Big Boy

Gavin's hair was getting quite long. I tried to trim it myself but the diagonal bang look didn't work on him; I don't think it works on many people. I was going to take him to a barber to trim his hair before his birthday but I am so glad it didn't work out. Well, it didn't work out with timing and I am too cheap even if timing wasn't an issue. I wasn't going to pay $14 for a baby hair cut. Really.

Monday I finally got around to his hair cut. Cut, Cuts and Kicks is a local barbershop up here on the Hill. I walk by it often on my way to the former Galaxie Espresso, now V3 (bought by Victrola coffee, so the coffee is the same) for a caffeine fix. I popped in and waited my turn. It was getting late in the afternoon and Gavin's mood was deteriorating by the second. He wanted to crawl on the floor in the hair trimmings. The barber swept up the hair shavings but when you are cutting hair its a losing battle so I tried to keep Gavin occupied with lots of monster noises while Mommy 'ate' his tummy (Gavin's, not the barber). The young boys were probably annoyed that they heard, "I'm gonna get you! Argh, rowr, yum, yum, yum," followed by shrieking baby laughter instead of the sports casters on ESPN. Sports casters are lame, anyway. Their jokes are lame and they talk to each other as if the entire viewing audience is in on their private jokes. NEWSFLASH: We aren't! We are watching the FOOTBALL game and don't care about the LAME Basketball jokes you are making!

So, it was finally Gavin's turn so I sat in the barber chair and held him. He was surprisingly still for having an electric razor whirring around his head. I told the barber that I didn't want him to have a big boy hair cut. He asked if I wanted him to take the sides in a little. I said, "Yeah. But just a little, though."

Apparently "Big boy haircut" is not an official hair style and I should have been a little more specific because my baby is now a little boy! Ryan keeps telling me that even though he looks older he doesn't act older. Men just don't understand.

Here he is, my baby:

Neurotic

I'm not a perfectionist. Not even close. I've heard it argued that people who live in squalor are sometimes perfectionists. It's not a complete stretch. When one wants everything to be perfect - the house, the car, the food, the clothes and they realize it is impossible they don't know where to put their efforts in cleaning as it all seems pointless because they can never maintain their ideal.

That still doesn't describe me because we don't live in squalor; not even close. It's a bit disheveled but I try to keep it clean even though papers stack up and pens and glasses are left scattered about but I will still vacuum, clean the sinks and scrub the toilet. Then when I'm cleaning the microwave I notice the knobs on the stove are a bit icky. I pop 'em off and clean then. Then I notice the pulls on the kitchen cabinets need to be wiped down. Then I notice the seam between the counter top and the cook top has an accumulation of food in the crevice so I scrub it and scrub it and when that doesn't work I get out the box of toothpicks to complete the job. Before you know it I've scrubbed the kitchen floor on my hands and knees because I mop so infrequently that a regular mopping just won't do and the base molding was also in need of some spot cleaning and *poof* an hour just flew out the window. And for what? A kitchen that will stay clean until the next meal is prepared?

Lame.

I'm sitting at the dining room table as I write this with my back to a messy kitchen that I can't clean right now for fear of waking Gavin and I face a mass of papers on the table that I'm not going through because I really don't want to and beyond the pile of papers are three baskets of laundry in the living room that need to be folded that aren't going to be folded tonight because I need to vacuum the area rug before I fold clothes (it's fold them on the area rug or on the kitchen table and it will be way easier to vacuum the area rug than go through the mountains of papers). But I can't vacuum because it is midnight and I would wake Ryan and Gavin. That would make for two grumpy guys. Not so good.

I did get one thing accomplished today (aside from washing and drying all of the clothes): clean sheets on the bed. Clean sheets are so nice; I really should change them twice a week but it is such a hassle because I take them off in the morning but never put them back on until the evening when Ryan is ready to go to bed. You think I would learn to put the sheets on before he is ready for bed.

Not for the reason you think. It is not about getting the bed ready before the bread winner is ready for his hard earned sleep. It is about putting the sheets on the way I want them on. It about getting them on without being hassled by said bread winner.

A few things from nursing school have stuck with me. Making a perfect bed, as it pertains to sheets only, has stayed with me. Anyone who has gone through nurse's aide training or nursing school is taught the fine art of making a hospital bed (and often making a bed with an immobile person in it). I used to tuck the top sheet in on both sides and at the foot of the bed and make perfect 45 degree corners at the foot of the bed. Making corners with the sheets on my bed at home is borderline certifiable craziness. Since I can't stand the top sheet tucked in I no longer tuck them in but each corner of the bottom sheet has to be secure in its attachment to the mattress; the elastic has to reach all the way around the corner and rest on the underside of the mattress. There can be no buckling and bunching on top at the corners. The sheet needs to be stretched and taut, no waves and wrinkles.

I'm not done. The top sheet. It needs to be smooth and wrinkle free with an equal overhang on each side of the bed with the foot board end of the sheet tucked neatly down the foot board but not under the mattress because that would be silly since we don't like our sheets tucked in.

Believe it or not I've dialed back the crazy as related to the bed sheets because I used to have specifics for the pillow cases as well (the seam of the pillow case and the opening of the pillow case all had to be just so).

If there was a question before I think the above settled it: I am neurotic about the sheets on my bed. But there is a catch. They only have to be perfect the when I first put them on. The day after I put the clean sheets on I don't go to any great measures to make the bed. I pull the top sheet up and make a half hearted attempt to pull the duvet up over the pillows. That's it. So, yeah, I'm a little crazy. I admit it.

People, what do we do with crazy people?

a) poke them with a stick
or
b) let them be

You smart folks chose 'b', I just know you did.

What does my beloved husband do? He pokes me with a stick! When we are making the bed at night with the clean sheets he enjoys trying to get under the top sheet before I've smoothed out the wrinkles. He likes to throw his pillow on the top sheet as I'm trying to put the top sheet on. He likes to do the last corner because he knows he can't do it as well as I do - he always says its impossible to get all four corners on.

I know I'm a bit crazy over this matter of seeming little significance but let me have my bit of crazy! I'm not hurting anyone. Not yet at least.

Don't mess with my sheets.

Trains

My friend Tauryn had this posted on her Facebook. It made me laugh.

Eye Catching

I don't have much to say about it. It just caught my eye, that's all.

Eh?!

The Vice Presidential debate is over and the speculation about how Sarah Palin would do has been put to rest. We all know how she did because we as a nation watched with baited breath. But how did she do, really? John McCain was talking to supporters at a rally today saying, "How about Sarah Palin? How did she do last night? Wasn't she great? Eh? Eh? Eh?" It was almost as if he himself was in shock that she did so well (and by well I mean she didn't completely choke).

He, as a 72 year old, should really re-think the use of "Eh" in his speech. If his waxen, death warmed over look doesn't highlight that he is well into his seventh decade on this planet the use of, "Eh" certainly does the trick. Another word I would like to strip from his and Sarah's vocabulary: "maverick". Gag me. Like, totally. With a spoon.

I was very disappointed in the debate last night for many reasons. First, I was really hoping to be able to laugh at Sarah Palin. Yes, I know that sounds very mean spirited, but, I don't care. I was expecting something along the lines of the Katie Couric interviews. I figured if she choked when asked hard hitting questions like what her choice of reading materials included before joining the McCain ticket then I just knew that she would spontaneously combust when asked about foreign policy or health care. Second, she used her time to answer the question given to her to talk about whatever struck her fancy. Third, because she was so warm and charming (to which I say puh-leeze) and was able to speak (in circles like a dog chasing his tail, mind you) the American sheeple thought she was wonderful.

