Hey there, Internet friends

Just a quick note to say that all is well on the Walker front -- I've just been busy with work, family, and an intense Simple Year project (trying to go zero waste. You guys, it's hard, but it's also stupidly fun. I'm enjoying the heck out of this).

So I just don't have time to keep up with Pointless Ramble. And I'm okay with that. It could just be that the blog has run its course. Or maybe I'll pick it up again when my guest blogging year is over next April.

Just didn't want anyone to worry.

--Trisha

Um... a small announcement

Hey there, my internet friends! Today is not only my favorite mother-in-law's birthday and my cousin Seth's wedding, but Earth Day!

That's a lot of awesome packed into one little day.

We love you, Seth and Ashley!

I have a bit of an announcement to share that is definitely eco-friendly and is going to make me really have to step up my game:

So you guys, it's not really going to come as a surprise that I am a minimalist and that I'm trying to pursue a zero waste lifestyle. The minimalism is easy, the zero waste is hard. I tend to get sort of lax on the zero waste front, because I'm easily frustrated and it's kind of impossible anyway, no matter how hard you try.

Well... that's what my mind keeps telling me.

Um, so anyway, I follow a blog called The Simple Year. It's about women and the projects they undertake to "simplify." That's in quotes because simple is never actually simple. We had Kerry, who bought nothing new for a year, and Kandice, who downsized just about everything in her life, and Tracy, who has been working on a series of objectives to declutter and organize.

But each project only lasts a year, and when the group called out for applications for the coming year's Simple Year, I applied with the idea of a zero waste project.

And my proposal was accepted.

So I'm the new Simple Year contributor.

It's slowly occurring to me what I've signed up for. Not that it won't be completely awesome -- I'm so excited! But I'm also nervous. When I found out my project had been selected and told the family what I'd signed us all up for, the conversation went something like this:

Eric: So Mom has some exciting news.
Abby: You'd better not be pregnant.
Me: What?! NO! I'm, uh, the new Simple Year blogger. I submitted the idea for a zero waste year and got picked.
Johanna: MOM! You're gonna do so great!
Abby: That's awesome! You will rock that!
Eric: [Quietly grinning]
Me: Um, so... it's not just me who's doing this project. It's all of us.
Girls: Noooooooooooooooooo!

So they're super excited too is what I'm saying.

Anyway, I started April 15  and have a few posts up, which is why I figured it would be safe to tell y'all now. I'll be writing about the challenges and successes of practicing zero waste in a small town and with a (kind of unwilling) family (it's hilarious to me that the girls are freaking out about this because they already do so much -- they're minimalists, too. Is it the new title? I have no idea). It's going to be fun, and eye-opening, and it's also going to force me to quit being so lazy and distracted.

I will still be posting here. Simple Year is quite focused, so for all my random thoughts, Pointless Ramble will live on. I'm sure that's a relief (at least to my mother).

The end, I guess. Or maybe I should say, "The beginning."

One step closer to the edge

** I talk about a recent anxiety attack in this post, and that may be a trigger for those of you out there who are also suffering from anxiety. Sorry about that. I'm just trying to get it out.

It's been a rough week for my anxiety -- I kind of know why, it's hormonal, period kind of stuff -- but knowing why doesn't make it any easier. I've been practicing a mental exercise of sorts the last few weeks when the panic starts to surge, and that seems to help ... most of the time.

So it's a little alarming when it doesn't.

Anyway, I see my anxiety as an ill-behaved ferret. This thing likes to knock stuff off the table and cause as much havoc as possible. I'm almost fond of the dumb thing, I'm so used to it.

Looks cute, right?

Well, it's NOT.

The exercise: When AF ("anxiety ferret") pokes her head out to play, I'm all, hey there, I see you. My acupuncturist suggested that -- because there isn't always a reason for an anxiety attack, and just acknowledging that it exists, without trying to figure out why, can be helpful in stopping the rampage.

And that generally is all it takes.

But when AF starts a ruckus, I imagine calmly step over her. I used to do that when my kids were in that insane 3-year-old stage and they'd throw a fit. Step over those flailing little bodies, like, hey, I know you're upset, but I am not dealing with you when you're like this.

