mama milton

sure to make you smile

2011-10-05T06:00:00.000-07:00

I opened up my Google Reader, blew off the dust, and found some lovely posts to share with you.

Take a look:
Who's that girl?, by Amanda Magee
{she grew up in Eugene. i secretly hope it's in the water, this amazing strength & talent. i'd love to grow my girl up to be just like Amanda.}
Fall Drive, by SusieJ
{oh the fall foliage out east of my little corner of the world...thank you for posting this picture, Susie.}
Mighty Summit: visiting my earnest mood on you, Maggie Mason
{ah, she's famous among dozens, and i know why. i love the way she looks at the world.}
quoth the swapper, nevermore, by Sasha Libby
{the craft store is calling my name. i need ravens and poe, stat. i would love to play at her house.}
old girls gone wild, by Sam Persinger
{one of my best friends in this here real life. this old girl wishes she'd been along for the night out.}

Why have I been away for so long? I am inspired, encouraged, excited. Thank you, ladies.

2011-10-03T16:37:00.000-07:00

So it's about time I address the whole 'Hey, we know you're a slacker and all, and stopped posting regularly eons ago, but now your site is poof! gone' thing. It was nothing personal. It was a creepy stalker thing.

Picture one of those days when you are running errands and your kids are bickering and you feel sour & bitter which is not at all helped by the fact you are wearing yoga pants with Dankos for pete's sake, except you don't feel like saying pete at all but something foul while your nikes dry after a particularly soggy track meet the night before. I'm sure you've never had one of those days, lovely internet, but I was cranky and out of sorts and by the time I arrived at Trader Joe's, I was actively chiding myself to stop acting crazy for it was Friday after all, and I could go home and relax after I grabbed some groceries.

Long story short, a man began to follow me around TJs as I shopped, as I flirted with babies, as I talked up the cashier because of my undying affection for their staff. Yes, I noticed. Yes, I even thought once that it was weird that he didn't have a basket or cart or manners. But I thought I must remind him of his aunt Gretel or his older sister's best friend from Valencia, or something when I noticed he was pretty much within feet of me the whole time, watching me. Of course, when he came up behind me while I loaded my car full of groceries, and was filming, um, my posterior I was fairly certain he didn't think he knew me at all or maybe that's what they do in his family and ew. This scary encounter started with me shrieking at him in a very busy parking lot, and kicked off a month including a call to 911, the swift purchase of pepper spray, whistles, scared, sleepless children and a habit of texting my whereabouts to my husband at all times. (And once, to all my contacts, accidentally announcing my arrival to a job interview. Fun times.)

It passed. We relaxed. He has gone back into the woodwork, and I am back online. Something tells me the images of me yelling at a strange and creepy man in a parking lot are posted online - Frumpy Mothers of T.Joe's anyone? - or some far sicker site.

But with my sense of well-being intact again, it should be noted Creepy People, that I am not quite the same. I still flirt with babies when I'm out & about, but with pepper spray & a camera at my ready. (Fair's fair.)

And I can run damn fast. Even in my clogs..

everyday I'm shuffling

2011-09-29T06:17:00.000-07:00

I woke up shortly after the last bartender in town locked up, long before dawn. When I should have been still konked out with my blankey. But I heard my husband rustling around in the dark, headed for what is bound to be another long end of quarter sorta day.

He is a good man.

Me? The jury's still out, but I've faced down one nemesis this morning - the incredible, edible egg! Ha!* - and I have pumpkin muffins in the oven for the ones that used to be wee, back when I started blogging and I wrote about them a little too much. But they still like me.

They are good children.

I woke up thinking about this post and how I've been writing it in my head since Monday. The wind was picking up that afternoon, kicking a few leaves around my feet as I walked to the bus stop to meet my son. I read Zazen as I walked, splashing Earl Grey onto my dance pants until I came to the end of the road where I may or may not have practiced the tree pose for next week's class. (I totally did.) I had to laugh at myself, behaving like a run-of-the mill loony on Suburban street, but my days are like that right now. I am moving, racing, loving every minute.

I live a good life.

But I might need a nap.

*Um, I see you people eating your eggs, all tralala, feeling offended on their behalf. The eggs started it. I blame them. My epi-pen has my back.

Happy birthday, Caden

2011-07-13T21:51:00.001-07:00

Caden & Zack at the meet
Originally uploaded by mama.milton.

How'd you get so big? The baby in the family is 6 today. We love you buddy.

OX, Aunt Sissy and co.

well, hello there

2011-07-12T11:19:00.001-07:00

stampede, a photo by mama.milton on Flickr.

Mama Who? Yes, I've been away for some time, and for good reason. (See how I hint there is more to come? Mwahaha.)

It's good to be back. What have you been up to, dear lovely reader(s)?

for the love: waking up to bumble & bumble

2011-02-18T08:47:00.000-08:00

You know you are housing a (soon-to-be) teenager when the sweet smell of hair product wafts down the hall and competes with my morning coffee for aroma du jour.
Some things don't change, but I propose they do improve.

Our poor mothers.

for the love: little liberty

2011-02-17T19:37:00.000-08:00

Take a couple of hula-hoops...

Add some dreads,
And a statue of liberty costume and what do you get, rain or shine?

The happiest hula-hooping hippie-esque Liberty Tax employee, that's what. She's out there for hours, waving and hooping and generally making my day when I pass by.

What made you smile this week?

for the love: cardamom

2011-02-11T09:00:00.000-08:00

I knew I had to give it a try, as soon as I saw a friend's FB post about the Buttered Chicken (murgh makhani) she had simmering in her crock pot. I mean really. When's the last time you had reason to sew cardamom pods together? I didn't think so.

(It's the best smelling needlecraft to date.)

Also: I think the plate is having a girl.

for the love: bachaco

2011-02-10T09:14:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite new Zumba songs. Cumbia is a great way to start the day.

for the love: little vampires

2011-02-04T10:09:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure what it says about me, the way I can detail any Buffy episode, sight unseen, on long drives while the kids watch in the backseat, but fanatic comes to mind.

(And also: Joss? I am ready for your next project.)

So yea. I have a thing for vampires ~~of the non-sparkley variety~~.

Especially little vampires, sporting chucks.
That match the sky. (He must be wearing one of those magic rings that all the cool vampires seem to have these days. Poor Angel.)
While I love an angsty, brooding vamp as much as the next girl, happy little ones suit me just fine.
Run, Jake, run! Nevermind, puppy.
He's more interested in hanging out with the neighborhood girl with fangs.

for the love

2011-02-03T06:00:00.000-08:00

I don't know when I started using the phrase, 'for the love', but it's a staple in our household.

Like 'clean your room, for the love'.

Or 'I made you some coffee, for the love'.

(And it's meant sweetly; it's not short 'for the love of God'. That has a somewhat different tone, no?)

So for the month of February - and yes, I'm aware that I am running late; what's new? - I am seeking out the things that make my heart sing.

It's good for the soul.

dappled

2011-01-06T18:42:00.000-08:00

Dapple. Dapple. Dapple.

It was the word whirling around in my brain, as I walked the dogs this morning, early enough so that many a commuter got to see me pick up the business Jake so graciously dumped along a busy corridor.

Dappled in sunshine, words robbed of their meaning, being quaint and all. But it was ever so lovely out today, I could hardly stand it.

After a four mile journey, both mutts came to rest on my unmade bed, exhausted and utterly content to lay in the sun.

***

My days are interrupted since the move. We live auspiciously close to both schools, yet too far to realistically walk back and forth to their respective schools, especially considering their schedules are staggered. [Come spring - and more sunshine dapple dapple dapple I plan to work in walking/riding bikes, etc one drop-off/pick up or another each day.] So I'm a preschool mom again, setting timers for the school Siren's call, luring me in to the schools four times a day.

Or in this case, five. Today, as I write this, I wait with my son and both dogs while Lexi auditions for a play. Or at least I hope that's what she's doing. She has been trying to talk herself out of it all winter break, as her Dad and I try to convince her it's a great idea. And it would be good for my introverted girl to go through any audition. Of course she knows that 'good for you' is just parentspeak for pushing yourself into doing something difficult, like eating your veggies or getting along with your brother. So I'm especially proud of her for trying something new, something that puts her on edge and opens new doors for her.

And if someday soon, she is dappled in spotlight - please help me - all the better.

resolute (Or conversely: How to channel Sue while gripping a large bottle of vino at Safeway)

2011-01-04T16:14:00.000-08:00

I took an informal poll (I watched talk shows & pundits while disrobing the Christmas tree and consulted my dogs) and the results are in: Resolutions are out. Apparently because they are bogus and don't work.

Now I don't take to a pen and get all serious with New Year's resolutions on January 1st, but I still contend that making realistic changes to meet goals is time well spent, whether at the beginning of the calendar year, or school year or randomly on February 29th, every four years. I personally like to re-evaluate my lifestyle every season, and see what I'd like to take up or leave out, and it works for me and my silly brain. Three months feels just right to me.

