1000th post

Seriously, I'm at 1000. I should have dressed up to blog today.

In honor of 1000 posts of meaningless drivel (except for that one week before Christmas 2009 when I blogged daily my thoughts about the Nativity), I'm going to do a ten things list.

Ten things for no reason, about nothing in particular

1. I saw a craft idea for a family motto board. The craft itself is cute, but I cannot take the family motto idea seriously. I can't. My children wouldn't either. We all would ignore it and go on with our lives in whatever way we chose to live it, and when we got bored, we'd make fun of it and change the words around to mean stupid things. If I were forced at gunpoint to come up with a family motto, I think I would have to go with "Aspirate." Maybe I'll make a family motto board with that on it just for fun.  Heehee, I just thought of something: I hate those signs that say "Live, Laugh, Love" (no apology from me if you have one. I don't hate each individual idea, nor the collection of all three, nor any two in combination, I just find the idea of having it displayed anywhere ridiculous because it isn't going to make anyone--namely me--do any of them more often or better) but something like "Aspirate, Assimilate, Amalgamate" I could endure and even find amusing. Any other suggestions for a more sarcastic take on the "Live Laugh Love" phenomenon?
2. My stomach is insisting on being fed cookies.
3. Several children went to *Mollica Merica without me. (Yay!)
4. For today being a "closed" day at the office, I have been busy answering phone calls. (and by "busy answering phone calls" I mean that I have made three appointments and fielded two other calls of varying natures)
5. Kate brought home a bag of stale candy corn pumpkins. Happy Hallow-mas.
6. I have more cookies to bake, but the cardamom bread is done and in the freezer (don't touch, or you will suffer such pain as will drive you to chew your own eyes out)
7. EJ is ruthless at Settlers of Catan.
8. Killer Bunnies is the next family game on our list of things to do while Kate is home.
9. Stomach is still growling.
10. I really should get back on the exercise bike and finish watching "Grimm."


* Mall of America

Sing the praises of pants!

I'd offer points for people who could give me the reference for my post title, but I don't think any of you would get it without googling it.

Here, I'll link to it.

Singing the praises of pants

I particularly like the line near the end: "Dolphins, one of the smartest mammals on earth. Do they wear pants? No, but they wish they did, that's how smart they are."

Then there's another episode of MST3K where Pearl and Observer are in Roman times and they want to have a toga party, but the Romans don't get it. So Pearl comes up with the idea to have a pants party and they all dance around with pants pinned to their togas yelling "Pants party pants party!" but I can't find a clip of it on youtube so you'll just have to imagine it.

SO on to pants.

Pants.

Pajama pants.

Kate made some yesterday. First day home, and she's raiding my fabric stash. She found some fabric with planets on it but there wasn't enough to make both legs of pajama pants, so I got out some waterfall fabric and suggested she make some out of that. She wanted the planets so badly though that she ended up making this:

Yes, they are awesome pants, and there does not exist another pair like it in the WHOLE ENTIRE universe.

Well, Paul saw those pants of Katie's and got it into his head that he wanted to give a pair of pants like Katie's as a white elephant gift for the seminary gift exchange. So Kate and Paul went on an ugly fabric hunt in the house.

And we found the perfect combination of fabrics.  And they sewed them up--it took less than an hour from start to finish.

Paul wears the Disney Princess fabric before cutting it out

Laying the fabric out before cutting it

I give you the most coveted pair of long shorts (because there wasn't enough of one of the fabrics to make even a whole leg) in our family:

The Star Wars/Disney Princesses pajama pants, modeled by Paul.

When the pants were opened up for the gift exchange, Paul and Katie received a round of applause and the recipient of the gift quickly stuffed the pants down her shirt so no one would steal them from her. She is very happy with the present. I hope to see pictures of her wearing them soon.

And just because these pants are so marvelous, Paul decided he wanted a pair for himself. He chose a pink and green apple flannel and a bluey sort of outer-spacey flannel and sewed a pair of pants for himself. Sadly I did not get a picture. But maybe I will later. He wore his new pants with an argyle sweater and his purple and yellow knitted *lugies from his grandmother to seminary and school. He is a walking hipster fashion statement.

I love that my kids have the same fashion sense as I have. Mom and Jen, remember the ugly nightgowns we sewed? I wish I still had mine.


*not spit wads or mucousy phlegm. My mom calls hand-knitted slippers with a pom pom "lugies." We grew up using that word (and we did not pronounce it "loogie." We say it with a more relaxed u sound--like saying "lookie" with a 'g' sound instead of the 'k'.)

Chicken Run

We made a run for the MN/SD border this weekend. My office had their annual Christmas party this Friday and I wanted to be there. We brought Hayley and Matt along and they babysat the boss's kids while we went off and partied at Lunker's in Watertown.

