fricka - leader of the nerd herd

Vermillion SD to Sheridan Wy 638 miles 8 hours & 42 minutes

2015-07-16T01:19:00.001-05:00

Yesterday my loving husband and I did something we've never done in our 14 years together. We put a giant suitcase thing on top of our mini van, filled it with stuff one needs to live on the road and in a mini van for 8 days and we took off on a road trip. Like a for real road trip, not a cruise to Minneapolis.

We have to be in Seattle on Thursday July 17th and we decided to drive there and most people were like "Why not just fly?" and "Oh that is going to be a long drive, gas is expensive, you'll never get hotels during tourist season." So much hostility towards the road trip option, so much negativity. I do understand the hate for the 1500 mile road trip because I have kids. Which brings me to the reason we decided to do this: no kids.

I love my babies, I truly do. Like momma gorilla, carry them around by the feet, give them all day piggy back rides, pick the bugs off their nappy little heads kind of love them. I feel like I need to say that before I say this: I dislike them on car rides.

It starts with who gets shotgun (we had to make a frick'n schedule so no one would die in a fist fight) and it never ends. The length of the car ride matters not. Trip to HyVee for green onion brats = who gets control over the music (in our house it's either the grown up or the person not riding shotgun). Everything is an argument: where every one's gear sits,who gets to charge their phone next, who made the bad smell, who has to sit next to Liam and answer his endless, breathless stream of 5 year old questions.

"Momma do you think it's a good idea for me to wait until I'm 12 to watch Jurassic Park? I feel like it's pretty aggressive for 5 year olds."

So we said yes to 2.5 days alone in a car, because...no kids. We said yes to 1500 miles because in 14 years, we've taken zero real road trips and all our mini road trips have been with children, speed racing to the destination to get the hell out of the car.

So here we are, alone together for 8 + hours in the swagger wagon on day one and so far kind of overwhelmed by how fantastic it's been.

Once we cleared the Mitchell SD exit, Brandon was further west than he had ever been. I have completed to I90 trek to Wyoming more times than I can remember. At some point I became desensitized to the beauty of western South Dakota, but seeing it with Brandon made those miles new again.

I miss the city and so I forget the importance and the beauty of wide open spaces. I miss the city and so I forget to listen to the peace in the quiet. Brandon misses the city, but he knows when something is worth his time, worth exploring, worth acknowledging. When to say yes that, but don't ignore this.

As we wrapped up our first day, we faced 1.5 hours of Wyoming I90 to Sheridan. The wind blew in a dark band of intimidating clouds. Immigrant Song made a perfectly time classic rock radio appearance as we raced to beat the rain. Thunder, lightening, but the sunset continued, guiding us west, peaking under the storm clouds. I realized that I was in the presence of a phenomenon my friend Regina loves to document. The Wyoming sunset. So, for my friend Regina...my first Wyoming Sunset in 22 years.

The road

2015-07-14T11:21:00.001-05:00

Blog post July 14 2015. Road trip with my main squeeze. Ragnar Northwest Passage. Stay tuned.

This one time, I blogged for 4 months

2015-01-18T18:12:00.003-06:00

This was so much harder than blogging, but it was so important for me to do it. I could have just sent out an awesome photo album (which I am going to do) or I could have linked to a bunch of separate videos, but even 4.5 months later, these 4 days were so incredibly meaningful and beautiful they need to be preserved with photo, video, music and love.

So I tried to do that. In a program I've never used before on my fancy new Mac I almost chucked out the window as I struggled with this. This was my toughest, slowest leg. 20 hours. I'm officially in training for doing a better job after Seattle:)

Here you go Bamboozlers, proof of the awesome thing you did. Proof that 6 semi strangers can live in a commercial van for 2 days without sleep, proper hygiene or proper food safety storage and come out life long friends.

We may do many more Ragnars, and they will all be amazing in their own ways. But there will never be another first Ragnar. We will never again meet for the first time. We will never again be blown away by how well we click or how lucky we each are to know the one person that could link us all together.

We will gather in our post race rental house year after year, exhausted and totally high on the vibe from this group being together again, but we will always remember our first night in the house in "witch town."

And how badly Jim disappointed his team. Never be Jim.

And how to sleep 6 comfortably in a van, in a parking lot with about 700 of your new friends.

And that nothing feels better than pooping in a Honey Bucket for the first time.

And which reflective vests are not runner friendly.

And how to make up the best card/dance game ever.

And how natural sister wifing really is.

And how to never make fun of a hooker witch.

And how to drive a commercial van down death mountain.

And how incredibly hard it is to realize its all over and we have to return to the little corners of life without our new friends.

Like our next Ragnar, the next movie will be easier in some ways and that will be nice. But there is something to be said for things being new, outside our comfort zone, really difficult and really challenging.

Beautiful things come from those experiences.

BAMBOOZLERS!

Ragnar 2014 the Bamboozlers Movie

Miscellaneous

2014-02-25T18:09:00.000-06:00

Stuff I never finished. The frustrated writings of someone searching for her voice again. Things I thought I'd come back to, but did not. Little snack size crazy bits for you. Enjoy 2012 ya'll.

6.18.2012
Before I forget...

I remember when I was in college and was blissfully aware that what I was doing, the life I was living, my insanely intense focus on being "in the moment" was just a blip on life's radar. I knew that. So I lived it man. I loved like I was going to get hit by a townie on my way to lab. I partied like it was 1999. I learned...everything...all of it...anything. I was a sponge. And I knew, always I knew, it was a blip.

One of the greatest joys during those 4.5 years was realizing that I had $5.00 left in my checking account and could indeed go to mug night. Remember...every experience was equal then, they all had potential to change my life, everything had promise of something amazing. Even mug night at the Safari Lounge. Five $1.00 mugs of beer may lead to nirvana.

I share this only because just now, I was teary eyed in my kitchen. I was overwhelmed by a surge of joy. The love of my life is on his way home from work in Sioux Falls, an hour away. He picked up our girls from a visit with a very different, very young love of my life, my x husband. They are coming home. For the record, I am a firm believer in the idea that one can have more than one "love of your life." I've had three. Love is not a "one and done" deal. Life often fucks with love and sometimes, love conquers all. But other times, "all" conquers love and we are left with nothing but tattered pieces of our hearts, damaged and mourning the loss, but most importantly, with an opportunity to learn how to love better.

Anyway, I'm thumbing through my favorite recipe books for a recipe for the fresh cod I picked up for tonight. One worthy of the WELCOME HOME I have in my head. I'm sipping on my absolute favorite Cab and Pirates of The Caribbean is on. Don't underestimate how important that last part is. It could be Edward Scissor Hands, or The Fifth Element, or The Color Purple or The Big Labowski or any of the Lord of The Rings movies. It could be a lot of movies, but having one of my favorites spontaneously appear on regular TV while I'm cooking is tear worthy.

And for a second I laughed out loud at how our greatest joys change as we move through life. Having 5 bucks was just as joyful as this is, it really was. I love that I can remember the joys of all the phases of my life so far.

And that my friends....is how my brain works when I'm cooking on a Monday.

6.26.2012

Anytime I think about blogging these days, it's a frantic rush to write down what is in my head. Often times I'm not making it, I'm not getting this stuff down and when I do it sounds more like:

"Dear Diary, today I washed my car and vacuumed it out REAL good. Also, I like cheese."

Delete.

I just plopped down to wax poetic about my perfect toast colored music festival tan and how seeing Tool for the 4th time felt just like falling in love for the first time. But my first pass at that sentiment read like:

"Dear Diary. This weekend I went to a concert in a park and I saw Tool again and it was good and I got a tan even though I used sunblock and Tool played all my favorite songs and I was close to the stage but this guy was mad cuz I kept hitting him in the head while I rocked my face off."

Delete.

Is this what writer's block is? I didn't think a blogger could get writer's block. I still have my kids, my dog, my husband, my wine addiction, my cookbook fetish, my love of changing seasons, my dance parties... blah blah blah. And I'm still all rainbows and giant colorful balloons & confetti happy about the goings on in my life. Whats missing are the words to tell you about it. I've lost them.

I'm pretty sure they are at the bottom of the stinky softball bag with an old diaper and some damp daycare shorts.

11.26.2012

"Deary Diary. Today I was driving to work and was slapped in the face with a story about a girl who refused to let age or social norms dictate the activities in life that would bring her joy. A super awesome cool girl who recognized that each stage of her life had value and importance and should not be diminished, forgotten or wished away. And then...I realized I had already started this story and locked in away in an unpublished blog post from the summer of writer's block."

True story. And as I was cruising to work, 70 mph on SD roads, trying to record my inspiration on my iphone's dicta phone thingamagjig I realized I'd written this story already, or at least the beginning of it.

For those of you trying to figure out if this is a flashback or foreshadowing, it's ...just...me. Spoiler alert...I'm that girl. And my inspiration this morning, driving at dangerous speeds on isolated SD roads, was my actually coming up for air after 2 months of pretty amazing moments. Some grown up professional and adult like, some hedonistic, free for all shaking off of said adulthood. And I was sort of reveling in my ability to do that, to live on both sides of the fence. To be a respected professional, a fairly "good kid" to my parents and a free spirit all at the same time.

Do not mistake this for boasting, it's not. It's a very calculated lifestyle, it's a refusal to move too far in either direction. Too far into socially unacceptable "slacker" and you miss the very real bonus points for financial stability, professional respect and the amazing high that comes along with being really good at something society deems valuable. But, too far into big time serious, get over yourself, career focused adulthood and you miss out on...life. Like the whole, entire, rest of your life. So sad. So scary to think about.

If I had to protect one or the other, it would not be the hyper adulthood life. Surprised? I like it, but if one had to go...that'd be the one.

But then I'd want to live modern communal style. Self sustaining farm, animals, home school, "it takes a village" style living. With gadgets of course. In my mind, modern communal living includes being on the grid.

So after several months of too much in one direction, I just righted the ship...big time (can I say "big time" without sounding like a d-bag?) Here's how it breaks down:

"Tomorrow may rain so...I'll follow the sun". The Beatles

For the love of gardening

2013-08-04T14:06:00.003-05:00

When I am lost, there are certain sounds, smells, tasks, visuals that can bring me home, help me find my way back to myself.

Sometimes there is a "recipe". If I am feeling disconnected from my roots, I visit my grandmother. Her voice, the food she prepares for me (somehow she is always making my favorite German foods when I need her to be). One bite of Grandma's rhubarb kuchen and I'm transported to my most happy place. The farm, open windows, the summer breeze that back then always kept the farm house plenty cool. Taffy pulls, dandelion wine, taming barn cats and corn on the cob. The only consistent home I knew for many many years. Transported back in time, not via the flux capacitor, but a bite of rhubarb kuchen.

Tombstone Pepperoni pizza and Fresca? My mom's Thursday night bowling league in Webster. Allowed to stay up past my bedtime, the cheers of local bowling heros, falling asleep across two plastic bucket seats on the highly polished hard wood.

Mogan David red wine with 7-Up in a tiny but heavy silver chalice? Christmas Eve at dinner.

The salty, beefy goodness of beef jerky or the quirky sweet & salty treat of peanuts in Pepsi (yup that's right...peanuts IN Pepsi)? Childhood every other weekend rituals with my Dad Mario.

The feeling of packed dirt under my fingernails and a fine layer of black dirt dust over my entire body is like a security blanket. No matter where I am, those familiar sensations ground me to my childhood home and my grandparents. The act of growing food & flowers taps into an inner peace saved only for the acts of hard work and producing something important. Like clean food for my family and flowers to brighten days.

The David Wattier Memorial Garden was born last year in tribute to my Grandpa Wattier who passed away in April 2012.

This year the David Wattier Memorial Garden began indoors in early April, on a sick day, with David Wattier's great grandson's little pre schooler hands tilling the soil of egg cartons. It was to be the first year we started our own seedlings using all organic seeds. The 23 windows in our office have been begging for the opportunity to double as a greenhouse and winter had firmly dug in it's heels. Liam and I were home contagious, but not sick enough to burn a day sleeping.

And so we began:

When Liam saw the pink birthday table cloth make it's second appearance in a week, he was so excited. He had no idea why, but surely it meant some kind of party was about to happen.

And when I placed the egg cartons we'd been saving out in front of him, his enthusiasm did not diminish, but he did need a moment to contemplate what kind of party this could be.

He had been eyeballing this box on my sewing desk for weeks, always asking what I was putting in it. Could he open it? What's it for mommy? When he realized this was to be the center piece of our weird egg carton and pink plastic floor party he was all about it.

His wonderful preschool grows their own food in a garden next to the building and the kids get to work in it every day, so upon opening the box, he understood that we were about to have a planting party. He recognized the tomatoes first and quickly declared they were all his to plant.

April and May blizzards continued but the 120 seedlings flourish under east facing windows and grow lights in our office.

We waited.

And while we waited, we reveled in all things spring. Spring flowers, spring birdies, spring mud, spring blizzards.

poor strawberries

We had so many new birds in our backyard this year! I've been trying to attract a variety of birdies since we moved in and this spring...success!

And then, right after the Cinco de Mayo blizzard, the sun came out and beckoned us to bring those babies out into the garden so she could help them grow big and strong. That was how Liam told the story anyway. I liked it.

And into the ground they went. The ground, some buckets, some old soup cans, old flower pots. Turns out 120 seedlings is...a lot.

Here is what we planted:
Summer squash, zucchini, cucumbers, about 4 varieties of tomatoes, cilantro, Serrano peppers, jalapeno peppers, habanero peppers, "hot" peppers, chives, lavender, dill, spinach, arugula, scallions, garlic, carrots, sunflowers and beans,

The 2013 David Wattier Memorial Garden was on track to be the healthiest, most fruitful garden thus far in our gardening career. All natural, all organic, homegrown, food for my family.

Until... well...let's just say what I knew about chemicals was next to nothing. I read the label. Shouldn't the label say it's not safe near gardens on the OUTSIDE, rather than on page 10 of the insert? And now I know about "drift". How come "drift" never came up all those summer days in the garden with Grandpa?

When I called the number on the back of the weed killer, which was never intended for the gardens, but the walking paths around them, I was told by the nice lady that none of my garden plants were not salvageable. None. Even if they didn't die, any fruits they produced for the rest of the season would not be edible.

I kept it together while speaking to her, but when I called my husband, who was waiting for me at Annika's softball game, all I managed to get out was "something bad happened" and the rest was drowned in tears. Poor Brandon was panicked, he couldn't understand a word I was saying and it is so unlike me to break down so utterly and completely. He listened through tearful heaves and heard words like "Ortho...weeds...toxic...unsafe...garden..." and said "The garden? You killed the garden? That's all?" And then a soft laugh, "Oh baby I'm sorry."

So, here we are 2 months later with a much smaller version of the David Wattier Memorial Garden. Actually, it could be called the David Wattier Salsa Garden. All in pots because the soil is no good until next season. I'm over the loss of the first garden, I've taken note of the silver lining, the opportunity to learn something about giving up control, grieving and moving on, patience and hard work.

Things are coming along quite nicely.

Under the owl's watchful eye.

I love this little Dalia. There is something about her all bloomed in bright yellow color, but speckled in dirt that feels good to me.

Unbelievably, summer is winding down. How can that be? School starts in just 16 days, but there is still lots of time in the garden. And then lots of time harvesting and canning. I'm not wishing away these last days of summer though.

The glory of gardening: hands in the dirt, head in the sun, heart with nature. To nurture a garden is to feed not just on the body, but the soul.

Alfred Austin

Me...according to Pink

2013-04-12T23:41:00.000-05:00

One day at a Bare Minerals store in the mall:

Me (while looking at 1 million shades of beige mineral foundation)

"What do these do?"

Ms. Minerals

"That is your warmth and your radiance."

Me (mock confusion)

"Mine? My warmth and my radiance specifically?"

Ms. Minerals (does not think I'm funny)

"Yes. And here is your color and glow"

Me (now a smidge frightened by how serious she is)

"You have my warmth, my radiance, my color and my glow? Seriously, none of those things are registering on my face? I don't get it, how can this be? "

$250.00 later, I have them all in a shiny black bag. My warmth, my radiance, my pink colored cheeks and my glow. She had to teach me how to put them back on my face, but thank God I had them back.

So, I'm a realist, I call it like I see it and I am fully aware that life has faded some of the color and youthful glow from face. I wasn't really sweating it, but yeah, I've absolutely have days when I peer into the magnifying makeup mirror (standard issue post 40th birthday gear ) expecting to see me and I'm greeted by a puffy, pale, blotchy ...me. Bigger than life and sporting some wicked dark circles and new facial hair, but it's still me.

However, I was not prepared to be told by Ms. Minerals at the MALL that I had also lost both my warmth and my radiance. It was so matter of fact, the way she told me. Like "Duh. No one your age has warmth and radiance." Followed by very clear marching orders. If I didn't have any other makeup on, I HAVE to make sure to have warmth, radiance and blush.

I've never worn blush, except when I have a fever. Then I have a little blush on my cheeks and the whites of my eyes. So in my world, pink cheeks = sick human being.

I was surprised by my reaction to the news that basically I was walking around looking like a re-animated corpse, void of any proof of life on my face. Even though my logical mind was laughing at how the use of these words were playing out when said out loud, my emotional self was kind of hurt. Like she had just revealed a super secret everyone knew about me and I was too stupid to see. Like all along, I have been high on getting older and believing that the peace and joy and confidence I feel on the inside was being transmitted to the world through my face and all along the ugly truth was that no...it was not. In fact, all this time warmth, radiance, color...were gone. Poof!

And somehow this store in the Sioux Falls mall ends up with every aging woman's goods and sells them back to us.

"That is your warmth and your radiance."

Well trained consumer that I am, I accept this as truth, hand over my card and breathe a sigh of relief.

Not two days later I was sitting on a public toilet (like you do) and I look down to see this:

And again I'm at first wildy confused and then instantly horrified. Why are my pants telling me "I am confident"? Do I need my waist band to send me daily affirmations? Is there someone, somewhere, looking at the size of pants and yelling "This one needs a confidence message!"

I'd argue I'm more confident and secure in all aspects of my life than I have ever been. It is what brings me the peace I thought everyone was seeing on my face. But something about those pants made the manufacturer anticipate my need for boost of confidence near my zipper.

I don't know. It feels insulting. It feels manipulative. It feels like someone wants me to feel like crap about myself.

Ugh and maybe it feels a little too real. Maybe I really hate it when someone suggests that the number of my years means something other than that I 'm getting more fabulous each passing day. If after 40 you start paying for your self esteem and identity, I want more bang for my buck.

You know who totally knows how much I rock and sends me the RIGHT messages for my dollar?

This girl:

Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel
Like you're less than f*&king perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you're nothing, you're f*%king perfect to me

She knows how to motivate this girl.

Where there is desire
There is gonna be a flame
Where there is a flame
Someone's bound to get burned
But just because it burns
Doesn't mean you're gonna die
You've gotta get up and try, and try, and try
Gotta get up and try, and try, and try
You gotta get up and try, and try, and try

She totally knows me.

So raise your glass if you are wrong
In all the right ways, all my underdogs
We will never be, never be anything but loud
And nitty gritty, dirty little freaks
Won't you come on and come on and
Raise your glass!
Just come on and come on and
Raise your glass!

Knows what's up...

I can't help it, I like to party, it's genetic
It's electrifying wind me up and watch me go
Where she stops nobody knows
A good excuse to be a bad influence on you and you

Most importantly, she knows I'm still a rock star...I've got my rock moves.

I'll show you my warmth and radiance:

Yeah there it is. And I'm right...it only radiates more as I get older.

And for the record...all this was before I purchased my warmth, radiance, color and glow at the mall.

Boom.

“The scariest moment is always just before you start.” ― Stephen King, On Writing

2012-10-10T23:19:00.000-05:00

I'm pretty sure that somewhere in this blog I've ruminated on how I love this kind of tired, the kind that comes from loving people for a long weekend. The kind of weekend where you cannot get enough of your people, so you forego sleep in favor of endless catching up. You happily swap nutritious meals for sinfully delicious meals and water for dirty martinis. Clean air for a stogies. And if it's a wedding weekend your dirty hippie hemp shoes for some jacked up pumps.

My body aches like I ran a marathon, but it's really from the dancing. But epic, marathon dancing. For this wedding, interpretive dance, which I'm sure was a treat for everyone present. It was...epic. A million years ago, at a bar in The Shire, a person said to a friend of mine "she really gets like...in a trance when she dances huh? She's in her own little world." Yes, I do. Yes, I am. In my own little world. I'm a slave to the rhythm.

One of the most difficult transitions in my life has been the one from "dancer" to "former dancer" and for a while, I was always searching for some sort of outlet for my dance need, some beautiful group of colorful wood nymphs just waiting for me to complete their magical dancing troupe. But one year after another, one stress injury after another, one more kink here and there from arthritis and suddenly I'm no longer even a candidate for my imaginary enchanted forest dance group. I'm relegated to physical therapy rubber bands and a constant parade of new injuries...setbacks.

I hate it.

I feel a teenie tiny little bit of negativity in me, so now might be a good time to get this out of the way:

I'm not going to dwell on the last six month except to say it was my own fault. I let my work life balance slip. I got totally freaked out by the time commitment for a parent of two athletic and active girls. Two "joiners". I let everything that was mine go...just end. Writing, photography, my health. I let crap I hate is mine go too, house keeping, laundry, clean cars, clean body.

I had surgery that almost killed me and it scared the shit out of me. When my brain finds an idle second the memory of that day slams back into my head and it scares the shit out of me all over again. I'm sure I need a little help with this one and as I'm shoving myself back up the priority list, I'll get some. The very fact that I'm writing is progress. Now I just need to pick up my camera again. Fear...I hate it.

I haven't worked out since May 8th. Well, that's a lie. I did once, took off with my girls to train for a 5k and my hip snapped, face planting me into the road. I cried while I waited for my husband to come scrape me off the floor again. I was hurt, sprained knee, sprained wrist, but I can handle sports injuries, I'm not a dainty prissy girl. No, I cried because I can't just up and do things anymore and I probably hate nothing more than that.

I'm back to physical therapy rubber bands and "taking it slow".

I lost two Grandfathers.

