Gas Guzzlers

We're having a cold front down here in Southern California, the windchill has got my fingers all bluish at the tips. In fact, our high was only 64-degrees today. Might as well be back in Michigan, all this frigidity.



So anyway, I sloppily puttered around the house today, dressed in my denim capris, woolly zippy-hoody, ski socks and my husband's overstuffed slippers. I did some laundry, vacuumed, you know that same ol' same ol' stuff that women have been longing to rid themselves of for centuries. Then, because I'm feeling a scooch under-the-weather and because every visitor at our home this afternoon said I looked a bit feverish, I climbed under our sturdy couch blanket (made with Michigan nights in mind) and curled up on our futon. And, in a completely out of character move, I turned on the TV where I dozily caught up on Project Runway and nursed Tovey endlessly.



In the kitchen, Lars and Mike happily chatted about the physics of beer as they set about on their semi-regular Sunday Beer Making Day. I half-listened to them trade microbiology hypotheses and give each other advice on best gadgets for fermentation. Occasionally, Mike popped in the family room to say a few words to me. One time, he angelically took sleepy and ornery Tova from me and bounced her until she succumbed to a nap, her snotty and drooly cheeks smooshed into his dark shirt.



Mike left after the beer was safely stored on top of my heating pad. Lars began making Tofu Pad Thai, smells of lime and rice noodles filling the house. Wild kids flapped around on the trampoline, duking it out in a game they made up and refer to GaGa. The few straggler kids, (who aren't ours) waited for a parent to come fetch them out out of our yard, mashed with our babies yelling and screaming in unison -- some crazy mob of nutbutts in a full on chorus of "mine" and "cheater" and "you hurrrrt me" and, of course, "I'm telling!".



Later was dinner. Excellent, as usual, courtesy of my husband -- what he lacks in laundry skills, he makes up for in dinner serving. As we were all sitting around the table, one of the kids (I can't remember who now) brought up the digestive system. And for those of you who have discussed the digestive system with your children well know, this topic cannot be complete without the special highlight of the whole process . . . poop! Round and round they go, happily throwing out the words poop and dookie with utter exhilaration. Poop! They were thrilled, tickled at the idea that they could use Potty Talk at the table, exploring the limits of what falls into the tidy circle of relevance.



My husband, with a glint in his eye, fervently engaged in the discussion. From melons to cucumbers, bread to ice cream, he and the kids determined together what came out as solid and what came out as liquid. And, as many of you who are familiar with my husband know, never one to miss an opportunity to put it into music format, my husband broke out in a robust version of They Might Be Giants' latest hit "Solid, Liquid, Gas". Having thoroughly discussed the first two states of matter already, Lars found it absolutely delightful to pass a large and loud fart as he sang out "gaaaaas." This, of course, sends my older three children into giggle fits sending Lars on repeat performance of the aforementioned song and "act." The rest of the evening seemed likely to deteriorate from there.



Sitting quietly this whole time in her corner of our kitchen table, 10-month old Tova happily munched on her tofu and rice noodles. With determined patience, she stoically endured the shenanigans of the evening, never making a peep. And, except to occasionally suggest that she wanted more raspberries by bringing the fingertips on her two hands together for the sign for "more", we really didn't have cause to disturb to her. However, seemed like Bitty Tovey had had just about enough of it once Daddy got to singing. Around the time of the third encore, Tova thrust her two baby hands into the air and waved them side-to-side, then said "ahhhh duh!"

To you non-sign language speakers this may not seem huge or momentous or amazing or any of that, but to those of you in the know, you would have already recognized the sheer enormity of what just transpired. Tova looked her daddy and her naughty siblings in the eyes and told them to "shush" the best way she could. Not only did she do the sign-language for "all done" but, she also spoke. All of us stopped and stared, mouths dropped open. Moments later, we burst into applause, and this time Tova gladly joined us.

Project Maggie: Part Two

Prject Maggie: Part Two, In Which Maggie is Schooled on How to Place Her Head and Ears Out the Window of a Moving Vehicle

I mean, c'mon! How amazing would that be for her big ol' Dumbo ears to be flapping out the side of our VW Bus? Nevermind our poor success rates from years past, today is the day! Get ready California. No, no -- even better -- get ready world . . .

First things first, Little Maggie, you are sitting in the wrong seat.

Move. Please?

She's all smiles as we head out for Operation Ear-aqi Freedom.

Maggie, you're facing the wrong way. The window is the other way.

Success! Can you believe it? After all these years of prodding and cajoling, she finally does it!

Not sure this really counts though. Fact of the matter is, the car wasn't moving. Secondly, Lars was standing on the other side of the window calling to her. Thirdly, her ears never made it out of the safety of the car. Well, it is a step in the right direction.

Project Maggie: Part One

Since the time we first received Maggie in our lives, we've set out two goals for her:
1) swim in a large body of water like a rugged, athletic macho dog
2) stick her head out the window of a moving vehicle.

Today's post is about the first of our two goals for Magdalena. However, much of what we've learned from our attempts at raising Maggie as a proper dog comes straight out of that old adage, "you can lead a Bassett Hound to water but you can't make 'em float."

Enter Dog Beach:

Running and sniffing and sniffing and running . . . far away from the water.

She made a friend.

And kept running.

Won at King of the Hill, but still no water.

Kicked sand on other people's belongings.

And then finally consented to a brief foray at the water's edge.

Wear she got her paws wet . . . and her ears.

Can't say that you can call this swimming, but near bout was.

Poor short legged doggy.

Even after taking the leash off her, she didn't run away from the water. She sure wasn't thrilled about it, either.

Half-smile.

"Can we wrap up this lesson?"

The other day, while picking Soren up after a whole day of school, I noticed something a little quirky about his wardrobe. At first I thought it was a theme day at school, but then I noticed none of the other children were dressed like him. Then I realized that my Main Man had committed a major wardrobe gaffe and I needed to get home pronto to document it on camera and share it with the public, loving and supportive mother that I am.

Step One: Engage him in idle conversation while snapping pictures of his sweet, winning smile.

Step Two: Zoom out just a scooch, act non-chalant as you take pictures of the evidence.
Still don't see it?

Step Three: Lovingly point out to your son that his shorts are on backwards, complete with plum jam stain from his PB&J at lunchtime.

Step Four: Take pictures of him on the floor, laughing his brains out.

Now that's just dang funny, ain't it?

Taco Tuesday

Very occasionally, she'll eat something besides a non-food item. Tova is very fond of Taco Tuesday. This picture is to prove to you that we feed her stuff besides sand, in this case black beans, refried bean and tomatoes.

I gotta say, bean dipeys are almost as exciting as sandy dipeys.

Eating Disorder Continued

No matter what we offer her at home, from Cheerios to booby snacks, nothing -- and, I mean nothing - - sates this baby's appetite like a couple of five handsful of sand.

Maybe it's a thirst for sea salt?

Iodine deficiency?

Probably, a craving for Eau de Dead Poisson.

Mystery, none-the-less.

Sticks, hair and dirt are a close second.

Over Two Weeks Ago

What is that face for?

Come on Sweetie Petie, show us what ya got!

Nope, that's not what I was referring to.

Stop bein' a goof.

Let's see 'em!

Petra Leigh!

Give me a break . . .

Ta da!

Petra's braces went on a couple of weeks ago. Within six days her front teeth were straight. Can we take them off now? Or, how about we just stop paying for them?