My conversation with Eric this morning

Eric: I won bear spray at the auction last night.
Me: Uh...
Eric: No, it's good, 'cause when we go hunting in Wyoming, there's always a chance you'll get into bear.
Me: That's not exactly what I want to hear.
Eric: And also when you and I go on a backpacking trip through Yellowstone someday, we'll be ready. Doesn't that sound FUN? That's on my bucket list, by the way.
Me: Oh, God. Is it really?
Eric: No.

I high-fived him. It's like the student has become the master.

Take THAT, anxiety ferret!

So remember how last month I went to my reflexology appointment and the anxiety ferret basically made me want to jump off the table and run for the hills?

Yeah, that was fun.

How can something so fluffy and adorable be such
a jerk?!

Anyway, I had my monthly appointment on Monday, and I was kind of nervous about it, truth be told, because I was trying NOT to be nervous -- trying not to psych myself out by assuming it would all go wrong again. It's kind of hilarious how when you try to not think about something, your brain immediately latches on to whatever that is and that's all you can think about.

It's fine, that's just science. (I guess?)

But when 2 p.m. rolled around -- my standing appointment time -- I marched myself up the hill to the reflexology office (how cool is it that it's just up the hill?) and told myself that THIS WAS GOING TO BE FINE.

And it was. Oh, the anxiety ferret was all, hey girl, what's up?, but I was all, I don't even see you.

And it went away.

That's probably luck more than anything, but you know what? We take our victories where we can.

And also: I just tried to enjoy it. How often do you get to have someone rub your feet with soft music playing, a heating pad under your back, and the sunlight streaming through the window? I focused on why I like reflexology: It's relaxing, it's completely selfish (I mean, no one is benefiting from this but me), and it stimulates my organs or something. (Oh, the joy hearing that you have some congestion in your colon. Yeah, totally gross, but if you can get beyond THAT, it's very nice to have your stomach issues justified.)

So yay me is what I'm saying. Anxiety ferret, you just stay in your box.

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.

Lent update: The half-way mark

I MISS YOU!

Today is the 26th day of Lent (I know because we get daily Lenten Reflection emails from Bishop Robert Barron's Word on Fire -- we love that guy), and, as we're a little over the half-way point, this seems like as good a time as any to come clean about how I'm doing with my Lenten fast.

If I may be so bold as to quote myself from my February 12 post:

Much like in years' past, I'm giving up processed foods, but this year I'm going for extra holy, so I'm also adding another element to this whole ordeal: I'm giving up buying anything, too. I don't actually buy that much, 'cause minimalism, yo, but I do rather enjoy coffees and the occasional lunch (and dinner) out on the town. It's just too easy to walk down the street and pick up a sandwich. I see these two things as extensions of each other: If I'm not eating processed food, that means most restaurant eating is out, and if I'm not buying anything, that means, like, no food treats at the grocery store.

Ah, the optimism in which we begin any life-changing event! ;)

Actually, I'm proud to say that I'm doing pretty good with this. Eric said last night that he thought it would be the no-processed foods that would be the hard part (and I've kind of just decided that anything pre-packaged, with the exception of milk, cheese, and, like flour and sugar and whatnots, counts as processed), but that's actually the easiest for me to handle. I think it's because I'm used to NOT eating things anyway -- people bring things like cupcakes with bright pink frosting or packaged cookies to work all the time, and it's not a big deal for me to just smile and nod and not even be tempted.

Ugh, because there's nothing that tastes good enough to be worth an IBS attack.

But the not buying anything? That is tough, which I knew it would be and is why I added that little piece to my Lenten puzzle. It's not so much the fact that I can't get any books for my Kindle, or even buy an new ink pen for my journaling that's hard -- it's the simple stuff, like not buying my favorite veggie sandwich or walking to a coffee shop for an Americano.

And I haven't!

Okay, I did once. Last Thursday. I drove to Dutch Bros. and even as I was on my way I was like, well, I'm going to have to admit this on the blog, is this coffee really something I need? But then PMS was like, COFFFFFFFEEEEEEE, so that was pretty much that.

And it was delicious.

I've also mostly been taking Sundays off -- if you count the days from Ash Wednesday to Good Friday, that makes 46, and Lent is only 40 -- although I'm not going too crazy. One decaf vanilla latte. I had a bowl of Cheddar Bunnies today and am eating a candy cane that was leftover from Christmas. I'm purposely still not buying ebooks or ink pens because that seems like it would be cheating. Actually I didn't even buy the chocolate bar I was eying yesterday during my grocery trip because that also seemed like cheating, Sunday or not. (I wasn't going to take any Sundays off, but then I read "'Cheating' on Sundays" by Meg Hunter-Kilmer, and I was like, mini-Easter! I can get behind that!)

But I tell you this, my friends: this weekend I not only made a double batch of banana muffins (used all seven over-ripe bananas banging around in my freezer!), but a batch of Mexican Hot Chocolate Cookies. You try PMS-ing with carrots as your only comfort food. It's a miracle I didn't completely lose my mind...

