tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79397354212328999792024-03-04T22:27:59.443-08:00Dusti's DomainDustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-30781970027721185332019-04-07T13:05:00.001-07:002019-04-07T13:05:20.632-07:00You really can't go back <p dir="ltr">Change is hard.<br>
Growth HURTS sometimes. <br>
It would be so much easier to retreat back into the box that I've been crawling out of. <br>
But, that box was not created for me, by me. <br>
It was constructed by a world that wants FROM me only what it wants, and wants very little FOR me. <br>
I never fit in that stupid box anyway. <br>
So, I will do as my friend suggested and BURRRNNN That Box!<br>
I will use that wood and build a fire to dance around.<br>
And I will stand in the world and make my place.</p>
DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-76792734115418093582018-02-20T19:55:00.001-08:002018-02-20T19:55:45.071-08:00I'm not gonna change anyone's mind but I'm gonna say it anyway Throughout history, those in power have done very little to advance the cause of those over whom they have power. Only a very few were (are) willing to give up slaves. Most men didn't care if women could vote, own property, or wear pants. The American consumer didn't care what the working conditions in the strawberry fields were. The burden has always been on those without power to rise up, claim their power, and fight for their rights as humans.<br />
Generally those in power don't feel the need to act unless the issue affects them personally. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that the kids who survived one of the latest mass shootings have organized their own campaign to work to end mass shootings in the U.S., since many adults in power, who have likely not been personally affected by a mass shooting, are unwilling to part with their toys. That's what military style assault rifles are. Toys. No one is shooting skeet, or putting food on the table with them. They were designed to make killing enemies more efficient. That's it.<br />
And, those who continue to support the right to own assault style firearms, I get it. There's the fear of the slippery slope. Once they tell you you can't own this gun, next they'll tell you you can't own this other gun, and so on and so forth, until we're skeet spearing. I feel the same way when employers are allowed to use junk science to decide what contraception I can or cannot use, instead of allowing me to collaborate with my doctor to find what works best for me. Next thing I know, my husband of 23 years and I will be sleeping in separate states. But, the other side of that is that allowing my insurance to cover certain contraceptives infringes on my employer's religious liberty. They shouldn't have to pay for something they don't belive in!<br />
You're not going to protect yourself from a government that has tanks, guided missiles and drones, with an assault rifle. Mental illness isn't the problem. If you think it is, encourage the NRA to pay politicians to improve mental health services in the U.S.<br />
The problem isn't that nobody disciplines their children. I'm 45 years old. I started babysitting at age 11, and watched kids even after I had my own at 19. I have 4 kids, ages 12-25, and 5 grandkids, ages 5 months to almost 7 years. I've been surrounded by kids my entire life. I honestly haven't noticed any appreciable differences in several generations of kids. Some are great, no matter what kind of parents they have and some are little jerks, no matter what kind of parents they have.<br />
"Guns don't kill people. People kill people." "If someone wants to do it, they'll find a way to do it." Both statements are mostly true. Cars don't kill people, either. Careless or impaired drivers usually do. But we wear seat belts, have airbags and strap our kids in some type of car seat until they go off to college. Driving while under the influence of drugs or alcohol is illegal in all states and many states have laws against using a cell phone while driving. If someone wants to use cocaine, they'll find a way to do it so why not just legalize cocaine?<br />
The U.S. Declaration of Independence states we are endowed by our Creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. Considering that all mass shootings in recent history have been carried out by people holding assault rifles, they could be considered an impediment to LIfe. Does it make sense that some people's Liberty and pursuit of Happiness should supercede the general public's right to Life? DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-34676536718233651482015-04-04T23:31:00.001-07:002015-04-04T23:31:25.622-07:00Easter clothes<p dir="ltr">My 2 younger kids got their clothes together for church tomorrow. Lia wants to look like an Easter egg and chose some peacock green pants a friend picked up in Thailand, a fuzzy, purple vest and a pink t-shirt. The t-shirt has a skull and 2 guitars on it. Ian chose jeans and an Avengers t-shirt. I have the feeling proximity had something to do with his decision. I would love it if they would wear something a little more "churchy" and "Eastery" especially since it's our first Easter at this church. Part of me would really like to send them back into the black holes they call bedrooms and have them come out with Dress Clothes. But, Avengers and Rock n' Roll t-shirts are what my kids wear. Ian is a bit of a gamer geek and Lia is a bit of a punk. Did I mention Lia's hair matches their pants? That's who they are and one of the ways they express themselves at this moment in their lives. Who am I to tell them they must change or at the very least, put up a false front for people we barely know? If my kids have to dress a certain way to be accepted at a church, I don't want anything to do with that church. This hit me as I was putting their clothes into the wash and getting ready to go on a quest for "better" clothes. I felt the need to share this with them and did so immediately. They actually paused their YouTube video to listen to me.</p>
DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-87638937187917930992014-08-16T13:07:00.000-07:002015-04-04T23:34:54.830-07:00Velveeta Fudge<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sounds like the weird name of a band but it's a real thing. We were at a friend's birthday party and I mentioned that I didn't like Velveeta cheese. Actually what I said was, "Velveeta's disgusting" and my husband replied, "unle-essss...it's in fudge", and then he opened the can of worms that is Telling People I Use a Pound of Velveeta to Make Fudge. There it is. Now you know my dirty little secret. No marshmallow fluff, burning stuff in double boilers or accidentally spraying the pan with garlic flavored cooking spray (cough, cough *my aunt* cough, cough) for this girl. This concoction of gooey goodness is almost (ALMOST) fail proof. Since there was some suspicion that I just drew the recipe out of thin air, I feel compelled to share it here. Because I got this big on Slim-Fast and Diet Coke. My mom used to make this every Christmas as part of her bake-a-thon that her friends looked forward to all year.<br /><div>
<b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"> Velveeta fudge</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">1 pound butter or margarine (4 sticks)</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b> 1 pound Velveeta</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b> 1 cup of cocoa<br /> 4 one pound boxes of powdered sugar (or however you want to get it up to 4 lbs of powdered sugar)</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b> 1) grease a 9x13 baking pan</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b> 2) </b></span><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">sift sugar and cocoa into a large container</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b> 3) </b></span><b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">cube butter and cheese and melt slowly in microwave, stirring frequently</b></div>
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<b style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> 4) add melted butter/ cheese mixture to sugar/ cocoa</b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> 5) grease your hands and start mixing</span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> 6) when thoroughly combined, pour mixture into greased pan, pat down evenly and refrigerate. </span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> 7) wait until everyone has eaten some before you tell them it's made with cheese and enjoy the looks on their faces. (make sure they're not allergic to dairy first!)</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> 8) Don't think about calories</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Remember when I said it was ALMOST fail proof? Yeah. Be careful when melting that you don't scorch the butter cheese mixture. Not that I've ever done that. Also, if you use margarine, don't use low fat margarine or </span>Velveeta<span style="font-family: inherit;">. It leaves a weird oily layer on top. Not that I've ever done THAT, either. And really, you're using a pound of each and 4 lbs of sugar. Is saving 2 grams of fat going to make that much difference? Go for a walk and skip dessert tomorrow. <3</span></div>
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DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-54695151431449750362014-05-09T01:43:00.001-07:002014-05-09T09:36:09.514-07:00Do Good<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Lately, I've become almost obsessed with these things called <a href="http://www.generationsoflight.com/" target="_blank">Purity Balls</a>. They're like a debutante ball but instead of announcing that your barely legal daughter is now "on the market", parents are effectively announcing that their daughters are off the market. Fathers and their frequently prepubescent daughters take pledges concerning the girl's virginity. The father pledges to protect it until she's married and she pledges to hang on to it until she's properly wedded off. Doesn't sound terrible in light of some of the nasty consequences of sex- STIs, pregnancy, heart break when you realize he only wanted "one thing", does it? Except it's part of this other movement called <a href="http://www.patheos.com/blogs/lovejoyfeminism/2012/02/what-is-christian-patriarchy-an-introduction.html" target="_blank">Christian Patriarchy</a> . I would have thought that meant that G-d The Father was in charge but it doesn't. They're also, not surprisingly, part of what many refer to as the <a href="http://www.patheos.com/blogs/lovejoyfeminism/the-purity-culture" target="_blank">Purity Culture</a>. I encourage you to follow the links provided. They explain these concepts better and in more depth than I want to right now. I also recommend these posts for further reading. http://biblicalpersonhood.wordpress.com/2012/01/21/whats-wrong-with-purity-balls-one-virgins-perspective/ sums up most of the objections I have to the Balls. I would add that it really seems, on reading the Generations of light website that money seems to be their primary objective. I also have a problem with the way our culture has to make an extravagant party about everything. If you're that obsessed with your daughter's virginity, talk to her about it and quietly lock her in a tower and spend that money feeding poor people. That's what Christians are supposed to do, anyway. And don't get me started on how these girls are absolutely not prepared for reality. And this post discusses another problematic aspect of the movement: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/nolongerquivering/2014/04/why-purity-culture-doesnt-teach-consent/. And I'll just throw this one in for shock value http://www.homecrusadersedu.com/Courtship/DaddysGirl.pdf. But those aren't even what I really want to spend time on any more.<br />
This isn't something I talk about a lot, but I'm a follower of Christ, or a Christian, in normal vernacular. This was a choice I made as an adult and feel like a person's relationship with G-d and Christ is very personal and direct. Each person has a path that G-d wants them to follow and each person is directly accountable to G-d. Not a priest, elder, bishop or, ultimately, a parent. I believe that G-d is a god of love and wants us to be good to one another. I also believe that G-d wants us to have a relationship with them and religion, generally a set of man made rules regarding behavior, quite often, has nothing to do with that. In the course of a bible study several years ago, during study of scripture and prayer, I had an image of G-d as a loving parent who just wants their children to sit in their lap and be with them. Not carry out some political agenda and especially not browbeating total strangers into a confession of belief.<br />
