Trading Spaces

It finally came down to the boys bathroom. We had avoided the boys bathroom for a time because, well, that's the bathroom the boys use and they need a space uninterrupted for bathing, teeth brushing and peeing near the toilet. But eventually all things change and so here we are with the BEFORE picture:


Another BEFORE with the happy home owner documenting his project. One backache, creaky knees and many nicks and cuts later . . .


Our AFTER picture. We've already moved the boys back in. They were peeing near the toilet in my bathroom, and that was not to be tolerated for long.


We have the painting left and then carpet and then we're done, and we can go back to watching TV and taking our ease. My Tivo will thank me. He's full and would like it very much if I'd watch some of those shows he's been good enough to record.

Comic Con

This is a comic book store in Chandler, Arizona. In July 2006, my sister and her husband moved to Chandler (Phoenix) so that he could work at Intel. There was a 20+ hour road trip involving video cameras and small marital disagreements specific to traveling that were ironed out over large fries. Oh yeah, and me--I went too, to "help." (I basically helped myself to Chinese food, American food, fast food, etc.) My sister and her husband were beginning a new life, a new adventure, and I documented it all with a camera in one hand and a cheeseburger in the other. While they lived there, the Ellis family went to visit them a few times in the spirit of the "stay with relatives who live in paradise and save on hotel costs" vacation. We swam in their bathtub water warm pool, which was conveniently located adjacent to their palatial house and surrounded by beautiful plant life and a few dancing geckos. Unmitigated joy was to be had by all. Even the geckos.

Alas, it was not to be.

Fast forward to August 2009. My sister and her husband are moving away from Chandler to Dayton. Ohio. The Midwest. The heartland. Where people routinely carry guns and bibles under the seats of their cars (at least that's where I keep mine.) No red rocks, no sun worshipers, no new age anything. Just corn. Rows and rows and rows of it. And you know what? I'm thrilled. Phoenix was too dang far away and the plane rides too long and too expensive. And once you make it TO Phoenix, this idyllic place, this utopia known for shorts weather year round, reveals an underbelly of 115 degree in the shade summers and absolutely NO bakeries. None. Okay, maybe one, but you had to drive 20 miles in intense 115 degree traffic with your tires melting out from under you to get a tiny loaf of Ciabatta bread, for which you drove back thankfully and nibbled carefully, lest you have to get back out into flaming Hades to get another one. That, my friend, was NOT in the travel brochure.

But truthfully, they could build bakeries upon bakeries and it wouldn't matter. The simple fact is Phoenix is farther from Missouri than the moon, and finally, FINALLY, my sister is leaving there and moving to a state where her kids wont cry when it snows and start screaming "Mommy the sky is falling! Mommytheskyisfallinggggggggggggg!!!!"

So what does all that have to do with a comic book store in the middle of Chandler? When they first moved to paradise, I took this picture of Atomic Comics with my camera phone thinking that when I got back to the greater Phoenix area with one of my superhero worshiping boys, we'd go inside. But we never did. They were there three years and we never made it to the interior of the comic book store that was less than five minutes from their house. Sad, really.

Unless, maybe they have comic book stores in Dayton? Ha! Silver lining achieved!

Spy Kids

Regardless of how tightly packed your summer is with camps, vacations, projects, activities and events, eventually the whole darn thing melts down into a stay at home mom with learned helplessness and children plugged into video games. So in order to stop the insanity (and the incessant discussion of various game levels and what was gained or lost on them) I ordered the boys to do something using ONLY their imaginations. This lasted eight seconds. They came up with a Spy scenario involving missions and such, but they needed gadgets. Absolutely required them, no getting around it. It started innocently enough, with a couple of paper towel rolls and the discussion of what spy telescopes should look like, but that snowballed into the need for electronic equipment--I mean what James Bond film depends utterly on cardboard? With the argument made and accepted, I agreed to get them walkie-talkies from Dick's Sporting Goods.

Rookie mistake.

Now, instead of hearing about video game levels, I'm stuck in one of those Verizon wireless commercials. Mason: "Stephen, can you hear me now? I'm on the stairs." Stephen: " I can hear you. Can you hear me? I am in the back yard." And on and on it goes. I'm not sure how the mission is going, but one thing is crystal clear. If the element of surprise is necessary to thwart the enemy, we'd better craft our little white flags now. Out of paper towels. Lots of them. How do you think I got to the rolls so quickly?

Home Improvement

Monte is a mad genius. Just don't tell him I said so. In the 18 years we've been married, he's gone from this adorably geeky kid to a Renaissance man. In the home improvement category, he spent one weekend watching our uberbuilder friend Rickey tile the downstairs bathroom, and suddenly he not only had the urge to tile other bathrooms but he how has the wherewithal to do it all by himself. It's like watching the brain plug in scenes from the Matrix films. Can't tile? Wait a second, I watched somebody or asked a couple of questions or watched a video, plugged in my brain, had a little rapid eye movement and bippety-boppety-boo, I CAN tile. And fly helicopters. Ridiculous.

Here is evidence of some of his recent work. The tile you see here took him three days. (If I had done it, after the three days I would have had two pieces of tile glued to each other and the rest broken into little jagged pieces. You would then find me downstairs eating an entire chocolate cake and crying.)


The kitchen is still in progress. He's doing it at night after work. Well, ONE night after work. Night two is for grout, and presumably, for him to rest and survey his handiwork and call it "good."


Since none of the appliances have a home while the tiles goes up, Peyton got to examine my green mixer, that would have been red if I hadn't listened to my sister when I was ordering it from QVC in 2001. I doubt the red would have made the food taste like fine cuisine, but I would have liked looking at it better for the 100s of years I'll own the dumb thing. Stupid Kitchenaid and their Toyota like durability.


In the space of three seconds, he got the front circle part off (the part that, if I really could cook, would accommodate lovely life simplifying attachments) and was running down the hall with it. I finally pried it from his clenched fist, and then got front row seats to the most amazing tantrum you've ever seen.


Terrible twos, six months early. Ah well, at least I'll have several lovely tiled living spaces from which to watch the meltdowns. It's all about perspective.

Say cheese

Ever eaten shredded cheese with a fork?

No?

It's probably just as well.

Have you seen this kid?

We've had a wild few weeks. We got back from Cancun last Sunday, and by the time I had unpacked and washed everything it was time to take Mason to his first ever week of Ne-o-tez church camp. He looked pretty shy and quiet standing there with all the other boys who can't stand still (the girls were off in a group of their own, and it didn't look like they were quite ready to have anything to do with the boys. Lucky for me. I would hate to pick him up in a week and find out there's a . . . girlfriend. Ack.) Monte went back to check on him twice before he finally agreed to get in the car and go. He is worried Mason will not have the time of his life and that he might be sad for a week. I am worried his clothes will come back irrevokably stained and grimy. Monte is worried Mason wont get what he likes to eat at camp, and that he might be hungry. I am worried he wont brush his teeth all week long. Monte is worried his little boy will be lonely without his daddy. I am worried his mother will get used to peace and quiet and then be jolted violently back to reality when his mouth comes home.

