I have a plan for the morning, which probably means my phone is going to ring off the hook and Marina will destroy something very quickly. However, if all goes according to said plan, I am hoping to have Megan's Christmas quilt finished by the time she gets home from school. Then on Thursday, I can finish Marina's. I'll be over my self-imposed deadline of wanting all Christmas gifts purchased/finished by December 1, but not by much. After the sewing is done, I plan (see, there's that dangerous word again) on figuring out all the Christmas baking I want to do, and start early this year. Freezers are wonderful things....and I need to utilize mine better. I am always frantic Christmas Eve, trying to finish 90 different things in between the Royal Hours. I'd like to not feel that way this year.
My goals, therefore, are thus:
Finish all Christmas sewing by the end of this week (I have one other project besides the girls' quilts, but it's a small one)
Make a list of all baking to get done, and have it done by December 23
Mail all Christmas packages by December 14
Seems reasonable, right? We'll see what happens. :)
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Liturgy and Toddlers
What a combination. Through a series of random events, today was the first time I had been to Liturgy in over a month. I was really looking forward to it, apparently forgetting that I had to bring my children with me. Service was an hour and a half of fussing and crying, elbows to my pregnant belly, foiled and (unfortunately) successful escape attempts, and various searches for a plastic pig. Notice the absence of prayer. I suppose that will come another day. Like in ten years.
My sincere hope and prayer is that God honors the fact that I am there, and knows that is simply what I can do right now. I am raising my children in church, and am time to time rewarded by hearing them pray with everyone, sing Lord have mercy, or--in Megan's case last night--sing the Lord I Cry stichera without missing a word.
In other random news, there is a snow blower in my dining room. My little sister hit the Black Friday sales for us, and picked up an awesome model for 40% off at Sears around 3 a.m. Dn. John is currently on his way to town for gas, and is then going to play with his new toy in the driveway. Of course, as soon as he decided to do that, it started to snow. Ah, the irony. However, once he is done, I am hoping to have found childcare and am going to drag him to Harry Potter with me.
My sincere hope and prayer is that God honors the fact that I am there, and knows that is simply what I can do right now. I am raising my children in church, and am time to time rewarded by hearing them pray with everyone, sing Lord have mercy, or--in Megan's case last night--sing the Lord I Cry stichera without missing a word.
In other random news, there is a snow blower in my dining room. My little sister hit the Black Friday sales for us, and picked up an awesome model for 40% off at Sears around 3 a.m. Dn. John is currently on his way to town for gas, and is then going to play with his new toy in the driveway. Of course, as soon as he decided to do that, it started to snow. Ah, the irony. However, once he is done, I am hoping to have found childcare and am going to drag him to Harry Potter with me.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Thankful
This is what we discovered when we checked on the girls last night...Marina had climbed into the top bunk, and they were snuggled up together sleeping. I love them... :)
I am thankful....for Dn. John, Megan, Marina, Boom Shak-a-lakka, Mom, Dad, Kali, Steve, Nate, Nick, Josh, Zach, Efpraxia, Jess, David, Fr. Gregory, Pam, Fr. Philip, Kathryn, Sarah, Roman, Corey, Grace, Olivia, Heidi, Adelaina, Matthew, Anastasia, Luke, Hannah and little Unnamed, Breandan, Helen, Claire, Dan, and all of the rest of our family and friends that I don't have time to name. :) We love you all. Have a blessed day.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Rhubarb
Apparently the new baby has a special affinity for rhubarb. I made a rhubarb apple crisp yesterday morning, and every time I eat some, my little one starts bopping around my belly like the ball in a pinball machine. It's crazy. He/she was kicking so hard last night that the bowl I was balancing on my belly kept bouncing. It's a lot of fun. Of course, I'm working under the assumption right now that it's not *really* the rhubarb that the baby likes, but the four cups of sugar it took to make the rhubarb palatable, but who knows? Perhaps I am incubating a little gourmand. :)
The word of the day (or week) lately is "ridiculous." Megan somehow discovered that word, and uses it anywhere between six and a dozen times a day. She doesn't quite pronounce it correctly; it's more like "ridicu-ous" but it's quite cute, nonetheless. It catches me off guard every time she says it...I have a hard time believing that such a word is a part of her vocabulary.
Marina's potty training seems to be going very well. She's down to around one accident a day, and sometimes she goes a whole day without any! She poops in the potty fairly well, although her curiosity gets the better of her as far as that goes...I will leave the results to your imagination. Rest assured that it is gross.
Dn. John had a surprise day off yesterday. The weather has turned nasty--in the mid 20s-30s, and raining. The result is a nice layer of glare ice on all the roads, which has made them nearly undrivable. It took him an hour to go a single mile on the highway yesterday morning, so he turned around and came home. Unfortunately for me, I had no idea about the road conditions or the fact that he was coming home early, so when I looked up to see the shadow of a man in my bedroom door, it about gave me a heart attack. I did recover, and we had a nice lazy day with the kids, playing and watching movies. The roads are a little better today, so he was able to make it to work, but our driveway is hideous, so the girls and I are not venturing outdoors today.
I suppose that means that the house should get cleaned, since I am stuck here all day, but pregnancy exhaustion is starting to catch up with me, and I'm not able to get as much done as I should. Hopefully I can plow through this morning, and then rest in the afternoon; the only problem with that scenario is that it gives my children a few hours to destroy the house again before their Dad gets home. I suppose that this is going to be life for the next six months or so...a few months to finish the pregnancy, and then a few months to adjust to being the mother of three. :) No one should probably expect too much from me until June. Of 2012. :)
The word of the day (or week) lately is "ridiculous." Megan somehow discovered that word, and uses it anywhere between six and a dozen times a day. She doesn't quite pronounce it correctly; it's more like "ridicu-ous" but it's quite cute, nonetheless. It catches me off guard every time she says it...I have a hard time believing that such a word is a part of her vocabulary.
Marina's potty training seems to be going very well. She's down to around one accident a day, and sometimes she goes a whole day without any! She poops in the potty fairly well, although her curiosity gets the better of her as far as that goes...I will leave the results to your imagination. Rest assured that it is gross.
Dn. John had a surprise day off yesterday. The weather has turned nasty--in the mid 20s-30s, and raining. The result is a nice layer of glare ice on all the roads, which has made them nearly undrivable. It took him an hour to go a single mile on the highway yesterday morning, so he turned around and came home. Unfortunately for me, I had no idea about the road conditions or the fact that he was coming home early, so when I looked up to see the shadow of a man in my bedroom door, it about gave me a heart attack. I did recover, and we had a nice lazy day with the kids, playing and watching movies. The roads are a little better today, so he was able to make it to work, but our driveway is hideous, so the girls and I are not venturing outdoors today.
I suppose that means that the house should get cleaned, since I am stuck here all day, but pregnancy exhaustion is starting to catch up with me, and I'm not able to get as much done as I should. Hopefully I can plow through this morning, and then rest in the afternoon; the only problem with that scenario is that it gives my children a few hours to destroy the house again before their Dad gets home. I suppose that this is going to be life for the next six months or so...a few months to finish the pregnancy, and then a few months to adjust to being the mother of three. :) No one should probably expect too much from me until June. Of 2012. :)
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Thursday
This is a rough transcript of my day so far...
