"Maka you Christopher"

Mom, maka you Christopher

C-h-r-i-s-t-o-p-h-e-r

Maka you Zachary

Z-a-c-h-a-r-y

Maka you daddy.

Maka you Madison.

Maka you Nick.

Maka you Mom.

Maka you Disneyland.

Maka you Christopher.

Christopher is obsessed with having me write his name and everyone else's on nearly everything. Paper, the whiteboard, and apparently now my blog. He's whining at me right now.

"Maka you Christopher."

The upshot is, he's pretty good at reading names. Our names, his friends' names, his classmates' names... And can spell most of them for you. Also, it sorta sounds like he has an Italian accent. It's the best when he talks about food "Mommas a maka you-a pizza."

I have decided to cross off "furniture mover" as a possible career choice.

I mentioned yesterday that John was out of town when I got my chair for my library.

"That's ok. It's just a chair. How hard can it be, really? I can totally do it myself."

Holy cow.

And so the question is, How does one girl (me) get the World's Heaviest Chair from the back of her Suburban and into my house without killing myself?

With my brains and my kids' wagon that's how.

Of course getting it onto the wagon was quite a feat, and I nearly quit right there and waited for either Nick or my neighbor Mike to get home, but I persisted.

And navigating the front walk was pretty tricky, and getting it in the front door...

Then there was the fact that it was in two pieces and needed to be assembled, but didn't come with instructions...

And it was only by chance I discovered the feet tied in a bag to the underside of the chair...

But I did it!

All by myself.

7 years

Seven years ago we were in the process of building this house. Every Sunday afternoon we would take the kids over and wander through the skeleton of our future home looking for progress, and trying to visualize what it would be like when it was done and finally ours. We would get so excited about each and every little thing that was "new".

"This will be Nick's room, this one is Maddie's, and this is gonna be Zach's. The couch will go here, and the TV here... Look! We have plumbing!!!"

And since I have visualization problems, I'd sneak off to the model home every chance I got to see it completed. I remember once not being able to rest until I checked out the lighting in the kitchen and talked to the salesman. I didn't remember if we upgraded the lighting or not, because when you build a house there are 40,000 possible upgrade options and after awhile all you see are dollar signs, and what if, what if I got the standard lighting and it was (gasp!) fluorescent lighting? (It wasn't)

One thing that started to bother me was that the house has a dining room. I didn't really see the need for dining rooms. They're kinda stupid. A whole room dedicated to eating a fancy meal once or twice a year? And given that you use the room on "special occasions" it is generally accepted that the furniture be a little nicer than your average kitchen table, and the dinnerware be a little nicer as well.

We don't own any of that stuff. And our money is generally being spent on things we use pretty regularly and has to stand up to four (then three) active kids.

A whole room dedicated to a couple of meals a year where I will spend the whole meal worrying that somebody (myself or the kids) will spill cranberry sauce on the carpet?

In other words, I think dining rooms are stupid.

Apparently I'm not the only one.

Our house was a pretty popular model. I have several friends who live in my exact house. Instead of a dining room table, one friend stuck a pool table in her dining room. I know someone with a baby grand piano in there. One friend walled it off and made an office. And another completely remodeled her kitchen, moved some walls around, and now she has a walk in pantry where her dining room once was.

Since those days of wandering around the skeleton of my future house, I have had a different vision for that room.

I wanted a library.

My vision included a 9 foot book case along the one wall without a window, and the rest of it was a little blurry. A chair or two? A table? Maybe a desk?

For seven years I have kept my eyes out for the right book case.

I never really found the "perfect one" and any extra money was usually needed elsewhere, so for seven years our dining room/library has remained empty. Except for of course at Christmastime, and that's where we'd put the tree.

The only exception being this last year, that room has been home to The Ghetto Couch, because the kids have been having so much fun playing with a piece of furniture where nobody restricts activity -gymnastics? Why not? Using the cushions for a fort? Be my guest. I just haven't had the heart to throw it out (it's a good bet to look for a future posting on the love/hate relationship we have with The Ghetto Couch.) The thought of putting it out on the end of the driveway with a "free! Take Me!" sign on it, brings more than one kid to tears.

But soon, any day now, that couch will have to make room for my brand new library. (And the Christmas tree will have to find a new home next year too)

This year, I saved all the money I used from selling caramels, and combined that with any birthday and Christmas money I was given and went shopping. We looked at a few different places, and couldn't find anything we loved.