I hope my little boy isn't lonely, and that he's having a good time. Goodnight sweet boy. We miss you terribly already, and it has only been six hours. Good grief!

Mason's Crazy Hair

GeoTagged, [N38.93428, E92.38937]

Happy whateverth of July

The problem with traditions are that you have to have the wherewithal and the focus to keep them in the same way every single year to have any lasting or meaningful effect on collective memory. Sometimes our little family of five celebrates American Independence by spending hundreds of dollars setting off fireworks at the farm. Sometimes we go and see someone else's fireworks (the upside here being that you save tons of money and (probably) eat someone else's food), and then sometimes we hit a movie or go to the store and skip fireworks altogether. And then there are my personal favorite years where Monte says, "When is the 4th anyway?" on the 5th. We just don't have the dedication to scheduling and planning that it takes to do the same thing at the same time every year except in very specific cases (Halloween trick or treating, and being home on Christmas day are the only two I can think of.) Frankly, tradition takes too much concentration, and besides, the little boy audience barely notices the holiday itself, except to be grateful for school cancellation. Maybe if I had daughters there would be some sort of expectation or something, but boys can't remember what they did yesterday--and unless it has to do with video game levels, they don't care.

So from our house to yours we extend our most sincere and happy non-traditional 4th of July wishes, complete with everything or nothing, as you choose to celebrate it, in your own way. Or not. Go Lakers!

It's Official

Taken at Senior Frogs, Cancun, Quintana Roo, Mexico. Hence the balloon hat. (At least it's not red and purple yet!)

Circus People

You guys HAVE to see this.

This is Ben, my sister Shauna's baby. He was 18 months when they shot this video. In my opinion, he is a freakin' genius!



I KNOW, right?

Less Trouble in Paradise

Sometimes less is more. And sometimes the less that is more is bad.

We head out to Cancun on Monday. Peyton is spending the week with Grandma in Oklahoma City. We met the grandparents in Joplin and Peyton got in their car and left, with me standing there in the Bob Evans parking lot trying not to cry. Having never ever been away from him all night before, this evening has been a challenge. Monte kept bringing me chocolate and iced tea lemonades this week to soften the eventual blow, but I guess I'll have to work through tonight's bedtime all on my own.

There is an upside to having one less kid though. Suddenly, I feel like I can do anything. Really. Like, we went into a Best Buy just now and I actually shopped. I saw what they had in the way of retail merchandise, considered options and was able to thoughtfully select some items based on those options. My two older children played docilely in the video game aisle without moving from the general gaming vicinity, which was easily observable from most areas of the sales floor. I didn't need a cart, I didn't have to corral anyone, I was able to thoroughly consider what I was about to do before I did it, the whole time. I didn't have to talk over anyone, there was no yelling, I didn't have to wipe anyone, I didn't have to soothe or comfort anyone while trying to find someone else. And most of all, when I left, I knew what was in my bag and where my purse was. The amount of physical stress in my life if you're just going off today, has been greatly reduced. Emotional stress? Off the charts. We'll see what Monday and the airport brings.

(I'll bet that Michelle Duggar lady in Arkansas says stuff like that when she only has to look after six kids instead of 18. I'm such a wimp.)

Goodnight, punk-y punk, out there under the Oklahoma sky. I miss your little face so bad. Sleep well. Have good dreams. And tomorrow, go through all the kitchen drawers and find each and every one of grandma's measuring cups and big spoons, and spread them all over the living room and bathroom floors. Just to make it home.

Spanglish

Aunt Shauna speaks Spanish. We're going to Cancun in a week and a half. You'd think this would be the ideal time for Shauna to teach us some of what she knows. You would be very very wrong. The following e-mail is what I got when I asked for some handy Spanish phrases for the monolingual traveler. Shauna clearly does not have our best interests at heart, although she did throw in phonetic phrasing so we'd be able to pronounce our doom clearly.
********************************************************
Handy Spanish Phrases

1. Get out of here! I’m watching TV! (Mason’s request)
Salga de aqui! Estoy mirando la tele! [Sal guh day ah key! Es toy meer ahn doe lah tay lay!]

2. Let’s go to the beach! Vamos a la playa! [Vah moes ah la plie ah!]

3. I think the maid stole my money. Creo que la criada me robo de mi dinero. [Cray oh kay la kree ah dah may row bow day me dee nare oh.]

4. That stuff looks cheap and I don’t want to buy it. Sus cosas se me parece barato y no quiero comprarlas. [Soose koe sahs say may pah ray say bah rah toe E no key air oh comb prahr lahs.]

5. Come on in. I’m naked in the shower. Usted puede entrar. Estoy desnudo/desnuda (depending on if you’re a boy or girl saying it—a for girl, o for boy) en la ducha. [Ooh stead pway day in trar. Es toy dace nood ah in la doocha.]

6. Where is the bathroom? The food was not very good. It’s an emergency! Donde esta el bano? La comida estaba mal. Es una emergencia! [Dohn day es tah el banyo? La coe mee dah ace tah bah mahl. Ace oonah ah mare hence E ah!]

7. I brought lots of money and I’m ready to spend it! Traje mucho dinero y estoy listo/lista (depending on boy or girl) para gastarlo! [Trah hay moo cho dee nare oh E es toy leese toe pah rah gas tar low!]

8. I’m an American. You should treat me like royalty! Estoy Americano/Americana (boy or girl). Debe tratarme como derechos. [Es toy Ah mare E kahn O. Day bay trah tar may coe moe day ray chos!]

9. I want another room. This one smells like a dead animal. Quiero otro cuarto. Este cuarto huele como un animal muerto. [Key air oh oh troh kwahr toe. Ace tay kwahr toe hway lay coe moe oon ahn E mahl mwair toe.]

10. I lost my wallet and I will do anything for 50 dollars. Se me perdio mi dinero y hare qualquier cosa para cincuenta dolares. [Say may pear dee oh me dee nair oh E R ay kwal key air coe suh pah rah sin kwin tah doe lair ace.]
*********************************************************************
The subject line in this e-mail said "Let me know if there are any others you want to know." Why yes, Shauna, how about, "My sister is a complete dork and gave me these phrases because she is secretly jealous of my brains and beauty. Also my sister is beginning to act just like her madre." Ha, that last one'll get her!

