trouble in river city

Bryn, bryn, bryn, oh bryn. I love this little child of mine but she is trouble. She lost a baseball this week, her first, for talking. We knew it would eventually happen; she took it well. If talking is the worst of her crimes then I'll take it. Although, yesterday in church: I watched Bryn play with and stroke Tyler's (her obvious crush and Kindergarten cohort) hair. What made me, Janae, and Genessee laugh more was that Tyler didn't stop her and enjoyed the hair tease. Ohhh what is a mother to do. My mom told me stories that I used to have boys pick me up to walk me to kindergarten and I would strut all the way there, but not my bryn. Have I doomed her to a life of fickleness?

everything is going to change now, isn't it?

Twelve married years with aaron. Twelve. Last Sunday I was showing a picture of Aaron and I in front of the temple in Sharing Time and I realized that none of the children including VAL 12 were born yet. That made me feel really old. Really really old. Does it feel like we were Honeymooning in San Fran and Mendocino twelve years ago? Actually it feels more like an hundred years ago. Our lives are so changed; who we were back then, I wouldn't recognize myself or aaron. We thought we were so grown up, but now I just see my former self as a baby, a dreamer, an idealist.

Aboo No!

So I did it: I picked up another contract job. I don't have time for it but it was too juicy to pass up. Plus it's with some old friends and engineers, and it's been fun working with them again. Hopefully I'll finish it tonight and then...no 'and then.'

he thinks because he puts on a pair of timberlines that he has street cred

I am not a runner. But I run. I run enough that I signed up for a 5k. What the hell was I thinking? I hate running. Sure, I do it a lot but I don't enjoy it. I like the way I feel after, that is all. I hate almost every minute up until stopping. So why would I race? I've gone coo coo for coco puffs. It's in 3 weeks. Let's hope I finish without collapsing from insanity.

Jen would be proud.

I googled

My sister Amber has this cool job where she gets paid by google to research people's actual google searches. Just so you know, google knows everything about you, the more you google, gmail, or blog, the more they know. But they do it in a very benign profit-driven way, so I'm cool with it. Anyway, one of her tasks is to look at an actual person's keyword searches in a single session to see if it leads to a purchase. Here are two she posted on her blog (because they are entertaining):

one google searcher's keyword trail:
bbc
mcnair murder
sin by silence (a domestic violence site)
lake shawnee topeka kansas
dove ornament

another google searcher's keyword trail:
Botulism
platform queen beds
safety shoes for women
investment how
offshore bank

I mean how do you get from botulism to offshore banking? It is a wildly fantastic trail of randomness, and I endorse it as a new form of poetry. It is a window into one's very soul really and it's almost more accurate than a diary. After reading her entry on these Keyword Poets, I decided I would follow my own trail and see where it takes me.

Obviously it wouldn't be as free form because I was tracking my own trail and I found I'm not much of a googler. I rarely use search engines--I'm more a destination websurfer. So my trail is more random and disjointed. Still I plan to track my searches from here on out and if I actually create a worthy entry of Keyword Poetry, I plan to post it.

Here is my first attempt:

refried bean recipe
martha stewart
Here be dragons
bob books
3-day potty training

(I know it isn't glamorous, it was my first. But it is a snippet of my life: beans for a mexican dinner I took to a friend, martha because I wanted a killer dessert, Here be dragons is my next book for book club, bob books are great for teaching kids to read which Bryn is starting, and 3-day potty training because I'm biting the bullet on Thursday and trying to train Morgan.)

swine maid

or the case of the mondays? I'm not sure which. Yesterday, I ran around like a chicken and then to stress my day out even more, I volunteered to take dinner to a friend who just had a baby. To simplify my life (since I knew it would be a crazy monday) I opted to make a roast--easy in a crock pot. And it was easy, but then I had to round up all the children, since Aaron wasn't home yet, and all the food into the car. I took the first round of food and the wee ones out to the car. Then as I walked back in, little Bryn said, "Mom, why is all the food on the floor?" My natural response was, "What?!?!" I run inside to find the roast, potatoes and carrots splattered all over (my freshly mopped) floor. Utter devastation. What am I to do? I have two options: scoop up the food and put it back in the pan or bring cold cereal. I scooped the food (I made sure it was clean). It was an act of desperation. I took it out to the car and asked Bryn, "What happened?--The truth bryn."

She quietly responded, "I wanted to help, but I couldn't carry it and it spilled. I'm sorry." Tears dripping down her cheeks.

Who can be mad at that? I told her thank you for trying but next time please ask me for help.

Cowabunga

I had a wave dream last night. The girls and I (no aaron) were vacationing on an island off of south america. We had a little bungalow on the water. And I noticed the ocean was particularly high. Still we continued to swim until I saw the growing wall of water. We had no high land, no car, and it was a small island. Before the girls could see the approaching wave, I gathered them inside the bungalow. I wrapped my arms around them, kissed them and told them I loved them. And then I waited with my unsuspecting children for the end.

chowabunga sidebar: do you remember the tidal wave bubble gum TV commercials? I used to love them and the gum.