Another minimalist win

Christmas and birthdays are hard on the minimalist front. It seems so ungrateful to tell people who want to buy you stuff that you don't need or want said stuff, but not saying anything can get you back into the consumerism hole from which you've just clawed your way out. (Fun fact: Abby hates most of my word choices. "Just say it, Mom!")

I guess the good news is now that we've been out as minimalists for a year or two, we don't have to say anything at all. Christmas this year involved a lot of really thoughtful, consumable gifts (YAY COFFEE!). Our gifts to others tended to be along the same consumable lines, although I did make a scrapbook for my mother of Johanna's Backyard Carnival. Because that's all she wanted. And sometimes I listen.

Anyway, my mother-in-law called on Christmas Eve to ask what was on Johanna's list. "Jo is my hard one," she told me. Well, it doesn't help that Johanna's birthday and Christmas are 12 days apart. (Poor planning, my bad.) She rattled off some possible ideas, but there wasn't really anything on the list that wasn't already under the tree.

So I suggested that she just take Johanna somewhere. A couple of years ago, pre-minimalism even, she gave Abby a trip to a tea shop for her birthday and a ride on the Polar Express for Johanna's. Except then my father-in-law had brain surgery so I took Johanna instead. (It's cool; he's fine.) And I was like, um, maybe you could just do something with her? Like that one year? 

All of that is to say: On Christmas morning, Johanna opened a card from her grandparents that included a coupon for a lunch date with Grandma. ("Yes! I got a coupon!") And last week, Grandma took her on her date--they had lunch (Jo had fish and chips), they went to the history museum, they even did Grandma's errands at the church (cleaning and replacing candles around the altar). Oh, and got an ice cream cone to top it all off.

Johanna came back glowing. She loves one-on-one time and was just so happy as she told us about her day. And I appreciate that my mother-in-law was willing to go this non-traditional gift route. Sometimes people balk a bit because NOT giving something tangible seems... maybe not like a real gift.

But time IS a real gift. Thanks again, Grandma.

A jarring discovery for the new year

Source

Abby has been bugging the crap out of me lately because she's SO SURE she's taller than me, and takes every opportunity to invade my personal space to compare our heights. She's tall, I'll give her that, but is she taller than me? Um, no.

Look, I have been 6-feet plus since college. That's when I got my growth spurt. Although I was the tallest girl in my graduating high school class, now that I think about it. I always though that 5'11" would be the perfect height, because you're tall but not THAT tall, but alas, it was not meant to be.

Ahem.

Yesterday Abby had Eric get a tape measure to prove once and for all that she's surpassed my vertical limits, and he did one better because he got a tape measure and a level, so he could be sure we were standing straight, I guess. He's kind of a perfectionist. Moving on. So Abby goes and she's:

Five feet, 11 5/8 inches.

Then I go because sometimes I get competitive about weird things like height. And I am:

Five feet, 11 3/4 inches.

What does 5/8s even mean? Who cares, I win! I won't lie, I totally did a victory dance when we realized I'm still the tallest girl in this house. And then Abby was all, I guess it's not that I'm growing, it's just that you're shrinking, which kind of put a damper on my dance moves.

Because. I've spent most of my adult life with "six plus feet" as a big part of my identity. I'm that tall girl. Add to that the realization that shrinking happens as you get older, which clearly means I'm older. 

But then I'm all, I've always wanted to be 5'11"!, and it's kind of cool that I've finally gotten my wish.

So I'm kind of conflicted is what I'm saying.

Ah, well. The end.

Thursday "Art," Why we love Oregon edition

Eric took this on New Year's Day. 

I took this picture about an hour later.

The end.