Recursively Speaking

This is How We Roll

2012-02-03T12:43:00.000-08:00

I have a standing lunch appointment with my girls. We're pretty tight.

In other news, our bathroom remodel is going well. Here is some of the creative tile-setting involved:

Getting back in shape after a c-section is no easy task. Things don't look quite like they used to, and my muscles are all stretched out from looking like this:

On a personal note, I am getting some excellent empathy training. My doc finally approved exercise two weeks ago. My first workout was last week and my abs are officially trashed. I can't even do a sit-up. C explained that my muscles are like stretched out rubber bands. I have never had a belly before, so it's a new experience for me. I am not dieting because my milk production is finally satisfactory, so given my choice of priorities, it will take a while before I am back to my former size.

I have managed to fit in eight Jillian workouts so far and recently added a light jog. I guess you could say that I get to have a real live Biggest Loser experience of my own! Needless to say, I will NOT be rocking a size 4 by my reunion in June (even if my some miracle I could lose the weight, my mega milk producers wouldn't allow for a top that size), but I WILL be the proud mama of two beautiful baby girls!

When to Cut Baby Fingernails?

2012-02-03T01:39:00.000-08:00

I pull out the fingernail clippers. I hold a tiny hand in mine. I put the clippers next to a single tiny nail, and then I set the clippers down again. Yes, it's true, I can't bring myself to cut their nails, and so I cover them with mitties so they won't scratch each other or themselves. It's such a shame to cover those long, pretty fingers, so I ask you: When do you cut baby's nails (because filing takes FOREVER)?

This question brought to you by our sponsor, The Daily Snuggle:

Drunk

2012-02-01T03:26:00.000-08:00

Motherhood is positively intoxicating. I used to believe that pregnancy and giving birth somehow defined a mother, or made it more real, but I now realize that this is not the case. Those are almost entirely separate events when it comes to the real experience of motherhood. I guess what I am saying is that however those babies or children wind up in your arms, there is this beautiful, magical day-to-day love affair that takes place. It happens each time eyes connect, or skin is brushed, or tiny ears respond to that familiar voice. It happens each time tiny lips try to imitate what your lips are doing, or tiny cries are met with loving arms. Motherhood is pure, concentrated heaven, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

C's Favorite Video

2012-01-17T18:26:00.000-08:00

For all of those women who like to measure themselves against a lie.

Just Say No...

2012-01-14T22:25:00.000-08:00

We received a photo package for our girls for Christmas. This involved the opportunity to have the girls photographed in our home, but we opted to go to the studio to have the girls photographed. When it comes to newborn twins (who are technically only two weeks old, when considering their original delivery date), long, drawn-out photo sessions are a very bad idea...very, very, bad. Needless to say, several hours from the beginning of our excursion, we returned home covered in pee and poop, tired, worn out, sore from not feeding the girls on time, and with two very wiped out little angels. As for the results of the photos, I am not sure we made off with many successful shots, but we shall see...

BOGO Baby!!!...???

2012-01-13T10:27:00.000-08:00

Someone, somewhere, came up with the idea that having twins is a BOGO (Buy One Get One) deal. In fact, your pregnancy is BOGO, raising the babies is BOGO, and if you have them first, you will be completely immune to the fact that you are trying to care for two babies simultaneously. I think it goes something like this, "You won't know any different!"

Alas, while I will be the last person to complain about the rich blessing of having these amazing, precious twins, I must put to rest these ludicrous ideas. Indeed, when you change one diaper, you don't magically forget that you have another baby to change, and when both babies are crying, you don't magically forget about the other one while trying to soothe the first. It is twice the work at the same time, and while motherhood is magical and wonderful, one plus one still equals two. Double the pleasure, double the fun!!! But just look at those perfect little lips on my Peanut! Awwww...

My New Hobby

2012-01-09T19:23:00.000-08:00

Breastfeeding twins is not a simple endeavor. In fact, it is nigh unto a Herculean feat. It requires courage, pain endurance, ingenuity and genius. To be brief, breastfeeding is a wonderful, rewarding thing as a mother. Making enough milk for two hungry girls is another issue entirely. Raspberries, asparagus, and fenugreek seed (flavoring for fake maple syrup and curry) are great for boosting milk production, but sleep is one of the best things for making more milk. I feed, I pump, I try to find time to rest and eat and drink enough, but like any hobby, it takes practice, time and effort. Thank goodness for my twin nursing pillow by Brest Friend and Newmans Ointment to keep me from being in constant pain. I adore my Phillips Advent pump, combined with my hands-free pumping bra- must haves in my book!

My favorite part about feeding is the little party Sophia has every time she gets ready to feed. It makes me laugh every time!

Motherhood is Delicious to Me

2012-01-06T03:54:00.000-08:00

Where do I even begin? I look in these two tiny faces and I am smitten with the deepest feelings of protection, adoration, gratitude, and wonder. I believe that it could be hard, but to me this isn't hard. This exceeds my expectations. I may be exhausted, and lying in bed, but the moment I hear one of my girls crying, I want to jump right up and run to them. I want to see their little legs kick-kick-kick while their diaper is changed. I want to see their heads turn, looking for food. I want to see the tiny tear that forms in the corner of one eye if I took just a little too long to get to them this time. I am smitten.

I drink in those searching, tiny eyes like the most precious morsels of food. I don't want to let a single crumb fall! I want to hear them breathe and feel their breath against my chest as I cuddle them after a feeding. I want to study those tiny ears, perfect noses, lips, fingers, and toes over and over again. Everything else is a burden, but not them. They are this precious reward that makes every lost hour of sleep vanish into thin air. I want to cling to each tiny moment so I don't lose a single one.

Brevity

2011-12-12T05:26:00.000-08:00

Time and sleep are these two rare commodities in my life these days, so I will keep this brief. Motherhood has been so full of awe and wonder for me. Tiny lives that you want to protect with everything you have are also reliant on you taking good care of yourself. Feelings surface that you didn't know were planted deep in your soul, and unlike younger counterparts, you fail to see the struggles along this journey as negative and purposeless. You feel like the education-deprived child who longed for years to attend school, and because of the lack of opportunity, willingly and without complaint accepts the challenges along with the joys.

That being said, some may say that it's only a honeymoon period right now, but then it is easy to judge when one does not see the big picture. We struggle, we strive, and we accept it all because the tiny lives we created need us to do this, to be there for them.

New Beginnings

2011-12-10T20:53:00.000-08:00

This is Your Brain On Pregnancy

2011-11-30T20:50:00.000-08:00

You've probably heard of the term "half-wit." I always thought it was some derogatory term that was used for one born with limited mental faculties, but now I would better define it as the diminished brain capacity of one who is pregnant. As a prior high-velocity performer, I now suffer from the very real, very painful reality that my brain is operating at a very different level while growing fetuses.

Today was supposed to be my last day of work. I finished an employee eval at 8:00 PM because it just took that long (and my day was packed full of meetings). I decided to squeeze in two more days of work just so I can wrap up some loose ends, but I'm not telling my employees that fact. Alas, perhaps I will feel finished to some extent come Friday.

Last night was a fun ride, full of crazy contractions, complete with nausea and sleeplessness. I started to wonder if these babies were going to attempt an escape in November after all! Fortunately, I think we can safely call them Snowbabies at this point. I love that work is keeping me so distracted from thinking about the birth. Despite my brain on babies and 5 hours of sleep, I was rather impressed with what I knocked out today.

Just two more weeks, and the wait will finally be over.

Dear EBay,

2011-11-29T15:20:00.000-08:00

It's been a long time since we rubbed shoulders. Some things have changed, and overall, I have to say I am not dissatisfied with most of them. I like the new settings to control who bids on my product to help me have a successful auction. That's cool. I like the reserve feature. but not that I have to pay extra for it.

Somewhere along the way I forgot how thrilling it is to see bids come in and watch as the competitors dive in those last few minutes to pay a couple hundred dollars for something I managed to get for a killer deal under thirty! It's an adrenaline rush for a poor prego lady with very little excitement in her world! Thanks for giving me something to do during these last couple of weeks of pregnancy. I now peruse the house thinking, "What can I sell next?" just so I can watch the bids come in. It's even better than posting something on Facebook and getting lots of comments and likes.

Anyway, I guess that's all I wanted to say.

Yours truly,
A

My Man Does Thanksgiving

2011-11-28T22:14:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving was rather unique. C, whose many talents do not normally include cooking handled the meal for the first time ever.

Dinner consisted of yam casserole, turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, rolls, salad, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, and more. He cooked, he served, and he cleaned while I kept my puffy feet up. As shown here, the normal puffy state of my feet and legs. It's kind of cool because you can push on my legs and they stay dented. The Cabbage Patch puffy state would really freak you out.

My dad and brother joined us for dinner, which was delightful. They left shortly after we ate so I could take a nap and watch a movie. It was the best day ever.

Black Yesterday was a perfectly golden day. We didn't race off to fist-fights and cat-fights over inexpensive electronics or camp out to purchase game consoles at 4:00 AM. We didn't drive angrily around treating other people like obstacles instead of human beings. We just took it easy and enjoyed the brisk, but sunny day.

For C's birthday I surprised him in bed with a Petit Four topped with a candle, presents, and his two biggest fans, Penny and Kawi. They really TRIED to get along, but wound up competing for his attention, Penny with kisses and snuggles, and Kawi with copycat yawns. Oh, and yes, that squawk at the beginning is Kawi telling Penny that he isn't happy she's snuggled up to HIS C.

Birdie Contraband

2011-11-28T19:58:00.000-08:00

We have certain limitations around our house. There are some items that are simply forbidden because they create trauma for our little birds. One item is brightly colored gloves. Penny nearly had a heart attack when the man delivering our jetted tub showed up with orange gloves.

Balloons are spheres of terror. At both of my baby showers I had to leave this paraphernalia behind, much to the delight of young attendees. Despite my filtering efforts, the birds STILL got freaked out by the gift bags.

Finally, I can't tell you how many kind friends have brought over plants as gifts. Poinsettias are especially poisonous to our very curious little crew, and there are a few others that fall in that category as well. Silk plants are a favorite of Kawi's, but fortunately they do no harm.

On another note, Penny has finally adapted to her new corner stand (after several modifications), and I have finally been able to look at her without disdain lately because the stand catches most of her mess. We have decided to be friends after all.

What I'll Miss About Being Pregnant

2011-11-26T13:57:00.000-08:00

Feeling two little babies move around inside of me.
The progesterone-Valium effect. Very little ruffles my feathers these days. God gave us progesterone so we could have healthy babies and then the happy hormones go away leaving a basketcase/sleep deprived individual? I am still hoping to get through part II safely. Time will tell.
Knowing my babies are safe and secure, and knowing right where they are every minute of every day.
Auto-pilot feedings via this nifty placenta-umbilical contraption.
Feeling completely productive doing nothing because gestation takes so much energy and effort!

What I Won't Miss About Being Pregnant

Dysfunctional Extremities (numb, swollen hands, swollen feet, legs that move like I am 99 years old)
The inability to care for my own physical needs with normal length arms. I'll just leave it at that.
Blurry vision. Sure, I'd love to work until the day I deliver if I could read my computer screen.
Limited physical movement and energy. I can't wait to be able to bend at the waist again!
Constant congestion and the need to wear Breathe Right Strips at night (the cheap ones don't work, trust me on this).
Limitations on serious snuggle time with my best guy.
People constantly asking me how I am doing or just looking at me and saying, "I'm SO sorry!" It's been a good ride overall, and while I may look tired on the outside, I am very happy on the inside. I'm not sorry, or unhappy.

I am so incredibly grateful for it all because it means wee little ones, tiny fingers and footed pajamas that kick-kick-kick, and the rustle of a plastic diaper on a dimpled bum, and the need to change both of our clothes many times a day because we have spit-up or something worse on us. It means tired, long nights of tiny lungs trying to communicate that something isn't quite right, and knowing that those newborn cries won't last very long, and that someday I'll wish desperately that I could hear them again and again. It means fingernails and tiny toes that are so little and perfect that I can't stop looking at them, and pink padded lips dreaming of their next meal while perfect little eyelashes rest on chubby cheeks.

I guess what I am saying is that while I'll miss a few things about being pregnant, I can't wait for the next step, or rather leap into motherhood, all of it times two.

Epistles of the Rotund

2011-11-22T16:09:00.000-08:00

Epistle 1: The fate of the non-superstitious

Nuf said?

Epistle 2: 49 and growing
Yesterday was a busy day. I had several returns and visits to make, so C offered his running compression socks to keep my feet from swelling. Alas, if only you could see the circus act it takes for him to put them on me, you'd be rolling on the floor with laughter.

My urgent errands included purchasing a stand for Penny so I didn't lose it when she makes messes. She is our mess-making training for babies, but I am eager to contain her enthusiastic eating style where she flips and tosses food across the kitchen. Who brought her home in the first place? Aye, that'd be me. SIGH.

I measured in at 49" this morning, which for some reason means I can no longer shave my legs. It is a sad day indeed, but trade that for sliding into week 35 with two 5 1/2 lb babies? I'm sold.

Epistle 3: When Labor and Delivery becomes my private getaway

I now visit my OBGYN every week, get an ultrasound every week, AND visit labor and delivery at the hospital every week. Friday evening C was working on a talk for church, so I wandered down to L&D and enjoyed a lovely chat with a young nurse while listening to my babies' heartbeats and watching my contractions on the monitor. I then sipped some apple juice and watched a favorite TV show while texting C. It was really quite enjoyable.

After my appointment C texted that if I felt up to it, a late-night snack might be in order, so I ran down to Zupas for the first time and came home with a healthy collection of eats, just as a gentle snow storm was settling in.

Epistle 4: To my Peanut and Cricket
Dear little ones,

I want you to know that I found you the best daddy ever. He's going to love you even more than he can imagine right now. I looked long and hard for him, but at last I found him, and then we just had to wait for the two of you!

I am sure I'll make many mistakes as I try to be the best mother I can be, but I will always know that I did one thing right, and that was finding your daddy. It won't be hard to guess that he will be your favorite, and that's okay with me because if I wanted it to be any other way, I would have picked someone who isn't a real live superhero, or funny, or FUN! or exciting! He will protect you and care for you even if it means giving his own life for you. He wouldn't give it a second thought, because that's just who he is.

I just thought you'd like to know,

Love,
Your mom

One More Week

2011-11-10T22:36:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is a big day. It marks week 33. One more week to 34. Week 34 is the day that I can stay in the hospital with my babies, the day they won't be whisked away from me. Week 34 is also the day that marks a significant drop in the average amount of time my babies will spend in the ICU, and the day that marks an almost certain survival rate for twins.

Swammp Thing meets Prince Charming

2011-11-06T21:39:00.000-08:00

Yesterday morning I woke up before C. I brought him his favorite little bird, Penny, who nibbled on his ear in order to wake him up. Once she accomplished her objective, he rolled over and groped around for his phone. He pushed a few buttons and then held his phone toward me. A strange sound came from the phone, gurgling and growling, growing louder and angrier. It sounded like a badger, and then an angry bear, and then a combination of the Swamp Thing and an angry bear. Suddenly I laughed, "That's me, isn't it?" My snoring was so bad that C couldn't sleep. 100% more blood + 32 weeks prego = snoring monster.

Saturday was my second baby shower. It was a nice casual open house and mom made lovely soups and had a fabulous salad bar. Before I left, C was measuring the back of the baby mobile, and when I came home he had built a platform that fit in the back of the baby mobile. The double stroller slides beneath so that items may be easily loaded on top without losing storage space! Thanks, my handy inventor!

This morning C woke and without saying a word started diapering the stuffed animals in the baby's room where I was relaxing in the lazy boy. I had a good laugh as he put on quite the show, pretending to apply gobs of diaper rash cream and handing me newly diapered toys. How did I get so lucky!

Daylight savings meant I got to sleep more today. That was a happy thing for me, but someone forgot to tell our tiny birds that bedtime is now an hour later. Kawi was acting funny and preening C's socks of fuzz balls before I realized that he was exhausted and ready to go to bed despite what the clock said. Poor little guy! He seems to operate best on about 13 hours of sleep per night.

At church I bore my testimony (an expression of my beliefs) since it could be several months before I get around to it again, depending on when the girls arrive. When I turned sideways to walk to the pulpit I heard a few gasps at my impressive side profile, somewhere between sympathy and alarm. Gotta love it. Still, everyone is extremely impressed that I have managed to stay off of bed rest, and I am just eager to keep it that way!

There's a Hole in the Bathroom, Dear Liza, Dear Liza...

2011-11-04T14:43:00.000-07:00

My resident detective discovered a receipt for a small vanilla cone in the back of the new baby-mobile (vehicle, that is). "Huh, the previous owners must have left this in here." He thought. He walked up the stairs to the kitchen and shouted, "Egad! You did have an ice cream cone!" Crumbling under the pressure of being discovered I asked how he knew. "The corn dog coupon for Sonic on the counter." Alas, my forensic husband knows me well.

I just sent my brother to bed for a nap. I picked him up early to pick up a Christmas Tree tag, and we drove up the canyon, enjoying a beautiful golden morning only to find that they were sold out. Returning home we ate and after playing a computer game together, he grew very grumpy. He resisted the nap, but only momentarily.

I, too am attempting a nap in the baby room because there is too much action happening in my bedroom. The sound of a 16 penny framing nailgun echoes through my bedroom and a few bees have started exploring my bathroom as potential winter quarters. I hate to tell them of their imminent doom. Despite the large hole in the side of my house where the new window will go, I am delighted to have this final bathroom under construction. The 6' jetted tub is shrink-wrapped and waiting to settle into its permanent home once the window is complete.

This week we also installed a dimmer switch in the nursery. This also means I need to stock up on soon-to-be-illegal incandescent light bulbs since those stupid florescent bulbs don't dim and make a horrible buzzing sound. What a rude awakening the U.S. will have when that sneaky law discontinues production of incandescents in favor of the ozone. You'd think they would have at least attempted to find a suitable solution first, but thinking things through isn't everyone's strong suit.

Our candy-free Halloween was once again a success. Despite the fact that adults may think it's lame to hand out playdough, kids card games, plastic wands, vampire teeth and other trinkets, kids dig it. "You guys are the coolest!" I think they just like the idea that it's different... or something. Can't really say, but we didn't get a single kid who acted even remotely disappointed.

The worst comment we got was, "Argh. Why do you have to make it so hard to CHOOSE!" This as the child mulled over the mini jacks set, the little parachute dude, and the mini slinky. Mario and Luigi came back for a second round of "prizes," but we didn't mind. They were so darn cute.

And last but not least, Cricket and Peanut were delightful this week. They seem to get more and more active every day, despite their shrinking environment. Cricket had the ultrasound tech scrambing to take pics as she put on quite the show, and when we left, she said, "You have to know these are the CUTEST pictures. Really!" Cricket opened her eyes, sucked her thumb, stuck her foot in her mouth, yawned and more during her US this week. She has been stretched horizontally across my torso with her head on my left and her bum on my right side, and kicks like Thumper in Bambi.

The photo below shows her snuggled up next to Peanut's head, despite being separated by the placenta, sucking her little thumb.

