NINE!

Nine years old. I can't believe it.

Nine years since he captured my heart, 

entering the world backwards and loudly and in a completely unexpected way.

Eight years since he learned to walk. 

Seven years since he decided to talk. 

Six years since he learned to use the toilet. 

Five years since he went to preschool and learned to read. 

Four years since he went to kindergarten and realized he is smarter than I am. 

Three years since he learned to ride a bike with no training wheels. 

Two years since he figured out how to turn a flip into the pool. 

One year since he discovered the power of making other people laugh.

To me, though...when I watch him sleeping, or catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye, or when he grabs my hand as we walk across a busy street...

He still looks like this...oatmeal and all...

What? It's Homemade? WTH?

So. In the last week I have:

1. made whole wheat pizza crust
2. made whole wheat bread
3. made half whole wheat tortillas
4. made beer bread

And in doing such, I've discovered a few things:

1. I like baking (and eating) homemade bread
2. Dr. SmartyPants likes eating homemade bread
3. Joshua likes eating homemade bread
4. BEER bread? Yeah - 'nuf said.
5. Don't overcook the tortillas.
6. Derek does NOT like anything that I make from scratch. If it doesn't come in a bag or a box from the grocery store, it doesn't taste good. Especially if it is "organic." Please understand that he says it just that way - with the air quotes, as if I said, "Hey Derek! Come here and eat this poop I found in the back yard! It's "organic!"

I've also discovered that if I reheat the pizza on the homemade whole wheat pizza crust for lunch the next day, it suddenly tastes just dandy to Derek, and he'll eat every last bite, because he totally forgot it was homemade.

Ha! Suckah...

I Don't Mean to Brag. Oh Wait. Yes...Yes I Do.

Do you see that bread up there?

That gorgeous, artisan whole wheat loaf of yummy deliciousness?

I made it.

With my own two hands. And a mixer up to the point where it got too gooey and I cast it aside and plunged my own two hands into the goop.

Now. Those who know me know how out of character this whole process is.

A: I did not use a mix.
B: I did not pay someone else to do it.
C: It involved the oven.
4: My hands got gooey stuff on them, and
E: I actually enjoyed the process.

I am not sure what has happened to me.

The recipe I used was from the back of the flour bag, but I found it here, if you're in the mood for a yummy home made bread. It is NOT a dinner roll recipe, despite what the photo might lead you to believe, BUT as I don't bake much outside the occasional birthday cake (from a mix) or lemon poppy seed muffins (from a mix) or brownies (from a mix), I didn't have a loaf pan.

I didn't actually realize I didn't have a loaf pan until I was midway through the first rise and I went to look for my loaf pan and remembered it was in Tennessee, and then I panicked, and then I improvised. I just cut the dough into 8 pieces and rolled it up into balls and slapped it into a round cake pan and made mini loaves.

And then this morning, I cut a mini roll-like loaf into 5 teeny slices and added butter and cinnamon sugar and broiled it and promptly died of glee.

Park it Here.

My gym teacher in the 8th grade was named Ms. Park.

I had a weird habit of saying everyone's names backward in my head back then. In fact, I still do it.

Linda...Adnil
Melinda...Adnilem
Derek...Kered
Joshua...Auhsoj

Hi.  My name is Nhaid Nosnhoj Tto.

I used to ride in the backseat of the car and point out helpful things like "Hey Mom... Mom... Mom."

"What, dear."

"Did you know that Ford spelled backward is Drof? That's weird. Drof. D.R.O.F"

Mom...whispering, "you're weird."

"What Mom?"

"Oh, nothing, sweetie. That's very interesting. Let's play the quiet game."

So, anyway. Back to Ms. Park...

See... what happens when I play this little mental game is that IN MY MIND that becomes the person's name.

So her name was Sm. Krap.

Which meant that every time I walked in gym class, I snickered and said, "some crap," under my breath.

Which could explain why I was always used as the demonstration target for Dodgeball...

"JOHNSON! Go stand on the Cougar in the middle of the gym. I want to show the rest of the class the "No Hit Zones."

I still flinch every time I see a ball coming toward me.

It's Official

I am the world's most boring human.

I just put Dr. SmartyPants to sleep, telling him about my plan for the next couple of weeks' menus. And how frugal I'm going to be.

With my menu planning.

Using my Gmail calendar.






whoa.
I almost put myself to sleep.

I'm going to go read a book about carbon fiber nanotechnological advancements in aerospace engineering so I can keep him awake next time we have a moment to talk.

Or I can share with him the next year's curriculum ideas and how I'm going to organize all of it by color.



Zzzzzzz...slobber...startle...wha?
Dang.

Avert Your Eyes

I adore this photo of Joshua. It just, well, it looks just like him. This is the real Joshua - the goofball kid that makes stupid jokes and then laughs at them whether anyone joins in or not. He's such a little comedian.
*********************************
The running thing is still going - ankles are still holding out. My boys have slacked off and I had to get them back on track (literally! on track!) today. It's exhausting being the cheerleader sometimes.

"Come on! You can do it! Just one more minute!"

