descent indeed

Whatever works. It's a motto I've adopted as a parent, and it comes especially handy on days when nothing seems to work. Alice is currently wandering around the family room holding a clear plastic tupperware bowl that contains (today) about one-third of a deck of cards. Once upon a time (about 15 minutes ago) it contained the entire deck - but the frequent spills and subsequent tearful games of 52-card pick up were giving Alice a case of the Big Weepies. So I crept in and spirited two-thirds of the deck away under my shirt (this is what I've been reduced to: stealing precious "toys" from a toddler - a toddler who is sure to have a future dealing cards in Las Vegas).

Alice is, again (again again again again) facing a very tough bout of teething, this from the child who can have teeth coming in for weeks on end. For months on end. Today (and last week, and the week before) it's her four bicuspids. Gums swollen and purple. A child that can't find anything that will engage her without tears and lots of help from the mama.

So far we have watched the same 8-minute snippet of a DVR'ed episode of Sesame Street no less than TWELVE times, we have played with plastic spoons, Chip's car, blocks, Phoebe the cat, plastic bowls, sample size shampoo bottles, and the aforementioned deck of cards. Later, I'm hoping that we can play with TRAFFIC, which should be lots of fun.

See you on the other side of THE TEETH. Or barring that, the other side of a nap, which would also be helpful.

a descent into randomania

As I'm writing this, Chip and I are watching a DVR'ed episode of Man Vs. Wild with Bear Grylls. If you haven't ever seen it... you really should. This particular episode is one where Will Ferrell (!) goes out with Grylls on a survival mission in a remote part of Sweden or Norway. Or something. We saw an interview with Will Ferrell where he referred to this trip. He said that he sort of drove Grylls crazy. He used the term "annoyed the crap out of him", actually. Will Ferrell kept asking Bear when he'd be forced to drink his own urine. (And I know, I know - this is totally a publicity stunt and blah blah blah true reality versus bending reality for the cameras, etc. etc., I KNOW - sometimes I'm okay with that, for the entertainment.)


- - - - -


We've got leftover reindeer head for breakfast. It's well and truly cooked by now. -Man Versus Wild

I finally got the ad up last week to sell our washer and dryer on Craigslist, and I've been taking calls about it for the last few days. It never fails, but as soon as I get off the phone with a potential buyer, Chip asks me questions that I never consider to ask. Every time.

Some snippets from last night:

Whimsy: He says that his washer just died yesterday.
Chip: Washer AND dryer?
Whimsy: I don't know. I didn't ask.

Chip: When does he get off work?
Whimsy: 4pm.
Chip: Where does he work?
Whimsy: I don't know. I didn't ask.

Clearly, I'm really cut out for this.


- - - - -


Should I take the reindeer head with us? -Man Versus Wild

There's an ill-advised ice cream truck that patrols our neighborhood. Along with Pop Goes the Weasel, the truck blasts the following summer show-stopper sure to get every kids' attention in Ice Cream Truck Tinkly Music: What Child is This. Not kidding. On Saturday the ice cream truck dude decided to branch out and added Joy to the World to his loud speaker repertoire. I don't know if he just has no context of understanding the proper time to play a Christmas tune OR if he goes shopping for Ice Cream Truck Songs at the bargain basement and they sell Christmas jingles in June for a STEAL.

Which reminds me of The Little Brother's preoccupation with a certain Winston-created tape of Christmas music (that was played every Holiday season for my entire childhood - think peppy 1960's organ music spliced with that Gomer Pile dude singing Christmas music spliced with Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby). Once TLB figured out how to play the tape (which was, actually, a reel-to-reel old time large spooling tape system housed inside a stereo that spanned the length of our living room wall). Picture that spooly round tape thing in every room-sized computer from 1960 and you will be picturing our very fashion-forward tape thing. So anyway. TLB, he figures out how to play things on the stereo and proceeds to blast The Whimsy Family Christmas Mix Album. Every day. In the middle of the VERY HOT summer. Ask Stacie. She'll tell you all about the afternoons spent sitting on my front porch listening to Bing Crosby sing White Christmas.