Reading about the purity culture and patriachal movements has influenced my current struggle with organized religion. I currently belong to a denomination that could be considered a fundamentalist, protestant denomination, although, compared to some denominations, considerably less so. In all fairness, I have rarely if ever heard anything so extreme preached in any of the 7 churches in my denomination that I have attended. As I was becoming more and more outraged with what I saw as imprisoning and marginalizing 3/4 of the population, I was becoming more and more disillusioned with "church" and thought I would just separate entirely. Then I thought of the hundreds of really good people I know from the various churches I've attended in my life. I was reminded of the various charitable organizations and NGOs supported by Christian denominations around the world. I was reminded of friends who have gone on short term trips to build schools or help in disaster relief and friends and family members who've gone to stay. Some work under conditions that require secrecy and must keep a bag packed at all times in case they need to be evacuated immediately. When they are mentioned in media published by their denomination, they are only listed by their first initial and the location given is very vague. Other friends have felt so led to help, they have gone on their own, with no formal support of any denomination. One woman was a widowed nurse who went back and forth to Brazil to work with a doctor. She could only stay for a few months at a time and then had to return to the States. She used her own funds and received donations from church members to accomplish this. Yet another friend, also a nurse, and her husband, a teacher, gave up well paying jobs with benefits to move their family to Central America to run a school and do a lot of community development, helping a lot of the people in their town become more financially secure and independent.<br />
I also thought of the "ordinary' people who stayed home but do various things in their communities to help the people there. I had a friend in Mobile, Alabama who was 72 and drove some older ladies to their doctors appointments. The church I attended Millry, Alabama has a group of men who do various construction projects around the community for people who need them, from wheel chair ramps to commercial kitchens. Really. A local woman was making and selling special order cakes from her home to make ends meet while her husband battled an illness. In Alabama, you're required to produce the food in a commercial facility outside of your home. I guess it's a health code thing. Anyway, someone reported her so there went her cake business. But, not really. These guys from the church got together and built her a free standing kitchen that satisfied the Health Department.<br />
I could go on but I want to get to the point sometime in this century. I thought of all these stories and thought of the people who are just nice and brighten your day by just being friendly. I know you don't have to be a Christian and go to church to be nice to people, but that's the group I'm talking about now. I was thinking of all the good things done by good people that I know to make the world a better place and then I was faced with the question, "what am I doing?". Is reading all the internet articles on a subject I find abhorrent and then railing about it really doing anybody any good? I realized that instead of carrying on about something I dislike, I need to be actively trying to promote good. This is something I feel all Christians should focus on rather than vocally fighting those with opposing viewpoints in the public square but I can only control what I do. Where ever I am, in whatever small way I can, I need to love more and provide tangible proof of that love. To quote Emily Dickinson,<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.006000518798828px;">If I can stop one heart from breaking,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.006000518798828px;">I shall not live in vain;</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.006000518798828px;">If I can ease one life the aching,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.006000518798828px;">Or cool one pain,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.006000518798828px;">Or help one fainting robin</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.006000518798828px;">Unto his nest again,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.006000518798828px;">I shall not live in vain. </span></div>
DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-53758302064730176382014-03-10T19:55:00.001-07:002014-03-10T19:58:54.046-07:00My Girls<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Saturday, March 8th was International Women's Day. I was fortunate to spend it with some of the great women in my life. Sunday as well. Since then, I've been doing a lot of thinking about the women in my life. At the moment I'm surrounded by some strong, smart women whom I can really call friends. After having moved almost every year for several years, this is a welcome change.<br />
Not all the women in my life have always had such positive influences in my life but they have all, in some way, inspired me. Those of you who are smart, you inspire me to be smarter. Not smarter than you but to push myself to not act like a cotton headed ninny muggins. Those of you who are beautiful inspire me to explore my definition of beauty, realize that you are so much more than just a beautiful face and that you are probably not judging me because of my appearance so I should not be surprised when I discover you're an astro phsyics geek. That really happened. Shame on me. Those of you who are strong inspire me to, as one of my daughters says, "get a straw and suck it up!". You don't let excuses stop you from doing what needs to be done. And I would like you to know I have considered all of you all of these things at one time or another.<br />
Those of you who have fought or currently fight addictions of any sort, your courage and perseverance inspires me. Those of you who fight chronic pain, illness, depression or other mental illness inspire me to not give up hope. Those of you who are afflicted with any of the above and seem to have given up hope inspire me to remember to show love to others I meet who are also suffering. I hope you take some comfort in knowing that if I can't help you personally, I have tried to offer someone comfort because of you. <br />
Working moms. "Nonworking" moms (kids are work!). Married Moms. Single moms. Moms of many. Moms of one. Moms who never got to bring their babies home from the hospital. Moms who loved and then lost. You inspire me with the way you love your children and I learn from your parenting successes AND failures or with the way you carve out a new normal every day. Women who remain childless by choice inspire me with their knowledge of self and strength to cast off the expectations of society.<br />
Those of you who seem to live a perfect life and do everything right and those of us who make as many mistakes and wrong turns as possible but never give up the fight, you inspire me. Battered women who got away but left pieces of their soul behind and are pushing ahead through life anyway because they fully appreciate their freedom, you inspire me to not take for granted what a fairly easy life I've led. Those of you who remain for whatever reason, you inspire me to support and encourage you and your sisters in the battle. Rape victims who speak out and say, "this happened and it wasn't my fault and it was wrong.", you inspire me with your courage to reject the shame and stigma people try to attach to the victim of such a crime. Keep yelling. Those of you who've suffered an attack and never said a word inspire me to keep talking about it until you are no longer ashamed and afraid to speak out for yourself. I love you and want you to know that nothing you did made it acceptable for someone else to do that to you.<br />
Nujood Ali, the 10 year old girl in Yemen who defied her father and her culture and sued for divorce from her 30 year old husband and won inspires me with her power and resolution. Her father's second wife who gave her cab fare and an address when her mother was too scared to defy her father also inspires me. The women in India in the pink saris (http://www.gulabigang.in/) who defend their neighbors against abusive husbands or family members inspire me to stand up for others who are unable at the time to defend themselves. These women are defying thousands of years of cultural teaching at the risk of their own lives. The women who work for the various NGOs to disseminate health information and educate communities of the importance of allowing their young women to obtain an education and to postpone marriage and child bearing, for the health and safety of the young women as well as the economic benefits to the community inspire me to stop talking about the problem and get involved.<br />
I realize how good I have it and how easy my life is here in the U.S. but it's not enough. It's not enough that I can vote if all women can't. It's not enough that my daughter can serve in the military and, at the age of 20, marry the man of her choosing on her lunch hour. It's not enough that my daughter can have a child out of wedlock and not have to suffer in shame and castigation from our community. It's not enough that my 8 year old can tell me she wants to work at NASA when she grows up instead of having to worry about being married off before puberty. It's not enough that my son isn't being taught to treat women as property but as equals, capable of doing everything he can. It's not enough that my friend's daughter can ride public transportation home from roller derby practice wearing fishnets and booty shorts and not be harassed or assaulted. It's not enough that I can tell my husband, "No" for anything, or that he cooks for our family of 6 while I write, or that I could go back to school after 4 years of marriage and 2 kids. It's not enough that we enjoy and take for granted so many rights and privileges in the west and it won't be until women all over the world receive them and the equality inherent in them. I am inspired to keep speaking up, even if I annoy people and some stop listening. For every few who tune me out, some will continue to listen and sympathize. Some of those will do something. <br />
You are beautiful, smart, strong, funny, sensitive, fallible, a leader, a role model. Even if you don't feel that any or all of those apply to you, they do. I'm always watching to see "how you so it" and everyday, you inspire me. </div>
DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-26227765757631398322014-02-28T21:11:00.000-08:002014-02-28T21:13:44.123-08:00This magic moment<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've been going through a season of discontent lately. Maybe it has something to do with officially being 40something, maybe it's wanderlust. Who knows. I wasn't happy and I was making the people around me unhappy. I see other people living out their dreams, people my age that have done so much more than I have and I'm disappointed in myself with my ordinary, unglamorous, often messy and disorganized life. But yesterday and today I've been feeling what I can only describe as a really positive energy. We went to a home school function with the kids and we were with friends. I was surrounded by positive, stimulating people. Now by "positive" I don't just mean an absence of negativity. I mean people who were really uplifting and dynamic and a I could feel a happy, positive "vibe" when I was there.<br />
We went home and did some routine domestic stuff in the kitchen but we were all in the kitchen together and it felt really good, like for a minute, we were in harmony. Later, I went out with a friend. We had planned to go to a yoga class but decided we'd rather get a cup of coffee and just really talk. Again, I was in the presence of a really positive person. After we went home, I found myself snugged up in bed next to the hubs, with a cat on one end of the bed, the dog on the other, my youngest and several of her stuffies and I was really feeling the bliss.<br />
I had a doctor's appointment this morning and while in the waiting room, I read a parenting article that suggested parents back off and let their kids ruin their own lives in their own way instead of hovering and ruining it for them. Ok. I may have paraphrased that a bit, but they interviewed a bunch of people about their best childhood memories and no one talked about how much time they spent in the car on the way to activities or the times their parents were hovering in the wings for anything. The finding of the study was that the best memories were the little triumphs that people accomplished on their own, not the stuff their parent micro managed.<br />
Today was sunny and the kids were playing outside while the hubs and I were taking care of lunch and a few other domestic things. The kids were actually getting along! Again, I just felt that positive, happy energy and everyone felt in harmony. My grandson fell and scraped his knee and my daughter brought him in to clean it up. He was completely unconcerned about the scrape but my daughter wanted to check on it and clean it a little. I was reminded of the book The Blessing of a Skinned Knee by Dr. Wendy Mogel, which for the record, I have only perused. Then it hit me. These little moments are what my life is. The big things are great and they make for exciting, great memories, but it's the little spontaneous things that can be really magical. Everyone cooperating to make lunch or get the kitchen cleaned up. My older daughter taking her siblings to the park when she takes her son. His first skinned knee, which is a milestone because he learned that he will fall but he can get back up. While I would still love to go on big adventures with my hubby and kids, I want to do it because it would be something fun that we all enjoyed, not because we're supposed to do these things to say we lived an adventurous life. Today, I will enjoy the small things and not bemoan the large things I have not yet accomplish because in doing so, I will lose my small, magical moments.<br />
