Unhistoric Acts

luv and boba fett

I just love it when married couples want to shout to the world of their everlasting love...when they write sappy poems...and stare into each other's eyes. Don't you?

These two...just couldn't keep their eyes off of each other:
   
No, really. I made them do that. The wife? She just thought it was hilarious. I think she is a private person. She likes to do her staring in private. Maybe she has issues.

And before anyone gets in an uproar about Christmas pictures...I'm not doing them. No time. These few pics were taken as a belated birthday gift. So no pressure since they're free. Right? Right?

   
Oops. I was supposed to crop out his foot. I'll get right on that. Actually, I haven't even scrolled through all of the pics yet...BECAUSE I HAVE NO TIME. But I allowed myself 15 minutes of Photoshop therapy...and now....I'm ready to conquer the world.

I do feel like I might have a future in pumpkin photography.
 
Meet Boba Fett. He's a type of squash.

 
Meet PJ. He's a little boy with a Star Wars obsession.

Sterling made the Boba Fett helmet, of course. What's a parent-child project if the child gets involved? A mess...that's what it is. I tell you what. Some parents might start to fall down on the job by child number four. They may feel they have already decorated 27 pumpkins for fall book reports, and well, quite frankly, they've had enough. Well, we're not that depraved. No siree. We have, however, given up all pretense of involving the child. Sterling make the bulk of Boba Fett one night after Parker went to bed and we were watching tv. (I, personally, was grading in front of the tv.) We let Parker paint on the scuffs...yes, those are supposed to be there. It's a battle helmet for goodness sakes. Just in case you are wondering Sterling dampened a piece of green cardstock, wrapped it around a metal bowl, and put it in the oven to get the domed effect. Heck, it's not just an effect...it's really a dome. For Parker's part, he had to present the book title, author, character, and summary...all without any notes whatsoever. He reported that he did fabulously. I'll take his word for it. (Oh. Don't tell Parker's teacher that his dad made his project. I'm sure she is completely snowed that Parker made this all by his little lonesome.)

By all accounts, we are officially done with the pumpkin book report project. It's a second grade thing and this boy is the last of our second graders. Next year we should be home free...no paper turkey...no Star Wars pumpkin...what will we do with ourselves?

i do declare...that pigs are flyin'

Gas (well, E85) is $1.69/gallon. Can you believe it? When I pulled up to the gas station my mind started racing with the financial implications...I could run errands without it costing me $45 in gas JUST TO RUN THE ERRANDS. I could fill up my tank for under $50??!!?? It would only cost me about $20 to drive to College Station and back. Then I filled up my mini cooper little truck and it cost $28.

TWENTY-EIGHT DOLLARS!!

I love TWENTY-EIGHT DOLLARS.

wOW. My life is exciting.

In other news...

I had to go to this "special presentation" today. I won't give a lot of specifics, but let's just say that it was an academic presentation and one of the main presenters had a rather large nose, complete with two large nostrils.

And the ENTIRE time he was speaking, and after he was speaking, and even as he was bidding our group farewell, and as we thanked him....he had an enormous BOOGER hanging out of his nose. No lie. I feel that it was encumbent upon his co-presenter to inform him of the booger. Certainly those of us who were there as guests couldn't point out the humongous booger. That would be rude. And since his co-presenter seemed oblivious to the three-foot booger, nothing was done. And I had to work very hard not to get giggly. Very hard. But I was successful. Although I'm fairly sure that I damaged some vital internal organs in the supression of said giggles.

And then I came home and listened to Parker's Star Wars book report, which includes the definition of a bounty hunter, equipment carried by the bounty hunter, and both clientele and prey of the bounty hunter. AND to top off all of this fabulous information, this book report needs to be a likeness of the bounty hunter (aka Boba Fett) as inscribed upon a small pumpkin. Pictures will be forthcoming.

Tomorrow: gearing up for Halloween. I'm making popcorn balls!!

this will make you cry...

I'm not sure how many of you have already heard of the story of Stephanie and Christian Nielson. I've actually been following their progress for a couple of months, but I realize that many of you might not spend as much time in blogland as I do (and good for you). This young mother, Stephanie, hosted a blog called the NieNie Dialogues...a young stay-at-home mom of four children, documenting her daily experiences. Then, about two months ago, she was on a private plane with her husband (who had recently finished his pilot's training) when they crashed shortly after take off. Her husband was burned on over 35% of his body, but poor, sweet Stephanie sustained burns on over 80% of her body. Her family rushed down from Provo; her sister's took their four children back to their own homes for an indefinite period of time; and I have watched, holding my breath, as her sister, Courtney has documented their struggle.

There are so many positives to this tragedy. More than 50,000 people now visit Stephanie's blog each day (her sisters are reposting reader favorites) and there has been a grassroots movement to raise money for the couple's recovery.

But still, Stephanie has been in a chemically-induced coma for two months while she has had innumerable skin graft surgeries. No one is still quite sure what the prognosis is for her, although miraculously it does seem she will survive. And now she is waking up, and everyone is hoping for the best in her new life.

Anyway, thought you might want to follow along...it's an incredible story really. This article published recently in the Arizona Republic gives you the full story. You can read about Stephanie's continued progress on her sister's blog here. And, when you have some time, you can get to know Stephanie on here blog here. She is a magical person.

hmmm...where to begin

 
I think I've composed maybe 25 posts in my head over the last few days. But unable to actually sit down and pound them out...they've all gone to that ever-increasing, unrecoverable black hole in my mind...right along with where I last put down my keys and any number of the girls' orthodontic appointments.

On Fridays (when I don't have school) I like to try to do something that makes me feel normal, like bake. I got it into my head that I would make the above featured pumpkin bars from none other than Joy the Baker. She has a number of festive fall recipes on her blog right now, and her picture of the pumpkin bars looks far more appetizing than mine (which looks suspiciously like mud). But these tasted fantastic. AND, cut me some slack, I'm short on time for resurrecting pumpkin bar pictures. I'm not sure why baking makes me feel like a normal person, because I'm positive that LOTS of normal people do not bake. I guess it would be more accurate to say that it was at least a normal activity of mine in my period BS (before school).

 
I now have conclusive evidence that taking care of kids is FAR harder than working outside of the home. I know this because, in the course of my school work, I often have to do quite stressful things...like present my work in front of roomfuls of very smart people, or teach a class with the director of writing programs taking notes in the back, or turn in a seminar paper to someone who publishes essays in the back of norton scholarly editions on the same author. And still, none of this gets me worked up like an afternoon of TRYING to get four kids to a zillion activities. Yesterday afternoon,I ran from Learning Express to two birthday parties, picked up a new helmet for Parker (since he keeps crashing on his bike--and he cried all the way home BECAUSE of the helmet). Checked in with Jordan , who luckily got picked up for the football game...and for some reason, unbeknownst even to me...I WAS COMPLETELY STRESSED OUT. Not sure why. But moving bodies and procuring supplies is not my strong point, OBVIOUSLY.

 But then, while we were hanging at home for a few minutes before heading out for dinner there was the melodic ding-dong of the UPS person.
 
And my sweet SIL Debbie had sent me this delightful box with CANDY CORN COOKIES inside. For no reason. Just to be nice. WOW! It totally made my day. Thanks Deb!!

wherein my bff, antihistimine, fails me...

I've felt "off" for a few days now...not quite myself...somewhat dragging. So, yesterday when the mucus started pouring forth out of my head like lava from a live volcano, I hastened myself to my tried and true remedy of Dayquil (for the day) and Nyquil (for the night). Many a time has such a combination kept me functioning (on a basic level) during times of high mucus output. Alas, today, my bff Dayquil failed me miserably. Finally, during my three hour seminar, when I could barely hear (because my ears were plugged), barely breathe (because my nasal membranes were swollen to elephantine proportions), and barely think...because my brain is also somehow affected...I rose from my seat, admitted defeat, and drug my sorry self the 70 miles back to my bed.

And my sweet husband? Picked up Madison for me (in the middle of working) and also must have swung by somewhere and picked up poster board for Jordan...cuz when I woke from my "nap" four pristine white pieces of poster board were on the dining room table. Like magic.

I had enough energy to pop some baked potatoes into the oven and the girls micro'ed some bacon and got all the fixins' together (which includes broccoli...since that makes it healthy). We've somehow gotten into the habit of having baked potatoes and watching Jon & Kate, which is a real treat since tv is normally not allowed on a week night. So, things are buzzin' around here...all rebellious-like...what with POTATOES and JOHN AND KATE...it's a regular den of iniquity.

And the best thing I've done all week? Bought The Last Chronicle of Barset on itunes. It's an 800 page book and I had fallen woefully behind in my reading. I got to about page 400 and realized I was never going to make it. But now I'm logging in 2 1/2 - 3 hours a day... WHILE DRIVING...and such multi-tasking gives me a high that is hard to explain. When I get into my car, plug in my iphone, and start listening it's like I've figured out the deepest, darkest mystery of the universe...HOW TO CREATE TIME.

I'm thinking about calling Oprah on this one.

homecoming '08

And so begins our foray into the high school dance. Jordan was blissfully (for us anyway) uninterested in the junior high dance...and really, how great is a junior high dance? I wouldn't know. I don't believe I've ever attended one. And high school dances, for that matter, are in no way numbered among the most pleasant moments of my existence. Sure there was the hype, the hoping for the perfect date, the dress, but for me it was pretty much all downhill from there. The dress was itchy. The heels were often painful. And getting down was never all that easy in one of those taffeta numbers. Not that I was much into getting down. That's embarassing. Gosh.

We don't allow our kids to date until they are 16. So when Jordan told us that a group of girls were getting together to go to Homecoming, I was all for it. I was trying to empower her. They don't need guys to legitimate their good time, says me. Not that guys hurt the good time, but no need to waste your life waiting on some guy...could be a long wait. Some guys did make their way into the group, and that was fine too.

The day of the dance Jordan wanted to have her eyebrows waxed (ouch) and her hair cut. Me, being completely inept with hair, offered to have the hair cutter (Duc) style her hair as well. Great. Now no one has to worry about her hair. Except that she left the hair place in near tears. Okay, real tears. She had them curl it, and really, she's just not a curly-headed gal. So she came home and washed and blow-dried herself and we chalked up that money to live and learn. Oh well. Last week we ran out of gas...this week...poor hair choices. And when I type it all out like that...it makes me want to STICK A SCREWDRIVER IN MY EAR.    

But, then again, this post isn't about me; it's about my darling little homecoming girl.
   

And her straight hair.

   
Here's a few of the girls at the beginning of the night.

 
And here's the whole group. Sterling and I (and a few other parents) drove the group to Macaroni Grill for dinner. No, we weren't invited in. We were ALLOWED to hang out at the mall until we were summoned for pickup. Then, we drove them to the dance. Then, I went home and to bed and Sterling was on cell duty...waiting for the final call to retrieve them from the school.

All went well. They danced to rap music. They ate pasta. They lived the dream. (i hate it when I get sappy and cliche-ish).

chilly willy

   
Every year our street wraps our tree trunks with orange lights.

   
My mom gave me these four little pumpkins years ago. Everyone is shocked that they are still whole and not orange clay shards stashed in my sweaty attic. Everyone includes me.

 
This cool orange wreath (vintage Target) somehow invites a trail of orange and yellow balls through my entry and into the sun room. I sometimes pretend that's part of the decor so that I won't have to clean them up.

The temperature dipped a bit today. It was a bright overcast day...the kind where I put my sunglasses on, then take them off because everything seems so dark, then put them back on because the glare is hurting my eyes.

I was shivering a bit while I walked across campus. Goosebumps on my arms. My toes tingled in the wind.

I am so, so happy to see even the slightest hint of Fall.

I'm not sure why.

more luck for me!

Probably about 5 years ago my friend Carrie and I were heavily involved in getting rid of our post-maternity bodies. We knew that greatness (meaning slimness) was somewhere within us, and we were desperate to find it. We were exercising machines...we ran, did step aerobics, and generally tortured ourselves. Not too far into this process we decided we needed heart rate monitors. We started looking around but hadn't really committed to anything until...

One day, as we were wasting time on the phone, Carrie says to me, "I have good news for you."

"Oh goody. I love good news for me."

"I found a heart rate monitor on clearance at Target today. I bought it for myself...but there was only one."

"Ummm...exactly how is this good news for me?"

Cuz really, her good find affected my life in no way WHATSOEVER. Not that I wasn't happy for her...but I wouldn't chalk up her personal shopping among my own lucky occurrences.

Many friends would keep their traps shut and let their friend enjoy the moment.

But not me. I thrive on opening my trap...to sometimes extensive proportions...and surprisingly, Carrie is still my friend. I should probably buy her something.

So now...whenever we want to share something with each other, we might just say, "I have good news FOR ME."

Here's some luck for ME.

After teaching my class today, I was hauling myself back to the English building (actually, it was more like I was swimming back...because it was so, so humid and gross). Anway, I saw two fellow classmates from my gender theory class heading away from the building. I thought they were skipping class. I was about to yell at them, something really mean like...

"TAKE ME WITH YOU!"

But even without me screaming like a mad woman, they saw me, and told me class was canceled. I then kissed them both full on the mouth and made my merry way to my car. (okay, really...no kissing was involved.) I ran into a few other students who were somewhat confused and dismayed by the last minute cancellation. To this ridiculous attitude I replied:

"It's like a giant gift. The gift of time. Take it and run. Run far, far away."

They gave me weird looks.

And, to top off this fortuitous circumstance, my class for tomorrow is somewhat canceled because our professor is at a conference. Instead of class we are having an online discussion. I've invited a fellow classmate/commuter who lives nearby to come over. I intend to watch tv while intermittently yelling back things for her to type for me. That way it looks like I'm on task, but I'm really watching Desperate Housewives.

See? I'm really making this who graduate experience work for me.

luck...some good...some bad

 
This picture really has nothing to do with my luck this weekend. I just think it is festive to mix in a few shrunken skulls with autumnal gourds. And I like the word autumnal. That pretty much sums it up.

This weekend has been a regular festival of luck...both good and bad. Let's start with the good, shall we?

Shopping. Jordan and I (and Jordan's friend Rachel) set off Saturday in search of a homecoming dress. Jordan HATES to shop, which is why I suggested bringing Rachel...it was a defensive strategy. But as much as she hates to shop, she still wanted a dress. We went to Dillard's first. Understanding Jordan's intense difficulty with shopping I was already steeling myself for problems...number one problem being we might  NOT FIND A DRESS AT ALL. So, while I had committed to Sterling to keep the dress (and shoes) under $200, I wasn't setting any hard and fast rules. We slowly made our way through the semi-formal section...it was pretty picked over. Uh oh. I picked up about eight dresses and firmly committed Jordan to trying them on. I told her I would leave final selection to her. When she was done she had narrowed the pile down to two dresses...both of which she liked. At this point I looked at the price tags. One was $90 and the other was missing the price tag. Oh well.

She picked the dress without the price tag.

We took the dress to the register and I gently inquired as to the price. The saleslady typed about 7,000 different characters into her register and then looked up at me and said $17.83.

Um.

We'll take it.

Then we high fived and laughed and walked out of Dillard's NOT BELIEVING OUR GOOD FORTUNE.

Sterling was highly impressed with my shopping skills. But, as you can see, I did nothing. I was pure luck.

More good luck: Parker scored a goal at his soccer game. Near the end of the game he came tearing down the side of the field (the side we were sitting on no less). He was running fast. The other team was inches away from him. It all moved so quickly I can't even tell you how it happened, but the ball moved from his foot to the inside of that glorious, netted goal. You might have thought Parker would have whooped it up. Pumped his fists. Smiled. But no, he just kept a straight face and jogged back to the middle of the field. But I knew that he was screaming inside.

Okay, time for the bad. Prepare yourself.

First of all. I washed a Pull-Up. In the washing machine. I've done this once before and it is a collossal mess. I did it again. Again, it was a collossal mess. [not at all certain I'm spelling collosal correctly.]

But here's the really bad luck.

I misread the e-mail that said mid-semester grades were due TODAY, Monday, at 9:00 AM. I thought they were due at 5:00, and I planned on turning them in when I went up for class. Because, you see, I needed to finish grading a number of papers. But no, it was 9:00. Sterling graciously offered to drive up with me yesterday (and all the kiddos) to drop of the grades and then stop by my brother's to check out his new digs. We did all of that. We were low on gas.