Patrons of the arts

Johanna creates what's close to her heart. Which is mostly just doughnuts.

Johanna is my little theater buddy, which is great because this means I can see any show I want and can use her as an excuse to go, because obviously as a mother I need to encourage her interests. She told me once that she likes plays even more than she likes movies. I think there's something about the live, unexpected element that really floats her boat. The only reason she's looking forward to middle school next year is that she can take drama as an elective.

So going to plays is no problem. Going to gallery openings and exhibits, that is a problem, mostly because it just doesn't occur to me to go.

This month I set out to change that. One of my goals this year is to take the girls to more artsy events, and lo and behold, I just happened to interview a teenager earlier this month about the show she curated as a school project, and I was like, hey! This is right up Johanna's alley! and made plans for the two of us to attend.

I kind of forgot that Johanna freezes up when she's in a new situation, especially if it involves a bunch of people she doesn't know. So she spent the whole 10 minutes we were at the show's extremely crowded opening clinging to my arm and starring blankly at me when I tried to talk about what we were seeing.

Oh, and then there was the series of paintings that featured boobs, and she just couldn't get over that. I told her we were looking at the human form as artists and not 11-year-olds, but it turns out we WERE looking at them as 11-year-olds. And apparently 11-year-olds think boobs are terrifying.

Another Johanna original: A study in color.

But then I got the great idea of going to another gallery for a show about pets that was in its final days. This was more her speed: No boobs, plus we were the only ones there. She was much more relaxed and even drew her own picture on the community mural wall.

On the way home, I tried to talk to her about what we'd seen, but it turns out that she didn't really care.

That was Friday night. On Sunday, the two of us, plus her best friend Annika, went to see "Taming of the Shrew" at the high school. I had taken photos of a dress rehearsal and had written a review earlier in the week, and while I knew Shakespeare was going to be a bit of a stretch for the kid, I figured that, if nothing else, the acting was great and the costumes were fantastic and she'd probably figure out what was going on from the action (with a bonus of supporting the school's drama program, which is hella poor).

We made it through the first act just fine, but by the second, both girls' attentions were waning. I kept whispering a translation of what was going on to Johanna, who would consistently tell me she already knew that. So that was fun. (Insert Johanna here asking, "Are you being sarcastic?) Mostly what the girls got out of the show was that speaking in English accents is super fun. They kept saying things like, I think thee is a loon, and no, I think thee is a loon, over and over and over again, all the way home.

Enchanting.

Anyway, I guess the point of all of this is that we were patrons of the arts, all right, even if none of it turned out quite the way I had planned.

I mean, it never does, not with kids. And that's okay. At the very least, we got to hang out, and at best, maybe someday she'll actually think about that weekend and be inspired to try something new.

Or not. It's really cool either way.

P.S. Johanna is apparently taking commissions from her classmates for her artwork. Here's one of the most recent ones she's given away:

A couple updates or whatevs

Update 1
I just watched Johanna give Eric a hair cut. With clippers. It's probably the best home hair cut he's ever gotten.

Which means I am off the hook for future hair cuts. That's the best case scenario, really. ;)

Update 2
I have been battling a mother of a cold since last Wednesday. You guys, this cold has been so bad that I missed a day of work. And all our planned weekend activities (see Update 3). It started with a tickle in the back of my throat, then advanced to a raging headache and coughing so hard that I swear I've broken my sternum. The alarming thing about THAT is that I have a high pain threshold, which makes me wonder exactly how bad I'm actually feeling. I mean, if I think it hurts, then it's probably really awful, right? Like punctured lung bad!

Well, whatever. It only hurts when I cough. Or sneeze. Or blow my nose. Or laugh. The dumb thing about all this is that, while I sound terrible and look worse and am constantly clutching my sternum (I'm kind of proud I even know what a sternum is, although I didn't until Eric told me this morning), I'm actually finally feeling better. I can feel the pressure leaving my head, and it no longer hurts when I swallow.

It's just those damn unannounced tickles that send me into coughing fits and bring me to my knees.

Eh, it's probably fine. No, it's not. God, that hurts...

Update 3
This weekend we had Big Plans in the Walker household: Abby and Johanna received awards from the Sons and Daughters of the Oregon Pioneers (Abby is Miss Pioneer Oregon,* and Johanna won the middle school essay contest), and then Johanna had a two-day basketball tournament. So we were going to spend the night with Eric's sister and have all this family time and whatnots.

So I missed that. Ah, well. But Eric taped both Abby's acceptance speech and Johanna's time in the basketball games for me, so I at least got to watch after the fact. Not quite as good as being there, but I definitely made the right call staying home, in that I was just in bed for 48 hours. Good times.

Abby is going to be mad at me for posting this.
Let's not tell her, okay?

*It's an essay contest, not a pageant by any stretch of the imagination. I'm not sure why I feel compelled to tell you this. Mostly because ... well, because I think pageants are dumb.

