I Hate Winter

Here it is, November 11th, at 4:00 in the afternoon and it is GREY and looking like dusk out there. AHHHH. Why did my ancestors decide that Montana was the place to be??? Did they like to be cold? Did they have an overabundance of vitamin D??? Where they masochistic?? Who knows. All I know is that I wish I had a rich friend who lived in Hawaii who was just dying to buy me a ticket to visit right now....

Where is my Hawaiian friend?

The Forty Dollar Goldfish

So, I was reading through some old blogs of mine, when I noticed the one about when my goldfish Fred died. I had just bought him a goldfish wife, who we hadn't named yet. She got the unfortunate name of "Fred's Widow" when he died within days of her purchase. I am sure she didn't care though.

What she might have cared about is the fact that by early winter I still had not taken her out of our little front yard pond. I would peek in now and then and say such things as,"I hope that little fish is okay!" or, "Hmm. I am afraid her chances INSIDE are much worse than this ice encrusted pond". I, after all, had unintentially murdered at least six of her goldfish brethren the winter before in an attempt to keep them alive inside. My lesson was learned. Rachel is a fish killer. But an apologetic one.

My brother Danny heard about my poor little fish one day when I was wondering out loud how long a fish can be frozen solid and yet still come back to life at Spring. Danny is good with fish. He manages to keep them alive for long periods of time. Clearly not a family trait. He volunteered to take my little goldfish into his fishtank, where he gave Fred's widow a lovely home for many months.

About a month ago she wore out her welcome. She grew ENORMOUSLY under his loving care. She is the size of an edible perch. Not only that, but she had taken to the charming habit of eating Danny's other fish. As snacks. It was time for Fred's Widow to come home.

I picked her up last weekend, determined not to kill her after the love and attention my bro put into keeping her alive. It is again too cold to put her in the pond, and she is much too big for a bowl. I had to buy a tank. Equipped with filter and heater. Fred's Widow is now living large (for a fifty cent goldfish bought with the intent of keeping another goldfish company who died within DAYS of her purchase...). And that is how my fifty cent goldfish turned into a forty dollar goldfish.

Some Nuggets of Life

Since I haven't posted a blog for a long while, and I have a couple of minutes to kill this morning, I've decided to tell a little of what is going on in my life. I will also share a couple little nuggets of wisdom that I possess that I didn't just a few short weeks ago.

First for a nugget of truth: if you ever decide to wash your crocs (you know, the little colorful, elfin shoes you see on everyone these days), and you decide that washing them in the washing machine is the way to go, do NOT dry them in the dryer afterwards. I recently tried this maneuver on Derrin's blue crocs, and when they came out they literally could only fit a real elf. Too short for a seven year old's foot and yet far too wide for a two year old child's foot, I believe the only place these shoes would really belong is as a jaunty novelty item in my flower garden.

Now for something that is new in my life: both my children are in school now! For the first time in eight year I now have a lot of long periods of silence throughout my day. I know I should be more sentimental about my baby being old enough to be in kindergarden, BUT, the correct adjective for me is a juxteposition of both jubulant and mellow (in a good way). Things are running a little more smoothly for me, for instance, it is only 10:30 in the morning and my house is already clean and it will REMAIN that way until at least 3:20. That, my sisters, is celebration worthy. In my own defense, I have to say that Kloe was not one of those clingy little ones who couldn't bear to leave her mommy either. There was one brief moment on the first real day of school when I walked her into the playground to find the right line of kindergardeners to get into when I could tell we both were feeling some sad emotions. Just as I spotted her line, she hugged me fiercely and said,"Momma, I am going to MISS you today!!" I admit, I got a little choked up. I was about to say something reassuring back to her, when she saw her teacher. Before the words had even left my mouth, my baby girl had broke and run for me to her teacher and had assumed hugging her instead. She never even looked back! She got into the front of the line, all the while gazing adoringly at her teacher. I went up to her, made her hug me goodbye, and walked to the middle of the playground where I watched the line until they all disappeared into the school. I admit I was a little teary eyed. That lasted all until I got to my favorite little coffee shop where I ordered my favorite coffee without ANY shouting in the background about hot chocolate or muffins. Just the sweet smell of coffee, the sound of the radio, and my own thoughts to entertain. Jubilant and mellow.

