the McLaughlin family.

I want to not be frustrated by the whining and the crying, and blah blah blah blah blah. Here's the real deal:

I feel really lonely. There, I said it. I've felt that way ever since we moved back to Oklahoma. Something is so different. I don't have the same constant circle of friends I loved so much. I know I can't expect everything to be the same, and I know I'm naturally pretty introverted and don't require a great deal of social interaction to feel complete (I've always called myself a natural loner), but I need some people. And with Jake's regular schedule, plus all of the things on top of it like rehearsals and recitals, it's just like...it's a lot. I suppose one of my resolutions for the new year, and perhaps before the year is out is to put myself out there a bit more. The funny thing about loneliness is the more you feel it, the more you withdraw which is the exact opposite of what makes lonely go away.

A Late Autumn Night

2011-12-07T20:23:00.001-06:00

I'm sitting in my front yard on one of our green retro chairs, admiring my handy work in the form of Christmas lights on Dot. She's covered in a few rows of warm white C9 lights. The big bulbs. She's vintage, you know. The front windows' blinds are open. The soft light and Christmas tree look so inviting. I love driving by homes that share their contents at night. Dot is generous. And oh so lovely.

I'm wearing fingerless gloves so I can type, but my fingers are freezing. According to weather.com, it's 32 degrees outside, feels like 26. I'm wishing my jeans didn't have holes in the knees.

Two of my neighbors just passed by. One is James. He reminds me of John Locke from lost. I like that he lives close and that we see him almost every day because he takes his dogs to exercise and train them at the school yard across the street from our house. The other is Jeanette. She has three little girls, all about a year and a half a part. The oldest, Megan, is a year older than Cora. When Megan found out that Cora's nickname was Coco, she nicknamed herself Pineapple. It's changed a few times. The last one I heard was Muffin. I like knowing neighbors. I want to get to know them better. I'm hoping someone majorly awesome will buy the house across the street.

As the leaves have fallen off the trees, more and more of the Devon Tower has made itself visible. I love it all lit up with its construction lights on every floor, and of course, the cranes. Some people have a view of mountains, others have a lake or the ocean, we have the Devon Tower, right out our front window. And it's beautiful. It's the biggest, brightest Christmas tree on Earth. Record breaking.

Well, my battery is running low, my fingers aren't very efficient anymore, and I'm still waiting for Jake to get home. But just on the other side of the yellow walls before me...there is hot chocolate.

Perfume

2011-12-05T21:25:00.001-06:00

I have an extremely sensitive sense of smell. I partially blame the intense morning sickness I've had with all three of my pregnancies on the amplified state of my nose's already amplified ability. I know this because things like trash bags and the scent of the kitchen floor (the glue under the linoleum perhaps - and no, I was not down sniffing it) sent me running for the bathroom. I still send up praises for Zofran in my prayers from time to time. I digress...

I love perfume. Beyond love it. And I'm in the market for a new scent. Upon graduating from college, it was between Light Blue (Dolce & Gabbana) and Princess (Vera Wang). I chose Princess. I liked its warm undertones. Most recently I've had Pretty (Elizabeth Arden), but my bottle has been dry for a couple of months.

In transitioning, I reverted back to an old standard, everyday scent: Sweet Pea (Bath and Body Works). It came out my freshman year of high school, and I thought it was perfect. It was a nice soft transition from the super fruity sweetness of Pearberry that had just been so popular, and that had been a major transition from the woodsy scent that everyone was wearing in the form of CK Be just before that. Sweet pea: soft, sweet, warm. It had been several years since I'd had any. It was like being reunited with an old friend.

Anyway, I have been taking home sample after sample from Sephora. I swear I'm going to have to start wearing disguises even though I've never asked the same person for a sample twice. I just haven't found the one yet. I really like Pretty, but I'm feeling restless.

Marc Jacobs Daisy and Lola have both been lovely. I like Daisy best, but only in its parfum form, the toilette version falls flat very fast on my skin. I also love Dior Addict, but it's very rich. I don't know that I could do it everyday. It's like Thierry Mugler Angel. I LOVE that perfume, but I feel like wearing it everyday would be something like eating chocolate everyday - too indulgent. The One (Dolce & Gabbana) had me at hello, but it's still a little heavy, though putting it on and going through the top notes through the bass notes makes me really happy.

Shout out to Happy (Clinique). You can't tell me you didn't love that one.

So on my last Sephora trip, I got a sample of Bright Crystal (Versace) on the recommendation of a friend and the girl working at Sephora. I also got J'adore (Dior). When I got home and put Bright Crystal on, it smelled so familiar. It only took me about two seconds to realize what it was. I received Pink Ice (Rue 21) as a Christmas gift last year. They are almost identical scents. I sprayed one on one wrist and one on the other, and the only difference was that Pink Ice was a little sharper and lasted a lot longer. Look at the packaging even (and both perfumes are tinted pink):

(Photo by Cassandra Kiser)

I did a google search to see if anyone else had uncovered this phenomenon. Apparently, I'm the only one so far. They both smell good. Props to Rue 21 for a fabulous imitation.

J'adore, though, J'adore has won me over. This is only the second day I've worn it, so I'm not entirely sure yet, but I can't believe I've never smelled it before. I guess it's not too surprising because I've never smelled the most popular fragrance in the world: Chanel Nº5. I have to admit it came across my radar because of the Charlize Theron ads. If only my legs were 6 inches longer, um, maybe more like a foot longer.

Is there a scent you swear by? Makes you feel ethereal? Pleases every little ounce of your aesthetics? Tell me.

PS: There is great irony in the fact that I am married to someone who cannot smell. Just the same as he in an accompanist married to someone who is afraid to sing in front of people. While the scent of my perfume gets lost on his missing sense, I get to pick his cologne: Perk. A couple of years ago, I discovered L'Homme by Yves Saint Laurent. It is heaven. Absolute heaven on a warm, beating neck. I've thought of wearing it on occasion.

PPS: Among others, I also sampled DKNY Pure. It was very creamy clean, and perfect for everyday (in case you're in the market), but I'm feeling a stronger floral component at this point in my life.

The Real Giver

2011-12-05T14:30:00.001-06:00

Cora: "Mom, make sure you pray to Jesus to ask Santa for a pink scooter. Because pink is my favorite color."

If only she knew what was hiding away in the trunk waiting for Christmas to arrive.

Occupy Movement

2011-12-01T20:38:00.001-06:00

I had high hopes for the Occupy Movement. The main premises of the movement are at the forefront of my ideals for social justice at the moment. Corporations should not be a powerhouse in government, and a nation cannot sustain itself if the gap between rich and poor continues to grow to rapidly, especially when the majority of a nation's wealth is in the hands of literally a fraction of a percent of the population. How did so few end up with so much? The correlation between corporations and the government seems pretty self-explanatory.

While I share the ideas, and was glad to see a movement come out with what I think is a big disaster in our society, Occupy's approach always rubbed me the wrong way. I didn't like that they were sleeping in parks. I didn't like that people were bringing them food. It felt like a waste of resources. I still want something to change in regard to the problems the movement presented. I want these things to be taken seriously, and more attention to be paid to them rather than tent cities. There was too much going on for a point of change to be made. With eviction notices popping up all over the country, I'm hoping that something meaningful can come. I just wanted to share a few thoughts on the issues. I enjoyed this talk that explains the pitfalls of a large economic gap on societies:

I feel there are misnomers thrown around that aren't accurate. I often hear that the government is money hungry, and I never know how to respond because I'm always like, "But wait, isn't the government a not-for-profit institution?"

Sure, there are shady politicians who like to slip a little extra in their pocket, but if they're in office, it's our fault. It's our fault in more way than one. The obvious reason is that they get our vote. But the less obvious one is being oblivious to where their campaign contributions come from. Corporations get so many people elected or in positions of power to secure the profits of the company. If we know where the contributions are coming from, we can see who that politician will ultimately be working for.

I've also heard a lot about how we're heading straight for socialism because of the government wanting to increase taxes on the wealthiest citizens. I believe the exact phrase is redistributing the wealth. And then I'm like, "But wait, that's part of what it [the government] does." That's how all communities have schools (even though there is drastic difference in quality), that's how there are roads across the nation, and how the elderly can have health care. Every little anything that isn't privately funded is a result of redistributed funds from the citizens of the country. The infrastructure of our country is aging, and with the present deficit and not much hope in terms of revenue, bridges will collapse, schools will crumble, communities will fail. Tax codes define how much is taken from what incomes, but those same codes that take also give breaks, and the breaks and loopholes in our country favor those with the most money, and those with the most money are a fraction of the majority of the American people.

This is a great video about the tax rate and prosperity of the 50's:

I feel like our lack of real interest in how everything works is how we got here. How did we let the power fall out of the hands of the majority of Americans and into the hands of those at the helm of profit driven companies who get all kinds of breaks but have no financial obligation to the country that has allowed them to get that way? How did we let really big things sneak by us? Why are so many adamantly defending 1% of the nations populace at the expense of the 99%? And if you think anyone you know is that 1%, you're probably mistaken. I read a great quote the other day that I feel is fitting.

"There is a cult of ignorance in the United States, and there always has been. The strain of anti-intellectualism has been a constant thread winding its way through our political and cultural life, nurtured by the false notion that my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge."

--Isaac Asimov

And another one because I love it (this was said in protest to the recent budget plan congress would have been willing to pass if presented by the Super-Committee. I think we probably all heard that the plan did not pass):

"This country does in fact have a serious deficit problem. But the reality is that the deficit was caused by two wars -- unpaid for. It was caused by huge tax breaks for the wealthiest people in this country. It was caused by a recession as result of the greed, recklessness and illegal behavior on Wall Street. And if those are the causes of the deficit, I will be damned if we're going to balance the budget on the backs of the elderly, the sick, the children, and the poor. That's wrong."

--Senator Bernie Sanders, VT

Simple.

2011-11-30T18:44:00.003-06:00

I'm baking bread tonight. We had a simple dinner, a soup we call Winter Pottage. It's one of my very favorites. My favorite foods always seem to be the simplest combinations. The bread didn't get done to go with the meal, but it will be a nice treat for Jake and Cora when they get home from the Wednesday night activity with the youth of our church. Jake goes every week as part of what he does for church, but Cora really wanted to go tonight, and I'm glad she was able to. All I know is someone needs to bottle the sent of this bread baking. Dear Bath and Body Works, give me a portion of the profits. Thanks.

I went Christmas shopping after I dropped Cora off at school. I was going to look at something in particular, a bike, but we're going to hold off and get her that for her birthday. I spent over 30 minutes wandering around Target, and when I was getting in line to check out, I looked in the basket and saw that it was empty. It was a miracle.

I did run into a mom of one of Cora's classmates. I was telling her I had no idea what to get for Magnolia (Cora got a kitchen and an easel for her second Christmas, but she was four months older than Magnolia at this point - which is a lot). She told me her daughter loved a little dog called Violet, and I asked her to take me to it! It was love at first sight. I didn't get it because I didn't want her to know we had it, but it is on sale right now, so I need to sneak away childless before the week is out. I also wanted to look at the reviews on Amazon (I'm crazy like that), and apparently all children who have this little dog love it. If you're still looking for the perfect gift for your little tot, Violet by LeapFrog. I think it's going to be a hit. [There's also a green one named Scout.]

Winter Pottage

2 TBL oil
1 large onion, diced
1 cup carrots, chopped
1 cup celery, chopped
pinch of salt
5 1/2 cups broth or water
1 large sweet potato, cubed
1/2 cup rutabaga, peeled and chopped
1 cup cabbage, sliced
1 cup broccoli
1-2 dashes of garlic powder
salt and pepper to taste

Heat oil over medium in stock pot. Add onions, carrots, celery, and pinch of salt. Cook 7-8 minutes to soften.
Add broth/water, sweet potato, rutabaga and cabbage.
Simmer 20 minutes or until sweet potato and rutabaga are tender.
Add broccoli and cook 5 minutes.
Salt and pepper to taste.
Enjoy.

Simple Whole Wheat Bread

Waiting

2011-11-29T20:04:00.003-06:00

My great uncle is dying. Dementia began invading his mind a few years ago. Last week he had a stroke, and because of his DNR and his now inability to feed himself, he is in his final days. He hasn't had any food since Saturday, so it's just a matter of time. I keep hearing things about his heart. They say it's strong. It's keeping him alive.

Magnolia was lying across my lap tonight as I was rocking her to sleep. I put my hand on her chest to feel her little heart beating. It was there so strong and consistent, doing just what it's supposed to do. Doing what Uncle Bud's has done so well for over 86 years now. The heart that started beating before he took his first breath, when he occupied the womb of his mother. The heart made by his mother and father. Beating and beating and beating away. It's such a strange feeling that everyone is waiting on it to stop doing the only thing it knows how to do. But its time will come, his time will come. And the hope I carry with me is that his mind and spirit and body will all be restored to a perfect form.

I've been working on a piece of writing for years, all centered around something Uncle Bud asked Grammy in a letter years ago, "When did we become the oldest generation?" All of my great aunts and uncles are my "gentle giants." I love them deeply and dearly. And they are all falling. I know I've been lucky. They've all lived long full lives, and no one can dwell on earth forever, but the world feels a little sadder without their presence. I miss them breathing the same air as me. I am without words to describe my gratitude for memories, and I hope that nothing will take them away from me.

A Cake.

2011-11-29T10:42:00.005-06:00

Yesterday was Jake's 27th birthday. I wanted to do something great for him. I had an idea for the perfect present, but decided to hold off a bit. After some thinking about what to do instead, I had it!

I was going to make him a German Chocolate Cake.

It's his favorite, and he hasn't had any in the almost year since we've adopted a vegan diet. I made my weekly menu because we were in desperate need of a grocery shopping trip, and then I started searching for the perfect recipe. I found it really fast. I knew it was perfect because it was from the recipe book of a tea room in New York called Alice's Tea Cup.

[Click on the picture for a link to the recipe]

As soon as we got to the store, the girls went into meltdown mode. We had to get in and get out, an they didn't even have the Christmas lights we wanted, so I coaxed Cora into going to Target to see if they had any lights. Nope. I called every store I could think of in OKC, and nobody has white LED C9 lights. I digress, needless to say, a trip to Whole Foods to get unsweetened dairy-free chocolate was out, so I didn't make the ganache that the recipe calls for. It was okay.

I was literally in the kitchen for over 3 hours between dinner and this cake. My perfectionist streak was going full force. Luckily Magnolia took a long nap. I've never been a fan of German Chocolate Cake, mostly the coconut frosting, but I can't even begin to describe how amazing the frosting was. I could have eaten the whole bowl full with a spoon. Who needs chocolate when you have that frosting? Yes, I just said that.

Cora was in charge of decorating our house. We made paper chain garlands. Just before he got home, we turned out all of the lights because Cora wanted to surprise him. Surprise, check. We ate one of our favorite chili recipes as per Jake's request. I ate mine super fast. I was so giddy about what was waiting in the fridge.

When the time came, Cora spilled the beans, Jake's jaw dropped, and we feasted on this cake that was literally worth its weight in gold, though not before we sang Happy Birthday and he blew out the candles. In the midst of cake eating, I asked Jake a question...There is an amazing bakery in his hometown, Kalico Kitchen, and they make the best of everything...I asked him how this cake compared to theirs. Without hesitation, he said, "It's way better."

And I decided that was a good way of describing Jake. Of all the things in the world that are great, he is way better.

Memory

2011-11-20T21:41:00.002-06:00

All the things we talk about
You know they stay on my mind.

Good Charlotte was pretty much the it band my senior year. Aside from the songs that made it big, two that didn't were my favorites. They were both tied to random afternoon encounters with different people I went to school with. The first is Say Anything, and the second, Emotionless.

I was a self-proclaimed radio junkie back then. I don't listen to music all that much anymore. I mean, I do, but nothing like back then. Maybe it's because the freaking bad you-know-what women of my adolescence are no longer injecting me with their lyrics. I miss their voices: Sarah McLachlan, Jewel, Paula Cole, Fiona Apple, Natalie Merchant, Lisa Loeb, Lauryn Hill, Shawn Colvin, Tracy Chapman, Sinead O'Connor, and others. I'm glad Sheryl Crow has managed to stick it out. And I try to branch out, really, I do, but today's artists just don't do it for me like the ones who led the 90's into the 00's. It wasn't just the ladies. Counting Crows, Coldplay, Hootie and the Blowfish, complete awesomeness.

I guess I'm just stuck in a time warp. I'm okay with it. Except that I'm not. My generation completely lost the ball. There are a few great artists out there, but for heaven's sake, we literally became adults as the Iraq war was born, and where were our civil unrest anthems? I've been listening to Woody Guthrie's Dustbowl Ballads. We have way more to be singing about than the superficial buzz that everyone buys into.

I miss songs that I actually want to have in my head for decades because they mean something - they added meaning to my experiences. Some of my best memories are unconsciously set to a soundtrack. I guess I should finally really learn how to play guitar.

On My Mind

2011-11-18T08:56:00.002-06:00

Five years ago, on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, I found out I was pregnant for the first time. I was overflowing with joy. I told everyone I saw. I even told random strangers because I couldn't help myself. We'd been trying for a little while, and the negative results in the previous months has been devastating.

The timing was perfect. Tell all of the family on Thanksgiving. It was what we were grateful for. In early December, morning sickness sank in and stayed with me for weeks. We were able to go to Arizona for Christmas, and it was wonderful to share our joy with my family in person.

On New Year's Day, everything started to come a part. I wrote about it back then, so I won't relay the entire experience again, but I've been thinking about it a lot. I'm sure part of it is the time of year. In the midst of these thoughts, I found that two sweet couples in our families have miscarried. For one couple, it's still very new, they're still waiting on the results of the last blood test. That was the worst part. Not having a definitive answer for several days. Two ultrasounds, two rounds of blood tests, dopplers, hours and hours in hospitals and doctors offices.

I'll always be glad my doctor said he wanted to see what my body would do on its own before we scheduled a d&c. My body handled it perfectly, and it was a great part of my healing. I was able to see the form that would have been my baby, and because of that, I was able to disassociate what actually was from the idea that it was going to be my sweet warm pink cuddly baby.

The reality was a little walnut-sized fetus, curled up inside of its sac. Still in "seahorse" stage (around eight weeks if you have an embryonic chart handy), but about the size of what an eleven week fetus should be. I actually miscarried at 12 weeks. Something had gone wrong. I knew it. And seeing it for myself made it all less mysterious. Having a visual was also pretty traumatic at the time, but like I said, it was a big part of my healing.

A few days before it actually happened, I told a friend that we were more than likely miscarrying, and she told me the thing that brought me the most peace, especially after being able to see this little thing I'd had such high hopes for. She told me God was just waiting for the right body for my baby. I felt less like I'd lost a child, and more like I just had to wait longer for Cora.

When I got pregnant with Cora, there was less fanfare. We were so cautious with who we told. I started spotting when I was ten weeks pregnant with her, and for as well as I thought I handled everything emotionally when I miscarried, I completely fell a part at the thought of losing her. I already knew she was a girl, I felt a connection to her. I knew she was alive inside of me.

Last night, I walked out of the bathroom after starting a bath, and I looked out to two beautiful sets of eyes staring right at me. It was so touching. We stayed there for several seconds. Their eyes locked with mine, and this Thanksgiving season, I can hardly comprehend the the ways I've been blessed.

I guess the growth that has come in the nearly five years since I miscarried has transformed its meaning for me, especially now that I'm a mother, and in the throes of motherhood with small children (one night this week I got 5 hours of sleep, another night 3.5 - and yes, all the while fighting a sinus infection). A while back a friend posted a quote from an advice blog of a mother of 11 children. It's talking about how every little thing we do as a mother is important.

"They all add up to beauty -- your little touches, moments of eye contact, stories read, cookies baked, laundry folded, legos picked up (again). Your presence means security. Your are the sun -- the center of their world. A lot of responsibility, I know -- but a warm place to be."

These two sweet girls are the babies I prayed for. The ones I toiled over, fought for. They're here, and they're mine, and they sit at my dining table every night.

Day of Observance

2011-11-15T20:40:00.002-06:00

Today I went and observed Cora's class. This is one of my favorite days so far as a mother.

Each parent has an opportunity to come in throughout the school year. Cora's PT conference was last Friday, so I thought I'd see if I could get in my observation before Thanksgiving because Cora had been asking if I could go to school with her.

Parents are supposed to be a sort of fly on the wall. We have a special chair we sit in, and if children come up to us, we softly remind them that we're just there to watch. From the moment we stepped into the room, Cora was beaming over me being there. She did all of her work just as she should, and all the while, she would look over and find me and smile. She was SO PROUD of herself, and especially proud that I was there to see all the things she could do.

I don't quite know how to put the feelings into words other than I hope she'll always be so glad to show me the things she can do, and that she'll always be able to feel the pride and love I have for her and all that she is and does.

She is just the sweetest, most darling girl. She is so attentive and perceptive. Sensitive and loving. She knows how the world ticks. She knows how to read people. I am so in-love with her and happy I had the opportunity to see inside her world of independence.

PS: Before we officially knew that Cora would be at her school, I said how much I wanted her to be there. Several people said not to worry because she would do great wherever she was. I have no doubt about her greatness, but I'm thankful she gets to be in such a great learning environment that compliments her so well.

