Monday, April 25, 2011

no holiday hater

I am no holiday hater, but I do have a really hard time decorating for something that is going to be out of style a day later. Namely, Christmas decorations, easter decorations, 4th of july decorations, halloween decorations and depending on how you do it, thanksgiving decorations. No one likes a rosy santa after the 25th. And I never really thought too much about it, but I am finding that the decorations really change the mood of the home and prepare one's mind to think of that of which holiday it is.

I skipped over easter. Bunnies and chicks have never really done it for me... unless they're real and you can hold them for hours on end. And pastels aren't my deal. And candy wrapped in pretty wrappers in the shapes of bunnies or eggs aren't what I enjoy eating. So we basically skipped easter all together. My sweet heart of a mother made sure that Steven and I had easter baskets, but that was the extent of it all. I have decided that I will do what I can for the rest of the holidays this year, but I think what I really need to motivate me is a child. They make everything so much more colorful. There's nothing like the excitement of a youngster to get you excited for something. I do enjoy a good easter egg hunt, but you can't get into one of those without some dirty looks if you don't have a child accessory. So, on the checklist for next easter is a child. And if that is not an option, than we need some sweetly awesome traditions to make this celebration of christ's resurrection a little more party-like. No more of this coming home from church and eating cereal 'cause it's convenient. And no more not bothering to set up some bunnies and jelly-beans. There is no excuse.


Thursday, April 21, 2011

Joseph valued at $1

When we got married we had two cars. I know. Two. We were living the true dream life. One manly beast of an explorer that Steve drove and would insist that I drive when the weather got bad and then a girl car that gets great gas mileage. I loved them both as they both had their purposes. The explorer got all of our furniture to the place we're at now while the civic has driven us wherever we needed to go, little complaint and loose on the wallet.

Right now we only have the civic while the explorer is off with Steven's brother. This means that I am in the car much more than I would prefer, driving not only myself to work, but Steven as well. And, may I tell a little secret here, but he doesn't need to be driven. He's got a bike and it takes all of 20 minutes to ride. It takes me 30 min driving no slower than 75 mph to get to my work. But, because I love him, and don't care if he's out in the sunshine, getting exercise, I drive him to and from work when I can. Which is often enough. And while I am venting, it takes me a round trip of 20 minutes to do all these service calls for him, which is time out of my day, and is costing us some unnecessary gas money. The only way I keep myself from screaming is knowing that he is earning the bulk of our expenses and if he wants to spend money on gas instead of whatever else a guy would want to spend money on (going out to eat, cookies, soda, Neilsons, steak, potatoes, did I mention food?) I guess I am not in the position to complain. Especially since he is always sure to keep me busy with money for crafties.

He knows how I feel about gas money and him getting exercise and so I wasn't caught off guard when he called from work yesterday and asked, "Hey, do you want to go to DI?" DI is my weakness. Cookie Monster loves cookies, Paula Dean loves cooking, I love thrift stores. I was imagining the great treasure I was going to find and caught myself as my knees started to weaken and realized, "You're bribing me for a ride home?"

After skirting the clothes and finding nothing but some prom dresses from the 90s I had to move on to the treasures. Browsing around, I always go up and down each isle, never skipping over anything. That's a lie. I always skip over the toy isle. There are always a dozen and a half kids in there, playing with various toys on the floor. And if toys are not being played with, they're strung all over the place and it would be considered a health hazard to venture down there for fear of tripping and breaking a neck.

And there she was. Ceramic Mary and baby Jesus, on a donkey. I think I have seen this before, but I couldn't be sure. For some reason it reminded me of Easter rather than Christmas so I picked her up. 50cents. Sweet deal. It kind of bothered me that there was no Joseph, but not enough to keep me from picking her up. In fact, it was almost more endearing without him. It made you wonder where he was, why this woman and baby were left to themselves with a donkey. Two steps further down the isle, there he was. Face down. Now I had a complete set. He was balding a little in this particular artist's interpretation, but I guess anyone would want Joseph to be a respectable 40 year-old instead of the young, spry guy he probably was. I carried them around, picking up a few more things and putting more things down. They stayed. We went to check out and Mary was 50cents just like I had seen on the tag. However, I hadn't checked Joseph over as well as maybe I should have. He was a whole $1! $1 for a balding man. He's lucky he has the name. I want to tell myself that if I had known that he was going to be more expensive than Mary and Baby Jesus that I still would have picked him up. But I am actually not so sure. There's just something about a young mother and a baby on a donkey that tears at your heart differently than if there's an aging man watching over them. Either way, I have my first easter decoration and it's 3 days until the big day.




