When I was young, I called all athletic shoes "tenni-shoes," as in tennis shoes. Then, when I was about 12, I moved to Canada, donned a toque, ate ketchup chips, subsequently becoming brainwashed and started calling athletic shoes "runners" because that's what all my friends were saying.
I also called my dear ol' mama, "mum." It was a dark time.
Now, I call them tenni-shoes or "sneakers," for some bizarre reason. I don't know where I picked that up.
A couple of weeks ago, I got a new pair of watchamacalits at Fort Worth Running Co. They put me on a treadmill, video recorded my gait, and played it back for me as they explained why kind of running shoe I needed. I have no arches and over-pronate, so I needed support. My new Brooks have seen a lot of miles in the last couple of weeks, more than my old tenni-runner-sneaks saw in a whole month.
For the last couple of weeks, I've consistently been running six miles on the Mineral Wells Trailway in Weatherford. My great aunt Alene always tells me she was, is and always will be a two-drink gal. Well, I was a four-mile gal for a long time. Then, something inspired me, or my brain shorted, and I upped to six miles.
I love running, and it's the only athletic endeavor I've ever been even remotely talented at. I'm not fast, at all, and I don't have anything near perfect form. But I have endurance and guts and a sickening addiction to finish no matter what. It's one of the things in life I always see to the end, no matter how ugly that end may be.
I remember when, as a 8th grader, I was running in the 800 meter race (two times around the track) at the city track meet in Edmonton, Alberta. The gun sounded and we were off. The rest of the field was pacing pacing themselves, but since speed have never been my strong suit, I knew I'd never had a chance if I waiting to battle it out in a sprint to the finish. So, I took a chance and pushed out ahead of the pack. At that age, I was usually painfully aware whenever eyes were on me and not too fond of it for a host of reasons including but not limited to acne, sweaty armpits, a bad Jennifer Aniston turned Hanson brothers haircut and overarching, all-encompassing insecurity and self-loathing. But in that moment, it didn't matter. My pounding of my feet on the track, my legs swinging powerfully, the air pushing in and out of my lungs, I felt confident and alone, in a good way. Everything else was a muted blur.
Everyone caught up to me toward the finish. I remember pushing my body so hard and realizing that no matter how much you try, sometimes, there's just nothing left. My dad had once told me that if you pump your arms faster, your legs will follow suit. So, on the home video, you can see me in my Vernon Barford Blues track uniform with my face red as a cherry, my long arms pumping furiously like pistons in an engine, and my gangly legs struggling in a disproportionally slower lope, like a gazelle in slow motion. I was all limbs, then. Still am. I'm the torso-less wonder. Still, I finished third and earned a spot on that podium.
I'm still not fast. I'm an undisclosed amount of pounds heavier. I've dislocated my knee twice. I've broken my sacrum (the back of my pelvis). But I've still got guts, carnsarnit!
This Saturday, I was headed down the trail on the back half of my six miles when a runner came from behind. He was slowly gaining on me. It didn't help that I had to stop periodically to tell Happy it was OK to slide under a fence and get a drink from a creek/pond/puddle/stagnant swamp. I can't really tell if Happy enjoys running with me. After the first couple miles during which he frantically and desperately chases squirrels, rabbits and apparitions of grandeur, he spends the rest of the time frantically and desperately searching for any body of water he can plunge in to.
Anyway, the mystery runner kept closing, which gave me a renewed inspiration to push myself more than I had in a long time. I felt like I was back on the jr. high track. Minus the acne. Well, sort of. As I could hear the closer's footsteps getting louder, I opened up my gait and really let myself fly in the last half-mile stretch. I probably opened up to early because I was audibly weezing and gasping as I gallumped past several other trail-goers. But I did it! I surged ahead and finished a good 200 meters ahead of mystery man.
After I vomited, I thanked the other runner for pushing me and assured him I didn't think he was trying to run me down and attack me. I asked him how far he had run, and he said 8 miles.
8 miles. Hmm. That got me thinking.
So yesterday, I gave it a try, telling myself that if worse came to worse, I could start walking on the way back at what would have been six miles. I headed out, and I'm actually really proud to say, I did it! And, the extra two miles were much easier than I thought they would be. Granted I was running anywhere from a 10-15 minute mile at times and was there half the day, I didn't tire cardiovascularly and only had to momentarily stop twice, once when Happy caused a biker with a dog on a leash to crash and once to balance the universe by personally returning some water to the earth in light of all that Happy had removed.
