The house on Crabtree

After yesterday, if you asked me if I would rather scrub floors on my hands and knees or be tied and quartered, I would undoubtedly choose scrubbing. Seriously, who would choose having their appendages ripped from their bodies? Still, I spent five hours yesterday on my hands and knees scrubbing and scraping 8 years of gunk off wood floors and I have to say, I could think of better ways to spend a day. At the same time, stepping back and looking at the gleaming floors was incredibly satisfying. The best bruises are surely results of a job well done. My parents are on the home stretch of readying Crabtree Cove to be rented. It will be strange to see the house occupied by non-family. I have lived there for 9 years cumulative, with my Granny and Aunt/Uncle there in-between. We have all laughed about the things we have done to the house in the last month that we had wanted to do while living there and never did. I always wanted a deck and stain free floors. To repaint my kitchen so that it didn’t resemble an office in Santa Fe in the 70s. In my defense, those colors looked very different in the idea booklet. Not at all like pink, peach and green. So it is, as of noon today, we will be done repairing and officially renting the home. This is a great thing for my parents but the end of a legacy. Before my parents moved in, imports from California in ’95, it was occupied by Great Aunt Gwen and before her, second or third cousin Debbie. While the pink tile was an interesting decision, she was the one who added to the house; doubling the size and outpacing the neighborhood. Over the years, the neighborhood has changed. When we first moved in, it was a neighborhood of families that has now become a street of rent houses. We used to spend summers riding lawn mower pulled wagons through the pecan trees outback. Playing basketball…no blood, no foul. Making mental notes to run to Mr. Odeburg’s storm shelter in the case of tornado. In fact, it was Mr. Odeburg that taught me to play billiards and to wave at people when you drive by. Walking down the street today you would more likely be abducted than find childhood adventure but I remember laying on the trampoline out back, unattended, thinking and watching the stars through the branches of our tree. Maybe that is part of why I fell in love with the tree at the house we bought in May. I am thankful to be done but would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little sad. It is the home where I had my first date, first car, first prom (Sorry…Jr/Sr banquet…dancing is evil). It is where Tina cut up paper into homemade confetti every New Year and at least one and sometimes two sisters ended up in my bed each night. It is where my Pop made the garlic shrimp pasta and William played Amazing Grace on violin. It is where John asked my dad for permission to date. It is where my Christmas tree, too tall for the room, was set up topless each year. It is where I brought two babies and where I decided to buy my first home. For every morning that I hated that house while I was freezing, hovering over the sole floor heater, I will always be thankful for it. I hope it brings the same wealth of memories and experiences to its new occupants. I can only imagine that it will.

A matter of opinion

I hate the word "why".

He Crawls

About a month ago, Ben became mobile. This, of course, was unfortunate in that the first day he discovered his freedom, I was laying on the couch, throwing up everything in my stomach and then some. So, as I lay there, making some barely audible groan, I notice out of the corner of my eye that Ben is not where I set him. Great. Fast forward four weeks and we have a Ben proof house. Gates for the kitchen. Bottom two shelves cleared. Not out of forethought but out of, "He just pulled your cup off the shelf!!!"

With the natural progression of things, the crawl has progressed to pulling up. So now the examination of the vent can run right into the exploration of blinds.

Even with every tipped over cup and found bobby pin on floor, I still forget that everything on the floor will come in contact with two 11 month old hands. So was it with the trash bag full of mail I was sorting though today. I walk away for but a second and come back to find this.

Which soon becomes this...

He loves to pull up my using my knees. Usually he gives me love but today he had another goal in mind.

I had forgotten the crawling stage, mostly because Joshy never really went through it. He went from Army crawl to walking and only then at 15 months. I have spent two years since then dropping my bobby pins wherever I well please. Still, I know to enjoy each stage because crawling becomes climbing and and climbing becomes jumping from. And I have had three years of learning just how fearless little boys can be.

Staring Game

Lounging around the living room this evening, Joshy and John decided to play the "staring game" (i.e. the game where you stare at each other and the first one to laugh loses). Tonight Joshy picked up a new tactic. I had to share because I died laughing. Who knew panting was the secret shoe in for the win?

Conversation I was having at 5:00 this morning...

