The One With Frames

OMG! I'm blogging! After an over 2 year hiatus. A lot has happened in that time. But here's a quick lowdown of the last 2+ years:

Remember that house that my husband told me we purchased back in 2011? Well... it was a foreclosure and was pretty much stripped and in need of some serious TLC. Long story short, we've made some improvements.

 My boy is now 7, over 75 pounds, in the 99th percentile for height and weight, and is a brainiac.

My girl just turned 5 and I'm quite certain her sole purpose in life is to be entertained and will stop at nothing to make people herself laugh.

My mother in law moved from Oregon to live with us for almost a year. I will not speak of the details but... she no longer lives with us.

My mother passed away in June of this year, and I've been dealing with her estate and her trust (that we didn't know she had) and probate ever since.

And between work-related high school drama bullcrap stress, major personal stress, and just the challenge of being a fulltime working mom and wife, my body and health are really not happy with me.

But.. more about the above (except for the thing of which we do not speak) later.

For now... one of the ways that I manage stress and find perspective is by drinking heavily being all crafty and brilliant.

When my mother passed away, my sister and I were left with a ginormous hoarded mess.  I don't think losing a parent is ever easy or pleasant, but if you know me, you know that I am ridiculously happy most days and prefer to find the good in all situations. Now I'm not sure if what I'm about to tell is really the good in this situation, but in a very round about sort of way, I'm willing it to be good. (I haven't really started this little endeavor, so .. the jury is still out.)

My grandfather Leroy Greene was an artist. He made jewelry, sculptures and paintings, primarily. (I'll write more about some of that stuff later.)  My mother's home had a vault (yes, a vault, as in steel door, all cement, almost impossible to destroy, unless you're a family of rodents who always find a resourceful way). A few years back, my mother entered into an "arrangement" with a gallery owner in Billings, MT to sell some paintings. Apparently when he came to Corvallis to haul away these paintings, he wasn't interested in the frames they were in. So the vault (and home) were loaded with probably 75 or more empty frames. Some are super nice... I took a bazillion back home to Colorado with me, and left a bunch in the home for the estate sale company to deal with.

Side note. If you are ever in a situation where a family member passes and there is WAY more stuff than anyone ever wants, and you just don't have the time or desire to deal with it, do yourself and your family a favor and enlist the services of an estate sale company. Amaze-balls.

Back to the bazillion frames.

Frames.

Frames.

OMG.

Frames.

Just so many of them.

And I realized that they really have no value. What was I thinking bringing these damn things home with me? I really should have left them for the estate sale company. Grief, frustration and enormous emotional  trauma will make you do crazy things.

But as anyone with any crafty sense will do, I turned to Pinterest.

Stayed tuned for frame projects. Oh yes. There will be many of them.

Merry Christmas, Friends! Bwaah-haa-haa-haaaAAAAAA!

Pork Corn

For Easter, our dear friends Jen & Michelle bought us this:

I'm sure it started as a joke. But... I brought it to work and made a bag. It smells like chemical, which is pretty gross. It tastes like bacon heaven.

There are two sad endings to this story. First, there are only 3 bags in the box. There are pregnant women in my office, and I'm compelled to share with them. They both love it as much as I do. (Now, don't judge me when I say this, but the salty bacon-y taste is so delicious, I actually ripped the bag all the way down the middle and licked the salt off the bag.)

Thanks, Jen, for documenting this:

Second, all 3 bags are now gone.

It only took the first bag to begin the conversation about, if microwave bacon pop is so delicious (even despite the fact that there is not even a hint of "real" bacon included in the ingredients; in fact, it proudly boasts "artificial bacon and butter flavors"), then how much more delicious would homemade popcorn made in real bacon fat be?

Well... this Mother's Day, I found out.  And let me just tell you that this:

+

=

If you have never tried this, oh my, you are in for a treat.



Nesting

I love the spring. Fresh air. New blooms. Birds happily singing their springtime songs. The smell of freshly mowed grass.

Walking in my front door, I was admiring my flower baskets. I happened to notice a few random sticks and tufts of grass and mini-tumbleweeds on my patio below one of the pillars. I looked up, and saw the beginnings of a bird's nest. I tugged on Jeffrey's shirt and pointed out the nest.

One of the things that I love most about being a mom is the joy and excitement in sharing in the new discoveries of my children. Jeffrey was so excited! He exclaimed, "Mommy! I've never seen a bird's nest before!"

