Tuesday, October 02, 2012

Subtle Hint

October! Happy October! It's October! It's almost Halloween! I love Halloween! I love October!

Yes, I am a bit over-excited. I finished making Drek's Halloween costume, and I'll finish Ash's today. I decorated our yard yesterday, which I have been dying to do since last year:



(ha ha, dying, get it?) After I put the  gravestones up I thought to myself "it's a good thing we haven't landscaped our yard yet, the dead yard makes it so creepy." When Drek got home the first thing he said was "Our yard looks really creepy! Aren't you glad we haven't landscaped it yet?"  There's an upside to everything. 

That is just phase one of our yard. I have three more phases planned. I'll keep you updated. 

Yesterday Drek brought home some pumpkins so we could do our family tradition of painting pumpkins for Family Home Evening! 

This beautiful artwork was done by Drek. 


Ash did this one


And, severely lacking any artistic talent, this one is mine. 

Now where are the pumpkin cookies?

Sunday, September 30, 2012

You Can't Lift a Hammer, You Can't Swing an Axe, You Can't Even Throw One of These!

Yesterday we decided to get adventurous with our family outing and go to the local Viking Festival. Why not? we thought. I looked at the website and was pleased to note that a mere seven dollar per person entrance fee would get you a slice of bread made in their brick ovens and into all weapons throwing competitions, including archery and fish-tossing. Even though Ash would be free, all the activities in the kid-zone were free, even the bounce house! So we went. 

Well, the website lied. Everything but the bounce house cost extra. Drek later noted that the festival was merely the Nordic version of Octoberfest, which basically meant the attraction was cheap beer. So we won't be going next year, but that didn't stop us from having fun this year. We watched the warriors show off their skills: 





And a few kids whose parents were willing to shell out three extra dollars for their kids to toss a fish: 




But the best part was near the end: We were watching the weapon throwing competitions and Drek was getting frustrated with the spear throwing competitors  Each one got six tries, and four people in a row missed every single time. I couldn't blame them; keeping a spear steady with one had didn't look very easy, but Drek was sure he could do better. So we paid the money and Drek was handed six spears:


He made all six shots. It was amazing. I had no idea I was married to such a spear throwing champion. Wild Boars, beware. 


Friday, September 28, 2012

They All Look the Same

When we were looking for a home to buy we got similar advice from all the locals, but it wasn't the advice I expected. It mostly consisted of: "Wherever it is, make sure it's not on the same road as an elementary school. You won't be able to get within a mile of your home twice a day." and "Just make sure you are far away from any elementary school. Drop off times are bad, but pick-up times are a nightmare. You don't want to live anywhere near that." I did get a few "Avoid houses near elementary schools. Something about picking up kids from school turns parents into monsters. Seriously, avoid." Usually this advice was followed by a few personal horror story experiences. Some about living next to an elementary school, others just about picking their kids up from school.

Yesterday the woman I visit teach called and said she was stuck in a job interview and would I please pick up her son from elementary school? How could I say no?  I was apprehensive, not only did the stories scare me, but I was also nervous because I've only met her son a few times. I knew he was short, had black hair and tan skin, but I wasn't confident I could pick him out of a crowd.

Still, I packed Ash in the car and drove to the local elementary school. Once I got close, I balked. There were cars EVERYWHERE. The traffic was moving at a snails pace. And that was two blocks away form the school. Once I actually got into the parking lot, that's when I panicked. People were parked haphazardly all over the place; up on cubs, in red zones, behind other parked cars... After three narrow misses and what seemed like hours, I finally emerged from the parking lot. I parked the car in the nearest spot I could find, which happened to be next to a red curb. Looking up and down the red curb I saw a dozen other parked cars, so I figured I could risk it. I got Ash out, and we walked back to the school. We made it to the gate just as the school bell rang and all the kids came running out.

My heart sank. ALL the kids were short with black hair and tan skin. I could rule out a few kids, mostly because they were female, but all the boys looked like they might be the kid I was looking for. I looked around, discouraged. Finally, I saw the teacher the mom had described. I walked over to her. She was surrounded by a bunch of children. A few of them might be him. I called his name, hoping one of them would turn. None of them did. But the teacher looked up, and I explained I was there to pick him up. She gave me a weird look, then pointed to the kid right in front of me. He turned and looked at me and I looked at him: Sure. That could be him.

So I took him back to the car (relieved to find it still there with no ticket), strapped him in, and fought traffic for the next ten minutes, trying to travel the three blocks to his house. When we finally got there, his mom was waiting for us. The boy jumped out and hugged her, so I assume it was the right kid.

So, success! And wow, I am glad we don't live on the same street as an elementary school...

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

There's a Box of Twinkies in that Grocery Store. Not Just Any Box of Twinkies, the Last Box of Twinkies that Anyone Will Enjoy in the Whole Universe. Believe It or Not, Twinkies Have an Expiration Date. Some Day Very Soon, Life's Little Twinkie Gauge is Gonna Go... Empty.

Several months ago Rissy announced she would be coming to visit Sunland around Halloween. Of course, we started thinking of doing a Halloween Saboteur here in Sunland, then one thing lead to another and suddenly we had a great idea for ZOMBIE SABOTEUR. 

Enthusiasim was less-than-stellar with my grown-up-friends here in Sunland who have children, and suddenly Drek and I planned a trip to Hometown (for other reasons) and the enthusiasm among Rissy's grown-up-friends without children was quite steller. So we did it there. 

It was awesome. Not our most flawless game, not as seamless as ULTIMATE SABOTEUR, not as scary as the last Halloween Saboteur, but still awesome. 

Details: 
Players are called “survivors”. The point is to survive until the end. All Survivors wear a pedometer on their waist. During every game, survivors are at risk to turn into zombies. Once contaminated, the pedometer is activated. Once the pedometer reaches two-thousand, that survivor becomes a zombie and joins the zombie team. If the contaminated survivor takes “meds” before the pedometer reaches two-thousand , the pedometer is turned off and that player remains a survivor. At the end of the game all survivors win. Only one zombie has a chance of winning.

