tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67976738130257884132024-03-13T20:14:10.558-07:00Make It Happen MamaI'm Emily, just another working woman/wife/mother trying to keep everything in balance and perspective!Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.comBlogger176125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-66014572784918199072014-02-26T23:11:00.000-08:002014-02-26T23:15:06.208-08:00Grandparents' Day Quilt<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #274e13;">I'm happy to report that I have finished all I can do on the lovely Grandparents' Day quilt. As with the breakfast club aprons, I never had enough time to work on this quilt while at work over the past few months, so I took advantage of my post-op downtime to finish up this project, as well. My dear husband helped me out taking a photograph last night (below) after I had basted the edging so, while this is not the completely finished project, it gives you an idea of what the quilt looks like. Now all that is left is for my residents to add the finishing touches (tying the joining blocks with yarn) and then we will be hanging it on the wall in the dining room for all to see. The dining room is the largest common space at our building, where almost all of our activities take place - as well as where all meals are served. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Let me back up a bit, though. To celebrate Grandparents' Day in September, we had a family luncheon and set up several craft stations for where residents and their visiting family members could get creative together. One of the stations had quilt squares, paint, and permanent markers, and we encouraged them to make a handprint square to become part of a wallhanging quilt we would make to commemorate the day. Some of my favorite features: </span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">One resident's granddaughter encouraged her to write "love" and "grandchild" in Japanese on their block. This resident is originally from Japan, but has been in the US for approximately half a century. It is always lovely to experience someone's personal heritage and culture, but becomes even more meaningful when they are reaching the end of life transition.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">A resident's grandson painted a red heart and then placed his handprints over it, writing below it, "Your heart is in good hands."</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">One resident's daughter put one thumb over the other and squeezed her fingers together so the resulting handprint looks like a butterfly. She drew a face and antennae on it, writing "butterfly kisses" below the print. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">One of our wonderful nonagenarian resident wrote below her handprints, "This is what my girls used to do in school."</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">A resident's son kept it simple, writing simply, "I love you, mom" - what mom wouldn't love that??</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Next up, I sat down with the completed handprint squares (which, technically, were rectangles) and did some arranging and math, figuring out what size rectangles and squares we would need to connect all these wonderful memories in a visually please manner. Then I made cardboard templates so the residents could easily trace them onto cotton from our scrap bags (and those scrap bags are very full - we get a LOT of donations!). They worked on it during crafts for several weeks, picking the fabric, tracing the connecting pieces, cutting them (leaving a 1/2" seam allowance around them), and deciding where they should go in the quilt. I functioned as "the little sewing monkey" and zipped it all together on my beloved machine for them. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">It was midway into this process that one of our most active residents passed away unexpectedly one evening. When her family came to collect her belongings the next day, her daughter asked me for the quilt square they had made together - it had her and her mother's handprints overlapping on it and she wanted to frame it at her house. Completely understandable, right? Still a bit of challenge to gently snip it out of the pieced quilt top without damaging the square or the quilt, though, but I did it and she was grateful. So how do you replace a square made with love by someone now deceased? I settled on printing a photo of a sunset with the phrase, "till we meet again," superimposed on it. Seemed appropriate. I transferred the photo to a new quilt square using the simple wax paper/inkjet printer/spoon method and then used shimmering puffy paint to outline the words. I'm pleased with how it turned out; a fitting tribute for a lovely lady, but not so ostentatious that it overpowers the rest of the quilt.</span></div>
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<br />Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-69126423700515013742014-02-19T12:27:00.000-08:002014-02-26T18:50:25.298-08:00A Handful of Cherries<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: purple;">Last night I had what is probably the worst night of sleep in my recent memory. Apparently, knocking off the narcotics post-surgery has impacted my body a little more than I expected. So now I'm upright and feeling at a loss for what to get done today. That's the problem - I'm not entirely sure that I can get anything DONE. There are so many things to do and I have so little energy that I find myself just sitting on the couch and feeling overwhelmed. Clearly not the most efficient way of dealing with life, right? </span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">So in an effort to feel like I'm getting something done, something that will be appreciated, I've dug into the bags I brought home from work last week and pulled out three pretty cherry-printed cottons that have been earmarked since early fall to become beautiful, ruffly aprons for my staff to wear for the special breakfast we do for our residents and staff once a month. Oddly enough, I haven't had time to sew them at work or at home in the past six months. I'm choosing to take that as a sign that I'm working my butt off at work, but that also means that I generally get home exhausted & just want to go to bed. </span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">I'm using a free pattern I got over at <a href="http://joann.com/" target="_blank">JoAnn</a>, called the Josephine Apron. The pattern is apparently not available anymore, which I discovered while frantically searching for it online this morning before suddenly remembering that I actually already had it. I'm glad I printed it out, but I wish I had thought to put it in the same bag as the fabric when I packed up the detritus to bring home for my fun post-op convalescence time (aka now). What you see below is all of the pattern pieces cut out. As soon as I finish writing this, I'm whipping out the pins and the sewing machine and going nuts. Because really, what feels more awesome than finishing a project?</span></div>
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<br />Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-25737506171287160552013-03-12T14:32:00.000-07:002013-03-12T14:32:35.833-07:00Breaking Up Is Hard To Do<br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Some of you already know that one of
the reasons my husband, our son, and I returned to the Pacific
Northwest from our beloved Texas was to attempt to help both of our
mothers clear out decades of stuff from their respective homes. My
mother lives in Portland, in a house just over 1,000 square feet
(which I'm fairly certain doesn't include the semi-finished basement
or attic), encompassing 2 bedrooms and 1 bathroom, while my husband's
mother lives in the suburbs of Tacoma, in a sprawling house of 2,245
square feet (which may or may not include the garage), which has 5
bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. My mother has lived in her home 26 years,
since my parents were divorced; his mother has lived in her home 34
years, the majority of those with her husband (now deceased), who
collected as much stuff as she has. For year, my husband thought his
father was the clutterbug, that his parents had so much stuff because
he wouldn't let go and kept bringing things into the house. After his
death, however, it soon became apparent that my sweet mother-in-law
(MIL for the sake of brevity here) has just as many issues with stuff
as my father-in-law did. Just, you know, different stuff. While he
had a habit of hanging on to decades-old bowling trophies and books
and ordering things from infomercials (am I the only person who has
actually seen Billy the Singing Bass up close and personal on
Christmas morning?) she tends more towards food/kitchen contraptions
and shoes. Those are only the main categories for each of them, mind
you.
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Anyhow, when I took the job in
Portland, one of the reasons the boys moved in with my MIL in Tacoma
(other than the fact that my husband got a job there) was so my
husband could help his mom clear out & do some light remodeling
on her house so she can sell it and move down with one of her sons &
his wife in Phoenix. Obviously, you can't expect to sell a house when
it is crammed full of clutter. But that was 20 months ago, y'all. And
while my husband guesstimated it would take a good 2 years to go
through everything and get it cleared out, I can tell you that only 2
rooms in the house are ready for sale: our son's bedroom (which was
my husband's growing up, aaaaw!) and the main bathroom. My husband's
room (which is also my room when I'm in Tacoma, hee hee) was
decluttered, but has not yet been painted or had the carpeting
replaced. Rooms that haven't been touched? The living room, the
kitchen, the dining room, the den, 2 more downstairs bedroom, the
large upstairs bedroom (which includes several “attic” closets),
the garage, the laundry room, the 2<sup>nd</sup> bathroom, and a
utility room. Oh, did I mention there are also two locked sheds in
the backyard, one for her and one for him? My husband once mentioned
the last time he saw the inside of either shed was in the mid-80s,
and they were both crammed to the rafters. The backyard is also
filled with decrepit grills, toys, tools, and various paraphernalia.
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<span style="color: #274e13;">So I think I can safely surmise that
the decluttering plan has not gone exactly, well, according to plan.
So I'm stepping in, gingerly. It's like edging on to a field full of
live mines, I swear. While I consider myself an effective organizer
in all types of situation, the particular combination of people
involved in this clutter (my husband and my MIL, two of my most
beloved people in the world) make it very difficult for me to be as
ruthless and analytical as I can be with friends, colleagues, and
strangers. Common sense and logic hold no sway in this crazy, mixed
up, stuffed full world. Forget the 1-year rule; in this house,
there's not even a 30-year rule. If you ask my MIL if she would
rather have her clutter or the space in her home, she will
undoubtedly tell you the stuff. My husband claims it border on
pathological. Take, for example, the bedroom that was his father's
for the last years of his life. After his death, my husband and 2 of
his brothers purged the bedroom ruthlessly, dumping almost everything
within days, before the funeral even. They had the stained carpet
ripped out, replaced it with easy-to-clean laminate wood, painted the
walls and replaced broken fixtures. We returned to Texas feeling
confident that at least one room of the house was clean. That was in
August. When we returned to visit at Christmas, the room was filled,
to the point that you couldn't even walk in. My husband posits that
there is an actual fear of space at work here.
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<span style="color: #274e13;">I get it, I do. She's a 73-year-old
black woman. She was raised in rural Louisiana, the segregated South,
and never had enough as a child. She then became a military wife,
moving all over the world before her husband retired at Fort Lewis
(now Joint Base Lewis-McCord). She raised 4 boys, the fourth of whom
(my husband) is nearly 20 years younger than the oldest. Until her
husband died several years ago, my MIL had never lived alone. Ever.
