Moving J-wards

I love Adoption stories...

2011-04-16T13:34:00.000-07:00

This article was linked today on a conglomerator blog I like to read. The author is part of a reformed theology conference we attended a few months ago, though he didn't speak at the Oregon event.

I like the perspective of this father, and I love adoption stories of any kind. His family includes several children added the "old fashioned way" before they adopted a baby from Russia.

But when the sentence changes from "We're going to have a baby" to "We're going to adopt," things change. All of a sudden the qualifications of good marriage, sufficient income and a home aren't enough. All of sudden, we need to look at the facts.

and this is beautiful:

We had faith in the God who loved us enough to adopt us, sins, scars, imperfections and all, into his holy family. We had faith that just as he knew each of our children before they were born, he knew that Mary was for us, even though she was conceived and born in a different country, by different birth parents.

In our specific situation, we're waiting for our minivan fund to come together and then we'll be moving forward. At this point we're thinking a domestic adoption will be the best choice and we've started gathering paperwork and are researching the options available. Every once in a while when reading statistics about African orphans our thoughts & hearts sway that way, but then we remember the expense and the travel involved, and the stories of kids waiting in foster care are also inspiring.

"We even asked each other, why are we considering this?... But we are not alone. God has given so many others a heart that is sensitive to the needs of the orphans. Some satisfy that sensitivity by providing the finances necessary to make adoptions happen, some build orphanages, some give clothing, some pray without ceasing."

He writes about being grateful. Grateful for a loving God, for the opportunity to have these two daughters in his family, for people who are willing to adopt other children.

"...And, if that is not you, pray about supporting those in your church who are doing this. If you can't do that, pray for them! Love the children they adopt. I can tell you that six years after adopting Mary, and three years after adopting Ana, none of us would trade our family for another. We praise the Lord for his grace and the blessing of adoption - first into God's eternal family and then for permitting us the privilege of picturing this in our earthly family. There is no greater joy. Adopt."

Loud and Proud

2011-04-08T21:23:00.000-07:00

So about the homeschooling kick I'm on...

Here's my trajectory, laid out so I can remember because I already find myself forgetting how I came to think of it as remotely possible in the first place.

I read Anthony Esolen's Ten Ways to Destroy the Imagination of Your Child, which I believe I found by bopping around the "Customers Also Bought" links on Amazon. That raised some good points about education and started me thinking about what I hope for my boys to learn.

Then I read a whole bunch of stuff on teh webz and from the lie-barry. Some useful, some fascinating in a wow that's differnt kind of way.
Somewhere in there, more toward the second category if I'm honest, I read the Duggar's book. Yes, those Duggars. While I don't agree with the quiverfull movement (i.e. having a jillion kids because you believe God commands it) as theology, there's something to the openness with which they live their lives that I find admirable.

There will be things I do in my life which won't find approval from the majority of people. They will think I'm small-minded, provincial, perhaps even a "neanderthal" as one of my colleagues has said about women who stay home. Well, we're adopting. We're Christians. We are looking at homeschooling. There are mistakes to be made, and I'm going to set out and make them without hiding what I think or just plain hiding. I hope I don't swing too far the other way and err toward squashing others in the process, but I'm done with worry silencing me.

Dave Ramsey reminded me of a quote today at a seminar full of great quotes:
"To avoid criticism say nothing, do nothing, be nothing. ~Aristotle"

... and of course “The fear of man lays a snare,” the Bible says, “but whoever trusts in the Lord is safe” (Proverbs 29:25).

The fear of man is a somewhat Christianese phrase, but it is such a great concept, and encapsulates one of the primary differences between a Gospel-centered theology and one based falsely on ideas of prosperity, ease and blessing belonging to Christians in their worldly lives. Being driven by prosperity gospels and even bless-perity gospels lead Christians to be all sorts of jerks to their fellow humans. I like how Piper describes our longing to worship the blessings rather than the God giving them:

"We all make a god out of what we take the most pleasure in. Christian Hedonists want to make God their God by seeking after the greatest pleasure—pleasure in him.

By Christian Hedonism, we do not mean that our happiness is the highest good. We mean that pursuing the highest good will always result in our greatest happiness in the end. We should pursue this happiness, and pursue it with all our might. The desire to be happy is a proper motive for every good deed, and if you abandon the pursuit of your own joy you cannot love man or please God."

Totally unrelated to the post, I giggled when I saw that googling "fear of man" gives you an option of googling "fear of
mannequins". Let's face it: they are creepy, creepy indeed.

Tap tap tap...

2011-04-08T16:51:00.001-07:00

Is this thing on?

I just read the stale old posts left here, and realized I'd like to get back to this whole blogging schtick.

Updates are: We left that church we were going to after 2 years there. We wish them well, but I am much happier at our new digs. We've been reading the Bible a lot more in the last 18 months or so, and went to the Desiring God conference, and a few other reformed theology conferences. I hope to write more about this stuff, but if you're looking for good podcasts I recommend Mark Driscoll of Mars Hill Church, Dr. John Piper, and a whole bunch more. Start with Marky D's doctrine series- it's very good. Perfect length for listening on the treadmill, too.

I'm thinking of homeschooling. In related news, we bought some hermit crabs, I'm making a fort out of a huge truck hubcap and curly willow, I like canning vegetables, and if I had a zillion dollars I would buy a small farm slash compound. You'd be invited, but only if you promise to shoot me on sight if you see me wearing floor-length denim skirts with white tennis shoes (my first ever homeschooling joke, you're welcome).

Isn't there a blog around here somewhere?

Isaac turned 3 and has developed a fascinating array of facial expressions. Many approximate real faces people make. All are more dramatic. Like William Shatner in face form.

At the end of the summer we plan to adopt. A human, not a habit or a theology or a pet. Though those sound (mostly) simpler.

Sunday Night Haiti Benefit Concert

2010-01-22T20:29:00.001-08:00

I'm playing in this benefit this weekend. Hope to see you there!
~Miriam

At least we made it!

2009-11-06T10:46:00.000-08:00

I took this with my phone about 10 minutes away from J's office Halloween Party. Both boys were so tired, and even when we stopped the car, opened the doors and started stuffing their warm & sticky little boy feet into their shoes they STILL didn't wake up. We had to use the c-word. ("CANDY!")

It was better than last year, when I tragically took too long to make a diaper box into a car costume for Toby and missed the party all together. That made me grumpy for a good week.

We had two ginormous pumpkins- in fact we still have their carcasses and guts all over our driveway. I'm sure the HOA is impressed. The are big enough that the boys can sit inside each and pretend they're on a train. Except Isaac is too prissy and doesn't like the feel of cold pumpkin all around him.

On another uncomfortable note... I spoke to one of the leaders of our church today. Ours is a church that believes over-programming is a real problem and that giving people pre-set ways to plug into a church can be detrimental to building true relationships among believers. I'm not sure I'm representing that fully, but there doesn't really seem to be a set statement available about this kind of philosophy. They use the word "organic" a lot and they emphasize connecting through House Churches. For our house church we go twice a month to a house about 3 miles from our own to worship, learn a bit more about the sermon and pray for each other. I love our House Church, but the reason I went to chat with the leader was that it just wasn't cutting it for me as far as bible study or connection with other moms in particular.

The chat I had went pretty much as I thought it would. She outlined their view again, and made clear that the church is not likely to change any of this any time soon. (I.E. They aren't going to let me start a bible study for moms and use their website to link people together.) I think at my most strident I said something about people with addictions and depression getting more help than young moms. But then I've been known to dabble in the dramatic from time to time, and I honestly did come around to their way of thinking at least a little.

It's true that if they provided a group for me to just show up and be a part of, I most likely would NOT be looking for relationships with people from the church on my own. And it's entirely possible that we would never have gone to House Church if I hadn't pestered J because I was going nuts without any community outside of tiny demanding people who share a large part of my DNA. So I would feel better and more connected but my family might not be and the church's vision for House Churches would become further from reality.

I am not fully convinced, but I'm willing to "give it six more months" as requested by the leadership. I still think parenthood, especially with preschoolers, is a demanding and challenging time. It's supposed to be a great time to set up habits and understanding of God in your child and I would love our church to give me direction there. We chose this church because of the fantastic preaching. Absolutely outstanding doctrine- and plenty of it each week to keep my own study lively just by looking into all the reference verses they give. You can find podcasts here.

Useless

2009-11-02T12:59:00.000-08:00

The boys and I went to a little play-party with our friends from MOPs this morning. It was great until they brought out the snacks. Animal crackers made with whole egg and doughnuts are not safe for Isaac. I'm not sure the other moms really understand the feeling I have when diving across the room to prevent him from putting that stuff in his mouth.

Lots of people in our area are into this Naturopathic trend of calling yourself "allergic" to all sorts of things. They take a blood sample and put it through some tests to see if you have sensitivities. The ultimate effect of all this band-wagoning of false allergies for me is that when I tell the childcare people that Isaac is allergic to eggs I can just about see their eyes glaze over. Then I hand them the EpiPen and usually they perk up and realize this is not just a bourgeois badge. (As in, "My Caleb is allergic to water, flour and anything treated with pesticides or transported more than 100 miles. He can have some $20 Whole Paychecks triple-approved snacks served only in hand-extruded glasses if you have those lying around somewhere.")

So this morning turned out to be really fun until it wasn't. I'm just not a laid-back person anyway. I like to think of myself as passionate, but when I'm literally batting little animal-shaped foods out of my toddler's hand and can't focus on adult conversation because I am afraid, things are getting out of hand and I just feel like my freakishness is showing. So we left.

I came home and checked my email. A kid from the college where I teach just died of swine flu.

Being a mom is nearly impossible some days.

Allergists need our prayers.

2009-10-28T08:33:00.000-07:00

Isaac has an appointment today with a new allergist for his egg allergy. Allergists seem to be stuck between a rock and a hard place. There still isn't much hard science on the physical sources/causes of allergic response, let alone science that reveals the best therapeutic practices. Each new study reveals a whole uncharted territory rather than definitive answers. There is even debate on the exact mechanism that causes the system to freak so catastrophically.

Isaac's had just one reaction, and we've been to an allergist twice- once for testing and once so the guy could demonstrate that he was terrible at taking notes in charts and had no memory of us whatsoever. I have a lot of sympathy for doctors. At the beginning of each teaching term when I have my usual 15-18 students plus 3-5 more plus all the folks I've signed up to other teacher in our academy... well, for a few weeks I live in fear of calling people by the wrong name. Luckily Jonathan is very patient when I give up and just call him Sugar Daddy. I really do understand that it's impossible to remember all your patients, even when they are as fabulous and superior as Isaackle.

Today we're going to a new guy, and hopefully he can help us figure out how to keep Isaac immunized. The MMR is formulated with egg, as are all the influenza vaccines. Lewzers. Processed food companies find all sorts of wonderful ways to avoid using real ingredients- why can't pharmaceutical corps?

Boo!

2009-10-27T13:00:00.001-07:00

So, it has been absolutely forever and a day since I wrote anything on here. I miss it. I enjoy the challenge of arranging my thoughts (or at least letting them spill out).

I think I'll do NaBloPoMo. (National Blog Posting Month) in November, that thing where I try to come up with something to write about every day for a month.

Lots has happened since I last posted. I started a new business, won a little audition and am trying to get connected in our church. Isaac figured out walking, shrieking, pushing my buttons and shoes. Toby still loves hot wheels but now he can put together a complex train track and likes legos, too. J is busy fulfilling my every waking need.

More about all of these is to come. Isaac just destroyed some lego thing and Toby is wailing. Nap time!

Placeholder post

2009-05-29T13:26:00.001-07:00

I have fallen off the face of the internet, but this time it's good.

We had Jonathan's family visit over the long weekend and it was AWESOME. The weather was wonderful and we got out and did a bunch of fun stuff. I apparently missed the best room at OMSI every time I've gone there. This time Toby and his Grandma pretty much spent the whole morning there exploring all the neat, touchable stuff.

I've been practicing, too. And teaching an extra day at a very inconvenient school packed with awesome families. And I finally started moving my butt again. I had to after eating out every meal for five days in a row. Frightening!

So there may be something here soon. I really like having this chronicle, and it makes me sad when I slack off. After all, I need proof that my brain cells occasionally fire enough to make complete sentences.

See you soon.

Thanks, Karen!

2009-05-07T21:19:00.000-07:00

Karen is a total stud. Look what she made me!

Date weekend!

2009-04-29T14:18:00.000-07:00

We are heading out of town tomorrow to celebrate those five long years I was telling you about. Some one else will have to teach the boys how to share, take turns, refrain from damaging one another, etc. That some one will be my parents so perhaps some prayer out their way in in order...

Toby only ever gets to play with his stuff on the floor like this if Isaac is sleeping. Poor, sweet, testing every one of my rules and boundaries, dear Toby. He's upstairs tearing around his room during nap time as I type this. I am NOT going up there.

They are getting better at playing with the same things at the same time, but still... you have to watch out when they are off their leashes like this. Isaac is surprisingly stubborn and noisy about wanting stuff. He has developed into a shrieker. Happy squealing, anticipatory squeaking, displeased screaming. We are going to sleep until 10 all weekend.

Isaac can find danger anywhere.
Not my problem! Ha ha, gramma-grumpa!

They are alllllll yours.

I'll need phone pictures and emailed updates every hour or so.

It's not what you do...

2009-04-28T14:17:00.000-07:00

Some friends asked me this week why I write this here blog and pony show. One answer I'm coming to realize is more and more motivating for me is that it saves my marriage. Without this I would drive my husband even crazier, and vice versa. On Friday we celebrate five years since our wedding day. People say this all the time, but I really can't believe it has been so long, because it totally has that new marriage smell. It's still so much fun.

One thing I'm personally working on lately in a very Oprah kind of way is that the day to day details of my life haven't had the sparkle they once did. I think dust and moths have gotten in. I asked J the other day what he thought was the biggest sin in his life and he said, of course, not worshiping his wife nearly intensely enough. His God, I mean, not his wife. Snort.