The players showed up, ready to start. Most of them had done our Saboteur games in the past, but there were a few newbies. We chatted while waiting for everyone to show up. O called to let us know she would be very late, and it was decided that if she didn't show up before a certain time, she would start as a zombie.

Finally, we were ready for the first game:
Game Each Survivor is assigned a number on a ten-sided die. They wear that number on their front for this game. As a group, Survivors are asked trivia questions about survival (i.e. A 27 year old male has been hiking out in 80 degree weather all day. He complains of nausea and dizziness. His skin is hot and dry, he can't walk without staggering around and he no longer responds to questions. What is the diagnosis? A) Dehydration B) Heat Stroke C) He's turning into a Zombie) For every correct answer, Survivors avoid zombie contamination. For every wrong answer, the die is rolled. The corresponding survivor is now “contaminated.” Survivors won’t have access to meds until next game, so the more survivors contaminated, the more likely it is that all of them will not get meds in time. If a survivor is contaminated more than once, his pedometer threshold is halved.

Rissy and I had secretly worked out that we needed half the players to be contaminated at the end of this game in order for the game to run smoothly and the teams to be fair. To control that, we came up with twenty-five questions, and agreed we would stop asking questions whenever the half the players were contaminated. If we asked all twenty-five question and half were still not contaminated, well, the survivors deserved to move on as some of the questions were pretty hard.

Too hard, as it turns out. We only asked about seven questions. One survivor had his number rolled three times in a row, making his pedometer threshold five-hundred, that was actually really funny.

O showed up right as the game ended, and she became our first zombie! She was told this:
TOP SECRET Zombie information:
Congratulations! You are now a zombie! Please trade in your pedometer for a chain to tie for feet together. This will help you to walk with the famous “zombie shuffle”. If you break your chain, you must come back to zombie base to get a new one, and you will lose a link. Make sure you have your bag of red paint. If you get close enough to a survivor (you call them entrees) try to get the red paint onto them in the form of a hand print, they are contaminated. You must then leave that particular entree alone for a minimum of five minutes. After 5 minutes, feel free to contaminate them again.
How to win: Just because you can’t run very fast and crave brains doesn’t mean you aren’t clever! You can still win the game by becoming the fastest, smartest zombie. You do this by earning more links in your chain. You can do this by: #1 Contaminating an entree and #2 Spawn a zombie (this is done by having an entree you contaminated become a zombie. In the event that the entree was contaminated more than once, you need to be the initial contaminate) There will be additional ways to earn links throughout the game. Good luck!

With one zombie, one almost-zombie, and three survivors contaminated, we were off to game number two:
Survivors go out scavenging for food, clues, meds, and ammo, but the Zombie horde is approaching! Survivors must find all the supplies they can while keeping the zombies at bay! During this game, the survivors who were contaminated in Game 1 will need meds so it is crucial that meds are found and administered! Survivors are given clues about the location of supplies. Survivors can split up to cover more ground, or stay together for safety Survivors may also use cell phones to relay information faster. Survivors are given a laptop. On the laptop is a countdown timer, counting down the time to the zombie attack. The game ends when the timer hits zero.
 Supplies: Food = actual dinner items: Spam, Twinkies, Energy Bars, Can of Green Beans...
Ammo = codes used to enter into countdown timer, if a correct code is entered, more time is added to the countdown clock. If an incorrect code is added, time is subtracted.
Meds = essential to stop contaminated survivors from turning into zombies. Must take within a certain amount of time.
The clue to the location of these items is on an iphone that has survived the zombie Apocalypse (we used Drek's old cracked iphone). There are several pictures. one item is hidden in each of the pictures. Survivors will need to find the real-life location of the places pictured to find the items.

It seemed to me the survivors were still learning how to work together. They scattered, and though they found several ammo items, only two made it back to the laptop to enter in the codes. The survivors did have enough time to find the can of Spam, and a can of green beans, but not a single med was found in the short time they had to work with. This proved fatal to the player who only had a threshold of five-hundred. He was turned into a zombie. One survivor did find a geo-cache, and that was cool, but had no effect on the game. A few more survivors were getting dangerously close to their thresholds. Meds needed to be found quickly! It was time for game three!

After the zombie outbreak scientists desperately searched for a cure. Miraculously, they found one that could easily be mass produced. The meds just finished the production stage when the entire economy and commercial infrastructure collapsed. The world was in chaos: due to riots, lootings, panic, war profiteering and, of course, zombies, it became impossible make, buy, or ship anything. If someone was lucky enough to get their hands on a container of med they would carry it around with them at all times in case they were contaminated. However, other survivors were so desperate for meds for themselves or their loved ones that they began to kill anyone suspected of carrying meds. That lead to people taking great efforts to hide the meds they were carrying, but in some cases, it still wasn’t enough to save their lives. That was before people stopped burying bodies. In fact, that was right around the time they started special “possible zombie graveyard” where they buried dead before they knew they were contaminated or not. You have access to one of those “possible zombie graveyards” and you have access to information that tells you certain people were carrying meds when they died. If you can find the grave and dig it up, you might be able to save some of your contaminated friends. The catch? If you dig up a wrong grave more people could become contaminated. And, of course, any time spent trying to collect meds is time the zombies use to try and eat you. So decide now: Will you go to the graveyard to try and dig up some more meds?

It was supposed to be optional, but after Rissy and I set up the game, we decided it was not optional. They HAD to play this game. It just looked so cool!






Survivors split into three teams teams: Say no evil, hear no evil and see no evil. They can decide how many on each team. See no evil move to the graveyard and are given shovels. Say no evil are each given 6 movies in which someone has died. They then play a game of charades, trying to get the hear no evil to say the movie title. One they do, Hear no evil radio’s / calls the see no evil and tells them the movie title. The see no evil work together to search the graveyard for the actor’s headstone of the character that dies in that movie. They must dig up the grave. If they are correct, they find a med. If they are incorrect, the survivor opening the grave is contaminated. Zombies can chase the see no evils and turn them into zombies.

