Open Adoption

We recently had a very tender experience with D., Isaac's birthmom. Afterwards, just she and I had some time to chat. I loved getting to know her better. It got me thinking that Isaac's adoption isn't just about my cousins and D, and me and D. via my cousins. It's also about me and D., directly. It's like we got a new family member, besides Isaac. She deepens the sense of family.

Isaac's adoption story is unique and beautiful. D. created this movie about his arrival and placement with Dave and Jo. Keep a Kleenex handy.

Abacus' Father-in-Law Sounding

I asked my dad, who is retired, how today's stock market downturn affected his "piles of gold". Everyone is in differing financial situations, but his response is a voice of steadiness and offers insight that I believe is applicable to many. Below is a portion of his email response:

"...One lesson to remember is that the market responds to psychology as much as to economic forces. And drastic falls, like today, will give way to sudden surges and no one can predict those days. So, if it doesn't drive you crazy, you stay invested with the confidence that in the long run you will do better than anything else you could do with your money. It may take years, but it will be worth the wait.

"Here is one thing you will see: in the next few months there will be advertisements about programs, funds, or books that will show fantastic returns while our investments have tanked. But you won't hear from these same people a few years from now. There is no magic formula and no one knows what the market will do, much less when it will do it.

"Here is what Fisher says:
"'These are extraordinary times but they won't last forever. Now more than ever we urge you to exercise continued patience. Living through abnormally high volatility can be very uncomfortable, but now is a treacherous time to attempt to stem the temporary discomfort by abruptly selling out."

"The only time the piles of gold are affected is when you sell. Just because it is less on paper will only bother you if you let it. Marianne's grandpa had investments he bought in the 1920s when he was a 'prominent man' in the Kettle Valley Railway. He lost his job (because Canadian Pacific bought the little railroad) and they moved to California. But he did not sell when the market fell apart nor during the Great Depression. By the time Marianne came along he was a wealthy man again. It took over 10 years, but those who sold in panic or jumped out of windows were worse off than he."

Acres of Art in Creation

Tonight, at the General Relief Society Conference broadcast, President Uchkdorf delivered a thoughtful address about how creation and compassion foster Godlike happiness. It's worth a read and re-read. Look for it here (tho' it may not be available until after October 5th).

In talking about our capacity for creativity, he said, "You are spirit daughters of the most creative Being in the Universe." Wow. There is no such thing as a person with "no talent" since all of us, every single one of us 'umble creatures, has a spiritual heritage of creativity. He went on to talk about how we participate in creation when we bring something into being that wasn't there before; so that includes the art in creation of things like teaching and nurturing a child, building family memories, and making greasy eggs. This rings true to me. But read his talk to get the real gist.

It was a fulfilling evening (and not just 'cause I ate 5 cookies afterwards). I look forward to General Conference this next weekend.

The Work of Play

Psst. Pass It On!

I don’t collect anything. I am an un-collector. Knick-knacks? Dicey. Nirvana is throwing away an empty shampoo bottle. College textbooks? Nada. OK, OK. I still have two – but they’re both ones I still reference. I love getting rid of stuff. (sidenote: and I married a guy who likes to hold onto things: empty appliance boxes, plastic sacks, old "classic" college textbooks, shot glasses. So, uh ... I guess we are the yin and yang of Stuff and that makes us Whole. That's Good). Bringing this up, plus the recent “Piles” post, may seem to contradict what I’m about to confess. But I must come clean: I just love, love, love the local, biannual Pass It On sale. It’s a consignment sale for kids stuff. You can buy lots of stuff (clothes, toys, books, etc) and bring it home to fill the closets and shelves you’ve been fighting so vigilantly to empty.

This time I decided to be a consigner myself because a) I got to go through boxes of Talmage and Sydney-clothes and get rid of some stuff (except for anything you gave us), and b) consignors get to go to a “pre-sale” and get first-dibs before the public comes. The pre-sale was today. I got out of there spending, on average, just below $3 per item. Way better than buying new things – not as good as garage sales. But now there’s new stuff to get rid of in the future.

This is Not a Pipe

It's a tomatillo! Until last night, I had no idea what a tomatillo was. Since then I've learned, like the tomato, the tomatillo is from the nightshade family. Which I believe is Poisonous*. But the non-toxic portion is a key ingredient in this delicious recipe.

