Sunday night...7:25pm

Natalie went pee-pee all by herself.

Now, I am well aware that most of you do not care about, and are rather disgusted by, the previous statement. But it is an analogy for a greater lesson, and for me, the statement speaks volumes beyond the proud report of my youngest child's autonomous bodily functions.

What that statement tells me, and in turn, I shall tell you, is that I don't need to baby her anymore. What that statement tells me is that I have to be ok with letting her do her own thing.

It tells me that I still need to cut her hot dog for her at dinner time, and pick out a matching outfit for the day (although she's quite vocal in letting me know that she DOES NOT LIKE the outfit I've chosen). But she has mastered this skill, as well as the other basic necessities for being away from me and doing just fine. She doesn't need me quite so much anymore.

The message clearly says: Mommy needs to move on and start focusing on her own life again.

Now, she didn't just pee...she's had that skill down for awhile now...but what she did was independently realize she had to go, and make a decision to take care of it herself. She was actually IN the tub at the time. I was in her bedroom, picking up dirty socks and scattered toys, when I heard the toilet flush. She had physically gotten out of the tub all by herself, gone to the bathroom, and then put herself back into the tub again.

These are complicated actions, people! Gone are the days of thoughtless release! Gone are the days of calling out for Mommy's assistance! This was a moment where my 3 year old child realized she could solve her own problem, and she went ahead and did it!

Mommy sits here in a strange mix of pride and sadness, while Natalie plays contentedly in the rapidly chilling bathwater. Mommy had a job interview this past week, and Mommy now realizes, it's really ok to take the job if they offer it.

Because my last baby (this is the very sad part for me) is growing up fast and growing up well. I've done things right and now it's time to get out of my sweatpants and get a haircut and move on to the next thing.

Whatever that is. But the pee-pee was a good thing. If your not a parent, just think of it as her moment of success. And mine.

All I need to be happy is.....?

Another blah day in Washington state. Where is Spring? It is cold here. And raining. And a little on the windy side.

I read on Facebook about my Maine friends all sweating it out in the heat today. I know my Hawaiian friends are sweating...but that's not unusual. I just don't get it. My plants and flowers have all bloomed, but now they are looking a bit limp and confused. Last Thursday or Friday night...I forget which one...but we had a frost! We had company over on Saturday evening, and we'd planned on grilling and eating outside. Nope! Instead we wrapped ourselves in sweatshirts and shivered while the kabobs sizzled on the grill. It was so chilly, we could see our breath in the air as we talked!

UGGHH! It's May! It's almost June! Well, I'm whining about this now, but with these odd weather patterns here in Washington, we'll probably get hit with the hottest, muggiest, sweatiest summer on record. And then I'll really be sorry I was lamenting the cool weather in the Spring.

The cold and dismal weather doesn't do much for my moods though. Or maybe it's just getting to be that "time" of the month...T.M.I.? Sorry. But I just feel like I have my own personal dark cloud following me around this week. I try to fight these feelings by staying as busy as I can. But it just doesn't always work. I end up all weepy and hating myself or weepy and growling at my kids, or weepy and useless.

Yesterday I spent virtually the entire day (no joke) on Ebay, trying to get my second hand listings up and available for people to buy and make me rich so I never have to work again! But maybe it's because I'm a meticulous person, or maybe it was just tedious doing it for the first time, but it really took me about 8 hours (on and off) to complete 6 listings!

You have to figure out the pricing. You have to figure out the shipping. You have to write a description of the product, including colors, visible markings, damage, and measurements. You have to list all your policies and upload photos. I hope in the future, that Ebay listings don't swallow my day like they did yesterday. And even with all that time and effort, my listings are still a bit plain. My photos ended up with an odd pinkish tint to them. And I'm wondering if listing something for 7 days doesn't seem like an eternity?

So, I'm just trying to be productive with my time. I am looking forward to Friday, because Brian has off work for a "family day" and we are going to do a trip to the Salvation Army and Goodwill and maybe a lunch at our favorite diner. I know, it sounds all to fabulous for one day, but that outing is the light at the end of my dark tunnel this week. I can't wait for it to be here.

How do you shake off this BLAH feeling? Food? Nope...that just makes me feel fat and guilty. Reading? Takes me away for a little while, but ultimately results in me feeling tired and wanting to crawl under the covers, even if it's 2:30 in the afternoon. Spending time with my loving family? Oh, sure. Especially if you love a belligerent 3 year old who doesn't listen to anything I tell her to do anymore and a teenager with the same issues. Going outside? Well, as I mentioned in Paragraph 1 today, there is not much reason to do that, with the cold and the rain and the ick of a nonexistant Spring.

Wish me a good day today, and maybe a better day tomorrow. Every day can't be a winner I suppose. ALOHA.