Combine that with the fact that I'm also the coach...

"Head up! Don't slump! Faster! Go Go Go!"

And also one of the athletes trudging alongside them, and it makes for one tired mama. The only way I can figure out to make it work is to do my run (so I can run at my ideal pace) AND theirs (so I can motivate them to not give up), which is great for my fitness level, but not always great for my attitude.

"Why would you do that?" I can hear some of you asking...

Well - here's the thing.  I have one child who is a natural born runner. He runs with ease, looks comfortable doing it, can run farther and faster than my other one.  But he struggles with motivation..."why am I doing this again?"

The other child struggles a bit with gross motor control - he slumps and shuffles and drags his feet. He gets cramps and pains and has a harder time breathing. He would honestly rather sit on a couch all day long every single day and stare at a wall than participate in most forms of exercise.

Like getting up and walking to the bathroom. Or breathing regularly.

BUT. Sitting on a couch all day and not moving is not really an option in this family. Not anymore, anyway. We (Dr. SmartyPants and I) have been guilty of couch potato-itis over the past decade. We've been watching our health slowly deteriorate into a post-40 haze of remember-whens, and we're just not going to continue down that slippery-slope.

So, yes - maybe on Friday I'll get up and go for my run early in the morning and then come home and drag my reluctant children out of the bed to go for theirs before it gets too hot...maybe I'll shuffle run alongside them for an extra 30 minutes of activity...maybe that's a little nuts...

But I'm operating on the belief that good habits will be forming in their little brains, that the satisfaction of a job well done will win out over the pull of the sofa, and that good triumphs over evil.

Okay. That last one may not fit there, but I felt the need for three points.

For now?

Now I think I need a nap.

TFR and the Leftovers

Well, since I talked about Chico yesterday, I feel like I have to spend a little time on Raikki today. Sweet, sweet Raikki...the polar opposite of Chico.  Where Chico growls, Raikki whimpers. Where Chico charges, Raikki ducks and covers. Where Chico snaps, Raikki slobbers.

And slobbers.

And then he might drool.

Anyhow - Raikki had a bit of surgery whilst we were in Knoxville. We waited until we could go to our vet there, because they are awesome, as I may have mentioned yesterday. We also waited because the cost for the particular surgery that he needed was twice as expensive at the vet here in Arlington.

No joke. DOUBLE. THE. COST.

Just to remove a couple of things. You know. Yes. Those.

So. The boys were curious about the surgery, given the nature of it. They know just enough about reproduction to understand that it takes a male and a female, a sperm and an egg, but they understand it from more of a fish perspective...the female lays some eggs, the male swims over it and deposits the sperm - there's no contact between the two.

They also understand that mammals carry their young in their bellies, and therefore things must work differently between fish and mammals.

After we dropped Raikki off at the vet for his surgery, as we were driving home, Derek pipes up from the back seat.

"Hey Mom." (because every sentence that proceeds from his mouth must be prefaced by that phrase, regardless of whether there is anyone else in the car or room at that particular time.)

"Yes?" (because if I don't say "yes," he will just say "hey mom" again until I answer.)

"How does removing Raikki's testicles prevent him from making puppies?"

*hands gripping steering wheel a little more tightly* "Well, honey - you know that to make babies, you need an egg and sperm, right? Testicles are the sperm factory, so if he doesn't have any, he can't make any sperm."

"Oh. Okay."

*hands relax briefly*

"Hey Mom?"

*stomach clenches, hands grip* "Yes?"

"I know you need an egg and a sperm and all that, but how do the egg and the sperm get together?"

*panic. hyperventilate. slow down. remember to drive.* "Well, son. That's a bigger conversation than we can have in the car. We'll talk about it with your dad when he gets home, okay?"

"Okay."

*pass out. wake up. continue to drive home.*

"Hey Mom?" (this time it's Joshua.)

"Yes?" (the same rules apply.)

"I have a new name for Raikki." (remember his acronym fascination?)

"What's that?"

"TFR. Get it? Testicle Free Raikki!" (much laughter ensues, including from me.)

Later that afternoon, we headed back to the vet to pick him up, and the boys were rather fascinated with how things looked different.

"Hey guys - we'll have to be really careful with Raikki and make sure his stitches don't get pulled or anything."

"Stitches? Where does he have stitches?" (Derek again.)

"OH. Right." (as it dawns on him.) "In his leftovers..."

Adventures in Parenting, of a sort...

So, the boys and I spent two solid weeks at our house in Knoxville, battling spiders and weeds and overgrown crepe myrtles and wasps. We had the Orkin Man come out for an extra visit, and he found a couple of nests on the fort and killed them. He looked under the deck and said we were all clear. Dr. SmartyPants did a check when he arrived as well, because I was getting two or three (or more) wasps in the house daily. He looked under the same deck and found two nests to kill, plus one under the bay window next to the deck.

Ahem. So, anyway...

One evening, we were getting ready to have dinner with some friends, and Dr. SmartyPants let the dogs out to do their doggie bidness before we crated them. Chico, the grouchy grumpypants chihuahua ducked under our deck just long enough to enrage the wasps that had take up residence there - he came running back out with five or six following him.