To prep for this game, we had sent the players sureys to fill out weeks before the game. On the survey each player had to name their three favorite movies. I used those movies for this game in hopes that the players would now the actors in their favorite movies. Some did, some didn't. If I did this game again, I would skip the actors and stick with the characters.  Even so, This game was so fun to watch. So much fun.

The two players doing charades did an awesome job. They worked together so well, and the two guessers had almost no problems guessing the movie titles. Almost no problems, except that they had to keep running from the two zombies who were constantly chasing them. Charades on the move is not an easy game to play. At one point, the actors mimicked a jedi-duel, and the gussors yelled Star Wars! New Hope! The actors desperetly tried to silently tell them that no, it was Return of the Jedi, but the guessors were too busy trying to relay that information back to the survivors in the graveyard. And also they were being chased by zombies. The two actors in the graveyard from Star Wars were Frank Oz (Yoda) and Alec Guinness (Obi-Wan). The survivor knew Obi-Wan died in A New Hope, and quickly dug up the grave before the guessers realized their mistake. By the time they corrected it, it was too late. Since that survivor had already been contaminated, he was instantly a zombie!

One other survivor was contaminated during the game, but meds were found! And another survivor was cured. One other survivor reacher their threshold and was turned into a zombie. This was getting serois! So it was time for a break.

Dinner! The survivors had their scavenged food (they sure wished they had found the Twinkies!) and C downed the entire can of Spam by himself. The zombies had a dinner of spaghetti in the shape of a brain. They chose to eat it zombie style.







Zombies secretly pick one survivor to be their hostage. During dinner, the other survivors are distracted and the zombies blindfold the hostage and takes them to a pre-chosen location. The hostage is then given a cell phone and calls the other survivors. The phone call may only last thirty seconds. The hostage must describe where he is. Survivors have a time limit to find the hostage. If they find the hostage within the time limit, the hostage remains a survivor. If not, the hostage is automatically a zombie. No meds will change this. Zombies may either stay with the hostage, or go out in search of survivors to contaminate. The hostage finds that he is locked in a lab where the meds were made. The hostage can attempt to make one dose of meds. If successful, they can use it. If unsuccessful, the hostage will be contaminated. (In the event that the hostage is unsuccessful, and the survivors do not reach the hostage in time, the survivors will arrive to find the hostage already a zombie and what looks like a dose of meds. They can chose to use it (infecting the survivor it is given to) or ignore it (nothing happens)).

The survivors rocked this game. K was chosen as the hostage, and she knew right where she was when the blindfold was removed. She relayed the information to her fellow survivors, who knew right where to find her. Instead of going straight there, R went back in search for Meds from the second game. She found some, and the contaminated survivor was cured. The other survivors used R as a decoy, and rescued the hostage with two minutes to spare. R was a fantastic decoy, and also very good at avoiding the zombies. She avoided contamination. K, the hostage, also did a great job. She decoded the notebook (the notebook was awesome. I wish I had pictures) and made a med, which she kept for herself in fear she might be contaminated in the future.

Survivors find kidnapped survivor, hooray! If they found them in time, the hostage is still a survivor. If not, that survivor is now a zombie (meds will not change this). Regardless, the whole thing is a trap! Zombies ambush players and lock them up (they DO NOT contaminate them, because the zombies don’t want to make more zombies, they want fresh brains). Survivors must work together to unlock each other. Zombies, at the same time, must compete against each other to earn a fresh brain.
Zombie Game:
 Zombies align themselves into factions with two-to-three zombies each. Each faction has two minutes to privately debate amongst themselves. They must all decide to chose one leader from their faction. They must all agree. At the end of the two minutes, all factions who could not agree are eliminated from that round and can meld back into one big zombie group. If the faction could decide, that leader is put with all the other leaders, and the other two zombies can meld back into the group. The leaders create their own faction and the timer is set again. The leader faction has two minutes to decide on their leader. Everyone must agree. At the end of two minutes, if they cannot agree, they meld back into the group. If they agree, that one zombie may go and claim a still-chained entree to feast upon. That entree becomes a zombie (not because it makes sense, but because it would be sad if they were out of the game.) The zombie who won can count it as a completed #2 task and gets another link in their chain. The game is restarted. Game continues until time runs out or all entrees are unchained.
Survivor game:
Each survivor has one hand locked to a chain-link fence with a ziptie and a combination lock. Next to each survivor is a box locked with either a combination lock or a lock with a missing key. In the boxes are the keys to other boxes or a clue with a combination on it. Survivors start off with two clues. If a survivor frees themselves, they can help the other survivors but cannot be eaten by a zombie. When the time runs out, all survivors still chained are contaminated.

The clues looked like this:
#1
Ryan was born on the __ of the month times the first digit of Shana was born on the ___       of the month

Roz and Cav were married on the ___ of the month plus Shana and Curt’s  wedding month plus the last digit of Rachel was born on the ___ of the month.
Nick was born on the ___of the month minus Ryan’s favorite number plus the first digit of Kim was born on the ___ of the month

Yeah, it was a hard game. The zombies worked together flawlessly, making it extra-hard on the survivors. The survivors figured out the codes, unlocked boxes, found keys and figured out more clues, but just not fast enough! Only one survivor was able to unlock themselves in time, though two others were SECONDS away from freeing themsleves when the zombies ate them. At the end of the game, only two survivors were left, and one of them was contaminated. Lucky for her, the contaminated survivor was K, and she had med on her! She took and was cured!

