Past Blasters

Last night my old buddies Steve and Colin came over for dinner. The last time I hung out with those boys was in our sophomore year of high school. It was weird and strange to see them again. And also a little strange and weird. But mostly, it was so so so much fun. We played Apples to Apples and quizzed each other from The Book of Questions (during which time it was determined that Norah Jones would be the best person to be stuck in a cave with for two years, and that Jennifer Garner is very hot while Roseanne Barr is decidedly not). I really enjoyed seeing people from my past who brought back positive memories, and it was great being able to introduce my husband to people that I knew way back when. I've met so many of his friends from high school, some of whom have become my friends as well (hi Angela!). My high school years were a very turbulent time however, so I have purposefully cut loose from the person that I was then. For awhile it scared the living cheese out of me to think of running into someone that I knew from school, someone who would remember me as the person who I used to be. I think I was worried that the changes and growth that I have accomplished over the past six years are so fragile that any intrusion from my past would send me tumbling backwards. It's been hard to understand that all of the millions of moments in my life, good and bad, have been woven tightly together to form the person I now call "me". But I have come to realize that a tiny snag here or a loose thread there are not enough to tear me apart.

It was stinkin awesome hanging out with those guys last night, but it was also very therapeutic for me. I know, that's weird. But seriously, it showed me that I don't have to be afraid of my past and of the person I used to be. I mean, Steve and Colin knew me in all of my freakish glory, and they still decided to come of their own free will to rehash old times. That was strangely comforting to me.

And neither one of them would agree to have a one-night stand for $10,000 (see: "Book of Questions" above). What good boys.

It Is Done!

Here is the finished product! Sorry about the glare, the LCD screen crapped out on my camera, so I couldn't see to turn the flash off. But yay! It's done! The trunk is made out of cut up brown leaves, and the whole thing is coated with five layers of Mod Podge.

Sundry Sunday: My New "Day"

Everybody seems to have a "day" on their blog. You've got your "Wednesday Half-Week Haiku", your "Tuesday Tips", your "'Lost' Discussion Thursday"... I thought I'd jump on the bandwagon and try it out. So here I go: jump.

Every Sunday, unless I have something better to say, I will post a "Sundry Sunday" entry. I will reserve all of my random and pointless thoughts during the week, and dump them here. Behold:

1. I realized the other day that I have a "mute button" disability. I cannot find the mute button on any remote. This is frustrating, especially when Tyra Banks is blabbering on and on about how it's really the inner beauty that counts, and I'm trying to figure out if I heard a knock at the front door. What? I totally do not watch America's Next Top Model. What gave you that crazy idea? That would be shameful! What were we talking about? Moving on quickly...

2. I am recently and suddenly addicted to Wheat Thins. Specifically, Wheat Thins spread with Philly Cream Cheese. It is heaven my friends! You'd think the whole grain goodness of the crackers would be a boon to the digestive system, but alas, it is not so.

3. Um... OW!

4. I do not like to use the word "obey" with my kids. It makes me feel like a mean old nun. I prefer to say "cooperate". More words I do not like: neon, liver, Cruella De Vil, and "we are out of Wheat Thins".

5. The Melting Pot? My new favorite restaurant.

6. Is anyone else unreasonably upset that Vaughn died? Sydney's not going to get with that new guy, is she? AND WHY IN THE WORLD IS HER DAD BEING SUCH A NAIVE IDIOT? SLOANE IS EVIL! HE'S EVIIIIIILLLLL!

7. I miss Calvin and Hobbes. If I ever have a boy I'm totally going to name him Hobbes.

8. And finally, I am suddenly having an immense craving for cherry Jell-o.

Note To My Cats:

I know you like to lick each other's butts. I know this. Just please PLEASE go do it somewhere other than on my lap. Thank you.

This Afternoon At My House

"Jesus knows I am growing up, so he says it's ok for me to cut my own hair!"

We need to talk, Jesus.

A Work In Progress...

Arranging the leaves:



Starting to decoupage:




It's getting there!

It's Just So Purty!

I was not looking forward to autumn this year. We were having such a great time with our old pal summer, and I wasn't ready to say goodbye to afternoons at the wading pool and muggy late evening walks. When I was a kid, my favorite part of summer was waking up early and rushing outside to see if it was already hot. Living in the Northwest with all of our rain and moss and hippies, it was just so exhilarating to have warm sun streaming in through my window and not a cloud in the sky. We only get that about two months of the year. September through June? Rain. Boring, gray, monotonous rain. Don't get me wrong, I do have a certain appreciation for a cozy mug of cocoa on a rainy afternoon, but when you have two pent up kids who are about to make your head explode, it's really hard to be unable to go outside and play.