Camp Half-Mud

This is beautiful Camp NeOTez in scenic DeSoto, Missouri. It's a picturesque setting with lovely accommodations, and the locals are all kinds of friendly. As it is the rainy season in beautiful DeSoto, each and every single thing within the confines of camp is covered in mud. This includes, but is not limited to, clothes, towels, shoes, children, motor vehicles and unused toothbrushes.
Speaking of the locals, here they are in all their finery. This is some sort of tribal custom called a camp sing a long. It is used to lull parents of small children into accepting offerings of hot dogs and punch, and to distract them from exclaiming "what have you done with my child, and what is that large mud covered thing you are giving me instead?!?!" Do not be alarmed. The mud covered thing is indeed your child.
This is Marco. I think he was the upper bunk to Stephen's lower bunk, although I'm not entirely sure. I'm not convinced they slept in their bunks, although the beds had mud in them, so I guess the children at least laid down. As I said, it was very stormy and muddy, and at one point all of the children were covered in shaving cream. And mud. There is still some mud on Stephen's face. You can see it in the photo. Marco's face is clean. Sigh.
These are the good natured counsellors at Camp NeOTez, cabin 4. Stephen got to know them very very well. They are blood brothers. One for all and all for one. If one is captured, the other one goes back for him, because you never leave a man behind, and so on. When I asked Stephen about this picture, he pointed to the kid behind him and said "That's uh, Jimmy." Then he pointed to the other guy and said "I don't remember his name." That's six year old loyalty for you.

I was worried when we dropped Stephen off Sunday night, he might get nervous or be concerned. This was his first overnight camp. He's only six. He was there for 48 whole hours. What if he got scared or needed his mom? After a tense three hour return drive down to pick him up I rushed up to him and said "Hey, little guy, with all that scary rain, did you miss me?" He said "Uh, yeah, I guess" and took off toward the ice cream sandwiches being served in the mess hall. Again, six year old loyalty. Absence makes the heart look instead, for ice cream sandwiches.

Mason will attend NeOTez in July. Hopefully they will have one or two dry days this time, during which they can wash off some of the mud.
*****************************
P.S. Sorry for the Percy Jackson and the Olympians rip off in the title post (Camp Half-Blood). We just finished book five (The Last Olympian), and they tell me there are to be no more. Curse you Rick Riordan, and J.K. Rowling before you for getting us all wrapped up in your characters and then deciding to stop writing about them. I guess we'll have to look elsewhere for entertainment. If you have a kid and would like to read to him and are interested even a little bit in Greek Mythology, pick up Riordan's work. It'll have you googling Hecate and Hephaestus in no time! www.rickriordan.com

Photoshop for (me) Dummies

I took this with my point and shoot camera, and even though the noise (grain) is extremely high in the photograph, (flash didn't fire for some reason) I still liked the subject well enough to hang on to it. I decided it probably could use a few PS actions, just to jazz it up, although the resolution on the P&S isn't that high, and you have to have pretty high res images for most actions I've come across to work properly. Still I figured it didn't hurt to give a few of these lower ones a whirl, just to see.

The two actions I used are free and in my opinion, indispensable. The first, Touch of Light/Touch of Darkness, can be downloaded off Jodi Freedman's website, MCPActions.com, under the "Try It" section (you have to scroll down, but it's down there, trust me.) I ran TOLTOD, and then selected the paintbrush, and "painted" a touch of light on Stephen's face, to take out the shadow. I flattened the image by right clicking on it and selecting "flatten" (whoa, Kristi, slow down, you're too technical), and then ran Pioneer Woman's Define and Sharpen action, which can be downloaded from thepoineerwoman.com (just search her site). It brings out the color a bit better, improves clarity, etc.

Again, this shot would have been better with the 5D, but most pictures are better out of an SLR. However, gigantor and it's ridiculously phallic lens wont fit in my purse, and with the purse, baby, stroller, Starbucks Iced Tea Lemonade and diaper bag in my twelve hands I had to minimize something.

Yeah, yeah, I know the photo is still grainy, but I rather like the little guy in it. Sue me.

Lost in Translation

Monte bought Stephen some new white shorts with sailboats on them. Not a look for everyone, but Stephen makes them work. On the way out of the house, Monte said, "What do you think of the shorts?" I said "Yeah, he really pulls them off." Monte said, "Oh? He did?" I clarified, "No, no, I mean they look nice." Monte said, "Oh good. For a second there, I thought you meant he was flashing the neighbors."

I'll bet parents of girls never EVER have this kind of misunderstanding.

It's not date night unless somebody calls the cops

This weekend was our 18th anniversary (18 years is the Garnet anniversary--we looked it up. Apparently 11 years is Steel, and if you make it past that you start getting better symbols to work with.) We did the usual thing, got a sitter, went to see a movie, ate dinner.

Except.

Except my mom served as our babysitter. There are distinct differences in our lifestyle and hers, including the fact that we recycle, we have central heat and air, our TVs are controlled by Tivos, we have high speed internet, we live on a cul-de-sac with unique parking implications, and so on. Most of the time the differences in our lifestyles only end up in a diaper in the recycle bin or our neighbor asking us if we'd please move the extra car so he can back out of his driveway. But Saturday, the crazy good luck streak we were unaware we were in, flat ran out.

We left the boys with mom and went to eat at C.C.'s City Broiler. Midway though dinner, Mom called Monte, and after she asked a few questions, he asked to speak to Mason. He then explained to Mason how to put the DVD in the Tivo and watch it. Thinking "crisis averted" we finished our meal and went to see Star Trek. I had already seen it, so in the middle I decided to go to the bathroom. I told Monte that the part coming up was a big plot point, and many things would be explained, and that he should sit tight until I got back.

I came back from the bathroom and found him in the hallway talking on his cell phone. Puzzled, I said "you were supposed to stay in there. You're missing the plot . . . " He told me to "shhhh" and said "I'm on the phone with the Brinks Home Security people." Now, I can't imagine why he's on the phone with Brinks, since we didn't set the alarm before we left, what with four people running in and out of the place, unless maybe something caught fire. So I stand there freaking out, while he finishes his call, and he said "your mom hit the burglar alarm."

We have been using our attic fan because the days haven't been all that hot yet. Before we left on our date I turned on the air conditioning, but I guess it wasn't doing its job, because mom decided she was warm. She called dad, and told him she was warm, and he said "well, just hit the blue button." There were three things vitally wrong with his advice. One, our thermostat is upstairs between the bedrooms, and she was downstairs next to the front door. Two, we have a touch screen thermostat. No blue button. No buttons at all. Three, she had told him she wasn't wearing her glasses and she couldn't read the buttons she was pressing, so she missed the fact that the blue button she was hitting was actually a picture of a blue police shield and the keypad she was hitting it on was marked "Brinks Home Security."

