Scribbit | A Blog About Motherhood in Alaska

Have a Happy New Year

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 21:59:00 +0000

I've been gone so long that the emails have stopped coming and I've stopped looking.

But for those kind enough to wonder where I've taken off to I thought I'd at least let you know we're alive and well and looking forward to another year but I'm afraid life has given me other things to do instead of blogging.

Here's a picture of our last camping trip at the end of the summer at Quartz Creek where we had a great time and the kids kayaked and rode horses till they nearly dropped from exhaustion. Andrew, Spencer and Grace ran the zombie half-marathon at Halloween and now she's waiting nervously for her college application to BYU to got through. We're all pulling for her and think she's definitely going to get in but it's up in the air till we have that letter in hand, right? Spencer's been busy with cross country skiing and running and his graphic design business is booming, he's had four or five clients so far and is finishing up a series of ten or so graphics right now.

David is dealing with middle school (what else can you really say about those years after all?) but is loving basketball and got the lead in You're a Good Man Charlie Brown slated for opening the middle of February (we're teasing him that he'll have to shave his head to get fully into character). And then Lillian is trying out for the role of Cossette in the local high school production of Les Miserables. We'll see if that happens, she's having fun practicing.

But me?

Last May I was asked to teach an early morning scripture study class for high school juniors in our area and after planning and preparing all summer long classes started August 22nd and I've been doing that ever since. They come at 6 am each school day, we do our best to get through a few chapters in the Old Testament (our text for this year, New Testament is next year) and then I go home, wonder how on earth I can do it again and spend the rest of the day frantically pulling together another lesson.

I actually love it--I love studying scripture, love the kids I teach and love what they teach me but it has pretty much eaten up any extra time I may have had. The good news is that it's really a blessing to know exactly what you need to accomplish each day and then have a chance to practice it over and over again.

But before I leave you for another four months, I thought I'd at least share a few things. With the Christmas break I've been doing some outside reading and have found some amazing books along the way:

Bloodwork: A Tale of Medicine and Murder in the Scientific Revolution by Holly Tucker.
I heard about this on one of my favorite podcasts, Stuff You Missed in History Class. It's nonfiction but reads like a novel and tells the story of the first blood transfusions. Seriously icky stuff but as fascinating as a train wreck. You get a bit of 17th century French culture, the history of medicine and circulatory theory and a great who-dunnit that solves a 300 year-old cold case. Highly recommended.

Plato and a Platypus Walk into a Bar: Understanding Philosophy through Jokes by Thomas Cathcart and Daniel Klein.
It's just what the title suggests, a basic outline of philosophy as illustrated in humor. It's funny and easy to digest and gives you a better appreciation for the world of the joke. My only gripe is that some of the jokes (maybe a quarter of them) are raunchy and you'll want to skip them. You'll know when they're coming.

Socrates: A Man for our Times by Paul Johnson.
The latest by our long-lasting, conservative British historian who tends to name-drop whenever possible. A great read, and just the right length, though about 40 pages toward the beginning are long-winded and could have been a little more relevant. By the end you'll be enthralled by the man (Socrates, that is) and will wonder how you ever got along without reading such a great analysis of his influence.

Though I think Johnson has succumbed to the Tolkien Effect. This is the simple problem of elderly British academics reaching such monolithic proportions as to be considered untouchable by editors, to their (and their readers') detriment. No one (and I repeat, no one) is above the need for a good editor--even Moses was edited before final publication for goodness sake! Anyone who insists on using the word "obfuscate" instead of simply saying "darkened" or "clouded" is drowning in their own pit of irony.

Creators, Intellectuals, and Heroes all by Paul Johnson.
Three other books by the above author. Heroes was the best of the three and the one I was able to finish while the other two were more of the same and not enough to keep me nibbling. Each book is a list of people who fit his definition of creators, intellectuals or heroes respectively and while there aren't many surprises (his list of heroes includes Abraham Lincoln and George Washington, to which I say in all kindness: "D'uh.") there are a few that I just can't reconcile with my personal definition of heroism. Sorry, I just can't call Julius Caesar heroic. The man killed something like 4 million people in his conquest of Gaul and chasing personal glory. I'm just not seeing the hero thing in that.

So I'm not recommending these three but Napoleon and History of the American People are fabulous. Spend your time on those instead.

The Carolinian by Samuel Shellabarger.
My little digression into historical fiction which I love so much. Not one of his better books--it's about a South Carolinian pre-revolutionary aristocrat who weaves his way rather tediously through British and colonial intrigues despite the best efforts of his wife to cause him difficulties. For some reason Shellabarger always has a female in his stories, giving the hero all sorts of grief because she's just some silly female who can't possibly understand the greater picture that the hero is trying to achieve. For once I'd like to see one of his heroines save the hero because he's the foolish one and she's the one who gets it.

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert M. Pirsig
Interesting and philosophical (as you'd expect from the title) and definitely worth a read. The author takes a cross-country motorcycle trip with his young son who has all sorts of interesting issues and the story builds up around the father's acceptance and understanding of what hand he's been dealt in life.

Here's Looking at Euclid by Alex Bellos.
This gets the award for the best title for a book. Ever. I just finished it and would recommend it to anyone who will listen. What else can you say about a book that has a Chapter Zero? I think that pretty much says it all--but then I'll always try to say more, won't I? It's a series of essays covering the ways math relates to us, our world and our imperfect human understanding of that world. Yes you get into mathematical theory but it's easy to understand (generally) and some parts will blow your mind. Origami, gambling, the golden mean, vedic mathematics, menger sponges--it's all there for your enjoyment.

Barbarians by Terry Jones.
Yes, as in that Terry Jones (the one from Monty Python). He's not exactly an historian, as best as I can tell he's just a guy who loves history and makes it fun and interesting. He's had several History Channel series and I think this book is a companion volume to one of them but I love how he takes an unconventional approach to history. Whatever story we've come to accept as true he will turn on its head and show how once again, it's been manipulated by those who survived to write it down. History truly is written by the conquerors and while I don't know that I accept Mr. Jones' story any more than what I was taught in school, I do love having something to think about and reconsider. Oh, and this book examines the peoples conquered by the Roman Empire and debunks the idea that they were dirty, stinking, illiterate barbarians without any culture worth preserving. A good read, though it slows toward the end.

And next on my list? I just started Cleopatra's Nose: Essays on the Unexpected by Daniel Boorstin, then I've got scheduled The Royal Road to Romance by Richard Halliburton followed by The Disappearing Spoon and Other True Tales of Madness, Love and History from the World of the Periodic Table of Elements by Sam Kean (which I can't wait to read, it's come highly recommended).

If this isn't enough for you I'll leave you with a couple other things: I made this pie and it was the most amazing chocolate pie experience ever. A truffle in a crust if you will. It could not be easier to make with only a handful of ingredients and it works with all kinds of crusts. Just partially bake a crust for 10-15 minutes first before filling if you want to use a regular pastry crust instead of graham crackers.

And then I read that if you have stainless steel appliances, especially brushed nickel or stainless steel, then using a little WD-40 on a cloth to wipe them down will not only clean them up but help them resist spotting and fingerprints. It is absolutely true and I don't know how I have lived this long without this trick. It is amazing.

So that's it for now. Goodbye for a while. I'm back to work on Monday and while I may have time to pop in over the next four months, I'm guessing I'll be swamped till spring. Hope your new year is terrific!

Talkeetna, Alaska--the Top of the World

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Tue, 16 Aug 2011 18:42:00 +0000

Long time, no see? Well today--most glorious of days--is the First Day of School which means I have time to take a shower without being interrupted. I can finally eat breakfast sitting down and possibly find some time to do a bit of writing here and there.

We've had a nice summer--Grace worked for the Parks and Rec department again. She now has a motor scooter (I should post pictures) and I even have a new nephew.

The men took a 50+ mile kayak trip on Lake Louise, they also hiked to Gull Rock and I've been reading lots of great books while they're out sleeping in their tents. And today--officially--Grace is a senior, Spencer a freshman, David hits middle school and Lillian is in fourth grade. Zowee! Time flies!

In celebration of the event we spent Sunday night at my parents' cabin and Monday morning we drove into Talkeetna--that coolest of cool Alaskan cities where climbers start their journey up Denali.

There are probably more airplanes in town than cars--in fact, I'd be willing to bet money on it--because that's where people go to either take flight tours of the mountain or to fly to base camp for the climb.

Did you realize that Denali (Mt. McKinley) is not only the tallest mountain in North America but it is also taller than Everest? At least in overall height. Everest sits in its boosted grandeur on the Tibetan plateau so it's got a cheater advantage. Denali is taller from base to summit and has a bigger bulk. Take that Tibet.

We started our day with a hike around Y Lake--which is, of course, in between X and Z Lakes. As if you had to ask. And no, I'm not making that up. Andrew and I went to Talkeenta for our anniversary back in June (happy 19 years!) and we read up on the hikes that might be good for a family trip and this one was at the top of the list for a good reason.

It's an easy 3 mile hike around the lake, completely flat at the beginning and at the end, with a slight rise around the far side, but beautifully wooded with lake views as you clump along. Not only that, but we brought our buckets and picked high bush cranberries along the way which were in such abundance that the kids of course began to throw them at each other and I finally had to break it up with a "If I catch you throwing any more of those at your brother I'm going to leave you here to walk back to Anchorage! Do you hear me? Do you?"

To get there take the Parks Highway to Talkeetna Spurr Road, then take a right on Comsat Road and you'll see the turnoff and parking a hundred yards or so farther on the right. There are outhouses and a small parking lot though you can also drive a little farther in along the trail if you need to.

