tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-217080012024-03-13T16:06:17.878-04:00Domestic PiracyOn the domestication of pirates, including but not limited to knitting, quilting, homebrewing, gardening, cooking, pillaging and plundering.Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.comBlogger221125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-61865702443951853922017-10-18T20:31:00.001-04:002017-10-18T20:31:06.278-04:00<div class="MsoNormal">
My Food Network Pitch<o:p></o:p></div>
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30 Minute dinners are FABULOUS and all that but I feel like
Rachel has those locked down tighter than the lid on the jar of those pickles
that you made 4 years ago and are afraid to open but can’t bare to throw away
yet. And also, 30 minutes? That’s a pretty unrealistic time for dinner
preparation don’t you think? If I had 30 minutes to spend on dinner I would go
to a restaurant and let them serve me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So here’s my idea.
Work night dinners for busy professionals running between two jobs,
families with kids in activities, etc. </div>
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15 second dinners.<o:p></o:p></div>
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No really. There is
so much food that will technically keep you alive that can be prepared in next
to no time at all. <o:p></o:p></div>
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BONUS for the network, this show is only 5 minutes long
because, hello!, 15 seconds! If I had to fill a full timeslot I would have to
do A LOT of talking to fill up that time, or make 100 dinners…and that’s like
all the recipes I know for the ENTIRE run of the show, which I’m expecting to
be at least 5 or 6 seasons. This shit is
going to be popular, just you wait and see. So you'll be able to fit in like 23 minutes of commercials. BIG BUCKS, amiright?<o:p></o:p></div>
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So here's my first episode, let me know what you think.</div>
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First recipe. Stale
tortilla chips and the off-brand hummus that was on sale that you took to work
for the potluck lunch but no one would eat.
This one is also FREE really because you have both of these things in
your house already. Eat standing up at
the counter using the chips as a spoon and you save extra time by having no
dishes to wash. A fun little twist on
this is crushing the chips up and mixing them into the hummus so that you can
eat them with a spoon while driving.
Throw the dirty dishes onto the passenger’s seat for when there is a
full dishwasher’s load worth, or when you don’t have any dishes left in the
cupboard you can do a “big clean up” and wash them all at the same time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Second recipe. Cheese
and crackers. Fancy ass restaurants put
this on their menu as a “cheese board." If you have a board handy to eat off
of then, sure, be fancy, but if you eat the crackers out of the box you minimize
clean up (SAVING TIME HERE FOLKS). Some crackers even have whole wheat in them
so, HEALTHY, and cheese is packed with protein and calcium and good shit like
that to keep your bones from breaking when you inevitably get scurvy from lack
of fresh fruits and veggies.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Third recipe. Apples
and peanut butter. Get one of those
apple cutters that cuts all the slices of apples at the same time, otherwise you will run out of preptime because cutting up an apple with a knife
takes FOREVER as we all probably know.
The peanut butter can be eaten directly from the jar. Pro-tip, when shopping for peanut butter look
for jars with a large aperture to facilitate scooping with apple slices. Recipe
variation. Skip the apples and just eat
the peanut butter directly out of the jar with a spoon. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Fourth recipe. Grocery store chicken, eaten standing at the
counter. The trick here is remembering
to buy one of those rotisserie chicken thingies as your are cruising passed the
deli department. Once it’s in your
refrigerator you are ready to go with absolutely no preptime. Just open up the chicken box and nosh
away. The legs even come with a handy
built in grip for children who like to eat while running around the house.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Fifth recipe. Deli
sliced turkey wrapped around a cheese stick.
Talk about elegant AND convenient. If you made a bunch of them and lined
them up on a tray you could pass this off as an appetizer at a fancy party.
Just stick a toothpick in each one.
Don’t do that though, because that would take WAY longer than 15 seconds.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So what do you think?
Shoot a pilot? I could make some of those sped up facebook videos that
show people prepping food. If you sped
these up each one would be like maybe 3 second long. Before people even THOUGHT about stopping the
video the video would be over. You could
defeat their short attention spans by being SHORTER than them. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I am available to start production at anytime. <o:p></o:p></div>
Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-91231426280512734742017-08-02T21:50:00.003-04:002017-08-02T21:50:31.066-04:00Quality time with Grandma.<div class="MsoNormal">
My parents live far away and when they are in town visiting
I like to make the most of our time by filling our days with meaningful
memories and once in a life time experiences.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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Just kidding. We go
grocery shopping and take the kids to the park and stuff because life goes on,
even when Grandma and Grandpa are here.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So I was at the grocery store with my mother and my youngest
child, who interestingly enough BEGGED to go with us to the store. Usually when I try to drag the children to
the store they act like they are dying or like I am torturing them by making
them participate in something which is SOOOO BORING, especially because we all
know that when they beg for cookies I will say NO. Because I’m the worst. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Curious behavior to be sure, but I’m pretty sure it was just
to get me and Grandma alone so she could interrogate us because as I was
pushing our laden cart through the aisles of the grocery store she comes out
with this: “Grandma? Did Mom do chores
when she was growing up?” I jumped in
quickly because Grandma had inexplicably choked on something, as she sputtered
I said emphatically “Yes. Yes I
did. All the time, without being
asked.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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“Grandma is that true?”
Grandma was still coughing, although it sounded suspiciously like she
was trying not to snort-laugh out of her nose. I fixed her with an evil glare
to let her know that she had BETTER back me up on this one.</div>
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“Yes! True, all true,” she managed to
sputter.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Shockingly Athena didn’t appear convinced.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As we pushed on through the store my mother growled “You
have to prepare me for these things,” behind her palm.<o:p></o:p></div>
Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-89475218778194235602017-05-16T12:25:00.001-04:002017-05-16T12:25:33.944-04:00How NOT to cook things.<div class="MsoNormal">
I have perpetrated some seriously heinous kitchen disasters
in my day. There was the time that I dropped the lid of the crock pot from the height
of about 7 feet. I was on a stool getting it off a high shelf and the lid slid
off backwards crashing to the floor in a shower of glass particles that looked like
a rain of indoor hail. There was that one time that I was pureeing steamed
mustard greens to make Saag and the bowl of the food processor slipped out of
my hands spattering the front of the cabinets, the floor, the refrigerator
across the room, myself and the baby who was in one of those bouncy “gym”
thingies with a finely pureed mash of spiced greens. There was the time I brilliantly decided to “cool
off” two hot lasagna pans by spraying them with cold water. Thermal shock, it’s a thing. It’s not a good
thing. My love of durable surfaces means
that glassware is basically not safe in my kitchen, cast iron sinks, tile floors,
let’s just say that I can estimate the blast radius of a dropped Correll plate
with an uncanny accuracy.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m telling you this so that you know me to be an expert in
kitchen disasters, so that when I tell you that I experienced the pinnacle of
culinary catastrophes that you’ll understand I am not talking about a chipped
wine glass, or a dropped mug of hot chocolate but an honest to Goddess, 4 alarm
CRIME SCENE.<o:p></o:p></div>
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To set the mood. I’m
getting ready for a dinner party, because I like to torture myself
apparently. Actually it’s because
inviting people over to my house is pretty much the only thing that will
inspire me to clean my house and if I don’t host people on a semi-regular basis
we would all be living in a nest of dirty socks, toys, soiled dishes and sweaty
sports bras. So I’m cleaning my
house. Also there’s a bunch of rhubarb
wilting on the counter top which needs to be either cooked or discarded that
day, also I’m making a tart crust, also I haven’t had my second cup of coffee
yet, also my children seem to think I should feed them or something. So basically just your every day Saturday
morning at our house.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Oh wait there’s something else you need to know. I hate
electric stoves. I hate them, but that’s
what I currently have because until it’s broken I can’t justify replacing it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So I decide to blind bake a pie crust for the rhubarb pie while
I’m mixing up my tart crust recipe, making coffee, loading the dishwasher, and
toasting bread to feed the children. Put
toast in the toaster, separate egg for tart crust, find container for the egg
white so that I don’t waste it, coffee is done, pour coffee in cup, put butter
on toast, put tart dough in the fridge to firm up, put away dishes and reload
the dishwasher, pie crust is done, pull pie out of the oven and place on
stovetop before running upstairs to change out of pajamas.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Halfway up the stairs I hear a noise that sounds like the
children have thrown a box of legos across the room, or possibly turned over a
bookshelf full of board games. It’s a
crash combined with the tinkle of many small objects being flung in every
direction. </div>
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“What did you break!?!” I
yell from the stairs. </div>
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“NOTHING!!” comes the indignant response of 3 falsely
accused children. </div>
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I said something else
which might have been “BULLSHIT!” but I won’t publicly admit to yelling
something like that at three darling innocents who were just minding their own
business.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I rush back down stairs.
There has been an explosion. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HYMIX_0BIh0/WRsmOz-f53I/AAAAAAAAE0o/a9IIGlZnAjokXEHiqTVdmLibyJYsFfVugCLcB/s1600/20170506_093859.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HYMIX_0BIh0/WRsmOz-f53I/AAAAAAAAE0o/a9IIGlZnAjokXEHiqTVdmLibyJYsFfVugCLcB/s320/20170506_093859.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is after I've cleaned up quite a bit.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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It
takes me a few seconds to figure out what I’m looking at. The glass pie plate has shattered, shards of
glass in every direction, the pie pastry still on the stove with the parchment
paper and dried beans from the blind bake starting to smoke. There are pops as more glass shards jump from
the stove top, and I realize that I left the burner on after making coffee in
the stove top coffee maker. And that
means that I set the pie plate down on a hot burner that was cranked up to one
notch below “hi” and that if I don’t get to the stove to turn it off my glass,
pastry and bean explosion will turn into an actual on fire explosion. So I tip-toe through the shards of pyrex
while yelling at my children “DO NOT COME IN HERE! NO ONE COME IN HERE!” and I
turn off the stove. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jxw-kzITZuU/WRsmo0OdksI/AAAAAAAAE0w/hv1H4Nn5hUgv1KqSfuoDzPNTeYXB_pIgwCEw/s1600/20170506_093817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jxw-kzITZuU/WRsmo0OdksI/AAAAAAAAE0w/hv1H4Nn5hUgv1KqSfuoDzPNTeYXB_pIgwCEw/s320/20170506_093817.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The only recognizable things were the handles.</td></tr>
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Basically everything
in my kitchen is covered in glass glitter.
There are shards of glass wedged between the coils of the stove, there
are dry beans covering my entire stove top. One handle of the pie plate is
wedged under the fridge and the other one is 10 feet away from it on the
counter top. I start separating the pile of smoking debris on my stove top with
a pair of salad tongs since everything is too hot to touch.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7t8yNjBjHs4/WRsmq_37FBI/AAAAAAAAE00/M1gBf30vqhcx6MvPPwxinKdJ6EHY_avWwCEw/s1600/20170506_093757.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7t8yNjBjHs4/WRsmq_37FBI/AAAAAAAAE00/M1gBf30vqhcx6MvPPwxinKdJ6EHY_avWwCEw/s320/20170506_093757.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The other handle bounced off this jug of vodka...which I didn't even start drinking!</td></tr>
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I estimate it took me about two hours to return the scene of
the crime to a habitable state. My kitchen has never been cleaner. I wiped down parts of my countertops that
probably haven’t seen a damp cloth since the day they were installed. The container of utensils next to the stove
dumped out so that glass bits could be rinsed from inside it. I swept, swept again and then mopped. I MOPPED. I had to vacuum out the inside of
my stove. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cWB33k3lmEU/WRsmxcGpWJI/AAAAAAAAE04/3HCNpA1fbC8y8Qm-yDgvWXDbcLARXWpzACEw/s1600/20170506_101257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cWB33k3lmEU/WRsmxcGpWJI/AAAAAAAAE04/3HCNpA1fbC8y8Qm-yDgvWXDbcLARXWpzACEw/s320/20170506_101257.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh nothing, just vacuuming glass dust out of my stove. What are YOU up to?</td></tr>
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<br />The obvious moral of this story is that electric stoves are
evil. What are the chances that I would
accidentally put a glass pie plate onto a gas burner that was cranked up to
hi? ZERO. Because it would have FIRE shooting out of it
and even my cavewoman brain is able to figure out that you shouldn’t set a
glass pie plate down on something with FIRE shooting out of it. <o:p></o:p></div>
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There might be a lesson here too about trying to do too many
things at once, or maybe it’s a cautionary tale about the dangers of trying to
clean your house while making pie…<o:p></o:p></div>
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Nope. Just that electric stove thing. That’s the only caution in this tale.<o:p></o:p></div>
Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-4149589167946222642017-01-03T09:59:00.001-05:002017-01-03T10:04:39.688-05:00I am sure that this is going to start a fight with about 50 people but here goes anyway...<div class="MsoNormal">
I have probably hurt some feelings lately with my rantings
about so called “work from home” business opportunities. Another name for these types of companies is “Mulit-level
Marketing,” which is a fancy way of describing a pyramid scheme. Broadly, these
are companies that offer an “exclusive” line of products which can only be
bought by someone who has agreed to be a distributor. Usually these distributor agreements come with
a minimum purchase, and usually the distributors are encouraged to sign up
additional distributors which they will then get some sort of credit for.<o:p></o:p></div>
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If you aren’t currently living in a off grid cabin somewhere
out in the bush you probably know what I’m talking about. A huge number of these companies are diet and
health related (<a href="https://bawgblawg.com/2016/08/25/the-myth-of-the-new-you/">see my rant about the diet industry here</a>), and then there’s a
jumble of household goods, fashion, etc that make up the rest of them. I, like most other social media users, am
completely fed up with being invited to “parties” where a friend of a friend
will then pitch me on their exclusive line of branded products. Here’s the thing though…I like having the
opportunity to support my friends. I
shop at my friend’s stores, I get my hair cut by them, I buy their artwork…nothing
makes me happier than shelling out my hard earned cash to someone who I know
will get more advantage from it than if I bought a similar item in the
store. I’m even happy to pay a higher
price for these things because I understand that being a small business person
comes with a higher operating cost than a large corporation. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So why do I immediately delete these party requests without
even looking at the product line? Because
what I absolutely cannot support is my friends being taken advantage of by
large pushy corporations.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Taken advantage of?