Fast forward to this morning.

We kept the windows open a crack all night. It's such a blessing to wake up to that moist, spring air. I got Jeffrey all snuggled on the couch while I went to make breakfast. When I returned, he had an ear-to-ear grin, and lazily said to me, "There's a birdie singing!" Sure enough, the sounds of our resident birdies were filling our home with a happy morning tune.

Downstairs, I peeked out the front window to see how our little bird's nest was coming along. There she was, busily determined to finish her nest. I told Jeffrey to quietly come join me. We snuggled on the living room sofa, watching our friend deliver twigs and grass, and then dancing on top of her new additions until is was just right. And then off she flew again to collect another load.

I sent Jeffrey back upstairs to finish his breakfast. I continued to watch Mama Bird work.

As I watched, I realized that most of the items she was adding to her new home were hard and scratchy. I thought to myself, what do most mommies want for their babies? Soft places to sleep....

Side note: Yes, people. I realize this is a bird. I realize that it is wired to make an appropriate nest/bed for herself and her babies.

But the helper in me was intrigued by this process and I couldn't help but offer her some additional bedding material.

I grabbed a papertowel and began ripping it into long strips. Jeffrey heard and asked what I was doing. I admit, I kind of ignore him for the time being.

When Mama Bird was away, I tip-toed onto to the front porch and placed my little pile of papertowel strips just beneath her nest, and tippy-toed back inside.

No sooner than I had shut the front door and made my way to the window, Mama Bird was back, with a beak full of twigs and grass. She landed on the porch, observing this interesting pile of new material. She hopped around for a while taking it all in. Then, dropped what was in her beak, and replaced it with papertowel.

She came back twice, each time taking all that she could hold, until the strips were gone.

Her nest was by no means finished by this time, but there was a joy in my heart. Pretty cool to know that I helped Mama Bird build a home for her family.

Where you can put that lesson

It has been months. I miss writing. But, time is scarce and the mood to regurgitate the craziness of my mind's wanderings just doesn't strike when a keyboard is nearby.

And while there are so many hilarious moments  (and thoughts) to share, which I'm sure would elicit a few chuckles, if not a couple of belly laughs, I find it incredibly curious that the moment strikes when the topic isn't really something that I'm sure I want to get fully involved in. And by "involved," I do not mean "included." I mean absorbed by; engrossed. 

I believe that in order to live a virtuous life, it's important to be a perpetual student of life's lessons. I have found that for me, specifically, most lessons aren't learned by observation. In order for me to really "get it," I have to be an intimate participant. And sometimes (ok, often) I don't "get it" the first time. But, inevitably, eventually, I will have that illuminating moment when the switch flips and, "Ahhhhhh!!!!" Gotcha.

The spousal unit and I were reminiscing (over some delicious crab and a glass a Cabernet) about the last several years - all the loneliness and pain, and peeling away of our grip, and refining, and praying (and begging and pleading), and trust, and faith, and unknowing, and thrill, and gratefulness, and rejection, and cruelty, and lies, and mystery, and glory, and celebration. And ultimately our receiving an amazing (and impossible) gift of the desires of our hearts, which began with a dream, and then a hope, and then a move to Colorado. I'm reminded of those long nights when I would be jolted awake by God's voice telling me, "Be specific," and asking me poignant questions like, "Do you believe I am who I say I am?" I remember being so thoroughly in tune with God that when He whispered, I answered, "Yes, Lord."

Prior to the move, I worked in an industry (sadly, an industry...) where there was a lot of talk about authenticity and community, but very little in the way of authenticity and community. It affected us. Deeply. And not in a good way. I look back on those years and see clearly where we were blessed - with close friendships which will never be lost, replaced or forgotten, where we could be completely vulnerable and spiritually naked, and be completely embraced and encouraged. We were blessed with the knowledge and experience of God's presence and provision, and the promise that we are more precious than the birds of the air, and we need not worry about what we will eat or drink or how we will be clothed. I look back on those barren years with fondness. Life seemed desolate, but the soil of my spirit was rich. I'm so, so grateful for the lessons learned.

Lessons don't always reveal themselves at convenient times or in comfortable ways. I'll admit that there are times when I want to tell a lesson where it can shove itself.

But then the still small voice whispers shouts in my ear, and I'm reminded that people are watching and I need to be cognizant of my response. (That voice, by the way, is the spousal unit's.)

