Change

Open my garage and you will smell the winds of change. Well, actually the smell is musty old cardboard boxes dug out of multiple dumpsters around the city, but to me it is the smell of something new and exciting. It is the smell of dead winter plants returning to life under the spring Sun. It is the smell of hot dirt in a new garden. It is the smell of my toddlers sweet sweaty hair after playing in her new giant backyard. I am fired up about this change of address. Almost everything is done - mail forwarded, utilities transferred, and belongings (almost) all packed. This ship sails on Tuesday.

Our Christmas was different but fun this year. We experienced our families annual get together via my brother's web cam on his laptop strategically positioned in the corner of a room. Thus allowing us visual and audible access to all the present ripping and pie eating. Why didn't we make the short five hour journey to be with family during Christmas, you ask? Toddler + 3 week old + wife still recovering from a c-section and unable to lift said toddler + 5 hours in a car x (Toddler + screaming baby + 5 hours in a car) x
poopy diapers ⁿ. It was nice to be a part even if it was through a small impersonal window.

White Christmas

Merry Christmas!

Fishing

Is there anything better than fishing? I think not. I miss fishing. When I was younger I would fish all the time. As you can see from the picture, my father had a rod and reel in these hands as long as I can remember (not only that but what an awesome outfit). Here is a true tragedy: it has been almost 3 full years since the last time I baited a hook and dropped a line in the drink. This is something that needs to be remedied. I hope to log many hours in the years to come fishing with my own children, but for now I have to stop typing and watch ABC videos on SesameStreet.org with the toddler next to me begging for "ADCD, ADCD..." Technology sucks.

Uugg Packing

I have packed up all of my worldly possessions into an ever-growing number of cardboard boxes and moved them to a new residence six times in the past eight years. This move will be number seven. I am going to tell you right now...moving sucks! Wrapping, packing, labeling, lifting, shifting, sliding, straining, grunting, and groaning have worn down my soul to a tissue thin barrier. That tiny barrier between sane and insane is the only thing preventing me from taking all of my crap and throwing it into a blazing fire.

I could just live in the woods. No taxes. No job. No crowded grocery stores and bumper to bumper traffic. Just man, nature, and a homemade weapon for hunting. I'm talking Man vs. Wild combined with Survivorman times forever. If I was single with no kids this would be a very viable option.

Weaning Cupcake

We were sitting at the breakfast table yesterday chowing down on some syrup saturated waffles when we heard Isabel say "Izzy feed!" I looked down the table and there sat my little year and half old with her shirt up and Cupcake (her favorite doll) up to her chest apparently attempting to breastfeed as her mommy does new baby brother. It was hilarious. I don't really remember what we told her afterword but at some point I remember her yelping, "Daddy, Booby Milk. HAhaHAha!" My kid is nuts. She will be the one at school talking about the anatomical terms for usually unmentioned body parts, the one who spoils the idea of Santa Claus and the one who tells her classmates where babies really come from. She is superwoman. She is Einstein. She is Marion Jones minus the drug abuse. She is superior in every way to all of your children - future, past and present. Don't be jealous, just accept it.

Now since we have established that, let us move on to better stuff like the fact that we are moving into a sweet new rent house. That's right people. We got approved. This place is perfect. It is a small little house on one acre - half of that wooded with tall trees. The property is surrounded by property. Everyone around it has multiple acres for horses and such. There is a ton of perfect sunny space for a full garden this spring (most likely in raised planter boxes since most landlords don't really appreciate tenants tilling up their land). The little house has a sweet living room with ceiling to floor windows on three sides looking out over an open field. It has a small deck on the back of the house and a covered porch on the side where much coffee and conversations will be devoured as suns set and stars sparkle. We are really excited about this next phase of life on the Front Porch Farm. Maybe now, being trapped in the city life will be less like a life sentence with no parole, and more like 3 to 5 for tax fraud in a federal penitentiary with tennis courts and knitting lessons. The big move is New Year's Day, so I am off to start packing.