Wednesday, April 20, 2011

50% of $30 anyone?

Yes. I know that I am working at a retail craft store. But I did gradute from highschool. And I also hold a legit college degree, no offense to anyone with a 'universal studies' degree. And I am not in the business of judging anyone. But seriously. When I am asked how much 50% of $30 is I am going to raise an eyebrow before I answer.

Yes. It happened.

Working back in the frames gives me lots of opportunities to answer questions. Questions that usually begin with, "Do you have" and end with "a bathroom here?" Somehow being in the back of the store we get a lot of people that have wandered around all the sides of the store and finally find us as their someone to answer their time-sensitive question. Which is fine. Except that it's never a simple, 'yes' answer. It's a, "Yes, and there's a code." Which then sometimes panics people and they have to write it down mid-emergency. And then they have to follow the directions I give them as to how to locate the room with the air blower strong enough to tear your clothes off if you stand too close to dry your hands. It can be quite the process.

But I guess they figure a code on the bathroom will keep all of the homeless people on the street instead of relieving their bladders. And there are a lot of homeless people. They stand next to the cross walks at every single light and sometimes I wonder if there is ever a fight for who gets where or if they're all docile enough to let it slide if they're not up at 6:30 am. There are the regulars that I see on my way to or from work and I have gotten to a nodding acquaintance with these select few. It's definitely a relief to not have to fain interest in the changing light or the cars crossing in front of me after the accustomed nod has been shared.

One man had a cardboard sign that was bi-fold. How he was so creative, I have no idea, but half of his sign said, "smile" and when it was open all the way it broadcast his credentials. The usual. Cold, hungry, vet., homeless. I bet he could tell me what 50% of $30 was, if we ever get past the nodding acquaintance and move on to lip motions.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Seed Creeper

Being married and living in my own house has brought out a controllable amount of domesticity in me. On top of making our house a home by putting things in it that I love I have decided to try my hand at gardening. Any member of my family would recognize this as a large step in my young life as the last time I set foot in a garden was when I was 5, running behind the rototiller as my dad churned up fresh, cool to the feet and sticky to the toes dirt. Yes. I am not much of a 'work outside' kind of person because in Oregon there is never enough sun to get a tan (nature's way of paying for the work done to make something beautiful) and it's usually below a comfortable working temperature. Consequently, I always opted to clean the kitchen, living room, family room, and bathroom - floors and dusting. The whole deal rather than go outside and plant a few seeds and get dirt under my fingernails.

But this year, looking outside at the snow in April, brought on a little giddiness for something green and I started a garden inside. Now, let me tell you. This is the way to garden. Little pots purchased with dirt already in them. All that is needed is water and seeds. Done at the kitchen table. Sitting down comfortably. No mess, no bent back, perfect temperature. It could not get much more appeasing.

However, I am not one with a lot of patience for things that are showing no progress. Especially when I don't exactly know what I am doing. My driving is a great example of this. If I really don't know where I am going I drive safely fast so that I can sooner find out if I am lost and therefore more quickly turn around and find another way. This quick pace does not accompany starting seeds. So I became a seed creeper. I lifted up the dirt on my little sleepies, peering down into their chambers of peace. Nothing was happening. I mean, they looked a little more swollen than when I first dropped them into the dark abyss, but really. Nothing. So I watered some more, kept them warm, and kept checking.

I thought I had molded them when I started seeing little white strings cover them and figured that for a first time, I may as well let them go and see what happens to a moldy seed rather than throw them out. Well, those moldy seeds put out a good starter root and weren't so moldy after all. They just had to grow some feelers so that me picking up their dirt all of the time wouldn't disturb their growth. Thank goodness I didn't throw them out. My seed creeping has satisfied my curiosity and my patience has been regained.