And then I'm suddenly reminded of the stupid crap that Christians say.

Sorry. That's a bunny trail I'll avoid for this post. (One of these days, I'm going to write a blog about that.)

I'm learning lessons. Lessons that the people we hold in high esteem are faulty, broken people and will ultimately reveal their humanness more often than their humanity. Lessons that conclusions, most often, are something that are jumped to and not arrived upon. Lessons that the miles in someone else's shoes always seem shorter than the miles in your own, until you take the time to review the map. Lessons that any hedge you build around yourself or others will be hurdled on either side. Lessons that they made erasers on the ends of pencils for a reason. Lessons that joy is to be lived, not pursued.

And lessons that the more I learn, the less "the noise" matters.

Boots and Scarves A-Plenty

Looky what I scored:

I pretty much fell in love with these Born Concept boots the moment I laid my eyes on them.

The spousal unit and I went shopping at the 16th Street Mall in Denver for our anniversary. I love this time of year because there are boots and scarves a-plenty! I swear, I wish I had a closet that looked like this:

I'm a sucker for boots and scarves. They're kind of my signature fashion statement. I wear a scarf almost every day from fall to spring - unless it's warmer than, say, 70 degrees. At that point, wearing a scarf in 70 degree weather seems a little ridiculous. Unless, of course, the scarf looks like this:

 Scarves are so versatile.

This is one of my favorites:

Green: my favorite color.  And I love it with this New York & Company trenchcoat (which I scored the day after Christmas last year for about 75% off.) What a bargain!

**Side note: The buttons were not sewn well onto the jacket. Four buttons have fallen off...  Luckily for me, button-sewing is a skill I learned way back in the day. Fallen buttons do not sway me. However, I have yet to sew one button back on. So, now my jacket pocket is full of buttons. While fallen buttons do not sway me, my lack of motivation does. There. I said it.

Here's another scarf I love:

RED! (With a green jacket, of course.)

I'm passing on these girly tendencies to my daughter, who flips out at the sight of shoes and little hair things. I have a feeling I'm going to be very poor when she is a teenager. I hope the spousal unit can score another job to support her impending shopping habit.

An Ordinary Autumn Eve

This:

This:

This:

 And this:

...makes for a really nice evening.

The Challenge

The beginnings of a nice quiet evening, and perhaps a new blog entry:

But, then.... bedtime fail.  Snuggled with Eden for over an hour after bath and stories. I finally had to turn it over to daddy to work the snooze magic.

And now I'm too tired and unispired to write anything worth while.

I've been neglecting

Yes, it's true. I've been neglecting my blog. Super busy, relative uninspired to write about things that will be completely public, and, if I'm honest, a tad bit of laziness. Mostly the latter two, though.

So why do I write now?

Well... I realized that I might have a mild case of OCD. Those of you who know me well are probably cracking up right now thinking to yourself (or possibly out loud to your computer screen or iPhone), "YOU JUST REALIZED THIS NOW???" Let me explain myself.

First of all, no... I always knew this. But I didn't realize the extent. I know I'm anal about organization and cleanliness, etc.  Here's the dealio. I just might need therapy.

My spousal unit bought a house. I mean to say, WE bought a house. Another house. That's two houses. One in Oregon. One in Colorado. Two. Who knew? I was in Vegas sitting at a slot machine with my buddy Michelle from Oregon (man, I love that girl) when I got a text from the spousal unit that said, "We bought a house!"

No, I had not seen it. But, delightfully, because he knows me SO WELL, I trust him to make such decisions without me. And he exercised this freedom of choice. (By the way, he did very well. So, I really am not being sarcastic.)

In his excitement over moving out of our tiny little upper condo, he and his brother decided to pack a few things.

I came home to not the usual cramped living/dining/kitchen area scattered with toys, blankets, pillows, crumbs and crumpled up paper. No. I came home to a showroom. Most anything that could be seen with the naked eye was packed. It looked awesome.

And then I went into the master to change (because I made a mad dash from my car to the front door during a monsoon, which... if you know anything about the monsoon season in the mountains... needs absolutely no explanation whatsoever). The bedroom was spotless. And so was the bathroom.

And then it hit me. My. Stuff. Was. Touched.

My. Stuff. Was. Moved.

Some. Of. My. Stuff. Was. Packed.

Anxiety.  And a lot of it.

It was then that I realized I needed help.

So I asked my spousal unit to pour me a drink.