- - - - -


I wonder how eagle cornea tastes. We'll have to leave that for next time, I guess. -Man Versus Wild

Let's talk PERNICIOUS BLOGGING DROUGHT. I'm going to post three new things to read this coming Friday, July 3rd. Now you have four days to prepare. If you want to participate, email me (whimsyattack AT gmail DOT com) by end of day Thursday and I'll make sure to link to you on Friday's post.

Spadoman was curious about the word PERNICIOUS. That word always makes me laugh, which is why I used it. It reminds me of Roald Dahl's vermicious knids in his book Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator.


- - - - -


Paging Mary Stewart Johnson*

There's this lady who keeps showing up on Chip's Facebook page as a friend suggestion. She looks like she walked out of the pages of Better Homes and Gardens magazine. In 1962. Including the bouffant hairdo. Chip has no friends in common with her. At all. At yet there she is, time and again, smiling out at him. He is starting to think that he should just request her, for the fun of it.


*Not her real name


- - - - -


I wonder how eagle cornea tastes. We'll have to leave that for next time, I guess. -Man Versus Wild

True story: I once tried to potty train a cat.


- - - - -


It's not Man Versus Wild, it's Man Versus Bowels. -Man Versus Wild

Chip: Do you think Bear Grylls is good looking?
Whimsy: Um.
Chip: You think Bear Grylls is good looking.
Whimsy: I think you're better looking than him. But...
Chip: But you think Bear Grylls is good looking.
Whimsy: It's not that, exactly.
Chip: Oh. You like it when he's naked.
Whimsy: What?! No, it's not that exactly.
Chip: You like it when he's naked.
Whimsy: No... but, well, he has a really nice body.
Chip: I knew it! YOU LIKE IT WHEN HE'S NAKED.
Whimsy: Yes. I like it when he's naked.


* Disclaimer: It's a show on the DISCOVERY CHANNEL, for goodness sake. It's extremely EDUCATIONAL. There is no, um, visible nudity. But Bear Grylls... he seems to find times when he falls through the ice into icy water. Or into raging rapids. Or somehow seems to be naked. At times. In the wild. And it's... well whatever. We'll talk after you've seen the show.



** Edited to add: Blogger is adding on the HATE this morning and won't let me fix the double-posted quote. I've tried. I've failed. Several times. Ugh.

three things (the first)

I don't know about you, but I feel like we're in the midst of a pernicious blogging drought. It seems to have begun sometime mid-May and has continued to plague the internet world since. This is not to point to any specific blogger or specific posts (or lack thereof) because dude, I am feeling the pain.

But amidst the wide dry floor of Blogging Possibility, there are some serious bright spots. To wit! I have an IDEA! That I MUST SHARE WITH ALL OF YOU.

Three suggestions. It starts with three suggestions of Things I Think You Should Read. I'll post the links here, and then! And then! You can do the same! Post three suggestions of great blog posts (don't even have to be RECENT) on your blog - and then link back here. Could be posts you've written, or posts by someone else, whatever - anything goes. Email me that you're participating and I'll include links here as well. That way we can ALL have new stuff to be reading.

I'm going to start today - and I'll continue to do this each Friday for a while, we'll see how well this goes and if we get bored by it or if we actually run out of ideas (doubtful) or if we actually can WILL THE DROUGHT TO END through our active sharing of Great Things.



Three Things You Should Read according to Whimsy:

Marathoning by Eleanor Q

This Post by M that STILL makes me laugh

A Few Things That I Shouldn't Care About by Dr. Maureen


* * *

Updated with:

- Three Things You Should Read according to Amanda - go here for her links!

- Three Things You Should Read according to Swistle - go here for her links!