Pauses and ponders momentarily

However, I tend to recall picturing 2010 far differently last January, and being flexible made the curve balls and other cliched surprises far easier to handle. For instance:

I started subbing as a staff assistant in a special education classroom and found that I really loved working with the young children in the program, as did my daughter.
Which led to me getting to teach Zumba, on a occasion, at the school.
And then I left that behind, and made a rather abrupt move, leaving behind any job connections
I had an opportunity to go to Italy, France & Monaco in August, and
I have more time now to pursue writing & crafty goals, the thing I was seeking last year, but never managed because of all the other plans 2011 had for me.

So clearly I am no better at this stuff than the pundits, filling air time and chewing up what remains of my braincells.

***

It was mid-December and I was Bound & Determined to finish my errands that morning, donning a dirty post-workout ponytail and track suit. I was finishing up at Safeway, grabbing a gift card and some wine for the company that was due to be arriving in a few days. My December (tired, hungry, crabby) reptilian brain lit up upon seeing the massive bottle of Mondavi on sale. Problem solved and away I went through the express lane. Except you know that's not how it happened. I ended up at customer service because the gift card may or may not have been properly activated at the self-servicy thing.

Customer service. Heh. It was deserted, save for the four employees that would cash their paychecks before I was acknowledged, and after ten very long Christmas minutes passed. Of course, the clerk wasn't much help as she tried read my Magical Starbucks Card like a tarot card.

And here's when I started to lose my (lizard) mind: She told me three times, chanting really, that they were going to put a sign up, warning customers of this little debacle days before, but they had been too busy. Telling me that instead of solving the problem with a sharpie, they had opted for the now 20 minute hassle/tarot session, again and again, during the height of holiday shopping.

I tried to be sympathetic, I did, and I thought about offering to make the signs up myself but then a bunch of employees started taking turns wishing another employee 'Happy Birthday' over the loud speaker, so I figured I'd let them handle their own sign dilemmas. That and any insistence that they remedy the problem seemed to fall on deaf ears, coming from a Sue Sylvester disciple clutching one enormous bottle of wine.

Oh well.

But it got me thinking: Sometimes all the talk and intention in the world isn't enough, and we have to be resolute to make things happen, to take action, even as we hold on loosely to a world quick to change under our feet.

greg

2011-01-02T09:02:00.000-08:00

Things are different this year. This is not entirely good. Nor bad. Ours lives are different.

(And for the expanded version of this spiel, cry and name something, anything, you wish were different. I am the master of the change spiel this year. I console myself with it all the time.)

And now I sound all somber and blue; I'm not. After having company here in Eugene, and traveling to see both sides of the family, and Greg's end of quarter and seeing some of my dearest friends over break, I'm just rightfully tired and in love with the low key right now: putting around the house, planning Zumba sets, napping and reading.

Yet today is Greg's birthday, and though we aren't hosting a party this year, as God as my witness, I will get out of this robe (not yet) and celebrate like a proper wife ought to.

(I see football and wine in my near future.)

So happy birthday to my dear husband. I adore you. I really, really do.

forty is fine

2010-12-23T07:07:00.000-08:00

blue skies on my December birthday

Our house guests have all went their merry ways, and now we are packing up for our own travels, leaving me worn to a nub. A happy, satisfied nub, but a nub nonetheless, and most certainly a nub that won't have time to write here or visit my favorite bloggers until a New Year comes and makes all things quiet (heh) again.

Be blessed, my dear readers & friends. See around the bend.

at home

2010-12-07T19:01:00.000-08:00

The newness wears off.

Even the using the word wears me down.

'New'. Meh.

Move and it doesn't take long for one to become possessive: My Borders, my favorite place for coffee, the place we get tacos on Friday nights.

New drifts away and soon you are driving on autopilot to school (four times a day will do that to you), waving at the Crossing Guards, getting hugs from kids in the morning and ducking out of the parking lot before being hit up to take up more volunteer work.

You will be surprised just how quickly the novel morphs into the familiar, and you are at home.

***

The box for Goodwill was perched precariously in the garage on one of a dozen empty banker boxes, ones used to transport the oh-too-many books here over the summer.

Miscellaneous stragglers that survived the Move of 2010.

One of the kids made a sad little sound at the sight of my weathered red snowflake flannel pjs, faded and too short, and worn out after five winters.

(Yes, we women of some height still outgrow our clothes, or rather, it seems that way after our cotton pants have become acquainted with the dryer.)

Now both kids stood by the box, equally hurt and angry that I would discard the jammies they've grown accustomed to me wearing when darkness falls with dinnertime.

The ones I wore while we have snuggled, and opened presents, and sat quietly after a busy December day by a lit tree; the ones I've worn while making Christmas breakfast. The ones I've read countless books in, on our bed.

The ones from before.

So the pajamas were granted clemency.

I will wear them until they fall apart.

Thankful: Day Thirty

2010-11-30T23:44:00.000-08:00

When the month began, I meandered out to the what was a glorious garden when we moved here in August.
Autumn had taken it's toll.

I won't lie: I find the decay strangely alluring.
And then I came across these strawberries, out of place and out of season. A delight.

{thankful for the unexpected}

Thankful: Day twenty-nine

2010-11-29T21:14:00.000-08:00

I have a great many things I could go into tonight for which I am thankful, but I am also plain tuckered out for the Mighty Parenting that I have doled out for the betterment of my wayward children.

So I am retiring for the night with a movie, a husband - not any ol' one, I like mine quite a bit - and a class of wine and re-posting something I wrote a year ago.

I Guess that Makes me the Angry Elf

{thankful for a reservoir of posts to draw from when ~~I'm lazy~~ need a break}

Thankful: Day Twenty-eight

2010-11-28T18:16:00.001-08:00

I lounged around in my pjs until lunchtime today, something I never do. I read half of Stephen King's Full Dark, No Stars (excellent, by the way), addressed Christmas cards and played helper elf to Greg while he strung our outdoor Christmas lights.

I'd hoped to *accomplish* more today, after a fun weekend of playing, but it wasn't to be.

{thankful for luxury of leisure}

Thankful: Day Twenty-seven

2010-11-27T19:31:00.000-08:00

Zack's best friend came down this weekend, for the last home game at Autzen Stadium. (His dad, Chris, scored tickets for the menfolk; thanks Chris!)

I'm too tired right now to give this weekend it's proper due here, but the Miltons' hearts are happy and content after being blessed with so much good company the past three days.

{thankful for the love of good friends & family}

Thankful: Day Twenty-six

2010-11-26T07:39:00.000-08:00

I don't do Black Fridays; years spent in retail has left me extremely disinterested in that sort of chaos.

I do snails. Or at least the kids do, gathering 'families' of 'Garys', making homes for them in the backyard on Thanksgiving. Well, until Caden accidentally stepped on the mama.

(She spent the rest of the afternoon looking through the ads for a replacement shell.)

Greg finds these things repulsive, though more dignified than the common slug - at least they have the sense to cover themselves - but then again, who likes a slug?

{thankful for the small things & big imaginations}

Thankful: Day Twenty-five

2010-11-25T20:29:00.000-08:00

Football

Family

Fun

Food

{thankful for all good things on this Fall day}

Thankful: Day twenty-four

2010-11-24T23:42:00.000-08:00

My sister, Lori, and I last Thanksgiving

{thankful my family is coming to the new homestead today}

Thankful: Day twenty-three

2010-11-23T19:57:00.000-08:00

We came from a city that really likes to hype up Storm Tracker Snowstorm coverage, commandeering all regular programming when ice or hail or sleet or threat of such weather is in the forecast, so I didn't pay much mind to the mention of possible snow in Eugene.

I mean, we do live at 430 feet. Snow seems unlikely.
So we were all a little surprised to wake to a blanket of snow...
and an official SNOW DAY. Woohoo.
Pretty, huh? But the boys weren't the only ones having fun...
I think Prissy Pants sorta hates me when I put her little coat on her.
Even 7th graders can't resist a day of snowball fights.
And Mama Milton?
I snapped the pictures, and
prepared for Thanksgiving while the kids had a fabulous time playing with the neighbors.

{thankful for snow days}

Thankful: Day twenty-two

2010-11-22T18:45:00.000-08:00

It's hard when you're first married and getting acquainted with your new family. Not that I'm newly married, hardly so, but I remember how much I wanted to impress Greg's Mom early on. To fit in.

I have always been thankful to have a mother-in-law that has always let me be who I am, and do things my own way. I imagine, now that I have a son, how hard it must be to let go of your boy and watch as they ease into a life without you.

So, happy birthday to the woman that raised my husband up to be the man he is today: Kind and smart and hard-working.

Thank you.

