The downside of getting up so early.

The downside of getting up so early...

4/21/2006

Y'know, I've had a couple of productive days.

Getting up at dawn will do that, apparently.

But the side-effect of that is something that bit me in the butt today.

You see, Fridays are our one early day (for the kids, anyways. It's a 'late day' for Ken). Skip has an early band rehearsal at school. Ken "sleeps in" (until 7) and takes him to school at 7:40 on his way in to a late start at work.

So, imagine my shock and horror when, after an incredibly difficult night of moving to Russia and living in a giant abandoned tenement with KATI and Matt LeBlanc, and a few people that I knew in college, and realizing that the entire 15 story building didn't have a single working bathroom, and trying to find a sofa-bed that would fit under a built-in basketball hoop in Matt's studio apartment (the only one that had even a passable view - even if it was of the Endless Steppe), I awoke to discover that we'd had an alarm clock malfunction in the night, and it was 7:48.

*cue the crazy Keystone Cops music as we all ran around like headless chickens*

Let the record show that I managed to get Skip up, dressed, fed, backpacked, trumpeted, and out the door in THREE MINUTES. He was 12 minutes late for practice (the practice starts at 7:45, so that earlier time is just to give Ken a little slop, should he need it), pulling onto campus at 7:57.

I'm still waiting for my heart rate to come back down to approaching-normal.

Sheesh.

I guess you really CAN'T burn the candle at both ends...

---

Of course, when I got home, breathless from driving in bare-feet at speeds more approaching highway levels than neighbourhood ones, I realized that Kelly still wasn't up.

So.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I actually got food into Kelly in the kitchen though. Skip had to eat in the car. Kelly? I stood her by the fridge, and spooned Yoplait custard style into her as fast as she would swallow.

Yes, I'm certain that I'll be one of the finalists in the Mom of the Year Pageant.

---

Still time to redeem myself.

I'll be at the school in a half hour, working in the library. With any luck, I'll be able to lay my hands on the overdue library books of both of my children, and get that taken care of. If not, it's a good thing that I've got Root Password for the library computer system...

Why, oh why, did I stay up until nearly midnight watching GalaxyQuest?

It's my own fault.

---

And company's coming.

Guests tonight for our Home Group Evening. Gotta clean for that. And cook. Well, bake, anyways. Ken would like a veggie platter, too. (adds a trip to MollieLand to the errand list).

And houseguests arrive on Sunday afternoon.

They're staying for a week.

I am So not ready for that.

But I will be. And I'm gonna make them feel more than welcome, because on Thursday, I'm abandoning my family (and houseguests) to do music at a Women's Retreat. Not even my church, but it should be fun. I think they were talking about going all acoustic, just with me and another woman on guitars. But they also want a 'full sound', and my friend (who volunteered me for this music gig) said "oh, do you want her to play the bass, too?" Gotta brush up on my bass playing skillz, then. And there was rumours of a keyboard request, too. Maybe I should just toss ALL our instruments into the back of the Pilot for the trip down to the retreat center... I'll learn more on Sunday at the SINGLE band rehearsal.

So the houseguests will be looking after the kids on Thursday and Friday while I'm away, and Ken's at work. Good thing they're so flexible about stuff.

---

Another dishcloth is done.

Goodness, they're satisfying little bits of completion. Almost makes me NOT want to start a big project.

Almost...

---

9:04. Time to go find the late library books.

And maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll find the library book that Skip (or, really, *I*) never returned to the public library, that I just got a 'replacement notice' about. Lincoln: Lawyer, Legislator, Legend (or something like that). Sheesh. I can't believe I dropped the ball on that one. $21.75. I suppose it could be worse. We've probably built up nearly that much in late fees on the thing, when it comes down to it...

Food deals. And non-deals

Sometimes, a deal is not a deal.

Tuesday, I got a GREAT price on a ham that was bigger than my head. Truly a great price. As in, "What are you doing even THINKING about not buying this?" price.

Why do I do this to myself? Nate and I are the only ones that eat the stuff. so then, after I cut two (quite ample) slices off for supper, Tuesday, I was left with the daunting task (after returning from rehearsal late that night, and watching my pre-recorded House - minus the ads) of cutting all the meat off that bone, and finding places for all the little packages in the fridge and freezer.

And you just KNOW I'm gonna forget that I have that meat stashed away...

*sigh*

---

Also, in the "Why do I do this to myself with food" department:

Thursday morning. (ooh, a week ago). Near the end of the kids' Spring Break from school. There's a knock at the front door.

Standing there is one of Skip's classmates. And his mother. She's starting a new career after 16+ years of doing who-knows-what up in The City.

And parked at the curb is a mini pick-up truck with a coffin in the back, and "Horizon Foods" on the side.

Let me show you what I'm goign to be doing...
Such a great opportunity...
Working with my son...
What kind of meat do you eat...?
How about seafood....
This is such a great deal....
You won't be able to resist...
Do your kids eat pizza...?
Here, let's look in the freezer I've got in the truck...

And she talked and talked, and I thought "Surely this *IS* the great deal that she said it was, so I said that I liked Rib-Eye steaks, and Ken would occasionally (like once a month) eat red meat, and then it was a New York steak, and the kids might be tempted to eat the Fajita chicken strips, though they'd rather poke out their own eyes.

Oh, there's a deal if I buy FOUR boxes? Well, the Lemon Chicken looks pretty good. No, I'll stay away from the seafood. Ken's allergic to the preservative in the shellfish.

What? Oh, there's no preservatives in OUR shellfish. It's all flash frozen on the boat.

Really? Let's take a look on the box... See there? Contents: Flash frozen shrimp, SODIUM TRIPOLYPHOSPHATE (as preservative). That is the thing that'll nearly send Ken to the ER. Maybe you should make a note of that, in case you're selling to anyone else that has allergies...

Think of the savings... having everything ready and at hand. Your life will be easier. You can lounge around eating bonbons all day!

Let's just add this up, and see what it is, after I give you the discounts...

Ooh!

NEARLY SIX HUNDRED DOLLARS.....

Excuse me while I go find the smelling salts.

Fortunately, I was able to play the "We just paid the property taxes" card.

Oh, well, then, what if we do "Buy 3 boxes, get 1 free"? That brings your cost down... DOWN to nearly $12/serving. Though that's just for the meat.

*fans self* I don't know about y'all, but when I'm costing out my groceries, I like to do most meals under $2/serving. For EVERYTHING.

So then she played the "Time Savings" card. Think of all the time you waste going to the grocery store!

Sorry. That's my little zen-time. Walking the aisles brings me peace. It's like walking the labyrinth.

Then she pulled out the "Time savings at home" card. How much time away from your family is spent preparing food?

Heh. She doesn't know me very well, does she? If I can't pull together something in under 15 minutes, I just don't do it. And I do it WITH the kids.