Beaver dams, moose tracks (though we saw no moose), lots of birds and sunshine--we had all the elements for a great hike. And for those of you interested in trying it for yourself, there are two docks with public use canoes--one on either side of the lake--so bring your paddles and PFDs and enjoy time on the water as well.

Once we'd made it around the lake with our berries in tact we headed toward town. Back on Talkeenta Spurr Road heading north you come around a bend in the road and there . . . BAM!!!!

You see it--The Mountain.

Of course on a clear day you can see Denali from Anchorage, but you forget how big it really is and 100 miles closer it is truly amazing. Denali is the one in the middle and to the left is Mt. Foraker, also an amazing peak. In fact, it's hard for me to think much about mountains like Ranier and such when you've got gals like these nearby. I hope that doesn't sound too snotty because I'm sure those other mountains are very nice too. Very.

There is a turnoff just there at the bend where you can pull off and take pictures (as you see here--and even on a Monday afternoon in August you can see that there are going to be tourists--and this picture only has a few of those who were there). Andrew let me grab a picture for you good folks and then we were off again.

We drove on into Talkeetna proper, parking downtown (heh--"downtown") which is made up of a park slightly smaller than a football field with a covered picnic area and a few picnic benches and about 20 parking spots around the perimeter. One hundred yards or so down main street we stopped for lunch at Mile High Pizza for a gorgeous lunch on the covered terrace where live music serenaded us while we munched great food. It really could not have been a better afternoon.

You can definitely tell who is local and who is from out of town. Out of town? Look for older, graying, slightly portly (isn't that the nice way to put it?), windbreakers and camera equipment. Local? That would be those with tie-dye t-shirts, dreadlocks, dusty flip flops and a general air of waiting until September to worry about a shower. Although, in my post-hiking condition you can probably see how a casual observer might wonder about my own most recent attempt at personal hygiene. I'm just trying to fit in and hang with the locals.

Anyone with expensive sunglasses? Tourist for sure. Anyone on a four wheeler? Definitely a local. You get your fishing guides, your restaurant workers and the summer employees with Princess cruises and the Alaska Railroad there and everyone is really friendly, especially considering that their town gets completed invaded every June to August with retirees who have dreamed of seeing Alaska. You really couldn't get a greater difference between natives and visitors than you get in Talkeetna.

But as for us, we packaged our leftover pizza and headed for the river where we could walk across the bridge (dodging locals on four-wheelers carrying supplies to their cabins in the back woods) and watch the fishing boats go up and down the river.

A very, very good day and for the kids it nearly made up for the fact that the next day was school.

Wow--now I'll have to see about writing another post. Who knows where this could end?

Barbecue Soup

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Mon, 06 Jun 2011 08:00:00 +0000

My mom came back from a trip to the Outer Banks last month, raving about some soup she'd had there. Apparently it was good enough to warrant a scouring of the internet for the recipe that could copy such gastronomical bliss, and (lucky for me) she was successful.

Listed as "Get a Husband Stew," it makes the prodigious claim of being the soup with the power to change your marital status. That, sir, is no small boast. And if that wasn't enough to rouse my interest, Mom said that while she didn't get any more husbands after fixing this soup, it certainly did delight and thrill the husband she had already acquired.

She dubbed it "Barbecue Soup"--maybe on account of not wanting any more husbands--and she changed the recipe a bit from what she pulled off the web and then when I copied it from her I did things ever-so-slightly different. Please feel free to make any changes you see fit, though I can't guarantee the husband-attracting effects if you deviate from what I've got below:

3 tablespoons olive oil
1 pound ground pork
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 cup diced sweet onions
4 stalks celery, finely diced
1 cooked rotisserie chicken
3 14-ounce cans of petite diced tomatoes
4 cups water
1 cup ketchup
1/2 cup hickory smoked barbecue sauce
dash of tabasco sauce
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon Kosher salt
1 green bell pepper, diced
1 10-ounce bag of frozen corn kernels
4 potatoes, diced
2 bay leaves

Saute the ground pork in the olive oil, breaking up the meat with a spoon until it's browned and cooked through. Add the garlic, diced onion and celery (which I dice very small because I can't stand big hunks of celery. It's a thing with me) and continue to saute over a medium heat, cooking until the onions are soft and translucent.

While that's cooking, remove the skin from the chicken (heh, as if we're counting calories or something) and shred the meat. Add it, along with the cans of diced tomatoes, water, ketchup, barbecue sauce, hot sauce, salt, pepper, bell pepper, corn, potatoes and bay leaves and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and let it simmer until the potatoes are done, about 20 minutes.

Go ahead and adjust the salt, pepper and hot sauce if needed--and I'll warn you, it's very thick. The original recipe called for 1 cup of water but it's easier to keep things from burning if there's more liquid in there and I like things soupier as it is. It's great with a side of biscuits. Or really anything--you could serve raw squid eyeballs on the side and it would still be a fabulous soup!

Batter Up

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Thu, 02 Jun 2011 19:54:00 +0000

I am taking a solemn pledge here today. Never, ever, EVER again will my children play team sports. Or at least not through city teams and leagues--and I mean it. Go ahead and call me the Scrooge of little league but after what I've been through the past month even a beating with a baseball bat would be welcome relief.

Well, maybe I'm exaggerating a little bit but I can't count how many times Andrew and I have shaken our heads this past month and said, "How do parents do it? Are they all completely insane? And why was it we joined their ranks?"

Oh yes, it was because we wanted to be good parents, wanted to bring joy into the life of our little Little Leaguer but all it's done is beleaguer the whole family. I think it started when David, years ago, decided he liked baseball and since we're all about physical fitness, fun times and the enjoyment of a good game I signed David up with the local team. I remember how he had a lot of games and a lot of practices, and I vaguely remember thinking, "Wow, it's really, really cold sitting here on these fanny-freezing aluminum bleachers in the Alaskan rain" but somehow I figured it was all worth it. Starting with childbirth itself we're conditioned to make sacrifices for our kids and if sacrificing means sitting at the park every night for six weeks during our few precious days of summer, maybe missing a date or two or seven with my husband, and forking out enough money to purchase a small tropical island then dogone it I was going to do it because I loved my kid and I was going to be a great mom.

Now, two years later, we signed him up again. Partly because he wanted to play again but mostly because I haven't got a full-sized brain, having forgot how it was before, and I have been regretting it ever since. He's old enough now to be on the major league team which means even more practices and more games and a louder, more aggressive coach who sends me exactly 275 emails each day, listing times and events and fundraisers and carnivals and cleanups and practices and then--oops--new times because the previous email was accidentally, completely wrong and you need to be at the field half an hour earlier than what has been drilled into your skull in the last 274 emails.

It's all got me rethinking why we do it. Why do we even put up with the system of kids sports? Not to eulogize the golden age of the pick-up game at the neighborhood sandlot but, seriously, what kind of a monster have we created??

Kids have so few ways to express their independence and getting together to play a game of ball was one of the few ways they could get out from the world of adult rules and set their own boundaries. They decided what to play, they decided who was on which team, they decided on the equipment (if they had any at all), and on the team name and play schedule.

But now? It's completely taken over by adults who sign them up, coach them, drive them, and then attend each game more religiously than anything connected with church. We've taken every bit of the decision-making process away from them and I'm not seeing any significant improvements except maybe some very snappy (and very expensive) uniforms. A while ago I watched a group of boys get together to play a game--they stood around, looking rather lost, not knowing what to play or how to start. Each suggested playing whatever sport it was they played at night but because there was no adult to be umpire/ref they couldn't really come to a decision and eventually they kind of wandered away and gave up--they had forgotten how to play by themselves. It was truly pathetic.

Instead of kids getting together to run the show and enjoy the game on their own we let them know how and when they're going to play, what the rules are, how they'll dress and there has to be a trophy at the end. Sometimes we'll even yell and scream from the sidelines, showing shocking displays of unsportsmanlike conduct in case the crucial point of having them play brilliantly, bringing honor to our names, is somehow overlooked.

And then there's the other lesson it teaches children: that they're the most important thing in the world. David's baseball schedule has completely and irrevocably controlled our family's life this past month. Family dinners? Gone--David has to be at practice early. Family nights together? Postponed until after baseball season ends. Date nights with my husband? Let's just say the highest form of romance we've experienced lately is a space blanket and pocketful of Skittles while praying that the inning goes quickly. It's a constant measuring of priorities: which is more important? Baseball or scouts? Baseball or his sister's birthday? Baseball or the church service project? And it's too easy to let baseball always win.

It's just not good for one person in a family to absorb that much of the time and resources of the rest of the group. Not good for the individual who becomes the sole consumer and not good for the others who spend all their energy on the one, often neglecting the needs of the group. All it does is reinforce the idea of winning at any cost--which may be part of the reason doping and game-rage parenting are popping up all over.

And the sad reality is, that the whole thing has become a zero-sum game. You have to act like some Soviet-era official, entering your child in a sport as soon as they can walk, if you're going to do sports at all. Gone are the days when a child can, in high school, decide to try a new sport and go out for the team. If they haven't been doing the clinics and seasons all along, chances are they won't be able to make it against those who have--you know, the kids living with the odd phenomenon of juvenile sports injuries and end up needing hip replacements by the time they're forty.

So what's the answer? Well we've taken the approach of discouraging our kids' participation in team sports, period. Starting right now. Individual sports such as cross-country running or skiing, swimming, etc. are much easier to deal with as a family, don't require years and years of childhood training for participation and are usually more helpful in promoting a lifetime of good physical fitness.

