Our Kantola Family Story

2012-02-12T14:58:00.000-08:00

I am sitting here at my computer, quite composed actually, sipping tea and getting a little thrill at the thought of actually posting a blog post after what’s been a very long (dare I even count the months) dry spell.

I am remarkably composed, especially in the face of the huge influx of busy-ness and change that looms a mere few days away. My composure could, I supposed, be termed as repression. Or perhaps denial. But either way, I am – as I told a dear friend just this afternoon – feeling remarkably, strangely zen.

You see, on Monday – this Monday – after I pick Siennalee up from preschool, she and I (and Gunther the cat) will squeeze into the packed Acadia and will make the trip up to Albany to stay for the duration of my pregnancy. Jason will join us the weekend before our sweet baby is born via scheduled c-section on Monday, March 12^th.

Our temporary move back home to the Willamette Valley allows Baby Girl to be delivered by my own doctor at Sacred Heart Hospital in Springfield. It also, of course, allows us to be near family and close friends while I recuperate from surgery - which is a very nice place to be, especially when living in a new place farther away from said family and friends.

Planning and packing for weeks away from our home here in Klamath Falls has certainly taken over most of my regular routine. (But seeing as how my routine has become a slave to my rapidly changing body, sleeping/eating habits, and energy levels anyway, it hasn’t seemed like too much of an ordeal.) I have still managed to the make the most of the opportunities for friend outings and visits that have come my way – much to my happiness! The joys of making good, kindred friendships here in Lands Unknown have been very welcome and make my eventual return something to look forward to, rather than something to dread.

And so, since I’ve been regrettably absent from my dear little blog, I’ll leave you with a photo of the latest and greatest creative project – yes, already in progress – that has taken up the majority of my months of blog-silence (photo courtesy of my lovely sister-in-law Anne, or course).

Sweet Saturday Mornings

2011-10-22T13:51:00.000-07:00

Siennalee is at her easel, thinking the deep thoughts of artists. "Daddy! I need you to come hold this flower."

Daddy is on the couch, contentedly watching football. "Why?"

"Because I want to draw a picture of you."

It's said so sweetly, both parents let out an "awww," and Jason is off the couch in a blink while I grab my camera. It has, after all, been a while since I've blogged. And I do so love to capture these sweet moments.

(Photographer's note: Please enjoy the typical-Saturday-ness props in the background. They are there purely for this Saturday Morning Photo Shoot. Why yes, yes I am crossing my fingers behind my back...)

Daddy's always a good subject. Aside from his Boy Hair and beard.

The artist and her creation.

"I don't really know how to do BOY hair," the artist confessed.

The artist posing with her subject.

Then the subject and artist then had to trade places. (I love the look on her face.)

Not sure if the original subject's creation was what the original artist envisioned, but the photographer sure enjoyed it all.

CSA, I think I love you.

2011-08-26T14:23:00.000-07:00

Yesterday Siennalee and I picked up our very first box of produce from our very first CSA subscription.

But let me back up a moment.

CSA, for those who don't yet know, stands for Community Supported Agriculture and basically it's when a local farm offers "subscriptions" to its produce. For a set period of time, once a week you receive a box of whatever produce they happen to be harvesting that week. This is a great way to support your local farmers and a fabulous way to get fresh, local, and often-times organic produce to your family. And hey, if I can avoid a trip to the grocery store - I'm pretty jazzed.

I became very interested in CSAs after reading The Dirty Life by Kristin Kimball (I highly recommend it) and since we are currently living in our little townhouse in Klamath Falls - and without my glorious raised garden bed back in Albany - a CSA seemed like just the thing for us. I researched the area and after having a very disappointing experience with one local grower, I discovered Staunton Family Farm.

Staunton Family Farm is just outside Tulelake, CA, which is about 30 minutes from Klamath Falls. They have quite a few pick-up places in K Falls and once you designate your chosen pick-up spot, you visit each Thursday to get your little box of veggie-heaven. We have been traveling quite a bit this summer, so signing on for all the cycles didn't make much sense, but I was able to get us signed up for the latter two cycles (8 weeks) of late summer/early fall.

This was my very first experience with a CSA (aside from my rather disappointing phone conversation with the other grower which really shouldn't even count) and I must say it was a pleasure! Siennalee and I located our designated pick-up spot, a local church, followed the Staunton Family Farm signs into the church basement and there were greeted by three very friendly young ladies. Behind them was a horseshoe configuration of three long tables all laden with produce.

As it was my first time picking up a CSA box, one of the gals showed me that one side of the horseshoe was for the half-boxes (which we had requested) and the other side for whole boxes. She walked along with me and pointed out each different vegetable (all ready for you in bunches or baggies) and even gave me tips on how to prepare them - like fava beans. She also suggested simple recipes for the odd items such as beets and pointed out the bin where you "donate" whatever veggie you're not interested in and then the other subscribers are able to take extra from the bin if they like. I added my spinach and took an extra bag of salad greens from the bin. :)

Siennalee was quite pleased to be able to pick out a small bouquet of Zinnias and shyly said thank you to the friendly trio. What a lovely experience! But even better was when we got home.

Behold. The CSA box.

I just get giddy every time I see this.

Siennalee picked out the bouquet with the most red flowers. Of course. She also gave one to the little neighbor girl. Not a red one though. ;)

These carrots are so sweet! They were perfect in the big salad I made as soon as I got the box home.

Lovely beets!

I wasn't sure about taking the beets until the gal walking with me told me how to blanch and peel them, then saute them up a bit with some EVOO and a sweet Walla-Walla onion, then add balsamic vinegar and goat cheese. Well, I have to say I haven't been feeling so hot lately, so a lot of my favorite foods have been ignored - but in my normal state I absolutely LOVE goat cheese, sweet Walla-Walla's, and balsamic vinegar (all together or by themselves - no matter), and since I anticipate at some point having my normal state of taste returned to me, I took the beets on in good faith.

A zucchini by any other name... is pretty much the same. :)

This lil guy's name I completely spaced, but it's a type of zucchini and it's grown a lot in France. I took him because I thought he was cute.

Staunton Family Farm includes a newsletter each week with a brief note to members, a list of the current offerings, and recipes. The girls were quick to tell me that this was a fun newsletter and not typical. I wondered at this a bit until I got it home and saw the extra humor peppered through it.

Classic.

Very cute.

This week's offerings were: lettuce salad greens, spinach, beets, carrots, green onions, zucchini, varied squashes, snap peas, snow peas, a sampling of cherry tomatoes, wax and string beans, baby potatoes, basil, and parsley. Perfect.

Today I pulled up my big girl boots and ventured into the kitchen (a place that has not been my favorite haunt lately) to make some late-summer vegetable soup with a good portion of the vegetable selection from the box.

One of my favorite recipes - and freezes beautifully too for those winter days when you miss the flavor of late summer.

Sorry Jason, there may not be enough left for dinner.

I'm already looking forward to next Thursday!

8 Years and Going Strong

2011-08-09T06:00:00.000-07:00

It's been 8 years now from this amazing life moment.

I've gone from looking like this:

to this:

And yet somehow, life and love have only just gotten better.

From our first date,

to our first child,

and all the wondrously precious moments in between,

it's been an awesome, inspiring, heart-stopping, breath-taking, beautiful and heartbreaking, miraculous, surprising, enchanting and enthralling, lovely, lovely journey.

And I'm so glad you asked me along.

I love you Jason.

Oh I Love Him

2011-08-02T17:34:00.000-07:00

There you are standing strong,
I'm a leaf holding on
You believe like a child,
In this fire runnin' wild
Oh I love how you see
Right to the heart of me

You're a waterfall, washing over me
I'm a thirsty man let me drink you in
Well I am on my way,
You're a mountain top
When I reach for you, your love lifts me up
All that I want is to be
Where you are

I'm the frozen ground, you're the warm sunlight
Shining down on me, baby just in time
Well I have never been in a love like this
Oh, you move my soul every time we kiss
And I love how you heal;
I can't believe how alive I feel

Where You Are, Rascal Flatts

A Peek into My July

2011-07-27T11:21:00.000-07:00

Whew. That was a rather long dry spell from me in the bloggery, wasn't it? I've been traveling a bit and have also been quite busy with several kinds of creative projects - some I can share about, some I must wait to share - but in an attempt to break the dry spell of posts here, I'm going to combine a "whatchya doooin'" post with a "here's one of my creative projects that have kept me busy and therefore not blogging."

Sooo, without any further ado:

This past weekend had Jason traveling up to Washington for his Navy Reserve Drill Weekend. My mom was sweet enough to keep Siennalee at her house so everybody could have a special weekend away. It was one long drive from Klamath Falls, Oregon up to DuPont, Washington - with a brief stop in Albany to toss the kid and her stuff from the car and then drive away in a cloud of screeching, burned-out tires.

One of the benefits of Jason's continued service in the US Navy Reserve is that he often travels and occasionally I travel with him. One of my very favorite Navy Reserve travel destinations is Washington, because when I get to go with him, I get to see Anna and Efiz.

Anna and Efiz live just outside Seattle and have been my friends for a very long time - well, Anna came first and then she brought Efiz in later. :) Anna and I have been friends since we were barely 4 years old. We were besties all through our school years and even now, despite the fact that we don't get to see each other as often as we'd like, the closeness is still right there.

I cajoled Anna into picking me up at the hotel Jason and I were staying at and then taking me home with her so I could then plant on her couch for the entire day Saturday. I even maneuvered Jason and me in for dinner. I'm clever that way.

I was especially looking forward to this trip because it meant I was going to get to meet someone very special for the very first time: Anna and Efiz's son Benjamin. I'd "met" him when he was a bump in Anna's belly, but that's nowhere near as personal as getting to see his little personality bloom and hear his giggles. And I got to do all that on Saturday. Oh and hey, look at that - I'd brought my camera along and snuck in some kiddo and family shots.

(Enter the creative portion of our blog post.)

Anna and Benjamin admiring the wind chimes.

I super heart this face. Seriously, cute doesn't get much cuter than Benjamin.

Oh wait! It's a tie! The cuteness! The cuteness is overpowering!

I just love candid moments of a happy family.

And just look at Benjamin's face here. Adorable little flirt!

This one is probably my favorite: there's nothing like seeing pure joy on the face of your bosom friend. And I love how Efiz is looking at her. The perfect snapshot of a sweet little family.

Thousand Words Wednesday: Plotting.

2011-07-20T08:25:00.000-07:00

The Grill Master

2011-07-15T14:57:00.000-07:00

When Jason and I got married, Jason - being older (for those of you who might not know, we were not the teen bride and groom) - came with a certain number of very desirable household goods which I termed "bachelor accessories." Kind of like Bachelor Naval Officer Ken. So not only did I get a great deal on a guy, but I got a fabulous leather couch and overstuffed chair, coffee table and end table, armoire, and basically an entire household. Some stuff had to go, like his apple patterned Corelle dishes, but most everything else was exactly what I might've have chosen myself, so it stayed. But there was one - one very special item that Jason came with that I would grow to love almost as much as him.

The Weber Grill.

I had been made aware of the Weber Grill on countless occasions as Jason related his latest grilling feats to me in a boyish exuberance. Never having been around a propane grill, I was at first quite afraid of it. I mean, the thing can go POOF. FLAMES. HEAT. POOF! Slowly I grew to be comfortable around The Grill until several years later, I myself was out grilling even when Jason wouldn't be home for dinner.

So, fast forward several more years and we now find The Grill to be getting along in years. It's time for a new one. When we moved our household down to Klamath Falls, we left The Grill for my mom - it still works beautifully, but the paint is starting to peel and, well, we're outgrowing it.

Our time without The Grill has been kinda sad. There's nothing like grilling, you know. Food and fire were made to go together. So we waited and waited, and then we felt the time was right.

The time for A New Grill was upon us.

Of course, we went with Weber. It would have felt traitorous to stray.

Jason undertook the overwhelming job of actually putting the thing together.

Little known fact: The Grill box can actually be *more* fun than The Grill itself.

(Especially when you're 4 and 3/4 years old.)

Our new beauty.

Our first meal on the grill was a thing of beauty. Kabobs. I think kabobs are quite possibly the world's most perfect meal.

I rejoiced at watching Jason back at The Grill. He really is amazing.

To reiterate: kabobs, perfection, amazing Grill Master of a husband.

Poetry on a bamboo skewer. Go ahead. Shed a tear. I might join you.

We are so happy to have The (New) Grill back in our household. Somehow, the world is right again.

Thousand Words Wednesday: The BIG Wishes

2011-07-06T14:12:00.000-07:00

Thousand Words Wednesday: Wishing You Summer Joy

2011-06-29T08:00:00.000-07:00

"Just Moms" Reading at Frogs & Pollywogs

2011-06-27T08:00:00.000-07:00

My very first book reading! What joy! I am so blessed and honored to be counted among such lovely ladies and fabulous authors.

The reading was hosted by Frogs & Pollywogs in Albany, Oregon. Frogs and Pollywogs is a wondrous little specialty toy store that delights both parents and kiddos alike.

I promise you - you will love wandering down the aisles of this sweet store!

Our reading was in "The Lily Pad" which is a loft area upstairs stocked generously with the specialty toys found for sale downstairs, but opened and waiting for kiddos to come play!

And play they did.

Several of us brought our kidlets with and I imagine they had as good a time as we did!

Two of Jen Rouse's girls, Beth & Lucy

My Sweetheart and one of Cassie's girls, Desiree

One of Melanie's sons perusing the books and Lucy and Siennalee working at the work bench.

Dorcas Smucker kicked things off by reading a her chapter "Wealth Isn't in the Crayons" and then I was next with a summary of mine: "Choose to Be."

Rebekah was next with hers: "Superhero Jesus" and Jen finished up with a tidbit of her story "Precious in God's Sight" and then a summary of a couple of her favorite chapters.

It was priceless to dialog with these ladies, to hear their takes on their favorite chapters, and to hear - once again - how very important we (and all) mommies are to each other.

We even had groupies there. :) Carlie Davis and Cassie Wicks drove up from Junction City just for our reading. I was quite giddy to have friends there from my home church Christ's Center. Kristin and Hannah, friends from my Covallis MOPS group (who also hail from Jen and Rebekah's church Grace City - Hannah is the pastor's wife), came as well.
Kristin's the head groupie.

Word is she even got a "Just Moms" tattoo. (But you didn't read that on MY blog...)

Top to bottom, clockwise: Carlie, Cassie, Hannah, and Kristin

Our youngest fan - Evie, Jen's youngest

And here are the two ladies who made it all happen: Melanie Springer Mock and Rebekah Schneiter:

And the local writers who attended the reading:

Left to right: Jen Rouse, Melanie Springer Mock, Dorcas Smucker, Rebekah Schneiter, and Jessica Kantola

And just to prove Just Moms isn't just for moms:

My wonderful (and hot) husband Jason also attended the reading. He drove us up to Albany from Klamath Falls, listened to all of us ladies read and chatter, entertained and wrangled kidlets at large, and then drove us home again. You're my hero, Love.

What a great day. Fabulous job, everyone! Thank you for all being part of such a rich memory.

Bad Lady

2011-06-21T13:53:00.000-07:00

That's it. I've had it. I clean and reorganize and put away, repeat, and repeat again, and still - every single day following quiet time - the room in its toy entirety has turned into some kind of a mishmash between a crazed Pre-K fire sale and a (toy) Woodstock.

And it doesn't get put back - none of it. Forget being put back even a little bit similar to the way it was found - no, it doesn't get put back at all. Not at all. Okay, if I stand there and become a skirted drill sergeant, then some of the toys might get put away. Sort of. But there's always too much yelling. And too many tears. And - we're one step closer to the neighbors calling social services. (Okay, I'm joking about that last part. Sort of.)

So today I had it.

I picked up the toys myself.

But instead of putting them carefully back in the closet, in an only-the-way-a-mommy-will organized manner, in a way easiest to be taken out by sweet small hands and happily played with, I wickedly put the toys away in MY room. (At this time, I won't go into how there really is no room at all in MY room for any kind of extra anything. Because I've had it. So into my room they go. Like a strange assortment of adorable refugees.)