(whispered) Mama? *tap tap tap*

What Joshua?

If you get too close to a polar bear they will bite you?

Yes.

Why?

Because they are scared of you.

If I see a polar bear I have to run into mama's house?

You need to stay with mama so she can keep you safe.

If you get too close in the forest, the bear will bite you?

If a bear is attacking you in the forest, lay down on your stomach and pretend you are sleeping.

If the bear bites you on your head you lay down on your tummy like this?

Yes, but before he bites you on the head.

If you get too close they will bite you because they are scared?

Yes.

Oh... Is it time to get up?

No. Go back to bed until it is light outside.

Polar bears live in the snow?

Go to bed.

Till it is morning time?

Yes.

I like being cold.

Bed. Now.

Polar bears will bite you if you get close?

Yes. Just lay down here next to mama.

Mama?

What.

I'm thirsty.

(Oh to have Saturdays mean sleeping in again...)

The boys at the park

Oklahoma City Thunder

For my Dad's birthday we decided to attend our first Oklahoma City Thunder game. Ross was able to buy discount tickets through his work. So, for $1.00 less per ticket, we got prime seats in the furthest most row of the furthest most section. Ben was quickly en route to bed time and would just begin to settle down when the crowd would erupt, jolting him awake in our arms. Perhaps an evening game was not the best idea. I have never understood why the trainers have to do all the stretching of players on the court. Why would you want some dude massaging your butt muscles in front of 3000 people? Why not just run around missing 50% of your layups like the rest of your team. By half time and the ping pong piano player (actually more entertaining than it sounds), Joshy, too, had worn down. He was laying down on Jessi's shoulder, one eye closed and on eye making sure no one else took a bite of his pretzel. You know he has had his fill when he asks to go home. They had the volume in the arena ridiculously loud and as we loaded into the car, the last thing Joshy said was that he never wanted to hear that sound again. I won't hold him to it because he might change his mind when sitting in seats that aren't parallel with the ceiling speakers. Per those left behind, it was a nail biter or whatever sports phrase applies that I don't care enough to learn but we pulled through with the win. Go team.

An exercise in skill, obsession and way too much free time...

Amelia Island - Sunrise, Service, Skeet and Surf...and Airport Edition

Waking up Monday morning, the clock may have said 6:00 but my body definitely still felt 5:00. The time difference was only an hour but of all the hours, the one between 5 and 6 can be the difference between good morning and get out of my face until I have found caffeine. Half way through attempting to reconcile hair that dried over night betwixt pillow and head, I hear LeAnn yell "sunrise" and throw open the drapes. Having spent so few mornings waking up ocean side, it had not even dawned on me that we were missing the sun rising against the Atlantic.

Breakfast was held in the heated seaside tent, however, as we moved into the conference hours, we found ourselves in the air conditioned rooms meant to keep speakers in suit jackets from risking dehydration by way of sweat. Minus one suit jacket, I was feeling a little less than temperate and so, during a break, I set out to find some cider. I had seen a pot of it when we checked in and therefore headed towards the front desk. The cider was not where I had remembered seeing it and so we started to glance around, wondering if I had imagined said cider in my mind. Seeing us, a concierge asked if we needed help. We mention that we are looking for cider and without hesitation he says, "I will find you some" and takes off in a hurried walk. It may just be my lack of experience with all things money, but usually when I say "I am looking for the cider" the response involves annoyed glances and "I don't know"s. Never once has someone taken off in a sprint to attend to my request. LeAnn and I just looked at each other and almost in unison stated that this SO beats Holiday Inn Express.

BOA put on an excellent conference with sessions very much in keeping with the information I had hoped to reap from the two day trip. Monday night, they had the makings of a seaside event for the conference dinner. There was steak and shrimp, chicken and oysters, salad and gumbo and on and on. As part of the on and on, they had fried green tomatoes. Seen the movie? Yes. Ate the tomato? No. I grabbed a few, thinking that I would give it a try and have to say, they were amazing. I have no idea how to make them or where you would even go in Oklahoma to eat them, but I have to tell you that if I thought the tomatoes would have kept, they would have been missing one platter that the Ritz would have just had to throw in with incidentals.