I gained two heartbreakingly sad Grandmothers who I just want to bring home with me and take care of.

After 14 months in our new community, I will say we haven't figured this place out yet. Don't know where we fit in.

But...

I also witnessed the evolution of a girl. I watched my homesick Minnesotan slowly embrace some South Dakota. It wasn't so much a full on endorsement of life in the sticks, but the constant barrage of comparisons and negativity slowly gave way to mention of excitement for school, for particular people, for activities. And sure enough, school started and I felt her pull away from me a little. There is nothing as beautifully painful as watching your babies confidently leave you behind. For now it's just here and there, small, manageable tidbits of time and she is home to me again. But this is all just practice for what's coming. X 3.

And the other baby girl, found her sporty spice groove. Right now, she is an athlete and that's wicked cool. A fierce competitor, with almost no idea how to stop working to be the best. There is no balance for her right now, only the constant grind to perfection. I watch her, a proud momma , but I worry and stay close to provide perspective.

My favorite Liam stories for the summer? Easy. His impeccable ensembles, hand picked every day by the man himself.

That's all I have to say about that. That 6 months.

And today I'm exhausted. Good exhausted. Great exhausted. Mind, body and soul. It's been months since I've been completed tapped out by joy.

I love it.

72 hours with my husband's "people" from The Ulm. Everything flowing simply and with such ridiculous ease. And so much laughing. The laughing was so very good.

And in 4 days we have 48 hours with some of my people, my family people. Pumpkin decorating contests, 5ks, parade of lights, babies that haven't seen each other for months. Indian corn and craft shows. Thrift store shopping and a trip to Fiskstal's:) INTERNET AT MY GRANDMAS!!! It's time to get our Pumpkin Fest on.

It's been one million years since our faces have all been together at the farm. That's in sad little heart years. But in 2 short days this farm will be overflowing with all the goods. All the bigs and minis will descend on the family farm and in an instant it will come alive. Once again the families will laugh and sing and eat and shout and frolic and drink. We will watch the sun rise and set here for 3 days.

We will pile on to the already abundant life force this sacred place holds for each of us.

100 years of Wattiers, coming home again and again.

And of course...we will dance.

It feels go to let go of the scared:)

Hope you are still here<3

XOXOXOXO

hello....is there anybody out there?

2012-08-11T16:49:00.001-05:00

Hello. While my newly crowned 3 year old naps

I'm editing photos and writing for the first time in months.

This message is mostly for me.

Because I need to remember I can do all this!

I CAN DO ALL THIS!!!

and i miss you all here in this happy space. Are you still there?

stay tuned...

xoxoxoxo

the glamorous life of a breeder

2012-03-27T16:02:00.000-05:00

Started on 03/24/12

The last hour has been a text book example of why people may choose to not breed. I’m absolutely positive it is a text book example of why childless adults stare/glare/ scowl at us breeders. Even though we did NOT bring our 3 children into the truck stop (we know better and quite honestly don’t ever want to deal with that mess) we still managed to hold up about 10 weary travelers while we stood at the Caribou kiosk and ordered 5 different blended drinks, with very specific substitutions, in our own cups that they had to rinse.

We did it again as we ordered lunch for all 5 of us at the Subway kiosk.

And again at the regular check out as we grabbed, bought, changed our minds, grabbed, got sodas and road trip games, activities. People began to pile up behind us, heavy sighing as we quickly debated the merits of a Sudoku book vs. a cross word puzzle book.

When we are in total "parents on a road trip mode”, we don’t resemble the smart, professional people we are.

And when those stuck behind us in line exit the store to see the van doors open, toddler screaming, teenagers bickering about who has to sit by the dog I see them either smile sympathetically or roll their eyes in an exaggerated “ugh figures.” It’s okay, I get it. And at that moment, I’d rather sneak into their car and hide on the floor in the backseat, a stow away on my way to adventure. Because surely, their life is simple, sexy and glamorous whereas mine is hectic and sticky and smells like dog farts.

But then, we get to this part. Where everyone is fed and watered and I’ve already done my once a trip seat climb from the front of the van to the back because a teenager cannot seem to find something in my camera bag or Brandon’s backpack. This part…where the baby has finally stopped telling me he is “stuck” in his car seat and “momma help!” him get out “pweeez?” He’s asleep.

The girls aren’t fighting about seats.

Some progressive rock is moving the trip along nicely. A little Arriving Anywhere But Here seems appropriate.

And I’m finally getting some writing peace.

But any second now, someone will have to pee.

I have a Bachelors of Science in Political Science + it’s an election year = I’m in my element. I’d argue in the both the best and worst possible ways. In 2008 I had to stop watching cable news, I couldn’t unplug and my husband was going to have me committed. In 1012 it’s political blogs and FB pages. And it’s even harder to unplug and for a second my FB page transformed into a rather sarcastic, somewhat hateful politics page. I am angry about a lot of things and armed with like minded FB pages to feed my monster 24/7 I went on a bit of an election year politics bender. I feel sorry for my husband, having to live up to my level of outrage. I have let him off the hook, not everyone has to get into every battle, but it seems I do.

I’m not bringing politics to the Nerd Herd blog, because this place is a fairly neutral happy place, where our human similarities an appreciation for our differences are celebrated. That is as true as it is cheesy because unlike the real world, I can set the rules here and my rules are that this is a peaceful place. Diversity, co-exist, mother nature, WWJD…all of it…welcome here.

If there is one thing that has brought some sanity to my politically clouded mind lately its this glorious spring. Projects above and beyond the gardens are taking shape and piling up.

A garden shed under the deck.

A long weekend in Chicago.

The hunt for a cheap used pickup to haul garden/lawn waste.

A dog poop composter.

Farm projects like painting and refinishing hardwood floors.

Teaching Autumn to drive.

Training for the Warrior Dash.

Getting my back fixed.

This spring feels more like a new year…full of resolutions and a new beginning.

I’m not able to explain why, but when the gray blanket of winter lifted this year, I finally felt the relief and renewal that I’ve been waiting for since the 4 months in which Michelle and Maria both passed away. I’ve waiting anxiously for each season change, hoping to feel the “starting over” begin, but it never did.

Not even the move could bring a clean slate as leaving my cousin behind felt like abandoning him. Starting a new career sat 39 felt scary and risky.

But for some reason, it came with the warm days and sunshine of this spring. To be honest, it felt like the cloud lifted while we were in Las Vegas. I felt like a lot of things turned a corner there. I finally felt vested in the business, like I had a place in it where I was value added. I felt a shift in my relationship with my parents, from child who needs them to adult child who needs to care for them, to take some of the burden off their shoulders. I felt a shift with my baby boy, who was just fine without mommy for an entire week, just chill’n with his daddy. Autumn and I hung out like girlfriends, walking the strip until midnight, talking about school and photography and college plans.

I feel lighter and like I have a clearer purpose again. I’m not blowing around in the wind so much anymore, looking for something that feels permanent, something to hang on to until the storm is over. I feel more anchored, more secure.

And even though there are still very difficult things on the horizon, I feel like, to some degree, I've learned how this works, how to handle hard things. At least a little. Enough that maybe when the next thing comes, I won’t blow around in the wind for so long, lost to peace. And maybe I can even help someone else find their way.

Spring peace:

I'm a grape growing newb, so this was my first grape pruning ever. I'm so excited for this new growing adventure. If you are an experienced grap grower or jelly maker, I'm looking for a mentor!

We got a little crazy this weekend and took off on a last minute road trip. Our kids are finally old enough that we can actually pull off a somewhat spontaneous excursion. The directions went something like "throw some clean undies and snacks in a backpack! We're going to Minnesota!" It felt good. Just taking off, with very few things make me feel free, like I did in college, when I lived in a tent with my cat Chester Stubbs. And I want to teach my babies how to feel free, to be allowed to let go of "stuff", to walk away from real life once and a while.

Me thinks Liam has it in him.

And his dad...maybe does? Sort of?

It's the Naven Johnson list of things you need and then hit the road. All I need is clean skivvies, fruit leathers, sesame trail mix and a diet rite. Oh...and a bottle of wine for when we get there. And toys...

Is there anything better than two little boys who make fast friends over superhero action figures?

And him...

This has to be the best conversation Grandma Janine had all week.

And this the best wrestling match all week.

And wouldn't ya know it...an old bus, just sitting in the alley across from grandma's birthday party, begging for a family to gather around for a photo. Who am I to deny an old school bus some love?

Today my Mom and Grandma share a birthday. How fantastic is that gift...a baby on your birthday? We all converged on the family farm a couple of weekends to celebrate. Do you feel a party blog on the horizon? It's coming soon:)

But today...on her actual birthday, my mom is on the road, returning from her childhood home. She had to move her father into a nursing home, but first there was an ambulance ride and a 5 day stay in the hospital. It's been a tough week, not really birthday material.

She told me recently, that she is only now really feeling like a grown up. I can believe that. I can believe that everything else, having a big girl job, paying off cars, getting married, buying a house and raising children, can feel like playing grown up when compared to making decisions about how to best care for your 90 year old father. How to support your mother as she sleeps alone in an apartment for the first time in 68 years.

Yup, it's been a tough week and not really birthday material. I worry that mom feels like she is blowing around in the wind, with no safe place to go. The way I felt for so long. When she gets home tonight, I will offer up my little family as a safe place to park and recover a little. Maybe we can pack some clean undies and some fruit leathers and take a little trip, make her feel a little less like a grown up..if only for just a little while.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

it's all in my head

2012-03-14T06:39:00.000-05:00

Spring has sprung, the grass is risz. I wonder where, dem birdies is.

Every spring my mom says this. My entire life she has and I have no idea where it comes from. As I was typing it, I wasn't even sure how to spell ris..riz? And now, every spring as we clean up the winter mess and prepare for all that new growth goodness, I say this to my kids. I wonder if they will say it to their babies. I wonder if they will have any babies. Or gardens.

Right now, my head is trying to explode. Earlier today, while sitting in my office my left eye went fuzzy and began to water and I could feel it. A headache was crawling up the left side of my neck, wrapping itself around the base of my neck, squeezing and slithering into my brain. And a headache that acts like that is really trying to dig in, plant it's seed and blossom into a migraine.

The migraine. My mortal enemy.

In middle school, I used to tell my mom tales of mind melting headaches in class. Of blurry vision and near fainting spells. I could smell everything and hear a pin drop in pudding. The environment was overwhelming and frightening with these super hero powers. My mom does not really get headaches so the best I got was "Oh. You're too young to get headaches, it's all in your head." True story, she really told me my headaches were all in my head.

Until one day in study hall, I was in a "near fainting" episode and stood up to ask if I could go to the nurse and....BAM!!! Face first into the library carpet. "Near fainting" graduated to "for real fainting" and thus began my long term relationship with migraines.

The jury is out on if this bad boy will indeed become a full blown migraine or if it's just a wanna be. When I bend over, my left ear crackles, like someone is crumpling up tissue paper. Stay tuned. If I'm blogging from my bed tomorrow, in the dark, with an icepack over my eyes, you will know I'm on a 48 hour date with the devil.

