tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72956801674864193842024-03-05T09:59:09.254-08:00Veni, Vidi, Blogi: I Came, I Saw, I BloggedUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger234125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-56757650440549338502011-10-07T12:07:00.000-07:002011-10-07T20:38:33.889-07:00Weekend Adventure.I had the most amazing adventure this weekend. I was kidnapped by a group of women and whisked away, deep into the Adirondack mountains - to laugh and bond and to grab life by its...ahem, <i>stuff</i> and experience every moment in vivid and wondrous new ways.<br />
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The weekend certainly delivered.<br />
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It was a trip filled with firsts - a trip that I almost didn't take when I actually took a moment to think about them all. It left me gasping with incredulity: First time away from my kids. First time at camp (brown people don't camp, you see. We study hard and grow up to become doctors, lawyers or engineers. No overnight camps allowed.). First time kayaking. First time doing archery.<br />
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<i>Pretty proud of myself, both in the water and on land. I love that both of these firsts were caught on camera!</i><br />
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<i>I just happened to get six bulls eyes in a row. Promise. </i></div>
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(Interesting side note: I just looked up the verb form of archery, and the internet <i>blew up at me</i>. No joke. Apparently I'm not the only one confused about the correct terminology relating to archery.) <br />
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Why was I doing this again? What had driven me to such madness?<br />
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I blame my neighbors, that lovely group of women who insisted that I
join them, insisted that it would be worth the effort, and insisted that
we have a raucous, and yes, a rejuvenating time. <br />
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<i> Someone left this at the outdoor chapel/meditation space. I'll never know who or what it was left in tribute to...but it was a beautiful gesture and a touching treasure to chance upon. </i></div>
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I thought that I would miss my kids, and I did - but not nearly in the soul-aching, worrying way that I had anticipated. Instead, I found myself feeling like I wanted them with me because I was having so much fun. I had more fun than it should be legally allowed to have when you are a rather cautious, thirty-something mother of two. I found myself pushing harder, willing to try anything and everything I could cram into my 48 hours away because I wanted my family to know that I had used my time wisely, I wanted them to be proud of every new adventure their Mama experienced.<br />
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In other words, for about two days straight....I acted like a twelve year-old. And it felt <i>so</i> good.<br />
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<img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYi9b9L9Q2scnEE1RluIyOK1amgYa8bf89xfma70dSMGLiuQfiR99v-Q7EBgGKDrvjzVJFCZO8rVnqw6Ps195SweyEv1QvJBNeH2qulI7dU8dfKigPTKO0PpsrLlynMoYIW8Gt81frY1g/s640/309717_2507664973732_1316299111_32930328_1102398591_n.jpg" width="640" /> </div>
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<i>Channeling my inner Katniss. (If she was a brown chick and wore a big yellow raincoat.) </i><br />
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<i>Matching camp braids and a friendship bracelet. I took the overnight camping experience VERY seriously!</i></div>
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<i>Here my room mate and I show off our glamorous breathe right strips (which we used at night because we were both as sick as dogs). </i></div>
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<i>Too bad my nose is so big that you can't even tell that it's there.</i><br />
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Unburdened by diaper bags, spontaneity gripped our little group of mamas
like a fever. We hiked in a freezing cold downpour, and the rain lasted
all day - but not once did it dampen our buoyant mood. We danced into
the wee hours of the morning, out on the porch of our cabin deep in the
woods. In the mornings, I sipped hot tea, relaxing outside as the sun
came up overhead, illuminating the breathtaking lake views, and
beckoning us all towards a new day filled with every kind of
possibility.</div>
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<i>Those are not my fabulous slippers. But I so wish they were!!</i></div>
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<i>It's raining, it's pouring...and WE DON'T CARE!</i></div>
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Funnily enough, I felt relaxed, even in the middle of powering uphill
through wet underbrush. I wouldn't call myself an outdoorsy type of gal,
yet I took time for myself and separated from the group to explore the
woods - it was one of my most cherished moments of weekend. I got lost
out there, in the drizzle and grey...but I found something there too. I
found a version of myself that wasn't so worried about what had
happened or what was to come. A lighter, freer me - one that noticed the
brilliant details in every small moment, instead of being swept away in
the routine of life. I determined to bring that feeling back and share
it with my family.</div>
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<i> Deep puddle and leaves</i></div>
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<i>Colors painted by nature<br />My weird fall haiku.</i></div>
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<i>Empty stables - it was too cold for the horses to come out and play. </i></div>
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<i>I have this obsession with barn doors - this one looked beautiful and rustic out there in the wilderness. </i></div>
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<i> We had our bellydancing class in this cabin, overlooking the lake. We shimmied to the sound of pattering rain overhead and a crackling fire behind our backs. I could have stayed there all day!</i></div>
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<i> Adirondack chairs in the Adirondack mountains...how apropos.</i></div>
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<i>I took a picture of my weekend outfit for posterity. It wasn't pretty, but it sure did keep me warm.</i></div>
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<i>Poor little sand toys, left out all forlorn in the freezing cold drizzle.</i></div>
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<i>Beautiful barn door. See: obsession with, above. </i></div>
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<i>Rocky path, leading...who knows where? Perhaps a hidden treasure awaits at the end of the trail...</i></div>
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<i>A frozen, dead dragonfly. Haunting and beautiful, a reminder of the short, dazzling beauty of life. I feel so lucky to have caught this tiny creature on camera.</i></div>
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<i>Fiery fall colors at their peak...and another lucky coincidence that we were present to witness this!</i></div>
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It was the same for the rest of my group of friends. I knew the ladies that I traveled with, but over the weekend I got to know each of them in a completely different way. There were no playground conversation time-limits to hold us back, and so we each shared our stories, marvelling at how life had brought us all together. I remain humbled by the strength of character of each of my travelling companions, truly grateful for the opportunity to share the gift of motherhood and sisterdom with them.<br />
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<i>Beautiful faces of beautiful friends...inside and out.</i><br />
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We relaxed mentally as we exhausted ourselves physically, urging each other forward, looking out for the newbies (that would be me), and laughing until our sides ached. In the end we returned to our families renewed, bubbling over with stories to share with the ones we love the most. </div>
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<i>There I am, right in the middle. Everywhere I looked, was another smiling face, and the mist and lake and trees all around. It was pure bliss. </i></div>
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Maybe it comes from waiting until your children are older, but I didn't think for a second that Yousuf would be in over his head while I was away. In fact, I came back to a household filled with giggles. When I asked the girls what they did while I was away, Inara looked at Yousuf conspiratorially and said, "Daddy made us <i>waffles</i> (uttered in a reverent whisper) for dinner, Mama. And he hardly <i>ever</i> said 'no' to us the whole time you were gone."<br />
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I'd say they did just fine without me, writing their own special story with their father. I can almost hear a grown-up version of Inara and Nissa talking to each other years from now, "Do you remember whenever Mom went away for her Adventure Weekend and Dad would let us .... (<i>insert forbidden activity here</i>). " It will be a cherished memory, for my girls, for my husband, and for me - knowing that I am damn lucky to have a family that loves each other so well. A family indeed worth missing.<br />
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I am refreshed, after my weekend away - even if I had to catch up on laundry and dive back right back into the Monday-Friday routine. My girls could scarcely believe all the things I did on my trip, and their eyes widened with surprise as I described finding deer in a forest clearing, hiking up a mountain, sitting in a tiny kayak and watching the mist rise lazily off a lake in the early morning cool, belly dancing with strangers before a huge stone fireplace, discovering that I was right handed but left-eyed when I tried archery for the first time, and drinking in the magical beauty of an outdoor gathering/meditating space:<br />
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<i>Wouldn't this be the most beautiful spot for a wedding? </i></div>
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"Mama, you did so many things!" Inara exclaimed as I paused for a breath. And then she said something that made my heart leap up into my throat and get stuck there, a sensation that feels like falling in love again and again. <br />
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"When I grow up, Mama, I want to do all of those things too. I want to be just like you."<br />
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I realized that I was wrong when I told myself that I was going away for me. It turns out, I did it for my girls too. <br />
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<i>Happy Friday, friends. May you have many adventures of your own to share with the ones you love. xoxoxmahreen</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-73392345740946734702011-09-27T13:33:00.000-07:002011-09-27T13:33:49.304-07:00Getting To Know You.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Firstly, THANK YOU for all the great advice about my <a href="http://www.venividiblogi.com/2011/09/diy-design-snugly-chair.html">Sn(ugly) Chair</a>. It was great to read all of your responses and tips, and I learned so much. For instance, I had no idea that there was such a thing as upholstery spray paint! I looked it up over the weekend, which of course led me down a rabbit hole of weirdness that took strange turns at things like interior car detailing, "after" shots of upholstered chairs that were far WORSE than the "before" ones, and finally a fantastic how-to on how to, get this...<b>paint</b> a wing back chair. <br />
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Not with spray paint, either. I'm talking real live actual brush-on paint. It's crazy. And dare I say...<i>fantastic</i>.<br />
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I'm still investigating it more to see if it will work for my chair, but it feels like this could be a real possibility. Don't laugh at me yet...just wait for the reveal, then I'll tip my hat off to you and you can go gangbusters as you clutch your sides and the tears roll down your cheeks from laughing. <br />
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It shall be great fun! Or something to that effect. <br />
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Meanwhile, I'm now nursing myself back from the land of the living snot-infested dead - as my sweet little children were so kind as to share their germies with me over the weekend. I have this mental image of them, walking towards me as snot droobles down their vapid, lifeless faces and they shriek their battle-cry of, "Mama! Mama! I love you!! I vant to suck your bloooood!" (Wait. That's totally not zombie, is it? Great, now I've gotten my undead monsters all mixed up, way to go, George.) and then they infect me with their grossness...<br />
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...but I digress.<br />
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The point is, that I am two degrees away from death exactly THREE days before I am scheduled to go away with my galpals for a <i>insert drumroll here</i>....Women's Adventure Weekend!<br />
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I'll share more about the trip upon my return, but I do want to say it's something that I've never ever done before. It's way out of my comfort zone (my comfort zone being marathon shopping, not marathon outdoor adventuring), but it promises to be a weekend full of great memories made with a few of my most favorite people. Provided I can get better, of course. Did you hear that, body? It's time to STOP BEING SICK. NOW.<br />
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It's hard trying to make your body better when you're chasing a toddler around - as I am sure you are well aware. Unfortunately, I was one of those poor naive sods who was living under the misguided notion that once my eldest child was in full day school I would have oodles of free time on my hands...my GAWD, how wrong that silly thought was. I feel like I have less time than ever!<br />
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My days are now spent in a sort of revolving-door that involves drop offs, pick ups, and trying to cram in as many errands and activities as possible in between. I feel badly about hauling Nissa along for a lot of the not-so-fun daily chores, but at the same time, I'm enjoying our alone time a great deal. The downside is that there is less time than ever for me, which includes blogging. It's a problem, people...but I am working very hard to keep this creative outlet. I need it for my own sense of sanity, for my own sense of self. <br />
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In the meantime however, I am lucky enough to get lots of alone time with this delightful little girl:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo8ot9ErH-jt6ffZVmvU32HkSBCQ42UZciUxOZTbAgqD8bWzGmA1QdQdnUhvWe3bbyl7gINMN0itQGEDqQ3ToIsjB5M95_l9V0uBXsPHezY6eaCqyQa0LsTNFr-NL72MjiTARar1YprRc/s1600/20110812-IMG_2023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo8ot9ErH-jt6ffZVmvU32HkSBCQ42UZciUxOZTbAgqD8bWzGmA1QdQdnUhvWe3bbyl7gINMN0itQGEDqQ3ToIsjB5M95_l9V0uBXsPHezY6eaCqyQa0LsTNFr-NL72MjiTARar1YprRc/s640/20110812-IMG_2023.jpg" width="470" /></a></div>
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I'm learning all about Nissa during our time together - and I have to tell you, she is certainly one cool chick. Nissa has become my little bestie, we hang out and share inside jokes wherever we go, making the most of her perpetually good mood (except for when I miss nap time - which tends to happen when we're having too much fun!).<br />
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<i>A special date with Daddy, who also gets to spend lots of alone time with Nissa on his day off.</i></div>
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I had honestly forgotten what a joy two year-olds are to be around.
There is a sense of maturity to Nissa's being, she is fiercely
independent (more so than her sister was at the same age), yet she still
likes to be smooched in public. She is adventurous and bold, yet
easy-going and laid back. She's always up for whatever the day has in
store, and I find our time together flying by as I discover more about her blossoming personality. I wonder who this bouncing little sprite will become, what her likes and dislikes will be, how she will view the world and her own very special place in it...<br />
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<i>(Only a two year-old would think that cleaning up is fun. Partay time!)</i></div>
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<i>We don't say cheese. We say, AHHHHHHHH! It's what all the cool kids are doing.</i></div>
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Inara always asks what Nissa and I did together while she was away at
school, and on some days we have a lot to share. But on other days, the
ones where we haven't gone to music class or grocery shopping or to the library, the days when
we just get to <i>be</i> together, those are the days that are harder to
describe... and yet they are far richer in experiences. Nissa and I
always give each other a look on those days, and then shrug. "Not much",
we say...but we <i>mean</i> something else entirely:</div>
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<i>DANCE PARTY! or, "Shay-kah shay-kah booty!" as Nissa likes to say.<br /><br />**********<br /></i></div>
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I love being with you, kiddo. I love
everything you are, in this very moment. I love that you are my
daughter, and I am so lucky that I get to be your mama. <br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-2560955400237405802011-09-23T12:00:00.000-07:002011-09-23T13:29:39.136-07:00DIY Design: The Sn(ugly) Chair.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh07jakuJCKKfl48d8qfcrbXYilZW_GiDTT8frU2xbYuTPssPncspDTslg2o0-Bq60tnFJSMEVvgSg_a5x39zwj2aHyQsIlUmlhERZ-tJ-amTVeAk46GmtlnvnXO7c3Jq3O0hghXqSK5AM/s1600/20110919-IMG_2991.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
My girls and I spent much of the week curled up together - both of the girls were sick and they needed some intensive Mama TLC to get better. It definitely helped to have a nice big chair to curl up in...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh07jakuJCKKfl48d8qfcrbXYilZW_GiDTT8frU2xbYuTPssPncspDTslg2o0-Bq60tnFJSMEVvgSg_a5x39zwj2aHyQsIlUmlhERZ-tJ-amTVeAk46GmtlnvnXO7c3Jq3O0hghXqSK5AM/s1600/20110919-IMG_2991.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh07jakuJCKKfl48d8qfcrbXYilZW_GiDTT8frU2xbYuTPssPncspDTslg2o0-Bq60tnFJSMEVvgSg_a5x39zwj2aHyQsIlUmlhERZ-tJ-amTVeAk46GmtlnvnXO7c3Jq3O0hghXqSK5AM/s640/20110919-IMG_2991.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih16_gov6MWrCVtumr_ocSgr75jKbatxJpfPbp4TDmtkizFfV2ROgUqy8ilbfU-Gj1biO5vSORCXcXYaMMJ9G9nwecmmm2P0Y0u9HRjQ-_PiM9squvxpAj6JNiJQmXT-lPGBSYM7C1AOI/s1600/20110923-IMG_3003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
...poor sick kiddos!<br />
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The chair is something I've been meaning to tell you about. I've been looking at our living room for some time now, and I've been thinking that it is missing <i>something</i> but not quite sure what. We currently have a tiny IKEA sofa and armchair (Klippan and Tullsta, respectively) in the room, and not much else...unless you count the toys that are threatening to take over my house. That back corner between the two windows was basically dead space, and we've been wanting more seating for when guests come over. In my mind's eye, I could see an upholstered wing back chair with a really modern print, but they are really way too expensive for our budget (our budget is IKEA Klippan and Tullsta!). <br />
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When a friend of mine suggested that I look on Craigslist, I laughed out loud, thinking I'd find only really dated furniture. <i>So what?</i> Was my wise friend's response. Ummm, excuse me? And that was how the plan to re-upholster an old chair was born....<br />
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Now, I have absolutely no idea how to go about doing this, but I do have the internet and a very handy friend who has promised to hold my hand (and my pliers and staple gun) as I bleed, sweat and probably curse my way through this project. <i>What the heck,</i> I thought. <i>Let's do it!</i> Yousuf thinks this whole exercise is nuts (which is code for "don't spend too much money!"), so I'm going to have to prove him wrong. It should be fun, right?<br />
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But first I needed a chair. A really cheap, but not so cheap that it was gross, chair.<br />
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Craigslist is a DIY'ers fantasy brought to life. Even in the quiet little market where I live, you can find absolutely anything. The chair that I settled on was going for $75, which was a bit more than what I had intended to pay, but I liked the overall shape of it and also that the ad said that it was in almost-new condition. <br />
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It was the first time that I ever made a Craigslist purchase on my own - Yousuf is usually the haggler, but as this was my project, I decided to go for it myself. Aside from the 90's green color, the chair was in great condition, and get this, El Cheapitan - I even haggled the price down to $60!! <br />
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Off to a good start, I'd say!<br />
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So we've been living with this GREEN chair in our living room for about a week. It's really comfortable, it makes a lovely accent piece and I love it's vintage lines. <br />
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I do not however, love the color. At all.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih16_gov6MWrCVtumr_ocSgr75jKbatxJpfPbp4TDmtkizFfV2ROgUqy8ilbfU-Gj1biO5vSORCXcXYaMMJ9G9nwecmmm2P0Y0u9HRjQ-_PiM9squvxpAj6JNiJQmXT-lPGBSYM7C1AOI/s1600/20110923-IMG_3003.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih16_gov6MWrCVtumr_ocSgr75jKbatxJpfPbp4TDmtkizFfV2ROgUqy8ilbfU-Gj1biO5vSORCXcXYaMMJ9G9nwecmmm2P0Y0u9HRjQ-_PiM9squvxpAj6JNiJQmXT-lPGBSYM7C1AOI/s640/20110923-IMG_3003.jpg" width="451" /></a></div>
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<i>GREEEEEEN. I'd call it Pondscum, but that name's already taken by our van (which was another used purchase) The birds are a-chirpin': CHEAPY CHEAPY CHEAP! </i></div>
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But there is definitely the potential for character with this piece...I just have to figure out what fabric will look really fantastic, and oh - also how to reupholster the chair. No biggie. <br />
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So, if you have any great upholstery advice, websites, links, videos - hit me! I could also use help with my fabric choices too. It needs to be durable for sure, and I'm thinking no geometric patterns because lining up all that fabric in the right direction will give me a heart attack.<br />
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I'm envisioning the walls in my living room to be a very pale grey (gray for you Canadiurns). The IKEA sofa is in the process of being re-covered to a slightly deeper grey, to pick up the silver tones in these fantabulous pillows that I just snagged for sale off of West Elm. Hello, lovelies. I'm so loving this Indigo hue right now:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMXSnkiaFtnRQOUVAX7E5pQftWLDQ0nPD1IkVfxbZIZiKAHszspSru5ImkNUfJVrAze2Ri_etBpErMNLbYbkth1k4i6FHpt1H5XEtBfSyHkp4Wup6hu3O38v9eeUz8c0vngNTsl7yOV0I/s1600/20110923-IMG_2998.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMXSnkiaFtnRQOUVAX7E5pQftWLDQ0nPD1IkVfxbZIZiKAHszspSru5ImkNUfJVrAze2Ri_etBpErMNLbYbkth1k4i6FHpt1H5XEtBfSyHkp4Wup6hu3O38v9eeUz8c0vngNTsl7yOV0I/s640/20110923-IMG_2998.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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And then there is the IKEA Tullsta chair to deal with as well. It needs a new cover too - but thinking about all these different pieces and what fabrics to choose has me overwhelmed, which is SO WEIRD. Finding design inspiration is usually not so difficult for me, but I think I'm afraid of making an irreversibly horrible choice in my own home. <br />
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So - here is my Design SOS! Or, you can just sit back and watch how this whole thing unfolds. I'll keep you updated as the process develops. <br />
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But for now...I'm going back to doing more of this: </div>
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<i>(I kind of adore it when my babies get all sniffly and need a little extra Mama love. The new chair helps to make it all extra comfy!)</i><br />
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Happy Weekend!</div>