Happy reading and happy Friday!

a belated father's day note to chip

My Dearest Chip,

Please teach me how to play. You know how to have fun, how to let go, how to not worry about the dishes in the sink or the clothes waiting in the dryer to be folded. You know how to be in the present moment no matter what else might be competing for your mind's attention.

You know how to play with Alice. She sees you smiling, laughing, arms and legs tangled as you roll around on the floor without a single worry for knocking over a lamp or bouncing a ball against the ceiling. She loves to join you in these games.

I watch from the sidelines, wondering how it is to be a dad.

You watched my body change as Alice grew inside my belly-- watched me bond with the strange interloper, listened to me talk to my constant companion. You might have been afraid that you'd always be watching the mother-daughter dance from the sidelines forever. But in those first moments of Alice's birth, you were there in ways I could not be. While I lay strapped on the table, surgeons busy putting my insides back in my inside--- you followed Alice's journey around from doctor's arms to scale to table to doctor's arms and finally into your own. You talked her through it, telling her not to be scared, that you were so excited to finally meet her. That you couldn't wait to play.

The mama is safe. She is constant. She is soft. She is there. The mama is a reminder of shoulds and shouldn'ts, can'ts and mustn'ts. The mama is wheat bread and vegetables.

The daddy is fun. He is play. He is hardy and climbable. He is a colorful variable that sweeps in to bring her high flying fun and safety all in the same package. The daddy is encompassing. He is strong and deep. There isn't anything that he can't do.

I don't regret any of this for you, or for me. I love being the mama. And I love how you are the daddy, Alice's daddy. The best one she could ever have.

But still. I want you to teach me how to play. Teach me how to open Alice's bedroom door by playing peek-a-boo. Teach me how to think up a new game with the blocks every single day. Teach me to make silly noises in Alice's ear. Teach me to let go, to give in, to be be be. Teach me to run into the wind, to drink in the starlight, to splash every rain puddle. Teach me how to have fun. I want to learn.

Happy Father's Day, love.

Your Whimsy.

Lazily blogging, y'all. I'm writing this on Tuesday night whilst watching our weekly fix of Deadliest Catch (maneuvering crab boats through 4-foot thick ice, anyone?). This entry will be posted Wednesday morning. While you are reading it, I'll be hanging out in a doctor's waiting room with two (count 'em TWO) toddlers. Alice and her buddy S. Good friend Kate has an appointment and I am the designated Waiting Room Mom, so as to avoid some of that pesky toddler-in-the-exam-room hijinks we're all so familiar with.

More words on Lazy Blogging? Things that are taking precedence over a Real Blog Post:
- watching Deadliest Catch
- sharing a large vanilla cupcake with Chip
- recovering from the Tuesday 90-minute yardwork session (oh the humanity... AND the spiders)
- having a nice pop culture discussion with Chip (this is my fancy way of saying that we're discussing the fact that Jon and Kate are getting divorced - we each have theories about the affects of raising a family on a reality tv show)

IN CASE ANYONE HAS BEEN WONDERING, we found Chip's wallet. In the recycling bin. Actually, it was inside a packet of papers which was inside a large plastic box which was inside the recycling bin. Dumpster diving at its finest, my friends, but it sure paid off.

One final point to make about yesterday's post, since it's All Whiskers All the Time here lately: cats really do lose their whiskers! They do! It's not that often, but they do lose them. I'll usually find them by their scratch post, or where they take their afternoon naps. One time -and this only happened once- one of Fergus' whiskers actually fell out into my hand when I was rubbing his face. It felt like a weird little gift.

whiskers on kittens

There are things we keep to remember... a photo of a friend from grade school - knee socks and sandals, a doll clutched tightly in her arms; a poster from a concert you attended in college - the one when you met the lead singer of Mudhoney, you told him he was brilliant and he asked you if you knew where the bathroom was; the movie stub from your first date with your husband; the handkerchief your mother gave you on your wedding day - it still carries a faint bit of your perfume; your daughter's first birthday candle. These are the things we keep to remember. They aren't significant things in themselves - they are ordinary, they are small, they are grubby, they are meaningless except for the importance we put on them.

