happy halloween

For Halloween this year, we dressed the kid up as a bony, naked space alien with transparent, waxy, sagging skin, and large black eye sockets. For added gore, we smeared him with blood and attached a fleshy grey feeding apparatus to the center of his stomach so it could trail around behind him.
Result: He's by far the scariest kid on the block. I will definitely feed him him candy as I don't want to risk him pulling any tricks.

(As a visual aid I have posted an image from Google. I also saw some freaky 3D ultrasound images of fetuses at 17 weeks yawning and making other scary faces, but those images were simply too frightening to post, Halloween or not. If you think you're up for a fright, click here.)

******************* UPDATE ************************

I thought I would add PROOF that my kid is the scariest on the block. Here's Aidan, from three doors down. He's a punk rocker and giving me his most intense, punk-rocker face. Yet you want to just KISS him. That's not scary. Good try, Aidan. But you just turned out adorable instead.

Insulating Sir Wilbur's Castle

It's been gorgeous during the day, but at night the temperature has been dropping significantly. I'd started to wonder how this was affecting my little, mostly nocturnal friend. He doesn't have much fur. I'd made him a little sweatshirt pouch to hide in, but that seemed to result in him never leaving the pouch. He hides all day, regardless, just because he likes dark places, but I'd noticed that I hadn't been hearing him at night, whereas normally he wakes me up at least a few times with his shenanigans.

THEN the other morning I got up to check on Wilbur and his little feet were cold! Even though he was curled up in the pouch! (Collectively now, "aaaaaawwww! Do something!!") So yes, I had to take action.

He now has his very own electric blanket wrapped around his cage. I turn it on the lowest setting at night, and it's just enough to take the chill out of the walls of the cage without really adding heat to the interior. He likes it lots. There's been PLENTY of racket the last couple nights.

Destruction!

Are you looking for a caption? An explanation?

Can't a girl just tear out some walls when she feels like it?

garden up close

a b

c d

e f

g h

i j

k l

just to clarify...

a. cucumber

b. cherry tomatoes (most are still green)

c. corn

d. mixed greens

e. tomatillos

f. arugula

g. some baby lettuce

h. don't know, but we eat the purple leaves in our salads

i. can't remember

j. bell pepper (he's also had other peppers, but I don't have pictures)

k. watermelon

l. squash

There are rows of other things that just look like more greens to me, so I didn't take pictures of all of it. For the record though, there are radishes, kale, onions, carrots, garlic and many others things all in there. Last season I kept track of what was what. This season he blew me away with the amount he planted and I gave up.

Disclaimer: No doubt Sean's going to find this post entirely inadequate; left up to him, a closer examination of his garden would have 5 times the photos I have here and entire essays (replete with charts and graphs) on the origins of the seeds, cultivation techniques, and expected produce outcomes. Left up to Sean, a closer examination of his garden would also likely never be shared because he probably won't ever have the time he requires to do the post justice. I figure a little something is better than nothing. But under no circumstances should viewers consider this to be anything other than a very cursory glance at his extensive and extravagant farm.

From Tears to Triumph

After a sleepless night of listening to the wind veritably demolish our brand new gutters with tree branches, I marched off to Lowes this morning with bloodshot eyes, trembling nerves, and nothing short of "DEATH TO THE BRANCHES" screaming in my head.

On his last visit, my dad had suggested that maybe one of the branches was too close to the second story gutter, and that it would scratch it in the wind. Little did we know (until last night) that the wind could lift and drop the branch INTO the gutter, and then as the branch attempted to spring back into place, it would streeeeetch out the key element of our rainwater harvesting system, and then eventually free itself, resulting in a loud THUD as the gutter snapped back to its original form.

With every thud I reached new levels of pained insanity I never dreamed could be caused by gutters. One might suggest that I'm a little too attached to the house/material possessions/etc. Maybe that is the case. But I tell you-- it was SICKENING to listen to the destruction and feel so helpless.

And now, sleep-deprived and yes, a little high on my recent victory over the branches, I am sharing photos. Thankfully, our other main investment into the house, new windows, made the success possible. They are double-hung and the sashes lift out, which means I could reach the branch with my newly purchased pole saw from the window.

BEFORE

AFTER

the tree I have forgiven

The squirrel* who supervised my progress from the chimney top.