Clean Sheets...sort of.

2011-11-10T21:46:00.003-06:00

Today my goal in life was to clean the bedrooms.

I stripped each bed, mattress protectors and all, gave my self three extra loads of laundry on purpose, and went to work.

I had a migraine last night and it stuck with me through the morning. I look my medicine laced with caffeine upon rising, and while I can't attribute it solely to caffeine as it's never done much for me, when my migraines go away after my meds, I do, in fact have a burst of energy. Couple that with more than 6 hours of interrupted sleep, and...

I really can be productive.

I didn't finish all of the rooms. Cora's took me almost three hours. Like I started it when I got home from taking her to school, and I wasn't quite done when I went back to get her. And I still have to mop the floors and finish my ongoing top of the dressers quest of cycling through their clothes. I did go through all of their toys and two sacks are ready to find a new home. [Meemaw - If you read this, does the resource center take toys? I'll probably forget to ask you.] And I cleaned out all of her little toy cubbies. They were dusty/grungy inside.

I also weather-proofed the windows almost all the way. So, remember how Dot has a ton of windows? Right, and remember how she's 90 years old? Well, it just so happens that her windows are 90 years old, too. We're talking wavy glass. One of our conditions when we bought the house was that all of the windows be able to open (they'd long since been painted shut), and that all of the windows have screens. We didn't really think that one through as far as paint being a sort of sealant. And just in-case you were wondering, because Dot is in an historic preservation neighborhood, the rules about the windows go against the good sense of sustainability.

While filling gaps around the windows with the most amazing thing called rope caulk, I saw some crazy stuff. One of the windows in her room is only touching three sides of its four-sided casing. I'm going to have to get my caulk gun after that one. I couldn't believe the space between some of the upper and lower windows where they slide across one another. The rope caulk has 8 little coils/ropes all together, and you can peel however many you need to fill the gap. We're talking some three coil gaps.

I loved making the beds. When you just change sheets, you pull your old ones off and put the ones in the closet on your bed, right? Well, I always want to put the same ones I just washed and dried back on in all of their warm Downy splendor. I could be perfectly happy with one set of sheets with the exception of emergency situations, like when babies barf in my bed at night.

Anyway, I put boring old sheets on all of the beds, BUT, I'd washed all of the blankets and quilts. It's amazing how fresh linens make a whole house smell better. I suppose that coupled with the fact that sewer water is no longer leaking under our house account for the joy my sense of smell knows. It's a good thing we're tight on fundage this month because I got Bath and Body Works's email letting me know that wallflower sets are $6 right now. I could go crazy on good smelling stuff as a celebratory measure that Dot no longer has an odor issue. I'll just celebrate under a clean quilt tonight.

Tomorrow I'll see what more I can get done on my fall cleaning kick, and hopefully the spurt of energy I had today will be return tomorrow without stimulant intervention.

I Have to Remind Myself

2011-11-08T20:15:00.002-06:00

Money is tight this month.

1. We're making repairs to Dot's sewer line and cleaning up the mess it caused under our house.
2. Cora's tuition for the spring was due.
3. Jake's student loans went into repayment.

I never wanted money to be the issue. It was a big issue for most of my growing up life, and I didn't want it to be something I worried about.

Jake's job makes ends meet (barely), but it's lacking things like retirement and health benefits. Because of the (barely), it's hard to put extra away. It also has the craziest pay periods I've ever heard of. The official school year starts mid-August, but he doesn't get paid until the end of September. His last paycheck for the fall semester is in December, and then he doesn't get paid until the end of February. His last paycheck for Spring semester is the end of May. That's right - June, July, August, and basically all of September are paycheck-less.

He works gigs throughout the summer, but it isn't steady income, so every thing we save throughout the school year goes to make it through summer. Basically, it's hard to see this job with any sort of long-term sustainability.

We don't live beyond our means. We've only ever used our credit card to rent a car. Actually, that's why we initially got a credit card. We also got a Best Buy card when we bought our house so we could spread the cost of our appliances out interest free. (If you qualify for a BB card, you get 18 months of no interest on anything you buy - so if you ever need a new appliance stat, keep them in mind.) That's it. We don't have smart phones, data plans, or unlimited texting, our car is six years old, our computer is four years old, we haven't had cable/satellite in almost seven years, etc. I think about these things a lot as a sort of reassurance that we try our best to keep our spending in check.

It would be so "easy" to double our income if I worked. And this is where the two-part reminder comes in for me.
1. Being able to stay at home with my girls is a luxury, blessing, something I'm so glad I'm able to do. I don't think it would have been a possibility if we would have had Cora at a different time and become dependent on two incomes.
2. Choosing to stay at home is a sacrifice.
When I think of these two reasons together, they help ease the burden of finances, knowing that this is our choice and that we had a choice.

I mean, I don't need to be like some of the stay-at-home moms around my age with kids around my kids' ages who drive 80,000 vehicles and live in million dollar homes [this isn't a judgment on them, more power to them for being able to]. I just want my little Dot Spot and Staci Car, and a little cushion so sewers and tires don't break the bank. It's hard to know what you love to do, but try to figure out a way to "make it" comfortably on the income society has deemed that job to be worth.

End Times

2011-11-07T20:30:00.003-06:00

We've been having earthquakes in Oklahoma. The big one was on Saturday night. [5.6]. Jake and I now have a grab our girls and get out of the house plan.

It's Monday night, and tornadoes have been roaring through southwestern Oklahoma. The storms are just about to come through Oklahoma City. There's talk of flooding.

Okay we just had another earthquake. No joke. It was smaller. My heart is pounding though. Let's see, it would have been 8:47 PM. This is a perfect segue into what I've been thinking about.

What happens if an earthquake happens at the same time a tornado warning is going on? Being in a basement during an earthquake isn't a good idea, and being outside during a tornado is a definite no.

[and the earthquake that just happened was a 4.7]

This wasn't going to be all about the apocalypse taking place in Oklahoma, but I mean, really. I'm afraid if I keep writing on the topic, a category five hurricane will spawn itself over Lake Hefner. Be nice to my 90-year-old Dot, you crazy natural disasters.

[and the thunder rolls...]

I guess I'll come back tomorrow to talk about what had really been on my mind [tantra]. I mean, I hope I'll be back tomorrow.

A Case of You

2011-11-01T22:10:00.002-05:00

I can't believe I've never heard this song before. Joni Mitchell, you've got a way about you. [And James Blake, thank you for this cover.]

Just before our love got lost you said
"I am as constant as a northern star"
And I said "Constantly in the darkness
Where's that at?
If you want me I'll be in the bar"

On the back of a cartoon coaster
In the blue TV screen light
I drew a map of Canada
Oh Canada
With your face sketched on it twice
Oh you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet

Oh I could drink a case of you darling
Still I'd be on my feet
oh I would still be on my feet

Oh I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
I'm frightened by the devil
And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid

I remember that time you told me you said
"Love is touching souls"
Surely you touched mine
'Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time
Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet

Oh I could drink a case of you darling
And I would still be on my feet
I would still be on my feet

I met a woman
She had a mouth like yours
She knew your life
She knew your devils and your deeds
And she said
"Go to him, stay with him if you can
But be prepared to bleed"

Oh but you are in my blood
You're my holy wine
You're so bitter, bitter and so sweet

Oh, I could drink a case of you darling
Still I'd be on my feet
I would still be on my feet

Halloween

2011-10-31T21:01:00.011-05:00

This Halloween was great. The girls and I had a relaxed day at home. We went grocery shopping in the morning, came home and ate lunch, Magnolia took a nap. When she woke up, we had a little snack and then we went to the park. Cora rode her bike all the way there and all the way home.

We ate a scrumptious dinner and then the girls got in their costumes: Cora a cupcake, Magnolia a strawberry.

We went outside just in time to snap a few pictures and see Jake riding down the street on Scoot - home a whole half-hour early.

Then the real fun began: TRICK-OR-TREATING

Cora wasn't shy at all. She walked right up and said, "Trick-or-treat." After getting her treat, she always said, "Thank you!"

Magnolia walked up to her first stop, holding her purple pumpkin bucket, and was amazed when someone just handed her candy. We showed her how to put it in her bucket, and she was sold. It is a pretty remarkable thing, Goo.

Grocery Store

2011-10-25T23:12:00.003-05:00

This was not my first trip to Whole Foods.

But this was the trip where I fell in-love.

The new store in Oklahoma City was less crowded, so I was able to take my time. I picked up the most beautiful bunch of kale, half of which I turned into Kale Chips this afternoon.

That was all fine and good, but the really amazing thing happened right after I put some vanilla and chocolate [soy] milk in my cart. I glanced up and there is was:

VEGAN WHIPPED CREAM

I almost cried. I did a little happy dance, and there may have been a shriek.

Oh but wait, it doesn't end there.

I walked down to admire the desserts to go. I eyed an oreo cake right away. Upon closer inspection, there was a big yellow sticker that said VEGAN on it. And next to it was a vegan chocolate cake, and next to that, a vegan carrot cake, and a little ways down was some vegan chocolate pudding. Each large piece of cake was $2.99. That's less than a small cupcake from Green Goodies, which is our go-to dessert place.

The stickers really did me in. I'm so used to looking at every ingredient label, but to have food advertise that it's vegan for me. That's all.

Whipped cream is what I've missed most. I loved making it, watching it fluff up, finding any excuse to make it, and using it in unconventional ways just because.

When I got home, I put all of the groceries away, and then I sat on the kitchen floor for a minute [or two] with my new found can of creamy goodness. I used my fingers as the utensil to get it into my mouth.

A Quick Note

2011-10-19T22:59:00.005-05:00

This is just to say...

I love Chicago.

There is an energy in that city unlike any place I've ever been. It's invigorating, and it enlivens my soul.

Parts of this trip that are on my mind tonight:

1. Millennium Park - It's an amazing gathering place
2. Roosevelt University - Dedicated to the enlightenment of the human spirit - It's housed in an amazing building. I could spend hours wandering the halls and looking out every window.
3. Late night conversations with friends - though late has been redefined with small children who don't care what time you went to bed.
4. Chicago Temple [First United Methodist Church] - the tallest church in the world, and I've been to the top - I was thinking about Christina and what it would have been like if her dad was the Senior Pastor there. Their home would have been on the top three floors. No joke.

And I'm also randomly thinking about Christina's wedding and how I almost got to drive one of the church vans until someone asked how old I was and I didn't meet the age requirement for insurance. Bummer because it would have been some great early practice for...

5. After riding several buses, my desire to be a bus driver, if only for a day, has been reaffirmed. Make it an accordion bus, please.

Thursday

2011-10-11T20:24:00.003-05:00

I cannot wait for Thursday to roll around.

Why?

Because we will be in CHICAGO!

Dot's First Transformation: Paint

2011-10-11T11:20:00.000-05:00

Picking the perfect greige to adorn Dot's walls was a painstaking process. When I had the colors narrowed down to two choices, I still couldn't figure out, so I did the only reasonable thing and googled Benjamin Moore Halo vs. Ashwood. I came across a blog called for the love of a house, and Joan happened to have Halo in her dining room and Ashwood in her living room. My dilemma was between night and day. I liked Ashwood more at night and Halo more during the day. I sent Joan an email explaining the situation and then said,

"This color will be throughout our entire house, and I was wondering if there was anything you could say about either one that might help make the decision a little easier. (I love adjectives and imagery.)"

She was awesome and gave me just what I needed. These were her descriptions:
"Ashwood is like a warm hug."
"Halo is like a beautiful soft smile."

We picked Halo.

The following are pictures we took of our freshly painted walls.

Our room looking into the hall and living room

Our room looking into the sun room (currently Magnolia's room - someday office-of-sorts)

Sun room/Magnolia's Room

Sun Room/Magnolia's room looking out to the deck

Jake hard at work on a second coat in the living room

Hall from our room looking into Cora's room

Living room into the dining room from Cora's perspective. Let it be known that this is the only known picture of me nursing a baby. I thought it was funny. Perfectly placed ladder.

Dining Room looking into the hall

Bathroom. So much better than the black/gray sponge painting that we initially thought was wall paper.

On for the love of a house, Joan calls Halo a whisper of color. I think she's right, and I love it for that.

When We Bought Dot

2011-10-10T11:01:00.005-05:00

These are the realtor pictures of Dot when we bought her. These are the official before pictures.

Front

Back

Living Room

Dining room

Bathroom

Girls' Room (Currently just Cora's)

Office (Currently Magnolia's Room)

Deck off of the office
Back yard

Garage
Behind the Garage

Sleep

2011-10-09T21:15:00.002-05:00

The thing about sleep is that I miss it so.

For the last 16 months I've gotten approximately 6 hours of interrupted sleep each night. Note interrupted.

I have a sixteen-month-old, but she might as well be a newborn still, except we're used to one another. And she doesn't poop as much.

She's teething right now, like major teething. This past week has been worse than usual in the sleep department.

It started on Saturday (you know 8 days ago). We were in Holdenville at Jake's parents. I went to bed at 10:30 after a riveting International House Hunters. They have cable, we don't, but I'm still addicted to HGTV. I can't help myself.

So just as I went to bed, Magnolia woke up. And stayed up, until 2:30. At 2:15, Jake and I hit the streets of H-ville with Magnolia in her car seat. She was out surprisingly fast. By the time we got home and her in bed (yes, she miraculously stayed asleep between the car and her bed, though I was completely prepared to sleep in the car), and fell asleep, it was around 3:00. We woke up around 7:30. 4.5 hours of sleep. Nice.

One night during the past week, she only woke up once, it was a miracle, but since then, she's been waking up about 3 times a night. Just about every 3 hours on the dot. Newborn baby sleep pattern for sure.

She's still nursing, but we're in the weaning phase, I thought. I think it comes down to this: She doesn't have the ability to self-soothe just yet. She gave up her paci, that thing she was never too interested in, before she was 1. Cora kept that for a really long time. She doesn't have a little animal or blanket she's completely attached to. Cora loved to rub the little tags on beanie babies. She has me, and like I said, she is majorly teething, like 3 molars plus another tooth just for fun.

I'm just way deep down tired. My reserves are just about empty. I can feel it. I've been fantasizing about a cool room with a soft hum and a fluffy white comforter on a big bed that is all mine. And hours and hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Omission

2011-10-06T09:10:00.001-05:00

I'm a perfectionist who practices the art of avoidance because failure is obviously not an option.

Let it be known

2011-09-21T20:54:00.010-05:00

On the twenty-first day of September, in the year two thousand eleven, Magnolia Jane McInnes Johnson walked across the living room unassisted for the first time.

There was a lot of cheering on and laughing, and she fell down when she was almost to me, but got right up and made it the rest of the way. She's a really big deal.
We had a well-child check with the doctor yesterday. She weighs 18 pounds 13 ounces and is 29 inches long. She's healthy and happy and her eighth tooth just broke through. She got three shots. It broke Cora's heart as much as Magnolia's.

She's a super flirt with everyone she sees. I get caught up in her kisses and lovey faces all the time. If she sees you, she's waving and saying hi, smiling, and telling you that you are important. Take notice - it makes you feel good. She can make a day better in an instant.

She still yells pretty much all throughout a meal (usually just at a restaurant because she wants a little bit of what everyone else has), but we're working on that. Or just getting used to it. She also really likes feeding herself and will not so shyly snub you if you try to feed her. She's perfectly capable.
She's into pointing out parts of a face: Nose, eyes, ears, mouth. And she really likes eye brows, too.Her hair is getting longer and fluffier. Yes, she can now pull off pigtails. She is definitely sporting a mullet, but it's cute, and the ends of her hair curl a little.
I love her. I love her - I love her - I love her. Oh Goo, I can't wait to see your face in the morning.

Reminiscing

2011-09-17T07:04:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking about my grandparents. I hardly ever [if ever] ate a dinner at their house where the table wasn't set. And I ate a lot of dinners there. I pride myself in knowing how to set a table properly. It's ingrained in me. I appreciate them for that. I don't think we ever ate buffet style either. The food was on the table. Last night, I made an old standard, enchiladas, but Cora and I set the table, and brought all of the food from the kitchen to the dining room. There was something so lovely about it.

I loved it when my grandma made pancakes. She followed the standard recipe using Bisquick. They were the best pancakes in the world. My favorite breakfast was pancakes with scrabbled eggs and sausage - the eggs were scrambled in with the sausage. And when the syrup mixed in with all of it. Wow. If there were left overs, which there always were, my grandpa and I would go out into the back yard, tear the pancakes into bite sized pieces and throw them to the birds. We'd watch the birds come and eat our offerings. He also did this with any left over bread.

They taught me that you could make something out of nothing. When I ran out of glue for a school project in elementary school, I learned that flour and water together make paste, and it's just as good as glue. I made a shoelace clamp-a-mid in fourth grade [to keep your shoelaces tied] for an invention fair from things I found in their shed, or "dryer room" as Grammy called it. Some old paneling, scotch tape, rubber cement, and voilà. I can't remember if I did the cutting or Grandpa did, but he was out there with me giving me direction when he thought I needed it. My invention made the Mesa Tribune. I remember wondering if my biological father, Lance, saw it, and if he would know it was me. [Random tie in.] Grandpa read the paper every day, and was the one who spotted it. I would have given Irl and Betty Lund credit for helping that brilliant idea come to fruition.

Sometimes I miss those times. I love my grandparents. My grandpa passed away in 2001. My grammy is 87 and will be 88 on April 25th. They taught me about simplicity. I don't need a lot. I know that, I'm happy for that, and I'm so glad they're the ones who shared it with me - even if I'm sure they spent much of their lives wishing they had more.

Hi, I'm new here.

2011-09-16T21:14:00.002-05:00

Tonight was Cora's school carnival. The carnival came complete with a bake sale. I made our favorite cookies and sent them in. I thought about individually wrapping them or grouping them, whatever, but then I thought it would be nice to have individual cookies to sell for .10 or so each. Really, I had no idea, I've never done this before.

We'd been at the carnival for a while when we passed the baked goods. I saw our cookies still wrapped up and didn't think much of it. After we ate dinner, I went back to survey the table for dessert. I looked at the cookies and saw something that caught me off guard. $10. Flattering, right?

Panic struck. They're selling the whole thing! Those cookies are on my Fiesta platter! [Can you tell what's about to happen?] I walked briskly back to Jake and let him know what was up. He said, "Do you want to buy it?"

I swallowed my pride that I was one of those people, took a twenty over the the bake sale, looked at a few things so I didn't look suspicious, then said I want that one. I left with a ten and my beloved Fiesta platter full of Chewy Chocolate chocolate chip cookies. At least I know they're vegan, right?

Here's the cookie recipe because I know you're curious [the dough is so good]:

Cream:
3/4 c canola oil
2 c sugar
2 tsp vanilla

Process:
1 TBL + 1 tsp flax seed
1/2 c soy milk
(this replaces one egg)

Blend:
Oil mixture and flax mixture

Whisk:
2 c flour
3/4 c cocoa powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt

Mix dry ingredients with wet ingredients

Add:
1/2 c - 1 c chocolate chips

The dough is super thick and fudge-y. [And did I mention delicious?] Roll into 1 inch balls and flatten a bit.

Bake at 350 for 10 minutes. Don't over bake! 10 minutes does it. Be there to count down the last few seconds.

Let cool on pan for a minute or so and then move to rack to finish cooling. Makes about 3 dozen.

Dear Ashleigh Lorene Sorrell Rose

2011-09-12T21:59:00.003-05:00

I have this fiery little friend named Ashleigh. She's a red head. And I don't know if I loved her first because she was one of the few people I'm taller than, or if it's because I felt like I knew her before I knew her when Jake described his first BYOP pumpkin painting experience at her parents' home in the fall of 2003. But I do know that I've loved her for a long time.

Today is her 27th birthday. My first experience with an Ashleigh Birthday was when she turned 20. She sat at the head of the table and said "Thanks for coming to my birthday soiree." I'd never heard anyone use soiree for real before. I was happy to be there, and every year on her birthday, I think she's a big deal. So, dear friend, here's to you:

I've enjoyed being with you for many a big event in your life: Getting an internship in D.C. and when your reasons for respectfully declining it. Listening to the stories of you with a gimp Christina wandering around D.C. while she was super packing her pocket knife - ready to ward off anyone who looked at either one of you the wrong way. Your first grown up job at Project Transformation, your struggles elsewhere, and you finally landing at United Way...even if I sometimes miss the good ol' days in Financial Aid in our super sweet work study spot. You were a ridiculously fun co-worker. It floated my boat to long-distance house hunt with you. And it was a great honor to stand with you when you married Andrew.

I appreciate your passion for good food, your love of other cultures, your slippage back and forth between English and Spanish, how you make a joint effort with everyone and anything you come across, that you still have Rita, your desire and effort to make the world a better place in whatever way you can, that you bought sunny yellow sheets for Cora at your house, that you came to see us in Chicago and sent your husband up to help when we left, the way you seem to balance so many things effortlessly. This list could go on and on.

One of my favorite things about us is the way you were around so much when I was in the hospital in labor with Cora forever. I'll never be able to tell you how much it meant that you came to see me so often, parking fees, crazy wheelchair driving and all. And then there was the night during the week I was able to go home, and you took me to (dare I say it?) McDonald's! And we ate cheap hamburgers because I really wanted one. Maybe I ate two, I can't remember. Stupid irresistible chopped up pickles. But the moral of the story is you are always there.