The good news is, if you have a security alarm installed by Brinks, they do call each and every number in an effort to get hold of you, the cops do come right away and it all works just like its supposed to. The bad news is, we have to find a new babysitter option before our neighborhood association writes us a strongly worded letter about our excessive use of law enforcement.

Waiting for the tooth fairy

Stephen lost his first tooth on Monday. We noticed it had gotten really loose over the weekend in Branson, and when we got home, Monte got a bit of string around it and, after three tries, got it out. It was great. Our six year old Kindergartner became a man. Or at least he joined the lost tooth club.

And then that night we forgot to put it under Stephen's pillow.

Utterly completely totally forgot. When Mason FINALLY lost his first tooth at age 8 last summer, you'd have thought we were celebrating his acceptance into Harvard or something. Speeches were made, backs were patted and a huge deal was made out of putting it under his pillow that night. The surprises left the next morning were a sight to behold. A few weeks later we had to come clean about certain facts regarding the Tooth Fairy, (he was about to enter the Third grade after all,) but for a brief moment, teeth were magical. Since then, however, the magic of lost teeth has tarnished a little. Gotten a tad stale. Poor Stephen just had the bad luck of not losing his first tooth before Mason, which frankly, Mason gave him more than ample time and opportunity to do. So anyway, after we completely forgot Stephen had lost his tooth and should get a visit from the TF, we did our best to make up for it the next night. Monte wrapped a pretend tooth in a bit of paper towel (the real tooth is already affixed on a scrapbook page downstairs--don't judge me) and put it carefully under Stephen's pillow, and in the morning, there was a little bucket with stuff to make s'mores in it. Quite a thing, right? Pageantry and all.

Except that he lost another tooth on Wednesday. And again, we forgot to put it under his pillow.

I know, right? Twice? Having three kids has kind of redefined our family limits, especially when it comes to making a big deal out of stuff the second and third time. Or frankly, just remembering it happened. But, after hanging our heads and explaining we could make it right because we have a hotline straight to the Tooth Fairy's booking agent (he's only six, so I have more time before some kid in his class contradicts my carefully constructed reality), we again wrapped a "tooth" in a paper towel, and put him to bed.

And then, around 11 p.m., plans were set in motion in to replace the paper towel with something more substantial. As the covers were lifted, a shaft of light from the hallway illuminated our sweet little spiderman boy . . . and he was clutching the tooth in his sleep.

It was so precious I can't even tell you. He probably wanted to catch the tooth fairy making the switch, so he could get a good look at her. Or him. Whatever, you know what I mean. So I took his picture, because these are the moments I live for, while I'm cleaning up dried urine from behind the back of the toilet.

Unfortunately, Stephen never got to catch the Tooth Fairy. He is afflicted with his mother's ability to sleep though gale force winds and category F5 tornadoes and nuclear testing and such. Tragic, really. Adorable, but tragic.

PS And his index finger isn't broken. It's double jointed. THAT he inherited from his dad's freaky side of the family.

Branson Landing

We went down to Branson Landing on Saturday night, to eat at Shorty Smalls. There was a 30 minute wait, so we went down to look at the water, and as we did, fog rolled in. Like, within ten minutes, there was fog where there had been no fog before. Speedy acting insta-fog, the kind Americans would make if they commercially produced fog, and the kind Europeans would sneer at in some sort of accented snobbery, as if to say, "fog made zhat quickly is inferior! You ridiculous Americans and your microwaves and drive thrus and immediate fog. You know noth-zing. NOTH-ZING!"

Anyway.

It was cool. Neat foggy type fog, and it accented the area perfectly, and made for such a pretty picture, and it would all have been just right.

Except.

The water smelled really really fishy. Pee-yew!

Run out of town on a rail

This is a true story of four men and one woman, living in a hotel room in Branson, Missouri, who are having their lives photographed, to see what happens when people stop being polite and start being real. The REAL world, Branson! (It wouldn't last a whole season.)

Here are my four guys on the Branson Senic Railway trip. We traveled an hour south into Arkansas, and then stopped on this very very very high train tresle, sat there a minute to let the fact that we were very very very high up sink in (I have a fear of heights and bridges and open windows and so on), and then the train reversed itself and we traveled back the way we came, to Branson Landing. All in all it was around a 2 hour trip, which wasn't too bad, although if it had been much longer, Peyton would have registered several complaints, or pooped on something. Or someone.

I gave the boys some disposible cameras to see what they would take pictures of. Stephen took lots of grainy underexposed pictures of price tags and knick knacks at the Branson IMAX Mall. Mason took lots of pictures of himself and his brothers doing dorky stuff. I paid to have these things developed. You see the fly in the ointment, don't you?

I think now that we're home and eveyrone has had a good night's sleep, I should be kinder and gentler in my Branson vacation review. I mean, it was full of nice stuff, and the sleep loss and rough housing and perpetual motion and constant complaining are things we put up with at home . . . it's just that, at home, I can send perpetual motion complainers off to different parts of the house so that they can fine tune their argument, leaving me to do my job of not hearing them or seeing them. So, next vacation, we're just going to have to rent a house to stay in. Or a department store. Or the Mall of America.

Labor and pain

I planned a trip for my family in Branson, MO, this past Memorial Day weekend. We saw the Irish Tenors, which was nice, and rode the Senic Railway, also nice. Unfortunately, I learned many many lessons during this trip, including:

1. Peyton is too little and the other two are too rowdy to share a hotel room with. This means no meaningful family vacation until 2015.
2. by 2015, none of us will be speaking to each other.
3. I must never ever plan a vacation, as I get a little emotionally imvolved when it doesn't go as planned.

It was a tough weekend.

Stephen Ells, MD

Stephen was covered with poision ivy (again) and I was putting some medicine on it, when he said, "Mom, I think I'm allergic to all these bug bites." I said, "Oh, really? You're allergic to bug bites?" He said, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

Then there was this long pause

And then he said, "Or maybe cheese."

Stephen is not allergic to cheese. He's allergic to being serious.

Kaleidoscope, Crown Center, Kansas City, Missouri, USA, Earth

The four Fairview Third Grade classes (all 100 kids) enjoyed a trip to Crown Center, and Kaleidoscope, in Kansas City. Monte and I went, along with other parents and teacher helpers, to herd the herd. It was a pretty good time. Mason made several things, although I didn't get to see him much, since I had to man the "gold and silver paper on a roll" station. I had to cut the paper off for each kid, because the scissors chained to the station for cutting purposes were dull and didn't work very well. Monte didn't fare much better--he was in charge of the "glue a bunch of stuff together your parents would consider trash, and then call it art" station. There were empty tape spools, all sorts of plastic pieces and parts, and crazy ribbon. He looked so bewildered, like he was thinking, "but I just threw a bunch of stuff just like this away at work, and now you are all climbing over me to get to it, and glue it together. Maybe later you can get my hamburger wrapper from lunch out of the garbage and make a hat out of it."