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<i>p.s. I just came across this fabulous website, it's called <a href="http://www.incircleinteriors.com/">InCircle Interiors</a>, and they offer design advice online to fit tight budgets. How neat! I thought I'd pass it along in case any of you are interested. xoxoxmahreen</i></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-10877081036059331012011-09-20T10:17:00.000-07:002011-09-20T10:18:41.912-07:00My Hiney Woes.My friends, last week - in all it's entirety - kicked my hiney. <br />
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And if you must know, I have quite an ample hiney (I blame genetics, and chocolate, and cheese. And bread. Oh, and ice cream! Can't forget the ice cream!), so you can trust me when I say that if my hiney received some kickage, and I felt said kickage on said ample hiney...that it was a really rough week. <br />
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My hiney actually hurts just thinking about it.<br />
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Fatima Mustafa, aka my mom, hopped on a train from Toronto when she sensed the desperation bordering on hysteria in my voice early last week. It was a blessing to have her here, and it helped immensely. For three days, I didn't have to feel guilty about abandoning one child in order to care for the other. Nobody felt left out, nobody acted out because they felt like they weren't getting my attention. It was all good in the 'hood. <br />
<br />
And yet, the week still kicked my hiney. <br />
<br />
It's because kindergarten is upsetting the very delicate balance of MY LIFE. We were teetering on the precipice here at the George household, looking out over the abyss and imagining that it was filled with sparkles and glitter and magical unicorns and happy friendly school vibes.<br />
<br />
But it totally, utterly, completely, wasn't. <br />
<br />
They abyss looked back at us last week and then reared it's ugly head and roared ANXIETY FEAR TEARS MAMA AM I GOING TO HAVE TO BACK TO SCHOOL EVERY DAY FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE?!?!?!?!?!? OH NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!<br />
<br />
They (And by they I mean people that know more about parenting than me - which is like, everyone.) say that the second week of school is actually harder than the first. And sure enough, once the novelty of the school situation wore away and and was replaced by the tedium of <i>sleep eat change school home eat change (bath optional) sleep</i>, it really wasn't so much fun any more. <br />
<br />
We're getting there though, with fewer tears every day - but lord almighty, is it ever hard. I feel like every moment of my life last week revolved around this gigantic spinning tornado, and I was grabbing onto anything solid every second of the day, trying not to get sucked into the chaos. It was so completely exhausting, the tears and the routine and the handling of every fragile emotion in a way that didn't end in someone bursting out in tears or banging little fists against the walls, floor, or me...and urgh. I just hope that we hit our school groove soon. <br />
<br />
Nissa misses Inara SO MUCH. I miss her too, but the depths of Nissa's despair upon seeing Inara off to school every day is absolutely heart wrenching. I'm trying to re-learn all my toddler-entertainment tricks, but man, are my skills rusty. I love hanging out with my two year-old though, it's as if we are re-discovering each other in a whole new way, I'm learning things about my youngest child that I had no idea about previously. <br />
<br />
Like last week, I learned that:<br />
<br />
- Nissa loves green beans.<br />
- Nissa compliments any outfit I try on in a changing room. She says I look like a "fancy lady", even when the pants are about two sizes too small for my (as I am sure you are well aware of by now) very ample hiney.<br />
- Nissa wears her sunglasses upside down, every single time. She insists that this is the correct way to wear them, every single time.<br />
- Nissa is all kinds of hilarious, and her sense of humor is fantastically well-developed. She can be dry and sarcastic in one instant, and be making farting sounds the next, all while giving me a look that says, <i>Come on, Mama. Try to keep up with me here. </i><br />
<br />
Nissa has been having a hard time napping lately, and I think it has to do with Inara going away. But last week I told her that as soon as she woke up from her nap we would be going to get Inara, and just like that - problem solved. Little sister understands a lot more than I give her credit for.<br />
<br />
It hasn't been all awful, it's just been insanely busy. There were times last week when I felt like we could <i>so</i> do this school thing, and that given the right amount of time - everything would be a-okay. <br />
<br />
Here is a brief run-down of positives, because it's good for me to keep all these in mind when I'm yelling at my kids and stuffing their faces full of breakfast muffins so that we can get to school on time (is anyone else dealing with morning slowpokes? Please say that I'm not the only one!):<br />
<br />
- Inara loves with a capital L covered in goopy wet kisses to infinity her teacher. I am so SO thrilled for her.<br />
- In spite of a slightly rocky second day (she got pushed on the playground, resulting in a scratched cheek), Inara has overcome so many of her own anxieties about school, and she hasn't missed a single day because of it. <br />
- I have found a great way to alleviate all of our stress - humor. I make funny faces at Nissa when we drop Inara off, and instead of a love note at lunch (which was reminding Inara of me in an "I need Mama RIGHT NOW" kind of way), she gets a Joke Of The Day. I found out on Friday that her classmates and teacher all look forward to her reading them aloud. Awesome.<br />
- At the end of last week, we discussed Inara's feelings about school. She told us that when she comes home, no matter how tough of a day it has been, the feeling she feels the most when she finishes a day of school....is PRIDE. <br />
<br />
Oh yeah, baby. So take THAT, last week. I am laughing my backside off, in all of it's magnificence, in your general direction. And oh, how good it feels to laugh.<br />
<br />
<i>p.s. - approximately twenty minutes after writing this post, Nissa threw up in my lap. Sigh. Looks like it's going to be another loooooong week.</i><br />
<i>p.p.s. - approximately 4 hours after writing this post, I fell asleep and had the strangest dream about Matt Damon leading my next book club meeting. This has nothing to do with anything, other than to remind you that my mind is a strange and bizarre place. And that I love Matt Damon.</i><br />
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<i>Sweet dreams of waking up to get Big Sister from school - and by the way, no more puking, please.</i></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-26756568066454114562011-09-08T12:01:00.000-07:002011-09-08T20:07:44.347-07:00The Champion Of Kindergarten.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So, guys...she did great. No, great isn't an accurate description. Inara ROCKED her first day of kindergarten. <br />
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I always remember it raining on the first day of school. Even if we had a summer filled with nothing but sunny skies, as soon as September hit it would pour buckets, especially on the first day. Sure enough, yesterday was no exception. But the grey skies didn't put a damper on my kindergartner's spirits. She bounded down the hall with eager anticipation, not minding the <i>squelch squirch squeak</i> of our footsteps. <br />
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<i>(Yousuf got more than a little soaked. Poor guy doesn't have any hair to absorb the rain, you know.)</i></div>
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And the rest, as they say, was history. She could barely sit still, wanting to explore the class, eat her snack, and basically you know, just get on with it, already. Especially when we posed for pictures and I almost suffocated her with the sheer desire of never wanting her to grow up: <br />
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<i>Okay, mom. Enough, already.</i></div>
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In fact, the only person who had any major issues was little sister, who got grumpier and grumpier as the morning progressed. She felt slighted when she didn't get a morning snack and therefore tried to steal Inara's... </div>
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...and even grumpier when Inara said that she was ready for me to leave and I channelled every ounce of my being into not crying in front of my big, brave, amazingly grown up girl. <br />
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Nissa remained grumpy until the car, when she went straight into morose without any warning. I had no idea that it would affect her so deeply, but being without Big Sis was the most heartbreaking thing that had ever happened to her. She couldn't understand why we weren't going BACK to get Inara right away. <br />
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And to tell you the truth, I spent much of my day wondering the same thing. I spent the day puttering around, carrying Nissa and convincing her that Inara was okay (but I was really convincing myself), and half-wanting her school to call me to come and get her early. Thankfully, they never did. And when I went to go pick her up later that afternoon, she was SO proud of herself. She was The Champion Of Kindergarten, she said. <br />
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I have to agree with her assessment of the experience. Inara kicked all kinds of...well, you know what I mean. She didn't even MISS ME, that's how great of a day she had. Her teacher confirmed it all, which leads me to believe that she is now officially a Big Kid. Sniff, sniff, I'm trying very hard not to have "a moment" as I type that. We couldn't have asked for a better start, and I am so awed by how grown up she seems today. For today I am the mother of the Champion of Kindergarten. It's a big deal around these parts. <br />
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Aside: You will notice in the above picture, that my girlie is NOT wearing the nice black mary janes that we hunted all over the known universe for. Nay, instead, she insisted on wearing her old, treadless, beaten-up Fancy Nancy sneaks...and I let her. Because she is the Champion Of Kindergarten, and who am I to argue with that?<br />
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The night before the first day of school, Nissa was so forlorn. I had told her that Inara was going to school the next day and she vehemently shook her head at all of us insisting, "She NOT go to school tomowwow. Nanu stay HERE." Then, she walked over to Inara and held her hand while she looked up at her and said, "I miss you, Nanu. I miss you tomowwow."<br />
<br />
Inara hugged her little sister very tightly and said to her in a soft voice, "I'm going to kindergarten now, Issie. I can't spend every day with you anymore. But I'll always come home to you. I promise."<br />
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<i>Gawd</i>, I thought to myself. <i>Just kill me now</i>.<br />
<br />
This growing up thing is going to take some getting used to.<br />
<br />
<i>Thanks for all the wonderful comments, emails and messages, friends. I read every one and cherished every word. Thank you for going through this with me. I feel like we all sent my big girl off to school, together. xoxoxmahreen</i><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-76246888678934782942011-09-06T13:12:00.000-07:002011-09-06T13:13:39.902-07:00Kindergarten Eve.<br />
I was a total mess this past weekend. It was supposed to be the last blast of summer vacation for our family - we had plans to do all kinds of fun things together, and instead I spent it grumping around being mad at anyone and everyone who dared cross my path. <br />
<br />
I don't think I was a lot of fun to be around.<br />
<br />
At the start of the long weekend, I had convinced myself that Inara was definitely NOT ready to go to kindergarten because she hadn't gotten a haircut. What kind of mother was I, to have not thought about this earlier? Only THE WORST MOTHER IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD EVER. Of course.<br />
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Stricken by panic, I started calling hairdressers in the area. All but one of the places laughed at me. At the last place, a kind lady took pity on me and offered me an appointment...for next Saturday. <br />
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I cried, and then I took it. <i>It's not so bad</i>, I told myself. <i>Maybe I'll take pictures of her after the appointment, and tell everyone that they were taken on the first day of school...</i><br />
<br />
...because that's what crazy people tell themselves when they are caught in the tailspin of emotions leading up to KINDERGARTEN. <br />
<br />
I think that I've purposefully left this many things to the last minute because I am still in complete and utter denial about the whole ordeal. It's the same reason I hauled the girls all over town this morning to find new shoes for Inara. I just couldn't stand to think about it until I was forced to. And I WAS forced to, when yesterday Inara put on her old sneakers and I noticed that the tread on the bottom was completely worn out. What kind of mother doesn't notice these things until the day before school starts?<br />
<br />
Only the kind who is sabotaging herself emotionally because she doesn't want to let go of her baby. <br />
<br />
I feel as if I'm getting ready for birthing another baby, I'm restless and pacing and nesting - but it's all bass ackwards. I'm preparing for someone leaving instead of coming, and I'm steadying myself for a flood of tears - and not the happy kind. I so badly want school to be a good experience for her, I want her to realize school for the gift that it is...and I'm so scared to think about what will happen if anything goes wrong.<br />
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I've done a very good job of keeping the nasties away from Inara, for fear of tainting her newly-emerging excitement...but they're not gone away completely. Instead, all my anxiety is coming out in the form of shoes and haircuts and lunch menus and rain boots (she doesn't even have RAIN BOOTS, people. It's like I'm going to send her to school in rags <b><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%80_la_carte#cite_ref-4"></a></b>Ă la Oliver Twist. And then she'll be cold and hungry and end up falling in with the wrong crowd and they'll keep her warm and fed but only if she does their evil bidding. All because I didn't get her new rain boots. Stop laughing. It could <i>totally</i> happen.)<br />
<br />
We have a gigantic calendar in our kitchen - I've <a href="http://www.venividiblogi.com/2011/03/little-yeah-right-thing-that-makes-me.html">written about it</a> before, and every month I take it down to make a new one with the girls. Well, it's the day before kindergarten and our calendar still says August. I just can't bear making a September calendar and then having "Inara's First Day of School also known as THE DAY SHE WILL LEAVE YOU" printed on it and circled three times for emphasis. I just can't do it. <br />
<br />
So now when Inara goes, "Mama, what day is today? I can't tell because the calendar is <i>completely </i>wrong."<br />
<br />
I cheerfully reply with, "It's not wrong. It's actually August 37th today. See, I've written it at the bottom of the calendar. It's not wrong AT ALL."<br />
<br />
And then then everyone in the house rolls their eyes at me and I pretend not to notice. BUT I TOTALLY DO NOTICE IT, PEOPLE. And guess what? I could CARE LESS.<br />
<br />
(This is something crazy people tell themselves all the time. Or so I've heard.)<br />
<br />
Inara is totally stoked about school. She's excited, she's looking forward to it, and she wants to go. I am so thrilled to hear this from her, and what a change it is from this time last year. On Friday, we had a family conference with Inara's kindergarten teacher (standard issue at her school) to familiarize all of us with each other. Later, Inara said that it was the best part of her day, and that she didn't want to leave at all. <br />
<br />
It was music to my ears, and yet my heart couldn't help but break just a little bit. <br />
<br />
This morning, on our way back from trying on every shoe in every shoe store from here to the Canadian border, I told Inara how I felt. "I'm not sure what Nissa and I will do when you're at school, kiddo. I think we're going to miss you an awful lot."<br />
<br />
She thought about this for a few moments, dog-earing the book she was reading and setting it aside (it was about the <i>Titanic</i>, her latest obsession...so kindergarten appropriate, yes?), and she gave the question her full attention. <br />
<br />
"Mama," she said seriously. "If I think about things for you and Issie to do when I'm at school, maybe it will help you not miss me so much. And then we'll both have lots of things to talk about when we see each other again. Because I'm big now, and I just have to be in kindergarten, even if we're both nervous about it. Maybe our feelings will change. We just have to give it a chance. Hey, look! The leaves are falling off the trees already! Does that mean it's autumn?"<br />
<br />
I pulled the van over onto a side street because I was "having a moment" (as my family now likes to say about me. Often.). I put down all the windows and stuck my head outside, inhaling the cool fresh air and letting it wash over the fat tears that fell silently from my eyes and plopped down to the road below. I sighed as I realized what was happening, and pulled my head back into the van.<br />
<br />
Sitting under the big oak tree, we watched the leaves swirl around us. The wind made a hushing sound as it rustled the leaves, in calm, soothing tones. <br />
<br />
"Do you think that it sounds like the wind is whispering something?" I asked the girls, twisting in my seat to look behind me. <br />
<br />
"Maybe..." Inara replied, turning back to her book. <br />
<br />
"Go back home NOW, Mama! Go!" came the helpful response from Nissa, who was facing backward and confused about this sudden change of pace. <br />
<br />
I started the van back up again, but before I pulled away from the tree I paused one last time, to listen. The world seemed like a much less complicated place under the shelter of that big tree. But as we drove off, I heard my own voice echoing the voice of the wind and the world as it pushed us all along into tomorrow and the huge milestone we faced. <br />
<br />
<i>She is so ready for this</i> it whispered, in my ear, in my mind, across my heart...and I knew that it was true. <br />
<br />
She is so ready for this.<br />
<br />
And so...I will be ready for it too. Even if breaks my heart, just a little bit. <br />
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<i>In case you missed it yesterday, my other gig at <a href="http://andnobodytoldme.com/">And Nobody Told Me</a> is coming to an end. My<a href="http://andnobodytoldme.com/2011/09/that-i-would-find-a-way-to-make-my-child-free-fantasy-come-true/"> last post</a> was yesterday, and I hope you will have a chance to read it. The blog will not be publishing any more regular material, but we are leaving the content up in the hopes that it will benefit anyone who happens to come across it. I've enjoyed my time at ANTM immensely, and will always treasure the wonderful friendships I've made with all of the incredible and talented women there. xoxoxmahreen</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-39607214281458279992011-09-01T12:27:00.000-07:002011-09-01T12:27:22.179-07:00September First.Inara announced this morning, "SUMMER IS OFFICIALLY OVER." - I daresay she sounded not altogether unhappy about it either, which is possibly the most exciting thing to happen around here since her fifth birthday back in July. <br />
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It's because she's getting older, and all of a sudden school doesn't seem so scary. We went to go visit Inara's Pre-K teacher and old classroom this morning, and in that teeny classroom with those teeny toys, my teeny girl loomed large. She is so ready for kindergarten (which starts exactly <i>one week</i> from today - aaaaaaaahhhhh - I'm going to be such a mess!), even if she doesn't quite know it fully herself...yet. A mama can tell about these things, and all I can say is that her new school better had be ready, because they are about to get a whole lotta EYE EN AY AR AY. All caps. Exclamation point exclamation point exclamation point. This girl has personality to spare and the world needs to see it unleashed. <br />
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Even though Inara still says that she is "kind of nervous" about school, I am hoping that in a short while it will all be smooth sailing. After all, she has done the whole school thang before and this year she will see some familiar faces to welcome her back.<br />
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One bone of contention however, has been uniforms. Inara's new school has uniforms, her old school did not. She has expressed on more than one occasion, her vehement dislike about the whole situation saying, "I do not, ever, want to wear uniforms. Because I don't want to wear what everyone else is wearing. Ever."<br />
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I had no idea that Inara cared so deeply about her attire (if she had her druthers she would wear her pajamas all day every day for the rest of her days...or so I thought). But all of a sudden she is very much into picking out her own wacky clothing combinations, and not giving two hoots about what any of us have to say about the end result. <br />
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(To tell you the truth, I'm totally digging her new-found sense of independence.)<br />
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So a couple of weeks ago, when I brought home a department store worth of uniforms to try on, she took one look at all the light blues and dark blues spread out before her and let out a drawn-out exasperated siiiiiiiiiiigh. And then said, "UMMMM. NO."<br />
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I have to say, I was really not in the mood for arguing, since I had just spent the better part of an afternoon holding back tears in the middle of the mall just <i>thinking</i> about my girlie dressed up in these clothes, headed off towards her bright future. WITHOUT ME. More than one salesperson had to hand me a tissue, I'm sorry to say that I was really that pathetic.<br />
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"Inara. You're not going to look like everyone else. You're going to look like YOU. Because you're special and it doesn't matter what you wear. Just try them on. Please."<br />
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She thought about it, grunted at me, and took a pile of stuff around the corner to try on.<br />
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And came back stating matter-of-factly,<br /><br />
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"I have decided to wear this with my uniform too. So that I can do THIS!"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNPnKtBxb9KfidqMri63l0niqosXV7-FqLCUT4NW-gu0iFfXmcx8Ji7TEDT81qtp_4r7ICLuSwpABe4Q5TYdXTZDfdLr1Thy6E6etNU6pFxAbabnCN1Ve03SUDLpBtq1s6THfuPK3yy74/s1600/20110807-IMG_1924.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNPnKtBxb9KfidqMri63l0niqosXV7-FqLCUT4NW-gu0iFfXmcx8Ji7TEDT81qtp_4r7ICLuSwpABe4Q5TYdXTZDfdLr1Thy6E6etNU6pFxAbabnCN1Ve03SUDLpBtq1s6THfuPK3yy74/s640/20110807-IMG_1924.jpg" width="426" /></a> </div>
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She looked so grown up, and so NOT grown up, that my emotions - now at war with one another - came spilling out in the form of a guffaw drowned in tears. I just couldn't believe that something so funny could make me want to grab her and hold onto her and demand that she not grow up...ever.<br />
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And of course, everything just devolved from that point onwards, as Inara, driven to manic hilarity by me laughing and crying, decided that she would just have to see how far she could push my fragile emotional state.<br />
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Little sister got in on it too, exclaiming, "I a bee! Buzz Buzz Buzz! I go to school too! Bye-bye, Mama! See you SOON!" Which was so endearing and heart wrenching that I nearly broke down into sobs right then and there. ET TU, NISSA.<br /><br />
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At which point Yousuf joined the traitorous masses and threatened to take my baby to school right then and there. "NOOOOOOO!!!" I shrieked, in mock agony, while Inara cackled with delight, "I'm gooooo-ing, Mama! I'm going NOW!":<br /><br />
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By the end of it all, we decided that uniforms weren't probably so bad (<i>if</i> they could be accessorized...but not with dinosaur hoodies), that both Inara and I were probably equally nervous about kindergarten, and that every time I looked like I was going to get "uncomfortable feelings", Inara would just <i>have</i> to do something crazy. You know, to help turn my feelings into happy ones again - and maybe that would help change her mind about kindergarten too.<br />