My mother-in-law, Marilyn, my sister-in-law, Nikki, & my niece, Adri

Christmas 2006

{thankful for Marilyn}

Thankful: Day twenty-one

2010-11-21T18:25:00.000-08:00

*a brisk ~~wouldberunifIwasn'tbecomingasthmatic~~ walk by the river with Molly*

*magical Chipotle guacamole lunch with Lori O*

*delicious seafood for dinner*

*pictures of falling snow ~~back home~~ north of us*

*teeny, tiny nap, this afternoon*

{thankful for spontaneous joys}

Thankful: Day twenty

2010-11-20T20:29:00.000-08:00

“Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.” — Marcel Proust

{thankful my boy had fun at a birthday party today, surrounded by new friends}

Thankful: Day nineteen

2010-11-19T19:14:00.000-08:00

Nineteen days into my quest, and I'm becoming incoherent. I tried googling something cute for Friday, but I came up empty-handed so here's a hodgepodge of things I liked about today:

Serving at the Harvest Family Feast today at Zack's school, donning gloves and a little apron while skads of folks came to eat lunch with their littles.
Eating lunch with Zack after I served, although he was in a bitterly sour mood, and wasn't the best company. I made up for it by visiting with my neighbor friend.
Remembering that I began working for Borders 9 years ago today, at a time when my family really needed the extra income. I met amazing people during my time at the Gresham & Vancouver stores; it was a great 5 year run.
Early morning walk with the dogs before the rain rolled back into town.
Sake and crispy tofu at PF Chang's with my family, followed by what else, but a stroll through our Borders.
Friday Friday Friday in all its glory.

{thankful to be home with my family on a chilly November night}

Thankful: Day eighteen

2010-11-18T19:03:00.000-08:00

{thankful for my hubby}

Thankful: Day seventeen

2010-11-17T15:49:00.001-08:00

The day finally came, as days are wont to do. I had my first acupuncturist appointment in Eugene this morning. *sigh*

A little tune-up + a plan does a lot to ease my aches & pains & my mind.

{thankful for little needles, as funny as that might sound}

Thankful: Day sixteen

2010-11-16T18:32:00.000-08:00

Monday bled into Tuesday and enough with the drama already. Surely today was better, but marginally so and because my complaints are primarily of the petty nature, I feel guilty about being grumpy. Which doesn't help.

The fact is: Schools need funding, and kids fuss and don't always love being at new schools that still need $$ and teachers need help, and I need a new esophagus, and I have missed my old community more after my last visit.

Still doesn't change the fact that: Dinner needs to be made, and kids need hugs, and husbands need attention.

So we move forward.

***

My friend Jen had some glad news today, and boy howdy does that girl deserve it.

Chit-chatting with her while she was picking up groceries picked me a bit as well.

{thankful for seemingly simple phone calls at just the right time}

Thankful: Day fifteen

2010-11-15T18:30:00.000-08:00

Monday was especially Monday-ish, leaving me feeling a little ungrateful. Blech.

So, I figured there is no better time to look at some gratuitous cute dog footage. It always cheers me up.

These two love to rip around the yard together. (Courtney looks rather possessed here. It's a look we're used to, I'm afraid.)
The rain has driven their play inside these days...
But it's hard to be in a bad mood when these two are around.

{thankful for our canine companions & their hi-jinks}

Thankful: Day fourteen

2010-11-14T18:33:00.000-08:00

I made breakfast Thursday morning, and stood back to see if the kids would eat up or decline said breakfast favorites. I've seen enough horror shows to know the key to survival is sussing out when your pal is infected and Zombie-bound, and I've had the stomach flu enough times to know that I wasn't about to begin a 2 hour drive with would be Zombies/Vomiteers if I could help it.

They ate up, and I packed up the car and away we went for the long weekend, seeing friends, and family.

(I came back home to Christmas shop with Greg while the kids visited my parents. Ahead who? Unheard of.)

{thankful for the good kind of tired that comes from a weekend well-spent}

Thankful: Day thirteen

2010-11-13T20:06:00.001-08:00

{thankful for date ~~night~~weekend}

Thankful: Day twelve

2010-11-12T06:00:00.000-08:00

I was sick earlier this week, down-for-the-count, pull-the-covers-over-my-head, sick.

And what did my sweet girl do? She made her own lunch, shepherded her brother through the morning, fed the dogs to their bowls runneth-over and plopped a kiss on Zack's head when she walked him into the gym, wishing him a good day at school.

She is a gem, this one.

{thankful for my sweet, capable & lovely daughter}

Thankful: Day eleven

2010-11-11T07:00:00.000-08:00

{thankful for freedom}

Thankful: Day ten

2010-11-10T08:06:00.000-08:00

Acupuncture has changed my life.

You're shaking your head, just now, and saying: How very West Coast of you.

I'll take your jabs and raised eyebrows because acupuncture, Chinese herbs and moxabustion gave me the pain relief that I couldn't get from Neurontin, Imuran, Prednisone & narcotics.

If that wasn't enough, I was doubly blessed, having Andrea Fisk as my first practioner. Not only is she brilliant and very skilled at what she does, but seeing her every week was like having coffee with a dear friend, an amazing advisor.

I miss her terribly*.

{thankful for Andrea, her friendship & her expertise}

*I get to see her tomorrow - woot - and I begin with my new acupuncturist next week, here in town. Double woot.
*I didn't snap this lovely picture, but I know who did. (I snagged it off Andrea's site.)

Thankful: Day nine

2010-11-09T08:11:00.000-08:00

Dastardly stomach virus-y thing has me grounded, and sad. I'm missing Zack's classroom field trip to a nearby forest to learn all about salmon and spawning and etc etc - all the things I have learned on these sort of trips before. In the rain.

Just disappointed to be missing the fun, spending time with my kid.

So I guess I'll just rest with my sweet, squishy dogs and get cracking on the stack of books by my bed.

{thankful for the written word}

Thankful: Day eight

2010-11-08T21:00:00.000-08:00

I drink a lot of non-specific, non-fussy ~~cheap, day-old~~ coffee to motor through my schedule, but not today.
This morning I brewed up a cup of illy, with a side of longing for Italy and France.

{thankful for the little things, like the perfect cup of coffee on a rainy November day}

Thankful: Day seven

2010-11-07T18:43:00.000-08:00

Two football posts in one weekend, further proof that an alien life force has abducted the real Lisa, but who's to say. Pod-Lisa loves rooting for the underdog, watching a group of rather inexperienced boys come up out of nowhere and win the city championship.

Other-Worldly Lisa cheered and teared up at today's game at a high school field. She even heard real Lisa's son's name announced at the Kidbowl.
The only good thing about being replaced by an impostor alien-self is you don't have to stand in the rain.

The rest is golden.

{thankful for such an amazing season, with a gifted coach and great kids; even more thankful my hubby got to be there for it all}

Thankful: Day six

2010-11-06T18:22:00.001-07:00

I never was much for football.

And then I moved to Eugene, home of the Oregon Ducks.
Now we are living in a university town, during a very exciting time, and I find myself - ME! - screaming GO GO GO for my ducks every week. How did that happen?

If you think I'm excited, you should see these two.

(First home game at Autzen Stadium in September, weeks after we moved here.)

{thankful for relaxing Saturdays, watching football with my family in Eugene}

*

GO DUCKS!

Thankful: Day five

2010-11-05T13:45:00.001-07:00

I wanted a fancy-schmancy picture of my Smart Girls before I left for my new adventure in Eugene, but alas, just getting us to all sit down in one place can be challenging.

I resisted the whole photo booth thing at the Ace Hotel in Portland, because there was simply no way we would all fit that itty-bitty space, but somehow we managed. It's what we do.

And I'm glad Stu was saddled with my camera while we worked out the logistics.

{thankful for friends that remind me to have fun & be silly sometimes}

Thankful: Day four

2010-11-04T12:52:00.001-07:00

I have been under the weather lately, having a miserable flare-up of EE. I had a great appointment today with an allergist, and after being skin-prick tested for 60 foods, we have concluded that I'd give dairy, along with eggs, a break for the next month.

It's manageable, but it will take better menu planning on my part. Something I don't feel ready to tackle just yet, just now.

Good thing I have some trash TV dvr-ing tonight.

The Vampire Diaries
(CW teenage vampire/witch/werewolf show? They had me at Bad Boone.)

Grey's Anatomy
(I dropped GA a few years ago, when Grey's long-lost sister introduced herself during an emergency because who does that? Yes, it's melodramatic, but it's the one show that moves me to tears. Truly. Also, in defense of my Grey's: I love the way last season's finale is still playing out on the show. I like my story lines untidy & messy, like real life.)

{thankful for distractions, and good doctors, and good outcomes*}

*my sister had foot surgery yesterday & all went well :)

Thankful: Day three

2010-11-03T18:55:00.000-07:00

There was tremendous grousing and complaining about being too tired (hungry/thirsty/oppressed) to take a 2 mile walk with their dear old Mom, but walk we did, along the Willamette, on a nearly 70 degree November day.

There was lagging, and fake falls and enough drama for this mama, but I didn't mind.

Leaves were falling and college students were riding their bikes; babies (unable to voice their displeasure) rode along merrily in strollers while I walked my rambunctious Springer, the one that wants to eat all the geese.

(Hurry. Fly far, far away not-so-little birdies.)

And by the time I snapped this picture on my phone, everyone was in a better mood. Against their will.

{thankful for an opportunity to do what's good for us, even if some of us were unwilling.}

Thankful: Day two

2010-11-02T11:43:00.000-07:00

Stomping. Roaming. Strolling. Running.