*We call him Sammie. I made it our policy to call all the critters around our house Sammie, so that when visitors come over, we can say, "oh there goes Sammie" and they will think we're really one with nature and that we have given all the wildlife individual names and can distinguish one squirrel or lizard from another. (My theory is that rarely would the same guest catch us calling two different animals the same name. I am trusting that any Austinites reading this will not tell other Austinites whom we have yet to impress. Please give us a fair chance to seem cool).

Now on to the projects I was SUPPOSED to be doing today...

garden from a distance

Thanks to some recent rain, the fall garden is coming along nicely. The weeds are doing even better.
Sean's practically skipping as he heads out to the garden each evening to harvest our salad. He's downright gleeful about it (--he probably wouldn't want me saying that. But it's really heartwarming to watch, so I wanted to share it with y'all). Honestly, he's entitled to as much giddiness as his little heart can handle. That is some HARD earned [and tasty] lettuce.
I'll post more pictures of the produce itself soon. And I believe if you click on the photo above, a new window will open with the photo full-size, so you can see things better.

Celebrating Births!

Sean had a birthday this year! He tends to insist on one...
We hit about mid to late June and he starts getting fussy if we don't take time to celebrate him. Went to his parents' house this summer around that time, so here he is opening presents.

My gifts to him were A) FINALLY finishing his chair (those of you in Atlanta can stop berating me)... and B) a hookah pipe. I ordered the prettiest pipe I could find and then made the case at home. I did have slight moral issues with potentially giving my husband cancer for his birthday, but I know Sean pretty well. He's yet to prove wrong my theory that if you give him any toy that requires effort to set up before playing with it, that toy is only engaged maybe once per year. I'd have struggled more with a request for a handheld pipe or cigars.

A note on the chair: The cushions that fit it need to be reupholstered. But I have to wait to do that until we figure out what shades of color our living room is going to be. (In other words, you will probably be hearing next June that I gave him the same chair again).

Sean's mom's birthday is the 10th of October; they came down to Austin to celebrate it....... by taking us out to eat twice, bringing a potato dish for Wilbur, showering the future grandchild with gifts, and bringing me a bag of goodies for MY birthday. Conclusion: The baby, Wilbur, and I all agree that Sean's mom's birthday should be celebrated monthly.

Yours truly turned 28 on the 15th, which was a Wednesday. This happens to be the day that I go to a small group/Bible study thing with a bunch of great girls, so Sean was off the hook (temporarily). I was well pampered by my friends-- Mychel cooked dinner, they harmoniously belted out Happy Birthday, and we devoured some very fine cupcakes that Stacey found at a place called Polkadots (I think?). Not to belittle the Bible part of the evening, but the food alone made it a pretty divine experience. Hooray for such sweet friends!

Sean took me to North for dinner later that week, which was yummy. He also added his own unique twist to my stack of wonderful gifts and the outpouring of Lowes gift cards (which will be used up a in a heartbeat based on how much there is to do around here!). He obliged my request for him to blog, and he did it 100% Sean-style. You can find the link to his blog (which shadows this one) in the sidebar on the left. I enjoyed it immensely.

My parents and younger sister, Janell, came down to visit last weekend in honor of my birthday, and like usual, they were tremendously helpful. We repaired two hose bibs, plugged the front yard with grass, investigated some duct work that needs to be re-routed, and ALMOST put more holes in the wall, but discovered a gas pipe and vent, which temporarily thwarted that plan. I need to devote an entire post to listing things they've done. They're incredible. Every time they visit they bring this unbelievable renovating momentum that'd put all those DIY television shows to shame.

I saved the best births for last...

Moving on to two very recent births that are FAR more exciting to celebrate than all the ones above... We had friends in Atlanta and Austin that shared the same due date and each delivered (100% naturally!) absolutely beautiful babies with full heads of dark hair! We're so excited for both families. They've been the most impacting births for Sean and I, simply because it's such an imminent reality for us now, too.

First came this little princess, Elsa Marie, born on September 7 to our awesome friends Jarrett and Christi in Atlanta. ALL the pictures I've seen of her are totally precious-- every time I see a new photo I get that much more adamant about wanting a baby girl. Unfortunately, my two friends who've had girls have had incredibly cute/pretty ones and have thereby set the bar really high (well out of reach for anything Sean and I could produce!) -- but I accept that fact and I still want one!! Can you blame me?? Look at her!