Update 4
So let's talk about Miss Pioneer Oregon's costume, shall we? We had exactly three weeks to get this together and have her portraits taken. Ha ha ha! Isn't that hilarious? Also totally true.

So we found out she'd been awarded the honor the day we left for the Christmas House in Lincoln City (relive those memories here and here). Abby and I hit the Goodwill there, not really expecting to find anything but also totally hoping we would because, as I've mentioned above, time was of the essence.

Anyway, so we hit Goodwill and go to the dress section. There's a lady in the way on Abby's end of the size rack, so we just go to the other end ... where we find this red gingham monstrosity in a size 18. Abby, incidentally, is like a 6. Well, what could happen? It's got a great front button feature and the pattern is definitely 19th century. Here's a close up of the top:

WHY ARE YOU SO ADORABLE?

The buttons were actually the best part of the dress. Emboldened by our discovery, we hit the "miscellaneous linens" section, hoping to find some sort of apron. What we actually found was a bed sheet (?) that had a nice crocheted bottom. We were like, we can totally make an apron out of this! 

Ten minutes and $15 later, we were feeling kind of good about ourselves. Although when we took our items up to pay, Abby was all, please don't judge us, to the cashier, and we told her about Abby's award and that was a mistake because the cashier had all kinds of ideas and she was clearly an overachiever. They're out there, you guys. All you can do is smile and nod.

Yadda yadda yadda, I took the dress to an alterations shop in town, and the lady took the dress in IN ONE DAY for $35. Score. Then my mother, bless her soul, made the apron, and my mother-in-law pitched in a green bonnet, and Abby already had some black combat boots (close enough to prairie-wear) and some grey tights, so wallah! That is how you make a pioneer costume in 18 days.

As for the portraits, I took them myself in our backyard. I figured, what the heck, I get paid to take pictures all the time (kinda) for the newspaper, so really, what could happen? This was a good route to take, by the way, because it's basketball season and figuring out when we could actually get pictures taken turned into a bit of a dilemma. But we did it. 

I'm kind of amazed it all worked out so easily, really.

A Christmas wish fulfilled

There’s something very stressful about goldfish.

Eric had the bright idea this Christmas of gifting Johanna a fish tank. She had been begging for a puppy this year, but recently gave up on that front and began lobbying for goldfish.

I can only assume this is because of the repeated number of times she has been told that our family does better with pets that ignore us, i.e. cats. Look, I don’t even have houseplants. There are reasons for this.

Goldfish technically do ignore you, so that’s a plus, but they are also notoriously fond of keeling over quickly, which is a strike in the “downside” column.

So much relaxation!

Another downside: Having to pick up the pieces of a heart broken over a fish.

But oh, the look on her face Christmas morning when she unwrapped the tank, the joy of arranging the decorations just so — should this plant go by the barrel or the sign? — and the happiness of finally bringing Gumball and Darwin home.

(Gumball and Darwin, incidentally, from The Amazing World of Gumball, a cartoon-ish kind of ordeal that Johanna cannot get enough of.)

It was enough to make me think that maybe this was a good idea after all.

Erring on the side of caution and practicality, we’ve explained to the child that goldfish do not have long lives, and at 28-cents each, are exceedingly replaceable. 

“You might go through a lot of fish,” I warned.

“That’s okay!” she chirped. 

I was hopeful that the lesson had sunk in when she made a list of 30 potential names — enough for a year’s worth of fish, I’m assuming — until it occurred to me that she was just excited and this was her way of coping with the wait to go to the store.

“You might want to keep a hold of that list,” Eric said. 

"I will!" she beamed. "I wrote it in my journal!"

"That's Darwin," Johanna says confidently. Then pauses. "Or THAT is Darwin."

Still, between the idea and the reality falls the shadow. (T.S. Eliot knew what he was talking about.)

“Abby said not to get too attached,” Johanna told me after a conversation with her sister on the way home from the store, “but I think it’s too late.”

I’m happy to report that Gumball and Darwin have managed to survive an entire two weeks Johanna’s watchful eye. She finds them entertaining and relaxing, and likes to give minute-by-minute updates: Darwin is a bit of an explorer, while Gumball likes to hide behind the plants. They both like the barrel feature.

But while she thinks her new pets are enchanting, the rest of us find them nerve-wracking. The Walker family is on high-alert, with our collective fingers’ crossed that Gumball and Darwin manage to live … well, a little longer.

Maybe we should have just let her get a dog.

Happy New Year!

I found this creepy New Year's Baby -- selling lumber, no less -- in our
January 1916 archives. It takes someone much stronger than me to pass
this kind of thing by.

I had a roommate in college who liked to joke that partying hard on Saturday night meant she'd be praying to the porcelain gods* Sunday morning. I could never figure out why you would do something on purpose to yourself that would ultimately leave you hurling in the bathroom, but I've always been a bit too practical, which is why that element of college was lost on me.