I Asked For It.

2011-10-30T15:06:00.000-07:00

Life is a dream. I know you think I am only saying that because I am so sleep deprived that I walk around in a sleepless stupor every day, but truly, it is. Even when I went shopping yesterday (one of my last guilty pleasures, since C will be the doing shopping now), and the woman checking me out looked at my uncomfortable 46 inch circumference and said, "I'm sorry," I thought, I wanted this. I asked for it. It's my dream come true to be expecting A BABY, let along TWO!

This morning after a sleepless night during which I tearfully read the NICU chapter in my multiples baby book, I stumbled out of bed at 10 AM into the loving arms of my husband who told me how beautiful I looked. I finally made it into the shower and looked down to find a pristine bathtub scrubbed pumice stone to porcelain by my prince charming and that terrible ring around the drain that I firmly believed was permanent was GONE. I almost cried with joy and couldn't thank him enough for my clean tub AND my clean toilets! Alas, with the water softener, we won't have hard-water battles ahead of us, but six years of mineral water damage takes a little time to resolve.

I sat in church next to my hubby who gently rubbed my belly where little Cricket's head and bum are located. They respond to gentle touches and seem to like music also. Peanut kicked excitedly during some of the music. No, not making this up. Studies show that at this stage babies do respond to music and to light changes from natural light to artificial light.

This is my happily ever after, sure to be filled with tears and aches and pains and even heartache, but what fairy tale is free from those things? The wait has been worthwhile. The discomfort is priceless. Even the scars from giving birth will be tokens of the miracles with which we have been blessed. Every moment of this journey is splendid and magnificent, stretching my foggy pregnant mind in ways that I never thought possible. Here's to gratitude for the journey, no matter the outcome, no matter the struggles that lie ahead. Here's to my personal glorious storybook tale with prince charming and two wonderful little maidens on the way.

Busted!

2011-10-29T10:13:00.000-07:00

Penny likes to bully Kawi. It's a conure thing, I'm pretty sure. She is very sweet, cuddly, and very bossy and territorial. One day I found Kawi in the garbage can because Penny wanted his stand. Despite his attempts to ward her off, she continues to win the battle for Kawi's bathroom stand unless we intervene. Here is a video of her getting caught in the act of invasion:

Conversations

2011-10-27T23:10:00.000-07:00

At Walmart while picking up taco shells for dinner tonight:

Woman in line behind me, cold turkey: Do you mind if I ask you when you are expecting?

Me to myself: If I say December, she may drop over dead.
Me to woman in line: Uh, I have twins, so, not until December.

Woman in line: Oooohhhh... I was going to say, either she's buying her last meal before she delivers or...

Me: Yeah, people used to look at my cute little belly, but now they just look worried when they see me.

Woman in line and cashier and others in line, laughing. As I walk off they all talk about how huge I am. Really, but it's nothing to get your feelings hurt over, it's just the truth.

Tonight, while getting ready for bed:

Me: So, help me understand what happened last night with the toilet paper...

C: Well, I meant to replace it, but then I just got busy and forgot. I didn't mean to...

Me: I know, that's why I thought I'd ask when I was calm and didn't feel like killing anyone.

Flashback to last night: Me, making my usual nightly bathroom run. No TP. Not even a square. Not even a cardboard roll. Me, marching through the bedroom, exclaiming to my very asleep husband at 3AM, "When the TP is OUT, you REPLACE it!"

Bear in mind that this is after four very sleepless nights and much sleep deprivation. C puts dates on the air filters, oil filters, and water filters in the house and changes them right on time. This is a very considerate man who does not leave something undone because he's being lazy, but logic like that doesn't kick in for a paperless pregnant woman at 3AM.

C is running a 5K this weekend. Not running IN a 5K, but he's in charge of it. Organizing it. I helped out a wee bit and purchased a couple of items for him on my Walmart shuffle. It's fun to see him getting the route and supplies ready and I think he's enjoying it as well.

Well, it looks like we are getting our baby-friendly car tomorrow. One more item out of the way. Our bathroom remodel has been delayed due to a window mix-up. It won't arrive until next week, which sets us back a bit, but C will have time to tear out part of our fence to make room for the new shed, so it should work out okay. Everything seems to be moving so quickly around me these days, and I just move slower and slower.

My Little Kicker

2011-10-26T04:08:00.000-07:00

I just might have one of these inside of me:

Remember Cricket? If you don't, this is her latest portrait, in which she was rather wiggley, so it didn't come out especially clean:

It was better than her sister Peanut, who we couldn't get a shot of at all. She was cuddled up behind Cricket, and right after the photo, Cricket turned around to cuddle Peanut as well.

If there is one thing I have learned about Cricket, it's that she loves to kick. Every time we visit a nurse I warn them, "As soon as you put monitors on her, she'll kick them." They smile and nod, and then for the next five minutes all you can hear is Cricket kicking the monitor.

"You weren't kidding!" They say. That's my little kicker. Sometimes if I get my laptop too close to her while working, she kicks it too. I guess when you have limited space, you are willing to fight for what you have. No wonder Peanut is curled up at the very bottom of my uterus - I am not sure she had an option. At least they are in separate placentas, or who knows what we'd have.

For those interested in the latest belly shot, measuring 45" in circumference, here she is, although C claims that it doesn't do justice to just how big my belly is:

Finally, I think our newest hobby is spending money, only not on anything fun. We have most of the baby items, but now we are buying exciting items like new door handles, a water softener, a shed to make more space inside of the house, and remodeling supplies for the bathroom. Two days ago C sold his little Jetta, and we are getting close to nailing down our new-to-us baby vehicle. We found a car that is two years old, but only has 18K miles and is still under warranty. C's requirement is AWD for safety, and mine is V6 for gumption. The previous owner drove it just to work and back, so we feel lucky to have found something with minimal wear. While it isn't much for bling, it should be a reliable vehicle for years to come.

No Sugar for Cain

2011-10-25T04:29:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Cain,

I appreciate your enthusiastic approach to solving financial problems for the nation, however, let me say that it seems troubling that part of your solution involves tacking almost 10% tax on food. It seems unwise in my opinion to exacerbate the issue of poverty (an issue you should understand, given your childhood circumstances) by adding malnutrition to the mix. We already have enough people struggling to buy food for their families without inflating food taxes.

On that note, may I recommend a different financial adviser than a small-town Ohio banker to help solve the nation's debt problems? Were he a bit more experienced on these matters, he might have pointed out that low-income families would experience a tax increase of almost 85%, while most of us would see a 10% increase in taxes on average...except for the wealthy, that is. They'd be getting a pretty good deal with this plan. You are a mathematician, sir. Certainly you have to take these things into account.

While it doesn't take a rocket scientist to run this nation (which I respectfully recognize you have been), it does take a bit more thought than what seems to have been invested in your pre-presidential fiscal plans.

Best Regards,
A.

Once Upon a Spoonful of Brewer's Yeast

2011-10-24T09:04:00.000-07:00

This video hit disturbingly close to home.

Grandma was a nurse. When we visited her, she felt it was her sworn duty to detox us from the white bread and sugar we often ate at home. Do you know what happens when you feed a kid whole wheat when they are used to white? One word: fiber.

She had a glass blender on her counter in which she tossed ingredients like dandelion greens to make green smoothies. I remember her admiring a huge dandelion on a neighbor's lawn and asking for an instrument to dig it out of the ground so she could take it home.

Whenever we were grumpy or tired, she offered us applesauce, but it always tasted funny (due to the vitamin C tablets she crushed up in each dish). Her soybean (the primary ingredient in tofu) cheesecake often went untouched at family events, and candy or sugar of any kind was forbidden inside of the walls of her home.

Brewer's yeast was called "happy juice" in my home, because it made kids happy, er, at least those who would drink it. Yep, I was the kid who ate all of the healthy food and liked it. For those who don't know, Brewer's yeast is the primary ingredient in B Vitamin complex. I don't know about it removing warts like this video claims, but it often made you break out when you started taking it, and if you kept taking it, it kept your complexion clear.

Some of that healthy-stuff rubbed off on my dad. We had a capsule maker at home, and these were often filled with Barley Green, Bee Pollen, Golden Seal, or some other cure-all of the week. The handful of pills plunked down on the table in the video above was not an unlikely site, although we always maintained our own will on the matter.

I personally never got into the pill-ordeal, as exciting as it might seem, except to help fill capsules for my dad, and nobody in my family got into the bubble mushroom tea, although a woman I lived with did. That was just weird. These days it's essential oils, which I still don't subscribe to, but to each their own. That's what makes this a free country, with liberty to follow health fads for all!

Of Diaper Cakes and Dimpled Feet

2011-10-23T04:47:00.000-07:00

You know how after a long, hard day at work, you can't wait to take off some uncomfortable clothing item like shoes, or nylons, or other three-letter unmentionables? Yesterday I had the odd sensation of, "Whew! My workday is done. I can finally take off this enormous belly!" Only then I realized that I couldn't, see?

We have been the recipients of four lovely diaper cakes. As I have mentioned before, diapers are about to become as essential to us as lifeblood, so receiving diapers is a reasonably important event. The key is knowing how long a baby will be in a particular size of diaper, and since diaper cakes aren't something you can return to the store if you get too many of a particular size, one is always grateful to receive larger sizes of diapers.

Newborn size usually only lasts for about a week, and we have that one covered so far with several packages of newborn diapers and a newborn diaper cake. With twins they could be in that size a bit longer, but you get the point. Ah, but it's so much fun to buy the newborn items. I have been there, only now I "get" why newborn shower gifts, while popular, are not always the most helpful. Keep the tags on, because you might want to swap those clothes for a bigger size later.

Finally, while serving a mission I met a young couple who were expecting. The man was dashingly handsome and the wife was, well... big and somewhat puffy. I remember the woman sitting with her feet up when we came to visit, and showing us how when you pushed on her skin, it remained dimpled - er, dented. It just stayed like that. I left that area for a while and when I returned, there was their new little baby girl and a very skinny little wife. Water retention is a bear.

These days I find myself in the same boat as this young mother, big (as in people stare when I walk past them) and puffy. I have some very helpful individuals who seem to think that my puffy feet require some great advice about exercise during pregnancy. To these I gently and kindly mention that I was rather actively engaged in exercise until
A. I realized that it was causing contractions,
B. My feet and hands started to swell during the activities they have suggested, and
C. My doc told me not to.

I have thus far managed to suppress my inside voice that wants to say, "Dude, I'm not fat, I'm pregnant with twins!" Alas, those who have actually had twins often comment on how small and mobile I still am, and are impressed I haven't yet been confined to bed rest.

The secret to my success? I have an awesome husband who has voluntarily and willingly taken on (along with remodeling the master bath, yard care, and a list of other tasks) dishes, laundry, cleaning up after the birds, sweeping, vacuuming, shopping and more WHILE fighting a cold. He is often heard to tell me not to do anything that he can do for me, and to go put my feet up and relax. I tried to sweep the kitchen yesterday and was firmly chastised. What a nice guy. Can we say whoop? WHOOP! Whoop? WHOOP!!! Yep, I landed a winner. He's my hero.

Let's Face it...

2011-10-17T05:52:00.001-07:00

Mom is planning another shower for me. She texted me and asked if 4:00 PM was okay. I thought about the expectations of a meal around 4:00, and suggested 2:00. Her response? She wanted to hold an elegant dinner for me. Well, so much for making her life easier. I have a feeling it will be full-blown antique crystal. I love the ancestral crystal. It's beautiful and elegant, but always makes me worry when we use it. Once we had one of the Lost Boys from Sudan over for Thanksgiving at her home, and he looked even more nervous at the paper-thin stemware.

It's a funny thing. With a mother who spares no effort at elaborate celebrations, you'd think that some of that would have rubbed off on me. My sparse household and holiday decorations say otherwise.

Today mom texted me: Are you on bedrest? People are asking.

Me: Not on bedrest. Babies and I are fine.

Why would people ask this, I thought. Then I went to church and heard about this person and that person who are already on bedrest, and are not as far along as I am. I guess me being almost 30 weeks along gives cause for concern.

The people at church are very caring. I am trying to learn how to cope with very caring. I once told my mom that I am no good at giving or receiving "there-theres." Some people love all of the attention, and want the world checking in on them and fussing over them. I am not of that species. I am not above asking for help when I really need it, but I am also not going to ask for help if I don't need it. I'll just leave it at that.

I finished Baby Wise this morning. I had it on Kindle on my iPhone, so it has been my sleepless night reading for the past couple of months. One bit of advice I really appreciated was this: don't have family come to visit (as in stay with you) until babies are 2 weeks old. That way, you have an established routine and you are confident with what you are doing, and you can counteract their well meaning advice. A friend shared a perfect example of this with me, so I am a believer.

Finally, you should know that my waist has grown almost 20 inches. 20 inches, and still two months to go! C is a bit astounded that a human body is able to stretch like this, supportive and kind as he is. I just hope I don't have to buy more maternity clothes. This is getting expensive.

Past Week Prep:

2011-10-11T15:21:00.000-07:00

I picked up the stroller yesterday, and the changing pad. Did I mention that my box of 84 diapers will last a week? Times 52.

I bought jersey sheets for the crib. Six of them.

A friend gave me a bag of used clothes and I sorted them by age, and then thought about buying bins to keep them organized.

I had the car seat inspected. The inspector was very pleased that we bought the big seat rather than the infant carrier because they grow out of those tiny things so fast, and they are supposed to be rear facing for two years! Did not know!

I scheduled an appointment to meet a pediatrician. Did you know you are supposed to have a pede before the babies are born? I did not know these things...

I ordered a mobile online at 5 AM this morning. It's a Tiny Love Developmental mobile, but much cheaper on Amazon. Brain stimuli = good for babies.

I also found my baby monitor:

I know, I am such a nerd for loving a baby monitor that let's my Skype my girls.

I really need to do something besides prep for babies... okay, my next entry is going to spotlight our bathroom remodel.

Of Caesar and Stretch Armstrong

2011-10-10T07:33:00.000-07:00

"The Caesarean section operation did not derive its name from the fact that Julius Caesar was supposedly born in this manner. It was called Caesarean because the Roman, or Caesarean, law demanded that when a pregnant woman died, her body could not be buried until the child had been removed. The law also stipulated that a Caesarean section could not be performed on a living pregnant woman until the tenth month of gestation. Ancient physicians were unable to save the life of the mother in such cases, thus the procedure was rarely performed. We know from ancient sources that Julius Caesar could not have been born by Caesarean section, because his mother lived to be an adviser to her grown son."
http://www.hsl.virginia.edu/historical/artifacts/antiqua/gynecology.cfm

Two things that a pregnant woman should not do while her husband is out of town:
1. Read about C-sections in her pregnancy books and
2. Discover that she has acquired stretch marks.

As it turns out, my odds for a C-section are reasonably good. 50% good, in fact. I am starting to stare that fact in the face, knife and all. There are some positives here. First, women are often disappointed because they can't tell when the actual birth happens. By talking about it with your doc ahead of time, you can request a narrated surgery so you know the moment each child is born. Second, you can request that the drape be dropped for a moment enough to see your little one after it is removed from the womb, and then ask that the little one be handed to your husband (who is allowed to sit behind the drape with you) so you can at least see him holding the baby/babies even though you won't be allowed to hold them until after the surgery is complete.

There are some other considerations as well, but I am trying to look on the bright side. I have been slated for a vaginal delivery, but my little Peanut has six weeks to rotate, and has been in the same position for the past six weeks. While I am hopeful, I am not an idiot. SIGH. The last part of the chapter encourages one to focus on all of the beautiful happy times and years ahead rather than the mode of delivery, so that's good advice. Envision the beyond moments. I have a pretty awesome imagination, so that will come in handy.

It's been a few weeks since people have seen me, so at my shower there were plenty of big eyes looking at my expanding belly. I'll have to put some pics up soon. Did I mention that I had to get more maternity clothes because I outgrew the ones I had? I am no longer the "cute" prego lady, although everyone still tells me how great I look, I am now the ever-expanding prego lady. People just look at me and say, "Twins, right?" Thankfully I can confirm that.

With all of this expansion, I have been very diligent with my collagen/elastin/vitamin E lotion regimen for stretch marks, only I somehow forgot my underbelly. Wise to look in the mirror as you lather up with lotion, friends, because my underbelly got missed and it shows. I wonder if women in the bible ever worried about stretch marks. I just have to remember: that section of my body may look a lot worse when it's over, scar and all, so I just need to let it go. I have better things to worry about.

Penny Encounters a Penny

2011-10-09T22:29:00.000-07:00

Shower Power

2011-10-09T00:37:00.000-07:00

C's grandparents added this new piece of artwork in their bathroom. I think I love it.

The ward shower was great today. I think one of my favorite parts was the words of wisdom shared. They were very touching, It was so nice to hear and read the kind words from so many sisters. Tonight I finished half of the thank you notes for the many kind and generous gifts. I hope to get through the rest tomorrow.

This n' That

2011-10-07T22:42:00.000-07:00

I listened to Kawi as he spent 5-10 minutes making nose-blowing sounds in his cage this week. I think my pregnancy sinus issues are getting to him. Also, when we are outside on the hammock and a scary butterfly floats by, Kawi uses my huge belly as a barrier to hide behind. See what I've been reduced to?

I am beginning to understand what a bowling ball feels like, both when eating and sleeping. Today I knocked a container of pineapple tartar sauce onto the floor when getting up from a restaurant table, and it splashed onto my pants. I just kept walking, and cleaned up when I got to the car. Also, I totally get what a hamster ball feels like. Rolling is the best (and often only) way to get out of bed these days, and sometimes I think those kicks and wiggles sabotage my efforts to move in the right direction.

I have a rational fear of getting stuck on the floor and being unable to get back up. This week while buying paint for the fence, C called my cell phone. I explained that I should be able to help with some of the painting, and he suggested I spend time in my garden instead. "Er, bending over is a little difficult for me these days..." I explained while a crowd of people at the paint counter looked on. At the grocery store this week, the clerk smiled at my bulging belly and said, "Anytime now?" I smiled back and told her I still had more than two months to go.

Today I had the safety department show me how to install our car seats, and I came to the conclusion that they are NOT going to fit in our car.

Unless we both want to kiss the dashboard, that is...

We have been looking at Crossovers for options already, but this conclusion moves the priority up a bit on the backlog of projects to be completed in pre-baby time including a shed, a bath remodel, a water softener, fence painting, and {I wish} a deck??? Okay, so the deck just isn't going to make it this iterative release. Somehow a garbage can enclosure made it onto the list, due to additional space needed in the garage. So be it, but C, you are not off the hook with that deck forever. You say it's my project, but as project manager, I hire you as lead contractor. So there.

Tomorrow is my baby shower and I'm not sure what to expect. Sure, I have attended showers before, but of course, never for me. They can be lots of fun, but since I am the primary president of almost 100 children, the children have also been invited to the shower/celebration of our baby girls. I can honestly say that I have never attended a shower with children in attendance, so it will be a new experience. There will be no juicy breastfeeding or child-birthing stories shared at this shower, I assure you. Also, I am usually the one planning events for other people, so oddly, I feel a little uncomfortable just showing up to something being held on my behalf without any effort on my part. These are very kind people, and I am sure it will be a wonderful experience.