It's the ciirrrrcle of liiife, and it moves us aaaallll.
Sometimes very inconveniently with no toilet paper available. And poison plants abounding. Nuf said.
What did make it difficult toward the end were my ankles and knees. But I did it. I ran 8 miles, and I think I'll try again this weekend.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
Twenty-Seven
Tanner and I each turned 27 recently. The kids I babysit inform me that this is "wow, really old."
I use anti-wrinkle cream. And eye cream. Twice a day.
I regularly use denture cleaning tablets (for my mouth guard).
I drink Sleepy Time tea.
I fall asleep almost every night on the couch between 9:30 pm-10 pm. For Tanner, 8:30 pm and 9:00 pm.
I go on bird watching tours.
I wear socks with Crocs.
I wear Crocs.
Anyways. We are both a year older. That is great, and I am very thankful for all the blessings and the struggles we received in our 27th year on this earth. They brought joy, thankfulness, refinement and growth.
I lost my job. I found a new job. We celebrated a year of marriage. We found a church in Weatherford to attend. We made new friends and watched others drift away. I lost my cat, Striker. We both worked long, hard hours and many weekends. Tanner's Grandpa, Bud Haynes, passed away. We enjoyed Christmas celebrations at both of our parents' homes. We bought a house.
Through it all, God was faithful to us and worked in His perfect will, through valleys and mountains, to continue us on a path of loving Him, each other and the people around us.
To the test the integrity of our ever-degrading, nearly middle-aged teeth before we're forced to wear dentures or gum stewed prunes, Tanner and I each chose to celebrate our birthdays with impressive carnivorous displays.
For Tanner's 27th in January, we, along with some good friends, went to Texas De Brazil in Forth Worth. It's a Brazilian-style churrascaria where they bring meat (beef, pork, lamb) to your table and shave off portions for you. They also have a killer salad bar, which was my favorite part.
At Texas De Brazil
Carter and Brandon
Jenni and Ryan
Adam and Tanner
After dinner, we went dancing in the Stockyards. Jenni and Ryan drove up from Beeville and stayed with us at the Hyatt Place in the "historic Fort Worth Stockyards." It was a great time, with added atmosphere due to the FW Stock Show and Rodeo going on.
Out on the town
For my birthday, this weekend, Tanner and I went to downtown FW to enjoy one of my FAVORITE fares, boiled crawfish! We got 2 lbs a piece, nice and spicy, and all the boiled taters and corn that come with it. We also had some delicious crawfish fondue and bread, all courtesy of Razzoos Cajun Cafe. I loooove when it's crawfish season.
At Razzoo's
Sunday night, Tanner made me dinner! He whipped up some huge ribeyes, mac and cheese, wedge salad and french bread, and got me a nice bottle of wine, too.
By the time the weekend wrapped up, I was full of thankfulness.
And protein.
And birthday donuts.
And brownies.
And I ran 12 miles.
Really, I did.
The end.
I use anti-wrinkle cream. And eye cream. Twice a day.
I regularly use denture cleaning tablets (for my mouth guard).
I drink Sleepy Time tea.
I fall asleep almost every night on the couch between 9:30 pm-10 pm. For Tanner, 8:30 pm and 9:00 pm.
I go on bird watching tours.
I wear socks with Crocs.
I wear Crocs.
Anyways. We are both a year older. That is great, and I am very thankful for all the blessings and the struggles we received in our 27th year on this earth. They brought joy, thankfulness, refinement and growth.
I lost my job. I found a new job. We celebrated a year of marriage. We found a church in Weatherford to attend. We made new friends and watched others drift away. I lost my cat, Striker. We both worked long, hard hours and many weekends. Tanner's Grandpa, Bud Haynes, passed away. We enjoyed Christmas celebrations at both of our parents' homes. We bought a house.
Through it all, God was faithful to us and worked in His perfect will, through valleys and mountains, to continue us on a path of loving Him, each other and the people around us.
To the test the integrity of our ever-degrading, nearly middle-aged teeth before we're forced to wear dentures or gum stewed prunes, Tanner and I each chose to celebrate our birthdays with impressive carnivorous displays.
For Tanner's 27th in January, we, along with some good friends, went to Texas De Brazil in Forth Worth. It's a Brazilian-style churrascaria where they bring meat (beef, pork, lamb) to your table and shave off portions for you. They also have a killer salad bar, which was my favorite part.