Anyway, back to me. I think for me the biggest sin and dust and moths are mostly shaped like worry and fear. I am a world class worrier. I remember my Grandma Norma once grabbed my hand and squeezed it and told me I would always be a worrier. I was about 4 years old, no lie. She was right, though; even her prediction made me worry. And lately I have things going on that seem to justify all sorts of grave concern. Isaac is strongly (deathly is not hyperbole) allergic to eggs, Toby's going to have eye surgery and is testing my ability to restrain my smacking hand daily. (Lookout, boy, or I'll come after you with my smackin' hand!) Also, the plague is back with a vengence and the financial world is weeping: in case you haven't been watching CNN the sky is actually falling, people. Costco had a book on survivalism on sale for $11.98. I would have bought one, too, but when I flipped it open and read, "How to Find Water in Desert Terrain" I realized we are all just incredibly doomed. Not even Costco can help.

So on a day like today when I wake up feeling underemployed, unprepared, invisible and annoyed all at once, I figure typing a few words onto the internet isn't such a bad option. It's an outlet and it saves Jonathan from becoming the customer service center for my whole life. This is not to say I'm not praying. This very afternoon I prayed out loud several times in the car and again as soon as I had ~~locked Toby in his room~~ put Toby down for a nap. I also tried screaming into a pillow, though I forgot the pillow. At least Isaac laughed.

So many things bug me about myself lately I can hardly stand it. I'm afraid the way I discipline will screw the kids up. I'm really tired of these 25 pounds, and feel true shame about that, then realize how vain that is and feel worse. I am being really lazy about chores and then I get grumpy because J is, too. I don't practice consistently and then wonder what the point is since there aren't going to be any more gigs what with the world ending and all. Classical music at times seems already half dead in Portland, but that's a whole other post. Maybe two.

As you can see, I have a tidy pile of junk I can use to cover up any glimmers in the good part of my day. I use this heap all the time as a distraction from my own responsibilities and capabilities. I have all this "stuff going on" so if I couldn't practice/run/study/clean the bedroom, well, I'm parenting toddlers so who can blame me?

Thing is, skipping all those things just feels awful. And I know that. I just haven't figured out how to change my behavior on any of it. So instead of getting up to go do some stuff, I sit down and write about it here.

And suddenly I feel a little better. So that's why I blog: To put off doing stuff and to desperately achieve a false sense of accomplishment. Ta-dah!

Schmack.

2009-04-18T22:29:00.000-07:00

I tried a women's day thing at church today. It was fine, thank you. Very polite. I met two people. Whatever. We made jewelry.

My dream version of today would have involved forced group interaction, maybe making collages about our inmost thoughts. Perhaps staging a short skit. Does that shock you? It does me, quite a bit. Since having the boys I have had trouble really developing and especially maintaining deep friendships. I have some wonderful local friends, but we all have at least two kids and that adds up to a lot of distractions. Factor in the number of times each of us cancels a get-together due to childhood infirmity and there you have it. We might as well be internet dating each other.

I could do much more to foster those relationships. The most effective would be to forget about my vanity over the house long enough to just invite them over already.

People talk about juggling priorities as a parent. For us, the dilemna isn't determining how much to give our kids (answer: everything we've got), the problem is how to balance the activities we most want to fit in otherwise. Studying to love God more, practicing that old viola, moving my body before it completely seizes up on the side of the road. I've felt keenly the truth that failing to fit in all those things shorts the kids in the end anyway because I'm such a complete grumpy mess.

Every part of parenting that should be obvious keeps smacking me in the forehead while hissing, No- really, Miriam! Remember when we used to say No DUH!?

This necklace has a train charm, just to make Toby love me more.

Best. Mother. Ever.

2009-04-13T14:02:00.000-07:00

When I went into Toby's room first thing this morning, he said "HI MAMA! I WANT ONE OF THOSE!!" and showed me some tiny little cupcakes in the corner of a picture in his Richard Scarry book which he had lugged up on his bed. He made as if to pluck them right off the page, so we ate a few imaginary cupcakes as a breakfast apertif.

Later, I took him downtown to a local rockstar cupcake shop and bought him exactly what he wanted (mini no-frosting vanilla). On the way we saw both a train AND a vintage muscle car (silver, with chrome everything) plus we sang the ABCs and had a happy shrieking contest with Isaac. We had to go to the cupcake hipsters anyway, to pick up a gift certificate ~~my minions~~ the Viola Society gave away as a raffle prize, but he didn't know that. As far as he knows, I love him that much.

Aren't I just the best?

I am a marshmallow.

2009-04-12T22:47:00.000-07:00

Maybe a Peep?

I bawled in church today. Not because it's Easter and not because of the message.

It's these words, and the act of trying to sing them with a group of people:
~
How deep the Father's love for us
How vast beyond all measure
That He would give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure

How great the pain of searing loss
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the chosen One
Bring many sons to glory

Behold the Man upon a cross
My guilt upon His shoulders
Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice
Call out among the scoffers

It was my sin that held Him there
Until it was accomplished
His dying breath has brought me life
I know that it is finished

I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no powr's, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection

Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom
~
It's especially those italicized verses that make my throat tight and hurty. The fact that my husband drives straight home, gets out his guitar and figures out the chords is pretty awesome, too. This year, I have that wonderful Christmassy feeling at Easter instead. It's probably better that way, really.

It's not that we prepared especially. We certainly don't have an Easter tree, and my mom had to buy all the egg decoratin' gear for Toby to have any memory of this year's holiday at all. We did stop at WalMart this morning and snag the very last bag of malted eggs in the whole state, apparently. We didn't even do lent despite my fascination with it. I guess you could say it's a pretty distant fascination, sort of like the way I feel about people who run ultra marathons or play in the Met Opera orchestra.

It's just that I feel the recent clouds- adoption failure, new baby haze, heinous church shopping, the various infections and medical mysteries the boys suddenly seem bent on collecting- have disipated. They're there, but it just feels like life and not so much like the other.

Yesterday I watched a community come together and celebrate a violist who was killed the year I moved here. I play some of her gigs, I have the priveledge of carpooling with some of her good friends. Preparing for the concert was a heavy responsibility and I found myself cherishing all the goofy things in my hectic and lovely life. It turned out to be fun, and fulfilling and I think she must have been quite something considering all the funny stories people were remembering. Sassy. I like that word even more now.

I love Easter. God bless you, internet.

Inconspicuous Jesus

2009-03-10T17:25:00.000-07:00

Okay, don't get mad. That title comes from a morning spent googling infant diseases and constantly coming up with references to a condition involving boy-parts. I'm not blaspheming, it's just running through my incredibly pious head. Hey, look, a picture of baby Jesus with, like, 16-pack abs! It frightened me at a Catholic church gig last month so I knew I had to show it to you immediately.

We're up against another non-negotiable problem with the church we thought we finally liked. The worship dude had a full sleeve and often pronounced things like that guy from the Decemberists, which tells me he's got to have at least some redeeming qualities. So that wasn't the problem. It was a boring theological thingamaBLEH that the pastor said in the middle of his sermon. J and I exchanged glances, zipped up our matching christian-fish-eating-darwin bible covers and backed out while hissing and speaking in tongues. Not really. We haven't sprung for the covers yet.

So I guess instead of finding a church we'll just have to start our own sect. To belong, you must like 79.4% of the following:

Mexican food (margaritas required)
Lawyers
24 or CSI
Violas above all those inferior instruments (that's a gimme- how could you not, you heathen? Also, if you say, "Isn't that kinda like a violin?" we will betray you for 30 pieces of silver.)
This American Life
Irony and/or Sarcasm

I feel like I'm forgetting something...

We're busy lately.

2009-03-10T17:20:00.001-07:00

Mostly we are coated in play-doh, ketchup, finger paint or receipts from the pediatrician. It's a look.

Here we have Toby channeling Robert Smith. He's gifted, I tell you.

Nipper

2009-03-07T09:40:00.000-08:00

Isaac fell asleep on my chest on the couch yesterday. Neither of my kids has ever done that so far. Actually, except in the first few weeks I've never even seen either of them drift off since they do that in the privacy of their wee little beds.

I guess this was one of those new mom moments I somehow missed over the last three years. It's kinda nice to be able to say, without a doubt, that this is no parenting hormone gush. The sweet treebark smell of his hair, the warmth and weight of his chest, the light quick snore and smushy cheek undo me.

I hope he does it again soon.

Potty Tower*

2009-03-03T16:52:00.000-08:00

Toby still shows no interest in toilet training. He's 37 months (3 human years) old.

Today I could tell he was in process and offered to take him to the toilet. Mom and dad were visiting so he declined on the grounds that he "Wanna play." I pressed a bit, telling him all sorts of people like Grandpa and Daddy do that on the toilet so they don't have to lay down in the middle of everything and have a diaper change.

He looked at me with this one very piercing look he has, not angry but startlingly focused and quietly but firmly said, "I know that they do," in a tone that informed me in no uncertain terms that our conversation was over.

If he's going to sound like an older man it would be nice if he picked up just one or two of their habits.

*He calls the Potty Power video we got from the library "Potty Tower".

Externally processing churchy things...

2009-02-27T11:22:00.000-08:00

I still feel really out of my zone in Portland despite our living here for three years now.

I've been thinking about why I still feel like a stranger, and I think it has a lot to do with my misperception of church. When Jonathan and I met we were part of an amazing place, with a mix of ages and other socio-economic junk. The way they did the worship music built a community unto itself- anybody could play but you had to attend a regular Wednesday night rehearsal every week. If you weren't playing that week you'd study music or theology or sit around and eat donuts, but you were, forgive the Christianese, plugged in. At the time I just assumed other churches tried to do something similar.

As if.

We went to a church here called Imago Dei for two years before we started shopping again. Toby was dedicated there. Imago is famous for being post-modern, edgy, young: Don Miller's church. We loved the pastor, we loved the idea that creativity honors and expresses our creator, loved exchanging ideas for new tattoos, we even met a handfull (okay, three) friendly people there. I just ended up feeling completely unwelcome. I tried the membership class twice. Both times somebody asked "Why would God allow evil in our lives if he's supposed to be good". The first time the question came from an emotionally disturbed girl (a girl like the girl in The Breakfast Club but without the kissing and the emergence from weirdness). The teacher/pastor person basically said We Don't Have Time for That Kind of Question. I thought, well, maybe he's new to this and just wasn't ready to go there. He was following a hand out. But when it happened again, this time from somebody who had spoken to the church several times on Sunday and was on payroll there, I had had enough.

When I walk down the halls of a church, I guess I would hope to see some people planted there. They don't have to wear a tie and shake my hand. They don't even have to say anything, maybe smile sometimes, but if I have a question or want a program or need some prayer it would be nice to not feel as though I'm messing up their clique. And if it's a staff member then my feeling is they are OBLIGATED to be nice, because it's not their church.

At Imago I served on worship, I tried the classes (including one whose teacher later said he had questions about Jesus' divinity), I tried a house church, I served in the kid check-in, and I almost served as the Women's Coordinator. I told them I couldn't do that last one because my husband's job was changing, we might have to move, we might be adopting and I was pregnant with my second kid. They said okay, we'll find somebody else and never asked me about any one of those things again. Is that community? We've gone back from time to time because there are a few people we love, but the last two times people walked past me whose homes I've been in without so much as a Good Morning.

I wasn't raised in a church, but I have come to believe it's really important for me now to be part of one. I need mentors and inspirors and I need to serve. It baffles me that God would make it so flipping hard to figure out where I should be doing that. Lots of things He does confuse me, I have tons of questions and I can't understand why it would be hard to find the answers. I've spent a lot of the last year doing my own (lazy) kind of wrestling with God, which really amounted to me not asking him out to coffee or hiring Him for any gigs for a while. He still showed me some stuff, but I figured if He was going to be all distant then two could play that game.

For about a month we've been going to a new place. The pastor is completely amazing. He includes a heaping pile of verses every time, he's memorable and humble and funny. He reminds me of our Madison pastor- a man who looked and sort of spoke like an accountant but gave sermons I remember to this day. The church seems pretty bare-bones as far as I can tell, but it's got all the essentials.

I've changed my requirements for a church. If I don't make a bunch of bff's there, I'll be a little disappointed but not shocked. If we find a way to get directly involved, great. If not, then I'm going to buckle down and focus on the teaching. Which brings me to the biggest shift in my thinking: I am the only one responsible for my knowledge of God. No church or school or study will fix the problem if I don't just do it, no matter how many verses they cover. It's like practicing. Or running. Or any of a million SHOULDs I love/dread every day.

I'm trying to thicken my skin, to look for my family where God puts it. I'm hoping this makes me feel more at home.

Don't we all...

2009-02-15T16:54:00.000-08:00

Wish we could take a turn in somebody else's toys once in a great while?

If my head spins off...

2009-02-10T23:12:00.000-08:00

... just give it a shove over this way, will you?

We are in the thick of Grandparent visit decompression. Toby misses the attention but doesn't know that's what is wrong, so he tries whining and being naughty to see if that helps. I imagine it does at times.

Poor little man. He's at that stage where if I said in a stern voice, "Toby, you have to eat that ice cream and then skip your nap so we can watch videos until your brains flow out your ears." He'd say, "Noooooo! I want candy canes!"

I don't have enough punctuation to show you the octaves that boy is reaching.

Pass the margaritas (and thank you, Grandparents who left the bottle here)!

And while I'm at it, can I just talk about nipples for a sec? I am seriously considering feeding Isaac from bottles for the rest of my sentence (March 24, March 24, March 24...) because he is TEEEETHING. He's miserable, I'm jumpy and miserable, it's not pretty.

That is all. (Pray for all of our sensitive bits, will you?)

Jona(than) in the belly of the fish

2009-02-09T09:17:00.001-08:00

Fallen & pushed are not the same thing.

2009-02-09T08:24:00.000-08:00

Sometimes people scare me. There was this one mom at the pizza-play place we took Toby for his birthday who must have fully committed herself to raising brats. Her kids were those kids. You know.

And when my mom kindly asked one of them to stop jumping on our kid seeing as he is 5 years younger and was starting to cry, he went and told on her to his own mother, sitting 50 feet away with her back turned. Brilliant mom then marches over and reprimands my mother for doing her job.

No big deal, right? You've heard worse.

It just makes it hard to let your kids out into the world, like, ever. The irony is that I think of myself as pretty permissive; I get a kick out of hanging back and watching the kids discover things and work their way out of stuff. But to do that I have to assume that the majority of the people around me understand and agree to uphold the rules of common courtesy and that is not true. It reminds me that there is evil around and it's going to get all over us. (See how fun I would be at your next cocktail party?)

Another neat story everyone probably already saw but me...

2009-01-31T16:02:00.000-08:00

Meme me (times 20)

2009-01-29T23:06:00.000-08:00

This is recycling at its best. Here is a list of 20 things about me.

