Absence

One of the benefits of being married to a first-year professor is this: He may come home late, but he comes home, usually. He's so wrapped up in course preparation and academic writing that he doesn't have time to travel, and he's not yet connected enough to have a lot of things to travel to. I see my husband almost every night.

A lot of women I know are not that lucky. It's something I remind myself about when the paycheck barely makes it to the end of the month and I feel a little envy for families whose primary breadwinner's profession of choice took less sacrifice and preparation and/or pays more money. ("Why did I become a professor?" Dr. G asked one day recently. "Well, it wasn't for the money!" replied cranky I.)

But this week he is paying dues with a solid networking-type connection, delivering a talk at the workplace of a grad school buddy. Staying in a hotel and eating in restaurants, working out when he chooses without worrying about childcare, receiving adulation for the work he does, and enjoying some California sunshine. All alone.

I am mothering four children in a Montana springtime; each day we seem to get some sun, some bitter and nasty wind, and some blowsy, non-sticking snow. I am schlepping A, who has pneumonia, to the doctor every day for lung-listening checks and oxygen checks and antibiotics shots. (Thank heavens the doctor is trying to keep him out of the hospital and so far succeeding as he begins to recover.) I am greeting the efficient and smiling women at my favorite pharmacy, yet again. I am administering oxygen and inhalers and nebulizer treatments and prednisone and Zithromax. I am hounding kids to do the dishes. I am breaking up fights. I am worrying about walking the dog and not walking the dog. I am hanging tough through my final few weeks of homeschooling S. I am trying hard to stay on top of parent-teacher communications. I am folding pile after pile after pile of laundry. I am refusing to get anxious about all the crap that certain people have piled up in the yard and certain dogs have piled up in the back. I am preparing to trek to Missoula for neurofeedback tomorrow with not two but three kids in tow, because pneumonia boy is not cleared for school attendance yet. Getting ready to spend my birthday money on gas for the trip, and hoping the van doesn't have any problems, because it is overdue for scheduled maintenance but seriously, when would it be ok for me to have a carless day?

Am I envying the good doctor? Well, duh. Missing the days when I traveled for work and having fond memories of exploring Chicago, Las Vegas, San Antonio, L.A. on my own? Yes.

But unhappy? Surprisingly, not really. Because you know what, I am rocking this. I am actually getting this done. I am not breaking down. Did you hear me? I have not yet lost it!

And I am remembering all the time that if my husband were not so awesome at taking on his share and often more than his share of the work when he is home, I wouldn't notice it so much when he is gone. I am in fact very lucky.

I remember talking in some English-major type class in college about elements that are so glaringly absent - in this case, from a novel - that they become presences in that novel. The absent presence. Maybe that is what I will call Dr. G when he is traveling.

'nStuff

How long since we had a stuff post? Oh, long. I mean a stuff I have and love post ... not a stuff-I-wish-for post. So. Let's have a stuff I love post. I am doing this fancy Amazon thing now, and I do get paid if you click and buy, but I promise you I will not link any bad deals or any stuff that I don't sincerely love.

Are you using sunscreen? I am trying so hard to be better about this. I live at a high altitude. The air is actually clean. The air is cold. It's easy to get fooled and it's super, super easy to get sunburned. I do not want to have skin cancer, never never never. And I have been burned so much in my life, I know I am already at risk. You need to use sunscreen, too! Every day!

This Neutrogena moisturizer is my favorite sunscreen product for everyday for my face. I used it before I started using Proactiv for my delightful adult acne issues. I am using it again now in addition to the Proactiv routine. Works fine. Is not stinky. Has handy pump dispenser. Cheaper than the (also excellent) Proactiv products that do the same thing.

I still use a Proactiv SPF 30 product when I'm going to be outside all day long, by the way.

Pay attention, this is a two-pack. That makes it as cheap as it is at WalMart. Good deal.

You could not call me a trendy person, really. But I do like to pretend I am keeping up with something somewhat current in my appearance. Very often it is nail polish, because nail polish is cheap and, let's be honest, doesn't care if I need to lose a few pounds.

Sally Hansen Complete Salon Manicure in the color Commander in Chic was my big fancy fashion splurge this winter. Heh.

I keep my toes painted even in winter now. Not what I would have thought would happen now that I live in the land of boots and sweaters and real winter parkas. But I go to class at the YMCA and spread out my yoga toes on the mat and we can't have them looking all gross and toe-ey, now, can we?

So Commander in Chic is gray, but it's sort of this multidimensional gray that changes hues in different light or with different clothing. When you wear brown with it, it looks taupe. When you wear it with brighter colors or pastels, it looks lavender. It's a great, great color.

This polish also has a really great rounded brush that makes it much easier to polish your nails without messing up. Also, price on Amazon about the same as Wal-Mart, so click up.

 Who loves perfume? Well, not everyone. But I do. What I love is really sweet perfume, really yummy smelling, usually with some gardenia somewhere in it.

Donna Karan is the lucky winner of my last two favorite-perfume titles. Her scent Gold was so fabulous; sadly for me it was discontinued, which left me using my remaining bottle only for special dates with Dr. G. Ahem.

Then I caught a whiff of Be Delicious. I had a hard time deciding between this version and the pink Fresh Blossom kind. Big surprise, in the end my favorite color won out. I used a Christmas gift card and my mailman brought it right to me! It is sweet and fruity and yummy. Today Z caught a whiff of it and tried to trade me for the water-filled body spray bottle I gave her a few months ago. Nice try, sweetie. And I appreciate that you have great taste. But N to the O.