At Texas De Brazil
Carter and Brandon
Jenni and Ryan
Adam and TannerAfter dinner, we went dancing in the Stockyards. Jenni and Ryan drove up from Beeville and stayed with us at the Hyatt Place in the "historic Fort Worth Stockyards." It was a great time, with added atmosphere due to the FW Stock Show and Rodeo going on.
Out on the town
At Razzoo'sBy the time the weekend wrapped up, I was full of thankfulness.
And protein.
And birthday donuts.
And brownies.
And I ran 12 miles.
Really, I did.
The end.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Birthday Makeover
Babysitting last night was awesome, as expected.
We started out by playing duck-duck-goose on the trampoline. I couldn't catch anyone. Our circle was so small that by the time I got up from the seated position, the goose was already around the loop and sitting down again. When I playfully asked, "Why can't I catch anyone?" I knew the logistics of our small circle were to blame, but the girls also informed me, "Because you're old!"
When I told them that this Sunday is my birthday ("27!? That's so old!"), they decided they needed to host a birthday party for me. I picked out outfits for everyone and did their makeup. Then, while two of the girls "decorated" the living room (draped scarves over the TV, hung an open, upside-down umbrella from the chandelier, set stuffed animals up on the couch), I got a makeover for the party. It was epic.
Five applications of lipgloss, most of which ended up INSIDE my mouth. Glitter stick all over my face and neck and chest. Red and blue hair mascara. Neon pick blush on my cheeks and jaw. Perfume. And "eyeliner." When they were done the first time, the verdict was, "Oh my word, that does NOT look good. You're a mess."
A case of Wet Wipes and three do-overs later, I was presentable for the party.
I was treated to a Miley Cirus dance party ("Party in the USA" on loop), then half of the guests left early to go play Barbies, then the remaining guests performed a 20-minute ballet to Kelly Clarkson's "Breakaway."
Best birthday ever.
Check out that eyeliner!
We started out by playing duck-duck-goose on the trampoline. I couldn't catch anyone. Our circle was so small that by the time I got up from the seated position, the goose was already around the loop and sitting down again. When I playfully asked, "Why can't I catch anyone?" I knew the logistics of our small circle were to blame, but the girls also informed me, "Because you're old!"
When I told them that this Sunday is my birthday ("27!? That's so old!"), they decided they needed to host a birthday party for me. I picked out outfits for everyone and did their makeup. Then, while two of the girls "decorated" the living room (draped scarves over the TV, hung an open, upside-down umbrella from the chandelier, set stuffed animals up on the couch), I got a makeover for the party. It was epic.
Five applications of lipgloss, most of which ended up INSIDE my mouth. Glitter stick all over my face and neck and chest. Red and blue hair mascara. Neon pick blush on my cheeks and jaw. Perfume. And "eyeliner." When they were done the first time, the verdict was, "Oh my word, that does NOT look good. You're a mess."
A case of Wet Wipes and three do-overs later, I was presentable for the party.
I was treated to a Miley Cirus dance party ("Party in the USA" on loop), then half of the guests left early to go play Barbies, then the remaining guests performed a 20-minute ballet to Kelly Clarkson's "Breakaway."
Best birthday ever.
Check out that eyeliner!Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Making Tracks
I love doing things with the dogs. About this time last year, I made it my special-day birthday request to Tanner that he come with me and the pups on a long walk down the Mineral Wells State Trailway. My 27th birthday isn't until this weekend, and I'll probably see if I can make the trek a tradition this year, but last weekend we also took the dogs to this trail. The weather was just too nice to resist on Sunday, and Tanner knew he'd be stuck inside the shop (at work) setting up jobs for the rest of the afternoon.
Birthday walk, March 2010
Birthday walk, March 2010: Digger against the world
The trail begins in Weatherford (because I'm egocentric) and runs 20 miles westward through the countryside and Lake Mineral Wells State Park before ending in downtown Mineral Wells. We haven't made it that far, but we continue to explore the trail, which used to be WMW & NW railway. In it's heyday, the tracks took thousands of passengers to Mineral Wells to experience the town's mineral springs. That all hit the fan in the early 1900s, and the railway was purchased by Texas & Pacific, then merged with the Missouri Pacific and eventually the Union Pacific. Around 1990, it was purchased by Mineral Wells and then abandoned. In 1998, it was opened as the trailway it is today!
