It’s too hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooottttttttt July 29, 2009

So, we’ve spent the last 7 days under an “Extreme Heat Advisory”–temps have been running a little bit above 100, which isn’t unusual for the area. What IS unusual is having that many 100+ degree days, having them all in a row, and having them with humidity (Someone needs to remind Mother Nature that we are in a freaking desert. Sagebrush. Rattlesnakes. Tumbleweeds. ARID.).Which means that much past 10AM, it’s too hot to do much outside, because it’s already near 90.

This leads to lots of cranky babies, and lots of cranky mamas. All the indoor places to take children for large-muscle play are either 1) expensive or 2) packed. I’ve resorted to getting the girls up early, and pushing their little fannies outside for a couple of hours before it gets too hot, and then we stay inside for the rest of the day. It doesn’t cool down until around 10PM, so after this little morning outside period, they don’t see the light of day for the rest of the day.

I cannot even begin to articulate how much this sucks.

My saving grace had been the slip ‘n slide. We’d lay it out on the shady side of the house, and let the girls slip and slide. But today when I logged onto Facebook, I saw that the city has had some sort of damage happen in an irrigation canal, and they’re asking the residents in the south part of town (i.e us) to not use much water for lawns or gardens. I’m thinking if they won’t let us water our lawns or gardens, they’d probably be a bit frowny over a slip ‘n slide.

Kids can only watch DVDs for so long, before everything goes to shit. Coloring, markers, playdough, stories…it all only entertains so long, before their unspent energy shoots out of their face in the form of a tantrum, a crying jag, maniacal laughter, or biting their sister. Sarah has turned into a sass monster par excellence, and if it’s even possible Nea is more emotionally sensitive than usual.

There’s no real break in the weather for the next 10 days. I’m not sure we’ll make it. I might have to do something drastic, like take the girls on a mini-break somewhere cool. But where?

Fly away, Jill July 27, 2009

Linnea is due to start kindergarten on September 2. I registered her this spring. It was very emotional for me. Her turning 5 in January was very emotional for me. All these milestones that told me that my eldest chick was going to start taking short flights from the nest. I remembered bringing her home from the hospital, and wondered how in the hell 5 years could go by so quickly. My sweet, wee Kansas Baby was growing up! And while I rejoiced in that, at the same time: I was sad. I missed the snuggly baby. The good nurser. My first baby.

Yeah. I’m over it.

Much like the last few weeks of pregnancy are so fucking miserable that a woman can’t wait to crap a watermelon out a hole the size of a grape (“An eight inch needle in my spinal cord? Sure! Go ahead! Just get this kid the hell out! I miss my feet!”), I think the behavior of a five-year-old mere weeks before starting school is designed so that the Mama Bird enthusiastically pushes her Baby Bird into the great big world of elementary school. If Baby Bird is lucky, Mama Bird doesn’t change the locks.

Sofa King Wee Todd Ed July 24, 2009

Last night, M and I got into a fight. Over what, you ask?

A Slip ‘n Slide.

Specifically, the Slip ‘n Slide I bought for the girls (for $9.99) because it’s beastly hot out, but I don’t like to fill the 8 ft. wading pool I bought them because then they can’t be outside alone because of the drowning danger. He made a comment about “wants vs. needs” (our current financial mantra), and how when he got all excited that “Watchmen” is coming out on DVD, I asked him to remember “wants vs. needs”.

It really irritated me. That he would equate a Slip ‘n Slide (that I can honestly see all of us playing with) to “Watchmen”–a DVD that he would be the ONLY one to get any enjoyment out of whatsoever. My feeling is that when you’re dealing with a limited number of “want” dollars, you should try and make sure those “want dollars” go toward satisfying the largest number of people possible. He, apparently, held a different view, that “want dollars” were “want dollars”. Period.

We got into it. Over a damn Slip ‘n Slide. I’m not sure how we managed to fight with such passion without looking at one another and cracking up. Seriously.