Of all the things about you, there is one simple thing I appreciate the most: your friendship.

Much Love,
BrieAnn

Reflection from a very tired woman about a very important thing

2011-09-11T00:01:00.000-05:00

Sometimes the Oklahoma City bombing seems like it happened so long ago. It was a long time ago in my life. I wasn't quite 10. I was already married and living in Oklahoma when the 10th anniversary came. I watched the service in the living room of our apartment, just 3 miles from the actual site of the bombing. At the completion of the service, a bagpiper led the families of the victims and former president and first lady, Bill and Hillary Clinton, from the church across the street to the site of the memorial. The bagpiper slipped and fell on the steps. The camera crews looked elsewhere as he got up, and when they showed him again, playing his tune, I cried. Ten years. So many lives affected. A city completely transformed.

9/11 seems like it could have happened yesterday. I was a junior in high school. One of my best friends had been killed in a car accident less than a month before, my grandpa had passed away in January of that year. I don't really know what ten years feels like, but if I had to guess, it's something like the distance I've placed between the two latter events. There are times when they are still painful, when I miss them so much my emotions overcome me, but the constant sting of loss has dulled. The same kind of distance cannot be placed for the way our world was changed 10 years ago. We are reminded of the atrocities carried out by human beings against human beings almost daily in the new way we our securities must be guarded. In the wars being fought against terrorism. In the acts of terrorism that occur around the world.

I rode passed the OKC Memorial today on the scooter.I thought about both days, April 19, 1995 and September 11, 2011, and how different the passage of 10 years felt between them.

I guess I don't really know what to say. What happened was unfathomable, and trying to imagine a world where 9/11/2001 was just an ordinary day is impossible too. What if everyone would have gone to work, made it home, and to their destination without incident? Not only would the victims and their families not know what it's like to hold that title, but there wouldn't be victims of the aftermath either - no casualties of war, no children left without a parent because of the ongoing fight against terrorism. There was a finality to the bombing in Oklahoma City. It was local, the perpetrators were caught, put on trial and punished accordingly. 9/11 left the world with an impossible task. The only thing that is possible, in my control, is to remember.

So today, just like everyone else, I am remembering, but I think memory inspiring an action would be even better. In a message, President Obama said:

"With just a small act of service, or a simple act of kindness towards others, you can both honor those we lost and those who serve us still, and help us recapture the spirit of generosity and compassion that followed 9/11."

I still feel anxiety creep in when I see a plane and a building in the same field of sight. I still remember seeing the first plane in the sky leaving from Sky Harbor in Phoenix after planes were allowed to fly again. I was on the band bus on the way to a football game. The bus driver told everyone to look out the window, that we were witnessing something historic. It made something inside feel normal again. For the record, I still feel weary of yellow moving trucks, too. But I can't lose hope that with all of the bad stuff that happens at the hands of a few, there are always so many more who would do something good, and that all of those good things can have the same type of everlasting impact. I guess my resolve is one I've made over and over: I'm going to try to be a little bit better.

Random Palooza

2011-09-07T18:56:00.002-05:00

The weather has been beautiful. I find myself thanking God several times a day for the reprieve of the heat. I love being outside - basking in the blue skies and sunshine - without fearing heat stroke.

And then I was watching the news tonight, and apparently the heat is coming back next week. Ummm. Bright side...bright side....Ah, I haven't laid out a single time this summer. We have reclining adirondacks. Early next week, I will be on our side deck in my swim suit next to no pool, baking my skin. Everyone needs at least one good bake right? I am from Arizona. It's not like I'm going to be out there for 5 hours with no sunscreen. And I'm trying to figure out how to cover my face adequately. The melasma on my face never went away after I had Magnolia. I don't want to aggravate it. I mean, I'm religious about applying my moisturizer with 30 spf in it every day.

Dot has an issue. A gas issue. A smelly gas issue. For the last little while, every time we run any sizable amount of hot water, whoa. Knock out sewer smell. From what I've read, I've deduced that we have a venting problem. The sewer gasses aren't properly venting and the steam from hot water carries the smell into our house. So...what to do..?

You know how sometimes your kids go through stages where it's like "Who are you?" I do. And I know that when those stages have run their course, you fall in-love with that little person all over again - and even more in-love than you've ever been before. This will require its very own post. But let it be known that I am so in-love with my darling daughters, and this crazy awesome trip called motherhood never ceases to amaze me.

Cora is enjoying school. A lot. I was getting worried every time we rolled up and she wouldn't get out of the car to go to the car teacher. Then last Wednesday (approximately three schools days ago), she just got right out and that was that. Now instead of tears and talking about how she doesn't want to go to school, she can't wait until it's that time. She especially enjoyed PE this week. Tomorrow we're meeting her best school friend, Lillian, at Douglas Park for lunch and then they're walking to class together. I hear they like to hold hands. Cora and Lillian have both been talking about spending the night with each other. In good time.

I've been making a to-do list for Dot, aside from her gas issue of course. Her yard is so sad looking. This summer=drought. Our lawn was in bad shape when we moved in. Hopefully this fall will be the answer. She also needs a new fence along the street side of the backyard. I'm feeling a 5-foot white picket. I have done so little in the way of decorating. It is time. I need to tackle painting the ceilings and the trim. The stray marks of wall color that landed on both are finally bothering me enough to do something about it. I've thought up the girls room, and the winner theme is: Bohemian Bazaar. I love pinterest for the ability to accumulate ideas. No more gobs of emails with links in them from me to me. And when Jake gets paid again, we're tackling going to start tackling the list. He goes from the end of May to the end of September before he gets consistent paycheck. No joke. And it's not even a full paycheck until the end of October. I was incredibly impressed with our ability to save throughout the school year to make it through the summer. Go team!

All right. There's always more where random came from, but I'm capping it off for the night.

If a song can be a prayer, then this is my prayer of thanksgiving

2011-09-01T23:20:00.004-05:00

Thanks a lot
Thanks for the sun in the sky

Thanks a lot
Thanks for the clouds so high

Thanks a lot
Thanks for the whispering wind

Thanks a lot
Thanks for the birds in the spring

Thanks a lot
Thanks for the moonlit night

Thanks a lot
Thanks for the stars so bright

Thanks a lot
Thanks for wonder in me

Thanks a lot
Thanks for the way that I feel

Thanks for the animals
Thanks for the land
Thanks for the people everywhere

Thanks a lot
Thanks for all I’ve got

Thanks for all I’ve got

-Raffi

oh no no no not the vista.

2011-08-29T21:23:00.006-05:00

The beginning of this day was ridiculously difficult. Our house is so upside down. We've been lax, I admit it. The start of the school year was all kinds of extra busy around here.

There was a borderline menial amount of dishes in the sink this morning left over from yesterday. I started doing them pretty early on, but distraction after distraction hindered my progress....We have these gnats in our house. I don't know how they got here. They're not fruit flies, they're not regular flies. They're awful. They're pretty dormant during the day and then come out at night and hang around every possible light source. I don't know how to get rid of them yet. I don't even know what they are yet. Or how they got in our home and started multiplying. Well, I mean, I get the multiplying part.

Anyway, so I see a bunch of their carcasses all over the floor. So I have to sweep them up. The girls eat breakfast, Magnolia needs a bath. More dishes. Magnolia gets tired. I take her in for her nap. She doesn't go to sleep. THREE HOURS LATER, and there are still dishes! AHHHH! I was cussing in my head. [That's how I know I'm having a bad day....or just feeling completely overwhelmed even if the day isn't so bad.] All of life's ills could have been solved if I had a dishwasher! And a housekeeper! And if I didn't have a migraine, and I didn't think I was getting sick, but mostly a dishwasher. When I'm in this kind of funk, everything is multiplied times one million, and it all ends up coming down to me feeling that I am completely incapable. And I get all defensive and finger-pointy. My rational brain knows that I am [capable], my emotions, irrationality, lack of confidence, etc never fail to remind me that I'm not [capable].

I took a moment to check in on the blogs I read and came across this post by Regan at The Oklahomian. The main theme was "[t]his is the first day of the rest of my life. I'm starting over. I'm redoing myself." She also said "Life is about knowing who you are deep down inside and embracing that woman with a strength and grace that allows you to move mountains (even if that mountain is sometimes just tackling the dishes in the kitchen sink)."

Um, HELLO! I was determined to conquer that [cuss in my head] mountain of dishes in my kitchen sink. After a few interruptions and relapses, I did.

Today I needed to redo myself by the minute - every few minutes if I was lucky. And that's how it goes. It can be done. Every second of our lives is a new chance. I will allow myself to be that flip-floppy. For now. Because, dang, I have got to cut myself a break some times. We all do.

You know what? After I killed that pile of dishes, my day got better. I decided that I couldn't put another dirty dish in that sink, so we went to Taco Bell and ate bean burritos and rice. Cora loved it, she loves eating inside Taco Bell. I love her for it. After that, we went to Walgreen's to print some of the 800+ pictures off of Cora's camera. We ended up with 17. Half of them were from Chicago. I owed it to her. The memory has been full for a while now. She now has a clean slate. Ah, so refreshing. After Walgreen's we went to the library to pick up a whole slew of Fancy Nancy books we had on reserve. Fancy Nancy can perk anyone right up. Cora loves her. I'm glad Tracey introduced them.

For as completely horrendous as this day felt in the beginning, it ended up being pretty fabulous. Neck up check up: I get it. I went to my class this evening, learned some pretty helpful ideas, and got to ride home on the Vespa at night for the first time. It was beautiful. Everyone should have a convertible or a scooter [and a dishwasher] and take long drives/rides at night. [exhale.]

PS: I can't believe I forgot this...I've been singing the chorus to this song for the last week or so, and lo and behold, the song was playing at Taco Bell. What are the odds? I don't know, but they were in my favor. ;) [I love the scratching around 2:20.]

Cora's First Day of School [and the day before]

2011-08-19T10:25:00.008-05:00

We decided to have a little back to school celebration the night before Cora's first day. She wanted to ride a boat, so we headed on down to Bricktown to take a ride on the canal.
After the boat ride, we had dinner at Bolero, a tapas restaurant in Lower Bricktown. It was delicious. Cora's favorite was the mushroom tapas, and Jake and I liked the artichoke and tomatillos tapas the best.

After Bolero, we walked along the canal to Peach Wave. We partook in some delightful dairy-free pineapple frozen yogurt complete with sprinkles.

We made our way home, the girls took a bath, and we got all tucked in for the big day.

Cora is in the afternoon class, so we [I] had plenty of time to think [fret] about everything. I spent the early morning at the DMV taking the written exam for my motorcycle lisence. It was a great distraction. When I got home, Magnolia was still sleeping, and Jake and Cora were making pancakes in the kitchen, as per her request.

She was ready by ten, school doesn't start until 12:15. On our way out, we took some pictures. Cora is not the biggest fan of pictures. The following are an equal representation of the lot. It doesn't matter, she's cute no matter what she's doing.

She'd just eaten an apple, hence the water on her dress. Don't worry, it was a million degrees outside. I'm pretty sure it dried by the time she got to the car. When we got to school, we made the walk through the parking lot. I held her hand [really tight].

We took a picture at the front entrance, on the red line that toes have to wait at for carpool. When we went inside, we saw two other kids in her class waiting. She made right up with Lillian, and according to her teacher, they were good friends for the rest of the day.

Things I'll never forget about this day:

- When I walked her up to the door of her classroom, her teacher said, "Can you say goodbye to your mommy now?" Cora stopped, squeezed my hand really tight, and looked up with hesitation. I smiled, and she smiled back, gave her head a nod, let go of my hand and made her way through the door.

- How heavy my chest was when we were walking back to our car without her.

- Watching her make her way through the doors at the end of the day. They have really specific rules for carpool, and they were learning each step. She had to wait in different spots for a few seconds, and when she finally came out the doors to the "car teacher" with her bag on her shoulder, she was so proud and confident. The car teacher opened the door, and she climbed in.

- We pull forward before buckling, and when I got out to buckle her in, I asked her a quick question about her day, and she said it was "great" and then her little chin quivered as she said "but I missed my mama at the end." I gave a big kiss and told her I would always come back.

- We were unwinding for a little while, just Cora and I. Jake had a rehearsal and Magnolia was taking a much needed nap. We were coloring the box that Grandma and Grandpa sent their back to school present in, and she said, "Mama, I love you now." I was glad.

- Cora picked a sock with a blue stripe and one with a yellow stripe, as well as her pink bow.

And finally, more random facts about the day.

When Cora went into her classroom, we went to a one hour orientation. We dropped Magnolia off with our friend Leslie. After we picked Magnolia up, Jake had to go print off some music at OCU, but I was STARVING! We went to Taco Mayo, and I got a bean burrito. After a failed attempt and music printing, Jake decided he was hungry, so we went to Samurai and had some sushi. I was being an emotional eater, no doubt. We picked Cora up, had the afore mentioned downtime, and then Cora and I made some beans and rice for dinner. And then...we dropped both girls off with Ashleigh and Andrew and Jack while we went to one more orientation/parent meeting. It was wonderful. Cora's teachers, Mrs. Laws and Mrs. McNeil talked about what our student's day is like, and they showed us some of the lessons they do with the children. It was mesmerizing. (The curriculum is Montessori based.) I LOVE CORA'S SCHOOL more every time I am there.

When that was done, I dropped Jake off at OCU for OCUreads. I visited with Ashleigh and Andrew for a while until Magnolia was officially at the end of her rope. We picked Jake up and went home. HOME! HOME! HOME! It was such a long, out of the ordinary day. I'm looking forward to next week when our routine starts to get into full swing. I am so happy my girl has a great place to learn and grow.

Today

2011-08-11T22:24:00.003-05:00

Even though thunderstorms have kept me up for the last two nights, I wasn't expecting them, and I love a good thunderstorm, and I wouldn't mind another one tonight.

One storm rolled through this morning. It was lovely. We sat on our front porch watching it. Oh, and my girls needed sweaters...because it was a bit chilly. WHAT!?! Yes. Surprise! A lovely morning in the middle of what is working up to be [one of] the hottest summer on record.

Mmm, I love surprises.

It was a super lazy day. No one took showers, I never put on a bra. We were in and out all day. Around 6, we were sitting in our driveway, I don't know why, and we decided to go for a bike ride. Cora was still in her pajamas, didn't have shoes on, but we grabbed our helmets, and we took off for the downtown post office to mail some forms for our scooter insurance.

I recently discovered the drive-thru [bike-thru] area of that post office thanks to Jake. I can't tell you how many times I've parked the car and hauled the kids inside to drop off some mail.

After the post office, we made our way to Myriad Gardens. This was, by far, the coolest surprise. It's been undergoing a major transformation, but we'd never actually gone onto the remade grounds until tonight. It is AWESOME! Like seriously so cool. Like what city am I in again cool. I am so excited that it is part of our downtown.

We rode home passed the OKC Memorial on our way home and stopped at the grocery store to get some essentials like soy milk and bread and bananas...and tortilla chips because they are a staple around here. People were surprised by the helmet I forgot I was wearing. I got asked if I rode my bike...[I just realized how funny this is]... and if I had something to put my groceries in for the ride home.

I walked out to the trailer, Jake, his bike, Josephine [my bike], Magnolia and a certain three-year-old named Cora who loves pancakes and decided that she wanted some for dinner. So, at 8:30, I was making pancakes, and I surprised her by putting some chocolate chips in a few of them.

I love my little family. I love going on adventures with them...and ending up right back on our cozy little corner of the city.

Enough is Enough

2011-08-10T21:55:00.007-05:00

In the Dance of the Dissident Daughter by Sue Monk Kidd, Sue tells the story of one Autumn afternoon that she stopped to see her fourteen-year-old daughter, Ann, at the store where she worked. She entered the store and saw Ann was kneeling on the floor of the toothpaste aisle stocking the bottom shelf unaware of two men approaching her.

"The men stopped, peering down on her. One man nudged the other. He said, 'Now that's how I like to see a woman -- on her knees.' The other man laughed. Standing in the next aisle, I froze. I watched the expression that crept into my daughter's eyes as she looked up. I watched her chin drop and her hair fall across her face. Seeing her kneel at these men's feet while they laughed at her subordinate posture pierced me through."

Today, on my way to OCU to do a bit more studying, I had to pass a man on a bike on a slim stretch of sidewalk in front of Pirates Alley Picture Frames on 23rd. He was clean cut, wearing a short-sleeved button up plaid shirt, shorts, and sunglasses. Totally normal. He stared at me as I passed and said "what are you doing" at the same time I began nodding a thank you for letting me pass. I went the few extra feet to push the button for the crossing signal and he said "You need to cover up your body more."

I looked at him, confused. That was the beginning of his rant about how I needed to wear more clothes because I was being indecent. I needed to be more modest. I should be arrested because of my indecency, as should all women who don't cover up enough. Women who dress as I was dressed are the reason why society is so bad. We tempt men and mess with their minds. All societal ills on the backs of women.

My light couldn't turn green fast enough. He continued on, never moving, but I could hear him going on and on until I was over a block away. When I was out of his sight, I called OCU security.

This man was, very obviously, the victim of mental illness, or really bad at recovering from a failed pick-up line. Either way, no matter how irrational he was nor how much that contributed to a very uncomfortable situation for me, the words flying out of his mouth were words I've heard so many times before in various places, mostly in terms of morality, modesty, purity, cleanliness, etc. in terms of women and how what they do, say, dress is responsible for the temptings of men. He wasn't saying anything new, he was just saying it without a filter.

This man had learned all of the things I've been taught for my whole life, but here's the thing: I just don't buy it. Not a word when it comes to who is responsible for what in terms of modesty and temptation. Obviously, nobody taught this man that he is in charge of his own thoughts and actions. Modesty is not what a person is wearing. Modesty is the attitude of the person, male or female. A topless woman in a remote village is no less modest than a woman wearing a burka.

I, BrieAnn Lund Johnson, an endowed mormon woman who always wears two pieces of undergarments [a top with sleeves, and bottoms that go down to my knees], am no more modest in my appearance than a woman wearing a tank top and shorts that don't make it past mid-thigh. What matters is the decency with which you present yourself. I don't want to deal with the superficiality of whether or not some skin shows when my daughters arms are raised, or if the tips of her fingertips go past the bottom of her shorts. I want to teach them how to be proud, and to carry themselves with dignity. They're not just a body, they're a mind, and a spirit, and too much emphasis is placed on the physical. I developed a horrible slouch in middle school and high school. Shirts were never long enough for my super long torso, and the only way to keep my midriff from showing was to slouch. I crumpled myself trying to conform to this very particular standard of physical modesty.

But this isn't just about modesty. What he said was not just about clothes. Just as I was his example of a harlot, he is my example of something going too far. We live in a country that boasts freedom, but women are still oppressed in the patriarchal system that so many societies continue to perpetuate. The exchange between him and I would never happen in reverse. And this was just a verbal exchange. This was a minor assertion of superiority over me. I am lucky.

Too many women are not.

My security was temporarily violated, my heart rate elevated. I recently heard the story of a woman in the DRC who was given two choices by a rebel: Rape or her husband would be killed. She chose rape, and the husband she saved in that choice left her because she was no longer "clean." Women whose bodies have been overpowered have not lost their sacredness. They are still "clean" and "pure" and "perfect" and "whole." And all of the other words we use that mean the opposite of less than. Our bodies are always sacred.

We live in a society where sexual violations are atrocities. [So long as the woman didn't get what was coming to her because of the way she was dressed, right?] There are too many things that happen to women and girls all over the world that we can hardly fathom, but encounters like the one I had today that lands so small on the scale that it's hardly a blip remind me that there is a long road ahead for all women. I live in a society where I have more power, even if my power is limited by outdated cultural norms. I have power to stand up and be a voice of equality for women around the world. Our bodies are our own. And we are more than just our bodies.

After a glimpse of self reflection, Sue Monk Kidd says:

"Those men with their blithe joke had no idea they had tapped a reservoir of pain and defiance in me. It was unstoppable now, by any earthly force. I walked toward them. 'I have something to say to you, and I want you to hear it,' I said. They stopped laughing. Ann looked up. 'This is my daughter,' I said, pointing to her, my finger shaking with anger. 'You may like to see her and other women on their knees, but we don't belong there. We don't belong there!'"

My finger is shaking in anger. These are my sisters. They are mine, and enough is enough.

PS: If you're wondering what I was wearing, that very thought defeats the purpose of what I've said, but to satisfy curiosity, I was wearing some bermuda shorts and a t-shirt.

Living Where I do.

2011-08-09T22:14:00.005-05:00

I love my neighborhood for a lot of reasons:

We live one mile north of downtown OKC - It satisfies a portion of my urban loving self.

We live three blocks from a park - Not just a playground, a real live park on a whole city block complete with sand volleyball, a gazebo, and trees.

Our neighborhood has sidewalks! - Non-OKCers are probably like "big deal." This is huge in Oklahoma City. Like a huge rarity, and a huge perk.

Our neighborhood has gigantic trees, old houses, diverse residents.

There are even bike lanes...