1. I have lots of beliefs & behaviors that people assume stem from some ideological decision. Decision? Rarely. They’re just my collection of wack-a-doo preferences even though they put me in a fairly predictable box. A box in which you might expect to see me sporting Secty-hair with an ankle-length dress and tennis shoes (shudder) and holing up on a compound in Alaska with some of our closest relations…

2. I’m a vegetarian. But my Papa was a trapper in Montana and my parents raise beef. I would LOVE to go elk hunting sometime, especially with my dad. I’ll kill it, dress it, pack it out and cook it… for you! I just don’t like the texture, smell or taste of meat. (You people EAT chicken? Have you touched it raw?) When I was 13 I thought I would try being a vegetarian while standing in line for a junior high cafeteria lunch. It smelled nasty, and I figured if I couldn’t kill it I shouldn’t eat it. That’s changed a bit, a la Xena the elk huntress, but I still haven’t eaten any for years and don’t see a need to. My inlaws and Papa like to tease me about it, but they’ve been very accommodating.

3. After the elk hunting revelation it’s probably no surprise that I’m a gun rights advocate. Whoa Nelly! In my circle of friends, profession and city that makes me a freak in four languages. This past weekend on the way to a lovely chamber music gig I picked Jonathan up from a gun show where he had purchased “the least PC thing there”. Think, “say hello to my leetle friend” and you’ll be on the right track. He also teaches a concealed-carry class. Sexy.

4. I have yet to discover a children’s show worth watching. I cannot stand modern Sesame Street. We do watch Veggie Tales (just see if you can get the monkey song out of your head) but the Pirates movie was a disappointing Disney sell-out. Speaking of selling out, as I type a truly insipid episode of Bob the Builder is playing for Toby. So I’m the worst possible kind of snob- one willing to sully her brain stem and make her children stupider for the sake of convenience and pure adoration.

5. I wish I had more shoes.

6. I still daydream about a Fetique bow I tried at a dealer showcase in Aspen in 2000. It cost more than our Jeep, even back then. For a long time I had a French bow that was worth more than my old viola, but a little less than a new Jeep. I kind of hated that bow’s guts and still wonder why I lost my mind and had to live with it for so long. Lots of non-string players are shocked that the stick makes enough of a difference to justify really shelling out for one. Bows are amazing, just look at them all curvy and lithe.

7. I’m allergic to stone fruits and tree nuts. That includes avocado, apricots, apples and my favorite food ever, cherries. I was perfectly fine eating all of these (though my mouth would get a little itchy) until I turned 19. Now they try to kill me. Between that and the vegetarianism, I cook an awful lot of stuff for my family that I won’t eat and I’m not very fun for the host of a dinner party. Though I will eat lettuce, cranberry sauce & rolls and call it a feast at Thanksgiving, so at least I’m not that kind of picky. (Mmmmmm, cranberries…)

8. I am going to talk about brrrrreastfeeding (roll that r, people). I seriously had never really given it a second thought before I had kids. Did people really do this before? With the hanging bits out in midair and futzing with strangely S&M looking boob-gear and public gnawings? Life is weird. Humans!
Anyway, because of all the stupid allergies, we (by which I mean me and the ladies) breastfeed our spawn for a whole year before they get any solid food. Toby didn’t seem to mind. Isaac, however, is beside himself at 10 months of age. He eats lint and will sprint-crawl if he sees a scrap of paper. When he sees us eating he smacks his lips and all but points repeatedly to his gaping pie-hole. He trolls around Toby’s chair at mealtime like a DHS-bound Lassie and sneaks chews on the leather handles of the antique trunk in our living room. So I suppose he won’t end up with allergies but he will contract Anthrax and have strange fetishes. Sigh.

9. I love crosswords and am really annoyed that Verizon doesn’t have a NY Times app for me to buy. Lewzers.

10. I’m frugal but not cheap.

11. I love doing laundry and dishes. Seriously. When they’re done, they’re done. Clean or dirty, no in-between. So unlike practicing the viola.

12. I didn’t vote for Obama, but I still respect his office and have hopes for his time there. I believe strongly that the government is a picture of inefficiency and should be used sparingly. If that makes me conservative, fine, but I have yet to meet a political party with which I identify.
What is with people being a-holes on either side? Why was Palin such a lightning rod for anti-mother, anti-special needs anti-family ugliness? It's fine to disagree with somebody but what's up with the personal attacks? What did people really know about her? That she was on the wrong side. A colleague said of her big family, “what CENtury are we in, anyway?” and it bit me. Because if you don’t have a nanny and two kids max you are a backwards idiot? I saw a bit of anti-Obama propaganda the other day and it also made my blood boil. He is the president, and that deserves some respect. Can’t you see me shaking my cane?

13. I like peonies best.

14. My mom is a welder and my dad regularly wins his age group at marathons. I hope when I grow up I’m like them. I’ve started running 1,972,358 times. J and I have done two 10k’s and a triathlon, but the last great endeavor was 2 years ago. We have a treadmill in the garage and as soon as I am getting more than 3 hours of sleep in a row I plan to hang out with that sucker every morning.

15. Noisy places undo me, and I get wander-y.

16. Jonathan is muuuuuch more sentimental. Not in a pack-rat kind of way, but in a touchy-feely, tearing-up, giving-a-crap kind of way. He is excellent at remembering that I mentioned I wanted a gizmo three months ago when it’s time to get me a gift. I am terrible at dates of any sort and have to count on my fingers how many anniversaries we’ve had. One year I nagged him five times a day all week to tell me what he wanted on his birthday. And then the day of? I forgot until evening and was cross with him in the afternoon. When we were dating I once forgot it entirely, completely. AND, AND!, the date is part of his email address. I deserve harsh punishment.

17. I hate the color yellow. When I was sick as a kid, I told my mom I felt yellow.

18. I am secretly horrified in a nauseated way of escalators and automatons. My nightmare is a busy shopping mall with Kenny-G Muzak, a bell ringer, a big Christmas-deer-robot display and banks of escalators with no stairs in sight. And it smells faintly of sausage. So basically, Clackamas Town Center.

19. I am an evangelical Christian. But wait! I think the way the Church has dealt with the following topics has been pretty much Evil: homosexuality, abortion, art, evolution.
That being said, I can’t just leave that hanging and am going to address abortion: I am not pro-Choice because I have seen empirical evidence that a fetus is a life and because babies are now surviving from as little as 25-26 weeks. There is no question that there are situations in which it is terrible for the woman to have to carry a fetus to term, and I’m not talking about medically terrible. But how can we say that it is okay for us to encourage that choice? And how about those first weeks? After conception there is no watershed developmental moment- it is all one big fast (very very fast) cascade from there. So while you are wondering about where the line is, couldn’t we just assume in favor of the fetus in MOST cases? I am not sure I’m for outlawing abortion, but I am definitely in favor of early ultrasounds and full information for those not at medical risk who are considering one. If more information is dangerous to a viewpoint, that viewpoint is likely biased for extenuating reasons and therefore is flawed.
But I will not think poorly of you for disagreeing.
Also, evolution and creation are not mutually exclusive. Both are still mysteries of which their own proponents admit we only know a weensy bit. If you you have spent time with a toddler lately you’ll agree that dangerously nutty stage makes no evolutionary sense whatsoever.

20. Well. If you are still reading, you must be my mother. How’s our wing of the compound coming?

Aiiiiiiiiisaac

2009-01-26T22:41:00.001-08:00

I'm not sure why he does it.

The thing about parenting a nine-month old is that you can't take their word for anything at all. They could look perfectly fine and be hiding some horrible disease. I watch House. I've seen how a little tic here or an out of place cry there could be hiding an allergy to air or somesuch.

So when he wakes up at 11:15, 3:30, 6 and 8... well, it's confusing. He used to sleep. I remember the days, sweet and carefree and smelling faintly of milk and honey. (Not that he can eat either yet.)

It makes me sleepy and incoherent. And irritable. And prone to not blogging.

I'm not dead yet...

2009-01-21T07:50:00.000-08:00

This is the price I pay for saying we don't really get sick very often. I've been sick for an entire month, and now know the intimate disgust that is a sinus infection. With a bronchitis bonus! I finally went and got some druuuuugs and I'm much better now.

The first day we were all feeling better (Isaac's got it, too) we decided to drive downtown since it was Toby's third birthday and ride the train. And Toby threw up all over the car, bless his little heart. Ironically I was telling J on the way in that I needed to ask the pediatrician what it means when he complains that his tummy hurts. I'm pretty clear on that now.

So that's where I've been. Look what my awesome Montana parents sent:
http://www.rhchurch.org/pages/cardboard-testimonies/

It helped me further clean out my works by giving me a good bawl, and I am not prone to that kind of thing.

Mmmm, bread.

2008-12-31T11:05:00.000-08:00

Funny how the most joyous, prettiest time of year sort of rubs my nose in the fact that I have a lot of work to do on savoring the truly important.

Sometimes I just stuff myself with bread instead.

So, I'm heading off to enjoy my people.

Snow week

2008-12-22T14:18:00.000-08:00

I can be totally smug and annoying about having grown up in Fairbanks.

You have to give me some credit for living up there through high school though, right? At the time we kids jumped at the chance to possibly sacrifice our extremities in order to wear penny loafers sockless at -60, just as God intended. Nobody complained much. Even the adults carried on as though we were living someplace habitable, allowing the formation of a football team for about 2 games before the field was flooded for its real purpose as an outdoor hockey rink. It was them, not us, who announced an Aloha Day each year in January. Don't tell me they couldn't see that prank fire alarm pull coming. Must be they secretly enjoyed seeing the cheerleaders lined up outside at -40 with nothing but their coolness to keep their flip-flopping hula-beskirted butts warm.

As I was saying, I can be insufferable about the winter weakness of Portlanders. Who can blame me when they close school for an entire week for four inches of snow received on Sunday? And the news weather men? Well, I myself have never actually seen the producer stuffing their pockets with promotion dough whenever they declare a "snow EVENT", but I'm pretty sure I can see the dollar signs reflected in their petulant eyes.

This week, though. This week those ninnies were right.

It snowed a bunch and it stuck. Both snow events (I'm picking up the lingo as best I can) are rare here. Then it sat still and developed an ice crust and then this stuff fell from the sky that called itself rain, but it was 24 degrees out so it just mated with the ice crust and multiplied. That was fun, big crunchy steps made instant jagged daggers Toby kept calling strawberry pizza as he shoveled it into his mouth. Whattaya know, weirdo genes do make more weirdos.

So up to this point I was traipsing around town, making up reasons to drive around and ridicule others. The malls were practically empty, which is my favorite flavor. But then it snowed again. And again. And now we have, like, over a foot of snow with a hard layer in the middle and I am going to have to call Uncle! and say, yes, Portland, this has indeed been the Winter Snow Event 2009.

And then he actually ASKED to wash his hands...

2008-12-22T11:35:00.000-08:00

Toby's Year-end Round-up

2008-12-18T12:25:00.000-08:00

It's very odd, this sensation of being totally smitten and completely frustrated with somebody at the exact same moment.

He's so amazing, and funny. He'll repeat anything you say and we do like to use that for all it's worth, a la this (slight language warning).

He's also contrary right down to his marrow. Yesterday I told him out of the blue, "Sorry buddy, no more hugs today," and you and guess who got a big fat awesome running toddler cuddle pronto.

Today we had an eye appointment. Turns out they upped the scrip again, and if that doesn't fix the problem then it's surgery time. And you know what really bothered me most about this whole morning? The two tantrums and unmeasurable decibels of whining that went on in front of two opthamologists, one tech and two nurses. Is it wrong to be embarrassed by a toddler? Does it matter whether it's right or not? Can I send him to military school only on select days?

I think parenting makes you let go. Of ideas of yourself, of images of yourself as a parent, of your selfishness and self-centeredness and of your time and money. Maybe the difficulty with Toby lately lies in me.

Or maybe he's just incredibly clever and wants to find every last one of my buttons. He likes buttons. I hope I don't show him my frustration too often, and I'm pretty sure it's because he's generally mellow that his less-fine moments undo me so quickly. Man, am I happy to know about the concept of grace because I need a buttload right now.

My Budget Plan for 2009

2008-12-17T20:40:00.000-08:00

Here's a quote I put on the back of a photo in our Christmas cards, and I am sticking an extra one in my wallet to remind me not to spend all my money on junk because then when I pull it out for some cute turtle I'll be sad to realize I've only got lint*.

"The very nature of Joy makes
nonsense of our common distinction
between having and wanting."
~C. S. Lewis

Toby is eating snow and Isaac is wishing he could. I am just thinking, Man, I wish we could figure out a way to get J in this picture without digging out the tripod.

*Anybody else old enough to remember that educational cartoon, yo?

Isaac's Year-end Round-up

2008-12-15T19:45:00.000-08:00

Isaac has been teething. He's had two big teeth on the bottom, perfect for all his lucrative exploited child modeling contracts. Now, he appears to be adding on in the upper story. Poor dude attempted to eat our entire couch the other day.

I think he's more adventurous than Toby was. He gets himself into the strangest trouble. A few months back we broke a wine glass and even with both of us cleaning it up I almost lost my mind the next day when I looked up to see him start to gum a largish shard. Somehow no blood was shed.

Tonight he made his distress sound (kind of like a dust-buster's whine) when he got himself stuck under the train table. As he ramped up into the "no, really, I'm in pain" octave, I sprinted over and pulled out the drawer to extract him. Turns out he was sort of half stuck in that drawer, so when I pulled it forward his head smacked right into the table's edge. Some rescue, sigh. Parent of the year moment, right there.

Lucky for me he's an easy boss. Lucky for him he figured out how to sleep twelve (12!) hours just after Thanksgiving and has not backslid at all. We were this close to shipping him off to a nunnery.

Actually, at my last recital I played this incredible piece written for voice by Samuel Barber and the text was all based on a vision of St. Ita about Mary's nursing Jesus. Talking about breastfeeding the creator of the universe seems kinda creepy or maybe kinda Hindu, but the text is pretty cool. I know the words don't exactly come through the viola so much, but I do look at it and I usually read a bit of it when I'm performing.

My fav line: Infant Jesus at my breast, Nothing in this world is true.
There's a version on Youtube of everything these days, ain't there?

I am feeling very sentimental at night when Isaac's getting settled for bed. I guess I will miss this season... he makes little hummy sounds until I sing him something. He also giggles if I lift his feet & drop them, and bats away my hand if I play with his ears. They're hard to leave alone, who could blame me?