Well that seems harsh. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Here’s why I think that.
My work background is in purchasing and inventory management so I am familiar with how wholesale is supposed to work. Most
businesses fall into one of three categories (this is an obvious over
simplification but just stay with me). You can have a Franchise, you can have a
Dealership and you can have what I think of as a “Managed Inventory”
store. <o:p></o:p></div>
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When you buy a Franchise the main thing that you are buying
is a brand. The parent company has done
ALL of the product development for you, they do the advertising campaigns, they
do the packaging, absolutely every detail is taken care of for you. A franchisee is successful when someone from
a different town can walk into the new store and find that it is completely
indistinguishable from the one down the block in their home town. The parent company usually offers the
franchisee a guarantee that they will not sell additional franchise agreements
within a certain area based on geographic distance or population density. Part of the value in being a franchise owner
is knowing that people will seek you out and you will be the only option in the
area. Back in 2005 Krispy Kreme donut
company got in big trouble for over inflating their sales numbers and over
selling franchise agreements….fraud in other words. Not good.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A dealership has some similarities with a franchise but it’s
not so rigid. Some stores act as
dealerships for multiple brands, and frequently stock other items that are not
branded the same. Many fabric stores
are also sewing machine dealerships, for instance. The parent company wants to place their
products into successful stores and the store owners want people to seek them
out because of the reputation of the brands that they sell. It’s a cooperative agreement where both sides
work to prop up the other. When a parent
company and a store owner reach an agreement part of that agreement is that the
parent company will not sell their products to any other stores within a
certain geographic area. This increases
the value of the brand for the store owner because, again, they know that they
have an exclusive product which customers will travel to purchase.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There’s a theme developing here. Exclusivity.
Brand value. Geographic
isolation. <o:p></o:p></div>
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And then there’s what I call “managed inventory”
stores. These are stores where the owner
or purchaser chooses unique items for their stock based on their customers’ interests,
rate of sales, season etc. Most
dealerships also have supporting inventory that works on this system. In this case the exclusivity comes from the
unique mix of items that the store owner has decided to stock. Sure, you can get some of the items at different
stores but then you’d have to make multiple trips. As a purchaser one of the questions that I
want to know when I add a new product line is “who else has this?” Some companies will agree to a geographic
exclusivity clause, and some won’t. It’s
up to me as the inventory manager to know what my competitors are selling, and
to keep my inventory fresh and interesting so that when customers come to my
store they’re excited to buy.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So here’s my main problem with these work from home “opportunities.” For the ones that give kick-backs for people
who sign up additional distributors, they are literally paying you to weaken
your brand. You may be a very conscientious,
respectful marketer but if you sell “XYZ” brand diet shakes then every time
some other distributor mass invites everyone in their social media address book
to an “XYZ” party, your brand is tarnished.
Maybe all of these companies are not guilty of pyramid style marketing
but they are ALL guilty of over oversaturation. </div>
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In my opinion it is unethical for a company to sell you on a batch of
products and then set up another distributor in the same market to compete with
you. If I agree to open a Burger Bizzaro
restaurant and then the company tells me “hey, sell another franchise agreement
to your friend from High School and then we can set him up right across the
street from you, but don’t worry we’ll give you 10% of everything he sells!”
that is NOT a good deal for me.
Basically all the customers traveling south will go to his store because
it’s an easier right hand turn and all the customers going north will come to
my store. I’ve lost HALF my customers
for a 10% kickback. Plus there’s another
Burger Bizzaro going in a block away from us because some other guy I don’t
even know bought a franchise and he’s paying college kids in free Burgers to
stand on the street in a clown costume and wave people into the parking
lot. Pretty soon there are so many
Burger Bizzaros in town that people are so sick of hearing the jingle and
smelling stale French fry grease that they all stay home and eat Turkey
Sandwiches instead.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In summary. These
companies are TAKING ADVANTAGE OF YOU, and that makes me mad.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The End. <o:p></o:p></div>
Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-64562315614461997562016-07-26T07:26:00.001-04:002016-07-26T07:26:26.829-04:00Kids and chores, the struggle is too real.<div class="MsoNormal">
Have your
kids help out around the house. Teach
them responsibility. Set them up to be
big winners in the game of life by having them load the dishwasher </div>
every night.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lpwg-BHpYvk/V5dINmbEZeI/AAAAAAAABWU/53EzvN2vl70fbdBr9LEX3Ss6m6Xi0ULawCLcB/s1600/13006732_10207519178312252_8095100505407879964_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lpwg-BHpYvk/V5dINmbEZeI/AAAAAAAABWU/53EzvN2vl70fbdBr9LEX3Ss6m6Xi0ULawCLcB/s320/13006732_10207519178312252_8095100505407879964_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The kids are pretending that the vacuums are proton packs and that they are Ghost Busters. This was my husband's idea. He's a genius.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There’s only one problem with that. Getting your kids to do chores IS a
chore. I can spend 15 minutes cleaning
the kitchen after dinner OR I can split it down into tiny taskletts and parcel
them out to the children and then observe and correct them (No dearest! Sweeping doesn’t just mean dragging the broom
in a circle around the floor, you have to actually look at it to make sure the
bits are getting swept up.) but not ACTUALLY do it for them, keep them on task,
and then of course deal with the inevitable melt down where one child loudly
denounces the other children for not doing their fair share, one child curls up
into a ball and moans that they are TOOO TIRED, and the other children screams
at you that you have RUINED THEIR WHOLE DAY AND DOES THIS MEAN THEY WON’T GET
ANY TABLET TIME?!?!? An hour later, we’re all late for bedtime and the kitchen
is not clean. But they’ve been taught
about responsibility! And then as I
always do I imagine them acting in exactly this way when they are grown
up. My kid. Lying on the floor after the manager at their
first minimum wage job asks them to sweep the floor. “BUT MY LEGS ARE SO TIRED! I can’t hold the
broom, or stand. I’m too tired to
BREATHE.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And goddess forbid that they want to help you cook
dinner. I hope you have three hours to
cook.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fold a shirt, or sit next to someone and describe in precise
details 10 times in a row how to fold a shirt….or have your folding corrected
by a 5 year old who thinks that your way of folding is DUMB and will greet her
father at the door loudly proclaiming “GUESS WHAT PAPA!! I TAUGHT MOM HOW TO
FOLD UNDERWEAR TODAY BECAUSE SHE DIDN’T KNOW HOW AND I DID, ISN’T THAT FUNNY!!!” Hillllllarious.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here’s the thing though.
Between the nature programs they devour on television and the environmental
curriculum that they get at school, these kids will run out into oncoming
traffic to pick up a piece of litter. Baby bird fell out of a tree? ARMAGEDDON. But pick up the thousand shreds of paper that
fell to the floor during the afternoon art project? I’M SO TIRED I CAN’T LIFT PAPER.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve decided that the way to inspire them to help out around
the house is to use the words from their school lectures. Clean the living room? Hell no. We are working on our “ENVIRONMENT.”
Make your bed? Oh no. We are tidying up our nests. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s totally not working.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then I thought maybe some music would help them keep on
task. Let’s be honest, the only time my house has ever gotten anything close to
clean is if I have been having a jolly old rock out. If I had a cleaning service it would be
called “Punk Rock Get’s it DONE,” but also don’t hire me to clean your house I’m
a horrible housekeeper. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Have you ever seen 3 under 10’s mosh out to “Let it GO?”
Well come by my house during after dinner clean up and you shall, oh yes, you
shall.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-2970988369262531472016-01-21T09:52:00.001-05:002016-01-21T09:52:41.672-05:00Once upon a time, on pinterest...<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m stating clearly, so that there can be absolutely no
doubt about my opinions as you read this, that I think parenting advice is
absolute bunk. “Parenting” books are a million, probably BILLION dollar
industry that exists solely to make money for authors and publishers at the
cost of your confidence and instinct. I’ve been the parent of a newborn three
times and hope never to return to that bleak hellscape. There’s a reason that sleep deprivation is
used to torture people. Every parent
that has ever parented since the beginning of time has thought “I must be doing
this WRONG! There’s NO WAY this could be the normal circumstance of raising a
child!” Spoiler alert. Parenting is a fucking hard job and there is
NO EXPERT that can tell you how to do it because no one has ever parented your
child before. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And now, bless us, there is the internet where any asshole
with a digital camera can wipe the frosting off their kid’s chin, prop them up
next to “baby’s first periodic table” and pretend for 30 seconds that they know
what the fuck they are doing. And
hooray! Maybe they have it all figured out, I can’t say for sure, but I do know
100% that they don’t have it figured out with YOUR kid, and YOUR life and YOUR
schedule of crucial but inevitably neglected tasks. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pinterest is a breeding ground for helpful advice from well
meaning strangers. Pinterest will tell
you in NO uncertain terms that YOU are failing at life. There are literally thousands of to-do lists,
meal plans, check lists, work out challenges etc. for you to print off and post
on your refrigerator to be lost among the expired coupons, soccer practice
schedules, and lists of unpurchased school supplies. These “free printables” (excuse me but
WHAT? You are going to, FOR FREE, create
another piece of paper to clutter up my life and make me feel guilty about not
doing ENOUGH? THANK YOU SO FUCKING MUCH!!) are always full of words like “simple”
and “just” and “routine,” promising that if you “Just include these simple
steps in your daily routine,” that your life will be magically transformed
something from the centerfold of Martha Stewart’s special House Porn
edition. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I got news for you.
There is “just” nothing “simple” about a household “routine.” “Just do 10 push-ups before every shower!” Sorry but I fail to see how doing 10 push ups
once a week is going to do fuck-all for my core strength. “Just print out this simple meal schedule for
routine weeknight dinners!” Great, sounds good.
I’ll just go shopping for all of these things that I don’t normally buy
during the ten minute long gap in my schedule and then spend an extra half hour
making something that half my family won’t eat.
Simple! “Just follow these simple
steps to streamline your housekeeping routine.”
I would FUCKING LOVE to wipe down
my counters every morning after unloading my dishwasher and making my bed. That would be utterly fan-fucking-tastic,
except that the school is actually super uncool about dropping your kids off
unfed in their pajamas. I KNOW?! Judgemental fuckers, right?!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I do have one life hack that will totally simplify your
daily routine though. Stop believing in
the perfect routine where everything gets done and everyone is happy all the
time. It’s the modern fairytale, and it’s
basically as likely as opening your door and finding your fairy godmother
standing there with a pair of glass slippers for you. Good enough is GREAT. There is always going
to be SOMETHING that falls short. The
best that you can do is to define for yourself how bad it can get before it’s
REALLY falling apart. That’s going to be different for everyone! And the bloggers and the pinners have a
different breaking point than you do.
Maybe you really do fall apart if your bed doesn’t get made every
morning. That’s great! Make the bed! But
something else is going to slide a little bit while you’re doing it. AND THAT IS PERFECTLY NORMAL AND OKAY. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Good enough. It’s as
good as you get.<o:p></o:p></div>
Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-59636908653724131962015-11-14T13:25:00.000-05:002015-11-14T13:25:09.439-05:00My opinion on unsolicited opinions.<div class="MsoNormal">
Here’s the plus about being a six foot tall Amazon with a
resting bitch face that looks like I’m ready to throw down….no one critiques
my parenting skills in public! I am sure
that many denizens of the grocery store shuffle quickly to their cars thinking “Damn,
I’m glad that she’s not MY mom,” but I never actually have to deal with the
advice of random strangers. I breast fed
three babies in public with nary a side eye, shit, I used to bring my Boppy
Pillow with us to the bar for more comfortable nursing. I have carried screaming children over my
shoulder through crowded store aisles, I even had to extract my naked son from
a swimming pool locker room after he REFUSED to get out of the shower after
half an hour. Has any well meaning mother-of-the-year
ever stopped in to tell me that if I just made sure he got more fiber in his
diet then his behavior would improve?
No. Has any grandmother ever
stepped in to tell me that that’s not how they did it in their day? No.
So, you know, I have to buy my clothes from the “Modern Giantess”
catalog, but at least no one has interfered with the way I’ve decided to raise
my kids...until now.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e-z8_XWkHv0/Vkd54htEJjI/AAAAAAAABPw/wi8MJGbDF1c/s1600/17316_10205531970753305_40362434349359280_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e-z8_XWkHv0/Vkd54htEJjI/AAAAAAAABPw/wi8MJGbDF1c/s640/17316_10205531970753305_40362434349359280_n.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will not go into detail because it would take too fucking
long but let me just assure you that Mondays are not the day that you want to
get in my way. Pretty much every single
second of Monday is specifically scheduled from 7:24am which is the last possible
minute that can wake up my kids and still get them to school on time, until
7:24pm when I unload them from the Van, tired and already in their pajamas
after their swim class. There is
something happening during every single minute of the day and if the schedule
deviates even slightly then the whole thing ends up in utter catastrophe. I am
not an organized person. I don’t think
three steps ahead, I like to live in the moment and take things as they come,
so let’s just say that at best Monday and I have an uneasy truce.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are 37 minutes of “waiting” on Monday afternoons, that
I hold onto like a precious gem of sanity in the swirling seas of scheduled
obligation. After I drop eldest off for
his tutoring appointment I can take the younger kids to a playground down the
street and they (wait for it, because it’s fucking amazing...) ENTERTAIN
THEMSELVES FOR AN ENTIRE HALF HOUR. I
know, I know…it’s the stuff of dreams.