And this perfume is being made as we speak, so I can wear it every single day except for when I am going to the doctor or a particular visiting teaching lady or to church where I know people are sensitive to it. So I can enjoy smelling myself almost all the time.

Do you remember the one singular thing I rock at as a mother? Hint: It is not speaking softly ... or keeping a clean house!

It is reading to my kids. We just finished Around the World in 100 days by Gary Blackwood, who also wrote The Shakespeare Stealer. He is a good, solid writer of historical novels - great teaching tools and lots of fun.

Around the World follows the adventures of Hari Fogg, son of the famous and fictional Phileas Fogg (how is that for alliteration?) who circumnavigated the globe in 80 days. Hari - more commonly known by his Anglicized name of Harry - does it all (except the oceans) in a steam-powered car with his best friend, a mechanical genius who suffers the effects of a head injury, an intrepid young woman reporter, and the annoying Charles Hardiman, who is the son of Hari's betting nemesis, railroad tycoon Julius Hardiman.

There's lots of great geography to learn. Lots of cultural fun, especially when Hari meets an Indian man who teaches him about that part of his own heritage. Sabotage, disaster and conflict plague them until the gripping finish. Very, very fun read. My A really identified with the dashing and adventurous biracial hero.

Once we finished "Harry," as my kids called the book, we jumped right into On the Blue Comet by Rosemary Wells.

Yes, that Rosemary Wells, Rosemary Wells of Max and Ruby fame, at least around here. Have you seen Zora reading Max's Chocolate Chicken? I can't believe that was a whole year ago. She is still a huge fan of Max and Ruby. Who wouldn't love Max and Ruby?

We are also loving Blue Comet. We just hit the big twist where it turns into more than a Depression-era coming-of-age story. I won't even tell you. Just the characters and the language will be enough to pull you in. You don't even need a twist, but what a great twist! Get the book!

Bonus: my oldest son who loves to call people "hobo" as a lighthearted insult is actually learning what a hobo was in that era and why people left their homes and rode the rails.

More stuff to love, no links:

• The Kirkland dried cherries from Costco. I am supposed to eat less chocolate because it contributes to kidney stones. Boo on that. But the cherries are a nice, indulgent but healthy substitute.
• Two dollars' worth of daffodils from Safeway. Bring an unreasonable amount of joy for a whole week if you buy them unopened and keep them watered.
• Thrifting in Missoula. Holy fun thrift stores up there.

That's all for tonight!

Devoid of strife

Today we sang "Gently Raise the Sacred Strain" in sacrament meeting. I love that hymn - beautiful melody, inspiring words about the sabbath and the sacrament. And what a blessing, we have had a holy day (mostly) devoid of strife. I thought I better write it down, because that doesn't happen too often. We are sort of a high-drama family sometimes.

The kids all got ready for church basically on time. I had to leave about 20 minutes before church started instead of our usual 10 (we are spoiled, aren't we!?) to get the room prepared for the Sunday School lesson I was teaching, so G brought S who had not yet finished breakfast. By some miracle (probably the miracle called Patient Daddy) the kid managed to get out of bed at 8:20 and still be at church, appropriately dressed, fed, and unstinky, by 9. With no screaming or fighting.

My friend Angie and her family spoke in sacrament meeting about families. They did a beautiful job focusing on the positive. As her husband spoke about the family he grew up in I had to fight off my usual pang of envy and bristle of resentment for the low-drama type families; it sounds like he grew up in a wonderful environment (I did, too) and has a great relationship with his family (there are spots where this is harder). He spoke about how his siblings voted to forgo Christmas one year so that his parents could pay for an expensive brace he needed in order to continue playing football, which was really important to him. I wish for peaceful and giving relationships like that. And then I tried to apply my work of the last year about acceptance and priorities and doing my best and letting go the rest. And it helped. And that allowed me to see past my issues and find the things I needed to apply from the talks today. Not easy stuff. Worthwhile stuff, though.

I taught my lesson, which was about three miracles from the Savior's ministry - the healing at the pool of Bethesda, the feeding of the 5,000, and Christ walking on the water. It was so up my alley, lots of talk about symbolism and grace. Or maybe I just made it that way. Anyway the class seemed reasonably engaged and it was a good experience for me. I do love how teaching or speaking seems to focus my study and prayer.

Relief Society was also lovely, and not just because the teacher brought us Cadbury Mini Eggs. Yeah, I've admitted it to my sister and a couple of friends - I am off the wagon with Mr. Sugar. I will try again. Anyway the lesson was about the Word of Wisdom and I was really pleased at how the ladies kept it understanding and non-judgmental. (Irony anyone? W of W lesson while sucking down the most addictive candy on earth?)

We had soup and sandwiches for lunch, then a lovely nap, interrupted only a couple of times by my enthusiastic Ms. Z. I made quiche and a big, yummy salad and talked to my parents on the phone while G and Z took Heidi the dog for a walk, and then after we ate the kids went outside to play with G while I ... did this. Blogging and facebooking. The fireplace is on, the clouds are layered high and feathery, and I have a lemon meringue pie in the fridge. What better dessert for a pie-type dinner than pie? Right?

Lovely Sunday.

Birthday Fairy

Dear Birthday Fairy,

In just more than a month I will be turning 37. Unmistakably closer to 40 than 30. I feel I should get some recognition for making it through the last year. Since you see me when I'm sleeping and know when I'm awake (that's you, right?) we don't have to go into details here.