LOST: Our family's experience as bit players.

Busy weekend for my family. Sorry I didn't get to post at all. But we got a ton of stuff accomplished. I mowed the grass. Brian finished building the girl's playhouse. Grocery shopped for the week. We had company for dinner on Saturday night, and so had to clean the entire house beforehand. We finished hanging everything in the girl's bedroom (after painting last weekend), and completed a total organization of our basement! I wish I had before and after photos of that one...it is a major change. So..very productive and satisfying weekend.

But, it was all leading up to one thing. One monumental event. The LOST finale.

My family has a special connection to this show, as we had the privilege and pleasure of being able to work as Extras on the set in seasons 5 & 6. We lived on Oahu, HI, where the main headquarters of Grass Skirt Productions is located, and they shoot the majority of the scenes on that island. Honolulu is a metropolitan enough city that if the shot is taken from the right angle, it can easily become New York or Los Angeles. And the island scenery, well, that's just self-explanatory.

Our Extra work began when Natalie was about 4 months old. I was shopping at the Waikele Outlets with my Mom, and while browsing in Gymboree, the sales clerk wandered up to me. Instead of asking if we needed help finding anything in the store, she asked if we were residents on the island (as opposed to just tourists). She was eying my little sweetie in her carriage, but I was fairly used to baby-attention, so I didn't pay her any mind. When I answered that we did live on-island, she moved closer to the carriage, and hovered over the baby with increased interest.

She asked if Natalie had blue eyes (she was sleeping at the time) and I replied that she did. Smiling, she proceeded to tell me that she worked part-time for LOST, and Casting was always looking for blond, blue-eyed babies to play Baby Aaron. Boy or girl, made no difference, what mattered was the age and weight of the child. The girl who played his mom on the show (Claire) was barely 100 pounds, and she didn't like to tote heavy children. So the clerk gave me some contact information, and when Mom and I got home, I immediately called the Casting office. I mean, why not??

I'd watched LOST on and off over the years, so I was familiar with the characters and the storyline, but really, who could keep up with all that? I wasn't a faithful fan until we got personally involved with the show.

Mom and I were told to bring Natalie right away to the studio casting office, and believe me, nothing short of tsunami could have stopped us from getting there. They loved Natalie, and said they'd be calling us within a few days to give us a call time for her to be on set. Then, when I mentioned that I had 2 other children, the casting director asked that I forward her photos of my entire family for possible work in the future! Whoo hoo! We were thrilled!

In retrospect, it was not a huge stretch that they'd be looking for a blond-blue-eyed family. Most of the residents of Oahu are darker skinned islanders, and don't exactly look like they belong in the background of a shot of what is supposed to be a mainland city. Thus began our LOST experience. We actually were called to work so many times, I had to turn them down in a few instances. The pay isn't phenomenal, and it is A LOT of sitting/standing/waiting around. But of course, every opportunity was exciting.

Natalie only worked one day. We decided the stress of a long day on set and her disposition were not exactly suited for tv work. But the next call was for the entire family to work with Jeff Fahey (Captain Lepidus) on his first major episode. I had broken my leg (smashed it to bits is more like it) a couple of months earlier, so I could not work that time, but they took Brian and my two older daughters to be a Tourist Family. Casting filled my spot (the Mom)with a very pretty lady from Australia. They were working as what is called "featured Extras", where they actually interact with the cast members, and not just loiter in the background. They had a very memorable day on-set, with wardrobe and hair and makeup, and of course, they got to meet Lepidus.

Unfortunately, as with many of our future scenes, it was cut down to the bare minimum and Brian and the kids were not featured. The thing that always surprised me about LOST is that they literally pay thousands to hire Extras for every show. But then the majority of scenes are tight, closeup shots, and you cannot even see the many people they paid to create atmosphere, nor the elaborate sets they would build for the scenes. But hey, it's Network money, so what did I care?

A few months later, I was called for a solo spot as a Receptionist in an office scene. To my immense frustration, although my broken leg had healed enough for me to walk again, the weekend prior to their call, I had fallen yet again and wrenched my knee in a horrible sprain. I was back on crutches and I had to regretfully turn them down.

Casting called again shortly afterwards, and asked if my oldest daughter was available for a downtown shot, with Walt and Locke, to play a student at Walt's private school. Abby and I had a great time that day...they really take care of the Extras with catered meals and tons of snacks and drinks always available. We met lots of nice folks, and Abby became friendly with some of the kids after our repeated calls to the set.

That day was great for me, because we sat with a woman whom I'd met during our day shooting with Natalie. Law requires that when babies are on set, a registered Nurse must accompany them at all times. This woman was the Nurse who'd been assigned to Natalie during her scene. On this day, she was there as a Mom. not as a Nurse, because her own two daughters had been called to be Extras in the school scene.