We got him in the house and examined him - I found one big red lump on top of his head, but he seemed okay. I gave him a benadryl, loaded up his Kong with peanut butter and he hopped in his crate.

While I was helping Joshua find his shoes, the Smarty called me over to have a look at Senor Chico. He was standing in the crate, licking the peanut butter out of his Kong, but his feet were all pointing in different directions, and he was listing to the left.

I opened the crate and called him out and he kind of stumbled out and fell into my lap. His tongue and gums were almost white and his eyes were twitching. I called the vet and they told us to bring him in right away. (note to my Knoxville peeps - the vet tech at Cedar Bluff Animal Clinic was waiting at the front door for me - she grabbed him and headed back to start treatment immediately - fantastic people there...)

Poor guy had gone into anaphylactic shock! After an intense hour of serious veterinary care, including fluids, steroids and more benadryl, they let him come home with us. We had to watch him overnight pretty carefully, just in case the symptoms came back.

The vet found and removed four or five stingers, including one INSIDE HIS EYELID.

That's five wasp stings for a 10 pound dog.

He's doing fine now - I had started to worry, because he was being really nice to everyone, including Raikki.

But His Grumpiness has returned...now with extra venom.

Dear Orkin Man...

You're fired.

Unicorns and Fairy Dust and a Quest

The league of magical creatures has petitioned to have Raikki's tongue designated as a safe landing zone, much like an aircraft carrier, as it is ridiculously long and wide and quite wet.
**************************************************************

I am petitioning to have my toe with the bone spur re-labeled a "Magical Unicorn Toe," because the bone spur actually looks just like a unicorn horn in the x-ray and it makes me feel less old and worn. I shall name him Fred, the Magical Unicorn Toe, and his very presence will make me run like the breeze on a mid-summer's evening.

I'm going to get a rainbow tattoo right on top of Fred. And then, when I run, magical fairy dust shall float about it and drift southward and all the oil in the Gulf of Mexico shall be instantly free of crude and Mark will have to back to towing around barges in New York.

No, I haven't been drinking.

Much.
*************************
I'm heading south, myself tomorrow, though not as far as the Gulf. The boys and I will be spending a couple of weeks in Knoxville, to catch up with friends and neighbors and things we miss while living up here. Melinda and her ENTIRE CREW are heading up to the Smoky Mountains for vacation during the second week that we're there, so we'll be making a few quick trips up to the mountains, as well.

I'm only a teensy bit excited about that one.

Linda and the boys and I are going out on a Photo Walk on Saturday, to play with our cameras and have some fun - I'm really looking forward to it! I'm going to let the boys experiment with my old dSLR, as well as their point and shoot cameras - I can't wait to see what they come up with.

Of course, being in Knoxville means that I won't have access to internet like I do here, so things will slow down a bit here and on quirk. I'll find a few days in there that I can post, but it may be fairly sporadic...

Sooo...while I'm away, if you have a minute, feel free to drop me a comment or three and tell me how you're doing, okay?

I always miss you when I'm gone...

Delicate Flower? I Scoff at Your Description

After a three week break, I started running again. And all the men in my house rejoiced with the rejoicing of angels for BEHOLD!

Mama wasn't so grumpy anymore.

Can I get a hallelujah, people?

I went back to the orthopaedist today, just to make sure I wasn't likely to do any lasting damage, and basically what I found was...

...I'm not as young as I think I am. I've got a little plantar fasciitis, because my arches are extraordinarily high. Seriously. The doctor commented on it three or four times. I am a freakish high-arch medical marvel.

I've also got some tendinitis in my uh, tendon that goes around the ankle and up to the calf. The treatment is pretty simple - stretching, anti-inflammatory drugs, arch supports. I can keep running. (yay.)

I also have bone spurs in my other foot, at the joint where my big toe connects into my foot. Not BAD bone spurs, but they are there, nonetheless.

I asked the doctor how they form, and he smiled gently and said, "Oh, wear and tear...arthritis...age."

I laughed and asked him if that meant I was no spring chicken.

He gave me a rather enigmatic smile.

I cried.

Then I pulled myself up by my orthotic boot straps and hauled myself out to buy out the Dr. Scholl's arch support insert display. And you know what? Maybe I'll have to wear heavy-duty arch supports and stop wearing flip-flops and going barefoot all the time...

...but when I cross the line at the 5K in September?

It won't matter one bit.

Flamingo. Redux.

So this is the original sketch for the painting I posted on Thursday - I just transferred it to kraft paper and painted the pink and white parts with gouache, and left the blacks in pencil. I don't know why, but I like this more than the painting with the books. What do you all think?

See - here's what happens...I like to sketch kind of big, so I use a 9x12 pad to do my sketches, then shrink them down on the copier to whatever size fits my painting paper - in this case, the painting of Alice was 5x7, so there's quite a bit of size difference. Then, I get all fiddly and start drawing in individual feather lines - WHICH I LIKE - but sometimes I feel like the freshness of the original sketch gets lost in the process of making a completed painting.

sigh.