My acupuncturist was kind of pleased with me when we discussed my anxiety at my last appointment, just that I was able to make this connection and put it into place so quickly -- it had only been two weeks since we'd talked about it -- and honestly, I was feeling kind of proud of myself, too. I enjoy a good coping strategy. Especially when it seems to work so well.

After a perfectly lovely weekend, filled with naps and books and absolutely no stress, I headed back into the world on Monday, ready to face the week, cheered further by the reflexology appointment I had scheduled for 2 p.m.

I love reflexology! It's all the benefits of a massage without having to get undressed. ;)

My stomach had been acting up all morning -- yay fertility (I guess) -- and I was hoping that it would settle down by the time my appointment rolled around, but it didn't. I even took half of an Imodium Multi-symptom (those things are gold), and that sort of helped ... but not really.

So there I am, talking to my darling reflexologist and just trying to enjoy my foot massage, when AF peeks out with that stupid little head of hers.

And I'm like, hey there, not right now, please, this is my monthly treat and you are NOT going to ruin it.

And AF was like, you can't tell me what to do!

I actually thought about just getting up off that table, putting on my shoes and getting the hell out of there. It was torture to have to fight the panic while pretending nothing was wrong. AF didn't care if I acknowledged her; she didn't care if I stepped over her as she started throwing her fit. I breathed deeply. I went through my usual litany of, I am in no physical danger, I have control of my body, I have control of my mind. I clenched my teeth and bit my tongue and just concentrated on NOT GETTING UP OFF THAT TABLE.

And I didn't. But, as I said, it was torture.

And that totally bums me out. I've been getting reflexology monthly since the fall, and it has been so good for my general health. Just because it IS so relaxing. I get to lay on a heating pad with a cozy blanket for an hour and it's totally selfish and accomplishes nothing!

So basically it's just awesome.

Having an attack there, in what is usually a safe place, is discouraging. It means that next month I'm going to be thinking about it when my appointment rolls around, and then trying NOT to think about it when I'm back on the table.

And it also means I'm not really doing as well as I thought I was.

Well, whatever. Needs must and so on. (Life After Life? Anyone?)

The end? I'm not really sure how to end this, except with a sigh of relief that the week is over and I can start fresh tomorrow.

A look back at 2015

As seen on a recent walk around town.

Christmas is over, New Year's is just around the corner, and I am trying to make sense of what the hell even happened in 2015. I was talking with Abby on Sunday, and said I knew this year would be hard, but I didn't expect it to be this hard. She said that we just thought it would be hard in different ways and that's why it seemed to be overly difficult.

My kid is so smart.

Well, whatever. This year seemed to be the best of times and the worst of times, but I think that's pretty much how it is every year. You can't have the sweet without the sour. Or something. I think I read that once. I think I'd much rather have all sweet, though, thankyouverymuch. The sour sucks.

Anyway, as I sit here and think about the past (almost) 365 days, these are the things that stand out for me. I'm trying to be all zen and like, there is no good nor bad, it's just our perceptions, except right now zen is alluding me so you get this:

The Good

1. Our trips to California and Sunriver were amazing.
2. I got farther in my zero waste journey.
3. I continued to be a minimalist. And a damn good one. ;)
4. I discovered the joy that is art journaling.
5. I learned I tend to be self-destructive, which may seem bad, but that revelation has been a real eye-opener for me. It helps me stay on track.
6. My husband is darling in so many ways. We celebrated our 20th anniversary!
7. My girls are smart and make parenting extremely easy.
8. Let's not leave out Skilly. He's the best. Well... mostly.
9. I loved my year in the newsroom -- every single minute of it. That's not to say that sometimes I don't want to ram my head through a wall, because frustrations are normal and they happen, but you guys! I get to read and write all day long! That doesn't even seem like working.
10. I started acupuncture and reflexology, and that has made a big difference in my overall health and mental well-being.
11. I embraced the light. Sometimes I had more success than other times.
12. My hair is finally its natural color -- from root to end!