Right now we have committed significant resources to medical stuff, and I'm grateful we can do that, but it's not exactly satisfying to shop for a kidney stone removal, hernia repair, or neurofeedback therapy. And it all leaves me no room to do real shopping. So what I'm going to do instead is make a wish list and turn it over to you. Then clap my hands three times and wish real hard.

We will start with a dress that reminds me of my 1970s childhood. It's my favorite color, green, with hippie embroidery. It looks so comfortable and pretty and perfect for a Montana summer.

This dress comes from Sahalie. I have a couple of other dresses bought on clearance from this place. They are easy to wear and always look good. I got them for like $20 each. This one, uh, costs a little more. Hey, if it were cheap I would just sneak it in to the monthly expenses.

While you are there at Sahalie, dear birthday fairy, I could use one of these for my wild hair. Have I mentioned how my post-35 hair bends in all kind of funky directions, which is disconcerting for a girl whose hair used to be stick-straight? And how I hate styling my hair? It's so boring. It takes up so much time that I would rather spend on other things. And yet I hate how it looks when I don't do anything.

Please bring it in pink. And if you want to bring me a black one and a white one, that would also be excellent. See, that could so be me, with the dangly earrings and the sun-kissed cheeks and the cute thing on my head.

Especially when I am in California this summer. Have I mentioned I am going to California this summer? I'm super excited.

One more fabulous item from Sahalie. This is a dream item. I will most likely still be dreaming of it next Christmas.

But look at these boots.

I got black Martino boots for Christmas from my thoughtful husband (after I thoughtfully sent him the link and let him know that these would be required in order for me to have a satisfying holiday). They do not disappoint. They fit like a dream and even accommodate my, ahem, more than athletic calves.

I need brown for other outfits. I was straitly trained by my father, no less, that one should not wear black shoes with brown clothing. It's ingrained in me. Way down deep. So this is a need, not a want. Maybe it will go on sale with summer coming? I could wear boots all summer long in Montana.

All right, moving on. I also need an Amazon gift card, because there is all kinds of new music that I urgently need.

First of all, a new album from Ari Hest, about whom I am still embarrassingly crushy.Did I tell you that when G and I went to see him live in Berkeley I was so crushy I couldn't really talk to him? And he talks to people at his shows.  Yeah, I'm a dork.

Ari has previewed a lot of music from this album on YouTube if you want to check it out.

He's also touring this spring. If he's close to you, dear Birthday Fairy, I really think you should go. In spite of my shyness, I'm awfully glad we drove from Merced to Berkeley for his show in November 2009. Unfortunately a Montana date does not appear to be on the list (shocker) and since I can't even afford to download MP3s this spring I'm sure you can understand I can't quite manage a trip to Denver (this weekend - sniff sniff!) or Seattle.

Guess who else has a new album? My other guitar-boy crush, Lenny Kravitz. Lenny, why is your new album not on Amazon? Will you get on that? I don't like downloading from iTunes. I think they're communists, which is how my husband's family tends to describe successful capitalists or anyone else who wants their money, especially if they don't provide a particularly satisfying product. (I still have a cheap Sansa mp3 player that works great, and iTunes won't sync to it, plus I resent digital rights management. I'm no criminal.)

Moving entirely out of the crush category (trust me) but more than securely in the we-are-not-worthy musical amazingness category, Paul Simon has a new album that will be out two weeks before my big day. I will need to be getting that.

The first single, "Getting Ready for Christmas Day" came out before the holidays. Those smart marketing people. It's not really a Christmas song, exactly, but it's really good. You can hear it here on YouTube.

Seriously, though, you should not even need to hear a single to know that a new Paul Simon album is going to be worth your music buck. It's Paul freaking Simon. Who has never made a bad song. That is all you need to know.

I also need some lumber and supplies to build cold frames for my garden.

And I need my piano tuned and my dog groomed.

That will do. Thank you, birthday fairy.

I wish you were real.

The latest

A short time ago I heard from a dear friend, our next door neighbor in our married-student-housing days at BYU. She expressed happiness to have found my blog, and I thought, oh, dear. I am not a very good blogger these days. Most of my thoughts go directly to facebook, posted in drive-by style, without too much thought. Also, that leaves out any broad view of what's happening in our family. So for my dear friend Patricia, and anybody else reading, here is the skinny.

Dr. G is in his second semester as a professor. He is working hard but not as busy as the first semester. His department intentionally gave him a lighter load to allow him to work on course development and research. This was very kind. It also allows him a little more family time, and we're all grateful for that. The first semester was really hard on everyone. He has won four small grants so far this year, as I posted earlier, and is working on a new research project on Georgetown Lake, Montana. That's where he is all week this week. At least it's in the 40s outside, not any colder. Maybe we're starting to feel just the edge of the aura of spring.

I am always finding myself with more brilliant ideas than I have capacity to follow through on. I'm trying hard to focus on what's really essential: caring for myself in mind, body and spirit; supporting the kids' education; helping others when I can. Then comes freelance work. Not saying I always succeed at making these my priorities - facebook wins way too often, and some days I feel like I'm failing at everything. But, I get back up again and usually things click along ok. I am enjoying a new church job, organizing activities for the Relief Society every other month and serving in the presidency of that organization. I miss the Primary kids but also love getting to know the adult women a lot better.