But, alas, there was no spontaneous combustion; nor were there answers to the moderators questions. There were lots of sound bites and "ya know" and "joe six pack" and soccer mom references. And for the love of all things dignified QUIT WINKING! Is she trying to seduce the vote? Is there some inside joke we are supposed to be laughing at?

Me and my home girls forsook our bible study to watch the Biden v. Palin smack down. Joe Biden wasn't the only one sighing and Sarah Palin wasn't the only one rolling her eyes last night. We agreed that watching Biden and Palin on the same screen seemed a bit surreal. There was the elder statesman of Joe Biden giving clear, concise answers to the moderators questions. He spoke from experience and knowledge and it seemed as if he knew what he was talking about. He spoke with conviction and I believed him. In stark contrast to Joe Biden's direct answers were Sarah Palin's "answers" to the questions - if she chose to actually answer the question posed to her, that is - where she spoke in circles and was trying so hard to connect with the "average American" but when she quit speaking we knew no more about her and McCain's policies than when she first opened her mouth.

And just who is this average American she is trying to connect with? Is the average American duped by her? Does it only take saying, "You betcha" and calling herself a maverick and a soccer mom to get to the White House? Really? I for one do not want an average American as President or Vice President. I want an exceptional American to lead this country and I believe that one who is exceptionally bright would have no problem agreeing to a live interview.

As painful as the Katie Couric interviews were to watch (and as great as the SNL sketches with Tina Fay were to watch) they did help Sarah Palin in the debates because the bar was set so low that all she had to do to be declared victorious was to give a lucid response without the gleam of terror or panic in her eyes that Katie Couric's hard hitting questions seemed to elicit.

This election is momentous in that it is historic with a black man running on the Democratic ticket and a woman running for VP on the Republican ticket but it also seems like a sick joke. McCain was so desperate to capture the Hilary vote that instead of looking for a qualified candidate to run with he looked for a woman and is trying to make her into something she is not: qualified. Who would have ever thought that someone with less than a full term as Governor of the 4th smallest state in the Union and 6 years as Mayor of a town that is a fraction of the size of the school district I grew up in, could be so close to the Oval office?

Unreal.

I wonder how I would have voted if McCain had selected a different running mate. Would he have had a fighting chance? Is Palin's supposed success in last night's debate enough to make up ground they lost after her interviews were aired? Is she going to be stuck in a closet from now until the election?

Bling Bling Baby and some other stuff

I am once again wearing my wedding ring. I took it off shortly into my pregnancy because of weight gain and swelling. Gavin is almost a year old and ring didn't fit still, even though at one point I weighed 10 pounds less than when I got pregnant. What can I say? I have puffy sausage fingers. But now my puffy sausage fingers have a little bling.

It was with a mixture of defeat and eagerness that I took my beloved ring to the jeweler on Wednesday. I was eager to have my sparkly bauble back but at the same time I was waiving the white flag of defeat by having the ring re-sized (up 1.5 sizes).


My jeweler told me to take the ring to Ben Bridge or Zales in the mall because they have jewelers in the store and could fix it quickly. The Ben Bridge people told me it was going to cost $95 to have the ring re-sized so I took it to Zales and they told me it was going to cost $200. Tough call. Also, Zales was going to charge another $200 to secure the stone because it was visibly loose (I dropped it on the kitchen floor that very morning). Ben Bridge was going to charge $50 to secure the stone. Another tough call.


After I dropped the ring off at Ben Bridge I decided to check out the new and improved Southcenter mall. Wow. It was under construction for a long time and I like outcome. Hmm, now that I think about it I may have liked it so much because it was in the middle of the day on Wednesday and there wasn't a horde of teenagers clogging the walking paths.


The sales people at the clothing stores all looked like teenagers, though. So young! I was, and still am, on a mission to find a purse that will take the place of carrying both a purse and a diaper bag. I went in and out of most stores. I found a lovely messenger bag that would have worked beautifully at Macy's but it was more than I wanted to spend at $78. For a messenger bag? I think not. If I didn't have an obscene number of purses as is it would be easier to justify buying but I can't. Especially now that Ryan's work with his friend is drawing to a close and his work with the city begins. Ryan's friend paid him every month but the city may not pay Ryan until the work is done, 3 months from now. Not to worry, we have a small stash to pay bills but I don't think buying another bag would be the most prudent thing to do. Although I would be helping the economy by buying a bag. Just doing my American duty!


My tour through the mall made me want to cling to Gavin and his babyhood all the more. The stores that obviously cater to young teens were borderline obscene. And dark, and loud and smelly. I never, ever, set foot in the stores that blare music and have just enough light so you can see the clothes on the rack in front of you but not enough to the clothes on the rack across the aisle from you. Since I was on a quest for a messenger type bag I had no choice but to visit these scary, scary stores. The music was so loud that WELCOME. IF I CAN HELP YOU FIND SOMETHING LET ME KNOW!" I responded, "I'M LOOKING FOR A MESSENGER STYLE BAG." The sales person carefully studied my lips as I was shouting as another tool to help them decipher what I was yelling - the music was that loud. I didn't complain about the music because I'm in the over 20 crowd that clearly doesn't belong in those stores; and I really don't belong while pushing a stroller with my little guy. If the music wasn't so loud I would have turned the excursion into a learning experience.

Me: "Gavin, do you hear that music? It is too loud. Value your hearing."
Gavin: "Ma ma ma ma! Di di di di!"
Me: "Those posters on the walls objectified women and young men. Women are to be valued and respected. You, too are to be valued and respected and you have value and worth even when you keep your shirt on."
Gavin: "Da da da da! Eeeeee!"


I could not get over the clothing in the stores that catered to teenage girls. The underwear was sexy, if not a bit slutty and the skirts were short and bit on the slutty side. Same goes for the shirts. I know that I have a boy but there are going to be girls all around him wearing this stuff! And it's not just the girls clothing that gets me its the advertising for the boys (mens) clothing; the guys with their washboard abs, wearing their pants partially unzipped with a scantily clad woman fawning all over him. Can't they at least try to be somewhat subtle with the sex sells?

Another shocker, a book that was compiled of advice for teenage girls from a regular column in Seventeen magazine. It was all about sex. I know kids are having sex at younger and younger ages and I'm not opposed to sex ed (heck, look at Bristol Palin) but can't we encourage the kids to delay gratification? It seems like a lot of parallels could be drawn between how we, as Americans, want everything NOW and our economic crisis. Wall street is just a reflection of our greed in mainstream America.

This could get me a lot of flack but I don't care. Yes, I know the CEO's are greedy little bastards but you know who else is greedy? Me. I want a specialty coffee drink, I want $100 shoes, I want a cheap shirt so I can have 3 shirts instead of one really nice shirt. I want a nice house with nice decorations. I want my son to have cute clothes and a cute Halloween costume. It's not bad to want all of this stuff but when we put those material wants above all else and we spend more than we make then we create a life that is built on one huge lie. Then our neighbors see what we have and they want what we have while we in turn want what they have so we are constantly consuming and consuming and are never satisfied. We want more, more stuff to fill the void that grows larger and larger as we try to cram it full of useless stuff.