And all is better.

YAY! We're moving! (Well... maybe. We have our inspection today. We'll see.)

It has been a while since I last blogged (or "glogged," as I just typed), so I suppose it's time for an update. In all honesty, it isn't that I haven't been inspired to blog. I've just be so, so, so busy. And when I finally have the time, it's at the very end of the day when we've finally managed to get both kids in bed (and they've finally stayed) and asleep, and I need to decompress a little. As a result, the blog suffers. So sorry to my faithful readers (all ... what... 25 of you?).

I know your next question. I get it all the time. "What has you so busy?" Well, for starters, my job is crazy-go-nuts. I mean... for me, it's in a good way. Because I seriously love what I do. I know for many, that is just incomprehensible. Most people only dream of loving what they do. But, truly, I found my perfect match in my career, and by the grace of God, He spoke to me about a job about 10 months ago, and on a whim I applied, completely forgetting that I did such a thing, and then through a series of events that only God could have orchestrated, He handed me a gift practically on a silver platter. (I still haven't blogged about that whole deal. One of these days I might... It's an awesome story!)  All that to say, I freakin' love where I am, what I do, and the people (waddup, 7's!) I get to interact with almost on a daily basis... Wait... yep. Pretty much on a daily basis. (See, my phone or email is constantly going off... Such is the life of an HR girl for a fire department, which, duh, is a 24-7 operation. So, if you haven't already put two and two together, this pretty much means that there is something going on at all hours of the day and night every day of the week. Lucky me, I'm often right in the middle off it. Which... kinda rocks. Just sayin'.)

I'm super excited about what this next year will bring. We've embarked on an accreditation process which is a very involved, time consuming process and will pretty much scrutinize our organization from the inside out. Since my department (HR) is new as of June 2010, there is a lot of work that needs to be done. That takes up a lot of my time. In addition, I'm starting a few new projects and programs to benefit the members of our organization, which I'm super excited about. (No sneak peak!) This, on top of my regular duties, which is the full time job. So... yeah... All that other stuff is work outside of regular work hours.

From the left: Fire Chief, Battalion Chief, and Deputy Chief

I had to share this... This is so how life at the F.D. works. After volunteer academy graduation, a few of us went out to grab a bite. Our phones and pagers are going off all the time, so, of course, everyone has to respond. Here we are, sitting at the table, all the gents are lookin' sharp in their Class A's, and ... the phones get whipped out. It was like this all through the meal. This would never be acceptable anywhere else. I've become one of them.  Cracks me up.

Aristotle the Distracting SQUIRREL!

And here is my office mascot, Aristotle. My friends Jen & Michelle (Hi!) gave him to me for Christmas. He has a whole wardrobe of outfits from Uncle Sam to a Samurai warrior. He's a very wise, philosophical squirrel. And he's very distracting. SQUIRREL!  The Fire Chief doesn't like his name. He tried naming him Sid, but Sid reminds me of Ice Age (Sid the Sloth), so that didn't work for me. I told him if he could come up with something better, we would consider changing his name. So far, he's got nothin'.

And then... I still have a husband, who apparently still likes me because he wants to spend time with me. Weird. And I have two beautiful babies who need their mommy.  Oh, and I still have friends who would like to see me come up for air every once in a blue moon.

So, yeah. I'm busy.

Scott is still working for Ridgeview. I won't comment on that whole deal as some things are in development and I don't want to a) take away his thunder, 2) reveal too much, or c) head off any progress that is being made. But... I will say this: exciting times.



Jeffrey in Keystone

 Jeffrey is such a little man. Oh, my. He is hysterical! He's still as smiley as ever. He's pretty much completely potty-trained (minus the few accidents that still occur, or his just plain stubbornness). Like the time he refused to pee on the potty, and instead peed all over the kitchen floor. This was... 2 days ago. So, I made him clean it up. Now, moms, seriously, don't get all gaspy like I'm abusing him. It wasn't intended to humiliate or anything like that. He peed on the floor, made a mess, and I asked him to be responsible and mop it up. I helped him. But it made a point. And he got it. 

I cannot believe how developed Jeffrey's language is. Sometimes I forget he's only three. The things that come out of this kid's mouth. The other night I was tucking him in bed and we started singing, "Jesus Loves Me." (Ahhhh, warms my soul.)  He stopped and said, "Mommy, I can't see Jesus." I said, "You can't? Why not?" He replied, "Because, he's not here." I said, "Jesus is always with you." Long pause. I asked him, "Where is Jesus?" Jeffrey got a big smile on his face, put his hand over his heart and said, "I can't see Jesus because Jesus is in my heart!" I said, "That's right!" Long pause....