THE FINAL INTENSE SURVIVORS VS ZOMBIES GAME
The survivors have met a wandering doctor who has discovered a cure to the zombie virus that works on contact. Unfortunately, the zombies have evolved into spitters and runners, and can now infect from longer distances. Several ropes are twirled/knotted together so that you can’t tell which rope ends up where (the rope will also be partially obscured to prevent cheating). Everyone (players and zombies) takes an end. When the game starts, everyone tried to detangle themselves and discover to whom they are tied:
 Zombie to a zombie- Hooray! Zombies are safe! Work as a team - two red
Survivor to survivor- Hooray! Survivors are safe! Work as a team - two blue
Survivor to zombie- Oh no! You are not a team! Compete against each other! Survivor gets one blue, zombie gets one red.
Everyone is given either one or two a plastic balls dipped in paint. If you are a zombie and you hit a player with a red ball, they are now a zombie and make their way over to the zombie “maturing” ground. After reaching that area, they are a zombie and act as such, getting a ball dipped in red paint.  If a zombie is hit with a blue balloon, they must go to the “medical center” and become human. If they are then hit with the opposing color (so if a player has both red and blue on their shirt), they die (the toxin and the medicine don’t mix well) and stay dead.

The game was a giant paint fight with some tree-climbing, and K and S hiding in the bathroom to avoid getting paint on their clothes. They called a truce with Zombie C, and that made S and K the winners of the game.  Congratulations! They were reward with zombie truffles; chocolates in the shape of brains, with marshmallow or raspberry filling that Rissy and I had made the night before.







Ah, good game. It was so much fun to plan and so much more fun to watch. I'm already planning the next Saboteur game, to be played the next time I visit Homeland...

Monday, September 24, 2012

Yeah, We Should Start Dealing in Those Black Market Beagles

There is a world shortage of purple balloons.

There is also a growing shortage of  purple crepe paper. This, combined with the shortage of purple balloons, make decoration difficult.

I'm not sure if you've noticed, but it's reaching the crisis level. There simply aren't any purple balloons to be found. I'm sure the ones that are left can only be bought on the black market. Which isn't the best market for purple balloons, because the people in need of purple balloons are the mothers of little two-turning-three-year-old girls whose favorite color is purple (the daughters, not the mom) and in order to have a proper birthday celebration, need purple balloons. And these mothers rarely have any knowledge of black market affairs.

I admit, I am such a person. Last week I went to four different stores on my quest. Two of those stores were Super Wal-Marts in two different states. Having no idea where to find a black market, I had to resort to paying extra for three star-shaped purple Mylar balloons. Purple ribbon was the substitute for purple crepe paper. The decorations were unconventional and nothing like what I pictured,. Thankfully, my two-turning-three year old doesn't seemed to have developed a taste for critiquing party decorations. Or maybe she knew of the purple balloon crisis and was just too polite to mention anything.

In any case, if you happen across purple balloons, you might want to buy them and save them in your food storage. In a few years, those things will be worth their weight in gold.


Saturday, September 22, 2012

Fung-Shui Up the Ying Yang

Phew! What a week!

Last week we visited Homeland. Sunday we drove home. I checked my email that same day and found an email written the night before saying the women I visit teach was thrown from a car and in the hospital. She wasn't in a car accident; Thrown from a car, as in, by another human being.

It's times like that when you think to yourself: Man! What do I ever complain about!?

So this week was dealing with that, catching up on the massive amount of work I missed (I'm all caught up! Hooray!), and doing some major projects around the house.

The front room was painted. After debating for several months, I finally picked colors. I have three accent walls and they look delicious! That might be because they were painted a chocolate milk brown and I get hungry every time I look at them, which is frequently, because they look so much better!

Then the kitchen cupboards were cleaned and re-stained. I had nothing to do with that project, my mother-in-law did it all. I tried to help but she said it was her project, so I got to take a nap while she improved my kitchen. I love my mother-in-law.

I dug up my garden, which was a disappointing this year, added new soil, tilled it, laid out new walkways and planted it with new seeds. This will be my first attempt at a winter garden and I am very hopeful.

We have a few more house projects planned, but it's already 11pm on Saturday, so they'll just have to wait till next week. Or maybe two, I might need a rest from so much improvement.

Friday, September 14, 2012

Look At Me Still Talking When There's Science To Do

After three attempts I finally got it right! 

Once again it is my dad's birthday and once again I attempted to make his favorite cake, a Tunnel of Fudge cake. 

This year we were a little pressed for time (I didn't remember the cake needed so long to cool!) but other than that there were no problems. 

This year I made sure to include the flour (the problem the first year) and double checked all ingredients and amounts. I oiled and floured the pan TO DEATH, since the problem last year was that the cake wouldn't come out of the pan. 

The cake was then cooked, cooled and then came the moment of truth. I held my breath and turned the pan over; Out fell a perfect, PERFECT Tunnel of Fudge cake:

 We lit the candles:


and cut into it: 


A perfect tunnel of fudge. It was so tasty! 

So, not that I've made a perfect Tunnel of Fudge cake, my next goal is to make a healthier perfect Tunnel of Fudge cake (there is a reason I only attempt to make this cake once a year).  I'll let you know how it goes. 

Friday, September 07, 2012

One Can Begin to Reshape the Landscape With a Single Flower


As promised: What Drek Did to the Front Walk!

I don't have before pictures, because Drek started the project so quickly I didn't have time to grab my camera. But picture the place between the sidewalk and the house filled with little ugly gray pebbles, lots of dead weeds, a few live weeds, and one very ugly bush. I'm not sure what kind of flora it was, it was just ugly. And there was only one, and it wasn't even in the middle. 

That bush it what started the project. Drek went and chopped it down. He then started scooping out the dirt/weeds/pebbles and discovered the area had sprinklers. He then stopped the project for almost two weeks to call a sprinkler repair guy to come fix the sprinklers of our entire front yard. As you can tell from the pictures, we don't have a lawn, but Drek reasoned that he wasn't going to spend the time making the front walkway look nice, and then when we did get a lawn have to dig it all up again to fix the sprinklers to keep the lawn alive. No time like the present to tackle a giant project! 

They guy came, gave the estimate, and a week later came out and fixed the sprinklers. The guy was amazing. Our sprinklers now work beautifully. One day we will give them a lawn to water. One day. 