During a lull between shots, we were all sitting at a table in a nearby restaurant. A wave of whispers swept the room when a major character came inside to enjoy the cool shade of the restaurant for a few minutes. It was John Locke, and he made a beeline straight for our table. Now, this Nurse was very pretty. Dark hair and skin, and just very attractive. Well, the actor came right over to say "hi!" to her, and it was apparent that they already knew each other from past work on the show. Abby and I sat like two stunned and silent idiots, staring up at him as he flirted with the Nurse right next to us. I wish now that I'd asked to get a photo (they frown on that, but if the actor says ok, then they can't really penalize you), or had the guts to say "hello", but I just smiled like a Cheshire cat and sat frozen in my booth. Awesome, Jen.

Abby ended up working the most of anyone in our family. She was called to be a student at the school when Locke takes a substitute teaching job (flash sideways) in Season 6. She was called to do background on the beach when Hurley shot his (flash sideways) reunion date with Libby. The highlight of that long, sweaty, day in the relentless Hawaiian sun was my thrilling view of Desmond, live and in-person. He'd never been my favorite character on the show, but when I saw him in person, I could barely lift my jaw off the ground.

All the extras were sitting like half-baked lumps in the shade of the Concessions tent, waiting for the Casting Paige to either release us for the day, or call us back to the set for more shots. They hadn't given us permission to order from the catering van, and so we all watched, drooling with hunger, as crew members lined up for their hot, mid-afternoon meals. From behind one of the many Star trailers that formed an impenetrable wall along the edge of Base Camp, came a tall, tan, wavy-haired man, who joined the line for afternoon chow, and glanced over at the crowd of Extras with a leisurely and charming smile.

Holy crap! In person, Desmond is just bowl-you-over-handsome! I reached into my bulging bag for my camera phone, but soon realized as I clutched it in my sweaty hand that jumping up and trying to get a picture of him would have been far too awkward and ridiculous. So, again, a frozen grin remained plastered across my face, and I stumbled with Abby back to the Wardrobe trailer when Casting finally released us for the day.

That was our last day on the LOST set. And after last night's tearful final episode, the show has finally come to an end. But we have more invested in the show than your average viewer. I truly feel for the entire cast and crew and behind-the-scenes folks that had one of the Best Jobs Ever for 6 happy years. Not to mention the notoriety and revenues it brought to the island of Oahu. That show was unique, innovative, and despite the confusing twists and turns, there is nothing that could even compare to it on tv today.

I just feel so lucky that we were able to be a part of it all. That my children will have these memories, and a scrapbook page, carefully crafted by yours truly, to help them to recall their television debut!

Goodbye, LOST! We love you all!!

Don't categorize me. Not yet, anyway.

This is not a Mommy Blog. This is not a Smart Shoppers Blog. This is not a Poetry Blog. Not a Sports Blog. Not a Celebrity Gossip Blog. Not a Vintage Blog, nor a Humor Blog nor an Inspirational/Religious Blog. I don't know what category I fall into just yet.

I think I got interested in writing my own blog because of my old friend, Mike. He started his own blog sometime last year. He's a teacher in South Korea, and he wrote a very amusing chronicle about the weird, cool, and sometimes frustrating, daily experiences of his life as a guy from Maine living in the land of kimchi. I say "very amusing" because he finds himself only "mildly amusing". Typical Mike.

Check him out at Mildly Amusing Korea.

So, I'm very late to the game as far as this blogging thing goes. Of course, any lame-o who lives in the year 2010 has heard of blogging. But I never really got it. Even though, as I stated on a previous post, I have more than enough to blab on and on about every single day, I never considered blogging as a possible outlet.

I figured it was for Mommy Bloggers, who posted pics and bragged about their children finger painting and going on Easter egg hunts and playing in piano recitals. Or it was for people who sold things, and wanted to cross-promote their shops and services with a newsletter-type thing. Or for Starbucks Intellectuals, who take graduate school classes and blog in some secret, smarty-pants, literary-type circles.

But after I read Mike's blog, I realized that pretty much anybody can do it. I mean, you have to have some skill, to garner yourself a following, but it really can be just a regular person, sharing the strange, wonderful, horrible, exciting and boring moments of their everyday lives.

Sometimes, just some pretty pictures or a famous name can get your blog out there. For example, Jorge Garcia's blog - Dispatches from the Island. That guy writes like, 2 sentences every other day, and posts a few pictures. But because he's famous, he has hundreds of followers. And yes, although his sparse entries annoy me a bit, I'm a subscriber.