Almost ChristMishmash

2008-12-09T22:42:00.000-08:00

Okay, the holidays are screaming through our calendars and I haven't had a second to think. It's just the way it is for musicians, or at least for musicians who want to buy stuff. Here are some things I've seen in the last few months that I'd like to either remember or forget.

A very bad Messiah bass singing with the face of a perpetually stunned fish.

A wind player who laughs with no sound except rushing air. And it's oddly loud and usually pretty long. Maybe it's some kind of fancy diaphramatic exercise? Everyone looks at their feet kinda when she does it, because she's a nice person with a strange laugh.

Toby declaring "I think maybe Isaac needs a nap" when he was only crying because Toby pushed him.

Toby spontaneously patting Isaac's head and saying, "I love eeyooou." He always uses his really high-pitched voice to say that.

Isaac growling & clicking his tongue at my Mom. They have their own special language, those animals.

A conductor who turned completely away from half the orchestra and then couldn't figure out why we didn't follow his strange tempo adjustments. Somehow I did not find his shoulderblades musically inspiring.

A very sweet slightly challenged man trying to give me and my pianist a copy of his paper after a recital so we could read the article about animals he had found interesting. This man (white, mid-40's, glasses & plaid shirt) had salt & pepper hair with a trim beard and a few long fat dreadlocks hanging down his back. They looked like afterthoughts, and I'm pretty sure they just kind of happened to this guy. Otherwise until he spoke you would have thought from his look that he was a professor of geology or an engineer.

An empty spot on my calendar... this Saturday! We are going off the grid to mangle us up a tree.

Step ball change, LEAP.

2008-11-30T13:48:00.000-08:00

We are touching down occasionally in our own home lately. Between out of town gigs that take us to my parents' awesome home and visiting loved ones in Montana, and more out of town gigs for the next ten days, we are seldom in one place for long. Which is actually quite wonderful until somebody gets sick.

I think I'm getting mastitis. Do NOT google that, unless you enjoy seeing disgusting boob pictures spewed out by the internetia. It's kind of like a cold in your milktation machinery. It makes you feel like you have the flu and mono all wrapped up in one painfully hot packet. Thank you sir, may I have another? Poor Isaac can't figure out why I turn into a stone of tension and grimace every time he needs a topping off.

I am really really looking forward to December 13th, the last day of my duties and obligations thus far. This is the first year in a while when I couldn't care less that I'm not playing a single Nutcracker. We'll just get the DVD from the library and call it good.

Tapped out.

2008-11-21T16:37:00.000-08:00

I'm feeling really crusty and dried up inside, my brain is practically rattling out of my head like a stray kernel of rice shaken off a high chair cover on sushi night.

We're heading to Montana, beating a hasty retreat to the land of (another set of) doting grandparents. I'm looking forward to hours of both imps strapped safely into carseats. Don't tell any good parents, but I'm bringing earplugs and I'll be snoring by the time we hit the Gorge for sure.

Happy Thanksgiving if I don't make it back by here.

Toby would like to thank God for the bees, rainbows, Jesus, and wheels that go around and around.
Amen.

He probably gets less crap than violists.

2008-11-21T08:34:00.001-08:00

It's happening again...

2008-11-20T08:10:00.000-08:00

I can totally agree with those types who want to slow down the holiday season, to take time and savor a few shining events with loved ones rather than pack in a shindig a day like a girl scout on her way to her Domestic Overcommitment badge. I see the idea of orchestrated simplicity in my family life fly past on my way to reality every November or so. In fact every single month I get a couple of beautiful magazines packed with somebody's long-massaged idea about how to make every corner of my life a paradigm of organized loveliness. Your home represents you, your schedule displays what you value, the enlightened move calmly from moment to carefully cherished moment and you better too, they confide tastefully from within their manicured covers.

Zaniness at this time of year is just the way it is when you are a classical musician. Even folks who don't have much of a relationship with the great composers and all the variety of styles within the big C will recognize bits of the Messiah and think of the holidays. They make a tradition of going to a holiday concert, so we put on a bazillion concerts at the holidays. As a Christian I think it has something to do with people's inbuilt desire to be a part of creative endeavors and to celebrate something corporately. Of course if you really want to get into worship and music in popular culture, there's always rock.

I see another striking similarity between classical music and religion in that people like it for the ceremony. There is muted controversy there, some classical musicians bucking for a collective toss to the dumpster of their formal tails and fussy hall atmospheres. (I myself let it all hang out here whenever possible.) The entire relevant church movement (from the very earliest days to right this postmodern second) are in the same kind of battle between respecting tradition and finding modern immediacy in their expressions.

I had a little epiphany the other day at a bar watching some folks struggle through a very late Beethoven movement. It's THE Beethoven movement, actually. It is life and death, consonance and dissonance all wrapped up and knitted together with complex strands the way only Beethoven and little sonny Jesus ever could. Some members of this group had a tougher time than others and yes, there are moments in any performance of this nature where the listener is just hoping they make it through to the next phrase and get on with it. But as I sat there watching them help each other through and heard them come to more than one True thing.

Whatever you do this season, however busy you get, my advice is to cling to those odd moments when things are True and run with them. For me at this season, simplicity is a myth but Truth is everywhere.

Mama's leetle friend.

2008-11-18T12:22:00.000-08:00

Last week we met Piccolo*, a student at the college where I teach who likes to babysit. She came over while I was home, I went upstairs in my slippers with my coffee and practiced for 2 1/2 hours. In a row. Alone. I also did a load of laundry, ran the dishwasher and cleaned the toilets. Alone.

This week I painted some furniture, organized dinner, went through all of Isaac's clothes and agreed to a gig. Alone.

It is so incredibly rejuvenating, I cannot tell you how much those few hours mean to me. She's great. She reads to them, keeps Toby in line and makes Isaac giggle. I made her coffee, fed Isaac (duh) and even changed both boys' diapers over the course of the morning. She would, but I'm flitting around anyway and I know they both excel at wrestling. Still, that little window of time when I know I'll be able to do my own thing... it's like a shower after camping.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not dreaming of time away from my boys and we would not have a nanny even if we were the Warbucks. There is no doubt in my mind that it's a big deal to be able to be with them and not schlepping off to some factory or working nights. But I am totally certain that this makes me a better mom. I'm pretty sure they like seeing a different face every once in a while, too.

My parents (and J's too, when they're in town!) have also had a profound impact on these first years for our family. They spend four or five hours with the boys on my teaching days- and on the zillions of other days when we make up a reason to head their way. I can't imagine doing this on my own, and I'm just floored with gratitude for all these people helping us along the way.

*Not her real name, and not a descriptor- to the contrary, she's laid-back. Seems more like a clarinetist but who am I to tell her she plays the wrong instrument. That comes next week...

Composers

2008-11-17T08:43:00.000-08:00

I played on the most amazing student recital yesterday. This senior composition student brought together a string quartet, a random quintet, an OPERA, and a few other solo works. She rehearsed them all, got over seventy people to attend the recital (that alone is literally stunning) and made every performer a gingersnap with our name written on it in frosting. We all have a thirty minute recording slot on Wednesday.

She should run for president- this woman is organized and gets people to agree to all sorts of things.

I've been really enjoying playing lately. There seem to be phases for that, like any job I suppose. While there's always a certain functional satisfaction to performing, I savor these times when even practicing is appealing to me.

J is probably laughing at my tra-la attitude after listening to me practice the trio I'm playing Friday. It's by a nutty Romanian composer and was composed in 1990. Kurtag is a big name in contemporary classical music (not necessarily the whitest hottest kind of fame) but he put things in the viola part that are impossible to play. This is not hyperbole; it is physically not doable and would have garnered any composition student a lower grade. I guess over the last few months of rehearsing and practicing I thought I would come up with something to approximate his requests, but no such miracle has occurred. Sometimes you get the feel of a piece and can fill in a bit of musical vocabulary for the composer if he's written clumsily, but this... well. Just look:

Vrrrroooooom there goes my ego.

2008-11-05T12:45:00.000-08:00

Lots of people have noticed that having little kids around makes holidays more fun, and it's one of the few things you hear about parenting that is entirely true. It's cool to have an excuse to spoil them and break our schedule, and it's neat to have a reminder to emphasize whatever it is you like best about each day.

It's also fun for me to indulge my crafty, time-consuming wonts. I made Toby a big diaper-box model of his favorite car (a green Dodge Charger), which he promptly refused to wear despite his deep love "It's YOUR car, for You." Pronouns are tricksters for the two year old mind.

Funny thing about Toby's costume. It actually kinda made us miss Halloween. I lost myself in the green felt and black duct tape so much that I let the boys sleep extra long in their naps and we got a late start driving to J's office for the annual cute-kid parade & candy fest. I was honestly really annoyed and disappointed about that, but there's not much you can do when you leave only 35 minutes for a 50 minute drive. Part of me was so selfish as to think I shouldn't have bothered making the dang costume in the first place... until I saw Toby playing with it. He really hasn't stopped playing with it since that night. He's asked to take it to bed. The point is, was I making it for him or to show off to a bunch of near-strangers? In the end I decided a little self-indulgence is okay, but real joy in parenting comes when you give selflessly, just like in real life. Even if he hadn't loved it, I did enjoy the making, and thinking about his cute little proclivities all along.

Isaac was a pumpkin (99 cents last year from Old Navy!), and I could have died from the cuteness when Toby kept calling him "punkin', he's a little punkin' in derrr". I am such a sucker- you'll have to remind me not to fall for their adorable scams when they're older. Like next year.

Toby had his first bunch of candy and as far as I can tell he likes berries, rice popcorn and hot dogs better. He did like the Skittles but went around the room feeding them to all of us, so it must not have been as mindblowing as the actual fruits. He also had some rad bugs to play with from Gramma.

In a wild humor

2008-11-04T16:22:00.001-08:00

Me- That is NOT funny, Toby.
Toby- Deee dee dooooo da HAHAHAHAHA.

The above conversation happens a LOT. And he actually sings his part. And we have been awakened to Mwahahahahahaha in a surprisingly low and rhythmic voice from the next room more than once this week.

I'm just hoping he doesn't pick up any foul language while we watch election results tonight. I kid. Mwahaha!

Happy Halloween!

2008-10-31T08:41:00.000-07:00

In honor of the day, Toby and I watched a little Youtube. We started with Jesus is My Friend (the parody song from a few posts back) and then found this:

If I had skillz I'd make a Totoro outfit for myself but instead I think I'll be a stop light, since I'm making Toby a car. If any of it works, there will be pictures.

He works off the script.

2008-10-29T14:45:00.000-07:00

In line the other day to buy another vat of fat free milk from Costco, Toby was jabbering away and showing his red Hotwheel to anyone who glanced toward his perch in the seat of the cart. The couple behind us totally fell for it and started asking him about it.

Toby- Whheeeeels. It's got wheeeeeels on der.
Couple- Oh wow. That's a cool car.
Toby- Yuuuup. It's wwwwred.
Couple- So, how old are you?
Toby- Blank stare, kicking feet...
I show him how to put up two fingers and say "Two".
Toby- Holding up just his index, "Fffthrrrreeee!"

Pumpkin Patching!

2008-10-28T10:29:00.000-07:00

I know I am perverse, but I love that first picture of us. Toby is struggling to get out of J's lap, J is struggling to keep Toby from accidentally whacking Isaac in the head with his foot, Isaac is adoring Toby and I'm frowning and my lips are all tense and wrinkly. It's been like that around here about 15% of the time, though the remaining 80% we're happy and Toby is funny and sweet. The last 5% is reserved for sleeping, but all team members have not committed to that quite yet.

We are not ourselves.

2008-10-27T17:12:00.000-07:00

We have joined the ranks of parents whose children are not contained by mere cribs. Did I already tell you we found a toddler bed without a stitch of pastel advertising on it? I can't remember through the lack of sleep haze...

In truth our guy has not tested us much at night, mostly because we are lazy and have pretty much Toby-proofed his room. We let him galavant unless it gets particularly raucous and then start taking away hotwheels or, in the direst of situations, the firetruck blanket.

In effect, he has quiet time in the afternoon from 2pm to whenever, and while we prefer him to sleep we'll take non-damaging letting off of steam. At night if we hear him past 9:30 (he goes in at 8pm) then we start making with the stern voices and removal of beloved objects.

Last night I realized with a laugh that outside his room there is a collection of confiscatia: a big blue toybox once use to climb to the windowsill and the changing table (ONCE!), an impressive pile of... well, here- take a look:

And here are the miscreants in person. Isaac has just sneezed and is tipping backwards but don't worry, he missed the wall and didn't even cry. You would be a happy guy, too, if you got snacks at 2am and 6am. Someday he'll thank me for telling the internet all about his infantile habits.

...

2008-10-13T22:36:00.000-07:00

...crickets, I know.

I have pictures to post and a door to door sales person to tell you about and even a couple of thoughts I found that had rolled under the sofa. They're a little linty, but they're mine. I will probably get around to scrutinizing them soon.

I have to go to bed now because in the morning I have to convince a two year old that having your eyes dilated isn't annoying and that you should leave a funky eye patch alone while the opthalmologist makes you look at little pictures of phones like you've never seen (OLD SCHOOL, with a receiver handset and everything) and then accidentally plays a scary section of Cars. Right after accidentally playing a scary section of Snow White (remember, with the trees and the old hag?).
Did you know they use movies to get kids to focus on a certain distance? Well, now you do.

And that's something.

Zap!

2008-10-04T23:27:00.001-07:00

Also, Dave Crowder Band* has a version posted. But watch this first.

Canned goods.

2008-09-24T23:52:00.001-07:00

It's funny, but not, how when Isaac wakes up that THIRD time each night my brain starts to leak out my ears.

That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

Sorry for this short and empty post, but I just canned a kapillion tomatoes and played an opera. I figured a crummy post is better than no post at all.

Playing Softballs

2008-09-15T16:23:00.000-07:00

We're doing La Traviata (it's about hookers!) over the next few weeks here in the Land of Port, and it's been completely enjoyable. I think the orchestra sounds like a different (different better!) group this year.

The music is mostly stupid-easy in the viola parts and that can sometimes mean it's also physically painful. When you are the Oom or the pah-pah for two pages straight, your body tends to get tired of it. It's not bad music, thankfully, but it could easily become tedious in rehearsal if you had a dumb conductor.

