JEM Truly Outrageous

DC part 2

2011-10-09T18:26:00.001-04:00

Since I know you all dying from suspense...

M is for Metro. This is the name of DC's subway system. I was pretty nervous about how this was going to work with Jonathan. Especially since I was going to be by myself on Tuesday. But it couldn't have been easier. I don't have a lot of subway experience to compare this to, but it was stupidly easy. You find where you want to go, you look at the color you need to take you there. You look at the stop at the end of that line. et Voila! (sorry for the french again.) I mean, by the end Jonathan knew what to do. For example. Brad and Meghan live in Clarendon. Which runs on the orange line. And when we were in DC heading to their apartment, the last stop is Vienna. So you get to the station, look for the train that says Orange to Vienna. Then you count the stops until Clarendon.
Then you get off. Plus did I mention Jonathan LOVED it. I mean loved loved loved it. I cannot emphasize this enough. He would have been absolutely delighted to switch trains and ride the metro all day. Especially if we stopped to ride the escalators to the top every once in a while.

N is for Natural History Museum. This was the first stop of the whole trip. At this point I am still trying to get my bearings, and have little input (by my own choice) on the plans. I am basically just following everyone else. This is how I like to do vacation. I do not like to plan vacation. I just like to go on vacations. So we walk into this building that I assume is a museum, and started walking around. We were there for at least 45 minutes before I realized that I had no idea where we were. And for at least safety reasons, I should probably asked. Needless to say, Everette rolled his eyes. It is inconceivable that Everette would be anywhere for any amount of minutes and not know exactly where he was. Have I mentioned how different we are? Anyway, the Natural History museum was AMAZING!! We only made it through the rotunda. But we walked through room after room of beautiful, incredibly-realistic life-sized animals. Posed creatively. Meghan and I debated as we walked through, whether or not the animals were in fact real. Everette, Senor Smartypants, informed us, that they likely were not. Major buzzkill. I generally avoid taking pictures of things like this because there are a bazillion on the internet and they are usually better. So here are a few highlights from the world wide web, take note of the animals leaping and assuming very natural poses:

oh yeah, one thing I did take a picture of was a tower of giant disease molecules. diseases or epidemics that have had a large impact on people population. There was cholera, dysentery, HIV, influenza and some others. I thought it was super cool.

O is for Orangarangtang Pee. On Tuesday, Jonathan and I braved the Metro all by ourselves and Headed North to the Zoo. We'll save the rest of the zoo for later (Z is for...) but the highlight by far were the orangarangtangs (you get that that's what Jonathan calls them, right). They had an area in the Great Ape house, and in the middle of their yard was a giant tower, not too unlike those large metal power lines. There were two cables stretching across the sidewalk to another tower, and then another. They really resembled power lines (just call me Lady Redundant Woman-name that show). I noticed them earlier, curious as to what they were, but continued on. As we were marching up the hill, Jonathan noticed the orangarangtangs and wanted to stop and look at them again. I was all too happy to take a break. As soon as we stopped the youngest orangarangtang started climbing the tower. We grabbed a spot on a nearby bench to watch. The ape climbed higher and higher, and the two others followed. They climbed until they reached the top and walked out onto those two cables. Apparently, they are able to walk across the towers to another part of the zoo where they can hang out. Freaky! At this point two zoo staffers stood up and cleared the area underneath. They warned us that they commonly relieved themselves (both numbers) as they walked across. I believed them, but thought it unlikely we would witness it. Not so! The first orangarangtang stopped right over the sidewalk, and peed. Right in front of us. We were out of the splash zone, but it was an awesome sight to behold. Awesome, that is, if you are either a boy or the mother of a boy. Most of the girls screamed in horror. Of course, I have pictures (not of the peeing, don't worry).

This was seconds before the pee

P is for Pinkberry. Earlier I said there were two things I wanted to do. The Holocaust Museum and Pinkberry. Pinkberry is like the Starbucks of frozen yogurt.

It started in California, and when we went to New York last year, Brad and Meghan took us to one. I was in love. It was bright and cheerful. The Yogurt was this amazing blend of creamy yet still tart. The toppings were fresh. Fresh people.

Fresh strawberries. Fresh pineapple. Fresh kiwi. And any other number of toppings. We only made it there once in NYC. When I got home I started searching for the nearest one. It was in Nashville, I cried. But, I found out a new one opened up literally around the corner from Brad and Meghan's apartment. We went every night. It was amazing. And delicious. And I was so happy.
If you ever go. Get the original or the pomegranate with strawberries, pineapple and Cap'n Crunch, then sweetly ask them to sprinkle some yogurt chips on top. Pinkberry, please come to Purdue. Please.

Seriously, are they not totally adorable.

Q is for Question. Everette is a great person to have on a trip. I realized a long time ago, that Everette is a real live, walking, talking Search Engine. He is a wealth of information. I have started asking Everette to "google" things in his head. I think it's hilarious, I am not sure he does. When we go places, I just ask him random questions. At the air and space museum, I asked would point to things and ask him what they were. There was this giant flying bicycle contraption made out of saran wrap hanging from the ceiling. We weren't close enough to read the sign, but I asked Everette. He of course knew exactly what it was (the Gossamer Condor), and rattled off a bunch of facts about it, including that it flew across the English Channel, which when asked, he knew exactly how many miles across it was.

Doubtful, Meghan and I went over to verify. We read the sign, and it said nothing about the English Channel. We exchanged smug self-satisfied looks. Then as we walked away, I saw at the very bottom in tiny letters, that this particular craft crossed the English Channel (21 miles). I leaned over to Meghan, and said, "Never question Everette, he is usually right."

R is for Rain. It rained every day we were there,except Tuesday. Tuesday it was bright and sunny and beautiful. Not a violent rain, but enough to be slightly annoying. Thankfully, with the exception of Saturday, it was mainly in the afternoon, and we were able to do almost everything we wanted to do.

S is for Segway. I want one. S is also for Starbucks. It makes me happy.


I think this pictures is hilarious! Compounded by the fact, that I have that exact stroller.

T is for Tidal Basin. Monday we spend the morning walking around the Tidal Basin and its surrounding monuments.

Meghan had to go back to work, so it was me and the three stooges. who walk like their pants are on fire. So this was my view for most of the morning. I've definitely seen worse.

Having seen most of them before, it wasn't very revelational, but we had a good time. Two noteworthy things... this is irony: FDR hated being seen in his wheelchair. He went to great lengths to avoid public appearances in it. How is he portrayed at his memorial? In his wheelchair.


Brad, with FDR's dog. The dog was life-sized. For real. You don't believe me?

The second, we walked through the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial. It was neat. I had one of those moments when you look at a piece of art and it doesn't really make sense, and then all of a sudden, it clicks and you have a whole new appreciation. The MLK monument is mainly three large pieces. Two on the outside that basically look like a giant rock. A rock that looks like rock, impressive right? Then in the middle like a wedged chopped out and thrust forward is MLK standing, cut out of the rock, Mount Rushmore style. Are you moved by my description, rock, and more rock, no metal accents, no color, just carved rock. As you come around the side of MLK there is a quote carved into the side of the rock, "Out of the mountain of despair, a stone of hope." Powerful imagery, no? As you stepped back to look at the statue, you notice the opening serves as the entrance of the monument. And at the moment I looked back, a large group of people poured out through that valley. It was pretty amazing.

U is for Umbrella Stroller. When we were planning for our trip, we decided we would definitely need a stroller, and the ones we had were bulky, and heavy. So I decided to call out to my network of moms and beg for handouts. My good friend, Amber offered her umbrella stroller. I was skeptical, because umbrella strollers generally are painfully too short for us. But I figured I could at least check it out. It is a Maclaren. Which, if you didn't know is the mac daddy of umbrella strollers. It pretty much rocked my world. And will the the next stroller purchase I ever make. This stroller, saved my life. and my sanity.

He is smiling, in case you were confused.

V is for Vernon. Mt Vernon. Our Sunday morning outing. It was pretty fun. The property was beautiful. The gardens were amazing.

Aside from seeing the bed George Washington died in, the dung repository was my personal favorite. Because who calls a pile of crap, a dung repository (also, you must say this with an terrible British accent)?

By the way did you know that George Washington died in 1799? Everette did.

Umm... Jonathan was a little squirrelly at Mt Vernon.

W is for Whole Foods. Brad and Meghan also lived down the street from Whole Foods. Monday evening, I decided to make dinner for everyone, so I justified an excursion to check out the place. I had mixed feelings. The atmosphere was very pleasant, and the variety of cheeses would blow your mind. But I was seriously disappointed that they didn't have any zucchini or fresh oregano. Who runs out of those?

X is for x-o- skeleton. Ok that was a stretch. But at the zoo they had an invertebrate exhibit, featuring a lot of cool sea creatures. Including a tank of Nautiluses (Nautili?) swimming around. Something not cool? The giant display of UNCAGED spiders you had to walk through to get out of the building.

Y is for Yum! Sunday Morning we ate breakfast at the Silver Diner. I had a seriously fantastic omelet. The California (chicken, montery jack cheese, avacado, black bean salsa, etc.) So good. Then I drank two cups of coffee. Then I made Brad stop at a Krispy Kreme fifteen minutes from Mount Vernon because I told him I was going to pee in his fancy car, if he didn't. Then he said, I should have gone before we left the diner. Then I told him I did, but I still had to pee really bad. He said he wasn't worried, because his seats were leather. Then I said I was pregnant, then the car got really quiet and everyone turned to look at me, then I said, that I was once pregnant, and once you are pregnant your bladder is permanently damaged, and when you have to pee, it feels like someone is sitting on you. Then Meghan said she had to pee too, and he pulled over, because he is in love, and sometimes being in love makes you compromise your bathroom principles (Everette stops to let me pee too). But there was only one women's toilet so I had to thumbwrestle Meghan for it. And I peed in my pants a little. (no I didn't, yes I did. No I really didn't). And the worst part, is they weren't even serving Hot and Now doughnuts. I told Brad that I was going to get a giant coffee. He thinks I am really funny.

This is me and Jonathan in the back of Brad's car. Not the pee episode. this was about 10:30 one night on our way back to the hotel. Thus the crazy look.

Z is for Zoo. The zoo, was a series of disappointments and impressive saves. The zoo, is really a beautiful park. It is however built on the side of a hill. We began at the top. It was a straight shot down, but it was a dead end. So after seeing everything, we (I) trudged ourselves to the top of the hill, tired and hungry, and several blocks from the metro station. The zoo itself was free, but the map was $2.00. Really not, that big of a deal, except we were halfway through the zoo before we found a kiosk selling them. After spending a good ten minutes trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive pandas in their exhibit, we rounded the corner to discover they were inside in the observation area. A sign would have been nice. We walked into the great ape house to find it empty. But emerged to find a family of gorillas eating and grooming in the outdoor display. It was pretty amazing. Amazing! The animals were all pretty active, and it was a beautiful day. We saw a tiger jump up against the doors of his area, like he wanted in. Like Max does... times 100. The dude was huge, and powerful. We saw a pride of lions, eating and playing with each other. With the big daddy lion keeping watch.

But most impressive was my ability to navigate us there and back with no help and without getting lost or taking any wrong turns. Yes, I am patting myself on the back.

There it is, the weekend by way of the alphabet.
Thanks again to Brad and Meghan for hanging out with us, and just being so darn amazing.

We love you!

Home: The Final Descent.

Washington D. C. An Alphabet Lesson- Part 1

2011-10-08T21:18:00.003-04:00

This last weekend, we (me, Everette and Jonathan) trekked across the country to the great, non-state self-governing entity of Washington, District of Columbia. Really, columbia? Why people? I attempted to research this fact but the answers I found were unsatisfactory, and boring. So let's move on.
The trip was business and pleasure. Everette's brother recently moved to the city and Everette goes there 3-4 times a year for business. Some grand meeting, where they sit and listen to people talk all day, about mail of all things. Apparently it's worth it in the end, because there is free beer. Free, only if you don't value your time, and any brain cells that died that day.
You may not be surprised to learn that Everette was beyond excited when he learned he brother was relocating to the Capital City. If you have ever been to D.C. you know it is overflowing with historical monuments, museums, billions and billions of plaques to read, and they are almost all... FREE. A virtual mecca for all those uber nerds with a lockdown on their wallet. Thus you can now understand my husband's pleasure. Like I said to Brad this weekend. "D.C. is a place where Everette can come and get his nerd on without spending any money."

Anyway, we had a magnificent time. Which I will now recount to you, using the alphabet.

A is for Airplane. This was Jonathan's first ever airplane ride. It was fantastic. He loved it. He wasn't scared, and had a lovely time looking at the "christmas lights" out the plane window. And I had a great time, because on our return flight (that departed at 9:25 PM) as the flight attendant was picking up the last round of trash, looked at me with a genuine smile and said, "You have a very well behaved little boy." And I figured, if anyone would know, she would.

B is for Bicycle. Let's just get this out of the way now, none of these are in any sort of chronological order. Brad, inspired by his brother's recent athletic accomplishment (this may not be true, but since it's my blog, that is what I am sticking with) has been thinking about getting a bicycle to take to work.He and Everette have been trading emails, but on Sunday afternoon in between football games while Jonathan was napping, Brad and Everette walked down to the bike store to check things out. The next day they went back and Brad purchased a bicycle.

C is for Carseat. Jonathan is old enough now, that the amount of special equipment needed to travel with him is minimal. He can sleep in a regular bed. He uses regular underwear. He can sit in a regular chair... but he still needs a carseat. We planned mostly to take the Metro where a seat wasn't needed, but if we were to ride in Uncle Brad's car we would need at least a booster. Brad and Meghan graciously agreed to find one for us, and as I suspected, they actually just bought one. So when we met Brad at the airport in his super fancy Audi A4 with leather seats, there was a booster seat in the back and present waiting for Jonathan. He was even kind enough to let Jonathan have a drink in the backseat. Uncle Brad is the best.


Super Daddy

D is for Daddy. We have to give a major shout out to daddy, who made this trip possible. Everette goes to DC for work once a quarter. He usually leaves Monday evening and returns LATE Tuesday. But he looked at his airline points and his hotel points and thought he could swing two tickets and a few extra hotel nights. So we got to spend a long weekend with Uncle Brad and Meghan. So thanks Daddy for all of your hard work, and taking all those business trips so we could have a fun weekend.

E is for Escalator. As parents, we were talking up the airplane ride as some great milestone in Jonathan's life, and while he enjoyed it, it was nothing compared to the escalators and elevators he got to ride on. And another big thanks to Uncle Brad for encouraging Jonathan to push every button in the elevator EVERY time we got in. This is what uncles are for n'est pas? (sorry, I don't know what possessed me to bust out some french right there).


Uncle Brad and Meghan

F is for Fairfield Inn. So despite Everette's massive hotel points, and Brad and Meghan's amazing hotel connections to two different hotel chains, the best deal we could come up with was a room at the Fairfield Inn in Chinatown. Don't get me wrong, it was a nice hotel. Recently renovated. Clean. near the metro. Free Breakfast!! But it was a single room with a king and a pull out. Which meant that every night we put Jonathan to bed and then hid in the bathroom until he went to sleep. On the downside, tile and granite are not comfy or cozy. But on the plus side, I think I managed to locate and remove every freak hair on my face. Sorry, too much. But I am just keeping it real.

G is for Giant Squid. And I mean giant. On Saturday we went to the Natural History museum and the had a real preserved giant female squid. It was freaky! And giant. And amazing. And did I mention giant. And as it turns out even though it was giant, it was not fully developed

H is for Holocaust Museum. When our amazing trip planner, Meghan Houlihan asked what we wanted to do, I only had two things on my list. One of them was the Holocaust Museum. But I was pretty certain I did not want to take my four year old son, for a number of reasons. So after a morning of museums Brad and Meghan agreed to take Jonathan back to their apartment so we could go. I am not sure what I was expecting, but it was pretty amazing, and pretty intense. There was a lot of reading. Here are a few things of note. There were probably a couple hundred people walking through the exhibit with us, and it was almost completely silent. There was a tower in the middle of the exhibit that you could walk through on two levels and it was filled from top to bottom with photographs. They were all taken in the same town by a family of photographers. The town (I can't remember the name) was largely jewish and the photos were taken before the war. THey were just pictures of families and friends living life. It was very powerful to see all of these happy faces of real people that lived and breathed, and almost an entire town that was wiped out. I could go on and on and maybe someday I will, but just two more things. There was a room, almost completely full of shoes. Shoes of people who were gassed in the concentration camps. There were so many shoes. It was so tangible, and so real. You could smell the aging leather. It was very powerful. And written in the lobby of the museum before you go in, Isaiah 43:10 "You are my witnesses."

I is for Isabelle. Isabelle is Meghan's dog (and I think Brad claims her too most days). She is a tiny lhasa apso. As far as tiny dogs go, she is pretty cute. Jonathan loved her. He was constantly trying to play with her, corral her, and pester her. She was mildly terrified. But it kept Jonathan pretty occupied.

J is for Jonathan. Jonathan was amazing on this trip. He was phenomemal on the airplane, in the subway, on the sidewalks. He was the picture of the perfect child. Especially since he was never in bed before 10 PM and he was always up before 8 AM. He was really great, which made the trip great for everyone. Jonathan the super trooper.

K is for Kapleece Car. Everywhere we turned there were police cars and ambulances. Jonathan, was in transportation heaven. Including a police blockade Saturday night that made it impossible for us to reach our hotel by car. We had to get out and walk it the last two blocks. Who loves the Big City?!

L is for Luggage. Before we left Everette told me that we could check two bags for free. Sweet! Especially since the forecast was cold and rainy. Which means, when you are staying in a hotel, you have to bring lots of pairs of jeans, and warm clothes in case you get wet and muddy. Which equals two large HEAVY suitcases. To my credit, all of our stuff was in two large suitcases and one carry-on backpack. Everette was only moderately embarrassed to be seen with us.

Stay tuned it gets better I promise..
I will give you a little preview...

O is for Orangorangtang pee...

Coming out of Hiding

2011-09-20T21:25:00.000-04:00

Hey Everybody!
I just wanted to let you know that I was a juror on a high profile criminal case all summer and I was sequestered. I was banned from communicating with the outside world.
Really...
really.

So today is Jonathan's birthday and I plan on posting about that, but before that happened I had to write about this. This was worth coming out of seclusion for.

Last spring, when the weather was warm, Everette and I got our bikes out and started riding them. And decided that we actually liked it. Everette and I move at different paces, both physically and mentally. Everette is full speed on everything, and I am more like the three-toed sloth. So we have difficulty finding activities, other than sitting on our butts watching television, that we enjoy doing together. But as it turns out, strapping forty pounds plus to the back of Everette's bike (read: Jonathan) adds enough drag for my slow lazy butt to keep up. SO we spent the summer scouting different bike paths around the state and braving the county roads near our house.
This got Everette thinking... thinking he might like to do... a triathlon.
A what?
I know. crazy right.
So he did some research, and found out Mississinewa state park does a sprint triathalon in early September. He debated, but eventually signed up.

He spent the summer training.
Here are some highlights from his training.
1. He decided going on a 25 mile bike ride with an impending hailstorm in the dark, was a good idea. As it turns out, it was not. I came home at 8:30PM to find him sprawled out on the bed, unable to move. He almost died, from stupidity.

2. In an effort to train his body to perform well in any circumstance, he regularly went out to run or ride in the blistering, sweltering, scorching, disgusting heat of the day. I mean off the charts heat (remember July, people). He would come back and collapse into a sweaty heap on the floor. He almost died, from stupidity.

3.My job was to funnel iced blue Gatorade down his gullet while he laid there until he recovered. He repaid me in hugs. Full-contact, stinky, sweaty, body hugs; requiring a complete change of clothing. Jonathan,and Everette both thought this was hilarious. Everette almost died, from stupidity.

4. Whenever possible, Jonathan was his running companion, which meant he rode in the jogger sipping juice boxes, yelling, "faster! faster! Daddy!"

5. We saved a lot of money on hot water, as there were a lot of cold showers this summer.

6. Everette dropped 30+ pounds and what we saved in water, we made spent on new clothes. But it is worth it, because he is seriously looking sexy.

Two weekends ago, was the big day.
We packed up a crapload of camping gear and headed to Peru for an overnight campout. We set up the camper and two seconds later, the heavens opened and the left over tropical storms dumped buckets on us, as we tried to remember how to set up the awning. Everette sacked out early, and I stayed up stupidly late, reading a book and relishing the quiet.
We woke early, and made breakfast, anxious to see what the day would bring.
The afternoon before as we drove the bike route, I told Everette he had two additional goals to add to his one, of finishing under 2 hours.
They were: 1. do not die. 2. do not get injured.
To which he replied, "what do you mean, injured?"
I said, "I don't care if you are sore, I mean, not requiring medical attention."
His response: "Ok, I will not seek medical attention."
I said, "not funny."

at early o'clock in the morning, Everette went to the transition area, and set up all his gear. I followed with Jonathan, and then proceeded to stand around nervously for the next hour.