The best I can say is that we didn’t go to bed angry. We still don’t see eye to eye, but we’re over the Slip ‘n Slide bit. Marriage can be sofa king wee todd ed.

Dusty, henceforth to be known throughout the land as Charlie July 22, 2009

Yesterday, the girls and I adopted a cat. This cat:

He’s four months old, a domestic shorthair that the shelter named “Dusty”. None of us were impressed by that name, so once I convinced Linnea that “Lagloobadoll” wasn’t a valid name for anything, much less a pet, she suggested we call him “Charlie”, which I thought was fabulous.

He is a very sweet boy. Pretty mellow. Rode all the way home in his little carrier without making a peep even once, only taking time to occasionally touch the finger I had shoved through one of the holes so he’d know he wasn’t alone. He’s got this great, deep, rumbling purr that sounds like it should belong in a cat about four times his size. Sarah calls him “My Chaw-wee”, and is already quite devoted to him. Linnea has cleaned the litterbox every single time he’s used it (yeah, that won’t last long). Even my mom and dad seem to be getting attached to the little tyke.

The shelter folks were SO excited that we picked him out. He’d been there since April, and I wanted to ask them why, but then decided: don’t care. If he’s a problem cat, we’ll find out soon enough. But nearly 24-hours in: I think he was just waiting for us.

Wounded Faith July 20, 2009

The week I spent on vacation, I spent a lot of time beachcombing.

The ocean speaks so much to my soul. She is an entity to me…not a diety, but certainly a sentient being. I talk to her while I walk her shore. I approach her always with hands held open for the gifts that I know will be there, though simply being beside her is gift enough. I don’t demand anything from her. I simply dwell in her presence. Each bit of agate, or beach glass, or shell, or interesting rock that she places in my path is a gift for which I give thanks. And I believe that every treasure I found was a treasure meant for me–how else can you explain that dozens of people can be beachcombing around me, and not pick up the treasure before I do? Because we’re each given different gifts. They have no claim on mine, and I have no claim on theirs.

I breathe her in…the scent of the air, the tang of low-tide, the cold, almost metallic taste of her water. I work my feet into the sand, let her wind tug at my hair. I bring my children to her, and teach them to love and respect her as I do. My beloved and I wrap up in one another, and sit in companionable silence to watch her waves pound against the shore. And at the end, when I must leave and it feels as though something in me is being torn, I go to her, and I tell her good-bye.

This summer, I found myself wondering why I didn’t have a similar relationship with God. Why I felt so free to complain to Him, snipe at Him, make demands of Him, whine about how the gifts He’s given others are better than the gifts He’s given me–that I deserve their gifts and my gifts, because of all that He’s put me through (because my trials and struggles have been oh-so-much greater than the trials and struggles of everyone else). How I don’t approach Him in grateful, tip-toeing love, respect, awe, and peace, but more as a fishwife, voice raised in nigh-constant harrangue.

And then have the gall to wonder why He seems to be ignoring me.

So that has been my spiritual discipline for the last week or so. To simply dwell in the Presence of the Most High. To (try) and not make demands, but simply sit, hands open for the gifts that I know will be there. To express gratitude for what has been given, rather than complain about how what I got isn’t the same as what someone else got. To realize that when I waste time looking about at what others have, I miss the enjoyment of what I have; and to realize that there are probably plenty of people looking at my gifts and thinking that I’m not coming out of the deal too harshly. To take the time to agree with them: fishwife or no, the blessings have rained down thick and fast on this stubborn and stiff-necked Child of God.

The seminary process, the synodical process, and working in the church gave me a very dark view of Christianity, and God. I said that it didn’t. That I was angry at the Church, but still loved God. But my tagline wouldn’t speak to me so deeply if that was the case. I have felt, for nearly ten years now, deeply wounded by God. Before I was a pastor? I could hear God speak to me. After? I couldn’t. Not so clearly. And lately: not at all. Bitter and angry, I changed from a person who treated God like a beloved Father to someone who treated God like a vending machine–“I did what you want, now what do I get?” or “Remember when I had to watch Rollie burn to death? You owe me for that.” or any of the other really flattering things I could write here. As though I had (or deserved) some sort of equal-footing relationship with God. As though he owed me something beyond dying to give me life. As though I were specially singled out to have to deal with the shit of life, when really: not one of us are exempt from it.

