About Dinner

I love family dinners. We eat together every night, with only occasional exceptions. It might not be gourmet, but it's real. It's one of the memories of home I want my kids to take with them when they go. Knowing my kids, they'll probably remember the conversations about cannibalism more than anything else, but it's something.

We always have a tablecloth on the table. Sounds luxurious, but I think it's just another one of my endless collections. I love tablecloths. We usually have cloth napkins that may or may not match the tablecloth depending on who set the table. Think of the wonderful possibilities this holds for self expression! The napkins! The goofy/funky/pretty/handmade napkin rings. Maybe you need to be a bleary-eyed mother of three toddlers traipsing through a mall to really understand the glory of napkin rings. You buy them in a part of the store where nothing can break. It's like heaven.

I've taught my kids to crumb the table after meals using a crumb sweeper. Not that they actually do it, but I've taught them. Wasabi girl likes to do it. It's a very satisfying way to clean up a crumby mess. No clue what I'm talking about? Here's one, the Crumb Pod Tablecloth Sweeper by Casabella. It even says in the description it's ideal for families with young children. Hmmm, mine are 10 and 11 and still messy. I asked my sister one time how she managed to keep her dining area so clean and she pointed to her fat little dog. Ah!

Nobody can start eating until we're all seated and someone says grace. We have a variety of prayer styles, and the kids know that they may be called on any time to extemporize. We have a fallback that we use on nights when we're unimaginative - "For health and strength and daily bread we praise thy name oh Lord." Only we sing it as a round, often loudly, so when the windows are open I'm sure the neighbors hear "FOR HEALTH AND STRENGHTFOR HEALTH AND STRENGTHFOR HEALTH. . ." x5 as we all get our voice in there. After Easter we sing the Orthodox Resurrection Hymn in Greek, also pretty loudly. Poor neighbors.

Drama Girl likes to focus her eating on the bread group, while the twins put away mass quantities of everything. Wasabi Girl is the tiniest person in the family but she eats like a football player. Obviously didn't get that metabolism from me.

We carry on a tradition from my family of serving milk from a white pottery milk jug. It just tastes better that way. We drink a lot of milk. Neighbors come to us when they want to change their oil because we always have lots of empty plastic jugs ready for recycling.

When we're all stuffed there is one more tradition I've taught the kids. In order to leave the table, they have to ask to be excused. Another habit from my own parents I guess. It's just polite. They come up with their own phrasing and often rush the words out so they can get going. Jungle Boy says "thankyouforthiswonderfulmealI'malldonemayIpleasebeexcused?" in about one syllable.

It isn't fancy, they don't have perfect manners, milk spills and feet kick under the table, but it's dinner, and I'll miss it when they're gone.

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I'm also posting today over at How Do You Do It?

What Drama Girl Has to Say

Time it took me to figure out toonlet.com: about an hour.
Time it took Drama Girl: about 5 minutes.

She really did make the first strip. I made her change my first name to threeundertwo, otherwise the whole thing is hers.

Another Voyage to the Inner Sanctum of EA

Jungle Boy got to test another wii game over at Electronic Arts this morning. I love going there and seeing the nerd beehive. Sounds like it would be such a fun job, creating games, but I'm certain there's a fair amount of tediousness involved.

The campus itself is pretty cool. There is a grassy labyrinth that the kids love running through, and a lawn that looks like a full-sized soccer field. Each of the public buildings that I've been in has game stations set up in the lobby to while away the time while waiting for appointments. We moms sat back while our sons played this morning. Then when the boys were called into the secret room for the top secret testing, the moms played on Boom Blox.

He loved the game he tested, which I can't talk about, and when it was finished, he got to pick a free game to pay him for his time. He says we've got almost every single game they offer for free now. I guess we'll start collecting PC games from them next. What a deal. And I love a deal, especially when it helps me justify my own game habit.

The cartoon is just a bit of silliness. I discovered a new way to suck hours out of my day over at toonlet.com. Go check them out, if you have nothing better to do for the next few hours. They're great. In fact, one of the creators of the Sims just commented on this little cartoon I made over there. Too funny.

I kick [word that I don't use on my blog]

I made it onto Alltop! If you select the category "moms" and scroll allllll the way down to the bottom you'll find me.

You can say you knew me before I was a star.

Alltop is a great place to find the best of the best in news, opinion, technology, sports, blogs etc. One-stop shopping for information and entertainment. And we busy moms are all about one-stop-shopping.

ABC

I got tagged for this from Catholic Teacher Musings.

A is for age: 46, although My Wii Fit tells me I'm anywhere between 28 and 52, depending on how clumsy I am on any given day.

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B is for burger of choice: Bacon avocado, quite pink inside. And a side of defibrillators.
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C is for what kind of car you drive: A '98 Toyota Sienna minivan that is about as tired of driving around as I am.
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D is for your dog's name: Mr. Invisible, since I don't have one.

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E is for essential item you use everyday: Chocolate. And deodorant I guess. And the computer and my car. And a whip for the kids. Is anybody still reading this far?
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F is for favorite TV show at the moment: Trick question, right? We don't watch TV. Husband and I are watching reruns of the Horatio Hornblower mini-series on dvd though. That Ioan Gruffudd is cute beyond words. I think my husband and I are actually seeing two different shows when we watch it together. Don't tell him.

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G is for favorite game: "The Quiet Game" ha ha ha ha as if that ever works. . .
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H is for Home State: California

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I is for instruments you play: Harp, but mine isn't as pretty as the one in my profile. Piano. Tympani in the school orchestra when they didn't have harp parts. I like playing large instruments that are difficult to move and tune.
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J is for favorite juice: Passion Orange Guava. They dispense it at the blood donation center. Some people just go there for the juice. This is why I had to start blogging. I never have a short answer for anything. Everything is a story story story. I'm only on J. How long is this post going to be? Is anybody still reading this? I'm going to go check my stats page the day this runs and see "average time spent on site: 2 seconds" because really, who *cares* what kind of juice I like? Going to send me some?

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K is for whose butt you'd like to kick: That little yippy dog next door that barks all the way through Horatio Hornblower every single night. I'd like to fire *him* out of a cannon.
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L is for last restaurant at which you ate? Su Hong's in Menlo Park

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M is for your favorite Muppet: Grover
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N is for Number of Piercing: Three. All in my ears. I'm just wild that way.

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O is for overnight hospital stays: Several nights when I had the twins.

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P is for people you were with today: Besides my family, some of the kids on the cast of my daughter's play that I'm altering costumes for. My cats.
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Q is for what you do with your quiet time: Blog and read, needlepoint and sleep. I'm big on naps. Love them.

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R is for biggest regret: I wish I'd taken more art history classes. Seriously.
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S is for status: Happily married, 16 years.

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T is for time you woke up today: Around 6 or so.
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U is for what you consider unique about yourself: My social security number.

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V is for vegetable you love: carats, the diamond kind.
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W is for worst habit: Spending too much time on the computer. But what am I to do when somebody sends something like this to me?

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X is for x-rays you've had: Dental , hip - I have a huge bone spur and osteoarthritis from a skiing accident when I was 12. I'm in pain most of the time from that. I need to get the whole hip replaced but I don't know when I'll have the time to be out of commission for 6 months.

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Y is for yummy food you ate today: Almond Roca. My little guilty pleasure. I only have one every few days and I savor it.

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Z is for zodiac: Gemini. Both of me.

Vintage Thingies Thursday: I'm a Little Teapot

Doesn't this make you want to sing that song? I love this teapot. The fact that he has a matching mug is just icing on the cake. He reminds me of those old dish towels with anthropomorphic dancing dishes and cutlery. I'm pretty sure these guys sprout legs and play with the fiestaware when I'm not looking.

If anyone knows his history, let me know. He's a beautiful fire-king green, but no marks on the bottom.

The quilted table topper isn't vintage, I made it from reproduction fabrics.

Vintage Thingies Thursday is hosted by the Apron Queen, who gave me an apron and totally rocks!

How to Make Chex Mix

• Take twins grocery shopping. When they suddenly ask if they can make Chex Mix, remember that you thought it would be a great idea to teach them some more cooking skills this summer. Send them to go get Chex -- "the one with the recipe on the box" and tell them to meet you back in your aisle as you continue shopping.
  
• Tell them not to run as they take off in gleeful independence. Watch them run as they round the corner out of sight.
• When Twin 1 returns and asks "Wheat or Corn Chex?" Repeat the instructions "The one with the recipe on the box" and send him off again.
• Finish three more aisles of shopping and start wondering where they are.
• When Twin 2 returns, listen patiently while they explain "They don't have THE recipe mom, just these weird recipes." Tell them "The recipe is always on the box. Get the Rice Chex and get back here."
• Wait a long time again. When they return trying to convince you one last time that the recipe isn't on the box, don't believe them until you actually look at the boxes and see the weird variations on the recipe:

• Once home, tell twins to Google Chex Mix recipe.
  
• Wait forever while they get distracted and play Webkinz on the computer.
  
• Review their finds: "Original Chex Party Mix" vs. "Real Original Chex Party Mix."

• Wonder why 1,849 people actually bothered to take the time to rate Chex Mix on a website.
• Go and get the mail. Find a package with a rockin' free vintage apron from Rick Rack Attack.
  

• Put the apron on of course!
• Divide and conquer. Tell one twin he gets to make cookies later. His sister is put in charge of Chex Mix.
• Show daughter how to measure butter into pan. Watch as she coats arms, pan, and stove with butter. Nod and smile and remain encouraging.
• Commence measuring spices. Watch Worcestershire splash everywhere. Note with dismay after she's poured half the spices out that you'll have to review the difference between teaspoons and tablespoons. Throw out the whole spice mixture and start again.
• Try to keep smiling as you try to help her chip off some onion powder that has decided to turn into cement.
• Alter the recipe because who likes bagel chips anyway? Chex Mix really needs Cheez-Its.
• Stand back while she measures dry ingredients. Watch them cascade beautifully everywhere. Listen to the floor crunch underfoot.

• Carefully mix the whole thing on a cookie sheet, watching it spill all over the place.
• Put it in the oven.
  
• Open the oven door and smell that bit of heaven that is processed cereals, butter, and salt

• Enjoy a little snack and write a post about the whole thing.

How I Met My Husband (at the Insane Asylum)

I met my husband at a mental hospital. A branch of the VA that is a large teaching hospital affiliated with a University. We both worked in the psychiatry department which was a great job, once you got past the fact that some of the psychiatrists seemed a lot nuttier than the patients.

I was working as a psych tech, coordinating research protocols for an Alzheimer's Research Center. It was fascinating and I learned a lot about love and undying devotion from the caregivers who brought in their loved ones for testing. Alzheimer's research is still a cause very close to my heart.

My husband-to-be worked in another building on the hospital campus crunching statistics for studies on schizophrenics and agoraphobics.

The building he worked in had a number of audiology booths: rooms about 6 foot square with special deep padding on the walls. If you went in and shut the door you could hear your blood pulse. Those booths gave me claustrophobia. I'm not sure what they were really intended for. My husband used one to practice the trumpet. Close the door and voila! Nice silent practice room.

But what with the trumpeting and the enclosed space and the lack of air conditioning it would get pretty hot in there, so after practicing he'd go lie down on the lawn for some fresh air. I can only imagine what he looked like when one day an inpatient saw him stretched out flat on his back and asked him which ward he lived on. *snort*

I'd seen him around and thought he was cute, and we finally met at a party thrown by a mutual friend. I hadn't even wanted to go to the party and as I recall, I had just thrown on a sweatshirt and skipped the makeup to go kill an hour or two. There he was, that cute guy, standing by the chips. And I was hungry. Who can tell how the course of history would have been different if I hadn't craved salty greasy potato products that night?

We chatted for a while, and I left before he did. He walked me to my car. Cupid's work was done. I began my vigil by the phone.

He never called. Afer two weeks I shrugged off my crush and tried to forget him.

The psyciatry department personnel were all networked on Macs equipped with a primitive IM system that would pop a message on your screen in the middle of your work. We're talking 1989 here, so really, I mean primitive. Two weeks after that intriguing buffet table conversation a message popped up on my screen.

"Would you like to go to lunch on Thursday?"

Rats! Here I was, the girl with no social life, but I had already made arrangements to go out with some girlfriends on that day. I politely declined in a message back. Two seconds later, my screen lit up again.

"How about dinner on Friday?"

Double Rats!! I had a harp gig at a restaurant. I started to panic. This guy was going to think I didn't want to go out with him. I sent my excuse message back. This time the phone rang.