Those nights when you are holding a fussy, hungry newborn in the wee
small hours of the morning, you close your eyes and see a halo of golden light
through which you can watch your children playing BY THEMSELVES on the
playground while you fondly watch from a distance and gradually rebuild your
fragile mental health. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I defend these 37 minutes with every tactic at my
disposal. I pull up to the park, open
the side panel door on the van and (not literally, but literally if that’s what
is required) boot them out of the vehicle.
Then I sit by myself in the driver’s seat of the van for 37 minutes,
listening to the radio, checking my email, calling my mother, knitting, or any
one of a million other trivial things that have been robbed from me on this day
of many obligations. So you can imagine
my annoyance when I became aware of a presence on the other side of the window,
a presence which resolved itself into the face of a sweet and well intentioned
woman of not-quite-elderly vintage. The
presence tapped on my driver’s side window, clearly indicating that I should
lower it because she had wisdom to impart to me. The window reluctantly lowered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Go! Go and play with
your children on the swings,” she twittered at me. And then she walked along the road
accompanied by her well-walked dog and her husband who muttered “Was she just
sitting in the car texting?!” in a tone that clearly indicated that I was out
of my ever loving mind to miss this prime bonding experience with my precious
children and their fleeting childhood.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So let me clear things up for you. I have no idea what I was doing,
husband-person, I might have been texting, I could have been checking my email,
or returning a phone call that I can’t return while surrounded by extremely
loud children. I might have been
refining uranium, curing cancer, solving the world’s problems in a three way
facebook message string between me, Obama and the Pope. I might have been looking up porn, or
announcing my candidacy for president of the universe. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I wasn’t doing was playing with my children on the
playground. I don’t actually like
playgrounds. I’m sure that there is a
lightning bolt charging up extra hot and just waiting for the right minute to
strike me dead for saying so but playgrounds suck for grown ups. And swings?
Swings are a fucking racket man.
Agree to one underdog and your life is basically over. You have become a slave to the swing
set. They will NEVER LET YOU GO. Observe my children playing on the swings. They are laughing, they are pushing each
other, they are experimenting with different swing positions for maximum vomit
induction…they are having a blast. You
know what would happen if I went out there?
Both of them would assume the “push me” position and demand in loud,
ungrateful and irritating voices that I push them FOR ETERNITY, and we would
ALL be having way less fun. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I NEED those quiet minutes in between appointments, work,
errands, school, lessons, and myriad other obligations. Those are the minutes where I can recharge my
reserves of patience and understanding so that when youngest is standing on her
mitten in the morning, while simultaneously telling me that she can’t find her
mitten and that she looked EVERYWHERE for it!!! I can say “Sweety, darling, you
are standing on it,” instead of “ohferfucksakeareyoukiddingmerightnowyouirritatinglittletwerp!” They also need those minutes to play without
me being there to be the focus of every problem and desire. They can lean on me to direct their game, all
of which dissolve instantly into “show mommy and get approval!” or they can
figure out something that appeals to their weird little kid brains and they can
play “hippopotamus princess rescues the dragon.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I could have explained this to you, sweet older lady, dog
and husband, but you ran away before hearing my opinion. You probably thought you already knew what I
would say. You probably thought that I
would say “Fuck off and die you interfering old busy body! This is none of your
damn business.” And you would have been
TOTALLY CORRECT.<o:p></o:p></div>
Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-88680656178180286522015-10-06T21:10:00.002-04:002015-10-06T21:10:26.365-04:00The Sleep Avoiding Ninja<div class="MsoNormal">
There is an infinite number of mind boggling things about
motherhood. Firstly, how can you grow a
human INSIDE ANOTHER HUMAN!??! That just
doesn’t make sense. How can that
possibly be a viable form of reproduction.
Yeast…budding…look there’s a lump on my side that is about to become
another one of me exactly like me…sure, why not? Makes sense. You could be all “Hey little bud dude, how’s
it going over there? Ready to split off?
Not yet? No worries! Take your time!” Eggs.
Sure! Little self-contained
nugget of reproduction…I can handle that.
Sit on it all day to keep it warm?
Sure, I GUESS I can suffer through ALL the offerings that Netflix has to
offer, except, you know, for those times that I get to get up and go to the
bathroom with a bladder that is STILL ENTIRELY MY OWN, not squashed by a human
living in a water balloon in my stomach.
Mammalian reproduction pretty much sucks. I have a four month black out surrounding the
last two months off gestation and the first two months of life surrounding all
three of my children (because HOW COULD YOU NOT!?) but I do remember saying to
my midwife “This is a stupid way to reproduce!!!” while I was on all fours and
in the middle of pushing out baby number two.
(The fact that there is a baby number three is evidence of the
effectiveness of that four month memory wipe surrounding the birth of all my
children). I also recall saying “Why am
I having another baby! I don’t know what
to do with the babies I already have!” while baby #3 was being born, and
apparently I used the word fuck so many times that my midwife thought the only
way to get through to me was to tell me “Oh you’re having a fucking baby.
You’re having a fucking baby right fucking now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But that’s not actually what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about another completely
mind boggling thing about mothering which is that all your kids are completely
different from one another. Same
variables. Same raw materials. Completely different. There is no such thing as an experienced
mother because they change the goddamn rules with every single kid!! NOT FAIR.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So let me introduce you to the “baby” of the family. First of all…female child. That’s new!
That’s different. You know the
number of times that she’s peed on the toilet seat? ZERO.
What is up with standing to pee?
BOYS INVENTED THAT!! They’re like
“HEY! You know what this thing looks
like? A HOSE!! You know what you can do with a hose?” Well apparently the answer is write your name
on the bathroom wall, if the amount of pee that I have wiped off of things is
any indication. There has not been a
single day in the last 8 years where I was not in immediate contact with
someone else’s piss. THEY DON’T TELL YOU THAT IN HEALTH CLASS! Just because you have a penis doesn’t mean
that sitting down to pee isn’t a fucking great idea, that’s all I’m
saying. Start a revolution. Sit your boys on the toilet…done. World peace.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Youngest child. You know
what? She’s learned ALL the tricks from
all the other children. Baby number one
at bedtime? His head hits the pillow and
he is out like you flipped a switch.
Head, pillow, eyelids BOOM. He
sleeps like he’s on a timer. 10.5 hours
and BING! Eyes open and he is ready to
torment his siblings and make fart jokes like it’s his goddamn job until 8:45pm
when his clock winds down and the recharge cycle begins. Child number 2? He gives a few half hearted
attempts to squeeze me for a sip of water, a snuggle, one final chance to hose
the bathroom with his piss…but really his heart isn’t in it. He’s tired.
He WANTS to give in to the void.
After all tomorrow is another day, full of chances to throw temper
tantrums about completely random shit like not having his toast on the right
plate, or needing a GREEN lego!!!!! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Child number 3? She
who is doomed to be the baby forever because this child factory has been shut
DOWN? She has watched, she has learned,
she has studied with the masters until they had to come up with a belt that was
blacker than black. I give you THE SLEEP
AVOIDING NINJA!! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is no song that can soothe her, even if she chose
it. The book you selected is WRONG. Oh, you think you have the right stuffed
animal because you had to search through two toy boxes and crawl under a couch
to retrieve it the previous night? Well you are WRONG motherfucker. You might
as well just take that teddy bear out to the backyard and put it out of its
misery for all the good it will do you. This child cannot be lulled by cuddly
objects. She is TOO TIRED. Too tired for
everything. Too tired to get her own
pajamas. Too tired to brush her teeth. Too tired to LIE IN HER BED. You gave her a glass of water in the bathroom
right after she brushed her teeth?!
NO! The bedtime avoiding ninja’s
mouth is dry!! So DRY! “I stuck my
finger in my mouth and it was not wet!” dry.
You heartless beast. How could
you! This baby is obviously at the very
edge of dehydration!! NO NOT THAT
WATER!!! That water was in the cup next to the bed from last night and tastes
like dirt. “YOU MADE ME DRINK DIRT WATER!!!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dzRQupF6zSc/VhRw46Z5-hI/AAAAAAAABOU/Ail-chWf8bo/s1600/SLEEP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dzRQupF6zSc/VhRw46Z5-hI/AAAAAAAABOU/Ail-chWf8bo/s320/SLEEP.jpg" width="176" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What if I rub your back a little bit, baby ninja? Maybe that will help you to relax. “NO NOT LIKE THAT!!” You are rubbing WRONG!!!
And anyway it’s her ELBOW that hurts, not her back, you cretin!!! And she needs to stare into your FACE while
she falls asleep. You are using the
WRONG pillow. If she cannot see your
face while she is slowly, oh so slowly, drifting off into a restless slumber
then BOOM, it’s not happening. The soft
pink blanket? IT HURTS HER TOE. The quilt with the dinosaurs on it “I HATE
DINOSAURS!!!” No one in this world has ever hated dinosaurs baby girl. Dinosaurs are a constant. Dinosaur love is universal!!!!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
It’s a battle of wills.
A test of determination. Who will
fall asleep first? Sleep avoiding Ninja, or momma who will wake up with a back
ache an hour later, unable to fall back asleep in her own bed because of the “nap”
on a random pile of pillows, precisely constructed to provide the perfect “view”
to ninja girl? Right now the score is
Momma zero, Ninja eleventy million.<br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ragnar…who apparently will sleep when she’s dead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-70774157415976559462014-08-13T20:28:00.001-04:002014-08-13T21:33:43.662-04:00The un-taken pictures.I could have one of those blogs where I post pictures of my kids well balanced meals, home grown veggies, plates that have never seen a chicken nugget. I could do that. I make those meals...sometimes. I could have one of those blogs where the kids pose eagerly in their new "made by mom" outfits in front of a field of color coordinated wildflowers. I make clothes for my kids...sometimes. <br />
<br />
But I'm not going to do that to you.<br />
<br />
Because it's a lie, is why. <br />
<br />
For every picture of a toddler posed with book on knee, sunlight streaming in from just the right angle, there is another picture, the untaken picture, the sink full of dishes that didn't get washed, the take out containers in the trash from the uncooked dinner. For every picture of a kale salad bento-box there is another untaken picture of a kale salad that has been abused for 20 minutes, pushed around a plate while all the almonds or cheese cubes were surgically extracted. Sure. Some kids eat veggies. Mine do sometimes. I had a brief moment of glory in the grocery store the other day when my almost three year old and almost five year old (both wearing pants even!) yelled "WE WANT BELL PEPPERS!!! BELL PEPPERS ARE OUR FAVORITE!" while I navigated our cart through the produce section. Yeah bitches, my kids eat vegetables. Hell. My kids BEG for vegetables. I have got this motherhood thing LICKED I tell you.<br />
<br />
And then there was today. <br />
<br />
Breakfast. Homemade Granola (hot stove, slaved over it). Whole milk yogurt, I buy it unsweetened so that I can add just a little bit of locally sourced honey. Seasonal fruit, sliced up into child friendly sizes. I'm not immune to the hype. I try to be THAT mom. Plus this is my favorite breakfast. There is pretty much nothing I would rather eat in the morning than a big pile of cut up fruit with some yogurt and granola on it. In fact I remember eating pretty much this exact breakfast while growing up and LOVING it. My mom making granola in the big "convent" pan (so called because she bought it from a nun's garage sale) is one of my formative memories. I guess I didn't realize that I had so much invested in this fucking granola until my kids just flat out refused to eat the stuff. <br />
<br />
More than just refused to eat it. They acted like the granola was poison and that by asking them to eat it I was basically trying to murder them. Plus they were also screaming about how cold they were while simultaneously refusing to put on clothes of any kind. Yeah.<br />
<br />
And then on the way to camp my middle child extracted the liter sized water bottle from his backpack (because they have lost all the "kid" sized water bottles, lost with a frequency and thoroughness that makes me suspect that there is some sort of water bottle black market at camp and that they might be trading them for extra fruit snacks or something) and attempted to fill his sister's water bottle with it which resulted in his lap and car seat being thoroughly soaked. Not just soaked but wet in a very specific pattern which basically screams to all the parents and counselors that I meet on my way in from the parking lot "this child has pissed himself." Plus the extra water ran down into his backpack, which contained his extra set of clothing. So yeah. I dropped a soaking wet kid off at camp. I might have said something to the forlorn teenage counselor like "It's just water, lay him out in the sun or something," before high-tailing it back to my car as quickly as possible. This was one of those mothering situations that would be better handled by not-the-mother.<br />
<br />
What about those other moms? They're doing it so much better. They're not losing their shit over granola and wet pants. They're cool. They put the water bottles in the front seat where the kids can't get their hands on them. Their kids eat their homemade food and say things like "Delicious mother! Might I please have some more if it's not too much trouble." Right? <br />
<br />
Well...wait....so do mine, sometimes. I'm just seeing the wrong sometimes. Because nobody is going to show you the bad times, why would they. They don't want to remember those times so why would they want you to.<br />
<br />
Except that those are some of my favorite times.<br />
<br />
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(adorable picture of my kids, fully outfitted in safety gear ready to enjoy a bike ride with the family)</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YLld3ncyxNk/U-wRmMfDfMI/AAAAAAAAA_4/8q4nj7xZA98/s1600/living%2Broom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YLld3ncyxNk/U-wRmMfDfMI/AAAAAAAAA_4/8q4nj7xZA98/s1600/living%2Broom.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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(adorable picture of my passed out daughter along with a weeks worth of unfolded laundry)</div>
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Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-16055377780836774592014-04-16T12:58:00.003-04:002014-04-16T12:59:19.403-04:00Happy BAWG-day.<div class="MsoNormal">
Run the
Mile Day was always the worst day in Gym Class, which is saying something
because me and Gym Class didn't have very many good days. I dreaded Spring and the onset of “Presidential
Fitness” season. Pretty much my whole
relationship with the President from ages 10-18 was a seething resentment of
his fitness tests, with the mile being the absolute worst. I
remember exactly one of my “mile” times from High School, 18 minutes. I “ran” that 18 minute mile in electric blue
Doc Marten boots, which I had convinced my gym teacher that year (one of the
few that seemed mildly sympathetic to my plight as a hater of gym class) that
they had good arch support and non-marking
soles, which meant that they met the minimum requirement for gym shoes. They also weighed about 3 pounds apiece.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My brief
experiences with running were so negative that for most of my life the words “me”
and “run” could not exist in the same sentence unless it read something like
this “I hope that nothing deadly ever tries to chase me because I don’t run.” I couldn’t escape from it though. I was surrounded by people who not only ran,
but seemed honestly to enjoy it. I found
myself frequently surrounded by super fit mega-athletes while I knit by the
sidelines waiting for my life-partner to finish whatever running event he had
signed up for. I found myself doing
crazy things like scrubbing mud out of running shoes and then strapping them to
the roof of our truck so that they might possibly be dry when I had to meet up
with him at the 30 mile aid station during his latest ultra-marathon. Instead of feeling like the awkward,
unskilled teenager in gym class I found that I was just one more member of a
crowd of people who were out enjoying themselves. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
super weird thing is that they all seemed to think I belonged there too. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
About 7
years ago I was camping with my family up in the Keweenaw Peninsula of Upper
Michigan. Manimal (my husbeast)and his
eight year old daughter were participating in a two day, three race running
festival and I was along for the ride.