Well, that's all my mushy brain can contribute for now folks. May all good things come your way!

Late Night Rendezvous with Technology

2011-10-06T09:44:00.000-07:00

3 AM: I wake. I reach for my iPhone to play a few rounds of glass blocks to help lull me back to sleep, but this waking is fatal. I am up for the count. I Skype my friend who just moved to the Philippines on my iPhone, and she decides to Skype call, which is great, minus the sleeping man in bed with me. I get up, throw on a polar fleece for decency, and can't figure out how my phone can Skype call out, so I ask her to call again. There on my phone is her bright, beautiful face lit by daylight. I hunker down in the living room for a savory chat, catching up on her new accommodations and even getting a tour of the view from their high-rise apartment by her husband. Nobody afraid of heights should live in that building! I showed her the crib C put together the night before, and then she got off to make dinner. It's just really cool to have a friend to talk to at 3 AM!

I decided to eat a swatch of breakfast, and settled down to do some work. I worked on some rather tedious but critical verification, and then decided to post a job on Facebook. Since the majority of my time on FB is used to connect and network with others in my industry (yes, I do LinkedIn as well), I had several responses to my job offer even in those wee hours. No doubt those in my industry are saying, "It's just like her to post a job on Facebook." What can I say, I network with some real A-Players, and what better way to gauge interest in a position than reach out to those you know are competent and capable? The results exceeded my expectations.

I finally wandered back to bed around 6 AM, just in time to hear C's alarm go off as I snuggled in next to his warm sleepy self. The next thing I knew he was dressed for the day and leaning close for a prayer and a goodbye. As he left the room I excitedly told him about how Bruce showed me the golf course and sunset in the Philippines, and how Becca told me all about how things were going. "Go back to sleep," he said softly, and I did.

Baby Ethics

2011-10-04T07:06:00.000-07:00

Crib Craze
It's amazing how many people suddenly weigh in with opinions when you are about to have your first child. With twins, one of those ethical dilemmas is the crib. I can't tell you how many people have adopted a stern and serious look when I mentioned that the "cribs" were arriving (we pick them up today - YEAH!). They proceed to ask if we are going to keep the twins in separate cribs. Sigh. These cribs convert into beds, and since twins can't sleep together forever, we purchased two of the same, with plans to use one for as long as we can. Why people feel the right to know this, or have some opinion on how our babies sleep is beyond me. The naughty me wants to say, "Crib? They are going to sleep in our dresser drawers for the first few months."

Bottles and Breastfeeding
Breastfeeding is another issue. Indeed, I never considered NOT breastfeeding, and would be devastated if I couldn't, but with twins, it's completely logical to me to pump into bottles in addition to skin-to-skin. I really don't care what anyone else thinks about that. They will still get tender loving care and the best nutrition possible (and others will get to help feed them), but the minute you mention the word "bottle," the reaction can be rather interesting.

With a mother who was a pioneer in La Leche League at a time when breastfeeding was considered taboo, one would think that she would be the one turning up the heat, but not so. Thanks, ma, for helping change the world for the improved health of infants at a time when health professionals didn't get it. Now they really get it, and all of that hard work has changed the landscape of infant nutrition! Also, thanks for committing to never judge someone's feeding choice. That's just commendable for one who was on the receiving end of so much criticism for breastfeeding and laying the foundation for women to breastfeed in public without being charged for indecent exposure!

Alcohol vs. Drugs
We attended our last prenatal class last night. I am sure C asked over and over in his mind why I wanted him to come to that class with me, but there he was, tending to one of our two baby dolls as if it were the real thing. Later he explained, "I just wanted to prove to you that if I can hold and take care of a fake baby for 2.5 hours, I can take care of a real one for at least 10-15 minutes!"

He leaned over after the first two hours and said, "I am bored out of my mind, and the answer to every single question is, 'it depends!'" I laughed because he was right.

When he later mentioned that he never heard the answer to how augmentation impacted breastfeeding, I said, "You were sending an e-mail when she gave the answer. It was, 'It depends.'"

When discussing the ability for Rx drugs to cross into breastmilk, the lactation specialist comforted everyone by explaining that very few drugs do cross over. C, who appreciates a good controversy asked, "What about alcohol?" Everyone in the room stared, including the lactation specialist. She sternly mumbled something about all of it crossing over. My public self wanted to deflect the searing stares by explaining that neither of us drink alcohol, but I just absorbed it all with a sigh. C wasn't impressed with the "alcohol-bad, drugs-good" message conveyed in the meeting, since prescription drugs are abused rather prevalently in our culture.

Parenthood sure opens up a can of rainbow colored worms, and while we are huge advocates for privacy, we are also learning how to adapt to the varying opinions floating around about what's right. A good friend put it like this, "They are your responsibility, so while everyone else will have an opinion, it's up to you to make sure your babies get what they need."

Forever Preparing

2011-10-02T21:15:00.000-07:00

Imagine spending twelve years preparing for something that never happens, and when it is finally about to happen, you feel so incredibly unprepared that preparation becomes an obsession. With only months between today and the day that your whole life will change, you find yourself running through the veritable checklist that will inevitably not include some essential item.

To make things worse, it will be wintertime, you will have two babies susceptible to RSV season, and you likely won't be very mobile for the first two or three months. Talk about life changes. You don't only want to prepare for the first few days, but rather the first few months.

You have in your arsenal two huge boxes of wipes, but diapers? You aren't sure how big they'll arrive or how fast they'll grow, so you aren't sure how long they'll be in newborn diapers, and how many should you have? A box of 84 diapers won't go very far with twins at 16 diapers a day. That's only like a week's worth of diapers! We are talking about $25/week for diapers; that's $1300/year! Holy Guacamole! Don't tell C, though. That's just frightening. I am already celebrating the day we are potty trained.

Oh, and did you know that the average time for twins to deliver is 35 weeks? That's Thanksgiving. That's a little over seven weeks away. Oh my. So here's to happy swooning over our lives drastically changing in just a matter of weeks.

Cool, Calm, Collected Killer

2011-09-30T23:22:00.000-07:00

Last night I wandered into the garage to find that I had left a light on in the car. I must have bumped it while running errands earlier. I had several items to carry into the house, and had left the door propped open while carrying items up and down the stairs, a mistake that came with consequences.

After turning off the car light, I wandered into a downstairs guest bedroom and was surprised to discover... a guest! We have had one such guest before, beckoned inside by that same door propped open. My surprise did not rattle me, however. You see, I know how to kill.

I gently placed the bait and then stood very still while my little guest ate piece after piece of the tiny green morsels. I heard that a bit of water will speed up the internal bleeding, so I even left a bottle cap of water near the bait. Cruel? Inhumane? Heartless? It had to be done.

Crossing Over

2011-09-30T20:42:00.000-07:00

I have thought about this post for quite some time, and the easy thing to do would be not to say anything. While I may invite some criticism and verbal fire, I have to say this. There is a difference between how you are treated being childless vs. having (or expecting) children.

There really IS a magical line you cross, some rite of passage, some special unwritten club membership you receive upon getting pregnant. When you are childless, you sense that line is there, but you can't quite put your finger on it. It doesn't exist with everyone. There are those who manage to make it less apparent or invisible entirely, but as one who has recently crossed the line from a long barren drought, I say, it really does exist.

The reasons it exists could be greatly varied. I am sure it isn't an intentional exclusion. It isn't a conspiracy. It isn't that women who have babies are intentionally trying to shut out those who don't. It isn't some evil ploy, rather an unintentional clique. I suspect it has something to do with feeling like others can relate to them, and they have something in common. There are women in this world whose entire existence is consumed by child-rearing, and when they try to relate to someone who isn't experiencing or pursuing child-rearing (for whatever reason, intentional or unintentional), they are at a loss for words. They just can't connect. Unfortunately this can come off as being judgmental or aloof.

There are also those, I am sure, who find themselves unhappy in their parenting circumstances, and may be experiencing some self-loathing. When you aren't loving yourself, you sure aren't going to be able to share the love with anyone else! This is likely the exception, and not the rule, but maybe there are those who envy the childless, strange as it may seem. I know I personally have experienced firsthand the comments of close friends who literally, and rather vindictively said, "I can't wait to see YOU suffer." I wanted to reply, "I'd love to, if it would mean having children!"

Maybe they felt that I was judging them in their parenting (which I wasn't), or perhaps they just felt insecure about what they were doing. I can't really explain why someone would say something like that. Of course parenting isn't easy, but nobody should wish ill tidings upon a friend. Children are a blessing, despite the struggle they may inflict at times. Also, it's unfair to assume that one has not suffered simply because they have not had children. Indeed, not having children is a blistering fire of its own that a woman with children may never come close to experiencing.

Well, there. I have said it. There are those who will deny, or argue the point, but I feel I have genuinely been fair to both parties, childless and with child. It just had to be said. I just hope that I may be one of those friends that will never alienate a friend, no matter their status, parent or no.

It Happens Every Year

2011-09-30T20:07:00.000-07:00

We have a pear tree. Just one. It's older than both of us put together, and when our arborist examined it, he was amazed it was still alive. The funny part is that it bears the most beautiful and delicious large pears in huge quantities. It's my favorite fruit tree on our property.

Each week C mows the lawn without fail. Before mowing, the fallen apples and pears must be picked up. The apples are often rather wormy, and inevitably several are lost before they are ripe, but the pears are a different story. They drop just before they are ready, so in a day or two, they reach the peak of perfection. It's a race to see if I can beat C to the punch and stow the pears in the garage long enough for them to ripen, but before the fruitflies take flight. Once the fruitflies appear, C wants to throw the pears away.

Here is the funny part. If I can manage to beat the odds, ripen those pears and dry them, C eats them like candy. You can't buy dried pears like this in the store, no sulphur, no sugar, just perfectly sweet dried pears dipped in lemon juice.

This year something different happened. After the first batch of dried pears (picked up with my robot arm because I can't bend over), C was suddenly motivated to save the pears in the garage for me! I guess along with all of that daddy growing up, some things are bound to change. Oh, and my yield of dried pears this year? At least thrice what it was in years past, and we aren't even done yet.

Oh, one more thing you should know, this was a great movie:

Thanks for playing! :)

Twenty Happy Toes

2011-09-29T21:53:00.000-07:00

Today I received the following text:

C: Please set up an appointment for tonight (or right now) to get a foot massage and pedi! No buts.
Me: For you?
C: Ha! For YOU! If I have to sit next to you I will, but you must get one!

I found a nearby spa that does Reflexology, and we were off for a couple's massage. We soaked in grapefruit oil, had our feet scrubbed, and then went to a candle-lit couple's retreat where we rested on massage beds while our feet received the royal treatment. Ah, my puffy cabbage-patch feet were happy, and C's? If falling asleep is any indicator of how relaxed he was, I'd say he enjoyed it quite a bit.

Peanut and Cricket have been very active lately. One of my favorite activities is watching my stomach jump around on its own. I never tire of feeling my little kickboxing babies. It never gets old. I just smile, even late at night.

Somehow he knows...

2011-09-22T23:26:00.000-07:00

C recently had an "incident." If there is anyone who despises attention and drama, it is C, but there it was. After a long week of late nights, early mornings, driving for several hours, and then running a strenuous race with his nephew (having arranged for a special push bar for his nephew's wheelchair), C almost passed out while giving a talk at church. He quickly and abruptly sat down, and I sat there in the congregation perplexed as to what to do. Do I rush up to see if he's okay? Everyone is watching to see what I'll do, and if I rush up there, it will draw even more attention to him.

Instead I rushed to the primary room to gather chairs for the last primary program practice, and then spent the next two hours stuck on the stage running the primary program. I was a bit over-eager to see him that evening when finally he arrived home. I fed him scratch chicken noodle and put him to bed. After sleeping from about 6 PM til the next morning, he seemed to be refreshed and revived again. "You tried to be me last week." I later said to him, me being famous for over-doing it.

"And I couldn't handle it!" He said. We both had a good laugh over it. It has been nice to shift attention off of me for a while. Everyone I see now asks about him instead of me.

Today C texted me, "Want to do something fun tonight?" I had my last VT appointment around 5:30, but was eager to get out and do something. Later he texted and said that he knew just what we could do: go clothes shopping! I almost cried. That morning I had tried to put on a reasonably new pair of jeans. They were fine until I sat down. My belly has grown so big, that even though my pants fit fine everywhere else, the place where the belly band ends cuts like a knife into me. Most of my maternity shirts no longer cover my belly, and I have months left to grow!

That evening C was the best friend ever, picking out comfy and cute clothes, helping me try them on and take them off, holding my purse and waiting while I ran to the bathroom, and saying all of the right things when I exclaimed that I looked like unto an elephant in the mirror. I couldn't be more lucky to have a best friend like that, and to top it off, he is my husband too!

We Named Them...

2011-09-21T21:33:00.000-07:00

Okay, you've had enough pictures for a little while. This one is just boring old text. Maybe some pics, we'll see.

I went to the doc - I should say WE... WE went to the doc, although the doc was late, so WE got the ultrasound and saw the nurse and then I waited and waited and waited and finally sent C off to work. Alas, the doc arrived (a loaner doc, since mine just had a baby) and told me that my babies were the absolute perfect weight. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it! It's hard to keep twins at the right weight!"

They are one ounce apart in size, which is rare, and not too big, not too small, just perfect! "Well, I do eat Ben and Jerry's sometimes..." That didn't go over quite so well. For some reason, doctors feel it is morally wrong to endorse Ben and Jerry's, but I am sure they are thinking about someone other than me when images of icecream indulging pregnant women flash through their mind. That isn't, nor ever has been THIS woman. We are talking, 1/2 cup maybe twice a week. Reasonable fatty caloric intake to make up for the spinach salad, lean meat, whole grains, and fruit I ate for dinner. So C tells me that what I didn't tell the doc was all of the healthy food I am eating, and that's what really is getting these girls to where they need to be, but that's no fun.

We have had some fun with the twins lately. I read in a baby book that we should name them to help them seem more real. They are, after all, real. We aren't ready for real names, however, but Baby A and Baby B are a little too generic. Introducing our affectionately nicknamed baby girls, Cricket:

and Peanut:

Aren't those little lips so precious, and their little squishy noses with no cartilage in them yet? Chalk it up to 3-D imaging to make those hands look all funky, though. We are pretty excited. This morning, after a real live night of sleep (something I haven't experienced for weeks), C came over to me and started talking. As soon as she heard his voice, little Cricket started kicking. She is going to be very active for sure, and probably a Daddy's girl.

I had a dream last night that I gave birth. We have been attending child birth classes and much to the dismay of my better half, we have also had the pleasure of viewing birthing videos, including a rather detailed C-section. It is my deepest desire to have these babies without having major abdominal surgery, and in my dream last night I was able to give birth without complications. May it be so, oh, may it be so!

If you have ever met one of those Apocalypse fanatics that have a bomb shelter in their backyard and stockpile supplies like mad, that is now me. I don't just cook one pot roast, I cook 2, and then I stick one in the freezer. I make a pot of scratch chicken noodle soup, and stick half in the freezer. See, once upon a time someone promised to bring me a meal. I was tempted to make my own, but resisted. They never showed up. How silly to get upset about something like that, so I have a back-up plan. I am cooking for myself for later, when I am a total wreck and wish I had me to cook for me.

Well, Sleep is calling, that elusive pimpernel. I better push publish or yet another post will fail to see the light of day (I have a graveyard of unpublished posts). Adieu!

Blackberry Festival: Of the Edible Kind

2011-09-16T03:01:00.000-07:00

From Seattle you may hop the ferry to Bainbridge, Bremerton,or even Victoria. Because I wanted to visit Yang's Botanical, we opted for Bremerton and landed ourselves smack dab in the middle of the blackberry Festival.

You must know that blackberries grow like weeds throughout Washington state, along almost every road. This makes it rather inexpensive to whip up a batch of soft blackberry brew, but I still wasn't convinced there were any blackberries in it.

We resisted the urge for a fried Twinkie,

and instead opted for something we knew had blackberries in it.

In addition to delectable fare, there was plenty of eye-candy, like this spidey halter top, a must have for every wardrobe.

The offerings were colorful and varied, appealing to every age group of the feminine kind.

Cheers!

Going Botanical

2011-09-14T04:04:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my first late-night feeding of the twins. I have made it this far without needing to eat outside of the normal grazing hours. Hopefully this isn't a pattern.

Last night we watched Thor. I must confess, we both enjoyed the film and the fact that it was a clean movie. Clean movies are hard to find these days. The actor playing Thor had his shirt off for a minute and I told C that he was my ripped Thor. Nay, he is even better than Thor. He not only practiced kissing my hand to make me melt, but he also spent much of our vacation doing exciting "guy" activities like visiting botanical gardens. He also paints my toenails, buys me beautiful, bright flowers, and kindly tugs his lumpy lady out of the car wherever we go.

Taken Over By Alien Lifeforms

2011-09-12T13:30:00.000-07:00

My conference was delightful. I flew out from Seattle to enjoy the company of 2000 individuals consisting of friends, associates, and colleagues who literally showered me in kindness and goodwill. Even strangers had something kind and wonderful to say. It was a week full of generosity and cheer. My lecture went reasonably well, minus the fact that it was on Saturday, and by then I had overextended my lady lumptious self.

What a strange feeling, indeed, to be taken over by alien lifeforms, tiny creatures dwelling inside of you, kicking and pushing as you watch your body moving through no force of your own. Sometimes you reach down and feel something hard pushing against your skin... a head? a tiny bum, perhaps? Thump, thump, thump. They remind me that they are here and growing (they'll double in size over the next few weeks!). Those maternity pants that fit last week are tight across the belly, despite the "comfort panel," and that shirt that once looked like a tent now fits perfectly over your swollen belly.

Alien life forms also make you do things that you never thought you would do, like walk very slowly, and buy "Shape-ups" shoes because that extra weight is just too much for your little feet. Aliens make you request a wheelchair at the airport because the hurried 5K walk to the next terminal in O'Hare will bring on contractions. You drop things on the ground and leave them there because it just isn't worth that five dollar bill to bend over and pick it back up. You ask other people to lift your luggage into the overhead bin on the plane, and you willingly let your petite girlfriend haul your luggage AND hers up two flights of stairs and thank her profusely for doing so!

Aliens also make your eyesight worse, and you are truly grateful when the party favor at the conference banquet is a magnifying glass so you can read the small print on your credit cards again. Aliens not only make you grow two bladders (one that needs emptying now and the other ten minutes from now), but your feet swell like balloons when you attempt to stand too long. This requires that you willingly accept when your friends stand to offer your FEET a chair. Did I mention how nice everyone is?

It's getting easier to accept help, something I never thought I would see myself do in a million years. Independence and provident living runs deep in my veins. Although I have been quoted on many occasions to say, "Give generously and accept graciously," self-sufficiency is the unspoken, unwritten law that governs my actions. Oddly, people seem more than happy to help, even if I seem reticent to ask or accept.