And I wish you all bliss.</div>
DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-7479392871271094022013-12-03T00:09:00.000-08:002013-12-03T00:21:39.696-08:00I finally figured out what was bugging me about stores being open on Thanksgiving. I wrote a song about it. Wanna hear it? Here it go...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Recently, I posted <a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=310997639040818&set=pb.310996065707642.-2207520000.1386054737.&type=3&theater" target="_blank">this</a> picture on my Facebook page because 1) I agreed with it and 2) it's my page. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d7Br4gD7eSc" target="_blank">I'll do what I want.</a> Despite the fact that I was stating that MY family would not be shopping on Thanksgiving, the responses were a mixture of positive and negative with a few people asserting Thanksgiving is a day for family and a few pointing out that not everyone in the U.S. celebrates Thanksgiving, people need the extra money that working on a holiday brings in, people are looking for a bargain in "this economy" and the economy could use the boost. I conceded that they were all valid points and that people who don't celebrate Thanksgiving should be able to do as much Christmas shopping as they want on Turkey Day.<br />
Wait. What? Here's why it didn't sit well with me, all disgusting Black Friday displays of greed and whatever the heck it is that drives us to chant,<a href="http://m.nydailynews.com/1.334059" target="_blank">"push the doors in!"</a><span id="goog_1398950250"></span><span id="goog_1398950251"></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a> and stampede into a store or fight one another for the last <a href="http://chewthedirt.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/Jingle-All-The-Way-PS.jpg" target="_blank">Turbo Man Action Doll</a> aside. The U.S. is a culturally Christian nation. We may not go to church or worship God any more, but we follow a calendar based on the Christian traditions. Our Founding Fathers may have been Deists or Clock Winders and may have referred to God as Providence, but they came from a Christian background and that's where a lot of their ideas came from. Most of us who were born and raised here in the States are at least culturally Christian. Which means we celebrate Christmas AND Thanksgiving. I hate to Should on anyone, but here it is. I think, if you're going to celebrate a Christian holiday, you should honor it fully. If you celebrate Christmas, you shouldn't go shopping on Thanksgiving. I know some of my readership of 20 will be offended by that statement. I know it's not politically correct. If you fall into that category, remember that my blog is called 'Dusti's Domain" for a reason. The majority of people who don't celebrate Thanksgiving also probably don't celebrate Christmas (although I have read that the holiday is becoming more commonly celebrated in other cultures around the world), so they're probably not in a big hurry to go Christmas shopping. Sure, I guess they can work while we all rush out after a dinner celebrating being Thankful for family and friends and all sorts of intangible gifts from The Universe formerly known as Providence and fight to get the cheapest presents so we can get more, More, MORE!, but I don't think we should.</div>
DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-20347667002917126902013-09-12T11:13:00.000-07:002013-09-12T11:13:01.583-07:00 I've been seeing a lot of posts on Facebook about walking away from the drama and BS in one's life, not doing things that don't bring you happiness or removing negative, difficult people from your life. This is supposed to make your life simpler and stress free. Because life is supposed to be easy, right? I call BS.<br />
First of all, people are generally difficult for a reason. Maybe they had a bad childhood. Maybe they had a child hood that was too easy and they never really learned how to appreciate the people in their lives. Maybe they just received some terrible news. "That person shouldn't be so bitter about their cancer diagnosis. They should appreciate what they do have right here and right now". By the way, you're an ass if you've ever said something like that to someone. OK, maybe you WERE an ass. People can change. I'll give you a pass if you're a reformed ass and have the humility to admit it. You have your reasons for being an ass.<br />
Second, everyone is "difficult" at some point in their lives. Even you. Even me! (I know, you're shocked, right?) I am, personally, very glad my husband, after seeing all the kinds of crazy I can be, hasn't just thrown his hands up and said, "I fold". I'm fairly certain I have, at least once, caused him a little stress. But he sighs, smiles and says,"I'll always love you". Which is probably only half the thought. It's probably more like, "If you don't stop that, I'll make your demise look like an accident". Sometimes you can be a little difficult. No. Not the person to your left. You. And I'm sure you have your reasons. Should we "just walk away" when you're having a rough time?<br />
Third, where do we draw the line on whom to walk away from? What if it's your kid with special needs or who's getting their butt kicked by puberty? Parent with dementia who needs round the clock care? Busy body Know-it-all coworker without whom we couldn't do OUR job? This isn't a call to codependency. If someone is abusive and there is no sign of them getting better and you are able, then yes, go. Or send them packing. This is just a call for compassion and patience.<br />
What about not doing things that don't make you happy? Do you mean like changing diapers? On your kid or your parent/ grandparent? Your job? If you hate your job, should you just walk away? Maybe. But at least wait until you have another one. And maybe if you hate your job, it's because it's not where you should be and you should do some soul searching and find your calling and take steps to get there. But, I digress. In some cultures, not doing something because it doesn't make you happy is unheard of. You do it because that's your role and other people are depending on you. I'm not saying that's the best way, but, ya know, try to find a middle ground between the great emphasis on the individual in U.S. culture and responsibility to the group in other cultures.<br />
Sometimes when you just press through the Idawannas, you get a great return on your investment. I'm the treasurer for the PTA at my younger kids' school. I'm not a numbers person and my training was fairly minimal. Since I'm the money girl, I have to go to most of the meetings even if I'm not on that committee. Of course, I'm on most of the committees because there are only a handful of parent volunteers and we wear a lot of hats. Sometimes, I really hate it. Really, really, really. But, then we put on an event and the kids have a great time and nobody sees what didn't go as planned or what was forgotten because they're just having a good time. They're smiling and laughing and it's because we went to the meetings we didn't want to go to and we did the shopping we didn't want to do and we set up the dance/ seasonal event even though we were tired and we're glad we did.<br />
Life is a lot of difficulty peppered with some occasional great moments. The difficulties make us appreciate the great moments. It's kind of like hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. The uphill part is ROUGH but the view from the top of a mountain is amazing. So, I guess what I want to convey was best said by Kenny Rogers. "You gotta know when to hold 'em and know when to fold 'em." There is a time to walk away from the negative and the oppressive, but there's also a time to suck it up, soldier on, cowboy up, and put on your big girl panties. But without sounding all advice-y. Just wanted to say, "what's up with that?"DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-16254194559482712712013-08-01T22:07:00.000-07:002015-04-04T23:37:26.692-07:00Couch Surfing USA Part 1 As <strike>most</strike> <strike>a lot</strike> some really big undertakings do, it started with a very simple idea. My in-laws had been to visit us about 1000 times since we moved to Portland 3 years ago and I hadn't seen my family since my mom's funeral so it was time for us to go to them. I <strike>carefully calculated </strike> pretty much guesstimated how much we'd need for travel expenses and activities and talked a lot about saving up for our trip. Then I realized that, unlike our previous cross-country trips, I wasn't under a deadline. We could take as much time as we needed. I started thinking about sights we could see along the way. Then I thought about people I could see along the way. Again, it started with one person and branched out from there. A simple 5 day, 2600 mile trip became a 2 week, 2900ish mile expedition. We stayed with several friends, saw a few planned sights and had a few impromptu side trips. It was poorly planned,my budget got cut in half due to some vehicle maintenance issues on our other car, I over packed and very quickly let go of a lot of ideals in the name of survival/ maintaining my sanity and the kids and I ran through a gamut of emotions on a daily basis. And I look forward to having the chance to do it again. I have a lot of ideas of how I want to write about it and just may try them all out. That's the great thing about my blog. It's MY blog! All mine! hahahahahahaha! Can't wait to get started!<br /> I'm calling the series Couch Surfing but that's a bit of a misnomer. Couch surfing, to me implies that one is crashing with strangers. We were graciously welcomed into the homes of friends and family members who took great care of us.DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-53983564458071341922013-07-01T20:01:00.000-07:002013-07-01T20:01:04.527-07:00Summer!!!We're having a bit of a heat wave here in PDX. Fortunately, it's supposed to break in a few days. Which is great because we don't have air conditioning in our 1944 concrete house and, "It's too hot to care about anything" as my hubby put it this afternoon when I apologized for the house being messy. I was really frustrated because I got the front of the house cleaned up but it's been a struggle to maintain it. It finally occurred to to me that "if I couldn't keep it clean while the kids were in school, why the heck did I think I could keep it clean while they're home?" Also, my kids have been surviving on watermelon, popsicles and chicken nuggets because, in addition to the heat, I can't seem to keep any counter space in my tiny, poorly designed kitchen uncluttered so cooking is a huge pain. This is sad because a local organic farm delivers fresh veggies weekly to the hospital my husband works at. There's usually something we recognize or know how to cook, but there are a lot of things I've never cooked and haven't made to effort to figure out what to do with them. Long story short, we have too much crap and I'm tired of dealing with it. It's getting in the way of us having a full life. I'm ready to get rid of the junk and all the negative "stuff" that goes along with it.<br />
Anyway, we're gearing up for a cross country trek in a couple of weeks. Ian, Lia and I are driving to Alabama. Well, I'll be driving and they'll be asking, "are we there yet?" and requesting frequent bathroom stops. The kind that never seem to coincide with, gas or restaurant stops or any locally available bathrooms. My kids have become experts at weeing on the side of the road discreetly(ish). I mean, I tell them no one can see, so that counts, right?<br />
Despite that, I'm really looking forward to the trip. We're taking a less than direct route so we can work in a few visits with some friends along the way and we'll stop and see a few sights as well. We plan on camping some nights provided a campsite isn't as much as a hotel room. I looked up KOA and the price of a tent campsite wasn't listed. If you don't show me the price up front, I assume it's probably more than I want to spend. A lot of national parks also offer camping so we might give that a try. Another thing I'm actually excited about is what we're going to eat on the trip. I'm going to scout out farmers markets and other whole, healthy food sources along the way and my goal is to blog about not only our great experiences on the open road, but eating healthfully along the way. I'm a little concerned that Ian isn't going to like it because he's never really enjoyed vegetables beyond green beans, broccoli and salad stuff but, I also think that since we're in the middle of nowhere and the choices are take it or leave it, he'll take it. I'm not too concerned about Lia. She's <strike>a bit of a garbage disposal</strike> not picky.<br /> In the interim, we're getting vehicles up to snuff (yay, new tires! I mean brand new! I didn't realize treads could be that deep!), arranging play dates and birthday parties, and wading through an endless sea of Lia's clothes to pack for our trip. That's another thing I'm kind of excited about. We're going away for approximately 6 weeks and bringing 4 days worth of clothes, plus a few extra items like a sweater for evenings in the desert and a bathing suit. If we absolutely need anything else once we get there, such as a dressy outfit for church, we can get it there.So, in addition to visiting family and seeing things we've never seen before, I'm hoping that we'll be able to enjoy the experiences and people in our lives and this trip will provide a much needed change in perspective and when we get home, we'll see that we can live without all this extra stuff we're constantly picking up, storing, washing, and just tending to in general. DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-61298034809851361082013-01-02T02:35:00.000-08:002013-01-02T02:35:00.417-08:00Our house, in the middle of our street I don't gripe about housework the way my mom used to. I've really developed my own style. I think she would be proud of me. All kidding aside, my house looks like a federal disaster area. I'm not going to MomShame and upload pictures because I don't want my kids to get teased at school. For a while I would try to clean up if I knew someone was coming over but I've since given up. People come over, my kids have play dates, they make comments about the chaos, whatever. I can't put everything on hold indefinitely.<br /> In reality, it looks like my kids have been home for two weeks and one of them had a baby in the middle of those two weeks. 'Cause that's what really happened. But if you dig a little deeper, (go ahead. Just be careful. I can't guarantee your safety at this time.) you'll see that it is the home of a somewhat overwhelmed person who's been trying to hold it together and be what other people need her to be. This hasn't been working out for me. I'm not really "present" for anyone and I'm about to do some re-evaluating and prioritizing. But more on that another day.<br />