One of the events was a uphill 5K, where the finishing line was on the
top of a mountain (a Michigan mountain…so you know, a big hill), and Isis was
going to run with her Dad so I figured that if I walked I could meet them at
the top and we could hike down together.
This was a small festival, and most of the people running were of the
super-fit variety. There were a few
spouses doing the same thing I was, but
I was definitely the last person on the trail.
Not halfway up the mountain I met the front runners (who had just
sprinted up a mountain and were now jogging back down, just for fun). I remember the first person to pass me. He had a short beard, long hair, a baseball
cap to keep the sun out of his eyes, very typical “trail runner,” looking
dude. “Hey good job!” he called out as
he passed me. He was long gone before I
could correct his misconception. He
thought I was in the same race he was!
Silly running man, can’t he use his eyes and see that I am OBVIOUSLY not
a runner? The second runner passed me a
few minutes later “Looking good! You’re
almost there!” he called as he passed me.
Silly, silly runner man. I almost
called out to him “No! You’ve got the wrong idea. I’m just meeting my boyfriend up at the top
of the hill, I’m not running this race!” but of course he was out of
earshot. The third runner passed me “Way
to go!” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What are
the chances that these three super runners who had just run.up.a.damn.mountain
could possibly all make the same ridiculous mistake? They know what a runner looks like don’t
they? How could they possibly assume
that I’m running the same race they are?
I’m WALKING obviously and am so far behind everyone else. I’m just out for a stroll in the woods. Silly runner dudes. Except….wait…I am on the same trail that they
just ran on. I am going to end up in the
same place that they just did….and then I’ll come back down again, just like
they did. So…huh…I guess I am KIND OF
doing the same thing that they are. That’s
weird. And…who would know what another
runner looks like better than another runner?
If they have made the mistake of assuming that I’m in the same race as
they are, then maybe….I am in the same race that they are? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The seed
had been planted.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next
week I tried to run around one of our local nature centers…and it pretty much
sucked. My mouth dried out. My legs hurt.
I got kind of dizzy….but I kept on doing it a couple of times a week until
I force myself through two grueling 13 minute miles. I got pregnant that fall. For medical reasons I was told to knock it
off with the high-impact exercise while I was carrying the baby, and then I
found that life with a newborn was crazy and complicated…and became pregnant
with my second and third in fairly quick succession and all in all it was six
years before I could “get back” to running.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had a
much greater success with my new found identify as “A person who can run if she
wants to,” the second time around. For
one thing I knew I could do it, and for another I started slow and let myself
build up to it, starting with short intervals and building up my endurance
gradually. Shocked I found that I was
enjoying myself. It was still a long
time before I could say the sentence “I’m a runner,” without some sort of
qualifier like “I’m a KIND of a runner,” or “I’m TRYING to be a runner,” or “I’m
a very SLOW runner.” </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nPOxK7mFm3w/U061_IpJFtI/AAAAAAAAA9E/LIvLIXUoBV4/s1600/036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nPOxK7mFm3w/U061_IpJFtI/AAAAAAAAA9E/LIvLIXUoBV4/s1600/036.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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(Stacia and I on the Beach after the Legend 5 mile)</div>
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I ran my
first post-baby intervals in March of 2012, when my daughter was 6 months
old. Since then I have run countless
5ks, 2 (or 3?) 10ks, 6 half marathons and 1 full marathon. I also started a “club” called “The Warrior
Goddess Training Academy” for women who want some support to accomplish their
fitness goals, which now has over 330 members all over the country. That club was started a year ago today. Happy
Anniversary my Badass Warrior Goddesses.
You are all amazing and inspire me everyday.</div>
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(Holding 80 pounds of children wearing my medal from my first half marathon and my first marathon)</div>
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Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-12637712381648159002012-10-06T09:29:00.000-04:002012-10-06T09:29:33.907-04:00Project! Wonder Baby HeadbandHere's the thing about babies: they look like babies. You pretty much can't tell a boy from a girl unless their parents do something pretty obvious to "brand" them, like put them in a onsie with a picture of a baseball bat and the words "Momma's manly little sportsman," on it. Now that I am the mother of a girl child, one who is the recipient of hand-me-downs from two older brothers, I frequently find myself correcting well meaning strangers in the grocery store who compliment me on my "handsome little guy."<br />
<br />
So yes, I could dress her in pink and slap one of those flower headbands on her, that would make her look like she's part of a centerpiece, or an extra from "Attack of the begonia headed babies, but I would prefer to bring her up as the Amazon Princess she is. <br />
<br />
The Wonder Baby Headband:<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6fbvaS-gy0U/UHAvj_vexwI/AAAAAAAAA38/b5U2tNTLRAg/s1600/034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6fbvaS-gy0U/UHAvj_vexwI/AAAAAAAAA38/b5U2tNTLRAg/s320/034.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
You will need, some scraps of red and yellow fabric.<br />
Some sort of double sided fusible interfacing such as wonder-under (a very small scrap)<br />
Approximately 10 " of 3/4" or 1" elastic.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uy-QNa4X1rY/UHAusju59RI/AAAAAAAAA3c/TofYr4kMkEA/s1600/006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uy-QNa4X1rY/UHAusju59RI/AAAAAAAAA3c/TofYr4kMkEA/s320/006.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
Cut a five pointed star out of the fusible interfacing and iron it onto your red fabric. (Yes, my scissors have cheetah print handles, because I am punk rock like that)<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hnEyfLb2FpI/UHAu9LLfH1I/AAAAAAAAA3k/eSEY_C8dvlE/s1600/009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hnEyfLb2FpI/UHAu9LLfH1I/AAAAAAAAA3k/eSEY_C8dvlE/s320/009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Cut out a tiara shape from the yellow fabric, on a fold so that you have one less seam to sew up later.</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NFlC_NHRnjI/UHAvM0_w7CI/AAAAAAAAA3s/-spk41Ev4QA/s1600/011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NFlC_NHRnjI/UHAvM0_w7CI/AAAAAAAAA3s/-spk41Ev4QA/s320/011.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Attach the star with a satin stitch (tight zig zag, directly over the raw edge).</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3IxeT2kMlwM/UHAvdaPo3LI/AAAAAAAAA30/pMqow5UIoFE/s1600/012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3IxeT2kMlwM/UHAvdaPo3LI/AAAAAAAAA30/pMqow5UIoFE/s320/012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Making sure that the star is on the inside, sew a seam across the TOP ONLY, leaving the ends open so that the finished headband can be turned right side out.<br />
<br />
And stick the elastic into the open ends, sew one side (tuck the raw edges inside for a clean edge), try it on your baby for a good fit, and then sew the other side.<br />
<br />
Ta-Da! No more well intentioned strangers mistaking your Amazon Warrior for a boy....and no ridiculous flower that might cause you to lose her in a meadow or florist's shop.<br />
<br />Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-19565659143294742052012-03-03T11:33:00.004-05:002012-03-03T11:50:19.666-05:00Yet another "sorry I haven't posted" in awhile post.<span><div style="text-align: left;"><span >I was going to reconcile my "mega list" of new year's resolutions from last year, but even I got bored half way through it. (46 pass/54 fail) Looking back on my aspirations for last year did stir up a couple of thoughts...firstly that I miss writing on the blog, and secondly that my life has actually changed quite a bit in the last year. Some milestone was passed, and although I can't really articulate exactly what boundary it marked, I feel like I've ended up on the other side of something.</span></div></span><div><span ><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span >So last year, well, for one thing, I had a baby. </span></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cta3sRcHo4E/T1JKXJmr1_I/AAAAAAAAAzE/1FDF77wgvaA/s320/061.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5715712638662203378" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><span >And for another my first babies turned into people.</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xsC-yUKZpm4/T1JKXhwpHII/AAAAAAAAAzQ/QomeqgdhDpU/s320/013.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5715712645146418306" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></div><div><span >I also worked at a real, not self-employed, job and gave up my studio. This could seem like a failure of sorts, but curiously I am very content. I have carved out a space for creativity in my very busy life, and it is a small space, but it is there. </span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >I make no commitments to visit this blog more often...I've found that the only way to keep your head above the water in this river of motherhood is to go with the flow. Don't fight, just try to steer a little.</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >Ragnar...mother of many.</span></div>Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-91705524292027944402011-07-28T18:18:00.002-04:002011-07-28T19:21:32.126-04:00Because it was there....Every once in awhile I get a crazy notion about doing something from beginning to end. You know, like in the olden days when men were men and women were really tired all the time because there was no "Diego" to turn on during dinner prep, and laundry took all day and was a full body work out with the great possibility of third degree burns. I got one of these notions a couple of weeks ago when I realized that some of the straw that we'd used to mulch our garlic crop last fall, had sprouted and that along with all the tasty tasty garlic there was a fair quantity of wheat popping up. "Hmm..." I thought to myself. "Hmmm....I wonder how much wheat you need to make a loaf of bread?"<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N1eIvfCjtko/TjHhE4LyR_I/AAAAAAAAAx4/eJQPr4e0nQo/s1600/001.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N1eIvfCjtko/TjHhE4LyR_I/AAAAAAAAAx4/eJQPr4e0nQo/s320/001.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634532082734745586" /></a>More than I managed to gather, that's for sure. I understood the basic mechanics of threshing, you lightly crush the seed head to release the "chaff" and then you shake it to bring all the loose stuff up to the top and the seeds fall to the bottom. I vaguely remembered something called a "winnowing" basket from anthropology class, which was basically a big flat loosely woven basket that you would shake around so that all the wheat could fall out. Since I wasn't processing a lot of wheat I figured I could make do with whatever I had in my kitchen...in retrospect, it's probably easier to process A LOT of wheat, and the small amount that I was dealing with would be considered the waste.<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QJOm5Z_hLkE/TjHhET8q4YI/AAAAAAAAAxw/1L7XCuB9ldo/s1600/004.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QJOm5Z_hLkE/TjHhET8q4YI/AAAAAAAAAxw/1L7XCuB9ldo/s320/004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634532073007669634" /></a>Pretty huh? Just like on the beer bottle labels?<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mrq-YXuVHCY/TjHhDo8DLXI/AAAAAAAAAxo/5sT4kKzK_D0/s1600/005.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mrq-YXuVHCY/TjHhDo8DLXI/AAAAAAAAAxo/5sT4kKzK_D0/s320/005.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634532061462343026" /></a>And yeah, it worked pretty much like that...I used the "rubbing it between your hands" method for releasing the wheat berries , and the "blowing on it lightly over a kitchen sink" method for "separating the wheat from the chaff" (an adage which I now feel uniquely qualified to over use). If you have about three hours of time to devote to the production of a small quantity of wheat berries, and you are resigned to the fact that your final product will have a fair amount of straw left in it, then yeah, I'd say it worked pretty well. Towards the end I got a bit more efficient with my technology, using a flat plate, a round bottomed bowl and kitchen strainer with widish holes, for successive winnowing.<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XcXT62LavHg/TjHhDOyXSbI/AAAAAAAAAxg/zEAHy8VMSZw/s1600/007.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XcXT62LavHg/TjHhDOyXSbI/AAAAAAAAAxg/zEAHy8VMSZw/s320/007.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634532054442396082" /></a>And here's what I have. An eight ounce jelly jar full of wheat. Wheat like I can go and buy by the scoopful out of the bulk bins at the co-op...whoo hoo! My best option for grinding it is probably our little coffee grinder, so I guess it's a good thing that I don't have much. What to do with this precious stuff? <div><br /></div><div>This is how my great notions usually end. "Well...as romantic as it is to think of times gone by, I'm sure happy I live in the 21st century, and not the 18th. Isn't it lovely that spinning wool can be a hobby, and that if I don't feel like knitting I don't have to worry about my family having cold feet in the winter?" Sometimes you just have to do something to find out why it's better to let other people do it for you...people with big machines.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ragnar...21st century girl.</div>Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-9261493314587661692011-06-04T15:53:00.002-04:002011-06-04T16:32:11.247-04:00An ode to my adopted state...<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hbBJTZKA0OI/TeqN3eBDDcI/AAAAAAAAAwA/Yid2I82i19k/s1600/008.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hbBJTZKA0OI/TeqN3eBDDcI/AAAAAAAAAwA/Yid2I82i19k/s320/008.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614455869560524226" /></a>(chives, growing on my back porch, I got my first harvest off of these puppies back in March!)<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>I overheard a conversation at the farmer's market this morning that badly made me want to intervene, although I ultimately decided that walking away was better than butting in with an "Actually, I know more than you" attitude. However, I've been thinking about it off and on for the last couple of hours and I've decided that this is an appropriate forum for rebuttal.<div><br /></div><div>The farmer's market in question was one of the few local markets that allows wholesalers to sell their wares, meaning that you can buy a peach there in May. I don't disapprove really, I'm happy to see small companies with an outlet that allows them to compete with the huge chains, and I'm pleased to see people supporting them. If you can't buy local, then at least buy from a local, right?</div><div><br /></div><div>The conversation I overheard was between two market shoppers and went something like this:</div><div><br /></div><div>"You didn't get that peach here did you?"</div><div>"Oh yes, but I'm sure it was grown in California or someplace."</div><div>"Oh! Because I was going to say! That's amazing."</div><div>"No, no, of course not. We live in Michigan. Nothing grows here! You hear about these 'localavores' but they're living in central California and places like that!" (I have to confess, the "know-it-all" tone is probably what was getting to me) "I mean, you can eat local in Michigan if you want to, but you'd be eating lettuce and radishes!"</div><div>"Ha, ha, yes I guess so."</div><div>"I came out to the market last week looking for strawberries, and there wasn't a single one to be found! I think they must be very late this summer, I'm sure there were strawberries here last year." </div><div><br /></div><div>We were at a very crowded market, the third or fourth week that they had been open, on the tail end of a cold and lingering spring...and it's true, there weren't too many local veggies to be seen. (I also overheard another woman complaining that there was no "fruit" available) The local eats were there though, tucked behind flats of garden starts, and bouquets of hot house flowers. There were hot house tomatoes and peppers. There were hoop house strawberries. There was asparagus, rhubarb, cucumbers, zucchinis, seed potatoes (that were for planting, but looked way more edible than the ones I bought at the "real" store last week), lettuce, spinach, green onions, and more herbs than you can shake a stick at. There was also every type of meat you could wish for including fish and shrimp (yes! local shrimp, in Michigan!) and lots of prepared pastries, and breads etc.<br /><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-09lcQ7oVtWw/TeqN24d_IbI/AAAAAAAAAv4/QJZuDj0VZAk/s320/007.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614455859481354674" />(My back porch lettuce, and a Michigan grown pineapple...which has barely stayed alive for the last two years, but god-damn it, it's a pineapple and I'm proud of it)</div><div><br /></div><div>Rather than butting into a private conversation I thought I would just mention it here:</div><div><br /></div><div>ACTUALLY! Michigan has the third largest crop diversity in the country. Just about the only thing you can't grow in Michigan is Bananas, although I'm sure someone is working on it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Which is not to say that I don't eat my share of out of season produce. I have Washington apples and California grapes in my kitchen right now. I buy bananas like they are going out of style, because my picky kids will eat them. I have some overly firm, underly tasty supermarket strawberries sitting on my counter right now, because The Destroyer practically jumped out of the shopping cart begging for them, but you can bet that in a couple of weeks when they are actually in season, that I will be buying them by the flat load, eating them by the handful and turning them into jam and ice cream.</div><div><br /></div><div>It just broke my heart to hear my adoptive state maligned as a place where "nothing" grew. I couldn't let it go...so, lady, wherever you are, I hope that when Michigan peaches are in season later this year that you can get your hands on a couple. You'll probably fall for the California peach scam again next year, when you haven't seen a peach in months and they're sitting there looking all perky and miraculously unbruised in the grocery store, but at least you'll know what you're missing.