I was once inspired by the women who were prego and running races, working as a doctor until the day she gave birth, but now, don't even tell me about it. I don't want to hear about that woman. I thought she would be me, but she isn't, and while I am going through mourning accepting that fact, I am also starting to figure out that growing babies, just plain GROWING BABIES is a lot more work than I ever knew. Gestation is a full course meal on its own, so here's to my own little race, growing girls in my own little incubator, and everything else is, well, an extra side dish.

What's on the menu for tonight? Our first birthing classes! C is SO excited (at least he is trying to pretend he is). Neither of us are very thrilled about 2 1/2 hours of sitting, but it's all part of the job.

Market Meanderings

2011-09-07T20:19:00.000-07:00

It isn't the Space Needle that makes Seattle special, but somehow it stands as this monument to a place I adore. It isn't because of some Meg Ryan movie, or because of one place or event. It's the place my man loves. It's where he lets down his hair and is completely at home. It's a place where we always find a bit of magic together, just the two of us, and where we just enjoy being together, no matter what we are doing.

Sure, I am a foodie. I guess that's why I love the market. I love the bright colors,

Unique people...

Incredible fresh fish...

The produce...

Delectable cheeses and crumpets...

Adorable hats that I would be tempted to buy for my baby girls if they hadn't been out of the bunny ones...

Funny T-shirts...

Strange stores that carry things like the largest collection of Castile soaps I have ever seen,

Strange concoctions in brown mayonnaise bottles,

...and things like this:

We had to eat some Ivars at the pier, because the seagulls MUST be fed french fries. And for dessert?

You guessed it. The best huckleberry ice cream in the world from Steamers. I am pleased to announce that this trip, one cone did the trick.

Seattle, You Sexy Thang!

2011-09-02T08:59:00.000-07:00

Dear Seattle,

I dreamed a dream, that when we next found each other, it would be a beautiful reunion. I can't explain it, but somehow I just knew. You see, when you are prego with two, your blood increases twice that of singletons. You can't breathe through your nose because your veins are suddenly twice as full and you have two tiny furnaces burning inside of you constantly.

Seattle, you did something magical last night. You made me feel slightly chilled, something I wasn't sure I would ever experience again. My comrades, clad in jackets and shivering, didn't recognize the beauty of goosebumps on this bulbous lady, but alas, it was a sweet flavor to my skin.

You didn't stop there, but I slept WITH COVERS ON, and didn't have to wake up to drink four glasses and then play scrabble for two hours while my overheated self cooled down. What's more, I DIDN'T EVEN TOUCH MY SALINE SPRAY BOTTLE! I woke and could breathe, and even cuddled up to my beloved buddy rather than regarding him as a shunned hot-pocket lying beside me! Oh, Seattle, you know that a restful night for me is so rare, and yet, you handed it to me on a silver platter. Bless you Seattle, for setting me free from sleepless nights, even just for a little while.

(SKIP TO 17 Seconds:)

I'm on my way...

2011-09-01T11:14:00.000-07:00

We pulled into the hotel in the wee hours of the morning for a sip of sleep. The room was clean; almost institutionally so, albeit Spartan in terms of amenities save the bottle opener fixed to the bathroom vanity. The parkay floors were scrubbed clean as well, bolstering my confidence in this budget hotel enough to take off my shoes. A single sliver of soap served to scrub hand and body, and the tiny shower cheerfully washed my travel woes away after a spotty five hours of sleep. Onward to cooler temperatures and foodie pleasures tomorrow.

PS- congrats Kyle and Desi on your engagement!!!

Man of Steel turned Iron

2011-08-29T20:22:00.001-07:00

C has secretly been obsessing about doing an Ironman for sometime. His triathlon races were just stepping stones, but he has been increasing his bike mileage, swimming longer, and training harder for a while. He's watched Ironman videos on YouTube and finding ways to increase his speed and endurance. And then he has a wife who has been secretly hoping that he would not start on an Ironman training schedule as she stands on the precipice of becoming a mother of not one, but two little baby girls. As one who is his biggest cheerleader, I rarely try to stand in the way of a goal or a dream, but in this case, I was holding my tongue.

I don't remember how it happened, but somehow he stumbled upon a website that listed a half-ironman race only days prior to the race. He tried to get in, but the race was full, so he joined the waiting list, and only a day or two before the race, he was in! It shifted my plans a bit, but I was delighted at the timing. He got to taste a bit of Ironman, and I got the relief of knowing that would tide him over for a while.

He had originally planned on being gone on a motorcycle trip on the day of the race, but was all-too-happy to come back early. I had planned on taking my little brother for the weekend. This was his biggest event yet, and I was determined to support him, so I took a day off prior to the race to spend the day with my brother and mom at the zoo. It was delightful.

The race day came. C loaded up his gear and headed out early, and I slept as long as possible and managed to get out of the door at my pregnancy pace. I realized I was going to miss his first transition, so I said a prayer that he'd know I was there before returning from his 2 1/2 hour long bike ride. As I turned down the road to the race and saw the bikes coming my way, I had a feeling that he wasn't far from where I was. I pulled off of the road, got out with my golden cowbell, and waited. In the distance I could see a patch of bright green. I was so happy, I almost cried. I'm sure it had nothing to do with being prego. :) I cheered loudly as he passed. He knew I was there, supporting him. As usual, I recruited a few additional fans, one of whom screamed his name followed by, "I LOVE YOU!" The video I captured of the "Huh?" look on C's face was priceless.

The biggest surprise of the day was that C took first in his division in his first half-ironman. We were pretty pleased with that outcome. Way to go, my Ironman (well, almost). I did some homework with the other spectators and found a race where in the next year or two, my girls and I can ALL cheer him on during an Ironman event in comfort. Hang in there babe, we'll get you to the full finish line soon, and you'll have some extra fans by your side!

Are the Birds Dead or Something?

2011-08-25T22:55:00.000-07:00

First, Kawi survived his vet appointment. Penny was quite sweet and let the vet check her without much ado, minus a few escape jumps back to me. Kawi was a different story. After a rigorous struggle complete with heart-wrenching cries, the vet checked his wings, felt his breastbone, weighed him, inspected his beak, eyes, nose, then handed him back to me and said, "Well he's kind of dramatic." Indeed.

We were thinking of having the vet bird-sit them while on vacation, but somewhere between the institutional room, distressed cockatiel sitting on the floor, and $600 worth of required medical tests, I had a change of heart. Also, my request for the birds to be taken out of their cages for at least an hour a day was met with some waffling, followed by a rather insincere yes.

On second thought, I think we'd come home to two very distressed birds and a much lighter pocketbook.

Bird Beater

2011-08-19T21:22:00.000-07:00

I am the official bird abuser. When the birds need their wings clipped, I am the one with the scissors in my hand so they won't fly off and become kitty litter.

Tomorrow I take our 1 year old conure and our three year old cockatiel to their first vet appointment. Sigh. I am already the mean parent. Stay tuned for the gory results of Kawi being handled by a man with gloves on. It's gonna get ugly folks.

It Happens Every Day...

2011-08-18T21:51:00.000-07:00

Every day women get pregnant, but then there are those that want it more than anything, and it doesn't come. What comes instead is a reminder, painful and unwelcome, that shouts the news that pregnancy is still far from a reality. It aches like an echo in the soul that reverberates off of the empty walls of the heart, left unfurnished, unfulfilled by that tiny being that relies completely upon you for survival.

It is that life I have known that makes any ache or discomfort now seem a rich blessing, because I can't forget that many, so many, would give anything to be right where I am today. How ungrateful I would be to forget my fellow sisters who continue the fight to shepherd a tiny soul, to be the source of life for another being, and to know that it may come with great sacrifice. It is this recognition that makes every moment precious and worthwhile. My sisters, I pray for you as you battle the tide of the unknown. May your journey lead you to your heart's desire!

"Buy Me Some Peanuts and CrackerJacks..."

2011-08-17T07:07:00.000-07:00

Tonight we picked up a little baseball. Once again, my favorite "salesperson" hooked us up with front row seats, allowing me to keep my feet up for the whole game. My seat buddy was a seven year old girl who fell in love with my embellished pink flip-flops and commented on them several times throughout the evening. It was refreshing to have someone fixate on my shoes rather than the water retention in my feet and ankles.

I picked up a little ice cream. The cone was big enough to catch the attention of a passing baseball player on the field, captured in this shot. It also caught the attention of the seven year old AND the woman sitting next to us who put her foot in her husband's beer.

On the way home, the moon was gorgeous, and I managed to pick up this shot with my little Canon PowerShot. Not too shabby for a point-and-shoot camera with no tripod, no?

As we approached home, we pulled up next to a little red car, maybe a Yaris? Our windows were down, taking in the perfect evening air, and so were his. "I think I can take him. No, I KNOW I can take him!" C said.

I giggled, and then shouted loud enough for the other driver to hear, "He thinks he can take you!" The little red engine revved and the driver took his racing stance. The light turned green and...

Have you ever heard a four year old mimic a race car? That little red sounded JUST like that! Rasperries and all! I almost laughed, but of course, we let him win.

My Best Friend

2011-08-15T06:38:00.000-07:00

Last night I looked through the dim light at the peaceful face beside me. I thought about all of his kindness, generosity, willingness to serve, and goodness. I wondered how in this great world I managed to find such an amazing friend, companion, and father-to-be?

This weekend was our twelfth anniversary. Being pregnant on an anniversary has its limitations, but that didn't stop C from being an absolute knight in shining armor for me. We went to a movie on Saturday night, and noticing that I was shifting around from a sore back, he put his arm behind my back, alleviating the pain entirely. I won't share all of the kind things he did, but here are a few:

He asked around about the perfect anniversary gift for a pregnant lady, and was told that a glider rocker was the ultimate. Knowing that I am not your average lady, C first asked if a glider interested me. I am afraid that the look on my face gave away my true feelings. Glider rockers have no sustainable use and wind up as yard sale fodder once children reach toddler age. My solution: Get the perfect football recliner that fits a twin nursing pillow for the first couple of years, and continues its use for years to come.

After a busy day yesterday, I sat in my new rocker/recliner with my feet up, and was served milk and fresh baked oatmeal cookies by my sweetheart.

C splurged on this bit of bling for his wife who has expanded beyond her size 5 real wedding ring. It came in just under $15.00 rather than the 15K that something like this COULD cost. We bought it big, knowing that my puffy fingers still have a way to go.

Tonight's events involve 3rd row tickets to Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat, my surprise gift to C. There may still be something up my sleeve, but shhhh, don't tell. Finally, C was serious when he offered a trip to Seattle on my "Searching for Seattle" post, so we will be heading to cooler and more humid places, a foodie's fantasy. I look forward to temperatures in the 60s and 70s, sleeping without a humidifier, and spending some alone time with my eternal buddy.

Silicon Valley

2011-08-13T05:18:00.000-07:00

I work for a Silicon Valley company, but have the great privilege of also working from home since I live in close proximity to a critical affiliate relationship. It's the best of both worlds. My company is so good to me that it's hard to find the words to describe. My recent trip to the Silicon Valley was delightful and productive, minus the torture of being a pregnant woman trapped in a tiny airplane seat. I stayed at the Sofitel while visiting and in addition to taking in some networking opportunities, I also enjoyed room service since no other restaurants were in the pregnant-woman-on-foot vicinity.

I took a car straight to work. The work environment is a perfect reflection of one of its designated rooms, complete with Yoga mats, air plants, and a peaceful view of the outdoor gardens:

Visiting the Silicon Valley is like going to an enormous workplace where everyone is mentally running at full capacity all of the time. Most employers try to find ways to keep employees at work all of the time, and will even pay you more if you live within 10 minutes of work. Employees are treated rather well. I have seen more Porsches, Audis and Beemers in a collective space along with chaufferred luxury Towne cars this week than in a year.

During my visit I addressed a large group of some of the brightest minds, all graduates of Stanford or Harvard, and all new employees of my company. I presented what my team's role is in the company, and quite frankly thought that they would be bored to tears. Our session went 30 minutes long because they were so interested and asked so many questions. It was so refreshing! I realized that I have a deficiency of truly mentally stimulating conversations in my life.

I always look forward to the fabulous on-site work environment, but I am always grateful to return to my own Zen home, complete with hammock, husband, and birds content to perch on my shoulder while I flit around the house.

Aaand the Winner is...

2011-08-11T20:20:00.000-07:00

The results are in. We had our ultrasound this morning. The brains were healthy. The spines were closed and healthy. Each heart contained four perfect-looking compartments. Internal organs were all in their proper locations and nothing was visibly incorrect or out of place. The babies' weight and size was good, and neither had a cleft palate. They were wiggly, and one even waved, a good indication of strong mental capabilities.

My mom eagerly awaited the news. She had the perfect role models for grandparents. She felt unconditionally loved, doted on, adored, cherished. My mom couldn't wait to be a grandparent. It's what she lives for. She especially loves doting on the girls, perhaps because as a child she was an "only grandchild" for many years. Every Easter she was given a new complete outfit, muff, gloves, shoes, dress... and a huge Easter basket. I have the photos - the proof year after year.

For Christmas the living room overflowed with gifts. It was so full that you couldn't walk through the room. Her grandparents kept her at their home as often as possible. During the summer she lived with them. Her grandmother adored her so much that she even asked if my mom could live with her all of the time.

"I don't care how much money we make. Our kids are going to learn how to work." C said. Needless to say, there are some conflicting philosophies going on here.

We made it through the inventory of Baby A, head to toe, and then we had a perfect view of... a little girl!!! C had the biggest smile on his face. I wish I had a camera to capture that smile.

Baby B was squirmy and very active. Everything looked perfect. Once again we had a shot of the legs and we both were surprised to find that it was another GIRL! Miscellaneous from Missy, way to go! You guessed it! http://recursively.blogspot.com/2011/08/pink-blue-or-pink-and-blue.html

Mom's response to her two new girly-grandbabies?

"FABULOUS!!!!! All pink! :) wow I can go crazy! I'm so thrilled for you both." Yep. They'll be spoiled alright.

Needless to say, we are very excited to welcome our baby girls in the next 16-18 weeks.

For Your Viewing Pleasure...

2011-08-09T22:38:00.000-07:00

If you haven't had a good laugh today:

I had a visit from my dad yesterday, who introduced me to Kid History and helped advise us on a household repair. We have been knocking out a few home projects lately. We finally installed our third car pad outside (previously gravel) and we are looking a little more civilized. The repair was a leaky pipe. I can't imagine trying to tackle larger water damage restoration projects. C was quite the handyman and knocked it out right away.

We also replaced our shower head on Saturday. I am not a big fan of hoses in a shower, but when you think about trying to bathe two babies at the same time, you are willing to compromise. The new shower head looks like an old fashioned microphone. I am sure someone will find a use for it in their shower serenades.

In the next 12 weeks we are also planning on remodeling our Master Bath. I am excited about this one, but not nearly as excited as I am about the ultrasound day after tomorrow! Good thing I am on a business trip or I'd be going stir crazy.

Speaking of Being Content...

2011-08-05T16:27:00.000-07:00

Last night I woke at 3AM. I was overheating in my well-insulated shell. I downed four full glasses of water before I started to cool down, and by then I was very awake. Once awake, I have learned that I might as well do something more productive than count the minutes on my clock in bed. Sometimes I write in a journal (real paper ones), or read something interesting. This time I blogged.

At long last my eyelids grew heavy. I had been sitting in a cool part of the house, and my feet were cold just like I like them. I snuggled back in bed with my Boppa pillow and my bestest buddy, and started to drift off to sleep. Baby B had other ideas. Now was a perfect time to kick-kick-kick-kick... Soon Baby A was awake, too, and decided that kicking sounded like a fine idea. I rolled onto a different side, but on they went. I was so tired that I finally fell asleep in spite of my kick-boxing babies.

Not long after I fell asleep I woke with a terrible jolt of pain. It felt as though some fierce beast was gnawing at my right calf. I had forgotten to take my prenatals for the first time in forever, and those babies decided that they would suck every ounce of potassium right out of me. Where are bananas when I need one? C helped massage the Charlie horse until I could fall back to sleep.

Despite my restless night, I had a reasonably productive work day today. Instead of a thrilling evening out on the town, I am opting for a recovery nap. I might as well enjoy them while they last... Alas, I am content.

The Art of Being Content

2011-08-05T03:05:00.000-07:00

When we were first married, my sister (who isn't much more than a year older than I am) gave me a story for my wedding present. It told of a quest to find the happiest couple in all the land. Throughout the story, the seekers encountered those with many children who felt burdened, those who compared themselves to others, those who complained about a spouse for this reason or that, those with none or not enough children, and each one was unhappy. At last, after thinking that is was impossible to find this happy couple, the seekers encountered a small, poor, couple who considered themselves blessed above everything else. They were content with what they had.

The very simple moral of this story was the secret to a perfect marriage. It was wanting what you have while you have it. Early in our marriage I encountered many who were like those in the story, looking forward or looking backward discontentedly at what they didn't have, or comparing themselves to others. They were never happy for themselves, and they certainly weren't able to be happy for others.

I am always surprised at how easy it is to find those around me who are eager to see others unhappy and miserable, as if it would somehow bring them great satisfaction. I wonder if they realize how much peace comes in hoping for the best for others as well as for themselves. There is peace in knowing that you treated others with the kindness and love that they deserved, so that should you lose them at any moment, you may look back with no regrets.

Life is short, and we don't know what curve balls we'll get. Life is a continual waxing and waning of the tides, full of apexes and nadirs; giving at times, and then taking at times. There is magic in embracing what you have at the moment, seasoned with eternal hope: the pain, the happiness, the struggle, the sorrow. It is liberating. It is the very thing that makes us feel alive.

In Search of Seattle

2011-08-04T06:52:00.000-07:00

I was in a bit of a funk today. I have been missing the Northwest lately. There are some things you can't do in the Northwest. You can't walk in your Vibrams to Pikes Place Market without the risk of getting your feet wet. You can't count on a perfectly sunny day or dry camping conditions when you visit Mt. Rainier to roast marshmallows. You can't travel to the most beautiful parts of the state without taking a ferry boat. You can't find half-naked men and women basking like baked potatoes in the sun on Northwestern beaches. You can't avoid crowds of unique and unusual persons while visiting the "foodie" district.

Come to think of it, those are the very reasons I DO like the Northwest. Oddly, I feel a little homesick not having visited there this year. My conference was one deterrant, and then a new job, pregnancy, well, there are a few reasons we haven't made it there this year. I decided I needed to find a little piece of Seattle to tide me over.

While traveling home from a short trip last night, I passed what appeared to be a potential foodie joint. I stopped by an interesting looking bakery, but found that my high expectations were dampened. It was a far stretch from Sluy's bakery in Poulsbo, but I managed to locate something worthwhile (white, powdery, Argentine pastry filled with dulce de leche).

On my way to the bakery, I also noticed a new Thai restaurant.

It looked reasonable, and very clean, so I stopped in for an order to go. It wasn't Long's Vietnamese restaurant, (below), but...
their Massaman Curry was delicious.

Finally, I was craving a huckleberry cone from Steamers something crazy. Here, too, came the compromise. While driving home, behold! Arctic Circle was offering Huckleberry shakes!