This is the best I can do to explain why there is a small blue ceramic plate in my bedroom closet that holds a collection of cast off cat whiskers.

I know it's weird. I just can't bring myself to just throw away a lost cat whisker when I find one. I like Shelly Overlook's take on the whisker thing - when she was a little girl, she thought the whiskers were magic. I can get behind something like that. Maybe if I plant the whiskers in a line in our garden I'd harvest a sweet crop of fuzzy kittens.

We are deep in the throws of a new teething push, with the distracted irritability and the sudden slips in mental capacity (mine and hers). When I'm dealing with a particularly hairy day (yesterday: peanut butter sandwich smeared in the hair, on the counter, on the floor - NONE in the mouth) I don't think it would harm us any to have some magic in the house.

Alice had a meltdown at the checkout counter of Joann's yesterday. She was clutching four packs of extra large buttons in her toddler kung fu death grip and was not a fan of having any of her precious items scanned by the Joann's employee. There were tears. And lots of screaming, is what I'm saying. And laughter from everyone else in the checkout line.

I needed magic in that moment. Magic and lots of patience. A few minutes later when I was trying to wrangle Alice into her carseat without disturbing the buttons? That was a treat and a half. Made even more sweet by the other Joann's customers walking by our open car door, listening to me tell Alice, "Yes, I know you love your buttons. I'm not taking them away from you. I just need to get you into your seat. See that? I'm giving the buttons back to you." More screaming. And more laughter from spectators.

A few minutes later there was nothing but silence from the back of the car. Silence and this:



Magic. We need all the magic we can get. I won't be throwing any of those whiskers away anytime soon.

chip dips with bean: the weekend edition

organic cheerio-like cereal bit on the bed... with a side of alice

Friday ended normally enough, when Alice and I came home after running errands, we found Chip sitting on our bed surrounded by little pieces of paper and receipts--- he was doing his weekly expense report for work.

Later we ate dinner, gave Alice a bath, hung out. It was then, when Chip was going to make an evening ice cream run, that he couldn't find his wallet. He'd had it when he was doing his expenses. And just like that, we began WALLET HUNT 2009. Which went through Friday night. And continued to Saturday. And lasted all Saturday. And Sunday. AND A S OF THIS MOMENT, WE STILL HAVEN'T FOUND IT. We're sure it never left the house. We have a sneaking feeling that Alice got her little paws on it and moved it somewhere... else.


. . . . . . .




Part of WALLET HUNT 2009 involved unearthing every nook and the cranniest cranny of the bedroom. Which led to finds like this, the Princess Lea pez dispenser. NOT OWNED BY WHIMSY, btw.


. . . . . . .


Another part of WALLET HUNT 2009 took place when Chip emptied the entire contents of his closet into the bedroom, giving our Bean the perfect opportunity to find a full box of Breath-Right Nose Strips (really). Which she then carried around the bedroom in a toddler kung fu death grip. The nose strips? Her favorite thing. Like, EVER. So favorite, they made their way into her snack cup.



It is very hard work toting around all those nose strips.


. . . . . . .


After too much searching in WALLET SEARCH 2009, Chip and I took a break to watch the X-Files movie, I Want to Believe. If you haven't seen it... um. It's sort of about some doctors doing some stuff in a modern-day version of Frankenstein. You heard it here first. There is also some angsty stuff thrown in with Mulder and Scully.

This from Chip:

Well now, that was just dreamy. I knew they'd have them kiss. It took long enough.


. . . . . . .


After her nap, Alice decided that the nose strips weren't enough anymore, so she traded up.



For Preparation H Travel Pads.


. . . . . . .


We are sitting on the bed after watching X Files. I am petting Fergus and letting him lick my hand. Chip taps me on the shoulder.