But still . . . it bothers me that instead of giving our children good experiences and opportunities from sports, we've succeeded in producing a system that puts the individual before the group, teaches kids to leave life up to the adults, and gives a whole generation of kids the idea that success in life is found on the court or field. If we took all the money we flood into the kiddy-sports league industry and instead got together to bring back the neighborhood sandlots--then had the guts to walk away and say, "There's your field--now go outside and play" I wonder what the consequences would be? I don't know for sure but I have the sneaky suspicion that it would be a lot easier for me to teach responsibility, independence and teamwork if we adults weren't constantly standing at the sidelines, calling every shot.

World's Easiest Dessert, I Promise.

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Sun, 29 May 2011 02:57:00 +0000

Long time, no see? Thanks again for the emails--it's really nice to know that if I ever went truly missing that you'd all send out the Navy Seals to come find me. Makes me feel appreciated!

I have another post in the works for later this week but for now I thought I'd share with you the excitement I'm feeling over discovering the world's easiest dessert. I know that's so hyperbolic but truly it is the easiest--just you wait and see.

It comes from Apartment Therapy's Kitchn Blog which I faithfully follow and it's banana ice cream with only one--count it one--ingredient. Bananas. Yup, bananas and only bananas.

All you do is freeze some bananas (they were on sale this week so I grabbed a dozen or so and popped them directly into the freezer) then peel them (that's important). Then puree them into ice cream in your food processor until they're the proper consistency--something similar to soft serve ice cream which you can then let ripen in the freezer if you want it more like the hard packed stuff.

A couple of tips:
1. I froze mine with the skins on which worked fined, it kept them from tasting like freezer, but it's hard to peel a frozen banana the way you would an unfrozen one. Just clip off the top and tail a bit, slice it crosswise in half, then slice each remaining half again lengthwise. They're pretty easy to peel that way, you'll just freeze your fingers a bit.

2. It's particularly good with homemade hot fudge sauce and a dab of whipped cream on top--it's so creamy and fresh tasting. And did I mention healthy? So healthy. Your mouths will rejoice.

And lest you think I've been doing nothing at all around here, this is my proof that I haven't been a complete slacker. My garden is coming up nicely in front as you can see--love those columbine and daffodils. I'm afraid I haven't been as diligent on the computer as I used to be, there have been so many other things that have seemed to occupy my attentions lately--more on those later.

I've been reading--The Night Attila Died by Michael Babcock which was completely fascinating. Of course it went into the history of Attila but from a completely different angle. Babcock is a philologist, or one who studies the history, forms and meaning of language and while the common thought is that Attila died of a hemorrhage on his wedding night (one of many wedding nights I'd add), Babcock reconstructs the historical records linguistically to put up a case for his murder. It's Sherlock Holmes meets Henry Higgins meets CSI. Only without any singing or dancing of course.

Then I followed that up with Round the Bend by Nevil Shute who is one of my favorite authors. If you haven't read A Town Like Alice drop everything and go read it--though honestly, I do think Requiem for a Wren (also published as The Breaking Wave) is even better. It's a novel about a British man after World War II who goes to the Persian Gulf to start up an airfreight business and his relationship with the man he's known since his teen years who is the zen-master of airplane maintenance.

Hard to describe but Shute's characters and stories are always wonderful and this one has a bit of religion and philosophy that get you thinking. It's not what you'd call a churchy book--not at all--but it's a book about religion and what that means in relation to our lives and livelihoods and place in the world. Five stars.

And finally, next week I'll be a guest on the local radio program "Kids These Days" with Lenore Skenazy, author of Free-Range Kids talking about helicopter parenting. At least we're taping the show next week, I'm not sure when it will air--I'll have to update this when I learn more. It ought to be fun, I'm sure I'm bound to shock a least a few with my dangerous parenting antics like letting my children play with chainsaws and all that (you know I'm kidding, right?) See you there!

My Thumbing Is Greening As We Speak

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 19:00:00 +0000

I'm getting SO ready for spring. Usually the pattern is as follows: I hate the thought of spring cleaning, then I despise the idea, then I wonder if maybe I can just ignore it this year (who but me will care anyway?) then one day I wake up and it's sunny and beautiful and 50 degrees and it hits me. I go for the bucket and rags and I'm off on a germ-killing spree. Room by room for about ten days until I have one beautifully clean house.

I just wish I could take each of you on a personal tour of my dust-free corners. I'd point out the previously filthy yet now pristine shelves in the kids' rooms, I'd beg you to inspect my light fixtures and under my dust-free bed. I'd even offer you to join me for lunch in my gloriously clean kitchen.

Yes I'm aware that I'm not normal but I get my kicks where I can.

Anyway, Saturday after cleaning a room I went out and raked the yard, washed my windows and cleaned out the flower beds in the front (there's still too much snow in the back to tackle yet) and it thoroughly put me into the gardening mood.

I'm thinking of trying something new this year: raised vegetable gardens. In Anchorage it can be advantageous to have your vegetables in raised beds so that the soil warms faster and you can plant earlier than if it's in the flush garden beds. I'm considering making some beds now that the kids are older and need less grass in the back yard--I'll keep you posted.

But here are two great links I've seen recently that I think I'll also try. Above you see the indoor water gardens Martha made and then there is this amazingly clever idea for making terrariums--recycling old light fixtures. Genius.

And if plants aren't your thing I offer you an Easter treat: roasted peeps. I'm not a peep fan but I'm seriously thinking of buying up a crate of the bunnies and saving them for summer camping. I can only imagine how great the smores made with these guys would taste.

It's Your Fault, You Know

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Thu, 14 Apr 2011 19:02:00 +0000

Why I haven't posted this week (I mean). It's your fault because in my last post I asked for recommendations on good podcasts and got some wonderful tips. Which means, of course, that I have walked around plugged into my iPod all week long until my ears are starting to get a little sore. No, I'm serious.

I think I might need to take a break from it all, because last night I found myself simultaneously cooking dinner, listening to the piano practicing going on downstairs with one ear and then listening to a podcast with the other ear. The phone rang and when I went to answer it I'd forgot I had a podcast going and as I hurriedly answered I kind of jammed the ear bud into my brain with the phone receiver like some pneumatic drill on a rivet. It wasn't pretty. They should put a warning label on it or something.

So thank you--and curse you--for your great recommendations. At least I have two ears, right?

But I thought I'd at least share something that I found quite moving from one of the most recent listens. Thanks to Chocolate on My Cranium's recommendation that I listen to Conversations on the Mormon Channel, in between my history and science and NPR podcasts I heard an interview with Julie Beck who heads the women's organization for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It happens to be the largest women's organization in the world (and one of the oldest) and she's an amazing person. They interviewed her and her two adult daughters, Gerilyn Merrell and Heidi Shin, and they all spoke of their thoughts on motherhood and raising kids today and some of their own family experiences from years past. Here are a couple of the highlights as I've been able to transcribe them:

About her daughters and the role of a mother:

Julie: They came as they were . . . unique and wonderful and my blessing was to just unwrap the package, to see who they were and to help guide them to who they could be. I didn’t have to mold them or make them into someone different from who they were because they were so great when they came. It was a fun discovery to learn who they were.

On helping her children develop of a love of reading:

Julie: One of our favorite family activities when these children were growing up was Breakfast with Books. I just loved reading myself so I figured out a way to get my children to read and that was to get my children to bring a book to the breakfast table. I didn’t care if they dripped syrup on their books but we’d read. That was the usual Saturday morning breakfast, breakfast with books.

Gerilyn: I think I’ve been ruined, I don’t think I can eat without a book anymore. [Laughing] My father asked me once, “Why do you drink out from the side of your mouth?” I figured out it was because I could look at my book while I was doing it. So, it has created a few little problems but it’s a life long habit now. In fact, my husband calls it a Reading Dinner and occasionally he’ll ask us to bring our books to the table. I usually know it means he wants some peace and quiet at the table but everyone will run and get their books and bring them to the table and we will have a very quiet, peaceful meal.

On helping her children develop a love of music:

Julie: I needed a way to teach them to work. We didn’t have a big family, we didn’t have a big home to keep up, I knew they were bright people, they needed to learn a discipline—taking responsibility for something that was theirs to do every day. They needed to learn winning and losing, thinking, problem solving, relationship building and the bonus was that they also got a little music and got some talent and ability.

The motivator for me to keep me going through the hard days—and there were hard days, the children called it “combat piano”—was my grandmother, Duella Hamblin, who had a real love and aptitude for music. She didn’t have the opportunities my children had. I felt like they were the generation where the opportunity and the talent met and that I would be accountable to her if I let it go.

I just thought, some day Grandma would say, “Why did you give up so easy when I would have given anything for this chance?” So I’d think, “Well, I won’t give up easy. We’ll just keep at it.” And if you have a hard day, tomorrow’s a better day.

On how the family views children:

Gerilyn: Grandma Bangerter always said, “Children are people,” and that to me is a profound statement because it’s so easy to see children as their own subgroup that have no relation to people but she had a love for people and individuals . . . and we’ve learned that these people can be appreciated from when they’re born to when they die. . . . Grandma Bangerter knew every single grandchild and great-grandchild by name, by middle name, by birthday, by likes and dislikes because she doesn’t see them as a group, she sees them as people.

Heidi: Your relationship with your children changes when you look at them as people. They have feelings, they have emotions, they have needs and they have bad days and when you think about that and not just say, “Well, you’re acting up” and think of them as individuals who may be having a hard time it gives you perspective during a temper tantrum.

On her Grandmother's life:

Heidi: When I was in high school there was a project where I had to learn about my oldest living relative. My cousin picked my grandpa so I said, “Oh, I guess I’m stuck with Grandma” but I did this interview with her and the more I got to know her I was fascinated with her life. . . .