Men dressed in green (it is Eugene after all) wave to me before returning to tidying up their yards for the winter.

Sleek runners, mounted on powerful legs, nod as I clunk by them.

There's a whiff of smoke in the air, as folks fire up their stoves again.

Nothing beats getting outside on a fall day.

{thankful for legs that carry me where I want to go}

Thankful: Day one

2010-11-01T21:24:00.000-07:00

The baby-faced meteorologist was wrong.

No rain on Halloween.

We begged for candy without a coat.

Now that's just crazy talk. Sweet, happy crazy talk.

{thankful for a warm evening, traipsing around the neighborhood with new friends & my kids, while Greg handed out the goods.}

Stepford Syndrome

2010-10-14T13:52:00.000-07:00

Fed the family, fed the dogs, walked/jogged 7 miles, researched half-marathons, spoke to my Grandma on the phone, lifted weights, did the dishes and the laundry, wiped up counters and floors, dropped off kids, picked up kids (4tripstotal), talked to my sister, hosted a playdate, spoke to my neighbor lady, helped with homework, played with dogs, made blondies, walked Zack to playdate, talked to Jen on the phone, emailed, marked up the calendar, supported a fundraiser, addressed packages, looked for costumes, listened to football stats, welcomed my husband home, read during football practice, listened to a book on tape, watched Dexter with Greg. Laughed, lived, loved.

Yet.

I went to bed, wondering where my day went. Where all my days go. And why I don't get more done.

Seeing it in print is helpful. But why do I feel like I'm spinning my wheels?

Florence. Oregon.

2010-10-10T13:01:00.000-07:00

A certain dog I know loves the sand. And water.

Now that we are 60 miles from the Oregon Coast, it stands to reason that we can swing a day trip there, from time to time.
If only the sun could have joined us. She's sorta afraid of the coastline. Big baby ball of fire.
Not that my kids care.
Believe me when I tell you friends: That water is C O L D. Brrr

of feet and frustration

2010-10-06T16:07:00.000-07:00

Some women make it look easy; they make it look effortless, this fashion thing. I've spent most of my life being haplessly unaware just how little of it comes to me at all.

Not that I care. Not most days.

But I recently found a darling pencil skirt at Goodwill, fulfilling my Great Skirt Fantasies. What is my GSF? Well, after wearing skirts all summer long, I would come across a batch of fall and winter skirts, skirts that beg to be worn with tights & boots. Skirts that play well with scarves and gloves. Skirts that would carry until spring. Skirts that may or may not like walking dogs, going to pumpkin patches and/or caramel apples. And skirts easy on the eyes and wallet.

One would think that if I could find my Soul Mate Skirt, I would be set.

One would hope that the neuropathy in my feet could just give me a break until I see my new acupuncturist in November, the earliest appointment I could get.

One could hope that I could come up with a cute outfit for this weekend's Wordstock festival in Portland.

This one girl was wrong. All my shoes hurt. Every non-geriatric, orthopedic-and-otherwise-shoe at every store I went to today - and I strongly dislike shopping - made me wince. Add a little neurotic episode of trying on most everything in my closet and I had ruined a perfectly good afternoon.

So I am pouting, and angry at myself, for being angry at my body.

'It's doing the best it can.'

I tell this to myself while I lament the time lost. I'm saying it while I bake cookies for the kids my body lovingly carried for me. While I make dinner in my new kitchen, the biggest kitchen I've ever had. (Pictures coming this week.)

They carry me.

I have no idea what I'll pack for my trip, but my feet will carry me and my silly insecurities.

Oy vey.

"I've got a perfect body, but sometimes I forget.
I've got a perfect body, because my eyelashes catch my sweat."

another Sunday

2010-10-03T17:00:00.000-07:00

I'm in the kitchen, boiling water, when I notice my son has abandoned the NFL game again, throwing a football around the backyard, undoubtedly re-enacting the day's plays.

I don't mind that he's peeled himself away from the couch; I wish he'd kindly take pity on my electric bill and turn the TV off when he grows restless. Besides: Ethan Hawke is reading Slaughterhouse-Five to me, while I pull raviolis from the fridge, saute scallops.

Ethan doesn't like competing with the fine men of ESPN, well-dressed in their tailored suits, suits designed for men with wide shoulders and early arthritis.

I turn off the TV as my boy bounds through the door, puzzled and sweaty.

'Why'd you turn off my show/game/Football prophet?'

I shake my head and go back to making dinner. My story of war and Dresden awaits; Uma's ex bides his time patiently.

I hit play.

sneak peek: living room and mutt

2010-09-28T07:01:00.001-07:00

I say I've moved but I haven't offered up any proof of said new home.

(Also: Please help me find a *new* way of saying *new*. I have overused it this past month and cringe every time I see it.)

Let's start with the living room, because ~~it looks clean-ish~~ it's the only room that's had a photo shoot of sorts.

I love the hickory wood floors, and the spacious vaulted ceilings and I'm not even quoting a realtor. It's light and airy, even when it's gloomy outside. Great news for drizzleland.
Jake wakes from his nap, ready for his photo shoot. It's all about you, isn't it Jake?
Jake. You are such a goober.

Sunday

2010-09-19T17:00:00.000-07:00

Come Sunday evening, my mind drifts to Vancouver, where my people often gather for family night dinner. It's informal, elbows around the table, kids spilling into the yard of that week's brave host.

Like potluck, but better.

I find myself thinking of all the things I would say, if I was drinking a glass of wine with my best friends tonight.

It's not that I'm unhappy here. I am drinking some Chinese medicine, to ward off a cold, and Greg is cooking for the second night in a row. I hear NFL from the other room; the dogs are nestled by my feet.

I just miss sharing it, with them. So I make due with phone calls, and texts, and emails, and know - as I did the day I moved - that I was blessed beyond measure. Still am.

Lucky, lucky me.

2010-09-15T19:02:00.000-07:00

I'm still aswim in boxes, the last dastardly ones that lack rhyme or reason ~~so they may get shoved in the corner & forgotten~~ or so it seems, but I decided to take a Borders break.

A loitering I went, taking notes on books I might like to read this fall and looking at Christmas cards (ghastly, pre-Halloween fare) before I settled into a big black leather chair, burying myself in art and craft magazines.

I'm not sure how much time had passed before I panicked, sure I had left Zack waiting curbside and traumatized while I opened my own etsy shop. In my head.

I came to, and no children were abandoned.

But I did come back transfixed by what I found:

Here's where I was going to link to fun projects, so you too could look up the magazines/websites, and be inspired, and maybe you too could open your own etsy shop. In your head.

Strangely enough, I can't copy any of the pictures or link to anything of consequence (I know, I know, and I wasn't trying to steal anything because they include instructions and I am more than willing to give credit where credit is due) so I will just have to wow you with the results. When I make things, and not in my head otherwise known as for reals.*

*Hopefully ending a post with 'for reals' didn't cause spontaneous eye-bleeding or seizures. Ever so sorry.

a cup of sugar

2010-09-13T18:49:00.001-07:00

My son has been standing on a chair for the better half of the afternoon, courting a new friend in the yard behind ours. He intermittently runs football plays for her - sure to impress any 9 year old girl - giving his sister a chance to saddle up to the fence for some much needed company as well.

Tomorrow or maybe the next, I will make my way to their front porch, like a proper adult and introduce myself and invite their kids to play with mine, one yard to rule them all.

Tonight, I will watch from my window, as my kids toss seeds over slated wood, hoping a friendship blooms.

Death by Gilad (because capoeira makes me feel like a chump)

2010-09-08T15:55:00.000-07:00

I left my gym membership behind, north on the I-5. I know as a card-carrying member of the mom-types, I am supposed to really dislike working out, but I do it anyway because it is socially what's expected of me, or some such nonsense, but I haven't felt that way in years.

(Except for the dang stairmaster. I am not a fan, and I only climbed those suckers because it's good for me, and I get uninterrupted bff time with Jen.)

I work out because it really does make me feel better and keeps me sane(r). End of story.

Gym-less, I decided I could save a few bucks, and start DVRing programs - I sound like my Grandma - to peruse at my leisure.

I've tried the Core Fusion routines, deceivingly easy looking but painful.

I've tried some Bollywood dance routines, and I've relied on one of my favoriteTV instructors for some yoga. (I would so befriend Sara Ivanhoe if she lived nearby and that's before I was friendless in a new town.)

Then I got daring, thought 'perhaps I should give some of this Brazil-y workout stuff a try' (profound stuff, I know) and I took on capoeira.

It started out easy enough, but soon I was tossing my head this way and that, and the snickering - THE SNICKERING - of the young offspring when I did the little half-assed cartwheel thing. It really was more than any of us could rightfully bear.

So I either need to cough up some cash or it's going to be a long, rainy autumn with Gilad, the only weightlighting class on TV I can tolerate.

On the bright side, gym deprivation may motivate to get my act together sooner, so I can start teaching Zumba again.

Because no one ever snickers at me about that. Heh.

a dip, during our trip

2010-09-04T18:02:00.000-07:00

We stayed all tourist-like, lodging in a hotel in our former little town. [Former, as in 'we lived there two weeks ago'.]

We visited the elementary school, where both my kids attended, and made our goodbyes.

We visited friends, visited Bad Mom's new classroom, ate delicious homemade food and played with baby guinea pigs.

I even saw my acupuncturist in Portland, for good measure.

Then a spontaneous swim party broke out.

Zack, Lexi and Kylen.

Quinn B.

Little Smart Girls. And boys.

Summer sure is sweet.

August

2010-09-01T06:38:00.000-07:00

In one month, a mere 31 days, Mrs. Milton has done the following:

Went on a uber-romantic trip with her hubby to Europe (Rome, French Riviera, Monte Carlo). I have much to tell you, dear reader
Cried &/or carried an ache in her throat from the not boo-hooing continuously. Moving is hard, Barbie.
Registered both kids for new schools, went back to school shopping and prayed for the quiet that school will bring.
And has dreaded the quiet school will bring.
Made a quick road trip to visit her in-laws
Has fretted over bad skin, a harbinger of too little sleep, eating crappy food, and skipping the sweat that makes everything better.
Flung an exfoliating acne gel into her right eye, while trying to quell the skin trauma.
Thanked God her eye is still intact because believe me when I say this is not pleasant.
Called the gas company, all Nervous Nelly like, when I smelled gas in my house. Dude said there's a dead mouse in my garage. Is this good news? At least we are safe.

And now I'm off to tame hungry children, clean unfinished projects, and to PACK again for a short sojourn home (confused on that still), so the kids can rightfully say good-bye to their classmates at their old schools.

Call me Mama Mental.

hell hath no fury, or something like that (just hand over the library card and no one gets hurt)

2010-08-30T08:57:00.000-07:00

Back when Mama was a wee miss, she discovered she had a thing for the written word.

Many written words.

All the time.

I'm nestled around the corner, hiding from the matronly mamas.

It could be said that I have a bit of obsession, really.

So it should not come as a surprise to find that right after securing a place to sleep, and some nominal amount of food in the fridge after any move, I scour the earth for the nearest library. I found mine within hours of arriving in Eugene, in the phone book, old school style.

I took my first mortgage payment stub with me - to prove residency - and the kids and we marched on in, all ready to begin our love affair with our new library system only to be turned away.

Turns out that buying a house in the area is shaky ground, however, a rental/lease agreement would be an in as would a personal letter addressed to me from any old Joe the Letter Writer.

Now those that know me in the flesh, know I can sometimes be too quick to accept a 'no'. I am easy-going like that. But after going several days of unpacking and cleaning without an audio book had taken a toll on me and I found myself arguing that I had used this information to register the kids at school, and that I love books, and that I am trustworthy, yet, nutty book lady, and that no I don't want the stupid piece of paper you keep waving at me.

(Please note: No librarians were injured or insulted during the showdown. I was desperate, but I can't be mean to any librarian, no matter how stubborn she seems to be, especially considering she holds the golden ticket to the goods.)

So I stalked my mailbox for more mail. I complained on Facebook and rallied support from my librarians back home. And when I had a nice stack of mail, addressed to me, showing I am in it to win it here in their fair town, we drove down to the luxurious downtown library where the sullen help there handed me a card.

(Where are the happy book people? I haven't met up with them yet.)
She is worth the wait, no? Better still, there were vegan cupcakes in the cafe, located in the foyer. And to prove myself worthy of citizenship, I supported the local economy and bought one, of course.

Oh the joy.

Took this one on my phone; it is breathtaking...

801*: The move to Eugene report

2010-08-27T08:04:00.000-07:00

Eugene, OR

It started off rocky, my emotional stability, as we drove 20 mph to Eugene, where our new home waited for us. A biker nearly clipped my car, and I muttered something murderous. Traveling with two kids and two dogs, heaped with the last of our belongings will do that do a girl. Especially when she's been living on fast food and adrenaline for days.

But we landed safely and just like that opening scene from Wizard of Oz, little by little, the kindly folks of our new neighborhood came out, to welcome us. Picture us, grubby and disheveled, hungry and sweaty - I can only imagine the impression we made, what with Zack pwning everyone and my daughter desperate for dinner - shaking hands like crazy politicians that just rolled into town. I might have even kissed a baby.

So, we've been on a roll. Checking out pools, and parks, and unpacking.

I've been organizing, channeling Martha Stewart and her hordes of naturally tidy people, which I don't count myself among.

I've registered kids at schools, been thwarted at the library (more on that Monday; stay tuned), I've tossed a ball for my dogs a million times.

And then yesterday? We all melted a bit. Moped. I think it was all family reunions at the middle school, when we gave them all our money so Lexi can get educated and such. Everyone continued to be polite and sweet as ever, but we missed our people.

Homesick, I should have taken the kids to the movies or on another adventure but instead I pressed on to the grocery store where they may or may not have behaved like preschoolers, fighting over pushing the cart. I should have went home, my friends, but my kung fu parenting moves were depleted, so I sneered at them and was suddenly thankful to be anonymous. The scene certainly won't make our Christmas letter.

One nap later, and a call to one of my smart girls, and I was ready to be the new girl again, to fix tacos in the kitchen I'm beginning to wonder how I went without.

When it was still light out, I sat on my back stoop, and watched the hummingbirds shimmy about the branches in a tree I've yet to identify, the dogs busting figure eights around the yard.

And when night fell, my neighbor's twinkling lights came on, giving my backyard a magical feel. I sighed. Inside, my kids were tucked in and sleeping off the bad day and my husband was undoubtedly finished mixing up a margarita for me while watching some science channel.

I locked up and crawled in bed.

I am where I belong.

*801 posts, baby. Huzzah

new girl on the block

2010-08-24T07:22:00.000-07:00

I'm rusty. And not in the wholesome, leading up to some crack about moving to Oregon, sort of way. I'm just rusty and out of practice when it comes to blogging.

But you know that little voice you hear when you are writing frequently, that running monologue as you go about your day, writing invisible sentences in your noggin? It's back. So either I am mentally ill (shut it) or this mama is back.

Now back to unpacking.

2010-04-03T08:38:00.000-07:00

I wade through kids and canines, littering my bedroom floor, a sleepover in Mom's room while my husband works out of town. This is how we are doing spring break, while the sky breaks and it rains enough to make this girl from the Northwest pout.

I'm not prone to being disappointed; take this as you will. I'm usually game for most things, accepting the good with the bad, but I've caught myself whining a lot this week. Many friends are in sunnier climes, I imagine having superior Breaks. I'm usually one of the few people in my circle of friends that stays in town as Greg works long hours, finishing up his fiscal year. Still, this year was worse. I have been immeasurably restless. I'm sure it will pass.

***
Yesterday I met up with Sam to learn the ways of Dragon Training. It's a great little flick, starring my dog, Courtney.

Ok, Toothless is not a crazy little Frenchie, but the resemblance is uncanny.
It's worth checking out with the kidlets. Maybe an Easter matinee? I think Jesus will approve.

spring cleaning

2010-03-31T11:52:00.000-07:00

It was the sort of tidy, unbelievable dream recounted in memoirs or told by children, hoping to chat up a subject when you know good and well they are fibbing, fabricating a neat narrative to start the day. I don't mind when my kids do it; let them be storytellers in a world that doesn't always like or understand big imaginations. It's a good cover.

But I woke with a start, after a vivid dream sure to make you roll your eyeballs around your sweet head, thinking this is your reward for reading Mama Milton - big fat liar - again. My feet hit the floor; I woke up productive

(Well, save the precious minutes lost, eating amaranth porridge, propped in my chair, watching Raquel Welch discuss her cleavage, or the need to be taken serious despite her cleavage or her tone or some such nonsense. Not that I don't like Raquel or her cleavage for that matter. But following what felt like a vision? Waste. Of. Time.)

The months that have made up this year have been equally difficult and happy: a fall out with a family member; meaningful work, subbing in a special ed classroom; the untimely death of a lost cousin; teaching my first Zumba class. I chase children, chores and choreography, only to collapse at night. I see an acupuncturist I adore, and she listens and cheers me on as I try to simultaneously regain my health and bite off more than I can chew most days.

Difficult and happy. Content and exhausted.

Just add the kids' birthdays, and Greg's busiest work season, and the billionth cold/pathogenic wind (see? love the Chinese medicine) and spring break found me a bit fried.

The house is quiet today. I have spoken to no one except Lowe's delivery service, promising to bring me a new stove by day's end. Soon, the kids will return from a visit with my parents to a house scoured with Comet and soap and water and hope. Orderly, or well on its way to being so.

We'll call it spring cleaning.

But secretly, you and I will remember it was the beginning of something new coming, unseen and welcome.

recommendations from a wayward writer

2010-02-21T18:35:00.000-08:00

A beautiful story I plan to listen to, again, before I return it to my trusty library.
And a beautiful movie, tucked in before the Oscars, coming to a living room near you in a mere two weeks. (Secret boyfriend alert for my BFF bad mom...)

Just add February sunshine, and things are just ducky.

a season

2010-02-05T08:25:00.001-08:00

Maybe I am over blogging. Sure, it's a worn out subject, but I've noticed many of my favorite writers have stopped updating their blogs or do so occasionally. I used to think - back when I posted daily; I was bubbling over with ideas - how ludicrous and sad it was, this giving up or in or whatever had crossed my mind at the time.

I could write about the copious amounts of rum I drank to unclench my aching jaw after watching my friend sign divorce papers or couple skating with my husband last weekend, my heart full of gratitude, but when words come to mind these days, I spill them in short spurts on facebook; I let them brew, fiction fermenting.

Sure, I'll still be here from time to time. I'll still stop by your place sometimes.

But I'm letting myself off the hook, the guilt I feel when days, weeks pass and my blog collects dust.

It feels good.

my court

2010-01-28T08:13:00.000-08:00

So the gym and I are giving it another go, and as a bonus, I am crazy sore.

I know. I give up my time and energy and am rewarded with pain. Go figure.

I run myself a hot bath this morning, curlers in hair and oatmeal in hand, feeling like Queen Time Manager, with a little side of Multitask - getting ready for work while assuaging all my achy parts.

A few moments alone. It's nearly an Oprah-approved "ah!" moment or "me time" or what have you, when the dogs barge in, the one with the bulldozer head making way for the one with the bionic nose.

They sit, tub side, while I try to eat my breakfast, surrounded by Bionicles, Jack Sparrow - Action Figure! - and several dinosaurs from Lexi's 2000 paleontologist phase, grateful for this messy life of mine, royalty in the rubble.

the road to December is paved with good intentions

2010-01-24T07:08:00.001-08:00

The prophetess Sheryl Crow speaks to me in my car. Before you meter out the measure of mockery such a silly sentence brings, hear me out.

She might be on to something when she says: It's not having what you want, it's wanting whatcha got.

It may not be said eloquently, but this embracing what we have seems to be the secret to contentment.

(I wrote 'contempt' while telling the startled dog to stop barking. That may be another post.)

Still I find myself irritable all week, loving most bits of my hectic schedule but frantic that I can't get to other things I want: writing, reading, making jewelry, having tea with friends.

I'm reassessing my expectations and taking a long look at how to bring balance back into my world. Today, I feel calm, and able.

I let you know how long that lasts.

cool balancing rocks courtesy of Google images

puppy love

2010-01-14T06:00:00.000-08:00

I never fancied myself to be a dog person. I live near Portland; I know of dog people. Dogs litter the streets, hitched up to tables. Dogs come to bars. Dogs are this way and that, and after being around my Show Dog/Breeder/Boarder Grandma, and I didn't have much use for the crazy.

I dismissed it as such. Phooey.

Until my husband weaseled his way through the deep recesses of my dark, dark heart, playing on my one weakness: Squishy faced dogs. Soon, we adopted Miss Courtney.

Life was good with our shy little girl, and during the summer I started to love my trips to the dog park with my family. Me. The hesitant one. And when I suggested she would be happier with another dog in the mix, Greg - the unhesitating one - ran with it, and we adopted young Jake in August.

Jake is a sweet boy, a Dug among dogs. He is ever present, ready to play, attentive.

I find it funny that these two dogs have changed me so dramatically, when I thought I knew myself better. I guess I just didn't know what I was missing.

Happy first birthday, Jakers.

focus

2010-01-11T06:00:00.000-08:00

I promptly came down with something in the new year. It figures. It feels like a little joke, from the universe to me and My Big Plans.

2010 and I feel passionate, motivated, excited. It is quite a gift, this momentum on the heels of a soul sucking bout of depression last fall.

But being sick and needing sleep more than anything made it clear to me: I must write tangible goals down, on paper, and map out a plan while the spirit still moves me. Between naps, and neti pot and needles, administered by a skillful new friend.*

What about you? I'm not talking about resolutions, though they are nice and all, but goals are what I yapping about. What do you hope to accomplish? This week, this month, this year?

*More on my adventures in acupuncture soon.

little something

2010-01-07T17:34:00.000-08:00

Did I ever tell you, Dear Diary, that I got a temporary job through the school district, as a Health Screening Assistant? Well I most surely did. I work with a team of funny, hard-working women, moving furniture and setting up screening stations, and training volunteers at a different school nearly every week.

There are some bumps along the way, and some personality 'things' you run into when you are working with the public, but generally it's a great gig.

I love it.

Best of all, most days I work one-on-one with kids. Lots of kids.

We screen hundreds of little eyes and ears each day, thousands a week, but when a child steps up and I look him in the eye and smile, it's really about that one set of eyes; that one child.

One young girl walked up today, hair disheveled from recess and a warm spray of freckles and sweet smile. When I looked at her paperwork, I learned she was called Daisy; how apt. I mentioned how I liked her bright, shiny name and she lit up, lived up to all that bright and shiny name implies.

As her class left the testing area, she looked over her shoulder and hollered: "Have a nice day!"

These little encounters come and take leave, and I have had many sweet moments working for the school, first as a volunteer, and now as a paid employee of the district. But really it's about that one set of eyes when it happens; that one child.

It's what keeps me coming back.

(google images)

coming down

2010-01-05T05:43:00.001-08:00

coming down
Originally uploaded by mama.milton

Our big maple has been coming apart in chucks, taking out fences and making sleep hard to come by when the wind howls.

We figure it's only a matter of time before the whole thing goes, and the arborist we consulted agrees.

She's coming down today.

I hate to see a tree go; I love the shade, the squirrels, the leaves.

Our hamster is buried beneath it. The sky will look scarred when I step out in the evenings with my dogs.

I tell myself the peace of mind is worth it, but when I leave for work this morning, I plan to linger for just a moment, just one more moment.

party

2010-01-04T08:02:00.000-08:00

January 2nd? It is not known for being a prime party day. Everyone is: Tired, Broke, Hungover/Dieting, Locked in a Padded Cell.

Post-Holidays, and most people want to take to their bed.

But not these hearty souls. They showed up - and believe me when I say that means more to me than I can say, especially when some people did not - and gave Greg quite a wingding.

So happy birthday, a few days late, to my sweet hubby.

Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer

(PictoBrowser is too big for this template. Oops.)

happy birthday

2010-01-02T06:58:00.001-08:00

beachcomber
Originally uploaded by mama.milton

Let the festivities continue. Onward, onward.

Happy birthday to my best guy, on the heels of many late work nights.

We love you, Greg. May this next year be sweet to you.

rolling into the new year

2010-01-01T08:22:00.000-08:00

Donning the skates with the Glorious Cox ladies (Happy birthday, Erika! ox)

My date for the afternoon at Oaks Park.

Donning, always with the donning, berets for the So I Married an Axe Murderer party.

My date for the evening, because Greg worked late into the evening. (Cue the utter-bummed-outness. In 2010, I continue to make up words.)

Greg made it just before midnight, so neither of us turned into a pumpkin. I only wish I'd taken more pictures of Jen's great party. I was too pouty/chatty to do so. It was a great start to what I hope is a fine year.

(I woke up far too early this morning, to see Greg off to work again - I know, lame - and Jake has chewed the strap off one of my Danskos. That's how he parties. Silly dog.)

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

yesterday, goodbye

2009-12-31T07:25:00.000-08:00

Of course that is not the lyrics to a Chorus Line's What I Did for Love but that's how I remember this song. It's one of the downfalls of public education, I suppose. Mrs. Potter taught me a repertoire of songs in the 70s, sappy ballads that I didn't understand but who can really resist belting out: Goodbye Michelle, it's hard to die. When all the bird are singing in. the. sky? I certainly can't.

Look! I brought you some jazz hands. You're welcome.

2009 was sweet and joyful; heartbreaking and disappointing. If you'll bear with me - and feel free to gag at the sweet sentiments - I've come to the place of knowing that if I was sad for a time this year, it's because I opened myself up and cared deeply for other people. I was engaged. And as painful as it was, I would do it again. I won't shut down. I won't let it shrink my world.

So, farewell to 2009. I'm ready to put her to bed and flirt with new opportunities.

Happy New Year, dear friends.

post

2009-12-28T10:49:00.000-08:00

That thud overhead? Don't be alarmed. I'm pretty sure it is the boys - Zack and his cousin, Austin - playing in my room and I am pretty sure because if not, I have to entertain notions about vampires playing baseball upstairs or, Scary Thought #2: there's an intruder. I pick little rambunctious boys for the win, but I am unwilling to verify said theory because that would require rising up out of this chair.

And the chair is a nice place to be.

The sun is shining through my window and the mutts are huddled together, snoozing the first of many snoozes today.

If I had a cup of tea, I could probably justify staying here all day.

Yet remarkably, no one is buying this nonsense. I need to take the tree down, and plod my way forward; no more milking 'I'm sore from yoga' today.

And it feels good - this calm - on the last week of the year, counting down to something juicy and sweet, around the corner.

Tired, and hopeful, Monday just might be my favorite after all.

