reasons why

The key is to keep it in perspective, remember what's important, what you're doing and why. To focus on the end result and know that the journey is going to teach you something. As it does. If you let it.

Today was not a bad day. It was not a frustrating day. It was not a terrible day. By any stretch of the imagination.

Today was a day of challenges. A day with a 4am wake up call. A day of shifting gears to make things work. A day of keeping the right attitude in sight and finding the smallest things to bring laughter, to help us know that a sense of humor isn't a luxury. It is a necessity.

Here's the story: while I was in New Mexico, Chip's vibrant 23-year-old cousin was involved in a very terrible motorcycle accident. There was a night of will-he-make-it followed by a morning of we-can't-believe-he-is-still-here which quickly became an evening of things-aren't-looking-good which then turned into the grief we feel when one who was so young leaves us here to contemplate our own mortality. He was an exclamation point, that boy. He was the kind of star that can't help glowing too bright. He will be missed.

So the result for our very small corner of this story is that Bean and I returned from New Mexico Tuesday night, did laundry for most of the day on Wednesday, packed and planned on Thursday, and then made our way onto a 6:30am plane on Friday with Chip. We flew into Boise, Idaho and then rented a car to drive to my parents' house in Utah (a four-hour trip).

We will pay homage to Austin's memory on Saturday.

And this is what I want to tell you - the distance didn't matter. The bone-deep exhaustion and near hysterical state of my own psyche. It's okay. I brushed my teeth the other night with something that was NOT toothpaste (not Desitin, either... but something else and it was awful). I also left a very naughty tube of toothpaste inside my overnight bag that sort of EXPLODED during the plane ride (what is it with you and toothpaste, you want to know). I very likely lost an I-pod Nano somewhere between our house and Logan, Utah. And in place of her normal post-bathtime Aquaphor rubdown, this person here (mother) accidentally and oh-so-carefully applied a generous amount of Aveda hair pomade to Bean's sweet and creamy thighs. In the last 48 hours I have hit my head hard. Twice. Quite frankly, I'm not totally sure what day it is or what time zone we're in. I am about to sleep in the fifth strange bed and bedroom-not-my-own in these many days.

But none of it matters.

We are here together. We are laughing. We are finding joy in these moments that we have right now, whatever they are, however brief.

I got to watch my dad walk hand-in-hand with Alice today.
I got to hold Chip's hand during the plane's take-off.
I got to listen to Bean say her evening prayer with her daddy's help.
I got to eat mom's apple pie and sit with her as she loaded the dishwasher.

M asked me recently how I do what I do. Why I do what I do, what makes it possible. I told her that I ask myself if I'd regret it if I didn't go, and I ask myself if it would make a good memory for Alice.

This thing we call life is so very freakishly brief, even if you're here for 100 years, I dare you to say it was too long. I think I can stand to be a little inconvenienced. For Austin. For Alice. For Chip. For my family. For me.

early morning flying: a lesson

It is best to refrain from putting your daughter's traveling clothes on the floor the night before flying otherwise one of your cats (the fat one, in case you wondered) might throw up on the hoodie.

And your backpack strap.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

you know what they say about a thousand words

We are home.
But not for long.
We fly out to Boise, Idaho on Friday morning.
All of us.
Including Chip.
I'll tell you the story soon.
For now you get pictures.

PLAIN WHITE BOX

Dude. Am actually posting the Plain White Box link via the Crackberry because it is THAT momentous. Go to joybeyondthecross.blogspot.com to enter. Contest ends on Wednesday and one of you eminions better win it.

That is all. Good luck, man.

P.s. Still in NM. On part two of the trip, sans M and Samia. Spending time with Matt, Ana, and Buddy. Home on Tuesday night.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

these things I want to say

I'd like to tell you all about this trip, but it's hard to know exactly what to say. I have stops and starts and do-overs that have repeated in an endless wheel and still I am sitting here, wondering where I should begin.