My 15 year old daughter had a baby on the 22nd of December. It's been a rough 9 months. She's always dealt with anxiety and holds herself to very high standards. Teen pregnancy did little to improve upon either of those. Deciding to keep the baby was an angst ridden choice- for all of us. At one point she was hospitalized for almost 2 weeks due to the anxiety. She was already behind in school and after being out for 2 weeks, she just couldn't get caught up. So she dropped out the last quarter. She was now cut off from her friends at school as well as her roller derby team mates. Again, not helpful with the anxiety. Being the polite, perfectionistic kid she is, she would wait until I had wrangled her younger siblings into bed and to sleep before letting me know she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. So, I would stay up until 3 a.m. with her, talking, crying, watching Dr. Who (which I could never follow because she was so far into it, so don't ask me about it. I don't know). Then I would get up around 7 and try to get the younger two kids to school on time. We were usually late so I got "a bit" of flak from their teachers about tardiness, attendance, blah, blah. In all fairness, once they knew what was going on at home, they didn't say anything else. If I didn't have a PTA function going on at the elementary school, I would go home and try to get some sleep. I knew I needed to do a lot around the house but I really felt like my family needed me to be rested and not grouchy.<br />
My two youngest kids have ADHD, heavy on the H. I know somone, somewhere is going to 1) suggest a therapy they read about or 2) try to tell me ADHD isn't real. Save it. I don't care. I know what I live. Every. Stinking. Day. My son was medicated but the meds were making him very whiny and emotional. My youngest daughter was not medicated because I couldn't find anyone to treat her until she was 7. She gets bored and antagonizes her brother until he blows up at her and then she tells on him. Both of them are champion mess makers. Neither one of them is good at getting rid of things or picking up after themselves. Trying to get them to pick up or help out is a struggle. I offer incentives. I impose consequences. I make checklists to help them remember to clean up after themselves and help around the house. I have helped them set up their bedrooms into "zones" to facilitate cleaning. I have made my son a very detailed Room Cleaning Checklist so he can clean his room without me. I still end up doing it myself because I catch myself losing it when they whine, argue, cry and generally spend more time trying to get out of work than the job would have taken in the first place. It's not always like this. In fact, lately they've become much better over all about helping. But not always.<br /> I can hear the advice. My thought is this- we only have so much breath allotted to us in our lifetimes. You can use that breath telling me I'm doing it wrong and this is how I SHOULD be doing it, or you can be telling your loved ones how much you love them. The choice is yours but, remember, my husband and I have big families. I've heard it for the last 15 years. <br /> Add to that the once weekly counseling appointments for my son and 15 year old daughter, her ob appointments, and later counseling for my 7 year old daughter, most of which I tried to schedule while my husband was at work so it wouldn't interrupt his days off. He's an ER nurse who works two to four 12 hour night shifts and alternating weekends. Somewhere in there, I managed to get elected Treasurer of the elementary school PTA. For some reason that I can't remember now, I accepted the nomination. Throw in phone calls at odd hours from my 20 year old daughter who's in the Navy and stationed on the east coast. The most notable phone call being the one in which she called to tell me she had locked her keys in the car. <br /> Then there's the stuff. Oh my freakin' dog, the stuff. I got rid of so much stuff when we moved and I vowed never to accumulate so much stuff again. But my smaller children will have nothing to do with this vow. I don't know how they manage to bring more stuff into my house because I always tell them "NO!" when they ask for stuff, but they do. I'm currently deluding myself with an 8 Weeks to Declutter Your House plan a friend posted on Facebook. One room a week, they say. Thirty minutes to an hour, they say... And I don't want to just get rid of my kids stuff when they aren't looking, for various reasons. I'm afraid they'll <strike>become</strike> stay hoarders because they're afraid someone will throw away their stuff when they aren't looking. I also don't feel like they'll learn some decision making skills and take pride in their accomplishments if they aren't a part of the decluttering process.<br />
I know this sounds like a lot of whining. It is. I know a lot of people have a lot more going on and they handle it just fine. And I have days where nothing bothers me. And I could stay home and organize etc. but I go out to lunch with a friend because, if that friend died tomorrow, I know I'd be much more glad I had that memory with her than a nicely organized cupboard.<br /> I was writing a condensed version of this to a family member who will be arriving in 2 days to explain why my house didn't look ready for company and I realized that despite everything, I'd lived to tell about it. And that sometimes, things are out of your control and there is no "taking the bull by the horns" and mastering the situation. You just dig your heels in and hang on until it's over. You respond the best way you can. And that's good enough. And sometimes "good enough" is great.DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-78231328319784444212012-12-03T23:34:00.000-08:002012-12-04T07:56:43.830-08:00I AM somebody! and thoughts about socks Whenever I feel like I need some alone time, I just mention all the things that need to be done around the house. WHOOSH! They're gone. Without a trace. Ahhh...hello dishes, ol' buddy, ol' pal! I give a lot of ultimatums but no one really takes me seriously. They know they can usually outwait me (is that a word? It is now.) and I'll deal with it before it drives me to the brink of insanity. For instance, one of my brilliant offspring put the chocolate syrup bottle back in the refrigerator upside down before making sure the cap was securely closed. I discovered this when I tried to pry the mustard out of a thick layer of cold chocolate syrup. So, in my sternest "I'm not taking any crap of anybody" yet gentle, motherly tone, I told my precious babies that I would not buy any more chocolate syrup until SOMEBODY cleaned the chocolate out of the door of the fridge. I believe the 7 year old ( the one with the cute dimples the keep me from wringing her neck) said something to the effect that she knew she just had to wait because she knew I would eventually do it. I was about to get angry when the 15 year old who is, surprisingly, often the voice of reason, reminded me that while rude, the 7 year old wasn't off the mark.<br />
Let me back up a little further. My mom was from the South and had some interesting ways of describing the world. When someone would come up in the world a little, sometimes someone else would say, "Well, you just think you're someBODY!" It was usually a good natured ribbing and the up and comer was expected to pull the "Aw, shucks. I'm still the same guy." routine. ANYway, as I was scraping chocolate goo out of the refrigerator this afternoon, I realized- I AM some BODY!<br />
Another pursiut that allows me time to think is sorting socks. Unfortunately, I usually end up thinking about socks. Like-has anyone ever noticed the divorce rate among socks? It's tragic, really. Especially disturbing is when, not only does the old sock move out, a new one moves in. Seriously. I was folding socks the other day and there were random, single socks that I have never seen before. Divorce and (I hope) remarriage is the only plausible explaination I've been able to come up with.<br />
Socks should be easy math. Four dirty green toed socks+ detergent + fabric softener SHOULD equal four, clean, green toed socks. And some days it does. Like when I put all the socks in little mesh baggies before I wash them. Then, I pull them out, sort them and fold them. I tell my children, "Behold! I have cleansed and dried and matched your socks! We have socks to last a fortnight!". And we rejoice because there are plentiful socks in the land.<br />
But, alas, it is not to last. After a few days, the children tell me the clean socks are no more to be found and I notice something rotten in the State of McLain (No...It's not the fridge this time. Somebody already cleaned it). No. As I walk through the house, I notice lone socks lurking in dark corners. The absence of fressh mud and foul odor leads me to believe they're clean. Why it's one of the little green toed guys I folded just the other day. And down the hall is another, static clinging to a little purple toed crew length I've never seen before. What is happening? Do socks have an electric charge that I'm unaware of? And are they all positively charged so that when I fold them, they still repel one another? Or, is it as I mentioned earlier and they've all gone Kramer vs. Kramer on me? DO socks have a perfect mate? A sole mate, if you will? Do they have thoughts, opinions and preferences? Should socks be granted Personhood? And if so, do you think one of them would help me clean the fridge?DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-53153060281123744832012-11-24T20:13:00.003-08:002012-11-24T20:20:39.420-08:00Thankful for the end of vacation, otherwise known as whining I was low on energy today so I drank one of The Hubby's energy drinks. I don't know if I can mention the brand but I will say I'm STILL waithing for a thunderbolt to hit me with the ability to play bass guitar like that guy in that band that's really good.<br />
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Had a David Byrne moment as I tip-toed down the hallway to avoid stepping on Monopoly pieces in my stocking feet, to go shampoo the whoopie pie filling out of my hair and find a shirt that wasn't spattered with cake batter. </div>
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My kids have been out of school all week and my husband has worked 4 of the 8 nights they've been off. This means I have them for 24 uninterupted hours. Times 4. And then they've had friends over. And today, Lia has beeen an almost constant stream of neccessity. I have hit the wall. Next year, I am going to keep them so busy, they'll be begging to go back to school.</div>
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I meant to take them swimming yesterday but got side tracked. I remembered around 5 and could have taken them since the pool didn't close until 8:30. But The Hubby was going to work and I didn't want himto feel like I was ditching him. I really regretted the decision around 7. So today, when they asked to go to the playground, even though it was cold and dreary, I said yes. And even though we didn't get ready until almost sunset, we went. They wanted to have a picnic. So they were lugging the picnic basket to the car and oohing and aahing over the sunset and the moon.<br />
Before the park there was an aborted attempt to bake with the easy bake oven. Missing instructions= weird cake batter soup. We did make pink sugar cookie in the microwave. No that wasn't a typo. One pack of mix makes one grocery store sized cookie. Then we made whoopie pies from a box. (*Cough* I'd rather starve*cough*) Let's just say they weren't my Mama's. Canned vanilla frosting is not good on anything. I don't care how many rainbow sprinkles you put on it. Oh, yeah. There were the multiple attempts to keep Lia and friend upstairs while Bekah painted the nursery. And a shower. I got a shower today. That doesn't always happen when the kids are home and Hubby works. Unless, I get up before the kids or sneak one in after they <strike>go to sleep</strike> pass out. I announced my plan to shower and said, "all in favor, say 'Aye'.". The "ayes" were a little too enthusiastic, I thought.<br />