The Bad

1. We lost Eric's cousin Aaron and my grandfather. We found out that Uncle Bob's cancer has spread to his spine and blood. We learned that sweet Celia, our friend and hairdresser, has cancer and there's nothing that can be done about that. We also lost our kind neighbor and friend, Tom.
2. Just so many funerals.

The Ugly

1. I fought anxiety a lot this year. I did allergy elimination through my acupuncturist, and I think with that and my monthly reflexology appointments (just for relaxation), I'm better overall. I still have some general and social anxiety, which can be a pain, but I also have tools to get myself through it.
2. Accepting that my grandparents are getting older.
3. Grieving. Grieving is so super hard, you guys.
4. Just getting through December. But I did it.

You know what, 2015? Thank you for the opportunities, and the good times, and the lessons learned from all the rest. Here's to a more peaceful 2016.

In which I decided to just tune out

These penguins are not worried about staying abreast of the latest news.
P.S. Our neighbors have Christmas spirit to spare.

This week, I've been intentionally not turning on my television.

Ned's Atomic Dustbin would be so proud of me!*

It's not so much that I watch a lot of television and need to curb the habit (I think TV is super boring), but I am known to flip on the news most nights. I like to know what is going on in the world and in my own backyard and get the weather report and stuff and things.

But lately... it's just been dragging me down. All of it. I have enough trouble during this time of the year staving off depression without help from the outside.

And then I read a little blog post called "The Life-Changing Magic of Intentional Ignorance." This in particular stood out for me:

"Sometimes intentional ignorance is the best choice you can make for yourself." -- Sarah VonBargen

And I was like, that is amazing!

Seriously, what a novel thought: You don't have to watch the news (ironic, since I'm The Media), or open all of your email, or read every blog post by every blogger you follow. It's okay to just turn it all off and go do something else.

For me, that something else has been a lot of journaling (both art and written), and trying to sort through the year that was 2015 and think about what I'd like 2016 to look like. It's been rather enjoyable.

I'm still getting the news -- I mean, it's kind of hard NOT to when you write for a newspaper -- but moderation seems to be the key to my overall sanity.

I think I'm on to something with this intentional ignorance thing...

*Boy, talk about a blast from the past. I loved this song in college.

Mostly just a whole lot of nothing

All right, you guys, I'm back. I think. My stomach and I are friends again, our household has re-established its routine (I dearly love routines) since Eric came home from his hunting trip, and I've actually got a bunch of post ideas.

It's just sitting down to write that's the trick. ;)

ALSO. I went in for an eye exam and am happy to report I have new glasses! They're just for reading (so it's super weird to look up quickly and try to see something across the room) because it was either that or bifocals, and I was like, come on, Doc, I'm only 43! I don't think I'm emotionally stable enough to handle bifocals before 50.

Although I might not have a choice for much longer.

See?!

Well, details are boring. I am excited about the readers because, aside from being navy blue and pretty kick ass (Johanna says they make me look like a receptionist or a librarian), I can SEE: the small letters on my phone when I send a text, the page when I read, the details I've been missing. It's amazing! Just don't look up, as I have already established...

Since this post has dissolved into a whole lot of nothing, let me tell you this little story from Thursday: Johanna has been telling me all week that we had a parent-teacher conference on Thursday at 7:30 p.m. So on Thursday, quite dutifully, the two of us set out with 10 minutes to spare and found ourselves outside the teacher's shut door in no time at all, mainly because we literally live three minutes away.

So it's kind of weird that the door is closed, because all the other teachers' doors are open, but that's cool, maybe Mrs. H just wants privacy. At 7:30 on the dot, I was like, I'm going to just peek in so she knows we're here, and that's when we discovered the room was dark.

Oh, Johanna says, maybe the conference is in Ms. Celia's classroom. It's a joint conference, apparently. So we go down the hall and to the right, and are confronted by another closed door.

We're no dummies, so we tried it and ... the door was locked. Johanna looked at the door, then looked at me, and then got bright red. It might be NEXT Thursday, she says sheepishly, and you guys, how do you not laugh at that? I'm an idiot for not double-checking the time myself. So we went back to the car, drove home, and explained ourselves to a rather confused Eric and Abby.