At first, Siennalee is wearing a small, happy smile. Mommy is cleaning for her! She won't have to pick up her awful mess after all. Victory. Then the awful truth dawns on her - assisted by me pointing out the details to the obvious, of course - the toys are not going to be accessible to her. Not for a long while.

Her little brow furrows and she continues - painstakingly, infinitesimally - with her own little chore of re-folding (I'm inserting an expressive cough here) and putting away the clothes she has yanked out of her drawers, tried on, and discarded in a messy piles around the room.

"Mommie," she finally says to me, heavily, "you shouldn't take away my toys like this. It- it feels like you are a bad lady."

A poignant and mother-daughter-dramatic moment hushes over us both.

Now, the "bad guy" and the "bad lady" really are key players in our little world right now. Siennalee is beginning to understand that not everyone in the big world around us is loving and kind and keeps the best intentions at heart. She has been very impacted by the mere idea of the bad guy. Sometimes she opts out of watching a show that might give too much attention to the bad guy. But me, Mommie? A bad lady? Well, yeah, I guess so. The villains on her kiddo shows are always doing dastardly deeds like pilfering toys and pocketing fluffy puppies.

And now, Mommy is doing the same thing.

So when her little brow furrows now, I can tell she's really feeling this, not just saying it as any kind of jab or to get a reaction.

"A bad lady?" I prod.

"Yes, a bad lady. And," she adds, now with more feeling, "it's not fair."

I look down at her. She looks back up at me with the quizzical, contemplative look of a four-year-old really thinking life out.

Not only am I a Bad Lady. But it's not fair.

I choke back the laugh elbowing its way out of my throat and I lean down to the same level as her little face - "It's not fair?"

"No. It's not fair."

"Do you think, Sweetheart, that it's fair for a mommy to work very hard all day to take care of her sweetheart, to feed her and play with her sweetheart, then to have to spend the rest of the day again cleaning up all the toys that her sweetheart played with - not the mommy played with - that the sweetheart played with and junked?"

She became thoughtful, "No." Then she added, "but you still shouldn't take away my toys."

So hello, era of "Not Fair." I, the Bad Lady, will see your bet - and raise you a pile of unorganized toys.

Update: the toys and some books are still refugees in my room (aka, the Motherland), but they now have hope of returning to the homeland (aka, the Sweetheartland). Siennalee is slowly "earning" the right to free a toy by doing small "clean-up" tasks through the day. And just this morning, she cleaned up several puzzles - a daunting task - all by herself and thus earned back two toys to keep her company during today's quiet time. As I type this, I have yet to again be referred to as a Bad Lady, but Siennalee did find my sketch above to be quite apropos.

A Very Happy First Day of Summer to You!

2011-06-21T08:00:00.000-07:00

Father's Day

2011-06-16T10:23:00.000-07:00

Happy Father's Day

to the very best daddy I could have ever hoped to have for my children.

Thank you for working so hard for us. Even when you'd rather be home.
Even when you'd rather be sleeping.

Thank you for providing so excellently for us, so I can stay home with our sweet daughter, so we can (unintentionally) manage two residences, so life can be richer and fuller than I ever thought it could be.

Thank you for loving your family so completely, so deeply, so powerfully that you continually choose
to set yourself aside
and focus on us.

Thank you for making the hard choices
- even without really knowing that you are -
those choices that so many other men cannot or will not
choose to make.

Thank you for being such a beautiful reflection of God and his perfect Father's Heart to our little girl.

Thank you for being that man, that wonderful, hero of a man that I prayed for so long ago.

We love you, Jason. Happy Father's Day!

Published.

2011-06-13T11:12:00.000-07:00

Well, I have to say this whole post has been a long time coming.

And I don't just mean a long time from when I was a very little girl, still mastering how to hold a pencil (I still do this wrong) and scribbling away in notebooks, on papers, on napkins, and anything smooth and still enough to hold the words and ideas and pictures zinging around in my head (still do this).

No, I mean this post has been a long time coming because the actual event happened several months ago,

and I've been keeping it quiet.

But now, the time has come for me to - actually, the time has now passed and I'm a little late (thanks to an early summer family vacation, among other things) -

but

the time has now come for me to finally be able to say:

I've been published.

Sometime last year, my good friend Rebekah approached me about submitting an essay for an anthology she and her former professor Melanie Springer Mock were putting together. (An anthology is a collection of selected literary pieces or passages or works of art or music - thank you Merriam-Webster.) This idea had been some time in the making as Rebekah and Melanie chatted, mulled, and finally birthed the idea through countless conversations followed by countless hours of compilation, author recruiting, publisher/manuscript shopping, and editing.

I liked the book idea, but I really didn't want to submit anything. It was a dark time for me personally and Rebekah had asked me to submit an essay on "contentment." I waited and waited until the very last minute, and then scribbled something out - something raw and bloody and utterly unsatisfying. And then I sent that to my friend. Oh well, I thought, at least I followed up on her request. We went through the editing process - which in hindsight was great experience, albeit a bit painful in points - and then I discovered I'd made the cut.

Incredibly (and against all odds, at least in my mind) - I was in the book.

Just Moms: Conveying Justice in an Unjust World

Our book: Just Moms

Re-reading what I wrote, from a new place in life as well as from a renewed perspective, it's not nearly the awful piece I was afraid I'd put together. I wrote about contentment, yes, but also the principles which I believe are laying quietly just beneath contentment, the main one being: choice. My chapter "Choose to Be" honors my mother, who taught me that happiness is a choice, not just a feeling. It also touches on my hopes and endeavors to teach this principle to my own daughter. (I kept the news of the book as quiet as I could until I could give the book to my mother as a surprise Mother's Day gift.)

The rest of the book is a compilation of writings from women, and not all moms either, who share their varied stories of teaching and learning, retooling ideas and scrapping ideals, and above all how being a mom isn't always what it had looked like on paper.

I encourage you to pick up a copy, read it, and leave a review on Amazon.com.

And below, just for fun, is a shot of me and my two dear friends (and also two of the contributing authors in Just Moms), Jen and Rebekah. This picture is from the story our local (Albany) paper did on us as local authors.

Jessica Kantola, Jen Rouse, and Rebekah Schneiter (co-editor), contributing authors in Just Moms (Photograph from the Democrat Herald)

Jen and Rebekah also happen to comprise my writing critique group. We meet every month or two and share submissions of what we're up to in our literary lives. These women have taught me so much. I'm very blessed to have them in my life.

Thank you, Rebekah, for befriending me, encouraging me, and getting me to write that dang essay. I love you for it!

Published! My toes are wet. Time for the rest of me to jump in.

The Greencloset: Confessions of a Townhouse Dirtoholic

2011-05-15T13:28:00.000-07:00

The weather continues to change in our high deserty-mountain world and suddenly I'm no longer as satisfied to only live vicariously through friends and family kind enough to post (on blogs and Facebook) pictures and detailed descriptions of their yards and gardens over which I hungrily pore again and again.

How's that for a dramatic, run-on opener?

Hello, my name is Jessica, and I'm a dirtoholic. I need it. I need it under my nails and against my skin, in my hair and around my knees. I am compelled to dig in it and inhale its pungenty-sweet, rich scent. I admire newly turned sod like I would admire a bouquet of fresh flowers. I inhale the scent of fertilizer like a fine French perfume. I require dirt. With a primal, demanding, instinctive requirement. And I require it now.

However, there are new obstacles to me indulging my dirtoholism. I am currently living in a new and unknown environment where the daily spring temperatures can flirt with the 70's and then nightly temperatures will dip a toe down into the upper 20's. And wacky temperatures aside, the Townhouse's cute little cement patio does not afford me much - okay, ANY dirt. Therefore, I must become creative and open to new and previously unknown ideas.

So, temperature and dirt being my main issues/obstacles:

I bought a greenhouse.

The Sweetheart and I (okay, mostly I) made it our project for our little Girls' Weekend while Jason was away on Navy work.

Inspection by Sweetheart is a must.

It's less of a greenhouse, and more of a greencloset really. But I think it'll get the job done.

The inaugural occupants for the greencloset are the herbs I've been so desperately missing since we moved away from those beautiful, mature plants growing happily at Albany House.

Left to right: sage, rosemary, German thyme, basil - and the two little guys in front are more basil

Here is the basil before I transplanted it. I just love the cute little chubby faces of baby basil.

And here's another cute little face. I think I was born to raise little things. I love them so.

The greencloset made and the baby plants transplanted, I tucked them all in.

Soon we will add some seedling trays to the mix and the little greencloset will become quite cozy in the colder evenings.

Goodnight little plants! I hope you sleep warmly enough.

I set up the greencloset on the other side of the glass sliding patio doors that open out of my little kitchen. I'm hoping any warmth escaping through the glass will help out the greencloset.

The placing works well for our little patio and also looks quite nice from my kitchen. I can look out the patio doors and see my herbs growing and - hopefully - happy.

Just like me.

Thousand Words Wednesday: Kitty-cat or Hood Ornament? Discuss.

2011-05-11T09:34:00.000-07:00

Crushing the Serpent's Head

2011-05-06T10:55:00.000-07:00

When I found out the squirmy little kicker I was carrying in my belly was a girl, and not the boy I'd (for whatever reason) anticipated, I was shocked. Okay, not so much shocked as unidentifiably anxious. And this was disquieting. I’d very much looked forward to having my first baby, boy or girl. So why this strange anxiety? Was I that disappointed to not have a boy?  

I dealt with the odd feelings quietly, feeling a bit like I was betraying some sacred maternal trust. Hoping the tiny she-person in my tummy couldn’t feel my conflicting emotions. Doing my best to make sure nobody sniffed out what felt like a deep, dark secret.

And then things slowly began to lighten, the shadows of unidentified emotions melted away, and I began to understand what was happening inside me.

For the known generations past, the fathers of my father's line have abandoned their children and their wives and gone on to pursue whatever pull was strongest. I guess my own father just expected that was the way it would all eventually go down. He didn’t put up much of a fight. My mother knew life could be different. She knew the power of just making a choice - and she fought her hardest to keep him with us - but in the end, she had to let him go. And thus I gained the dubious notoriety of being one more of the daughters from my father's line who have been left fatherless.

And here I was, the fatherless daughter, having a daughter.

I had one of those life moments, earlier in life, when my brother Paul and his wife were having their first little girl. I’ll tear up every time I think back to that first moment of understanding; when I realized that Paul, my dear little brother, would be the first to break our family’s fatherless cycle; the first to crush the serpent of destruction and abandonment that so long has stalked our family line.

And the light in my understanding grew brighter: suddenly it was my turn.

Thankfully, not too long before I met Jason, I'd discarded my own romantic choices and with heartfelt honestly asked God to assist me with choosing a husband. Faithfully, God listened and along with other wonderful male friendships, into my life came Jason. Steady, sure, strong Jason who never, ever backs down from the tough slopes of life. And behind him a family dedicated to God and each other. I knew I'd found the father for my yet-to-be children.  

So here we are, four-plus years later. My little daughter is growing and blossoming. She will never know the long, painful hours of waiting endlessly and in vain for a daddy to come home - or even just to visit. She won't ever taste the breaking disappointment of realizing there are things more beloved, more important than her precious little self. She'll only know the secure love and embrace of a family with roots deep in God's all-encompassing love and power of redemption.

And as each year passes, I feel my heel grind down upon the serpent's head.

A New Era

2011-05-03T16:04:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, we officially turned over a new leaf for our little family. Bicycles. We started the whole journey on Siennalee's 4th birthday when she got her very first Trek bike, a little pink and white number complete with training wheels and ribbons - and a girly basket, of course. But let me back up.

Once upon a time, Bachelor Jason had way too much money on his hands and bought one of the nicest bikes on the whole dang planet. A Trek. And it was spanky. Fast-forward to Bachelor Jason meeting and falling in love with Nearly-Spinster Jessica, and the Trek story takes a dark turn. Newlywed Jason moves up to Oregon to attend the University of Oregon's MBA program and, unbeknownst to him, settles down smack in the middle of Bicycle Theft Capital, USA. On the first day of school, the Trek is discovered - in the apartment complex's not-so-secure bicycle barn - totally stripped. Undeterred, Jason re-outfits the bike and spends the next two years faithfully riding - through rain and, well, rain - to classes. Then, at the end of the MBA program, very close to graduation, the bike - in its spanky entirety - disappears. And that, my friends, is how the small Eugene Kantola clan donated way too much money to the Eugene Bicycle Theft Madness.

Fast forward to happier times, as Jason has moved his little clan to Klamath Falls, Oregon. Hike and bike trails abound. Work is a tantalizing 5.5 miles away. Bicycle dreams once again began dancing in his head. And so we ventured to Medford, to pay a visit to Rogue Valley Cycle Sports. There we outfitted both Jason and Jessica with road bikes, also adding a small trailer bike for the Sweetheart who cannot yet ride so well on her own (and also keep up with us).

We took the bikes out the very next day for their maiden voyage. And it was heaven. We rode down a good portion of the paved part of the OC&E Trail that runs though Klamath Falls (fantastic bike and hike route!). Siennalee did wonderfully on her little trailer bike which we attached to my bike. She pedaled faithfully and kept up a steady stream of chatter as we passed fields and cows and many birds out enjoying the evening bugs. I told Jason it was the most I've enjoyed exercise since playing volleyball in high school.

It was a little nerve-wracking to get back on the "horse" - and by "horse" I mean super light road bike with 45 pounds of excited and unbalanced Sweetheart trailing behind.

My goodness we're cute.

I just love my Sweetheart's little face here. She's making me laugh as I'm riding.

Of course, since we learned the hard lesson of living in Eugene - that sometimes, sometimes people may feel entitled to a bicycle that is not their own - our bicycles are now our roommates in our sweet little townhouse. Jason did a great job clearing out our downstairs hall closet (aka, the Garage) and while we're still quite cozy, we are also quite content. New eras are good. Life is good.

Faithful

2011-04-19T11:52:00.000-07:00

Despite chilly mornings and stubborn snow flurries,

spring is stirring.

You have been more faithful than the changing of seasons

~Skillet

A Taste of an Epicurean Tour

2011-04-13T15:27:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks ago I was privileged to take part in something so unique and special it had to be for a very special occasion. And it was. For my sister-in-law Anne's 30th birthday, she announced to her husband, my brother Paul, that in lieu of any kind of present, she wanted to go on an Epicurean Excursion with Portland Walking Tours. So Paul, Anne, my mom, Jason, and I got all gussied up and headed up to Portland to do a tour of all things Epicurean.

Anne and I both photog'd it up throughout the entire tour and since it was Anne's birthday, I was gracious (and bit the blogging bullet) and allowed her to be the primary blogger of our excursion. (And that is my gift to you, sis.) If you, dear reader, are like us and crave details and unique experiences, you can visit Anne's fabulous posts here (part 1) and here (part 2).

For my own post about our tour, I thought I'd focus on one of the highlight tastings of the trip: the Flying Elephant Delicatessen.

Now, Flying Elephant Delicatessen is pretty much your standard delicatessen experience (which I happen to very much enjoy). We shuffled in with our tour group, stood in line, and were given a sample of a unnamed soup which we then shuffled back out into the chilly Oregon sunlight to enjoy.

Now, our guide was smart. He first had us taste the soup, then advise him what flavors we found. Well, tomato was obvious. Cream, onion, thyme... but the texture was different. He had us guess as to what it was - what other flavor was in there, subtly brightening up the tomato. "Orange," alerted a fellow tour-goer. "Orange!" Our guide bellowed out, gleefully, "Welcome to the Flying Elephant's famous tomato orange soup."

It was lovely.

The recipe is so popular, our guide went on to explain, that the deli - tired of being hounded for it - released it to the public.

So when we got home, Anne located the recipe. And so, I pass the tomato orange loveliness on to you.

This little Cuisinart guy isn't a standard part of the recipe, but I wanted to show him off anyway. My immersion blender. Best birthday gift ever. Makes shakes and smoothies in glasses, purees soups in pans, does most of your federal income tax return (as long as you don't have too many deductions). It's amazing.

So you toss the soup stuff together, puree it, and then get to the most important element of Elephant Tomato Orange Soup. (It is not, curiously, elephant.)

Behold. The orange.

