For when you don't want to use your vocal chords to introduce yourself

Nunya cards.

These cards are for those folks who possess a sense of humor about themselves and who also like to define themselves in ways other than the norm. These cards are for people who like to carry around little rectangles of heavy paper. These cards are for people who like to give those papery rectangles to other people.

They kinda remind me of the magician/comedian we met at my sister-in-law's birthday party. He gave out business cards, which had on them his name, followed by "Magician. Comedian. Person." I still have the card because it gives me a good laugh.

If I got a package of these beauties, I might have to put on it:

Shoebox Princess
Cookies required

or

Shoebox Princess
Breather of a gaseous mixture of 78.05% nitrogen, 20.95% oxygen, and <1% other assorted gases

or

Shoebox Princess
I like shoes. A lot.

or

Shoebox Princess
I live in a shoebox castle

What would you put on a Nunya card?

And no, I wasn't paid to promote Nunya cards. I just happen to know the person who designs them and I think she deserves some free advertising. I met her once and we went to a movie at a science museum and then we wandered around the Portland Whole Foods. And she has a cute baby.

Fun stuff that happened last minute

Yesterday afternoon, we got notice that Jim's brother-in-law Will was in town for a day. He drives a truck all across the country and he had a load to deliver in St. Paul.

Jim invited Will and his driving partner James to come over for for dinner. We couldn't not have them over! Unfortunately for me, I had a seminary kick-off to attend (and at which I had to present some items, since I'm one of the teachers), so I couldn't be there to help get the house or the dinner ready. But Jim was more than capable and he grilled burgers and brats.

I got home from church just in time for dinner to start and for the handle on the deck door to fall off. Will helped Jim fix the door handle--thanks Will! We had a good dinner and conversed about family and plans and all kinds of stuff. They didn't stay much longer after dinner because they'd been on the road for days and days and wanted to get some sleep before the delivery this morning.

We don't get to see anyone from Jim's family very often, so this was a great surprise to see Will. If any other members of Jim's family happen to drive through Minnesota, let us know! We'd love to see you!

Head to Toe

A long long time ago at an elementary school about 25 miles from here, I busted up my left big toe somethin' fierce. The story is legendary among people that are me, so I won't go into it here. Suffice to say that it took the whole summer to heal and it was all my fault, not Jason's. Lesson I learned: Pay attention to the teacher, not to your neighbor who you think isn't doing what he is supposed to be doing. And don't get all self-righteous on your neighbor. Toes get broken, even smashed, as a result.

And now this same toe, thirty years later, is starting to give me fits. As in today marks the third time in the last few months that a blood vessel (perhaps the very same one because it always occurs in the same place) in this toe has broken for unknown reasons. I was sitting in church, minding lots of people's business--particularly Jim's business of making sure my back was being rubbed--JUST SITTING THERE, when I felt an odd but familiar pressure on the underside of my big toe. When I got home, the bruising had already started.

What is the deal, Left Big Toe? Is there a bone shard from the ancient injury that is slicing open some capillary on a regular basis? Or are my veins just naturally fragile? Or have you developed a mean temper that causes you to break things like blood vessels when you are angry? And why the heck would you, as my Left Big Toe, be angry? (Besides the fact that I should lose a couple pounds)

*shakes fist at Left Big Toe*

For Jenni, who complained that a picture was not adequately labeled.

There. I've done all the work for you, Jenni.

Over the river and through the woods...

a-cross-country running we go!

Well, Paul goes. I stood and watched. And took the occasional picture.

It was time trial day for the high school cross country running team. If you are a regular reader of this blog, you have already seen over the last two years a multitude of pictures of Paul running, but since that's the only thing that's going on around here, you gotta look at some more.

Here is a picture of the beginning of the race. Paul is fifth from the left. Take a good look at this picture. Compare it to the picture I took of the boys at the halfway point.
The halfway point (Paul is the one on the right. No he's not in first. The guy in first was several seconds ahead):
Did you compare? Did you notice a difference in the runners?