Monday, April 18, 2011

We're kinda IN LOVE and it's sorta a BIG DEAL

A college friend was being sealed to her eternal best friend this past weekend and even though handsome husband had to work, I decided someone needed to represent. So, I prepared myself in both mind and body to drive the 2 hours and 52 minutes to Idaho Falls. I told myself, this is not going to be a weekend of sleep and relaxing. This is going to be a weekend of driving and many stressful situations that seem to follow weddings like a shark follows blood. The emotions emit into the air and all things terrible strike, resulting in a feeding frenzy often involving mothers, mother-in-laws and a bridesmaids with a roaring bride leading the whole shebang. I loaded up with chips, soda, peanut M&Ms and gum to pass out the morning of the wedding when many teeth were going to be forgotten until halfway to our destination and was on my way...

A request from Steven stopped me. 'Will you come by my work to say goodbye?' Ummm... sure, I guess. It's not like we're in the honeymoon stage anymore. It's not going to really matter if I see you for the last time that morning or that evening. But ok, 10 extra minutes wasn't going to kill me. Although, at the time as I pulled off the crowded highway onto a crowded main street I had different thoughts running through mind. About how instead of 5 minutes at 70 mph away from home I was now 10 minutes at 60 mph away. And how minutes were crunching as I waited in line at the light and how 3 hours was being stretched into 10 pm instead of 9 like I had originally planned.

I couldn't kiss him goodbye because of a cold sore that I think has taken up permanent residence on my lip and I wasn't about to hug a grease monkey in my traveling clothes of cuteness. So I blew a kiss, told him I loved him and was begged to wait around for a hour until he got off work so that we could drive the 5-10 minutes home together. Yeah right. I still had things to do before I left before I put my race car on the track.

My hands were still not on the steering wheel when he called a hour later, telling me he was off work and that perhaps I could come get him. Of course, I told him in his dreams, but that I did need the tank filled. See, the funny thing about living in Oregon is that there is always someone there to fill your tank for you. You hand them a card and they put some juice in your car while you sit in comfort, out of the cold, wind and rain. I have only filled up my own car enough times to count on one hand. And I wasn't about to start counting on the other if there was any way that handsome husband could do it for me. So, I relented in driving the yellow line back to his work so long as I got a full tank out of the deal.

On our way home we talked about things that people that are in love talk about. Things like, will you do the dishes while I am gone and there is peanut butter and jelly and bread, you will have enough to survive two days. And from his end, be sure to drive safe and how much he wished he were going.

I jumped out of the car to switch places and gave him a huge goodbye hug. Looking into his muddy-river eyes I realized that I really did want him to go with me. We have a theory about how therapeutic road trips are for relationships because it was a road trip from Rexburg to SLC that I decided he was the man that I wanted for my own and another road trip from Rexburg to Oregon that made us a couple that would later have the opportunity to walk into the eternities together. It's the advice of the century. If something is wrong, a road trip will fix it. We had a few things wrong that night, actually, and it was a little fight that I think had made him feel that he needed me to stop by his work to say goodbye that evening.

Standing at the mailbox, the car humming beside us, waiting for me to push on the gas pedal, I got the craziest of crazy ideas. "How about you just go with me?" Now, why this is so crazy is that he couldn't really 'go' with me. He had to work the next day and needed to be home for that. But he could drive with me. We could get our road trip in. Crazy. To drive 3 hours, drop me off, drive back home, go to work and then come get me just to turn around again to go back home. Crazy. We're not really the irresponsible, throw everything to the wind for the sake of love kind. The summer we were engaged it would have been easy for me to stay in Rexburg to 'be together' but I chose to go back to Oregon where I wouldn't have to put out money for rent and food and could earn money. Most of that earned money went to gas, paying for trips from Oregon to Idaho, but it seemed like the responsible thing to do at the time. And I am no dainty flower when it comes to driving. I can hold my own in speed and distance. Whenever we need to get somewhere quickly I am the one behind the wheel. And I have zero tickets. Thank you. Those 12 hour trips from Oregon to Rexburg and back gave me some decent endurance skills and I can hold my bladder together like no one's business. Needless to say, I didn't NEED Steven to drive me. And I am not normally sappy enough to ask him to do such a thing when it's so totally dumb. Very irresponsible to use so much gas and so much time. But we went for it.