My cousin's wife, who I've not had the pleasure to meet yet, (maybe someday?), has a great blog. She seems to be the Artistic Blogger type, which is so cool. She features lots of beautiful photos and links to her Etsy shop. It's not an outpouring of her personal thoughts and dreams, but it's a pleasure to look at. You can check her out at Monkey and Squirrel.

Another old friend recommended I read the blog of a plane crash survivor and mother of four. Her blog, Nienie Dialogues, is one I actually look forward to reading every day. I saw her on Oprah awhile back, and thought her story was very inspiring. I cannot imagine just doing the small things she does each day with the painful injuries she sustained. Her attitude is so positive, and her willingness to share her daily joys and hardships is touching.

One of my favorite blogs about vintage junk is Retro Renovation. This lady is all-in, as far as her knowledge about mid-century architecture, decorating, and collectibles. Her blog is chock-full of articles on every single thing you might ever want to know about renovating a retro home, or just making your current living space into a retro wonderland. The variety of topics you can read about could keep a person busy for days.

And once I opened my mind to reading these blogs, it was like a new addiction for me. There are blogs about every possible topic, all of my interests, all of my curiosities, my search for a laugh, and my never-ending desire to peek into peoples lives. I'm just one of those people who walks past a house at night, and cranes my neck to look through the front window into the neighbor's living room, all lit up from the inside. I'm just a curious person.

As with anything in my life, it took a little while for me to convince myself that I had something valuable to say. But then, hey, look at Jorge! If he can do it, why couldn't I?

Like I said, I know I'm late to this party. I know, from reading like, a bajillion random blogs, that there are as many people over blogging as there are starting a new one each day. One guy actually posted that blogging was ruining his writing skills. It was taking away his opportunity to gain perspective on anything. He was in such a hurry to blog everything as soon as it happened in his life, he'd become boxed in by the little snippets of information that he'd defined himself with. That guy was a little too deep for my taste, but I guess it can be a different experience for everyone.

So, right now, I'm blogging every day. I still don't have a respectable amount of followers. I have to stop worrying about if I'm entertaining anyone else and just focus on making each entry something that I would enjoy reading over again....maybe next year...when I'm sick of blogging and have run out of things to say.

Ha! As if....

Unpleasantly Plump

Here is a list of things I want to eat right now:

1. Spinach, swiss cheese, and tomato omelet from Frank's Diner. Served with crispy hash-browns and a butter-grilled, homemade biscuit.

2. A whole packet of cinnamon graham crackers, spread thickly with Nutella.

3. Large plate of fettuccine Alfredo with seafood from Olive Garden. And their salad. Not the bread sticks though, the garlic gives me stomach cramps.

4. Crispy cold Chef Salad (hold the ham) from Country Cupboard. With REAL ranch dressing. None of that "light" crap.

5. Country Cupboard Shoefly Pie for dessert.

6. Hot, cinnamon-loaded, thickly frosted sticky buns. I don't care from where. Just bring it.

7. My mom's Thanksgiving turkey dinner. With real mashed potatoes. (Not the lazy boxed kind I make). And stuffing. And cranberries.

8. Strawberry shortcake, with whipped cream.

9. Oatmeal raisin cookies, the softer and chewier, the better.

10. A big ol' bag of burned pretzels from the Amish farmer who makes them at the Lewisburg, PA farmers market. Yes, they do actually sell burned pretzels.

Yes, Jen is hungry today. Still trying to do the liquid-diet thing for two meals a day. I think it may have to do with my diabetes, but it doesn't seem to be working. I've almost accomplished 2 full weeks enduring this torture of food deprivation, and have yet to lose a pound. I know my calorie count is low...but with my diabetes, I still end up having to eat the occasional granola bar or carton of oj. Those necessary remedies for my low blood sugar issues cost me a hundred calories here, and a hundred calories there. It adds up. But I'm trying, really hard, and I'm not giving up.

Instead, I'm just fantasizing about food. Sipping tea in the long afternoons to fill my growling stomach.

Why is it that I cannot seem to lose weight anymore? Is it my age? Is it my metabolism? I get a decent amount of exercise. I'm no couch potato. I try to do 30-50 minutes of something at least 5 days a week. Some weeks I'm more dedicated than others, admittedly, but I'm trying.

I can't write anymore today. I'm preoccupied with food. I guess I'll head out to the local Walmart. Where the smell of the bread baking at the Subway will torture me further. Fun, Fun!

Green with Envy (read the blog and you'll get it)

My yard is better than your yard.

Not to brag or anything...but I'm pretty sure mine is better. The grass is as green as a St. Patty's Day leprechaun. The landscaping is a cheery riot of floral perfection. There are three small fruit trees (I think one is cherry, and one is a crab apple, but am unsure of the third just yet) and three raised beds. Inside one of the beds is a wildly growing crop of strawberries. The second has some fragrant herbs spilling over the sides. The third is vacant as of today, but we bought some tasty vegetable seeds to plant.

I have a beautiful, inlaid patio with fire pit. I have a pergola with an attached bench. I have a gurgling stone fountain, turned on and off, conveniently, by a light switch on my spacious deck.

It's a wonder...honestly. And the biggest wonder of all is how we ended up with something so nice. You see...Brian and I lack creative imagination in the home-landscaping area. Granted, we've always lived in base housing prior to this, but there were only postage-sized yards to work with there. Our prior accomplishments include the removal of ugly, red, lava-rocks from our Hawaii yard, and replacing them with (the creative choice) some nondescript grey and white rocks. I've been known to lay down a sassy Welcome mat and maybe even pot a seasonal flower or two. And Brian, well, lets just say our previous yards had to have grass tall enough to lose a small child in before he'd find the motivation to rev up the lawnmower.

So, here we are. We have a yard that could honestly garner a few "oohh's! and aaahh's!!", and we haven't the slightest idea how to deal with it. Brian has cut the grass several times already, and in his defense, he is much more interested in doing yard work now that we own the property. I've had the girls outside pulling weeds from the numerous beds. I've yanked out a hefty bunch of dead stuff and made a pile with it.

In the meantime, the strawberries are growing taller by the day, and the first delicate white blooms popped out this week. The grass stays green, as do the trees and flowering bushes, due to the pre-installed sprinkler system. Right now, we are enjoying this beauty of a yard with minimal effort. We are just sort of adopting the "nature knows what to do" philosophy this year. Maybe next year, we'll bust out the gardening gloves, and really make it our own.

Brian and I know we are very lucky to have purchased a place with all the stuff you'd "like to do if you had the money" already done for us. We thank the green thumbed couple that owned the house before us. But this year, we'll just brag a little, and smile a lot, and enjoy what we've got here in our own backyard.

Taking Chances

I'm kind of a coward.

Not really in the sense of bravery, but more in the sense of courage.

What does that mean, you may ask? Well, I heard a character in a movie say something about the difference between the two. They said "Bravery is doing something that may get you killed or injured, usually for the benefit of yourself or others. Courage is knowing that it may get you killed or injured, but doing it anyway."

I'm very brave in the sense that when I see an obstacle in front of me, I simply plow ahead. I do what needs to be done. I would do anything for my husband or my children, and if that means staring fear in the face to accomplish that goal, then I will just do it. If one of my children gets injured or is wronged by another child, or God forbid, an adult, I am right there. I step up, I step in, and I step over whatever may be blocking me from making things right again. I don't think, I just act.

It's thinking too much that gets me into trouble. I lack courage to accomplish the greater goals in my own life. I'm not short on dreams and ideas. Jeeze, I've got loads of those. But when I think about each one, my mind immediately throws up walls in front of me, telling me why reaching those goals is an impossibility. I picture all of the things that could slow me down, or all of the things that could defeat me. All of the reasons why I don't "need" to do this or that for myself. All of the reasons why everyone elses goals and dreams are far more important than my own.

If I do a short session of self-analysis , I can easily diagnose my own issues. My problem is in allowing myself to think ahead, to picture myself as a success at whatever it is I want to do. I don't "think positive". That is really a hard thing to do when it comes to my own life.

I am the first to encourage a friends or family to work hard and take chances. I am the first to offer words of encouragement. But my own inner voice tells me, "You need to be more practical. Don't waste time or money on ___________(fill in the blank with any of my own grab-bag of ideas). You know it will never work."

When it comes to courage, it's the "knowing" what will happen that stops me cold. Any fool can be brave if they don't stop to think about the consequences. Case in point, my long simmering idea to start my own second-hand business.

I've been in love with thrifting and antiquing since I was about 19. I have honed my bargaining skills and eye for discerning trash from treasure over many long years of practice. I've sweated it out in the merciless sun of California flea markets in July. I've sneezed and wiped grungy fingers on my jeans as I burrow through a heavy stack of junk to find the prize at the bottom of the pile. I've browsed the uppity antique shops in the seaside tourist towns of Maine. I've bargained down the grizzly old man with the mid-century furniture collection, and felt the adrenaline that only comes with the joy of getting "something" for close to "nothing".

Since moving to Spokane, my love of the hunt has bubbled over to a dangerous extent. Spokane is a thrifter's paradise. I'm already filling my kitchen with kitschy treasures. Do you even realize how many adorable sets of salt and pepper shakers there are in this world??

Even if I filled every room in my (relatively small) house, that itch would still need to be scratched. So...what would be a productive use of my time and talents? What would give me a sense of purpose during my days at home? What would allow me to do something I LOVE, and maybe, just maybe, make a few bucks from it? Well, selling my junk, of course! Opening my own Etsy or EBay shop. Starting my own little business.