So to sum it up, I managed to drink an energy drink, make weird, counterfeit baked goods, bathe and take kids to a park while Bekah moved furniture and painted an entire room including the trim. Oh, yeah. I halfway loaded the dishwasher. Sometimes, my lack of productivity starts to bother me. When that happens, I have to go lie down until the feeling passes. (Mom 3 1/2, Bek 1. I win, right?) </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGWfRpdoH9_rHkezxmPeU_D3_mt8GjjF-gnsIOGg41cwzQ6IGz7ayZZv-OK67ddpgYZllqI4_XGr7Sc4EnUnx8X1c3SFnVgVHJX_FxbxPvoF46Mcm1nDjmz1VZfjT8X_kSJ7NtE8EH5TCi/s1600/WP_002533.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGWfRpdoH9_rHkezxmPeU_D3_mt8GjjF-gnsIOGg41cwzQ6IGz7ayZZv-OK67ddpgYZllqI4_XGr7Sc4EnUnx8X1c3SFnVgVHJX_FxbxPvoF46Mcm1nDjmz1VZfjT8X_kSJ7NtE8EH5TCi/s320/WP_002533.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ian and his fixin's for home made salsa. I have tried about 5 times to get this picture to load below the next paragraph. Just gave up. </td></tr>
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The playground in the semi dark was actually nice if you don't count the part where I let the kids out and went to park the car and before I got the car parked, Ian had tripped on some metal steps on a play structure, scraped his shins in three places and was lying on the ground crying and clutching his legs. He claimed walking was a little difficult so he was relegated to playing the zombie most of the time we were there. We got home just as it started sprinkling. Then the girls carpeted the living room with stuffed animals which I will have to put up Monday after several reminders and threats to send them to Goodwill tonight and tomorrow. And, Ian found a cache of McDonald's picante sauce pouches and is told me he has enough to make home made salsa. Did I mention I'm kinda lacking in the "domestic" department? <br />
Tea party over, they moved on to a game called Hullaballoo, which is great for helping kids learn to follow directions, or so I shall continue to hope. Lia's friend won several rounds in a row, which is purely by chance. But of course, when one of the kids comments on it, I can't control my sarcasm and interject, "Becasue she's cheating." This didn't have the humorous effect I wanted. It really did more to incite a riot. I don't drink but this is one of those days when I begin to contemplate doing so.<br />
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Author's note: The toys actually got put up before Lia's friend went home! Here's to good influences and hoping they rub off on my kids!</div>
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DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-92205421989253139032012-10-22T08:30:00.000-07:002012-10-22T15:24:17.866-07:00Dad Today marks the day that, in 1995, my dad died. I had just turned 23 a few weeks earlier and was really naive enough to think he was going to get better. I was so confident, I moved 892 miles away a few months before his death. Since I only lived 3 hours away, we stayed overnight at his house before setting out the next morning. As we hugged goodbye, the thought "this is the last time you'll see him" ran through my head. As usual, I second guessed myself and drove off into the wild blue yonder to "start over" in Mobile, AL.<br />
He had been diagnosed with cancer in 1992, while I was pregnant with my first child and when he said he was going to get better, I believed him. I was a Navy brat and I hadn't grown up around elderly of chronically ill people. I was completely ignorant. My husband, who grew up in a small town with extended family all around him, couldn't fathom that for a long time. I think he just gave up and said, "I get it." so I would stop trying to explain. It didn't occur to me to take time off from my crappy waitressing job in Maryland to help take care of him in Norfolk, Virginia. I didn't know you were supposed to do these things. It didn't help that I was getting divorced at the time and, rather than spend her entire childhood in court, I gave in and let my ex-husband have primary care of our daughter. My world was literally falling apart. I feel guilty to this day that people I had only met a few times drove him to doctor's appointments and checked on him when his girlfriend was at work. I have to remind myself that I was "just a kid" at the time and just didn't know.<br />
About a month before he died, he told his brother in Oregon that he wanted to go home. So, my aunt bought them some airline tickets and my uncle went to get my dad. The doctors said he couldn't make the trip so my uncle helped him into a wheelchair and told the staff they were going for a walk. It was, from all accounts, a miserable flight for my dad, my uncle and the guy sitting behind them who got mooned every time my uncle had to get behind the seat and pull dad up when he slid down in his seat. (ok. now I'm laughing thinking about the fact that "crack" seems to be a problem for the men in my family. My dad was always doing something around the house or on a vehicle and his crack was always there to help him and one of my cousins has the same "problem"- any time, anywhere) A few days later, one of the nurses from the hospice called my aunt to see if he had made the trip alright. She and my aunt laughed about the fact that the staff suspected my uncle and dad were making a run for it, but just let them go. He was in a hospice and even then, I believed he was going to get better.<br />
The day before he died, my aunt helped him call me. We talked for a few minutes and I don't even remember what about. I remember he sounded sleepy. I had written him a letter and my aunt encouraged me to send it and write to him often. I promised I would and we hung up. I cried because he sounded so weak.<br />
The next day, my aunt called to tell me he had died. She had gone in to sit with him and she suggested he take a walk on the beach, using guided imagery to aid in the pain management. He grew up on the Oregon coast, which is often covered in thick fog. I like to think he walked into that dense fog and kept going.<br />
As I get older, the thing that hurts the most is that, in my selfish youthfulness (or is it youthful selfishness?), all I cared about was getting the world to listen to ME and to look at ME and tell ME I was wonderful. I didn't ask questions about where he came from and what his thoughts and opinions were about much of anything. I didn't take the time to really get to know him.<br />
On top of my lack of curiosity, another reason I didn't ask questions was that our family instituted "Don't ask, Don't tell" long before Clinton exhaled that phrase. My dad had fought in Viet Nam but he didn't talk about it. I'm glad he didn't burden me with the reality of war as a child but as an adult, I would like to know about his experience since it shaped so much of my childhood. He didn't talk about it with my mom, either and I think that was because he just didn't want to relive the loss of shipmates and friends and the gruesome events he lived through. Back then, you came home and went back to your normal life. You just carried on as though you'd been out on an extended business trip. To open that up may have made all those emotions unmanageable.<br />
But it's not as though we lived in a vacuum, just existing side by side and never connecting. Dad loved the outdoors and there was lots of quality family time camping, boating, hiking in the woods or puttering in a garden. And we talked. A lot. My dad loved to read and was always excited about a new book- usually in the sciences or philosophy. He and my mom instilled a love of reading, and books in general, in me when I was very young.<br />
Everything I have tried to write from this point on sounds like a syrupy obituary. You know the one where they take half a page trying to convince the world that Charlie was a great guy who loved everyone and everyone loved him right back. So I'm going to wrap this up with a list of things I have come to realize I have learned from my dad.<br />
1) self reliance- My dad was big on this. He didn't ask for help nor did he accept offers of help. I've come to realize this was a foolish policy. Which leads me to my next lesson-<br />
2) learn from your mistakes- Dad used to say that the only stupid mistake is one you don't learn from. (I've learned a lot in 40 years)<br />
3) high standards- he held them for me but also for himself because...<br />
4) if it's worth doing, it's worth doing right.-and....<br />
5) failure is not an option- And you've only failed if you stopped trying. So...<br />
6) Keep a positive outlook<br />
7) "Put yourself in their shoes"- This used to drive me crazy! When I would complain about someone or disparage anything they did, this was his usual response. But it has served me well over the years. I feel like it has helped me to be a better nurse, parent, and friend. An added bonus is that I get to drive my husband and kids nuts with it!<br />
8) A good leader doesn't ask his/her people to do anything he/she wouldn't do.Dad was a Senior Chief in the Navy so he tried to teach me about leadership and this is one thing that has stood out for me over the years. <br />
And finally, this is not anything he ever said but definitely something that he lived-<br />
9) stay curious!<br />
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<br />DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-84302974663821191232012-06-26T20:00:00.000-07:002012-06-26T20:00:35.897-07:00Lia's rummage sale extravaganza<br />
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I started doing something called The Compact about 2 years ago. For those of you who haven't heard of it, it started in San Fransico several years ago when a small group of people agreed to buy nothing new for a year in an effort to reduce waste, the impact of manufacturing on the environment and consumerism. Or something like that. Look it up. It's not always easy but it is getting easier and my kids have pretty much accepted it as normal. I have ADD so disorganization can be a stumbling block because I sometimes forget that one does not simply walk into a thrift store or rummage sale and find exactly what one is looking for the first time. So I do end up having to buy new and paying full price occasionally. This weekend, however was a Compact success.<br />
The PTA had a rummage sale last weekend and I helped with the setting up and during the sale. We had four days of donations, two of which I helped with and then the day of the sale. Since JR had to work some of those days, I had to take the kids with me. (get a sitter you say? We don't do that. It wouldn't be a PTA function if there weren't 6 or 7 kids providing crazy background noise and the custodian telling them to get off the stage and quit playing on the piano) This was like a three day trip to the mall for Lia. JR came and helped set up for a while the day before the sale as well. The prices were insanely low and an hour before we shut down, we handed people paper bags and told them they could fill a bag for $2. I was "working" (code for looking for cool stuff) and Lia was off "playing" (code for looking for cool stuff) with another little girl. I laughed when I saw the other little girl holding up a dress and her mother telling her, "That doesn't fit you. That's why we donated it." I told Lia she could get a few things and to put them aside and I would pay for them at the end of the sale. I won't do that again. We ended up spending $48 but we got a ton of neat stuff , including but not limited to:<br />
an adult Nike Oregon Ducks football jersey. It's a 2X but I have 2 cousins who are big guys (tall) and they can fight over who gets it<br />
an Omega juicer that retails for around $200. Don't get grossed out. We knew most of the people who donated stuff. When you go to someone's house to eat, you eat off their dishes, right?<br />
A dart board<br />
Matching, dark brown slipcovers for a couch and love seat. I'd been looking for some for my 15 year old Southwest print couch and love seat and these looked brand new.<br />
2 small Ikea shelves, one of which has a lamp attached. I'll put these in Lia's room because she loves to arrange and rearrange the tchotchkys in her room but doesn't really have a lot of room for them. The lamp also just happens to match Lia's room. :-)<br />
A Salad Shooter<br />
A cheetah print Snuggie that Ian immediately claimed.<br />
A pair of Kenneth Cole sandals that a friend donated after wearing once<br />
A kids sized Nike Ducks football jersey.<br />
A few miscellaneous clothing items for the kids, a TON of books ( because I can never pass up a book table at a rummage sale), A VCR with a coaxial connecting cable for an old school TV that we put in our guest room, A like new, cloth shower curtain to replace the one I've had since 2004 and a matching bath mat (to replace the one I've had since 2004), a few miscellaneous kitchen items: a 12 muffin pan to replace the 2 six muffin pans I've been using (not a necessity, just a personal preference.), a couple steel utensils to replace some of the plastic in my kitchen, some Pampered Chef measuring spoons- you know the adjustable ones that let you measure 1/4 teaspoon up to 1 tsp- so I can dispense with the handful of odd measuring spoons cluttering up my drawer, a wooden, folding dish rack and a magazine holder- they're great for holding kids flimsy paper back books. Somehow, I managed to come home with a queen sized dust ruffle which is weird because I don't have a queen size bed.<br />