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We've had a lot of crazy going on in this house ever since. <br />
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And Inara says that helping me feel better is making her feel pretty good too...which is my really corny segue into...<br />
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The Do Something Good Giveaway!!!<br />
(Because all of YOU did something nice for someone else too! Get it? Huh? Do ya? Okay, I'll stop now.)<br />
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I was so touched by reading all of your comments and entries. You totally GOT IT, guys. And I love you all for it - I love you for getting on board and wanting to make someone's day a little brighter. I love that you didn't hesitate to tell me how great you thought the idea was. And I especially loved reading about all the people you want to help. I am lucky to have all of you wonderful, kind souls as reader friends - I feel like I got to know a little bit more about what makes YOU tick. And baby, I like what I see. <br />
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Extra special congratulations to <b>Illusion of Sanity</b> who won with the following comment:<br />
<blockquote>
<i>I would give them to my good friend who has recently become a single mom
and is struggling to keep a bit of normalcy for her kids. This would
make her day! </i></blockquote>
I truly, truly hope it does! Please contact me at <i>mahreen at venividiblog dot com</i> to claim your Mabel's Labels Ultimate Back-to-School Combo for your friend. I hope that she loves them as much as we do...and thank you for entering her into the giveaway!<br />
<br />
Thank you all so much for participating in the Mabel's Labels Do Something Good Giveaway, and especially to Mabel's Labels for making it all possible. It was fabulous to work with the ladies over at Mabel's Labels, they were on board with the idea right from the start and have been nothing but super supportive. If you didn't win this time, remember to bookmark the Mabel's Labels <a href="http://www.mabel.ca/">website</a>, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/Mabelhood">Facebook </a>page and <a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/mabelhood">Twitter</a> stream to keep up with all of their fabulous products, sales, and more giveaways too. <br /><br /> I love doing the Do Something Good Giveaways and as always, I am so appreciative of my readers taking part in them. It's so gratifying knowing that YOU want to help me make our time here a little bit more meaningful. Feel free to email me with more giveaway ideas anytime, I'd love to hear from you.<br /><br />It was fun to pay it forward wasn't it? Let's do it again real soon.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-87461594056865271652011-08-30T13:21:00.000-07:002011-08-30T19:13:30.067-07:00Summer Snapshots: Camping<i>Today our family is celebrating Eid - so you'll have to forgive me for not answering any emails or comments until tomorrow. It's also Yousuf's first day back at work (<a href="http://www.venividiblogi.com/2011/05/bubbly.html">working on holidays</a> seems to be a running theme with us...pffft.), and so we are trying to cram in as much special family time as the day will allow. Which OF COURSE, includes the making and eating of many <a href="http://www.venividiblogi.com/2011/08/ramadan-cake-pops.html">Ramadan Cake Pops</a>. It's an Eid tradition, you know. We wish all of you a very blessed Eid today, and hope that you enjoy love, peace and happiness today, and always. Eid Mubarak, and remember that the <a href="http://www.venividiblogi.com/2011/08/do-something-good-giveaway-mabels.html">Mabel's Labels Do Something Good Giveaway</a> is still open! xoxoxmahreen </i><br />
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We spent our weekend getting ready for Eid, hanging decorations, cooking and baking and filling the house with sensory delights. Our garlands are hung, our wacky menu has been planned (courtesy of Inara and Nissa - Inara asked for "Eid Challah" to add to the Ramadan Cake pops. Sigh.), and we are now in full-on festive mode. It was a splendid way to spend the last weekend of summer - Yousuf starts back to Professorship today, and Inara follows after the long weekend. This last blast was the perfect way to go out on a great big high.<br />
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I'm spending the day fully immersed in family time, but there is still much to share about the summer that has passed (all too quickly for my liking, I should mention once more, just for good measure). Today's installment of V2B Summer Snapshots includes photos from our first family camping adventure, at a sprawling state park on the (<a href="http://www.venividiblogi.com/2011/08/camping-101.html">slightly-bacteria infested</a>) south shore of Lake Ontario...<br />
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...where we spent an inordinate amount of time trying to put together the tent. It was a gigantic eight-man contraption that was loaned to us by Yousuf's sister and her husband.<br />
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You know that saying about too many cooks in the kitchen? I suspect the same is true about tent-raising, and after a few vain attempts at "helping" but really just getting in the way, I decided to retire to the comfort of my camera and leave the rest to the experts. <br />
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<i>Inara is now a Tent Expert, or so she claims. I actually think she was far more useful than I was. </i></div>
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Behold, La Casa del George! This roomy getaway is tall enough to stand up in, and even to jump on air mattresses without bonking your noggin against the roof. Don't ask me how I know.<br />
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After all that hard work, it was practically time for dinner. And one person in particular was plumb tuckered out, because tent-raising is no easy task, you know. I know from experience that it is definitely not for the faint of heart. <br />
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I think that this was the best sleep the poor man has had in over five years. Badly sleeping babies will do that to a weary soul. Yousuf looked so peaceful that we barely had the heart to disturb him, so we quietly arranged dinner while Sleeping Beauty worked hard to earn his nickname. After a while the sun began to set, and we thought SB must be getting chilly, so we started a fire to keep him warm...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwGyFUDfRtzWLMGHUTL6rGm2aczC8r1DHWx6bEEdDWXLiGo8xkWWamPOdr-dAlQAsnQhwl9EJ7X9zNozCgjCxo37nZSGXA9Vo7IUrF4wUal42BhDCjU8S8w50Z6gKOrByfuGp6dTojGBo/s1600/20110816-IMG_2138.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwGyFUDfRtzWLMGHUTL6rGm2aczC8r1DHWx6bEEdDWXLiGo8xkWWamPOdr-dAlQAsnQhwl9EJ7X9zNozCgjCxo37nZSGXA9Vo7IUrF4wUal42BhDCjU8S8w50Z6gKOrByfuGp6dTojGBo/s640/20110816-IMG_2138.jpg" width="452" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeEX2wXgY2UElr_V0QfIhMleIh6Gfy70OOqu5dTmgqIHaposa0B5oUtQ1kkOsssLo1xfjmKuGrfRFUkQXk_DYMgAOtvX65drXo7FHCIEvo2646j0owbYZiirwKOMYXP8GePypcuGlXywg/s1600/20110816-IMG_2136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
and took some more pictures of the cozy little scene that was created...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeEX2wXgY2UElr_V0QfIhMleIh6Gfy70OOqu5dTmgqIHaposa0B5oUtQ1kkOsssLo1xfjmKuGrfRFUkQXk_DYMgAOtvX65drXo7FHCIEvo2646j0owbYZiirwKOMYXP8GePypcuGlXywg/s1600/20110816-IMG_2136.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeEX2wXgY2UElr_V0QfIhMleIh6Gfy70OOqu5dTmgqIHaposa0B5oUtQ1kkOsssLo1xfjmKuGrfRFUkQXk_DYMgAOtvX65drXo7FHCIEvo2646j0owbYZiirwKOMYXP8GePypcuGlXywg/s640/20110816-IMG_2136.jpg" width="428" /></a></div>
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...while Yousuf slept on, oblivious. Truly the man was in his element, out there amongst the trees and sounds of nature lulling him into a deep, relaxing slumber. <br />
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(I cannot believe how different he and I are. Give me a comfy bed and room service any day and I'll tell you how comfortable sleeping can really be.)<br />
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Sleeping Beauty had impeccable timing too. He woke up, refreshed, just in time for the time-honored tradition of The Roasting Of The Marshmallows. This is a George Family Tradition in which you attempt to peel of layer after layer of crisp, toasted marshmallow until you can go no further. <br />
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Yousuf is a master at this.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk9jQdoiHiwnUK6VEhAL8FSzgYRFryXEgve4SOOCCniubHqQ8kZNjD0KmorfBQDJd4gnT5NpR2yjuzBBi6_Od5-0Y4N_xtTGkqdbeb3Lz4jx1UvrzHPBDhpLqSPHRk9MMsSd7A9K4RN8k/s1600/20110816-IMG_2199.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk9jQdoiHiwnUK6VEhAL8FSzgYRFryXEgve4SOOCCniubHqQ8kZNjD0KmorfBQDJd4gnT5NpR2yjuzBBi6_Od5-0Y4N_xtTGkqdbeb3Lz4jx1UvrzHPBDhpLqSPHRk9MMsSd7A9K4RN8k/s320/20110816-IMG_2199.jpg" width="230" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJqKuPU20tSTNkJHtZOvVWCC87eIpu8AdDBd_O7yNSJXhkVj2hmbYrAESQSkzz8Blso6WY9OtZzEbodp9HchVFk4AHqVnIb8i36Kov5uFhQpB07ZCYneRzUdOMJY2bUmeA3ZHWag0FaO0/s1600/20110816-IMG_2203.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJqKuPU20tSTNkJHtZOvVWCC87eIpu8AdDBd_O7yNSJXhkVj2hmbYrAESQSkzz8Blso6WY9OtZzEbodp9HchVFk4AHqVnIb8i36Kov5uFhQpB07ZCYneRzUdOMJY2bUmeA3ZHWag0FaO0/s320/20110816-IMG_2203.jpg" width="241" /></a></div>
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It was the girls' first time roasting, and they were lovingly indoctrinated into the fold with the help of their Grandparents. I don't think it will be a memory that is soon forgotten. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWPCtwAs0TVqtJzJvSg40zg-nJrg6LB485DPm85pTlfBKcGggMqFK3q7f5iy_72Vj6wWoZViFRuwehr1S3fR5vGuOTXvYNGvGRowLgzPDWcmzU0vX7_7SL6f1qgRcl8UnKwhnamT_5QT0/s1600/20110816-IMG_2206.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWPCtwAs0TVqtJzJvSg40zg-nJrg6LB485DPm85pTlfBKcGggMqFK3q7f5iy_72Vj6wWoZViFRuwehr1S3fR5vGuOTXvYNGvGRowLgzPDWcmzU0vX7_7SL6f1qgRcl8UnKwhnamT_5QT0/s640/20110816-IMG_2206.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>I spy with my little eye...</i><br />
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Correction: Inara was indoctrinated, while Nissa went straight for the
mallows, sans roasting. She's all about quantity, not quality, that one. Within a few moments, she was covered from head to toe in mallow goo, and she was on cloud nine...and going higher with every sugar-laden bite. </div>
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I never stand a chance when it comes to marshmallow roasting, it takes far too long and one has to have a certain tranquil calm about them to get it <i>just right</i> (and I wonder where Nissa gets her impatience from). It's not for me...but! This certainly was for me. ALL FOR ME.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGy36yj-4A2_Hz2Ja81Vs27U-vDvZIhEL_PtKHlfkQgNL8log44QqT6cj4rTUpiNVs_AykcUieNOOFBta2MTO0ovkK-usbX1VbWSzVm-VZy62ei5Gx_htyTvJUymqy5_fBclyotpZdTf8/s1600/20110816-IMG_2216.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGy36yj-4A2_Hz2Ja81Vs27U-vDvZIhEL_PtKHlfkQgNL8log44QqT6cj4rTUpiNVs_AykcUieNOOFBta2MTO0ovkK-usbX1VbWSzVm-VZy62ei5Gx_htyTvJUymqy5_fBclyotpZdTf8/s640/20110816-IMG_2216.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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It was a thing of beauty. I shall miss it terribly. <br />
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Campfires too, are a thing of beauty - Inara and Nissa had never been so close to dancing flames and crackling logs. We kept them well back, and showed them how to take slow deliberate steps so as to not accidentally fall close to the flames. They listened well, and we had a grand time together, alternating between raucous story-telling (thanks to Papa's expertise), and quiet, introspective gazing as the fire told it's own tale, glowing stronger in the fading light.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT2HbDTtwUvWtsKmVw8piHp7oGqS063kL9HqRJG1JZvRKf24KfTCpIDUhEJon0UqG-KUVxZw3TZmh1Ef_IImsgMy18805F_1mkCxp0oy19DwvL8hYHykwvyBzEF7lhpyZsIy2cvMRQDaQ/s1600/20110816-IMG_2146.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT2HbDTtwUvWtsKmVw8piHp7oGqS063kL9HqRJG1JZvRKf24KfTCpIDUhEJon0UqG-KUVxZw3TZmh1Ef_IImsgMy18805F_1mkCxp0oy19DwvL8hYHykwvyBzEF7lhpyZsIy2cvMRQDaQ/s640/20110816-IMG_2146.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<i>Fire, fire, burning bright.</i></div>
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<i>In the forests of the night...</i></div>
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(all due apologies to <a href="http://www.bartleby.com/101/489.html">William Blake</a>, but we like our version better!)</div>
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Taking pictures of campfires is one of my most favorite things (says the girl who prefers hotel getaways to any outdoor expedition). In general, I find inanimate objects to be far more satisfying to photograph, as they tend to not run away or pitch a fit when they get annoyed by my endless clicking. But fires are different, they aren't exactly inanimate - and they have life all their own, one that draws the eye in and soothes the restless soul. We all felt it every evening, after the stillness brought on by the setting sun. <br />
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Our nights were spent tucked under blankets, huddling together as we fell asleep to the chirping of crickets. Every night at around 2am, Yousuf and I would be woken up by the rising crescendo of coyotes calling, and answering - the howls echoing all around us under the cover of darkness. The melodies were thrilling, and eerily haunting. Listening to those calls gave me goosebumps every time. A few hours later we'd wake again, this time to the morning calls of birds and babies, who woke up as the sun rose every morning. This was not, I soon discovered, ideal - as you can see here:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt_YrSjvgef00jj9CCo4-HdIcO8G6N-RhcJV6VjGGIlt8hYazyk3Hw3kayNocXvN2mMmsHUwhquND35DiywerEr5FrCpqOWtqoR_8UxdvLvlFWOS-62AHaAFs2NIidASOxjt9Vp7nHtm4/s1600/20110818-IMG_2349.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt_YrSjvgef00jj9CCo4-HdIcO8G6N-RhcJV6VjGGIlt8hYazyk3Hw3kayNocXvN2mMmsHUwhquND35DiywerEr5FrCpqOWtqoR_8UxdvLvlFWOS-62AHaAFs2NIidASOxjt9Vp7nHtm4/s640/20110818-IMG_2349.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i> So NOT ready to wake up. Need caffeine stat.</i></div>
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Nevertheless, we all clambered out of the warm blankets and into the cool morning, blinking against the sun's rays and thanking our lucky stars that we had only a short walk to endure before we were welcomed with a hot breakfast. And caffeine. Thank goodness for grandparents with RV's, because this is as "roughing it" as I am ever going to get:<br />
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<i>Camping in style!</i></div>
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Mornings at the campsite were peaceful, so peaceful - there was nowhere to rush off, no schedule that needed keeping, it was a forced disconnection from the world that was a welcome reminder to just...be. And to enjoy the sky above us, the trees all around...</div>
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...and the little sun-kissed faces that peeked out from behind tabletops, beckoning us to forget our cares, for a little while.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3N_grO3Ny_okwgOPlx4bFDiDMwwAgruS2q7jQjeCrqfYvfRQzsh1l1HpOTrHRHY6bPtDFnss-lb4NPcz4CJ1IQU33zC93bHUbafpyjmKVzoKc_Z3-Rh-bq54Y8pCFK_AVso70mErtyPg/s1600/20110817-IMG_2222.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3N_grO3Ny_okwgOPlx4bFDiDMwwAgruS2q7jQjeCrqfYvfRQzsh1l1HpOTrHRHY6bPtDFnss-lb4NPcz4CJ1IQU33zC93bHUbafpyjmKVzoKc_Z3-Rh-bq54Y8pCFK_AVso70mErtyPg/s640/20110817-IMG_2222.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Nissa's favorite part of the trip was any moment in which she was happily ensconced in playing in the dirt. If we even thought about prying her away, we got told off - two year-old style:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8VGkz1cW8eQK9bv-yjMrt-cCJNbRkIR2CL6C2XEQ0-kN7CKBSY0RLCQcl_W0_kaCYQP4Boyx7UVOI7GYB7ptqxTCvz2Q6KHFUee69KP_IIPGcC7BzCkByGYer646_4jULx8Cot_Ce9Gk/s1600/20110817-IMG_2225.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8VGkz1cW8eQK9bv-yjMrt-cCJNbRkIR2CL6C2XEQ0-kN7CKBSY0RLCQcl_W0_kaCYQP4Boyx7UVOI7GYB7ptqxTCvz2Q6KHFUee69KP_IIPGcC7BzCkByGYer646_4jULx8Cot_Ce9Gk/s640/20110817-IMG_2225.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6kUt9OqndRG20tC1vDHFbBykmIy_spaotNBg6dH0H0IVxHkZUypCMXbF-IqDsduoWsZcomciX0vtEPt24sdSkhq2rrFPoyBTwD8D0OYpdq80Twi36QgLy4YRCQSqIJY1mAsVrWIUM6Q0/s1600/20110817-IMG_2229.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6kUt9OqndRG20tC1vDHFbBykmIy_spaotNBg6dH0H0IVxHkZUypCMXbF-IqDsduoWsZcomciX0vtEPt24sdSkhq2rrFPoyBTwD8D0OYpdq80Twi36QgLy4YRCQSqIJY1mAsVrWIUM6Q0/s640/20110817-IMG_2229.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Well okay, then.<br />
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Because our plans to swim were thwarted by yucky bacteria, we decided to hike instead. We entered the cool quiet of the forest at mid-morning, and emerged at lunchtime a little dustier, a little tired, and full of interesting stories. Satiated by a grand adventure, I always like to say.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWb5rpvo37u-gaYscJE43DwCW2eRvpzSuuOVX8hBmdKghpZ_1WU1Bvo2O3axvqHLg1-K5TT7Js6Wd5aWd28Z3_rLnRh_72bqNcHutkokK4vhDlnsLlnBm_0eXbQzfXOQ5fvyYCOOyzVZ0/s1600/20110817-IMG_2260.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWb5rpvo37u-gaYscJE43DwCW2eRvpzSuuOVX8hBmdKghpZ_1WU1Bvo2O3axvqHLg1-K5TT7Js6Wd5aWd28Z3_rLnRh_72bqNcHutkokK4vhDlnsLlnBm_0eXbQzfXOQ5fvyYCOOyzVZ0/s640/20110817-IMG_2260.jpg" width="438" /></a></div>
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<i>Moss grows fat on a rolling stone...</i></div>
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Wandering about under the canopy of trees we spied tiny woodland creatures out of the corners of our eyes and fantastical growths under our feet. We explored to our hearts' content as we swung on vines while the girls chased butterflies, balancing on gigantic fallen tree-trunk beams, and exclaiming with delight as the world around them became their own private playground.<br />
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<i>Donut Tree</i></div>
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The following day, which was our last day camping, we were pleasantly surprised to find that the beach had reopened (despite one employee telling us otherwise. Grrrr!). We didn't discover this until after dinner, when the shadows had grown long and the water had gone cool...yet we weren't to be deterred.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRu5VYvpcxl5kmOXVVD6_OzD6rZwqwbyqnWstTYUIZUNnODdlqu-LwQMsyQ7O9pIh4QyjdTpHcIGkBjccH9BZE1755rK6gvQrizuAHUH0a3bo9sF9tfGc7dIwyvO2Pi_CiMfGV1VhC_h8/s1600/20110817-IMG_2313.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRu5VYvpcxl5kmOXVVD6_OzD6rZwqwbyqnWstTYUIZUNnODdlqu-LwQMsyQ7O9pIh4QyjdTpHcIGkBjccH9BZE1755rK6gvQrizuAHUH0a3bo9sF9tfGc7dIwyvO2Pi_CiMfGV1VhC_h8/s640/20110817-IMG_2313.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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The girls were determined to swim and play in the sand and so, bolstered by their
enthusiasm, we dipped one toe in...and then another, following their
lead. Before we knew it, the waves were washing over our knees and toes,
pulling us all into the current of another simple moment, another grand memory, and caressing us with the laughter
of little ones as they scampered around us, barefoot in the sand.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyZVn5YNDmprWIceVrerCXvM9KKFqK21sbIX9om9pFloPspHM3L3-GLcUHMWYoM13CXgoaT6rJvBl9UzfNBN_cBzERhPwQ_93X_CHIwdd9dIqWfkrzeO29GJaXdaGMhik8BegTQby6pOg/s1600/20110817-IMG_2303.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyZVn5YNDmprWIceVrerCXvM9KKFqK21sbIX9om9pFloPspHM3L3-GLcUHMWYoM13CXgoaT6rJvBl9UzfNBN_cBzERhPwQ_93X_CHIwdd9dIqWfkrzeO29GJaXdaGMhik8BegTQby6pOg/s640/20110817-IMG_2303.jpg" width="640" /></a> </div>
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We each embarked on our own adventure there on the shore, which is the very beauty of being outside for days on end. After a little while, I found myself hovering less and less, worrying even lesser, and marveling a great deal as I watched the girls discover the great wide world all on their own. There wasn't much else for us to do, other than sit back and marvel along right beside them. <br />
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<i>Found Treasure - they are sitting in a bowl on the piano right now, my reminder to be open to all the unexpected surprises that hide in plain sight.</i></div>
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<i>My own personal slow-mo Baywatch moment. A magnificent view, I'd say.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT3L8MafzPg8Q98643ocd26lm-_GbDIZEpjkYpMsZIbRTkVZT5FWVPzgK86tCzcBeA7myCfmY_J6jYQivwqk75zHpfrQAgb4FUi1E3QJNUjAN1SAy7DjriZfLDg49IVyw6up_sCK96SlU/s1600/20110817-IMG_2299.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT3L8MafzPg8Q98643ocd26lm-_GbDIZEpjkYpMsZIbRTkVZT5FWVPzgK86tCzcBeA7myCfmY_J6jYQivwqk75zHpfrQAgb4FUi1E3QJNUjAN1SAy7DjriZfLDg49IVyw6up_sCK96SlU/s320/20110817-IMG_2299.jpg" width="233" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCO_qB18pWt56J7M4naFB7ByufpSgVlzbz8CihUlNgLRxK2Fvx_-E3CPz3LgK3D8J8cgRWWOEXxFqlHhrcBv9rH_PUlIcGAXzU7gNGg5rE4VIE21MEocQ-sCyhncvGDspRYOmUOd3rG3g/s1600/sophia-loren-beach1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCO_qB18pWt56J7M4naFB7ByufpSgVlzbz8CihUlNgLRxK2Fvx_-E3CPz3LgK3D8J8cgRWWOEXxFqlHhrcBv9rH_PUlIcGAXzU7gNGg5rE4VIE21MEocQ-sCyhncvGDspRYOmUOd3rG3g/s320/sophia-loren-beach1.jpg" width="252" /></a></div>
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<i>While the girls are off playing, I like to sit around and channel my inner Sophia Lauren. But I don't think she ever had a soggy diaper lying around in the background. </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib2EbWxwz9-SgLGfJyeJsKE5nxVZgmD3KpNKKZMjrZl31WxjFO93cj5gT3o1HDHB_vMvAlAQ73sfCk7N2I5soC58jq1OHv3KBpbwyxlQHclRa1Bgm9oKLeL7caF11Bk6fCyzfInKUG6u4/s1600/20110817-IMG_2310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib2EbWxwz9-SgLGfJyeJsKE5nxVZgmD3KpNKKZMjrZl31WxjFO93cj5gT3o1HDHB_vMvAlAQ73sfCk7N2I5soC58jq1OHv3KBpbwyxlQHclRa1Bgm9oKLeL7caF11Bk6fCyzfInKUG6u4/s640/20110817-IMG_2310.jpg" width="418" /></a></div>
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<i>Pure happiness. And a really cute tushie too.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZyToBNU3Sc8QkPXGsOwWX5TL4pIYnqRSl_TlRhIDE7Iacn7nLpJIby52Rac4KGAXMiRYxx_NJK6SolpY5LSoPdesSvs37xxDzdFSkK-SWqCEv2FQGjJyBEo_EoZ_7PSsVP-OCHBHQcsg/s1600/20110817-IMG_2338.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZyToBNU3Sc8QkPXGsOwWX5TL4pIYnqRSl_TlRhIDE7Iacn7nLpJIby52Rac4KGAXMiRYxx_NJK6SolpY5LSoPdesSvs37xxDzdFSkK-SWqCEv2FQGjJyBEo_EoZ_7PSsVP-OCHBHQcsg/s640/20110817-IMG_2338.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Baby sis - happy in the dirt. Again.</i> </div>
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We called it a night when we were just too cold to continue, although we tried our hardest to stick it out for as long as possible. We finally left the beach, hand in hand, soggy diaper in tow, with the sun at our backs, smiles on our faces, and in Nissa's case - sand in our shorts. Really, we couldn't have asked for much more. I took this single shot as we were headed back to camp, glancing back at the most perfect moment:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4wTmnf4Iw1IAujnObTTyClc-gpJKaJiPh5tx60LJGaWybXuihuKjneA0owduCrHLUAFahxGKYv5sQY_Cw-32zDnCPHkx9sZYgO8WyQVwXF_YFHofIgIcXNhAsG0Nl3_oTBhfm_oit82w/s1600/20110817-IMG_2315.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4wTmnf4Iw1IAujnObTTyClc-gpJKaJiPh5tx60LJGaWybXuihuKjneA0owduCrHLUAFahxGKYv5sQY_Cw-32zDnCPHkx9sZYgO8WyQVwXF_YFHofIgIcXNhAsG0Nl3_oTBhfm_oit82w/s640/20110817-IMG_2315.jpg" width="456" /></a></div>
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All of us slept soundly that night, after our busy evening on the beach - and had a slow start the next morning. We took our time to pack up our tent and gear while taking breaks to enjoy one last catnap, one last page of a favorite book, one last giggle together...enough to look back on fondly. Which we will, about everything minus the big welty bug bites that we all brought home as souvenirs. Ouchie.</div>
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<i>Inara said that the bug bites were one of two things she didn't like very much about camping. The second thing was - you know, <a href="http://www.venividiblogi.com/2011/08/camping-101.html">the leaves</a>.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOzUmCIoIO4hWF_O2pSwNO7tg6Uk6Ww21QCC-ZbkYzic5v8cE_75w7dxpF8HU-uvj_H4VWk3lh3Im0ja2fMVturJYgyaHdAyy52apXuo-5nzbE0ymroGj1GFUzKlg6P3sG0KLaiCtFUFc/s1600/20110818-IMG_2410.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOzUmCIoIO4hWF_O2pSwNO7tg6Uk6Ww21QCC-ZbkYzic5v8cE_75w7dxpF8HU-uvj_H4VWk3lh3Im0ja2fMVturJYgyaHdAyy52apXuo-5nzbE0ymroGj1GFUzKlg6P3sG0KLaiCtFUFc/s640/20110818-IMG_2410.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Nissa being cajoled out of an astoundingly terrific tantrum - which will be the subject of it's own future post. It was THAT good.</i></div>
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<b>Can we camp? YES WE CAN!</b><br />
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(That last picture makes me want to get us all matching "Go Team George!" t-shirts.)</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-20904053376267209042011-08-25T12:46:00.000-07:002011-08-25T15:49:56.893-07:00Litmus Test Of Stupidity.Whenever we visit the museum, Inara and Nissa's favorite exhibit is always the one about the Underground Railroad. We were there this morning, and instead of seeing all the new exhibits they wanted to go straight to their old stand-by, "The Railroad With No Trains".<br />
<br />
They think that the subdued lighting is peaceful, and they love that the exhibit is rarely, if ever, crowded - allowing them free rein of the space. They look forward to dressing in tattered rags and squeezing themselves into the hiding spots of re-created attic spaces. They pretend to "row to FREEEDOOM!" in the little wooden boat with the beaten-up oar while Inara looks for the North Star above.<br />
<br />
It all leaves me feeling very, very uncomfortable.<br />
<br />
Yet at the same time, I wonder if there is something to be said for the sweet breath of life that is swept into this tiny exhibit every time we are here. As we stack firewood in an old shed that was a safe house for escaping slaves, Inara hums to herself, blissfully unaware of the horrors of the past. I wonder if I am doing her a disservice by ignoring it.<br />
<br />
So I ask her about it. <br />
<br />
"Inara," I say casually, as we perch on rough stools and pretend to eat roots to survive.<br />
<br />
"Do you know, sweetheart - do you know what the Underground Railroad really was?"<br />
<br />
She putters around the table, holding a pot with a hole at the bottom that paints a dismal picture of a time not so long ago. "Oh sure, mama. I know exactly what it was."<br />
<br />
"Well, I'd really like to know what it was. Do you think that you could tell me?"<br />
<br />
"Yes, but only if we go in the rowboat first."<br />
<br />
Settled in the rowboat (her name is the Maple Leaf - which reminds me that as a Canadian, my history involving slavery is so strikingly different from that of my American-born children), we row over a carpeted lake, quietly, quietly. It's dark and we are not allowed to make any noise, the only light comes from above, given to us by the twinkling blanket of stars.<br />
<br />
"Well, Mama," she begins. "the Underground Railroad was a way for people to escape, a way for them to find a better life...." but she doesn't finish her sentence. She begins again with the same words, only to falter. And then she asks Yousuf, who is seated behind her, "But Daddy, what kind of people would need a better life? What are they escaping from?"<br />
<br />
(I'm personally relieved that the question has been directed towards Yousuf. How would I even begin to talk to my five year-old about slavery?)<br />
<br />
Yousuf doesn't miss a beat. He is not one to candy coat the uncomfortable truths of any situation, and this is no exception. <br />
<br />
"From slavery, Inara. The people were escaping from slavery."<br />
<br />
Inara nods, sagely. "Oh, yes. Slavery. But what is a slave, Daddy? Is that someone who works outside all day?"<br />
<br />
I realize that we are entering that sacred place and time, the one where we are about to say or do something as parents that will be so monumental that it will shape our child's view of the world, possibly forever. It's something that I instinctively shy away from, because the burden is often too much for me to bear. Inara however, seems to sense these moments and launch herself right into them, headfirst, almost every single time. Perhaps it is the benefit of her youth...but I suspect that it's actually a reflection of who she is. <br />
<br />
I hold Nissa tightly as Yousuf answers, breathing in her baby hair smells of sunshine and outside and yes, freedom. I tuck my head into Nissa's neck watching, waiting, for what comes next. <br />
<br />
"A slave, Inara, is someone who does not have freedom."<br />
<br />
Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. I watch Inara's head cock to the side as she takes it all in, and once again, I wait. <br />
<br />
"Freedom. That's what we're trying to find when we row this boat, right? Freedom. And it must be so hard for the slaves to get Freedom. But Daddy, can you tell me - why didn't the slaves have freedom?"<br />
<br />
I finally work up enough courage to add to the conversation, so I hold onto my wise five year-old's hands and look into her beautiful, confused eyes as I answer,<br />
<br />
"This is hard to understand, Inara, and it can be uncomfortable for people to talk about. But I want to tell you what happened. There were people who took freedom away and turned people into slaves. It should never have happened."<br />
<br />
Have I said the right thing? Have I said too much? <br />
<br />
Inara goes back to rowing, gazing over the carpet and somewhere else, entirely. Her eyes linger there, far away from the troubles of this conversation and a past that is too sad, too awful, too horrible, to contemplate. I see her come to a decision, and her voice is defiant as she proclaims,<br />
<br />
"Well. That's just silly, Mama. Slavery was silly and I don't understand it at all."<br />
<i><br />Oh, but darling. I think you do.</i><br />
<br />
And you never cease to amaze me with your own unique perspective. What a lucky Mama I am, to know you and to learn from you, each and every day. <br />
<br />
Later on, out of earshot of the girls, Yousuf shakes his head and remarks, "Now that's the true litmus test of stupidity, you know."<br />
<br />
"What do you mean?" I ask, having no earthly idea what he is talking about.<br />
<br />
"Well, take slavery for example. No matter how difficult a subject is to grasp - if you can't explain it to a five year old so that they can understand the basic concepts - well then, it's just a stupid idea to begin with. Don't you think?"<br />
<br />
All of a sudden, I have a inkling of where Inara gets her perspective. <br />
<br />
Yousuf is surprised when I answer him with an embrace. He asks me what it was for and I tell him the truth:<br />
<br />
"It's for not shying away from something difficult. It's for knowing the truth of what is right and wrong and for having the conviction to share that knowledge with our children. And mostly, for your litmus test of stupidity."<br />
<br />
"Well okay, then." he answers, and we walk out the door of the exhibit, hand in hand with our babies, watching, and waiting for whatever the world brings our way.<br />
<br />
**********<br />
<br />
<i style="color: #666666;">Please remember to enter the <a href="http://www.venividiblogi.com/2011/08/do-something-good-giveaway-mabels.html">Do Something Good Giveaway</a> today. You won't ever regret doing something nice for somebody else!</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-71434497969625608552011-08-24T12:59:00.000-07:002011-08-24T13:38:04.158-07:00Do Something Good Giveaway: Mabel's LabelsI have a secret to share with you.<br />
<br />
I have a sick obsession with organizing things.<br />
<br />
You'd think that would make my house look ten times neater than what does, but alas, that is not the case - because I have another secret to share with you...<br />
<br />
I'm also ever so slightly, just the teensy weensiest bit <i>insane.</i><br />
<br />
(Not to mention a tad obsessive.)<br />
<br />
The combination is a potent one, especially during high-stress times in my life. Like say, when MY ELDEST CHILD STARTS KINDERGARTEN.<br />
<br />
I have found that the best way for me to cope with the reality that my baby girl is actually going to be <i>leaving me</i> for an extended portion of the day is to obsessively and compulsively organize her off-to-school belongings. Obsessively (did I mention that already?). And repeatedly.<br />
<br />
Therefore, over the past couple of weeks, I have categorized her individual uniform pieces (including hair ties, socks and shoes) by color (light blue, dark blue, and black), comfortability (jersey skorts are more comfortable than jumpers are more comfortable than zip-up pleated skirts), and by dressy factor (sneakers are more casual than mary janes, obviously). And also a hundred other categories that I make up just for fun because I DON'T WANT HER TO LEAVE ME.<br />
<br />
But it doesn't matter how many different piles of clothes I make, because my big girl is still going to head off to school no matter what - and I know it's going to be a wonderful experience. But you know what would make it even more wonderful?
If all of her belongings were labeled.<br />
<br />
(Says the obsessively-organizing slightly too-attached mama.)<br />
<br />
I know that you're that feeling me on this. Nothing says "best foot forward" better than neat piles of polo shirts and jumpers all labeled with your kiddies' name. And even if I can't be there every second of the day to make sure that Inara doesn't leave her book bag or lunchbox at school (where she will be going WITHOUT ME waaaaah!), at least her labels will help to ensure that her cute little belongings are not lost forever to the abyss otherwise known as the Lost-And-Found Bin <i>dun dun duuuuun! </i><br />
<i> </i>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsmlgPjbVwkwx342gYtM3ZmWNxP3aKSMnMAwlg6xzPd99i-Ii1zgX5pOE8JGy-IYPOaF4dw83lzWM7hrR1g8Pk1lAeWlaC7E8D_28RMUjsJJdAdSA9EucNLmu9JLKSlhH_lZIyZs7CQnI/s1600/campschool5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Mabel's Labels" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsmlgPjbVwkwx342gYtM3ZmWNxP3aKSMnMAwlg6xzPd99i-Ii1zgX5pOE8JGy-IYPOaF4dw83lzWM7hrR1g8Pk1lAeWlaC7E8D_28RMUjsJJdAdSA9EucNLmu9JLKSlhH_lZIyZs7CQnI/s1600/campschool5.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
I recently purchased a set of <a href="http://www.mabel.ca/">Mabel's Labels</a> for just this purpose. Let me tell you that I was like a kid in a candy store hopped up on sugar and Red Dye #40 when I decided to take the plunge with these adorable labels. Mabel's Label's have long been the favorite of web-smart <a href="http://www.coolmompicks.com/2011/08/back_to_school_parents_lifesavers.php">Cool Moms</a> everywhere, because they are infinitely customizable (Inara loved picking out her own), as well as being famously laundry, microwave and dishwasher safe. I personally love that they come in every possible size known to mankind, and since I'm in the secret-sharing mood I'll drop another one right here - I've been coveting them <b>forever.</b><br />
<br />
It's true! But I never had a really good reason to snag a pack of Mabel's Labels...until now. Funny story: I had to basically present a Ph.D. dissertation to El Cheapitan before he agreed to get on board with me buying them. He hemmed and hawed for TWO DAYS before yielding to my irrefutable evidence proving the necessity of Mabel's Label's in our life.<br />
<br />
(In other words, what eventually swayed him was the fact that their best-selling <a href="http://www.mabel.ca/products/ultimate+back+to+school+combo">Ultimate Back-to-School Combo</a><a href="http://www.mabel.ca/products/ultimate+back+to+school+combo">™</a> was on crazy sale for a limited time only - so he had to <i>act fast</i> or lose out on saving mucho dinero. Mwah ha ha ha!)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pm7MY4hdFet5QwEkHnN5kdhghCXii2pNNBQzFELWOHUXMYX2BgFvm-Rv15qybDhowbGvYtOqyokGQS_1ajJQgcOIsfkZOkMJREkknUNanpCDxcxEFNu4tn76ufKU4Od37lpwY5mJwqM/s1600/20110823-IMG_2509.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pm7MY4hdFet5QwEkHnN5kdhghCXii2pNNBQzFELWOHUXMYX2BgFvm-Rv15qybDhowbGvYtOqyokGQS_1ajJQgcOIsfkZOkMJREkknUNanpCDxcxEFNu4tn76ufKU4Od37lpwY5mJwqM/s400/20110823-IMG_2509.jpg" width="390" /></a></div>
<br />
It ended up being a very good thing that I bought them, in spite of El Cheapitan's protestations. Practically <i>the first</i> thing out of the teacher's mouth at Inara's kindergarten orientation was to "Please, please, please LABEL EVERYTHING. And not just with a marker, because that will fade over time."
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Ha ha ha ha HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!<br />
<br />
I looked over at Yousuf and mouthed TOLD YOU SO.<br />
<br />
And he looked over at me and mouthed DID YOU PAY HER TO SAY THAT?<br />
<br />
Dweeb.<br />
<br />
But it made total sense - Inara and her little schoolmates will all be wearing unbearably adorable uniforms this year, so if I call the teacher up to say, "Inara left her lovely blue sweater at school yesterday, did you happen to see it at all?" She would probably throw her head back and laugh her face off at me UNLESS I ended that sentence with, "And it was LABELED! With her name! On a purple label with a cute little picture of books!!! YOU CAN NOT MISS IT."<br />
<br />
And then it shall magically reappear and all will be right with the world.<br />
<br />
But I also noticed something else at the orientation. When the teacher talked about the labels, she did it right after the school supply lists were handed out, and man were those lists LONG. I actually had no idea that schools were in need of so many essential items, but it makes sense given how badly our public schools are funded (/socialist rant).<br />
<br />
Anyway. I noticed that some parents visibly cringed after they were told that they not only had to buy supplies but also purchase labels. Add the cost of uniforms to that already-long list, and all of a sudden it becomes a lot of money - even for a middle-income family (like us). What happens to those families with more than one child in school? Or families that are having a hard enough time making ends meet as it is?<br />
<br />
So I got to thinking (which is dangerous, for one such as myself). What could <b>I</b> do about this? And that's when the seeds for this installment of the Do Something Good Giveaway were planted. I came home from the orientation and emailed the lovely ladies at Mabel's Label's right away with my plan - and guess what? They didn't laugh at me, because they are beautiful people who think altruism ROCKS (I swear that I'm going to put that on a t-shirt someday - ALTRUISM ROCKS).<br />
<br />
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So here's what we're going to do, kiddies. Mabel's Labels is going to give away, to one V2B Karmic Superstar, a highly sought-after <a href="http://www.mommymoment.ca/2011/08/Ultimate%20Back-to-School%20Combo" target="_blank" title="Ulimate Back to school combo">Ultimate Back-to-School Combo™</a>, which includes:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwEdxGluGSChYvc_mIOpBL-PkNb2hJ1i0yCO8WLXouTmRNHZTOk_aUuFnMK3kyJaK7Z53eEpF30TmI6Kr22vx1IjAL0Q-7yCFBL9Edw_pBzuXe4Yb7lkESctrX70lgvj7sck-yVxIF-as/s1600/ultimate-back-to-school-combo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Ultimate Back-to-School Combo" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwEdxGluGSChYvc_mIOpBL-PkNb2hJ1i0yCO8WLXouTmRNHZTOk_aUuFnMK3kyJaK7Z53eEpF30TmI6Kr22vx1IjAL0Q-7yCFBL9Edw_pBzuXe4Yb7lkESctrX70lgvj7sck-yVxIF-as/s1600/ultimate-back-to-school-combo1.jpg" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li style="text-align: center;">50 Tag Mates™</li>
<li style="text-align: center;">40 Skinny-Minis™</li>
<li style="text-align: center;">16 Shoe Labels</li>
<li style="text-align: center;">2 Teeny Tags™ </li>
</ul>
All personalized in your choice of color and design! But here's the catch. To win this Do Something Good Giveaway, you need to win them FOR SOMEONE ELSE. Not you. Or your kids. Or your dog. Or your goldfish. FOR SOMEONE ELSE.<br />
<br />
In other words, you have to Do Something really kick-ass Good.<br />
<br />
There is a handy dandy form below telling you about additional ways to enter, but what I would really love is to encourage you to think about a deserving person who would appreciate a set of Mabel's Labels, and who would not purchase them for themselves...for whatever reason. Especially during back-to-school time, there are so many families that may have a difficult time providing their children with much-needed supplies, and this giveaway will give us all a chance to make someone feel special, regardless of their circumstance.<br />
<br />
To that end, the <b>MANDATORY entry</b> for this giveaway is <b>one comment left below of a description (it doesn't have to include names or specifics) of someone deserving that you would choose to win a package of Mabel's Labels, other than yourself or your immediate family.</b> I will leave the creativity up to you (you can be as anonymous as you want to be), the sky is the limit!
So, if I were to enter my own giveaway (which I can't but which I wish I could, so I hope that one of my friends does for me!!) it would say something like,
<br />
<blockquote>
<i>"I would love to win the Ultimate Back-to-School Combo for a friend of mine who is going through a rough split with her partner. Her child is going to kindergarten this year and I know that she would like to make it a special year for her big kid!"</i></blockquote>
Easy enough, right?
(And remember, if you Tweet or Facebook about the giveaway, you will get an extra entry and I will LOVE YOU FOREVER TO INFINITY. Let's get MORE people to Do Something Good...so tell all your friends and family pretty please with a cherry on top!)<br />
<br />
The giveaway will run for a week - <b>the comments will close on Wednesday, August 31st, 2011</b> and I will randomly select a winner with the help of a dancing monkey and <a href="http://random.org/">random.org</a> that evening while dancing the cha-cha and holding pink fizzy (non-alcoholic) beverage in my right hand. It's a highly intricate process, so no pictures are allowed, lest they break my concentration.<br />
<br />
The winner will be announced on this blog on Thursday, September 1st, and will be contacted by email. Also, the giveaway is open to residents of Canada and the U.S. (word up to my fellow Canadians!). I hope to have many, many entries for this giveaway - I'm sure that anyone reading this can think of someone that needs this fabulous prize.<br />
<br />
If you're interested in purchasing Mabel's Labels for yourself - which you should totally do (because every obsessively-organizing slightly too-attached mama needs a set of these as THEIR BABIES LEAVE THEM), be sure to check out the Ultimate Back-to-School Combo on the Mabel's Labels <a href="http://www.mabel.ca/products/ultimate+back+to+school+combo">website</a>. They are only available until the end of September, so get 'em while you can! The company is also generously sponsoring a huge blog promotion for back-to-school season, and I know of many other blogs that are running their own giveaways concurrently with me. Check out Mabelhood on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/Mabelhood">Facebook</a> and <a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/mabelhood">Twitter</a> to find giveaways and score some for yourself (but don't forget to enter this one first! It's important! DO IT NOW. Please and thank you and did you know that you look absolutely stunning today?).<br />
<br />
And now for the Obligatory Disclaimer:<span style="color: grey;"><i> </i></span>
<span style="color: grey;"><i>I did not receive any Mabel's Labels products for testing, or for compensation of this post, nor did I receive any monetary compensation to write this post. </i></span><span style="color: grey;"><i>All personal opinions and views stated above are my own because I think the labels are rad and because I really truly want you to Do Something Good. </i></span><span style="color: grey;"><i>This post is not endorsed, sponsored or affiliated with Facebook, Twitter, or any other network, and is the sole property of Veni, Vidi, Blogi™</i></span><br />
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READY? SET? <b>GIVEAWAY! </b>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-29685305692771910522011-08-22T12:32:00.000-07:002011-08-22T17:57:51.709-07:00Happy Birthday, Sorry That I Ruined It.<br />
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<br />
Yousuf turned thirty three on Saturday. Normally, this would be an occasion for much fanfare and celebration, but due to me messing things up royally...it was something else altogether. The reason for all the insanity actually can be traced back to one precise moment. Which is of course, the day that I was born. <br />
<br />
The day that I was born occurred approximately six weeks before the day that Yousuf was born, in the same year of Our Lord Nineteen Hundred and Really OLD.<br />
<br />
And this, my friends, is proving to be a big problem.<br />
<br />
To be honest, the birthday insanity actually starts before my birthday in July, which I have begun to look less and less forward to as I go hurtling into a new year before my husband. It's like I'm strapped into the very first car of a death-defying roller coaster and I'm all, "WHHEEE!!! GRAY HAIR AND CROW'S FEET HERE I COME YEAAAAAHHH!!!"<br />
<br />
It's even worse afterward, because for the six weeks following my birthday I am a grumpy old hag. Yousuf, lovely man that he is, rarely ever teases me about the age difference between us, but if he even so much as looks at me sideways during that time, then I am all up in his bizness like a crazy person suffering from dementia. <br />
<br />
<i>"Why are you looking at me like that? Is it because I look six weeks older than you? Is it really that noticeable? Do you see any white hairs anywhere? Did you know that I woke up this morning and my hip hurt? It's because I'm ANCIENT. Do you think I'll start forgetting my name? My children's names? Your name? Will I forget that this conversation ever took place? Is it even taking place NOW? MAKE IT STOOOOOOOP!"</i><br />
<br />
And so on and so forth. For SIX WEEKS. I can't stop myself from doing it, even if I tell myself to knock it off. It's like my age is catching up to me and making me speak without thinking, which I'm told is a right reserved for the very aged. And the incredibly idiotic. <br />
<br />
So Yousuf's birthday is supposed to be this great celebration of him turning the same age as me FINALLY. It's the end of six weeks of self-imposed torture, and like everything else sentimental in our married life, I never cease to mess it right up. <br />
<br />
Like that time I got a sinus infection and fell asleep for twelve hours straight ON OUR WEDDING NIGHT.<br />
<br />
Yep, true story. I rock.<br />
<br />
On Dear Husband's birthday this weekend, I promised myself I would do better, because I knew that Yousuf deserved better than a lame last-minute homemade card. But of course things turned out not according to plan. Again. <br />
<br />
First of all, we wanted to get him something really special for dinner, and he said that he wanted Thai food. And I was all set to go and get it, even though I have never been to that particular restaurant before. But that wasn't going to be a problem because that's what GPS systems are for, right? Except then Yousuf said that I would probably miss it even with the GPS because it was hidden, and so he said that he would be happy to get it himself.<br />
<br />
So I sent my husband to get his own birthday meal.<br />
<br />
While he was gone, we set the table and got everything <i>juuuuussst</i> right. He and his father (who paid for the meal so it wasn't like I messed up completely) came back with the food and it was so good. Perfect even. Until after dinner, when I was supposed to get the cake out so that we could sing Happy Birthday to him. <br />
<br />
Which is when I remembered that Yousuf wanted an ice cream cake, which I had bought earlier and which I had forgotten to take out of the deep freezer to thaw. <br />
<br />
Ooopsie.<br />
<br />
So we had no birthday cake to sing happy birthday with, and I felt like a total putz. But then Yousuf remembered that we had donuts and we could just stick some candles in the donut and call it a day. Except that the day before, his father and I planned to play a harmless birthday prank on Yousuf and we hid all of the donuts except for a tiny piece of his favorite flavored one so when he went to get the donut to stick some candles in, all that was left was that one itty-bitty bite-sized chunk of donut. <br />
<br />
And he was kind of pissed at all of us - well at me, mostly - because I basically messed everything up, without intending to...but still.<br />
<br />
(I totally blamed my advanced age.)<br />
<br />
It would have been kind of funny, if it wasn't so pathetic. <br />
<br />
Oh, and the present! So when it was my birthday in July I really wanted this one flavor of lip balm that isn't even manufactured anymore (Lip Smackers Mango). Correction: it IS manufactured, but you can only get it in a package with two other flavors that make me yak. Sorry, I can't help it - they just do. Old people are sensitive to some flavors, you know. What's that you say? That's totally unequivocally untrue? I'm sorry, I can't hear you. I must be going deaf as well. <br />
<br />
So you wanna know what Yousuf ended up doing for my birthday? He found a dude on ebay and <i>bought his entire stock</i> of Lip Smackers Mango chapstick. <br />
<br />
And all I got for him this weekend was a bike helmet.<br />
<br />
Which is what he wanted, but I could have thought outside the box to get
him something more...fantastic, maybe? But, no. I didn't.<br />
<br />
But look! The bike helmet is really cute, especially when our children
steal it from him and don't even let him try on his own birthday
present.