I bought a nicely priced bag of oranges and squeezed them the old fashioned way (which is - halved, then forked). I discovered that if I microwaved an orange for about 10 seconds (yes, I risked an orangey, pulpy explosion, I know - it's just how I roll), the juice came out even easier.

I then added my freshly-squeezed orange juice to the delicious tomato-y concoction bubbling happily on my stove.

I allowed it to cook up a bit, added some cream and... wait for it... waaait for iiit...

And my - oh my, do we have one delicious bowl of tomato orange goodness.

Look at the texture in the bowl below. It's simply beautiful to look at and even more beautiful to eat. I just love the bright tomato flavor. It's marvelous.

Now listen, I understand that parts of this recipe - firstly the word "elephant" as a recipe descriptor - but namely "orange" can be a little off-putting for people who aren't too adventurous in their food involvements. But I guarantee you this is a fabulous soup to try. I'm so happy that our guide had us taste our way through this soup - I might have also turned up my nose at the words "elephant tomato orange" before the word soup. But since I let go and opened my foodie mind a bit, I was rewarded with this new personal and family favorite (the Sweetheart heartily enjoyed several bowls).

Another odd ingredient in this soup is baking soda. Do not leave this out. The addition of the baking soda cuts the acidity in the soup, which creates a friendlier environment for the cream - in other words. the baking soda makes it so the cream does not curdle in the high acidity of the soup.

Do yourself a favor - a unique, bright, and tasty favor - and make this soup. It's perfect for spring (and summer) and so very lovely to eat.

* * *

Elephant Tomato Orange Soup

1/2 cup unsalted butter (1 stick)
1/2 medium onion, diced
2 (14 1/2 ounce) cans diced tomatoes
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon cracked black pepper
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1 cup fresh orange juice
1/4 - 1/2 cup heavy cream (optional)

In a saucepan, melt butter; add onion and saute until translucent. Add tomatoes, salt, pepper, baking soda and thyme. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer uncovered about 15 minutes or until slightly thickened.
Puree in a food processor or blender (or with an immersion blender!).
Return to saucepan and stir in orange juice. At this point, the soup can be refrigerated until ready to serve.
At serving time, add the cream and heat gently, stirring constantly, bringing to a simmer and adjust seasonings if necessary. Extra cream maybe drizzled on top of the soup immediately before serving for decorative effect.

*I doubled the above recipe for my family of 3 and had enough for leftovers over the next couple days.

Klamath Falls Children's Museum

2011-04-08T13:55:00.000-07:00

The other day the Sweetheart and I were introduced to another of the little gems the city of Klamath Falls has to offer: The Children's Museum.

We met friends there, among whom were Mr. C and Miss L. Aren't they adorable?

Upon entering the Children's Museum, we noticed several things right off: the place offered fun - fun absolutely everywhere, and right alongside and on top of all that fun? Terrible, terrible lighting (for the mommy with the new camera burning a hole in her camera bag). Thus, you will be seeing a whole lot of black and white images. Some people think they're more artistic and emotional. Me - I'm just skirting the whole weird colors thing. (Please never accuse me of being artsy and emotional.)

So another one of the first things we noticed right away were the trains. Trains! We kinda love trains. There are hands-on trains (Hello Thomas) and hands-off trains (Hello miniature Union Pacific).

And then - we saw it. Across the crowded room... a fire truck! I had a mommy-melting moment when Siennalee scooted her little self onto that truck and saw that she could work the truck's siren light. There's nothing like the pure joy of children.

Thankfully Mr. C was driving because this girl is completely taken with the red shiny light.

Once he was satisfied that Siennalee had paid sufficient attention to her driving lessons, Mr. C let Sienna scoot behind the wheel and take 'er for a spin. The bliss on her face is one of my very favorite things.

The Children's Museum then breaks off into several rooms with different themes. One of the first we found was the "office" room, complete with a (working!) inter-office telephone system and semi-antique-but-still-play-with-able office equipment. Mr. C, who frequents the Children's Museum with his mommy Cherry, got right to work.

Siennalee was thrilled with the phone. Especially when an intrepid little fellow museum-goer called her from another "office."

And then - there was the "salon." We spent a lot of time here. And frankly, the photos kinda tell the story better than I could. (I just love my sweetheart's little face!)

I absolutely must add more shots of Miss L. She's pretty darn cute in the pictures, but she's a perfect little doll in real life! (So is her mommy. Next time I'll do a better job getting pictures of the mommies.)

And here's Mr. C again. His mommy takes a lot of pictures, too, so he's no stranger to what to do in front of the camera. Although I did catch him giving me some "aw, c'mon lady" faces though when I was going a little too paparazza.

Another room was the "grocery store" room. It's ideal how they've got this set up like a little neighborhood market. Siennalee took a few moments to survey, then got right to shopping. She was then able to take her purchases up to a very old fashioned cash register and dig her extra-large money out of a little pocketbook that came with the grocery store. How convenient! There was a phone in this room, too, which was able to call the other rooms in the museum. More great fun.

And then there was the "doctor's office" room. The lab coat was irresistible.

And on our way out we spied the helicopter. Mr. C was giving lessons and made sure Siennalee felt comfortable before she did some solo-flights.

The Klamath Falls Children's Museum! What a treat. We will SO be back. :)

Rebel Jessica

2011-04-06T14:34:00.000-07:00

Somebody finally got a new camera. (In other words, the whining is finally over.)

Do Kitties Have a Toothfairy?

2011-03-24T10:38:00.000-07:00

Home Sweet Home

2011-03-20T19:57:00.000-07:00

Jason was gone last week with the Navy Reserves so the Sweetheart and I decided to take off for our second home in the Willamette Valley.

I have to tell you, no matter how well you plan a visit, there are always things you can't quite seem to get to and people you can't quite seem to see. I think that might just be a part of living far away. It sucks, but you do your best.

Our week was pretty packed. We left on Sunday, which happened to be the day of the big wind storm that hit the Valley rather unexpectedly. Driving down out of the mountains on Highway 58 was quite an experience. We had stopped for a late lunch in Oakridge and just as we were getting up to the drive-through window there was a flash and the entire town lost power. No McD's for us. We didn't actually even see the winds until we got a bit further down Hwy 58, below Oakridge. Suddenly I saw ahead of us the tops of giant evergreens bending and twisting and all I could think of was (in a Ross-Geller-from-Friends voice), Uh-oh. After that we were dodging tree branch flotsam and jetsam and a couple trees that had fallen over half of the highway. Rain and winds buffeted our GMC Acadia and I was driving pretty white-knuckled and prayerful. We finally made it to Paul & Anne's house in Junction City only to discover that power was out there, too. Rumors were flying that the power would be out for a couple days, so the Nunn family packed 'em up and headed out with us to Albany where, miraculously, there was power.

So our week had a bumpy start but soon smoothed out. Siennalee was able to get in quality playtime not only with her cousins, but also with the Davis boys, the Rouse girls, and the Schneiter boys. She even managed to have some time without mommy. I was able to do some much-needed Mommy Only Day shopping up at the local outlet malls with my sister-in-law Cheri, as well as some shopping on my own in Eugene. An entire day to myself! I also got to meet with my fabulous writing group girls and even got to have a Moms Only coffee date. My only regret is that I didn't get to spend more time with more dear friends and family. And there's a certain scarf I regret leaving behind back at the outlet malls. :)

Thank you to my wonderful mom who housed and fed us, thank you to Anne who watched my kiddo and planned and re-planned events with me, thanks to my sister-in-law Cheri who let me drag her around for most of a day of shopping, and thanks to my writing group and friends who squeezed me into their routines. I love you guys!

We got back home to our Klamath Falls townhouse yesterday afternoon and have been loving being back home. It's odd to have your heart in multiple places. I miss my family and friends like nothing else - but yet to be back in our little nest is so comforting. I suppose this is the way it is when we live away from each other. Another detail of Heaven which makes it so worth getting there. :)

Siennalee has been spending time working out a little cold bug we imported from the Valley and also getting reacquainted with her toys. This morning she got her blocks out and built "a little house on the mountain." It looked sweetly familiar.

Home Sweet Home.

30 Rock{s}: Happy Birthday Anne

2011-03-13T10:13:00.000-07:00

Today is a very special day. Today marks my sweet sister-in-law Anne's 30th birthday.

When I was a fresh-from-YWAM 19-year-old and taught drama at my local Christian School (and alma mater), Anne was my very worst student. She was a terrible, terrible actress. I spent extra time with her after classes trying to either coax the drama out or shove the drama in - whatever might work. Anne was a quiet, sweet girl (mostly) and - as I knew from reading my brother Paul's diaries - my younger brother's big crush.

Since it began to occur to me that Anne was likely never to star on Broadway or even just quit school and thumb her way down towards Hollywood, I decided to pull some completely unprofessional drama teacher strings and set things up to where Paul and Anne had to regularly interact with each other in key parts of our production. (Please note: I never actually was a "professional" drama teacher.)

I was also Machiavellian enough to send another boy - who had a crush on Anne as well - in a completely different direction and therefore would have no interaction with Anne at all. (Please note: the school did not ask me to return to teaching.)

And although Paul will not only deny ever even owning a diary, but also deny I had a hand in their budding high school romance, I think the proof is in the 19-year-old devious drama teacher pudding. (And I'll save any further pudding proof for a possible "Happy 10 Year Anniversary Paul and Anne Please Send My Matchmaker Fee to my Child's College Education Savings Account" post.)

However it all came about, I really just want to say how very blessed I am to have gotten a sister out of the whole my-younger-brother-got-married-before-I-did deal.

I never could have imagined how very blessed I would be that my very first sister-in-law has become such a dear friend to my heart.

I never could have imagined, way back in the day when she was practicing so very hard at the part she was so very awful at - yet she kept working and working and working at it - I never could have imagined back then what a powerful and sweet force she would become in my life.

How I would watch her marry my brother and build a beautiful little home with him.

How I sat in that hospital room on that heartbreaking day when we lost our families' very first babies - how I watched her sleep and wondered at how very strong she was, this little girl in the big white hospital bed.

How I rejoiced with her when we found out that Isabella Hope would born healthy and she and Paul would finally be able to take their little baby home to that beautiful little house they'd made.

How my own daughter and Anne's second daughter Gracey would grow together as perfect playmates.

How Anne continually worked and worked and worked in her photography, studying and learning and practicing, not only building a strong, solid business that will last through the years, but creating timeless art out of the precious moments of people's lives.

How she endured personal hardship and heartbreak through the past year especially, pushing past her own hurts and disappointments and choosing to trust in and rely on God to be her Father and her advocate.

How she loves and cares for my stubborn, stubborn, tenderhearted brother.

How she has become the sister of my heart and a touchstone of joy in my life.

I never could have imagined all this of the little dark-haired girl I almost didn't notice in my drama class.

Happy Birthday, Anne.

And by the way, 30 does rock.

This is an old picture - I wish I had a *really* old one of us when we were both younger and had bigger eyebrows (okay, that was just me). Looks like we need more pictures together, Anne.

Good Things: Posts, Cleaners, and Oh Look - a Recipe!

2011-03-11T22:43:00.000-08:00

Good Things: some quick reviews on some of the newest - and quite random, I assure you - things I've lately discovered.

1., SmartCat Ultimate Scratching Post

SmartCat Ultimate Scratching Post

The SmartCat Ultimate Scratching Post really is all it proclaims itself to be. Gunther took to it quickly and in the month or so that we've had it, kitty-cat has generally ignored the other features of the house on which he was starting to sharpen those growing kitty claws.

The scratching post is quite tall - tall enough that a cat can get in a really good, satisfying stretch as well as (as the picture indicates) do a bit of climbing. (Please note: the cat in the picture is not my actual cat.)

We also got the SmartCat Perch for the Ultimate Scratching Post which fits nicely on the top of the post and gives Gunther a place to climb to and, well, perch. Since the post is so tall, he gets a good view of the house, as well as the birds and activities outside yonder window, and probably feels a smug reinforcement of that overall sense that he does indeed own his home.

The post is covered with a rough, jute-like material that he seems to really enjoy scratching.

The Ultimate Scratching Post, plus Perch, was in all a bit more spendy than some of the scratching posts out there, but the craftsmanship of this post is so solid and the features so perfectly geared for Gunther that I've no doubt the Ultimate Scratching Post will far outlast most of the other like-minded products on the market. Two thumbs up!

2., Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day

Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day Products

In an effort to begin to steer my household toward more natural cleaning products, I discovered Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day.

My first purchase was a countertop spray in a seasonal smell called orange clove and my-oh-my did it make wiping the counters into a whole new experience. Even before my orange clove counter spray ran out, I was scoping the rest of the Mrs. Meyer's line-up for its replacement.

Mrs. Meyer's product scent choices are incredible: basil, lavender, lemon verbena, geranium, and several seasonal offerings. I have to admit that the geranium scent is a bit too perfume-y for my taste, but I found the others so pleasant that it was very hard to choose. I finally settled on basil and am very happy with my choice. I routinely use the countertop spray and have now added the all purpose cleaner to my arsenal of household cleaners.

Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day products do run a bit higher price-wise than the routine cleaning product; however, if you price them next to other natural cleaners you'll likely find the cost fairy comparable. I started out with the countertop spray, just to test out the scent and the quality of cleaning. As my other cleaners run out, I'll be replacing them with more natural cleaners and will likely continue using the Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day line as cost and cleaning quality continue to line up.

Using Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day products is a treat. It's a little out-of-the-ordinary way to lend a big something special to a very ordinary thing: cleaning. You're left with a beautifully clean and extraordinarily scented home.

3., Recipe: Roast Sticky Chicken - Rotisserie Style

Now, if I'd been consulted prior to the naming of this recipe, Roast Sticky Chicken-Rotisserie Style, I certainly would have pushed for a better - or just plain different - name. Even now that I've made it, the name is still a quandary. I get the "roast" part, and the "chicken" is a given, and the "rotisserie style" - yes, also important. But the "sticky?"

Let's move on.

This recipe is a fabulous roast chicken recipe. And yes, it is the closest thing to a rotisserie style chicken (without the actual use of an actual rotisserie, or dropping by the grocery store) that you can get. And the most important part? It. Is. Fabulous.

This is a recipe off allrecipes.com, which has been one of my go-to recipe sites for nearly 8 years now. The most important part of this recipe is to add the seasoning to the chicken and then let it "marinate" in the fridge for at least 6-8 hours. (I let mine hang out in the icebox overnight and probably will do it the same way the next time I make this.) Another key to this recipe, besides letting it "marinate," is to stuff a quartered onion - and I also added a halved head of garlic - into the cavity. The chicken is going to take a long time to cook - nearly 5 hours at 250 - but it is SO worth it. (The recipe calls for two small fryers but I used one big one and it still turned out beautifully.)

If you find yourself suddenly in the market for a smashingly good roast chicken recipe, do try this one.

Good Things

2011-03-08T08:00:00.000-08:00

I have been sorely missing having a camera to document life. I must admit that not having a camera - along with some other busy-ness that has recently come my way - has contributed greatly to my relapse in blogging inconsistency, or as the professionals call it: "B.I."

So what's to be done? In my free moments, I've been trying to think outside my usual "blog box." This, of course, is best done by talking to myself in the third person. "Okay, Jessica," I say while wiping down the counters in the kitchen and ignoring the alarmed face my Sweetheart makes when she catches Mommie talking to herself, "so you can't take cute, funny, or sweet pictures of the family, you can't set up and capture images the way you picture they should be when you want to add something fun or informative to a blog post... so what else can you do?" Then I stop and (turn around so my Sweetheart can't see me continuing the external inner dialog monologue and) ask myself the money question, "What do YOU enjoy in a blog?"

Well, aside from the fabulous photography blogs I haunt, my other favorite blogs happen to feature motherhood experiences and family stories, which as we've already covered tend to - in my mind - require pictures. So what else? And there it was.

I love to read about new things friends have discovered - a new local restaurant, a great book series, children's books and toys, new recipes, techniques in cleaning & time management, fun clothing styles, good deals, etc. Even things I can't necessarily do any time soon I'm still fond of reading about, such as a couple posts I recently enjoyed very much written by a friend who is keeping chickens.