But anyway, I told Drek he could now get back to the front walk project, but he said he didn't want to until I got plants. The next day while Ash and I were out and about I impulsively stopped by a store and bought $200 worth of plants, dirt, planter boxes and flowers. I couldn't help it! It was Arabian Jasmine! Do you have any idea how good that plant smells?! One sniff and all my reason vanished.

But it turned out to be a good thing, because Drek loved the small almost as much as I did. Early Labor Day morning he and his sister were out there digging holes (which was quite amazing of his sister because she was  visiting for the weekend and on vacation). Drek made another trip to the store to get mulch, trellises, and the glue to hold the red brick border together and finished up the project that night:




Doesn't it look amazing?! Well, you would think so if you had seen a before picture. This is a hundred and ten percent improvement. 



Wednesday, September 05, 2012

I Caused Pain and Mayhem, Certainly. But I Put in a Full Day's Work Doing It, and I Got Compensated Appropriately. Welcome to Today's Episode of 'Go Money Go!' I Hear it Daily

I got my first paycheck today! I guess before I announce that I should announce this: I got a job!

It's a work-from-home job, switching my title from a Stay at Home Mom to a Work from Home Mom. I can do the work while Ash is playing by herself (hah!) during the day or at midnight when she is fast asleep. A few times she's crawled up on my lap and helped me type, although that usually doesn't last long because I get too overloaded from all the "helping".

 I'm still in that phase where you are new to everything and aren't good at anything and have to look at the instructions or ask questions every five minutes, but I am improving. And I love my boss. Overall it's going really well.  I can do it on my own time (or more accurately; my daughter's time) and I don't feel it's taking away any time from being a mom. I'm getting that self validation that you get from a job that is so hard to get when you're a mom. And also, a paycheck. So all around it seems to be a good thing.

Monday, September 03, 2012

It's a Loop... like the Mummy Hand! I'm doomed to replace these windows for all eternity. You Know, Maybe We Should Just Board These Things Up Until Things are Less Hellmouthy

Once again it's time to play Let's Make Our House Look Less Abandoned! 

Before: 


During:


After:

Post-After: 

Mostly before. I forgot to take a picture before I started taping.

After:

Post-After:


During: 

After:

 Post-after:

 Next time: See what Drek did to the front walk!

Saturday, August 25, 2012

I Couldn't Help Myself. You Just Look So Cute Swingin' That Pickaxe... Chain Gang Looks Good on You, Freckles.

A few weeks ago I had my haircut. My wonderful Sister-in-law is very good at cutting my hair and has done in several times. This time I wanted it cut a little more than I usually do, just to make it even with the bangs I've been growing out for a few years. She cut it with her amazing skills, then asked if she could try something new; instead of just the usual trim, adding a few layers. I said yes. In the end the layers didn't work out, so she had to cut my hair even shorter to cut out the layers. And then a little more to make it even. And then a little more. The result: I no longer have long hair. My hair is now short. I haven't had my hair this short since I was seventeen. Still, people tell me it looks cute and it is a whole lot easier to maintain, so no complaints. It's just hair and will eventually grow back out to my comfort length.

I'm blogging about this now because of this amusing conversation I had with my Sister-in-law this last week. I hadn't seen her since she cut my hair.

Sister-in-law: Oh! You chopped off your hair!!

Me: Um... You chopped off my hair.

Sister-in-law: You haven't cut it since then?

Me: Nope

Sister-in-law: Did I cut it that short?

Me: Yes.

Sister-in-law: Oh. (pause) It looks cute!

Which made me realize that is the only adjective people use to describe my new look; cute. It makes one wonder...

Sunday, August 12, 2012

An Armed Guard, Here. A Little Rent-a-Cop with a Nine Millimeter on His Hip

I do not like dealing with security guards that stand outside of smaller airports and enforce the "no waiting!" policy of the loading/unloading zone. I understand the "no waiting" policy. I don't understand ego maniac security guards who treat the curb like Fort Knox. My first bad experience was at a teeny tiny airport. It is so tiny, the arrival gate is about ten feet from the closely-guarded "no waiting!" curb. I waited in the short term parking until the plane landed, then maneuvered the car next to the curb. I was too quick. I could not  see Drek coming off the tiny plane, and the security guard knew it. He came up and angrily tapped on my window. "Can't you read the sign? No waiting! Get out of here! This is a small airport! Make room for people who don't have to wait!" Which, was actually funny, because I was the only car in the entire airport. There was no one to make room for. 

The next time was at a much busier airport. The guard was so much meaner, and it was a much more terrifying situation, in which I ended up circling the airport seven times, because the people I was trying to pick up were not waiting on the curb, but on the bench back away form the curb, and I could see them, but they couldn't see me, and every time I tried to get their attention the guard (who had singled me out, and looked for my car) would yell and shout and chase me off. Terrifying. 

But sometimes those guards are not crazy ego maniacs. Sometimes they are just security guards, trying to make sure everything runs smoothly. When Drek left on his adventure, he drove us down to the airport, parked on the curb, and then unpacked all his stuff from the car. I got out, we hugged and said good-bye, and then he went into the airport. I got in the driver's seat, turned on my GPS, put on my seat belt and ...realized Drek had taken my keys with him. Oh no! 

I jumped out if the car and ran to the nearest security guard, who was laughing and chatting with another security guard. 
"Excuse me, I have a small problem. I just dropped my husband off, but he took my keys with him. I need them back, but I can't move the car without the keys..." I pointed to my car. 
He smiled, nodded, and said "Hurry. We'll keep and eye on your car." 
I ran inside, found Drek right away, stole another kiss as well as my keys and headed back to my car, thanking the security guard on my way out. 

This morning I packed Ash in the drove to the airport. Last night I had a few nightmare about terrible security guards becoming drunk with power and turning into tyrannical monsters, reigning over their curb with blood and bullets, and decided not to risk it. I paid for parking and went inside the airport to wait at the bottom of the escalator for Drek.

