a picture from another december morning

love, Val

a somewhat terrible story

A little bit terrible.

Okay, this is the first story, not too terrible.

After church this morning, (yes we did get there,) Jay was about to make sandwiches for the crowd. When he reached into the fridge and grabbed the mayonnaise, whoever had used the mayo before this had not screwed on the lid--not at all. As soon as it came over the shelf, he was holding just the lid, while the jar crashed on the floor, splattering mayonnaise far and wide.

The dogs were delighted to assist in cleaning up this mess.

Good grief.

But this is minor. A prelude, if you will.

Later, a lot of people were here for supper. He heated up a huge pan of turkey we'd had in the freezer since Thanksgiving, peeled potatoes, made stuffing and a salad, just a beautiful meal.

As he took a dish of gravy from the microwave, somehow it slipped out of his hands.

(There was discussion on this--was the gravy too hot? The dish too slippery? Thirty years of construction have taken a toll on the sensitivity of his poor hands, the cold mostly, so was that it? He just didn't feel it properly? It's unclear.)

But here goes the gravy, flying. The dish landed flat, didn't spill, but a geyser of gravy shot up that actually hit the ceiling. And drops flew everywhere, in Heidi's hair, on Dan's shirt, all over the place, including one scalding drop that landed on Jay's FACE and burned him good.

He's got a nasty burn from it! Burned by his own gravy. Who could have guessed an injury like that could even happen? Gravy seems so innocent and wholesome.

Maria fetched him a can of diet Coke from the fridge in the office, and he rolled it over his burn for a few minutes until it felt better, and he's tough, shakes these things off shortly, but that's one ugly little burn.

It looks similar to the incident years ago where a drop of molten solder fell from a pipe and stuck in the whiskers of his mustache and burned a nasty spot.

Well. It could be worse.

This was a lovely weekend, lots of wrapping and a lot of fun. It's almost Christmas and the energy is high around here. Even b.g. was attacking the gifts tonight, smacking the bow off one and tossing it around as Alicia tried to contain him.

THREE MORE DAYS as the kids keep mentioning to me. Think we can stand it? love, Val

and i found this, a pic i don't even remember, so sweet, grubby hands and all

what goes on around here?

Okay. Today was a quiet day, overcast and cold. I worked a while and wandered home, grabbed a cold leftover taco from the fridge and came in here to the computer to read the news.

What's happened in the old world so far today?

I clicked the mouse, so the screen turned on, and suddenly I was looking at a picture of an enormous man in nothing but a towel. He had to be well over 600 pounds. God bless him, I don't even care about that--people are people at every size--but what's he doing on my computer? I don't know him, have never seen his picture before.

Shortly I ran into James in the dining room and asked him if he'd been using the computer. Yeah, for Facebook. I said, "Tell me about the picture of the tremendously fat guy." He had no idea what I meant, and it seemed true. He has a pretty good dumb act, but this was excellent acting.

Okay.

Kari! Lydia!

"Tell me about the picture of the really fat man. It was on my computer and somebody here knows why."

A foolish look came over her face. She rubbed her eyes and stalled.

"It was??? Well. I googled 'World's Fattest Dog.' Did you see the dog? (no.) And then a click came up to 'World's Fattest Cat.'"

Okay, right. But this was a human being.

"Yeah, it was 'World's Fattest Man.'"

I asked, "Did you do any other weird google searches?" She said no.

Julia was close by, and put her hand next to her mouth and in a specially secret voice said, "She googled Cat Cars too! Yeah, some of the cars were AWESOME."

Oh, I'm sure they were. Probably need to check those out and see what the on earth that's about.

I'm thinking we need some kind of blocker, but what kind? I'm stumped. What would block a kid from World's Fattest Dog? Or Cat Cars? Sigh. Should everything be blocked? Ei-yi-yi.

Later on, it was awful quiet so I made a trip upstairs and found kids playing a video game they said is Wii Fit. Like fitness, not a fit like a tantrum. Okay. Wii Tantrum--we would not want that.


Tim was playing and the guy who was him on the screen was running and running and running, and there were other characters on the track. Tim said, "I'm passing you, Mother!"

Passing me? Never. I would never be running like that except in an emergency.

Then he laughed, "There's r.t.'s dad!"

r.t.'s dad? (He runs about as much as I do.)

In a minute he said, "Hi, Grandma!" (My MOTHER? Or are we talking my mother in law? Both equally implausible.)

A guy in a beard was going the other way and Julia said, "How did Dad get all the way around again that fast?"

Turns out they can name all the characters and they did. Everyone we know is running on that track.


Every now and then a message would come up on the screen warning Tim about how the controller might fall out of his pocket. About the third time I asked why they keep mentioning this. The controller is in his HAND. Turns out you can either put the thing in your pocket and jog, which Tim demonstrated, or if you're tired or unambitious, you can just sprawl in a chair and shake the controller.


See, kids is smart. They frighten me a little.

Later Kirsten and I went shopping for the last couple Christmas presents, for her Man-Brothers, as she put it. We went to a swanky suburb south of here, to an indoor mall.

Some lunatic had the idea that we'd want an outdoor mall in this climate, so the mall closer to us is a nightmare. Parking is far, you gotta stomp around in the vicious cold, can't tell where the stores are because there is no map.

I hate it.

At the indoor mall, everyone was so warm and relaxed. And the prices were so shocking. Sixty dollars for a men's dress shirt? Never. Absolutely never.

Sweaters for $125. No. I can get sweaters like this at the thrift store for ten dollars. A tube of bath gel for $15? Please. It should be $15 for a CASE. We ended up at the sale rack at Gap. Boring, predictable, drab Gap. Yep. We are who we are.

Kirsten and I picked up Maria and James from pep band, and we dropped her off. The lights were yellow in the windows of her house, and when the door opened, I could see her roommate laughing in the living room. Christmas lights were on in all the windows as we drove home, including our own candlestick ones in the windows. (Way easier than stringing lights on the eaves two stories up, and maybe even prettier.)

I found Jay in the office bottling his wine next to the heap of gifts I must wrap tomorrow.

Oh yeah, we always knew that plumbing office was good for something.

Peaceful, beautiful Friday. love always, Val

funny little guy

He's here today, getting watched by the fam, and he's too darn cute, striding around, deliberately swinging his little arms, eating kidney beans and pumpkin bread.

It was during the eating of the kidney beans and pumpkin bread we noticed he was struggling to keep his eyes open.


His head would dip and eyes droop shut and then he'd wake himself up and grin at us and snicker a little. After about three times, we hurried to find his bottle and get him out of the high chair before he hit his head.

Couch Potato Grandma lasted all of 30 seconds and he's been sound asleep since.

It's been a long time since we've seen that falling asleep in the high chair bit. I used to do it on purpose to Kirsten when she didn't want to take a nap--fix her something to eat, pull her high chair over the heat vent and turn up the heat. In a little while, she'd be dozing there, slouched to the side.

Okay, time to get some work done. Happy Thursday. love, Val

frosting of the cookies

So we did this tonight, and conversation about this and that veered off in strange directions.

I said when I was 15 I'd been a skinny little mite with a huge mop of hair. I looked like Cousin It. It was real attractive.


The theme song to The Adam's Family was sung, "Da-da-da, snap-snap...." We discussed Uncle Fester with the light bulb, and also The Thing. It was a very festive Christmas-type conversation.

I turned to the kids as I took these photos and said, "Are you having fun?" There was a mumbled answer.

I said, "Hell, YEAH!"

They cheered, "Hell, YEAH!"


Actually, they were just busy. There are seriously a LOT of chocolate chips on all these cookies. It's okay. They'll be eaten.


I have no idea how this conversation developed, but this is another famous Maria quote now:

"You cannot have diarrhea AND a boyfriend at the same time. Diarrhea is too demanding."

What?


I'm so confused.

Oh, gosh. Why?

Merry Christmas. love, Val

the day after

The snowstorm is over, and it's bright, with a high arched sky, brilliant blue like a July afternoon--even though it's 7 degrees out.

Tim worked on an igloo all morning and I'm making chili.

We never made it to church. The streets in the city aren't plowed, so we don't know where we'd park, and clearing the driveway has taken the whole morning. Maybe next week. Maybe they postponed the Christmas Program. We'll find out.

Happy Sunday, peaceful and sunny, love, Val

oh yeah, more baking

We continued baking this evening, sugar cookies.

Tim and Julia wanted to help Kari and me, but at some point, I just couldn't handle it another second.

Julia was touching everything and not taking turns. Tim had the angel cookies pooping on the other cookies. Yeah, that's fun.

(When Little Jay was just about this same age, he thought butts were hilarious--just the funniest darn thing ever. He also found aliens intensely amusing, and believe me, there was absolutely NOTHING MORE HILARIOUS than an alien's butt. Oh, gawd.

Kirsten threatened to punch him in the head one day in the car. This is a no-hitting house, no, no, no. You cannot punch him in the head, but yeah, I totally understand.)

I suggested frosting cookies and sprinkling them would be more Tim and Julia's arena of expertise. The rolling and cutting? Boring. Let Kari and me do it.

Thankfully, they happily ran off.

Kari, aka Lydia wanted to know if angels even do actually poop?

This I do not know. I suggested she ask that question at church. Find Meta or Mark. Ask one of them if you really care to know. They know far more about angels than I do.

Sigh.

But the last of the pans are baking now, and that sweet plumber I married is asleep on the big red couch, waiting for the last of our midnight wanderers to come home.

It's started to snow, but we have slippers and heat, and a very old oven baking cookies.

My mom--this is funny--those blanket with the sleeves, the Snuggie things? She objects. "I have a bathrobe already, and I could wear it backward right now if I wanted to." See, she's smart like that.

Oh, and earlier, I had these dogs all clustered under the breadboard, tripping me as I tried to roll cookies. What the heck? Get out of here, you guys.

Then Kari told me, "They like cooky dough."

Really?

"When have dogs ever even tasted cooky dough to know they like it?"

Busted.

Oh, Lydia, Lydia, Lydia.

Time to check the pans again. Sleep tight. love, Val