Rosie’s Chicken Salad with Tomatillo Dressing (from Michelle H.)

2 bunches of Romaine lettuce	Tortilla strips
Grilled chicken breasts	Avocado (optional)
1 ½ cups of Romano cheese	Tomatillo dressing
Zaterain’s black bean rice mix (prepared as directed-I add ¾ c. white rice, 1 ½ c. water)	½ bunch fresh cilantro (optional)
2 cans black beans, rinsed	Fresh lime slices (optional)

Chicken Garlic Lime Marinade:

¼ c. olive oil	Juice from 2 fresh limes
6 Tbl. Soy sauce	1 tsp. salt
¼ c. red wine vinegar	1 ½ tsp. black pepper
6 Tbl. Worcestershire sauce	Cloves of crushed fresh garlic
6 boneless, skinless chicken breasts

In a large resealable bag, blend all in the bag. Place the chicken breasts in and shake. Marinade for at least 6 hours. Try not to leave in longer, as the citrus juice will toughen the chicken. Rotate the bag often to get complete sides of chicken.

Rosie’s Tomatillo Dressing:

1 jalapeno pepper	¾ jar of Ranch dressing
2 medium tomatillos cut into bite size	Salt to taste
½ bunch fresh cilantro	Juice from 1 fresh lime

Pour Ranch dressing in blender, add jalapeno, tomatillo pieces and cilantro. Blend on high for about 1 minute or until the sauce is smooth. Pour in lime juice and blend.

*("Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd/by nightshade..." Ode on Melancholy. John Keats)

Go, Cougars!

Briton loves college football. In 1984 he saved all the newspaper articles about the Cougars in a scrapbook. That was the year they won the National Championship. He was ten years old. In his words, "It was the best year of my life."

It didn't take much arm-twisting, then, for Briton to jump in on a group deal for tickets to the recent BYU vs. Washington football game. We made a weekend of it. On Friday, Sydney and I picked up Briton from the Dupont campus. Then we moseyed on up to Whidbey Island to see Keriann and Tom.

Yummy pancakes and delicious conversation.

On Saturday we dressed in our navy blue and offered our oblations. The game was extremely exciting; we didn't think to take a pic until it was over. BYU 28, WA 27. Tight. Even though I am not nearly as faithful a fan as Briton (I mean, come on, who really knows all the words to the Cougar Fight Song?) I hope BYU comes and plays in the Northwest again. When they do, we plan on being there.

Zoo

The Frog Prince and the Princess

Gosh. We had a really enjoyable time at the zoo this past week. The weather was perfect. We saw some stuff we'd never seen before: the Frog Exhibit and the animal sculpture garden ... and riding on the zoo train for the first time ... and .... and ... (gleeful giggle) ... the baby elephant. Samudra was born August 23 at 3:56 p.m. He weighed 286 pounds. We saw him 25 days later. He weighed about 360 pounds. He seemed very small for such a hefty number and was so, so, so, so cute. You can see better pictures here.

Signing Samudra's Baby Book.

Piles

My mom says that you can always find me if you follow the “piles”. It’s true. Fly Lady, the cleaning guru, calls them “hot spots” - so you'll put them out, I guess. I prefer the term “piles” because it offers a sense of permanence. Piles are meant to stay. The beauty of becoming The Wisdom is that now the scope of my piles has expanded to not just my personal project piles but also to anything that goes into running the house. Here are some of my more elegant piles:

THE LAUNDRY PILE
(and yes, those are whites mixed with the colors. So?)

This laundry pile is particularly impressive thanks to the Fancy Latin Name of Gastrointestinal Virus that has hit our house full force. Talmage has thrown up multiple times all over his bedspread, sheets, carpet, etc. And then there’s the diarrhea. I shan't expound due the family friendly nature of this site. Let’s just say that Talmage and Sydney aren’t the only ones who should have been wearing a diaper this past week.

THE "CRAFT TABLE" PILE(S):

It takes an experienced pile-er to achieve this look.

THE "NEEDS A HOME" PILE

The top of this bookshelf is the designated place for things that need to be returned to their rightful owners: like Jaxon's Batman underwear.

