Overtired

I dated a guy in college who thought the expression "overtired" and the concept to which it related were, basically, bull shit. 

I wonder if he has children now.  And if he does, if he sings a different tune.

Says the mother of two exhausted children who are running around with dog toys in their mouths, barking to raise the sheriff, and trying to sniff one another's butt.  Ya, they are definitely OVERtired. 

Directions

Looking west.

Looking west.

Looking east.

Looking east.

Looking south.

Headed to Northstar (which is actually south of here!).

Of Gatos and Perros

I love morning conversations, snuggled in a warm nest of wool and down, with my girls.  This morning Gregorie, now 6.5, the Baby Bubble, also known simply as B, and I exchanged these thoughts while Poodle, aka Alex, 8, slept in a bit.

G:  Mama, when I grow up I'm going to have lots of cats and dogs, lots of kittens and puppies.  LOTS of cats!
M:  A lot of cats means a LOT of cat poop.
G:  That's okay.  They will go outside to... you know... Like Traveler does.
M:  Oh, okay.  Well, I hope you live on a farm or in the woods or something. 
G:  Ya, I will.  But well, the little ones, maybe they will have a litter box or something.
M:  So, who's going to clean all that poo out of the litter box?
G:  Well, me of course.  Because I'm going to live alone.  I mean, no husband or anything.
M:  How many cats are you really thinking you'll have?
G:  Like maybe 20.
M: Oh, so you'll be a crazy cat lady?
G:  No.  Because I'll have dogs too.  [pause]  Mama, are cats allowed in Thailand?
M: Yes.
G: And dogs?
M: Yes.
G: Are you sure?
M:  Yes, I'm sure.  I told you how when Aunt Kelly and I were in Thailand we stayed in a hut on the beach for a couple weeks and we had a dog who lived with us.  Remember?
G:  I remember.  [pause]  Do they have pet stores in Thailand?
M:  I think they probably do.
G: Do you think it's hard to learn Thailandish?
M:  It's just called Thai.  They speak Thai in Thailand. 
G: Do you think I could learn it?
M: I'm sure you could.
G: [thinking]  I think maybe I should go to Mexico first because I already know a little Spanish. 

Random bits and pieces of a happy life

Since I "founded" this blog this past summer, when we relocated to our little mountain home, nestled on the cusps of the Sierras and Cascades, I have had swirling ideas of what I would say in my inaugural post. These potential posts were mostly composed while driving the 30 miles to the girls' new school or back, never while I was in front of a screen or sheet of paper with the time to write them out. But one thing I have come to know about trying to BE a writer at the same time you ARE a full-time, stay-at-home mother: if you wait for the intersection of great inspiration and free time, you'll never write anything. So my visions of grandeur are dancing off with the sugar plum faeries of the holiday now past and I resolve (wow, I made it all the way to January 5 before uttering that word!) to just write it down, the little things. The little things pile up and make the big things anyway!

So following are some random pieces of our little life.

 Every night the beer comes in; every morning the beer goes out. The simple rhythm of this routine pleases me. The overnight temperatures are too cold for the little kegs to stay out but natural chilling during the day and making space in the laundry room/pantry work for us. [I guess I should insert here that Mr. Bubble is a brewer. He is working out recipes and hopes to someday open a nano-brewery. In the meantime, the tasting is fun!] Here is the beer out. You'll have to wait for nightfall to see the beer in.

I am engaged in an unending battle with pet hair, two dogs (one of whom is a "fluff") and a cat, in a small space. Hair hair hair. Especially on the microfiber couch and the wool armchair and ottoman. I have tried all sorts of lint brushes -- those velvety red ones, a thick rubber bristled black one, the ones with sticky rolls of tape (wasteful much????). I have tried my handheld Dyson. But my efforts have had the success of Operation Market Garden in WWII. But I have discovered that a rag -- old, not fuzzy terry cloth seems best (I'm using a baby wash cloth from years gone by) -- dampened with warm water works like a charm. How did I get to 46 before I realized this simple truth? Well, I never had the fluff before.... Ah, the hair free (or close to it) furniture!

More random images of moments worth collecting:

Sunset with icicles.

Full moon over fields.

Lamb chop ohm.

Walking it back up, to ride down again.

 

And not all moments are captured in images; there are words for collecting too.

 For example, the oft-uttered, "Poodle, let's play!"

or my favorite of late:

"I'm having trouble sleeping at night; Saturn is SO bright this week!"







I always try to hold onto the little moments, because nothing lasts: