Chatting with the New Year

Well Hello, New Year. What do you have to say for yourself?

Oh, I don't know, I'm actually still just sitting here in the waiting room reading this magazine -- I'm not to be officially instated til midnight, you know.

That's right, but what a perfect moment for us to chat a little. Once you are THEE year, I doubt you'll have much time for this kind of nonsense.

Oh, I don't know. I have a bit of a contemplative nature. I hope to have a few spare moments to sit back and relax a little.

So is that the kind of year you plan on being? One that isn't always stirring up commotion?

Well . . . what do you mean by commotion exactly?

Oh, you know, some years seem to enjoy shouting. They like giving you things to remember them by like new babies or big moves or unexpected happenings. Some just seem to stay under the radar.

I see. Yes, I will say that some of my predecessors have been a bit more volatile than I am. Take 2008 for example -- moving you from one state to another, tossing you into an unexpected new home, gifting you a small boy.

2008. Yes. He was a bustling sort, wasn't he -- though, not nearly the wild one that 2005 was.

Ahh yes, 2005. I remember watching him. He was just restless. Got bored letting things sit around and stagnate much.

So, back to you. What's your plan 2010?

I think I'm a bit more moderate, but I'll be honest, it is hard for us years to know exactly how we'll respond once we're in charge. Sometimes it goes to our heads and we do crazy things -- sometimes we just, well, feel differently about things during our later months than we did early on. And frankly, I may as well tell you, you are perhaps simplifying us a bit. After all, we are quite adept at resting here while raging there.

I see. That does make sense. Do you have any plans in regards to my family?

Ohhh, you're trying to trick me now -- now that you've got me talking. You know I can't really give out that kind of information. I will say that I wouldn't mind seeing you and yours try a few new things during my short reign however. Like that husband of yours for example. I'd enjoy seeing him embrace mayonnaise and pickles during my stay.

Oh, 2010, I think you might be a more bold risk taker than you made yourself out to be with such lofty goals. I'm afraid the chances of that are most unlikely. Why not something a little more reasonable -- like, I was thinking that perhaps you might enjoy seeing Jesse stop emptying the bathroom cupboards and drawers this year. Maybe you'd even be interested in seeing how he does with no garbages around to empty.

Well, that might be an interesting development. But it's not all me you know. Sometimes it's you humans doing the decision making. Haven't you heard of New Year's Resolutions?

Oh yes, of course . . . it's just I don't think those are Jesse's New Year's Resolutions . . .

Well, I didn't realize we were still speaking about Jesse and his tendency towards destruction. I rather enjoy watching him at it myself.

Hmph. You would.

I'm not the only one. I've seen 2009 chuckling many times as he watches Mike run to stop Jesse from breaking a cupboard door.

Well, yah, he is pretty cute -- for all his naughtiness.

But, we've gotten sidetracked. What I was getting at was what about you, Nancy. Don't you have any resolutions? We new years enjoy not only bringing what we bring, but seeing just what people plan on doing with us.

That makes sense. Huh. I hadn't planned on this being about me though -- you know, it was about you. But, I see your point. Yes, I do have a few plans. A few "resolutions," if you will. Nothing big -- a few changes. A bit more of this and a bit less of that.

Sometimes those little changes turn out to be something big after all, Nancy.

Hmm. I quite like that.

I thought you might.

Well, thank you 2010. I know you only have a few hours left to yourself now, so I'll leave you alone with your thoughts, but I think you are going be an OK year. I think that you and I will get along just fine. I'm eager to see your plans as they unfold -- you seem wise.

I hope I'll prove to be, and, I'm eager to see your plans unfold as well, Nancy. I'll do my best to accommodate them.

Well, thank you. I'll see you tonight then -- good luck being rung in and all that. I hope you don't mind that my kids haven't yet uncovered the ritual about greeting you at midnight.

Oh, I understand. Don't worry. Truthfully, I think I'll find it amusing to see the look on 2009's face as he hears them banging their little pots and pans with him still the boss for a few hours.

Alright, well, goodbye then.

Goodbye Nancy. I'll see you very soon.

Gingerbread Cookie Ornaments

Gingerbread cookies are so great. They are great to eat right when you make them. They are great to eat the next day. They are great to use as ornaments for your Christmas tree and sometimes, when you are two, they are great to sneak bites of through out the holiday season even if they have been hanging year after year on your family's Christmas tree for the past NINE Christmases. Some of my gingerbread ornaments have broken over time, and they have been thrown away, but these particular cookies, I think, deserve to stay in our family ornament collection.

A Blue Marker

"Mom!" Goldie exclaimed last night -- as she recalled a sudden idea, "Can we please buy a present for Mrs. Jones at the store? 'Cause I want to get her a Christmas present with one of my dollars!"

Mrs. Jones is Goldie's Kindergarten teacher.

"Sure we can," I agreed, "but tonight I'm just going to the grocery store, and I don't know that we'd find what you want there."

"But Mom! Please! I know just what Mrs. Jones would want! Really! She needs a new blue marker! Hers ran out and she really needs a new one."

"What kind of blue marker? Do you mean like the kind that write on those white chalkboards?" (Yes, I knew they were called "dry erase boards" but I didn't think Goldie did).

"Yah! Those kind!"

"Did hers just run out today?" I asked.

"No, a few days ago, but every time she uses it it's kind of dried out and she keeps saying she needs to get a new one!"

"That's a great idea, Goldie," I said, "and they actually might have one at the grocery store."

Goldie ran to her room to get one of her dollars. Her grandma had given her $20 for her birthday back in July. Rather than buy one big thing with it, she had been eager to have it broken into smaller bills. Two of them went right away for tithing, and the other 18 have gone here and there towards various things. Once, she splurged and bought herself a tin of little round mints at the grocery store. They were a kind sold up by the gum at checkout stands. We'd gone to several stores searching for them because I couldn't figure out what it was she was trying to find, and we'd kept looking along the candy isles. They were a dollar, or so she assumed, because, for some reason, she believes that everything is a dollar -- whether it be a small treat or a fairly large toy. The mints were close enough and I discreetly made up the difference (because she wanted to be buying them all on her own).

The other dollars have, almost exclusively, gone towards others. A dollar contributed towards sending a little girl in Haiti to school, a dollar to Abe on his birthday, a dollar to my older sister Amy when she got to come along to a sisters luncheon on Amy's birthday. I always ask her if she's sure and tell her we can just buy or make something little (as she also adores making people presents), but it gives her such happiness to give out her dollars and see how surprised and happy her recipient is that there is no talking her out of it. She's been careful in her choices and still has quite a few left.

Anyway, back to last night: She ran to her room to grab a dollar for Mrs. Jones present. We found a pack of dry erase markers that contained a blue one, and once again, Goldie paid her dollar to the clerk before I added the rest.

I thought she'd just want to wrap the whole package of markers, but she really wanted it to be just the blue one. She wanted Mrs. Jones to know, unmistakeably, that she was giving her the very thing she most needed (and surely wanted) -- one new blue dry erase marker.

So, we removed the blue marker from the pack and Goldie carefully wrapped it (along with one small taffy). She then drew a picture of Mrs. Jones right on the wrapping paper in dark black marker and wrote, "Gonze," and I had to give Abe a quick silencing stare when he said, "Mrs. Gonze?" with a hard "G" sound.

It took a lot of deliberating this morning for Goldie to decide when to let Mrs. Jones open it. She really wanted it to be a Christmas present -- wanted to make Mrs. Jones open it on Christmas morning, but I was worried there might be a new blue dry erase marker by then and the thoughtfulness of Goldie's little gesture might be lost. In the end, she'd been convinced to let Mrs. Jones open it today.

I bid farewell to Goldie as she ran into school this morning -- little wrapped marker clutched tightly in her hand.

After school, when she'd climbed next to me in the truck, I asked excitedly, "So? Did you give Mrs. Jones her present?"

"Yah," she shrugged her shoulders and looked down, "but some of the kids were mean to me and said it wasn't a good present and said I have to give her something else."

"What? They did? But did Mrs. Jones like it?"

"Yah," she replied unenthusiastically, h"she did."

"Did she open it in front of everyone? Is that how all the kids saw it?"

"No. Just, some of the kids came over to see what I was giving her and said it wasn't a good present and that I should give her something else."

I began wishing I was there -- that I was Mrs. Jones -- that I could have fawned over the gift and told all of the kids that it was the greatest present ever because Goldie had so clearly truly thought of something I wanted and needed; but I could only say, "Well, that's just silly. I bet Mrs. Jones didn't think that! I bet she thought it was the best present ever and was so happy that you'd noticed what she really needed. I bet she loved your present. Did she use it on the board today?"

"Yah," and a shrug.

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I wanted her to feel how she'd felt that morning as she'd clutched the wrapped blue marker in her hand -- expectant of the joy it would surely bring, but she couldn't feel that way any more. Now it was just a plain old blue marker. A blue marker that did get used right away, but only because that's what you do with blue markers and nothing else.

A tiny little blue markered heartbreak for us both.

"Nine Years Older and Wiser Too . . ."

Happy Birthday, Abraham, my first ever little baby.

NEWBORN ABE

ONE

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TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

H

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

A "Best Day Ever"

Once, in Israel, my roommates and I had a "best day ever." I don't actually recall what was so great about it other than every single one of us got letters and/or packages, and it just seemed like every corner we turned had some new happy surprise -- even silly things -- like returning to our room and discovering our curtains had been replaced with new ones. I have a picture of us all standing there in front of our new curtains -- joyfully holding up our letters and packages.

Today seemed like a "best day ever." So far every single thing about today has just been happy. I feel so happy.

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1. It has been snowing -- ALL day. I know that running errands, etc. in snow is no fun, but my mom loves nothing more than a storm -- any storm -- wind storm, rain storm, snow storm; so we were raised to feel excitement at the slightest inkling of a "storm." Storms meant happiness, and fires in the fireplace, and stories to be read. Living close to the mouth of the canyon also meant most nights were quite windy. I was surprised when I married Mike and found that to him a wind storm meant something very different than being cozied up in bed with blankets -- happy as a Lark. It meant shingles blowing off of roofs, or tarps coming off our hay, or other stressful things. So, we would lie in bed listening to the same blustery wind -- one of us tense, the other smiling peacefully as if being sung to sleep.

I admit I don't love old slushy dirty snow, but I always feel a little sad when someone says, "I hate snow." You can say, "I hate driving in snow," or "I hate shoveling snow," or "I hate walking with snow on the sidewalks," but "I hate snow" seems a very rash declaration. When it is falling and covering everything with white. When there is nowhere specific you have to go, and especially if you have Christmas music playing; well, there is not much more lovely than all that white snow.

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2. Christmas music has been playing all day.

3. My Mike is home with us, and with no other agenda than just being with us. Mike works such long hours, that he isn't just home all that often and when he is home, there is generally something that needs doing -- house projects, errands, etc. But, today is Abe's birthday, so our whole plan was just to be home celebrating that. I feel so much more content when I have my husband home with me.

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4. It's Abe's birthday -- and a happy one at that. He told me he woke up at 6:15 and couldn't sleep because he was so excited and couldn't believe he was nine. That is one of the best things about having kids -- you get to re experience things that you've long since outgrown -- like being so excited for Christmas or a birthday that you can't even sleep.

We don't generally have friend birthday parties for our kids. When Abe and Daisy were very small, I would do a big party for them in the day with cousins, etc. By the time Mike got home, it seemed they were all celebrated out. We decided then to make birthdays more of a thing to celebrate with our family. I do try hard to make the whole day special and about them -- the kids secretly make signs to hang the night before. We let them choose their favorite sugar cereal to have for breakfast and do games, etc. with our family.