Which leads me to today's highlighted "why I love where I live" reason: I went out and about twice today, and I rode my bike both times. I LOVE [super love] that this neighborhood affords me the chance to get places sans car because of its proximity to a majority of things I need. I'm not talking about a leisurely ride around the hood. Josephine [my bike] and I went to OCU, where I spent a few hours studying up on some things. After dinner tonight, I wanted to make some cookies, but I was out of canola oil. No problem. I pedaled to our neighborhood grocery store and got what I needed, plus some olives because they were on sale and Cora loves them. A few days ago, I rode to the downtown library. Pure bliss.

Now I just need to figure out who to contact at Chesapeake about building a bike lane up Western so I can get to Whole Foods without fearing for my life - at least a lane between 50th and 63rd as I can go through neighborhoods to get to 50th. [Most of OKC is not pedestrian/bike friendly. People and bikes out and about are like foreign language around here.]

A while ago, I was in a suburb just north of OKC, and I saw a billboard advertising a new housing development that said "[I can't remember the name of the neighborhood] isn't downtown, but neither is your family." I've been trying to figure out how to elaborate on this...I keep coming up empty. I suppose it comes down to a perpetuation of fear of people. At any rate, I love living where I do. I can't imagine anywhere else in the city feeling more like home. It suites me. It suites me very well.

Here is a link to a photo album containing images of the area of OKC we call home: Modern living. Really old houses.

This past week

2011-08-03T21:24:00.011-05:00

Our beloved Staci-car was in the shop. I swallowed my pride and drove a mini-van (this particular one was classified as a midsized car) so my long legged three-year-old would have plenty of room.

I finally [FINALLY] got Jake in a bow tie. I'm sure this is something like what heaven feels like.

We ate about a million strawberries.

Jake traded in his old bike for a new [old] bike.

We bought a second vehicle. No joke. More to come on this decade long dream of mine.

I discovered a black widow in our garage. After a few days of goose bumps every time I walked in, and a restless night thinking about it, I took action. I killed that spider with my bare hands on the trigger of some spider spray.

And finally...It rained. It was a surprise. I love surprises.

PS: Cora is all set to start school in a few weeks. Hooray! [And a little sniffle too.]

Broccoli Soup

2011-08-03T16:13:00.005-05:00

This was our lunch. It was good. It was easy. It's a million degrees outside, and this made the inside of our house hot for a while, but it was worth it.

2 T. non-hydrogenated margarine or olive oil

1 medium onion, diced

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 large or 2 smaller/medium potatoes, peeled and diced

Pinch of thyme (the dried kind)

1/2 t. salt

4 cups vegetable broth or seasoned water like I use

1 16 ounce package frozen broccoli

Melt butter and cook onions until translucent.

Add garlic, stirring constantly until fragrant, about 1 minute

Add potatoes, thyme, salt and broth/water

Simmer 10 minutes

Add broccoli

Cook 10 more minutes until potatoes are tender.

Puree in food processor in small batches all the soup is a smooth consistency.

Put it in a yellow bowl, if you have one.

Enjoy.

Jesus Loves Me - According to Cora

2011-07-31T22:39:00.005-05:00

This video is from Magnolia's first birthday. Cora was singing songs at the piano and she started singing "No, Jesus don't love me." She'd been singing this version for about a week. She went to camp over the summer, and one of the songs that the music guy taught the little kids really messed up her image of Jesus for a while. It's a weird song, most people agreed on that point. Anyway, I'm pretty sure she's back to loving Jesus, but this video caught her on the fence ideas about when/if she really wanted Jesus to love her.

Here's what I got of her saying:

It’s just a little song. No I just play a whole bunch of songs

They are weak but he is strong.

No….Yes…

Jesus loves me when I am nice to my grandma.

Yes Jesus loves me. Yes Jesus loves me. Yes Jesus loves me. The bible tells him so.

Yes Jesus loves me. Jesus loves me He is strong.

Sometimes Jesus don’t love me.

But there’s no way…

How to die…

That’s a great song.

PS: The song to avoid if you want to avoid mass confusion about Jesus in a three-year-old is this:

"If I had a little white box to put my Jesus in,

I'd take him out and "kiss kiss kiss"

And share him with my friends.

If I had a little black box to put the devil in,

I'm take him out and SMASH HIM IN THE FACE (yes, this part was yelled)

And put him right back in."

I think she got the whole smash him in the face and Jesus part mixed up. I can't blame her, I was disturbed by the song too, and I know the difference.

PSS: This video was shot over a month and a half ago, but I just got it from the friend who shot it. She's back to singing the normal version now. This was just the last half of her singing that we caught on video. It was just so funny to listen to her pounding out this tune. She LOVED camp. (LOVED is an understatement, she talks about going all the time - it's been fun trying to teach her what once a year means) This was just one of those quirky little things that only a three-year-old could glean from that song. I'm sure she'll be at camp every year for as long as she can go, and I will be glad for her because I think it's a wonderful place.

Lost and Found

2011-07-29T17:24:00.000-05:00

Jake: [wandering around with his dress shirt] Where's the ironing board?

[Both of us look around puzzled]

[still more time goes by]

[...]

BrieAnn: OH!!! It's on the back of the door!

[hysterical laughter]

Now you know how much ironing happens in our home.

To our credit, when we moved here, we got rid of our freestanding ironing board for one that hangs out on the back of the hallway closet door. It has now been used once.

Kitchen Progress

2011-07-25T23:11:00.012-05:00

After looking at The Lettered Cottage, and having lived with mauve floral wallpaper border for as long as I could stand it, I decided I would give our kitchen a temporary makeover until we could take care of the real thing. It was going to be easy: Wallpaper removal and new paint.

And then Jake came home from work early.

You see, our future plans didn't have the furdown/soffit. And it included open shelving, and more of the chimney being exposed. Jake said he could take the cabinets down pretty easily. Well, the soffit was in the way. Curiosity got the best of us, and I gave Jake permission to knock a hole in the furdown/soffit to see what was behind it. It could only be big enough that we could easily patch over it. Well....one hole wasn't big enough. So he made two...and then it all came down.

And it was so spontaneous, we hadn't covered anything. Demo of any size is messy.

The thing is, drywall was only below the cabinets. The rest was really, really old plaster board. So after a lot of youtube videos, we took on the drywall. We ended up doing a pretty good job for first timers. We have one bubble on a piece of tape, but something covers it anyway.

It was finally time to pull out the paint. Everything I'd seen of the color was great...until I put it on the cabinets. Country blue, anyone? I mean, I should have left the mauve wallpaper and the complete set of mid-80's cabinets. I decided to give it a while to see if it grew on me. It didn't. I ended up going with Flagstone, rather than Marina Gray - both by Benjamin Moore.

I love the white, though. It's White Dove by BM. It's the perfect creamy white, not too pink or yellow.
This is what the rest of our house looked like. Are you wondering about the light fixture in the dining room? Yes, it is an old turbine. Jake and I went to a newer furniture store when they were having a super sweet sale. We had no idea how expensive everything was going to be (the pieces are amazing, completely worth it), after being in decorating heaven and talking to one of the coolest collective staffs ever, we were on our way out, and I saw this. And then I looked at the tag and saw the red spot that meant 75% off. It was our first official purchase for Dot. The lighting is so soft and warm, it's like candle light, and the pattern on the wall coming through the turbine...perfect.

We have the walls painted as well as the cabinets, but we were awaiting the arrival of our shelves that Vaughn took to his shop and had finished for us.

New shelves. They are perfect.

And here, in all of the bad lighting is pretty much where we're at today, technically the day before yesterday.

We still need trim around the top of the cabinets as well as new paint on the ceiling (which will eventually be covered in bead board - you know, when we really re-do the kitchen). Please ignore the floor. I want to find some super cheap vinyl faux wood flooring to get us by, even though not totally necessary, it would just bring in some warmth. Every room needs some "natural" element. Oh, and we couldn't get our stove to go back all the way, so it's sticking out too far. It's not abnormally large or anything. And I've been thinking about painting the uppers gray, too. But I probably won't. But I like the new gray, a lot...I think the flooring just keeps throwing me for a loop.

PS: Isn't this a friendly pair?

Edwin and Regina.

I'd posted a picture of Regina, and our friend Tammy saw it and told Tracey that her mom had one just like it. And then she said we could have it. While they're not identical, I really like them for their differences. I think one of the great tragedies of good design came about in the form of matching furniture sets. Sure, they're easy (dot. dot. dot.), but they end up being much less interesting.

(I love their low profile and transparent nature.)

Thanks Dorothy and Tammy!

Jesus, Doubt, and Peach Pie

2011-07-25T21:01:00.009-05:00

If e'er I had to pick a pie to make for Jesus, it would be the one I made tonight.

The crust is legendary. It comes out amazing every time. The filling was perfect for this summer evening. My mother-in-law, Tracey, and I had a pie making lesson from one of the sweetest women I know. I didn't really like crust until I had a Sue Anderson pie (cherry to be exact). Now I'm smitten with it, but only hers, even if someone else makes her recipe, it's still her crust. It's so flaky, but it's chewy too. Perfect, I tell you. Absolutely perfect.

Jesus would love that crust.

And I was needing some peaches in my life, so I looked up a vegan peach pie recipe, adapted it to what I had, and it happened to be a good one.

1 bag of frozen peaches, thawed (or mostly thawed. I was impatient)
1 t. lemon juice
1/3 c. flour
3/4 c. sugar (I LOVED how rich this pie was, but you could decrease the sugar and be just fine)
1/2 t. cinnamon
1/4 t. salt

Preheat oven to 350.
Place peaches in large bowl and toss with lemon juice.
Whisk flour, sugar, cinnamon, and salt in small bowl, then combine with peaches.
Add peach mixture to 9-inch pie plate with bottom crust prepared.
Place top crust over pie.
Crimp edges.
Vent the top crust (I chose a petal pattern).
Lightly brush top with soy milk (or other non-dairy milk of your choice)
Sprinkle with sugar.

Bake for 1 hour.
Let cool (or not).
Enjoy it with all your heart.

I'm sure Jesus would have preferred fresh peaches from a tree I grew and nurtured on my own. Hopefully in a few seasons, as Peepaw has offered us a little baby peach tree, I will be able to accommodate this.

And I really wish I could have some face time with the afore mentioned Savior. I don't want to go back in time, I want him here. I want to spend a late afternoon discussing everything that has been heavy (and light) on my heart. Back in his day, I wouldn't have had the foresight to see the influence of Christianity now. What would he think of it? This man who hung with "sinners." (You can read that all kinds of ways.) This man who challenged all to be the best they could be through thoughts and acts of kindness, compassion, and love. This man who rebuked pride. Who mended broken hearts, healed physical wounds, was present at miracles that give so many hope. I want to know how he so perfectly stood up for everyone, for people "holy men" condemned. This man who was more than a man.

Christ of the Ozarks, Eureka Springs, AR

We'd sit on the edge of Lake Michigan at Promontory Point because I love it there. He would wonder what that "thing" was not so far off shore with me, even though I'm sure he knows the answer. We'd have an intellectual conversation about the world and about hope, with all of the things we need to have hope because of in-between. (Intellect, to me, is a balance of mind and heart.) For as much as I wonder about heaven sometimes, I'm far more interested in earth at this phase of my life. How can we become united while maintaining our differences. How can we love each other unconditionally despite our religious sect, our sexuality, our gender, the language we speak, the color of our skin? I want to see how sad we make him, and I also want to see the joy he feels because of us. I just want to sit next to him and listen to what he thinks about what I believe in, the doubts I have. Hours and hours would go by. He'd listen while I cry, and I'd do the same. Just me and Jesus and a peach pie. No plates, just two forks. I'd offer him the last bite, but I know he wouldn't take it.

Outside of Thorncrown Chapel, Eureka Springs, AR

I've been obsessing

2011-07-24T22:46:00.002-05:00

Our car, Staci, is acting up. Our one car. The only car we have. This is the second time this year.

We bought this car a few weeks before we moved to Chicago (about 2 years ago). We bought her because the transmission went out on our old car, you know, the one that was paid for. We bought her because she was cheap and didn't have very many miles, and we were going to be in Chicago, we were hardly going to drive anyway (and we didn't...drive much).

And then we moved back to Oklahoma. And we drive a lot. Not a lot like some people drive a lot. I mean, I'm a stay at home mom, and Jake rides his bike less than a mile to work, but a lot more than we did.

Rather than being in the market for longevity, we were in the market for lowest miles/lowest payment. We were very successful. I really like our car. I do. We also bought her about 2 months before Magnolia was conceived. :) If I could have had eyes for the near future, we would have looked for something a little bigger.

So back to the point - and the title. We haven't been able to get her into the dealership yet, but I have been obsessively looking for a different car. I know exactly what I want. It's just a matter of finding "the one" that works with our budget. We went to a dealership last night and test drove a few options.

Cora was beside herself at the thought of not having "Staci Car." She loves our car. Loves is an understatement. I am also quite fond. She's not my dream car, but I really appreciate her for all that she is.

I'm going to just keep going.....

I have this thing for cars. I've been able to name every make and model since I can remember. When I was 3, I would say "ohh, a beemer" every time I saw a BMW. No joke. And I said it in my head until well into my teens. I also know completely random facts about different models, and I don't know how I know them, I just do. I like driving. I like cars. I like knowing how they work. I used to like racing people off the line. My first car, Lou, an 88 Buick LeSabre never lost.

Anyway, I guess Staci acting up, and me not wanting to put a bunch of money into her has pushed me over the edge. I'm me. Of course I jump at any little opportunity to go drive different cars. And because Staci isn't the most powerful under the hood, one of the seriously least powerful engines ever.... You get my point. I have scoured local dealerships. There's a car I love in Dallas (of course...everything is in Dallas - like IKEA), but ugh. (Dallas isn't even a local dealership! Why was I looking there?!? I have completely lost it.)

I just don't know if continuing to fix Staci will be worth it in the end, or if it would be super silly to dive into different car-dom if Staci is an easy fix.

Here and There

2011-07-21T14:34:00.005-05:00

Cora is three. That's not new. She is three and she will be starting school in less than one month. We were so late to the game in contacting the school that we hope she'll go to. We're waiting to see if we get financial aid. I'm hopeful, but it's so late in the year, I'm also a little anxious.

SHE'S THREE! This is not college. This is not like trying to get her into the school she has her heart set on, even though she does have her heart set on school. She's three, and this process is making me scatter-brained - not because the school is making it complicated, but because this is the first time I've had to do this, and it seems crazy that I am doing it. I mean, she was born yesterday, right?

Jake and I are huge on learning. We want to give our girls wonderful educational opportunities. I want them to have a chance to be in stimulating intellectual circles. I want them to find their passions and have everything they need to nurture and follow them. Ideas are so powerful. I want them to be able to work through their own ideas and the ideas of others.

Anyway, I will be on pins and needles until we receive our official financial aid package. I want this to be possible for us.

"Throw your soul through every open door."

All[s] I know is...

2011-07-19T21:33:00.003-05:00

A new roof is going on part of the elementary school across the street.

It's hotter than blazes here.

The roofers work at night.

There is heavy machinery.

They've been working on it for over a week.

Tonight they started scraping gravel across the parking lot while loading it in their front loader.

Did I mention they work all night? Until about 6 in the morning.

Dot is across the street from a construction site that only works at night, and all of our bedrooms are on that side. I mean, I don't know how long it takes to put a roof on, but I do know that when it's done, it should be quite some time before all of this happens again. I guess waking up with puffy eyes with an occasional dose of bloodshot will be in my future for the next few days...and hopefully no more than that.

(This is a poor example of what is going on...you can't even see the guys on the roof...magnify it by the brightness of the sun and the sound of a big tractor...complete with reverse beeps...and men yelling to one another. All.night.long.)

Spontaneous Demolition

2011-07-13T21:33:00.004-05:00

It started out with me starting to remove the lovely late 80's, early 90's wallpaper border from around our kitchen.

I wanted something more tolerable than peachy-pinkish white paint and mauve floral wallpaper. I mean, a temporary fix that would get us by until we got our new kitchen.

Jake came home from work early...

He reminded me of my desire for open shelving, and said he could try taking one of the cabinets down. I reminded him that this was supposed to be easy. He said it would be. Just taking down a few screws and pulling the cabinet out.

After a while, I consented. He took the screws out, the cabinet was jammed in the fur down/soffit. We eventually wanted to take that down anyway. I told him he could make a hole in it no bigger than what we could easily patch. He did. And he couldn't see what he needed to. The hole got bigger and then became two holes, and you already know where this is going...

In the process, we exposed a lot more of that old chimney. My heart is so happy about that.

We're picking up drywall and stuff for open shelving tomorrow. Don't worry, I already picked up the paint...you know, back when this was going to be easy. The uppers/shelves will be White Dove by Benjamin Moore. The lowers will be Marina Gray by BM. The walls will be the same as the rest of the house: Halo.

Wish us luck.

Trees

2011-07-09T23:34:00.003-05:00

Today was full in the lives of women I know. My best friend from high school's sister got married, a wonderful mother brought a new baby into her family, and a sweet friend's mother passed away.

Today, we bought trees. Our neighborhood is full of beautiful, big trees. Most of the streets are lined with them. Our block seems to have missed the memo. We feel an obligation to do what we can to carry on the tree-lined theme, and being that we are on a corner not, we have lots of space calling for a trees to make their home there. After a lot of research and looking at pictures, we decided that the trees that will line our little portion of the hood will be Chinese Pistaches. They will be here on Tuesday. We will plant them in the fall.

A row of Chinese Pistache trees.

There is a large tree in our backyard. I had no idea what it was until two hours ago. I matched it's leaf pattern to one on-line and found that it is an American Elm. It has thus far survived the ravages of Dutch Elm Disease, and it is the same kind of tree as the Survivor Tree at the Oklahoma City National Memorial. I like that. We're still looking for the perfect tree for our front yard. I thought I really wanted a Weeping Willow. It's not totally out, but I've lately been looking at and leaning towards a Washington Hawthorn. (And I still haven't ruled out a Redbud either, Oklahoma's state tree.)

Survivor Tree

All of this tree talk has made me think of Hootie and the Blowfish and their song "Not Even the Trees," which can be summarized as a mother's passing at the birth of her son and the father's trying to cope. While I've been thinking those words [not even the trees], I've been feeling them to "Let Her Cry" by the same group and on the same album [Cracked Rear View]. (Seriously awesome album name.)

Sometimes I wish certain things could last forever - like the sweet melancholy of my favorite music from the 90's. Or that every day, all the time, head over heels, swoony, just married feeling. Or newborn babies. Or in-person mother-daughter relationships. Or the night I sat freezing in the back of the afore mentioned little sister's truck with the afore mentioned best friend star gazing. This is some of the best stuff in life. But there are always other things, things that are just as good - and better.

For now, I'll just keep thinking about trees. I'd like to spend an evening with everyone I love, separately, lying on quilts underneath softly rustling leaves talking about the simple things that make our world go round.

A random picture from Ravina - the place where I shared one of the best evenings I've ever had under trees with friends.

2011-07-08T15:25:00.002-05:00

It's hotter 'n fire today, and Jake decided to remove a stump from our front yard. He succeeded.

We've been looking for a great three-year-old program for Cora. We've been strIIIIIIking out. Hopefully soon. Both the schools we've visited so far have specifically mentioned cutting and gluing as activities. Those are fine and good, but they are free at home. And she's already pretty rockin' at them. She's also pretty close to mastering the task of writing her name.

We're going to LIVE! on the Plaza tonight. Hounds of the Heartland will be there. It's a greyhound rescue, and they will have Delta, a dog we've been in the talks of adopting. It will be our first meeting. I feel excited. And a little nervous about extra responsibility.

I've been hot for the last week. It's the pits. This heat wave is the pits.

I'm going to Hawaii tomorrow. That's not true. But it would be awesome if it was.

I had something else to say. I can't remember.

Jake and I are going to plant like 7 trees around our house. Shade. And we've been anxiously awaiting the results of the soil sample we sent off, so we know what we need to grow some grass. Because we have a lot of weeds and clover right now. It's not that great. It will be.

I had a super awesome time in Bentonville, AR for the Fourth. You see, I have a cousin, Alissa, who has been there for quite a while, and we haven't seen one another since her dad's funeral in Nov. 2003. Sad. But we remedied that. She has four girls. They are all so sweet. Cora cried when we left. I don't blame her. If it wasn't so hot, I'd post pictures. But that extra expenditure of energy would put me over the edge.

Gets me every time

2011-07-01T22:53:00.004-05:00

Beethoven Sonata No. 31 A flat major, Opus 110
Movement 2

I love surprises.

I've been singing my version of this to Jake so he could play it and tell me what it was. He finally understood my singing and my soul can be at rest because I can name that tune.

And, from what I can tell, there are Mozart camps and Beethoven camps (and everything in between). If I had to pick a flag to fly. It would definitely be Beethoven. Mozart is so clean (and perfect feeling). I like things a little muddy. Beethoven gets that.

Black Bean Salad

2011-07-01T21:33:00.002-05:00

I love this stuff. I could eat it every day of my life and never get tired of it. Really. Like fo' shiz' really. We had it for lunch today, and I couldn't believe I didn't think of it yesterday in my first round of "staples."

2 cans black beans, rinsed and drained
2 roma tomatoes, diced
1/2 - 1 c frozen corn, thawed
1 avocado, peeled, pitted, diced
1 TBL lime juice
a few cilantro leaves
dash of garlic powder
salt/pepper to taste

Combine all ingredients in medium bowl and toss together.