Meanwhile his parents and my mom showed up.

at 8:30 the race started, in the lake, it was chilly outside.

This is Everette's sexy anklet, it tracked his time, that way if he didn't come out of the water in an hour they would go in looking for him.

The wrote his number on his arm and leg (125) in sharpie, but on his calf, they wrote his age. We aren't sure why, but I am guessing it has to do with medical treatment, in the event you should collapse. Everette is 30!!!!

A lovely silhouette Everette's new hot bod!

Right before the gun. Everette is right next to that giant red ball!

Everette was in the fourth wave. so at 8:38 the gun went off and he started swimming. 11 minutes later he emerged onto the shore in 48th place. Not bad.

He trudged up the hill barefooted and soaking wet to the transition area to pull on socks, shoes, and jersey and other bike gear.

After a 16 mile bike ride he arrived back to dismount and change shoes.
Thus beginning the end.
Many of you know that Everette is a pretty decent swimmer. The dude looks like he would sink to the bottom, but he has some serious power in the water. Like he currently holds the backstroke record at Harrison High School. So we weren't too worried about the 500 M swim.
And since Everette had repeatedly trained 25+ miles on his bike, we were pretty certain he could accomplish that portion.
This left the running. There is something about the way God designed Everette's body that is contrary to running. When Everette starts running, his body kicks on his internal furnace full blast. The dude, get's hot. More than once he started out on a run, and only made it a few miles because, is body just crapped out, and he stopped sweating and overheated and occasionally puked.
And while he managed to accomplish the distance required during training, his time was slow, and environmental factors were extremely influential.
So this was the nail-biting portion.

We (my family and I) positioned ourselves near the finish line to wait.
Knowing Everette ran about a 9 and half minute mile I rounded to 10 and did some mental calculations (not my forte). I watched and I waited. I was pretty confident Everette would be ok, because he trained well, and it was a pretty cool day. Low to mid 70's. Not like the 105 heat index he trained in.
But still, I had images of him lying in some bushes passed out awaiting medical attention.
But right on time I saw his bearded face, round the corner. He made it.

This is as good of a finish line shot as I was willing to risk. I didn't want to miss him crossing trying to take a picture.

His official time was one hour forty-five minutes fifty-nine seconds. And he placed 147 out of 241. Not bad I say. Sixth out of 18 in his division. Mission accomplished.
And what is more, he looked and felt good. I mean, I saw some people cross the finish line, and they did NOT look good. Not at all. Not even one little bit.

Everette post-race. Still standing!

To show him just how proud I was, I gave him a full body contact hug, even though I didn't have a change of clothes. And I didn't even mind.

Everette trudging back to the parking lot to load up all the crap.

Just to show you really how good he was feeling, after a nap, we packed up the camper, headed home, unloaded the camper, and Sunday we took our bikes to Prophetstown for a bike ride and a picnic.

Breaking the Silence

2011-04-24T12:27:00.000-04:00

I know, I know.
And you are going to hate me even more when your realize I have no real content.
So today is Easter.
I took Jonathan home after church so he could nap and found myself on the Internet with a few moments to spare.
I came across this video.

The moment I started watching, my eyes started rolling and my uncool radar was going off the charts.
That was twenty minutes ago, and I have watched it four times and every time I watch it I cry harder and sooner. And when I am done writing this, I am going to watch it again.

Yes, the voice-over is melodramatic, and the lady dancing with the scarf is cliche. Yes you could tell exactly what was going to happen the moment you click play. Yes, it is obvious the people in the background are going to suddenly "spontaneously" start dancing, in their bright multi-colored, yet still random looking shirts.
Yes, everyone thinks flash mobs are cool, and it was only a matter of time until Christians got their claws into it. I like to think I am cooler than other Christians. I like to keep it below the radar. I don't wear oversized t-shirts with giant praying hands on them. And I tend to think people who do are, well, annoying.
So the moment I started watching the video and heard the cheesy christian techno. I groaned inwardly, and watched with my eyes poised to roll and deep patronizing sighs ready. But then, as I watched the awkward and non-uniform choreography something happened. I started seeing the faces of the people dancing. It was different. It was sincere, and there was great joy. Then I began to see the diversity in the crowd, not just racially, but in age, and personality. But they were all united, under One Name. I could see people I knew (not literally) but people I could identify with. And I began to see, just maybe, just maybe what heaven will be like. When we dance, all of us. Those with rhythm, those without, the young, the old. All of us, together. And then I started crying. Especially when I saw the old lady and the old man dancing. Maybe because it's Easter, or maybe not.
So hopefully, you can enjoy it, without all the criticism, but if you're like me, try to get past the first minute and a half, and see if you can't just get past your cynicism.

2 Corinthians 5:13
"If it seems we are crazy, it is to bring glory to God. And if we are in our right minds, it is for your benefit."

Rendered Useless

2011-03-10T23:28:00.000-05:00

Tuesday Jonathan had a severe hand injury. So severe it rendered his entire arm useless.
There were tears. There was blood. It was gory.
It all started when I sent Jonathan upstairs to get his shoes on. I know what was I thinking right?
After several moments of waiting, I ventured upstairs to check on him.
I found him, dinking around in his room. When I walked in, he looked at me and tears welled up in his eyes.
"Mommy, I hurrrrted my fingerrrr" (Jonathan is really getting into his 'r's lately)

"Jonathan, what happened?"
Leaning over to pick up a book on the floor, he looked at me and said, "the book hurrted me, the book hurrrted my fingerrrr."

This is the offending book.

Taking his wound in my hand, I assessed the situation. It was indeed a paper cut. There was indeed blood. The cut was right in the crease of the thumb join, and it was deep, I mean I could see sinews (ok, maybe not, since I don't actually know what sinews look like, and it really wasn't that deep, but people always say they could see the sinews, in a really bad injury).

Like any good mother, I took him to the bathroom to clean the wound.
After cleaning the cut, I realized it was still bleeding, requiring a band-aid.
Again, being the super-spectacular amazing mother that I am I was prepared. I had Curious George Band-Aids.

Jonathan was uhhh... rather resistant to the band-aid. But since I am the mother of a three-year-old I am becoming quite skilled in the art of calf-tying.

So I was able to pin him down and strap on the band-aid.
Then something amazing happened. The moment Curious George wrapped his cute little monkey face

around my son's injured thumb, his entire hand became useless.

His thumb was straight out perpendicular to the rest of his hand. His fully functioning four other fingers were wrapped in an imaginary splint, unbending.
His wrist was instantly immobilized.
Suddenly, Jonathan could not bend his elbow to put his sleeve through his jacket. And let's not even discuss what happened when his thumb reached the elastic wrist on the jacket sleeve. Have you ever seen terror in a child's eyes? Think Blair Witch project people (I shouldn't say that, because I have never really seen that movie).

He could no longer hold things in his hand, or even brace himself on the potty (this is especially dangerous).

And of course once his doting parents realized his plight, we began to tease him mercilessly. Handing him things he asked for in front of the injured hand.
To which Jonathan would cry out, "NO Daddy, my haAAND!!" "My hand is hurrted!"
Everette relentlessly tried to hold his hand, the rigid rigor mortis like hand. When Everette grasped his hand, Jonathan, gingerly, yet persistently slid Everette's thumb over so that there was a clear space for Jonathan's protruding thumb to poke through.
This paralysis lasted for two full days (minus the times he was so engrossed in what he was doing, he plumb forgot), until the wound at last was healed enough to remove the band-aid. And life has returned to normal. Whatever that means.

My apologies

2011-02-22T00:57:00.001-05:00

My sincerest apologies to those of you living in the greater Lafayette area.
This recent disgusting weather we are having, my fault.
I seriously contemplated putting our winter coats away for the season.
My bad.
Isn't that Murphy's law or something? or something...
Lets all be thankful I didn't actually put them away.
And by the way, as a peace offering, I leave you with this....

A Taste of Spring

2011-02-18T23:16:00.000-05:00

I was not anxious for warm weather. If we had to spend all of February snuggled up warm and cozy inside, while outside the world was under a blanket of snow, I would be delighted.
It isn't until I get a taste of spring that I start hungering for more.
Sunday... was tasty.
In fact, it was delicious. It was sunny and warm and glorious.

So glorious, that the Mills clan decided to head out for a walk.

In only our jackets. Our jackets people.okay okay maybe our mittens too.
It was fantastic.
Spring was in the air, and it made me want more.

Except I live in Indiana and the last great ice storm came in March. So I can't get my hopes up.
But we had a great time on Sunday... and I took pictures...

Copy Cat

2011-02-17T22:36:00.000-05:00

Everette has a blog, did you know that? A lot of the time, it is full of techno jargon, and nerdy stuff. Because Everette, is a big nerd. Don't worry, he knows that. That is what I love about him.
Anyway, he posted something recently and it is super duper cute, and about Jonathan so I am just going to send you over there to read it.

Lost in Translation

2011-02-16T21:59:00.001-05:00

It all started with my mother (I am really starting to like saying that).
I have been translating for people all my life.
In fact I spend a great deal of my time translating for people.
Growing up, my mom in conversations with other people, tended to leave large details out of her conversations. Frequently, when I was around, I would step in, summarize what she was saying and explain it to the person on the otherside of the conversation with the extremely confused look on his face.

Sometimes when I am standing next to Everette, I hear him say something... odd. Then I feel the need to jump in and translate.

I cannot even begin to count how often I translate for Jonathan.

Recently, I was sitting at the table eating lunch with Jonathan. He was eating a turkey sandwich and peeled apple slices. He picked up an apple that was brown and spotty and said "desssskunk"
I asked him to repeat.
"deskunn" he said emphatically holding the apple.

Admittedly I was stumped.

"deskunn"
the skunk"? I asked.

No "desskunn"
"disgusting"? I asked...
"yeah"
"uhhh ok"

We continue munching our turkey and non-"deskunn" apples.
He picks up the same apple slice and says with great emphasis..."DesKUNNN"
I stare blankly until it dawns on me...
the "SKIN"!!!!
The apple skin! Jonathan is "deathly allergic" to apple skins. even the sight of an apple skin get's his gag reflex going. The boy cannot stand the sight of an apple skin.

Deskunn
The skin

Mystery solved.

For your listening ears

2011-02-15T20:55:00.001-05:00

We interrupt your normally scheduled brainless dribble for a music break.
More and more, I am less impressed with artists as a whole. I am uninclined to actually buy an album that I love from the first song to the last. I am more pick and choosey.
Although... I still love anything Avett Brothers

This cafeteria style especially applies to Christian music...
But here are a few I am loving recently...

Christ is Risen-Matt Mahar

This song was inspired from this homily by John Chrysostom, it might be familiar to some of you.

I am New-Jason Gray

I do not know this guy, but I am digging this song...sorry for the advertisement at the beginning, barf.

Children of God-Third

It has been awhile since Third Day did anything I was REALLY excited about, but those kids at the end, are adorable... I am trying to figure out a way to do this at church.

Glorious Day-Casting Crowns

I have mixed feelings about this song... I love the lyrics, but it is a little "moody radio" if you know what I mean.

What Love Really Means-JJ Heller

ok so the first time I heard this song was early in the morning when I was getting ready for church, and I cried like a baby, then made Everette listen to it later that day.
I might actually say that I like her. This was her first single, and I loved it, we'll see how the rest goes.

No need to thank me, just doing my part.

My Pastor the Superhero

2011-02-10T23:44:00.001-05:00

This is my pastor.

Dan S. Teefy (the "S" stands for Smokin' in case you were wondering...)

Please ignore the slightly cheesy smile. He is cursed with a generally cheery disposition, and he just can't help himself.

You might think I am being silly or exaggerating, but he really is a superhero. He has real super powers.

For one he can fly....

For two (yes, I really said "for two")

He drank from the fountain of youth, and while he appears to be in his early thirties he is really 65, a nice respectable age for a pastor. Alright, he is in his early thirties, but he definitely has the wisdom of a 65 year-old.

For threes (now I am pluralizing, you might want to sit down),
He has an indestructible immune system (his words, not mine).

For fours, He is a super dad.

His girls are 8 parts adorable, and 12 parts crazy adorable.
And they have super powers too.

For Fives
He married Wonderwoman (who happens to be quite possibly the very best friend I have ever had in my entire life--sisterS excluded of course).

He will also freely admit that he used his super stealth power to stalk her (in the most UNcreepiest way) across the campus of Illinois University to woo her with his Super charm.

This is their actual wedding photo. How do do you resist a man dressed like that.

For Sixes
And I think this is probably the most important. He will do your personal shopping for you.

SuperDan was in Chicago for a superhero convention, under the guise of our Denomination's Midwinter Conference. He will tell you they talked about church politics but I know they were practicing burning things with their laser beam eyes and bending steel with their super strength.
Anyway below is an email Wonderwoman sent out to fifty of her closest friends last week while SuperDan was away.

Hey ladies.
My husband is going to ikea tomorrow around 1pm. If there is anything (within reasonable size) that you would like him to pick up for you call him @ xxx-xxx-xxxx (did you really think I would give out the personal cell phone number of a real honest to goodness superhero?)

Sooo. She offered, and I called. I left Dan a message that sounded something like this...
Hello, you have reached the voiceBOX of Dan Tee.fey....

"Heeeyy Dan, I don't know if you know this, but your wife sent out an email offering your personal shopping services. uhh.. If you're cool with that, there is something I want from IKEA. But it isn't a big deal and don't spend a ton of time looking for it. blah blah blah." (any of you who have ever received a phone message from me knows it definitely did NOT sound like that, because I sound like a babbling idiot on people's voiceboxes. And when I say "babbling idiot", I mean I sound just like my mom. Seriously, I have left messages for family members that began with..."Hi, it's Megan, sooo this is going to be a Susan message, so I am really sorry, but, blah blah blah." Sorry mom, you know I love you! And just as an aside, aside for anyone who might be concerned that I just called my mom a babbling idiot, I will bet you five million dollars that when she reads this part she will laugh so hard that she cries and falls out of her chair, and she will then go on to read it to every single person she knows. My mom has been known to read my blog to strangers at parties.)

So anyway, back to SuperDan. Like any great superhero he rose to the occasion, because he loves a challenge, and he loves people. He is cool like that. And also for the record, he had no idea that Wonderwoman even sent that email out. Of course the one item I wanted was impossible to find, that even his x-ray vision was useless. He scoured and he searched for hours, he descended into the bowels of IKEA just for me (I am sure there is a sermon analogy in there somewhere). He went into the bowels of IKEA, and returned victorious! He drove home through treacherous road conditions (last week was Snowpacalypse, remember) to deliver, safely, my six white ceramic pots. I told you, it was really important.

So Thank you SuperDan. For everything. Everything you do, everything you are. And for trading in your superhero cape to lead our church with humility, and wisdom, and compassion. And mostly dragging your wife's sorry butt all the way over here to Indiana, so we could stay out late and eat pie!

A worthwhile thought

2011-02-04T22:21:00.001-05:00

Every once in a while I come across something, I feel is worth repeating.. And since I have this blog, I am repeating it here. And since you were foolish enough to click on the link, you have to read it.

This is from a Bible Study I am currently in....

"...true conviction doesn't look for loopholes, and it isn't sad. Of course, we may feel grief when parting with something we enjoy, but if true conviction is present we will begin to look at that thing as something that was taking the place of God, something that was stealing from us. As we rid it from our lives we will be hopeful with anticipation, anxious to see what God will do in this newly-created space. We will not look for loopholes. We will be resolved. We will know that we are in a position to gain, not to be stolen from any longer."
-Kelly Minter
No Other Gods

Something to think about.

Surviving Snowmageddon

2011-02-03T21:05:00.000-05:00

It is 8:30 PM and Everette is on the phone still working. A rarity even for him.
Jonathan is in bed, and dinner is cleaned up....mostly.
So I thought I would leave you a few tips on how to survive the BLIZZARD OF THE CENTURY: a.k.a SNOWMAGEDDON a.k.a. SNOWPACALYPSE

1. Go to the store and buy every egg carton on the shelf, 10 gallons of milk, and 12 pkgs of Double Suff Oreo Cookies (to go with the milk).

2. Check the weather for updates every 3 minutes.

3. Check the real time weather updates (i.e. look out the window).

4. Prance around your house yelling, "the blizzard is coming! the blizzard is coming!"

5. Realize it is possible that the power might go out. Check to make sure outward facial expressions reflect the solemnity of the situation. Squeal with delight, inwardly. The power might go out!

6. Begin to frantically do laundry in case the power goes out.

7. Strip your bed to wash your sheets, the pray that the power doesn't go out... until your sheets are dry and back on your bed.

8. Begin to fill jugs of water, because the power MIGHT go out!

9. Bathe yourself and your entire family, because the power might go out!

10. Sit and listen to the sleet pelt your window.

11. Peer out your window every 5 minutes to check if the snow fall has reached catastrophic levels,and wonder when the power is going to go out.

12. Slump your shoulders in disappointment because it NEVER reaches catastrophic levels.

13. Remember that you live in Indiana and snow storms are NEVER as bad as predicted.

14. Sigh. blow out your candle (that you lit, in case the power went out) and slink off to bed in your warm toasty fully powered house, because you know you have to shovel your driveway tomorrow.

15. Head outside the next morning to assess the situation... quickly realize you are standing on TOP of 4 inches of sleet and snow. on TOP of it people. It was like walking on a snow cone.

16. Put your shovel down to make that first cut across your driveway.

17. Fall on your butt because you completely underestimated the fact that the sneet (snow and sleet, people) is glued to your driveway, and it weighed 12 tons.

18. Go whine to your husband, who doesn't get a snow day because he works from home, that your back hurts and you can't shovel the driveway because it's too hard.

19. Sit inside all warm and cozy (because the power didn't go out) while your husband breaks up the sneet with a jackhammer and crowbar.

20. Feel guilty because he has a bad back too, and go out and help.

21. Regret not putting on a sports bra, because this is some serious cardio.

22. Feel triumphant because you and your husband with two snow shovels and a snub nosed regular shovel shoveled out your much longer driveway before your neighbor (who even started before you) did with his fancy pants snow blower.

23. Go back inside, drink 12 cups of hot chocolate (and 2 packages of Oreo cookies) and never leave the house for the next 3 days, it is Snowmageddon after all.

24. Open the fridge and wonder what in the crap you are going to do with all those eggs.

25. Go to the store because you are out of milk, and oreos.

2011-01-27T15:53:00.000-05:00

This.

This is Diet Dr Pepper Chocolate Milk Water. It is the newest hottest trend in America's quest for hydration.

It's delicious... sort of...
You might think, wow that's a weird combo. How do you get Diet Dr Pepper Chocolate Milk Water?

Easy.
Allow me to explain.

First, you give birth to a boy. You instill in this boy a love for all acceptable forms of liquid hydration. Then, you fill up his Nalgene bottle with chocolate milk (you do this, even though it is early in the morning, because you are trying to get out the door without the beginning of World War III, and you justify it because you are absolutely planning on stopping at Starbucks for a latte).
Then, you take the boy on a road trip. To O'Hare to drop your brother-in-law off to board a plane bound for Spain (where he plans to be a world famous matador).

Then you let your son watch "bideos" the whole way up. Then you turn directly around and head back to Lafayette. And you suddenly realize, that this is not really a short trip to Chicago, it is really an all day 6 hour journey.
Then you let your son fall asleep in the car, which he does, and you are happy for one hour. Then you realize that you drank 700 ounces of Diet Dr Pepper and you have to pee.

So you try to stop gradually hoping he will stay asleep... No luck.

It is 15 minutes later when you realize that you must have left your son back at the gas station, and instead strapped a screeching howler monkey into his seat, you cry a little inside.

You refuse to let him watch any more "DBDs" because you are really into self-torture and you have deluded yourself into thinking he will go back to sleep.
He begins to scream for chocolate milk, which of course you don't have. So you offer water. He screams in protest.
Because you are an awesome mother, you attempt to pour the bottle of water into your Diet Dr Pepper cup while driving so your beloved son can drink through a straw. He chucks it on the floor and you are right back where you started, except the delicious pellet ice in your cup is now melted.
He then demands the water in his chocolate milk "cuppy". And because you are in bondage to your tyrannical screeching howler monkey you carefully remove the lid and bravely place the cup between your legs. And while drving 70+ mph on the Interstate you pour the Diet Dr Pepper water into the green nalgene bottle. At this moment, you realize that you probably would have been better off just peeing your pants because at least that would have been warm water in your crotch... and your howler monkey would still be asleep.
Because you are human, and sometimes you need to feel vindicated, you put the lid back on the bottle, give it a good shake to completely mix in the residual chocolate milk sludge and hand it back to your monkey.

Waiting for him to take his first drink of the wretched concoction, smirking a little to yourself.
But alas, he drinks it happily and remains silent for the remainder of the trick. You are one part disappointed, then you remember that this is the same kid to who dips his potato chips in applesauce and his apples in ketchup. So mostly you are grateful to have appeased the howler monkey.