The gift of self-realization I’ve been given in the last few weeks has been far from flattering. It’s been quite excruciating, actually. To be brought to the place where I am shown my flaws, and can no longer counter with a “Yeah, but…” but only look at myself and writhe in embarassment at my extreme arrogance. To feel like I need to ask forgiveness of everyone I’ve interacted with for the last decade or so, because I’ve truly believed that what I was going through was so outside the realm of fairness and so beyond what they were going through that it somehow made me superior to them, “Look what I’ve survived, puny ones! I’ve watch a man burn. I’ve held a woman who killed her own child! Kansas! North Dakota! Bankruptcy! Double suicides! Threatened miscarriage! Crippling depression! A husband I sometimes get out of sync with! Look at my life and tremble before the suffering!”

Which is not to belittle the suffering I’ve seen and experienced. It has, in many ways, sucked wookie. But it is to elevate the suffering of others to being at least has significant as my own, and in many ways: worse. For the suffering I’ve experienced has largely been the suffering of others, and not my own. Death has come close, but it was not my husband that burned nor my child that was killed.

I have luxuriated in a decade-long temper tantrum. It’s time to grow the hell up. It’s time to humbly beg forgiveness.

May you be blessed forever, Lord, for not abandoning me when I abandoned you.
May you be blessed forever, Lord, for offering your hand of love in my darkest, most lonely moment.
May you be blessed forever, Lord, for putting up with such a stubborn soul as mine.
May you be blessed forever, Lord, for loving me more than I love myself.
May you be blessed forever, Lord, for continuing to pour out your blessings upon me, even though I respond so poorly.
May you be blessed forever, Lord, for drawing out the goodness in all people, even including me.
May you be blessed forever, Lord, for repaying our sin with your love.
May you be blessed forever, Lord, for being constant and unchanging, amidst all the changes of the world.
May you be blessed forever, Lord, for your countless blessings on me and on all your creatures.

~Teresa d’Avila (1515-1582)

I know you’ve been living on the edge over this, but… July 18, 2009

…I kept the blue hair. Jana said it looked fine, and didn’t need to come out if I didn’t want it to. I’ve grown extremely attached to it, so I kept it. 🙂

Now I’m off to sermonate…

CRAZY-ass dream. Seriously. Consider yourself warned. July 17, 2009

So, I haven’t been sleeping well lately. I think I discovered the cuplrit this morning, because if this dream is any indication of how my mind is spending it’s downtime: no wonder it doesn’t want to go to sleep.

I had a dream that I had a penis-type growth growing out the arch of my foot. I say growth. That’s a lie. I had a dream I had a penis growing out of the arch of my foot, off to the side. It would get long and slightly erect. It would get small and flaccid. In the dream, I was quite distressed over it. Not necessarily that I had a penis growing out of my foot, but how in the world was I going to wear shoes?! And all the medical people I showed the penisfoot to were completely blase about it, like, “Yeah. It happens. Get some Compound W.”

So weird. So glad M woke me up when he did.

And now I’m going to get all kinds of google hits for the words “erect” and “penis”. Great.

Speaking of: I did do dream analysis of the dream. Turns out that dreaming about a penis can reflect a strong sexual libido or a feeling of power and dominance (yeah, surprising they’d say that, right? *insert eye roll here* I think it’s because it’s so ridiculous looking. Some intelligent guy back in the mists of time thought, “I have to convince her it’s about power, otherwise she’ll just laugh at it.”) and dreaming of feet can either mean I’m joyous and carefree, or that I’m worried about my foundation.

Clearly, free internet dream interpretation is not an exact science. Unsurprisingly, “penis growing out of my foot” wasn’t an option for interpretation.

