Little Home on the Seattle Prairie

Just call me a pioneer. We didn't have any Christmas decorations this year, our stuff being in St. Louis and all. So, we decided to make some. I bought some felt, made some stockings, we made red and green paper chains, strung popcorn, and also made salt dough ornaments. That was really fun, since it had been years since I'd done that. Here's the recipe for anyone else who feels like being a pioneer this year.

Salt Dough Ornaments

* ½ cup salt
* 1 cup flour
* ½ cup water
* Rolling pin
* Cookie sheet
* Toothpick (I actually used a straw, it was much easier)
* Miniature cookie cutters
* Acrylic paints
* Glitter glue or glitter paint
* ribbon

How to make it:

1. Preheat the oven to 250 degrees F.
2. Mix together, salt, flour, and water until dough is formed.
3. Knead the dough on a floured surface until the mixture is elastic and smooth. If dough is too sticky, sprinkle with flour, continue to do so until stickiness is gone. Do not add too much flour, this will dry out the dough and will cause it to crack before you get a chance to bake it.
4. Roll out the dough to about ¼” thick with a rolling pin that has been dusted with flour.
5. Use cookie cutters to cut out as many shapes as you want.
6. Use a toothpick (I actually used a straw and it was perfect) to make a hole toward the top of the shape. Poke the toothpick into the shape, then holding toothpick straight up and down, make a circular motion as if you were stirring something. Keep circling until the hole is the size you want.
7. Place all shapes onto an ungreased cookie sheet and place into the preheated oven.
8. Bake for 2 hours.
9. Remove from oven and allow to cool completely.

I didn't paint mine because, evidently, we just "can't keep buying things." Including paint.

Have fun!

Knock, knock. Who's there?

It was Gingerbread House Night at our place tonight. A thoughtful, yet fun-filled family home evening where we became confection architects while drawing thought-provoking analogies to "foundations" and the such. I was on one side of the table, working on the backside of the house. See House Picture #1. I carefully decorated the roof, added a palladian window for added interior light, the little sculpture gardens on either side of the door... Clearly, a place where some festive someone will bake treats and hum holiday tunes. And probably host a big holiday party.



On the other side of the table, though, other things were in the works. It may look like a normal, innocent, kid-and-dad constructed gingerbread house. See House Picture #2. Don't be deceived. If this had audio, you would have heard something like this:



Me: So guys, what is our family's foundation built on?

The others: The gospel. We need more frosting. Right here, by the powder attack things. When people try to get in, the powder will GET them!

Me: Right, the gospel--

The others: Okay, kids, here are the video surveillance cameras--

Me: --and Jesus Christ--please stop eating the frosting--

The others: I know, let's take out the powder attack things and put in sucky things! If they try to open the door, the sucky things will suck them in and get them. Can I have another gumball?

Me: What can we do to make our family's foundation stronger?

The others: MOTION SENSORS ON THE DOORS AND WINDOWS!! (cue maniacal laughter) YEAH! So, if they try to get in, the alarm will go off! And the sucky things will get them!! (more laughter)

Me: Okay, but what about prayer? Seriously, you're not going to have any candy left to decorate.

The others: I KNOW, I KNOW--we need some LASERS!! Right on top so they can shoot down! Yeah! They can shoot down if someone touches the FALSE DOOR KNOB!

Me: And love. We have to have love for each oth--

The others: Oh, cool, Daddy, a FALSE DOOR KNOB! What's a false door knob? We need more sucky things!

Me: Do you see that we all make up parts of our house? It's like we're each a par--

The others: The gingerbread guy is the guard! Yeah, the guard! We need more video cameras!! (cue more laughter)

Me: And I say these things--

The others: MORE SUCKY THINGS!!



Note to self: Nix the Jason Bourne movies before Gingerbread House Night next year... (no, not the little kids, just the big one)

Things

Exciting thing: We have a contract on our St. Louis home.

Bad thing: Girlie just cut her own hair. Family pics are in 1 1/2 weeks.

Funny thing: Sammy thinks his hand has actual magical powers (thanks to the gas fireplace switch and a dad with a sense of humor). And he wears his undies backwards so he can see the picture better.

Ridiculous thing: I've been sucked into the black hole of facebook, where I waste too much time and refer to myself in third person.

Amazing thing: I got the Holy Grail of Christmas cards--a picture of all three kids, in front of the tree, matching holiday jammies, ALL looking at the camera, ALL smiling. At the same time.

Happy thing: Found my camera/computer cord so I can now post more pictures. Just couldn't think of one appropriate for this post.

Fun thing: Made popcorn chains to decorate our live tree with the help of "Miss Julia" and her cat "Milky" (who, even though played by Sammy, was a pregnant mommy cat), who insisted on eating more popcorn than creating festive decorations with it.

Excited thing: Can't wait to see our friends in St. Louis.

Wondering thing: Can any of those friends pick us up from the airport next Friday night?? (really)

Skeptical thing: "They" say our van is fixed. For real this time. I'll let you know in a few hundred miles.

Clean thing: Sammy, in the bathtub. Again.