One day I'm going to be satisfied with what I do, I think. Really.

What Flamingoes Do on Summer Vacation

The spend a lot of time on the beach, soaking in the sun and catching up on their reading.

I'll bet you didn't know that.

I have a lot in common with the flamingo. Except I can't stand on one foot very long. On account of the delicate flower ankles, and all.

But I'm a faster reader. And I look better in a swimsuit.

So, I win.

Dear Brain: You Are No Longer on Vacation. Please Start Working.

Honestly, people. Why is it so hard to reset one's brain after a week's vacation? I'm drifting, aimlessly - watching the sun rise and fall - with no plan or rudder. Yesterday, I started cleaning out my office and found my photo CD storage box and thought, "wow, wouldn't it be cool to see what the boys looked like the first year we ever went to Hatteras, when they were babies, and compare those photos to what they look like this year because it's been 8 years since the first time we went and they were so small and tiny and OMG they were so cute, look at that!"

Yes, my brain does speak in run-on sentences...why do you ask?

So I popped in a CD and FOUR HOURS LATER, my office still wasn't clean.

However. I had this...



And a big puddle of tears all over my keyboard...

How to (not) Boogie Board

survival 101: a diet coke can may be used to apply a cold compress to a battered child. see #7 for details. (click on image and view larger in flickr, if you can't read the captions...)

Back From the Edge of the World

So, we're not at the beach anymore, kids.

Which is fairly heartbreaking. Because being hot at the beach is awesome.

Being hot in the city is sweaty.

But I still have my memories, now don't I? Ocean breezes...salty air...fresh seafood. I can almost taste the sea water, now.  No.  Wait.

That was a tear running down my cheek.
*********************************
We had a fabulous time, obviously. It flew by at unprecedented pace, unfortunately. We sunned and swam and boogie-boarded and kayaked and climbed a lighthouse and talked with pirates and blacksmiths from 1584 and rode the ferry and walked on the beach and got up to watch the sun rise and stayed up to watch the sun set and...

well.

If you're interested, you can check it out here...


Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Travelling Mercies

We're heading back from the Outer Banks, and I saw that my photo made it onto habit for July 9. Stop by, check it out, and see what excellent company I'm keeping.



I'll be back here tomorrow...


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Deep Sigh...

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Hey, Look! A Drawing!

Yes. That's right. I haven't forgotten how to draw.

Thank goodness.

I was worried.

Hey - guess what! It's JULY, people. JULY! Holy smokes! Where did the year go? It seems like only yesterday I was constantly griping about the snow! Don't worry, though - I won't be complaining about the heat. I love the heat. I embrace the humidity. I adore sweating.

Well. Maybe adore isn't the right word. I tolerate sweating.

I accept sweating. Then I jump in the pool and I adore the heat once again.

Poor Dr. SmartyPants went to Arizona yesterday, where the temperature looked something like this:

Which is, you know, REALLY hot.

But it's a dry heat.

Aren't you glad you came over today so we could talk about the weather? Have I really sunk so low that this is my only topic of discussion? Lord.

We could talk about my stupid ankles, instead, if you'd like.


OR, we could talk about how excited I am to be leaving for the beach in TWO DAYS!!!

Actually...maybe I should get the laundry done and start packing.

Right after I check the weather report...

I am a Delicate Flower

sigh.

I never should have mentioned that I was training for a 5K.

Because Murphy and his stupid Law hate me.

I mean, honestly. We increased the time spent running this week - that's what you do when you're training - you increase...it's kind of the point. If you do the same thing all the time, your body is quite content to stay right there and never progress beyond that point. So, I expected some soreness, because that's what happens when you increase what you are doing...your muscles get sore.

So...they were sore when I posted about it on Thursday. So sore that I actually took Friday off from running to give them an extra day of recovery - and we ran on Saturday morning, instead, which SEEMED fine.

Until Saturday night, when my ankles started screaming obscenities at me. So, I called Dr. Linda and she said to ice them and take ibuprofen and try an epsom salt soak, which I did on Saturday night and Sunday morning.

But on Sunday evening, my right ankle swelled up to the middle of my shin and it hurt to touch the inside ankle bone and climbing and descending stairs started to become ridiculously hard and (the burning! the burning) I cried a little and called Dr. Linda back and she said to get to an orthopedist ASAP, just to make sure nothing was torn.

So I did.

And nothing is torn, thank goodness.

But I've got strained tendons and ligaments and a no-running-for-a-minimum-of-three-weeks order.

I can, and am encouraged to, walk, though - so I'll be getting my 30 minutes in at the track while the boys run...so maybe I won't be too far behind. I built in a little cushion to my schedule just in case something happened.

Because I am a delicate flower.

On Guesting and Commenting and Other Random Bits

Happy Friday, my friends! I'm guest posting over at Indie Fixx today - I'd love it if you stopped by and read about what a good road trip can do for you...and leave a comment and say hi, too!

*****

Speaking of comments - I've had to turn comment moderation on for the time being. I'm getting an awful lot of evil spam, even with the captcha, and although they've mostly been encouraging ("it's never too late to learn!" "you did a good job!") they really tick me off. I don't want you to have to deal with scrolling past them, so for now, I'll be moderating.