"How about a trip to the beach on Saturday?"

How could I not fall in love with this guy? He brought a backpack to the beach and after a fun afternoon that included finding a perfect abalone shell (I've never found one before or since), he pulled out champagne and strawberries as we watched the sunset. You don't find guys like that every day. At least, I don't.

That't how I met that cute guy who looked suspiciously like an inmate, and last Saturday was our 16th wedding anniversary. I love you honey. And I'm pretty sure the kids get their craziness from your DNA.

Meme-ing

Here I am, coffee cup by my side, computer fired up, checking my stats, as I love to do, when I click on my Technorati backlinks (nerd heaven). I am always surprised by what I find, and today especially, since I see that I was tagged for a meme a few days ago by What a Card. I'm late, but here it is in its glory:

Four jobs I've had:

1. Ballet teacher to the UNLV football team. I think I can still smell that small, poorly-ventilated practice room (shudder). I ought to blog about that sometime.
   
2. Activities Director for a convalescent home in Las Vegas. I got to drive the little van to take the old folks out sightseeing and gambling. "And on your left, the Sands hotel. . ." Good times. Except for that time I backed the van into the jaguar. Remind me to tell that story sometime.
   
3. AIDS vaccine research. I was a Senior Clinical Research Associate for a major biotech company, until I had a whole bunch of babies all at once and retired.
   
4. Assisted with brain autopsies at the VA. The morgue was actually the most fun place to be at the VA. Guess what, I have stories about that too.

Four movies I could watch over and over:

1. Pride and Prejudice. I always wonder if those two are actually going to get together in the end. Colin Firth, you were born to be Mr. Darcy!
2. Sense and Sensibility. I'm a bit of a Jane Austen fan.
   
3. It's a Wonderful Life. Zuzu's petals! I cry Every. Single. Time.
4. Cinderella. She scrubs floors, but she cleans up real good, also she has intelligent conversations with small creatures who appreciate her. What's not to love?

Four places I have lived:

1. Portland, Oregon
2. Las Vegas, Nevada
3. Palo Alto, California
4. Bloomington, Indiana

Four TV shows I like: (This is a bit of a tricky question for me, since we stopped watching television years ago. I'll have to list old shows I liked)

1. ER
2. Gilligan's Island
3. X-Files
4. Little House on the Prairie

Four Favorite Foods:

1. Sourdough bread. Lack of sourdough makes travelling East painful.
2. The really spicy General's Chicken at my favorite Chinese restaurant
3. Godiva chocolate truffles, like the ones sitting in my refrigerator right now from my dear husband.
4. Tillamook cheddar cheese. A little bit of heaven from Oregon. My grandfather used to give everyone a brick of it at Christmas time. It's that good -- like gold bullion.

Four Places I Would Rather Be:

1. That secluded beach at Little Dix Bay on Virgin Gorda where we hung out and snorkled all day for a week on our honeymoon. The one where they had a guy whose job it was to walk up and down the beach all day waiting for us to shout "another rum punch for room 14!" so he could bring it to us.
2. At the Lyon and Healy harp factory buying that $170,000 gold harp featured in my profile after I win millions in the lottery.
3. In a dressing room, trying on gorgeous clothing several sizes smaller than my current clothing, and marveling at my amazingly small size that doesn't look at all like I had three kids in under two years.
4. In a self-cleaning house, with a self-washing/folding/storing laundry system. (The meme didn't say anything about real places).

Four People I'm Tagging:
I'm hitting up my friends from LaughingPlace.com for this one. You guys are some of my best fans, even if you never comment (hint hint). We do this type of stuff on discussion boards over there all the time so I hereby tag:

1. Monkey Memories
2. A Pirate's Life For Me
3. Although Life May Choose the Music. . .I Choose the Dance
4. Beth Loves Ice Cream
   

Beach Day

My husband and I had our first date at the beach. Saturday was our anniversary (16 years!) so we took a trip to the beach with the kids. It's only about 40 minutes away and it was wonderfully cool compared to our house.

We found an ancient carving in a rock. I believe it is a pelican. OK, maybe not too ancient.


Jungle Boy and Drama Girl had an astounding original idea. "Mom! We're going to dig a hole to CHINA!" Some things never change. I fondly remember my own hole-digging days.

DH got out his sketchbook. Wasabi Girl and I played in the water and picked up shells and pretty rocks.




Here's my log. Isn't it perfect? It's saying "this is the place for moms to sit and watch everyone."







Work on the grand hole continued at a steady pace. I don't think I was ever that industrious.








When they got tired of digging, they accessorized with a driftwood towel rack. Drama Girl curled up inside with a book (of course) and the twins ran off exploring together.











Big waves right off shore. As the official worrier, it was my job to keep yelling "Don't go too far! Watch the undertow!" The water was freezing cold anyway. I don't think they would have gone too far, but I was doing my job.












I don't have a caption for this one, except here are my kids and some seagulls and some puffy clouds having fun on a beautiful day at the beach, forgetting everything about everywhere and just living in the moment. Childhood should have millions of days like this.



When we got tired, we went to the same restaurant we'd gone to on that first date 19 years ago. It's Zagat-rated, but still cool enough to have coloring pages for kids. When do we get too old for crayons with meals?





I ordered a mimosa and this is what arrived. I had a blast playing mad scientist mixing the ingredients into the chilled flute. The kids were aghast. Drama Girl said "You're not actually going to drink that are you?"

Oh yes. And it was good.









In the spirit of "Mom, are you going to take pictures of everything today?" Here is the jam. On the left we have rhubarb-strawberry and on the right is olallieberry. This is a specialty of this restaurant. For the uninitiated, an olallieberry is something of a cross between a blackberry and a loganberry (if that helps). It's delicious. Wasabi Girl had olallieberry syrup on her French Toast.


We had a great day, and a perfect anniversary. Someday I'll blog about that first date 19 years ago, but for now, I just want to remember today. Everyone so happy, perfect weather, and olallieberries. Doesn't get any better than this.

Conversations at my house

"Mom, can I go to this party at LaserQuest?"
"Who's throwing it?"
"Joey"
"Wow, he's on the basketball team and the track team - he's going to really be good at Laser Quest"
"Don't worry mom, I know how to play; just team up with a partner then turn on them. Shoot them in the back a lot when they're not looking."
"Whoa. Just like in real life."