Indulgent thing: Coach sunglasses, justified only by the fact that they are prescription. J and I are still in talks.

Romantic thing: J and I have a 4 minute date every night, walking to the mailbox after the kids are down.

Kissable thing: Little Red, who is so soft and squishy, and totally a mama's boy. We call him Master Oogway now (from Kung Fu Panda--he was the old turtle with no teeth, much like our little lip-smacking one).

Lucky thing: me.

Only a Week Late

So, yes, we did indeed celebrate Thanksgiving here, too. J's brother and his family came up and we had a marvelous time.

It had me thinking, however. Amidst the only-mildly-controlled chaos that happens to be my life right now, I have a plethora of things to be grateful for. The one that stands out, however, and has stood out all year is this: kind people. I am so grateful, from the bottom of my heart, for the kindness of people all over. This year has been peppered with selfless friends who have lent a hand, an ear, a shoulder during this doozy of a year. My friends and neighbors in St. Louis (and elsewhere), I love you. I truly do. It makes me cry just thinking about you. My eyes are burning right now. I'm grateful for the kindness of strangers/new friends here in Seattle who have made this adjustment possible. People who have gone out of their way to reach out and welcome us to our new home.

So here's to all you angels out there, parading around like you're normal people or something. May the stars align over your heads and the Good Luck Gods smile down upon you. You've touched my heart with your care, your kindness and your compassion. I have fond memories and think of each of you especially during the holidays. I am thankful for YOU. God has blessed me so richly. You mean more than you could ever know.

How to Drive a Sporty Little Crossover

How to Drive a Sporty Little Crossover, in 10 Easy Steps.

1--Buy a 2008 Dodge Grand Caravan, with only 5 miles on it.

2--Start driving it.

3--Have it break down.

4--Have it break down again (repeat as many times as necessary, preferably when your husband is half-way across the world).

5--Get to know the phrase "powertrain control module" so well that you appear to know what you're talking about.

6--Start asking Chrysler for a new car.

7--(And this one takes some doing) Move half-way across the country to continue the fight with Chrysler.

8--Have it break down one final time. This time you may almost swear.

9--At the dealership, look them in the eye and ask them seriously how many more times they are willing to risk your children's lives.

10--Voila! You will find yourself in the driver seat of a (rental) brand new, silver, much hipper than your minivan, Dodge Journey.

Who is this girl??

And what, you may ask, is she doing on my nightstand? Good question. I have an answer for you that will only spawn further questions.

She is on my nightstand because we moved. No, not the whole "moving to Seattle, blah, blah, blah" but moving--again. Yes, again. To a new apartment, owned by Lynda Wong, who, if you were like me, you would assume is a lovely aging Asian woman. You'd be wrong, as I was, because she's actually blonde and blue eyed.

So, you're still wondering why we moved again, this time to a six-month lease. The "whys" would make for boring blogging. So I'm going to tell you that on the cusp of the upheavals that may or may not be wreaked upon us by the new governmental changes, we thought it best to max out our taxpaying dollars and give the United States Post Office Department of Address Forwarding a run for their money.

Now, onto Ms. Wong's ground level condo. The description was "partially furnished" and the rent was affordable, so we moved in. It's beautiful, really it is. Nicely decorated, well kept. The surprising thing is, that while I was expecting beds and some furniture, this place is not exactly "partially furnished." It's more like "hope you don't bring too much junk with you because all of my stuff, sans clothing, is still here." And when I say "stuff" I mean dishes, pots and pans, towels. Then I mean Vicodin in the kitchen cupboards, jewelry in the bathroom drawers, stuffed birds in decorative cages in the sitting room, and coconut body oil on the counter. I also mean grocery store coupons, post it notes with phone numbers inside the cupboard doors, chicken nuggets in the freezer and a full array of condiments (including oyster sauce) that we are "welcome to use." Also, courtesy of the previous tenants, we also had nighties folded under hair-covered pillow and sheets. But I digress.

It is TRULY like Lynda woke up one morning, thought "Hey, why don't I move to Hawaii", packed her clothes and took off. She left everything, including wedding and family pictures that cover our walls, tables, and nightstands. Weird, you're telling me.

And that, friends, is why Lovely Nameless Relative of Lynda Wong is on my nightstand.

Sam Sam the Clean Wild Man

Sammy likes to be clean. It's his new thing. Granted there are worse vices. Like the phase where he wanted to cut everything. But that's another story. It was first manifested when, carving pumpkins, he gazed for a moment at the pumpkin guts before a polite, “Can I have some gloves, please?” I laughed, and smugly thought, 'that's my boy.' It's morphed into an obsession, though. He'll ask to take a bath or shower at least twice daily, and believe me, it's funny to see a little 3-yr old showering by himself. Like a little tiny man. Baths are more common, though. He'll ask to fill up the tub “Very, very hot, please” and then he'll just lay on his back and float. Usually he covers his ears under water and shouts “HEY, CAN YOU HEAR ME?” Then, like yesterday, when I am on the phone or something I'll catch a glimpse of a naked little bottom running into the laundry room (where the toys are kept) and then 30 seconds later, long foam pieces of the Cranium fort or big legos being joyfully toted to the bathroom. Interception. Yelling. Threats of draining the water. Happy playing.

