All I'm Saying there's a joke in here somewhere

It's been a nice weekend. Matt took both days off, as his really busy season is about to start and he's getting some down time preparatory to being gone a lot for the next month and a half.

We took Freya and her grandpa out to our favorite local farmstand yesterday to enjoy their harvest time and take some family photos. Our main goal was to get a photo for our Christmas card (it's never to early to be prepared), and I think we accomplished that. Along the way, Freya got to play in their straw bale maze:

Visit the poultry, which she calls the "kitchens":

And love on her grandpa a bit:

As you can see from the photos, autumn is definitely in the air around here. The wind is blowing, people are firing up their woodstoves for the first time since spring, and the leaves are turning. The nights are getting cold and we put our flannel sheets on the bed yesterday. Winter is just around the corner, I suppose.

Freya has hit that toddler phase where her favorite word is "No." She likes to pair it with foot-stomping and hand-flapping. You can ask her literally any question on the planet, from, "Can we go change your buppy (diaper) now?" to "Would you like a cookie?" And like a miniature Amy Winehouse with vastly better hair, Freya hollers, "No, no, no!" I literally have that flipping "Rehab" song stuck in my head all day, every day.

Speaking of Amy Winehouse, can I just go on record here as saying that I dislike her? Quite a bit. I can't say it anywhere near as well as Stuart Heritage of Hecklerspray, but really, what is the point of Amy Winehouse? I don't like her voice, her songs just don't do it for me, and I think her behavior is just off the charts unsupportable. The fact that she sings a song about refusing to go to rehab, but then manages to follow this incredibly self-destructive course seems to me like someone not really worth having around. I switch to a different channel if one of her songs comes on Sirius, I'll change the channel if she shows up on VH1. And I suppose blogging about her (in my albeit meager audience kind of way) only gives her a titch more publicity, but really, why? Why is she worth it? I just don't get it.

I'm sure her mother loves her. And like any loving mother knows, I know Freya will get through her own phrase of hollering negatives at me every time I suggest she put her shoes on or anything else. At least, until she's 13...

Anyone know how I can get something off my Tivo without having a DVD recorder?

I arranged a media event at work where a local weatherman came out and did a live broadcast based around a charity thing we're doing. It all happened last Friday, and Matt Tivoed it for me because I had to be there at 6:00 a.m. While there, I was milling around in the background along with a number of other people, because they like to have activity going on.

I was watching the Tivo stuff yesterday with Freya and pointing out all the scenes Mommy was in. Mostly it was just the back of my head. But then there was a shot of me standing in front of an animal rescue booth talking to some other volunteers. The rescue group had an adoptable dog with them. So there's me, talking, and there's the dog laying on the ground. And then the dog starts licking itself in a very intimate way.

I about peed myself laughing and thought, "I've got to get this on the internet." The problem is, I have no idea how.

Here's how I'm managing to blog at the moment:

You know, seeing as how I have a toddler on my lap full-time when I am on the computer. Said toddler is now over a head cold that she picked up at school. I ended up having to keep her home on Tuesday due to a fever the night before. She gets over colds pretty quick, thank goodness. However, she was gracious enough to pass it along to me.

This is a killer of a week for me to be feeling crappy, but I've got to deal with it. If I can just get past about noon tomorrow, things will be fine. Then I can crash and burn. Well, as much as anyone can with a toddler. Matt told me to go relax and rest after eating dinner and he'd clean the kitchen. It was a nice offer, but the yowling barnacle pretty much knocks out opportunities for relaxation.

I still love her, though. Little disease vector that she is... I leave you with the latest YouTube clip.

Freya and I just had to run to CostCo and as I was filling up with gas, she said, "Shake?" As in, "It is that time of the evening, and we are at CostCo, and every time these two things coincide, we go down to Sonic and get a shake." It is scary to think that my 19 month old might end up a Type II diabetic because of my entirely predictable habits.

But Badger is exactly right: the hot fudge milkshakes ROCK. How do they do the hot fudge in a cold shake? Huh?

I am feeling like such an urban farmer, which is quite a change from my usual Dust Bowl-brand of feeling about my little agricultural projects. The garden has not been a success this year, at least, not when you measure it in terms of money/effort vs. output. However, Freya has loved playing in the dirt and helping me water, and has enjoyed the heck out of her weekly couple of strawberries, so it's been a positive.