The Chaos and the Calm

A Lemony Catastrophe

Our soon to be former townhome complex is having its annual Christmas party tomorrow evening and since we live in one of the odd numbered homes we were assigned to bring a dessert. Now, I am not really one for social engagements - I much rather prefer sitting at home with a good book wearing clothes so comfortable that they surely are not suitable for public use (maybe I just don't spend enough money on clothes but their is a noticeable difference between the comfort of clothes deemed fashionable and the clothes us normal people lounge around in at home - why can't sweat pants be cool or a shirt with crusty pit stains be all the rage). Although I would rather stay home, we decided it would be nice to drop by for a few minutes, if for no other reason than to show off my perfectly perfected lemon bars courtesy of Martha Stewart's Cookies. So, I carefully and lovingly spent this afternoon preparing those delicious squares of tart goodness to share with my unfriendly neighbors who undoubtedly, with a single taste, would loathe their very existence for not having got to know me during my short stay in their neighborhood and would instantly shower me with offerings and gifts for blessing them with the greatest treats to ever cross their lips.

I donned my oven mitts and gently slid the 13x9 dish of sugary lemon heaven from the oven rack, I let it cool slightly and as I lifted the edges of the parchment paper (which I have never used before and will never use again)...PLOP! I lost my grip and my lemon squares became ugly lemon smush. My first thought of "OH CRAP!" was quickly interrupted by "Oh well." For I quickly realized the disaster was much to my favor. Although they look hideous they taste exactly the same. I no longer have to share my lemon smush/squares. Therefore I learned, when life gives you lemon smush just eat it and be glad you don't have to share all the time.

New Casa?

Cross your fingers, make a wish, say a prayer, or whatever it is you do because I may have found the perfect rent house with a TON of space for all my things that grow - like kids and plants. Hopefully, we can finalize this baby. Stay tuned.

Hot Chocolate or Eggnog?

Life has been crazy this last week or so, but it has also been extra joyful. Despite the new baby sleep deprivation and the toddler who has suddenly decided now would be the perfect time to turn her toddler-drive on full throttle, life is amazing. I am hard pressed to remember very many times in my life better than the last couple of days I have shared with my family. Sure I am trapped in the city life. Sure things would be even better if I were sitting on a porch in the country looking out over my land sipping apple cider made from my own trees. But right now I am smiling and loving my little family. I don't have a home in the country yet, but I have a steaming mug of hot chocolate calling my name in the kitchen and a jug of cold eggnog in the fridge just waiting to be swigged. Folks, life doesn't get much better than having a choice between hot chocolate and eggnog.

The garden is no more. That's right, I ripped all those old tired hags straight out of their stale beds and laid them to rest in a small nook hidden from view around the corner of my house (I am not allowed to compost, otherwise I would). It was sad to see the old plants go, but I also had a surge of excitement as I started thinking about planning for next spring. It stands to be my best year yet. We will hopefully be moving to a new rental home soon, which will allow me to grow a larger quantity of produce. Until then, I will keep sipping hot chocolate and chugging cold eggnog.

Almost Over the Hump

Coffeecoffeecoffeecoffeegivemecoffeecoffeecoffeecoffee

needmorecoffeecoffeecoffeecoffeenosleepnosleepjust

coffeecoffeecoffeecoffeeohnooutofcoffeeneedcaffinegive

mecokecokecokecokecokecokemustbuymorecoffeecoffee

coffeecoffeeohpreciouscoffeemysaviormyfriendmycoffee

coffeecoffeecoffeetoomuchcoffeecoffeecoffeecoffeecoffee

sleep.

Hearty Breakfast with a Side of Stress

I am currently typing with one hand. The other is holding my brand-spanking-new baby boy - Nathan - all 8 pounds 12 ounces and 21 and a half inches long of him. I loved him instantly. A lot of proud fathers like to proclaim their child is special or unique but mine is the real deal. He was born with a super power. It must be a unique mutation on the genetic level, which has left him with the ability to suck all of the sleep out of the world. Wherever he goes he sleeps, while others suffer in an insomniatic state of no sleep and crusted over mental abilities. He is going to rule the world some day.