Chip: You know, while I was searching your closet today I found a very disturbing... collection.
Whimsy [Looking at Chip, knowing that he is referring to the little handful of cat whiskers that sits in a blue ceramic dish in my closet--- I'll tell you all why later, suffice it to say, it's just a thing, like I love my cats and can't bring myself to throw their discarded whiskers away and don't LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT.]
Chip: [Looks back]
Whimsy: It's just... well, I've told you I keep them. You know I keep them.
Chip: Knowing and SEEING them are two different things. There are more whiskers there than are on both of the cats heads. PUT TOGETHER. It's like you're collecting bits of the cats to create a Fergustein.
Whimsy: [snorting with laughter]
Chip: YOU'RE GOING TO CREATE A FERGUSTEIN, AREN'T YOU? OUT OF WHISKER PARTS!


. . . . . . .


And that's how you spend an entire weekend looking for a wallet. THAT HAS YET TO BE FOUND.



Sillies.




Heading-to-church sillies.




How did you spend YOUR weekend?

weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeds

Yesterday Chip and I scalped our backyard. Scalped in the form of pulling the Whimsy-height weeds that had grown across the width of it during the month of June. Despite my long sleeves, thick red sweatshirt, dusty black sweats, grimy shoes, the blue rubber-tipped gloves on my hands, and the navy blue bandanna on my head - I felt the creepy-crawlies of bugs. And specifically, SPIDERS. In fact, here is where I tell you my own particular brand of Weird Whimsy Logic: Garden Detail. Pulling lawn weeds is something I actually enjoy. It appeals to my own OCD-loving desire to pulls things, remove things, and generally pick. (Last night as Chip and I were watching Deadliest Catch - and don't tell me that you don't watch that show because I know you do even though we all WONDER why we watch that show about crab fishermen in Alaska - so last night? As we're watching Deadliest Catch, and the deckhands are using sledgehammers to remove the inches of thick ice that has formed on the equipment, the wheelhouse, the other... boaty equipment stuff - Chip turns to me and says, I know you well enough to say that you would LOVE doing that job. It appeals to you. And it did. And it does.)

So weeding? I love lawn weeding. It is picking at its finest. But the converse, the deep garden bed weeding? I hate it. H-A-T-E. HATE. The hate is so fiery because it is not picking. It is pulling everything in sight - and especially because the weeds are all smashed up against one another in a deep weedy jungle mass. The type of weeding we were doing yesterday was the HATE kind. And it was especially HATE heightened due to the sheer behemoth size of those suckers. As tall as me, and taller, is what I'm saying. There is something deeply unnatural about a dandelion that has sprouted into some jack and the beanstalk hairy monster, complete with long spiny leaves the size of a MELON. It's just not right. And the bugs? We were talking about the bugs, weren't we? In weeds that are that freakishly big, I have these deep-seated suspicions that the insects have also partaken of the grow-large Koolaid and are hulking beneath a shady head-sized leaf to leap out at me with their over-sized pincers. Shudder. With every weed I pulled yesterday I waited for one of those skittering hamburger-sized spiders to come up and tap me on the shoulder to say HEY LADY WITH THE NAVY BLUE BANDANNA - YOU ARE DESTROYING MY HOOOOOOOME! AND I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE! SO UNLESS YOU PLAN ON PUTTING UP A NEW CONDO COMPLEX IN THIS HERE WEED PATCH, WE'RE ALL MOVING INTO YOUR HOUSE.

Of course, it didn't happen. The conversation, I mean. Instead it was Chip asking me if I'd seen any of the rodent-sized arachnids. And then he lopped off another tree branch. And I pulled another weed. Until there weren't any more to be found.

Scalped, is what I said.

contesting

If you're looking for more WHAT IS THAT game fun, head on over to Eleanor Q's and play - the contest will be up until 8pm central time on June 21.

holes

In case anyone has been keeping track, the official count of me being home and causing harm is 49 hours. I was home 49 hours before I caused household damage. This in the form of a nice FINGER HOLE in the ceiling.