Jeffrey said, "There's a bone next to Jesus."

I couldn't hold that one in. I busted up. Ya know, it makes perfect sense. If Jesus is in his heart (which he takes literally at this age), he's absolutely right that there is a bone next to Jesus.

It's just too good.

And little Miss Eden. What a doll she is! One of our Battalion Chiefs is a good friend of ours. About a month ago, Scott and I took the kids up to Keystone for the weekend to meet up with a bunch of my coworkers while they were at a conference. We had everyone over to our condo one night for some socializing. The BC was watching Eden run around all over and finally said to me, "Who's the mother? She's too cute to be yours." hahahaha  That cracked me up. But he's absolutely right. I don't deserve Eden. She really is too cute for words. There isn't one single day that I don't look at her and think what a gift she is. All those issues from the start of that pregnancy are still so fresh in my mind.

Eden is a character. She is going to be quite the comedienne. She already has perfect timing. And she can keep a total poker face when she's teasing. She loves to play games with us. When she laughs, it's a full belly laugh. She giggles once in a while. She and Jeffrey are very different in that way (and pretty much all other ways). While he giggles and laughs constantly, she is very reserved. It's hysterical to watch.



What a love!

 It's hard to believe she's 15 months. 15!!!! She finally has teeth. That only took over a year. She runs around the house in her little footy-pajamas (which we call her Barbaloot suit - think Dr. Seuss) and I can't believe how much she's grown. But, she's still tiny and adorable. She was huge until about 9 months. Then she started slowing down. She's still about 25 pounds. She's fits exactly into the clothes for her age (12-18 months now). Her hair is all cropped and curly, almost like we had it cut that way, but it is just naturally adorable. She has the bluest eyes and the longest eyelashes... Lucky girl. And when she looks at you with those big, blue eyes, it just melts your heart. What a blessing.

Life in Colorado is grand! We got a ton of snow just before New Year's, so we had a four day weekend to spend sledding and romping in the snow. Such fun!



Daddy & Eden about to hit the hill



Daddy & Jeffrey gaining momentum



The little hill right outside our front door

It's such a stark contrast from life in Oregon. I'm affirmed every day that this is where we were meant to be. Sunny weather. Mountains everywhere. Snow, snow, snow!

We have friends again. Community. People that engage with us. People that invite us wherever(or vice versa) just because, and it doesn't have to be planned out months in advance. We go to coffee and talk. We go for walks. Go to the gym. Go to brunch. Go out for lunch or dinner or beers.

It feels so good to be home.

Really, really good.

Christmas and Running

Christmas cards.

I love sending them. I love receiving them. I don't even mind signing my name 150 times on all the corporate "seasons greetings" cards.

But why, oh why, do I procrastinate so?

I SO love Christmas. I love the music. I love the decorations. I love the food. I love the social gatherings. And now I love the location - where people are actually happy when they shop, and still smile when they stand in long lines at the cash registers. Where there is snow and crisp, clean air, and Christmas lights everywhere.

It really feels like Christmas. I've missed this.

It's hard to believe we're into the second week of December. I saw a sign the other day at a cash register that said, "17 more days 'til Christmas."

And I thought, "Holy Kris Kringle! 17 more days???" Where did this year go?

And next thing I know, I'll be 38.

The good news is, I started running again. Instead of locking myself away for 8 1/2 months to avoid gray skies and depressing rain, and gaining another 10 pounds, I'm actually motivated to get up at 4:45, make it to the gym by 5:00 (and with a massive smile on my face), and hit the treadmill, that is until we start seeing temps above 50 - then I'll hit the trails.

It's crazy to actually feel motivated again. I gotta tell ya. That feels good. It has been a long, long time since I felt that way. I think I lost it within 6 months of moving to Oregon. I'm wearing pants I haven't worn in 4 years. There's a whole section of my closet that will soon be finding a new home with Goodwill. A bazillion pairs of Ann Taylor pants and tops, some of which are hardly worn at all. Practically a whole wardrobe. I'm happy to get rid of them. And while I have a few pairs of smaller sizes, I'm actually really happy I dumped my closet a few years back. I don't want to wear old, used, out of date clothes that I once wore. I want to treat myself to new stuff. Like a little reward. Not in an arrogant way. Just in a, "Damn, it feels good to feel good again" way.