These are fantastic women, these girls I call my friends. They have met and married some equally fantastic men and have, in turn, begun an entirely new generation of Cream in their children.

We were sitting in our hotel on Wednesday night, doing our level best to scare Samia's lovely Joe right out the door (with the LOUD! and the STORIES! and the HAND GESTURES!). I told him that I realized a while back that the only way any one of us was ever going to meet and marry someone would be if we were sent packing to the far corners of the world. The three of us created an inpenetrable world of laughter and tears and deep conversation that no else could possibly enter.

In some of my deepest darkest moments I have pined for their shoulders to cry on.

In some of my most joyous moments I have wished for their shared happiness.

In some of my quietest moments I have wondered over their thoughts.

And I've missed them.

But life has a way of wiggling through the cracks in our shell and pressing our memories apart until we are left feeling an incredible sense of quiet gratitude for the past we've had - and a yearning for new challenges in our future. This to say that with every year that passes, I have wondered if our friendship would be the same. The miles, the distance, the time, the individual experiences we each have had, the places that we're in at this moment--- these things make us different than we were yesterday.

As this trip rolled closer to me, I worried more over the changes that I feel in my heart more than the memories I once created with these incredible women.

Yesterday we drove down to the Old Mission district in Santa Fe. There was a small dusting of snow falling from the sky as the three of us pushed strollers and talked in that chattering way you do to a small child (Yes, look at the tree! Do you see the car? Do you see the yellow car?). We wandered through stores and around beautiful brown buildings. It was in those moments that I thought about this friendship and what it's weathered so far - the time and distance, the weddings and births, the disagreements, the long talks, the differences in personality. Yes, we are different now. Yes, we have had trouble and challenges in each of our lives that the others could not carry. There have been times when we have driven each other crazy. There have been times when we have made each other mad.

But I know that I could ask them to come to me if I needed them, and they would come. I could ask them for honesty and they would give it to me. I could show them my faults, my failings, my spirit's pale underbelly and they would still love me. Inexplicable, unexplainable, indecipherable, but still - and forever more - constant friends.

bits

This is one of those posts-in-pieces, where nothing makes sense as a whole but there are a lot of little bits that I want to say.

For instance, the other night I had a dream that Courtney Cox was living in a world where everyone looked perfectly normal and human except for their FEET, which looked like Ent Feet. And everyone turned out to be giant-sized which didn't really pose a problem because everyone was big like that. So really, it was exactly like Earth, but bigger (don't ask me how I knew, I just did). Oh and also? People didn't go through the front doors of their houses, they somehow got sucked underneath the doors and then slid up and down these huge conveyer belts inside their houses. So really really - it wasn't exactly like Earth. Not at all.

Something else: we arrived in New Mexico yesterday. We all survived the various treks across country and the rental car driving and toddler wrangling, but due to that, we are all a little worse for wear. I'm not speaking for me and Bean alone, but more along the collective we. We (again with the collective) will be doing what we call taking it easy today and also laying low. Which means that we're not leaving the hotel except to go to the grocery store.

I can tell you this so far about New Mexico: BEAUTIFUL. And more specifically about Santa Fe: I have never seen so many pueblo-buildings in my life. I've seen a pueblo-Target and a pueblo-Les Schwab. I've seen a pueblo-Howard Johnson and you know what? Our hotel is all pueblo'd out. I'm taking pictures for show and tell.

Lastly, there is this sort of SECRET that I've been holding in for a few days and it's killing me, so I'm just going to say it and then we'll discuss details later: THERE HAS BEEN A PLAIN WHITE BOX SIGHTING. I'm not kidding, you guys. The Plain White Box. IS STILL IN CIRCULATION. I got an email from a very nice lady in Minnesota on Saturday night and I couldn't stop SMILING. Then I talked to Chip about it ad nauseum. And then I emailed Swistle. All because I am just so hysterically excited that this thing I started off eighteen months ago is still going. The very nice person who has it is going to post a contest this week WITH PICTURES OF THE BOX. So when she does, I'll let you guys know. Because I want one of you to win it and keep this thing going. (She's also going to tell me where it's been, because one of the box rules was to write your city and state (and country) inside the box lid. I'm excited about this. As you can see.