We really liked this one (I didn't have a tape measure and was too lazy to go look for a salesperson, besides I hate the way they stand there and stare at you waiting for you to make a decision, and I like to stew on big purchases for days or weeks, coming back to look at something time and time again) so I made John stand in front of it for perspective. (when we got home I made him pose the same way to get a feel for it)

That particular book case ended up being too big for the wall, and while I really love the idea of having a ladder on my book case, (that bar running across it behind John's head supports a ladder) I was afraid Christopher would like it more, and he'd end up breaking an arm jumping off it or something. The $2500 price tag made me choke a little, (okay, more than a little) but that seems to be about the going rate for a larger wall unit. (hence the 7 year wait)

And then in my searches, I discovered a little furniture store- Cortate Furniture. They are as bare bones as they come. Only open 3 days- just 18 hours a week. No showroom- you order from a catalog. No returns, refunds, or exchanges. (They don't keep stock on hand) It's owned by a lady named Hope, who started the business to help herself and others get reasonably priced furniture. I think her only employees are her grown kids. They're all super nice and honest, and helpful, and I think hands down I don't think I've never had a better furniture shopping experience. AND I'M STILL WAITING FOR MY FURNITURE. (I really can't say enough nice things about the people or my experience so far- if you're in the Gilbert area and in the market for furniture go check them out.)

Long story short, two months ago I walked out of her little store with the receipts for a book case, a desk for me, and a reclining reading chair. All for less than money than I was thinking I was going to have to spend on just the bookcase. And the desk and book case are custom made solid wood affairs. (hence the two month wait)

So yeah, that was two months ago. I did get the chair a week ago. (that's another story) And I am still waiting for the other furniture. It's been 7 years, but these past couple of weeks have been the worst. I run to the phone in anticipation every time. "Oh, Hi John. It's just you. So, how's (insert city here)?"

Any day now.

Hopefully they will call on a day John is actually in town. They don't deliver, and have no room to store it for you, so they want you to come pick it up that day. And that would really suck if I would have to do it by myself.

10 1/2 months to go...

Madison got invited to her first Young Women's activity at our church last night.

No, she's not twelve yet.

They had a 'New Beginnings' night, and invited all the girls who will be turning 12 sometime during the year.

Now she's even more impatient to turn twelve.

It's already killing her that she's not old enough to babysit.

Of course, out of all the girls there, guess who was the youngest?

I remember being her age. (and as we have the exact same birthday, I can totally relate) I remember sitting on the back row of primary watching all the other kids graduate and move on until I was the. very. last. one.

It sucked.

I had always loved primary, but then something clicked inside of me, and the best way to describe it was I was in limbo.

waiting.

waiting.

waiting.

At least all of Madison's besties are younger than her. My BFF was 2 weeks older than me. I really hated her those two weeks.

She would go on, and on, about how awesome Young Women's was, and what super fun activity they did that Wednesday, and look at this cute handout they gave us to go along with the lesson, which by the way was totally awesome.

I really, really couldn't stand her those two weeks. I think every word out of her mouth had something to do with how much she loved being in Young Women's and how glad she was to not be in primary any more.

I think it will help me, remembering how I felt when I was her age, because watching all those beautiful older young women last night, I started to panic that I am not ready for any of that. I am amazed at the difference just a couple of years make.

very, very scary.

(just a random thing I noticed- I think Maddie is wearing the exact same pearl necklace in both pictures)

I'm better now.

"better" being a relative term of course.

John let me take a three hour nap this afternoon.

And then for FHE we had a nice discussion on how we can ALL make our home a happier one. And discussed ways to revamp the current system of chores and responsibilities around here.

And why I don't feel like making cookies or dinner for or playing games with or being in the general vicinity of children who leave me messes like this to clean up.

(Granted these pictures were taken last February, this is what I returned home to find one evening, and while this is an extreme example, scenes like this are a little more common than they should be. And fyi I made my kids stay up way past the their bedtimes on a school night until it was all cleaned up )

I am totally open to ANY thoughts, ideas, or suggestions on what works for you, has worked for you at any period, worked for your mother, friend, neighbor, etc.

It's probably PMS

I ran away yesterday.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I thought we'd get the day started off right and I promised the kids I'd bake something yummy if we could get the house cleaned.

5 hours later I was at my wit's end.

"Are you seriously telling me you cleaned this bathroom?!?! That toilet is so disgusting it should have warning signs. And what did you wipe down the counter with? a kleenex?"

"Really??? You're telling me your bedroom is clean? I'd like to know what it looked like before, because all I see are clothes all over the floor and your bed isn't even made! Seriously you're telling me this is clean? You're either a liar or incompetent, which one is it?"

