Joyful Moments

Last conference, Elder Ballard mentioned how motherhood has moments of monotony, frustration, etc. But that it also has "moments of great joy and incredible fulfillment" (Ensign, May 2008, p. 109). Watching Talmage and Sydney building their brother-sister bond definitely falls into the latter category. A Waiting Stand-off perhaps falls into the former :) . . .

Getting the Giggles

Briton was being goofy.

Happy Birthday, Paula

Her penchant for geocaching is unparalleled

An eye for detail

Pens poetry

Persistent

Yuba Lake. That is, Crater Lake

Beautifies the world around her

Intelligent

Riotous Ticket to Ride

Thanksgiving sausage and chapsticks

Horticultural hobbyist

Deeply loves her family

Automotive specialist

You deserve the best day, ever!

We love you!

With Kind Regards, Your HOA

Have you ever received a letter from your Homeowner’s Association? Oh, my word. It is so humiliating. As if it weren’t bad enough knowing you have the worst “lawn” in the neighborhood, now you are told in writing. When I got the mail today and saw the envelope with the HOA as the return address, I knew what it was before I even opened it. The thought that it would be about Lafawnduh putting us “out of compliance” didn’t even cross my mind. It had to be about our yard.

Our yard has been a moss-infested, weed-cultivating organic showcase since way before we moved here. I’m surprised we didn’t get The Letter sooner, because once we decided to stop fighting the clover, dandelions, and other “noxious weeds” (as the letter says) and just re-sod, we stopped watering. The yard quickly became a mostly brown, cracked dry-earth embarrassment in which a lot of green weeds still manage to thrive. It took a lot of humility to go out one Saturday and mow the weeds down while the neighbors were lovingly tending their lush, green lawns with fingernail files. Whenever I see a neighbor I mumble something about how we’re going to sod the yard and then quickly change the subject. Once, someone a few houses down said, “Oh! We were just at the top of the cul-de-sac today (insert pronounced pause) … Your lawn has such a nice shape.” Talk about looking for the silver lining. I’m pretty sure she didn’t rat on us. But someone did. The letter says, “…It has come to our attention that the current condition of your property has deteriorated and requires immediate attention.” Who told? Or did the HOA Board personally stand outside our house and weep about the yard? Was I home at the time?! Hang my head in shame. And what about that “deteriorated”? Ouch. Couldn’t it have been put more gently? How about, “…It has come to our attention that the current condition of your property has … slipped … a bit …”?

The letter goes on to quote the CC&R’s. As if I would even challenge the letter. It is so completely deserved. Because the yard really is that bad. "Deteriorated" is, actually, putting it gently. The irony of it all is that we really are working on it. Just not very fast. With this letter, though, we'll pick up the pace (by hiring someone to help us). Then, mark my words, in "30 days or less", we’ll be beaming, model citizens in the HFV community who can look our neighbors in the eye. Watch property values sky-rocket.

(Note: before and after photos will be forthcoming).

Birthday Boys

M. is Talmage's twin. He was born three hours before T, on the other side of midnight. Have I mentioned this before? Anyway, his mom threw a Curious George party on the 22nd in their comfy, cool backyard. Here we are, monkeying around and eating cake. We had so much fun!

The next night we celebrated Talmage's birthday with a correctly-themed cake. Anything "car" definitely took the cake, you could say. Thanks to grandparents on both sides, family and friends for your care packages...

...especially the package! You can't go wrong with a cardboard box.

Hanging Out

Happy Birthday, Talmage

Before you were born, I remember your dad and I holding a pair of newborn socks and thinking that you would soon arrive and fill them. We tried to comprehend what it would be like to finally meet you and get to know you. There was a happy rush of anticipation for the day you would arrive. Come you did, and getting to know and love you for two years now is a great privilege. I admire your thirst for learning, your gleeful laughter, your careful study of detail in books and the world around you. You love playing with your cars, swimming, singing, dancing, reading books, going to the playground, chasing your friends. You are a very attentive and caring older brother, and have been from the beginning. Often you will pick up a car and place it in Sydney’s infant hands, saying, “Hold!” Surely, as you go through life you will be able to hold your relationship with her very close. You are an important part of our family. We love you very, very much. Happy Birthday, T.

Strawberry Days

On Saturday we visited a local "U-Pick" with Honey Jo. You'll notice from the pictures why they are called strawberries. I like this farm because the rows are so clean.

HOORAY!

I was wondering if two nights ago was a fluke. I was tempted to blog about two nights ago because it was so wonderful. However, I thought I'd wait and see what happened last night. Guess what? It happened again! Definitely Blog-Worthy. Folks, the moment you've all been waiting for ... [trumpet fanfare]: Sydney Ruth slept through the night!!! By "sleeping through the night" I mean this: she ate last at 9 p.m., was put in her crib at 10 p.m. where she subsequently drifted off to dreamland without nary a peep. No peep until 5 a.m. this morning, wherein I fed her and she went right back to sleep. She's still there. It's 8:12 a.m. and she is still asleep. And so is Talmage. I love my life. Oh! And the sun is shining, there was a "full" moon last night, strawberries are finally ripening, I'm going to cook a turkey tonight, and Sydney slept through the night two nights in a row without "crying it out". Did I say I love my life? Hooray!

