Languishing

Stories I Tell My Students I: Driving Stick

2012-01-10T21:53:00.001-06:00

Languishing is bringing you a new series, inspired by colleges putting their courses online for free, from my college classroom to your computer/smartphone/iPad: "Stories I Tell My Students." I have several personal stories that I bring out to teach certain points, and as I was leaving campus today, I thought, "Hey, I should blog those." They're not really my courses, per se, but I do tell these to my students at various times throughout my teaching. I hope you like them.

Years ago, just before I started grad school, my boyfriend and I needed a different car. I found a used Mazda pick-up in Alexandria that looked promising, at a dealership, so one Saturday while he was working I drove over in our only car to do a little test-drive. I had a sizable deposit and I knew the Consumer Reports thoughts on this truck. I was kind of excited.

I walked into the dealership (a very large one, with probably 300 cars on their lots) with the newspaper in hand, and showed the ad to some guy in a dark green sports coat. "Sure," he said, "That's a nice little truck. I'll bring it up front for us." He grabbed keys and was back in less than 2 minutes. "It's got a flashy spare set of extra rims," he said. "We could put those on for you, if you like."

He seemed to be assuming that I'd just take the truck NOW, and that bothered me just a bit. "I'd like to look under the hood first," I said. I'm not really a mechanic but I read somewhere once that checking for things that obviously look wrong under the hood is a good thing to do before buying a car.
"Well it's just the engine and stuff under there, honey," he said. He really said that. I don't know what he thought I thought was under there, but he clearly didn't think I would know what to do with an engine. I was starting to dislike this man.

"I know. Pop the hood, please," I said, sweetly. I looked around, checked for rust, signs of damage. I poked at the oil stick, ran my hand over something that wasn't too hot, and nodded.

"It's very clean," he said, and it was. Even my novice eyes noticed that. Not that he had any way to know I was a novice, except that I was obviously female.

"Can we take it out?" I asked. I didn't have much experience test driving cars at this time, and I didn't really want to spend any more time with this guy, but I really liked this little truck. It had a topper, and flashy rims.

He smiled and said, "Well, honey, it's a five-speed. Do you know how to drive a stick shift?" He said this slowly, with that smile on his face, as if he were talking to a six year old, or a dog. I was in my mid-twenties, college educated, and had never seen such obvious condescension before. He was lucky I did know how to drive a manual, or I would've probably slapped his face.

I assured him I had known for years how to drive stick, and as he buckled in next to me I could tell he was bracing for a terrible ride.

(I had only actually learned a year earlier, and only on one car, which anyone who drives a stick shift will tell you is not exactly knowing how to drive stick. Every clutch is a little different, every stick a little different, and anytime you go to drive a new stick, you should expect to kill it a few times as you get the feel of the thing. I knew all this as I started to back out, and he kept his hands on the dash. He was still smiling, but I don't think he really meant it.)

Somehow I made it out of that parking lot, onto the highway, and up to 55 mph, all the way into 5th gear, without so much as a soft jerk. The truck drove like a dream, and I was acutely aware that if I screwed up, this guy would feel vindicated, so I was extra careful. Plus the cab had an old-school bench seat and a really good stereo. I turned around after a mile or two, again shifting effortlessly. I swear it was smoother than an automatic, me driving that Mazda. He even eventually let go of the dash.

When we got back to the dealership, I parked and eased the parking brake up. As we stepped out of the truck, he said "Well, I'll be. I've been trying to teach my wife to drive stick for years and she just can't seem to get it." He was honestly incredulous, impressed by this woman driver. I knew I couldn't buy anything from him.

"Maybe," I said, "she just needs a better teacher." Then I tossed him the keys and walked away.

Dawn at Belle Taine

2012-01-08T14:34:00.000-06:00

Sunsets on Lake Belle Taine are well documented (in each of those links, the sunset comes at the end). My brother-in-law, Steve, used to make fun of me for taking photos of the sunset, because it's been done approximately 18 million times since the in-laws have lived there. But I don't care. Every sunset is different, and some are breathtaking and I don't care if it's the same three trees in every photo.

But at the lake this December, with the lovely late December sunrise and early-to-rise children, plus a dog who needs outside time right away every morning, I was able to wander out with my camera to the backyard, and caputure a lovely cold sunrise.

If nothing else, you get to see some different trees.

Be gentle to us, 2012

2012-01-02T14:47:00.004-06:00

Oh, new year, new post. Last year, I revisited my "37 things to do in the next 37 years" birthday list, so I think I'll do that again. Ive been sick for almost three weeks with a cold that will not die, so I'm too tired to think of a new topic. I realize this doesn't bode well for the new year, but I'm hoping I'll perk up by the time classes resume on January 9.

By the end of last year, I'd completed 2 of the 37 things: #10 & #32. This year, I've finished another 3, and made (somewhat questionable) progress on a few others.

9. Let go of all my old shame/guilt for stuff that doesn't matter to anyone but me. Done. Well, kind of, anyway. I imagine this will be a life-long thing, and perhaps it's just that my medication is working really well, but I've been reading the book Self Compassion by Kristen Neff, and it really is clicking with me. Every woman in my family should totally read this book.
15. Have a healthy, well-adjusted dog to take with for #11. (#11 is a Travels With Charley-esque trip). Done. I mean, we're not going on a trip any time soon, but we adopted Seven in June and he's pretty much a rock star. He adores V, tolerates our familial wackiness, and is just a kick-ass addition to our family. I'm not entirely sure he's "well-adjusted," but comparatively, he fits right in.
35. Bake a cake from scratch. Done. It didn't end up even pretty enough to put on the blog, but using recipes from an old issue of Real Simple, I made a fine vanilla cake with vanilla frosting. It's not really that much more work than a box mix, and it tasted divine.

The progressing ones are these:
8. Build a swing set/play house for V. Probably as done as it's gonna get. Okay, I just hung a swing from a tree in the front yard, but she really loves it, and so do the neighbor kids. That kind of success motivates other people, I hear.
12. Take a few sabbaticals. One down, four (?) to go. My first sabbatical was sort of transformative. I feel like I won't actually die from my job any more, and I'm looking forward to going back to class in a way that I haven't in a good ten years. Let's hope it carries me to my next sabbatical...
14. Publish a paper zine again. This is the first official statement, but there will be a paper Languishing in 2012. Stay tuned for more details, and start thinking about stuff you want to contribute. Please. Otherwise it's just me yammering on for twelve pages, and nobody wins when that happens.
26. Write a country music song. Started. This one is a total stretch, but I've got a few lines done, so I'm counting it. I don't want to jinx it, but just you wait. You'll all be impressed. Eventually.

Thank you, gentle readers, for your continued support of Languishing and me and mine. May we all have the healthiest, silliest, gentlest of years in 2012.

Gnometastic

2011-12-28T11:51:00.000-06:00

When my sister moved into her little house, long before she met Brad, and long, long before either of us planned to become mothers, I told her that the little door under the stairs in her new little house was where the gnomes lived. She laughed politely, then went on with her life, painting over the little door.

Soon after, the gnomes started appearing.

Most of them live outside, in the garden. A few live in the mini-van. For awhile, they sent her letters, imploring her to find them girl gnomes they could date/court/play cards with.

I've given her books on how to survive gnome uprisings, histories of gnomes, and so on and so forth. Mostly, I think, she rolls her eyes at me and hopes I'll give up soon, stop defending the gnomes.

I just want her to coexist peacefully with her gnomes. I'd hate for them to start getting mischievious again, showing up in unusual places, rummaging around in places they don't belong...

I'm just saying. Gnomes are serious business.

Adventures in Gift Making

2011-12-25T16:04:00.000-06:00

The 6 year old girl child asked only for Rapunzel-based gifts this year. She received many other things, but she really, really wanted a dress like Rapunzel's. "It doesn't even have to be exact, Mama, so long as it's purple." For you non-Tangled viewers, here's Disney's Rapunzel, in costume:

Such a dress can be purchased, of course, but without special ordering, most stop at size 6x. My 6 year old girl child is in the 90+percentile for both height and weight in her age category, so she has long since outgrown such a thing. Besides, store bought Disney dresses are always made from cheap, crappy satin that runs/deteriorates faster than the child learns to fasten the velcro. So I went to the fabric store and bought 2 yards of lavender knit. "Use a pattern, Jenny!" my mother implored. But why would I listen to her?

Lace from my immense fabric stash, sewn on the hem of the dress. (I actually attached the lace, then flipped it and topstitched it to make the hem. Because sometimes in sewing, lazy=professional looking).

My sewing machine would like to recieve full credit for this project.

For the bodice, I chose a dark purple velour from my stash. I would've made the whole dress out of this if I'd had enough. Rapunzel's sleeves have contrasting ribbon sewn on, so I sewed on contrasting ribbon.

Above, hemming the sleeve (with a gap to insert elastic, which will help the sleeve be appropriately poufy).

Rapunzel's corset caused me a bit of a headache. 6 year olds don't really need sweetheart necklines, and I'm not crazy about a lacing that can get caught on stuff while she plays/swings/runs around like a crazy princess. My research led to lots of good places (that one there has photos of how the store-bought dresses wear out, along with a thorough how-to) and one of them (I can't find it, but this shows the same concept) showed the ribbons as just stitched down. I went with that. No grommets (which are fun, of course), no fuss. Well, some fuss. I made the top based on a Simplicity top I've made her a half dozen times. Then I sewed on the skirt, made from a rectangle sewn into a loop, pinning a lot.

I should take one of it on a hanger, but here she is, all dressed up (with a scarf for Rapunzel's hair) in a dress 3 sizes too big. I'll take it in a few inches at the waist, shortening the skirt and the top, as soon as she lets me take it to the basement for a few minutes.

She's wearing it to Grandma's tonight. It was worth staying up past my bedtime for my dear little Rapunzel. Now I need to make a Flynn Rider and Mother Goethel costume for Shaun and me. Yee-haw.

Holiday Lights

2011-12-24T13:34:00.002-06:00

Once you give up trying to control photographing holiday lights, it becomes a lot more fun and Spirograph-like. The first photo is from some house on 8th Street; the last is street, tail, & stop lights on our way home. The three in the middle come from an annual display in Lindenwood park. We're not sure why Santa is riding on a brontosaurus, but we don't dislike it.

Holiday philosophizing

2011-12-23T19:27:00.002-06:00

After a lovely trip to look at the holiday lights and enjoy some Mexican Village food as a family, V and I found ourselves alone in the TV room with a little "Kung Fu Panda." She had some questions.

V: How did the world begin?
Me: Um, well, some scientist believe in "The Big Bang Theory..."
V: What do humans believe?
Me: Uh, scientists ARE humans.
V: Oh.
Me: ...and some people believe that a God created the whole universe and...
V: Yep, that's what I think. I think he made the whole world.
Me: You think there's a god, and that he's male?
V: Yep.
Me: Oh, crap.

Apparently I've not been doing my job as well as I'd hoped. Sigh. Parenting is harder than it looks.

Edited to add: The point of this post is that despite the fact that we are raising V outside of the church, she soaks it up somewhere anyway. I was raised Lutheran, and Shaun was raised Catholic, and as an anthropologist I am respectful of a wide swath of beliefs. I just hadn't expected my own child to adopt such a mainstream point of view without me teaching it to her. I didn't really say "oh crap" out loud to V, but instead told her she could believe what she liked, and everyone had a right to decide for themselves what they believed. But it's hard when your child believes something you don't. That's all I'm saying.

Fancy but blurry

2011-12-23T10:08:00.000-06:00

We have a bit of a backlit problem in the TV room, hence these photos have all kinds of problems. But V wants to tell you about them.

"Okay, we took pictures and did videos. The videos aren't put up yet, but they soon will be. So, as I was saying, the pictures are exciting because they are me dressed up as Rapunzel. So look at them, please. That's it."

"P.S. Some of them are funny, because they're blurry. And I'm funny. hahahahahaha!"

Rapunzel, Rapunzel...

2011-12-21T18:16:00.000-06:00

V's been growing out her bangs for a bit, now, and usually she gets a side ponytail to keep them out of her eyes. Or sometimes, we just leave it down. But lately the tangles, oh, lord...serious squirrel-nest-like knots across the back of her poor, tender scalp.

So today we went in to Lil Whipper Snippers, where a very patient woman named Monica combed and brushed and detangled, and then cut off a good 4 inches. And then she did a lovely braid, which she called a waterfall braid.

My little post-haircut Rapunzel, weilding a brush like a weapon, because it kind of is. I hope we get a little squirrel-nest-free time out of this.

Now I need to go google "waterfall braid" so I can figure out how to do that.

Vintage Top Nine List

2011-12-14T17:49:00.002-06:00

From the print issue of Languishing, a topical top 9 list. This one is from Issue 5, Volume 4...so around 2000? Somewhere in there. It's not that I don't have new ideas; I just like sharing my old ideas with the internets, hey. V's in public school for the first time, now, and she comes home and says things like "Why doesn't Suzette celebrate Christmas?" And I'm like, "Suzette? Well, she's probably French..." "No, she's brown." Oh, well, okay. Anyway, I don't know why Suzette doesn't celebrate Christmas, or why she's brown and/or French. But I can offer you this.

Top 9 things to Not Say to Your Atheist Friends During the Holidays

9. Does it bother you that you’re going to hell?

8. Jesus is the Reason for the Season.

7. That’s okay; the pickles are kosher.

6. You know, they used to burn people like you.

5. What’s your problem?

4. How many presents do you get with your no-god having ways?

3. Man, your childhood must’ve been awful.

2. Atheist? So, like, do you eat eggs and stuff?

1. Well then, Happy Kwanzaa.

Annual Gift Ideas Post

2011-12-10T14:44:00.001-06:00

Unlike previous years, when I would barf ideas for gifts up on the page, this year I swear I'm going to be clear and organized and intentional. Stop snickering at me. It's unbecoming.

Gift ideas for your bestest friends: You shouldn't even be reading this. They're YOUR bestest friends, people: what could I possibly say to guide you? Oh, okay. i'll try.