I remember the first several weeks of my daughters existence being rough, but I must have blocked out the full blast of the harsh winds of remembrance. This no sleep business is horrible son. In fact, I just realized that I am sitting here typing instead of sleeping, while he and the toddler and the mommy are all catching some heavy zzzz's. Therefore, I am going to stop being and idiot and go get....zzzzzzzzzzzz.

Meet Nathan

He is here. We are home. Nocona is recovering. Isabel is bonkers. I am exhausted. More Later.

Harvesting Offspring

In a little less than two hours, we will be leaving for the hospital to return with a freshly plucked son! We will squeeze him, poke him and sniff him to make sure he is ripe, but I happen to know he is purely organic and perfect. We are ready for our new little addition. We are ready to see his tiny face. We are ready to shower him with kisses. We are ready to introduce him to Big Sister. We are ready for the month (if we are lucky) of sleep deprivation. We are ready for the obscene amount of poo-filled diapers. We are ready for spit-up. We are ready for "coos" and gurgles. We are ready. Today 3 become 4. I hope we are ready.

The Stockings are Hung by the Chimney with Care

Black Friday

If a red "sky in morning" means "sailors take warning," then what does waking up with a migraine headache mean? This is the first one I have had in almost two years. I used to get them quite frequently in college, then less frequent in grad school, then maybe once per year or two after that. When I went to the doctor about it early on, he said these types of headaches are caused by vasoconstriction in the brain thus potentially effecting vision and causing acute pain. He said the tricky part is figuring out your trigger: too much caffeine, too little caffeine, stress, certain foods or dyes, etc. I used to think caffeine, but now I know it is stress. Last night, for some reason I decided to lay in the bed with the weight of all my worries lying on top of me. I rarely dwell on the negative, but my mind was swimming in it last night. Dwelling on worries=stress=vasoconstriction=migraine=fat headache=crap start to my day.

On a less headachy note, Thanksgiving was deliciously worthy of thanks. I (with only a little assistance) successfully prepared my first Thanksgiving feast including: herb roasted turkey, fresh yeast rolls, corn on the cob, green beans, dressing (this is where the help came in), sweet potatoes, fresh cranberry sauce (which was forgotten in the fridge), and 2 pumpkin pies. The one day a year it is acceptable and encouraged to overeat. Today, as soon as my head feels a little better, I need to get my workout on - extra long, extra effort. My Christmas wish is to not indulge a bulge, but instead workout with extra vigor and eat in a manner that allows me to feel refreshed after a meal as opposed to sinking. Healthy Holidays everybody!

'Twas the Night Before Overeating

'Twas the night before Thanksgiving and all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Meanwhile, out in the country, my entire family has, once again, gathered all together and is hooting, hollering, laughing, eating, loving, sharing, sitting, talking, remembering, and enjoying. And here we sit.........waiting..........on...............baby.............Nathan............to..............hurry.............up. Life is good though. For tomorrow will find me a year older, with a turkey, fresh baked yeast rolls, sweet potatoes, corn, 2 pumpkin pies and a birthday cake all in my cross hairs of imminent and swift destruction. I will give thanks.

Elephant and Things in Trees

Productivity

Sewing machine? I am a sewing machine. I finally finished all of Zoe's Christmas present foods and "paper" bag. I am most proud of the sandwich and the egg. The sewing machine was only used on the grocery bag (Nocona did that part...I mean give me a break I'm already sewing, to use the machine would be just too far). Everything else was done by hand. It was a lot of fun and actually pretty easy. Next up, a new pair of jeans (not really). In addition to felt foods, I made a mobile for baby Nathan, who still has yet to make his grand entrance, and I also made a sweet elephant clock out of the same old salvaged fence wood I used to make Nathan's changing table as well as a bunch of bird houses. I'll post some pictures of the little nature mobile and elephant clock later.