Now that I re-read what I just wrote it seems I took a huge leap from the sexualization of kids to the current economic crisis without connecting the dots as well as I think they are connected in my head. Too bad you can't jump in my head because it is crystal clear up there - to me. Eh. I would try to write more to connect the dots but the dog is looking like she's going to barf and Gavin just went down for a nap so I should finish this post I've been working on for a couple of days now and go get some housework done while I have some free time.

Going on Strike

It is day three of the strike and there is no end in sight. It is with much tears, crying, and whining that the strike is being enforced. Never mind there the one who is on strike has red, weary looking eyes that are rubbed frequently nor that the striking party's bouncing nature, if you will, takes a serious turn south just before the eye rubbing commences. All signs point to a state of fatigue, tiredness, a state that shouts: "I need a nap!"

Being the dutiful, loving mother that I am, I give my precious baby boy some warm milk for the tummy (which I should probably not be doing before nap time because it is just ingraining the whole eat before bedtime thing which I know is not good... but one battle at a time, please), and gently lie him down in his crib. And as I oh-so-gently place him in his crib he arches his back and screams.

As he grows I know that his nap schedule will change. This is a fact that I can accept. I have accepted that he no longer goes back to sleep a mere 30 minutes after waking up in the morning. I can not accept his refusal of the first morning nap when he is clearly tired. What else am I supposed to make of a crying, grumpy, eye rubbing, ear tugging baby boy?

I'm hoping most of this is just related to teething since the little G is has 3, maybe 4 teeth, busting through right now. Tylenol and medicated teething swabs help a night and I just numbed up his gums on the side he sticks his tongue to chew on (it's super cute, btw). Keep your fingers crossed! Well, it's been about 15 minutes since I swabbed his gums and now he is at least lying down and not hollering. He is talking though.

He's saying, "A di. A di. Bwaa. A-dah, eh, A-dah. Da. A-yay."
Translation, "Neener, neener, I'm not going to sleep mom, even though I'm tired. You can put me in my crib but you can't make me sleep. Why don't you come get me out the crib and go to the gym all of 10 minutes away so I can fall asleep on the car ride over."

Really. Yesterday to let me know he was not going to take a nap he screamed and screamed and screamed some more. Between screaming sessions I went in to comfort him and to make sure he was ok (he even got some Tylenol and a teething swab). Nothing. On one of my trips in he had a poopy diaper (I knew the second I opened the door to his room). I can't blame him for not wanting to sleep in a dirty diaper - but I can take issue with him not sleeping in the fluffy clean diaper I put him. Nothing. No sleep, not even close. More weeping and gnashing of gums and some teeth was to be had.

I had enough of trying to get him to sleep, and I couldn't take anymore screaming so I packed my gym bag, grabbed the G man and we drove all of 10 minutes to the gym. He fell asleep on the car ride over. !

! Can you feel the frustration? How is a car seat more comfortable than a crib with a nice mattress? I took him to the kiddie day care and laid him down in one of their cribs but he didn't sleep. He did however get to crawl and play for a solid 90 minutes which led to a 2 hour nap when we got home.

The way this is shaping up he's not going to sleep. He is standing up again. I think I'll load up the car with the Exersaucer and Johnny Jump Up to return to Ryan's former co-worker who so graciously lent them to us. Hopefully he will sleep in the car so he won't be a total grumpy pants at our PEPS (mommy group) this afternoon.

I love being a mom but I do not this fighting over naps business. Why fight a nap? A nap is one of the most beautiful, underrated pleasures in life. I should have been born in Spain so I could enjoy guilt free siestas.

Not For the Faint of Heart

At this very moment I am on-line looking for a purse. I don't feel like going from store to store to find one. Ebags didn't have anything, Overstock had nothing, craigslist had nothing and freecycle had nothing. OK, they had purses but I'm looking for one I can wear across the body and one that is HUGE so I can carry one bag instead of a purse and a diaper bag. The diaper bag I use is a small backpack and its not exactly my style.

So why am I telling you about something as mundane as shopping for a purse? I'll tell you why. The results on e-bay were too many so I sorted them from priced lowest to highest. That wasn't helpful since there were a ton of little $0.99 coin purses. So I sorted high to low and was going to go that route.

Warning: If you have a bad heart (or you are a guy) STOP READING!!!

I saw a purse, a purse, a purse, a purse, a purse, a p-u-r-s-e that had the buy-it-now price of
$78,000.

FOR A PURSE!!!

You could buy a home in some parts of the country for that much money. You could feed an army for that much money. You could buy 78 overpriced at $1,000 purses for that much money. You could buy a couple of cars for that much money. You could (almost) add another story to your house for that much money. You could pay for 7.8 expensive $10,000 weddings for that much money. You could take the ultimate vacation (with your entire family and all of your friends) for that much money.

Maybe the person who buys the $78,000 purse would think my idea of an ultimate vacation for family and friends would be slummin' it.

Who buys a $78,000 purse? Really? Who?

Well, I'm not going to find my $30 or under purse if I keep writing and looking at $78,000 purses. At least they were cute. (Oh, yeah. There was more than one outrageously priced purse).

*****

I just logged on and showed Ryan the purse and I didn't put the right price down. The purse is not $78,000. It is $78,999. But what is an extra $999?

You Can Move to Seattle, Part II

I don't think I have much more to say about moving to Seattle but I said I would write part II of the post so, here I am writing...

When you do move to Seattle you can visit the Bal Mar in Ballard. My friend Krissy just celebrated her big Three-oh with friends at the Bal Mar; we went there this time last year, too and I remember it quite vividly because it was a warmish day and I was pregnant and none to happy about my state of ginormousness (no, it's not a word - yet) nor was I pleased that I could not enjoy one of their super cool cocktails, one of which is I'm a gimlet that I recall Krissy ordered.

Two other girlfriends who celebrated the big Two-nine with Krissy last year enjoyed cocktails are now in the other camp: Camp Preggo. I am SO happy I'm not in that camp right now. I can walk, I can eat brie, I can sleep (Gavin permitting), I can go more than 90 minutes without running to the bathroom to pee, I can breath (I really took breathing for granted before being pregnant).

Tonight I tried I'm a gimlet. I don't know what a gimlet is or why I would want to be one but the drink sure is tasty. It's like a mojito minus the sweetness. Yum. It's a tad strong, though and of course it was made even stronger by my empty stomach. So, word to the wise: eat first, drink second. But, really, who doesn't know that?

*****

I've been on Beacon Hill almost three years now. It's hard to believe that so much time has elapsed here. The house feels like home but the neighborhood doesn't give me a homey vibe. I know my neighbors and they are nice but it's not the same as West Seattle. This is definitely a neighborhood in transition. There isn't much to do up here although there are more places within walking distance than in our old neighborhood. There are three coffee shops, a library, and a smattering of places to eat that all close early and aren't really places where you would feel comfortable inviting friends and hanging out at.

As of November 1st I will have lived in Seattle for 7 years. SEVEN! Can you believe that? It's hard to believe that I've been up here half as long as I lived in Vancouver (14 years). Seattle is becoming my third home. Ryan and I were driving past a cemetery the other day and I told him that if I went before him he would have to spread my ashes in three places.

At Sunset Beach in Coos Bay (technically it's in Charleston) because my dad is buried in Coos Bay, in the Columbia River in Vancouver because that is where I spent the bulk of my growing up years and in the Puget Sound because that is where I'm at now. He balked not at the idea of me dying (because we were talking way out in the future) but at the idea of having to drive me in ashen form to Coos Bay and Vancouver. I often joke that it is a miracle that Ryan dated me while I was in Vancouver and he was in Seattle because he hates driving that much. He really loved me to drive almost 3 hours to see me.