For instance, her story of heading down to Brazil [to work as a missionary] when she was nine months pregnant with my Aunt Peggy. They got there right as she was ready to have this baby and another family was still living in the mission home, so she was trying to settle her family, she didn’t speak the language. She was homesick—homesick—and she recounts this experience of looking out the window and the rain coming down on all the cloth diapers that she’d just hung on the line to dry and she said, “All I could see out there in the jungle was the mountains. All I could think about were the flea bites on the children, the rats in the yard that I couldn’t get rid of and the fact that I couldn’t speak the language, I couldn’t even go grocery shopping.”

“It looked bleak," she said, "I didn’t know how I was going to do it."

Then Grandpa came skipping into the room, totally excited that he was back in Brazil, and he said, "Isn’t this beautiful? Aren’t you excited to be here?"

She said, “Honey, I don’t see it. I don’t see what you’re seeing,”

And he said, pausing, “Well . . . we can either enjoy it now or we can come back to the United States in five years from now and laugh about these experiences and enjoy it then. So which way shall we do it? Shall we enjoy it now or enjoy it then?”

A lightbulb went off in her head and she said, “You’re right, I’m going to enjoy it now, today and laugh about my soggy diapers hanging out on the line and the fact that we have fleas.”

“You’re a smart woman," he said, "You can figure out all these things. You can find a way to fix the vacuum that’s broken. You’re a nurse, you’re can heal the flea bits on our children. You can find a way to get rid of these rats. I have every confidence in you.”

And that’s the kind of person she is. She takes difficult tasks and says, “Well, let’s just enjoy it now instead of laughing about it later.”

And on raising her own three children:

Julie: I wanted to raise people who would be my friends when I was old. That means we had to do some things when they were young that would build them into the people I would enjoy being with when I was older.

We had to teach manners--you have to be clean, you can’t be stupid, you have to have something in your head we can talk about. I wanted to be around thinkers when they were older and people who could laugh and enjoy life and do some fun things. That meant I had to be a parent when they were young so I could be their friend when they were older.

It is difficult to parent on a day-to-day basis with precision. You’re never perfect at it, it takes a lot of revelation and help to know how to get through a situation day by day and know the needs of a person--a unique person--who is developing and you don’t know who they really are inside and how to get that out but you’re working toward building somebody you want to know when they’re older.

If you can’t build those characteristics in them when they’re young then you won’t like them when they’re older.

Anyway . . . I enjoyed the interview and if you're interested in hearing the whole monstrously long 1 1/2 hours of it you can download the mp3 file here. They also have an interview with Stephanie and Christian Nielsen who you might remember were severely burned in a plane crash a couple years ago. Stephanie's blog has famously recounted their story and continuing recovery and though I haven't got to that interview yet I'm sure it's good too.

Anyone for Podcasts?

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 16:53:00 +0000

I've had an iPod for quite a few years now but only in the last year have I finally harnessed its full potential--I've discovered podcasts.

I am completely in love with these guys, leaving me to abandon local radio stations for good, and now whenever I'm riding my bike or driving in the car alone or doing my housework I'm plugged in and listening to all sorts of crazy-yet-compelling information.

This morning after dropping the kids off at school I listened to a short biography on Hedy Lamarr, an Austrian actress from the 1940s who was considered by some to be the most beautiful woman in the world (and if this photo is accurate I'd tend to buy into that assessment) but not only was she gorgeous she was an inventor that produced a system of frequency hopping for World War II weaponry that has since lead to what we call "spread system technology" and is used in security systems in everything from wireless routers to cell phones. Pretty and amazing.

Oh, and flaky too. But you'll have to listen for yourself--you can find her story on the "Stuff You Missed in History Class" podcast through the "How Stuff Works" website. They have something like 200 or so historical podcasts that are always interesting. I listened to one on Antoine de St. Exupery yesterday and then one on Livingston and Stanley and then one on Victoria Woodhull, the clairvoyant-turned-first-American-female-presidential-candidate. And if that description right there doesn't get you I have no hope for you.

The How Stuff Works site is great (as many of you know already) and I first started listening to the "Stuff You Should Know" podcasts hosted by Josh Clark and Chuck Bryant who are not only interesting but terribly funny. We still laugh about a line they had in the "Rules of War" podcast on scalping. And if they can make me laugh about scalping you know it's good. I've got the boys hooked on their podcasts too, they love Josh and Chuck and have been learning about everything from the Black Death to nuclear reactors to art theft. They're becoming little Cliff Clavens with all sorts of semi-useful information filing their brains.

So check out "Stuff You Missed in History Class" and "Stuff You Should Know" and then if you still have time I also enjoy NPR's "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me" and "Car Talk."

Are there any others you'd recommend?

Crossroads

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Mon, 28 Mar 2011 17:23:00 +0000

Okay, so you've heard me gripe from time to time about schools. In the back of mind there has always been the nagging thought, "So why don't you stop complaining and actually do something about it??" So I'm here to report (go ahead and laugh at me if you wish) that I'm getting ready to make a big jump.

I'm considering home schooling.

Of course I should be more specific--I don't typically "approve" (my, doesn't that sound so condescending?) of homeschooling. It's a fine idea in principle but my completely unscientific anecdotal studies have shown me that most people who attempt this amazing feat tend to produce inferior results. Don't get me wrong--I'm not condemning it outright, it's just that among all the billions of people I know who have tried to homeschool their kids I've only seen three--count them three--cases where I thought the experience a success.

More often I seen children who have a hard time socializing (though that's a horribly worn-out argument against homeschooling and I don't know that I buy it) who have a hard time with the basic educational requirements. In other words, they can't read. I have the occasional family that takes the money and runs, leaving junior to be the unpaid help in the family business rather than actually making the huge commitment that proper homeschooling takes.

Sigh. So I've been terribly suspicious of the whole idea. Then, on top of that I'm actually quite happy with the school system (speaking in broad generalities). The teachers my kids have had in elementary and middle school have been great--hats off to them. But ever since Grace hit high school there have been issues. She watches more tv at school than she does at home, she's had teachers openly flirting with female students, teachers who consistently show up 10-30 minutes late for class (and by "consistently" I mean pretty much every day), not to mention those that just don't bother to teach.

Then there's the curriculum. When I was in high school we read Shakespeare, Chaucer, Tolstoy, Hemingway, Steinbeck, Dickens, you name it. And then we wrote about it. Today she reads things like Jodi Picoult's 19 Minutes (about a Columbine-style school shooting). Her junior year she finally, actually and for the first time picked up anything close to a "classic" (Macbeth) and then instead of reading it they watched a graphic movie version. Don't get me wrong, Shakespeare it meant to be seen rather than read so I don't have a gripe with that per se, it's just the lack of discussion and analysis, the falling back on television as an entertainment rather than using it to actually teach.

There's nothing wrong with modern literature as long as you can prove to me that it can teach as well as that which was produced by the masters. And I'm just not thinking that Picoult can rival the greats at any level. Not in characterization, theme, literary tools or depth. Dumb English department.

So what does this mean folks? Well I've come to a parting of the ways, a crossroad if you will. Forget Grace, there's no hope for salvaging her senior year in the liberal arts, she's only taking a half-day next year anyway and she reads and studies enough on the side that she's doing fine with her own interest in education but Spencer? He'll be hitting ninth grade this fall and he's not someone who will pick up a book on his own to see what he's been missing in English class. I could supplement it all with my own reading requirements but his schedule doesn't permit extra work, we need to find ways to replace what isn't working with stuff that will meet his needs.

The plan is to sign him up with a homeschool program here in town then go back and sign up for the maximum number of three high school classes he's allowed to take. That will be his biology, geometry and Spanish and I should mention that I've had no gripes with the math and science teachers there; on the contrary, I've been impressed with their quality and strength of teaching, plus I don't feel I'm competent to teach those subjects anyway.

For his PE credits he can take extra curricular sports (which he'd do anyway) and then as he's interested in studying graphic design we'll get him local art lessons and from what I've been able to deduce, they're superior in every way to the classes at the school, especially in the areas he needs (drawing). That leaves history and English for me and between my own abilities and the online resources such as Williamsburg Academy I think we can get the job done. He could even take classes at the University here or BYU homestudy online. He's already proved to us that he can handle the discipline of online courses because he's just finished a series of online classes in Adobe Illustrator and has plans to next tackle Photoshop.

So what do you think? Am I crazy? My biggest concern is making sure he's getting what he needs to be able to test at the needed levels. I don't want him to get a year or two into things and then realize he's way behind and has no chance on the SAT or ACT. Boy that would be bad, wouldn't it?

Do you see any holes in this plan? Give it your best shot before we do something I'll later regret and irrevocably ruin my son's chances at an education.

***

And in related news--our friend Treg Taylor is running for the school board which I find gives me a great deal of hope. It's not that the whole system needs to be thrown out and remade but I think he's someone who can make some crucial changes to get things back on track. Good luck Treg!

We've Got Grass, People!

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Tue, 22 Mar 2011 16:44:00 +0000

Yes, it's official. I have grass showing in spots in my yard. You have no idea what that does to me.

In fact, it's got me dreaming of summer and warmer times to come which goes just fine with these posts on beauty tips:

How to cut bangs (I so needed this)
Tips for the French pedicure
And Caring for Your Heels (mine aren't quite that bad but I do need help)

And finally, this video just cracks me up. I keep wondering how the whole thing came about and it must have been that one of the guys saw the ad in the NY Times advertising the exhibit and thought, "Hey, that looks just like Jeff!" and so great comedy was born.

What cracks me up the most is the guy that stops them at the end--if he'd been smart he would have hired them right there on the spot. I can't think of a more brilliant publicity stunt than this. I would have gone to the museum that day just to see it all go down.

