Viva la Mexico!

I won't waste your time bragging about our time in Mexico; I won't mention the warm sun, the taste of sea salt on the lips, the looong solitary walks on the glittering beach or the mojitos before noon (I'll just show you instead).

I will, however, mention that you really haven't lived until you see Mama Mia onstage as interpreted by our non-English speaking neighbors to the south. As my sister-in-law noted, it was much like watching  Godzilla, only with semi-better dance moves. You also haven't lived until you've abandoned a perfectly beautiful whale-watching boat (complete with hors d'oeuvres and cocktails) for a rickety old Mexican dingy somewhere out in the ocean due to seasickness (poor Sydney: nothing says pre-teen cool like harfing off the side of a boat in front of ((gasp)) people. I told her we were in Mexico, every vacationer has to puke in Mexico at some time or another....it's kind of a traveling rite of passage). Anywho, it was an odd adventure complete with old, tired life vests that I was sure would drag us straight to the bottom of the ocean if we had jumped ship (and believe me, I considered jumping ship) plus a strange little captain who seemed to have had a few cocktails himself before taking us back to port (think Jack Sparrow, minus the super sexiness). But, on the bright side, seeing whales from a very small, 3 butt boat was a sight to behold, particularly since it felt like it could've been the last sight I ever saw.

So, here we go....just a few of many images from the trip.

A force to be reckoned with

Our Lady of Guadalupe

Alex and his whale

Patty and Kirsten

Moby Dick

Snotty Chuckle

Sydney being frisked by the Mexican 'police'

The family bed

The Mexican version of Abby Road Crossing

Greeting the day

Tim joins the cast

Feliz Navidad

Mexico, in the words of James Taylor:

"....so sweet with the sun sinking low
Moon's so bright like to light up the night
Make everything all right"

James, I think you're onto something.

Thanksgiving for Dummies, Part Deux

Well, I'm happy to say that we have made it through Thanksgiving intact. There were no trips to the emergency room from knive mishaps,which I have a sad history of, nor were there any salmonella poisonings that I know of....so I'll call dinner a success (and it was delicious which was an added bonus).

Since my last anxiety-ridden post leading up to cooking my first turkey, I learned some pretty interesting behind-the-scenes sorts of lessons with a couple of observations thrown in for good measure. I'm not sure that I'm the better for it, really...and you probably won't be either, but blogs are made for sharing.....

Let's talk lessons in physics: If a turkey has been thawing for days, it will create natural "juices"( truly "liquid rot", but we'll stay with the illusion for everyone's sake).  Come to find out, when you pick a turkey up and hold it just so, those "juices" will roll rigggghhhht up the sleeves of your sweater in mass quantity. I was completely unprepared for this little shock. To make matters worse, I stood there holding the turkey in front of me in unpleasant surprise, looked down and realized that I was giving my little dog a turkey "juice" shower, which was equally gross. Yeah, don't worry Martha Stewart, your day job's safe for now.

I don't expect people to give away all of their Thanksgiving secrets, but perhaps someone might have mentioned to me that when I stuck my hand in the bird for the first time, I'd find a paper bag full of animal organs sitting inside. Since I had no idea what this was all about, I assumed that I had somehow gotten the Hannibal Lecter of turkeys who had gotten the electric chair for his crimes and then sent directly to my grocer's freezer. I was assured that the paper bag was put there for me to find on purpose, kind of like the toy in the bottom of a cereal box, only creepier. Not exactly sure what I was supposed to do with the organs, I decided to play Hannibal Lecter myself by frying them up and drinking a glass of Chianti (and then gave them to the dogs).You might know what to do with the organs, but at this point, don't tell me; I don't want to know.

As I stood there amongst all of the Thanksgivingness,  stuffing the turkey full of oranges, carrots, onions and such, I couldn't help but think that if I was stuffing the exact same things into the rump of, say, a squirrel or a cat, people would run from me and then probably lock me up. But since I was shoving things into the rump of a turkey, people were not only coming over, they were flying across the country to be a part of it. It's weird, isn't it? (Or am I just weird? It's entirely possible.)

So here are some photos as things progressed...and I hope that your Thanksgiving was as enlightening (and fun) as mine.

Thanksgiving for Dummies

OK. I admit it.  I am a 34 year old woman, living in America (with a family)  and have never cooked a full Thanksgiving dinner in my life. Never. Not once. There are lots of reasons for this anomaly: travel, shared Thanksgivings with friends, and, of course, Hubby Tim who moonlights as my personal chef (go ahead and be jealous for a minute ladies, it's totally appropriate). I have silently relished the knowledge that I have somehow gotten out of cooking this monster meal alone; Breathed a sigh of relief that the stars had aligned just so, so that I was only responsible for side dishes. Well, my number was bound to come up sooner or later. *sigh* I have family flying in, friends coming over, and Hubby Tim is in Wisconsin...the perfect storm of my Thanksgiving nightmares. This one's alllllll me and seems like a relatively poor idea.