Do something different. If you always buy them a new coffee table book, mix it up. Buy them a new coffee table (check thrift stores. V and I found several funky ones just last week), or some Sanka or something. Is Sanka still a real thing?
Buy them a beer sampler (Leinenkugel's has some tasty ones this time of year) and refuse to drink from it. Buy two, if you can't help yourself.
Consider purchasing something you can do together. A pedicure or massage, for example, as opposed to an ob/gyn appointment. Tenessa has, over the years, gifted me things like my 1/2 of the hotel room cost when we go away for a weekend, or paying for us to go away to a meditation retreat. This ends up sort of like a gift card, though, so make sure you follow through and book that trip together.
Something matchy. This doesn't work as well if you work together, or if your bestie has fashion rules beyond what this allows, but if you live in different cities & aren't out in public together constantly, having identical scarves or mittens can be a warm reminder of your affection for one another.

Gift ideas for your neighbors whom you don't wish to piss off but don't really care about all that much:

Cookies or sweetbreads. You can't really go wrong with baked goods, because it seems like a tremendous effort, so even if they hate your cookies, they will still think you like them well enough. Wrap it up pretty and present it in person!
Liquor: Provided your neighbor is at least 21, liquor is often a welcome gift, unless you know they're in recovery or ought to be. A nice bottle of red wine or sparkling wine says "I thought of you. Not a whole bunch, but I did think of you."

Gift ideas for your in-laws or out-laws: Like your best friend, I don't know your in-laws or out-laws. I will make some assumptions, but please forgive me if I'm totally off-base. In-law/out-law relationships can be really varied. For example, you may totally adore your mother-in-law but find your cousin's wife repulsive. In this case, they may better fall into other categories (bestest friends and tolerated neighbors, respectively). You have to help me out here, people.

If you are new to their family, consider a safe but luxurious option. Plush towels, for example, are often a welcome addition (unless your in-laws have OCD about matching things, in which case, good luck with all that). My mother-in-law once received a cashmere sweater (not from me), which raised the bar all to hell, I tell you what. It was a very inspiring gift.
Along those lines, a luxurious throw that matches their couch is a lovely option, especially if their house is cold and you have to wear three pairs of pants at once to get through a family evening without shivering. Sort of a gift for yourself disguised as for them deal.
Food. Especially if your in-laws are hosting holiday get-together time, they will appreciate any addition to their larders. I mean, don't buy them a case of green beans (unless that's how they roll), but something that can be added to the food offerings of the weekend might be especially helpful. Consider summersausage, really great cheese, things that taste amazing on crackers. A nice whiskey or brandy or package of licorice is often a welcome offering to the patriarch, again, if'n he's not in recovery. And don't expect him to share: he might, but he might not, and that's the point of a gift, really.
Paper products: okay, bear with me here. You may not want to give only toilet paper to your in-laws, but if you're going there to visit, bringing over a 4 pack of TP will be a welcomed thing. Think about it: you and your brood is always going to their house on the holidays, always eating their food, always pooping in their bathroom. Who buys that toilet paper? They do. And it does not grow on trees. (well, you know what I mean).

Gift ideas for those people you're expected to buy a gift for but just can't think of anything because you don't really know them that well or whathaveyou:We all have these people in our lives, from the mail carrier who knows about your poodle fetish, to your hairstylist who consistently talks you off the ledge every six weeks, to your child's teacher(s) & therapist(s). If you have a go-to gift in this department, I'd love to hear it, because this one tends to stump me. But here's what I know.

If you're gonna give a gift card, consider the broadest possible options. My sister, who used to teach pre-school, got a lot of use out of West Acres gift cards, which could be used anywhere in the mall. She got a lot less use out of the Starbucks gift cards. Which is not to say she didn't appreciate them: she just doesn't drink coffee, and it seemed like a bit of an effort was necessary to get herself over to a Starbucks not knowing if they'd have anything she'd really like.
At the same time, I'm all for supporting small & local businesses. A Target gift card will certainly get used, but a gift card to Zandbroz will be more memorable.
Another gift-card based option is an online one. Etsy's got great stuff, and a lot of etsy shops offer gift cards. Check out these places I like to drool over: a Minnesota jewelry maker, a North Dakota girl, or this shop, from Oregon, that sells prints of animals in suits. Lots of unique, beautiful gift suggestions just in those three spots. Order soon!
As a teacher myself, once in awhile I do get gifts from students. Sometimes it's from an entire class (a Hello Kitty coffee maker!) or individuals (a giant tin of popcorn, a Coke and a small bag of Doritos; delicious holiday treats, food from an international student's homeland, WonderWoman socks). Because I teach college, I never expect a gift, but they are always very appreciated. In fact, I think I just listed every gift I've ever received from a student, in 12+years of teaching. So they're very rare, too. Which means they're heartfelt. I think.
Because I've mentioned it in the other categories, liquor. It might seem a little awkward to present your preschooler's teacher with a bottle of rum, but seriously, if you spent all your working hours surrounded by toddlers, wouldn't you want a drink?

Gift ideas for your favorite blogger, who has an inordinate fondness for sideshows and murder ballads: Truly, I don't need anything. I'm just honored you thought of me.

I already have this, but I highly recommend it for people who can stomach creepy music and horrific lyrics. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds' Murder Ballads was a gift from my friend Dan, and I can't stop playing it, even though it's the most haunting set of songs I have ever heard.
If you really want to give me a gift, do some of your holiday shopping through my link at the bottom of the page here. Anything you buy at Amazon by clicking through the link on my page gives me a tiny bit of money. Ever since I put the link up four years ago, I've been raking it in: just under $2 total to date. Amazon won't even let me have the money until it gets to $10. So if you plan to shop through Amazon anyway, why not help me reach my goal?

Gifts for your favorite blogger's partner, who has anxiety issues and cardiomyopathy: Um, yeah. I don't know what to get him. You can't really buy Xanax over the counter (yet), and he's the kind of guy who just buys himself what he wants. Don't you hate that? I mostly farm out the basics (socks, underwear) to our family...which leaves me having to think of something exciting. My ideas so far (Shaun, you should totally not read this part):

Fancy salt-free potato chips. These actually exist. I don't pretend to understand them, but he really enjoys having junk food that won't hurt his heart immediately (as opposed to the long-term).
A hilarious picture of V. This is sort of a go-to gift for me to him, because she makes him laugh, and he rarely takes pictures of her. I think he's got 4 frames already on his nightstand. Hm. Maybe I need to think of something else.
A microwave-safe bowl just for him. We have lots of these, but he eats leftovers almost everyday, and some of our bowls get hot. Would this be a good gift? Or the kind of thing he'd lump in with the shop vac I got him for Father's Day that year? It's so hard to know.

When in doubt, ask for a gift list. Or get a book. Just wandering around a bookstore can often offer you all kinds of inspiration: they totally have books for everyone. Or the aforementioned liquor.

I know you can do it, Languishers! Think different, heartfelt, and lovely. Happy shopping.

Cookie makin'

2011-12-09T18:48:00.000-06:00

Shaun's previous cooking experience has been limited, so for his birthday, V and I got him America's Test Kitchen: Let's Get Cooking for his Nintendo DSi to help him expand his talents in the kitchen. The first recipe we tried was a smashing success!

Yum!

And then, out of the blue...

2011-12-08T19:52:00.000-06:00

My last post detailed rich memories of home, but it was surprisingly not hard for me to let the place go, really. Unlike so many people, who have to say goodbye to their childhood home because of a divorce or death, my mom is in relatively good health and chosing to leave, so I'm sure that helps make it seem less like a loss.

My dad died back in 2002 (holycrapIcan'tbeliveit'sbeenalmosttenyears), but even then, he had lived in the nursing home for ten years before he died. Sorting through his stuff was difficult, but not in a home-based way. Our loss was palpable and awful, and when the Salvation Army guy asked me if I wanted a receipt I sorrowfully said "Sure, if you want to put a price on my father's life, go right ahead." (I'm their favorite donor, I bet). But it wasn't entirely unexpected, and we had grieved parts of him since the stroke in 1986.

So I was taken aback when, in cleaning out the last nooks and crannies of Mom's kitchen, I found Dad's keys. I mean, I wasn't surprised they were there. It was the kind of thing we'd set aside after the stroke, in case we needed them again. Nearly 26 years later, here they are: keys to buildings that have long since been torn down, to PO boxes we no longer rent, to paddlocks misplaced or cut off years ago.

Below, the laundromat keys, I think. Certainly those round keys went to the washing machines we had in our basement my whole childhood.

I remember him letting me hold this ring of keys. He showed me the bolt with the tightened nut, which kept his keys lined up the way he wanted (I don't remember what the broken key went to. Maybe the old Pontiac? Probably from before then.). The front one, with the words almost worn off, was for the lumberyard's north door.

He carried these keys in his pockets for over 30 years, and they, along with a few dollars of loose change, made him jingle when he walked. They are worn so smooth, now, they feel almost soft. Polished metal, made so solely by my father. They were a part of him.

I slid to my knees on the kitchen floor and wept, for him and for all of us.

I miss him so.

"I come from a town, the kind of town where you live in a house 'til the house falls down, but if it stands up you stay there."

2011-11-30T19:49:00.005-06:00

My mama has moved. If you go to her house in Hendrum, she can't make you waffles anymore. She's gone south, two blocks south and one block east, to the apartment house across the street from the church which is across the street from the elementary school. She'll probably make you waffles over there, though, if you ask nicely.

I get inordinately attached to places. I always have. But I was surprisingly cool with my mom leaving the house where I grew up. People are more important than things, of course, and moving is a good choice for her. The house is heated with fuel oil, which can cost her up to $400 a month in the dead of winter. That's insane. And she swears it hasn't had a new roof since the late 1970s. The garage needs to be painted again, and the basement gets a little water (or more) every spring. Add in property taxes and home owner's insurance, and it's cheaper for her to rent (I blame Tim Pawlenty, but that's not the point right now).

To top it off, she never chose this house. My dad came home one day when she was 8 months pregnant or so with Jess and said "I bought us a house. It's next door to my mother." And Myra's been there since 1974.

So here we go. Bear with me on a little nostalgia, a little history, and a lot of photos, won't you?

Above, a corner of the bedroom Jess and I shared for most of our childhood (here it's acting as Myra's craft room). The walls were unfinished, but Dewey had the materials to do the finishing, so we and our friends were allowed to draw on the walls (in crayon, marker, whathaveyou). The stroke (and skillful procrastination, earlier) kept the panelling from ever going up, and we just kept writing on the walls.

Below, sorry for the blurry photo, but it's all I got: in high school, a couple of talented friends painted me a zodiac mural. I love it, and slept under it for years. The unfinished pine below the mural was part of built-in storage Dewey had framed up before the stroke.

A copy of the first money I ever made for writing poetry. $10.

A wall in the hallway that became my room, then Jess', when we couldn't stand sharing a room anymore. My dad had a way of using up scraps, and this flowered paneling is evidence.

See how worn the wood is here? All the edges smoothed off. My grandfather built this house & my grandmother's house next door (with his brother? I can't remember who helped him) with wood from the original Hendrum School, torn down in 1925.

This photo doesn't do the stairs justice. Most people find them the steepest steps they've ever climbed, but the stairs at my grandmother's are even worse. Ours are uncovered wood, though, and falling down the stairs takes on a whole new aura of danger when you can get a sliver in your butt.

One of my first household chores was washing these steps, edge to edge. I've been slacking lately, as you can see above...

Above, the hallway on the way upstairs. I love that wallpaper. Actually, I think it might be contact paper. I remember when my mom put it up, when I was very very small.

The stairwell coat-hanging area. My dad built that red shelf. This is the wall he had to cut into when I was six and Bambi, my elderly hamster, got out of her cage and scratched here until my dad woke up and decided he'd have to find her or not sleep until she died.

Above and below: my mom's kitchen. After Dad's stroke, we had to add on a bedroom and make the kitchen wheelchair accessible, but the house was still not really "hers." A few years ago (7? 8? I forget), Jess and I gave her a kitchen makeover with the help of our friend Carla and other sneaky collaborators. We did a mosaic on the backsplashes, painted and all those fancy things.

Below, the only window in what was my parents' small bedroom. After the addition, it became a piano room, and after the piano, it became a guest room. In the mid-90s, Myra decided she wanted a room with floor to ceiling fabric on the walls, and this was the winner. It's hard to tell, but this room is yellow with white lace trim.

The front door, inside the porch. I will always remember the feel of that doorknob. My uncle Harry added the deadbolt after my dad's stroke. Before the stroke, we never locked our doors.

Below, the hallway to the backdoor and the basement. Isn't that gingham wallpaper awesome?

The light to the basement is up above the stairs, and when I was too small to reach it, I would lay on the landing, stick my arm through the spindles, and flip it on from above. I tried this method again when I was seventeen and almost got stuck there permanently. See the ledge above the stairs, to the left in the photo? That was a favorite place to hide puzzle boxes to keep guests from "cheating."

The view from the back entryway. That green carpet used to go all the way through the kitchen.

Our little house on the prairie. We'll miss it, but not too terribly much. It was a pretty good place to grow up, overall.

*I have another post on this subject, but this was getting ridiculously long.

**Quote in the subject line from the song "Mira," from the musical Carnival! It's a great little song.

***If you know someone looking for a little house of their own, 28 miles from Moorhead, we hope to have it on the market by May. It'll need a new roof soon, and the garage needs paint, but I'm pretty sure it's not haunted and I know it was filled with love for many years.

What we do after Halloween

2011-11-14T20:48:00.001-06:00

Because I'm a sucker for a good sale, I really believe everyone in my family ought to celebrate holidays 3-5 days late. (For proof of this long-standing belief of mine, see this post). Halloween, for instance, can be had for a pittance on November 3 or 4th. And if you wait until November 8th, you can get cool stuff at 90% off.

So on Shaun's actually birthday, this past Wednesday, he and I and V put together this cool graveyard, which we got at Target for 99 cents the day before. Above, Shaun's putting a gingerbread tree together. Below, I made a semblance of a skeleton out of frosting (it's harder than it looks on the box, people).

Creative play+candy+both her parents=Happy V.

See how scared he is? He's never worked this much with frosting before.

It took three frosting packets, three gummy spiders, two sugar skulls, four sugar pumpkins, and a bunch of other sugar-based stuff to make this magic happen.

Ah! Spider and bats in our tree!

Our finished cemetery. The stone on the right says "RIP" or some semblance therein. What we've learned, I think, is my life's work will not be in tombstone engraving. At least not in frosting.

