My Feet On Higher Ground

Hi all!

So, my family and I were driving around Sequoia on the first day of camping when my husband points out that huge rock, pictured above. 

He says, "Look at that up there!"

"Uhguhmmm." I mumble through my mouth full of Cheez-Its.  

He says, "There's a building on top.  I wonder if you can get up there?"

"Uhguhmm."  

I'm not paying a lot of attention because first of all, I can't even make out a building on top of that distant boulder.  Second, I'm positive that even if there is a building up there, there's no way normal civilians such as ourselves would be allowed up. Third, I didn't think my husband would actually research it.  

But there is, they do, and he did.  

Guess what we did the next day? 

Doesn't look so high from the backside, but wait till you get a load of the trip up:

It was one:

Two:

Three, four, five

very high flights up (and what's that door doing there, anyway?). 

When we got to the top, it looked like this:

Did your stomach just flip flop?   

Judging from the way my kids are plastered to the side of the building, I'm pretty sure their stomachs were down around their ankles too.  

We're really big fans of solid ground.  

You all have a good night! 

Aw, Hell! Hail!

Hi everyone!

I want to start off by saying THANK YOU and hello to everyone who's come and checked out the blog.  I know I sound like a broken record, but I do truly love that my friends are reading what I write.  (By the way, shouldn't that expression become obsolete, just like records themselves?  My kids have no true understanding of what I mean when I say things like "I'm tired of sounding like a broken record!").
Anyway, I love that you guys are reading me.  Thank you!

So, let's get back to vacation.

After getting into Sequoia, we dropped 9 off at Hume Lake for his week o'fun and then headed back up the mountain to our campground.  We drove with the windows down to enjoy the mountain breeze (which felt like heaven compared to the stifling 100+ temps out here in the desert).  The 70 degree weather was perfect for setting up camp.  Until I noticed that the temperature had started to drop.

So I put on a jacket.

Then clouds rolled in and it dropped some more.

So I changed into pants.

Then it started thundering.

So I made all the kids stop playing and put on their jackets.

Then I noticed that I could see my breath coming out in little puffs.

So I dug out the luggage and fished around for our hats and gloves.

We put them on in time for it to rain.

So I herded the children into the tent (and I mean that I literally herded them, as the rain had excited them into such a state that they were all running around like it was the Second Coming of Christ).

We sat in the tent and listened to the plip- plop of raindrops.

It was nice.

Until the plip plops turned into dull ping ping pings.....


and we realized our tent was being pummeled by hail.  Little tiny frozen ice balls were gathering all over the ground.  It was 32 degrees.  In August.


Here's a pic that Mr. C snapped of us while we were waiting out the hail storm. 

And here's a pic I snapped of Mr. C while we were waiting out the hail storm.  

Of course, the whole time I was thinking about what the brochure had said about lightening and was planning out what to do if I saw any of my kids' hair start to rise up (a sign that lightening is about to hit. If nothing else, that damn article taught me some useful facts about the great outdoors).

In the end though, it wasn't a bad experience- the freezing in a tent together while listening to the ice balls fall all around us.  I made up some good scary stories starring my kids.  They were scared just enough to be thrilled.  PG even told me that it was her favorite part of the whole trip.  And the hail/rain storm passed over in about 45 minutes, so I could at least cook dinner while staying dry, though it was so cold that I couldn't feel my hands.  Wah.

By the way, that's something else I learned about myself on this trip.  I really hate to be cold.  I may come back in my next life as a lizard, just so I can sit around on a rock all day and let the sunshine warm my skin, my bones, my body.

In fact, I think I may still be thawing out, along with Roo.

Sorry.  That picture has nothing to do with anything really.  I'm just blatantly plugging a cute pic of my kid.  I can't help it.  It's her cheeks.  They're the end of me.

You all have a good night!

Mountain Mama

Hey all!

We're back!  I'm back!  And MAN I have missed the internet- by probably more than what I think is a healthy amount.  Before we left I had grand plans to sit by the campfire under the stars with Mr. C's laptop and write posts every night.  Then we got there and was surprised by three things: a) there are still places on this planet where the internet is not within reach, b) I was in one of those places, and c) I'm a fool for not believing Mr. C when he warned me that I wouldn't have internet access for 6 days.

I think I was in denial.

So although I couldn't sit and write posts to you all every night, I did almost constantly write mental posts as we were going about our days.  I think that stands as testament to how much I love this blog.  Furthermore, the fact that I can even remember what my mental posts were, stands as a testament to the fact that I haven't lost as much intellectual acuity as I thought.