It wasn't quite the same (Steamers cone below),

but scooping the huckleberry shake into a reasonably tasty waffle cone (not from Arctic Circle) was a decent substitute. Unfortunately, cookie-monster Penny photo-bombed my pic, but somehow it made it look a little more tasty.

Aaand... let's just be honest, locating a group of eclectic, diverse, unique, and unusual individuals near my home? Well, you can't have everything...

Pink, Blue, or Pink and Blue?

2011-08-03T15:03:00.000-07:00

You have one week left to guess what we are having. We have held off purchasing much of anything because we still don't know what we are having. Unlike certain individuals who stray far from my way of thinking, I have never been a fan of being "surprised" at birth.

We haven't seen the babies for 6 weeks and I am going a little stir-crazy. At the recommendation of my OB/GYN, we are waiting until the full 20 weeks for this ultrasound; something about being able to see the brains, liver, kidneys, and other "important organs." For some reason she didn't list reproductive organs among those, but of course, those will be visible as well.

So here are our guesstimates. These are no reflection of what we WANT them to be, rather what we THINK they will be. We would both be absolutely delighted with healthy, happy babies of any gender:

I think we are having two boys. C thinks we are having a boy and a girl. What do you think?

Of Cankles and Calando

2011-08-02T02:07:00.000-07:00

I have experienced a surprising burst of energy in my second trimester, which means that I ride it like an entertainment park ride. I have been cleaning, cooking, and organizing my own home, and then I go and clean and organize someone else's home, and cook dinner for them as well. After all, it's just as easy to make two lasagnas as it is to make one.

My normal speed is rapido, and my normal energy level is Energizer Bunny. I guess that's why I love speedy music, don't use recipes when I cook, and listen to books on tape at up to five times their normal speed. I like life to move fast because you can get so much more accomplished in this flash of an existence. Time is so precious and should be used with abstemious measure. Unfortunately, when your belly looks like this, even high levels of energy don't mean you are capable of being quick on your feet.

At C's event this past weekend, I ran along the full length of his mile swim, and then ran back along it in the high temperatures. In addition to running a couple of miles, I walked an additional mile or two, and was on my feet almost the entire time. By the end of the day, I no longer had legs, ankles, and feet; I had cankles and sausages. I couldn't even see the bone structure in my feet. I was perplexed, but tried to cool them off in the river while waiting for C's trophy, and then just kept going.

A friend came to visit on Sunday and noticed my still very swollen legs and feet. She's a nurse, and commented on my oversized, edema-stricken pedes. She prescribed staying off of them (a novel idea that hadn't occurred to me), and the next day, behold! I could see my ankles again! So the moral of this story is, "Energy to do everything while you are pregnant does not mean you should do it all at once." So, here's to merging into the slow lane for the next several months.

I'm sure there's SOMETHING good about the slow lane. I mean, that IS where the Cool Bus hangs out...

How Smurfs Saved the Day

2011-08-01T18:11:00.000-07:00

Some may say it was the hours of swimming that helped C take first place in his event division this weekend.

Some may say it was the cranky old swim coach who offered unsolicited technique tips one day at the pool.

Some may say it was the 50 mile uphill bike ride he did prior to his race.

Some may say it was the fact that he lost some weight, and still others may say it had to do with the extensive detail he paid to hydrating prior to the race.

The truth of the matter, however, lies in a ritual that almost no triathlete has ever attempted the night before a major event:

Smurf Dance-Dance Revolution!

The Plunge...errrr...!

2011-07-31T21:08:00.000-07:00

We left town for one of C's events yesterday. I worked from home starting at 4:00 AM with surprising vigor, and finished with a final conference call on our way out of town. C was driving quietly to avoid disturbing this phone call with an employee, when suddenly he burst out and called the vehicle next to us a name... not a profane name, but a name that would certainly sound out of place in the background of a work conversation. The person on the other end of the line grew silent. "Could you hold on for a minute?" I asked, giving C a smoldering look. I came back on the line, completed the last few minutes of my 30 minute phone call, and sat in silence for a while. "I want you to know that the next time you are on a call with one of YOUR employees, I will feel completely justified to shout out something, too."

"I'm sorry. That car almost ran me into a semi truck. Not that it's any excuse. I totally used my outside voice when I meant to use my inside voice." C said.

Let's just say that I will reconsider any future road-trip work conversations.

The rest of the trip was really quite pleasant, minus the fact that my tolerance for sitting for long stints in a car seem to have narrowed down to about a ten minute window. We were welcomed at our destination by near and dear friends and their delightful three children who undoubtedly feel that we are there to visit them as much as their parents. We settled into the basement guest bedroom, a great blessing for one extra-insulated lady with kicking twins, and enjoyed a restful sleep.

The next morning C woke to SPLISH...SPLASH...SPLISH...SPLASH... SPLISHSPLASHSPLISHSPLASHSPLISHSPLASHSPLISHSPLASH... "RRRRR!" One frustrated wife had encountered her worst nightmare of clogging a host's Loo.

Realizing he was awake, I walked into the bedroom with my hands in the air and said in a frustrated whisper, "This is the most ineffective plunger I have ever encountered!!!"

"What'd you do, drop a missile in there? I'd like to help, but..." We both laughed at this painful situation. I went back to my porcelain vigil. I'd like to say that it was over in five minutes... or even ten... maybe fifteen would be reasonable. I think that it was close to thirty minutes later that I could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

Violets are Blue...berries...

2011-07-27T23:24:00.000-07:00

Lately, I am starting to feel a bit like this:

See?

Oddly, when I visited my old job this week, everyone told me how fabulous I look. "You look so... relaxed and... not stressed!" I met with those who took over the conference planning, and let's just say that my dissipated stress seems to have found a new home. "You are definitely missed," said one dear colleague. "I mean, not just because of all of the work you did, but, well, you are DEFINITELY missed." I am not sure what DEFINITELY meant. Maybe it meant that I was the sassy one in the room with turrets-like candor who would push back when it wasn't the bureaucratically correct thing to do. What good is an employee who always tells you that you have great ideas, I always say.

I confess that looking back I could have measured out more diplomacy with that candor. At the time I thought that thought the opposite extreme from other's behavior a more favorable and raw form of communication. Still, that is no excuse. Mine were interpretive expressions of disrespect, and interpretations are not reality. To think that an individual is spineless and is unable to muster up enough integrity to say what needs to be said is just as inaccurate as the individual who says, "I am just being honest" to excuse their unkind words or bad behavior, and never own up to the real emotions percolating in their hearts. To objectify another human being is to remove the humanity in them, and terrible things happen when we stop seeing one another as human beings. We alter our worlds to match our skewed reality, and we stop being honest with ourselves to justify our own behavior.

But that isn't really where I meant to wander off to this midnight hour. I wanted to say that really important things pass through my mind these days. Things like finding the perfect double stroller. I boldly stop parents pushing favorable strollers and ask their opinions. This has been going on since week 6 or so, and 11 weeks of querying parents has led me to this conclusion: The perfect stroller is located here - http://www.babyjogger.com/city_mini_dbl_dtl.aspx

I believe that this is the stroller destined to allow me to navigate through normal sized doors and not make me look like a freak show. Cute, no? I haven't decided on a color, maybe the green, but you get the idea. Thank you kind woman at the mall for doing all of the research to find this for me, er, I mean your children. I can now sleep at night knowing that I won't have to lug around a monstrosity to be a functional human being with my little dumplings as they try out their harmonious little vocal cords in public places.

Speaking of sleep, I think I ought to.

Trouble with a Capital T and that Rhymes with P and that Stands for Pool!

2011-07-26T02:05:00.000-07:00

Yesterday started out a bit troublesome for me. I started work in a bit of a fog, feeling discouraged about my inability to crack into a rather massive organization for some data acquisition. I had made repeated attempts to reach what I thought were key individuals, only to receive no response. C prepared for a bicycle ride while I prepared for a a quick drive to step away from work momentarily. I had just sent an e-mail to the organizational contact, and while driving, made yet another attempt to contact this individual by phone. I left a message, and a few minutes later I finally received the much anticipated return phone call!

The rest of the day flew by as I prepared a proposal for said organization. C returned from his ride to point out that I had worked the entire day away and now it was time do something fun. After checking to make sure that my belly still fit into my swimsuit, we went to the pool. I have relied quite heavily on non-aquatic exercise for years. My body has always been far from buoyant, so swimming requires extra effort. I discovered yesterday that I have developed an aversion to putting my face under water, so I focused on the breast stroke rather than my beloved back strokes. By the end of my workout I felt much better about breathing while swimming face-down.

After our swim we raced home to shower and were soon off for soup and salad at the Olive Garden. Zuppa Toscana, baby! Happy doesn't quite capture the emotions that pulse through my veins lately. It is almost unreal. Life isn't always happy, but it's these times that make you remember how worthwhile the hard times are, because your capacity to feel joy is so much greater! I love my adorable husband. He is just so good to me!

Oh, and lest you miss my late night mini-post: http://recursively.blogspot.com/2011/07/to-those-who-have-recently-commented.html

To those who have recently commented...

2011-07-25T20:39:00.000-07:00

First, thank you for your kind and generous comments. While I am not out to become the most popular blogger, I so appreciate your expressions of friendship. Thank you. I have not been the best lately at replying, but thank you, and please don't stop. That's all. I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you!

Temples

2011-07-24T15:06:00.000-07:00

C and I have made a point of going to the temple on a regular basis lately. There is surprisingly a lot of drama and commotion externally about such very peaceful places. I think much of it is drummed up by those who don't understand the purpose of a temple, or who have been offended because they didn't get to go inside to observe the wedding of a loved one.

When you visit a temple, you wear nice clothing. Men wear white shirts, ties, and weather permitting, suitcoats. Women wear nice and modest skirts, shirts, or dresses and I personally always wear nylons and dress shoes rather than sandals or flip-flops. Each person who is admitted to a temple has a small slip of paper with three signatures including their own, stating that they feel worthy to enter. The other two signatures are from church leaders who ask several questions to the person who wants to enter the temple. This isn't to exclude anyone, rather to make sure that all entering are worthy to be in the presence of God since temples are dedicated to Him and are sacred.

In truth, anyone may enter a temple. They just must first agree to live a life of high moral and ethical standards. People make mistakes, and so they are given time to repent or stop acting on immoral behaviors, and then they too may enter the temple. In truth, it is one of the most inclusive religious organizations, encouraging all to live honest, clean, and moral lives.

When you enter a temple, you change out of your street clothing and into clothing of pure white in individual private locker areas. Everyone is esteemed as an equal, and nobody is treated disrespectfully or as inferior to anyone else. There are sacred things we learn in temples, most of which are right out of the scriptures from the time that ancient Israelites built temples in which they also worshipped God.

Contrary to some rumors I have heard from others, absolutely nothing immoral or sexual happens in temples. Everyone is dressed very modestly and the building is filled with light and beauty. There is another type of light that fills a temple, and that is a spiritual light. It also fills your heart and mind with peace and beauty just like the temple is filled with light and beauty. It isn't a loud place. Everyone speaks in barely audible whispers if they speak at all. It is a place of contemplation, a place where you can come with questions in your mind, and have the answers to those questions flow into your mind before you leave.

No one listens to iPods or talks on mobile phones inside. In fact, these devices are not permitted inside. The only books you will find are the holy scriptures. It is a haven, a sanctuary from the distractions of everyday life. It is a place of calm and kindness. It is the house of God.

Private Dance Club

2011-07-23T14:39:00.000-07:00

My grandparents used to own a private ballroom dancing club in Florida. It was quite the social arena, full of exciting events and country club members. I feel we have followed suite in some small way. Our kitchen is our private dance club. C and I often turn up our Mint and boogie to some high-energy tunes. Today I thought I'd share a bit of my let-loose side today. I tried to find a benign video of some of our jammin' tunes:

No jam session would be proper without Kung Fu Fighting, only I couldn't find my favorite version on YouTube, so just look up the Biggest Loser Workout version on iTunes. Enjoy!

Make My Arms Longer, Please?

2011-07-22T05:52:00.000-07:00

I am of the opinion that, along with all of the other changes that come with pregnancy, one's arms should grow in length 2-4 inches, returning to their former length following childbirth.

I felt them kick on Sunday. I am sure I felt them before, only there was no question on Sunday. It was like a little jab, and I can imagine that it will feel more like a punch later on when they are bigger than five inches. I also dreamed that they were born. C and I were lying in bed, and they were there, small and new. I woke up feeling like I would burst with happiness.

I am hitting the stage of, "Now I've got them inside of me, I will at some point have to get them out." There are many interesting thoughts that follow that vein, and so many unknowns. I start thinking about birthing classes, and wondering if reading all of those books will really help. Will they be in position to come naturally, or will I have to undergo surgery? Will they weigh enough that we will get to bring them home, or will they have to continue baking in some incubator?

Exercise is proven to increase birth weight, which is an odd thing to wish for when you are eager to birth two babies without the doctor touching a scalpel. Still, exercise I will. "Strengthen your abs and your back so that you won't have problems later." I was told. I am still doing Jillian workouts with a few adjustments. Sometimes I use my knees during push-ups/planks, and getting up and down between circuit work requires slow motion. Supermans are out, and I can't plyo quite as intensely. Occasionally I have to pause to catch my breath since three of us are competing for my oxygen. Yesterday I did 30 minutes of circuit work, 15 minutes walking briskly on an 8.5 incline, 15 minutes running, and 15 minutes doing back exercises.

I finally found my salad groove again, and have been able to eat more veggies. My main crave so far has been fresh fruit, but eating more vegetables feels great. We gave Kawi a huge romaine leaf yesterday and C captured it on his Blackberry. I think he likes it when we eat more veggies, too.

I am dying to SHOP for baby things, but I have this little problem: We still don't have the gender verified. Today I am at exactly 17 weeks, so just three more weeks to go before we know! I did discover something fabulous last night: my new sewing machine will do applique! Custom Onesies, baby! It also sews on buttons, although the 10-step process makes me think that a hand-stitch will be much faster.

Work is going great. I feel I am able to strike a good balance between work and life without work taking over. There is plenty to do, but prioritization means that managing the affiliate relationship always takes precedence. I have made more trips to FedEx this month than I have my entire life, over-nighting urgent data. I took my old team out to lunch this past week which was delightful. They asked questions about my new company and I think I changed several misconceptions. I love the un-corporate world. My new job takes everything good about my old job and magnifies those elements 100x.

Speaking of a balanced life, in addition to cozy hammock time and blueberry pancake Fridays, C and I have been venturing out on summer evenings to enjoy 4th of July celebrations, dinner with friends, birthday parties and most recently, professional sporting events. I recently managed to get front row tickets to a baseball game, and even the bench seating at the soccer game was thrilling! Saturday may include an early jaunt to the farmer's market, followed by a baptism at 11:00 AM.

The Problem with Social Media

2011-07-21T06:45:00.000-07:00

I visited my old job this past week to drop off a "thank you" to someone who has helped my new company with an affiliate relationship. When I left the company a couple of months ago, I had several individuals approach me with interest in positions since they knew that I was being placed on the executive team as a director. Apparently some reached out to me through LinkedIn which I haven't touched since I left my old job (mainly because I forgot to change my e-mail account and don't receive any of the notifications). I ran into one such individual, who tearfully told me that said individual thought I didn't want to be friends because I didn't respond in the affirmative. SIGH.

Some feel that social media is a great way to manage relationships, but to be honest, nothing fosters relationships like personal interaction. There is so much more to communication than words, and so much more to gaining common understanding than leaving a note on someone's wall or blog. People are dynamic, complicated and wonderful, and software, no matter how great or user friendly, can never replace laughter with an LOL, can never give a hug when a friend's heart is breaking, can never replace a night out with friends, and can never offer fellowship like a brief visit from an old companion who knows you well.

Dear Google lovers, cover your ears:
I am also put out with Blogger/Google these days, claiming that I could permanently lose access to my account if I don't give them my phone number. What's next, my SSN? Seriously, your prying tentacles reach far enough as it is, Google, you marketing octopus. Plus nothing, except to gather more data that you can sell companies about me. "My Un-Touched" new Android phone dwells in a lonely closet because you require me to share every detail with you in order to use the dang thing. I won't dispute that Chrome is very usable and splendid, and yes, many of your products are super nifty, but seriously...

Words from a Wise Husband

2011-07-16T17:36:00.000-07:00

"There are three things you have to remember," he said, after listening to me ponder out loud the rate of my exuberant weight gain.

"First, you are going to put on weight, and you shouldn't worry about it. You eat healthy and you take good care of yourself. Second, it will take you twice as long to take the weight off as it took to put it on. Your age makes it a little more challenging to take weight off than it would if you were a twenty-year old. Third, you will lose all of the weight you put on."

I thought about his words of wisdom with gratitude, then eagerly added, "Because I have a great husband who will make sure I get a break from the twins to get a workout in."

"That's right," he said.

5 AM

2011-07-16T05:07:00.000-07:00

5 AM is a strange hour. We've all met it for some reason or another, and some more frequently than others. You wake to find the moonlight swimming through the sky, merrily tossing long pale rays through windows and doors and dreaming that its rays could reach in to lap sleep from the eyes of the slumbering soul like its undeniably brighter counterpart. Indeed, its silent efforts are seen by few. Those who wake by moonlight in the summertime are not hastened on their course by its gentle hand, but wake against the silence of a world that would lull them back to sleep.

These days I am most grateful if I can wake only once or twice during the night, rather than seven or eight times, so waking at 5 AM after six hours of sleep seems strangely restful, despite that my body is now the ever depleted garden in which two tiny souls are growing. During the day I munch on gummy vitamins to supplement my prenatal so that I can get a bit more nourishment. My fridge is constantly stocked with fresh fruit of every kind: melons, orchard fruit, berries, tropical fruits and more. It's my constant craving. I often wish that I craved more salads, but alas, spring greens and spinach, while ranking high above fried foods, are the least on my list of pleasant foods at the moment.

With a much smaller pharmaceutical selection these days, I am most grateful for the following items that have helped me navigate the otherwise challenging waters of pregnancy:

Zofran - or the generic version. It helped me survive morning sickness, and I have now been off for a solid week!
Senna - to counteract the less-than-desirable effects of Zofran (plums and similar items are most helpful, too).
Saline spray - when I wake unable to breathe, this is far better than an antihistamine (forbidden) these days.
Tylenol - I had ruled this out as a qualified pain killer, but it has come in handy a time or two.
My sister - After an ultrasound on my gallbladder, two bottles of tums (salicyliates forbidden), and a Dr's visit, my sister told me she'd had the same problem I was having and told me I needed something to coat my stomach while pregnant.
Carafate - Ahhhh. Alas, relief from stomach pain! This lovely baby-safe glue coats my stomach like a shield. It could mend at last! Sucrafate does the same, according to the nice pharmacist man. No more jalapenos, broccoli, or Indian food for a while... :(
Two showers a day - for the workout I seem to be doing by merely sitting in a chair. Who knew I had sweat glands that work when I am not hitting the gym?
Dr. Pepper - because Rx migraine meds and babies don't mix, and it tastes yummy, too.

