A Comfortable Affair

There's something I've been needing to get off my chest for a while now. I hate having things on my conscience, especially something of this magnitude. I mean, something like this affects every area of my life, so it's time to finally come clean, clear the air, etc.

Are you ready for this?

I have a love affair with books.

Shocking, I know. I bet you didn't see that coming at all, especially if you have known me for any length of time. Not that I was a bookworm for most of my childhood, or anything. Not that I was reading 1000-page novels at the age of 12 or anything. Not that I have shelves full of "books-to-read," and even more shelves full of "books-I've-already-read." Nope, you must be thinking of some other girl.

Um, okay, so you're not.

By extension, I also have a love affair with bookstores. I love the dusty, musty used bookstores with overstuffed chairs, every inch covered with stacks and stacks of books. Remember the bookstore that figured so prominently in the opening scenes of The Neverending Story? (You have seen The Neverending Story, haven't you?)

I love the smell of those stores. How the paper on the books is usually yellowed around the edges, or slightly smudged and gray from being enjoyed before. I love how you can find treasures there that no longer exist in a new-book bookstore.

BUT! I still love new-book bookstores. Especially ones that sell legal and addictive beverages laden with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. It is even better if they are also slightly trendy, sell music and movies, have a huge, inviting children's section, and have lots of big overstuffed chairs (with not a single inch covered with books), just begging to be sat in. I could spend hours in these stores, lost in words, sipping tea and frappuccinos, reading about the history of Etruscan mythology (from whence my name is derived), the clothing styles of the 18th century, the reason for the scarlet-coloured A on Hester Prynne's dress, how to knit high-fashion items, this season's hairstyles, the unfolding of history on Dune, the peculiar habits of hobbits, the evolution of jazz music, who the mysterious Nephilim were, what is in the Dead Sea Scrolls, the romance of Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett, how traditional foods are prepared...

Ahem. You get the picture.

Sadly, due to only having one very small bookstore in this town that is neither musty nor trendy, and not an overstuffed chair in sight (not to mention rather ridiculous prices), I now do most of my book shopping online. I sit in my functional office chair, sip my plain-Jane-everyday-tea, and imagine the smell and the sound and the feel of the books and the bookstores that I long to be in.

In all honesty, this has allowed me to spend more money on books, and less money on overpriced, sugar-laden beverages, so I should be thankful. Plus, the book you want is almost always available on-line, and in the store? Not so much. And on-line sales are pretty much the bomb! However, there is just something to being able to scan through a book before you buy it to make sure it is actually the one you want, y'know?

I am feeling a little bookstore deprived: one of the things I most look forward to on my trips to Red Deer is a good solid couple of hours with my Honey, some books and Starbucks. That didn't happen this time, with the way the trip worked out. Oh, there was Starbucks--a hurried run through the drive-through. I even entered a bookstore twice--a hurried run through Chapters to find the bathroom for three little boys (and an unfruitful search for the title I had expressly gone in to find), as well as a hurried run through Scott's Parable to grab a CD for my mother-in-law (with a quick, almost-random grab at a few new albums for myself) as a thank-you for her babysitting services. But no leisurely browsing was to be had anywhere. (At least I was fortunate enough to discover a new favourite band out of all the rushed shopping.)

Fortunately, I saw this coming before I left, and had the foresight to forestall any bookish cravings I might have.

Today, my Chapters order came in the mail: A scrapbook journaling guide, a creative writing textbook, and a creative writing for kids book.

From the looks of this blog post, all that writing help is not a minute too soon!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to find an overstuffed chair, my new Casting Crowns CD, and some tea...

If Little Tiny Birdies Fly Beyond The Rainbow, Why Oh Why Can't I?

Here I am, back at the keyboard. Back in the saddle. Or whatever. (Okay, the saddle is definitely figurative.)