Then there was the fighting, and the screaming, and the hitting, and the tattling, and the whining. It was non-stop.

So I left.

I didn't know where to go so I went to the mall. I wandered around for awhile. Ate soup. bought a pair of earrings. I finally ended up in the travel section of the book store fantasizing about all the places I'd rather be.

It occurred to me about an hour before I needed to be at the airport to pick up my husband that I should have gotten that pedicure I am in desperate need of. Or seen a movie.

I have to be honest though. I didn't really enjoy myself. I was super crabby, so I didn't feel like being around other people, and wandering around aimlessly just wasn't as much fun as it sounds.

It was kind of boring. It's kinda like when you have money to buy something, like a dress or shoes, or whatever you might be in the market for, and nothing fits, or is all wrong for whatever reason. But then when you have no money, everywhere you turn is something begging you to buy it cause it's just perfect.

Only instead of a million things to do and no time, somehow I managed to find all the time in the world, and nothing to do.

The soup was good. Baked potato in a bread bowl.

Today wasn't as bad, but I had a couple of moments.

The first was in church. We learned the hard way our family was too big for the smaller pews on the side. There was elbowing, and arguing, and even some screaming from Christopher. I actually smacked his mouth (not hard- just enough to get his attention) in the middle of the sacrament. We finally decided we should return to our usual seats in the back of the church next week and sit in the chairs.

And then there was dinner. There were lots of "When is dinner gonna be ready?" questions, and no "what can I do to help?" They ran around ignoring the fact that I was cleaning up all sorts of messes that they left for me (sticky silverware, used paper plates, spills burnt on to my stove top) in order to even be able to start cooking dinner. (while I grew more and more resentful by the minute) Finally after spending 15 minutes scrubbing the kitchen table that was impressively grody after only a day and a half of neglect (remember I ran away yesterday), and dinner was nearly ready, I had one kid offer to clear off the table and set it. (after I did most of the work)

Of course that's when I lost it.

Within about 30 seconds all three of the older kids had cooperated and set the table, and were watching me and waiting for my head to start spinning around.

John thinks it's PMS. I think that he really missed his family and is so happy to be back in a city where the temps don't go below zero that he will have the patience of a saint for several days. I also think that if you are going to wake your mother up from a much needed nap at 4:30 on a Sunday afternoon to find out when she's going to start dinner, you better be prepared to help. And not leave her standing alone in a kitchen surrounded by every single cup we own (dirty, of course, because heaven forbid you use the same cup twice to drink water) and the remnants from lunch scattered across every available surface. Because then she doesn't feel like a mother who is appreciated and who is succeeding in raising responsible, considerate kids, but that she's just an under appreciated maid and cook.

Or it could be PMS.

I think I might have to take my friend Tricia's advice- she says sometimes rocking back and forth in the fetal position and making weird noises works wonders. But first I am going to eat a lot of chocolate.

Mixed drinks

John and I both have our versions of the classic drink- the screwdriver

Correct me if I am wrong (I'm not an expert when it comes to alcohol) but a "screwdriver" is a drink comprised of vodka and orange juice.

John and I each have our own (non-alcoholic) version of this drink.

Mine was born out of necessity. Have you tried these little packets before?

All sorts of vitamin C, and B vitamins and other good stuff. I try to have one a day. Unless, like today, I think I am coming down with a cold, so I will have a couple more. You pour the contents into a glass (4-6 oz) of water, and drink up. It's not bad, but it's not that good either.

I find it goes down a lot easier if I pour in a splash of orange juice. Unless the packet is the pink lemonade kind, then I like cranberry juice. Just a splash seems to do it. Makes it easier to go down.

John's version is a little more "hard core". The story goes that it was born out of necessity as well. I think he was trying to pull a fast one on his mom when he was a teenager, so he'd add just enough orange juice to a glass of Mountain dew so it would look orangey, and try to pass it off as plain orange juice. (I don't think she was fooled- it was probably 10 parts mountain dew to one part orange juice)

He still does that. Not because I frown on his drinking Diet Mountain Dew, but because he likes it. I just have to look closely to make sure his OJ doesn't have a toxic glow to it before I steal some of his juice.

picture time

"And now for something completely different"

Looking over my blog, I see lots of words. Lots and lots and lots of words, and no pictures.

So here's a little self-deprecating fun-

I think I'm about 8 here. And apparently hot stuff in my purple one piece outfit thingy.