We don't!

This guy is great- I don't know how I've missed him, and I'm glad to be playing for him now. First and foremost, he doesn't talk at us when he could be conducting but he does tell enough charming anecdotes to be human. Secondly, he is musical and loves his job. Third, and sort of a rehashing of point one: he actually told us not to write in too much as he may do something different the next time through. And he does! Clearly!

I also finally feel as though I am getting to know some of the area locals. It's hard when you're freelancing to feel much of a connection to any community but I think maybe I'm on the brink of something there. Such a one-eighty from last fall.

If my blog falls dormant in the woods...

2008-09-12T01:32:00.000-07:00

Dang! I can't believe I've devolved into one of those blogs. Posting infrequently, mostly fluff and kid pictures. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I had sort of enjoyed thinking I was writing something more every so often.

I have been thinking a lot lately about audience and motivation. Every little thing I say to Toby (tons of jabbering, pleading and whining happen in our house daily and much of it is on my end), everything I play, stuff I write. It's interesting how those things are all changed by their audience or my perception of them. Since I believe Jesus Christ was who he said he was and that what he did enables me to actually converse with the creator of the universe, well... I'm having trouble finishing that sentence. And not just on my blog.

Yep. Interesting. But it's 1:36am and I need to go to sleep... now.

Truffles revisited

2008-09-05T12:27:00.000-07:00

I am making these truffles for the reception after a recital tomorrow. They're fun to make, nice & messy. I briefly considered letting Toby help, but came to my senses when I thought about the many food safety issues and the potential for a kitchen encrusted with Oreo goo. I am nowhere near that much fun as a mom.

I found out yesterday that students at my college don't have any casual performance opportunities. They practice all semester and perform only when they are being evaluated at the end, either for a grade or for scholarship funds. That is a shame, and I think I'll try to do something about it by instituting some kind of noon performance time.

Music is for performing, or nothing at all.

Currents

2008-09-04T09:06:00.001-07:00

We're currently experiencing busy days and sleepy nights. An actual post will be up soon.

Meanwhile, look! The weather is perfect, and the train table is finally painted.

Request

2008-08-19T23:59:00.001-07:00

***UPDATE!***
Tim is feeling better and is finished with some unpleasant treatments, so yay. We're still praying for Rachael to be able to relax and not obsess about the darker possibilities of the past few weeks. The doctor believes it was a one-time thing and that Tim should never ever pick up a cigarette again. Well, duh, Tim. (We love you!) He isn't even much of a smoker, but there it is.

They are moving on to bigger and better things, with a baby kicking like mad and a baby shower on the horizon. So thanks for your prayer, internet. Keep it coming, we all appreciate it and need it in this crazy world.

Hey everyone who might happen by here.
Could you pray for my friend Tim and his wife, Rachael? He had a blot clot problem tonight and is in the ER. She's about 6 months pregnant and beside herself, of course. They are good friends, crazy wacko artsy intense goofball types and two of the best I've ever met... prayer would be good.

Olympics, Baby

2008-08-11T16:21:00.000-07:00

The Olympics are a little sip of caffeine for my mood. I love to watch people do well, focus, do so-so, lose well, flip out, talk trash and lose it all. It's like classical music but popular.

Michael Phelps has to be one of the most spectacular pieces of humanity ever to train himself silly. All the swimmers are ridiculous. Gymnasts, too. It's impressive, really, that these people found what they are built for and then focused on it to the extent that they are able to do things no one else has.

I love the sports where things are concrete: you went faster, or not. Unlike performing in artistic endeavors, there is no room for subjective critique. Obviously, I like the arts. It's just that years (and years. And... seriously, 20 years since high school? CRAP!) of training can ALLLLLLmost squash out of a person the ability to enjoy their pursuits without constantly looking for the next thing to improve. All professional musicians I've ever grilled about this answer the same way: maintaining an unjaded love for your music is a life-long challenge. It sucks to turn on the radio and instantly wonder who is playing so you can catalogue them and anything you don't like about their playing in your own mental podium race for BEST, instead of squealing with joy that they are even playing a viola concerto on the air in front of civilians.

I used to love the done-or-not-done quality of dishes and laundry, too, but somehow that has begun to fade.

The best thing about the Olympics, hands down, is that I always have something to hum to the boys. Toby was born during the winter Olympics of '06, Isaac's 4.5 months old now but likes to sleep like a much younger man. So there are anthems, themes, all sorts of snippets of grand tunes floating around even through the clouds of sleep deprivation. I love that main theme- thank you, Mr. Williams, you hummable themey genius you.

DOOOOO DEEEEEEEE Dee DUH! DUH! DUH! DUH! DEEM DEEE Dee DEEE.....

Peepers

2008-08-04T14:07:00.000-07:00

Toby's getting glasses. They are made of flexible blue plastic and have unfortunate round rims. When they come in, I'll take pictures of us wrestling him to the ground and applying them directly to his forehead.

I think my gear shifter is broken. Toby loves to play with that kind of thing- he probably got ahold of it at some point and wrenched it clean off. I am no longer able to adjust gracefully between the roles I fill at home and those in the musical world. I'm just kinda tense about both instead. But hey, I can still get around despite my higher mileage and at least I'm paid for.

Organize and simplify

2008-07-26T21:47:00.000-07:00

I think Toby has caught the whole Live Simply (tm) Organize (tm) Declutter (tm) fad. He's got the bug. I often come around the corner to find a row of something, like this:

Or this:

He has his priorities straight. Keeps his grandparents close and his toys closer, even when running through their sprinkler.

This is not to say he doesn't let loose every once in a while. I believe his exact words were:
I taked apart a sanwich! I would like another!!

Unfortunately for him, however, it is clear he shares our genes.
He can't hide his freak flag forever.

Going green

2008-07-10T17:46:00.000-07:00

There is a tiny little dot exactly between wanting all the area's classical enterprises to have an audition in the fall and wanting them all to just hold their horses a bit longer (a year longer, maybe). I am that dot.

Auditions would motivate me, even though there are only a couple of groups here I truly want to join. I still have to play all the auditions in case I feel like playing or in case I feel like buying shoes.

Last weekend I did a wedding gig here. I had sworn off weddings after I started daydreaming about a car wreck or an irreconcilable fight between the bride and groom preempting the nuptials so I wouldn't have to play Canon one more time. (Strychnine in the guacamole.)

Gig quartets are like a mold, spread subtly across the underpinnings of the western world. You're never more than a mile from one. The gig books alone are some kind of hermaphroditic organism. This wedding I played Saturday included the exact same five songs at the exact same moments in the exact same kind of ceremony I have played on the opposite side of the states. They all have these sad feed-lot cow pieces in their books; most even have the same horrible arrangements.

Molds reproduce using spores. I suppose those could be the few self-arranged tunes a group pulls out when the reception has gotten too loud for anybody to hear anyway. Led Zepplin maybe, or the Beatles. Lots of groups keep a second binder of actual real legitimate quartet works: late Mozarts, early Beethovens and the occasional Piazzola. These are usually the things the quartet really wants to play, the things that keep them from "accidentally" driving over nails on their way to the outdoor wedding on a hot day. These give us hope that we'll be able to use some of our artistry in addition to our coping skills and keep us from all spontaneously taking up something lucrative. Like becoming a Hummer salesperson.

It's hard to get connected to musicians when you haven't joined any group full time. Most are running around, drumming up work or working every chance they get or practicing for work or looking for friends from work on facebook. You know the drill. So that made it comforting, somehow, to tuck into my very own Violin III part on Canon, to emote shamelessly through Bach's Air (not on my G-String) and come out the other end with a nice check to put toward diapers.

I was happy to be part of something even if it has the musty smell of sameness.
World Wide Wedding Quartet (n):
multiple, genetically identical nuclei and is considered a single organism, referred to as a colony. Spreading soon to a ceremony near you.

WFMW- Labels make me happy

2008-07-09T12:23:00.000-07:00

This post is part of Shannon's Works For Me Wednesday Series.

I have fallen in love with my labeler. It's a cheap little gizmo that smells slightly of the 70's and it makes a satisfying ca-clunk as each letter is made. Also, it can do the following:

1. Nifty looking gifts: wrap the gift in brown shipping wrap or an inside-out grocery bag. At Christmas I taped the seams with colorful and cheap electrician's tape to continue the minimalist look. Make a label with the recipient's name and slap it on there. I like them just like that, but if you add a few frills it will look... frillier.

2. Label your file folders, especially those for daily sorting use. I find myself much more likely to use a file if I like the way it looks and it's clearly marked. I suppose I'm shallow that way. Disregard the crummy focus point of this photo. Thank you.

3. If you like plain jars of hand soap, labeling is nice so visitors don't end up all slimed with lotion by mistake. I am jonesing for a bunch of one-gallon glass canning jars. I will put them on their sides on a shelf in my garage with their contents labeled on the lid: white rice, brown rice, rare gems, wheat germ, etc. It will look neat and my housewife stock will go up 2 tenths of a point at least.

4. The obvious- your name and number can go on stuff you'd rather not lose. iPods, stuff you loan out like books and dvds, it all looks more formal with a strip of brightly colored tape. This here's my car Bible, and I figured I'd better label it for when I take it into churches filled with post-modern emerging church Word stealing-types. For all I know they might take mine and hand it out to somebody on the street, and we can't have that, now can we.

5. Here's the best thing for you muthaz. Use it to label your kid's drink cups! This totally warrants that exclamation because I've run it through the washer like four times and it's still there. When you do want them off, there's no sticky gross mess. And, I think pre-readers can find their own cup more easily when you put their name on with this. Is it because nobody else's mama is nearly so anal? Maybe, but they will have their water and that's all that matters.

Epilogue: You can get carried away, so try to limit your daily labeling to one or two items.

No good very bad day.

2008-07-08T21:31:00.000-07:00

I didn't practice.
I don't practice enough lately.
I don't even take my viola if it's just an overnighter anymore.

And everyone was crying at naptime. Everyone.

We had such a good thing going, but then it turns out he isn't having any fun in preschool, and my expensive-ass mixer broke, and Isaac cried so long in the carseat that Toby finally joined in, and my parents are having kind of a tough time, and he wants to learn to use the bathroom but I'm not sure how to teach that yet, and Isaac bites even though he's all gums (gums of steel), and Toby climbs out of his crib six thousand times a day. I have to talk to him like Hitler must have talked to a mosquito buzzing in his ear as he tried to sleep.

I hope he doesn't remember today, but then again what does it matter: there will be more days like this. How do you ask for grace from a toddler?

Firstsss

2008-07-05T21:38:00.000-07:00

Our weekend has been unexpectedly busy, an abundance of good things to do.

Toby decided to join in by trying out some firsts.

1. First jello. Lime. I believe he would have liked to eat his weight in it.

2. First time climbing out of his bed at home. He's been in a pack-n-play since birth. It has no slats to climb, and he has not tried this with his bed yet. Once upon a mattress... Do you think this'll keep him in his room?

3. First (coincidental?) successful use of the toilet. We have not started training him, but he asked us if he could sit on the pot and who are we to say no? Maybe he read my blog. I suppose I will be googling all sorts of strange things tonight, things I never anticipated willfully reading.

Here's the dastardly duo plotting parental domination.

Lightning bug

2008-07-03T14:47:00.000-07:00

Both these photos are from last year's trip to Wallowa Lake.

Last night we had the best thunder storm. The lightning was striking all around and above us, sometimes almost at the exact moment the bedroom lit up. Through all of this I was shocked that, while J and I lay there awake and drowsily enjoying the show, both boys slept. I won't say "like babies" because that would mean they woke repeatedly and needed help to relax. No, they slept like teenagers.

Storms have always had a special place in my psyche. When I was around 5 we lived on the outskirts of Helena, Montana in a house with a spectacular second story balcony providing a view of the valley and the lights of the city in the distance. It was a pretty vista even on an average day, but what sticks in my mind was that we would all sit on it after dinner and watch the lightning sweep across the scrubbily junipered sage speckled bowl. I loved everything about storms, from the way your chest walls reverberate sympathetically (Shostakovich 5 has tympani parts that do this) to the loamy smell. It always smelled like fresh clean earthworms to me. Wrinkle your nose if you will, I was a rock-overturning child and still appreciate buggy things.

When I was a little older, both Poltergeist and Firestarter made gathering storms seem even more important. The insane weather was one of the few things I enjoyed of my freshman year of college in Texas.

Like escaping for a few hours while somebody else takes the be-diapered reins, something about a storm makes me feel wild oaty. I wish Portland saw more of them.

WFMW- Teriyaki Salmon, Meatballs

2008-07-02T20:45:00.001-07:00

This is for a food-themed Works for Me Wednesday. If you've been looking for good dishes with five or fewer ingredients, click on over there and enjoy the links. I'm sure I'll be printing a bunch of new stuff for my kitchen binder tonight.

Here's mine:

1. Teriyaki Salmon
Ingredients:
Salmon fillet (steak would work, too)
Soy Sauce
Mirin*

Line one of those shallow square brownie-type pans with tin foil.
Pour the soy sauce and mirin together at a ratio of about 1:2. So if you pour 1/3 cup of soy sauce, use 2/3 cup of mirin. Put the fish in the prepared dish with the marinade. You want just enough liquid to wet the whole fish and have a nice little pool around it, though while you marinate more's okay. If you have a very big fillet (like one of them Costco half-a-fish fillets), you'll obviously need more.

Let the fish marinate for anywhere from 30 minutes to a couple hours. Pour off most of the liquid and leave just enough juice for that little pool we mentioned. Cover the top with foil, too.

When you're ready, heat your oven to 375 and cook about 15 minutes. Remove the top foil and cook another 5-15 minutes, until the fish flakes when you poke the thickest part with a fork.

OR lightly oil your grill and cook the salmon there. You can even use some oiled foil in the grill if you like- of course, you won't have the little pool here, though.
*Mirin is a sweet Japanese cooking wine available in most grocery stores, but if you don't want to bother (even though it's totally worth having some on hand) I think you could improvise with cooking wine and a few tbsp brown sugar instead.

2. Lunch Party Meatballs
1 Big Bag Italian Style Frozen Meatballs (those Costco suckers work great)
1 Medium (10 oz or so) Jar Grape Jelly
2 Jars 12 ounce Chili Sauce (a ketchup-like substance found in the ketchup aisle)

This recipe is eminently half-able, and as far as I can tell the proportions aren't super critical anyway. I've even heard tales of folks using Ketchup instead of chili sauce and adding a few spices (cayenne? garlic salt? chives? probably.) with some success.