S is homeschooling still - it's hard to stay motivated at this time of year, but we keep going on the essentials and try to grab the occasional extracurricular educational experience when we can. Recently we loved an anti-tobacco presentation by Victor DeNoble. Great speaker with a very important message! He even showed monkey brains, real ones, which S termed "disgusting, but interesting." Yes, that about sums up monkey brains. S has been working with a new doctor and undergoing neurofeedback training to strengthen some of his challenging areas and prepare for seventh grade in public school this fall. It's a big commitment for us financially and time-wise, but G and I have felt really good about it as well as very grateful that we actually have the resources to do this for S. We think of it like braces for the brain! Of course he will probably need braces for his teeth sometime in the next few years, as well ... but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it! He is huge (5'4", 120 pounds) and still loves Legos, video games, and Scouts.

A is so close to finishing fourth grade, he can almost taste it! He has had a wonderful and supportive teacher this year (I love it when my kids get the more experienced teachers - they may not love them the most but I can tell there's a benefit to having done your job for a while!) and really enjoys being with his classmates and friends. All the little girls love him; he's so handsome and charming. He has an eye for one in particular, and fortunately is open with me about it; I constantly remind him that they should just be friends and not worry about "love stuff" right now! I am getting my big stick ready for the teen years. He is learning (from his mistakes) about homework habits and organization. Thank goodness we still have a couple months before the end of the year for him to prove himself and get ready for the next grade. Fourth is really a change and a challenge - that has been true for both my kids who have been there so far. A is taking guitar lessons, which he really enjoys, and loves to play sports and read novels. He's also active in Cub Scouts.

K has made a great breakthrough this year on reading. It's one of my favorite stages - when the kid is so excited to read that they read everything. Super cute. And then they realize that once they know how to put the pieces together, they can read anything - even big chapter books! So he's working on that, now. I have to give a little credit to Concerta. It has made a great difference for my bouncy little boy and let us see his true potential. He has a good little group of school friends with whom he plays after school. Darling little boys. K remains my skinny, scrawny one - still in a size 6. He's the only one of my kids to wear his age (as a clothing size) consistently. Will we get to size 7 by this summer? Seems unlikely at the moment. His favorite things are playing with his friends (Legos, action figures, you name it) video games, and dawdling in the mornings. Sorry, I just could not resist that. It's a bit of a crazy-maker for me. Love my little K. One of my favorite things is his habit of sitting on my lap at church. He used to have to do that or he could not sit. Now he is just used to it and I like it. It keeps me warm when the heat in the chapel is wonky (which is a lot).

Z is my joy and my challenge - such a wonderful snuggler, clever comedienne, cute little mommy to her dolls and the dog, and basically bored out of her mind with only two days of preschool a week. It is hard to keep up with how much input she needs, and she is pretty nasty about it when she's not getting what she needs! We try to have friends over frequently to help take the pressure off me, and get to the YMCA as much as possible so she can play with her friends  in the daycare there. Her hair is finally growing out from her self-inflicted pixie cut last summer. She is so cute. Really. This fall she will go to 4-day-a-week preschool. Is it evil to say I can't wait?

That leaves the dog. Well, she is a love mooch, and that is alternately cute and annoying. She is also a cheese mooch, literally obsessed with cheese, and that's only annoying. I still love taking her for walks, and I'm glad I can do it again after that kidney stone debacle. She stinks like dog, sheds like a maniac and needs her claws clipped. I feel like I don't know how to do the bathing or clipping, and G doesn't have time. I am thinking maybe next month I will take her to a groomer and watch how they do things. (I always think I am going to have spare money next month. Hahahaha.) She is a good doggie. We love her.

There you have it, a snapshot of our family as of today. Now I feel a little less guilty.

Belatedly

We will just call this a late Valentine post. I did do a big project to surprise Dr. G for Valentine's Day, but I neglected to write him my usual mushy card or letter. And this morning I was just thinking about how rad he is (that word is like a special gift for him that only he will get) , and now here I am blogging about it.

Last night he came home from taking S to Scouts and reminded me to put my van in the garage. I didn't do it. This morning I headed out, bracing myself to brush off snow and warm up a very frigid vehicle. It was one degree fahrenheit this morning. Cold.

Guess where my van was? In the garage. My man is the man.

He also fixes the toilets and leaves funny notes about it. Keeps my knives sharp. Does the dishes. Walks the dog. I am a well cared for woman.

He got a grant this week at work. He has gotten four little grants this year that start to add up to biggish money. He has applied for ... guess how many grants this year? Four. Smarty!

I love my Valentine!

Humbled

Great big kidney stone. I feel it starting about January 13th. It hurts, but not like the stone I had two years ago, which is a mercy, because that one had me sweating and doubled over and thinking for sure I had a ruptured appendix and certain death looming. I spend last week getting diagnosed and scheduled for a lithotripsy. No doctor in my town is free. Meanwhile, two kids get sick with colds. I go to Missoula Friday for a consult. Then, yesterday, surgery.
It seems like it's going to be no biggie. It's outpatient, it's considered minimally invasive, no incisions, blah blah.

In the hospital (first time ever in a hospital except for that ER trip two years ago with the killer stone) I have this bizarre feeling: I don't have to do anything. There are people all around me taking care of me. They bring me warm blankets and magazines. After the procedure, tomato soup and crackers, grape juice, ice water in a sippy cup. (Good tomato soup, too, with little chunks of yummy tomato, not overly sweet.) It's like somebody else is doing my job.

