Ants in the Pant-----ry

There are ants in my pantry. It was due for a good scrub-down. So, I guess I could thank the ants. Now my pantry is clean and organized. For now.

My kids are fighting monsters. It's really bugging. They will find any and every reason to be snarky. Especially the middle lady. It's like a competition to see if they can get the other to mess-up, cry, freak out, or get in trouble. Not the baby, however. She's perfection. Here's an example of the drama:

At the dinner table. Sarah and Kate are drinking apple juice.

Mom: "Don't drink too much! You'll get diarrea."

Kate takes her cup of juice and starts pouring it into Sarah's cup.

Sarah: "MOM! Kate just wants me to get diarrea!!"

Kate grins.

I told them that for every fightin' word, they must do a chore. So far today, my floors have been swept and vacuumed, the toy room has been cleaned, and they are in the process of dusting.

Oh!! Add another chore!! Sarah just "wrecked the flatness" of the new peanut-butter jar, and Kate is freaking out. They're still not learning. So, they're still cleaning.

BWAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

They hate me right now.

Happy Bar Day! Oh, and Happy Pioneer Day Too.

July 24th is "Bar Day" at our house. It's the day Neal took the Oregon State Bar Exam. Ugh. To anyone who has been through this ordeal, you know exactly how the gut feels when remembering these times. Lucky for us, he passed the first time.

As a supportive wife, I wanted to do something special for him, seeing as he had just been through the ringer in a major way. When you see someone work as hard as they can, hour after hour, day after day, you kind of feel sorry for them. Poor Neal. Well, my "special something" options were limited, since we only had about six cents to our name. Once again, anyone who has been through this is feeling the acid reflux rear up again when remembering these times.

Berries were in season, and I had recently been to Utah, tapping my Grandma Ginger for her pie-making skills. I know! I could make him a pie! He is a fan of tart (yes, I'm a tart), so I decided on Razzleberry (whoever named this pie sucks. It's a raspberry/blackberry pie). When he came home from taking the bar in Portland, he had a fresh, homemade pie waiting for him.

We have since renamed the pie "Bar-berry Pie." Clever, I know.

I do this every year on July 24th.

Today, I called Neal and said, "Come home for lunch! I've got something for you!" I'm sure he smiled. No, not THAT silly! A hot pie, fresh from the oven, with some vanilla Umpqua
icecream.

He made it home in record time.

This is what was left when he went back to work.


I *heart* Neal

Happy Pioneer Day

13 Bits of Heaven

* Nothing like a few stolen pictures from a sister's blog. Thanks, La.



What do you do when two of your sisters come for a visit? Par-tay!! So hard, in fact, that I have a nice cold sore to prove it (lack of sleep). Here are just a few of the things you do in Oregon, in the summer --

1) Pick berries.


2) Visit the shortcake stand. Love those eating action shots. Makes me look like a genuine fashion model. And a pig. . .


3) Enjoy the cable TV at the condo in Seaside. Look at those poor, Disney Channel deprived Peton girls/zombies.


4) Tell your mom you want your ears pierced, and she says, "Ok." Look at that nervous girl, holding Taylor's hand for support as she makes her way through the Lancaster Mall to Claire's. I had Sarah's pierced when she turned 2. Mistake. Either douse them with it as infants (which I don't have the heart to do), or let them decide for themselves.

Action shot.

Ahhhh! Fresh impalements make me smile.



5) Play farmer at the Tillamook Cheese Factory. Or, as my delicious almost-3 niece called it, "Cheese Land."


6) Celebrate a first birthday. What a rich year.


7) Play "Godzilla" at the beach in Seaside. Is there a better way to celebrate a birthday? Abby doesn't think so.


8) Eat sand.


9) Eat more sand.


10) Teach Abigail how to count --
I 1 the sandcastle

I 2 the sandcastle

I 3 the sandcastle

I 4 the sandcastle

I 5 the sandcastle

I 6 the sandcastle

I 7 the sandcastle

I 8 the sandcastle!!

Talk about a sand-paper diaper the next morning. . . makes for a nice bum exfoliation.

11) Teach your child the finer arts of sand architecture. Baby Reese (not to be confused with big Uncle Reese), and her mom, Ginger.

12) Take a cousin bath. Addison, Reesie and Abby. Looks like someone smells something. Actually, that's her 75%-of-the-time face. If she keeps that up, she'll NEVER get asked out for a date. Krusty the Clown!


13) Explode a bag of "Tweezers" (Sarah gets tweezers and twizzlers mixed up) in your lap. Is this photo of my husband's "area" mildly inappropriate? Well, even if it is, it was mildly funny. Ok, majorly funny. I was making the drive over to Seaside. I asked Neal to get me the twizzlers. I snacked. Sarah wanted some. So, Neal - he'd been a bit hyper that day - gave the bag a shake. Well, the bottom seal popped, and the twizzlers exploded EVERYWHERE! They peppered the windows and windshield, landed in the back, fell in my diet coke. Seriously, it was so funny.

My husband is a good sport. He honestly, thoroughly enjoyed having a week full of women. 10 of them. He's pretty lucky, that man is. For being an only child, he's as close as could be to having siblings with my sister's and brothers around. He really loves them. Can't say I blame him.

Come back soon Ginger, Taylor, Ginny, Reese, Laurel and Addison!