On the trail
And it's an awesome trailway. (Really, it is. I just need to take some pictures during the spring/summer!) It starts in Weatherford at Cartwright Park and goes through 10 miles of cattle and horse pastures, hay patches and ponds before it reaches the cute little town of Garner. My dad, Tanner and I have biked this portion of the trail, and I often drive to the trail head in Garner to walk the dogs because the Garner-eastward portion of the trail is on of my favorite. There is also a cute cafe/general store in Garner where you can get something to eat or buy 4 jugs of Gatorade, like Tanner does after we're done walking.
The first adventure along the was was a shanty house on the right where we heard 5 large dogs barking from about 40 feet away. That was a little freaky until we realized they were behind a wire panel that, thankfully, held, despite them all five of them jumping on it at once.
The second adventure what a black and white spotted pit bull that started following us at the trailhead and walked with us all 2 1/2 miles out and 2 1/2 miles back. We saw him for the first little while but didn't realize he was still with us until about mile 1 1/2, which kind of spooked us. Most of the time he trailed far behind and would pop into sight every once and awhile. It kind of reminded me of the movie The Hills Have Eyes. He was pretty cute, and I didn't mind him being there until on the way back, he tried to, ahem, do doggy business with Digger, who is getting a little old and stiff and who at that point, was so tuckered out that all he could do was growl and kinda sorta try to turn behind to bite the other dog. Flexibility, agility and speed are not his strongest suits at this point, which diverted a dog fight. But still, I was very offended for him and felt for his wounded pride. Tanner scared the other dog off, and for Digger's sake, we all agreed we'd never speak of it again.
Third adventure was three additional big dogs running through a field lookin' like they were up to no good. They never ended up bothering us, but after our luck with bears, we erred on the safe side and started gathering the largest sticks we could find. I ended up using mine as a walking stick, which got Tanner thinking about fashioning a walking stick with a spear mounted on the end.
That's safe.
The main adventure was "Dry Creek," which ended up not being totally dry. There was a cliff-encircled pond fed by the creek, which ran through a dry gap of rocks and puddles, which we were able to hop across between pond and the creek upstream.
It was a great day, and we were happy to discover that this portion of the trail was less traveled. Aside from the burgeoning dog population, we only saw one couple bicycling. We're not antisocial. It's just nice to let the dogs run loose and not have to worry about people freaking out. They're nice, but they're just so big that they scare people. Oh, and Happy likes to bark at kids. I missed that part of his human socialization. Oops. The dogs had a great time, and as cheesy as it sounds, it's a great feelings to be able to watch dogs experience pure, unrestrained joy... Minus the humping.
I run a lot on various portions of this trail, but Tanner and I have about 8 miles yet to explore, and my neighbor has invited me to go trail riding (horseback) in Mineral Wells State Park itself.
Here's a pretty cool video on the park and trail with a troooo Takes-sus park RAYger, David Owens. Oh, and the signs on the trail say NO going faster than a walk on horseback. If I ever get in trouble for running my horses, I'll site this video.
Side note on the now abandoned, infamous (for its supposed hauntings) Baker Hotel (mentioned in the video), which was a famous resort spa centered around the mineral baths: During the early 1930s, it drew celebrities like Lawrence Welk, Clark Gable, Greta Garbo, JFK, Marilyn Monroe and supposedly Bonnie and Clyde to the dinky lil' town of Mineral Wells .
Birthday walk, March 2010
Birthday walk, March 2010: Digger against the world
On the trail
The trailhead in Weatherford
Last weekend, we walked a portion of the trail we'd never traveled before. We started in Garner and headed west. This portion of the trail hugged Maddux Road, which you could see from the trail most of the time. That ended up not being a big deal because it was a rural road with little traffic and lots of ranchland.
The first adventure along the was was a shanty house on the right where we heard 5 large dogs barking from about 40 feet away. That was a little freaky until we realized they were behind a wire panel that, thankfully, held, despite them all five of them jumping on it at once.