<br />
<br />
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And remember how I promised to NOT make him a lame last-minute homemade card?<br />
<br />
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Yeah, I totally forgot about that too.<br />
<br />
It's because I'M OLD, Guys. Like so old that I can't even remember to defrost a birthday cake old. <br />
<br />
Happy Birthday to the best father, the best husband, and my best friend. Sorry that I ruined your special day, but maybe I can make it up to you later tonight, after the kids are in bed...<br />
<br />
...but only if I don't fall asleep first.<br />
<br />
**********<br />
<br />
<i>Stay tuned later in the week for another Do Something Good Givewaway! This one is going to be really fantastic, friends - and it's just in time for back-to-school. You won't want to miss it. Hint: The prize rhymes with "Fable's Cables". Eeek, I'm so excited about it! Tell all your friends to enter!</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-25835730661483560702011-08-18T11:57:00.000-07:002011-08-18T11:57:45.771-07:00Camping 101.We're back from our two-day camping extravaganza, and still unwinding from the <strike>ordeal</strike> trip. I've got tons of pictures to share, but wouldn't you know it - my computer died the day before we left for our trip, and all I have on it right now are typing/internet capabilities. I am without photo editing power and frankly, I feel like I've lost a limb. So you get yet ANOTHER post without pictures and I don't know how long we can keep this up. I feel like sooner or later I'm going to run out of things to say...<br /><br />Ah, who am I kidding? Me? Run out of things to say? NEVER.<br /><br />I think that we had a great time camping, until the girls hit their no-sleep limit as we were packing up to come home this morning and just started flat-out yelling at us.<br />
<br />
(I would insert the picture here if I could.) <br />
<br />
Nissa's tantrum was unintelligible, but oddly enough, Inara's tantrum sounded like, "I WANT TO GO HOME TO SEE MY Mii's!!!"<br />
<br />
Which is how you know your child has been playing too much Wii of late. Ahem.<br /><br />I'd say that on the whole, Nissa did far better with being outdoors for two days straight than Inara did. Nissa basically sat in dirt for 48 hours and rubbed detritus all over her legs - she was in heaven, with nobody to stop her from eating, playing, and bathing in the underbrush. She definitely takes after Yousuf's side of the family - who don't bathe in dirt, but really don't mind getting a little dirty. After all, that's what camping is all about, right?<br /><br />According to Inara and I - WRONG.<br /><br />I don't know what Inara thought camping was all about, and perhaps I should have prepared her a little better. I have had a whopping TWO camping trips under my belt, both of which came as a shock to my system (but I trusted my very experienced husband to get me through them, preferably alive). But of course, Inara hasn't had the benefit of experience to rely on. Some of her more choice phrases over the course of the two days included:<br /><br />(as we were driving to our camp site): "Gosh. There's a lot of leaves here. I don't know if I'm going to like this."<br /><br />(as we were hiking): "These twigs keep GETTING IN MY WAY."<br /><br />(at every breakfast): "The only way I would do this again is if we had roasted marshmallows. All the time."<br /><br />One of the reasons we picked the campground we did was because it was only 45 minutes away from home (so that we could run home again in case our first family camp didn't go as well as planned), and also - the main attraction - was that there was a beach. All Inara wanted to do was go somewhere to swim. Because as we all know, leaves are just weird and clearly not a normal part of the camping experience. <br /><br />So we get to the park and wouldn't you know it - but there was a huge sign declaring for all the world to see: <br /><br />NO SWIMMING TODAY DUE TO HIGH LEVELS OF BACTERIA.<br /><br />You remember that freak storm that I wrote about in my <a href="http://www.venividiblogi.com/2011/08/not-superpower-id-choose-but-its-only.html">last post</a>? Well, the devastating effects not only blew up (literally) in our house...but they followed us all the way to the lake. Apparently, the storm dumped so much water into the sewer systems that they just overflowed into the lake, and well, that's a lot of yucky bacteria floating around. <br /><br />Because my bladder is <i>that</i> powerful, guys. <br />
<br />
Inara BLEW HER NUT. And Issie soon followed, because she has to do whatever Inara does even if she has no idea why she is doing it. <br /><br />We managed to talk Inara down off the proverbial ledge, explaining that we could still do fun things while camping. Actually, I left the explaining to Yousuf and his parents because what the heck do I know about camping? They managed to convince her that roasting marshmallows, hiking, and exploring the playgrounds could be just as much fun as you know, AWESOME BEACH FUN (while I, rather wisely I might add, kept my mouth shut and nodded pleasantly in agreement). <br />
<br />
And we did have fun - thanks to Yousuf's parents guiding us through the trip. We definitely couldn't have camped without their many years of experience (and their RV! Talk about luxury!). Other than the fact that every single park employee that we met was absolutely useless, we had a fantastic time. <br /><br />Oh, and the skunks. I could have lived without the skunks roaming around our campsite after dark. <br /><br />And also the coyotes. Which never bothered us but FREAKED ME RIGHT OUT. <br /><br />And also the leaves. KIDDING.<br /><br />On our last evening camping, we decided to stroll along the beach just to see what it looked like. I'm glad that we did because when we got there it was full of people! And a lifeguard! In spite of the park employees telling us that there was no swimming. Remember how I told you they were useless? <br /><br />Yeah, that. <br /><br />So we ended up swimming anyway - and all was right in Inara's world. She was in her element, wading and splashing and getting her shorts full of algae (blech). A girl a little older than Inara came into the water beside her and she was so giddy that she glossed over her usual introductory pleasantries, getting right down to business so as to not waste any precious beach-frolicking time:<br /><br />"Hello! My name is Inara, and this is my Papa. He tickles a lot, but you don't have to worry about him. He's not dangerous."<br /><br />Hah!<br /><br />To her credit, the girl was only marginally weirded out. Until Inara followed that little gem with,<br /><br />"Also, I have a three-part question for you, if you want to be friends. What is your name, how old are you, and how far out into the water are you going?"<br />
<br />
Like I said - she was totally in her element.<br /><br /><i>Pictures to come as soon as my computer recovers. In the meantime, I am going to make sweet, sweet love to my shower - how I missed thee, running water!</i><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-24468415811842919252011-08-16T06:07:00.000-07:002011-08-16T06:07:10.104-07:00Not the Superpower I'd Choose, but it's the Only One I've Got.On Sunday afternoon I cleaned the bathroom on the main floor. This rare occasion of me getting down on my hands and knees to actually scrub the tub was due to the fact that Yousuf's parents were going to arrive any stinkin' minute, and OF COURSE I had left cleaning the bathroom to the absolute last second because remember it's my most favorite thing to do ever.<br />
<br />
I had grumbled and puttered around and put it off until it was obvious that the rest of the house was at <a href="http://www.venividiblogi.com/2010/03/shades-of-gray.html">Level 4 Cleanliness</a>, and that the bathroom remained as a black hole of disgusting gunge. So about twenty minutes before The Parents were due to arrive, you would have found me with my face two inches from the toilet bowl, scrubbing like my life depended on it. <br />
<br />
I finished up and stood back to admire my work. Every surface was so clean that I could see my reflection - a greasy, sweaty, stinky me - everywhere. The toilet bowl in particular was immaculate. You could not only eat off of it, but you could have made out with it and come away feeling even fresher than when you had started. I may hate cleaning the bathroom but once I decide to go ahead and actually do it, I kick it's porcelain hiney. <br />
<br />
At that moment, it started to rain - we've been having on and off thunderstorms for the past couple of days, so I thought that this was no big deal. OH HOW WRONG I WAS.<br />
<br />
This was no ordinary rain. It wasn't even ordinary heavy rain. This was legendary, biblical, forty days and forty nights type of rain, all in under half an hour. One moment we had sunshine and the next it looked like the middle of the night. The skies blackened and unloaded a torrent of rain, in sheets that were coming at the house <i>sideways.</i> I could barely see out the window but I could hear thunder, never-ending, all around us. The house was shaking with the force of the deluge. <br />
<br />
I peeked out the window and could barely see our van pull into the driveway - Yousuf had gone out with Inara to run some last-minute (see? I'm not the only one leaving things to the last minute!) errands, and as he did I noticed that the road was full of water. Not only that, but it had risen so high that it was pooling at the bottom of our driveway...and steadily creeping up towards the house. <i>Ruh-roh.</i><br />
<br />
Yousuf and Inara got soaked to the bone just running into the house, and poor Inara was shivering as she took off her shoes by the back door, so I ran upstairs and snuck past a napping Nissa's room to grab her some dry clothes. When I got back downstairs, Yousuf was in the basement putting away his purchases and Inara stood, huddled in the kitchen.<br />
<br />
That is when I heard...it. As I came down the steps I heard a deep rumbling outside (thunder) and then a strange hissing sound coming from somewhere even closer. I walked towards the kitchen where Inara was waiting and I started smelling something really off. This is going to sound so mean, but my first thought was that it was Inara. Like maybe she had stepped in some icky water and had brought the stench of urban sewer back into the house. I know - I'm terrible, even more so because the smell wasn't even coming from her.<br />
<br />
I started toweling her off while apologizing to her, which she thought was really weird. But that's when I heard the hissing get louder, and louder...you know when your toilet won't stop running? It was kind of like that, but much more forceful - and it wasn't coming from the bathroom. It was coming from <i>the house itself</i>. And the smell, my god. It was awful. I thought that perhaps the new bathroom cleaner I had used had a really horrible perfume additive that somehow reacted with my bathroom to smell like well, human waste. I made a mental note not to ever buy it again as I helped Inara get changed. Then I walked around the house trying to puzzle out where the smell was coming from - sniffing, deeply inhaling, and gagging. <br />
<br />
Meanwhile the sound of water rushing got louder and louder, the thunder outside got more frenzied, the skies got darker - and everything came to a head as I realized that the smell was coming from inside the bathroom itself. I creaked open the bathroom door and at that very moment there was a huge <i>BAM!</i> and from deep within the bowels (oh yes, I said bowels) of the basement I heard Yousuf screaming, "HOLY MOTHER! WHAT THE OH MY AHHHHHHH!"<br />
<br />
Or something to that effect.<br />
<br />
I would have gone down to see what on earth could have caused him to yell, but I had far more pressing matters of my own to deal with. I walked into the bathroom, determined to find the source of that god awful smell and took one step into the bathroom, nostrils flared, wild eyes darting around looking for any clues. <br />
<br />
I found nothing. <br />
<br />
So I took another step, deeper into the bathroom and checked the sink...<br />
<br />
Nothing. <br />
<br />
Another step, over to the tub - at this point the stank was unbearable. It smelled like a hundred people had just used my bathroom as a recovery station after having the world's spiciest curry. I took a step over to the tub and my foot came down, right in front of the toilet <i><b>spluck</b></i> into a puddle of light brown liquid. <br />
<br />
Oh. My. God.<br />
<br />
I didn't even want to know where it was coming from. I just looked back at the tub. And then I screamed. Inara came running. I screamed again - this time to tell her to GET AWAY FROM THE BATHROOM GO FIND DADDY NOW.<br />
<br />
To which she replied, "but I can't Mama! He's stuck in the basement and he's standing in a puddle of POOP!"<br />
<br />
OH MY GAAAAAAAWWWWWWWD.<br />
<br />
Apparently (and according to my friend Liz - I had no idea that a lawyer knew so much about city infrastructure!) the storm had come in so hard that it not only flooded the road right outside our driveway, but it also backed up the main sewer line...right into our house. <br />
<br />
Not only that, but the loud bang that I heard was sewage, gushing out into our basement with such force that it also went up the pipes all the way to the toilet on the main level, spewing out from underneath the CLOSED LID of the toilet and splattering allllllll over the entire bathroom. <br />
<br />
Right where I was standing.<br />
<br />
And right where I had JUST spent the better half of an hour cleaning everything to a brilliant shine.<br />
<br />
And remember, my in-laws were supposed to arrive AT ANY MINUTE.<br /><br />If this sounds at all familiar, it's because not even three months ago, <a href="http://www.venividiblogi.com/2011/05/birthday-blowout.html">I blew up the septic tank</a> at my brother's house after I had some rather erm, <i>unfortunate</i> side effects to my mom's ice cream birthday cake. It seems as if sewer lines and me...well, we just don't really get along. I could not believe this was happening AGAIN.<br />
<br />
As Yousuf poured buckets of water and bleach on the sludge in the basement (it wasn't a huge amount, thank goodness) to send the yuck down the drain, I had to decide how to clean the mess in the bathroom. I didn't want to use any of my regular cleaning towels, in fact I didn't want to do anything - I just wanted it to magically disappear and have my bathroom back to it's shimmering self pronto. I ended up grabbing two rolls of paper towel, the bathroom cleaner (again), and just for good measure I sent Inara down into the basement to wrench the bleach out of Yousuf's hands (<i>"But Mama needs it MORE than you, Daddy."</i> Atta girl.)<br />
<br />Of course, right in the middle of me cleaning the bathroom from top to bottom for THE SECOND TIME (a pox on you, nature!) was when Nissa woke up from her nap - screaming because the thunder outside had frightened her. I was wet from the knees down and had no good way to get to her, so I threw a few choice curses at nature for screwing up every single good thing in my life. Like napping babies and clean bathrooms. I did the best I could to disinfect myself before I ran up to get to her - but luckily Yousuf got there first (he wasn't nearly as disgusting as I was). <br />
<br />
I made it to her room just as Yousuf lifted her out of the crib, and she was spitting mad, sharing my anger at nature for ruining her precious sleep. As she cried out she took a great big gulp of air and stopped mid-wail, gasping. She wrenched her head around in the dark, looking for me and when she found me she narrowed her eyes in my general direction and yelled angrily, "AHHHHH! MAMA YOU SMELLIN' LIKE A STINKY POOPIE!!"<br />
<br />
Why yes, dear. Yes I am. How kind of you to notice.<br /><br />Later on, after all the disgustingness was cleaned up, and I had taken the longest shower of my life, scrubbing every pore on my body to get out the lingering traces of Eau De Toilet, my sister in-law called to find out if we had survived. I told her everything that had happened and wouldn't you know it, but the little stinker - she LAUGHED AT ME. <br /><br />"That SO figures!", she said over the phone, snickering. <br /><br />"What? WHAT figures?"<br /><br />"It just figures that if there was an explosion involving sewage, that YOU were involved in it somehow." <i>Guffaw guffaw guffaw.<br /></i>"Yeah well, I think it might be my new superpower, Becky. I have the power to make toilets explode with the sheer force OF MY MIND. Oh, you're laughing now, but just wait until I come and visit you. I suggest you keep a cleanup crew on speed dial. Now stop laughing."<br /><br />That's when Yousuf picked up the phone to commiserate with his sister, and they both decided that somehow <b>I </b>was responsible for the whole event. As if I somehow communed with nature to make our sewer line back up. Yousuf even said, "I wonder if this whole thing was caused by SOMEONE going the bathroom first." <i>Guffaw guffaw guffaw.</i><br />
<br />
As if my turds have super explosionaray powers. <br /><br />I vehemently denied it, of course. That's just impossible, not to mentioned far-fetched and if it were true then the army should totally harness the powers of my ass. It's a deadly weapon. <br /><br />I let them laugh it up, at my expense - because we all knew it wasn't true. <br /><br />(But what I didn't tell them was that I peed in that bathroom about two seconds before it exploded.)<br /><br />
BECAUSE MY BLADDER HAS SUPERPOWERS, GUYS.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-72169417204554195352011-08-12T13:08:00.000-07:002011-08-12T13:08:28.286-07:00Mirror, Mirror, On The Wall...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
We hung a new mirror downstairs and this is me showing it off to you. Never mind that half of the mirror is out of the shot because I zoomed in on myself instead. Sometimes you just have to celebrate the fact that you had enough time in the day to take a shower. Or that you're having a half-decent hair day. Can't you tell by my celebratory expression? I'm absolutely ecstatic. <br /><br />I would pass it off as my patented tough-chick expression, but the truth is that I couldn't quite figure out how to take a picture of myself and smile at the same time. <br /><br />Mostly because I have to figure out that walking and chewing gum thing first. <br />
<br />
Happy Weekend, Peeps! I'll see you on the flip side.<br />
<i>xoxoxmahreen</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-12800808407025101722011-08-11T13:22:00.000-07:002011-08-11T13:22:10.876-07:00Mood Music.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
People often ask me why we have an upright piano in our dining room. It's usually one of the first things they see when they walk into our house, and I can understand the curiosity. Why would <i>anyone </i>have a piano in their dining room? <br />
<br />
One of our very dear friends hooked us up with this lovely lady (yes, I just gave my piano a gender) back in January. She (my friend) told us about someone she knew who was looking to give away an old piano. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor when I heard that, because who would ever simply <i>give away</i> a piano? Well, the story was that the friend of my friend was getting a new piano and needed to make room for it by giving away her old one. I told my friend that she simply HAD to take the piano, and that afterward she needed to invite us over for playdates every day so that we could have some jam sessions. <br />
<br />
(Note: I can read music but only passably, and I have never had a jam session on a piano. But that was besides the point. Hello! FREE PIANO!)<br />
<br />
Having agreed to this (slightly unfair for my friend) arrangement, we went on our merry way, until...my friend called me later that evening, distraught. She had tried every possible rearrangement of all the furniture in her house, and there was absolutely no way that she could fit an upright piano anywhere. I was so sad for her, knowing that her mother is a piano teacher and how much it would have meant to share their love of music with my friend's young son. <br />
<br />
But then my friend asked me if there was any place in MY house for a piano. Without thinking for even half a second I said YES ABSOLUTELY UNEQUIVOCALLY YES. She graciously gave me the phone number of her friend and said that I should have the piano. And then she asked if she and her son could come over to my house every day for a jam session. Hah!<br />
<br />
I contacted the friend of my friend, who was expecting my call. She told me that her three children had learned to play on this old piano, and that she wanted to warn me that it was really, really well-loved. It was old (she guessed that it was made in the early 1900's), a bit beaten up, but none the worse for wear in terms of sound quality. I asked her if I could pay her something for it and she refused, saying that she was just happy that it was going to a house with children, instead of to the dump (which is where it was headed...she had tried to donate it but nobody could take it, even when she offered to pay to have it moved).<br />
<br />
I was so moved by the sound of the emotion in her voice. This piano was more than just an instrument for her family. It was coming to us as a gift wrapped in years of happy memories. I told her that we would treat it well - to which she said NO. She said that was the opposite of what she wanted, that her hope was that it would continue to be used, abused, clambered on, and loved. Now that was something I could absolutely promise her in return. <br />
<br />
We arranged to have the piano delivered to our house a few days later, but there were two teeny tiny problems:<br />
<br />
1 - We were going to be out of town on the day of the delivery, and it was the only day that the delivery could take place (the original family was getting their new piano and couldn't keep both).<br />
2 - I hadn't actually mentioned any of this to Yousuf. Nor was I even sure that we had room for the piano. <br />
<br />
I broke it to Yousuf gently, but really all it took was the magic words, "free including delivery". El Cheapitan immediately started moving furniture and measuring spaces all around the house while he worked out how to make room for this really fantastic, really full-sized, really FREE piano. <br />
<br />
We ended up with two potential options, and I called my friend to ask if she would supervise the movers on D-Day (D for delivery) Both she and her friend (the original owner of the piano) agreed to watch over the transfer, and I arranged to drop off extra keys to the house on our way out of town. Yousuf and I had done our best to clear a couple of piano-sized places on our main floor, but we knew that it was going to be cramped. We decided to leave the final decision to my friend, knowing that wherever the piano ended up, that was probably where it was going to stay. Exciting (and kind of scary)!<br />
<br />
I had to pinch myself in Toronto a few days later, knowing that when we returned home, we'd have a piano...somewhere in our house. I remember calling my friend about three hundred times that day, asking her if it was there yet (it wasn't), and wondering about where the piano would fit. I trusted my friend completely when it came to piano-placement; I knew that she would do her best to make it work. And hey - we were getting a free piano!!! Really, it didn't matter where it ended up as long as it was ours.<br />
<br />
My friend sent me a video late that evening, showing me where she decided to place the piano. I called her once more afterward and she said, "Fair warning, okay? It's HUGE. That was the only place it would work...and I think you should totally use it as a sideboard."<br />
<br />
We hadn't told the girls about any of this piano business, and it was so gratifying to see there little faces light up when they discovered the piano in our dining room. We had just gotten home after a very long drive and well, you can tell that this was the perfect way to end our trip...<br />
<br />
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<br />
...and that was just the beginning. Having our very own piano is a dream come true. I was never able to complete my piano lessons because my parents didn't have the expendable income. I always wanted to keep learning, though. And now I can - with my girls. We eat, we play, we eat some more and keep on playing as the sunlight fades outside. Yousuf does too, and between the two of us we can hammer out a fairly even Heart and Soul, while the girls twirl around beside us and beg us for more of the same song over and over and over again. I forgot how freeing it felt to play...just because you can.<br />
<br />
It's a wonderful gift, this piano in our dining room, and such a great story behind it's arrival. The girls absolutely adore it, and even though it's smack in the middle of our eating space - it's the perfect fit.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jiIErU6Oz35k5-0q_SqxG50Ueh_Bo3ks4U-fqMpdqevxSpi3vuXXuxh39U7ysSlmwvylQSZ8fjlSq08diNVsOmC6faf__YaaEmss_m_ioz8g6wi0OjvVisZDKexD1sCL40B684ivJ0E/s1600/20110419-IMG_8305.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jiIErU6Oz35k5-0q_SqxG50Ueh_Bo3ks4U-fqMpdqevxSpi3vuXXuxh39U7ysSlmwvylQSZ8fjlSq08diNVsOmC6faf__YaaEmss_m_ioz8g6wi0OjvVisZDKexD1sCL40B684ivJ0E/s640/20110419-IMG_8305.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
<br />
(Oh, and we haven't used it as a sideboard - yet. We've been too busy having jam sessions!)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-51459216864672543352011-08-09T12:50:00.000-07:002011-08-09T12:51:55.207-07:00Summer Snapshots: The Field Trip.I was sitting at my laptop the other day, looking through some of the pictures that we have taken of our little family over the summer. It occurred to me that there are approximately one hundred and four stories buried amidst all of those smiling faces, all stories that I need to tell. <br />
<br />
We've been up to our armpits in busy this summer however, and every time I sit down to tell you a story about what happened last week, another story comes bubbling up <i>right now</i>. So then I go to snap some more pictures and last week's story gets shelved, along with one from the week before that and the month before that and so on until I'm staring at a thousand pictures and it's the middle of August and where did my summer go again?<br />
<br />
I thought it would be fun to throw a whackload of pictures up from our adventures these past few months, in the hopes that I could share what we've been up to (and my family can stop pestering me to put up pictures of the girls. Bonus!) <br />
<br />
Here's the first set of my "Summer Snapshots", I took these at the end of JUNE which feels like a lifetime ago! Inara's Pre-Kindergarten class went on a field trip the week before school ended and the entire time I felt one big emotion after another.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> Me and my girl.</i></div>
<br />
As we walked to our destination, I marveled at all the little hands nestled safely within the big ones - how fragile, how trusting those tiny hands were, and how we were entrusted to hold on tightly...but not too tight, before we let those little hands loose to make their own way in the world. This sweet trio walking directly in front of us nearly did me in, not even two minutes into our walk. <br />
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<br />
I zoomed in on the dad and son, and saw his tiny hand...already showing signs of his individuality sprouting on his thumb. <i>Maybe he'll grow up be a rock star,</i> I thought to myself. <i>Maybe he'll grow up to be anything and everything</i>. On that morning, the possibilities were infinite.<br />
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Pride, joy, melancholy, wistfulness, awe, I ran the gamut on the emotional roller coaster that day - and actually, every day since. It's because Inara is off to kindergarten in just few short weeks, and the mere thought of it is playing havoc with my delicate emotional state. Why just this past weekend you would have found me clutching a bunch of on-sale powder blue uniform polo shirts in the middle of the mall and crying my eyes out....<br />
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<br />
...but that's a story for another time. <br />
<br />
When I look at just how much Inara has changed this past year, I can almost not recognize her. The little girl who was so forlorn at the beginning of the school year has been replaced by a bubbly, engaging sprite.<br />
<br />
She is someone who is full of friendship and laughter...<br />
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She is someone who willingly seeks out adventures in everyday moments (<i>be vewy vewy quiet...we're hunting wabbits!)...</i><br />
<i> </i>
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<br />
She is someone who dives into life headfirst, only glancing back every so often to make sure I'm watching...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNpQ10mBo_HNb4o332-CsgXmxw_KKd2HwfcSWothNlcrlQMk-s5MLYwDGk0e0seFEaIG1KYQXJszGHlrfX1_f-Q2e8wo-_GfX3ZgaA3RxOYWP3nz3k0AvdrZK_sztgUnbjDQx6TOKGY_E/s1600/20110607-IMG_0250.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNpQ10mBo_HNb4o332-CsgXmxw_KKd2HwfcSWothNlcrlQMk-s5MLYwDGk0e0seFEaIG1KYQXJszGHlrfX1_f-Q2e8wo-_GfX3ZgaA3RxOYWP3nz3k0AvdrZK_sztgUnbjDQx6TOKGY_E/s640/20110607-IMG_0250.jpg" width="490" /></a></div>
<br />
...which I always am.<br />
<br />
But as I'm watching her jump farther, climb higher, and smile bigger than I ever imagined possible, I'm watching something else too.<br />
<br />
I'm watching her grow up, right before my very eyes. I'm watching her dream her own dreams, and conjure up her own infinite possibilities. Slowly, I'm beginning to realize that a lot of those can't include me.<br />
<br />
And it's just hard.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHf9I4H0fnVyRrDsKL2iusTzFeTfziDO5Am5styXzBsTdFt6qaXLbsiMZ7eElaEqGZc9UJWWvIstAxXZYgyM9VDFSOFFOuHap2GX5-sxQ4oSnnvMSn_jOOKfAgU4Wagt9yqzIO9hzKglE/s1600/20110607-IMG_0265.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHf9I4H0fnVyRrDsKL2iusTzFeTfziDO5Am5styXzBsTdFt6qaXLbsiMZ7eElaEqGZc9UJWWvIstAxXZYgyM9VDFSOFFOuHap2GX5-sxQ4oSnnvMSn_jOOKfAgU4Wagt9yqzIO9hzKglE/s640/20110607-IMG_0265.jpg" width="498" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The Dreamer.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
And so I stand still, save for the snapping of my shutter, barely able
to breathe when I think about that tiny hand in mine, how fragile it felt
and how all I want to do is hold onto it forever, never letting it go... <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiygS6JFRgBKLuIZhLcLUApGuXg7otSd20Ibfz-YQ6VDVhBUAAIyMEkSXiQ2Rt5coWaaVGODP0miqvpwWynNvNAtbzcUePMZ_OHptt5aTF2Prbgd3_q4tG1pVnJOYMvvzoMeWspfYMqfNQ/s1600/20110607-IMG_0273.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiygS6JFRgBKLuIZhLcLUApGuXg7otSd20Ibfz-YQ6VDVhBUAAIyMEkSXiQ2Rt5coWaaVGODP0miqvpwWynNvNAtbzcUePMZ_OHptt5aTF2Prbgd3_q4tG1pVnJOYMvvzoMeWspfYMqfNQ/s640/20110607-IMG_0273.jpg" width="512" /></a> </div>
<br />
...which is impossible, I know. So I stand still in the green grass a little while longer as I watch her go off towards a new adventure, a new beginning, a new story, one that is all her own.<br />
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Off, off...</i></span></b></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>...and away.</i></b></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-79248644833619826672011-08-05T12:11:00.000-07:002011-08-05T12:11:20.788-07:00Running With Balloons.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
She is running towards her granddaughter, who is standing out of the frame, cheering for her at the top of her lungs. <br />
<br />
"YOU CAN DO IT, GAMMIE!" she cries - her voice carrying clearly over the
breeze, happiness in words, a sound I want to etch on my memories and
remember forever.<br />
<br />
Her sister laughs beside her, an overflowing guffaw that burbles out and
over and spills across the yard, touching everyone with a smile that
plays at the corner of mouths.<br />
<br />
"YOU CAN DO IT!" <i>Do what? </i>I wonder, as Gammie runs past with her smile a mile wide. "I'm coming, Inara! I'm coming to you!"<br />
<br />
It's Gammie's retirement party, and all of her dearest friends and
family have gathered to wish her well. Instead of mingling however, she
has decided that celebrating Inara's birthday is a priority. To that
end, she has helped me to construct a hastily-drawn banner (seen in the
background and drawn by yours truly, thanks to infinity for helping to color it in, George family).