Back in April, before we had the Great Whimsy Flood of 2009 (due to my stellar washing machine loading skills), we had another small leaking incident. This one was from the shower in our master bathroom. There was a crack in the fiberglass and some moisture got into the ceiling above the kitchen. Luckily we noticed it before too much time had passed, and with some quick thinking on Chip's part, we got the ceiling dried out. The one problem was that when we originally noticed the wet spot on the ceiling, Chip was investigating and sort of pushed his finger into the soft sheet rock and made an indentation.

It's been something we knew we needed to fix this summer. It requires painting. And patching.

Yesterday afternoon I was putting some mugs away in a cabinet while Alice was napping. Being a shorty, I was up on a chair - very close to the ceiling. And I looked at the little Chip-finger-indentation area on the ceiling and wanted to make sure it was still nice and dry. So I pushed. With my finger. On the finger-place. And then POP - I pushed my finger right through the ceiling.

There's nothing like making holes in your house. The only topper to that? Telling your husband about it.

It's something we need to fix this summer. It requires painting. And patching. And much less finger-pushing-through-the-ceiling.

Tell me: what's the worst thing you've ever damaged or broken at your house?

mysteries unveiled

Going to my parents' house is not, in fact, going home. It's maybe like going home, but only because my parents are there. They retired to Utah six years ago, leaving behind a very long stint of Southern California living. But don't get me wrong - my parents' place is beautiful and lush, and the perfect place for them. Visiting there is like a nice vacation, even with that stupid bark.

My intention when I took the pictures to play What is THAT was to capture some of the fantastic things that I grew up with - things like THE GIANT KEY, which graced our family room wall for my entire childhood. Sadly, the giant key is nowhere to be found at my parents' house because they left it at the old house.

Luckily, I did find some good stuff that was pretty tricky. So without much more delay, here are the answers:

Mystery Object 1: WOODEN PUSSY WILLOW SCULPTURE THING
I did grow up with this. It hung on the wall outside the pink bathroom. I don't know where it came from, but it's one of those iconic things that I just sort of took for granted. Because who doesn't have a wooden pussy willow and mirror combo hanging in their house, right?




Mystery Object 2: No one got this right, exactly. And then I was stupid and didn't even take a picture of the objects being used in their proper context. D'oh! The silver cans were once upon a time large tall cans that held baby formula (for my 17-year-old niece, I believe). They are now used for baking bread. When mom bakes wheat bread, she bakes it in these cans, resulting in tall round loaves. It's adorable. And funny. And again: something I always took for granted. Do I even have a picture of the round bread? NO. Am stupid.




Mystery Object 3: Drawer pulls. Drawer pulls on this desk, which lives in the purple room. This is the desk that once upon a time lived at Jackie's house, our stand-in grandma who lived across the street. After she and her husband passed away, we received most of their things, including this desk. It will one day be mine. I love this desk. It held Jackie's letters and bills - and whenever I'd go to her house to play, she would reach into the deep confines of this desk to pull out a pad of paper and short little pencils for us to draw with. Bonus picture of THE MARVELOUS BACKPACK.




Mystery Object 4: A FRAMED CROSS-STITCH THAT HANGS IN THE PURPLE ROOM. Made by my fantastic sister-in-law, wife to the Little Brother. That's a square of the original purple carpet that once graced the floor of the purple room.




Mystery Object 5: Another one I really stumped you guys with. This little gem is a table AND a lamp AND a magazine holder! A wonderful little item that my dad made, once upon a time. It now lives in the red, white, and blue room, but throughout my childhood it lived in our family room. There is a stupid little wooden ball on top of the lamp that doesn't screw the lampshade in. According to my mother, it has NEVER screwed the lampshade in. Notice a bit of the unfinished quillo back there hanging on the wall? That would be some of my window-covering handywork.