Now besides the Plain White Box, what are you guys excited about? The Olympics? I'm excited about the darn Olympics. It's like a TICK with me, I just love the Olympics. It happens every time, and I can't get enough of them, especially the more obscure sports. You can bet I will be watching some curling (I like to image how they work out for that sport. Do they scrub gas grills? Or frantically wax floors? Are there special curling work outs and curling shoes? I really want to know.

welcome to the desert flower tour

Yes. We have Official Luggage Tags. It's possible we also have t-shirts.

Thank you for joining us on the 2010 Desert Flower Tour: Cream on a Quest. At this moment, two of the three original members of the Cream Triumverate are winging their way across these United States to converge on Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Please tune in here for all the latest breaking news stories coming out of this, the first Triumverate Reunion in over six years.

granted

If I could dip my finger in moonlight and write this in the midnight blue sky, I'd tell you that I have made wishes since I was small - I have blown eyelashes off of fingertips and closed my eyes at the twinkle of evening's first star. I have held a wishbone and wondered over the possibility. I have stood on tiptoe at the edge of a wishing well, holding my penny with fingers tight and red. I have laid on a worn plaid quilt in the middle of my grandpa's farm on a deep summer night and watched as countless shooting stars filled the sky.

And every wish, every birthday candle and wishbone, every offering to close my eyes and hope--- every single wish--- I wished for you.

birthday wishes

There was the one when I had a Raggedy Ann cake and somehow ended up spilling a whole mess of it on the driveway. And myself. Check out that pantsuit.

There was the one when I got a Baskin Robbins ice cream cake. The round kind that looked like a car. Complete with cookie wheels.

There was the one when I had a party with a bunch of kids from my kindergarten class and Robbie Don't-Remember-His-Last-Name gave me a Big Bird hand beater - where Big Bird's body was the handle (his neck, really) and his legs (!!!) were the beaters.

There was the one when I had a slumber party and we watched Girls Just Want to Have Fun.

There was the one when my sister went into labor and several hours later my very first niece D was born.

There was the one when my parents gave me my first telephone (speaker phone, no less).

There was the one when my roommates made me an amazing breakfast and then we went to a poetry reading.

There was the one when I cried because my then-boyfriend gave me a Crockpot.

There was the one when my friends held this amazing party at their house and we listened to music and ate cake and cookies and I got PRESENTS.

There was the one with all the Minions where we celebrated our January fabulousness and had a huge shindig at Samia's place. I made tiaras for each of the Minions.

There was the one when Chip's parents met up with us at Ivar's and surprised me by bringing a cake.

There was the one when Chip gave me an entire coupon book full of punch cards for things like Chip will clean the entire house and 8 hours of studio time. I cried for the awesomeness.

Then there is this one, this one today. To mark the passing of another year. To ask myself what I'd like to remember and what I'd like to change. To plan my future, envision where I'd like to be next year.

And eat some cake. Birthdays are most definitely for cake.

whimsy, delurked

Want to hear something funny? I'm so ahead of the game, so clued-in to the trends, so in touch with the pulse of the internet, I held Delurking Day a full three days before its actual date. Really. (And let's be clear: you should read that as Whimsy is more than a little out of it and also impatient.)

So Delurking Day is today. When Shelly (kisses to Shelly Huh!) emailed me to let me know that she'd heard the concrete date, my rusty head wheels started creakety creaking to try to come up with something different to do. Since clearly, I already asked you guys to delurk and I'm not about to get all demanding and up in your business about doing it twice in one week. I mean, really.

What I decided to do instead is to talk about the sites where I regularly lurk, and maybe even tell you why. It might be fun. Or tedious. But here goes anyway.