The weather here has been nothing short of spectacular the last couple of weeks. In the mornings and evenings, we bundle up in jackets and hats to walk the crunchy leafed path to the park. I intentionally dress too light in order to soak in the full cold of the northern blasts of wind. When I look down at Isabel riding in the stroller, I often see my feeling of contentment and joy expressed on her little face as she points her nose into the breeze and says, "wwwiiiind!" We swing and slide and climb until our need for lunch or dinner outweighs or want for fun. Then we load up and stroll home. So far, my days off have been a fantastic look into what the life of a wealthy heir might look like...minus the wealth. Maybe I was born during the wrong time period. I should have spent my days at home building barns with neighbors and working the fields along side my sons, while the wife and daughters cooked up hearty breakfasts and sewed awesome new clothes (note: I was just stating traditional roles of a time gone by. I would have no problem whatsoever putting my girls to work while I stayed inside and made a scrumptious meal and sewed some felt foods). It was a hard existence then, but you have to know at the end of the day they found a much deeper sense of satisfaction in their labors and life than we do now. Who says we can't still live like that!?

Books and Bearded Holidays

I once wrote a children's book called Corn Boy and Peanut: Adventures in Eating. I just found this picture on my computer and had to post it because it is hilarious. But, I have no intentions whatsoever of revealing the story line, so all you empty-headed plagiarizers out there can take a hike. Actually, I want to talk about my beard. My gloriously growing beard. My four days of shaving strike look more like two and half weeks. Its like each little hair on my face is stretching its neck to the max with the longest sigh of relief. I never used to shave. Oh, I would break out the razor somewhere in the neighborhood of once or possibly twice a month, but never more frequent than that. It was great! During my month off, I have granted my little facial proteins a pardon. Well, I guess it's more like a stay of execution since they will be back under the knife at the start of the new year. So, throw out those razors and join me for the bearded holiday revolution!

A Good Day at Work

First things first: Baby News...still waiting...

Now, gather up all your friends and family, get as close as you can to the screen and prepare yourself for the greatest announcement in years. Are you ready? You sure? This is big time stuff...seriously gather everybody around. I'll wait................ok, here it is:
I DON'T HAVE TO GO BACK TO WORK UNTIL JANUARY 3RD!

That is correct my friends there will be no more daily donning of the uniform, no more 30 pounds of gadgetry upon my torso for 8 hours x 5 days a week, no more cramming all that into a tiny car surrounded by electronics only to turn around and unpack it all every 20 minutes or so, no more chasing dumb fools who I don't really care to catch, no more screaming violent couple counselling, no more ill disciplined teens with frontal lobe malfunctions, no more 5 car hit and run DWI major accidents on the freeway during rush hour surrounded by thousands of road raged motorist who want nothing more than for me to fall off the edge of the earth so they can speed past on the shoulder to get home to their wife and kids, and no more just having to go to work when my girls need a fun-filled afternoon of Dad Time. It's gonna be great! After all a bad day at home is better than a good day at work!

Fake Out

Last night, as I was cruising around at work, I got the call I was waiting for.

"I'm having contractions," Nocona said.

"What?" I say, not so much as a question, as to just allow my brain a second to process.

"I'm having light contractions."

"Sweet! Do you need me to hurry and come home?" I asked.

"No."

"No?"

"No. Not yet. They are still light and inconsistent," she said rather nonchalantly for someone approaching the world's most exhausting exercise...

So, the night went on with calls back and forth between contractions and trips to the jail, but all to no avail. She went to bed and woke up with hardly any more episodes. False Labor. False Alarm. I must admit my excitement is divided - 60% new baby, 40% no more work until after New Year's (ok maybe 50-50 or 30-70, who knows?) I'm just ready to see the new little man and introduce him to his new world. Everything is ready, son. Hurry up!