The second adventure what a black and white spotted pit bull that started following us at the trailhead and walked with us all 2 1/2 miles out and 2 1/2 miles back. We saw him for the first little while but didn't realize he was still with us until about mile 1 1/2, which kind of spooked us. Most of the time he trailed far behind and would pop into sight every once and awhile. It kind of reminded me of the movie The Hills Have Eyes. He was pretty cute, and I didn't mind him being there until on the way back, he tried to, ahem, do doggy business with Digger, who is getting a little old and stiff and who at that point, was so tuckered out that all he could do was growl and kinda sorta try to turn behind to bite the other dog. Flexibility, agility and speed are not his strongest suits at this point, which diverted a dog fight. But still, I was very offended for him and felt for his wounded pride. Tanner scared the other dog off, and for Digger's sake, we all agreed we'd never speak of it again.
Third adventure was three additional big dogs running through a field lookin' like they were up to no good. They never ended up bothering us, but after our luck with bears, we erred on the safe side and started gathering the largest sticks we could find. I ended up using mine as a walking stick, which got Tanner thinking about fashioning a walking stick with a spear mounted on the end.
That's safe.
The main adventure was "Dry Creek," which ended up not being totally dry. There was a cliff-encircled pond fed by the creek, which ran through a dry gap of rocks and puddles, which we were able to hop across between pond and the creek upstream.
It was a great day, and we were happy to discover that this portion of the trail was less traveled. Aside from the burgeoning dog population, we only saw one couple bicycling. We're not antisocial. It's just nice to let the dogs run loose and not have to worry about people freaking out. They're nice, but they're just so big that they scare people. Oh, and Happy likes to bark at kids. I missed that part of his human socialization. Oops. The dogs had a great time, and as cheesy as it sounds, it's a great feelings to be able to watch dogs experience pure, unrestrained joy... Minus the humping.
I run a lot on various portions of this trail, but Tanner and I have about 8 miles yet to explore, and my neighbor has invited me to go trail riding (horseback) in Mineral Wells State Park itself.
Here's a pretty cool video on the park and trail with a troooo Takes-sus park RAYger, David Owens. Oh, and the signs on the trail say NO going faster than a walk on horseback. If I ever get in trouble for running my horses, I'll site this video.
Side note on the now abandoned, infamous (for its supposed hauntings) Baker Hotel (mentioned in the video), which was a famous resort spa centered around the mineral baths: During the early 1930s, it drew celebrities like Lawrence Welk, Clark Gable, Greta Garbo, JFK, Marilyn Monroe and supposedly Bonnie and Clyde to the dinky lil' town of Mineral Wells .
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Amazed and Thankful!
This morning I worked more on removing the rock mulch. I got about half of the rocks removed – 8'x2' worth. I filled the wheelbarrow, which deflated the tire and ran it off the rim when I tried to move it. Oops. Tanner loved that.
Then, I took pictures and posted the rocks for free on Craigslist. I was very skeptical that anyone would want the stupid rocks that I was trying so desperately to get rid of!
At the last minute, I also joined the Weatherford Freecycle group on Yahoo groups and posted the rocks on there.
I was SHOCKED at the number of responses I got. I received about four responses from Craigslist and 7 from Freecyle. I actually started to feel bad, knowing that only one person would get the rocks. I started to wish I had more rocks to go around, then realized that what I REALLY wished was I never had rocks to begin with.
Anyway, Tanner walked me through the agonizing, guilt-stricken process of deciding who to respond to and how long to wait to hear back from them before moving on, etc. The long and short of it is, someone came that day to get the rocks, and they are coming back tomorrow to get the second load that I plan to have done by the afternoon.
Awesome! While I got responses from Craigslist, I thought Freecyle was really cool, and I liked it better. The people were all extremely local, as in they lived in Weatherford, as opposed to Craiglists which goes to the whole DFW area. Also, because it is a Yahoo group, most subscribing group members get the postings delivered immediately to their inbox so you get responses much sooner. The other main difference between the two, is everything posted on Freecyle has to be FREE, duh. Craiglist is usually used for selling things. I wonder if people would have paid for my stupid rocks?
Now, for the other side of Freecycle, the side where you look for free stuff, I'm one who hates getting emails sent to my inbox from anywhere about anything because I already feel overwhelmed by the number of emails I get. Thankfully, joining didn't mean I have to be bombarded with emails about free Sony Walkmans and nonfunctioning toilets. I was able to adjust my personal settings on the group so that I have to log into Yahoo Groups to see the free-stuff posts. They don't come to my inbox. However, the direct messages people sent in response to my rock posting were sent right to my email inbox. Handy.
All in all, Freecyle rocks. You should look into it to see if there's a group for your area.