I spotted Drek before he stepped on the escalator, but Drek was looking past us, out the windows and onto the street, looking for our car. Once he got to the bottom we were two feet in front of him. He glanced right at us and didn't see us. He actually had to step around Ash and still didn't realize we were there until I called his name. By that time I was laughing too hard to give him the proper welcome I had envisioned for the last nine days. 

In any case, welcome home, Drek! We are so glad you are back!

Friday, August 10, 2012

For, Behold, You Should Not Have Feared Man More Than God

On Sunday I taught my Sunday School class (the twelve turning thirteen and thirteen turning fourteen year-olds) a lesson on Peer Pressure. After looking through the manual (stories about just say no! Let's role play!) I was board.  I decided my kids would be too.

I wrote my own lesson to achieve the same purpose. This was it: 

My kids have a problem with getting to class on time. They wander in five, ten, and fifteen minutes after class is officially supposed to start. A few weeks ago, three girls wandered in two minutes before the class was supposed to end. It's a problem. I've started doing little things to change that: give the first ones treats, start the lesson early... but for this class I simply waited until there were ten of them and then said this: 

"Because you are the first ones here, we are going to play a little game on the rest of the kids. Jay was here first so he is the leader. Every time I tap the chalkboard twice, Jay will pick a different position to sit in; maybe legs crossed, maybe leaning back in the chair...Whatever it is, copy it. Stay in that position until the next time I tap on the chalkboard and Jay changes his position. Now, try to get the other kids to conform to the same position. You can whisper to cross their legs or signal to them to copy you, but you cannot tell them about Jay, the tapping, or what you doing. If they directly ask, don't answer." 

It was great. Twelve more kids came in and we started. A few weeks ago I had ask them to write down questions and I devoted this class to answering them. Everytime I started on a new question I would tap the chalkboard twice. Jay started out subtle (chin on hand, leaning back) and finally ended by sitting on the floor. It was such an obvious thing, that as soon as the other kids moved to the floor, two of the "unknowing" kids moved too, almost instantly. Most of them hesitated or laughed or questioned before moving down, and one kid looked around, asked what was going on, shrugged, and announced that he was a rebel. He then laughed and sat on the floor. I was timing it. It took 31.4 seconds for the twelve kids to give into peer pressure and conform to the other ten kids without any explanation. 

I then asked each one of them why they had sat on the floor, and not one could tell me. They all shrugged and said and said something like "Because everyone was on the floor". Or "because I thought we were supposed to." One kid got creative and said he thought it was time to pray. 

I then told them the lesson was on peer pressure and explained the experiment. We then read and discussed three amazing scriptures:


And that was the lesson. 

Monday, August 06, 2012

Count to Five

Drek is off an an adventure and left me Ash and I at home. Normally, this is not a problem. Ash and I have fun with just us girls, but this time...not so much.

Saturday I took Ash to a birthday party at the park. Two hours into it I realized I had left the stove on. I rushed home, turned down the street (no flames! Good sign!) jumped out of the car, did a ninja roll and...smelled smoke before I had even opened the door. I dashed inside, ran to the stove and turned it off, grabbed the blackened pot and took it out back.  Nothing burned down, but the house smells terrible. It brings back memories. Memories leaving a kettle on the stove at the Krayola box and going out to a three hour long play, coming back and finding the kettle melted to the stove and the house smelling like smoke. Memories of leaving the stove on in our first apartment after we were married and trying to get the smoke smell out for days with efforts that included mopping the ceiling.  Hey, maybe I should stop leaving the stove on.

Saturday night I had a night terror. I haven't had one of those in years. It was awful. And I couldn't shake the terror felling for the rest of the night. I was terrified that someone was trying to break in. Terrified. I spent most of the night holding Ash with one hand (she slept through the whole thing) and clutching my car alarm in the other; you know, because if someone broke in I could press the button and my car alarm would sound and either scare the intruder away or alert the neighbors. Anyway, it was a truly awful night. I hope never to repeat it.

So, anyone want to have a sleepover at my house? Maybe for the next week?

Friday, July 27, 2012

For my birthday, my wonderful sister-in-law gave me a humming bird feeder. I hung it up on the clothes line pole right outside the kitchen window so I could see all the hummingbirds.

And then a month went by, and another, and another. I refilled the mixture, thinking I had done it wrong, but still no hummingbirds.

A few weeks ago Drek took down the old clothes line and made me a new one; with metal posts stuck into cement and an actual rope. My clothesline is beautiful!  But in the process he broke the hummingbird feeder. Which was okay; we hadn't seen a single hummingbird anyway.

Yesterday I looked out the kitchen window and was surprised to see not one, but THREE hummingbirds, all in a row, sitting on my clothesline. One of them hovered over the line for a minute before fluttering off, and then the other two followed.

Crazy.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Bubbles, Bubbles Everywhere, But Not a Drop to Drink - Yet

I got a free sample of soap in the mail; one of those new gel pack things. Drek put it in the dishwasher and turned it on right before we retired for the night to a game of scrabble. In the middle of the game, I needed a drink, so I went in the kitchen and turned on the light. Hey! Snow! All over our kitchen floor! Oh wait, no. Bubbles. From the dishwasher.

I called Drek to come build bubblemen with me or maybe build a bubblefort and throw bubbleballs, but instead he turned off the dishwasher, pulled the rest of the gel pack out and cleaned up the suds. While he did that, I read the coupon that came with the sample and learned that it was actually laundry detergent, not dish washing soup. They really should make that more clear...

Just in case you were wondering; laundry detergent bubbles work great to clean the floor, but are very bad at cleaning dishes. And now you know.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

You Mean You Never Actually Flew the Plane? Good Heavens, No! I'm a Chicken! The Royal Air Force Doesn't Let Chickens Behind the Controls of a Complex Aircraft

Just after our chickens were killed by a coyote, our backyard neighbors bought seventy-two baby chicks.  Our neighbors are a young married couple, both graduated from college, both working full-time jobs. They decided raising chickens and selling eggs would be a good additional income.