My friends, bless them forever, take my kids. My husband runs people to the doctor's office and picks up medicines at the pharmacy and grabs milk and stuff at the grocery store. I am mostly helpless. I dose up on two hydrocodones and one Advil Liquigel (my heretofore best friend) this afternoon so I can get the kids through homework and chores while G gets some work done. I feel super but apparently overdo it and have to lie down at 4:30 and order Domino's. I have some bleeding that I think is exacerbated by the Advil. No more of that.

I'm so helpless. I'm so humbled. I'm so grateful that, usually, I have my health. Hope it's back soon.

A million thanks to all who are praying and helping and supporting me. I can't imagine what it's like when a mom hits a really serious health crisis. I know it happens. I hope not to me.

(P.S. If I find out this stone was really caused by diet cola, that might be enough to make me kick the habit forever, and I mean forever.)

Comfort

There are a few things I own that I have had forever. Of course there are things I keep for their sentimental value - dresses made by my mom for my high school proms and balls, elementary school art work, letters from friends, raggedy blankets. I don't think I'm a pack rat, but for me to still have something that I had 20 or even 30 years ago is not that unusual.

The rare thing is that object that is still used regularly.

This sweatshirt came from a shop in Trolley Square in Salt Lake in 1989. I believe I suckered my dad into buying it for me. Sometimes I was successful like that. For the record, I have never been to Scotland. I do have Scots ancestors and, you know, a tartan and stuff. And a really, really soft, old sweatshirt. Useful for days when I am sick or cold or both. It is starting to get a few tiny holes in it.

These are my huge, chunky Vasque hiking boots. They were one of my splurge items when I got my first job after college. In case you're wondering, that was in 1996. They went up Rock Canyon in Provo, a lot. They have also taken my feet out hiking on active lava flow on the Big Island, up a lot of stone steps in Yosemite, and recently, on a lot of long walks on icy sidewalks with Heidi the dog. I think they might need new laces soon, but other than that, they are as good as new. Excellent traction and stability. Hiking boots don't usually look like this anymore; the design has definitely changed in the last 15 years. I don't care. I love them.

Midwives

Earlier this month we had a massive swapfest at Relief Society. I was super proud of myself because I brought about three boxes of books to it, and I only came home with two books! One of them was Midwives by Chris Bohjalian. I grabbed it because it had an Oprah's Book Club emblem, I cannot tell a lie. I never watch Oprah and I have some issues with her whole materialistic/pseudo-spiritual philosophy (and she called her new thing OWN? Really, as in OWN more stuff!) but I have found she usually chooses decent reads.

Midwives was a good one. Part legal thriller, part women's health manifesto, part family drama, it kept me engaged as I blasted through it in just a couple of days because I have not been feeling too hot. (Would that a midwife could perform a lithotripsy for me, because all the doctors around here seem to be very busy.)

The story is told from the point of view of the teen daughter of a young Vermont ex-hippie lay midwife in the early 1980s. It's also seen through excerpts from the midwife's diary. The midwife is assisting a home birth during an ice storm when the laboring mother dies suddenly and the midwife must perform a c-section to save the baby. The state prosecutes the midwife for manslaughter and for practicing medicine without a license. It gets more complicated than that, but that's kind of the foundation of the story.

Considering that it's about late-20th century secular mores and pregnancy and childbirth, it's a pretty darn chaste book. OK for even very sensitive readers in that regard, I would say.

What I really liked was its treatment of how different people view events and remember them differently, and how even people who are as sure as they can be of themselves may look back on past actions with doubt and regret. Moments come in life when we make huge decisions. And sometimes we have to look back and question those decisions the rest of our lives.

It was interesting for me to read it as I am permanently closing the door on fertility. (Yes, that process is taking me a while, ok?) I used to have opinions on everything related to pregnancy and childbirth and nursing and parenting. Now, a lot of it is pretty irrelevant for me. I guess I have also learned that everybody does whatever works for them, and homebirthing hippies and regimented schedulers can both make good parents and have good families. Times have changed! I'm still interested in what people do, but I'm kind of past making those decisions for myself and definitely past thinking I have a clue how other people should approach them.

Thumbs up on the book. Enjoy.

Sa-weet muffins

I found a recipe for agave-sweetened pumpkin muffins online and made some modifications. They turned out fantastic and I thought I would share!

Agave-Molasses Pumpkin Muffins
3 cups finely ground whole wheat flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup olive oil
3/4 cup agave
3/4 cup molasses
2 eggs
1 can (15 ounces) pumpkin puree
2 tablespoons water

In large bowl, combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg; set aside. Melt butter in large saucepan; cool. Whisk agave, molasses, egg, water, olive oil, and pumpkin into the butter. Gradually add to flour mixture, mixing until just blended. Spoon into 24 greased or paper-lined 2-1/2 inch muffin cups. Bake at 350°F for 25 to 30 minutes, or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Remove muffins from pan to wire rack. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Breakup letter

Dear Sugar,

We've been together a long time. My mom says you may have honed in on me even before I was born. We've had some great times and been to some great places. I've met you in pies and cookies and lately, some really fabulous handmade caramels.

Here's the thing, though. It's been almost 37 years and I've realized that no matter how much I'm into you, you're never going to love me back. I don't say this to hurt you - not that I think you'd care if I did - but I'm thinking that makes you a bad boyfriend. You might not be doing it on purpose, but you've been hurting me.

