Things About Giving (Back)

So, here we are, 17 "shopping" days to go, and while I am sure that there are some of you that are far more responsible than I am, and have all of your Christmas Gifts already wrapped and under the tree, those of us who have been accidentally holding out for the just right thing might be stuck between a rock and a Walmart. God Forbid.

Shopping online is easy, fast, and you can find WAY cooler stuff that Wally world offers. I know that we already missed (on purpose) Cyber Monday, but most places online still have a few days left before it's too late to ship by Christmas. With all of those options, and assuming that you, like me, have no where local to shop, other than Walmart (God Forbid), here is something to consider: I have found that all of the cool things that I pine for online can usually be found at a site that gives back to the global community. Sometimes these are small businesses, sometimes they are charitable organizations. But if you're gonna spend online, why not make it count twice, right? So here are some of my favorite online places to shop, and some of the coolest stuff you can find... and incidentally, I know if I post these links, the ads on my blog will correspond. And that is awesome. 

1) SEVENLY . This place is the bomb. Each week they feature a new 7 day "campaign", where $7 for each item sold goes to a specific charity or organization. I have done some research into the company itself as well as the charities it supports, and you guys, it's legit. It is staffed by volunteers, so shipping is historically sporadic, but during the holiday season they have ramped up and introduced a 1-2-3 shipping policy, where Day 1 you order, Day 2 they process, Day 3 item ships. Which means you've got a few more days to get your order in before Christmas. They have a slew of awesome t-shirts themed around the movements they support, including Autism Speaks, Mercy Ships, and Show Hope, this week's campaign, supporting US adoptions for orphans in Asia. As if all of that wasn't enough, you can also buy really really awesome products from companies like Krochet Kids, who provide work to impoverished families in Uganda and Peru, to produce one of a kind crocheted goods. I have this hat. It is RAD. 


 They also sell Giving Keys, which make really cool gifts-that-keep-on-giving, and Pendleton throw pillow covers. Need I say more? Sevenly is an amazing way to get your holiday shopping done AND give back.

2) Bravelets.com - this website is pretty awesome too. For almost any cause you can imagine, you can order a very cool looking bracelet and $10 of the cost goes to the cause of your choice. You can even set up your own cause... one that is near and dear to me is the Wildland Firefighter Foundation, so I ordered the braided leather bracelet, knowing $10 went straight to WFF. And I love bracelets. Especially cool ones that mean something. Who can't stand a little reminder to "be brave"? I know I can.


3) TOMS.com - talk about writing the book on charitable spending, Toms might be one of the best examples of how to do it. Not only is all of their stuff RAD, as in, I want it all, but for every single THING you buy, they give one to a child in need - all over the world. I mean, how cool is that? And oh, by the way, they have coffee now. WHAT???? BRB, got some shopping to do. 



4) OK, so this one isn't a charitable organization, per se, but it is a very small business, and they sell SO MUCH COOL STUFF, including Krochet Kids knits, and other fair trade, locally sourced stuff. I found Pulp & Circumstance when I had a few hours to kill in the cute little town of Newberg Oregon. I could have spent hours in there. And then I found their website. I have been hanging out on there A LOT. Although I haven't ordered yet, this is the first thing in my cart:



I know that there a lot more amazing places to shop online, with a little bit of looking, and maybe the extra bucks you spend count for extra Holiday Goodness because you know they are well spent. I could keep posting all night, but honestly I got distracted by all of my cool links and need to go back to my browsing. 



Things About Scrooge

There is an epidemic in our town. In our state maybe. Probably all over. It is even pervading my own house. It is not the mutant flu strain that has slipped by the defenses of the All Important Flu shot. It is not the head lice, the fleas, the bacterial staph infection, the pnuemonia or the vomiting stomach virus that is sweeping our ranks, although all of those are just gross.

This epidemic is lethal. The death rate is higher than E68 or even Ebola. It is more contagious than ringworm, which, as we all know, is spread by mere imagination.

This plague is killing at alarming rates. It is cascading from house to house like a tsunami, and it must be stopped.

It is the Scrooge virus.

It is December 5th. To date, I have heard no fewer than 12 people complain about Christmas Music, and being sick of it already. And Christmas lights, and how annoying they are. We don't even have a tree up and my very own children are put out by the stress of Holiday Traditions.

WHAT. THE. HECK.

Once a year, we get to be like little children, without shame. We get to believe. We get to sparkle. Once a year. It's less than a month, people. How sad are we that we can't stand to hear "Marshmallow World" after only 5 days. What is wrong with us that "Here Comes Santa Claus" doesn't make each and every one of us giddy. Shame on us for growing up. Shame on us for Not Believing.

I have tried to explain to people why I love the movie Elf. In spite of the love/hate dichotomy that Will Ferrel presents in social circles, Elf tells the story of belief. Of simple faith and hope and JOY. To ALL OF THE WORLD. Elf celebrates childlike joy. Nothing could be more biblical, more under protected, more valuable to this world.

It struck me today, at work, in the middle of a 7 hour Christmas Music Attack on The Humbug, that our holiday music has evolved. If you listen to anything pre-1970, with the exception, perhaps, of Elvis crooning about his Blue Christmas, holiday music was full of Santa Claus and Reindeer and toys and Children Behaving and Snow and Snowmen and ALL OF THE CHRISTMAS THINGS! And then WHAM! We grew up. Christmas became about our jilted lovers and broken hearts and what, even revenge? Not that there isn't a special place in my heart for Last Christmas, and pretty much Mariah Carey's entire holiday album - but I feel like we got a little lost. And maybe, it's time to go back. Or at least to remember what was so flipping awesome about a reindeer with a glowing nose and a snowman that ran through town. Because Lord knows, the Rat Pack can't have been wrong about everything.