Besides usually lurking on all of your sites (and occasionally delurking myself by commenting), I do some regular lurking at:

Mayfly. Alicia is this lovely artist who sews and cooks and paints and takes gorgeous photos. You'd want to hate her a little bit for being so talented but she's so darn thoughtful and nice, you can't. Instead, I like to drop in on her blog from time to time to see what's she's up to. There's always something good going on over there.

six and a half stitches. Okay. I don't know where to start with six and a half stitches except to say: go there. You won't regret it. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Gorgeous photos of her work (knitted things, sewn things) - and super gorgeous words to go along with.

C Jane. Courtney is adorable. And funny.

Sweet Juniper. I suspect that most of you read here already, but if not, you should check it out. Simultaneously funny, heartfelt, and thought-provoking.

the ugly green chair. True story: this is the first blog I ever read. FIRST. Is it weird that I remember that? Whitney tells this funny little bits and stories about her life. And she has great ideas.

Grosgrain. Wandering Nana told me about Grosgrain, and oh the cuteness. THE SHEER CUTENESS. Plus, a million giveaways and contests if you're interested.

And a few new-for-me craft/art blogs that I'm trying on for size:

angry chicken.

bright and blithe.

Buttons McGee.

curious girl.

As I said, I'm not going to demand a Second Creamery Delurking, but I am going to encourage you to get on out there and delurk on some of your regular reads. If you're not a blogger, I'll state the obvious and tell you that it's incredibly gratifying to hear from people who read your stuff. Even if it's just a hello. Or a punctuation mark. Every(ish) day we'll cast something out to the Great Internet Void and sometimes it can feel exactly like whistling in the dark, like you're putting things on your internet porch and wondering if anyone really is reading. So the delurking? It's nice. Really nice.

Now go have yourself a wonderful day and spread some punctuation out on the internet. (And hey - if you're feeling in the mood, tell me a few of the places YOU like to lurk. I'd like to know.)

i spy with my little eye

Amidst this fantastic fabric.

A Fergus.

Yes, most definitely a Fergus.

He seems a little... irritated.

Or is it just me?

I can't say that I've ever captured the true Fergus Essence like this picture does. Do you SEE the Feline Spockgus? The pointy-eared-don't-touch-me-you-may-only-look-and-by-the-way-WHAT-ARE-YOU-DOING-ON-MY-BED persona that is Fergus? It's all there in this picture.

Let me also tell you that this guy really dodged a bullet yesterday. He and Fat Pants (aka The Phoebus)... We found out that Bean is allergic to cats. Really allergic to cats. But! Because she's grown up with them and isn't showing any allergic symptoms at this point (which the doctor told us he's seen before with infants who are raised around animals), we don't have to get rid of the cats. He said it just like that. If she does start to develop asthma symptoms... we'll talk about it if it happens. But it probably won't. My mom (LOVE YOU MOM) reminded me that the cats aren't getting any younger... and they probably won't be around for much longer... (insert obvious discussion of cat death here).

Anyway! Moving on! To other, much lighter subjects! SOY IS BACK ON THE MENU, DUDES. In limited quantities. Also back on the menu, as long as it's absolutely free of other fishy products: salmon and cod. The peanut allergy, however, has been confirmed: absolute, undeniable, no question about it. But we already knew that. So all in all: EXCELLENT NEWS!

Not that Fergus appreciates that at all.

I think he just wants me to leave him alone.

Except for some belly scratches.

awesome / not awesome - the monday morning edition

So I had this funny post about Fergus ready to go up and it required photos and Blooger (I'm going to KEEP that typo because I am MAD at Blooger so there) - would NOT cooperate and let me upload photos. I tried for two hours and I'm more than a little cranky about it.

Instead, I give you the Monday Morning Edition of Awesome/Not Awesome because we haven't played that in a long while. I encourage you to join along. It's a catchy sort of game. I think.