Bernice, Martha, Mavis, Gladys, Hazel, and Concepcion roosting on a wagon in the barn

We decided to make a weekend of the trip and are staying with Mike and Jen at their chicken hotel. I love their chickens! Hayley and Matt liked them too.

I don't have a picture of Hayley holding a chicken (well, I do on my phone, but Matt is using my phone to play Fruit Ninja so I can't access the picture at the moment), but I have one of Matt. Hayley took to chicken holding quite easily, but Matt needs a little practice. He's not afraid of the chickens, but he is a little flustered when the birds get to squawking.

Matt and Bernice get to know each other.

I like hanging out with the chickens and much as I hate to brag, I'm pretty good at catching them and holding them so they don't freak out. Jim wouldn't touch the chickens. Chicken!

Gladys and I having a cluck session

Matt and an elk head

Matt was fascinated by a recent kill of Mike's. He insisted I take a picture of the elk head so I made him stand under it.

The other favorite pastime at Uncle Mike's is cat-tormenting.  Hayley and Matt were so excited because they finally caught a glimpse of the legendary Lilly, who they had heard about, but never seen, much less petted. They cornered Lilly and spent several minutes petting her, much to Lilly's dislike, which she made plain by growls and hisses, and which made Matt and Hayley laugh and lavish even more attention on her.

Lilly and Sadie on a shelf, and Hayley and Matt paying their oblations to their feline overlords.

I want chickens.

Larry's not white; Larry's clear.

17 points if you can tell me where the post title came from. -2 points if you googled it to get the answer.

Just because I'm about to complain does not mean that I want consolation. First of all, you don't know what I'm going to complain about yet, and second of all, I'm complaining in more of a I-wanna-blog-about-something-but-this-is-all-I-came-up-with kind of way.

I'm going to complain about a facial feature. Because I once poked fun at myself in a very early blog post and people thought I was either depressed or they didn't like the tone I used to do it, I'm going to say early on that if you think I am hating on myself, keep your comments to yourself. Laugh at me if you will, complain about things you find annoying about your own physical appearance, etc, but I'll thank you not to assume that I need therapy and/or hugs. (I might need therapy, but not about my personal appearance)(as for the hugs, unless you're Jim or unless you have issued forth from my body, you're going to make me nervous and I'll want to run away).

Eyebrows.

My eyebrows are clear. I have them, make no mistake about that, but no one can see them. Having clear eyebrows makes my forehead look really huge.

So I try to draw eyebrows onto my face. I'm really good at penciling the right one, but I usually end up looking like I'd had a three year old do the left one. It never matches the right one, I draw it on too thick at the outer edge, and my efforts to erase it leave me looking like I've been hit by a tennis ball that had brown shoe polish on it. You would think I could draw something as simple as an eyebrow, but you would be wrong.

It's true that I spent a lot of time during my elementary school years drawing, but I only ever practiced drawing princesses and high-heeled shoes (and princesses wearing high-heeled shoes), never life-sized eyebrows. So my drawing skills, such as they are, are completely useless.

The only theory that explains my underwhelming eyebrows is that sometime in the past I must have said, "I never want to have to draw my eyebrows on" and the hard-of-hearing genie in a bottle who is supposed to grant all of my wishes heard, "I forever want to have to draw my eyebrows on." Stupid deaf genie.

PS On the other hand, I'm glad I have clear arm hair. But I also have one hair on my arm that has the ability to grow realllllly long. I have refrained from cutting it just to see how long it will get.

The Jim I didn't know existed

It used to be that my husband could be taken at face value. What he thought, he said. And what he was going to do, he mentioned. 

Or so I thought.

He has carefully crafted this deception over the course of 23 years. He acted like he couldn't wait to give me presents that he had bought so he made me receive them early. He would let things slip so that I would guess surprises.  He pretended that he wasn't spontaneous and plan and plan and get my input on every detail for upcoming events. 

But today, I have learned it was all a lie.

He surprised me by bringing donuts to seminary for the whole class in honor of my birthday.
And then when I went out to my van, he had left a bouquet of flowers on the driver's seat.
And he knew that some ladies were going to come over and bring me lunch, and KEPT IT A SECRET.

I had no idea.

I'll never trust him again!  But in a good way.

Sudden realization

I never posted a sampling of Paul's senior pictures.

Would you care to see a few? Jen took these pictures WA-A-A-A-AY back in July when it was close to a million degrees outside. We were uncomfortably hot during the photo session, Paul most of all, because in a couple pictures I made him wear his heavy wool letter jacket.

But now that is all a distant and faint memory, hardly worth recalling.

For years, I've been worried about Paul's senior pictures. Paul has been notoriously difficult to photograph in a posed state. He has always looked stiff and unnatural and has strange looks on his face. But I should not have worried. He seems to have come to grips with photographic technology and can manage a handsome smile in the face of the lens. 

