Flingshots

One of the coolest presents I have ever received was given to me this Christmas by my friend Nik. It is a set of not one, not two, but SIX of these. I now have not just the monkey, but the frog, pig, cow, duck, and rooster.

I have a long history with these crazy toys. I first saw the monkeys when they were one of the rewards for participation in a CMS fundraiser. I kept threatening to confiscate them from my students...because I wanted one for myself. When I saw similar screaming monkeys for sale, I had to get several. One became the most coveted item at the 2004 family Christmas white elephant gift exchange. One monkey became my apartment's unofficial mascot. For some reason, which I can't remember now, my roommates and I named the monkey after an insufferable guy in our ward. We would fling him-the monkey, not the guy-across the room at the slightest provocation. Liz still holds the record for both distance and accuracy in monkey flingshot.

I'll never forget the night B met the flingshot monkey. It was New Year's Eve 2005. My roommates and I had decided to throw an impromptu party, and even though we'd only been on a couple of dates by then, I got brave and invited B. I was feeling silly and coquettish, and decided to get B's attention by flinging the monkey past his nose. Unfortunately, I have terrible aim with the things, and the screaming monkey smacked B right in the forehead! Boy did I feel stupid! B must not have been terribly offended, as he did ask me out again. (Not to mention the fact that he eventually married me. ;)

Unfortunately, Dave the monkey did not have as happy an end to his story. He made one flight too many, lost his voice and his stitching, and now sits quietly upon a shelf-a momento of a very fun time of my life.

Several years later I saw different kinds of animal flingshots for sale. I bought a rooster for Nik, who was leaving on a mission. She took the crazy crowing rooster with her, where it provided her with hours of entertainment-and her companions with hours of annoyance. *smirk*

I offer this lengthy history only to explain the elation I felt on opening the present from Nik, and finding a whole collection of flingshot animals! Someone else, however, was not elated. When I took out the monkey from Nik, I put it on my fingers, stretched it back and shot it screeching across the kitchen. J did this:
I was surprised. He usually doesn't react this way to noises of this type. Of course I scooped J up and comforted him, even though Nik and I couldn't help laughing a little bit. After a couple of days, J decided that the flingshot monkey was his favorite toy. He now carries it around with him and doesn't bat an eyelash when the monkey screeches. Here is J with his new friend:

Birthday Candles

December 19th was the birthday of my marvelous hubsand. (No, that isn't a typo. I wrote it that way on purpose.) I put a lighted birthday candle in his buttermilk pancakes in the morning...and in his macaroni and cheese at dinner...and in his hot fudge brownie sunday for dessert. (He rolled his eyes at me, but he knows that all this is not just an indication that his wife is a pyro, but that she loves him. ; )


Where did the idea of birthday candles come from anyway? (ancient Greeks, according to a quick Internet search) It is fascinating to me how often our celebrations involve things for which we have forgotten the original purpose, but we continue to do them because it is customary. Why do some practices catch on and become tradition, while others fade into oblivion? I may never know the answer to these questions, but I like lighting things on fire, so I'll keep the tradition of birthday candles. (Yes, we do own a fire extinguisher.)

First Snow

B thought we should take J outside to walk in the snow for the first time. I've looked for snow gear for the little guy, but haven't yet found anything in his size that is affordable. So, we had to improvise. I put plastic bags over the socks and shoes he was already wearing , and then covered everything with a pair of my socks so that he wouldn't slip. With a pair of his own socks on his hands for mittens, he was ready to take on the outdoors. We only stayed out for about five minutes because it was cold, but J loved it! After we came back indoors and got out of our snow clothes, he toddled up and patted the front door, glancing back at me beseechingly. We'll go out again another day, Jbaby.

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like...