So, here my wishes are in writing although I really doubt this blog will be in existence or if blogs period will be in existence in 60 or 7o years when I kick it. 70 years. I would be 101. Gavin would be 71! That's crazy! OK, I can't think about this anymore. I don't want to think about my little guy who is turning one next month as a 70 year old; it makes me sad to know that he is growing each day and turning into such a little boy. Of course, I would be really sad if he wasn't growing and developing.

What do you know? This post is being interrupted by a crying baby. I'm kind of glad he is waking up because I went out tonight and didn't get to kiss him good night.

You Can Move to Seattle Now

The storm has passed and it is now safe to move to Seattle. The storm was, of course, my temper tantrum over the less than stellar weather we were having. The clouds parted and the sun shone brightly again on Seattle turning it into the sparkling gem we all love and adore.

Today felt like the first day of Autumn. It was gray all day and the air had a cool bite to it but that's ok because we were given a few good summery days. My arms are open and ready to accept the rainy and blustery days ahead.

Fall is actually one of my favorite seasons. I have so many fond memories of overcast, wet Autumn weekends as a child. Mom would take us to the neighborhood club and we would go swimming for hours and walk home with wet hair and to warm us up mom would make hot cocoa and we would bake cookies. Instead of a fence we had a long row of arbor vitae in the back yard that created a lush green appearance in our back yard. The green grass was bordered by the green arbor vitae and was partially canopied by towering Evergreen trees; the back yard positively glowed green.

That glowing backyard and the plains are two of the things I miss about Vancouver. I didn't think seeing flat lands would be something I missed until I came up to Seattle, built on hills and in valleys and in the shadows of two mountain ranges. It is nice to be able to see beyond your nose sometimes.

I miss the Columbia River Gorge and the beautiful hikes to be had there. Sure, there are lots of places to hike up here but that would involve going out and looking for them. I had a friend in Vancouver who was always up for a drive to the Gorge, actually she was the one doing the calling and urging.

This post is being interrupted by a crying and I suspect hungry baby. I'll write part two tomorrow. Or not. I'll write it when I write it.

FINALLY

In the evenings after Gavin goes to bed you can usually find me on-line writing, reading, surfing the web in general. Lately I have been attempting to make a photobook. There are so many sites and they all send me coupons that are really specific.

Free shipping! for new customers on first order

45% off all orders! on all orders $100 or more

Save $25! when you buy an 8x12 book with premium leather cover


Save $50! for new customers on first order of 8x12 book with premium leather cover that total is greater than $200


For weeks now I have been attempting to make a photo book for Grandparents Day. Yes, there is a holiday for Grandparents - it's this weekend so sorry, grandparents, your photo books are going to be late. But don't blame me - blame snapfish and picaboo and Costco but mostly snapfish.


I have a feeling the problem isn't 100% Snapfish; I just may have a bit to do with the problem. Shocking, I know.

After spending hours upon hours upon hours uploading all of my photos from the external hard drive - and I mean all photos, starting with the digitals ones going back to 1999 - I then start to experiment with the kind of book I wanted to make while keeping it within my budget (3 sets of grandparents plus one aunt who is like a grandmother to Ryan - it adds up).

It took me a while but I got the hang of how to make a book. I was able to select the photos, arrange them and wa-la, a book was made! Now that the book was made the only step left in the long drawn out exhausting, tear inducing process was to pay for it.

All I had to do was pay for the stupid book. Enter in my credit card information and click 'submit'.

I'm a smart cookie. I entered my credit card number, expiration date, secret code, all of my billing information then I took a deep breath and was ready to be done with the making of this book and clicked on 'submit'.

A message in red lettering pops up on the screen telling me that they could not process my credit card. I double checked the information and resubmitted it only to have the same annoying message pop up and scream at me. (Red lettering is equal to screaming).

After checking the number again I took a closer look to the the icons next to the credit card number field. Visa, American Express, Something Else and Something Else.

Do you know what was missing? MasterCard!

Snapfish doesn't take MasterCard!

I was livid! How dare Snapfish not take my one and only credit card? Why isn't there a huge disclaimer that pops up BEFORE you make a photobook that all of your time will be a colossal waste of time if you happen to have a MasterCard.


******

Here it is a week later. The books are done; I think I used Shutterfly, shutterfish, shuttersomething. It went just fine. They cost a little more but if I would have started with them it would have been so much easier.

Does anyone out there have a company they like for photo printing and the like?

Tropical Storms and Stormy Toddlers

Today I experienced my very first Tropical Storm as did Ryan and Gavin (I don't think his baby calendar has a sticker for 1st Tropical Storm). Tropical Storm Hannah rolled through Great Falls, Virginia last night and stayed through the early part of this afternoon. Last night we had tickets at Wolf Trap, an outdoor theater, to see Les Miserables. My sister-in-law bought tickets for Ryan (and me) for his birthday and for her mom and step-dad for her mom's birthday.

The theater was quite amazing since there is outdoor seating and covered seating as well. My sister-in-law bought covered seats since it was predicted to rain that night. Good call on her part. It didn't just rain, it rained. It was a veritable deluge. The poor folks on the grass got soaked! But the show was so great they stayed through the rain. Unlike the rain we get at home it wasn't cold, the air was warm and the rain didn't chill.

Just before we took our seats I gave a brief synopsis of the story for the group and Ryan filled in the gaps. Last night was my third time seeing the show and it was Ryan's fourth and I can say without hesitation that we would go again in a heart beat. It is our favorite show. "Cats" is our least favorite show.

If you have never seen Cats, don't bother. Blech. B-o-r-i-n-g. Correction. It is B-O-R-I-N-G!
We stayed for the first two hours of the show and left at intermission.

OK, maybe the first part of the show was less than two hours but it felt like an eternity. We couldn't follow the story, the music, eh... except for "Memories", it was the last song before intermission.

If you have never seen Les Miserables you should GO, GO, GO, now! Get the music beforehand and familiarize yourself with the music, read the book, watch the movie. It is FANtastic!

But back the fierceness that is Hannah. The thick of her storminess came late this morning, just in time for my niece's birthday party. Local streets were flooded, power went out but we didn't notice because my sister-in-law's has a generator for such events and flash floods were predicted. If there were flash floods we didn't see any. It got pretty windy but I've seen windier conditions. The rain was pretty heavy so we were all quite impressed which puzzled the local East Coasters.

Ryan and I were sitting in the screened in porch listening to the cacophony the pouring rain was creating when someone stepped out and made small talk with us. I told him we were just enjoying the downpour since we don't get much rain like this at home. You could see the question on his face before he asked, "Don't you live in Seattle?" My brother-in-law asked the same thing, "Don't you get this all the time in Seattle?" Nope. Ours is a more constant drizzle, we don't often get the rain that blows in sideways by the bucketful.

Other than the tropical storm today we've had it pretty good as far as the weather is concerned. It has been hot, high 80's, low 90's and there has been humidity but not taking a bath humidity. It was pleasant enough that we were able to go the Great Falls National Park yesterday (long before Hannah rolled in) and walked high above the Potomac River where George Washington rode his horse and devised a plan to make the river navigable to increase trade and solidify the ties between the then sovereign states. His company made canals to circumvent the impassible portions of the river and locks to get boats and ships from the top of a fall to the bottom of a falls. I was a good tourist and read the placards.