 There are two issues that are keeping me up at night:

Up until recently, I knew almost nothing about turkeys. I happily eat them exactly once a year and if I happen to see one that is alive, I get survivor's guilt. That's was about the extent of my knowledge. So, imagine my surprise to find out that in order for this meal to go smoothly, I have to give one a nice aromatic bath, tie it up, and then shove things in it's nether-regions. (Whaaaaa?!! Do I need to get it liquored up and throw candles in for good measure?!) Frankly, I like to get to know someone a little bit better before I go down that road (no, really mom, I do).

As if the that wasn't enough to give me performance anxiety,  I found out that there is a whole hotline specifically for people to call in the case of a butterball emergency (No shit...a Butterball Hotline AND a butterball emergency...both apparently real things).  I'm putting it on speed dial right next to the AA hotline that I'll be calling from drinking too much over the stress of this whole thing.

Here's the other potential issue: These days, I seem to have the focus of someone with dementia and an added touch of ADD. I'll start something, walk into another room, and then totally forget that I had been doing something else (As if to prove my point, in the middle of writing this very blog, I walked upstairs to get my phone and realized that I had food burning on the stove...). I'm relatively certain that preparing Thanksgiving dinner requires timing and focus, both of which I seem to have misplaced somewhere in the craziness that is my life.

Now, this whole Thanksgiving thing doesn't need to be a Martha Stewart production, but I just hope it isn't this either:



Oh boy. Wish me luck.

Halloween is for Lovers

The kids abandoned us for Halloween this year; I didn't even get one picture before they were swallowed into the night...But, I guess we made do.....

 

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Apparently Life was so thoroughly entertained with my dramatic interpretation of 'scared shitless' last week that it decided that it was in need of an encore performance. So here it is....

Yours Truly in: "Scared Shitless, the Sequel" with special guest, Hubby Tim

3:45am  

Tim shakes me awake:

"Kristy. Kristy! Is someone in here?"
"Hmmmm....?"
 "Is one of the kids in here?"
"Hmmm? What's going on?"
"Who are you talking to?"
"What?! I was sleeping....what are you talking about?!"
(pause)
"I heard the door shut and then you started talking to someone......"
"That's not funny. Seriously."
"I'm not kidding. I heard the door open and close and then you started talking to someone!"
 "Tim, so help me god if you woke me up to screw with me....!
"I'm not kidding...!"


(silence)

 (hiding under the blanket)


Tim: "Holy shit! Did you hear that?"
"yeah."
"Maybe I'll go check the door...."
"What??! Don't go over there!! Are you INSANE?! Or possessed?!(*remembering 'Paranormal Activity') Holy shit! Are you possessed??!....."
"Shhhhhh" (*Tim moves slowly goes toward door)
"....because if you're possessed, I think I'm supposed to stake you in the heart or something...."
"Shhhhhh!"
"....Oh, god. I wasn't prepared to stake anyone tonight...(*looking around wildly)....I might have a high heeled shoe somewhere....."
"Oh, wow! There's no one there..."
"......I cannot believe how much this sucks right now..... "

(silence)                                         

Tim: "Really? A shoe? "
"Erm.... desperate times, desperate measures?"                        
*sigh

(silence)

4:45am

Tim: "Only 2 more hours until the sun comes up...."
Me:"*grumble grumble, swear*"
Tim: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Me: Whaaa?! Are you  $!@!! kidding me?! You cannot wake me up and scare me to death, then leave me awake in the dark!!
Tim: zzzzzzzzzzzzz  zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Me: *swear*



I can't remember the last time I was so happy to see the morning dawn.

 I still do not appreciate the night's uncomfortable resemblance to 'Paranormal Activity' and Tim still doesn't appreciate that I was willing to stab him with a shoe. We're both still wondering what the heck happened that night....we'll probably never know.

Lessons Learned

The last couple of weeks have been a colorful blur. Somewhere in the flurry I've managed to pick up some random but important insights that ought to be shared. Here you go and in no particular order:

• This week I found out that getting a phone call from your boss at 1 o'clock in the morning is only slightly less traumatizing than death calling. Especially when the reason he is calling is because you didn't lock the doors correctly after working into the wee hours in the darkroom. It's twice as horrifying to learn that he is sitting down at the office....with the police (At this point, you'll kind of wish that it was death calling). I don't care how gracious and kind your boss is (and mine was) you'll feel like a boob for a week. You will.