But I also understand that her stuff owns her. It's keeping her from
living the life she says she wants to live (retired in Phoenix with
her son & daughter-in-law). It's not healthy. It's not at the
point of people feces, like you see on that hoarding show on TV, but
as I priced & boxed up some things in preparation for a yard sale
today, I found mice droppings. I also worry about my son eating
expired/spoiled food. Sigh. Finally, I know that if we don't deal
with this situation now, my husband and I will be dealing with it
after she dies. It's frustrating, especially since I'm used to being
the professional help, but I'm starting to think that we're going to
have to bring in some other professional help, someone who isn't
related to her. Sigh. Seriously, y'all, help me out. I know what to do when it comes to decluttering and organizing, I just don't know if it's worth it trying to do it in this particular situation or if I should figure out a way to pay someone else to do it. Thoughts?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;"><i><a href="http://img4-3.realsimple.timeinc.net/images/home-organizing/organizing/0405/dividing-boxes-clutter_300.jpg" target="_blank">photo credit</a></i></span></div>
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Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-9997696815526827432013-03-04T18:05:00.001-08:002013-03-04T18:06:10.013-08:00A Funny Thing Happened at the Baby Shower...<br />
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<a href="http://0.tqn.com/d/pregnancy/1/0/7/0/4/sb10069565b-002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://0.tqn.com/d/pregnancy/1/0/7/0/4/sb10069565b-002.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://pregnancy.about.com/od/birthplans/ss/Cesarean-Section-Birth-Plans.htm" target="_blank"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">photo credit</span></i></a></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">It's amazing how uttering the words, "I had a c-section," completely shuts down a conversation about childbirth. Nobody asks to hear your "birthing story" - is almost seems like, in the eyes of some other mothers, you haven't given birth. Which, of course, is ridiculous. If I didn't give birth to my son, how exactly do you think he got here? He certainly wasn't hatched from a giant blue robin's egg. Nor did we build him out of spare parts, like Frankenstein. It's hurtful when other women assume you have nothing to contribute to a discussion about childbirth because your baby came out of a surgical incision in your abdomen instead of your vagina. Am I supposed to be ashamed of the way my son came into the world? Like somehow, I didn't fulfill my destiny as a woman, or what? And if that is the case, what about the mommies who adopt? Is your effectiveness as a mother dependent on the way your child enters the world? I say no, and I resent the implicit idea that someone who births their child "naturally" is doing what is best for their baby because they love their baby more than someone else. Self-righteous, party of 1, anyone?</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">Unlike some other c-section mommies I have spoken with, I don't feel as though I was somehow cheated out of my ideal birthing experience. Honestly, I wasn't too hot on the whole idea of a vaginal delivery, and 29 hours of induced labor did nothing to increase my enthusiasm. Yes, that's right, 29 hours. And that is after 42 weeks of carrying my child, 14 days past full term. I have the stretch marks, the saggy tummy, and a 6 inch scar that say I gave birth, no matter what anyone else says. I also had a doctor who decided my 10 lb 9 oz bundle of joy was stuck trying to get through my cervix and it was time to take him out another way. I don't regret having a c-section. I don't regret going through labor. I don't regret having our sweet Monkey Boy. I do regret going so many years allow myself to be shut out of these types of conversations without standing up for myself and our birthing story.</span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;">So consider yourself warned, women of the world, when you run into this topic with me at a baby shower, at a mommy's night out, at the grocery store, on Facebook: I am no longer putting up with people expressing negative judgments about any woman's birthing story. C-section mommies of the world, rejoice! We have healthy, beautiful children who could care less which hole they came out of, or even if the hole was in our body or another woman's! How they come out doesn't matter; how we raise them once they're out does. </span></div>
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Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-85031278660552458302012-11-21T19:07:00.000-08:002012-11-21T19:07:56.905-08:00Pancakes & Parties & Knitting Like Crazy<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #274e13;">Well, it's been an eventful week. I thought I'd share a few key moments with you. First, I spoiled myself by whipping up some tasty pancakes on Saturday morning. My favorite, fluffy recipe (not useful when the boys are around, as they prefer thin, crepe-like pancakes) that are absolutely delicious served warm or cold with raspberry jam and sour cream. I'm actually drooling just thinking about it now!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Because I love y'all, I'll share the recipe:</span><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple;">Make It Happen Mama's Favorite Fluffy Pancakes</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple;">Ingredients</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">1 1/2 cups flour</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">3 1/2 teaspoons baking powder</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">1 Tablespoon white sugar</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">1 teaspoon salt</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">3 Tablespoon melted butter</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">1 egg</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">1 1/4 cups milk</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: purple;">Directions</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">1. Spray a frying pan and heat it over low-medium heat</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">2. In a large bowl, mix together the dry ingredients, then mix in the wet ingredients until it is smooth.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">3. Spoon about 1/4 cup for each pancake</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">4. Cook for about 5 minutes on each side</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">5. Serve with raspberry jam and sour cream - yum!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Saturday night was fantastically exhausting. My dear friend </span><span style="color: #274e13; text-align: justify;">Anne and I have known each other since about 1990 through Highland dancing. Anne is now married with two beautiful children and is ridiculously crafty and creative. She is also a <a href="https://anne.scentsy.us/Scentsy/Home" target="_blank">Scentsy representative</a> and has her own <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Annes-Shabby-Shoppe/123680087653966?fref=ts" target="_blank">custom refinished furniture & home decor store</a>. You may have heard me mention the monthly knitting nights Anne sponsors during the school year - she decided last year she wanted to learn to knit and figured it would be more fun with friends! In keeping with her many talent, this past Saturday, Anne threw a ladies' night crafty/knitting night in celebration of her birthday the day before. </span><span style="color: #274e13;">I have always loved the fact that Anne is 3 months older than me; it's nice to have a friend who can charge ahead into the next year and report back on what to expect! The party was fantastically fun, and though I chose to sit and happily knit this time, next time I will definitely need to try some of the fantastic crafts my girl had prepared. My favorite was the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_NjYbAAQ4vw" target="_blank">transferring photos onto wood blocks </a>- so cool!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;">I left the birthday party a wee bit early to head over to my friend Angie's CD Release Party at <a href="http://www.sellwoodpublichouse.com/" target="_blank">Sellwood Public House</a> in SE Portland. When's the last time you had two social events on one evening? It's been at least a couple years for me. Mind-blowing for this mama, seriously. So my husband had asked me to call him back as I left the birthday party. Imagine my surprise when he announced he was in Portland, waiting at my tiny apartment, and could I swing by and pick him up on the way to the CD Release Party - wow!! What a fantastic surprise! Of course we managed to get lost (Sellwood Public House seems to be our personal Bermuda Triangle, seriously) but managed to catch the last 4 songs of <a href="http://www.reverbnation.com/stonefacehoney" target="_blank">Stoneface Honey</a>'s set and spend some quality time with some good friends at the party. Angie's music is so fantastic - I wish I were half the talented songwriter she is, seriously. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Monday I attempted to get a photo of little Monkey Boy catching up on Men's Health on his way to a Highland dance lesson. Sadly, Monkey is much faster at avoiding his mama-razzi than he used to be, hence the closed eyes and semi-closed magazine! Oh well, it was cute seeing him in the rearview mirror, anyway. Monday was also momentous because this particular Highland dance lesson was Monkey's first time taking a lesson from a MAN teacher. The excitement was palpable! Monkey came away with some great tips on having strong boy jumps, manly arms, and trying his first tidbit of the Seann Triubhas - brushes. In super-slow motion and without changing feet, of course, but you gotta start somewhere!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn5_8rw8q_1E2yyd6vduN2fCH4t_3JtNAzU03BntBXVjvcab1QNY7GmOIHOiDRHD4vp4ENzxY2YolSaV3pOfrbF53PazeCF2xEOUCkRP8RXoN-3WjGHXgQt9WKOMmt-szctFohdrDrFx95/s1600/Tacoma-20121119-01202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn5_8rw8q_1E2yyd6vduN2fCH4t_3JtNAzU03BntBXVjvcab1QNY7GmOIHOiDRHD4vp4ENzxY2YolSaV3pOfrbF53PazeCF2xEOUCkRP8RXoN-3WjGHXgQt9WKOMmt-szctFohdrDrFx95/s320/Tacoma-20121119-01202.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;">Finally, I've been in crazy knitting mode for the past few weeks, thanks to the arrival of my newest nephew (my sister doesn't like her kids' names on the internet, but I will give you the hint that this one is named after a body of water - an improper noun), the revival of monthly knitting nights, and the aforementioned crafty/knitting birthday party. Anywho, one of Monkey's teddies helped me out by modeling one of my new little creations for the nephew-who-will-not-be-named. Full pattern link to come later, along with more photos, but let me just say for now that I added about an inch of width and length to this little striped number - new nephew was a whopper at 9 pounds, 10 ounces! Not quite as big as Monkey was (10 pounds, 9 ounces) but I had a cesarean. My sister did a home delivery with this baby, #4, and no medication. Ouch!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGIrhAqj6ufPqXS5fcQPoS943bl2Ko6eE0PZcw7oAjD_W5Do608gw_3UWJF4l5HFLZVa4TL3Kbc1qnAYHZ9NrJBthjxyoweOVXedpM0vjSsMZB21_K08YpPigYikPVgnKiNOiCUhpZQzn8/s1600/Tacoma-20121119-01206.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGIrhAqj6ufPqXS5fcQPoS943bl2Ko6eE0PZcw7oAjD_W5Do608gw_3UWJF4l5HFLZVa4TL3Kbc1qnAYHZ9NrJBthjxyoweOVXedpM0vjSsMZB21_K08YpPigYikPVgnKiNOiCUhpZQzn8/s320/Tacoma-20121119-01206.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #274e13;">I sense this hat will stretch out a little more when placed upon new nephew's head... </span><br />
<br />Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-76988488598406599742012-11-13T21:29:00.000-08:002012-11-13T21:30:13.089-08:00It's Not All Bad. Really.<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="color: #4c1130;">Since it tends to pop up in conversations, I’m assuming most
of you already know my husband and I have been living 200 miles apart for the
past 17 months. If this is news to you and you are like most people I know,
there are probably at least a few questions running through your head, the first
of which is likely to be something about the health of my marriage. Good news:
Despite what the church mothers at my mother-in-law's church think (secret divorce), we’re happily married. Celebrating 7 years next month, actually. But my job is
in Portland and his job is in Tacoma. So now, assuming all of this information
has not completely blown your mind and you’re still paying attention, how about
this tidbit that makes most folks’ mouths drop open: this is not our first time
living apart, it’s our third. In fact, in the 10 years we’ve been together, Mr.