Trouble on the Frontier

2011-07-13T00:40:00.000-07:00

Owning a bird seems simple. You put food in the food tray and water in the water tray, and the bird sits in its cage and sings, right? Wrong. The truth is, when you get a handfed baby bird, it imprints on you and thinks you should never, ever be out of sight. It thinks that it belongs on your shoulder while you sleep, sweep, cook, clean, talk with friends, and when it gets jealous, it does something drastic so that you will pay attention to it. It longingly watches out of the window while you mow the lawn or shovel the walks. It would rather be with you than eat, sleep, or drink.

Most of us don't even consider the possibility of bonding with a bird because they surround us every day. They poop on our cars, they pick carrion in the middle of the road, and they certainly don't cuddle.

We have two very unique little birds. When you place one beside the other, it becomes very apparent how unique their personalities are. Take for instance a little habit that Kawi has had for years of shredding a single piece of toilet paper into tiny little balls. He is so meticulous and careful that it is really quite impressive how consistent the results turn out:

Now take Penny. She was still a baby when she met Kawi and decided that she, too, should shred toilet paper, however, she does so in a slightly less delicate fashion:

Birds are very sensitive to sound and sight. Every noise you make holds some meaning. That bright red fingernail polish turns beloved fingers into a foreign object.

This past weekend we moved Kawi from the room he has occupied for the past three years. After his first night in this new room, Kawi woke in a terrible fright and thrashed in his cage until C took him out. He must have hurt himself because for the next few days, he was the most tender and loving bird in all of the world, craving at every instance a head scratch, and not biting us to let us know he was finished with our affection.

I know it sounds lovely, but this simply wasn't our Kawi. At last he is starting to come back around and regretfully is back to his old ways. Penny handled the move like a champ, but Kawi is still adapting to us moving him out of the newly designated baby room. Sigh. Can't wait until December...

Semantics and Social Graces

2011-07-11T03:36:00.000-07:00

Years ago I worked for a gunsmith. It was a temporary gig that I did as a favor to my husband, who was eager to see his friend successful. Despite this man's lack of skill in managing his business, the gunsmith was highly successful at one thing: getting into his customer's heads.

If someone came into his shop and asked for a softer trigger, the gunsmith played 20 Questions with the customer until he could confidently define what the term "softer" meant for that specific customer. This semantic investigation allowed him to get the job done right the first time, and even though this took him months or even years to get around to, his customers (navy seals and other specialty military personnel) were very pleased with the final outcome.

From this experience I learned that we all have very different definitions of clearly defined words. Confidential is another term that I have learned has a wide variety of meanings for various individuals. I interpret this to mean, "Please don't share this," and my brain makes it just go away. I take that request seriously.

Trust is a rare commodity in this world, and even if I am not able to offer any other gift, it is something I have learned to be quite competent at over the years. If there is any question in my mind, I will ask, "Is it okay if I tell...?" If the grantor of said confidential information say no, then I won't share it. Oddly, everyone's definition of confidential is so vastly different that I now take complete responsibility when someone breaks my trust, knowing that I should have known better in the first place.

Over the years of being a childless soul, I have had great insurance. I occasionally required medical procedures like scans from banging my head down down icey cement stairs. I have also had ultrasounds on various parts of my body. It never occurred to me personally that the term "ultrasound" would be isolated to prenatal use only.

For the past month I have had persistent pain just below my rib cage in the location where the gall-bladder sits. Not once did I think, "It must be a problem with the babies." I knew when it started, and I knew that it was far away enough from the babies that it was something different. Since radiation isn't an option when you are pregnant, I finally went in for an ultrasound on the area when the pain took me down in tears.

I missed church last week to rest (since the pain doesn't allow me to sleep), and mentioned to someone that I'd had an ultrasound on the area. Little did I know that this translated in several minds to "problems with the babies." Today my most beloved pointed out my faux pas in using the term "ultrasound." It had never occurred to me that someone would take what I said to mean that there were baby problems, but that's semantics for you.

Finally, I have been astounded to find the variety of individual interpretations of social graces. I was raised in a home where certain topics were considered socially taboo. We were taught, for instance, never to ask someone's age, income, or intimate details of their lives. Having received questions in all of the above categories from friends, associates, and even complete strangers, I have come to the conclusion that social graces fall under the class of rapidly disappearing virtues. I am not sure what the fascination is with needing to know personal details of one's neighbors or associates. Whatever the cause, it makes me cherish ever more those individuals who are endowed with such attributes as social graces and restraint.

Disclaimer: I did take all of the above photographs, under personal copyright. During my time working with this gunsmith I learned a great appreciation for the meaning behind the most simple word, the art of fine weapon craftsmanship and among other things, the value of epoxy impregnated glass grips in desert environments.

**If the beauty of the above weapons doesn't fit your personal tastes, perhaps these will be more to your liking:

Speed of the Leader, Speed of the Team

2011-07-02T07:14:00.000-07:00

Last week something happened at work. When I came on board with this new company, I told the CEO that I was expecting. I explained how important trust was to me, and that we weren't quite ready to announce. When he was asked if I was pregnant during an offsite, he flatly said that he didn't know what the person was talking about.

I have had several very different experiences with other leaders who were not so bound to maintaining trust, but this one is different. I have never heard him speak unkindly to anyone or about anyone. He is a man of integrity who leads with a positive energy and a quiet confidence. I have never experienced him trying to peacock his intelligence, but that isn't because he couldn't. I have never experienced him belittling someone in front of others. His employees don't rush around in fear, they rush around and work hard because they are eager to be their very best. It's so refreshing. It makes you want to be the best you can be.

Employees aren't called on the carpet for being unprofessional. They let their personalities shine and everyone can just be themselves. They can even list how many bottles of propel they drank over the last 3 months in an official company report. They can make mistakes, own them, laugh at them, and move on. I am loving the un-corporate environment. I don't have to change who I am or worry about how I am doing. I just want to be the best I can be.

There is still some left-over corporate rub that I am shedding, but another member of the executive team told me about her work at LinkedIn. It was a similar environment, but required her to let go of the corporate environment to fit in. Sometimes I wake up at night stressed, a leftover from my previous job, and then I laugh that it's okay. I have an amazing husband, an amazing job, an amazing life, and no reason for stress!

Pride begets pride. Humility begets humility. A great leader begets other great leaders that are constantly raising their own personal standards to want to keep up, and they do it quietly and powerfully.

Not-A-Mommy Blogger

2011-06-30T06:22:00.000-07:00

While I was running my big new technology conference this year, I met the founders of Mommy Bloggers. They were very sweet ladies, and encouraged me to join the movement. I frankly said, "Well, that won't work. I have no children." For perhaps the first time in their mommy-blogging lives, the realization hit them that the very name of their movement was not all-inclusive.

I didn't feel badly about this exclusion from the mommy blogging circle, nor did I dwell on that fact. I didn't start blogging because I was a mommy, nor I didn't start blogging because I couldn't have children. I started blogging because I love to write.

I say this with no (NO) criticism toward mommy bloggers. I think the majority of humans believe that motherhood is noble and necessary, and good grief, where would the world be without the careful production of human beings? It's a critical (non-optional) industry that requires great time, effort, and frankly, we have all benefited from the production of a quality human being and have suffered at the production of a damaged, broken human being.

I don't believe that day care facilities can ever come anywhere close to the watchful eyes of an invested mother. Who cares whether the children came out of her body or not! I obviously don't believe that motherhood is merely defined by getting a swollen belly and laboring for several hours either. The real labor comes in the development of that child.

While I deem the efforts of mommy bloggers noble and commendable, it will not be the sole topic of my blog. I own little birds, and I do write about them. I am married and I write about my prince charming without apology. I will eventually have two little humans to care for, and I am sure I will write about them. I will write about anything that I deem beautiful and interesting and intriguing just like I do now, seasoned and marinated in my unique mix of tasty words and spicy opinions.

I guess I just wanted to make that clear.

Unter der Linde

2011-06-28T08:08:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite German poems is Unter der Linde. Whenever I hear someone describe the German language as "ugly" or "harsh," I muse at their ignorance, for they have never read the words of Walther von der Vogelweide, Goethe, Friedrich Schiller, or Eichendorff.

The poem, written by minstrel Vogelweide, describes an interchange between two lovers beneath a Linden tree, espied only by a "little bird" hidden within its branches. The "little bird" referenced Vogelweide himself; the German word for bird being "Vogel."

On these beautiful early summer evenings, we frequently toss a blanket on the grass under one of the apple trees. Our Penny purrs in delight as we set her amidst the branches, where she deems it her sworn duty to hastily clear every branch of leaves in rapid-fire succession. We lie on the blanket amidst a shower of leaves while Kawi transforms into that angel we knew in times past, begging for a head scratch, eager to learn a new word or song.

Occasionally Kawi musters up the confidence to sit aloft among the branches with Penny, crying for backup when one too many doves or sparrows flies in for closer inspection. For the most part, they are quite content as long as they can keep an eye on us, the lovers Under der Linde.

On Pre-Motherhood

2011-06-24T18:58:00.000-07:00

When you have waited as long as I have to have children, even 16 diapers a day sounds like a reasonable way to spend your time. You cherish things like morning sickness because you just feel so lucky to experience it at all. You cherish every little step along the way, and think, if I only ever get to hear that heart beating and then it all goes awry, I will count myself immensely blessed. You look at those tiny faces and recognize something familiar. You promise yourself that any tragedy to follow will be worth these precious moments of watching tiny hands lifted to tiny faces and tiny legs kicking wildly inside of you.

You count every step, every ache, every 30th trip to the bathroom a blessing because you don't know how it will all turn out, and you don't know if you will ever travel this road. You look at your swelling body and love it, you listen to your asthmatic breathing and embrace it. You are in awe that you get to even experience for a moment this wistful dream that so many take for granted. You choose it all, you embrace it, you cherish it. It isn't a burden; it's an honor.

Ahem. I have something important to say... via Text Message:

2011-06-23T22:54:00.000-07:00

Chivalrous C has never left the toilet seats up in our house, but now he has started closing the lids as well. I am not sure if he is concerned about alligators climbing out of them, or two little curious birds trying to take baths in them...

The most important news should always arrive via Text Message, didn't ya know?
Texts between C and his mom:

C: We are pregnant.

K: April fools?

C: Nope, it's not April 1st.

K: Can you tell that I'm always guarded?

C: I don't blame you. But this is fo real. I put it on Jesus!:)

K: Well that's just about the best news since I was engaged to S!

C: Yea! We are very happy. But A and I are only telling grandma and spouse. We believe we are only a few weeks along and have an apt to check heart beat etc in a couple of weeks. Once we are there we will let everyone know!:) Just don't want to jump the gun, ya know. So please no calls, facebook, etc. for now. :)

K: Way to go JESUS! We've prayed a lot too. Must have been the Primary calling. Our entire presidency was preg at the same time. Pres had twins.

C: Jesus is cool. Thx for the prayers. Now we pray for health!

K: You got it! Just more prayers. WOW!

C: Crap, now I have to be responsible and stuff.

K: Ha ha ha! Bout time you have your own to worry about!

C: Just happy to have someone to mow the lawn. I'll start him/her early. Years to make up!:) Prob need to put a booster on the mower.

K: Give A a big hug for us and take good care of her. Good timing for Mom's Day!

C: Ok will do. I'll keep you posted. As soon as we know I'll let you know. Thx. Love you.

K: You'll be the booster.

C: :)

K: Love you too. Good night. FINALLY A GRANDKID IN [State where we live]!!!

3 months shy of 12 years trying.
One big belly that will get MUCH bigger.
2 little squirrely peaches in a basket with long skinny legs.
2 very grateful parents who never gave up hope, and a whole bunch of other happy people to boot.
1 grandpa who wasn't allowed to tell anyone for the past month, so he shouted out of the car window on the freeway, "I'm gonna be a grandpa of TWINS!"

Please Fasten Your Seatbelts...

2011-06-15T06:55:00.000-07:00

You arrive at the airport with thirty minutes prior to boarding rather than the proposed 60-90 minutes because you have failed to take into account the hoards of summer vacationers who will be flying with you. The security line stretches almost all of the way to the outside doors, but you jump in the shorter line with peace in your heart that it is the right one. Fortunately you were right, but the couple standing in the line next to you suddenly realizes that the line they have been standing in for 20 minutes is the wrong line and the frustrated woman cries, "I hate my horrible life!" with all of the gusto her drama queen self can muster. Golden-ticket holders whiz past to the front of the line carrying car seats and little ones, passing even the preferred business travelers.

As you approach the TSA agent, you whip out your electronic ticket, conveniently located on your smart phone which the agent scans while you eye the lines to see which one you may get into to avoid the full-body scanner. Alas, the line ahead includes the metal detector only. You divide shoes and laptop into bins beside your minimalist luggage, and in moments you are on your way, but the man in front of you left one of his bags on the belt and has to go through the entire process twice.

At the gate, you ask for an emergency seat for the extra legroom, only to later realize that the commuter plane you are on has treated every seat on the plane fairly, and your hopes for extra space are diminished. As you board, you hope that you will not have the honor of sitting beside IOUSes nor IOUSSes. As with ROUSes (Rodents of Unusual Size, as per Princess Bride), IOUSes (ndividuals of Unusual Size) does not refer to weight or health status, rather to the fact that the individual beside you exceeds the space limitations that some tiny little human likely defined as the "normal" seat size that should accommodate every human being on the earth. Oddly, this same person also determined that if you have the ability to pay for your ticket twice, you require significantly more space, because we all should know that those who have no money should somehow be much smaller than those who have money to spare.

IOUSSes can double in meaning to define Individuals of Unusually Sickly Status, or Individuals of Unusually Strong Scent. While my quest for pure charity should one day diminish my awareness of IOUSes and IOUSSes, somehow my mortally flawed self is keenly aware of their existence at present.

Taking your seat on the plane, you are presented in the front seat pocket with a magazine containing everything your heart has never ever desired. These exorbitantly priced items under any other circumstances would never find their way onto a weekly shopping list . However, somewhere between the moment you up open the magazine and the moment you land, your mind has determined that one or more of these items are essential, yea, even critical to obtain, and have somehow morphed into items worthy of the absurdly high prices attached to them.

Some even go so far as to tear a page out of the magazine despite the fact that the cover clearly reads "Take this with you. We'll replace it." The even more mysterious part lies in the fact that as soon as you've raised your body out of the seat to proceed off of the plane, you immediately forget the urgency of purchasing said item despite the fact that you have a torn remnant of a magazine in your shirt pocket.

If you are fortunate, you will have the pleasure of meeting colorful individuals like the Maverick Mom, a young new mother who announced to the world her maternal paternity with gusto:

While waiting to board the plane the Maverick Mom proudly spread out her motherhood paraphernalia: a baby book complete with a sheet of notes detailing how she would implement her newfound knowledge, a breast pump, a picture of her baby, and a phonecall that identified her as the mother of a young child who was much to young to understand her as she explained that she was coming home today.

I sat down on the plane and pulled out the Economist for some enlightened reading as the flight attendant buttoned down the overhead bins with her beauty pageant smile and grace. I glanced toward the woman sitting across the aisle to my left, curious to see if she would continue to ostentatiously broadcast her motherly status to those who may have missed this fact while sitting in the waiting area.

The flight attendant had just announced that all electronics should be stowed, and walked through to verify that her instructions were followed. She innocently walked up to the mom, and asked the woman what the electronic device on her lap was. I could read the writing on the wall several moments before the lovely young attendant approached the woman. "It's a breast pump," the maverick mother declared as every man within earshot turned shamelessly to stare for the remainder of the conversation.

"Is it an electronic device?" asked the ill-informed attendant, oblivious to the attention she had recruited. The mother said that it was, and was encouraged to stow the item. The mother then asked if she could use it once in the air, to which the attendant replied that she could without a single disruption of her pageant smile. Once in the air, maverick mom whipped out said pump and pumped away while indiscreet men tried to catch a glimpse of this unique spectacle. She came prepared with a cover cloth, but this did not deter prying eyes.

The poor man beside her was obviously uncomfortable and smashed himself against the window while he tried to bury his eyes in a book as she covered and uncovered, tucked and adjusted, kicked her head back and sighed loudly. Kudos to her for her boldness, I say. I have no actual reference point, so I cannot speak expertly on this, but would assume that this very short flight likely did not merit this in-flight process that could have reasonably preceded or followed the flight. Still, the mother was undaunted in her valiant oath to La Leche League (which really teaches that when you have the baby WITH you, you shouldn't let the poor darling starve, but to each her own).

Mormon Sexting

2011-06-10T10:00:00.000-07:00

I am going to admit it. I am kind of annoyed with Facebook. I only signed up for work networking purposes, but it is like the camel who started with his nose in the tent and gradually creeps in tip-to-tail. During my time off I have been vacationing from Facebook, mainly because I don't really find it something I want to do when I have time off.

A few days ago, I received a text message from C. The conversation went something like this:

Day 1, Mormon Sexting:
C: Sexting...
A: ?
C: I'm just sexting you. I hear it's all the rage. Enjoy! Sexting...
A: Right. I have an inkling, my lord, that you are supposed to do something more than text the word "Sexting," but I'll let you know when I figure it out.
C: ;)
A: Bean n cheese burrito with green sauce @ Del Taco hit the spot!!!
C: Nice! You make me hungry.
A: I can do better than that. $.99 baby! Soft, fresh tortillas, smooth beans, perfect texture with sweet melted cheese... A hint of spice from the green sauce...
C: You should work for Del Taco!

Day 2, Mormon Sexting:
A: Took the big lasagne to the Williams.
C: :-o
A: Just when you think you have a big lasagne, your wife up and gives it away!!!

Day 3, Mormon Sexting:
A: Missing my hot sexy man already. Can't wait to spend time with you! [X-men tonight, baby!]
C: You're so cute!
A: awe, shucks! Blush.
C: This is called, Mormon sexting! Cutie pie!
A: Costco has fresh copper river salmon!!! And cherries, so I am a happy girl!
C: Yes! Fish is good, hot stuff (more sexting). Only a few more hours until movie time my peaches and cream! (Sexting)
A: Can't wait for all of that action, baby! [X-men] See you in two hrs or less! Salmon and melon balls will be waiting, my hard working man! (sexting)

If you still don't get it, go find a Mormon and talk to them for a while. It won't take long to figure it out. Oh, and in case you were wondering, X-Men was very well done. The development of the characters and plot was very well executed with depth, and holy cow, did Kevin Bacon (?!) do a great job! While X-Men movies are never without their share of violence, the only blood I think you see is at the very end. They hit all of the "loose ends" like how Xavier winds up in a wheel chair, and how Mystique winds up with such loyalty to Magneto.

Do I totally sound like an X-Men nerd? Yeah, I guess I am. There are very few fictional genres out there that inject depth into their characters. Examples of shallow characters? Twilight and Harry Potter immediately come to mind. They do sort of a glossed-over shallow dip into their character's past that gives the illusion of depth, but if you try to search for a multifaceted dynamic within those individuals that allows you to look deep into their hearts and minds, you simply won't find it.