It was the best 99 cents we've spent in years. Now if I can just get everyone excited about November 9th all hallow's eve....

Game time!

2011-11-12T18:57:00.000-06:00

Little warms this mama's heart more than coming in from running errands to see this:

Shaun and V, playing the beautiful Little House on the Prairie board game, which Shaun bought for me years ago.

I don't know who won, nor do I care. It's just the goofiest, bestest thing to come home to.

Yum. (a Shaun-free post)

2011-11-09T17:52:00.000-06:00

1/2 cup pineapple juice: $.17

1/2 of a frozen pineapple from a fresh one I bought two weeks ago: $1.42

4 Tablespoons low-fat vanilla yogurt: $.32

3 frozen strawberries: $ .12

big shot of coconut cream: $.35

4 ice cubes: $.01?

Two tall, spooky tumblers, Target Halloween clearance: $1.78

Crazy good spooky smoothies with V: Total: $4.09! (plus we can use the glasses again and again and again.) I would say "priceless," but that's overdone. Then again, stuffing my kid with fruit while making her think it's a huge treat is pretty priceless, I guess. Okay, you talked me into it.

Our smoothie obsession started here, in case you were wondering. My obsession for Target Halloween clearance started a long time before the internet was invented. So there you go.

Birthday Boy

2011-11-09T11:17:00.001-06:00

I swear I'll stop posting about $haun's birthday after this. Seriously. But this picture merits some discussion.

1. Huge bunny. I hear this was from Uncle Bill, and that makes perfect sense for me. What are uncles for, if not large, ridiculous toys that your parents would never purchase for you?
2. Fantastic early-to-mid-'70s disposable tablecloth with creepy, creepy, creepy clowns. I wish they'd saved that for me.
3. How cute is Shaun G a n y o here? V is always a little surprised when she sees pictures of me or Shaun as kids; she can't believe we were ever little. Look at him! Aw....

I'm also finding it amusing to be married to a 40 year old man. Never mind that I'm 38 myself: 40 is old.

Thanks, gentle readers, for letting me indulge in a little Shaun-centric blogging this week. May we all still be here for Shaun's 80th.

Birthday post #2

2011-11-08T12:33:00.001-06:00

The ridiculously fashionable Tenessa, helping set up the food table.

Including the amazing cheeseball she made. That's $haun's head. In cheeseball form. I really would like all my food to be both delicious AND hilarious.

Here's the rockstar corner. The Elvis poster was there when we arrived: we just had to add KISS. And the squares on the right side of the photo make up Shaun's present from me: a t-shirt quilt. It probably deserves its own post, but it was part of our decor.

Some of the songs we sang (if yours isn't listed, or is listed incorrectly, please leave a comment! I loved every single song but got a little drunk on all the love, so I forgot many):

$haun:

Brick: Ben Folds Five

Chantilly Lace: Big Bopper

Cat's in the Cradle: Harry Chapin

Copacabana: Barry Manilow

One More Minute: Weird Al

Time in a Bottle: Jim Croce

America: Neil Diamond

Soul Man: Blues Brothers

Asshole: Dennis Leary

Superstar: Jesus Christ Superstar

Jen:

Any Man of Mine: Shania Twain

You're the One that I Want: Grease (w/Shaun)

Piece of My Heart: Janis Joplin

Uncle Bill:

Cracklin' Rosie: Neil Diamond

Toddio:

Jambalaya: Hank Williams

Don't Stop Me Now: Queen

Melt With You: Modern English

Anna:

The Gambler: Kenny Rogers (w/ Eric)

Eric:

River of Dreams: Billy Joel

Isn't She Lovely: Stevie Wonder

Ed:

Baby Got Back: Sir Mix-a-Lot

Bring Him Home: Les Mis

A Buck Owens song

Alejandro: Lady Gaga

Tenessa:

Louisianna Woman, Mississippi Man: Conway Twitty & Loretta Lynn (w/Dan)

Honestly: Stryper

Act Naturally: Buck Owens

Carla:

That'll Be the Day: Buddy Holly

Total Eclipse of the Heart: Bonnie Tyler

Jess:

Somewhere Over the Rainbow: Israel

Happiest Girl in the Whole USA (w/Jen)

We Didn't Start the Fire: Billy Joel (w/Jen)

Another song I don't remember

Dan:

Work It: Missy Elliot

Hold On: Wilson Phillips (w/Tenessa)

Party party party

2011-11-06T15:15:00.000-06:00

As promised, we had belly rubbing:

Shaun and Brady. Behind Shaun is our life-sized cardboard KISS, a gift several years ago from our friend Johanna. Our decorating theme for the party was "Things Shaun Likes." Shaun's shirt is from Teenwolf. Of course.

Tenessa made a beautiful Shaun-shaped cheese ball. Yum.

Ed surprised us!

The Johnson sisters. Here we're singing Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire."

Our friends the Runestads, singing "The Gambler."

Uncle Bill! He sang "Cracklin' Rosie." I love that song.

Dan & Tenessa sang "Louisiana Woman; Mississippi Man" but applied it to their lives. "Minnesota Woman, North Dakota Man." It was beautiful.

Carla came down off the stage and worked the crowd.

Brad and my Jess. And my purse.

We didn't have a huge turnout, but it ended up perfect: everyone got to sing several times, with basically no wait, and we could visit and still hear each other sing. Plus, karaoke is just more fun when you know and love every person in the room. It was really, really, really the perfect party for us. Thank you so much to everyone who came, even if you didn't sing.

I'll work on posting at least a partial list of songs performed, after Shaun wakes up from his nap. We're not accustomed to partying like rockstars, apparently.

Last night's party portrait: Skol, pop star!

2011-10-30T15:11:00.000-05:00

At the Kjos-Njos Halloween Bash last night, V and I had our portrait taken by Robby, who's, like, a real photographer. (Uncle Shaun has a bad cold, and doesn't feel like dressing up when he's sick, so he stayed home).

As a Viking, I always hoped my daughter would grow up to also be a Viking. Since she aspires to be a popstar, I scowl even more than usual.

I made both of these costumes, completely, with the exception of V's microphone and my helmet, both of which we borrowed from my sister's family. I tell you this not to impress you, but to explain any sloppiness.

(And I know that historically, Vikings didn't really wear horned helmets. But it's the easiest way to identify oneself as a Viking today, so I went with it.)

I'll do a more detailed post on V's costume after tomorrow, when she presents the second version of her pop star self. Stay tuned!

My blog, my choices.

2011-10-28T20:42:00.002-05:00

Yeah, that's right. I changed the background of my blog to look like the background of V's school picture. If you don't like it, get your own blog, and don't do that. But also, I'll probably change it soon enough. Back off, fussybritches.

School Pictures: Kindergarten

2011-10-27T21:40:00.000-05:00

Picture Day! I feel old, because when I was in school it was just us and Larry Harrington and that plain blue background. V's got new fangled photos, with about 40 different background choices. We let her pick which one she wanted, and she picked her outfit, too, so it's certainly...distinctive. But look at how cute she is! I can't hardly stand it! And she's so grown up!

I swear my heart grew three sizes when I saw these. Our own kindergartener.

Hey, nice tubes.

2011-10-25T16:57:00.002-05:00

I know posting's been light lately, but I have a good excuse. I had surgery. Elective, same-day, drug-me-up-then-send-me-home surgery, but still surgery. A tubal ligation, to be specific. It was this past Friday, and I'm recovering well, though I still feel quite a bit like I've been kicked in the belly by a very angry mule. For those of you unfamiliar with fallopian tubes, I provide this illustration, from the 1918 edition of Gray's Anatomy (which you may have to click on to see, because it's not cooperating with me):

We decided, finally, that V would be our only biological child, and Shaun is not a candidate for a vasectomy, due to his cardiomyopathy, among other fascinating reasons. We could've stayed on the pill, or some variation thereof, but as a woman over 35 with a family history of early massive stroke, I'm not exactly the kind of girl that birth control companies are hoping to reach.

So we have our reasons, and made our choices. I felt surprisingly bad, though, because I have a few people close to me who want very much to become pregnant. It seemed wrong, somehow, to undermine our own (potential) fertility when I have friends and family who so want to experience the very thing I'm trying to avoid. I know, it's not like my fallopian tubes have any impact on their pregnancies, but still. I mean, I know I couldn't do surrogacy, so it wasn't that, but it just seemed cosmically...rude, somehow.

Finally, I realized that, like my Peter Falk Lazy Eye theory, perhaps there's only so much fertility in the universe, and by handing in our fertility card, maybe we could free some up for the rest of the world. So that's what we've done. May the baby making begin! In other people's uteri, I mean.

Ye Halloween Costumes of Old

2011-10-19T22:40:00.001-05:00

You know, it's that time of year again: spookier things than usual show up in the neighbor's yard, my niece resumes her candy corn addiction, and our friend Carla plans a giant pumpkin carving party. As this week's public service Languishing article, I'd like to inspire (or disgust) you with costumes from my past. (In the interest of historical accuracy, these are not in chronological order. I know you folks are into details like that). Enjoy!

An awesome inflatable head alien that my cousin Nathan had worn a few years earlier. This is the only costume I remember from when I was a kid. It was mid-October, and I didn’t have a costume yet, so I went over to my aunt Beverly’s house to see if she had any ideas. This goofy, inflatable alien head was my favorite in her costume box. It was made out of the same material as a beach ball, and as such wasn’t all that comfortable, but I loved that I had a head on top of my own head. I saw one kind of like this at the thrift store a few weeks ago, and I felt this tug of nostalgia for a plastic hat.

Saloon Girl: in purple satin with black lace. This was the first major costume I sewed for myself, and I got to use a grommet maker for the corset part. I made the mistake of wearing it to work one year, and discovered it’s just a tad disconcerting to have college freshmen catcalling their English instructor.
Medusa: I put my hair up and stuck little plastic snakes all over. It made me laugh, anyway, and made for one of my favorite blog post titles.
Rosie the Riveter: my favorite of all. I found a denim shirt and a red bandana at the thrift store, and made my own backdrop out of yellow, white, and blue poster board. And put a monkey wrench in my pocket, AND I was happy to see you.

Jesus, Supergirl, & Rosie the Riveter walk into a Halloween party...

Fortuneteller. The go-to easy last-minute costume, from upper elementary until today. A long skirt, a flowy shirt, some shiny earrings, and a Romanian accent, I can offend Gypsies near and far. I've actually been a variation of this costume twice in the last six years. But I wasn’t trying to offend anyone: I was a Fortune Teller. I even studied a little palm reading and tarot. I’m all about authenticity, you know.
A separated conjoined twin: My friend Bayard and I, who looked nothing alike, except that we’re both white and we both had long brown hair, drew scars on each other’s sides, then pulled down our t-shirts and went out. This was a lovely costume, but it took too long to explain it to the bartenders who kept accusing us of not having costumes. Later in the evening, when we got separated into different bars, it just got funnier. At least to me.

Consider yourselves inspired. Now I'm off to figure out what I'm doing this year....

Something rancid this way comes

2011-10-10T22:27:00.000-05:00

V and I went out of town this weekend after a very busy Friday. We left Shaunsie home alone and had our own adventures, and wandered home yesterday evening. Mondays are one of my days to sleep in, so I didn't really venture into the kitchen until late this morning. And there was a smell. I mean, a Smell. Like a peach sat in a hot car for a few days, and then you put it on a plate in a small, closed, damp room. Only worse.

At first I thought I'd been watching too much CSI. I could hear Nick say to Warrick (because in my heart, Warrick isn't dead), "You smell that?" and Warrick raises his handsome eyebrow and knowingly mutters, "Decomp."

So I looked for the body. The three of us were accounted for, thankfully, and Seven was wandering around by my feet. Ah, the fish! Oh, poor fish. Wait, he's not dead. He was just sitting still. I checked the garbage disposal (ick), took out the garbage, opened and closed cupboards and the fridge, trying to figure out 1. what had died here and 2. where it was, exactly. My mind raced: we've never had mice in this house (knock on wood), and I hate mice with a white hot passion. (I may hate mice more than I hate squirrels. No, I only hate mice when they're in houses. I hate squirrels everywhere.) I swept under the stove. No corpse, but I found that old Martha Stewart's Halloween Issue I thought I'd left at Crystal's.

Then I started to get worried. Hallucinations of smells is a sign of a brain tumor, right? I mean if everything starts smelling like pickles, I'm probably gonna die. But this smell was clearly in the kitchen, somewhere between the sink and the trash, and it certainly didn't smell anything like pickles.

Finally, under a cream-colored kitchen towel on the counter above the dishwasher, I found the source. A baggie with just a bit of raw chicken, somehow left behind from Thursday's supper prep, hidden under the towel. Four days on my kitchen counter was plenty of time for terrible things to happen. I was totally relieved, and totally grossed out, and vowed to keep a cleaner kitchen. For now, I've got four scented candles and some incense going on in there, and I'm gonna go eat some pickles.

Tami's Place

2011-10-08T08:09:00.000-05:00

My friend Tami is an artist and a mama, a poet and a hairstylist. She co-owned a salon for many years, and works independently in one now. And she's also in the process of setting up her own salon in her house. When Jess and I and V were in the Cities last weekend, we got to be among her first customers.

I love the black and white floor and the in-progress transformation of a regular basement into a whole new space.

Since it was Jess' birthday, she got the whole color and cut shebang.

Even V got in on it, getting her hair washed in the fancy sink. When Tami washes your hair, it's like a magical massage for your scalp. Really.

Jess looking beautiful.

At one point, I giggled and said "We're totally playing Beauty Shop!" and we all grinned at one another. So much girly happiness in one place!

If you're in or around the Cities and looking for a fabulous stylist, Tami's Place is the place for you. Or at least the place for me.

The First of October

2011-10-03T00:42:00.000-05:00

October 1, 1974, I was fourteen months and one week old. Sixty-one weeks, to put it another way. I didn't know what that meant, exactly, until I had my own sixty-one week old child, and suddenly I came to understand my mama in a whole new way. Because when my mama had a sixty-one week old daughter, she brought home a second, brand spankin' new daughter. And oh sweet holy moses that must've been hard.

For me, though, it meant that I would never remember the world before my sister. I will never run out of vintage photos of us together. By the time I could say full sentences, or even walk without a wobble, she was already here.