I'm hoping there will also be be people interested in the larger 3"-5" rocks from the planters that are surrounding our whole house! Who knew rocks were in such demand.
http://www.freecycle.org/
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Justin Bieber's Girlfriends
I babysit on Wednesday nights for a group of absolutely sweet, hilarious, rambunctious and CREATIVE kids! No matter how tired I am from the day, I so look forward to our play times. Each child is so beautifully unique and each Wednesday evening they gather together under one roof like a colorful patchwork quilt.
Did I mention there are usually 7 kids? So it's a pretty substantial quilt. Queen/King size, at least. But last night, because of the flu, only 4 kids were there.
R, K and J are siblings, and we all get together at their house. R is the oldest, 7. She's a beautiful brunette who's kind and considerate. She has a beautiful voice. She is creative and confident; she is "in charge" of all the other girls. She decides what games they're playing and, ultimately, what is and is NOT cool that given day. She's sweet and cheerful. She is also very sensitive.
K is 5. She is a gorgeous blond, and she's a bundle of energy – so easily excitable. She's sincere and cuddly, and falls in love immediately with almost everyone. She is very theatrical and loves to dance and act and pose and do anything that puts her in the spotlight.
J is two and he is the most cheerful, happy, smiley little boy I've ever known! And I can not understand a SINGLE word that he says!
T, who is 6 or 7, usually comes with her brother, C. T is a tiny thing, freckle-faced and cute as a button. She's athletic and nimble and amazed me the other day by doing a back flip in the living room. She is what I would call incredibly "agreeable" – she's always up for anything, goes with the flow and has yet to get in an argument with anyone. She's amazingly selfless for a little girl. Needless to say, she's everyone's best friend.
Wednesday night is always entertaining, whether we're putting on a fashion show, playing hide-and-go-seek in the dark or having a dance-off on the trampoline. But this week, this week it was particularly hi-lar-ious.
The girls decided to put on a concert. They rallied in R's and K's room for at least a half an hour to decide on their band name, outfits and makeup. They presented themselves as the newly signed artists, Justin Bieber's Girlfriends. The band was comprised of Taylor Swift (K), Selena Gomez (T) and Hannah Montana (R).
Next, I was forced to decide who should be the lead singer. The each made "ah ah ah, ah ah ah" sounds. Kind of like a mix between Mariah Carey and the Little Mermaid. I picked R, only on the premise that everyone would subsequently get a chance to be a lead singer. Everyone got pouty-faced, but R explained that "first is the worst, second is the best, third is the one with the treasure chest." Phew.
Then, they sat down and each wrote out songs to perform. K needed help writing. Her song went something like this:
We are the best of the rock stars. We like to sing together always, with my brother and my sister. I love my sister and my brother. I like to sing with my mom and dad and also my nana and papa. Because I like to sing with you. I like to sing always because it is fuuuunnnn."
T's song was significantly shorter:
We may be young, but we can still sing. We are the Justin Bieber girls. Our names are Taylor and Selena and Hannah.
R just wrote out all the lyrics by memory to "Love Story" by Taylor Swift. They R decided she wanted to go last – as the grand finale – and had to, after much objection from the chorus, re-explain that "third is the worst and the rest are the best."
I wish you could see how serious and intense they were when they read/sang their lyrics under the spotlight of a hand-held flashlight.
I didn't get each of their solos, but I did catch two encore performances. The first is K singing and original/made up on the spot/rambling song while the other girls play instruments. The second is K singing a solo of "Soul Sister," or is it "Scone Sister"?
J spent the night trying to make eat his shoe with a huge pelican from a pop-up picture show and pointing at the refrigerator and babbling out instructions. I can tell you in hindsight that it wasn't macaroni and cheese that he wanted, oops, and I think it might have been strawberry yogurt.
Did I mention there are usually 7 kids? So it's a pretty substantial quilt. Queen/King size, at least. But last night, because of the flu, only 4 kids were there.
R, K and J are siblings, and we all get together at their house. R is the oldest, 7. She's a beautiful brunette who's kind and considerate. She has a beautiful voice. She is creative and confident; she is "in charge" of all the other girls. She decides what games they're playing and, ultimately, what is and is NOT cool that given day. She's sweet and cheerful. She is also very sensitive.
K is 5. She is a gorgeous blond, and she's a bundle of energy – so easily excitable. She's sincere and cuddly, and falls in love immediately with almost everyone. She is very theatrical and loves to dance and act and pose and do anything that puts her in the spotlight.