And I will continue to be the ridiculous parent, ala National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, trying desperately, to make it the Best Christmas Ever. For my kids, and everyone's kids. Freezing your eyes shut looking for a tree, and electrocuting the neighbor cat with our Bohemian Gingerbread House Lights. Because GOSH DARNIT, I BELIEVE.

So take that, Scrooguloccocous. You ain't got nothing on me. And even if my kids bring you home with them from school like head lice, because Santa isn't cool, you'll get the same treatment that the ringworm and the staph infections got. SMACK. DOWN. Because we believe in Christmas. We believe in magic. We believe in the magic of family. And love. and Joy and Forgiveness. And I, for one, won't stop Singing Loud For All To Hear or wearing RIDICULOUS reindeer antlers to work, etc, etc, etc. So get back, all you humbugs. It's The Holidays.



Things About International Relations

Somebody decided it would be a good idea to volunteer to host an exchange student.

So, here we are, almost 5 months in, and turns out, for once, Somebody was right. It WAS a good idea. Not because the timing was perfect and life is smooth sailing. Not because we lacked drama and intrigue. But because we got When.

Fortune saw fit to smile upon us and send us a quiet little Vietnamese girl named Uyen. Pronounced, and also spelled by my very culturally sensitive sister, "When".

She is little. Older than Natalee, but also smaller. Aspen likes to compare her size to the girl that she calls YooEn. Which is, obviously, the phonetical pronunciation for her name.


She is also, in no small convenient coincidence, funny as all heck. She talks very little. Which, in this house, could be the reason that I love her the most. But when she does finally open her mouth, it's as if she saved her world class sense of humor for a weekly one liner.

When has establish FIRMLY that Wednesday is actually When's-day, and a weekly celebration of, well, her.

She has also adopted my nephews and nieces. Which is something, if you've ever met them. Not that they're not adoptable. But they're not for the faint of heart. And her heart is anything but faint. She even loves the dogs. All of them. Truck is particularly enamored of her, he sleeps in her bed most days and talks to her with great emotion every night for awhile. We haven't figured out whether he thinks she's the newest, biggest sucker and might play with him, or what, but he tries really hard to boss her around. It's fine with me, because this time in the evening is traditionally reserved for the spilling and breakage of wine glasses by his tail, scars on my legs from his toenails and lots of awkward situations when he tries to position himself as a lap dog on top of, say, Aspen, or Dagny or someone. When can take it for awhile.


As The Holidays overtake us with unbelievable speed this year, little "When" has been riding the 10-hour-road-trip-with-5-kids-and-four-dogs-20-lbs-of-apples-and-a-partridge-in-a-pear-tree roller coaster like a champ. In fact, this has been going on pretty much since she set foot on Washington pavement. She emerged from the mountains of emotional confetti that were my brother's summer wedding, which reasonably doubled as a rare-ish WHOLE DARN FAMILY AND FRIENDS reunion and was as much of an ultimate crash course in Stecker family ridiculousity as one, or When, if you will, could ask for.

Introducing her to our family Holiday traditions has been not only a delight, but also a kick in the pants. Rallying through a number of terrible Hallmark Movies, she has decided that the only prerequisite for a true "Christmas Movie" is the inclusion of snow. Therefore, we have been able to justify such rousing successes as Snowpiercer, a post-apocalyptic action thriller with a little more blood than snow. And also I can enjoy all the seasons of Once Upon a Time (which When is the resident expert on) and even much of Arrow, since almost all of those episodes have snow. Or at least frosty breath. In case you didn't notice.


When has definitely revolutionized the holidays for me (I will quit using quotations around her name now). I am excited to see what happens with the Christmas Tree and Gingerbread Houses, which, by the way, she says our house looks like. I guess that happens when you turn Natalee and Aiden loose on a mixed assortment of outdoor holiday lights. We're calling it a "Bohemian Gingerbread House", because the wanton trail of mismatched lights strung haphazardly across random walls of the house is nothing less than gypsy festivity. Not a day goes by that I don't thank the Lord that I am a rigid imperfectionist. And not a day goes by that I am not thankful for my When.

I hope Vietnam isn't permanently damaged from the Steckerization she may carry home with her. :)

Things That Embarrass Me, or Whatever

You know those really terrible Hallmark Holiday Movies? The ones that you are COMPELLED to watch every holiday season, but all have the exact same plot, with the dead spouse, the unexpected blossoming romance, and the salvation of the holiday season for some little kid with a Canadian accent who lives in Arizona? Well, none of that has anything to do with things that embarrass me, except that I will/do watch them, and also the inevitable plot twist when there is a fateful miscommunication, or the snarky, competitive skank next door tells a lie, and the unexpected lovers quit speaking, totally unreasonably, because they won't have one little conversation to fix it all. My shoulders are like that right now. That one little conversation. And it's embarrassing.

