tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42592350398589999572024-03-14T08:52:25.483-07:00Yummy MummyThe scattershot thoughts of a yummy mummyyummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.comBlogger118125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-84817906833273530592016-05-07T09:04:00.000-07:002016-05-07T09:04:19.386-07:00Happy 19th!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8vx_QN2cIKoDPbuWOAqxVxQuu2Jm5Q8mNI29ATrbiZsUI2bhsqS3cppZeUyuwX1Wjl_H-KOuXND1TFPdkKTo18Z_PEl7JN94ZOmhckrC9f-7tOuSElFr7-nb2zI2J9qQj_d-lGlvVmswj/s1600/11882811_10155838235310231_2239590367914635234_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8vx_QN2cIKoDPbuWOAqxVxQuu2Jm5Q8mNI29ATrbiZsUI2bhsqS3cppZeUyuwX1Wjl_H-KOuXND1TFPdkKTo18Z_PEl7JN94ZOmhckrC9f-7tOuSElFr7-nb2zI2J9qQj_d-lGlvVmswj/s320/11882811_10155838235310231_2239590367914635234_o.jpg" width="320" /></a>I know, I know. Last year I said that I likely wouldn’t
write another birthday post, but as your birthday draws near, I feel like there
is another post to be written. These annual reflections allow me to briefly
pause and get off my gerbil wheel so I can reflect and appreciate all that has
transpired during the past 12 months. </div>
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Last year I thought that because you would be moving, not
only out of the house but to places far, far away, that I wouldn’t have much to
write about. It turns out that while I don’t have my fingers on the pulse of
your daily rhythms, I still have plenty to say. Imagine that. </div>
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So if I can sum up this last year in a word it would be
“whirl-wind.” From the craziness of getting Logan ready to move abroad and all
the paperwork and little details involved with setting up a life overseas and
in a different language, to moving Quinn to Toronto, which by comparison was
much easier, yet no less emotionally tough—this past year has been a blur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFCsqpoURVbKY-9A-ZBnGz0KODJdWMmkSBVCpEjwmcukJ5Rsm4POj5Iy1vgG3nUhiTnkL8zuiZJIhZMJxnbbyuM1LrvCXHxC5M1eP6wZroya_zGdYZG3T_Ra05_wY3zhawb9ww7SaLZtT/s1600/IMG_0237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgApye58E756a4YTJI-GYpE99CXjE2ni-dM3FY3hcjoLm0gAo9yryaVgLipRlkyptFOxiPLzrySmEQ3RU3vbj9ms5z1M9d-tZdI1N30l-dUBpJAv7tJUB8g55qG-ZqkkUk9eeny8D9JlFCH/s1600/image1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgApye58E756a4YTJI-GYpE99CXjE2ni-dM3FY3hcjoLm0gAo9yryaVgLipRlkyptFOxiPLzrySmEQ3RU3vbj9ms5z1M9d-tZdI1N30l-dUBpJAv7tJUB8g55qG-ZqkkUk9eeny8D9JlFCH/s200/image1.JPG" width="200" /></a><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwFCsqpoURVbKY-9A-ZBnGz0KODJdWMmkSBVCpEjwmcukJ5Rsm4POj5Iy1vgG3nUhiTnkL8zuiZJIhZMJxnbbyuM1LrvCXHxC5M1eP6wZroya_zGdYZG3T_Ra05_wY3zhawb9ww7SaLZtT/s320/IMG_0237.JPG" width="320" /></div>
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Part of the blur is due to not yet having the luxury of time
to sit and ponder and let the reality of you two being old enough to move out
sink in. Our crazy, demanding schedules were still there staring us in the
face, and we are obliged to carry out our commitments with work and life. And
yet no matter how busy we are there is a space in my heart that occasionally
reminds me of your absence in our daily lives and the ache is as real as any
physical pain. But I would have it no other way. I wouldn’t want you closer for
my comfort because it’s always been about preparing you for your adult lives
and being ready to walk into the world on your own two feet, even if your feet