Speaking of incidentals. As with most hotels, to use their wireless service they charge a fee. I paid for 24 hours thinking that I would just not sign on once it expired. That night I had no issues, nor any next morning. However, that afternoon, I could not, for the life of me, get the computer to connect. Being the self-sufficient computer user my husband has groomed me to be, I worked through troubleshooting 101. Reboot the machine. Release and renew. Reboot the router. Finally I give up and call the business center who sends a technician my way after I make it clear that there is nothing they could suggest that I in all my wisdom have not already done. When the technician arrives, I quickly get him in the loop as well, surely impressing him with my technological expertise. He looks at it, walks over, flips on the hall light and says "Give it a shot". Up the internet loads. Right.

Along with the food, they had set up a skeet shooting area for us to shoot laser skeet. The guns were real but equipped with lasers in the stead of bullets and little "ping" noises in the place of kick. Five would step up to shoot at a time and as per usual would have two shots per pull. Having never held a shotgun before, I was not expecting much when LeAnn decided that she wanted to jump in and play. The good news: I apparently rock at fake skeet. The bad news: LeAnn had safety issues and spent most of the game hearing "Number 1, do you have your safety on?" It is understandably hard to hit the skeet when your gun doesn't fire and her grand total came in at an impressive 1. On the up side, she did tie the number 2 gun who had no safety issues at all. The crowd behind jokingly called me Sarah Palin as my score climbed. Apparently they were not aware of a game called "Duck Hunt" I owned as a child. And they say video games are a bad influence. Without it, I wouldn't have been able to impress a bunch of bankers relishing the open bar.

Tuesday morning I was definitely feeling the shirley temples and inordinate amount of smores from the night before. Not needing to hear the session on global capabilities, LeAnn and I decided to instead spend at least an hour on the beach before leaving later that day. How can you be that close to the Atlantic and not at least get your feet wet? I had stopped on the walkway to take some pictures and she had wandered ahead when I hear her making some commotion and pointing at the ground. I hurry over and find this:

From the look on her face I don't think she was certain whether it was dead or alive. Most certainly dead. The thought crossed my mind about taking it with me, but some how I imagined it a hard sell to the TSA screener. Zoologist or no, that tail could be used as a weapon. Your one-legged brother will just have to be disappointed. When put on the spot, I can never think of the good lies (see: headless hamster).

We did manage to get our feet wet and through underestimation of wave strength, a bit of our jeans too. Nothing says comfort like wet jeans on a cold, windy day. The wind was strong and had just enough bite to keep you aware of its presence but not enough that you wish it to leave. The sky was clear so the sun warmed your cheek as the sand crept up between your toes. In the summer I am not much of a beach person. Have never been big on watching people roast in the sun and have a rather strong fear of sea creatures eating my feet. However, on a day like that day, I could have thought of nothing better than to be on that beach.

We left Tuesday afternoon to jet home in time for work Wednesday. Walking into the Jacksonville airport, I needed to run to the bathroom before boarding the plane. I would just like to say how hard I smiled at the sight of a bathroom, no longer only for the ideal woman, but for women of all shapes and sizes. Even those of us who've had two kids and even more s'mores.

It was hard to leave the Ritz life behind. After only two days, I had already grown accustomed to the toilet phones and beckon call service. I had told my crew, in jest, that it would ultimately be okay as I was sure they would be willing to run at get me cider upon my whim and fancy. In fact, I suggested that Patrick just go ahead and change his title to Laura's Personal Concierge, a task Roxanna stated she would jump right on. Having forgotten about the conversation, I was sitting at my desk Wednesday morning, barely awake when I smell a cup of cider over my shoulder. Sure enough it was Patrick, with Roxanna and others hanging in the door. I am so thankful to be surrounded by people who make me laugh.