Enjoy it with a fork, tortilla chips, in a tortilla, or over some lettuce. You will be in-love, too.

Note: You can pretty much use whatever kind of beans you have on hand. Today we used pinto and Great Northern. And because you either love or hate cilantro, use it or don't.

Four Staples

2011-06-30T21:42:00.004-05:00

A while back, I said that I would post some of our favorite family recipes. I forgot. Today I got a message from one of my cousins (I have 38 of them on my mom's side...I'm 33rd) requesting some child friendly recipes. Cora isn't a "normal" child eater. I guess I mean she's never been too picky. She goes through phases, but overall, she tries just about anything we put past her. With that said, she does have her favorites.

Her most favorite in the whole wide world, the meal she requested for her third birthday, the she gobbles is up every single time meal is:

Spicy Red Beans and Brown Rice

Don't let the title fool you, I'm just quoting it from the Get Healthy, Go Vegan Cookbook by Dr. Neal Barnard. This is my adaptation. And I always double it.

1 TBL olive oil

1 onion, chopped

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 1/2 c brown rice (not instant!)

3 cups of water (or vegetable broth...I just season the water my own way and save some money and sodium intake)

1 (14.5 oz) can diced tomatoes, with liquid

1 tsp chopped canned chipotle pepper in adobo sauce (this is the spicy part. You can omit this altogether if you don't like any spice and single members of the family can use tabasco to add some heat. I love the flavor, but a little goes a long way, I only use about 1/2 tsp. And if you have no idea what this is: It's with all of the Mexican/Latin foods...)

1 (15 oz) can red kidney beans, drained and rinsed.

salt and pepper to taste

1. Heat olive oil in medium sauce pan (or a big one if doubling) over medium heat. Put in the onion and saute for 3 minutes. Add garlic and stir constantly until fragrant (less than a minute). Add brown rice and saute for 2 minutes.

2. Add broth, tomatoes, and chipotle pepper. Bring to a boil. Lower heat and lightly simmer for about 45 minutes, until the rice is cooked through. Add beans and cook for 2 minutes. Season with salt and black pepper.

Three-Bean Barley Chili

This is a great chili. We double is as well and use the left overs in enchiladas with a chipotle cream sauce...that will be another day. This recipe is adapted from Supermarket Vegan by Donna Klein.

4 c water

2 c salsa

1 can rotel (if doubling, use one can of Rotel and one can of diced tomatoes)

1 3/4 cups of water (again my own specially seasoned water or 1 can of vegetable broth)

1 c barley (I always use the fast cooking kind because it's the only one I can find)

2 TBL olive oil

1 1/2 TBL chili powder (or to taste...play it cool for less spice)

1/2 TBL ground cumin

1/2 tsp salt

pepper to taste

Cayenne pepper to taste, optional

1 can red kidney beans, rinsed and drained

1 can black beans, rinsed and drained

1 can Great Northern (or any white bean), rinsed and drained

1 c corn, fresh off the cob or frozen

1. In a medium stockpot, combine water, salsa, tomatoes and their liquids, water/broth, barley, oil, chili power, cumin, salt, pepper, and cayenne. Bring to a boil over high heat, stirring occasionally.

2. Reduce heat to low/medium low, cover, and simmer until barley is just tender (the time will depend on the kind of barley you're using. If you're using regular, all-out barley, it will be about 40 minutes. I usually use the kinds that's done in 10 minutes).

3. Add beans and corn and return to boil. Reduce heat, let simmer uncovered until mixture is slightly thickened, stirring occasionally, about 5 minutes.

Winter Vegetable Potage

I LOVE this soup. The flavor combination is wonderful. This one is also adapted from the Get Healthy, Go Vegan Cookbook.

5 1/2 c seasoned water or vegetable broth

1 1/2 c onion, chopped

1 c carrots, chopped

1 c fennel, finely chopped*

salt to taste

1 c green cabbage, sliced

1 medium sweet potato (about 1 1/2 c), peeled and chopped

1/2 c rutabaga, peeled and chopped*

pepper to taste

1 c chopped broccoli

*I've made this without these two ingredients. They aren't somethingI typically have on hand. I just add extra onion and cabbage in their places.

1. Heat 1/2 c water/broth in large pan over medium-high heat. Add the onions, carrots and fennel. Season with salt and saute for 7 to 8 minutes.

2. Add remaining 5 c water/broth, cabbage, sweet potatoes, and rutabaga and season with more salt, if necessary, and black pepper. Bring to a boil. Cover pot and simmer on low for 15 minutes or until vegetables are tender. Add broccoli and cook for 5 minutes.

Pizza

Homemade pizza is always so fun. We have it a lot at our house. Be creative with your toppings. Think outside the cheese and meat (obviously), you will be so surprised at all of the wonderful combinations you can make. My favorite right now consists of tomatoes, spinach, fresh basil, olives, mushrooms, red onions, bell peppers and jalapenos. I spread some super cheap "Zesty" spaghetti sauce (it comes in a can) as a base. I love this stuff. At any rate, I've tried several different crusts. This one is my favorite go to right now, and I don't think it's just because of how fast it is...no rising! Makes 2 crusts.

2 TBL yeast

1 c warm water

1 tsp salt

4 TBL oil

3 c flour

Italian seasoning or some other favorite seasoning, optional

1. Preheat oven to 425. Mix yeast in luke warm water in mixing bowl (I use my KitchenAid stand mixer with dough hook) until yeast is dissolved. Let is stand for a few minutes.

2. Add salt, oil, seasoning if using, and 2.5 cups of flour. Mix. Add more flour as needed for dough to form ball. It shouldn't be sticky, but you don't want too much flour or it gets dry.

3. Divide dough in two. Roll out dough and place it on pan or stone. Poke holes in it with a fork, and cook for 5 minutes (more if using a stone...like upwards of 10 minutes...5 is perfect if using a jelly roll pan).

4. Remove from oven and spread small amount of oil.

5. Add your toppings and bake for 15-20 minutes...until spots on the crust just start turning the perfect golden brown.

6. Enjoy it. Enjoy it with all your heart.

I'll add more soon. There's a great, super simple chickpea snack we love.

News

2011-06-28T22:35:00.003-05:00

I have good news, and I have bad news.

Good: I finally tried Cool Mint Oreos.

Bad: I finally tried Cool Mint Oreos.

They taste like thin mints. They are vegan. I'm finally three pounds below the dreaded weight I could never break after Cora and before Magnolia. I am in trouble. DARN YOU mint and chocolate craving. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I picked up this package a little before six this evening (not my first package), and it's almost gone. Almost an entire package of oreos in one day. Not even a whole day!

Ugh.

I mean yum.

I mean...Seven pounds to pre-pregnancy weight. I can hold strong. Today was tough. I don't depend on the bottle, so oreos had to suffice. I bought TWO packages.

AHHHH!

Does anyone want a package of mint oreos? Anyone, please. Put me out of my misery.

Why I don't miss cheese

2011-06-25T21:29:00.002-05:00

The most common thing I hear when I tell people I'm vegan is:

"I could never do that. I like cheese way too much."

I take it in and laugh a little to myself. I LOVED cheese. (and cookie dough shakes from Braum's.) Loved it, and I loved going to Cattlemen's for prime rib my birthday and partaking of their house dressing (a garlicky ranch). I guess I laugh at the slight fallacy that perhaps they love cheese more than I did - the one who went through, on average, a pound of cheese a week - and that was just at home. Who knows how much I consumed elsewhere?

Anyway, I don't eat cheese anymore. I've officially been vegan for about six months, and I can't imagine ever going back. Here's why:

I spent a great deal of my life as a sufferer of seasonal allergies. I'm not talking a few sneezes and a runny nose, I'm talking upper-respiratory infections at least twice a year, and that was a good year. In my middle and high school days I would get bronchitis at least once a year (but usually twice) - all thanks to the respiratory complications of my allergies. And on top of that... Allergy induced asthma. I have a huge collection of handkerchiefs for aesthetic and practical reasons.

I was hunkering down as spring rolled around, I had all of my allergy medications lined up. People around me started suffering as the season changed, but wow, not me. Like this is an absolute miracle. I used to pray for relief, but after so many doctor visits and different medications growing up, I had succumb to my fate.

I ran in high school: Cross-country all four years, and track for like a season and a half. You see, they were both at the worst time of the year for an allergy sufferer. I loved running, but I hated it too. I was always so full of allergy medicine that I was super dried out, you know how allergy medicine does that. Allergy medicine and inhalers were my constant companion. I made it to state in cross-country my junior year, and I ran a 60 second split in a 4x400 relay my senior year. Those were good days. You see, I was sick on the actual state championship race day - I still came in slightly on the better half of middle, phew - I could never be consistent, which is super frustrating if you're working hard every day at something. There's nothing worse than pushing it, working as hard as possible, and then just having your body flake out on you because it's being deprived of a little thing like oxygen.

Anyway - the urge to run comes in waves with me. If you've been reading for an extended period of time, you probably know that. I am on an up swing of needing to run. I'm just so curious how different it will be without the bulk of the respiratory problems of my past.

But this post isn't really about running. It's about this very magical thing I could have never imagine. Something I truly never thought possible - cutting dairy out of my diet has completely taken the suffering out of seasonal allergies (aka that place we do not speak of), has taken seasonal allergies away from me. So, sometimes I get the urge for an ooey gooey pizza, sure, but only when I'm really hungry, and only until I think of how awful I used to feel. I wouldn't go back at all if it means that my bouts with seasonal allergies and all the poo they bring with them are gone for good. I can't even express how grateful I am that I happened upon (ha...happened over a thoughtful transition that took several years) this new way of life.

PS: It's also done wonders for Cora. She, too, was following in my footsteps. She had 10-12 ear infections in 2010, they were all caused by the drainage that would roll around from allergies. She had one at the very beginning of this year, before she'd completely gone dairy free. That's all.

Notes on Parenting

2011-06-23T21:35:00.003-05:00

I went to a parenting class at church tonight. It was wonderful for all kinds of reasons. The content, for sure, but being able to listen to it because sweet Laurie Bithell took Magnolia from me after I'd taken her out into the hall. Thank you, Laurie, thank you. It's good to be around you again.

One of the women who presented, Mary Bliss Hassell, discussed the five things that can help women go from anxious pull their hair out type moms, to ones who are relaxed and experience an ease in motherhood.

1. Fill your reservoirs. [AKA take a break.] We all need a moment to sit back and relax and feed our souls in whatever way we can with whatever time we can steal away. She said "Be where you are - appreciate what you have." She was talking about a mother of 9 in Anchorage, AK, and she doesn't get many moments. Sometimes her break is just walking out the front door and looking at the lights on the leaves. That's it. She's put something back that gets lost in the constant care of others. And then Mary Bliss said the part that resonated most with me: "Take a break that allows you to accomplish something." You might get a break, but you don't see any progress, and you usually need a break because you're not seeing any progress or feeling any sense of accomplishment. We should, after all, be filling our reservoirs. You know when we zone out on facebook or in front of the tv? If we have to dive back into the daily grind after something that isn't really giving us anything, it wasn't really a very useful break.

2. Every difficulty is an opportunity to be creative - use your interests and gifts to interact with children and solve problems. She handed out a card with several attributes like: Morning Productive, Evening Productive, Steady, Structured, Athletic, Concerned, Intellectual...so on and on. We each looked through and associated ourselves with some of these attributes. She then made the point that no one would really pick all of the same things, and we should use our individual gifts make home and family life better.

3. Give kids more attention. It will reassure them that you're there when they need you. They'll have more confidence and come to you less often. She used the example of the second you get on the phone, your kids need you. You usually try to get them to do something else, but they just come back more and more. If your kids need you, always take the time to stop and touch base. Focus on them. Focus [period]

4. "Get the kitchen floor to shut-up." It's difficult to discover the right order of what should be done when juggling the jobs of both mother and homemaker. She read something amazing that I wish I had verbatim, but it was about a mother up at 6 AM, taking stock of her home and what needed to be done, and already feeling behind. She went on about the tasks before her, but then decided that it didn't matter if dishes were left undone, or pillows unfluffed if she'd taken the time to do something with her children because a house can go from clean to dirty in less than a minute. A recommendation of giving days to tasks was given. Make Friday [or any day] the day you clean the kitchen floor, so you have power over it. If it starts talking out of turn, you can look at it and let it know that it's not it's turn yet. And if Friday rolls around, and one of your kids needs you, wait until next Friday.

5. Consider your speech. Celebrate the positive without that little dig of negativity. We're often sarcastic about certain things, even if we're being positive, but those little negative digs are so damaging. Be kind to yourself.

The next portion of the evening was about Disciplining with Love by Diane Pratt - this is where Magnolia started the show signs of fatigue, so my notes are spotty.

Set limits. As parents, we have to figure out the boundaries for our home. She used an example of one of her children saying that a certain family got to play a game, and he didn't know why they couldn't have it. She replied with "that's great for them, but in this house, we don't play it." We are only the parents of our children, and regardless of what other parents are doing with their kids, the boundaries are set for a reason and we can't waver just because so and so has different limits than we do. That's them, this is us. There is no competition.

When communicating with our children, get down on their level. Be eye to eye, and don't yell. Don't create bad habits.

Separate your child's mistakes from the person they are. You can use things like "This isn't you" when pointing out some sort of behavior you're not happy with. And bolster that with positive reinforcement...Like "This isn't the kind, intelligent child I know." You're expressing disappointment while bolstering the attributes you know they have and want them to show more often.

"Choose to be a great mother." She said this right at the end, but wow, choose it, really. It's simple, but it's one of those things that's great to hear. She discussed the divinity of our children right before, after sharing a really touching story about a father in a situation of serious furry at the behavior of his daughter. When he was on his way to pick her up, a voice clearly said "Be careful what you do with my daughter." It completely changed him and his reaction to the situation. A reminder that our children are more than just our own.

Bouncing Back

2011-06-22T19:06:00.006-05:00

I woke up this morning with a migraine. The investment in the darkest pair of summer shades the day before was one of the best forethought buys of my life. My girls thought it was funny, but I'd already taken the max amount of migraine medication the night before when I felt it coming on, so I was trying anything. Around lunch time, I couldn't take it anymore, and took what amounted to double the recommended dose in 24 hours. About 20 minutes after I took it, my brain started turning to fruit cake. 1.5 hours later the migraine from h-e-double hockey sticks, though definitely not the worst I've ever had, was gone. Phew. I'm still feeling wiped out.

In other news...

Jake is playing for Lyric Theatre's production of OLIVER!. I went to opening night last night thanks to Vaughn and Tracey coming up and staying with our girls. It was wonderful. It's playing through June 25th.

We spent the weekend accessorizing Dot. She's looking pretty fabulous. I love bougainvillea. My childhood babysitter had a huge bougainvillea in her front yard. We (all the kids who were "sat" by her) would hide underneath it.

The first day ever Cora took the initiative to put her shoes on all by her self.

Proud moment. I let her wear them all over on the wrong feet.

And last, but not least...

Something fabulous needs to go above the mantel. I want a dreamy landscape with some beautiful cool hues. I'm in love with Regina Murphy, but my favorites of her fanciful landscapes are sold*. The wall is about five feet wide. Keep a look out.

And then there's always Sky Above Clouds IV by Georgia O'Keeffe, but it's a little bigger than my wall. And the Art Institute would miss it. And I would miss it there. You know, when I go back someday...

*And pretty far above my price range, but I love her anyway.

The Great Experiment

2011-06-20T10:24:00.004-05:00

Dot's square footage is up for debate, but there's no arguing the fact that she's on the smaller side of today's American home standards. I know this because one day at playgroup, before we officially closed, someone asked how big she was, and I'm pretty sure there was an audible gasp when I mentioned the specs. And then at Wal-mart, I ran into someone I know who knew we'd just moved, and he asked if we bought a "nice big house." I think he was disappointed when the answer was no.

Anyway, the debate is over two conflicting square feet evaluations. We bought her knowing that she had 1138 square feet, that's what it is according to the county assessor. When we got the assessment back from the bank, they put her over 1200 square feet. Wow, we're moving up. Either way, most families would shy away from a house this size all together. Did I mention two bedrooms and one bathroom? There's also an office, that Magnolia is currently using as a bedroom. The room that Cora and Magnolia will share is 14x14. I don't really know how big our bedroom is...brb

Okay, our room is just shy of 12 x just over 11. I think the perfect sized bedroom is 12x12, so we're almost there. We got rid of a dresser and the night-stand from our bedroom set. I was reading about bungalows one day, before we found Dot, and it said that everyone should have the opportunity to live in one. They're completely utilitarian, you can fit what you need, and live comfortably. In talking about bedrooms, it said, a bed and a chest of drawers is all you need. I took them up on that advice. Though we also have a trunk and a chair in our room. It's perfect. And less drawers means less places to accumulate things I don't really need.

One of my three resolutions for this year was to Live with less. And we've been working on it all year, but when we found Dot, I had a moment of panic. Buy a house that's an experiment? Can we really do it? The answer is yes. We're still in a bit of disarray. There are three boxes of things that are going to go in our studio (We have a small soon-to-be studio space behind our garage), as soon as a few things get picked up, which will happen tomorrow, phew. With all the purging we've done, I feel like there's always more that I could do without. That's a nice feeling.

So, less storage space means more creativity. I know I'm going to arrange and rearrange things a few times before it's at optimal convenience level. I'm excited to have my father-in-law on board for some storage/canopy beds for the girls. It will be rad. Aside from our indoor living space, we also have two decks and a front porch, so we're taking advantage. Jake put together four chairs this weekend. It's liberating knowing that we don't need a house to match our stuff - that we can pare down and have stuff that matches our home and life. Did I mention Dot has twenty-seven windows? I'm talking walls full, and I'm quite certain nothing makes a home feel bigger than that.

Pickles and Jalapeños and Watermelon.

2011-06-19T19:46:00.005-05:00

I've been really into pickles lately. Pickles and jalapeños in a jar. What I really suppose this means is that I'm into vinegar. It is the common factor, besides the fact that they're green. And a little seedy. And they both crunch. Though pickles are definitely crunchier than jalapeños. But not as hot.

Do you ever say juh-lop-i-nohs? I do, even though I know how to say it for real. I'm from Arizona. I know how to pronounce things like saguaro, ocotillo, Velasquez, and Canyon De Chelly. And jalapeño. But you already know that.

There was this boy in elementary school, Logan Cooper, and I always thought he smelled like pickles. We rode the same bus in kindergarten. I was going to my babysitter's house from AM kindergarten and he was on his way to PM kindergarten. I would look for him every time, and take note if the pickle smell was present, and it always was. I even asked him if he had a pickle for lunch, and he always said no, and I never believed him.

As I was eating my pickle today, and thinking of Logan Cooper, who had similar tennis shoes to me in second grade (they were unisex. Think of a the white version of Vans...with some Sperry styling), I wondered if his mom was just into canning food. He was Mormon, after all.

Logan was best friends with Jeffrey Adams. He was my for-shiz first-grade crush. He was so dreamy. And he would always win the tether ball court for me, and then we'd play a game or two, depending on the line waiting, and sometimes he'd let me win. Most of the time. And sometimes he would even bloody his knuckles hitting the ball. Whenever I watch Napoleon Dynamite, I think of my little playground hero.

And just because: the name Kelsey always reminds me of watermelon because the first girl I ever knew who was a Kelsey had red hair and freckles. I guess her hair reminded me of watermelon, no, I think she smelled like it one day. So if you have red hair, it reminds me of that beloved summertime melon, and if your name is Kelsey, it does the same, and I think you should have red hair.

Twenty-seven

2011-06-17T18:52:00.009-05:00

Windows. I love them. Big Windows. Lots of them. I love them because they mean light filled rooms. I love them because they mean outside breezes inside.

Dot has 27 windows. That's right. 27. My parents' house in Arizona, the last of theirs I lived in, had 5, that's including their sliding glass door. We have 27 including our French doors, though excluding the single window-filled French door between our room and our office...our office that is Magnolia's room until she moves in with Cora.

I especially love all of the sky I can see from our windows. And I love that they all have thick trim around them. (The first photo also shows the color I finally decided on. It's Halo by Benjamin Moore - The more I see it, the more I enjoy it. Phew. Much Ado.)

One day, while driving home to the house we just moved from, when I was especially missing Chicago, I thought it was so weird that as big as the world is, we spend so much of our time walking back and forth in approximately 1300 sf of it (you can enter the size of your own house). That thought let to another...

Why here?

Why, of all the countries, states, cities, neighborhoods, streets, houses, why this place? I didn't know. Of all the places I could be, I didn't know why I was [t]here. Fast forward to now. I love Dot. I love waking up in the morning here. I love playing in this backyard, across the street from that school. I love walking down these sidewalks with these trees. I love living 1 mile from this city's downtown (I'm still holding out for a fantastic public transportation system) and being 3 blocks from our park.

I still don't have the perfect rug, and I feel clueless about landscaping, and stores in Dallas have my dream dining room set, and my dream kitchen and bathroom are in my mind...BUT they all fit here. And I can't begin to describe the peace that brings. 27 windows and all.

To Baby Brannon on the Day of His Birth

2011-06-15T08:19:00.004-05:00

I was at Target looking at Method cleaning supplies when my phone rang. I looked and saw that it was Becky, your grandma. I was puzzled because it wasn't 4:30, not even close, and that was the time I was expecting to hear news about your mom's dr. appointment.