Now for the second little nugget that I have learned: all the stuff I have been blaming on the kids for the last couple years, like "I can't work out until the kids are in school" or "the reason it takes me so long to clean the house and do the laundry is because of the constant distraction of the KIDS"... well, it turns out that is not so true. The kids have been in school for almost two weeks, and how many times have I gone to the gym? Nada, not even once! Tomorrow is the beginning day, I am just sure of it. And as for the house... well, yes, it is clean this morning. But my confession for that is that we are in the middle of trying to sell the house, and at 8:30 this morning our realator called me and said we are having people coming over to see the house at 10:30. I flew into high gear and got done what would have taken me most of the day normally because... turns out the real problem is that I am easily distracted if I don't have some heavy duty reason to get the job done in an expediant fashion. Not the kids fault at all.

Besides all of that, what has been going on in my life? You may want to know how my momma is doing. She is doing much better. We had another nasty experience with chemo this summer and she got really sick again, but things are definately on the upturn, which is a great relief:)

Also, I've been able to continue my photography, and hope to keep doing more with it. We have our new website up at amberdragonfly.net, which I am really happy about. We have a bunch more pictures waiting to go into the gallery, which should happen soon- our programmer is a pretty busy guy so we have to wait for him to get a little bit of free time.

So, that is me in a nutshell right now. I miss all you guys, and hope to either see you or get to hear from you soon!!!

Lady and the Shrimp

First of all, I am back home. Yeah. So very happy. Actually, the sun is shining and it is kinda pretty out there.

The night before we left Manzanillo (nice transition, huh?), Derrick, Tia and I went out for one last dinner in Mexico. We went to a restaurant on the beach called "Charlie's Place". Our waiter was Rico Suave, smooth as silk, with love in his eye for my sis-in-law, an affinity for calling me "Lady", as if that were my name, and an expertise in ignoring my husband, except for when it was time to give him the bill at the end.

There was a moment during the meal that should have made my ears tingle or my intuition spark, or just somehow should have made me question the wisdom of eating my meal.

I had drank two Mishaladas (Corona with a lotta lime juice) by the time I ordered the garlic shrimp. Derrick ordered fajitas, and Tara ordered Orange Shrimp. I have to say, my meal was delicious- huge shrimp for around 100 pesos.

When Rico came around for the "How good is it" check up, he hovered around Tia for a couple minutes, chatting about this and that (she is fluent in Spanish, so I have no idea what they were talking about), and then he asked her in english how she liked her meal. She replied that it was good. He didn't even bother asking Derrick about his meal. He turned his attention to me for one second, "So Lady, how is YOUR meal?" I replied that it was delicious.

And then the "shoulda got my attention moment" happened. He stopped, looked me in the eye and said, "Really??" and I don't mean as in "really, I am happy your food is good", but more as in"REALLY? What a complete and utter surprise, I was pretty sure we were going to be carting you out of here in a body bag... cuz that is what I usually aim for in my LADIES..." But, the shrimp was REALLY good... so when he left our table, I teased Tia about about him for a second, mocked how he had said "Really?!?" to me, and scarfed down the whole meal. I practically licked the plate. I'm pretty sure I stole a couple of Tia's shrimp when she wasn't looking.

Enter two o'clock in the morning when I am tossing and turning, dreaming about weird things happening in my stomach. You know that horrible moment when you awake a night a realise that it is going to be ONE OF THOSE NIGHTS. Oh no. I laid really still for awhile. But then I realised that there was no fighting it. I gave myself over to the Beast of Food Poisoning.