Three years ago I hurt my right shoulder under questionable and somewhat disputed circumstances. I missed several weeks of work and lost use of my right arm, but being one of the uninsured seasonal working masses at the time, couldn't get an MRI, etc. So, more or less, I self diagnosed, ala internet, self treated, ala slow workouts and ultimately, mostly healed. Then this year, my left shoulder developed similar symptoms. Suddenly, with no documentable circumstances whatsoever, questionable, disputed or otherwise, other than MAYBE a car accident I was in back in February, where I reached back to save a small dog from Certain Death. Anyway, long story short, being mentally compromised by the basic ridiculousness of my life, I went to the shoulder doctor, and mistakenly explained to him the left shoulder injury as the return of the old right shoulder injury, since the pain was IDENTICAL. Turns out, when I got home, I realized that the old injury was my right shoulder, so I went back to the doctor and tried to explain that I am an idiot, which he obviously agreed with, and ordered an MRI to make sure I wasn't just totally making crap up. Before the MRI, but after the appointment, I took a silly little spill on some pretty rad ice outside of the Krispy Kreme Donut shop as I was moving a 40lb EMT jump kit (on my right shoulder) out of the way of 1300 fresh donuts. I was mostly concerned with an awesome looking bruise on my knee until I realized, three days later, that I couldn't sleep at night or lift my right arm without excructiating pain. Now I have to go BACK to the doctor who already thinks I am insane, tell him "just kidding!" actually my RIGHT shoulder hurts the worst now, and get an MRI on that one too. And I am too embarrassed to do it. Embarrassed, tired of driving to Spokane, doctors agreeing that I am crazy, and All of Those Things. So now I am rendered virtually armless. In fact, trying to erase wet-erase marker from a dry-erase board today at school moved me almost to tears. I can't even hold a wine glass very well. Or drive. Can I get a new doctor and tell him I hurt both shoulders saving a baby from a burning house? Or can someone else call my doctor and verify my semi-sanity, and also that I am not just attention seeking? Or am I?

And there is the Hallmark Crisis. I can't face him. I would rather lie awake at night in pain than try to explain it all. Because it sounds so ridiculous: right, left, right, Krispy Kremes, jump kits... So I won't have the one little conversation that could solve All of The Problems: i.e. MRI's on both shoulders, and then surgery. (Now accepting applications for spoon-feeding care givers when I have both shoulders operated on simultaneously) As it is, I am living moment to moment figuring out which arm to use for any given movement that will result in the least amount of pain.

What frustrates/embarrasses me the most is that otherwise, I feel pretty great. I want to go running. I want to lift weights. And I can, at certain angles/modifications. But just the gravity of my arm on my shoulder joint is jaw-clenching pain. And localized pain is just annoying and STUPID. I know most of you know exactly what I am talking about. You know who you are. The knees and the backs and the ankles out there. It's a waste of time and energy. And we just need it to be better. I don't want slings or surgeries or any more spontaneous dislocations. I need to just have the stupid Hallmark Revelational talk and find my holiday resolution. But that pride thing...

So here's to cheesy holiday movies like the one you are probably watching RIGHT NOW (Mom), and  bodies that just don't bounce back like a 12 year old body would. And addled brains and fuzzy memories and just not being able to Fix Things. But also: Here's to having the one little talk. Here's to swallowing pride, acknowledging our brokenness, overcoming our sometime stupidity and being able to laugh at ourselves just like we laugh at Hallmark Movies, or at least find a new doctor.

PS: if someone wants to send this blog to my doctor, in a Hallmarkesque Santa Clausey fix-it gesture, I wouldn't mind.


Things About My Day. And Math. (Swearing Inferences Contained Within, FYI)

Today I was the 5th grade teacher. That was a first. The thing about teaching is that you have to actually teach things. Like math. If you don't already know, math and I get along about as well as long haired cats and ice water. And the thing about 5th grade, is that the math is...complicated. Especially when you haven't done math for the better part of a decade and the last math you did do consisted of lucky-guessing my way through a multiple choice challenge test of the Last Algebra Course I ever had to take in college. Because I was failing it. (PS - If you have no idea, the answer is most likely C.)

So anyway, today I was the fifth grade teacher. If your child (and, incidentally, one of mine) grows up with ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA how to find the volume of a cube, you can blame me. And also, if they are TERRIBLY CONFUSED for All of Time about mixed numbers and improper fractions, I will also accept responsibility. Because math.

I learned a lot today in the 5th grade. Like how wet-erase markers work on dry-erase boards. But how they don't come off. And how taping holes in a plastic cube and submerging it in a bucket of water is probably not the most efficient way to calculate volume. (That one was not my idea, BTW.) I also learned the the people who write curriculum, particularly 5th grade science and math, are total A-Holes. (I apologize for the swearing inference here, to all sensitive parties, but sometimes, sweating inferences are entirely called for.) Like, CAPITAL A. I learned that adjectives are way more fun, and much more flexible than measuring centimeters or multiplying decimals, because slinky and moldy can apply to almost any noun, and doctors could be deaf and holes might be invisible.

Fifth grade was a great mental workout for me. But I think it exhausted my brain for the day week, since I came home and shook up a box of Trader Joe's Tomato Soup after I took the cap off. Because math. Turns out TJ's tomato soup is pretty awesome, even as a facial masque, and makes a pretty decent dinner with grilled cheese and a coke & whiskey. Served in a snowman mug, because, well, The Holidays.

The good news for Northport is that the 5th grade class is actually a pretty decent group of mostly nice kids. Except for the one that cried during fractions. Because math. All I wanted to do was cry with her, and apparently that's not acceptable for teachers, even substitutes. I will admit that we spend part of our time allotted to math on finishing our adjective pages, because they were WAY more fun, and because math. But we managed to get it all done, regardless of what the a-holes who wrote the curriculum in cerebro-code say. We successfully discovered the cube with the greatest volume, which wasn't the one we thought - in spite of multiplying decimals. (PS - sneaking math into science is pretty much the meanest thing I think any curriculum a-holes have thought of.)