"Bring Out Yer Dead!"

Yesterday we went to a U-Pick farm to scavenge the tail-end of Peach Season. While we were there, the owner let us wander around the barn. Woo-eee! They had pigs. Lots of pigs. Luckily, I was holding Sydney in a blanket, which corner of blanket I immediately requisitioned for a face mask. Sydney and Talmage did not complain about the stench - which makes me wonder about children's olefactorial development. I, personally, wanted to keel over dead. And, as it turns out, I wasn't alone in that sentiment.

Besides the pigs (including a sow with cute, cute, cute piglets), we saw lots of chickens and rabbits. I should also mention that this barn (and the farm in general) was filthy. I get that it would be tricky to keep pig cages clean. But the chicken and rabbit pens? I mean, they were GROSS. In one cage, the newly hatched chicks were huddled under the heat lamp. Who can resist baby chicks? We peered in for a closer look. That's when I noticed one of the baby chicks was dead. It, too, was directly under the heat lamp - so all the other chicks were standing on top of it. Sadness. We turned to leave and that's when I noticed another chicken, an older one, in the dark corner by the doorway. Also dead.

We passed the owner on the way out and I casually mentioned the two dead chickens. Her reply? "Oh! I haven't gotten to my morning chores yet."

Blogstalking Ethics

Big Moment. Deep Breath. Inhale. Exhale. It's going to be okay.

Last night I deleted a blog from My Favorites. I'd never met the person who authors it. It's not a public blog like "Pioneer Woman" or "Stuff White People Like". It's just her musings about life and pictures of her family and friends. Written for her family and friends (even though she feels like my best friend ....not really, Heidi ... she doesn't know me from beans). She is insightful and artistic. It was fun to read. But now, a year or so later, I started feeling weird that I cared so much about what she would post. There was definitely an addictive element there, too. I mean, 24 hours later I'm shaking because I want to see what she posted today and I'm not letting myself do it. That's so sad. Shouldn't I be doing something more productive during naptime ... uh ... like mowing the lawn ... instead of blogging?

How 'bout you guys? Is there a "personal" blog out there you check on a regular basis that belongs to someone you've never met? .... Ahhhhhhh! Wait!!! Is it this blog??!?!?

Disclaimer: But if it is this blog ... be ware ... I've got Google Analytics!!!! It can tell me what you eat for breakfast. Waa-hahhahahahahaha!

Cantaloupe Caper and Garden Report

The First Prize Cantaloupes
(Chances of winning are based on number of entries received)

Number of contestants: One. And, so, okay ... you can palm them. So? This isn't the State Fair. And they are bigger and more edible than the rotting ping-pong balls I produced last year. Baby steps. Baby steps.

Not shown is the one I cut open early "just to see" if it was ripe yet. It wasn't. I felt like the greedy, and so disappointed, farmer who killed his golden-egg-laying goose, thinking he could collect the golden eggs all at once. In truth, I had PTSD from last year's cantaloupes. I was afraid they were going to rot if I left them on the vine too long.

Successful crops this year:
Yellow and green zuchinni
Tomatoes
Hot peppers
Golden raspberries
Peas
Lettuce

Died on the vine/sparse pickins':
cucumbers
green beans
herbs
carrots
watermelon
green peppers

Ignored them until it was too late:
radishes
rhubarb (apparently they don't do well with 100% neglect)
cabbage

Still going strong:
pumpkin (uh ... one pumpkin, that is).

If you could plant any one fruit tree, what would you plant?

Lego My Eggo...

This is a digger

...and other activities on a lazy afternoon. We ate waffles for dinner; standard Sunday fare. Talmage is "playing" the piano on his own ac"cord" (heh heh). He has the Technic on the harpsicord setting and is hitting the low G over and over as he sings the ABC Song. On another musical note, we attended ward choir practice. Like Talmage, I'm also working on hitting the right notes.

Solid Mess

Solid Fun.

Second Cousins

Being geographically distanced from family means that "hanging out" won't be an option for T&S and their cousins on a regular basis. This pangs my soul.

Thankfully, that pang was assuaged somewhat when Cousin Dave and Jo moved down the street with their brood. You can read about Isaac's advent here . Now, to convince the lot of you to also move down the street. Come on, Region 10!