Retirement Should Be Retired

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 08:00:00 +0000

I love technology. I love science and engineering and all the beautiful things they've created from maps of our genes to particle accelerators to indoor plumbing and cable tv. When I think of the 76 billion people who have made their way through this world then consider how amazing it is to live in such a time it kind of scares me but what really scares me is how our technology and our abilities tend to outstrip our wisdom. We haven't quite figured out how we fit into this society we've created.

I've written about the new phenomenon of adolescence but as I've watched the fury of the political standoff between unions and bankrupt state governments it's occurred to me that my logic didn't go far enough--that while the 20th century created the extended childhood of the teen years it simultaneously created the other complimentary freak of nature: retirement.

In fact, I'd go so far as to say that there is very little difference between adolescence and retirement. Both are sociological oddities driven by a longer life expectancy, creating special classifications for the population complete with expectations and privileges (and backed by legislation to enforce those same privileges). Both are characterized by a general grumpiness and both serve very little purpose other than to expose the occupants to risk of laziness and deterioration if not properly navigated.

Yes, go ahead and tell me I'm the Wicked Witch of the West, I'm really okay with that but I look around at the problems that adolescence and retirement create and I shake my head.

Walk with me for a bit. . . .

I won't go back and re-explore the problems of adolescence, Mr. Gingrich has already done that admirably, but take a look at the modern retirement craze.

Where did it come from?
The only reason we have programs such as social security and medicare is because FDR took a gamble that people wouldn't live long enough to collect on the government's bounty. The average life expectancy was around 62 so to set a shelf at 65 seemed a safe bet. Your odds of living that long weren't so good but it planted the seed that there was something magical about 65 (which you can't argue with, if you'd got that far you'd beat the odds and deserved a fat party). It didn't take long for the idea to grow and suddenly corporations too looked at 65 as the time for people to be slipping out quietly and the concept of retirement was born. You had two options: you either died at your desk (a popular choice) or you left quietly to make room for someone else who wasn't as likely to suddenly drop dead on the way to the water cooler.

But as I said, technology is leaping and bounding ahead of us and people are living 20 and 30 years beyond what they were when retirement was born. We aren't playing the odds any more, we're being strangled by them and the ponzi scheme FDR created is coming back to haunt us the longer the population survives. Add to that the psychological issues of this archaic, man-made threshold: now we have this strange idea that come 65 everything is going to change and suddenly we'll be back to how it was when we were young (catch that allusion to adolescence? I'm hitting you over the head with it), without any problems or responsibilities. It will be better, actually, because now we'll have money from our pensions/social security/savings and lots of senior discounts at the movie theaters. And don't get me started on that whole "fixed" income preoccupation. Talk about redundancy. No one I know has unlimited resources--we ALL have fixed incomes--what we really get with retirement is a fat old sense of entitlement.

Entitlement Is a Form of Heart Disease
What on earth gives us the right, after millions of years of living and working and struggling for survival, to think that we suddenly deserve a rest? What makes us special from the generations before us that had to continue to earn their living and make themselves valuable to their fellow citizens right up until the day they died?

I think we've forgotten that first and foremost, work is not a punishment. It's a gift that allows us to find purpose and meaning for our lives and once we take that out of the equation we're not only worth less we're less happy. If you believe in God then you'll agree that work is also a commandment. "By the sweat of thy brow" and all that--I don't recall the Bible saying anything about "By the sweat of thy brow shalt thou labor . . . unless of course thou canst collect a sweet pension and finally get to all that fishing and traveling thou hast been dying to do, because really now--you deserve it." Or "thou hast deserved it." Whatever.

Purposeful Work, Not Vacations, Are the Cure
If nothing else, the idea of retirement is selfish to the core. No one beyond childhood who is mentally and physically capable should have a period of life where they expect to live off of someone else's efforts, be it through pensions, medicare or rich relations--I wouldn't allow my children to expect to live off of me once they were capable of providing for themselves and it's just as wrong for me to expect it of them (or of my government) when I'm still alive and kicking. Where is our self-reliance when we need it most?

If you can save up enough to be able to stop working then fine, go that route. Live long and prosper. But I don't know that even then you'll be happy. Most people I know who have been able to earn enough money to quit working have learned the psychological and physical benefits of work which is probably why we still see Bill Gates at the helm of Microsoft. The people I admire the most aren't the ones who are hanging out at the old fishing hole, they're the ones who have worked hard, collected wisdom and then find meaningful ways of helping others who are following behind. Just look at how many people did their best work after the age of 65 . . . Picasso . . . Winston Churchill . . . Moses . . . Sean Connery. Seems to me that I'd rather be the flame burning brightest at the end rather than the one that splutters out then sits around complaining about the weather and kids these days.

I'm blessed to live in a time when I can--assuming I take good care of myself--expect to live another 40 or 50 years. Not only can I expect I'll live long but, thanks to modern medicine, I can generally be free of pain and disease if my genetics are good to me. For me to assume that the last 20 or 30 years of my life are a freebie is not only selfish and wrong but a waste--the fewer years I have left, the more precious they are. What I do with them is more important than ever.

Where Am I?

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Wed, 16 Mar 2011 14:42:00 +0000

Let's see . . . where have I been? Well, most recently I've been scrambling for a last-minute prom dress. No, not for me silly. For Grace. The good news is that she's got a date but the bad news is that it cost me $20 in overnight shipping. And I mean that in the nicest, happiest-mom sort of way.

She has beautiful taste though--see her selection? It's a vintage 1950s dress from Etsy that will fit her perfectly (sigh . . . to have a figure that size again) and will go great with her strawberry-blond locks.

I've also been reading like crazy. A few books on ancient history (go ahead and ask me about the Sumerians--I'm all over it) then True Grit (loved the movie) and The Eagle of the Ninth (ditto) and now I'm working on a biography of Napoleon by Paul Johnson. If you're ever into history Paul Johnson is the way to go--I'm just hoping he gets his biography on Socrates finished before he . . . uh . . . shuffles off this mortal coil (he's about 105 I think).

The snow is showing signs that it may not be a permanent fixture so everyone is in good spirits. We ran up to the cabin during spring break last week to check out the snowmaching and enjoy the sunshine and got a bonus in a gorgeous display of the northern lights.

And I've been knitting. Finished this Rosebud cardigan from Berroco's free pattern stash and started on this adorable Carli ribbed cardigan from Cocoknits (which has the most beautiful sweater patterns). Love how you can adjust the button hole to different places, including no button then belt it.

Oh, and I've been consuming very large quantities of hot chocolate. Lots. Here are some new recipes that I've been meaning to try for the stuff:

Thick Hot Chocolate (i.e. "fondue for breakfast")
Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate
Peanut Butter Hot Chocolate

Or maybe I'll try baking:
Brownies in a Crockpot
Lemon Curd in the Microwave
Or Vanilla Pear Jam (doesn't that just sound amazing?)

The other thing I'm toying with is this quilt-block pattern creator where you can upload a photo and turn it into a quilt block pattern. I've uploaded a bunch of photos from our India trip last year (I've been feeling nostalgic as the anniversary of the trip has approached--we left a year ago today) and think that making a quilt top from the pixelated photos would be pretty darn cool. Whose with me?

Oh My Goodness I'm in Love

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Wed, 16 Feb 2011 04:36:00 +0000

Oh wow oh wow oh wow! I got a flyer in the mail advertising a boutique here in town that sells Oleana sweaters. I'd never heard of them before but the gorgeous photos on the card sent me hunting the web for more information.

And I have good news and bad news. First the good news: you can readily find places that sell these beautiful clothes.

And the bad news? They come from the little town of Bergen, Norway where they are produced and sold for what can only be an excrutiatingly high price. How high? Well I'm not sure except that it was reported that during Ms. Obama's last trip to the area she picked up several . . . you know? When her husband was tied up in Oslo with some little presentation or other?

In fact I have yet to find an actual price on any site I saw and that can only be a very, very bad indicator--kind of like a restaurant so fancy it doesn't print the prices on the menu? And under the theory that if you have to ask how much it costs you can't afford it, I'm guessing that I can't afford one but I can always hope, right?

Makes me wish I could knit better.

But as for things I can afford, I've been loving some finger-linkin' good country lately. Lucinda Williams' "Can't Let Go" and The Black Keys' "Howlin' for You" are mighty fine tunes. And actually, I've even been caught listening to Taylor Swift's latest album (that's the effects of having a teenage daughter around the house and totally not my fault). Check them out if you fancy some down home tunes

Happy Monday

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Mon, 14 Feb 2011 19:39:00 +0000

Well I saw this household tip a year or two ago and I'm not sure why I finally got around to trying it (maybe because I ran out of dryer sheets?) but it completely works like a charm.

Instead of dryer sheets, crumple a bit of aluminum foil into a four-inch ball and toss it in with your laundry to control static. You have my word that I tested it myself just this week and it really does work.

Of course it doesn't give you that wonderful fake-flower, manufactured-perfumy, sickly-heavy, synthetic smell like a dryer sheet does which is a down-side for those of you who love that scent (can you tell where I stand on the issue?) but then nothing is perfect.

And the best part is that it's reusable.

No need to send me flowers in appreciation, just knowing that your laundry is static-free and economical is thanks enough. Though I've always thought it would be nice to have someone name a child in my honor. . . .

And in unrelated news, this weekend Andrew and I saw The Eagle (mostly because it was the only thing that looked remotely interesting--there is so much junk in the theaters right now I don't know how the industry stays afloat) and it wasn't a bad movie at all--quite fun in fact.