*****

We all went to see Toy Story 3 yesterday. Holy moly. I cried. It's so good, people. Probably my favorite one yet.

*****

Derek lost a tooth on Tuesday night. The tooth fairy didn't show up. She didn't show up Wednesday night, either. Because she kept forgetting to take care of business. But she did manage to get it done last night. Better late than never, right?

Mythical character role play. FTW!

*****

I've slowed down a bit with my forty-one reasons, but I'll pick back up again this weekend, I hope. I've got 21 left to do, and I need to have them finished and put into book format before July 11. I've been compiling the book as I go along, so I'm very hopeful I can finish at least one creative thing this summer...

*****

Speaking of not drawing, I actually HAVE been drawing, here and there. I jut haven't managed to put together anything worth showing, yet. But, we'll just say that flamingos aren't too fond of croquet, okay?

Cryptic! Woot!

Test

Please excuse this post. I'm testing BlogPress. Again.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Red, White and Blue

Good morning, people! We're still living on the buzz generated by that USA-Algeria World Cup game yesterday. We may have done a wee bit of screaming and jumping up and down and chanting USA! USA! there in the 91st minute of play.

And by we, I mean me. The boys were excited, too.


*************
I mentioned on Tuesday that I had 95 days until my first 5K in over a decade. Dr. SmartyPants and I have been working through the couch-to-5K program for the past three weeks, and so far...so good. We used to run back before we had children and real jobs and all the other things that seem to creep in between you and exercise.

In the year before I met Dr. SmartyPants, I would wake up around four in the morning, three days a week to work out with the rowing club - either at the gym or on the water. Then, I would go to classes at the university for most of the day, before heading back to the gym to teach an aerobics class. On the other two days of the work week, I'd teach water aerobics classes in the morning and run with the rowing club in the afternoon.

And I smoked a pack of cigarettes a day...which, in smoker-speak, translates to a pack and a half or two.

I weighed three pounds.

Now? I go running three times a week for thirty minutes. I don't smoke. I'm more tired.

And I weigh considerably more than three pounds.

But...

I'm a lot nicer than I was back then...

Counting Days

161 days until we move back to Knoxville
95 days until my first 5K in over a decade
68 days until my birthday
40 days until I see Melinda again
34 days until I get my hair done...and it's WAY overdue
12 days until my feet curl into the sand and surf at the Outer Banks
0 days until the pool finally opens daily

So...that means we're off to the pool today. I hope you all manage to stay cool, wherever you are...it's going to be a scorcher here!

The Capital's Capitol

 Good grief.

English is the weirdest language.

This is the capitol building, in the United States' capital city.

It is a capital idea to visit the capitol when you are in the capital. But please, do not make the capital error of bringing food items into the capitol and trying to get them through security. While it isn't a capital offense, the capitol police do count their diligence as their capital asset.

You should probably capitalize many of those instances of capitol, but my capital characteristic is one of laziness in the area of capitalization.

Have a capital weekend, my friends...

More Camera Love

For the past four years, I've had an Olympus E-500 digital SLR camera. Before that, I had a point and shoot Olympus that took really nice photos, and that's what prompted me to go for the Olympus DSLR, but while Olympus excels at the point and shoot game, I have never been satisfied with the E-500. I always felt like I was always wrestling with the camera to get a good image. I even tried renting a lens last summer (a very expensive quality lens) to see if it would help me create what I wanted to create with the camera, but I was still disappointed.

So, for the last year I've been researching and reading and lurking about camera forums and dreaming and sighing and generally being annoying to my family by complaining every time I took a picture. I thought I wanted a Nikon D90, and I talked about it so much that even my children walked around talking about the D90, as if it were the holy grail.

But then Canon released the T2i. Canon! My film SLR is a late 1990s Canon Rebel. Dr. SmartyPants has an old Canon AE-1. I love Canon. And so.

I have my new Canon. And so far, I adore it. It captures light so much more easily than the Olympus ever did, even with the kit lens, and the photo I've posted shows that (at least to me) better than anything else. You see - Derek has these amazing green eyes, flecked with amber, but my Olympus always made it seem as if he had brown eyes, and muddy brown eyes, at that.

Now, there's nothing wrong with brown eyes. Dr. SmartyPants has brown eyes. But his brown eyes are rich, deep, chocolate eyes that make my knees go a bit wobbly and my face get a bit flushed. That's not the brown that I'm talking about. Derek's eyes always came out looking like a little mud puddle on the side of a soccer field.

But this camera...this camera give us this...

Green. Flecked with amber. Dancing with light.

Thank you, Canon. Thank you for showing off my boy's gorgeous eyes. I love you.

A Great Big Bundle of Potentiality

Do you ever feel like just anything could happen? Like you're sitting on a see-saw on top of pile of possibilities, and no matter which direction you go, something new and different and scary and exciting is waiting right there?

I'm feeling like that today. I'm a little jittery and on edge and maybe just a bit irritable with it.

Sorry, kiddos.