Let me emphasize why this is so great that Syd is learning her sleeping lessons. About a month ago I needed to write a check for, what I heard the cashier say, was "65.78." I wrote the check, and while I'm writing it I'm thinking, "This doesn't seem right." But I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong. My brain felt so foggy. I handed him the check and he said, "The amount is wrong. It's 68.75." Not only had I heard wrong, but when I looked at the check again, the line where you spell out the amount looked like this: "six five and no/100" SIX FIVE? What does that mean? Sleep deprivation. It wears on a gal.

The Street Will Provide

This does not refer to garage sales. No. It means the literal street will give you what you need. "The street will provide" was a part of the Kartchner family philosophy. One item the street proffered comes immediately to mind: toilet paper. My dad loved it when ours or any house was toilet papered. He'd collect as much as he could salvage for his personal use. If a spare roll was left in the gutter, all the better. Once, on our way to church he spotted such an unappreciated roll. An entire roll! "Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa," he exclaimed as he slammed on the brakes and leaped out of the car to retrieve the white bundle of gold. "Two-ply, even!" he would have beamed, silently praising the acts of juvenile delinquency that allowed him to be the recipient of such bounty. Meanwhile, I'm slouched down in the seat, trying to avoid eye-contact with all the neighbors who are passing us on their way to church.

As I got older, I learned the benefits of this philosophy, however. For example, on my mission in Taiwan, my companion and I found an abandoned wicker chair. We looped it onto the handlebars of my bike and carted it home for the beautification of our apartment. A couple years ago I was jogging in Heidi's neighborhood and passed a wooden bookshelf set out on the sidewalk. A bookshelf! Must've been worth a hundred bucks. "Free", the sign said. I nabbed it.
Just think of all the savings living this philosophy assures, not to mention getting to use two-ply instead of single-ply during the prime-time summer toilet-papering months.

Thanks to modern technology, "The Street Will Provide" has an expanded scope. There's a Yahoo! group called "Freecycle" where people advertise their unwanted stuff. All this stuff is there for the taking, just as if it were sitting in the street. Today, we acquired this beautiful, rustic (read: rusty) wheelbarrow from Freecycle. What are some cool free things you've found on the "street"?

Sydney Finds Her Toes

Sydney is a good sport. Below Talmage is helping her learn to roll over.

Happy Birthday, Mom

This picture says a lot about my mom. In West Virginia, we all went white water rafting and ditched her with two nursing babies. She didn't even blink at the proposition. Here she is strapped to one granddaughter and holding the other with imperturbable equanimity. Don't get me wrong. There are things that perturb. Like computers. But in the things that matter, mom, you're tops. Like your love for others. And for me. You came running to mop your postpartum daughter's kitchen floor (and clean behind and under the fridge), walk the halls all night with the newborn, fill the freezer with meals, take Talmage on adventures, and increase our garlic press count to one. For your listening ear, your sound advice, and your ability to not sweat the small stuff, thanks. I love you.

Backblogging

I found the "sleeping in the wardrobe" picture. You can see it on the "Where's Talmage" post.

"The Summer of the Green Tomato"

That is what I overheard on the MAX today. Yes, another COLD June day. I keep thinking, "People in Iceland still go on with their lives when it's not only cold, but dark." Determined not to spend the day inside the house, I bundled up Talmage and Sydney and off we went to OMSI, the Science Museum. I bundled them up because I decided to take public transport instead of the car ... you know ... gas being what it is and OMSI being where it is. Our transportation adventure included walking, light rail, and bus.Here is Talmage (and Sydney asleep in carseat), waiting for the bus downtown.

Talmage is cooking vegetables, Sydney is watching the lights, a foot is not stepping on Sydney's head.

T really enjoyed the fake food area at OMSI. Tonight we continued with the cooking theme by making cookies together for the first time. I asked T what I should make out of the dough and he said, "Mater Truck." I don't know what was more fun, making the cookies or eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeating the cookies. Yum. Yum.I wonder if our kids think they are on a Reality T.V. show, what with all the camera clickin' going on. If not a Reality show, then for sure cooking show.

"Popcorns!"

Family Home Evening was brought to us by the Family Home Evening Resource Manual. As suggested, we sent these boys on a treasure hunt all over the house. They eventually found the treasure, as pictured above. These boys were all over this bowl of popcorn. Which, incidentally, highlights a quirk of the English language. Why do we always refer to popcorn in the singular? Talmage calls it "popcorns", because, obviously, there are/is? more than one.

A Poem for Kim...