We hadn't heard a thing about it before going to see it but it turns out that it's a movie version of the famous historical novel The Eagle of the Ninth by Rosemary Sutliffe that I coincidentally had just checked out of the library in an effort to interest the boys in manly fiction. They weren't interested because it was an "old-looking book" (sigh) but maybe after they see the movie they'll be more interested.

Taking place in 140 AD during the Roman conquest of Britain, it's the story of a young man (at least in the book he was young, this guy in the movie is closer to 35 than not which is practically at death's doorstep in Roman years) who arrives to avenge his family's honor. His father had lead a regiment of 5,000 men into the north 20 years before, never to be seen again (true story) and now Marcus Flavius Aquila is going to find out what happened and bring back the preciously symbolic brass eagle that the company had carried as a standard, because "It's not just a piece of metal, darn it, that eagle is Rome!"

Think of it as the greatest game of capture-the-flag ever played. Of course he needs a faithful sidekick so Jamie Bell plays Esca, his British slave with a definite chip on his shoulder and a lot of modern philosophical tripe about how evil expansionism and imperialism are (though as for myself, I'm pretty grateful for the Roman Empire which really did civilize a lot of the world and allow us to enjoy the fruits of all sorts of great things from our democratic republic to Christianity to pizza). Still, it's fun. Probably because it's one of the few movies I've seen lately that seems to realize that CGI and blue screens have their place in the movie industry but shouldn't be a replacement for actual drama.

See it for the heroic feats, see it for the beautiful scenery (please tell me it wasn't filmed in Toronto or Vancouver--I want to believe that it really was Scotland) or see it for the ferociously savage blue men that make you grateful the Romans were the victors in that little neighborhood skirmish. It's like Gladiator meets Braveheart, only cleaner (yes there are lots of battle scenes and talk of brutality but the actual blood and gore is done mostly out-of-shot) and I'd give it a solid B+.

If I've Learned Anything . . .

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Wed, 09 Feb 2011 18:13:00 +0000

I have loved reading all the comments, advice, questions and emails you've sent with your own thoughts about reaching middle-age and while I don't know that I've got a book's worth of information on the subject (give me another 20 years and a lot more wisdom) I'll give you a few tender tidbits of things I have I've learned.

Be Content
I remember the nights of getting up with the babies or the torture of potty training (I'd go through childbirth again twice over if I could avoid potty training) but I didn't appreciate what it was teaching me. Patience, organization, humility, perseverance . . . all things more valuable to my life than a degree or certificate but I tended to constantly think about how great things would be once I was onto something new.

But all that wiping and cleaning and teaching gives life a great deal of purpose--in fact, when people ask that question, "Why do so many bad things happen in the world?" I tend to think it's simply to give us all something to clean up. If everything was smooth-sailing we'd all be very bored. Trust me on this one.

Be Brave
When I was expecting my second child and felt as attractive and mobile as an air-craft carrier Andrew was going through law school (as in completely absent) and I was managing two 30-unit apartment buildings. I cleaned the empties and rented them out, managed the tenants, collected rent and generally did whatever it took to keep us afloat (again there's that boat metaphor). As my due date approached I decided to quit the job "because I couldn't possibly handle two children and a job."

And now I just laugh at that. Seriously . . . two kids and a job would seem like a vacation compared to what I was able to handle later on but parenthood is like any muscle: the more you exercise it the better and stronger it becomes until you're amazed at what you're able to handle.

What I'm trying to say is that it's perhaps unwise to base your decision on the size of your family on how you might feel at a particular given moment. I mean, if I based my decision on how many kids to have in those 15 minutes after delivering a child I'd have got my tubes tied right then and there. Think in the big picture, taking in the whole scene of what you want your complete life to be rather than during a particularly trying and hard day where you say, "I'm never having another because I can't handle any more." You may feel differently as your abilities (and your children) grow and you might find that you'd wished you'd prolonged your motherhood experience when it's too late.

Of course this is a very personal decision between you and your spouse and unique to every situation but human beings are pretty amazing creatures and most likely you're pretty amazing too and can handle more than you think you can.

Be Fair
There were lots of times when I dealt with household or children's issues and got a little resentful of my husband. After all, why wasn't he getting up with the babies at 2 am or having to deal with the messes I did? I was easy to look at whatever it was he was doing and expect him to do more of what I was doing but that wasn't at all fair.

Because we'd chosen the divide-and-conquer technique for family management where he supplied the income and I kept the house running I was wrong to expect him to pick up the slack on my job simply because he was home. Now don't get me wrong, he's a great guy whose philosophy is "let's all work until the job is done" but there were plenty of times when he'd come home exhausted from a long day at work and I'd inwardly resent him for not jumping up to take care of something I didn't want to do myself as if I were the only one working.

The honest reality is that our work was different and therefore our work hours were different. I might have had to get up with the babies in the middle of the night but then I also got long "lunch breaks" in the afternoons when kids were napping or at school. I might have had to be on the job until all the kids were asleep but then I could often grab quiet minutes here and there when he was still grinding away at the wheel in his office, desperate for a break. The older the kids got the more luxuries I had that he didn't get so to try and compare our jobs and demand that things be equal was completely unrealistic.

So here I am, 40 years old and facing retirement. My career as a mother (and again, I say "intensive mothering" because you're never absolved from your job as a mom) only has a few more years before I need to decide on a second career while he's got another 20 years of providing for the family and doing whatever it takes to keep the money coming while I can look at doing whatever it is my heart desires most. Of course this is all different if you're both responsible for income and the house but according to the way our family divided the labor it was impossible to try to make things completely equal and I wish I'd been less selfish here and there.

And this all just goes to make me wonder what lessons I'll have picked up by the time I'm 70?

My Own Little Mid-Life Crisis

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Mon, 07 Feb 2011 19:37:00 +0000

I was talking to a good friend of mine the other day and she said to me, "You know, you hear a lot about being a mom in those toddler years when you have kids. People give you plenty of advice about how to get through having little kids around but no one ever talks about what to do when your kids are leaving home."

And I completely agree. I have one more year with our family being all together--where we're all around the dinner table laughing and quoting movies and I have to tell someone to eat their peppers and someone else to use their napkin and someone else to chew with their mouth closed. I remember thinking that the years where they were in high chairs and I was constantly cutting up their meat or cleaning up spilled milk would last for eternity but in reality I've got more years of life without children than with children.

Do I sound nostalgic? Maybe even a bit overly sentimental?

I appreciate all the emails and questions and concerns about where I have been lately and I guess the easiest explanation is that I'm going through an enormous midlife crisis. Not really a crisis where I'm looking for a sports car and a trophy spouse--wouldn't that just shake things up?--just a point where I've been sitting and thinking and wondering what in the world I'm going to do with my life for the next 20 years.

Maybe I'll back up . . . Andrew and I are of a similar temperament where we are driven, focused, goal-oriented, organized, get-things-done-right-now kind of people. We married at 22, had kids within 2 years, got through law school, paid off the loans, got into a house, pumped out a few more kids and never took our eyes off the goal because that was what responsible people did and it served us well, more or less. I'm glad we got through school without lingering and I'm glad we had our children young.

But now I've been a mom for over 17 years and I'm facing the hard fact that my intensive mothering days are drawing to a close. I have one more year of Grace at home and in seven years all the kids will have left. Even now I drop the kids off at school at eight o'clock then have six more hours of staring at my already clean and organized house wondering, "Okay . . . now what??"

I spent so much time looking ahead and thinking about getting things done and done quickly that I've suddenly been pulled to a stop and feel a bit lost. All those years when I looked ahead and thought, "Wow, won't it be nice when the kids are older and Andrew and I have lots of time together? Won't that be nice? Won't I be sooooo happy?" Well here I am, my kids in school most of the day and my husband is charging ahead with still another 20 years of productivity and career goals ahead of him and I need to decide how I'm going to fill my time.

I suppose I could go back to school and that has a certain appeal but seriously--I've been to enough school to know that sitting in a classroom and watching a teacher is both expensive and dependent on how good the teacher is. And do I really need another degree so I can prove to everyone else that I'm smart? I could get the same information from our library and the internet if more education is what I really wanted. So what do I want? I haven't a clue.

I could get a job--that's what other women do--but it seems so pointless. It certainly isn't as important as my job as a wife and mother. There is no job I could find that I would love as much as the job I've had and if I've learned anything after 14 months of unemployment I've learned how little stuff I need to be content so the money isn't a temptation.

I could focus on hobbies: painting, writing, blogging, knitting, whatever. Okay, sure. But again, I don't need success in a hobby to prove to myself that I'm good at something or that my life has meaning though at least having a job or a hobby would be productive. I want to be a producer, not merely a consumer.

I could do volunteer work and that has an appeal but it would depend on what kind of volunteering it was. Hanging out at the kids' school seems pretty pointless--there are already many capable, paid professionals in charge and plenty of extraneous parents hanging around as it is. If I volunteered somewhere it would have to be something that really helped those who were in need. The Peace Corps?

So here I sit, wondering what to do and laughing at myself for all those years of hurrying and looking ahead in naivete, thinking that life would just be perfect once I had time to myself. I have all the time to myself that I could want and now I want something else: goals. Where are all the books and manuals on how to get through your 40's and 50's? I've seen millions of books with advice on how to get you through those take-off years of work and school and early parenting but everyone is strangely silent on what to do once you've reached cruising altitude. I just can't sit back for the next 20 years on auto-pilot.

Winter Time Beading

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Wed, 19 Jan 2011 17:57:00 +0000

I've been given quite a few craft books to review and some of them are quite good but this one (Stringing Style 2) is great. In fact, of all the other bead and jewelry making books I've got this one is the best and to prove it here's the necklace I made from its pages.
It's a bunch of green and green-brown pearls with greeny-brownish crystals strung between curved silver beads to make it look like a grapevine and I love it.

