When I picked up the mail this morning, I tossed it onto the side table without looking at it. It wasn't until this evening when I noticed the envelope addressed to me from the Deschutes County Trial Court Administrator. I knew immediately that my civic dream had come true. I have been summoned for jury duty!!!
I know this is an unusual reaction. Most people groan and hate jury duty as it totally messes up an otherwise perfectly calculated daily schedule, usually involving some kind of work-in-exchange-for-money scheme. Not me. Why? A little math will help to illustrate.
Jurors earn a per diem of $10 for the first three days, $25 per day after that, plus $.20 per mile. THIS IS MORE THAN I EARN AT THE MOMENT. So, as you can see, during my two-week stint, if I need to report every day I have the potential to earn....let's see, $30 for the first three days....$50 for two days plus $125 for the entire second week. That's $195 for two weeks worth of civic duty, not including mileage. Plus, there is free wifi in the jury room, and jurors and would-be jurors are invited to bring their books and laptops!
I can write my column, post to my blog or read one of yours, or, read one of the 78 books checked out from the library in my name. Getting paid to do any of this will be considered my Christmas bonus at this point. Plus, courtroom intrigue!
I realize that I may not be called, much less chosen, or that if I do, it will likely be a small-yet-important case involving stolen tires or overdue library books. I don't care. I've wanted to be called for jury duty for as long as I can remember. Some people are just like this. (Or maybe it's just me.)
Cross your fingers I make the grand jury!
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
For the Love of Fluffernutters
Kittens. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. Am I right? I believe I am.
Dakota must suffer numerous nicknames, some of which are Peaches Cheeks, Kola Nut, and Pooky Bear.
I have lived with these two furballs for 14 years. They have lived with me everywhere I have lived since moving out of my parent's house.
Sable sez, I am prettyer than u. Now, pet me now. Tanks!
They are not so much kittens and more 72-year old geriatrics.
Sable got sick last fall. Diarrhea, twice a day, mostly on the carpet. I took him to the vet three times in the last three months of last year. I went through four types of dry food before I found one that he both liked and agreed with his GI tract. I tried different types of wet food and cleaned up a lot of vomit before I found one that he could tolerate. I've given him two different antibiotics twice per day for weeks on end, and vitamin injections once per week. I switched the litter boxes from scoopable litter to shredded newspaper, which must be changed twice (or more) daily, and regularly washed with soap and water.
After a while, I moved their bedding into the kitchen and put up a toddler gate blocking access to the rest of the house (and carpet). I had to put both of them in the kitchen, as it was the only access to food, water and potty boxes.
The range of emotions I have experienced in that time having to do with that cat could furnish a theme park with enough roller coasters to satisfy the most discriminating 7th grader.
I don't know what I would do without those two cats. They have always been there, sometimes to the exclusion of people.
It's been a long haul for us. Sable is eating and pooping normally now, but he has aged a lot since his illness. At many low points points when he was sick, I was ready for him to die and put us all out of our misery. As soon as I had that thought, I felt bad about it. As tired as I became of cleaning up everpresent messes, I still loved him.
Dakota is quite healthy and even runs around a bit after using the litterbox before settling in to his 23-hour nap. He is the most personable of the two. He's the one who wanders around the house looking for me so we can snuggle, or just hang out with me. If I'm reading something, he finds a way to settle down right on top of the book, or in the middle of the newspapers which are spread out on the floor. When I'm sick, he wants to lay down on my stomach by way of letting me know that everything is going to be okay. He is so relaxed. One of my favorite things about him is his chilled out attitude. He is no scaredy-cat.
Sable is a scaredy-cat, but he's so pretty. He's solitary and happy to be on his own, except for a vigorous, once-daily petting and appreciation of his beauty.
I know it is near the end of their lives. In many ways I can't believe they've lived this long. I had a cat in my childhood who lived to be 12, and for some reason I thought these guys would die around the same age.
Yesterday, Dakota went to the vet for a dental cleaning. I had avoided it for two years because the anesthesia was pretty hard on him. However, I noticed one of his teeth had a problem, and I began to imagine a raging infection which would kill him. The vet was fantastic! She assured me of their up-to-date methods and techniques, of the gas anesthesia which is much easier on the system, and how much better he would feel without a toothache. His bloodwork came back very good for a 72-year old, and at this very moment I'm waiting for a phone call to hear how it went.
I'm not ready to lose them. I know it's crazy. After losing people several years ago, I know this is not the same thing. I know they're just stupid cats. The thing is, they are SO NOT just stupid cats. Everybody poops, and everybody dies. Knowing this is one thing, but it still feels bad. It's hard to lose a friend no matter what form those friends take.
I don't know how much longer we have together, so I find myself picking them up more often and, much to their chagrin, kissing their furry heads like it's our last day together. I can't help it.
Dakota must suffer numerous nicknames, some of which are Peaches Cheeks, Kola Nut, and Pooky Bear.I have lived with these two furballs for 14 years. They have lived with me everywhere I have lived since moving out of my parent's house.
Sable sez, I am prettyer than u. Now, pet me now. Tanks!They are not so much kittens and more 72-year old geriatrics.
Sable got sick last fall. Diarrhea, twice a day, mostly on the carpet. I took him to the vet three times in the last three months of last year. I went through four types of dry food before I found one that he both liked and agreed with his GI tract. I tried different types of wet food and cleaned up a lot of vomit before I found one that he could tolerate. I've given him two different antibiotics twice per day for weeks on end, and vitamin injections once per week. I switched the litter boxes from scoopable litter to shredded newspaper, which must be changed twice (or more) daily, and regularly washed with soap and water.
After a while, I moved their bedding into the kitchen and put up a toddler gate blocking access to the rest of the house (and carpet). I had to put both of them in the kitchen, as it was the only access to food, water and potty boxes.
The range of emotions I have experienced in that time having to do with that cat could furnish a theme park with enough roller coasters to satisfy the most discriminating 7th grader.
I don't know what I would do without those two cats. They have always been there, sometimes to the exclusion of people.
It's been a long haul for us. Sable is eating and pooping normally now, but he has aged a lot since his illness. At many low points points when he was sick, I was ready for him to die and put us all out of our misery. As soon as I had that thought, I felt bad about it. As tired as I became of cleaning up everpresent messes, I still loved him.