...courtesy of Sylvia Plath

YOU'RE
Clownlike, happiest on your hands,
Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled,
Gilled like a fish. A common-sense
Thumbs-down on the dodo's mode.
Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,
Trawling your dark as owls do.
Mute as a turnip from the Fourth
Of July to All Fools' Day,
O high-riser, my little loaf.

Vague as fog and looked for like mail.
Farther off than Australia.
Bent-backed Atlas, our travelled prawn.
Snug as a bud and at home
Like a sprat in a pickle jug.
A creel of eels, all ripples.
Jumpy as a Mexican bean.
Right, like a well-done sum.
A clean slate, with your own face on.

A nice and fine afternoon with you, Kim. Dude. We love you.

Super Delegates

It looks like Lafawnduh, suffering from lonliness (and perhaps guilt?) is in a "delegate" position. Only eleven hours left before the vote closes. Given the suspicious photo, can she win enough support to absolve her of the fowl deed?

Where's Talmage?

Naptime. Indulge me in a journey down memory lane. The four of us kids went through a period of time where we would sleep anywhere except in our beds. The above picture taken in Egypt is a case in point. Drew and Heather are in the very top shelves. That's me on the left (I started out the night with the closet door closed. It seemed very adventurous - tho' cramped - at the time). Fast forward to present time, where I see my own son preferring the floor to his bed. In what unusual, unlikely places have you slept in your life?

Today, after listening for quite awhile to Talmage banging around in their bedroom when I should only have been hearing rhythmic snoring, I started wondering if the noise would wake up Sydney. She was taking a nap in the crib. So, probably against all parenting magazine advice, I decided I'd venture in. I lifted him up onto his bed and laid down beside him and closed my eyes, hoping to encourage sleep by example. No such luck. After half a second, he scooted himself off the bed, walked to the open bedroom door, grasped the door handle, and turned to face me. "I love you," he said, as he closed the door and toddled off down the hall. The role reversal made me smile, especially as I contemplated that that meant his job was folding laundry and weeding the yard while I napped. Again, no such luck. After a minute or so, I tiptoed down the hall and found him kneeling at the couch, deeply absorbed in driving his cars around. He finally did take a (short) nap ... around 3 p.m. ... on the floor in his room.Sometimes, transitions can be hard. Literally.

Get Well Notes

The update on Sydney's ear infection: with each dose, she gagged, coughed, and vomited up the bubblegum flavored amoxicillin and the rest of her stomach contents. She is not a bubblegum baby. Another doctor visit later, we left with a new prescription for cherry flavored Azithromycin. She gags on that, too. However, she hasn't had a fever since Sunday and she's tolerating the ear drops okay. The doctor said her eardrum looked like it was on the mend. Thanks for everyone's concern. We came home from errands to find this on the doorstep:

"Translation: 'Sydney, I heard you were sick .. with boogers coming out your ears - bummer!'"

"I hope you are feeling better now! Love, Your Friend, Sonya. P.S. Hope you enjoy the soup I made."

The soup was a bowl of rice cereal flakes. Thanks, Sonya! This made us giggle. It was very thoughtful of you to slave away in the kitchen on Sydney's account, especially when you've been feeling under the weather yourself.

(note: for those who may not know, Sonya is 5 months old. She's on solids. And she can write. And cook! She's a very precocious 5 month old).

Make No Beans About the Wheat

For some reason, lately, the subject of Food Storage really makes my skirt fly up. I was so excited to open the first bucket of Food Storage Wheat today. I'm all about rotation. This is an extra special bucket because it contains wheat that is as old as Briton and I. Briton's folks acquired this wheat as part of their food storage plan the year Briton was born. But just loooooook at it! It doesn't look a day past 30.

Beautiful wheat!
Not a single weevil or donkey tooth in sight.

Worked like a charm!

Tasty slice of fresh bread, smothered in Oregon marionberry jam.

So when you look at the LDS church "family home storage center products" order form, and it says Hard Red Wheat has a storage life of 30+ years... it's true. It does. Thirty-three years and counting.

Now, if you want to talk about kidney beans, that's another story. Unrelated to the wheat entirely.

After extensive internet research (i.e. one Google search), I learned that dry kidney beans last about 8-10 years. No matter to my dad. He would off-load his "reject" stuff (e.g. photographs... beans ...) on people rather than throw it away. As long as someone else is doing the throwing away, then his conscious is clean.

I found my pop's propensity to pawn kidney beans during his last several visits. He'd fill a sandwich-size ziploc baggie full of beans, tuck it behind the bookshelf, and then leave the state. Or the country. I'd find kidney bean caches all over the house for weeks. But it's not like they're good for food storage anymore. They've lived their shelf-life and then some. Those kidney beans. Man. They're so dessicated, I swear you'd have to soak them a week and then boil the beans out of them before they were edible. So I guess not all food storage makes my skirt fly up. At least, not those beans.