MIHM and I have spent a total of 2 years and 9 months living in separate
states. Yes, I said states. The first time was 12 months with him in Washington
and me in Virginia (approximately 2,700 miles distance) – I tackled my first
year of grad school while he finished up his undergraduate degree; the second
time was 4 months with him & Monkey in Washington and me in Texas
(approximately 2,200 miles distance) – I completed my clinical internship at a
children’s hospital in Dallas while he & Monday set up shop in Tacoma,
where I was supposed to join them post-internship…until my husband visited me
and fell in love with DFW, as I had; and now there is the (relatively) short
distance of 144 miles that we take turns traversing almost every weekend. As
one of my friends joked, at least we’re headed in the right direction, with the
miles apart getting smaller each time. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #4c1130;">So guess what? Although all of my friends and families are
co-habitating with their spouses (as far as I know), apparently, Mr. MIHM and I
are not alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently, there is a
name for couples who are together but live apart, whether due to jobs or by
choice: Living Apart Together, or LAT for short. So how does one use that
knowledge in conversation? As a noun, like, “My husband and I are LAT-ers”? Or
is it more verbish, as in, “My husband and I LAT due to our careers”? I’m not
really sure, but it seems worth doing some casual research. Another term I’ve
found for people in our situation is being in a Commuter Marriage, and <a href="http://www.blogger.com/(http://usatoday30.usatoday.com/news/health/wellness/story/2012-02-20/Together-apart-Commuter-marriages-on-the-rise/53170648/1)" target="_blank">more than 3.5 million couples in the US do it</a>.
My husband and I join the ranks with traveling salesmen, migrant workers, the
incarcerated(!), and soldiers on deployment. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #4c1130;">Anyhow, I bring all this up not to impress you with my
research skills or wow you with statistics (although, I’m hoping you love
statistics as much as I do), but to share some of the benefits Mr. MIHM and I
have found in living apart while still being together. Yes, believe it or not,
despite the many obvious (and sometimes overwhelming) negatives, there are some
positives to be found!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #4c1130;"> <span style="color: #274e13;"> <b><span style="color: #4c1130;">1. When we are together, we are more likely to
focus on being together</span></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4c1130;">Because our time is limited, I try not to make other plans
on our family weekends. When you hardly get to see your family, even running
errands (finding new sneakers for Monkey, going to the dry cleaner, grocery
shopping) can make for a fun afternoon. And, as my husband just relayed via text message (it's a Tuesday, after all), "Freshness. Feeling like you're dating again, at times." Indeed, we have been on many more actual dates during the past 17 months than probably the entire 5 years we lived in Texas. Makes me feel like we're going to have to try harder when we're co-habitating again!</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"></span></span></span> <b> 2. Less wife/mommy (or husband/daddy) guilt on the weekdays</b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #4c1130;">When I need to work late unexpectedly or have work events in
the evenings, it doesn’t affect my family in the same way it did in Texas. When
one of my childhood friends hosts her monthly weekday knitting nights, I can
RSVP without wondering what my boys have going on that evening. When I feel
like knitting a baby hat and watching Ugly Betty DVDs until I’m ready to go to
bed, I do. Yes, it’s lonely. But it’s also led to me attempting to have a
social life and to indulge in things I may not have time for when we’re all
living together. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #4c1130;"></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"></span></span></span> <b>3. More appreciation for helping out around the
house</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4c1130;">I got to spend a week with my boys in October. One day,
while my husband was at work, I washed, dried & folded five loads of
laundry. He was thrilled! In September, my husband spent a long weekend with me
in Portland. While I was at an all-day Saturday work event, he scrubbed my
bathroom & kitchen until they were sparkling. While these tasks all fall
within our usual division of labors when we’re living together, it really makes
you appreciate the other person when you no longer take that task being done
for granted. As I brush my teeth over my currently less-than-luminous bathroom
sink this evening, I will think fondly of my dear, sweet husband and his
exemplary sanitation skills – and I can only hope he will feel similarly the
next time he runs out of clean undies!</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"></span></span></span> <b>4. Less dancing around the issues</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4c1130;">Family weekends are somewhat of a microcosm of our regular
family life when we all lived in the same home. We still share the joys, the
sorrow, the happiness, the anger – but in shorter face-to-face chunks. For me,
a people pleaser and avoider of confrontations by nature, this means that I
have had to step up my communication game. It’s a lot harder to go to bed angry
with your spouse when you know he has to go home the next morning. So we say
what we both need to say, I cry, sometimes we yell – but is generally gets
worked out within a few hours. Or at least we can agree to disagree for the
moment and to try and work it out more in-depth via Skype or telephone over the
next week. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"></span></span></span> <b> 5. Week-long foreplay</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4c1130;">I know, I’m pretty G-rated on this blog but, hey, we’ve been
together 10 years and we have a 7-year-old. Clearly, we’ve been having sex.
And, although living apart limits the frequency of our rendezvous, it has also
led to an increase in sexting, suggestive emails, X-rated phone calls – in other
words, an increase in long-distance foreplay. The drawback? I have to be
careful not to let anyone rifle through the photos on my Blackberry. The
benefit? Use your imagination, dear reader, and imagine me with a big smile on
my face when I say that!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #4c1130;">So what about you? Have you ever lived apart from your
spouse and/or have you ever wanted to? Do you have friends or family members
who LAT due to jobs or by choice? What do you think about this living
situation? Since it’s a weekday, I’ll have plenty of time to read your reply
after work tomorrow ;-)</span></div>
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Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-89847254928660298002012-11-11T11:29:00.002-08:002012-11-11T11:29:25.500-08:00I'm Making the Time<span style="color: #274e13;">So I may not have this "slow down" lifestyle down pat. After a blissful 10 days up in Tacoma with my family, I arrived home late last Monday night, hurled my bags on the couch, and fell into bed. The next four days were a blur of work and errands, then a big day yesterday with Monkey Boy competing at a Highland dance competition in the morning and more errands and family time with both Daddy & Monkey in the afternoon. My boys headed back North around 9 pm last night, as Monkey is singing at his Granny's church in honor of Veteran's Day this morning. I won't say I'm not sad to see them go (as always), but having today to unpack from my last trip, do laundry, do dishes, mealplan for the week, etc. is necessary, if not the most exciting way to spend a Sunday. So I'm making this my "slow down" day - a little laundry here, a little dishwashing there, all interspersed with some email checking, book reading, paper shredding, receipt scanning, all done to the background of a self-declared Sex & the City Marathon playing on my computer. Am I the only person who still adores that show? I like it more the older I get, actually.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #274e13;">One of my "slow down" goals is to spend more time here, reflecting on what's going on in our little world and trying to keep myself sane and balanced. So I apologize in advance if some of my posts (like this one) are really more rambling thoughts than useful information, projects, etc. What can I say? I'm learning how to put myself first - the ultimate challenge for a working wife & mom. </span><br />
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Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-74312851760250418132012-10-21T17:06:00.001-07:002012-10-21T17:08:01.621-07:00Fine, I'll Slow Down<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: #fce5cd;"><i><span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: #274e13;">[Note: This was written in bed a little more than a week ago, roughly 12 hours before I made an unexpected trip to the emergency room due to unbearable pain]</span></span></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: purple;">Are you an overachiever? Are you a people-pleaser? Do you put everyone and everything else before your own needs? It's hard to balance life when you are a wife, a mother, and have a full-time job...and when do you find the time to just be a woman? And in the case that you figure out how to make time for yourself, how do you decide what pat of you take priority? Do you focus on your mental health needs? Do you make time for social interaction? Do you process your emotional responses to the hazards of daily life? Do you take the time to connect with your higher power? Do you care for yourself physically, as in exercise, nutritious food, *and* enough sleep? </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: purple;">That's the part that's definitely being neglected for me right now - my physical needs. I feel compeltely disconnected from my physical being and my body is apparently not feeling the love. When I was younger, such blatant disregard for my own shell resulted in the really bas respiratory infections, the ones that incited asthma attacks and led to wheezing that lasted for weeks. Since turning 30, the full-body shutdown source has moved further south - directly into my digestive system. The more time and energy I put everywhere else, the more my guts revolt: cramping, gas, indigestion, diarrhea, constipation, bloating, tenderness and sore spots, as well as full-body symptoms of fever, fatigue, sore joints, and achiness from my bellybutton to my knees. Standing hurts, sitting hurts, walking hurts. The only semi-tolerable position is propped on one side, stretched out in bed, surrounded by pillows. Which is why I'm writing this on a yellow legal pad with a pallpoint pen. I'm guessing blogging while bedridden is probably much easier with a laptop than a desktop.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: purple;">I wish I had some insightful, lovely way to wrap up what is really a dismal, gross post - I mean, who really wants to read about my angry guts? It's distasteful enough for me to deal with and write about and they're part of *my* body. My weekend has been spent heating water for tea, motivating myself to chug water, taking acetaminophen as often as allowed, and trying to keep myself calm and physically relaxed during too-frequent trips to the bathroom. You know your body is trying to tell you something when you can't pee without abdominal cramping. So not cool.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: purple;">But I got nothing. All I know is I don't know what to do, just that I have to do something. It seems like the first step will be slowing down and trying to figure out what I can change. So, fine, I'll slow down.</span><br />