Perhaps it is the fact that rather than allegorical writing, X-Men utilizes historical events like the Cuban Missile Crisis and the Holocaust and weaves the characters into these events to develop a sense of grounding despite the obvious disparity between reality and fiction. Tolkien did the same thing, only he wrote the entirety of the historical setting on his own over the span of many years. It allowed the characters to reach deep into the past and allowed Tolkien to journey for many years in his imaginary world while captivating readers young and old through story and song.

And thus ends my passionate discourse on well-written fiction. Adieu.

Come to Zions, Come to Zions...

2011-06-08T10:16:00.000-07:00

Life is sweet. There are some stretches of the journey when you just wonder how you managed to get to this point, with all of its glorious vistas and unmeasurable joys. "We are going to be the cutest old couple, with little witty jabs here and there." C said as we ascended the 75 degree four mile incline. There are few things that C says make me completely melt inside with happiness, but this one did. We laughed our way to the top of some of the most difficult climbs in Zions National Park, me somewhat breathless, but glad I had made the effort.

The first time we climbed Angel's Landing years ago, C looked out over the blade of stone we would bridge to the other side, clung tightly to me and said, "Don't fall! I don't want to lose you!" I think I laughed, not because I didn't appreciate his tenderness, but because his fear of heights suddenly revealed his over-protective side. My brazen fearlessness of heights will no doubt be answered with me someday having a child just like me, scrambling on sandstone at age five, and climbing anything within sight long before that.

Since that first Angel's Landing ascent, C has climbed it several times, and has courageously stared his fear of heights in the eye on countless occasions. "But I wouldn't have done all of those things if it wasn't for you!" He told me on this trip. Once again, I had to gather my puddle-like self off of the ground. Wow. When did he get so good at turning me into mush?

At the top of one climb, we enjoyed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on wheat that I had made before we left, and on the next climb we dined on Breton wheat crackers with crisp Braeburn apples and Jamaican No Woman cheese. What is it about long, exhausting climbs that makes you think that meal at the top is the best food you have eaten in your entire life?

I wish I could remember all of the funny things C said and did along the way. He made fun of my need to stay well abreast of those dorky hikers who use ski poles on cement trails. CLANK, CLANK, CLANK, echoing through wind-sculpted canyons of pink and white sandstone. Who wants to hear that in a breathtaking place like Zions? Could that kind of frustration be defined as trail rage, or just a purist mentality?

My big toes (clad in my cute minimalist Merrells shoes) started to blister near the end of Observation Point (8 miles, ~75% grade), and C was my hero. I was so worn out, but he kept me going despite my kamikaze attempts to run down the mountain the rest of the way just to make the last few switchbacks go by faster.

I was so impressed that with such a large number of visitors, beautiful flowers and cacti grew around or even right on the trails! My deepest admiration to the many respectful visitors from around the world who enjoyed the park without leaving their mark behind! Okay, that respect was then challenged on our final hike, the upper Emerald Pools...

Quiz: Which of the following did C&A observe on their way to the upper Emerald Pools?
A. A little boy proudly showing off his kidnapped blue-belly lizard, oblivious to the $150.00 fine attached to it.
B. A little girl pouting because her grandma did not appreciate the illegal bouquet of wildflowers she had picked for her.
C. A mature gentle(?) man who crossed the forbidden barrier at middle Emerald Pool.
D. A troop of little girls with mud streaked on their faces like warpaint who proudly declared, "We're CANADIANS!!!"
E. A man peeing in the bushes just before a group of kiddies rounded the corner.
F. A Park Ranger on the trail who may or may not have encountered the little boy with the lizard.
G. A woman stumbling around on the trail as if she'd had WAY too much to drink.
H. A woman walking the trails with her unleashed dog who then fibbed to the shuttle driver to get the dog on the shuttle bus.
I. A little boy proudly declaring that there were frogs that sounded like goats just up ahead.
J. A bunch of frogs that really DID sound like goats.
K. C&A saw all of the above, and every item listed above C&A saw along the way was done by Americans, minus the boy who informed them about the goat-frogs. What is it about those Americans?

I will leave you with this last memento:

Last DAAAAAAYYYY!!!!

2011-06-01T01:24:00.000-07:00

Today was my last day at work. I say last day, but it's more like last 24 hours at work, considering that I was up most of the night transferring files, and then came home AFTER my last day of work to put the finishing touches on the business plan, but tonight at 9 PM I sent off the business plan and was truly finished! Earlier when I left work I stopped to see my cuddle-buddy at his job. I think his laugh is the most wonderful thing in the world. I just keep falling in love with that guy and I can't get up!

Oh, the bliss. My little birdies took a nap with me when I came home before I dragged out my computer long enough to finish the BP. I was hoping to finish before C arrived home because I knew I would get scolded. "You are STILL working, and I HUGGED YOU?" Shame on me, but I feel done now, which is the most important part. I now have this time, precious time to be FREE! I must be careful with it, or else it will vanish in no time and I will be working once again.

I feel so happy, despite my obvious insomnia at the moment. I never thought I would get through all of that work. And that's all I am going to say about that.

What's next, you ask? To avoid becoming a work-a-holic at my next job is what. Balance, harmony, all of that kind of thing. So I bet you are wondering why I am awake at 2 AM? Dr. Pepper is what. I have this grand old headache, and can you believe that the Doc prescribed a caffeinated cola? True story. What was I thinking. The headache is better, however.

This weekend we visited my grandparents and great-grandparents graves. I know Memorial Day is just another holiday for some, but we really do try to use it as intended, even if many of our interred relatives are far away. I love visiting that cemetery because Western Tanagers swarm like bees in the huge pine trees overhead. It's like a little piece of eternity to see so many of these rare beauties in one place. Of course I have told C that should I die before him, I would send a yellow bird to let him know I was not too far away.

Tomorrow I think I will begin adding photos again, or at least in my next post. I just needed to mourn the loss of my photo space on blogger. I guess that's what happens when you have a photo food blog, a regular blog, and a photo fun blog all under one username. That space gets eaten up pretty quickly.

Can you believe it? I am taking a vacation and don't have any work assignments to think about! What glorious things could I awake in this imaginative mind of mine? I think of all of the books I could work on... decisions, decisions... Darn. Still not tired. I could:

A. Go lie in bed until C wakes up and tells me that I am thinking too loudly.
B. Play an hour long puzzle game on BigFish.com.
C. Work on my church talk.
D. Write in my journal all of the top secret things that I can't say here.
E. File paperwork in my home office.

I guess cleaning the house right now is out of the question, lest I wake bird and beloved. "C" probably has the best shot at lulling me back to sleep, but hopefully I won't lull everyone else to sleep with my talk. Tomorrow the fun begins.

When Phlox Takes Over

2011-05-28T21:07:00.000-07:00

I woke this morning determined to spend some time in the yard, hopeful that rain would not spoil my plans. After a breakfast of whole wheat crepes filled with fresh blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries, I donned some comfy clothes and ran to the store to pick up a few items including some Alyssum and some grass and begonias for my porch planters.

I quickly packed away the groceries, enjoyed a lunch of lemon Stilton and blueberry Stilton wedges, and dove into my flowerbed. I tied back my bleeding heart, training it upward rather than outward, and then started removing plants that had started to define their own space. I trimmed back the hostas, removed several ostrich fern stray children, and divided the blue, pink, and white Phlox in half. Phlox is one of those beautiful plants that delves deep into the soil. It says, "What's this, space? For me? Don't mind if I do!" You know their kind.

A plant-loving friend obliged me by taking on my castaway ferns, Phlox, and a few other items. She is one of those free-spirit gardeners who loves to just let things grow how they will. As I trimmed back the Irish moss and split and moved half of dwarf king's heart to another part of the bed, I thought about my carefully manicured garden and recalled a day when overgrowth to me was perfection.

Why control growth? As I Bonsai-shaped my lace Japanese maple tree, I thought about the yard of my childhood filled with wild grasses and unmaintained trees. I thought it was the most beautiful place on earth. I now believe there is a place for both philosophies. I must confess that Japanese gardens are most glorious and beautiful to me, because things are placed with such attentive detail that they grow into something that magnifies its natural beauty beyond anything it could achieve on its own. While we all need some freedom to become what we want to, we cannot truly achieve our full potential unless we are guided, pruned, and nourished in certain areas of our lives.

Late-Night Stream of Consciousness

2011-05-27T23:24:00.000-07:00

Sometimes in the middle of the night, my mind chatters so loudly, that it nearly drowns out the shush of air through vents and the rhythmic breathing of my true love, stretched peacefully beside me. Tonight I rolled over and opened my iPhone, reading soothing white text on black to avoid the waking glare of light for those still sleeping. They were words that soothed my heart and calmed my soul.

I think about all of the changes, choices, decisions, blessings, opportunities, and challenges ahead. I think of life, and after watching a detailed documentary on the Glacier deaths in the 70s, I also think of death and how it makes life so much more precious. I think of feeling materially secure, and I think of how easily things can change and have changed for so many around us. I think of holidays and years gone by, of pajamas and pulsing colored Christmas tree lights. I think of work, and how much I have left to do, and that I now have one day left in which to do it.

I think of being true to myself, even when it's the hard thing to do. I think of trust and how rare it has become in this world. I think of C singing pop songs to the birds in the kitchen as they sing along with loud and happy voices, and I wonder how I wrangled that slice of heaven out of the spaghetti bowl of turmoil in my life.

I think (oddly enough) of how amazing the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints must be to be so positive when Broadway musicals are produced about them that contain so many half-truths, candy-coated lies, and fictitious scenarios billed as fact. I think about how I can be more positive like that, and try to make the best out of challenging or difficult situations.

I think about trying to work over the weekend and holiday to get everything done I need to, and how much I really want to garden instead. I think about how it will probably rain, so I shouldn't count on gardening anyway. I think about the boys at the lake with a BB gun and a slingshot, trying to hit the graceful Night Heron, and finding a male mallard trying to revive his mate who was never going to wake up again. I think about the days and weeks to come, and the work that shouldn't be work, but is because society demands it.

I think about sleep, and how I wish my eyelids would grow heavy and my mind would grow quiet so that I could finally fall fast asleep. And then I think about hitting Publish Post without looking for typos because at midnight typos are inevitable, but then I think I don't really care, and suddenly I can hear the shush of the air through the vents again, and the storm of percolating thoughts has slowed to a gentle trickle at last. I think about cinnamon toast and warm milk. At last, having purged all of the sleep-destroying thoughts from my mind, I know that tomorrow I need to get a loaf of bread so that the next time I get the urge to make cinnamon toast, I will be able to do so.

Primetime: a Never Ending Sporting Event

2011-05-22T22:32:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, there were TV shows that conveyed families. Sure, there were kookie families like the Addams, and over-productive families like the Bradys, but they were families nonetheless. Today the going thing seems to be competitive reality shows: races, survival, Trumptious, dancing, skating, singing, showing off strange and often disturbing talent, and even competitive dating. Competition has taken the field, and we are all referees. What about this is appealing? As one who has helped develop various online communities, I suppose that some may argue that it is all about community and involvement, but there are ways to accomplish that without the competitive element.

Certainly, we all should celebrate one another for our individual achievements. My favorite story is the "overcoming the odds" story, the Rudy stories, the "pushed oneself to their physical limits" story. It is when the story deteriorates into the "must be better than" or "must make them look worse than me" story that I suddenly lose interest. I love seeing good sportsmanship. There is something magnificent and transcendent about the individual who rises above in behalf of another.

You may be wondering where all of this is coming from. It might have something to do with me watching a recent TV show or two where where I was just dying to see who won, and then afterward I reflected on my eagerness to watch. What was the point? The suspense? The drama? The apparent "unknown?" I decided that I had gained nothing of value from any of these.

I suppose you could say that I reexamined my time allotment. I have always been one who tried to maximize my time. I even turn off the radio during commercials because I don't want to sponge in meaningless ads. Resolution: I think I can find better uses of my time; I have more important things to do.

Interpretation vs. Fact

2011-05-22T15:32:00.001-07:00

PART I: General Application
I might have mentioned that I had this really cool opportunity to meet with an management coach at work - I guess that despite my futile efforts to avoid management, I was identified as one individual to try this out. It came right when I needed it, really. I was trying so hard to do everything right, but those managing me were giving me some interesting feedback that was not very actionable. Rather than taking accountability and trying to seek for additional understanding, I let those words become weights on my soul. They circulated in my head like a never-ending rolls of subtitles, and I managed to get very discouraged. Nobody intended that when they gave me the feedback, but I took it very badly.

Since I am writing this for a friend, let me just say, I don't know if you have actual words or just ideas in mind, but since I have a semi-photographic memory, I could remember whole conversations and played the negative parts of them back, over and over again. It was VERY self-destructive.

Alas, enter coach. She asked me to tell her what had been said to me. I did. She asked, "Is that an interpretation or fact?" I started trying to explain this or that, but she interrupted, "Interpretation or fact?"

"Interpretation, I guess..." I said.

"If it's interpretation, then you just let it roll off of your back." She then proceeded to tell me a little secret about interpretations. When someone tosses an interpretation your way, you listen to see if there is any truth in it. If not, you just say in your mind, "Meh. Interpretation. They must be telling me something about themselves." If there was any truth in what they said, then it was my job to draw out the fact, thus:

"I'm not sure what you are saying there. Could you help me understand what you are saying in actionable terms?" She also helped me identify that when I had an emotional response to something someone said, that this is a good indicator that there might be some truth in it. If I didn't have an emotional response, I could just say, "It's not true," and move past it. So friend, what I am NOT saying here is that you are upset because there is truth in what you may have heard/read. What I AM saying is, if it's interpretation, it's just fluff! Don't let other people's interpretations bog you down from being A+ amazing you! Just let it roll and be confident that you are doing the right things at the right time for you in your situation. Giggle inside because they are probably revealing something about themselves, but be careful not to place interpretations on others' actions or words. Listen for fact, and ONLY fact. If there is no fact in what they say, it isn't worth a single thought in your vibrant and brilliant mind.

PART II: Personal Application
On a more personal note, and I mean personal because this is something I never talk about here. We have been unable to have children for almost 12 years now. At first, I was very discouraged, but I have this really cool relationship with God. Everyone can have the same thing, it's just that not everyone THINKS they can. Good grief, we are his CHILDREN. He doesn't ignore us or forget us. He loves us and more than anything, he wants us to be happy! We can talk to him just like we do a parent, and though there are people of faith who can guide us in our relationship with God, we can speak to him anytime, any day!

So I asked God what to do. I won't disclose all of the details, but I got an answer! Around that time I heard this story of a woman who had been without children for ten years and then things just worked out! She spent ten years being miserable, and when she finally had a child, she thought, "Why did I waste the last ten years being so sad?" I knew that it was going to be at LEAST ten years for me, because something whispered to my heart that this was going to be the case. I also knew I had a choice. I had already spent two years being unhappy each month, counting each late day, crying and feeling so painfully sad, and especially feeling judged.

I chose to be private about my situation because I didn't think it was anyone else's business. When people asked, I just told them how grateful I was for them respecting my privacy. There are always exceptions, like those who are in similar circumstances, but in general, procreation in marriage is very sacred and private, and anyone inquiring about intimate details of my life doesn't deserve the time of day. I know popular media communicates a different message about sexual relationships, but I have never been a Hollywood "sheep."

The other thing is that while you and your husband do need to ultimately know where the problem rests (and it could be both, of course), we made a decision early on that we would NEVER disclose those details to ANYONE, not even family. The fact of the matter: we are married, WE have this issue, and it is NOBODY's business as to the details. It has provided a very unified, beautiful relationship, which is exactly what God wants for all of us to have, whether you are religious or not. I know you have that relationship with your man, so keep it strong!

That's all I wanted to say. Little long for a comment, I am sure you will agree. Be Golden, Pony(less) Girl! :D E-mail me anytime. You bring so much beauty to this world!

P.S. I happen to be familiar with the health laws of your homeland and I am pretty confident you have been through the ringer already. My situation has taught me not to judge where others are in life, but to know that God has a different plan for each of us, and other's plans aren't any of my business. It's between that individual and God to figure that out.

TLC, XOXO
A

Moving to Seattle

2011-05-20T10:37:00.000-07:00

Let's just be honest: my birds freak my dad out. These birds like very few people, but they adore him and clamber to leap to his shoulder. They then slowly move in for a nibble on his beautiful white mustache, and he draws back as if a tarantula were approaching him.

I always wondered what it would be like to move to Seattle, Washington. We visit there often, and it is just so lovely, rain and all. As it turns out, I have had that opportunity. I didn't have to pack a single box, or even move to a different home! Seattle came to visit me!

This has been one of the coldest, dampest springtimes yet. The rains just keep on coming, and in a place where drought is often a concern, one feels a bit sheepish complaining about all of the moisture. That being said, my lawn is beautiful and green and we haven't spent a penny on water for the lawn. The blossoms are just beginning to fade on my fruit trees, and a thick canopy of leaves has created perfect patches of shade beneath, generous invitations for sunny days outdoors.

I confess, I have decided that living in Seattle may not be as romantic and glorious as I previously believed. As a light sensitive person who normally looks forward to shedding sunglasses on overcast days, I never thought I would be longing for a morsel of sunlight.

For those who miss all of my photos, be patient. I still haven't gotten over the fact that Google capped my photo limit so now I have to upload everything to photobucket, resize, copy the html link, and paste the photo here. Grrrr. I finally decided that I am going to write with or without photos. Photos will eventually return, but for now, my picturesque words will have to do.

Foley and Luck

2011-05-19T20:35:00.000-07:00

When we watch action films, which we often do, I am always amazed when C points out when a gun didn't make the right noise, or when that car or motorcycle sounded nothing like it should. Granted, he has been around weapons and motorcycles since his pre-teen years, but impressive nonetheless. His Foley skills aren't just limited to weapons and motorcycles, though. He is also extremely talented at identifying voices, even in animated films. His precision is so good that I think he must be aurally gifted or something.

Perhaps he missed his true calling as a Foley artist, or perhaps a technical and weaponry advisor. After 12 years of watching movies together, even I notice when the bad guy asks for a 'clip' when his weapon only takes magazines, or when a soldier refers to his weapon as a 'gun.' He was not only in charge of tending to the family "armory," but often visited his father's military friends who always had weapons within reach anywhere in the house (under the sofa cushions?). I suppose it's no surprise that when he started grad school while working full-time, C decided to pick up a part-time job at a local gun range to "help him relax." There he was able to shoot almost every weapon that came into the store, from historic pieces to elephant guns. A state champion, he was also well known throughout the state for designing and running innovative IDPA-style defense pistol competitive shoots.

I am always amazed at how well C networks as well, considering that his favorite evening off is chilling at home with me. One day I went to the local police station to pay for a speeding ticket, and ran into a friend of C's who is a prosecuting attorney. He waited until the officer got off of the elevator, and then asked me if he could get me out of my ticket as a favor to C. I thanked him, but kindly declined. It was a matter of principle, and while I have fought and won speeding tickets before, I chose to take responsibility for that one.

C doesn't look for friends who are flashy or rich, or who even have the same interests as him. He's comfortable around almost anyone, and one of the least judgmental people I know. In most marriages, there are moments where one partner calls the other partner out on some behavior that has driven them nuts for years, but C has never done that with me. He doesn't yell. I have listened to him speaking to others when he thought he raised his voice, but he has the most soothing, calm voice in the world, that even in anger it doesn't sound harsh at all.