Ah, childhood!

You are so beautiful to me

You can't see it, because I can't make this picture big enough on blogger, but Mason's eyes are simply stunning in this shot. What a precious little man I have. Ah, he's a heart breaker.

Things you may not know about Mason:
1. Besides video games, he loves the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series by Rick Riordan. We're on the last book, "The Last Olympian" right now. He also enjoys the Harry Potter series, although not quite as much.
2. He asks very mature questions.
3. He loves the Lakers. A lot. He practices his jump shot in hallways, theater bathrooms, restaurant lobbys, EVERYWHERE. Kobe Bryant is his favorite player, but he's starting to branch out and enjoy other players as well.
4. He is beginning to rebel a little, but in his heart he wants very much to please his parents.
5. He is 4 feet 9 inches tall. His mother is 5 feet 5 inches tall. His feet are about an inch shorter than his mother's feet. His mother is 30 years older than he is. I'll save you the graphs and trend charts, and just say, he's gonna be taller than his mother in about a minute and a half.
6. He loves Coldstone ice cream, especially mint with chocolate sprinkles, but hates frozen custard.
7. He likes to go on walks/jogs with his mom and or his dad, and when we're jogging up Chapel Hill, he chants "You can do it! I'm so proud of you! You can beat this hill!" And you know what? It helps a gal get up and over the hill, without too many rest breaks!

There's probably a joke in there about him helping me get "over the hill" but I'll leave it to the reader to craft it.

I'm sooooo sorry!

For anyone who attended yesterday's worship service at Fairview Road Church of Christ in Columbia, MO, I would like to publicly say I'm so so very sorry for forcing Monte to lead "The Lord Bless You and Keep You" as the closing song. I take 100% of the blame. Totally my fault. Rookie mistake. You know it's bad when your friends look at you and say "Oh, wow. You didn't think this through, did you." Like, when they look at your 80s prom dress choice or your wedding hair.

Nope. I didn't. Thought it would be fine. Figured it would be cool. Like the day we went to Johnson Shut-ins with baby Mason, and I thought a regular diaper would act just like a swim diaper, for a short period of time.

It wont. It'll blow up to 10 times its regular size and then explode in a gelatinous crystallized mess. And all the way back to the car, in the woods, with no real recourse but to carry the bewildered gelatin covered baby, you think to yourself, "I'm going back, not to a real bathroom, but a tent and a campsite." (The baby, although 9 now, still acts as though his parents have no idea what they're doing. I suspect it started right there at Johnson Shut-ins.)

Upside though, I now know what a vocal train wreck that song is! Lesson learned--only three billion more just like it to go! (I'm a simpleton.)

Ahhhhhh-men.

P.S. This afternoon, to get the sound of that closing song out of my ears, I went to the new Star Trek movie. Ooooo, it was soooo good. I give it six stars out of five. Dang it, Chris Pine is cute. Holy cow! I don't get a sitter, like EVER, and I would leave my kids with a street corner hobo to see this sucker twice, and happily pay the eight bucks for the privilege. It. is. So. So. Good. Christmas dinner at grandma's good. Ethel M's chocolate good. Two hour massage good. Free luxury hotel accommodations good. IT'S GOOD! GO SEE THIS MOVIE!!!

Just don't sing. They don't take kindly to that on Vulcan.

Rock the vote

I just ran a few of my Mother's Day gift actions from MCPActions.com on this picture, and I have to say, I like it better. You can't see it, since I have to upload these within Blogger parameters, which means small, but after darkening the lighter background and lightening Pepe's face a little, especially his eyes, it seems to enhance the overall look and accent the depth of field to me. I dunno. I just wish he hadn't been wearing a dang dark brown shirt. and sitting next to the black piano bench. But the mess was where and when it was, which prompted the picture in the first place. It's all about location.

I know I'm going to look back on these pictures in five years and think how utterly clueless I was about retouching in Photoshop. They'll be embarrassing first tries, like a fifth grade art project that your mom shows all your adult friends. "My, she certainly was a fan of, uh, color, wasn't she?" Ack.

You'll have to be the judges. Which picture is better, the first one (the one in the last post, not quite straight out of the camera, but close) or the above computer-enhanced second one?

I eagerly await your opinions!

Boys for sale, gently used, cheap!

This one is cute, and he takes an occasional nap, but in the interest of full disclosure, he tears up anything set in any kind of order. Order in general makes him angry.
Also, be aware he has a knack for turning on and off computer components. And lights. And small appliances. CD Players, vacuums, TVs, Tivos, DVD players . . .
This one is nice too, and very low miles, but is consistently covered in ticks and Poison Ivy, Oak, Sumac, etc.
Also, he has many many criticisms for his care givers, as they attempt to counteract the work of the ticks and Poison Ivy, Oak, Sumac, etc.
This one mainly just sits in one spot and plays video games. I would suggest you start here if you're looking for a low maintenance boy. Just remember to triple your present grocery expenses when calculating the household budget.

Please direct inquiries to Mom. All sales are final.

Okay, just kidding. They're not really for sale. Who would keep me warm in the middle of the night when they come in and want to chat at 3 a.m.?

Unless somebody makes me a really really really good offer.

Salon Adair and Spa is just NOT that into me

So I'm feeling pretty cranky right now. I just sat for 30 minutes in the waiting room at Salon Adair and Spa, across from Hy-vee in Columbia, hoping for a haircut. I didn't need a style, or even sparkling conversation. Just a haircut that brings the ends of my hair back in alignment with each other. I called on Saturday to make an appointment for sometime pretty quick, and after stifling a yawn, the terse and sleep deprived receptionist with barely veiled disdain, told me they had a six o'clock on Monday, and did I want it? Okay, I said, and gave her my name. Mason had a baseball game at seven-thirty, so I reasoned that, surely, an hour would give me enough time to get a haircut, drive the two miles back to our house, and leave an extra fifteen minutes of organization time before we had to leave for the game. Surely. I mean, in this economy, nobody turns down business, right? Right? Is this thing on?

Not so at Salon Adair and Spa. They apparently have so much ridiculous business coming out of their amazingly coiffed ears, that they have no problem treating customers like they were something unpleasant on the bottom of a manolo blahnik. I walked in at six on the dot, and checked in. The receptionist (a new one this time) reacted to my presence like she would extend her help only out of sheer boredom and lack of anything better to do, which didn't bother me too much early on. It was only after fifteen minutes of sitting on their overstuffed couches reading boring hair and bride magazines that I realized I had been utterly forgotten. I walked up to the receptionist and explained I had a six o'clock appointment, and it was now quite a bit past that. She stared at me like she couldn't decide what to do next, and then after a protracted pause, told me she'd go check with the stylist. The stylist, it seemed, was still working on the person ahead of me, but she was just finishing up. I assented, but asserted I had to be finished by seven. The receptionist then said the most amazing thing. She said, "Well, it takes about an hour for a haircut." Hadn't I scheduled an hour? Wasn't six to seven exactly an hour? Ignoring the fact that this obvious point was lost on everybody but me, I said "Well, maybe she can just cut it and not style it or anything." At this point the receptionist and I agreed everything that could be said on the subject had been, and I sat back down.