Now I am home, and with the help of my snowman mug I will launch into the first of several articles that I need to have written in 20.5 days. But there's NO MATH, no wet-erase markers, dry erase boards or cubic centimeters. Just adjectives.



Things About December 1

Today could be my favorite day of the year.

Today could be when I  take four kids to go hunt down the perfect Christmas tree, drag out 8 Rubbermaid totes of holiday joy and blare Frank Sinatra Christmas music loud enough for Canada to hear. 

Today could be the first batch of Grandma Lee's Gingersnaps. 

Or hanging miles of Christmas lights on a roof with questionable accessibility. 

Today should be the day I iron out the advent calendar, and fill the pockets with daily ritualistic traditions. 

But for right now, I'm in my own bed, with the heated mattress pad turned all the way up, and a very fuzzy wiener dog next to me, all except one of my kids soundly asleep. It's trying to snow outside, which is OK by me for December first, as long as Halle is well on her way out of the snow's reach on her (much dreaded by me) trip to Bend. 

Today could be pretty much perfect, if I decide before I crawl out of my warm cocoon to make it so. 

Yesterday I was scolding MacKenzie for complaining in the car. Complaining about being sick of Christmas music. Stinky dogs, obnoxious sisters. As if complaining helps. And she reminded me that I'm a complainer too. A bad one. Every day. It's about the 40th time this week that someone has reminded me that my children are what I model for them. Which is saddening and overwhelming. But fixable. 

So today will be perfect. In spite of all of the imperfections and worries and aches. 

Today will be my favorite day of the year, because I choose it.





Things About Movies

So.... in a longstanding family tradition of going to see a movie at the theater during The Holidays, which is actually more like a longstanding tradition of arguing about what movie to go see, when to see it, and who can throw the biggest fit for not winning the argument, but anyway... we went to see Mockingjay Part I today with the better part of 21 family members.

Here is what I took away:

Liam Hemsworth. Katniss AND Miley Cyrus, you're both idiots.

That is all.


Things About Holiday Travels

- EVERYONE needs to be in your lane.
- THE WHOLE WORLD is going to the same place
- people are lemmings in motorized weapons
- heavy rain is worse than snow
- Helicopters should be standard issue to those of us stupid enough to have more than one child
- alternate routes are from the devil
- red lights ARE the devil
- children do not help
- music does not help
- no amount of terrible, high-calorie junk food helps
- caffeine doesn't help
- nothing helps
- heavy traffic invokes nervous flatulence in large dogs
- and children


BUT

On The Flip Side

- there is family
- and good food
- and wine (with plenty of justification)
- and no driving for 2.5 days, at least
- nobody died (this time)
- all the other drivers are just trying to get to their families too. (which are mysteriously located next door to yours)
- there is pie
- and your baby brother
- and many wiener dogs

So, it's worth it.



Things I Declare

In the spirit of National Fail At Life Week, I totally bombed on my NaBloMo commitment to post every single day in the month of November. (Sorry, Amaia.) Arguably, this can be overcompensated for by multiple daily blog posts between now and the end of the month, but in the words of that immortal philosopher, Thumper, "if you can't say something nice..." And I just haven't had many nice words.

Until today.

Maybe it was the triumph of finally, if ineffectively, grounding an insolent 17 year old. Or letting go of sleep depriving nightmares about things that ultimately, are out of my control, no matter which option I take. Maybe it was stepping up to the plate of responsibility and turning down something that I wanted in order to save something that I needed. Perhaps it's the acknowledgement that NO AMOUNT of worrying, freaking out, or denying will make certain things so. Maybe it's the undying affection of a blind, obese wiener dog, who would give anything for one good snuggle, or to sleep in the arm of a hoodie for the night. Or it might be that every single fail, all of the obstacles, and each pitfall that I have encountered lately all say the same thing to me, over and over: "you're hilarious". They giggle at my foolish attempts to control the evil universe around me, they mock my feeble swings at Looking Perfectly Together. And they remind me, over and over again, that I am, in the words of my gentle ex-husband : "more broken than anyone I know." And I am. Gladly. Because it's brokenness that brings healing. And growth. Even with the pain. The only people who aren't broken are the ones who aren't living.

All of that being said, I have some Declarations About Life that I feel compelled to make:

First, and Of The Greatest Importance:

It's The Holidays

So get with the program! It is now officially time for egg nog, snow, mittens, decorations, sledding, eating Too Much and Too Well, hot buttered rum and mulled wine. Gone are the doldrums of fall and the mediocrity of seasonless apathy. Now is the time to celebrate family and love and All of The Reasons that WE ARE. 

My next declaration to you, the Whole Universe, is that I am sorry. I cannot fix it all. And for the time being, I am going to quit trying. Also, I cannot control it all. Or even any of it. So don't look at me like that. All I can do is take the next step in the Best Way I can imagine, and if you see a better way, feel free to point it out kindly. But don't think I didn't try. 

Thirdly, in the order of global announcements, I believe in Kindness. But at some point, tough is better than kind. And after many moons of "falling on my sword" and "dealing with myself", etc, etc, etc, I think I need a cosmic minute to bust a cap in the A** of destiny. Because, dude, really? Enough is enough. Take your stupid somewhere else. It's certainly not ALL my fault, and until you stop dealing from the bottom of the deck, I'd rather not play. 