She's also ensured that a cake be bought for Inara so that we can all
sing to her. At her retirement party.<br />
<br />
Inara is understandably beside herself with glee. <br />
<br />
I am awed by her generosity of spirit. And by her agility. <br />
<br />
This is a woman who lives life to the fullest. She will miss her many
years of teaching (shout out to all the teachers!), but she is certainly
not looking back today. She has grabbed life by the balloons and she is
running towards everything that the future has to offer. <br />
<br />
Including two grand daughters that can't wait to savor each and every moment that she has to offer.<br />
<br />
"YOU DID IT GAMMIE!" come the shrieks of joy, and now we're all on our feet, cheering.<br />
<br />
You sure did, Gammie. You did it, and then some. For everything you have
given to us, to your community, to your career - we thank you. <br />
<br />
Happy Retirement, Mum. Happy running in the sun with balloons.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-88098772703951087132011-08-03T12:33:00.000-07:002011-08-03T12:33:34.519-07:00Obsessive Compulsive Tiny Book Disorder.Number 1043.5 on the List Of Things Inara Never Did As A Baby is this funny little quirk of Nissa's that we lovingly call "hoarding", but in reality is more like an unholy obsession with inanimate objects.<br />
<br />
Ever since Nissa turned two (in May), she has started to create little collections of things. On most days this isn't a problem, unless the Collection Of The Day involves my measuring spoons, or the left shoe of every single pair in our front closet (aside: is it possible for my two year-old to know her left from her right?). Even then, the issue isn't that she's collecting things, because that's the way she learns about similarities and differences. The problem arises when she becomes attached to her little collections in a way that is not unlike a fiercely protective Daddy standing over his little girl as her first date comes walking up the driveway. Except that the Daddy also has a shotgun, a growling dog that is just itching to take a chunk out of your leg, and a machete. You know, just for good measure.<br /><br />I know that it sounds as if I'm exaggerating, but this our new reality. If I even so much as <i>think</i> about relocating one of the stockpiles of stuff that threatens underfoot - well then, watch out world. Daddy's gonna come a-lookin' for me and he ain't gonna be happy. Except that Daddy in this case is a two year-old with the raging temper of the Tasmanian Devil (on a good day).<br />
<br />Lately, it's books. We have big piles and little piles and all sorts of in-between piles of books strewn all about the house. Nissa can't read yet, so she sorts all of her books according to size. She has "tiny books" and "baby books" (which are just tiny board books) and "big baby books" (regular sized board books), and that's just for starters. On any given day, there are subcategories within each of these main divisions and the best part is that they change. <i>Frequently.</i> Trying to keep it all straight is like trying to figure out the details of the debt ceiling agreement (ba dum tish!). <br /><br />If Nissa was anything like Inara, we could just say, "Oh how cute. Another pile of crap!", pick it up and move along. But this is NOT Inara. This is a screaming banshee-person who has perfected the art of hysterical wailing combined with the rare full body taser-induced body writhe. Meanwhile, Inara is still trying to figure out why her Elmo doll has had broken batteries <i>for four years</i>.<br />
<br />
This is to say, that if Nissa doesn't get what she wants when she wants it - the neighbors will hear about it. And it will sound as if I'm hurting her.<br />
<br />
Nissa will also remember her weird little collections at the oddest times. Halfway through a diaper change she will all of a sudden pull a plank and scream bloody murder: "WHEZ MY BABY BOOKS? I WAN MY BAAAABY BOOOKS!!!!" And of course I've got an arm elbow deep in a pile of poop so NO, I cannot go get your baby books right now, child that I love with every fiber of my being. <br /><br />This is of course immediately followed by Nissa turning into a humane hurricane - with poop added for extra dramatic effect. <br /><br />So now, before we go up to change her diaper I will ask her if she wants her tiny books. Or her baby books. Or her big baby books. Sometimes she will say yes to one, but on most days she will want all three types of books. So then she grabs a pile, I grab a pile, and I throw the other pile up the steps ahead of us. And we're dropping books the whole way up the steps with a turd hanging out down low, but why rush to change a diaper when you've got make sure you have your TINY BOOKS???<br />
<br />
WE MUST NOT FORGET THE TINY BOOKS OR ELSE SUFFER THE WRATH OF NISSA.<br />
<br />
(This is actually my new mantra.)<br />
<br />
You know how before you leave the house you check to make sure you have your wallet and cell phone? Well, we all check to make sure we have Nissa's books (Inara helps us to remember), because we have been burned too many times without them and let me tell you, getting caught with your proverbial pants around your ankles in this case IS NOT AN OPTION (is it ever an option?). Imagine the three of us in a car - Nissa, Inara, and I - arriving at our destination, all of us in tears. Nissa is flipping out for her books, Inara is inconsolable because Nissa is hysterical and "Why can't you HELP HER, MAMA? WHY CAN'T YOU JUST MAKE HER STOP?!?!" And I'm crying because what the hell, I might as well join in the fun from the comfort of the driver's seat. I'm sure that people see this kind of behavior <i>all the time</i>.<br />
<br />
Yousuf and I don't know how to weather the tempest of Nissa's obsessive tendencies, other than to just hold on for dear life and pray that we make it out the other side in one piece. Surely this behavior can't go on forever, right? It's not like she's going to walk halfway across the stage at her college graduation, stop mid-stride and shriek at the top of her lungs, "WHERE ARE MY BIG BABY BOOKS?!?"<br />
<br />
I keep trying to spin this in a positive way, I tell myself that maybe this is a reflection of her tenacity and determination and that it's a good thing...except that when its 5am and your baby wakes up wailing, "TIIIINYYYY BOOOOKS!!!" - well at that point it's hard to spin <i>anything</i> in a positive light.<br /><br />Which is why Nissa now sleeps with her blankie, her lovie, and a pile of books in her crib. <br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This is your brain passed out on Tiny Books.</i></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-14559302422950062482011-08-01T12:18:00.000-07:002011-08-01T12:18:34.547-07:00Ramadan Cake Pops.This is the first year that Inara has <i>noticed</i> the start of Ramadan. In days of yore (as in, last year and previous), we get halfway through Ramadan when Inara finally clues in to what is going on. You can't really fault her for this because her mother is the type of person who will furiously try to push a door open for five minutes straight before realizing that the sign says PULL.<br />
<br />
Also, the best part of Ramadan for a kid is the end - no seriously, it is. If you're not starving yourself all day (and Inara isn't), then nothing is really different and the whole month just becomes one big long lead up to EID. Eid, which is a huge celebration at our house involving grandparents and presents and new clothes and gorging on delicious food. Eid is basically every child's carnival funhouse fantasy on steroids. <br />
<br />
This year has been different - Inara is growing up, and she has a remarkably strong sense of her own identity at the ripe old age of five. This is something I find very curious, because unlike my daughter, I'm thirty...<i>something</i> and still trying to figure out who I am. Inara however (and I suspect Nissa as well, although it's a little too early to call) are little people with HUGE convictions. Once these two have decided on something - there is NO TURNING BACK.<br />
<br />
We've always let everyone in our house decide for themselves about faith and spirituality. We tell our children what the beliefs of Islam are, and then we all decide - together - about how to best go about incorporating those beliefs in our lives. We also talk about how Islam is a lot like other religions and belief systems in the world, and how it's okay to believe any number of things...or nothing at all. We do this consciously because we truly believe that these open discussions are going to be the <i>only</i> way that we can help cultivate acceptance, and love, of our fellow human beings. <br />
<br />
So anyway. Inara is all about Ramadan this year, for reasons that were (until last night) unknown to me. Yesterday evening she asked me with great excitement if it was "Ramadan Eve", to which I replied yes. Prompted by her enthusiasm, I asked her what exactly "Ramadan Eve" meant to her:<br />
<br />
<i>Me</i>: Inara, are you excited about Ramadan Eve?<br />
<br />
<i>Inara</i>: Umm, YEAH Mama! Of course I am!<br />
<br />
<i>Me</i>: I'm excited too! What are you excited about the <i>most</i>?<br />
<br />
<i>Inara</i>: I'm excted that we get to have Ramadan tomorrow for ONE WHOLE MONTH.<br />
<br />
<i>Me</i>: It's true! And what do you like the most about having Ramadan for one whole month?<br />
<br />
<i>Inara</i>: Come ON, Mama. You know. <i>gigglegigglegiggle.</i><br />
<br />
<i>Me</i>: (I actually have no idea what she is talking about at this point) Oh sure <i>I</i> know. But I just want to make sure that we know the same thing. Does that make sense?<br />
<br />
<i>Inara</i>: Yeah, I guess. I'll tell you what I am the most excited about and then you can say, ME TOO!<br />
<br />
<i>Me</i>: Or not. I could maybe not say that, right? It kind of depends on what you're so excited about.<br />
<br />
<i>Inara (wailing)</i>: But you HAVE TO SAY ME TOO! Otherwise I can't get excited about Ramadan!<br />
<br />
<i>Me</i>: Well we can't have that now, can we?<br />
<br />
<i>Inara</i>: No. We CAN'T. So don't say it, okay mama?<br />
<br />
<i>Me</i>: Why don't you just TELL ME what you're so excited about?<br />
<br />
<i>Inara</i>: Okay. I'm going to tell you now. I'm excited that Ramadan is a HUGE celebration. It <i>is</i> a celebration, right mama?<br />
<br />
<i>Me</i>: Well...it can be, I guess. It can be a celebration for us if that's what we want it to be.<br />
<br />
<i>Inara</i>: THAT IS WHAT I WANT IT TO BE.<br />
<br />
<i>Me</i>: Inara, can you tell me what we're going to <i>do</i> for this Ramadan celebration?<br />
<br />
<i>Inara</i>: Well of course the best part of the Ramadan celebration is the Ramadan food that we get to eat.<br />
<br />
<i>Me</i>: Inara. You know that part of Ramadan is fasting all day, right? That's like the opposite of food.<br />
<br />
<i>Inara</i>: CELEBRATION! We're talking about a celebration!<br />
<br />
<i>Me</i>: Right, a celebration. Go on, then.<br />
<br />
<i>Inara</i>: So I think that we should make our own Ramadan celebration foods. Like Ramadan waffles, and Ramadan pancakes and Ramadan cake pops (cake pops?!?) for ONE WHOLE MONTH!<br /><br /><i>Me</i>: Cake pops? I don't even know how to <i>make</i> a cake pop, Inara.<br /><br /><i>Inara (very seriously</i>): Well then you should really find out, Mama. Because cake pops are like a part of Ramadan. You can't have Ramadan without them, okay?<br />
<br />
********<br />
<br />
Ramadan cake pops, people. <i>CAKE POPS</i>. Not the fasting, not the sacrifice, not the empathy for others who are less fortunate than us. Just...cake pops. <br /><br />I can just imagine how it went down, too. All this time that we've been spending together, reading stories about Ramadan and discussing what it means to us...all the time I've spent talking to her about the things that matter, Inara has been thinking CAKE POPS CAKE POPS CAKE POPS.<br /><br />
We are a family that apparently believes in cake pops. <br /><br />Meh. I guess things could be worse. <br />
<br />
Ramadan Mubarak, friends! May your month be filled with love, peace and many cake pops.<br /><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Guess what she's praying for?</i></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-59307847456046118822011-07-29T12:18:00.000-07:002011-07-29T12:18:26.066-07:00Mischief Managed, Part Two.Here is part two of my review for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part Two (now that's a lot of part twos). You can read part one <a href="http://www.venividiblogi.com/2011/07/mischief-managed-part-one.html">here</a>. Or you can not read them at all and come back to this here blog next week, when I shall regale you with tales containing much less obsessive geekery. Enjoy!<br /><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Me in 2005, trying to magic a light fixture as I show off my fancy threads. Basically I was just as nerdy then as I am now - it's good to know that some things never change, right?</i></div>
<br />
- Speaking of Gred and Forge - they are hardly in
this movie. They've been so great in the past films, I would have loved
to see more of them. I do love their dialogue with each other right
before the baddies come storming in. It's so casually typical, yet
poignant especially knowing what is going to...oh, crud. Need more
tissues. The teenagers are totally weirded out by my random outbursts of
emotion. <br />
<br />
- I love the little bits of humor (Neville
egging on the baddies on the bridge), it breaks up the tension so
nicely. Plus, I'll gladly take more Neville screen time any day (when
did I start channeling my inner tween?). I have a feeling Neville is
going to BRING IT very, very soon. Go, Neville!<br />
<br />
-
Hermione destroying the Horcrux + getting drenched with her Wheezy =
MAKE OUT TIME. Now THAT'S a kiss! (Aside: Did anyone else feel as if the
Harry/Ginny snog was rushed? I know they were preparing for battle, but
STILL. I needed more passion!)<br />
<br />
- Neville running
towards Hogwarts as the bridge crumbles behind him has me on the edge of
my seat. He has so come
into his own in this movie, such a fine action hero is he! Actually, I
feel like
all the characters have grown into their roles so well in this final
movie. They each wear their characters so naturally now, and have made
such an impression on us. They will all be very, very hard to forget.
I'm feeling nostalgic and the movie isn't even over. Stop looking at me
like I'm crazy, teenagers - one day you'll get old and weepy too.<br />
<br />
- oooh...good close-up of Voldie's wand breaking. Not working out so well for you is it, Mr. V? Hah!<br />
<br />
-
Even if it didn't happen in the book, I so adore Neville's declaration
of love for Luna. It's sweet and said with just the right amount of
earnest intent, not to mention truth "I should tell her, (because) we'll
all be dead by dawn". (Well, it's not true for Neville and Luna, but it will be for another well-loved couple...waaah!)<br />
<br />
- What on Godric's Green Earth is that fire monster thing that is
chasing the trio in the Room of Requirement? Is it a snake? Is it a
bear? Is it a dragon? It's CRAZY! Fly, friends! Fly!!!! (I just got what it was. Fiendfyre. 10, 000 Bonus Geek Points for ME.)<br />
<br />
-
It's great that they kept Draco true to his character, not even a
sideways glance to Harry for saving his skinny little butt back there.
Well done being a jerkface, Malfoy. Well done.<br />
<br />
- I
think Hermione just figured out that Nagini isn't the last Horcrux! But
will she say anything?? I forget if she knew in the book or if she was
told? Who cares! Let's keep watching!<br />
<br />
- The battle,
although secondary to Harry's personal journey, is shown as no less important to
the overall story. You really get a sense of it here as the the trio are
running through the courtyard with the battle raging on around them
(Lavender Brown died? I never knew that!) - and you're still very much interested in what happens to all the other characters. Well, at least I am. I wonder if the casual movie-goer will care as much.<br />
<br />
- PATRONUS POWER! Go Aberforth! What fast pacing for this film, the action doesn't let up - ever!<br />
<br />
- Rickman vs. Fiennes - the final standoff. Now this is a potent acting
combination. And Fiennes makes a powerful screen villain, does he not?
Evil McEvilson, in spite of his noselessness. <br />
<br />
- Oh my goodness. The not seeing of Nagini's attack on Snape is even
more gruesome than it would have been if we had seen it. Just the sounds
and bloody shadows seen through the clouded glass are enough to send me
over the edge. It's horribly dramatic when your brain has to fill in
those grisly details.<br />
<br />
- "You have your mother's eyes." The last thing Snape saw, and the last
thing he said - it's just as powerful here as it was in the books
(although differently worded, it's no less emotional). Do I hear
sniffles coming from somewhere around me?<br />
<br />
- Harry stumbles back into Hogwarts, it's as if he's only peripherally
noting the dead/wounded. It's more obvious that he feels like he's
responsible for it all, setting him up to willingly give up his own
life...<br />
<br />
- FRED. I'm just...devastated. They didn't show how he died. Although
Ron's reaction to his death is heartbreaking, we see it through Harry's
eyes and it seems more - detached, somehow? It's definitely not as
gut-wrenching as I thought it would be. This could be a good thing. I
wish Fred and George had more of a presence in this film - their one
line didn't set them up for any sort of real connection with the
audience when Fred died. <br />
<br />
- Lupin, Tonks. Holding hands. This is hard to see, even if we knew it
was coming. I wonder if people watching this movie without reading the
books will feel this strongly about beloved (but not main) characters
dying. My guess is that they won't quite realize the indelible
impression they have made on us...and that's too bad. <br />
<br />
- Whoooooa. Snape's pensieve memories are hauntingly beautiful. His childhood begins
as if in a dream, it is gorgeous and eerie all at once - and saturated
with such color. Oh, how he loved her. I am blown away by the visuals in
this film. <br />
<br />
- I can NOT handle seeing Lily die. When she is singing to Harry as he
sits in the crib...I am losing it. More than I ever did while reading
the books. I read this book before I had children. Now I am experiencing
this on a whole other level, and it's too much. And goodness, the
flashbacks to the earlier movies are so beautifully done.<br />
<br />
- I can't figure out the Snape/Dumbledore relationship. It feels to me
(although remember, we are seeing this through Snape's memories), that
Dumbledore took advantage of Snape's love for Lily. It feels like
Dumbledore pushed Snape. A LOT. He pushed him into everything, and I
don't know that he ever really understood the depths of Snape's capacity
to love. And again, totally entranced by the acting here, everyone is
in such fine form - it's mesmerizing. <br />
<br />
- Snape died never knowing if he had succeeded in keeping Lily's son
safe. He died feeling as though Dumbledore was raising Harry "like a pig
for slaughter" (and now Harry knows that he is a Horcrux), and I only
wish that Dumbledore told him his grand plan - although I understand
why he didn't. It adds to Snape's tragic story, layer upon layer of
sadness. <br />
<br />
- I've stifled a few sniffles up until this point, but this - this
moment when Snape discovers Lily is dead (and backstory: how HE played a
part in her death) this is when my tears have begun to flow freely. I
would hazard a guess at this moment being the best most powerful moment
of the series. <br />
<br />
- I want to hug Alan Rickman as he holds Lily's lifeless body - while so
obviously ignoring the crying baby. This speaks more than a thousand
words. It was all about his love for her, until his very last breath.