You get home, and it dawns on you that the combination must have created some strange chemical reaction, and the liquid turned into some sort of baby crack. So you decide to bottle it and make a million dollars so you can call up those silly "Baby Einstein" inventors and tell them that they can stick it! That you can take something incredibly dull and common and make a fortune from it too!

bottoms up everyone!

Happy New Year

2011-01-11T22:15:00.000-05:00

I guess I should post something before the entire month of January slips by.
Especially since a lot of you are dying to know about Christmas.
Just in case you were wondering... I got it.
The mop.
yep.
And it is everything I hoped it would be.
I have mopped my floors twice in the past two weeks. Which is probably more than they were mopped in 2010.
Don't judge me.
I have issues.
One of them being, I detest mopping.... and vacuuming, and dusting, and cleaning in general.
I also buckled down and sorted through all of Jonathan's toys.
Took a giant trash bag to Goodwill and two plastic tubs down to the basement.
I am going to be honest, I am not saying the kid needs more toys (he Most DEFINATELY doesn't) but there aren't that many right now.
Mostly trains and puzzles.
peace out. sorry for the boring post.

christmas eve

2010-12-25T00:40:00.000-05:00

Well, techincally it's Christmas. But since I refuse to start the next day before I go to bed, it is still Christmas Eve.
My house is quiet. and dark, except the the tree and the mantle. I have Christmas Carols playing on Pandora. The snow is silently and magically falling. In the stillness there is peace.
I would be lying if I said this was the best Christmas ever. It isn't even close. Not by a long shot. I think we (those at my house) are feeling the oppression of disease. Everette's mom is one and half weeks into her first chemo. She is feeling pretty ok now, but her white counts are low and I think we are all waiting, our breath caught in our chest.
A lovely women in our congregation, and I do mean lovely, quietly left her body yesterday. She passed away, in her home, next to her beloved husband. Just like that. Silently, without warning, and with no parting words. But she leaves a grieving husband, and a son, and grandchildren.

Today, somewhere across the country, someone I do not know, and does not know me, lost their sweet baby boy. His tiny body only days old could not fight any longer, and he too left a grieving family.

And now Christmas is here. And it seems unwelcome, an inconvenient nuisance.
And yet it is not. Because it is the beginning of hope.
I think it is great that Jesus came as a baby and this is the season we celebrate his birth. but kind of.. who cares?
"A people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned." Isaiah 9:2

A light. A great light. A tiny flicker of light surrounded by deep darkness. A beacon of hope, and salvation shattering the darkness. A source of comfort and peace. A lamp, and a torch.
I have been thinking a lot about Jesus being the light of the world. I think because, we are all familiar with darkness. It surrounds us. And we all know what power the light holds.

John 1:4-5 "In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."
Amen

John 1:14 "The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth."
The Word of God became flesh. I think an important thing to know, that before the birth of Christ, there had been 400 years of silence from God. There were no prophets. No one was speaking prophetic words. For 400 long years the Israelites as a people heard nothing from the Lord Almighty.
And then... the word... became flesh. And made his dwelling among the people.

praise God.
for the Light of the World, and the Living Word, in the form of a baby.
ok. my bed is calling me.
Mighty Christmas!

I really am a grown up

2010-12-19T15:04:00.000-05:00

One of the ways I mark just exactly how old I feel, since we all know age has nothing to do with adulthood, is by the items on my Christmas/Birthday List.
I used to define "gift" as something you really wanted, but it was totally impractical or completely frivolous. For example: any manner of shoes, hair accessories, makeup, clothing (non-essential), entertainment and jewelry.
Slowly, over a number of years, much like the English language, my definition has evolved.
Into: usable items. Items that benefit other members of my family.
Like a ceramic coated large cast iron dutch oven. Or a food processor. Or 1000 Thread Count bed sheets (best christmas gift ever!).

This year, I mark another notch on my growth chart.
Because this is the number one item on my Christmas list this year.

a mop.

A shark SteamPocket Mop to be exact. But still, a glorified mop.

I am caught in a conflict of emotions.

My heart literally accelerates, when I think about this gift, but then my cheeks burn with shame that I could actually be excited about something as domestic and unexciting as a mop.

Every time I look at my grody floors, I quiver with anticipation.

I don't know if you have seen the inside of my house, but I have a lot of floor to mop. And I hate mopping. Because... it either requires lugging a bucket, making frequent trips to the sink, dirty water, or 700 swiffer pads and still streaky floors.

But this mop. It is a wonder. It plugs in (no batteries-a big plus). And with two or three cups of water, and one or two WASHABLE pads, I can clean my whole floor.

No special floor cleaner, no buckets of dirty water sloshing all over. Just water.

I am officially 87 years old folks.

And I really hope I get it this year!

Mocha Truffles (A.k.a. mocha balls)

2010-12-18T22:38:00.000-05:00

I get several requests a year for my recipe for Mocha balls. It is a recipe from my grandmother. It isn't a secret and it isn't, I am pretty, sure even hers.
So I figured I would write it all here and from now on just refer people to this site. And so I can remember from one year to the next. If you aren't interested in ever making truffles, then you can just skip this post.
It all started one year when I was too poor/bad at saving money to buy Christmas gifts. Then it continued the next year when I had potential in-laws to impress. Now I am buying presents and making mocha balls. What is up with that? So I have been making them for almost 10 years and I, after several colossal failures, have figured out a pretty reliable system.

Before I go any further, the photo above is not of my actual mocha balls, because, I am way too lazy to photograph the operation. But I promise they will look just like this.

Here is the actual recipe:

1 pkg cream cheese (softened)

24 oz of semi-sweet chocolate chips (melted in a double boiler)

3 T instant coffee

2t hot water (am I the only one who prefers big "T" and little "t" when notating tablespoon and teaspoon, to me it is much more clear)

2 lb Dark chocolate candy coating

white chocolate

Dissolve the coffee in the water. In a mixer combine cream cheese and melted chocolate. Add coffee. Mix until smooth and combined.

Refrigerate the dough. Once it is solid roll into balls and place in freezer.

Melt dark chocolate, dip balls into chocolate, cool on wax paper. Refrigerate. Eat.

Here are my notes:

I use Starbucks Via (Italian roast) 3-4 sleeves per batch. It is expensive, but SOOOO much better.
Frequently, I melt one 12 oz pkg of semi-sweet chocolate with one 12oz pkg of Ande's mint baking chips.
Try it. You won't regret it. This makes them Peppermint Mocha Truffles

Some procedure hints:

I HATE to get my hands all dirty so I pour the dough into a large rectangular tupperware container and freeze it.
Then I get a melon baller and some hot water and scoop the dough out into little balls.
It is important to get a melon baller like this one. (USE THE SMALL END and you can get more bang for your buck)

Not like this one:

I can't really explain it, but the latter just doesn't work. The baller needs to be able to rotate completely around to cut out a perfect circle.

Here is the method:
Dip (in warm water)
scoop (really it is more like "Cut")
tap (on the side of storage container, and perfectly round chocolate ball drops into container--ok sometimes it isn't exactly perfectly round, but I have found, that no one complains and they all get eaten)
Dip*Scoop*Tap
and repeat.
Once I have scooped the entire surface area, I stick the container in the microwave for a few seconds at a time to soften it. Once soften, I re-smooth the dough and refreeze and repeat the whole process, a few hours/days later.
When they have all been scooped it is time to start dipping.
First..clear some space in your fridge for a baking sheet to rest. (It can tediously balanced on top of the milk)
Melt the dark chocolate in a double boiler. Melt the white chocolate in the microwave, and thin it with vegetable oil, until it drizzles pretty easily.
Line two baking sheets with wax paper (or aluminum foil, if you suddenly realize you are out of wax paper)
Get yourself a pickle grabber (and Christmas music-this is a critical part of the procedure)
(or pickle pincher)

grab a few (not all) of the balls from the freezer
use the grabber to dip the balls into the chocolate and drop onto the wax paper. Once you have completed a row, use a fork to drizzle the white chocolate over the top of the balls. (I think it is helpful to do this row-by-row rather than tray-by-tray, because the white chocolate sticks better to the dark chocolate if you get it on there before the dark chocolate hardens).

Pop one tray into the fridge while you dip the other. Once they harden you can store them in an airtight container in the fridge, You can put them in the freezer but they will start to sweat. So I stick with the fridge, or the garage if it's cold outside.
And that is pretty much it.

If you follow my steps and use the small scoop you can get about 6 dozen balls from one batch.
ok one more tiny hint.. spend some time looking for bags to put them in (this is the hardest part for me) because one you start dividing them amongst your friends, you will see that one dozen doesn't look like very much and a half a dozen looks pretty measly, but any more than that and you will be making these on Labor Day. the trick is to find little bags so the bags look full, and it doesn't look so skimpy.

A Vocabulary Lesson

2010-12-18T01:10:00.004-05:00

Note: This is a post I started a few weeks ago, and couldn't add pictures. So I abandoned ship.

Sorry, I've been gone so long ( I know, I know, what else is new). But this time I really have a good excuse. My left wrist is all out-of-whack and it hurts. Especially to do activities like type. My chiropractor has been working on it and it has been getting better. So I will suffer through for you. Jonathan has been pretty chatty these days and I would say he is about 90% intelligible to me 85% intelligible to Everette and 70-75% intelligible to the rest of the general population. He can master most words if you break them up, and repeat them for him, but he is slow to make these corrections into his everyday vocabulary. So we still have some pretty adorable words.

kabwoon

katatoes

kapleece

alligator

December

2010-12-17T16:19:00.000-05:00

I figured it was December and I should probably say something here or hang the whole thing up.
Which I don't want to do, but since I am a mother and this blog is like my second child I have mother guilt due to blog neglect.
Actually, I started a post several weeks ago but stupid blogger wouldn't let me add pictures. So I got cheesed and left in protest.
But as it turns out... someone actually reads this thing, so I shall forge ahead.
November flew by at warp speed. There is much I could say, but I will just give you the highlights.

1. During our trip to NYC we learned that a biopsy Everette's mom had before we left had returned cancerous.
2. We returned home to find out she had breast cancer and the surgeon was recommending a mastectomy.
3. A few days later her surgery was scheduled. and Everette's brother (the one we just visited in NYC) flew back here for a whopping 9 days! (a new record)
4. The surgery revealed that the cancer was no longer confined to the breast.. just barely. And she would require Chemo.
5. In the midst of all this we had some dear friends stay with us. Which was lovely.
6. Spent several days, almost literally passing each other on our way in and out the door.
7. We drove to Alabama for Thanksgiving, with a three-year-old potty-in-training.
8. We got home from Alabama and had a colossal fight.
9. Spent several days barely speaking to each other.
10.Tried to "get in the Christmas Spirit"
11. As a GIANT act of love, Everette bundled up and drove across the county to the tree farm, trudged to the very back of the lot with Jonathan on his shoulders carrying a hacksaw to pick out the very best White Pine Tree. In the beginning of last Sunday's blizzard.
12. Tuesday Everette's mom had her first Chemo treatment.

That brings us to today.

So upon further review this list seems like a total downer. More like "lowlights".

Here are some good things that happened:
Jonathan and I made Christmas cookies!
Jonathan and I have been working on super secret Christmas projects.
I have made12 dozen mocha balls. (sadly those have all been eaten)
Jonathan still after all these weeks, absolutely LOVES to see Christmas lights as we drive.
And... we got to watch Auburn come from behind to thoroughly stomp Alabama the day after Thanksgiving. War Eagle! (this qualifies as one of those things I NEVER thought I would be excited about-never. not in a million years).
Oh... and just one more thing: caramel cake. I am thankful for caramel cake.
Amen.

Peas in a Pod

2010-11-05T21:45:00.001-04:00

This is Everette

This is Everette's younger (not youngest) brother Brad.


From a few years ago

He lives and works in New York. You may remember me mentioning him before.

I think it is pretty safe to say that as far as Mills' boys go, they are the most different. They look the most different, and their lives are the most different.

But after our trip, it is clear that these boys seem different, but they are cut from the same Jell-O mold.

Let me tell you how we discovered this...
It was us, the women folk. We found it out.

It went like this:
"Brad only blah, blah, blahs."
"OH MY GOSH, so does Everette!"
"No way!"
"way!" (valley girl voices increasing exponentially)

Here are a few similarities we discovered:

1. For starters, they are both in love with women named "Meg(h)an"
      major points right there fellas!

2. They both have had unhealthy attachments to their ratty old high school football shorts

3.They prefer the same sleepwear
   (we're just going to leave it at that, okay?)

4.They both bite their nails.
             some more than others.

5. They are both incredibly ornery.
                I cannot emphasize this one enough.


I asked them to pose in front of this police boat, so I could take a picture for their mother and this... is how they both posed for me, independently, with no co-conspiracy.

6. When you ask either of them a question, you rarely get a straight answer.
Which can be exasperating.

7.They are both "doer"s, and can rarely sit still
even when they sit still... they bounce. You know the "leg bounce"

8. Unless there is a football game on.
in which case they would catheterize themselves if possible.

9. Every game is "the most important game of the season"

10. They hate pepper on their eggs.

11. They make fun of "others" who like to add salt to their food.
Especially if *gasp* they do it before tasting

And finally...
12.They both believe all manner of medical problems can be solved with cuticle trimmers (a.k.a. nippers).
skin tags, unruly hairs, ingrown toenails, split ends, warts, asthma, arthritis, appendicitis, etc.

Two peas in a pod

I could not pass this up... for the look on Everette's usually stolid face.

Oh and while they may have different "favorite" Jell-O salads, I think we can safely say it is weird that they even both have a favorite Jell-O salad!

A Tangent

2010-11-04T19:37:00.000-04:00

I cannot take credit for this, but I do think this is my favorite sentence. I plan to memorize it and perfect it's delivery so that I can throw it out randomly.

Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo

Just let it sink in. Read it again. Can you figure it out.

Try it this way.
Buffalo buffalo, Buffalo buffalo buffalo, buffalo Buffalo buffalo.

I find a few commas make it much easier to read. You can read more here.
There has got to be a punctuation lesson here somewhere!

NYC Part 4

2010-11-01T21:23:00.000-04:00

Sunday Morning we dragged (drug?) our tired battered bodies out of bed and headed to Central Park.
To say our bodies were tired and battered, might be an exaggeration, but I am telling you that bed was amazing. Getting up in the morning was kind of like getting out of the pool after floating weightlessly all afternoon.
In other words, a total drag.
Anyway... we ate brunch at the Boathouse Restaurant in Central Park.

Only pictures from the park.

We walked through Central Park, then headed back to the hotel to get our bags. I asked Brad to take me up to the Third Floor to see the Ball Room. And it was AMAZING!! They were setting up for a wedding.

The ballroom! Just in case you were wondering, those are orchids cascading over the top of those center pieces with crystal chandeliers underneath.

Then we waited in the Towers Lobby for our towncar.

The fireplace in the lobby, more orchids.

We had an amazing time, until I got to La Guardia, then I never wanted to be home much in my life.

Goodbye New York.

NYC Part 3

2010-10-29T00:19:00.001-04:00

I realize that these post are largely descriptive, and maybe not that interesting, but I really want to write it all down so that in a few years I can remember it more accurately. And since I need an audience for everything I do, you ~~all~~ both will just have to suffer through.
Saturday we woke up and managed to drag our battered bodies out of bed.
We(Everette and I) dressed ourselves and headed down to a restaurant in the hotel that served a breakfast buffet. A buffet, Everette's brother got us complimentary tickets for (because he is awesome), or we would have "suffered" through the continental breakfast upstairs.

I managed to choke down an egg omelet and some bacon and more. I think I am going to have to do a whole post or serious of posts on New York food, because it was amazing. So stay tuned. You know I always follow through on my blog promises.
After breakfast we hopped in a cab and headed to the USS Intrepid museum. Something Everette drummed up. It was actually really interesting. If you ever do it, spring for the audio tour, you really will learn a whole lot more, and you don't have to exert so much energy reading... trust me, in New York, you need to do three things: 1.conserve energy 2. Sit whenever possible and 3. PEE whenever possible.
One super neat thing, there were a few men who actually served on the Intrepid who volunteer at the museum (which is actually the old ship). It was neat to hear them talk about the ship, as they knew it in a very different way. (Hey mom, this is one of those moments when I wished you were with me, so that you could ask a bazillion questions, and embarrass me to death, but secretly I'd be happy, because I was learning so much and really wanted to know the answers to all those annoying questions you were asking.)

Reason number one I would never work on a submarine

Reason number two

This, from the Growler submarine, is the most badass freestanding mixer ever (until we saw the one in the galley of the ship).

This is the view from the stern of the carrier (facing starboard)

This is the view of the bow of the ship (are you impressed with my boat terminology yet?)

(Our intelligent, charming, knowledgeable tour guides) Apparently helicopter pilots too!

We each took a turn in the G-4 simulator. Which was totally awesome. Once I convinced Everette it would be more fun to spin the crap out of it than it would be to try to "play the game" and actually shoot the enemy.

This is NOT the G-4 simulator. This is the tiny replica rescue boat. On a giant waterbed, so you could really get the feel for what it would be like. At one point all four of us were in it and I really did fear for my life.

We then grabbed a cab back to Brad and Meghan's apartment to watch the Tiger Bowl. We had earlier discussed heading to the bar that plays all things Auburn to watch the game, but I think we were all happy to veg on the couch and watch the game. I am pretty sure everyone took a power nap.

Sorry Meghan, Everette took this, and you just look so darn cute!

We dashed back to the hotel to change clothes and headed to a restaurant called Quality Meats for a divine dinner. I mean.. divine. But again, more on that later.

I will vouch for Everette here, he is happy, just full!

So something weird and freaky is happening with my makeup and the camera flash... but what would be a rather adorable picture, is bizarro, as I look like death has just washed over me.

We stopped in at the Apple Store, just to look around.
(I didn't take any pictures here, because I didn't have an iphone, or an itouch, or an icamera or an i-mark-of-the-beast and I was afraid, someone would throw me out..and we had some serious Youtube videos to watch)
Everette and I strolled happily back to the hotel. In a happy, dreamy, food induced haze.

We then walked in through the Main Lobby, which, quite frankly, I am not sure how anyone can come to work every day and not catch their breath every time they step through those doors.

More, more, more, more to come!

A Helpr I a bee: A break from NYC

2010-10-28T22:22:00.001-04:00

I have the next part of the NYC trip all written, but you can blame my slow computer for the lack of pictures.. so in the mean time you can see this super cute video of Jonathan.
OK the video quality itself is pretty poor because I took it with my phone. but the sound is what is so dang cute.
A quick viewing note.
1. Jonathan is picking up his toys... cheerfully.
2. Don't forget to turn up the volume!

25525998937 ORIG from Everette Mills on Vimeo.

NYC Day 2

2010-10-24T23:17:00.004-04:00

I am currently sitting on a mountain of pillows on a four poster bed, in a white fuzzy bathrobe, and I smell like lemons.
My feet however, ache, and I think I might have literally walked my hips out of socket.
Today Everette's brother Brad took the day off and showed us around the city.
First of all, we need to discuss the room we are staying in...
Brad is the manager of a relatively well-known high end hotel in New York City. It may or may not be on Park Avenue and 50th. Specifically, he manages the section of the hotel where guests stay for extended periods of time, or even live.
The room is gigantic, and amazing. And there are piles of pillows... soft, sinky pillows.
I just soaked my tired legs in a HOT HOT water, in a deep tub, only after we ate red velvet cake from Room service.
Below is a video tour of our room. And you can see Everette in his jammies. It is four or five minutes long so you might want to go to the bathroom first.

Hotel Room Tour from Everette Mills on Vimeo.

Back to today and my tired feet....
We woke up this morning got dressed, and Brad met us at our hotel at 9 AM. We headed first to ground zero. Sadly, (well I guess not) they have started to rebuild and there wasn't much to see. We did walk into St. Paul's church, a church right across the street from Ground Zero, that in the days following September 11, became a place of rest and refuge for the volunteers. You could see the scuff marks left on the pews from the Firemen's boots. It was quite remarkable. I didn't take any pictures, because, honestly, it just didn't seem appropriate.
One neat thing, was a priest vestment was donated, and during the following months firemen, and police men attached patches from their stations onto the vestment. In the months and years following visitors to ground zero brought their own similar patches and pinned them on. It was completely covered.

Next we headed to wall street so Everette could get his picture taken with the bull. The front was occupied so we headed to the rear.

I predicted before we arrived, that this picture would be the only one in which you will be able to see Everette's real genuine smile. You can judge for yourself.

We decided we ought to get our picture in the front, since we were there.

From there we went to Battery Park to get our tickets to the Liberty/Ellis Island Ferry.
The wait was about an hour, but it gave Everette a chance to have a very cold, very salty soft pretzel from a street vendor. I made a much wiser choice (in my opinion) and opted for sugared almonds. They were tasty.

(A crappy picture of how LONG the line was for the ferry)

After disrobing to walk through the metal detectors we boarded the Ferry.

We opted to bipass the statue and head to Ellis Island.