I love my new salon July 16, 2009

So, I recently started going to a new salon. I mentioned it in one of my pre-vacation entries, where I raved about Jana and her extreme patience with me, my children, my eyebrows, and my desire for last-minute blue hair.

Saturday I’m going in to have the blue hair taken out, and get a haircut. I’m going to miss this hair. It made me feel edgy and cool. It made edgy and cool people think I was edgy and cool. And while that illusion lasted only until they encountered my Eddie Bauer tshirt, crop pants, and my Ryka mary janes (how much more of a mom uniform do you want?), M pointed out: “but you’re an edgy and cool mom!”  I got SO many compliments on it, many from people I expected would be mildly disapproving. People in church on Sunday came up to say how much they liked it, how much fun it was, and asked if I was going to keep it. I wish. But I am already trying to think of what color I want for next year…bright pink? Bright purple? One of each? Only time will tell…

One of the things I love very best about Salon Monroe is that they allow you to book your appointment on-line. This is hugely convenient for me, because I loathe having to use the phone. I really, really do. If you want to get any sort of immediate response from me: email, baby. Because I screen my calls, and rarely check my voicemail. I’m a highly functioning introvert, but an introvert all the same.

Plus, my eyebrows? They look AMAZING. Ever since I got my contacts back, I had been meaning to get my brows done (since I could no longer hope to camoflage my eastern-european/quasi-siberian ancestory with the frames of my glasses). I LOVE having my eyebrows waxed. It feels so good! And looks so good when it’s done! Happy.

Blue hair and good eyebrows. What more does a girl need?

Not sure if I’m feeling all domestic goddessy or Amish, but… July 15, 2009

On our way home from vacation last week, we stopped in Portland to go to The Fabric Depot.  If you live in the Pacific Northwest and love crafting/sewing and haven’t been there: go! It’s SO totally worth any amount of travel it takes to get there.  I have no idea how big it is, so I’ll just guesstimate at hugenormous (and yes “hugenormous” must be itallicized). Mom, T, and I were able to browse for about an hour, and I feel like I barely even scratched the surface of the fabric and craft nirvana that exists within those four walls. I immediately began to lobby for a return “crafting girls only” trip, because frankly: I could probably happily spend an entire day in that place.

Mom is 100% on-board with another trip to the Depot, but she cautioned that I need to know what sorts of things I want to make, otherwise I’ll just buy a crap-ton of fabric that I love, but don’t really have any projects for it. Ah, Mum certainly does know me. So in the last week, I’ve been on the lookout for projects that are worthy of a trip to the Fabric Depot.

The other day I found this:

According to the catalog, it says it’s a perfect beginner quilt because you don’t have to make your seams line up precisely. Not being a huge fan of precision–or rather a fan, but not a practioner–this seemed like an attractive quality for this quilt. I’ve tried to make a quilt. A beautiful quilt, done in asian shades of teal and purple and grey. I’ve cut it out. I’ve sewn it together. And I can’t get the friggin’ seams to line up. And it looks ghastly. So: no lined up seams? Sign me up!

I also ordered this pattern:

The one for the bags. If they work, and are fun, I’ll order the basket one. I just think they’re so pretty! And I could use it for my marketing bag, which I love. So those are my two (so far) projects that I need to find fabric for at the Depot.

This time around? I bought some adorable flannel for a baby blanket I’m knitting (one of about five I’m currently working on), and some soft, wonderful, pink floral cotton for a nightgown for me, and some 48 inch circular needles for knitting blankets. It’s difficult to find the nice looooong circular needles, so I end up cramming stitches on the shorter ones, and then dropping them, and then swearing, and then the girls learn new and colorful language that they trot out at church, and….well, apparently too-short knitting needles can be blamed for a whole host of disasters. I was lucky to get out of there with just those items. I wanted many, many, many more.

Now I suppose I better get some of the other sewing projects I have here at home out of the way before I bring more in.

More Vacation Pictures July 13, 2009

Sisters...

 

Nea and her reflection...

 

My sweet beach bum...

 

My blue vacation hair...

A sandy SarahBeth...

Sick of the city, wanting the sea...