Put all the above in a crock pot. Cook for about 4 hours on low, stirring once or twice. Remember, don't open the pot more than that lest lots of the heat escape.

These are super popular at baby showers, pass-a-dish parties, and the leftovers (if you have any) are good for sandwiches or on rice. Put out some fancy toothpicks and cute napkins and you're good to go.

The Hoods are here!

2008-06-28T14:31:00.000-07:00

Toby loves his hoodies. Not the hip shirts with hoods you see on all the young doods and petty criminals, no those I don't like because of the miniscule teeny wee chance he may catch it on something. You've seen The Incredibles?
Remember her rant re: capes? Nnnno hoods. Too dangerous, dahling.

Ennywho, the hoodies I mean are strawberries! Mount Hood STRAWBERRIES!! I can type it loud because he's sleeping, this human who once burst into tears of longing when we drove past a large strawberry billboard. As you can imagine, we don't mind an obsession with healthy and affordable finger fruits but we still regularly spell rather than utter the word "berry" unless we have the goods to represent.

So today we bopped up to the library to pick up some books on hold (one on the creative disciplines and another on creative discipline. It's where we at.) and zipped over to the farmers market across the way. I am using fun verbs because actually we schlumped our sweaty cranky unpleasantly clinging way over there, wilted little pasty white family that we are. It's hotter than Wil Smith's abs here today. I am running the A/C with wanton fiduciary abandon. Whee.

So we picked up the 1/2 flat and tried to hoof it back to the air conditioned marvel of diesel sucking engineering in a manner that would get us there very quickly but would not cause my inner thighs to spontaneously combust. It's like the running-in-the-rain dilemna, but lamer. It's similar to that walk we all do when trying to score the next spot in a line without looking like a pushy jerk: casually, coincidentally, noncommittally swift.

I believe it was worth all the dehydration just to see the look on his red stained gob. I refrained from yelling, No no no, you don't just hork it down! But realized one animated movie reference per day is enough. Besides, they are sooo horkable.

The Crappening

2008-06-27T10:43:00.000-07:00

Just shake it off, M. Night. I know you're better than that. I am one of the four viewers who even liked The Village. Heck, I enjoyed Lady in the Water- that was a real movie, I didn't daydream that one, right?

I'm sure you didn't mean to presume I was so stupid you needed to tell me exactly what was going to happen just before it did in your should-have-been-a-short film. Unless that's what you really meant by calling it the Happening?

I was impressed with how much you made me hate Marky Mark, because I have always liked him and his cute little abs. Yes, even back when the bunch was funky. Who knew he could do simpering wuss with so few layers.

Also, if you'd like to preach at me about the environment and mother earth, please make a video lecture instead. I've heard incorporating a scissor lift can lead to some success there. You've got the condescending tone down pat already.

Holy plot, man, that stunk.

This one goes out to the one I love...

2008-06-27T10:11:00.000-07:00

Just think, honey, we're almost there.

Back in the day...

2008-06-23T21:02:00.000-07:00

I was the worst mom at pre-preschool today.

1. We were late.
2. I forgot his bag with the all-important diaper and cup.
3. His nose apparently ran.
4. Quite a bit.
5. I was the last mom to pick up.

Thankfully he's not embarrassable yet. Soon.

He had only one melt-down today, when I tried to leave his favorite unfoldy pop-uppy car wash toy thingy on the hood of the Jeep as we drove off. I couldn't even figure out what he was pointing at while waling for a second or two. After I retrieved it he kept saying in a soft voice to himself, "of course we won't leave it, Buddy".

I caught myself asking Isaac to put his arms through the carseat straps. One, he doesn't know any of those words or have the neurons to rub together and Two, he wouldn't do it if he could- he hates that thing.

At one time I had a functional brain.

Grumpy

2008-06-17T09:11:00.001-07:00

Hummmm hum hum hummmmm.

So mostly around here we consider the "children's music" genre to be something like Siblings Day- (Did you miss it yesterday? Run out and buy some cards and stuff quick!) an artificial thing created to generate revenue for poorly crafted goods, that should be celebrated continually anyway.

I've rambled before about what we like to have on for the kids. But one guilty pleasure is to have Toby crawl into my lap when I'm on the laptop and ask for "the mujeek puhleez". I go to Noggin and we listen to a few annoying tunes.

Am I the only parent in America who doesn't care for Laurie Berkner? She seems sincere enough and all but her songs are cloying and she's out of tune. Moose and Zee, the Noggin mascots, are similarly lacking in musical quality but the music is not quite as over-perkified. I can deal with a couple of their tunes before closing the browser and telling Toby we're all done.

On a side note, I do like Lisa Loeb and wish she'd write and perform more stuff- Noggin should have put her stuff up all over. Apparently she's got a new cd, maybe they will now. I went to school with her talented blue-haired conductor brother, Ben. Nice guy.

Lately they have a new (to me) guy on there, David Weinstone from New York. I dig a couple of his songs and find him to have some redeeming musical value. He plays some nice guitar and sings with enough character & clarity to catch a child's ears (Toby comes running like I've opened a pint of strawberries). What I like most is that he still sounds like he's doing what he wants, and not what he thinks will garner him a larger share of the minivan contingent's credit card debt.

Here's Grumpy, easily one of his catchiest tunes. It's probably his most annoying to most people, I suppose, but I like it.

Happy Father's Day

2008-06-16T08:39:00.000-07:00

Father's day was fun.

We used it as an excuse to grill with my parents, which developed into an excuse to make strawberry ice cream and drink Black Butte Porter with my mom. Not that we need an excuse.

We reminisced and I realized yet again that I hope J and I can give our boys even some portion of the fun we had while growing up with our parents. Go ahead, roll your eyes internet. My college friend said we sounded like the Brady Bunch. Looking back I can hear the tinge of longing in her voice, but at the time I felt like it was just one more way in which I was a goody two shoes from a freakishly small town.

The rarity of our intact and more importantly enjoyable families isn't lost on us. Usually. Unless you're talking about me in Junior High, in which case I'll plead the fifth...

Hope you had a good day, too.

Bonding begins with 99 cent die-cast metal.

2008-06-11T17:35:00.000-07:00

Toby has taken upon himself the important task of educating Isaac about the deep importance of all things wheeled.

Isaac adores him already, and is very trusting. Plus, he likes the bouncer to bounce.

Toby's favorite pose as big brother.

Well, I never.

2008-06-11T17:14:00.000-07:00

It would be nice if, after calling and asking to see our house in 20 minutes, house hunters would at least come inside and have a look. I know it's not their fault that I ran around for 19 minutes tidying, picking up and shoving the boys (one of whom I woke from a nap) into the Jeep. But still, you could pretend you want to see it as I'm driving away instead of sitting in the driveway talking about the next place on your list.

At least the place was in order, if only for that one shining moment.

Do you think free viola lessons for a year with the purchase of our home would be an incentive or disincentive?

Aisaac

2008-06-10T09:59:00.000-07:00

I think I went back to gigging a bit too soon.

Don't get me wrong, both the orchestras I've played with this past month have been great. The first was for a conductor I adore who reminds me of a favorite uncle and we did Missa Solemnis with lovely soloists and the only thing I can think to complain of is that the venue was a shmancy catholic church and sounded exactly like a deafening bathroom. My hands would have been protecting my ears if it weren't for the viola they were full of.

Isaac was only a few weeks old at the first rehearsal for that noise, so J brought him to me at the breaks to eat. Let's take a minute and be thankful someone invented this nursing privacy blanket thingy, shall we? I'm working on making myself a couple of knock-offs so I can have one in every bag. If you have a pregnant friend who's planning to boob the kid, get them one of these puppies and I swear she'll remember you in her will.

I also played with the Portland opera, and I am trying to figure out if the woman who sang Aida sold her soul to get her voice or is simply an angel on break from the sparkling gates of heaven. She reminds me of Renee Fleming, whom I might cyber-stalk if I were a socially dysfunctional tecky dude. Amneris kicked it old school, too. I had no idea how much I enjoy Aida- it was almost never a countdown of page turns to the final notes, which really are haunting despite always being described as such by critics.

The conductor, who must be very closely related to Jerry Stiller, was fantastic. I am not kidding- these are four-hour rehearsals and the time skips by. Everyone calling him Gigi made me feel more familiar than we are, like I might bump into him at a streetside cafe in Venice, peer over my huge black sunglasses and offer to buy him a glass of wine while he fawns over my adorably precocious yet incredibly well behaved wonder children.

So why then, in the midst of all the wine and roses, did I wish I weren't working?

Isaac's early weeks were, as everyone warned, entirely different than our memory of Toby's. We joke that he had two moods: asleep and pissed. He has an adorable scowl. Once after I got stuck in old-people traffic exiting the hall's parking garage, J greeted me with a screaming baby and "What HAPPened?" before I could even put down my case. In his defense, there are few circles of hell deeper than The Baby Won't Ever Stop Screaming. Now that Isaac's got a few months under his wee little belt, the learning-a-stick-after-driving-an-automatic phase has mostly passed and we've laid off comparing every single thing he does to rosy memories of his big brother. That, and he has indeed stopped screaming. (mostly)

It surprises me, though, how much just one gig on my schedule made in the feeling of a day or even a week. He probably picked up on my tension. I've probably ruined him something awful by failing to grow my hair seven feet long and wear gingham recreationally, but he was in trouble from the beginning what with a viola being practiced within earshot and such.

In conclusion, if we have another one of these things, I hope I remember to beg off any work for the first three or four months. Even though he was only ever in my hands or his dad's and even though it was nice to get out and smell the Egyptians (Aiiiiida!).

Was that it?

2008-06-09T17:37:00.000-07:00

Was that the longest I've gone without posting? I hope so.

So what's up with you, outside world?

In our little compound it's all about placating the insane and caring for the incapacitated. Two and a half is an interesting mental arena. Nine weeks of age can be summed up as a constant state of leakage. I can truly say it keeps me busy.

I'm in the fantastic dreams and daydreams stage of post-partumdom. I hated it last time, and this time it's even peachier. Most nights just as I'm falling asleep a short scene plays doubletime, something like the opening of CSI or House but it horrifically stars either one or both of my boys. I see what's coming usually and can stop it from playing out in my hormone-pickled brain, but still it's no fun. I'll be glad when whatever gland's going off gets itself stabilized.

Whew. Well, I've been asked to come outside and clean up the 'piders. One of life's deepest pleasures has to be having a toddler come take your hand to assist in a task or complete an adventure. Sometimes it's empty webs or flecks of dirt, sometimes there are actual arachnids involved when he mentions his beloved bugs, so I better go see.

Snapshot (snapshot not included)

2008-05-14T21:23:00.000-07:00

Tonight J went for a long bike ride. It's beautiful here, mid seventies and the air feels luscious. I noticed it because it's spring, but soon I'll be taking the lusciousness for granted.

So off he pedaled with my blessing.

And what did I decide, with the day drawing to a close and the boys appropriately groggy from a day well-played? What else, but that it was time to cut Toby's hippie shag hair.

I had it all worked out in my mind, but what it became was not so tidy. At the height of the makeover, Toby's golden mane was flecked with blood from my overzealous index finger and he was steadfastly picking hair off his icee while Cars blared from the TV. Isaac was fully involved in one of his best cries yet- and that's saying something- while strapped into the inexorable baby swing. I realized as he lost it that a swing is nothing but a brightly colored automaton. I hate automatons. Gah.

So upstairs we all went, in two trips, to wash off the hair and blood and high fructose corn syrup. Toby enjoyed his bath at least as much as any other and is growing impervious to his brother's protests. I bounced the one with my foot while pajama-ing the other, prayed through increasing fussing and went through our blanket ritual despite full-tilt cryage from the newby.

I thought if someone could see nothing but my silhouette in those moments, I would look like a clown spinning a hoop on my foot while creating a whole balloon zoo with my hands. There would even be what looked like acrobatics thrown in from time to time as I reach for whatever is constantly not there- the wipes, the desitin, my martini.

So that was my evening. J returned glorious and sweaty just as the laundry began its hairy spin and the vacuum finished gagging on the remains of the Farrah Faucet tribute that Toby once maintained.

And he made me a real martini. It's right here, just inches from my hand, and everyone under 3 is asleep.

Time for some wild hot....zzzzz.

My love language is sleep.

2008-04-23T12:54:00.000-07:00

The new guy insists on getting up every two hours at night. He sleeps better during the day, mostly. When he's not waking up, he's grunting or snoring or passing gas so loud you'd think a very large man with medical problems has come for a visit. I am not a heavy sleeper.

I thought I'd be posting more than mushy fauning over my husband type of stuff now, I even had a few thoughts flit through my brain yesterday while I was driving. By the time I got home all that was left of them was the impression that there was something I meant get done on the computer.

We have our fabulous family coming to town this weekend, and rehearsals for Aida start Saturday. Both are things I'm looking forward to. The thing about sleep deprivation is that it could just cause me to jot down things my inlaws tell me in my music and bring the conductor a beer and an extra pillow. Though maybe neither would mind the switch so much, who knows?

JXY

2008-04-19T12:03:00.000-07:00

My man he is manly. I have several examples to support this conclusion: I can show the world it's not my bias talking.

ONE
Witness this morning's match pitting him against the massive pile of twisty phone line that is the Community Center Sign Up Day. I dialed for two pleasantly mind-numbing hours, from just before 8 am. I can recite the exact tone and inflection with which the woman kept answering, "All circuits are busy now...".

But my man, he dialed the land line and his cell phone like a pro. If our lives are ever made into a movie, his dialing will be slo-mo and will include percussive explosion sounds for emphasis as his fingers depress the buttons with such testosterone and focus. So of course he got through. And we got all of our classes- take that, other moms desperate for a slot in Teacher Laurie's Friday class.

TWO
Last night I played a concert. Isaac won't be the magical age of bottle-suckage (four weekies) until Sunday night. So he cried and cried for the last little bit of waiting, maybe from hunger, maybe because he enjoys a good wail now and then. My man slowly lost his manly mind BUT he was nice to the banshee. When I offered to go buy him some beer, he even paused a second before subtly enquiring if the wee noodie would be accompanying me. That kind of casual restraint, it is rare and precious.

THREE
After his rough night, one which would bring any mortal man's shoulders up around his ear-holes in wound-up tension, HE rubbed MY feet.