So I played the "Power Outage" card. 'You *DO* know that we have extended power outages here during the warm months, don' t you? And I don't know about you, but I'd curl up and DIE if I had $600 worth of meat in my freezer, slowly thawing out and going bad during a hot August afternoon.'

Back and forth, back and forth.

And finally, I just felt sorry for her, and pulled out the cheque-book and snagged a box of the Lemon Chicken Breasts. The cookbook (free with purchase) says that there are 16-18 portions in the box. Even if there *IS* 18 in there, those boobs are still costing their weight in gold. EIGHTY SEVEN DOLLARS? And that's WITH my discounts.

Oh well.

I cooked up our first pair the other night. Yeah, it was fast getting them into the oven. About as fast as if I'd bought fresh in my thrice-weekly Zen-time at Safeway, and tossed some salad dressing on them before popping them in the oven.

But the size? Good golly, Miss Molly! I'd starve. Either that, or I've got some serious learning to do about portion size. (yes, I know that the chicken boobs that one gets at the grocery store are good for two portions. But we don't eat meat every day, so I give us doubles when we do). Five bites, and that boob was gone from my plate.

Oh well, I say.

I'll chalk it up to my Civic and Neighbourly Duty. And I did keep her son off the streets for another day.

---

Y'know, there really may be something to this "getting up early" business.

Yesterday, I got up when Ken got in the shower (5:45! Eek!), and by the time six rolled around, I'd emptied all the trash cans in the house, and gotten the trash and recycling to the curb, and put on a load of laundry. By the time the kids were stirring at 7, I'd finished up the song sheets for the Ladies Bible Study later that morning, started another dish cloth, and emptied and re-stuffed the school backpacks. And because I was so on the ball, when Kelly mentioned that she really, REALLY wanted to wear her Hello Kitty pink suede mocassins (that had been broken since September, when the stitching all came undone on one of them), I had time to get some kitchen cotton (for the next dishcloth) in a matching colorway, and stitch up her broken mocassin, good as new.

I tell you, by Eight O'clock, I was Queen of the World.

And by the time I'd finished leading the music at 9:30, and was sitting down to hear my friend talk about John 14, I was ready for a nap. That'll teach me to sit in the front row.

Four words: They Heard Me Snore!

Fortunately, I rallied in time to get the kids, take them for lunch, coach them in tear-jerking commentary inside three Mothers Day cards for Ken's mom, get Skip to his piano lesson, hit the post office, and drive the Ragazzi carpool. Both ways.

Oh, and leftover ham for supper.

What else? I do believe I'm hearing oinking in my sleep.

Oh, and lest I forget:
Shortly after Ken left for work this morning (ie, less than a minute), the phone rang.

It was Ken. He was using his angry voice. I can't remember the last time I heard him use it.

"Someone. Has. Given. Us. Art... A. Lovely. "Fuck. You." On. The. Driveway."

J-jumping! I'm in the club!

After popping into regular clothes, I went out with a bucket and a brush. Fortunately, the 3-foot-tall chalk letters vanished with the liberal attentions of the hose.

Even though it was chalk, it was SO unsettling. Someone had come up our driveway RIGHT to the garage door, and had done their tagging. Although, as I looked at it, it looked like the work of a 15 year old girl, trying out her best "bad to the bone" font. All it needed was a little flower over the dotted 'i'. I suppose I should be glad that they ran out of chalk before adding "shit" to the artwork. Though seeing a little flower-dotted-i might've been worth my taking a picture of it.

Guess it's a good thing I didn't leave out the basket of spray paint cans...

Stop, Drop, and Roll

Stop, Drop, and Roll

4/18/2006

Several times a day, Kelly will get thoughtful and quiet. "Mom. I think that man would've been OK if he'd just remember to Stop, Drop, and Roll. Do you think he knows about "stop, drop, and roll"?"

Needless to say, the fire's still weighing rather heavily on her. But she seems very upbeat.

Ken and I talked about it that night. A little strip of mini-warehouses? One bay suddenly bursting into a fireball? Doesn't that just scream "meth lab" to you?

The next day, Saturday, Kelly and I were out delivering the draperies for the Youth Room (yes, I finished sewing and hemming all of them. All. Of. Them.). After we'd unloaded the panels (...*counts on fingers*... 13 in all, that trip, for a grand total of... 23), Kelly asked if we could go and see if the fire was out. We were nearly half way there by the time we got to the church, so we just kept heading south.

All was well on San Antonio Road. And the little strip of warehouses? Good grief, I'd make an atrocious witness if it ever came down to that. It wasn't a strip of warehouses at all. It was a store-front with an office, and behind, along a long narrow driveway, the place that had gone up in flames was a Smog Check Station. Egads.

Oh, and in case you were wondering:

I never saw anything about the fire on the news. I even tried Googling it the next day. No luck.

And I knew that I'd have a bit of run-around, calling 911 on my cell. Calls from cells go to CHP first, and then are re-directed. I was most impressed, though, I must say, at how INCREDIBLY quickly the transferring went. Seriously, it was click-click and there was another calm voice on the line. I truly had braced myself for one of those "lost on hold" horror stories, and it just Was Not.

My hat is off to those guys.

---

Sunday morning, after the first set of music, Ken came down from the stage (he'd been doing keyboards), and leaned over to me. I was expecting him to say something very spiritual about the music, or pious about the message.

Nope.

"I had a great idea up there. I think I did the taxes wrong, and if I recalculate them, I think we'll end up paying about a third of what I originally thought. Whew, am I glad I didn't mail them off yesterday."

Heh.

I think of it as Divine Intervention.

---

Had the 5th Annual Easter Egg Hunt at our house on Sunday afternoon.

I was really worried that it'd get competely rained out, and I'd have "Children With Impulse Control Issues" rampaging through my house looking for hidden eggs, but at the last minute, the clouds broke, and I told the kids that they'd better watch themselves on the lawn, because there was swampy bits that could eat a child alive. While the kids were sequestered in the computer room (playing Runescape, no less), I gave all the adults a bag of eggs, and sent them off in 5 directions.

Chop, chop, you don't know how long the non-rainy break will last, and some of the eggs contained perishable stuff.

After several years of 'working out the kinks', I now fill different coloured eggs for the different kids. It prevents Skip and his buddy Cole from cleaning up all the eggs before Nate even has a chance. And Nate's still collecting eggs from the middle of the lawn.

The egg-distribution (and hiding, for the older boys) had to be put on hold in the front yard, though, while I did my own "hunt" for adult goodies that had been hidden for me. Yes, I scored a bunch of empty Bud Light cans strewn across my front/side yard. One of them was still half full! Score! (or not!) Thankyou, booze-hound neighbours who have no couth.

Oh well. They're aluminum cans, and I can take them to school on Friday for recycle goodness.

And, for the record, the skies OPENED UP (complete with hail) not 15 minutes after the last egg was found, and the kids were back inside starting in on their sugar comas.