So yeah, we wasted a half-hour of our lives, but we got this story out of it, so win-win, I guess.

And that's where we're gonna end this. I'll be back Monday with a real post. I've made great zero waste strides that I'm excited to share.

Honoring my dead

There's something that I like very much about El Dia de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead. It's not a big stretch for me, since as a Catholic, I'm well versed in All Saints Day (Nov. 1) and All Souls Day (Nov. 2). Except our observances aren't quite as hands-on.

Since my grandpa passed away on June 15, I've been thinking of "my dead" a lot. My list isn't long, and it's mostly made up of grandparents, but it's kind of a relief to have a day where it's okay to actively think about them and not feel like you're bumming everyone out with your sadness.

I don't really have anything else to say about that, except that I decided to make a couple of art journal pages dedicated to the souls I'm thinking about, not just on the Day of the Dead, but every day. (I know only one is showing, but the other is for our little peanut, and that's not something I want to share.)

Grandpa, Grammie, Gramps, Aunt, Uncle.

The Abby Texts: Working girl edition

Abby: And then God said, "Let there be lunch breaks." And he saw that it was good.

P.S. Have you ever been so caught up in a book that you're just like, nope, can't even, and then you just read and read and read all day?

Yeah, that.

Real post soon.

TW

I've been spammed!

I've been probably a little too excited lately because I've actually gotten a couple comments here on the blog -- and from people who don't know me, either.

So imagine my first reaction when I saw I had a new comment Monday! Hooray!

But upon reading said comment, I could tell right away that it wasn't legit. First of all, the writer complemented me on my "excellent article" that contained "just the information" they were looking for. It was TOTALLY going to help them with the paper they were writing, and here were a couple of links I could check out because obviously this was a topic of interest.

Riiiiiiight. The article they got so much useful information from? Doughnut Lottery. So I can only assume A) they were searching for the word "lottery" and stumbled upon my "article," or 2) they were writing a paper on board games invented by 10-year-olds.

Well, it IS pretty awesome.

Also: Did they not even bother to read my tagline? (I chose "Because there's enough useful content online already" for a reason.)

Well, whatever. The moral of this story is that I removed the comment and wished I could also remove the spammer's name, which is highlighted and therefore a live link, because I don't want ANYONE to click that thing EVER.

Also: Note to spammers, maybe at least skim the post you're commenting on so you have kind of an idea of what's going on. Otherwise the tip-off is just too easy.

I actually bought this and I'm not even sorry

You guys, I might be a minimalist, but when I see an embroidered tea towel like this one...
it's no brainer. That was $3 well spent.

Zero Waste Wednesday: How I (sorta) saved my favorite sandals

Once upon a time, like when Jared and Brandi got married in 2007, I bought a new pair of Taos sandals to wear to their wedding.

Those things cost $60 on sale, but they were comfortable and, as I couldn't find anything else that would work--with time running out, naturally--I just went with it.

That was maybe the best $60 I've ever spent because I still have those sandals, and they are my favorite. They're super comfortable and they've worn like iron. Just by looking at them, you'd never guess they were eight years old.

Well, when my feet are in them, anyway:

Thank you for not making fun of my feet.

Here's what they look like without my feet. Not quite so great:

Thrashed is an understatement.

I took them to a shoe repair place a couple of years ago when the insoles were just beginning to tear, but the guy didn't have the resources--or maybe the resources don't even exist--to actually fix the problem. He just put some kind of resin or something on the holes and called it a day. But that wasn't the permanent fix I was looking for, and, to top it off, the insoles began to rip even worse after treatment.

Irony! But I still couldn't bring myself to toss them. I like them that much.

Now here's where our story takes a turn: Last fall, when I went into one of our local shoe stores, I saw a display of these:

Made in Oregon!

They're called Soxsols. Here's how the website explains them:

Soxsols are 100% machine washable, hybrid socks/insoles, designed for use in a variety of sockless footwear such as: sandals, high heels, flats and many children's shoes. Soxsols provide clean, reusable comfort and extend the life of your footwear.