But, back to the courage thing, despite how great it all sounds in my own afternoon daydreams, the practical side of it always ends up creeping in, and slamming the door shut on my best intentions. The "business" side of it is my least favorite part. The money, the taxes, the thought of being responsible not only to continue to find bargains, but to turn a profit from those finds? What if I failed? What if I gathered my inventory, opened an on-line shop, invested myself, and nobody bought my stuff?

The sheer number of pages that pop up on Etsy when you type in "vintage kitchen", for example, is staggering. It's 875 pages, if your curious. Thats a whole heck of a lot of competition.

Then again, what else am I doing? I'm not planning to work until September. I don't want the kids left alone all summer. I'd like something more to fill out my long days than just laundry and errands.

So, you may ask, what's holding her back? Why doesn't she just do it already?? Well, it's back to that whole courage thing again. I can talk this thing out a million different ways, but it always comes back to that. I'm a coward. Depressing thought, but oh-so-true. I have faith in everybody but myself.

I don't know...I'll think some more on it. I'm sure my Mom or Hubby will read this blog and give me some encouraging words. But until I believe in them myself, no amount of cheerleading will make me take that leap.

It's Swell!

Back from a productive morning walk by the Lake. It was very nice..with the chirping birdies and chattering chipmunks...and even a nice herd of deer crossing the path above me. And yet, despite all this nature and niceness, I am not 100% comfortable in my new surroundings. I still jumped a foot to my right when I heard some critter's rustling scamper in the grass to my left. I still gazed suspiciously out of the corner of my eye as I power-walked around a blind curve on the path...hoping (not) to spot the hungry bobcat that was scoping me out before he had the chance to size me up as a plump and tasty breakfast treat.

I'm sure I'm just overreacting, as usual. I passed at least 5 other humans on my walk, none of whom looked especially paranoid of an impending wildlife ambush. They were all jogging/walking/biking along, ipods nestled in their ears, not at all fearful of Medical Lake's version of "When Animals Attack".

I'll get there. Someday soon I'll be as confident as they are. And maybe as in shape...and not doing my high-altitude wheeze as I hike up that last incline.

Annny-way....so it's Monday again. What did you do this weekend?

I watched most of an interesting movie while I folded the laundry on Sunday morning. I missed the beginning, and had to jump in the shower at the very end...but I saw the middle...which we all know is the real meat of any film. It was Gidget Goes Hawaiian (1961), and I really enjoyed it's kitschy, summer goodness.

I love those 1950's to mid 1960's, campy, wholesome, brightly colored flicks. The choreographed, tap, jazz dance sequences. The opportunities to break out into spontaneous songs. The innocent banter between the sexes.

Here's a little snippet from Gidget and Moondoggie's (her boyfriend) misunderstanding/fight on the beach at Waikiki, after Moondoggie shows up to find his little chickie smooching another guy!

Gidget: Who didn't care if I went away?? Who thought a trip to Hawaii was a chance of a lifetime?

Moondoogie: Me, and I still do. And I intend to take full advantage of it. So go back to playing "kiss in the ocean" or whatever that was, I'll get a game of my own going.

Gidget: (some weird Hawaiian phrase..which she then translates:) Rots a Rock!

Haha! It's "just the living end!" Everybody is so well groomed, even in bathing suits! Their hair is so stiff, I totally understand the popularity of hairspray in those days. Out to dinner with their pals? The guys are dressed in impeccable suits, tight to the ankles, and the girls are in kitten heels and shiny dresses with poofy crinoline under-skirts.

And the surfing scenes! Classic cute actor/actress, standing on a rocking surfboard, with an ocean on the screen projected behind them, and somebody spritzing them with water from the front. Ha!

Elysse and Natalie joined me on the bed to watch Gidget's antics and they actually loved it. I know theres quite a few Gidget movies, so maybe we'll have to rent a few. I used to watch Sally Field on the Gidget tv show reruns when I was a kid. I always appreicated how cute she was. The guys hair was always a bit shellacked for my taste, but they sure were groovy back then!

No surfing here in Washington today. Honestly, when I lived in Hawaii, I never learned to surf. Nor did I take any hula lessons. Because once you live there, that stuff becomes a bit touristy. I mean, surfing is cool...but my klutzy tendencies didn't exactly encourage standing on a board while balancing on waves. I'll stick to surfing the net. Less dangerous for me.

You say it's your birthday? It's my birthday too!

Cursor blinking | | | | |....waiting for my birthday wisdom? Well, if I'm no wiser this year, I am older. No getting around that one.

