Preschool

So I'm a bit behind in the blogging, and now stories and events in our lives have gotten majorly backlogged. I feel like we went from not a whole lot going on to everything is going on in the span of a couple weeks. I was overwhelmed with how many things I've been wanting to blog about, and didn't know where to begin. And then, the wise words of Fraulein Maria to the Von Trapp children entered my brain and I realized, Duh. Let's start at the very beginning. A very good place to start.

So we'll start with a whopping two weeks ago, a.k.a. Ben's first week of Preschool! This has been a landmark 4 years and 4 months in the making, and I cannot tell you the joy that the separation of 4 hours, twice a week has brought to my relationship with my boy. We actually have time now to miss each other, time to look forward to spending together. He wants to cuddle more than ever before, wants me to hold him on my lap after dinner and hug and kiss him. It's like he just realized that I'm not just the chef & housekeeper around here. I'm a mom with squishy parts that are probably really great to cuddle up to. Sometimes I wish I could cuddle up with me, too.

However, don't let all this cuddling fool you. This child did not show one second of sadness or separation anxiety when the big day arrived. Just because he's all lovey dovey on his days off does NOT mean he isn't enjoying preschool every second that he's there. The pictures from his first day of school depict this perfectly. Who IS this overly confident, Mr. Too Cool For School extrovert?

(Are you kidding me? The thumbs up and the squinted cool-boy eyes? Did I mention that he insisted on posing before I snapped any of these photos?)

Nope. No lack of confidence issues going on here.

Sissy never likes to miss a great photo op.

In front of the preschool, which just so happens to be the cutest little red chapel building you've ever seen. And yes, there's even a white picket fence around it.

In the classroom, ready to play with the tools. It's a shame he's so introverted and holding back his first day, don't you think?

And in closing, I leave you with the mother of all photos. There is so much to love about this picture, but let me point out my favorite's: 1) Ben. It's probably hard to recognize him, because clearly he's been transformed into a superhero with his new-found superhero cape, and his new best friend, Maizie. Maizie is awesome because she's always willing to play superhero games AND cars. This is obviously a match made in heaven. 2) Ella, my little mini-me multi-tasking wanna-be Mama. I love her. And at just under 2 years old, I am very impressed by her abilities to hold a conversation on the phone and keep her baby happy. She screams EVERY SINGLE TIME we have to leave preschool and doesn't get to stay. 3) Since it was his first day, Ben is wearing a name tag so his teachers could learn the new students names quickly. HE IS NOT THE ONLY BEN IN THE CLASS! I was shocked and slightly taken aback. We've never met another little boy named Ben! We've met grown-up Bens and have seen celebrity Bens on movies, but never another real life little boy Ben. According to his teachers, I needn't worry; he's already made quite a name for himself around there.

Caliente

The other day Dan received a gift at work. This is not completely out of the ordinary, as people generally enjoy giving teachers gifts every now and then. Usually there's a card attached expressing something to the effect of "sorry you get paid so terribly, thanks for all you do". It's awesome. We love it, and it only validates our choice to continue having Dan stay in the education field. And while we're here, might I make mention of those Starbucks gift cards that are thrown our way every now & again? GOLD MINE! Am I right, fellow teachers or teachers' wives? I'm telling you, it's the ultimate pick-me-up perk. And yes, I'm usually the one who ends up with those gift cards. What can I say? My man loves me. All the way to Starbucks.

But yesterday, this is what Dan received:

Some fairly authentic looking spicy peppers. 

Apparently the word got around his campus that his wife has a thing for spicy foods. And it's true, I do occasionally declare "MAS CALIENTE!" from the stove when I'm feeling extra saucy. Except nowadays I cook for two kidlets who aren't the biggest fans of spice, so I rarely indulge. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled with this gift, and I want to use them wisely. But what are they exactly, and what am I supposed to do with them? And should I mention that Ben thought the green ones were green beans, and was caught milli-seconds before taking a giant bite through one? No, I probably shouldn't mention it because I'm certain we would've ended up in the E.R. And the doctors would have asked me what type of pepper he bit into, and I would have no idea. And eyebrows would have been raised suspiciously.

So, cyber-world. What do I do with them? (And seriously, what are they?) And just so you know, I'm extra interested if the suggestions involve cheese.