We decorated our house for Christmas a while ago, but I finally downloaded some pictures to post. Though it isn't very extensive, We're enjoying the change in decor. J shows this by trying to rip the ornaments off the tree any time he gets close to it. ;) We opted to use our little artificial tree this year so that we could barricade it in the corner. I bought this tree at Walmart in Evanston, Wyoming in December of 2000 when I was teaching school in Lyman. Most of the decorations I had were cheap, old, and shabby, so I bought some cheap, new and shiny ones to replace them. It was fun to look for tiny ornaments to fit our tiny tree. B used his artistic eye to make sure everything was pleasingly arranged.










We now have a Little Town of Bethlehem and a Snow Village, courtesy of Department 56, and B's mom.











We don't have a fireplace, so our "stockings are hung near the heat vent with care, although we know Saint Nick just can't fit through there."









I have been listening to all kinds of Christmas music. I plugged my computer into some speakers so I could go online and use Pandora. (Anyone who doesn't know about this site should check it out. It is way cool.)

I didn't realize what a rough time with post partem depression I was having last Christmas season until this year came around. I find I want to celebrate doubly because I feel so much better than I did this time last year. Hooray for Christmas! Hooray for healing! Hooray for Christ who makes both possible.

Whole Wheat Buttermilk Pumpkin Pancakes

are delicious. I've made them three times in the last two weeks. The first time was just because I had a craving for something pumpkiny and spicey and warm. That kind of thing happens to me in the Fall. B was still out of town, so J and I ate the entire batch ourselves. The second time I tripled the batch and made them for my book group. The pancakes were a hit. The third time I made them to celebrate B coming home from Book Tour. He is not a pumpkin fan, but he tried my pancake creation and liked it. Three for three. That doesn't usually happen to me with cooking. I can't take credit for the recipe, however. I found it here via a Google search. Of course, like all good recipe robbers, I ended up tweaking this one a bit to suite my tastes and situation. I think my pancakes were especially successful because I served them with Buttermilk Syrup. (This stuff is so good that you could probably drizzle it on cardboard and folks would gobble it up!) There are several recipes floating around, I know, but mine was acquired from my friend Rachel who learned to make it when she worked at Magleby's. And now, without further ado...

Whole Wheat Buttermilk Pumpkin Pancakes

• 1 1/2 C. whole wheat flour
• 1 t. baking soda
• 2 t. baking powder
• 1/4 t. salt
• 1 t. ground cinnamon
• 1/2 t. ground ginger
• 1/2 t. ground nutmeg
• 2 eggs
• 1 C. buttermilk
• 1 C. canned pumpkin puree
• 2 T. oil
• 1 t. vanilla

Combine dry ingredients and set aside. Beat eggs lightly. Add other wet ingredients and mix. Add wet ingredients to dry and blend just until all the flour is moistened. This batter will be thick, and makes dense pancakes. You can thin it with water if you prefer.

Buttermilk Syrup
1 cube butter
1 C sugar
1/2 C buttermilk
1 t vanilla
1 t baking soda
1 T Karo syrup

Melt butter in a medium sauce pan. Add other ingredients and mix well. Cook, stirring constantly, until it boils, then take it off the heat. It will appear frothy, but will cool and distill into a light golden syrup.

Note to Self

Next time I think I am hungry enough to resort to fast food, I must remember how REVOLTING I find it. Ads make it look so appetizing...


but I am always disappointed when I actually get my meal.


Unlike asparagus. . .which is also revolting. . .



fast food doesn't even have the advantage of being good for you!

Happy Halloween!

Pumpkin Update

Happy Halloween!

Happy Birthday to J!

One year ago today our Jbaby was born.

We knew his daddy would have to be out of town this year, so we celebrated J's first birthday early. My family came over to open presents and watch J destroy-I mean-enjoy

this beautiful cake created by the talented Lisa.



Then, a week later we celebrated again when B's family came into town.

This time I made the cake, and it was not so beautiful, but J seemed to enjoy it just as much.

I figured two cakes were enough for any kid, so we are not eating any cake today, even though it is his actual birthday...unless you count pumpkin pancakes. (More about them later.)