I don't have any idea WHY I feel that way. That's the weird thing. I just keep looking out the window for a sign, but it's raining and kind of hard to see anything, let alone a sign. I am looking for promise and possibility and opportunity everywhere I go.

But mainly I just see dirty laundry and dishes and dolls action figures piled on the floor. And dog hair. And ewwww...what IS that?

sigh.

I will be drawing today. I'll forget the laundry. I'll use paper plates. I'll sweep the dolls action figures under the rug. There's a painting in me, trying to get out - that's what that feeling is, I'm sure of it.

Or.

I could just take a nap.

Gasp.

Have I mentioned that I love my new camera?

Big. Big. Love.

On Cameras and Photoshop

My sweet Dr. SmartyPants surprised me with a new camera last week. I've only been, er, "hinting" for, well, ever. So, I have spent the last few days completely enthralled with it, and ignoring pretty much everything else.

Including Dr. SmartyPants.

Then, today...I installed Photoshop. I figure the Smart One and I can reconnect in another couple of years.  I mean, what's a couple of years out of a lifetime, right?

Sorry, honey.

Shadow Fountain

On the way to dinner - a nice sparkling fountain, a silly family and and iPhone.

Really. What more does a girl need?

For more sparkling shadows, visit HeyHarriet! and click on the links!

SoFoBoMo. Yeah. That is What I Said.

Because I am a joiner. Because I love a project. Because I have a new camera...

I'm participating in Solo Photo Book Month, or SoFoBoMo. What is SoFoBoMo, you ask? Well - it's a dash to create a complete Solo Photo Book within a 31 day period, containing a minimum of 35 photographs. This isn't just taking 35 pictures in 31 days - it's actually compiling them into a book that could, ostensibly, be sold at the end of the project.

Linda told me about it, and I think she's going to participate as well...at least I hope so.

So - for my project, I'll be shooting 41 photos (overachieving nerd syndrome...I know.) I'm 41 years old - I'll be 42 in August, so I thought that finding 41 reasons to celebrate life would be a great way to countdown to 42, and to remember all the wonderful things that having another year on this planet mean...it's a celebration of the myriad ways our lives are enriched every day, and how when viewed through the proper lens, ordinary things become extraordinary.

I hope you'll join me on the journey - I'll be posting daily at my project blog, and would love to see you there, cheering me on.

After all - what fun is a journey without friends?

♥ Diahn

See This Dog Right Here?

I love this dog.

On the Kindness of Strangers

We've got World Cup fever all up in heah. Games start Friday, but in my guys' hearts, they're already playing. It's made even more sweet by their soccer team's first victory on Sunday.

People...it's been a long season.

Anyhow - we celebrated the win by letting the boys pick out new soccer balls - they, of course, picked World Cup replica balls. Thankfully, they were on sale.

Except for the one that cost $150.

So we didn't buy that one.

They've picked their teams on their own - Derek's rooting for Mexico, Joshua for Brazil, Dr. SmartyPants for Italy. I'm rooting for the USA. Because I feel guilty if I don't. Even though I know they won't win. I'm an American, dang it.

So, anyway - for the last couple of days, we've spent as much time as we could reasonably afford playing soccer in the park. And Monday, one of those rare, random, happy events occurred that leaves me feeling all warm and fuzzy about my fellow human beings.

If you've read here long enough...you know that's rare, indeed. Me liking humans, that is.

The guys were kicking their new balls into the soccer net frame, when a complete stranger on his lunch break happened by. The ball headed right toward him. He had his hands full with his brown paper bag lunch and newspaper, so he did what anyone would do. He dropped his lunch and paper.

And started playing soccer with my kids.



He played goalie for at least 20 minutes, while the boys did their very best Beckham impressions.

And when I say he played with them, I don't mean in a kind of half-interested way. He was fully committed...



You can even see his lunch over there on the side of the soccer goal.

My kids were fully elated...



So thanks, Mr. Soccer man. Way to brighten up a gorgeous day even further...

Fetch Me a Mimosa, Please.

I had one of these trees outside my bedroom window when I was growing up. It was a perfect match to the color of my walls - mimosa pink. My mom painted the room in a pale pink and then used a feather duster to splash darker pink and white on the walls.

Gosh, I miss the 70s.

Anyway. Every time I see one of these in bloom, I think of that room. It had a Sears and Roebuck canopy bed, and Scott Baio and Erik Estrada pictures on the wall. There was a Barbie Dream House in the corner. I used to hide behind the sliding doors in the closet with a flashlight and make movies.

That's not weird, is it?

Dear BP. You Suck.

There is nothing in which the birds differ more from man than the way in which they can build and yet leave a landscape as it was before.

Robert Lynd, The Blue Lion and Other Essays
Irish essayist and nationalist (1879 - 1949)

I painted this pelican as part of The Spirit of the Gulf Challenge, to which I was invited by Dan. (Thanks, Dan!) Suzanne McDermott began the challenge as a way to channel our creativity into a giant outpouring of love onto the Gulf of Mexico and the inhabitants, environments and livelihoods that are threatened by the never-ending stream of crude oil pouring from BPs Deepwater Horizon oil well.