Here's a shot of it that isn't quite so subtly blurry (you didn't know that was a haute-couture photography technique did you? Well it is. Kind of).

The trickiest part is getting those curved beads because they didn't have any on hand here in town. Etsy is a great resource for that kind of thing.

Mine were slightly longer than the ones the book called for so I only needed 21 instead of 23 but you get the general idea.

Oh, and P.S. it seems to be warming up a bit. Maybe Spencer will get to have his ski meet after all.

And as for other artistic endeavors, here's a video I saw this morning that was not only interesting but fun to watch. I love new animation techniques--I think if I could have had my high school experience animated I would have retained a great deal more of the information.

Deep into January

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Tue, 18 Jan 2011 18:43:00 +0000

As I sit here at the computer I can hear the grinding groan of the snow ploughs in the street--the snow has been piled up deep enough on the sides of the road that it's making it hard to get around so the ploughs come along, scrape the snow from the sides into one big three-foot berm down the middle of the road, then a front-end loader comes along and scoops up the row of snow into the waiting dump truck.

They haul it off and dump it in spots around town, creating ramps of snow up the sides of the piles for the dump trucks to crawl up and unload, until the mountains grow so high they're as big as three-story buildings. As spring comes they melt and all the dirt mixed into the snow remains behind, settling on top until the piles look like mountains of gravel and you'd never guess that under that gigantic mass there is enough snow to cover the state of Rhode Island (which isn't much of an exaggeration--there are glaciers around here that could easily cover the place). The last of the piles finally melt some time around the end of June.

I just took this picture out of the front window and it's about 10 o'clock here--still dusky and dim but clear and cold. My thermometer is reading -3 degrees and Spencer is concerned about his ski meet tomorrow. He's concerned two ways: unless things warm up to -1 they'll cancel the race. It's the first meet of the season and he's ready to get out there so he doesn't want it scrapped but the thought of skiing in -1 is a bit more than he wants to tackle. Either way, canceled race or not, he's going to have a tough time of it.

January is hitting hard. We're in a cold snap and it's so dark and deep that I'm wondering why I ever decided to live here. My toes and fingers are perpetual icicles and I sleep with five blankets on the bed. I've put off going out to the mailbox for four days now--and when I finally went out this morning the box was covered with an inch of standing crystals and my finger froze to the metal when I lifted the lid. And as I was driving home yesterday the sun caught the ice crystals suspended in the frigid air and treated them just as if they were raindrops, making a shimmering, disturbingly cold rainbow of ice in the air above me.

But I've been promised by reputable sources that things should get better. We gained 4 minutes, 32 seconds of daylight over yesterday and January is the low point in the season--it's all downhill from here and if I can only make it to April I'll be home free.

Meanwhile, I've got my flowers inside and enough hot chocolate to last to spring. If I can only remember to think warm thoughts.

Some Biographies for the New Year

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Wed, 12 Jan 2011 18:30:00 +0000

So are you exercising and getting in shape? Last fall I bought a second hand stationery bike (or is it stationary? I can't remember the difference between the two and it makes the difference between a bike that doesn't move and a bike you write on) to strengthen my knee and I kind of got hooked on it. I love being able to read while I'm riding (but not writing--that would definitely be a stationary bike) and I've found that I'm 86% more likely to exercise if I've got a good book to read.

My sister gave me an audio copy of A Treasury of Foolishly Forgotten Americans: Pirates, Skinflints, Patriots and Other Colorful Characters Stuck in the Footnotes of History by Michael Farquhar (an editor at the Washington Post, not the villain in Shrek, as at first I thought) and it got me through many miles. It's not exactly history from the David McCoullough-style professorial heaviness but darn it, I liked it.

Each of the short chapters is dedicated to a different character--the kind so interesting and freakishly bizarre as to make Sarah Palin, Howard Stern, Paris Hilton, Dennis Rodman and the Unibomber look calm and well-adjusted--with the only rule being that they must be relatively unknown and unlauded and all the while proving, once again, that the 20th century does not have a monopoly on crazy.

Politicians, thieves, pirates, would-be royalty, they're all there and ready for your amusement and guaranteed to keep you riding an extra mile on your bike as if you were lingering in front of the tabloids at the supermarket check-out line. And better than the tabloids, with this book you actually get a dose of real history in there along with the entertainment. It wouldn't be a bad way to introduce kids (I'm thinking preteens and older) to some of the more interesting parts of our national history and get them to learn a little something along the way.

The other audio book I listened to was 10 Days in a Madhouse by Nellie Bly (which you can get for free various places online).

One of the first female reporters, Nellie Bly--along with her editor--contrived to get herself commited to an asylum for the insane in turn-of-the-century New York City. Forget that she was a woman and unused to such things or that asylums weren't quite what they are today or that if it was such a good idea why didn't her editor take the assignment himself--as you listen to her story in her own words you can't help but be impressed with her bravery and spirit. (Though I think she had to be a bit crazy to get herself thrown in there with only her editor's word that he'd be able to get her released after ten days were up.)

Bly did it to report on the condition of the mentally ill and does so with vivid and honest reports which were eventually helpful in bringing needed reforms and improved living conditions for those who couldn't help themselves.

Bly's experiences on Blackwell's Island among the female inmates was serialized in The World but as it aroused so much interest, controversy and disgust she received many requests to produce her story in one contained volume. The result is a short read (about six or seven hours of listening) that follows her from the idea's inception, through her commitment and time in the justice system, through her time in custody and finally to her release.

The narrative is old-fashioned and stilted but that doesn't diminish the story or Bly's bravery. Not only is it a sad record of the plight of the insane but a startling reminder of how far women's rights have come in the intervening years. A good lesson in sociology and history as well as a good read for the sake of a story.

A Plethora of Good News

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Tue, 11 Jan 2011 19:04:00 +0000

Can you tell I'm happy? Last week was filled with check ups and doctor visits, mostly routine stuff for the kids, except that I finally got back to the surgeon after so many months of knee exercises.

If you recall, when I saw him last summer after my knee injury he'd sent me to the physical therapist, preparatory to surgery on my ACL and meniscus. I was rather depressed about the whole thing and since then when I haven't been whining about the prospect of being chopped up in major surgery I've been on the stationary bike or doing lunges to try and avoid what seemed to be the inevitable conclusion to my sad, mid-life story.

Meanwhile Andrew began skiing again, taking Spencer and David and Grace instead of me and I was quite bitter about it all but last week I went back to the doctor to see how things had come along and if I were finally ready for surgery. I was not-so-secretly hoping he'd say it was a miracle and that I was cured.

Which is exactly what he said. He twisted and poked and pressed and came to the conclusion that my joint and ligaments were fine and that I was free to ski whenever I chose.

WOOOHOOO!

Of course Grace will be the disappointed one because she's been using my skis while I've been out of commission. Now I want them back, thank you very much.

It was a fine conclusion to a medically-charged week. In honor, I knitted a brand-new ski hat as you see here which David promptly coveted and asked me to duplicate for him--but without the girly colors and "weird stripe things" around it.

We've also been sewing doll clothes for Lillian's new doll, Marian, which she got for Christmas, and I've been trying to get up the interest in ever cooking again after all that holiday baking and gorging. I'm sure I'll make a real dinner again. Maybe.

In other happy news, thank you to Inc. Magazine for the interview and article they did about working from home that featured Scribbit. Andrew's comment was (and said with a bit of amazement), "But I actually read Inc." (as opposed to other places I've been mentioned that he doesn't read?? I'm flattered). And also thank you to Apartment Therapy for the post on my blueberry soup recipe. That's a great recipe--perfect for when you've got a day of skiing.

Woohoo!

World's BEST Potato Salad with Comeback Sauce

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Sun, 09 Jan 2011 09:00:00 +0000

I know this isn't exactly a Weight Watchers delight and would probably best be posted in the summer (because isn't that the proper time to be enjoying potato salad?) but honestly, this is the BEST potato salad that will ever bless your tastebuds. The word "bless" is not an understatement.

I saw the recipe on Prissy Green and her superlatives intrigued me. I printed it off and set it aside, wondering if it possibly could be a recipe great enough to induce my husband to eat potato salad. Let's just say he's not a fan.

Anyway, along came our yearly family Christmas party, where the women bring Fabulous Salads of Wonder for the females and the men pig out on meat and sugar and the kids drink their body weight in soda. It's a great system I tell you. Having been assigned to bring a salad I decided to break the single greatest commandment of cooking: Thou shalt not experiment with new recipes upon thy guests as thou art begging for destruction (or at least abundant embarrassment). But true to her word, Prissy Green's brag that this would be the most talked about dish at the table was completely fulfilled--in a good way. Even Andrew said he liked it.

The key to the dish is (besides lots of fatty bacon) is roasting the potatoes and using the famous southern Comeback Sauce. I think Prissy got the salad recipe from a Comeback Sauce recipe book or label or something like that but I just googled "comeback sauce recipe" to make my own. The sauce takes approximately five million ingredients (give or take) and if you name a condiment in your kitchen I can pretty much guarantee it's in there but that's what makes it so magical. I can't find the site where I got the sauce recipe anymore, but I've simplified it a bit and here's my version. Enjoy.

Potato Salad:
3 pounds small red potatoes, in 1-inch cubes
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 teaspoons freshly ground pepper
1 tablespoon kosher salt
4 slices bacon, crisp and crumbled
1 cup diced sweet onion
2 cloves garlic, minced
5 tablespoons Comeback Sauce
1 1/2 tablespoons honey
1 1/2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

Combine potatoes, olive oil, pepper and salt in a bowl and toss to combine. Bake in a single layer on a cookie sheet at 400 degrees for 40 minutes or until tender and slightly browned. Cook bacon until crisp, reserving drippings. Crumble into a bowl and add potatoes. Cook onion in bacon grease until soft and translucent (on low heat is best, high heat makes onions more bitter).