At any rate, I'm planning on inundating you all with vacation posts this week.  I have at least 3 or 4 posts floating around in my head as we speak.

Anyway.  Our vacation.  Let's talk about it.

I've been on camping trips my whole life.  My parents have a picture of me sitting in my playpen on a camping trip when I was less than 1.  I've always liked it, and have never had a problem with sleeping in a tent or getting a little dirty.  In fact, it kind of bugs me when I talk to people who refuse to even try it because of the outdoors/tent factor.   I always feel like they come off as a little snooty and close minded.  I mean, at least try it before you tell me you don't like it.

However.

I have learned since joining the ranks of parenthood that there is camping, and then there is camping with kids.  

Here's what camping was like for me and Mr. C in 2001, BC (Before Children)

-We pack up the truck in an hour and hit the road.  He drives while I read the latest issue of Cosmo and force him to take inane quizzes.
-Upon arriving, if we get a brochure or reading material from the Ranger, I look it over quickly and then toss it aside as fuel for that night's campfire.
-We arrive at camp, pop open a couple of beers and set up.
-If it rains? We have a tent. (wink wink)
-If there are bears?  Bears, schmears.  Besides, my heart thrills at the thought of Mr. C protecting me from bears.

Now here's what camping is for us in 2010, AC (After Children).

-We have a mini van and the process of packing it begins a full 2 days before departure.
- Instead of a mere trashy magazine, it now takes 2 backpacks stuffed with snacks, video games, coloring books, reading books, and action figurines to make the drive up bearable.  Plus, there's a DVD player that's rigged up between the seats to save us when all else fails.
-Setting up camp with the kids "help" almost requires a Xanax.
-If it rains (and it did- that's one of the posts I have floating around in my head), we have to crowd in a tent and find ways to entertain the kids until it's over.


And the bears?  I'll talk to you about the bears in just a minute.  First, I want to show you the reading material the Ranger handed me on our way into the park.   The uplifting title of the article I'm about to show you is "YOU are responsible for your OWN safety!"  And if I could, I'd insert the music from the Psycho shower scene right here for effect.  Feel free to let your own imagination oblige:

!!!!

!!!!

!!!!

!!!

THE PLAGUE???? COUGARS????  WEST NILE VIRUS? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

So much for relaxing.  Friends, I have a big imagination and you could only imagine the horrifying scenarios that played themselves out in my mind after reading that article.  It was seriously enough to fill up a couple of episodes of Tales From the Crypt.   My whole objective for the week became all about protecting my babies from the danger lurking...... well, everywhere, apparently.

And don't even get me started on the bears.  The next page of the newspaper went into detail about how all traces of food needed to go into the bear lockers overnight.  All traces!  Car seats should not be left in cars, lest they contain food or juice. And lastly, all cosmetics and toiletries should be locked inside a bear locker as well, since bears have apparently developed a taste for toothpaste and flavored lip gloss.

I kid you not.

Then, to make all this worse, my BFF called me the night before we were going to leave and relayed this news story to me out of Yellowstone:  A Grizzly Bear, for reasons unprovoked, tore into 3 separate tents in one night and dragged out the campers and mauled them to death.

Lovely.  I'm trying to think back to what horrible thing I must have done for her to exact such terrible revenge on me.  Did I borrow a shirt back in the 90's and not return it?  Shoes?  Boyfriend? Nothing's coming to mind.  Char, if you're reading this, you're on thin ice girl.

Anyway.  The whole bear thing really freaked me out, which irritated Mr. C, which in turn irritated me.  I mean, come on, is it really so cowardly to demand that a frying pan and spatula be kept in the tent where we sleep?  I am protecting our children's lives, for goodness sake!  Right?

Needless to say, I no longer harbor lusty thoughts about Mr. C bravely protecting me from scary forest creatures.  I'm too busy trying to figure out how I'm going to do damage to a bear with my meager supply of cookware.

However, we made it through the week all intact (more or less).  And like I said earlier, there's much more for me to write.  At this moment however, I have one more mountain to tackle.

Here it is:

Laundry.  You all can send your letters of condolence now.

Have a good night!

So Long, Farewell, Pray For Me

Going.

Going.

Gone.

Camping. 

6 days. 

Small children. 

That's all I can manage to write at the moment.  

Because the long long list of things I accomplished today is truly impressive.

Because I did it all on 4 hours sleep.

Because my brain is fried. 

Because I still have to shower and pack toiletries. 

Because we're getting up at 4:30 a.m. to go camping. 

For 6 days. 

With small children. 

(Did I say that already?)

I'll write all about it on the road- providing I get a WiFi connection in the wilderness. 

And bears don't eat me. 

You all have a good night! 

Finger Food Friday: B.L.E. T's (aka Bacon Lettuce Egg Tacos)

I suppose I could have titled this post "FFFF: Finally Finger Food Friday", since it has been forever since I last posted one.  However, if I did that, I'm not sure anything could stop me from next week calling it "Flippin' Finger Food Friday".

The double meaning is not lost on me.

I always like FFF after I get the posts up, but gosh darn dang!  Sometimes it's a huge pain in my kettle chip A to cook dinner AND take pictures AND fend off the little children who are always lurking about asking a million questions about what we're having and when it'll be ready and if they can have this instead of that.

However, I am DOING this.  My game face is on. By the way, Ann, this is for you.  I asked, you answered.  I love that I can always count on you and your comments.  I mean it.  Thanks, girl!

So.  This week we had BLE T's -which, if you pronounce it phonetically, comes out Belly Tease.
(Just thought I'd point that out.  It's not all that relevant.)

BLE T's are more or less my own recipe.  I guess you could file them under "Breakfast Dinner", but I don't.  We ate egg tacos all the time growing up, and instead of being a breakfast dinner, it was more like "mom and dad are trying to save money again so we're eating eggs instead of beef inside our tacos" dinner.  I hated scrambled eggs when I was a kid, so I was never happy when these were served up.  As an adult though, I learned that I could throw some bacon on there and have something equivalent to a breakfast burrito.  Thus a yummy dinner creation was born.

Okay.  Here's what you need to do first.

Get yourself a nice soft stack of corn tortillas and some vegetable oil.  (Never use olive oil.  Something funky happens and the tortillas start foaming.)

Serious.  It happened to me. Freaked me out.

Anyway, next you cook up the taco shells.  I'm going to tell you how to do it the way my 7th grade Home Ec teacher, Mrs. Rogers, taught me.

Can I birdwalk a little here?

Mrs. Rogers was a bit of a kook, although it wasn't until my adult years that I realized she must've been a little unbalanced.  Who else would tell 7th graders stories about a group of girls who double dipped their fingers into the batch of pudding they were making, threw it in the fridge to let it set, and when they pulled it out.......THE SALIVA FROM THEIR FINGERS HAD STARTED THE DIGESTIVE PROCESS INSIDE THE PUDDING?????  WHAAAAAAT?  This story is seared into my brain.  I can't forget it.  To this day, homemade pudding makes me gag.

Thanks for letting me birdwalk and traumatize you with safety/horror stories from my 7th grade home ec teacher.

Let's get back to business.

Okay.  Next you fill the skillet with a quarter inch of vegetable oil.  Get it nice and hot.  Then you drop in the tortilla.

By the way, never ever in a million years let a drop of oil fall onto the floor.  Some poor 7th grader back in the late 70's or early 80's made this fatal mistake and Mrs. Rogers slipped and forever injured her hip.  The gravity of this unfortunate event was carried on the shoulders of 7th graders for generations to come.  

I really think she hated us.

Dip both sides in the oil and let it fry until it looses some flexibility.  

Then bend it in half and hold it with the tongs.

Flip it and fry the other side. 

 Then drain on a paper towel covered plate.  (sorry, forgot to take a picture of that!)

Chop up all the toppings you're going to put on your tacos- in our house we do the basics: lettuce, tomato, cheese, sour cream, and hot sauce. 

Now for the bacon.  

You all don't need pictures for how to cook bacon.  Everyone has their preferred method: fry, bake, broil, microwave, bbq.  I do have to share with you though:  I tried the precooked bacon that they sell in boxes in the deli aisle for the first time tonight.  The reason I did this is because I can't stand how my house smells like bacon for an entire day after I cook it.  I think I've talked about this before..... remember?  I set my backyard on fire trying to grill it?  

So I thought buying it precooked would help with the smell factor.  It did.  But...... well......, let me show you a picture of what it looked like. 

Not bad, but not great.  I prefer the home cooked bacon is all I'm saying.  Smelliness aside. 

Okay, chop up your bacon and set out your toppings. 

I'm not about to tell you how to scramble eggs.  You all know.  I'll just sit here quiet as a mouse and let the pictures do the talking. 

Pssst- it's me.  Sorry to interrupt.  I just wanted to explain that my mom taught me to throw in a tablespoon of milk or cream when scrambling eggs.  It makes them fluffier.   

Okay, just wanted to let you know.  I'll let you get back to the pictures now. 

There I go resting a metal spoon inside a hot skillet.  Again.  What a dummy. 

 Okay!  It's time to ring the dinner bell and assemble your belly tease.  I mean BLE T's. 

Here's what they look like:

Yum!

Okay.  There it is- a really long post when I could've just said: "Make tacos- substitute scrambled eggs for beef and throw some bacon on top."

But this was much more fun for me.  Thanks for hanging in there.

  

One last thing- my side dish.  Technically, it doesn't belong on FFF because it requires a fork, but I'm going to share it with you anyway.  

Zucchini, red onion, garlic, olive oil, salt, and pepper.  The kids didn't like it, but there are some days when I can handle not serving up a vegetable side dish and today was not one of them.  I remain relentless in my quest to make my children like vegetables.  I will prevail, I tell you!  

And oh yeah.  The family reaction.  My camera was loosing battery, so I only had time to shoot one quick shot.

J and his "halfway" thumbs.  Stinker.  Also, notice Roo is not in her high chair.  She refuses to sit there anymore.  It's the end of an era in our household.  Bye bye baby chair.  Sniff sniff.

Kidding.  I'm not really that sad about it.  I'm just going to have the chair bronzed and fit with a commemorative plaque.  No biggie.

You all have a good night.





 

Family Album

I have nothing to write about tonight. Nothing. Yet I feel like I should get something down on paper- er, screen.

Whatev.

Anyway. I read somewhere that "I had nothing to write about" is never an excuse to get out of writing. One is supposed to dig deep and use whatever objects, memories, or people are nearby for material. All that seems a little more than my mind can take on right now, BUT to my right here on the computer screen is our family's iPhoto album. So, you know when that obnoxious work colleague sends you an online album every two weeks of his lame family vacation or his great aunt's birthday party and you have to look at it because you know his feelings will be hurt if you don't? That's what I'm about to do to you right now.

Let's get this party started.

Picture #1: 9

Mr. C took this when he, PG, and 9 were vacationing in New Mexico a couple of years ago. There is so much I like about this picture: the composition, the mood, PG in the background. Mostly though, I love the way that 9 is looking into the camera. He's pretty photogenic, so even when he's not smiling you can get a good shot of him. I love the pensive look on him. It fits the quieter side of his personality to a T.

Pictures #2 & 3: Princess G

Alright. This one was a toss up. I couldn't decide if I wanted to go with the best picture of her, or the best picture of a moment with her. I decided to go with both. You'll see why.

Here's (what I think) is the best picture of her we've ever taken:

Isn't that beautiful? I love that my husband is a photographer. I wouldn'tve known what to do with that light, but he adjusted settings, Fstops, apertures, blah blah yadda yadda and this is what came out.

It was also taken in New Mexico while I was home with a 10 month old J. I don't think her hair had been brushed in 5 days and Mr. C told me that right after he snapped that photo he discovered she had peed her pants. Fortunately, none of that shows up in the shot. She just looks like a ray of sunshine. A ray of sunshine with pee dripping down her leg.

Here's my other favorite pic of her:

We were at the pumpkin patch and this was her first pony ride. What I love about this is her direct gaze into the cowboy's eyes. She was cold and tired, but as soon as we put her on that pony, she transformed into a perfect little cowgirl.

This pic makes me want to move to a cattle ranch.

I really think I've been reading too much Pioneer Woman.

Moving on.

Here's J's pic. Number 4:

J in his rocker phase. For a while he carried that guitar around with him all over the house. We had high hopes that we were raising the next Jimi Hendrix. We started playing Zepplin and Stevie Ray Vaughn all the time just to influence him. It worked for a while. We even spiked his hair like Billy Idol and taught him to sing "White Wedding". Alas, his big brother started giving him all of his old Pokemon cards and so a Pokedork was born. The guitar hasn't been touched in months.

We've got Stone Temple Pilots on standby, just in case he changes his mind.

Picture #4: Roo

This was taken last Christmas. I don't think I need to explain much about why I love this picture so. I can be said with one word: cheeks.

Now for the last picture. I couldn't find a good one of me to share. And Mr. C, he's usually behind the camera. So I found one of us together that doesn't necessarily show us looking our best, but it's at least an interesting shot.

We were riding the coaster at Stateline on our way back from our one year anniversary in Vegas. Right after the coaster ride, I had an embarrassing moment when I stood up to get off and discovered that my jeans had ridden halfway down my butt. I'd love to go back and warn my 29 year old self that low rider jeans were not an acceptable choice 6 months postpartum. I'm sure the people waiting in line to get on would've appreciated that as well.

So there it is. Some of my favorite pics from our family album. Thanks for reading.

This Friday I pinky swear to you in the name of Kettle Chips Crinkle Cut Lightly Salted flavor, that I WILL post a Finger Food Friday. It'll either be BLT tacos or those dessert pizzas that I never got around to posting. Feel free to leave a comment and tell me which ones sound more enticing!

You all have a good night!

Where I Sit

It's time for me to go back to work, ya'll. Seriously. I'm in need of a J-O-B.

It's not something I feel sad about, either. I mean, don't get me wrong. It's not ideal. We have 4 kids who at the very least, need someone to drive them to and from school and other various activities. This is a huge factor in the whole "going back to work" scenario- what we're going to do with the kids. Then there's the fact that Roo is still so little. It literally, and I mean lit. er. al. ly hurts my heart to think about putting her in daycare.

However, we're not making it anymore. We were making it, and now we're not. Somewhere, somehow, the 6 person household has caught up to us and it is now time for me to get out there and earn my bacon. And while it's stressful looking for a job, I have to say that I am looking forward to rejoining the work force and using my brain for something more than writing out a grocery list.

I remember a conversation I had with the office secretary at the school I used to teach at years ago. It was about a week before I left work to have J. We were talking about me becoming a SAH mom and I voiced a fear I had about getting bored at home all day. She kind of laughed and quickly assured me that I'd have enough on my plate taking care of a 2 year old and a newborn. What I responded with was probably the most foresightful thing that's ever come out of my mouth. I told her, "Yeah, but just because you're busy doesn't necessarily mean you're not bored."

Word.

Anyway, I guess with all this that it's kind of natural for me to be thinking about things like destiny, my heart desires, happiness- you know..... lofty things. Things that have nothing to do with paying the bills and putting food on the table, but everything to do with seizing the opportunity right now to search and hope for something that's ideal. Ideal for me, and ideal for my family. Something that'll make me happy. That's when a certain book title popped into my head.

It's actually a book I've never read. It was just something I saw in my college bookstore and heard things about. It's one of those self-discovery books that talks about chakras and other stuff that I've always tried to be interested in (but never quite succeeded). It's called Seat of the Soul. That's all I know about it, but for some reason those words are what I come back to when I'm thinking about what I want to do in life. It sounds corny and as crunchy granola hippy-sh as you can get, but asking myself "Where does my soul sit?" feels like the perfect way to articulate to myself what it is I really want to know. In other words, where do I feel comfortable? Where do I feel connected?

Where do I sit?

I can tell you one thing. It ain't by the accountants.

Or the scientists. Or the bankers. Or by anyone who likes math, logic, or numbers.

I used to sit with educators. They're a good group. I've realized though that what I really enjoy about teaching is the creative side of designing lessons plans. My class always did a lot of hands on learning. I loved using manipulatives and I loved doing art projects. I loved collaborating ideas with other teachers. The dealing with parents, administration, state testing, discipline problems, and special ed concerns? Eh. Not my strong point.

So do I know where I sit? Nope. Not yet. I may not find out for a long time. Or I may find out and then have it change on me. But for now I'm pretty sure it has something to do with books. Or writing. I'm with the people who like the smell of old paper. They like rainy days and wet window panes and just cozy atmospheres in general. They like moods and music that matches moods perfectly. They like discussions. They like thinking. They like to create things, but on a long term basis. They're into art and photography. They're not necessarily adventurers-they're more like quiet observers.

Sadly, none of what I just wrote describes any kind of job (unless being retired in the rainy Northwest region counts as a job). In fact, I just reread what I wrote, and I'm pretty sure it's a load of crap. But whatever. One person's load of crap is another person's start.

I don't think that even makes sense.

Anyway.

Maybe a librarian in an elementary school? Or an owner of a bookstore.... like the one Meg Ryan owns in You've Got Mail. I could spend my days in a place like that and feel like I was sitting in exactly the right spot.

Until then, my sis' husband gave me a lead on a job he knows of at Marriott: Beverage Cart Girl. I'd be driving a golf cart and serving up beer to golfers on the course.

For minimum wage. Plus tips.

I could sit there for a while.

I guess.

You all have a good night!