For me, it means deciding to raise an only child (and I recognize how fortunate we are, to get to make such a choice, and I don't take that fortune lightly) seemed almost unthinkable for many years, because my childhood is so tightly bound to hers. I nearly mourn the baby sister V will never have, largely because I can't picture my life without mine.

We spent this past weekend in Minneapolis, with our mother and her sisters (and their brother), and we got to spend the entirety of her 37th birthday together.

There is no one I would rather near 40 with (well, sixty-one weeks before) than you, Sissy. Maybe next year we should go to Vegas. Or Sweden. Or at least Hillsboro. Wherever we are, we'll have a good time, so long as we're together.

Doggone it.

2011-09-30T10:35:00.000-05:00

These goofy dogs act like litter mates. They're almost exactly the same age (each just over 1 year) and though they have very different personalities, when they're together they just want to tear each other into bits. Figuratively speaking, I mean.

They're so damn cute.

Mask master

2011-09-29T22:39:00.000-05:00

Just making two masks is never enough, of course, so I made some more. Then I stuck the kids on a swingset and made them model. The designs are my own, but inspired by lots of online images of animal masks, and by Aunt Shirley's suggestions on the original post.

Emmy the owl, above, and Emmy the crooked bird, below.

Will the cat. With a sucker in his mouth. (Yes, the cat is inspired by Peter Criss).

Will as a burgundy owl.

Emmy Frankenstein:

Emmy in action as the cat:

And Will the Triceratops. This was his favorite mask, but it is by far the least ... wearable? Correct? Right? It's just all kittywumpus, but I like it in theory, and the boy likes it in practice.

A fox mask that I'm particularly proud of.

And the girls, finally, in a cardinal mask and a carnival mask. With suckers.

So we're set for Halloween and then some. Now how do we narrow down the choices?

Rejects from the Annual Christmas Card Photo Shoot

2011-09-28T21:09:00.000-05:00

I know that you, like so many Languishing devotees, look forward to our family's holiday card for months every year. And I don't blame you. In fact, here's a little teaser of what might show up if you're a good boy or girl.

Unlike healthy, well-rounded families, we don't actually have an annual Christmas Card Photo Shoot. We just toss the camera to an unsuspecting family member once a year or so and demand they take our picture while Shaun makes faces and rude gestures and the rest of us try to play along.

Above: Shaun in the early stages of making a rude gesture.

This one coulda been a contender, if it weren't for that pesky, adorable niece. She fits right in, though, doesn't she?

Shaun and Rocket have quite an affinity for one another, but this doesn't really include either V or myself. I'm just enough of a traditionalist to say a holiday photo should include at least 50% of any given family.

That's all I can show you for now. Perhaps I've already revealed too much. Maybe this year we'll go to Wal-Mart and choose a special winter wonderland background for all of us. Maybe.

What constitutes a good holiday photo, in your world?

Longtime friends

2011-09-18T11:52:00.000-05:00

In the big city for just under a day this weekend, I got to see some of my dearest friends from college. You know, the kind of friends who were beside you as you figured out who you wanted to be when you grew up; the friends who would help you devour a pint of butterbrickle ice cream because the dorm fridge would be defrosted over break and who wants to waste an entire pint of butterbrickle? Ah. The friends that just make you happy to be near. I don't see them nearly enough.

Jeni

Heather

and Tami Jean. The four of us hadn't all been together since Tami's wedding five years ago. That's just not right.

Jeni's David, above, with their son Christopher and Tami's daughter Holly. Chris adores Holly.

Holly's impossibly tiny fingers. She's already 3 1/2 months old, and this is the first time I'd met her. She's a delicious cuddle of a girl.

And Holly's big sister, Violet.

So, so glad I got to see these folks. I hope it can happen again very, very soon.

Me and my Lazy Eye

2011-09-15T00:30:00.002-05:00

In "Go Carolina," David Sedaris, upon hearing from his speech therapist that his lisp was due to his lazy tongue, describes his reaction.

"My sisters Amy and Gretchen were, at the time, undergoing therapy for their lazy eyes, while my older sister, Lisa, had been born with a lazy leg that had refused to grow at the same rate as its twin. She'd worn a corrective brace for the first two years of her life, and wherever she roamed she left a trail of scratch marks in the soft pine floor. I liked the idea that a part of one's body might be thought of as lazy — not thoughtless or hostile, just unwilling to extend itself for the betterment of the team." (Me Talk Pretty One Day).

In April, then, when I noticed in the mirror that my right eye was a little wonky, I figured it just wasn't playing nicely with the other eye. And then I thought maybe it was because of Peter Falk, known for, among other things, his lack of focused eyes. Since he died this year, I figured the universe needed to balance the number of lazy eyes in the world, so I was selected. (This is how I think, people. If you don't know that by now, you haven't been paying attention). At first I was honored, but then I remembered that Peter Falk's eye wasn't just lazy: it was dead (surgically removed because of childhood cancer). So...um, I don't want a dead eye.

Once I saw it in the mirror (and I looked a lot, because it's really distressing and hard to actually see in a mirror), I noticed I was having difficulty focusing, especially when wearing my glasses, and especially when I was tired. Then I noticed that while driving and wearing my glasses, I had trouble with depth perception (which makes sense, if you think about it: if one eye's looking up Broadway and one is looking across, it's hard to judge how far it is to the crosswalk). I started wearing my contacts more regularly. I thought about getting an eye patch. It made me giggle.

(I look more upset than I really am in this photo: I'm just being silly. It's not a remotely flattering picture, but I don't want you to think I'm just blithering on about nothing. See? I look like Peter Falk. Oh, and it's not usually this bad. Just when I'm tired and not wearing my contacts.)

I went to the optometrist in July, for my yearly check up. I told her I was worried about this wonky eye business, and as she examined me, she kept saying "Huh." Not like "Excuse me, what did you say?" but more like "Huh; that's weird." Now there are many things you don't want professionals to say while they're looking your direction. For example, you hope your dentist doesn't say "Oops" during a root canal; you'd prefer your ob/gyn doesn't say "Sweet holy Moses!" at any point at all....and you don't want your optometrist to say "Huh...." over and over. It turns out that it's really not normal to develop a lazy eye as an adult. It's almost always a childhood affliction, and important to correct right away as the brain is developing. My old brain is fully developed, though, which is why my focus and depth perception get messed up so easily. And why it surprised Dr. Optomitrist.

Anyhoo, Dr. O sent me to an opthalmologist; Dr. Opthalmologist seemed to think my laziness was unimpressive (which, frankly, was a bit disappointing), and I likely just need to do some exercises of some sort, or perhaps some motivational activities to get the right eye back on board as a team player. To learn those, though, I have to go to an eye muscle specialist (whose fancy title I don't recall). The eye muscle specialist is in high demand, and also not local, apparently, because he's only here one day a month. Which means I can't see him until late November. By then, my right eye could have just migrated right out of my head, for all I know. But I guess we'll wait and see (ha! Vision humor!). I'll keep you posted, even if you don't want me to. Peter Falk would want it this way.

More birthday photos

2011-09-12T10:10:00.000-05:00

Below, the hat decorating station (yes, that's a church pew. Yes, in our backyard. Where do you keep your church pew?).

And here are more shots of my friends and their beautiful children. My sister's a fine photographer, isn't she?

With such lovely guests, how could it not be a lovely day?

Birthday Post 2011!

2011-09-11T10:57:00.001-05:00

Despite V's insistence for the last year that she definitely, certainly, surely wanted a Star Wars birthday this year, two weeks ago she switched her vote to Phineas and Ferb. I was not going to allow this, until Shaun pointed out it is not MY birthday. Phineas and Ferb Birthday, here we come.

There was a jumpy thing (Thanks Jenn B!). And a wagon full of presents.

The clothesline, which is practical and beloved in everyday life here, but not very pretty, was transformed into Dr. Doofenschmirtz's Mazinator of Doom with a dozen sheets, strategically placed.

There were platypus bills and Secret Agent hats. Here's Shaun modeling with V's good friend Parker.

We played "Pin the Heart on Candace," because she's always mooning over her beau, and Candace is V's favorite. Here's me, spinning dear Tilda, who's grown up so much from last year.

And here's Dana, with whom I graduated 20 years ago, and who was in Texas last year but this year could bring her beautiful daughters right over the river to see us.

Candace with all her hearts:

The theme song includes the line "Giving a monkey a shower!" so we did. (I drew that monkey! Freehand! Looking at a picture from the show, but still...)

The water balloons were a huge hit, not the least of which because some of them would not break, so the kids got to pick them up and throw them again and again, and even stomp on a couple. They played until the monkey fell down, and the balloons were all popped. Whee!

Emmy got bored, so she went in the house to find something to play with. She was the only one, though, I think, so I call that a success.

WD, post waterballoons.

I bought these plastic fedoras at Loopy's Dollar Store, because they are the exact color of Perry the Platypus himself, and the exact shape of his fedora, and I like the idea of alternate party hats. We put out pipe cleaners and straws and ribbon and stickers and a hole punch and scissors for decorating, and the kids did cool stuff.

Here's Oscar's hat, as decorated for his little sister.

We also played "where's Perry?" with little Perries strategically placed all around the backyard. I think there are still a few in the trees yet. And there was food, of course! Good food that we couldn't take the time to photograph because the wasps swarmed immediately after we brought it out. But we had tacos in a bag (the best. food. invention.ever) and the accompanying cheesey goodness, grapes, olives, and curly cheesey poufs. We also had cupcakes: strawberry and spice, both with pink frostings. (I am forever indebted to my sister for bringing the food back in before the wasps carried us all away).

It was really a lovely party, I think, because afterward I took a desperately needed three hour nap. Most importanly, V said she had fun, and I hope she will remember it fondly. And hopefully next year we can just go to a movie or something.

Six

2011-09-10T14:20:00.001-05:00

The day after the first day of kindergarten, V turned six. Six.

She makes up songs everyday.
Loves cheese pizza.
Wants to be a doctor when she grows up.
Thinks playdough is really awesome.
Has no idea what "September 11th" means.
Is not sure if heaven's a real place but is excited for the tooth fairy to visit her.

I can't remember life before her.

First day of kindergarten

2011-09-06T11:20:00.000-05:00

I know it's not new. I know every mama who sends her first born to kindergarten exclaims how quickly time goes, how soon she'll be all grown up...I've said it myself repeatedly. But still, she only gets one first day of public school. Compare her here to the first day of preschool. She's a giant! Enormous!

V chose the dress herself. When I showed it to my mom, weeks ago (after I nabbed it a thrift store bag sale), Myra shook her head in dismay and said "Kids don't wear long dresses like that anymore, Jenny. Don't make her wear that." So it was with tremendous satisfaction that I helped V button up the back of this dress this morning, at her own insistence. She feels like a fancy princess, fashion trends be damned.

Public school is so different from Montessori, and V's got so many quirks, I can't help but worry. But she was so excited this morning, it was easy to just be excited too. I don't know if we'll ever catch up with her, but we'll have fun trying.

Fun with masks!

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

After browsing around the ever-inspiring Etsy, I decided to head to the craftroom and make my girl some masks.

She seems to like them. Above is V's superhero pose. I think I'll add some fancy sequins or beads around the edges of the purple and cream wool felt.

This owl was inspired by this mask, and this one. And also by the colors of wool felt I had in the craft room.

It works on grown-ups, too. Maybe I'll make some masks to sell before Halloween. Any suggestions?

A story with no discernible moral (and sadly, no photos).

2011-08-30T22:36:00.000-05:00

About three miles before V, Seven, and I arrived at the in-laws lake home today, V cried from the backseat "I spilled! Oh!" I glanced back to see a large puddle (nearly a pool) of chocolate milk, rapidly moving toward our white dog. For some insane reason, I travel without a full sized bath towel in the front seat, so there was nothing I could do. V was upset, though, and not just because she'd lost the last cup (or more) of her chocolate milk. "Aaah!" What now? "He's DRINKING IT!" Good. Maybe he'll soak less of it into his tail that way.

But as we got out of the car, it was clear that a full half of the dog's fur was chocolatey down to the skin. Now, at our house, I probably would've toweled him off and called it good, but, you know, the in-laws might notice a chocolate milk coating on their carpet and sofa, and their two dogs would certainly notice Seven's new hairdo.

What to do? There was no choice: get V to don her swimsuit, and then toss the dog in after her. He promptly ran out, but I caught him, we washed him, and now he's all fluffy, lake-scented dogginess, with just a hint of chocolate. Yum, yum.

Happy end of summer, y'all.

I love a good purse...

2011-08-26T15:51:00.001-05:00

...and a good bargain, so when I found this lovely canvas/suede embroidered bag at Saver's for $7.99, I could not walk away.

It's even prettier in person, I tell you. But it's rather large, and as such my things have a way of floating around into a massive jumble of unfindable geegaws. This chaos is even more than I, the Prime Minister of Chaos, can bear. Hence, a purse organizer was in order.

Purse organizers aboud, ladies and gentlemen, but even for one that's award winning, I'm not willing to spend $16. I know, I'm cheap. And forget award winning: Oprah even supports one (called the purseket, which makes me think of a parakeet, which makes me think of what an unholy mess a small pet bird could make in any purse...anyhoo), which is totally good enough for me, but at over $20, well, I can make my own.

Photographed in our bathroom during V's bathtime (hence the scenic towel backdrop), I present my version. It's made of yellow cotton, nearly denim weight, quadrupled upon itself to make the back and two pockets. I used quilt binding at the ends to keep all the ravel-y parts together, and I measured my wallet (that lovely green thing with the peacock, below), our cell phone, my camera, and a little notebook. Then I sewed corresponding pockets and winged the rest, and wa-la!

My own sunshine-colored purse organizer, made entirely with stash materials, so essentially free. Even if I'd had to buy fabric, it would've been less than $6. That's how I roll, people. Plus it works very well, is sturdy enough to stand on it's own (in the purse) and totally machine wash & dryable. I'll have to take out all my stuff first, of course (said she of having washed a cell phone once so I'm gonna try not to do THAT again fame).

Oprah can call me if she wants to know more. I'll be here, or at a thrift store, or in front of the sewing machine. And my bag will stay cleverly organized, too. Ta-da!

