Still Alive and Better than Ever

The holiday season has found me surrounded by so many friends and family that I am devoid of the usual pangs of loneliness that drive me to my blogging. We are all doing well and having more fun than is good for us. I'm beginning to get that Thanksgiving afternoon feeling of overindulgence and although I will miss everyone in Utah, I am getting more and more ready for our return to Eugene. It is nice to know that our trek this time will end in a place that is already unpacked and feels like home.

A Few of my Favorite Things

Apparently Rocky also enjoys my favorite toy which I lovingly refer to as Poddy. The arm band is a little big on her so I guess she is going to have to wait a few years until she gets her own. I feel a little bad for her because believe you me, I rarely share.

My i-pod has some music but for the most part it is completely filled with amazing podcasts. Sometimes I wonder how I could have lived before NPR on demand.

P.S. You know how every parent thinks their kid is a genius. I guess that only lasts until something like this happens.

Dark Nights and Cozy Lights

The good thing about the sun setting at approximately 4 p.m. is that Rocky and I can more easily peek into the windows of the houses we pass on our walks. Because it is so early most people haven't shut their blinds. The bright lights from inside provide a perfect view to see in without being seen. I mean this, of course, in the most innocent possible way. I just glance while passing, it's not like I'm hiding in the bushes spying on my neighbors.
I especially enjoy the apartments that are in our complex because we all more or less have the exact same setup. I've gotten a lot of good decorating tips, and even a few menu ideas for dinner from unsuspecting grad students and their families.
Every year my family has one of those mini Dickens Christmas villages.

The houses have tiny little windows that are lighted from the inside. Whenever I look at it I imagine what the little inhabitants would be doing inside. In Ogden there is also a Christmas village of larger houses that you can see into.

Inside are elves building toys, or dolls trimming a tree. Despite our warm coats and hats we would shiver outside enviously at the warm ambience inside the boxes.
Walking around our complex is like a giant version of those villages and I have the same instinct to look in and enjoy the fun.
I guess that in some ways it is a little bit disappointing.

It reminds me of when I used to have a lot of curiosity about what people in the grocery store were saying in Spanish. After I started to be able to understand I realized they were saying the same types of things that people were saying in English.
"Do you think I should get the one percent or skim?" "How many onions do we have at home? Do you think we should get a few more?"
I don't know what I was expecting, except that it would be more interesting. I guess that as humans we have the tendency to believe that other people lead more exciting lives than our own.

It's the same deal with the people in the apartments. Once in awhile I'll get a good glimpse of someone who looks ridiculous while playin a Wii but for the most part it is just regular, boring, living. Mostly I have seen people watching T.V., washing dishes, talking on the phone, studying and eating cereal.
Although nothing remarkable seems to be happening, I feel a little bit like Ebeneezer Scrooge, standing outside in the dark watching the Cratchit family enjoy the warmth of their fire.

But, in my case, I don't feel too left out because I secretly think that if someone peeked in on our dinner, they might think that it looked cozy too. But nobody ever will because I know that I'm not the only one who looks in windows so at the first sign of dark our blinds are closed.

Sugar and Spice, but Mostly Sugar

Looks like somebody is already taking after her mom.

Giving Thanks

We had a very nice holiday.

Rocky spent all morning practicing with her spoon so that she would be ready for her first Thanksgiving dinner.

We shared the meal with our friends Kimberly and Kris and their two boys Owen and Henry. Kimberly roasted a perfect turkey and Kris carved it into a platter that looked even nicer than the cover of Martha Stewart's magazine.

The yams turned out just right

and fun was had by all.

That night we got together with a group of families and had some fantastic desserts and a lot of laughs.

It is nice to have friends, especially when family is so far away.

Success

Thank goodness for the crock pot.

In other news, Rocky has decided that she wants to be a Homie. Brandon and I have decided that it is just better if we let her have her way and hopefully she can work through these stages while she is still young. Kids will be kids.

Bonus Video

Another Day Another Dinner

Lately I have been striking out in the kitchen. I've been trying to learn how to cook and as the stereotypical beginner I have been presenting my husband with a variety dishes that have all the makings of good food, but have gone seriously awry. At first everything came out burned, and now I seem to have swung the other way as if raw were the new black.