Over the years, I have been the one who picked a handful of cards for family special events and brought them home for C to sign and send off. In fact, I would occasionally use my fave flower delivery service to send off a bouquet or two. The past few years C has completely shown me up. He buys his own Mother's Day and Father's Day cards early on and makes sure he calls his parents and grandparents early so that he won't forget.

Each year C plans an annual trip to visit his grandparents. He packs up his motorcycle and drives the long distance to spend time with them. He adores and respects his mom more than anyone I know. She is likewise non-judgmental and easy-going.

A few years ago I taught C how to make cookies. He now makes cookies often and takes them to the neighbors or to the children across the street when they have birthdays. Despite his love for cookies, C works out almost every day except Sundays, keeping himself healthy and strong.

I have never had to nag C about mowing the lawn or taking out the trash or changing the oil in the car. He is like clockwork. He always leaves the toilet seat down and chastises me when I get my own door. He dances with me in the kitchen, and gets me diet lemonades or egg drop soup when I am not feeling well.

Every day when C arrives home, our two little birds scream his name until he puts them on his shoulder. They are so tiny, and yet he is so gentle with them. They both adore him. Birds are smart, and I am convinced that the birds in our neighborhood have figured out that when he arrives home each day, the first thing he does is fill the bird feeders. He even invented a way to keep the snow off of their food in the winter.

I can't tell you how many times he has been the good Samaritan, helping someone stuck in the snow or reaching out to a neighbor in need, or stopping to help an injured animal. Indeed, I am sure there are many kind deeds I am unaware of. He is brilliant, magnificent, a super hero, a man of God and holy cow, how did I ever get so lucky to call this man my husband! Lucky, lucky me!

Rest assured that I will get chastised for talking about him here, because he is also a very humble man who isn't into self-aggrandizement or personal promotion. Let's instead call this, some well deserved wifely admiration. C, thank you for choosing me.

Vegetarianism

2011-05-17T20:43:00.000-07:00

There are those in this world who deem the consumption of animal flesh as evil. Some follow a Yoga philosophy of "do no harm" and others are repulsed by the very thought. When I was seven years old, someone asked me what my favorite food was. Among the barrage of hamburgers and pizza, I alone responded with spinach soufflé, artichokes, and asparagus. I enjoy many vegetables, and have found that among the crazy diets of the world, if you eat a majority (70%+) of vegetables (not just potatoes, corn and carrots, but green things) at each meal and compliment them with whole grains, fruit, lean meat, and dairy, you can {gasp} lose weight without turning your back on a necessary food group.

One of my family lines comes from "the south" in the United States. If you visit a restaurant in the south, you will commonly see an item like this: Bread and 4 vegetables. I am always interested to see what the vegetable options are. The list varies, but often includes selections like collard greens, corn on the cob, fried okra, potato wedges, baked beans, onion rings, and green beans cooked with bacon. As a teenager I finally discovered that my mother added sugar to our vegetables. It was a southern thing, and perhaps this is why southern children eat their vegetables, even at fast food restaurants.

While I continue to eat a wide variety of vegetables (minus the sugar), I can never divorce myself from a patiently nurtured lean beef brisket or a perfect piece of salmon. As much as I respect vegetarianism, I still love my meat. That being said, when I am dining with a vegan or vegetarian, I always ask if they are comfortable with me eating meat in front of them.

Now that my carnivorous nature is out in the open, I came up with a lovely creation today. On my counter sat a butternut squash, about the size of a large Russian doll. I make butternut squash in a variety of ways that will make C eat it like candy, with a light dusting of cinnamon and brown sugar, for example (bet you can't guess where I got that idea...).

Tonight I pulled out my Valentines Day J.A. Henckel chopping knife. Oh, but if you are able, these are the most glorious blades. Everything I ever hated chopping or cutting is now a dream. SNAP! and I had two perfect halves of a butternut. I quickly scooped them out while a package of lean ground beef thawed in the microwave, and did you know that oats make the most perfect grain addition for a meat filling? Truly. Diced onion atop the oats, followed by two string cheese sticks quartered lengthwise and chopped finely, salt, pepper, chopped garlic, ground beef, and my secret ingredient, a splash of aged balsamic and mix with your hands. It's the only way to properly distribute all of the ingredients in my book.

I stuffed the base of the butternut halves with the meat mixture, wrapped in foil (to keep the meat moist) and baked at 450* until the squash was tender. Absolutely heavenly. I am always the faithful wife who waits until my husband arrives home and greets him with a nicely cooked meal (even if after a long day of work that consists of leftovers or open face sandwiches). C is always the husband who tells me not to wait, to eat if I am hungry, and today I did just that. I enjoyed every single bite! When C arrived home just in time to keep me from eating his half, he agreed that this was a winner.

On a more picturesque note, let me leave you with this: http://whose-its.blogspot.com/2010/04/intimate-details-of-my-love-affair.html

The Beauty of Simplicity

2011-05-15T17:44:00.000-07:00

I flew into SC on Monday, following a skipping little girl carrying a floppy monkey that I normally would have deemed adorable with a bit more sleep under my belt. Waking in the 4AM hour instead created immense amounts of irritation as she skipped along threatening to trip over her flip-flops and fall in front of me. Her cadence was so chaotic that no matter where I stood along the 20' wide walkway, she kept skipping in front of me. I finally found relief in a nearby bathroom, but not the kind you are thinking. When I emerged, she was nowhere to be seen and I could walk a straight line down the corridor once more without fear of tripping over a suger-infused five year old.

I had the great honor of visiting with a former mission companion and close friend. The world was our oyster and we were this unstoppable team together. There are very few people on this planet who I will go to great lengths to reconnect with and spend more than an hour at a time with, and she is one of them. There is just this pure honesty and sincerity that makes you feel like you are home.

One morning I woke and told her about a detailed dream I had about a man we would meet and what his house looked like. We looked for it for months, and finally, while driving home from a conference one night, she interrupted my reading. "Is that the house from your dream?" she asked. Indeed it was, and everything that happened from that moment on was just as it happened in the dream.

As women, we need all kinds of friends, but this one is something extra special. Oddly, I like to say she prepared me to be married to my husband. It just helped me respect certain differences between us that compliment my own weaknesses or strengths. We were so different, and yet we worked so hard to appreciate our unique differences that it created this powerful bond of friendship that never seems to waver.

It was so good to reconnect with her, just like returning home after many years and when you leave you feel more grounded somehow. I came home after being gone for several days and C just wanted to spend time with me. He made me feel so special! He is out cold right now after going to a very early meeting, speaking to one ward, and then attending another ward for his new calling. The birds are in their cages chattering, singing, and earlier Penny started sharing her most recent noise: C's alarm clock. Bee-dee-dee-deep. Bee-dee-dee-deep. Bee-dee-dee-deep. Her impression was rather precise.

Yesterday I tossed a blanket on the grass under my favorite apple tree and let the birds wander around, nibbling grass, chattering happily to the sunrays, and hulling bits of millet. My laptop played the Lord of the Rings book on CD, and the apple blossoms swayed hypnotically overhead until I surrendered to the tepid breeze and the soft pillow under my head. A few moments later, I was startled by a handful of large raindrops which quickly turned into a downpour. Laughing, I swept the laptop under the pillow and rushed it into my office, sending the birds flying and uncertain if this unanticipated shower was acceptable or not. I laughed again as I watched them wander through the wet grass, not sure if they wanted to stay, or climb up to safety on my shoulder. Alas, my little chickens decided against the cold rain, and we went inside to wait out the storm.

Reflecting back on Mother's Day

2011-05-14T08:52:00.000-07:00

It's 6 AM on Saturday, and the time change with South Carolina has me wide awake instead of sleeping in like I should be. It's a beautiful day and it must be a carry-over from the awesome dream I just had about my very cute hubby. It was a dream brimming over with happy and then I wake to find that I am still in that happy little dream!

So I know you are dying to know about my Mother's Day, especially since I have no children. It was really much more like a Mother's Day weekend. Here is how it went:

Friday - C took me to one of my fave Japanese restaurants in his friend's cherry red corvette. He shows me an appointment on his Blackberry: Dance lessons at 7. I am pretty sure this is true love. When we arrive home, he gives me a present: A Pizzelle Maker!!!

Friday night - We arrive at the dance school, and C counts down the minutes to his self-inflicted torture, red-faced, glistening brow; C saying things like, "I'm having SO much FUN!, and both of us laughing to tears. Then I KNOW this is true love.

Saturday - We spend the day at our favorite staycation spot after I enjoy driving up the canyon in the corvette. We share a pear and nut salad and a thin margarita pizza. We then enjoy a game of chess in which I pulled a stunning checkmate, minus one little rule, but let's just say we were both winners that game. Coconut gelato!

Saturday night - Return the 'vette and go out to dinner for Indian.

Sunday - As if I haven't had enough, I come home to C making me lunch and he gives me one card, followed by a SECOND card, and we enjoy the rest of the day relaxing together. What a guy! I feel so lucky to have such a sweet man. Thank you, C for treating me like a queen for Mother's Day!

Following

2011-05-12T12:09:00.000-07:00

It turns out I actually have a following. Not here, of course, because this is my incognito blog, and nobody even knows it exists, but yesterday the GM of my new company announced at the opening session of this big national conference that I would be coming to THEIR company. The reaction was gasps and awe, and not so much "who's she?" like one might suppose. It was crazy how many people came up to me and told me to keep them in the loop and they would market for me. Who knew? It's a crazy world.

Well, I am itching, ITCHING, I tell you, to write here, but alas, I have this presentation I have to finish and give in South Carolina tonight, and then I am free to write! My earlier class went very well, and I auto-tweeted during this class to involve the ADD students (or just provide a more interactive experience, really). One down, one to go!

For now, yours truly - and then I can tell you all about my awesome mother's day!!!

Why I Don't Do Android

2011-05-03T20:14:00.000-07:00

Miss me? I know. See, there has just been so much going on, I can't even begin to tell you. Instead let me say that my studly man is out playing in the dirt. Truly. He has these achy, sore legs, and yet he's out there with a shovel digging up our 3rd car driveway spot so that our little ghetto truck doesn't have to sit on dirt and weeds anymore. So there's that...

The Royal Wedding... I didn't really watch it, I confess. No sleep lost there, although I did look at a few pics just to see the funny hats and the dress. I just hope that they get to have fun times like racing for the one-sink bathroom on commercial break to brush teeth and put in their night retainers, but something tells me that won't happen. Maybe because they have as many darn sinks as they want, and all in ONE bathroom, so...

And what is it with food commercials at night? It's like some evil ploy, I swear, since they make me hungry for food I shouldn't eat. Oddly I am really full right now and have been since 4ish. C came home early to finish some work and that was just rude because I had just consumed mass quantities of lean smokehouse beef brisket, thinking he would not be home until 6ish. I texted him to tell him to call when he was close to home so that I could chop up a salad, then settled down for a long winter's nap. "ETA 5 mins" was his reply. Wha????

Moving on, I am flying out to the East Coast next week for a conference. I will have a little rendezvous with a good friend from my mission and some family members want to connect and watch me present while I am there, along with a few others. It will be a blitz trip, which means that I won't have much down time, but that's all good and fine.

King's Speech wins my vote for the finest show I have seen this year. It's so great to see a star who can really act rather than just act like him/herself (ahem: Kevin, Kiera, Meg, Jennifer, Vince, and so on...). Bravo, Collin, Geoffrey and Helena. Collin has made my Liam Neeson list of "It will be good if he's in it" shows.

I have been Tolkienizing lately. Once upon a time this really cute husband surprised me for our anniversary. He created a treasure hunt that led me all over the place and finally landed me at a place we often rock climbed. There, hidden in a cave was a golden box containing the entire, unabridged Lord of the Rings books on CD. I have been listening to them lately, and as a result, we also started watching them at night, all three extended version movies. This was over the span of weeks, mind you; a few minutes here and there, but we finally finished them. I am still working on the books, but I am SOOO excited for the Hobbit to come out next year! More Cate, please!

Argh, and then there's work. Have you ever quit a job and given a month instead of two weeks? Yep. I am just TRUNKY!!! So, even though I have plenty to do before the end of May, I find that it's really hard to focus at work. I actually focus better at home. Speaking of which, I have got to finish the conference playbook tonight, and my conference presentations this week. Dig it.

Well, more news later. Oh, you mean you came here for the title?
Here's my logic:

Android is by Google
To use Android, you agree to give Google access to your info. All of your contacts, your e-mails, your texts, that you access on your phone; they see it all.
Google is a marketing company.
Marketing companies want to learn about you so that they will know what you will buy.
What better way to learn about someone than to get access to your e-mail, texts, and contacts?
Google is the all-seeing eye, because if you sign up with the same e-mail account you have with any of the Google products, they connect all of that data about you (Blogger, g-mail, Google docs, Android stuff...)
Now when you Google stuff online, they are super keyed into what you want! Brilliant, harmless, but kinda nosy. No thanks.

Changes

2011-04-26T17:07:00.000-07:00

Kawi is moulting, a phenomenon which turns a reasonably sweet bird into a grumpy monster, only Kawi already IS a grumpy monster. He's dropped several feathers, although it isn't visibly noticeable, and now his delicate skin is covered in painful, sharp pinfeathers. It's just a part of the process of growth and development for a bird, a way to make sure that those broken and tattered feathers are replaced by healthy new ones. I guess you could say that we go through something similar.

When I came home today, I mixed a little kosher salt in a dish and filled it with warm water. I then held Kawi in the dish and covered his sore skin with the warm water. Kawi, who acts like he is on the verge of death if you touch a single tail feather, settled down and even nibbled affectionately at my face after his third dip. It soothed his sore little body, and now he is preening my kneecaps in appreciation (strange little fella).

Today I signed a contract. I told my manager at work, who already knew I would. I attempted to explain all of the reasons, when really, it's what I want. I would love to spend time focussed on International aspects of the business, placing me on journeys to China, Africa, Russia, and the Middle East. Even as I write this it sounds pretty enticing! Still, while I will not have the International emphasis, I feel I will be able to use certain competencies that would be limited in the other position. I will still be able to use analysis, strategy, and similar skill sets.

Sometimes pain is associated with change, and while I was immensely happy today, I also had a little piece of me that realized I am going to miss working here! I still have another month, and have been asked to develop a business plan before I leave. I will be speaking at a conference coming up as well. I will certainly be busy over the next month, but am looking forward to this new opportunity.

Dear God....

2011-04-24T19:26:00.000-07:00

Dear God,

First, thanks for all of the rich blessings and opportunities directed our way lately. Who can find things to complain about when so much is worth celebrating? Thanks for spring flowers. Thanks for little children. Thanks for little birds. Thanks for kind people, even those who care too much when you wish they wouldn't. Thanks for trials and troubles that make us stronger. Thanks for a bounty of good, clean, and healthy food we have so readily available. Thanks for water with which to stay clean and hydrated. Thanks for a warm, dry, place to sleep.

Thanks for vehicles that run. Thanks for jobs that allow us to pay our bills. Thanks for health and physical bodies. Thanks for the opportunity to get dirt under my fingernails and to watch things grow. Thanks for giving me a best friend in my spouse, and for making him better every single day. Thanks for great parents and siblings. Thanks for the ability to connect with old and new friends.

Thanks for the beauty of words, and for the opportunity to find beauty where it's not easily found. Thanks for miracles that are as bounteous as the stars, and for heartache that carves into our hearts a place for greater vision. Thanks for opportunities to serve others, and for the way those acts of service always come back to serve us much greater than we gave.

Thanks for the gift of choice, the chance to stretch, the need to grow. Thanks for patience, and for giving me the opportunity to wait for thy timing, because it's always the right time. Thanks for giving me what I need, even when it isn't what I think I need at the time.

Thanks for the chance to live in a world where bitter things happen so that I don't forget the sweet, and so I can help make it better. Thanks for sending thy Son, for giving us all the gift of everlasting life. Thanks for loving us in spite of ourselves, for wanting us to always be better than we are today, and for giving us a perfect example that makes us yearn to be even better than we think we might ever become.

Childless to 91 Children

2011-04-17T21:48:00.000-07:00

It was a great day, but exhausting. In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we each serve in a variety of callings. We serve voluntarily, without pay. Today I was called as Primary President, which means I am responsible for all of the children in our ward. The day C was released from the bishopric, we had a lovely chat with the Stake Presidency member, and when we arrived home there was a message stating that they forgot to extend a call to him. C was called to the High Council. That release didn't last very long. Both are big jobs so we will be busy.

We spent the day yesterday at C's marathon. More on that plus photos tomorrow. I am ready for some sleep.

Deepest Sorrow in the Loss of an Angel

2011-04-14T09:09:00.001-07:00

http://myangelprincess.blogspot.com/

Nixao post

2011-04-12T16:03:00.000-07:00

Today I met a man who told me that he hopes Trump becomes president. "this country needs to be run by someone who can go in and fire everyone." I am sure he will rank right up there with Ross Perot. I also met a man who was an Ivars chowder rep. I gushed about how much I love it, and he gave me a $1.00 coupon in exchange.

I recently learned that e-tickets are awesome. No printing, no ticket, just your phone. Primo.

It was a good day today. Tomorrow will be even better.

So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Goodbye...

2011-04-10T15:39:00.000-07:00

C was released with the bishopric today. Someone came up to me and said, "It's got to be hard to sit by yourself for all of these years." I told her no, not really. She insisted and so I let her be right. It will be good to have the opportunity to sit by him in church.

For the past couple of weeks C and I have been calling a certain individual "bishop" in the privacy of our own home and today, much to our delight, that individual was called as bishop. He is a very good man and will do a great job in this capacity. Two of our friends were called as counselors and they will also do a great job. I just want one of them to know that while he was staying late for meetings and processing tithing, C took a nice long nap! :)

I have an eventful week coming up, but I really can't talk about it in detail. You see, even though this is an incognito blog, I have known for over a year that one of my most valiant invisible followers is someone with whom I work. (No need to stop reading my blog, even if I know you read it, and feel free to leave a comment every now and again. :))

What this means is nothing. Full disclosure isn't my thing, even on work topics. As we all know, people get into a whole lot of trouble when full disclosure overrides logic and reason.

Suffice it to say that by the end of the week I will need to make a decision about work. My recent coaching sessions have been so helpful and powerful that it has helped me remember that external comments, good or bad, should not erode my definition of self. Competencies may be learned or forgotten, but we should never forget who we are at the core.

While C took his well earned nap today, I took Kawi and Penny for a drive. I know that sounds a little odd, but they get so excited to see the outdoors, even if it's behind glass. Penny squawks cheerfully and Kawi jabbers non-stop on sunny drives like today. "Kawi's such a bird. Hi, whatcha doin'? Hey buddy! Slurp, take a drink! Kawi's such a GOOD bird. Kawi's such a PRETTY bird..." and so on. My decision to never let him hear the words "dirty bird" has paid off. Penny will be another story since she is about 10x dirtier than Kawi.

Well, here's to an eventful week. Stay tuned for additional details.