Dakota is quite healthy and even runs around a bit after using the litterbox before settling in to his 23-hour nap. He is the most personable of the two. He's the one who wanders around the house looking for me so we can snuggle, or just hang out with me. If I'm reading something, he finds a way to settle down right on top of the book, or in the middle of the newspapers which are spread out on the floor. When I'm sick, he wants to lay down on my stomach by way of letting me know that everything is going to be okay. He is so relaxed. One of my favorite things about him is his chilled out attitude. He is no scaredy-cat.
Sable is a scaredy-cat, but he's so pretty. He's solitary and happy to be on his own, except for a vigorous, once-daily petting and appreciation of his beauty.
I know it is near the end of their lives. In many ways I can't believe they've lived this long. I had a cat in my childhood who lived to be 12, and for some reason I thought these guys would die around the same age.
Yesterday, Dakota went to the vet for a dental cleaning. I had avoided it for two years because the anesthesia was pretty hard on him. However, I noticed one of his teeth had a problem, and I began to imagine a raging infection which would kill him. The vet was fantastic! She assured me of their up-to-date methods and techniques, of the gas anesthesia which is much easier on the system, and how much better he would feel without a toothache. His bloodwork came back very good for a 72-year old, and at this very moment I'm waiting for a phone call to hear how it went.
I'm not ready to lose them. I know it's crazy. After losing people several years ago, I know this is not the same thing. I know they're just stupid cats. The thing is, they are SO NOT just stupid cats. Everybody poops, and everybody dies. Knowing this is one thing, but it still feels bad. It's hard to lose a friend no matter what form those friends take.
I don't know how much longer we have together, so I find myself picking them up more often and, much to their chagrin, kissing their furry heads like it's our last day together. I can't help it.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Chernobyl, reduced to a mere Three Mile Island
I had a meltdown last month. It happened after I received the results from the third math test of Math 95.
Before I tell you that grade, let me tell you that the first test grade was a 96%, the second an 89%. I felt I had done well on this third test and furthermore, pressure was building (inside my own head, caused by my own self) to get an A. This was Intermediate Algebra, the kind they offer for free in high schools all across America, but here I was paying for it like a chump. A not-particularly-bright, grade-sliding chump at that.
I did not want to face telling my husband and family, who have been nothing but supportive and encouraging, that all I got was a B. In the first math class I've had in 14 years. Who had the plate of High Standards with a side of Unreasonable Expectations? Oh, right. That is me.
My mom is in college right now, too. She always gets A's. If she can do it, then so can I!
I do not have a crazy schedule, filled from morning to night with a 40-hour a week job with school on top of that. I have one child, one husband, two elderly cats; I take care of the house, cook dinner, and I have ONE CLASS. There are people who have much more on their plate who get really good grades - like A's - who work 50 hours per week, and who do so as single parents!
I got an 86% on that third test. Hence, I melted.
I melted because I felt I had worked harder than ever to prepare for the last test and all that work deserved more than a B. I had made many silly mistakes, like not checking my answers on the calculator, missing a negative here and there, and flubbing two questions to lose 8 points on those alone. All I could see was my grade sliding down the scale farther and farther in direct proportion to the harder I studied. There was a lot of homework every week, but I didn't put it off until the last minute. I did all the homework that was required, plus the homework that wasn't required.
Except for the sliding grade, I actually enjoyed math this time around. I was learning something. That was not my experience in high school when math was free. The story does have a happy ending.
First, they make a pill for the type of anxiety-induced blathering I tend toward. I used to take them the last time I had a round of uncontrolled anxiety. They worked. Why did I stop taking them? Second, final grades came out last week. I am happy - and slightly embarrassed, now - to say that my final grade was an A.
My whole family earned that A. They were quiet while I did my homework. They watched the laundry pile up and ate leftovers while I did my homework. They muddled through Sunday afternoons with bike rides and playing baseball while I studied at the library. My husband answered many math-related questions while I did my homework. Then, they listened to me have a meltdown because of a B on a test.
(Note to self: a B is a good grade!!)
My mom told me that she has in fact, earned other grades besides A's, especially in math. If math is not my major, then why was I so worried about it? I don't know, because unnecessary anxiety and ulcers sound like a party I don't want to miss? Point taken.
Math 111 started this week. This time, I've got something I didn't have before: perspective. I take 20 mg of it every night.
Before I tell you that grade, let me tell you that the first test grade was a 96%, the second an 89%. I felt I had done well on this third test and furthermore, pressure was building (inside my own head, caused by my own self) to get an A. This was Intermediate Algebra, the kind they offer for free in high schools all across America, but here I was paying for it like a chump. A not-particularly-bright, grade-sliding chump at that.
I did not want to face telling my husband and family, who have been nothing but supportive and encouraging, that all I got was a B. In the first math class I've had in 14 years. Who had the plate of High Standards with a side of Unreasonable Expectations? Oh, right. That is me.
My mom is in college right now, too. She always gets A's. If she can do it, then so can I!
I do not have a crazy schedule, filled from morning to night with a 40-hour a week job with school on top of that. I have one child, one husband, two elderly cats; I take care of the house, cook dinner, and I have ONE CLASS. There are people who have much more on their plate who get really good grades - like A's - who work 50 hours per week, and who do so as single parents!
I got an 86% on that third test. Hence, I melted.
I melted because I felt I had worked harder than ever to prepare for the last test and all that work deserved more than a B. I had made many silly mistakes, like not checking my answers on the calculator, missing a negative here and there, and flubbing two questions to lose 8 points on those alone. All I could see was my grade sliding down the scale farther and farther in direct proportion to the harder I studied. There was a lot of homework every week, but I didn't put it off until the last minute. I did all the homework that was required, plus the homework that wasn't required.
Except for the sliding grade, I actually enjoyed math this time around. I was learning something. That was not my experience in high school when math was free. The story does have a happy ending.
First, they make a pill for the type of anxiety-induced blathering I tend toward. I used to take them the last time I had a round of uncontrolled anxiety. They worked. Why did I stop taking them? Second, final grades came out last week. I am happy - and slightly embarrassed, now - to say that my final grade was an A.
My whole family earned that A. They were quiet while I did my homework. They watched the laundry pile up and ate leftovers while I did my homework. They muddled through Sunday afternoons with bike rides and playing baseball while I studied at the library. My husband answered many math-related questions while I did my homework. Then, they listened to me have a meltdown because of a B on a test.
(Note to self: a B is a good grade!!)
My mom told me that she has in fact, earned other grades besides A's, especially in math. If math is not my major, then why was I so worried about it? I don't know, because unnecessary anxiety and ulcers sound like a party I don't want to miss? Point taken.
Math 111 started this week. This time, I've got something I didn't have before: perspective. I take 20 mg of it every night.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Homecoming
The only thing that exceeds the ability to purchase organic, gluten-free food products is to obnoxiously discuss doing the same. Insufferable nonsense. In the weekend calorie free-for-all, the calories won. Between the Dublin Mudslide AND Magic Brownie flavors there wasn't enough yoga in the world to combat those forces of delicious evil.
Family life has been restored. What makes me appreciate a little time alone is to have that alone time gloriously wiped out with the return of my daughter and husband.
It was Saturday afternoon and we were about halfway home when she decided to plan her triumphant reunion with the cats. "I will bring a few things with me from the car, but not all because I can go back out for the rest. Then, I'm gonna go wait by the door and run in place - because I'm too excited - while you open the door, and then I'm going to run inside and hug Dakota and then hug Sable!"
I understand this need of hers to plan. I find I do my best work when I visualize myself doing...whatever it is. I never thought I would be one of those people - the kind who need a wacky TECHNIQUE in order to do anything - but one of them, I am.
(It works, too. I'm pinching your head! I'm pinching your head! Hahaha!!!)
My husband had gone camping with some friends. In the snow. By the time it was Sunday, I had begun having thoughts about a group of people found frozen to death in their tents when he walked in the door. I married a crazy man, I have come to realize.
OC carried out her sweet homecoming plan, although I don't remember any running in place. The cats did not share her exuberance, but then again, they never have.
Family life has been restored. What makes me appreciate a little time alone is to have that alone time gloriously wiped out with the return of my daughter and husband.
It was Saturday afternoon and we were about halfway home when she decided to plan her triumphant reunion with the cats. "I will bring a few things with me from the car, but not all because I can go back out for the rest. Then, I'm gonna go wait by the door and run in place - because I'm too excited - while you open the door, and then I'm going to run inside and hug Dakota and then hug Sable!"
I understand this need of hers to plan. I find I do my best work when I visualize myself doing...whatever it is. I never thought I would be one of those people - the kind who need a wacky TECHNIQUE in order to do anything - but one of them, I am.
(It works, too. I'm pinching your head! I'm pinching your head! Hahaha!!!)
My husband had gone camping with some friends. In the snow. By the time it was Sunday, I had begun having thoughts about a group of people found frozen to death in their tents when he walked in the door. I married a crazy man, I have come to realize.
OC carried out her sweet homecoming plan, although I don't remember any running in place. The cats did not share her exuberance, but then again, they never have.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Check it Out, Martha: THIS is Living
It's Friday night, and it worked out that I am home alone. My family has gone to do other things and I have 24-plus hours to myself. This is a good thing when you get to be my age. So. What to do?
Yesterday, I went grocery shopping to stock up on supplies and it seemed as though I was buying things as though my parents were leaving me home alone, albeit with a few upgrades to purchasing power: organic gluten-free rice and bean chips, all natural Breyer's ice cream, a couple of types of Ben & Jerry's, myzithra cheese to make Spaghetti a la Homer, etc.
I went for a walk this afternoon. I would have gone running but I'm trying to heal an old injury in my leg and if I had gone running all that would have happened was I would be spending the evening hobbling around like an older-than-what-I-am year old. I walked for as long as I could stand it but it was absolutely freezing outside. The wind was relentless! Back home I went after about 20 minutes.
I had a healthy dinner, then, broke open the chips and ice cream! (Yes, unbelievably, this got me excited.) Except, since my walk was so short I could feel the calories enter my body and immediately meld to my thighs and butt. Ick. I did a few sets of push-ups and sit-ups to offset this unsavory occurence, followed by a smaller dish of ice cream of a different flavor. Then more push-ups and sit-ups.
When I was 16, I don't remember feeling that I had to immediately exercise away the calories. But then again, that was a long time ago. Maybe I'm not remembering correctly.
Yesterday, I went grocery shopping to stock up on supplies and it seemed as though I was buying things as though my parents were leaving me home alone, albeit with a few upgrades to purchasing power: organic gluten-free rice and bean chips, all natural Breyer's ice cream, a couple of types of Ben & Jerry's, myzithra cheese to make Spaghetti a la Homer, etc.
I went for a walk this afternoon. I would have gone running but I'm trying to heal an old injury in my leg and if I had gone running all that would have happened was I would be spending the evening hobbling around like an older-than-what-I-am year old. I walked for as long as I could stand it but it was absolutely freezing outside. The wind was relentless! Back home I went after about 20 minutes.
I had a healthy dinner, then, broke open the chips and ice cream! (Yes, unbelievably, this got me excited.) Except, since my walk was so short I could feel the calories enter my body and immediately meld to my thighs and butt. Ick. I did a few sets of push-ups and sit-ups to offset this unsavory occurence, followed by a smaller dish of ice cream of a different flavor. Then more push-ups and sit-ups.
When I was 16, I don't remember feeling that I had to immediately exercise away the calories. But then again, that was a long time ago. Maybe I'm not remembering correctly.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
This is For My Mom
I know that everyone and their mother will have already seen this because it was linked from an uber-popular blog, a blog which I love. But, my mom hasn't seen it and so I link to it in order to share the joy.
It is the most hilarious bit of parenting advice in the form of visual aids I have seen, possibly, ever. Prepare to wet your pants. It is that funny.
It is the most hilarious bit of parenting advice in the form of visual aids I have seen, possibly, ever. Prepare to wet your pants. It is that funny.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Taking Things Too Far
I watched a video recommended by another blogger which was about life from a dog's point of view. I liked it so much I watched another one by the same people, Futureshorts.
The moral of the story is: Be careful when you think you have a great idea for a practical joke. Holy cow! Observe.
This is the video about the dog. Very sweet. I liked it, and I am a cat person.
The moral of the story is: Be careful when you think you have a great idea for a practical joke. Holy cow! Observe.
This is the video about the dog. Very sweet. I liked it, and I am a cat person.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Here, Hold This For a Sec
I feel like the weight of the world is off of my shoulders now that my math final is done. Call me Heracles - or Hercules if you prefer the Roman version - because I've just tricked Atlas in order to give back to him the earth and sky. Ancient mythological sucker!
