I made the mistake of picking up a small bag of White Chocolate M-n-Ms a few weeks ago....
Then I picked up a big bag of them.
And another big bag of them.
And another big bag of them.
Turns out, MnMs are my downfall. Especially the White Chocolate ones.
I'm trying to make peace with my downfall--to come up with a way to still enjoy these delicious confections, but not expand my waistline. So tonight, I decided to incorporate them into a larger snack idea which I also love: Trail Mix.
In a big bowl I mixed up granola, Almonds, Raisons, MnMs, and Peanut Butter chips, and Voila! Now I have a snack with that delicious white-chocolatey taste and nutritive value to boot!
DELIGHTFUL!
(And with all that fiber I can't eat much in one sitting! hehe).
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
I'll Take It!
| You Are Scooter |
 Brainy and knowledgable, you are the perfect sidekick. You're always willing to lend a helping hand. In any big event or party, you're the one who keeps things going. "15 seconds to showtime!" |
Friday, May 26, 2006
Sympathy Card Rant
I originally posted this elsewhere, but I actually had so much fun, "Ruminating" about sympathy cards that I thought I'd post it over here too. Sorry to be redundant again.
I've had to buy several sympathy cards lately, and of course we got scores of them when Mom died.
Now don't get me wrong, I really loved and appreciated every one that we got, mostly because I knew the people who were sending them, and their love and care, and thought was the comfort. I get that that's the point. Some of them even had nice sentiments. Really, I'd say that the people who sent cards to us did a remarkably wonderful job picking out the most poignant, caring sentiments out there.
But, in general, I HATE sympathy cards. I mean seriously--have you gone to Hallmark and read any? They are terrible! Especially the "Christiany" ones. It's like here--you've just been dealt a devestating blow, now how about a sermon?
The ones I hate most are the ones that try to tell you how to feel, "They aren't gone, they are merely away." "We can't understand God's plan, but He always has one, so don't despair." Oh PUHLEASE!!!!
When I'm buying one, I usually end up trying to find the most generic one I can with the least amount of sermonizing and then write my own note. Occasionally I'll find one that just, "fits" and that is always a relief, but it truly is a rare occasion.
I just don't get it. Why is our society so afraid to talk about the fact that death happens? I mean, statistically it's a certainty for all of us, right? And, unless a larger number than I'm aware of are holed up as hermits, people who die generally leave a few people behind. So why are we so afraid of saying words that are real instead of sermonizing or glossing over the pain--or worst of all trying to tell people how to feel their feelings?
In general, I think we'd be a healthier society if we got more comfortable with the idea of loss. We're so inundated with gimmee, gimmees, but we experience some form of loss many, many times--loss of friends, loss of jobs, loss of hometowns, loss of paradigms, loss of six-pack abs (something I NEVER had). Why can't we be real about that?
I think I might start my own line of sympathy cards. They will have messages like, "Grief sucks. I'm here for you." Or, "Call me if you need another casserole (or if you want me to wisk you away for some real food since I know you have tons of them)." Or, "Hurt in whatever way works." Or, "There is no normal now. Be gentle with yourself."
They might not be flowery, but they seem more real to me than sanitized cardboard sermons.
--End Rant--
I've had to buy several sympathy cards lately, and of course we got scores of them when Mom died.
Now don't get me wrong, I really loved and appreciated every one that we got, mostly because I knew the people who were sending them, and their love and care, and thought was the comfort. I get that that's the point. Some of them even had nice sentiments. Really, I'd say that the people who sent cards to us did a remarkably wonderful job picking out the most poignant, caring sentiments out there.
But, in general, I HATE sympathy cards. I mean seriously--have you gone to Hallmark and read any? They are terrible! Especially the "Christiany" ones. It's like here--you've just been dealt a devestating blow, now how about a sermon?
The ones I hate most are the ones that try to tell you how to feel, "They aren't gone, they are merely away." "We can't understand God's plan, but He always has one, so don't despair." Oh PUHLEASE!!!!