Great Falls is very impressive. You can't think of Multnomah, Silver or Snoqualmie Falls as a comparative falls as they have an impressive height from which they cascade down. Great Falls can't hold a candle to the Northwest Falls height but the 'our' falls have nothing on Great Falls in terms of width. The Potomac has a great span, I would say you if you lined our falls side by side to cross the Great Falls you would need at least five of them.

On Thursday we drove in to D.C., less than a thirty minutes drive, and toured the National Crime and Punishment Museum. I would recommend this museum IF you have already been to D.C. and toured all of the free museums AND if you find Law & Order (pick one), CSI (pick one), Cold Case, Without a Trace, any crime show really except Matlock. If you like Matlock you probably aren't going to be up for hoofing it around D.C. anyway. I would not recommend buying the audio portion of the tour as it is really lame. After going through the EMP (Experience Music Project) in Seattle and listening to that audio tour nothing compares.

Friday we went back to D.C. with my Karl and Suzanne, (FIL & stepMIL) and went to the International Spy Museum. I would highly recommend this museum, even if you have not been to all of the free ones. We saw a camera that could take a picture of a document and reduce its size to that which would fit in punctuation, like this period: . Really. An entire document. The camera was called something along the lines of a dot camera, pretty creative.

So here I sit after the storm, after the party filled with toddlers who turn stormy after food, fun and candy and cake and ice cream. Gavin ate a dinner of oatmeal with mashed up blueberries and raspberries and bananas and one prune - just one prune. It was such a messy, sticky affair and as a result he got a bath tonight where he is really getting the hang of splashing the water. Fun for him, wet for me. OK, I have fun too, even when he stands up and hangs onto me with his slippery wet self.

He is now asleep and I'm ready to crash even though it is only 8:49 pm. My sister-in-law and her family are upstairs putting Erika to bed and they have Anna, the new baby we are here to meet. Ryan, his mom and step-dad are playing Hearts in the kitchen and Ryan's dad and step-mom went to a park. That leaves me alone in the living room and do you want to know what that means?

I JUST TURNED THE TV OFF!!!

Woo-hoo.

We are in someone else's house so the TV doesn't bother me too much but when it's at my house and people are visiting it drives me bonkers but I never want to say anything because they are my guests and they are usually on vacation so why shouldn't they watch TV?

That is one other reason I want to move the TV downstairs. That way if someone wants to watch TV then they can go downstairs and watch to their hearts content and I can stay up stairs and not have my ears subject to the constant noise of the TV. That and I tend to get sucked into the programs.

Everyone eventually returned to the living room, I finally had a chance to hold Anna while she slept. Ryan programmed Kristi & John's new cell phones and I went into the kitchen to finish this post. I guess I'm being anti-social right now. Oh, well. We can't all be together all of the time.

Tomorrow is Anna's baptism and another party. It should be great since the storm is passed and the sun is set to shine again. Maybe we can play some croquet although I'm a bit afraid to go out in the grass because the have ticks out here and copperhead snakes.

Journey of Self Discovery

Does 10 1/2 months seem awfully early for a baby to discover his nostrils? I think so. It has only been a day or two and the little G thinks it is wonderful that God gave him such a great play thing right on his face! As much as I want to discourage nose picking it is pretty cute to see him with his finger pointing at his nose . Ryan really thinks its cute and is trying to catch him with his finger up his nose for a great picture.

***

We finally got a good nose pick shot in the train at SeaTac so now I've moved onto discouraging his nostril expeditions. How does, "Gavin, we don't pick our noses," sound? And I do say 'we' because he has taken in interest in Mommy and Daddy's noses as well. I imagine our noses are much better for exploration because his fingers are so little and our nostrils are cavernous compared to his but I don't care how mean he thinks I am, my nostrils are off limits.

Hopefully by discouraging it now we can avoid the really gross nosepicking when he gets older and has better fine motor skills. Wishful thinking.

Don't Move to Seattle

What is up with this funky weather we are having up here in Seattle? Did Nature forget that this is August? August in Seattle is the BEST month! Rather, it is supposed to be the best month. Nothing but glorious blue skies allowing the sun's golden rays to tickle the water of the Puget Sound, Lakes Washington and Union giving the water logged, blinded by incessant gray Seattleites beautiful twinkling blue diamonds to gaze upon as we drive to work, school, the beach. There is not much that I find as stunning as Seattle on a sunny day. On the flip side when the sun is hidden behind a thick swatch of clouds the twinkling blue diamonds turn into lifeless gray bodies of water reflecting the gloom of the gray clouds and gray buildings that flank the waters edge.

Summer in the Northwest is not merely a time for fun in the sun. It is a time that we NEED. When else are we going to get Vitamin D?! When, I ask! We need the sun to sustain us through the long, gray, wet year. October - May and often into June and July SUCK in the Northwest. Sure we will get teasers, a couple of dry days coupled with blue skies in the winter are cold days for sure but they are BLUE days when you can see the foreign seldom seen yellow orb in the sky that people in other parts of the country know as the sun. On these days when the sun is out and it streams its bright, glorious light into your house or car you can feel the warmth and life it is giving. But these days are so rare. So very, very rare.

We usually get a couple of nice days thrown at us at random in the Spring when the sun is out, the clouds are few and fluffy and it gets just warm enough to roll down the windows in the car. I bet the homicide rates on these days drops drastically. Who wants to be all angry and go on a killing spree when the sun is out?

But then the clouds come back and we plunge back into darkness. We go on living. Living in the rain. Living in the cold. Living in the damp, the wet, the rainy, the mildewy weather. We go on living because we know, we know that once late July is here we will see the sun. All of that rain we put up with will keep everything around us, save the grass, green while we enjoy the heat of our incredibly short summer. We live for summer. Summer in the Northwest is like a glimpse into heaven. It gets just hot enough on some days that we are reminded that we do have it good, because even on the really, really hot days you still can't fry an egg on the sidewalk.

There are many a soul who have moved to Seattle after their torrid love affair with the summer. They see the beautiful, sleek Seattle with perky people everywhere. Our summer perk is a natural one; its when the clouds slither back that we turn to our dark, rich, coffee elixir to get us through the days that start dark and end dark.

Word to the wise: if you want to move to Seattle after visiting late July, August or September - DON'T. Come back in November when our basements are flooding and our glorious trees sway in the heavy winds and threaten to topple and take down our houses. Come back in the winter (or fall or spring) and I DARE you to wear light colored pants; you will after all only be walking from your car to the office (or store or mall), what harm could possibly come from that?

Bwa-ha-ha-ha.

It's days like these, usually preceded by a week of rain and gloom, that make Eastern Washington or Arizona look appealing. Until you learn that they have days that get well above 100 degrees. No thanks. I'll just complain about the bad days when they come in our incomprehensibly short summer and pray the sun returns for at least a few days before Autumn arrives.

I usually love the arrival of Autumn. The first rains feel like a great shower, cleaning off all of the grime that has accumulated over the dry summer, the pavement is all shiny and sleek, the grass returns to its green color. The air is fresher. But how can I possibly enjoy the onset of Autumn when its starting in FREAKIN' August? It just not right!

I should go make some cocoa and toast and put on a robe and slippers and admit defeat. The sun will return again next year and I will be right here, water logged and waiting for its glorious rays to fill me to sustain me for another year.