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With that said, I'm not so rooted in our ways that they can't alternate every now and again. This year Abe asked if he could have a few friends over, and we were happy to oblige. Planning it wasn't easy because Abe questioned my judgement of "cool" at every turn, but in the end, we agreed on making candy trains and playing several games that passed his "cool" test. It went great, and Abe seemed well satisfied with the outcome. He has contentedly been playing with his toys ever since. Mike is sweetly making dinner (after all my party work), and we will finish the night with cake and presents and the birthday boy getting to stay up late.

5. I know this probably seems silly, but I was already thinking how wonderfully happy this day seemed -- with the snow and Mike here and Abe so happy and the party festivities having gone so well (and having been cleaned up), but then, much later than I thought UPS drivers would still be out making their deliveries, THIS came to the door:

I was so giddy with excitement that I could hardly contain myself. Clear back in May, I downloaded the blurb.com Booksmart program to turn my blog into a book. It was fun to work on for about three days, but then I started having dreams. All night long (for several nights in a row) I would dream out an event or happening; then that event would turn into an image that I had to format correctly into a book. It was maddening.

The program "slurps" your blog right up in order, etc. If you have a post that is just words, or just one main picture, or even words with pictures that don't have to be in any order, it works great. It is just that the Booksmart program doesn't work like blogger where you can just drag your pictures anywhere in your post. You have to choose a format -- and the formats don't always jive with your exact post and how it was laid out on your blog. You can just put it in one of their formats, or you can even create your own formats, but it can drive you a little crazy (hence my dreams).

There are advantages though. You can click a different background for each page. You can have pictures that take up entire pages or are part of a collage, etc.

I got sick of messing with it in about June and laid it aside til last week when I decided that I'd done enough to at least print one book. I've only done my blog from Feb. 2008 (when I started) to Oct. 2008, but I have so many posts and pictures that it was already a 180 page book.

Anyway, here are a few sample pages.

It just seems so fun to have it as a real concrete journal rather than just something floating out there in cyberspace. And I LOVE that I now have a journal that actually has pictures of what I am writing about right along with it. My kids were looking through it tonight reading out loud things I'd typed about them, etc. It really is one of the most satisfying things I've ever held in my hands. I wish I could order copies for all of my kids since it is a record of so much of the goings on of their own lives. Maybe I will sometime, but for now that would be a little pricey.

It is some work, but you can make it much easier if you aren't too picky about having everything placed just right. I highly recommend doing this for any of you out there who have a blog. It is such a perfect journal. I am in love with it and can't wait to get my more recent posts put into one!!

Lastly, and totally unrelated, I love to see my kids creative little minds at work. Daisy just whipped up this little hot air balloon for her toys tonight . . . and look, now this picture is here on my blog . . . which means it will eventually end up in a family journal book right in our own home!

Jesse flick

I was going to post this video with my earlier post about the birthday boy, but it wasn't loading well. Now it seems to have loaded just fine.

Here is a video of Jesse a month ago -- when he still tolerated the occasional toy (before giving them up altogether in order to more fully pursue his dreams of household destruction). Please ignore the talk in the background. Had I not been trying to film I'm sure I would have put an immediate stop to such a disturbing discussion.

One Year Ago Today

It is always so crazy to look back on what was happening a year ago. A year ago I was in the hospital just about to push Jesse into this world -- not yet knowing his name would be Jesse; not yet even knowing he was a boy at all.

I'd woken up at 4:00am that morning -- just for a minute -- just long enough to stare at the red digital numbers on our bedside clock that told me another morning would soon be dawning with NO baby. I was officially on day four of being overdue.

Every night for the past two weeks I'd gone to bed thinking, "maybe tonight . . ." and every morning I'd woken up disappointed, thinking, "I'm still here." But that disappointment had begun to turn into MAJOR frustration as the mornings past my due date kept dawning.