Yep, most of them at some point shed their shirts. We parents were standing at a corner a few hundred yards into the race and all of a sudden, the mass of boys underwent a group molting. It was almost dance-like in movement. And after the boys passed, it looked like Woodstock had taken place right there. There were shirts everywhere on the ground. Some parents were nice and picked up the shirt that belonged to their sons. I was mean and left Paul's on the ground for him to pick up later. If he wants to chuck stuff on the ground, he has to pick it up.

Here he is at the end of the race, in second place.

He made varsity for the third year in a row. Woohoo!

WORK!

After being rejected by many major department stores (I've come to the conclusion that they believed I was too smart to work for them), I was hired on yesterday by the school district's childcare program. I get to work at the closest building to my house that is not a residence or a former Knights of Columbus Hall that is now a church or a city Parks and Rec building. I will work in the mornings for two hours at the local elementary school as one of a team that watches elementary age children before school starts.

It's only two hours a day, but I get a very decent hourly wage, which makes it almost as lucrative as babysitting one child in my own home. I will also be on the sub list for the afternoon shifts in the same program around the district.

I'm kind of glad to ease my way back into the workforce: I'm doing something that I've done for many years, and I have a regular schedule that doesn't interfere (yet) with my own children's after school schedule. And I'm not at the school all day long. I've got my foot in the door at the district.

I start on the 7th of September. Next Thursday, I have an orientation meeting and...the best part....I GET A BADGE. Whee! I've always been jealous of Jim because he has a nifty badge that gets him into his office. Other Jim even has a badge for his big-box-store job! And I'm sure Kate has a badge for her job. Now I get one!

(I'm not really that excited about a badge)

Another summer activity with my kids

This time, specifically with my boys.

Get this: we (and by "we" I mean "the boys and I, but mostly the boys") are going to CLEAN THEIR ROOM! My part is going to be mostly saying "Are you sure you need to keep that? Really? Like five years from now you are going to wish you kept that box of cardboard cereal box cut-outs? No. Really. You are NOT keeping that."

Woohoo!

It hasn't been cleaned since the Great Room Switch and I'm sure the dust bunnies have multiplied beyond my mind's capacity to comprehend. That and there are ants on the floor.

Beaching

It's nearly the end of August and I haven't done many fun things with the kids. Some of them, because of their advanced age, don't care. I wouldn't care much either because I am not of the mind that a mother (at least this mother) has to provide constant entertainment for her children. But I do like going to the beach, and I've missed that this summer. So we went. And I brought the camera along in hopes of taking pictures of my cute little kids playing in the sand with saggy diapers. Too bad I don't have any cute little kids with saggy diapers who play in the sand anymore. I had to settle for taking pictures of a teenager and a pre-adolescent, both of whom don't do "cute" things anymore.

They either stand there silently criticizing the general populace with a faint smirk of self-righteousness:

Or they blow raspberries at their parents:
And then they torment each other with games like "I'm going to attack you and you're going to scream like a little baby."

Fun with older non-cute kids. I ignored them and read a book. When I did go in the water, they made fun of me because I wore my sunglasses into the water. Hayley said "Those don't make very good goggles." Then they splashed me with water and called me a baby for not dunking my head right away. I had to gradually get used to the coldness of the water.

I'm going back to not taking them places. Less fun is made of me that way.*

*not really. I had a good time and they did too. I swam and read my book and they paddled around in the water.

Hot cross buns

The summer is almost over and I haven't gotten out to the lake once! Hopefully I'll rectify that this afternoon. But I have to exercise and go grocery shopping first.

And yes, this is a very short post.

Absolutely nothing!

Although that's not quite true. I do have a towel on my head, which usually brings out the deep thoughts (which is why I try not to have a towel on my head for very long. Deep thoughts are tiring).

I've just made a tuna pasta salad. But while I love me some tuna salad with peas, celery, purple onion, Hellman's Light Mayo, Lawry's salt, and dill, tuna is not a food to be dealt with in the morning, unless you are a cat. Then it's like cake, which a body can tolerate at any time of the day.

So now I smell like fish, and I have to go to a cross country picnic (the running season starts soon for Paulie) smelling like I've been digging around on a whaling vessel (or, if you're Chekov from Star Trek, a valing wessel. I kill me)

And speaking of killing myself with laughter, I almost died yesterday (in a similarly figurative way. Not literally) because I took three teenagers shopping for clothes. Paul and Hayley were fine. They spotted things they liked and spent five minutes trying the items on and were done with it. Other Jim, on the other hand (HA) took FOR. EVER. Back when he was in junior high, all he wanted were shirts with one stripe across the chest. That's all he would wear on his upper body. Then in early high school, he changed to t-shirts with funny sayings on them. Then in later high school, he switched to polo shirts exclusively (and not just any kind. He wanted plain dark colors in a certain fabric). So yesterday when we were at Kohl's, I kept trying to interest him in polo shirts. But he would have none of them. He finally decided that now he is a short sleeve, button-up shirt with a plain grey or black t-shirt underneath guy now. And he had to try them all on, and they had to be just the right feel of fabric (tending towards dressy). Then when I tried to muscle him over to the shoes (cuz his are falling apart), he had to make a side trip through the suits. I barked at him vociferously. I've nearly had it with him and suits. And the shoes were no picnic either. I picked out dozens of shoes for myself, tried them on, etc all in the time he took to find ONE pair of tennis shoes.

When we FINALLY got home, I laid myself down on my bed fully expecting to wake up in the arms of eternity after having to spend half my life in the men's department at Kohl's.

Alas, I was still among the living when I woke up, but it was dinner time and I was still beat, so we had pizza. I love Jim's second job.

Time to remove the towel.

Nature that is pretty is also awesome!

This morning when I woke up, I thought to myself that if Albert doesn't come out of his chrysalis today, I was gonna chuck his obviously dead carcass off the deck. He's no good to me if he stays in his room forever. When I went to check on him, I was mightily pleased, for he was not the brown and tan color he was of the past week, but a definite black. And I could see that there was some air pockets between Albert and his former skin around the tip of his back end. And I saw him spasm a couple of times. For the next hour and a half, I watched the chrysalis. I saw only a couple twitches, so I thought he'd be a long time emerging. I decided to keep myself busy with wiping down a few counters. With back turned on Albert, I set to work. He must have been embarrassed while I was watching him because he came out when my back was turned. I swear I had only taken my eyes off him for 10 minutes! And this is what I found when I checked on him:Crumpled wings and a desire to be upside down.

I let him climb on a spongy paintbrush so he could air out his wings and get his butterfly blood pumping into them. I watched over him for the next hour. I woke the kids so they could see. All were interested (for about 5 minutes).

Here is the underside of Albert's wings:
Very pretty, no?

And here is Albert, just moments before he flew the coop.

He's off on his own now, hopefully looking for that special someone that will love him (for a few minutes) and, with him, populate the world with a few more Black Swallowtails.

PS. After a google search, I do believe that Albert should have been named Alberta. I hope she didn't take it personally that I couldn't tell that she was a girl.

Drumoll please!

Albert is out!

I'll replace this post later with a longer post with pictures. Currently Albert is unfurling his wings while hanging onto a spongy paintbrush that I am holding.

There are ten apps for that

I don't have one of those phones where you can get all kinds of cool apps. I don't have a data sharing plan that lets me browse the internet on my phone. I don't really need all that stuff. Mostly I use my phone for asking Paul where he is, what time will Jimmy be home, and telling Katie that so-and-so got kicked off "The Next Food Network Star." (We were both sad that Aarti won. I liked Herb better.)

But when my brother Mike whipped out his phone to activate his cricket app (the sound of awkward silence) when my mom told a joke (he was layering his joke on top of her joke), I started to think I wanted app capabilities.

These are the applications I would be interested in:

1. An app to tell me when critical food items in the fridge are running out (heaven forbid I should actually open the fridge to check for myself or that anyone in the family would tell me that they just used the last of the milk, eggs, or bread).

2. An app that will point out the exact location of the itch in the middle of my back so Jim can get to it without a lot of wiggling around and telling him, "No left, down, more left, oops too far, now up, arg arg arg you're not getting it!" on my part .