For the last two days I've been carrying around volumes of flowery words for spring in my head, anxious to sit down and write a love song to the spring that has finally broken one of the shortest and most boring winters ever. Two snow storms does not a winter make. One day in snow pants is not the stuff of winter wonderlands and sometime in late January I declared that if winter is going to be this...lame (do the kids still say "lame?") then it should just move over and let spring do it's thing.

And looky here, spring has sprung. 81 degrees today was a bit much, that can wait until May thank you very much. But the 70 degree days can stay and whisper sweet nothings in my ear. Talk me into cleaning the garage on a Monday night after work or spend the entire weekend starting seeds in the house, cleaning up garden spots and pruning grape vines.

It feels so good to be outside in the dirt. I missed it so last year. It hurt my heart to not plant and grow food. To instead just keep the landscaping in check for a future renter. It was double difficult knowing the house we have here in SD has twice the garden spots and was left to grow wild until I arrived. I just did what I could when I got here in late July. But this year, it's all mine baby.

Composter - check

Dog poop composter - check

Rain barrel - check

Bird houses, feeders and baths - check

Toddler gardening gear - check (thanks Grandma)

"Pinning" endless pictures of canned good and garden sheds - check (Pintrest holds all my gardening dreams)

Indoor growing area - check (not for that!!!)

And the star of the show this early spring....drum roll please...............

CLOTHES LINE!

Were it not for this fracking headache, I would wax poetic about these first 4 days of spring and all my early spring follies. How I've planned and re planned our gardens and how I'm going to grow lettuce for the first time ever.

But sometimes, when you are heavily medicated, it's better to just go to the photos.

Making pancakes for a toddler = cooking peace

Our baby boys becoming little boys = bitter sweet celebrations

I went to pick up Autumn's clarinet and left with the clarinet and these drums.

Spontaneous drum purchase = future full of drum inspired dance parties. Just ask Liam. He was sooo excited.

Just look at him, he can hardly contain himself.

Seasonal coffee mugs, I have to have them. I cannot transition from one season to the next with stale mugs. They don't have to be new, but they do have to be perfect.

Like my bird & flower mug. As I sat on the deck Saturday morning, it was the inspiration for the first 5 plans for the gardens.

What will these gardens be when they grow up?

What will he be when he grows up?

You know, besides a super hero?

For those of you wondering, the score is headache 1 me 0. Time to go.

I leave you with visions of summer brews dancing in your head.

Peace. XOXOXOXOXO

on my walls i would write...

2012-03-01T00:10:00.000-06:00

For about a nano second I thought I was going to sit down tonight and throw down some hump day nuggets and mildly pleasing photos from the last few days. Maybe have a beer or a glass of wine with my nuggets. I'm so crazy.

No, instead there has been a frantic realization of a 4 minute speech that is due tomorrow. A speech with a written version, complete with citation page, visual aids (that must be creative and unique) and a costume. The topic? Courtship and marriage in the Elizabethan Era. Which, by the way, is a shockingly unpleasant topic. Sure, they had fantastically stunning clothing, but as is all too common throughout history, marriage was mostly just a way to sell your daughter to the highest bidder. Be it a hefty dowry or prestige and honor, girls of that day had a price tag. It didn't take long for a study of then...to turn into a comparison to now, to morph into a current events lesson. We took on some heavy topics tonight.

But, 4 hours later...done. BAM! Moms are magic. Just so you know.

And now, at 10 PM a round of nuggets seems less like relaxing wine sipping therapy and more like frantic homework. Since I'm all in high school mode tonight, I'm going to call NOT FAIR that I had to do homework all night instead of chill out like I wanted to. ~dramatic, exaggerated outrage~

For those who are about to cry foul and shake a finger at me for "doing" her homework....shhhhh. I wish I was the kind of mom that just did it, it would be easier. No, in our house it means I get to check sources, proof read, make recommendations, read second, third and fourth versions, insist on more "creative" visual aids, mock score each category to ensure we are catering to the teacher's preferences.

Seriously, give me a diet Rite and some proper 90's metal and I'll make short work of any project. Or proper 90's dance tunes..."Rhythm is a Dancer" will do the trick.

And now here she is with geography homework. We need a postcard that represents Sweden and it's most well known geographic feature.

::

Remember this little piece of inspiration?

We return to it tonight to finish this:

On my walls I would write...

love song lyrics

hear beats fast

colors and promises

how to be brave

how can I love when i'm afraid to fall

but watching you stand alone

all of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow

one step closer

i have died everyday waiting for you

darling don't be afraid

i have loved you for a thousand years

i'll love you for a thousand more

promises to my daughters. I promise to always be brave and fight the good fight

our love story <3

i own my past, it is what makes me who i am today

strong is sexy, soft is sexy, being a great partner is sexy, so is having an opinion

you can't have it all, i know my priorities

i will dance wherever i want

i can't live without music

i miss the inner circle

twing
hot thomalla
tt

I'd love to know even one thing you would write on your wall. It's late, go ahead and share, it's just us girls here anyway:)

Only 2 minutes until it's tomorrow. Homework is done and this momma is feeling quite accomplished tonight.

WOOT! XOXOXOXOXOXO

nerd weekend

2012-02-27T06:00:00.000-06:00

Sunday night. All my nerds sitting at their various stations, doing nerd things. Annika spent the day discovering the Starcraft Brood war while Brandon and I dropped $20.00 on the Starcraft 2 Major League Gaming tournament online. We plugged a laptop into our office/family room TV and parked on the couch for the last two days. We set up camp so that we could parent and veg out simultaneously. The mornings were reserved for heavy toddler activity, lots of coloring, Spanish & French flash cards, super hero play with all Liam's "guys". Around lunchtime, we would load up Liam's favorite orange plate with all his favorites, green beans, cheese, french bread and a fruit cup. When you are trying to balance good parenting with super nerd, you stick with the favorites so as not to disrupt the perfect harmony.

During some tournament downtime, Autumn made a red velvet cake.

During nap times we started playing the game Brandon bought me for Valentines Day, Final Fantasy XIV.

I'm fully aware 90% of you will have no idea what I'm talking about, but in my world, this is one of about 3 versions of a perfect weekend. This is the "nerds only" version, where everyone gets to be a kid for 48 hours. Meals aren't really planned, we actually stop to get enough soda for a weekend (normally not found in our house in any great quantity) and no makeup, pigtails and comfy sweats rule.

There are no schedules, no bedtimes, no wake up calls, no projects.

As a rule, both Brandon and I prefer to stay home. We love to do this nerd thing, but also to paint or sew or garden or read or order in all weekend with a great bottle of wine while we avoid outside commitments. It's tough to get us out of the house.

But sometimes we do get out and...oh I don't know...do something like...go to Vegas.

::

Vegas. I have been there many times. First as a fairly young child of about 5 I guess. Since then, I honestly can't tell you how many times I've been there, simply because many were when I was so young, the trips are kind of crammed together in my head. It's a mashup up of Circus Circus, red carpets and lots of mirrors. Sparkly gold gilded smoke filled rooms and shows.

One spring break in college stands out. I went with my best friend. One of the best trips of my life, so much laughing. It was on that trip that my mom and I transitioned from mother/daughter to our brand of mother/daughter/friendship. I think we all have a period of time or moment when we look at our parents and see real adult human beings, rather than our perfect or imperfect mom and dad. We start to cut them some slack and understand that they are just regular schmoes like us. It was on this trip that I looked up and saw my in my mom a person, a woman independent of the nurturer who raised me. It was a good trip and a different Vegas experience.

A couple of trips up when I lived in Phoenix, but was too poor to do anything but people watch, which is really the best use of one's time in Vegas.

And now again on a business trip, which meant yet another version of Vegas. Early morning seminars and speakers. Suits + heels = blisters from running from one venue to the next. Business cards, names to remember, happy hours to have just enough to be charming, not enough to be loud. Oh the balancing act, it was exhausting.

I brought my baby girls to see the bright lights, glitz and glamor. The spectacle of entire regions of the world confined to several city blocks. To see shows on such grand scales it boggles the mind and some on such a small cheesy scale you can only say "that's Vegas baby".

We stayed at Caesars Palace, the same place the guys from The Hangover stayed. This was huge for the girls. Autumn got to stand in front of the Bellagio at midnight and watch the same water show they watched after the big heist in Ocean's 11. I don't remember if I had a Vegas movie memory the first time I went, but it absolutely came up again and again with my kids, a product of our nerd movie weekends I'm sure.

Every morning Autumn and I would wake up around 4 am and fight to get back to sleep. After it was clear we were not transitioning to the new timezone, we'd watch the sunrise. Every single morning I sat on the floor with my oldest baby girl, coffee in hand, in front of the giant window facing the strip...watching the sun come up over a city that ignores the night.

And every morning Autumn would say "hey Mom. We're in Vegas."

What will stick with me about this trip, is seeing my girls actually have some fun together. We are smack in the middle of teenage/tween/puberty/bratty little sister/mean big sister years. They almost never laugh together and cannot be in the same space together without bickering about absolutely everything. They appear to be used to it, or feel like this is all normal. But I hate it, I hate them being unkind to each other and refuse to give up the fight for civility in my home.

This didn't stop on this trip, but be still my heart...they actually had some fun together.

I learned that most places in Vegas do not want you snapping photos inside. And I barely had time to do any touristy photography anyway. But when I look at all the pictures of the trip I'm so thankful I got these.

Apparently 65 degrees is too cold for swimming in Nevada. Wimps.

But pools make fantastic natural light photos studios:)

As always, you can see more shots of daily life at my other little blog project Wings for Maria .

6 days in Vegas is a long time. On the second day my mom got deathly ill, on the fourth my dad. I desparately missed my boys. It was difficult to balance being where I should have been for work and networking and being where I wanted to be... taking care of my mom, spending warm, sunny afternoons with my girls or even feeling like I should never have gone at all, leaving Brandon home with the baby for so long.

It wasn't like running around Circus Circus with a bag of quarters.

It sure wasn't like spring break in college.

Even with the hiccups, it was better. I was there as a professional in a role I can be proud of. I was there as a daughter in awe of what her parents have accomplished. I was there as a mother wanting to show her growing daughters yet another glorious take on how to live your one wild and precious life.

It was a good 6 days in Vegas and this was a good nerd weekend at home.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

follow me follow me!

2012-02-07T04:00:00.000-06:00

I love me some Friday night tired. It's the content warm tingling of an exhausted body, having completed a full week of work, child rearing, good wifing and healthy "ish" living. As with all good Friday nights, I'm still stuck in my work clothes because I've spent the night not worrying about schedules and routines, instead indulging each family member with time. Time to recap the week, catch up on the drama, plan the weekend. I don't cook on Friday's, we grab and sit in shifts, so that each person gets their own time with each parent. Some of us eat, while the other's play cards. Some play cards while one of us gives Liam a bath. Fridays are a free for all love fest with no rules about what you eat, when you eat it or where.

On a weeknight, I enforce a fairly rigid schedule of chores, homework, dinner time and bedtime. There is always a smattering of dance parties and orange soda happy hours because all work and no play makes momma freak out a little. But every night at the exact same time the kids heads hit the pillow...I turn into a pumpkin.

A couch pumpkin.