Whew! What a great, busy, full, amazing week! Since I only have limited time to post right now (read: I really want to go work up a sweat playing Dance Dance Revolution some more), I will summarize in a bullet list. Get ready to duck, 'cause here they come atcha:

• Great Easter weekend with a whole lotta family. There was a baby shower for my cousin Robin's first baby Owen on Saturday. What a little sweet pickle! Well, maybe more like a peach. Definitely edible. That was followed by Easter Dinner at my in-laws, where we got to meet my nine-month-old nephew Kayden for the first time. (That is definitely one of my favourite ages.) Also, for the first time, Jude and Noah "clicked" with Kayden's older sister Kayla (who is Jude's age), and they got along famously. I think Jude was just thrilled to find out he has a cousin his age, since all of his friends up here are cousins with each other, and he definitely feels the exclusion of not being "in the family."
• The next day, Sunday, was followed by more food, as well as the momentous occasion of meeting my dad's girlfriend Tina. *wolf-whistle in Tina's general direction* I think ya' got a keeper there, Dad.
• After a weekend of gluttony, we left our kids with Jason's mom and sister for the day on Monday while I drove Jason to the airport. (Don't ask about the reasons for that yet--I'm not at liberty to talk about it.) While I was in Edmonton, I went to a LASIK clinic for a consultation. And booked a surgery for Thursday!
• The intervening two days were spent doing a LOT of shopping (or so it felt like, with three little boys and a momma who are unused to spending that much time stepping in and out of stores anymore) and hanging out with my brother and father. Also, desperately trying to find a babysitter for while I was in Edmonton on Thursday.
• Said babysitter emerged--the kids were once again safely ensconced at their grandmother's house, and I was on my merry--if somewhat anxious--way to Edmonton with my brother as driver. We arrived in good time for my 11:45 appointment, and by 1:00 it was all over. I sat in the post-op room with Logan, trying to subdue the "fight-or-flight" mode my body had gone into from all the weird experiences it had just gone through, but already seeing better with my naked eyes than I had in years.
• The rest of the day was mostly spent sleeping and putting drops in my eyes, as well as getting used to the sexy goggles you have to wear while sleeping. (I could audition for The Fly--Resurrection in those babies, I tell ya'.) By the next morning at my 8:00 a.m. follow-up appointment, I was seeing 20/20 in each eye individually, and 20/15 with them together! WHOOO-HOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! (I have needed glasses since I was nine years old. This is a really big deal.)
• We flew back to Sylvan from Edmonton. Okay, not really. My brother drove his little Honda at a very legal speed-limity pace, whilst trying to addict me to a PlayStation Portable game called Patapon. (It was pretty fun, I have to admit.) I packed up my kids and the remainder of our things into the van, then drove back to Edmonton to pick up Jason from the airport, from whence we wound our wonderful way to where we wiv. Uh, I mean, "live."

So, that's pretty much it. Now, as per usual when I return from holidays, I am trying to postpone diving back into "work mode" until the last possible second, because once it starts it just never seems to stop. I can be thankful that, as far as I am concerned, summer starts in only eight weeks.

Don't mind me if I start counting sleeps already. (Only fifty-six more to go...)

WEEEEEEE'RE OUTTA HERE!

It's finally here. Spring break. I can feel my whole body longing to breathe that sigh of relief that always hits me as we finally hit the open highway heading south of our river valley. The point at which it just doesn't matter what we forgot to pack or to do. (Well, the garbage we forgot to empty while we were gone for three weeks at Christmas did do quite a number on our house's aroma. I guess that one mattered a little.)

But I can't sigh yet. In the next twenty-four hours, I have oodles of preparations to do, laundry to do, and packing to do. Hopefully it can all be done in the amount of time I have. Hopefully I do not get in so much of a hurry that I overpack. (When I take my time, I'm actually a fairly conservative packer. For our trip to the States, I took less for a family of five for three weeks than I used to take for myself for one!)

Here's something that Jason blind-sided me with on Monday: for my collective "all-special-gift-giving-days-in-one" gift for the year, he suggested that I could go get corrective laser surgery on my eyes.

While, in theory, this is something that I have longed for since I first heard about it at the age of 13, and watched Mrs. Brown walk around with the uber-sexy eye patch that was required at the time for several weeks per eye, now that I am actually confronted with the notion, my stomach is lurching around in the vicinity of my vocal chords and my mind is flopping around like a pasty trout on a hot river rock as far as decisions go.

I have spent the last two nights reverting to old sleepless habits to research as much as possible about laser eye surgery on the internet. I have also been asking myself some tough questions: am I sure I want good vision badly enough to risk becoming one of those statistics, however small, where things have gone horribly, horribly wrong? (Or even mildly wrong?) These are the only set of eyes I've got, and though they have been letting me down on a regular basis since the age of nine, at least their current decrepit state is workable, ya know?

Despite my trepidation, I have booked a consultation in Edmonton on Monday. We will see if they can sufficiently allay my fears that I can agree to this idea with confidence.

Because for every thought I have of permanent eye dryness, painful cornea rippling, or old-age concerns (of which most are unknown, since LASIK has only been around since 1991), I have about five thoughts of "wouldn't it be nice if I could actually see my legs while I am shaving them?" or "Wow. It would sure be great to not have to fumble for glasses before dealing with the screaming child coming into our room at 3 a.m." etc.

So. If anyone has any horror stories about people who have had LASIK surgery, now's the time to lay 'em on me. But please--they have to have happened to you, or someone you know well. I don't want any rumours that have been magnified through fourteen repeats of the story, until "They had minor night halos for about three months" turns into "They got abducted by aliens because they couldn't tell the difference between approaching headlights and the lights on a saucer-like spacecraft."

Happy Easter, everyone. What are you looking forward to (or not!) this spring?

Blackmail Fodder

Remember way back when, when I described the Battle of The Men In My Life?

Well, Dad, look what I happened upon last night:


Notice the shirt that Jason is wearing in this photo, circa 1982. (Try not to rub it in his face too much, 'kay, Dad?)

Honey, have you even been on a horse since then? ;-)

The Simple Things are The Best Things

And really, how does it get better than fresh, warm chocolate chip cookies?



Here is my favourite cookie recipe. I like that most of the sweetness comes from the bananas and the dried fruit (or chocolate chips, if you substitute those instead.) Also, the cinnamon helps to regulate blood sugar to avoid that spike and then crash we normally get from sweets.

Banana Oatmeal Cookies

3/4 c. butter, softened
1/2 c. maple syrup
1 egg
1 c. mashed banana
1 3/4 c. whole wheat flour
1 3/4 c. old-fashioned rolled oats
1 tsp. sea salt
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
1/2 c. chopped nuts (opt.)
1 c. chopped dates or other dried fruit (I usually use either raisins, dried cranberries or chocolate chips, or a mixture of these)

Cream butter and maple syrup together well. You may need to use an electric mixer. Beat in egg. Add banana. Stir remaining ingredients together (except dried fruit) and add in small batches to the moist ingredients. Mix well. Add dried fruit and mix. Drop by spoonfuls (I like using the Pampered Chef Small Scoop) onto greased baking sheet. Bake in 400° oven for 10 to 12 minutes. (A well-seasoned baking stone does not need to be greased, and turns out wonderful evenly-browned cookies without extra aluminum nasties from the pan.) Makes 3 1/2 dozen.

Edit 2010-01-27:
These are a few ways I vary this recipe:

Instead of 1 3/4 c. whole wheat flour, I use 1 1/2 c. whole wheat flour and 1/4 c. bulgur flour. You will need to press your cookies down with a fork before baking if you use bulgur flour in them.

Instead of 1 3/4 c. rolled oats, I use 1 c. rolled oats, 3/4 c. shredded, unsweetened coconut.

If you are out of maple syrup, 3/4 c. of honey or whole or brown sugar will work as a substitute.

Buddy, Don't You Backtalk Me!