That morning was a particularly frustrating one because I had actually gone to bed feeling some irregular but pretty uncomfortable contractions -- contractions I was hopeful might lead to the real deal, but after sleeping peacefully til 4:00am, I realized that they must have been simply another round of false labor. I made a small sad little moan to myself -- a pity moan, then drifted back to sleep.

Fifteen minutes later I was up again in a state of excited disbelief. There were no contractions, but was that my imagination, or were the sheets all around me wet? I had never, in four pregnancies, had my water break at the onset of labor. That's how it always starts in the movies, and that's how I wanted to have it start. This had to be it. I giddily hopped up and ran to the bathroom -- only to fill a toilet with blood.

My mind was unable to make sense of this. I knew what blood meant early on. I'd experienced it twice, and both times it meant a miscarriage. But blood now? Four days past due? Babies don't "miscarry" at that point. They are babies. Do they die? Does blood mean they die? Would you bleed? But I shouldn't be bleeding -- my water had broken . . . right? I went back to the bed to look at the sheets. Somehow convinced this was all a mistake and I would see clear amniotic fluid, but no. Bright red blood.

Clearly I should have been flying to the hospital, but I really think my mind was in a strange shockish sort of state. I gently woke Mike and confusedly said how I didn't know what to do. "I'm not in labor," I said, "but I'm bleeding everywhere. I don't know what that means."

Luckily "bleeding everywhere" got someone to action. Mike flew out of bed and had me out the door and rushing to the hospital with in about two minutes. Very nice that we happened to be living at my parents still so we could just wake my mom and tell her we were leaving. Still slightly in shock I began apologizing -- embarrassed -- about the blood all over my sheets I was leaving behind. She, of course, simply pushed me out the door with promises of serious prayers.

I still remember that cold dark car ride. I called my CNM, Guy. He tried to reassure me that some women bleed as they dilate, etc. But I never had before and I knew this was more bleeding than could be so simply explained. Mike and I didn't talk much on the car ride. He asked me once if I'd felt any kicking. I told him I didn't know. Then began anxiously focusing on feeling some movement -- any movement -- and not feeling it.

Mike drove me right to the ER door and sent me in as he went to park. I still, oddly, felt unsure of what I was doing there and began mumbling to the security guard on duty how I didn't know if I should be here or not, how I wasn't in labor but was bleeding. He looked a little uncomfortable as he had someone come put me in a wheelchair and wheel me up to the maternity floor.

During the elevator ride I had a pretty serious contraction or two, but I was so bewildered, I honestly didn't recognize them for what they were.

It was only when I got to the nurses station on the maternity floor and explained for the fifth time how I was past due, not in labor but bleeding that things became less surreal and I finally began to cry.

The nurses were very calm and very nice as they took me in to "take a look" at what was going on. As I changed into the dressing gown I had another contraction or two. I climbed onto the table as Mike arrived. I was very tense, but with out any big to do she found the little heartbeat -- as if she'd never doubted she would. She also commented, "Well, if you weren't in labor, you certainly seem to be now!" as the contraction monitor she'd hooked to me registered a contraction. She didn't have to tell me. I knew now. They were slow, long, and very real contractions. I was only dilated to a four (only one centimeter more than I'd been at my previous appt.) so I knew all that blood probably wasn't from one centimeter of dilation, and the triage nurse didn't speculate -- though she did keep trying to reposition me each time my baby's heart would dip down low.

Not having started contractions until I was in the hospital was actually quite nice because it was only a matter of minutes before I was able to have my epidural. Probably the least amount of pain I'd ever had to have with a labor.

My nurse in labor was very good as well. She guessed that maybe part of my placenta had pulled away and caused the bleeding, but assured me that as long as we could keep the heartbeat doing well there was no reason to worry and that if there was any doubt I'd just get in immediately for a c-section. And, she was very discreet about the fact that she kept having to change padding and wipe up more blood. Knowing my little baby was going to be OK was such a relief. I was able to finally relax and get excited about what was about to happen.