Quilts of our lives, part 7-ish

2011-08-25T10:38:00.001-05:00

This is an exceedingly simple quilt that I really like. I always meant to quilt it more thoroughly, but it's been put into circulation, so I haven't gotten to that. It's roughly a twin-sized quilt, and V uses it on her bed when she's not using the chickens.

The pink, green, yellow, and blue are all the same pattern of a retro-remake kinda thing, and the white is a lovely medium-weight denim. Due to my tendency to sew through my own appendages, I tend to avoid white, but this quilt demanded it, and I think you'll find the blood barely visible.

It's quilted in a simple grid pattern and then along the diagonals (the squares are 16" or better); this is just enough to keep the thing together, but it's clean and I like it.

This quilt has a nice cotton batting, so it's got a good heft to it. A simple, vintage-inspired quilt that I'm actually pretty proud of.

These....are the quilts of our lives. (I amuse myself).

Craftiness and advice seeking (with way too many photos)

2011-08-20T15:38:00.000-05:00

I'm on sabbatical, which is fantastic, though I have a sizable work-related project to complete this semester. Still, I'll have more spare time than I've had since I was four years old. Really. One of the things I want to do with this time is invest energy into things I've always wanted to do more but never had time. I'm reading books (another upcoming post, don't worry), and sewing more, and I've decided to apply for a couple of craft shows this semester. I did a few of these in college, and one a few years ago, but craft shows are different now, in many ways, and I'm really excited to try to partake in this newer wave of craftism.
So, without further ado, I present my wares. I'm looking at possibly a show in October and hoping very much to get accepted for one in November.

Lucky stars: these are little, and plush, with sweet embroidered faces. The four year old down the street declared "These are SO cute!" today, and so I'm hoping the craft show audience will be full of 4 year olds.

Next up, the earrings. Any of you who've known me for any period of time should by now have been presented with at least one pair of your own, and perhaps more. I wrote about how to make them here. The earwires are all sterling silver or gold-filled, and the beads come from all over, from vintage pieces to New York to New Orleans, Oregon to overseas. I hand craft each pair and guarantee them for as long as you own your ears.

I found this cool chicken-wire type cage thing at the thrift store the other day. I think I like it as an earring display: I stuffed it with cream-colored chiffon for a neutral backdrop.

I really like to use natural materials (and lots of colored glass, as you can see). Above, some polished stones with wood balls.

My earrings are fairly simple, and basic in structure, but they are well-made and pretty. One friend of mine (at least) still wears pairs she bought from me in the late 90s.

Finally, some satin flowers. There are lots of tutorials all over the web on how to make these yourself. The one I started with is here, though I use a center button, sewed on, and a bit less hot glue. This one is good, too.

This purple flower is about 6" across, and as such is enormous. . But I'm going to sew/glue it to a soft stretchy headband, and then it will be very fancy.Or maybe I'll make it a pin.Or a necklace pendant. Fancy, anyway.

Those 3 above are all small hairclips and look adorable.

And this one's sewn unto a strong ponytail holder. Cute, eh?

So what I'm asking is: what do you think? Would you stop by and visit my booth, if you were at a craft show? What would get you to go to a craft show, if you don't go usually? What display/pricing/product suggestions do you have? I like the idea of three sections of the table, one for earrings, one for plush, and one for flowers. And these are three things I love to make lately.

Please, I could use advice/moral support. What do you think?

Mushroom Party 2011

2011-08-20T11:53:00.000-05:00

Gentle readers, you know we've had an ongoing obsession with mushrooms here in Languishingland. Given the wet summer we've had, it seems the mushrooms have arrived early.

Lovely stepping mushrooms, growing on the woodpile at the lake.

This mushroom was all by itself, but lovely and creamy white. It was about 5 inches tall and 4 inches in diameter.

The underbelly, or the gills, or whatever that part is called is my favorite.

Especially when the sun shines through it.

Today's last mushroom was tiny tiny tiny (as you can see by the blades of grass). Its stem is only the width of a dandelion stem.

What a perfect little mouse-umbrella. Aren't you excited for mushroom season?

Something fishy (not suitable for mealtimes. Or anytime, really)

2011-08-17T08:54:00.001-05:00

Minnesota, with more coastline than Florida & Hawaii combined, is full of wholesome outdoorsy goodness. We enjoy the weather with outdoor meals, splashing in the clear waters, and fishing for sport and food.

And sometimes Mother Nature sends a little reminder of how things really are. Right into our idyllic vacation.

All three of the kids were fascinated, and Jess and I tried hard to hide our complete disgust. Royal nastiness, this.

We still took the time to photograph it, though, so I could share it with all of you. Aren't you glad I'm always thinking of the blog?

My Little Sister

2011-08-10T23:14:00.001-05:00

She inspires me to be a better mama. Her patience and creativity, her obvious love for her children and for my daughter, never cease to move me.

She's on a new path, now, leaving her preschool teaching job to follow her true calling as a music therapist. Such a huge leap, but I know she can do this.

My brave, smart, patient, loving sister.

Self portrait in silhouette

2011-08-10T09:35:00.000-05:00

An afternoon walk at Lake Minnie Bell. Photos of me don't end up on the blog very often, so I thought I'd take a self-portrait.

Wait, though. I look like a bottle of Mrs. Butterworth's. Maybe I should move my arms to illustrate that they're arms, and not some awkward square-top-of-my-body-things.

Okay, nevermind.

Look and learn, grasshopper.

2011-08-08T18:07:00.002-05:00

To prove that Languishing's not just a pretty face, I've applied the same concepts that are discussed in this post, about flowers, to this cool grashopper I found on the side of a laundry mat. Don't you love it when ideas are transferrable?

Okay, so he's slightly above my head, but I got as close to him as I could. Look at the variety of textures on his legs and wings. And the brick of the building? Fantastic backdrop. Thank you, Herr Grasshopper.

To follow my own advice, I tried different angles. The grasshopper is still above my head (I don't really like to touch grasshoppers. Perhaps it's from when I was little and we'd drive out to the farm and grasshoppers would leap on, over, and into our car from all angles. Perhaps it's because I once got a grasshopper in my mouth while riding on the open-cab tractor. Perhaps it's from the recurring nightmares), so I just stretched out my arms and shot him from above. I do this same thing when I shoot from underneath flowers, often: I'm lazy, so I just point the camera from below, take a bunch of shots, and hope it works out. And this top-down shot was the best of Herr Grasshopper from that angle.

I pulled back a little, because I liked the perspective of the whole wall stretching out to the door of the laundry mat, broken only by this rogue grasshopper. If this were a soap opera, I'd focus in on the laundry mat door to show a disheveled couple leaving the building, trying to look nonchalant, and then I'd zoom back to the grasshopper. Dramatic! Confusing! That's how we roll.

And finally, the from-below shot. I love his red legs. Plus, I know this is why you come to my blog, people: to see fine examples of grasshopper butts.

You're welcome.

Nebulizers are our friend.

2011-08-03T18:33:00.001-05:00

V's cold has settled in her chest, and when that happens, sometimes, her lungs get all pissy, like "Nuh-uh." And then she gets wheezy. Sometimes really really wheezy. So last night we went to the walk-in clinic, because I'd rather spend an evening at the walk-in than end up at the ER at 3am.

Which is where we would've found ourselves, it turns out. Her oxygen was lower than the doctor cared for, so V got two nebulizer treatments there, and they sent us home with one of our very own (rented, for now, anyway). Neb treatments every four hours (including one at five am last night), then every six, along with a steroid, will hopefully kick her lungs into shape.

Seven's a little jealous of the adorable nebulizer, but hopefully in a few days we can send the penguin back from whence he came.

So pardon the light posting: I'm busy playing with plastic penguins and making V stop running around like a 5 year old so she doesn't wear herself out.

Puppy love

2011-07-26T22:20:00.001-05:00

It's a little amazing to me how quickly he just became a part of our family; we were three, and now we're four. He's woven in to V's imaginary stories, he's a part of our morning/afternoon/evening routine, and when we're away, we all miss him. Life is too short to not share it with a dog, for me anyway.

Sweet Seven, we're so glad you're here!

Today's tidbits

2011-07-25T14:55:00.001-05:00

Some random things that have occurred so far today:

1. Marriage therapy: Shaun and I have been seeing a marriage therapist for over a year now. She's awesome, and we're better to each other because we know her. Some days we feel like the worst matched couple in the history of the universe, but most days we work to make it better. She helps us to do that.

2. I got bit by an ant. Between my breasts. Sexy ant bite, eh?

3. We have Will and Emmy today, and again I'm reminded of how much harder it is to have more than one child. V and Will wanted to swim, but Emmy got tired of being splashed and wanted to go inside. With just one of me and three of them, it's all about negotiations. I am humbled by the parents of two or more.

4. Screaming meltdown: V had a psychobilly freakout over a cheap plastic lanyard that Will was playing with, because, she insists, "I was playing with it first!" Perhaps a better parent would try to ascertain who was right or wrong here, but I didn't care who had it first. You have an entire house full of toys, child. Adjust.

5. Ms. Fix-it: I repaired the protective guard on the lawnmower, put a Burger King Transformer back together, rescheduled two appointments, and reassembled a fashion-plate-like toy. All before 3pm. Now if I just figure out how to change the lightbulb in the hall, we'd be good to go.

How's your Monday?

Languishing's Claims to Fame (List #19)

2011-07-24T12:26:00.002-05:00

I try not to be obsessed with numbers of readers for the blog: in the end, the point is to reach the people who wanna know what we’re up to, and anyone else is welcome to read along. But blogger keeps track for me, and so once in a while I check out the numbers. Here’s what I’ve learned from them:

1. Readership is highest overall when there’s something drastic going on. This has been especially true in the last year, and posts about Shaun’s physical or mental health are usually very well read. I imagine the reasons for this are two fold: first, people love excitement, and we’ve certainly had plenty of that, and secondly, my husband is more loved than he realizes. Perhaps I should only blog about him.

2. If I did that, though, I wouldn’t have these other posts that get lots of hits all the time. The most popular post I’ve ever written, by far, with 3 times more hits than any other post, is “Sphinx of black quartz, judge my vow.” It’s just a silly little post about how much I like the alphabet, but apparently people hear that phrase, google it, and wind up here. Not enough experts on the topic of pangrams, clearly.

3. The next runner up is the first in my series of list posts, about inanimate objects. Apparently, people fairly often search the internets for “inanimate objects list.” My list isn't fully inanimate, either, so I'm totally misinforming the universe. I hope it’s not a common high school assignment, but I’m not really sure why else so many people are looking that up. It’s not a song lyric I don’t know about, is it?

4. And in third place for most read posts is one from the second year of the blog, about gardening with V. I titled it “The most fertile soil on the planet” and that’s pretty much the series of words, or a variation therein, that brings people to that post. Perhaps I should do a series of posts like that, with titles like “The Happiest Place on Earth” or “Best Dental Practices” and see what happens to my readership.

It's a little strange, how new people wander in to the Languishing universe. When Languishing was a print zine, it had a ripple effect when contributors shared their comped copies, but it was a small ripple. So go the internets, I suppose. Big, irregular, random ripples.

Day at the Park

2011-07-23T19:57:00.001-05:00

Yesterday I took the niece, the nephew, and the daughter to the city park near my hometown. As they ran through this field, I was singing the Little House on the Prairie theme song, but Emmy refused to fall down ala Carrie. Damn uncooperative toddlers.

They did cooperate with each other, though, when I was too lazy to push the merry-go-round any longer. They took turns pushing like it was the best idea ever; I was very proud.

Until V decided she wanted to ride the tree frog, at which point Will disagreed by slapping her in the head. To be fair, the tree frog IS a far superior animal to the kangaroo, snail, or tiger.

While the cousins explored a tic-tac-toe game, I explained how when their mama and I were little girls, we had a big fall festival out here every year, and it was big doin's. I recall roasted pork, nickels in straw, three legged races, and other wholesome small town goodness. They were more interested in the tic-tac-toe.

I found half a bag of Cheetos in my purse, and pretended I'd packed them a picnic. They totally bought it, and Em managed to get Cheeto dust up to her forehead.

Then they played on a small stage, and yelled "CLAP!" at me at random times. So I did.

Back at the big pavilion, I decided if Jess & my childhood couldn't enthrall them, maybe I'd go further back. "Your great-great-grandfather helped build this shelter," I said. "My Grandma Minnie told me she remembered bringing him lunch while he and the other men were building it." This is all true, but it's a bit of a stretch, I guess, for kids five and under to care about the grandfather of the grandfather they've never met.

Especially when there's stuff upon which to swing.

It's not a fancy playground, but I care for it a great deal, and it filled our morning with lots of adventures. It was a fine day.

Big City

2011-07-21T21:05:00.001-05:00

The day before our trip to Minneapolis-St. Paul, the girl got a haircut. She wants to grow her bangs out, and I agreed only if she'd let us put in a ponytail or a barrette every single day; this is something she has resisted, often violently, since birth. The next morning, she requested 5 ponytails.

She never does anything halfway, our girl.

So this trip to the Cities was primarily to serve three purposes: for Shaun to see some of his city friends, and for V to see Nickelodeon World. Oh, and for our family to have a quality family vacation. We stayed in a hotel very near the Mall of America (minding the bedbug reports), packed some snacks, our swimsuits, and a few changes of clothes and considered ourselves ready.

Only I forgot to bring clothes for V.

I mean, I brought socks and undies. And her swimsuit But nothing else. I don't know how this happens to me, but usually I don't forget ALL of her clothes. Rather than be normal, and buy her at least a t-shirt, my frugal self just shook out her orange t-shirt every night. She wore it three days in a row. She didn't care at all, but it does make it look like we did a whole heckuva lot in one day, instead of the actual three.

First stop, after freshening up at the hotel: The Rainforest Cafe for dinner with college friends of Shaun's. We got to meet their son and his girlfriend, and I just adore all four of them. Unfortunately for everyone, Shaun, V, and I had never been to this particular restaurant. It's very....stimulating. Visually, it's really lovely and cave-like. And it's noisy, like a rainforest, with thunderstorms every half hour. Cool, right? Well, yeah, if you're not V, who gets overwhelmed sometimes.

She spent most of the evening like this. When her rainbow drink in her rainbow glass came, she insisted it was a rainbow party! But only took one hand away.

