Birthday Time!

I expect to see my husband on my birthday again in 2014, when it will fall on a Saturday.  But not before.  Why? you may ask.  Simple: the U.S. government hates me and is engaging in a ruthless, petty campaign to keep Kris away each time I get older. I guess it must be all that rude stuff I say about how the politicians on both sides of the isle are just corrupt narcissists who don't know their elbows and scapulae apart.  In any case, he was gone again this year.  In spite of it all, I have to call this one of the best birthday's ever. 

The celebration started before Kris left, with a present he and my parents conspired to produce: a Kindle.  At the rate I accumulate library fines, I think it's going to save us money before long.  I've got 30 of the classics lined up to go (everything from Walden to The Book of the Dead) and they are all FREE.  I love it.  Incidentally, Kris does too...

On the actual anniversary of my birth, I received two most excellent gifts from none other than God: a gorgeous sunrise and the flowering of our plum tree.  I was made to be born in the spring.

But the joy didn't end there.  No, no.  Next up was an entire batch of blondies and caramel sauce, created and delivered by a good friend of mine (who drove 40 miles to drop them off).  I tell ya, that is either love or an attempt to sabotage the size of my butt.  Could be both, but at least I smiled as my pants got tighter...

Then Sierra came down and spent the night.  We had a ball!  She drove me around to every flower store and bullied me into buying a small fortune worth of English Daisies to plant in my flower beds.  Then she gave me spa night, with a pedicure and back massage.  Those little midget fingers are magical, I tell you, magical!  Sisters are the best.

When Kris came home he surprised me with a wonderful at-home date.  He found three new gourmet recipes for me to try and then bought all of the fancy ingredients and had them put away as a surprise for when I got home for work.  We cooked together and results looked like this:

 It's creamy pasta with bay scallops and cilantro, and beet-pear salad with lemon dressing and pistachios.  For dessert, we had chocolate bread pudding. Why does anyone ever go to a restaurant?

From the things mentioned above to the thoughtful cards, texts, emails, phone calls, etc., this birthday was a wonderful reminder of the joy in being loved by so many special people.  And now here's one last picture, of me with the flowers Sierra bought and the rose my thoughtful brother sent for me to plant.

And one last pearl of wisdom.  My trick for feeling great about getting older is this: I don't dress up the day before my birthday.  That way when it is my birthday and I do shower and wear nice clothes, apply deodorant, do my hair and make-up, etc., I can look in the mirror and say, "Dang!  I get better looking each year!" 

Oh, Crafty Me!

Confession: I spend too much time (that I don't have) reading craft blogs.  Yep, I said it. It's just that there are so many clever people in this world and I love feeling inspired to create things myself.  Sometimes I copy other people's projects exactly.  Most of the time, I take things other people have done and modify them to my own whims.  Rarely, I'm wise enough to think of something all by myself.   This post will unveil a few of those middle children (the modified ideas):

First up is this baby blanket I recently made for a friend's baby shower.  Her nursery is purple and blue and I wanted to make something that she would like looking at.  Let's face it, as cute as traditional baby things may be, I'm pretty sure that babies don't actually have "taste" or fashion sense.  So should a mother really be stuck looking at prints designed for someone who can't even focus on anything farther away than six inches?  Moms do a lot for their children; dunno if that has to be one of them.  (But just in case you planned on giving me something like that someday, when baby girl arrives, just forget I mentioned it.  Baby animals and pastels ARE cute, and free trumps any day... Oh, wait, did you catch that?  Your reward for reading this rather dull collection of musings is this: We recently found out that our baby is a girl and she's only three months away!).  Anyhow, here is Crafty Project #1:

Ignoring the fact that nothing about it looks good with that chair, I think this blanket turned out rather well.  On to Crafty Project #2:

Wait for it...

I stole this idea from the Amish.  I know, I know, could anything sound more wrong?  We love visiting Kris's parents in Ohio and Susan almost always takes us to the Amish country.  One of the goods they sell from their cottage industries is a very similar concept to this crayon roll.  I made mine out of a cheapo placemat and some scraps.  It's for a niece's birthday and I think it's pretty sweet.  One thing I learned: contrast stitching is a BAD idea when you aren't that proficient at sewing straight lines.  Moving on to Crafty Project #3:

So this isn't a craft at all.  But my take on a gift from Allrecipes.com is delicious.  It's called "Grapefruit Crisp" and it's my new favorite breakfast food.  This may offend some of you (the crazy ones who think a lightly salted grapefruit is the only way to go), but you gotta try it!  Basically, you make a crumbly topping from brown sugar, oats, flour, pinch salt, cinnamon, and butter.  Slice the grapefruit and use a knife to separate the sections, just like normal.  Then top, bake at 350 for about five minutes and finish with a minute under the broiler.  Eat and marvel.  If you doubt me, just consider this: anything that can make something healthy unhealthy is usually pretty dang good.

And that's it.  Now I'm off to plant pansies and make some supper.  But here's one last random fact: I thought that they were "gratefruits" until I was 20, and I still had to Google it for safety while writing this post.  Isn't it amazing the power a wayward childhood idea can have?

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!