If you read earlier posts I predicted Everette would spend a great deal of time reading everything there was to read in the entire museum. I was not wrong.
I pooped out with a few exhibits left, so Brad and I headed down to the cafe for a cup of coffee while Everette finished up.
We then trucked over to the Brooklyn Bridge.

I figured after we hit the halfway point I would just keep on going, just to say I walked to Brooklyn, but when we reached the halfway point.

I decided it wasn't worth it, and if walked across, I would have to walk back.
We met Meghan just back over the bridge and after stopping at the most disgusting Starbucks in the world, to pee, we headed to Little Italy, by way of Chinatown.
We accidentally made a wrong turn, which turned out to be a FANTASTIC detour. We headed down a street with rows and rows of tiny Chinese food markets. The kind that have buckets of live frogs and barrels of fish stacked up on ice. THere were roasted ducks with the head and beak. There were baskets of dried shrimp. It was awesome.
We finished with a delicious dinner. And walked through Times Square.

(This is a store dedicated entirely to pop tarts.. you could order them and eat them right there)

(There was a ferris wheel inside Toys R Us, and one of the cars was the Little Tykes Cozy Coupe)

And back to the hotel through Rockefellar Center.

Sadly, that isn't even everything we did today, but my mountain of pillows is call my name, and we have a full day tomorrow.

Getting there is half the battle

2010-10-23T15:43:00.000-04:00

Currently, I am sitting in the new Indianapolis airport, waiting to board our nonstop flight to La Guardia. I have already consumed a hot cup of coffee, and Everette has already sent 36 emails.
If there were ever any doubts that Everette loved me, I am sure of it now. He left his work computer at home. And as we got out of the car he left his work phone in the van.
Our flight is delayed until 5:03... here's hoping it wont' be any longer. Our flight is super crowded, so that should be fun.
Regardless, It is going to be awesome...
I think I mentioned earlier that we decided not to check our bags... it's only 3 days, how hard could it be.
Difficult, as it turns out.
Considering, Everette's shoes take up 75 % of the suitcase space. But we did it. And here is evidence to prove.

Traveling with Everette is... an... adventure.
On one hand he does it all the time, and knows EVERYTHING, you need to know. He also has a pretty good system for maneuvering his way through airports swiftly.
On the other hand he does it all the time and he doesn't particularly enjoy it.
For me, flying is still fun. I don't do it all the time, so I still enjoy people watching, and exploring airports. Especially once I am through security.
Everette, however, from the moment he steps off the shuttle, he is in some sort of derby race with invisible horses, and sprints out of the gate in a dead run.
He will not stop until he gets to his gate.
We get off the shuttle and Everette cranks up his already brisk walking pace to Olympic speed walking. He bolts to the security line. Once he reaches the line he maniacally maneuvers his luggage through the winding lane ropes used to herd people like cattle through the detectors. He almost took one out.
Once he reaches the x-ray machine he slips off his shoes rips out his computer and liquids shoves his bags (and mine-whether I was ready or not) through the machine.

Everette is a great man, but I would not want to be in battle with him. He does not subscribe to the "never leave a man behind" motto. He operates under, you snooze you loose.
Everette scoops up all of our crap and tosses it onto the table, where he proceeds put his shoes back in and repack the bags. I however, still trying to figure out where I am, am left bewildered. I begin to collect myself and begin the task of redressing myself, as I practically had to completely disrobe to make it through security. I had to remove my shoes, my sweater, my insulin pump, and my bracelets. (yes,I could have left the bracelets at home, but the day I stop accessorizing is the day the terrorists win!). I barely had my sweater on, and I looked up and Everette had taken our bags and left. So I with one shoe half on and my sweater tucked in my pants grabbed my purse and followed after.
Begging him to slow down. He did not. He runs on the moving sidewalks. Once we made it through security, in my mind, I thought.. ok, breathe. look around. find coffee, and food. and restrooms.
Everette was undeterred...so I put my foot down and told him I was going to get coffee and I would just meet him at our gate. He asked me for a mocha and kept on walking.
More later.

less than 24 hours until NYC

2010-10-20T21:44:00.000-04:00

I first want to point out that I tried to use the less than sign, but unfortunately Blogspot thinks I am trying to write code. So I actually had to type the words "less than" which kind of lost it's zing.
Anyway, in a few hours I, and certain other members of my family will be heading East (and a little North) to the Big Apple.
We will be leaving behind a dog and a large burly man, lest anyone be reading this thinking the might like to break into our house. No seriously, there will be someone there.

Anyway, I have these grand visions of blogging during our trip, posting pictures and writing clever stories, but in reality, I probably won't do anything, until I get back.
But a girl can dream can't she?
Anyway, I am excited. I am packed and (mostly) ready to go.
I am most excited about flying with Everette (he does not reciprocate). I LOVE traveling with Everette. We have the best conversations.

Everette's brother and his totally awesome girlfriend have planned the whole weekend. The one thing Everette wanted to do was go to Ellis Island. I don't know how much time the scheduled but I am sure it is not enough. Because the one thing I know for sure about Everette is, if there is some sort of historical or informative fact written on a plaque anywhere in a five mile radius of is eyes, he will read it. All of it, until there is nothing left to read.

So Peace, Love, and Lady Liberty.

Catch up

2010-10-15T22:49:00.000-04:00

So about a month ago I mentioned that we took Jonathan to the Whistle Stop. We had a great time! Here are the pictures...

Jonathan is looking up at the four trains that traveled around the restaurant.

Everette and Jonathan eating breakfast

Right before we left (after I put away the camera) they opened the caboose and we got to go inside and sit in the top observation deck. It was really kind of fun!

It really wasn't dangerous!

But Daddy helped anyway!

Afterward we got our first official Barbershop haircut. It was a very big event. I have pictures of that, but they are on my cell phone currently. And it's dead.

Hey... did I mention Everette is taking me to New York City next week? More Details to come.

One of those moments

2010-10-02T23:53:00.000-04:00

Every where I go, I have an internal debate as to whether or not I take my camera. Usually I don't because it is big and awkward, and I don't like dealing with it for the entire event. Sometimes I am glad I didn't bring it, but other times I kick myself repeatedly.
Today was one of those times... sort of.
Today one of Everette's roommates from college got married.
The wedding was at someone's house, and since the house had limited parking we parked at a nearby church and were shuttled to the location. It was kinda fun.
As we stepped out of the car, my self-inflicted beating commenced.
I should back up, and explain that Everette's old roommate is one of those people. One of those people that you admire and secretly want to emulate.
He is quiet, but he is kind, and sincere, and sweet, and hilarious! If you can get him to speak. And let me just say never leave your drink unattended if he is around, but that is another story. He is the kind of guy that might be easily passed over, and probably didn't have girls banging down his door in hot pursuit of him. Which I personally think was in his best interest (he may or may not agree), because the any girl who took the time really see him, would see just what a treasure he was. And I think Amy (his new wife) saw his awesomeness.
Anyway, it is one of those weddings you go to with a lot of anticipation. Not because it is going to be a slammin' party, but because you, from the very bottom of your soul, want to smother these people with goodness, because of the high regard in which you hold them.
I have only been to a couple of other weddings like that.
Back to stepping out of the car. The moment my eyes fell onto the scene in front of me, I was wishing I had my camera, but in the same instant I was glad I didn't have it. Sometimes when I have my camera, I become obsessed with capturing the image the way my eyes see it, and sometimes, in doing that, I miss out on what is in front of me. So I sat down, determined to blaze the image into my mind and into my heart. To say it was magical is simply an understatement.

I Have a really good explanation

2010-10-01T10:53:00.000-04:00

for my absence. I really do.
We have been potty training Jonathan for the past...three weeks.
And lest you ask how it is going, let me just say that we are still potty training. we haven't trained we are still training.
And quite frankly when I sit down at the end of the day I am too pooped to come up with anything interesting to say. Not to mention, Everette and I have been trading sickness. Nothing horrific. Just congestion and sore throats. Like swallowing glass, sore throats.
In the midst of all of this we celebrated Jonathan's third birthday. In fact, I sat down on his birthday to write an adorable mushy lovey post about his unending sweetness, but as it turns out, he was a giant turd that day.
Like, skip-the-bedtime-routine-go-to-bed-thirty-minutes-early turd. And while I didn't end the day wishing he had never been born, I certainly did not feel like regaling is eternal delightfulness.

The weekend before is birthday was delightful, we went to the Whistle Stop in Monon for breakfast on Saturday. And had a great time, and I took lots of great pictures. And if I ever unload them, You will be the first to see them.

This is such a super boring post, but I knew I had to do something, since I am pretty sure only my mom reads this anymore.
But I will return someday. (Are you tired of all my non-committed empty promises?)

A Humongous pain in my hieney: email change part 1

2010-09-10T13:57:00.000-04:00

So first of all, it has come to my attention that I don't actually know how to spell the word "heiney", is it "ei" or "ie". You will have to excuse my ignorance.
Anyway, back to my butt pain. A lot of you know Everette and I (and others) have begun the process of changing our email addresses. If you didn't know, then FYI my email address is megan@elmillsdotnet. Surprise! Everette has owned his own domain since before he could drive (ok maybe not that long, but close) and he hosts email addresses for several other people as well (pretty much my whole family). We sent a letter to those people, the first thing we did was apologize for the pain in the butts we had caused. My original draft said "huge pain in the butt" but Everette edited it to "moderate" (I hate censorship).
But I still maintain that this is a huge pain in the butt! For two reasons, 1. it is 2. I like to be melodramatic
I suppose it might not be so huge relative to other things, but it is highly annoying.
So for the next few days I will be using this blog to whine about how hard my life is.

Feel free to stop coming by if you want. But if you are one of those people being forced to change you might find some helpful hints.

Reason #1 for my pains
The actual transfer itself is pretty easy, (details to come shortly) but once Everette transferred my emails and folders the menu on my .Net account looked like this:

You can see on the left side there a bazillion folders and some duplicate. This majorly stressed me out.

I was whining to Everette and he showed me how to hide them.

(just drag the folder to where it says 62 more, then they will all be hidden)
But I still was not satisfied, just knowing they were there and all disorganized bothered me immensely. What if I needed to shuffle through them or search them, and how do I file my new emails?
Everette pointed out that I don't need to organize them, because the google search tool is so effective you can just type any word from the email you are trying to locate, and you don't need them to be organized. This is coming from a man who keeps EVERY email, and for years have filed them by year and then by month on Thunderbird.
So I asked him what he did now. He simply clicks the Archive button and they disappear. Waiting to be accessed at the click of a button.

Stay tuned for more tails of woe.

There will be more trust me!

For my demanding Fan base

2010-09-08T15:59:00.000-04:00

I have some very needy fans. Seriously. They demand more frequent posting than once a month. I think they need help. But they are also a little scary so I try to appease them.
I am currently too busy to post.
Too busy watching the hair on my toes grow (yes-it's true, I have hair growing on my toes).
So I will just leave you with this little story that happened this morning.
Well it started a few weeks ago when our vacuum broke. More specifically it broke on a Friday afternoon right before we had two different groups of company coming over. Did I mention we have a dog?
Gross.
I asked Everette to look at the vacuum, and he promised he would. But he too was busy. Busy, working, and hanging shelves in the laundry room, and planting lettuce in the garden. Clearly, nothing important.
So fast forward two weeks to Labor Day weekend, and our floor is approaching dirty gas station outdoor bathroom status.. which is dirty--even for me.
Everette finally begins to take the vacuum apart. Upon which he discovers a GIGANTIC..and I mean gigantic, and totally disgusting ball of dirt and dog hair, with a few of my hairs to tie it all up nice and tight clogging the hose attachment, cutting down on the suction of the whole operation.
Everette detached the hose from the vacuum and attempted to dislodge the ball by shoving a broom handle through the hose. The ball would not dislodge.
Not until Everette broke it apart with a screwdriver could he plunge it with the broom handle. It was beyond gross. I told Everette he was my hero, and asked him if he would have my love child. He informed me that we had already crossed that bridge and we proceeded to clean all the filters and start fresh.
This morning I was reassembling the vacuum so I could sweep my grody floors. I found I was missing one important piece. I was pretty confident that Jonathan had moved it somewhere, but I was less than confident in his ability to recall where said piece was left. You would not believe the Jonathan-directed-treasure hunts I have been on in search of a lost sippy cup.
So I continued to scour the downstairs. After a while, I figured I wouldn't be out much if I asked him, at this point I had already sent myself on a wild goose chase.
So I held up another piece that looked similar and asked Jonathan if he had seen it.
"yes" was his reply.
Not too suprised (He ALWAYS says yes)
I asked him where he put it.
In the most casual, matter-of-fact way any toddler can muster, he said, "I put it in the car" and he tossed his hand causally in the direction of his Cozy Coupe.
Skeptical, I headed over there. But as I leaned over, sure enough! There was the missing piece.
You just never know.

I wish I had a camera...

2010-08-25T16:46:00.001-04:00

when I stepped out of the shower, this morning.
But since I have a strict no cameras in the bedroom/bathroom policy, you will just have to use your imagination.
Cameras laying willy-nilly in your bedroom, just seem like asking for trouble. It is kind of like leaving your BMW windows down, keys in the ignition in a rough neighborhood. I mean yeah, you would be pissed if someone stole your luxury car, but really, could you be mad at anyone but yourself?

Back to this morning and the bathroom. No, wait... another aside.
In my house growing up, the toilet paper holder served primarily as a stand on which to place the new roll. It is a whole family thing. I know this because now that we are all grown and out of the house (mostly) I still come home to find the toilet paper sitting on top of an empty roll still on the holder.

(That's how the Greene's roll, ahh haaaaaaaahaaaaa!)

Growing up in this environment, developed this philosophy: changing the toilet paper roll is not critical, and in fact hardly worth it, unless, and only sometimes, when company is coming over.
The problem occurs when two people collide in Holy Matrimony.

(too difficult to replace)

Apparently when Everette was growing up, NOT replacing the toilet paper on the holder is some sort of deadly sin (the 8th I think, I haven't founded listed in the Bible, but Everette assures me it's there). Which, I should point out, that he grew up in a house with four boys and one girl; and I grew up in a house of three girls and two boys. And, as we all know, girls go through toilet paper three times as fast as boys. So the frequency of roll changes at my house to his, is like 9 times as often (did I ever tell you Math is my best subject).
Anyway, after several of the a fore mentioned matrimonial collisions, Everette and I came to a compromise...
We bought one of those holders, hook style, where the roll slides on and off without any dismantling of the complicated spring-loaded do-hickey. Ours is the deluxe edition with a magazine rack.

(this is actually the one we have)

Which has worked well for us until now... The problem that occurs when Holy Matrimony collides with Holy Terror. Ok maybe not holy terrors but busy, curious, charming, mischievious, investigative, grabby almost three-year-old didn't quite have the same ring.
OK now, back to this morning.
I stepped out of our shower and in my blurred pre-contact-lens-insertion vision, I saw a swag of TP looped around our bathroom floor. As my eyes searched for the roll, I followed the strand into our bedroom, across our bed, around the corner into Everette's closet. Jonathan, having long since forgotten it, and moved on to other exciting things.
I sighed as I walked across the room, careful not to step on the paper, as my damp feet would surely break the strand. As I rounded the corner, I saw what was left of the roll. I reached down to pick it up and reroll it. Everette would have ripped it off, because his toilet paper has to be nice and neat as he is a folder. I however, couldn't bear to toss all that TP, and since I am a wadder it makes no difference to me (Actually, I am a wrapper/folder, but that requires to roll to be free of any anchoring apparatus so I have long since abandoned my wrapping ways and sacrificed to wad. That is correct ladies and gentleman, I am a toilet paper martyr. And I hope someday I will get my crown).
Everette is out of town until Thursday, so I have one and a half days to use all that TP, as I am a girl, it shouldn't be a problem.

Sorry folks, I thought it had been too long since I had talked about some sort of bathroom topic.

Better than my pinkie finger

2010-08-21T10:21:00.000-04:00

A few months ago, after I blogged about my dad, at his request, I was chatting with my brother (who is older) about it, and he looked at me wide-eyed and said, "I would never asked to be in your blog!" Of course, at that moment, I began to conspire to find a way to post about him. It is like the time when he was in middle school and he had a bunch of his friends over and shut the door to his room to keep his highly-annoying-5th-grade sister (me!) out. I spent the rest of the evening (before and after dinner) carving a hole in his door with a butter knife, the size of a nickel, so I could spy on them. I know it was the size of a nickel because that is what by brother attempted to cover it with. Which worked until I pushed it off with a chopstick.
Don't worry, what goes around, comes around, after he left, that became my room.

So you see, I have some sort of disorder that triggers an obsession with doing whatever my brother tells me I can't or shouldn't do. Another time, he was antagonizing me and I threatened to pour milk on his head at dinner. He said, "you wouldn't." Before I knew what was happening, I lifted my arm, glass in hand and dumped it on his head. I am just really glad he never said, "Don't get addicted to methamphetamine." or "don't play with guns." or my life could have taken a serious turn for the worse.

Before everybody starts talking about what an obnoxious sister I was, I feel the need to share two things:
1. my brother and my cousin used to play laser tag with me and my younger sister, except there were only two guns and two targets, you can guess how this went down.
2. my brother also was known to deliberately eat leftovers in the fridge marked with your name.

The problem is, my brother is a pretty good story teller in his own right, and any story bearing any humor(and believe me there are plenty) he has already told on himself. Like they say, the best defense is a good offense.

A few days ago my brother got a new cell phone, and by that I mean, he got A cell phone.

You see, my brother... he is very passionate. He has a lot of things he believes in very strongly.
This in general is a pretty good quality. Actually, let's be honest, it is a pretty great quality. It means he has a strong sense of right and wrong, and isn't afraid to stand in the right, alone.
It means he had the guts to go back to school to get his teaching license to teach FACS (home ec) to high school and middle school kids.
Sometimes, his strong beliefs, find him in a pickle, especially as they pertain to technology. Like the time he told me ipods were from the devil, and it is necessary to hold the album in your hand, and see and touch the album art to fully appreciate the artist's music. Which may, in fact, be true, but it doesn't seem to matter to the millions of people who download music from itunes. People, as it turns out, like my brother--eventually, who learned to appreciate the convenience of all of your music being in one central place, so you can take with you on your family's two week road trip to Yellowstone National Park. And people, like my brother, who appreciate the affordability of downloading music as opposed to purchasing CD's, and was over the moon when for his birthday I gave him Amazon credits to download every Avett Brother's album onto his ipod.
although, I find it necessary to point out, that if my brother were to live in a world where this technology does not exist he would be exceedingly happy with all music in the form of records.

Brian's opinions about cell phones were not dissimilar to his previous thoughts about ipods (you could imagine his views on iphones!).
So here it is... 2010, an age when they are handing out cell phones to infants in hospital delivery rooms, and my brother finally gits himself a "shiny new cell phone". Not only is it a shiny new cell phone, it is a touch screen, with a full QWERTY keypad. A keypad which he has used to text me no less than 5 times in the week he has owned it. Which, to the rest of the world that may not seem like a lot but, in the past year I can count on two hands the number of phone calls/emails I have received from my brother.
Don't get me wrong, I am excited my brother has a cell phone, I finally have direct access to him, I don't have to go through his wife (whom I love as my own sister), or his kids (whom I think he exploits to screen his phone calls). He texted his phone number to me, and I believe as his younger sister it is my ~~right~~ no, my duty, to frequently call his cell phone and leave harassing messages. The variety of which I have already left, as of yesterday.

If you would like to participate in the leaving of obnoxious voicemails, you can reach him at...

really? Did you really think I was going to post his number?
whew! I feel better! I feel cleansed, I have scratched the itch. I blogged about my brother. Now if you will excuse me I need to go play some laser tag... only this time I get to use the guns.

2010-08-19T20:24:00.000-04:00

This morning I woke up to the sound of the garbage truck driving down our street. Which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, and actually isn't all that uncommon, but it just so happened that Everette and I forgot to take the trash out to the curb. Which again, has happened before, but when you have a kid in diapers... you don't want to forget the trash. It is serious bad news. Serious bad news. To make matters worse, the Tuesday I cleaned out the fridge and the freezer, and things I normally would have tossed down the drain, but since "tomorrow is trash day" I tossed them in the trash. Whoops! I think some of the delightful matter include ice cream, a few scattered rotten peaches and tomatoes, I was too lazy to take to the compost, and several unidentified items growing mold. It's a long time until next Wednesday.
Also in other news... apparently my son isn't perfect. Who knew?
With his third birthday only a few weeks away, it seems we won't escape the "terrible two's" after all. It sort of happened slowly and snuck up on us. Until now, Jonathan has been pretty compliant, and not that he never got in trouble, but most often simply the threat of discipline was enough to help him "want" to obey.
Jonathan has learned to exert his will. He simply sits down and says "no". What's worse, is when I came to the realization, that I am making things worse. So I'm not bragging, but I am pretty patient (at least compared to the rest of the my household), but my patience has stealthily morphed into coercion, and unnecessary repeated instructions. Basically, my kid is pretty cute, and he managed to dupe me... briefly.
So the past few days the we have been in our own "Back-to-School SMACKDOWN!"
It has resulted in a lot of time-outs and more than one spanking, not to mention our first Someone-else's-bathroom spank. We have also, for the first time since our first time-out, attempted escape from the time-out chair, which in my opinion is generously comfy and well-lit. Lot's of fun times.Who wants to visit.