Afterwards, though, when she caught sight of Nickelodeon Universe, she was feeling much better.

The next morning (yes, it's the same shirt. Remember my limited packing skills?)

Woody at Lego Land (which is conveintly located just outside Nickelodeon Universe).

V built a safe house. That's what she called it.

Oh, Kai-lan, you Chinese Dora you.

So many characters to meet! Here's Tyrone, Pablo, Uniqua, and V, for those of you unfamiliar.

And even more impressive characters, these three gentlemen, with whom we enjoyed lunch, and then they kindly came with us to watch V in her nirvana. They all went to high school with Shaun.

And dear Brad, who spent time with us on his birthday, even rode the rides that Shaun and I are too wussy to ride.

Later, we had dinner at another college friend's house, and talked about their upcoming (third!) baby while our kids played as if it hadn't been years between our visits.

In between socializing, we swam at the hotel's salt water pool, looked at the tall buildings like the fine country folk we are, and regretted not visiting more of our dear friends, despite not having much time between social obligations already.

It was a fine trip, overall. And V even said she'd go back to the Rainforest Cafe. After she turns 18.

Leftover snapshots

2011-07-21T18:27:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I take photos and I mean for them to end up in a particular post, but they just don't. And then sometimes I go back and notice these photos and think, huh, that was kinda pretty.

And then sometimes I think of that old Sesame Street segment, "One of these things is not like the other." And I get all sappy and nostalgic.

And then I share it with you.

A reprieve of sorts

2011-07-15T08:12:00.001-05:00

Over a year after his initial diagnosis, Shaun finally got some substantially good news about his heart this week. His second echocardiogram from six months ago showed an ejection fraction of 30%, up significantly from his original 15-20%. Still, though, according to the experts, anything below 35% is in the red zone, meaning essentially holy-shit-how-are-you-still-walking-upright? and would require the implantation of a defibrillator.

We were pretty much braced for that step. I mean, he would then be part robot (sweet), and I wouldn't have to break the glass on any AED machines, because he'd have that power within his own chest. But it made me a little queasy, somehow, because it's not as if we could forget, ever, about his extremely poorly named illness once he had a medical device implanted just under his skin.

So yesterday, hanging out in the Heart Place Waiting Room (which is not what it's called but whatever) with the white haired ladies and guys on oxygen tanks, I tried to take deep breaths. It's okay. It's better than having him drop dead in front of me. It'll be a cool party trick when I yell "Clear!" periodically.

The doctor raised his eyebrow as he checked Shaun's latest test results (a MUGA test, this time, which is more precise and also, apparently, more radioactive). I hate raised eyebrows. Shaun and I held hands, and we were both sure the news was going to be bad. Instead, he said "You're at 39%..." What? You mean 29%, right? Or 19%? Nope. "...which means you're not eligible for a defibrillator." What? Really? I mean, maybe we'll regret this sometime, when the robots rise up and an implant would've spared him, but for now? 39 is my most favorite number of all time.

He'll keep working, watching his sodium, exercising, and taking his medications. 39% is just above the red zone, after all. But I feel like we dodged a bullet, at least for now, and I'm so, so glad.

A Fairly Good Time

2011-07-14T22:31:00.002-05:00

I have an unhealthy fondness for carnival signs. These are outside the ferris wheel, and illustrate that a ride on it costs $4. And also that you have to be over 42"tall to ride it without a parent or guardian. I would like both of them outside my house.

It was a perfect, perfect day for the fair: sunny but not too hot, with a nice little breeze. Of course everyone else thought so, too, so we had to wait in a few little lines, but it was worth it.

My sweet fairmates.

From the top of the bigger of the two Ferris Wheels. Our sweet little fair makes me happy.

V recommends the Tornado. Shaun and I do not, and Shaun especially suggests that if you have heart failure of any type, you sit this one out.

Even if your darling daughter blinks her steel blue eyes at you from behind her oversized sunglasses.

It was a really, really good day.

List #18: My favorite characters from books and films.

2011-07-12T21:22:00.000-05:00

Like choosing favorite films, favorite characters can be tricky: these are my top nine today. Tomorrow will most certainly be different. And though I've numbered these, I really can't rank many of them at all.

9. Augustus McCrae from Lonesome Dove. I want to drink whiskey with him, and hear him sing crochety old cowboys songs in the morning.
8. Princess Leia. I can point to her as a princess who takes care of her own business. Suck on that, Disney.
7. Desdemona, from Othello. Oh, pure Desdemona. Every time I read the play, I hope she wins. Every. Time.
6. Isabella from the cheesy historical romance novel Rose of Rapture. My lord, that book deserves its own post. I don't want to just hang out with Isabella: I want to BE her.
5. Inigo Montoya: Mandy Patinkin's finest work.
4. Dewey Dell Bundren. She's not a smart woman, nor an especially kind one, but she really ties the novel As I Lay Dying together.
3. Esperanza in The House on Mango Street. You should really read that book if you haven't yet. I'm part Esperanza, and part Esperanza's best friend. But with less Latina, and more Scandinavia.
2. Joel in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. He's a little boring, but full of goodness, ache, and love. He appeals to me tremendously, despite the fact (or perhaps because?) he's played by Jim Carrey.
1. Fran from Strictly Ballroom. I...I can't explain Fran. She's like Ophelia and Leia and Esperanza all rolled into one Australian dream. I would totally hang out with Fran.

Howsabout you? Are you familiar with my choices? What are some of your favorites today?

Gus the toad

2011-07-11T21:35:00.000-05:00

Will, V and I rescued a toad from a window well in Fargo today. We brought him home, named him Gus, and let him go in the garden. But first we took some pictures. (Thanks to Charlotte for the inspiration).

As a girl growing up in Hendrum, I played with toads and frogs as soon as I could walk. My daughter and nephew, however, have many more forms of entertainment available to them. This was, as far as I can recall, their first toad.

"You touch him." "No, you go ahead."

"His belly is squishy, but his back is rough," V said with genuine wonder when she finally worked up the courage to let me place him in her hands. I don't know how it is that I've raised a child with so little toad experience in her first five years.

Gus, to his credit, was very patient. And now he's free.

My Little Dinner Party

2011-07-08T16:00:00.000-05:00

I teach Judy Chicago’s art installation The DinnerParty in my Women in the Humanities course, and it never fails to make an impact on the students. So I thought it only fitting to create my own Dinner Party guest list.

1. Sylvia Plath: you sweet, broken genius. Come over and have tea. I’ll keep you away from the oven if you stay away from my daddy issues.

2. Elizabeth Cady Stanton: How fantastic to have one of the mothers of feminism at our table! Please, Elizabeth, stay awhile and help us fix this unholy mess of a country.

3. Marilyn Monroe: I believe she was way smarter than any of us gave her credit for, and broken like the rest of us.

4. Susan B. Anthony: a little redundant, what with E. C. Stanton, but I bet she’d be fun at parties.

5. Liz Phair: given the guest list, I think she’d be a kick-ass addition. Plus, she’s also the only one besides me who’s still alive.

6. 7, 8, and 9. My great-grandmothers, Beatta, Myra, Elizabeth, and Emilie. I never met any of them, and I think it would be cool to hang out with all 4. I know Beatta died of cancer, Myra is whom my mother is named after, Elizabeth had long, thick, white hair, and Emilie had five children including identical twins, one of which she named Emil. I don’t know if they like talking politics, or music, or Kennedys, but we’ll figure out something.

We would eat expensive cheese, drink cheap wine, and have lefse. Who would you invite to your party?

Holiday Weekend in Nine Photos

2011-07-05T09:34:00.001-05:00

Other fantasies I like to entertain

2011-07-03T17:58:00.000-05:00

So I wrote recently about my plans for winning the lottery. But wait, there's more! (there's always more....)

Anyway, with (nearly) unlimited funds, I'd buy a place like this, paint it in Edward-Scissorhands-like colors, and invite my friends to pick their own cabins. Wouldn't that be fun? We could have sun tea every day at two in the afternoon, and sit outside on metal lawn chairs and fan ourselves with paper fans and watch our dogs do cute things like wear funny hats and bring us cans of beer. And on tuesdays, we'd have sushi on the roof of the larger house, overlooking the lake, and on Saturdays we'd have a big bonfire and burn old student papers.

As soon as my stupid state reopens, I should really buy a lottery ticket for once. I have so much to do.

Lakeside wildlife: navy worms

2011-06-30T08:08:00.000-05:00

I had never seen these creatures until a few years ago: I'm told they're called Navy worms.

Navy worm on the left; ant on the right. Perhaps they're in love.

Whatever the name, they are EVERYWHERE at the lake again this year. They cluster at corners of the fence, climb up onto cars, and fall out of the trees like wiggling raindrops. Voracious eaters of leaves, they don't seem to be interested in biting any other living thing.

They are a little creepy, especially in such large numbers, and the expansive damage they leave behind is massive, but up close I find them kind of, dare I say, cute.

I'm probably going to regret that one day, when the world is taken over by navy worms, and all the trees die, and they turn to eating humans. Until then, though, they make fun photo subjects.

Seven recovers nicely, it turns out.

2011-06-28T14:57:00.001-05:00

After a week, Seven got to take his silly cone collar off, and his eye is so much better. We still don't know if he has vision in that eye, but since it's finally considerably smaller than a tennis ball, and it isn't hurting him, we are happy dog owners. Someone recently pointed out that his breed is the best, because it's the two swears: bichon/shih tzu. For some reason I find this completely delightful.

We're still working on the finer points of housetraining, and he likes to bark a lot at our neighbor's three dogs (who bark at him even more). But he is so soft, and every so often he comes over, and rubs against my shin with his goofy face, and we feel pretty lucky to have such a sweet addition to our family.

How could anyone not love that fluffy face? Awwww...

My little mermaid

2011-06-27T19:05:00.000-05:00

I think it's way too cold to swim today, and this water was fresh from the hose. But the girl, she loves any water. And I think she's learned a couple of tricks from Seven.

Hope you're making the most of your summer. We're sure trying.

Holy crap. Nine years.

2011-06-26T16:40:00.000-05:00

I've said it all before, here, and here, and here. Nine years married to the hairy, crazy, crass, loving man that is Shaun. We celebrated on Friday with dinner out and a Netflix movie. That's what nine years has done to us: made us crazy celebraters.

Eight years ago, we had a giant reception for ourselves. I got to wear my wedding dress again, and Tami did my hair, and all of our dearest friends and family showed up to party like rockstars. Above, we're singing "You're the One That I Want" from Grease. It was the best party we've ever thrown (except Tenessa got crazy hungover: oops).

Maybe if we make it nine more, we'll throw ourselves another reception. V will be 14: she could babysit for you, if you needed. Or almost sobercab us all home. Would you come? We'd love to see you!

Quirky is as quirky does

2011-06-25T11:00:00.003-05:00

I am Dewey Johnson's daughter: collections of weird, old crap make me feel like I'm home. But when it's not my old weird crap, and it's right next to my house, I start to like it a little bit less.

Collection of old paint cans three inches from my driveway. Early Summer 2011-present. (Now buried under three truck loads of lumber).

My neighbor is essentially who I would've grown up to be if not for Shaun: she's single, has no children, and struggles with health issues. She also loves dogs and swears like a sailor. I kind of like her, and she's always kind to V in the way that people who are sickly and swear like sailors try to be nice to kids. Aside from her penchant for letting homeless people live in my driveway, I have no problem with her. She's sort of hardscrabble, and I like that. But she collects. Well, no. She hoards.

The lawnmower collection. June 15 2011- present.
Five push mowers and one riding mower. In a standard city lot (40' x 120' or so). No professional mowing business involved. The rhubarb, above, is growing right on our property line, through our fence (thank god for fences).

So, I don't really care about any of that stuff. I mean, it's kind of unsightly, but if I wanted a scenic vista I certainly shouldn't've bought a house in North Moorhead. And V's not the kind of kid who goes wandering into other people's yards, so I'm not worried about her safety, exactly. Though those paint cans must be some sort of environmental hazard...our other neighbors (everyone else on our street, as far as I can tell) HATE it. They hate her stuff, and many of them strongly dislike our neighbor, or worse. Believe it or not, the city came a couple of autumns ago and took everything away (yes. these two collections are all less than two years old), and I don't know about your city, but ours doesn't really show up unless they get numerous complaints. But none of those complaints came from us. Afterwards, everyone on our block got a letter of reprimand from the city, telling us to play nice and not call each other names or tell our children malicious things which they may repeat (seriously. It's an awesome letter). It made me very sad, and not because we had been playing nice all along. It's just sad to me when grown ups are mean to each other.

And truly, my neighbor's collection is nothing compared to what my family compiled, before and after I was born. We owned over half a city block, and my dad and uncle would scoff at only six different lawnmowers. Somewhere in heaven, Dewey's laughing. "I had six mowers by the time I was V's age!"

Still, I feel like I'm not a very good American somehow if this doesn't piss me off more. What's your take, gentle readers? Would you be more annoyed than I am? Is it just my crap-filled upbringing that makes me tolerate this crazy hoarding issue? For the record, Shaun doesn't care at all about her stuff: as long as it doesn't affect him, she can do what she wants. Perhaps we're just the libertarian family on a block full of angry republicans.

I do know that if there's a zombie apocalypse, my neighbor's house is going to have most of what we might need to survive. Perhaps that should be my main comfort.

Things that Confuse Me: List #17

2011-06-22T16:59:00.000-05:00

9. How airplanes stay up (Yes, I know, air pressure, propulsion, blah blah blah).

8. Communicating with Shaun (it's not just mars & venus. ugh)

7. Parenthood (why does almost everyone do this when it is SO DAMN HARD?)

6. Why I live in this godforsaken part of the world.

5. Dinosaurs (Do not tell me Noah had dinosaurs on the ark. I will poke you).

4. People who just don't get grammar. At all. (Not people who make mistakes sometimes, mind you. I mean people who just have no grasp).

3. People who honk inappropriately (This could be my own issue, since I always assume it's directed at me. I think I have excess driving guilt).

2. People in general (I would make a terrible waitress. Or greeter).

1. Most children's television (Calliou, I'm looking in your direction).

If you can explain any of the above, or want to share what puzzles your own self, please leave a comment. Please.