I will spare you the details. I'm pretty sure you've all been there. By the next morning I was a wrung out rag of a Lady, who will not be eating shrimp again any time soon.

Poor Derrick had to do all of our packing for the trip home (Kathrine packed for the kids, THANK YOU KATHRINE!!!). Derrick and Tia (maybe her shrimp was from a different pot?) went to the pharmicia and got me some medicine to help me make the two flights home.

We left for the airport at 1:30 and I drug on through the next 10 hours by laying on benches in the airport with my head on Derrick's lap, sleeping with my head on Dave's shoulder during the flights (Derrick was on kid patrol), and basically just being in survival mode til we got home. I have to say, I wouldn't have made it without Derrick, Dave, Kathrine and Tia carrying me along.

So to conclude my story, I lived. And I really am glad to be home!

My Bum in the Sun

One of the first rules you hear about in Mexico is don..t drink the water. One of the second rules probably might be: don..t eat sushi in ....Mexico..... We just went to Senor Sushi..s. The only one I could talk into going with me was Derrick, and he swears it will be the last crazy food expedition he will ever go on with me (that goes against his gut instinct) if we both end up sick tonight with food poisoning. The Miso soup was to DIE for. I took pictures, don..t you worry.
The thing is, that while I love ..Mexico.. (more specifically I love ME in ....Mexico....), I can not tolerate the food down here very well. Every time we eat out I get semi-sick. We have spent most of the week shopping for groceries and just eating at home for that very reason. I have eaten real Mexican fare exactly two times here, and both times my stomach was not loving me. We actually ate at a Burger King here. How lame is that? I even hate that place in the states. ....

We went deep sea fishing Thursday. It was a first for me. We caught a lot of "little" Bonitas (actually they were around 14 or ..15 inches..), and then David Jr. and Sr. both reeled in one Mahi Mahi each. They are BEAUTIFUL. They are BIG. They were both at least three or four feet long. I caught one of the Bonitas and then retired to the top of the boat where I drank a lot of beer and fell asleep in the sun. I burned quite nicely, especially my legs, and more specifically my knees. Ow!....

Besides all that, there has been a lot of bumming around in the sun. There was more going on at the beach today since it is Saturday. There was even a guy selling homemade ice cream cones! The only thing that would make it more perfect is if all my amigas were here to enjoy it with me. Miss you guys. Our time is almost up here. We are flying back on Tuesday, so I better finish soaking up the sun while I can.....

A Mexican Girl Who Only Speaks English

So here we are in an internet café in Manzanillo, listening so some crazy loud music coming from the alley way. My sisinlaw Tia and I are out on the town this afternoon. That should scare you because of the fact that I am the driver. Driving in Missoula is challenging enough for me- I get in near death experiences there all the time, and I even know all of the traffic rules. We have nearly died at least three times today. We are only alive due to the fact that the people here have been kind and allowed us to live. That is not to say that we have not been honked at and screamed at in Spanish. I, however, choose to believe that they are screaming encouragement, as in "Please, my dear beautiful gringa, be careful!!! You have so much to live for."
The house we are staying in is AWESOME. It is right on the beach. It is so close to the beach that we here waves lapping against the shore at night while we are in our beds. There is a housekeeper.She does LAUNDRY.I think I love her. There is a little swimming pool between the house and the beach, so when the kids aren..t playing in the sand and ocean, they are jumping in the pool over and over and …. Over.We are MAKING Derrin get out and actually drink and eat today. He didn..t drink anything yesterday, and by last night he was so dehydrated he looked like he had two black eyes.