</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Gk6v7ASntd4/TeqN2Uz6i2I/AAAAAAAAAvw/AIRXIph-UfU/s320/004.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614455849909652322" /></div><div>(some pretty flower I bought to liven up the container garden...pretty huh? Some Michigan farmer grew it for me)</div><div><br /></div><div>Ragnar...mama first, then pirate, and then adoptive Michigander.</div><div><br /></div><div>PS: Stay tuned for more "scratch that" from scratch vs. store bought posts in the near future. Next up: Mayonnaise.</div>Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-39064699641262073902011-04-19T17:12:00.002-04:002011-04-19T17:52:17.700-04:00Scratch That...Hummus.There are a few things that I've been making from scratch for as long as I can remember...okay, two things: bread, and hummus. It's no coincidence that they go REALLY well together.<br /><br />If your family is like our family than the tiny little $5 a pop hummus tubs that they sell in the grocery store are a joke to you. We could finish off one of those in about 10 minutes and look around for the next one. Plus, Five Bucks? For Hummus? Are you kidding me? It's bean paste for Goddess' sake. Then you can go on to the other reasons to make your own: the store stuff is slimey, and they fill it full of weird crap (sundried tomatoes? seriously?).<br /><br />To make hummus you need:<br /><br />A good blender or food processor. I specify good blender because this is a pretty thick paste and it stresses the motor on the lesser models. I have personally burned out the motor on two $30 blenders making hummus.<br /><br />Chick peas, also known as Garbanzo Beans (which always makes me think of Gonzo from the Muppet Show). We favor "La Preferida" brand, which is frequently shelved in the "Mexican" section. It comes in big fat 29oz cans which makes a decent sized batch.<br /><br />Tahini. This could possibly fall into the realm of "special ingredient requiring a separate trip to the grocery store" if you have a slightly less exotic pantry than I do. It's also the most expensive ingredient in the recipe, at about $6 a jar. If you happen to live in a neighborhood with a Middle Eastern grocery store, buy it there because it'll be cheaper, and come in a bigger jar. It doesn't spoil quickly as long as it's refrigerated, so even if you don't use it that often, you won't lose out on your investment. Tahini is a seed butter, so when you buy it it will have about half an inch of separated oil on top, like natural style peanut butter. When I first open a jar I pour the entire contents into the food processor or blender to remix it, and then pour it back in to the jar. If you refrigerate it after that the oil will emulsify in the fridge and it shouldn't separate back out (if it isn't so throughly mix it will tend to separate). You don't even have to clean the blender, you just make a batch of hummus right on top of the tahini dregs.<br /><br />Garlic.<br /><br />Lemon Juice.<br /><br />Olive Oil.<br /><br />I sometimes add a dash of toasted sesame oil to punch up the sesame flavor. If you stir fry you probably have this. <br /><br />Notice I don't have measurements on any of this stuff. That's because I am too lazy to measure. This is very much "to taste" and you can easily adjust things as you go.<br /><br />So...go get all that stuff. Then:<br /><br />Drain the chick peas, and throughly rinse them under cool running water. I rinse all canned beans, and (although I haven't done a side by side comparison) I firmly believe that it cuts down on "wind" the next day. Let that sit in the sink and drain for a minute while you peel the garlic, one clove, two if you're brave, three if you don't have any friends and don't want any.<br /><br />Add the garlic, about a tablespoon of olive oil, two or three tablespoons of tahini and two or three tablespoons of lemon juice to your blender and give it a good chopping. When there are no more big chunks of garlic add about half your chick peas. Adding them all at once clogs the blender. If the paste is too thick to blend, add water until it's thin enough to blend smoothly. This is a good time to do an initial taste test. I almost always add more tahini and more lemon juice at this point (and if you want a roasty toasty tasting hummus, a dash of toasted sesame oil is delicious...I think, although their are puritans in my household who do not agree). Then throw in the rest of the chick peas and (if you need to) more water to thin it out. If you are making hummus in a blender it will be a little thinner, in a food processor chunkier and thicker...personal preference as to which you like better. When you like the consistancy, then you can salt to taste and (if you must) add any junk you want, like chives or bacon bits or whatever the hell they put in those store tubs of hummus.<br /><br />I don't add very much olive oil. I think a bit is great to improve the texture, but why add more oil than you have to? If you like really creamy hummus then you can, of course, add more oil.<br /><br />I estimate this recipe to cost about $2.80 or so. $1.50 of that is the chick peas (so if you are a "boil your own from dry" kind of person the cost would be much less), and I'm (over) estimating a $1 worth of tahini, with about $.30 worth of pantry staples. If you use the big can of chick peas you'll end up with a tub of Hummus that is about two or three times bigger than the slimey stuff in the deli case, and the whole process takes about 15 minutes. This used to be my potluck staple, along with a store bought bag of pita chips, but I was at a pot luck last year where half the people brought hummus and the other half brought brownies...a good potluck in my opinion! <br /><br />Ragnar...mmmmm...Garbanzo-licious.<br /><br />PS If any of you have hummus making tips or favorite add ins (blech!) please comment! Just don't suggest that I peel the garbanzo beans because that's just flat out not happening.Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-90966008465656953442011-04-17T16:20:00.002-04:002011-04-17T16:55:17.657-04:00Scratch that...When The Destroyer was born, I didn't step foot in my kitchen for about 4 months. He was an..ahem...intense newborn. He was a constant nurser who barely slept, and Manimal was working long days trying to get our house renovated so that we could move back in (see "<a href="http://www.houseofstraw.blogspot.com">the other blog</a>" if you missed the story of our renovation). He hated his car seat and would scream from the second the door opened and he saw the offending object, until we arrived at our destination and he was reconnected with his boob. Grocery shopping was not high on my list of fun things to do, and the few times I did manage to get fresh food in the house it would inevitably spoil before anyone got around to cooking it. Breakfast and lunch were whatever snack foods I could prepare for myself with a baby in arms, and dinner was "out," where we would eat quickly in shifts so that we could take turns bouncing the baby. Usually I would prop him in place with a boppy pillow, and spread my napkin over his head so that I could eat over him (one handed of course) without staining his onsies with bar-b-que sauce. <div><br /></div><div>We didn't take a lot of time to think of the ridiculousness of this situation, we didn't have a lot of spare moments for intuitive self-reflection. There came a day, though, when The Destroyer learned how to crawl and discovered that there was more to life than boobs and not sleeping, there was...destruction. Manimal was home before 8 o'clock for once, The Destroyer was happily destroying and we (miraculously) had something cookable in the refridgerator. I don't remember what culinary miracle I pulled together, probably some version of "eggs scrambled with whatever we had on hand," which is sort of the signature dish of our house. I do remember that we sat around rapturously eating it, and commenting about what a treat it was to eat in for once. When eating at home has become a big treat, something is seriously out of balance, so we started working on eating at home more often.</div><div><br /></div><div>When we eat out, we don't hit the drive thru at MacDonald's. We eat a lot of Thai, Korean, Middle-eastern...generally what's considered to be the "healthier" of the available restaurant options. When I cook at home, I don't spend a lot of time worrying about fat content, or carbs, or really nutritional content in general. We eat a lot of vegetables because we like vegetables, and we eat them with full fat cheese, and in sauces that are laden with salt and oil. None the less, when we made the switch (back) to eating at home instead of eating out, we all lost weight without even thinking about it. Our "food" bill was suddenly about half of what it had been, and this was all without an conscious effort on our part, other than a desire to eat our own food in our own home.</div><div><br /></div><div>When Ragnarbaby came a long some of our "take out" standards slipped back in, of course, as well as a few pantry "staples" that I'm not especially proud of (boxed macarroni and cheese...). I don't beat myself up about it, and I don't really fight with my kids about what they eat. I chop the vegetables up small enough that it's hard for them to spit them out, and I put enough butter on top that they eat it. We get pizza about once a week and sometimes dinner is canned soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. I'd never bought canned soup in my life before having a second child, but something's got to give. When I went back to work things gave a little bit more, and now our "diet" is a mix of simple homemade food, mixed with some things that come in boxes, cans, and bottles. I don't like to go grocery shopping more than twice a month if I can help it, and if it dirties more than two pans, I don't cook it. I do still make some of our staples (chicken stock, mayonnaise etc.) from scratch though, but they have to pass my "test," which is something like this:</div><div><br /></div><div>Do I habitually keep all the basic ingredients in the house, or would I have to go and buy something new?</div><div><br /></div><div>Does making this involve complicated steps, or a lot of time?</div><div><br /></div><div>Can I make it "in bulk" to save time later on?</div><div><br /></div><div>How long will it last in the refrigerator or freezer?</div><div><br /></div><div>Is there a significant cost savings over buying this at the store?</div><div><br /></div><div>If whatever it is fails that little test then it goes on the shopping list and I pay going rate for whatever it is.</div><div><br /></div><div>The cost of everything in the grocery store is going up, thanks to gas prices and other economic factors, so there has been a fair amount of discussion in the "blogosphere" about making from scratch. Of course I can't sit idly by while other people offer advice, so I'm going to do a series of posts about things that I've found it to be worth making from scratch...you're on the edges of your seats I'm sure.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ragnar...full of good intentions.</div>Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-39320938330920248472011-04-15T20:15:00.004-04:002011-04-15T22:15:35.828-04:00Mommy Brain...Some think tankey folks came out with a study a couple of years ago showing that "mommy brain" is a myth, and that women with children are just as smart as they were before they had them. I didn't read it of course, but I remember clicking "like" on facebook when someone else (a mom friend, who also presumably didn't read it, because who has that kind of attention span really) posted it. I do "like" the idea that I'm just as smart as I was before I started this wild roller coaster ride that is motherhood (or as I like to think about it, preventing my children from killing themselves), but all personal evidence points to the contrary.<div><br /></div><div>Today I arrived home to find two concerned pollsters standing in my front yard, cell phone in hand, waiting for the police to show up at my house because I had left my front door standing wide open when I packed up my children for a trip to the grocery store. "Do you live here?" one of them asked me as I pulled into the driveway. "Uh...yes." I answered, opening the doors of the minivan and releasing the hounds. "Well, uh, we called the police because your door was wide open, and we were afraid you might have been robbed." "Oh!" I waved away her concern nonchalantly, "I'm sure that was me, my children are very distracting." She raised her eyebrows at me, and motioned for her partner to call the boys in blue and tell them that there was no emergency, just a brain-fart by a mother of two. Then she asked if I might want to hear about the millage (for the police no less, those pillars of society that might even manage someday to save me from myself). While she politely gave her talking points about how even with the new millage my property taxes would probably go down, my eldest grabbed on to the knees of her jeans and rocked back and forth growling "I am a baby jaguar! I am a baby jaguar." If nothing else I think he demonstrated that it IS possible for a woman to be so distracted by her children that she might walk out of her house with the door wide open.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lest you think this was some sort of aberration, let me assure you that this was simply the latest in a long line of mommy moments.</div><div><br /></div><div>There was the time that I came out of the grocery store to find that I had left the side door of the mini-van standing open.</div><div><br /></div><div>There was the time that I came out of the coffee shop to realize that I had not only left my keys in the ignition of my van, but had in fact left it running.</div><div><br /></div><div>There was the time that I left my purse in the back pocket of the stroller parked in our front yard...overnight.</div><div><br /></div><div>Not to mention the fact that I can't wrap my reading mind around any plot more complicated than "have you met my hunky boyfriend, he's a werewolf!"</div><div><br /></div><div>I can only imagine the hijinks that will ensue when baby number 3 is born in September.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, whoever you are, think-tank guys (or more likely defensive mothers), I appreciate the credit, but I beg to differ. I'm not saying that I won't recover those lost IQ points when my kids are...oh say...married, but for the moment, I am blaming my lack of smarts on mommy brain.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ragnar...proud owner of one mommy brain</div><div><br /></div><div>PS Manimal insists that I add that while I was proofreading this post I was holding Ragnarbaby in my arms while he simultaneously riffled my wallet and chewed on a ballpoint pen. </div><div><br /></div>Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-84861209357201680672011-01-19T11:14:00.005-05:002011-01-19T12:04:29.283-05:00Odd years are good years....edited version.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; "><table id="posts" class="posts" style="text-align: left; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); width: 1209px; border-collapse: collapse; clear: both; background-color: white; "><tbody><tr class=" selected"><td class="title" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; padding-top: 4px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; vertical-align: top; border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); width: 774px; cursor: pointer; "><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; "><div class="entirePost" style="display: inline; ">I don't know why, but in my own personal numerology I've always had</div></div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; "><div class="entirePost" style="display: inline; "></div><div class="entirePost" style="display: inline; ">a thing for odd numbers, and double </div>numbers, so 2011, ending in a </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">double odd...I'm expecting good things. Literally expecting as it turns </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">out.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; "><div class="entirePost" style="display: inline; "><br /></div></div><div class="postContents" style="text-align: left;margin-left: 23px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">In my eternally optimistic little mind as I read through the glossy </span></span></div><div class="postContents" style="text-align: left;margin-left: 23px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">brochure advertising the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">benefits of the</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">IUD I had selected as my "let's </span></div><div class="postContents" style="text-align: left;margin-left: 23px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">not be surprised again, shall we?" birth control </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">method, I simply looked </span></div><div class="postContents" style="text-align: left;margin-left: 23px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">at </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">the large number under the "effectiveness" rating and thought to </span></div><div class="postContents" style="text-align: left;margin-left: 23px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; "></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">myself:</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">"Wow! What a big number." As it </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">turns out, any number less </span></div><div class="postContents" style="text-align: left;margin-left: 23px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">than </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">100 is </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">not that big. As with any pregnancy, it boils down to a simple </span></div><div class="postContents" style="text-align: left;margin-left: 23px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">either </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">or </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">equation. Either it works or it doesn't. Either you're pregnant or </span></div><div class="postContents" style="text-align: left;margin-left: 23px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">you're </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">not.</span></div><div class="postContents" style="text-align: left;margin-left: 23px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; "><br /></span></div><div class="postContents" style="text-align: left;margin-left: 23px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">I am, as it turns out. And really how could I not be? It is an odd year after </span></span></div><div class="postContents" style="text-align: left;margin-left: 23px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">all. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">2007 began the Epoch of the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">Destroyer. 2009 brought us the </span></div><div class="postContents" style="text-align: left;margin-left: 23px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">beginning </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">of </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">Ragnarbaby's Reign, a title which he is going to have to give </span></div><div class="postContents" style="text-align: left;margin-left: 23px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">up </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">to his </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">younger </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">sibling at some point, and now in 2011, of course, why </span></div><div class="postContents" style="text-align: left;margin-left: 23px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">not? Let's </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">have another </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">one!</span></div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; "><div class="entirePost" style="display: inline; "><br /></div></div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; "><div class="entirePost" style="display: inline; ">Which means some slight alterations to my 2011 plans.</div></div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; "><div class="entirePost" style="display: inline; "><br />1. Plan, and do activities with my children, all of them.</div></div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; "><div class="entirePost" style="display: inline; "></div>2. Write more, watch less. Unless I'm breastfeeding a newborn. Nothing </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">gets you through those first awkward weeks of breastfeeding like a lot of </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">mindless television.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">3. Buy music, lullabyes mostly.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">4. Do a pull-up.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">5. Subscribe to a magazine. My "Mothering" subscription finally ran out....</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">maybe I'll re-up.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">6. Schedule "studio time." HA!</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">7. Publish three knitting patterns. A baby hat, some longies and a </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">diaperwrap maybe?</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">8. Eat something I've never eaten before.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">9. Make curtains for the living room, so that the neighbor's can't see us </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">walking around in our pajama's day after day.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">10. Reupholster the goddamn dining room chairs. On second thought, why </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">bother, they'll be covered in spit up.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">11. Yell less. Yes, a very good idea.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">12. Journal.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">13. Get more involved with "the farm." Things that don't involve much </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">bending.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">14. Plant something in the planter boxes on the back porch.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">15. Cook with Isis. Or maybe just ask Isis to cook.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">16. Go camping...or not. Maybe send the boys out camping with Manimal.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">17. Make time to spin. Or not.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">18. Make something out of wood. Or not.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">19. Read a book that someone else recommended...as long as it doesn't </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">require more than 2 braincells because that's all I can find while under the </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">influence of "mommy brain."</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">20. Write letters to my mother...hysterical letters.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">21. Brush and floss. </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">22. Make a household budget...make sure it includes money for a maid </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">service.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">23. Put some money out of each paycheck into a savings account...so that </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">we have money for diapers.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">24. Shop local.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">25. Keep up with the push-ups.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">26. Drink less...because you're pregnant!</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">27. Take the kids for nature walks...or waddles.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">28. Figure out a way to get both of the little ones on the bike...nope. Don't </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">bother with the bike for another couple of years.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">29. Visit someone out of state (not my parents)...sooner rather than later.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">30. List something for sale on Etsy.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">31. Keep in touch with my brother.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">32. Hang closet rods.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">33. Give presents.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">34. Be deliberate about sugar.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">35. Get a tattoo.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">36. Clear off the top of my dresser.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">37. Settle Ragnarbaby into a "big boy" bed, also known as "making room </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">for the new small human."</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">38. Get camera fixed...since grandma and grandpa will murder me if they </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">don't get regular photo updates of their new grandchild.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">39. Get better at taking pictures.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">40. Sing...lullabyes.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">41. Balance the bank account.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">42. Go to a concert.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">43. Weave.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">44. Get in shape a round shape. Become a Warrior Fertility Goddess.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">45. Use the phone to keep in touch with far away people. </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">46. Laundry. Don't let it eat the house.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">47. Practice swimming.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">48. Preserve food.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">49. Chore schedule...make one. Make sure it involves everyone else doing </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">all the chores.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">50. Go to an improving lecture.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">51. Explore the idea of writing for a local news outlet...perhaps a "Women </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">with stupid numbers of children" advice column.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">52. Try to appreciate the "boyness" of my boys...and hope like hell that </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">this one is a girl.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">53. Write the birth stories, both of them. Or rather, all three of them.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">54. Try to be less bossy...no, try to sound less bossy while still organizing </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">everyone else to do the things that I am unable to do.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">55. Practice jumping rope...nope. Don't. </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">56. Clutter....just don't do it.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">57. Be serious about "stuff," what I need, what I want and what I can do </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">without, and remember that babies really prefer to play with plastic bags </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">and electrical cords and there is no reason to fill the house with plastic crap.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">58. Experiment with savory pies.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">59. "Run" (or walk really fast) a 5K. Or waddle one.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">60. Continue with book binding experiments.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">61. Clear out the backyard enough that I'm not worried about the kids </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">playing out there.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">62. Mural a wall in the house...maybe not.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">63. Eat more fish...but not too much.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">64. Make some kind of shoe...a baby shoe?</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">65. Read a non-fiction book that is not about gardening or food, or about </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">other people's ideas of how to raise children.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">66. Read with the first born.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">67. House friendly knitting storage...think of something. Or just shove it </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">in a closet and take it back out in two years.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">68. Dance.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">69. Do more gleaning with the food bank folks, but bring a nice sturdy </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">stool.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">70. Go to a play, take one of the kids if possible.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">71. Install kitchen drawers or engineer having them installed by someone </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">else, and also shelves and other organizing infrastructure.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">72. Go to art openings, at least once in awhile.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">73. Cook outside.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">74. Send birthday cards.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">75. Invite people over for Sunday Brunch...and them make them cook it.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">76. Buy a sewing pattern from an independent designer.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">77. Trade or sell unused craft supplies.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">78. Make a tool kit for the house so I don't have to borrow a hammer </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">from Manimal every time I want to hang a picture.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">79. Make a sewing kit for the house so I don't have to run to the studio </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">for every minor repair.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">80. Find out more about curing leather.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">81. Make a monthly meal planner and make sure it includes a lot of </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">"freezeable" things.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">82. Make a stuffed animal toy for Ragnarbaby.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">83. Eat local meat. Lot's of it. Making babies requires protein.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">84. Take the boys to a parade.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">85. Host an out of town guest, before September.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">86. Find "sweet tooth" stuff that's not 100% bad for you.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">87. Dry clothes in the air instead of in the dryer....this might involve </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">rigging a clothesline.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">88. Keep 0n working on the "mostly plants" part of Micheal Pollan's </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">food advice.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">89. Keep track of my blood pressure.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">90. Wear more dresses...empire waistlines might be a good idea.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">91. Beg, borrow or steal to acquire a pair of really awesome boots, </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">because I'm going to need all the help I can get feeling beautiful and </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">kick ass.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">92. Use human powered transportation whenever possible...preferably </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">powered by a human that is not me. Maybe we can get Manimal a </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">rickshaw.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">93. Get a calcium supplement and remember to take it, and hell, </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">why not throw some pre-natal vitamins on the list.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">94. Buy flowers for myself whenever I feel like it, even if I can't </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">exactly afford it...and also whatever the hell else I want that's just </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">for me.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">95. Draw portraits of my children...all of them.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">96. Make "mixed CD's" for friends, and hope that they make me </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">some in return. </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">97. Forage.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">98. Knit from the stash.</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">99. Try not to buy anything new (with reasonable exceptions like </div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">art and underwear).</div><div class="postContents" style="margin-left: 23px; line-height: 18px; ">100. Have a garage sale...before September.</div></td><td class="type" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; padding-top: 4px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 0.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 18px; vertical-align: top; border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); text-align: right; "></td><td class="type" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; padding-top: 4px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 0.5em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 18px; vertical-align: top; border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); text-align: right; "></td><td class="comments" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; padding-top: 4px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 1em; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 18px; vertical-align: top; border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); white-space: nowrap; text-align: right; "><a target="_blank" class="link" href="http://domesticpiracy.blogspot.com/2011/01/odd-years-are-good-years.html#comments" style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 204); vertical-align: top; ">1 comm</a></td></tr></tbody></table></span>Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-33647512498632733812011-01-02T16:14:00.004-05:002011-01-05T18:22:10.812-05:00Odd years are good years....I don't know why, but in my own personal numerology I've always had a thing for odd numbers, and double numbers, so 2011, ending in a double odd...I'm expecting good things.<div><br /></div><div>Some of the things that weren't reflected in my big "look back" at last years list o'possibilty, were the major changes that happened in our lives last year. Among other things: I've got a job (part time, but still more than my few hours a week at the yarn shop), and The Destroyer is in school. There were major advancements from Ragnarbaby as well, of course, moving through the whole spectrum of babyhood, from inert lump to walking/running/climbing toddler.</div><div><br /></div><div>So without further blithering, here it is: the 2011, super fantastic, extra fabu, nifty neato list of things that it would certainly be great if I could accomplish:</div><div><br /></div><div>1. Plan, and do activities with my children.</div><div>2. Write more, watch less.</div><div>3. Buy music.</div><div>4. Do a pull-up.</div><div>5. Subscribe to a magazine.</div><div>6. Schedule "studio time."<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></div><div>7. Publish three knitting patterns.</div><div>8. Eat something I've never eaten before.</div><div>9. Make curtains for the living room.</div><div>10. Reupholster the goddamn dining room chairs.</div><div>11. Yell less.</div><div>12.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Journal.</div><div>13. Get more involved with "the farm." </div><div>14. Plant something in the planter boxes on the back porch.</div><div>15. Cook with Isis.</div><div>16. Go camping.</div><div>17. Make time to spin.</div><div>18. Make something out of wood.</div><div>19. Read a book that someone else recommended.</div><div>20. Write letters to my mother.</div><div>21. Brush and floss. </div><div>22. Make a household budget.</div><div>23. Put some money out of each paycheck into a savings account.</div><div>24. Shop local.</div><div>25. Keep up with the push-ups.</div><div>26. Drink less.</div><div>27. Take the kids for nature walks.</div><div>28. Figure out a way to get both of the little ones on the bike.</div><div>29. Visit someone out of state (not my parents).</div><div>30. List something for sale on Etsy.</div><div>31. Keep in touch with my brother.</div><div>32. Hang closet rods.</div><div>33. Give presents.</div><div>34. Be deliberate about sugar.</div><div>35. Get a tattoo.</div><div>36. Clear off the top of my dresser.