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Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-90397405290852471272012-10-09T02:06:00.000-07:002012-10-09T02:06:02.437-07:00It's 2 am. Do You Know Where Your REM Is?<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #274e13;">I'm either losing my mind or elevating it to some higher state of being, one in which sleep is not required. Yeah, right, I know - probably the former. What the heck is going on with my sleep cycles? I'd like to know. When I'm with my husband, I sleep like a baby. Almost too well, actually. As he told me a few weeks ago, he would prefer to spend a few of our short hours together each month with me *awake* - touche, Mr. Make It Happen...touche. Regardless, though, I seem not to be sleeping at all on Sunday, Monday, or Tuesday nights. Wednesday often sees a few more hours and Thursday is practically a full night. Friday and Saturday, even when husband-less, are generally decent. Which makes me think, right now this minute, at 2:03 am (a mere 4 hours and 42 minutes before my alarm will go off), what is keeping my brain going for so many extra hours each evening? Wish I could tell ya' - heck, I wish I could tell *me*! All I know if I'll try to keep myself going until Thursday night, when I can begin to catch up again. Sigh. SIGH!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13;"> </span>Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-48903705674315285272012-09-23T20:06:00.002-07:002012-09-23T20:07:36.394-07:00Crockpot Apple Hot Cereal<span style="color: #4c1130;">Fall has especially begun and thank goodness for that! I am sooo ready for the apples and cinnamon and pumpkins that fill the kitchen for fall baking - yum! My wonderful dad brought me a dozen apples from his "farm" (aka the apple tree in his backyard) last week, so of course I had to whip out my slow cooker and turn these delicious pommes into a breakfast-worthy hot cereal. I give you Crockpot Apple Hot Cereal!</span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4SHyBtgLN55FyUPR0hVrheNt_pxCMj5SU3gQoy-pWchl_ajhgxLfIpf9TPlCwXDBevRuiop3ztnh1AcZHM-XT168Drl5NJSF6kgss4JfDuxpPVlOWjP6slwudpbcZj_oNgYI0rrhVqjIZ/s1600/IMG-20120918-00917.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4SHyBtgLN55FyUPR0hVrheNt_pxCMj5SU3gQoy-pWchl_ajhgxLfIpf9TPlCwXDBevRuiop3ztnh1AcZHM-XT168Drl5NJSF6kgss4JfDuxpPVlOWjP6slwudpbcZj_oNgYI0rrhVqjIZ/s320/IMG-20120918-00917.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="color: #4c1130;">Crockpot Apple Hot Cereal </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">Ingredients</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">12 peeled, sliced apples</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">2 cups granola</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">1 T cinnamon </span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">1/4 cup honey</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">2 T melted butter</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnMqkDyZZPBpy3FOBMAnchV9UFMHq6ds6qb6yWAPsLUKB4BVWVZVJcMXF-U2rFIJhoM8vruFYm1J4_gPnBgzaZCJiDVUakNEij-ZcV6nhRVPWHQocylT1UGv7CNCrKIeabmvGs1Ym64Sk/s1600/IMG-20120919-00918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnMqkDyZZPBpy3FOBMAnchV9UFMHq6ds6qb6yWAPsLUKB4BVWVZVJcMXF-U2rFIJhoM8vruFYm1J4_gPnBgzaZCJiDVUakNEij-ZcV6nhRVPWHQocylT1UGv7CNCrKIeabmvGs1Ym64Sk/s320/IMG-20120919-00918.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="color: #4c1130;"> </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">Directions</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">1. Spray inside of your crockpot with nonstick cooking spray</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">2. Put apples, granola, and cinnamon in the crockpot and mix it well</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">3. Stir together honey and melted butter and mix it into the apple mixture</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">4. Put on the crockpot lid and cook on low for 5 hours or until the apples are cooked</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;">5. Serve plain or with a dollop of plain or vanilla yogurt on top</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">Refrigerate the leftovers in individual portions for super-easy weekday morning breakfasts. </span></span>Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-48598631575617377832012-09-10T15:46:00.010-07:002012-09-10T16:17:24.139-07:00A Full Weekend of Family Time<br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size:100%;">All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go. Although, unlike John Denver, I'll be catching a train, not a plane, this evening - at least I can thank God for *that* small favor! Regardless, I can definitely relate to the elephant of emotions currently sitting on my chest, weighing down my lungs and making it physically hard to breathe. As soon as my husband gets home from work, we're heading downtown to have an early family dinner and then they're putting me on the train to Portland. I can't even count the number of times I have left my family for work over the past 14 months, and yet it never gets any easier. I'm sure people are getting tired of me kvetching about it, though!</span></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size:100%;">We had a great weekend, lots of family time. I took the evening train up from Portland on Thursday. It had been a long two weeks since I'd seen my husband or Monkey, which felt even longer after spending the whole summer with Monkey and lots of extra time with my husband, as well! Back-to-school is a little extreme at my apartment this year - everybody goes back to Tacoma. Friday I spent the morning volunteering in my husband's classroom, helping each student in turn dress up and take a "Hollywood headshot" to use in class activities throughout the year. Man, I'm going to have to ask my husband to write</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size:100%;"> about his fantastic classroom decor this year - it's pretty much the best Hollywood theme come to life ever! Friday afternoon was telecommuting back to the office in Portland.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size:100%;">Friday night was frantic, last-minute costume fitting & alterations (did I mention I haven't seen Monkey or his little body in 2 weeks?), all in preparation for getting up super-early on Saturday morning to drive down to the <a href="http://www.kelso.gov/visitors/highlander-festival">Kelso Highlander Festival</a> (2/3 of the way to Portland, ironically) for Monkey to compete for the very first time as a Beginner - yeah! While I think it's inhumane to have to get up at 5:30 am on a Saturday for any reason, doing something cool with Monkey and my husband is at the top of the list. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeLqzpIx-g54WKr9d6ApWMZK0e-wtUtyIfXUXnjSRiuVzZA-sAVgPRg6UQlmoDgygo5p_EpXH-voZdqmNIKzQ7EPzdeRn3T2QmgJfcFIAbSGnQjerKwmBUTYevQR-oZQwHW7CHCMLtxGWH/s400/100_0587.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5786690873292720434" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size:100%;">Monkey did the Fling for the first time in competition (or onstage at all!) and the Sword for the third time in competition, although the first time he's managed to do it as well in competition as he does for shows and in p</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size: medium; ">ractice - yeah! My husband and I were so proud that he got a 5th place medal in both dances, that he remembered his manners (stepping back after the sword to let the little ladies next to him walk off stage first - aaaw!), and that he didn't get a "stamp" (Beginners have to place 1st, 2nd, or 3rd in a Highland dance in order to get a stamp and have to get a stamp at 6 different competitions in order to move up to the next category, Novice). It sounds strange to be grateful for no stamp, I know, but one of the reasons we have Monkey in Highland is so he can learn discipline and the value of working hard at your goals. Let's just say that his practice habits haven't quite caught up with his ambitions, at this point. We're happy for him to take as long as he needs in Beginner!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size:100%;">Saturday afternoon my husband and I took a much-needed nap. Monkey did not. Two of his cousins were over (granny was watching them while their parents were at work) so Monkey was busy playing. It proved to be a bit of an issue later that evening, though, when we took Monkey to the <a href="http://www.thefair.com/puyallup-fair/">Puyallup Fair</a> for the first time. Have I mentioned my husband is a Puyallup Fair fanatic? He's been dreaming about this moment, taking his offspring to experience this magical event with him, for *years*! Needless to say, the reality of a tired, cranky, 7-year-old Monkey Boy did not live up to the husband's expectations. Sad times for him :-( I had fun, though! Probably because I went into it with only the expectation of spending time with my husband and son. Low expectations are often the key when dealing with tired children, I find. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size:100%;">Sunday was lay-around-the-house-and-be-lazy day for me, although I did spend some time helping my husband with housework. I also got together a giant pile of outgrown Monkey clothes to take to our favorite Tacoma resale shop, <a href="http://blooming-kids.com/">Blooming Kids</a>, this morning. Have I mentioned how fantastic they are? They let me bring in clothes when I'm in town and then pick up the money and clothes they can't use the next time I'm back in town. Very helpful for the mommy who commutes 200 miles to work. It was lovely to get 9 full paper bags of outgrown clothes out of Monkey's room today!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size:100%;">So yeah, overall a good weekend. Except now I have to go. Will this ever get easier?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div>Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-14356235074800761362012-09-04T21:40:00.011-07:002012-09-04T22:22:02.229-07:00Mmm, Mmm, Good!<span style="color:#330033;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIUuwxjS215WnsCNY9r1UbVidP2-AHrhohL4WX8I0h9UsYlbjj0RJ4aD5Nij1veL4SAtvLD3lBc4B7GOuzeOavGIuoDGB7yPf5gQLwfSjFtv3q5ADZ8AM6cvE2-N1s13jwvCwftT9252cI/s1600/chickenandpotatoes.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIUuwxjS215WnsCNY9r1UbVidP2-AHrhohL4WX8I0h9UsYlbjj0RJ4aD5Nij1veL4SAtvLD3lBc4B7GOuzeOavGIuoDGB7yPf5gQLwfSjFtv3q5ADZ8AM6cvE2-N1s13jwvCwftT9252cI/s400/chickenandpotatoes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5784557754397484786" border="0" /></a></span><br /><div align="justify"><span style="color:#330033;">You know what I love? When you try a new recipe, no</span><span style="color:#330033;">t really expecting too much beyond nourishment, and it ends up being entirely, deliciously </span><span style="color:#330033;">good. So good that you think, oh my goodness, how have I never made/tasted this before?!? I seriously can't wait to try this recipe on my husband and Monkey Boy the next time we're all in the same city.</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#330033;">So I started out at <a href="http://www.foodonthetable.com/site/app#home">Food on the Table </a>(sidenote: Have you tried <a href="http://www.foodonthetable.com/site/app#home">Food on the Table</a> for meal planning/grocery list making? It's amaaaazin</span><span style="color:#330033;">g! My favorite feature is it takes the budget benefits of meal planning a step further and suggests recipes based on what's currently on sale at your favorite 3 grocery stores - no more searching the sale fliers!). Found a recipe for <a href="http://www.foodonthetable.com/site/app#recipes/11373">Sour Cream Chicken & Potatoes</a> and thought it sounded tasty. Hey, I like chicken, I like potatoes - why not give it a try? I decided to mix is up a little tonight, th</span><span style="color:#330033;">ough, based on what I had available in the house and what sounded good. Oh, also based on the fact that I don't currently own a blender or a potato masher. Sad, yes? Que sera, though - here's the recipe:</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#003300;">Emily's Sour Cream Chicken & Potatoes<br /><br />Ingredients<br />4 large white potatoes<br />1 cup fresh or frozen spinach<br />3/4 cup Parmesan cheese<br />1/2 cup sour cream<br />2 T butter<br />1/2 cup frozen diced onions<br />1 clove garlic, diced<br />4 chicken breasts<br />1 can (14.5 oz) petite diced tomatoes w/garlic & olive oil, undrained<br /><br />You will also need a large pot, a large bowl, a casserole dish, a potato-peeler, a paring knife, a can opener, and a few spoons.