What will I do now? I don't know, let's think about that. I could read a book without thinking about the homework I should be doing instead. I could knit the hat I started for my husband back in aught-seven without thinking about the homework I should be doing instead. I could watch whatever Netflix has sent without thinking about the homework I should be doing instead. I could write, anytime, and now that I mention it I really need to do that since I've been late the last couple of times with the deadline. Editors don't really like it when you do that. I could do anything now that I've sent the homework monkey packing.
It's spring break! I'm a college student! I should be planning my trip to Cancun or Cabo, packing lightly and then drinking heavily. That is not my reality. My family might object to such behavior. And now that I think about it that's not my idea of fun things to do while Mexico. That list would involve much more reading and sitting by a quiet swimming pool than it would loud partying with strangers. That's what being a grown-up is, I guess, sedate activities while fully-clothed.
That's not to say that being a grown-up is boring. Right at this very moment, I'm trying very hard not to panic because there is no coffee in the house. I need to go deal with that crisis before my head explodes. I've either got to take a shower NOW and go buy a cup, or take a shower NOW and go buy some beans and then come home and make it myself. The former is probably more realistic because I don't have the kind of patience required to perform a multi-step task involved with first buying coffee and then, making it myself. Who am I, if not Paris Hilton's more astute younger sister? Except, the Hilton's have people to do the coffee buying and at the very least, the dealing of the no-coffee-in-the-house-crisis, for them. No, I am more like Paris Hilton's second cousin twice-removed's husband's love-child, having to get by on her own wits to figure out these kinds of things and rise above them. Speaking of which.
What will I do now? I don't know, let's think about that. I could read a book without thinking about the homework I should be doing instead. I could knit the hat I started for my husband back in aught-seven without thinking about the homework I should be doing instead. I could watch whatever Netflix has sent without thinking about the homework I should be doing instead. I could write, anytime, and now that I mention it I really need to do that since I've been late the last couple of times with the deadline. Editors don't really like it when you do that. I could do anything now that I've sent the homework monkey packing.
It's spring break! I'm a college student! I should be planning my trip to Cancun or Cabo, packing lightly and then drinking heavily. That is not my reality. My family might object to such behavior. And now that I think about it that's not my idea of fun things to do while Mexico. That list would involve much more reading and sitting by a quiet swimming pool than it would loud partying with strangers. That's what being a grown-up is, I guess, sedate activities while fully-clothed.
That's not to say that being a grown-up is boring. Right at this very moment, I'm trying very hard not to panic because there is no coffee in the house. I need to go deal with that crisis before my head explodes. I've either got to take a shower NOW and go buy a cup, or take a shower NOW and go buy some beans and then come home and make it myself. The former is probably more realistic because I don't have the kind of patience required to perform a multi-step task involved with first buying coffee and then, making it myself. Who am I, if not Paris Hilton's more astute younger sister? Except, the Hilton's have people to do the coffee buying and at the very least, the dealing of the no-coffee-in-the-house-crisis, for them. No, I am more like Paris Hilton's second cousin twice-removed's husband's love-child, having to get by on her own wits to figure out these kinds of things and rise above them. Speaking of which.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Sprinklings
I live a non-journalist's life. I look for the texture of ordinary things.
----- Nuala O'Faolain
Bless This House
Bless this house, o Lord, we pray.
Make it safe by night and day.
Bless these walls so firm and stout,
Keeping want and trouble out.
Bless the roof and chimney tall,
Let thy peace lie over all.
Bless the doors that they may prove
Ever open to joy and love.
Bless the windows shining bright,
Letting in God's heavenly light.
Bless the hearth a-blazing there,
With smoke ascending like a prayer.
Bless the people here within...
Keep them pure and free from sin.
Bless us all, that one day, we
May be fit, O lord, to dwell with Thee.
This evening we celebrate St. Patrick and kindle memories of our too-short stay on the Emerald Isle by stuffing our pieholes with baked ham, colcannon, champ, and soda bread. Dessert? Traditional girl scout cookies.
Irish Marriage Blessing
May God be with you and bless you.
May you see your children's children.
May you be poor in misfortunes
and rich in blessings.
May you know nothing but happiness
from this day forward.
A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal.
----- Oscar Wilde
I am not young enough to know everything.
----- Oscar Wilde
The only thing to do with good advice is pass it on. It is never any use to oneself.
----- Oscar Wilde
An Irish Prayer
May God give you...
For every storm, a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care, a promise,
And a blessing in each trial.
For every problem life sends,
A faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.
Every action of our lives touches on some chord that will vibrate in eternity.
----- Sean O'Casey
Irish blessings and prayers are sweet and hopeful. I especially like this one:
May the blessing of the rain be on you—
the soft sweet rain.
May it fall upon your spirit
so that all the little flowers may spring up,
and shed their sweetness on the air.
May the blessing of the great rains be on you,
may they beat upon your spirit
and wash it fair and clean,
and leave there many a shining pool
where the blue of heaven shines,
and sometimes a star.
Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.
-----Samuel Beckett, "Worstward Ho", 1983
Vladimir: That passed the time.
Estragon: It would have passed in any case.
Vladimir: Yes, but not so rapidly.
----- Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot (1955)
The Ireland I now inhabit is one that these Irish contemporaries have helped to imagine.
----- Seamus Heaney
Happy St. Patrick's Day.
----- Nuala O'Faolain
Bless This House
Bless this house, o Lord, we pray.
Make it safe by night and day.
Bless these walls so firm and stout,
Keeping want and trouble out.
Bless the roof and chimney tall,
Let thy peace lie over all.
Bless the doors that they may prove
Ever open to joy and love.
Bless the windows shining bright,
Letting in God's heavenly light.
Bless the hearth a-blazing there,
With smoke ascending like a prayer.
Bless the people here within...
Keep them pure and free from sin.
Bless us all, that one day, we
May be fit, O lord, to dwell with Thee.
This evening we celebrate St. Patrick and kindle memories of our too-short stay on the Emerald Isle by stuffing our pieholes with baked ham, colcannon, champ, and soda bread. Dessert? Traditional girl scout cookies.
Irish Marriage Blessing
May God be with you and bless you.
May you see your children's children.
May you be poor in misfortunes
and rich in blessings.
May you know nothing but happiness
from this day forward.
A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal.
----- Oscar Wilde
I am not young enough to know everything.
----- Oscar Wilde
The only thing to do with good advice is pass it on. It is never any use to oneself.
----- Oscar Wilde
An Irish Prayer
May God give you...