The Obligatory "Couch" Photo Shoot:
"Grab your younger sibling's arm and don't look at the camera."

(they listen so well)

Loving Isaac

TA-DA!

Our Yard:

A) Before:


A) AFTER:
B) Before:
B) AFTER:

C) Before:



C) Before again... but after the Round-up


C) AFTER:


D) Before:

D) AFTER (three trips to Lowe's in the same day):


E) Before
E(ver) AFTER!

Oregon State Fair

This year was our "practice" trip to the State Fair. It was so fun, and we appropriated so much free stuff, that we're thinking the Fair will become an annual tradition. We missed the "Balance the Potato on Your Head" contest. But we did see all manner of farm animals, including a goataroo: a strange, new mix of goat and one certain marsupial:

Where in the world are you?

I've been coveting site map meters for awhile. Thanks to Banna's bloglink I finally figured out how to download one. I was surprised to see a dot in Nicaragua. Who do we know in Nicaragua? ... Spooky. I realize the internet isn't the place for privacy, but the map makes me sorta wonder about some stuff. Except for the dot in Glen Allen, Virgina. I know who you are. Now that the map meter is up, though, wouldn't it be great to see the map meter covered in red dots? A digital passport almost with exotic stamps. So if you are some place exciting in the next little while, if you could log on to this blog and give us a red dot, that'd be right neighborly of you.

Botulism in a Bottle

There's something about the pressure canner that scares me. It probably is related to heating glass jars in a 240 degree, pressurized receptacle. If that thing blows, you're dead. But say it doesn't blow. Say you do get these beautiful jars of green beans. You're still in danger. Those innocent looking green bean may not be so innocent. If you happen to ingest an invisible toxin, then wham! You're dead. It all just seems too risky. Growing up, my mom always canned stuff. But pressure cooking? No way.

The Doomsday Divas and Dudes (a Food Storage and Emergency Prep group) decided to face our collective fear of pressure cooking. Carrie, one of my heroes, nonchalantly demonstrated the process. Admittedly, my fear of pressure cooking was not based on ever having seen it done until this night. Turns out, the whole process is straight-forward. However, I was still scared to try it on my own. The next day when I was making another batch of beans, I made two panicked phone calls to Carrie before the pressure cooker ever left "0" psi (solution to problem #2: screw the lid on tight to "closed"). The beans look okay. No. They look beautiful! I'm still nervous to eat them, though. And my respect for the pressure canner remains intact.

Now that that is all said, I must say there is something supremely satisfying about seeing rows and rows of fruits and veggies you've preserved yourself. I feel like it ties me to generations past, not to mention what it does for feelings of self-reliance. Not that I'm going to start making my own clothes or anything extreme like that ... but ... hmm ... a small sheep in the backyard would be quite picturesque ...

If your friend gives you a ride in his airplane ...

... then he'll probably want some blackberry jam to go with it*.

Such was the arrangement Grandpa K and his friend Mike made. They'd fly from Utah to Oregon in Mike's homemade plane as long as Mike could pick blackberries while he was here. The only stipulation was the blackberries had to be free from wild bushes and they wanted the novelty of walking home from the local airport. Not only were both objectives accomplished within an hour, but we also upped the ante on the freebie scale by stopping at Costco on the way home for a lunch of samples.

What a wonderful and productive two days with grandpa and Mike! We visited a couple U-pick farms to supplement the roadside blackberry supply. Grandpa also picked the last two pints of available blueberries in all of Oregon for grandma. Together they plucked 10.2 pounds of green beans . Continuing the harvesting theme: at home they also graciously accepted the backyard apple-picking assignment. They picked 10.2 tons of apples which yielded 7 jars of applesauce. Grandpa fixed the drainage problem of the bathroom stink, so it doesn't. Mike helped hold fussy babies. Amidst all this, good stories and conversation swapped back and forth.

We hope to see Mike again next blackberry season (or sooner!). And grandpa? Talmage woke up the next morning wondering, "Where'd grandpa go?" My sentiments, exactly. It came and went way more quickly than we wished. Thanks for the fly-by. And Mike, if you read this, "bon appetite!"
(*"If You Give a Moose a Muffin" by Laura Numeroff).