Trying to retrain my kid's brain also results in threat's that are punishment for me to follow-through.
"If you do that one more time, we are going home."
oh and... he officially ripped the "I" key off of my laptop, and for all I know, ate it, as I have yet find it.
So to sum up, we have rotten stinky garbage, and a rotten stinky kiddo.
On a positive note, Jonathan learned to tell jokes this weekend.
He only has one and here's how it goes...

Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Apple.
Apple Who?
Apple scratch (says in a high squeaky voice, while scratching himself, and laughing hysterically).
I will try to get it on video, but he is pretty particular about his audience and who knows when I will actually post a video.

Peaches

2010-08-08T22:07:00.001-04:00

Hello...
Hi...
It's me.
Do you remember me?
I used to write on this blog, and then I stopped, and then I started writing posts about promises to write more posts. But never writing them.
Remember?
Summer is over, and I am depressed. Everyone is going back to school and the pool is going to close.
My garden is kicking my butt currently.
Yeah, yeah, I know. I promised to write about my garden. But I still haven't loaded the pictures... so you just have to read.

So Everette and I started EVERYTHING from seeds this year...
broccoli, lettuce, spinach, tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, chinese cabbage,a kajillion herbs etc.
We started them in our basement, in peat pots, with grow lights. Everything started off great. We had sprouts growing out of almost every pot. We were happy. we watered and watched. We were proud. We were self-sufficient, we were earthy, we were saving money!
And then..
BAM!
Out of nowhere, for no reason, things started dying. Just fallng over, and those that didn't die, they just stopped growing. Our dwarfy cucumber sprouts had blossoms. Our tomatoes stalled out. They didn't die, but they refused to grow. Blight. pestilence. plague.
We were sad, we were depressed, we were down. But we were NOT OUT! We were out a bunch of money, however.
So spring came and Bennetts and they had plants.. and we had a gift card!
We bought tomato plants, pepper plants, watermelon plants, and katatoes (Jonathan speak for potatoes).
We planted salvaged broccoli, and reseeded some lettuce, and more herbs and we watered. and we waited, and we weeded, and we watched, and we weeded some more.
And they grew! and they grew!!! and grew!
We planted 9 tomato plants, and a bunch of cucumbers. Green beans, sugar snap peas, lettuce and swiss chard and spinach, the afore mentioned broccoli, onion, strawberries, peppers:sweet and hot, zucchini (died), watermelon, and a large variety of herbs.
We are also experimenting with a small patch of potatoes and carrots at my grandmothers house. Since those crops tend to be lower maintenance.
and so far things have been pretty good.
I have done some canning (can we talk about stressful-too many irons in the fire): tomatoes, apple jelly, and today... peaches!!
There is a local place Annie's Orchard that grows u-pick strawberries, blueberries, peaches, and grapes (and maybe even more). I haven't made it this year until the peaches.
I went today and picked two varieties of peaches. I picked over 60 lbs of peaches. alone. in less than 30 minutes. I also drug 60 lbs of peaches to the cashier and to my car... alone. Then I spent the next several hours blanching and cutting, and packing, and canning large quantities of peaches. And I still have two more boxes!
I am tired.
Tomorrow I am helping my sister work on her new totally awesome house. Then Tuesday I am headed to IKEA in Chicago.
Then I am guessing I will be dealing with peaches again after that. Hopefully going to get another trip into the swimming pool.

Writer's Jam

2010-07-27T15:00:00.000-04:00

Have you ever been driving along the interstate, minding your own business, clipping along at 5 (or so) mph over the speed limit? Then all of a sudden traffic slams to a screeching halt and you are sitting perfectly still in the sweltering heat. You look around for constructions signs but there are none, that is when you realize that traffic is so backed up you haven't even gotten to the warning signs yet and that three lanes of traffic are now (and for the next three hours) attempting to funnel into one. And you also realize that you desperately need to pee.

This is the inner workings of my brain. My lack of blogging has not been due to lack of content, it is quite the contrary. I have too much to write about. All these ideas are trying to squeeze themselves into my tiny brain. I am also an ostrich, when I get overwhelmed, I run outside and duck my head into the sandbox. Literally, sometimes five or six times a day. This blogging traffic jam in my head, only makes me think about how desperately I need to stop and pee.

So much has happened lately, I don't know what to write about first. I mean, I promised back in June to write about my garden, but I haven't been motivated to upload the pictures. Mostly because I have to do it upstairs in Everette's office, and it is 10, 000 degrees up there. But since I promised it, I don't feel like I can write about anything else until I do.
Our whole family (greene side) went on vacation.
I had my ten year high school reunion (Well, I didn't go-but the fact that it has been ten years since I graduated high school, has left a rather traumatic injury to my psyche).
We are dogsitting for Everette's parents again.

I have crazy crazy cute video of Jonathan singing in the tub, but that also requires me to go up into the fiery inferno.
And most of all I have to waste an entire post whining about not knowing what to post. And since we all know that people don't like to read really long blogs, I have to end this post having said nothing at all. On the bright side I might be going swimming today.
But I promise I will come back and write about something.

A short Quiz

2010-07-06T09:02:00.001-04:00

Question: What do you do when you have 30 mins to get ready fora funeral after working in the yard all morning and you realize that it's summer and the chacos you were wearing to mow the yard and weed the garden are the only pair of black sandals you own?

Leave your guesses here and come back later for the answer!

Answer:
You flip on the shower, toss in your chacos, grab an old nail brush and a bar of soap and get busy.
Then you try not to gag when you see the rivers of dirt pouring out of your chacos and splattering on the walls as you scrub with the brush.
When you are finished you toss them onto the bathmat. Then once you are showered, and dried, you wrap them in your towel and stand on them as you scrunch your hair.
Then you toss them in the dryer for five mins while you throw on some makeup and let them air dry on your feet.

Birthday

2010-07-02T10:12:00.000-04:00

So yes, I promised a post about the garden, and I promise it's coming. But we are full swing into Birthday Season. And I can't be bothered with gardening. And today is my own darling Everette's Birthday.
The thing about Everette's birthday is it almost always lands on Fourth of July Weekend so the festivities spread out.

So it's a weekend of partying!

Happy Birthday Honey!!!!!

The Results are in

2010-06-24T10:56:00.000-04:00

After several days of statistical analysis, we have the answers to the blog post quandry. With a WHOPPING two votes (three if you count the fact that my mom wanted to vote for all of them) "Jonathan answers Biblical Questions Plaguing Scholars for Centuries"

You may remember Jonathan found located Jesus a few months ago, and I personally breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Jonathan (and he alone) has made some more exciting new discoveries...

In other news, you may remember that while the Israelites were wandering in the desert for forever, God provided Manna.

A sweet, honey-flavored white bread-like substance. It only lasted for a day before it was rotten, and until now no one has ever seen it before.

Jonathan, however, eats 'manna' almost every day.

It is white, and sweet, and while it doesn't so much taste like honey it definately goes well with honey.

It definately goes bad after only a day, and it is starchy as well....

I personally like it when I find it laying out on the counter, like this!

The answer to the other nagging questions:

Yes. There were dinosaurs on the ark.

Thank you.
Over and Out.
Coming ~~soon~~ sometime... blight, pestilence, drought, plague, famine, locusts, disease and death...

HOLEY SH-E-ET! I'm on Fire!

2010-06-22T16:20:00.000-04:00

Preface:Don't worry the results are in, the blog post vote results will be revealed soon, but first...

Holey Sheet!

I was out of town last week, with my mother-in-law, helping her clean out her mother's house. I got home after an eleven hour drive at 9:30 PM, Saturday night.
You could say, I was pretty wiped.
Everette did a great job of holding down the fort while I was gone, all the laundry was done, the dishes were at least in the dishwasher, and the garden had been weeded. The bed was only halfway made, but you can't hold that against him, he has some sort of traumatic psychosis when it comes to bed making. He just can't do it. But I can't blame him, because I have the same psychosis when it comes to all other housework (we're a great team).
We were headed to bed, and I had mustered all my remaining strength to straighten the bed, then I lifted up the covers and prepared to sink cozily into my favorite sheets ( I may have mentioned them here before, though I can't find it--they are 1000 TC And they are NOT (repeat NOT) Sateen. Sateen sheets are total conartists. THey promise high thread counts and smooth sleeping, but they do not deliver).
Anyway, I digress... where was I? Oh yes, sinking my travel weary body into dreamy sheets.
As I lifted the covers, Everette chose that moment to say, "Oh,yeah, there's a hole in the sheet."

"What!?!?!!?" I rip off the blankets and to my complete horror there was a GIANT hole in the bottom sheet.
I sighed. and sat deflated on the edge of the bed. I tried to place a towel over it, but since it was right where my feet were there was nothing I could do.
I laid on the bed, in stunned silence. Everette didn't really know what to do. I was on the brink of tears. I know it seems silly, but I FREAKING loved those sheets. More than.... well, a lot of things.

Everette was quick to promise that we could get more, but they won't be the same. And the worst part is, I think I did it. It happened before on some stupid sateen sheets we had, in the same spot. I think I have restless leg in my sleep coupled with sharp jabbing skin spikes on my heel, leads me to believe I wear through the fabric with my heels.
Tragic.

I am still in mourning.

I'm on Fire
well, not me, but my parents woke up this morning at 4:30 AM to a house filled with smoke. As it turns out, they had a small electrical fire. It burned itself out, the damage was minimal, and every one is ok; but it still made for an exciting morning.
And no matter how calmly it is explained, there is something very unnerving about hearing that your childhood home was on fire.

Cooking wth Dad: Lesson 1-- How to Boil Water

2010-06-17T23:42:00.000-04:00

So it has come to my attention that with all this chatter about my mom here, my dad is feeling left out. In honor of Father's Day I will oblige, although he may come to regret it later.

My dad, I have heard, used to cook with/for my mom in their early years of marriage. As the years progressed and my mom stayed home with her three extremely well behaved children, my dad stepped out of the role and my mom assumed more of the responsibility for food prep. You can call it chauvinist, I call it reality. As a stay at home mom myself, it just makes sense for me to make dinner, I have more time. It's true.

Now that my dad is working less and my mom is working more, he is cooking more again.
This balance shift took place over the last few years and when it first began he was a little... uhh... rusty.

My dad also has the tendency to get himself all hyped-up over his responsibilities. My dad is not the laid-back-roll-with-the-punches. He is the lets-get-this-done-now-so-I-can-get-back-to-watching-old-Westerns-on-TV kind of guy.
Early in our marriage Everette and I were over at my mom and dad's for dinner. We were hanging out and when it came time for food prep, my dad had one job: boil the water for corn. Obviously it was the summer, because we only eat Green Wagon corn and we only eat in the summer.

Anyway, back to my dad, head chef, and chief water boiler. Before I go any further, I must say in my dad's defense, their stove is the worst stove on planet earth, and you could needlepoint a life-sized picture of the Statue of Liberty before you could boil water.

But I digress. As my mom set to work preparing the rest of dinner, my dad set to work slamming around the kitchen. My mother, after 30 years of marriage has learned, largely how to ignore my dad when he gets into hyper drive. So we continued talking, mostly oblivious to whatever my dad was doing.
Until my mother, quite involuntarily grabbed the large stock pot, brought it to the sink, filled it up and returned it to the stove.
Seconds later, when my dad realized what she had done, he went from over-drive to rocket launcher mode (seriously, I think my dad could launch rockets with the energy he rams around with).
"what did you do that for!?!" he exclaimed out of frustration.
My mom, responded with apologies as most people would, after completely unintentionally upsetting some one.

My dad continued to overreact. I would compare it to a steam whistle. He wasn't rude or mean. He just had all this pressure built up from his flurry of activities that it just burst out when he opened his mouth.

As I watched him, I realized what he was doing and why he was upset...
My Dad, had decided the fastest, most efficient, and best way to boil water for corn was to fill a one-quart microwave-safe bowl with water and nuke it for five mins and then dump it the large 3 gallon stock pot on the stove. Then go to the sink and start over and rinse and repeat...

Let's just let that resonate for a bit...

And his frustration was because my mother unknowingly poured 10 quarts of cold tap water into his two accumulated quarts of nuked warm water. Thus bringing him back to square one and rendering his intense water-heating efforts fruitless. You can feel the man's frustration.
I immediately started laughing , a deep gut busting laugh. With tears and side cramps, and hyperventilating breaths.

My mom quickly followed suit.

My dad, beginning to realize his folly but not ready to admit it quite yet, just stood there, his rocket booster energy dissipating.

My poor dad will never live it down no matter how many delicious dinners he makes. He can grill a steak, smoke a turkey, just please don't ask him to boil water.
Happy Father's Day, Dad! I love you to pieces.

Up Next...
Choose your own adventure, I have several things I could write about, but I can't decide what's next. So you tell me...
Here are you three Blog Post Titles (and I can't promise they will ALL get written, so your vote could be a matter or life and death):

Blight, Pestilence, Plague, and Famine
The Burp Heard Round the World
Help! Please Send Money
Jonathan answers biblical questions plaguing scholars for centuries

Whew!!!

2010-06-08T13:17:00.000-04:00

Just so you know I have been trying to blog for days now but blogger wouldn't let me. Seriously, it wasn't my fault. I mean we have some heavy stuff going on.

For one. My sister is in Africa. umm..Yeah, Africa!!!!!
What the crap!?!?
Africa!

I keep thinking of her at the most bizarre moments... for which I am grateful, because I use those moments to pray for her... That God would protect her from... well
Everything, she is in Africa!!!
From malaria, lions, crazy attack chickens on the bus, rhinos, monkeys.
Maybe you didn't hear me, she is in Africa!

The first time I randomly thought of her, I was in my van and Ray LaMontagne's "Shelter" came on.. which of course made me cry like a baby because.... my sister is in AFRICA.

The next time I randomly thought of her was late at night a few days ago, As you know we don't have cable, and you might also know when you only have a few antennae channels things get interesting late at night, so our best option was PBS fundraiser special, which after many years of Celtic Women , has now become Straight No Chaser.
And their big finish closing number is none other than TOTO's Africa.
It was obviously some kind of sign.

For the record, I hate it when people refer to the entire continent of Africa like a country. It's like saying you were going on a trip to North America when you were really just going to Canada.
Laura is spending most of her time in Uganda with a short stint in Rwanda.

I tried to embed a map but it wasn't working and I didn't have the patience to figure it out, so you can google it for your self.

P.S. Just in case there are any guys reading this, and happen to be impressed by my sister's backpacking trip alone (with two other girls), wrestling lions and working at orphanages. She's single. But I will warn you, this girl's a treasure and her brother and I don't plan to let just anybody have her.

My sister has many facets....

Many many facets.

Keys

2010-06-03T10:59:00.000-04:00

ths post s wrtten wthout any " "s, because that's what happens when your two year old son fnds your laptop on the coffee table. To a 2 yr old the most logcal thng to do wth a laptop s to rp off the keys. t happened a few weeks ago. We had some frends over and n an attempt to talk n peace we let hm watch Dnosaur Tran on my laptop. When we came over to check on hm he had taken the "" key off of the keyboard and rolled t up lke a swss cake roll (speakng of... one of those sounds delcous rght now). We were able to salvage the key, but you have to really press down hard to make the letter "i" to show up so most of the tme I have to go back and retype where I mssed the letter "". Which I am refusng to do for ths post.
The next day, went upstars and when came down found 7 keys removed, thankfully none were crnkled, but I am not sure have ever been that mad at my son, to date. t was one of those angers that you just have to leave to room, because f you open your mouth or attempt any form of dscplne you wll lose your own self- control, and well, that would be bad you know.
*********************************************************

Speakng of keys, we had a voce message on Tuesday from CVS Extra Care sayng that they had located our keys.
Uhh... what keys?
Everette, dd you lose keys? hmmm...
Our frst thought was that Everette dropped the church keys somewhere, so I went lookng for them.
I went out the to truck (I unlocked it from the house), but when went out to the the truck, the glove compartment and the center console were open, and things definately looked rummaged through. And the keys and the car charger, and his multi-purpose tool were no where to be found.

hmmm.....

I called Everette down and he went to check things out. I was headed to Indy for the day with my mother-n-law (under the guise of a fun outing, only later to learn her plan was to trap me in the hot sweaty car with my son for two and a half hours-I kid I kid!). So I called from the car, and they gacve me the number of the Sherriff.
As t turns out someone found the keys on the ground n our neighborhood, and there had been several other breakns n our neighborhood, the cars had all been unlocked. So we filed a polce report and when on about our day. Thnkng it was over and we really hadn't come out too bad, considering on many occasons Everette had been known to leave his wallet in his truck.
Although for the lfe of us, Everette and I can't figure out why they ddn't take the James Taylor Chrstmas CD in the truck.
And ts defntely tme to fnd a new guard dog.

Interestingly, the very next day, a representative from Protech security systems was at my door tryng to sell me a securty system. coincidence, I think not.
*sigh*
Especally, snce they seemed shocked when I said no.

opposites attract

2010-05-29T09:52:00.001-04:00

The following is an all too common interaction between Everette and me, involving all things entertainment.

Everette: Did you hear that Gary Coleman died?

to which I of course replied: What you talkin' bout Willis?

Everette: uhhh.... what?

Please feel sorry for me.

Lack of Content

2010-05-28T13:14:00.001-04:00

Due to my lack of verbal content. I decided to post another video.
This one is from our excursion to the Battlefield in April.
Jonathan is yelling "kerplunk!" as he drops the rocks into the water, but it is coming out like, "per-klump!"
I thought it was very cute at the time.. OK I still do.

Battlefield from Megan Mills on Vimeo.

20 days

2010-05-24T10:50:00.000-04:00

Today marks 20 day since my last post. Which is shameful really. There has been so much to share really. and so little time. I can hardly believe May is almost over.

You really deserve much better than this. 20 days with no posts is inexcusable. I wish I were different, but this is pretty much me.

So you just have to deal with it.
love you lots!
If this gives you any idication of the kind of weekend we had, my son fell asleep on my bed watching TV at 10:28 this morning, which has never in the history his short life, happened. never.
We are all pretty pooped over here.

My mom was hip!

2010-05-04T16:24:00.000-04:00

In an effort to take the contents of my blog away from poop, I am trying to talk about my mom more. In hopes that those two topics of conversation will not ever meet.
They say writing is like therapy.
Trust me.. if you have ever met my mom, then you know I need lots of therapy. If you haven't met my mom, and you think I am exaggerating or just being mean, just hop on over here, or here and it should clear things up.

Anyway, back to my mom being hip... hold on let's wait a minute for my mom to pick herself up off the floor because she can't believe I just said that.... in writing no less.
Relax mom, I'm not talking fashion-hip. You might dress pretty well now, but your crimes against fashion are too long and too cruel to ever be erased. The statute of limitations on vacuum cleaner haircuts, and puff painted and bedazzled sweatshirts has not run out.

I am talking about peanut butter. Nowadays, everybody is buying All Natural Peanut butter. It is totally hip to remove all of those additives and go back to the pure peanuts and peanut oil.
It is totally cool to refrigerate your peanut butter now.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, I was eating Smuckers all Natural Peanut Butter in 1985.

I can still hear my mother say in complete disdain, while reading the ingredients in other peanut butter, "why would you ever need to put anything in peanut butter besides peanuts... and maybe a little salt?"
Except in 1985 it wasn't cool to eat all natural peanut butter, choosy mom's chose JIF. JIF-that whipped, smooth, nutty, delicious peanut "spread".

I had to endure much ridicule from my friends (although in hindsight maybe it was the bejeweled puff painted sweatshirt I was wearing).

(this is not my sweatshirt, I found it on the Internet, but if you took off the dog, and slapped on a dolphin, you are pretty much there)

How I secretly longed for sweet creamy delicious JIF. I remember my cousin taking one look at our peanut butter and seeing the inch-and-a half layer of oil on top.. said, "uhhh, I think there is something wrong with your peanut butter." As he tilted the jar over the sink to pour it out, we all cried out "noooooo". "You have to stir it!!!"
I am pretty sure that incident sealed the deal for him. He already thought we were church -going freaks, but the oily peanut butter, now that was just plain crazy!
When I was out on my own, forging my way, being rebellious, bucking all the rules my parents laid out for me, Smuckers Peanut Butter was the first thing to go (and just for my own clarity, is it called independence when you live in an apartment above your parents garage? It did have a separate entrance).
I went out and bought the biggest jar of Extra Crunchy JIF you could find. In keeping with my new found independence, I boldly strutted down the bread aisle and in willful defiance picked up the whitest wonderbread on the shelf.