Just Say No

Let me give you one big fat reason not to get the H1N1 Virus Vaccination...Zombies. That's right, undead, flesh eating, aimless wandering Zombies. Doesn't this whole thing sound just like a blockbuster movie? The news media and government officials terrify all of us concerning the H1N1 Influenza Virus, practically insisting we get vaccinated immediately. So, being the good obedient mindless drones we are, we all rush over to our local clinics and family physicians to get our shots. Next thing you know, it's six months down the road and the hidden mutating side effects of the vaccine begin to take full effect. At first, there are a few strange reports out of east Africa, which are followed by similar medical mysteries in various locations around the globe. Before long, the situation is pandemic. Every single human who received the vaccination has undergone the same horrific mutations: rotting flesh, a significant loss of cognitive abilities with the exception of basic survival instincts, which leads to their uncontrollable urge to feast on the flesh of individuals who remain unaffected due to the facts that a) they already contracted the H1N1 Virus therefore did not get the vaccine or b) they were born with a certain genetic makeup that enables their immune system to fight off the mutating effects of the vaccine. So, the more of us that stand up to the man and refuse to be intimidated by local news broadcast of doom and gloom, the more of us there will be to fight off the Zombies in the end.

Strong Cup of Joe

Whhoooo can sew?!

This is Nathan's new lovey courtesy of Dad's new tender sewing sissy hands.

Our Pets are Quiet

Good news and bad news. The good news is the new neighbor moved in a couple of days ago and we went out to meet her. She is a very pleasant late middle-aged (apparently single) lady who works as a nurse at a local hospital. No loud teenagers - thumbs up. No thuggy rap - thumbs up. No convicted felons - thumbs up. The change of neighbor appeared to be a sparkling fortunate success...then came 6:36am...bark, bark, bark, bark, bark bark, bark, bark, bark, bark bark, bark, bark, bark, bark.... This will not do. Folks, let's just say this boy grew up in the country and I have no qualms, whatsoever, concerning the killing of small animals. They used to call me "Disposal Unit #1". Don't mistake this for animal cruelty - Michael Vick-type individuals need a good butt kicking (or maybe throw them in a ring with a couple of rabid pitbulls and see how they fair). I'm simply saying people come first. If a dog's barking keeps you from precious sleep - you teach it to shut up! If it won't shut up - you do what you have to do. Am I really going to feed Nurse Neighborly's dog ground meat mixed with enough rat poison to kill a small rhino...no. But, I am going to make a few suggestions and then, when my lease is up, get the heck out of here. Its time for at least a backyard again anyway. Why can't everybody's pets be like ours? (see picture)

All Grown Up

My baby lettuce seeds are all grown up now. Tonight, I will use some of the fresh leaves in a salad for part of my dinner. Nothing taste better than food you planted yourself. I also saw a couple of fall cherry tomatoes growing. Aside from the tomatoes and the lettuce, everything is getting yanked this week. I considered allowing the okra a little more time, but its final pardon was denied and it is time for it to walk the "green" mile. I'm a little sad to say goodbye to this year's crops (I use the word crops in its most pitiful sense). But, now we can all lay dormant for the winter and begin to dream about next year's improvements.

Just Call Me Mr. Woman

So, I sew. I have officially stepped over it. It being the invisible line in my brain in which I could approach but not cross. Its the great barrier dividing football watching, beer chugging, free-throw shooting, fast car driving, and gun shooting from bread baking, curtain hanging, furniture arranging, and fashion awareness (if you've ever seen me, you know this awareness is pretty lacking). The two sides have lived together with mutual respect and admiration, but the silently agreed upon boundary has been broken...I sewed. However, I have justification. Christmas is rapidly approaching and in an effort to save some mullah I have broadened my horizons. It was actually kind of fun, and super simple. Who needs to go to 4 years of medical school and 7 more years of surgical residency?! Come on over and I'll stitch up that pancreas and abdominal wall for free. The idea for the felt veggies and finger puppets came from this website Nocona loves called thelongthread.com. It has a ton of ideas for making gifts and things. Made gifts are better than bought gifts anyway. And, if that's not enough justification, I still carry a gun and fight for a living...a little sewing's not going to have too much impact.