Those Were The Days

This morning I got a good laugh while recalling the youthful days of 11 years ago, when I would secretly anticipate- dare I say wish- to get carded. I would proudly whip out my legitimate photo ID, displaying a young, freshly legal 21 year old who could buy any bottle of alcohol desired. Finally! A real ID! I was of legal age! It took 21 long, agonizing years, but I had arrived, and I was most likely buying cheap wine to celebrate.

Fast forward to today, just days before my 32nd birthday, and not much has changed. I still like to buy wine, especially if it's cheap and delicious (Trader Joe's Coastal, at $3.99/bottle, you never disappoint). I like to spare the cashier the awkwardness of having to ask, so I still get excited to whip out my photo ID and have it ready before even prompted. The only difference now is...9 times out of 10, the cashier usually responds with, "Oh, that's ok, sweetie. I don't need to see that." ROUGH TRANSLATION: Let's face it lady, you are obviously over 21. Just put the card away nice & easy, and stop the wishful thinking. And perhaps it's time you rethink your moisturizer routine. And while we're at it, is that an entire patch of gray hair growing on the side of your head?

So today when the grocery checker asked me if I remembered a certain character's name from the 1970s hit show, "The Waltons" I may have accidentally used an "outside voice" to announce the fact that I wasn't even born when that show was a raging hit. And when he raised his eyebrows in utter shock and said in his "outside voice", "REALLY?", I might have thrown my pork tenderloin at his forehead. (Just kidding, you know me; I would never ruin a perfectly good pork tenderloin.)

The Best Age...Really

I'm sure I've said this to myself with the turn of every month, but Ella really is the best age right now. At 21 months old, she is bursting at the seams with personality, smiles, mostly coherent words, deep belly laughs, love for her baby dolls, obsession with shoes & her daddy. As much as I loved (and admittedly, slightly miss) the major milestone months of baby tricks such as crawling, walking & talking, the tricks that Ella can perform now are so much more exciting and meaningful to me. She can pucker her lips for a kiss. She can listen and follow through with 2-step directions. She can put her shoes on & off (and on & off, and on & off). She runs to her Mimi & Papa and screams their names when we arrive to their house. She asks me to lie down so that we can cuddle together. She loves getting her toenails painted. She apologizes to me when she accidentally hurts me or frustrates me. But tonight she showed off a new trick just moments before I laid her in her crib for bedtime. She spotted the moon outside her window, and wide eyed and full of giddy squeals, she blew it kisses goodnight.

There is such a rich abundance of 4 year old testosterone filling the house right now that demands so much of my attention and energy. As wonderful as that is (and by wonderful, I mean exhausting), it feels terrific to have a girl that I can throw a tutu on, and whose hair is the perfect length for pig tails and flower clips.

A Cliff's Notes Guide: Gender Roles

This (early) morning while I was having "cozy time" in bed with the kids, Ben, who must have had some serious ants in his pants, kept "accidentally" kicking or bonking me in the gut. Ella & I were perfectly still, lying cuddled up close, and this crazy person next to us was somewhat ruining the moment. I was doing my best to handle the situation with patience, but he should really know better then to mess with his mother before she's had her first cup of coffee. First, I thought I could simply scare him off with my less-than-fresh morning breath. After that failed, I asked him to please stop wiggling around so much or he'd have to leave the warm cocoon of my bed, and this is what went down:

Ben: Well, Mama, did you know that I can't really sit still right now because girls just really like to be loving. But boys really like to be brave. So you & Sissy have to be loving, but I'm being brave right now.

Me: Um, okay. But Ben, girls aren't the only ones who like to be loving. Boys like to be loving, too.

Ben: Well..... sometimes they like to be loving. But FIRST they like to be brave, and THEN they can be loving. Because that's the truth about boys.

If you've never read John Gray's best-seller Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, don't bother. Ben just did you a favor and summed it all up for you. And yes, for those interested, he'll be available to provide couples counseling for a nominal fee.