---

I've suddenly become a dishcloth knitting machine. I can't get enough of that cottony goodness.

A corollary of that is that Ken's wool sweater has been put on indefinite hold.

---

Hmm. Gotta leave to get Skip from school. His class let out 2 minutes ago.

The mailman just drove up. Kelly and Nate went to grab the mail from him, and he doled out a little bit to each of them, giving Nate the stuff that's not as hard to hold onto.

Then, when I came charging out, because I had Kelly's camp registration that HAD to go in the mail today, to hand to him, he started up a conversation.

"So, your husband's moved over to New Hip Company, has he? How's he liking it there? Was he head-hunted, or did he just want to make a change?"

Gotta love a well-informed mailman.

Ours is the best.

---

After uncountable days of rain, the sun has come back out.

Just in time for the kids to go back to school.

Oh, Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun, where were you when we needed you during the interminable week of Spring Break?

I'll be your witness. Part 2.

I'll be your witness. Part 2.

4/14/2006

Apparently, driving home with Kelly alone gives us some wierd attraction for disasters.

First, it was the rear-ender in the next lane, witnessed out her window by the intrepid Kelly, herself. I think I may have written about it. Last month? The previous one?

And then tonight.

Tonight, I did something I've never done before (and quite frankly, I'd be happy if I never had to do it again, but I'm not holding my breath).

I called 911.
From my cell phone.
In my car.

After a lovely supper out at a local Szechuan place, Ken took the boys home, while I took Kelly with me on a tour through the two farther-away Joann Fabric stores, searching for the "Amaretto Linen-Like Solids" fabric that was marked down this weekend to $2.99/yard. I've been asked to make draperies for the new youth room at church, and they'd like to have as much of the room done as possible by Easter Sunday.

Um, that'd be the day after tomorrow.

---

(begin giant aside about sewing draperies)

Last week, I went out with one of the women who's the driving force behind the remodel, and she showed me to this great fabric place up in San Mateo right on the 101. I don't recall the name, but it was a little warehouse with bolts and bolts and bolts of fabric. Mostly, it wasn't appropriate for our needs, but she found a bolt of navy twill that she thought would be good. (Six bucks a yard. Cough cough) 24 yards later, I had a nice bolt in my car, and was heading home to make drapes. I decided to go for quick-and-dirty and cut 3-yard panels, not hemmed down the selvedges (it IS for a youth lounge, after all), sewed a 3.5 inch rod-pocket across the top, and steam-a-seamed a 2 inch hem. An hour, and I had eight panels ready to go. We managed to get those up on the wall by last Sunday.

Then my "supervisor" went on vacation with her family, and I was cut loose to "make my own decisions" about what I thought would be good for the other 36 feet of walls. And if I could get another wall done by Easter, that'd be gravy!

Earlier this week, I went out with my dad (another of the things I got done while they were here. I forgot!) and picked up 15 yards of ruby red bull denim. It's a bit heavier than the navy twill, but it sewed up nice. This morning I got 5 panels cut and the tops sewed. I ran out of steam-a-seam, though, so only brought 3 panels to the church at noon when I went to walk through the Good Friday Stations of the Cross with Skip. On the way home from that (hooray for Play Dates for Kelly and Nate. I coulnd't have taken 3 kids into Joann's and survived) Skip and I stopped at the local Joann's and picked up some more hem tape. While I was there, I realized that the fake linen fabric (that WAS $4.99/yard) was on super-sale, and this was the time to grab it, so I snagged 15 yards of a "tropical green'. ($2.49/yard. Woot! No... double WOOT!) I bought out what the store had, though. I really needed more, hence the post-supper trip south with Kelly.

(end big giant aside)

---

Anyways, we went south to the closer of the farther-away Joann's, and snagged all the "tropical green" they had. And I also got sucked in by a lovely "lime yellow" (really, a bright chartreuse!), and got 9 yards of that, too.

Seeing as I'd already driven that far south, and there was still over an hour left in business hours, I decided to make the trek to the Mountain View store. Jackpot! They had more tropical green AND more lime yellow. On this visit, I also snagged matching thread (While I'm pretty sure I've got teal thread at home, I knew for a fact that chartreuse wasn't in the inventory. And at 30% off? Need I say more?)

As I was heading back to the 101 from Joann's, I suddenly realized that off ahead to the right the sky was brighter. And suddenly orange. Ooh. Maybe it's a fire?

I got closer, and could see flames. I was getting ready to move out of the way, should the fire trucks suddenly whistle past, when suddenly a naked man on fire jumped out towards the front of the car, waving his hands frantically.

One word: Eek!

In retrospect, he wasn't on fire. Smoking a bit, I think. But there were flames behind him, and he looked charred around the edges. He was panic stricken, and I was too stunned to stop in time. I slammed on the binders, and looked for a place to pull over. It was nearly a block before it registered what I'd just seen.

I pulled over. Kelly was crying. Surely someone will stop, I thought, but cars kept streaming past me.

So I got out my phone.

I could never be an emergency worker. I was all tied up in a knot just hitting "send".

911: 911 operator. What is the address of the emergency?

Me: I'm on San Antonio Road, near Charleston. Palo Alto, I think. There's a naked man on fire. And a warehouse on fire.

911: Palo Alto? I'm transfering you now.
.....
911(new voice): What is the address of the emergency?

Me: I'm on San Antonio Road. Maybe near Charleston. Behind me about a block there's a warehouse to the south on fire. There's a man running out from the fire. I think he's hurt, maybe burned.

911: That's Mountain View. I'm transferring you now.
.....
911(another voice): What is the address of the emergency?

Me: (detecting a pattern here?) San Antonio Road. Near Charleston. There's a warehouse going back from the road south. One of the bays is on fire. There's at least one man hurt. He's trying to flag down help. Has someone else phoned this in? I'm not really familiar with the area here.

911: Fire is on the way. Thankyou. I'm hanging up to take another 911 call.

---

I pulled a U-turn at Charleston (turns out I hadn't come to Charleston after all), and drove back to see if anyone else had stopped. Kelly was very worried, so I reassured her by showing her that two cars had stopped, and the man was no longer running in the street. "Don't worry, honey. The firemen are on their way, and they can put out the fire and help the man who was hurt." At that point, I didn't want to jet up the freeway, so I turned up Middlefield and putt-putted north. On my way, what did I see? A PALO ALTO firetruck dispatched to the scene.

I guess Palo Alto 911 was listening after all.

And now I've got the 9:00 news on, and wondering if the warehouse fire will make 'Breaking News".

I'm still a little tied up in knots inside, though.

Backlog

Backlog

4/13/2006

The water district is flushing the hydrants in our neighbourhood today.

Thanks, guys, for picking a most inopportune time to do that task. I really, REALLY could benefit from about 11 loads of laundry right now (and a shower would be nice, too, and the dishwasher), but we're not supposed to be 'heavy users' during this time, so as to not disturb the sediment that could cause our whites to be dull, and our showers to spew brown water.