You're making me fat, honestly, and ashamed of myself. After I hang out with you I have a harder time being nice to the people who do love me back. Recently I found out that all this time you've been cutting me up inside, literally, scraping my artery walls so it's easier for plaque to hang out there. Dude, that's gross. Everybody knows you're not good for my teeth. You wear me down and make it easier for me to get sick. Also, I can't prove it, but I think the adult acne might be your fault.

So I think this means I'm breaking up with you. I know you'll be all cool about it and say "let's be friends" and stuff, but I just can't. At least not until I'm over you, and that might take a while. Maybe like a year.  So I'm not going to be seeing you anymore for at least that long. Period. I may occasionally get together with your cousins Agave and Honey, in a cup of tea or on a pancake or something. And you know I cannot quit hanging with that gorgeous natural beauty, Fructose. But you, I have to let go.

If you see me in a dark chocolate bar every now and then, just turn the other way. I will not acknowledge you. I'm just there for the antioxidants.

Buh-bye,
Ana

The Swan Thieves

It's been a while since I reviewed a book. Heck, it's been a while since I read a book. Fall and winter got crazy. But getting lost in a book is good for my soul sometimes, and I was excited to read this second book from the Elizabeth Kostova, author of The Historian, The Swan Thieves. So excited that I had no idea it was available until I happened on it at the dreaded WalMart. This is my life now. Our library is closed because of a flood, I have a shelf full of overdue books, and I am getting my reading material from the evil empire because I can sometimes disingenuously squeeze it in with the laundry detergent budget.

I have told numerous people that if they want a vampire novel that will not make them resent the time they spend on it, they should read The Historian. Still true.

The Swan Thieves was engaging all through. Kostova has created a nice group of flawed but likable characters - even the main artist, Robert Oliver, is sympathetic in his mental illness. The book has a lot to say about the cost of loving a genius, specifically a genius who is kind of imbalanced in the brain, and the sacrifices made by women in terms of art and career when they love men and become mothers. I liked that.

It did remind me a lot of Possession, in that it traced a dual story - modern people studying about predecessors in their fields and discovering a hidden romance.  And Possession was so amazing, I wouldn't blame any writer for taking a shot at imitating the structure. Kostova did a pretty good job, I would say.

Maybe because I kept thinking about the Byatt book, The Swan Thieves didn't have the same wow factor for me that I felt with The Historian. But it was still a great read.

Holy

My heart has been right up on the surface for this whole Christmas season. Everything makes me cry. Everything seems precious, holy.

It's partly because I've been through some difficult times this year. I've been humbled a little.

It's partly because I've dived into Christmas like I think I never have before. Music, decorating, baking, I have been into every bit of it, ever since we came back from our Thanksgiving trip to Utah. It's my first whole Christmas season in my own home (it took us almost the whole season last year just to unpack an settle in). I love it.

It's also partly because I have really been focused on improving my spirituality. I'm studying every day for the first time in a while - not just reading but studying, writing about my thoughts and feelings. I'm praying in a different way. I'm trying to do something more each day to bring the Spirit into my life, too - listening to a conference talk while I work out, sacred music in the car, reading from a Church magazine, serving someone. This stuff makes a big difference. I'm trying to choose faith every day. It changes who I am. Not that I don't still have a long way to go - I am still impatient and demanding and difficult sometimes. But I have different thoughts when I am making this kind of effort. I like it better.

Here are some things I have been thinking about Christmas.

How many poets and composers have tried to imagine Mary's lullaby to the infant Christ? We feel sure she sang, although the books we have don't record it. I feel it, because I, too, sing to children of God.

Holy days, these days when my kids are young and excited and still learning and all together under our roof. Just being together is so sacred.

I was blessed with the opportunity to coordinate a donation from the Bishop's Storehouse to our local homeless shelter. We also collected new pillows and various paper goods for them from the members of our ward. When I spoke with the director near the beginning of this month to determine their needs, she told me one of their residents had a three week old baby girl, born while her parents were living in the shelter. My heart broke. I understood the plight of the Christ Child in a new way. How blessed I am to have a clean, safe, secure place for my children. Earlier this week when we delivered the food donation, I saw the baby in her car seat, tiny and shell-pink and perfect, just beautiful. She was on her way out with her parents to move into a new apartment that very day. Christmas miracle. Also that very day, the shelter had made up 70 food baskets for families in need, effectively emptying their pantry. We were able to restock their shelves. I am so grateful to have been even just an intermediary in that process.

Merry Christmas. Holy Day.

Snow pics

And good things to do on snowy days.

Homeschool.

Bury your grudges ... or the person you have a grudge against?

Play with your dog.

Play inside. With a hat, you can be like a grown up lady.

Get ready for the big day.

Curl up with a quilt and a good book. (Pictured: "The Queen of Style")

Cuddle up in your crate with ... a mirror? Well, this dog lives with a little diva; what can we say?

I've created a monster

My K has been a Michael Jackson fan ever since he first came to our house at age 3. He immediately found and loved the movie Free Willy, previously forgotten in our collection of VHS tapes. You could read a lot into that because of the story about the kid in foster care and everything, and maybe it's all true, I don't know for sure. But the thing he loved most was the MJ video at the beginning. Heaven forbid you should fail to rewind the thing all the way and miss that video.

He doesn't watch it so much now. Which is fine. But we did introduce the kids to the long-form "Thriller" on Halloween. K wants to watch it every few days. So I showed him how to find a collection of MJ videos on our Blu-Ray player. (We love that thing and its streaming Netflix. Joy.)