3. One that will tell me before I go downstairs if the cats have thrown up overnight. I hate it when my feet are surprised.

4. A klaxon app that will alert me when I'm about to overstep my calorie consumption boundaries.

5. And a side app to silence the klaxon app so I can eat the second piece of cake anyway.

6. An app that will diagnose mysterious bruises that appear on my left big toe. Just got another one last night and I have no idea why the blood vessel burst. Could it be related to the disaster that happened on the last day of sixth grade when I dropped a soccer pole on my toe and smashed it to bits? I need that app to tell me!

7. An app that will warn me when I'm about to spill food on my shirt. On second thought, maybe not. It would be in a constant state of alert.

8. An app to tell me the location of the nearest drinking fountain that supplies COLD water. I hate lukewarm water.

9. An app that will provide a way for me to exit awkward situations without undue embarrassment for either party.

10. A cattle prod app that I can use on the children when they are annoying me or when they aren't doing their jobs.

What kind of apps would you like to have?

La Quinceañera

I'd do this whole post in Spanish, but you don't read Spanish, do you? My brothers might, but they aren't here. And all they'd do, if I wrote it in Spanish, would be to point out my many and egregious mistakes. Nevertheless, I will write a little bit in Spanish. Brothers, hold your criticisms til the very end. Submit any error reports in triplicate using bullet points and please reference all mistakes by quotation so I know what to revise. Keep your laughter to yourselves.

Buckle up your eyes, for I have many pictures to share with you. Skip the boring ones if you want.

I just uploaded the pictures I want on here and DANG there are a lot of them. I don't blame you if you fall asleep halfway through them.

Ok. Here is the family table at the head of the room (for those of you who are LDS, the room should be very recognizable). The chambelan de honor sits next to the quinceanera (when she's done getting her food) for the dinner portion of the fiesta. (This is the only picture I labeled) (The food was excellent) (You should be jealous)
Dos hermanos y una hermana del chambelan de honor esperan en la línea para el alimento. Matt and Hayley argue with their eyes about something. Paul knows he's being photographed and yet manages an easy smile.

El padre del chambelan de honor:
(Él es muy apuesto) (especialmente en un traje)

La Quinceañera y el chambelan de honor

La torta
Another picture of Jim. I couldn't resist.
After the dinner, there was a short program. The quinceañera tradition symbolizes a girl's transition into womanhood. There is a Catholic service that goes with it, but since the quinceañera, Edna, is LDS, there was no renewal of baptismal vows like in the Catholic tradition (We Mormons renew our baptismal covenants every week on Sunday when we take of the Sacrament).

Edna's mother emceed the program and gave us a little explanation of the tradition of the quinceañera. Apparently, it has its earliest roots in Aztec tradition when a girl wasn't considered a full member of the tribe until she was 15 (I think that was the explanation). So here is my pictorial on the tradition.First we sang a Mexican birthday song to Edna as she stood in the middle of the gym.(Edna is actually 17 and her birthday was in Feb. But her mother said better late than never)

Then her father presented her with a tiara symbolizing that she is a princess in the eyes of God and her parents.

Edna with her tiara
Then the damas (female attendants) were introduced one by one and they joined Edna on the dance floor. They were supposed to dance by themselves, but the most movement they could muster was to sway gently back and forth. Edna swished her dress around. It was the perfect dress for swishing.
Then the chambelans (escorts for the damas) were introduced one by one. Each one danced a minute or two with Edna and then went to dance with the dama they were assigned to.
After dancing with the chambelans, the quinceañera dances one last time with her father. Her dad must have said something funny or embarrassing. He was a very nice guy. It is from him that Edna got her Mexican heritage.
Then her father handed her off to the chambelan de honor (Other Jim) symbolizing the passage from girlhood to womanhood. The chambelan symbolizes the kind of man she wants to marry someday.
Then the quinceañera and the chambelan de honor dance for a while in the traditional waltz. Yes, OJ waltzed. He went to many practices with Edna. Here he gives Edna a twirl:
Edna and OJ And then after that, it was a dancing free-for-all.
Two of the chambelans had a good time busting out their moves.
Matt contemplated not talking.
Poor Hayley! She wore an Asian-themed dress to a Latina celebration!
Paul texted his friend asking him to come over and hang out. Paul didn't interact with any of the teenagers until this friend of his that he texted showed up. His friend knew most of the teenagers there and introduced Paul around and Paul had instant friends.