In my declarations I am in no way condoning the use of Christmas Music before-after Thanksgiving, or December 1st, or Easter, or whichever your family standard is. And I am not recommending busting Ye Olde Holly and Ivy out of turn with the Cornucopia. To each his own Holiday Observations. But as for ME and MY Irreverent, Ridiculous, Totally Overrun With Hormonal Emotions House, GAME ON. 

We're watching Elf tonight. Because It's The Holidays. 



Things I Have Done In the Last Week

1. Taught kindergarten, including the days of the week song.

2. Got a lot of blood on my new jeans.

3. Taught Nattie how to make toffee bars 

4. My own darn laundry

5. Got offered a job as the lead writer for a small local publication.

6. Taught geometry and writing summary paragraphs in special ed.

7. Drank some good beer.

8. And wine.

9. And Moscow Mules.

10. Purged the house of three giant piles of junk.

11. Warded off/eradicated: fleas, head lice and at least three viruses.

12. Succesfully avoided any form of exercise.

13. Got a massage. (oh, Heaven.)

14. Worked a double shift.

15. Wrote an article. Or two. Hundred.

16. Listened to a lot of music.

18. Double booked myself at at least four jobs.

19. Made plans to run away.

20. Bought 3 cases of olives.

21. Went to my first out of town middle school athletic event.

22. Kept going. All 7 days. Against my better judgement and very strong will.


Things You Can Do

All that jazz about "if you can dream it, you can do it!" and "she thought she could so she did..." and stuff like that? They always forget to tell you about the hard work and the snail's pace crawl on the way there.

I'm not really hoping to get rich quick, although that would be nice. I am not even planning on any sort of early retirement, or living in the lap of luxury, or any lap for that matter.

But I'm always looking for the right door to open, or in some cases, window that I have to crawl through. Like a thief. Stealing my destiny.

Today was a window. Not a door. It was one stumbling step along the way to get to the place that I believe I will eventually wind up.

Today I signed some papers and did some promising with big smiles and weighty commitments for two more part time jobs. That brings me to four total part time jobs. None of which pay very well, but most of which I don't really mind doing. And I am thankful for them. All of them.

Sometimes, right in the middle of a promise to not let down the person that is offering me minimum wage, it occurs to me that I should do more. Be more. It's great that the struggle is real. But the Real is exhausting. It's not that I am unwilling to do it, or ungrateful for the work. But I am juggling a lot of things and that alone speaks to a talent that should at least come with a paid vacation. But not quite yet. Maybe over the next hill. Or through the next window.

Today was a melancholy day of harsh realizations and slight let downs. But it wasn't a bad day.

It snowed. And we saw the biggest Whitetail Buck I have ever seen. He was so big he had half a Christmas tree tangled in his antlers when he stepped out of the snowy woods. He was totally Bambi's dad. And he somehow survived late buck season. Shortly thereafter, following my friend on the dark snowy road home from middle school basketball in Curlew, she hit a cougar. A mountain lion. With her car. We couldn't find it, or the body, in the dark, but partially because we were too afraid to look very hard. But still. A cougar. In the snow. On the road. And a Very Large Buck. And a middle school basketball game. And snow. And a big stein of Very Good Beer. Overall, I came out on top.


Things About Doing the Right Things

Every day we are faced with choices. We have the opportunity to do the Right Thing. Or the Wrong Thing. Either way, there will be consequences. The severity of those consequences and the determination of whether they are good or bad consequences rests squarely on the choices we make.

For example, today I was faced with several ethical dilemmas that required me to discern between good and evil.

It started with getting out of bed. History and Mothers tell us that getting out of bed early is prudent. Even Benjamin Franklin, AKA Poor Richard, exhorted: "Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise." Despite it's singsongy excellence, this rhetoric has yet to take hold of my soul with the conviction that it should. Because in spite of every morning when I have been up before the sun, I am neither healthier, wealthier, or wiser. And some of the most profound learning I have done has happened in the wee hours, just ask anybody who has had to route the drunks from the bar at 3:30 AM. So I made the choice to stay in bed. The consequence of this action, directly, was an entirely cold house. I can easily cast blame upon the other four humans that reside here, since all of them had gotten out of bed and already left for school and my favorite child, NOONE had taken it upon herself to reload the pellet stove. My bad choice was overcome by my cold hands, which can't seem to get warm no matter how far under the covers I keep them. The only remedy was a hot cup of coffee.

The second ethical quandary that I faced today happened around breakfast time, which also doubled as lunch since I successfully avoided eating until after I had done MANY loads of laundry, made a slew of phone calls I had been putting off and finally got dressed. Just like most days in my closet, my refrigerator stared back at me with a BIG FAT nothing to eat. So I decided to just go without. Until the shakes set in, and then I ate a half pound of sharp cheddar cheese and some M&Ms, because this day, bad choices are the theme.

I went to work in the afternoon, and survived a lesson in evaluating the angles and types of triangles with a 9th grader, which very nearly made my head explode. Somehow we both survived and I came  home and did more laundry.