Grief

I've been laying low the past few days, sorting out some events that have recently taken place in our lives. One of Dan's colleagues- a wonderful, loving, and sweet man who has done nothing greater in his role as vice-principal than support Dan beautifully- just lost his 21 year old son in a small private plane crash last Friday. When a tragedy of such magnitude hits this close to home, it's difficult to get through the day without feeling incredibly selfish. So, I got stuck in traffic for 20 minutes. So what? I have a 4 year old who is driving me nuts. So what? It's the reason I haven't even dared blog in a week, because suddenly I've gained a whole new level of perspective. When someone you know and love is enduring the most painful moment in their life, somehow it just feels wrong that our lives get to continue, and that such trivial everyday events continue to unfold.

Right now I'm just completely overwhelmed at the juxtaposition of life and death; this family, mourning the loss of their precious son, a fact I am reminded of 1,000 times a day with every moment I get to spend with my children, and with every new memory we are lucky enough to create. Now that I'm a parent, the thought of losing a child takes my breath away. The possibility alone stings my heart. I cannot fathom anything more painful, and I'm left feeling helpless and unsure of how we can support their family in this time of tremendous grief. I find that I'm putting myself in their position multiple times throughout the day, asking, "What would I want from friends & family? How would I want to be comforted?" And so, I've made them a loaf of homemade bread, which will be hand delivered by Dan this afternoon. He'll go to their house to sit with them, to perhaps cry with them, to just be with them. That's the thing about grief- it strips us down to the fragile, vulnerable core, and bonds humans together in a way unlike any other. All we can do now is pray, and let our flood gates of love open wide. I know they'll be taking baby steps towards finding peace. As for today, I just pray for an ample dose of hope.

"Earth hath no sorrow that heaven cannot heal."

-Thomas Moore

Social Graces

Now that Ben is a little over 4 years old, we're entering a new phase in our parenting where we are forced to teach him some basic social graces. (Insert weary sigh of fatigue). The kid has the vocabulary and annunciation skills of a 10 year old, so when he says something to a stranger (or even worse, a non-stranger) that makes Dan & I blush and laugh nervously, chances are he was understood and heard on the receiving end, loud and clear. When you couple his innocent 4 year old curiosity with his extroverted social personality, things come out of his mouth that either make me laugh or break out in a sweat. Sometimes, it's both.

A few weeks ago, we went as a family to our favorite park in the late afternoon. We got to talking with a man who was there walking his dog, a friendly though fairly rough-around-the-edges kind of guy, probably in his late 50s. (We'll call him George). Ben was off in the distance playing in the sandbox when he looked up and realized that there was some form of socialization going on without him, so he came barreling over to join the conversation, and relentlessly show off his Spiderman-like moves, muscles, and sound effects. This is usually the time in the conversation where I would introduce Ben to the 3rd party stranger (i.e. George), trying desperately to model good etiquette. But lately, I'm just trying to show Ben that there are ways of interacting and impressing a stranger other than shooting phantom "webs" at them or insisting that they feel his giant Spiderman biceps. (You might think I'm joking; I'm not).

However, right after George was finished talking about his own personal system for graffiti control at the park, I introduced Ben to this new stranger. After an enthusiastic hello Ben immediately declared something along the lines of,

"Hey, my Dad is way bigger than you."

Dan & I both laughed- because it really was funny, especially considering this was not a small man we were talking to. On the contrary, I'm pretty sure he was bigger than Dan & I put together. But then, trying to segue from a statement like that is nearly impossible. There is no good response deemed appropriate for a situation like that one. So aside from laughing nervously and feeling more awkward than a girl at a junior-high dance, what did I do? What did the Mother and Teacher of social etiquette say to her son?

"Hey Ben, did you want to show him your awesome Spiderman muscles?"

Camping, Revisited

Alright, let's be honest. Nobody thought I'd EVER get around to this post, right? Even I am filled with more self-loathing than ever before. Shame on me for taking two months to write about this major life event! I mean, this alleged "camping trip"was practically a whole lifetime ago, and it's not exactly fresh on my brain now. It's like the meat you see in the grocery store that has a special fluorescent orange discount sticker on it because of its rapidly changing color and interesting smell. (Which makes me wonder, who buys that meat? Here's what I say: if I'm in a position where I don't have enough money to buy fresh, un-rotten meat, then I vote going without. But that's just me.) Anyway, that's my brain when it comes to this little trip. Once I lost the original camping posting due to some freak computer glitch, I sort of lost the will to blog about it ever again, but I feel I owe it to my kids to have it properly documented for their sake. Otherwise, they may never believe that it actually happened. Nothing like a little crazy Mom guilt to light a fire under my ass. 

Alright, buckle up! Here we go:

Here, we have a very handsome & robust Dan, modeling his camping backpack from the days of his camping bachelorhood (he's a man of SO many talents, that husband of mine). He was very excited to show me how much crap this thing could actually contain. If you look below his elbow closely, you can see that there's even a compartment for toilet paper. Such a smart backpack! Camping learned lesson #1: it's really helpful when you go camping with a husband who is so giddy to be reunited with nature, he'll even pose for backpack pictures.

I realize my awesome photography skills didn't capture much else but glare in this photo, but if you strain to look through that, you will see our very jam-packed car. Camping learned lesson #2: Camping with children requires a whole lot of stuff. What you see in this car is basically everything we own. I was nervous I'd forget SOMEthing and then be miserable for 48 hours, but in reality, I don't think we utilized half of what we brought. Rookies!

Here the kids are strapped in & ready to roll, but not unlike dogs, could probably sense Mama's tense nerves and were probably experiencing a tummy butterfly or two themselves. On second thought, maybe they were just scared things were going to crush them, because please notice the mountain of cargo behind them.

Here, Ella is like, "You guys are crazy and make me want to jump out of this dang car seat, but you do always feed me, so therefore I'll stick around and surrender to this chaos." For a baby under 2, she really is wise beyond her years. Also, aren't her rag-a-muffin pigtails the cutest you've ever seen?

Here, Ben is like, "Doesn't this blue shirt bring out my gorgeous blue eyes? Also, are we there yet? WHY DOES IT LOOK LIKE WE'RE STILL PARKED IN THE GARAGE?"

So fast forward the fairly uneventful 60+ minute car ride up to Big Basin, and now we've arrived. Except timing wasn't our greatest strength that day because we didn't have much daylight left, and I won't lie; there was some panic as the fellas set up camp. The realization of- wait, there are zero light switches we get to flip when it gets dark- slowly set in. Nobody wants to set up a (ginormous) tent in the darkness. So the boys huddled up, devised a plan, and got to work. My Dan is on the left, our dear friend (the "other" Dan) is on the right. Please notice his kneepads- this is serious camping business. 

They saved the day! Tent assembled! Number of injuries: 0. Sounds like the perfect time to open a bottle of wine! 

Isn't it breathtakingly gorgeous? Those giant wonderful trees! The delicious fresh air! Even the dirt was sort of pretty. Side note: our Mercedes-of-a-tent came fully loaded with a "front porch" area. I was sort of hoping it would be equipped with electricity as well, but I guess we had an older model.

This is Ben's semi-new favorite person in his world, and his name is Gavin. If you met him, you would want to hug him and squeeze his cheeks because he is hands-down one of the sweetest little boys on earth and has the voice of an angel. He's one of those kids who I'm hoping will forever infect Ben with his sweet, innocent boyishness. I love when they spend time together, and basically, camping was one big Ben & Gavin fest. I've never seen two boys so happy to be together, and so happy to be downright dirty.

Ben, being a scary jungle animal of sorts. And sweet Gavin- even when he's trying to be scary he's just exudes cuteness.

So remember how one of my big camping concerns was what the heck to do all day long (specifically, #6 on my top 10 list)? This was it! We sat and  learned to play a new favorite game, Mexican Train. I don't even play dominoes in any form, but this was great. Then of course, there was some beer drinking.

Then we went on a big group hike, which was lovely....until Ben's legs got too tired to keep moving. Then it got tricky. Learned camping lesson #3 : 4 miles is about 2 miles too many for a 4 year old hiker who hasn't napped. But it was gorgeous, and I got in touch with my inner hiker. She's a tigress!

Ben was thrilled to find a real-life fuzzy caterpillar:

Ella was thrilled to learn that Auntie Liz was willing to carry her a heck of a lot more than Mommy was willing. So they had some quality girl time so that Mommy could continue in Operation Laziness, and drink her beer in peace.

More friendly camping nothingness. Camping learned lesson #4: doing nothing and sitting outside is wonderful.