But this afternoon while she has been napping, I decided I'd go out and try to dig a couple of potatoes out of our wine barrel. I tried digging a few weeks back, and just dug a hole straight down, about as big around as your arm. I found no spuds. I put all the dirt back in the hole and decided I'd better wait for the plants to die and fall over (a sign of potatoes being ready). They did that last weekend, and you're supposed to give them a couple of weeks past that to "harden." If you just can't stand it, you can dig up a few to eat. So I did, and found six Yukon Golds, ranging in size from a golf ball to a softball! Woo! We'll be having new, home-grown potatoes with dinner tonight, and hopefully after next week's big harvest, we'll have lots more.

Then I decided it was time to go turn the compost heap so that the continued warm fall weather could help it digest a little more before winter. The heap has been a major experiment, in that it is ugly and I have very little idea what I am doing. Here's a frame of reference for you when I say "ugly."

It's just four pallets tied together to make a square, with an extra one kind of blocking the dog from getting in and eating the compost. (That was gross, but I won't go into anymore detail.) We've been throwing in yard clippings, coffee filters and grounds, fruit peelings, pretty much anything organic that isn't meat or dairy. Shoot, I even had my neighbor come empty his keg leftovers on it after his graduation party!

It was time to feed the tomatoes and mulch the roses anyway, so I thought I'd dig a bucket. Here's an idea of what the guts of the heap look like:

You can see a corn cob, some coffee filters, some grass, and lots and lots of lovely rich dirt. Can you believe heat, natural bacteria, water, some beer, and household leftovers makes beautiful rich dirt like that? I am so excited. And here's the end product, heaped around a few of our tomato plants:

Isn't it lovely? And so while this year's crop may not be a whole lot to get excited about, I think that compost is going to make all the difference for next year's bounty. And believe me when I say that if I can do it, you can too. All it takes is a little space, some ugly pallets, leftovers and a dream...

I have lost motivation for darn near everything. I'm at home, and I know I really ought to go downstairs and chuck some chicken thighs in the Crock Pot with some other junk and turn it on. You know, so we can eat dinner tonight. And because I told my husband I would do it. But here it is, almost 2:00 and I haven't done it yet.

Also, the kitchen and really most of the whole house is borderline repugnant with clutter and undone housework. And I just can't make myself get too worked up about it. I know I would do well to switch off the internet and motivate, but I doubt I will.

...grab a meme off someone else's blog.

The Rules:

1. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged write their own blog post about their eight things and include these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged and that they should read your blog.

1. Habit: I know I have posted this before, but every time I see/hear a plane flying over, I wish them a safe journey.

2. Fact: I have gone back to coloring my hair after about 10 years of not doing it. It got too dark after pregnancy, so I decided chemical intervention was needed.

3. Habit: I comb through all the channels on my Sirius radio presets to see what my options are before settling on a song. The first song I hear might be my favorite song of all time, but you just never know what else might be going on out there.

4. Fact: I let Freya sit on my lap and watch YouTube videos while I type blog entries. Right now she's watching a piece from the Muppet Show.

5. Habit: I always reset my odometer after filling up with gas, though I rarely ever bother to calculate my mileage based on that.

6. Fact: I have never been off the North American continent, and that includes never having been to Hawaii or Alaska.

7. Habit: I put aside $100 from every paycheck so that I can remedy #7 by taking the hubby and Freya to Italy--projected trip date 2013.

8. Fact: I didn't really read the directions to the meme, other than to block out the part about tagging. Feel free to use it or not at will!

*cough* I can't believe we've only got a moderate air quality alert today. Smoke from the Chief Parrish Fire is about choking us out of town. And leaving town doesn't help: we went to a funeral in Cascade today and about collapsed our lungs trying to breathe up there. They've been dealing with the Cascade Complex fires, which are now estimated to have covered over 280,000 acres of Matt's and my old stomping grounds.

My hair smells like smoke. My eyes are red. You know how scientists who study global climatology can take drilled core samples of glaciers and such and know what was going on with the planet thousands or tens of thousands (I guess) of years ago? I think someone could take a similar sample of my lung tissue and say, "Whoa, that year was a doozy for fires!"

*cough*

Man alive, has this been a big month for you! You've been doing Montessori more or less full time for the last four weeks. The first week was tough, then the school was closed for a week to get ready for the real "school year." So just as you got adjusted to your new surroundings, you weren't there for a week. That threw you for a loop. We got you back to school and you adjusted really, really quickly. Where you were crying when I left in the mornings (though usually done with that before I even got out the door), you are now all but walking me to the door and throwing me out. You've got stuff to do! You can't be waiting for your mom to get emotionally ready to head to work. There are beads to string, puzzles to solve, pictures to paint.