And so...


Awesome: a brand new laptop from my NOT brand new husband (but we love him just the same and maybe even a smidgen more because: BRAND NEW LAPTOP).

Not Awesome: some very weird issue with Blooger and uploading photos and I have NO IDEA what's going on here so I'm blaming a combination of laptop/Blooger stupidity but it could be entirely Blooger's fault, I just don't know. (Are any of you having trouble uploading photos?) Either way, it's decidedly NOT awesome.



Awesome: on the Sneaky Little Peanut front, we're headed off to see an allergist with Bean this morning. And he's apparently one of the best pediatric allergists in the Northwest. Like, they wrote about him in a magazine.

Not Awesome: having to see an allergist at all. Because, you know, it's not so fun for the little tater tot. Our appointment, we've been told, may last up to two and a half HOURS. That's a lot of hours.



Awesome: it's my birthday week. And I love a good birthday week.

Not Awesome: stupid Blooger with the stupid lack of photo uploading goodness. I have OLD PHOTOS to share with you guys of past birthdays! And doesn't everyone LOVE an old grainy 1970's photo? Well, you won't be seeing anything until I can get this problem worked out. ...Or until I decide to get LESS lazy and just move the pictures to another computer and use that to see if it's a universal Blooger problem or just the lone problem of my lovely! new! shiny! laptop.



Awesome: week two of 30-day shred.

Not Awesome: I want to die.



Awesome: fabric! (See picture down to the right that WAS able to upload to Blooger last night, so hey! That's awesome!)

Not Awesome: there isn't a lot that's NOT about this bullet point except my lack of huge chunks of time to play with said fabric. And that's truly not a big downer when you think about it.



Awesome: YOU. Yes you. You are awesome. To come here each day and visit. To say hello. To share your stories. To tell me that I, little old furry lovable ME*, am awesome. So I unofficially declare, since we're all pictureless here at The Creamery right now, this to be DELURKING DAY. (Look at that little nugget of surprise!) So, you lurkers, you people who read-but-don't-comment, you people who like to hide in the shadows, you people who stop by to skim a post or two but don't feel compelled to comment, I now compel you to comment. With my vastly superior skills, I compel you to just say hi. Delurk. Just for today. If you want to only leave a little punctuation mark, I'm okay with that. Just let us know that you're out there.

And for those of you who feel like you'd like to do more, tell me what's on your Awesome/Not Awesome list. Go!





*name that reference, you Blooger Babes. It's a book that Bean has decided is in the LOVE camp and so I read it far too many times each day to keep my sanity.

to be read in case of emergency

This is how you do it: You worry about the small things you can control, the little bits like what color of socks you're going to wear and what you're going to feed your little girl for lunch. You focus on today, and if that's too much you focus on this hour, this minute, this second that matters to you. Because right now, that's all you have. This second to know that you're alive and you're fed and you're surrounded by what you need. Exactly in this second.

Tomorrow is going to come, God willing. And when it does, you are going to face it with grace. And if you don't? Remind yourself that there will (again, God willing) be a lot of future tomorrows to improve your behavior.

If you're lucky (and you are), you will have friends to count on that will keep you grounded. Friends that will love you and laugh with you. Friends that will tell you every once in a while to CHILL OUT, because we all need that.

Worry about what's staring you in the face right this moment. Worry about the things that you need to do and be and see and know right now. One day you're going to look back on this time. You're going to wonder over the small things that you blew up into giants too numerous and ferocious to face. If you're smart (and you are), you will live to be able to say that you enjoyed the moments when they happened. You will live to be able to say that you stopped to breathe in the beauty when it was there knocking at your door, that you didn't let it pass by without notice because you were too focused on the raging storm far off on the distant horizon.

Sunlight. It's there for us to see. If we look for it.

I say this because I need to hear it as much as anyone else. I spend too much time worrying about the what if's and the what might be's.