take you 10,000 miles away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0LgWf8eoi33i78oYiifNNAvrTgBQ49v1Fb9xBvQTIjMlp_3GZDg40OK2Vhb3WeoaDM1WU0GL0F0Qt92SyR-IQPzPlu4DydRyF0_ZK8H69oTamd5wJ-mvQXnFUTtDUNsSSP9yWmIkfKBSg/s1600/IMG_0243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0LgWf8eoi33i78oYiifNNAvrTgBQ49v1Fb9xBvQTIjMlp_3GZDg40OK2Vhb3WeoaDM1WU0GL0F0Qt92SyR-IQPzPlu4DydRyF0_ZK8H69oTamd5wJ-mvQXnFUTtDUNsSSP9yWmIkfKBSg/s320/IMG_0243.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb9wP1IyRc13FwMUwhPTbljdXcO0AEhC-bNOnBLrd62cOzNgqehyHDEz11h92LgZ5dH9CO0Bj22nS_UVAJV7gAV34deMparV26WoC7xVHC4L_czn23gII6P1ICr86dHkyVh035a2GbZcvk/s1600/IMG_0240.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb9wP1IyRc13FwMUwhPTbljdXcO0AEhC-bNOnBLrd62cOzNgqehyHDEz11h92LgZ5dH9CO0Bj22nS_UVAJV7gAV34deMparV26WoC7xVHC4L_czn23gII6P1ICr86dHkyVh035a2GbZcvk/s200/IMG_0240.JPG" width="200" /></a>Your past two years of high school were intense so it’s not
like I had much day-to-day interaction with you two, but what I miss are all
the little things that went with living under the same roof.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I miss your music, I miss your banter, I miss
your humor, I miss your wonder, I miss your bitching about how I never cook
with enough salt or butter, I miss your friends, I miss seeing you snuggled up
with Ernie, I miss your squabbles. I can’t believe I just wrote that I miss
your squabbles because it drove me nuts when I had to listen to you argue about
the most ridiculous things. On second thought, maybe I don’t miss your
squabbles as much as I miss you two together. </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You two continue to enhance our lives in ways we wouldn’t
know possible without having the good fortune of being your parents. Your
future is as much a question mark as any, but your foundation is strong. There
is no question that you are both whip-smart, but as you’ve heard us say a
thousand times before, smarts without a moral compass and compassionate heart
is hollow. What we continue to admire most about you both are your qualities
that truly matter in the end: your kindness, empathy for others, quick smiles,
sense of justice and fairness, passion, and ability to love and be loved.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know you roll your eyes every time we get all gushy and
tell you how much we love and admire you, but I’ll say it again, we love and
admire you and our lives are infinitely richer because of you two. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank you for allowing us to experience a love
that is beyond words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Happy, happy 19<sup>th</sup>
birthday my sweet boychicks. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-11853297424367573062015-05-07T07:17:00.000-07:002015-05-07T07:17:53.755-07:00Happy 18th birthday!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Dearest Logan and Quinn,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I missed writing you a birthday post last year and since you
are turning 18 this year and moving on, this will most likely be my last
birthday post. Aren’t you relieved?! After this year we will no longer be under
the same roof where I can track your daily rhythms. As much as this thought
makes me break out in a cold sweat, it is also what dad and I have been
preparing you, and us, for these past 18 years. Giving you roots and wings has
been our goal, and I am totally taking this moment right now to pat ourselves
on the back because HOLY SHIT, you guys are ready to soar!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_fXWCk-9X8PxOco0FHTAk6Vk7kPyBfMkjSNoDi4voj5FlM5tuIS80NcDNXWD5AHBrVnJ5cdUhhDOCeG8vEhokW3e27QQc6PKNBZPvU0OuclCON0jGlsPcOxzlN197oSm6CFZMvxKlpGR/s1600/IMG_0178.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_fXWCk-9X8PxOco0FHTAk6Vk7kPyBfMkjSNoDi4voj5FlM5tuIS80NcDNXWD5AHBrVnJ5cdUhhDOCeG8vEhokW3e27QQc6PKNBZPvU0OuclCON0jGlsPcOxzlN197oSm6CFZMvxKlpGR/s320/IMG_0178.JPG" width="308" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dad and I were talking about all the moments and decision
points these past few years that have allowed you the opportunities you now
enjoy. Who knew that when we first stepped foot on French soil that Logan would
