Taking Applications

I posted this on Facebook yesterday:

Taking applications for an assistant. Preference given to persons who can always tell me what's on my calendar, return library books before they are due, schedule meetings and Dr. appointments, organize my desk, pack and then unpack my house, pack suitcases for a trip and find me a new car. Anybody, anybody? Pay will be in the form of home cooked dinners. (Tonight's is Indian food and homemade naan if you can start today!) Oh and I just remembered a few more things: wash and fold laundry, sign loan documents, make a birthday cake, chauffeur children, and babysit on occasion.

And since I wrote that I remembered a few other things: hound the renters about paying rent on time, find a vinyl remnant to replace the carpet in the bathrooms of the new house (ick!), clean the windows, etc. of the new house, take pictures for the insurance and call about ALL the address changes, oh and convince the Texas government that since we just received our licenses in the mail a week ago we shouldn't have to pay $20 more dollars to get ones with our new address and wait another six weeks for them to come in the mail. Open until filled...

And if you think I'll just sit around with my feet up while the assistant does all the work, HA! We've started homeschooling and especially since I'm new it takes much of my focus right now. We really really like it though, and Mr. Baseball is a much happier boy. It's not something I had planned on but really felt like it was the right thing to do. I also need to remember that I'm 4 1/2 months pregnant; naps are not a luxury but a necessity! And our family needs to eat. Taco Bell and Little Cesars don't count as food.

Every day in the midst of the busy-ness I think, "Oh! I should post about that on the blog. Maybe tomorrow."

Here's snippet for today:

I peeked into the "cave" where The Monkey was sitting, pretending to be a dinosaur.

"Do you want some books to look at in there?"

"No, dinosaurs don't have books."

long pause

"They have meat! Can you bring me some meat?"

Lubbock: Month two

So, we haven't been posting much. Just busy I guess. School has started and we're getting ready to move into a house and the weather has cooled a bit and between all the must-dos of moving to a new city, things like sitting back and reflecting has not been high on the priority list. In fact, I'm so tired of priority lists, of making huge decisions, of spending obscene amounts of money, and of waiting on people to make decisions that I have no way to influence, that on more than one occasion in the past six weeks I've told the QB--I quit!

Not that I mean that--because I don't really want to quit, but it would be nice for someone else to make the decisions for a while. When life gets stressful as it has these past few weeks (and don't get me wrong, it's gotten better and things are happening, balls are rolling, gears are shifting, shows are getting on the road, if you will) we often wax nostalgic for life when we didn't have to worry about adult decisions like car repair, health insurance, obstetric care, tuition, the neighbors below us that smoke on their porch and make all of our clothes smell--in short, we find ourselves saying things like, "wasn't life great when we were kids and didn't have to worry about ________."

The irony of course is that I remember, as a teenager repeating the inverse: "Won't life be great when we're adults and we can __________."

What's that expression about greener grass?

Life is good. Complicated, but good. Exhibit A.

The pool has been great. Both boys are in love with the water. Mr. Baseball is actually swimming on his own a little, and the monkey will jump in all on his own.


Before school started and the weather got cooler/windier, we were going several times a week.



dress up is a favorite game around here--especially if it involves weapons.



Mr. Baseball has learned how to play chess, and if I leave out a queen, knight, and bishop, we can actually play an interesting game.



More dress up. More weapons. There was a time when we didn't think we would have weapons in our house (foolish, foolish us). What's that expression from Jurassic park? Nature finds a way. Oh well, better plastic swords than vacuum attachments.


At some point a few weeks ago, I came in to wake the monkey from a nap and found him in the rocking chair. He'd moved from his bed at some point after I'd left him to fall asleep.



What do you mean we can't go swimming?



The apartment had a BBQ two weeks ago and Mr. Baseball taught this pinata a lesson. And we won a gift certificate to Texas Road House. Think steak. Think huge portions.

Have you driven a Ford lately?

Have you driven one that has had three engines fail?
That has been in two accidents?
That has been stolen once?
That has driven From Utah to Ohio, and From Ohio to Texas?
That is currently leaking oil like this:



NO? You haven't?
Would you like to?

Since the QB is pregnant, and since the two car seats and four or five hundred pounds of stale cheerios, squished raisins, cracker crumbs, taco bell wrappers, tissues, library books, hot wheels, and spent diapers already in the back seat of the car will make it difficult to fit a third child seat back there, we've decided that we are eventually going to have to find a new car.

But that hasn't stopped us from throwing money into this one like so much lettuce into a Salad-shooter. We paid $170 to the great state of Texas to register the car, which included something like $80 for "Sales tax," even though we bought the car in Utah five years ago. And just last week I took it to the shop to fix the above-mentioned leak, expecting to pay $260 for a new oil pan gasket, and ended up paying for a new valve cover gasket as well, for a grand total of $372.92 And the engine still leaks--from a different spot mind you--but it STILL LEAKS.

After spending all day with the car and replacing two gaskets (which, in the exquisitely designed Ford Escort requires the engine to be lifted entirely out of the car), the mechanic called me up an informed me that while neither gasket was leaking anymore, a new leak had sprung somewhere else, and that he'd never seen anything like it, and that there must be something wrong with the pressure in engine, and that the oil pump must be bad, and that for another $375 (because, well, he'd have to take the engine all apart again) he would be happy to replace the oil pump for us.

After I got done beating my head against the filing cabinet in my office (really), I told him that I would live with the leak and hung up the phone.

So, we're leaking oil at a rate that the Oregonian in me is embarrassed to admit, and we are in the market for a new car. Which means we've got to get rid of this one, somehow.

This is the ad I was thinking of running.

For Sale: 1999 Ford Escort Wgn. Runs great. Low miles on current engine. Experimental lubrication system. Unique interior extras. One of a kind body and frame. Test-driven by industry experts. Interested? Make me an offer?

Or, maybe I could just do this:

The Path to the Waterfall

As promised.. a clip from our road trip

The boys got a piece of candy every 50 miles, and this impromptu dance party happened to coincide with a fifty mile mark, so both boys are chewing on carmels, or something.

Sunday....

We have church at 11:30 a.m.

That means we wake up at 7 a.m. and eat cereal. Then cook waffles at 8:30.

That means we take naps at 9:30.

That means we play Legos and read books and build forts and lie around on the carpet in blankets until 10 a.m.

That means we stay in our pajamas until 10:30.

That means at 10:30 we look at the clock and say, "Shoot, we're still in our pajamas." And we jump in the shower and throw clothes on ourselves and the boys and by 11 a.m. we're sitting at the table and I've got a toothbrush in my mouth and I'm telling the boys to "hurry and eat your spaghetti or we'll be late for church," and the QB is doing her makeup as we pull out of the complex parking lot at 11:20 and by 11:29 we're walking in the double doors of the Chapel and sitting down just as the bishop is standing up to welcome everyone to the meeting.

Oh well, at least we weren't late. And the waffles were good--oatmeal with agave nectar and a little whipped cream.

Line of the day from the pulpit:

"If you care, the Holy Ghost will help you find a way.
If you don't care, you'll find an excuse all by yourself."

A few pictures....

Sunglasses, swords, and pajamas--three summer morning essentials at our house.


This is the chocolate chicken I won in the "chicken dance" contest at the Church party last week.
It's all about bobbing your head and picking up your feet.



Grandpa Franklin was a big hit with the boys. The only problem is that they may have exhausted his supply of Navy stories. He'll have to make up some new ones next time we see him.


The Monkey at a hotel pool in Illinois.



I think I was as tired as I look in this picture. Thanks for your help Grandpa.


Grandma single-handedly unpacked and organized our entire kitchen (and that was after she'd single-handedly packed up and cleaned out our kitchen in Ohio--and I'm sure she left feeling like she hadn't done enough. Silly. Thanks Grandma.
.

The monkey and his house.




This is why we call him the Monkey.