So, in the vein of giving back a little of what I - as a blog reader myself - enjoy so much, I'm going to do a post on good things. (I also briefly considered just calling it "Martha," but then decided that may possibly put off too many of my readers.) (I also reconsidered this - again briefly - when it occurred to me that I could possibly be contacted by some friends of Martha who happen to be of the legal persuasion.) (Oh let's just roll the dice, shall we?)

Good Things: some very quick reviews on some of the newest - and quite random, I assure you - things I've lately discovered.

Oh, and since I'm trying my best to vary my short and long(er) blog posts, the first of my Good Things posts will be forthcoming.

So here's a picture (of good things, of course):

When He's Gone

2011-02-23T20:30:00.000-08:00

I’m no stranger to being home alone. I guess that’s the up side to spending so much time apart from Jason. When the husband travels, the wife knows what to do. Anymore I rarely lay in bed jumping at every noise and missing that warm body beside me. The stormy waters of afternoon-to-evening - when your sweet child turns into some kind of frothing Gremlin - I can usually navigate safely, arriving at bedtime with both kid and mommy mostly intact. And I can go from cooking nightly dinners down to quick little healthy meals in a snap. Yup. I can do the home alone thing.

I guess the big home alone test is when your military hubby is mobilized. Once a wife makes it through that, she figures she can make it through anything. Oh sure, it’s not like she loves having him gone, even after she's survived mobilization. She really doesn’t ever completely enjoy being without him. But she can reach back into her mind and say, “Man, I made it through THAT. I can make it through this no sweat.” And she’s off.

So, what’s to do when the husband is gone? Well, my preference is to turn it into an adventure - especially now that my Sweetheart is old enough to partake in said adventure. The first day he’s gone I sit down and make my lists. I do love lists. I’ve been known to add “Make List” to a previously existing list. Hey, don’t knock it til you try it. Scratching something off a list is incredibly rewarding. But I digress.

I sit down that first day and make a list of Need To Do’s and Want To Do’s. The Want To Do’s are, of course, the most important. Things on my Want To Do’s usually include projects I’ve been working on for a hundred years (and keep hidden from the husband), buffing and repainting the toenails, and some sort of waxing.

I also add big things to my NEED To Do’s, just to keep them interesting. You see, the point of all this is to make the week that the husband is gone into something different. Something unusual. Fulfilling. Rewarding. Special. So “Give Sweetheart First Hair Cut by Mommie” is added to the NEED To Do list. So is “Make Cookies with the Sweetheart.” Several decorating tasks also make the list. “Fix the Cat” is added this time around. See, it doesn’t all have to be something fun and enjoyable, big tasks that need getting done are prime for the list. You know - those tasks that are often pushed to the back burner where they sit, simmering, for far too long and start to turn into messy, boiling ORDEALS. Then when the week is done, I can look back on it and - with some coquettish bragging to Jason –say, look what I did when Husband was gone. Go me.

Another trick of mine is to get special food. Nothing outrageous. I mean, sometimes I’ll make some special recipes, especially from Pioneer Woman’s Cowgirl Food recipes. Have you ever tried out her most favorite salad ever ever-ever-ever recipe? Oh my goodness. Salad heaven! But I didn’t do that this time. (Although now I’m starting to regret that.) I’ll make things Jason either doesn’t care for or really shouldn’t eat. (Although, my husband will eat just about anything, so I don’t have a lot in that “doesn’t care for” category.) I’ll eat things that wouldn’t fill him up unless he ate several pounds of it. Sourdough bread with EVOO and balsamic vinegar, maybe some goat cheese. Random snacks of avocados, Roma tomatoes, and whole wheat tortillas. Angel hair pasta dishes. Those little meals most men scoff at. That’s what I like. This time I got some boxes of vanilla pudding – NOT the instant kind – to cook and revel in. I knew the Sweetheart would love it. And boy, I do too.

I’ll also go to bed early. Really early. Well, after the kiddo’s asleep, of course. Can’t fall asleep before the 4-year-old. Or I won’t go to bed early. I might stay up. Late. Really late. Reading. Writing stories. Getting wrapped up in those worlds I weave in my mind, with characters and plots and all kinds of intricate storylines fraught with dramatic climaxes and humorous conundrums. But then, of course, I pay the price the next day with the up-and-at-‘em kiddo. So the staying up late isn’t as enticing as it once was. But the point is that if I want to, I CAN.

When he’s gone, my time is my own. I eat what I want, when I want, or maybe I don’t eat at all. I may go to bed early, or maybe I won’t. I can slack on laundry – as long as the Sweetheart and I have what we need. I may not make my bed (okay, that’s a lie – I always have to have my bed made. Even if the room’s a hurricane victim, the bed - snappy). These are the things I focus on. And before I know it, the week has gone by. Husband and Daddy is safely back home. Meals are made. Bedtimes are abided by. And I no longer have to remember not to miss that warm body beside me.

Sans Camera

2011-02-18T15:11:00.000-08:00

I’m a little sad. For many months I’ve been in a comfortable shared-custody arrangement with my sister-in-law Anne (of Anne Nunn Photographers). And now I’ve had to say goodbye. It’s sad. I should upgrade that to a very sad as I’m getting sadder and sadder about it.

But the little guy just had to go home. I guess it’s another part of our new living situation. The distance between Junction City and Klamath Falls is limiting. And although loved ones can still be kept in contact with, not everything can remain the same.  

And so we come back to my current sadness. I hate saying goodbye. I miss the little guy more and more, especially when it comes to plotting out blog posts and wishing I could record cute or momentous family moments. With wedding season beginning for Anne and Paul and then the distance now between us, sadly shared custody can be no more. And I sent the lil guy home.

No, I’m not talking this lil guy:  

My nephew Lincoln
(Image used with permission from Anne Nunn Photographers)

I mean this one:

Canon 20D image from Wikimedia Commons

The Canon 20D is one of the back-up cameras for Anne, and it must be close by during wedding season. So of course he had to go home. But I do miss him so.  

I found I’ve begun to think in blog posts with words AND images. I’m unused to having to peruse the internet for the perfect picture to accent my words and stories – while also making sure I’m staying safely within the “non-pirating” boundaries. ;)

I also find myself going through my day and stumbling upon a story in sequences of images unfolding in front of me: the neighborhood birds suddenly finding our pine cone bird feeders, the current Siennalee/Gunther drama, a sweet moment between Daddy and Daughter, a new picture collage on my wall. Sad.

Away on the horizon is a light – a small light, but a light nonetheless. Plans are settling into place that will allow me regain my Momtog joy. Sole custody of my own lil guy (albeit much smaller and with less bells and whistles than the one I’m used to) is in my future.   

So for now, dear readers, I must allow that my posts will likely be a bit different than before. But I hope you can enjoy them just as much, until my own little Canon can come home.

My Very First Collagen Implants

2011-02-12T09:25:00.000-08:00

If you read my blog, or have talked to me much at all in the past month, you've probably already heard me whining about my most recent struggles with living above sea-level.

Yep. It's been tough.

Finally, I was driven to do something semi-drastic.

Implants.

Not these.

THESE:

Image from Google Images: Seibel Vision Surgery

Behold. The Punctal Plug.

That bad boy is perched on the head of a matchstick (in case you can't tell from the thumbnail image I snatched from the 'net).

Not exactly the first thing to come to someone's mind when they hear the word "implant."

And it goes someplace most people would not aspire to or dream of having an implant.

Like here:


Image from Google Images: Seibel Vision Surgery

It's a bit hard to tell from the above image, but what you're seeing there is that itty bitty plug being pressed down inside the eye's punctum. (The punctum is that minuscule dot on the inside edge of your lower eye lid.) Go on and check it out in the mirror. You know you want to.

And see if you can work the word punctum into at least one conversation this week.

So at this point, dear reader, you are wondering what on earth would possess one to allow such a thing to be jammed inside one's eye?

Behold. My BFF. The eye drops.

When I finally broke down and went into a local eye doc for help, he inquired how often I was using said eye drops. "Frequently." I told him. "So, what's the frequency," he asked me, distractedly messing with my chart, "once, twice a day?" "Um, about every 20 minutes," I told him. His head jerked up with mouth dropped open and - ta da - we began the journey toward tear duct implants.

But dry eye, right? Why clog up the tear ducts? Sounds counterintuitive, I know. The itty bitty collagen plug actually goes down inside the punctum (the eye's drainage port) and forces excess tears to remain in your eye, rather than being tossed out. It's forcing my body to be sustainable. Recycle those tears! How smart. And a bit sociably trendy, no?

Now getting anything - even something that fits comfortably on the head of a match stick - jammed into any part of your eye is no fun. But desperation allows you to do all kinds of things you never, EVER thought you could do. (Childbirth, for instance).

I won't say it was comfortable. And I won't say it wasn't just a bit psychologically distressing to have someone coming at your eye with a needle a wee bit thinner - but just as long - as a knitting needle. And I won't go into how I involuntarily scratched my fingernails against the cold, painted metal of the area you're supposed to rest your chin on while the doctor presses a knitting needle into the corner of your eye. (Random: we watched Shutter Island the evening after the procedure, and it was uncanny the way that lobotomy tool resembled the plunctal plug insertion tool. Pretty glad I saw the move afterward.)

But, I will say - all in all - I'm glad to have had the procedure done. I'm now beginning to entertain high hopes of once again wearing contacts without one eye continually blurring, or me fishing for my BFF to give my eye another nip of the good stuff.

All in all, I hope that the results far outweigh the experience. And I dearly hope that my next implant experience might just be, if not more rewarding, just a bit more fun.

But probably not this.

Thousand Words Wednesday: Papa and Baby Siennalee

2011-02-09T08:00:00.000-08:00

Letters to my Father-in-law: One Year

2011-02-08T14:35:00.000-08:00

Dear Gary,

So here we are, at the end of the year of firsts. I began this letter at the anniversary of our last meeting in this life, and in the time it’s taken me to write this, we’re now on the brink of the first anniversary of your passing. I’d like to think you already know this, but you’ve been so heavy on my heart and mind – especially through the holidays – that I almost feel like I just saw you.

I also like to think that you get to follow along just a bit through our daily lives, and therefore already know events and changes that have taken place, so I’ll not bore you with the usual “what’s been happening lately” paragraphs these letters seem to require.

As the time grows between your passing and our life now, I find that I’m seeing more and more reasons to miss you. Especially during the holidays – it was difficult. It was hard to watch my little girl visit family and friends as I slowly realized that you, her papa, would not be part of these special holidays or future special memories. It was hard to see people who still have the chance to be something important and extraordinary in her life choose to not be. Even in those whom I long ceased to be disappointed, I find new disappointment as my daughter grows and becomes more aware of the grandpas in other little girls lives. This fresh awareness causes me to find renewed value in who you were and what you chose to be. And I find I’m still painfully disappointed that you died.

I gave up, long ago, on finding examples of close, active, godly grandfathers in my own line. But as my daughter grows, and we plan more children, that void has suddenly inspired a new bitterness in my heart. Suddenly I must deal not only with my own lack of a godly father and close grandfathers, but I must deal with the lack of those for my daughter. The heartbreak surprises me.

I find I’m surprised by the continued pain your absence brings. It feels as if I’m grieving my own father, and I suppose in a way I am. From even before Jason and I began dating to our wedding and beyond, I heard countless stories of a strong, steadfast man loving and guiding his children as they grew. Then I was privileged to be a part of those stories as a daughter-in-law. I was happy to be grafted in to such a strong and loving family with a wonderful heritage. And then you were gone.

At times I feel lost and overwhelmed at the thought of carrying that heritage on without the link of you. At times I feel guilty for not recognizing the value of you to the extent that I feel it now. Perhaps that is normal, but I feel it deeply anyway.

You and I both understood, through different circumstances, the importance of a father and godly father figures in our own and our children’s lives. I think right now you would know almost exactly what I’m feeling. I’m certain that at times through your children’s lives you again mourned the loss of your own father, Alvin, in new ways. I know you would point me away from the overwhelming loss I’m feeling and toward the love and blessing of the God we both called Father. I’m certain you would remind me of God's offered reassurance of blessing and hope and restoration of things lost. I know you experienced this first-hand in your own life, and surely you hoped those you left behind would search it out as well. Through all the emails still in my inbox – yes, I’m an e-hoarder – you signed off with phrases like, “I love you all and thank the LORD for His covering us in the storm!!!” and “Can't believe I am so blessed.” And then my very last message from you, “God is good and we are indeed blessed to rest in His care.”

You had cares through your life, but you were faithful to put them into the hands of God – and leave them there – trusting that God’s faithfulness to yourself and your family would be more than enough to see us through.

Though you’re gone, and I deeply miss you – seemingly more and more – I find I can keep those parts of you alive that you worked so hard to infuse in those you loved. I still don’t know how the empty space you left behind can ever be filled, but I do know the same God you knew and loved, and I work hard to trust, like you did, that beyond what circumstances – or even our own history – might be telling us, that God is a good God of faithfulness who blesses us and covers us in the storm and calls us to rest in His care.

Above all, I want to say thank you, Gary, for all you were and all you chose to be. I am grateful to be living in the blessing and the heritage of you and your dear family. And I cannot wait to hug you again.

All my heart,
your daughter-in-law Jessica

My Strawberry-Scented Horror

2011-01-30T11:03:00.000-08:00

Okay, let's get this over with. Long story short, I smell like strawberries.

The Mommie is constantly sticking this thing in my face. I'm just glad she didn't have enough presence of mind to document the Pink Humiliation in the bathtub.

She sure did yell though when she came in and found me all smeared with the Sweetheart's pink smelly shampoo. I guess at that point she knew she had to finish the whole lurid experiment - otherwise I'd probably still be all pink and slick and farting strawberry-scented bubbles.

The Mommie did what she could, and the Sweetheart might've felt kinda bad about it all - but in the end I was the one still wet and cold and shaking like a freaking chihuahua.

I've been licking and licking and licking - and really must advise you that though I may SMELL like strawberries, I do not TASTE like strawberries.

Ahhh, the Mommie had a stroke of genius and got this strangely warm and fuzzy thing out for me. Life is looking better.

Okay, okay, let's make up. You're lucky you're so cuddly and warm and can make me purr, Sweetheart.

...But just so you know, I'm gonna kill one of your favorite plush toys when you're not looking

Beyond the Burt's Bees

2011-01-27T13:03:00.000-08:00

We've been living in our new digs in Klamath Falls for nearly two months now and overall it's been just wonderful.

However, there have been things we've had to get used to. Making dinner every night, driving in snow/ice, creating a routine that doesn't involve dropping everything to show your house, just to name a few. But one of the biggest adjustments the Sweetheart and I have had to make is the environment itself.

Klamath Falls sits at a respectable 4,099 feet above sea level. The Willamette Valley, from which we came, is right around 430 feet above sea level (give or take depending on where you go in the valley, of course). This significant change in altitude means some significant changes - and not just in baking.

As we were first settling in the townhouse, the outdoor temperatures were settling in the single digits and the snow appeared to be settling in for the long haul. It was dry and frigid outdoors.

And indoors, with our geothermal forced air heat, it was warm and dry. QUITE dry. I quickly noticed my Sweetheart's tender little mouth drying out and cracking. Inside her wee nose, too. Both places on her little face would itch and bleed. One day in extreme frustration, she came to me with her little eyebrows knotted together, little hands out in exasperation and wailed, "My nose is falling apart!" With my own hands chapped, mouth cracking, and face and scalp flaking and peeling off, I knew it was time to take action.

I began running a humidifier in Siennalee's room each night and washing her face with Cetaphil followed up by a Cetaphil lotion. And Burt's Bees, of course. Gotta love Burt's Bees.

While she slowly began healing, I began to notice I was having problems with my contacts. Constantly blurry, I changed them, cleaned them, and finally abandoned them. A call to my optometrist confirmed my suspicions: the dreaded dry eye. I began to wear my glasses, which had broken this summer and were tenuously fixed with a glob of hot glue. (Classy, I know.) Give your eyes a break, my doctor had recommended, they should adjust in time.

So I began drinking as much water as possible, taking salmon oil, using re-wetting eye drops, and continuing to forgo my contacts. To combat the dry skin problem, Aveeno was added to my routine and Burt's Bees, of course. Gotta have the Burt's Bees.