Now it's almost dinner time. There are two important issues weighing on me. I have some green peppers that I really need to use up and planned on making chicken fajitas for dinner. Normally this sounds awesome. But today, being a cheese-and-chocolate themed day, I can't fight the craving for something hot and baked and gooey and cheesy and totally terrible for me. Once again, my hedonism championed over my frugal sensibility and the green peppers will probably meet their fateful demise in the compost. The trouble with green peppers is that I really don't like them in anything but fajitas. I can't stand them in soup or pizza, or even in the gooey cheesy green chile and chicken and rice bake that I am making instead of fajitas. I should just man up and put them in there, but the flavor... ugh. Does my dislike of green pepper outweigh the guilt of wasting them???? The second issue, which could directly correspond to the first, or at least make it easier to decide, is the fact that I have an EMT meeting tonight and I really can't start drinking wine until afterward. Or SHOULDN'T start drinking wine until afterward. If I put the green peppers in the chicken bake, can I have wine early? Like buying an indulgence...

Not that it really helps to not have wine before the meeting. Chances are I will fight to stay awake either way. We're going over musculoskeletal injuries, and I feel as though I have had enough of those for the week, thankyouverymuch.

All of the decisions we make are based out of our own personal value systems. For me, I value sleep, cheese and wine over prudence, weightloss and propriety. Like I said before, I am a hedonist. With all of the values that correspond. In addition to food and laziness, things that are important to me are family and friends. And I would even endure a wine-less Thanksgiving to be with the people I love. Sometimes those are the choices we have to make, and they teach us what it is that is truly important to us. On the mornings that I have work to go to, to pay the bills and take care of my family, I get out of bed. If I was married to a green pepper lover, I would put green peppers in stuff. And if being with my family meant no booze for the holidays, I guess I would choose that too. Or get really sneaky. (JUST KIDDING MOM! GEEZE.)

I know the things that are important to me. And most days I think I do pretty well at making choices. Obviously, we all make the Wrong Ones sometimes. I have yet to meet someone who never makes poor choices. And if you have, I would caution you to back away slowly, then run. Because bad choices make all the good ones sweeter. Little triumphs in life, that remind us that we are strong and we are sure and we CAN do the right thing. After 5 more minutes of sleep.


Things To Prepare For

Yesterday I was the kindergarten teacher. Most of you are probably cooing in your heads about those cute little cherubs and singing songs and playing games. But if you know me, you know that I have great difficulty getting past the boogers smeared on each and every surface in the K-1 room, and really don't have much of an affinity for anything under 13 years old that isn't a puppy.

But today was good. It was much less germy than all of my worst nightmares, and  the kids were all remarkably well behaved. After surviving my first full day in the K-1 classroom, there are a few things that I wasn't entirely prepared for, emotionally mostly. So, out of the goodness of my heart, I thought I would share those things with you. Either to prepare you for your own K-1 experience, or just life in general, because everything you need to know, you can learn from a Kindergartner. Or that's what they say.

1) Just because they raise their hands, doesn't mean they have something to say. Be careful who you listen to.

2) The lead in a colored pencil is infinitely softer than the surrounding wood, and creates many tear-filled adventures around the pencil sharpener. Sometimes a gentler approach gets the job done more successfully. Or just use effing crayons.

3) Picking you nose and eating it never killed anybody. YET.

4) Growing bodies cannot be still for more than 15 seconds. Attempting longer term stillness could result in spontaneous combustion, violent seizure activity and/or vocal implosion. This is an ironic contrast to older people, who grow larger in proportion to their maintained stillness. One of life's many inverted relationships.

5) Stickers fix everything. (Tell me this isn't still true. I dare you! Dutch Bros has this one dialed in.)

6) If you put anything to music, you will never be able to get it out of your head. EVER.

7) Making kids stay in from recess for misbehavior is probably going to be more punishment for you than it is for them. This is practice for the teenage years, when anything you do to them inflicts cruel and unjust inconveniences on you, whether the kids learn anything or not. (I found a way around this as a substitute High School teacher the other day when I wrote my own dear daughter a yellow slip for her insolence [HA! TAKE THAT, SMART ONE! I CAN'T GROUND YOU BUT I CAN PUT YOU INTO DETENTION!!!!] Total win on my part. Sorry to the solutions lady at school...)

8) When all else fails, color. And don't be that one kid that will only use black. Because I mean, seriously.

9) Maybe the kinders can't read yet. But if you think about the fact that last year, the first graders couldn't read, and now they can actually tell the difference between the number 7 and a capital R, dude, they're working miracles in there. Be patient.

10) Every dirty little kid is a product of the people around him, for better or worse. Be the better.


It is my firm belief that every early elementary teacher should be nominated for sainthood or an insanity plea. The ones that work tirelessly for an entire career span are my personal heroes. Give me the blood and guts of EMS and the drama and intrigue High School or even unemployment and professional questionability, because I couldn't do it. But they do. Gracefully, endlessly. Day after day they shape our littles into the next workforce. The next generation. Our future. God bless 'em.






Things About Girls. And Beer.

It was a long time coming. Last year sometime, so long ago that I don't remember when, me and a bestie met up with my Aunt and cousin for a girls beer night in Spokane at No-Li brewing. Turns out that there is this group of gals in the Spokane area that set up micro-brew-centric events for GIRLS that like beer. We had a blast then, and I mentioned to the ring-leader that they should travel north for a visit to Northern Ales in the lovely town of Kettle Falls. Northern Ales started in Northport, and I won't lie - I pretty much lived there for a little while... but even after they relocated I retain a hometown loyalty toward them. Not to mention they make some pretty stellar beer.



