Joie de Vivre

I am full of it.  Well, I'd better clarify that one.  It's the joy of living I'm full of (no matter what my dad says).  Seriously, just Friday on my way home from work, I counted three totally unrelated people who were walking down the street while playing rowdy air-guitar solos.  Then there were the couples walking hand-in-hand, and the moms out jogging behind strollers.  My tulip bulbs have already yeilded prolific foliage.  This week, I will take copper pruning sheerers to last year's dry rose canes and hear the hollow thunk of renewal.   

A couple of days ago, baking quiche, I got teary from the musical clapping of knife and cutting board.  The graphic beauty of tomato slices in full bloom on a bed of cheese?  Let's just say that one put me over the edge.  I stared at the bowl of oranges on my freshly polished kitchen table for a ridiculous amount of time.

It all comes down to this: It's spring, people, and I am in love!  

Junk Fest 2011

Well, it came and went: The Super Bore.  Bowl.  Let's be honest-- until I was 23, I thought that the Steelers were named for the action of stealing and therefor despised them.  And the Packers?  There is nothing worse than packing for a trip or move.  So really, who was there to root for this year?  Any year? 

We never watch the "big game."  But this time, I decided not to let a loathing of overproduced football stand between me and an equal right to consume unearthly quantities of lard and mashed beans.  A new family tradition was born: Junk Fest.  This year's celebration began with cake and ice cream at  the neighbor's house (Harold and Cleone, the 87 year-olds over our back fence and our only friends in this drag of a town...I'll say it, we spent New Year's Eve with them, playing Skipbo and gorging on banana splits til all hours of 10:30.  Those two ROCK!).  We followed it up with tortilla chips, cheesy bean dip, and homemade guacamole.  But what did we do while stuffing our faces?  Nothing.  That's the beauty of Junk Fest.  It's so honest.  There's no excuse-making or pretense about it.  It's just a pure Epicurean experience.  Real.  Refreshing.  And it comes to you, highly recommended.

Buckskin Dance (Eulogy for Una)

When once the moon, fat from waxing
and turning,
              turns its slow march toward darkness—
recall the revolving of kaleidoscope feathers
fluttering from shadow
to light,
children, all, of
             cordite
                          flame
and the timbre of Earth’s own heart.

When once clay and bone, made ashes from burning
and learning,
learn
to rest upon the wind
and years make you forgetful and me forget…

May we both remember what we both know—
You visited me this morning on the lips of a poem.

New Year's Surprise

Hmmm. So I'm not really too sure how to start this post. I think it should have something to do with fruit comparisons and tight fitting clothing or maybe some wry humor about cravings and growing feet. A picture of something I’ve peed on? I think that's the traditional way, but...there's nothing traditional about this pregnancy...

That's right, I said it: we're pregnant! All three of us. Kris says it's kind of like polygamy. (Joke, people, joke!)

But seriously, Kris and I are pleased to announce that one cool birthmom has selected us as the parents of her baby. We first heard from Stephanie a little before Christmas, and then emailed back and forth every day for two weeks. Last week we finally got to meet her and she is an absolute doll. Stephanie allowed us to tag along to her first doctor's visit and I can't even describe how amazing it was in that moment when the ultrasound screen went from black nothingness to a tiny, squirming LIFE. Incredible. Here it just looks like grey smudges.  Sorry about that.

The baby is due in July, and we’re thrilled.

***
You know, when you tell people that you're adopting, you get a lot of mixed reactions. Some people offer you their children. My boss cried (likely at the hopeful prospect that this might finally be the year they get rid of me). One of my coworkers began jumping up and down, shouting with joy. A lot of people just automatically start telling you about every heart-breaking adoption horror story they've ever heard, connected to the aunt's nephew's cousin's friend of someone they once sat next to on a plane. It’s always an adventure. Don’t believe me? Next time you’re stuck at a boring work party, try telling people that you’re adopting. Things get lively, real quick!

This is a scary time—adoptions don't always work out and we'll be on pins and needles until the last paper is signed. If things go amiss, we'll definiely be crying on your shoulder.  But, we've decided not to let that possibility keep us from being happy now. So the next time someone reacts with dire warnings, here’s my planned response: “Yeah, well, the odds that YOU will develop hemorrhoids are 25:1.” I did not make that up. The probability that the sketchy website I found it on did is like 12,000,000:1. Nevertheless, consider yourself warned: If you respond to this post, do so with overwhelmingly positive support, or ELSE. To quote, “I just got a new pacemaker; I can go all day!” Do you want me to have to also tell you that the chance of being on a plane piloted by an intoxicated man is 117:1? Or that the odds of YOUR child being a genius are 250:1 (Except for you, mom, that number is WAY lower for you…).