When I deny him a bath, there is howling and gnashing of teeth. He's even gone so far as to have a potty accident on purpose. It used to be a direct ticket to a nice warm bath, but I caught on quickly. I'm no dummy. I made him just scrub off with Little Red's wipes, amidst loud protests of, “NO! I WANT TO BE CLEAN! THIS MAKES ME NOT IMPRESSED WITH YOU!!” (Apparently, he's not impressed with much these days). He also likes to wash his hands for a really, really long time. By the time he's done, the rest of the bathroom is clean/soaked too.

On the flip side of this fiasco, I can now use phrases like, “Come on, buddy. If you get this mess all cleaned up, I'll let you take a bath” and “Boys who make good choices get to play in the bath!” Gotta love when you can use good personal hygiene as a carrot.

Someone has a really interesting life

I mistakenly received a postcard meant for someone else. The picture on the front was a wild gorilla and the stamp was from Uganda. It read:

We finally made it to the gorilla trek campsite and tomorrow is the big climb. The weather has been good with occasional showers lasting only minutes. We have seen all the required animals with the cape buffalo, baboon, monkey, hippo and many different deer and antelope the most plentiful. Only three days till stateside.

How fun is that? A real life adventure. Different from the kind of adventure where you uproot your family and stuff them into a curry-smelling apartment half-way across the country, but still...

What I failed to mention

What I failed to mention about our first Seattle adventure, was that we came back from Pike Place Market only to be greeted by a parking ticket. Apparently they like to hide one parking "kiosk" per block behind some trees and stick it to you when you are new and have no idea that the idiots charge for parking on weekends.

I thought I would share my letter contesting this, which resulted in my fine being cut in half.

Feel free to copy it should this same thing happen to you in Seattle.

______________________________________________________________________

Your Honor,


First, I do admit that I made a mistake. But, I honestly didn't know I was in violation at the time. I had just moved here. In fact, it was my first weekend here and I was still in a rental car. We were out exploring Pike Place Market, which was fabulous. I moved here from St. Louis, where (if parking costs) we still have old fashioned parking meters at each parking space, which don't even require money on Saturdays or Sundays. I didn't see any meter or sign, and I was busy keeping my three very young children in tow. It was only when we ventured back to the car that I noticed a ticket and looked way down the street for any sign.


I did make an error, but considering that I had no idea about parking regulations in this area, I would sincerely appreciate any leniency the Court is willing to grant. I am excited to be in the beautiful Seattle area and would be very grateful for a gesture of goodwill.

Very truly yours,

Things' Mommy

_______________________________________________________________________________

Only, I signed my name. He or she is probably not a fan of my blog.
So, there you have it. Who knows? It might save you some money, too.

One other thing: I was not actually driving. J was. He insisted that I 'handle' this, as I am "better at handling 'this sort of thing'". Not entirely sure if I should be offended or flattered.

It Came Back to Bite Me

Putting the kids to bed at 6:25 p.m. last night, that is. So, whenever J is out of town for more than a couple days, bedtime seems to creep up earlier and earlier. Plus, I have daylight savings helping me out. The kids can't tell time, so they accept "Bedtime, kids" as soon as it's dark. (In the summer their bedtime is 8:30-ish. When J was in Utah for a week, I swear there was one night we ate dinner at 4:30 and they were in bed before 6:00 p.m.) Last night, as I was attempting a Thanksgiving-themed family home evening lesson, the kids' silliness meter was going berserk. I said, "Okay. That's it. Lesson's over. Family prayer." The kids were already ready for bed, so after prayer they trotted off to bed, and fell asleep right away.

"Sweet," I thought.

I slept horribly last night. Between waking up every time Girlie coughed, and bad dreams of my teenage sister unabashedly joyriding in my minivan, it was rough. Plus, I was sleeping with Little Red in bed with me. When J is gone, I trade one cute, bald guy for another.

Bright and early, I heard the kids laughing and running around, but I couldn't get my brain awake enough to really care. It was still dark, and I hadn't gotten J's 6:30 a.m. wake up call yet (10:30 p.m. Hong Kong time), so I knew it was way too early for the day to begin. When Sammy galloped in, he snuggled a little, and then in an angelic, repentant voice, he volunteered, "Okay, we won't get into cookies anymore!"
"Oh, have you been eating cookies?"
Just then Girlie came in. "Come here, Sweet Pea." She came over to snuggle, but was acting weird--snuggling backwards. I turned her around and then squinted in the darkness trying to figure out why she looked like a clown.
"Oh, do you have Mommy's lipstick on?"
"Yes," she smiled broadly. "I wanted to look like you."

I rolled my eyes. How can you get mad at that? I extracted myself from the warm bed, and came out to assess any other damage in our still-dark apartment. Then as 'punishment' for the kids, I poured big bowls of honey nut Cheerios which they had to finish before leaving the table. (For some reason, they're not hungry) Which is why I am sitting here at the table, typing this blog.

That'll teach me to put them to bed at 6:25 p.m., eh?