So much so that I posed the exact same in two different pictures. I think my favorite part is the fact that I still thought I was quite the babe with only one shoe and one sock on.

groceries

my new favorite place to buy groceries- Amazon.com

I already use it for nearly everything else.

So when my Wal-mart stopped carrying my favorite flavor of Special K protein meal bars- the honey almond ones (in the diet section, not the cereal aisle) I looked on Amazon. I like them for breakfast. I'm not a big breakfast eater. And I need protein or I feel sick. These are like the perfect little meal. A little more on the pricier side (a dollar a bar) but as a meal replacement not just a snack, it's not so bad if you look at it that way.

Anyway, Wal-mart stopped carrying them, and that was the only place I could find them. I was stuck with the chocolate peanut butter ones, which were okay as far as protein bars go, but that's not saying much.

So on a whim, I checked amazon. And hey! guess what? Amazon carries them. I have to buy a case of 6 boxes, but I get free shipping, and I think I am still coming out ahead if you count gas money and time and all that.

And then tonight (and pay attention mom- you're gonna like this) 3 out of 4 of my kid's favorite Macaroni and cheese is the Cheesy Alfredo kind. We can't find it in Arizona. My poor mother has been known to get down on the floor of grocery store aisles so she can clear out their entire stock of the Cheesy Alfredo mac before she comes down to visit. (as fate would have it, it would always be on the bottom shelf, with some clear in the back so it's quite the ordeal) The older two have learned to ration it, but now that Christopher loves it, he has no concept of the fact that if he eats it all this month, there won't be any to take it's place for quite awhile.

I guess you know where this is going- I checked amazon, and yes, they have it! and I think it's actually cheaper than what my mom was paying at the regular grocery store. (plus free shipping!) So mom, we thank you for your years of devoted service, but I think I shall be able to manage this by myself from now on.

A wanted man

Some how we've been blessed in this economy in that John has pretty good job security. He's got the training, the know-how, the experience...

Also fortunately his company is pretty fiscally sound. It's privately owned by a pretty smart guy (so I hear). So, even if in the crazy off chance that the Earth would open up and swallows his company whole, he's still got plenty of options. Assuming it wasn't one of the few days he was actually in his office. (He actually has a cubicle of his own. It's in St. Louis. He checks on it every so often. Changes the calendar on the wall. That sort of thing.)

In fact, it seems that every where he goes, he's being offered a job of some sort.

Of course we never really consider them. One of the latest was in Washington DC. I know, we are crazy, but John turned down a job to make less money where we would have to live at least an hour or more away just to be able to afford a decent house. (But not comparable to what we live in- that's an expensive town) And pay piles of money to put our kids in private schools so they could have the same standard of education they have here. For free.

And then we've even turned down offers for exponentially more money.

500k + 500k more if he finishes the job.

In other words a million dollars.

Which will take about 18 months.

In Afghanistan. You know, a war zone.

"You're turning down a million dollars!! Are you crazy?!?!" - I've heard that more than once.

It's not so much the money, which is slightly tempting- pay off the house and the car and take the kids on an extended vacation, then chuck the rest into retirement. (not that I've given it much thought)

It's that one little word that gets me- if.

If what?

If he lives? If he doesn't get blown up? If he doesn't run home screaming 6 months into the job?

And why is the salary so high anyway? Because other wives saw the footage of the American contractor several years ago get kidnapped by terrorists, and then get his head chopped off when the government wouldn't meet their demands? I'm fairly certain that image would haunt my nightmares every night for 18 months. Are all the dollar signs supposed to distract me from that?

And 18 months is a long time. Birthdays, Holidays, our 15th anniversary...

Would we even be the same people 18 months from now? I hear all sorts of stories of soldiers coming home completely different people. I realize he wouldn't be fighting, but still.

And the kids- They'd be way different.

What would we be gambling for that money? John's life? Our Marriage?

And I mean no disrespect to those who do serve over there. Who leave behind families of their own. Proudly, for a heck of a lot less money. They have my undying gratitude.

And then there's his latest trip. While in Belgium, one of the guys he would work with, was acting as John's own personal employment agency. Constantly showing him job opportunities.

John finally ended the conversation with- Tell you what- you find me a temporary job for say 2-3 months, during the summer, I'll bring my whole family over, and we'll check it out. See if it's something we want to think about.

The other guy promised to get right on that.

And just FYI- we know this is where we belong. In this house. In this ward. In this state. To really contemplate anything else, just feels so wrong. But this, this is right.