Surprisingly though, we haven't had very much rain so far this fall. We've been able to continue our neighborhood walks, and I think I've actually started to become friends with autumn. I can finally see what all the fuss is about over all the pretty colors and clean, crisp air. On our walk yesterday, I was deeply inhaling the sweet smell of fallen leaves, marveling at their beauty, and I decided that I had to do something crafty with those leaves. I am about on the bottom rung of amateur painters, but my idea is so exciting that I decided to give it a try.

Here's my plan: I got out a huge canvas that was hiding in the back of my closet, and painted it like this:



I want to collect some red, orange, yellow, and brown leaves, and quick press them in the microwave. Then, I'm going to try to decoupage them on the canvas, in the shape of a tree. Since I've never decoupaged before, this may be tricky. But we shall see. I'll let you know how it turns out.

And They Have Cooties!

We were driving yesterday when A~ piped up from the back seat with a very astute observation:

"Boys aren't human!"

I know sweetheart. I know.

Everyone Poops

We have a little friend who has taken up residence on our front porch. Look at this picture of our porch light and tell me if you see anything:



Don't see it? Look a little closer, up on top of the light:



That's right! A frog! He has been there for a couple of months now, gorging himself on the bugs that are drawn to the light. Smart froggy. But wait, what's that stuff down on the ground underneath the light? Could it be...



Why, yes! A lovely fresh supply of frog crap! Did you know frog excrement was so large? No, neither did I. He is obviously a very well-fed little bugger. But if he doesn't learn how to clean up after himself, I might just have me some frog legs for dinner.

Like, As IF!

Ok, so remember in junior high, when all of the "popular" girls at school would bring each other balloons on their birthday, and presents before Christmas break, and candy on Halloween or Valentine's Day or Columbus Day or just because? And then remember how that never happened to you? (If that did happen to you, go away. I hate you.) Yeah, it didn't happen to me either. I was kind of a loner back in the day. Never in a clique or a group or a posse. I would always try to hang out with the other loners, but that never really worked for some reason. I was the girl who stood at the edge of the crowd, sullenly watching the other kids have fun together without me. I got very good at sullenly watching. That and drawing on my shoes. I was good at both of those things. Every time it was someone's birthday and I saw them walking around with bunches of balloons tied to their backpack ("Like, oh my gosh Tiff! You totally didn't have to bring me anything, you're so rad! Like, I know, I'm rad too."), I died a little inside. I tried to pretend I was all cool and aloof, but I really really REALLY wanted to be popular. I wanted to have long fluffy blonde hair and cute braces and tan skin. I was too scared to try to look that way, so instead, I looked like this:



Hot stuff, baby. But not really conducive to the meeting and making of new friends. Scary lesbians who wear spikes and leather, yes. But popular fluffy blond girls, no.

I toned my look down a bit after I met my husband. I was trying to grow up, I guess. When we met I still had that shaved head, and my hair color changed depending on my mood. Then we got married, and five years later I now look like this:



Oh wait. No. Hold on. Here you go:



I have figured out that it is way easier to meet normal people when you yourself look normal. Don't get me wrong, on the inside I'm still all freaky-like, but on the outside I look like a regular mom who can be friends with other regular moms who won't try to get me to eat my children. And my work has finally paid off. I finally have real friends. And today, one of them randomly stopped by my house to drop off a delectable little gift from Lush with a card that said: "Happy 'I Like You' Day!"

I have arrived in the social world of real people. And it feels great! (Like, totally.)

Comments From My HUSBAND That When Heard Out Of Context... Nevermind, There Is No Context That Makes This OK

"Whatever you need A~, just get it out of the garbage can.
...Don't put that on the blog, Karli."

I Was Just Wondering...

How do you eat your Oreos? I like to take off the top cookie, leaving as much cream stuff on the bottom cookie as possible. The less cream stuff on the top cookie, the more successful the endeavor. For an extra punch, the two halves may be dunked in milk before consumption. To appreciate the full Oreo experience, these steps MUST be taken. Otherwise it's just another dumb ol' cookie. How about you? Do tell!