"You've got your mother's eyes." I NEED MORE TISSUES.<br />
<br />
- This part here, where he tells Hermione and Ron that he's off to die -
this seems odd. It's a deviation from the book, which is fine - but Ron
looks so...constipated maybe? What a bizzare reaction to "I'm the last
Horcrux, I have to die now, it's been nice knowing you." He could have
been all, "thanks for the memories, mate." but there wasn't even a pat
on the back. Just indigestion. Odd. It breaks my heart that Hermione
wants to go with Harry. It did seem as if they all knew what had to be
done, even without Harry telling them...it's a big moment for the trio
and everything they have been through (apart from the tummy issues).<br />
<br />
- Will casual observers get that the Resurrection Stone is in the
Snitch? Will they care that Harry isn't wearing the invisibility cloak?
Should I tell them? Am I insane? YES. They really downplayed the Deathly
Hallows in both Parts 1 and 2, didn't they?<br />
<br />
- I love that all the lines from the book have been
faithfully adapted in the forest scene. It's beautifully done, and if I
wasn't already an emotional wreck from Snape's memories I might have
cried a bit more here. But this scene was expected - Snape holding dead
Lily blew me away and broke my heart.<br />
<br />
- Harry's dead (ish). The scene was everything it should have been. I
have to admit that when I read the book I totally looked up images of
flaying and immediately hurled. I've been curious to see if seeing
flayed babymort on screen would make me feel the same way. It did. <br />
<br />
- Kings Cross scene: This scene way more profound for me than the forest
scene, I don't know why. I wish there was more of Dumbledore’s
backstory with his family and
Grindelwald but it's understandable that it was cut. This line in
particular by Dumbledore has me reeling with emotion: "Words are, in my
not so humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic, capable
of both inflicting injury and remedying it."What a nod to the world
Rowling has created for all of us with her words. <br />
<br />
- Very nice touch with Narcissa, as Harry comes back, it speaks volumes about love overcoming fear, etc. <br />
<br />
- Now that Harry's dead, Voldie's become completely unhinged. He's
prancing around Hogwarts, strutting his stuff like a proud (beakless)
rooster, and WHOA. He's HUGGING Draco. AWKWARD. Join the Dark Side,
friends! We have cookies! And hugs! <br />
<br />
- His laugh is making me laugh. You've gone soft, Voldie!<br />
<br />
- Neville's speech is making me cry again. Damn you, Matthew Lewis and your stirring displays of emotion! <br />
<br />
- Things are moving super fast again: Harry's alive! Sweet Jellybeans! I
love that they kept Molly Weasley bitching Bellatrix out, even if it
seems totally random. Harry's going after Voldie, chasing him around the
castle, and now flinging both of them off the cliff - what did he think
that would accomplish, exactly, sans magic even? MIGHTY MORPHIN'
HARRY/VOLDIE FACE! That was the weirdest thing ever.<br />
<br />
- Neville gets his golden Horcrux moment. In slow-mo even. That did not
disappoint. I think Neville deserves his own spin-off series - but only
if Matthew Lewis stars in the movies. <br />
<br />
- Elder Wand Power! That'll show you, Voldemort! The final battle is,
meh - probably because we all know what is going to happen. And it did!
Ew, gross. Voldie flaking away in the throes of death looks like a very
bad case of dandruff. It's not visually very pleasing at all. But ding
dong, LV is dead! Let us rejoice with some tea and crumpets! How very
British.<br />
<br />
- Harry broke the Elder Wand? Without using it to fix his own wand
first? Small but IMPORTANT detail, script writers. Okay, and this whole
trio on the bridge thing is quite funny. The panning out in particular,
while they stare off at...what, exactly? <br />
<br />
- The epilogue is partly poignant, and partly hilarious. Firstly, there
is NO WAY they look that good nineteen years later. I know what nineteen
years does to a body, and Ginny needs a mummy tummy. Putting her in a
dowdy skirt ain't gonna cut it. Ron, on the other hand, looks like he's
wearing a padded tummy - if not, then I just insulted Rupert Grint's
abs. Sorry, mate. My abs feel your abs' pain. The HP Next Generation
kids are quite adorable, and even though Harry looks like a very
unconvincing thirty something year old, his scene with Albus Severus is
sweet. <br />
<br />
- And the very last shot of the trio looking at the train pulling out of
the station, waving goodbye - to their children, to their past, to the
books, to us...that is well done, indeed. <br />
<br />
- Did they show Harry's scar at the end? I forgot to look!<br />
<br />
********** <br />
<br />
And that's the review, friends. If you are reading this, then thank you
for sticking with it until the end. My overall impression was that this
was a spectacular send-off to the Harry Potter movie series, it included
so much of what made us fall in love with this story in the first
place. There were laughs, there was darkness, constant action, and above
all there was <i>magic</i>. Yes, the movie moved at a blindingly fast
pace, but that was to be expected, as this was more of an action film
than anything else. Still, it was incredibly faithful to the original
story, to the overall good-vs-evil plot, and it was so, <i>so</i> well acted. <br />
<br />
Now that I've had a few days (and weeks) think about it, I'm even more
convinced that this last film will remain as the best of the series. It
was the finest kind of film adaptation - even now people are talking
about how the final book was brought to life on screen. I couldn't help
but notice that in the theater, the people who were crying the hardest
(and it didn't matter what gender they were) were the ones who read
these books as children themselves. I was quite a bit older when I began
the series (and it's telling that I cried the most when Lily died to protect baby Harry) but for those
who grew up with these characters, I am sure that saying good bye means
much more than simply walking out of a darkened theater. For them, it
means an official end to a childhood, and to all the magic and wonder
that Harry Potter has brought to all of our lives.<br />
<br />
And honestly? Watching this movie made me giddy with anticipation...because I can not <i>wait </i>to share the magic and wonder of this incredible story with my own kids someday very, very soon.<br /><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Inara and I, in 2005 - the day Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince was released. I tried to get her interested in it, but all she wanted to do was eat the pages. Perhaps I misjudged the appropriate age to get her started on HP. By a decade.</i></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-44676073501940463992011-07-22T08:16:00.000-07:002011-07-22T08:17:19.520-07:00Mischief Managed, Part One.It's been a challenge for me to write up this review for the last Harry Potter movie. It was the shortest movie of the eight, and yet somehow, I have more notes about this film than I ever imagined possible. I have no idea why I have so much to say about the topic of Harry Potter, and I have no excuse other than basking in the full realization that I am a HUGE nerd. I'm (surprisingly) okay with it, too.<br />
<br />
What I have loved so much about the book series is that it's a damn good story - and you know that I am a sucker for a good story. As I sat watching and absorbing this last film, I realized that finally, <i>finally</i> those emotions I had experienced when I first read the books had been translated to film. I don't know if it's because this is the last Harry Potter hurrah, but I was transfixed for the duration of the movie. With this film, the splendor and magic and yes, <i>the mischief </i>of the Harry Potter universe has been more than well managed. The hardest part truly, is saying goodbye. <br />
<br />
Here then are my notes, in their entirety, for the review of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part Two. For the sake of brevity (ha ha ha HA), I'm splitting this post up into two parts - I did tell you that I had a lot to say, didn't I? I apologize to those of you who are not Harry Potter fans, this two-post deviation of extreme geekiness is going to hurt a little, but I promise you that all will be well after I get it out of my system.<br />
<br />
For all the rest - thanks for bearing with me. I know I promised you this days ago...I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long. I wish I had a great excuse, but the truth is that I'm so enjoying these summer days with both Yousuf and Inara home for the holidays. My blog productivity is at an all-time record low, and you sweet readers are so patient to put up with me. Enjoy part one, and please do let me know what you thought of the film below in the comments...I always look forward to reading your words!<br />
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Inara helped me get ready for my movie outing, supplying me with all the necessary essentials: A watch (to know when it was time to come home), tissues (which she tried to wipe my face with while they were in the packaging, hence the pirate-eye face), a notebook and pen (to do important writing), and some "light reading" (to read before the movie started). </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Yousuf scoffed while taking this photo and commented on my dueling obsessions. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>What can I say? I told you that I was a sucker for a good story...everyone knows it!</i></div>
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
- I've got my pretzels, I've got my milkshake, and now I've got a very big-headed person sitting right in front of me. What I don't got is stadium seating - maybe I should have splurged on those 3D seats after all...<br />
<br />
- Betty White. Betty White? Why is everyone around me talking about Betty White? Did something happen to her?<br />
<br />
- Yay! I've got teenagers sitting on either side of me! Now when people turn around to see who was wolf-whistling, I can just point at THEM.<br />
<br />
- I swear that a seven year-old just walked in to the theatre with her mother. Isn't this a bit dark for seven? Maybe seven is more mature than I remember (or maybe more mature than I was)?<br />
<br />
- Fie On You, Big Head! I need a booster seat.<br />
<br />
- Wow. They didn't waste any intro time, just jump right on into it, why don't you? No suspenseful baritone voice saying, "Previously, on Harry Potter?" Where's my recap? I'm old and feeble and need recaps.<br />
<br />
- Ah yes, the Elder Wand, Voldie, the crypt. It's all coming back to me...<br />
<br />
- Okay, this movie is DARK. Literally. I can hardly see my notebook! Wait. Is this supposed to be in black and white? Where's the color? Ah, I see. It's meant to be drab and colorless and depressing...eeenteresting.<br />
<br />
- ooooh...Snape towering in the window. His expression is so...what? Anguished. Perfection by Allan Rickman - in the very first scene.<br />
<br />
- Dobby! Waaaah! Is it too early to break out my tissues? Can I do it quietly? OH NO I CAN'T. People are turning around. I'm pointing at the teenagers.<br />
<br />
- Exactly how old is Willow/Griphook/Flitwick now? Does the man never age? He's positively sprightly!<br />
<br />
- I never understood this part about wand allegiances. Are there actually two wands that Harry is in control over? I know that the Elder Wand considered Harry it's master, but did Draco's wand do the same as well? Was Harry the Big Cahuna of Wandville, with two wands under his control? Why am I geeking out like this right now in the middle of the movie??<br />
<br />
- I really disliked Helena Bonham Carter as Bellatrix, she was just too over the top, too many hysterics. But HBC as Hermione as Bellatrix is <i>fantastic</i>. She has every Hermione-ism down pat, even down to the nervous hair petting. <br />
<br />
- ooooh, love the goatee, Won-Won. It suits you. Very Old Spice manly. Here come the wolf-whistles...not from me OF COURSE. Heh, heh, heh.<br />
<br />
- The decent into Gringotts reminded me of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (which I saw when I was six months old...just in case you're wondering if I'm ancient). It made me want to hurl then AND now. So glad this isn't in 3D. Old people get nauseous, you know.<br />
<br />
- HERMIONE HAS CLEAVAGE. Wowza. They totally zoomed in on it too. I guess they're making a case for her being all grown up...as if we needed the reminder. <br />
<br />
- Yuck. Fried Goblin who didn't even know he was facing a dragon. I feel sorry for the little dude. And also strange that Ron just passed it off as a joke, and that Harry was okay with it. Totally against their character.<br />
<br />
- LOVE THIS. Harry to Hermione as they plan their escape from Gringott's: "Hermione, when have any of our plans ever actually worked? We plan, we get there, all hell breaks loose." That's like the past six books in a nutshell. And yes, only a true HP nerd would think that. Also, Hermione is totally Bad Ass on that dragon.<br />
<br />
- I love how they are drenched to the bone after escaping, stripping down their skivvies, and yet still discussing serious matters. They could be discussing the perfect tuna salad recipe for all I care because all I see is nekkid boy times 2. And all I hear are wert whirls (not from me OF COURSE). <br />
<br />
- Interesting about Voldemort being able to feel the destruction of Horcruxes. I like it. Voldie is having <i>such</i> a bad day, and he is stress-relieving through mass killing. That is SO unhealthy, Mr. V. Awww, and you went and killed Willow too. Have I ever mentioned how weird it is to see Ralph Fiennes without a nose? He has such a prolific schnozz too...it's sad that he can't use it to his full disposal in these films. Because, you know, it would be handy to be able to smell...stuff. I've heard it really adds to character presence.<br />
<br />
- Man, they go from scene to scene to scene SO FAST. Or perhaps I am missing something when I start ruminating about noses. Snap to it, George! Pay Attention!<br />
<br />
- Erm, how did they get to Hogsmeade? Did I miss something? No using the invisibility cloak? Have they even mentioned the cloak yet? DEATHLY HALLOWS, PEOPLE. It's the name of the movie...you have to at least talk about them!<br />
<br />
- Aberforth is fantastic. They did a wonderful job of making him resemble Dumbledore, and they way he speaks is so reminiscent of D. as well. Love.<br />
<br />
- Oh hello, Arianna. So nice to see you here - why do we know nothing else about you, or about Dumbledore's backstory? Isn't all of that somewhat pertinent? I wonder if a non HP-obsessed person would care...<br />
<br />
- HELLO, NEVILLE. My, my how we've grown. Talk about screen presence, I swear that Matthew Lewis is going to be the next Clive Owen. Just you wait and see. They even SOUND the same. And they give the same sultry face too, it's uncanny:<br />
<br />
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>A Clive for every generation! What could be better?</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
- Ah, Dumbledore's Army - that group of rag tag misfits who will change the world. How I love them! I also dig the humor added to the movie, even in times of crisis ("Not sure what the item is. Not sure where to find it.", and I can never get enough of Cho's accent. It's rad.<br />
<br />
- Ginny! Of course she doesn't care about you, Ronald. Great line, though ("Six months she hasn't seen me and it's like I'm Frankie First Year"). I wonder if this will be the funniest scene in the movie?<br />
<br />
- Okay, so the students marching in formation are very disturbing. <br />
<br />
- I love to hate Snape (the character). In the movie however, I am alllll over Allan Rickman. His drawn out enunciation and then whispered threats have me in goosebumps. Oh, and Maggie Smith is no less formidable. She hasn't been in the past few movies as often as I like, but she is KILLING it here. <br />
<br />
- Wand fight! Superb acting, love the way McGonagall stepped in front of Harry. Take that you not-so-traitorous traitor! Ooooh...notice how Snape is only using defensive spells? Am I the only one who notices these things? Probably. But who cares! Yeah, yeah, yeah - go go go!<br />
<br />
- The acting here is simply outstanding. I can't get enough. Everyone has totally stepped it up, even Daniel Radcliffe (shocking, I know. But I always thought he was the most awkward of the trio). I'm no "real" critic, but I'd say his underacting is far more riveting to watch this time around. <br />
<br />
- Dude, this is scary. It's half horror movie, half adventure. Eeeeek! I want my hubby! (Note: I have no idea what this is referring to!)<br />
<br />
- McGonagall kicked Slytherin house out?!? What the? That's not right. You're supposed to give them a chance to pick sides! Ah, well. In the words of one Mr. Ronald Weasley: "That's unfortunate." Hah!<br />
<br />
- The statues animating are FANTASTIC. And I'm caught by how the teachers look so sad to have to make Hogwarts defend itself. Although seeing McGonagall lead the army of stone statues is really a treat.<br />
<br />
- "I've always wanted to use that spell." So well delivered by Dame Maggie, possibly the best line in the movie. McGonagall was one of my favorite characters in the books, that line is PRECISELY the reason why. She kicks some major baddie backside!<br />
<br />
- The Battle of Hogwarts aerial scenes, the preparation and the protection spells extending ghost-like over the grounds...this is so much better than I envisioned it in my head when I read the book. It's captivating and haunting at the same time. So much darkness, so much hope.<br />
<br />
- Okay, so I am going to take this opportunity to gush over Luna. She is so wonderful, and supportive of Harry, yet she always forces him to see reason. Why didn't they hook up? They totally should have.<br />
<br />
- Here come the baddies, with Voldie and Bellatrix leading the charge. And there is Helena back to her freaky/funny ways. Why is she loping around like that? She looks like a stunned gorilla. Those big overhead views of the Death Eaters coming, that's quite chilling.<br />
<br />
- Scary ghost lady! Did they change the story with her a bit? No matter, the point about the diadem is still made, and she is hella freaky when she yells at Harry! Yikes!<br />
<br />
- Oh man, I cannot see Remus knowing what's going to happen to him. Or Fred. Crud, now I need tissues. I can tell that the teenagers around me are getting weirded out by my random outbursts of emotion. Deal with it, kids. I'm old. I get emotional.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Here ends Part One.</i></b><i> We're out of town for the weekend, so Part Two of the review will follow upon our return...sometime next week. Sorry to be so vague, it's just that our summer plans keep taking us on new and exciting adventures. I <b>will</b> return however, with Part Two to share with you. In the meantime, let me know what you thought about the movie. Let's revel in our geekery together!</i></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-79897229536376592242011-07-18T07:20:00.000-07:002011-07-18T07:54:53.934-07:00Heart For Art.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Heart For Art is the name of a movement started by my friend and fellow blogger, <a href="http://stayathomebabe.com/">Lerner</a>. It began when she read <a href="http://www.edenriley.com/2011/07/rich-white-western-woman-walks-into.html">this post</a> by our fellow ANTM contributor Eden, and instead of reading those powerful words and then going on with life, Lerner decided to do something absolutely shocking.<br />
<br />
She decided to <i>do something about it</i>. <br />
<br />
There has been much talk lately about <a href="http://dooce.com/2011/06/27/back-bangladesh-one-many">bloggers who travel to developing nations and then share their first-hand impressions with their readership</a>. "<a href="http://www.mom-101.com/2011/06/lets_attack_bloggers_who.html">Poverty-tourism</a>", the naysayers are calling it - a shameful, cynical, demeaning term if I've ever heard one. Critics say that these experiences are more about the bloggers, these larger-than-life conjurers of words, than the people who are actually suffering. And their words, they say, <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2011/jun/29/blogging-poverty-tourism-developing-countries?CMP=twt_gu">don't actually mean anything</a>. Words don't inspire action.<br />
<br />
Oh, how wrong those jaded souls are. <br />
<br />
When Lerner emailed me saying just how much Eden's post had affected her, and that it had inspired her to do something for the girls living in a group home in Bali - to show them that there are people cheering them on in their journey to become strong young women, I immediately replied. I sent her some virtual fist-pumps and then asked her one very simple thing: <i>Tell me how I can help</i>. <br />
<br />
Because that is MY reality as a blogger. My reality is grounded in the belief that words are more powerful than we have the capability to imagine. The words that flow from the first-hand experiences of bloggers <b>are</b> meaningful. They carry weight, and they have the power to spur action. Our words have the power to change the world, if even on the minutest of scales.<br />
<br />
This is why I blog. This is why I continually beg you to take part in my crazy altruistic giveaways. This is why I am asking you to join Heart For Art. <br />
<br />
The concept behind Heart For Art is incredibly simple. You can read about the details in <a href="http://stayathomebabe.com/2011/07/heart-for-art-the-world-isnt-big-or-bad/">today's post</a> at Lerner's blog, but basically it's that bloggers around the world are joining forces today to ask their readers to make art and send it to the young girls in Bali. In return, the girls will send their artwork back to us. That's it.<br />
<br />
Today, break out your art supplies with your children, grandchildren, or even on your own and draw from your heart. Draw about your world, your life, your experiences - anything that inspires you, and then tuck that drawing into an envelope and send it to one of the addresses below. It will be forwarded to the young girls in Bali, and believe me, your images will mean more to them than letters (which they won't be able to read, given that English isn't their native language). Your first-hand impressions will show the girls that the world is a great big place that is filled with wonder and possibility. Art will enable us to connect on an emotional level; through art we can let them know that we care, that they are definitely not alone.<br />
<br />
This isn't just an exercise in appeasing our Western guilt. This, my friends, is us making a difference.<br />
<br />
This is the real deal. <br />
<br />
Heart For Art. Please be a part of it with me, and please use it as a springboard to talk about the reality of the world with your loved ones. I've found that these simple conversations are powerful in and of themselves, because they lay the foundation for a future of selflessness, and of empathy. Even the youngest children can grasp these concepts when they see us modeling them for them in our everyday lives. <br />
<br />
I sat down with Inara yesterday afternoon and talked with her, openly. We found Bali on a map, and talked about how far away it was from us, what it must be like to live there. I told her that there were children her age living there that didn't have their own parents to take care of them, but that it didn't mean that <i>nobody</i> cared about them. Without prompting, she said that she cared about them too. I asked her if she wanted to help me draw a picture for the girls, to show them what her part of the world was like. We talked about drawing the things that were important to us in the hopes that it would tell the girls that they were important to us, even if we were far apart.<br />
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She proudly drew this to share with her "friends from Bali", and I am so incredibly touched by it. I hope the girls will be, too. I hope they will see and feel the love we're sending their way.<br />
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For more information on Heart For Art, Foundation 18 (the name of the group home in Bali), and to find out about more ways you can help, please read <a href="http://stayathomebabe.com/2011/07/heart-for-art-the-world-isnt-big-or-bad/">today's post</a> at Lerner's blog, Stay At Home Babe.<br />