<br /><br />Directions<br /><br />1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F<br /><br />2. Peel potatoes, put in the large pot with enough water to cover, add spinach, and bring to a boil. Cook until tender.<br /><br />3. In the large bowl, combine Parmesan cheese and sour cream. Blend with a spoon.<br /><br />4. Drain potatoes & spinach, mix into Parmesan cheese & sour cream. Mash potatoes until fairly smooth with the side of the spoon (um...feel free to use your potato masher, if you have one...just be sure to mash before adding to the cheese/sour cream mix or you'll have a big mess!)<br /><br />5. In the large pot (which will now smell yummy like potatoes & spinach) saute the onions and garlic in butter. Add the chicken and brown on both sides. Add the can of tomatoes and simmer until everything is all hot and bubbly and delicious.<br /><br />6. Pour the chicken mixture into the casserole dish. Top with the potato mixture. Pop in the preheated oven.<br /><br />7. Cook in 15 minute increments until the top is bubbly and slightly browned around the edges - you basically want to make sure that the chicken is fully cooked and the cheese is all bubbly. Mmmm...warm cheeeese...anyhow, I let mine cook for 30 minutes.<br /><br />8. Carefully remove the casserole from the oven (sidenote: I also don't have any oven mitts, at the moment. I never seem to remember this until it's time to remove something from the oven...sigh...) and let cool for 10-15 minutes.<br /><br />9. Serve. Eat. Burp. Pack up any leftovers for tomorrow. Yum!</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#330033;">This recipe serves a family of 4 for one dinner or, if you live alone on weekdays, like me, a family of 1 for one dinner, as well as 1 container of leftovers for tomorrow's lunch and 2 containers of leftovers to pull out of the freezer when the next cravings hit. Did I mention yum?</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#330033;">Hope you like this recipe as much as I did!</span><br /></div><span style="color:#330033;"><br /></span>Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-29923779891979751012012-08-18T20:07:00.005-07:002012-08-18T20:31:58.951-07:00Can't Hold My Own Hand<div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);">I just read an absolutely lovely story about a couple that has been married for 50 years. Seems like a long time, doesn't it? I've been caught up in the "10 year-ness" recently - hard to believe that my dear husband and I will have known each other for 10 years this November, and married for 7 in December. Even though we drive each other nuts sometimes, we both know that we balance each other out and bring out the best in each other. You know, when we want to. We're also getting to the point, though, where we're both realizing that living apart for work this year is a lot harder than the last two times we did it. Of course, this is also the longest stretch. It's not so much making time to talk or text or Skype, although those things can be difficult, especially during the school year. The things we miss are really the little things. I love driving around aimlessly at night with my husband behind the wheel, talking about everything and nothing and my feet up on the dashboard and the windows down and just being, really being, just us. No distractions. We are a high consumption couple when it comes to fossil fuels, I'm afraid. We're 13 months in to a 24 month committment. How this journey will progress, I have no idea, but I'm hoping that I have my partner back with me again soon. Who knows, maybe an opportunity will pop up for us before next summer. I just have to keep reminding myself - God's will, not mine.</span></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"></span> </div><div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"></span> </div><div align="justify"> <img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 267px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5778221205239805282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeKV-zTKx6TF8V3NCAQqFYS3NG4SjMIBzHMVBxUixYfqmt9aNo2x0vDiUqpsm4XoemV974QPNgqMNgnJgN9yZaIblZudsch4abemMQLwIHWf6v8NJEkjkz5Nl73wmRW6PchBMNMI-Kg6qd/s400/tumblr_m8swtaw8ii1ruhejh.jpg" /></div><br />Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-31310494324486251572012-08-04T20:33:00.011-07:002012-08-05T12:29:13.844-07:00Dress Blue Thompson - Check!<div align="justify"><span style="color:#330033;">Well, aren't we out of sorts this evening. Monkey enjoyed a record two hours of playtime on the Nick Jr. website, which was then followed by a massive, emotional, tear-stained expulsion of emotion. Why is life so hard all the time...I'm not good at anything...I want to play compuuuuuteeeeer...and so on and so forth. Daddy headed back to Tacoma yesterday and Monkey spent the night at his grandma's last nigh</span><span style="color:#330033;">t, so this is our first evening at home without Daddy again. I can't say that I don't miss him, as well. Hopefully, I'm coping outwardly a little more gracefully, though. Maybe.</span><br /></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#330033;"><br />In other news, I'm happy to report that I have completed the new Monkey kilt. It does need to be dry-cleaned & pressed before it is ready to go, but I'm feeling </span><span style="color:#330033;">pretty good, considering Monkey won't need it until September 8. Here it is, in my totally classy style of staging:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSt9kprZUF9dKO8ITCDN4rWvtGmzXJO_SJzG4SswUtL0UUnP1EhHfGkDOj6yHvbVCoc4501gNS0rW1AJ6dbeZS_JDmD6hQQaDvbs9UUY2mjzhDCHfMk96hTlWdDnQE-pC3gYugRlcRFs9d/s1600/IMG-20120730-00628.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSt9kprZUF9dKO8ITCDN4rWvtGmzXJO_SJzG4SswUtL0UUnP1EhHfGkDOj6yHvbVCoc4501gNS0rW1AJ6dbeZS_JDmD6hQQaDvbs9UUY2mjzhDCHfMk96hTlWdDnQE-pC3gYugRlcRFs9d/s400/IMG-20120730-00628.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5773265194875154930" border="0" /></a><br />Not very impressive just laying there, is it? I also managed to wrassle Monkey into it for a few test shots. It doesn't look quite right in these shots, of course, since the pleats are basted in preparation for being dry cleaned & pressed.<br /><br /><span style="color:#330033;"><span style="color:#330033;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDq4lWkkGYS44C1H1b8MJYx6Qao-CkFO21f7B9M0fUF43_h9xCxxZOdgDvZviJpioDk6byDmiY-XK5CjuAyZFgeAWnRhW2Cjnm7y6ZnRu8EMeO0a81U0qY1JkrfPIvZzHV-Z5nm9vvydej/s1600/IMG-20120730-00627.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDq4lWkkGYS44C1H1b8MJYx6Qao-CkFO21f7B9M0fUF43_h9xCxxZOdgDvZviJpioDk6byDmiY-XK5CjuAyZFgeAWnRhW2Cjnm7y6ZnRu8EMeO0a81U0qY1JkrfPIvZzHV-Z5nm9vvydej/s400/IMG-20120730-00627.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5773265469179504050" border="0" /></a><br />As you can see, we're still living among some boxes in the new apartment. Nice, yes?<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDq4lWkkGYS44C1H1b8MJYx6Qao-CkFO21f7B9M0fUF43_h9xCxxZOdgDvZviJpioDk6byDmiY-XK5CjuAyZFgeAWnRhW2Cjnm7y6ZnRu8EMeO0a81U0qY1JkrfPIvZzHV-Z5nm9vvydej/s1600/IMG-20120730-00627.jpg"><span style="color:#330033;"></span></a><span style="color:#330033;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicO1lZrR1plqHYgQovu2Ymdzkf75uovIwiAIYwnZF1ilWMfTFCB70TcGdcV6Q3KF8x97zJfmyeeEWv4npSYM_DrE70iUNM-FdI5zDXFn_Uc14Jcze7McsnGzCh0EfokFLE7TA_hLQwHMBo/s1600/IMG-20120730-00626.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicO1lZrR1plqHYgQovu2Ymdzkf75uovIwiAIYwnZF1ilWMfTFCB70TcGdcV6Q3KF8x97zJfmyeeEWv4npSYM_DrE70iUNM-FdI5zDXFn_Uc14Jcze7McsnGzCh0EfokFLE7TA_hLQwHMBo/s400/IMG-20120730-00626.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5773265649225645794" border="0" /></a></span><br /></span></span>Note that the shirt & vest he is wearing are waaay too small, like absolutely skin-tight. Like a tiny Scottish stripper, really. So inappropriate! Good thing I tried them on him and good thing I have a month left to shop for replacement costume pieces!<br /><br />Finally, I'm going to toot my own horn and say it's noon on Sunday and I have finished my meal plan for the week and am ready to go grocery shopping and get ingredients sorted for feeding me & Monkey this week. Maybe I will even go crazy and get a few more boxes unpacked - woohoo! Yeah, probably not, especially considering how hot it is in Portland today. Add air conditioning to the list of things I really miss about Texas :-/<br /><br /></span></div>Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-28125798600541119102012-07-29T15:08:00.007-07:002012-07-29T16:01:25.495-07:00It's So Much Better With Three<div align="justify"><span style="color:#003300;">My husband and I had a plan on Saturday: take Monkey Boy to dance class, after which we would proceed to keep him busy and (hopefully) amused for as much a</span><span style="color:#003300;">s the afternoon as possible. On Friday evening, my husband announced that Monkey g</span><span style="color:#003300;">ot to pick what we were going to do Saturday afternoon and asked for his preference. Monkey decided he would give us options (such a sweet boy!) and listed McDonald's, Redbox, and Old Chicago Pizza as his top 3 choices of things to do on Saturday. Two eateries and a movie - yes, perhaps we </span><span style="color:#003300;">nee</span><span style="color:#003300;">d to keep working on expanding Monkey's horizons. McDonald's is a NO from me 90% of the time, Redbox he & I have done a couple times this summer (plus one important part of the plan was to keep Monkey out of the house!), so Old Chicago Pizza won by default. Very scientific, no?<br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#003300;"><br /></span><div align="center"><div align="justify"><span style="color:#003300;">First up was dance class, though. While Miss Hilary put Monkey through his p</span><span style="color:#003300;">aces (I'm happy to report he has entirely remembered his whole Sword and is hard at working le</span><span style="color:#003300;">a</span><span style="color:#003300;">rning the first step of the Fling!), my husband and I headed for the nearby Edelwiss Sausage & Delicatessen, or "the German shop", as my mother referred to it when we were growing up, which has been a Portland landmark nearly as long as I've been alive (they opened their doors</span><span style="color:#003300;"> in 1982, when I was barely a year old).<br /><br /></span><div align="center"><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"><i><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"><a href="http://www.edelweissdeli.com/Images/Home1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 348px; height: 242px;" src="http://www.edelweissdeli.com/Images/Home1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span></span></i></span></span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"><i><a href="http://www.edelweissdeli.com/">photo credit</a></i></span><br /></span></div><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"><i><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"><br /></span></span></i></span></span>Though he's heard about it for years and enjoyed their sausages on multiple occasions at my dad's house, this was my husband's first visit to the hallowed aisles of Bavarian yumminess. We picked up a few fresh pastries to take home, a process that involved m</span><span style="color:#003300;">y husband asking many questions and ooh-ing and aah-ing over the heavily accen</span><span style="color:#003300;">ted answers from the dear German woman assisting us. I was not at all surprised that, by the end, she was cooing over him like he was her own darling son! Once the pastries were packed up, I led him over to the lunch counter, where I ordered a turkey & havarti sandwich and my husband got a bratwur</span><span style="color:#003300;">st on</span><span style="color:#003300;"> a fresh roll - yum! Did I mention that, technically, this was our breakfast? Sometimes it's good to get all continental on a Saturday morning, I think. I r</span><span style="color:#003300;">emembered t</span><span style="color:#003300;">o ask for no butter on m</span><span style="color:#003300;">y sandwich and my husband did the same with his brat's roll. The woman seemed startled by the request, but politely complied. If my dad needs only one big sign that his daughters have acclimatized to American culture, I think that would be it - no butter on m</span><span style="color:#003300;">y turkey sandwich, thankyouverymuch!