Anyway, long story short, we finally set a date and sold a few tickets, and the Inland Northwest chapter of Girls Pint Out hosted a road trip to Northern Ales. So as it turns out, mid November, with sub-freezing temperatures, can be somewhat of a deterrent for a 2+ hour drive in the dark with the intention of drinking. I get it. So when only two girls from Spokane showed up, we did the only reasonable thing: overcompensate with our local presence. They kept trickling in, until we had almost a dozen gals, from many different places and walks of life. It was a fun group. And the beer...



Most Girl's Pint Out events involve beer sampling. Sometimes with food pairings, and a brewery tour, etc. Steve and Andrea at Northern Ales stepped this one up a little bit. We were each provided with a taster glass and the beer list, complete with wordy descriptions of the brews that used terms like "creamy mouthfeel", strategically placed toward the bottom of the list so that you've had enough beer that this provides ample middle-schoolish giggling. The beer was delivered to the table by the pitcherful. I don't know if you have ever calculated how many taster/shot glasses you can fill from a pitcher of beer, but with 10 beers on tap (or was it 11? I lost count after 4) that equated about a pitcher of beer apiece. And this is no lite beer.

Steve took us on a whirlwind tour of the brewery (which we were technically sitting smack dab in the middle of) between sets of the concert that his band, the Northern Aliens was playing. Talk about a man of many talents! He can play drums, brew beer AND tolerate a bunch of rosy-cheeked, beer-officianato, middle-schoolesque girls on a tour. He's a winner in my book. 


In addition to A LOT of beer, we got some of the best chips and salsa on the market, the brewpub's "Soggy Snacky" (a creative moniker for crostini with oil and vinegar), and a couple of pizzas that were seriously to die for. I have never eaten anything at Northern Ales that I didn't want to dedicate an entire blog to, much less my whole diet plan.

The giggling set in when we were about 3.75 pitchers deep - part of the way through the tour when we witnessed a couple emerging from one of the coed bathrooms together. I mean, the sign says...



It was a great night. With great food, great company and AMAZING BEER. I could easily do that once a month. Or week. Or every night. If I could somehow relinquish the necessity of daily functionality.

Check out Girl's Pint Out on Facebook - there are some awesome upcoming events, like a hockey game in January, that I CANNOT wait for. If you aren't from the Great North Best, no harm, no foul - there are regional GPO chapters all over the place. Look it up in your area. It's a great way to meet other crazy girls and get in on some sweet beer-oriented deals.




Things About Wearing A Lot of Hats

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of working. Going and doing and being, a lot of things all at once. I have switched hats on the run (literally) from Kindergarten Teaching Aid, to waitress, to High School Drama Teacher, to EMT, to Wanna Be Writer, to Special Ed Teacher, to Mom, to Sister, To Friend and sometimes, if I get my way at all, I get to wear my Sweatpants and Wine Hat at home on the couch.

Yesterday was no different from the rest. I worked at the restaurant all day and then went home and made dinner, did some laundry, and went out to visit some friends and the last remaining bar in town. It was a difficult decision to make, since I had fallen prey to my heated mattress pad in the late afternoon and was pretty much hunkered down for the night with a rental on Amazon. But the friends were persistent, and the movie was pretty terrible. I made the mistake of assuming that any Russell Crowe movie is gonna be good, especially if he is paired up with Jennifer Connelly, like in A Beautiful Mind, but Noah wasn't helping the Doldrums that seem to be pursuing me relentlessly, so I gave up, or gave in, and put some jeans on and went to Kuks. I am glad I did. Funny how those little choices can have life altering ramifications.

There was a rowdy crowd there for the darts tournament, including a bunch of hunters and some not-local guys who are working on a contract up here indefinitely. Most of these guys have been in the Mustang at one point or another, so I knew them by face if not name. As soon as I walked in a few of them recognized me as the morning coffee pourer, etc. They made fun of the red wine that I was dragging my way through, but I had been to the brew pub the night before and, well, I just can't do two nights in a row like that any more. After awhile some of them disappeared, and shortly thereafter, one of my friends came to get me. Urgently.

One of the visiting lads had taken a swan dive out of the sunroof of his moving vehicle. He had landed on his face, and when I got to him, he was wedged into the backseat of his pickup, bleeding everywhere, with some very frightened friends around him. I told them to call 911 as soon as I saw him. He'd done a good job tearing the right side of his face off, including his ear. I sent random strangers to my car to get my bags while I held onto his bleeding head, only imagining what the inside looked  like if the outside had sustained this much damage. Not to mention his spine. He was conscious, and talking to me. Which was a relief. The position we were scrunched in the vehicle was eerily similar to the crash scenario we had just done at the school. Head injury and all. I got some semi-drunk volunteers to get a backboard wedged in behind him and we rolled him up on the bench. My hands never left his torn up face. This was one of those times that I wish that I could do more. The kids that were there with him (they were all in their early 20s) had sobered up quickly at the sight of his dangling ear. I talked a couple of them through how to hook up my oxygen tank, only to find out that it was empty. In the 45 minutes that we waited for the ambulance, I went over and over in my head how dumb it was that this good looking 22 year old kid had been sitting in the Mustang this morning, drinking coffee, and now he was on his way to plastic surgery, at the VERY least, and lucky to be alive. For a few minutes of drunken stupidity. I wished to God that I had three sets of hands - there were so many other things that maybe I could have done. Or more supplies. Or any kind of help or preparedness. These are the moments that highlight our lack as a tiny, underfunded town. And our helplessness as humans to undo even one bad decision. The ambulance got there after what seemed like forever, and we got him successfully transferred. Later, his buddy called me to say that, sure enough, he had a spine fracture and had been flown by helicopter to Spokane. Even so, he's a lucky dude. Lucky and dumb. I went home with blood on my hands and jacket and shoes and woke MacKenzie up to tell her that I would rather see her never drive a car than to forget for an instant that they are deadly weapons. I hope the kid's face comes back together ok. He is a handsome boy. But he'll never be completely intact again. And maybe that's how some of us have to learn. It makes me sad. And Angry. And feel very small and helpless. I liked him better when I was his coffee pourer and not the person holding his face together.