All of this is to say that I was reminded of my roommate Saturday, when I found myself praying to the porcelain gods with frevor.

Without getting too graphic, let's just say that a flu bug of some sort is ripping its way through the house. Johanna came down with it on Tuesday, and I'd hoped that the rest of us would be spared, although that looked pretty unlikely when my stomach started churning Saturday morning. (I went from fine to NOT fine in like an hour. Wut?)

But okay, that still leaves Eric and Abby, right?

Except Eric is on the couch laying down watching football. This wouldn't be alarming except A) Eric NEVER lays down on the couch and 2) Eric actually never relaxes at all -- he's always up doing stuff, even if a game is on.

Um...

So it's been one hell of a new year is what I'm saying.

Also: Why did we all get flu shots again? I forget.

*In case it doesn't translate, "praying to the porcelain gods" is a euphemism for throwing up. I think we've all learned something today, don't you?

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.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder (?)

Hey there, internet friends! Long time, no see. It's been an interesting week-plus here in the Walker household, mostly because Eric went hunting in Wyoming and that made me sad, and then he got back early from hunting and that made me happy, and then we had a funeral to go to (getting mighty tired of funerals), and then I got sick right smack when the newspaper went to bed Friday at noon, which I guess was good timing, all things considered.

There's nothing like sitting at your desk and realizing that something is rotten in the state of Denmark your gut and being 15 minutes from home.

So I spent Friday night in bed instead of with friends (Girls Night!), and then Saturday roving between the bed and the couch instead of being at a zero waste meet-up I was very excited about, and then later at a Fill Your Panty event (all local foods sold in bulk to get you ready for the winter. YOU GUYS. I've been looking forward to that for a MONTH).

This morning I'm still pretty shaky but I figure what the hell -- I'm going to be shaky no matter what, and being sick is boring. I'm so sick of my iPad and even my Kindle (Paperwhite isn't as easy on the ol' eyes as the Keyboard). I'm sick of pillows and blankets and being afraid to eat.

I'm whining.

The end.

The mystery continues

So remember how, in April, Johanna and I came home to find a surprise Easter egg hunt in the yard?

Our mysterious benefactor has struck again:

Exhibit A

When we were pulling into the garage last Thursday, Johanna noticed right away that this cute little owl mug was sitting nearby. "I'll get it, Mom!" she said, and barely waited for the car to stop before hopping out to retrieve her present. (Possible accident aside, this is actually preferable to waiting for her to get out of the car on a regular day, as it's five frustrating minutes of watching her gathering up her backpack and lunchbox and then pleading to climb out the window.)

Our new owl friend contained a hot chocolate packet and some candy corn. Fun fact: Johanna LOVES candy corn AND hot chocolate. And owl mugs.She tried to get me to buy her a similar mug at Walmart not too long ago.

But P.S., if you come to the house expecting to use said mug, forget about it. Johanna has made sure we all know it's hers and has gone to such lengths as to hide it in the cupboard so no one else can get to it.

Thanks, mysterious holiday joy-bringer! You are awesome.

At last!

Once upon a time, like when I was 41, I decided the most rebellious thing I could do at my age was just look my age. So I stopped dyeing my hair.

I thought it would take about a year or so to actually grow out, because my hair grows really fast and I am optimistic about all the wrong things. Turns out it took a year and 10 months, and I can tell you this with authority because I just got the last of my dyed ends cut off last Tuesday.

Observe:

Looks not so grey from this angle.

But it's there. Trust me.

It's shorter than I would have gone otherwise, but I was so damn excited about just getting it over with that I went a little nuts.

So that's that.

The end.

Tall people need friends, too

Once upon a time, like a couple of Sundays ago, Johanna and I were in the bulk section of the supermarket, lamenting the absence of sucanat sugar, when this rather tall man in his 50s comes up to us and says to me, I see you're tall.

And I'm like, well, good eyes, I guess, because I'm 6-feet so yeah, I tend to stick out there, but I could see he was kind of uncomfortable -- embarrassed -- and so what I actually did was laugh and agree.*

That's when he pulls a card out of his wallet and begins to tell me about the Portland Skyliners Club.

 

I actually had no idea a club like this even existed, but anyway, according to the card, my social life is looking up! It's for men 6-feet 2-inches and over, and women 5-feet 10-inches and over. He said he could see I made that requirement fairly easily, and that it's mostly a service organization with all of the meetings in the Portland area.

I am not in Portland, but as I've never been invited to join any club before, I am feeling kind of proud of myself for managing it.

Even if it means apparently I need help making friends.

*I am, perhaps, a little over-sensitive about my height, so my first impulse is to be snippy yet self-efacing if anyone calls attention to it. It's kind of weird to be always towering over everyone, and I've even had people act like I'm some sort of menace (like that grandma who locked her car door when she saw me coming down the street ... as if, grandma!), but on the upside, my community service is just going to the store and helping people get stuff off the top shelf, so silver lining.