My folks just hit the road. Going back to Canada via the Oregon Coast. I hope they don't get washed away. Maybe it'll be drier there than it's been here.

They've been staying with us the past 4 days. Right in the heart of nasty rainstorms. So much for all the outside work that I wanted to get done with them while they are here. The brick wall in the back yard is on hold for another visit. And the laminate flooring upstairs was just a non-starter, because of the icky weather. Who wants to be ripping carpet and sticking it outside in the monsoon?

So instead, we just did little projects. The kids played a lot (inside. Oh, my grey hair! Yes, it was the indoor pillow fight [code name: Demolition] that popped Kelly's first tooth out), and my mom did basic spring cleaning (because she's driven that way) and my dad did all sorts of home improvements. The nail holes in the MDF around the new sliding doors are all filled now, thanks to his ambition, and Skip's new-found skills with the caulking gun.


The sprinkler in the front yard is no longer rusted out, and I have new-found skills with the PVC pipe cutters and the blue stinky PVC glue. A big orchid is in a new pot on the front porch. My bedside table, with the drawers that didn't slide worth crap, is now a smooth sliding piece of art, and we've got a new 4-in-1 screwdriver out of the deal, thanks to dad's frustration with our meagre little collection of non-appropriate tools. Mom and Skip cut out his 'manta ray quilt' from lime green polar fleece and teal blue fun-fur, and now it's just up to me (and Skip) to sew the thing together.

The guest bath sink no longer runs slowly, thanks to dad's skills with a bent coat hanger, and his ability to move past his gag reflex when he saw a hair-clog the size of a small rotting dog.

The back fence no longer has a big gaping hole in it, welcoming in every last deer and coyote in the neighbourhood. Woot! And when dad was fixing the fence, and I was watching (in the rain! I'm such a good daughter), I found a jasmine trying to move into our yard from the neighbour's place, so now we have a nice jasmine vine trailing over the fence. And a honeysuckle! Who knew?

Dad also fixed my garden arbor, which had blown down in the rain storms more times than I'd care to tell. And he anchored it, and levelled it, and braced it, so it won't blow over again. Woot!

And the calla lilies are repotted, and gracing the arbor. And the back fence is lined with Euryops, which should grow into great honking bushes of yellow daisy-goodness in a year or two. And there are Iceland poppies in the front garden, and the icky pots full of dead plants have been turned into good soil at the back fence, and all the old icky pots are full of good new soil, and ready for me to plant veggies in them when the rains actually stop. Perhaps that should be IF the rains actually stop.

And we went through the front yard, and dug up all the prickly weeds so the kids can scamper around in bare feet, and not worry about cactus-like attacks.

And Dad and Skip fixed Kelly's dragonfly light, when it suddenly became possessed by the devil, and turned on all by itself and wouldn't turn off. So now Skip has these wonderful soldering skills, and nobody had to go to the hospital, and he didn't burn down the house.


And the kids made eleventy thousand forts out of all the blankets on their beds, dragged downstairs to the family room, so they could entertain Nonie while she crocheted.


And Skip played as many hours of Runescape as was humanly possible. I dragged him away from the computer a couple of times a day, just so that his grandparents wouldn't forget that he still lived with us, and also so he could play the piano and trumpet for them (but not both at the same time, of course), and make them get all misty-eyed over his wonderful musical talents.

And mom and I went shopping. Ross was good to us, as was Savers, the wonder Thrift Store.

And, and, and. It was a great visit. I just wish that it hadn't rained nearly every waking moment.

---

And go me! April 10th was the deadline for Property Tax, and on the 8th, I walked RIGHT to the place where the tax bill was, and RIGHT to the place where the special cheques are, and RIGHT to the place where I'd already placed the return envelope (stamped, and everything) and got that sucker paid and DONE. Yes, it was still aneurysm time when I had to write the enormous number on the cheque, but at least I didn't have the added stress of not knowing where everything was.

(of course, in an ideal world, the "Very Safe Place" for the property tax form wouldn't be in the cupboard with the Kool-Aid jug, but that's where I REMEMBER it, so that's where it goes)

26/52 ABC *G*

26/52 ABC *G*

4/10/2006

Ah, the places my brain could GO as I think about G.

A trip down Memory Lane, perhaps.

First and foremost: GIRLFRIENDS




That photo's just too old. Time for J-Jumping to come back for another GALUMPH through my GARDEN.

Until then...

A GIRL wearing GREEN...




And last, and not GORY at all...

A GAP


The three kids were playing "Demolition!" (their word, not mine) this morning, which involved some loosely structured game of hitting each other with the sofa-cushions and trying to commit gross bodily harm while laughing like hyenas, suddenly, Kelly grabs her face, and says "Hey, Skip! You did it! Oh!" and there's her tooth, sitting in her hand. He'd just delivered a smashing body blow with the largest of the square cushions, and I was wondering if she was going to grab her neck and shriek "I need a lawyer, Whiplash!"

Quite frankly, with the way the game was going, I was really surprised that she didn't just swallow that sucker down.

So now, the Tooth Fairy has just visited her little nest, taking away the First Tooth that she'd put in a mini zip-lock bag, and replacing it with a matching baggie that contains a quarter. Also, beside her bed is a little battery-powered dragonfly night-light left behind with the quarter.


Another milestone.

First of the White Hot Wigglers

First of the White Hot Wigglers

4/8/2006

We are a family that is late to lose teeth.

I didn't think so, having lost my first tooth the summer before I started school (but then again, I didn't go to Kindergarten, so maybe I am a bit of a late bloomer after all), but my kids seem to be trailing the pack. Skip didn't lose his first tooth until half way through first grade. All his friends lost teeth in kindergarten. Even the youngest in the class.

I had equal thoughts for Kelly, expecting that she would be well into second grade before anything started loosening up. All of her classmates are sporting gap-toothed grins these days.

Thursday morning, I took the troops to the dentist. All three at one shot. Here you go, Mr. Dentist. Have at them.

Three clean bills of health, though Skip is a Heavy Plaque Accumulator. (ack)

Kelly was thrilled that she was going to be able to show the dentist her new bumps. No, she's not in need of a bra any time soon. THESE new bumps were on three new teeth poking through the back of her jaw. Her Six Year molars are making an appearance. Right on time.

And when she came out of the exam room, the dentist had a bit of news. In his poking and prodding around, he'd managed to start her first loose tooth.

She's been worrying that thing ever since.

I believe the days of a nice even set of mini pearly whites will soon be a thing of the past.

Bring on the gap-toothed grins.

But let me get some photos of her great smile with ALL the teeth in it first...

A DNA Morning

A DNA Morning

4/4/2006

What a morning!

First, it was pissing like a race horse outside when we got up. The susurrus is a sure-fire way to keep the kids in a 'shouldn't I still be sleeping?' fog, so I ended up putting on my Drill Sergeant hat, and charging around after them, clapping my hands together at their backsides, just to get them out the door in time.