It's been so frustrating to watch this slow-motion disaster take place over the last six weeks. The Gulf has always been my beach, up until I got married and we moved far away from it. I grew up taking trips there as a child. When I was in college, it was a three hour drive away - close enough to go and stay for a day, if I got up early enough and was willing to drive back, sunburned and exhausted.

And I was always willing enough.

My favorite sight to see is the brown pelicans gliding across the water, searching for a meal. On land, they look so awkward and silly, but when they spread those glorious wings out and soar across the whitecaps...when they spot the perfect fish and dive under the emerald green waters...they are majestic and perfect.

Other birds are threatened by this massive spill, as well. These beautiful animals have no control over the situation - all they can do is sit back and wait and watch.

Just like the fishermen. And hotel owners. And restaurant owners. And the lives of every single person who lives in the states where the oil will wash ashore.

And the lives of every single person who eats seafood.

It is so far-reaching that we cannot even begin to understand how far-reaching it is.

I love the idea behind this challenge - to call attention to the beauty that exists on the Gulf Coast, and I would like to invite any of you visual artists to participate as well, but I would like for you to take it a step further...for instance, wordsmiths - paint us a picture with your keyboard.

There's a whole list of charity organizations that are helping clean up birds and beaches, helping defray costs for families directly financially affected by the spill, helping boost the spirits of people living in the nightmare of watching their way of life disappear, and keeping the disaster on the top of their senators and congressmen's to-do list.

Let's don't sit this one out, peeps. We have an incredible voice.

It's time to shout.

Say What?

My baby said the f-word yesterday.

Wait. I need to wail that one.

"Mah BAY-bee said the EFF word yesterdaaaaaayyyyyy."

In his defense, he read it at the library. More specifically, on a sign near the bathrooms on the outside of the library. It was a sign about that area being a no-smoking zone, and someone had expressed his or her feelings about that law in the only way they knew how - with a sharpie marker and a choice word.

But I tell you - hearing that word come out of my darling boy's eight year old mouth was like a knife through my heart. It was like hearing it come out of this mouth:



So we had a little talk there at the library bathrooms about that word, and how we don't use it in our family. And I skirted the issue of what it means, because that was Derek's first question...sorry, kid. That's a fifth grade question.

And I'm just not ready yet.

Later in the day, the boys were playing in the living room and I HEARD IT AGAIN. Let me explain this one... Joshua likes word play. One of his favorite things to do is to speak in acronym. He'll say, for instance, "Hey Mom, I'm going O.S.I.T.F.Y!" Then I get to translate. "Hey Mom, I'm going OutSide In The Front Yard!"

Yes, it's a lot of work for me, but it is funny, and he has yet to stump me.

So. Anyway. They are playing with Legos, and there's a battle raging under a chair, and Joshua says, "It's an F.U.C! Get it? A Fight Under the Chair! A F**K!" I looked up at him just as his head whips up from under the chair, his eyes grow twice their normal size, and he starts apologizing. "I didn't...I won't...I never...it was an accident...I'm so sorry..."

Mercy.

We talked again, I may have threatened the loss of his remaining stuffies, and he was horrified and so far today there haven't been any slips. I guess I should be thankful that he read it on a sign rather than learning it from me. It's not a word I use often, although there was a day, way back when, when it was my favorite curse word EVAH. Now I limit myself to an occasional "dang." (And that's only used ironically...)

For me, the f-word creeps in when I watch the news and see the mess in the gulf and the lack of response. I may not say it out loud, but I often think it, as an adverb, an adjective and a noun to describe the effort, the mess and the oil company.

But now, Mark is heading down to the gulf to straighten everyone out, so maybe I can shelve that particular expletive for a while.

Godspeed, Mark...kick some, uh...tails, yeah, tails!

Soy un Perdedor

I have so many things to say. And do. And draw. And paint.

And yet.

I'm down to one diet coke a day, and the lack of caffeine is painful...especially right after lunch, when my brain shuts down and I spend the next couple of hours pleading with it to stay awake...just a little while longer...

And then I take a nap. And there may be a little drool involved.

My Mama Dee used to take "half-a-naps." She'd lie down on the couch, having just scrubbed the kitchen floor, close her eyes for 15 minutes and then pop up refreshed and ready to tackle weeding the back garden or cooking supper for 30 people. "I'm gonna go take a half-a-nap, Diahn. Y'all stay inside until I'm up," she'd say.

My naps are not half-a-naps. They are full-a-naps. There's dreaming involved. And the aforementioned drooling. And they are longer than 15 minutes. By a lot.

I'm just thankful my boys know how to entertain themselves. I keep waiting for the day when I wake up with a sharpie marker moustache, and their lives end as they know them. It could get ugly.

I hope that when my withdrawal period is over, I'll be back to my usual antics. I have many literary birds to stack up, people.

How-To Guide: The Food Service Edition

Good morning, students. By students, I mean you, Matthew...and any of your twenty-something-I-am-a-medical-student-and-therefore-much-smarter-than-any-of-you-people counterparts.