In which I ramble on and on...

So I've been thinking about stuff.

Not life changing stuff, but things have been rattling around in my brain, and I thought that if I just wrote them down, whether anyone is interested in reading it or not, maybe it will stop rattling around in there.

It's worth a shot.

I think we are where we are for a reason. Or Reasons. I'm not sure of all them, but whenever we even think about moving (or try really really hard to move to Europe- even for a year or two) it just never feels right. This is where we belong. For right now anyway. (maybe forever)

Since we've been married we've lived in three different houses, and each time I think that is where we were meant to be for different reasons.

We lived in our first house for four years. It never was home to us. We made no friends, and have not kept in touch even through Christmas cards or facebook or anything. And we're okay with that. -But- that house served it's purpose. It was cheap housing so John and I could get through school. It was close to family so I could have support when I was a brand new mommy. And then it was time to move on. I cried to leave my family and everything I had ever known, but as for our ward/neighborhood, I was all "see ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!" and they were all "don't let the door hit you on the way out!"

It was time to move away and stand on our own. Buy our own house. Learn how to cook. Learn to do things for ourselves, or rely on friends and church members for support and help- like when I was pregnant and on bed rest and the doctors were telling me I should just end that whole pregnancy and start over. So many people were so supportive. Watching my kids so I could go to the 14 billion ultra sound appointments, introducing me to Pride and Prejudice so I could pass the time in bed - back then I watched it on VHS. I mastered the art of caramel making. I learned that painting walls is not scary.

When we were house hunting I saw a bunch of houses and none of them felt right. Then the last morning, our agent said, "I think this one house just went back on the market today, wanna knock on their door and see if they will let us in? (we didn't have an appointment)" The family was home and said yes, and they sat in their living room while we wandered through their home. A little awkward, but I knew instantly it was "THE ONE". I remember feeling I was at home the moment I walked in the door and saw their Proclamation to the World hanging on the wall. I hung mine in the same spot.

The house was small, but that's were I formed some (hopefully) life long friendships- Mindy, Jenn, Gayla, Kawehi. And we grew so much there. Both individually and as a family.

We were really happy there. But, once again, it was time to move on.

So here we are. We looked at lots of homes, one even had a laundry room upstairs, but this is the house that "just felt right". And it still is. John gets job offers to move all over the country and we just laugh. THIS is home.

Anyway. Our friends just left back to the cold, cold North. We're always sad to see them go, and I am sure other people are too, because each and every time they come down here, they always seem to be pulled in so many directions. Fortunately we have a guest room and a kid friendly house so they stay with us.

But then I got to thinking about the "why's" of it all. Why is it that we don't see our other friends, our friends who live in the same little town, unless the Brooksby's come to visit? I KNOW every one has good intentions (at least I choose to believe that when they say "we should get together more often" they actually mean it, and aren't just being polite) because I have good intentions. There's just that whole Life factor, and that Out of Sight, Out of Mind thing. But since we only have the opportunity to see Mindy once a year or so, (unless we go up there) everyone clears their schedules because who knows when the opportunity will come again?

Anyway, I spend a good deal of energy trying to get them to move back down here. Only the thought occurred to me that they would have to move into my neighborhood. (that would be the ideal in any case) but if they didn't, what are the odds that we wouldn't be as good of friends if they only lived a mile or two away? When LIFE and Out of Sight gets in the way? The one thing in my favor is that she is an organizer- and not just in every day matters, but that she likes to get people together- play games, go to the park, go out to eat... and Nolan and John love to golf with each other, so they'd at least see each other, well, when John is in town, and Nolan's crazy schedule allows.

Also, I have a lot of amazing friends now in this ward and neighborhood, and while we don't plan on moving any time soon, but I kinda have to stop and wonder, if I moved even two miles away, would they still be my friends? And not in a "Hey! imagine bumping into you here! So, how's it been? The kids all healthy?" kind of way. But in a regular Girl's Night Out/let's meet for lunch or see a movie kind of way. I mean, there are women I love spending time with, and for whatever reason friendships seem to be put on the back burner the moment we don't attend the same church meetings at the same time.

After all this- I've come to a conclusion- (there's probably more I could learn from this, but I'm taking baby steps here)

I need to work on cultivating relationships now. I have no one to blame but myself if Life and/or Out of Sight get in the way.

Maybe that will be my New Years resolution for the year. I've avoided it until now, because I generally fall flat on my face (Lose 60 pounds! Get organized! Potty train Christopher!) but I think that is one I can do.