When I'm buying one, I usually end up trying to find the most generic one I can with the least amount of sermonizing and then write my own note. Occasionally I'll find one that just, "fits" and that is always a relief, but it truly is a rare occasion.
I just don't get it. Why is our society so afraid to talk about the fact that death happens? I mean, statistically it's a certainty for all of us, right? And, unless a larger number than I'm aware of are holed up as hermits, people who die generally leave a few people behind. So why are we so afraid of saying words that are real instead of sermonizing or glossing over the pain--or worst of all trying to tell people how to feel their feelings?
In general, I think we'd be a healthier society if we got more comfortable with the idea of loss. We're so inundated with gimmee, gimmees, but we experience some form of loss many, many times--loss of friends, loss of jobs, loss of hometowns, loss of paradigms, loss of six-pack abs (something I NEVER had). Why can't we be real about that?
I think I might start my own line of sympathy cards. They will have messages like, "Grief sucks. I'm here for you." Or, "Call me if you need another casserole (or if you want me to wisk you away for some real food since I know you have tons of them)." Or, "Hurt in whatever way works." Or, "There is no normal now. Be gentle with yourself."
They might not be flowery, but they seem more real to me than sanitized cardboard sermons.
--End Rant--
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
"Uncle Bob"
The first time Carolyn danced was during a visit to our friends Bob, and Jennie's house a few days before she was born. Bob and Jennie got out their fiddle and guitar, and suddenly there was rhythym in my womb.
The first time she heard live music outside of the womb, was when we visited Bob and Jennie's and they got their instruments out again. It was one of the first times in Washington that we felt really at home--a moment when we realized we had good, true friends.
Since then, Carolyn--all of us really--have had a softspot for her "Uncle Bob." Everytime they would come to visit, or we would go see them she zeroed in on him. Something about his smiling eyes and soft voice just appealed to her. At first we thought it was his handlebar mustache that caught her attention, but when he had chemo and lost all of his hair--including that mustache--she showed us otherwise.
In the last few weeks, despite Bob's deterioration, Carolyn has had this same connection. The last time we saw Bob, Carolyn locked eyes on him and gave him her biggest smile, and Bob, though disoriented and in and out of awareness saw her, broke into a huge grin, raised his hands and clapped. They had some special moments that day.
Bob died this afternoon at 4 p.m. He was a man with a gentle voice, a quick smile, and a musical laugh. He loved to play his fiddle and was the true compliment to his beautiful wife, Jennie. He had a strong faith--especially in these last few months. He was a good friend.
We miss him very much already.
The first time she heard live music outside of the womb, was when we visited Bob and Jennie's and they got their instruments out again. It was one of the first times in Washington that we felt really at home--a moment when we realized we had good, true friends.
Since then, Carolyn--all of us really--have had a softspot for her "Uncle Bob." Everytime they would come to visit, or we would go see them she zeroed in on him. Something about his smiling eyes and soft voice just appealed to her. At first we thought it was his handlebar mustache that caught her attention, but when he had chemo and lost all of his hair--including that mustache--she showed us otherwise.
In the last few weeks, despite Bob's deterioration, Carolyn has had this same connection. The last time we saw Bob, Carolyn locked eyes on him and gave him her biggest smile, and Bob, though disoriented and in and out of awareness saw her, broke into a huge grin, raised his hands and clapped. They had some special moments that day.
Bob died this afternoon at 4 p.m. He was a man with a gentle voice, a quick smile, and a musical laugh. He loved to play his fiddle and was the true compliment to his beautiful wife, Jennie. He had a strong faith--especially in these last few months. He was a good friend.
We miss him very much already.
Monday, May 15, 2006
a mother's day
I'm sitting here at the end of my 2nd Mother's Day. It was quite a day. My husband was home this year--only one of many ways Mother's Day was so different this year. Last year, I sat at my folks' house, and unwrapped a beautiful KitchenAide mixer from Andy which he'd sent to their house before getting on "the boat"... And last year I spent the day with my Mom.