Deep In Thought

I just finished reading "The Time Traveler's Wife". It was absolutely phenomenal; a blow your mind kind of read. My brain is exhausted from keeping up with the intricate storyline. I feel like I've been swimming laps, swimming and swimming and swimming until I can't swim anymore, and I finally heave myself out of the water and onto the sun-warmed poolside concrete. I lay there, completely spent, my body vibrating from the exertion. My legs are weak and I have to rest, regain my strength before I can walk. This is what reading does to me. I immerse myself completely (as completely as I can, while still taking care of the kids) and I don't come up for air until it is over. Having just barely closed the cover, my brain is still spread out like jelly on the book's pages. Before I completely return to this life, to my here and now, I want to think for a little while.

This book was about waiting. And longing. And a deep love that transcended time and logic.

Have you ever heard of the Imago Theory? In short, "Dr. Hendrix believes that you unconsciously choose a partner, an 'Imago match,' who... ...has the potential to help you heal unresolved pain from childhood." (From Oprah.com.) I firmly and strongly agree with this theory. What it affirms for me is something I have felt since the moment I met my husband; we are meant to be together.

I believe that adults are shaped by their past experiences. Everything we think and decide as the person we are now is a result of the growth (or lack of growth) we have achieved over the course of our life. (A fascinating book about this is "Parenting From the Inside Out" by Daniel Siegel.) As we age, and grow, we can resolve many things from our past, from small situations that our immature child self was unable to understand to huge and consuming issues of self-doubt or fear. But I think there are some things that you can't figure out by yourself. Either you've buried something so deep that you would never willingly unearth it for inspection, or you're so entrenched in denial that even the reflection you see in the mirror can become a lie. According to the Imago Theory, you chose your partner for the opportunity for healing. "...You become healed not by a counselor but by the relationship itself." What my husband and I offer each other are not only the beautiful gifts of love and companionship, but also the nudge, motivation, strength, and guidance needed to bring our lives full circle and end up with a greater understanding and acceptance of ourselves.

I think that this theory was made manifest in "The Time Traveler's Wife." This love and need that the characters Clare and Henry had so deeply for each other was more than just love and need. It was survival. They were each other's answer to life. Man, what a book!

I'd love your thoughts on this, if you've read the book. Or your thoughts on relationships, why we are drawn to our companion. Do you think it is fate? Chance? Chemistry? Sheer luck? Or something more...?

Comments From My Preschooler That When Heard Out Of Context Make Me Sound Like A Horrible Mother Part 4:

"Daddy, let's go find something dangerous!"

Self Documentary

I thought I'd give this a try... Here is a photo documentary of me.




my Joy:



my Peace:



my Passion:



my Bliss:



my Secrets:



my Home:

Envy Me

Well, the truth has to come out. I've been holding this in long enough. My secret has to be revealed: I am married to the most incredible man in the world. I apologize to those of you ladies who were under the impression that YOUR husband was Mr. Incredible, but it just ain't so. He may be cool and all, but does he leave you notes like this?



Several days over the past few weeks I've come down in the morning to find one of these sweet notes stuck to my computer screen. Let me tell you, that is such a good way to start the day!

Here are a few more pictures from the last month or so that I've been meaning to post up here, but... well... I'm lazy.

The first one is the most beautiful view in the world, from our drive over the North Cascades Highway. Yes, the water is actually that blue. It's from the minerals or something:



A fun one from our vacation in Winthrop:



E-- with her cast (which has since been removed and replaced with a splint):



And finally a sign that struck me as funny, because I'm too dumb to be able to handle talking on the phone while going through the drive-through. I just can't figure out where all those voices are coming from!:

Advice

FYI: Never make brownies 4 1/2 hours before the event they were intended for.

(Deep inhale)

Sheer. Torture.

Lexicon

Here is a list of a few words that I love, in no particular order:

Buoyant
Exceedingly
Rhythm
Tentative
Implore
Devour
Intolerable
Vanquish
Akimbo
Spellbound
Spry
Chutney
Blight
Lilt
Melancholy
Pungent
Verdant
Pluck
Beseech
Milieu

I could go on forever, but I'll stop here. Are there any words that you love? That just strike you? Do share!

I Hate Poop

Why? Why, I ask you? Why is it that everywhere I go, I have to deal with poop? Baby poop blow-outs, potty training emergencies, and now dog poop! And I don't even have a freakin dog! We went to the park this afternoon, and had been there approximately 3 minutes when my kids got covered in poop going down the slide. Because, of course, the poop was on the slide. Dog poop. On the slide. Very, very pissed off mommy. I'd love to find that dog owner and slide them head first down that slide so they can get a nice close up of the lovely little present their dog left behind. Aargh.