I can picture the scene now: Little Buddy pelts out through the porch, the screen-door slamming behind him on rusty hinges. Suddenly he hears his mother's shrill voice pierce the air:

"Buddy, did you practice your harmonica? You know you can't go play with your friends until you've practiced!"

"Aw, Ma, do I have to? None of my friends have to practice the harmonica. And Billy says that the mouth harp is only for old fogies."

She comes and peers at him through the screen door with piercing eyes.

"Don't you backtalk me, boy! You know you'll never get to play Carnegie Hall if you don't practice. Now, git!" as she swats his backside with her wooden spoon on the way by.

Well, chances are, it didn't go down like that.

But I bet you never thought you'd see a harmonica player bringing down the house at Carnegie Hall, either.

About A Fish

Jude got a fish on Friday. He picked the gravel (green, of course!), picked the fish, and debated all the way home whether he was red-orange or orange-red.


He named him Louie. He has been asking me about three times a day to feed the fish, but this fish does better being fed every other day or so. I think that's been a little frustrating to Jude.


Louie's new home is beside my "books to read" pile. Maybe if I prop one open beside him he can dictate to me while I work in the kitchen. What do you think?


Louie is a Siamese Fighting Fish, and therefore destined to a lonely, solitary existence in this jar. Hopefully no one dumps anything in his water that shouldn't be there (NOAH!) or gives him too many blood worms so he dies in a myopic overindulgent orgy. I've never had a fish before, so I think I'm a little bit worried every time I pass this jar that I'm going to see him belly-up, thereby proving my complete inability to care for a pet that should be so "low-maintenance" that a child can do it. (I think I've been scared by too many finicky gold-fish stories.)

I wonder if he is related to Foo? Somehow, I don't think he'll ever tell.

(I wonder if he's even a "he?!" Hee.)

I Could Use A Little Fuel Myself

I need to get out of here--out of my house, out of this town, beyond the boundaries of these four walls and this river valley. I need to breathe fresh air, see green trees, stretch my legs and my mind and my horizons. I need to get behind the wheel and drive and drive until I don't want to drive any more. I feel the call of warm weather, warm company, and warm Starbuck's Caramel Apple Cider.

I need an adventure. I've been cooped up too long, doing the same thing, stuck in bed, too tired to do my laundry. I'm tired of looking out my own front window. I'm tired of walking the same worn paths around my house. I'm tired of being tired.

C'mon, Honey! Let's load up our stuff, load up our kids, load up the van! Let's seek out adventures, greener pastures, the wind on our faces and the sun on our backs! Let's hit the road and get out of here!

Spring. Break. Can't come soon enough.

Noah The Great Turns Four

Despite the fact that I had spent the morning and most of the previous day in bed fighting The Return of The Virus From Hell, I decided to go ahead with Noah's birthday party on Friday. Amanda, who seems to be my resident butt-saver, (okay, not quite resident, but almost!) came over to help set up a bit. Jason corralled the kids into cleaning up toys, etc. I went out and bought party favours and picked up the cake.


Noah had such a good time, as did all the other kids. The theme was Disney's Cars. Since nine out of the ten kids were male, it's no wonder it was such a big hit! Well, almost everything was a big hit--the juice didn't go over extremely well, even though we told them it was gasoline. (Jason might have ruined that a bit by then saying it was dog pee. Boys. Where do they come up with this stuff?) After my sinuses cleared a bit (the next day) and I sampled the juice again, I had to admit that limeade, banana and pineapple probably weren't the best combination, but I couldn't really tell that at the time, now could I?

Anyway, here's my photo blog of the party:

Jonah gets thoroughly dizzified before being set loose to "Stick the Number on the Car."

At least he hit the poster!

We didn't make Jabin wear a blindfold. He didn't seem to mind.

Noah wears this lion costume so much, I'm beginning to think he should have been born in August!

Put on a happy face.

Spitting out the candle.

Oh, yeah. Life is Good.