So I was all like, huh, this might be perfect for fixing my sandals. I actually bought two pairs--one for my sandals, and another for these little cuties. My feet do not normally smell when I wear shoes, but wow, they really do when I wear these. And the Soxsols have really, really helped.

Too much info, probably. You guys, a blogger's life is an open book. Except for all those chapters I refuse to write.

So anyway, Eric cut a set to fit my sandals, and here's how we look now, with feet... and without:

Sorta better.

Maybe I should have chosen the beige insoles?

Hmm. It's obviously not a perfect fix, which bums me out. And okay, the Soxsols kind of slide around when there's no shoe wall to bump up against (I don't have that problem with my other shoes). So it turns out that I'm going to need to buy a new pair of sandals anyway, but for $15, at least I was able to keep these old standbys in the closet and out of the landfill. I figure I'll just use them like I'd use flip flops, were I still buying flip flops (kind of miss them, not going to lie, but I can't bring myself to purchase something that will literally end up in the dumpster at the end of the summer).

And that's how I (sorta) saved my favorite sandals.

The end.

Anxiety Level: High

Source

Remember how George W. had that terror warning system that told us where the national threat level was at? That's what came to mind this week in regards to my anxiety. Anxiety Level: High. Scratch that: It's super high. What's higher than high? It's a red alert kind of ordeal.

I feel terrible.

I'm at a loss in regards to why my anxiety is through the roof. I filter all my emotions through my stomach, but as I tried to think of what might be causing me stress, I kept coming up blank.

Work is going well. My house is uncluttered and relatively clean, thanks to a Monday-night all-family on deck dirt smackdown. I've been eating well (no three-ingredient mints or chips for me). Eric is fine, the girls are fine, even Skilly is fine. Things are fine.

So why is my stomach all DANGER DANGER DANGER?

I have no idea.

Maybe there's nothing to analyze. My first instinct when things go south is to try to figure out why. Maybe there is no why. Maybe this is just what it's like to be me. Maybe I'm just anxious because I am.

Huh.

The dumb thing is that, as I've written this (the whole ten minutes that took), I've started to feel better. So either the meds are kicking in (a couple hours late, the jerks) or writing helps. It's probably both.

Hey, have you guys heard about the gut brain? Here's some junk I found on the internets that explains all that:

Here
Here
Here

I think it's rather fascinating, and it makes me feel better in a general kind of way, like I'm not really crazy, it's just that I have a highly developed gut brain. Although, irony, as I was researching, I started to feel worse. And now that I've stopped, I feel okay(ish) again.

Whatever, I guess. My stomach sucks.

And so it begins

This Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, that magical time of year when Catholics remember that we are dust, and to dust we shall return.* I don't know, it sounds kind of depressing, but it's not.

There's a point to all this, dude, which I realize is a little bit of a departure from my usual posts. I'd apologize, but it will probably be awhile before that happens again, so never mind.

I'm giving up processed foods for Lent again this year. Because... I have to think about it a bit, and it definitely requires a commitment. It's easy to throw any old foodstuff into your mouth even when you are blessed** with food sensitivities as I am. Plus I am hopelessly addicted to Annie's Cheddar Bunnies.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just a good time to reevaluate is all.

More fruits and veggies. Less Cheddar Bunnies.
Lent is hard.

Anyway, I define "processed" as anything with more than four ingredients, but it's not a hard and fast rule because Fritos have three (uh, still processed) and real chocolate has, like, five or something (may as well be prepared for contingencies). I was surprised last year at how many one and two ingredient foods there are out there. The bulk and produce aisles were my particular friends.

And just FYI, I count cooking from scratch as non-processed. And it mostly is. Whatever it is I'm using cannot have more than four ingredients per item, so it works out pretty well. This is why Mara's Mac and Cheese counts as non-processed (I made that for dinner tonight and have some in containers for my lunches this week. Don't tell Abby or she'll steal it) but, say, packaged tater tots do not. (Even organic tater tots have more than four ingredients. Boo!)

So that explains why I spent all of today--happy birthday, George Washington!***--cutting and preparing all manner of fruits and vegetables. Boring. But it will make meals and snacks easier for everyone, so time well spent, I guess. For them, since they didn't have to do it. (Wow, still bitter. Might be a long 40 days.)