But after a few days, it was apparent the women didn't really think of the chicks as a second job; she was out there talking to them, cuddling them, and singing to them for several hours a days. As the chicks grew, she still spent hours with them. She began scolding them when they fought and even taught them to jump on her shoulder and ride around like a parrot.

The couple told us they would sell us four of the chicks as soon as they were old enough to lay eggs. Drek and I were excited to replace our older, lazy, non-egg-chickens with young chickens who might lay us some eggs, but at the same time we both thought "Will she be able to give up her babies?"

Because that's what she calls them; her babies. She calls herself their mama. She hand-feeds treats, has named each one and can even recognize them individually by the sound they make. Did I mention she cuddles them? She is always cuddling them.

So, the time has come. The chickens have just barely started to lay eggs. We worked out the payment, and decided on a date. The night before, she texted me, asking if she could move the date back because "I needs more time to mentally prepare the chickens for the big move." She also said she needed to bring them over to our house right before sundown, so she could get them ready for bed and sing them to sleep. She also mentioned that if they look up at with big eyes, it's because they want to be cuddled.

Now, I value the life of a chicken. I want the chickens to work hard and lay eggs for me, but I don't want to kill and eat the chickens, nor do I want them to be unhappy. We went out of way with our last chickens to make sure they had comfy nests and lots of treats and opened up the whole yard to them so they could free-range.

But I am not going to cuddle a chicken. I do not want a chicken jumping up on my shoulder for any reason. I am not going to sing bedtimes songs to the chickens and put them to bed. I'm just not.

We are friends with this couple. I'm afraid if I take the chickens and don't cuddle them, she will be offended. I'm even more afraid one of the chickens will die, and she will never forgive me.

Do I really want to own chickens? Or do I just want a steady stream of  inexpensive, cage-free cruelty-free, free-range happy-chicken eggs? I thought the best way to guarantee that was to own my own chickens, but she definitively takes better care or those chickens than I ever could. If I'm getting my eggs from happy chickens, does it matter that the coup is three feet to the left of the fence instead of three feet to the right? 

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Sammy Jankis Wrote Himself Endless Notes. But He'd Get Mixed Up. I've Got a More Graceful Solution to the Memory Problem. I'm Disciplined and Organized. I Use Habit and Routine to Make My Life Possible. Sammy Had No Drive. No Reason to Make it Work

When I made the decision to be a stay-at-home mom, I knew it would be hard.* If I'm not meeting deadlines or sales quotas, or striving for a raise, then there is very little pressure and since I work best under pressure, I now find myself working...less than my best.

Last week at a Relief Society activity we had a guest speaker come talk to us about meal planning and couponing. I was not impressed by her couponing, nor by her meal planning, but she did say something that struck me. She had four children, did the accounting, ordering and filing for her husband's business  and worked outside the home as a lawyer. All her meals were home-cooked (either crockpot or made ahead freezer meals). They always ate dinner as a family and played family games after dinner. Now that her children are grown, she can say that they all turned out successful (A lawyer, a CEO, a doctor and...I can't remember the last one). She said that the only way she could do all that was to be organized. "Organization is the key to success!" is what struck me. She said she was driven to be so organized because her dad gave her a hard time about working outside of the home, and he drilled into her that she "better make it worth it." So she did.

It was the motivation I needed. Why isn't my house clean? Why do we only have oatmeal for breakfast? Why doesn't our family play more games? Why isn't my blog updated? Why is my first novel still unedited, my second novel still only half written, and my third, forth, fifth and sixth novels still only in my head?  Because I'm not organized!  I can do so much more if only I organize!

I decided that even though I'm not a fan of freezer dinners (I like to cook. I like making dinner) I could get behind the idea of freezer breakfasts!I then created a weekly chore chart that dictates two areas a day I need to clean. At the end of the week, the house it clean! Of course, the exception is the kitchen. If I do not clean that area three times every day, it becomes eligible to be declared a hazardous zone. So the kitchen is always on my chore list.

Ash also had chores everyday. They correspond to the area I'm cleaning and are all age-appropriate chores. That way she is learning valuable skills at the same time.

When I'm done with my chores for the day, I'm done cleaning. I don't have to feel guilty about sitting down and writing. By the time Drek comes home I've cleaned and written, which means our free time can be spend playing games.

So far, I've had great success. I even feel like I have MORE energy, even though I'm doing more. My chart is much healthier motivation that a mad scramble to clean the house in the last few minutes before visitors show up at the door.


*What I didn't know was how much fun it is to be a stay-at-home mom and how much I would love it.

Monday, July 09, 2012

Ah! I See That You Have Found the Sacred Peach Tree of Heavenly Wisdom! Oh! Is That What This Is? I'm So Sorry! I Just Thought it Was a Regular Peach Tree

Dinner tonight consisted of yellow squash, green bell peppers, green onions, and tomatoes, all grown in our garden and picked an hour before the meal. For desert we walked out to our tree: 

and picked a few peaches. 

They are the most delicious peaches I have ever had! I think the fact that they are still warm from the sun is a big contributor. 

This peach tree is the second tree to give us a harvest. Our apple tree (planted last year, the same time as the peach tree) yielded two whole apples. We'll definitely get more peaches than that!  In a few more weeks I think we'll have a harvest of lemons and oranges as well. I don't think we'll get plums this year, but we might. I know the blood oranges, macadamia nuts, grapefruits and avocados will have to wait another year, but the trees themselves are doing great. The avocado was actually the first tree we planted (the blood orange and macadamia were the last) but I know they take the longest to produce fruit. That's okay, I can wait! 

Saturday, July 07, 2012

Drive Sports Cars, Date Movie Stars, Buy Things That are Not for Sale... Who Knows, Master Wayne? You Start Pretending to Have Fun, You Might Even Have a Little by Accident

Today Drek and I have been married for five whole years. We had a wonderful anniversary; we dropped off the baby and car seat, cleaned the car inside and out so we could drive in an "adult" car, and went down to the big city to spend the night at a bed and breakfast, eat out at a fancy restaurant, and stay up late watching the most romantic movies we could think of: Batman Begins and The Dark Knight. 