There was a moment just after Chip's dad died. I was standing in a cramped waiting room, having rushed myself from the hospital room where Chip was still standing. I felt overcome by a kind of hysterical quiet panic that I wouldn't wish on anyone, ever. I paced and worried, my nine-month-pregnant belly brushing the table as I passed, talking to my mom on the phone. My whole body shook as I told her, "Mom, I can't do this. I don't think I can do... this. I just can't. I'm not equipped for it. I'm not grown up enough. I just..."

And she broke in, stopped me flat. This edge of steely reason in her voice as she told me that I could do it. That I had no choice. That this is what we do. We take care of each other. We grow up when we don't think we can. We make the hard choices. We put one foot in front of the other when we don't think we can even crawl. This is what we do.

She was right. We know she was right. I haven't faced nearly as many experiences with the grace and faith that I should have, that I would have liked. But this is what we do: we go on, we make it work, we look forward.

Always.

i'm just really stressed about the bake sale* (now with pictorial evidence)

Oh HAI! We need to talk about poop.

It would seem that I've left you guys hanging on a number of Very Important Items the last couple of weeks. And I'm all about the follow-up, you know.

First: The Doughnuts.

Picture NOW shown above... even though it doesn't do the doughnuts justice and was the reason why I didn't post it with the entry in the first place. There's the purple one in the front of the photo that was the, um, grape flavored one. Which wasn't exactly to my choosing. Though Chip loved it. I loved the chocolate donut with the Cocoa Puffs (so chocolatey). I also loved the raised donut with vanilla icing and the Captain Crunch with Crunch Berries (so very weird, and also so very good). A note about the cereal topping: because it's something that is basically made to absorb moisture (aka milk), the cereal bits tend to get a little... soft... if they aren't consumed immediately. Final verdict for the doughnuts: we ate every single one, even though some were very well past their prime in the few days after purchase date. Winners, all. We will be sampling them again.



Second: The Muffin / Cupcake Debate.

I know, right? I still can't figure it out, and Swistle articulated it perfectly when she said that one is tempted to say that cupcakes have frosting - but then what about the crumble topping, which is basically a DRY form of frosting? A very perplexing thing.



Third: Delurking Day.

I still haven't been able to nail down the date for 2010. It was January 10 in 2008 and January 12 in 2009... so it would follow that the 2010 date would be sometime soon? I have no idea. I'm not sure why I'm so fixated on doing a Delurk Day on the actual Delurking Day. I mean, I can just say TODAY IS DELURK DAY and get the same type of results I'd get if I'm tagging on to some kind of national thing. So, yes. Am strangely irritated that I can't find an answer to this question. Someone needs to start a website and just tell everyone when the day is. Yes, that's it. And now I'm going to stop obsessing about it.




Fourth: Let's Discuss Poop.

I think we've won Chip over and convinced him to go with the old stand-bys: poop and pee, with the fun and playful poops and peeps (thanks Shelly!) thrown in just for kicks. It's too late to introduce another word for it anyway: Bean was standing in the bathroom yesterday afternoon holding her stuffed Elmo when she told me that Elmo needed to poop. So she didn't say that. Exactly. What she said was this: "Elmo? Poop?" When I weirdly nodded and told her, "Uh, no. He's fine", she said (in caps)
"ELMO! POOP!"

So I did what millions of well-intentioned and totally ill-equipped parents have done before me. I awkwardly took Elmo and sort of sat him on top of the toilet seat COVER (NOT SEAT - I AM NOT AN ANIMAL AND I'M MARRIED TO A GUY WITH GERM ISSUES). So I sat Elmo on the seat and then (gulp) made some shhhhh noises as Bean looked on very expectantly. Afterwards, we, um, wiped Elmo and then said ALL DONE.

I was horrified.

And also strangely proud. We're on our way, Internets.




Fifth: Can we talk about Glee and how I love it so?