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To send your Heart For Art to Bali, just mail your piece(s) to either one of these two addresses. They are both overseas, so it will be more expensive than regular mail, but it's still relatively inexpensive if you're just sending paper envelopes.<br />
<br />
Lerner Farrington<br />
Attn: Heart For Art<br />
18 Suffolk Rd<br />
Lincoln, LN1 2UG<br />
UK<br />
<br />
Cate Bolt<br />
Attn: Heart For Art<br />
PO Box 239<br />
Glass House Mountains, Qld 4518<br />
Australia<br />
<br />
And if you have any other questions at all, feel free to email <b>HeartForArt18 at gmail dot com</b>.<br />
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Thanks so much, friends.<br />
<i>xoxoxmahreen</i><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-55849166431131154682011-07-15T12:33:00.000-07:002011-07-15T13:13:47.757-07:00Banks.We've been back from our trip to Toronto for a couple of days, and I am just beginning to get back into the groove of things. Ten days away from home equals at least two days of catch up in terms of sleep, unpacking, and my all-time favorite (not) LAUNDRY. Blech. I swear we have at least eighteen loads of it to do before we're back on track. Yay for me.<br />
<br />
You know the only thing worse than doing eighteen loads of laundry? It's folding eighteen loads of laundry. And so, faced with the prospect of spending the rest of the summer in auto-pilot-robotic-folding mode, I am avoiding it at all costs. Instead, I'm perusing the pictures we took last week (we did manage to break out the big camera on a couple of occasions after all) and wishing I could be transported back in time, making laundry instead of folding it.<br />
<br />
One series of photos that keeps me cracking up is this, of me and my best bud, partner in crime, kind-hearted doppelgänger, Banks (not her real name) aka Konie (not her real name) aka Ok (pronounced awk, also not her real name). Her real name is....practically unpronounceable, much like my own, one of a zillion billion things we have in common such as our love of shoes and salty foods and our ability to produce freakishly adorable children (don't ask us how we do it! It just KEEPS HAPPENING.)<br />
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We can't help but have fun whenever we're together, mostly because we never run out of things to say...most especially when we're trying to take pictures: <br />
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Banks and I have known each other since the ninth grade in high school, when she and I, the only South Asians in our entire town (not true, but it felt that way because there were so few of us) kept getting mistaken for sisters by our teachers. In ninth grade geography, our teacher insisted that Banks take a day off to celebrate Eid with my family. Never mind that she was Hindu. Or that she didn't even have the same last name as me.<br />
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Let's just say...we went with it. Heh heh heh.<br />
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We're older now, all grown up with kids of our own to confuse with one another (it's true - our eldest daughters look remarkably similar...again, no idea why history is repeating itself but we're going with it because it would be really boring of us not to).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51l47GFpCoe_ZthLFxb2lfc7Ar7yAFk9soLgjHqCwRw1mAD0eBHzk4fo3Q9PHsnBo5SkITTyOKLS0DSzSIAap76BNh5imEZMK5FW2Q56auEIChbBtusLwA22n-SF_oPFMuFK86cMVOU4/s1600/20110710-IMG_1392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj51l47GFpCoe_ZthLFxb2lfc7Ar7yAFk9soLgjHqCwRw1mAD0eBHzk4fo3Q9PHsnBo5SkITTyOKLS0DSzSIAap76BNh5imEZMK5FW2Q56auEIChbBtusLwA22n-SF_oPFMuFK86cMVOU4/s640/20110710-IMG_1392.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>The big flower clips were unplanned - but not unexpected - because Banks and I are basically </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>THE SAME PERSON.</i></div>
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And we still can't take a decent picture together to save our lives. Watch as I unhinge my lower jaw to devour her baby. Of course Banks is always poised and proper - I've always been the far more <i>troubling</i> sibling. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDJmJAz3azRPMQxddcv6lsBbdliv499ACjQoxlWdISfbyDswiUNQON3y6tKjwiUd6AJkNgPwCi7fPf7MtrVjqKaI_A28Fa3_X6UwvEyB-dxmHXKDhw-hZv8x-y-AgfVQ_S-mlNZp8B9BU/s1600/20110710-IMG_1326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDJmJAz3azRPMQxddcv6lsBbdliv499ACjQoxlWdISfbyDswiUNQON3y6tKjwiUd6AJkNgPwCi7fPf7MtrVjqKaI_A28Fa3_X6UwvEyB-dxmHXKDhw-hZv8x-y-AgfVQ_S-mlNZp8B9BU/s640/20110710-IMG_1326.jpg" width="406" /></a></div>
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<i>Oh hello there, cute little baby. You look awfully tasty...</i></div>
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<i>Come a little closer, dear - Reen Mashi (not my real name OBVIOUSLY) won't hurt you... </i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>NOM NOM NOM NOM</b></div>
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It wasn't my fault. She just looked so...delectable. And she practically stuck her whole hand into my mouth - I had no choice but to take a little nibble. What's a missing finger between family members anyway?</div>
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Perhaps the best thing about our friendship is that it has aged well. Neither time, nor distance, nor circumstance has diminished our relatioship. If anything it's given us a renewed perspective on all the memories we've made. We've had a tremendous life journey together, filled with adventures and heartbreak, all the stuff that movies-of-the-week are made of...and yet, our friendship has remained simple. It's utterly devoid of pretense, and at the same time it is filled to the brim with constant, unexpected happiness. And surprise. And lots and LOTS of laundry. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbHOBpJfQPWLoqHIccU3f0nxPvXp40fF87ETfyt8F9SwQ5fdAbjkuvimMgcIYgrOfSPDPaFH99DpG47XOXXZwqgNyHTdqMcIXnMAdX6h3IwbRfChaAdpRxT9tSaOT7CxzdMLAYn_h7rc8/s1600/20110710-IMG_1334.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="548" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbHOBpJfQPWLoqHIccU3f0nxPvXp40fF87ETfyt8F9SwQ5fdAbjkuvimMgcIYgrOfSPDPaFH99DpG47XOXXZwqgNyHTdqMcIXnMAdX6h3IwbRfChaAdpRxT9tSaOT7CxzdMLAYn_h7rc8/s640/20110710-IMG_1334.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>We took one last shot together and noticed with fading grins..</i>.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGvfK9RbnMCL-XKwreySn4f63etVzHVKdoxBuKtlblEMKWoCzIWT6qyml_bFavzMPQGkBit8mq8QOS8HxZ9-jF3k4f5uxx0KHTBCw5QfJas7UhiU0NEGtkufg2FR4bC6CL6Qecl-KAAhY/s1600/20110710-IMG_1337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGvfK9RbnMCL-XKwreySn4f63etVzHVKdoxBuKtlblEMKWoCzIWT6qyml_bFavzMPQGkBit8mq8QOS8HxZ9-jF3k4f5uxx0KHTBCw5QfJas7UhiU0NEGtkufg2FR4bC6CL6Qecl-KAAhY/s640/20110710-IMG_1337.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<i>...Inara and Nissa in their beautiful birthday dresses...</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMV7Gt2oKqMLCl4zyfi-qlOIBEq5ZzZiHDrvlK0mn78jPhs8z2dGzc3xFkMExD3UxWyyovtR8TqoEoHUsWclXNZL878ZSQ7jHp0GFSaIkXp_V55WU4IngU-3BFKc-p1oo8WtnTZCvHeAk/s1600/20110710-IMG_1346.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMV7Gt2oKqMLCl4zyfi-qlOIBEq5ZzZiHDrvlK0mn78jPhs8z2dGzc3xFkMExD3UxWyyovtR8TqoEoHUsWclXNZL878ZSQ7jHp0GFSaIkXp_V55WU4IngU-3BFKc-p1oo8WtnTZCvHeAk/s640/20110710-IMG_1346.jpg" width="496" /></a></div>
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<i>...absolutely DRENCHED in mud. </i></div>
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For the love of a good friend, for the familiarity that comes with years of indelible memories entwined, for the ability to accept all that life throws our way, and to carry on supporting one another as I know our children will, together...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkJNbwOYnc0ttHhjGxWWoVMfU6VlDpsf8uAG8uHlJedqtbttQfidTVbVU229Fcam7vCxgJSijmL7GB3IaWBv1PwVwUC_jauRiXlgYOqKDLrLXfz77vS97mTJcjs7Fu4ht2FVVXXTWlm5Q/s1600/20110710-IMG_1344.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkJNbwOYnc0ttHhjGxWWoVMfU6VlDpsf8uAG8uHlJedqtbttQfidTVbVU229Fcam7vCxgJSijmL7GB3IaWBv1PwVwUC_jauRiXlgYOqKDLrLXfz77vS97mTJcjs7Fu4ht2FVVXXTWlm5Q/s640/20110710-IMG_1344.jpg" width="482" /></a></div>
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...for all of this (minus the laundry), </div>
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I remain always and eternally grateful.</div>
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<i>(You'll notice that Banks' daughter remained mud-free. It seems as though my devilish little imps were the ones who inherited the troubling genes - I have NO IDEA where they got it from.) </i></div>
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xoxoxmahreen</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-57659423805377028542011-07-07T12:59:00.000-07:002011-07-07T19:58:08.000-07:00My Mama Made Me Do It.My mom says that I have been shirking my blogging duties of late. Just last night, she said that it wasn't very professional of me to pack up and leave the country without at least an explanation to my legions of loyal readers about my whereabouts, or my return date.<br />
<br />
I told her that a) I do not have legions of fans (to which she replied, "Well. I'M a fan, but I guess that doesn't count, does it?"), and b) I'm not very professional about <i>anything</i> (to which she replied, "You really need to work on that, Mahreen"). <br />
<br />
And you wonder where I get my tactfulness from. <br />
<br />
Basically, this post is the grown-up equivalent of when you get caught doing something bad to someone else by your mom and she makes you own up to it by marching you straight over to that someone else's place with your ear twisted tightly between her index finger and thumb to apologize <i>and mean it or else.</i><br />
<br />
(Aside: I think being back here in my childhood home is messing with my head.)<br />
<br />
So I'm dedicating this post to my mom, who is hovering over me as I type. Luckily, she can't see <i>what</i> I'm typing, or else I'd be a goner.<br />
<br />
As far as she's concerned, I could be typing up a heartfelt apology to all of you.<br />
<br />
Or my magnum opus.<br />
<br />
Or letters to publishers.<br />
<br />
I'm smiling now, so she thinks I'm really getting into this. And I am, but not for the reasons she thinks I am.<br />
<br />
I'm smiling because I'm about to type up the following:<br />
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<i>Poop Booger Snot Fart. </i><br />
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(She thinks I'm working really hard at this.)<br />
<br />
(Aside: Being back in my childhood home is TOTALLY messing with my head.)<br />
<br />
Yesterday, we went to go see my best friend from high school, and halfway through our visit I had a bit of spazz out moment. I was watching our children play together and they acted so much the way we did when we first met, calling out made-up nicknames to one another from across the park, oblivious to the world around them as they filled the air with their carefree laughter. I had an out-of-body moment as I remembered us goofing off in the same way not so very long ago. Weren't we trying to skip out on our Physics class just yesterday? How were we now old enough to be discussing Spanxx and comfortable (yet fashionable!) footwear? I have to say that I pulled a Vizzini from The Princess Bride and spluttered, "IT'S INCONCEIVABLE!" - to which I received many a quizzical stare because this entire line of thinking had occurred inside my own head. <br />
<br />
Did I mention that I turn 33 in exactly four days, and that I have pulled two gray hairs from my head in the past 48 hours? I'm sure that the two are related and I hate it. I don't even know why I pulled those two tiny gray hairs out - I didn't think about it, I just reacted, instinctively. If I continue on at this rate, I'm sure I'll go bald before my 34th birthday. I very much need to get a grip on reality. I'm old.<br />
<br />
Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! I want my Mooooooooooooommmmmmy!<br />
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Being back in Toronto feels like a time warp - a part of me is in complete and utter denial about having grown up and gone away, especially when I'm surrounded by the Museum Of My Childhood. The other part of me feels so very <i>old. </i>Ancient, even. I feel like I'm as dusty and creaky (and gray!) as all the old medals and trophies lining my parents' mantel. I do love seeing my past through the eyes of the future - that is to say, my children. Everything is wonderful and amazing to them. The thought that their parents were ever children themselves, it's...absolutely...INCONCEIVABLE!<br />
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I had plans to take many, many pictures of the girls while we were here, exploring my old haunts and visiting my old friends, but to tell you the truth I haven't even unpacked the camera. Life just seems different up here in Toronto, tucked away in the homes of our loved ones. I can't quite put my finger on it, the best description I can muster is that it feels like I'm living in a bubble. A big, lazy, happy, content bubble.<br />
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We'll be here until the middle of next week and at the end of it all we'll have not much to show for it, other than the memories we will have made. But oh, what memories they will be. Inara turns five the day before me and she and I are having joint b-day celebrations. We've also been a part of a retirement party, a wedding, water park and zoo excursions and so, so, so, much more. Maybe it's because I'm getting older, but for once, I just want to soak it all up. I want to enjoy every little moment of sunshine, squeezing the marrow out of every gloriously manic-inducing, sleep-deprived moment. For once, I want to be here - present for it - instead of trying to capture it.<br />
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At least until my Mama makes me unpack that darn camera, to which I shall say...<i> </i><br />
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<i>Poop Booger Snot Fart. </i><br />
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And then I'll do it anyway, because when you're at Mama's house you'd better do what Mama says.<br />
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How many days until we're back home again?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7295680167486419384.post-57399864392605938722011-06-30T07:55:00.000-07:002011-06-30T07:55:29.139-07:00Killer Weed (and Giveaway Winner!)So apparently all you smarty-pants people who know things about plants were kind enough to inform me yesterday that my beautiful, bee-friendly flowering bush...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0RpCYQEdyVoDhRhtEvxAoQ3H2enxAhJlfY07H7lkf2Pt__1Yi_hKLtuQ42GMueqS-IzsAEdMuR2fDaUsHFxy_0VwkAqWb2Mr-wDBEnQokgiIEzrh9LYdu5ijmJ-fJiWN967X6f7VlpY0/s1600/20110628-IMG_0942.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0RpCYQEdyVoDhRhtEvxAoQ3H2enxAhJlfY07H7lkf2Pt__1Yi_hKLtuQ42GMueqS-IzsAEdMuR2fDaUsHFxy_0VwkAqWb2Mr-wDBEnQokgiIEzrh9LYdu5ijmJ-fJiWN967X6f7VlpY0/s640/20110628-IMG_0942.jpg" width="438" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>...is a killer weed.<br />
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Lovely. And OF COURSE it's a killer weed, because <i>what else</i> would thrive in my garden? I, the one who kills houseplants like it's going out of style, have a deadly weed growing on my front lawn. And I even think it's pretty. I even used it's berries in my winter decorations last year (gasp!).<br />
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And I just learned, via the ever-helpful Professor Google, that those very same berries - if ingested - can cause you to simultaneously be "cleaned out at both ends", or die. Depending on the toxicity of the plant. Talk about a bad day.<br />
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So now of course I'm freaked out. And like any rational human being with access to the internet, I rely on it to provide me with the most accurate information. Here is what I learned about the pretty but parasitic (not to mention incredibly toxic) bittersweet nightshade that is growing along my driveway:<br />
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- <a href="http://www.drugs.com/npp/bittersweet-nightshade.html">Ingesting the berries constitutes a "medical emergency", but there is a recommended dosage for preparing a stem infusion.</a> Me = confused.<br />
- <a href="http://landscaping.about.com/cs/groundcovervines1/a/bittersweet.htm">There are many types of bittersweet.</a> Some are not invasive, some are considered a protected species, some are poisonous, and some will cause you to grow a third eyeball and sprout a tail if you even look in their general direction (joke).<br />
- It's been used to treat herpes (no joke!), dizziness, vertigo, allergies, eczema, jaundice, and asthma, <a href="http://hermionesgarden.blogspot.com/2011/02/solanum-dulcamara-bittersweet.html">among other ailments</a>. But it can't be used to treat the growth of third eyeballs and tails. Sorry. <br />
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I also learned that Professor Google is dangerous, and not akin to the Mad Hatter pulling me down his rabbit hole of weirdness when it comes to investigating things like this. There are some things I would have <a href="http://www.drugsandbooze.com/showthread.php?1584-Anyone-ever-dona-Datura-%28AKA-Deadly-Nightshade%29&p=22336">rather not known</a> and sometimes I just need to back the hell away from the computer and give it a rest. <br />
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So instead, I will impress you with my knowledge of the other, more wholesome plants growing on our tiny spit of property. Be prepared to be shocked and awed by my extensive plant vocabulary:<br />
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Lily. Of the genus <i>Orangus Biggus</i>. Used in ancient rites of olfactory indulgence, and also as a chalice for dewdrop moonshine.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsEus9cx-7WYIly7waxp78oK4nU7t_HN20wmJRv52yq9cAzWLhI2f8B6n1ZmyBed7mrrSu00DPrbvDjwEFRig-AfsCdityGnGWoTXG9IBt5TzVY3Xp1atdC6U5uLqX0bYbzoMug-8r39g/s1600/20110628-IMG_0939.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsEus9cx-7WYIly7waxp78oK4nU7t_HN20wmJRv52yq9cAzWLhI2f8B6n1ZmyBed7mrrSu00DPrbvDjwEFRig-AfsCdityGnGWoTXG9IBt5TzVY3Xp1atdC6U5uLqX0bYbzoMug-8r39g/s640/20110628-IMG_0939.jpg" width="516" /></a></div><br />
Sunflower. Or rather, the start of a sunflower. I <b>know</b> that this is a sunflower because we planted it from a packet of seeds and stuck a Popsicle stick into the ground next to it that says "DO NOT PICK THIS SUNFLOWER UNDER PAIN OF NEVER-ENDING TICKLES. NISSA THAT MEANS YOU." But seeing as how she can't read, it was kind of a pointless exercise. Genus <i>Hugus Largus Gigantus. </i>Used in modern planting to camouflage ugly chain link fences.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU4PUeOdUAlwXcnmfsRi-5yf1LFyJJyQU0tjSWTN_sYTDUtSK_FApwsVIftdzET0e5GzUu3e35lVeMpRBOD-SAm_oGeI3WVWaKNx7cOTRASsjh-eLZykkS7PDVJmTOu20tkbc1SSPZsb0/s1600/20110624-IMG_0772.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU4PUeOdUAlwXcnmfsRi-5yf1LFyJJyQU0tjSWTN_sYTDUtSK_FApwsVIftdzET0e5GzUu3e35lVeMpRBOD-SAm_oGeI3WVWaKNx7cOTRASsjh-eLZykkS7PDVJmTOu20tkbc1SSPZsb0/s640/20110624-IMG_0772.jpg" width="426" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>And any half-competent pretend gardener, such as myself, knows what these are. They're not growing in my garden right now (we just mowed the lawn), but they are waiting to pop out again in a couple of days, lovable little buggers that they are. But they are good for the bees, so we shall just enjoy them just the same. Dandelion, Genus <i>Picturus Freehandus In My Bathroomus</i>:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMiZigcK0_s8QJCkhOQ4xM7qNge2auYxpcwK1NLmYowUmn4YXaZTpcDqAydVRgJ77TgfwQKWxfcYP_5Kubh9yRbuwSpBliUtxfxVZMvTEJQgJoxyJiEw1W7aJIiLlIY7IvvSvH_Xu6b68/s1600/20110624-IMG_0766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMiZigcK0_s8QJCkhOQ4xM7qNge2auYxpcwK1NLmYowUmn4YXaZTpcDqAydVRgJ77TgfwQKWxfcYP_5Kubh9yRbuwSpBliUtxfxVZMvTEJQgJoxyJiEw1W7aJIiLlIY7IvvSvH_Xu6b68/s640/20110624-IMG_0766.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />
Okay so maybe I can't grow flowers, but I can DRAW them...that's something, right?<br />
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And these are poppy pods. Or at least that's what my friend Carla told me there were when she gave me the piece. And usually, I believe her. Except for when she tells me that she's going to meet me at a certain time, because then I know she's always going to be early. IT FREAKS ME OUT, CARLA. I can't handle over-punctuality! I rely on that extra 10 minutes of late-buffer time to put on deodorant and make sure that my dress isn't tucked into my underpants. Sheesh. Poppy Pods, Genus <i>Carlaus Gaveus Meus Thisus Threeus Weeksus Beforeus Sheus Saidus Sheus Wouldus. Weirdous</i>.<br />
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</div>If you've hung on this far - congratulations! And sorry. I know that my brain is such a strange and twisted place. But you know, my nightshade - as deadly as it may be - <i>is</i> helpful. Not only for alleviating the symptoms of an STD (Which is just what <i>everyone</i> wants growing in their yard. A herpes flower! AWESOME.) but also for the wild bees that visit us.<br />
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And you know how I feel about bees.<br />
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(How's that for the world's weirdest segue?) <br />
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I love the bees! And you do too - which I am so excited about. We had many wonderful ideas and entries for the Do Something Good Giveaway...I'm so proud of all of you, and so thankful that you were a part of it. I wish I had goodies to give away to all who entered, but I hope that you'll give yourself mad props for taking the time to think about something important and meaningful. I'm giving you mad props!! And hopefully, it will lead to a continued awareness about the plight of the bees, not only amongst those of you who took the time to enter the giveaway, but amongst all those you come into contact with.<br />
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Bee-cause that's how we roll with the Do-Gooding, peeps! It spreads like a killer weed...hmmm. Maybe that's a bad analogy.<br />
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And so, without further adieu, I give to you the winner of the V2B/Honey Girl Organics Do Something Good Giveaway. By the powers invested in me by random.org, I am so happy to announce that the lovely reader, <b>Leigh</b> is the winner of her choice of THREE all-natural Honey Girl Organics skincare products! Here was her <a href="http://www.venividiblogi.com/2011/06/to-bee-or-not-to-be-do-something-good.html#disqus_thread">winning comment</a>:<br />
<blockquote><i>We don't use any pesticides or herbicides or anything-icides in our yard, and we love our dandelions!</i></blockquote>YES! That's what I'm talking 'bout! And also - dandelions...I <i>so</i> know what those are. Hooray for you and hooray for me!<br />
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Leigh, if you could contact me at <i>mahreen at venividiblogi dot com </i>then I can hook you up with some bee products courtesy of Honey Girl Organics. I can't wait to hear what you choose - I haven't yet tried a product that I didn't like. For reals.<br />
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Thank you to EVERYONE who took the time to enter the Do Something Good Giveaway, I hope that it was as fun for you as it was for me, and I hope that you are all showered with rainbows and unicorn sparkles and good karma for the rest of your days. Thanks for doing something GREAT with me...let's do it again soon!<br />
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And of course, thank you times one hundred billion trillion to Mark Tanney and the Honey Girl Organics family for making this all possible. Bee (har har, I had to do it just once more) sure to visit their <a href="http://honeygirlorganics.com/">website</a> to check out HGO for yourself or as a gift for others. They are a wonderful home-grown company that is doing all the right things for themselves, the environment, and for you. It has been an absolute pleasure to work with you, Honey Girl!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0