Other projects: I have some baguette from my favorite bakery cut and prepped and in the freezer, awaiting lettuce and cheese (Tillamook Medium Cheddar has four ingredients, thank you Jesus, and so does this bread). And I made a couple of sides and a couple of mains to have on hand for the week as well. I went meatless because A) We don't eat a lot of meat anyway and 2) This way, it doesn't matter what day of the week we eat it. 'Cause you do NOT eat meat on Fridays, you guys. You just don't. Here's what Catholic Online says about that:

Abstinence: The law of abstinence requires a Catholic 14 years of age until death to abstain from eating meat on Fridays in honor of the Passion of Jesus on Good Friday. Meat is considered to be the flesh and organs of mammals and fowl. Also forbidden are soups or gravies made from them. Salt and freshwater species of fish, amphibians, reptiles and shellfish are permitted, as are animal derived products such as margarine and gelatin which do not have any meat taste.

Oh, jeez, I had no idea we could eat amphibians and reptiles on Fridays. Gag. There's something to be said for stupidity. I can ever unlearn that. Bummer.

I guess the good news is that, having last year's experience under my belt, I know better what to expect: Higher grocery bills, massive amounts of time prepping and preparing, chocolate withdrawals, and overall better health.

There's always a bright side. And it's not supposed to be easy.

P.S. You might wonder why I don't give up coffee, since that would be a logical choice. It's because Jesus loves me, you guys. I figure Americanos are totally in the non-processed zone, although my beloved vanilla lattes, not so much. That's why I've made a batch of vanilla syrup, just in case we get into any emergency situations. Four ingredients--sugar, brown sugar, vanilla and water. Whew!

*And you thought Catholics don't read the bible. ;)

**Sarcasm!

***Technically I did not have the day off, but I did have one last vacation day before my four year employment anniversary that I needed to burn, and with Eric and the girls home, I thought, why not? It's kind of weird that some people get Presidents Day off and others don't, but whatever.

What's the most rebellious thing you can do at 41? Look 41, that's what

See anything alarming yet?

I've mentioned many times on the blog that I color my hair. When I was younger (which is the best time to make bold declarations, just FYI) I swore I would NEVER dye my hair. I heard stories of Great Grandma Maud (I think it was Maud) who was completely gray by age 40 and knew that was going to be my fate, too... and thought that was okay.

Fast forward twenty years or so, when, Christmas 2009, Mom snaps a picture of my 37-year-old self and, while my hair isn't actually completely grey yet in real life, it TOTALLY looks like it is when the film is developed.

And you guys, I got vain. I had my 20-year high school reunion coming up the next summer, and I was like, Homey don't play that.

So began a period of "dye auditions," and by the time that reunion came around, not a grey hair could be seen on my lovely brown head. (I noticed, by the way, that while all the guys were balding and/or in various states of grey, the girls--all except one brave soul--were completely grey-free. Go figure.)

Anyway, I guess the moral of this whole sad tale is that vanity is a powerful instigator, and that I'm not so immune advertising. Damn you, The Man!

But recently I've started to wonder why the hell I'm doing this to myself. My hair grows pretty quickly, so every six weeks or so (sometimes sooner), I'm back in the chair doing it all over again. I'm lucky because my husband is awesome and isn't afraid to get his hands dirty, i.e., he's the one who dyes it for me, but it's so super boring. For both of us. And the dye makes my scalp itch. And I can hardly breathe when it's going on my head because of the smell.

And honestly, who am I fooling anyway? I'm clearly a woman in my early 40s, everybody knows this, and if I happen to have more grey hair on my head than brown, who cares?

I guess that's the main question: Who cares? When I started announcing (because I thought that would help me NOT go back on this... I'm still very vain, you see*), the first thing people generally would ask was, "What does Eric think of that?" Um, Eric gives zero craps. He wants me to be happy and healthy. My hair color isn't really a deal breaker as far as our relationship goes.

Ahem. Feeling a rant coming on. Reeling it in. Drinking more coffee. That's better.