We're kinda IN LOVE and it's sorta a BIG DEAL. He grabbed his shaver, washed the oil off the arm that I always lean on during these long trips and we were in the car on our way, together. We got our problems taken care of, talked about a few dreams, disagreed about how many kiddos we are going to have and laughed at the ridiculous things we have done. He dropped me off in Idaho Falls into a roomful of rowdy girls and I was in college again while he had to return back to life and drive 3 more hours back down to Utah. Bless his heart. I could have done it on my own. But we had a good time together and I wouldn't take it back, even after him hitting a deer on the way home. Yeah. A deer. Stupid thing. He isn't sure if he killed it, but for sure the 3 cars behind him did. It's times like this that we're just grateful that we still have the opportunity to spontaneously take off together and not worry about who's changing the baby's diapers and who's throwing a ball for the dog. And we'll take advantage of it, even if it's irresponsible and makes us look a little sappy.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Thinking about color

Alright. So I have always been a neutral girl. Buying only black, brown or white shoes so as to insure that they can be worn with anything in my wardrobe. At one point a few summers ago I was looking through my clothes and noticed a trend of A LOT of white t-shirts (because they matched any color of sweater, which still remains to be a fashion necessity most months out of the year) and quite a few darker things like maroons and blues. Ummm... something needed to change. So I set a small goal for myself to have a t-shirt in each color of the rainbow. Not a big deal for most, but pretty lofty for someone who's closet could be described in little more than the word 'bland.' That summer was full of thrift shopping as I hunted dozens upon dozens of racks of t-shirts for purples, yellows, greens, pinks and variations of blue. None of these had any sort of designs on them, mind you, they were merely solids of one color or the other. But it was a big step. I was still under the impression that white and black and brown were the only colors that could ever truly match another color such as purple and my sweaters stayed the same while the colors under the sweaters changed to all shades of a butterfly's wing.

Once I had a variation of colors in my drawers I had another road block to overcome. I love layers with a passion and I could always be found with a cami underneath a t-shirt. However, this cami was always the same white lace cami that matched everything. Trendy, not. So I took another breath and went on a search for colored and printed camis to layer with. This was an adventure as I started putting colors together that I had only seen on other people. My wardrobe was growing and it was definitely worth all the time spent scavenging for a good deal. It was really hard for me to attach these clothes to my own personal history of dullness so I invented a character who loved bright, fun clothing and slowly dressed her up to be me.

I've still got a long ways to go before my clothes are the way I really want them, but I did get my first pair of shoes a few months ago that are not white, brown or black. They are green. I only bought them 'cause they were $5 and fit (which is hard to find when you wear size 10). I figured I couldn't go wrong with a $5 experiment and have found that I LOVE them and though they may not 'go' with everything, I wear them with everything and they make my feet happy to finally be included in my color wearing.

I am slowly buying t-shirts with designs to include in my wardrobe. Some stay and some go as I figure out exactly what I am going for. And that's why thrift stores are so amazing. Because for $4 you can't exactly go wrong. Wear it once and it doesn't work, throw it in the recycle pile and move on only short the dollar amount of a fastfood meal. Sounds like a good deal to me.

However, there are those times when the things from the thrift store become my favorites. I can never decide if it's the article of clothing matched with a great price or the fact that it's an article of clothing that I usually wouldn't have looked twice at except for the price tag was right that makes me love these misfits all the more.

best kind of house plant


I have discovered it. The perfect house plant. No watering, no dusting. No maintenance what-so-ever. I had fallen in love with all of the tree silhouettes I had been seeing in blogland, especially the kind that start in the corner and then reach out over a bed or a couch. Renting puts a few holdbacks on my crafty side, but increases my creativity as I try to duplicate things that I love in a way that does not do any permanent changing to the walls. So I found a tree that I loved, sketched it a few times to get the feel of it, picked up some paint samples from two different WalMarts so as not to deplete anyone's supply of brown or green, whipped out my trusty painter's tape and went to work. When it was completed it was missing some color so I added some cutesy fabric birds and a little nest with bird stickers included. It is located in the corner so as to branch out to both sides of our empty, white walls. The next time I get myself to WalMart I will grab some more samples so as to make the branches crash into the ceiling, but for right now it works just fine as I figure out what else to do with our walls to cover up the asylum feel they give off currently.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Happy Valentine's in a closet

Alright. So I am baby hungry. There. I said it. I thought that I was just toddler hungry. Working in the nursery has done nothing for me than make me want one of my own. When I first got the calling to spend two hours a Sunday with toddlers I was mortified. I was never going to meet any more people, my potential captured in the low-ceilinged room they call nursery. I was going to be forgotten until they found me fossilized in the sedimentary rock of church callings.