Anniversary, revisited

Anniversary selfie. Not edited 'cause we don't care.

On September 2, Eric and I celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary.

Which begs the question: When and how did Eric get so old? ;)

Eric and I have a fairly relaxed stance when it comes to anniversaries. Maybe because they're usually coinciding with back to school dinners and whatnots. And to be honest, it's not like if we miss THE DAY the world is going to end. Maybe that's 20 years talking, or maybe it's just that we're very wise and mature.

Ha ha ha! Yeah, probably not maturity. More like just personality.

Well, anyway. This year we actually DID celebrate on the day, probably because school started late this year. And on a Wednesday night and everything.

Eric took me to a new/old restaurant (old restaurant, new name) for which he had a buy one get one free coupon (well, we are rather thrifty minimalists). We had the place to ourselves except for another couple who was there celebrating their 65th anniversary. High-five, co-anniversariests!

Although suddenly 20 didn't seem like that big of a deal anymore.

So we order (eggplant lasagna for me -- which contained no pasta, actually, and was amazing -- and shrimp and penne pasta for Eric), and we're sitting there talking and such, when Eric pulls out a handmade card for me.

Oh damn, I didn't get him a card! Because I suck. Strike One.

He's like, oh, I didn't even expect one, calm down, and I read his nice words and I got a little teary because that boy really does love me a lot.

Profound thanks, more talking, and then he's like, oh yeah, I almost forgot, and he's smirking in a way that tells me I'm on Strike Two.

And he gives me this bracelet that he made himself:

Huh. How is this blurry? I just put it on the scanner...

You guys, there is no Strike Three in this story, but you can imagine how bad I felt. No card, no present, just air. "And your love!" the waitress helpfully supplied.

He was pretty pleased with himself to have surprised me so thoroughly. And apparently my love is enough because he didn't even act disappointed.

Anyway, we enjoyed our dinners, but decided that since we had a coupon and were saving like $16 or whatever, we should probably get dessert so as not to be lame. Right? We ordered apple pie with vanilla gelato and OH EM GEE, as Johanna would say, that was a really good idea on our part.

And the girls devoured the leftovers when we got home.

P.S. Here's the card that was waiting for us when we got back from our date:

There is way too much awesome going on here...

Johanna was adamant that Eric have me home at a respectable hour. She
also gave us $5. (We found a way to tactfully give it back later.)

So that's how we spent our anniversary this year, you guys. It was awesome AND lame, and I'm not sure how many people can say that about their 20th, so I'm going to count it as a win. Everyone knows Eric is a way better person that I am anyway; this just proves it.

The end.

Another blow to my self-esteem

My head hurts, you guys, because I successfully caught Johanna's cold and my sinuses are jerks. Is it sinuses or sinus? I have no idea because my brains feel like they're being squished and it's just too much for me to contemplate right now.

So I'm in the perfect mindset to tell you a story is what I'm saying.

Once upon a time, like two days ago, I started planning the weekly feature I write for the newspaper, where I "spotlight" someone in the community and talk about what it is they do that makes them ... unique or special or different or ordinary or the same, really. It's like, "Who are the people in your neighborhood," only without the Muppets.

I had this one woman in mind because she's 94 and still volunteering at her previous place of employment, except it's still her place of employment, I guess, because she never left. I knew her back in the olden days when my mother worked with her, and I figured this would be a heck of a story because hello, who works at the same place for 60-plus years?

Yeah, no one.

This is EXACTLY what my desk looks like at work.

Anyway, she apparently doesn't believe in answering machines because every time I called, I got no answer even if I let it ring like 15 times. (Which is just embarrassing.) I struck out so many times I was wondering A) If this was the path to a restraining order and 2) If maybe it was time to come up with a Plan B.

But then she answered! Whew.

And I'm all, this is Trisha! I want to do a story on you! And she was like, nope. And I was all, listen, this is going to be a great, and my mom thinks so too! And she was like, don't think so, so I was all, please? I'll make it short! And she finally relented.

Because that's what I do: Bully the elderly.

She gave me, I'm not even kidding, a whole eight minutes of her time on the phone before she decided that was enough and she was through. And I was like, well, that's cool, I'll see you Thursday morning so I can take pictures.

She was not happy about that -- people generally hate the pictures more than the interview -- but she consented because hey, we'd come this far.

So Thursday morning, I waltz into her workplace and am all, hey there! And she's like, I didn't know it was you -- I'd have been nicer if I had.

That made me laugh. I made the mistake of giving her my married name, not my maiden name -- and so what if I've been a Walker for 20 years? I was a Morrissette for 23. So I guess I should have led with that.

Anyway, the moral of this story is that I am very popular and everyone knows immediately who I am whenever I introduce myself.

The end.

Oh, wait, not the end: I ended up having to interview some of the people she works with, just to bulk the story up a bit, because eight minutes ain't all that much time. Oh, and then I had these two little kids pose with her for one of the photos, and they thought they were in trouble because I forgot to tell them what we were doing, so they were very serious and scared and now I feel bad not only about bullying the elderly, but small children.