It is frustrating to waste time and ingredients and get such sad results. Today, for example, I made a meatloaf that had the consistency of oatmeal.

I also attempted to make a dessert that was supposed to look like this...

But turned out more like this...


Let's be honest. If this was a potluck would you take some of that?

You'd be smart not to because in addition to having the blueberries explode out the back end, the top was nice and the bottom was completely raw dough.

Jill's first try of this same recipe looked almost as bad, but I heard that it tasted fantastic.





I shouldn't complain though because Brandon cheerfully eats whatever it is, no matter how over or under done. He ate the mashed potatoes that I made that had more garlic than anyone would need to keep vampires away for eternity.
He eats it no matter what it looks like, and sometimes he'll even go back for seconds.

I usually claim to be a victim in situations like this, but tonight while I was doing the dishes I glanced at the oven and realized that it had been set at 300 the whole time when the recipe called for 350. I guess that I should be glad that our oven usually burns things because otherwise things could have been even worse.

Oh well, I guess I can try again tomorrow. Or, we could try that Mexican restaurant, El Pato Verde, on 13th Street. I bet that they know how to set their ovens.

A Deep Hippie Connection

This is a shout-out from Rocky to her peeps.

She wanted to say that she misses her cousins but no matter how many miles comes between them they remain close because she is connected to Ethan, Joanna, and Ginny through a deep and pure sense of style.

Apples and Oranges

The other day I was checking on my Facebook account and for my update I wrote "Marci thinks that pears are better than apples." I had just finished munching a pear and felt quite confident in my choice. But, this morning I started to really think about it.

I don't know why I said that.

I mean, I do think that pears are really good, but I have always loved apples. It seems flippant to just disregard all the years that I have appreciated a good apple, often eating one a day. It feels wrong to judge fruits only in comparison to one another. Apples are fantastic and so are pears.

Having a new fruit in my life doesn't mean that I have to publicly humiliate the apple which has stood by me through thick and thin. Apples have only brought good things to my world by keeping the doctor away and giving me something to chew so that I didn't fall asleep during my education classes at Weber State. Actually, when it comes to staying occupied during boring classes, nothing beats an orange. The orange requires the two-step process of peeling and eating.

So does that mean that I should arrogantly make a blatant claim that oranges are better than apples? That would be completely out of line. It would be, well, comparing apples and oranges, which we all know that we should not do because they are two completely different things.

It is like those bumper stickers that say, "My grandkids are cuter than yours."

To me that seems like an invitation to get your car keyed.

I don't even have any grandchildren to be insulted by that message, but I find it frustrating. It seems to say that it is impossible to value something without de-valuing something else. A lot of our compliments come with a free bonus insult.

I guess "My grandkids are cute and so are yours" just doesn't have the same ring to it.

But, for my purposes, I'm going to say that I like fruits of all kind. Except for those canned cherries. Real cherries are way better.