Mystery Object 6: The infamous door-knocker like thing. Except it's NOT! It's a decoration on my mom's cedar chest. This houses old baby blankets and other heirloom-y items.




Mystery Object 7: HA! What seemed to be Santa Claus, is, in fact, UNCLE SAM! On a very colorful and decorative pillow that naturally lives in the red, white, and blue room.




Mystery Object 8: Perhaps what Chip would consider to be the most disturbing item in my folks' house, THE COW CLOCK. My favorite guess was a life preserver. So awesome. I was impressed that Amanda did actually guess that it belonged to a cow. My most favorite part of this thing? The swinging UDDER, which goes back and forth like a little pendulum.




Bonus Mystery Object: The bag of Mother's Circus Animal cookies I snacked on for two weeks. Mmmmm sprinkles!

Which means that the winner is (and I'm not kidding): ELEANOR Q!!! The lovely EQ guessed five of the objects correctly, and received bonus points for actually identifying the bonus mystery object as not only cookies, but MOTHER'S cookies! Congrats, Eleanor Q!

Thanks to everyone for playing. I took some additional pictures of mystery items at my parents' place - so we might be playing again some time.

miss list

Sleeping in your own bed is a highly under-rated experience. After last night, luxuriating in the comfort of our own very familiar sheets next to my own very familiar husband, I would rate the own-bed experience just under winning the million-dollar lottery. Bliss.

There are things that I'm going to miss about being at my parents' house. Not the least of which is these people:

Mom and

Winston.


There are other things I'm going to miss - things like...

Great photo ops like Men With Shovels, menning it up in the Little Brother's backyard.

Freshly baked homemade bread

Easy access to

A gorgeous backyard

Easy access to a freshly baked baby (HA!)

But most of all, the look of pure contentment on Alice's face. She was surrounded by LOVE. And she knew it.


I won't be missing that bark, though. Not one single bit.

tired.

You have until the end of the day Monday to play What is THAT: the Parent Edition. As I write this, it is Sunday night and I am so tired beyond reason, I am surprised that my fingers are even typing. Before my fingers go off and type something I'll later regret, I'm going to leave this very short.

But first: I mentioned it earlier, but let me say that Alice and I were the youngest people on our plane home today. YOUNGEST. That is because our plane was conveying over one hundred senior citizens from Missouri to their 9-day tour of Western Canada. I heard all about it from my seat neighbors.

Whimsy out.

2:36pm in the car on the way home

So glad to be here.

Plane was FULL, three quarters of it with a retirement tour group out of Missouri. They were very active. And happy. And they loved our Alice.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

10:58am the trip home

Hour plus car ride is behind us.
Smooth airport check in.
Waiting for plane.

Have stopped alice (who happens to have a blueberry stain on her bum) from eating floor crumbs only a dozen times. A good day!

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

what is THAT?: the parent edition

Chip looked at yesterday's post, with all the Lego words, and apparently his thought was THAT GIRL IS BORED. Which: yes... and no. Since we got here, Utah has been blessed (ha ha) with an abundance of rain. Like, rain every day rain. In a thunder and lightening way. In a downpour way. In a there's sun one minute and rain the next way. So we're going a little bit stir crazy.

But it is nice to be spending so much time with mom and Winston, the Little Brother and his Wife, and the LB's tiny baby girl, A. A for adorable, you know.

As I write this, the sun is doing its wonderful sunny thing on the backyard, and I have hopes that Alice and I will spend some time out there today. She's changing so much - even in the last ten days, she has changed so much. Besides the bark eating (which is STILL going on), her vocabulary has just exploded. She is saying mama, daddy, doggie (a version of it, at least), you, moo, bye-bye, hi, uh-oh, up, water, and done. She is making signs for more, hold me, all done, swing, eat/hungry, and milk. It's the most amazing thing, to be able to communicate with her in these small ways. It's like I've been living with a very furry, cuddly, sweet, pooping and crying cat for the last 15 months and suddenly the pet has blossomed into an actual person with likes and dislikes and even an ability to communicate those things. It's as fantastic (and also as crazy) as it sounds. And there's your obvious statement for the day: LIVING WITH A TODDLER IS GREAT! AND ALSO CRAZY! AND SOMETIMES CRAZY-MAKING! What can I say? I'm a giver.