I didn't do the Sundry quiz this year, but it's the one question I regret not being able to answer so I'm answering it here. Last year I watched Battlestar Gallactica, but with that gone the way of the Cylons--- my 2009 television crush is definitely Glee. And Community, which makes Chip and I laugh until milk and Oreos come out of our noses. Metaphorically speaking, of course (or not).


Whimsy out.

* I blame the 2-hour Glee marathons on Wednesdays for THIS kind of entry greeting you on Thursday morning. You're welcome.

whatchamacallit, part two (or let's say Number Two)

She doesn't know it yet, but Bean has her own New Year's resolution. It involves Ye Olde, as they say... Potty.

I read some stuff about it a few weeks ago and approached Chip with the following.

Whimsy: The book says we should start talking about bathroom-related junk now.

Chip: What?

Whimsy: The book. It says we should start to talk about the fact that everyone poops. Or whatever. And get Bean used to that fact. Oh, and we also need to come up with terms for things. So we use the same words for stuff.

Chip: Like?

Whimsy: The POOP. We need to decide what we're going to call it.

Which is when we got into one of the strangest discussions I've ever had. In my life. EVER. And I'm someone who has had some very strange discussions with people.

My findings from that discussion show that we are so far from being ready to potty train--- not because Bean isn't ready (I think she's getting close), but because WE, the Parents. Are not ready.

We can't agree on names for things.

Chip has a problem with using POO for the term because he likes to use it frequently as his own brand of g-rated swear word (Chip putting together the new office chair: POO!). He also nixed POOP and even my suggestion of POOPS from our options.

Whimsy will not refer to the act as defication (I don't care that it's correct. Or whatever. It just sounds awful. And by the way, under no circumstance do I want my daughter to tell her Sunday School teacher that she has to go DEFICATE.) Whimsy will not use ephamisms like tinkle, make water, or any combination thereof. Whimsy refuses to number any bathroom act with Number One, Number Two, Number Twenty or Number Ninty-Nine. Whimsy has struck CACA, DOODOO, and DO YOUR BUSINESS entirely off the Whimsy Household Vocabulary List. And while we're at it, there is also no option under heaven to have Bean ever use BM as a verb or noun. Ever.

Where does that leave us? With NOTHING. No words for the act, the carnage, or anything bathroom related.

I'm looking to you, Internets, to shed some light on this very murky matter. What do (or did) you call it? Are there any words that you just HATE? Please discuss.

ringing in the new year with the whimsy's

We tagged along with Chip last week on a trip to Portland. While there, Bean picked up a nice virus-y thing. With the extra benefit of MUCOUS. Which is funny because I'd been telling myself that all I wanted for the new year was a bunch of green mucous. Don't let anyone tell you that wishes don't come true.

Also while there, we stopped at the Portland Ikea which had the cutest children's bedding (always thinking of the future, that's me) and a 2-month-old Target. Yes, A BRAND NEW TARGET. Here's me telling Chip that we need to spend more time walking the aisles.
Whimsy: We need to spend more time walking the aisles.

Chip: But we have Targets at home.

Whimsy: But none of them are NEW like this!

Chip: And???

Whimsy: They put BETTER STUFF at a new Target. I PROMISE YOU.

Chip: *sigh*, *pushes cart forward to begin the arduous task of walking the aisles*

Whimsy: I love you.

But my favorite moment of the entire trip, better than staying up until the dreadfully late hour of ELEVEN-THIRTY on New Year's Eve; better than loading up on free Embassey Suite's breakfast; better than watching Chip ask a nine-year-old boy if he was going to be partying it up for New Year's Eve; better than watching the kid's face as he formulated his resounding NO (lips said NO, face said WHO ARE YOU OLD MAN); even better than having Bean say goodbye to every single person we passed as we left Friday morning's breakfast buffet. Even better than all that--- my favorite moment of the week was standing in line in the pouring rain for forty-five minutes at Portland's own Voodoo Doughnut.