Free is Better Than Not Free

I love free stuff! My mother-in-law drinks somewhere in the neighborhood of 2,003,876 Diet Cokes per month and saves all the bottle caps and 12-pack codes for me. I take the codes and enter them at mycokerewards.com. The codes add up to points that can be used to purchase free stuff (well, free for me at least). So far, I have about 7 of more new year-long magazine subscriptions. BooYah. Everybody in this house loves to read. I think Isabel's love for reading is the result of seeing mommy and daddy reading all the time. Who needs cable?! Don't you think part of societies problems could be solved if we turned off the 400 channel lineup more often, threw away the video games, unplugged the constant background noises and instead, walk over to the library, get a free card and loose ourselves in the words and worlds of books. And, beside that, the occasional 25 cent late fee beats the pants off of a $130 cable bill every month.

The Halloween Harvest

This "weekend" (Wednesday/Thursday for us) was treated to a visit from my parents. It was great getting to just spend time relaxing together. There's never the pressure to go go go and do do do. We can just sit in the same room, reading magazines and enjoying each other's company. My dad gave me an enormous stack of Handyman magazines, and just a mere glance in their direction has made me fired up for building stuff. It doesn't even matter what. I just want to build. Someday, I will have my own piece of dirt in the country and will build the ultimate project, a home, with these two hands I use to type. I would love to buy a little old shack of house that I can just buy outright and then use the money I would have spent on the mortgage for slowly building my custom home. Save a little, build a little, save a little, build a little...until it's finished. Ah, to completely own my own home on my own dirt with my own plants, dog, cat, chickens, goat, dairy cow, bees and whatever else and not owe a stinkin' dime to anybody. Someday!

Its Not All Grey's Anatomy

I spent last night with a fat prostitute. Let's just say this foul smelling woman set a new standard in my book of all things crude, rude and socially unacceptable. She was a jail inmate medical transfer, and to make things worse, we were attended by the world's most impersonal ill mannered hospital staff. At one point, I politely informed a nurse, "Hey, our lady (I use that word in its loosest sense) really needs to go to the restroom."

The nurse slapped down her papers, gave me her most put-out expression and said, "The bathroom is right around the corner."

"Um, she can't really walk and she is hooked up to an IV," I replied.

"Look!" The long nosed nurse exclaimed, standing up quickly in a show of aggression to reveal her full 5' 2" blue scrubbed frame, "We have two trauma helicopters coming in right now. We don't have time to deal with this!"

"Oh alright," I said calmly, "I guess no one on the hospital staff ever planned for there to be more than three patients at once in here."

"Just handle it!" And then she stormed off to spit venom at someone else.

I slowly walked back over to my partner who was seated in our curtained area paying about as much attention to our screaming patient/inmate as the semi-comatose elderly man lying next to her. "This place sucks," I say. He looks up briefly before returning to his phone video game.

"You better get someone quick, or I'm peeing in this ******* trashcan!"

"No don't do that," I plead, "Just because you are criminal doesn't mean you have to be a complete savage." This comment was followed with a level of verbal filth reserved for the darkest corners of society. This incredibly stinky woman had been to those corners. I guess more precisely she worked those corners. As she continued spilling verbal sewage, she slowly slid to the edge of the bed and started to stand. I ran over grabbed her arm and said, "Let's try to walk over to the bathroom." One wobbly vertigo step later we both realized the bathroom wasn't happening.

"I'm going! I'm going!" she screamed.

"Quick," I say to my partner, "Grab that bedside toilet by that dude's bed." He gloves up, grabs the pot and drags it over to us. I open the lid revealing a small trickle of urine already left inside.

"I'm not using that!" Then she turned her now naked enormous behind around, sat down on the trash can and began to urinate. "Don't just stand there officer! Go get me some tissue!"

