Mired in waiting

We have a date, we have a destination, we have a rough travel plan.

So, why am I having such a hard time figuring out how to go about moving? We need to schedule everyone and their cousin to get out of here but the thing is, once the movers come we're out of here. However, after they come we have to schedule a final check through, and we may have to do a couple of things more after that to get cleared.

But once your stuff is gone, you can't stay anymore. We have a very definite window during which we have to erase any trace of our lives here from this home (except for normal wear and tear, which can be an awesome sight for a family of 6) and arrive at another place only to become immediately established enough to send two kids to school. For about a week, while our things are in a crate somewhere and we're living out of our van and hotels, we'll be houseless but not homeless and that makes me nervous. It reminds me of the time when I had been mere months out of my parents' house when I was between apartments and relying on the good graces of some kind strangers (it wasn't as bad as it sounds) and I felt ill, not knowing where to lay my head or take off my shoes. During the day I sigh dozens of times over and re-place it all in God's hands. Heh. But if I have to do it over and over again, does that mean I didn't do it right in the first place? I want to have an address, a place to park my vehicle, and a phone number.

So, Man and I will sit down tomorrow with our calendar and make definite enough plans that we can start calling hotels for reservations and hopefully get a bead on where we'd like to live in our new (albeit very temporary) city. We're making some plans like spending enough time in one particular town to take advantage of the outlet malls for school clothes, and getting there with x number of days to spare to find a place before Man has to start his new classes. We can't get the kids registered for school until we know where we're living, and we can't find a place for sure until we're actually over there. Unfortunately, we hear that there's a significant waiting list for decent places to live and we do live on a humble salary, so hotels are something we can only afford for brief periods.

Oh, well. It'll work out. Plan, plan, plan. Ha. I can barely plan how to use the rest of the stuff in my freezer.

The only thing I know for sure that I can get a grip on is sorting through our junk and making sure we aren't dragging dead weight all over the country, especially since we'll be moving once more just a few short months after this coming move. I fear that my nervous energy is turning to nibbling and there are only so many carrots I can convince myself to prudently nosh before my poor, worn out patience demands some dark chocolate. Further more, my internet has been on the blink most of the day so I havn't been able to do any of the research I wanted to do. Before it went out I was able to order Tag another 4 pairs of glasses since the three we purchased just a few months ago are all toast. -sigh- The two weeks until those glasses get here seem like a long time for a boy with a crossed eye.

Anyway, off I go to put another dent in my landslide and another drop in my parched reservoir.

"Look, mom. They don't hurt! Ouch, no they don't hurt. Quick, take the picture! They don't hurt!"

"Hey, I have big rainbow ears!"


Can you guess what Pebbles did while she waited for the rest of us to wake up? What could that stuff be?

Here's another hint.

Good thing she's so cute.


And this is why I don't put her on the floor very much. I put her on a blanket but she's so wiggley that the blanket moves and then one wipe out on the ground leaves her looking like she got into a fight. This particular mark on her face is from falling off the couch. [forehead smack] No more couch. Ever. Until she's 35. Oh, wait, that's dating. Ok, 33.

getting stuck in the drive through

Every time I get fast food I regret it. By the time I had purchased 4 small milkshakes, I had spent enough money in cash, gas, and moments of my life to purchase a tub of ice cream, a bottle of chocolate syrup, and if oil gets any higher I might be able to spring for a blender next time as well.

After Sister in Law came for a visit I did my utmost to keep my home in good shape. After a couple of days it got depressing because constant vigilance just isn't my cup of tea. So, instead of staying home and following people around, getting them to pick up their messes 10 times an hour (per person) I decided to leave the house. I told them that if they were good at both Target and Borders that they would get a surprise. Princess had packed a nice little picnic for us and we were going to end our outing at a park with a snack before going back to business as usual at home.

I guess shakes are far from the cheapest things on the menu nowadays, what with milk, though now less expensive than gas, still rather higher per gallon than I'm happy to pay for. Because, you see, it isn't that milk has become less expensive. It's that gas has done cartwheels, the bunny hop, and a 10 second 100 meter dash past milk in the past year or so. I'm hoping that milk doesn't rouse itself, swallow a popper cocktail, and do its utmost to catch up to its competitor.

Anyway, the kids were pretty good at the stores so that was the surprise I had settled on. I almost immediately regretted it but, even before I had placed my order, was surprised to learn that even if I had the almighty chutzpah to drive away from Burger King after getting in the drive through lane with three kids in the car who know what that ridiculous burger sign means, I wouldn't have been able to. I was surrounded by the building and a 6 foot retaining wall which happened to retain a very steep hill I was sure my silly mini van wouldn't be able to conquer. In front of me was a diesel powered white pickup with both extended cab and and bed, and behind me was a Lincoln Towncar which I surely did not want to pay for if I tried to off road on top of its great, shiny roof. I was trapped. The only things that would have upped the ante would have been a hummer in front and a 'vette behind.