This past weekend we got a humidifier for the master bedroom and I have high hopes of the extra air moisture assisting me in regaining my contacts and - one day - seeing without one eye constantly blurred.

These adjustments are a pain. I dislike wearing my hot glued glasses. Even more do I dislike having continuously blurring vision. I dislike having skin flake, peel, and bleed and seeing my daughter so chapped and uncomfortable.

But I am confident this adjustment season is just that - a season. And all the pain and discomfort we might feel now is making us heartier, stronger, and better able to thrive in this new environment.

Life isn't static. Even if it isn't a whole new sea level to face, there are still changes that come, welcome and unwelcome.

And the quicker and better we are able to embrace the change and let the adaptation process sweep over us, the quicker we can move on to the blessings beyond the pain of the adjustments.

Because the blessing is always there - sometimes just beyond the Burt's Bees.

Gunther: Kantola Kitty

2011-01-25T09:15:00.000-08:00

Gunther is now around 15 weeks (by my best guess) and has fit into our family like he's always been here. He's a funny little cat with the most beautiful coloring and giant, velvety paws.

He has excellent cat skills: he took right to the new (covered) litter box we got him and did just fine with his new food (although he does seem to be a nibbler - but aren't all cats?). He was a bit dazed by the Kerrisdale house when we first got him at Christmas, but once we moved him down to the Klamath Falls Townhouse he immediately began waltzing around like he owned the place. Cats.

From what his mama's owner told me, he comes from an excellent mousing line and exhibits this in his daily play. Gunther will stalk with his ears lowered like he's a lion in the tall grass who doesn't want the tips of his ears to give him away, he's "silent but deadly" until he leaps out from beneath the dust ruffle or chair, jumping on hind legs with "arms" extended to grab your leg or foot, claws velveted (unless it's late at night, then the hunter is unquenchable, apparently).

He also has claimed a small plush unicorn toy (who we refer to as "The Victim") that he carries around the townhouse in his mouth and occasionally drags into the dark depths below the beds like a smaller (and only slightly less terrifying) version of Ghost and the Darkness.

Siennalee and Gunther are fast friends...

although at times fickle.

My Sweetheart is learning to be gentle with this cuddly and warm new friend.

The oft repeated "be gentle!" reminder/admonishment doesn't always stick though, and at these points I'm happy that Gunther is able to employ his rather loud MEEEAAAOOOW! and also that he has his thin, needle-sharp kitty claws and teeth. (As a former child pet lover myself, I must own that I spent most of my growing up years with kitty scratches decorating the length and breadth of my little arms. Cat scratches are par for the child pet lover course.)

Siennalee and Gunther have their activities they enjoy together. This includes, of course, running through the house - screaming - chasing each other, one holding and one dangling as they march up and down the stairs, acrobatics with the kitty teaser (fabulous kitty toy), bird watching....

And Gunther gets to take rides in the baby stroller. He must enjoy it on some level, because he stays put.

Although, being a cat, he can't really just give in to something without at least a bit of attitude.

A few of my very favorite Siennalee/Gunther observations and interactions (to date):

“Mommie, come look in my backpack!” Siennalee is wearing said backpack, zipped up and ready to go. Guess who’s inside. Gunther. I now regard all zipped and bulging bags and backpacks with a certain anxiety.
Siennalee is working tirelessly to teach Gunther to walk on his hind legs. The blame for this may lie at my feet as I continually allow cartoons/shows where the animals do, in fact, travel on two hind legs.
Siennalee observing to me: "Gunther is really hungry, that's why he is licking himself."

Gunther is also the very first cat I've had that actually sleeps in a bed meant for him.

And of course, since Gunther *is* a cat, he sleeps wherever else he wants to, too.

And a bit of Gunther Trivia:

Gunther got his name from one of these full cheeked cuties. Anybody wanna guess which one?

(Hint: he's on the show my four-year-old is most likely to have watched *and* enjoyed.)

Thousand Words Wednesday

2011-01-12T07:00:00.000-08:00

New Year's Visit to Crater Lake

2011-01-10T11:42:00.000-08:00

We decided to take a trip to Crater Lake National Park while Mom was down visiting for the New Year holiday. Despite living in Oregon for over 35 years, this was Mom's very first visit to Crater Lake and we were pretty happy to be able to take her.

Crater Lake National Park is about a 45 minute drive (depending on the weather) from Klamath Falls and we bought a season pass to be able to go whenever we want (however, we discovered in that in the winter there's no fee to enter the park. I guess they figure if you can make it up there through the snow/ice/weather/nutty drivers then you deserve to get in for free).

Upper Klamath Lake is fairly shallow and will ice over and thaw very quickly. Here you can just see the cracks scarring the ice surface of the lake.

I love this barn. The wide angle lens on my camera can't quite capture it the way I want, but it's gorgeous. The mountains rising in the background and the snowy fields - just breathtaking. At some point I'll return with a lens that can catch the view juuust the way I want it.

The drive up to the Park is gorgeous, especially with the (huge) snow pack and the giant red Ponderosa pines with green branches frosted with snow.

The snow pack on the sides of the road grew to where we could hardly see over it. It was a little intimidating. (Glad I wasn't driving!)

My pretty little Mommie.

Taking it all in.

Gorgeous Crater Lake.

Beautiful Mom.

The Lodge and Bookstore/Cafe - nearly buried in the snow.

Hello SNOW!

Jason pulled over to, um, sample the snow pack.

Mom was full.

Siennalee got her chance to snag some snow, too.

Snow: pretty - and tasty, too.

Happy (first week of the) New Year!

2011-01-08T11:21:00.000-08:00

Our very first week of the brand new year 2011 in our new home in Klamath Falls, Oregon! New Townhouse is slowly turning into Cozy Townhome and we're enjoying every bit of the novelty of having our little family together every day as well as the adventure of living in a new part of our beautiful Oregon.

Part of the adventure of this new place is learning about (and adjusting to) the new altitude (around 4100 feet above sea level) and environment (DRY and COLD!). It's also been a treat to be around so much snow (although driving in it can be a little nerve-wracking for Valley born-and-bred Jessica).

Not much grows right now in this dry, icy air of the high desert winter, however we did come across something that seems to do quite nicely: the icicle. They hang from the eaves and roofs and glitter and glow beautifully. And boy do they ever grow...

A lesser known fact about the icicle - it can make a wonderful snack.

Happy New Year!

We Wish You A Merry Christmas!

2010-12-24T16:22:00.000-08:00

Do Not Open Until Christmas

2010-12-20T10:04:00.000-08:00

Siennalee has asked Santa for one thing.

And since I'm fairly certain she's on the Nice List,
it's looking like

her Christmas wish may come true.

Shhhhh!

Meet Gunther. All he needs is his big red bow
(part of Siennalee's request)

and he's ready for Christmas morning!

(I wonder who will be more excited? The Sweetheart... or the mommy?)

Decorating the (Gingerbread) Townhouse

2010-12-16T17:54:00.000-08:00

Although we began the holiday season with a big household move, I had previously decided to make it a priority to not let said move interfere too much with Christmas and our celebration of the season.

One of the things we wanted to do this year was decorate our first-ever family gingerbread house! We got a pre-made kit from Costco (ingenious AND a great price!) and settled in one chilly evening with hot cocoa, complete with marshmallow creme and a candy cane, and we decorated this humble gingerbread house from top to bottom!

(Photographer disclaimer: pictures were taken in super low light and so are a bit yellower and LOT grainy-er than I would prefer. Okay, 'nuf said.)

(Homemaker disclaimer: I do realize I am putting up pictures of a GINGERBREAD house before pictures of our ACTUAL house. And really, I am on this.)

Siennalee was enthralled with her hot cocoa - complete with marshmallowy creme - and candy cane.

What a treat! She now asks for this for breakfast. Sorry kiddo, but nice try.

Jason broke open the kit (see above) and got the 2 minutes worth of prep done. (Told you it was easy.) And we got our decorating ON! It was good, clean, MESSY fun. Definitely something we'll love to do every year!

The house came pre-assembled and with a ton of different types of candies for decoration!

The house also came with its own Christmas tree and gingerbread men. Curiously, the gingerbread men did not make it, but the tree seems to be doing quite well. (You can just see a glimpse of my Sweetpea in the back, she's talking to Daddy and I just love her little looks.)

House, pre-decorated and in the buff.

I'm proud to unveil
our very first
-ever-
Kantola Family Gingerbread house!
*applause* *accolades*
(Note the picture on the kit box behind us. We got a pretty good laugh out of the comparison.)

An Open Letter of Apology

2010-12-13T21:33:00.000-08:00

Klamath Falls: Mission Accomplished

2010-12-11T22:18:00.000-08:00

Well, we did it. We moved. As of November 29th, nearly all of our worldly goods as well as Jason, Jessica, and Siennalee have been living in Klamath Falls, Oregon.

Left behind in Albany is our house (as of yet un-sold), a small contingent of storage, and our sweet doggy who, alas, is not welcome in our new townhouse. (Thank you Mom for being such a good doggy grandma and taking care of him until he can come home to us!) My mom is also keeping the house for us until we all make further plans. Doggy and house sitter - Mom is good people. :)

But now, we are - finally, gratefully, blissfully - a family living together under one roof. One roof with boxes stacked nearly to the popcorned ceilings (um, it's not a contemporary place, our new townhouse), one roof with nearly 600 square feet less than we are used to (and one less garage - as in no garage), but - one roof with all the novel happiness of seeing each other every day and basking in the coziness of this sweet new place. We are happy. We are blessed. We are together.


This was the view from our master bedroom window as snowed and snowed and snowed the first several days we were here. In the distance you can just see snowy Hog's Back Mountain. And in the lower right-hand corner you can see my new Acadia (hi sweetie!) shivering under the carport.

When Things Come Together

2010-09-20T08:17:00.000-07:00

These days I get ridiculously excited about anything I am able to complete. I am, of course, using "anything" sorta liberally - I'm not suddenly jumping up and down, squealing with excitement when I drain the last of my water bottle. No, I'm talking about completing something that I have hoped for, undertaken, put together, worked on, dreamed about and finally am able to see finished. I step back, breathe it all in, and work to let it fill up some of the large space inside me that still is aching to be filled by bigger things that aren't yet happening.

One of these things I've just finished is the bedding set for the king size bed Jason and I purchased several years ago. We bought the bed when Jason was mobilized overseas so - although he saw pictures and approved the choice - it was really me who hunted it, bought it, and got to be the first to settle into the vast reaches of comfy mattress space that is a king size bed (after one is used to a queen/full).

Following the purchase of our new king size bed, I began to haunt websites for cute and well priced bedding. Then - success! - Pottery Barn had a close-out on some duvet covers and I zeroed in on a blue one along with four matching shams. Alas, it was not to be and if you missed it you can read the whole sad tale of this unfortunate duvet and our misadventures on craigslist in this previous post (um, click here).

Amazingly, after "feeling, owning and letting go" (mantra swiped from my Auntie Ellen, thanks Auntie Ellen!) of the disappointing duvet, everything worked out as planned. I did indeed sell the lackluster duvet (and four matching shams) to a very nice and remarkably un-psycho-like craigslist buyer and THEN: I found - while shopping for something entirely different, yes *quite* by accident - the One, the Exactly-What-I-Always-Wanted king size bedding set at Kohl's. I quickly ran it past Jason and gained his approval and through the following months I stalked the Kohl's website and when sales occurred (or Kohl's cash) I leaped to action and slowly pieced together a spanking new bed set.

And I'm ridiculously pleased to say I now have the entire (and when I say "entire" what I *really* mean is totally open to adding additional cute, matching pillows) bedding set covering my fabulous king size bed. I tell you, it's a treat to walk into my bedroom and see my beautiful bed. I step back, breathe it in, and nod slowly. There's no better feeling that that feeling you get when things just come together.

Inevitable Evolution

2010-09-17T08:00:00.000-07:00

My little girl is starting to say her l's.

Of course, when I say "say" what I really mean is that she's beginning to correctly pronounce the letter "l" with the "l-l-l" sound rather than the "w" sound. She's actually beginning to sound exactly like her cousin Isabella, whose unique way of saying the "l" sound has delighted me since Bella began using it.

While do I of course enjoy hearing Siennalee's speech maturing, in quiet moments I find myself fondly reminiscing of the days of "I Siennawee" and "Oh wook at his wittle wegs!" Don't get me wrong - I don't wish for my child to spend years in speech therapy (I myself had at least one year devoted to re-learning to say my s's; "My name ith Jethica.") or having fun poked at her by other kids boasting better pronunciation skills (thankfully my daughter is bigger than most of her peers, not that I advocate violence - really just the possibility of it often does the trick).

But moments like these, such as listening to a newly acquired skill being employed and practiced at every turn, moments like these do give a mama cause to smile, step back and wipe surreptitiously at suspiciously moist eyes while savoring yet another of the wonders of this most precious and holy calling: Mommyhood.

Summer Days Driftin' Away

2010-09-15T13:52:00.000-07:00

Somehow, I’m just realizing, the summer has passed by in a whirl of packing, unpacking, traveling hither and thither, and cleaning cleaning cleaning. I feel a pause in the frenetic activity that has swallowed me up these past months. And I glimpse fall waiting quietly in the wings.

I’m glad for it. Fall is my very favorite season, so rich in color and spicy smells and good hearty recipes and family get-togethers. I also rejoice in the tangible proof that seasons do change – especially when one has felt caught in a souped-up version of the movie Groundhog Day.

Yes, many things – blogging included – drifted to the wayside during my summer months of packing, travel, and cleaning. Oh sure, I began several blog posts, but somehow pushing the “publish” button was simply beyond me. Heck, at one point, I even re-designed my blog layout for the summer months, but alas, nary a post. Ah well.

The seasons are changing, and though change brings both loss and gain, I believe my family is ready for them. There are new plans in the works, new ideas being discussed, and an anticipation we haven’t felt for quite some time. Sometimes in order to gain the new things, the old things – the comfortable, safe, known things – must be put aside.

So welcome, fall. I can’t wait to see the changes you bring.

Sweet Moments: Mommie/Daughter Talks

2010-06-02T15:59:00.000-07:00

Siennalee: Mommie, when I grow up I can have a computer?

Mommie: Yes, Sweetie.

Siennalee, eyeing my San Pellegrino Aranciata : And I can drink Mommie Drinks?

Mommie, glancing away from the computer to her nearby beverage: Yes, that's right.

Siennalee, musing, eyes roaming the living room: And I can put on music when I grow up?

Mommie, chuckling: Yes you can!

Siennalee, getting excited: And I can drive when I grow up!

Mommie, unsure as to how we got to driving, but going with it anyway: Yes, you can drive when you grow up.

Siennalee, decisively: But not when I'm small.

Mommie, heartened that (against all odds) somehow some limits are being understood: Good idea, sweetie.

Daddy's Home

2010-05-28T17:39:00.000-07:00

He's tired. He's dragging. He's slept all day. He's been living in a tent camp in Virginia with his US Navy Reserve Unit for the past 2 weeks.

But he's home. Sleepy. But home

Luckily his girls aren't too high maintenance.

Thank you, Jason, for working so very hard for us - your family and your country. You help make so many blessings and dreams possible, not only for me, but for our great country. I love you so.

Tests, Blood, and Vampire Eyes

2010-05-27T21:59:00.000-07:00

My quickly-numbing eyeballs were growing blurry. I knew my niece Isabella watched me with her somber, perceptive gaze, so I did my best to grin and bear it, even cracking the occasional joke. She didn't laugh. She doesn't find me funny.

We - me, my sis-in-law Anne, niece Isabella and nephew Lincoln - were sitting in the optometrist's office waiting for my pupils to dilate to that weird, unnatural state that seems to get eye doctors all so giddy. Tests from my previous eye appointment had dictated this one; pressure in my eyes was showing too high, a possible forerunner of glaucoma. So I was ushered in for another round of tests. Not something I'd really ever WANT to do, but especially now. House on the market. Husband away for two weeks. Difficult past year under our belts. Yada yada yada.

So I sat and laughed with Anne as we rounded all the topics two women touch on when they're parked in a doctor's office waiting room and working hard to distract each other.