Here we are on our 2nd (and final) night, preparing a feast fit for a king. You might think I'm joking, but just wait for it...

Well hello perfectly marbled, gorgeous salmon! You're so cute with your pretty lemon slices-- but wait! What's this I see? Are you stuffed on the inside?!

Why yes, you are! What on earth did I do to deserve this royal treatment???? Guys, it was like manna pouring down from the heavens. Being the sushi junkie that I am, I had to stop my hand from picking it up and just eating it raw. Can you blame me?

And all I had to do was provide a black bean salad! (Don't get me wrong- the black bean salad was rad....anytime a recipe includes onion, mango & cilantro on the ingredient list, you KNOW it's going to be scrumptious. I don't even think this is a matter of opinion- it just is). The salmon (a.k.a. manna) was provided and prepared courtesy of our new friends, Rikki & Jack. (Hi Rikki & Jack! Want to go camping again?) Here is where I will mention that Jack is a real life chef...how could I NOT fall in love with camping??? Camping learned lesson #5 : Always go camping with a chef. Here they are, our Salmon Sugar-Parents:

Here's the full spread. Not too shabby for a camping trip, eh? If I was to caption this picture, it would say: Melon salad, veggies and bread, beautiful manna-salmon, three bean salad. AND WINE. Yes, as I recall, the wine was deeeeelightful. We even set up a separate table designated as "The Bar". 

This is the part of the evening when our bellies were full of salmon and wine, so we just smiled and took a bunch of photos. Here: the Findricks & Stublers

Me, Christina & Rikki. Don't you dare look at my camping greasiness!

Dewigs (minus Ben- where did Ben go? Oh right- to Gavin-land) + Findricks:

The night ended as any quintessential camping trip night should: with s'mores (Ben's 1st, my 1,001st)).... 

...And with glow stick swords! (Thanks for this picture, Kasia!)

Overall, what do I think about camping? Let me put it this way: my birthday is coming up in a month, and I'm thinking a camping trip might be in order.I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship...

Fabulous Fries & Perfect Plum Crisp

    Image by bro0ke via Flickr

Who loves french fries and fruit crisps in the Summer? Or...any season of the year?
If you could see me, you'd see me raising both of my arms wildly in the air. Because in my little world, I can't really think of anything better than a juicy bbq'd burger, homemade oven fries, a gorgeous green salad, and a plum oatmeal crisp for dessert.

In fact, that's what just went down in this house. Not too shabby for a Wednesday, eh? (BTW, in case you were curious, Canadians really do end most sentences with "eh?". I'm no expert on the Canadian culture, but I have been there four times- count it- 1,2,3,4- and with each visit I heard at least 5 people use the cute little "eh?" at the end of their sentence. All I'm saying is, why haven't we considered stealing that, and how did they become the nicest people on the planet?). Also, you should probably know that my burger was smothered in spicy roasted green chiles, in honor of our recent trip to Albuquerque, the mecca for all things green chile!

Anyway, I was flipping through my July issue of Food & Wine magazine (which I adore but never have time to read), and I came upon this fantastic recipe for homemade oven fries, which then quickly inspired my whole bbq burger meal into being. And since I haven't posted any recipes in practically FOREVA (who's been wondering: what's up with that? I thought there was supposed to be some passionate food talk on this here blog!) and since I could never deny you anything this delicious, let me go ahead and share them both with you. Mama loves you.


Fabulous Oven Fries w/ Herbs & Pecorino
(adapted from Grace Parisi, via Food & Wine Magazine, July 2010)


2 large baking potatoes, cut into 4-by-1/2 in. sticks
1/4 c. extra-virgin olive oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp. each of minced sage & rosemary OR if you don't have these dried herbs on hand (like me) then you can get in the French spirit and substitute 1 tsp. of Herbes de Provence
1/4 c. freshly grated pecorino romano or parmesan cheese
Salt & freshly ground pepper to taste

1. Preheat oven to 425. In a large bowl, toss the potato sticks with the olive oil until evenly coated. Spread the potato sticks in a rimmed baking sheet in a single layer and bake in upper third of the oven, turning once or twice with a spatula, until they are gold and crispy, about 30 minutes.
2. Sprinkle the minced garlic and herbs over the fries and toss well. Amazing smells are about to come wafting from your oven! Roast for about 5 minutes longer, or until the herbs are fragrant and the garlic is lightly browned. Transfer the fries to a large bowl and toss with the grated cheese. Season with salt & pepper and serve. Serves 4. (or in our case, serves two really hungry adults & 1 child).