We stayed overnight in Rochester and came back this morning. It was fun to take part in this kind of cultural event! We were so glad that Edna invited us.

Pupation

I love having carrots in the garden. They are relatively easy to grow (the only bad part is thinning them a week or two after they sprout. It's back-breaking labor and I usually squish one row as I'm thinning another). But the best part is that sometimes I get these in my carrots:I found this guy/gal a little over a week ago. We fed him/her many carrot leaves. He/she even escaped the jar once but didn't go very far.

Last Saturday, the caterpillar finally pooped out (literally), climbed up on the stick I placed in the habitat (jar), and he apostrophized.

He/She (Argh. I hate not knowing the gender. From now on, it's a "he" named Albert)--Albert--stayed like this for a day. He'd twitch when jostled, but that's about it. I wondered if he'd died because I couldn't remember how long these caterpillars stayed punctuated before they went to this:
But Albert reminded me it only takes a day. We went to bed with Albert being a brightly colored punctuation mark on Saturday, and on Sunday morning, he was a brown nodule hanging off his little stick.

The Biology lesson for today will be a labeling of chrysalis parts. A) future butterfly head with antenna bumps
B) loop of caterpillar secretion that dried into a pretty tough thread that holds Albert in place while he is without use of all of his limbs
C) future butterfly wings.
D) future butterfly body
E) jet pack (in case the wings don't work)
F) crumb on my kitchen counter

I'm hoping that Albert is done metamorphisizing in a few days. From my previous dealings with this kind of creature (the black swallowtail butterfly), this stage lasts 7 to 10 days. So anytime between Sunday and Wednesday, Albert will have finished his makeover and will be ready to wow the world (or at least me). Go Albert!

PS. In non-Albert related news, I finally finished my Personal History class. My grade posted yesterday: A. Yay!

Peek-a-BOO

Someday these will be orange and sitting on my front porch. I can't wait!

Skirting the issue

I need more skirts if I'm going to teach seminary. And skirts or dresses in my size are hard to find in stores.

While I was out in Wisconsin last week, Jen and I stopped by a fabric store and we both purchased some knit fabric so we can make skirts and be twins. We started cutting out and sewing while I was still in Wisconsin because I knew if I took the material home without having done anything to it, it would sit there staring at the ceiling in my sewing room while time raced by in great big chunks.

We picked an easy style to sew up and one that is flattering on any shape--A-line--and without a pattern, we cut.

We didn't finish them while I was there because she had no black cone thread and we had to go to church, so I took the skirt home to finish it. And I did!

It's a very comfortable skirt.

I am morally obligated to post today

And I'm happy to do it because OJ is EIGHTEEN.
I can't quite reconcile that little boy with the young man that he has become.


This is his cake. We had his birthday dinner and cake last night (even though OJ's birthday is actually today) because he works tonight. Yes, he is officially an adult, as evidenced by him NOT complaining that he has to work on his birthday.
Other Jim wanted a reference to his future at college on his cake, hence the BYUI. I realize the blue is too light, but I ran out of blue food coloring and didn't have time to get more. I like working with fondant (even though it's nasty-tasting). It's not as scary or difficult as I thought it would be.

This afternoon Jim and I will be taking OJ to his restaurant of choice for our traditional birthday date with the birthday child. OJ picked Chipotle. Then we will be picking up OJ's birthday/graduation present at Best Buy--a laptop for college. OJ and I picked it out yesterday. He's excited. I paid with cash. I am pleased with myself for saving my money little by little for TWO WHOLE YEARS so that we could help him out this way. I didn't borrow from the stash, and I didn't quit putting money in it. I've already started the stash for Paul. Two years is not that long.