Looking the opposite way and praying to God my peripheral vision would not betray me by allowing me to see any of the disgusting sight I informed her that I had no idea where bathroom tissue was kept in this place because, "...I don't work here and no where in my job description is helping a woman take a piss in a trash can!" Fortunately, my partner noticed a paper towel dispenser in the hall and grabbed a wad of them. After an extremely foul minute or two of having to watch my handcuffed cavewoman attempt to pull up her pants and get back in the bed, the event was over. I sat back down in my chair exhausted (already 2 hours overtime) and marvelled at the idea that there was a man somewhere that had paid to be with this woman. No one should be that desperate.

Still Trapped

My family is all together in the country eating pancakes for breakfast, laughing at new jokes, and celebrating a birthday, cake and all, while I'm stuck here in the city with a giant swollen lymph node and having to go to work. Boooo.

An Evolution of Homes

Arlington Now

La Porte '06-'08

La Porte '05

Fort Worth '02-'05

* I don't have pictures of 2 of the places we have lived. Including our very first apartment in Fort Worth and our first townhome in Arlington.

Riff-Raff

Not a whole lot of special things happening around the house the past few days. Currently, its pouring down rain outside, which is fine with me since we have no plans other than tootling around the house doing chores and attempting to make bread that will actually rise this week. The fall plants seem to be doing pretty good. The leafy lettuce is growing long and bright green. There are a few banana peppers popping out, which I believe to be way behind schedule. The tomatoes have several buds flowering, the okra is still producing, and Izzy and I shared a bright red strawberry this morning.

My next door neighbors moved out, which leaves me greatly concerned about what kind of riff-raff might take their place next to the Front Porch Farm. Trust me, the majority of renters in this city are less than model citizens, and their kind seems to be spreading faster than Swine Flu in an elementary school with no soap. I don't have a problem with people from a lower socio-economic group, I have a problem with stupid people: the people that choose to live in filth and ignorance; the ones who continue to have kids while resenting the ones they have; the individuals who believe the wealthy who have worked hard to build that wealth owe them something; the people who denigrate others for getting an education; the parents who are too selfish to take the time to instill moral values in their children or discipline them for that matter. There are the poor and needy who need us to give - then there are the poor and stupid who need us to stop giving so the rule of natural selection can continue thus allowing society as a whole to improve. Basically, I hope I get nice neighbors who don't play music too loud or act like jerks.

Feast or Famine

Our social life is a cycle of feast and famine lately. When we lived in La Porte it was non-stop feast - all day, every day. Those were fun times, but for a couple of introverts from the boonies it was somewhat exhausting. Then we moved away (again) from everyone. No friends, no family, no unexpected visits, no late night discussions over Starbucks and no Sunday lunches at El Ranchero. For the first time in a few years we had quiet. The super express train had stopped, dropped us off in a dust cloud, and then speed off with everyone we knew still on board. It was calm. It was lonely. It was nice. Then came the human embodiment of noise and chaos (a.k.a. Isabel). All of a sudden the train began to make regular stops at our depot again. At first, it was the return of social feast we had known in La Porte with a constant flow of people and a ton of goo-goo, baaa-baa, looooook at the preeeeeety baaaaaaaaabyyyyy, smoochy, smoochy, smoochy (and that was just me). A year and a half later and things have tapered off. Most our time is famine but it is punctuated with random weekending floods of people. It is hilarious to us how things are so quiet then all of a sudden 4 different groups of people call wanting to visit on the same weekend. All that being said, this introvert loves the times of quiet, calm, productive famine, but feast is better. We miss you friends.

Long Lashes

Soft Hands Make Ugly Bread

I just produced the saddest two loaves of bread ever seen. Each loaf stands a mighty 2 inches tall with wrinkly little tops, most likely the result of the not so high quality Kroger brand (el cheapo) yeast I recently purchased with the intention of saving some dough. Next time I will buy the good stuff with the intention of saving some dough. Aside from its hideous exterior, the bread is pretty scrumptious. We just have to make itty-bitty sandwiches this week.