As I type, he is rocking the Iz's bouncer to keep him pacified.

Masculine. With a million Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmms.

2008-04-10T21:51:00.000-07:00

After an absence from blogging, it seems a post of some depth would be required. Too bad!

We are honestly having a great time with Isaac. He is so beautiful, I can and do stare at him literally for hours.

Toby has been very casual about the whole thing. At the hospital he was enamored of J's banana muffin and could have cared less that a new wee sheriff was in the room. For the first two days after we came home, he ran around like his pants were on fire in a spot-on imitation of tired-hungry-hyper Toby. After that he's been his two year-old self. He actually offered Isaac his blanket once or twice. This is the Toby equivalent of the shirt off his back, so we were impressed.

We have so much help it's almost embarrassing. Mom and Dad are Toby's playmate slaves of choice and they also do a mean job pampering us with beer & sherbert-stocked fridges and same-day laundry service. I think we'll have a bunch more kids just to score the sweet set-up. But J can be the pregnant one this time.

I'm too lazy to get my USB chord and camera to post any more pictures... but wait! My phone is by my foot, and I think I might have something cute in there somewhere... yep:

Piles of Isaac

2008-03-25T22:27:00.000-07:00

Look how little! And he can already blow kisses.

Rad hair, baaaaaad attitude.

Imitating mama in labor.

Heart-shaped nostrils, special ordered.

Mwah.

Isaac Thomas

2008-03-24T21:16:00.000-07:00

March 24, 3:35am
8 lbs 10 oz
21.5 inches

We're all happily lazing in our hospital suite, letting them do the laundry and cooking for a couple of nights. Plus I like the bendy bed. Everything went perfectly and I am so pleased to meet him.

Thank God!

Same, you?

2008-03-20T10:31:00.001-07:00

Sorry, I got nothin.

I hope we'll have news and pictures and gushing of all sorts soon.

You must be at least 76% as sick of hearing that as I am of saying it.

POV

2008-03-14T09:30:00.000-07:00

{Should you be so curious, you'll have to click the pics to enlarge and see the pirate ship in the first one and the relevant text in the second.}

Pirate stories, especially the Shanghai-ed variety, are fun because people are often whisked away from the daily grind and forced into a complete otherness of perspective. When I was a kid I daydreamed about being kidnapped by the circus or transported back to Mozart's time (where I would be the best player EVER and would also understand that rats carry the plague) or I would be taken on some kind of adventure in which my family would unknowingly be saved by my incredible horsemanship and Wonder Woman costume. I was (was?) a daydreamy kid. Mom often had to remind me to "stop dawdling" and put on my other sock as I sat on my bed in a reverie on school days.

The hijacking of my life by my family feels a bit like one of these imaginary sagas. Daring situations come up, new characters are introduced, the path just gets randomer. Today it occurred to me that I like it that way. Call it a new flood of hormones on an already swollen sea, but the next year is looking more like a beacon and less like a burden by the day.

I recently posted a 35 x 35 list of things I wanted to do before turning 35 in May. That pipe dream has been revised as I have been busy doing much more important things like building a human being in my middle and eating several tankards of refined sugar daily. So, as owner-operator of this whole shebang, I have revised my list and expanded the deadline such that these things are now to be completed throughout my 35th year.

Just to avoid boring you to death, I'll refrain from including my list here, but maybe it will show up somewhere later if I find it motivating. My mom's not so likely to remind me to keep going with this, so maybe I'll be off on other trails and May 2009 will come and go without a whimper. I think I'll stay tuned to find out. You can see the old version here. For the record, I've completed 4.267 out of 35. That's 12.19 percent.

Heart wide open, fully invested life is all a matter of your POV.

Week 38 Round-up

2008-03-11T14:56:00.000-07:00

I've caught that dreaded third-trimester bug, you know, the one where the preggo cannot stop watching Discovery Health shows involving rare disorders and high-risk deliveries. I have a few hours to myself right now and I spent part of it wallowing in frightening medical possibilities, with Toby at the Aumsville toddler ranch while I take care of some high powered (cough) viola career-related jockeying and teach a student in Portland. Mostly I had my bible study come over and also had tea with my pianist while we talked about what we wanna play this year.

As to my balance of ambition/parenting dilemnas, I think I have found a partial solution for at least the next few years. My focus will turn to my duo, building the viola studio at the college, and to opportunities I can arrange for myself. Those are the things I enjoy most artistically anyway. Those are also the most easily self-driven aspects of classical freelancing and they afford me the most control. I would rather put my energy there than in drumming up gigs and networking, though there are a few ensembles I will always agree to play when they call.

A brilliant friend reminded me about grace this week- and especially that it can include the ability to be okay with a different circumstance than one has planned. This relinquishment of control and trust in grace applies both in sacrifice and in receipt of energies and abilities.

A phrase from a song lyric has been rattling around my head: heart wide open. I want that in these preschool, busy, boring, frenetic, rapid adaptation years. In the three most important years of my life (marriage, Toby's birth, and now Isaac's arrival) I've always longed for the ability to be present, to slow down, to remember and absorb my own days.

I tease and complain about pregnancy, but I hope I don't forget what it's like to actually contain all this life, otherness, potential.

And I hope he comes soon.

Zoot!

2008-03-07T17:40:00.000-08:00

Toby's old enough now to actually notice and enjoy the animals. In the last pic he's demonstrating his look of deep concentration. Wonder how he'll look at his brother for the first time... and when- WHEN?! WHENNNNN???!!!

Recent Viewings

2008-03-06T09:18:00.000-08:00

We've seen a lot of movies lately. Each time my parents volunteer to have us stay, we like to swing over to a theater after Toby's gone to bed. Or sometimes Dad will go with us and Mom and Toby have play-time on the ranch. She's particular about movies, and we take all comers, so it works out nicely.

The Departed: C+. Is it just me, or does Scorsese pull a wiggle of his enormous eyebrows and at the very end make fun of the audience for taking this movie seriously? There are good performances, of course (Leonardo, Marky despite his hideous hair), but generally I think if I was a writer for this film I'd be ticked. I don't mind shoot-em-ups, but Reservoir Dogs this ain't. It felt like an ad for the Scorcesian style, the movie itself be damned.

Be Kind, Rewind: B+. I really like wonky movies centered on characters rather than tidy plots. And it's well-known I have a thing for Jack Black's style. My personal jury is out on director Gondry (LOVED Eternal Sunshine, and all those Bjork videos, but not so sure about Science of Sleep) and there are certainly some cliches of his own style in this. He has this one habit of setting up little scenes and then walking the camera along them horizontally, like a child would move from room to room of a doll-house or diorama. He seems also to like things that wiggle: fingers, children, streamers. If you want your movie to make a moral statement and to have an easily discernible plot structure/form, you probably won't like this. His pacing is all his own here, so you won't have the constant gags of standard Jack Black vehicles. I think he got a bit lost in his exploration of the middle act, but otherwise I liked it just fine.

No Country for Old Men: A. I have a huge crush on the mind of Cormac McCarthy. My dad put me onto his writing way back when, before any of the books were movies. I remember All the Pretty Horses made me cry actual tears from my hard-hearted cold-blooded ducts. It's the kind of writing you feel older for having read. No Country is one I haven't read, but it felt like McCarthy. They didn't glam it up, they didn't make it about anything less than the foundations of the human condition. In his writing there seems always to be a few distilled conversations between austere characters that define the kernel of the work, and these were not absent in the movie. Again, there is no hollywood tidiness here but you won't mind for the richness of the tale. Also, Tommy Lee Jones is yet another lawman, but like none other he's played, and his lack of an Oscar should embarrass the little naked bronze man.

WFMW: Backwards Edition: Graceful Transitions

2008-03-05T08:14:00.000-08:00

Today's Works for Me Wednesday is a backwards edition, meaning I ask for advice & solicite your ideas rather than coming up with my own.

So, here's what I'd like to know.

How do you gracefully handle fundamental change? We are about to go from one great kid (2 y-o boy) to two. I am about to go from miserably pregnant to ALL THE HECK DONE (whoooopp!). My career as a musician/teacher is sort of in adjustment, per the general SAHM-ness of my life for the next few years. I don't take the ability to be home with my kids for granted- it is exactly what I want- but I won't pretend my personal ambitions are in some parental deep-freeze.

I would love anything from practical advice on balancing being a mom and caring for my own drives (ambitions, goals, professional stimulation) to tips on how to breastfeed while potty training.

Thanks and check out all the other folks looking for advice (and the neat ideas they'll get in their comments) here.

Dude, where's our car?

2008-03-03T20:30:00.000-08:00

Sorry for our absence.

I've been working on a couple posts, but we were delayed in Salem by the guy who hit our parked car, putting it out of commission for at least a week. I gotta say, as much as having somebody hit your nice innocent car stinks, the best scenario for this to happen is while you are inside a movie theater watching the Movie of the Year and it is parked outside. No arguing about fault, no one hurt. Even the tree he creamed after glancing off our car and pushing it into the street had only a few scratches in the trunk. Poor guy had low blood sugar, or so we heard.

Now we're careening around in a ginormous Durango thingy, which we have dubbed the Black Jeep of the family because Toby has a thing for Jeeps. It has room for the entire World in the dashboard alone, so if you come by we'd be happy to put you up in the 800 thread-count cupholder cozies.

Yay for insurance. Poor Jeep!

WFMW: Unstuffy Classical Music

2008-02-27T15:53:00.001-08:00

This week for Shannon at Rocks in my Dryer's Works for Me Wednesday, I am going to give you an insider's guide to some of the coolest classical music and FREE internet resources for finding more you might like.

Broadening your child’s musical taste while expanding your own

As a professional classical musician (I’m a violist, in case you are bopping by for WFMW. Feel free to submit viola jokes in the comments if you like.), civilian friends sometimes ask me what music I like to play for my kid. There are a lot of pieces out there you are probably already familiar with (whether you know it or not) because they’re common in soundtracks, car commercials, produce departments and Muzak tracks worldwide. I’m looking at you, Pachelbel’s Canon and Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.

There are some really cool classical works out there that you may not have heard yet. I’m aiming for things that are accessible enough that you’ll enjoy them the first time but complex enough that you’ll still be enjoying in a few months (hopefully years!). Here are some of my (and my 2 year-old boy’s) favorites.
So let's dig in!

Bela Bartok: Concerto for Orchestra
I’ve blogged about this piece before, but it really does get the job done. It’s got it all: huge brass and strings parts, rhythmic drive, beautiful melodies. Bartok was a fascinating character and also happens to have written a lot of great stuff for viola. If you like this piece, you might also enjoy his 44 Duos for Two Violins. Here's a link to a free listen of one movement on Rhapsody.

Maurice Ravel: String Quartet
This is an incredibly cool piece and I bet with a little legwork you can find it online free from some enterprising ensemble, because it's one of those pieces you have to play if you want to be the new hotshot virtuoso string quartet.

Felix Mendelssohn: Octet
Can you believe he wrote this at 16? Sheesh. I totally want this played at our 50th anniversary or some other huge party. Help me think of reasons to throw a fete.

The Naked Violin: Tasmin Little
Don’t worry, she just means naked as in unaccompanied. This is a FREE release for download by well-known British violin virtuoso Tasmin Little. I am in love with her concept, and have in fact been trying to get a similar (though currently not so famous) project off the ground. I would recommend starting with the incredible Bach Partita, then moving on to the intense Ysaye (pronounced Eee-sigh), and working your way through the Patterson. Her website even includes ideas for classroom use (cough- heyhomeschoolers- cough).

Which brings us to an intro to a few of the many Rad Online FREE Broadcasts
New York Philharmonic
Here’s a great site to get you started with listening to lots of different repertoire if you don’t happen to have a good classical station where you are. You can listen to whatever they had on the air that week through your computer for FREE. And NYPhil, they aren’t going to let you down.

The Orpheus Chamber Orchestra
If this orchestra were a person, for me it would be Johnny Depp. Maybe Will Smith. Anyway, it’s hot with a million t’s, and I have always loved them. Ask any classical string player about their dream orchestra job, and I’d lay money they’ll mention Orpheus sooner or later. They play without a conductor and every single musician is one of the best in the world. When I was a wee undergrad in New York, I had the pleasure of getting to know a few of them. Once I even got to listen to a dress rehearsal in which Gil Shaham (wonderful violinist) was playing and James Taylor was sharing our row in the seats at Carnegie Hall. It was neat, even though I didn’t know who James Taylor was at the time. So, that’s a tangent, but you should really look into any recordings/videos/podcasts/internet broadcasts you can find. I especially recommend their recordings of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons (I know, but it’s a great piece and actually deserves the fame), and the disc with Prokofiev’s Classical Symphony and Britten’s Simple Symphony is one of our household favorites.

Alexander Street has a blog offering a free classical download once a week, which I just discovered while surfing for this post. Might be worth checking out, and I know there are more like this out there.

Many classical radio stations have excellent podcasts available free, as do a ton of orchestras. The last three top-tier orchestras I played with all had a free kid's program at their local libraries. Check around- I bet there is a whole community of vibrant, unstuffy classical music near you.

So that's what works for me- another WFMW whacked out at the JWards.
Thanks for sticking with it to the final cadences!

28 days!

2008-02-26T08:17:00.000-08:00

Because I don't count today or the day I'm actually due, there are just 28 days left on this hormone trip! Last stop, everybody off, this train is speeding back to the yard to remedy all misshapenness.

28 days is a fun thing to google, because you come up with either everyone's favorite sweatpants & beer movie star Sandra Bullock or a deadly virus.

I'm doing a little dance. It's jiggly, but it's mine.

Inspiring

2008-02-25T16:36:00.000-08:00

I wanted to put some thought and organized writing into this post, but for now I'm just going to get it out.

This weekend at Imago, an African man called Saah Joseph came and told us a little bit about how our church and others had helped him in his pursuits over the past year. He told us a ton of churches have sent folks over to talk about how they were going to supply wells and promising him the moon, only to disappear. I cannot fathom how a church could do that to people in such dire straits. Christians should be outraged at that, maybe hunt down the offenders and slap them with fish. I recommend either electric eels or spiny blowfish. But that's not what impressed me about Saah's story: check out a few of his accomplishments.