Amelia Island - Bathroom Edition

Today Leann and I flew into Jacksonville, FL for a purchase card conference hosted by Bank of America. Going in, I knew that we were staying at the Ritz Carleton and had in my mind that those were usually nice hotels. Of course, using nice as a descriptor for hotels with doors on the inside and more tourists than truckers. Flying here, we were blessed with seats on the smallest plane I have had the pleasure of flying. In fact, on the first leg, we were overweight and had to sit and wait until someone was willing to give up their seat. So there we sat, all trying to not make eye contact with the bearer of bad news in the bright red sweater. All wishing we had packed one less pair of shoes. Or at least those of us who pack for two days as though they are staying for a week. No need to name names. *cough* Leann *cough* One person less and two hours later, we made it into the Jacksonville airport where the Bank of America representative was waiting. Waiting, in fact, with a sign. I have secretly always wanted to be the person someone was waiting for with a sign. If it had said my name, I very well may have crapped by pants. As we pull into the hotel, I start to think that nice could be an understatement. As we fumbled into the room we started the ritual of checking out the essentials. Bathroom. Check. Toiletries in bathroom. Check. Phone in toilet. Check. Okay, so we may be out of our league. The bathroom is just beautiful, even the hair dryer gets it own bag. No wall installation here.

The toiletries themselves include your standard soap and shampoo but throw in toothbrush, shaving kit, nail file, polish remover, swabs, etc, etc. Oh but it gets better...

ROBES!!

After we were done playing with the amenities, we settled down to the sound of the Amazing Race. All of a sudden, we hear a knock at the door. We exchange glances, neither expecting a visitor and Leann gets up to peak outside. As she opens the door, I hear the voice asking if we would like turn down service. Turn down service. Caught off guard, we declined, however, I now wonder what exactly turn down service involves. Do you just stand there and watch while they pull back the bed? Is that when you know you've made it? You no longer have pull back blankets on your bed? Is it more than that? Do they tuck you in? What I do know is that even if you don't let them in, you still get the chocolates. Which seems a nice alternative to the strangers making me snug as a bug in a rug. The rich are weird.

Halloween 2008

This was the first official Halloween to go Trick or Treating. I can not remember exactly what we did last year, but I know that it did not involve walking around our old neighborhood where you had a higher chance of scoring a drug deal than candy. So around 7:00, we suited up the boys, grabbed our pumpkins and headed out. Before they left I wanted to get some pictures of them in their costumes. I had set Ben down on the sidewalk to snap some shots but couldn't find the golf bag. I finally spotted it with Joshy who was counting the clubs in the bag. What a smart ninja. Oh and yes, I realize that the ninja is minus one face mask but Joshy has never been a fan of things that cover up this face. So, he is just a ninja of the knight variety. All he cared about were the weapons anyway. Well, and apparently how many clubs there were in the bag.

I really had no need to get the clubs from Joshy because Ben had no interest in playing around with them. He was much more interested in leaves. I give you Ben and the Leaf in three acts.

Act 1: Acquire the leaf

Act 2: Insert the leaf

Act 3: Did he just put it all the way in his mouth? Crap.

We never were able to get it out. Score one for the roughage.

Tina wore her Witch costume, complete with ghost and fan to keep it inflated. Jess asked Joshy, "What is aunt B?". She is a witch. "Right now or all the time?". All the time. Way to set up the slam.

As I was going through Jessi's pictures at the end of the night, I came across the following. The ninja killing the mouse. Wonder how the daycare will respond when he tries to recreate the shot at school. Um, I think your child is trying to kill the other children. Oh, it's okay, he's just pretending.

Our new neighborhood is the perfect place to Trick or Treat. There are so many young families with children Joshy's age. We were part of many trekking up and down the streets. Plus, I got to hand out candy to real children in all types of costume. Not just teenagers with basketball jerseys and pillow cases. Once we ran out of candy, we all just sat around and watched The Great Pumpkin while Joshy tried to con his way into more candy. It was a good night.

Litlle Tokyo

While I was at the AFP Conference during the day, John Nathan stayed around the hotel, eating at questionable noodle shops and snapping shots of Little Tokyo. My only request was that he steer clear of the Little Tokyo mall. The place where sanitation and safety go to die. At the end of the day, I would look through the pictures he had taken and came across one of a mural. Completely unaware to him was the fact that an older man was walking by the mural at the exact time he shot it giving it perspective. I am so impressed by him. Both his absolute lack of fear for eating at restaurants where the food may or may not still be living and having the eye for beauty where some would only see the unkempt streets and the armed men trying to hijack your car.