</div><div>37. Settle Ragnarbaby into a "big boy" bed, also known as "reclaim the sleeping space."</div><div>38. Get camera fixed.</div><div>39. Get better at taking pictures.</div><div>40. Sing.</div><div>41. Balance the bank account.</div><div>42. Go to a concert.</div><div>43. Weave.</div><div>44. Get in shape. Instead of "become a babe" like last year, this will be known either as "become a goddess" or "become a warrior princess." I'm undecided so far.</div><div>45. Use the phone to keep in touch with far away people. </div><div>46. Laundry. Don't let it eat the house.</div><div>47. Practice swimming.</div><div>48. Preserve food.</div><div>49. Chore schedule...make one.</div><div>50. Go to an improving lecture.</div><div>51. Explore the idea of writing for a local news outlet.</div><div>52. Try to appreciate the "boyness" of my boys.</div><div>53. Write the birth stories, both of them.</div><div>54. Try not to be so bossy.</div><div>55. Practice jumping rope.</div><div>56. Clutter....just don't do it.</div><div>57. Be serious about "stuff," what I need, what I want and what I can do without.</div><div>58. Experiment with savory pies.</div><div>59. "Run" (or walk really fast) a 5K.</div><div>60. Continue with book binding experiments.</div><div>61. Clear out the backyard enough that I'm not worried about the kids playing out there.</div><div>62. Mural a wall in the house.</div><div>63. Eat more fish.</div><div>64. Make some kind of shoe.</div><div>65. Read a non-fiction book that is not about gardening or food.</div><div>66. Read with the first born.</div><div>67. House friendly knitting storage...think of something.</div><div>68. Dance.</div><div>69. Do more gleaning with the food bank folks. </div><div>70. Go to a play, take one of the kids if possible.</div><div>71. Install kitchen drawers or engineer having them installed by someone else.</div><div>72. Go to art openings, at least once in awhile.</div><div>73. Cook outside.</div><div>74. Send birthday cards.</div><div>75. Invite people over for Sunday Brunch.</div><div>76. Buy a sewing pattern from an independent designer.</div><div>77. Trade or sell unused craft supplies.</div><div>78. Make a tool kit for the house so I don't have to borrow a hammer from Manimal every time I want to hang a picture.</div><div>79. Make a sewing kit for the house so I don't have to run to the studio for every minor repair.</div><div>80. Find out more about curing leather.</div><div>81. Make a monthly meal planner.</div><div>82. Make a stuffed animal toy for Ragnarbaby.</div><div>83. Eat local meat.</div><div>84. Take the boys to a parade.</div><div>85.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Host an out of town guest.</div><div>86. Find "sweet tooth" stuff that's not 100% bad for you.</div><div>87. Dry clothes in the air instead of in the dryer....this might involve rigging a clothesline.</div><div>88. Keep 0n working on the "mostly plants" part of Micheal Pollan's food advice.</div><div>89. Keep track of my blood pressure.</div><div>90. Wear more dresses.</div><div>91. Beg, borrow or steal to acquire a pair of really awesome boots.</div><div>92. Use human powered transportation whenever possible.</div><div>93. Get a calcium supplement and remember to take it.</div><div>94. Buy flowers for myself whenever I feel like it, even if I can't exactly afford it.</div><div>95. Draw portraits of my children.</div><div>96. Make "mixed CD's" for friends, and hope that they make me some in return. </div><div>97. Forage.</div><div>98. Knit from the stash.</div><div>99. Try not to buy anything new (with reasonable exceptions like art and underwear).</div><div>100. Have a garage sale.</div>Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-30204984917247093132011-01-01T16:38:00.002-05:002011-01-01T17:24:40.342-05:00Good-bye, old year that was.<div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; ">For the last couple of years I've gotten in the habit of making a list of 100 goals/ambitions for the new year. I don't call them resolutions because there's not really any resolve. I guess it's a "power of positive thinking" thing. Why not start the year off with a huge amount of gung-ho? </div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; ">The only problem is that I do feel a need to check back, oh, right about now, and see how I did.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; ">So....here it is: the list of things that I did or did not accomplish in 2010.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; ">Duh-dun-dat-dat-dun!</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >1. Remember that your children are CHILDREN, cut them some slack, woman.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Hmm....definitely need some work on this one.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >2. Organize the crafting supplies so that they are no longer in danger of swallowing the house. Just because it's a horizontal surface that doesn't give me a license to pile yarn upon it.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Uhm...no comment? I do periodically haul bins of yarn over to the studio, but it always come creeping back.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >3. Follow <a href="http://www.michaelpollan.com/">Michael Pallon</a>'s simple rule about eating: Eat Food, Not too Much, Mostly Plants. I will be concentrating a lot on that middle one: not too much!</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Still working on this one, but getting better.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >4. Do as much shopping as possible at the <a href="http://www.lansingcitymarket.com/">Lansing City Market</a>, which is a walkable 2.5 miles from my house.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Utter fail. I think I've been there maybe 3 times this year.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >5. Write Petoh's birth story.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >6. Write Ash's birthstory.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail, fail. Whoa, not doing so good.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >7. Work in the studio.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Well, I did work in the studio...maybe even half a dozen times.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >8. Keep track of knitting and sewing projects, with an eye towards finishing things and not starting new projects until others are finished.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>I do think I've made progress in this area. I haven't brought (too) much new yarn into the house, and I've finished a couple of projects that have been dogging around for awhile.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >9. Strength train.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Well, I didn't start it until about three weeks ago, but I have been doing my push ups and sit ups. </div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >10. Finish the Red/Orange spinning project.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px;">DONE! Unequivocal success. Take that 2010.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >11. Eat locally...Michigan is my local and doesn't that make me lucky.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>I think we've done pretty well with this lately, although I've been backsliding recently because, well, it's winter, and I still like broccoli.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >12. Make To Do Lists. Somehow I seem to get a lot more done when I can put an efficient little check mark next to something.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Not so much. </div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >13. Take the kids to plays or concerts, or cultural somethings or other.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >14. Work with Abby, Katie and Brian on the knitted stuff into clay project.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >15. Also the quilt blocks into tiles project.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >16. Landscape the yard...at least plant some grass or something.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >17. Write an artist's statement and resume.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >18. Get the Viking Hat Pattern edited and ready for distribution on Ravelry.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >19. Make soap.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail, fail, fail, fail, fail, fail...man. This is...uh...very inspirational in terms of getting my shit in order for next year.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >20. Teach a class.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px;">Done! Thanks Thursday night ladies.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >21. Take a class.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>I'm pretty sure I did take at least one class this year.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >22. Find out about selling things at the farmer's market.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >23. Make a chore schedule.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >24. Go camping.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >25. Make computer time more constructive. Updating facebook status and playing solitaire, not constructive. Updating blog (assuming it's a real update and not a glorified facebook status) and editing knitting patterns, constructive.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail, fail, fail, fail...</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >26. Commit to cloth diapers. I've gotten a little lax about using cloth, since we keep a packet of disposables around for nighttime (and when we are running errands and when I'm too lazy to wash diapers, or worse yet when I'm too lazy to take the clean diapers out of the laundry basket...it's a vicious cycle).</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Not only have I failed at this, but since returning to work I've switched almost entirely to disposable...the ones we have are just too worn out for an active toddler, and our washer doesn't get them clean enough. Stinky leaky diapers...yeah, sorry mother earth.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); ">27. Make clothes for the kids.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >28. Make or acquire some dress up clothes (the imaginative kind, not the formal wear kind) for Pete.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >29. Get involved with some of the amazing stuff Lansing has to offer.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >30. Knit a sweater for myself. I finished my first "for me" sweater last year. It's boxy and not that flattering, and made from itchy wool (handspun!) but I LOVE it and I wear it everyday. I think knitting one sweater for myself every year is a great goal. <a href="http://www.girlfromauntie.com/patterns/shop/rogue/detail.php">Rogue</a>, I'm looking at you.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>I'm wearing it right now. It's not the Rogue, but I have cast on for the Rogue. Average of one new sweater for me each year? I can handle that.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >31. Bind books.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Yes! I've learned my first binding stitch and I've made notebooks out of old coffee cups and postcards.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >32. Edit the toy collection with an eye towards imaginative play, and less banging.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px;">Well, they just bang with whatever is left, be we have culled the toy collection down to a manageable mess...and the awesome play kitchen that Grandpa built sees a lot of use, and only some of it is as a jungle gym.</span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >33. Keep up with laundry, both mine and the boys.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >34. Alternatively transport. Walk, Bike, Bus and only as a last resort Minivan.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail, fail. We haven't managed to work out a bike transport system that works for both of the boys. I have high hopes for next summer though.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >35. Become a babe. This is my amusing way of saying "get in shape." Somehow it's more motivating to say that I worked on becoming a babe, than that I remembered to exercise.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>I have lost 5 pounds in the last month and a half.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >36. Get rid of clothes I don't wear.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Success!</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >37. Cook with Ragnarson. Ever since the day I came downstairs to find him elbow deep in flour and broken eggs, I've been meaning to compile some "easy" recipes to make with him. Banana bread and guacamole have lots of smashing.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >38. Etsy store...everything, banner, name inventory. Sheesh.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >39. Go to spinning guild meetings. This means babysitters.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Well, if I had been smart and said "meeting" instead of plural I would be able to say "success!"</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >40. Preserve food. I am looking for a dehydrator if anyone has one gathering dust in their closet.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Success! I dehydrated pineapple, fruit leather, and tomatoes. I froze broccoli, kale and green beans, rhubarb, peaches, raspberries and blue berries., and I canned tomatoes, jam, apple and pear butter and peaches.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >41. Reupholster the dining room chairs.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >42. Weave.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >43. Write. There was a time when this space was used for witty little essays instead of lame excuses about why I wasn't writing in it. I'm not promising to blog more but I'm acknowledging that I miss doing some more "conscious" writing. Facebook, you have made me lazy.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail, fail, fail.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >44. Trillium Gallery...Kalle will sell my stuff, if I get her stuff, so I have no excuses.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px;">I am sorry to say that the Trillium Gallery has become another casualty of Michigan's economy. We miss you Kalle!</span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >45. Get something ready for entry into <a href="http://www.artprize.org/home">Art Prize</a></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >46. Plan crafts to do with Ragnarson, Play-doh, watercolor, etc.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >47. Make an effort to get out of the house.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >48. Ween Ragnarson off of Youtube. We don't have a television, but somehow I've fallen into the trap of letting my kid sit in front of the idiot box. It's harder to make supper with a toddler underfoot yes, but I'm getting sick of listening to "I want TV" temper tantrums.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail, fail, fail, HUGE fail...now we're streaming Netflix and we've all turned into zombies.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >49. Be deliberate about acquiring new things, clothes especially. I would like to stop supporting a disposable culture.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Moderate success. I had to buy some work clothes, but I mostly like the one's I have. I think the only off the rack clothes I bought this year were tights and underwear.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >50. Edit the photos on Flickr, there is a lot of crap that can just be deleted and a lot of new photos that haven't been uploaded.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >51. Encourage Ragnarson the Younger to nap in the carrier as opposed to on my lap. When he sleeps in the carrier, I get work done, when he sleeps on my lap, I watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns on Hulu.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>What a difference a year makes. Ragnarbaby regularly takes two hour long naps in bed, and has been know to sleep through the night...miraculous.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >52. Get better at taking photos of my work, process, completed objects. The whole sheebang. Exploit Kat's generous offer of help.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail. The camera has been broken for about six months.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >53. Tackle the toy storage problem. This will probably require making or buying some sort of shelf system.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Moderate success. Plastic bins it is.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >54. Make a cover for the duvet so that it doesn't get all funky like our last...several.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >55. Grow some houseplants. We need more oxygen in here.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>We now have two, three if you count the bean that Pete planted at a friend's science museum birthday party. Better than nothing.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >56. Post projects on <a href="http://www.ravelry.com/">Ravelry</a>, <a href="http://www.craftster.org/">Craftster</a> and <a href="http://www.instructables.com/">Instructables</a>. A curved piecing tutorial would probably be a good place to start.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail, success, success.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >57. Enroll Ragnarson in some sort of active class or activity like swimming or gymnastics.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>We are starting swimming for both kids on Saturday. Better late than never.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >58. Eat less sugary crap. Quality Dairy donuts, I'm looking at you.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Lately, pretty good. Over the whole year? Not so much.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >59. Experiment with new grains in cooking. Rice, I like you, but you are starting to get boring.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Success! Millet, barley, and qinuoa have all graced our table.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >60. Read longer, more complicated stories to Ragnarson.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>We did really well at this in the beginning of the year. Pippi Longstocking, Stewart Little, Henry Higgins...but then Ragnarbaby got mobile and bedtime became more complicated. </div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >61. Defeat clutter.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>How about moderately contain clutter by stuffing it in a closet or drawer?</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >62. Sew curtains for the house.