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"Mom! There's no peanut butter! We're out of FOOD!"

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"I'm so hungry I could eat a french fry."
"I'm so hungry I could eat a fried Frenchman, but that would be cannibalism, and we're not supposed to talk about that any more."
"Napoleon was French. He never changed his underwear. He had the dirtiest underwear ever."

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"I'm going to have to make that a rule. No playing with your spit. And I mean it."

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"Nobody puts fish *on* their mashed potatoes!"
"I do, it's called 'fishatos.'"

It's My Birthday Today! Gifts for me and you.

Today I am 46 years old. The family is going to celebrate by going to see "Kung Fu Panda" and then going to my favorite Chinese restaurant.

In the inevitable fashion of the blogosphere, I'll bet that some of you want to wish me a happy birthday. Thank you very much in advance.

I'd like you to give me a gift (aren't I greedy?). I'm hoping that you'll enjoy giving it to me.

Please, can you gift me with a link to your favorite recipe? I even promise I'll try it and write up a review with a link. Can be from your site or anywhere. Only one rule: No mushrooms please! I really can't eat them. I've had them prepared just for me by a wonderful French chef. I still couldn't choke them down.

I love to cook, but I wouldn't say I'm an expert. I promise to try every recipe you leave for me, even if you post it long after my birthday. Thank you for such a lovely present!

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Now on to my gifts to others!

I have to give a huge thanks to Scary Mommy for giving me my first ever blog award. Isn't it pretty? It's the "Arte y Pico" award, which started with this website (I know, it's in Portuguese). From what I can tell, the original intention of this award is

"dedicated to many who nourish and enrich the spirit and creativity. They see dedication, creativity, camaraderie, joy and above all, ART - much art. I wish that this prize is entertaining to all bloggers who share this space and enrich it a little more each day." ~ Arte Y Pico

The rules accompanying this award are simple;

1. You need to choose 5 blogs you consider deserving of this award for their creativity, design, interesting material, or contribution to the blogging community regardless of language
2. Each award should have the name of the author and a link to her blog to be visited by everyone
3. Each winner should show the award and put the name and link to the blog that presented her with the award.
   
4. The award winner and the one who has given the award should show the Arte Y Pico blog so everyone will know the origin of this award
5. Show these rules

I can think of many blogs that fit the bill, but I really want to give it to the following outstanding artful bloggers. Please visit them!

1. First and foremost, my new favorite blog as of today, The Bouf Kids Have Something To Say. . . This is a multimedia cornucopia of creativity created as a homeschooling project by the wonderful family of BoufMom9, who is an incredible mom of 8. Go visit these kids, see their great artwork, and leave them a kind comment and sign their guestbook with a picture.
2. Leanne Wildermuth: Artist By Nature. I absolutely love her nature pictures and drawings of animals. Beautiful blog to browse through. Take time to look at her whole website. She even has a studio cam.
   
3. Vintage Transfer Finds is my island of sanity and dose of nostalgic bliss. Even if you're not into embroidering dishtowels (what? why not?!?) The pictures she finds and posts are cheerful any day. You'll think fondly of grandma's house when you visit her site.
4. Art is in the eye of the beholder, and sometimes even cooking can be art. Noble Pig, step up to the podium here and get your statuette. Your beautiful illustrated recipes make me drool.
5. Carissa over at Good and Crazy People is the seamstress with the mostest. I love her blog, although I'm nervous that she sucked me onto twitter. She makes marvelous tote bags. I want the scraps from her sewing room floor, her fabrics are so gorgeous.

There you go -- enjoy these great blogs today and don't forget to come back and leave me a recipe.

Wasabi Girl Throws A Tea Party

She decides to put on her pioneer costume from her 4th grade living history project [I made it]. She decides this will be a Raggedy Ann tea party so she gets her Raggedy Ann [I made Raggedy Ann too]. She remembers that pioneers didn't smile in pictures, so she pulls a straight face for my camera. Maybe this is all influenced by the Laura Ingalls Wilder books we're reading.


She spreads out her tea things on her Raggedy Ann Quilt [I made it] and gets out all the Raggedy Anns and Andys in the house [yeah, I make a lot of them].


She begins to drink invisible tea oh-so-demurely with me as Drama Girl pauses in her reading to watch from the couch. The sewing boxes are out because the girls were making new napkins to go with the tea sets.

Jungle Boy shows up and asks if his Build-A-Bear can have tea. He holds out the bear's hat to pour tea into. Drama Girl begins to show her displeasure at sharing the couch. Wasabi Girl begins to chug tea in a rather unladylike manner.

Jungle boy begins to beat Drama Girl with his bear.

Drama Girl grabs his bear, Jungle Boy grabs her book, Wasabi Girl starts chugging invisible tea right out of the teapot.

Complete melee. Mom puts down the camera and sends them all outside. Is it September yet?

Haiku Wednesday IV

Needed a racket

Husband bought the whole outfit
Overkill, daddy.

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It's called risotto
That delicious creamy rice
Not "bunch of maggots."

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Can't stand wii "Boogie"
Daughter always sings same song;
"I'm Fergalicious!"

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Ballet recital
"Hurry up mom! Have to change!"
Only got one shot.

When I said you could sleep outside, I didn't mean

. . .in a tree.

Lunatics.

Move Over Baryshnikov!

If it is possible to actually burst with pride, I think I'm at that bursting point. Last night my son performed in his first ballet recital. He only began taking lessons about five months ago.

The whole event was a land mine of potential disasters. He had three complete costume changes. *Complete* costume changes -- pants, socks, shirt, jacket, shoes, hat. This is my son, who is about as indifferent to the purpose and proper wearing of clothing as any 10 year old boy on the planet. I made him pack and repack his bag of costumes and then I double-checked his packing twice. I had him make a list of every dance and every article of clothing needed for each.

Then there was the mechanics of these complex costume changes. There are only two boys in the entire ballet school, so they got their own dressing room at the auditorium -- a broom closet. A pretty dirty one at that. A broom closet that looked like it was just waiting for a little boy to drop a sock so it could be lost forever in a dusty corner.

All the other dressing rooms were full of scantily clad girls and women. "Keep your eyes down," I told him, "they're not used to having boys around so they just change in the halls." I'm sure if he were older the prospect would be intriguing, at least, but to a 10 year old, the whole thing was just terrifyingly embarrassing.

To add to his nervous state, he had to wear makeup. I'll just say one word: stoic. The loveliest ballerina in the school put it on him. Stoic, just stoic. I think he should have had a big round of applause then and there. Are you sympathizing with this poor boy yet?

After all these challenges, he almost shrugged off the fact that the whole thing was being filmed for a DVD. Whatever he did on stage would be seen forever by all the families that buy it.

The curtain went up, the little tiny ballerinas came out and did their thing, and the audience settled in for a typical ballet recital experience. Then he came on stage, serious and obviously concentrating. He looked so small, and he stood out in his boy costume among all the tutus.

Then he smiled. He actually started to smile. I started breathing, realizing I had stopped. He got into it. The audience could tell he was enjoying it. Over and over he had little solo leaps and turns in front of the girls. He kept flashing that smile and I think I was probably smiling a lot at that point too. It was wonderful. He beamed when I handed him flowers later after the show.

He loves ballet right now, but if he decides tomorrow he is done, I'll support that decision too. As the mom, it's my job to worry. I hope the world treats him the way he deserves and doesn't label him. I hope he never gives up something he loves because he feels 'different' or 'wrong' to do it. I'd be lying if I didn't say I hope he gets a scholarship someday. But most of all, I hope he keeps smiling.

How to Get Free Wii Games

We have six new free wii games in our house today.

Before last Christmas, the only game system this family had was an Atari Flashback 2.0 that I got my husband for a joke.

Then Santa brought us a wii and our lives haven't been the same.

We live near Electronic Arts, in fact my husband used to do some contract work there. A few months ago I found an ad on Craigslist asking for game testers. I finally signed us up and yesterday we went to play.

We had to sign lengthy non-disclosure agreements so I'm not going to tell you about the game we tested. I will say it was fun to noodle around with a work in progress and find bugs for them. After an hour of play we completed questionaires and discussed what we liked and didn't like. Once they got kids talking about games it was impossible to shut them up. Some kids (and adults too) thought up all kinds of wild and funny enhancements. Drama Girl went on and on.

Then we were paid for our efforts -- in our choice of wii games! We each got to take one. The kids are ecstatic. Drama Girl got Boogie (Microphone Included) Jungle Boy got Boom Blox Wasabi Girl picked Playground I grabbed Smarty Pants: Trivia for Everyone and my husband took The Simpsons Game. That should hold us for a while!

The sad thing is, I'd saved up our member coupons from Best Buy to get my husband a Father's Day gift: We Ski. I've had it hidden away for a few weeks. I think we might have actually reached the point where we have too many games.

Anybody want to come over and play?

(If you live in the San Francisco Bay Area and want to participate, watch Craigslist. EA runs these testing sessions all the time.)

Summer Reading for Overachievers

Summer's here, and my book-buying disease has flared up to meet it. I'm a bargain-hunter, and lucky to live in a neighborhood where my neighbors read good books and instantly drop them off at the local thrift store. Their $26 investment is my $1 steal. The stack in the picture doesn't look too bad, unless I tell you that it's only the overflow from a long shelf of unread books. I intend to read all of them, but maybe not this summer.

My kids have inherited the good half of my book-consumption gene. They actually read every book that interests them. Jungle Boy and Drama Girl in particular, read to the point of obsession. We're talking multiple books in a day. Sounds like a good problem until it's yours. I've had to take books away because they got in the way of participating with the family or eating a meal. I've had to make rules like "Don't read while you're walking" and when the Harry Potter craze got out of control, I had to lay down the law "No reading Harry Potter in the house." It made them put on their shoes and get some fresh air as they took their books outside. Mine are the kids who read under the covers with a flashlight.

I rarely read aloud to the kids these days, unless it's to entice Drama Girl to read Dickens. I wanted to figure out a way to continue our shared reading experience though, so I asked the kids to make a list of books they thought I should read. For those, like me who haven't read children's literature lately, I can tell you that there seem to be a lot more great books for young people than when I was young and haunting the library. My kids came up with a list of about 30 books that they can't believe I haven't read yet.

The first book I've started is from Wasabi Girl's list and I have actually read it before. "Little House in the Big Woods." It's better than I remember. It's like an old friend. I'll probably finish it today and start on Matilda, from Drama Girl's list.

Pass the Almond Roca, it's summer reading time.

The Undertwo kids Recommended Reading List

They keep telling me more, so check back. I've included a link on the sidebar under my own reading list.

Alcatraz Versus The Evil Librarians

The Anybodies

The Book of Three (The Chronicles of Prydain) Series

The City of Ember (The First Book of Ember) Series

Eragon (Inheritance) Series

Fablehaven Series

The Fairy Tale Detectives (The Sisters Grimm, Book 1) Series

The Field Guide (The Spiderwick Chronicles, Book 1) Series

Frindle

The Golden Compass (His Dark Materials, Book 1) Series

Here Lies the Librarian

Ida B: . . . and Her Plans to Maximize Fun, Avoid Disaster, and (Possibly) Save the World

The Lightning Thief (Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Book 1) Series

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (The Chronicles of Narnia) Series. Read this one first, or join the ongoing raging debate at our house about what order to read these books.

Little House in the Big Woods (Little House) Series

Loch

The Looking Glass Wars Series

Matilda

Pictures of Hollis Woods

The Twits

The Westing Game (Puffin Modern Classics)

Elementary School: Our Parting Shot

School's finally out for the year. The twins said farewell to their elementary days and I almost didn't cry. Just like I almost didn't cry on their first day of kindergarten there.

It's hard to leave a place we've loved so well. The little school down the street will always be a fond memory. Except for one little thing, for which I got my revenge today.

Thursday is our day to be "morning greeters" who open car doors and help keep traffic moving smoothly on the school cul-de-sac. This has been my purpose in life for the past nine months: to train the nitwit drivers to pull all the way forward to drop their little darlings in front of the school. There is a staircase at the entrance to the cul-de-sac and many people stop their cars there, oblivious to all the cars piling up behind them in the intersection. You have to believe me, it was a nightmare when people did this. Some even parked their cars and walked with their kids, ignoring the numerous "No Parking" signs.

So on the first day of school I took the initiative and had the twins stand out there with me with handmade signs that read "Please Pull Forward" and "Don't Stop Here." We waved them forward and took turns opening car doors and greeting them at the correct spot. Our signs caught on, and all the morning greeters started using them.