This year, I went to church with Andy and Carolyn, and heard a message that gave me a nugget of hope as a mother. I can't screw up as badly as Mary the mother of Jesus did when 12 year old Jesus hid out at the temple for three days, and she didn't even notice until a day into the journey home. I mean as Pastor Larry said,... She LOST GOD. And her child still grew up and ultimately completed his mission of saving the world. I guess there is hope for Carolyn... even when major crises arise like my not finding tights for her to wear with her little skirts on slightly chilly days. (For the record, the point of the sermon was much bigger than that... but how can you not be encouraged with such a thought?).
This year, my baby girl is teething and she was fussy. I mean she fussed all freaking day. Fussing, fussing, fussing. Oh yeah, and Happy Mother's Day, Mommy! Waaaahhhh!
This year, I didn't get to buy a card for my Mom. I didn't get to make that phone call just to say, "I love you and thanks for putting up with me even when I cried and fussed on your special days." I didn't get to tell her about the new teeth Carolyn is getting in, or hold the phone up to her ear so she could say, "Hi Sugar Plum." I didn't get to do that.
I am notoriously late at getting cards and gifts for all sorts of occasions, and this year it was really hard not to just really beat myself up for doing that so many Mother's Days.
This year, I thought for the first time in my life how a holiday so benign an Mother's Day could really, really hurt a person. I ached for the woman in my church who lost her 13 year old boy two weeks ago when he fell while rock-climbing. I ached for friends of mine who want so badly to have children and aren't able to. I ached for friends who have lost babies. I ached for myself and other children--young and old alike who find themselves missing their mothers and wishing so badly they could make that phone call one more time.... And I ached for women whose husbands and lovers were gone from their lives and couldn't treat them like a queen on this day when they should be honored.
But... then there were the moments today of stepping back and watching Carolyn with Andy... playing, giggling, snuggling. I breathed in and said, "Now there is a beautiful sight."
Then there was the moment of Carolyn stuffing her fist down deep into a box of Cheerio's--leaving a pine cone behind in the box, and coming up with a whopping fistfull of Cheerio's to promptly stuff in her mouth.
There was chasing her around the kitchen and livingroom and playing hide and seek.
There was also a moment of terror when Carolyn managed to knock the ironing board over and it fell almost right on top of her. Yes, pure terror. Mommy self-flaggelation--and then the thought, "At least I didn't LOSE GOD!"
And finally, after giving her to Andy to diffuse more teething fussiness and get a bath, there was reading her the story of "Runaway Bunny" singing her our special songs, snuggling her, and laying her down quietly in her crib. Then there was that....
It's been a full day. A hard day. A good day.
It's been a mother's day.
This year, I went to church with Andy and Carolyn, and heard a message that gave me a nugget of hope as a mother. I can't screw up as badly as Mary the mother of Jesus did when 12 year old Jesus hid out at the temple for three days, and she didn't even notice until a day into the journey home. I mean as Pastor Larry said,... She LOST GOD. And her child still grew up and ultimately completed his mission of saving the world. I guess there is hope for Carolyn... even when major crises arise like my not finding tights for her to wear with her little skirts on slightly chilly days. (For the record, the point of the sermon was much bigger than that... but how can you not be encouraged with such a thought?).
This year, my baby girl is teething and she was fussy. I mean she fussed all freaking day. Fussing, fussing, fussing. Oh yeah, and Happy Mother's Day, Mommy! Waaaahhhh!
This year, I didn't get to buy a card for my Mom. I didn't get to make that phone call just to say, "I love you and thanks for putting up with me even when I cried and fussed on your special days." I didn't get to tell her about the new teeth Carolyn is getting in, or hold the phone up to her ear so she could say, "Hi Sugar Plum." I didn't get to do that.
