you capture: spring

Our Spring sprang a few weeks ago.  (Remember the lilac incident?  Yeah.  Me too.  Lesson SO LEARNED.)

Our flowered trees have dropped their blooms and our yard is full of dusty dandelions.

Clark calls them that, dusty dandelions.

He likes to make up words and phrases.  One of his favorites is "amn't"-- a contraction of "am" and "not".


"I amn't gonna come in and eat dinner right now, I'm gonna play outside with the dusty dandelions some more."






These photos were all taken exactly ONE WEEK post grass-mowing.

Dusty dandelions grow fast.

Skip on over to Beth's place for (probably much brighter flowery-er Springier than my own) Spring photos galore.


the one that's not about a cocktail umbrella

Two nights in a row, Alice has insisted on going to bed with a cocktail umbrella in her hand.

Oh, hold on, that's not what this post is about.

Two weeks ago, I had a visitor.  A blog friend visitor.  Her name is Dera. You should be reading her blog.

She is a hoot and she's smart and she has great taste and she lives many states away.  She is... a blog friend.  And she visited me, like at my house, in real life.

I've been waiting to blog about this because, oh I don't know, you know how when you were young and you thought a boy liked you but you couldn't admit to liking him until you knew what he said about you to his friends first, or something like that?  I think I felt like that.  Except about blogging.  And a blogger.  I was selfishly hoping she'd blog about meeting me first, so I wouldn't feel dumb.  But I am grown-up lady and not a little girl and I'm going to go ahead and put this out there:

I loved her.  I knew I would love her, at least I was SURE I would, as sure as you can be when you've never met someone in person.  Yet still, I had a tiny panic attack when her car pulled in the driveway.  What if things were just different in real life?  What if she thought I was lame?  I barely had time to worry these worries before she jumped out of the car and ran inside, full of normalness and excitement.  She felt like a friend, like a friend I already knew. She sat in my living room and we talked and she hugged me and her husband joked around and asked me about my Fornasetti plates and her babies played house with my babies and they were only here for a few hours, but I have to think that this little thing we do on the internet where we write silly stories and decorate a space and tell the world who we are can be more than words and pictures.  It can bring people together.  People who would never have the chance to be friends or know each other, otherwise.

I love that.  And I love Dera.  You should be reading her blog.


(i'm sorry if you are) poison ivy experts - help

The lilac bouquets are long gone, but the poison Ivy is lingering on.

And on.

And on.

It started as a few lines and splotches on my left arm but now encompasses the whole thing.  It spread to my other arm, my chest (this may be the worst area), my thigh, and is beginning to show up on my (already itchy) pregnant stomach.  I'm not sure why the rash is still spreading a week later, but it is. 

The funny thing is that I have never reacted to poison Ivy before.  This is new territory for me. I had been exposed many times, but never ever reacted. I was barely exposed this time (we found a dead vine I must have somehow brushed against) and am reacting like the world's most allergic person.  I'm chalking it up to "weird pregnancy stuff" because I can.

I am extremely uncomfortable, and... this is where you come in.

I would love any advice you have to offer.


Any ideas on how to make it heal faster or at the very least stop itching so horribly that I wake up every two hours feeling I am covered in fire ants?

My husband has had it a zillion times, but his advice is to wait it out, that's what he does.  (Thanks Luke.)

In the meantime I am kind of literally on pins and needles waiting for some relief.


I will wait.

Yesterday, 3:30 pm

Clark: Mom, is dad home?  Is daddy coming home now?

Me:  Sorry buddy, it's gonna be two hours or so before Daddy gets home. 

Clark:  I think I see his black truck on the street!

Me:  Um, no, that's a station wagon and uh, come in the kitchen with me and we'll find something to do.  Two hours is a long time baby boy.

Clark:  It's okay. I will wait. 

five minutes later...



PS.  When the cat's asleep in an astronaut coat by the front door, the mouse will play with all of his cool stuff.



PPS.  As I tucked Clark into bed, he looked at me very sweetly and said, "I just need to find out why you will not let me smoke a cigar."  I am such a mean mom.


You Capture: Fresh

My neighbor has lilacs.

My neighbor is elderly and has a huge yard and is the nicest lady on the planet and her lilacs are in a far corner of her yard, backing up to our fence.  It is a place she absolutely never ever sees.  I tried to steal some.


Now I have poison ivy.  (Shhh, and some lilacs.)

What is it about lilacs?  They're like the benchmark of the season.  That syrupy sweet fresh-picked lilac smell means THIS IS SPRING, hurry up, enjoy it, don't blink or it will be 90 degrees and too hot to leave the windows open.


We may not have lilac bushes of our own, but we have weeds.  Oh, do we ever have weeds.  Pretty weeds.

I kind of love them.


See that dainty foot?

When Alice was just a few minutes old they put her on the scale to weigh her and I couldn't believe the way she pointed her fresh brand-new little toes as she looked around. She was practically posing. I felt, instantly, like the mom to a girl.  And I knew it would be just like this.


(Please don't ask me why my daughter is not wearing pants or shoes and is instead sporting a Florida t-shirt as her entire outfit.  I don't have a good answer.)

Please head over to Beth's place at I Should Be Folding Laundry for photos of her FRESH new precious BABY BOY, and the many other lovely linky photos.


reading the gaga faced lovey-love eyes

On Sunday afternoon we were driving home from somewhere or other and were stopped at a stop sign, waiting for the traffic to slow down so we could turn left. I looked around (I have a habit of watching people) and up ahead, on the other side of the street, was an isolated private little house, a driveway, a man, and a woman.

The man had the woman by the shoulders, staring at her face with big lovey-love eyes.

"Whoa," I said, "they are in love."

Luke didn't see the lovey-love eyes, so I explained some more, gesturing at the distant couple and shaking my pointer finger all around in the air.

"Look how he is looking at her, look at the way they are talking.  Their faces are all gaga.  They are standing so close.  Those people are sooooo in love."

He laughed at me, and started to pull out into the break of traffic to turn left.  He said he thought the man was breaking some bad news to the woman.  Maybe they were just getting home from a funeral?  Maybe they were coping with something and talking something over --

"HE'S PROPOSING!!!!!" I interuppted.

Luke swung his head around to see a glimpse of the man, the gaga faced lovey-love-eyes man, down on one knee.

We were all excited and giddy at this point.  This might not sound exciting, but people?  It was unbelievable and funny and felt so BIG.

"Do you think he was?"
"Holy crap, that was crazy."
"I think, I mean, it really seemed that way?"
"He was probably tying his shoe."

We were silent for several blocks when Luke finally said, "We have to find out.  I'm going back."

We turned the car around, but were sure they would be gone by the time we got back.

They weren't gone.  They were still in the driveway.  The girl was staring at her left hand and shaking it around, full of glee.

He was really proposing.

The lovey-love eyes couple will never have any idea that total strangers witnessed their private big moment that took place in a little driveway on a quiet sparse street.

I am really good at spying on people.

(My kids don't have a chance.  I will always know what they are up to.  I am pretty happy about this.)


stream of craziness

I was really sick all weekend, and have spent the last few days trying to get rid of the Easter grass and total chaos that accumulated while I sat on the couch blowing my nose.

I've decided I hate Easter grass.

Also? I've gotten really introverted lately.  This is what pregnancy does to me. Is introverted even the right word?  I get all reflective and start over-thinking everything and talking to myself during the day like some kind of crazy lady.  I was in nesting mode for the entire second half of my pregnancy with Alice and I seem to be repeating that.  I get obsessive about silly stuff and important stuff.  I think and chatter to myself about how I want to soak up time with the two kids before I have three and how I want to prepare this house for the (over) load of five (!!!) residents rather than four.  When I'm not thinking about these things, I am doing them, and sometimes I am maniacally thinking about them WHILE I'm doing them.


It isn't that our house is tiny, exactly, it just isn't very big.  It's a 1954 ranch with three bedrooms and one and a half bathrooms.  There are so many things I love about it.  Really.  I have made lists in my head!  I've sighed, recounting them to myself while lovingly cleaning floors and organizing the pantry and purging all kinds of crap from the closets.  No matter how many cozy feelings I have about this little house, to fit another human in it we have to get rid of a bunch of blankets and movies and papers and stuff.  That's just a fact.

(Is it normal to have four people in a three bedroom house?  Do you all have sprawling homesteads or am I in good company?)

It also occurred to me recently (now that I am 21 weeks pregnant) that I am going to be GIVING BIRTH again.
Thrilling, terrifying, and amazing. 

And something to obsess over while I sweep and sweep.  And sweep.

I really hate Easter grass.

(Please squint as you glance at my weird toes and pretend you don't notice them.  Feel free to take notice of  the blue half-moon shaped protruding baby boy stomach without any kind of visual handicap.)


And PS!

This is what was going on on the other (already swept) side of the living room while I took the photo of the junk on the floor.

My kids were playing "The Princess and the King".  I just had to show you what a fantastic dainty girly princess Alice makes, and what a hilarious, pimp-like King 'costume' Clark has on.  He is wearing a vintage White Stag Teddy Bear Coat.  He calls it his King robe.  Like most of the weird stuff I own, it was 75 cents at the Salvation Army.


Luke also said we would need to upgrade our King sized bed to "Emperor"

This morning Luke and I stared at the kids in our bed while we brushed our teeth.

"They're like angels," he said, "like fat little snuggle angels."
 We stared some more.
"Fat little snuggle angels who sneak in your bed every night and make you really uncomfortable and ruin your sleep and cause you to be unproductive in your place of employment," he continued.
We brushed some more and stared some more.
They really are. 
All of that.

(I'm just wondering how we'll fit another one in there.)