Since then, it's almost nonstop. The kids find MJ weird and fascinating, just like all of us. Especially the changes in his appearance. But they love the long-form videos for "Bad" and "Black or White" with their simple, didactic stories. A keeps trying to imitate the dance moves, which is certainly something to see.

I have to say, I wasn't a huge MJ fan in my youth. Never owned a cassette, even. Mostly I was too young when he was really huge - fourth grade when "Thriller" was everywhere. But that's it; it was everywhere. I remember a kid playing it on a boom box in the school bus on the way to my rural Oklahoma elementary. It was part of what I marinated in during my childhood. And now it's part of me, and I do think the guy was kind of a genius with the infectious beats and the feel-good messages

So I pass it on to my kids. That's all right, isn't it?

Decided

As you can see, we made a decision about becoming a dog-companioned family. This is Heidi Irina. She's a young, small-size German Shepherd/cowdog cross. She is calm and sweet and just a love. She came from Montana German Shepherd Dog Rescue in Hamilton. She's kind of lazy and mostly wants to be snuggled. Lucky for Z.

November

Two of my kids were placed for adoption voluntarily by their birthmoms. I am always amazed by their selfless choice. If ever I know I need to do something but feel it is just too difficult for me, I think of them. Because of my experience as a foster parent, I know what it's like to say goodbye to a baby you love with no guarantee you'll ever meet again. It's one of the most lonely and desolate feelings I've encountered. It takes amazing strength to endure that voluntarily in the best interest of your child. These birthparents are phenomenal.

My other two kids joined our family through the foster care system. Their birthparents wouldn't have chosen to give them up. They were removed for their best interest by a system that, although imperfect, employs many good people who do truly want to keep children safe and help them find good, loving, permanent families. These adoption workers can be angels on earth.

On our journey to build our family we have been blessed with good and supportive friendships with other adoptive families. We were part of a group that uncertainly entered adoptive-parent education classes together in the fall of 1998 at LDS Family Services in Salt Lake City and continued to meet and socialize together for several years as gradually children joined our families. I have relied on advice and support from a diverse group of women from the Adoptive Parents bulletin board that began at iVillage.com around that time (now we congregate on a private board). Blog friends have offered kind words. And we have met people through church and other avenues who have been wonderful examples and thoughtful friends. I think you will understand that it is not vanity and I am not necessarily referring to us when I say that adoptive parents make up a generally awesome group that we are humbled to be part of.

One last party. Last but not least. Those kids. They are beautiful, fun, smart, quirky, challenging. They come with their own spirits and personalities. They have experienced loss. They are affected by the lives they had before they came to us. They are resilient and strong. They are the stars of the show. They are why we are all doing what we do. They are the super-fantastic, always interesting, sacred and special children of adoption.

November is National Adoption Month. I am a mom through adoption. I am so grateful I have the chance.

All Hallow's Read

Author Neil Gaiman suggests a new Halloween tradition: give a scary book. I'm a sucker for book gifts, so even though I wonder how much this new holiday tradition will benefit this author of the scary books I love, I will promote it and possibly even hit the used book shop tomorrow (payday ain't 'till Monday, folks, and we've had an expensive month, not that I'm complaining as I type happily on my shiny, red laptop).

So here are some of my favorite literary creepies.

First, "Satan and Sam Shay," a 1940s short story by Robert Arthur. I don't know of any instances of this story currently in print. I grew up with it in an anthology called The Looking Glass Book of Short Stories. I found a copy in another anthology called Out of This World, edited by Julius Fast. It has been published in other anthologies as well. I actually  entered my 11-year-old's pit of a bedroom to find our copy and get the title and editor. That tells you three things: (1) I love you enough to get this information for you; (2) I love this story enough to get that information for you; (3) It appeals to an 11-year-old enough that he squirrels it away in his pit of a bedroom. (It's not that terrible. The main problem is the LEGOs on the floor. Like a minefield.) The story tells how the clever Sam Shay outwits the devil after a deal that seems certain to lose him his soul.  Naturally, the man who can cheat Lucifer starts up an insurance agency in the end. I don't think that's a spoiler. Hat tip to my dad for selling me on this story in my youth.

For out-of-this-world sci-fi creepiness and disturb-o factor, along with another level that makes you think about being human and religious and cultural judgments, The Sparrow and Children of God by Mary Doria Russell. The plot involves a Catholic missionary expedition to an alien world with (maybe this is too obvious) completely different mores than those of Earth - and all the aftermath of that contact.

These two were mind-changing books for me, with the added benefit of being total page-turners. That meant I had to read them twice each to absorb the ideas after my initial plot binge, and I almost never do that unless the second round is a read-aloud to my kids. These books are not for kids. For real.

But if you are an Orson Scott Card fan ready to go a new place, consider this trip. (There were some parallels with, for example, Children of the Mind.)

For a chilling dose of what's creepy in the type of people you meet on a daily basis, try Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. At first you won't see what's creepy about it. If I tell you much more, it will be a spoiler. But it's not a horror book. It's a oh-man-is-the-human-race-in-trouble book. Sometimes that's far scarier than ghosts and ghouls.

There is a movie coming up with a lot of stylish young stars in it. So if you want to read the book first (and if you see these kinds of movies), hustle. It is worth it. As for me, I see grown-ups' films so infrequently that it's probably more realistic to say I'll flip through the book again for my human-nature shivers.