In other news, I don't know if you've ever thought much about it, but the parental house is full of strange and magical things. Things like QUILLOS and ... stuff. Which gives us a unique opportunity for a guessing game, thanks to Eleanor Q (who, by the way, wrote the most hilarious post the other day about the parenting olympics, and really you need to check it out - for it's AWESOMENESS).

Here's how the game works: I'm going to post some pictures of a couple of those strange and mystical objects. And then you all get to guess what they are in the comments. I'll take comments through end of day Monday. The one who comes closest to guessing the objects correctly will win some Mother's cookies, and perhaps I'll throw a little something extra into the package. If you are related to me, you cannot play the game. If you are married to me, you cannot play the game. If you have ever been to my parents' house, you cannot play the game. Sorry folks, I've got to make this fair. And also tip the scales in Eleanor Q's favor. In the event of a tie - or it's just too close to call, mom and Winston will be the final judges, since these ARE their fabulous mystery objects after all.

Go!

Mystery Object 1:



Mystery Object 2 (hint: obviously they are CANS - but you need to identify what the cans are used for - the background is a HUGE giveaway):



Mystery Object 3:



Mystery Object 4:



Mystery Object 5 (hint: obviously from the red/white/blue room - but I don't want you to identify the red/white/blue items, but rather the thing they are sitting on - it is NOT EXACTLY a table):



Mystery Object 6:



Mystery Object 7 (hint: if you're thinking cute/scary/disturbing/adorable Santa Claus doll -depending where you fall on the doll-issue-spectrum- you'd actually be wrong; sort of):



Mystery Object 8:



Bonus Mystery Object:

landing leggily in legolicious land with loopy

I love you guys. I really do. But I've got to say, you're really NOT the choose your own adventure types, are you? I mean, you're given a CHOICE between ONE THING and ANOTHER. And then you actually CHOOSE. ONE THING. Instead, I get this mishmash madness - with a little bit of EVERYTHING? You're a bunch of wackjobs.

Said with love.

And respect.

And kindness.

And, um... well. You know. I guess we meet here because we're all a little crazy and really, if I'm being honest, I should say that I never really got the whole choose-your-own-adventure bit anyway, and wound up starting the book from the back, with each of the different endings, trying to find out exactly HOW a person could GET to the ending with the fiery volcano.

Anyway. Since you simply didn't follow my directions (snort) - I'm not even following my own rules. You don't get cows or seagulls or even the menfolk with them shovels (though really, they're all coming - how can I withhold such brilliance from you? And one other aside, I do believe I'm going to offer Megan MONEY for a picture of Chip with cows, I don't even have that and I'm his wife)--- instead, you're getting this, my further adventures with legos and Alice. Minus the Chip because he had to drive himself off into the sunset on Monday afternoon (there was much moping on my part) so he could go to work. In Montana.

To LEGOLAND.

On Wednesday



and I found ourselves getting ready to



with Legos again. It was awesome. Except for the part where



I mean



wasn't so much in the mood. In fact, she got downright



so it was best to try to give her a



but that was not to be. Alice decided that naps are for the stupid chickens. So there was




Which mad the mama a little




It even affected her spelling. See that there? With the backwards Z?
Good thing Alice put it out of its misery.


Close call.

Tomorrow I am taking a fabulous suggestion from the luminous Eleanor Q and doing a GUESS WHAT THIS IS, the Parents' House Edition. You should be very excited. I know I am.

(Seriously, how badly do you want me back in Seattle, when I am actually a little bit more SANE and not hopped up on homemade cookies and way too much comfort food?)