No Words

Potluck Pout

I am a potluck loser.
The first time it happened was after I first got married. I was just barely trying to step into the whole wife scene when there was a potluck at church. I worked all day putting together this fancy Oreo cheesecake. The fact that it didn't set up right was probably because I had used the low fat cream cheese.
You know me, I have a bad habit of trying to cut calories in my desserts instead of doing the smart thing which would be to actually cut out the dessert. So, I ended up sacrificing the quality of my cheesecake, but it was 1/3 less fat than normal cheesecake. I think that it actually might be a good weight loss strategy because when a cheesecake looks as pathetic as mine did nobody wants to eat it and ends up getting 100% less fat than they would have gotten had it been made according to the recipe. But, once again, if nobody else eats it I usually end up taking it home and eating the whole thing myself which ends up giving me five times as much fat as I would have gotten otherwise.
There in the middle of the jungle of beautiful desserts was th runny, droopy, lopsided, black and white pile that was my cheesecake. I kept a close eye on the table monitoring its progress. It was like watching a wall-flower at a dance. One by one the pretty neighboring dishes were scooped up and swept away to be enjoyed, while my dumpy, be-spectacled, pocket-protector-wearing cheesecake sat untouched. At one point I noticed that a small square had been taken from one corner and scanned the plates to see which person had been the good Samaritan that took pity on the thing. It didn't take me long to find the square sitting next to me, on Brandon's plate. I appreciated him for being supportive, but it only added to the desperate-ness of the situation. It was like my wall-flower had been asked to dance by a well-meaning elderly married chaperone who was only asking because he couldn't stand to watch anymore. I felt horrible to have subjected it to such humiliation. Secretly I was even a little horrified by my creation. Like Victor Frankenstein I abandoned the monster that I, myself, had brought into existance. At the end of the night I tried to get out of there without anyone knowing that I had brought the cheesecake. I left it and vowed that I would never claim the plate that I had also left behind. Honestly, I was crushed.
Since then I have never skimped calories on a potluck item.
It doesn't seem to make much of a difference because no matter what I make, it hardly ever gets eaten. I wondered if it was because I don't have any nice plates to display, or if I just pick things to prepare that nobody else likes, or if it is that I'm just a potluck loser. After awhile the sting started to wear off. Then I started making things that I really liked because I knew that I would get to take it home. Never again would I lose a good plate out of disgust. From then on I continued to watch the serving table, hoping that my dish would remain untouched.
Tonight we went to a pizza party with some people from Brandon's program. Everyone was supposed to bring toppings and we were all going to make pizzas to share. I worked all day getting the goods ready for a Jamaican jerk pizza, a recipe from the California Pizza Kitchen. It is an awesome recipe, I know because Grandma Jolley made it a couple of times for us when we were living with her. When I said all day, I'm not exaggerating. I was a little worried that this time it would get eaten. But, the fates were in my corner tonight. With the exception of a diced onion, we ended up bringing everything else home with us.
It's a little sick what continual rejection can do to a person. I had become the girl who didn't dance because she "didn't want to."
Incidentally, on Sunday our ward had a potluck and Brandon made a pumpkin cake. Of course, it was almost completely gone when we left. That is because he is a potluck winner.
I have often worried that there may be other losers out there like me. That is why I eat so much at such get-togethers. I sample a little bit of everything. Nobody is going to be a wall-flower when I'm around. It isn't a gluttonous gorging, but a selfless act on my part
I have learned that there is one thing that I can make that will get eaten every time. Whoopie Pies are my staple and you can bet that the next time anyone asks me to come to a pizza party that is what I'll take.

Voices and Other Strange Sounds from Above

I always wondered if the folks upstairs were cleaning in the middle of the night and that is why it was so loud. Last night I knew for sure because at 12:30 the vacuum was going. They had been busy all day and when I was taking out the recycling I noticed that their Oregon banner was folded up instead of displayed and there were several bags on their porch. I started to wonder if they were moving out.
The late night cleaning seemed to go along with the theory and I even got Brandon's hopes up. Today, however, there are no indications of people moving out, but it seems that several guests have moved in. The bags, it turned out, were filled with garbage.
Luckily since I was awake most of last night, I'm tired enough to sleep through almost anything.
I thought it was pretty cool that it was the first time that I had heard a vacuum up there in the two months we've lived here. My guess is that it really was an emergency.