For every storm, a rainbow,
For every tear, a smile,
For every care, a promise,
And a blessing in each trial.
For every problem life sends,
A faithful friend to share,
For every sigh, a sweet song,
And an answer for each prayer.
Every action of our lives touches on some chord that will vibrate in eternity.
----- Sean O'Casey
Irish blessings and prayers are sweet and hopeful. I especially like this one:
May the blessing of the rain be on you—
the soft sweet rain.
May it fall upon your spirit
so that all the little flowers may spring up,
and shed their sweetness on the air.
May the blessing of the great rains be on you,
may they beat upon your spirit
and wash it fair and clean,
and leave there many a shining pool
where the blue of heaven shines,
and sometimes a star.
Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.
-----Samuel Beckett, "Worstward Ho", 1983
Vladimir: That passed the time.
Estragon: It would have passed in any case.
Vladimir: Yes, but not so rapidly.
----- Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot (1955)
The Ireland I now inhabit is one that these Irish contemporaries have helped to imagine.
----- Seamus Heaney
Happy St. Patrick's Day.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
For Your Information
Hello, Dutch Brothers barista. If I wanted you in my car, I'd ask you out on a date. As it turns out, I don't, so when the music inside your place of employment is at the volume that it requires you lean out of the window so far as to invade my personal space as I sit inside my vehicle, I'm just going to go out on a limb here and suggest you turn it the hell down. Let me also add that while I applaud your efforts to correctly interpret my very important beverage order, my appreciation dives in direct proportion to your proximity to my person. You seem nice, but no, I don't want to chat about my day or what I've been up to. I just thought you would want to know.
Furniture store clerk: I love your store! However, I do not love the way you chit chat with me while I'm trying to look at your fine goods. I have a seven-year old, I do enough listening as it is. I'm happy to listen to my seven-year old, I draw the line at spending inordinate amounts of what should be happy shopping time listening to a stranger go on and on when I can see perfectly well for myself and prefer to do just that in peace and quiet. When I have a question, you have my sacred word spoken on a stack of Bibles that I will approach you and ask. Until then, please, for the love of god, shut up.
I saw a truck today which seemed to be an installation company of decks, patios, landscape, and sannas. I'm guessing they meant to say sauna, but who knows? Maybe there is some new thing called a sanna and while I don't know what that is, I want to find out. If they did in fact mean to say sauna, somebody didn't get their money's worth at the sign shop.
Occidental Tourist out.
Furniture store clerk: I love your store! However, I do not love the way you chit chat with me while I'm trying to look at your fine goods. I have a seven-year old, I do enough listening as it is. I'm happy to listen to my seven-year old, I draw the line at spending inordinate amounts of what should be happy shopping time listening to a stranger go on and on when I can see perfectly well for myself and prefer to do just that in peace and quiet. When I have a question, you have my sacred word spoken on a stack of Bibles that I will approach you and ask. Until then, please, for the love of god, shut up.
I saw a truck today which seemed to be an installation company of decks, patios, landscape, and sannas. I'm guessing they meant to say sauna, but who knows? Maybe there is some new thing called a sanna and while I don't know what that is, I want to find out. If they did in fact mean to say sauna, somebody didn't get their money's worth at the sign shop.
Occidental Tourist out.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
The First of Many
Guess who said what this morning in the following conversation, as OC and I discussed her choice of clothing.
"Are you wearing your play jeans?"
"Yes."
"Do they have holes in the knees?"
*impish smile, which means yes
"You look like a.....a....what is the word?"
*thinkthinkthink
"Give me a minute. I'll think of it."
*thinkthinkthinkstupidbrain
"Your minute is up."
"You look like a...why do I want to say flower, or muffin?"
"...teenager?"
*checks thesaurus
"A guttersnipe? Tatterdemalion? I've never heard of those. Wait, muffin was close. Ragamuffin! That's it. You look like a ragamuffin. Oliver Twist. Please sir, can I have some more?"
"Whaaaaat?!?" takes bowl away
The girl thinks quickly, I'll give her that.
"Are you wearing your play jeans?"
"Yes."
"Do they have holes in the knees?"
*impish smile, which means yes
"You look like a.....a....what is the word?"
*thinkthinkthink
"Give me a minute. I'll think of it."
*thinkthinkthinkstupidbrain
"Your minute is up."
"You look like a...why do I want to say flower, or muffin?"
"...teenager?"
*checks thesaurus
"A guttersnipe? Tatterdemalion? I've never heard of those. Wait, muffin was close. Ragamuffin! That's it. You look like a ragamuffin. Oliver Twist. Please sir, can I have some more?"
"Whaaaaat?!?" takes bowl away
The girl thinks quickly, I'll give her that.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Science Friday
Your Love Element Is Metal |
 In love, you inspire and respect your partner. For you, love is all about fusing together for one incredible life experience. You attract others with wit and a bit of flash. Your flirting style is defined by making others want and value you. Greatness and optimism are the cornerstones of your love life. You may let go too easily, but you never get weighed down by your past. You connect best with: Earth Avoid: Fire You and another Metal element: will control and smother each other. |
I would guess my husband's "love element" to be fire. Maybe? Have a nice weekend.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Administration
I've added a poll in the margin. To clear matters, I am fishing for respondents who are regular attendees of Girl's Weekend with me. If you are not, please do not mess with my mind in this manner.
In other news, school is hard. Now, I will eat cookies. Good bye.
In other news, school is hard. Now, I will eat cookies. Good bye.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Oh the Things You Will Read
It's Dr. Seuss week at OC's school, like a lot of schools, which is great because it's fun to reread Green Eggs and Ham. I read it twice this morning to two different children. It's a great book. And now I'm good for the year.
OC wanted to go to a Dr. Seuss event at the city library this week, so off we went, and on a school night! How crazy. There was a Dr. Seuss movie - "Horton Hears a Who" - and a Dr. Seuss craft - Cat in the Hat headband - and a few songs. The story goes that Dr. Seuss didn't give his permission to have a certain poem put to music and so someone changed it enough to be original and called it something, something Waltzing with a Bear....something. And there was actual dancing with a stuffed, life-size bear. OC loved it. Especially the cookies and milk afterward. That's my girl!
After the party, we went to the children's section of the library which she had never seen. She's been to the Redmond library many times, but not the Bend library. I know, she's a deprived child. We found the section of books in her reading level, and she gasped, and I quote: "Oh, my gosh! I am seriously going crazy!"
