He Shoots, He Scores!

I tell you what, Tim won the Valentine's Day Game by a huge margin this year. An impressive display of forethought and execution. A home run, a slam dunk, a field goal and any other winning sports analogy you can insert into this sentence.

This, my friends, is what triumph looks like:

 

 Kolache is a Czech pastry that I get to eat exactly once a year, when (and if) I make it back to the little Czech community in eastern South Dakota where my father was raised and where I would visit every summer growing up. Not only did Tim get up early and make them, he made them from my late grandmother's recipe. A little piece of home. A little piece of family. A little piece of my roots.

Hands down, the best Valentine's Day gift I've ever received.

(....AAAannnnnd I'd tell you what he got in return, but we'll keep this a G rated post.....)

Karma's A.......

Teenagerdom is alive and well in our house these days and I admit that I have a new found appreciation for all the parents that haven't developed permanent facial ticks from its landmines. Sometimes I feel completely ill-equip for the job as the hoodoo curse my mom put on me as a teenager rolls around in my head....you know, the one that goes: When you grow up, I hope you have a daughter just. like. you.   (Because if she's anything close, I am so. screwed.)

Here's what I'm up against these days: Sydney's lovelier by the day. She's curvy; she's graceful; she's witty, charismatic and spunky. This combination makes me teeter between beaming pride,wanting to nurture her blossoming womanhood and doing a swat team style take down, throwing a sack over her head and whisking her off to a bomb shelter in the remoteness of Idaho.

Karma

Here is an all too typical conversation between the two of us as of late:

Sydney: Mom, can I get these shoes? (showing 4 inch black heels)
Me: Sure.
S: Really??!
Me: Absolutely. Oh, wait. You meant in this lifetime....yeah, not a chance.
S: *grumble grumble*  Fine. How about these? (showing more ridiculously high heels)
Me: I'm sorry, are you working in a strip club somewhere that I should be aware of?
S: MOM!!
Me: You're 13. Talk to me about those shoes when you're 30.
S:*grumble grumble* What about this dress? (presenting what looks like a small piece of fabric that someone forgot to sew the back into)
Me: How about a gunny sack?
S: MOM! (*rolling her big doe eyes)
Me: I'll get you one for every day of the week.
S: *grumble* *sulk*


Yeah, one word: Idaho.

A Storm to Remember

The weather we've been experiencing in the Pacific Northwest has been, shall we say, interesting. Snow, wind, rain, sunshine....it's a bit like Mother Nature's in the midst of a severe emotional crisis, swinging from one extreme mental state to another. It's been an entertaining and impressive display to be sure. One of the places that was probably best to steer clear from in the middle of her very public spectacle was the Oregon Coast with its hurricane winds and threats of flooding....so, of course, we ventured to exactly that location for Tim's birthday. We are nothing if not ridiculous.

Having said that and adding the 'don't try this at home' disclaimer,  I admit that it was one of the best trips that I have ever taken to the coast. First off,  I'm a sucker for a little cabin and a warm fire. Add Bach playing on the itunes and the rain coming in sideways, and very little can spoil my contentment. Even Tim playing his newly acquired beginning bagpipes. Which at this point, sound like the man is feverishly choking a duck. (And if you don't believe me, look at the dog's reaction in this photo. That is utter shock and bewilderment. 'Nuff said.)

Anyway, where was I?.....Ah, yes. Happiness!  As I was saying, the rain came in sideways, the wind blew hard enough to overturn cars, and the sand came alive, flying in perfect, fleeting ribbons to the sea.  In the small spans between intensities, Mother Nature gave moments of perfect calm for walking alone on long stretches of solitary beach. It was remarkable. If this is what we get for being ridiculous, I'll take it.

:

Let It Snow!