The little heart occasionally dipped low, but it seemed we could fix it by repositioning me. Guy guessed that the contractions were maybe pressing on the cord a little since my baby was still up so high. Ha! And fat chance of me ever really having my water break. My sister once informed me that we have steel amniotic sacs, and I am starting to believe it. Even with my natural labor with Goldie my water didn't break until I was pushing her out, and with this one, I was fully dilated with no water breaking.

Guy had me stay at a ten for about an hour before breaking my water and having me push. I always test positive for Strep B, but am never at the hospital long enough for the full four hours to pass after a penicillin dose to ensure my baby won't catch it traveling down the birth canal. Guy was determined to make me wait out my four hours this round. It made me laugh to know I was sitting there fully dilated and not pushing. With no epidural that would have been impossible. How well I recall crying, "I NEED TO PUSH SOMETHING!" when I was at that point with Goldie. Guy hadn't been there and I could sense a vague panic among the nurses, but I couldn't wait. And yet, here I was, patiently waiting. Ahhhhh epidurals . . . how I love you.

At 9:00 am it was time to push and find out who this baby was. Guy didn't tell me. He simply held my baby right up for me to exclaim, "Oh! It's a boy!" and then begin to laugh and cry as if a boy was of course the only thing it ever could have been.

And that is how my little Jesse Frank made his way into the world -- one year ago today.

And here he is today. Very much a "boy" indeed. It is so funny to me to see how he already seems to feel that he should attack Abe (leaving his sister's out of it) when Abe is trying to sit and do something. His favorite favorite thing in the world is to try and break all our doors and cupboards. He opens them and then begins slamming them repeatedly the way they don't go -- trying to pop their hinges right off. He seriously begins laughing to himself every time he gets a chance to do it. His other favorite thing is to find an open bathroom door. He can unroll an entire toilet paper roll in seconds. All around, he is pure trouble. There is no toy in the world that can hold his attention. He ONLY likes mischief. I know all of my kids have gone through the stage of emptying drawers and cupboards, but I think he might be the most proficient at it. There is not any waking moment that he isn't doing something he shouldn't be. I just don't think it occurred to my other kids to wreak quite as much havoc. The other day we were at my sister-in-laws. She has a kid's dream playroom with every kind of fun toy, slides, etc. Jesse did not get distracted from the task at hand (of causing mischief) for even one second. No toy weakened his resolve or sullied his hands. He simply spent his time finding cups of water and plates of food to overturn -- no matter that we tried to make sure there were none he could get -- he found them and only allowed himself to be fooled by an empty cup for a short while.

We love our little kid who mostly only cries when you hold a cupboard shut so he can't open it or when he sees a bathtub filling with water and him not in it. I love that Penny calls him, "Jessy boy." What a funny and cute little boy. Thank goodness he is part of our family!! Happy birthday Jessy Boy!!!

Nancy Tag

I know I am boring you all to death with my lack of posts. Abe gave a valiant try in resurrecting my blog yesterday (well . . . "valiant"? maybe . . . more . . . "feeble"?), either way, despite his attempts to give my blog life, it just lay there (or probably lie there), motionless.

I am here today -- topicless -- simply trying to break my dry spell. I'm trying to squeeze the tiniest bit of blogging rain out of the dry dry clouds floating through my head. Here is why: contrary to what you would think, the longer I don't blog, the less there seems to be to blog about. You'd think a few quiet weeks and I'd be brimming with tales to tell. You know, tales of Thanksgiving and snow, of Christmas decorating and treats. But no. The quieter I am, the quieter I get. My blog is in real danger of drifting into a very long and peaceful sleep. A hibernation even maybe.

And now you are all thinking of how it has only been about two weeks.

Well, what do you know.

What about last year at this time when, despite all the holiday goings on, I was blogging my little heart out? Of course, I had to post all my angryness over never ever going into labor with Jesse, and then, after Jesse finally showed, I had ever so many hours to blog one-handed as I nursed.