No lie. That's what she said. She began grabbing at books, gasping again when she found the Magic Tree House and then the Weather Fairies series; thrilled to see many, many new titles. Bend is a bigger library and so there were quite a few more books to choose from. We left with a couple dozen paperbacks.
OC needs to be reminded again and again to do certain things. She easily loses focus, talks a lot, and really, really hates to quit playing something fun when bedtime sneaks up too quickly. But she likes to read. I'm completely thrilled that we share this trait, along with our eye color and overdeveloped sense of excitement over Girl Scout cookie time. I hope it sticks.
OC wanted to go to a Dr. Seuss event at the city library this week, so off we went, and on a school night! How crazy. There was a Dr. Seuss movie - "Horton Hears a Who" - and a Dr. Seuss craft - Cat in the Hat headband - and a few songs. The story goes that Dr. Seuss didn't give his permission to have a certain poem put to music and so someone changed it enough to be original and called it something, something Waltzing with a Bear....something. And there was actual dancing with a stuffed, life-size bear. OC loved it. Especially the cookies and milk afterward. That's my girl!
After the party, we went to the children's section of the library which she had never seen. She's been to the Redmond library many times, but not the Bend library. I know, she's a deprived child. We found the section of books in her reading level, and she gasped, and I quote: "Oh, my gosh! I am seriously going crazy!"
No lie. That's what she said. She began grabbing at books, gasping again when she found the Magic Tree House and then the Weather Fairies series; thrilled to see many, many new titles. Bend is a bigger library and so there were quite a few more books to choose from. We left with a couple dozen paperbacks.
OC needs to be reminded again and again to do certain things. She easily loses focus, talks a lot, and really, really hates to quit playing something fun when bedtime sneaks up too quickly. But she likes to read. I'm completely thrilled that we share this trait, along with our eye color and overdeveloped sense of excitement over Girl Scout cookie time. I hope it sticks.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Over the Pass and Through the Snowbanks
These pictures are from our trans-state trek earlier this month. I added captions, but every one reads some version of, "Snow Piled Higher Than the Car + Haulin' Semi Truck Drivers On Your Tail + Hey, Look It Started Snowing Again = Fantastic Road Driving Adventure". That is, if your idea of fantastic includes white knuckles and stomach bile.
Lookit! All the pretty snow!
So the snow is higher than the car, it's not like there's ever been an avalanche which fell onto passing cars or anything. Wait a minute, didn't that happened in Washington? Must think happy thoughts.
Drifting, ghostly wispies never hurt anybody.
Oh, look, it's starting to snow. I should mention that it was really easy to take pictures and drive at the same time. The camera was sitting on the seat next to me, I just turned it on and held it in one hand while I steered with the other. We were traveling about 15 mph so there was plenty of time to pay attention to the road. Besides, it's not like I was taking pictures of what was behind us. Plus, I am a woman, we can multitask like that.
Why am I reminded of the Donner party at this moment? Weird.
The Donner party never had multiple snowplows go through and plow a mile-deep path for them. Hmm, maybe we will survive this after all. I always tell OC that I'm going to eat her up with a spoon, but now with the whole Donner party thoughts that crowd my min, that idea taking on a totally new connotation.
Snowplow #8 in the 1 1/2 hours from Detroit to Sisters. Hooray!
Who am I kidding, I get to travel with her, all smiles and optimism. Cannibalism is not an option. Life is good. Oh, and we were stopped when I took this one.
We made it through - much gratitude - but I do NOT want to do that again anytime soon thankyouverymuch.
Lookit! All the pretty snow!
So the snow is higher than the car, it's not like there's ever been an avalanche which fell onto passing cars or anything. Wait a minute, didn't that happened in Washington? Must think happy thoughts.
Drifting, ghostly wispies never hurt anybody.
Oh, look, it's starting to snow. I should mention that it was really easy to take pictures and drive at the same time. The camera was sitting on the seat next to me, I just turned it on and held it in one hand while I steered with the other. We were traveling about 15 mph so there was plenty of time to pay attention to the road. Besides, it's not like I was taking pictures of what was behind us. Plus, I am a woman, we can multitask like that.
Why am I reminded of the Donner party at this moment? Weird.
The Donner party never had multiple snowplows go through and plow a mile-deep path for them. Hmm, maybe we will survive this after all. I always tell OC that I'm going to eat her up with a spoon, but now with the whole Donner party thoughts that crowd my min, that idea taking on a totally new connotation.
Snowplow #8 in the 1 1/2 hours from Detroit to Sisters. Hooray!
Who am I kidding, I get to travel with her, all smiles and optimism. Cannibalism is not an option. Life is good. Oh, and we were stopped when I took this one.
We made it through - much gratitude - but I do NOT want to do that again anytime soon thankyouverymuch.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Two Fer
Yesterday started off with a bang. Literally. I'm not talking gunshot, I'm talking a brand new jar of organic tamari soy sauce crashed down from the overhead cabinet onto my coffee mug, shattering the whole mess. This was BEFORE I had a chance to take a sip of coffee, as what caused the crashing was my reaching for the turbinado sugar which was on the shelf next to the soy sauce.
Good morning!
And then today. I'm putting dishes away and a grab-it bowl decided to be rebellious and defy its name when it crashed to the floor and shattered into a million pieces.
No one was hurt, not like last time. I am definitely beginning to feel like I should not touch the good china. Which will be easy seeing as though I don't have any good china.
Good morning!
And then today. I'm putting dishes away and a grab-it bowl decided to be rebellious and defy its name when it crashed to the floor and shattered into a million pieces.
No one was hurt, not like last time. I am definitely beginning to feel like I should not touch the good china. Which will be easy seeing as though I don't have any good china.
Monday, February 25, 2008
I am a Central Oregon Blogger
This week, I had the chance to smile and nod at some other local bloggers. I would say I got to talk to them, but what happened is more like my wimpy voice that blends in to background noise and renders me unhearable meant I did a LOT more listening than talking.
Photographic evidence exists of my not-entirely-mute, but-kinda presence.
I met some bloggers who I read but didn't have a clue what they looked like until now. Boy, did some of them surprise me. Examples include BOR who as a matter of fact, has a real face and not one made of food. It seems Shannon's camera adds a hamburger and fries where they would not be normally.