Finally, when I could no longer focus (literally) on the book Isabella was holding or on my drooly 9-month-old nephew lolling on the floor, the nurse called me back. I underwent the tests with what I hoped was saint-like joy and endurance so my niece would be inspired ("I remember waaay back when Auntie Jessica was in that eye doctor's office...").

And then we were done. Of course, I'm skipping over all the really fun details - like the gallons of extra drops (of whatever they happened to find lying around in random droppers) into my poor eyes, like the things I had to squint at and look past and NOT BLINK, NOT EVEN ONCE for. Yeah, after all that -we were done. And the doctor came in.

Dr. Jonathan Berry is one of those really great doctors who comes in, exchanges the necessary pleasantries quickly, and then gets right down to business. So, y'know, you're not left waiting. Wondering. Guessing at the rate his eyebrows are moving and trying to work that rate into some kind of mathematical equation which tells you how bad the news really is since evidently he isn't going to tell you for another hour, give or take another round of eye drops.

"Everything looks good, real good," Dr. Berry said right away. And I relaxed. My lungs gave up that extra quarter of space they'd been hoarding for the past few weeks - or longer. Things were finally turning. Even just a little bit. Good news was here.

Long, detailed, and medically brain-numbing story short - my tests showed that my optic nerve (the part of the eye which deteriorates during glaucoma and eventually causes blindness) is just fine. The pressure in my eyes was still measuring high, but they'd watch that and if things began to go south, they'd give me eyedrops to combat it. Almost as an afterthought, Dr. Berry had me undergo a cornea test - yup, more drops. Later he called me at home with the results.

Turns out, I have extra-thick corneas. This means two things: 1., People with extra-thick corneas always test out at a false higher pressure in their eyes and 2., People with extra-thick corneas are less likely to get glaucoma than those with thinner corneas. Go figure. Finally there's an extra-thick part of me that I can be proud of. They'll still be keeping an eye on me - standard procedure when things aren't textbook, but all in all, it was a good report. I'm glad. I needed one.

A second good report came when we were leaving the optometrist's office. The nurse from my OBGYN office called my cell with the results from a follow-up blood test I'd taken.

Brief history: after the second miscarriage last September, my doctor had had me take a rather extensive series of blood tests to rule out any cause for miscarriage.

Now, understand that most miscarriages, even subsequent ones, are just due to sad chance. Not coffee drinking. Not heredity. Not God wanting the baby to be in a better place (even though they certainly are). We are imperfect bodies, living in an imperfect world. I understand that it's easier for a lot of us to have things like this buoyed up by a deeper meaning behind it all, but sometimes things just aren't.

But I, wanting to do all I could to keep from losing any of our next babies, I took the test. And in the first round, something was testing out a little higher than it should have been. It ended up being one of those somethings which was just high enough to make it not quite a negative, but not so high as to be a clear positive. So my doctor decided to err on the safe side and had me take a mild medication (Baby Aspirin) to offset the potential condition. He also requested that I retake the test later.

And here we were. I had retaken the test. And now I sat, just outside the optometrist's office where I had been given a much-needed good report, cradling the phone to hear the confirmation of the blood test results.

Negative. My results were negative for the condition that could have caused the miscarriages and could affect any future pregnancies. I did not have the condition. My blood tests were perfect. It was a good report.

We got home and all the girls ran to play; the drooly crawler rolled around on my floor, looking for unsuspecting objects to stuff in his mouth. I went to the bathroom to check out my still-numbed and blurry eyes. Staring into the mirror, I had to chuckle a bit as the blue of my irises were only barely visible behind the ominously large, black, dilated pupils. I looked like a hungry vampire. But my heart was more satisfied than it had been in a very long time. Sure, the events of the past year were not undone. The things my family waits on and prays for are still yet to arrive. But, as I looked back into my black eyes, I knew two very big things had been brought to a very good close. All the worry, all the tears shed over them were now dried up and left behind. I was free to move forward, unencumbered. Without fear.

The turning of the tide: sometimes it comes slowly, but still it comes.

Some Thoughts on Craigslist (And No, They're Not for Sale)

2010-05-24T06:30:00.000-07:00

Society is pretty much divided up into two people groups: those who do Craigslist, and those who don’t.

Now, I have friends who buy, sell, and surf Craigslist as often as I check Facebook – which is far too often, but don’t tell my husband… he won’t approve… for whatever reason.

For too long I’ve flitted around the borders of Craigslist no-man’s land, never a poster nor a buyer, but not a true abstainer either. Finally, my time came.

It was my duvet cover that did it. I had bought it from Pottery Barn during the long months when Jason was stationed in Kuwait. It was a great buy and what I’d hoped was a step toward something new, but unfortunately, it would be a step in the wrong direction. The duvet cover is a blue background with flowers and paisleys (my brother Paul is a big paisley fan – ask him about it sometime) spread liberally across the foreground. I enjoy flowers and tolerate paisleys, but the blue I’d envisioned (this was an online purchase) was more of a blue steel (more Martha, less Zoolander) and what arrived via UPS was a stubborn country blue circa late 1980's. Okay, not that bad. (If you're a fan of blue and looking for a king-size duvet cover - with four matching shams - call me!) I was displeased, but remained confident it would look good on our new king-sized bed. Maybe it would grow on me. We could work it out. Long story short, here we are, nearly three years later, and the blue has not grown on me. We can't work it out. In fact, it became one of those things where I would be busily doing something else, something innocent and non-duvet related, and I would find my eyes unwillingly, inexorably pulled back to my bed. And to the blue. Dear God, the blue. Finally, three years later, unable, unwilling to take it any longer - I burst out in dramatic confessional fashion to Jason (or was it more of a sleepily whiny confession?), “I don’t like it! I just don’t like it!”

So here we are. Hello Craigslist. I took some good pics, if I do say so myself, and wrote what I’d hoped would be an attention grabbing, witty little title and post for my duvet cover (and four pillow shams – yep, sorry guys, you’re out, too). I posted it late Friday night after creating my VERY FIRST Craigslist account. Actually, I think you only ever get to create one anyway, but I digress…

That night I was plagued with dreams of psychopathic Craigslist stalkers emailing inquiries on any duvet cover listings throughout the Corvallis/Albany area…

And the next morning – surprise! – an inquiry. I was excited. I was scared. The emailer, with an odd name but nothing sounding Nigerian-email-scammer-ish, wanted to know if “it was still available?” Odd, but whatever. Not everybody sits and stares at the emails they’ve just taken 20 minutes to compose, recompose, and recompose again before they finally hit send. After 20 minutes I sent her back a very brief, “yes, it’s still available.”

Later in the day, I checked my spam folder – I hadn’t heard back from her and thought, maybe, just in case… and there was her return email. Odd. I checked it. And shuddered.

An “auto response” from her yahoo account (what the hey is that anyway?) didn’t even mention my duvet cover (and four matching shams) – I tried not to be hurt – but gave some very odd invitation to a “midnight meet-up” for those who were too shy to put in their own personal ads.

I read it once, read it again, and spammed her. I might've even spammed her twice. I don’t think she was ever even interested in buying my duvet cover (and four matching shams).

Alas, I’ve had no more inquiries. Disappointment is setting in.

But I’m also encouraged for those out there – and apparently you are out there – who are too shy to put in a personals ad, but might be looking for love through a well-worded, witty household goods post on Craigslist: Avelina Cornett is on your side.

Visions of the Future: iMac

2010-05-22T12:43:00.000-07:00

The month of April found brought us to a long awaited milestone: an iMac.

Apparently - according to the little book that came with our iMac - we were made for each other. I certainly have been enjoying getting acquainted with Mac. He's done well keeping me company during these long weeks with Jason away on Navy duties in Virginia.

Mac is fulfilling two purposes for our family: 1., we needed a new desktop computer and 2., I needed something that could assist me in my new and upcoming roles for Anne Nunn Photographers as well my fledgling design business.

So the month of April brought us the iMac and the month of May (and likely June, too) will be spent getting to know and developing a good working relationship and workflow with him.

Overall, we're very pleased with the transition from PC to Mac. It's been easy, fun, and heck - like we were made for each other.

The future looks very very good.

Letters to my Father-in-law

2010-05-20T23:36:00.000-07:00

Dear Gary,

This time of year usually has us scrambling for good ideas for your birthday present. I think you always knew this, on some level, and probably enjoyed it. I'll be honest - you were a hard man to buy for. I think we usually ended up giving you one of three things: a book, a movie (usually war or history), or camping gear. I think we generally did a pretty good job, but it was always hard to say since you weren't a gusher.

Toward the end of your life, and then afterward, I wrote you letters. Sent to you, posted online, and some waited. But you and I had that in common - writing. You encouraged me in it. I know you planned on writing a book once you kicked the cancer. I wish I could have known what you were writing. I wish I could have read it in print.

I'm writing you now as sort of a last present. I suppose, true to our tradition, I am scrambling a bit; it's near 11 pm the night before your birthday (and your granddaughter is faithful to get me up around 6 am these days).

I wish many things had been different. I wish you'd have been healed from the cancer - for the second and last time. I wish we could have spent more time together, somehow. I wish I'd have asked you more questions when we were together. I wish you'd have taken the trail out of Cly lakes instead of having us go off those wretched topo maps, clinging to the sides of shale-covered cliffs. (I know you'll be laughing at that last one, even if my blog readers are scratching their heads a bit.)

I want to tell you how well your family is doing. Not to say there aren't days where the loss of you is overwhelming, but they are steadily moving from surviving toward thriving. When you passed away, I began to look at your family - my family - with different eyes. I still love them the same, but I'm more aware of them now, with you gone. My disappointment in losing you and the pain I feel when I see those who love you hurting makes me want to go above and beyond in reaching out to them, in loving them, caring for them and praying for them. I can now understand why people continue to do things for people they love who have long passed away. It's because my loving those who you love is another way of continuing to love you, though you're no longer with us. And I now understand more of how that works into the Kingdom of God. I want to love God's people because He loves them, and I love Him so dearly. I want to be an extension of His love back to His people. Your life - and your death - is teaching me that. Another thing for which I'll love you forever.

Your son is doing well. He misses you greatly. I am so grateful you and Tricia raised such a fine man and that God brought us together. He's busy planning camping trips through the coming year, and I know you are never far from his thoughts. You left him a good heritage; we are blessed to pass that on. Know that we will pass that on. Siennalee is growing like a wildflower. She talks about you often. She knows you are in heaven with Jesus and remembers you gave her that Jack Russell terrier from Build-a-Bear (oh that she had been more temperate for you that day!). She remembers your face and can pick you out of a line-up (picture). :) One of my biggest blessings is that you are in the presence of those beloved souls who couldn't stay with us: your parents, Uncle Mel, my sweet nephews, and my two babies lost last year. I am comforted that you have two grandchildren to dote on and I am comforted that they have you. Having you in Heaven, in the presence of God makes it all more real for us still here. "Treasures in heaven" has new meaning.

I have not forgotten what you told me in what would be our final conversation. You were so near to seeing the face of God; I've held tightly onto the word you gave me. You had more to say, I remember, but were going to send it on later. I suppose I'll just have to wait to hear what that was; it's something I look forward to.

So this is the first of the "Year of Firsts" of having you gone. Next will be Father's Day. And so on. Life will go on, but you will always be missed. I understand I don't have to wish you a happy birthday; you know nothing but joy where you are now, but it is a happy birthday. I, as your daughter-in-law, married to your wonderful son, mother to your precious granddaughter, am so grateful there was a birth-day for Gary Kantola. It made possible my life today and made my joy complete.

Happy Birthday, Gary.

All my heart,
your daughter-in-law Jessica

Wordless Wednesday

2010-04-21T06:00:00.000-07:00

Post-It Note Tuesday!

2010-04-20T06:00:00.000-07:00

Post-It Notes - brilliant! Want to play along? Do!

Wordless Wednesday

2010-04-14T12:00:00.000-07:00

Post-It Note Tuesday!

2010-04-13T16:08:00.000-07:00

Post-It Notes - brilliant! Want to play along? Do!

The Long Road Home: Part 2

2010-04-13T06:00:00.000-07:00

After an hour of no movement in our line of cars on HWY 58, and the only cars coming back our way were either giving up or willing to chance a back road, we too turned and headed back to Oakridge. Siennalee and I needed to visit a ladies' room, Jason was making calls to family with knowledge of Oakridge back roads, and I wanted ice cream for me. In short, we had become those willing to chance the back roads. We had also called our sister-in-law Anne who had checked tripchex.gov and saw HWY 58's status had gone from "Expect a 20 minute to 2 hour delay" to "CLOSED."

Anne then put us in touch with her aunt and uncle who have a cabin up around Oakridge. They told us of a back road that would lead us back down into the valley. We were losing daylight and decided to chance it. After a brief visit to the DQ restrooms and a fresh Goodnight pull-up on Siennalee (no way was I putting my kiddo in a way to have to sit in a urine soaked carseat for the next several hours - and we have yet to master the "pee-on-the-side-of-the-road" skill), we drove off to locate the road.

Turns out, that back road? It's a local secret. After searching turned to doubting, we turned around to head back to the city when an older gentleman - okay, he was a typical 50-something Oregonian male with a long white beard, an old Subaru AWD wagon (that had most definitely seen some action) and all the assuredness of guy who's lived and driven through those mountains his whole life.

"Ya lookin' fer the road t' head back t' Eugene?" he hollered at us. At our assent that yes, we were indeed looking for that road, he grinned, gave us a funny look and yelled, "Follow me!"

And we did. I realize that usually at this point in the movie the audience is up out of their seats screaming, "Don't follow him! DON'T FOLLOW HIM!"

The aging neighborhood road gradually diminished into a tightly winding, uneven little lane heading up into the pine forest. At first we were uneasy at following a stranger into unknown woods. We are informed movie watchers, and we well know the perils that can follow along story lines such as these. We grew chagrined at how often our leader pulled over to the side of the road to let oncoming cars (and there were plenty - either word about the secret road had gotten out, or people were desperate enough to follow anybody not sitting in a line of cars lit up with brake lights).

"Be patient," I encouraged Jason, soothingly.

"Jessica, I don't like heading up into the woods with some guy who for-all-we-know could be a serial killer," He replied, edging our car up closer behind our leader who was once again pulled half off the road so another line of cars could pass.

"Or," he conceded once the serial killer's car started moving again, "he could be our guardian angel."

It was like that for some time: the road grew narrower, the stops more frequent, cars with lights on kept coming. And daylight faded into the shadows of the trees.

But then we began to recognize that our serial killer/guardian angel was actually just biding his time - once the line of oncoming cars had passed, he'd hit the gas and take off to gain as much distance as possible before the next line of cars snaked up to us. The road disintegrated into some of the deepest potholes I've ever seen. Our over-packed car groaned and shook and muttered motorized-curses.

We squeezed by a tow truck and then his quarry: a commercial van which had slid off the road and was resting with two wheels on the sloping river bank and the other two wheels in the air, pointing back at the road as if to will themselves back down.

The road narrowed to barely a lane's width. We stuck close behind Mr. Serial-Killer-Slash-Guardian-Angel and followed him to hidden turnouts and unseen shoulders. Potholes haunted us and struck at unguarded moments. Siennalee rode happily through the whole thing, contentedly watching a princess video on our portable DVD player (BTW, the portable DVD player: a must-have for traveling with small children. They should make them a mandatory purchase for anyone having kids).

And so we continued for a white-knuckled, stomach-dropping, stop-and-go hour along the road which was at most times little more than a muddy, graveled, hugely potholed, one laner twisting and turning through back-wood hills and along a river ravine and then reservoir. Mr. Serial-Killer-Slash-Guardian-Angel actually eluded us for a time, going so fast we could hardly catch him until he had pulled off once again to let another car or two pass.

The evening got darker and the road grew worse. Then suddenly, asphalt! Ahh, asphalt. You could almost hear our car go, "Ahhhhh, that's the stuff." More twisties and turnies, and then we began to see signs of civilization again. Then we were in the town of Lowell.

We pulled up beside Mr. Serial-Killer-Now-Guardian-Angel and rolled down our window. "Wuddn't thata ride?" He crowed out to us.

Indeed it was, Mr. Guardian Angel, indeed it was.

Images from The Long Road Home: Klamath to Albany

2010-04-10T08:00:00.000-07:00

Oh yeah, she's packed in there

(Time for a bigger vehicle, Mommie and Daddy?)