I think my favorite item is the plastic "No Whining" sign. I couldn't decide which room to hang it in but settled on putting some string through the hole at the top and wearing it around my neck. The same friend who donated the shoes also donated her Snuggie collection. Since Lia is always using mine, I grabbed a pink one for her.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhelDBvozWlnF6JK5Bn08cAmwSuZmf4mQ3MJBSQUpMXF-TImuQDUJVhSJgg1RcUf_NIMjbO9nr6CD46QyF65kK8j_aR-m3lZXZMgWujYoSGUoD7-GA_0FA_08dBY7L6wiSN0RFT47b4saBQ/s1600/WP_000595.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhelDBvozWlnF6JK5Bn08cAmwSuZmf4mQ3MJBSQUpMXF-TImuQDUJVhSJgg1RcUf_NIMjbO9nr6CD46QyF65kK8j_aR-m3lZXZMgWujYoSGUoD7-GA_0FA_08dBY7L6wiSN0RFT47b4saBQ/s320/WP_000595.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a close up of the dart board and Ian's first bulls-eye. </td></tr>
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And remember when I laughed at my friend's daughter for trying to buy her own dress back? Yeah. I was washing the clothes Lia picked out and pulled out a dress that looked familiar. It should have. It belonged to JR's cousin's daughter (who graduates college next year), Bekah and then, last year, when she finally grew into it, Lia. I told you my kids were getting into the Compact, too.<br />
I know you didn't really start reading this post because you wanted to hear about my juicer and a couple of football jerseys. You came to see what Lia picked out when she was unsupervised and allowed to bag her stuff herself, away from mom's prying, censoring eyes. So, without further ado, I give you Lia's Rummage Sale Extravaganza (ganza, ganza, ganza!): A pictorial essay<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmT0G3G7mnJFcpGn-JurTP7sSxq7dHwOiUOI4SKhjcLhgX1hqEIr-JAPZbQwWiWNSSwG8jHdnZnmBfJT234l0btbRs94khtrTAS5eipE_f3wljvGElh4M8hhgshunK0qr_LXF8bZhcs-S/s1600/WP_000598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmT0G3G7mnJFcpGn-JurTP7sSxq7dHwOiUOI4SKhjcLhgX1hqEIr-JAPZbQwWiWNSSwG8jHdnZnmBfJT234l0btbRs94khtrTAS5eipE_f3wljvGElh4M8hhgshunK0qr_LXF8bZhcs-S/s320/WP_000598.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A friend of mine wore this one Halloween and Lia and her son had played with it at their house so when she saw it , she snatched it up.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfB6mZ72Gu6EhTzCdXUhGcGgt31KpQH6XJRetCF-4PaS15IXdXxEIU_3Tc6tI3hoPihLyaWPIN_15YCxDzYbpFpXwqpksr7IekYueh9mlPCu5A7LddyI7AsediotaRUKVhmJOCiMxu2CJZ/s1600/WP_000599.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfB6mZ72Gu6EhTzCdXUhGcGgt31KpQH6XJRetCF-4PaS15IXdXxEIU_3Tc6tI3hoPihLyaWPIN_15YCxDzYbpFpXwqpksr7IekYueh9mlPCu5A7LddyI7AsediotaRUKVhmJOCiMxu2CJZ/s320/WP_000599.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some wall hangings that don't really (at all!) match her room and some stuffed animals- because she didn't already have a box overflowing with stuffed animals in addition to the pile on her bed.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Nt3zjdvQFtUo0peHdZJEziIFzCfxnMgxRSg2k6y171Af1bB-nA0K5gLkSzQ-h_QFpMrndoY5fKEazlIo9pt3BX36gCEI7ugOFAGDe9z-UGlAo_rctSiGaPxeZoXscur2XNPdh-8Uomo9/s1600/WP_000600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Nt3zjdvQFtUo0peHdZJEziIFzCfxnMgxRSg2k6y171Af1bB-nA0K5gLkSzQ-h_QFpMrndoY5fKEazlIo9pt3BX36gCEI7ugOFAGDe9z-UGlAo_rctSiGaPxeZoXscur2XNPdh-8Uomo9/s320/WP_000600.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A dress she not only found on one of the donation days, but changed into while we were still there. And a butt ton of costume jewelry.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjajURbokqHQ7-UHILKwarH3ZPmSPXZPk4HzzmLHU-tU9tPv_sidqDX9bFhRVkRlDNBaL8R3mcKsOa8LMDsvmt0H2walS30tBv19U4umndxSKiKWhoPn7u9nIxjBloXqmttz0hxZCw5h9gH/s1600/WP_000602.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjajURbokqHQ7-UHILKwarH3ZPmSPXZPk4HzzmLHU-tU9tPv_sidqDX9bFhRVkRlDNBaL8R3mcKsOa8LMDsvmt0H2walS30tBv19U4umndxSKiKWhoPn7u9nIxjBloXqmttz0hxZCw5h9gH/s320/WP_000602.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dress, all the jewelry and the "high heels" she has pranced around in all weekend.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2fIXELroQHooKk6Z5W781ZlvOcdgUc7dFKbL2hMgUbTbgJHpRZ861xM2QislrfgYFX9MR2Aeu9l_iMjjNQ8nhZgZL0XoOSWqVURausxy1InTMrhSwtX6flrvaXuBb_YqeyzHgV2VL-ral/s1600/WP_000606.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2fIXELroQHooKk6Z5W781ZlvOcdgUc7dFKbL2hMgUbTbgJHpRZ861xM2QislrfgYFX9MR2Aeu9l_iMjjNQ8nhZgZL0XoOSWqVURausxy1InTMrhSwtX6flrvaXuBb_YqeyzHgV2VL-ral/s320/WP_000606.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Myriad tchotchkys, mini train case, a wallet and brand new bath stuff. I said I liked her wallet and wished I had seen it because I've been using the same wallet for years. She offered to look for one for me at next year's sale, since she's good at picking out wallets. Also, I didn't know she had chosen the shower gel and body spray but they were new in the package so I let her keep them. The label on the body spray says Berries and Cream. Lia used some yesterday and it smelled like feet. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkiZ9BFnDefBQVVKMvJhbEiDskzireWuSeMZgp41YvTDMNHgGz0XJNkphk1ZahjlpHjVQPJwDY15-Uhzmbn-7Ojzvsum58ChsKiRj3LsNLGRwEID0W8k80mNg9mj6n09qv5Qot08REewQI/s1600/WP_000612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkiZ9BFnDefBQVVKMvJhbEiDskzireWuSeMZgp41YvTDMNHgGz0XJNkphk1ZahjlpHjVQPJwDY15-Uhzmbn-7Ojzvsum58ChsKiRj3LsNLGRwEID0W8k80mNg9mj6n09qv5Qot08REewQI/s320/WP_000612.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beginning of her Beanie Baby collection. yay</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjVyw1xJs4Csp9G9x6ARsrHNd9SwALHzg5AEagOfEENIVgORFRjXqLNfFYPXcbPCYCjnUyeUEiZMeLR7Di26VA-PWSbCR3PKztlaN1upT41HyDBaTmaJmaq556UhKGv-o9fmDsx_VYAbnN/s1600/WP_000607.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjVyw1xJs4Csp9G9x6ARsrHNd9SwALHzg5AEagOfEENIVgORFRjXqLNfFYPXcbPCYCjnUyeUEiZMeLR7Di26VA-PWSbCR3PKztlaN1upT41HyDBaTmaJmaq556UhKGv-o9fmDsx_VYAbnN/s320/WP_000607.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Her key chain collection. Currently housed in her mini train case. Also a few more pieces of fine jewelry in the upper center of the collection. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnKgES_Q2DMPSJsduZ3gOJAOtoK0b6B6sROqCNYbqfEzgviI7pWI2BsOjq7H7NPIkP8mcnFBKNFol3bM8fDbdtoKh52hu6uByBXr3QgeQPYmPyPvNNrMJV-xIr-5cpPuYXlJxgsv1gnO_Y/s1600/WP_000611.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnKgES_Q2DMPSJsduZ3gOJAOtoK0b6B6sROqCNYbqfEzgviI7pWI2BsOjq7H7NPIkP8mcnFBKNFol3bM8fDbdtoKh52hu6uByBXr3QgeQPYmPyPvNNrMJV-xIr-5cpPuYXlJxgsv1gnO_Y/s320/WP_000611.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aaanndd..One more random knicknack that slipped by me. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX7z4TYR2OtbUYNwXBVWKkq8rIZhzW8uuIcP4fLi_QTD40YWwBIKREAC3Eb00_1SPQn8GTDBAzZVFeu48qssT5QezAY4gMi3X96IrkcQXCh_iKeoSOohx-F8nuikus9zT0axHZCpuRtzLK/s1600/WP_000604.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX7z4TYR2OtbUYNwXBVWKkq8rIZhzW8uuIcP4fLi_QTD40YWwBIKREAC3Eb00_1SPQn8GTDBAzZVFeu48qssT5QezAY4gMi3X96IrkcQXCh_iKeoSOohx-F8nuikus9zT0axHZCpuRtzLK/s320/WP_000604.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last t but not least, a couple more of Her Ladyship rocking The Hat. </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpklUpdwqyrdzYK552a2m-0SA4NnQxr4bKkJkfXISemjfNW_d8GbnSRbDfwsXd3L3H7Lw2-ZRjsG8OJ4-xqjzhPX05GLaGD0CcNta_8P55yAnf_tymbraIcrUJC7XIs4BUhB5cG6JxQprc/s1600/WP_000605.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/AVvXsEjpklUpdwqyrdzYK552a2m-0SA4NnQxr4bKkJkfXISemjfNW_d8GbnSRbDfwsXd3L3H7Lw2-ZRjsG8OJ4-xqjzhPX05GLaGD0CcNta_8P55yAnf_tymbraIcrUJC7XIs4BUhB5cG6JxQprc/s320/WP_000605.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-62684340240847736982012-06-07T21:57:00.001-07:002012-06-07T21:57:17.707-07:00<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8TnSjeZQdxzZ1mcMw0foZH3C1m2TTgnAQoNK2hS7nvAIuN1szY20xFu1XSOnl3f_-Wh0pubFsj8k3NnryvvUSmvB45GuY1D_p9zGzCw1bVcJ8Cnwqj2CM7BgjpdoOP0I4MLIN491BdzfI/s1600/465483_480771725273096_262589117_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;">Birthday season has officially begun here at Hoose Ay McLain! We kicked it off with cookies for Ian's class and his birthday dinner tonight. He picked shrimp, salad and home made french fries, followed up by cake and ice cream. Bekah helped us start a new tradition of using leftover icing as war paint. Tomorrow is JR's birthday. We'll be meeting some friends at a place called Roscoe's for some poo</a></span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8TnSjeZQdxzZ1mcMw0foZH3C1m2TTgnAQoNK2hS7nvAIuN1szY20xFu1XSOnl3f_-Wh0pubFsj8k3NnryvvUSmvB45GuY1D_p9zGzCw1bVcJ8Cnwqj2CM7BgjpdoOP0I4MLIN491BdzfI/s1600/465483_480771725273096_262589117_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;">l. Saturday finds us at home for Ian's birthday party. Nothing fancy. We're just cooking out and letting the kids have a water gun war. Should be fun. I'm going to try to do what we call a quick company clean up tonight and get my shopping done tomorrow.</span>
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;">Trying to keep it simple, sweetie. Enjoy your weeken</span></a>d <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8TnSjeZQdxzZ1mcMw0foZH3C1m2TTgnAQoNK2hS7nvAIuN1szY20xFu1XSOnl3f_-Wh0pubFsj8k3NnryvvUSmvB45GuY1D_p9zGzCw1bVcJ8Cnwqj2CM7BgjpdoOP0I4MLIN491BdzfI/s1600/465483_480771725273096_262589117_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8TnSjeZQdxzZ1mcMw0foZH3C1m2TTgnAQoNK2hS7nvAIuN1szY20xFu1XSOnl3f_-Wh0pubFsj8k3NnryvvUSmvB45GuY1D_p9zGzCw1bVcJ8Cnwqj2CM7BgjpdoOP0I4MLIN491BdzfI/s1600/465483_480771725273096_262589117_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: transparent; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">!</span> <img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8TnSjeZQdxzZ1mcMw0foZH3C1m2TTgnAQoNK2hS7nvAIuN1szY20xFu1XSOnl3f_-Wh0pubFsj8k3NnryvvUSmvB45GuY1D_p9zGzCw1bVcJ8Cnwqj2CM7BgjpdoOP0I4MLIN491BdzfI/s320/465483_480771725273096_262589117_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">The candle was hand made by Ian on a field trip to the Oregon Trail Discovery Center. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1oCTcm-b2exNvvpQK80ecTqW-6GmD0cy3lghlzJETVs90XlxBFwqwYZnvCJdILt9GqSClo_SVC6DaCc3F2p4r9z0YoTqsShfzjuIyME5IL54h2n_JUs96wMNwHUB3vqiE1B03Fr8RIom/s1600/474993_480772278606374_249959555_o+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1oCTcm-b2exNvvpQK80ecTqW-6GmD0cy3lghlzJETVs90XlxBFwqwYZnvCJdILt9GqSClo_SVC6DaCc3F2p4r9z0YoTqsShfzjuIyME5IL54h2n_JUs96wMNwHUB3vqiE1B03Fr8RIom/s320/474993_480772278606374_249959555_o+(1).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the small dollop of frosting under his left eye</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjptp6h6kJEYk4tivMV49QrBfHETFV721MzJ4L6haPLCC9vL5LTDNPAAocLHvN9zew32KNlgaOIuDWfG55WjDN6Lj4wnBxUriNW9pyKpkeJ8rVJ8zO2YDnxULmtud7tU7rQhtzgSDkSEDUo/s1600/466143_480773098606292_927249611_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjptp6h6kJEYk4tivMV49QrBfHETFV721MzJ4L6haPLCC9vL5LTDNPAAocLHvN9zew32KNlgaOIuDWfG55WjDN6Lj4wnBxUriNW9pyKpkeJ8rVJ8zO2YDnxULmtud7tU7rQhtzgSDkSEDUo/s320/466143_480773098606292_927249611_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A new tradition is born. Icing becomes war paint</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"> </span>DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-53390816780283940012012-06-07T02:22:00.002-07:002012-06-07T21:59:53.968-07:00Our First Year Part 2 or "Wagons West!" It could have been an uneventful trip. If we had taken other people's kids. If we hadn't taken a jittery cat. If we could have sedated our kids for the entire 2600 miles. But we all know none of that happened. =)<br />
We pulled out of Millry, Alabama (where's that? you ask. My daughter, Bekah, will tell you, "First you get out your map of Nowhere. It's right in the middle.") 4 hours later than we planned. The trailer with all our worldly possessions (not counting the house worth of stuff we left in storage at my in-laws) was smaller than we anticipated so we had to pack a few more things in the back of our SUV than we'd initially planned. Bekah and the cat, Jeff, were supposed to have the whole third row to themselves. But we put one of the seats down and all our electronics in the "way back" and the space formerly occupied by the seat. That left Bekah in the smaller of the seats and the cat in his carrier on top of the TV in the back. Oh yeah, and our luggage. And a box of pillows and throw blankets. Sounds comfy, huh?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-cgBpuT0fa_aDYk3OM2c2Mf-Hsl0L0eQ4_fHLZDzvvBNvolAjib8O7eVk5juwzkRLcsijXxGIKzK7mDNiUTukWL-4F0HHb-5Qmg2sLYH3IhHvKYNCPvPyCo1IMwUZpxPqFn0eSdDGt94Q/s1600/Portland+July-Aug+086.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-cgBpuT0fa_aDYk3OM2c2Mf-Hsl0L0eQ4_fHLZDzvvBNvolAjib8O7eVk5juwzkRLcsijXxGIKzK7mDNiUTukWL-4F0HHb-5Qmg2sLYH3IhHvKYNCPvPyCo1IMwUZpxPqFn0eSdDGt94Q/s320/Portland+July-Aug+086.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All we needed was a rocking chair on top for Granny...</td></tr>