Carmelize onions then add garlic and cook a half minute more. Remove from heat and let stand 15 minutes. Add onion and garlic to bowl with potatoes and bacon and toss gently to keep potatoes in tact. Let stand another 15 minutes. While waiting, combine Comeback Sauce, honey, vinegar and parsley in a bowl and mix well. Toss with potato mix and serve immediately.

*Note: for a party-sized bowl I doubled the recipe. I liked it served at room temperature or slightly warm but it wouldn't be bad cold either.

Comeback Sauce
3 cloves of minced garlic
1 medium sweet onion
1 cup mayonnaise (not Miracle Whip though I used light mayo)
1/2 cup chili sauce
1/2 cup ketchup
1/4 cup dijon mustard
1/4 cup yellow mustard
1/8 teaspoon tabasco
1/2 cup olive oil
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/8 teaspoon paprika
2 tablespoons water
dash of salt

Puree garlic, onion and mayo in blender, add the rest of the ingredients and puree until smooth. Chill overnight to meld flavors.

Someone Sent Me This Link . . .

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Sat, 08 Jan 2011 23:01:00 +0000

After reading my post yesterday on the frustrations of flaky teachers my sister sent me this link along with an explanation: Williamsburg Academy is an online, accredited high school that offers video classes and mentoring for a fee.

Now as I said yesterday, I'm not ready to throw the towl in on our neighborhood high school (yet). If you are careful as to which teachers you request you can have a good experience--but there are times, such as this semester, when getting a dud is unavoidable. Grace loves the humanities but instead of learning about arts and letters she's cutting numbers and walking like a sloth. According to my sister, Carinne, Williamsburg is great for those who are homeschooling and want the benefits of a classroom setting but what I'm thinking is that it would also be a great tool for supplementing in situations such as Grace is facing.

At this point Grace is close enough to her entrance exams and final semester that it wouldn't make a lot of sense for us but for Spencer or David I may very well use it. It's not cheap--live classes where you can interact with other students and with the teacher are $200 and recorded classes $100 but they study real things and don't get mired in touchy-feely, off-beat activities. If you have a child that is self-motivated and you've got the computer/internet capabilities then it might be a good option.

Anyway, Carinne says her friends who have used the site have all had good things to say about it so right there it's got a better track record than many of our local schools and bears looking into.

No Sloth Left Behind

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Fri, 07 Jan 2011 20:04:00 +0000

The kids have been in school for a week and already Grace is grumbling about her new humanities class.

Apparently "humanities" means something completely different from when I was in school. No, it doesn't mean studying the fine arts and culture around us--just in case there was any confusion on that point.

They've been assigned to read The Life of Pi. I'm not sure why they're reading a novel in a humanities class (when I took humanities it was a lot of music and sculpture and painting and whatnot) and I have no idea why they're reading that particular novel, which seems to have about as much to do with humanities as my big toe but as if that weren't enough of a puzzler their first class activity was to cut out and design numbers. Big numbers. As in "pi." Each person took a different digit and they made their number big and pretty and then put them together to make pi. Probably because that activity is too stupid and irrelevant to be part of any math curriculum past . . . oh, I don't know . . . 1st grade????

Makes sense to me.

And then as a follow up to that humanities-related activity they decided to study sloths. Help me out with this as I've not read the book but apparently in the book there is a sloth so the teacher told them to get their sloth moves on and to . . . walk. . . very . . . slowly . . . like . . . a . . . sloth . . . and . . . get . . . down . . . the . . . school . . . stairs . . . in . . . no . . . less . . . than . . . twenty . . . minutes.

For heaven's sake she's got the SAT in two months! And they're playing sloth [here's me smacking my hand to my forehead].

Why did I decide not to homeschool you ask? Probably because things were going so well up until she hit high school and even then it's hit and miss as to whether you get a gem of a teacher [standing up and applauding Mr. Wright, Mrs. DePalatis and Mr. Kemper with every ounce of my strength] or a dud like Captain Sloth Lover here. Grace knew what she was getting into though, this class was the only one she could fit into her schedule and the teacher is the sister of one of her past English teachers. The one who allowed a student to make a throne out of hockey sticks as his project on the Renaissance.

Sigh. Where is the Spanish Inquisition when you need it?

Go Steelers

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 22:10:00 +0000

I don't know if football was as big a part of your Christmas as it was here but for someone who doesn't like the game I sure end up having a lot of football around me. The kids are already starting to throw around predictions about who's going to win the Superbowl, usually peppered with comments about how great Tim Tebow and Michael Vick are. Some are saying the Saints will make it again, some are praying about how nice it would be if only the Rams could win. Me? I'm just happy they're all enjoying an activity that doesn't require me to drive anyone anywhere.

During any given dinnertime in our house you can be assured of hearing the subject of football come up at least once until I’ve actually come to be moderately conversant in the language as you can see from the following completely true exchange that happened a few weeks ago.

“What’s your favorite NFL team, Mom?” David asked.

“Huh? Oh I don’t have a favorite. Pass the salt, please.”

“No, come on—what’s your favorite team?” he persisted.

“I told you I don’t have one.”

“But you’ve got to have a favorite. Or at least one you like a bit better than the others.”

“Why? Who says? I don’t have a favorite. None of the teams are in Alaska.”

“But Lillian likes the Colts, Dad likes the Broncos, Grace likes the Jets, Spencer likes the Chargers, I like the Saints . . . you have to have a team too.”

“But I don’t have a favorite.”

At this point, once he realized he wasn’t getting anywhere, he started to beg me to reveal my favorite color combinations that he might thereby discern my favorite team but I was onto him and I was really starting to enjoy his discomfort over the whole issue.

“Come on Mom—pick your favorite!”

Now I could have admitted that I vaguely think Drew Brees is cool and gone with New Orleans but I was feeling particularly ruthless. “Okay,” I said, shrugging and pretending to give up, “The Steelers.”

“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

All five Mittons dropped their forks and screamed as one in horror.

“Heh,” I thought, “That’ll teach ‘em.”

I know just enough to know which teams I’m not supposed to like and which team would produce the most panic. Which is why I then thoroughly enjoyed rambling through a discourse about Troy Polamalu being the best, the VERY best safety in the NFL (hey, if I’m going to promote the Steelers I have to at least pick someone I can stomach).

They don’t ask me much about the NFL anymore. Go Saints! I mean--Go Steelers!

Welcome 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Scribbit) — Mon, 03 Jan 2011 09:00:00 +0000

Finally I'm back at the keyboard after a wonderful Christmas where we were so relaxed and laid-back that we ended up having Christmas dinner buffet-style in front of the television. If you knew us you'd realize how crazy that is--we always eat at the table and TV is never part of the ambiance but it felt so good to do something different and relaxing after all those wonderful parties and dinners and get-togethers. (If that's how we go crazy around here we're pretty pathetic, huh?) And it felt good.

Then for New Year's Eve we went north. After nearly a month of temperatures hovering around zero things decided to warm up here in Anchorage with one of our random bursts of warm air from Hawaii so we escaped north to my parents' cabin where it was a perfectly balmy 30 degrees. Perfect for snowmachining and perfect for fireworks.

Thirty degrees and plenty of snow as you can see from the picture where Andrew is snow-blowing out a path to the well so we can rev up the water pump (you can see the sun getting close to setting and it was only about 2pm or so). David followed behind him with a cinnamon roll, faithfully feeding his father every few steps whenever the man got too famished and weak to go any farther.

Must . . . have . . . cinnamon . . . roll . . .

Then that night we brought out the fireworks. It's such a novelty to have fireworks you can actually see--normally our Independence Day fireworks are at midnight or 1am because it's too bright to see them--and even then it's only rather dusky. But for New Year's Eve we could have started the fireworks at 4 o'clock and watched them just fine.

We waited until about 7pm before loading up the sled and setting up shop in the yard--you can see Andrew and the kids standing in the plowed-out trenches and lighting up roman candles by the aid of the shop light.

With it so warm even I ventured out of the protection of the cabin to watch up close as they lit things up. Anchorage has an ordinance against fireworks in the city so as long as I can remember we've had to get out of town if we want a show. But this year they lifted the ban just for the holiday and things were popping up everywhere.

Last year we had a lunar eclipse on a blue moon for New Year's Eve and I wondered if it could be taken as a good omen for 2010. Now, looking back, even though things were shaky for the first six months it turns out that our little blue moon eclipse ended up being a pretty good indicator of the good things that eventually came our way.

It's funny how things can be going so badly but it doesn't take too long once the stress is removed for you to forget all about the negatives and remember (mostly) the positives. I'm kind of glad our brains are like that.

With fireworks and fun and such a wonderful holiday season I'm hoping that 2011 is even better. I'm going to turn 41 and I'm going to finish the rewrite on my book. I'm going to practice until I can do at least one honest-to-goodness push-up and I'm going to get my knee fixed/strong enough so I can run barefoot again.

I'm going to plan/save for our last official family vacation before Grace leaves for college. I think I may also spend some time brushing up on my French after so many years of neglect. I'm going to finish reading the Bible (I'm plodding through Deuteronomy right now) along with Thomas Friedman's The World Is Flat (so far Deuteronomy is better), Anya Seton's My Theodosia and Bill Bryson's A Brief History of Nearly Everything. Plus a few more in there.

Or maybe I'll get completely wild and crazy and make this . . .

And--oh yea--I'm going to do some blogging. What are your plans?