But seems to be okay with it all.

Everybody deserves face time with the camera.

(I love Siennalee in the background - pure joy. Behind her is a stack of migrating household goods.)

The picture is a bit dark, but you can still see how undaunted she is by the winter weather lurking just outside our car.

The Long Road Home: Part 1

2010-04-09T07:56:00.000-07:00

Friday before last, we packed up two weeks of living in our rustic little Klamath Falls apartment and headed back up to Albany.

The usual drive of 3 hours, 40 minutes through high mountains, a mountain pass, one mountain tunnel, several bridges spanning rivers, and intermittent seasonal weather (snow and rain) surprised us by adding another 2 hours and change.

We left K Falls late. We hate doing that, especially when we're due to meet weather through the pass. Snow and ice over roads that climb and dip with sudden stomach dropping turns are not fun outside of Disney Land. So we grumbled as we began the trek back. And we were on empty. Not just empty, but that lit-up-gas-tank-icon was flaring at us like it was on fire. And we had no idea of any gas stations in the proximity that we needed one. So we did the typical "Oh please Jesus let us find a gas station before the fumes run out" prayer and drove on with eyebrows knotted and fake laughter to keep Siennalee at ease. Although I doubt she'd have worried. She's pretty sure we're super heroes. Gotta love toddlers.

Anywhoo, we finally discovered a gas station hidden away in a teeny-weeny town called Chiloquin and paid $3.30 per gallon (a feat which had us fondly reminiscing of the Summer of 3's when gas suddenly became like gold, or at least espresso) to reach a whopping $50 full tank. And you're quite welcome, Chiloquin local economy. It was either that or a nice little chunk of cash to your local towing company.

We hit the road again and were pleasantly surprised to find the weather not at all what we'd expected. The roads around Crescent Lake are always a little hairy during the winter, but we made it past that, up over the Willamette Pass (hi skiers!) and down to Oakridge where we stopped for dinner at Dairy Queen.

Ah Dairy Queen. How we love you. However, we don't sense much reciprocated love when you hand us our meals, complete with a kid's meal, and overlook giving us any napkins. To be clear: NO NAPKINS.

But no worries, we were over half-way home. We tucked into our burgers and fries (I did my very best to ignore the steady transfer of ketchup from my child's kid burger to my child's face) and happily drove on. We came around one of Highway 58's infamous hairpin turns and saw break lights. A line of break lights. We slowed and stopped - something that feels so odd and so wrong after tooling along at 55 mph.

Time went by.

Jason and I quickly ran out of guesses for what was the cause of the stop. We knew directly ahead lay one of the worst turns on HWY 58, right under a train trestle. It was evident by the immobile traffic that whatever was ahead was bad. Very bad.

So we sat in our over-packed car and waited. Siennalee and Daddy enjoyed melty DQ ice cream sandwiches - did I mention we had no napkins? Yes, and since Siennalee is nearly potty trained, baby wipes have fallen lower down the travel priority list. So no baby wipes either. No napkins tucked away in the glove box. No box of tissues. Nada. We watched our child turning into a small ice cream sandwich with pigtails and Jason crunched his ice chips from his drained DQ soda. She soon finished and then held out stickily shining hands in growing concern. She looked at me, little ice-cream-sandwiched face wrinkling in sticky angst.

"Don't touch anything!" I instructed while desperately scouring the car for something. Anything. Well, not anything...

Crunch crunch crunch. Pause. "You could use a sock," Jason said finally, indicating a random small pink sock by my feet. I looked at him, not wanting to understand. He crunched his ice and looked back at me. "You could use some ice chips and that sock and clean her up." Erg. Yes I could. I closed my eyes and breathed deep. Crunch crunch crunch.

"Alright! Give it to me." I turned in my seat and got on my knees, reached over and grabbed an ice chip from Jason's empty cup, got the pink sock, and reached back toward my incredulous toddler who kept looking from the dripping ice chip hand to the random and questionably clean pink sock hand. "Be still," I advised her, darkly. Yes, it worked. In the end, she was clean. Albeit questionably.

You never know what drama is going on in the cars around you. Especially at those endless traffic stops.

Wordless Wednesday

2010-04-07T15:46:00.000-07:00

Post-It Note Tuesday!

2010-04-06T09:46:00.000-07:00

Post-It Notes - brilliant! Want to play along? Do!

And Then God Sends a Boat

2010-04-05T09:16:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when the floods of life take over, God makes the rain stop.

Other times, He sends you a boat.

This is, of course, metaphorical writing since my house was not actually flooded to the point of needing a rowboat - although the panic I felt at times could have been akin to a huge disaster like that.

The boat God sent me was in the form of Hayden Homes (who had built our house and neighborhood) and more specifically, in the form of Heather, who quickly answered my emailed Hail Mary plea for assistance with my leaking house. Even though Hayden Homes technically did not have to assist with my plight, Heather recognized that the shabby workmanship on my house was something that absolutely must be addressed. She immediately sprang to action and had a crew here by the next business day.

The leaks have stopped! And all that is left is clean-up and painting, which should take place later this week.

I must admit, I truly did not see this provision coming. It is marvelous and humbling to be reminded that, beyond whatever our circumstances seem to be telling us, God remembers us.

She Took Her Time... Like a Serial Make-Up Killer

2010-03-31T17:11:00.000-07:00

Nap time had been quiet. Apparently too quiet.

C'mom mommies. Would your kids be this thorough? She had to have been planning this for months.

She didn't even try to pretend innocence. She's ready for the cuffs.

And Then Your House Springs a Leak.

2010-03-31T13:48:00.000-07:00

Sometimes life feels overwhelming. If I let my mind go back over the past year and a half of life’s events I can suddenly be immersed in tears: two miscarriages, father-in-law passing away, house on the market becoming house-on-the-market-for-almost-a-year, a household move imminent yet never arriving, husband and daddy away during the work weeks, and now suddenly my home being invaded by water due to faulty siding.

Yes, life can be weighty. It can feel overwhelming to the point of little things like a random stain on the carpet sending you over the edge when in the world of sane thinking all it merits is a strong “dang it!” and a rush to get the carpet cleaner.

As I type, almost a third of my living room carpet is actually up on end, ripped up and off the damp floorboards which are (as of now) blessedly free of moving puddles seeping in from below the baseboards. At this point, stains are the least of my worries, although I’m pretty willing to bet that, should I see one, I might break down into messy tears and unintelligible oaths. Life can be weighty.

And I’ll admit, I have wondered if, with this seemingly unfortunate series of events, I’m not unwittingly starring in some dark comedy like Will Ferrell in Stranger than Fiction. But since life is so far devoid of an English accented narrator dictating my fate, I’ve been able to rule that theory out.

When I first felt the damp spots on the carpet and moved on to discover the insidious source, I stood for a moment in the living room considering my options. The dizziness coming in waves told me I could very well break out into some sort of overload of nerves, complete with tears and snot. The absurd straw-and-camel's-back-ness of the situation and previous life events definitely warranted some incredulous laughter, although I knew if I attempted that one at that very moment it might come out sounding a little scarier to my poor mother – who was nearby, watching me carefully and making sure her cell phone was close at hand. Then there was what I knew should happen: I could figure out practical moves to save my home and do my very best to keep it together and try to praise God through it all.

See, I don’t think God made my house leak. I think it was the result of sloppy, hurried work done by someone who just didn’t know or care enough to do a good job. I do think, however, that God expects me to believe that He will care for me through this crisis – because He’s saved me before, so many times. Sometimes saving came in little ways, like providing a new friend or a job just in time, sometimes it came in big ways, like protecting me and caring for me through a bus wreck when I was in high school, or in a tiny foreign plane skimming the trees of the Guatemalan jungle which housed armed guerillas and still landing safely and without incident. Big event or small occurrence, I have enough evidence from my life alone which proves that, even in the face of a series of unfortunate events, God concerns Himself with me and will work actively on my behalf – even when it doesn’t feel like it. Even with no evidence at the moment. And the way that I handle the moment – to praise God for His faithfulness and eventual rescue and restoration – is the way that I will enter the next chapter of life. In defeat or in victory. In sadness or in rejoicing. How I choose to handle these moments in the face of no evidence of care or concern is how I will enter the next season of life.

Seasons do change - it's the nature of life. Some seasons will be easier and happier, some harder and maybe sadder. But they will end eventually, and the next one will begin. What the storybooks fail to tell us is that Happily Ever After is a moving target. Even when you finally get that to that one point you've really wanted: a marriage, a baby, a house, a new job - life keeps going. It's how we choose to make it through as life keeps going that really matters. It's what we choose to do when our house springs a leak.

Neither Wind nor Rain.

2010-03-08T17:35:00.000-08:00

I planted seeds today. It was sort of a devil-may-care, fate-be-damned kind of act on my part, mostly because a woman in my situation shouldn’t be sowing into ground that might be someone else’s at any moment. But today I didn’t care.

You see, I’m tired of waiting. And I’m tired of loss.

So during a coldly sunny moment this afternoon, while Siennalee napped sweetly, I ran outside armed with last year’s leftover seeds, my still winter-stiff purple gardening gloves, a trowel and my trusty organic fertilizer.

I’d already scoped out my raised bed when I weeded it this last weekend and knew right where I needed to plant. I scratched the fertilizer into the dirt, carefully added the seeds (lettuces and peas), buried them, and ignored the spills due to my shivering and the blasts of icy wind that blew down unexpectedly. By the time I got the remaining snow peas tucked into their little semi-circle, I was feeling pretty good.
Chilly, but good.

I was doing it.

I was making something happen.

Even though the ground may not even be mine by the time the little sleeping seeds awake and grow and produce, by golly, something’s going to happen. Standing there, quaking slightly in the cold light, I felt like I was standing up to fate. For all this endless waiting and loss we’ve endured, something good is going to happen.

That’s when   something did happen. Standing there, shivering and gazing contentedly down at the quiet little rows of upturned earth, I suddenly felt whispers of chill drift down on me; I scrutinized the dirt incredulously and then looked up at the sky.

It was snowing.

But come winds or rains or weird March snows,    my seeds are planted.

Kantola Family Pictures: A Sneak Peek

2010-03-02T19:52:00.000-08:00

Here's the one you're always hoping for:

Don't hate us because we're beautiful.

Here's the one you get:

Man, that's just how we roll.

Air Siennalee

2010-03-01T11:03:00.000-08:00

Adventuring to Idaho

2010-02-25T17:30:00.000-08:00

Siennalee isn’t quite sure what to make of it all.

"Are we goin' to Klamath Falls?" She asks, watching me scurry around the house with armfuls of clothes, blankets, and those miscellaneous better-not-forget-me things which threaten to take your luggage over the magical airline-imposed 50-pound-limit golden rule.

"Nope, we're going to Idaho. We're going to leave tonight and then get up real early and get on an airplane" here I say the word airplane with the same hallowed, breathy voice I save for princesses and Santa Claus "and we're going to fly over to Idaho to see family."

Being 3, she accepts this and goes on with her day, until the next odd thing I do that she just can't quite figure out.

“Why you putting all those vitamins in there?” she asks, quirking her daddy’s eyebrows at me, “Are we goin’ eat them all now?”

“They are for this weekend – for the trip we’re taking.” I answer, putting the baggy resolutely out of her reach.

She accepts this and goes back to her shopping cart over by the dining room table. She’s got her own errands, after all.

Jason and I have spent the past few days explaining to Siennalee about the first part of the trip we’re leaving for today and, most imminent-importantly, about tomorrow – when the airplane will come into play.

“It’s going to be big,” I tell her, “like a bus."

"Where is it now?" she asks.

"I'm not sure," I shrug, truthfully, "but it will be ready for us when it's time for our trip."

She spends a few minutes theorizing about where she's pretty sure it is right now.

"It will probably be very loud.” I casually remark to her after she's settled on where the plane most likely is at this very moment.

She gives me the eyebrow again, “I don’t like loud noises,” she reminds me.

“I know,” I assure her, “but the plane has to make noise just like our car has to make noise. It’s going to take us waaay up in the air, through the clouds, and maybe we’ll be able to see mountains waaay below us.”

She considers this, and I can see her weighing the plane’s transgression of being loud with its ability to fly us waaay up in the air. “Okay,” she agrees, with a look that tells me “for now.”

Look out, Alaska Airlines. We’re headed your way.

Households and the Mother of Invention, Part 4: Going Dark

2010-02-25T06:00:00.000-08:00

Jason and I are big fans of the show 24. We DVR it and watch it together on the weekends when he’s home. One of the past shows had Renee Walker (woohoo!) under deep cover in a Russian Mob Syndicate (no worries – no real spoilers coming if you’re behind on your episodes - make that waaay behind, which coincidentally, we are) and communicating with Jack Bauer using an ear com. One dramatic moment had Renee suddenly advise Jack Bauer she was “going dark” just before she took out her ear piece and dropped it down a sink drain. She was no longer “plugged in.” She could neither hear nor talk to Jack.

Aside from the whole Russian Mob thing, and the perilously fragile thread of life-and-death communication with Jack Bauer, the “going dark” feat felt strangely familiar to me.

Life in Klamath Falls - or I should say our week of life in Klamath Falls - is very simple. And I like that. Most of the time. The apartment is quite Spartan (um, have I mentioned this?); toys are only the favorites brought down by the Great Week in Klamath Falls Migration, meals are all planned and ready to go, no laundry to be done except the absolutely necessary.

We also have no television or internet. Our Week of Life in Klamath Falls can feel very much like we’ve just Gone Dark.

There are definite pros and cons to Going Dark (i.e., having no television or internet). The biggest pro is a lovely peace from information over-stimulation. I love my shows and my sites and online friends, but there’s something to be said for quiet days listening to my daughter play and reading books with her, making simple meals, and reading or writing. It’s sort of like a spa visit for the soul. Sometimes I can let myself get so frenzied with checking email, sending email, checking blogs, writing blogs, checking Facebook – it’s nice to have time where I just can’t. Can’t do any of it. Now don’t get me wrong – email, blogs, Facebook, it’s all my choice and I very much enjoy being part of it. I CAN always say no. But there is a certain freedom in having the choice made for me: no logging on, no tuning in.

The biggest con to Going Dark is pretty much just that; having no tv or internet. Now, we do have a DVR at home in Albany (allow me to say: a DVR is SUCH a must, especially for a family – but that’s another blog for another time) so we don’t miss our important shows; we just watch them later. But Siennalee does miss being able to watch her regular programs during her daily routine. Little Bear. Little Einsteins. Those are the two big ones. We get around this by bringing DVDs (we do have a tv and DVD player – we’re not totally in the Stone Age, okay?) and having some “tv” time during the day. Siennalee’s a great independent player, but sometimes it’s nice to veg a little. We all need that occasionally. I try to get new DVDs at the library, but this last time I ended up buying a couple: The Muppets Take Manhattan and Little Bear’s Movie. They have both turned out to be excellent choices.

The most frequent con to Going Dark appears when I’ve finished whatever book I’m reading or I’ve hit a stall in my writing. Sometimes I just want to log on and see what everybody’s doing. Sometimes I’d like to know if there’s snow or ice in the forecast. The worst con to no internet is when my sis-in-law Anne needs me to design and send something ASAP for her photography business. We can *get to* internet, but it’s sticky. McDonald’s is one of the smart-and-super-cool businesses which paired up with our internet service and offers wireless internet access away from home at no extra charge (yay Mickey D’s!). We’re pretty lucky to have a McDonald’s about a quarter mile from us, up the sloping hill upon which sits Oregon Institute of Technology, one of K Fall’s claims to fame. Load up the computer (hopefully with full battery), get in the car, drive up the hill, park in the McD’s parking lot, log on… wait… still logging on… wait a little more… check the local radio stations… still logging on… consider calling your mom or sis-in-law… still logging on… pick up the phone to dial your mom or sis-in-law – and you’re online. Just like that. I tell you, I am pretty darn grateful these days to be able to just sit at my kitchen table in my Albany home, open the laptop, and TAH-DAH! Internet! Just like that. Wow. No driving to McDonald’s, no logging on… just internet. Amazing.