Tomorrow I go back to Kindergarten. Where the responsibility is no less than it is in the back of that truck. Because somewhere along the way, the kids have to learn about good decisions and bad ones. And really, the responsibility is always there, even pouring coffee, to be kind, and to be wise, and to make good choices that other people see. It doesn't matter how many hats I wear, my job is really the same. I am thankful for ALL of my jobs, every role I play, because even on the days when I pretend to be a teacher, I am fairly certain that I am learning more than anybody.


Things About Nothing

I felt kind of nothing-ish today. 

Like maybe I need some vitamin D and/or a BIG glass of wine, because... meh. 

I went to work and it was a busy day. I probably covered about 16 miles in a 200 square foot room and that's a lot. My legs and feet are telling me about it now. 

I came home, and since there were no children here to be annoyed with, I became annoyed with myself and took a nap, which was pretty awesome, but still, the nothingness woke me up with that nagging, whiny voice. 

I killed two large black spiders in the bathtub that I am fairly certain were doing a mating ritual of some sort, and probably as a result have staved off a generation of Evil from haunting my bathroom. That accomplishment in and of itself really warrants a reward for the day. Like cheesecake. Or a big bowl of macaroni and cheese. Or something terrible like that. But those things seem terribly far out of reach. Or at least out of my bed and away from the heated mattress bad that has become affixed to my body like a cocoon. I may not emerge all winter. Maybe I should be hibernating. Maybe I will emerge like a butterfly, all bright and svelte and not BLAH. And deadpan. And lacking color and life like the nothingness of today. 

Maybe tomorrow will be a something kind of day. I think I will make it so. 

Things That I Am (NOT) Mad About

This is the month that gratitude is supposed to be extra important, so, true to my rebellious form, gratitude happens to be the thing that I am struggling with the most at the moment. In fact, instead of feeling thankful, I have been all crabby and mad at the world. For all of the ways in which it seeks to rip me off. But after about 15 minutes (ok, maybe like three days), I can't even stand to be around myself, because that's just unpleasant. So, in an effort to be less unpleasant, or at least be able to stand myself...

We only had one customer at work last night, and he kind of creeped me out when he asked to touch my hands to see if they were as soft as he thought... but I got to go home early, so I am not even mad.

I had to comb head lice out of one of my kid's (who shall remain nameless) hair last night. I don't do hair. Especially licey hair. But the rest  of the monsters were totally lice-free. One out of four ain't bad, so I am not even mad.

Aspen hates to take showers, but, on the fateful lice-quest last night, she had the healthiest, cleanest scalp by far. Dirty kids for the win. I am not even mad. 

One of the middle children (who shall also remain nameless) had a pretty bad Nattitude last night. But taking away and iPod and grounding her reminded me that I am still a mom and not entirely powerless. And I wasn't even mad. 

After 37 family meetings about using Everybody Else's towels/toothbrushes/razors, last night Uyen and Natalee realized that they were inadvertently using the same towel, and Aspen and MacKenzie discovered that they were advertently (on one part) using the same toothbrush, and maybe, FINALLY, we will have a breakthrough, since they were all grossing out about sharing towels and toothbrushes (THIS IS WHAT I HAVE BEEN SAYING ALL ALONG!) I win. And I am not even mad. 

And after countless lectures about the Importance Of Doing Chores, even when mom is at work, last night was the Height of Fail in this area. I made them help me with All Of the Undone Chores to the tune of much stomping and door slamming. But ultimately, I got some stuff put away. So I am not even mad. 

Every bad thing has a good side. Like cleaning your house really well and washing ALL OF THE BEDDING several times in a couple of weeks, because, you know, the lice. And not having work sometimes makes the bills seems scary but, hey - couch time? I can dig it. And if your heart was never broken, and the one you loved never hurt you, then you would never know how to grow stronger and be better and how important it is to hunt for real love. Selfless love. Chase it down and live in it. Be it. And let it grow up around you, and overtake you. And you might live your whole life in nowheresville - except for the hurts that chase you out. And the troubles that make you fight. So for all of the bad things, and all of the battles lost. All of the fails. I am not even mad.




Things About Judgement

Head Lice.

Misbehaving Kids.

Failed Marriage.

Weight Gain.

Alcohol.

Self Indulgence.

Poor Money Management.

Bad Taste In Men.

Spiritual Floundering.

The line gets blurry between what they (the outsiders) judge me for, and what I judge myself for. But there's always judgement, isn't there? And where it leaves off, guilt takes over. And there's always the "friend" that will gross out at your head lice instead of bringing the much needed wine. And there's always the family that knows that some things, you just can't control. But still, the judgement. And the guilt.

Part of me wants to crawl into a cave and hide. Part of me wants to give them the finger and leave a family of lice on their pillow. But the rest of me knows that I am just like them. Imperfect, slightly insane. Struggling to make it all work. The only difference is that I have a Moscow Mule in my hand, and I am just gonna shake it off... to annoy you.