Alright now that the joking is over here’s the gushy stuff. Thanks for all of your support—it really does mean a lot and we appreciate the many ways that family and friends have been there for us through this journey. We love you guys. And we’ll keep you posted. :)

Merry and Bright

Christmas was very good to us this year.  We got to spend one night with my brother's family, three nights with my parents, and chill with my whole family and Kris's brother's family all together on Christmas Day.  What more could anyone need than good times with great family?  Oh, and did I mention that our stay was spent in a gorgeous cabin, lovingly decked out by my mom and dad and surrounded by snow?

 

We played games, made a snowman, instituted a new family joke (somehow "Cindy Crawford" became the answer to every question when we played the "Thing Game"), started a new family tradition (a Christmas skeet tournament, because nothing says "Happy Birthday, Jesus!" like a bunch of shotguns), ate too much good food, and came home with a new bag pipes cd.  Kris landed some new woodworking tools and I got a lable maker (!), some Avett Bros. cds, a sweet beanie, and a super-stellar flat iron.  We also got some nice greenbacks, a new wooden ornament for our tree, and a really cool family history compilation from the Bell side.  In short, we made out like bandits!   

So, who won the First Annual Robinson Family Christmas Skeet Shoot?  I guess that among other things, one up-side of marriage is that you can choose which family to claim when it's most convenient.

This is the official press-release photo of the winner (Kris, with an amazing 19/20 record) and his big brother, the runner-up.  Note that there are no Robinsons on the podium.  Ouch.   

At any rate, we had a great time.  Here's hoping for a happy New Year for all! 

Christmas 2010

During my college years I developed an underground addiction: reading archived Dave Barry articles.  The man is a comedic genius.  (I say that fully aware that this post will only contain an example of his potty humour--super sophisticated, I know.)  So although today was LONG (all 230 students of it), it was a fantastic day.  Why?  Because Dave Barry's "2010 Holiday Gift-Giving Guide" came out.  It's full of the craziest, real-life items.  My favorite this year?  Allow me to introduce, with absolutely no insinuations about any of my husband's sleeping habits, "The Better Marriage Anti-Flatulence Blanket."  I'll allow Dave to explain how it works:

"The Better Marriage Blanket is designed to improve marital bliss by absorbing odors emitted by a sleeping married person. According to the official website, the Better Marriage Blanket "contains the same type of fabric used by the military to protect against chemical weapons." That's right: We're talking about a military-grade defense against nighttime tooting. How does it work? Scientifically, here's how: "The molecules that cause the odor are absorbed and neutralized in millions of microscopic pores in the activated carbon so it has an almost unlimited capacity for eliminating odor." We imagine it would also be a huge hit on Valentine's Day. In fact it's the perfect gift to give any time you wish to express the heartfelt sentiment, 'You tend to cut the cheese in your sleep.'"

So for all of you last-minute shoppers out there...Kris appreciates your kindly consideration.

We wish you a Merry Christmas!

Remodeling...And Such

When you purchase a home, it's a given that you will discover (only after mortgaging your life and spending painful hours packing, moving, and unpacking) that there are a few things wrong that weren't listed on the property disclosure. So the stain on our living room carpet, previously and oh-so-coincidentally covered by a couch, didn't come as too big of a surprise. Neither did some dings in the paint. That the shower and tub in our upstairs bathroom produced only the tiniest trickle of water when turned on...that was a bit of a shock. Didn't we have a home inspector? And didn't he charge us hundreds of dollars to find stuff like that? Yes. And yes. A pox on his head!

But, that's not the end of the world. Especially when you are two people living in a two-bathroom house. But we always said that we'd fix it "someday." So imagine my further surprise when "someday" happened to fall on a Friday and turned out to be only the beginning of a lot of work. I came home a few weeks ago to find this:

It started with a simple plumbing job. It escalated to stripping everything down to the studs. It continues with a total re-tile, and a quantity of dust hitherto unknown. Ah, yes--and here's the crux-- a ridiculous number of new "necessary" tools as well.

I once thought of Kris as an innocent, at the mercy of the master "we-need-this-kitchen appliance" manipulator. I've been duped.