And not just my relationships with my friends- but others as well- John, my kids, My Savior, my Father in Heaven.

I'd worry about the accountability factor of writing something down and publishing it to the internet, but as this was a rather long and wordy and pictureless post, I'm not too worried anybody really read the whole thing.

But- hey if you did, and you want to help a girl out, call me up! invite me to lunch! Or a movie, or a game night or just go for a walk. Or if you are my husband- take me on trips with you to exciting places!

Busy

We have friends in town.

We've been busy.

Shopping, eating out, playing at the park, more shopping, more eating out, bowling, and just hanging out while the kids play. (John told Mindy to make sure I bought some stuff for me. I kinda really, really hate shopping for myself, so I was in pretty desperate need of clothes.- hence all the shopping, well that and Mindy lives in a town where the nearest mall is a good three hours away.)

Also, the sad fact is that Mindy and her family are what keep us in contact with many of our other friends. Friends we forget how much we enjoy seeing until Mindy comes back in town and organizes stuff. We have all these friends living only a few miles away that somehow we only manage to see when Mindy is in town. How sad is that? We were all in the same ward (church) together, and all went our separate ways, and now the joke (a totally overly used joke, but still sadly true) is "See ya next time the Brooksby's are in town!"

And although I have had at least one (sometimes two) cameras in my pocket, I haven't bothered to take any pictures. Must be too busy yakking to stop and "capture the moment".

I take that back.

I had Mindy take one picture of my hair so I could text it to John. (He's in Belgium) She gave me this super snazzy curling wand thingy and did my hair for me on Sunday, and I think I got more compliments and "how did you do that?!?"'s than I have in a very, very long time. This picture is the next day- over 24 hours later. With absolutely zero product in my hair.

We've also been selling girl scout cookies.

Is she not the prettiest girl scout ever? FYI- Mindy also curled her hair.

Now while the "prizes" are absolutely worthless and totally ridiculous, (I think she's earned a really ugly bandanna so far) Madison is still pretty motivated. She just likes selling cookies. I think she envisions her self bringing joy to the masses in the form of limited-time-only boxes of fats and carbs. She was the troop top seller last year, and was pretty proud of herself. (The good kind of pride- "I worked hard. I earned this!" )

So if anyone is interested- cookies are $4 a box, and this year there are only six kinds - Thin mints, Samoas, Trefoils, Do-si-dos, Tangalongs, and Lemon Chalet Cremes.

My favoritest ever dress-up dress

It was pink. and bumpy. I don't know material gets bumpy but it had little bumpy dots all over it. I LOVED that dress. (PS- don't you love how my little brother and I have matching shoes?)

Snow. and another stroll down memory lane.

I heard it snowed in 49 out of the 50 states today. Florida was the only holdout. Yes, even Hawaii got some snow.

It didn't snow here in Phoenix though.

Personally, I thought it was a nice day. When Christopher left for school right before noon, I didn't even feel the need to send a jacket with him. I thought he'd be fine in his shorts and t-shirt.

However, I do feel the need to share some snowy pictures from that file my dad gave me. Just for fun.

These pictures were taken right after my parents moved into that house. Over 30 years ago. (they still live there)

They were some of the very first people to move into that subdivision. My mom told me they would just "off road it" through the neighborhood back then since there were few other homes, and no landscaping, sidewalks or curbs to speak of. My dad said there was pavement on the actual streets, but with the ground all frozen over anyway, it didn't make that much of a difference.

That house is the only house I ever remember growing up in. I was (mom-feel free to call and correct me if I'm wrong) almost three when we moved there.

Before that, there was this house. My parent's first house. See my mom? She's very pregnant in that picture. With me.

My parents still own that house too, believe it or not. They sold it to my dad's parents, who rented it to my mom's mom for several years before she bought her own house, and then it went through several other renters, and when my grandparents passed away, my dad inherited it back, and kicked out the other renters (they needed to go- I heard all sorts of crazy stories from the neighbors- everything from attempted armed robbery, drug dealing, and an illegal tattoo parlor in the garage) so, my dad kicked out those renters, fixed the place up and let John and I live there for several years. Currently, my two youngest brothers are living there and remodeling the place. They're doing a fantastic job. I would have cried to have a kitchen like that when I lived there. (the second time. I could have cared less about the lack of pantry or dishwasher the first time. )

a good reminder.

I spent the day scrubbing walls. I'm no where near done. Is it just me, or do other people have the same problem I have, where you don't notice how grody your walls are, and then bam! one day you do? And every where you turn are dirty, crusty, grungy doors, door frames, and walls.

I don't know if it's because many days all I see is the junk- the toys, the paper piles, the dishes, the laundry, and so the fingerprints, and the smudges, and the grime is camoflaged?

Anyways, I was feeling annoyed, and overwhelmed, and disgusted, and when I get like that I've try to remember to ask myself- "I don't have to, I get to, because what is the alternative?"

On my friend Rachel's blog, she has shared several times about another blog that she really likes- Clover Lane. (it's on my side bar over there -> )

I would check it out several times, and truthfully it would annoy me. It all seemed too perfect. She was perfect. She took perfect pictures, kept a perfectly clean house, is a perfect mom, has a perfect life. gag. you get the idea. And the last thing I want or need is another reminder of all the areas I seem to fall short. (I'm fairly certain her walls must repel dirty hand prints)

But every so often I would give the blog another chance. When I was bored. Or more likely procrastinating doing something like scrubbing my walls. And then one day she posted this- (click here!) (it's worth checking out)

This post was a good reminder as well.

Anyway, her blog doesn't annoy me anymore. I'm not sure why, probably some kind of change in my own attitude, but nevertheless, go check out those posts especially if you have young kids who like to wipe their sticky little hands on your walls. (and everywhere else for that matter)

Enough procrastination. I still have dirty walls to clean. (I'm thinking painting my whole house might just be easier)

Getting my geek on

My friend Brenda called me on Saturday and invited me to a comic book convention. Not the super-cool one in California, but the "Amazing Arizona Comic Con" or something like that. I decided to believe that she invited me because she thought I, like her, would be amused by the whole thing, and not because she thought I was the type of person who frequented these types of things.

Cause I'm not.

This was my first time. Honest.

Although it was pretty dang amusing. And I could probably be persuaded to go again.

There were quite a few comic-con type stereotypical people there. And I LOVE stereotypes.

People dressed up in Star Wars, or Super Hero costumes.

There was a panel discussion about a sci-fi zombie tv show- The Walking Dead (I think) with the writer and some actors, and people could ask questions ("What do you like to collect?")

So the overall theme seemed to be zombies. There were a lot of zombies running around. There were even a couple of zombie girls on the end of dog catcher poles being led around by official looking zombie catchers, and the girls were snarling and snapping at each other and innocent bystanders (especially other zombies that happened to be milling about checking out the comic books and dolls collectible action figures. "It's not a doll!")

Yes, I know, I am admitting what a judgmental person I am, and it is wrong to make fun of other people, (never to their faces- as if that makes me a better person) and in many cases it is a serious case of "the pot calling the kettle black"- for instance, it's no secret that I struggle with my own weight issues, so I should be more sensitive to others, however, I still can't help but giggle internally when I see a very overweight girl dressed up like a fairy. Imagine me, with 50 more pounds, in a blue leotard, and tiny blue wings on my back, running around in public.

So to answer any questions anybody might have- No, I did not stand in the ridiculously long line to get an autograph from actors I've never heard of that star in a show I've never heard of, I am not the proud new owner of any action figures or comic books, vintage and rare or otherwise. In my attempt to blend in I did wear a Gryffindor t-shirt, but I still don't think I really fit in. I am however, now the proud new owner of a bootleg copy of the Broadway musical Wicked.

Guy pawning the probably not-so-legal DVD's- "That's the New York Cast"

Me- "Original Broadway cast, or another cast?"

Guy- "Uh..."

Me- "Who is starring in it? Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth?"

Guy- "Uh????"

(It was another cast. I bought it anyway. Madison is obsessed with the music, and she loves to watch youtube clips from the show. I figured this was a little better.)

Also a "visitor" ID badge to the Jeffersonian Institute- Where Dr. Brennan works in my fave TV show -Bones. (and Seeley Booth's and Chuck Bartowski's ID badges- I couldn't resist)

(Admit it- some of you are silently, or not so silently, laughing at and/or judging me now. Ü)

what I do miss-

It's been 17 years and 28 days. exactly.

I don't miss this either-

(driving in the snow- and the ice, and the sleet...)

what I don't miss about Utah

(shoveling snow and scraping windshields!)

Note to self: turn off stove before leaving house.

The other night, and by "the other night", I mean a few weeks ago, we got a knock at our door. It was the fire department. They were wondering if we knew the people across the street. Namely, they wanted to know if we knew how to get a hold of them (their cell phone numbers) or knew anyone who did.

Nope and nope.

