Creature Bug

Darian

"Boy! It sure is taking us a long time to get to heaven!" Sydney exclaimed on our way home from church on Easter Sunday.

It seemed like a funny thing to say, but I figured that she was working something out, and I was only catching the tale end of her thoughts. I asked her what she meant.

"Well, we're going to heaven, but it's taking us a long time, isn't it?" I didn't know if she was looking for a theological answer or what, but after a pause I simply said, "Well, sweetums, we don't go to heaven until we die."

Maybe it wasn't the right timing for the discussion, but it was not what Sydney was expecting to hear. She's heard plenty about heaven, and sings songs about heaven, and knows something about getting to heaven, but clearly the whole timing part wasn't on her radar.

"We die?!" She burst into tears.

I tried to console her, but I wasn't entirely sure what to say. I couldn't promise her that we'd be around forever. I couldn't tell her that nobody she knew was going to die. In the end, I told her that it wasn't something she had to worry about. Mostly, I wasn't sure to what to say because Darian was on my mind.

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Three months after Sydney was born, I quickly learned that I needed some kind of support system to help me adjust to being a new parent. After a bit of research, I discovered a local church had a MOPS group (Mothers of Pre-Schoolers) and so one Thursday morning I decided to go.

When I got there, Abby sat at my table. She was the MOPS coordinator, and had the most amazing way of making you feel important from the moment she said hello. That first Thursday at MOPS I realized--thanks to Abby--that I was not alone in the parenting journey. More than that, she made me laugh until I cried.

I kept going to MOPS, and every so often Abby would call me at home just to check on me. My every-other-Thursdays were a lifeline for me and helped me cope with that first year of parenting. Eventually, Abby moved on out of MOPS, but occasionally I would see her and we'd say hello and she'd make me laugh.

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Last year, Abby's youngest son Darian was diagnosed with cancer. Osteosarcoma. His left leg was partially amputated. He endured painful treatments, painful surgeries, difficult recoveries. Despite it all, he started kindergarten in the fall.

Abby chronicled Darian's story through CaringBridge, and I followed along--reading, praying, fasting, praying some more. Darian kept going to school, started swim lessons, fought the cancer.

In February they got the news that the cancer was back. It was untreatable.

Abby continued to write about Darian's journey. Through it all, her faith was steadfast. Through it all, she encouraged others, thanked others for their support, reminded us all that God was in control.

Earlier this week she wrote that Darian would soon be in Heaven. I wept. Even though I haven't spoken with Abby in a long time, I still so vividly recall that first Thursday I met her. I recall the stories she told of her boys. I remember laughing.

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I received the CaringBridge email this morning:

2 Timothy 4:7

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith

Darian went to be with Jesus this morning at 2:20am.  We're proud of you buddy.  Give Jesus a hug for us.

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I told Sydney tonight about Darian. She didn't know him, but she's heard me talk about him. We talked about Heaven; we both cried.

I'm heartbroken for Craig and Abby and Bryson. Their loss is one that no family should have to endure.

Please, oh please, keep them in your prayers.

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Related Posts

By my friend Molly:
Lessons from Darian~Part One
Lessons from Darian~Part Two
Lessons from Darian~Part Three
Lessons from Darian~Part Four

By my friend Alida: A Heavy Heart

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PS: Comments on this post are turned off. I encourage you to leave a comment at Darian's journal.

Week 253: Five in the Tu's

There was the first year, the second year, the third year, the fourth year, and now...the fifth year.

I'm running out of clever puns to use with tulips, but that doesn't stop me from taking pictures.

Because it doesn't stop those tulips from blooming.

I totally called it last year: I wouldn't get lost next time. I would not, could not, refused to get lost this year. Some traditions are meant to be broken, and I broke this one. I didn't get lost. Fifth time's a charm.

I just love tulips. I must reiterate for posterity that they are my favorite flower. I have doubted myself on this point a few times, particularly when Meg Ryan's You've Got Mail character proclaimed her love for daisies. Yes, daisies are nice too--I even used them in my wedding. But a field of tulips?

Hard to beat.

And then when you put little people in wooden shoes amongst the tulips? Seriously.

Children are meant to be photographed in tulip fields. They just are. Because even when you can't get the perfect photo, you're still getting the perfect photo.

I'm not exactly sure what the rock is all about, but since there wasn't a spot of mud to be found (hooray for non-rainy weather!) then they entertained themselves with finding assorted items to cast about in the fields. They may be girls, but they know how to tumble around the outdoors.

They also know what tractors are for.

My sweet little nephew Med was sleeping at the beginning, and not even tulips and group shots are worth waking a baby. Fortunately, he eventually woke up and was easily enticed to give us a few smiles for the camera, which Sarah posted along with a slew of lovely tulip pictures.

Every year we learn a little something new when we go to the tulips. Learn to get muddy, learn to keep up, learn to relax, learn not to take more pictures than we know what to do with. And this year? I learned not to get lost.

Don't underestimate the power of having good directions and trusting your instincts to stay on the road. Lesson learned.

Oh, those tulips fields. They're just so clever at teaching things like that.

And then the week ended

  

Whew! Saturday already? I have so many pictures to share from the week, but I can't seem to find time to sit down at the computer. I plan on lengthy tales, but in the meantime, here's this week in ten bullets:

• Running through fields of tulips
• Seeing "Grease" with my cousin
• Teaching my last day on Thursday
• Swamped with grading (so no summertime rejoicing yet)
• Having lunch with an old friend
• Surveying our house in serious need of cleaning
• Driving up to Seattle but not having time to visit anyone...
• ...except my brother for lunch
• Listening to Dave at Night on audiobook
• Being so exhausted I can hardly keep my eyes open.....zzzzzzzzz 

Week 252: It's amazing what a little sunshine can do for my mood...

Today was a good day. Which isn't to say that I haven't had lots of good days, but today seemed better-than-average good.

First of all, the weather was gorgeous. Sydney summed it up with her trademark observations about the weather and its connection to her clothing choices: "Isn't it a beautiful day, Mamma? We definitely don't have to wear tights today! Or long sleeves!"

Oh my word. Could it please be 80 degrees every day? It can't? Can I please become independently wealthy so I can live in Hawaii six months out of the year? I can't? Well, all right then. But if I ever dobecome independently wealthy, I'm totally buying a condo in Kauai. Right after I buy the naming rights for a new theatre at my alma mater.

Second of all, in addition to all your super supportive comments and prayers that remind me how things are going to be okay, Jason and I had a good conversation about how we want to proceed with our house building plans. We still don't know how it will end up, but I'm not feeling as discouraged as I was. God is good, and even though our plans haven't worked out like we wanted, we know it'll work out one way or another.

And third, I'm totally getting into the swing of this living on the farm thing. We spent the whole afternoon outside. The girls put on their swimsuits, and we played down at the creek. Then we jumped on the trampoline with the sprinklers underneath. Then we ate fresh cinnamon rolls for a snack. Then we went back down to the creek to join up with all the farm kids (that would be 8 kids in total, ages 12 to 4 months) where some serious sand castle building was going on. This summer is going to be so. much. fun.

Added bonus: I got the girls new flip-flops today, and I got myself some new shoes today too. I've had a skirt I've been dying to wear to work but didn't have appropriate shoes for it (ie: non flip-flips). Now I do. Hooray.

Sunshine, peace, playtime, new shoes. Yep. I'd call that a good day.

So, a guy walks into a job fair and asks, "Is anyone hiring?"

Last week Jason quit his job.

A job that he loves.

A job that pays relatively well (as far as what teachers earn).

A job that has fabulous health/vision/dental insurance for his whole family.

A job in an environment that is professional and supportive.

A job that is 70 miles away from where we're living now.

We stressed and stressed over this decision, of him not going back to work at his school next year. But the truth of it is, the commute--through Portland's rush hour traffic twice a day--would have been really hard, and we just decided that he couldn't stay there even though it's such a great job. So, he wrote his letter of resignation and gave it to the district office.

He'll get a paycheck through August, insurance benefits through September.

After that...it's a great mystery. 

I suspect that Jason is one of maybe 4 people in the country who are quitting stable jobs they loved.

There's no turning back now.

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Today he went to a job fair for one of the local school districts. The news was not good. Even though Washington's education budget is in better shape than Oregon's education budget (Salem-Keizer has to cut at least $30 million from next year's budget; by comparison, schools around here have to cut a fraction of that), schools are unsure what kind of hiring possibilities they'll have for next year. Not only that, this particular district needs fewer social studies teachers because of a new program they implemented. Not only that, but Jason can't teach middle school in this district because all their middle school social studies teachers also teach English (a common middle school arrangement that I think is really stupid).

I'm getting nervous.

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We knew it was a gamble to start building the house without Jason having a job lined up for the fall, but I never imagined him not getting a job. I have full confidence in his abilities--if he gets interviewed, he'll get a job because he's an awesome teacher--but my confidence in the interviews materializing is diminishing. I'm not usually one to play the "What if?" game--because I'm a cockeyed optimist and can't bear to think of bitter scenarios--but I'm not ignorant to the reality of our situation.

Right now, we're in fine shape. We still have all that money from the sale of our house. Our monthly expenses are ridiculously low. But once we start building...we'll have a mortgage to pay in approximately 7-8 months.

The conversations we have are miserable:

Jason: Maybe we should wait to start building until I get a job.
Me: What if you get a job in August and then we've lost the whole summer for building because we didn't have faith you'd get a job?
J: Maybe putting us back a few months will be no big deal.
Me: Except losing our construction loan financing and the possibility of getting a crappy interest rate.
J: What if we finish the house in December and we have no money?
Me: That won't happen.
J: What if we lose the house because we don't have any money?
Me:  That won't happen.
J: It could.
Me: It won't.
J: It might.
Me: We'll win the lottery.
J: Sounds risky.

I can hardly think about it. I can't, actually. I've refused to. For months I've told Jason it's not an option to wait until he gets a job (because my sanity cannot handle it). I've reassured him that he will have a job, and if he doesn't then I'll go get a job. But this week of state budget woes has put a damper on my faith. 

And so, at this exact moment in time we don't have a start date. We don't even have a builder now because we couldn't in good faith keep stalling him. It was really sad news to deliver because we've been working with him for more than a year now, and he's a friend of ours.

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Mostly, I just wish I could see into the future. I wish I knew what to do.

Jumpin'

In 1979, my parents bought a trampoline.

It was the best thing they ever bought us.

The end.

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I have so many summertime memories that involve our trampoline ("our" being used loosely here, since I don't actually own it but it still belongs to me). Some people use tvs for babysitters; my parents used the trampoline. "Outside," they'd say. And out we went to play on the trampoline. We put the sprinkler under the trampoline. We threw snowballs from the trampoline. We slept on the trampoline. We read on the trampoline. I'm pretty sure--and don't tell my parents--I kissed boys on the trampoline. It was the center of our little farm universe.

Not surprisingly, Sydney and Jules love the trampoline.

Among the things that kids like to do, I think jumping has to rank pretty high up on the list. Running in circles is also amazingly entertaining, as is creating games that have 513 rules that change every 30 seconds. Something that invites kids to do all three at the same time? A trampoline.

We spent most of the afternoon jumping today. Jumping and running in circles. And then there was some kind of game that involved jumping over the rope, and I was competing against "Miranda" and Sydney was competing against "Lassie."

Syd and I won every time. Take that Miranda and Lassie.

I quickly realized after a bit of jumping that my equilibrium isn't what it used to be. Or whatever it is that keeps you from feeling kind of sick to your stomach when you jump. My legs managed to keep up for an hour before I finally called it quits.

Sydney kept going.

The kids have years ahead of them where the trampoline will no doubt be the place to be. Jumping, running, bouncing, playing, reading, sleeping, eating--the trampoline gets to relive another generation's childhood all over again.

There's only one teeny tiny, fuzzy frizzy problem with the trampoline...

Well, nothing is perfect.

What's on my mind? Facebook wants to know.

About a year ago I saw on my blog's analytics that someone accessed Creature Bug from a Facebook account.

I didn't have a Facebook account because...I didn't want to. I never did MySpace, I still don't Twitter, I rarely even send text messages from my phone (thanks in part to not having free texts). I'm techno-savvy, but I blog, and that seemed to be enough.

But then there was that mysterious Facebook link. I was curious so I clicked on the link, which took me to the page to open a Facebook account. I dutifully did so, and then once that was done, I still couldn't figure out who had linked me because--and if you're on Facebook, you'll understand this--I didn't have any friends. So I couldn't figure out where the link came from.

(For the non-Facebooker, "friends" are your personal contacts. When you first join, you have to click around finding people you know, asking them if they want to be your friend.)

So, the account was open and then that was all I did for awhile. I figured (correctly) that a lot of my former students (from teaching high school and college) were on Facebook, but I wasn't going to be asking most of them if they wanted to be friends. That was just too weird. Even if they were all adults, many of them with children, and only a few years younger than me.

Slowly, though, people found me and asked if I wanted to be friends. My sister. My brother. My sister-in-law in Rhode Island. My good friend Devon. Eventually I figured out how to find old high school classmates. Then there were my MOPS friends. And my friends from the summer I went on a missions trip to Romania. And then lots and lots of old students found me and didn't think it was weird at all to be friends.

I became friends with blog friends whom I'd never met in real life.

I became friends with my dad (who doesn't update ever, but likes to see what we post).

I became friends with my father-in-law.

I became friends with my sister's roommate (which came in handy when she helped me pull off the surprise trip to Colorado).

A couple weeks ago, I ran into someone I went to school with years and years ago. Now we're friends on Facebook. She's having twins, and I saw the ultrasound pictures. How about that.

I became friends with my best friend from high school whom I hadn't spoken to in years. In the past week, I've seen her 3 times, talked with her on the phone, taken pictures of her daughter. It's...unbelievable. It's a story that's waiting to be told.

Last week I became friends with my uncle who's more than 70 years old. And tonight? Friends with my cousin and her husband. Who are also my neighbors. We can just yell our status updates out the window at each other if our Internet stops working.

While I'm definitely not a hard core Facebooker--I don't do the quizzes/poking/notes/games/virtual pet/become friends with celebrities thing--it has been a blast connecting and reconnecting with people from my life.

For me, it's a different kind of feeling than blogging. It's life in 150 characters. Discovering what someone is doing or feeling at a fixed point in time. Connecting in a context that's more in-the-moment. Creating a network of people who all know me and I know them, which I think is one of the key differences from blogging, where I do a lot of writing to an unknown audience. I've even learned to love Facebook comments as much as I love blog comments (which I do, by the way, in case you were wondering...).

I never thought I'd say it, but the realization came to me last week: I ♥ Facebook. It was a conversion a year in the making, but totally worth it.

Week 251: For the love of trees

Despite sunny weather on Friday and Saturday, it was a gray, rainy Easter celebration. Fortunately, we had no reason to be outside--except running into and out of church--so, we stayed nice and warm, snuggled up by the fire at my in-law's house. It wasn't what you would call cold enough to justify having a fire, but I'm all about flipping on a switch and warming my back by a nice toasty fire.

The girls ate ham (miracles!), handfuls of jelly beans (not surprising) and looked cuter than a marshmallow peep in their new Easter dresses that Grandpa Steve got them. And, no, I didn't take pictures. Just like I didn't do an Easter basket or do an Easter egg hunt. I know. Worthless.

But I did take some pictures last week when it was all sunny and gorgeous outside. You know what I took pictures of? My trees.

My trees.

That I own. With my very own property tax paying money. I haven't actually done anything with these trees other than take pictures of them. My mom suggested that I mow the grass around the trees, but I like grass a little longer than she does, so I politely declined. For aesthetic reason, of course. Just like I don't fold my socks when I put them away. I find the helter skelter post-modern artistic sensibilities of unfolded socks in a drawer very aesthetically pleasing. That's my argument, and I'm sticking to it.

The more important argument, however, is the beauty of my trees.

I told the girls I needed to take some pictures of the trees, and they decided to lead the parade by Jeep.

 

We love the Jeep. We think the Jeep is the bestest way to get around the farm, third only to the golf cart and the mule (atv, not animal). Sydney normally doesn't don her bicycle helmet for jeep rides, but she wanted to be prepared for a quick exit onto her scooter. True story.

 

Before we get too far, Sydney has to change the radio station to something more musical. I like to mess with them by setting the radio station to NPR. They hate NPR. Makes Sydney want to fall asleep at the wheel.

 

Two important things about this picture. First, that little orchard in the background belongs to me. And Jason. And probably, in some form, the state of Washington. The other important thing: Sydney's driving through our future livingroom. Good thing we haven't put down carpet yet. Those Jeep tracks would be a bear to get out.

No...wait. It's not a good thing because for the love of building materials I need a house built in this field. Like, yesterday. Not that I'm complaining.

  

Orchards are fun to drive through with little vehicles because there's very little chance you'll actually hit a tree. And also, you're not going fast enough to injure yourself if you do hit a tree.

 

I love this little orchard. People ask me what exactly we farm on the Family Farm, and the answer is nothing. Or more accurately, we grow families. We grow our kids into adults, which I think is probably about as much work as growing hay. But we also have these fruit trees here: apple trees, cherry trees, pear trees, and the ones blooming right now are some kind of plum tree.

 

When my parents first gave us this property, my mom said we could cut down the orchard if we wanted to.

I know.

That wasn't ever an option for us, even though the word is the orchard takes a fair amount of maintenance. We designed the house so that we'd have a view of the orchard from the livingroom and the library. And we also designed it so that all the bedrooms would look out at the trees, where at night we can open the windows and listen to the wind rushing through the leaves, a sound I never grow tired of. It sounds very romantic, doesn't it? Well, I didn't read Anne of Green Gables a million times for nothing.

During any springtime day, however, the loudest sound is of the bees buzzing in the trees.

  

You go, little bee! Pollinate to your heart's content.

It's a little freaky though to stand under the canopy of plum branches, the sound of bees buzzing around you. I have full confidence they won't attack me, but still. They could fly into my hair or something, and that'd be no good.

At some point my dad will have to teach Jason and me how to be responsible tree owners, like pruning and spraying and whatever else we'll need to do to make sure we get edible fruit. But for right now, I'm enjoying just taking pictures of them.

 

Pretty trees. I'm glad you're mine.

Rejoicing for Easter

 

Jules has it right: Easter day gives us a lot to smile about. 

My Friends Tigger & Pooh

As I've mentioned before, we are quite careful about what Sydney sees on tv. For one thing, she's rather sensitive to what she sees, and she memorizes half the lines in one viewing. For another, there's a ton of worthless programming on tv. So, she has her selection of DVDs that she's allowed, and that's it. I'm not against regular tv (I watch plenty of it myself at night); it just doesn't work for Syd.

For the longest time she didn't watch the Disney princess movies (some are pretty scary, huh?), but now she's seen most of them. Even so, the princess movies don't make it into her rotation very often. I don't know what Sydney's movie rotation system is, but I think it somehow involves the stages of the moon, the humidity outside, and which way her cereal floats around in her breakfast bowl. It's a mysterious science.

Mostly, we've been fortunate on movie choices. The one glaring exception is Return to Neverland, the sequel to Peter Pan. The main character has some serious attitude, and Sydney picked that right up. The arm crossing, the nose in the air, the well-timed sniff of disdain: all learned from that movie. It's taken months to undo bad habits she learned from watching Return to Neverland, and if the movie had belonged to us I would have promptly destroyed it. Quite undramatically, I simply returned it.

One of our favorite movie selections for Sydney is Winnie the Pooh. I'm a big fan of the classic Winnie the Pooh. It's gentle, it's not too scary, it's quirky and silly. Love.

A couple years ago, a friend loaned us a new Winnie the Pooh movie. And by new, I mean newly made, and newly titled (the series goes by My Friends Tigger & Pooh). Evidently, the new Pooh airs on the Disney channel, but we don't have cable so it was a new experience for me.

This was not my childhood Winnie the Pooh. I admit, the first time I saw the new Tigger & Pooh movies, I wasn't a fan. The animation is all computer graphics. Christopher Robin is out; sweet little red-haired girl Darby is in. And while the voices are similar, they're not exactly as I remembered them.