<br /><br />After picking up a slightly stinky Monkey Boy (Highland really makes you sweat) we headed over to the Scottish Country Shop, where a fellow dance boy-mom had told </span><span style="color:#003300;">me she</span><span style="color:#003300;">'d taken her son to try on various sizes of Balmoral hats. Can I just say, after 20+ years of being first a Highland dancer, then a Highland teacher, and now also a Highland mother, I literally have no idea where to start with outfitting a 7-year-old boy for competition? The male dress code is sooo much harder to figure out! Case in point: I assumed that the clerk at the Scottish Country Shop would know exactly what we needed when we arrived, Monkey in tow, and ex</span><span style="color:#003300;">plained h</span><span style="color:#003300;">e was a competitive Highland dancer who had just aged out of Primary and was now a Beginner - wrong! Good thing I had taken a moment to look up the nam</span><span style="color:#003300;">e of the hat style (Balmoral) before we left the house that morning, or we would have b</span><span style="color:#003300;">een completely out of luck. As it was, she left us on our own to figure out sizing, color, etc. My husband and I managed to find a </span><span style="color:#003300;">hat that was just barely too big (several ladies in the know have advised me to purchase a hat with a finger's-space between the brim</span><span style="color:#003300;"> & Monkey's head, then take a stitch in the back so it will fit now, but also fit longer as he grows - brilliant!) but got stuck when it came to checked or plain. See?<br /><br /></span></div></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"><i><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"><a href="http://0.tqn.com/d/accessories/1/G/n/A/-/-/balmoral-hat.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://0.tqn.com/d/accessories/1/G/n/A/-/-/balmoral-hat.jpg" alt="" border="0" height="282" width="249" /></a></span></span></i></span></span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#003300;"><i><a href="http://accessories.about.com/od/hatglossary/g/balmoral.htm">photo credit</a></i><br /></span></div><span style="color:#003300;"><br /></span><div align="center"><span style="color:#003300;"><i><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"><a href="http://ofroyallineage.com/store/media/balmor01.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://ofroyallineage.com/store/media/balmor01.jpg" alt="" border="0" height="252" width="252" /></a></span></span></i></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#003300;"><i><a href="http://ofroyallineage.com/store/page12.html">photo credit</a></i><br /></span></div><span style="color:#003300;"><br /></span><div align="justify"><span style="color:#003300;">...and assuming we can figure that out, then there will be the matter of the crest. What crest, exactly, is appropriate to display on the hat of a small boy who is Swiss/English/Irish/Welsh on his mother's side and African/Creole/Native American on his father's side, for the purposes of competing in Scottish Highland dancing? Does the United Nations have a crest, per</span><span style="color:#003300;">chance?<br /><br />For the time being, as he has at least a few years as a Pre-Premier dancer in his future, we've given him the choice of wearing a hat or not and, while Monkey enjoyed trying on the Balmorals and prancing in front of the mirrors, he has decided to go hatless for now. Phew!<br /><br /></span><span style="color:#003300;">Finally, it was time for the main event (in Monkey's mind, anyway) of the afternoon: Old Chicago Pizza on Stark Street, a mere stone's throw away from Mall 205 and my teeny little apartment, as well. Apparently, Monkey had heard about this place from one of the other boy</span><span style="color:#003300;">s in his theater camp last week and was eager to try it. My husband and I were pleasantly surprised to learn, as we were seated, that Happy Hour was mere moments away. At 3 pm on a Saturday afternoon, the bar looked like it was buzzing, but the restaurant itself was nearly empty, except for several friendly servers, a few other patrons, and several television screens show</span><span style="color:#003300;">ing live Olympics coverage. It was awesome.<br /><br /><span style="color:#003300;"><i><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyFyokEGYxzwhjiUggYpimj7O6Ik7USTY4Boad9b4T5EwJsyp2NroyMxwxrmh0WB_f__lxNuFNgn9iXT_BiVDgYB5f5LRzFPGJg2_2rAn1EhWs3niKe3MPMFM0gGAAdhQMQHFEm1SVaE0w/s1600/IMG-20120728-00614.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyFyokEGYxzwhjiUggYpimj7O6Ik7USTY4Boad9b4T5EwJsyp2NroyMxwxrmh0WB_f__lxNuFNgn9iXT_BiVDgYB5f5LRzFPGJg2_2rAn1EhWs3niKe3MPMFM0gGAAdhQMQHFEm1SVaE0w/s400/IMG-20120728-00614.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5770728124088155746" border="0" /></a><br /></span></span></i><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;">My husband thought it was strange I took a picture of the Happy Hour menu, but I figured it would be good to keep on file for those evenings Monkey Boy & I really need to get out of the house. For less than $20 before tip yesterday, we were able to get a massive plate of nachos & a lemonade for my husband, a personal pizza & a lemonade for Monkey, and a frozen strawberry margarita & artichoke dip for me. Granted, the margarita tasted virgin (which is fine at 3 pm, honestly), but the artichoke dip was hot and delicious and came not only with toasted bread, but also with crudites for my dipping pleasure. Who knew carrot sticks and articho</span></span></span></span><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;">ke dip tasted so good together?!?<br /><br />The day came to a perfect end when, after running errands that evening, we came to a halt at a stoplight behind this car:<br /><br /><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"><i><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"><i><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxw1Y_42uvhcMDhM4yb2uUA2UX7dODQGwHej5qQVi6BemJaQm6Byzzvu1ZRMuTF5EZBhtD_g6bUY3fq-ekfT-Vwx6d6B2bfJKf9-0QgN-5-TkgvK7IxDftWHNE15Z3Q0NueFJcufzM5KQ9/s1600/IMG-20120728-00616.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxw1Y_42uvhcMDhM4yb2uUA2UX7dODQGwHej5qQVi6BemJaQm6Byzzvu1ZRMuTF5EZBhtD_g6bUY3fq-ekfT-Vwx6d6B2bfJKf9-0QgN-5-TkgvK7IxDftWHNE15Z3Q0NueFJcufzM5KQ9/s400/IMG-20120728-00616.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5770729301657518306" border="0" /></a></span></span></i></span></span></span></i></span></span><br />The "BAGPIPES: putting the fun back in funeral" bumpersticker was perfectly accented by the ubiquitous "Keep Portland Weird!" down below, don't you think? It certainly was a nice place to spend a relaxed Saturday with my boys.<br /><br /></span></span><i><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"></span></span></i></span></span></div><span style="color:#003300;"><span style="color:#003300;"></span></span></div>Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-24378775237575109942012-07-25T20:22:00.003-07:002012-07-25T20:29:09.194-07:00Perhaps the Beef will Heal Me<div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">I've managed to make something fairly tasty in my slow cooker today, despite feeling half-asleep, disoriented, and generally just plain still sick today. My electric wife happily accepted a small beef roast (about 1 lb), a large can of cream of chicken soup, a packet of onion soup mix, and liberal amounts of frozen spinach and onions. Cooked for about 7 hours on low, then let it simmer on "keep warm" while I took Monkey to his Highland class this evening, et voila! Tasty, tender beef, the delicious scent of which drifted out the door to meet us when we returned home. Monkey is refusing to eat it, so I'm currently boiling water for macaroni and cheese, as well. Sick mommy is permissive mommy, I've learned over the years. I just don't have the energy to argue the merits of protein over carbs. Sigh. Oh well, I figure my beef will be even more delicious with a side of Spongebob mac & cheese, no?</span></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div>Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-77113326695491067062012-07-24T00:14:00.006-07:002012-07-24T00:31:18.265-07:00Raise Your Hand If You Can't Sleep<div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);">After a good...what has it been, 6 weeks? Seven? I have finally succumbed to another nasty respiratory infection. Ugh. Or, as my husband said, "When exactly are you going to get your septum un-deviated?" Okay, yes, my doctor did recommend it a couple years ago. So sue me, I've been busy doing things like moving across the country, working full time, and commuting 200 miles every other week to see my family. Yes, I'm bitter. And cranky. And craving sugar and lots of hugs, which seems to be how my body tries to keep me sick and spread the germs to everyone around me, as well. Well, that and incorporating the dreaded chesty asthma cough that only seems to happen when I lay down and try to sleep. Aargh. </span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"></span> </div><div> </div><div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);">What do you do when you can't sleep? I texted with my husband tonight until he fell asleep. Or maybe lost interest. Hard to tell when you live apart, so I'm just going to assume it's the first reason. I worked on the kiltie I'm trying to put together for Monkey Boy. By worked on, I mean pressed the pleats (which have been pressed and tacked, but not yet cut) and cut the material for the lining. Monkey chose bright red broadcloth for the lining. Raise your hand if you're not surprised. Anyhow, I made sure not to actually sew anything this evening. I realized a couple months ago, during a spell of insomnia, that can't-sleep-sewing rarely leads to anything good...like spending an hour the next day ripping out stitches, for example. Sigh. </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"></span> </div><div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"></span> </div><div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);">The red lining looks pretty awesome with the Dress Blue Thompson tartan, though, don't you think?</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"></span> </div><div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"></span> </div><div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"></span><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5768633900296597650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlwkhnpJ10QqRpRSfvTWrcQP2YwRKN-7Gs7JKW00ECNUF1kXyHX5NUz6KP4taZ9Ul9NL4sL_-02OgHePZLtjyWzcprSAamEbB2yCcZHraJ36CuWZopRYwSJMbY3w1qwPYkcVeYG-L3vpzz/s400/Portland-20120723-00580.jpg" /> </div><div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);">...too bad the only people who will see it will most likely be me & Monkey as he's getting dressed to compete, huh? Oh well. See how that picture is sitting sideways up there? Totally tried to turn it. Gave up. Tired. Ha! If this kiltie turns out even halfway decent, I will be very pleased. It's actually an upcycle project - the wool came from a long, pleated skirt donated to a family friend of one of our dancers in Dallas. </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"></span> </div><div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"></span> </div><div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);">I'm also watching trashy television on YouTube. Thank goodness Comcast got me connected before I came down with this respiratory nastiness! Trashy choices of the evening include Real Housewives (any city, not picky), Little Miss Perfect, and Dance Moms. Oh yeah, I am digging my drama tonight :-)</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"></span> </div><div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"></span> </div><div align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);">So how about you? What do you do when you can't sleep?</span></div><div align="justify"> </div>Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-25066418502564193502012-07-22T09:06:00.012-07:002012-07-22T09:30:00.686-07:00Recipe Run - Hoisin Chicken & Broccoli<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">I'm getting back into the swing of things with meal planning and freeze-ahead cooking and figured it would be nice to try out some new recipes - giving 'em a trial run, so to speak. </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);" class="st">So Friday night, I made Hoisin Chicken & Broccoli Stir-Fry for </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);" class="st">Mon</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);" class="st">key Boy, one of my favorite gal-friends, and myself. </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">I'm also trying out www.foodonthetable.com, which touts "</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);" class="st">Easy weekly recipe and grocery lists based on sales at your store. Start meal planning today using easy, kid friendly, recipes and live stress free." Since I've only used it for</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"> a week, it's too soon for a review of the site, but I will say I think we have potential working together. I especially like how the site makes a shopping list for you, based on sales at your local grocery stores and your chosen recipes for the week. Here is the Hoisin Chicken & Broccoli recipe that foodonthetable printed out for me:</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);" class="st"><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOGZ74HG0Inv6pAiv13odK55q6YwKy3vly0XrMOY57YPigJFNBCh0BiIs6LrQFMjsRZ_lnfjHWoVdGHJMhynfUC2ksDTtjboM4CxwpAsF59Sn8HhpaDr3s2xassZOL1LthKSAvoXq7tBhG/s1600/Portland-20120722-00577.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOGZ74HG0Inv6pAiv13odK55q6YwKy3vly0XrMOY57YPigJFNBCh0BiIs6LrQFMjsRZ_lnfjHWoVdGHJMhynfUC2ksDTtjboM4CxwpAsF59Sn8HhpaDr3s2xassZOL1LthKSAvoXq7tBhG/s400/Portland-20120722-00577.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5768030148010691010" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);" class="st"><br />I did make a few changes (surprise, right?). I used chicken stock instead of broth, as that's what I had on hand. My local Safeway didn't have hoisin sauce, so instead I picked out Kikkoman Teriyaki Baste & Glaze with Honey & Pineapple. Sounds good, doesn't it? I used broccoli florets, but will confess we used frozen, 'cause that's how we roll in this teeny apartment. I also added water chestnuts because I *love* them! Never bad to have a little extra crunch, too, I think. I cooked it all up as directed and served it over freshly cooked jasmine rice. Yum!</span><br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXw-7Utb1I6J-Ox_W-xOpvoXWKpRHYcT3zlZq88Oo-Djnb8Lc1OdtkFlF3JPrVcm5iSLCzuGZIf-dMVEGbJG2PlADgxclxTaA0SlX0mi8V6A4aAEcUVaQ7nJYK20UKfFeNXPREezdrni1O/s1600/hoisin+chicken.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 293px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXw-7Utb1I6J-Ox_W-xOpvoXWKpRHYcT3zlZq88Oo-Djnb8Lc1OdtkFlF3JPrVcm5iSLCzuGZIf-dMVEGbJG2PlADgxclxTaA0SlX0mi8V6A4aAEcUVaQ7nJYK20UKfFeNXPREezdrni1O/s400/hoisin+chicken.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5768031712358547282" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);" class="st">See? Even the leftovers look yummy! In fact, I may go eat some now for breakfast. 9ish am isn't too early for dinner, right? ;-)</span><br /></div>Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-83319694839197814112012-07-20T11:09:00.005-07:002012-07-20T12:07:55.363-07:00Let's Get This Desk Together!<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);">Yes, finally! We are back online at home again! It feels like years since I've been able to just sit down at my own beloved computer and visit with you all, even though I know it's only been 6 weeks. Much has happened since last we've seen each other, but I don't want to bore you with details of the past. Let me just say that I had a fantastic time in Dallas, I'm loving having my son down in Portland with me, and overall things are going well. My teeny-tiny apartment is feeling lovely, even though I am still sadly living out of boxes & climbing over things due to not fully having moved in yet. It's a process, though, right?</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"><br />This is definitely the quintessential Portland apartment, I think. The closets vary in size from teeny and almost hidden to walk-in with writing on the walls and shelves that curve around heating pipes. The back wall of the bedroom closet has</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"> visible siding underneath the plaster, as the bedroom itself is an addition to the most original part of the house (built circa 1920). For the same reason, there is a one-of-a-kind step from the living room into the bedroom, as well as a step down into the shower, which boasts a curved, tiled floor and a wonderfully high ceiling. All the doorways are different sizes, slightly different heights, and not necessarily plumb with the ceiling. To me, it's like living in a dollhouse - I love it!<br /><br />There are definitely challenges to living in such a teeny, oddly-shaped home, however. Today's challenge is going to be figuring out how the heck I'm going t</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);">o organize and make the most of the fantastic built-in open shelving/desk that is going to become my little office space. Things right now are pretty much just shoved in wherever they fit, which is definitely not the way to make a functional office! Or any other space, actually.<br /><br />So here's where we are now:<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIaRtv7J9FhUXLYrIlBGnNXDxQY3cJXFJZ5G16H4rmZhtIXkKSu4V5JHLOx33dc_88a86XqUniEWDhq4vFobOGnq9wdB7WoQze_LoGmAARRJeAR7ewhNYf_AxeOyqYAlX6mDDADoTLPTFx/s1600/desk.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 352px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIaRtv7J9FhUXLYrIlBGnNXDxQY3cJXFJZ5G16H4rmZhtIXkKSu4V5JHLOx33dc_88a86XqUniEWDhq4vFobOGnq9wdB7WoQze_LoGmAARRJeAR7ewhNYf_AxeOyqYAlX6mDDADoTLPTFx/s200/desk.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5767330028894392274" border="0" /></a></span>I've had a little lunch, I've turned on some Housewives on the net (LOVE being back online!) and am going to start at the bottom, going through the contents of both file cabinets (4 drawers in all) and *hopefully* figuring out how to weed enough things out that one of the file cabinets can go out in Freecycle this week. Keep your fingers crossed for me!<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"></span></div>Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-65122205936250087592012-06-06T08:14:00.002-07:002012-06-06T08:22:02.355-07:00Mine<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102); ">I had a moment of pure, unadulterated joy as I left my office yesterday evening. A bout of early morning wakefulness (so unexpected and irritating, at the time) led to me arriving in my office at 6:15 - a wee bit earlier than I generally arrive, I'll admit. Amazingly, I had no trouble staying awake all morning and was actually quite productive. On my lunch break, I discovered a very interesting book in the communal bookshelf in the coffee shop upstairs and spent close to the entire hour lost in a gripping storyline. So, overall, not a bad day, but at 5:05, when I walked out those big double doors and breathed in the fresh Portland air, I was sooo happy. Why?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span >In my purse, I had a shopping list and my debit card. Waiting for me, after a luxurious stroll through Safeway? A kitchen. Large? No. Tricked out? Not really. Mine? All mine? Yes.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span >Mine.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span >All mine.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span >:-)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span >They weren't fancy recipes, the 3 that I chose to make last night, just a few of the freezer recipes I used to make so often for our little family in Texas. Normally double batches (although when divvied up for feed just me, they ended up being quadruple batches), made to feed us after busy days at work and school. But last night, it was more than that. It was chopping and stirring and seasoning and simmering and knowing that the combination of a prescribed set of ingredients, prepared and combined in a prescribed method, will almost always result in the same resulting dish. It was feeling the simple joy of doing something I used to take for granted and haven't done in so long.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span >It was home.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span >It was love.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span >It was, for the first time in many months, me feeling like myself, despite my location, my job, or being away from my boys.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span >Mine.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span >All mine.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span >:-)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span ><br /></span></div>Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-18630908883741756962012-05-28T21:39:00.004-07:002012-05-28T21:53:48.152-07:00Operation Closet Begins!<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"><a href="http://jackmblogs.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/pohlig_builders_clean_closet_art_career_wardrobe.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 432px; height: 269px;" src="http://jackmblogs.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/pohlig_builders_clean_closet_art_career_wardrobe.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></span>Okay, I gotta say: I'm pretty darn proud of my moving efforts today. Well, this past weekend, too. I headed out to our little storage space all by myself and dug out the kitchen boxes, sorted out the necessary from the extra, and loaded </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);">up my car with the former all by myself. I had forgotten my iPod in Portland, too, so it was a very quiet endeavor. Then, even though I spent an extra night in Tacoma, I managed to wake up on time and leave bright and early this morning to head back to Portland. Traffic was decent and I made it to the apartment a full hour before I needed to be at work - meaning I had time to unpack the entire car full o</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);">f boxes, yes! Then work was going so well this afternoon that I put in an extra 2 hours, arriving at home just in time for dinner a la Dad (there are crazy-awesome benefits</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"> to having a former chef as a father!) and then putting in another hour to moving, going through a large chunk of my closet and loading up a duffel bag and a garment bag with "keeps" - did I mention that I then put those in my car so that they're ready to be unloaded when I swing by the apartment tomorrow during my lunch break to work on painting the dressers? And yes, now I am watching Real Housewives on YouTube and blogging and browsing Pinterest but, hey, I have to settle down for bed somehow, right? Keeping fingers crossed tomorrow will be another successful step toward the end of the move-across-town-that-never-ends!