Saah played on the Liberian national soccer team before the chaos in Sierra Leone in the late nineties. Since the struggles he has planted 17 churches, 12 schools and a technical program for women whose only choice before his doors opened was prostitution. His programs sound practical and effective: for $500 sponsorship the street women are taught to read, given a meal a day and basic medical care, given a sewing machine, given prenatal care should they need it, and upon graduation receive $100 toward starting a business. This is a man whose father was killed and mother shot, who was forced to escape on foot, walking more than 400 miles through the bush to a refugee camp. He is 32 years old.

He is 32. 32!

He was joined on our church stage by Benjamin Nkusi, a man who survived the genocide in Rwanda. This guy spoke so matter-of-factly with the lilting accent of Africa that you could easily have missed the facts of his story. He hid in a home with his wife when the rebels came, and hearing them fire on the room where she lay he assumed she was killed. Fortunately, she was unharmed. They were then stranded behind enemy lines without food, and he was forced to go out in search of some. He said this like I would mention a trip to Target. In fact, he had to leave their hiding place on foot, was picked up by somebody with a truck and unfortunately didn't escape the notice of the rebels. They pulled him from the truck and tied him in the back room of a bar. He said a man drinking in the bar was a "specialist in the killing of people", in just the tone you or I might mention that somebody's very good at Trivial Pursuit. Happily for Benjamin, a priest happened by while he waited for his executioner and asked permission to speak with the prisoner, then chided the rebels for having innocent blood on their hands. And they let him go. I imagine that saying this is an exceedingly rare outcome is an understatement.

After the genocide, Benjamin started a ministry of reconciliation (ALARM) and has seen executioners turn themselves over to the mercy of families of those they killed. As he said, "it was very difficult for those families, but they were able to show mercy and forgiveness."

There are so many unimaginables in these stories that I can hardly believe I sat in the same room with these people. I've seen Hotel Rwanda, I had Japanese friends who were in Sierra Leone as all hell broke loose. Reconciliation, grace, mercy, hope: these words act weighty, but what do they really have to do with my own world?

The grief and terror these people have experienced is so indescribable: hopefully it doesn't also become forgettable in the clutter of my daily life.

ps. If you'd like a good place to start with support, try Living Water International. It's our church's Lent project.

Juno (not Juneau)

2008-02-25T15:57:00.000-08:00

I'm really glad Diablo Cody won the Oscar for best screenplay. I like her freestyling ways, and wonder if she's fun in real life or if she's too cool to just hang around with. This is a woman who pulls off leopard print and jet black dye jobs. I can honestly say I'm looking forward to reading her stripping memoir and am curious to see what angle she takes on what I think would be kind of a sad life.

And with that, my swelled up hands are numb and I'm going to need a poking stick with which to type. Pretty!

Skip this- it's ugly.

2008-02-22T08:23:00.000-08:00

I cannot believe I have 32 days left. My hands get sausagey and numb with no provocation, I am awake every night at 4am (give me a call, we'll chat), the steering wheel in the Jeep is giving me a cello-mark on my belly button and I... well, I waddle.

I think the extra fat has infiltrated my grey matter, because even my thinking feels groggy unless I'm mad. Which is a lot more often lately, right honey?

I am drinking raspberry leaf tea and casually asking the midwives WHEN WILL YOU START THE NATURAL INDUCTION STUFF??!!! (In another 2.5 weeks.)

How do people do this with more than one kid?

A day at the beach

2008-02-17T11:09:00.001-08:00

XOXOXOXOXOXO

2008-02-14T16:25:00.000-08:00

I'm feeling gushy! Schmaltzy, sentimental, full of good cheer. Here, have a pic from last Easter. It has been a lovely Valentine's, and my man isn't even home from work just yet.

Toby gave his first spontaneous hug to anyone in his age bracket today. His girl Audrey (an older woman at 2 3/4) walked in and he pretty much chased her around hugging her and looking deeply into her eyes for several minutes. She played hard to get, but I can tell she digs him.

He also put his hand on my cheek and called me pretty while I was writing this post. He's never done anything like that before, either. My men are goooood, people. The bigger one sent me Valentines tulips!

Here, have another heart-stopping recipe from last night's double fondue date with my parents!
Grown-up Creamsicle Fondue

1 package vanilla chips
A splash (maybe 1/4 cup) milk or heavy cream
Grand Marnier to taste (we doubled the recipe and used one of those airline-sized bottles, about 4 tbsp)

Melt the chips with the cream, either in the microwave in 20 second intervals or in a fondue pot while stirring constantly. Add orange liquor once smooth and melty.

Give your loved ones some banana hunks, pieces of pineapple, strawberries and pulled-apart chunks of angel food cake to dip. Since we'd already done a big fondue dinner, we gave everybody their own little bowl of the good stuff instead of all dipping in the fondue pot again.

In addition to being Valentine's day, did you know it's Oregon's birthday? She'll be 150 next year.

Here's to you, my friends, family and occasional random blog readers. Hope you and yours are enjoying the day!

Pot, Kettle.

2008-02-12T22:13:00.000-08:00

Rachael violin ho came for a visit! And she brought her better half Tim, and together they brought Toby a bubble machine (mind. blown.) and a huge green ball and some clothing he can put on his little brother. Yay!

This afternoon Tim and I ganged up on Rachael and made her commit to at least three Big Auditions this year, because she is awesome and is clearly on the cusp of winning a lucrative job. Maybe even something with an insurance package, which is nothing to sneeze at for a classical musician.

When we got done browbeating her and they piled into their Seattley blue Volvo to drive back to their trendy Seattley home, I realized I was feeling kind of... jealous. Or guilty. Or... is that strange sensation... could it be I felt- motivated?

See, there's this minor local audition in four weeks from which I had excused myself for two reasons. One, I am huge scary pregnant and my hands regularly take tingling catnaps without warning. Two, I feel sorry for myself having not won much local crap and would like a break from the suckage wringer. (I really wanted to write suckage wiener. Wierd.)

So I went to the orchestra's website and took one more look, and at least one of the positions only requires four excerpts. There is pretty much no excuse for wimping out on such an itty bitty thing. Except maybe labor. (C'monnnnn labor!) So now I think I stop whinging, commit and take the stupid audition.

Of course, by the time J got home just two hours after this epiphany, I was already in a foul mood- and no, I haven't even taken the viola out of the case yet. I'll say it before Rachael can. Hypocrite!

Cream: Good

2008-02-10T17:12:00.000-08:00

I am making this recipe, which I found at Epicurious, my favorite recipe site:

Cream Cheese Ice Cream (Gourmet Magazine, August 2003)

Active time: 5 min Start to finish: 2 1/2 hr (includes freezing)
Makes about 1 qt.

8 oz cream cheese, softened

1 cup milk

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

3/4 cup sugar

1/8 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup heavy cream

Preparation

Blend cream cheese, milk, lemon juice, sugar, and salt in a blender until smooth. Transfer to a bowl, then stir in cream. Freeze cream cheese mixture in ice cream maker. Transfer to an airtight container and put in freezer to harden, at least 2 hours. Let ice cream soften 5 minutes before serving.

So, if you don't hear from us for more than a few days, assume our arteries have clogged and hardened and we have developed instant diabetes from eating- or perhaps even smelling or looking at- what is essentially hunks of sweetened, frozen cream cheese with berries on top.

LLLLLLLLLet's gggggoooooooo....

2008-02-09T13:57:00.000-08:00

I seem to be slowing down at everything lately, blogging included. I miss coming up with thoughts and commentary on a regular basis, but it seems every time I turn around it's 3 or 4 days later.

Toby and I went for a long walk today over on 23rd and Lovejoy, a popular Portland area. I think it used to be all artsy and eclectic, but now there are at least three Starbucks and several other chain restaurants in the mix. Not that we mind that- in fact the kiddo and I shared a muffin and some quality car-on-table-top noisemaking time in one of them.

A few doors down from S'bux there is a super cool store called Hello Portland. If we were throwing away money, I'd pick up a bunch of the plate sets and stuff they have for kids. We don't last long browsing while Toby grabs at trendy and breakable nicknacks, but still it's a neat little place.

It's hard to be patient with Toby. He's generally a really compliant, curious, energetic guy, but he also weighs 31 pounds and is almost as stubborn as J. Not even close to my level of obstinence, but he may just get there... I'm kind of relieved that at just a hair past two years old he probably won't remember Pregnant Mama.

Today was a beautiful 55 degrees and sunny, and I tried to focus on just letting him walk at his own pace and explore (mostly) whatever he wanted. Alas, there were still moments where I wished we could put him on wheels and pull him around. I'm thinking something along the lines of a human-powered sidecar. J's suggestion is to find a stout harness with metal hardware and mountain climbing ropes, to be attached at the parent's waist. All those people who snicker at Toby's beloved stuffed dog-shaped backpack harness leash doohicky would really have a field day with that, but then they don't have to worry about him careening into traffic or picking up smoldering cigarette butts or getting squashed by a homeless guy's shopping cart, or.. or... I could go on all day with these. Must be the pregnancy hormones.

Works for Me! Frugal Websites

2008-02-06T20:32:00.000-08:00

Today's Works for Me Wednesday theme from Shannon at Rocks in My Dryer is all about websites.

My current favorite websites are about living within your means. My definition of frugality encompasses getting exactly what you want for as little outlay as possible, while avoiding buying things just because they are cheap or wasting money on things that turn out to suck. With that in mind, here are my recommendations and habits as a thrifty net citizen.

1. Getting my game on.
The ability to be frugal and remain on a budget is similar to maintaining a healthy diet and exercise regime. I need to do it in a flexibly creative way that motivates me, or I will drop it faster than a toddler can empty an unprotected tissue box. (3.52 seconds, in case you're wondering.)

One key component for me is saving money in ways that give me a sense of accomplishment. By finding sites that tell me about stuff like home design stuff I can do well myself without looking hokey, luxe baby clothes I can copy or find used, or cheap versions of material goods I can upgrade on my own, I stay in the game and want to stay on the savings wagon. Some things can't be faked, but by comparison shopping I can at least know for sure I've found a decent price. Shopping around also requires time, and denies my NOW NOW NOW impulses.

Design Mom & her sister Oh Happy Day are good places to start for my daily dose of hip things though neither include frugality in their design lust criteria. DM in particular has a great blogroll to surf through, often holds giveaways and is at least as satisfying as a subscription to a design magazine without all the piles of magazines. (I do LOVE realSimple, though!)

Sweet Juniper, a talented SAHD writer ex-lawyer, talks about finding great stuff at thrift stores in Detroit so rapturously you can't help getting caught up in his vibe, and about being thrifty as a cultural heritage.

From there, if I need more creativity inspirations I look at sites about whatever it is I'm focused on at the moment. Lately that's been Apartment Therapy, Martha Stewart and Strobist. Find what you like, and look around to see what other people have come up with. Don't be turned off by big price-tags; look for items that might work in your own home and could be copied or emulated DIY. If it turns out to be something worth saving up for, then you'll know where to find it when you're ready.

2. Actual advice on living cheaply
I've recently discovered Want Not, which is a site written by the very pretty Mir (short for GUESS WHAT most awesome name?!). She posts daily on all sorts of deals, coupons and sales at both online and brick-n-mortar shops. She also posts often on her level-headed financial philosophy and between her and her savvy commenters I have picked up some good tips. Frugal Hacks, Parent Hacks and Dave Ramsay's anti-debt site are other good bets.

3. Sites where I am a regular customer
Craigslist, baby. In-person, local, cash-only, no-surprises is made for me. I've bought and sold high-end furniture, strollers, and musical instruments there. (My family jokes about finding their Christmas gifts posted there but I swear I haven't done that... at least not with anything they gave me!) My current favorite searches include "murphy" (we want to build a wall bed for our guest BR queen), "joovy", "tandem" and "double" (we're looking for a schmancy double stroller but I'm allergic to paying $280 for one). I've seen some really neat things go through the free pages, but in Portland you have to be VERY fast on the trigger to snatch those puppies so I hardly even look at that section anymore. Some folks swear by FreeCycle, but I found it annoying. Restaurant.com has some great deals, especially when they have a coupon special for 60% off their vouchers. I like the sites everyone else goes to, like Amazon and iTunes, but it has to be a pretty serious deal for me to actually pull the trigger and buy from them.

4. Research
I often search the internet for thrift and resale shops in my area, and even at retail I like to know before going anywhere in person what the going rates are for things I'm hoping to find. The customer reviews & ratings at bigger sales sites are invaluable. I don't go to five grocery stores or do a ton of coupon printing (though I do clip from the paper) like some hard-core frugal folk, but if something costs more than $20 I usually compare prices online.

The internet is filthy with frugal parenting and how-to-stay-home mom sites. Some are better written and more regularly updated than others, but a quick trip through a few blogrolls should yield a crop you like. One site I found linked from who knows where is A Year Off, in which a family strives to get rid of anything extra and avoid bringing new crap into their lives for a year. They aren't doing it to save money, but the principal of living in moderation is a good one.

5. Conclusions
Finding inspiration, goods, philosophies, ratings and hacks is pretty much what the internet was born for. Keep your eyes open and your cynicism on high, and you can find some great tools. Cheaper is not always more intelligent in the long run, if it turns out to be junk. Budgets need room to build a life you enjoy, and that shouldn't be impossible if you calmly pick your indulgences & apply your throbbing brainpower.

Tricksy

2008-02-02T14:53:00.001-08:00

...or, How to Trick Your Man Into Finally Taking the Family for a Tram Ride.

Imagine you are in early labor, and get the midwife-on-call to agree enough to have you all trek into town. While waiting the hour for test results (all negative) and having all uterine activity stall immediately upon entering the hospital (just like when it was Toby's turn) you might scam a nice gardenburger and a tram-ride out of the somewhat humiliating deal.

I'm still feeling crampy. Eight more weeks of this??

Or maybe I'm just lazy...

2008-01-31T12:43:00.000-08:00

I think I'm becoming a Mennonite. Y'know, the long-skirted, long-haired (but always with the one-curl bangs, what's with that?) flowery gingham bedecked perpetually with-child ladies so common in rural areas?

You see, the problem is I am truly enjoying doing the grocery shopping less often. Like every other week. Maybe only once a month if I were a little more organized and had a bigger ~~compound~~ freezer. AND I used 30 coupons in one transaction today. Thir.ty. Wouldn't you love to be the dude behind me in line? So if the next time we bump into each other in Costco (where I don't even beLONG but I have blood relative contacts who share their account- our sect is tight like that) I'm wearing white sneakers and a denim skirt, a big tan fake leather purse and my cart looks like it's Y2K all over again, callll the poliiiice.