Now it's the end, because Eric wants to play Scrabble on Facebook.

Men.

Back to school...

Labor Day was late this year -- Sept. 7! -- and thus, school was late in starting, too. If I may be so bold as to start with a tangent, I've always found it interesting that we celebrate labor by not working. Although maybe that's the point.

Johanna's first day of school was Sept. 8, and, in her words, she has been "excited and terrified" to start fifth grade. Because it's her last year at Mid Valley (and the Walkers' 12th year ... we've been in and out of that school so much I can't even imagine NOT), and next comes middle school. And then, if you're Jo, high school, college, midlife crisis and death.

(The kid is a worrier. Huh. Wonder who she gets that from? Perhaps it was destiny that I named her after my "very alert" grandmother.)

But still, she was up and completely ready to go by 6:45 a.m. She wanted to leave the house by 7:30 for the 7:40 class start, and we totally would have made it too, had I not remembered that we needed Official First Day of School Photos (all caps so you know it's legit).

When I asked her how it all went, she said, "Good."

Well, that's going to satisfy the Grandmas...

But hey! Look how cute she was on her first day of school!

This kid is clearly mine.

All those Facebook shots of little girls in cute
little dresses ... this is like the anecdote to that.

Abby's first day of school and her first day of classes were two different things. She was at the high school Sept. 8 for registration, then back again Sept. 9 to show the Freshmen around (she's a LINK leader. I have no idea what "link" stands for. Something about unity, probably). But classes didn't technically start until Sept. 10 (happy birthday, Uncle Tree!).

I don't know, you guys. That seems really late to me.

Her thoughts: "Actually it didn't suck as bad as I thought but AP Chem already scares me."

Huh. I never even made it to Chem, let alone advanced Chem, so... I can't really comment on that.

...And the required first day of school shot for Abby, like so:

"Hi Classmates. I'm Abby Walker and I'm always hip for casual fun."
She asked me to write that.

So clearly excited that I'm making her take pictures!

Bonus shot: Abby and her friend were taking Very
Serious Photos. I'm not really sure what's going on
here -- she's either making a teepee for Skilly or she's
trying to build a fire -- but honestly, it's probably best if
it remains a mystery.

I've enjoyed the laziness of the summer -- I mean, I've gotten to sleep in too, since I've had no one to take anywhere but myself -- and its lack of schedules. And I think it's good for a kid to be bored all summer. Teaches them some life skills.

But I can't say I'm not also looking forward to fall. I love the crisp air, the fresh apples and the relief that comes when the days are more structured.

So here's to the unofficial start of a new season.

P.S. Fifth grade and 11th. I can't even, you guys.

A Very Minimalist Christmas III

Ah, Christmas in August! It's become a tradition, and you know what? It. Is. Awesome.

To recap: Since coming out as minimalists, my lovely parents have (mostly, I'm still trying to break Mom) foregone giving us Christmas presents in favor of all of us going on a trip together in the summertime. Past trips have included Wildlife Safari and the Redwoods, and Leavenworth, Wash.

This year, we went to Sunriver for an extended weekend.

We didn't mean to stay as long as we did, but apparently when you book rentals in Sunriver in the summer, they expect you to stay four nights at a minimum. So what could we do? I'm not sure you could even spend too much time in this place, anyway -- there's just so much to do, including sitting on your deck and reading the day away.

You can't get more perfect than that.

Oh, nothing, just a wild animal out the back door.

Friday, Aug. 21:
We rolled into town about 6:30 p.m., as we had to leave after I got home from work and it's a three hour drive. My parents were already there, and after taking a quick tour of our new digs (which were really nice -- some rentals are better than others, and ours was prefect for the six of us), we hit the Village to see what we could see. My parents hadn't been there before, so it was fun showing them the various shops and where we'd hoped to take them to dinner later.

And then we went home and hung out and were basically just awesome.

Saturday, Aug. 22:
The great thing about Sunriver is that there are wide, paved bike paths all over that place, so you basically just walk out your front door (well, we had to cross the street, but still) and you're on your way. (Eric said the thought was golf cart access, but it's turned into a bike trail that's equally as friendly to walkers. Which is good, 'cause we ARE.) So after breakfast, the six of us decided to check out Fort Rock Park. It was a pretty good stroll from our house, but no one seemed to mind. Once there, the girls lamented that they forgot their basketball, but Jo managed to still have a pretty good tetherball game with Grandma (and then Eric and Abby went all Napoleon Dynamite on each other), and Jo also enjoyed the playground scene.

So that was fun.

When we got back, I cracked open a book -- by which I mean I turned on my Kindle. This is where I read "Eleanor and Park" all in one day on the back porch of our house. I have no regrets.

But Johanna, Eric and Papa decided to go to the Sharc. Which is to say: A really great waterpark that includes basically any sort of water feature you can think of, from a "lazy river" to waterslides. This is also were Eric and Jo learned that 2-year-old Walmart sunscreen is not up to the task. Oops.