I've decided that the most rebellious thing I can do as a 41-year-old is to just look 41. My roots are definitely huge at this point, and I can see a lot of silver in my bangs especially. We're WAY past when I would normally grab the box of color. I was tempted at first to get some more stuff poured on my head that would strip the dye all at once so I didn't have to mess with growing it out, but my hairdresser says it's really toxic and doesn't recommend it, so I'm on the "just get my hair cut a lot and hope for the best" mode of coping.

I'm finding the roots don't bother me as much as I thought they would. I'm not really into hats or ponytails, but who knows, maybe when it gets really bad I'll suddenly decide I look darling in both? :)

And I guess the moral of all THAT is this: I'm embracing my age, people. Wish me luck.

* Pregnancy taught me that I'm vain, motherhood taught me that I'm selfish. Fun lessons, I tell you what.

April First! But this is no joke. Also, some updates

...Not a joke, but maybe a warning. :) This month my public (hi Mom!) has a birthday, and to celebrate--because for some reason she enjoys lots of ramble--I'm going to post every day for the entire month! Okay, that part was a joke. I don't know if I have 30 days of straight posts in me. But I think I can do 13 days, and as luck would have it, her birthday is April 13, so that's how I solved that math.

Whew. I'm exhausted. Math is hard.

Happy birthday, Mom! Thanks for not being born later in the month!

***

In my March Care Package post, I mentioned that my Grandpa wasn't doing so hot. I'm relieved to announce that things are looking up. I mean, yes, he has kidney failure, so that's not great. But he's been able to move from hospital to care center, and we're hoping he'll be released home very, very soon. It looked like we were going to lose him, people, so this seems like a miracle. He has to go to dialysis three times a week basically forever now, until he decides he doesn't want to mess with it anymore, I guess. But so far, so good. He's 91, and I know that eventually we are going to have to let him go, but I don't want to. I can't even imagine a world without Gramps. He's just a really lovely, friendly, open kind of person (his gardener even visited him in the hospital), and he's the center of the family.

Sorry, can't even go there. The end.

***

Hey, I got a call from Tim about said March Care Package Project, and he was all, That was the neatest package! And then told me all about how he actually needs a flashlight so he can find his car after he goes to concerts. He goes to a lot of concerts. We decided Johanna is an oracle since she's the one who insisted he needed that thing. I just included it as a joke. What do I know?

***

Chevelle has a new album out today! Yay! Hurry up and download, iTunes!

***

Softball has started. Johanna. Minor girls. Wish us all luck. Baseball is boring, and I can't imagine softball is too much different... P.S. Eric is coaching. Anybody got any good practice drills they want to tell us about? Um, seriously.

Free lunch part 2 plus a random work update

Hey, remember last week when I wrote about how our office is in first place in the Great Classified Ad Competition Between Worksites? We're still ahead! Several people in our office have posted items now, and some of them have even sold stuff (I have sold roughly one thing out of 17, although Eric has a nibble on an item today, so I guess we shall see, who cares, TOTALLY NOT BITTER).

Keep your fingers crossed. For the lunch, I mean, not the sale. ;)

In other news, I have an elderly gent (I assume he's elderly) who has taken to calling me whenever he wants a phone number. Our conversations go something like this:

Him: Hey, is this still you?
Me: Yep, still me. You still you?
Him: As far as I know. Will you look up Radio Shack's phone number for me? I just need the last four digits.
Me: Give me one second. Maybe six.
Him: So what's going on? You're not busy, right?
Me (trying to ignore the piles on my desk and open tabs on my monitor): Nope.

So that's kind of exciting. Usually my community service is just helping people get items from the top shelf at the store. I guess I can add this to the list, too.

The end.

Just checking in...

So you guys, I'm sorry, I just haven't had the time to blog lately, what with the children being home from school and daily life generally cutting into my writing time. I've been working on a couple posts this morning but the words are not coming, maybe because deep in my heart I know I should really be weeding the lettuce and folding the laundry.

What to the evs, words.

In the meantime, here's a teaser:

Hints: Christmas in June, the west coast, REALLY big trees and a couple of crazy monkeys.