So, what happens if you get into line in the drive through and find that you have no money? Or what if you encounter a sign that says "sorry, no ice cream or shakes" when all you wanted was a shake and nothing else? Do you think that if I was denied a shake I'd settle for fries instead? No sir. Instead, I'd be stuck wasting gas until the pokey lunch line works its way through the two windows and the distracted drivers working on both departing and doling out bags of steamy, greasy food. Tag asked me why we didn't just turn the engine off while waiting in line. Smart kid.

There ought to be some sort of bail out option. They should build mini "off ramps" that let you desert the establishment rather than being forced to merely curse it and bottle thundering road rage which wouldn't even feel good to let loose in such a claustrophobic situation.

Next time, homemade shakes. It's poetry: a jug of chocolate syrup, a tub of ice cream, a book of comics, and thou.

enjoying the doing more than the getting it done

- My sister in law called us up on Monday to ask if we could do lunch on Wednesday. Yeah!! She lives clear across the country and I havn't seen her in a couple of years. It was so fun to sit and visit with her and lunch was all too short.

- Man finally got his orders. We get to go with him! He just has a bit more training before we move on to our next station, which will hopefully be longer term than what we've been experiencing. The very good news: we will be moving before school starts for the kids. Moving is such a pain in the rear, but I'm so happy to have dates and a place in mind.

- I cut my hair. Well, I paid someone to cut my hair. It's medium length again after growing it out pretty much since we moved here. It's light, bouncy, super-uber easy to style (as in, I don't and it still looks somewhat alright), and doesn't break as much when Freida grabs a hank and yanks.

- The two little girls had physicals this week. Freida is 18 pounds (at 6 months) while Pebbles hangs out in the mid 20's. They're on opposite sides of the median on the growth chart but are healthy, happy, and Pebbles will never allow her meager stature to diminish her presence. We measured Princess at home and she's managed to grow three inches in 6 months, for a grand total of 52 inches. Not bad for a 6 year old.

- We took Tag's training wheels off today. He wanted them off but is spooked about riding his bike without them. I took a trip down the street on Man's bike just to show him that it could be done and the saying is true: I hadn't forgotten how to ride one. What I did forget was how much fun it was and now I have a goal for the pennies I've been earning here and there.

- My birthday is coming up soon, which means I have to renew my driver's license and I'll be edging my way toward my late 20's. -sigh- I guess it had to happen some day. Poor Man is edging toward his mid 30's which I guess may be more depressing. For him, not me.

- Once again, I've composed all sorts of blog posts in my brain that disappear with the next spill to pick up or errand to run. Birthday wish list: small notebooks I can put all over my hotspots for quick blogging notes (places where I compose: while trying to go to sleep, in the shower, while changing a diaper, driving, and any time I'm trying to avoid housework. "sorry, can't sweep. must enrich my mind with purposeful internet use rather than aimless internet use. what's the difference? go away kid. you bother me."

Latest easy meal:

1 bag of flash frozen chicken thighs (bone in, it's much cheaper)
1/2 bottle bbq sauce

Dump chicken and bbq sauce into the slow cooker for 8 hours.

Salad: 1/2 head romaine, add about 2 cups of prepared coleslaw veggies. Add either craisins and poppyseed dressing or let people dress their own.

Potato wedges: cut a few potatoes into wedges. Place in either large Ziploc or large Gladlock with olive oil, salt, pepper, paprika, garlic powder. Shake like mad. Place, cut side down, on (shhhh, foil lined) cookie sheet or on your trusty pizza stone. Bake at 350 for half an hour.

Prep time: 15 mins, tops.
Cooking time, all day.
Time from "I'm hungry" until sitting at the table: as long as it takes to get your kids to set the flatware.
Dishes: except for the crockpot, minimal. Soak the crockpot. Or use a liner.

Would you like some rice cereal with that foot?

I've tried lots of different solids options with Miss Freida but she just prefers the gooey slurry of commercial rice cereal. Go figure.

However, she's in the stage now where she wants to participate in this whole feeding thing but she's definitely less than helpful. I like either end of the spectrum: either keep your arms and legs outside your mouth at all times, or go make your own stinking sandwich. I put a spoonful of whatever mush we're working on at the time into her eager mouth, which she prefers with a toe chaser. Sometimes the finger appy doesn't quite cut it, and occasionally she'll prefer more substance than baby goop so she adds a good helping of socked foot. [insert fiber joke here] Of course, once the body part of preference has done its job of enhancing her prandial enjoyment, the food being enhanced is then transferred to other objects which also require embellishment. I can understand how the same car seat for both feedings and outings would get a little boring, but the Wee Mistress needs some lessons in, erm, tasteful decor.