At six twenty-five, I realized I was not important in any way to the entire staff of Salon Adair and Spa. Neither the receptionist nor the stylist had initiated any contact with me. I had to ask why my appointment was off schedule. (I never saw the stylist at all.) Finally, I stood up. The receptionist, realizing I might be upset, for the first time, said "I'm sorry." To her credit, she actually used a tone that implied she was being sincere. Unfortunately, it was too little too late. I said, "Thanks anyway" and "It is what it is" (in response to her apology), and left.

Nobody up there cares I left. In fact they're probably celebrating getting to go home early. And they really didn't lose a lot of business. I have my slow growing hair cut, maybe five times a year. But if the subject comes up, I wont hesitate to share my experience. Like I'm doing now with you good people out there. See, it's very hard for someone who takes care of a baby all day to get a second to herself for a haircut. Once you carve out the time, it just seems too precious to spend on waiting rooms and rude treatment.

My apologies to anyone from out of town who reads this . . . sometimes a gal's gotta vent.

Something I wish I'd written

You get a lot of good stuff off http://thepioneerwoman.com/. For example, there are the photography tips, hints, tricks and free photoshop actions, which have really helped prod my picture taking evolution. There are the fabulous recipes that I will never ever ever attempt, but that still look amazing in pictures that make the food look piping hot and delicious, like you could smell it cooking right through the internet. There's the smartypants quizzes, the homeschooling info (that, I'll be honest, isn't of much use to me) and the harlequin romance novel story of Pioneer Woman's courtship with Marlboro Man (her husband). All of which is extremely valuable and worthwhile information . . . but today, in a post about her mom and grandma, Pioneer Woman published the attached poem which really touched me. It was in there because her mom forwarded the poem, which is just like her mom to do (it was a mother's day post, after all). But I read it and thought, "this is how I feel when I stand out on my back deck alone and stare into the city-fied woods, and remember growing up on the farm near real woods, and real fields and real hog smell. Hog smell aside, a powerful bond exists between me and God's creation, and my small but solid place in it, and frankly, I just liked the poem's words.
------------------------------
“In Blackwater Woods” by Mary Oliver, from American Primitive. © Back Bay Books, 1983.

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
-------------------------
Yeah, Mary, I'll try. I'll try.

Bye bye baby

As inevitable as death, taxes and TV show dry spells, the day of Peyton's first haircut was coming and it was getting to be just a question of when. Monte had had enough of strangers commenting on how pretty his sweet little girl is (dang it, he IS pretty), and the other boys needed haircuts, so after the intervention, off we went on Friday to SportsClips. Peyton's hair was a little long, I'll admit, but it's basically cotton candy air fluff, and there really isn't much there when you get right down to it. Besides, he's so pretty and it's not THAT long. However, I am a reasonable person, and when threatened with being excluded from the first haircut and just finding out it happened later, I was motivated to go ahead and get on the haircut bandwagon that everyone else was already aboard. Here are some before and after pictures from the big day.

See, nobody but me gets that now that his hair's been cut, he's a little boy. He was a baby until Friday at 4:30, and after that he became a boy. It's the Christian version of a bar mitzvah--my son is a man, without the reading from the torah and the obligatory band. He no longer needs his mom in the same way as he did before. You think I'm being melodramatic, but later that night, he used a fork successfully, and he now says the words "fla" (flower) "Maah" (more) and "guh" (juice/drink). If he sees the floor he reaches for it, and once there he's off like a shot, in whatever direction I'm not in. I mean, give him a driver's license and a bank account, and suddenly he's calling me "mother" and shaking my hand in greeting. Waaaaaaaaaaaa!

God may be in the details, but Kindergarteners are NOT

I'm reading Stephen the second Harry Potter book. If you've never read it (and really, this explanation is for all five of you out there who haven't), there's a school called Hogwarts and in it are four houses the kids are sorted into: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Stephen was engrossed in the chapter, which discussed Harry's interaction with some Hufflepuff kids and some Slytherin kids. When we finished reading, we had this conversation:

MOM: So, what did you think of tonight's chapter?
STEPHEN: Good.
MOM: What was your favorite part?
STEPHEN: I don't know. Which kid was Ernie? Was Ernie a Sucklepuppy?
MOM: A Sucklepuppy?
STEPHEN: Yeah, you know, a Sucklepuppy or a Hidden Door?
MOM: You mean a Hufflepuff or a Gryffindor?
STEPHEN: Yeah, that's what I said.
MOM: Oh. He's a Sucklepuppy.
STEPHEN: That's what I thought.

It's not about the details with boys. It's about how wacky you can get when you mangle the details. I think I'll write to J.K. Rowling and tell her she needs to rewrite the books using Sucklepuppy and Hidden Door, because from now on, that's what I'll be thinking when I come across Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.

Are you making fun of my mullet?

My daddy's hair looks just like this in his and mom's wedding album. Seriously.

This movement needs more allegro, fortissimo . . . and DiMaggio!

Having a little brother can be difficult at times. Especially when you've got two. Mason seems to be coping better than most, and for the most part, his payback has been the adulation of little bit and even littler bit.

But sometimes, a man's got a job to do and having little brothers can get in the way. For example, let's just say a man's got to practice his piano. Although Mason has one recital under his belt (last Sunday) he's still got more to do in piano learnin'. But how can you play with a little brother all up in your business?

I guess it's time to embrace the fact that little brothers aren't going anywhere, and you just have to deal with it!

When Peyton closes a door, he does NOT open a window

Oh, hello Mom. I'm sorry, but we're not interested in anything you're selling.

Yes, thank you, good-bye now. That's right, I'm closing the door.

See how much fun it is, when Mom is outside and Peyton is INSIDE? Now shoo or I'll set the dogs on you! (We don't have any dogs, but the door seems to be doing it's job.)

Parole Hearing

All five of us were sitting around a table at Red Lobster, eating dinner. In silence. It almost never happens, and when it does it never lasts. However, it was actually lasting for once, when suddenly, Stephen breaks the silence with . . .

STEPHEN: "Dad, what would happen if Mom went to jail?"

MONTE: "Uh, I'd be sad. What would she go to jail for?"

STEPHEN: "Well, what if she forgets to feed me?"