Stinkin' Liberals

The Democratic National Convention kicked off today in Denver. Obama is gearing up to accept the nomination. The impending election is adding electricity to the air. So much so that Ryan has talked politics more in the last month with me than he has in the entire course of our relationship.

I believe there are two reasons he is talking politics with me.

Reason #1: Fear. He is afraid I'm going to vote for John McCain. He doesn't hate McCain, he is just fed up with the war in Iraq, especially now when we are having so many financial troubles at home (and by home I mean in the larger sense of America).

Reason #2: Safety. He feels safe to talk to me about politics now that I've dialed the crazy back a little. I used to be a little on the uh, shall we say, passionate side when it came to politics and if you didn't see things my way, then well, you were just plain wrong. And stupid to boot.

It's amazing how open a person can be when they don't fear being attacked. I wasn't much to fear, though. I can't argue my way out of a wet paper bag. Not with logic and reason anyway. I am, however, great at making sweeping generalizations and making references to "them" and "they" and "studies" and "recent statistics". I am not so great at references, names of publications from said studies and the numbers behind the statistics.

Now if I want to argue a point I stop and try to collect my thought and organize them. Once I realize the thoughts are pretty random and based mostly on emotions I shrug my shoulders and say, "eh".

So, the DNC (aside, am I the only one who thinks of a D&C when you hear DNC?) is under way. Yep. I am a little interested in the events. Brace yourself, Mom. Wendy, Joel, Ike (oh, wait, you live in the stone age and don't have a computer so you will have to get this info in person), anyone else who has known me longer than 7 years.

I think I am going to vote for Barak Obama. Yep. Come November I will fill in the oval next to the Democrats candidate.

Gulp.

Talk about taking a leap.

I don't think my aunts who live in the area have the address to this blog. I think I will not share this bit of information with them since they are a little more passionate about politics than I am - and they have the ability to use reason, logic and facts in an argument! Deadly combination for me.

Ryan and I were talking about McCain and Obama at dinner last night. Neither of us think McCain is bad. We do think he is really, really old and that he will continue to push the same agenda in Iraq. Both of us are sick of the hemorrhage of funds that are flowing into that region when our dollar is tanking at home and abroad.

Of course, now that I am a mother I think more about the loss of our soldiers. Every day the body count grows and grows. I never understood why my mom didn't want my brothers to join the military until I had Gavin. As much as I appreciate the Armed Forces I think I would be a basket case if Gavin decided to join the military.

Ryan and I are in agreement that McCain would be a better president from a military standpoint but that Obama would be better for domestic issues.

I kind of like the presidential races where there is a candidate that I hate, well, that is such a strong word - a candidate that makes me want to retch when I see his face. That's better. Some politicians make it easy, like making claims that they invented the Internet or that they were under hostile gunfire when visiting Serbia (Croatia?) and later saying she remembered wrong (really? Were you remembering the other time you were under gunfire?).

There you have it folks. This is big news. Big. After 7 years of living in Seattle "they" finally got to me. I'm one of "them" now. I am in favor of big government taxing us all into poverty so we can all share a little rather than some have a lot. (Just kidding - that is for the benefit of my brother).

Scofflaw

Cue Western high noon show down music: April just entered the room. And repeat music.

There is a stretch on the West Seattle Bridge where everyone speeds; the stretch where everyone speeds spans the entire length of the bridge. The speed limit on the narrow portion that is two lanes in either direction separated by a tiny 18" barrier is 35 but once it widens to 3 and 4 lanes in each direction the speed limit goes up to 45.

Those are the post speed limits but if you do not drive at least 10 mph over the speed limit you can plan on creating an angry wake of tailgaters. I've caught myself many a time zipping along at 50 mph, going with the flow of traffic, in the 35 mph stretch. When I catch myself going that fast I take it down to 43 or 44. I am one of those people who actually believe that a cop will be less likely to pull you over if your speed is not in excess of 10 mph over the limit.

You never see people get pulled over on the eastbound side of the bridge but the cops often set up clever speed traps on the westbound side - they must love it - it's like shooting fish in a barrel. The motorcycle patrol comes out in full force, there have to be at least 4 or 5 cops working the westbound side. A couple of cops parks their bikes at the top of on ramp of a permanently closed ramp and point their radar guns at the cars speeding by then take off after the speeder. The cars pull over in one little area if they are able to, if not they take the next exit. The cop, after writing a ticket, drives east a couple of blocks on the street below the bridge and gets back on at the closed ramp. He just does circles really. Up the ramp, nab a speeder, down the ramp, write a ticket, back up the ramp and round and round he goes.

So today I am driving to West Seattle as I was taking some stuff to a friends house. I was being a particularly well behaved citizen as I was only going 5 miles over the speed limit. Maybe that doesn't make me good so much as it makes me less bad. At any rate, I was inching along the narrow portion of the bridge at a leisurely pace of 40 miles per hour. This infuriated the woman driving a truck behind me. To add to her frustration (and eventually my glee) was that she couldn't pass me because there was someone else next to me who was also feeling like a good citizen and was only breaking the law by 5 mph as well.

Sometimes I feel for the person and will make an attempt to get out of their way. Today was not such a day. The woman's scowl, the way she was hunched up over the steering wheel and lets not forget the most important reason she stayed behind me was that she was on my tail. I said, "Oh, you want me to slow down even more do ya?" as if she could hear me. But I don't like it to make it really obvious I'm slowing down just to get under her skin so I just eased up on the gas a bit. Take that, angry lady! Besides, the lanes were going to open up and she could very easily pass me.

Which she did. She took her first opportunity and jumped out ahead of me and slowed down! Well! I didn't think I was that obnoxious. I only slowed down a mile or two an hour, technically, I was still speeding. If I had wanted to be super annoying I would have slowed down to the post speed limit.

As I was thinking grumpy thoughts about this woman who was in such a hurry to get around me because I wasn't breaking the law by great enough of a margin I saw the dreaded motorcycle cop.

They changed up their routine! There was only one and he was at the gore of the last exit before the bridge turned into 35th Avenue at the top of the hill. (Gore, not just a former vice president, inventor of the Internet and Nobel Peace Prize winner, a gore is the name of the painted triangular space between on/off ramps and the lanes of the highway. Yes, I am married to a transportation engineer, and yes, I am a geek). So... there was Mr. Officer on his hog with his radar gun. He pointed it at Ms. Angry Tailgater then, after checking the speed, he put me in its sights! It was too late! I hit the brakes and said, "Ah! But I was going so slow and she was tailgating me!" out loud, as if he could hear me. As if he would care even if he could hear me.

The officers next action is one that strikes fear in the hearts of drivers across the nation. He checked the speed then put the gun away and pulled out into traffic! I was the last one he pointed it at! He was coming after me! Me! I was only a mild breaker of the law! Doesn't he know it's all relative? Why me? Why?

There I am, now going the speed limit and thinking about what I'm going to do when he catches up to me and pulls me over. I peek in the rear view mirror and see him way, way back there and I saw a brief flash of blue and white lights. It was then that I realized how far behind me he was and that he never gestured at me and that we were approaching a pretty big turn before we hit 35th. With several cars between me and the cop I prayed for a green light when we hit 35th so he wouldn't have a chance to catch up to me and find me, if I was his intended target, that is.