Back

I've been gone for awhile. Hansen children 4 and 5 (Ginger and Laurel) were at my house for a week, along with their daughters. It was loads of fun! I'll post pictures when I use my other computer, for that is where the pictures reside at the moment.

My Sarah is finally home from her adventures in Utah. She had so much fun! While there, she was able to go the Yellowstone with my sister's family. Lucky them, they saw bears -- in the wild! Bears gone wild. It's good to have her home. I missed her.

Abigail had her first birthday, she did. Ahhhh, how the time flies. About a year ago, I thought the late night feedings and baby deciphering would never end, and overwhelm me. But now I have a 7-toothed little cruiser who says things like, "balloon, dad, Kate, Sarah, more, all done, Jesus." Notice a crucial name she's neglected to say? Yeah, that's right. She takes me for granted since I'm always in her face 24/7. Little stinker. It's not like "mom" is a hard word to say. I'm thinking of taking offense.

While shopping at the Winco today, Sarah reminded me of the time - about a year or so ago - when she asked my to buy some "nicotines." We were passing the nectarines in the produce section. That funny girl. Nicotines are in season right now, don't you know?

So are the blueberries, blackberries and raspberries. I have a fridge full of them. It's amazing how cheap they are when you get to pick them yourself.

A Proposal

I propose that it is safer to let your children light fireworks, than it is for mother. I would show you a picture of the blister on my hand, or the tender burn on my thumb, but Sarah has my camera in Utah.

Why should I let my children light the fireworks? Because they will be preserved through some divine protection, like I was as a child. When I was little, we would troll the neighborhood on July 5th and July 25th, looking for "duds." When we found them, we would cut them open, revealing the silver gun-powder inside. Dud after dud added up to a little silver pile/trail. It was fun to light. And don't forget the lethal combo of Picolo Pete's bound in duct-tape. They light fences on fire.

I remember finding a whole package of black-cat fire crackers! Sam and I blew them up in all sorts of ways. We combined the fuses to make one giant firecracker. Or, we would catch some grasshoppers, throw them in a mason jar, then add firecrackers. In all that time, I only remember a few minor burns (my gunpowder-coated fingers would ignite as I lit the match). I even had a firecracker explode in my hands, and I was fine. Don't forget the night I spent with Jacinda and Justin, lighting bottle rockets from our mouths. I burned a few holes in my shirt, but still kept my eyebrows and face.

I must have been preserved so that I could bear children at some future date. Well, I've born a few kids, so my luck is out. On Saturday, I had a few miss-haps. I tried lighting 3 cones at once, and one of them started it's fountain of sparks right under my hand. Then, a few ground flowers with angry fuses burned my thumb. In my ground-flower igniting, I would throw them up in the air. My aim was off once, and the flower landed on the blanket where Kate and her friends sat. Sounds like last year. I finally stopped. Neal kept taunting me to run and jump over a fountain. It's so hard for me not to do something like that. It's a trait I have yet to outgrow. I almost did, but then I thought I shouldn't because I wasn't having much luck. I didn't want to light my nether-regions on fire. Like my brother-in-laws disturbing, but true, experience on Salt Lake City's light rail.

Despite the burns, we had a great 4th.

It Wouldn't Be 1983 Without a Permed Mullet

Second Grade - Ms. Dobson - 1983-84 school year. I'm the frizz head right in front of Ms. Dobson. Yikes! I think that perm was less than 24 hours old! Angie used to tease me for that picture. Crazy memory of mine can name almost every kid in that picture - without the cheats at the bottom.

Ok, that was my FAVORITE shirt!! I got it for my 8th birthday. I think I wore it almost every day. Those Jordache Jeans were not my favorite. My mom kept going on and on about how "in style" they were (significant, considering how 'out of style' I always was, wait, still am). I wasn't buying it. They seemed too girly to me. Angie liked them though, but they didn't fit her 5th-gradedness. She tried. A little status update on that list of things about myself: I don't like to swim anymore. What the heck?! I HATE math with a passion. I don't ever remember LIKING that subject. I must have liked it when I just did plussing and minusing. It's easy to memorize and do fast. But, the second it got hard and I actually had to THINK, well, that must have been when the hate began. . . . I still like soccer, although I haven't played since my senior year in high school. I still have my crazy, mis-shapen pinkie finger from those soccer days. Still gives me trouble when I have to use it, or when the weather gets cold. My kids don't like to touch it.

Let's see, what are a few memories from second grade? Ummm, I think that's when Thriller came out. Loved that Michael Jackson.

What else? Oh, I remember thinking Ewoks were the bomb. I think Return of the Jedi came out when I was in second grade. Never got the lunch box though. Sigh. I just had to be jealous of Michael J.'s cool metal lunch boxes. I never needed one. Who needs a lunch box when your lunch is free?

I liked Transformers, and used to play it at recess with Adam P.

Ok, why are we still talking about MJ and Transformers 26 years later?!?!

That was also the year my mom and grandma came to school and showed my class how to make caramel popcorn. And, Angie P.'s mom came and made chocolate suckers. They were good (Angie P.'s family was in the Hunter West Stakes slide show production about baptism. Remember? They showed it at every baptism).

I loved Ms. Dobson. I thought she was so nice and so pretty. I found her on Facebook, and she had these awesome pictures posted. It was amazing, because she had things posted from classes back in the 70's! It's good to know I had a teacher who loved her students and remembers them.