I went home and made a peanut butter, honey and banana sandwich... and it was good.
No more gritty peanut butter, just smooth creamy deliciousness.
In later years, I would happily settle for store brand peanut butter, but every time I wandered down the aisle, Smuckers would beckon me, calling me back.

Nearly a decade after leaving All Natural Peanut butter behind, we were eating PB&J's at my brother's house. He and his family had recently made the switch back to Smuckers. It tasted familiar, cozy, but better... Because Smuckers finally got some brains and whipped some honey into their all natural peanut butter. So the Honey flavor was built right in, you didn't have to get that sticky gooeyness all over your hands any more.

At the request of my husband, I reluctantly made the switch back to All Natural. And for the most part I am satisfied with my decision, I mean, I don't want my kid to be the freaky one eating UNnatural peanut butter! Except for the secret jar of JIF hidden in the back of my pantry I bust out on occasion (mmmm... hydrogenized soybean oil).

Sharing

2010-04-30T00:04:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago I took Jonathan to the Battlefield. We had a great time. The Battlefield is an intricate part of my childhood. I spent countless hours there in all seasons with my family, and friends and even by myself. In fact if there was any place as important to my growing up more than my home and possibly my church, it would be here.
I fell asleep under the stars on a blanket every summer listening to bluegrass music. In fact the day I slid off my bike and impaled my head on a piece of gravel, after a trip to Urgent care, I ended up on a blanket under the stars staring dreamily at a stage full of musicians in front of a patchwork quilt.
I waded in the creek as far as I dared, and threw rocks just a few feet more.
I spent my summers swimming in the concrete pool with it's rickety, spider-ridden bath house.
I hiked the trail to the top of Prophet's Rock. I found a nest of snakes. My brother, and sister and I scraped together enough spare change to buy my mother a bottle of Lilac perfume at the museum. I lingered in the coolness of the nature center, staring at eery stuffed racoons on the wall and fat squirrels gorging on birdseed through the window, to avoid going back out into the stifling summer heat.
I collected leaves for my school leaf collection.
I had countless picnics
played pooh sticks over the green painted bridge.
Got my senior pictures taken at the edge of the creek.
Photographed my sister for her senior portraits, my parents for their 25 wedding anniversary, the birth of a new baby, friends for pure amusement. I learned how to take pictures there.
I heard, and memorized the story of Tecumseh and the Prophets and their valiant yet futile efforts to preserve their way of life.
I went to Vacation Bible School, and Girl Scout Camp.
Spent time alone with God. Prayed.

Sat around in a picnic shelter discussing theology with my high school friends.
Picked violets for my aunt.
Witnessed the union of two of my dearest friends under the sycamore trees at the edge of the creek.
And a hundred more memories.

I intentionally took Jonathan there alone, so it could be a memory I had of us together. But only a few minutes sitting on "the rock" I had sat on so many times before, I couldn't resist calling my mom. Sadly she was working.
Carrying only my little point-and-shoot camera, I did my best to capture the experience.

These are the stairs leading down to the creek.
There are two ways-and only two ways to go down them. 1. The slower more cautious approach where you plant each foot on each step, giving you steady even footing. the other method...
2. One foot per step. The steps are just close enough for this to be possible, but wide enough that to take this approach gives one the feeling of recklessness and near flight.

Jonathan chose the two-footed method., he is cautious, like his mother.

This is the rock at the banks of the creek. The rock we climbed over and kept our shoes from getting wet, while we walked barefoot in the water, and sat on while we waited for our toes to dry.

This is the path that leads to the edge of the water.

Jonathan was enamored with the bridge.

I suddenly had new respect for my mother. All those years she watched us lean over, climb over, sit on the ledge of that bridge! That terrifying, unsafe concrete bridge.
I saw with new eyes that day.

Jonathan loved it.

There are likely dozens of pictures of me on that rock.

Jonathan had a little trouble not sliding off!

Thus begins the series of rock throwing. Jonathan was ambitious. He chose rocks the size of his head to toss.

Right here, this is where two of my oldest, dearest, most like family friends, got married.

I Shall Blame my Mother

2010-04-22T23:40:00.000-04:00

Or at least I shall try.
A few weeks ago we had a dinner party. Now it wasn't a fancy dinner party, but it was a dinner party nonetheless.
This is a rarity. Why? I will tell you why. My family is turning out to be quite large. With a sizeable contingecy of young children. Young.. energetic children. And whenever we get together, it just seems like the right thing to do to use paper plates and sharpied solo cups, unless it's a holiday and holidays are at my grammas. This is not negotiable.
And you cannot have a dinner party if you use paper plates. You simply cannot. It goes against nature.
The other reason is, all of my friends have young children and require paper plates and large jungle gyms to get together. Someday we might have a dinner party. Someday.
But a few fridays ago, a missionary visiting our church and some other church friends came over for dinner.
I spent the day preparing.
It was a great day. Everything went off without a hitch. The house looked good, the tables were set up, dinner prep was going well.
I had made broccoli salad the day before, as well as the Asian slaw dressing. The pork chops were cut, seasoned and ready to be grilled. The pototoes were roasting in the oven and the blackberry cobbler was ready to go in next.
Things were going so well, in fact, that I poured myself a glass of wine (I opened it for the potatoes..geesh).
I blame my mother for the events that followed.
In all the advice she has given me, she never mentioned it was unwise to drink while wielding a knife.

I continued in my preparations, at this time Everette was finished working and was downstairs helping me, and entertaining Jonathan (or you could say, just helping me).
***********Warning! The Following is NOT for the weak and faint of heart.*****

It was 5:56, and I began to slice the bread, to warm it in the oven.
At the exact moment, my son decided he had to poop (seriously, some day I am going to search my blog archives and count exactly how many of my posts mention poop-it must be some kind of record). So Everette took Jonathan upstairs. I heard them walking up the stairs as I began to cut the next slice of bread. The knife was sharp. So sharp that I was all the way through the side of my left index finger before I realized what happened.
I gasped.

Everette: What happened?
Now I am not sure about you, but in the following seconds after I injure myself- I am unable to speak. My body is assessing the pain, and all of the screaming rage is welling up inside me. I guess truthfully, I could speak, but if I opened my mouth during those few seconds streams of profanity and incredibly vile and offensive language would spew out of my mouth, along with several previously eradicated diseases. So I must keep my mouth shut. To Everette, however, this means something must be really wrong and his natural response is to ask again.
Everette: are you ok?
(This only brings more poisonous venom and boiling rage to the surface).
more pause
Me: I cut myself (as I quickly step to the sink and grab a paper towel.

Everette (hollering down from upstairs): Are you ok? Do you need to go the emergency room?
Me: I don't think so
I then take off the paper towel and look, before I could even get a good look, blood started dripping into the sink.
Crap! maybe I do need to go to urgent care. Did I cut through an artery? Do you have arteries in your fingers? uhh this is bad. Maybe I should go to urgent care. Nooo! People will be here at any minute! Who will bake the cobbler!?!?! OK Megan, get a grip, assess. You have seen eleven seasons of ER, your mom's a nurse. Ok-the blood is not spurting (as in with my beating heart) that's good. Pressure, you need to put pressure on it. OK where are the band-aids?

I walk to the bathroom to get the band-aids and peek out the front window, the first guest is here. Crap! This is the one time dinner guests are on time!
I run up the stairs passing Everette on the way down.
Me: People are here!
Everette: are you sure you are ok?
I ignored him as I ran upstairs.
I wrapped it in one band-aid but before I could even get it completely on, the blood started squeezing through the air holes in the band-aid.
So I slapped on another one.
Then I raced down stairs, to find that thankfully there was no blood anywhere to be found in the kitchen. Wouldn't that have been a lovely welcoming.

I took some Tylenol and kept my hand elevated, and somehow managed to make it through the evening.
But in the morning when I removed the band-aid and it started bleeding again, I decided I had better go to urgent care.
So I drove myself to Sigma Immediate care.
The doctor looked at my finger and after I told him the story, asked where the rest of the skin ended up. I looked at him.
"Seriously? " I said. " I am guessing down the sink or in the garbage."
"Well, I thought we might have tried to graft it on." he said.
"uhh sorry" I said.
So he told me he could cauterize it with Silver Nitrate.
I asked him if it would hurt, he said "yeah some." But then I remembered that Jonathan got his belly button cauterized when he was several months old and he did seemed to be too bothered. So I said go ahead.

HOLY FREAKIN' COW!!! That was some serious, serious, serious pain. I mean serious!! Like old-school-take-a-swig-of-whiskey-and-we- will-reset-your-bone pain. Only there was no whiskey and it took longer.
The doctor, when I was done told me that it was pretty much like a cigarette burn.
To which I replied, "thanks, I had always wondered, and now I know."
Then they left me alone to whimper in private.
Of course, because I love you guys I busted out my phone to take some pictures. But since I was quivering in pain, and trying not to pass out or lose my lunch, they were pretty much too blurry to see.
But never fear. I took some later!!

Don't look if you are a weenie.

This is probably the best over all picture. It was taken several days later, trust me this is an improvement.
The center is the actual cut, and the lovely dark part on the outside is otherwise healthy skin, a casualty of cauterizing.

I like to think the whole thing looks like an eyeball and I am just making finger puppets. Surprise! I was just practicing my "smokey eye" makeup strategies.

At this particular moment, I had a very slight infection going on down in there, and you can see the slight radiating red on the lower part of my finger.

And well... this one, I just like the artistic lighting I had going on here. So I figured you would too, and I really hate to disappoint all four of you. It is kind of like an artsy portrait.

I would like to take this opportunity to point out that I am a photographer, and I am available for your wedding or family photo shoot.
Thank you all for listening.
And remember, mom, this is all your fault! Who knew knives could be so dangerous?!

Beef-It's what for Dinner-

2010-04-19T15:20:00.000-04:00

I have a plethora of ground beef in my freezer... and of all meats-ground beef is not my favorite.
But I need to use it... Anyone have any great ideas??
Here are things I make already...
burgers (duh)
tacos
chili
spaghetti

I was looking for something a little more outside the box...

p.s. I do not like meatloaf,and I will not make it no matter how much you tell me its the best meatloaf you have ever had and you don't meatloaf either. It ain't happenin'.

back in the day

2010-04-19T00:30:00.001-04:00

Remember when the blog was supposed to be about my adorable son. And I would share super cute stories and post adorable pictures. Before I comandeered it with my own boring thoughts and social opinions.

The truth is Jonathan is growing up so fast. Everette was out of town at the beginning of this week so Jonathan and I had some alone time.
For the first time as we spent time together and he seemed to be just a little grown up.
In fact here is a list of things Jonathan can do all by himself.

1. Sleep all night in a Big Boy Bed without getting up.
2. Move chairs around the kitchen to reach objects on the counter.
3. Fill the dog bowl with dog food.
4. Carry his own booster seat to the table, place the booster seat in the restaurant booth and climb up all by himself.
5. Throw large boulders into the creek.
6. Push the shopping cart.
7. Run a 5K
8. Identify almost all the letters in the alphabet.
9. Find Goldbug on every page of Richard Scarry's Cars and Trucks and Things that Go faster than most of the grown up, including his dad, the reigning Goldbug Champion
10. Lasso a calf in 3.6 secs flat.
11. And finally, every mother's dream, my son has learned to burp on command.
I wish I could tell you I was joking. He discovered this ability all on his own. He hasn't completely refined his skills yet. I would put a video up but the truth is while I find it hilarious, it is not something I really want to encourage. But please take my word for it.
Jonathan can seriously burp on command... and end the national recession.
but has yet to master the potty.

***PUZZLES!! I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT PUZZLES! JONATHAN KICKS SOME SERIOUS BOOTY, WHEN IT COMES TO PUZZLES.**********

The last box of Thin Mints

2010-04-13T14:54:00.000-04:00

So we are down to our last box of Thin Mint Girls Scout Cookies, and I am sad to announce they will be our last. Ever.
A few days ago a friend sent me a link to an article from the Washington Times about The Girls Scouts and a UN forum.
I realize this article is written by the President of C-FAM (Catholic Family and Human Rights Institutes), and is pretty bias. But I did a little (emphasis on little) research on google, and the truth is I couldn't find very much disputing the articles claims. Other than the Girls Scouts flat out denying it. (Which if it's true for them, what else could they do?)

In fact what I did find were a few more articles along the same lines (from similar sites I admit).
Life News
C-FAM

an opposing view

Regardless of whether the pamphlet (more on that later) was actually distributed. As a parent I am uneasy with any organization banning the presence of parents (i.e. me).
Let me just say if my daughter was on a field trip to a UN conference, and I was asked to leave the room. You had better believe my daughter would be leaving with me. (Everette and I have already come to the realization that if we do have a girl, she will totally hate us, because she will be dressed in a sack cloth and won't be allowed out of the house)
So the pamphlet... I found a copy of the alleged pamphlet.
Yowsah!
There is a lot of BAD advice. The pamphlet is targeted to youth who are HIV positive or involved with someone who is.
But the truth is there is some serious bad advice for ANYONE at any age or any background period .
Read it for yourself if you don't believe me. The pamphlet is entitled "Happy Healthy and Hot". The dream of every mother of a preteen daughter.
And if anyone ever presents this to my kid as solid factual advice... you are going to see a whole lotta fury from this momma bear. I am not going to fight the political fight about sex education in schools. The truth is.. in a secular world... this is what makes sense to them. I'm not saying it's right for them, I am just saying it makes sense to them.
But I am going to fight the fight when it comes to what my children are taught. While I am not sure how that will play out in the future, I fervently believe it is my right and responsibility to talk to my kids about sex and what God thinks about it. Sorry, this is one of those platforms I like to stand on. But hey-it's my blog!!

At the very least Girl Scouts have been linked repeatedly (and the YMCA as well) to Planned Parenthood, which does a lot of things I am not cool with.
So anyway back to the cookies... When I was teaching I chose not to join in the Union., in a school that was HEAVILY unionized. Emphasis on heavily... I was one of three nonunion, I know this because if you were not in the union there was a big loud sticker on your mailbox. And I was repeatedly pressured to join. My decision was in large part because the NEA shares some of their funding with some organizations I am not interested in sending my money to.
So in light of that decision, I now had another choice. I could pretend that this whole Girls Scout debacle isn't important and that it doesn't matter and keep buying Girl Scout Cookies or take a personal stand and choose not to support something I don't agree with.
It is a hard line to straddle between being too crazy militant, and being completely apathetic. But the truth is Everette and I don't consume enough GS cookies to significantly hinder our neighborhood girls cookie sales. But if I stopped buying them, I don't have to feel guilty stuffing my face with Thin Mints knowing I am telling girls casual sex will make you happy.
So Everette and I decided we're done buying Girl Scout cookies.And truthfully, they really don't taste that great all of a sudden anyway.
And for some reason, I was unable to keep this decision to myself. So I had to purge myself and spew my personal and political beliefs all over you. But its my blog and I can if I want to.
so there.

How my mother almost got me kicked out of bible study... A therapy session.

2010-04-08T17:10:00.003-04:00

Have you ever "gotten the giggles"? In an inappropriate place?
I can probably count on one hand the number of times it has happened to me. It happened today.
I was sitting in the sanctuary at Kossuth Baptist this morning, pen and notebook in hand, getting ready to hear the Bible Study Fellowship Lecture, minding my own business.
I looked over at my mom next to me, and noticed her BSF homework had a large brown water stain right down the crease. She then had distractedly doodled around the stain with blue ink. So that it was no longer merely an embarrassing blemish wrinkling her paper, it now held a place of honor alongside her answers to questions of Peter's denial.
I let out a quiet snort to indicate that she had been found out.
She looked at me with this sheepish look, gave me a half-smile and said, "it's not what you think."
Then we made eye-contact and exchanged secret mother-daughter knowing glances.
And I felt the laughter stirring.
I tried to squelch it, but out it came. Thankfully I was able to keep it muted, but muted uproarious laughter sounds like old man-wheezy laugh, and it is really quite painful.
The laughter continued. My shoulders were shaking, my eyes were burning, I couldn't breathe. But as much as I was trying to stop laughing, I was desperately trying to not make a sound and not draw attention to myself (or my mother who's shoulders were shaking right along with me). Of course, we were sitting in the front, and to make matters worse, we were not discussing trivial topics. BSF on any day would hardly be described as a carnival cruise ship (maybe pontoon boat), but today we were talking about the arrest and trial of Jesus. I can hardly imagine a more inappropriate time to laugh.
However, like a leaky oil well, the laughter bubbling up from inside me was not capping itself anytime soon. I also made the mistake of looking down again at that brown stain on the paper and on my way up I made eye-contact with my mom, bringing new eruptions of laughter. And I began to squeeze my eyes shut and plan my escape route. I tried desperately to think of sad things, and I was imagining myself to be the first woman ever force-ably removed from a BSF lecture. Not to mention the spectacle that would follow as they tried to cast out the demons (because really, what person in their sound mind would laugh at the betrayal of Christ). I won't lie, I was sending prayers for help (although I wonder how they were perceived as I am sure they arrived on bursting bubbles of laughter.
During a brief pause in the spewing fountain, I was able to take a deep breath, followed by another. Mercifully, the laughter was stilled, and I was able to regain composure with only a few hiccups. I certainly could not look in my mom's direction, so I steeled my gaze at the teaching leader and focused my thoughts on the 600 soldiers that came to arrest the unarmed Christ. A sobering thought on any occasion.
I learned at the end of the lecture, that the water stain did not happen in her purse, instead something in a cooler in her trunk leaked out onto her paper, laying in the truck.
Yes mom, you are right, that is not the same at all.
I'm just REALLY glad I didn't have to pee.

"Mom, I have fum at da Brachiosaurus."

2010-04-06T12:05:00.000-04:00

I realize that this post might not be as late as some of my others, but I was already in bed, and got up to post. So that has to count for something.

Have you ever had one of those days, that was just so perfect, it was almost surreal?
Today was one of those days, and I cannot stop thinking about it.

"Mom, I have fum at da Brachiosaurus." This is what my son said to me in the car moments before he completely passed out.

The Brachiosauras is, to my son anyway, the Indianapolis Children's Museum. In case you haven't been there in a while, they created a new entrance and there is a giant brachiosaurus peeking in the window. It is pretty amazing.

One of the greatest joys of being a parent is watching your child discover and fall in love with something that you yourself love.
Both Everette and I grew up going to the children's museum; our feelings toward the place are pretty mutual. And in 25+ years not a tremendous amount has changed. Of course there are new exhibits, but there are many that are the same. I remember climbing up the spiraling ramp to the highest level to play with the locks, and getting lost looking at all the miniature houses and villages.

I remember the train.

I remember the water clock.

The Children's Museum is magical. It is a giant building filled with wonderful things, that invite you to touch and experience. There are no ropes keeping you away from the glass, instead there are portals inviting you to crawl through and stand inside the exhibit.

You don't have to keep your hands to yourself or use your inside voices. You can explore, and imagine, and build,

and dig, and learn, and wonder.

I will admit when we first came in, the new entrance was so different, I was sad. I was grieving a lost chance to share something with Jonathan, I remember so fondly.
But thankfully, the entrance was only a facade, and once inside the layout had not changed.
We began at the dinosaurs...
and moved to the trains, where we could have stayed for the rest of the day.

In fact, leaving the trains was the only moment, Everette and I wondered, if we were really up for this adventure. But we carried on.
We then climbed to the top level to play in the water,

and the trains were a distant memory... but not forgotten.

Quite honestly, I am not sure who had more fun.

and then the carousel...

It was at the carousel I had an epiphany. We were scrounging around our wallets trying to find an acceptable form of currency to purchase our carousel tokens. At first, it looked like I would only be watching, as we were having difficulty finding what we needed. But we figured it out. Once we all had tokens we moved to the line, I read (for the first time) about the history and restoration of the carousel.
Our turn came quickly, and as I suspected, once we boarded the carousel, Jonathan (a.k.a Indiana Jones)

got a little uneasy. He was hesitant to sit on the horse.

Everette strapped him in anyway and stood close, while Jonathan clung tightly to his shirt.

I hopped up on the lion next to him.
The carousel started to spin and the calliope started to play and I thought about the history of this beautiful ride. And I began to see the magic of the carousel. I thought about the millions of children, small and grown who had climbed aboard these horses and pretended to fly.
I am not sure I can explain what I felt as watched My son ride his first carousel and quickly overcome his fears and fall in love as he looked up at the twinkling stars. I can only tell you there was a lump in my throat and a few tears stung my eyes.

And then, as quickly as it came, the music stopped and the carousel slowed, it it was over.
We headed downstairs for lunch, and finished the afternoon with Big Bird and Elmo at the planetarium.

(

(We took this picture waiting for the show to start. I think it's hilarious!!!! And very telling of our deliriously happy day!)

Perfect for a tired two-year old.

Jonathan, I had fun at the Brachiosaurus too.

Please notice the cookie face to complete the day....

Everette and Jonathan thank you for sharing such a magical day with me!