• I realized this week that a seat belt's secondary purpose is to keep a person safe in the event of a crash. It's primary purpose is to keep a person like myself, from hurling themselves out of a moving car when driving for more than 20 minutes with 2 kids, 2 dogs, and Hubby Tim. Add Tim singing 'Teenage Dream' to the mix complete with weird dance moves, and the 'lock' feature that seat belts have prove to be genius.

•  And next: Did you know that it's physically possible to punch yourself in the jaw when doing speed bag exercises?! I won't explain how I know this. I just do. Moving on.

•  And finally, I learned that you're never too old to be scared to death in the middle of the night after watching a scary movie. Sydney finally talked me into watching 'Paranormal Activity', which I didn't think much of until the lights were out and I was alone with my creativity. By 3 o'clock in the morning I was so scared that I decided I was willing to do every single karate move that I had ever seen if I opened my eyes and found anything standing by my bed. I understood that there could be some unintended causalities to this decision and I wondered how I would have reacted if I had gone into my mom's room in the middle of the night as a kid expecting comfort and instead, got a swift kick to the head. I concluded that I could apologize to whomever I pummeled as soon as the sun was up, but before that, I wasn't responsible for my actions. Luckily for everyone in my household, it didn't come to that.  In a nutshell, I woke up looking like I had gone on a 3 day bender carrying around a bladder that was threatening to pop since getting up to pee was clearly out of the question (By the way, is there some sort of universal law that says that when you're completely freaked out and lying in bed, your bladder will automatically fill to the brim and then you have the added burden of deciding to brave the dark or let your kidneys shut down? It's cruel, isn't it?). Anyway, I looked and felt wrecked. There is not enough coffee in the world to undo the damage. Sydney, in contrast, came floating out of her room fully rested and looking like the morning sunshine. I could have killed her.

                 Here's a picture of us first thing that morning. Aww, I feel bad for myself just looking at it.

Mea Culpa

So, those of us who write for "The Story of Us" (namely me) are in the dog house. You see, after Hubby Tim read my last post and laughed until he cried, he let the story settle in a bit and then decided that I had, in fact, "made him sound dumb" (which if you read the last post, was forbidden under penalty of death). This about-face has made two things very apparent:

 A) The idea that the women of our species are the ones prone to wild mood swings is clearly a social construct

 and

B) My blog may actually hold secret powers in helping me to get what I want.....as in: "Hubby Tim please go clean the bathroom, I'd hate to have to write about.... [insert embarrassing scene here]...on my blog...."
I'll be testing that theory.

In the meantime, here's how the scene went:


Hubby Tim: "Thanks a lot. You made me sound like I don't do stuff."
Me: "Wait, you're upset because I implied that you're inactive....?"
Hubby Tim: "But I do stuff! I'm active!"
Me: (blink)
Hubby Tim: "I do!!"
Me: (blink) (pause)...."So the fact that I brought up that you were dressed as a bare-chested unicorn in a grass skirt didn't faze you but the fact that you don't work out....you think that makes you sound dumb?!!"
Hubby Tim: "What?! Well, yeah..."
Me: (silence)
Hubby Tim: "...I do, do stuff...grumble, grumble, ..." (sulk)

So, in the hopes that Hubby Tim will stop bellyaching and showering me with examples of how he is active (OK, he does take out the garbage),"The Story of Us" would like to amend our previous post and add that Hubby Tim does, indeed, "do stuff." We sincerely regret this error and hope that Hubby Tim's bruised ego will bounce back soon.

What the hell. Here are the unicorn photos*....I'm in trouble anyway.

 *No unicorns were hurt in creating this ensemble. I cannot, however, speak to their embarrassment. (And a special thanks to Hubby Tim for being a good sport).

Tim vs. The Volcano

So, this probably shocks no one, but I'm just gonna say it: Tim's a bit of a wild card. I've seen this man jump into a freezing cold lake in the middle of a Montana winter wearing nothing but some skivvies, a bow tie and a smile. I've also witnessed him prance into a crowded room wearing a unicorn headdress and a hoola skirt just because he could....soooo I was semi prepared when he walked into the house one day proclaiming that he was planning on doing a summit of Mt. St. Helens.

Now, I know that compared to what I've just described, hiking a mountain seems relatively sane, but let me put this into perspective: These days, Tim's idea of physical activity involves watching sports on tv and perhaps driving to the grocery store (no, that is not a typo). In contrast, when I say "summit" I do mean this:

 You see the dilemma.