But on Fridays, I'm in it until the end baby. Did you know that "the end" of a Friday night is 11pm? True story. For me it is anyway and if I make it that long, I fee kind of like a rock star. Sometimes I worry I'm making my kids super lame. My 15 year old daughter just woke up from a half hour nap on the floor to tell me she is going to bed. 15 and turning in at 10pm on a Friday night. Does that mean I'm doing a good job? Or a terrible job?

2.6.12

I cannot prove this, but I know Liam lays in his toddler bed, waiting to hear the sound of my ass hitting the pleather of my office chair. Waiting for the sound of fingers being gingerly placed on the keyboard and for the deep cleansing breathe his momma takes at the end of the day, when she thinks she has some time to her self to write, or edit photos, or blog stalk. Or maybe have a good laugh at Damn You Auto Correct. Or a good cry in front her her computer so that she can blame it on something there, but really just cuz she needs a good cry.

He waits and when he hears any combination of these things, he gets sick. BAM. And stays sick for days, irritable & adorably pathetic, needy and cuddly, demanding and helpless against his booger nose. And this guarantees my undivided attention day and night, I'm locked in.

This phenomenon is the reason I cannot piece together a blog more than once a week if that. I have dozens of one paragraph blogs, all begun in a sincere moment of inspiration to write, to share something, interrupted by the crocodile tears of a my little prince.

His little voice breaks me down to the very core. When he looks at me and uses his new big boy words he gazes into my eyes. He is like his dad that way, always flirting, always looking into you, never just at you.

"Momma sleepa Liam?"
"Come on momma...follow me follow me!"
"One more book?"

And when I give in and climb into his narrow twin bed with him, suffering the panda pillow pet as my only option, he touches my face and confirms "Momma sleepa Liam?"

"Yes baby, momma will sleep with Liam."

He touches my face, tracing my eyes and nose, whispering what he knows "eyes...nose...cheeks...boca". Almost without exception, he puts me to sleep with his face tickles.

And this is why my blogs are so few and far between these days. I thought you should know.

::

I have never felt like I had to go out looking for inspiration for my writing or photography. I don't do either as a source of income, just for creative therapy which allows me a lot of room to move in. I'm accountable to no one and if suddenly no one read this blog, I'd still write it.

With that big a playground to play in, virtually no rules about how and why I do this, it's easy to do. Inspiration is automatic, just write what I want.

But you should never ignore inspiration when it kisses you right on the mouth. That would be rude.

I was gifted inspiration once before and it about sent me into orbit. I've been gifted inspiration again.

I love this book, this journal. I want to carry it around with me at all times and live the life that I imagine as I fill in the blanks. So I have been.

I'm going to tackle each unfinished answer here as well. One by one, on no particular timeline with no particular agenda.

I'm feeling like stretching myself, exploring and learning something new about myself. I'm feeling like growing and moving towards something.

::

I made the cake. I'm making a lot of cakes lately because of a cake plate we found at a thrift store. It's perfect and begs for a cake. See...inspiration.

I did not make the lovely pot holder, but I want it.

I did drink the wine and the beer.

There is that Superman t-shirt again. Heaven help us when he outgrows it.

We got snow! It was short lived, but it allowed Liam the chance to wear his new snow pants and boots. Wouldn't you know it, the first year I've EVER had my poop in a group enough to have everyone geared up for winter before it starts, and it doesn't start. Unbelievable.

But for one day, I had some snow babies.

I needed there to be some kind of cold snap, some kind of warm cozy snowed in day. I was pouty about the non winter winter. I guess this will have to do. At least I got pictures. And now spring can come.

::

We've given the girls a choice:

Quinceanera

Sweet 16

Autumn chose Quinceanera - (lit. meaning One (f.) who is fifteen), sometimes called "Fiesta de quince años", "Fiesta de Quinceañera", "Quince años" or simply "quince", is the celebration of a girl's fifteenth birthday in parts of Latin America and elsewhere in communities of people from Latin America. This birthday is celebrated differently from any other birthday, as it marks the transition from childhoodto young womanhood.^[1] The celebration, however, varies significantly across countries, with celebrations in some countries taking on, for example, more religious overtones than in others.

Good thing they can vary because her's is a Japanese flavored quinceanera lacking entirely in religious overtones.

I am so very excited for this party. It's all her, I'm just here to make sure it all comes together for her. It's Japanese food and language, anime and cosplay and of course...the Anime Detour. It's a weekend party in Minneapolis, it could be no other place with no other people.

The invitations are done, complete with origami crane gift from the birthday girl herself.

I am so very excited for this party.

Back to the book...or rather the journal. Feel free to play along, it's simple. Just finish the unfinished.

Chapter 1 - A Handmade Life (identity)

My body is holding onto...

baby fat

mystery pain

youth

the dance

the urge to go...somewhere

it's early morning internal alarm

the force

power

junk food

the rhythm

fatigue

a more comfortable version of itself

Ahhhh a completed post. Feels good:) XOXOXOXOXOXO

ode to the joy of a couch

2012-01-21T23:10:00.002-06:00

Note: For the 33 of you that have already read the sleepy, first edition of "Ode to the couch" blog, stick around for the photos. For the rest of you...this is all new information. Kisses.

::

I'm coming to you live, from my new couch. The one that feels like a velvet covered cloud and is the soothing color of a perfectly sweet creamed coffee. We've had the couch for a week and 2 days and I haven't done one single bit of evening physical activity since this beautiful creature came in to our lives. I cannot resist the chase lounge, the over stuffed pillows. We've even spent the night on it. Both of us. And we slept better than we do in our bed. This could be very very bad.

I've caught up on about 5 tv shows that I never even heard of before. Which is easy because I don't really watch tv. I have accidentally found some tv I enjoy via the netflix, but hulu is a different game entirely. Hulu and this couch have given me blogger's block. Every time I belly up to my desk to write, I get tense and figity, distracted by the siren song of the couch and the hulu.

It took me a week and 2 days to give up the fight and cave completely, bringing the laptop to the couch. My giant comfy blanket and my holiday jammie pants are made of the same material. I'm encased in velvety goodness, velcroed to this spot, peering over the top of my laptop fearful that the witch hunters will burn to to get rid of her dark magic. Name the terrible CW show.

But the writer's block is gone:) When you can't move your ass from the couch to the desk, bring the desk to the couch I guess. And then write about said couch.

This is no way to get ready for the Warrior Dash or a Tough Mudder or even the Pumpkin Festival 5k. I feel an intervention coming.

Or, it could be that my body needs this little piece of heaven just now. I have been crazy content, it's been building day by day since December. I'm taking deeper breathes, reading books, cooking new meals from new cookbooks. I'm journaling meals, complete with pictures, giddy with the idea that someday the girls will pick up this "cookbook" to find not only delish recipes, but their momma's sense of humor, and memories of how we always partied in the kitchen.

I'm not crashing on the couch every night. I'm sitting here reading. Real books, from start to finish. I've been reading the same 3 books for about 3 years. This couch comes along and BAM! New book done in less than a week. This couch is making me smarter. Fatter...but smarter.

When I'm not pining over furniture, some good work is getting done around here. A massive purge of excess toys brought more organization to several rooms in our new house. Finally, I feel like these rooms have their own purpose, a specific function rather than just places we dumped our stuff 6 months ago. We've lived in a lot of houses over the last 10 years and each time, there is a moment when I realize the house has become our home. When our people arrived last weekend for Autumn's 15 birthday, and everyone was settling into their rooms and tossing suitcases around like they would stay for ever...I felt that moment.

I love walking by a room and seeing suitcases open, things tossed about. It means someone is visiting:)

Fast forward 24 hours. After a peaceful snowed in Sunday at home, I just jumped on here to enjoy some of my frick'n amazing chili and finish this blog. Add some photos and call it good. But what I saw was 33 page views. For a blog post I did not send out into the universe. Except... I did. In my couch drunk stupor, I must have "posted" the blog instead of "saved" it.

I am too cool.

::

My girl turned 15 on January 17th. 15. Fifteen. Quince. It blows my mind. Of my three children, the story of how Autumn came to us is my favorite . She was the unplanned game changer of my life. In 3 minutes my life went from one of total self absorption to one of possibility. The possibility of knowing love so intense and overwhelming, you lose yourself in it. You would throw yourself in front of a freight train for it. That 15 seconds of peeing on a stick, followed by 165 seconds of watching a second blue line appear, forged a bond between myself and that cluster of cells that would forever change the course of my life. In 3 minutes, I become a mother, without hesitation, reservation or regret.

By the time I got pregnant with Annika I knew I was capable of sharing this love with however many children the universe blessed me with.

I knew I loved being pregnant and could rock it.

I had breastfeeding down. I could feed nations.

I could work off the baby fat in 12 months with out sacrificing Mexican food.

And when we decided to see if God and my old eggs could rally one last time, I was content with what I had, so Liam was the cherry on top. He is ALL dessert baby.

And as much as I believe each of my children is nothing short of a miracle, the truth is that neither Annika or Liam would have ever even had a chance...without Autumn.

My girl.

Well hello baby girl.

Look at my girl now. Totally confident in her style...eat'n an apple. I think she is the coolest.

My favorite part of birthday weekends? The long, lazy mornings.

with superman...

and Grandmas...

Grandmas who wear Ed Hardy glasses rule.

Grandma's who wear Superman t-shirts rule.

and favorite cousins...

I'm not a big shopper. As a matter of fact, you could know me for a very long time and never hear me utter the words "Let's go shopping!!" No, it's typically more like "Ugh, I have to go shopping, will you go for me?"

But for some reason, my 3 Aries loves can sweet talk me into just about anything, even a Saturday of shopping. How do they do it?

From left to right: Libra, Aries, Aries, Scorpio (me), Capricorn and... Aries.

The Aries. They are lovely, complicated creatures. I seem to be wildly attracted to them as well, even though as a Scorpio their over the top enthusiasm for life and right on the surface emotions require a lot of focus.

I have 4 Aries in my "inner circle" already, and I recently befriended another one without even realizing it. There is something going on here. I'll get back to you when I complete my research:)

I love it when family hangs out in my kitchen.

And it always happens. I've lived in houses where the kitchen is the smallest room in a tiny house and without fail, we end up piled high, sitting on counter tops and floors with wine in hand chatting away. Standing room only, the rest of the house available, but no...the kitchen is the heart of the home in my family.

My family + my husband's family + our family + eating a giant breakfast in my house = over the moon, swooning, gushing, cheesy joy!

Yup. We are home.

Speaking of my home. I need your help.

I have A LOT of windows that need A LOT of help in the window treatment department. At the moment there are blinds on them. I hate blinds. I'm grateful the former owners left them on, because this would be a giant fishbowl peep show if not for the terrible beige blinds. But we aren't really "beige" blinds kind of people.

Having said that, I am struggling to find a beautiful, creative and affordable way to cover all these fracking windows. I would like to spend less than 300.00, but so far that seems unlikely.

The big issue is that anytime you are going to toss up this much fabric, it needs to not overwhelm the room. I want to make them myself, but what fabric?!?!?

There are more, I just can't get them all in the photo.

Please, please help a sister out.

Happy Chinese New Year! And don't forget to give my other little project some love when you can! XOXOXOXOXO

Going Black

2012-01-18T13:40:00.000-06:00

This is what the web could look like under the Stop Online Piracy Act.

Keep the web open. Contact your representatives or find out more

the mother of all holiday posts

2012-01-01T22:31:00.000-06:00

My husband begged me not to name this blog "the mother of all holiday blog posts"...the expectations will be sky high. I laughed at the idea that anyone has "expectations"of the nerd herd blog. He's cute.

So I'm moving along through December, making cookies, shopping online, snapping photos and enjoying my Christmas jams when I realize that I hadn't had a "short" moment in almost 20 days. I was totally and completely present. I didn't review photos or write a single word beyond the occasional status update. It felt good to neglect everything but my family and Christmas tasks. It has been quite some time since days have flowed together so effortlessly and I've felt tears of joy well up in my eyes. The ride through each day took me to a place in my heart that desperately needed the visit.

Sometimes my husband looks over to find happy tears coming. It used to happen quite often. A peaceful snowy Sunday snowed in with the kids, a good video game and chili on the stove could overwhelm my heart with gratitude. For a husband who shares the exact same interests and for kids who love to spend time at home, with their family. Daughter's who sew with me or beg to play hearts. A little man who insists his dad keep his Superman jammie pants on for an entire Saturday. Such good stuff.

Over the last year, I was very careful to protect my heart from fully breaking. I tread lightly in all emotions for fear sadness would take root permanently. When you do that, it works but the price is that joy and gratitude get through in small doses as well. And in recent years, those are the two emotions that have driven my creativity, my photography and writing, my mothering style and dictating what kind of wife, daughter and friend I strive to be. Joy and gratitude for my unbelievable life.

But December 2011 may go down as the month of tears of gratitude. Something happened, my heart opened up and accepted whatever the universe offered. Of course there was the deep punching pain of our first Christmas without Maria...as expected. But I was shocked to find so much peace in just thinking about her, in recalling our last holiday with her.

I allowed myself to feel it all, and was rewarded with peace.

Here is something my husband hears a few Sundays a year..."I'm just going to stay up as late as I can with you and be wiped out at work tomorrow. I just want to keep this going." Sometimes, the fleeting 48 hours of a weekend are so painfully precious that I fight to stretch it out until only a death like sleep can take them away from me.

He heard that every weekend in December. I've spent a lot of tired days at work, but a girl has got to have priorities.

My priorities:

Her first formal.

Homemade Christmas gifts.

Christmas cookie marathons

Skipping family photos so that Liam can explore the set instead.

When the dancing starts, cookies get pushed wayyyyyyyyyyyyy down the priority list.

Getting to Brandon's family was the highest priority this year. Between my need to be close to my family for support and healing, the packing and moving and building a new life in South Dakota, we have been far too absent. Upon reflection, we realized that it had been a year since we had all been together at their house. We took time off to ensure we could spend 2 full days. As we drove north my husband spoke excitedly about the upcoming weekend, how pleased he was with finding the perfect gifts and how he was going to insist that I relax. Really relax. And sleep in late (I did) and unplug (I did) and just be together.

As much as I love my husband's feet, this is about my awesome new Christmas jammies.

And this is about awesome new flash cards from Grandma.

New babies in the family.

Laughter, sweet, precious laughter.

My mother in law's home is always ...home. perfectly manicured for every season but not over done.

Liam is finally old enough to really get Kimass. It blew his mind that we were letting him...in deed encouraging him, to rip apart pretty paper and tear open boxes. And even crazier, that inside each of these were trucks & super hero "guys" & books & tools and...oh my.

It was perfect. From start to finish.

Well, almost. Mother nature took the year off, she must still be recovering from the show she put on last winter. I miss the snow.

But back to some faces I love in places I love:

And then we came home to do it all again in our home with my family.

So...that is the mother of all holiday posts. In re-reading it, I realize all that really happened is that we did what most people do this time of year. See a little more beauty, become a little more generous and kind, offer more smiles, laugh a little more and make "getting there" a priority. It was good.

I think we'll keep it going.

Happy New Year to you and yours. XOXOXOXOXO

my shorts

2011-12-16T05:00:00.000-06:00

Hola! from booful kimass land. That's what our little village in SD is called on our way home from daycare everyday. "Oh Momma! Oh booful kimass!" I will drive in circles, down every street I see even a hint of kimass lights, to hear his little voice exclaim the beauty of Christmas. And when a block goes dark for a house or two? "Oh no Momma! Where kimass go?!?!" Kimass, where are you?" That voice...I win either way.

We hung probably the most amazing wreath ever at work today. It was a gift to our company and honestly just stunning. When it was finally up, I stood in the middle of a noon rush, coffee lovers on one side, road warriors on the other, and exclaimed "OH KIMASS! IT BOOFUL!" I can only believe I'm a joy to have around. No picture here, but check out my other blog later:)

I'm thinking in shorts these days. I'm feeling in shorts these days. By "shorts" I mean that I feel like I am moving along at mach speed, barely touching the surface of the earth. It's all good, I feel joy and love and pride and accomplishment, but it's all just whizzing by. And if I look back at the last year, it becomes a blur. Life changing decisions were made, we took off on a great new adventure, left the city to make a home in a small town and couldn't take our people with us. I look at us now and still know it was the right time and we are happy here. But we are moving at mach speed. Which only leaves time for these shorts.

What the hell are "shorts"? They are the moments when I feel deeply connected to what is going on around me. Or when I recall a memory that lives so vividly in my mind and heart, that I can live in every minute detail when I bring to the front of my mind.

I used to live in those connected moments all day, every day. I maybe had a small disconnect here and there while at work, but even then my job as a Human Resources professional largely left me knee deep in moments with people, connecting with them. But that is not what I'm talking about. What I'm talking about is the fact that for a very long time, I was blessed with years and years... of seemingly endless moments of the planets aligning and everything always turning out perfect. Feel free to vomit now.

I can tell you that was not the reality, but even in times when anyone would argue my life was swirling around the toilet bowl, I was connected to the meaning of what was happening, why it was happening and how it would turn out for the best. There was always some control, and therefore, always the ability to pause...connect...ponder the meaning...and move forward.

So when things outside my control started to happen, it messed up my mojo a bit.

Over this last year, here on my little bloggity blog I've referred to these shorter moments as finding the "sparkle" again. And maybe if you read my posts again, there are other metaphors for these shorts out there. I'm sure. But recently I've been thinking and feeling in short bursts so much I had to name the feeling.

::
A birthday short:
I cannot stop thinking about my birthday. I relive looking up from my Caribou "teaching and training" moment and seeing their faces and yelling "WHAT?!?!?!?" And then crying and running. And the dancing and waking up knowing they were in my house. The birthday dinner, the missed football game and happy hour beers, the perfect music mix which began with "Invincible" by Pat Benatar. I yelled "oh Autumn...you HAVE to see the legend of Billy Jean!" and having Barrett magically appear with it in his hand. The tattoo.

Perfectly connected moments, like a higher power was orchestrating our every move.

I also kept the perfect birthday card.
My sister in law brought it to work and I read it and laughed. But later, when I read it again I thought...it's perfect. It may be the most perfect card I've ever gotten. So it sits... on my desk at home and I laugh every time I see it, and I show it people who come over. And they agree that it is perfect.

Christmas shorts:
The daily drive home from daycare...or what I call "The Center". I happily take the detour every day because his joy touches deep roots in my Christmas soul. It feeds my holiday freak every day.

Oddly enough, wrapping presents late last night while my husband lay sick on the couch next to me also fell into the category of good stuff. The Christmas freak and the nurturing wife freak were both getting their fix of connecting to a moment. I love it when my husband needs me. Like...really needs me.

Homemade gifts ground me. Even though I always...always end up in a hot mess of panicked all nighters, I see the finish line and know that handing over a hand made gift feels just slightly better. The time I spend at a table crafting a gift is time I'm forced to slow down and re prioritize things. It feels good to choose to get in over my head on a gift.

MAN DOWN AT THE CRAFTING TABLE!!!

Work/career shorts:
These are tough these days because it is this 50+ hours a week that is driving the faster than the speed of light bus. It won't always be this way, but it will be for the next several years. Here, there are mere seconds where I can pause and feel the roots dig in and connect to a task, or a work center, or an accomplishment. But the second is over in a flash, replace by "great but...how do you make it better." It's good. It's tough...but it's good.

Family shorts:
Here is where I'm getting the most bang for my buck. My time with my daughters cannot fall into the "short" category. These days, my Autumn Zoe and my Annika Willow are my roots. The move and the change that came with it have bonded us together in a way that resembles their infancy. Right now, we are a team, every day, mother/daughters. There is open and honest dialogue, openness to my advice, a need for each other to remind us of our roots, our beliefs, our sense of what is right and what is not. Daily I feel Autumn reach out us for support when she is going to go against the norm at school and for now our support is all the strength she needs to stay true to herself.

For our family, these are good, strong days.

And then there is moving home, being near my parents, near my grandparents. There really aren't words to describe how right that was, how necessary for all of us. If you have been away from home for a spell, and are struggling with the thought of going back...do it. Everything is temporary, you can always leave again. But go home at least once.

And right now, in this very moment I'm uber connected. It is reason #1 I blog...to sit quietly and contemplate this life I'm living. I don't always publish what I write, but I always write. And regardless of what comes out, I'm always more grateful for this life after I've spent some time here.

Photo shorts ::

Oh the joys of little girls and little boys this time of year.

A perfect holiday short: One night, as I'm drinking eggnog out of my new thrift shop holiday mug, Autumn says, "I wish I had a big fun mug to drink hot chocolate out of."

BOOM! Another thrift shop find. It's a regular Christmas miracle.

Addiction short: Someday you will see me on Intervention as my family and friends desperately try to express how my addiction to little Laughing Cow cheeses has negatively effected them. This photo is a cry for help.

It's the holiday season, time for me to dig in and stop with the shorts. Time to take the time to pause and connect.

T minus 9 days until Christmas for us and however many days until you celebrate your seasonal connections. Dig in baby. XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

super duper grumpy ( you asked for it Lisa E)

2011-11-30T21:28:00.001-06:00

It began this morning when I got halfway through my cardio work out and accidentally pulled the emergency stop button which shut down the tread mill. This wouldn't be such a big stink'n deal except I do this every freaking time. Every time. So I have to start over and do math to figure out distance and time and calories. Mostly just addition or subtraction but it's 5am and I really don't want to do math. I based my entire major on two things...what do I love and how do I not do math. So...

Also during my run, I lost a battle to ignore the very persistent and worsening pain in my right heal. I have been dismissing it as a mild case of plantar fasciitis, but there is now significant swelling. This makes me pissy. I have finally carved out some time for myself, to work off my lovely lady lumps...and I have aches and pains interfering.

I can't do regular push ups anymore because of my arthritis and carpel tunnel. And none of this is 40s fault, I've been dealing with this stuff since I turned 30.

Moving on. I'm not proud to tell you that recently, I went out in public in sweat pants. Like...shopping. In sweat pants. Not yoga pants, gray sweat pants. First time since college and I promise you I don't look as cute in them as I did then. I wore them because I had to drive to Sioux Falls and they are more comfortable than jeans. ~~Sigh~~

Thus the working out.

Dressing myself is a special form of hell right now. Most days I will tell you that I do not regret abandoning healthy eating to inhale burgers, fries and thousands of Chipotle burritos while building my baby boy. But if you ask me right away in the morning while I'm trying to dress myself...I may punch you in the mouth. I have just enough meat and grease fat left from my 9 month binge eating extravaganza to make my clothes hang funny on me, but a bigger size looks worse. It's like I'm borrowing someone else's clothes, everyday. I know this because my own clothes would never show so much arm fat right?

My pants are 1 inch too short because the junk in my trunk is lifting them up an inch. We have taken to calling them "nerd pants".

Also, now that my beautiful daughters are helping with laundry, all my clothes get dried completely. So all my work shirts look like barbie shirts and I do a "fat guy in a little coat" impression everyday. Or...they have shrunk into a lovely short, fat square shape. The length is an awkward belly button length, the sleeves 3/4 lengthy and two of me could side by side in the shirt box.

Everyday.

This is what made me super, duper grumpy this morning.

This is what made that all go away:

My mom's hysterical laughter as I told her why I was grumpy.
Baby Marshall screaming at the ceiling fan.
Submitting LOTS of flex claims just in time to get LOTS of fun money for Christmas shopping.
Liam running around in tighty whiteys.
My husband coming home.

Grumpy day over. Let's look at some pictures:

::

It's no wonder I am so very rarely sponge bob grumpy pants.

Sweet Thanksgiving faces

Sweet Thanksgiving rituals. Thankful for having a little boy in my life even if it means a little extra junk in my trunk:) Thankful for all the little extra bits of good stuff that balances out super duper grumpy days.

So much for grumpy, his rule was short lived today. And how did a "grumpy" blog end up being a "thankful" blog? Easy...see above:)

G'Night. XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

thanksgiving eve

2011-11-23T22:26:00.001-06:00

It feels good to be this tired and know I'm right at the beginning of a 4 day weekend. And it's the best kind of tired, tuckered out from a hard day at work. The worst kind of tired is "i cannot stay asleep past 3am" which I did on Monday. "Hard work" tired = a beer, a night of guiltless blog stalking, carry out food and falling asleep on the couch watching crappy tv. Ahhhhhh.

But first, a little Thanksgiving bloggity blog. This year I thought, rather than reflect on the Thanksgiving holiday 3 days from now, when I'm burned out from traveling and all "holiday road trip tired", I would do a little looking ahead...to what is coming.

An early morning departure, to ensure we arrive at the farm by 1pm. I love getting up early to hit the road. Since we moved back to South Dakota, I've seen more stunning sunrises than I can remember. I've stood on the breaks on the highway, jumped out of the van and taken photos about once a week. It's the same stretch of road every morning and it if you can make a sunrise date, it never fails to deliver.

I can't tell you now much I look forward to these fall weekends at home. I'm so in love with our house here. I still super love our home in Minneapolis, but let's face it...it doesn't have a studio like addition with 25 windows. I open every blind, make tea, fire up the computer and wait for the sun to come up. So I'm looking forward to a few more of these before this view is blanketed in white.

No snow yet in the tropical southern most tip of South Dakota. I told my husband winter is weird here, more freezing rain than snow and when the snow comes, it tries to kill you via travel. Then it melts. And then the freezing rain again and so it goes and so it goes. So far, just one day of freezing rain. The rest is still gorgeous fall romps in the leaves. So far.

Remember the wonderful canopy of leaves I wrote about when we first arrived? The show those trees put on this fall has been pretty incredible. Walls of leaves almost as tall as Annika, 60 bags worth. Trying to keep up with the blizzard of fall leaves is futile. Rather than beat them...we opted to just join them.

And really, that is all one should do in the fall. Work a little, play alot...before winter sets in and things like sewing, art projects and game nights take over. So much to look forward to,but we let's not rush into things, we must stay present so as not to miss a thing.

There just isn't anything more important than your "people", whoever that is for each of us. And that is what I am most thankful for this year. My people. My family people, my work people, my small people, new people, old people. I need them all and appreciate them all so much. I appreciate YOU so much. This little blog hit over 10,500 page views this week...crazy.

I am also thankful for this superman t-shirt. I cannot wash it fast enough. I would put this on him everyday if it weren't so strange to do so. What is it about this shirt?

It's time for the "fall asleep on the couch watching deliciously crappy TV" portion of the night. We never make time to watch TV so when I have this opportunity I relish it! Here's to hoping there is a marathon of SVU on:)

If you travel tomorrow, I pray you have a safe journey. Be Thankful, do your best, eat chocolate, laugh, smile, smell the flowers, sip wine, love deeply & bask in the sun.

XOXOXOXOXO!

40

2011-11-16T09:41:00.001-06:00

hump day nuggets: little bits of the season in photos and words about the last week. Encouraged to steal this idea from Dig This Chick because she is awesome blossom.

Actually, these are birthday nuggets. My 40th birthday nuggets. And easily the most special nuggets yet.

I'm not sure how other women feel about turning 40. I've never asked someone. I know that for some reason the retail/ commercial image of turning 40 includes lots of black decor and really awful naked 20 year old men cards mocking your inability to score them because you are..old. Funny...I seem to be scoring all over the place with my 20 something man. ~blush~

I have been super excited about my 40s for a long time. True story. Even in my 20's when I was fully and blissfully submerged in college life, I knew my 40's would be better. The later part of my 20's was a brutal reality check after the never never land that is college. Really far away from home for the first time should have been an adventure, but with a baby on board and a low paying job it was more like survival. I knew FOR SURE my 40's would be better.

I never thought about my thirties really. Not until I reached my 30th birthday and hit a wall of disappointment. For the entire week of my birthday I suffered a early life crisis. I had not gone to law school, or lived in a van while traveling the country, or moved to another country or done a tour with the Peace Corps. I had two kids and a divorce on my life resume. I did not give myself credit for building a career or surviving a divorce with a strong relationship with my x husband in tact or the beautiful human beings I had brought into the world. Nope, for that week, I was a total, miserable failure.

And then... it was over. And what replaced my pitty party was absurd drive and determination to do everything myself always. To never need anyone to provide emotional or financial support ever again and I would be the master of my universe at all costs.

This was good. It was the only way I survived until 35. It was not very conducive to having any relationships and today I formally apologize to anyone who was trying so hard to be close to me then. I was a terrible friend. But I was taking care of business, bringing home the bacon and frying it up in a pan. I wrapped my arms around my girls and my job and kept them close to me in my hard candy shell. Brandon was there, but I worked very hard to protect him from responsibility, not because he shied away from it, but because I had to do it myself...for myself.

Looking back I wonder what his perspective is on that time. I've never asked him. I've asked him why he stayed. Apparently, he knew, we were his family.

It was around 35 that I remembered I had my 40's to look forward to and when I really started to fantasize about how glamorous and sexy my 40s would be. How I'd have all my shit together, my emotional shit and my financial shit. I'd have a home I owned and cars that were paid for. I wouldn't live on credit cards between checks and I'd be at the top of my career.

I would love and be loved. I would be open to any and all levels of friendship. I would be a good friend, a thoughtful friend. I would be confident and secure.

Guess what. I was right. I'm 40 today and it's all true. It's even better. It's better because from 35 to today, I learned to ask for help. I've learned to put my heart in someone else's care and trust it would be nurtured and protected. I've learned that time with my family, working in a garden, canning and video games make me happy. I've discovered photography and writing. I learned to cry in front of people, both in moments of joy and sadness, something my 30 year old self would have seen as weak. As a matter of fact, I've cried more in the last 5 years than in the previous 35 years combined, and I'm the happiest I've ever been. Life is crazy.

I'm still learning to be a good friend. Hang in there, those of you still trying so hard...it's coming along.

Thank you, all of you who loved me through my 20s and 30s, especially those who kept telling me this day would come. Who believed for me for those years in my 30s when I doubted. And thank you to those of you who have found me now, later in our lives. Those shiny new friendships and old friendships renewed are my growth now. Such beautiful people!

Birthday Nuggets baby. Best...birthday...ever.

::

My people came to celebrate. They surprised me at work. They said they came to celebrate me and that the theme for the weekend would be:

"Life is messy, but you make it beautiful"

Surprise birthday weekend events followed suite:

beautifully lazy mornings

favorite cupcakes from favorite city bakery

spot on music mix

big family dance party

Surly

Jewelry

Brother/Sister tattoos

This is the "Life is Messy" necklace that inspired the tattoos. And like the tattoo, it may never come off my body:

Awesome toddler sleep over!

My people.

And it's only 2pm on this, the day of my birth. There just may have to be more nuggets tomorrow. With my people...you never know.

Happy 40th to me & happy day to you. XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

rambling flow of thought and speech

2011-11-01T22:28:00.004-05:00

From Desk Reference to the Diagnostic Criteria from DSM-3-R (American Psychiatric Association, 1987):

Caffeine-Induced Organic Mental Disorder 305.90 Caffeine Intoxication

Recent consumption of caffeine, usually in excess of 250 mg. -

At least five of the following signs:

restlessness

nervousness

excitement

insomnia

flushed face

diuresis

gastrointestinal disturbance

muscle twitching

rambling flow of thought and speech

tachycardia or cardiac arrhythmia

periods of inexhaustibility

psychomotor agitation

Not due to any physical or other mental disorder, such as an Anxiety Disorder.

For three hours last Wednesday, I thought I was going crazy. I sat on the floor of my basement with Liam. He played cars and I cried. At first he would hug me and say "oh baby." But after about an hour, he just brought all his toys next to his mess of a mother in the middle of the floor, and played quietly.

But I wasn't going crazy. I was in the throws of a coffee house opening induced caffeine overdose. The list is an accurate description of me those three hours. By the time Brandon got home, I had convinced myself I could not go upstairs, because there was too much up there. Too many responsibilities, too much noise, a cell phone that wouldn't shut up. But the basement was quiet and peaceful, full of nothing but toys, my baby boy and me.

rambling flow of thought and speech

This dominated my caffeine psychosis and was the reason I just knew I had snapped and would never go back to being a fully functioning person. There was no flow or organization of my thoughts. A flood of fears, spilling forth in tears and words. Some completely irrational, some logical but out of my control (think...meteors slamming into earth) and some very raw fears of suddenly dying, leaving behind the people and life I love so much.

I felt deep sadness.

I felt lonely.

rambling flow of thought and speech

My dear husband listened to me for an hour. His always calming way brought some quiet to my mind and slowly, perspective returned.

I don't know if everything happens for a reason, but I feel like it's true. It may have been the caffeine overdose that started this flow of thought and speech. But it DID start it, this purge. And I feel a little lighter, having shed 3 hours of tears and sharing that rambling flow of thought and speech with my husband.

This is my first experience with grief and the grieving process. I had no idea there were so many levels to pass through on the way to a new normal. That so many thoughts and feelings would become intertwined and pull new ones to the surface to deal with.

I have always had a wicked hard candy shell to protect me from this stuff. But this year has exposed a major crack in my armor. Try as I might, I can no longer push aside feeling uncomfortable emotions, they will find me whether I like it or not. And that is good.

::

Since my big OD I've experienced some old school peace. Not the kind of the last year, hard earned and scarce.
Nope, this was good old fashioned look up find it everywhere.
Peace in:

Puppy eyes

Fall

Winterizing the garden

Finding the perfect costume for Liam

Babies in Halloween costumes

Planning spring's colors Firing up the sewing machine And this...is the view from my home everyday.

Here is to hoping you are all looking up and finding your own versions of peace everyday. XOXOXOXO

You know what is NOT peaceful? Crazy formatting>< My apologies for the terrible spacing in tonight's post, but I cannot waste anymore brain power trying to fix it.

anniversary nuggets

2011-10-19T23:05:00.000-05:00

hump day nuggets: little bits of the season in photos and words about the last week. Encouraged to steal this idea from Dig This Chick because she is awesome blossom.

I'm coming live to you from Anniversary High. A location I almost missed due to the minuscule emphasis my husband and I put on "special" days.

It's always been this way, beginning with a mutual dislike for Valentine's Day and an agreement to always boycott it. Somehow all other holidays sort of fell into a semi boycott category by default. Never in regard to the kiddos...just each other.

Maybe it's simply laziness, an excuse to not have to remember and therefore acknowledge these personal holidays. The truth is most of our 9 years together we have been too broke to make much out of any day. And of course this intentional ignoring of these small special days does fly in the face of our whole "VIVA LA FAMILIA!" vibe. But I'm comfortable with that because it frees me from expectations. I can deliver a random memorable day...grown organically from spontaneous goodness. I kind of suck at delivering a planned and well executed "special day" for someone. Not a point of pride, but a fact.

So... consistent with the previous 3 years, we forgot our wedding anniversary. Had we not gotten a card addressed to both of us (which sent us into a tailspin of pondering) we would probably not have remembered this...the exact date of our wedding. Even after opening the card we couldn't quite pin down the exact date, or how many years. We agreed on 3, but the card said "On your 4th Anniversary". We stand corrected.

But.. we did get the card (thank you Grandma Karen!!!) and that spontaneous realization of what day this was, created a memorable night. Unplanned and unorchestrated, we went on a date. I told Autumn mom and dad needed her to watch the baby while we celebrated something we didn't know 24 hours ago. She loved it. She helped me curl my hair and do my makeup. She let me borrow her dress and brought me my boots.

The energy of the moment, mom running in barking orders about pizzas, dishes, baby bathes and dogs while peeling off work clothes. The excitment of two daughters realizing that their parents were going to DO SOMETHING TOGETHER!!!

Annika ran in the bathroom with a tarnished rhinestone butterfly necklace Great Grandma Wattier gave to her:

"Here mom...you can wear this tonight."

I did.

::

The Nuggets are slim pickings this week because all I've been doing is this:

I'm not complaining, it's all good in the hood. I'm just saying the energy surrounding this project has reached a fever pitch and it is eating us all alive. I am too excited.

I don't post pictures of myself often because...why would I? Behind the lens is the place to be. I'm making an exception to illustrate my excitement for my new iPhone 4S.

Who loves their new phone the most?

this chick

Anniversary food porn. But not much because I promised my husband I would focus. So I got the beginning:

And the end:

And finally, my favorite nugget of the week. My little baby nugget in the hat that may be forever on his head. He loves this hat like nothing else...ever. Thank God it's adorable.

I've been wanting to start a side blog. A photo a day for a year blog. In memory of my Aunt Maria. I can't explain why, except to say that it is just in me and needs to get out.

I'm not promising groundbreaking photography. Just things that I see everyday and want to share with her.

I'm hoping this expedites the healing process.

And honors her legacy.

"love really does make all the difference"

If you are interested you can find it at:

http://wingsformaria.blogspot.com/

Happy Anniversary baby.

Bloglovin?

2011-10-18T08:48:00.001-05:00

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

Sounds kind of bossy...I know. But I'm trying this Bloglovin thing out so ....help a sister out okay?

Thanks a bunches!!! XOXOxOXOXo

Oh and Hump Day Nuggets for sure tomorrow:)

moving forward

2011-10-09T12:48:00.003-05:00

Wow. Just...wow. My feet hurt, unfamiliar muscles ache, my house has that clean but destroyed from a constant flow of people look, other people's things are laying about after a frantic departure yesterday morning, leftover party food in the fridge and my entire family is still asleep. I'm exhausted...but my heart is full from it all. It's a familiar feeling I had hoped I could get to here in this new place. And like every bit of joy this year, I had to work hard to earn it. It's a tough year, but the lessons I'm learning are life changing. How did we get here again?

60 days of "settling in", unpacking and feeling out where we are and how we fit into this new place.

One last trip to Minneapolis to clear out our house to get it ready for the lovely family that will move in and fill it with their own brand of family energy. It was a task I took very seriously, I want to hand them a home, not just a place to crash for the next year or so. They may be renting, but it's their home for as long as they live there. And it's a great home, I'm so pleased they will be the family to take care of it. It is really a match made in heaven, this family, our house and us. Even though we had only communicated through email over the last several weeks, when they entered the house, it was hugs instead of handshakes. It was laughter, smiles and fast, lively chatter, questions about each other's children and lives. It was marveling about how the universe brought them to the craigslist ad I posted and all the signs that this was meant to be.

I was surprised how heavy my heart was as we did a final walk through the house. Happy to be handing it over, but realizing that I really really miss my kitchen window, with the bird house view. And I miss getting ready in the morning in my bathroom with the window wide open, listening to the traffic and airplanes. I was always aware that people were cruising over my house, on their way to somewhere. That energy I was constantly bombarded by when we lived there, felt good as a visitor.

No regrets, but lots of reminders of why I love that house and that city.

That is how we got here. At the point where we are finally, officially, fully here. And to celebrate this commitment to being 100% vested in our new gig, we brought our style of crazy to the University of South Dakota homecoming weekend. Enthusiastic, loud, unorganized, go with the flow, face painting, dancing, the more the merrier style. Gather people together and see what happens, no expectations, no pressure. Just have fun with it.

Liam brought his grumpy, screaming baby face and Annika her oh so angsty and embarrassed by her parents face. Brandon brought his confused but patient daddy face and I my endless enthusiasm for all things cheesy, like parade mixes on the ipod and spontaneous dancing...face. It was us through and through, so now they know, this is how the Schapekahms roll. Usually a little late.

A party, a parade and a college football game. All at the end of an insane work week. And a week that included pink eye and a couple of kids with colds. Yup, full heart, tired, tired body.

My Week by Fricka

Giving the house a new "do" for her new family.

Brandon wants me to tell you they were in this position for 6 hours that day, head and arms up. Never put wall paper on a ceiling.

Wallpaper is truly the work of the devil. Seriously, what kind of NASA space glue is used to put this on?

Thank God for my girl...she always pulls through.

But for every ying, there's a yang. For every craptastic home improvement project, there is family improvement time.

Liam needed some Cece time. The second we pulled into the driveway at 11pm, he knew we where we were exclaiming "Cece!!!"

It did my heart good to see both babies settled back in the loving arms of my broski for the weekend.

Even the tub is fun when you visit Cece.

Back in South Dakota we are submerged in Fall Fabulous.

And how do you make fall fabulous more fabulouser? Enter Daddy coming home from work:

Mommy thinks it's pretty awesome when daddy comes home too. Just saying...

Which brings us to the last couple of days. The days we became joiners, part of our new community. A coming out of sorts. I picked my comfort zone... fall, floats, parades and football.

And Oh My God...to see my babies invite their new friends over! There may or may not have been a moment that I snuck away to shed a happy tear.

To see my family welcome new people into our home, our lives. It felt good.

Angsty

I had another tear filled moment though, taking photos. I again recalled the time before we moved, when I realized how different my photos would look from now on. And indeed, here were a bunch of beautiful new faces to capture. But the faces that were missing would have been such a perfect match for the activity and I missed them all day long. And I sent them a text telling them as much. And they...sent me their faces:)

In conclusion, life is good. I leave you with the picture that sums up the spirit of the weekend...

Have a peaceful, lovely Sunday. XOXOXOXOXOXO

late night mcnuggets

2011-09-28T22:41:00.005-05:00

I'm slipping them in right under the wire, but it's still HUMP day, so these are still...

hump day nuggets: little bits of the season in photos and words about the last week. Encouraged to steal this idea from Dig This Chick because she is awesome blossom.

Yup cutting it soo close and eyes sliding shut every time I pause to put a thought together. It's not that I have so much to say tonight or that the little I have to say is so mind blowing it can't wait. But the the baby is asleep, the tweenager's homework is done and the teenager doesn't have any. It's rare I have a moment like this at 9:45pm, no one tugging at my arm needing something.

This precious free hour or two has many "have tos" competing for priority. I could do a couple loads of laundry. Or clean the slobbery Calvin faces off my glass front doors. I could pack for our trip this weekend or clip the dog's nails. Or finally put away the clean clothes laying around my bedroom.

As it is, the only other thing I almost did, was go over to the couch to cuddle with Annika while she watches one of my favorites...Big Fish. If you've not seen this movie, please try to. If you have parents, or loved the stories your grandparents told you, or love the story of your own life...love this movie. It's one of my favorites.

In the last 12 months, in the midst of life changing loss and oh so many moments to reflect on what I was supposed to learn from it, I made the very deliberate decision to stop doing tasks when life gave surprise "free time". I have stopped killing those fleeting moments with pointless chores, focusing instead on filling those bits of time with life. Sweet, peaceful, lovely life.

late night mcnuggets

I got behind camera this weekend to spend a few hours with the most beautiful little family on their farm. I jumped at the chance to put on some boots and meander around their homestead at sunset. I felt a little rusty as I have not done a shoot in months, but inspired by the familiar sites and sounds of the country and the easy way this little family's love came through my camera.

I even got to take a bit of the farm home with me:)

::

Hump day nuggets is losing the battle for this precious free time. My favorite scene is coming up...the one where everyone from the fantastical stories come to his funeral and his son suddenly knows his father.

My husband is reading in bed, I'd be crazy not to snuggle in next to him and fall asleep listening to his deep voice tell me about what he is reading. I love my time here with words and photos. I could stay, and try, but...I'd rather go snuggle.

And...these are meant to simply be "nuggets":)

Good night.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

fricka - leader of the nerd herd

Vermillion SD to Sheridan Wy 638 miles 8 hours & 42 minutes

The road

This one time, I blogged for 4 months

Miscellaneous

For the love of gardening

Me...according to Pink

“The scariest moment is always just before you start.” ― Stephen King, On Writing

I feel a teenie tiny little bit of negativity in me, so now might be a good time to get this out of the way:

hello....is there anybody out there?

Hello. While my newly crowned 3 year old naps I'm editing photos and writing for the first time in months. This message is mostly for me. Because I need to remember I can do all this! I CAN DO ALL THIS!!! and i miss you all here in this happy space. Are you still there? stay tuned... xoxoxoxo

the glamorous life of a breeder

it's all in my head

on my walls i would write...

nerd weekend

follow me follow me!

ode to the joy of a couch

Going Black

This is what the web could look like under the Stop Online Piracy Act.

the mother of all holiday posts

my shorts

super duper grumpy ( you asked for it Lisa E)

thanksgiving eve

40

rambling flow of thought and speech

anniversary nuggets

Bloglovin?

moving forward

late night mcnuggets