Yep, we RAN OUT OF GAS. On the highway. With nary a gas station anywhere for about ten miles. This was one GIANT BUMMER. To be truthful, the gas light had just come on. But as we drove back (much later) we realized we had actually driven quite a way with the light on. Neither of us were paying attention. We just figured we'd get gas in Navasota. So, my kind little brother, Luke, drove up and rescued us. He brought a two gallon gas can...and we put the gas in...and the car still wouldn't start.

Hmmmm.

We tried jumping the car. We knew the battery was fine, but we were running out of options and figured we'd try anything. Luke and I made one last run into town thinking maybe the two gallons just weren't enough to satisfy the brute. Sure enough...after another two...the greedy monster started up. I think the kids were sitting on the side of the road for about an hour. The only saving grace was the number of Nintendo DS's, and ipods, and iphones, and itouches they had brought along with them.

Now. You might say, "That wasn't bad luck, just bad judgment."

And really, I'd have to agree with you. But I'm working on a theme here.

And since you read so patiently, here's one more picture:
 
I bought these canvases about two weeks ago and they have been sitting on the counter ever since. Sterling was completely baffled when I showed them to him. He thought they were weird. But I like them. So I hung them up myself today. I thought it was pretty lucky that I got them up all straight...until I took the picture and realized they weren't as straight as I'd imagined in my mind. Oh well. A few more holes will fix that right up.

thursday random

Some good things happening here today at Thursday random:

• I had a good class today (teaching, that is). It was non-stressful at least.

• I met with one of my favorite professors and ran a few ideas past her regarding my future studies  (ie my dissertation committee).
• The weather is BEEEUUUTTTIFUL. (I do know how to spell beautiful (see?) so save your superiority complex for later in the post. I wrote it how I want you to read it.)
• Right now, at this very moment, Sterling is at 8th grade curriculum night. That man has now attended all four curriculum nights this year. He IS THE BEST EVAH! The first two curriculum nights were on Monday evenings...when I'm in class. And then he just took it upon himself to attend the last two. He kept up with the dates and times and everything. I'm not sure he comprehends just how many bonus points this earns him. Many, many bonus points.
• Star Student Poster. For those of you with kids at my elementary school, you may know the fear and anxiety that those words strike in my heart. You may understand how my stomach falls when I see my kid descend the bus stairs with the blank Star Student Poster in hand. For you non-initiated...EVERY YEAR the kids put together this poster. It's the same every year -- picture of them, picture of their family, picture of their house, picture of their pet, list of favorite things, list of things they're good at, list of things they want to be when they grow up. We've used the same house picture for the past four years running, which is fine because IT'S THE SAME HOUSE. But the bushes? In the picture they are little, tiny babies...and now they are all grown up. I'm so proud. So--today was the fateful day to complete BOTH Becca and Parker's posters. Becca and I sat down at the computer to decide on pictures. I had Parker's picked out and printed in a flash. Becca on the other hand wanted to be VERY DELIBERATE. It was, you see, her VERY LAST star student poster, so it needed to be VERY SPECIAL. I pulled up folder after folder of pictures, some really very good (if I do say so myself). But no, none of them would do. What could I do but whip out the camera and start from scratch? Here's what she finally decided on:

   

And here's her "pet" picture:
 

After all of the pictures were printed out and trimmed and glue-sticked to the posters, Becca and Parker began filling out their favorite things, and things they are good at, etc. Becca's is colorful and organized. Parker's started out that way, but he wanted to "sketch" some things, and proceeded to draw large stars and arrows and shapes all around my beautiful pictures. And then he decided to color in certain areas...some of these areas with crayons and some with just his pencil lead. I paced around the kitchen trying to focus on getting the counters wiped down. I wanted nothing more than to run over to the table and give him some "direction," which, roughly translated, means "keep him from mucking up my nice poster." But I didn't. Because it is his poster after all. And he was proud of his work. And I KNOW I should allow him to be seven and free from inhibitions about pencil-lead coloring. But it's just really, really hard. SNIFF.