This basket arrived the other day, much to the kids’ delight. We love pancakes, and I hate not being able to find syrup without HFCS in it, which is why I entered the contest. The basket includes Log Cabin syrup (with no high-fructose corn syrup), Mrs. Butterworth’s complete pancake & waffle mix, a whisk, a spatula, a plate and a glass. Isn’t it adorable?
Just a little more than a year ago, we decided at the last minute to go to Norway for the holidays. My husband’s grandmother was gravely ill, and we hoped to see her one more time. (She died just a few days before we got there.)
Linda also gave me free rein to redesign the blog, which I did over my crazy summer. I had some hits and misses. A photographer promised the use of an image then wouldn’t return e-mails or telephone calls. So I scrambled for a suitable replacement, and I got something even better. I called on someone I knew, Kristine Freed.
With the help of Kristine and Sherilyn Brinker of Brinker-Freed Photographyand new mother-of-twins Kerrin Laari and her 5-week-old babies, Elise and Ian, I had a fabulous image to use on the blog.
None of it would have happened, though, without Jo-Lynne at DCR Design. She made the header and buttons, arranged and rearranged everything and even called me to give me a crash course in making my own changes. (Though I’m still fairly hopeless in that department.) I would have made a big announcement on the blog by now, but I’m having technical difficulties with Typepad, and I haven’t been able to sign on. As soon as I get it figured out, though, I’ll get something posted.
Seriously, what else is one supposed to eat for breakfast in December?
I need a Wii Fit to work off the sugar cookies and chocolate stars come the New Year. What do you think, Loser Moms?
How do I get inspired to work out? Here’s the deal.
When I had three babies in diapers and my doctor asked me if I exercised, I gave him a dark look and a sarcastic chuckle. (Maybe it was more of a crazy cackle.) Do I exercise? Well, I live in a two-story house, and I carry two babies (at one time) up and down the stairs umpteen times a day and a toddler umpteen more. I bounce one baby in the bouncy seat with a foot while breastfeeding the other baby and reading a book to the toddler. And the diapers? Yeah. I change at least 20 a day, give or take. Do I exercise.
Hmph.
My babies aren’t babies anymore, and I’m not carrying them everywhere or changing diapers. But work out?
Who says I don’t work out every day?
Know how much of a workout it is to get them dressed like this, out the door, in the car and off to school in 10 minutes flat?
Or how much of a workout it is to trudge through the snowdrifts to gather wood for the fireplace?
Or to chase after a 50-pound puppy whose reaction to, “Come!” is this look?
Or just to keep from freezing in general?
Oh, wait. You want to know what inspires me to work out … just for me?
Blink, blink.
You can do that? … Really?
To quote George Bailey: I want a Wii. [sob] I want a Wii!
1. Where was I 10 years ago?
Probably living in a rental by now after selling our house and getting ready to move to Norway in a few months.
2. What is on my to-do list today?
Call about recycling (we don’t have garbage service here)
Call about the gas tank in our yard … when does it need to be filled?
Order pictures
3. What would I do if I were a billionaire? I’m with Alisa. I would never, ever fly commercial again. I would never put my money in my old bank. I would build a home in Norway and visit often (never flying commercial, ever again, mind you).
4. Five places I have lived
Georgia
Florida
Illinois
Nebraska
Norway
5. Three bad habits
Procrastinating
Not reading instructions thoroughly
Cursing (see first two)
6. Snacks I like
Corn chips
Pretzels
Chocolate-covered peanuts
That’s my son wearing my dad’s outfit, which Dad wore in the picture my son is holding.
I did it again.
That’s me and my brother [mumble-mumble] years ago. My mom made our outfits for a centennial celebration in our little town. Come to think of it, I believe she made a matching dress for herself. Whether that and my brother’s outfit still exist, I’m not sure. My outfit — except for the drawstring purse — still does, though. I dug it up and washed it before my daughters were too big to wear it anymore.
My first daughter was all over the idea of dressing up for pictures, especially since she also got to wear her dressy shoes. (She loves her dressy shoes.) She posed and smiled and even tried to dip her head.
My other daughter? She was having none of it. I asked her every day for the last week if she wanted to wear Mommy’s dress. Nope, she said, especially if it meant taking off her shirt. (???) I told her she didn’t have to take off her shirt. Nope. I called it a princess dress. Nope. A princess prairie dress. Nope. A pretty princess prairie dress. Nope. She wasn’t buying it. She might have been tempted if it looked more like this. (Notice the shirt underneath.)
Nagging an almost 4-year-old doesn’t work, although I did tell her yesterday that she would probably regret not wearing this dress for a picture a few years down the road. I imagined the conversation I would have with the girl who can repeatrepeatrepeat something 3,492 times — or until it wears a hole in my head.
I figured I’d get the “Why didn’t you take a picture of me in your dress?” and “You always loved her best!” and, you know … “MarciaMarciaMarcia!”
But it didn’t come down to that. I asked her again if she wanted to wear my dress and take pictures, and she said YES! I dropped everything, dressed her up and took her outside before she could change her mind.
Here she is.
Only problem was, the other daughter cried the entire time. Two daughters. One dress. Sigh. Oh well. She got to wear it again after we were done. (Notice the teary eyes and the red nose.)
Stay tuned for I dress my children in very old clothes, Part 2.
So I did a meme the other day. I mentioned a Johnson who was president. Why? I thought it would be a good segue into the “I come from a long line of Johnsons” bit. I also mentioned the only Johnna I’ve ever known, and I haven’t even said her name in, oh, almost 30 years. (Dang. Where is that yearbook?)
Then I ran across this article in Newsweek, My Turn: Don’t Just Call Me Jane, written by — a woman named Johnna, who writes about her unique name. (This other Johnna read the article and blogged about it.) While several people named Johnna responded in the comments, it’s still a fairly uncommon name.
The next day, my newspaper ran a full-page article about not just any ol’ Johnson but Lyndon Baines Johnson, called This is LBJ Country, with a Johnson City dateline.
That same day? We went to look at a house for sale on Johnston Road. (No, no. Nothing serious. Just looking.)
4. I can’t think of many “Johns” in the family, though, except middle names and those who married into the family. I went to school with a girl named Johnna and a boy named Jan. My first best friend in high school was named Johanna.
5. This is my favorite picture of my dad.
6. This is my second favorite. It’s a picture I took of my son, holding Dad’s baby picture and wearing the same outfit Dad wore in the picture.
7. Even though we grew up in various places, everyone in my immediate family (mom, dad & sibs) was born in Nebraska.
8. Everyone in my little family was born in a town with five letters: Molde, Omaha, Tampa. Our birthdays last year were all on Sunday.
Magpie Musing wants to know what’s on page 123 of the first book within my reach. I’m surrounded by books. I have books on the shelves in front of me. Books in stacks on the floor beside me. Books stacked on top of the shelves. While I’m not actually reading it, the nearest book, however, is one I bought in Norway for the kids, Jostein Gaarder’s Julemysteriet (The Christmas Mystery).
I have read two of his books Sophie’s World (Sofies verden), which was made into a movie, and The Solitaire Mystery (Kabalmysteriet). Here’s a little diversion from the main topic at hand. It’s a trailer to the movie Sofies verden, which apparently isn’t available in English yet. I guess it’s not so easy to get the Norwegian version either. I haven’t seen it yet, but I’d like to.
I saw Gaarder at some literature festival or other several years ago. I thought it was Bjørnsonfestivalen, but I still have a tote bag from then, and it has Bokbadet På Tur on it. So who knows.
Anyway. Here’s what’s on page 123 of the book that’s closest to me, Julemysteriet by Jostein Gaarder.
– Joda, svarte pappa. — Men det har jo egentlig ingen betydning hva hun het.
Den siste som sa noe før de måtte skynde seg å spise frokost, var Joakim.
– Jeg synes det har ganske stor betydning, sa han. — For også damen på bildet het Elisabet.
Pappa doesn’t think it matters what her name is. Joakim, on the other hand, does. He things it matters a lot because the woman in the picture is named Elisabet.
If you want to know what’s on page 123 of books I’m actually reading, here are a couple of passages.
In the fall of 2004, when the kidnapping started, it became very necessary not to be publicly identified on the streets as a foreigner. I wear a scarf, I wear Iraqi-style clothing. I don’t go with the whole abaya [the traditional full-body garment for Islamic women] because I don’t walk like I’m an Iraqi that’s in an abaya. — Liz Sly, Chicago Tribune
I kept a blue Magic Marker with me at all times. My favorite tags were “Lady Cupcake, Slob Killer”; “Lady Cupcake, 60’s Killer” (to denote “60’s Killer,” I’d write “60’s” and then mark a giant X over the 60’s); or “Lady Cupcake — Gangsta Ca-rip Cuzzz.” Gangstas also taught me how to make money by “working a store.”
That’s from A Piece of Cake, a memoir by Cupcake Brown, who practices law in San Francisco. I’m almost halfway through her book. I just read about her third pregnancy/second abortion. Her first pregnancy ended in miscarriage brought on by a severe beating by girls in her foster home … when she was 13. That was after turning tricks, a stint in the hospital for alcohol poisoning and running away repeatedly from the abusive foster home, where her biological father put her after her mother died when she was 11.
Even though I will eventually read about her graduating magna cum laude from college without a high-school diploma or certificate of General Educational Development and her other successes, I can’t help feeling she lives with her past as a big part of her present. And that makes sense, I guess. Most of us carry around a part of our 5-year-old, 10-year-old or 15-year-old selves, don’t we? When I was reading The Glass Castle, though, I felt the author was looking back on a much older story from a different time and place. Brown tells her story with such gusto and bravado that it seems she’s not as far away from her past. Two very different perspectives, yet the authors are about the same age. Maybe the difference is that Brown’s past is a big part of her current life because she uses “all of the years of negative experiences, coupled with the positives, to share with others how — even though it seems impossible — the hopes and dreams of anyone really can come true” to speak to others around the country.
I’d love to hear what Brown is reading, but I understand she’s incredibly busy. Oh, what the heck. I’ll tag some of my favorite authors. Let’s just see if they (or their publishers) ever check their incoming links.
Posted by Becky @ 6:00 am | 3 Comments 