The cold Autumn air left us for the last few days to deal with her crude sweat-stained cousin, Summer, who just continues to linger around like a guest who has far outstayed its welcome. However, this morning Autumn returned and was welcomed with windows opened wide. She was celebrated by a large mug of hot chocolate. The cool breezes brought with them the strange desire to split fire wood. I miss the hard labor of the country life. The labor that imprints its worth on every muscle in a way that is felt at the end of a long day. There are few places on earth better than sitting in the warming glow of a fireplace blazing with wood you cut from a tree then split into usable pieces with your own two hands (an axe helps of course). But until my day of metropolitan exodus comes, I will keep chopping away here watching my hands grow softer.

Instructional Video by Cupcake (Viewers Must be Younger than 2 to Really Appreciate)

Today we have been making fun videos for Isabel starring her favorite toys, puppets and stuffed friends. She thinks they are the funniest things ever made. Her laughs are worth the effort (actually there is not much effort or skill, for that matter, involved). Other than that, today is just an easy day of rest and relaxation. My muscles are loudly voicing their displeasure concerning the previous two days of hard workouts, but fortunately I know the remedy for sore muscles....chocolate chip cookies! Yes, as I type, the cookies are cooling on the kitchen counter awaiting their devouring time. I think that is just what I need for a full recovery - hot cookies and a tall glass of cold milk. But fear not for my getting-back-in-shape plan, tomorrow morning will bring more running...maybe even enough to compensate for the cookies.

Running for Cupcakes

I am fat. Well, not completely fat by typical American standards, but my gravitational pull is definitely increasing. Oh how the mighty have fallen. I used to be a fantastic runner. I was addicted to the rush of it all - the sound of the lonely trail crunching at my feet, the steady rhythm of each long breath and just the clarity that comes with such solitude. I remember waking up feeling the burning need to hit the trail, before breakfast, before school, before saying good morning to a single person. Then the need would hit again in the afternoon, and before I knew it the shirt was off and I was off, in whatever shoes and shorts I was wearing. Direction didn't matter. Time didn't matter. Just running fast and long. 3 miles - a joke; 5 miles - just getting warmed up; 8 miles - a decent run; 10 plus - true runner. Now, lets compare. I still see a trail and something deep inside feels the old rush but the discipline and drive are gone. I woke up this morning with the burning need to eat a chocolate cupcake and this afternoon I will most assuredly be keeping my shirt on as I consider taking off in search of a milkshake. Pathetic. Maybe, just maybe, today will be the day the runner returns, but I'm pretty sure he is not going to magically appear, perhaps some work is involved.

P.S. It is now 3 hours since I wrote the blog, and, hold the applause, I went for a quick 2 mile run. I wish I could say it was a blissful experience....but it wasn't. I feel good I did it, and it felt good for about the first 3 minutes, but after that - pain. Hopefully, tomorrow's will be better.

Fall Has Fallen

The only position for the windows of the car yesterday were down. The northern blast of wind felt so amazing blowing in my face as I drove around the city, which had literally transformed over night. The day before the cold front the high was in the upper 80s, but after, we never took a step beyond 59. Talk about a shock to Summer-hardened Texas skin! I could hear everyone north of the Mason-Dixon Line join in a collective laugh at the Texans walking around bundled tight in coats, gloves and hats. Heck, in North Dakota this is great weather for taking a dip in the pool. It is so funny how after we have acclimated to the brutal summer heat 60 degrees feels so freezing cold, while 60 degrees in February/March has everyone running to the store to buy shorts and beach blankets. Its all relative. I, however, am embracing this, most likely temporary, winter blast with open arms. Every caw of the Autumn crow delivers a smile to my face and sense of comfort I associate with heavy blankets and wintry-gray skies. I say we should all head out for a hayride with hot chocolate and good friends.