The first Sunday was a eye-opening experience of play-dough, books with teething marks on the corners, snack time turned into sword fighting by the little boys with their stick pretzels and little girls changing and re-changing baby doll clothes. Protecting their babies with the ferociousness of a lioness, insisting that we all whisper because, 'the babies are sleeping.'

Well, those kids moved out because they were transported to the magical place of Sunbeams and primary. Mind you, there is still one who has his priorities straight and will bellow and wiggle in class until his teacher sends him into nursery with his 2 year-old brother and father who cannot leave due to breath-holding until blue of the before-said 2 year-old. Older brother frequently times his arrival as to get in as we're washing the tables for snack and then becomes a docile lamb who says, 'more marshmallows please' and 'thank you.' Once snack time is over his father takes them both to the bathroom and always only returns with one boy.

Now what is left is a lot of younger kids, mostly ages 18 mths to 2 1/2. It's a whole different ball game. No longer is this dodgeball, 3 strikes and you're out of ways to discipline a kid who isn't yours for stealing toys and running. This is now a slow game of volleyball where often the ball hits the floor and stays there. The kids aren't too interested in much of anything but the new toys and the 3 girls to 1 boy ratio really works in my favor as I lust over having a little girl of my own that I can dress up in cute dresses with puffy sleeves and matching hair-bows.

After some puzzles, a miniature lesson and a quiet snack time where the biggest hit is marshmallows they play quietly. I emphasize quietly. Each takes their own toy and sits with it for about 5 min until they get bored and search for another, often stumbling across an already abandoned pop-up toy, meaning there's not too much clean-up after 30 min of play time. Singing time comes and they love holding popsicle sticks with shapes glued on as the grown-ups in the room sing children songs.

My worry of meeting new people has passed as I have gotten to know a few of the primary workers better as they stop in and check on the kiddos and the rest of the adults shoveling out marshmallows and teddy-grahams by the truckful. I am no longer a nobody in a large room of older women, knowing a lot of people, but none of them well. I belong to something now and have cute little heads with curled hair and matching bows tip-toeing around carrying baby dolls. It's wonderful. And though it's taken 3 months, a few of the kids recognize me outside of the nursery and my roll as snack provider. That makes me feel important. I am still waiting for the first of them to bring their crayons and paper back to me during sacrament like what would happen in my ward back in Oregon.

So my craving for a toddler began and I would see a little girl with her mommy or daddy in the store all dolled up and would want one of my own. But then one of my best friends invited me to her baby shower for the soon arriving Savage (that's their last name, I promise, I am not making it up to be cruel). She's having a girl so I made her a bow holder to keep her from going crazy, especially on Kindergarten mornings. What you do is you take apart a frame, wrap the cardboard in a cute, choice piece of fabric and then wrap ribbon around it to clips bows and flower to. It's ingenious.

Well, she opened a whole lot of gifts wrapped in cute girly paper that held cute, girly clothes and blankets and anything else a baby could want. Her new niece of 10 days was also there and as I watched her tiny cuteness be unraveled from a pink and green receiving blanket to reveal a matching outfit I was in love. Such a tiny little thing and when I took her in my arms I shed a tear down my right cheek. She was just sooo little! Her little mouth and fingernails and ears, it was just all too much to handle! I wanted one of my own, right then. The worst part about wanting a baby is that you still have to wait 9 months. At least. So I gave her back to her mommy and helped another guest put all of the cute gifts in the nursery. Upon hanging up the last pink sweater I stepped back and took a look at the closet and noticed a theme. Pink, Red, White, Purple and a touch of yellow. It was like opening a closet of Valentine's. That was the last little push I needed to wanting a baby of my own that would keep me up a lot of the night, be an additional accessory to take with me everywhere, and spit up and poop at the least convenient of times. Maybe clothes aren't the most important things of having a baby, but they sure make it look like a lot of fun!