"Katy's going to the hospital."

My heart started racing. And then she told me how your mom had rescheduled her appointment to go in early because something was going on. Well, you were going on because she was already dilated to a six, and the doctor sent her straight to the hospital.

I methodically spent the next 30 seconds looking at what I was looking at. I didn't want to show up right away. Fashionably late, right? (I'll teach you these things.) I left the store, and on my way home, I realized I was speeding, a lot. Fashionably late wasn't going to work this time. I was excited, and I wanted to be where you were...because you're already that cool.

I dashed into my house to grab some food and entertainment for your cousins, Cora and Magnolia, then I dashed into the garage for the stroller so I could carry all of it in one trip, and we were off. I made it to the hospital in less than 20 minutes from my house. No small feat.

I got there right in the middle of one of your mom's contractions. They'd already broken her water, and let me tell you, as if you'll ever really know (I can't teach you everything)...contractions after broken water are crazy-faced. They were just starting prep for her epidural. I didn't hang out too long. I didn't know she was that far along or I wouldn't have barged in with my stroller-o-fun, but I'm glad I did. I'll tell you why later.

Cora, Magnolia and I hung out in the seriously awesome waiting room for about 20-30 minutes before our other family arrived. Great-Aunt Tracey, Meemaw, Peepaw, Uncdiddy Kory, and Grandpa aka Kerry Brinlee aka Sir came down the hall. They were all so nervous! That's the crazy thing about the transition time of giving birth. Everyone is so excited, but scared at the same time because there are so many unknowns. No matter how routine it is, it's still a mystery. You're safe and warm in your mama's tummy, and you travel a relatively short distance to make it out, but you still have to make it out, and it's still a miracle every time a baby is born. Yes, you are a miracle, too.

I ran to your house (your house that you'll live in for a few days because your parents are moving this weekend) to gather all the things your parents had prepared for your arrival but couldn't grab because of your hastened arrival. (Let this be a lesson: Preparation is super rad, but life will sometimes throw you curve balls, like being dilated to a six (not that you personally will have to worry about that), and you'll have to adjust. Plan B, if you will, and plan B always works out just as well, if not better, than the initial plan.)

I got back and your mom was already pushing. I was like, "Phew, I made it." And then a lot more time went by than what we were all anticipating. In the meantime, we watched this (I'm borrowing your great-aunt Angie's photos - she showed up after I got back with the stuff - with more cousins and a little while later, you other great-grandparents arrived. And your dad's side of the family was anxiously awaiting your arrival from their own homelands. Every time we would call to update someone, they would say they knew because Celeste (Grandma) had posted it on facebook - there were people all over looking forward to your arrival):

Magnolia was watching the storm roll in. We all were.

We had an excellent view.

Angie caught the rad lighting shot after many misses.

After all of that hard work, you had arrived! 7 pounds 7 ounces. We were elated. There was jumping up and down. While we were waiting for you to become acquanited with your mom and dad, the hail came. No joke. Golf ball sized. And then everything went dark outside, and debris was hitting the waiting room windows. We all moved away from the windows. The power went out shortly after, and it took what seemed like forever (less than a minute) for the generators to come on. What a day! The evening ended up being beautiful. This rainbow was just for you, I know it.

Let me tell you a bit about your mama:

She was perfect. I could see the determination in her eyes with each contraction I saw her go through. (Your dad was sweetly encouraging, too) And when I saw you in her arms after you were born, I had tears in my eyes. You were holding onto her finger, and looking up at her. She was made to be yours, and you were made to be hers. You would cry, and she'd gently give you a soft, "shh," and tell you it was okay, and that was enough. I can't wait to see you and your family today. I love you!

Goo

2011-06-10T22:53:00.005-05:00

My little baby turned one today.

Dear Goo,

In the beginning you grunted all night long while sleeping, and spit up a lot after you ate, so I spent many a night sleeping* in our rocking chair while holding you upright to try and avoid the afore mentioned spit up and grunting. You slept well, but Jake and I did not.

We lived in Chicago for most of that phase. We had communal laundry facilities in the basement of our building, and I couldn't wait to move to a place with a washer and dryer in our house to help make all of the laundry from all of the spit up easier.

At seven weeks we left your first home and journeyed back to Oklahoma (you've lived in three houses already, can you believe it?). So much of the last ten months seems like a blur to me, honestly. That's how it goes for mothers. Days in and days out, but the gravity of all that is happening in those days that all seem to blend together [and go by too fast] is evidenced by the love that grows and grows.

Early on, you started talking. Your favorite phrase was "Goo." It was so sweet. You would say it, and we would repeat it, and then you'd say it to us again.

You became my "GooGoo Baby." Some might think Goo is a funny nickname, but I can't help it. You wanted so much to talk with us and be part of us, and you did and you were, and Goo reminds me of that. So, Goo, someday when you're going off to college, which will feel like tomorrow, I'm sure, and I whisper "I love you, Goo" as I send you into the great unknown, you'll know why.

Phew.

For now, I'll love on your squishy cheeks, and blow through your wispy hair, and smile every time I see your perfect gappy front teeth. You're sassy and always let us know what you want. You love your sister, and you rarely shy away from a cuddle. You enjoy dancing and singing. And yelling. You yell a lot. And you are loud. You're not mad or upset, just yelling [and sometimes the volume and consistency make me feel a little ill, but I love that you love to be heard]. You have super tiny hands and feet. You almost wear a size two shoe. But not quite. It's such a miracle to watch your little fingers do big things.

You are a miracle. I can't imagine my life without you and everything you add to me and our family. You've taught me more about how to be a mother - I've grown more confident since you arrived. You like to wake up before seven every morning. And you still like to eat at least twice every night. When you're feeling shy, you put the tip of one finger (usually a pointer) between your teeth...of which you have six. And just in case you are interested, according to my non-technical way of standing on the scale while holding you, you weigh about eighteen pounds.

Happy Birthday, Magnolia. You have and will continue to change my life for the better. You're in bed now, but I can't wait to kiss your head when we encounter one another for our first meeting tonight.

Love. Love. Love. You. You. You. Goo. Goo. Goo. [Baby.]

The Story of Magnolia's Birth

2011-06-09T07:00:00.001-05:00

When we got to the hospital, I looked at the clock in the car. It was approaching nine at night, my contractions were every two-four minutes, just like they usually were when I made the call to go to labor and delivery. I hesitated, wondered out loud if we should just wait and come back in the morning. I had one fine string of something holding my emotions together, and being sent home one more time without a baby would have severed it completely. So there I was...there we were, Jake, Tracey, Cora, in-utero Magnolia and I. Thirty-six weeks and six days pregnant, stripped membranes, contractions, and a promise my doctor made earlier that morning that she wouldn't send me home (she'd made the same promise a few days before, broke it, but I loved her anyway).

I made the trip up to Labor and Delivery, waited patiently to be hooked up to the monitors. When the nurse took me back, I asked if I could just go home. I did, really. She looked at me, puzzled, and said, "Well, you didn't have to come in." Right. Then she said, "Let's just see how everything is going." I think I cried a little.

I changed into a gown, left the standard sample, got hooked up to the machine. The best part was always getting to hear my baby's heartbeat. Soothing. The resident came in and after a bit of talk and a confirmation that I was in fact having regular contractions and was dilated to a five, she called my doctor. She came back in and asked if I wanted to walk a bit. Me? Walk a bit? I'd been averaging three miles a day trying to move things along. While Jake was coming up to walk around with me, my doctor, Dr. Hampton, called back and basically got the show on the road. I was moved to a delivery room.

They started a low dose of Pitocin to ramp up the contractions a bit. I believe the pitocin level goes up to around twenty-four. I was receiving a four. Why is this important? I was going for a VBAC (vaginal birth after c-section). Pitocin increases the intensity of a contraction, and a greater intensity of contractions leads to a greater risk of uterine rupture after a c-section. The pitocin was in, my contractions were more frequent and more intense, but I was still totally fine without any pain medication.

About an hour after the introduction of pitocin, it was time to break my water. The weight of what was actually happening set in, and for the first time, I felt nervous. I knew that Magnolia was safe and warm, and that her environment was controlled in her unruptured home inside of me. When the doctor broke my water, and I felt all of that warmth and safety leave me, I cried. And even in reflecting on that moment now, I still find myself overcome with emotion. Something inside, even though I was getting to deliver, for the most part, the way I wanted to, said "this isn't the way it's supposed to be."

In addition to breaking my water, an internal monitor was placed inside to keep track of the intensity of the contractions. It's a standard thing when a woman is attempting a VBAC. But that's when the pain began. My body started treating it like an invader, and my uterus started cramping severely in an attempt to get rid of it. There was also no water left to soften the blow of each contraction. It wasn't long before I was requesting an epidural.

I had to take my mind somewhere else to stay still for the epidural while enduring the level of pain I was in. If I would have known the pain would intensify so quickly, I would have definitely gone for preemptive relief. The anesthesiologist ended up giving me four times the regular dose of medication before things started to calm down. It took the edge off for about thirty minutes, then wore off, and I was back to feeling everything.

The medication from the epidural had made my blood pressure really low. There was a lot of repositioning and moving monitors to bring my blood pressure up and to keep Magnolia's from dropping with each contraction.

All the while I'd been progressing. I was a seven, then I was a nine. My doctor was on her way somewhere, the contractions were so intense, and every little part of me was saying "Push! Push! You know how to do this. Push and meet your baby." But I "couldn't" push yet, not without my doctor. With every wave of pain and instinct to take control deliver, I could handle it until the very peak, and I couldn't do anything but scream to get some get some sort of relief. Over and over again until finally...my doctor arrived, and I was able to start helping my body do what it was trying to, what it knew how to do. They stopped the pitocin just as I started to push. I didn't know it was still going, or I would have asked that it be stopped. I'm sure it was responsible for the ongoing intensity of the pain.

Twenty minutes of pushing. Twenty minutes of give and take. Twenty minutes and it came down to two pushes. She was coming out slowly at first. It was fine. She was crowning. I reached down and felt the top of her head. I pushed once. The doctor and the nurse gasped. Her head came out. There was a raised portion of right in the middle of it. I don't know how to describe that moment. I thought the gasps were because of the raised spot on her head. My initial thought was that I'd broken her with that push. It was such an overwhelming sensation of love, not only in seeing her, but in an instant resolve that I would make sure this little body that I'd broken would be cared for and "fixed." I pushed again, they both gasped again, and before the gasp was over, Magnolia was in Doctor Hampton's arms. What I quickly found out was that the gasps weren't because my baby was broken, but I was breaking. Magnolia came out so quickly right at the end, that I started tearing. 4:08 in the morning on the very day Magnolia was full term, and I was the mother of two daughters.

In a matter of seconds, she was on my chest. No need to describe a mother's love here. But it is instant and overwhelming. I was caught up in her tiny hands, her little six pound one ounce body, her dark hair. I did it. I had accomplished the impossible. The terrifying, the desire of my heart for her delivery: I had actively birthed my baby. This act, I'm sure, allows most women to realize the amazing strength she has. I pushed that baby out, and that experience is something that no one can ever take away from me. It is an experience that I will feel blessed to have the opportunity to try again, if more children are meant for our family. It was an act of divinity, a tender mercy in my life. And it is all made sweeter for the beautiful girl I have as a result.

_________________________________________________________

Afterthoughts: If I had it to do over again, I would definitely do a few things differently. First, I would do everything possible to avoid pitocin. It adds a very unnatural component to labor: namely, the intensity of contractions which leads to greater pain, messes with blood pressure and baby's heartbeat. I know it's a routine thing, but it compounded all of the hard parts of having a baby for me. Hopefully taking pitocin out of the equation would also take away the epidural, which is weird for me to say because while a needle was definitely poked into my back, it might as well not have been.

I don't want to labor lying down. I want to be up and around. It's hard because of the whole VBAC thing. I want to be as safe as possible, but I only want completely necessary interventions. With Magnolia, I was glad that I was being monitored the way I was, really, but it took away from what my body wanted to do instinctively, and I trust my body way more than anything else.

Lastly, I don't want to deliver lying down. Seriously. They had me down pretty flat for a while because of the whole blood pressure thing from the whole epidural thing. Then when it came time to push, I was still at pretty horizontal angle. Dr. Hampton told the nurses twice to raise me up, but then I think actually having a baby became more important than what position I was in to do so. I kept looking over at a birthing chair/stool, wondering if I could hit the pause button and move over there. I would rather deliver standing up than the angle I was at. That was in retrospect. All of this was. But in the end, it comes down to being an "active" active participant in delivering.

Meet Dot.

2011-05-20T20:26:00.007-05:00

On this, the 20th day of May in the year 2011, after 7.5-ish years of marriage, 2 children, 3 degrees, 5 dwellings, and countless hours spent on realtor.com, Jake and I are homeowners.

This is Dot.

She was born Dorothy in 1921 (the second most popular name in the United States that year), went by Dottie most of her life, but as she's grown older, she's come to love Dot.

And we've come to love her.

She caught the eye of one of our friends, Glenda, who knew that we were looking in a certain school district. It was her first day on the market. We went to see her the next day. I knew she was supposed to be ours. We made an offer the third day after she'd already had several showings. Today at closing, the other agent said that tears were shed by other potential buyers over Dot after she was taken off the market. I understand. We've been there, too, but for good reason. I couldn't have imagined that a home with all our requirements would be waiting. A colorful bungalow in a great school with all the charm in the world, a front porch, and on a corner lot to boot. She's not perfect, well, she is, but she's also 90. She needs some touching up.

I'm certain I will post many a before and after picture. But for now, a first...

What did I first love about her?

Her fire place with built-ins. Followed closely by her windows.

Bodily Functions

2011-05-15T21:18:00.002-05:00

I think flatulence is funny. No secret there.

Tonight while Cora was in the bath, she let out a pretty substantial bubbly toot. And then...

She sniffed the air around her. And sniffed and sniffed and sniffed one more time.

What do you say to something like that? I just laughed.

And then there's Magnolia. Whenever she lets loose, I always say something like "Wow, you've got toots!" I was holding her today when she ripped a big one. I said my usual gassy banter, she smiled and strained a bit [a lot], made a little grunt, and the tiniest squeaker of a toot came out. Her face lit up and she giggled. She was very proud of her accomplishment. I gave her a high five. She just learned how to do that [high fives] this weekend.

The Most Difficult Decision of My Life...

2011-05-11T20:32:00.000-05:00

Update: 1/26/2012 - Many have stumbled across this entry, and I just wanted to show you what our final paint decision was. We chose Halo by Benjamin Moore. Click here for pictures.

[That might be an over statement, but it might not be...]

Paint. Who knew that when buying a home, the hardest part would be deciding what color should adorn the walls? I didn't. I thought it would be easy. I thought I knew my style [I do know that, I'm just afraid of commitment].

Last night I dreamt in color swatches. I saw hundreds of those color cards flashing through my head all night long. In order to remedy that, and to stop the madness of trying to decide, via computer screen, what colors I liked best, I made a list, and luckily, they were all Benjamin Moore colors, so I drove less than a mile to the nearest store with Benjamin Moore paints, and gathered color cards. And I came home with four samples. They are drying on white poster board that will be hanging throughout my house and staring at all day tomorrow (I know this house isn't the one I'm going to be painting, but I feel like I'll know).

So, after nearly 7 1/2 years of renting, all those years of imagining the extraordinarily vibrant colors I'd rather be staring at...I've had to come to terms with the fact that it's just not me. And I don't know why that was hard. You see, my mother-in-law has one of the cutest houses on the planet. That is not an exaggeration. It is full of color and tons of cute finds, all of which have a story either real or made up. There's always something new [that's really old and has a new life because of her], something interesting. With all of that, do you know what my very favorite room in her whole house is? It's not the living room with it's sunny yellow walls and red couch and green hutch. No, not that one. It isn't even the office with the fabulous turquoise desk...

No...

It's the guest bathroom. You should see it's gloriously white walls, and antiqued ivory cabinets with the sweet pops of color in the form of blue-ish-y turquoise-y vases and pots. I love that room. I love it so much. And with the recent addition of the black frame (with a picture of Cora in the sink), you could bury me in the bathtub [with lavendar bubbles] because I am in design heaven.

That's it. I admit it. I'm a black and white and greige with pops of color kind of girl. Greige - You know, is it grey? Is it beige? Who knows? So that's what my walls will be: Greige - with a little more grey than beige, please. And that's what I have spent hours pouring over. Slight variations of pretty much the same color.

There are four finalists (all Benjamin Moore):

The pictures don't tell the whole story, but they would all be paired with bright white trim. And we have a lot of it. 1921 Bungalow = Fabulous trim. My pops of color will be Blue-sy Turquoise-ish and Red. With some yellow in a few places as well, but greige, oh greige...how I love you.

Firsts

2011-05-06T19:30:00.004-05:00

1. Downtown Edmond Arts Festival
My favorite is always the Paseo Arts Festival, but I thought it was crazy we'd never been to Edmond's downtown festival. Today we went. One of my favorite paintings was $75. It was a rather large canvas, and I loved it, but I didn't get it. I don't know why. It was a wind farm. Have I ever mentioned how much I love wind farms? I do. And I love paintings of them, no matter how overdone. Anyway, the painting was by a UCO student, hence the totally affordable price.

2. Cora rides on a Ferris Wheel
At the afore mentioned festival, there were kiddie rides, one of which was a Ferris wheel. Cora was brave and went all by herself - in the blue car, as per her request.

3. Buying a house
We're in the process of purchasing a home that is 90 years old. It's a sweet little bungalow that won my heart. Our offer has been accepted. We survived the inspection, and we're waiting to hear back from the seller about the repairs we're asking him to make. My cousin asked me about pictures. I just can't post any yet, not until I hear back about the repairs. I'm too cautious [superstitious] for that. It's a small yellow craftsman style bungalow on a corner lot in a historic neighborhood. Let your imaginations run wild.

4. West
I don't know why we weren't knocking down the door at West [a restaurant at 67th and Western) when it first opened. I actually don't know when it first opened, but holy smokes! We are hooked. We went there because we read about the vegan nachos. We were pleasantly surprised at all of the things that could easily be made vegan on their menu. I mean, I've only been there once, but there is love between me and West. We had vegan nachos, sweet potato fries, gazpacho, and "A Simple Plate of Seasonal Veggies," which is actually one of their entrees. It was a lot of food. A lot of REALLY GOOD food. We cleaned our plates. And bowl. I could eat the nachos every day of my life. Maybe twice a day because I'm feeling some now, but I wouldn't do that.

5. Keep it Local OK
When we were leaving West, I saw a sign for the Keep it Local OK card. I looked it up when I got home, and it seems great. It's $10 and you get nice discounts at a lot of local restaurants around town.

5. Throwing Class
When I opened my birthday card from Meemaw and Peepaw, I found some money. The inscription in the card said that I couldn't use it for anything child, home, or food related. It had to be for me. Well, I've always wanted to take a wheel throwing course, so I signed up for one. I told my mother-in-law it felt luxurious. I mean, it's not the double stroller I was going to put my birthday money toward. It's actually a series of six classes through the House of Clay and taught by Marvin Embree. I took ceramics in high school and really loved it, but we never did any wheel work, so I'd always been curious. I love the feel of clay in my hands. My first class was last night. I'm very much a beginner, but I'm hopeful for the potential that lies inside of me. I think I lucked out with someone who will be a great teacher. The home we're buying has an extra room behind the garage. I'm thinking a wheel could find it a friendly space someday.

In the Coming Days {and some previous ones as well]

2011-04-12T21:26:00.006-05:00

I've been out and about more than usual. Well, by the end of this week that will be the case.

I suppose I feel like I've been doing more (even though I've been doing a lot less of what I normally do) because I've been obsessing over slam/spoken word poetry. I went to a workshop at OCU led by Sarah Kay. I discovered her the night before the workshop, and I loved being able to go, even if I felt a little [lot] rusty. She played several videos of other spoken word poets, and as it turns out, one of them [Andrea Gibson] will be at OCU on Thursday. I am excited. I wrote about two poems in my head in the shower today. It's just unfortunate that I don't have something to instantly turn my thoughts into a hard copy I won't forget.

Wednesday is a reading by Carolyn Forche
Thursday is Andrea Gibson (and a little Safari for Cora)
Saturday is OCU's Creative Writing Festival.

I love being attached to a university. But in reality, any one can be. Universities and public libraries too often fly under the radar for their serious radness and ability to contribute to a community, if only the community would take full advantage of free and open to the public.

The video I posted for Sarah Kay is long, but I love her poem at the beginning (and the end). One line reminds me of Magnolia, and I'm sure it helps that the poem starts "if I should have a daughter..." She says "Remember you're the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more." Jake and I often comment on how big Nolia's eyes are and how tiny her hands. She goes on to say "don't you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining. Your voice is small but don't ever stop singing. And when they finally hand you heartache, when they slip war and hatred under your door and offer you hand outs on street corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them they really ought to meet your mother."