A Long Story Involving a Train Wreck and a Secret Stairway

I took Rocky in for her 6-month check-up which ended up being a much bigger ordeal than I had originally suspected. I mapquested the address of the office just to make sure that I wouldn't get lost. The estimated travel time was 13 minutes. The appointment was scheduled at 10:00 and I figured that I should plan on arriving early to do any paperwork, and that I should be sure to leave a little extra time in case I got lost. So, at 9:05 Rocky and I headed out the door optimistic that we would happily and calmly use the extra time to relax in the waiting room. Unfortunately in the directions that I printed out, when it said to 'turn right' what it really meant was that I should go left. Because I have a long record of finding myself lost, I'm pretty sure that the error somehow belonged to me, and not Mapquest, but no matter who is to blame, we were lost. After some exploration and a lot of U-turns we got back on track. Unfortunately it took a lot of time.
At 10:00 exactly I had finally found my way into the parking complex. By this time I wasn't at all calm and I definitely was not relaxing in the lobby.
I wound around and around looking for a spot, which ate up another five minutes. I got out and found an elevator that would take me to the fourth floor. But, apparently, there is no access into the building from the fourth floor. So I got back onto the elevator and went to the first floor. I saw a woman holding a baby. She smiled at Rocky and I thought that I could probably follow her right to the doctor. I wasn't sure though if she was headed out or in so and I asked her if she was coming or going. She said that she was going so I asked her if she knew how to get to pediatrics. Within a couple of seconds it was obvious that she didn't speak much English. She was very nervous and tried her very best to give me directions. I told her that I speak Spanish and she immediately relaxed. Then she started rattling off all kinds of information and I was suddenly the nervous one. I nodded my head and acted like I had understood everything, like any self-respecting poor Spanish, and I was on my way.
I knew from our conversation that I needed to enter the building on the third floor. I was positive that I could surely find the office once I got inside. After taking the stairs up I found an entrance into the building. I was starting to feel better now that I had achieved such success. I was, officially, out of the parking area.
The good feeling, however, was short-lived. I walked around the third floor until I found a door to a stairway and entered. When I got to the fourth floor I noticed that it was locked. If I had known that the pediatrics department was Eugene's version of Fort Knox I would have left home earlier. I went back down to the door I had entered from, which was also locked. Apparently I needed to have some sort of hospital security clearance to get in. By this time it was about 10:25. I thought about going down to the first floor and leaving the place with or without vaccinations, but then I realized that even if I was able to escape my stairwell prison, I had no idea how to get back to my car. I reached the second floor and hesitated for a moment and was contemplating how long Rocky and I could survive on the contents of the diaper bag when a man noticed me through the little window in the door.
He asked if he could help and I said that I needed to get to my appointment on the fourth floor. He smiled at me and spoke very slowly and loudly, "Well," he paused, "This is the second floor. That makes the fourth floor would be two floors up."

Thanks.

I didn't think his exaggerated gestures were very funny. After I started screaming about security locks and confusing hallways he realized that I was not part of the personnel that were supposed to be able to access this staircase. He actually ended up walking me all the way to the pediatrics front desk. I'm not sure if it was because he was being nice, or he was afraid that I had become a security risk (poking around where I didn't belong.)
On the way we passed my Hispanic friend who was seated calmly waiting to see the doctor. She had beat me by about fifteen minutes. I realized that I had phrased my question to her in the worst possible way. She had told me that she was "going" and while I assumed she was leaving the hospital, she had been telling me that she was "going" to see the doctor. She gave me an encouraging little wave and I could tell that she was rooting for me. The support buoyed me up enough to show my tardy face at the check in desk.
I checked the clock and it was 10:30. The girl didn't even look up. "Did you get lost? Everyone gets lost. "
I wondered if I wasn't the first innocent mother to be swallowed up in the secret workings of the hospital. She gave me the paperwork and I immediately dropped the clipboard scattering health questionnaires and insurance information all over the floor. I could see myself in her eyes. Rocky was slung over one arm. Her hat had slid over one eye and she only had on one sock. My hair was all frazzled and my mascara a little smeared because of the drizzle outside. I looked like a train wreck. I just shrugged my shoulders and smiled. At least I had made it alive.
Through it all Rocky had just sat quietly in my arms with a look of mild interest.
After the trauma of getting there, the vaccines were a breeze. My little Rockstar took them like the champ she is.

Bonus Video

Gone Daddy Gone

I've heard a lot of stories about women who feel depressed because they never get to see their husbands. I never understood because, until now, Brandon and I were pretty much always together.

We drove back and forth to the school that we both worked at together. We cooked, shopped, ate, watched movies, hiked, camped, and listened to NPR together. In fact, we were together so often that we had to schedule time apart into our lives.

Well, times have changed. Now even when my old man is around, he's always studying. I mean, I don't know what these teachers think grad school is supposed to be. It's like they expect him to work really hard.

He's been writing so many papers that he had to put a pillow on the chair like an old lady.

Once in awhile he has a little bit of extra time, and who do you think gets it?

I can't really blame him. The babe is a lot of fun. Lucky for me Rocky's bedtime is 7 o'clock. Unfortunately, after all that work, it's more and more becoming Brandon's bedtime too.

If I could just get Bullwinkle to do the dishes, maybe I could get his spot on the couch.

In the meantime, at least I've still got NPR.

BaRocky

Rocky reviewed the election materials in order to make sure that she was informed about the elections. Although she didn't get to vote, she looked over our ballots and approved them before they went into the mail. She was pretty stoked about how things turned out and was glad to have been alive to experience in such an historical event. She has been thinking of changing her name to Barocky, but I told her she has to wait until she's 18.






Yesterday I caught her trying to make online purchases with my credit card. Lucky thing she can't reach the keyboard or we could be in some serious debt right now.

Also, I guess those bratty Trick-or-Treaters got us back because they left Mexican candy wrappers all over the complex.





Yeah, this one looks a lot like a Petri dish. I thought about saving it for one of Rocky's future science projects, but in the end I figured that there will always be Mexican candy that we can grow fresh germs on when the time comes.

Mostly Tricks with a few Treats

With a little help from her abuela Rocky made a pretty cute little Ewok.


We had a bunch of Trick-or-Treaters, in fact, we had a lot more than we planned for. I guess I should have been warned when our first visitors arrived at about 2:45, as soon as school got out. When it started to look like it would run out Brandon dug through the cupboards and found a bunch of Mexican candy that was left over from his class last year. The well-behaved little Asian kids, or the ones that held out their cute little bags in a sweet way were all given the good candy, but anyone who was over twelve or acted in a greedy way was awarded a chili-pepper with mango sucker. We thought about taking Rocky around to gather up more to give out, but it sounded like too much work.

My pumpkin was carved, but Brandon's study schedule didn't leave time for his. He said that he would rather eat it anyway. I was pretty excited because Jill helped me to make my own design instead of copying one off the internet like I usually do. I'm sure that if I would have used someone else's pattern that it would have looked more perfect, but I feel really proud of this one.




It reminds me of when I used to work at the elementary school. All of the kids would be working on the same type of project and everyone would do something different. It was interesting how each kid would take ownership and pride whatever it was that they had made no matter how imperfect. It's funny that we feel allegiance to the things that we make.

Like babies. Every mom thinks that her kid is beautiful right? But, in my case, it just so happens to be true.




By the way, any trick-or-treater that complimented the skull pumpkin was given good candy, no matter what the age.

Pumpkin Pride

In order to keep up with the Howard tradition, Rocky and I made our annual dinner in a pumpkin. We walked over to Albertsons to get a pumpkin because the one Brandon stole was way to big for our oven. I found the perfect one, but it took a lot of manuevering to get it, Rocky, and the stroller all home. We cleaned it out, loaded it up, and stuck it into the oven for a couple of hours.



Rocky was having a hard time trying to curb her appetite because it takes so long to cook the pumpkin. It was kind of a big deal for her because it was her very first time to eat pumpkin. Instead of being driven crazy with anticipation she distracted herself by spending a little bit of time in the bouncer. It was good excercise, but it seems pretty obvious that her mind was still on the food.



While she was busy tried to organize the election mailers. I decided to save them for a week, but it was taking over the house. It's a lucky thing that we have mail in ballots here because otherwise it would take a year for everyone vote on all the measures that have been proposed. Thank goodness that the elections will be over soon, and that we have a good recycling program.


Finally it was done. Rocky had a carrot appetizer to take the edge off of her hunger so that she could really savor the first taste.




It turned out really good. I mean, it's not exactly gourmet cooking, but I was pretty pleased with myself.


Rocky loved the pumpkin and we all thought that it was worth the wait.

Spice it Up

Sunday was Anu's birthday and she invited us over for dinner to celebrate. The food was awesome and, even though it was spiced down for us, it had everybody sweating.


It takes someone as tiny as Hema to make Rocky look big.



We were all so interested in the cooking. I'm not in this picture, but you can bet that I was right there watching how she did it all. She was making a crepe-like bread out of a lentil batter. She had cut the top off of an eggplant and used it to distribute oil on the pan. She said that her mother always did it that way and as far as I could tell it worked very well. They also served a spicy vegetable soup, rice and a potato-based side dish.

Anu brought this tin of spices from India. She wasn't sure what all the spices were but she said that almost every dish uses the same things, but it varies how much of each according to the recipe.


We always have so much fun when we hang out with them.


Yesterday we sent Kathy and Jill off at the Eugene airport. It was sad to see them go. I had thought that Kathy could come and get a break from all of the work she has at home, but I think she ended up working harder while she was here. She made all of Brandon's favorite recipes, and indulged Jill and me in our desire for peanut butter fingers. She babysat, cooked, cleaned, and even made a Halloween costume for Rocky. Now everyone is gone I'm feeling a little bit put out that I'm supposed to change diapers. It was fun to have people around to talk to while Brandon was busy studying.



The good news is that the Eugene airport is close to our place so it should be easy when anyone that wants to visit. Or, you can choose the drive, which is really, REALLY nice. Trust me.

Party Time

Before I left home I told my parents that all that I wanted for my birthday was for them to come visit, so last week my mom, dad, and Jill made the 13 hour trek to Eugene. We were excited to have some visitors and had a lot of fun. Here are a few of the highlights.

We went out to the coast because you can't come all the way out here and not even see the ocean. We talked about paying 10 bucks to see an underwater cave that is supposed to have lots of sea lions, but in the end decided against it. Then, later we saw about forty of them absolutely free.


We all walked on the beach looking for interesting shells. We found a bunch of things, including a couple of huge jellyfish. Jill had taken her shoes off so that she could wade in the water. I kind of felt like a dork because I was wearing my running shoes. That morning it looked like it was going to be really cold and rainy, and I didn't want my toes to freeze so I chose the socks and shoes. I knew that it was a bad choice once we got out there and the weather was perfect, but I didn't want to get the insides all sandy so I just left them on. While we were hunting I found this tiny sardine. Jill, Dad and I were all circled around it taking a picture. I took this one with the shoe but I felt that the size would be more easily understood in a picture if it was next to a hand. So, Jill crouched down and put her hand next to it just as Dad jumped and said, "Heads Up!" right as the tide came up from behind us. I was soaked all the way to my knees. My shoes and pants were now soaked, and sandy. After that, going barefoot was the only choice. Next time I'll wear my flip flops.

It was Rocky's first time seeing the ocean and she was flabbergasted. Lucky thing her grandma was there to share it.

For the big birthday celebration Brandon made a paella and we invited some friends over.

I finally got a picture of our friends Hema and Anu. They dressed up in their beautiful Indian dress clothes for my birthday. They told me all about the festivals that are celebrated in India and we all decided that there should be more holidays in this country. Anu told me that when she was little she had a teacher that was Christian and that they all were obsessed with her because she celebrated Christmas. She said that all the kids think that Christianity is really cool because of Santa.

We walked over to campus to meet Brandon for lunch. Mom thought that she needed to take a picture of us by the Romance Language building, Friendly Hall, where Brandon has his office. Because class had just gotten out there were college students everywhere. None of us wanted to look like dorks getting their pictures taken. Brandon saw one of his students walking by and without discussing it we all tried to act nonchalant.

Then she insisted that I needed to get my picture taken with this bike because it was my birthday. I said that because it was my birthday I shouldn't have to pose with the bike and look like a nerd. But, when it comes down to it, adult or not, moms can still tell their offspring what to do.

I had lots of help with Rocky. She thinks she's the Queen of Sheba with a hoard of servants who live to fulfill her every whim. She was fawned over while my parents were here, and Jill has kept her entertained since they left. Now Kathy is here (I'll post her pictures later) and I haven't had to change a diaper in three days. I'm not even sure that the baby even remembers who I am.

We did make time for everyone to gather around the laptop to watch "The Office."

On Tuesday Jill and I went to Portland to see a show at the Wonder Ballroom. The Mountain Goats and Kaki King put on an amazing performance. We were standing in the second row and I swear if I had reached up I could have strum John Darnielle's guitar. I was a little sad though because I don't know the words to his songs. I swear there were a couple of times when I was the only person in the audience not singing along and he would look down at me with a quizzical expression. All I could do was smile what I considered a very supportive smile. He would nod and I felt little bit guilty because I had probably the best spot in the whole venue, which maybe should have gone to a hard-core fan. But, I think Jill is probably the hard-corest of them all and I was with her, so I guess it evened out somewhere in the cosmos.

Jilly also taught me, Brandon and Rocky how to disc golf which is fun and also free. So, basically, anyone who is going to come for a visit should plan on trying it out.

Baby Gone Bananas

Rocky is starting to develop her own little personality. Every day she does something a little bit nutty.

This laugh, for example, is her most recent trick.