 On Monday, Tim set out on his quest. The whole climbing up and down adventure took 11 solid hours, but he did it! I was worried that the volcano might eat him, and it might have, a little....He came home glowing (possibly from sunburn) and I've certainly seen little old ladies with walkers move faster than he has since his adventure; but he's happy....and what else is there really? (Well, he's alive...I guess there's that too).
Now, as a matter of full disclosure, Hubby Tim has pointedly asked me not to make him sound dumb in this post (ah, ye have so little faith), so, here is Homer Simpson's (not my) interpretation of Tim realizing what he had gotten himself into:
mwavs.com/0059305935/MP3S/Movies/Simpsons_Movie/mustkeepgoing.mp3

AND here are some photos of how impressive our Wild Card can actually be:

 

Well done, Tim. Well done.

Get Back to Where You Once Belonged

OK, I admit it: I fell of the blogging bandwagon. I had every intention of making it wonderful and witty, full of beautiful photos and deep insights....you know, the whole make-you-laugh-make-you-cry thing. It was going to heal the sick and make the sun shine annnddd...well...it all sounded so great in my head.
And then I got busy and got sidetracked by Jersey Shore (damn you JWoww!)...annnddd....
...well, months later I remembered I once had a blog and a dream (big tear).

So, here's what happened over the summer in my blogging absence and in no particular order:

• My job=Great! I'm meeting creative people and coming home smelling like chemicals; I get to nerd it up with other photographers just the way I like it. As a side note, I had an adventure with Mary Ellen Mark this summer which I will blog about just to make my fellow photographer friends think I'm cool, if only for a minute.
• Tim:Remember him? Yeah, I don't either...I barely saw him all summer. Anyway... Employed! His job comes complete with stories such as: having to escort machete wielding, live chicken holding weirdos off the premises for doing sacrifices on private property AND other weirdos rappelling off the back side of the property in the middle of the night a'la James Bond.....Suffice to say, I love Tim's job. 
• Kids: Yep. Still got 'em and they seem to like us so I guess they're staying (and OK I kind of really like them too). They spend their summers in Wyoming so it's always a bit of a trip to see them after a couple of months...they've grown and changed and I can report that they are as lovely and charming as ever (except when they're not). Here's photographic proof of the lovely and charming side of things (I'll spare you everything else, especially if you are thinking of having children of your own and you're on the fence):

Darling, non?

  So, there's plenty more to blog about like my photography website that I am slowly creating (no, seriously this time) and the kids' various escapades, but I'll leave it for another time. I'll leave it for NEXT time.....and there will be a next time.

Until then......much love.

The Tides, They are A Changin'

As many of you know, the economic downturn has hit Oregon and our family particularly hard. At this point in time, the chances of landing even a mediocre job here is about equal to the chances of winning the PowerBall. So, it is with great excitement that I can announce that I have actually landed a job in a very cool little place called Newspace Center for Photography. The people who work there are  wonderful and the work shown in the gallery is continually fresh and dynamic.

I feel energized being back in my photographic element. I am truly fortunate....and heading out to buy a lottery ticket.

Here's a link; check it!!

www.newspacephoto.org

I Made It Through Spring Break and All They Gave Me is This Lousy Blog Post

So there's a lot happening in our family right now; plenty to blog about, like a new job (!!) and our family's dancing debut in Les Ruses D'Amour (If it goes well, I'm thinking we're takin' it on the road), but for now, I wanted to share some photos from Spring Break just to prove that we made it through without any serious catastrophe.

Now, there was a time when I could never have imagined the word "catastrophe" and "Spring Break" in the same sentence. "Mexico" and "Spring Break," sure. "Bikini," "sunshine" and "margarita," with "Spring Break,"  bring it! Even, "sunburn" and "hung over" with "Spring Break," I have a small place in my heart for. Ah, the good 'ole days (*sniff*). No, the whole Spring Break paradigm shifted for me when my children took over my much beloved holiday and claimed it as their own. Goodbye Mexico, bikini and margaritas. Hello, countless hours of board games and play dates, boredom induced meltdowns and my own frayed nerves.  I'll try not to be bitter.

All kidding aside and much to my delight, the 9 days that we had together were pleasant, especially given the fact that, up until that point, Sydney and Alex seem to be steadily working toward their Professional-Sibling-Rivalry certificates. (Apparently, the curriculum includes wrestling moves that would rattle even the most hardened men in the WWF and a good dose of ear splitting shrieking beginning with the word "Mooooommmm!...." added in for extra credit ). But, we made it! We did it! And it was, shall I say, enjoyable!
Well, OK.  It didn't hurt that we spent some of our time here: