I'll Take it Black

This morning was perfection.  I awoke to find that snow had fallen during the night, blanketing my neighborhood in quiet whiteness and my husband, who was heading out early for a day of skiing,  had gone to the coffee shop and bought us both coffees, which he delivered to me IN BED, piping hot!  I felt truly spoiled.  After he kissed me goodbye, I grabbed my book off the night table and sat, uninterrupted, for a half-hour and read and sipped.  Heaven!

Flashback to yesterday morning to fully appreciate my current state of bliss:

This morning I made myself a pot of coffee.  This may not sound like a big deal to you, but it is definitely out of the ordinary for me.   My morning routine usually consists of climbing out of bed, letting the dog outside, tucking Nora's feet back under her blanket, getting dressed and pulling  my cap down low (I mean I DID just wake up) and walking Jack up to my favorite coffee shop for my cup of the day.  This may seem strange, and like a lot of effort, for just a cup of coffee.  And, yes, it would be simpler to just walk downstairs, to the kitchen, and make myself a pot.  It's definitely closer and most definitely warmer on a cold winter morning.  And I wouldn't even have to put on a hat!  But I really like it better my way.  And my coffee walk is usually just what I need to start my day.  But don't worry:  If it's SUPER COLD,  I have been known to drive Jack to the coffee shop.   


I will admit my behavior may seem a bit obsessive.  I try not to use the "A-Word"  because  that implies that I cannot survive without it.  Or at the very least that my body believes  it cannot survive without it.  But it can!  I can!  Just not first thing in the morning (and, occasionally, around mid-day.)  Honestly, I don't know if I'm addicted to the drink itself, or the act of traveling to my favorite watering hole to get it.  Probably a little bit of both.  

However, since I slept in late today, and since Dave just left for work (pedaling down the street in his fancy new riding jacket that some very cool person got him for Christmas), and since Anna is at her friend Victoria's house, and since NJ is still asleep,  I had to settle for home brew.  And since when does my early riser sleep in past seven?  Winter vacation has definitely altered her routines as well.  Staying up late, begets sleeping in late.  Hmmm...why did I never engage in this practice before? I have missed out on hours (and I mean HOURS) of sleep because of this kid!

Although I am not completely sleep deprived this morning, I am still trying to wake myself up.  But it's not working, because there was no walk, no perfect cup of coffee.  Today's coffee is wrong--it is black.  Because THIS half and half that I poured into my cup,  to cream it up and make it deliciously drinkable, instead dribbled out in thick, bubbly, white chunks creating something only worthy of the drain.  So down it went.  

THE CULPRIT!

RUINED!

And NO, I could not just use milk.  Not even whole milk.  It has to be cream and it has to be precisely enough to change the color from dark black to a beautiful golden caramel.  And it must be stirred, not just dumped in.  


Standing at the sink, still sleepy, watching my morning swirl down the drain, I decided to try again.  

Maybe the cream wasn't really bad.  Maybe it had just separated.  Maybe if I just shake the container a little it'll be okay.   I nose-tested it.   I didn't really smell anything either way, good or bad.  But my nose constantly fails me.  So I tried again, with just a little cream.  

So, black it is.   "Like real Norwegians drink it," says my Dad, the expert on all things Norwegican.  

The irony about this "addiction" of mine is that I am not, in any way, a foodie.  I don't pour through recipe books.  I don't go out of my way to find the perfect drink or meal.  I am not interested in pairing this with that.  I don't really even like to cook.  I simply eat.  And I am very easy to please.  Honestly, I will  politely and thankfully eat anything that is put before me. A quality that I am trying very hard to instill in my daughters.  Anna has it pretty much mastered.  She will at least TRY something new and different, and usually, eat most of it.  Nora Jane, on the other hand, inherited the gift of patience.  And she is becoming the master of "waiting it out."  On most nights, she is the Last Girl Sitting.  With her head resting on her left hand she will stare at her plate willing her food to disappear while we walk by her and murmur, yet again, "finish your dinner," or "just a few more bites."  But she'll come around.  And when she grows up, moves out, and starts cooking for herself, she, too, can make her own food choices.

She, too, may decide that Folgers, MJB, or any other brand that's been sitting on the grocery shelf, or in a grocery warehouse for months, simply will not do.  Maybe she, too, will support her local coffee shops, with the occasional stop at you know where.  (I mean if you need a cup of coffee and you are in unfamiliar territory, they have their own app for God's sake!)  

A few hours later: Coffee + my two girls = one happy mama!   

Drink on!

Poor Frost :(

Yesterday Dave took Anna skiing and poor Nora Jane had to stay behind with mama, the non-skier.  Don't feel too bad for her though, her turn is coming tomorrow.  So we had a mommy/daughter day.  We went for coffee (of course), saw "Tangled," which I fully expect to see as a musical in a few years. I LOVED this movie!  And we attempted to assemble a gingerbread house,  but the icing simply WOULD NOT hold the darn thing together!  So, despite our best efforts, we were left with a saggy, lopsided mess that The Gingerbread Man himself would surely run away from.  And finally, to top off her day of craftiness (and so I could start dinner) Nora created Frost the Snowman, not to be confused with "that other guy."

Working only with her imagination and a box of crayons, (she absolutely refused any other tools...no glitter, no markers, no colored pencils, a complete and utter minimalist...very unlike her) she turned an ordinary sheet of white freezer paper into a smiling snowy work of art.  (I'm so easily impressed by my childrens' creations)  Now Frost may not come across as much to the average onlooker, but he is something special to us.  His body matches those of his snow-made counterparts seen waving at passers-by on  any snow-covered yard in town.  Irregularly shaped, uneven, leaning just a bit to the right.  And his black "silk" hat is adorned with festive holly and berries.  His triangular orange nose is pointing just enough to the side to allow his admirers to amaze in it's lifelike carrotishness.   His pink and blue pom-pom buttons were glued down his middle section in a perfectly haphazard fashion (after hanging him on the wall so that the glue ran like a river down the  front of his belly).  And, finally, his TINY BOW-LEGGED FEET (much too small to support the weight of his body) were added, as an afterthought--just for artistic flair--because, "Mom, he's a snowman, of course he doesn't NEED feet!

Well Nora was SO proud of her creation that she named her piece and promptly hung him on the wall in the hallway.  That special place where she hangs everything BIG.

NJ with her winter masterpiece "Frost"
In the basement his new home 

And, like always, it immediately began to fall to the floor.  So we had to go through the usual process of "trying again."  Adding more tape, and then adding more tape.  Pounding the tape to the wall  with our fists for extra security. Holding the tape to the count of ten, then twenty.  And like always, it just kept falling.  I don't know why I don't just break down and buy some kind of fun tack glue or something.  I guess it's because I have tape!  Sticky Tape!  And Sticky tape is supposed to stick!  Right!  Finally, we gave up.  We moved on to dinner and left Frost lying on the floor until later, when I'd "take care of him properly"--as promised.  

But I was tired.  

So today arrives and I am sitting at the computer in the kitchen blogging away when I hear that all-too familiar sound.  The sound of spray.  The sound of something I love getting ruined.  And I know, even before I  turn my head and prepare to leap from my seat, that Frost, Poor Frost, has been victimized, suffering the gravest humiliation known to snow people worldwide.  His whiteness, that had been perfect until just seconds ago, is now tainted.  Disgraced, he's lying on the floor, a crumpled heap of paper and embarrassment.

If I wad him up and throw him into the recycle bin, Nora will surely notice his absence.  She always does.  Then I have to come up with a lie (a white lie, mind you) to help ease her  pain and  move on.  But it's too soon for that yet.  He's barely taken up residence.  Usually, I have to wait at least several weeks before trying to get rid of something BIG.  Oh those little things are easy.  They "get lost," or "fall into the recycling." But not Frost.  Not yet.  Not even Nora would believe that.  Oh, if only he'd stayed where we put him in the first place.  If only I had tried the "packing tape" as promised.  If only.  If only... But no.  I committed a major mother mistake:  I FORGOT.

So I grabbed the culprit,  another of the four-leggeds that reside at the Larson compound, and released him into the wild where he will stay as long as I can ignore the whiny meowing and scratching at the back door as he pleads to gain re-entry.  It's a song and dance we have been performing together since we moved into this house four years ago.  Before that he was just Cooper, the sweet one of two tabby-cats given to me by my sweet animal-loving husband almost fourteen years ago as an anniversary gift.  Now he is Cooper "The Whizard of Odd."  The cat who will pee on anything and for no apparent reason other than he is simply too lazy to walk his chubby little self to the door and stare at it politely, or howl at the doorknob incessantly as his brother Mickey does, until someone notices him and lets him out.  Now I know what you're thinking.  Why don't we have a litter box?  Believe me, been there done that.  And not just any old litter box.  We've tried them all!  Plain ones,  fancy ones.  Boxes with roofs and boxes with doors. And we've tried all manner of kitty litter and STILL he will do his business wherever the urge hits.  And, yes, we put up with him.  What else can we do?  He's one of us.  

You Know Who...
(Apparently, not in the mood for picture taking)

As for Frost?  Well, he has been washed, dried, sanitized heavily and is drying in the hallway preparing for his next move:  to the basement.  It's colder there.  He'll be happier.

Stay tuned...

"Ya Did Good Kid!"

I previously mentioned  that I have two daughters.  Anna is seventeen and BEAUTIFUL and Nora Jane is six and full of spunk.  Like many mothers in this modern age, I have begun posting their photos online.  But only for my friends and family to see.  My sisters live in Alaska, so the only way they get to see their neices with any regularity is via Face Book.  And I don't want any old Tom, Dick, or Harry gaining access to their cuteness.

And I enjoy sharing them in this way.  I feel pride when I post Nora's soccer successes, or Anna's B+ in Chemistry (believe me, this is a HUGE accomplishment:) As such, I should probably mention that Anna just got accepted into WWU (Western Washington University in Bellingham and only THE MOST beautiful campus in the Pacific Northwest.  Not to mention the home of Nash Hall: the place where her dad and I met.....  He lived on the 1st floor and I was two flights above... Ahh....sweet memories...But back to the present)  Anyway, we are super proud!

Recently, I posted Anna's Senior Pictures online.  And yes, they were beautiful.  Full of smiles, seriousness, and completely air-brushed and polished into blemish removing perfection.  And because our photographer (Ms. Molly Finnell, of MollyFinnellPhotography.com--who is fantastic  by the way) was very acccomodating, she let Nora Jane join Anna for some of the shots.  So I posted a few of them together as well.

When the comments came there were the typical, "cute photos,"  "BEAUTIFUL," and "I like this one the best!"  But then "ya did good kid!" started popping up.  I did good?  This sentiment was again mentioned following the release of the holiday card.  "You guys did good!"  Did we?  What, exactly, did we do?  Because, the way I see it,  other than having sex 17 and 6 years ago, the way my children look today was completely out of my hands, a genetic crap shoot.

Now, in all fairness,  I know my friends were simply trying to tell Dave and I that our children are beautiful, smart, funny, and we should be proud of them.   A no-brainer!  And, as a mother, all compliments that I am both proud and happy to receive.  But it did make me wonder.  Was there something I did (or we did) that inadvertently produced my two beauties.  Did I eat a special food, or not eat a certain food?  Did I work out "just enough?" Did I stimulate my mind with thought provoking readings?

Then I learned of an article claiming that beautiful couples are "more likely to produce daughters."  WHAT?  I'm not kidding.  Apparently, there was a study in the UK on this entire subject.*  Those crazy Brits!   Immediately, I was curious.  My mind was racing.  Who in our group of friends has ONLY girls?  Which of our friends are the "beautiful ones?"  Surely, Dave and I cannot be categorized as such....I mean he is good looking and I CAN clean up in a pinch....but on a daily basis, without bells and whistles, plucking and coloring.....no way!  I mean Nora just told me last night that I have whiskers....whiskers!  OMG!  She's right!  I have noticed these light hairs taking up residence on my upper lip.  But they're so fair I didn't think anyone else could see them.  In my defence, I did try having them removed several months ago...and the immediately following smoothness was glorious!  Until the next day when I woke up completely covered in a rash!  I looked like I had just hit puberty AGAIN! The entire area between my nose and mouth was covered in tiny red pimples....And they lasted for DAYS!  It was horrible!  I felt hideous!  So I vowed I wouldn't endure that humiliation again.  I was going to age with dignity and bask in the glow of my natural beauty dammit!  (except for my eyebrows...)  So much for being one of the "beautiful" ones.

Stay tuned.....

P.S.  Obviously, I cannot agree with the afore-mentioned study.  Because in my world, my friends are all beautiful and they have all produced beautiful children, both boys and girls.  Oh, and I'm calling the beauty parlor TODAY :)

* (found on the internet: Beautiful parents tend to have more daughters than their homelier counterparts, according to a report by evolutionary psychologist Dr. Satoshi Kanazawa of the London School of Economics. Kanazawa tackled the same question in a 2007 book that covers all sorts of facets of human behavior, "Why Beautiful People Have More Daughters," which he co-wrote with Alan S. Miller.)  Crazy huh???

The Big Day

So, today is THE day.  My first official post.  I don't even have my background completed, or pictures added, or my profile on line for that matter.  Yet I am forging ahead and joining the blogging community.  Why, you ask?  


I don't have a definite answer to that question.  Suffice it to say, I've always wanted to try it, and after being told last week that my boobies are fine,  "with no signs of malignancy," I decided to get off my duff and start doing some of the things I've been toying with forever.  


What will I be writing about?  Good question!  Possible topics include; motherhood, (I'm the mother of 2 BEAUTIFUL girls)  Anna is 17, applying for college and getting ready to get the hell out of the house, (of course, I mean that in a good way) and Nora Jane is 6.  She is smart, funny, and covered in freckles.  


There may be days when I describe my love of running (or other sports related activities).  My hubby is one cool bike rider, Anna can really kick butt in the pool as a water polo player and Nora Jane was THE fastest little soccer player on her team last fall....but who's bragging:)  For now, however, my attempts to conquer mountains, qualify for Boston, and other such dreams are on hold due to plantar fascitis (hereafter referred to as P.F.F.--as Pain in my F***** Foot!) 


Dogs may be mentioned from time to time as well.  I love them.  ALL of them....(well, except for the little, yippy, barky ones or the big terrifying ones who charge at me while running and nearly send me scrambling into the closest tree).  So you should probably meet Jack right now.  He is my best four legged friend.  He is a GORGEOUS yellow lab mix we resuced from the pound almost fourteen years ago.  He is perfect, except for one little thing.  He sheds a bit.. Okay, he sheds a LOT!  He sheds so much that I am thinking of somehow creating a lint wall.... or in-home vacuum system that will miraculously suck up all of the fur he leaves on my floors, on my furniture (even though he only is allowed on one tiny couch), on the counters, in my van, in the air we breathe, on my clothes (which are black....I know STUPID!  But I love Black!) Okay, so you get the idea.  But he's still perfect.  And he was the best trail runner ever! Until recently.  Now he spends a good deal of his time on the little blanket covered couch in the living room.  Lifting his head if he hears anyone entering or exiting the room, still hopeful that he will get a little run in that day.  


Cooking, and my inadequacy in that department, may come up from time to time.  Pictures may start to appear, once I get a better camera.  My last camera was dropped on its noggin while Nora was entertaining herself so her mother could do something productive, like face book or search for yet another recipe that, hopefully, my daughters will enjoy eating.  


The frequency of my posts is unknown at this point as well.  When school is in session, and everyone is out of my hair (I mean right where they need to be) I may be better disciplined about this new project of mine.  Until then it may be hit and miss.  Take now, for instance.  Nora Jane just walked down the stairs, still sleepy in her pink long johns (which she LOVES because she and daddy just bought them at Cabella's...one of her favorite stores) and hopped onto my lap.  


Stay tuned....