When I left Montana, I swore that I wouldn't care if I never saw snow again. I figured if I didn't have the money to ski on it several times a week, it was more trouble than it was worth. And so I left to greener pastures, literally. And I didn't miss it for years....
....and then something started creeping up on me. A nostalgia as soft as the snowflakes. And, as we've had a dusting of snow over the last few days, I've spent much of my time wandering the streets, remembering how quieting the fall of billowy flakes can be to a restless spirit; how much I enjoy the sting of chilled cheeks and the delicate crunch underfoot. The delight of standing among snowflakes as they dance and swirl to their own silent music.
Once again, I find this weather magical. Wonders never cease.

Demons Be Gone

Christmas has come and gone and I admit that we were all spoiled beyond anything any of us deserved. 'Lavished with gifts' comes to mind, but I suppose it's nice to be pampered from time to time. I feel pampered (and I am grateful to those who did the pampering. Thank you!)

Of course, the kids had their list of wishes, big and small. This year, Alex announced that he needed something practical. His word. Practical. And by practical he didn't mean underwear or socks, he meant...wait for it....holy water. Holy water. Because, according to him, you never know when you're going to need it. Which is hard to argue.

So, Alex got his practical gift.  And instead of sitting on a shelf, he's put it to practical use: ambushing and squirting every.single.person who walks into our home under the pretense that he is checking for demons. (I couldn't make this up if I tried.)

I suddenly feel like I'm living in a Calvin and Hobbes comic strip. For those of you who've stood wet and bewildered in my living room, good news! Alex assures me that he won't be needing to call an exorcist on your behalf. God knows I'll be sleeping better at night.

Deck the Halls and Ho ho ho

On the eve of Christmas Eve, I'm been pondering the finer points of the holiday that's a mere hours away. Well, I guess mostly wondering why the hell do I do this to myself every year because I'm up to my eyeballs in the aftermath of my procrastination. On the bright side, it's nothing that some Christmas cookies and a little booze can't fix....you know what they say, 'Ho ho ho and a bottle of rum.' (Oh, wait. That's 'Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum.' Never mind.) Anyway! We've gotten this far and it's not looking too shabby:

Rangling the Xmas Tree

The finishing touch

Deckin' the Halls

Being friggin' adorable

Happy Face

Sad Face

Missing the bottle of rum

Herding Cats

In case you are ever wondering what Tim's definition of desperation looks like, I'll give you a little insider's peek: Being the grand poo-pa of The Festival of Lights minus the volunteers needed for everything to run smoothly causes Tim to beg groups of known merry pranksters to fill in for 'real' help. Apparently he weighed the possibilities of what might happen with us versus what might happen without us and we won the coin toss...although I suspect that he went 2 out of 3.

Last Available Option

And the games begin....

 ....I was posted as the official greeter, with my father, Wild Joe, under the strict orders that we could not greet guests by asking to trade someone's wife for 3 goats. This conversation actually happened. Tim spoils all of the fun.                                                                                                                    

.....Meanwhile at the petting zoo....

...My brother, Dan, and Alex were put in charge, which was a serious Hail Mary to begin with. As the gatekeeper to the zoo, Dan made every. single. person. with gloves remove them before entering the zoo because, as he explained simply to hundreds of people, "The goats will eat them." This, my friends, is a complete and total fabrication. In reality, goats like eating gloves as much as they like eating people. We have no idea what led him to believe that this little factoid was true but he told the masses upon masses of people with utter conviction and there wasn't a gloved hand in the joint.

...While Dan was busy misleading the public in his corner, Alex was busy creating a whole series of ninja moves to be used on the goat seen in the photo with him. From what he's shown me, that goat woulda been toast.

          ....And finally, we played 'Where in the World is Crazy Dar' (aka my mother)......

My mother, whom we loving call Crazy Dar has a tendency to wander somewhat aimlessly (sorry mom, you know it's true). While 'taking tickets' she was miraculously spotted all over the festival looking a bit like this. Pay no attention to the fact that I took these photos while on duty as the official greeter. The point is that the most responsible ticket taker for the evening was my 13 year old daughter.

...And so it went..like herding cats. I wonder if Tim would ask us to work again next year or if given the coin toss he'd do 3 out of 5 next time......