July 3, 4 and 5

We went the distance this past weekend to Columbus, Ohio, to attend a "Regional" Garlock Family Reunion, something upon first hearing about, I was not a fan of. Why? Because I felt jipped, that's why. This summer's Garlock Family Reunion was going to be close enough for me to drive to! Since the Garlock family hails from Oregon, the majority of us still live out west. But this year's was to be in Ohio. So when I got word it had been cancelled, I threw a hissy via text message. "What the heck!" and "This is SO LAME!" are some examples of texts I grumpily fired off to my Dad, which ended with a snarly "RETARDED!" A couple weeks later, I got an email about "regional" family reunions. The East Coast Garlocks would gather for the Fourth of July. I couldn't see myself driving solo 6+ hours with 2 wild things and a nursing baby for just a day or two, so I wasn't going to go, even furthering the bitterness. But Go found out last minute he had off the 4th so Friday evening after work, we hopped in the car, drove and drove and drove, rolled into Columbus at midnight, played all day and night, woke up the next morning, played a little and got back in the car and drove and drove and drove back home. I'm SO glad we did it. Totally worth all the driving; we had so much fun. I love being with family. After living away from family for so long, I crave the comfort that comes along with genetic similarities and unspoken concepts that are just understood. It's just...comfortable.

This is my Grandma holding Olive, who looks disgruntled but really wasn't. It was just bright outside. Apparently, Olive looks exactly like my Dad as a baby. She and my aunt kept calling her "Little Tom." Ever since then, all I can see is my Dad when I look at her. Eek!
Olive loved her right up and fell fast asleep in her arms. Oh, how I love this funny, funny woman.

Amber, I totally stole this one from you. This is the REAL "Little Tom." Mike, I kept from saying anything the entire weekend but you totally reminded me of my Dad whole time. It was freaky. So this is my cousin Mike with his cute new baby Will.
Little Tyler visiting with Rylee. And there's Amber and Chad who both were very smart people and married my cousins.
I don't know if you can see it, but this Go, Matt and Mike leaving to go cliff jumping. Mandy, you always said I was the duct tape that held the world together. I think you should reconsider your husband, as he knows all three of these guys completely independently. We joked that if the conversation ever lulled, we could just be like "So...how 'bout that Dan Heaston?" Shown here is also my cousin Marc's wife Kenna and my auntie Shawn, who hosted the party. She is also the owner of Crew Neck Quilts!
Cute little Mary, who came from Cincinnati. Her Daddy, my cousin Marc just finished up his surgical training and is now a practicing "shoulder guy." This depresses me because I remember when he started med school. And I was a child. My cousin Beth's husband Doug, handing out the poppers or whatever they're called. I'm really clueless on all things firework related. But the kids loved them and miraculously no one got seriously injured.
This is Henry, my cousin-coo Leigh's funny little guy. It was good to be with her; I've missed the Shneebs.

Consuming ribs with reckless abandon. Delicious, delicious ribs.

There was a lot of jumping going on.

The property next to my aunt and uncle's had PONIES!
And a very rude swan that terrified Ruby.

May found Matt, my cousin Leigh's husband to glob onto when Uncle Kurt wasn't around. An excellent second choice. That May May loves the men-folk. In the corner is my cousin Leigh who just bit the bullet and dyed her hair. She is braver than I. But it looked great.
Uncle Kurt, without May, and my cousin Katie, along with a spattering of my cousin's darling children.
My aunt had two huge blow-up slides that the boys set up in the back yard. This is my cousin Beth's daughter Kelsey.
And Rubes, who was in heaven. May wouldn't go down. She was probably too busy following some guys around.
We had a really, really good time. Thanks so much, Auntie Shawn and Uncle Kurt.

And now we're at the pool

It's a rough life.

We are picking blueberries right now

Very Beautiful

Ruby: Hey Mom, look! I did my hair myself.
Me: Good job!
Ruby: Does it look bad?
Me: Do you think it looks bad?
Ruby: No. I think it looks good.
Me: Then it must look good then.
Ruby: Yah. I thought so, too. I'm going to go take a picture of it right now!
Me: Yes, please go do that.

Week 16

Someday soon I hope to learn how to make Olive smile without dancing around like an idiot and therefore will produce a non-shakey smiley picture of my baby.

Southern Indian Curry

I am nearing the end of getting rid of the stacks magazines I have collected over the past 10 years, the piles that adorn our home otherwise known as Mount Real Simple, The National Geographic Range, The Communication Arts Alps and The New Yorker Peak. There's some hills in there too--Paste Hill, Bon Apetit Hill, Martha Stewart Kids Hill, Popular Science Hill and a burm of hair magazines I turn to when I feel the need to change my look. But really, HairStyle Burm is doing me a great disservice by even existing since those mags are years and years old. Yes, I'd like The Rachel, please? No, thank you. I am a Hoarder by nature but over the past 10 years, have slowly transferred over to the ways of Purgers. For my last hurdle to completely knight myself Lady Purgerific, I have been climbing my Everest: Mount Real Simple. I'm almost at its peak and have been going through them all one last time and ripping out stuff I want before tearfully parting ways with them at the recycling bin. Most of the stuff I rip out are recipes. I tried one last night and it was delicious and super quick and easy. When I make it again, I'll change some things. Here it is:

Southern Indian Chicken Curry

4 tablespoons corn oil (I used canola)
2 medium red onions, thinly sliced (I will use just one next time)
2 small jalapenos, halved lengthwise and seeded (You don't end up eating these, it's just to give it some spice when it's simmered together)
2 to 3 cloves garlic, finely chopped (I used 3 and always will. Your welcome, lady standing way too close to me at the Target check-out line)
1 2-inch piece fresh ginger, thinly sliced (I didn't slice it thin enough. Next time I will slice it as thin as possible so when you get a piece of it, you're not like "WHOA! HELLOOOO, GINGER!", you're more like "Oh. Hey ginger. Almost didn't see you there."
4 to 5 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (2 lemons)
1 3/4 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1 1/2-inch pieces
1/2 teaspoon each of cayenne pepper, ground coriander and cumin
1/4 teaspoon mustard seeds
1 teaspoon kosher salt
2 ripe yellow peaches, roughly chopped (I would use at least 3 peaches next time and chop them a little bit bigger than I did, like the same size or a little smaller than the chicken chunks)
1/2 cup canned unsweetened coconut milk
1/4 cup plain yogurt (optional) (I just put a spoonful on the girl's plate for them to dip their chicken into and it relieved some of the heat for them, so we used more than 1/4 cup, I'd say)
Indian flat bread or pitas (optional) (Since I am watching my carbs and trying to lose this blasted baby weight, I didn't have either BUT if I had my way, I would have made my very scrumptious recipe for naan, which you can find here.)

Heat 2 tablespoons of the oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Place the onions in skillet and cook for 5 minutes. Add the jalapenos, garlic, ginger, and 4 tablespoons f the lemon juice and cook for 5 minutes more. Transfer the mixture to a plate. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons of oil to skillet and raise heat to medium-high. Add the chicken and stir-fry until golden, about 8 minutes. Add the cayenne, coriander, cumin, mustard seeds, and salt and stir-fry for 2 minutes more. Add the peaches, onion mixture, and 1/2 cup of water and simmer for 8 minutes. Stir in coconut milk, reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer gently for 2 minutes. Taste and add the remaining lemon juice, if necessary. Serve with the yogurt, flat bread, or both if desired.

The Very Exotic Midwest

Today while waiting for our oil change to get done, which I don't know
about you, but wow, is it my most favoritest thing to do in the whole
wide world to sit on a sticky, rickety chair in the corner of a dingy
gas station with three writhing girls in my lap, Ruby asked what we
were doing for the Fourth of July.
"We're either hitting up some parties around here or we're going to
Ohio. It depends on Daddy and if he gets out of surgery early enough."
And as I'm saying this, I'm watching Ruby's eyes practically pop out
of her head. "We're going to Ha-why-oh!!!"
"No, not Ha-why-oh. Oooo-hi-o."
"But Ohio is still in Hawaii, right?"
"No. Unfortunately not."
Man. IF ONLY the Midwest was actually a tropical island...med school
would have been sooooo much better.

Lunchtime Authors Part 4

Week 15

She rolled over yesterday. Must be that tasty finger diet.

Bedtime Blog for Today

There have been times in my life when I've heard really big-deal news
and will never forget where I was, like today learning that Michael
Jackson had died. This was a huge deal for me. As a child I loved the
icon and his music and his moves. My favorite songs were always his I
remember "moon walking" for my grandparents when I was like 4, which
was basically just walking backwards and moving my shoulders up and
down, one at a time. My first show-and-tell in kindergarten was my red
tape player, with MJ's face airbrushed onto the speakers. Annie are
you okay? I always thought he was singing about me and when i was old
enough to know he wasn't, I still pretended he was. Michael Jackson
was a big part of my childhood. Today, after walking out of an evening
Zumba class completely spent, I overheard two guys talking and looking
up at a tv and caught that someone had died. It's weird in moments
like these--all of a sudden, you totally start talking to complete
strangers and there's this really raw, intimate exchange, you share
the exact same moment with someone you don't even know. So I ask the
guy who died, he tells me and then his friend chimes in and we sort of
stand around and talk about Michael Jackson for a couple of minutes,
in total shock, then we all kind of snap out of the same shocked
reverie then just sort of mumble "Take care" or something just as
trite and wander off. And you'll always remember that exchange you
had with two total strangers after walking out of Zumba class.

I still remember what the woman looked like who told me that the World
Trade Center had just been hit by an airplane that morning on the
subway. She had orange bifocals. At one point while walking the NYC
streets minutes after it happened, after emerging from underground, I
ducked inside a sandwich shop and witnessed the deli guy watch his
little TV in the corner and silently cry, right there in front of me.
"Can you believe what just happened?" we asked each other. It was so
odd, that exchange.

When Elizabeth Smart was found, I was at Go's med school weight
lifting competition. A guy who was off to the side on a computer
suddenly blurted out "They found her! They found Elizabeth Smart!" I
ran over to his computer and read the page. I didn't know him, but
there I was right over his shoulder, breathing down his neck, tears
streaming down my race, totally unabashed.

But now that I think of it, maybe it's weird that we don't have more
moments like these--that we are so closed off from each other that it
takes something so emotionally jarring for us to have a real momentary
connection with another person when we wouldn't otherwise. It's just
weird. ...Goodnight.

Sent from my iPhone

Recent Ponderings on Things of Angst

Lately I'm having a hard time with:

-My children growing older: I just put away Olive's newborn clothes and brought out the next size up. Sad. And May is so not my baby anymore, which is also sad. And I worry for Ruby as she ages, mainly her self esteem. As she's gotten older, she isn't as sure of herself as I think she deserves to be and because I don't know what else to blame it on, I blame myself but without a real reason. Raising girls is scary. Insights on raising well adjusted, happy, secure girls are welcomed and encouraged.

-Go's schedule: long hours, tired bones, missed dinners, lots of studying, not a lot of time with him. Sick to death of it. I miss him.

-Keeping my house clean: I can't seem to keep up with my kids' wake of utter destruction. I feel like all I do is bark at them to clean up their messes. And clean. And bark. And clean some more...without anything actually getting clean.

-Losing the baby weight: it's slooooow going. Not back into my jeans nor most of my skirts yet. Kind of bitter about that.

-Finding no time for hobbies: I'm actually ok with this one. My arts and sewing and silly do-dads are better for when I'm cooped up inside during winter anyway.

-Training for an upcoming 5K: yes. Training for a 5K. Pathetic. But my body doesn't know how to run and fights me every step of the way. And lately it's especially screaming "NO!" everytime I start so much as trot. I think I'm just really, really exhausted between extreme sleep deprivation, nursing Olive, and teaching spin/working out as hard as I have been, to get on that tread mill and try to hit the marks I've set for myself...it's just not happening.

-Trying to be grateful for having the many things I need (and more) and trying not to need the many things I want: is fighting materialism as much of a constant battle for everyone else as it is for me?

Three Way Random Memories I've Had as of Late, Conjured Up For No Good Reason At All

- During the summer of 2000, I acquired an aquarium that came with a humongous olive green frog who I named "Mother," but pronounced it like someone from Brooklyn: "Muthah." He was a beautiful animal with skin that looked exactly like the gorgeous gloves Michelle Obama wore on Inauguration Day. Tell me you saw them; they were fabulous. Now, after seeing last season's Project Runway, I would have named that frog "Leather," pronounced "Leathah" in honor of Blayne's imitation of Stella and her love of leathah. Because Muthah looked like Michelle Obama's leathah gloves. That looked like buttah.

-I went on a couple of blind dates in college, all of which were arranged by various aunts of mine. One auntie in particular, who shall remain nameless, decided to give my number to this guy she swore up and down was great. We talked on the phone a couple of times. He was funny and I could tell he was smart, so I agreed to go out with him despite the fact that he was way older than I was, which was something of a turn-off, for fear he was desperately seeking a mate, any mate. But he seemed pretty cool, so I was like "Why not? Free food," which is basically my life's mantra. The day before we were supposed to go out, he called and it came up that the next day, for the 8 hours prior to our date, I would be at work all day long which I wasn't looking forward to. "Oh, where do you work?" he asks. "The Game Center," I reply. (The bowling alley/arcade/pool table place at BYU.) I'd like to note that I did not say where I worked with even a milligram of enthusiasm. We talk a little while longer and at the end of our conversation I ask what we're doing the next evening. I want to know how to dress. See if I can finally wear those black leather chaps I've been saving for something special, of course. "It's a surprise." Ok. So the next day, I work at the Game Center all day long spraying lemon scented poison into sweaty bowling shoes, getting greasy bowling balls unstuck from the pin ring in the back while totally smashing my fingers in the process, refunding perturbed customers after the Misses Pac Man arcade eats their quarter even though it says "Out of Order" in a big, bold printed sign taped right on the freaking machine's screen, listening to the same sappy Air Supply whining from the jukebox, and inhaling that dreaded Game Center odor of dust, sweat, drug store cologne and post-mission angst. I hated that place. So I come home, shower off the second-hand stench of fake rotten lemons, dust, sweat, cologne and angst and get ready for my date. The guy arrives, he's ok looking--a little "Peter P" for my taste but I don't hold it against him too much. We get in the car and he's like "So do you want to know where we're going?" and I'm like "Sure," and I kid you not, HE TAKES ME BACK TO THE GAME CENTER FOR OUR DATE EVEN THOUGH HE KNEW I HAD JUST LEFT THE STINKING PLACE NOT EVEN AN HOUR BEFORE, AFTER SPENDING LIKE AN ETERNITY THERE . And I didn't even try to be cool about it. I totally protested. Profusely protested, in fact. Like totally begged to go somewhere, anywhere but there. But dude wanted to bowl. Needless to say, I did not bother answering the phone when he called a couple of days later. Thanks for that gem by the way, Auntie.

- In high school I had a strict midnight hour curfew. Because nothing good happens after midnight. At the time, I thought it was like, so totally lame, you guys that I had a curfew. But looking back, my parents were oh-so-wise and my girls are totally having having a midnight curfew. Anyway, at midnight, and not a minute past or there was hell to pay, I would come in the door, kick off my shoes, which were always something kick-offable: Birkenstocks, suede Simple clogs or flip flops and sit up on a red bar stool. During the summer months, all the windows would be open, along with the screen door and the scent of oranges and jasmine would waft inside from the orange groves and jasmine bushes across the street. I would ramble on about the evening's shenanigans while consuming an entire watermelon with my Dad while we would sit side by side slicing off chunks. My Mom, with a red and white plaid dish towel thrown over her shoulder and an apron tied tightly around her waist of course, would be putting away dishes. The crickets would be chirping, my dog would be snoring upstairs. My brothers would be upstairs in the bonus room watching The Jamie Foxx show and howling with laughter. My Mom would start the dishwasher, filling the house with a rhythmic hum and swish song. Those were really good days.

Thirty Present Simple Pleasures

1. This American Life podcasts
2. Fiber One bars
3. Zumba
4. Ceiling fans
5. The nightly Conan O'Brien/Jimmy Fallon line up
6. Paste magazine
7. Short stories
8. The anticipation of "Gentlemen Broncos"
9. Aveeno facial sunblock
10. Nifty Fifty lens
11. Wool felt
12. Method products
13. Paper chains
14. Edamame
15. Tshirt sheets
16. Izze drinks
17. Fast drying nail polish
18. Olive's coos
19. Ruby's "inventions"
20. May's outfits
21. Extra Gum
22. My peony bushes
23. Fresh herbs
24. The colors yellow and green
25. Venus razors
26. Baby lotion
27. Real Simple magazine
28. Food Network
29. Summer fruit
30. Forever stamps

Lunchtime Authors, Part 3

I lied.

Week 14?

We're at the pool. This is as good as it gets today most likely.

Lunchtime Authors, Part 2

Lunchtime Authors, Part 1

One of my plans for this summer was to read to the girls while we ate lunch. But then I had a better idea: we're going to write our own book. Every day for the next couple of weeks when we eat lunch at home, we're going to work on it. While the girls take their "rests" afterward, I'll spend some time on the illustrations. Not much time--they'll be pretty simple and quick , but I think it will be a fun summer project.

Here's what we have so far:

Bird Party

Would you think I was lying if I told you Ruby is thrilled to be six years old?

Me, like a month ago: Rubes, what kind of birthday party do you want?
Ruby: A butterfly party!
Me: Ugh. Allright.

For a couple of days, I let this simmer and actually came up with a cute way to construct a butterfly cake. As for activities, all I could come up with was wrapping the kids up in toilet paper, mummy style and let them break free from their "cocoons." Though that kind of sounded like fun, I wasn't coming up with much else. I'm all for letting my kids have creative reign (May's outfits are proof) but I thought I'd suggest something else and see how it went over: a bird party. I had thought of all kinds of fun things and to my delight, Ruby was into it.

I wish I took pictures of the invitations we made, but I didn't. Picture gardeny paper with a simple wool felt bird shape adhered to the front. Trust me, it was cute.

Yesterday we drew birds all over our walkway "just in case people don't know it's a bird party," said Ruby.

Olive supervised.

Ruby made sure to wear her favorite skirt, just in case anyone was still confused as to the party's theme:

Each girl got a feather clip to wear:

The activities:

We played a Baby Bird Game: Each girl partnered up and all were given a string wrapped around a gummy worm. They took turns while one girl held the string up while the other girl ate the gummy worm like a baby bird. (If you ever do this, I suggest you have the strings tied around the gummy worms before the party starts, otherwise you'll be frantically tying strings onto wiggly worms while 20 bouncing little girls majorly invade your personal space.) I wish I had gotten a picture of this but I was busy tying strings and having my personal space invaded.

We made bird feeders:

the supplies:

the finished product:They went on an egg hunt: also not pictured. But Go and his buddy Dan (who held Olive the entire party, bless that man) hid a bunch of candy-filled plastic eggs outside. Some of the bigger girls got out the door before the rest so some ended up with tons and others ended up with very little. I'm still feeling badly about this...

Then we ate cake:
(Can you tell what I was aiming for? A nest with eggs inside?) And yes, I know the Peeps came out back around Easter but luckily for us, they have a shelf life roughly of the same life span of a giant redwood tree. Or Barbara Walters.

Then we played.

After that, we went back inside for present opening and more playing. When it was time to go, everyone left with a bird house filled with chocolate eggs.

I think she had a good time.

Week 13

She'll be 3 months tomorrow.
Bizarre.

If You Have the Means, I Highly Recommend Picking Yourself Up a MayMay

She just woke me up. She was QUACKING in her sleep. I'm not even
joking. I hope you all have a MayMay- equivalent in your own life.