</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"><br /></span></div><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"></span></div>Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-14792915428745347772012-05-16T19:11:00.003-07:002012-05-16T19:18:20.315-07:00Measure Me in Moves<div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6c61xoS0vCDTOK3InV2lD4iHHPveKPBYChc5DjDPeu3ZBHIUWJZ0HWQU_oB12mu4rkP97J_GYiopeH_H-XDSe90uIqFb1edFWj4RaMZNmnvgsiWr-UM-EqFM6Q2eVWonzuT0orFzTbUrz/s1600/moving_boxes.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 298px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6c61xoS0vCDTOK3InV2lD4iHHPveKPBYChc5DjDPeu3ZBHIUWJZ0HWQU_oB12mu4rkP97J_GYiopeH_H-XDSe90uIqFb1edFWj4RaMZNmnvgsiWr-UM-EqFM6Q2eVWonzuT0orFzTbUrz/s400/moving_boxes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5743319929999947554" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">When semi-strangers find out how much we have moved over the course of our adult lives, the first question is generally, "Is your husband military?" Nope. Even once I explain that my chosen field of work is fairly specialized and not offered at many universities, there is still that look of consternation that can't easily be explained away, other than to shrug, laugh, and close the topic with something along the lines of, "Yeah, we both come from pretty nomadic families and seem to have inherited the wandering spirit."</span><br style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"> It's true, actually. My husband's parents were born in rural Louisiana and lived, by way of my father-in-law's military career, in many different homes (including a stint in Germany) before settling in the Tacoma area when he retired while posted at Fort Lewis (now Joint Base Lewis-McCord). Pretty far to travel when you both grew up as poor black kids in the country pre-Civil Rights era. A couple generations befo</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">re them, my husband'</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">s ancestors were slaves. We haven't been able to trace his lineage past his grandparents as far as given names go, and documentation is scarce. Even my father-in-law didn't have a birth certificate; we think he was about 70 when he died but, since he picked his own birthday, that may be off by a few years.</span><br style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"> My dad is from Zurich, Switzerland. His parents both came from large, farming families, but moved to the city to find work as young adults. Even now, 30 years after leaving home, my friends describe my dad as sounding "like</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"> he just fell off the</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"> boat from Switzerland!" So funny when they ooh & aah over his accent except, you know - Switzerland is a land-locked country. After completing trade school, my dad moved to Toronto for a job, where he met my mom. She grew up in Saskatoon, but her father was an English immigrant and her mother a first-generation Canadian who was raised in a boxcar. We've been able to trace back several generations, enough to know that my grandfather's father died in World War I, there is a strong streak of Irish on my grandmother's side, and I am without question the tallest woman ever in my family at 5'9" - mos</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">t of my female ance</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">stors hovered around the five foot mark.</span><br style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"> So perhaps wandering & moving is in my blood, but it's still a pain in the ass. Every time we move, I swear we'll never do it again. Even now, as I pack boxes, yet again, I know that this is merely a resting point, not a final destination. You know, unless all three of us want to squeeze into a teeny one bedroom apartment at some point in our lives. It's part of my personal history, I suppose: college dorm shared room to co</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">llege dorm private ro</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">om to junior year off campus house to senior year off campus house, all in Washington; third story apartment, basement apartment across from Mormon missionaries, townhouse, rent house, all in Virginia; crappy apartment, third story apartment, run-down apartment, nice apartment, all in Texas; my parents' guest room, my new teeny apartment (with my boys at my mother-in-law's), and then...? 14 moves in 13 years - ugh! And yet, the memories created in each of those homes? Irreplaceable, indescribable, beautiful. So I'll keep packing. </span><br /><br /></div>Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-55847309214501255192012-05-13T15:18:00.006-07:002012-05-13T15:43:19.837-07:00In Transition, Yet Again<div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://media-cache0.pinterest.com/upload/139259813447100735_kXq7igH7_b.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 191px; height: 298px;" src="http://media-cache0.pinterest.com/upload/139259813447100735_kXq7igH7_b.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);">After what seems like many more months of waiting for the apartment to be ready for me to move into, enough construction has been completed that we were able to move my couch and other big pieces of furniture in today, before the doorway between the office and the apartment is walled up. Now don't get overly impressed when I say big furniture - that consisted of a couple dressers, my bedside tables, and a rolling-deskie-thing I purchased at a garage sale last summer for $10 that will be my microwave & other small appliances holder at the new place. I'm still loving the fact that it's on wheels, especially since my new little kitchen is, well, little.<br /><br />The team was assembled by 8:15 this morning - me, my husband, my dad, my intern, and two handsome fellas from her ward. Have I mentioned that having a twenty-something, single intern definitely makes me feel like a thirty-something, old married gal? Ha! Good thing she shares my affinity for cupcakes. The U-Haul truck was loaded up by 9 am and we headed over to the new place. Nothing like driving a big ol' truck over the Marquam Bridge at a mere 50 mph with a stupendous view of downtown Portland in gorgeous sunny weather! Can you believe it's nearly 90 degrees in Stumptown today, after weeks and weeks of yucky clouds and rain? Thank goodness Spring seems finally to have sprung!<br /><br />So after unloading the truck & bidding our new LDS friends farewell (they had to head home and get showered for church at 1:00), my dad & husband headed over to my mom's house to pick up the table she has been putting off taking to Goodwill. Don't let the intended fate of this table fool you - it is *gorgeous*! Seriously, though, if my mom says the words "table pad" to me one more time, I may fly off the handle. This table has lasted nearly twenty years in your house, but suddenly it needs to be protected in my apartment? Picture me rolling my eyes...<br /><br />While they were gone, I got busy hanging curtains and installing the lamp in my unwired bedroom. The ruffly shower curtain and clear liner went on without much issue, but halfway into the kitchen curtains I realized the power drill/screwdriver wasn't fully charged, so they will remain partially-installed for the next few days. I was happy to see that my pink & white fleur curtains looked right at home over my wide bedroom windows, though, even if they're not yet earthquake-proof. My husband oohed and aahed over the office closet curtains and the living room window curtain, this being the first time he'd seen them. I'm so excited to get everything installed and unpacked and to feel settled in my own place - it has been a *long* year of feeling like we're always squatting in someone else's home.<br /><br /></span></div>Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-48028483686667466112012-05-08T18:22:00.003-07:002012-05-08T18:32:28.156-07:00Gotta Motivate Myself<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlyDJihTzD-R23gSAI1bPtkY32Bv7YPs5xT39jj4RnIAnT5ILn0QP7FkErShyrEMuK92SYiFKoTx1QTHZuhcLQjTaEGHtArxopQpu1CT7zKZNfiTNnoq2AZ3l3s-wERkxovkt3_-gBQaOJ/s1600/Tacoma-20120404-01472.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlyDJihTzD-R23gSAI1bPtkY32Bv7YPs5xT39jj4RnIAnT5ILn0QP7FkErShyrEMuK92SYiFKoTx1QTHZuhcLQjTaEGHtArxopQpu1CT7zKZNfiTNnoq2AZ3l3s-wERkxovkt3_-gBQaOJ/s400/Tacoma-20120404-01472.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5740340321429251218" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">I'm going to do some serious packing this evening. Really. I am. After a long, bananas day at work, I pretty much just want to curl up and go to sleep. But I also want to be done with the business of moving (which you may recall was supposed to happen in early April) and, honestly, if the place were ready tomorrow, I definitely would not be ready to move. Sigh. I'll be honest, this year is starting to feel like it's kicking my butt. I'm not feeling awesome about my performance at work, at home, with friends, with family, anywhere. I'm not working out enough, I'm not sleeping enough, I'm not spending enough time focusing on a healthy diet...double sigh. Where do I start? Step one appears to be packing. The sooner I'm packed up here, the sooner I can settle in the new place and start to try and make it feel like home. All the curtains are done, so the sewing machine, fabric stash, and patterns are going to get boxed up tonight, not to be seen again until they are firmly in my new home. Wish me luck!<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"></span></div>Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6797673813025788413.post-66541528985773843262012-05-03T20:34:00.006-07:002012-05-03T20:52:37.307-07:00Loves on Fire<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size: 100%; ">Today is one of those days where I simultaneously have a thousand things and nothing to say. Deep, I know. I'm sitting here in my mother-in-law's family rooming, watching my darling husband and my precious son watch American Idol and thinking about how lucky I felt to attend the 1st grade music performance & open house at my son's school tonight. Last year, I would have taken such an evening with my family for granted. This year, I feel lucky just to be in the same state with them. I feel thankful to touch my sweet baby's chubby cheeks, to hug him tight and kiss him (you know, when he lets me). I feel safe to reach out my arm at night and feel my husband sleeping next to me. I don't even mind when either one of them wakes me up early or lets a smelly fart or inhales 3 bowls of spaghetti, leaving just a bit for me. Did I mention how much I love cooking for them? Love it :-)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size: 100%; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size: 100%; ">So I'm just sitting here, uploading the videos I took at the performance and feeling blessed. Blessed beyond the garbage that flies at us. Those are the distractions, this is the purpose, this is the point, this is my family, this is my love. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size: 100%; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size: 100%; ">These are my loves</span></div><div style="text-align: center;font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size: 100%; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size: 100%; ">I am on fire for them</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify; "><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size: 100%; "><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify; "><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size: 100%; "><img src="http://www.scenicreflections.com/ithumbs/love%20on%20fire%20Wallpaper__yvt2.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 250px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size: 100%; "><a href="http://www.scenicreflections.com/ithumbs/love%20on%20fire%20Wallpaper__yvt2.jpg">Photo Credit</a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0); font-size: 100%; "><br /></span></div>Make It Happen Mamahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02398436528856233701noreply@blogger.com0