Plum Oatmeal Crisp
(adapted from Everyday Food Magazine)


1/2 c. plus 1 T. all-purpose flour
1 c. plus 2 T. packed brown sugar
2/3 c. old-fashioned rolled oats (not quick cooking)
1/4 c. toasted pecans, chopped
1/4 teaspoon salt
Dash or two of pumpkin pie spice (optional, but recommended!)
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted
2-1/2 lbs. ripe plums, cut into 1-inch pieces (so, obviously, you can substitute or combine any of your favorite pitted fruits; for example, I did a plum/peach combo and it was heavenly. Apricots would be equally delicious!)

Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Topping: In a medium bowl, stir together 1/2 c. flour, 1 c. brown sugar, oats, toasted pecans and salt. Pour melted butter over mixture and stir to combine & moisten the other ingredients. This is when things start to get very tasty.
2. In a shallow 2-qt. baking dish, toss plums with remaining 2 T. of brown sugar, 1 T. flour, and couple dashes of pumpkin pie spice, if using. Sprinkle with oat/pecan/butter yumminess crumble topping. Place dish on a rimmed baking sheet (perhaps overly-cautious, but an effort to prevent overflow burn, because no one wants that). Bake until topping is golden brown, 40-45 minutes. Let cool 20 minutes before serving, but I'll bet you can't wait that long to taste it because the smell wafting through your kitchen will put you in a love-sick trance. Serves 6. Enjoy!

I'm a Quilter!

I realize there are more pressing matters that deserve my undivided blogging attention (namely that camping trip that I SWEAR I really did take, as well as that 2,000 mile road trip to New Mexico we just recovered from), but I felt it necessary to announce something that is rare, and therefore something I am quite proud of: I finished a project! A quilting project! I can quilt! I'm a quilter!

Please feel free to now douse me with gold stars and smiley face stickers, because one thing that is NOT a strength of mine is the ability to finish something once I start it. Just ask my husband (or parents or friends...), I'm sure he has a hidden notepad somewhere entirely devoted to keeping record of the projects/ideas/rooms to be painted that I never actually completed. I probably make the highly organized, "type A" sorts of people break out in nervous, aggravation-induced hives while in my company. It's my gift.

But I digress.

Remember when I first began this adventure, just about 6 months ago? Well, I learned many things back then. Namely, quilting is a very difficult task in and of itself. Like, you have no idea. Unless of course you've quilted, then of course you have a VERY good idea. But if you are like I once was, a girl with a romanticized vision of what quilting would entail, let me do you a favor now, and rain on your flowery creative quilting parade. Quilting is approximately 1,000 times more involved than I thought. Even when I was 7/8 of the way finished with the project, I STILL had no idea how much more time I'd be forced to invest. But throw in a toddler and a preschooler who want to be VERY involved in their Mom's quilting process, and then the whole thing becomes more difficult than trying to understand a single word that comes out of Ozzy Osbourne's mouth.

Does it sound like I'm complaining? Because I'm not, really I'm not. Yes, it was a ton of work, but the second part of this is, OH MY HEAVENS! How I loved the process, and even more, how I loved the final moment of completion! Remember: completion is not something I often do, so perhaps the giddiness is on a grander scale than your "average" quilter. Either way, all I know is, if you are ever lucky enough to receive a homemade quilt from someone who loves you, please fall on your knees and thank them profusely (especially if it's from me), because that person loves you enough to endure hours upon hours upon hours of thread/sewing/bobbin/binding/batting/stitching in the ditch madness.

So. Allow myself to introduce you to my quilt. Go on, be friendly and say hello:

Did you want to get up close & personal with her? Do it. I don't mind. In fact, I insist.

My darling mother-in-law (a.k.a. The Quilting Queen) kept talking about how important quilt binding is, and how it can really frame your quilt and make it *pop*. I'm so glad I listened to her! Isn't the binding the cutest? And did you take notice of my decently sewn corners? NOT EASY TO DO, MY FRIENDS!