Christmas Eve ramblings, the Insomniac Edition

2009-12-24T04:41:00.000-08:00

Well hello there. Dawn has not broken yet my brain just might be for I cannot sleep. This happens with some regularity; three a.m. rolls around and some switch in my brain gets flipped on and my mind races, typically with PLANS for the day or alternately, I think of zombies and Stephen King movies and run-on sentences.

(It's foggy here. I'm shutting the blinds.)

And because it is Christmas Eve, aka my Mom's birthday in these parts, my to-do list coupled with a sinus headache made the coaxing back to sleep thing impossible.

So here I am, packaging rum cakes and sharing my incoherent thoughts with you, dear reader.

I like the new Monica Gellar show. I find it funny. Don't judge

I am still searching for the perfect rum cake pan. I will know it when I see it.

I miss last year's snow. I just do.

I inherited my Mom's making-crafts-until-the-last-minute-for-Christmas gene. It makes me feel mentally ill and yet, I can't stop myself.

I am brewing up a Deep Moments with Stuart Smalley sort of post about forgiveness, which sounds meek & mild, and baby Jesus worthy but I am not there yet.

Speaking of not being there yet: We are church-less these days. We've been invited to several Christmas Eve services today. I don't feel ready. I feel broken.

I am thankful for my family, and my smart girls, and my sweet and exhausting dogs. The quiet, where there will soon be frenzy; the promise of a new year.

And maybe a nap later today.

I still believe in Christmas miracles.

(Merry Christmas! ox)

best dad ever (a little love from Zack)

2009-12-12T18:53:00.001-08:00

Zack crouched at the end of the table, stealing glances at Greg while he unwittingly posed, watching football.

Zack worships Greg. It is something to behold.

(It makes me ache when Greg is working long hours, and is far away. It makes me glad Christmas is nearly here.)

don't be a jerk

2009-12-10T06:00:00.000-08:00

visitors

2009-12-09T08:42:00.001-08:00

And just like that, the month rolls on.

My in-laws came to visit, and then we all went to visit a certain bearded fellow, much sought after this time of year.

I didn't expect my kids to really sit with him, but they did. They talked him up, poor guy.

I wish these days were longer, so I could get through work each day, keep the house clean-ish, do what I need to do to stay healthy and sane AND write, but I make no promises on this 24 hour plan.

Y tu? How are you holding up this December?

I guess that makes me the angry elf

2009-11-30T12:08:00.000-08:00

I thought maybe we could make ginger bread houses, and eat cookie dough, and go ice skating, and maybe even hold hands. Buddy the Elf

I live with Elf. We call him Bubby, for copyrighting purposes, but you get the idea. He is Smiles and Urgency and Squeals. Overly fond of syrup. He is wearing me out.

Now, don't get me wrong: Living with a perky elf has its advantages. He will get up early with a spring in his step, ready to take on the day. He loves people. He loves smiles. He has more energy and exuberance than he knows what to do with and I thank God for giving me such a cheerful little guy.

But at 6 am, sans coffee, I find myself shushing. When I am overwhelmed by laundry and dirty floors, I find myself growing irritable, which I am pretty sure makes me the angry elf in this scenario. (My apologies to Will Ferrell and the greater Elf population.)

So I am forcibly letting go (try that oxymoron on for size) of some of my neurotic 'I have to do Christmas this way' notions, for this little Elf is on loan, for a limited time engagement.

I don't do Black Friday

2009-11-27T08:20:00.000-08:00

The lines. The fighting. No, thanks.

I'm taking advantage of this week off and my ever better tootsie and heading to the gym here in a bit.

This is not to say I won't be venturing into stores here soon; I'm just putting off the inevitable and more trips to the craft store, which makes me shudder.

I took the kids to Michaels last Sunday, prepped and ready. I warned them that I would be there for a while. I warned them that crafty people, post-Halloween, can be surly and insane. I said there will be long lines, and I could very well be named Line Leader again. Still, they insisted they wanted to go.

Soon there was whining over little stuffed animals - please, no more! my house is littered with little stuffies - and why can't I buy this and how much longer and I thought we were going to Craft Warehouse and can't we go there now and Christmas is too far away.

And I found it's hard to be creative when you want to gnaw on your children.

I grabbed some 'necessities' and took my place in the long line, ignoring my kids' antics and wishes to buy ~~crap~~ point of sale tchotchkes. I think there was deep breathing. I know there was regret. And just when I was ready to blow, the kindest of elderly ladies wandered back from the line and handed me an extra coupon she had been carrying around with her. Just for some nice mommy like me.

I didn't correct her, of course, and if she read my mind, she didn't let on as she touched my hand and whispered, 'God bless you'.

And if a Christmas miracle in Michaels doesn't put me in the holiday spirit, I don't know what will.

I'm thankful for little reminders.

smart girls' club

2009-11-25T18:20:00.000-08:00

I am lucky enough to be part of the self-proclaimed Smart Girls' Club. (I don't remember how we came up with this name, but let's just say it's better than the inappropriate moniker we tried on for size before settling on one slightly less offensive, despite its elitist undertones.)

Truth is, I've always surrounded myself with smart girls. Witty women. Smart, sassy sisters. It's just how I roll.

Christine, Alisa & Sheila

The blond on the left? Supersmart and celebrating her birthday today. If you can look past our bad taste in perms and the sad sprout growing overhead, you can see it in her eyes: Her future was bright.

Sheila, me & Christine

So, here's to you, Mrs. Parker. Thank you for everything I took from our time together, and the way you continue to inspire me to be more.

Happy birthday, Christine!

PS: I looked high and low and tore apart my craft room this morning, searching for our Hans & Franz pictures from camp. (Mentally ill, who?) No luck today, but soon I will ~~embarrass us properly~~ put those girlie men to shame.

on (not) writing and other miscellany

2009-11-24T20:10:00.000-08:00

If you don't have the time to read, you don't have the time or the tools to write.: Stephen King, On Writing

It's true. I took a job, and two dogs and my days were no longer all my own. There were new demands on my time and body and the first thing to go was the reading. Soon, I lost interest in writing, and although it bothered me when I'd fall into bed each night, I also didn't see any way to do it any better.

So, I let it go.

And waited for a new season to unfold.

***

Want to stir the pot and watch fur fly? Decide you don't want to be Facebook friends with your best friend's ex after all. Never mind that it is an New Media relationship of little consequence. Just announce that you aren't comfortable reading his status updates and he'll get real offended like. Because you are mean. It would be funny if it wasn't sad, the anger so frightening.

***

I went to an acupuncturist for the first time on Sunday evening. On paper, I'm a wreck. On paper, I am pathetic or so it seems to me. We broke down my broken body, and got to work, my body covered in needles. It's my last resort I've been holding in my pocket, for when it gets to be too much. I have high hopes.

of skates and blood

2009-11-12T07:30:00.000-08:00

I have a new itch.

Well, at least I have been entertaining insane fantasies about joining a roller derby team ever since Whip it!

(Would that be a Roller Derbier? Roller Derby-ist? As you can tell, the learning curve is steep: I'm not even sure what the girls in the helmets are properly called. All I know is that they looked like they were having way too much fun, spinning around the track and taking out some aggression in cute little outfits. What's not to love?)

I'm not quite ready for rolling just yet, as I wait for my foot to heal so I'm stuck on the sidelines. (Quick update from the delinquent blogger: Stress fracture, left foot. Big drag.)

Holly, Stephanie and I chitchatted while a gaggle of our own skated their little legs off at Oaks Park before we made a pit stop for November 11th, part two: Dinner and Augusten Burroughs.

You know I had to pick the one with the bulldogs. Aren't they darling?

Now Shana will try to claim that she's his soulmate, as did half of the audience last night, but secretly he has always been one of my favorites, call that what you may.

(You'll be pleased to know we didn't rush the stage, ask for a vial of his blood or his number. Something tells me he wouldn't bat an eye, considering he was incredibly generous, and I think he is used to his somewhat creepy fan base.)

It was a might nice first Friday night, indeed.

post-parade

2009-11-10T08:36:00.000-08:00

The rain? Made an appearance. (I forgot my goggles.)
The boy? Donned his wear, and marched, and made it through. (He was miserable; I won't lie.)
The brave men and women that serve our country? We enjoy our freedoms, because of you.

Thank you.

better

2009-11-04T12:44:00.000-08:00

It's been brought to my attention that I sound all too gloomy here these days, and I guess it is true.

I feel differently now that I let summer go; funny how changing my mind has lifted my mood. I'm moving on and making plans and if anything, I am frustrated I don't have enough time each day to get to everything on my newly revised plate.

***

It was crisp and sunny out when we dusted off the bikes and went for a spin around the neighborhood, through a spray of red leaves, autumn's glitter.

We stopped off to visit Stephanie, a brisk layover before it grew too dark to ride back home, the three of us running with the moon at dusk, the smell of dinner and woodstoves in the cold air.

letting go

2009-10-29T12:29:00.000-07:00

Twenty five seconds into this meager first attempt at creating a mixed movie of some of the footage we took in Hawaii, walks the woman I was while away in August: Light, and goofy, unencumbered.