J is two and he is the most cheerful, happy, smiley little boy I've ever known! And I can not understand a SINGLE word that he says!
T, who is 6 or 7, usually comes with her brother, C. T is a tiny thing, freckle-faced and cute as a button. She's athletic and nimble and amazed me the other day by doing a back flip in the living room. She is what I would call incredibly "agreeable" – she's always up for anything, goes with the flow and has yet to get in an argument with anyone. She's amazingly selfless for a little girl. Needless to say, she's everyone's best friend.
Wednesday night is always entertaining, whether we're putting on a fashion show, playing hide-and-go-seek in the dark or having a dance-off on the trampoline. But this week, this week it was particularly hi-lar-ious.
The girls decided to put on a concert. They rallied in R's and K's room for at least a half an hour to decide on their band name, outfits and makeup. They presented themselves as the newly signed artists, Justin Bieber's Girlfriends. The band was comprised of Taylor Swift (K), Selena Gomez (T) and Hannah Montana (R).
Next, I was forced to decide who should be the lead singer. The each made "ah ah ah, ah ah ah" sounds. Kind of like a mix between Mariah Carey and the Little Mermaid. I picked R, only on the premise that everyone would subsequently get a chance to be a lead singer. Everyone got pouty-faced, but R explained that "first is the worst, second is the best, third is the one with the treasure chest." Phew.
Then, they sat down and each wrote out songs to perform. K needed help writing. Her song went something like this:
We are the best of the rock stars. We like to sing together always, with my brother and my sister. I love my sister and my brother. I like to sing with my mom and dad and also my nana and papa. Because I like to sing with you. I like to sing always because it is fuuuunnnn."
T's song was significantly shorter:
We may be young, but we can still sing. We are the Justin Bieber girls. Our names are Taylor and Selena and Hannah.
R just wrote out all the lyrics by memory to "Love Story" by Taylor Swift. They R decided she wanted to go last – as the grand finale – and had to, after much objection from the chorus, re-explain that "third is the worst and the rest are the best."
I wish you could see how serious and intense they were when they read/sang their lyrics under the spotlight of a hand-held flashlight.
I didn't get each of their solos, but I did catch two encore performances. The first is K singing and original/made up on the spot/rambling song while the other girls play instruments. The second is K singing a solo of "Soul Sister," or is it "Scone Sister"?
J spent the night trying to make eat his shoe with a huge pelican from a pop-up picture show and pointing at the refrigerator and babbling out instructions. I can tell you in hindsight that it wasn't macaroni and cheese that he wanted, oops, and I think it might have been strawberry yogurt.
Monday, February 21, 2011
YOU Can Make the World a Better Place
Forget global warming.
Forget world peace.
If you really want to do something to make a difference for future generations,
If you really want to make the world a better place for your children,
Or, at the very least, if you want to avoid the SCORN of your children and keep future generations from CURSING your very name and BURNING an effigy of you in the streets,
Then good people of the Earth, DO NOT, I say DO NOT, use ROCKS as MULCH!!!
Rocks belong along riverbeds and lake shores. How lovely. You can skip them across the peaceful water, feel their cool smoothness in your hand, or accidentally hit your dog right in the noggin when you're aiming for a tree stump. (The fact that the dog is two feet in front of you and the intended tree stump is across the river is of no consequence.)
Rocks do not belong in your yard, and they certainly do not belong in a PLANT BED that was obviously, undeniable constructed for the exact and specific purpose of digging holes in the ground for in which to place plants.
I mean, hello, farmers curse the ground that is full of rocks. It breaks their plowshares and stubs their wittle toesies. Rocks + planting x cultivating = I'm very angry.
As you can see, the previous owners of our new home did not have someone as wise as myself to warn them of the curse they were casting on the innocents to come behind them.
Sunday was supposed to be spent planting my flower bulbs and some dewberries Susannah gave me. The harmless little layer of pebbles on the plant bed ended up being a malicious shield of pebbles at least several layers of the earth deep. I swear I got at least to the outer core.
I spent the better part of Sunday afternoon trying to remove the pebbles. I started out with a hand trowel, a kitchen sieve and a little bucket. Then, I realized that I pretty much wanted to shoot myself in eye. Then, I complained to Tanner, lamenting approximately 23 different ways about how stupid the previous owners were, how helpless I was and how my planter was doomed to a rocky death. Then, I wrote a short, sad ballad and played it for the dogs on the recorder I still have from my kindergarten music class at William B. Travis Elementary. Then I played Hot Cross Buns.