And... out onto the roads with every last person who's Not Quite Sure.

Just get out of my way. Thanks.

I was a woman with a mission, didn't they know that?

After dropping Skip and Kelly off at school, I high-tailed it over to Kelly's Old School, to drop Nate off with the mother of Kelly's old Kindergarten Flame. He's got a little brother that's Nate's age, and the two lads were spending the morning together.

Woot! A free morning for me.

I needed it, you see... I had a date.

A date with an older man.

A much older man.



Yes! James Watson (co-Nobel Laureate with Francis Crick) was speaking at New Hip Company this morning, and I had a front row seat.

Man alive, for being nearly 80, the guy could talk. And he was funny in that elderly self-deprecating way, too. I ate it up.

And then he signed his book for me.



I guess that means I'll have to read it.

Makes me want to get back into brain-work, though. Reading, and stuff. Enough with these women's magazines and fluffy crafty books. It's time for the textbooks to start seeing the light of day again.

Or maybe not.

26/52 ABC *F*

26/52 ABC *F*

4/3/2006

Am I behind on things here? Am I up to date? I don't remember.

But it must be pretty close to F-time.

Hmmm. What F-word can I pull up for my entry?


AH!!!!!

Who here remembers Skip's Fickle Finger of Flowing Florid Fluid?????



It's a little hard to see, but what the photo is TRYING to show is this squirting shot of blood coming out at arterial-flow rates from a tiny lump on the inside of Skip's left middle finger. He had this tiny bump on his finger, and, being a boy, had to worry it until it burst open. And then, wonder of wonder, and joy of joys, the thing rewarded him by shooting blood pulse-pulse-pulse across the room.

Of course we had to take a picture of it. I think this was spring 2003. The finger hasn't rewarded us since. Kind of too bad. It was pretty darned cool.

Worth the Trouble

Worth the trouble

4/3/2006

Boys Chorus Tuition: Arm

Boys Chorus Uniform Budget: Half a leg

Gas expenses for driving boys to and from rehearsals twice a week: Part of the other arm



Seeing Boy singing the National Anthem on the Big Screen at Pac Bell Park (or whatever it's called now): Priceless.

The Pooh Variant

3/30/2006

The inlaws arrived around 9 last night.

The kids were ecstatic when there came the knock at the door. I'm glad I let them all stay up late. It was worth it for the extra hour of fun last night.

Part of said fun was watching the kids cream us at Chicken Cha Cha Cha


(I've recommended this game before, and I'll do it again. It's a fun little well-produced memory game with beautiful pieces, and somehow, the kids ALWAYS win)

But what had the kids in stitches last night was the fact that Ken had just received the Expansion Set for the game. Yes, if a game with chickens plucking each other's tail feathers is fun, how much MORE fun would it be if the chickens could also POOP on each other.

Oh yes, hear my children squeal with glee as they say "I'm jumping over the poo" or 'I'm pooping right here" and not get reprimanded for using a 'bathroom word' at the kitchen table.

As they were playing, I said "So, Ken, this is Expansion #2, right?"

He looked up, "Um, no. I think this is the only... oh DUH" and we started laughing like hyenas along with the kids, who didn't seem to have a clue why we suddenly found the game as amusing as they did.

---

We managed to pull a rabbit out of the hat at the last minute. Seriously, my house looked like a bomb went off in it until only a few hours before the inlaws arrived. My own fault. I could've started things way earlier, but I'm Queen of Procrastination, and when you throw in a lovely full-day migraine, and kids' schedules, and friends who need "Just this ONE last thing", you get a woman frantic with 5 hours until the Mother In Law lands.

I don't know why I do this to myself, because we have SUCH a great time when the house is tidy and zen-like. I wonder if I'll EVER lose this "must put things off until I'm up against a nearly unsurmountable deadline, and then work like a madwoman" compulsion.

---

Skip's class is heading up to the MOMA today. It's Vincent vanGogh's birthday, I think. Too bad the Museum doesn't have any of his works.

I stupidly told the Field Trip Mom that I could drive back-up, if some emergency came up. Why? Argh! I emailed her last night, saying "I've not heard anything. I'm assuming you've got everything under control" only to hear back with a "oh, let's be safe rather than sorry. Be at the school at 9am". Argh! This is the same mom that pestered me endlessly one night because her daughter couldn't sleep, thinking she'd been voted "Shortest in the Class".

Why didn't I just keep my head down?

---

My friend Lisa The New Knitter brought me some yarn the other day. She'd bought it to make a scarf, but it was turning out to be awful to work with as a novice. It's gorgeous yarn (and pricey! $15/ball) but the feathers are so soft that they seem to glom onto themselves and turn the yarn into a big giant knot.

I watched a show on the Dall Sheep of the Yukon, and knit that yarn up into a long, long, LONG (that ball had great yardage!) skinny scarf on Tuesday evening.

Yesterday at Bible Study I handed the scarf off to her, and felt rather heroic.

Now, back to the little green Snake Sweater.

---

Ken printed our Giants Game tickets off on the computer. Yes, we live in a modern age, but I still find that rather fascinating.

We'll be heading up to The City to watch the game on Sunday afternoon. Skip's choir will be singing the national anthem, and this will be my first time (in the 3 years he's done it) to actually watch him do it in person. This is the reason that the grandparents have driven down from Canada.

I just hope the rain stops.

---

I had the most unsettling dream last night.

In my dream, I swallowed my toothbrush. And then it got stuck in my small intestine, and ulcerated it, and the doctors were keeping an eye on me to see if I could contort to make the thing pass, or if I was going to have to have laproscopic surgery to remove the thing.

Since I've woken up, I keep having these tummy rumbles and I want to palpate and see if I've got the lump.

ANT-agonism

ANT-agonism.

3/25/2006

Face it. You all want my life. You all want my hobby. But most of all...

You all want my PETS!

This is where they come from:


And this is where they're gathering. I think they're plotting as to how to take over the house (if they haven't already done so) See how they're all antennae-to-antennae? They're whispering about me. I can tell.

Doukhobors Mock Me

Doukhobors Mock Me

3/25/2006

I was out at Mollie Stones the other day, trolling for things to make for supper.

Imagine my shock and delight to find, in the frozen dessert section, a big pack of "Uncle [somebody]'s Vareniki" (I've forgotten the actual name, but I do remember thinking "Now THERE is a good Mennonite name!" I think on the back of the package it said something like "Made from a handed down recipe, by hand, by the [insert good Menno name, like "Peters" or "Wiebe"] family" It'd been SO LONG since I'd found a source for yummy pierogies, and I wasn't gonna let the slightly-too-small size of these little pierogies (so he wants to call his mini-pierogies "Vareniki"? Who am I to argue. Bring on the sour cream!) deter me.

I was sold.

It'd been SO long since I'd had good authentic pierogies, that I just snatched that package up. Yeah, they were a little on the small side. And I was trying to figure out why they'd been hidden back in a corner of the frozen dessert aisle, but I wasn't gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

I took those bad boys home, and, with my mouth already watering, got ready to make Ken and I a good pierogie feast like we hadn't really seen since we left Canada.

Boil the water.

Fry the onions.

Open the package.

Look curiously at a small container of frozen dark pink sauce. Set said container aside. Don't have a clue what that is.

Boil the baby-pierogies until they float. Carefully transfer them to the caramelizing onions, frying in butter.

Ken walks into the kitchen, sniffing the luxurious smells of frying onions, etc.

Him: Hey! You found pierogies? (He looks in the pan) They're a bit small, though. Sort of look more like vareniki...

Me: Yeah. They're vareniki. But don't they look yummy.

Him: Hmmm. Back in my Waterloo (one of his alma maters, deep in the heart of Mennonite Ontario) days, we'd have vareniki at the farmers' market, but they were always served with sweet sauce and powdered sugar.

Me: (as realization starts to dawn) Um, so maybe that's why I found them in the frozen dessert aisle?

Go ahead, all you Mennonites and Doukobors and Hutterites. Laugh.

Laugh at the Menno wannabe. Laugh as I tell you that I made us choke down those sweet little morsels, all covered in onions and sour cream.

But you better believe that the NEXT time I make vareniki, I won't be cutting any onions.

Kick start!

Kick Start. Now with 50% more cookie editing

3/24/2006

I've been in a dry spell.

I come here a million times, open a window, and then think "what? I've got nothing"

I need a kick start, or something. At least, some way to ease back into writing that doesn't need a photo-prompt.

---

But then again...

I was knitting last night, watching TV. Something about the Great Lakes. I kept humming "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald". And then I was cold, so I made a cup of tea. Lovely white Earl Grey, Jj, just in case you were curious. Had it on the coffee table in front of me, and had a grand old time. Finished it up, and then got distracted, and didn't take my dirty cup to the kitchen before I headed to bed. (nothing new here. Lately, I've turned into the Anti-Housekeeper. That's gotta change, and soon)


And I think I may have just found the motivation.


I woke up this morning to find THIS waiting for me on the coffee table.





Let's zoom in for a closer look...



Oh Jim! Ji-i-i-i-mmmmmm!
I do believe I need a little Ant Killing Action.

At least they're not in my kitchen...

Cold comfort.

---

Dear County Court Jury Commissioner:

While I'm flattered that you keep insisting on sending me Jury Summonses, I must, once again, regretfully decline. I'm not a citizen, you see. I wasn't a citizen the first time I got one of these things, and I'm only now in a position that I could start the Citizenship Process, if that was something that was right for our family. I'm sure you're just so eager to have me serve, and I promise that once I'm a citizen, I'd be happy to take on that responsibility, but sending me a summons several times a year does seem pointless at this time, and is not going to speed up the process appreciably.

Although I appreciate this proof that one doesn't have to be a registered voter to be summoned. I'm sure that my (American Citizen) friends who have been paranoid about voting because they were sure that THAT would be the trigger that would have them serving in Jury Hell for the rest of their natural life will be happy to hear that they can indeed register to vote without fear.

Your Landed Immigrant Friend
Kemma Parker

---

My inlaws arrive in 5 days.

Can I have a collective "eek!", please?

I don't think I've EVER been this unprepared for their arrival. I've let the place go. I've taken on too many other things, and I've given in to Sloth.

Maybe I'll get in gear today.

As a wee incentive, I've got a dozen people coming over tonight. That'll at least get the downstairs public areas tidied. And a bathroom or two sparkly.

At least, I hope so.

---

And because one should never ONLY have ant photos in an entry:

Kelly's latest play-date.

First, they made cookies.

(*edit* some of you wondered about that vertical cookie sheet. Well, the story is that I had already asked them to say cheese, and focused when Kelly's friend decided to 'show her cookies off to their best advantage' and hoisted the sheet. The reason that Kelly is looking at her and not me is because those cookies are actually in the PROCESS of all sliding off the cookie sheet and onto the floor. And really, the sheet isn't completely vertical. It's probably sitting at 75 degrees, but still easily steep enough to launch the cookie dough)

Then, they got rewarded while the cookies were baking.


And then they had a love fest, because they were SUCH GREAT BAKERS and SUCH GREAT FRIENDS.
(or maybe it was just that they were having a sugar rush)

26/52 ABC *E*

26/52 ABC *F*

3/20/2006

Where have I been?

Knitting!

F is for....


FINISHED


Behold, the bunnyhug. I wish the pocket showed up a little better. I should've had Kelly put her hands in it.

I probably should've taken a moment to clear up the clutter behind her, too. Oh well. At least I've got a record.

But...

F is also for...


Fuzzy.

And...

Fricken' Frack! Is that a loose end that I FORGOT to weave in?
I guess I'm not so finished after all.

Oh well. I didn't want to start on the Next Big Thing tonight, anyways.

Typhoid Skippy

Typhoid Skippy

3/14/2006

There are 5 kids running around inside my house right now.

And Ken is working from home.

Of course, I am in avoidance-mode, and so am writing an entry. Heh.

---

Skip's conference was this afternoon.

I'll get to that in a moment, but when we were coming onto campus for the meeting, I ran into another mom from the 5th Grade.

Turns out that there were ELEVEN kids in his class today. And NINE in the other class.

The class is over 50, total.

Lots of kids coming home from Outdoor Ed Week with some sort of sick. Sixty percent absent rate.

*looks around sheepishly*

I wonder... Skip was looking BETTER when he came home than when he went away. I wonder if he's Typhoid Skippy.

---

I went with my friend Lisa on a knitting field trip this morning.

I've never been to The Knitters' Studio in Menlo Park before.

It's a pretty nice place. Pricey in the extreme, but they were having a 40% off Overstock Clearance sale, so that brought the prices out of the stratosphere. Somewhat.

Did I show restraint? Did I walk away?

Well, not really. Though I did show restraint.

I snagged 2 skeins of Noro Fuji. It's a cotton/wool blend. I have no idea what to do with it, but it was purdy.


I found it online for $7.95. TKS sold it for $9.95, but it was part of their 40% off overstock sale, so that made it a bit more of a bargain.

And then there were skeins of Noro Lily. Two different color-ways.
and

I'm going to try my hand at entrelac knitting with these.

And then Nate picked out some Crystal Palace "Splash" that looked like a parrot flying through the rainforest, so I had to have that, too. Of course, he completely mangled the ball, so I was morally "forced" to buy it, right?

Lisa has already finished her first project, and is moving onto a blanket. The folks at TKS were very kind to her, and helped her out a lot. I think we'll go back again.

But our next "field trip" will be to Creative Hands, my own fave LYS. I've got a membership card that gets me discounts, you know. I've gotta get my money's worth on that thing. And besides, they'll be moving closer to my place soon, and I've got my fingers crossed that they'll be having an inventory clearance sale, so they don't have to move as much stuff when they change locations next month.

---

How many days of Lent have passed?

I still haven't gone to the Paint By Numbers site. It's been close a couple of times, though.

---

Kelly has a little friend over.

Nate has a little friend over.

Skip is currently hiding on the couch with his head in his hands. Exhausted much? He's spent a good amount of time playing an impromptu made-up game of "Here comes the monster" which had all four of the youngsters in stitches. He's gonna make a great dad some day, but he's gotta learn how to pace himself.

I distracted the girls with a little 'chore' of cleaning Gentle's cage. Of course, the little boys had to get in the act, and then Gentle went missing, so I had to shoo everyone out of the room before she got stepped on by four zealous "rescuers".

So now Nate and Dan are playing construction in his room, and Kelly and Gina are getting ready to play "camouflage hide-and-seek". Kelly's got a leopard print gym leotard that's the same pattern as the pillows on our family room couch, and she thinks she's just a regular chameleon when she wears that, and then lays under the pillows. She's trying to get Gina to wear another of her leotards, so they can be 'matching', but there's only one leopard leotard.

Gracious. I just now realized how close those words are. It just didn't look at ALL right, Leopard, and Leotard side by side.

---

Speaking of being a little slow on the uptake...

We've been in this house for nearly 6 years. Shortly after moving in, we painted the bannisters white, moving away from the 'drab dark brown'. Nearly instantly, I realized the error of my ways, as those shiny white bannisters showed EVERY mark, EVERY smudge, and EVERY dust-mote (not to mention EVERY blood smear... but that's another story)

Anyways, so, for the last 5+ years, whenever I've wanted to clean the railings, I've gone up and down the stairs with the cloth and the cleaner. And then, to get the OUTSIDE of the railing, I've gotten up on a chair, or some other precarious perch, to reach up and wipe down the outer baseboard.

Last week, (oh, please, someone mop up the stupid paint that's dripping off my fingertips) I realized... for the FIRST TIME EVER, that I could actually reach OVER the railing, and reach the outer baseboard, turning my 10 minute "Oh, do I REALLY have to do this now?" task into a thing of seconds.

I feel like a Tard with a capital RE.

---

Bunnyhug update:

T minus three days, I think.

I've cast off the front neckline, and am mostly done the right shoulder shaping on the front. Just the left shoulder, and then the hoodie to knit and attach.

Incentive: I really want to get motoring on some entrelac knitting next week.

If only I could get this excited about cleaning my house, or paying my bills.

March in California?

March in California

3/10/2006

What month is this?

Where do I live again?


Yes, those are MY pansies.

And yes, that is SNOW on them.




My lawn. My snow.

I let Kelly stay up until nearly 10pm, just so she could go outside and play around in the snow.

I'd post the photo of my neighbour's car covered in snow, but it's horribly out of focus. And I nearly killed myself crossing the road to take the picture. Other neighbours, who own convertible sports cars, apparently can't drive worth beans in the snow.

Which, considering the area, makes perfect sense.

The last time this region saw snow was a month before Kelly was born. Christmas 1999. And that was just a few flakes that didn't stick to the ground.

---

I picked Skip up from his Outdoor Education experience this afternoon.

He looked like death warmed over. But he had a smile on his face. He said it was mostly fun, but the food sucked. And he was FREEZING. Turns out, they'd had a snowball fight one morning after breakfast. Yes, it was THAT cold.

He begged for a sushi lunch, and I obliged.

And then he came home and got violently ill.

I guess that means he won't be singing in tomorrow's concert.

---

I need to take photos of Kelly's bunnyhug. It's SO close to being done. I bet I finish the front while watching NUMB3RS tonight.

26/52 ABC *E*

26/52 ABC *E*

3/6/2006

Remembering the origins of this series: (taken from a now-favoritized entry in aya's diary)

Rules:

• The photo must be taken BY you, or have you IN it. No grabbing photos online, or from others. That would be cheating. And possibly stealing.
• Post your entries using a title along the lines of : 26/52 ABCs - A (I think I'm going to set up a chapter for this)It can be posted anytime within the 2 week period, so don't think you have to do it on the first day. No pressure.
• Have fun, be creative. We're gonna have to be, especially for X, lol. You can play around with your pics as much as you want on photoshop, paintshop pro, etc. The base just needs to be a photo by you or with you in it, and with the weekly letter in it.
• You can write a blurb to go with the photo, but it's not necessary. I mean, if you post a picture of corn, you don't have to say "C is for Corn", we'll get it. But if you post a picture of a fireplace with a fire roaring, and snow falling outside, we may not get that "C is for cozy", ya know? But, give us the benefit of the doubt, we're kind of smart. Sometimes.
• Feel free to urge your other Faves to do this.

And here's my next one in the series:

E is for...


This picture was taken about two seconds before that elephant raised her tail all the way, and let fly with a stream of about fifty gallons of piddle. The kids were FASCINATED! And of course, once you've peed, you may as well clear out the bowels, too. Oh man, it was ALL the kids would talk about ALL the way home from the zoo. (taken at Kelly's school trip to the zoo, last October)

And E is for.....

Anyone...? Anyone...? Buehler...? Buehler...?

OK, it's a trick question. E is for Engraulis mordax. The northern anchovy.

And E is for EXPEDITION (this morning)


And E is for...

ENCOURAGEMENT:


and...

EXHILARATION!

(last weekend. JUST before the rains hit. Hard)

Off he goes!

Off he goes

3/6/2006

Skip is off to Outdoor Ed with his classmates this morning.

After a weekend of fever, he seems to have rebounded ENOUGH for me to shove extra stuff into his duffle bag, slap his daypack on his back, and say 'Don't let the door hit you on the way out.'

A weekend of fever?

Why yes. He was sick ALL weekend.

He seemed to perk up a bit on Saturday morning. His fever was down into the 99's, so when I left for Dress Rehearsal at 9 Saturday morning, I thought "oh, he'll take it easy today, and that fever of yesterday will be just a dim memory".

When I got home (at nearly 5pm! eek!) he was playing "Doom: The Boardgame" with Ken, and looking mostly perky (though that might have been because Ken made him have a shower before he played any games), but by 7pm, he was ready for bed again.

And Sunday, while he looked perky(ish) at breakfast, by the time we got to church, he was sagging, and when I touched his forehead, he was pretty hot. He spent the service draped across my lap, while I scratched his (hot) back with my (cold) fingers, and then we zoomed home where he went straight to bed (after popping a few kiddie tylenol to bring the fever down). At dinner yesterday, he seemed back to normal, although he does the wounded animal thing pretty convincingly (when he wants to do something that might be precluded if he's sick), where he LOOKS fine, but you just don't know. And I had no trouble putting him to bed early last night.

This morning, even with the extra sleep, it was pretty hard to get him out of bed, but when I said the magic words: "Outdoor Ed", he perked up, and got dressed without any fuss. His fever's gone, but I think he's still recuperating. He looked pretty subdued at the school this morning at drop-off, but he was grinning as he put his duffle bag in the line up, and started milling around with his buddies.

I hope he has a great time.

Tour's back on

Tour's back on

3/4/2006

So I screwed up my courage yesterday, and I marched down to the Chorus Office, and I tried to sort out why we hadn't gotten any of the tour mailings.

Apparently, everything was getting sent. We're on all the appropriate lists. Things were mailed. We just didn't receive them. It's like some cosmic confluence of factors, conspiring to make me nuts. Because of course, this is compounded on the fact that there was a glitch in the automatic bill-pay from my credit card, and Skip's tuition hadn't been coming out the last 5 months. Hello, hit me upside the head with another bill. Thanks.

The office manager is a wonderful woman. She knows EVERYONE by name, and knows all the boys, even though she's not involved in the music end at all. She immediately tried to put me at ease about the glitch, but, of course, what do I do when I'm uneasy? Especially when I'm uneasy, and someone is trying to put me at ease? Especially when I'm UBER-uneasy about the finance end, and the manager is thinking that I'm just nervous (and perhaps a bit neurotic?) about sending my son, the youngest ever to be promoted so quickly to the Concert Choir, away on his own for a week to Montana.

Why, I cry.

Thanks for asking.

Which of course makes me look even MORE neurotic than she thought I was, even though I'm *NOT* neurotic, I just am incapable of stopping the tears from flowing when I'm nervous, and don't want to bring up the topic of money.

But finally the topic of money comes up, and I manage to compose myself enough to say that we can't be spending ALL of our non-earmarked income for ONE activity for ONE of our children.

There. I've put it out there.

I've confessed that we're not the wealthy money-buckets that she thought we were.

And it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be.

But now the guilt starts seeping in.

"Oh, we have financial aid in place for families just like yours. I don't want to offend you, because some people are very proud about accepting help..."

And the fact remains that we're not proud at all. We're honest. When the financial aid form says "I can/cannot afford $1300", in all honestly, we HAVE to circle "can", because, let's face it. If a sudden expense came up that we HAD to pay, and it was $1300, we'd find the money, ergo, we CAN afford it. We could easily take out a loan, or we could put it on the Line of Credit, [or heck, we could dump it on my credit card, the one that was issued to me when I honestly said that my income was ZERO, so they sent me a card with a credit limit high enough to buy a car.]

And I tried to make that clear. That we COULD afford it if we HAD to, but we didn't want to tell the kids that we weren't going to be doing A, B, C, and D, because Skip's concert tour was a requirement of his joining the Chorus. (Double whoopsie: When I asked if the tour was optional, I was informed that I'd SIGNED a contract saying that the Singing Year Commitment included Camp and Tour. Crap! I remember signing that, too.)

Once again, I was presented with the option of Financial Aid. I think she was worried that I was going to just say "We can't afford it, so we're pulling Skip out of the Choir" because she started saying how impressed they all were with Skip's musicianship, and how bright he was, bla bla bla. I've gotta say, she said all the right things. I've not been hearing much good news about Skip, lately. Perhaps folks just think that his brilliance is implied, or something. Anyways...

Then she said the magic words: "You're not alone. There are a number of families taking advantage of this program. Why, some families have been hit extra hard by the costs of PRIVATE SCHOOL...."

ding ding ding ding ding

You mean that PRIVATE SCHOOL EXPENSES are considered a hardship? Private School doesn't even figure on our horizon, it's such an unattainable luxury right now. If folks are sending their kids to posh chi-chi private schools, and ALSO applying for financial aid, you can bet your left butt cheek that I'm going to be all over that 'scholarship program' like white on rice.

So Skip's going to be going on tour.

Montana, here he comes.

And we'll be paying a fraction of the expenses. Hopefully. I still have to fill out the forms.

They were EAGER to grant me an extension to fill out all the forms.

And now, knowing that I won't be out $1300 that I don't have, I'm eager to fill them out.

(ooh, and maybe, with the money we save on this, I can take a little side-trip to small-town Big Sky Country to learn how to dye yarn from the master)

---

I'm really glad that I didn't give up yarn-buying for Lent.



This uber-soft shetland worsted is going to become a little lace-edged baby blanket for my friend Shelley, who's having a boy in June.

And while buying that little cloud-soft bit of loveliness, I discovered that my newly-found favourite yarn store is moving at the end of the month....

CLOSER TO ME!

Still not close enough to walk to (but nothing is, from our house), but it'll be in OurTown, now, instead of nearly two cities south.

Woot!

And they asked me how my Knitting Olympics experience went.

I kind of wish I'd printed this out, so I could've whipped my gold medal out of my wallet. And it doesn't have a hole in the middle, either.

---

Speaking of knitting.

The sleeves are done on Kelly's bunnyhug. I'm about 3 inches done on the sweater-back, too. I think it's time to put the kids to bed, and knit like a maniac in front of the TV.

Yesterday, Lisa took to knitting like a fish to water. She's a natural born knitter. I gave her some mint green Jaeger Merino DK, and some blue/grey/green/cream variegated of the same yarn. She's well on her way to making a preemie-sized baby hat, as a memento for the ectopic baby that they lost. And there will be plenty of yarn left over to make a real newborn-sized hat for when they have a full-term success story.

---

Skip's class leaves for Outdoor Ed on Monday morning.

What was he doing yesterday? Taking last-minute notes at school? Discussing packing strategies with his teacher? Planning out the hikes and beach trips that will be happening?

Why no, he was languishing on the couch, making dying-animal sounds, while his temperature spiked to nearly 103.

Children's Tylenol, how I love thee.

He seems to have made a rebound today. He still looks like death warmed over, but that might be just his response to being told to have a shower. We just finished packing his duffle bag. You can be sure I checked it three times to make sure the orange towel was packed.

---

Our choir is performing in Palo Alto tomorrow afternoon.

I *SWEAR* every concert, I say the same thing "this is the WORST-prepared I've EVER been for a concert!" but this time, I mean it.

*stamps foot*

Honestly, I had SUCH high hopes for myself. I was going to bring the music home, and put it on the piano, and practice my lines. I was going to know the scores backwards and forwards, and I was going to have the words all committed to memory. Even the German words!

In actual fact, I brought my music out exactly ONE time.

I suck.

But people won't be looking at me.

They'll all be looking at the full-of-herself contralto soloist. The one that keeps dragging the tempo down, down, DOWN, while she drags out her little swoopy "Qui tolis..." until everyone around her is silently praying "Miserere"

(little Choral Humour there)

I will do a better job of publicizing our May concert. We're doing Fern Hill, and it sounds like it'll be pretty fun. And if you make the trip, I'll comp you a ticket if you let me know in advance that you're coming