We volunteered to greet every Thursday, and through rain and cold and rough weather, we've been there, waving our arms to get people to pull forward. Some drivers are so oblivious it took them months to get with the system, even with the Principal helping us. The signs finally fell apart, but the drop-off situation has improved dramatically.

And then today, we held out signs again. I'm just so done with this morning greeter gig. So Wasabi Girl and I made a list of what we really wanted to say, and she printed them beautifully on signs. I wish I'd gotten a picture of them in their safety patrol vests. The signs we held today said;

• Go Ahead! Make a Traffic Jam!
• Let Your Kid Off Anywhere!
• Don't Pull Forward!
• Park Your Car Sideways!
• We're Just Waving Our Arms For Fun!
• Stop Anywhere, See If We Care.

To their credit, every single driver laughed. Many rolled down their windows and thanked us for being morning greeters. Some told me they'd miss me. I'll miss them too.

Nothing like going out with a laugh.

Sometimes Moms Get Report Cards Too

It's almost the last day of school and on Wednesday Wasabi Girl brought home a huge bag of accumulated school work. She had me sit on the couch with her as she proudly displayed each of the hundreds of items one by one. Tests, art projects, spelling sheets. My eyes were glazing over a bit, but then something caught my eye. An essay. Since she typed it at school I asked her if I could have it and retype it and put it in my blog. She gave me her permission, so here it is. She's 10 years old.

"My Hero"

Most people know of famous heroes but I know a far better hero than any other. She cares a lot about me and is supportive of everything I do. She teaches me all the things I need to know and more. This caring, supportive, teaching hero is my mom.

My mom cares very strongly about me. She feeds me healthy and delicious foods. For lunch, my mom always packs the same 5 categories: snack, crunchy (goldfish, crackers, pretzels), fruit, vegetable, and sandwich (usually peanut butter and jelly). For dinner, my mom cooks a gourmet meal that usually includes a cooked vegetable such as green beans. My mother also makes sure I am prepared and have what I need. She washes my sports uniforms so I’m ready. She buys me supplies for the new school year. Lastly, she makes soft quilts to keep me warm at night.

My caring mother is very supportive of all my interests. She comes to almost all of my softball games and gymnastics shows. Whether it’s boiling hot or freezing cold my mom almost always attends to my hobbies. After softball games, she waits for me as I zoom to the snack shack to get candy. Then, I share my Milky Way with her. My mom also goes to all of my piano tests and recitals. She bought me a guitar to let me go further in music. Now, I’m teaching myself to play the guitar. Mommy loves my music and is always happy to play a duet.

This caring, supportive hero has taught me many interesting things. She taught me old events from when she was a kid. Once during breakfast, mom told me about a famous astronomer. She set off into space then, all of a sudden; the spaceship blew up into a giant fireball! Mommy also told me about how she used to know all the names of the spaceships and how traveling to space happened all the time on TV. Then she went on Utube to find out more and show me. My mom also tells me daily news and extra facts that are just fun to know. One day she told me about an earth safe sports car. It was green and made in San Carlos. Another time there was a big fire in San Diego. The hot winds fanned the fire making it bigger. Also there was an oil spill from an oil ship. Last of all, she home schooled me in a brief part of kindergarten. She taught my brother, sister, and me all about bears. Home school was also fun, though. Sometimes mommy would print out puzzles or coloring pages. Once, my siblings and I each wrote a short story and mom typed it.

My mom is the most amazing hero who ever lived. I greatly appreciate her in every way.

************************************

She got an "A". I think I did too.

Haiku Wednesday III

"Thanks for breakfast dear!"
said she, silently vowing
To post egg mess on blog.

Need to clean out car
kids drink up bottled water
Then they roll around.

Sex in the City
Another party invite
I've never seen show.

Kids found a dead rat
"Mommy can you clean it up?"
"No, that's Daddy's job"

If my cat could talk
She'd say "Thanks for the skylight!
I can has sunbeam!"

Rest In Peace, Papou

I'm writing this before the funeral today.

Papou is the Greek word for grandfather. It's a perfect word for small mouths to make as they are learning to talk. It matches the big smiling funny guy who wears it. My kids were lucky to know their Papou for as long as they did, and so was I.

He was old country and old school. What he believed became truth and anyone who disagreed with him just didn't understand things clearly yet. I learned early on to avoid conversations about politics.

He came to America in 1947 with his brother and was forced to study engineering instead of the business degree he craved. Many years later he went back and got that degree. His life's journey wasn't an easy one, and it's taught me a lot about the determination of those who came to America and made it a better place.

We've been going through a lot of pictures lately, to make a collage to display at the funeral. 50 year old pictures, yellowed with time, capturing faint moments but now representing years in a life. Travels around the globe working engineering jobs, a young stylish wife and two small children in tow. Contented smiles around a dinner table with friends, displaying the traditional Christmas morning attire of a new necktie over pajamas.

Then there are the stacks of newer pictures. A dozen smiling poses at his son's wedding, which was my wedding. And finally, the Papou grins. The smile one gets when they hold grandchildren in their hands.

I'm crying now, and I don't really know where I wanted to go with this post, except to say goodbye Papou, we love you.

Too Much Laundry, Not Enough Lit

Everything at our house has been off-kilter this week. Some of us have been grieving my father-in-law's death, some of us have been cooking. Some of us have not been in the mood to cook. My husband has taken the week off work to help my mother-in-law settle arrangements. It's usually fun when he's home, but there are dark clouds of sadness around him now. We've made a lot of phone calls to old friends to let them know. So many happy yet sad moments reconnecting.

This will be the last week of school and the flurry of activities involved with that has me drained. The twins are "graduating" from fourth grade and are getting ready for middle school next year (don't get me started on the overuse of the term 'graduation' - to me it should only apply to high school and college).

Drama Girl and Jungle Boy have their ballet recital this coming weekend, with all the attendant rehearsals and dress rehearsals and costume fittings.

As the mom, it's my job to worry. Why aren't the twins showing any signs of grief yet? Does the PTA have enough volunteers for field day? Who else do I need to recruit for the middle school PTA board? Will the rest of Jungle Boy's ballet costumes be ready in time? What's for dinner? What will Father's Day be like now that the patriarch of the family has just died? Does Wasabi Girl have something black to wear to the funeral? Are kids expected to wear black? Do all my tutors know when the last day of school is? Does anybody else need me right now?