The sun was shining on me because the light stayed green and nary a cop with flashing lights to be found I made a very sharp turn that took me immediately into a residential neighborhood and away from the flow on the majority of the traffic.

No ticket for me today.

When I told Ryan this story he asked me, "So, you out ran a cop?"

Let me be clear: I did not out run a cop. I only think that he was going to pull me over. He did not give me any indication that he wanted me to pull over; sure I never gave him a chance to give me a sign but whose fault is that? Really. I know I watch a lot of Law & Order and CSI (just the original, thank you very much) but I don't think I outfoxed the cop. He probably was after someone else.

OR... I became his white whale today! The one that got away. He is Captain Ahab and I'm Moby. Or he's the traffic cop and I'm Newman from Seinfeld. You know, neither analogy is all that flattering to me so I'm just going to stop.

Silly Happiness

If you read my previous post, "Silly Sadness" then you probably have an inkling as to where this post is going.

It was with zero expectations that I went to pick up my beautiful, well fitting, twice worn, aqua blue, button up blouse from the cleaners on Thursday. I was not expecting them to get the chocolate stain out of the fabric since I had already washed it three times with two different stain removers. Over and over on the long walk down Beacon Avenue I told myself that the stain would still be there, that there was no way they could get it out.

Gavin and I strolled up to the corner gas station turned dry cleaners and hoisted Gavin's deluxe ride onto the tall sidewalk that surrounded the building, clearly built before anyone considered the physically disabled, and shoved our way through the narrow door and oh-so gently rang the bell for service when it was obvious they didn't hear the bells jingle when I opened the door.

The owner came up to assist me. He took my ticket and returned with my beautiful, well fitting, twice worn, aqua blue, button up blouse from the spinning rack. "Ah," he said, remembering me, the sad lady with the beautiful, well fitting, twice worn, aqua blue, button up blouse, "the chocolate stain. You washed. Tsk, tsk, tsk. The water set the stain." He then proceeded to show me the stain, just as it was when I entrusted my garment to him on Saturday afternoon.
I wasn't upset since they were upfront and told me they probably would not be able to get the stain out.

So why am I so happy? I'm glad you asked!

Oxo Brite (Trader Joe's version of Oxi Bright, I assume) is why. Just last week I was able to restore some of Gavin's clothes that were left at the bottom of the hamper for a week with food on them that ended up growing mildew (gross). I washed them with bleach but the mildew persisted. I soaked them in an obscene amount of Oxo Brite over night and wa-la! Bye bye mildew! The container of Oxo Brite says to start with a small amount and soak for an hour and slowly add more product until the stain comes out but instead of soaking the garments in one scoop, then two scoops, then three scoops, then four scoops I just skipped ahead to the last step and soaked them in five scoops for 8 hours or so.

Yesterday I put my beautiful, well fitting, twice worn, aqua blue, button up blouse in a bucket of warm water that had at least 4 scoops of Oxo Brite. The water turned aqua, as did two white onsies that I had soaking in there as well, with just a hint of chocolate. OK, you couldn't see the chocolate in the water but it had to be there because it wasn't on my beautiful, well fitting, twice worn, aqua blue, button up blouse!

It is in the wash right now and I hope that it fits just as well as it did before since I had to soak the cold water wash only garment in warm water in my last ditch effort to get the chocolate out.

We'll see.

Photographs from the 'Couv and Beyond!

Here are some pictures from our visit to Vancouver from last week (and one in Olympia and some from home). The first batch of pictures were taken in downtown Vancouver at Esther Shore Park. The second set are at my mom & dad's house, the swimming set are from a picnic in downtown Camas - the part that remains free of chain restaurants and strip malls and McMansions.

Gavin crawling in the 'river bed' at Esther Shore Park in downtown Vancouver

He's cute from any angle! Look at that adorable noggin!

Gavin and his cousin Laura whose birthday is today! Happy 10th B-day, Laura!

Gavin getting a steadying hand from his beloved mommy

Nephew Matthew looks just like his dad, my brother, Ike.

The G exploring the pebble river bed

Nana Jo holding wet Baby Gavin. Now that's love.

Hot and all tuckered out after a fun picnic at Esther Shore Park with Nana Jo, Aunt Jenny and cousins Laura and Matthew.

These grapes are yummy!

Laura giving younger brother Matthew her older sisterly look of scorn.

Sleeping in his Pack 'N Play like the angel he is.

Sampling a toy

Matthew swimming in the Camas Pool

Gavin hanging out in the baby wading pool in Camas

Brother Ike and his daughter, Laura

Mmm, green toy

Grandpa Bob holding a very cranky Gavin while Grandma Martha preps for another shot (the next shot didn't turn out as well as this one).

Lesson I learned from this picture: take the picture when you arrive, not when you are trying to scram because baby is melting down.

Quite the contrast to the above picture, eh? Doesn't he look like a young Indiana Jones? So dashing!

Nakedness

There is a woman at the club who baffles me. She doesn't close the curtain on the shower when she's washing up after her workout. The shower stalls are all quite large and all are equipped with shower curtains. I don't know why she doesn't close the curtain. I'm guessing it is because she doesn't care if everyone sees her naked and shaving her legs.

Part of me doesn't understand why I care. It is a locker room; naked women abound. We undress and walk to the shower naked but once at the shower we step inside and promptly close the curtain. Some of us will make a quick stop at the scale on our way to the shower to get the most accurate and favorable weight measurement - naked and in a semi dehydrated state after sweating in a workout. We NEVER weigh ourselves after the shower because well, duh, wet hair is heavy.

I'm not puritanical in my views of nudity. If someone wants to go to a nude beach I could care less. If that same person wants to parade around their home naked, more power to 'em (although I would not like to sit on their couch as a guest in their home). If a woman wants to breastfeed in public I don't care - heck, I've done my fair share of breastfeeding outside of my home. I know breastfeeding is not the same as nudity but some people out there get really worked up if they see a baby attached to a bare breast. I'm not of the group that thinks seeing a woman breastfeed is like seeing the face of God but I'm also not of the group that would say, "Sure, it's a natural process but so is defecating." Ryan was really uncomfortable when I was breastfeeding Gavin on an airplane without using my cover. He kept asking me if I wanted my cover. Finally I told him if he wanted me to us it then I would. It took him all of 2 seconds to fish the cover out of the back pack that was shoved under the seat.

If someone saw me feeding Gavin and caught a glimpse of me way over by the window while they were looking for their seat where's the harm in that? I am pretty discreet when feeding him. I see lots of women at church feed their babies, one woman went sans the cover. Brave. I'm not quite there to do it without a cover in church because I guess I'm a hypocrite. Why do it on an airplane but not in church, the house of the One who made the boob?

Several years ago I went to the Olympus Day Spa in Lakewood (down by Tacoma) with several girlfriends for a day of pampering in the women's only spa. There was a large room filled with soaking tubs and saunas and an area for massages - all clothing was prohibited. We stripped down, took showers then went from tub to tub that had various herbs, and potions and whatever in them and each one was a different temperature. It was a little uncomfortable at first but after a while the woman who weighed at least 300 pounds didn't seem so misshapen and the skinny girls didn't seem so stick like. We all became human and our flesh was there merely to house our souls.