Dear Emily

2010-04-04T11:30:00.001-04:00

Dear Emily,

Ten years from now when your mom tells you that your cousin is coming over for the afternoon, and you roll your eyes and sigh because your cousin is a pimply-faced prepubescent smelly preteen boy with braces and bad breath, who talks about playing dungeons and dragons all day. And you, are a spunky beautiful blond-headed ball of sweetness.

Please remember that you used to play together. You used to run together, and hold hands, and share, and laugh together.

You used to take tubbies together, and splash every bubble out of the tub, cackling hysterically.

Try to remember you used to climb all over things together, and share your toys, and your food, and your diapers and your clothes.

People used to think you were twins, as you giggled and toddled around.

Remember when you used to ride in the wagon together to go feed the donkeys

Try to remember these things when your dorky cousin comes to visit. Try to also understand that this phase will pass (I hope). Some day soon, he will grow out of his awkward goobery phase. He will grow up and stop talking about boogers and farts (well mostly... at least in public). And maybe then you can be friends again.
Maybe then you can teach him that girls don't like to be farted on, and that girls appreciate it when a boy takes the time to shower once a month, and maybe, just maybe, use deodorant. And that they like it when you hold doors open for them.

Maybe you can tell him when he has put on too much cologne, and when his room is beyond disgusting.
Maybe you can teach him how to be nice to girls.
And maybe, when your big brother is off to college, you can keep your cousin around, to keep those silly boys away. Or drive you places (since he will get his license before you).
And maybe you can talk about how totally ridiculous and unfair your parents are being, when they never let you date (other people). Or you can roll your eyes together at family events.

Emily, this is your aunt talking, and I am invoking that special Aunt-Niece bond. I am begging you, please don't forget, that you were friends with that strange creature.

Remember that once you were friends.

Lots of love,
Aunt Meg

If Robin Hood ate Little John and Friar Tuck AND was Drunk

2010-04-03T20:24:00.002-04:00

Last Friday we went to a hockey game in Indianapolis. We being, Everette, my dad, my nephew, and of course me (thus making it "we" not "they"). It was the last of the tickets in a bunch Everette got for me for Christmas.
We had a great time. But this curious scene unfolded in the seats in front of us.

There was this guy (let's call him Sasquatch). He was in two rows in front of us. He was a Big guy. And "big" is a relative term. And it is relative to... me. He had wild big hair, and a wild big beard. Everything about this guy was big.

Anyway.. in an effort to make money, as the seats in the Pepsi coliseum continue to empty, the Indiana Ice people decided that selling beer wasn't enough. So they now sell cocktails.
And this guy had one empty one at his feet and a full one in his hand (and they were large cocktails). I am guessing this wasn't the sum total of alcohol in his stomach because.... seriously this was a big dude. And this dude was already talking loud.
Let me also say, that I don't care that people drink. I love people who drink. I drink. But I am very uncomfortable around people who are drunk. Even people I know and love. Drunk people are unpredictable. They make me very uneasy. And having an unconventional college experience, I haven't been around that many people who are drunk.
So this guy was seriously distracting me. He was randomly high-fiving people who walked by. I was anxious and having heart palpitations. Not to mention my 7-year-old nephew was sitting next to me.
At one point these two "event girls" came over and started talking to him, trying to get him to participate in a trivia game. Thankfully he had enough sense to decline.
He did however, loudly, petition a guy a few rows over to play the trivia game in his place. He also cheered him on belligerently, when the guy actually played the trivia game. (Which incidentally, I would have totally kicked butt at).
Later in the game they came out in the crowd to throw T-shirts.
One t-shirt was thrown to our left near the front of our section. Whoever it was thrown to, missed and it fell to the stair case below. A young boy (maybe 4) and his mother jumped up to try to snag it. But apparently the guy who dropped (we will call him the Grinch) from upstairs beat them to it, and refused to give it to the boy. So the boy and his mother returned dejectedly to their seats.

Sasquatch was a bleary-eyed witness to the whole ordeal. And began to bellow at the injustice.
He started shouting "Give the t-shirts to the kids!" "Hey man! let the kids have the shirts!"
"hey A**hole! Give the shirt to the kid"
The Grinch did what every other normal person does when they hear a drunk person shouting. Avoid eye-contact and pretend not to hear him.
Sasquatch would not let it go. He got up out of his seat and walked over to the Grinch.
At this moment there could have been an all out brawl on the ice and I wouldn't have noticed. I was fixed on the drama between Sasquatch and the Grinch.
I couldn't hear what they were saying, but eventually Sasquatch got up and left, without the shirt.
Sasquatch left the seating area all together for a while.
He returned... with a beer and a t-shirt. He made his way down to the little kid and his family.
Sasquatch bought the kid a t-shirt. From where I was sitting I could see the kids face. On it an expression of sheer joy... peppered with a heavy dose of fear.

There was apparently a catch.
As an expression of gratitude, Sasquatch requested a fist bump. The little boys eyes widened in terror.

I could physically see his wheels turning. "How badly do I want this t-shirt? Can I get my parents to buy it? What will this guy do if I refuse? Will he eat me?"
With some cajoling from his older brother, the boy eventually bumped.
I myself was torn between my own uneasiness, and this overt act of kindness.

It seems Robin Hood was incognito last Friday. I would hate to see Maid Marian.

Why Me?

2010-03-25T20:08:00.000-04:00

Tuesday evening I was driving home with Jonathan from Everette's parents house. I was chatting with Everette on the phone (we were doing our family bedtime ritual when Daddy is away). Jonathan had just returned the phone to me... Then all of a sudden. Out of NOWHERE! My son vomits. Everything he had eaten that day.
Everything.
I told Everette I would call him back.
Then I debated whether to pull over or keep driving. We were about half way finished with the 15 minute trip. Ultimately I decided to keep driving, because really, what was I going to do on the side of the highway in the dark. Spread it everywhere and get it all over me. That's what I would do.
Poor Jonathan was a super trooper. He made these pitiful cries every once in a while. Who could blame him. It was all over his hands.
It was only a few seconds later when the smell invaded.
I have to say, I can handle all sorts of blood and guts. Exposed bone, etc. But I have two kryptonites: puke and large amounts of snot.They make me a little weak in the knees.
Needless to say I rolled down all the windows.
When we got home, I had to figure out the best way to remove the offender and the offended car seat.
I opted for one fell swoop. I very carefully reached around Jonathan to unlatch the cursed car seat latch system. Lifted the whole thing up and set it on the garage floor.
I took a deep breath and began to unbuckle Jonathan. Then I looked at him, and looked at myself. How was I going to get him upstairs...
I didn't trust him to walk it. But I sure as heck didn't want to hold him!
I grabbed the towel I spread under his carseat (Best mommy idea I EVER had-- that sucker has saved me more than once... last minute carseat removal to carry an adult passenger, gasp in horror at the crumbly crud collected under the seat-- pick up corners of the towel, and flick the crud on the ground. The seat is clean and crumb free!--and you don't have to apologize profusely for the seat they are about to sit in, the floor, however, is another matter). I wrapped him up like a burrito in the towel and carried him upstairs.
Then I stripped his clothes, I thought about calling for the jaws of life to remove his shirt... since it was a t-shirt and my son has a HUGE head, (Like Father like son) it seemed like too much to attempt. But we braved the neck hole.
Then into the tub, where I sent up a prayer of thanks for the detachable sprayer. Jonathan played in the tub while I went down to tackle the car seat. I will spare you the details, but I will say, the next car seat I buy, I will be taking that sucker apart before I purchase. Why on earth are there deep pockets in the plastic base?! Do you know what collects down there? Puke, that's what.
I will be making sure EVERY buckle and latch comes off.

The rest of the week has been full of more bodily fluids. Jonathan woke up the next morning with a super full poopy diaper. That kid has had his quota of tubbies for the month.
On the bright side... I have been meaning to clean Jonathan's car seat for a while.
I just want to know why all this crap happens when Everette is out of town?

Pancakes!

2010-03-21T21:50:00.000-04:00

so this most is as much for me as anyone else. Making pancakes is not as easy as it seems.I made some tonight and they were pretty amazing. So I'm gonna write
it here so I can remember later.

1 batch makes 10 medium sized pancakes.

1 1/2 cups of SELF-RISING flour (this is very important).
1 T sugar
1/4 t of salt
1t of baking powder
1/4 t baking soda

4T of cold butter
1 egg, beaten
1c buttermilk
1T vanilla

mix dry ingredients together.
cut in cold butter with pastry cutter til crumbly
add buttermilk, egg and vanilla

heat griddle and melt butter.
cook pancakes at 375

VARIATION: banana pancakes... make as above, slice banana, and pour thin layer of batter onto griddle add slices of banana and cover with more pancake batter.. make sure bananas are not exposed as they will burn and taste yucky!

If you don't have self rising flour I would suggest doubling the baking powder.

Freak Show

2010-03-18T21:01:00.000-04:00

The circus has come to town, and they are staying at our house.
Actually it's more like a dog and pony show... without the ponies... ponies would be nice.

We are dog sitting Everette's parents dogs for a few days. And this is how my day started.

7:15 AM the alarm went off. Actually all three alarms went off. The battery operated alarm, the radio in the bathroom, and the fail safe alarm in the next room. Unfortunately, that alarm doesn't have a snooze, and it is one of those annoying alarms that only gets louder with time.

7:25 AM (yes I said 7:25 don't judge me).I went to retrieve the sounding alarm. Brought it into bed and turned it off with PBS and milk. Yes again. don't judge me.

8:10 AM begin to rouse. Everette and I begin to alternate trips to the bathroom. Think about old we are getting.

8:20 AM Everette's dad arrives with the dogs. A flurry of wagging tails and butt sniffing ensues.

8:40 AM We herd all the dogs upstairs and hop back into bed for some more snuggle time. We are big snugglers over here.

9 AM go downstairs with all three dogs to make breakfast. Let dogs outside and enjoy relative peace and quiet.

9:10 AM peek outside to check on dogs. Things are fine. Continue making breakfast

9:20 Go outside with jonathan in my bare feet to collect dogs. Realize two of the dogs have escaped the electric fence and have wandered into the neighboring yards and one found a petrified marshmallow to chew on. Attempt to call them.
Quickly realize the whole power balance of this dog pack is off. My dog suddenly doesn't think he has to listen to me. The others are too fascinated with all of the new smells to notice me. Not to mention that one is almost completely blind and largely deaf. However I am in my bare feet and we haven't scooped poop since August and I am not going out there. So I begin to call more loudly and more impatiently. I finally get two dogs in (along with Jonathan) and stomp my feet to get the blind one to follow the sound of my feet to the door.
Meanwhile, my dog tries to slip past me in a desperate attempt to retreive his marshmallow.
In a fit of rage I grab him by the collar and drag him into the house while he coughs and hacks from his restricted airway. While this may sound cruel-and it probably is... please believe me that this is an incredible exercise in restraint on my part.

9:30 AM Continue to herd the dogs and my son up the stairs to Everette's office in hopes to take a shower in peace. Cursing the layout of my house.
You see... my house is a figure 8 with my stairs right at the cross, which means the dogs have two other escape routes in addition to the stairs. Three if they can manage a 360 and slip past me.
At this point I am shouting both out of anger and so blind/deaf dog can hear me and stop wandering aimlessly around the house. Cursing myself for letting the situation get so totally out of control and making it worse as the dogs sense my frustration.
At one point my dog defiantly ran away from me. which brought me to a boiling point and I am sad to say that I smacked my dog hard on his rump.
As I herd them chaotically up the stairs and down the hall to the office pounding on the wall so blind/deaf dog will follow along, I open the office door and Everette yells at me, because... he is... working....on the phone... in his office... where he works... and I am screaming like a possessed woman in the hallway.
So I turn the dogs around and take them into the bedroom.

9:40 AM With child and dogs trapped in the bedroom I turn on the shower. All along I had planned to take Jonathan in the shower with me (it had been a while people, and it wasn't going to happen that night either). Quickly began to regret this decision. Jonathan became a clingy whiny baby (imagine that... what audacity). He likes the shower, but he likes you to hold him in the water.. so much for cleaning.

10 AM I open the shower door and step on blind/deaf dog (because he didn't hear/see the door open and I was holding whiny/clingy baby).
Try to get dressed in my bedroom that has become a labyrinth of doggie beds. Remember when you were little and you used to hop around on things pretending the floor was burning hot lava? You could have a great time doing that in my bedroom.

10:20 everyone is mostly decent and mostly calm and I herd the dogs down the hallway back to Everette's office. I apologize for screaming like a wild banshee and the dogs get settled.

10:30AM I go down to make sack lunches for the park.

11:00 AM Jonathan and I head out to the garage to load up. I open Jonathan's door for him to climb in, run in realizing I forgot something. Head back to the car, hop in, hit the auto door close, turn on the car. As I reach to put the car in reverse, I gasp as I realize I never actually buckled jonathan in. I look back and realize he isn't in his seat! I punch the auto door button and it changes directions. I turn off the car and run around to see my son halfway into the car, totally unphased.
Send up repeated prayers of thanks. buckle my son in, and head back to the drivers seat.
Stop. take a breath. try to slow my pulse and regain the strength in my knees as I reel from the prospect of both squishing my son in the door or running him over.
Realize I am WAY too stressed out mostly of my own making and I need to get a grip!

11:13 AM pull out of the drive way headed to our 11 AM play date.
welcome to the Freak Show that is my life... mostly me.
****************************************
some of you might read this and think I am being a little crazy about the dogs. And I would just like to say:
1. you are right I am and largely for no good reason--I have issues.
2. I am not a dog person.. and I am definitely not a multiple dog person.
3. Everette's parents dogs are getting along in years, and have a history of relieving themselves of... whatever, in some dark corner of your house when you aren't looking. So I am obsessed with letting them out often and keeping them in eyesight at all times.

On that note: Mary and WL if you are reading... we are ending day two and your dogs have been really good. I am starting to relax a little. and I think we'll all make it! And don't feel bad about leaving your dogs with me-- it is really mostly me being psycho, and I am sooooooooooooooooooooooooo indebted to you. I already have years of backlogged babysitting and dog-sitting hours. We are getting a system and it is working fine. I promise.

Irony

2010-03-16T15:56:00.000-04:00

In my last post I mentioned my mom's self-acknowledged disdain for cooking. My mom has made some... interesting food for us through the years. Her biggest problem aside from the psychological pains of being in the kitchen period, is her troublesome theory, that she knows better than the recipe. She can take a recipe and completely disregard critical ingredients. Substituting them for things like applesauce or omitting them all together
It would be impossible to list all of her concoctions, but let's do a few eh?

1. Soy ice cream--this she made for desert on Father's day. A real treat. Now we have some family that occasionally abstain from dairy products when this might be acceptable. But Father's Day was not such an occasion.
2.Sumo wrestling yeast rolls. Yeast rolls that mom has allowed to rise too long and their fat bellies lop over the side of the muffin tin.
3. cottage cheese and (insert your least favorite flavor of )jello.
4. Lasagna with tofu.
5. pudding with tofu. ( I could spend a whole day on tufu and the gross things my mom has done with it).
6. brownies made with applesauce (while I realize many of these may seem like my mother's unappreciated attempts at making us eat healthy--I assure that is not completely the case-for some reason these are what come to mind--I have issues).
7.There is only one way to eat steak in my mom's kitchen. Extra crispy.
At any moment in time you can open up my mom's fridge and find some dark, slimy something. Pick it up in order to dump it, assuming it was something old and forgotten, and my mom will say, "wait, don't get rid of that, that is such and such. I am eating it for lunch.

There are a few things that I remember mom making really well.
1. Pizza from the Battle Ground pizza king (hey-somebody had to place the order).
2. Ham and bean soup (even as a really young kid, I remember loving it.)
3. Pot roast. I remember my mom making killer pot roast. Eating it on Sundays after church.

So here's the irony. After posting about how I am becoming like my mom... I made a pot roast.
It was not good.
I can't really say what happened. It was some bizarre combination of over and under cooked. I followed the recipe, and it still turned out whack. Not inedible, but not melt in your mouth delicious.
So I have decided to make it my personal mission to make an awesome pot roast. Good thing I have about four down in my freezer. (you get lots of roasts when you buy a quarter of a cow).
I'll let you know how it turns out.

My mother has a hex on her.

2010-03-09T22:11:00.000-05:00

You may have read this in my previous posts (if not.... what they heck is your problem?), and thought it was a joke. But it is not.
My mom is cursed.

Before I go any further I need to explain a couple of things.
1. I am 28 (ack!) I realized when I was 20 that I am slowly (or quickly) turning into my mother. My mom is a lot like her mom and has spent several decades denying it. I am taking a different approach. I am embracing it head on. Shortly after I had the aforementioned epiphany, I realized that although there are lots of things that drive me batty about my mom, when it comes right down to it.. she is pretty awesome. And there are, in fact, a lot of qualities I would like to have from her. So if, in order to obtain the good, I have to take with them all the bad, I willingly succumb to the transformation, and consider myself the better for it. The other advantage to this approach, is that since I know that I already do and will continue to have them as life goes on, I believe it gives me full license to tease my mother mercilessly. And she, in good spirit, takes what she so often invites.

2. the other important fact is, one way in which we differ. My mother does not cook. I would say cannot, but I think it is more of a disdain than an ability issue. I may not be the most gourmet of chefs, but it is something I really enjoy.

My mother does however, love to make drinks. No, not the adult kind, although more than once I found a funny tasting Sprite can laying around the kitchen counter, in my youth. Whenever we have a family get together, mom is in charge of the drinks. She has a famous punch recipe, requested by anyone who knows her.
She loves to experiment with mixing different flavors and trying bizzare new beverages.
In fact I will end this post with her fantastic no calorie Kool-Aid recipe.

Just to keep you hanging on.

I think this drink mixing obsession is getting a little carried away.
A few days ago, I opened my fridge after my mom had visited and found this.

That's right folks, three opened cans of soda.

Allow me to explain. They were opened, because my mom made herself a suicide (you know when you mix all the soda at the soda fountain together in your giant 789 oz cup). Only she made it in a glass at my house with canned pop.

The Coke Zero is to maintain the original coke flavor with few calories and to avoid the evil Aspartame.
The Caffeine Free Diet Pepsi is because in my mom's old age she is a little sensitive to caffeine... and lettuce (ironically, not cabbage... homegirl can eat cabbage by the bag-- love ya mom!). And finally the cherry coke, for the cherry flavor, because my ma loves cherry!

And because she probably hasn't discovered that Coca Cola makes Cherry Coke Zero too.

But I still haven't gotten to the hex.
In my mother's quest for hydration she carries her beverages with her. She has a collection of bottles and cups for her every beverage needs. She has
water bottles,

McDonalds coffee cups,

Family Express fountain drink cups.... And she likes to carry these cups... in her purse. Her problem is, she repeatedly, fails to properly seal these cups. And they spill... all the time..in her purse! All the time!!!!
Her purses smell like coffee and Soarin' Roarin' Strawberry Lemonade.

Seriously, this is my future here. I do not make this stuff up.

This has been going on for many years, my mom has shown me important papers wrinkled with coffee stains. I myself, have been the recipient of birthday cards, checks and cold hard cash, sweet smelling and pale pink. This curse has even parlayed into the occasional soup dump. If it is liquid, it has been in the bottom of my mom's bag.

Most recently my mom and I were embarking on a great adventure. We were headed east to visit my aunt in Cleveland. (sorry Nancy, I couldn't resist!)

It was just the two of us and Jonathan. I picked her up and we were headed out the door with the final load of her stuff (you would be amazed at the amount of stuff two adults and a toddler can generate). I had her bags and she had Jonathan. I watched as she stuck her Big chug into her purse.

My subconscious said "mom, is the lid on?" But I thought surely, she would have put the lid on, surely she has learned her lesson. So I kept my mouth shut. Giving her the benefit of the doubt.

She put her bag down to buckle Jonathan in the back seat. I went around to start the car. My mom picked up her purse and eased her self into her seat, as she was pulling the door closed, I heard an expletive escape her mouth. Now in my mom's defense, she rarely swears. So I knew it must be something bad.
Then I watched as she leaned back out the door, pinched her bag closed the way you strain a pot so as not to lose the contents, tipped her purse and poured 32 ounces of Soarin' Roarin' Strawberry lemonade goodness out of her mercifully red purse onto the driveway.

At this point there was nothing to do except for both of us to erupt into hysterical laughter. Gut-busting, eye-watering, head-rearing laughter. The laughter continued for miles as my mom proceeded to empty the contents of her purse, asses the damage and pitifully blot them with paper towels. Which she tried to refuse when I first offered them.
The laughter reprised at every rest stop as my mom attepmted to sort through her pile to find money only to find it pink and wet, and finally when we reached her destination and her purse contents were sprawled out in the bedroom drying by fan.

The important lesson learned here is to never offer to carry my mom's drink in your bag. Please, I beg you.
And if this ever happens to me even once.... please someone slap me. Hard.