When we are at home, you talk a LOT about school. You say your teacher's name, then start going down the list of kids you spend time with. You recruit your father and I into Circle Time, and we all sit on the floor and hold hands while singing "Row Your Boat." One of the biggest changes we've seen is that you are suddenly much more socially outgoing than you were just weeks ago, both with kids and adults. You'll chat up just about anybody now.

I counted up your vocabulary the other day, the words that I can remember and that you use in the correct context, and you are over 200 different words. That's incredible. You also are using words of up to four syllables, and your sentences are four or five words long. Almost every day when we pick you up at school, the teacher or one of the aides will say, "Freya is so smart!" You are scary-smart. But you also seem to get along great with other kids, which tells me that you're confident and socially well adjusted.

And the biggest news for me, and perhaps your little month-iversary gift to me, was that you slept through the night last night for the very first time. Your dad prodded me awake at 4:00 and said, "It's four." I knew immediately what he was saying, as you are always snugged up against me by about one every morning. I bounded out of bed and placed my hand on your back. Sure enough, you were still breathing. I was mystified, and I laid there in bed for 30 minutes wondering what in the world was going on that you were still asleep by yourself. I settled on some possible sleeping sickness that would likely result in brain damage. Imagine my relief when you woke up at 6:30 and demonstrated that you were still able to walk and talk! I don't expect you to sleep through every night from here on out, but holy Moses, what a huge bit of progress that is!

Every day, every month keeps getting better. We love you so much.
Mommy

I'm kind of stunned tonight. I found out this afternoon that a friend of mine from Cascade died in her sleep last night. She was turning 50 this year.

Not only is that too young, she is just too good a person for this to happen. We need people like her--people who are 100% devoted to their family, who are generous with their friendship, who truly care about people and the community.

I don't know how her family is going to do without her. She was their touchstone, that constant presence who they knew loved them no matter what, and loved them with all her heart. How must it feel to lose that kind of a person?

I just can't believe it. I keep hoping someone will call and say it was all a silly mistake and that she just needed to go to the hospital. I know that's not going to happen, but I can't get my mind around the fact that she's gone.

Why did it have to be her? Why couldn't it have been a bad person?

One of my Labor Day weekend projects was to get into the boxes of clothes I've been keeping/stashing/stockpiling in Freya's closet and get out the fall and winter stuff. Temperatures are in the 80s and 90s, you know. I'd hate for the poor kid to freeze.

So I mentioned a while back about my shopping addiction and all the clothes I had bought for her. I realized it was pretty bad. I didn't realize until this weekend just how bad the shopping situation is/was.

I probably washed at least 20 pairs of pants, 30 shirts, another dozen sweatshirts, 5 or 6 playdresses, four pairs of mittens... There isn't remotely enough room in her dresser. I've got them stacked on the shelf in her closet, and have hung up all the dresses. Oh, and the winter jackets (3, plus 2 windbreaker/rain jackets).

Matt was giving me the fish eye the whole time I was folding and trying to walk upstairs under stacks of clean laundry. I was embarassed, so I was a little snappish with him about it. But I had to admit this morning, we could probably be clothing 2 other toddlers Freya's size concurrently and there would still be plenty left over for multiple clothing changes through the day.

In my own defense, about 95% of the clothes were bought used and we'll make a killing taking them to a consignment sale or selling them again online. But...jeez. I've got to keep a handle on this clothing thing.

Another visit with the in-laws has come to its conclusion. Matt's folks left yesterday morning, which means they were here for 6 days. That's practically...momentary. They usually like to stay around 10 days, which translates to about a year and a half. It's kind of like dog years that way.

It was a good visit, in all. But we did have one snag where I almost got lippy with them. The first night they were here, Matt's dad came to the dinner table with a little brochure and said he needed some information with us, as they wanted to get Freya an insurance policy. An insurance policy? Yes, they wanted to buy Freya a life insurance policy.

A. Life. Insurance. Policy.

For a toddler.

They said they've done it for all the grandkids as a gift. (Uh, thanks?) And before you dear readers go too far down the road of, "Oh, this must be one of those policies they can cash out down the road and use for college funds," you can just stop. Because it is just a plain ol' life insurance policy.

Bottom line is that if my cherished baby dies, Matt and I will be the beneficiaries of $5000. I refrained from pointing out that that amount would only cover about 1/100000th of my needed mental health care, should something happen to Freya.

Is it just me, or is that whole thing just sick and morbid? Why would you put life insurance on a toddler?

Why is it that:

Goose becomes geese, but
Moose stays moose, and
House becomes houses, but
Mouse becomes mice?

I don't think there is a rule of grammar in action there. I think this calls for a revolution.