I am notoriously late at getting cards and gifts for all sorts of occasions, and this year it was really hard not to just really beat myself up for doing that so many Mother's Days.
This year, I thought for the first time in my life how a holiday so benign an Mother's Day could really, really hurt a person. I ached for the woman in my church who lost her 13 year old boy two weeks ago when he fell while rock-climbing. I ached for friends of mine who want so badly to have children and aren't able to. I ached for friends who have lost babies. I ached for myself and other children--young and old alike who find themselves missing their mothers and wishing so badly they could make that phone call one more time.... And I ached for women whose husbands and lovers were gone from their lives and couldn't treat them like a queen on this day when they should be honored.
But... then there were the moments today of stepping back and watching Carolyn with Andy... playing, giggling, snuggling. I breathed in and said, "Now there is a beautiful sight."
Then there was the moment of Carolyn stuffing her fist down deep into a box of Cheerio's--leaving a pine cone behind in the box, and coming up with a whopping fistfull of Cheerio's to promptly stuff in her mouth.
There was chasing her around the kitchen and livingroom and playing hide and seek.
There was also a moment of terror when Carolyn managed to knock the ironing board over and it fell almost right on top of her. Yes, pure terror. Mommy self-flaggelation--and then the thought, "At least I didn't LOSE GOD!"
And finally, after giving her to Andy to diffuse more teething fussiness and get a bath, there was reading her the story of "Runaway Bunny" singing her our special songs, snuggling her, and laying her down quietly in her crib. Then there was that....
It's been a full day. A hard day. A good day.
It's been a mother's day.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Sunsoaking in the Backyard
It's such a beautiful day today, that we sat outside after Carolyn's nap. Carolyn did her typical walk around and pick up rocks and pinecones routine, Andy chased after her, and I got to lounge in the sun (it is Mother's Day after all).
While we were out we decided to do a photo homage to my folks. There are some photos lying around somewhere of me and a Cheerio's box too!
While we were out we decided to do a photo homage to my folks. There are some photos lying around somewhere of me and a Cheerio's box too!
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Life Today...
I've been thinking the last few days about how I feel like a totally different person than I was three years ago, or five years ago, or one year ago. I am a new person. I am a Mom now. I am a girl missing her Mom now.
The last two years have taken me to the heights of joys I'd never known and to the depths of griefs I'd never imagined.
I've learned to feel suffering. I learned to watch suffering. And now I enter even further into the suffering of others.
A close friend of ours is nearing the end of his battle with cancer. He is about to give his life in the fight.
I stagger at this--at seeing it again, at feeling it again, at knowing that people that I love are having to feel the devestation of the beast that is cancer.
I am learning here. I have learned here and from all that has come to me in these whirlwind months. But I can't articulate the lesson. I can't tell you how I'm different. I can't tell you who this new person is. I'm not sure I recognize her. I have to get to know her a little better.
All I know is I step forward into life each day a different person. I'm trying to assimilate the happenings of the last two years into who I am now. I'm trying to learn the steps of a new dance. It's scary, and hard, and leaves me quiet.
But I will continue the journey and I will try to share the story of it as much as I can. Because there is power in the telling of our stories.
Please pray for my friend Bob, as he finishes this journey and begins a new one. Pray for his wife Jennie and their family.
And pray for me as I make sense of who I am now and as I assimilate all that has been into who I am now and what now is.
The last two years have taken me to the heights of joys I'd never known and to the depths of griefs I'd never imagined.
I've learned to feel suffering. I learned to watch suffering. And now I enter even further into the suffering of others.
A close friend of ours is nearing the end of his battle with cancer. He is about to give his life in the fight.
I stagger at this--at seeing it again, at feeling it again, at knowing that people that I love are having to feel the devestation of the beast that is cancer.
I am learning here. I have learned here and from all that has come to me in these whirlwind months. But I can't articulate the lesson. I can't tell you how I'm different. I can't tell you who this new person is. I'm not sure I recognize her. I have to get to know her a little better.