We left for Walmart to get some groceries at 4:45 PM this afternoon. Late, I know. We'd been playing outside, and I didn't want to cut it short because I started it late as well. [I have been so off kilter this week.] Just as we were about to leave the store, Cora said she wanted spaghetti for dinner. I played it old school style and bought the jar of sauce [except that true OS is a can]. I came home, threw together the spaghetti with the whole jar of sauce rather than "just enough," made a quick salad and some green beans. We rarely have sides. Vegan main dishes tend to be a pretty complete source of everything, but tonight called for something special. Cora had three helpings of spaghetti. THREE HUGE HELPINGS! I couldn't believe it as I watched her go. My parents made either tacos or spaghetti for dinner just about every other night of the week. They were smart. It's cheap, it's easy, it's yummy, and there's something oh so comforting about it.

Honesty

2011-04-09T00:01:00.003-05:00

This is how I feel/have felt, and I'm glad I came across someone who could put most of it together in a single interview. I'm posting it more for me, so I can look back on it whenever I need to.

Crafts to cross off my list

2011-04-04T12:26:00.003-05:00

"I Spy" bags
Cute Onesies
Cloth Baby Rings
Burp Cloths
Leg Warmers
Felt Flowers
Swaddle Softies
Pillow Case Dresses
Cloth Shoes
For Future Reference: Cool Weather to Warm Weather clothes

Because Debbie Casually Mentioned it

2011-04-03T21:15:00.005-05:00

On Friday, someone asked why I hadn't been posting. It's simple, really. I've been overwhelmed. Two things have been contributing to this feeling:

1. Nargis
2. We've been house hunting

1. After I last posted about Nargis, so many kind hearts offered advice or asked what they could do. I was touched by it. At the same time, she relies really heavily on me still. After she came home from the hospital, I was literally spending hours each day trying to fulfill requests she had made. Looking for a doctor for Adibah, trying to figure out medicaid, searching for work, etc. Yesterday as we were getting ready to head to the museum, she called needing a ride to the grocery store because she was almost out of food and her cousin didn't have time to take her to the store. We spent 15 minutes on the phone for me to tell her we wouldn't be home until after 6. She was at work, so we had to pause for customers, and for language barriers. It's a lot. When I found out she had family here, who also came from Bangladesh, I couldn't quite understand why she was asking me so much when they'd been through the same process and most likely have access to a wider range of knowledge of what her family needs. The biggest thing they still need: work with better pay. I've contacted the community action agency, but haven't heard anything back. I'm not in the job market, and have no idea where else to look in walking distance for people with very limited English. I wish I wasn't overwhelmed by this, but I felt a huge weight the day she brought sick Adibah over to my house asking for help with her insurance application, and I ended up on the phone with medicaid for an hour and a half. Cora spilled straight pins, Magnolia was tired, and Adibah kept trying to scratch Magnolia's eyes out (and Cora's a few times too). Henry B. Eyring said that when he feels tired, overwhelmed, like he needs a break, he gives himself this rallying cry, "Remember Him." He is speaking of Christ, and how he set a wonderful example of service. I'm working on not feeling run down [over].

2. We've been looking for a house, and it's forced us to really take inventory of our ideals. The easy thing, with the exception of having to buy a second car, would be to move to the suburbs. Good schools, nice neighborhood, easy. But....

we just

can't

do it.

We're urbanites. It's true. We know that about ourselves. But we're picky. We like a quiet retreat. And good schools. The two highest ranking schools are both in our area: Wilson and Horace Mann. Wilson is pretty much impossible to get into unless you live in the boundaries. It's an Arts Integration school in a great neighborhood that is so beyond out price range. We could move to a condo downtown and still be in the boundaries, but no. We looked at a house [and actually made an offer] in Horace Mann, but the owner thinks his house is worth a lot more than we think it is, and we're not willing to be irrational just because he is. We've looked at other homes outside our target area, our realtors have been great about sticking to Horace Mann's boundaries, but we don't like the neighborhoods as much as those we really want to be in. You see, there is a strip Oklahoma City that runs between 23rd and 50th and I-235 and Western that has our hearts. It's where we lived before we moved to Chicago, and I know we would regret not living there. We live in a fine neighborhood now, and our house is really cute, with the exception of the backyard with leaves little to be desired [as in I don't mind the weeds because it offers some ground cover, and the smell of the dog poo that the wind brings over from our caddy corner backyard neighbor is...gross.] With all that, it's just not the area of the city that we love the most. The elementary school that covers most of our favorite spot is not great. Not great at all. And education is a really big deal to us. So are culture and diversity and bike-ability and parks, and big old trees, bungalows, neighbors who sit on front porches, local business, vegan cuisine, and a lot more. We've been looking at private schools, but let's face it: our budget is limited. We're looking at two houses on the same street about a block and a half a part. One is really cute but small. The other is in the process of a total renovation. It's the perfect size, will basically be brand new with its cute original exterior, but the little block it's on still has a few rough looking houses, whereas the other one has a block of sweetly redone, loved on homes. Here's the part where we face our ideals: Are we really brave enough to be pioneers? Can we live on the block where some of the houses aren't taken care of as well if it gives us access to everything we love with enough room to grow if need be? (There are plenty of cute houses, but there's still work to do.) Do we have enough faith that we will get a transfer to a better elementary school or have enough money to cover private school tuition? Will our girls appreciate what we're trying to provide for them by living in this location? I mean, Saturday bike rides downtown to the MOA for drop-in art and a vegan pizza at the Wedge or all afternoon at Edgemere playing in the creek. In so many ways it's perfect, but is it okay that parts of it aren't? As I'm writing this, "Be still" keeps going through my mind.

"Be still, BrieAnn. Be still...
...and know that I am God."

PS: So I don't forget - I'll probably write about some of these things soon: Today's service at St. Luke's; the parts of Mormonism I find to be so awesomely radical.

Yesterday's Pioneers

2011-03-31T13:36:00.007-05:00

I posted about the Deco Delights of Oklahoma City several months ago. I made reference to the homes that were tucked away in various historic neighborhoods. Today, as I was out and about, I looked at a few of these gems, and decided I'd keep a little record. I got the pictures as well as statistics from the Oklahoma County Assessor site. These are the only ones I know of so far. One is for sale even (2240 NW 27th)! They were built between 1935-1937. Eight homes in three neighborhoods with very traditional houses. The first five are on the same street in Cleveland. The sixth is in Shepherd (Cleveland's next-door neighbor). The last two are in Crown Heights.

The collection of houses in Cleveland reminds me of what is currently going on in the SoSA (or Cottage District) neighborhood just to the west of downtown and South of Saint Anthony hospital. The difference is that the homes pictured below went up with the neighborhoods. The new modern homes in SoSA are redefining a neighborhood, but an architect's playground nonetheless. I'm so happy that pioneers exist at every stage of the game. There's always a way to be new again. New Urbanism: I love what this means.

2533 NW 24th - 1937 - 1,232 sf
2529 NW 24th - 1937 - 1,295 sf
2525 NW 24th - 1937 - 1,071 sf
2521 NW 24th - 1936 - 1,508 sf
2501 NW 24th - 1937 - 1,071 sf
2240 NW 27th - 1936 - 2,202 sf
801 NW 40th - 1935 - 2,904 sf
537 NW 41st - 1935 - 1914 sf

Update: After seeing this post, a friend told me about another house in Gatewood that belongs on this list. I don't understand the tile roof all the way...but this one is the biggest.
1301 NW 20th - 1940 - 3,307 sf

Nargis

2011-03-16T23:01:00.003-05:00

I don't know where to start.

I met Nargis a few days after a blizzard passed through Oklahoma. There were still several inches of snow on the ground, and she was trudging through it with her daughter in her arms on the first night I'd ventured out after necessities like milk and bread. I pulled into my driveway just before she crossed it, hopped out and offered her a ride as I only had Magnolia with me. She kindly declined. I was unaware of her limited English. I think I was scaring her. She didn't know that was my driveway. I just popped out of my car and started showing her my extra car seat, and motioning toward my house saying I lived there.

A few days later, she was crossing my driveway again when I was leaving. This time we talked a little while, the best we could, and I told her she could stop by any time and we could practice her English. She took me up on it. She and Adibah (her 18-month-old daughter) were pretty regular visitors at my house. She recently got a job at the little convenient store down the road so the stops have been less frequent. She was supposed to stop by on Monday at 2:00 PM. She didn't come by, so I just assumed she had an extra shift.

Salim, her husband, came to our house at 8:30 this evening. He was timidly holding out a note that Nargis had written:

Dear Breana,
How are you? I am not well. Now I am addmitted in to madical center for two days. I lose you phone number. Can you help me?

Your
Nargis

My honest to goodness first thought after I finished reading it, was "not bad for two months of English immersion." Really, my first thought came in the middle of reading it. My heart sank. Even more so when Jake called to make sure she was at OU. They said she was in oncology.

We drove Salim to the hospital. Cora was with Vaughn and Tracey, so we had room. We got there, and her doctor just happened to come check on her a few minutes after we got there so he was able to explain what was going on. Luckily, it was not cancer. Phew. My heart started rising up from my toes. She'd been in the hospital because of abdominal pain, and today they realized it was a horribly placed uterine polyp. She had surgery this evening, and is recovering well now. She should be released Thursday or Friday.

That leads me to a whole new chapter: They moved into an apartment on Saturday. They have nothing. Not a thing. I was talking about this at church on Sunday, and already someone has offered a bed. I'm hoping we can get it to her apartment before she comes home so she'll have a comfortable place to recover. I found out tonight that they don't have electricity yet either because they don't have the connection fee. I asked how much they make, and this is where I got a little upset. Salim makes 600/month for 15 hour days. That's right, I said 600/month. And Nargis gets 400/month for 7-8 hour days. They are putting in some serious hours. One of my friends gave me a list of free English classes they could take, but they're all during their work, or they get out when the buses have stopped running. Nargis has asked me to help her find work. I'm not sure where to start on that avenue either, but I know there has to be something that will allow them to bring home more for the hours they put in.

I suppose this post is a plea going forth into the universe on behalf of this little family trying to make their way in America. They're trying their hardest to make it work, but they need help right now, especially on the job front. I don't want Nargis to feel like she has bad luck anymore. If you know of any way they can improve their English or get better jobs or anything that we don't even think about that makes our world go round, can you share?

I know that Nargis and I crossed paths for a reason, and I'm thankful for it. It's teaching me about burdens, about coming out of myself to be available to someone (I'm a serious recluse when it comes to being a guardian of my time and home space - I've never liked it when people need me too much, and I've never liked that about myself.) Jake and I were looking at houses today (and have been for a few days), and it's hard to justify our impatience that the perfect house isn't out there in the short amount of time we've been looking when all around us are these stories that we are unaware of. In a few short minutes, I'm going to go crash in my ridiculously comfy pillow top bed, with my pillow, and my sheets, and blankets - and that's just a small part of the things I take for granted.

This is a sweet family, and I look forward to the day when Nargis and I can sit down and have conversations uninterrupted by language barriers.

Languishing

2011-03-05T21:45:00.002-06:00

The. Last. Ten. Pounds.

It's official. I weigh what I did after I lost some of the pregnancy weight from Cora. I lost 16 pounds pretty soon after I had her. And then I stayed around the same weight FOREVER! And then I got pregnant with Magnolia, and gained the same amount of weight I did with Cora but from a higher starting point. The good news is that I didn't hang onto an extra-extra 10 pounds after Magnolia, but I'm back to the dreaded last bit to lose. I mean, 5 would even be cool. I just want to break out of this particular bracket. I'm over it. The other good news is that I don't feel stuck in it yet.

I'm super sore after a toning class on Friday. I went to the gym on Wednesday for the first time in a while. Between the weather and runny noses, we've been enjoying the coziness of home. Anyway, all of my muscles hurt with the exception of my forearms, and below my knees. My quads are the worst. It must have been all those lunges. I have my eye on a particular swim suit. I will power through those 75 push ups and those other things I can't remember the name of. I was voted "best legs" my junior year in high school, and I want them back. All told, I'm down about 20 pounds (give or take a few - I never settle on an exact weight amount because I fluctuate a few every day) since October.

Cora is getting smarter every day. She's grasping all different emotions. Today she talked about mad and angry. I love it when she casts a new understanding on a past event. She told me she was angry [at a past event] that someone had taken her toy and wouldn't give it back. She also talks about memories that are really dear to me. She recently relayed walking down our street in Chicago on our way to dinner at Matt and Lisa's apartment. It was rainy out, so we had our umbrellas. She talked about it for quite a while. She's also been mentioning that she'd like to go to Bechago (bee-chah-go, aka Chicago) quite often.

Magnolia started saying Mama. We were driving to Holdenville and she'd started crying because she was getting hungry. In the midst of her tears came out a long, slow MA....MA! I cried a little too. And tonight she said Papa, and I was very proud of her. She talks all the time. I've been thinking about her birth a lot. I still haven't written it down. It's so tender to me. Like I can't explain it yet. After she was born, I felt so awful, so I didn't write about it, and then the memory was just so sweet to savor and roll around in my mind. I had a VBAC (vagnial birth after c-section) with her, and as much as I hate being pregnant, part of my wants to be able to give birth again, with as little intervention as possible. Pushing that little baby out was one of my proudest moments. I'm sure that since I've been thinking about it so often, the actual words on a page will come soon enough.

I started most of out garden in a seed tray, and I'm happy to report we have sprouts. The broccoli, Brussels sprouts, carrots and marigolds have broken through. I like playing gardener. I even picked up some gardening clogs. I did, indeed.

Today

2011-03-05T20:40:00.005-06:00

Today was a great day [it would be even greater if we weren't on attempt number five in putting Magnolia to bed - but a minor detail].

It was Jake's first day off in I-can't-remember-when. We were going to make the most of it. We had two things on our list. 1. The Oklahoma City Museum of Art. 2. Lowe's for some wood for our square foot garden.

We got to the art museum, and the woman asked if we had Bank of America cards. We did. As it turns out BofA sponsors

[just came back from attempt number 6, I think this one might stick]

Hmm. Oh yes, BofA sponsors free admission for its cardholders on the first full weekend of every month. It was also Devon day at the museum. Food, face painting, drop-in art, Spaghetti Eddie.

Free.
Free.
Free.
oh, and FREEEEEEEEEEEEE!

I'm a cheap-o. Seriously. This could be the highlight of my tight-wad year. There were blackberries. And they were really sweet. I ate a lot of them, and I didn't feel bad because I left all of the seriously decadent brownies for everyone else.

Being creative about how to get Cora into the paintings was fun. Her genuine interest was delightful. Her two art projects were a self-portrait and a lion out of modeling clay. She really has a knack for art. She's always been really interested in it. It's only been a few weeks since her birthday, so I decided a fun little tradition would be to have her make some sort of self-portrait every year. I know I will love seeing how she has evolved in her own eyes, as well as in her own talent. Magnolia loved the Chihuly glass, especially the ceiling.

Jake and Magnolia were walking around for a bit while Cora was finishing her lion, and they wandered into the gift shop. I told Jake about a bumper sticker I saw one day that I really liked, and he mentioned he saw it there. It was a magical summation of our lives in visual form. We came home with it. Watch out Staci [our car], you're about to get fancy. I joked that one day I might be the lady who drives the Volvo with all of the bumper stickers on the back, though the Volvo has probably evolved into the Prius as far as a perfect bumper sticker canvas. Just in-case you forgot.

They also sell t-shirts. My birthday is in a little over two months. Is this a hint? It might be.

After all of the museum fun (I won't go into the actual art here - there were a lot of things I enjoyed, namely the George Nelson Exhibition), we drove to Shawnee to meet Vaughn, Tracey, Parker and Josh for dinner at Chili's. Yes, there are vegan options at Chili's, and we ordered all of them to make a meal.

Jake is busy with some work this evening. Perfection would be if we were cozy watching a movie together, or better yet, at the play I was going to go see before Magnolia started having a rough evening. But this day was so close to perfect, it might as well have been.

Numero Tres

2011-02-24T20:57:00.004-06:00

Cora and I were sharing a snack of almonds. It was around 4:30 which is around the time I start getting dinner ready. I left her on the couch with the rest of our snack. Magnolia was rolling around on the rug playing with her toys. I'd been in the kitchen for less than a minute when coughing erupted from the living room. It was Cora. She was holding her water. It's not an uncommon thing for her to choke on water. I continued on looking at the recipe and gathering ingredients. She continued coughing, and then the sneezes came.

"Cora, did you put something up your nose?"

"What'd you did say, Mama?"

"Did you put an almond up your nose?"

"Yes."

I looked. One nostril is full of almond pieces. And lots of snot and eye water are dripping down her face. I ran for the tweezers. They were my go-to for the rubber bands she liked to inhale. There wasn't enough room to get on either side of the pieces. I sent Jake a text. He called me and came home from work. He drove the car today because of the rain, so I was glad he was at a point where he could pick up and leave.

After a few failed attempts, and a worked up child, we headed for the ER. We were lucky enough to be in a room that OCU's art students had painted for a competition. It was fitting. After the inspection, the doctor was on her way to get a team and some tools for almond removal. She came back a few minutes later with another doctor and told us she'd forgotten about a certain trick that works almost all the time in dislodging foreign objects in the nasal cavity.

One of us would plug her good nostril, and the other one would cover her whole mouth with their mouth and blow. The air would force the blockage out. Jake was the plugger, and I ended up with snot on my face. After several tries, an interruption from the lady who gets all of the information, and a semi-traumatized three-year-old, we got it. Though it didn't pop right out. The pieces separated enough to come down her nose to the point where we could grab one at a time. I was impressed she got them both up there.

(On a penny.)

(You can't get a good height perception from the picture, but the almonds are as tall as six pennies.)

After an orange popcicle and discharge papers, we went to the Wedge in Deep Deuce for a vegan pizza. We're now home, both girls are in bed, our minds are armed with a fabulous dislodging technique, and I'm sitting next to two exciting almond halves.

PS: This is the third time Cora has been to the ER. Once when she was thirteen months old for possible straight pin, the second was on Christmas day just before her second birthday when we thought her foot might be broken, and now today. Maybe Magnolia will be adventurous in different ways...

Conversations with Cora

2011-02-24T11:00:00.002-06:00

Me: Cora, I want to be a writer. I want to write books and share ideas that make people think.

Cora: I want to write cards for people to be happier and hearts and their name and send mail to them. I want to be a writer, too.

Well Child Checks

2011-02-22T16:04:00.003-06:00

Cora and Magnolia both went to the doctor today. I don't know what it is about seeing their heights/weights/head circumferences on a growth chart that's comforting. I love that little set of curves that tracks how they've grown over time. They're doing really well. I'm thankful everyday that they are in overall good health.

Cora's Three-year stats:
Height: 38.6 inches - 80th percentile
Weight: 34 pounds - 80th percentile

She's growing in perfect proportions. It didn't used to be that way. It looked more like Magnolia's, except she was longer so there was a bigger discrepancy between her height and weight.

Magnolia's Eight-month stats (it was really her 6-month check, but we did it late because her doctor was on maternity leave after having twin boys - the percentiles go by her age):
Height: 26 inches - 25th percentile
Weight: 15 pounds - 6th percentile
Head Circumference: 17 inches - 35th percentile

Her growth chart has very even curves. She has always been right around the 6th percentile for weight, and the 25th for height. That's just where she likes to be. And I like her there, though I'm pretty sure she's about to go through a growth spurt. She has some seriously cute thigh rolls.

PS: A percentile on a growth chart is where a child falls in relation to children their own age. So Magnolia is in the 6th percentile for weight - she weighs the same or more than 6% of children her age, and less than 94%. Cora is in the 80th percentile for weight - she weighs the same or more than 80% of children her age, and less than 20%. More important than where a child falls on the growth chart at any particular time, is how a child has grown over time. So 6% looks like a small number, but that number has been a consistent part of Magnolia's growth chart. If she went from a higher number, like say 20% and then fell to 6%, we would start looking at what caused the drop. I imagine it works the same for large spikes in a growth chart as well.

This is just to say...

2011-02-20T22:47:00.003-06:00

My normally simple life has been busier than usual this past week. Cora turned 3. THREE I tell you on Tuesday. She had a cute little party with her two best friends, Avery and Rachel. I need to upload the pictures still. There are some cute ones, and a fun video of all three girls spinning in Cora's egg chair. Jake has had the computer all the time for work and school as his work computer had a whack-attack. When I do get a moment, I realize the camera cord is in our room where Magnolia is sleeping. Anyway, look forward to it.

Cora also went to gymnastics with Rachel on Friday. I was oohing and awing over her. It's fun to see what she does when she isn't at my side. I've always been impressed.

Jake and I spoke in church today, so I've spent a few days getting that together. A few days when I've known about it for over a month. I am a procrastinator. Really. I always have been. It's part of my "method," and I've learned not to be ashamed. I think it went well. Any time I've spoken in church, I've had a reignited fire to write more.

This evening I spent a while reading aloud from Anne Sexton's The Awful Rowing Towards God. I love her. I do. I do. I do. It was fun to have my own little reading. Jake suggested I read poetry out loud every day, perhaps as a way of breaking my "dry spell" in writing. I think it's a good idea. Here is one of my favorites from the book (one of my favorites ever to be exact).

Small Wire

My faith

is a great weight

hung on a small wire,

as doth the spider

hang her baby on a thin web,

as doth the vine,

twiggy and wooden,

hold up grapes

like eyeballs,

as many angels

dance on the head of a pin.

God does not need

too much wire to keep Him there,

just a thin vein,

with blood pushing back and forth in it,

and some love.

As it has been said:

Love and a cough

cannot be concealed.

Even a small cough.

Even a small love.

So if you have only a thin wire,

God does not mind.

He will enter your hands

as easily as ten cents used to

bring forth a Coke.

PS: The weather has been beautiful. We've been outside a lot in the last week. I like it that way.

On Veganism

2011-02-09T21:22:00.000-06:00

I wrote this post over a week ago. Well, the list portion of it. The rest of it was emotionally driven. It didn't seem to match me. It was spurned on by someone commenting on our decision to become vegan, and basically saying that not everything we read on-line is true, and most sources, especially PETA have an agenda and use a lot of sensationalism. Apparently my love of (and quest for) facts hasn't quite infiltrated everyone I know. I've been actively studying nutrition for the last four years (and have been casually learning more about food and how it affects the body for most of my adult life). I created this list as a way of showing some of the books we've read and movies we've watched. And no, PETA had no influence on our decision (I think I've been to their site maybe three times in my whole life), you know, just for the record.

World Peace Diet - Will Tuttle
In Defense of Food - Michael Pollan
May All Be Fed - John Robbins
Get Healthy, Go Vegan - Dr. Neal Barnard
Whitewash: the Disturbing Truth About Cow's Milk and your Health - Joseph Keon
Spontaneous Healing - Dr. Andrew Weil
Healthy Aging - Dr. Andrew Weil
The Complete Idiot's Guide to Vegan Eating for Kids - Dr. Andrew Villamagna and Dana Villamagna, MSJ
The Word of Wisdom - Verses 13 and 15 had never really stood out to me until recently. I love that they are included. Or maybe I love that they basically say the same thing, and that thing is included twice.
Food Matters
Food, Inc.
King Corn
The Future of Food
No Impact Man
FLOW: For Love of Water
Super Size Me
The Beautiful Truth
Simply Raw: Reversing Diabetes in 30 Days - I've loved all of the movies I listed, some more than others (the Beautiful Truth has some ridiculously cheesy narration, though I admire the boy's quest), but this one struck an especially personal chord. Like many people, diabetes is quite rampant in my family, and to see the drastic effects changing one's diet can have on this disease astounded me.

(From one of my favorite farmer's markets. It's part of Davis Ranch in Sloughhouse, CA)

It Takes a Village - Help Tyson and Tracy Adopt!

2011-02-02T10:24:00.003-06:00

Tyson and Tracy are my cousin and his wife. They have been married for over nine years. After a long patch of being unable to get pregnant, they started trying to adopt three years ago. They've encountered a plethora of obstacles, but just a short time ago were given some news they'd been waiting to hear: A young woman had selected them as the family to raise her baby. She is due in six weeks, which is why Tyson and Tracy came to their family and friends for help. They won't have all of the funds required to make this a reality by the time this baby boy arrives. We're trying to get as many people as possible to help in whatever way they can. I know they will appreciate any form or generosity.
Click here for direct access to the facebook page they created.

Finally, I want to leave you with their story, which is also available to read on their facebook page. I'll keep you updated on their story as it continues to unfold.

"I'm not very good at sharing personal experiences or letting the whole world know what’s going on, or asking for help for that matter, but I am about to do all of these things.

I don't know how many of you know our story but here is the short version: Tyson and I have been married over 9 years now, with no luck or even sign of a child, and have been trying to adopt for over 3 years with one problem after the other from the very beginning, even with our paper work nothing has gone the way it is supposed to. Our Social Worker even told someone that we have probably had the worst experience ever!

We had actually gotten to the point where we decided it would either work out or it wouldn’t; we were tired of fighting everything along the way.

Last Thursday, we received a call from our Social worker telling us a young woman had picked our profile and wanted to meet with us. I was in disbelief at what was happening as I listened to the things he was telling me. I can explain the anxiety and nervousness that was building up just waiting to hear when we were going to meet.

Well, it was Monday. I was very nervous. Tyson wasn't nervous until we actually walked in the room and met this young woman. Then it finally became real to him.

It is a very interesting experience to meet with someone you are hoping will like you, and decide that you are the family she wants to give her baby to. It's even worse when you leave still not knowing what she has decided, and you hope from her reactions that it was all positive.

This is the reason we have waited to let all of you know this situation -- because we were unsure of it going anywhere.

We have received a few emails from this young woman and feel like this could really happen. I would love to wait and make sure, but it is never a sure thing with adoption. She has 72 hours after the baby is born to change her mind.

The other catch we have, and I always kind of felt would happen, is the time frame. The baby is due in about 6 weeks, which means we could be expecting the arrival in the next 4 to 8. You know how indecisive those babies are on when they want to come out. :)

Putting this on facebook is my letting the whole world know my personal experiences, and now I ask for help. Adoption is not cheap, and although we have been trying to save when possible, we definitely don't have enough at this time to get this baby in a few weeks, so we are asking for all of your help.

Whether it is a fundraising idea, a donation, just your help in putting on a fundraiser, we are all ears.

We put a paypal button on our facebook page if you would like to donate that way. Please let everyone know. I know they say it takes a village to raise a baby, well this time it is going to take a village to get the baby. :) We love you all and are very grateful for your support in this.

By the way, the baby is a BOY! I figured you all might like to know that little bit of information, too.

As time goes on, the more I know, the more you will know. I will post our experiences as we go along."

When I wake up, there will be snow.

2011-01-31T22:49:00.004-06:00

Today was a day of preparation. The great Snowpocalypse is bearing down on Oklahoma City as I type. Magnolia got the day rolling at 4:47. Her gums are getting ready for her second tooth to come through. She needed me, all day. And I don't mind too much, but 4:47 was really, really early.

During Magnolia's afternoon nap, Cora and I did the most logical thing I could think of: we made leg warmers. When browsing around for a tutorial, I came across the blog of a mother of two. After looking at her tutorial, I spent an extra minute looking around her blog when I came across her most recent post. She's fighting cancer. I watched a video of her husband shave her head after she lost her first big clump of hair. It's amazing what you learn when you're in search of something simple. I like her feisty, positive approach. I think you will too.

And then, not long after oohing and ahhing at how cute Magnolia looked in her leggings, I saw an invitation from my cousin, Tyson, asking me to like his and his wife's adoption page. They have been trying to adopt a child for the last three years, and there is finally a feeling of hope for them, but they're going to need help. I'm going to devote a whole post to them before this week is over, and I know that some of you would love to help them in any way you can - because that's the kind of people you are.

For now, I'm listening to the sleet hit the windows. I've never been in a blizzard before. Something about the thought of snow falling and falling makes me feel like I'm suffocating. Like it could bury our house and we wouldn't be able to see out and nobody could get in. You know, because all twelve inches, give or take a few, will make that a possibility. I really do love snow, a lot actually, but again, I've never been in a snowy situation that caused more than a few inches to fall. Even in Chicago, I think seven was the most that fell at one time while we were there. Our faucets are dripping, our cabinet doors are open. Bring it.

My mom's birthday is tomorrow (2/1). I hope her day is fantastic. She's 22 years, 3 months and 2 days older than I am...any guesses? ;)

Happiness

2011-01-28T22:29:00.006-06:00

(Imagine me there, not on the bench, up in the tree with a notebook and a pen.)

After Christmas, my mother-in-law told me about a book she was going to read called the Happiness Project. The title instantly grabbed me. It sounded noble, at least, and very familiar. When I was at the library yesterday, I picked up a copy. I knew I should make time for it when I read a sentence on page three:

"I had a brief vision of myself living for a month on a picturesque, windswept island, where each day I would gather seashells, read Aristotle, and write in an elegant parchment journal. Nope, I admitted, that's not going to happen. I need to find a way to do it here and now."

My good friend, Angie Jeppsen, once told me that she'd decided that life was happening right now, and she wasn't going to wish it away waiting for her husband to be done with school (that's a big thing when waiting to be out of school, that somehow "real life" will magically appear). I love her for all of her little insights like that. That one stuck with me. After moving to Chicago and back to Oklahoma without a deep sense of satisfaction, I kept telling myself that life is happening now. It's not what's going to be after this and that are accomplished, this is it. Every day, every breath I take. This is my life, and I don't feel like I'm making the most of it. The author, Gretchen Rubin talked about having much to be happy about, but "I still suffered bouts of melancholy, insecurity, listlessness, and free-floating guilt."

This woman has been inside my head - I would think that if I didn't have the faintest idea of how interconnected we all are. She's inside my head just as I am inside yours and you are inside mine. When we moved over the summer, I dove into books. It's the only thing I knew to do. I started with Sue Monk Kidd's Dance of the Dissident Daughter. I have taken my sweet time with it, staying at a part until I feel I'm ready to move on. I can't really put into words what I've been going through in the last few months. It's been a combination of dreaming, grieving, loving, hating, hoping, all things in the last quote from the paragraph above, always thinking, trying to recapture what I've lost or let go of myself, and so many more things.

I think it's crazy, really, the things we give up along the way for whatever reason, most often times contrived because we think we're making it easier on someone else, that we're being who they want or need. It's so sad when you take a survey of what was lost and what was gained. The losses mount quickly, though often unnoticed. "Don't live your life based on other peoples' expectations for you."

I've read books on writing because I feel like that's something that's missing. It's part of who I am. It's what I did at the kitchen table as a child - writing the visions of birds taking flight. But I also have to make peace with certain things: I am a mother of small children, and it is so difficult/impossible to have enough free time to sit and think, uninterrupted, or to be awake when I know I need to be asleep. I need to become a better manager of my time. Let me be clear, motherhood is not a detractor from who I am, it is my life, and the saddest thing would be to wish for this sweet time with my girls to hurry because I feel like I can't recapture something. That's one of the pearls I've added to my strand in these last few months, that I am becoming such a better version of myself because of my girls.

I'm trying to bring it all together. Page four states is perfectly:

"It was time to expect more of myself. Yet as I thought about happiness, I kept running up against paradoxes. I wanted to change myself but accept myself. I wanted to take myself less seriously - and also more seriously. I wanted to use my time well, but I also wanted to wander, to play, to read at whim. I wanted to think about myself so I could forget myself. I was always on the edge of agitation; I wanted to let go of envy and anxiety about the future, yet keep my energy and ambition."

I know that my own happiness is wrapped up in a continual exploration of my spirituality. I have a desire to know the Divine, the divinity within myself. I am a woman full of passion, love for life and learning, full of love, period. I want to make these truths about me come to the surface. I don't want to be timid about being myself. This journey has been so valuable, and I'm nowhere near the end.

I'm going to make it a point to look at the moon each night, again. That's important.

Hemoglobin is a funny word

2011-01-26T21:28:00.005-06:00

Jake has been sick. On Saturday, it came on all of the sudden. I'd already mentioned how frightening his symptoms were, and how they made me wonder if this was the beginning of the end. He is being treated for a gastric ulcer. It has been bleeding quite a bit, so last night we went in to have him checked for anemia. The normal hemoglobin level in a male is 14, his was 9.2, but they don't start transfusing until 7. He's taken quite a hit from blood loss. The first plan of attack consists of him taking 80mg of Prilosec every day to see if the ulcer will start to heal itself and stop bleeding. If the bleeding doesn't stop in 3-4 days, he's going to be treated with a series of antibiotics to treat the bacteria H. Pylori (a major cause of ulcers).

We're not really sure how long he's had it, but he lost 15 pounds basically out of nowhere in the last months of last year. He also has had an ache in his abdomen about two inches below his sternum. It's an on/off kind of ache. It started happening after we were sick with that horrible stomach bug on Christmas Eve. It's just so weird that something can be going on in your body without being aware of it. Especially to have the severity of his symptoms come on all at once.

In other news: I didn't get dressed today. I remember thinking, before I had kids, that I would always get ready for the day. Nope, I don't. I've been working in Cora's room for the last few days. My first order of business was to get her butterflies back on the ceiling. She asked about them every time she saw them. I had to cut the strings they hang from this time because she's so tall, and I didn't want her reaching up and yanking them down. I hung the curtains from our living room in Chicago yesterday. I know they've been washed, but they smelled just like our apartment. Today, I made room for a clothes rack for her dress-ups that will be getting here on Saturday (Did you already guess that Vaughn made it?). When we moved in, Tracey gave Cora these cute little flower hooks that I haven't ever hung up because I'd been waiting for just the right spot. I'm into stations/centers, you know, just like in kindergarten and first grade. She has her book nook with a bookshelf and chair. She has her art station with her easel, and now she'll have her dress-up spot with clothes and flower hooks to hang accessories from. I like her room. It's eclectic. I can tell I'm the one decorating it right now. I can't wait to see what sort of flair she'll add to it as she gets older. My room was always all about collections. The focal point was the top of my dresser with my treasures - including an angel clock, a small silver jewelery box that I kept all the teeth I lost in, and four balance mobiles. Those were so rad.

PS: I got on to post something last night, but got seriously sidetracked by my stats. There was a website listed as a referring URL that I didn't recognize with some very unflattering words, I clicked on. Major porn site. Major. I clicked out, but then I was like, WAIT?!? Why is my blog linked to a porn site? I clicked on the link again hurried down through looking for anything that links to my blog - nothing. Then I did some research, and I don't know how it works, but blogger URL's can be spammed by sites looking for more hits. I fell into the trap. I clicked on the link to their site, giving them a hit (twice actually - ugh). So, if ever you're looking at your stats, and you see an unfamiliar URL that you can basically bet everything you own on being a site with less than desirable content, don't go there. If you're really concerned and doing the super "I'M GOING PRIVATE RIGHT NOW" freak out, give it a few days and see if you get anymore hits from that site. You probably will not, and you won't have to endure the myriad of images I wish I had not seen. I do, however, have even more resolve to teach my girls how to grow into self-respecting women who know the real value of their bodies, and if e'er I have a son, to teach him just the same. I couldn't help but think, in retrospect, those faces and "parts" were all someone's baby, and how sad that thought made me.

PSS: That could have been a record long PS.

2011-01-24T20:22:00.003-06:00

I love how baby arms, when fully extended upwards, only reach a little bit over their heads.

When Cora hears someone laugh she always says "What are you being funny for?"

In fact, Cora is in the Why-stage, but never just says "why." A mock example:

Cora: Why'd the chicken cross the road for?
Me: To get to the other side.
Cora: Why'd the chicken get to the other side for?
Me: To go see her friends.
Cora: Why'd she go see her friends for?
Me: She went to play with her friends.
Cora: Why'd she go play with her friends for?
Me: Because she likes them.
Cora: Why she like her friends for?

And on and on and on. I think it's pretty fun most of the time. When she doesn't understand what you just said, she says "What'd you did said?" Jake and I, and most people who have heard her ask, have a lot of fun with it.

Magnolia loves to sing. Loves it, and it's so fun to listen to her. She also has had a tooth for two days now. When it first came in, she would run her tongue across it over and over again. We laugh at her little antics all the time. Cora is already her best friend. They're interacting so much more now. One of my favorite things is when Magnolia is waking up from her nap. Cora runs in, climbs up into her crib, and they just hang out with one another. I like to take a book in a read it to them while they're there so cozy together.

I am in-love with these girls. They never fail to make my life full, even in the moments I fail to acknowledge that.

Just Some Things

2011-01-22T22:44:00.007-06:00

I went to Dr. Smokewood's memorial yesterday. It was a warm service with a few surprises, like the fact that she liked Blue Grass music. I'm also a huge fan, and just as some would not peg me as such, neither would I pick her out of a group to be the same. I can't pick a favorite thing about the service, but part of Walt Whitman's Song of Myself from Leaves of Grass stuck with me because it perfectly states what I feel about how my body should be laid to rest. I'll save it for the end so you'll keep reading.

Aunt Hannah died on Monday, Dr. Smokewood on Tuesday (if you can't be born on 1/11/11, you might as well be able to die on it, right?), and Uncle Leo on Wednesday. It naturally makes one ponder what the hereafter holds. Most of the time, I am quite certain that God is there, that my prayers are not thoughts/words vanishing somewhere in the space of my own being. But there are times when I question. I'm a mix of logic and abstraction, of faith and doubt. While difficult at times, it's one of my favorite qualities [I'm like that with everything, not just God...that's why everything is "a bit complicated".]

It was said that in the last few weeks of her life, Dr. Smokewood told her family and friends that she was seeing light. I still haven't wrapped my mind around how beautiful that is. Perhaps only through God, one with a disease as terrible as ALS can continue finding ways to make life fuller, to know that there's still so much to learn, to figure out how to take advantage of time in a way that most fail to do. I want to live that way without knowing that my time on earth is coming to a close sooner rather than later. Why is it so difficult? There were also some amazing words about teaching. All of them true, but most touching to me is how we should always be 100% genuine, never distanced by the feeling we must maintain a professional self and a personal self when teaching.

Jake became ill this afternoon. His symptoms were frightening. I stayed very even-keeled through calling friends and family, making arrangements for the care of our girls if I ended up taking him to the emergency room. He was given a blessing by two elders in our congregation. We were also able to speak with another member of our congregation who is an emergency doctor at OU. I felt much better afterward, but in winding down, I found myself getting emotional. All of my plans have him in it, and tonight was the first time I caught a glimpse of what it could be to start down a path without him. I had a shrill few, broken up moments of wondering if this was the beginning of the end. He seems to be doing much better now, which is why I'm taking this moment to let my mind relax.

Onto Walt Whitman:

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

When I die [you knew this was coming, right?], I don't want to be embalmed, but if I must be, that's all. No glued eyes or lips or stuffed anything. I don't want a casket. I want to be dressed in my temple clothes, wrapped in a soft, old quilt, and placed directly in the ground. I want to go become part of the earth as quickly as possible. I want my body be part of the grass, the flower that grows on that spot, the tree whose root might one day extent to my little resting place. Walt did a good job, didn't he? Reading my mind from his time and place. I want to be under your boot-soles.

"In lieu of flowers," plant a little garden when the right season comes, or a tree, or send the money to someone/some organization that needs it. Buy a notepad and Go outside a while, look up and count the clouds. Can you draw a picture of the backyard of the house you grew up in, can you remember how it smelled? and then draw and write about it. I'm sure my idea of the perfect service will change, but for now, you should sing Amazing Grace and My Shepherd will Supply my Need [and whatever else you want]. Isn't a service more for everyone who's left anyway? To share their grief and fond memories...happily commiserate. I'm sure I'll add to my list as I find things I want to add to my "lasting legacy," but for now, the most important part is really the no casket/gluing thing. No worries though, I'm going to be at least 100, and hopefully I'll go out on my birthday. It seems nice and complete that way. And don't you just love this song? You will if you haven't heard it yet. It's Lay My Burden Down by Caroline Herring [she's good. You should listen to more of her music, too. You can find the lyrics here.]

(the bit about clouds and the backyard is from Words by Ryan Adams)

The Saddest Happy Story

2011-01-19T13:48:00.006-06:00

We saw Uncle Leo and Aunt Hannah in September while Grammy was in Oklahoma. Hannah had Alzheimer's, and Grammy wanted to make sure she got to see her sister. When we were saying our "hellos," Grammy misstepped, and Leo caught her. His skin was so thin, it tore open. Luckily, Sarah, their fifteen-year-old granddaughter (and also their chauffeur that day) had her purse stocked with pink Hello Kitty bandaids. As Sarah was helping Leo with his open wound, Leo motioned his head toward Hannah and said to Grammy "We're going to go together." He didn't ever want to leave her alone.
A week after our visit, Uncle Leo had to put Aunt Hannah in a nursing home. His physical health was deteriorating, and even after changing the locks to make sure she couldn't leave, Hannah would get out and wander through the streets of Bartlesville. They'd been in the process of building a home in Skaitook to be closer to their children, but that still wouldn't take away the harm Hannah could unknowingly inflict upon herself. Leo was devastated. He was able to visit her every day, and he did just that.
Just before Thanksgiving, Leo was walking through the parking lot after a lunch date with Hannah when a car backed into him. He had broken ribs and you can imagine what happened to his skin with the force of a car backing into him and knocking him down. They couldn't do skin grafts because there wasn't any skin healthy enough to graft, and there was no way they could attach grafted skin to the skin he already had. I couldn't imagine the quality of life he would have, and I knew how much he wanted to be there to make sure his wife was taken care of, but there was a big part of me that didn't want this man to live in an even more restricted body.
When I heard that he'd been hit by a car, I thought about the hat I always remember him wearing, how it proudly declared that he was a veteran of both WWII and the Korean War. Had it stayed on his head when he fell to the ground? How far away did the hand-held oxygen tank he depended on land? Did his suspenders stay fastened? And why is this what happened to this man? 85-year-old men should not get hit by cars, especially in the parking lot of the facility where their wives are. I was so angry that it happened.
After a time in the hospital, Leo was transferred to the same room in the nursing home as Hannah. She passed away in her sleep on January 10, 2011 with Leo in the bed next to hers. And then, after two days a part, Leo passed away on January 12. The last few months of his life were so sad, and I'm sure he spent the last few years worried about how the end would come, and not just for him or her, but how the dynamics would be when one was left without the other. The way they were able to "go together" is one of the most evident tender mercies I've witnessed in my life. My anger has turned into gratitude, that despite the events leading up to their deaths, Leo was granted his last wish.

(Grammy and Hannah Summer 2008)

(Hannah loving on Cora Summer 2010)

"For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me."

A link to their obituaries: Hannah Louise Bradshaw, Leo Mosier Bradshaw