Routines are falling by the wayside and we're all just rolling with it. But oddly for me, I'm not stressing out. Somehow everything will fall into place. What I really miss are my quiet times just to read or embroider. So I tell myself that in a week everything will be different and all of this will be behind us. Then it will be my chance to have more lit and less laundry.

That's Me: Lone Beacon of Reason in a Sea of Ridiculousness

Take the Quiz here!

You are Elizabeth Bennet of Pride & Prejudice! You are intelligent, witty, and tremendously attractive. You have a good head on your shoulders, and oftentimes find yourself the lone beacon of reason in a sea of ridiculousness. You take great pleasure in many things. You are proficient in nearly all of them, though you will never own it. Lest you seem too perfect, you have a tendency toward prejudgement that serves you very ill indeed.

*snort*

I'm Elizabeth Bennet, if Miss Bennet was known for wielding a big honking leaf blower to clean all the oak leaves out of the rose beds.

I'm E.B. if she tended to kick her shoes off and have a beer by the barbecue at the end of a Saturday spent gardening.

I'm E.B. if she wore a tee-shirt all day that said "Walt Disney Internet Group" on it.

I do take great pleasure in many things, and I am proficient in nearly all of them, to wit; Bejewelled, Diner Dash, Zoo Tycoon, Mario Kart. . .

I am certainly not one to prejudge, although I am of the opinion that every other driver in the parking lot of the middle school must have learned how to drive within the last fortnight at most. I can only hold their lack of deportment and good judgment as proof of their inexperience in the matter.

I'll own that my family can be a 'sea of ridiculousness' but the rest of it is not like me at all. Very funny little quiz. Who are you?

Things My Husband Says While Reading My Blog

"Heh heh, that's something you'd say. . .hey wait, did you start a blog? Is this your blog?"

"Are those our roses?" (Yes, and if you'd turn your chair you'd see them out the window)

"Why do you call her Wasabi Girl?" (She is a gastronomic daredevil. Once when she was about 2 we went to a party where the host had a bowl of those Japanese snacks that included wasabi-covered peas. She stood there and picked them all out and ate them before I caught her. I thought she would be sick but she just wanted more.)

"You don't like flowers?" (No, I've never cared much for bouquets or baskets. The cats get into them. I'd really rather have a plant.)

"Are you making money? Don't you make money every time someone just clicks on those Amazon ads?" (a big no on that one, and that wasn't why I started it)

"That's nice" (translation: I'll never bother to read it again so go ahead with your little hobby.)

Ballet Class 9 Times a Week

I'm always kidding around, especially when I'm trying to get the kids' attention. One morning in late January, Jungle Boy was spinning around the house. And I mean spinning. I could see an accident waiting to happen. So being a smarty-mouth mom, I said "If you don't stop that, I'm going to enroll you in ballet!"

[brief pause, as he stopped spinning and thought a moment] "Why not?"

"I was joking! [pause, while I think a moment] Would you want to take ballet?"

"Why not?"

Fast forward a day. He has gone to observe a class with a boy in it. We have gone to two different ballet shops to find him appropriate attire. I sit him down for a talk and explain that I'm not going to recommend taking or not taking ballet. This has to be 100% his decision. I don't ever want him to say that his mother made him do it. If, however, he decides to take it, he only has a brief time to change his mind before the recital. Once the dances get choreographed, he can't leave his teacher in the lurch. After the June recital, he's free to quit if he wants to.

So he tried a class. From the moment he put his hand on the barre it was as if he was born to it. I guess this is the part where I should confess I taught ballet long ago. To the UNLV football team among others, but that's another story. This is his story.

He's taken gymnastics since he was about 3 and for 2 years he was a competitive gymnast. When it got to the point where he was 9 years old and going to the gym for 11 hours/week, he was the one who said it was too much, and I agreed. It's a great, athletic life, but gymnastics can take over a young life completely. The Russian coaches got him down when by always emphasizing what he did wrong. It was more work and pain than fun. He backed off to a recreational class.

Once he started ballet class, everything began to snowball. He is good. I'm trying to say that as an impartial ballet teacher and not just a mother, but we're allowed to brag. His teacher not only saw it though, she kept adding more classes - "why don't you try this next level too?" Until now he's simultaneously taking 3 levels, each twice a week, and a private lesson. This was all the teacher's idea. I have made it a point to never push, never suggest, never help him decide.

He just has perfect balance and form and oh, man, is he beautiful to watch, even if he's only 10 years old. All that gymnastics is paying off I guess.

Now he's doing tour jetes and pirouettes. He's got 7 ballet classes a week, and Drama Girl joins him for 2. I just get in the car and it drives itself to the ballet school, sometimes whether I want to go there or not.

I had visions of him coming home from school with a bloody nose from kids bullying him. It's never happened. Are we more enlightened these days, or are the girls in his class at school who are also in his ballet class just very good about keeping his secret?

I can't wait until the recital on Father's Day weekend when we see him in about 6 different dances. He has a bunch of little solo moments and even a brief pas de deux with his sister. After only 4 months of study, he's making his stage debut in a big way.

I think my son is the bravest kid I know.

I think I feel a Pride and Prejudice evening coming on

My husband just shakes his head. He'll never understand

Sometimes, a woman just has to put the kids to bed and spend some quality time with Mr. Darcy.

I know I'm not alone.

You too, are a fan, if you know exactly what they're saying here:

Cookie Therapy and Something to Laugh About

(written Tuesday night)

Drama Girl didn't make it to school today. God bless her, she had some cry time up in her private spot on her top bunk. Broke my heart but we all have to go through it.

When she showed up later in the kitchen, she decided she just really wanted to bake cookies. She's never made cookies before but she insisted she wanted to do it all by herself. Is there some gene that makes women want to bake when the people they love are grieving? My husband is the cookie monster around here and I think we're all sensitive to his pain.

So she baked. Fabulous peanut butter cookies. And I didn't interfere, which is saying a lot for me because I usually hover like heck when my kids are in the kitchen. It was a gift from her. I don't know who got more therapy from it - Drama Girl, or me, watching her and thinking my heart would burst with love.