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So, I suppose we can't fairly compare this year to last.

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Anywho, I am going to pretend I was "tagged" -- you know, with one of those silly little questionnaires that you fill out? Only I haven't been tagged, so I am just going to tag myself with whatever questions I make up. I know what you are all thinking now, "Oh, the vanity! To think you can make up your own list of tagging questions!" But someone somewhere must. Right? So, why not me? Soon you will be seeing Nancy tag alllll over cyberspace (because of course you are all now "tagged" yourselves simply for reading this).

Anyway, let's see what I've got.Thinking . . . thinking . . . waiting for the flood gates to open . . .OK, I've got one . . . oooh, I'm so excited! Let's see if there is a domino affect and more keep coming!

1. Have you ever been compared to a movie star?

Well, I know everyone is now thinking how I made up this question just so I could brag, and maybe I did, but it isn't really a movie star so much as a day time TV character. Besides, I am excited because it happened only today and it is the first time I have been compared to a star. See, I was wearing this hand-me-down sweater from my sister Megan, and I was actually thinking how particularly cute I must be looking, and then it happened. Goldie said to me, "Hey Mom! You look just like that guy from Blue's Clues! What's his name?"

Me: "Steve?"

Goldie: "Yah! Steve! You look just like him."And then I looked down at myself in my cute hand-me-down sweater and knew it was true. I looked just like Steve. I looked just like a STAR!!

2. Where do you get all your cute clothes?
Alright, fine, I'm not above admitting that the half of my wardrobe that doesn't come from Target comes from my younger sister Megan's cast offs. It's worked out well for me -- even if it does mean that I am a step down in coolness from her (obviously she passes to me only when she has updated her own wardrobe with something more hip). As far as I know it has only backfired once. (See answer to question 1). P.S. Megan, I think it's time you went through your closets again -- the season of giving and all that.

3. Your son Abe guest posted for you yesterday. Would any of your other children make interesting guest bloggers? (You tagged people can shorten this question to "Would any of your children make interesting guest bloggers?").

Oh yes, if Penny could talk the things she could say. Oh wait, she can talk, and she does say those things. I was just thinking of the old "if these walls could talk, the things they'd say" because it is kind of like that. So, if Penny could type, the things she could blog. I always get a good glimpse into all the "dirt" in nursery because Penny loves to tell me things days later like about who ate whose snacks or who cried when someone took the baby stroller they were using. Who knows what light she might shed on our own family dramas.

4. What were two high lights of your day today?
Well, I'm just going to tell you that I ran 10 miles so fast this morning. When I got home I excitedly went to the computer to plug my distance and time into my little pace calculator. I was going to be so bummed if pushing as hard as I'd tried had only gotten me a medium good pace, but it was a better pace than I run my usual much shorter runs. I was quite happy. Plus, I got home just before it started snowing which was much better than the last time that it started snowing and blowing all crazy at the end of one of my runs. I still had about two miles to go and the wind was blowing snow so gustily into my face that I had to glue my chin practically to my neck and stare straight down to run. I decided it was a good time to try out the cosmic connection that assuredly must exist between Mike and I by thinking (as loudly as my brain could think), "Mike, come get your wife! Mike come save me!" and I sent my message on to him with all my mental strength . . . only to discover that the better connection between Mike and I would have been a cell phone connection (as I had considered taking one with me running but had opted not to).

Anyway, that lovely connection was proven a better option for us again just today -- as high light #2 was hanging out with Abe while my little kids slept and Daisy and Goldie made gingerbread houses at my sister's house, and Mike called me from his cell phone to say some clever and funny things. So . . . I guess we can still be soul mates cosmically connected by our cell phones even if we don't have telepathy or ESP or whatever it is where you can read your loved one's mind no matter the distance.

Oh for crying out loud. This little tag thing has spiralled out of control. There are only FOUR measly questions (and we all know a good tag has no less than 50 questions), and yet it has managed to be one million sentences long.