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >63. Hike a half marathon.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >64. Be more active in seeking "finishing" work (I sew people's sweaters together for them) and more timely about returning the work that I take on.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >65. Use the Postal Service for more than paying bills. Doesn't everyone love to get mail? Send birthday cards.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail, fail, fail, fail....sigh.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >66. Salad, it tastes good. Eat more of it.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Success!</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >67. Dye.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Success...walnuts, onion skins, random black berries that I thought were elderberries but I don't think really were and sumak have all imparted their pigment into my yarn this year.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >68. Refresh my knowledge of accounting. I think keeping a ledger for home and for Manimal's business would go a long way towards sorting out our money problems.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Did really well at this for Manimal's business for the first six or so months...then...not so much. Still haven't implimented a household accounting system.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >69. Brush. Floss. Seriously.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Seriously, fail.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >70. Barter with my artist friends. I'd like to have more work on my walls by the people I love.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >71. Use an apron.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Moderate success.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >72. Invite people over for dinner. I'm specifically thinking of other couples with children, since I'd like Manimal to get to know the parents of some of Ragnarson's friends.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Success.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >73. Make a "kitchen inventory" shopping list. What do we like to have on hand. What are we out of? Where do we buy it? I think this will cut down on impulse buying.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>I started this, but never finished.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >74. Make "parents night out" a priority.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >75. Schedule some "unschooling" time with Ragnarson.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >76. Work on self promotion.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >77. Make a realistic and complete household budget.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >78. Stick to the budget. This is going to require some help from Manimal, but I think he's on board.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >79. Make time to "play" with Rat Girl. I spend too much time utilizing the "free babysitter" aspect of living with a 12 year old, and not enough on "having fun."</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >80. Sew clothes for myself. I have some nice wool that wants to become a skirt, I'll start there.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >81. Write a children's story.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >82. Sketch.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail x 9.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >83. Find a place to garden. I am getting very frustrated with the community garden, because the poaching is out of control.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Huge success. Some wonderful friends bought a small farm and we're involved with a gardening co-op. Really hoping that I can be more involved this year now that Ragnarbaby is walking and won't be strapped to my back.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >84. Stencil something.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Not just fail, but what the hell was I thinking? Stencil? What is this, Martha Stewart?</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >85. Gaze adoringly at my babies.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Success! I love those guys.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >86. Build a wood oven in the backyard.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >87. Drink wine.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>As we speak...</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >88. Have a girls' night out.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>And it was fantastically super fun, and I need to have more of them.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >89. Start to rebuild the book collection. It was decimated during the remodel.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >90. Go to the dentist for a cleaning.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Success! Still haven't got my cavities filled, but, babysteps.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >91. Start or join a knitting group.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Do Thursday night classes count? Sorta?</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >92. Make a quilt for one of the beds in the house, maybe Ragnarson's so we can have our quilt back.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px;">How about, piece about a third of a quilt?</span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >93. Make a dressform...assuming that my size stabilizes at some point. There was really no point in pursuing this last year, since I was PREGNANT. I did ask Nancy once if I could host a T-shirt and Duck tape party at the shop and she was (at that point) unopposed to the idea. I'll have to make her cookies and ask again. Kyle: I'm totally taking you upon your offer of help.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Done! I even have a shirt halfway tailored on it...of course I'm trying to lose a whole bunch of weight this year...we shall see.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >94. Go to the beach.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Done! And it was fun.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >95. Etch some glassware.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >96. Knit from stash. Documenting stash on Ravelry should help with this.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>I knit from the stash, but I did not document it on Rav.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >97. Set up a mail program such as outlook, so that my website email actually gets checked.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >98. Limit brain rotting activities, such as watching television on the computer and reading crappy novels.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Huge, mega absolute fail.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >99. Find some new things to cook, middle eastern maybe?</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>I've actually gotten less adventurous cooking...BUT we have been eating at home a lot and I have two kids who make that difficult, so if I've come to rely on some version of fried rice or noodles and sauce...who can blame me?</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >100. Make ice cream.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; color: rgb(204, 0, 0); "> </span>Fail.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div>Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-48320078076755468282010-12-24T16:52:00.002-05:002010-12-24T17:12:32.480-05:00Rambling and disjointed rant of a vaguely feminist nature:Remember in the beginning when I didn't have children and my blog updates consisted of these rambling insights into my self-indulgent little world? Indeed I enjoyed a lovely two month period in which this here blog was the number one hit on a google search for the words "self delusionment." That could be because I made up the word delusionment, but never the less: NUMBER ONE!<div><br /></div><div>And it seems that things have settled down somewhat around here, because in between stopping my infant from repeatedly turning the stove on, and my pre-schooler from playing his favorite game "tow truck" which involves pulling his brother around by the neck (but he is a broken car momma!), I have had a few minutes to start thinking about me. The thing that I've been thinking is: man it sucks that none of my clothes fit, that my blood pressure is sky high, that I'm starting to suffer from chronic back pain and that I feel like poo all the time.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I decided to do something about it. I've joined a gym and I've been showing up on a semi-regular basis for a bit of hamster-wheel action on the tread-mill. I've also been counting the dreaded calories and it's ever so slowly starting to pay off. I can fit into my pants again at least.</div><div><br /></div><div>But here's the rant. </div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe it's because I'm a nice mid-western girl who never takes the last cookie, and responds to every compliment with a "poo-poo it's nothing" wave of the hand, but if someone does happen to compliment my (slightly) improved figure, I have caught myself feigning surprise and responding with something trite like "Oh? Well thanks, it must be from chasing after those pesky children of mine." Well...no. It's from doing my sit-ups, and spending an hour on the treadmill every chance I can get away. It's also from skipping those delicious cookies that contain an average of 650 calories per ounce.</div><div><br /></div><div>So...you know what? </div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks! I've been working really hard, and I appreciate it that you've noticed. </div><div><br /></div><div>And you know what else?</div><div><br /></div><div>You should take credit for your hard work too. Own your fabulousness. Don't just take compliments, demand them.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ragnar... is fucking sexy damn it.</div>Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-92228064072675609172010-11-07T10:41:00.002-05:002010-11-07T11:04:26.636-05:00Lazy Sunday morning...The fantasy: a lazy Sunday, no alarms to go off, no children to drop off at school. Everyone gradually waking up after a good night's sleep and slowly making their way to the family bed for a little snuggle time before getting up for some made-from-scratch breakfast to be shared around the table.<br /><br />The reality: Sunday morning. The children are hardwired with some sort of hint-of-daylight sensing circadian rhythm which causes their eyes to fly open at 7:15, and they belly flop into the parental sleeping space. Their motors are set on maximum, recharged by the six hours of sleep which seems to be all they need. The baby grabs his brother's hair. The Destroyer is using his father's (who is playing dead and hoping that they'll eventually give up) face as a stepping stool. After 15 minutes of listening to the parents say things like: "Ow, stop kicking me in the face," "Your brother's ear is not a handle," and "If you can't lay still you have to go back to your own bed," The Baby will get tired of being trampled by his elder, and decide that if the whole family is here in bed, then that means that the toilet is undefended and now would be a good time to get in a little splashing. Reluctantly the Mother rises to shut the bathroom door before collapsing back in bed, thus diverting Ragnarbaby's attention to the dresser, which he systematically empties. Sensing that he is missing out on fun The Destroyer joins his brother to make a nest in the pile of clothes. When the parents still fail to rise, the blankets are pulled unceremoniously from their bed and added to the "fort" which is being assembled in the hallway. Realizing that if she doesn't get some coffee soon, her spawn might not live to see another pre-dawn morning, the mother stumbles downstairs, hampered by her children who have latched on to her nether limbs as soon as her feet hit the floor. "I want trick or treat candy for breakfast!" The Destroyer yells over and over again. <br /><br />Ragnar...hey, we slept in for a whole half hour, right?<br /><br /><a href="http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=BVn&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&&sa=X&ei=UcnWTOG4Oc2nnwf64s3PCQ&ved=0CBwQvwUoAQ&q=circadian+rhythm&spell=1" class="spell"><b><i></i></b></a>Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-25949019034066126792010-10-01T10:46:00.003-04:002010-10-01T11:13:12.583-04:00Ragnarbaby blogs...Hey guys! So...I'm almost a year old now and I thought that I'd just take this opportunity to let you in on some of the exciting new things that have been happening to me lately. <br /><br />Walking. Walking is pretty great, well...maybe not the walking part because that involves a lot of falling down on your butt (diapers are like a built in crash cushion!) but the standing up is simply awesome. I can reach so much stuff! Like the knobs on the stove for instance. Did you know that if you turn the stove knobs that they make a neat clicking noise and then, I am not even kidding here, FLAME SHOOTS OUT OF THE STOVE. It's like having a superpower! Also, I can take food off my brother's plate and boy does he hate that. It's hilarious!<br /><br />I've got a whole bunch of teeth now, 8 all together, and they work really well for biting. I like to use them to rip off chunks of bread that I can stash around the house for later on when I get hungry. I find that a few days of "curing" brings out a subtle earthy flavor. Also, may I highly recommend stale cheerios, if you haven't already had the pleasure. If there's nothing edible around the next best thing to bite is people. You get this instant reaction that is just hysterical! And it happens again and again, it's like...cause and effect or something. <br /><br />I've got to wrap this up, it's almost time for me to chug a whole bottle of milk and then pass out in a puddle of my own drool, but before I go I wanted to clue you in to this amazing thing that I've recently discovered. They're all over the place, but no one seems to understand how much fun they are. They're called "toilets" and they have this hinged lid on them that is great for banging up and down, and then when you get tired of that they're full of WATER. I know right? How much fun is that? And then if you get tired of splashing in the water, there's this handle that makes them go all swirly. I could seriously play with toilets all day long, but Mom, also known as the Fun Police, has started shutting the bathroom doors! I can't QUITE reach that doorknob yet, but I am working on it, let me tell you.<br /><br />Okay, gotta go, there's a bottle of soymilk on the counter with my name on it. <br /><br />Ragnarbaby...pretty much not a baby anymore.Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-54224356423020477132010-09-17T18:25:00.004-04:002010-09-17T18:40:02.557-04:00Want to get a babysitter so we can....Just in case there are any of you out there who haven't had kids yet, I wanted to relate this conversation that I had with another mom today.<br /><br />She was talking about how she's dropping her year and a half old son off at daycare twice a week, and how it's very exciting because one of those days is going to be "just for her." She felt guilty though, because it seemed unfair to her to drop her son off with strangers so that she could live it up without him. The thing that she did while he was in daycare? The fantastically fun thing that she was so guilt ridden about? The thing that she described as her "best day ever?"<br /><br />Going with her husband to the Secretary of State's Office so that he could renew his driver's license. One blissful half hour in the waiting room of the DMV, where she could sit peacefully and knit while her husband read a new book that he'd been looking forward to. Incidentally this was also the special thing that they did together to celebrate his birthday.<br /><br />Which of course prompted me to tell the story of how Manimal and I had recently had to hire a babysitter so that we could go to our insurance agent's office to get a new quote on our home owner's insurance, and how it just felt so great to relax and have a conversation with another grown-up without having to worry about my kids.<br /><br />Then she told me about an a day when she was at her wits end and consoled herself with the thought that no matter how rotten her kid was being at that moment, that she would get some time to herself when she went to her dentist's appointment that afternoon.<br /><br />This is what passes for fun in the world of parents with children under four. Renewing your driver's license, getting quotes on new insurance policies and having your teeth cleaned. Whoo hoo! We're living it up now!<br /><br />Ragnar...party animal.<br /><br />PS...Don't forget that Talk Like A Pirate Day is only two days away.<br /><br />PPS...If you "like" me on facebook you'll be entered in my random crap give away. http://www.facebook.com/pages/Domestic-Piracy/124629280904163?ref=tsRagnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21708001.post-8642869742523780452010-09-14T17:29:00.002-04:002010-09-14T17:42:32.804-04:00Please listen carefully as our options have changed...Hello, you have reached Ragnar's phone. Obviously I'm not available or I would have answered the phone. I'm probably having a massage or a walrus placenta facial, or possibly cleaning out three years worth of grime that has accumulated since the birth of my first born son. It will undoubtedly be days if not months before I can be bothered to return your call, so please amuse yourself with our automated phone system. I patterned it after the one that I've spent so many happy hours with at <a href="http://www.bcbsm.com">Blue Cross Blue Shield of Michigan.</a><br /><br />If you are calling from my son's school to report the fact that he has bit, punched, sat on or otherwise molested one of the other children, you are a big fat tattle tail and you can press one.<br /><br />If you are the parent of some child from my son's school who is calling to report that your angel was bruised, offended or somehow <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">inconvenienced</span> by my child, let me be the first person to tell you that the world is a terrible unfair place...and you can press two.<br /><br />If you are calling to compliment me on my son's knowledge of and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">proficiency</span> with American slang and profanity then you can fucking press three.<br /><br />If you are calling for any other reason, then hang up and call my real phone number because I never check these messages, it's a false account that I set up when I dropped The Destroyer off at his first day of school.<br /><br />Ragnar...has to confess that her first born has so far exhibited nothing but exemplary behavior at his school.Ragnarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08001389119817161549noreply@blogger.com0