And now,

pictures of Paul.

My favorite. He's for reals smiling.

Mil(l)estone

Hey, I was just looking at my blog overview and noticed that I am closing in on 1000 posts. I'd better make my mille post a special one (or not).

I would post pictures from last night's Honor Band concert, but Matt sits in the back of the band, is very short, and sits behind a very tall girl. So no pictures of him in the band. Mr H, one of the directors, mentioned that this is the 5th year of Honor Band, and I thought to myself that there has been an Evans in the Honor Band every year. First Paul, then Hayley, now Matt. I'll be a little sad when there is no Evans in the Honor Band.

Matt has another concert tonight for his regular band. I'll try to get a picture of him fiddling with his trombone.

Hayley has a pep band event, which I am not going to because I am going to the band concert. I probably wouldn't go to the pep band events anyway. And no, that does not make me a parent who does not care. It does make me a parent who does not care about the high school hockey team though.

Have a good evening and try not to watch the movie "When in Rome." It is very stupid, except when it tries to be really really stupid by having a cameo by Pedro from Napolean Dynamite, and then it is very funny. But that only lasts a few seconds. Aside from that, the movie is not worth it, even if someone pays you to see it.

I promise I'm NOT complaining

It's just past 6 a.m. on a Saturday...and I've been awake for an hour.

On a Saturday.

Younger me would have said, "THIS IS SO NOT FAIR!!!"

Mid-40s me says, "Meh, I had my sleep. I'm fine."  Besides, it's kind of fun to be up when no one else is. I can do what I want without worrying that I'm getting in the way or hovering or whatever.

Yesterday was a busy day at work. I'm still not quite used to a desk job (even though the desk is in my sewing room) (and keep in mind the headline of this post). There are phone calls to be made and software program fields to be filled with data.

Wednesday and Friday, I actually said to my husband, "I'm really busy at work." And I meant it. I really haven't ever experienced this before: sitting at my desk, doing something that needs to be done, and then suddenly I realize that two hours have passed while I've been sitting there, my brain buzzing along.

I know many of you have and can say, Yes, I know all about that, my goodness you are experiencing this for the first time? really? You spoiled person.

I told Jim that for 20+ years, my main occupation has been making sure the kids were safe and healthy and educated. It involved a lot of "Don't do this" "Go do that" and "Are you listening?"  It also involved a lot of eye rolling and hugs. My new job is very different. No hugs. (Are you listening, boss? I demand more on-the-job hugs)

But there is still a lot of eye-rolling. Fortunately I have practiced that skill and I feel confident in my ability to use it when necessary.

Like when I have to play guessing games with insurance companies. "Is $900 within your UCR allowable? $850? $875? etc...  Eye-rolling opportunity a-plenty.

Should the title of this post be "Fallen Arches" or "Arch Angel?"

Every so often, I'll drive by a chain fast food venue while hungry, and an argument will break out.

Me: Mmm, fast food! I wanna stop and get some.

Other Me: I don't.

Me: But the food is so yummy!

Other Me: It is not! The last ten times (at least!) we've stopped there have been incredibly disappointing, remember? We pulled out of the parking lot all the while kicking ourselves for having gone there because the food was gross.  We wasted our money buying it.

Me isn't listening: Mmmm, french fries! With ketchup!  Come on, you know you love them.

Other Me: Maybe the first three fries. After that, it's like eating cold, salty glue sticks.

Me: How about the hamburgers then. You love a good hamburger!

Other Me: Yes I do, but fast food hamburgers are not good hamburgers.

Me: Soft bun, meat, chopped onions, ketchup--it's all there!

Other Me: All there in the most depressing arrangement ever.  The sandwiches always come out squished, and the chopped onions are plopped in one square centimeter of the patty so that you get them all in one bite. Plus, the onions are not crunchy.

Me: Milkshake! I want a milkshake! You can't argue that a milkshake isn't tasty. And they can hardly screw that up.

Other Me: But milkshakes make you thirsty. I don't want to be MORE thirsty going out of a food joint than going in.

Me: Fine. Then get a salad, you boring old person.

Other Me: Shut up and the only thing grosser than a fast food hamburger is a fast food salad.

Me: What is wrong with their salads? You've eaten plenty of them.

Other Me: The lettuce for one thing. We always find brown leaves, wilted leaves, questionable leaves, and gooey leaves in fast food salad. And I always feel guilty picking out the two little tomatoes and the two slices of seedy cucumber. If I make my own, I use the right kind of cuke and I don't waste money on tomatoes (which are really apples of the devil).

Then Me throws a punch, and then Other Me pulls hair and pretty soon there are bruises and bloody noses and one of us is crying and the other one is pouting, and I can never tell who won the fight.