They were having a wedding inside at the time, and they only had the little walk-up window open. And everyone in the surrouding area was (apparently) buying Voodoo Doughnuts.

We had borrowed an umbrella from the concierge, so we cowered there against the building, umbrella in hand - trying our best to keep Bean covered in her stroller.

She slept, holding her favorite travelling companion, Tray.

We got really, really, really wet.

And then we got a box of donuts.

Donuts covered in things like Fun Dip (there was a purple one). And Fruit Loops. And Cocoa Puffs. There was also a maple cinnamon sugar donut. Delicious.

And enough sugar to last me well into February.

We heard talk later of a bacon maple bar, but sadly missed out. There will be another trip sometime in our future. I'm thinking February. I've got to let my system rest. For a little while, at least.

But the fun wasn't in the donuts. It was in the experience, the adventure, the cheesey-grinned excitement of doing something weird and goofy, just the three of us.

this is what happens when you eat cake for breakfast

A couple of weeks ago I left Bean sitting in her chair eating breakfast (read: pumpkin CAKE --- I was going to say a pumpkin muffin, but let's be honest, it was clearly CAKE, despite its crumbly topping and muffin-like appearance; which makes me wonder, when does a muffin cross over into cupcake territory and when does a cupcake tumble into muffinland? Where oh where is the line betwixt them?) while I went to clean out the cat box. I was going to say "while I went outside to clean out the cat box" but then I realized that you wouldn't understand that reference, since we have indoor-only cats and why the heck is their box outside? The answer is that the cat box is in our garage because it -the box- is accessed through a little cutaway door in the wall. Cats go through door in wall to reach their bathroom facilities which is kept in its own little wooden box. Basically, the cats can get to the litter box without braving the Wilderland of Garage and we don't have to deal with their box anywhere inside the house. It's actually the feature that sold us the house. And really, I probably didn't need to go into that much detail because I fixed the initial sentence that would have sent me into this aside in the first place. Oh well.

Let's review. Bean: inside house, consuming copious amounts of pumpkin CAKE for breakfast. Whimsy: standing in the 30-degree garage hunched over the terrible remnants of a Litter Box Gone Wrong. Let's join Whimsy as she tries to shovel the first bits of Cat Nasty into a bag.

Whimsy is thinking about poo. Who wouldn't be thinking about poo at a time like this, is what Whimsy's narrator is thinking. Poo, poo, poo. Cat poo is terrible stuff, thinks Whimsy. Bet I couldn't write about that in the blog. (TOO LATE, says Whimsy's narrator.) Looking at this poo, thinks Whimsy, it seems sorta... big for a cat. Like if this were the same width ratio in human poo it would be terribly painful to... Whimsy stops herself, knowing she is going to A VERY BAD PLACE. Now Whimsy is wondering about Possible Blog Topics That Will Result in the Very Worst Google Searches. She thinks that cat poo (and particularly the size of cat poo) is up toward the top of that list. Which makes her then think about the most common Google search that links to The Creamery: Star Wars onesie. Which is closely followed by Padawan onesie. Whimsy's narrator breaks in to voice the reader's question, which is, naturally, WHY THE HECK WOULD THAT LINK TO THE CREAMERY? Whimsy's narrator answers your question with this link to a very old post. Now Whimsy is thinking about all those people who come to The Creamery looking for some serious Star Wars swag and leave horribly disappointed. Which leads Whimsy to think about that fact that she never hears from those folks, and while we're on the subject, she thinks about some of the people who visit The Creamery for other reasons who also never comment. She knows they are out there. Which leads Whimsy to wonder about Delurking Day. Hmmmm, she wonders, when is that coming up? She makes a mental note to ask someone about it. Which is when she hears Bean making a racket, wondering when Whimsy is going to come back inside and give her some more CAKE.

So Whimsy finishes her job and goes back inside to give Bean more cake. She washes her hands first.
As would you, thinks Whimsy's narrator, especially after all that poo.