Not so wise would be just spending about an hour (+) working on this fabulous birthday post, and then carelessly DELETING it. Doh! I still haven't quite gotten this blog thing figured out. But besides that idiotic keystroke, the 36th anniversary of the day of my birth seems to be going pretty well.

Tonight's fabulous plans (cue Price-is-Right showcase music) include an all expense paid trip to the Spaghetti Factory! I'll be sure to wear one of my fabulous elastic-waisted ensembles, so as to best enjoy the gut-busting portion of Chicken Marsala and buttered pasta! Following this 5-star cuisine, my children and husband will surely woo me with their barbershop-quartet version of the traditional Happy Birthday song! Then...off to our suburban hideaway for Jen's favorite Dump Cake and a modest bounty of thoughtfully wrapped gifts and cards (All thoughtfully thought-of by my endlessly-thoughtful husband, Brian. Children will smile and hug and take undeserved credit as I open each one.). Then, after savoring the last morsel of my super-delicious, chocolate cake, I will pass out on the couch, reading the new novel my husband is sure to give me. Fabulous!

Honestly, at 36, I don't expect all that much for my birthday anymore. The birthdays of our youth are so exciting and memorable, and I think thats the way it should be.

My first great birthday memory was the Great Celebration At Age 3. Believe it or not, I can remember it pretty clearly. Mom made me an cute clown-shaped cake. I had a bunch of preschool pals over to party with me, and my Aunt gave me my first tu-tu! Toddler-iffic!

Then, fast forward thru the gritty home-movies of Jen's life, and we come to Birthday #13. For my introduction into the teenage years, my parents very kindly rented a woodsy cabin at the Hotel Hershey for me, and put on my first boy/girl affair. A six foot sub, a vollyball net, a late 80's soundtrack, and an overnight (girls only) at the Hotel was more impressive than any 13 year old could have expected. Rad!

My 21st birthday should have been the most memorable of my young-adult life. And it was, but not for the crazy-shot-chugging-dancing-all-night-reasons you might expect for that momentous milestone. No, my 21st birthday was spent nursing an IV drip at Maine Medical Center, flat on my back, trying to prevent my 7 month pregnancy from ending too soon. Abigail, even in fetus form, was already asserting her independance, and was doing her best to send me into early labor. Luckily, the kind and sympathetic nurses took pity on me, and brought me a bland slice of hospital cafeteria cake and the pharmaceutical wonders that stopped my contractions cold. We managed to hold off my tenatious first-born just 17 more days before she came into the world. Mommy celebrated 2 months later with her first LEGAL drink....after I'd given up my half-hearted efforts at breast feeding. Oh snap!

And now, the second decade of 2000 is upon us. This year, I started getting those kinds of cards that don't mention your actual age...but instead, have a cake with 100 blazing candles on the front cover. I heard (surely sincere!) things like "You don't look a day over ___ (fill in appropriately complimentary number here)!" . My kid's concept of 36 is alarmingly close to their perception of 66. And for another 2 full months, my husband will remain a fresh and youthful 33, while I age steadily ahead of him. Cradle robber!

But, it's all good. I'm having a happy day. I'm loving my family and my house and my friends and my books. What more could I ask for??

Well, maybe the energy to hit the club and down a few jello shots, but I'll be satisfied with just gettin' through another year being healthy and happy. Sounds good to me.

Keyed up? Don't get me started..

Kind of keyed up this morning. Perhaps it's the 3 cups of coffee consumed within about 1 1/2 hours time.

Perhaps I'm giddy from lack of food. I have been drinking liquid breakfasts and lunches for about 6 days now.

Perhaps it's the annoyance I'm feeling at our new dental office, who informed me last week that my two oldest girls need $2500 worth of dental appliances in their crooked little mouths. No huge surprise there, but the real kicker for me was that "they don't take monthly payments" and I will need to apply for a Care Credit card in order to pay that way. I don't know about you, but I don't exactly have $2500 in my back pocket to fork over to anyone, but conversely, I hate credit cards. So much so that I've avoided getting one for myself for about 12 years now. BLAH!

Anyway..this is my life. Weak from hunger, high on caffeine, and grumbling about money.

So now I'm diving into this blogging thing, and I'm rather enjoying it. I am always annoyed that I seem to have ever so much to say, and nobody (except maybe my Mom) has an equal gush of relevant/irrelevant information to bombard me with in return.

It started that way in High School, with 3-5 page notes passed to my friends in the hallway. What was I talking about? I haven't a clue anymore...maybe my math homework? Maybe my outfit? Whatever it was, I had plenty to rant about. Then the Senior Year Books...upon which I would wax poetic and sentimental to each person who asked for my signature. My best pals surely received a heartfelt paragraph (or 3) filled with my remembrances of our oh-s0-special years together. And without a doubt, after pouring out my heart to my subject, I would snatch their return correspondence with greedy fingers. Alas! Only to be disappointed by their weak and thoughtless response .