But now, owning three Tigger & Pooh movies later, I like the new 3D Pooh. Nothing replaces classic Pooh bear, but the new movies aren't replacements. They're just new. I like Darby for her enthusiasm and positive outlook. I like the inclusion of more music than the classic movies had. I like that the message remains largely the same: friends are important, sharing is important, kindness is important.

This week a new Tigger & Pooh movie came out. We were able to get a free copy to review thanks to some connections, and My Friends Tigger, Pooh and a Musical Too has found it's way into the movie rotation. Lots of music, some cool special features, and no sulking little girls that Sydney will try to emulate. The moral is all about not being too bossy (a perfect message for all three of the firstborn children in our house), and learning to get along with others. I'm liking that because, really, you can't go wrong with that.

 

Someday Sydney will grow out of Winnie the Pooh, but hopefully she'll decide to grow back into him, just like I did. Yes, he's changed a little over the years, but he's still Winnie the Pooh. And there's just something wonderful about that fluffy little guy, isn't there?

Week 250: Ah, dear Oregon. I knew thee well.

On this day, the 250th-week anniversary of being a parent, I, Stephanie of Creature Bug, do not-so-solemnly announce that life in Oregon as I know it is officially done.

Although we still have stuff in an apartment in Salem--Jason still lives there during the week--my life now  happens here on the Family Farm, in my grandparents' house that my grandma no longer lives in since she lives next door with my parents now.

My clothes are here. The pantry is stocked. The fridge is full. All our mail has a Washington address. I have a phone number that begins with a new area code. I still teach in Salem, and still have my Oregon driver's license, but not for much longer.

It's true that I grew up here on this land, living here until I was 18 years old. But I lived in Salem for 15 years--fifteen adult years, which is considerably different than 18 childhood years. I went to college there, got a teaching job there, attended church there. I had my babies in the Salem hospital, walked along the sidewalks with my kids in a stroller. I read the newspaper almost daily, and visited the library weekly. I drank more cups of Dutch Brothers coffee than I can count. I've memorized the aisles of the grocery store, the nearest Walmart, and Costco.

I know the names of all the high schools, know the nearest parks, know the fastest way to get somewhere in town. I can tell you which direction the one-way streets run, and what roads get traffic at 5 o'clock.

 

Since as an Oregonian I have experienced college, church, graduate school, parenting groups, and employment opportunities, naturally almost all my friends live in Oregon. Although the distance of 70-miles (or more) will curtail spontaneous get-togethers, they'll still have reasons to drive to Portland (if only to visit Powell's), and driving to Portland is a mere 20 minutes for me. We won't be neighbors anymore, but hopefully we won't be strangers either.

Life on this side of the Columbia River feels...different. A lot is the same (same weather, same tv stations, same radio stations, same breakfast every morning), but there are still things to get used to. Sales tax, pumping my own gas, learning the fastest way to get somewhere, figuring out where the pretzels are at the grocery store, remembering I don't have the dial the area code before the phone number like you have to do in Salem: small changes that remind me I'm the new kid in town.

The old way of life was rich with blessings, but the new way will be amazing too. Already the blessings of living on the Family Farm are apparent. Sydney can play outside by herself. Jules can walk to Grandma and Grandpa's house and ask for candy (which she does, being ever the precocious one). There are cousins around to play with, old high school friends to connect with, a huge extended family to depend on.

Yesterday there was a deer in the front yard. Today I noticed the trees in the orchard are starting to blossom. And tonight when I walked outside I could see the stars that were never visible from our home in the city.

Six months of living everywhere and nowhere has made me grateful to finally be somewhere permanently. A year ago I was heartbroken about leaving Salem, but now? Now I'm ready. It's time to put down new roots right next to those old roots that I left behind years ago. There's no fanfare; I'm just declaring today the day to make the change.

And so I say, Goodbye Salem, Oregon--you were a town I grew to love more than I thought possible.

And now, Hello, Southwest Washington. Life is going to be good here.