And THEN September 12 brought this little man to a house just down the street from us-- much to our delight! It's awesome enough to have Jessica and Aaron so close by, just because they're great to hang out with-- and then they go and have Aidan Alan, who's nothing short of enchanting. Not only does he have the coolest hair-do in the world (think electrocuted), he's so alert and independent! He's been sleeping a straight 7-8 hours every night for two weeks already-- and lately it's more like 10. Couple that with super-efficient feeding and the cutest little facial expressions ever, and you definitely have a Prince Charming! We're all in love.

Obviously there's no topping the baby pictures. Even Wilbur stories and photos can't beat those.

(The maternal side of me is going to feel guilty later and post more pictures of Wilbur anyway. I can already tell. There's a little voice in my head defending Wilbur... "He's cute too! He has an electrocuted-style hair-do, too!")

Public Apology.

Alright, so my last post has warranted me new titles such as "homophobic" and "sexist" due to comments about color schemes and clothing styles that I narrow-mindedly deemed appropriate and inappropriate based on gender. (I love my father-in-law. Who told him I was blogging??? This is going to be the end of me!)

Undoubtedly, my "traditionalism" dominated the last post, despite my attempts to express frustration with the deeply engrained stereotypes that are engendered (ha! get it?) by infant clothing. To be clear, what I meant to say, was that when I find a onesie embroidered with a remote control and beer, my mental image looked like THIS:

... and I would definitely dress my child in it, boy or girl, matching booties and hairbows, included. The child will then go frolic in the backyard, playing with non-Barbie dolls in a pastel and mauve-tone fort with accents of camouflage in the draperies.

Boots or Booties?

If it's a girl, BOTH. Which is one of the reasons why having a girl would be nice. She could wear pretty things sometimes and overalls and cowgirl boots other times. And once she has enough hair to look like a girl, she's not limited by any color scheme. Boys are significantly more limited, though, both in terms of colors and traditionally acceptable clothing. Throw in the factor of ME, and matters only get worse because I only like limited kinds of boy clothes. Not real crazy about a lot of the stuff that gets slapped on boy clothing. I guess because the design of the clothes itself is so limited (compared to all the different style dresses and outfits for girls), designers feel the need to put things ON the outfits... like race cars and bulldozers and sports balls. I think it's silly to impose stereotypical grown-man interests on an infant who, given his choice, would be far more interested in a pacifier than a lawn mower. One of these days I'm going to see a onesie embroidered with a remote control and bottle of beer.

Our mothers have brought us our old baby blankets and a few outfits they saved. It was fun to see all Sean's infant stuff, his last surviving "blankie," the duckie shower curtain that infuriated him because he'd wanted G.I.Joe, etc. I hung the stuff out on the line just to take pictures; this caused one of those subtle freak-out moments-- it was so ODD to hang baby clothes and blankets up. Really bizarre to think that come April, baby things will be just as frequently handled and cleaned as adult things. This was a tangible taste of what is to become everyday reality in just 24 weeks. Scary, scary thought.

My mom's been working on making the baby its OWN blanket. She probably thinks she's just being grandmotherly, but Sean and I see it as a wise move for other reasons. To be frank, sometimes we're just not so good at sharing. Those baby blankets in the picture above are OURS. Not the kid's.

Sean's maternal grandmother also made a blanket for the baby. So in the end, the kid will have two of his own; this is a good, good thing. Good job, Grandmas!

I've now finished the 16th week. If we had an ultrasound this week, we could tell if it were boots, booties, or both. It's funny for something to be knowable, but not known. [Shouldn't I just be able to google it???] The baby's the size of an avocado, and about to hit a growth spurt, doubling its weight in the next few weeks. It's quickly gaining on Wilbur.

(Side note: Wilbur is sensitive about his size and prefers to be thought of as petite; this does not conflict, in his mind, with his Hedgehog of Fury facade. He's complicated. To keep him happy, I promised I'd inform folks that the avocado is especially small for an avocado. Only then was he willing to pose next to the piece of fruit for one iota of a second).

Triumph of the Inner Hippie Child

Returning from a vacation is right up there with going to the dentist. Same sense of "Yeeessss, I knoooow. I'm an adult. This is something I have to do." Meanwhile, your inner hippie child is throwing a temper tantrum, raging against the concept of schedules and society's imposition of drastic injustices upon our personal freedom. You want to cry, scream, run away-- ANYTHING to avoid facing whatever lies back in Normal Life at Home. Even if Normal Life is nothing to complain about. It's just the simple fact that THAT is normal and THIS is vacation, and THIS is therefore, much better.