Last night Kloe put on her little orange dress I bought her in Mexico last year.She was dancing around the pool singing,"I am a Mexican girl!! Mexicaaaaannnn Guuurrrrrrllll".She stopped in front of her uncle David and said ,"I am a Mexican girl.Am I pretty?"Too which he agreed, she is indeed a pretty Mexican girl. So she asked him to teach her SpanishSo he first told her how to say "Good Morning". Buenos Dias. She mastered it easily. She was indeed a Mexican girl. So he proceed on to "See you later. Hasta Luego. Turns out not so easy. She started,"asta lugo...esta legoand then stopped, looked up at David and said,"I am a Mexican girl. A Mexican girl who only speaks English".All I can say to that is AMEN and ME TOO.

red crayons and pickles

So, here I am, sitting in my robe (it's already 11:30 and I'm still not even dressed, although I am showered), and there is a gigantic, disgusting mess waiting to be cleaned up on the kitchen floor, and a daughter in the bathtub. I will tell you more about that later.

Packing for any vacation is always a dreaded chore for me. I was never good at doing it for myself (all that planning! oh dread...), but add to that the chaos of trying to get ready for anything with and for kids, and you might as well just shoot me now. Everything is a struggle. Nothing goes right.

Last night, just trying to get through the laundry was impossible. My last load of jeans was in the dryer, and I was feeling triumphant because as soon as that was folded I would be more securely in the "packing zone". The thing is, jeans are sometimes a suprise affair for me. I always forget to check the pockets before I start washing, and it has bit me in the behind many times. Yesterday, it was a red crayon. It melted on every single stinking pair of pants I washed, and they were all the good ones I wanted for our trip!!! AAHH!!! It took me over an hour to scrub every little melted scrap out. Thankfully they all came clean, but the incident has set a mood for the whole packing experience (that and my already bad attitude. I know I am a whiner. Sue me.)

So far this morning I have gathered my bathroom stuff together to be packed tomorrow morning, and I have packed my jewlery I plan on using. That is as far as I have gotten because of the pickles. Let me tell you about the pickles.

Kloe woke up this morning in the mood for apple juice and milk. I have neither on hand because I have resisted getting groceries since we are leaving town in the morning. She was not in the mood for oatmeal, toast, cereal, or any of the other items I have on hand. So I went in to take a shower while she decided what she wanted. While I am in the shower, a jar of pickles comes creeping through the shower curtain. Turns out pickles are exactly what she wants for breakfast. I say OK. Pickles are a vegetable right? Very healthy for your average five year old (she turned five yesterday!). So I open the jar for her and send her on her way with strict instructions not to spill the pickles on the carpet.

When I came out of the bathroom, Kloe was sitting on the couch, holding her stomach, saying "I don't feel so good. I feel busy (she meant dizzy)". I look around for the jar of pickles. They are ALL GONE. And most of the juice is too. Oops. Forgot to tell her about the dangers of drinking pickle juice. I know the temptation all to well.

"Do you want some oatmeal honey", I ask, very concerned at this point. "Sure Mommy", she says back, thinking mommy knows what will make her feel better.

Turns out, not such a great idea. As soon as she smelled the oatmeal she started hurling gallons of little chewed up peices of pickles (and egg? How did that get in there?) all over my kitchen floor. Where it remains until I finish this blog (I could either deal with it by writing it down, or just start drinking early. The blog barely won). I could not face it just yet.... but....

Okay. Here I go. I'm rolling up the sleeves to my robe. Maybe sometime today I will actually get to pack.

My Heart

Kloe has been in her room for about the last hour. She is supposed to be cleaning it, but I am pretty much certain that very little is getting done. I get lots of hugs from her when it is time to clean her room. She calls them hug breaks.

She just came out a second ago and told me she should not have to clean her room. I shook my head, rolling my eyes and asked her,"Kloe, why in the world should you not have to clean your own room?"

With the conviction that she has on most things, she emphatically said,"Mommy, my heart is just telling me I don't WANT to!"

Ok. Very Funny Girl.
But she still has to clean her room.

She comes out 10 minutes later with a peice of paper in her hand.

"WHAT are you doing Kloe?" I ask her again, I admit impatiently.

"Well, I have to get my list finished in the kitchen", she says a little sheepishly.

"WHAT LIST???" I say in my usual voice, which always denotes how astounded I am at the lengths she will go through to not clean her room. After all, the girl can not read. Or write. Which makes a list somewhat unnecessary.

"Um... this is my pretend list that tells me what I need to be cleaning in my room."

Okay. She made me laugh again.

But she still has to clean her room.

Bad Mommy!

Last night, while I was reading my book , listening to Clifford the Big Red Dog in the background, I slowly became aware that one of my kids was making a half-crying, half choking noise, while the other one was partly trying to reassure while at the same time unsuccessfully trying not to laugh. Confused and worried, I dropped the book and ran into the kitchen.

Now for a little background info- my scientist/artist Kloe has been into experimenting with foods, and drinks, mixing her candy with her water, trying to make things change color, and also experimenting with what happens when water is put in the freezer. It's awesome how excited she gets when she can change colors or liquidity of water and food. She keeps a bottle of water in the freezer that she will put water in (and sometimes ingrediants to "color" it), and when she remembers she has a frozen treat in there, she is all impressed with her forethought of freezing it. However, it never occurred to me to explain to her some of the dynamics of frozen water.

When I went into the kitchen, Kloes tongue was several inches longer than I had ever known it to be. And stretched out thin enough to be attached to the shrunken ice in the bottle. Of course my heart went out to her! Who would have thunk it? I knew of course that warm water was the antidote. As I went to get a towel and a glass of warm water, I tried SO HARD not to smile. Unfortunately, it was impossible. I tried to hide my face from my poor crying child, but I couldn't hide that I was laughing uncontollably. You would have too I tell you!!! I could her her gasp indignantly into the bottle as I tried to calm down and take a deep cleansing breath before I turned to disconnect the thing from her. Her eyes flared and she bellowed, "Thop Lathing Ath Meh!" Oh my gosh. I am so sorry, I hope I did not scar her forever, but it was one of the funniest things I have ever seen.

The story has a happy ending. The warm water worked it's magic and I earned her forgiveness by cuddling for 30 minutes while we watched more Clifford. But I am pretty sure I still might earn the bad mommy award for that one.

Since I am telling stories on Kloe, I need to add one that happened a couple weeks ago. We were driving home, and had just stopped at Wendy's to grab a bite to eat. Both of the kids had frosties for later, and I had them hold them on the way home. Derrick and I were talking to eachother when suddenly I became aware that there was an impending fight in the backseat. I could hear Kloe sniff and say in an extremely choked up and disgruntled, and accusatory voice,"Derrin, it just really hurts me that yours says YOU are special, and mine doesn't", and then she just dissolved into a heart-rending bout of weeping.

What had said that Derrin was special and not said that she was special? The culprit was.... Wendy's! Rottin Sons Of.... Apparantly Derrin's Frosty Cup said that it was the best frosty for him because he is so special. My son can read now, AND he has the perfect understanding of his sister's fragile feelings that only an older brother can have. All he had to do was point out the cups obvious understanding of how very special he is (and how her cup obviously did not feel the same way about her), and then he just sat back and watched the show.

After much talking and reasoning, I think we convinced her that whatever the cup thought about her, she is still a very special little girl.

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible without surrender

be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly;

and listen to others,

even the dull and the ignorant;

they too have their story.



Avoid loud and aggressive persons,

they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,

you may become vain and bitter;

for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.



Keep interested in your own career, however humble;

it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs;

for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;

many persons strive for high ideals;

and everywhere life is full of heroism.



Be yourself.

Especially, do not feign affection.

Neither be cynical about love;

for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment

it is as perennial as the grass.



Take kindly the counsel of the years,

gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.

But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,

be gentle with yourself.



You are a child of the universe,

no less than the trees and the stars;

you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you,

no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.



Therefore be at peace with God,

whatever you conceive Him to be,

and whatever your labors and aspirations,

in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.



With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,

it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.