It has been so fun to get to know this little boy and watch his personality develop. B and I are glad to be his parents.

Green Pumpkin

Green Update: I put my reusable bags in the trunk of my car so I'd be sure to have them any time I stopped to buy groceries. Still, on my last shopping trip I forgot to bring the blasted things into the store! Luckily, my sister was with me and volunteered to run and grab them. I have since transferred the bags to the front passenger seat in my car. Their bright green color makes these bags a little hard to miss, so hopefully I'll use them enough to make it a habit.


Last week I bought three pumpkins: a daddy pumpkin, a mommy pumpkin, and a baby pumpkin. For the past few days they've sat on the porch looking cheerful and autumnal. The plan was to turn them into jack-o-lanterns tomorrow. This evening, however, I noticed that the baby pumpkin is gone! I know such thefts are a common occurrence this time of year, but I still felt sad. I guess instead of a pumpkin, J will be represented by a carved potato. *grin*

Being Green

I bought some reusable shopping bags at the store the other day. I'm ashamed to say, though, that this act was motivated more by selfishness than concern for the environment. I've always just disliked having having wads and mounds of plastic shopping bags around. My reusable bags are sturdy, hold plenty of groceries, and have long handles. Now I just have to develop the habit of taking them into the store with me...

I am not at all opposed to "living green." I like to feel like I'm doing my part to help the environment. We pay a monthly fee to recycle aluminum and plastic. (Which reminds me-tomorrow is garbage day. I'll have to remember to put the cans out by the street, as B is not here to do it.) However, I find that if something is better for the environment, but takes too much trouble or money, I am unwilling to do it. I would say that on the scale of green I am just a pale mint shade. However, there are people who are a bright glaring neon green, which I find both impractical and obnoxious. I would like to work towards becoming a deep, healthy forest color.

Forgotten Laundry

If I had a rock band I would name it "Forgotten Laundry." Those two words together just sound cool to me for some reason. Try saying them aloud. See? don't you think they sound cool? Okay, maybe no one else gets the same kick out of it that I do. I am a word nerd! Band names always interest me. They are usually catchy, fun to say, and make me wonder about their history. Take Death Cab For Cutie, for example. Did you know that the band is named after a 1967 song, which was most likely taken from the title of an old pulp fiction crime magazine? (I'm not as smart as I seem; I looked it up on Wikipedia.) So hey, if an indie rock band can call themselves something wacky like Death Cab For Cutie, why couldn't I name my imaginary band Forgotten Laundry? I'm sure my band would be a big hit among homemakers all over the world. We could come up with all kinds of ridiculous laundry-like puns to use as slogans on swag and such. *smirky grin* My own forgotten laundry story, however, is not nearly so funny. Here's what happened:

A couple of days ago I put a load of clothes in the washing machine. I started it, then forgot all about my laundry until the next morning. By that time the clothes smelled damp, musty and mildewish. There was nothing for it but to add more soap and start the wash cycle again-with HOT water this time. I remembered to transfer the clothes to the dryer, and even folded and put them away. Yesterday I put a load of towels in the washing machine and started it. You guessed it! I forgot all about them until this morning. Once again I had to re-wash the load. I almost forgot about them AGAIN, but remembered at 8 PM tonight and threw them into the dryer. This is not a confession of slovenly housekeeping habits-I am usually fairly good at keeping up with laundry-but an indication of how busy we've been lately!

Flying (Grudgingly)

I've been feeling frustrated with clutter for quite some time now. I finally broke down and tried out Fly Lady, which several friends had recommended to me. The fact that so many people were telling me that I "just had to try this" made me reluctant to check it out. I know-I'm stubborn like that. Still, I signed up. I must say that sometimes the purple and pink theme and cheesy names for things (super fling boogie? rubba scrubba?) make me roll my eyes, but the concepts of doing projects a little at a time, and creating habits to help you stay organized are exactly what I need. The daily flood of email can be overwhelming, but the messages are so positive that I have to smile. The other day I gave in and shined my sink.

The big challenge now is to get rid of all the stuff we have around that we don't use and don't need.

My Future(istic) Baby-Friendly house

will also have baby generated power. Put the child in a hamster wheel-like structure, put something he wants in front of him, and let him go. Then, enjoy the energy.

I've also decided that babies need to be protected from not just walls, but all sharp corners. (J has yet another bump on his head after smacking into the corner of a chair ; ) So, for my futur(istic) baby-friendly house I will commission a special kind of paint which can be brushed on the edges of walls, tables, chairs, or anything potentially baby unfriendly. Of course, it will be virtually undetectable in order not to spoil the decor. Said undetectable paint will be able to sense impact of a certain magnitude. (Of course, you'll be able to buy the paint in different strengths according to your baby's age and bruise-ability.) Upon said impact, said paint will momentarily change the structure of said sharp corner. A wicked table edge, when bumped, will become soft and giving for just a few seconds-then fade slowly back to it's original solid state.

It is fun to come up with crazy gadgets-especially when they are completely imaginary and I don't have to make them plausible. This whole baby friendly house idea has caused me many musings about mothers' desires to protect their children, and how at some point protection becomes overprotection, which can hinder the child's growth. My musings have been very deep, philosophical and insightful. However, I'm not feeling deep, philosophical or insightful right now. So rather than recording my musings here, I will add this. Very clever, eh?

Mondegreens

I find it interesting when I mishear song lyrics. It seems like once I interpret what the words must be, I can’t figure out what they really are-even when my interpretation makes no sense. Then for some reason I hear the words clearly and say “Oh! That’s what it really says!” I did that today with a John Mayer song.

Only recently I figured out that in the Lonely Goatherd from The Sound of Music it says “What a DUET for a girl and goatherd.” I loved Sound of Music as a child and watched the Julie Andrews version until I had every song memorized. For some reason, though, I never realized what that word was. I think that’s because she says deeyoo-et in a British accent instead of doo-et the way we Yankees would.

The funniest misheard lyric story I know is told by my dad. He is a semi-pro singer and songwriter. One day my sister, who was probably six or seven at the time, came up to him as he was practicing for a gig. “Daddy, what’s a dorfling?” She wanted to know. He had no idea what she meant and no idea why she was asking him at that particular moment. Later he realized that he’d just sung a song that had the phrase “the door flings open wide.” My adorable sister thought he was singing about the "dorflings of the wild."

Apparently, misheard lyrics like this are called mondegreens. There are a couple of collections of them on the web. The best known archive is at kissthisguy.com It was pretty informative as well as entertaining. The funniest thing to me, though, was that the banner ad on the site was for a hearing aid!

My Future House

Someday I will design a babyfriendly house. The corners of the walls, while appearing exactly like the rest of the solid surface, will be soft enough not to create bruises when one smacks into them. The cupboards will require fingerprint scan. For parents they will open immediately. For babies they will stay securely closed. The floor will rotate-something like those cloth roller towels that are (not often any more) found in public bathrooms. However, the part of the floor that is not being used will be swept and mopped, or vacuumed depending on the type of floor covering.

Fangirl?

I really enjoyed going to WorldCon in Denver with B. I think I will have to write several posts on my reactions to it, because I have various thoughts on various topics running around in my brain that I want to explore. I wouldn't consider myself a Fan with a capital f. This was my first convention-unless you count the time when we were engaged and B got the Conduit people in Salt Lake to let me in free so I could hang out with him and go to his panel. I have been reading fantasy-and a little SciFi-for years, but mostly YA. The really famous authors at this convention were known only by name to me. I haven't yet read anything by Bujold, or Silverberg or Haldeman. I don't think fandom is in my nature. I've never written a letter to an author. Even in junior high school I didn't go ga-ga over boy bands. I never put posters of musicians or movie stars on my walls or in my locker. I surprised myself at this con, though. I managed to go all squee-ish (at least mentally) over meeting Patricia Wrede, Michelle West, and the Foglios, who write and illustrate Girl Genius. (I took pictures, I asked for signatures in my books, I gushed.) Maybe there is a little bit of fan girl in me after all.

Patricia C. Wrede ... and yours truely


Me and Michelle Sagara West

Standing Still

I had a really strange experience earlier this week. I came home from running, fed the baby, put him back in his bed and was standing in his doorway. Next thing I know I am lying on the floor, in pain, with blood pouring from a gash in my forehead. Apparently I passed out and hit my head on the corner of the crib. After a trip to the emergency room, a cat scan, an ECG, stitches, and two IV bags of fluid, they sent me home, saying I must just have been dehydrated. I am left with a black eye, and some lovely traintrack stitches that will probably leave a scar. Sigh. Such wounds can be badges of honor if one acquires them in a respectable way, saving the world comes to mind. It is really annoying to tell people that I got my battle wounds just standing still.

Momminess

A couple of years ago my sister and brother-in-law went on a cruise. B and I stayed at their house to take care of their one year old daughter. My sister left us a large, printed document with detailed instructions on how to care for her baby. She also called us every day to see how things were. She was tearful when they left, and I wondered if she'd miss her little girl too much to enjoy the trip. At the time I scoffed a bit at all these precautions. I thought, "Good grief, Rachel! I can handle this. I was changing diapers when you were born!"(Okay, not really. I am only three years older than she is. ;) Now, B and I are planning to go to Denver and leave J in Idaho with his grandma and aunt. I find myself worrying about how he will fare, and planning to type up a detailed document on how to best care for him. I know I will feel sad when we leave, and I hope I can enjoy the trip...This is only one of the few experiences where becoming a mom has caused me to "eat my words." Sigh.

Crazy J

J makes all kinds of interesting sounds. He can click his tongue. He smacks his lips. Lately he has begun buzzing his lips-a little like a mix between a trumpet player, and a motor boat. He has the most piercing high pitched scream which he emits when he is upset. His incisors came in before his front teeth, so he looks like a little baby vampire.

He does funny things too. He likes to slide things along the floor under his hands. It doesn't matter what the objects are-books, papers, toys, my cell phone, Tupperware lids-as long as they will slide, he will put each hand on something, and crawl along sliding his chubby mits along the floor.

Lately J has begun standing on his head. He doesn't put his legs up and balance in the air, of course, but he puts his head on the floor between his hands, and sticks his bum up in the air in his own version of down dog position. Any yoga teacher would be jealous of that kind of flexibility. We love our little guy!

Order From Chaos

The unfinished basement in our townhome, fondly known as the ghetto basement, has been very crowded and unorganized for many months now. This is frustrating to me as our place is small enough that adding a baby and a business has made things a little crowded. I've wanted to do something so that we could use the basement again for more than a storage dump. We talked about paying someone to finish the basement, but decided that we'd rather save our money because we'd like to move to a larger house some time in the not so distant future. So, instead I've been organizing and moving things around and getting rid of stuff we don't use. Soon I hope we'll have a decent place to watch movies, and for B to keep his Magic cards, and for me to set up the sewing machine. Hopefully we'll also be able to put some of the 2000 copies of MB1 down there so that our garage will be less crowded as well. I actually really enjoy doing a project like this. It is fun to turn a messy space into a place we can enjoy.