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We stopped for dinner at a restaurant by the freeway in Meridian,Mississippi. Since the cat had been cooped up for about three hours, I decided he needed fresh air and probably had to pee. We put a harness on him and hooked a leash to it and attempted to "walk" him in a vacant lot by the restaurant. Did I mention he was jittery? Did I also mention that I'd only put the harness on him once or twice before and then only to make sure it fit properly? Did I mention as well, that we had lived in the country for most of his life and he wasn't accustomed to the sound of eighteen wheelers whizzing by on the freeway? Furthermore, the harness was for small dogs. I remember thinking it was stupid that the pet department of Walmart didn't sell harnesses for cats. How else was I supposed to take him out for a wee? As he jumped around at the end of the leash and somehow worked his way out of the harness and under a conveniently placed brush pile in under thirty seconds, I realized that they don't sell cat harnesses because there's really not much of a market for them. <br />
The brush was really thick and it being Mississippi in July, I was wary of snakes, so I didn't just reach in and try to pull him out. I don't remember now who took the kids in to eat and who stayed outside to try to coax the cat out of the brush but we traded off at some point. I do remember that JR was so upset, he couldn't eat his dinner and that he took the bag of cat food over to the brush pile so the cat wouldn't starve immediately. Despite the fact that we lived in the country, Jeff didn't venture far from the porch. I never walked out on the porch in the morning to be greeted by dead mangled critters. Survival was not his strong suit. Before we left, we decided to try once more to find him. JR and the kids went toward a ditch further away from the road and I went back to the brush pile. I heard a rustling noise and went over to the food bag. I fully expected to find a badger or raccoon but there was Jeff with his head in the bag! Talking softly to him, I eased over and was able to grab him before he could disappear back under the brush pile. I was so thankful, I almost cried.<br />
Apparently the truckers had failed to communicate to one another that there was a frightened cat at mile marker whatever and to find an alternate route because they were still racing by noisily. And Jeff wasn't over his fear of them. I held him in a death grip as I tried to get JR's and the kid's attention to let them know Jeff was safe. There was much rejoicing and Jeff was more than willing to get back in his carrier once we got to the truck. Thus went the first three and a half hours of our trip. <br />DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-54860613012192720612012-02-10T00:35:00.000-08:002012-02-10T00:35:04.455-08:00I Heart Mom Today would have been my mom's 63rd birthday. On April 8, 2011 she died of a blood clot following quintuple bypass and heart valve repair surgery. I was going to write a well researched piece about the fact that heart disease is the NUMBER ONE KILLER of women in the U.S. and go into all the signs and symptoms, like unexplained fatigue, shortness of breath, dizziness, cold sweats, indigestion/ nausea/upper abdominal pain, and pain in the throat, jaw or arm (especially the left), but my kids needed me tonight. My six year old, Lia, fell on a play structure this afternoon and her shin was hurting so I had to put a warm towel on it. My son's hamster died yesterday and as Ian went to bed tonight, I tried to discreetly remove the cage from his room so he wouldn't see the empty cage and get upset all over again. Turns out removing the cage was what upset him and led to a (very short) crying spell. So, I sat in the room with him, hugged him, told him it was normal to want to keep your loved one's things just as they were and not change anything and we talked about grieving. Bekah sat around and talked about her day, derby practice, something funny someone posted on Tumblr, and other things for a few minutes before hugging us and going to bed.<br />
I was going to list all the normal values for total cholesterol (less than 200), and the various components of total cholesterol such as LDL, the "bad" cholesterol (less than 130) and HDL, the 'good" cholesterol (38-94) and triglycerides (35-135). And then I was going to explain them (look it up). I was going to cite lots of research but when I typed "Women and Heart Disease" in my search engine, I was overwhelmed with all the information. So I'm urging you to educate yourself. Learn what high blood pressure is (anything greater than 120/80) and the connection between high blood pressure and heart disease. While you're at it learn about normal blood sugar levels (70-110) and how abnormal levels can affect your heart. There's also a menopause connection. Researchers have noticed that women are more susceptible to something called Microvascular disease or MVD that affects the small blood vessels of the heart and is not detected by the usual studies that focus on larger arteries. So your heart goes for a long time without receiving the oxygen and blood it needs before you ever realize you have a problem and you've already sustained damage to the heart muscle. This seems to be triggered by the drop in estrogen after menopause<br />
But, I'm not going as in depth into these matters because I was busy with my kids. I was getting irritated because they just didn't understand that I was missing my mom. Then it occurred to me that I was being selfish and that they needed their mama, too. I started thinking about my mom and the good, the bad and the ugly. My mom wasn't perfect and she made some mistakes along the way but most of her parenting was motivated by her love for me and a desire for me to turn out to be a decent human being. She always loved me and believed in me and as I'm writing this, I'm tearing up thinking about the times in high school, when anxiety would get the better of me and she would stay up until early in the morning listening to me and encouraging me and, above all, to never, ever give up. For my mom, life was to be explored and lived as an adventure. She liked to talk about people grabbing life "by the horns". I didn't realize how much I still depended on her until, suddenly, I couldn't call her to ask her opinion on something or tell her about something funny or great the kids had done. And I realized I want to be a mom like my mom was. I want to be a mom that my adult kids WANT to have around. And I want to be the mom that they really miss when I'm gone because I made their lives so great.<br />
So, I guess I would summarize these somewhat disconnected thoughts with this advice: if your mom is still around, love her and appreciate her. If she wasn't such a great mom or your relationship hasn't been so great, love her anyway. Try to focus on just one good, happy, positive thing you share. Or just call her and tell her you love her and you appreciate her efforts. You'll both be glad you did. And then, if you have kids, be the best parent you can. Even if your kids are grown and you have a weird relationship, just tell them you love them. You don't have to see eye to eye on everything. Put in the effort and FIND something you can agree on and go from there. If your kids are young, start making memories now. Your kids will appreciate the attention. And lastly, do what you can to be there with them for a long, long time.<br />
And, so I don't get in trouble, here are a few websites you might want to check out:<a href="http://symptoms-of-heart-attack-in-women.com/">http://symptoms-of-heart-attack-in-women.com/</a>, <a href="http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/heart-disease/HB00040">http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/heart-disease/HB00040</a>, <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/Health/HeartDiseaseNews/top-symptoms-heart-disease-women/story?id=14009993#.TzTWBsU7WAh">http://abcnews.go.com/Health/HeartDiseaseNews/top-symptoms-heart-disease-women/story?id=14009993#.TzTWBsU7WAh</a>.DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-69047035346933140482012-01-23T19:38:00.000-08:002012-01-23T19:40:37.248-08:00feng shui and hoarding I'm having a get together this weekend and am <strike>frantically </strike>trying to get my two households (my mom's and mine) worth of <strike>clutter</strike> <strike>junk</strike> stuff under control. The basement in my house is finished off and divided into three rooms, what we call "the big room" that's at the bottom of the stairs and affords no privacy and two other rooms with doors. One is my older daughter's room and the other is a library/spare room. Since we've moved in, the big room has just been a big storage room but the library/spare room has been set up and used by company twice. The other night, my daughter and I moved the boxes into the spare room (one with a door) and the futon and chairs out into the big room. The big room looks so nice as a family room- which it will be some day. It was so nice to be able to close the door on the stuff I haven't been able to go through yet. I thought of all the other stuff that I'm still trying to find a permanent home for and for a brief moment, I entertained the idea of using that room for a junk room. Then I realized I would have to give up my quiet library and any overnight company would not have any privacy. Plus, I don't want to be a person who has a junk room- that room you just toss everything into and don't ever deal with again.<br />
That got me thinking about the claim that clutter creates negative energy and how some people feel Feng Shui creates positive energy flow. Most people who de-clutter their space will testify to feeling so much better mentally and emotionally. When I was purging our stuff to get ready for our move from Alabama to Oregon, I had a great time getting rid of stuff. Our local thrift store put up a "No Vacancy" sign and I gave my friend's daughter two pick-up truck loads of stuff for a yard sale and I still have a room full of stuff at my mother-in-law's house I need to get rid of when we go back to visit. I brought you through all that to bring you to this point- my clutter-energy connection theory. I'm just wondering if it's not that the stuff creates negative energy but that being the person who holds on to things past their usefulness drains your positive energy. Is it possible that being concerned with the management of your belongings brings unnecessary stress into your life and closes up your world just a little bit? Maybe letting go of your junk frees up your time and energy for you to go places or pursue other endeavors that will move you further toward being WHO you want to be instead of being WHAT you own.DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-47961195219023270582012-01-16T00:23:00.000-08:002012-01-16T00:23:35.511-08:00Dinner's ready I hate to be busy. I know a lot of people who seem to manage 3 or 4 activities in one day but I'm not one of them. Lately, my life has gone into overdrive. Or, as some people would put it- out of neutral. 4 nights a week, we have something going on in the evening which wouldn't be a big deal except my husband works nights and has to leave the house by 6:30. I'm not terribly domestic to start with. When we were dating, J.R. took pictures of me cooking so he'd have proof that it did happen. Nobody would have believed him otherwise. I really thought that if God had intended for me to cook, He wouldn't have put so many take out places between my job and home. But, I digress. <br />
Being busy in the afternoon/ early evening made dinner hectic to say the least. Not that the kids minded Ramen for supper. They thought they were on vacation- for the first couple of days. J.R. could only pretend it was Pho for so long. So, today, while the kids played in our snow <strike>storm </strike> <strike>squall</strike> <strike>flurry</strike> near miss, fought, drank cocoa, caught up on homework, fought, went to derby practice, <strike>fought</strike> <strike>wrestled</strike> fought and watched The Flintstone's, I cooked. I made a double batch of pancakes this morning and froze the leftovers then got started on dinner. I made double batches of 3 dishes everybody likes and put them in the fridge and freezer.(I have no idea what I'm going to do next week because that was my whole repertoire of "stuff all 3 kids like") So now, we can either heat up the whole pan and all have the same thing or everyone can just pick what they want and eat buffet style. Whatever they wanna do. Just so I'm not tearing my hair out at 5 o'clock.<br />