The power of blond highlights

There was honest to goodness sunshine out today. I read a couple Oregon blog posts from today, and they both mention today's weather (of course, I enjoyed the sun from Washington, but I haven't mentally made the shift over the state boundary yet). We do not take sunny days for granted, this much is for sure.

I give full credit for today's sunny bliss to my summery haircut, even if this weather was predicted. I didn't know it was predicted, so. There you go. My daughters thanked me, at any rate. (As for a picture of the new haircut, I did have my handsome husband take one, but the camera cord is in Salem...of course.)

No sooner had the fog lifted than we went out for a walk/run in the stroller. The morning's weather was a bit deceiving: all sunshine and blue skies, as if readying for a fabulous summer day of 80 degree weather. Not too long into our walk I realized that not only was it not warm, but it was downright cold. As Sydney said, "My eyes are crying from all this cold air." Fortunately, the day did warm up and it was glorious.

Tomorrow it's supposed to be 70.

And Monday it's supposed to be 72.

And I only have two more weeks of teaching, which has nothing to do with the weather but is yet another thing to add on to the Celebrate This list.

Hooray for happy sunny days.

Faith is the hair color that warms while it is still raining

Today, I got my hair cut short and had it colored Summer Blonde.

Spring has to come eventually, right?

From Lifenut to Violetismycolor*

Although for obvious reasons I didn't write about my surprise trip to visit my sister in Colorado, I knew there was one blog reader I had to tell:

Gretchen from Lifenut.

Gretchen lives in Colorado, and as soon as I booked my flight, I crossed my fingers that I'd be able to meet up with her. I've been reading Gretchen's blog for years. She wrote that it was four years, and I'll take her word for it. I suppose I could figure it out by seeing when Chief Justice Roberts was confirmed because that's the day I started reading her blog. She had a picture of the new Chief Justice and his squirmy little boy, and now I will forever associate the Supreme Court with Gretchen, which is certainly to their advantage.

We met two Mondays ago, in a town between Denver and Fort Collins, at a restaurant that had big windows, yummy food, and crayons for the kiddos. I love any restaurant that has crayons. Beatrix and Joel colored marvelously on their kids' menus, and Archie--blessed Archie who I had prayed for when he was born and whose eyes I briefly got to look into just before we parted--slept the whole time. Although I could have gone for a few minutes of holding the little guy, I can't complain that he was perfectly angelic through the whole meal.

And what a fun meal it was. Joel is a master conversationalist, and tried to give me a crash course on how to play a computer game with a crocodile and moving platforms and hidden rooms. Beatrix showed me her colorings and talked to me about her lunch, and I couldn't stop smiling at her. One highlight of the meeting: getting to hold Beatrix's hand as we walked across the restaurant. Oh mercy. I had to call Jules at home as soon as I got in the car, I was so homesick for her little voice and hands.

Between Joel's laugh-out-loud stories and Beatrix's adorableness, Gretchen and I talked about all sorts of things, and it was pure delight meeting this mom whose advice I have respected and whose writing I have adored. Thanks for the meet-up, dear Gretchen. What a treat.

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As if meeting one blogger in a week wasn't enough, Diane and I met up with each other last Sunday. I've actually met Diane several times before, although it hasn't been for a couple years now (crazy since we live so near to each other). From the moment Diane and I get together, there is non-stop conversation. We talk about everything, and when I leave her I'm always giddy with all that talking.

This time around we talked about her trip to Japan, kids, Portland, movies, and food. Before our yummy dinner we saw the movie Coraline and were both charmed and alarmed by the movie. If you're not familiar with the premise of the movie, some of the characters have buttons for eyes, and let me tell you, those buttons are a bit unsettling. But the movie itself was so interesting. Hooray for seeing films with ties to Oregon. And hooray for finding time to meet up with nearby friends.

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It is such a quirky and amazing thing to meet people who we know so much about and who know so much about us. That's one I love about blogging.

*Alternate title that I abandoned, fearing it would be too obscure: "Buttons: Cute and Otherwise." As in, the Lifenut kids being cute as a button, and Coraline having freaky buttons. I decided that any title you have to explain isn't quite as clever as I had hoped.