This picture is for those of you who want to see more of the binding. Bless you. Also, I found "stitching in the ditch" to be nearly impossible and almost cause for a stronger eyeglass prescription, so instead I stitched near the ditch. Good enough. As my mother-in-law says, if a person riding by on a horse can't see it (the "flaw"), then don't worry about it! She always knew what to say to keep me going!

At first I really wanted to give this away to someone, but then I realized this quilt is like a piece of history for me. My very first quilt- sort of like my first lost tooth, or my first cut tendril of hair, or my first pedicure. I love that this summer has been full of so many "firsts" in my world. At 31.5 years old, I didn't know I could have many more firsts.

So no, this quilt won't be going anywhere except on the couch with my loved ones & I. Even Ben seems to appreciate it, and rolled around on it for almost 15 minutes tonight while singing an original song (though I think it was possibly inspired by Katy Perry) entitled, "Mommy Made A Quilt & I Like It". Awesome.

For Those Concerned If I'm Still Alive....

(Shame on you if you are a faithful reader of my blog and you're NOT concerned if I'm alive, because if you didn't know any better, and from the looks of my blog, it appears I've fallen off of the face of the blogging planet). But for those of you who are in my closer circle, you know I braved my almost-worst fear (because snakes will always scare me more than anything) and took a major road trip from home to Albuquerque, New Mexico. Let's digest this for a moment, shall we? That's 1,000 miles. Each way. In a Honda CR-V (not that there's anything wrong with my darling Honda, it just would have been more "manageable" in a family swagger wagon). With two young children. In summer. Meaning, in triple digit degree weather. (Note to self: in the future, must write an entire blog post about my opposition for all things hot and desert-like). But I'm alive, and here to (eventually) tell the stories. (What's the deal with my over-usage of parenthesis, anyway?)

All I can say is: WHO is this mother who takes her children camping for the first time ever, and then a few weeks later takes them on a major road trip? When did I become the bravest gal around, seeking out adventure clearly outside of my comfort zone? My new favorite epiphany is this: once you've faced your fears head on (excluding, of course, the snake thing) it really does feel empowering and encouraging, because right about now I feel fairly confident that I can do just about anything!


In other news, if you've been waiting for an explanation as to why I promised a detailed account of the aforementioned camping trip, and then never delivered on that promise, please let me explain. I actually DID write one hell of a camping trip post, complete with very witty stories, tons of pictures complete with captivating captions (even beautiful food photos- yes, beautiful food is possible even while CAMPING). I was about 99% done with the post, putting on the final touches when suddenly I realized.........somehow along the way, my big fat elbow must have highlighted about 97% of the entire post and pressed the dreaded "delete" button. And thanks to Blogger's auto-save function, I lost everything, without even knowing it.

Let's just say, I burst into tears. And Dan held me. It was awful.

Guys, we're talking hours & hours & hours worth of work; brain cell power, time devoted to uploading the pictures, witty explanations vanished, probably never to return again (because you can't create that sort of magic twice, it's just not how it works).

And to be very honest, I've been so sick about it that I haven't had the courage to sit down and write it all over again. It makes me sick. But as I'm re-reading this over right now, I realize that I seem to have forgotten that just a few paragraphs ago that I claimed to have the confidence that "I can do anything".

Shoot.

Insert foot in mouth.

Okay, fine. I'm on it. Attempt #2 at camping trip recap shall commence very soon. Let me just finish my vacation first because I'm sort of too busy nursing a Haagen Dazs bar right now to be anything that resembles being productive.

A 10 Second Update

We are back from the wilderness, and I am happy to report: I DIDN'T HATE IT! In fact, I mostly liked it! I am far too fatigued and sick of my own smell to give any more details than that, but there is a thorough description of our family camping adventure coming soon, and 1,000 photos to go with it. Raise your hand if you're excited to see photos of me greasy and dirty!! Anyone?

But for those who can't stand the suspense, I'll leave you with the vitals: number of snakes seen or bitten by: 0. Number of salamanders seen: 1. Number of mosquito bites: 1. Number of times my precious friend Liz tried to punch a raccoon through our tent: 1. Overall number of bottles of wine consumed: tons.