Then, I figured out a better solution. I took two wheelbarrows and set them side by side. Over one, I placed a metal grate that used to be on Tanner's utility vehicle. I took shovels full of dirt and dumped it on the grate, then, once I got a good pile, moved the rocks and dirt around until the dirt was sifted through. Then, I dumped the rocks into the other wheelbarrow and started all over again.
I was also battling a wild, killer onion with roots like spaghetti noodles that had taken over the planter.
Oh yeah, and for some reason, someone had buried plants in terracotta pots. In the ground. They put the plant in the pot, then buried the pot. So far, I've found four.
I spend several hours shoveling and sifting for rocks. It was kind of like sifting for gold, but more like the time when I was a child and swallowed a marble and had to poop in a bucket and someone had to sift through... never mind.
I made about 5 feet of progress that Sunday afternoon sifting for rocks.
The planter, which is along our shop, is 20 feet long.
There is a cumulative 113 feet surrounding the house that is also "mulched" with rocks.
I'd say I have a nice little project on my hands. (The rocks around the house are larger than the rocks around the shop, which are more like pebbles.)
And we have no clue what do with the rocks.
Any suggestions?
I don't know where the previous owners live, or else... never mind.
Forget world peace.
If you really want to do something to make a difference for future generations,
If you really want to make the world a better place for your children,
Or, at the very least, if you want to avoid the SCORN of your children and keep future generations from CURSING your very name and BURNING an effigy of you in the streets,
Then good people of the Earth, DO NOT, I say DO NOT, use ROCKS as MULCH!!!
Rocks belong along riverbeds and lake shores. How lovely. You can skip them across the peaceful water, feel their cool smoothness in your hand, or accidentally hit your dog right in the noggin when you're aiming for a tree stump. (The fact that the dog is two feet in front of you and the intended tree stump is across the river is of no consequence.)
Rocks do not belong in your yard, and they certainly do not belong in a PLANT BED that was obviously, undeniable constructed for the exact and specific purpose of digging holes in the ground for in which to place plants.
I mean, hello, farmers curse the ground that is full of rocks. It breaks their plowshares and stubs their wittle toesies. Rocks + planting x cultivating = I'm very angry.
As you can see, the previous owners of our new home did not have someone as wise as myself to warn them of the curse they were casting on the innocents to come behind them.
Sunday was supposed to be spent planting my flower bulbs and some dewberries Susannah gave me. The harmless little layer of pebbles on the plant bed ended up being a malicious shield of pebbles at least several layers of the earth deep. I swear I got at least to the outer core.
I spent the better part of Sunday afternoon trying to remove the pebbles. I started out with a hand trowel, a kitchen sieve and a little bucket. Then, I realized that I pretty much wanted to shoot myself in eye. Then, I complained to Tanner, lamenting approximately 23 different ways about how stupid the previous owners were, how helpless I was and how my planter was doomed to a rocky death. Then, I wrote a short, sad ballad and played it for the dogs on the recorder I still have from my kindergarten music class at William B. Travis Elementary. Then I played Hot Cross Buns.
Then, I figured out a better solution. I took two wheelbarrows and set them side by side. Over one, I placed a metal grate that used to be on Tanner's utility vehicle. I took shovels full of dirt and dumped it on the grate, then, once I got a good pile, moved the rocks and dirt around until the dirt was sifted through. Then, I dumped the rocks into the other wheelbarrow and started all over again.
I was also battling a wild, killer onion with roots like spaghetti noodles that had taken over the planter.
Oh yeah, and for some reason, someone had buried plants in terracotta pots. In the ground. They put the plant in the pot, then buried the pot. So far, I've found four.
I spend several hours shoveling and sifting for rocks. It was kind of like sifting for gold, but more like the time when I was a child and swallowed a marble and had to poop in a bucket and someone had to sift through... never mind.
I made about 5 feet of progress that Sunday afternoon sifting for rocks.
The planter, which is along our shop, is 20 feet long.
There is a cumulative 113 feet surrounding the house that is also "mulched" with rocks.
I'd say I have a nice little project on my hands. (The rocks around the house are larger than the rocks around the shop, which are more like pebbles.)
And we have no clue what do with the rocks.
Any suggestions?
I don't know where the previous owners live, or else... never mind.
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