Deep Breaths

The 10-day in-law road trip is complete. I did not lose my cool (too much). I did not make (too many) snarky sotto voce comments. I did not punch anyone (though I did do a few [very hard] smacks of my own head in private). And I did feel like a terrible, terrible wretch when my mother-in-law came down with gout. But then I totally lost it (in private) when she decided that the doctors obviously didn't know what they were talking about, and it couldn't possibly be gout. It's just a mysterious sprain that comes and goes (depending on how rich the food is)--she said as she ordered a plate of Swedish meatballs buried in white gravy. Aaarrrggghhh (shouted in the confines of my own head).

Now we are home, sweet sweet home. I love traveling. I love seeing the world. But I do so love coming home. Even with all the unfinished projects, the mess of a garden, the pictures still to be hung, etc., etc. It is still our welcoming home that has little places for me to find peace and quiet. Not to mention The Dog, who gives me unconditional love with only minor grievances (such as finding out that not only did he dig in our friend's yard, but he also barked incessantly when she wasn't home ... grrrrr).

I have all these crazy tensions rumbling around in my gut, and each time I try to explain what it is that is bothering me, I come off sounding like a total whiny brat. Mr. J's parents are just different from my family. I did not grow up with them, so I don't fully understand their workings. They have hearts of gold. They only want the best for both of us. But they are hovering, needy, opinionated folks. [There, I said it.] And all I really want is to kick back, share a bottle (or three) of wine, and giggle over ridiculously silly things that are totally inane and completely goofy, as I do with my family. I mean, a girl can only be serious and refined for so long.

Yes, the woes of my life are many and tough. Poor, poor me. So, one more week of in-laws in my home. I can manage to keep my cool ... all I need are deep, deep breaths and the occasional super-stiff cocktail.

Cheers!

A Quick Recap

The Scene: Friday Night Dinner with Mr. J and the In-Laws (the I-Ls)
Discussion: When to go to Sun Valley, ID, to visit the I-Ls' family friend

[Note: dialogue has been modified to fit the writer's lazy mood]

Mr. J: We could go for an overnight trip a couple days after we get back from our NINE-DAY roadtrip.

All of Us: Sounds good.

Mr. J: Dad, what's your friend's address. I'll plot out our route? [Yes, the computer was on the dining room table while we ate. Of course.]

Mr. I-L: It's somewhere like Sun River. I guess that's a suburb of Sun Valley.

All of Us: Sounds logical.

Mr. J: [Click click click on the keyboard] Ummm, I'm not finding a Sun River, Idaho. Show me the address?

[Looks at address.]

Mr. J: Uh, Dad, this is in Oregon! Not Idaho.

Mr. I-L: [Visibly nonplussed. I guess one state is as good as another when you come from Australia.]

Turns out Sun River is sort of on the way to Portland, though not exactly on the direct route we had planned for Sunday. Mr. I-L calls his friend and yes, indeedy, they are home this weekend and would love to see us. However, because all our rooms are booked from Portland to Seattle to Leavenworth to McCall, we can't exactly shift everything out a day. So instead everything shifts forward a day. Which means tomorrow, when we had planned to mow the lawn, plant a few plants, clean out the chicken coop (We don't have our own chickens. We are chicken-sitting for friends.), clean out the beehives (all four of the them ... one "sort-of" ours and the rest the chicken people's bees), go to the Farmers' Market, go to a friends' dinner party tomorrow night, and pack up all our stuff, we get to wake up early, try to cram all the necessary chores in, and get on the road no later than 11 a.m. to make it in time for dinner. [If you knew Mrs. I-L, you would know that getting out the door on time for anything is a near miracle. Wish us luck.]

I did have an entire venting session written out here, but it's really not worth your read, and I feel better having gotten it all off my chest, even if it was just to delete it. Then again, perhaps the stiff gin drink I'm guzzling ... I mean sipping ... as I type has had something to do with easing my tension.

In any case, it will be quiet around here for a while. Enjoy your week!

How on Earth Can It Be Friday Already?

I sent off the GMBOA yesterday, all full of goodies. So, Jayme, be ready! I hope you like it. I used some of the cute little heart brads from the Wonderful Wandering Nana to decorate the exterior. It's so happy and red and white and gold. What a fun diversion I found in filling it up! Thanks, Whimsy, for letting me participate!!

There's a little notepad in there, which I believe came from Whimsy (??), on which each recipient is to write a brilliant idea. I am the conceiver of many "brilliant" ideas (though when I tell Mr. J, he usually just looks at me with a "huh" expression, and then he laughs. I guess brilliance is in the eye of the beholder or some such thing). And yet when faced with that innocuous little pad, my mind was a total blank. For the entire 3+ weeks that the package sat here beside my desk, I would stare at it and try to come up with a brilliant idea. Well, yesterday was D-Day, and I had to ship off the GMBOA. So I wrote something not very brilliant at all and just sent it all off.

Of course, today, as I sat down to my computer, I remembered one of my brilliant idea. So without anymore further ado, here it is:

Some kind of waterproof recording device--whether it be a waterproof pad and paper, or a waterproof voice recorder, or even better, a waterproof laptop--to be kept in the shower.

Really, it is brilliant. Or at least for me it is.

When I'm standing in the shower, wasting the precious water that they charge us pennies to use, I come up with so many blog post ideas. I compose them in my head. I laugh. I cry. They are witty and clever and entertaining and smart and just perfect. As I rinse out the conditioner from my hair, I recite it all in my head, convinced that I could never forget my perfect prose.

And then I come here to my Mac.

And my mind goes blank.

I sometimes recall the topic . . . sometimes. But for the life of me I can't recall where I was going with the idea, what I wanted to say, what my final point was. It's all just gone.

So that's my belated brilliant idea. Ta-dah!

Stuff

The other day I got an email letting me know the latest NaBloPoMo theme. It's all about the Now. Unfortunately, I am so behind in this little blog o' mine that I should probably write about the What Has Been before catching up to the Now.

The last I wrote (before the whole GMBOA excitement, which I am FINALLY mailing off tomorrow), I left you all hanging--wondering and waiting to hear if we ever ended up having to slaughter a colt during our snowbound river trip to the Lochsa.

Well, the short answer is NO!

The longer answer is that we never made it to the Lochsa. Cooler, calmer heads prevailed, and we almost all agreed that rather than camp out in 26 inches of snow, while freezing our tooshies off in a raging river, we'd much rather chill in our friend's family "cabin" just south of beautiful McCall. To call this place a cabin, however, would be like calling Hearst Castle a modest ranch house. It could easily sleep 15, comfortably. The huge gourmet kitchen and living/dining room overlooked the Payette River Valley. The hot tub was the just-right temperature. The food was fantastic. The company was spot-on perfect. All in all, it was a wonderfully relaxing weekend. And we even got in two trips down the river (the Salmon and then the Payette on the way home), plus our first and last ski day of the season on Brundage Mountain's (its closing day, for which it received a foot or more of fresh powder). Hea-Ven! And just the relaxation we needed before our next big project ...

Sprinkler Installation! If you've never installed your own sprinkler, I will spare you the details. If you have, then you know that I've already written more than is necessary. All I know is that it is done (except for some last filling in the soil bits) and that it has rained nearly every other day since we installed it. Just like washing your car, I guess.

After two weeks of the fun that is sprinklers, we loaded up the coolers and camping gear again for our third river trip of the season. This time down Hells Canyon. And, oh my, was it gorgeous. Apparently it's usually dry and barren, though still stunning. But thanks to the wet spring, the canyon walls were bathed in green, the birds were chucking, the fish were jumping, and the weather even cooperated a bit. But lest you think I'm some super-tough outdoorsy type, let me assure you: We were far from roughing it. The main camp tent was a base-camp style expedition tent that could easily sleep 15. And on the second night, the trip leader, the ever ingenious Mr. B, set up a river hot tub that was maintained at a heavenly 98 degrees all night.

We then spent Memorial Day weekend completely and utterly chilled out at Burgdorf Hot Springs (I am noticing a theme with my weekends away). This extremely rustic site north of McCall has a large hot springs pool surrounded by cabins dating back to the early part of the century. Another weekend filled with wonderful friends, divine menus, and re-lax-a-tion. Once again, the perfect thing I needed to prep me for today ...

In-Law Arrival Day. I love them dearly, but three weeks is a loooong time to spend with anyone, let alone slightly pesky, though lovable, in-laws

So my goal for right now and the coming three weeks is to stay positive, laugh off the annoying little things that drive me bonkers (after all, it's my problem, not theirs), and, if all else fails, resort to copious amounts of wine and margaritas. That's healthy, right?

And the Phlegm Goes On . . .

I have been in absentia . . . again. I have a whole photo montage detailing why I've been out of touch, but right now, just typing this post is taking all my energy.

My blog friend over at The Creamery is doing a thing this week and next (?) and maybe for even longer in which she is posting about finding joy every day. As always, I am loving her posts. And right now, it is definitely a good challenge for me.

Here's my little bit of joy for the week:

For a year, we lived in Flower Mound, Texas, north of Dallas, not too far from DFW, smack dab in between two huge reservoir-y type lakes. To say that we hated it there would be a huge understatement. Mr. J and I were both miserable. The Dog, on the other hand, loved it. Never had he experienced the joys of lukewarm lakes and creeks and bugs, bugs, bugs galore to hunt all night in the backyard. But as much as we love The Dog, we were not willing to sacrifice our souls to stay in that town. (No disrespect to any Texans out there. It just was not our scene.)

Anyway, while living in Dallas, I had one and a half gals and one and a half guys that I would consider friends. For an entire year. I can survive on my own just fine and am able to keep myself entertained for weeks on end without seeing a soul (see: learning how to knit), but a girl needs more than a total of three friends to keep her sane. Sad, sad times. But there was a silver lining: With all that alone time, I don't think I got sick even once that entire year. No sore throats, no horrid stomach bugs, no weeklong flu that saps the very life out of you. Other than my weird, annoying skin rashes, I was the picture of health.

Here in Boise, on the other hand, we have more friends than we know what to do with. It's already gotten to the point that when we invite people over, we have to wheedle down the guest list. Otherwise we'd end up with close to 50 people for a small barbecue. And we only just moved here in August. It's actually incredible. And it is all very joyful. But that is not the joy I am finding today.

Today I can barely see through my two eyes, thanks to a raging case of conjunctivitis, which I haven't had since I was, oh, I don't know, 8? On top of that, it hurts to swallow and cough, and my ear is aching like nobody's business, all thanks to an upper respiratory infection. Joyous. So for the third time this year, I am going on antibiotics again! (Me, the woman who HATES drugs, especially antibiotics). Yes, it is all very sucky and lousy and so very annoying. And yet, it is all because we have friends. Friends who say, "Here, try this piece of brisket," as they feed it to Mr. J with their bare hands (which led to the horrid stomach plague of early spring). Or who offer a sip of their drink to see if I would like to order the same thing, which, I believe, has led to this wondrous trip down phlegm alley. So that is where I am finding the joy. I may be sick, but I am in a place I love with people I look forward to getting to know better and better. I can see myself living in this city for many, many years (like more than 10). And that is something this Air Force Brat had never even considered in any of my past homes. I am home and I belong here and that is so very joyful.

Now pass the antibiotics, please!!

And the GMBOA Goes to . . .

I loved reading the different answers and have even written out Bethsix's to keep near at hand as a little reminder. (I have a whole host of sayings on Post-it notes scattered around my desk. And thanks to Wandering Nana's GMBOA, I now have more Post-it notes to fill up, all with a cute little pen.)

I thought perhaps Mr. J would go with Erin's, what with him being a true Calvin fan. But I think, as usual, his stomach beat out his brain!

So, without further ado, the next GMBOA recipient is Jayme and her "Mmmmm, bacon" mantra.


Jayme, you clever girl. You knew exactly the answer that would go straight to Mr. J's heart and soul ... and salivary glands. His one true love (other than me . . . most days) is bacon. His favorite ad is the one that says "Bacon makes everything taste better, even bacon." He just recently tried bacon-infused vodka and thought it would be the perfect complement to a Bloody Mary, and I do believe he may be right. And all of this from a man raised in the Jewish religion. He's so devout, don't you think?

So, Jayme, please send me your address via email, and I will prepare the Golden Minion Box of Awesomeness for its next grand adventure. [And now the fun part ... finding all the little goodies to fill the box. Yay!]

GMBOA Contest

Eek!

I am rapidly approaching the 3-week deadline for getting this contest up and running. I must admit, I am very nervous. The Minion-lympics were an inspired weeklong series of fun contests and questions, and the "How DO you pronounce GMBOA?" contest was so much fun (and I'm not just saying that cuz I won, which I am still in shock about ... OK, I'll let it go, already). So what do I do?

Well, as I alluded to a couple days/weeks ago, Mr. J came up with a pretty clever idea. And I think I have it sorted in my head how it will work. So here goes:

Provide a headline or cartoon strip or fortune cookie saying or line from a book, poem, song or anything else already written by somebody else that captures who you think you are. Answers can be serious, funny, self-deprecating, self-aggrandizing. Whatever you like. You may also offer explanation(s), as needed (see example below).

Enter by posting a comment in response to this blog post. You can enter as many times as you like, depending on how you feel at any given moment. (I know that my vision of who I think I am changes hourly, and sometimes even minute-ly, which is different from minutely.)

In one week (on May 13th around noonish Central Standard Time), I will read all the entries to Mr. J for him to judge, according to his own wishes. It's all very scientific and technical.

In order to compete, you must be a follower (Minion) of Miss Whimsy over at the Creamery.* Just head on over there, and click on the follow button. You won't be sorry! [Note: This link also takes you directly to the full rules and regulations for the Golden Minion Box of Awesomeness.]

* Whimsy, I do recall the two exceptions to this rule, and will take that into account when judging.

For a very bad example of an answer to this contest, when I was a teenager, my favorite pin button thingie read, "I used to be apathetic, but now I just don't care." Because, of course, as a fully suburban teenager, I thought I was all cool and tough and that cool, tough people just don't care. Plus, the wordie in me thought is was so incredibly witty and funny. I mean apathetic means "I just don't care." Get it? Get it? Oh Lordie, I was just so dang sophisticated as a teenager.

Mr. J, on the other hand, might have had this very cartoon in mind when he came up with the idea. He and I used to debate this question, with me getting very aggravated by the end of each debate. I've since decided that Hobbes has it exactly right! [Cartoon taken from The Essential Calvin and Hobbes, reprinted here without any permission, which probably means I'll get in super-duper trouble, which probably means I'll panic in a couple days and take it down from this blog post all together, because I'm a paranoid weirdo.]

So that is the contest, in all it's glory. I look forward to the answers and to sending on the GMBOA to the next Creamy Minion!