Chubby Mommy, who is in fact, not so much with the chubby and is sweet to talk with. Beware if you tell her to come to jury duty despite nursing a newborn! Asses will be kicked. Of course, it was great to see Jen, who had her picture printed on the cover of the Source! She knows more about the happs with coffee shops in my town than I do. Something is wrong with that but so far it's not bugging me because when she knows = less work for me. She mentioned some other blogger as being her heroine, a blogger who is not me, which I'm pretty sure is some kind of wild oversight.
I met this woman almost one year ago, and she is still lovely. I wonder if she is planning to do that walk again this year?
And I met the most gorgeous pregnant woman, Shannon, who organized this little shindig. I hope she had fun. I had fun meeting everyone.
It makes being in a new place that much better when you have the chance to make friends. Like, duh.
Photographic evidence exists of my not-entirely-mute, but-kinda presence.
I met some bloggers who I read but didn't have a clue what they looked like until now. Boy, did some of them surprise me. Examples include BOR who as a matter of fact, has a real face and not one made of food. It seems Shannon's camera adds a hamburger and fries where they would not be normally.
Chubby Mommy, who is in fact, not so much with the chubby and is sweet to talk with. Beware if you tell her to come to jury duty despite nursing a newborn! Asses will be kicked. Of course, it was great to see Jen, who had her picture printed on the cover of the Source! She knows more about the happs with coffee shops in my town than I do. Something is wrong with that but so far it's not bugging me because when she knows = less work for me. She mentioned some other blogger as being her heroine, a blogger who is not me, which I'm pretty sure is some kind of wild oversight.
I met this woman almost one year ago, and she is still lovely. I wonder if she is planning to do that walk again this year?
And I met the most gorgeous pregnant woman, Shannon, who organized this little shindig. I hope she had fun. I had fun meeting everyone.
It makes being in a new place that much better when you have the chance to make friends. Like, duh.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
The Family That Skis Together
In an attempt to get out and go skiing more than once this year, the family and I headed up to Hoodoo last Saturday. I have not heard people rave about skiing at Hoodoo - probably because Mt. Bachelor is nearby and a perennial favorite. I wasn't expecting much, so when it turned out to be probably the best day I've had skiing ever, I was surprised.
Hoodoo has an area called Easy Rider, which has the gentlest slope I've ever seen with a chair lift. Easy Rider could be called Chubby Baby Cheeks, as gentle and soft and edible as it was. I've been to four ski resorts in my entire life, so I've seen at least four chair lifts, if not five. I know of that which I speak. OC and I spent a good hour on Easy Rider, experiencing a state of relaxation like never before while attached to waxed projectiles of possible death or at least very real danger.
Normally, my ski day starts when my body produces a good healthy sheen of anxiety-produced sweat, about at the moment we arrive at the mountain and my mind makes sense of the information that I am about to be attached to extremely slick rented objects that will hurtle myself down a slippery hill at high rates of speed of which I am barely able to control. Also, that of my innocent child. A nagging worry soon follows which makes me imagine that my leg is about to be broken, or god forbid, OC's, and these are our last moments as fully-functioning human beings. This is when I cram everything down into my stomach and instead, bravely put on my gear and hope for the best.
It must've been good to start the day off slowly, for after a few runs down Over Easy and Hesitation, the skiier in pink also known as OC adopted a new battle cry. "See you at the bottom!" She called out to us as we ate her dust down the mountain.
Me, eating said dust.
As a parent, there are things that are inevitable and best to accept rather than dwell upon them. One of those things - among the many and various - is that at some point, your child will smoke you at something. Whether it's skiing, basketball, height, or Civil War trivia, you cannot fight it. Instead, let the defeat wash over like a soothing, chamomile-scented bath. Think back on how chubby and cute their little baby bottom was. It doesn't seem so bad after that, because after all, you were the one to raise and encourage that little behind to grow up and do so well at whatever it is.
This is much preferred over a bumper sticker announcing the achievement. Trust me on this.
Hoodoo has an area called Easy Rider, which has the gentlest slope I've ever seen with a chair lift. Easy Rider could be called Chubby Baby Cheeks, as gentle and soft and edible as it was. I've been to four ski resorts in my entire life, so I've seen at least four chair lifts, if not five. I know of that which I speak. OC and I spent a good hour on Easy Rider, experiencing a state of relaxation like never before while attached to waxed projectiles of possible death or at least very real danger.
Normally, my ski day starts when my body produces a good healthy sheen of anxiety-produced sweat, about at the moment we arrive at the mountain and my mind makes sense of the information that I am about to be attached to extremely slick rented objects that will hurtle myself down a slippery hill at high rates of speed of which I am barely able to control. Also, that of my innocent child. A nagging worry soon follows which makes me imagine that my leg is about to be broken, or god forbid, OC's, and these are our last moments as fully-functioning human beings. This is when I cram everything down into my stomach and instead, bravely put on my gear and hope for the best.
It must've been good to start the day off slowly, for after a few runs down Over Easy and Hesitation, the skiier in pink also known as OC adopted a new battle cry. "See you at the bottom!" She called out to us as we ate her dust down the mountain.
Me, eating said dust.
As a parent, there are things that are inevitable and best to accept rather than dwell upon them. One of those things - among the many and various - is that at some point, your child will smoke you at something. Whether it's skiing, basketball, height, or Civil War trivia, you cannot fight it. Instead, let the defeat wash over like a soothing, chamomile-scented bath. Think back on how chubby and cute their little baby bottom was. It doesn't seem so bad after that, because after all, you were the one to raise and encourage that little behind to grow up and do so well at whatever it is.
This is much preferred over a bumper sticker announcing the achievement. Trust me on this.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Don't Mess With the Schedule
I'm really, really tired of complaining about the snow, of talking about how much of a pain in the arse it has made getting around. There are so many real problems in the world. My adverse weather conditions issues are so minor and silly compared to real problems in the world.
Now that we have some perspective, I give you this:
The first math test of this class was scheduled for Thursday, January 31st. I would take the test, then spend the rest of the day packing for our family's sojourn to Depoe Bay, where we have sojourned as a family since the mid-1980's. Friday, we would leave and it would be stress-free and fun, because it's vacation! That WAS the plan. What actually happened was, well, a picture would tell you all you need to know:
S!N!O!W! Thursday morning I woke up to snow, and the test was cancelled because the college was closed. I emailed the professor. I had no choice but to wait until Friday morning when I could check the status of the college. Luckily, I had the option of going to the testing center to take the test out of regular class times. That is what I did on Friday.