When we get back home to Albany, it sure is nice to be able to switch to a different program, maybe switch back again, run through my DVR’d show list, or get online without visiting the golden arches. But overall, the week of life in Klamath Falls mostly finds me reveling in the peace and simpler pastimes. There’s definitely an upside to Going Dark.

Attention to those with Wedding Plans in 2010!

2010-02-24T12:44:00.000-08:00

Attention anyone with wedding plans in 2010! My awesome sister-in-law and photographer Anne (of Anne Nunn Photographers) has joined with Blush Bridal Events to offer an amazing contest featuring YOUR love story! Check it out!

February: Sunrise, Sunset

2010-02-22T09:28:00.000-08:00

Monday, February 1 - Jason wakes before the sun and drives back to Klamath Falls for the work week. Start the week, marvel that February is here already.

Tuesday, February 2 (Groundhog Day - did he see his shadow?) - Prepare for the busy week and weekend ahead.

Wednesday, February 3 - Take Siennalee to dance. Leave around 2 to drive into Eugene and shoot an evening wedding with Anne.

Thursday, February 4 - Anne and girls drive out to Albany and we all head over to a local high school for the second part of our H1N1 vaccinations.

Friday, February 5 - Begin to pack and put meals together for the following week in Klamath Falls along with usual cleaning and laundry and playing with Siennalee.

Saturday, February 6 - Engagement shoot with Anne.

Sunday, February 7 - Superbowl! Make food. Enjoy friends. Pack up for the coming week in Klamath Falls.

Monday, February 8 - Get up before the sun, wake and pack up the sleepy, grumpy toddler and drive almost 4 hours to Klamath Falls. Drop Jason off at work, drive to apartment, unpack and begin to settle in.

Tuesday, February 9 - 4:55 am, get the call that Gary, Jason's father, has passed away.

Wednesday, February 10 - Pack up, drive back home to Albany. Pack for Jason & Jessica trip to PA. Bed at midnight.

Thursday, February 11 - Wake around 3 am. Drive to Portland for early flight. Have airline advise us that all flights - up to ours - into Philadelphia have been canceled. Do we still want to check in? Yes, we do. Fly to Las Vegas. Anticipate being stuck there until weather clears in Philly. Miraculously fly out and are the first flight to land in the only cleared landing strip in Snow-mageddon'd Philadelphia airport. Pick up luggage, rental car, and drive to hotel in amazingly good time. Once in hotel, discover large luggage has popped large hole sometime during flight. Thank God that most of my unmentionables are still there, although there is a suspicious lack of undies. Bed around 11 pm EST.

Friday, February 12 - Wake up around 6 am EST. Drive to Jason's parents' house to make breakfast and be with family. Smell like bacon for the rest of the day. Help out with setting up for memory service that evening. Attend memory service and take pictures of event. Return to family home for more time with family. Bed around midnight EST.

Saturday, February 13 - Sleep in til 7 am EST. Get up, finish last minute projects, get ready for Gary's Celebration of Life Service. Attend service. Immerse myself again in camera, hoping pictures turn out clearer than present vision blurred with tears and mascara. Spend precious time with family. Bed around midnight EST.

Sunday, February 14 (Valentine's Day) - Wake around 3:45 am EST and drive to airport, drop off rental car, and check in. Get informed that luggage (borrowed from mother-in-law since original luggage popped a hole) is 2 pounds over weight. Jason offers to pay with credit card. Airline employee doesn't want to bother with running a card payment and allows it through for free. Make it to Vegas and have a "Meet the Parents" airline experience with an airline employee who believes we are sneaking ahead in line (Southwest cattle lines - moo), makes us stand aside out of line and gives the entire boarding crowd a lecture via intercom on the importance of numbering. Endure smug passengers behind us commenting loudly on basic counting skills. Board the plane and miraculously have seats together! Give Jason the movie I'd gotten him for Valentine's Day and watch it together on our portable DVD player. Get home to Albany around 6:30 pm PST. Snuggle Siennalee, put her in bed, pack up for Klamath Falls again. Hit the hay around 11 pm PST.

Monday, February 15 - Wake around 6 am PST. Pack up sleepy, grumpy toddler and begin the 3 hr, 40 min drive back to Klamath Falls. Spend the week catching up on sleep and decompressing, playing with Siennalee, reading and writing, and trying my best to care for Jason as he works all week.

Friday, February 19 - Pack up and drive home. Unpack and get Jason ready for a drill weekend. Hit the hay around 9 pm.

Saturday, February 20 - Jason wakes up before 6 am and heads to drill. Spend the day doing laundry, unpacking and enjoying Siennalee resettling into her home and her toys. Jason gets home around 6 pm and we get in another early bedtime.

Sunday, February 21 - Jason wakes around 6 am and heads to drill. Siennalee and I head to church. Head home and continue with laundry and cleaning - make a run to Costco. Have Jason's sister Cheri and Auntie Donna over for dinner. Jason gets home around 6 pm. Pack him up for a week in Klamath Falls. Another early bedtime.

Monday, February 22 - Jason wakes up around 5 am and drives back to Klamath Falls. Siennalee wakes up right after he leaves - a full hour early - and we start our day. I make lists for the day and for the week. MOPS tomorrow, dance on Wednesday. Jason will drive home on Thursday and we'll all pack up and head to Portland to spend the night for a 7 am Friday flight to Idaho. Gary's burial service will be this weekend. One last goodbye. Looking forward to seeing family again and also traveling with Siennalee and Jason - all of us together. Home on Sunday.

And thus passes February 2010.

Goodbye Gary: Beloved Father, Father-in-law and Papa

2010-02-10T20:02:00.000-08:00

My father-in-law Gary passed away early yesterday morning. He was an excellent, marvelous man. My best memories of the seven-plus years I’ve known him have been passing through my mind like close friends:

Camping up at Box Lake, Idaho, when Jason took me to meet his parents for the first time. I didn’t know then all the many wonderful backpacking and camping trips that would follow that one.

Trying to focus on his words as he officiated the ceremony that married me to his son.

Being reassured by his strength and resolve as my husband Jason, his only son, was activated and mobilized to Kuwait.

Walking with him down to My Father’s Place, a local grill joint in McCall, Idaho, and ordering burgers and shakes.

Watching him fly fish at countless lakes in Idaho and Oregon.

Enjoying his handiwork around my house; he’d always have to have a project when he and my mother-in-law Tricia came out for a visit. Once he bought and installed a spice rack Tricia had described to me and I’d wished for. Once he painstakingly hung a piece of art which they’d carefully hand-carried on the plane from Pennsylvania to Oregon – it still hangs in my living room and is one of my very favorite things. Once he was out behind our back fence, valiantly fighting the wild blackberry bushes threatening to overtake our backyard when along the train tracks behind our house came a huge piece of tractor equipment the rail line had been using to groom the sides of the track. The man driving the enormous machine stopped, asked Gary if he’d like any help, and then proceeded to dig out the bushes in about 5 minutes, saving Gary at least two days of work.

Watching my husband and Gary ski together. Jason would snowboard and Gary would ski. They so enjoyed these times together.

Listening to Gary talk about the many passions of his heart and the latest topics he had been reading.

Talking with him about countless different ideas, issues, and thoughts.

Being encouraged by him to continue my writing.

Having him drive us through New York City, expertly navigating the extreme streets, and then him getting a ticket for talking on his cell phone. That was funny.

Enjoying the banter between him and my mother-in-law. Watching them hold hands. Seeing him come home with Hallmark cards for his beloved wife, for no real reason other than she was so special to him.

Watching him enjoy his first grandchild.

Listening to him talk about his dad Alvin, who passed away when Gary was 14 years old.

Visualizing my husband’s first baby steps as Gary re-lived the memory; we all sat parked in front of a little house with a little yard in Idaho; Gary and Tricia debating the details of the yard and the overalls baby Jason wore; me holding the hand of Jason’s first baby as Jason himself was half a world away from us in Kuwait.

Hearing Gary bless God for no particular reason other than he was thankful for life.

Trying my hardest to find peppermint ice cream to have on hand before Gary’s visits because he loved it so much.

Listening to him talk with his relatives, two of my very favorites gone on before him: Uncle Johnny, Uncle Mel.

Giggling with Jason as Gary and my mother-in-law Tricia would bicker; then quietly make up (as always) and go on as if nothing had ever happened.

Feeling so safe in his company, whether it was in the deep woods or navigating the crazy streets of New York.

Being so thrilled and thankful that I was marrying his son, the heir to such a beautiful line of strong and God-loving people.

You will be very much missed, Gary. So missed, I can hardly say. I wish we’d had years more together. I wish you would be here for the grandchildren yet to come. I know it wasn’t always easy having a headstrong daughter-in-law, but I hope you enjoyed that quality in me, as you yourself were always surrounded with strong women in your own family. The good memories are always more resilient than the tough ones, and I choose to hold onto those when I think of you. Thank you for raising up a son who is such a fine husband to me and an excellent father to his children. You were a good, strong man of God and I pray that your legacy will inspire even more of those men to come. Be blessed now in your peace and seeing the face of our wonderful God. Enjoy seeing your mother again and your father, from whom your time away was much too long. Have nice long discussions with Uncle Mel and tell him I miss our talks together. Enjoy Uncle Johnny and his banter. Please give my own two babies lots of hugs and love; you’ll be seeing their faces before I. Tell all your stories to my twin nephews and enjoy them. You are certainly one of the best of our treasures in heaven. We loved you when you were on this earth, and we’ll love you til we see you again.

So come everyone let’s gather together
and sing the Song of the Lamb
Come every angel from the highest of heaven
Sing to the great I Am
So come every nation
Come every tongue
Lift up your voices in praise
So come all creation
All in one voice
Sing out your praises to Him

For He is a good God
He is a Great God
His love will endure throughout every generation

We will be planted by the River
All of the days of our lives
And it will be well with our souls
And it will be well with our souls

Come, Everyone
Brian and Jen Johnson

A Valentine Confession

2010-02-05T09:27:00.000-08:00

Confession: I like Valentine’s Day,
I really like it.

Now, I realize this confession may really irritate those of my friends who are a little more hardcore than I, and I also realize this opens me up for some pretty antagonistic humor. But I, being a lover of holidays, do embrace Valentine’s Day.

Don’t get me wrong, there are certain elements of the Happy Hearts Day which are, for lack of a better term, grating.

A particular commercial comes to mind which (in all fairness, I should point out has been running since Christmas, but still) epitomizes the sappiness which the holiday hounds (card companies, jewelry hawkers, and yes, chocolatiers) force feed us every year:

Uncomfortably Sappy Jewelry Commercial

Seriously folks, it’s only natural to revolt against such drivel. I mean, I get where Kay’s was heading, but sadly somehow they overshot romantic and landed solidly on creepy. Honestly, when the lightning strikes and girl gives the expected female response – leaping into the nearest man-arms (c’mon girls, we’ve all been there; up in the caaabin, stormy niiight, potential aaaxe murderer outside with niiight vision goggles) – guy tells girl not to worry, reassures girl that he’s right there, then pulls back, smile fading, fixes girls with this stalker-sultry gaze and says, almost under his breath and to no one in particular, “And I always will be.” Never mind that he’s pulling some kind of velvety box out of his sweater vest – any sane woman would be running, shrieking and arms flailing, down Restraining Order Road, axe murderer lurking outside in storm or no axe murderer lurking outside in storm.

And listen, I realize Valentine’s Days themselves can go awry; I’ve had my own share of bad ones. The worst was when I spent the better part of a day carefully making homemade candy for a boyfriend (who really should have been let go months before) and he showed up with a lone red sucker in his pocket (in hindsight, it might have had some sort of Valentine’s Day emblem on it, so yeah, he should've gotten points for that) and shrugged that he hadn’t had time to shop. (Ehh, I now chalk that experience up to learning; sometimes you have to know what stinks in order to not step in it again.)

But let’s bypass the unfortunate experiences of the past. Let us ignore those vapid commercials for now. And let’s do our best to block out the garish red and pink oozing from store aisles and looking like it just popped out of the belly of Christmas like the alien from Sigourney Weaver.

Let’s examine the fun parts of Valentine’s Day. When I was single and in college, one of the best Valentine’s I had was spent with two friends at a local Shari’s (borderline decent Denny’s-like restaurant of the Pacific Northwest). We talked, drank super cheap, barely drinkable coffee, made each other laugh til the coffee came out our noses and had a great time. For Jason’s and my very first Valentine’s Day, he flew in from Stockton, CA (where he was living at the time) and I had dinner for him – I’d ordered a heart shaped pizza from Abby’s Pizza (great local pizzeria). I found this terrifically funny, I mean, a heart-shaped pizza! How corny can you get? I could hardly stifle the giggles enough to place my order to the unimpressed Abby’s waitress. (I guess when you spend an entire work day dealing with heart shaped pizzas, the novelty dies, right?) Then for dessert I made him a homemade white chocolate banana cream pie. Hey, I liked the guy, okay? (By the way, he did manage to do better than a sucker; besides flying in to spend the holiday with me, he'd got me a whole mess of flowers and other fun surprises.)

Now that we’ve been married 6 years and change, my husband and I still enjoy Valentine’s Day. We don’t really do much that would impress the Valentine's Day purists, although he will send me flowers (I confess, I do like that) and then we’ll try to go out to dinner and hit a movie (c’mon, like we aren’t going to use any and every excuse we can get to do dinner and a movie?). Yesterday I got a new pink shirt at Costco (try to hold back the envy, ladies) and plan on wearing that out for the big Valentine’s Day date. I may even wear those new brown pointy-toed shoes I scored from my sister-in-law Anne. Since I’m writing so much about the Happy Hearts Day, I may even get a corny oooo-they’re-heading-out-on-a-date-gag-me-with-a-spoon Valentine’s Day picture of Jason and me to share with you (that way you can see my new pointy-toed brown shoes).

Bottom line: Valentine’s Day can be fun. Whether you have somebody to smooch with or not, embrace the corny, get some friends together and indulge in too much coffee and laughter, buy a shirt at Costco, score some new shoes from your sis-in-law, indulge in some chocolate and avoid the overpriced roses - and be happy! Life is good.

Households and the Mother of Invention: Part 3

2010-02-04T06:00:00.000-08:00

Gaps in the Week-in-Klamath-Falls Migration Planning don't always mean Household splurges. Sometimes it just means I have to get a little more clever in my inventive thinking.

For instance, rice is part of tonight's dinner, but I've overlooked packing a sauce pan and lid. The only thing I have on hand which is along the lines of what I need is a cast iron skillet and foil (by the way, foil? Excellent, excellent invention. One of the best inventions ever.). I'm not about to go out and waste a precious household splurge on a rice cooker, so here is the result - which by the way, worked very well:

Perfect rice. Some of the best I've ever made.

Not quite a gap in the planning, but a hole, for sure, is laundry.

While we do have access to a coin operated washer and dryer, I rarely remember the quarters needed to run them. I suppose I do keep the apartment's laundry area in the back of my mind for catastrophes – which are not unlikely given we are still in the final throes of potty training – but for several little things dirtied, meet my K Falls no-coins-necessary clothes washer:

The Listerine did manage to sneak in a cameo, but is not a part of the process. ...Although things would smell mintily germ-free.

Hot, hot water and soap. Swish swish swish.

More hot water. Rinse rinse rinse. No fabric softener though - haven't gotten that clever.

As for the dryer, I use an old technique my mother taught me for delicates that require air drying. After rinsing the articles, I wring them, lay them flat on a towel, roll the towel up – sandwich wrap style – and then proceed to step on it. Step, step, step, STOMP STOMP STOMP.

Please ignore the unpainted toenails and the house pants. Yoga pants and a pedicure - that's all I ask.

Then the little things are hung with care in the spots of the house most likely to assist with their drying.

Yeah, I wonder about the neighbors. But they wonder about me, too.

In this colder, wetter season, prime drying real estate is on the drapery rods, directly beneath the heating vents. The example above is the living room picture window. When not being used as a dryer, it gives us nice little views like this one:

There are a family of pheasants that live in this little cove of trees. We've been able to watch them quite a few times. They don't say much to us; I secretly wonder if they frown on my clothes line in the front window.

Random Facebookness

2010-02-03T16:00:00.000-08:00

And if you join Facebook, here is some of the stuff you'll have to put up with (especially if you become my friend):