MONTE: "When has she ever forgotten to feed you?"

MOM: "Well, what do you do when you are hungry and you need something to eat? Wouldn't you just go to the kitchen and find something to eat?"

STEPHEN: "No, I would go to a restaurant, but how would I get there and who would drive me?"

MOM: "What about our kitchen in our house?"

STEPHEN: "No, I can't go there, there's nothing in there but muffin tops [eggo waffles] and yogurt."

Niiiiiice. The only reason I'm not in jail is that I know where all the restaurants are in Columbia.

Belated thank you note

• Thank you, Lisa Doty Guerrero and Kim Harper Frances, for teaching me to ride a bike at grandma and grandpa Doty's house. Lisa brought infinate patience, Kim brought passionate motivation--it was the perfect storm, and the bike got rode.


• Thank you, Rachel and Riley Doty for the American Royal, trips in a big grain truck with too many people in the cab, trips to Silver Dollar City, trips all over. I hope there's a travel plan in heaven.


• Thank you, Bob and Joyce Doty, for taking me to the Camelot Hotel in Little Rock, AR when I was 14, and showing me for the first time what man made splendor was.


• Thank you, Julie Doty Mankins, for being my first best friend. Thank you Susie Harvey, for being the last best friend I'll ever need.


• Thank you, Elaine and Clyde Harper, for the camping trips and the pies made out of white bread and cherry pie filling, cooked over a campfire.


• Thank you, Chris and Sharon Harper, for buying all kinds of stuff I sold when I was in school for this or that. I always think of you when I see a little kid with an order blank in his hand.


• Thank you, Laura Harper McWilliams, for showing me in adulthood what peace looks like, and for all those late night little girl talks under the Nadia Comaneci poster in your room back in the day.


• Thank you, Lisa Brass Ross, for the funny, funny, oh so funny.


• Thank you, Lisa Viets, for freshman year in high school, and not having to walk the halls alone.


• Thank you, Barbara Anderson Bickford and Stephanie O'Neal Beck for the 80s funny, funny, oh so funny, and how many times did we sing The Rose on some sort of stage, or at least in front of people? Too many. Bette Midler called. She wants her song back.


• Thank you, Andrew and Tiffany Lough and Michael and Alicia Moore, for Branson. Each and every time.
• Thank you Terri Hines, for several thousand dollars' worth of lunches. I'll never live long enough to pay you back! And for being my friend, and funny and for helping me face all those doctors . . .

I know I'm forgetting somebody . . . I'll probably have to do this again with a second list.

Mom and Dad, Brandon and Karen, Shauna and Matt, Monte, I'm always thankful for you, and hopefully you know what for.

I love Photoshop Actions

Because they turn the little guy on the left, into the little guy on the right! Boom! Yea color boost, yea lightener, yea yea yea!

Also, for those of you keeping score at home, Mozilla Firefox is faster, less flaky and a far superior browser than IE7, much like the MAC is superior to the PC in every way but third party software availability. Take that, Microsoft.

Oh MY!

My sister's year and a half old baby Ben is a spirited little guy who loves to scream and throw and run and bite and grin and laugh and play. He is a typical boy, and as a typical boy, he likes to rip the pages from books instead of looking at them and gently patting the pictures. (I have several books with no pages in them anymore. We switched to board books after the doctor announced the second Ellis baby would be a boy too.) But Shauna's Ben has done an artful job of ripping the above book, and Shauna wonders aloud, "Is he trying to send me a message?"

Yes, Shauna. Yes he is.

Welcome baby Caden!

So, I was helping to plan this baby shower for my friend, when baby Caden James arrived early and threw everybody off schedule! It's okay, he's just cute enough to get away with it. The little guy is just under 4 pounds and 18 inches long, with lot of hair! (All my babies were so precious, but also so bald. I've always been jealous of babies with lots of hair!)

Fritz's

GeoTagged, [N39.08325, E94.58183]

A few weeks ago while in Kansas City for LTC, we ate at Fritz's in Crown Center. Fritz's is a train-themed burger joint, with a black old time corded telephone for customers to "call" in a food order, and each booth was decorated with a train car-looking window that shows paintings of scenery, I guess to simulate what it might look like if you were on a real train and looked out the window or something (I've never been on a train, so I'm wildly guessing here). Anyway, the cutest part is that instead of people, an actual mini-train brings the food (people still bring drinks--they're not completely insane). It's on an overhead track that goes around the perimeter of the restaurant, and a little mechanical arm drops down in front of your table stop when the food is for you. Then, when the train passes by over head, the arm drags the food off the train and on to a tray, which is lowered down to your table. The boys couldn't stop staring at the process of each table getting their food. One box of food nearly fell off the tray while it was still in midair because the train went by kind of fast, and we jokingly wondered to each other if any of the trays ever topple over and pelt people with burgers and fries. The Hajicek family ate at Fritz's the same night, and I guess when you're both lawyers, you don't just wonder things and move on, you verify with people who know. So they asked the waitress if the food ever actually spills on unsuspecting customers, and she told them that, no, it didn't happen very often, only about once a week. We all agreed once a week represented a high incidence rate of food falling from the ceiling, not a low one, but even though we went back once more during the weekend, we never got to see anyone wearing a burger hat or fries for hair. But wouldn't that have been so cool?

My Favorite Websites . . . right now

If you know me, you know I don't live long without technology. Even camping I take my cell phone and make sure we can use Google Earth on it or some sort of GPS to make sure we can find the tent again. I do a lot of my shopping online (no crowds), nearly all of my banking (again, did I mention no crowds) and even track how far I've walked with my Nike+ shoes (to get AWAY from the crowds).

So it would seem I have a teeny tiny expertise in the area of rampant internet consumerism, and for one lucky post, all my knowledge can be yours. Shall we begin?

MY TOP ELEVEN FAVORITE WEB SITES (in no particular order)--That's right, eleven, deal with it!!!