At some point in our marriage, Sean and I stumbled upon the reality that we no longer have to wrestle silently with the screaming hippie child we each have inside. As it turns out, our inner hippie children can have a completely grown-up sounding conversation in calm adult voices. Sounds a lot like this:

Me, sounding cool and casual: "Ugh. Really too bad we have to drive home today."

Sean, relieved to hear my thoughts match his: "YEAH. I really dread [such and such]."

Me, sounding reflective, evaluative: "Yeah. It was just so nice to not have to think about [such and such] that whole time. Love to get away from doing the same old thing."

Sean, also in an adult, evaluative tone: "And we got so much rest. It was such a good break."

***Insert pause in order to allow mutual, silent reflection on precisely how much we loved that vacation. This ensures both parties are on the same page for Part Two of the conversation.***

Me, innocently providing a helpful suggestion: "When's our next escape? We need something to look forward to."

Sean, after thinking, sounds victimized and glum: "I guess not until [name holiday]."

Me, offering an especially rational sounding solution: "Oh dear. That's forever away. I know you have a lot to do, but maybe we can go somewhere this coming weekend. Just to get away."

Sean, sounding equally grown-up and practical: "I think I can make that work. That sounds like a good idea."

And THAT is how the inner hippie children defeat societal voices of reason time and time again. As a rule, one's next vacation is best planned during the quiet pity party that accompanies the conclusion of one's current vacation. While not our finest example of this phenomena, it does explain how we ended up running away to Colorado Bend State Park the weekend after our road trip to the Missouri Ozarks.

Society's Most Wanted Fugitive:

Camp Cook [gourmet chef, really. Those were the best burritos EVER]:

River sitting. Conveniently, a river is the perfect place to drool over the latest issue of Gourmet magazine-- resulting slobber on your shirt or chair can be blamed on splashing water:
My Happy Foot:

Okay, with this post, I think I've caught us up on all our recent travels. Next stop: Atlanta, November 10-15.

Family Reunion According to Me

Shortly after the Portland expedition, Darla decided she hadn't gotten enough of us. Missing us terribly, her heart aching as she suffered through countless nights of longing tears, she stumbled upon a clever solution and single-handedly arranged a family reunion for late September. (She's shy about this, so if questioned, she'll likely claim my uncle instigated the whole thing). And REALLY, to tell the truth, she probably didn't arrange it all completely by herself. I expect my brother had been daydreaming for months (if not years) about spending hours in a compact vehicle with Sean and I, so it's likely he collaborated with her in planning the event in the Missouri Ozarks.

My siblings' scheming proved to be a great success (although the credit really must to go Sean and I... being the true impetus behind their elaborate plans). All my mom's immediate family and their children made it. Last time we had that whole crowd together was about 15 years ago, so we were due for another clan snapshot. And it's probably been about a decade since my whole immediate family went on a vacation together. It was great to get everyone miles away from their employers, into a cabin on a lake, eating Grandma's meatballs, catching up with cousins, attempting a little wakeboarding-- and with lovely weather to boot! Couldn't have asked for a better time.

Naturally, (as if I even need to clarify this) everyone loved Wilbur.

snoozing

Wilbur firmly believes that if you hide your face, no one can see you.

15 weeks

Baby Update: Last Tuesday we went to our 14 week appointment at the birthing center, which went well. It was our second visit and much shorter than the first; not a whole lot to discuss at this stage.

All my blood work came back fine (found out my blood type is O+, which I'm so happy to finally know... my blood donating experiences have all been fiascoes so I've never found out). The midwife acted really impressed with my iron levels, and she said my blood pressure, pulse, and weight gain were all excellent. This made me quite happy and proud-- like a 10 year old acing a spelling test. I amused myself by spending the rest of the day saying, "I'm a good momma!!" ...because really, I can't take credit for any of the stuff I was being complimented on. It's like someone saying, "Good job! Your heart's beating!" What do you say to that? "Why, thank you-- I try?"
Anyway, I CAN be grateful, though, that all is going well, and I am.

Best [and weirdest] part was getting to hear the heartbeat, which this time she had no trouble finding.
Again, kumquats don't have heartbeats...
Actually, it's no longer kumquat size anyway. It's an APPLE. (Which causes me to question why I look and feel like I swallowed a cantaloupe).

Here's the Buddha belly at 15 weeks:

Not one to be left out, here's Sean at 15 weeks:
(I'd forgotten to include his 8 week photo in the earlier post, so I went back and added it.)

bathtime

Sorry, just can't handle the top post not being pictures of Wilbur.