I've waved to them in passing. And I know they have a kid, and they're Asian. But other than that...

Anyway, apparently the story goes that their stove was left on when they left the house and it caught on fire, and the fire department showed up and had to knock down their door to put it out, and there were 2 fire trucks and a police car out front for awhile, and nobody knew how to get a hold of the family.

And so I got to thinking, "What if that were us? What if it were my stove I left on, and after a lovely evening out, we return home to find a police officer in front of our house (the fire crew finally left when they determined the house was safe) to give us the bad news about our house cause none of our neighbors knew how to get a hold of us?

There are several people in our neighborhood who do have our cell phone numbers, but they all have one thing in common- they don't live on our street.

I remedied that situation the next day. I marched next door and insisted on exchanging cell phone numbers. (We've long since known each other's home numbers)

The one other positive thing to come out of this, besides the realization that I need to get to know my neighbors better even if most of them are renters and have no kids my kid's ages, is that my kids are now official jr. firefighters. After hanging out all evening outside watching all the excitement (or lack thereof) one of the firemen gave my kids all "jr firefighter" stickers for helping them keep an eye on things (from a safe distance in our driveway).

the shoe chooses you

Nick and I both needed new gym shoes. Besides being too small for him, and full of holes, they have no arch support whatsoever and it seems that his arches are collapsing. Time for new school shoes. Up until now I've gotten away with spending $30 or less on his shoes, but that probably explains why they are falling apart and his feet hurt.

And I needed new shoes cause I lost mine. I know, you're thinking, "How does a grown woman lose her shoes? Didn't you grow out of that when you were like six?" And yes, I am still guilty of taking them off and just leaving them wherever I happen to be, but they are really, really lost this time. Like I think they accidentally got shipped off to Goodwill with the last giant carload of stuff when we cleaned out the closets.

Anyways, there's that scene in the first Harry Potter book when Harry first steps into Ollivander's wand shop, and the magical tape starts measuring him, and Ollivander grabs a box with a wand in it, and has Harry try it, and they go through several magical wands until they find just the right one, because you don't choose the wand, the wand chooses you.

I felt kinda like that today. In a regular shoe store you go in, narrow down what kind of shoe you want by what you are going to be doing in it (running, walking, etc), pick out a shoe that catches your eye, then send the underpaid worker bee back to get your shoe. You make all the decisions.
Unless of course you go to Run AZ, and there the shoe chooses you. (I usually steer clear of product endorsement kind of posts, unless of course it's a book or movie or music or food or something I really love or I can relate it to a book or movie or music or food- like in this case both a book and a movie.)

So you walk in and although they have a wall of shoes, you don't get to pick. Instead of an old wizard, a young athletic-type worker-bee asks you what you will be doing in the shoes (running, walking, etc) and what size you think you are, then you have to roll up your pants and walk around in your socks so they can watch you walk. Then they scurry on to the back room and bring you a pair. "Try it out. Let me watch you run. Nope. Not those. Try these. Not those either. Hmmmm. What about these? Now run with a different one on each foot." They watch you walk, and watch you run, and ask questions until they narrow down the perfect pair. Color, name brand, and price don't even get mentioned. I chuckled to myself as a girl got matched up with a really ugly pair of shoes. "Don't they come in a cuter color?!?!" Nope. They were florescent green. Fortunately both Nick's and my feet seem to like reasonably priced (and in my case -cute) shoes.

Now I have no more excuses. Caramel-palooza is behind me, and I have new shoes, time to get my sorry-I-gained-all-my-weight-back-butt back in gear.

New Years

My parents arrived the Wednesday before. They were making the rounds. Christmas they spent in Utah with my youngest brothers, then they headed to New Mexico to see my other brother and his family, and then we were the last stop on their agenda.

We spent our time shopping, cooking, eating, playing games, and watching movies. You know, the usual. My dad helped John with some storage racks in the garage, and sticking a basketball hoop in the ground.

Also at midnight on New Year's we lit off some fireworks in the street. This was the first time since we've lived in Arizona that fireworks have been legal. I think New Year's Eve in Arizona is perfect for fireworks. It was still pretty cold, but it's not like we had to clear away the snow or anything. And once the sun goes down in July it's not as miserable, but it's still 100 degrees out.

We wore my parents out.

They left bright and early this morning to get home.

We all got up to see them off. And by "got up", I mean made our way down the stairs in a semi- conscious state.

Maddie cried as usual. She's a sensitive little thing.

a picture a day

no promises. but i'll try. and I may or may not offer any kind of story or explanation.