About 6 months after Ryan and I were married we went to Vegas right after the New Year for a long weekend. Since we aren't big gamblers (read: penny pinchers who can't bear the thought of throwing away money) we saw tons of shows (one could argue that we threw money away on shows, too). We stayed at the Venetian and walked everyday down to the other end of the strip and spent most of our time at the Tropicana because they had the best players club deals that we could find. After getting our players club cards we gambled for 2 hours. Boy, are we ever high rollers. I took my $20 that I set aside for gambling, I think Ryan's mom gave us each some cash as a Christmas present for gambling in Vegas, and went to the penny slots. That was fun. I really turned up the heat when I went to the nickel slots and won $60 on a nickel at the Yahtzee game. When I got a Yahtzee! the dice the came rolling out the cup on the screen stood up and started dancing; those dancing dice were so darn cute!

Our objective for the two hours was to rack up points for 'free' entertainment from the Tropicana, 'free' t-shirts (both of which we still wear - at the gym, while painting and doing yard work), 'free' cards and of course, 'free' food. As I played with the pennies in my bucket and enjoyed ordering 'free' drinks from the cocktail waitresse my fingers turned black. Ryan's fingers stayed pristine white because he preferred to stick a bill in the machine then just push buttons. Your pennies last a lot longer when you have to put each one into the machine.

This story does get back to nudity, don't you worry.

Of the shows we 'won' for 'free' one was a burlesque/french review show. I was adamant about going to the 7 pm family friendly show but it interfered with another show, I think the medieval jousting dinner theater we already had planned, so I finally relented and we signed up for the 10 pm adults only show.

Boy, did we ever get more than we bargained for. We were seated front and center of the stage. And I mean front and center. I was butted up against the stage at our table and Ryan was right next to me. We had to crane our necks to the see the show. Of course it was a little weird at first seeing all of these women dancing around topless. After a few minutes it was even weirder because the women dancing around topless could have been men for all we noticed their breasts. After the show Ryan said to me, "I'm not just saying this to make you happy but didn't they seem like guys after a while?" Too bad he couldn't have enjoyed the show more than he did. OK, not really. I was pretty happy the dancers turned into asexual beings after just a few moments. It turned out to be one of my favorite shows.

I feel like I should not be bothered by the woman at the gym seeing as how I enjoyed the French review show, breastfeed in public, and went to a women's only clothing forbidden day spa. Maybe the woman's inability to close the shower curtain doesn't bother me. Maybe I just find it curious that she doesn't care what other people think about her.

Or... she thinks she all that and wants everyone to see. Too bad for her there aren't co-ed locker rooms. I wonder if she would close the curtain then?

Wanna Feel Old? Read This Post

This is a list complied annually by Beloit College to help professors understand their incoming Freshman class; it also helps the students understand that their short time on planet earth has not been the same since time began (you know, way back in the 80's).

Beloit College Mindset List
A snapshot of the world view of the Class of 2012

1. Harry Potter could be a classmate, playing on their Quidditch team.
2. Since they were in diapers, karaoke machines have been annoying people at parties.
3. They have always been looking for Carmen Sandiego.
4. GPS satellite navigation systems have always been available.
5. Coke and Pepsi have always used recycled plastic bottles.
6. Shampoo and conditioner have always been available in the same bottle.
7. Gas stations have never fixed flats, but most serve cappuccino.
8. Their parents may have dropped them in shock when they heard George Bush announce "tax revenue increases."
9. Electronic filing of tax returns has always been an option.
10. Girls in head scarves have always been part of the school fashion scene.
11. All have had a relative — or known about a friend's relative - who died comfortably at home with hospice.
12. As a precursor to "whatever," they have recognized that some people "just don't get it."
13. Universal Studios has always offered an alternative to Mickey in Orlando.
14. Grandma has always had wheels on her walker.
15. Martha Stewart Living has always been setting the style.
16. Haagen-Dazs ice cream has always come in quarts.
17. Club Med resorts have always been places to take the whole family.
18. WWW has never stood for World Wide Wrestling.
19. Films have never been X rated, only NC-17.
20. The Warsaw Pact is as hazy for them as the League of Nations was for their parents.
21. Students have always been "Rocking the Vote."
22. Clarence Thomas has always sat on the Supreme Court.
23. Schools have always been concerned about multiculturalism.
24. We have always known that "All I Ever Really Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten."
25. There have always been gay rabbis.
26. Wayne Newton has never had a mustache.
27. College grads have always been able to Teach for America.
28. IBM has never made typewriters.
29. Roseanne Barr has never been invited to sing the National Anthem again.
30. McDonald's and Burger King have always used vegetable oil for cooking french fries.
31. They have never been able to color a tree using a raw umber Crayola.
32. There has always been Pearl Jam.
33. The Tonight Show has always been hosted by Jay Leno and started at 11:35 EST.
34. Pee-Wee has never been in his playhouse during the day.
35. They never tasted Benefit Cereal with psyllium.
36. They may have been given a Nintendo Game Boy to play with in the crib.
37. Authorities have always been building a wall across the Mexican border.
38. Lenin's name has never been on a major city in Russia.
39. Employers have always been able to do credit checks on employees.
40. Balsamic vinegar has always been available in the U.S.
41. Macaulay Culkin has always been "Home Alone."
42. Their parents may have watched "The American Gladiators" on TV the day they were born.
43. Personal privacy has always been threatened.
44. Caller ID has always been available on phones.
45. Living wills have always been asked for at hospital check-ins.
46. The Green Bay Packers (almost) always had the same starting quarterback.
47. They never heard an attendant ask "Want me to check under the hood?"
48. Iced tea has always come in cans and bottles.
49. Soft drink refills have always been free.
50. They have never known life without Seinfeld references from a show about "nothing."
51. The Windows 3.0 operating system made IBM PCs user-friendly the year they were born.
52. Moscow residents have always been able to buy Big Macs.
53. The Royal New Zealand Navy has never been permitted a daily ration of rum.
54. The Hubble Space Telescope has always been eavesdropping on the heavens.
55. 98.6 F or otherwise has always been confirmed in the ear.
56. Michael Milken has always been a philanthropist promoting prostate cancer research.
57. Offshore oil drilling in the United States has always been prohibited.
58. Radio stations have never been required to present both sides of public issues.
59. There have always been charter schools.
60. Students always had Goosebumps.Source: The Associated Press

Updated: 6:13 p.m. ET Aug. 18, 2008© 2008 MSNBC.com
URL: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26271355/?GT1=43001

I like #32: I don't want to imagine a life without Pearl Jam. C'mon.

I wonder what the list is going to include when Gavin is a college Freshman in 2025 (quick math check: born 2007 + 6 years = 2013 kindergarten debut; 2013 + 12 = 2025). I also wonder what year 'car windows have never rolled down with the use of a handle and manual labor' will make the list.

There is a lot more that I wonder. If you don't believe me just ask Ryan he always hears me ask, "Do you ever wonder...." his reply is ALWAYS (with one exception): no. The one exception was posed while watching Queer Eye for the Straight Guy: Do you wonder if any of the Fab Five dated each other?

I could see the 'n' starting to form on his lips before a funny looked crossed his face and he said, "Yes. Yes, I do wonder." Of course I was over the moon, "You wondered about something!" It was a moment for the history books.

Fortunately my 'do you wonder' questions don't annoy him (too much) because I have a feeling they are going to be nothing compared to the "why?" phase that Gavin will be entering into here before long.

Did #31 shock anyone else? I didn't know raw umber was gone from the crayon box! Sure it was an ugly and color good only for coloring Boston Baked Beans (another gross candy they probably don't know about).