Anyway, happy birthday to my oldest boy! He'll be ordained an elder tomorrow!

Womanicures

That's what it should be at least. I don't know many men who have their nails done.

ANYWAY.

In preparation for the bank teller interview last week, I had a manicure including acrylic nails for the second time in my life. Normally my nails are a shoddy mess because they are thin and brittle so they break and flake and rip all the time. I did manage to grow them out a couple of times and I discovered also that my nails curve and bend in a most unattractive way. (we will not even be discussing my toenails. You are not prepared for such hideousness. Especially of the kind presented by my pinky toenails) So for a situation where I have to look my best, my natural best is best covered up.

So we have fake nails.

Why is it that whenever I have fake nails, my body breaks out into continuous itching? These acrylic nails SUCK at satisfying any kind of itch. It's like trying to scratch something with the edge of a ceramic dinner plate.

So for today's post, I have a list of ten things I have been using to scratch my itches (and my whole lower legs are a mass of mosquito bites so I've always got some kind of implement in my fashionable yet completely useless fingers):

1. Pen caps
2. Mechanical pencils (with the graphite leads retracted so I don't write on myself)
3. Credit cards
4. Jim's fingernails
5. Very small rocks (movie reference!) (but not this rock)
6. Forks
7. Wire brushes
8. The metal edge of the roll-out keyboard shelf on the desk
9. The metal parts of USB ports
10. Scissors--seriously. I scrape the blade across the affected skin. Yes, I look like I have road rash, but I'd rather sting from a scrape than be tormented by constant itching that cannot be relieved.

Lots o' pictures

So I'm delinquent in posting pictures of our trip to visit Mike and Jen. My reasons for the procrastination are as follows:

1. I have mosquito bites all over my legs and ankles and they itch like CRAZY. I feel like stabbing my shins with the scissors (or any other sharp implement) so they will be just merely incredibly painful instead of tormentingly itchy.
2. Frustration with the job search. I was declined for the bank teller job. So I had to sit and stew about that for a day or two.
3. Driving the kids around

Here is the main reason I wanted to visit Mike and Jen: Vi is a darling. Jen tried to pretend that UV was not a nice baby so that I wouldn't steal her. I don't believe a word Jen said about UV crying or not wanting to wean (Jen pretended the whole weekend that Vi wanted to nurse to try to make me believe Vi couldn't leave her mother).

It's GIANT BABY and Mike the Strongman!

We went to the Jelly Belly factory. Hayley asked about it even before we left Minnesota. She said that she's been out to Wisconsin three times and each time she's been promised a trip to the Jelly Belly place and we still hadn't gone. So we made sure we went this time. See Jen's blog post for pictures of the inside of the factory and me wearing a dorky paper hat.

This picture is for Katie:
Another highlight of the trip was the dinner and show at Organ Piper Pizza.
This is the console. Look at all the stops! And there are three manuals!
One section of organ pipes.
I took some video too, but the sound doesn't work for some reason.

The next day we went to visit a cemetery where a long lost ancestor of mine was buried. My mom hadn't been able to find anything out about Bertha Staack for many years. I was recently put in contact with someone who had some information. That led to the discovery of the place of burial, which happened to be within an hour's drive of Mike's house. So we made the pilgrimage. Here she is listed on the base stone as Bertha Pressler. Harold Pressler is one of her children, and William and Laura Staack I think are her siblings. Rudolph and Wilhelmina are the parents.
Here is a cicada that has just emerged from a molting. There is a daddy-long-legs in the picture too. Mike spotted this. He's good at spotting things.
Bertha and I. Perhaps I look a little too jovial or casual for a picture with a headstone.
This is the cemetery itself. It is small and set right off the main street of Barrington. It's surrounded by an apartment complex on one side and houses on the other two.
After the cemetery we stopped at a large playground. Here is Paul at the top of the ropes.
And Matt in the same place Hayley and Annie just emerged from one of the large slides

A very crackery UVSee Jen's blog for pictures on the trolley and some cute piggyback ride pictures.