As it should be, while away from all earthly burdens, under the sun with my guy.

Not a day has passed that I haven't thought about this footage, how light my spirit felt while we walked the pathway to a picnic dinner on the beach, the dancing that followed.

The end of summer gave way to a gloomy fall and though the initial grief has passed, I still find myself quieter and more solemn these days. This isn't to say I don't have joy in my life; I do. I cultivate it. But I am more sorrowful and slower to laugh, and instead of just accepting this little phase I'm going through, I keep pushing myself to be that girl in the video again, amid the dead leaves and broken households and lonely nights when my husband is too far away from us.

That is what is breaking me. I'm chasing a lightness in me that has passed, as the days grow shorter and the wind howls outside in window.

****

The last of the yellow jackets has stumbled into my kitchen, passing the dogs on their way out, rummy and lethargic. It juts around the windowsill, in short jerky moves. My kids are afraid it will run them down, but it is no longer a thing of speed. Whatever spunk that carried indoors won't take it where it wants to go, peckish and neutered and dying.

It bounces off the ceiling light until I catch it, and put it out so we can both let go of summer, and days spent in the sun.

taking my Lego alter ego on the road

2009-10-21T05:28:00.000-07:00

I am up early with a puking puppy. (Yes, I have now managed to mention vomit in two consequent posts; my mother must be very proud.) I lead a very glamorous life.

It's dark and the rain is keeping my state Evergreen. I think I'll put on some coffee and work on a short story that I keep meaning to write while I send you over for shelter on The Porch, Women's Colony style.

I think it will make you giggle.

hover craft

2009-10-20T06:35:00.000-07:00

So I was preoccupied.

(World, who?)

My boy was sick, and lonely and begged me mercilessly to play Lego Indiana Jones forever and ever amen, until I gave in to his Vidiot* ways while the rest of the nation worried and wondered about a boy in a balloon.

Now by the time I had tuned in, said little boy - and I am loathe to give them any more publicity on my meek little media machine - had been 'found' and all was well or so it seemed.

I have to say I found the whole story to be suspicious because I watch enough NatGeo/Science/Nerdilicious-ness channels with my hubby to question whether that homemade balloon and basket combo could hold a boy.

Or maybe I was incredulous because I am pretty sure that if a Mylar balloon could be transformed into a functioning hover craft, my kids would fulfill their Up fantasies and they would be on your favorite cable channel right now, floating over Disneyland.

I'm just saying.

My gut feeling grew while we watched the family interviewed, not by Larry King, but by my girls on GMA. I was gazing at my laptop, typing away (pretend to be surprised) when I heard what can only be described as puking sounds on TV. Let's face it: Any mother worth her weight in diapers can recognize that distinctive heaving cough.

I watched, disgusted, as the little boy wondered off camera - alone - to vomit while his parents continued to make goo-goo eyes at the camera. Until one of the anchors suggested they check on their sick child.

I knew right there that something was wrong with this story, wrong with these people.

And I hated the way they had exploited their children and foiled a kind nation just to taste a little more limelight.

*Vidiot = VideoGames/Idiot. It's a term of endearment for my gaming offspring, coined by my Dad, after Wii marathons at his house. Or an insult, when on Lexi's lips.
**Does anyone else use this term or is it this family specific?

patch, pumpkin

2009-10-19T06:00:00.000-07:00

Cooler temperatures?
Check.
Gourds galore?
Check.
I love this time of year.

Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer

I may have went a little overboard with the camera.
*****

And Happy birthday to my little sister, Lori!

Gary

2009-10-16T09:08:00.001-07:00

We don't live in a pineapple, under the sea;

But look what she found: Gary! It's he!

(For my girl, she who loves all creatures.)

boy's best friend

2009-10-14T21:23:00.000-07:00

I'm a rotten mother, prone to worry. I'd much rather be strong.

When Zack was a bitty, bitty boy, a doctor once said - while he was very ill - that she didn't think we'd 'lose him', something that hadn't even crossed my mind at the time.

It was the beginning of many lab tests and doctor visits and I've always thought it traumatized him. I know it did me.

So when he woke up this morning, one side of his neck swollen and red, with dark circles under his eyes, it hit me again: I wonder when I will stop seeing him as that fragile 2 year old? I wonder if it ever goes away, after you dodge the proverbial bullet.

*****

We had medical insurance when Lexi was a baby, but it didn't include vaccinations during her well visits, a policy hiccup that put shots nearly out of reach when we were narrowly living paycheck to paycheck. I sought mobile clinics, rows of mothers and howling babies and strollers snaking around a silver motor home parked in a vacant lot. It was the best way to get cheap shots.

I remember when Lexi was one, it took two nurses and my able arms to hold her down, her chubby little thighs lodged between the nurses'.

She was always the picture of health. Strong, vibrant.

*****

My boy will be home for a few days, as his body fights what the doctor believes is an infection in his lymph nodes.

We snuggled in bed this afternoon, watching a week's worth of Spongebob in one sitting. Jake curled his body around Zack, his boy, licking his puffy neck while Zack caught up on some sleep.

Somehow, watching my big teddy bear of a dog stand guard eased my mind.

2nd Story

2009-10-09T14:37:00.000-07:00

6:23 am.

My fantasy, sleeping in - sleeping in until 7 - dashed.

Fourteen pounds of brawn between me and my unidentified offspring, creeping into bed with me. Fourteen pounds of puppy dog, making up for all the months she played mute, Jo-Jo the shirker not doing her part.

****

5:07 pm.

We arrived at our designated depot, birthday girl in hot boots in tow. We laughed through dinner and drinks before taking our shifts at the Bagdad, while Jen saved our seats and 2nd Story took the stage.

Five storytellers took the stage and took us on an adventure: Near tears, and howling with laughter. Five ladies, out on the town, celebrating 39 years and waiting on the good that is surely on its way.

sniffles: the mama milton approach

2009-10-05T08:03:00.000-07:00

So someday my boy in the Bat-Former jammies - we mix and match pjs these days - may or may not complain in therapy about my alternative medicine leanings, but for now he's a willing ~~guinea pig~~ participant in my antics.

I've plied him into drinking some kombucha, where few others will tread; he loves magic socks.

And now? He's running around, moonwalking and singing and chasing the dogs.

*****

Here's another little something something we brew up when we are under the weather, plucked right out Nourishing Traditions. Easy and soothing and good on a sore throat.

Coconut Chicken Soup

1 quart chicken stock (I used homemade bone broth; you could use canned, if you don’t have any fresh stock)

1.5 cups of coconut milk or 7 ounces creamed coconut

1/4 teaspoons chile flakes

1 teaspoon freshly grated ginger

juice of 1 lemon

sea salt

3 scallions

1 tablespoon chopped cilantro

1. Bring stock to a boil, and skim any foam that rises to the top.

2. Add coconut milk or creamed coconut, lemon juice, chile flakes and ginger. Simmer for 15 minutes. Season to taste with salt and garnish with cilantro.

wishes

2009-10-01T17:29:00.000-07:00

First my well went dry, and I had very little to say.

And then I hit the wall, and had to admit I'm a teeny, weeny bit depressed. (Cue the dark paneling and bad polyester pants.)

Now I'm just putting one foot in front of the other, and looking up.

I may not be prancing, but I'm back.

under construction

2009-09-12T07:56:00.000-07:00

Mama Milton is under construction right now.

She will be back shortly.

Really.

likes, September Edition

2009-09-08T07:54:00.000-07:00

Finishing a book I've been carrying around for weeks...

(It reminds me of The Secret History, by Donna Tartt. Really.)

Sucking Butterfingers out of my teeth, at the end of a good movie.

Warm feet, compliments of one lumbering puppy.

Good friends + good wine and this woman's laugh.

teary

2009-09-04T16:14:00.000-07:00

I find myself with front row tickets to Heartbreak, the saddest show in town. I'm watching a family dissolve, up close and personal, and not just any: They are people I love and I find no comfort in philosophy or psychology.

I cry for my friend, and her boys, and my people, the community of friends that are family to me.

I cry easily and unexpectedly these days; I'm cracked, and fragile.

And when I stop sniffling, the joy is sweeter. It really is.

firsts

2009-09-02T11:31:00.001-07:00

I heard him scurrying, collecting books on the loft bed before dawn, unable to sleep.

Both kids bounced out of bed this morning, anxious and curious to see what the day would bring.

Lexi walked with a friend to the bus stop, making strides further her own way - which is right and good.

And Zack wore a hole in the carpet, disgusted with this new late start school schedule.

They pulled away, one at a time and I loaded up the dogs and headed for the lake, to walk in the mist and fog and dream about what this year will bring my way.

reunion

2009-08-28T06:00:00.000-07:00

As in, I'm old enough to be attending my 20 year reunion tonight, post-perm, circa 1989.

I'm headed up the mountain to toast twenty years, and then we are off to the coast to spend time with my family over the weekend. See you on Monday!

(PS: Mrs. G is running one of my posts over at the Women's Colony today, in the family room - a groupie's dream come true.)