7:45--Get Megan out of bed. Get her dressed, breakfast, do hair, etc.
8:03--Phone rings.
8:10--Marina wakes up.
8:12--Marina has fit about peeing in the potty.
8:19--Hats, gloves, and coats for everyone, head out the door to take Megan to school.
8:35--Marina and I get home. Marina has another fit (I forget why).
8:45--Phone rings.
9:00--Start working on Megan's cake.
9:30--Still working on Megan's cake.
9:35--Hear ominous clanking noises. Marina is taking apart the Nativity scene again.
9:36--Marina has fit when I put away breakable Nativity scene pieces.
9:40--Back to working on Megan's cake.
9:45-10:15--Do random stuff (make bed, answer emails). Phone rings two or three more times.
10:20--Back to working on Megan's cake.
10:30--Marina has fit. She wins that round, and I put on Tinkerbell so that she will be quiet and stop making messes.
10:40--Friend stops by with her small daughter. Small daughter beings systematically taking apart my house.
10:45--Phone rings.
10:47--Phone rings again.
10:55--Friend's small daughter is playing happily, but still making a mess. I try to let it go. Blood pressure begins to rise.
11:00--Phone rings.
11:05--Back to working on cake. Have run out of frosting, and am making second batch.
11:15--Guy from the glass place comes by unannounced to measure for new windows.
11:22--Suddenly remember it is time to get Megan from school. Can't leave because glass guy is here. Crap.
11:30--Nephew shows up. Send him to get Megan. Brother-in-law asks question about project I was supposed to do for him, and had completely forgotten until that moment. Crap again.
11:40--Glass guy leaves. Megan is home. Marina has no pants on. (Why???) Friend's small daughter is carrying shoes from entryway to living room. Back to work on the cake.
11:45--Minor cake catastrophe--turrets for princess cake will not stay in place.
11:47--Turrets will still not stay in place. Blood pressure rises more.
11:52--Phone rings.
11:57--Think I have fixed turrets, only to have them fall apart again. Brain starts to melt.
12:00--Marina gets her leg stuck in a chair. Have to forcefully yank it out. Bruises form before my eyes. Turret falls off cake while Marina screams in pain.
12:05--Have taken a break from everything. Holding hurt daughter on couch, chatting with friend. Megan asks for lunch.
12:07--Hear crash in kitchen.
12:12--Finally get courage up to go look in kitchen. Turrets have fallen off cake again. Cake now has holes in it. Kids crying for lunch. Brain meltdown complete.
12:20--Have gotten kids lunch. On the phone with husband, sobbing about failed cake.
12:28--Get my act together. Stop crying, go downstairs. Friend's daughter has dismantled the remote control, lost the back piece, and is eating the batteries.
At some point in time after this, I managed to not have my head explode. We scrapped the princess castle cake, managed to patch the holes, and have made a beautiful little girl cake with a completely different theme.
1:51 (current time)-- Kitchen is a disaster. Living room looks like a tornado went off. Marina is still not wearing pants. Phone has rung four more times in the last hour. I have a jam show that I have to prep for. Birthday party in three hours (thankfully--THANKFULLY--not at my house). I need a nap.
7:45--Get Megan out of bed. Get her dressed, breakfast, do hair, etc.
8:03--Phone rings.
8:10--Marina wakes up.
8:12--Marina has fit about peeing in the potty.
8:19--Hats, gloves, and coats for everyone, head out the door to take Megan to school.
8:35--Marina and I get home. Marina has another fit (I forget why).
8:45--Phone rings.
9:00--Start working on Megan's cake.
9:30--Still working on Megan's cake.
9:35--Hear ominous clanking noises. Marina is taking apart the Nativity scene again.
9:36--Marina has fit when I put away breakable Nativity scene pieces.
9:40--Back to working on Megan's cake.
9:45-10:15--Do random stuff (make bed, answer emails). Phone rings two or three more times.
10:20--Back to working on Megan's cake.
10:30--Marina has fit. She wins that round, and I put on Tinkerbell so that she will be quiet and stop making messes.
10:40--Friend stops by with her small daughter. Small daughter beings systematically taking apart my house.
10:45--Phone rings.
10:47--Phone rings again.
10:55--Friend's small daughter is playing happily, but still making a mess. I try to let it go. Blood pressure begins to rise.
11:00--Phone rings.
11:05--Back to working on cake. Have run out of frosting, and am making second batch.
11:15--Guy from the glass place comes by unannounced to measure for new windows.
11:22--Suddenly remember it is time to get Megan from school. Can't leave because glass guy is here. Crap.
11:30--Nephew shows up. Send him to get Megan. Brother-in-law asks question about project I was supposed to do for him, and had completely forgotten until that moment. Crap again.
11:40--Glass guy leaves. Megan is home. Marina has no pants on. (Why???) Friend's small daughter is carrying shoes from entryway to living room. Back to work on the cake.
11:45--Minor cake catastrophe--turrets for princess cake will not stay in place.
11:47--Turrets will still not stay in place. Blood pressure rises more.
11:52--Phone rings.
11:57--Think I have fixed turrets, only to have them fall apart again. Brain starts to melt.
12:00--Marina gets her leg stuck in a chair. Have to forcefully yank it out. Bruises form before my eyes. Turret falls off cake while Marina screams in pain.
12:05--Have taken a break from everything. Holding hurt daughter on couch, chatting with friend. Megan asks for lunch.
12:07--Hear crash in kitchen.
12:12--Finally get courage up to go look in kitchen. Turrets have fallen off cake again. Cake now has holes in it. Kids crying for lunch. Brain meltdown complete.
12:20--Have gotten kids lunch. On the phone with husband, sobbing about failed cake.
12:28--Get my act together. Stop crying, go downstairs. Friend's daughter has dismantled the remote control, lost the back piece, and is eating the batteries.
At some point in time after this, I managed to not have my head explode. We scrapped the princess castle cake, managed to patch the holes, and have made a beautiful little girl cake with a completely different theme.
1:51 (current time)-- Kitchen is a disaster. Living room looks like a tornado went off. Marina is still not wearing pants. Phone has rung four more times in the last hour. I have a jam show that I have to prep for. Birthday party in three hours (thankfully--THANKFULLY--not at my house). I need a nap.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
6 Months!
I looked at the calendar, and I am 24 weeks today. Six months along, baby!! (No pun intended). That puts me two weeks away from my third trimester. Seems like yesterday that we found out we were expecting our new little break-dancer...and here we are nearing the final third of this pregnancy. Woot!! March will be here before we know it...
Potato Corn Chowder
Just in time for Advent, a very non-fasting potato soup recipe. :) You've got a couple days to try it...
Potato Corn Chowder
1/2 pound raw bacon, diced
4 large potatoes, diced
2 ribs of celery, diced
1 onion, diced
2 tsp. Thyme
1 bay leaf
1 tsp. oregano
2 tsp. garlic powder
6 cups chicken stock/broth
2 cups corn, thawed
2 cups heavy cream
1 cup milk
1/4 cup flour
Salt and pepper
In large soup pot, fry bacon. When it is about halfway done, add onion, celery, and thyme. Cook until onions are tender, then add potatoes. Give the potatoes a minute to cook with the bacon, then add chicken broth and other spices. Cook until potatoes are tender, about 15 minutes. Add cream and corn. Do not boil, but keep at a low simmer. Whisk the flour into the milk until smooth, then stir into chowder. Simmer until thickened. Salt and pepper to taste.
Potato Corn Chowder
1/2 pound raw bacon, diced
4 large potatoes, diced
2 ribs of celery, diced
1 onion, diced
2 tsp. Thyme
1 bay leaf
1 tsp. oregano
2 tsp. garlic powder
6 cups chicken stock/broth
2 cups corn, thawed
2 cups heavy cream
1 cup milk
1/4 cup flour
Salt and pepper
In large soup pot, fry bacon. When it is about halfway done, add onion, celery, and thyme. Cook until onions are tender, then add potatoes. Give the potatoes a minute to cook with the bacon, then add chicken broth and other spices. Cook until potatoes are tender, about 15 minutes. Add cream and corn. Do not boil, but keep at a low simmer. Whisk the flour into the milk until smooth, then stir into chowder. Simmer until thickened. Salt and pepper to taste.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Roasted Carrots
God bless the folks at Cooks Illustrated. They ran this recipe in their last magazine, and it is the best carrot recipe I have ever had. Ever if you burn the carrots (which I did) they're still delicious!
1 1/2 pounds carrots (cut each carrot in half crosswise, then in quarters lengthwise)
2 Tbsp melted butter
1 tsp thyme (my addition)
salt to taste
Toss carrots with melted butter and thyme. Place in a single layer on a cookie sheet and cover tightly with foil. Bake at 425 for 20 minutes. Uncover and stir carrots. Continue to bake, stirring at 10 minute intervals for another 20 minutes, or until carrots are brown. Sprinkle with salt to taste.
The slow roasting caramelizes all the natural sugars in carrots. I swear, it was almost like eating candy. I am making more today for lunch, and I am NOT SHARING! (Which is easy, since my kids won't eat carrots).
1 1/2 pounds carrots (cut each carrot in half crosswise, then in quarters lengthwise)
2 Tbsp melted butter
1 tsp thyme (my addition)
salt to taste
Toss carrots with melted butter and thyme. Place in a single layer on a cookie sheet and cover tightly with foil. Bake at 425 for 20 minutes. Uncover and stir carrots. Continue to bake, stirring at 10 minute intervals for another 20 minutes, or until carrots are brown. Sprinkle with salt to taste.
The slow roasting caramelizes all the natural sugars in carrots. I swear, it was almost like eating candy. I am making more today for lunch, and I am NOT SHARING! (Which is easy, since my kids won't eat carrots).
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Chicken Noodle Soup
'Tis the season for soup! Especially chicken soup that simmers on the stove and fills my house with deliciousness. So the next time you have a roast chicken for dinner, don't throw the leftovers away!
Chicken Noodle Soup
1 Chicken Carcass (I know, what a great ingredient, right?)
1 onion
4 carrots
3 celery stalks
2 tsp. thyme
1 bay leaf
8 cups water (ish)
Roughly chop the vegetables, and put in a pot with your chicken and spices. Boil until the meat has all come off the bone, and the vegetables are mushy. Drain and save the broth. Once meat and bones are cool, pick through and put all leftover meat pieces in the broth. Discard vegetables, bones, and bay leaf.
This is a great step to stop and freeze if you are saving broth for a rainy (or snowy) day.
When you are ready to make soup:
Reserved chicken broth and meat
1 onion
3 carrots
2 stalks celery
1 1/2 cup egg noodles
salt and pepper to taste
Chop your new vegetables into bite sized pieces. Reheat broth and chicken. When boiling, add vegetables and noodles. Cook until noodles are done and carrots are tender. Salt and pepper to taste.
Enjoy!
Chicken Noodle Soup
1 Chicken Carcass (I know, what a great ingredient, right?)
1 onion
4 carrots
3 celery stalks
2 tsp. thyme
1 bay leaf
8 cups water (ish)
Roughly chop the vegetables, and put in a pot with your chicken and spices. Boil until the meat has all come off the bone, and the vegetables are mushy. Drain and save the broth. Once meat and bones are cool, pick through and put all leftover meat pieces in the broth. Discard vegetables, bones, and bay leaf.
This is a great step to stop and freeze if you are saving broth for a rainy (or snowy) day.
When you are ready to make soup:
Reserved chicken broth and meat
1 onion
3 carrots
2 stalks celery
1 1/2 cup egg noodles
salt and pepper to taste
Chop your new vegetables into bite sized pieces. Reheat broth and chicken. When boiling, add vegetables and noodles. Cook until noodles are done and carrots are tender. Salt and pepper to taste.
Enjoy!
Monday, November 8, 2010
I'm stealing from Naomi again
My friend Naomi did a cool post this morning, and I am stealing her idea. Thanks Naomi!
Outside my window...
It is a winter wonderland! Because of daylight savings, it's actually light out before 9 am, so I can see the trees and the ground, which are beautifully frosted with snow.
I am thankful for...
Do I get to list everything?? Highlights include Marina's road to success with potty training, the Christmas shopping I was able to get done yesterday sans children (thanks Aunt Robin and Uncle Gale for babysitting!!), and the fact that my sister is done with her jury duty. I missed her. Additionally, Megan--my wonder girl--just took Marina to the bathroom and helped her pee! Love that girl.
I am praying...
My daily prayers include the ability to be the Mom that my kids--all three of them!!--need. We've been having a couple stressful weeks around here...stomach flu and potty training and the general upheaval of having two strong willed kids in the house. I am hopeful and prayerful to develop the patience to raise them in love...and also to stress less about the house being clean and do fun things with them.
From my kitchen...
I love love love this time of year. Something about the snow on the ground makes me want to just bake and cook all the live long day. For the last two weeks, I've had whole chickens cooking all day long on Friday in the crock pot, and Saturday morning consists of picking the meat off the bones and cooking remainders into chicken broth. I'd been freezing it, and yesterday made a big pot of chicken noodle soup. Yummy yummy! I also found a recipe for buttermilk crescents that I tried for the first time, and really liked them. Chili and pumpkin rolls have also been produced as of late.
I am reading...
"Hiding in Plain Sight." I bought myself a Kindle not too long ago, and yesterday discovered that they have a list of the top 100 free Kindle downloads. I went a little nuts and got a dozen new books (for FREE!!), so that should keep me busy for awhile.
I am listening too...
The Messiah. I break it out every year around this time and listen to it until Christmas. It drives Dn. John batty after a few weeks, since he's not a big operatic guy to begin with, but the repetition on top of it makes him crazy. So, I try to have it on when he's at work and find something else when he comes home.
On schedule this week...
Uh....not much, and that's the way uh huh uh huh I like it! Our house is pretty messy, so I'll do my usually Monday cleaning, and I've got to do do laundry since Marina has peed on so much stuff. The girls have their tumbling class today, and other than Megan's preschool, the days will be wide open. We are having some friends over for dinner on Tuesday, and another set on Thursday, which I am looking forward to. Saturday is the St. John's Bazaar, so I'll be selling jam and bread there all day. I realize that this seems like a lot, but it's really not, compared to some other weeks we've had in the past! Next week will be a little crazier, since I've got my six month baby checkup (SIX MONTHS!!), and it's Megan's fourth birthday.
Outside my window...
It is a winter wonderland! Because of daylight savings, it's actually light out before 9 am, so I can see the trees and the ground, which are beautifully frosted with snow.
I am thankful for...
Do I get to list everything?? Highlights include Marina's road to success with potty training, the Christmas shopping I was able to get done yesterday sans children (thanks Aunt Robin and Uncle Gale for babysitting!!), and the fact that my sister is done with her jury duty. I missed her. Additionally, Megan--my wonder girl--just took Marina to the bathroom and helped her pee! Love that girl.
I am praying...
My daily prayers include the ability to be the Mom that my kids--all three of them!!--need. We've been having a couple stressful weeks around here...stomach flu and potty training and the general upheaval of having two strong willed kids in the house. I am hopeful and prayerful to develop the patience to raise them in love...and also to stress less about the house being clean and do fun things with them.
From my kitchen...
I love love love this time of year. Something about the snow on the ground makes me want to just bake and cook all the live long day. For the last two weeks, I've had whole chickens cooking all day long on Friday in the crock pot, and Saturday morning consists of picking the meat off the bones and cooking remainders into chicken broth. I'd been freezing it, and yesterday made a big pot of chicken noodle soup. Yummy yummy! I also found a recipe for buttermilk crescents that I tried for the first time, and really liked them. Chili and pumpkin rolls have also been produced as of late.
I am reading...
"Hiding in Plain Sight." I bought myself a Kindle not too long ago, and yesterday discovered that they have a list of the top 100 free Kindle downloads. I went a little nuts and got a dozen new books (for FREE!!), so that should keep me busy for awhile.
I am listening too...
The Messiah. I break it out every year around this time and listen to it until Christmas. It drives Dn. John batty after a few weeks, since he's not a big operatic guy to begin with, but the repetition on top of it makes him crazy. So, I try to have it on when he's at work and find something else when he comes home.
On schedule this week...
Uh....not much, and that's the way uh huh uh huh I like it! Our house is pretty messy, so I'll do my usually Monday cleaning, and I've got to do do laundry since Marina has peed on so much stuff. The girls have their tumbling class today, and other than Megan's preschool, the days will be wide open. We are having some friends over for dinner on Tuesday, and another set on Thursday, which I am looking forward to. Saturday is the St. John's Bazaar, so I'll be selling jam and bread there all day. I realize that this seems like a lot, but it's really not, compared to some other weeks we've had in the past! Next week will be a little crazier, since I've got my six month baby checkup (SIX MONTHS!!), and it's Megan's fourth birthday.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Day 9,342
Well, that's what it feels like. We are doing pretty well potty training--only had three accidents yesterday! So between Marina's PT and Megan barfing all over the place, absolutely nothing else was accomplished yesterday. Megan is feeling better today, although she is extremely fussy. I think she got used to being waited on hand and foot and snuggled all day, and expects this to be a daily occurrence. The horror began when I informed her she could not have 7-Up for breakfast...ah well.
Dn. John brought our quilt home from the dry cleaner yesterday. Unfortunately (sob sob) they were unable to remove the sharpie. So, I now have a very clean quilt with scribbles all over it. I'm just going to save this moment for sometime in the distant future when Marina comes to me complaining about her kids. I won't even say a word, just pull the quilt out, point, and raise my eyebrows. In the meantime, she sharpied her arms again yesterday (DOES THIS CHILD NEVER LEARN???) so all markers have been packed away waaaaaaaaay up high, and here's hoping that when I actually need one, I will remember where I hid them.
Dn. John brought our quilt home from the dry cleaner yesterday. Unfortunately (sob sob) they were unable to remove the sharpie. So, I now have a very clean quilt with scribbles all over it. I'm just going to save this moment for sometime in the distant future when Marina comes to me complaining about her kids. I won't even say a word, just pull the quilt out, point, and raise my eyebrows. In the meantime, she sharpied her arms again yesterday (DOES THIS CHILD NEVER LEARN???) so all markers have been packed away waaaaaaaaay up high, and here's hoping that when I actually need one, I will remember where I hid them.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Day 4
Marina is doing great with potty training today. It's 10:30 am, and we have had no accidents, and two successes! She refused to eat breakfast, and is currently running around high as a kite on Halloween candy, since that's how we reward her, and it's all she's had to eat today.
Speaking of bodily eliminations, Megan has the stomach flu. Thank God, both kids are accident free this morning. Megan is finally old enough to aim and puke in a bowl. My pre-children self would never have imagined that milestone being a cause for celebration, but IT IS. Of course, now I get to look forward to Marina probably barfing tomorrow, and Dn. John and I catching it sometime in the next few days as well.
So, my faithful blog readers, please pray for my little family today. I hear choking downstairs, so either Marina's had one too many Smarties, or Megan is barfing again. Off I go...
Speaking of bodily eliminations, Megan has the stomach flu. Thank God, both kids are accident free this morning. Megan is finally old enough to aim and puke in a bowl. My pre-children self would never have imagined that milestone being a cause for celebration, but IT IS. Of course, now I get to look forward to Marina probably barfing tomorrow, and Dn. John and I catching it sometime in the next few days as well.
So, my faithful blog readers, please pray for my little family today. I hear choking downstairs, so either Marina's had one too many Smarties, or Megan is barfing again. Off I go...
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Day 3
Well, yesterday was a hair of a nightmare, for a whole host of reasons, but one of the big ones was potty training. I read somewhere that kids don't like to pee in their pants, because they don't like being wet. Perhaps this is true for SOME kids, but apparently not MY kid. Marina was dancing around the living room like a maniac, peed all over a living room couch cushion, her blanket, and the case to one of Daddy's Wii games (she was still dancing while she peed), and then went on her merry little way. She barely even paused.
Ugh.
So, we continue on the journey, basically because we've already been at this for two days and I refuse to give up any ground we may have gained thus far. Even though Dn. John has been at work during the day, I think he's gotten the worse end of the deal. Two nights ago, Marina peed all over his lap, and last night she had her first poop accident (and it was a DOOZY) while I was at the church taking Megan to Christian Ed. We'll see if today brings us any closer.
Yesterday was also rough because both girls decided to spend the morning having ridiculous fits about every ten minutes. By noon, I was about to start ripping my hair out. Thankfully they settled down after lunch, watched a movie, and were in generally better moods for the afternoon. But the morning was pretty harrowing. I was sure today would be better, until Megan got up and was conscious for less than two minutes (I am not joking) before having her first meltdown of the day. However, she is at preschool now, and will hopefully come home in a much better mood. Marina is actually still asleep (it's almost 9 am, so that's a shocker), and since Child #3 is tucked safely away in my soundproof belly, the house is quiet and still. Ah, sweet serenity...
Ugh.
So, we continue on the journey, basically because we've already been at this for two days and I refuse to give up any ground we may have gained thus far. Even though Dn. John has been at work during the day, I think he's gotten the worse end of the deal. Two nights ago, Marina peed all over his lap, and last night she had her first poop accident (and it was a DOOZY) while I was at the church taking Megan to Christian Ed. We'll see if today brings us any closer.
Yesterday was also rough because both girls decided to spend the morning having ridiculous fits about every ten minutes. By noon, I was about to start ripping my hair out. Thankfully they settled down after lunch, watched a movie, and were in generally better moods for the afternoon. But the morning was pretty harrowing. I was sure today would be better, until Megan got up and was conscious for less than two minutes (I am not joking) before having her first meltdown of the day. However, she is at preschool now, and will hopefully come home in a much better mood. Marina is actually still asleep (it's almost 9 am, so that's a shocker), and since Child #3 is tucked safely away in my soundproof belly, the house is quiet and still. Ah, sweet serenity...
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Day 2
Well, potty training was moderately successful with Marina yesterday. She had two successes, and a lot of misses, but I hope we're getting there. She did pee all over her Dad while sitting on his lap...but life goes on. :) Today is going to be so-so, since we have errands to run, so we'll go with underwear at home, and a diaper on the road. I think it's just going to take time...as much as I would love love love to get on here and brag that she is one of those kids who just picked it up and never had an accident again. Ah well. There's always hope for Boom-shak-a-lakka.
Speaking of babies, I have seven friends who have had babies in the last three weeks. Seven! How insane is that? One of my best friends is due in the next couple weeks too, which will make eight. Holy population boom Batman! Seeing all the pictures of the new little ones has made me really excited to have our own baby in the spring. Although I have to admit to being slightly relieved that ours isn't due for a few more months, because the thought of having an infant in the immediate future is a little bit daunting. I can wait until next year. :) I am concentrating on other things for the time being, and will get ready for the new one in the new year.
BTW, I am searching for some recipes...chili and banana bread mostly. My banana bread never turns out, and I'm tired of messing with it. I've never made a good chili before, so I'm starting from scratch with that one. So, if you have awesome recipes for either of those things, please shoot them my way.
Speaking of babies, I have seven friends who have had babies in the last three weeks. Seven! How insane is that? One of my best friends is due in the next couple weeks too, which will make eight. Holy population boom Batman! Seeing all the pictures of the new little ones has made me really excited to have our own baby in the spring. Although I have to admit to being slightly relieved that ours isn't due for a few more months, because the thought of having an infant in the immediate future is a little bit daunting. I can wait until next year. :) I am concentrating on other things for the time being, and will get ready for the new one in the new year.
BTW, I am searching for some recipes...chili and banana bread mostly. My banana bread never turns out, and I'm tired of messing with it. I've never made a good chili before, so I'm starting from scratch with that one. So, if you have awesome recipes for either of those things, please shoot them my way.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Potty training?
Hmm, do I dare try this again? Marina loves the potty, she just doesn't like the little potty that she can sit on quickly and without assistance. She loves wearing her pretty undies, she just doesn't like to stop playing and go pee. Ergo, if I would just let her pee all over the house except when she deigns to sit on the regular potty, potty training would be a breeze. *sigh*
We'll give this a shot. She's a little younger than Megan was when Meg potty trained, but she's acting ready, so I'm gonna try. There are four inches of fresh snow on the ground, and it's still coming down, so I have no immediate plans to leave the house today. It's as good a day as any!
Here we go, wish me luck!
We'll give this a shot. She's a little younger than Megan was when Meg potty trained, but she's acting ready, so I'm gonna try. There are four inches of fresh snow on the ground, and it's still coming down, so I have no immediate plans to leave the house today. It's as good a day as any!
Here we go, wish me luck!
Monday, November 1, 2010
Simplicity
I've been thinking a lot lately about simplicity. This was cranked up a notch over the weekend, because we spent the night at our priest's cabin in Wasilla. It's a little place, with big picture windows that overlooks a lake. It is heated by wood stove only, and is very tiny and cozy (once it's warmed up at least!). It reminded Dn. John and I a lot of the cabin where we spent a year, during our second year of marriage. Fr. Marc's cabin is about twice as big however, and also has an indoor bathroom, so that made it much nicer. :)
In any case, I was looking around, partially tempted to give it all up, hugely downsize our house, and live in a tiny place. Of course, I'm home now and enjoying all the comforts, so I'm less tempted to be hauling wood for a stove or get rid of 3/4 of our furniture. But still...the thought remains. Maybe when our kids are grown, we'll build a little 10x14 cabin somewhere and live in a tiny place again. (Probably not, but I can dream, right?)
Anyway, the weekend got me reminiscing for our year in our tiny cabin, so I dug up this article I wrote about it for a creative writing class a few years ago. Hope you enjoy.
I Have A Port-A-Potty, And I Know How To Use It
Every year, hordes of tourists flock to the Last Frontier. They spend millions of dollars on souvenirs, t-shirts, cruises, tours, sightseeing packages, and moose poop jewelry. They go to the BrewHouse, Alaska Wildberry Products, and walk the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail. They scan the parks and roadsides looking for the elusive moose, black bear, and caribou. In rare moments of brilliancy, they climb the fences at the zoo and are mauled by polar bears. In essence, these people are searching for one simple thing: the Alaskan experience.
What the Department of Tourism isn’t telling them is that the two pampered weeks they spend in Anchorage, in the middle of June, is as close to the Alaskan experience as being bitten by a giraffe.
To truly know and appreciate this great land, one must possess a pioneering attitude of courage, adventure, and an appreciation of the simple virtues in life: hard work, dedication, perseverance, and patience. Or, one can simply be dumb, broke, and a little crazy. I chose the latter of these two options.
To anyone who knows me but at all, the idea of me “roughing it” is generally enough to induce hysterical laughter. I hate to camp. In fact, I hate it so much that instead of tenting it on the banks of the Kasilof River while dip netting, I decided instead to spend the night in the hospital having my appendix removed. Even my internal, removable organs hate to camp. I once went on a three-day canoe trip through the Swanson Lake system near Soldotna. I will admit to having fun, but not when I woke up covered in frozen dew, spiders, and hearing a moose chewing grass less than five feet from my tent. I complained a lot that trip. I’m sometimes surprised that my husband, who was there, still married me after that fiasco. That being said, imagine the surprise (shock is more like it) of everybody I know when my husband and I casually announced that we were moving out of our three bedroom duplex into a 16x20 foot cabin in the woods.
Were we crazy? Probably, but for the most part, we were poor. Josh was only working part-time, and my full-time job in the accounting office of a local Ford dealership hardly fit the bill as a big moneymaker. Moving was the simplest way to cut costs. Since the cabin was owned by some of our closest friends, we knew we would be in good hands.
As if the size of the cabin wasn’t enough, the fact that it had no running water and was heated by a wood stove compounded matters a bit. My parents, who have lived in Alaska for the last 25 years, shrugged their shoulders and wished us luck in paying our bills. My South Carolina in-laws, however, thought we had lost our minds. My closest friends, some Alaskans, some not, figured Josh was twisting my arm. They were in even greater shock when I informed them that I was a willing participant in the insanity.
So in September of 2003, we gritted our teeth, packed our beautiful home, put 70% of our belongings into storage, and moved into the cabin. The first time I walked in, I cried.
Ten of our buddies had turned out to help us move, and they sat around in the front yard for a while, drinking beer and making fun of the Port-A-Potty that was to be my bathroom for the next year.
“That son-of-a-bitch is going to be cold this winter,” was Dan’s only comment.
Since it was Saturday morning and Monday was Labor Day, I had three days to unpack. Considering the few belongings we now had, one would think that this would be an easy task. However this, like my mental state of relative sanity, was not to be.
Jesse, our close friend and new landlord, had spend a day the previous week painting the plywood floor a beautiful shade of green, covering the rather dingy yellow it had been before. Unfortunately, he had used an exterior paint, thinking that it would be more durable to heavy traffic. It hadn’t had time to dry completely, and as a result, the cardboard boxes stuck to the floor with alarming strength. Green paint had also been drug up the stairs onto the brand new white carpet remnant a contractor friend had given us. I cried again, but this time, for a shorter amount of time.
Labor Day found Josh, his friend Josh, Jesse and Dan doing labor: on their hands and knees scraping cardboard and goopy paint off the floor with putty knives. I stayed upstairs, drowning my sorrows in a loud CD, two liters of Dr. Pepper, and a bag of mini Milky Ways. I also endeavored to stay extremely busy. In less than eight hours, despite tripping over the boys every time I turned around, I converted our hole-in-the-wall cabin into a cozy, though condensed, home of which I was extremely proud.
Our first month in the cabin passed without any substantial mental breakdowns. We were saving money and paying bills, which was our goal to begin with. Of course it was hard. Cooking turned out to be a real adventure. We had a miniature propane stove (when I say miniature, I mean we were hard pressed to fit a full-sized cookie sheet in the oven), and the propane tank was located behind the house. Since we both worked, we had no desire to keep the tank on all day and waste propane. So every time I wanted to cook, one of us would run behind the cabin to turn on the propane, and then bang on the outside wall. This was the signal for the person inside to light the pilot lights before the gas asphyxiated us. As ideal as this sounds, it didn’t always work in real life. The pilot lights were notoriously picky, and sometimes wouldn’t light for three to five minutes. By then, we were growing woozy from the gas, and afraid of the cloud of flame that would burst from the stove when it finally lit.
Hauling water from the local fire station was no picnic either. In fact, the whole kitchen water setup was a bit of a headache. Our sink looked like a normal sink, as the builders had attached a faucet. Of course, this faucet was purely for aesthetic purposes, but on more than one occasion (about once a week) we would forget that we didn’t have running water and turn the faucet on. Usually, we would remember after a few seconds that it didn’t work, especially when no water came out, but I always felt pretty dumb afterward. Our real water ran from a five-gallon blue camping container turned on its side. It drained into a large red bucket we kept under the sink. We had to remember to empty the bucket of its dirty water at least once a week, as it had a terrible tendency to smell like road kill.
We took a video of our little house down to my in-laws in South Carolina. They watched in disbelief (and a little bit of awe, I like to think), but what really put my father-in-law in stitches were the Christmas lights that Josh strung from our front door to the port-a-potty, so we could see where we were going in the winter. It seemed like simple practicality to us, but in retrospect, the Christmas lights almost add insult to injury to the slight absurdity of having a port-a-potty in my front yard to begin with. But despite all of this, the cabin was livable, workable, and on some occasions, downright fun
Then winter hit.
Regardless of anything anybody ever tells you, you haven’t really lived until you’ve used a Port-A-Potty in –20 degree cold, while wearing pajamas and a headlamp. Ah, Alaska. About halfway through the winter, my husband took pity on my chilled behind and cut a piece of blue insulated foam into the shape of a toilet seat to help keep my backside from freezing to the inside of the outhouse. I love that little piece of foam. It’s amazing the joy one can find in the simplest things.
Josh and I discovered a lot of things that winter. He learned to light fires with precision, despite an accident early on that left him with partial eyelashes, singed eyebrows, and burned the hair off his knuckles. Even after the eyelash incident, and looking funny for a couple weeks, Josh loved the woodstove. We developed a little “fire-lighting” tradition: he would do a Beavis and Butt-Head imitation (“Fire! Fire! Heh heh heh, Snort Snort. Fire! Fire!”), and I would inevitable start singing any song that had the word “fire” in it (Come On Baby, Light My Fire, Great Balls Of Fire…you get the idea).
I, however, learned to cook while wearing gloves, a coat, and a scarf wrapped around my head like a Russian Babushka. Every now and then the scarf would fall off, and then dinner would really taste interesting. We also learned that, in extreme cold, our freezer will thaw and everything in the fridge will freeze. We learned to wash our hair by heating four cups of water in the microwave for exactly two minutes, then pouring it over our heads into the sink, and that one can successfully entertain a dinner party of ten people with paper plates and plastic silverware in a space the size of a hospital elevator.
That winter had more snow than in recent years, and shoveling was more complicated than usual. Instead of the normal path from the car to the front door, we also required a path around the back of the house to the propane tank, one to the woodpile, and one to the outhouse. I managed to only have to shovel once that winter, and that was as a surprise for my husband (he thought I had had guests who’d done it for me). We also had to shovel off the woodpile on more than one occasion, and discovered with some dismay that our tarps, which we used to cover the wood, had holes in them, causing our wood to get wet. Let me tell you how much fun it is to light a fire with wet wood, when it’s only 19 degrees in your house and you’re shivering so hard that you can hardly strike matches. Then again, maybe I’ll just let you guess. Although, we never did learn how to keep the heat even. The temperature would go from frigid, to perfect, to sweltering, all in the space of two hours. More often than not, we would run around the house wearing summer clothes and opening all the windows, regardless of the external cold nearing 0 (or lower).
That fire turned out to be the bane of my existence. The extreme cold outside, combined with the uneven heat inside, a mild case of asthma and a stubborn woman who refuses to go to a doctor, caused a rather severe case of pneumonia to develop in both of my lungs. I finally went to the doctor with a body-spasming cough, a fever, and lung x-rays that caused my doctor to say, “Wow.” That’s never good. He sent me home with horse-pill antibiotics, and instructions to lie in bed for three days and do nothing. His eyes grew wider and wider as I described how this was, in fact, impossible, due to the fact that if I didn’t move to haul wood, feed the fire, etc., I would freeze to death. Thus, I ended up spending the next two days on my friend Melissa’s couch, watching cable and mooching off of her well-stocked cupboard. I couldn’t go home until eight in the evening, after Josh had been home for two hours and there was some semblance of warmth in the house.
Despite all the hardships, adventure flourished in places where I least expected it. One morning in early summer, we awoke to hearing bizarre scratching noises inside our stove. Josh assumed a squirrel had fallen down the stovepipe. We headed off to work, and I made a quick call to Animal Control, hoping to have the squirrel out of my stove by the time we got home. Animal Control casually informed me that most of the time, it’s not squirrels that fall down stovepipes, but ducks.
“Ducks?” I exclaimed in disbelief.
“Oh yeah,” the lady calmly replied. “I don’t know how they fit in there, but it happens all the time.”
I hung up the phone after learning of the $100 fee they would charge me to remove the duck/squirrel from my stove, figuring that with a fishing net, thick gloves, and somebody else doing the hard stuff, I’d be able to handle the problem on my own. I returned home, ready to face the worst, only to find an empty stove. Whatever was in there apparently clawed (or flew) its way up 15 straight feet and out the stovepipe cap. Since that time, I have learned a little more about the insulation in our cabin (in particular, around the stovepipe), so if a Park Ranger ever discovers a small animal with asbestos-induced cancer, chances are that animal was in my stove.
It so happened that, when we’d been living in the cabin for about 10 months, my husband got a new job, and my new job (which was partially commission based) started to boost our income a little as well. We made the choice to leave behind our “Love Shack” and put both feet back into civilization. I was happy to have running water again, but I will readily admit to missing the cabin at times. Not the cold, and most certainly not the port-a-potty (what a blessing it is to wake up and pee inside), but the simplicity of life. It’s amazing what you can live without when you put your mind to it (or when you’re desperate, either one). My husband was sad though. After helping us move out, one of his friends made a comment that Josh looked like he wanted to hug the woodstove goodbye. I, however, did not.
The ramifications of living in the cabin have reached into places that I had never expected. For example, I find myself having to buy Josh new pants, as his jeans are all stained with soot from the fire. We both have developed an annoying habit, involving turning the faucet on, or flushing the toilet, looking at each other, and laughing in amazement. We also eat a lot less Taco Bell, corn dogs, and Hot Pockets now that doing the dishes doesn’t require hauling a box of pots and pans to my sister’s house down the road. One of the best things of not living there anymore is not having to open the front door, look slowly from right to left, and around the corner of the house, to ensure that our not-so-friendly neighborhood black bear hasn’t taken up abode right in front of my car.
One would think that this year of roughing it and building character in the woods would have a lasting impact on my dislike of camping. One would be wrong. I camped for an entire year. I have fulfilled my quota, and I need never do it again. Unfortunately, my husband doesn’t agree with me, and as I have no more organs that may spontaneously rupture (I hope), my excuses fall on deaf ears. So look out world—I’ve had the Alaskan experience, and I survived it. There’s nothing I can’t do now.
In any case, I was looking around, partially tempted to give it all up, hugely downsize our house, and live in a tiny place. Of course, I'm home now and enjoying all the comforts, so I'm less tempted to be hauling wood for a stove or get rid of 3/4 of our furniture. But still...the thought remains. Maybe when our kids are grown, we'll build a little 10x14 cabin somewhere and live in a tiny place again. (Probably not, but I can dream, right?)
Anyway, the weekend got me reminiscing for our year in our tiny cabin, so I dug up this article I wrote about it for a creative writing class a few years ago. Hope you enjoy.
I Have A Port-A-Potty, And I Know How To Use It
Every year, hordes of tourists flock to the Last Frontier. They spend millions of dollars on souvenirs, t-shirts, cruises, tours, sightseeing packages, and moose poop jewelry. They go to the BrewHouse, Alaska Wildberry Products, and walk the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail. They scan the parks and roadsides looking for the elusive moose, black bear, and caribou. In rare moments of brilliancy, they climb the fences at the zoo and are mauled by polar bears. In essence, these people are searching for one simple thing: the Alaskan experience.
What the Department of Tourism isn’t telling them is that the two pampered weeks they spend in Anchorage, in the middle of June, is as close to the Alaskan experience as being bitten by a giraffe.
To truly know and appreciate this great land, one must possess a pioneering attitude of courage, adventure, and an appreciation of the simple virtues in life: hard work, dedication, perseverance, and patience. Or, one can simply be dumb, broke, and a little crazy. I chose the latter of these two options.
To anyone who knows me but at all, the idea of me “roughing it” is generally enough to induce hysterical laughter. I hate to camp. In fact, I hate it so much that instead of tenting it on the banks of the Kasilof River while dip netting, I decided instead to spend the night in the hospital having my appendix removed. Even my internal, removable organs hate to camp. I once went on a three-day canoe trip through the Swanson Lake system near Soldotna. I will admit to having fun, but not when I woke up covered in frozen dew, spiders, and hearing a moose chewing grass less than five feet from my tent. I complained a lot that trip. I’m sometimes surprised that my husband, who was there, still married me after that fiasco. That being said, imagine the surprise (shock is more like it) of everybody I know when my husband and I casually announced that we were moving out of our three bedroom duplex into a 16x20 foot cabin in the woods.
Were we crazy? Probably, but for the most part, we were poor. Josh was only working part-time, and my full-time job in the accounting office of a local Ford dealership hardly fit the bill as a big moneymaker. Moving was the simplest way to cut costs. Since the cabin was owned by some of our closest friends, we knew we would be in good hands.
As if the size of the cabin wasn’t enough, the fact that it had no running water and was heated by a wood stove compounded matters a bit. My parents, who have lived in Alaska for the last 25 years, shrugged their shoulders and wished us luck in paying our bills. My South Carolina in-laws, however, thought we had lost our minds. My closest friends, some Alaskans, some not, figured Josh was twisting my arm. They were in even greater shock when I informed them that I was a willing participant in the insanity.
So in September of 2003, we gritted our teeth, packed our beautiful home, put 70% of our belongings into storage, and moved into the cabin. The first time I walked in, I cried.
Ten of our buddies had turned out to help us move, and they sat around in the front yard for a while, drinking beer and making fun of the Port-A-Potty that was to be my bathroom for the next year.
“That son-of-a-bitch is going to be cold this winter,” was Dan’s only comment.
Since it was Saturday morning and Monday was Labor Day, I had three days to unpack. Considering the few belongings we now had, one would think that this would be an easy task. However this, like my mental state of relative sanity, was not to be.
Jesse, our close friend and new landlord, had spend a day the previous week painting the plywood floor a beautiful shade of green, covering the rather dingy yellow it had been before. Unfortunately, he had used an exterior paint, thinking that it would be more durable to heavy traffic. It hadn’t had time to dry completely, and as a result, the cardboard boxes stuck to the floor with alarming strength. Green paint had also been drug up the stairs onto the brand new white carpet remnant a contractor friend had given us. I cried again, but this time, for a shorter amount of time.
Labor Day found Josh, his friend Josh, Jesse and Dan doing labor: on their hands and knees scraping cardboard and goopy paint off the floor with putty knives. I stayed upstairs, drowning my sorrows in a loud CD, two liters of Dr. Pepper, and a bag of mini Milky Ways. I also endeavored to stay extremely busy. In less than eight hours, despite tripping over the boys every time I turned around, I converted our hole-in-the-wall cabin into a cozy, though condensed, home of which I was extremely proud.
Our first month in the cabin passed without any substantial mental breakdowns. We were saving money and paying bills, which was our goal to begin with. Of course it was hard. Cooking turned out to be a real adventure. We had a miniature propane stove (when I say miniature, I mean we were hard pressed to fit a full-sized cookie sheet in the oven), and the propane tank was located behind the house. Since we both worked, we had no desire to keep the tank on all day and waste propane. So every time I wanted to cook, one of us would run behind the cabin to turn on the propane, and then bang on the outside wall. This was the signal for the person inside to light the pilot lights before the gas asphyxiated us. As ideal as this sounds, it didn’t always work in real life. The pilot lights were notoriously picky, and sometimes wouldn’t light for three to five minutes. By then, we were growing woozy from the gas, and afraid of the cloud of flame that would burst from the stove when it finally lit.
Hauling water from the local fire station was no picnic either. In fact, the whole kitchen water setup was a bit of a headache. Our sink looked like a normal sink, as the builders had attached a faucet. Of course, this faucet was purely for aesthetic purposes, but on more than one occasion (about once a week) we would forget that we didn’t have running water and turn the faucet on. Usually, we would remember after a few seconds that it didn’t work, especially when no water came out, but I always felt pretty dumb afterward. Our real water ran from a five-gallon blue camping container turned on its side. It drained into a large red bucket we kept under the sink. We had to remember to empty the bucket of its dirty water at least once a week, as it had a terrible tendency to smell like road kill.
We took a video of our little house down to my in-laws in South Carolina. They watched in disbelief (and a little bit of awe, I like to think), but what really put my father-in-law in stitches were the Christmas lights that Josh strung from our front door to the port-a-potty, so we could see where we were going in the winter. It seemed like simple practicality to us, but in retrospect, the Christmas lights almost add insult to injury to the slight absurdity of having a port-a-potty in my front yard to begin with. But despite all of this, the cabin was livable, workable, and on some occasions, downright fun
Then winter hit.
Regardless of anything anybody ever tells you, you haven’t really lived until you’ve used a Port-A-Potty in –20 degree cold, while wearing pajamas and a headlamp. Ah, Alaska. About halfway through the winter, my husband took pity on my chilled behind and cut a piece of blue insulated foam into the shape of a toilet seat to help keep my backside from freezing to the inside of the outhouse. I love that little piece of foam. It’s amazing the joy one can find in the simplest things.
Josh and I discovered a lot of things that winter. He learned to light fires with precision, despite an accident early on that left him with partial eyelashes, singed eyebrows, and burned the hair off his knuckles. Even after the eyelash incident, and looking funny for a couple weeks, Josh loved the woodstove. We developed a little “fire-lighting” tradition: he would do a Beavis and Butt-Head imitation (“Fire! Fire! Heh heh heh, Snort Snort. Fire! Fire!”), and I would inevitable start singing any song that had the word “fire” in it (Come On Baby, Light My Fire, Great Balls Of Fire…you get the idea).
I, however, learned to cook while wearing gloves, a coat, and a scarf wrapped around my head like a Russian Babushka. Every now and then the scarf would fall off, and then dinner would really taste interesting. We also learned that, in extreme cold, our freezer will thaw and everything in the fridge will freeze. We learned to wash our hair by heating four cups of water in the microwave for exactly two minutes, then pouring it over our heads into the sink, and that one can successfully entertain a dinner party of ten people with paper plates and plastic silverware in a space the size of a hospital elevator.
That winter had more snow than in recent years, and shoveling was more complicated than usual. Instead of the normal path from the car to the front door, we also required a path around the back of the house to the propane tank, one to the woodpile, and one to the outhouse. I managed to only have to shovel once that winter, and that was as a surprise for my husband (he thought I had had guests who’d done it for me). We also had to shovel off the woodpile on more than one occasion, and discovered with some dismay that our tarps, which we used to cover the wood, had holes in them, causing our wood to get wet. Let me tell you how much fun it is to light a fire with wet wood, when it’s only 19 degrees in your house and you’re shivering so hard that you can hardly strike matches. Then again, maybe I’ll just let you guess. Although, we never did learn how to keep the heat even. The temperature would go from frigid, to perfect, to sweltering, all in the space of two hours. More often than not, we would run around the house wearing summer clothes and opening all the windows, regardless of the external cold nearing 0 (or lower).
That fire turned out to be the bane of my existence. The extreme cold outside, combined with the uneven heat inside, a mild case of asthma and a stubborn woman who refuses to go to a doctor, caused a rather severe case of pneumonia to develop in both of my lungs. I finally went to the doctor with a body-spasming cough, a fever, and lung x-rays that caused my doctor to say, “Wow.” That’s never good. He sent me home with horse-pill antibiotics, and instructions to lie in bed for three days and do nothing. His eyes grew wider and wider as I described how this was, in fact, impossible, due to the fact that if I didn’t move to haul wood, feed the fire, etc., I would freeze to death. Thus, I ended up spending the next two days on my friend Melissa’s couch, watching cable and mooching off of her well-stocked cupboard. I couldn’t go home until eight in the evening, after Josh had been home for two hours and there was some semblance of warmth in the house.
Despite all the hardships, adventure flourished in places where I least expected it. One morning in early summer, we awoke to hearing bizarre scratching noises inside our stove. Josh assumed a squirrel had fallen down the stovepipe. We headed off to work, and I made a quick call to Animal Control, hoping to have the squirrel out of my stove by the time we got home. Animal Control casually informed me that most of the time, it’s not squirrels that fall down stovepipes, but ducks.
“Ducks?” I exclaimed in disbelief.
“Oh yeah,” the lady calmly replied. “I don’t know how they fit in there, but it happens all the time.”
I hung up the phone after learning of the $100 fee they would charge me to remove the duck/squirrel from my stove, figuring that with a fishing net, thick gloves, and somebody else doing the hard stuff, I’d be able to handle the problem on my own. I returned home, ready to face the worst, only to find an empty stove. Whatever was in there apparently clawed (or flew) its way up 15 straight feet and out the stovepipe cap. Since that time, I have learned a little more about the insulation in our cabin (in particular, around the stovepipe), so if a Park Ranger ever discovers a small animal with asbestos-induced cancer, chances are that animal was in my stove.
It so happened that, when we’d been living in the cabin for about 10 months, my husband got a new job, and my new job (which was partially commission based) started to boost our income a little as well. We made the choice to leave behind our “Love Shack” and put both feet back into civilization. I was happy to have running water again, but I will readily admit to missing the cabin at times. Not the cold, and most certainly not the port-a-potty (what a blessing it is to wake up and pee inside), but the simplicity of life. It’s amazing what you can live without when you put your mind to it (or when you’re desperate, either one). My husband was sad though. After helping us move out, one of his friends made a comment that Josh looked like he wanted to hug the woodstove goodbye. I, however, did not.
The ramifications of living in the cabin have reached into places that I had never expected. For example, I find myself having to buy Josh new pants, as his jeans are all stained with soot from the fire. We both have developed an annoying habit, involving turning the faucet on, or flushing the toilet, looking at each other, and laughing in amazement. We also eat a lot less Taco Bell, corn dogs, and Hot Pockets now that doing the dishes doesn’t require hauling a box of pots and pans to my sister’s house down the road. One of the best things of not living there anymore is not having to open the front door, look slowly from right to left, and around the corner of the house, to ensure that our not-so-friendly neighborhood black bear hasn’t taken up abode right in front of my car.
One would think that this year of roughing it and building character in the woods would have a lasting impact on my dislike of camping. One would be wrong. I camped for an entire year. I have fulfilled my quota, and I need never do it again. Unfortunately, my husband doesn’t agree with me, and as I have no more organs that may spontaneously rupture (I hope), my excuses fall on deaf ears. So look out world—I’ve had the Alaskan experience, and I survived it. There’s nothing I can’t do now.
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