All I know is I step forward into life each day a different person. I'm trying to assimilate the happenings of the last two years into who I am now. I'm trying to learn the steps of a new dance. It's scary, and hard, and leaves me quiet.
But I will continue the journey and I will try to share the story of it as much as I can. Because there is power in the telling of our stories.
Please pray for my friend Bob, as he finishes this journey and begins a new one. Pray for his wife Jennie and their family.
And pray for me as I make sense of who I am now and as I assimilate all that has been into who I am now and what now is.
Monday, May 08, 2006
For Brandy and Lauren And Any Other Closet FIF Fan Out There:
"Dear Father,
I need you.
Your strength my heart to mend...
I want to
Fly higher... Every New Day again...."
You know the rest.
I need you.
Your strength my heart to mend...
I want to
Fly higher... Every New Day again...."
You know the rest.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Nike's and Haircuts
My ten minutes of evening computer time is technically up, but I had to share my new haircut... And because I am told that people get sad when there aren't new pictures of Carolyn up, I thought I would share a photo of Carolyn in her adorable little pink Nike's from Ms. Shari. I also love the little Tennis Dress. :)
So yes, about the haircut... I had one of those typically Val urges to get rid of some hair today... So, I did! I can't wait to take my first short hair shower!!!!
That's all... I better be good now.
So yes, about the haircut... I had one of those typically Val urges to get rid of some hair today... So, I did! I can't wait to take my first short hair shower!!!!
That's all... I better be good now.
Monday, May 01, 2006
Wubba
Carolyn has a new word. It's "Wubba." I know, I know... It's crazy. It's not a real word. Should it even count?And what is "Wubba" anyway?
I am a lover of Sesame Street. I hope to instill this love into my daughter. One of our favorite videos is the 25th Anniversary Sesame Street singalong video. And our favorite song on that particular video is Grover's rendition of "Wubba, Wubba, Wubba."Early on this song caught my fancy and I found myself humming it all day long. This resulted in spontaneous bursts of, "I said a wubba wubba wubba and a woo woo woo" in the middle of nearly everything--dinner, showering, driving, walks with the stroller. Carolyn has become quite used to it. Andrew has too, and we've begun to sing it together.
Soon after Andrew began to sing along, Carolyn decided to join in and one day as Andy and I were singing a stellar duet of the song, we stopped and heard our daughter say, "Wubbubububub."
My favorite times are when we sing the song together and she incorporates her new move--the head wiggle--into the singing of it. Especially on the "Wubba, Wubba, Wubba and a Doodly Doo." line. Just imagine my little girl singing, "Wubba, wubba, wubba" and waggling her head back and forth when I get to "Doodly Doo." Yeah.... I LOVE this girl.
So now she goes around the house saying, "Wubbubububub."
(And also she says Mama... Finally!)
I am a lover of Sesame Street. I hope to instill this love into my daughter. One of our favorite videos is the 25th Anniversary Sesame Street singalong video. And our favorite song on that particular video is Grover's rendition of "Wubba, Wubba, Wubba."Early on this song caught my fancy and I found myself humming it all day long. This resulted in spontaneous bursts of, "I said a wubba wubba wubba and a woo woo woo" in the middle of nearly everything--dinner, showering, driving, walks with the stroller. Carolyn has become quite used to it. Andrew has too, and we've begun to sing it together.
Soon after Andrew began to sing along, Carolyn decided to join in and one day as Andy and I were singing a stellar duet of the song, we stopped and heard our daughter say, "Wubbubububub."
My favorite times are when we sing the song together and she incorporates her new move--the head wiggle--into the singing of it. Especially on the "Wubba, Wubba, Wubba and a Doodly Doo." line. Just imagine my little girl singing, "Wubba, wubba, wubba" and waggling her head back and forth when I get to "Doodly Doo." Yeah.... I LOVE this girl.
So now she goes around the house saying, "Wubbubububub."
(And also she says Mama... Finally!)
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