Maybe tomorrow I'll continue this little game with loads of short answer questions. I'll end tonight with a practice one.

5. Do you think it is pleasant to change crib sheets?

No, I think it is a hideous chore. Even more hideous when bumper pads are in the way. Putting on a crib sheet = no fun.

My mom can't think of anything to blog

This is Abraham NOT Nancy, is that clear? Mom asked me to ''guest type'' for her. She can't think of anything to write. So here I am, but I can't think of anything either so I hired an alien to write for me.
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There you are. You are very interested. The end.

Mike Snopes

Now that we have all come to trust and love snopes so well, it is horrifying HORRIFYING to think what will become of us when deceivers begin telling us that something is true because they verified it on snopes . . . when in reality . . . they did not. Soon people will have to look up on snopes whether or not it is true that something was looked up on snopes! Bedlam!

What is most terrifying is that just such deception has already begun . . . and it has begun in my very own home. And, it has begun with the least likely of suspects -- my own HUSBAND! Why is he an unlikely suspect? Because, as those of you who know him well already know, he is an honest honest man. He is also quite a clever fellow though, and apparently, on occasion, his cleverness wins out over strict truthfulness.

I've mentioned before that I love the Lark Rise to Candleford BBC series. I have only seen season one -- which was played (and then replayed) on our local public broadcasting station. I sent an email to several of my Lark Rise loving sister-in-laws the other day telling them that we were doomed to never ever see season two.

Then, to my joy, both my sister-in-law (Marnie) and I got replies to emails we'd sent to our local station telling us that they would be playing season two this January.

Mike saw these emails going back and forth and decided to send a reply out to us of his own devising.

Here it is:

I looked this issue up on snopes.com and unfortunately it is only a myth.  I'm sorry to be the one to break the bad news.  This is what it said:
 
"Snopes is dedicated to finding the truth on the internet and beyond.  Recently we checked into the potential airing of season two of the period piece 'Larkrise to Candleford.'  This rumor has been circulating the internet for several weeks.  We contacted KUED to see if and when the second season would air.  KUED told us that they were about to issue a press release on this same subject.  According to their spokesperson, a young woman, known around the workplace for her distinctive dresses, romantic notions, and afternoon teas, caused thousands of emails to be sent to KUED executives praising the show and calling for more episodes.  The woman allegedly sent the emails from multiple international computer networks making the emails appear to come from thousands of purported Larkrise fans all with distinct IP addresses.  Luckily, KUED's IT department was able to catch on to the scheme before the season aired.  Interestingly enough, the IT department was able to determine that there are in fact only 17 fans of the show, so the upcoming season was quickly cancelled.  According to police, when the woman was captured she faintly sighed and then proceeded to faint."

Only 17 fans?? Oh, honey. How you mock. I do love that this "young woman" he invented was "known around the workplace for her distinctive dresses, romantic notions, and afternoon teas."

My Little Photographer

I was quite surprised when so many of you asked who on earth snapped that picture of me asleep on the couch awhile back. I was surprised because in our house, it is not only not surprising, but expected that roughly one million random photos will end up on your photo card -- photos you never took. Daisy took that particular picture (the one of me sleeping), but it is our Goldie who is a picture taking fanatic. Seriously. Soon we may have to send her to group therapy where she will have to stand and say, "My name is Goldie . . . and I . . . am a camera addict." Every single thing, happening, or time is an occasion for pictures to be taken. The other day I was walking in behind her (after picking her up from school), when I noticed she had left her backpack sitting right on the porch. I was just about to call her to come get it when she bounced back out the door -- camera in hand -- apparently she had left it there on purpose -- seeing a perfect photo op. Silly girl. Here is a SMALL sampling of some of the photos I have found on our camera in the past week or so. You can play a little game if you like -- trying to find things like: our Yahtzee game, Goldie's self photos, Abe running away from Goldie and the camera, etc.