Today, I would like to help you all understand the correct way to serve a table of lovely women who are out away from their spouses and children for the evening. It's very important that you do this correctly. These ladies work hard. They deserve a night out free of pretentious young whippersnappers eager to prove their worth by belittling them.

Before we get started, I should explain one very important thing about those ladies...



They are the ones paying for the meal. And the tip. Please remember that.

Now then. Are you ready? Get out your pens and paper, and let's take notes, shall we?

1. If you aren't asked about the wine list, don't feel a need to offer a comment. Say something like, "very good, ma'am." Or maybe try a "right away, ma'am." Please don't volunteer your qualifications as a sommelier and go on to to tell everyone how disastrous their choices are. If you truly are the sommelier, try to just have good wines on the menu and shut up about it, okay? 
2. When someone orders a particular kind of beer, feel free to use the advice in number one, above. Your comment that you are a beer snob implies that her choice is a poor one. Given that there were only five varieties of beer on the menu, and that three of them started with "Bud," I'm not sure you are in the best position to judge. Further - if you are offering suggestions as to kinds of beer to try, and you don't actually serve them at your restaurant - it's just annoying.
3. Don't talk so much. While we are all compassionate and kind women, we really don't care how hard your human anatomy class is. If we wanted to hear whining children complaining about their schoolwork, we could have all stayed home.
4. Please don't lecture. If you ask someone if they'd like a salad, and they say "no," don't feel that you should caution that person that eating her leafy greens is a healthy choice. Are you kidding me? I'm a 41 year old mother of two. I know all about eating my leafy greens. I invented eating leafy greens. That's all I eat. Give me my freaking crawfish pasta and begone, you pretentious little turd dear boy.
5. Respond to questions with appropriate answers. If someone happens to ask upon what their delicious goat cheese is placed, and you answer "toast," it seems a bit condescending. We realize it is toast. We've probably even made toast at some time in our various careers. Perhaps a better answer would be, "sourdough bread that has been lightly toasted," or "a nice artisan wheat bread that was placed on the grill for a moment to bring out its nutty flavor." 
6. Don't assume we're simple. If someone wants to keep her fork, please don't remind her that she has another fork to use. Maybe she doesn't like the other fork. You don't know. Maybe she just neglected to put the fork on the plate in time before you snatched it out from underneath her and now you're calling attention to the fact that she's holding a fork in mid-air for no good reason. Some might call that rude and inappropriate. I call it minus 5%. 
   
   
7. Please just go away. We aren't there to talk to you. I see that the restaurant is almost empty, but please, please, please stop talking to me. Please. I don't care that you've surveyed 600 of the 1000 beers available at that restaurant in Memphis. Crystal doesn't care that you're working on a full-body tat and that you fly to San Diego once a month for fill-ins. Marie doesn't want to hear you expound on the multitudinous qualities of capers. We are there to talk to each other. And you aren't that cute.
   
   
8. Pharmaceutical pens are just pens with logos on them. Really. See - here's what happens. The pharmaceutical marketing people order a bunch of pens and they have them customized with their own logo. They aren't magical pens. You can get the exact same pens in a bank. Only those pens have bank logos on them. Please just shut up about the pens. We weren't going to steal them anyway. We're grown women. We have our own pens. If you'd like, I can point you to a website where you can order your own pens just like them. Customized with your own ludicrousness. 
9. Don't say "ludicrousness." Seriously, just don't. Especially when you follow up by explaining to us that it comes after "I concur," in the dictionary. It doesn't make you sound smart. It does make you sound like an ass. 
10. When taking a picture of a group, be careful what you say. For instance, mentioning that you're taking the picture while we are all looking up at you because that helps to even out any sags and wrinkles is probably not the wisest course of action. That, of course, implies that we needed help in that area, AND EVEN IF WE DID, are you seriously going to say that to someone? Just take the picture, pat yourself on the back for minimizing the age indicators and shut up, already.

So. I think ten is plenty, don't you? After all, if you're still struggling after all that quality advice, I'm not sure that food service is a wise choice for you. Matthew...if you happen to find this article, I want you to know I'm writing it for your benefit. You see - I walk in a restaurant with a percentage that I want to give as a tip in my mind. The things the server does or doesn't do either increases or decreases that amount.

You got less than half of what I would normally tip.

Ladies...I enjoyed our night out so much, despite the constant interruptions. Next time, let's just sit at the bar...

There and Back Again

I left here eight days ago. Since then, I've...

• driven 2400 miles
• visited with parents and nieces and nephews and in-laws and great nieces and great nephews
• and best friends
• and new friends

I've...

• driven with the top down on gorgeous sunny days
• driven with the top up through thunderous storms
• sang at the top of my lungs
• marveled at the quiet

I've...

• visited the streets of my formative years
• walked the pathways of places I've known all my life
• wandered through a town built on steamboats
• floated down a bayou on an amusement park boat

In other words...it was a wonderful trip. I'm exhausted. I have so much to tell you that it will take me the rest of the week. Tomorrow I'll be sharing with you a special How-To edition.

And it has to do with this guy:



Trust me. You don't want to miss this one.

But for now...I have much unpacking to do.