Moderation

Last week my friend Rachel and I picked up a Two Jack's pizza for dinner. Two Jack's is a little mom&pop place near us, and they make my favorite pizza ever. Since it was a celebratory dinner in honor of the end of school, we drank our A&W Rootbeer from champagne glasses. Both Rachel and I have been trying to eat more healthfully, so we each had some cheese bread and one slice of pizza. It was so good we each had another slice. We were both eyeing a third when I decided to throw moderation out the window. Rachel didn't need much convincing, and we ate the entire pizza. Two of us, one pizza, gone. It was strangely liberating. You know what they say, all things in moderation...even moderation.

bleh

As a kid it seemed to me that one of the jobs of adults was to "make" me do things I didn't want to do-chores, homework, put the book down, go to bed, you know how it is. I looked forward to the time when I would be an adult myself and no one could make me do any unwanted activities. Imagine my dismay when I discovered that as an adult I still have to do things I don't want to do, but I have to make myself do them. In fact, I end up doing more disagreeable tasks now then I ever did as a kid. Sigh.

Spring Cleaning

My mom had something she would often say when we were kids: A place for everything, and everything in it's place. It used to drive us nuts because, of course, it was usually followed by firm instructions about cleaning up our rooms. Many times since then I have seen the value of such advice. I've come to really enjoy organizing to make places for things. I don't always like putting things in their places quite as well, but I feel much more at peace in a tidy environment, so I do it. Recently I've realized that there are too few places for all the things in our home. B and I were both 30 when we married, and had accumulated quite a bit of stuff in our single lives. Adding all that comes with a business and a baby, and you have a lot of stuff! It is time for some of it to go. I often feel like "Spring cleaning" in April or May, I've discovered. I have begun this year with a "grand tossing-out" of stuff we don't need in order to make places for the stuff we actually use. J reminds me that I just have to take this project in small bites rather than diving in like I am want to do.

More Than I Can Chew

Sometimes I want to post on my blog, and I have all kinds of lengthy and eloquent thoughts, but not enough time to format them...so, I don't write anything. Sometimes I want to exercise, but I don't have time for a full-out hour long run...so I don't do anything. I need to clean the kitchen, but I don't have time right now for the good scrubbing that it is called for, so I put it off hoping for more time later. It will never come. Oh, I know that I have the same amount of time as everyone else, but I am still getting used to fitting other things in the pockets of time not spent on J. I don't begrudge the time I spend with J at all, in fact I quite enjoy it, but I'm finding that I often have to drop what I'm doing to care for him and come back to it later. Perfectionist Emily doesn't like this. She also doesn't like how SleepDeprived Emily forgets what she was doing before she stopped to care for the baby and never finishes it. She's just going to have to take a back seat, however. I'm learning that it is okay to "take smaller bites."

Interumperoo

J has a Jumperoo, which is basically a seat hanging from springs in a free standing frame. This, however, is not just your ordinary "stick the baby in so he can jump up and down" toy. It is a brightly colored, Fisher Price created, jungle themed, light flashing, music playing, toy covered, battery operated contraption. The thing takes up a large corner of our already small living room, and I would be annoyed by this if J didn't enjoy it so much. On one setting it silent until the baby jumps whereupon a snippet of a peppy tune will play and lights flash. On the other setting, a peppy tune plays continuously and the baby's jumping is marked by animal sounds. J will sit quietly and listen to the music, then bounce furiously up and down for a few seconds, so that it sounds like monkeys and elephants and tigers and birds are frantically trying to interrupt each other. It makes me laugh.

Tags

As I was folding the laundry the other day, I noticed I was ripping all the tags off my new dishtowels. I realized that this is standard procedure for me. Why does everything made of fabric come with a tag attached anyway? Is it illegal to sell something without a tag? I find them annoying. Tags on clothing are itchy. If a tag is sticking out the neck of my shirt in the back, inevitably someone will come tuck it back in, then pat me in a condescending way. I suppose washing instructions are helpful, but often after many washes, the words fade right off the tag and then you are left with a tiny flap of fabric that is useless except to stick out of your shirt and earn you condescending pats. The most annoying thing of all is large tags on small items. Each tiny stuffed bear hanging from the mobile on J's crib has not one, not two, but three tags flapping from its rear. The tags are bigger than the toys! I tried ripping them off, but they are sewn on tightly-much more so than those on my dishtowels which are now...tagless.