Of course, Sneaky Mom paid a very brief visit. She added flax seed meal to the pancakes for some extra omega-3s and encouraged me to try to find a way to incorporate more fiber and protein without making them dense and unpalatable. (If this makes me sound the least bit schizophrenic, don't worry, my kids think I am, too) Then we ground up some carrots and kidney beans and mixed them with the ground turkey that I put in the Taco Mac- which I made with homemade cheese sauce. She was going to puree some cauliflower into the mashed potatoes for the shepherd's pie but J.R. made them and she forgot to mention it until he was putting the cheese on top. I also made this chicken and noodle stuff that tastes a little like chicken and dumplings. We call it Chicken and Noodles (pretty clever, huh?). The original recipe calls for Velveeta (it's a Southern thang. Don't judge) and, sometimes, sour cream. But tonight, we used leftover, homemade cheese sauce and Greek yogurt. It was less processed, anyway, and that's one of Sneaky Mom's big goals. Now that that's done, I'm off to make matching clothes for the kids from some old drapes.DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-72410561424002726832011-12-10T21:57:00.000-08:002011-12-10T21:57:06.035-08:00A good week My house would usually not be described with such vague, subjective adjectives as "neat" or "tidy". I do try but I get pretty busy with the kids activities, JR's activities, PTA, my other activities, church, the cat, grocery shopping, Facebook, staring out the window to make sure the guy walking his dog has a baggie and isn't afraid to use it. But, I digress. Today, my sister-in-law arrived from Southeast Asia where she teaches English. Since we knew she was coming ahead of time (just popping in has proven tricky in the past), we decided that was as good an excuse as any to clean it. I spent a lot of time developing the most efficient strategy for decluttering and organizing all of our things so that all I would have to do would be to dust and vacuum the day before she got here. Like many great planners, my husband and I spent all day Thursday and Friday putting up clothes, toys, books and every piece of paper that has ever entered our house. We also managed to make fliers for the PTA Holiday tree recycling fundraiser that I naively volunteered to coordinate, coach Ian's basketball team both afternoons, take Bekah to a poetry reading for her English class, help the PTA collect food for the holiday food drive and distribute those tree fliers, dance every time a really good song came on the radio and laugh our butts about my "mommy voice" off at dinner. I'm gonna get mushy here but my husband rocks. He worked off Wednesday morning, took a nap and got up and started working on a few projects around the house. When we went to bed Friday night, I could see my kitchen counters and the floor in every room of the house (except mine. Well, you can see the floor but not the top of my dresser). It was a blissful sleep.DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-73122424278774476182011-12-05T21:23:00.000-08:002011-12-05T21:23:07.334-08:00normal everyday weirdness Things in our house get a little...silly,weird, crazy (take your pick). JR and I have very irreverent senses of humor and we're fluent in Sarcasm. We're also both nurses who talk about "stuff" at the dinner table. Combine that with a few cases of unmedicated ADHD and it's a small wonder that our kids say some slightly outrageous stuff. Like today. My 14 yr old and her brother were having some sort of verbal play battle that always results in one or the other quoting The Cat in the Hat and shouting, "I will end you!". Bekah then told him she would cut him up and put him in chili. All I could picture was 1000 cops milling around my house, botching a crime scene, news cameras and my hubby and I tearfully protesting our innocence. So I said, "Do not do that. Do you know whenever a kid goes missing, the police never go looking for him. They just interrogate the parents and blame them until all the leads go cold."<br />
She offered to confess. I told her we couldn't let her do that because then we would be accused of coercing her to confess and take the rap for us. Then Lia cried,"No! I'll miss you when you go to jail!" ("when", not "if". Thanks, Lia.)<br />
At this point, Ian piped up and said, "Hellooo! What about me being dead?" Is it any wonder he has "Middle Child Syndrome"?<br />
Then there was our trip to the grocery store today where Bekah and I were hip checking each other down the aisles. Somehow we ended up threatening violence (I'm not sure how we got there, either. But I assure you it was all in fun.) There was a woman with 2 preschoolers picking out chocolate chips next to us as Bekah said, "See this fist?" To which I replied.,"See mine? You won't in a minute!" Chocolate chip lady threw a bag in her cart and told her kids,"We're gonna go this way." and turned around. After we finished giggling, Bekah pointed out that it was a little disturbing that the woman heard me threaten to punch my child and turned the other way (hmm...future <strike>rant</strike> post?)<br />
Additionally, our overuse of the internet provides much mirth and merriment. There was the Google search for "Cooking with soy flour" last night. I typed in 'cooking with' and a list of possibilities popped up. The first one, Cooking with Dog, caught my eye. It made me a little uneasy but the train wreck factor kicked in (you know- when you can't NOT look?). Turns out it was a Japanese cooking vlog narrated by a poodle that sits right there by the prep area. I was right. I WAS grossed out. But, it was too good not to share, so I called Bekah over to witness the silliness. When I typed in "cooking with", to show her how "Cooking with Dog" popped up, she said, "Look at the last one. 'Cooking with cannabis'" (why do kids always notice what you DON'T want them to?) TRAIN WRECK! Sooo, we pulled it up. Aaannnd, of course, one of the first entries was an article by The Portland Mercury. (gotta love this town!)<br />
Last, but certainly not least, is my lovely daughter "outing" me on Facebook today (before the grocery store). I get SMS updates on my phone and got a '[someone] commented on your status' text. It read "are you sharing something? lol". I was trying to remember what I had posted yesterday when another update popped up reading "congratulations." I suddenly remembered that I had just exited the web without signing out earlier in the day and that Bekah was sitting at the computer trying to ignore me. I pulled up FB on my phone and there it was. I made some sort of unintelligible noise as she burst into laughter. It was such a great hack that I left it up. ( I am, however, a little confused about the number of people who "liked" my status...) The two younger kids wanted to know what all the commotion was about and when we told them, Ian said, "Mom's not gay. She's married to Dad! She can't be." And sweet little Lia chimed in with, "Mom can't be gay. Gay people are fun!" as if that settled it. If only the chocolate chip lady had been here then. She might have understood.DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-86220461534829020492011-12-05T01:12:00.000-08:002011-12-05T01:12:51.635-08:00Making a mess in the kitchen and a free miscellaneous rant I'm learning to love to cook again. Yay! A few nights ago, I found a really easy recipe for Alfredo sauce ( <a href="http://allrecipes.com/recipe/quick-and-easy-alfredo-sauce/detail.aspx">http://allrecipes.com/recipe/quick-and-easy-alfredo-sauce/detail.aspx</a>) and it was a hit with all 3 of the Leprechauns and my hubby. Tonight, I set a small amount aside and blended it with a little bit of spinach. I used canned because that's what I had but would have preferred fresh. It was pretty good but, because of the color and consistency, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was eating baby food. Next time, I'll play around with the fresh stuff until I get it right.<br />
I had a good bit of spinach left over and didn't want to freeze it and play the "what's this?" game in a few weeks so I decided to make chocolate muffins with it. I know some slightly well known comedian who had a little show in the 80s' wife has a book about the same thing but I'm older than her and lots of moms have been sneaking stuff into spaghetti sauce, meatloaf and muffins for quite a while now. I found a recipe, (<a href="http://allrecipes.com/recipe/chocolate-muffins/detail.aspx">http://allrecipes.com/recipe/chocolate-muffins/detail.aspx</a>) that had a lot of positive comments, read and noted the comments, and got to work. I put a little too much cocoa in them for my taste but with a little Nutella, I think my kids will eat some of it...<br />
I'm begining to think you can only put so much nutrition into one muffin. I hoped the extra cocoa would mask the spinach and it did- a little. So I'm going to reduce the spinach in the recipe and the cocoa because it's really too chocolate-y (yes, I think maybe there is such a thing). I traded the 1 cup of sour cream for 1 cup of plain yogurt and the all purpose flour for whole wheat flour and some oats that I ground finely. Since I didn't have enough white sugar, I substituted some brown sugar. In all, they weren't bad. The whole wheat flour isn't as fine as the white so there's a little grainy feel and, again, too much cocoa made them not as sweet as my kids might like. But the yogurt didn't make them taste weird and the whole grains didn't make them dense. since my kids have ADD and protein in the morning has been shown to be beneficial (and lots of other reasons- like stabilizing blood sugar), I want to experiment with replacing some of the wheat flour with soy flour<br />
Here's the recipe I ended up using<br />
1/2C ground oats<br />
1 1/4 C Whole wheat flour<br />
3/4 C cocoa<br />
1/2 teaspoon salt<br />
1 tsp baking powder<br />
1/2 tsp baking soda<br />
3/4 C white sugar<br />
3/4 C brown sugar (do I have to tell you to pack it?)<br />
1/2 C chocolate chips (because my kids would eat dirt if I told them it had CCs in it)<br />
Mix all this into a bowl<br />
3 eggs, beaten<br />
~1/2 C spinach, pureed (don't lick your fingers if you get any on them)<br />
1 C plain yogurt<br />
1/2 C water<br />
1/2 C milk<br />
mix this in with the dry ingredients. bake at 325 for about 20 minutes.<br />
Serve with milk, because that's what you eat with chocolate cake.<br />
<br />
I'm sure if anybody reads this, they're going to have some comments about their perfect nutritional habits. To them I say. "So?" If this isn't something you'd eat, Move on. My kids have developed bad eating habits over the years,largely while I was working 12 hour night shifts and my husband was commuting 2 hours one way to school (and STILL pulling the highest GPA in his class while trying to raise our 3 younger kids while I was at work) and I'm trying to improve them. I was a little bummed I couldn't fit a whole serving of veggies and protein into one muffin but I realized I was still getting a little extra veggie, whole grains, protein and calcium in. And a little bit here and there is better than none at all. This fits in to two philosophies that I really love but tend to neglect. The first being "Baby steps", whereby you accomplish great things one small step at a time. The second is "good enough mothering". I heard the concept ( the Good Enough Mother) a few years ago but never read the book so I'm probably way off from the author's original concept but I don't care. It's my life, I'll do what I want. Anyway, I remind myself that everything doesn't have to be perfect all the time and I don't have to do everything that all the other moms are doing. If it doesn't work for my family, it's not good for us. Enough said. Life is too long to stress about every little detail. If the fate of the free world doesn't hang in the balance, then do a good enough job and move on. When you're old, you'll wish you'd played tag on that sunny day instead of cleaning the carpet.DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939735421232899979.post-67387132228263327742011-11-09T00:33:00.000-08:002011-11-09T00:33:55.783-08:00Prop 26 So Mississippi made the news tonight. But this time, it wasn't for anything those of us in the diaspora will hide in shame about. Proposition 26, the Personhood clause, did not pass. This is not just big for Mississippi but for the nation as well. In case you're not familiar with it, it was a short, very vaguely worded amendment to the state constitution that would have established that the state recognizes that life begins at conception. This was initiated by a group called Personhood USA. They are trying to get this amendment passed in all 50 states. Most Mississippians already believe that life begins at conception so this should have been an easy vote, right? Not so. With this came numerous implications for all aspects of reproductive rights. Not only would this have outlawed abortion in the state but also restricted what forms of birth control, infertility treatments and medical procedures would be available to women. Most hormonal birth control methods, In vitro fertilization, cryo storage of in vitro embryos, uterine ablation to stop excessive bleeding, and termination of an ectopic pregnancy are among the procedures that may have become illegal. Let me say here that I am most definitely pro-life as are most other Southerners. As a nurse, however, I cannot imagine telling a rape victim that I can't give her the "morning after" pill because it may prevent the implantation of the baby of the jerk who just violated her. That would be a second violation. I guess I should include victims of incest here but, in my mind, I did when I mentioned rape victims- but that's another rant. Do I want to be the person who has to tell the childless couple that we have the technology to help them get pregnant but we can't use it because we MIGHT make too many embryos and they MIGHT not all make it and... I could go on but I think you get the picture. There are a lot of ethical questions concerning the issues of birth control, in vitro fertilization and abortion for whatever reason. I never thought I would be on the same side as the Pro-Choice camp but here I am saying let ME decide. If you have a problem with hormonal birth control and think it has the potential to cause a miscarriage, don't use it. If you think it's wrong to terminate an ectopic pregnancy or perform a D&C on a woman who's having a miscarriage, then go ahead and bleed out. Just don't take away MY option. And that's what Mississippi said tonight.DustiMchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01690690242393814087noreply@blogger.com1