We've now known each other for six years and one month. In that time, I've picked up on a pattern: Drek isn't big into planning dates. As far as I can tell, he doesn't mind going on dates, or even paying for them, it's the planning them he doesn't like...or do. 

On our Anniversary, we usually give "us" a gift. This year, I decided to make our gift. This is what I came up with: 


The label says: 
Date Sticks In-A-Jar 
Red sticks: Expensive, 24 hour planning required 
Purple sticks: Free - $30, up to 1 hour planning 
Dark Cherry sticks: At home, up to 1 hour planning 


The easy part was painting the sticks (Ash helped. She loved this part):


The hard part was scouring the Internet for date ideas and cross referencing local attractions. Thus transferring the very unhelpful "go out to eat at a nice restaurant!" and "This restaurant serves the best vegetarian chili in the entire state. Four stars!" into "drive eighteen miles to Vegi Mama's Bistro located at 555 Sunland Road, Sunland. Order vegetarian chili at $7.95/meal. Total cost: $15.90 + tax and tip. Total time: an hour and a half.

Of course, not all of them are dinner dates. Most of them are fun, creative, and inexpensive. I would give examples, but Drek reads this blog and I don't want to give away any spoilers! 

In essence, I planned all the details of thirty seven dates. I typed out the details of the date on a strip of paper, then wrapped that paper around a color-coded Popsicle stick. Then, on the outside of the paper, I wrote the total cost, total time, and total distance: 

Because the Dark Cherry sticks are dates we can do at home, there isn't a distance on them, however, some of them requite a quick trip to the grocery store beforehand. On those ones I simply wrote "store" and the total cost to be spent at the store. Some of the home dates are free, don't require any traveling, and can take as long or as short as required, so those I simply left blank.

Then I took a peanut butter jar (It's actually super romantic, because when we were dating we loved LOST, and both loved the scene where Charlie gives Claire a "jar of peanut butter" and they eat it together. When Drek proposed, he proposed with a peanut butter jar. So this is a continuation of that) painted the lid, put the sticks in and taped on the label:


The result: Whenever we want to go on a date, Drek will decide how much time he has to plan, how much we can spend, and the time we have available, and picks out an accommodating stick (having no idea what the actual date is). The he unwraps the paper and reads the instructions for our date night. No planning on his part, we get to enjoy some pretty awesome date nights together, and we have the added bonus of the "oh, which stick will he pick? What mystery date awaits us?"

Happy Anniversary, love of my life.

Thursday, July 05, 2012

And should we win the day, the Fourth of July will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day the world declared in one voice: "We will not go quietly into the night!" We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence Day!

The Independence Day celebrations of my youth started early in the morning with a church pancake dinner, followed by either watching or being in, a parade, followed by games, festivals, movies, and barbecues until it was dark and we could set off fireworks (which was always wonderful) followed by camping out in a grassy area and waiting until eleven when the giant firework display lit up the whole sky and each burst seemed so close you thought it would land on you when it rained down out of the sky. That is how I thought the Fourth of July was celebrated everywhere.

Well, that's not how it's celebrated here in Sunland. Our church didn't have a breakfast, there was no parade, fireworks in any form are not sold here, and each city does its own, very small, firework display at nine, but traffic is so bad you'll be stuck in it until midnight.

So, for the first time last week and this week, I felt myself getting just a little bit homesick. Maybe from now on we'll just have to make a yearly pilgrimage to Hometown just for Independence Day. But this year that was not an option. So I came up with other plans: Ultimate Frisbee in the park!
I was worried that since we couldn't reserve the park, pavilion, or field, we wouldn't get tables and we would have to fight to play Frisbee. I arrived at the park at nine in the morning (an hour early) and discovered that a game of soccer had already taken up the entire field, and that another family had already claimed the pavilion. I snagged two tables in a grassy area and waited. An hour later, people actually started arriving, the soccer game was over and the other family that had claimed the pavilion asked if they could play Frisbee with us!

It went great! We had a lot of people there, both kids and adults, and the kids had a great time playing on the playground, digging in the sand (we brought a lot of sandtoys) and running around on the grass. Everyone brought food, so there was more than enough to eat. I made this:




 And Amy brought these:

So not only was there more than enough delicious food, some of it was even patriotic! And then, of course, we played Ultimate: 





See how nice and cool we all look? It was sixty seven all day. Mostly cloudy with a nice, cool breeze. Not exactly beach weather, but perfect Ultimate Frisbee weather! 

The party ended at two so everyone could go off and do their own activities, but to my delight, I was not the only one who decided the fireworks were just not worth keeping kids up late or driving anywhere for. After discovering that most of us didn't have plans, we quickly decided to have a game night! We were up until Midnight playing.

Maybe it wasn't the best Independence Day ever, but it was a wonderful Holiday. 

Sunday, July 01, 2012

I Get My Hair Cut Every Two Days. After All, Your Hair is Your Headsuit

I've dreaded this moment years. I knew it was coming, I could feel it. I tried to prevent it, but really, what could I do?

Ash has been going potty all by herself. She was in there for a little while, then came out and went into her room to play with her toys. A little while later I went into the bathroom and froze. There, on the tile, was a tiny curl. And another one, and another one.

Ash cut her own hair. Down to the scalp.

I had cut Drek's hair the night before and Ash had watched. I stupidly left the scissors out on the counter and when Ash went into the bathroom she must have thought her hair could use a trim.

Moan. Why do kids do this?! It wouldn't be so bad if Ash wasn't bald the first two years of her life and has only just barely began to actually grow hair!

I hope it grows back quickly. And she only got the front, not the sides, so she still has a few baby curls.

We had a stern talk about cutting your own hair. And then I hid all the scissors.