P.S. The problem with making really great iced coffee at home is that when you order an iced coffee out in the world, it doesn't taste nearly as good and you're all like, I wish I'd have brought all my coffee stuff with me because seriously, where's the vanilla in this thing? 

It's not easy being a poser.

Morning view

Seven things

1. When I'm all alone and One Direction shuffles up on my iPod, why don't I change it?

2. Rosie from the Press came into the front office the other day to talk to me about the video games she plays on her PlayStation. I have absolutely no idea what she's talking about, ever, but I'm a good listener, so no harm done. She showed me the character she's named after Stacey (who can shoot laser beams out of her eyes and hands. This has quite gone to Stacey's head), and Stacey was all, where's Trisha's character? Hers would need to do something weird, like just throw snowballs. And I was like, that? WOULD BE AWESOME. Rosie said she didn't have any characters who threw snowballs, but I maybe could freeze someone. I liked that idea. I was like, I'll freeze them, and then I'll laugh... and then unfreeze them and walk away! Rosie said that is NOT how it's done (apparently you freeze people and then ninja chop them or something, I have no idea, it sounded kind of worrisome), but the more I think about it, the more I'd really like to see a character who just freezes people to laugh at them. Well, I'm nonviolent, you see, but have a soft spot for laughing.

3. There's a spider on the computer desk. Excuse me while I go flush it. Also: What? It's still winter! GO AWAY.

4. While flushing the spider I saw that it had crawled on Johanna's like 18th school fundraiser packet for the year. Oops, yet another one I refuse to participate it. Surely we can do better than to sell people crap they don't want anyway. Doesn't anyone do jog-a-thons anymore? I give you money, you give me nothing. THAT I can get behind.

5. It will come as a relief to Eric, I'm sure, to learn that I have started the final book in the Outlander series this week. He thinks I should give it up for Lent. Um, no. Jesus doesn't want me to suffer THAT much. This morning, though, I am going to be very good and do like a concentrated 15 minutes of housework before settling down to read. I mean, I'm not completely clueless about my responsibilities. Jeez.

6. I am eating my cereal out of a coffee mug this morning because apparently I forgot to start the dishwasher last night and no one else has those skillz. (Um...)

7. I LOVE MY NEW FLOOR! Yes I'm shouting, I'm excited. The guy was here until 9:30 p.m., which I felt kind of bad about. We still need moldings--those are on back order--but it's like a completely new space. It's so dang pretty. Love, love, love. The only downside is that Johanna has taken to wearing socks in the house (she never wears socks ever, even when it's below freezing) so she can slide around and do "tricks." I keep hearing loud thumps, followed by a shout of, "I'm okay!" I'm not sure I can take the next eight years of this or whatever it is until she outgrows such behavior. Surely not past the age of 16, right?!?

Hello, my pretty.

...And with that, you are COMPLETELY up-to-date, except for all that other stuff I forgot to mention.

The Sort of Remodel Project, part whatever this is

The awesome thing about having a husband who doesn't sit down is that stuff gets done. The downside is this particular husband doesn't think anyone else really wants to sit down either, which is a fairly unrealistic expectation this early in the morning.

I have a routine, man! I like to drink my coffee and eat my dry cereal (um, milk issues) and poke around on the internets. While sitting down. In the quiet. I feel this is my God-given right after getting the girls out the door in the morning, because wow, that is way harder than you'd think it would be.

Well, anyway, more first world problems, but our floor is being installed today. So Eric is home, vacuuming particle board and moving furniture and generally making a lot of racket. I really should have planned an outing (even bucket drumming during Artist in Residence week at the elementary school is sounding kind of good right now), but alas and alack, that did not occur to me until this very minute.

The Sort of Remodel Project, part whatever this is, in pictures:

Abby must have taken this one... Carpet removal! Hooray!!!!

We built the house when Abby was three and let her color on the floor.
I *think* she was trying to spell Madie's name.

That's welcoming. Couch on the porch.

Particle board! You'd think it would bug me, having lived like this
for a few days, but actually, the echo makes up for any inconveniences.

Abby's room has become the furniture dumping ground, poor kid.

This is a good day. Even if Eric won't let me burn the couch...  (Just kidding. Kind of.)