Thought y'all would enjoy photos from his first bath. Wilbur HATES baths. He wears himself out trying to escape the raging sea of 1 inch deep water, and when I finally wrap his exhausted, drowned little body in a towel, he's so tired and relieved to be alive that he'll let you snuggle with him forever.

He's an amusing little guy.

Portlandish

In celebration of our 4th wedding anniversary, we flew to Portland for a long weekend in early September, a place we've both been wanting to visit for a long time but hadn't gotten around to. Our perfect excuse came up when my youngest sister, Darla, was placed on an assignment out there via her IT consulting job at Accenture. This meant she could stay over the weekend with us and play. Out of an obligatory sense of sibling protectionism and social justice, I did warn her about Sean's travel style in advance...

Case in point: having booked the tickets, my dear husband (who still insists that he's spontaneous) promptly compiled no fewer than 42 single-spaced, typed pages of notes on precisely what to do in Portland should we find ourselves in any possible situation in any possible part of town (namely, where we should EAT in those situations). And then, research tightly in hand, off we went into 3 days and 4 long nights of full-time gluttony.

Despite toying with one of the seven deadly sins, the trip was nothing short of a dream-- GORGEOUS weather, beautiful hiking, superb food, and excellent company (though no doubt Darla is still reeling from the rigorous 10 meals/day schedule. But she did tolerate us very well).

A few photos follow:

This, my friends, is a symbol of GREATNESS.

You Atlantans can verify this with the Palmers (they hit the same spot a week later). THE most incredible breakfast anywhere is at the Little Red Bike Cafe, kind of on the northwestish side of town. This gem is one of the many reasons I can't complain too loudly about Sean's travel style... his research often leads to pure bliss.

We actually decided, after eating the breakfast to the right, that there would be no better breakfast ANYWHERE. Darla missed this first outing, and thought we had to be exagerrating when we told her about it.

We went back Saturday morning.

She understood.

Rental car maps, being what they are, naturally lack important details like entrance/exit ramps. We therefore found ourselves (still under the influence of prosciutto and fried egg) in Washington Park. Not a bad place to end up. Having escaped the 100+ heat of Texas, the cool shade of the Hoyt Arboretum only further intoxicated Sean and I while we waited for Darla to get off work and join us.

This resulted in Sean hugging trees. Me, I just sat calmly, (still contemplating breakfast and whether or not Sean might agree to eat there for the remaining 29 meals of the weekend).

Found more natural goodness at the rose garden further down the road. It was too bright for my little camera to take a good picture of the whole vast garden, but here are a few close ups...

Across from the rose garden is the Japanese Garden, which is also very well done. I know ZERO about gardens, so take my observations with a grain of salt. Seemed to me, though, that the Japanese Garden had this subtle, understated quality; upon close scrutiny, you could tell that the landscaping and maintenance were painstaking efforts of diligence. Yet its goal seemed to be that nothing in particular would stand out. Even the water features that flowed through the whole garden were quiet and simply a part of the grander landscape. This is in stark contrast to what I picture as a typical garden, where loud, flowering plants are meant to draw your eye, the more blooms and color variety the better, and water features are also designed to be a focal point.

The zen-like quality got to Sean. He paused to jot notes. I took a picture, deciding he had been struck by deep, poetic notions that demanded immediate artistic expression.

Maybe I was still intoxicated by breakfast.

After a solid day of pizza "sampling" [we'll call it, since "devouring" sounds like an activity more befitting a college student than the culinary critics we fancy ourselves], we desperately needed some semblance of health the following day. So Saturday morning found us meandering through the colorful farmer's market, acquiring a picnic to take out to Mt. Hood for our hike.

We drove along the Columbia River Gorge on our way out there. Again, GORGEOUS weather.

Here's Darla and I at Multnomah Falls, Mr. Handsome taking a hiking break, and then Sean and I while he takes another break, this time from keeping his eyes open.

Sunday was another full day, mostly of exploring downtown Portland itself and EATING (surprise!). One of the more interesting food options Portland offers is a series of carts set up in parking lots and along streets. They're tucked into every neighborhood we found, and often served up some of the best food we "sampled" [okay, devoured].

It seems fitting then, to end this post the way we ended the Portland-dish trip. We squeezed in the 527th meal on the way to the airport Monday morning, stopping at Moxie's, a food cart on the east side of the river... it was cute, the food was good... but it's now the middle of October, and I'm STILL full.