Our rental was within walking distance (well, everything in Sunriver is within walking distance if you're crazy enough, but this was only about a quarter-mile) of the Catholic church, so we hit the 5:30 Mass. And then got recruited to bring up the gifts. So we did. The priest was awesome, by the way. That's always a bonus.

After Mass came dinner -- Mom's lasagna -- and then Mom, Eric and the girls played Apples to Apples. Papa and I declined. But we got ours the next night, so don't even worry.

Sunday, Aug. 23:
When my parents saw that our rental had bicycles, my mother decided then and there that a bike ride was on her bucket list. Even though she apparently hasn't ridden a bike since high school.

Um, what could happen?

Still optimistic 'cause we're only in the driveway.

So we took a 78-mile ride (just kidding ... it was probably only four or five round-trip) with the Lodge as our final destination. Except you guys, I haven't ridden a bike since high school either, and wow, bicycle seats HURT. So when we got as far as the Village, I was like, you know what would be awesome? Coffee! So Mom, Abby and I found a coffee spot while Eric and Jo (who were riding tandem) and Papa went on.

Good thing I got a large.

That coffee shop was so crowded that I wasn't even back with our coffees by the time the other group went to the Lodge and back again. But I would like to announce that my iced latte and Abby's peach smoothie, and that blackberry crumb bar that also looked too good to resist, were amazing and totally worth the 20 minutes or whatever it took to get them.

And then we rode back.

And no one died!

I'm pretty sure that's the best we could have hoped for. I crashed on the couch because 78-miles (or four or five) is A LOT. Then I realized that a nap on the couch wasn't half as awesome as a nap on the deck, so I moved outside. Eric and Johanna decided it was game time at the kitchen table, Abby retreated to the room she was sharing with Johanna, and my parents decided what they really wanted to see was Tumalo Falls in the nearby Deschutes National Forest. Which they said was amazing.

My nap? Was also amazing.

For dinner that night, we took my parents to the Sunriver Brewing Company. You guys, if you are in Oregon and you want a great meal, look to the breweries. They're all family-friendly, the menus are generally reasonably priced and you're going to get full.

Three orders of fish and chips, two orders of pulled pork sandwiches and a cheeseburger later, we waddled out of there feeling pretty happy. That place is always packed, but we got there at the crack of 5, the logic being that only losers would be eating dinner that early, so we didn't have much of a wait. But it IS worth the wait, just FYI. Go there.

Ready for dinner!

Oh, and then we walked about the Village again ... and drove to the Lodge so the rest of us could see it. The wildfire smoke was so thick that you couldn't even see Mt. Bachelor, but whatever. We've gotten sadly used to wildfire smoke this summer.

Mom had such a fun time the previous night playing Apples to Apples that she made Dad and I play when we got home from dinner. The best part was knowing which cards were Dad's because he kept giggling every time he played. And even though the two of us are not game players, we had to agree that Apples to Apples is pretty great.

And then it was bedtime. We were wiped out.

Monday, Aug. 24:
One stop on Dad's list was Crater Lake, since we were so close. And by close, I mean within a couple of hours. But the park's north entrance was closed due to wildfire. No biggie, so we take an extra hour or whatever and hit the south entrance. Except the park cam showed it was socked in with that damn smoke, so we decided to forgo the lake in favor of Sisters.

Which is like a half-hour from Sunriver.

Mom bought me coffee because she loves me so much.

We walked around the shops, and I was half expecting to run into Rainn Wilson because one of the shopkeepers was going on about how she met him (he has a house close by?) and asked if he got told he looked like himself a lot and he said yes but she didn't know it was him until later.

More coffee, an apple fritter the size of my head, a chat with some UO fan who coached various sports who saw the girls and wanted to recruit them (his dog was AWESOME), and a picnic lunch in the park.

So that was fun.

Back at home, Eric and the girls and Dad went to play basketball, Mom and I chatted on the deck, and THEN some of the crazier among us decided to take another bike ride. You guys, what?

Tacos for dinner (or leftovers from the previous evening), and then! We hit the Village one last time for a round of mini-golf. That was super fun. Then Eric, the girls and I went on the bumper cars, which was also fun, but let's just say I don't need to do that again for a while. I came off of that thing feeling a little dizzy. Still, there's something to be said about crashing into your girls.

Hole in one!

Again! Abby and I were the only ones who did NOT.

Back at home, Jo and I hit the hot tub because she needed some more water time. And, I mean, how often do you have access to a hot tub in your back yard? Not often if you're me because my husband doesn't believe in hot tubs. I've tried.

And then bed. All that fresh air makes a person pretty tired.

Tuesday, Aug. 25:
Oh, you guys, I was so not ready to leave! Yeah, it was smoky for all the days except our first, but a girl can really get used to the quiet. I made Eric take some pictures of the deck before we left because I want to recreate such an oasis at our house. He said he thought it was actually a pretty boring deck, which surprised me. I mean, yeah, there wasn't much too it, but ... it seemed perfect to me.