Except, when I got to the testing center at 8:55 am, there was no test there. I had to call the professor at home - luckily, she had given out her home number, otherwise, screwed! - and she trekked up to school right away and brought the test to me.
One hour later, the test was done. Eleven hours later, OC and I were hanging with these people:
You might recognize some of the women from previous posts. These are my girlfriends from way back. I went through school with them and we've known each other for something like.....holy crap, 28 years, is that right? I'm asking you like you know.
The guy in blue on the left walked with me at our 8th grade graduation. The guy in white on the right was also a classmate. That's such a formal word, classmate. This situation calls for a synonym.
A synonym search revealed the alternative options are:
day pupil
school boy
school girl
school kid
school lad.
Classmate it is!
Speaking of school girl, here is another one.
There are a lot of stories surrounding the people in these pictures. Such as, I used to smoke cigarettes at the halftime of football games with the school girl, above. We were cheerleaders, which explains why we only had halftime to get the smoking done. A friend from the first picture used to borrow her mom's car - unbeknownst to her mom - when she was 14. We grew up in a small town, most of us lived several miles out of town. One day, she accidentally ran over one of their guinea hens because they usually got out of the way. That was a tough one to explain away to her mom and step-father.
Good times!
It must be said that I took pains to pack lightly for this vacation. I managed to accomplish this when it came to clothes (the black duffel bag contains outfits for EIGHT DAYS, people) but, being gone for such a long time necessitates many shiny objects to pacify my attention-deficit self. The other bags are full of knitting projects, books, math homework, laptop, thank-you notes to write from Christmas, extra shoes, games, art projects, and OC's toys.
My mom came to visit, so this was the view in my rearview mirror:
What did we find to do on the Oregon Coast? Grandma took OC to the aquarium so I could do my math homework. We visited a tea shop which has a hedgehog in residence. I have never seen a hedgehog before, and now that I've seen one I'm thinking it's not a bad idea. Just look at this adorable thing:
It's Mrs. Tiggywinkle!
Not really. It's a boy, and his name is Horace.
OC loved Horace the hedgehog. Of course, she also loved their two dogs and their cat.
It's funny how much our routines matter to us, and how flummoxed we (some of us) get when they are disrupted. That was the underlying issue to all this kvetching.
I was glad to have time with OC outside of our normal routine, where I worry about getting to school on time, having enough clean jeans for her during the week, homework, and all the other hundreds of things to do with daily life. Distance from that plus spending time in such a peaceful place which overlooks the Pacific Ocean felt fantastic. I think OC enjoys the escape as well. Talk about creating memories, who's going to forget that hedgehog???
This week's weather: not a snowflake in sight.
Now that we have some perspective, I give you this:
The first math test of this class was scheduled for Thursday, January 31st. I would take the test, then spend the rest of the day packing for our family's sojourn to Depoe Bay, where we have sojourned as a family since the mid-1980's. Friday, we would leave and it would be stress-free and fun, because it's vacation! That WAS the plan. What actually happened was, well, a picture would tell you all you need to know:
S!N!O!W! Thursday morning I woke up to snow, and the test was cancelled because the college was closed. I emailed the professor. I had no choice but to wait until Friday morning when I could check the status of the college. Luckily, I had the option of going to the testing center to take the test out of regular class times. That is what I did on Friday.
Except, when I got to the testing center at 8:55 am, there was no test there. I had to call the professor at home - luckily, she had given out her home number, otherwise, screwed! - and she trekked up to school right away and brought the test to me.
One hour later, the test was done. Eleven hours later, OC and I were hanging with these people:
You might recognize some of the women from previous posts. These are my girlfriends from way back. I went through school with them and we've known each other for something like.....holy crap, 28 years, is that right? I'm asking you like you know.
The guy in blue on the left walked with me at our 8th grade graduation. The guy in white on the right was also a classmate. That's such a formal word, classmate. This situation calls for a synonym.
A synonym search revealed the alternative options are:
day pupil
school boy
school girl
school kid
school lad.
Classmate it is!
Speaking of school girl, here is another one.
There are a lot of stories surrounding the people in these pictures. Such as, I used to smoke cigarettes at the halftime of football games with the school girl, above. We were cheerleaders, which explains why we only had halftime to get the smoking done. A friend from the first picture used to borrow her mom's car - unbeknownst to her mom - when she was 14. We grew up in a small town, most of us lived several miles out of town. One day, she accidentally ran over one of their guinea hens because they usually got out of the way. That was a tough one to explain away to her mom and step-father.
Good times!
It must be said that I took pains to pack lightly for this vacation. I managed to accomplish this when it came to clothes (the black duffel bag contains outfits for EIGHT DAYS, people) but, being gone for such a long time necessitates many shiny objects to pacify my attention-deficit self. The other bags are full of knitting projects, books, math homework, laptop, thank-you notes to write from Christmas, extra shoes, games, art projects, and OC's toys.
My mom came to visit, so this was the view in my rearview mirror:
What did we find to do on the Oregon Coast? Grandma took OC to the aquarium so I could do my math homework. We visited a tea shop which has a hedgehog in residence. I have never seen a hedgehog before, and now that I've seen one I'm thinking it's not a bad idea. Just look at this adorable thing:
It's Mrs. Tiggywinkle!
Not really. It's a boy, and his name is Horace.
OC loved Horace the hedgehog. Of course, she also loved their two dogs and their cat.
It's funny how much our routines matter to us, and how flummoxed we (some of us) get when they are disrupted. That was the underlying issue to all this kvetching.
I was glad to have time with OC outside of our normal routine, where I worry about getting to school on time, having enough clean jeans for her during the week, homework, and all the other hundreds of things to do with daily life. Distance from that plus spending time in such a peaceful place which overlooks the Pacific Ocean felt fantastic. I think OC enjoys the escape as well. Talk about creating memories, who's going to forget that hedgehog???
This week's weather: not a snowflake in sight.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Central Oregon Blogger Meet-Up
If you have a blog and you live in Central Oregon, you might be interested to know there is a gathering scheduled:
February 21st
5:30 pm
Blacksmith, 211 NW Greenwood Ave, Bend
I will be there, what else do you need to know?!?
RSVP shanlee at gmail.com
February 21st
5:30 pm
Blacksmith, 211 NW Greenwood Ave, Bend
I will be there, what else do you need to know?!?
RSVP shanlee at gmail.com
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