1. The Shabby Shoppe digital scrapbook store: http://www.theshabbyshoppe.com/
   I just like this lady's digital scrapbook kits and designs. Plus, I use them for a lot more than scrapbooking . . . the spring kit will figure prominently in baby shower decorations in the next few weeks!
2. Pioneer Woman Photography: http://thepioneerwoman.com/
   Has awesome Photoshop actions, Photoshop tutorials, Photography hints, and even other website sections related to cooking and home schooling. The recipes look great and her pictures of them look even better. She can keep the home schooling, though!
3. Oh My Crafts: http://www.ohmycrafts.com/
   Everything scrapbooking, and it's cheaper than at the stores. Plus, sometimes they offer free shipping, or a discount on your total order, which makes all your craft items an even better buy!
4. Nelle and Lizzy: http://www.nelleandlizzy.com/
   Personalized silver rings and necklaces, and in a style you can't really find anywhere else. You can have your baby or sweetie's name in silver on your finger or around your neck, just in time for Mother's Day! These pieces are the bomb!
5. Columbia's Kitchen (formerly Super Suppers): http://www.columbiaskitchen.com/
   It's like having mom cook for you, then freeze the dish! Delicious, better than supermarket frozen food, and cheaper than eating out. I highly recommend the Bacon Cheeseburger Meatloaf and the Green Chile Chicken Enchiladas.
6. Ancestry.com: http://www.ancestry.com/
   Let's face it. If you're doing family history research, you're eventually going to have to get on this site. I know, I know, rootsweb and genweb are free, and this involves a membership, but still, you can get more info, in less time, with easier search tools and better hints from the mama of them all. Ancestry still rules the genealogy game.
7. Hulu: http://www.hulu.com/
   I have a thing for the past, especially old time radio and TV broadcasts (for my purposes, old time radio and TV involves anything originally broadcast in the 30s, 40s, 50s or 60s--in some cases I'll include 70s and 80s if I'm being nostalgic for my own old time lifespan.) Hulu has great TV shows you can watch on your computer for free, if you don't mind a few commercials. They have some of the old 60s Dragnet TV show, and of course, some newer stuff, depending on your taste.
8. Netflix: http://www.netflix.com/
   And, if you don't mind a few bucks a month and sitting at your computer monitor instead of your television (or at your TV if you have Tivo hooked up to Netflix, but I digress), you can watch even more old TV with no commercials. Plus some movies. I love this service--it's really worth the $14 a month to get the Rockford Files any time I want me a little James Garner in 70s polyester plaid.
9. iTunes: http://www.itunes.com/
   I love downloading old time radio and listening to it while doing the stuff I don't want to do, like laundry and such. It makes the separation of whites and darks so much more interesting, if Boston Blackie or The Shadow or Perry Mason are solving crime in my head! Plus most of the OTR podcasts on iTunes are free. Can't beat it, unless you don't have an iPod or other MP3 player. But seriously, that's like not owning a microwave anymore, right?
10. Pro Bar meal replacement bars: http://theprobar.com/
    I love the Cran Lemon Twister, and the Cherry Pretzel ones the best! If you're out or busy or need a little snack, these babies can either be a pick me up or a whole meal, depending on how much of them you eat (350 calories per bar). They really fill you up if you're hungry and lunch is still a long way off--and you can slip them in a diaper bag or purse or car glove box or hide them under your bed or in your underwear drawer! Think of the options! Plus, after you find out how good they are for you, you can buy them here (or at Clover's, but since this is all about the web, we'll gloss over that.)
11. One True Media: http://www.onetruemedia.com/
    Get all that footage out of your camera and into everyone's e-mail inbox! You upload your clips to OTM, add in some (for the most part) free styles, effects, transitions, music, whatever, and then you can share it by e-mail, to another person's Tivo, buy a DVD of it, any number of options. You don't have to invest in footage editing software or burn your own DVDs or try and get Grandma to understand how to open the MPEG file you sent. I use this site a lot!

Ta-da! Oh, and of course, blogger.com, but then again, you guys knew that!

PS: Other sites I love, but that didn't make the list because it was getting too long: http://www.bellasnaps.com/scripts/default.asp; http://www.talkshoe.com/talkshoe/web/talkCast.jsp?masterId=18797&cmd=tc; http://www.heavenlystitchesembroidery.com/ (yes, that's Hayden, it's Kristin Lasiter's site);
http://www.otr.net/; http://www.papertreyink.com/; https://lty.s.upromise.com/secure/cookiedHomePage.do and http://www.twopeasinabucket.com/shop/

Sometimes you want the drama

Mason's LTC drama participation (turn the sound up--my camera didn't catch the sound very well). It's a call in radio show, where the host, Ferris C. (Pharisee--get it?) played by William Kallenbach (yes, he's ready for his close-up) isn't all that fond of that radical Jesus guy, until the very end . . . Mason plays Peter, one of the diciples.

Life, Light, Word and Exhaustion

We spent the weekend at Leadership Training for Christ, a church based retreat in Kansas City where kids 3rd through 12th grades competed in events designed to grow them spiritually and encourage the development of their leadership skills. Each year there's a theme, and this year it was Life, Light & Word, the gospel of John. This was Mason's first year to participate, and the events he competed in were Christian art, speech, drama, bible reading, bible quiz & puppets. The whole weekend was amazing (it was at Crown Center also, so there was great food and shops when we weren't running to and from events), but the best part was anything Mason participated in--we had been before as church organizers, but there's something about having your own kid in the events, that makes it all feel so rewarding. He worked so hard--besides memorizing his lines for drama, he nearly memorized his speech and the first four chapters of John! Here's his speech (given at 8 a.m. on Saturday, in a suit, after having less than optimal sleep, thank you very much!)

We were really really tired when we got home, (and a few of us got the stomach flu and threw up so they were even more tired than the rest of us), but we would do it all again just to see Mason so grown up. (Well, grown up with the exception of a few escalator and elevator moments, but then again, Monte IS his dad!)

Sorry PETA, I just don't get it

GeoTagged, [N38.93424, E92.38938]

So, Peyton and I are in the Westlake Hardware store picking up some mulch, when we are transported through the looking glass into an upside-down world. Normally, any store experience is like a baby show without all the rouge and dysfunctional stage moms. "Oh isn't he precious!" "My grandson is about the same age--isn't this a fun time?" "What a charmer! What a doll!" And so on. (You get used to it.) So imagine my surprise when the cashier at Westlakes simply takes my money and hands me back my change while avoiding eye contact like I was there all by myself . . . I'm all "Really? No one sees the adorable baby with the cute hat? Sitting right here? Being . . . adorable and such?"

It was true. No one was looking at Peyton. That's bizarre enough to end the story right there. But then, as if this wasn't Twilight Zone-y enough, a guy comes in, and at the end of his leash was something best described as the result of breeding a large black dog with a small, even blacker, horse. Do the employees scream and run for cover? Do they ask the animal what it wants and beg it not to hurt anybody? NO! The cashiers go ga-ga! Nuts! Completely bonkers over this canine giant. "Oh my goodness, what a sweet baby! She is beautiful, what is her name! Raven? Oh how precious!!!" Blah blah blah. I mean, this hellhound looking beast didn't really evoke 'sweet' so much as bone-chilling fright, like the kind of dog you'd find guarding the gates of Hades (although, to be fair, the scary dog-horse was very well behaved). And these grandmotherly cashiers are overtly fawning, and Peyton can't get a "Hello there" to save his life. What sort of freak show mixed up world are we living in anyway? :) I'm going to stay in my house until things right themselves again.