You can't make me leave!

We all had such a great time, and we're already talking about next year -- same house, same time, same plan, except TWO rounds of mini-golf (one at the beginning and one at the end to see if we improve), more time at the Sharc, and Crater Lake this time for reals.

Bonus: We came back so relaxed from this trip. I really felt like I'd had a vacation.

P.S. My parents are super awesome for giving us this kind of a gift -- and I absolutely love that my girls have these memories. This kind of a thing is priceless. And it seems rather rich for a minimalist. But maybe that's the beauty of it all.

Thank you again, Parents! You guys are the best!

Five pointless updates!

1.
So yeah, pointless updates, which loosely translates at "I have nothing to say, yet I must say something, right?, so you get this crap." Ah, well. Who needs content? Not me. Obviously.

2.
My mental state has been on the cusp of collapse this week. This is because Skilly brought ANOTHER LIVE MOUSE to bed at 5:15 Tuesday morning (that was a hell of a wakeup call), and then this morning Eric found a dead baby mouse in our doorway, and then this evening between Skilly and the girls and Eric, we ushered three more babies out into the wilds. (Abby and Jo get credit for two.) As Eric was trying to get Mama out from under the couch, it ran into the kitchen to hide under my stove. So now, obviously, I can never go into my kitchen ever again.

Cats are highly overrated.

So yeah, it's been a bit of a trial.

3.
I've been on a hamster wheel at work, which means I'm getting nowhere fast. I literally spent yesterday trying to rustle up any kind of story (feature, business, back to school, community event, volunteer opportunity!), and you know what happened? Nothing. No one was answering, no one was returning my calls. It was not very good for my self-esteem. Anyway, today I managed to get my one "do or die" weekly series story done, but wow, it was an uphill battle.

Interviewing, taking photos and cranking out a story in the course of three hours is not how I like to roll. I have really had to come to grips with the fact that 85 percent of my stories are not as perfect as I would like them to be.

4.
I had my yearly exam this afternoon and got my flu shot. I was the first person to receive it at the clinic because they literally had just received their shipment. So I have a bandaid on my arm and it's sore, but I am feeling like such a responsible member of society. Oh, and my cholesterol is a thing of beauty, just FYI.

5.
Our poor little tourist town has been so hazy from the smoke of two forest fires (one and two), and that's just depressing. How hazy? We can't see either mountain -- Mt. Adams or Mt. Hood. It's like it's February and we're in an inversion or something. We've been able to smell the smoke, too.

Source.
We actually had people calling our office when it started, asking
if Mt. Adams was erupting. Dudes, no.

Not awesome. But today! The wind was blowing and not only could we see both mountains, we could actually see down the street! It was kind of weird, but I tried to just appreciate the clean fresh air and the crisp blue sky.

The end. Maybe by next Wednesday I'll have it in me to write a real post? Well, by Friday, at least...

It's a small world after all

Abby got her license on Tuesday, and since then, the kid has been itching to drive. I foresee being able to use this to my advantage, as in, I may never have to run errands ever again.

Or at least until she goes to college.

Proof!

Today Abby decided to come to my office around 12:30, because she had seen a Really Cute Sweatshirt in town and had decided it was calling her name. We walked there together on my lunch hour because I wanted to see it, too, but it turns out it had been sold. Bummer. So we were walking back towards my office to eat -- my favorite picnic lunch spot is the library park across the street -- when she decided what she really wanted to do next was hit the bookstore.

You can't say no to that, because books!

It's summer, and our town is hella touristy, so we were standing on the corner a full minute before a car actually stopped to let us cross the street. (So much for pedestrians having the right of way.) This nice lady was waving and waving at us, sort of frantically, I thought, when all of a sudden it clicked and I realized it was my cousin Shell.

Shell from Coeur d'Alene. Uh, what?!

So I'm like HEY! and then I'm in the middle of the street talking to her through her car window, which Abby found excessive and also kind of embarrassing, although she claims to have been just protecting me from getting hit by a car because I was standing in an intersection.

Riiiiiiiight.

Anyway, so Shell is like, I'll find a parking spot! Except again, hella touristy, so she had to go around the block and then some before she found a spot, but we finally met up by the curb and had a nice little chat. She and her daughter were coming back from my grandparents' (a la The Great House Cleanup), and she said she hadn't been through our town in a while and just wanted to see what was up, and she was thinking of me and suddenly there I was.

Weird. I mean, what's the chance?

I made her promise to call next time so we could actually do fun touristy things (or at least have a nice lunch somewhere), and YOU BETTER, SHELL. She totally will because I'm five weeks older and she has to do what I say.

Oh, and her daughter was wearing one of my grandma's old square-dancing dresses and that was hilarious.

So the moral of this story is: Pay attention when you're crossing the street. ;)