I used to love running. Especially down hill. I always loved getting so much momentum that my legs could hardly keep in front of my body. Weeeeeee!!!!!! I'd spread my arms out like I was flying - and sometimes it felt that way. A massive smile on my face, with the wind drying my teeth out so my upper lip would get stuck. Perma-smile.

Then... I gained 50 pounds over the course of 8 years. And when I tried running I discovered pain in places I didn't even know I had places.

And I cried.

But... I'm running again! Ok... not quite a full run, but I'm jogging at a nice pace. And I'm smiling, too.

Just me. And my iPod. And my breathing. And the rhythm of my steps beating the treadmill, or the trail, or the road.

That makes me happy.

Just like getting my Christmas cards in the mail before Christmas.

Another great website

Ok, not a blog, but freakin' hysterical.

Jen (and all you crazies at 7's) will totally appreciate this:

www.damnyouautocorrect.com

I cannot tell you how many times the stupid autocorrect changed something.

Michelle - I actually had to add "hahahahaha" to my dictionary to keep it from changing to Haitians....

One among many, but I won't incriminate myself here. At least, not again.

Hot toddy

It's cold out! **brrrrrrrr**


But I'm cuddled in a cozy robe by a fire with a hot toddy of hot chocolate with a splash or three of peppermint schnapps in my hands.

Aw, schz-yeah. Good stuff, y'all.

And there was much rejoicing.

And all God's people said....

I surrender

All to Jesus I surrender;

All to Him I freely give;

I will ever love and trust Him,

In His presence daily live.

I surrender all,

I surrender all;

All to Thee, my blessed Savior,

I surrender all.

All to Jesus I surrender;

Humbly at His feet I bow,

Worldly pleasures all forsaken;

Take me, Jesus, take me now.

All to Jesus I surrender;

Make me, Savior, wholly Thine;

Let me feel the Holy Spirit,

Truly know that Thou art mine.

All to Jesus I surrender;

Lord, I give myself to Thee;

Fill me with Thy love and power;

Let Thy blessing fall on me.

All to Jesus I surrender;
Now I feel the sacred flame.

Oh, the joy of full salvation!

Glory, glory, to His Name!

I surrender all,

I surrender all;

All to Thee, my blessed Savior,

I surrender all.

Home

This time change is a bugger. My internal clock tells me to get up at 4:45ish. Fall back means closer to 4:00. Not that I mind getting up before the rest of the world, because in that respect, I actually quite enjoy it. (I'm a ridiculous morning person. It's just the way I roll.) But, I don't really have anything to do. I mean, sure, there are things to do. I could read. But I'm not crazy about reading first thing in the morning. I don't know why. Just not the time when anything will stick. I'd love to work out, but... we're in a tiny condo and, thus, there is no room for a treadmill or elliptical (sadly). My gym is 25 minutes away so I couldn't drive to the gym, work out, drive home, get myself & the kids ready, drop them off, and then get to work in time.

Oh, the dilemma. What to do at 4:00 in the morning?

The good news? It snowed. Not enough to stick to the roads or sidewalk, but the grass and trees are covered, and the early morning light is reflecting off the snow crystals making me feel all giddy. I don't know what it is about snow that I love so much. Maybe it brings me back to my childhood and all the fun we had when it snowed. Maybe it's because I love to frolic.

Maybe it's because I love sweaters and scarves, and getting bundled up nice and cozy. Maybe it's because I love little red noses from the chill of the cold air. Maybe it's because I love the puffs of hot breath that rise from our noses and mouths.

Maybe it's because at the end of the day, I know there's a cup of hot something (coffee, chocolate, soup) that will warm me from the insides. Maybe it's because I love the peacefulness and hush of fresh fallen snow. And if you listen close enough, you can actually hear the flakes hit the ground. Maybe it's because I love looking up into the sky and seeing how far I can see before the individual flakes just blend together. (It's surprisingly far.)

Or maybe it's just because it's beautiful.

Or maybe it's all of it together.

I love conversations in the snow. I love making snow angels. I love making snowmen (or women... or children...or other things). I love snowball fights.  I love the crunch of the snow under my feet as I walk. There's just such a mystery about snow, like it's keeping some secret it's willing to tell if you're willing to listen. 

I'm glad it's here. And I'm glad to be in a place that is guaranteed to see some, rather than just hoping this is the year we might get a day or two.

I really am blessed to be here. Every day still, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude to be just exactly where I belong, amongst people who "get" me, in a landscape that inspires and breathes life into me where before there were empty places left wondering if I'd ever find my way home.

I'm home. It feels good to be here.

Uncreative

I've been writing for 30 minutes, but... just deleted everything. Instead, I think I'll watch a movie.

That's just where I'm at.

Typical Matkovich exchange

This is the demented state of my marriage:
(As copied by Facebook)


Kyra Matkovich:  A new sunrise, a new day, hallelujah! Finding comfort in Jesus today....
15 hours ago via Twitter
Mia White likes this.


Scott Matkovich: Who?
14 hours ago

Kyra Matkovich: Um, Jesus? Creator of the heavens and the earth? Died on a cross and rose on the third day? Savior? Friend? ... No? Nothin'? You need to get your pagan ass to church.
about an hour ago

Scott Matkovich: I am the church, how do I go to myself?
about an hour ago

Kyra Matkovich: You're a jack ass. Go to that.
35 minutes ago

Scott Matkovich: I would like to go to there.
34 minutes ago

Kyra Matkovich: Good thing. You're already there. Jack ass.
34 minutes ago

Scott Matkovich: You're the one who married a donkey, what does that make you? A Jack Ass's wife. How would you spell that anyway?: Jack Asses?
33 minutes ago

Scott Matkovich: Just shut it..stop typing
33 minutes ago

Scott Matkovich: stop
33 minutes ago

Scott Matkovich: st
33 minutes ago

Scott Matkovich: OP
33 minutes ago

Kyra Matkovich: Assi... Assies? I don't know. But you're supposedly the genius of the family.
32 minutes ago

Scott Matkovich: I reject anything you say...
32 minutes ago

Kyra Matkovich: You are a reject.
32 minutes ago

Scott Matkovich: Yeah, a group of Assies - You should teach engrish.
32 minutes ago

Kyra Matkovich: you're unpossible.
31 minutes ago

Scott Matkovich: I am going to make you stop typing with my mind.
31 minutes ago

Kyra Matkovich: Your mind is so not that powerful.
31 minutes ago

Scott Matkovich: URRRRRRRRR>>>>STOPPPPP
31 minutes ago

Kyra Matkovich: seriously... stop trying.
31 minutes ago

Kyra Matkovich: you have no control over me.
31 minutes ago

Kyra Matkovich: Or my mind.
31 minutes ago

Kyra Matkovich: See?
31 minutes ago

Kyra Matkovich: You're mind is a failure.
30 minutes ago

Scott Matkovich: Way to glorify your Jesus post, honey...
30 minutes ago

Kyra Matkovich: Jesus actually typed all of that.
29 minutes ago

Scott Matkovich: WWJT?
29 minutes ago

Kyra Matkovich: The question is not what would Jesus type. The question is, what wouldn't Jesus type?
29 minutes ago

Scott Matkovich: Just look above, I think you've answered that one...
28 minutes ago

Kyra Matkovich: Exactly. so... shut it. (Jesus says, "Shut it.")
28 minutes ago

Scott Matkovich: You suck
27 minutes ago

Kyra Matkovich: Suck this.
27 minutes ago

Scott Matkovich: You suck times a lot of things plus infinity
26 minutes ago

Scott Matkovich: plus a tiny head and gland damage.
26 minutes ago

Kyra Matkovich: That's the rum talking, huh? Pagan.
26 minutes ago

Kyra Matkovich: You hit below the... throat.... that is so not cool.
26 minutes ago

And, what do I do with this? Share it with friends who appreciate spousal abuse:

Kyra Matkovich --> Dustin Hughes: Want some entertainment? Go to my profile and scroll down to the nice conversation between Scott and I. Good times, y'all. Good times.
37 minutes ago
 Tracy Hughes:  I can't wait! I am just giddy with excitement.. headin' there now :)
33 minutes ago

Tracy Hughes: and once again, you don't disappoint. Well played, Kyra, well played.
29 minutes ago

Dustin Hughes: That was the most brilliant FB exchange between a husband and wife ever!! That is soooooooo Matkovich!!
28 minutes ago

Kyra Matkovich: Tru dat, my grasshoppers. Bow to your sensei. BOW TO YOUR SENSEI!!!!!
16 minutes ago

Listen... do you smell something?

I bought a new shampoo this weekend. I like the way it smells.

Smell is a big deal for me. I have an incredibly sensitive olfaction. (This would explain the highly evolved gag reflex during pregnancy.... The thing of great entertainment for all who witness it.) I hate smelling anything on me. Even if I initially love it, at some point it will cause a headache and I end up doing whatever necessary to wash it off of me. So, it's really nice when I find something (shampoo, lotion, perfume, whatever) that I either can't smell on me at all (because it blends perfectly with my chemistry), or that I enjoy from the moment it's on me until... the end of the day.

This shampoo is one of those smells. I actually pull my hair over my face so I can smell it. I wouldn't do that when anyone is looking, though. And if asked, I would deny it. Cuz that's just crazy.

Side note: I've decided to grow my hair out again. Now that the babes are less interested in pulling the ever-living crap out of it, I think it's safe to let it grow again... That is, if my retarded thyroid lets me.

Funny, I don't have this problem with smells that are not attached to me. Like... a man's cologne, flowers, scented candles, bleach (yes, I like that clean, sterile smell), steaks on the grill... stuff like that.

Although there are smells that I don't care for at all. Like... cheap perfume/cologne (or too much of even the expensive stuff), asparagus pee, dead things, skunk, poop, vomit, or almost any bodily fluids or functions. 

Um.. that took a different turn. Sorry about that.

I don't like the smell of dirty dogs. Why people don't wash their freakin' dogs, especially when they are indoor dogs, is beyond me. Why would you want something in your house smelling like that? On your furniture? On your lap? Ick. I hate getting all chummy with a pooch and then smelling like stank-dog. So... I wash my hands, and then, wouldn't ya know it, the damn dog wants more pets. F.  Why does this happen? If the dog was clean to begin with, this would not be an issue. I hate smelly dogs. Correction. I love dogs. I just don't like their stinkiness.

I hate the smell of cat pee. Especially if someone's house smells like that. Gross. (Case in point: The House of Flowers. Scott, Brian and Shawn can elaborate.)

I'm not a fan of the smell of stale pond water. Rancid nastiness.

Or... musty clothes. Ever left wet clothes in the washer for too long? I don't like that.

Miller High Life is probably one of the most unappealing beer smells ever. It's a cross between skunk and vomit. Like skunk vomit. Yuck.

Ironically, Corona also smells like skunk, but if you squeeze a hefty lime wedge in it (which it should have anyway), it doesn't smell like that at all. And it's delicious. Bonus.

However, I do love the smell of fresh cut grass, pine trees in the mountains and burning logs in the fireplace.

I also really like the smell of my new shampoo.

UPDATE:  I also love the smell of coconut. It always reminds me of the beach... And then I get whisked away in my mind to a happy, warm, sandy place where I fit into my teeny bikini with hardly any suntan lines, the warmth of the sun on my tummy, the sound of waves crashing into the shore, and a tall, dark, handsome native offering me a mai-tai in a thick Jamaican accent. Just sayin'.....

Pooder

Actually, it's Poudre, but that's how you pronounce it. (Ok. I admit. I'm completely immature. It makes me laugh. Why? Because it has "poo" in it.)

Went for a morning hike in the Poudre Canyon. It was good to get a little exercise in fresh mountain air. The weather was perfect - breezy and warm. There were several others out hiking, as well, including a group of 4 with as many dogs, all who had little bells on them. (If you're a hiker, you'll know why they put bells on the dogs, but I couldn't help but think of Santa Clause....which then made me think of Buddy the Elf, which then made me think of my friend Dale, who is Buddy the Elf incarnate. Dale would have liked this hike, especially because these little dogs all had bells on them. The whole scenario made me smile. That's just how my mind works.)

I was made for wide open spaces.

** The pictures were taken with my cell phone, and don't do the landscape any justice. Still not bad, eh? 

Wine trumps ice cream

I was just thinking about how long it has been since I've had ice cream. It's really the only thing I have a sweet tooth for. But it has been a really long time since I've had any. I used to have a bowl at least once a week... or... more....  How sad is this? Well... probably better off. The lack of ice cream consumption is most likely at least partially to blame for shedding some Oregon flabbery. So... I guess in that respect, yea for me.

What I miss in ice cream, I'm making up for in wine. Yum. Not a bad trade.

Welp... That's all I got tonight.