Wanderlust

Attention Hundred Milers

So for those of you who have bravely decided to join me in my quest to walk 100 miles between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I'd like you to visit this website. Ignore the scary dude in full military dress on the front page. Create an account, add your walks so far since Thanksgiving and then send me the link to your walk page and we'll add a link with your name on it in the sidebar this weekend. We are having some trouble getting the totals to be public, so just make sure that every time you add a walk you click the box to make it public so everyone can see it. If there are any other glitches or if you'd rather just keep track yourself and let us know how it goes, let me know. Otherwise, let the walking (and the sore muscles) begin! I'll tell you that I'm already at 14 miles if that will shame you into getting your butt going.

How to share

Over the extended holiday weekend we played host to our friend's dog, Lizzie. She's a rescue dog that they've had for a few months and very sweet. She's a heeler mix and only about a year old. Owen was interested in this newest addition to our family and spent some time playing with her on the floor one afternoon. They shared some toys, which Owen and Miles have done before but not Timber. Timber is convinced Owen has leprosy. Take a look.

Rethinking that plan to move to Colorado

So absurd it's obscene...

Peace on Earth not welcome in the burbs

100 miles

Every year I make a commitment to log a hundred miles between Thanksgiving and Christmas. This is a tradition that a dear friend and mentor of mine in New Hampshire used to observe with her friends every holiday season and I always thought it was an excellent idea. Keeps the weight of all those extra bons bons off the hips, gives some much needed holiday stress therapy and keeps the focus where it should be- on enjoying time taking care of yourself and spending it with friends and family. This commitment to walk 100 miles does not always result in actual achievement, however. If you do the math, it works out to be at least three miles everyday and usually it's not the physical commitment but the time commitment that I have trouble with. I place many demands on myself during the holiday season and often it's the important stuff, like being nice and taking care of myself that gets thrown to the curbside in favor of tins of homemade cookies and perfectly wrapped presents. This year, I'm gonna do myself a favor. I'm going to use the new baby clause and make my Christmas as hassle free as possible. Just a few batches of cookies and some bourbon balls, newsletters instead of personalized handmade cards and minimalist decorating including foregoing a Christmas tree will hopefully make my season a little brighter. And my waistline a little smaller. If you'd like to join the 100 mile club, let me know. I'll be keeping track of my miles in the sidebar and I can add your name to the list. Nothing like a little public humiliation to motivate you in the right direction.

As Promised

We've posted the fabulous set of pictures George snapped last month of Owen in the leaves. You may be wondering why those are the only pictures and it's because we're enormously lazy and tired and those were the only pictures we took last month, at least of Owen. But in this case it's all about the quality, not the quantity. Let us know what you think!

Buy Nothing Day

Today Kaz and I are buying nothing. No shopping. We both detest shopping in general, and today is even a better day to not shop when everyone else is shopping for the "deals". Maybe there are some deals to be had, but the whole point of Black Friday is to make money, not to give consumers deals. I think the Black Friday to an extent is to promote the idea of consumerism so companies can make people consume more crap they don't need so companies can make more profit. They don't have sales to help the consumer save, sales are there to help shoppers buy more shit they wouldn't buy in the first place.

Yeah, maybe I sound like a damm hippie with my long hair, but how much crap do you have in your house that has no point? I've been to so many garage sales that have so much stupid pointless crap that was probably bought because it was a "good deal" rather than actually needing it. I'm just not into shopping unless I need something, but idea of people looking more forward to shopping than spending time with family at home playing some stupid boards games, repulses me. If I see one more My Space page from some girl that says one of her favorite things to do is shop, my head is going to explode. Shop for what? Does it matter as long as your shopping? Consume, consume, consume....

For some of you out there shopping today, I hope it is worth it. I hope you saved your $3.50 on that present you bought for your sister. I hope you are buying things you need, and buying presents that actually have a point. I've always wondered, why buy a gift just to buy a gift. If you can't think of something they want or need, then just forget it. Obviously you don't know them well, or are too busy shopping to notice that person's interests.

So am I losing out on the deals? I don't think so. I'd rather spend some extra money on something without the crowds. I also rather not buy shit I don't really need. That way I am making my own deal by not spending the money in the first place. Just because the deal is so good, doesn't mean you should buy it. Besides, I already have a great deal by staying at home with Owen and teaching him to say "dada"...

Letters to the O

Ten Months

This past month you decided that sleep was an unnecessary addiction and so you went cold turkey and gave it up. While I'm impressed with your willpower, I have to say I'm on the verge of punching the next old lady who smiles at you and says what a wonderful baby you are in the mouth. Think he's wonderful- then you stay up with him tonight Grandma! Previously, your sleeping issues were confined to daytime hours, which was bothersome but not life threatening. Now you toss and turn fitfully, mewing in your sleep and crying every hour or two. Initially I had hoped this was a result of your new found talent for crawling but as the weeks stretched into a month or more, I began to despair. I would never sleep again- I was doomed to be ugly and angry and completely frumpy for the rest of my days because insomnia runs in your veins like water. And then two little white bumps appeared on the ridges of your upper gums three days ago. You've slept the last two nights straight through until the early morning without a peep. You'll never know how close you came to being adopted by circus elephants.

There has been only one volume level to your voice for a couple of weeks now. Decibel shattering. It was if you suddenly discovered you could make glass shatter and kittens cower with the sheer power of your falsetto. I suppose it didn't help that your father and I used to think your baby grunts and silly screams were funny. When you open your mouth now, especially in public, your dad and I scowl and rush to fill it with something before that horrible sound gets us thrown out of Target for disturbing the peace again. I am also increasingly alarmed and more than a shade guilty about the fact that you are now mimicking not my words, but my tone. When I yell at the dogs to stop barking, you chime in with a slew of slurred baby outrage directed at their innocent canine heads. The time has come when I can no longer make fun of your father behind his back and expect you to be too stupid to repeat it. Ahhh... how I hoped that day would never come to pass.

Your ears have become your most prized possession and bear the marks of many scratches in your attempts to love every curved and hollowed ridge of them. You pull on them while drifting off to sleep, stick scraps of food from lunch in there to tide you over until dinner, and hold their soft lobes between your fingers when I change you. The only thing you adore more than your baby ears is anything else I happen to be holding in my hands besides you. While I could put the most fascinating new toy in front of you and you would throw it fifty yards just to watch it bounce, you'll sit enthralled with the blue plastic case for my birth control pills and mouth them for hours.

We bought you a wooden block cart at Costco a couple of months ago and you've played with it for a bit, enjoying the doors that open and shut and the bead and wire maze on the handles. Now, though, you've discovered it's true use as a standing stool and spend all your playtime attempting to edge your way into an upright position unassisted. When I wheel it into the room, you clap your hands with delight and suck your breath in in anticipation. And while you have injured yourself countless times on the contraption, you keep coming back for more.

When the doctor informed us that you were 20 plus pounds at your last visit, we finally gave in and traded in your infant seat for a forward facing toddler seat. This arrangement, you think, is a vast improvement. Not only is the seat much more comfortable but you get to see where we are going and give Daddy directions when he gets lost. You can also throw your toys at full velocity from the back seat and watch them strike and injure people you love. And what could be better than that? In addition to the scenery, you are obsessed with watching traffic. I could sit out on the front stairs all afternoon and give you a front seat view of every truck and sedan that rumbles by and you would be ecstatic. And I would too if it wasn't so damn ghetto.

Our days have fallen into a predictable routine, a cadence of activities that you seem to derive great comfort in. Everyday after Miles takes us for our morning walk, I lift you bundled like a great big ball of baby out of your stroller. After I carry you up the stairs and relieve you of the burdens of coat, hat and mittens, you always burrow your face into mine and nuzzle me, cheek to cheek. Then you put your hand up to my face, hold my head in place and gnaw on my cheekbone with little "naw, naw naw" sounds. And I realize that these are kisses to you, signals we have taught you mean deep and joyful affection. You have learned that pretending to eat someone else's face is the sweetest way to say "I love you." We are the coolest parents you will ever know.

Ode to a Stove

When we moved into our house, there were a couple of things that were less than ideal. Things that needed to be updated, fixed, or just reconfigured - think peach carpets. The stove was one of these things. We normally do a lot of cooking, including cooking things for Owen (no baby food jars for him). The stove we received with the house was an original sweet 70's mustard-shit-yellow Hotpoint with more years of stains on it than I care to think about. We recently came into a little inheritance money, and we wanted to spend some of it updating and fixing some things around the house.