"Your a great friend - don't ever change! Remember Mr. Morin's class and the cini-gum!! K.I.T.!! Take care!"

AARRRGGHH!! Even my boyfriend of 3 years wrote me less than a full paragraph! Where is the love? Where is the sentiment? Where is the effort??

So, here I am, 18 years later, still pouring out far too much information and wishing somebody would thrill me with a juicy response! Facebook....one or two sentences may be good for the masses, but not yours truly! MySpace...never even went on it and now it's like-so-5-years-ago...so I dis that one as well. Email? I'll write volumes...but everyone is "too busy-sorry!" to quench my thirst for a decent response. (Again, except Mom! Thanks!)

And so we have Jen's Blog. I hope this outlet is the remedy for my vomit of writing, which now can gush copiously onto the page each and every day.

It's therapeutic for me. To heal all those wounds received over the years from you thoughtless readers who took my words and enjoyed them, but never returned the gift. I honestly believe that words are so important. And now I have a wide open space to leave mine to roam. Finally.

It's more Farm-y than Grunge-y

So I guess you just begin at the beginning? Good place, I suppose.

I decided my first post would be about my new home town..since the choice to live here has been both practical and intuitive.

We were transferred to Fairchild Air Force Base here in Spokane this past February. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever picture myself living in Washington state. However, I never pictured myself living in Maine, Massachusetts, California, or Hawaii (all past residences of mine).

Washington state conjured pictures of grungy 1990's movies (dirty hair, plaid shirt, coffee cups,and chain smoking whilst searching for the meaning of life in your 20's, all set to a grunge soundtrack). Or maybe a dismally cloud covered, coniferous town, populated by glittering beings and musky teenage wolves (darn you Stephanie Meyer and your addictive teenage novels!).

But media influenced prejudices aside, I already had one of my gut "feelings" we'd fit in here just fine. We'd done well as Westerners for 7 years living in Cali, and, besides, my intuition was flashing me a green light. Spokane had a comforting number of qualities on the GREAT LIST: Stuff White People Like.

If only Washington and all it's great Stuff, was on the East Coast (where our families reside), our new assignment would have been close to perfect. Adventure awaited, so we packed up our stuff and our cat and our kids and started our journey from Hawaii to our new home in a land-locked state.

The first time we rolled into Medical Lake, I must admit, my judgemental side was not shy in voicing an opinion. "Hicksville! There's nothing going on in this town! Too many trailers! It's too far out in the middle of nowhere!!" (said my whiny inner voice, who's opinions I then repeated loudly to my husband. Poor guy was peering at the scenery from the drivers seat of our minivan and swerving to avoid prancing herds of deer and rolling tumbleweeds).

We were very unimpressed with the lack of cushy, suburban amenities. No Starbucks! No McDonalds! Not even a 7Eleven??? The tumbleweeds continued their aimless journey without us as we cruised haughtily back out of town.

Fast forward a few weeks, and a very jaded and frustrated home search behind us, and we decided to return to Medical Lake to take another look at a home I'd felt "a feeling" about. As we rolled back into town, I took a second look.

Pull into the driveway, open the front door, and the "feeling" was still there. You know...you walk in...and the "vibe" is good?

And from a practical standpoint, the house was in a great spot (on a corner lot, no backyard neighbors). The schools are good, the base is only 10 minutes away, and the house was comfortably within our price range. Best of all, there was the LAKES! Oh Lord, the lakes are great! Since I can't live in an ocean-side town anymore, I might as well live near some woodsy, farm-y, west-plains lakes!

My second trip into town was an entirely different experience. What first appeared to be a town with nothing going on suddenly became a town where I could finally appreciate some peace and quiet. The schools, the grocery store, even the pizza joint and espresso shack were all within walking distance. The view of the golden rolling hills and surrounding farms was unobstructed from our beautifully landscaped back yard. The harmony of birds and frogs was music to my ears.

In the first month of moving into our Medical Lake home, we saw more deer than we could count, and majestic hawks and eagles soaring above our heads. Horses, sheep, llamas and cows are already becoming familiar neighbors. The 10 minute drive from town to the major highway has become an opportunity to observe the changes in the landscape. Trees beginning to bud. Green grass covering wide pastures. And even the trailers have become beautiful. They are surrounded by neatly trimmed grass and a rainbow of tulips and geraniums.

I am thrilled with our new home. It is a change, for sure, but I believe it will be a positive one in the long run. I am so happy to be putting down roots after 11 years of living in Base housing. I am so happy to spend a Saturday weeding the yard, our yard, and taking a walk around our neighborhood as the sun sets behind the hills and just breathing in the fresh air of our new home town.