Things I consider when I really should be grading (Winning the Lottery)

2011-06-15T14:08:00.001-05:00

If I won the lottery:

I'd pay off our mortgage, and our car. Then our student loans, and our immediate family’s student loans, and Tami's & Susanne's student loans would all be paid off. Others to be considered once a year by an elaborate application process that I will likely develop in the near future, just in case.

I would buy my grandmother’s house, next door to my mom’s, and set it up as a little quilt shop. Who cares if we break even? We’ll put a long-arm machine in the boys’ room, upstairs, and serve cookies & peppermint tea every single day. Wanna come over?

I’d buy my sister and her family a reasonable, lovely home to move to their lovely lot.

I’d buy an elaborate Gypsy caravan & a ‘68 Dodge Coronet to pull it. Then V and I and Seven (and Shaun, if 'n he wants to) would travel where few people have seen Gypsy caravans. Like…um, Kentucky. And Montana. Maybe New Mexico.

Then I’d get myself 3 new pairs of Danksos, in brown, black, and red. Because everyone loves red shoes.

And that's it. Seriously. Oh, okay. I'd probably put up a 6' cedar fence around our backyard, and plant a bunch of kick ass perennials, and hire someone to paint our window ledges this summer. Because I'm going to be driving all over in the Coronet, so I don't have time to mow the lawn or climb ladders and whatnot.

Howsabout you?

What we're enjoying right now....

2011-06-12T21:09:00.001-05:00

Backyard wildlife.

Visiting the in-laws.

Soft pupdog cuddling.

Hope your June is going beautifully.

My kind of sculpture

2011-06-09T22:29:00.002-05:00

The shelter where we went to adopt Seven is a working ranch, with all kinds of fauna. And as we drove in, it was pretty clear that if my crazy neighbor Kathy and I lived on a farm together, this would be the kind of place we'd have.

Most notable, aside from the turkeys, llamas, dogs, peacocks, ducks, geese, and cats, were the mannequin heads.

Atop the fence posts, with silk flower accoutrement.

And the occasional farmyard diorama.

One of the members of the board has a beauty school, and donates heads each season. I'm so jealous. And I love how they look after enduring the Northern Minnesota winters.

I love a girl with an Ankh earring....

Or a fella with a head full of blooms.
I was so grateful they let me take photos, because they are really hard to describe effectively. Now, who knows where I can get myself some mannequin heads?

Ebony and Ivory

2011-06-09T01:00:00.001-05:00

Seven meeting Rocket for the first time.

Thanks for all your happy responses to Seven! Some of you had questions about him, and since he's all I want to talk about lately, I'm more than happy to do another post.

We found Seven through Petfinder.com, a lovely way to yank your own heartstrings. I have read more than enough student essays on puppy mills to convince me of the importance of pet adoption, but we've also had our share of less than perfect pets through adoption. I do recommend pet adoption, though, to anyone considering pet ownership. There are so damn many dogs (and cats, and bunnies....) waiting.

We didn't have a name chosen when we went to pick him up, but we had fun on the drive home: V liked Milk, Coconut, and Vanilla (but she may have just needed a snack). I loved Umlaut and Dr. Nutbucket (any pet name that begins with "Dr." or "Mr." is automatically funnier). Shaun was unimpressed, until I mentioned numbers. Eleven? Five? (I liked Five, because V is, of course, a roman numeral....) I said we could name him Nine, after Roger Maris. And it came to us, clearly, as a family, that this little dog should be named Seven. It's a Seinfeld reference, and also V was born on the seventh of September. And it's a lucky number. And Mickey Mantle's. And none of us hated it (though I cried a little to lose Dr. Nutbucket).

Aside from his eye, Seven is healthy (knock on wood!), though he does sometimes make funny little hiccup/burp noises when he sleeps. It's just about the cutest sound ever.

The rumors you have heard are true.

2011-06-08T14:09:00.001-05:00

We have a new dog. We've named him Seven.

He's a bichon-shih-tzu cross, and will be one year old on June 25th. We got him from a rescue, who got him from a puppy mill. He's housetrained, and kinda quiet, and he is completely in love with V.

An hour before we picked him up, he got bitten in the eye by another dog. These photos are from day one and two; by day three, he was an unholy mess (I have photos, but you don't want to see them). $160 worth of dog medications later, his eye is getting better, and hopefully he'll get to have his funny cone-shaped collar removed by the end of the week.

A warm bundle of fluffy love at my feet? Oh, mercy, I've missed this.

V reads to Seven, and Seven loves V. I hope they have many years of adventures together.

Well, we DID turn 38 this year....

2011-05-30T21:43:00.000-05:00

so maybe that's why my friend Dan's car now just says "Old."

The rainbow ends in a field in North Dakota.

2011-05-28T09:02:00.000-05:00

In fact, it both begins and ends in North Dakota. Who knew?

Last night's rainbows.

My very first day of teaching, in 1998, I was driving to Crookston, scared out of my gourd. I kept thinking, "What if I don't like it? What if I suck at teaching?" I had a Master's degree, but absolutely zero experience in front of the classroom. I was starting to get more than a little panicky, but then, quite suddenly, I saw a large hawk on a fence, and behind him was a lovely little rainbow. I'm not much for superstition, but I felt comforted by what must've been a good sign.

I don't know what last night's rainbows indicate, but how can it help but be good?

Our Little Zoo

2011-05-26T11:19:00.000-05:00

I have an affinity for peacocks. You do what you will with that information: I just like them.

And the peacocks at our zoo are fairly tame, letting us take close ups before indignantly walking away, or glaring at us until we're shamed into leaving them be.

The photo above made me contemplate what peacock must taste like. Is that wrong?

Two of the most interesting subjects at the zoo, above.

This is the meerkat sentinel. He was very, very observant. And a little twitchy.

The llama's dental issues concerned Shaun. I told him all llamas look like that, but I was totally bullshitting. I don't know anything about llamas.

The peahens hang out on the playground equipment. I'm sure they're irritated when excited 5 year olds want to go down the slide with them. I imagine that when the zoo closes, they do carefully choreographed dances using the chain ladders.

Is it just zoos in North Dakota that have prairie dog exhibits? I hope not.

If not for their creepy eyes, I would totally want a baby goat to come and live with us. So cute! Of course they grow into bigger goats who can eat the laundry off the line, so it's probably for the best.

Our sunny days have been rare so far, but this was a good one.

Languishing's Guide to Flower Photos of which to be Proud

2011-05-18T20:46:00.002-05:00

Everyone's always saying to me, "Jen, your flower photos inspire me to take more pictures! And try more new and unusual foods! And donate more plasma!" (Okay, no one has actually said any of those things. Except in my head). And they also say "How do you do it? How do you make it look so easy?" So this post is a loving answer to the voices in my head. If you're not one of the voices, and/or don't care about taking kick-ass flower photos, feel free to stop reading right now.

Pre-tip #A: These tips don't just apply to flowers, but to many, many photography subjects. And also, I don't have any idea what I'm doing, so you should probably ignore me a find a real photographer's blog to learn anything worthwhile.

Tip #1: Take lots, and lots, and lots of pictures. Just keep clicking. Once you know your digital camera well enough to take a non-blurry photo about 75% of the time, you can just go to town. Take several shots of each subject, and consider trying photographs at different times during the day. High noon can be lovely, but so can eight in the evening. And morning sunshine in May is a whole nother thing than you recall, I bet. I will often take 100 pictures in an average day, and cut down to 60 just by reviewing in the camera (though if there's any doubt, wait and look at them on a larger screen!). Then I often end up with around 30 or 40 after viewng them on the laptop. If I'm recording an event, like a birthday party, I often don't cut that many, because I want to make sure I have some photos of everyone. But with flowers? You get one or two great shots of a flower, you're probably good. If you want more, go ahead. I won't mutter about your obsessive tendencies behind your back. Much.
Anyhoo, my point is, you can always delete the ones that don't work, but if you took only 6 photos and none of them are fantastic, well, you're pretty much screwed. The joy of digital is deleting the stupid pictures.

Tip #2: Try different angles! This is true of all subjects. Many people just take photos from wherever their point of view is: this gives us nearly aerial views of kids and dogs and anything shorter than the photographer. And upsettingly nasal views of Uncle Roger, if the photographer is shorter than him.

At the very least, get down to eye-level, and pretend you're a garden gnome. Remember those cheesy elementary school tulip drawings you used to do? With the petals and the v between them, and then when you got fancy you drew another petal between the v? Well, you were right. That's pretty much how a tulip looks from the side.

From the top, though, up close (use that handy macro setting on your camera. It even shows a picture of a tulip to indicate the macro! This means you!), this looks like a whole new flower. The purpley-red goodness really shows here, and the lovely symmetry.

Same damn tulip, shot from below. I love shots from below. Yes, you have to get down on the ground. Sometimes you get twigs in your hair, or ants. Pay attention so you don't get anything worse than that. This is a bit dark (these photos in this post are all unretouched, save for occassional cropping), because this tulip is in the shade, but I love how totally transformed the same flower is, just by changing my perspective.

Tip #3: Fill your frame! If you're taking a photo of a tulip, make sure the tulip is CLEARLY the subject. If you take a photo of a tulip and twelve dandelions, you can't expect your viewers to know what you're getting at. When photographing flowers, I like to get as close as my camera will let me without getting blurry, which is pretty close.

Yes, you can see ferns and undergrowth behind the red tulip, but any closer and I would've been all Georgia O'Keefey. Which I'm totally for, by the way. But today I just wanted that classic yellow and black framed by red and green.

One of the peony tulips, above, spreading fast. It will probably be gone by tomorrow.

I found the center of this peony tulip the most interesting part, so I got all up in its business. This is not as effective with people, as some of them might not like that. But flowers don't seem to mind atall.

Tip #4: Don't be afraid to crop! Since you've filled your frame, you have even more to work with. You can save the original as a separate file, if you're nervous like that, but especially if you have one of those newer type digital cameras, you've got enough megapixels for major croppage.

Even if you'd never seen a purple-black tulip in person, this photo lets you see the very texture of the petals! I'm impressed with myself, even. (This is a crop of the first photo in the post, under Tip #2)

And you don't always have to crop to make things centered or to remove that glimpse of your camera strap. You can crop for effect, to show the fabulous pink stripes, above,

or to illustrate the feather-like translucency of flower petals. This was shot from below, on macro, and cropped down. Plus, I turned this one on its side, because I like that it's framed by mostly sky and a little tree, and looks like it just poked in from the right.

Be adventurous in your cropping. Maybe you wanted a photo of a tulip, but it turns out the sky is way prettier. Crop that pesky tulip out! Or leave in just a little. Or whatever. Cropping is fun for young and old!

Tip #5: Mind the riff-raff. We've all had great photos ruined by some weird Anderson kid who pops up in the background at the last minute and you don't realize it until you get your film developed. But he's not the riff-raff I'm talking about here. I mean the stuff in the background we tend to ignore: the neighbor's can collection, the wires in the backyard, the peeling paint on the northeast corner of the house. They may be ignorable in real life, but in photos, they are less so. Case in point:

Did I know those wires were there? Sure. Do I want them in my photo? Nope. The thing is, when I shoot from below, I sometimes do it blind (so as not to get ants and twigs in my hair) and just take a bunch and check them later. Had I just shot from the other side of these tulips, those wires would never have been in the background. But I didn't, and I was lazy, and now I have this lovely, translucent tulip shot full of ugly wires in the background. That'll teach me. (Well, not really. But maybe it'll teach you).

There you have it, folks. Languishing's first 5 tips to Flower Photos of which to be Proud. "First five?" the voices are asking Yes, voices, there are more. You'll just have to stay tuned to find out.

List #16: The best concerts I've attended

2011-05-17T22:34:00.003-05:00

You know, I don't get out much. Having a child slows down the social life, of course, and I'm lazy, and we're kind of broke, and have you seen the price of gas? But I used to get out. And since I have no new exciting concert reviews to share, here are nine shows from nights out past that I recommend, if'n you get a chance.

9. Brian Setzer Orchestra: Brian Setzer of Stray Cats fame got himself an orchestra, and I liked it.

8. Indigo Girls: With my friend Nena when we were in college, we drove up to Duluth and ignored the lesbian jokes and sang along, loudly.

7.the Gear Daddies: Another college memory. Every spring we had a lovely outdoor party time thing at UMM: I can't remember what it was called, but this is the first one I went to. I bought myself a silver armadillo necklace that day. What's not to love?

6. Dwight Yoakum: Oh, I love him. He played the Red River Valley Fair, and Dan Lee and I stood up close and personal. Somebody should play Dwight Yoakum music at my funeral. Or better, somebody should make Dwight Yoakum come to my birthday party.

5.Tripp 40/Fat Daddies: Shaun's uncle's band, I've seen these guys much more often than any other band. They let Shaun sing "Jenny" (867-5309) whenever we're there, and nothing makes my heart pitterpat like Shaun singing, especially my name.

4. Cat Sank Trio: My friends Crystal and Terry are in a quartet called the Cat Sank Trio. It's lovely and harmonious and I like going out on the town to see them very, very much. And I keep trying to think of ways for them to let me play with them, but they don't seem interested in my tenor saxaphone ideas.

3. The Reverend Horton Heat: My favorite band of all time. I've seen them twice here, and at least 3 times in Minneapolis. I lurve them. The end.

2. KISS: The year Shaun and I were first dating (2000), KISS did their first farewell tour. If you have a chance to see KISS, let me say, it's worth the price of admission. Shaaun and I and his brother Steve (who came on an awful lot of our early dates, actually) had good seats, but they turned all dreamy-like when Paul Stanley sailed out to a small stage next to us and played "Love Gun" right in front of us. It just can't get better than that.

1. The Realtors/The Extension Chords: Shaun's high school boy band, they've performed a few times in the last ten years, and as I mentioned in #5, nothing makes my heart pitter-pat like Shaun singing.

These are my nine favorites. What are yours?

Peony Tulips

2011-05-16T00:11:00.000-05:00

I don't know when or where, or even why, but sometime in the last few years I ordered some peony tulips, and despite my utmost negligence, several of them have flourished. Every year I'm surprised to see them, and I like them so much.

These do last quite a bit longer than regular tulips, and open a little later. They'll be here almost until the actual peonies bloom.

I love this photo, above: so purely white. (The tree in the background is a volunteer that I'm trying to decide if we should keep or not. It's only about seven feet from the house, but it's not under any wires. Unfortunately, it's in the middle of limited garden space. I just have a hard time cutting down things with such tenacity).

Meanwhile, back to the tulips: the bits of green on the outside petals are my favorite part!

Crafty Goodness

2011-05-13T21:14:00.002-05:00

Because it’s less than 50 degrees outside, V and I celebrated our indoor craftiness mojo yesterday. I bought this “silk-screening” kit sometime in July last year, during the 75%off toys Target sale (“silk screening” is in quotes because it’s really a fancy stenciling set-up. And I'd provide you with the name of the thing but I'm too lazy to get up to check). I bought all the additions, too, and spent less than $30 total (with an original retail price of $120…). They came with unholy amounts of pink fabric paint, but enough others to make it worth our while. Because I'm essentially, as I mentioned earlier, lazy, we didn’t get around to using it until now.

As a busty woman with an excess of gravity around me, I often have tops with annoying little stains on them. I thought stencils might be a good way to camouflage an otherwise perfectly good shirt. V occasionally gets persistent stains, too, but more often than not, I find her several thrift store t-shirts in boring solid colors. To encourage her artistic side, I let her pick her stencils, and the colors. She picked a turtle in green, a butterfly (“let’s make it a monarch!”), and most enthusiastically, a boom box. Or, as she called it, a boom-boom-boom box.

We had to mix the orange from the available red and yellow (hello, learning!) but it turned out orange-r than it looks here, I promise. Note to self: more yellow, less red next time.

I tried to get her to make a pink turtle, to use up some of that pink, but she would have none of it.

Sadly, the monarch is already a touch small. New nightgown for cousin Emmy!

But the turtle and the boom box are pretty fantastic. The paint has a decent hand to it, not too stiff, and though sometimes it didn’t work as well as I’d hoped(those projects are not pictured, to protect everyone involved), I think this was a good first run.

Shedid, after all, wear the boom box to school today.

New garden

2011-05-11T21:14:00.000-05:00

We got a new, raised-bed garden today. V helped fill it with a variety of types of dirt, and talked excitedly about what we would plant. "I like squash!" I don't know who taught her that; it wasn't us, but we'll be planting squash. Obviously.

"It's like we're farmers" she said.

While I moved on to photographing fancy tulips*, V kept working the soil. Myra's gonna be so proud.

And if you've gotta work the soil, you might as well wear cute shoes**. Right?

Like we're farmers, indeed.

*Upcoming post: stay tuned.
**Born maryjanes, from two or three years ago.

Mother's Day Loveliness

2011-05-09T07:36:00.000-05:00

It rained. And rained.

But it wasn't terribly cold, and the kids were good, and the dogs weren't too crazy, and nobody got particularly pissed off. That's a good weekend at the lake, if you ask me.

When the sun did come out, the cousins were ready to soak it up.

After eight months away, it was good to come back to the lake, with so many people we love, and celebrate a brave, cancer-free mama/grandma/mama-in-law.

Beth and I found this very, very special carnation for her. And I think it really made her day complete.

Hope you're finding sunshine between the rainstorms this week.

For my friend Meg

2011-05-05T21:55:00.000-05:00

...who, each day, gets a little closer to bursting into bloom.

Quotes about Spring

2011-05-01T08:35:00.000-05:00

Because the only words I can think of right now are swears.

"In the spring I have counted one hundred and thirty-six different kinds of weather

inside of four and twenty hours." ~Mark Twain

"May is a pious fraud of the almanac." ~James R. Lowell

"Spring has returned. The Earth is like a child that knows poems"~Rainer Maria Rilke

Welcome spring!

2011-04-29T11:20:00.000-05:00

Oh, seasonally appropriate weather. We are so glad you've finally arrived.

We can't come back 'til the water goes down...

2011-04-27T16:07:00.000-05:00

It's mostly subsided, now, this spring's flood. Floods are weird like that. Hurricanes, tornadoes, even blizzards only last a day or two at most. But a flood comes in and often stays for weeks. We live upstream from my hometown, so even a week after it crested here, Hendrum still waited. Eventually there was only one road open to get into or out of town. And even there, water for miles and miles.

The photo above was taken last week, after the crest, when Hendrum again had 4 roads in and out. It's the east side of Highway 75, for those of you who're from these parts. Yes, the east side. The side furthest from the river. It's not easy to be a farmer around here this spring, I imagine. Or a rat, or a deer, or a raccoon, probably. (didja see how I used the mirror to illustrate the vastness of the wateriness? huh? didja?)

V's a city girl, of course, and so we measure our floodwaters by roadsign. Here's the mighty Red, from about the same time, slowly going back down (that's a parking ramp on the right side of the photo). When V and I first checked, only the top two inches of the stop sign were visible. Then the whole sign disappeared, and after a few days it started peeking out again, bit by bit. It's been fun to have a concrete way to measure the rise and fall that didn't involve homes of dear friends.

It's tiring, these floodwaters. I'm glad they're going, and I hope they stay away awhile.

Easter festivities

2011-04-26T21:34:00.001-05:00

Without vinegar, this totally lacked the smell of egg dyeing, but since we're not sure V can smell anyway, what the heck.

Nothing like putting on your Pearl Jam t-shirt and dyein' some eggs on Easter morning.

Kirigami

2011-04-24T23:09:00.000-05:00

While I wait for students to arrive for the conferences they signed up for, I work on the 2004 Kirigami calendar I bought at Barnes and Noble for 75% off 7 years ago. It makes me feel productive and I kinda think it's magic.

Plus it keeps me from grading, which, currently, is my main objective.

Puzzling

2011-04-19T11:58:00.001-05:00

V got this puzzle for Christmas from our friend Nancy. This is the third time we've done it: we discuss the Addams family while we work, and it's really fun.

And it brings up memories I had long forgotten. When I was a girl, my family LOVED puzzles. Every holiday, all winter, and just about any time was a good time for a puzzle. I have few memories of my grandfather, who died when I was 6, but many of them involve him hovering around a dining room table, working on a puzzle. We had three or four puzzles we did every Christmas, and it helped us bide our time while we waited to open presents.

But it wasn't enough to just do puzzles, for some reason. My dad had all kinds of elaborate rules for puzzles, and puzzle doing was serious business. These rules were non-negotiable, and though I didn't enforce them with V(except for #1), I felt bad for breaking each rule.

Dewey's rules for puzzles:

1. No food or drink on the puzzle table. At all. Ever. If you need coffee or a snack, get a TV tray and put it up next to the puzzle table. Then consume it over the TV tray, not the puzzle. Also, you'll have to listen to the story about when Grandpa Art spilled coffee on a brand new puzzle one year.

2. When we open a puzzle, and dump out the pieces, we have to flip over all of them before we put anything together. Every piece. When I was too little to really do much else with puzzles, this was often my job, and my family was all about the 1000 piece ones. It took for freaking ever.

3. If any of the pieces were left together from the last time this puzzle was done (my aunt Barbie was notorious for just folding a puzzle up to put it away) everything must be taken apart and spread out. Just two pieces together? One on each end of the table. More than that, and we had to mix them in.

4. Everyone gets to look at the cover of the box once. Just once. When someone new comes to start work on the puzzle, they get to look at, but the rest of us who've already seen it are expected to avert our eyes. And then we talk about those crazy people who use the box to place individual pieces, and don't follow the other rules, either. Heathens.

5. If, when the puzzle is finished, there are pieces missing, we look around carefully to see if there're any on the floor. If not, we take a slip of scrap paper, slide it under the puzzle, and trace the missing piece. Then we write on the slip a description of what's missing (i.e. blue hippo eye, or Santa's left elbow). This precious slip goes into the puzzle box so we know what's gone for next time.

I sure wish he was here to teach these to V, though. I'm a pushover when it comes to made up rules, it turns out. Somewhere he's hollering at us everytime we look at the box, I just know it. I hope he understands.

Riverside conversation

2011-04-14T20:31:00.000-05:00

Myra: "I hope there isn't a squirrel living in that tree with a hole."

Jen: "If there is, I bet he's pissed."

V: "And angry. And wet."

Playground with Grandma

2011-04-13T16:12:00.000-05:00

V has so little fear. She loves to run and climb and jump and leap, and when she falls, she laughs and runs some more. Grandma's the one who takes her to the playground the most often, and pushes the swings, and takes the pictures, and helps her dust off her pants when she hits the ground.

It's a pretty good deal for everybody, really.

When you live in an ancient lake basin...

2011-04-10T23:19:00.001-05:00

My mother likes to talk about Lake Agassiz. Maybe it's because she's a former elementary school teacher, but it's a little embarrassing, actually, to bring friends home from college and have them get Myra's lecture on The Big Lake. But she's right. I know she's right everytime we leave this valley, and my ears pop like I'm on an airplane because I'm not used to the elevation.

So it surprises no one that our basement (hell, everyone's basement in the eleven county area) takes on water this time of year. I honestly don't know why so many of us have basements, even. And every year I swear I'm going to be ready for it, and every year I get pissed off when it shows up. Really, really pissed off.

Today, I cursed the rain, my basement, the people who built this house, the people who sold us this house, my realtor, the guy at Menard's who sold me a lousy 8 gallon wetvac, my grandparents for settling in this area, the length of my own pants, my dad for having a stroke instead of staying well and living long enough to help me with this crap, gravity, those disgusting little centipedes that curl up and die all over my basement, linoleum, the nasty consistency of wet cardboard, and Lake Agassiz.

(I emptied the wetvac 5.5 times in 20 minutes. That's right. 44 gallons of water. The first photo is of my basement, just an hour after I got rid of 44 gallons of water. The second photo is my damn stupid long pants.)

I know, geologically, that this is what we deserve. But it doesn't mean I have to like it.

Springiness

2011-04-09T13:38:00.001-05:00

This winter, I bought a bag of silver forks at Savers. They'd been drilled through the handles, and two of the seven were attached to this heavy silver ring. Today, V and I attached the rest, fashioned a wire hanger, and put it up in the backyard, hanging off the clothesline. It sounds really lovely, though the wind has to blow pretty hard to move them. And I like being the kind of family that has seven forks hanging in our backyard.

In the front yard, despite our profound negligence, the tulips are still coming. I am deeply grateful for such persistence.

The slugs and other crawly things were enjoying the fruits of our lack of labor.

And V enjoyed the slugs and crawly things.

I think these are daffodils. This time of year, I'm so pleased with my past self for taking the time to plant flowers. Because I need inspiration something fierce this time of year.

I hope spring is coming to your neighborhood, too!

Busy and Angry and Tired, oh my!

2011-04-04T17:42:00.001-05:00

Busy: It's the last four weeks of the semester, ladies and gentlemen. Yes, that's right. It means I'm up to my neck in grading, the laundry's piling up, and the car needs washed. And yet....I want to blog. I want to frolic and share and love all of you, and piss on this giant stack of student papers. (Well, not literally. Once, when we had a black miniature poodle named Zuul with some anger issues, he peed on some student papers. Those were fun to hand back). It's funny how that works, isn't it? How just when we feel totally tapped out we seee something shiny and suddenly have all the energy we could want.

Angry: Oh, lord, I'm angry at snow. I've never been mad at snow before, that I can recall, though probably I have. But it just.will.not.leave. It's filthy and grey and going to flood our river all to hell but it's taking its own sweet time.We still have 6' high piles all around. And just when the driveway is almost clear, we get another 7 inches. Even Shaun's getting in on this anger party: a couple of weeks ago he came home just furious at the weather. So we talk about moving, and watch a movie or two, and then spring finally shows up and we forget about moving until next winter. Gak. Stupid sneaky snow.

Tired: I'm tired of being busy and angry, I guess. I'm looking forward to my sabbatical but it still seems entirely abstract and far away. I want to set out a bird feeder, and cook something new, but mostly I just want to take a nap. And blog.

Anyway, what a depressing, whiny post! Here, I will offer you something to cheer you up. V had two birthday parties to attend on Saturday, and we made the gifts for both. Here's the second party, at our local bowling alley (bowling parties are fun! I'd never been to one before!). We made our friend Oscar Costumes on a Stick, and he let his guests show them off with him.

I think they were a success! And isn't this a much happier ending? I thought so.

Languishing's first ever video post.

2011-04-01T14:51:00.000-05:00

Let's hope we don't break the internet.

Messy crafty goodness

2011-03-30T22:25:00.000-05:00

I've seen this online in several places, and my Aunt Barbie and her ilk have done this on occassion in their card making adventures. So V and I decided to see what all the fuss was about.

We started with a cheap can of shaving cream, and filled a couple of cookie sheets. V made a few snowpeople and some sort of merengue.

Then we dripped food coloring, and used various utensils to swirl. We just used the basic food coloring in those cool little droppers, and plastic forks and spoons.

V had the red and orange, and I had the blue and green. Then we laid sheets of drawing paper over the top, and pulled them back to see what we had wrought.

Then we scraped off the shaving cream, and enjoyed the magic we'd created. Again and again and again! It was messy as hell, and fun, and V got a bath afterwards and we lived happily ever after.

I'm sorry we don't have any pictures of the finished product, but you get the idea. And we had lots of fun.

Never Eat Shredded Wheat

2011-03-21T11:49:00.002-05:00

I love mnemonic devices. Love. When Shaun and I were first dating, I bought my first vintage Samsonite suitcase (which is a whole nother series of posts. Lord), and it had the initials EP on it. We spent a good 45 minutes imagining what they may have stood for, and it's one of my fondest memories of our early courtship (The two I remember most are Elvis Presley and Edible Panties).

The other day, V was asking what direction we were driving, so I explained north, south, east, and west to her. And then I shared how I remember them: Never Eat Shredded Wheat. Now, V and I both enjoy the occassional shredded wheat, so she was not comfortable with this sentence. Today, she put the letters N E S W up on our fridge and worked on new sentences.

No Easter? Soon winter.
Never eat soft wombats.
No, Edith. Say what?
Never eat singing worms.

She read each dramatically, especially the one about Edith, and we laughed and laughed and laughed.

I can hardly wait until we get to Every Good Boy Does Fine. What are your favorite mnemonic devices? And have you seen this helpful online tool?

Edited for spelling. Thanks, Cousin!