The stove was one of the first things that came to mind. The stove does not quite work right, and the elements seem to get as hot as the sun, no matter what temperature. The elements don't quite sit flat, and I could never figure out why or how to fix it. We finally replaced it on Friday, with a regular black radiant glass surface stove, an almost 30 year upgrade. So I decided to take some pictures to memorialize our stove. Notice how dirty it got, we didn't bother cleaning it much because we knew we had to get a new stove.
As usual, click on a picture to see a larger version.

Bathtime Freak Show

I've put together another video for you, this one of Owen at bath time. He just recently started bathing by himself and is ecstatic about it. After watching the clips a few times, I've also come to understand that if we get a loud, obnoxious toddler in a year or two, it will only be because we've encouraged it every step of the way. George and I are working on nipping that in the bud but it's hard because we happen to think Owen is extremely funny. Enjoy!

Twelve Days of Christmas Cookies

Between now and the holidays, you'll find lots of cookie recipes popping up in the Kitchenry section. I've decided to do a little project called "The Twelve Days of Christmas Cookies." I make cookie platters for friends and family every year and usually start my baking after Thanksgiving and freeze as I go along. This is something I picked up from my Mom and can't seem to shake off, like a nervous tick or a rabid dog. I've made anywhere from 8-14 different varieties every year, and while I do experiment now and again, I have a few traditional favorites that make it into almost every seasonal selection. I'll post twelve of my best loved recipes in the Kitchenry section for you to enjoy. Some are family recipes and some are recipes I've picked up from holiday magazines that I really loved. So here's to another season of cookies- let the baking begin!

Humble Pie

As you can imagine, we're pretty full of...ummm... what's the word...GLEE here at Wanderlust. The election results were lip smacking satisfying and finally took the bitter taste out of mouth that had been lingering there since the last election fiasco. I must say it is delightful to see "The Decider" eating a hearty helping of humble pie, but I hope the Dems won't get too comfy.

Because let's be honest here. The Democrats did not WIN this election. The Republicans LOST it. There is a huge difference. It's kind of like being the second to last kid picked for a team in gym class. You know it's not because you're good at anything or popular but simply because the alternative, the fat kid with the untied shoes who eats his own boogers, was more disgusting. This election the voters didn't say "I trust the Democrats with my democracy." They finally said, "Well, I sure as hell don't trust the fucking Republicans. "D"..."D"... where the hell is the "D" candidate on this ballot?"

Memoirs on Mommihood Part XVII

THE GUF

Before Owen was born I worried alot about whether or not I would have the patience to care for a baby. I was hoping actually that he would come wrapped up in bows, completely pottytrained. Children are best, in my opinion, around age 4, when they're able to rationalize the difference between "tastes great" and "less filling." I didn't have much experience with toddlers or infants and tended to avoid them because, well... they smell bad and they're rather obnoxiously loud. And nobody likes something that is perpetually sticky.

Those who know me well find it somewhat miraculous that I am able to care for and teach children considering that I have absolutely no patience in any other faucet of my life. I hate waiting in lines. When I was in college, if the line at the dining hall was too long, I'd just go home and eat fruit loops or spaghettios warmed up in the dorm microwave. There is very little that is worth shaving WHOLE minutes off of my life expectancy. If there is traffic on a particular route, I will go another way that is twice as long just to feel as if I am still moving. Around our household, I am the master multi tasker. It's difficult for me to just sit and watch TV. I'd rather be folding laundry, cleaning the dogs ears and balancing a cup and saucer on my head at the same time just to say that I didn't waste a single moment of my evening.

Enter motherhood. For the first several months I shocked myself. I was never impatient or brusque, rarely frazzled or angry. This, however, was the honeymoon period. To be fair, it lasted quite awhile. But I think my patience is something akin to the Guf- when it's empty, the world ends and there ain't no going back. I think Owen's late night hyjinxs finally sucked that well of patience dry a few weeks back. The dogs walk around the house on eggshells, afraid that any moment a seething rain of reproach and wrath will fall upon them. When Owen doesn't finish a nap or worse, refuses to sleep at all, it's hard for me not to feel as if it were a personal insult. I have to coach myself through these moments with chocolate and big bowls of Lucky Charms. He's not out to destroy your life, I mumble to myself over and over. It's just a unwonted side effect.

This past weekend, when I got a few hours to myself, I realized that there is only one solution that will refill the Guf of patience for me. Being miles away for an afternoon in absolute silence in the wilderness, paying someone exorbiant amounts of money to massage my head and feet until the twitching goes away, or refusing to lift a single finger around the house and spending the entire day in bed with the crosswords, a bag of pistachios and HBO as my only company. Before I regarded these things as luxuries, activities that got dropped to the bottom of the to do list until I became the perfect mother and learned how to kickbox and puree babyfood at the same time. Now that the Guf is yawning before me like a black hole, empty and horrifying, I understand these bits of quiet and solitude are a necessity for me. And for Owen, too. I can be a better person, a better mother, a better wife if I just let someone else take over once in awhile. And it doesn't matter how many pacifiers get lost, how much gunk is left unwashed under his baby folds of chin, or how many toys get misplaced while I'm away. The important thing is that Owen doesn't have a psychotic mommy and that when this whole baby thing has passed us by, Owen will be happy and intact and I'll still bear some resemblance to a person. And really, that'll be everything I could have wished for us all.

A Birthday Extravaganza

Although my birthday fell on a Monday this year, George must be congratulated for making every attempt to conduct a weekend extravaganza. If you aren't aware, George isn't especially adept at celebratory gestures. I think it has to do with how people are raised. My Mom always made a big deal out of our birthdays and I enjoyed it and have come to expect the same thing as an adult. After a couple of botched attempts, George really put in the effort this year, although circumstances were sadly set against him.

I'm always big on suprises for birthdays, so on Saturday George told me to be ready to go in the afternoon but didn't tell me where or what for. Turns out I was off to the spa for a few hours to enjoy a pumpkin spiced facial and pedicure, which was lovely and relaxing. Later that evening, he made me a particularily delectable dinner in front of a roaring fire in our fireplace. It included peanut satay, teriyaki sauteed green beans and warm, grilled Naan. We watched "The Family Stone," which was a pretty delightful Christmasy movie and headed off to bed.

On Sunday George told me to be ready again in the afternoon, but didn't disclose where I was going until midday. I was to go on a hike alone in the mountains with Miles. We headed out around one, but as I was going down the hill just a few miles from our house, the truck died and I had to get a push from some guys to get out of the intersection, where I waited for half an hour or more until I finally got hold of George. We got the truck to start again and headed home, but it was too late for me to attempt the hike and still be back in time to get ready for our dinner out, so I helped George organize the wood pile instead.

Later Sunday evening, our friend Lauren came over to babysit and we headed out for a nice, adult dinner at our favorite formal restaurant, Jasoh. George had called ahead for reservations but had just gotten the machine, which said they were open 5-10 for dinner on weekends. When we arrived, however, Jasoh was closed and I was pretty pissed. We ended up going to Ruby River Steakhouse instead, where our waitress sucked and the food was okay.

Monday, my official birthday, things were pretty low key. George and I ended up using a coupon for free birthday pizza at The Pie and doing some grocery shopping. After several marathon phone calls from family and friends, we went to bed. 31 was kind of anti-climatic but hey... what can you expect. Since I spent last year turning 30 as a 7 month pregnant whale, this year was a cotton candy dream.

Kaz's Birthday

Today is Kaz's birthday, and to celebrate on our website, I thought I would share some quick trivia. Kaz's favorite president is Abraham Lincoln. She is reading a book about him called Team of Rivals. This book discusses Lincoln in great detail and must be totally fascinating because Kaz keeps telling me about these awesome things Lincoln did. It is only 600+ pages.

And to top it off, on this day in 1860, Abraham Lincoln was elected as the 16th President of the United States, the first Republican to hold that office.

So Happy Birthday Kaz, It is a pleasure growing old with you...

Apologies Again

The Owen photos are up from last month finally. I apologize again for our delay. The turn around time seems to be a bit long these days. I weed through the photos, glean out the ones I want and then George has to format and touch them up, which is difficult since he's working long hours and constantly spending his free time trying to get one or both of our vehicle running. Anyway, I digress. Here they are and enjoy. We have some more movies coming soon as well so hang in there. And I guarantee you'll love the pictures from this month- George took some really fabulous ones, including the one you see in the previous post. But you'll just have to wait until December to get a preview of those.

Cars are evil and practically useless, unless you need to get somewhere

Today, while I took a couple pictures of Owen in the leaves, Kaz and Miles were off to hike in the mountains. I thought it would be good for Kaz to get away from some of us, I know I would get away from me if I could sometimes. The truck had some problems last week starting, but I thought it was a dead battery, so I bought I new one and everything was good. Kaz hasn't used the truck since last weekend, so the truck has sat in the same spot. No one has determined if the truck is "fixed" or not. But I figured everything was good to go after the new battery install.

After 175 pictures and a video, I went inside to hear the phone ring and the doorbell ring. Kaz was on the phone telling me the truck is dead, and our friend Scott, who lives down the street, was coming to tell me that Kaz is looking for my picture-taking-ass. Kaz's has been waiting 20+ minutes. and was only 4 miles down the road. DAMMIT!!!! Apparently I'm an ass because I told her to take the cell phone in case the truck is not working, but I didn't take the cell phone out back. I went to get the truck, reset the computer by unhooking the battery, and the truck started. Obviously the truck is running windows...

I am so tired of vehicles. The past 3 weeks has totally sucked car ownership. I am not grateful to be part of the car driving populace. Three weeks ago our new sweet car wouldn't start. But magically it started again. Then two weeks ago it left me stranded at work. I thought it was a sensor, replaced it, and it still wouldn't work. But then it started. I worked some more, and then it wouldn't start, so I called Kaz to pick me up. Right before she got there, I tried once more and the car started. So I drove it home, only having it die once more before getting home. I finally got it home.

The next day I went to a junk yard to buy a Ignition Control Module for $20. I think it ended up being that because it hasn't had a problem since. Except for three nights ago when it died after going over a speed bump. But we're not thinking about that. It was because I had only 2 gallons left in the tank and the fuel pump went dry. (At least this is the story I am sticking with).

So now the truck is unreliable, the car is somewhat unreliable. I am tired of working on vehicles. I want a car that I can count on. Get in and go. I know the truck is 8 years old with 100,000 miles. The car is 18 years old and has 218,000 miles. I guess I should expect some things to go wrong. But I really can't wait for... our new Mazda 3 5-door. Yes, we ordered one 2 months ago and it is still in Japan. We should get it after T-day. I can't wait. I don't mind having such an old car. I really enjoy the car. But I really dislike not having something to count on. I thought the truck was that, but I guess I have something else to fix now. Maybe it's the ICM?

And I gotta say, it is so nice having friends who happen to live down the street. Scott and Lauren are our new friends who live down the street. I think they have now helped us out of a jam 3 times with our cars. How sweet is that? Without them I have no idea what we would have done. At least we haven't spent money on an auto repair shop or towing yet. But I'm just waiting for it to happen. But in 6 weeks, we'll have a brand new 2007 car that should be reliable for at least 7-8 years. That would be sweet.

Abdominable Baby

Owen and I walk the dogs every morning during the week, usually right after breakfast. In the summer this worked well because it was usually the coolest part of the day. Now that fall is fully in swing, it means some very cold temperatures. Like 21 this morning... brrrr! Here's what Owen wears to stay warm:

One dry (hopefully) diaper
A long sleeve flannel onsie
Fleece lined overalls
Woolen socks
Close knit, heavy sweater
Suede boots
A fleece lined, corduroy peacoat
One woolen knit cap
Mittens
A stroller "cold weather boot" (it's like a parka for your stroller)

After operation dressup, I deposit him in his stroller but he can barely sit because he's just one big ball of insulated baby. During our trek around the neighborhood, his arms stand out at attention from either side of his stroller as if he is permanently waving and when some noise catches his eye and he turns his head, all he can see is the edge of his coat hood. I'll have to snag a picture for you soon so you can see the torture Owen must endure. We'll have to switch to afternoon walks soon.