Finally, ok, pretty much anything by Neil Gaiman. My friend Miriam is to blame for recommending his books. I've talked about them before. Coraline, The Graveyard Book, Anansi Boys, American Gods (which made me wonder if Rick Riordan read it before he wrote Percy Jackson) Good Omens ... you can start where you like. Make sure there's someplace you can get some sunshine when you've finished. Otherwise ... ooooh, creepy.

Happy All Hallow's Read.

MLB, fall and Halloween

Just some season-associated randoms tonight.

• Facebook makes it amusing, right now, to have friends in NorCal and in Texas. I have to say if I had to pick a side I would choose the Giants. But I have never watched a MLB game in my entire life, so my endorsement could not be more meaningless.
• I love everybody's kids in their Halloween costumes. I think I may be getting over my years as the Scrooge of Halloween. Is it the chill in the air? The bare branches and snow-silvered slopes? The fabulously feathered faux ravens I found at K-mart? The fact that when we have a family pumpkin-carving activity I am no longer the only one actually doing anything?
• Speaking of the weather, today K entered the house complaining that it was too hot. The thermometer on my back porch read 50 degrees. I guess he's acclimated.
• I am really weary of homeschooling right now, 2.5 months into the school year. Here's hoping I find a rejuvenating factor, and pronto. 
• Z and I made the most delicious cupcakes for the preschool Halloween party. From cake mix and canned frosting with Reese's Pieces on top. I am not my pastry-chef sister (and I do not pretend my cupcakes compare with hers). I am not Martha Stewart or Family Fun. I am not here to impress you. I got the cupcakes done, darn it.
• On that topic. You do not have to make Halloween costumes. All you people who are staying up late tonight doing that, you know, it must be because you love doing it. Right?
• Halloween on Sunday. Big topic for Mormons. We have decided not to trick-or-treat that day, but I can understand why others would make a different choice. The great thing is that we had a party for preschool today, as I mentioned; the elementary school kids have parties and a parade tomorrow; we can trick or treat around several businesses in town tomorrow; and there's a church trunk-or treat Saturday night. So really we have three days of Halloween celebrations, and that's pretty good restitution for missing out on a Sabbath-day candy spree.
• We went to Big Hole National Battlefield last week in conjunction with S's homeschool history unit on the Indian wars in our region. The drive there (we went the Anaconda route) was supernally gorgeous, with golden leaves on the slopes and red willows by the creeks. The Pioneer Range is astounding. Dr. G's grandpa was born in the little town of Wisdom, Montana, so I talked that up for the kids. But of course the piercing, heartbreaking aspect of the day was the tragic battle that happened in that place - standing on the ground where Chief Joseph stood - amazing.

In memory of a good dog

Today, Dr. G's parents had to have their Australian Shepherd Dog, Katydid, put down. In memory of Katy, I write about dogs.


I didn't grow up with animals, really. We had sporadic experiences with pet hamsters, a couple of different cats for short periods of time, and once, a turtle that we caught on our rural Oklahoma road. There were times we had chickens and ducks, and even pigs, but those weren't pets. They were experiments in self-sufficiency.

For two weeks we once had a black lab mix named Lizabelle. My mom realized quickly that she was going to be the one to have to take care of it. Lizabelle went back to the pound. Guess my mom felt four children (numbers five and six had not yet made their entrances) constituted enough responsibility for one woman.

I waffle. Sometimes I think I don't need any more responsibilities. Sometimes I think my kids need a dog.

Here are the points that make me consider dog ownership.

• I am always a little nervous around animals. I don't want my kids to feel that way. From the photo above, you can see that currently they don't.
• We lived in Salt Lake at the time Elizabeth Smart was kidnapped. I actually saw her at Liberty Park once, during her ordeal, without knowing it was her. (If you remember, her face was covered when she was out in public.) I have always thought there would be a good chance that horrible thing never would have happened to her if there'd been a dog sleeping at the foot of her bed.
• I would like someone to go with me to help me feel secure and protected if I feel like going on a walk in the dark. Or to go with me up a mountain trail. Or to camp with my family in bear country.
• I am horribly allergic to cats. Heh.

On the other hand, I have two kids with ADHD and two with asthma. I'm a homeschooling mom. I am trying to maintain a freelance writing and editing business. I am trying to get the bare bones basics done in terms of exercise and spiritual practice. I am already neglecting my own personal and creative needs far more than I think is healthy. My husband is a first-year professor. I see him usually between 7 and 10 p.m. I am lucky he still cleans up after dinner. I don't think I could count on much help from him with a new canine companion. As for my kids, let's get real. I can barely get them to take care of their own bodily needs and physical surroundings in an appropriate way. Do I really want to fight the go-out-and-shovel-poop battle?

I look at pictures of dogs on the shelter web site now, wistfully, in the same way I used to look at photo listings of waiting children when I felt strongly we were meant to have more children in our family. Sometimes I tell myself it's time to pee or get off the pot. I have been thinking about this ever since we bought our house. That's almost a year. A long time to think.

Katy was a good dog. But she got her name because she was such a naughty puppy. If anything was chewed, peed on, or ruined in some other way, my in-laws could be pretty certain Katy did it, so she was named Katydid. She was so funny as a young dog, super smart and charming in a very breed-specific way. I remember her playing sock tug-o-war with my husband and herding us on our walks.

This summer when we visited Alaska, my little puppy-loving Z got to know Katy in her twilight. Katy was hurting, tired, old. Z was enthusiastic, loving, silly. Katy's patience was superb. She let Z read her stories, lead her around, use her as a canine pillow. She was a good, good dog.

Run fast in doggie heaven, Katydid.