Remember how rice cereal acts as a lovely quick dry cement? Yeah. I just wanted to reiterate that.

She's taken to enjoying putting things into her own mouth which is great because then I can just leave her sitting among a pile of toys while I do something essential and quick, like maybe sneeze, without her feeling totally deprived. On the other hand, I'm worried that she'll be one of those babies who just has to put everything she sees into her mouth. The "see-food diet" becomes the "see-everything diet" but of course a certain measure of caution will prevail after her umpteenth helping of dirt clod, lemon wedge, or maybe mechanical pencil refills. I don't even want to think about the mystery objects little ones find under couches, because then I'd have to clean every crevice and nook in desperate haste. And I'm just not that sort of person.

night owl

Tag decided tonight that he wanted to stay up like mom and dad, so we said sure! Go right on ahead.

We tucked the girls in and Tag was so smug and happy to stay awake. It's always nice after bed time, how quiet it gets. He followed me around as I put dishes away, folded laundry, washed the kitchen floor, and fed Freida some solids. He asked if he could watch a movie and I said no, this is mom and dad quiet time. Man headed to bed pretty early leaving us up to get Freida tucked in and finish folding laundry. Tag couldn't understand why we'd be so boring at night. Where was the music? Where were the mom and dad movies (some of the scarier PG-13 and Man's Kung Fu movies)? Where was the party?

It reminds me of those moments in movies or sitcoms when men start to wonder what's in the ladies' bathroom. Is there scented water? Toilets that sing? Doves that bring us silk hand towels? A lot of the larger bathrooms on post here have sitting areas with couches and large mirrors. It's nice to have a place to nurse a baby if I absolutely can't make it back to my van before the baby implodes from starvation but I try not to make a habit of feeding anyone in a public restroom.

Anyway, Tag's experience with staying up late was rather disappointing. Which is just how we engineered it.

See, we often compete on Dr Mario, or watch a movie I've been putting off until no little eyes are around (we got tired of Princess having nightmares after watching Lord of the Rings), and that's also when we get the better ice cream out. I'm sure that he suspected that all of these things are what we indulge in every night as soon as we close the hall door. And maybe he's right.

But he doesn't need to know that.

By 9pm he was wilting like a spring blossom in the Sahara, begging us to let him go to bed since he was bored out of his mind. I told him that I was going to let him experience the consequence of his decision, and he was allowed to go to bed when I was ready to go to bed. Too bad that I often stay up later than I should, as well, but I can always think of something interesting to do when I don't have 8 arms, 8 legs, 8 eyes, and 4 voices demanding my attention. Sounds like a lot of people when I put it that way, doesn't it? So here I am blogging in a smug more-mature-than-thou-if-thy-pseudonym-be-Tag sort of way and doing the same dumb thing we're trying to discourage him from. The irony is vastly amusing but there are times when being a hypocrite has its rewards. He said that tomorrow he'd be happy to go to bed when his sisters do.

Don't try to kill it unless you can be sure of success

Does that apply to spiders?

I was walking to bed last night, carrying a baby, when I saw a spider that looked like a daddy long legs on 'roids. It was a web builder and it was web building right in the hallway, like it had a death wish. I decided to make good on its death wish and took a swipe at it. It fell to the floor all wushu style (slowly, gracefully, merely touching the wall a few times to glide effortlessly through space) and then scurried away. I tried to track it but it was nowhere to be seen.

Then I wondered if it could smell me, and if it would follow me to my bed where it would bite my nose, or leave a note tacked with webbing on my forehead warning me to never mess with 'roid-ish spiders if I knew what was good for me. What if it was a lazy, wealthy spider that would simply hire little earwig thugs to teach me a lesson? They would saw the head off a cricket and leave it on my pillow to freak me out, a la The Godfather.

I related these musing to Man who gave me what my friend C calls "the [Man] look" which, apparently, Frieda gets on her face quite often. As we chuckled over the whole notion we said good night to each other and I told him to not let the Vengeance Spiders (tm) bite. He laughed and said "no, that would be your problem." I felt a chill come over me but I laughed it off.

And then, as I tried to train my mind into sleep mode, I felt a little itchy all over until I finally drifted off.

I havn't seen Mr. Spidey 'Roid since. Maybe he took my warning to heart and set up shop in a nice compost heap. That'll teach him.

new toy

In exchange for watching her son, a friend presented me with a high whorl drop spindle. That was a "squee" moment for me if ever I've had one. For some reason though, this spindle and the yarn it makes are part vampire. I've had a difficult time getting a picture of either the spindle or the yarn. Oh, well.


This, friends, is way over spun yarn. It's setting after soaking in warm water. I think it'll become a felted hot pad for the lady who brought it over. Because we can never have too many hotpads that smell like sheep. Ha! It's oddly addictive to make this stuff but I can see how it would be tedious to depend on it for all my cloth needs. Some things are better left as hobbies.


I've heard of adding all kinds of fun things into hand spun yarn, like beads, colorful string, easter grass, cotton balls, hair from pets or loved ones (though I have mixed feelings on that one), dried herbs, fishing line, ad infinitum. It'll be fun to see what I can do with this once I get a better idea of what I'm doing.

sigh

Man helped me clean out our storage room. Now we can walk in there!

Just one Thing's room. I could clean this up in less than 5 mins (including changing of linens) but no prizes for guessing how long it takes to get the kid to do it herself. I'm told that some day I'll be grateful that I took the time to be consistent with them.

When I was taking a shower I asked the kids to watch the baby for me. This is how they kept her happy. Yes, that's some homemade chocolate muffin.

And of course Pebbles became curious about the baby's food. I think she started to draw designs in the dust. Did you know that if the floor is humid that this stuff looks like powder until you try to wipe it up? It's like quick dry cement.

This is about 2/3's of the laundry to fold today.


And this isn't helping. But she sure is easy on the eyes.

Wow, it's gone by so fast

Here I sit, thinking of all of the things that have happened in the last couple of weeks. Each time one of them was happening I started to compose a blog post about it in my head but now I can hardly think of a single one.

Here are a few blurbs:

- We had the Army ball on Friday. It was the first time I've been away from Frieda for an extended period since she was born. We left her and two other kids (Princess was at a sleepover) in the kind and tender care of a good friend. I was nervous for his sake but was so relieved to come home and find that they were all good for him. I had an interesting moment at the ball recalling dances of yore. This one was held at a large hotel on one portion of the military grounds and everything was ornate, vaulted-ceilinged, and generally felt out of my league. We had been enjoying cocktail hour (the chatting, not the cocktail), people watching and catching up with a few friends when I was suddenly taken back to my senior prom. I was all dressed up and wildly out of my comfort zone. In the ladies room I felt that old teenaged panic and unease and that sensation of drifting high and away from solid security. Then I remembered who I was attending the dance with, who my dining partners and dear friends were, and my center returned. The walls around me were faux marble, the sinks of faux granite. I was legal drinking age but calmly uninterested in partaking. I had a guaranteed dancing partner who I could kiss in comfort at the end of the evening. And I knew that I had a place there. It was just an interesting moment to recognize where I came from and how far away that is now.

- Miss Frieda has cut her first tooth. Say it with me: AAAAACK! My youngest, last baby has a tooth. Ok, so it's not a tooth yet but a tiny little saw blade that she cheerfully and voraciously employs on every surface she can grab and stuff in her little maw, but it'll be a tooth some day. There are no signs of its companion but more will surely follow soon. She spins on her stomach, scoots backward, sits like a pro and can even occasionally recover from falling backward if the boppy is behind her. She also eats solids at such a rate that I'm sure she would get by with nursing only before naps but I'm not ready for her to take it to that level yet. Soon. Just another few months. -sigh- It's going by so quickly.

- Yet another dear friend will be leaving me soon, followed shortly by another dear friend. I don't know what I'm going to do. Hopefully we'll be out of here soon and I can just move on from this place where so many people I've grown to love have left. I know that this is a huge part of this new life style but I think I'm emotionally done with this place now. I've been parted from enough friends for a while. Time to move on. I don't know when that'll happen. We're still in limbo and could move in 3 weeks, or 8 months, or any time in between. We're cleaning the house out like we're leaving soon but making dr's appointments and preparing to enroll two kids in school in the fall like we're staying. It's so nice to purge the old and breathe in our new elbow room.

- A friend and I went to World Wide Knit in Public Day (WWKIPD) and enjoyed it tremendously. It was fun to visit with ladies who are old hat at knitting and observe demonstrations on felting, cabling, and drop spindle spinning. My interest in drop spindle spinning has been reignited now that I've actually seen how easy it is. Time to get those old cd's out, make one, and give it a try. I think I'm finally comfortable with the correct way to knit now, after four different people trying to show me how. Ha! Same story with crochet.

- Muffin combos tried: apple cinnamon with caramel sauce drizzled on top; dried fruit, fresh ground nutmeg, orange peel, and a crumble on top made of brown sugar, butter, and ground almonds (tres yum); chocolate, chocolate chip; and cherry almond, which mysteriously turned the batter an odd green color. We havn't had a truly horrible combo yet but I'm sure I'll get around to it.

Anyway, that was a lot of rambling. I'll have to carry a little notebook with me so I can bring some more coherent ideas to my keyboard next time. If you've made it through this far give yourself a nice hooah, Army style (top of your lungs in your lower register).