See you thought I forgot....
Soarin' Roarin' Strawberry No Calorie Kool-Aid
1 gallon jug
2 pckts SR Strawberry Lemonade
9 pkts Raw Stevia
3-4 pkts of Splenda
water

Heat 1 c of water in microwave and mix in all powders to dissolve. add to rest of water, taste, add splenda if necessary.
Other variations... sometimes my mom adds a little diet Hawaiian Punch or Ocean Spray cranberry juice, just to keep it interesting.
However, I must warn you to imbibe at your own risk... I am not sure if the hex is contagious!

Bow to my awesomeness!

2010-03-08T20:57:00.000-05:00

I promise to get back to the "my mother has a Hex on her" story... but I just had to post this.

Honey,
you would be so proud.
Seriously... if there was ever a moment in your life when you should be proud of me (in addition to the time I allowed my self to be strapped to a table and in order for the doctor to bring, by force, our son into the world) this is it!

So I just embedded a video from Youtube on a previous post. No big deal. everybody does it right?
Right.
Except after I posted it I realized that the video was significantly larger than my blog column. So what did I do????
I clicked "Edit HTML", I read the code, found the line that determined the video width. and changed it and it worked.
That is right. I read computer code, and I edited it. All by myself. Everette isn't even home for backup!
Suhweet!

You may all take a moment to marvel in my awesomeness.

Seriously, I'm waiting...

just a little more.

in other news.... look at the video!

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming...

2010-03-08T20:28:00.002-05:00

For this special announcement...
So there is this blog that I drop in on occasionally, and he is currently on a Compassion BLogging trip... which is GENIUS by the way!!!!

I have been hopping around to some of hte other blogs and found this video that seems worth sharing.... it is long but worth the watch.
You can say what you want about Compassion, but the truth is they are taking Christ where a Lot of us would not dare to go.

an amalgamation

2010-03-06T10:29:00.000-05:00

1 a : the action or process of amalgamating : uniting b : the state of being amalgamated

I am going to take several different completely unrelated topics and unite them in one blog post. Because I can...

First of all... Everette's grandmother is in the hospital. First first of all.... I have mentioned this before, but since it can be confusing, Everette has an uncle Everette. He is his mother's brother, and lives with his family in lafayette, You may remember his eldest was the hiker lost in the woods in Washington. just wanted to clarify so you know who I am referring to when I say Uncle Everette. also on that note, he has a mother Mary, a grandmother Mary, an aunt Mary Lain, which he also shares the middle name Lain with his father and one cousin. Who's with me now. Oh and his uncle Everette is John Everette which John was his father's name. Thursday, I got a call from Everette's wife Sharon, telling me that Grandmommie was in the hostpital and she couldn't get a hold of Mary (Everette's mom) or Uncle Everette (who was in Atlanta at the time). She told me Grandmommie had congestive heart failure. Which to me sounds really bad. Anything with the words heart and failure together sounds pretty bad. Thankfully my mom was with me when I received the call. She explained that while it was seroius, it was also pretty common and pretty treatable. So after several phone calls everybody who needed to know, knew, and I went back to waiting. Everette's mom is in Alabama (where his grandmother's live) and she and uncle Everette are dealing with things as they come. The Doctors seem pretty hopeful. The biggest issue is up until now, Everette's 90 year old grandmother has been living alone, and that just doesn't seem safe any more. So figuring all of those details out now will be difficult.

On another note... February is gone! Spring is coming whether it wants to or not.
We have ordered our seeds and we are setting up our makeshift greenhouse!

In other news... Jonathan drew his first unassisted circle this month.

and I invented a new kind of pizza. It's Peanut Butter Pizza and it's delicious!

take a flatbread pita, toast it. Spread your favorite peanut butter (crunchy foor me). top with Bananas and matchstick carrots (or any other fruit veggie combo--the carrots are important because they look like cheese) and drizzle with honey!!!

and coming soon....

my mom has a hex on her. details to follow.

What in the world???

2010-02-27T22:55:00.000-05:00

So here it is almost eleven o'clock and I am watching a Help Haiti Live Concert sponsored by Compassion featuring some Christian bands..old school and new school and Alison Krauss (which I unfortunately missed!)
Anyway... they are having an auction and they are auctioning off some pretty cool things... a gibson guitar. tickets and backstage passes for Dave Matthews this summer. passes to Hannah Montana tapings (if you are into that).
However... by far the highest selling item on this whole dang auction is a three night stay at the Pioneer Woman's Lodge. It is going for double the gibson guitar (the second highest item) for a whopping $1625.00 (with 9 hours left). Good Grief!!
Not to mention you still have to get to her super remote location in Oklahoma. I don't know why, but this strikes me as so strange... I mean great for her, and compassion, but she is up against Dave Matthews!! A year ago I wouldn't have had a clue who Pioneer Woman even was!
Her husband did take their oldest daughters on a Compassion trip to visit their sponsored child, which is cool.

Crazy Cuteness

2010-02-26T14:08:00.000-05:00

Here is another video of Jonathan and his cousin Emily. We had the pleasure of watching Emily one evening in early January. Again I realize that was over a month ago... but this is how I operate. You should all be kissing my feet because I am even taking the time to post them. Because it takes FOREVAH!!!!
When we found out my sister-in-law was pregnant and due only a few months after me, we all knew it would be so much fun to watch them grow up together, but in knowing this, I think, even we have highly underestimated the pleasure it brings.
Watch....
And try not to let your heart melt into a little puddle.

And please excuse Everette's belly shirt. It really isn't, even though it looks like one. And while it would be easy for me to poke fun, precious footage of a father playing with his son, and an uncle playing with his niece is worth far more than an easy joke.
In short, it is far more meaningful to me that my husband loves to play and takes time to play than how fashionable he is. I love him. So I will refrain.

Jonathan and Emily--besties. from Megan Mills on Vimeo.

Something to watch

2010-02-24T22:39:00.000-05:00

Since I have already confessed my shameless love of period movies (if you are new to this blog: 1. I am sorry and 2. you really should read this post as it will most likely change your mind about ever reading this blog again).... Here is my latest love.

I accidentally stumbled across it last Monday when Everette was at Bible Study and there was nothing good to watch on TV because everyone was showing reruns so we could watch figure skating on NBC.

It was a PBS Masterpiece classic. Usually I have a difficult time getting into those PBS dramas... they are a little too BBC for me.
But I had seen a preview for it earlier and my interest was already piqued.
It was Jane Austen's Emma.
It was awesome... if you happen to like those melodramatic (although this one wasn't too bad), fabulously costumed, non-salacious chick flicks.... And I do.

Check your local PBS listings or start watching it now right here!
It is three episodes. The first is two hours, and the rest are only an hour. I recommend you clear four hours in your schedule because once you begin, you will not want to stop.

I have watched it mostly twice, in random order.
I promise you won't be disappointed!!

In other news

2010-02-24T22:25:00.000-05:00

In other news... Jonathan got a super awesome new Fort.

He and Everette assembled it last weekend.

Unfortunately it came with a bunch of new pots and pans.

Once they had emptied the boxes of their bothersome contents, they set to work duct taping each of the different parts together.

While mom was left to deal with those boring old pots and pans.

Those shiny... new... Calphalon... stainless steel...delightfully annoying pots and pans.

Those newly washed... ready to cook delicious food with.... pots and pans...

Yes, while Everette and Jonathan were "playing" in their new fort,

poor unappreciated me had to clean and put away those unwanted pots and pans.

such drudgery.

Not My wedding photos

2010-02-18T00:23:00.003-05:00

So today is February 18 and way back in January (technically December 31st) my brother and his wife celebrated their 10 anniversary with an Orthodox Crowning Ceremony. An Ortho-whaty? Yes, My brother and his family (as well as my sister) are Eastern Orthodox. Please try to keep up people. Anyway, it is kind of like renewing your vows.... kind of.
Anyway, My sister and I took some pictures of the whole ordeal. But since it was in the middle of my back nightmare and the church was extremely dark, and I wasn't impressed with the pictures I promptly loaded them onto my computer and completely forgot about them. That is until my sister-in-law called asking to see them.
Not wanting to give her a bunch of uber dark, uninspiring pictures, I busted some photoshop moves on them and they didn't turn out half bad.
Michelle your disk is ready for you, but the rest of you can see them here!

Church Relevance

2010-02-15T22:48:00.000-05:00

yes, that bottle of ketchup does say "church Relevance". That is what happens when you do a google image search while you are watching PBS, Masterpiece Classics :Emma and not paying attention. I was going to secretly switch it when no one was looking, but Amber caught me. So I am totally busted. I have no idea why this bottle says Church Relevance,and I am not sure if its funny or offensive. Maybe I will write some sort of deep insightful blog about ketchup and church relevance. Or maybe not.
People put ketchup on everything, does that mean the church has lots of relevance?

Mary Poppins Was Wrong

2010-02-15T20:39:00.000-05:00

It isn't a spoonful of sugar....
It's a medium sized blob of ketchup that makes the vegetables go down.

Tonight at dinner, Jonathan was dipping his potatoes in ketchup. Everette asked me, "how unhealthy is ketchup?"

Me: Well relatively speaking, not that bad. Assuming he isn't drinking it by the cupful.

E: well, I guess is it better for him to eat asparagus dipped in ketchup or not eat asparagus?
Me: Oh definitely better with ketchup than not at all.
E: Oh well then, (dipping an asparagus bite in ketchup) Here you go Jonathan.

Like I said, it isn't sugar, it's ketchup, or maybe it's the sugar in the ketchup.

A double post

2010-02-13T22:18:00.000-05:00

There is just too much going on to only post once today. I try not to post too many times in one day so I can spread things out a bit... but... oh well.
So over Christmas we had the opportunity to purchase our digital proofs from our wedding. And I have been going through them and reminiscing...
SO I will share...
First here are some of our engagement pictures...

This picture is to share how totally young we look. It is ridiculous. There is a picture of me when I was 8 with that exact same expression on my face.

See how happy we were! And look at Everette's super sexy watch!

As I looked at these pictures, I remember STRESSING about what to wear for them. For both of us... And I cannot figure out what the heck I was thinking. That top has zero color and I hardly ever wore it... Ever. Everette had some lame-o striped t-shirt. Who gets their engagement pictures taken in a t-shirt? Someone should have staged an Intervention. But let's move on... there will be plenty of time to criticize wardrobe choices later. I promise.

I am however, digging my makeup... I should try to go back to that.... I wonder if I still have that in the bottom of my makeup drawer, six years and two moves later. Probably... is that gross? On a side note.. over the past six years, Everette's skin has gotten so much better, my skin has gotten sooo much worse. WARNING-A HAZARD OF SHARING YOUR BED WITH A MAN: at night hairs from his head crawl down his face and creep onto you and root themselves in your neck and on your chin. It has to be true, I have no other explanation for what is happening to his head and my throat.
Please send help.

Speaking of wardrobes.. let's discuss pants. 1. Please forgive Everette's freaky stone washed jeans. It was the early 90's afterall. No? It wasn't? It was 2003? Please forgive me, I know I picked these, but I am sure they were my best option. Everette's wardrobe makeover has been long and slow. Just keep in mind he wore rainbow colored sweatpants into middle school. Plus did you see the watch?
2. Let's discuss my pants. They are the "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" pants. They are miracle pants. They were from Old Navy, and my sister had a pair, my sister-in-law had a pair and at least three of my friends as well. They looked great on everyone. I still have them, and sometimes I like to put them on and prance around, singing, "I Feel Pretty". And then I have a pillow fight with myself and watch The Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles. Everette puts on his stonewashed jeans and joins me. He wears a blazer and I call him Blane.

You might notice that Everette was super smiley... There was a period of time in his life when he was smiley. It began soon after we began dating and ended when he had to start paying a mortgage and worry about supporting his family.

This is my favorite picture. It is so whimsical, Everette's shoulders look super broad and super strong and my hair... looks pretty amazing. Please take a moment to appreciate the wash of my jeans. I am telling you magic pants.

All Mills All The TIme

2010-02-13T20:33:00.000-05:00

First here is another video... Remember when I posted about Jonathan's Car? Remember when I described the rocket boosters?
Here you can see them in their full glory, zooming around the house terrorizing the dog. Please excuse the disaster on the counters... it was right after dinner. I promise it doesn't always look like that. You believe me right???

Cozy Coupe: Muscle Car Mayhem from Megan Mills on Vimeo.

Also, for those of you who can't get enough of Jonathan. We have our own Vimeo channel. and you can go there to watch all Mill's videos all the time! I know, you are feeling overwhelmed.

Did anybody know about this?

2010-02-13T15:11:00.000-05:00

Hello my dear vegetarian and sometimes vegan friends... did any of you know about this?
I just heard about this new restaurant in Lafayette, from a friend's blog. It claims to use locally grown produce. Yay!!! This sounds so exciting. Any reviews??

The Importance of Good Diction

2010-02-11T23:11:00.000-05:00

Today will be the first in a series of Jonathan videos I took ages ago but was too lazy to edit, render, upload and post.
I have actually been working on them for the last three days. so there you go.
This one... emphasizes the importance of having good diction.

Good Diction from Megan Mills on Vimeo.

Teriyaki Wings

2010-02-07T19:44:00.000-05:00

In honor of Superbowl Sunday, I made wings, and they turned out pretty good. So this post is as much for me as it is for any of you interested.

Teriyaki Glaze

1/4 c Sesame Seeds
3/4 c Soy Sauce
1 c Orange Juice
1/4 c Kikkoman Teriyaki Sauce (the sauce not the marinade)
1/4 c Ketchup
1/4 c Seasoned Rice vinegar
1/2 c Light brown sugar
5 garlic cloves minced
3T ground ginger
1 small pinch of crushed red pepper (these wings are not supposed to be spicy, so don't add too much).
2 t cornstarch

1 lg bag of frozen chicken wings, thawed
canola oil

1. Whisk ingredients together, bring to a boil on stove top, simmer uncovered until reduced to a glaze.
2. In a cast iron skillet heat 2 inches of oil to 350 degrees. Add rinsed chicken a bit at a time, skin side down. Wings fry for about 13 mins, until golden. Drain on paper towel.
3. after glaze has thickened, turn heat to low, and drop in drained wings.Turn wings to coat completely, remove, plate and serve.

I had enough glaze leftover to stir-fry some veggies and serve.

NOTE: the original recipe I adapted from directed that I fry the wings. And I won't lie they were really good and crunchy, but it was so messy, next time I am going to try the oven technique.

Nightmares and other random things

2010-02-06T21:04:00.000-05:00

I used to have nightmares. I know everyone does. But my nightmares used to be real-honest-to-goodness nightmares. Nightmares about killing rampages in my church, nightmares about babies being unzipped from my body ...(thank you pregnancy hormones). Now my nightmares are different.
Last night I had a nightmare that Jonathan pooped in the bathtub and I couldn't do anything about it. It was a like slow motion. I could tell it was going to happen, but I couldn't get him out of the tub.
I seriously woke up all panicky and sweaty and tossed and turned and couldn't get back to sleep.
I am officially weird.

***********************************************
In other news, any of those out there looking for Jesus. We found him! Jonathan informed me that this is Jesus.

You can all thank Jonathan, he found him in his train magnet board set. He was a little shorter than I pictured, and I would have guessed a hammer over a wrench. But there you go.

Something to read

2010-02-06T01:29:00.000-05:00

So as I generally try to stay away from all things serious. I generally feel there are bajillions of blogs out there spouting off about politics, religion, etc. So why would anyone want to read mine. Although I guess I have been guilty of hijacking this blog to preach from a soap box.
Anyway, I came across this article (a friend posted it on their facebook page).
I found it so interesting and refreshing and amusing.
So I have decided to force it on all of you (ok, both of you).
p.s. it's 1:30 AM and I can't sleep and my husband is snoring. equals crazy.

How to Get Along...

2010-02-03T14:45:00.000-05:00

...with your family.

I began this post last night as I was lying in bed.
I just returned from spending a week with my mom and dad, and aunt and uncle.
And while our famliy is far from perfect, we genuinely like each other and choose to spend time together.
I was thinking last night as to how that is possible. I know plenty of people that would get nauseous at the thought of spending a week with their parents. So here are my tips on how to get along with your family.

1. Love the Lord and seek to serve Him.
2. Apologize often (and quickly-don't wait, if you know you said something harsh apologize in the next breath).
3. Practice the art of forgiving (even before someone asks).
4. Keep short accounts.
5. Keep your family stocked of adorable, well-behaved children.
6. Find reasons to be thankful in all situations.
7. Practice the art of deep-breathing.
8. If step 7 proves to be too difficult or ineffectual keep a bottle of whiskey on hand just in case.
9. Remember Love covers a multitude of sins.
10. As much as possible remember that your parents, in addition to being your parents, are people: with feelings, battling their own selfish desires, and working out their own salvation. Try to forget everything they did that embarrassed you when you were younger.
11. Extend grace whenever possible.
12. Try to identify what exactly is frustrating you, then when you are no longer angry about it, simply explain why you feel that way.
13. Be quick to listen.
14. Find a place you can be alone for a few minutes.
15. Laugh together as much as possible.
16. Hug a lot.
17. Have slumber parties (with your mom, or your sister, or your niece).
18. Say "I love you" whenever you can.
19. When you are all together, add music, and maybe a little wine.
20. Have a family like mine.

Who wants some hate mail?

2010-02-02T12:45:00.000-05:00

So sometimes I read other blogs and think... wouldn't that be so cool if I got hundreds of comments on every post. Then I would be so popular and so cool.
But then I think, "well Megan, you will probably have to post more than once a month for that to ever happen."

Then I think, how frightening it would be if that many people really read my blog. Because I think I am happy with my small, familiar audience (thanks for reading, Honey). Because what if I opened my big fat mouth and said something really stupid (I know, I am sure you are dumb with disbelief at even the insinuation that I could possibly say something stupid). If I said something really stupid, then I would get hate mail. I am pretty sure I am not ready for hate-mail. I am too fragile for hate-mail. Everette, now Everette could handle hate-mail.
I would shrivel up into a tiny puddle of pathetic self-loathing, lie in a corner weeping, and writhing on the floor. Please do not send me hate-mail. I am a mother, and I have responsibilities. You would be ruining this child's life, if you sent hate-mail to me. Do you want that on your heads?

My Story

2010-01-25T23:23:00.002-05:00

Hey everybody.
Jonathan and I are out of town this week. We packed up the van and headed for Cleveland with my mom, to visit my aunt (my mom's sister).
One of the items on our to do list was read through the letters my grandfather wrote to my grandmother while he was in Italy during World War II.
We read through a few of them and spent some time looking at some old photos. My cousin Sam was hanging out with us listening to the letters. He is your typical thirteen year old, aloof and a little mouthy. Actually he is not a typical thirteen year old. He is actually pretty great, no..he is pretty awesome. He is only mildly aloof and just a teensy bit mouthy, and of course only to his mom.
His early teen perspective does provide some hilarious moments. Like tonight.

In light of these recent epiphanies about her parents, Nancy (my aunt) asked Sam (my cousin) "Sam, do you know my story?"
His response, in his adolescent, non-melodic, newly lowered vocal register, precisely expressing just how lame he thought she was, my cousin responded, "yeah... you were born, married Dad, and then you had me."
Yes, Sam, in a nutshell, that is her story.
Only a thirteen year old could sum it up so succinctly.

2010-01-22T15:18:00.000-05:00

So admittedly I copied this from someone's facebook page. But it is still very cool.

Kseniya Simonova is a Ukrainian artist who just won Ukraine's version of "America's Got Talent." She uses a giant light box, dramatic music, imagination and "sand painting" skills to interpret Germany's invasion and occupation of Ukraine during WWII.

A Pity Party: and You're Invited!

2010-01-15T21:56:00.001-05:00

Dear People...
This is what I am up against...

For the record he is not in any sort of "real" distress. He just woke up from his nap and he had already climbed out of the crib, but then I made him do it again for the photo op. I am all about performing. Dance monkey! He is not always the most pleasant when he wakes up from nap time, you may remember how attached this boy is to his beverages, he does not like to be deprived. Isn't he lucky to have me as a mom?

Question: If my son is apparently capable of "safely" climbing out of his crib, but won't do it until we come in to get him, should we transfer to a big boy bed (removing one of the side rails) or enjoy a few more months where our son thinks he is still trapped in his own bed?

On a side note...

How can someone so small make so much laundry...

To get the real picture you must know that I had already put half of it away. You should envision the basket so full (two loads) that I had to lay my body across it to keep the crap from falling out, think Mount Everest.

We had a major laundry overhaul today. I went in to get Jonathan this morning... only to discover he had yakked all over himself and had diarrhea, that of course soaked through the diaper and everything else(by the way, this only happens when I have both clothes in the dryer AND the washer). So we are also dealing with some serious butt burn. It's bad people. Back-front-thighs-waist. I have used more a&d/desitin today than I have in the previous 27 months of my sons existence, combined.

My son is a mysterious yakker... he does this occasionally and then acts normal the rest of the day... why? are these viruses? reflux? digestive sensitivities? secret plots to drive me crazy? Is this just my cross to bear?

please feel sorry for me. really.