Sometime in the past I told my husband that I want to be buried in a simple pine coffin. When my mother in law and I were talking on the phone yesterday it came up again as we were discussing personal taste in burial. Later, when my husband went with her to pick coffins, they saw a pine one and both blurted out "there's [threeundertwo's] coffin!" and burst out laughing. Glad I could offer a little levity! Glad they found one for me. Then apparently they discussed buying coffins at Costco - where would you store it? (Honestly - go to Costco.com and search on "coffin")

Tonight Drama Girl was supposed to sing in a massive school choral concert. Her heart wasn't there and I wrote a note to the teacher that this just wasn't going to happen. The whole family curled up on the couch together instead to watch "Enchanted" and have popcorn and fruit for dinner. And cookies - fresh baked peanut butter cookies.

One day at a time. I can't thank everybody enough for all the kind wishes. It means a lot to me right now.

Grief Hurts

My father-in-law died yesterday morning. Probably the way he would have wanted to go; a massive, sudden heart attack at home. He probably didn't even know what was happening. I'm sure he would have chosen that over a long lingering decline.

Last weekend he made the long car trip to L.A. to see his daughter happily married. I think he was holding out for that. I think he finished the last chapter of his life with joy. I know he loved the kids and loved seeing them grow. He liked to play backgammon with Jungle Boy and do math quizzes with Wasabi Girl.

My mother-in-law is practical and industrious and doing what she needs to do. My husband was at a conference in Las Vegas and came home yesterday evening. His newly married sister was on her honeymoon and will cut it short to fly home from Paris today.

When the kids came home from school I had to break the news. Is there any harder conversation than telling your kids that a beloved grandfather is dead?

And I am here to keep the home fires burning. To feed and hug and cry in the shower, because that's where I cry.

Home. Everybody home. It's the theme for this month's NaBloPoMo. I didn't think this is what I would write about.

Adventures with Mr. Quiet

No, this is not a post about my son (if only!).

I've started working as a substitute teacher. I've had quite a few different jobs in my life but none of them scare me quite like this one. I applied for it after a dozen emails came from the school district begging people to join the substitute ranks. I was also feeling sorry for our Principal who was never in his office because he was always in a classroom teaching.

Our district is a charter district, so technically they can set their own criteria for hiring. Subs do not need a credential, just a Bachelor's Degree. I'm a mom with a pulse and a sheepskin so they figure somehow I'm perfect for the job.

My first call was last Monday for a third grade class. I read the "Dear Sub" letter the teacher had left on the desk:

"This class can be very good or very noisy. You need to separate this one and this one and this one. This one is a special needs student and he will have an aide in class. Here is today's lesson plan. . ." It went on for FOUR pages. I couldn't even read it all before the first bell rang. I was doomed.

I had been so nervous about the job that earlier in the day I had grilled my kids (I have to stop a moment and laugh at that phrase, ironic because I started writing this blog when they wouldn't stop talking bout cannibalism) on what made a good or bad substitute. Drama Girl said the worst subs said "shhh" all the time, Wasabi girl insisted that bad handwriting made for bad subs, and Jungle Boy told me that the best sub had a Scottish accent, so I should just talk with a Scottish accent all day and I'd be fine.

Well, my Scottish accent isn't very good, so I couldn't rely on that, and my handwriting is pretty neat on paper but maybe not so great up on a white board, so I decided to dedicate my brief prep time to an anti-shushing strategy.

I grabbed this toy before I left for school and prayed for success.

The little angels were tough crowd. One of the first activities of the morning was tearing off a calendar page to reveal the number of school days left in the year. 13. Lucky me. These kids already had summer brain. I took attendance and a deep breath.

Then I played my hand. "This is Mr. Quiet. He wants to come meet all of you, but he's scared of loud noises. If you're very quiet, he'll come sit on your desk." As expected, the girls' eyes lit up, but the boys pretended not to care much. There were two boys in particular who just could not keep quiet. I put Mr. Q down on a desk and started through the lessons. We got through math and spelling and Mr. Q traveled to a few more quiet desks. He was watched. He was anticipated.

Handwriting time. I had to demonstrate a capital cursive "V" on the white board. From what I could tell in the handwriting textbook, it looks just like a capital "U" only slightly skinnier, and without a tail going back down to the line. It's not even pointy - just a narrow curve at the bottom. I think the sweat was dripping off my forehead as I tried to make consistent VVVs across the board. None of them looked alike. The poor kids. They'll make wonky V's all their lives now.

Mr Quiet moved from desk to desk. The kids were amazingly quiet, except for the two boys, who were just blurters. Had to blurt. Could not raise their hands to answer a question. One of them started asking why Mr. Quiet never visited his desk.

Story time down on the rug. Instructions said I was to read "Two Bad Ants" and I could choose another book if time permitted. Time did permit so I pulled out an old battered book I'd brought along: "No Such Thing" by Bill Peet. I explained it was Mr. Quiet's favorite book. The kids roared with laughter. It is a very funny book. Mr. Quiet was getting a lot of hugs by this point, and almost all of the boys had raised their hands for a chance to host him.

Then I followed the lesson plans and we talked about the elements of a good story. I loved it. Teaching kids in third grade to be good writers. I got pretty enthusiastic. Then I sent them back to their desks with their writing journals (old school blogs?) to write a story.

Five kids wrote about Mr. Quiet. I had them read them aloud. Priceless. I heard all about Mrs. Quiet (who knew?) and another story about Mr Quiet's adventures with Mr. Shy. I completely fell in love with these kids. All the stories were great.

I could go on and on about the challenging science experiments, PE etc, but the most important thing to me is that by the end of the day the 2 blurters each got a turn to have Mr. Quiet.

As the bell rang and kids filed out, I got some spontaneous high-5s from the boys and hugs from the girls. I was exhausted, but mission accomplished.

Today while you're reading this I'm subbing in a fourth grade class. In science they are learning sex ed. Oh my. I don't think I have a stuffed toy that's going to help me get through this one. . .

Show and Tell

Sometimes I get crafty. Here are the Rock and Roll tea towels I embroidered for my sister-in-law's wedding shower:

Here is the wedding quilt I designed and made for her. It's full of cool quotes about love and marriage:


Here's a close-up, and the back:


Today I continued my hunt for a trench coat for Drama Girl's costume for her next play "Get Smart." While I was at the thrift store, I didn't find a coat, but I did find a sugar bowl which begged to be turned into yet another pin cushion in my collection:

But I'm not the only crafty one in the family. Here is Drama Girl, working in her medium of choice - pull-out posters from pre-teen fan mags - to create personal space on the top bunk: