Movin' On Up

We are not homeless!

And even better, we don't have to change wards. Or neighborhoods.

We hadn't spent a great deal of time looking in our development because everything seemed to be more expensive than what we had been paying. So the past two weeks have been filled with driving ten to twenty minutes one way to look at houses in other cities.

Then on Thursday a condo in our development opened up. Bryan emailed about it immediately and we saw it on Friday at noon. We took the application home, filled it out right away, and Bryan emailed it from work. Lucky for us, we were the first ones to apply, which is why we got the condo.

It's very much like where we live now, except that the layout is flipped (reversed?) and it's upstairs, which will be an adjustment. The stairs are part of the condo and carpeted as opposed to outside and concrete like some of the places we looked at, so I can live with it. Also, the walls are kind of a dark gray color and I'm just a little bit worried that it will be a lot darker than where we live now. I prefer to keep the lights off and the blinds open. I'm not sure how well that will work in the new place.

But dark and a place to live sure beats homeless with plenty of sunshine.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go pack.

Wild and Crazy Guy

My brother, sister, and grandma left our house on Tuesday morning to return to California. I loved that they came to visit and was sad to see them go. That same afternoon Bryan's mom, two sisters, and one of his brothers came to stay for a few days. Bryan's mom brought a small notebook for each boy (among other grandma goodies). Peter has been using his to write a story. He dictates and Nana Shari acts as scribe.

The shadowy cover of Peter's new book.

Now, for your reading pleasure, chapter 1:

Once upon a time there lived a cow named Crazy Guy Kukumusu. He lived in a blue house. His mom was named Margot. His dad was named Katrimi. There was a big monster who ate up their house after they moved. Then they found another blue house. Crazy Guy liked to play all the instruments in house. There was a guitar and bass and a piccolo and a microphone. And he had 12 cats, 100 dogs, a dozen fishes & fish tanks. The end.

He's on chapter four right now. I'm curious to see what's going to happen to Crazy Guy next.

Staypuff Marshmallow Mom

For the last two weeks I've had a problem with my feet and ankles swelling. A lot. They would go down at night only to return to their sausage-like state over the course of the next day.

I realize that this is probably a normal thing for most pregnant women, but I haven't experienced it since Peter was about three weeks from being born, and it was at that point that I was put on bed-rest for preeclampsia-like symptoms.

My feet never did this with Cooper.

A few days ago I awoke to discover that my feet were still puffy. My ankles had gone down in the night, but the tops of my feet had not. Not only was it worrisome, it was uncomfortable. I had to wear flip-flops to church on Sunday because nothing else would fit.

Tuesday night I went to Girl's Camp. Not to sleep (that would have been insane), just to participate in the skits. I knew I couldn't wear flip-flops, so I reluctantly pulled-out my sneakers and squeezed them onto my too-full feet. With determination I was even able to tie them.

I worried throughout the evening about my feet. I snagged a sitting role in our skit (one of the perks of being the director) and tried my best to stay off my feet, but I still had to walk around quite a bit. What would they look like at the end of the night? Would I be able to get my shoes off?

When I finally sat at my kitchen table at 10pm and began the process of pulling off my shoes I realized that although I was tired, my feet weren't sore. I got the shoes off, then went for the socks. Much to my delight, my feet looked normal. I mean, not-puffy-at-all normal. I could see my regularly bone-y and vein-y feet just like I used to. I think pulling the shoelaces tight over the tops of my feet helped squish out the extra water.

It was fabulous!

My ankles still look like they have small doughnuts around them, but I'm counting this as a victory.

Peaches For You, Peaches For Me

On Saturday night my Grandma, my sister, and I took lots of these:


And made this:


And these:


The peach jam is sweetened with honey and fruit juice and is oh-so-good. And, bonus, I now own my own water bath. It was a belated happy birthday present to me from my Grandma.

Since then I've been thinking about all the other things I could can. Strawberry jam, sliced peaches, tomatoes...

I'm very excited about it.

Is That Your Final Answer?

While running around his room after his Uncle Isaac, Cooper worked up quite a thirst. He paused from the chase and brought me his empty water cup.

Cooper: I need some water.

Me: (trying to elicit a particular polite word) What do you need to say?

Cooper: I need some COLD water.

Not exactly what I was going for...

Error Message

Question:

Has anyone else been having trouble loading movies to blogger recently? Not embedding them from YouTube, that I can still do. I mean uploading them from the computer or the memory card. I have been trying for the last week to upload a handful of clips and have been thwarted. And they're very cute movies, at least, they are if you're one of Cooper's grandparents. Or possibly an Aunt.

Any ideas?

The Man Your Grades Could Be Like

Remember this?

Now there's this:



Hurray for alma mater!

Ghost Writer

Have you ever written something fabulous and then sat there, pondering about what famous author's style you most take after? Well my friends, you are in luck. Bryan sent me the link to I Write Like, a delightful website that analyzes your writing and tells you whose style yours most resembles.

I entered three recent posts and found out my style is most like Vladimir Nabokov, Stephen King, and Ian Fleming. Huh, I would not have guessed that. I've never read any of these authors, so at least I can rest assured knowing I'm not plagiarizing anything. Also, does that mean my daily adventures with the boys are reminiscent of an intense horror novel? Or a thrilling spy adventure? I like to think we're more Chitty-Chitty Bang Bang than Carrie.

I also analyzed my brother Isaac's work (hello James Joyce), my sister Paige's work (here's looking at you Kurt Vonnegut), my Grandma (Dan Brown; perhaps she could be a best-seller too), and Bryan (while he does enjoy science-fiction, I've never read anything he wrote that resembles an Arthur C. Clarke story, but maybe I'm not familiar enough with Sir Arthur's work).

I'm curious, who do you write like?

Under Pressure

I've been sitting here, trying to think of what to write, but all I can think about is that we're almost to the middle of July.

And we have to be out of our house by the end of July.

And we still haven't found a place to live.

I have a big stack of properties to look at today, so maybe we'll find our next home this morning.

I hope.

To quote Bryan, "I just don't want to be homeless or living in a hotel."

Yeah, me neither.

Thoroughly Modern Grandma

Remember this post about all of the awesome things my Grandma Bonnie does? Well, I have a new item to add to the list:

Rockband

She played guitar on both Lego Rockband and Beatles Rockband, for about an hour.

That, my friends, is a look of pure concentration.

It was thanks to my brother Isaac that she even consented to join us. He kept trying to get her to play and she kept saying that she didn't think she could. Isaac finally wore her down and she gave it a try. And she had fun.


Does your Grandma play Rockband?