end up returning to France to study at Science Po! Who knew that years of
internalizing the traditions presented in Harry Potter that Quinn would go on
to study science at University of Toronto and be part of the collegiate
structure similar to Oxford University!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It turns out that seemingly inconsequential moments and pursuits can
actually shape the course of one’s life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If we rewind the tape to just five years ago it was because
we first vacationed in Paris before visiting family in England that planted the
seed to return to Paris the following year for an extended stay. It was because
we hit the pause button on our life while in Paris that allowed us to think
beyond our borders and consider moving to Canada. It was because we had the
good fortune of dad’s Canadian citizenship that allowed us to actually move to
Canada. It was because you two were always industrious and curious students
that you were able to test into the IB program in Vancouver. It was because you
were nurtured and educated in such a quality manner that you were able to apply
and be accepted into some of the most rigorous post-secondary institutions in
the world. Wow. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What has been really interesting to me is to see you settle
into your young-adult selves. Some of your patterns and behaviours are such
clear reflections of me and dad that I am often dumbstruck. When people talk
about reincarnation, I think it has to do with seeing versions of yourself in
your offspring. Seeing ourselves reflected in you has given us the opportunity
to provide guidance and perspective so that you can take our thorny parts and soften
their edges. Amazingly, you’ve both been open to hearing what we have to say.
What you ultimately do with the information is entirely up to you, but you
can’t say we didn’t warn you! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVFR9d9s0OU1QlsR-y7w4y51eCP8i60_KOVW2ieM4ZmbgKBPOHpgIspfaE92OE5ziaqG4bM56Um9ps0fVAIzwKpO2FzohzDzcIv7wpTX0oj9udDU_3BVnfYUtup1Xm1jchqGIxXoayN2a/s1600/IMG_0174.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVFR9d9s0OU1QlsR-y7w4y51eCP8i60_KOVW2ieM4ZmbgKBPOHpgIspfaE92OE5ziaqG4bM56Um9ps0fVAIzwKpO2FzohzDzcIv7wpTX0oj9udDU_3BVnfYUtup1Xm1jchqGIxXoayN2a/s320/IMG_0174.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What comforts us, as you are about to embark on the next
exciting phase of your lives, is that you have a variety of tools at your ready
to cope with whatever the world decides to throw at you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hardest part as a parent is no longer
being able to stand in between you and the stings and bitter disappointments of
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I now understand the Homeric
metaphor of lashing oneself to the mast to avoid being seduced by the siren’s
song. As your mum I sometimes felt as if I had to be lashed to a pole so as to
not interfere with you experiencing some of the painful realities of life. Part
of growing up and learning how to cope is to feel life’s arrows being directed
your way. Let me just say right now that this part of parenting SUCKS, but it
is necessary if you are to develop into autonomous individuals. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In all honesty, you’ve only sipped at the cup
of disappointment. Perhaps you’ll be fortunate and be spared too much hurt and
pain, but remember that beauty is found in contrasts and without the shadows
you wouldn’t see the light. I think every parent’s wish is for their children
to be safeguarded from the jabs and pokes, but it would be unfair to you to try
and protect you from the ugly truths of walking as a human in this world.
Sometimes there is no explanation for the ugly sides of our species. You can do
all the right things and it doesn’t matter at all if your security is
jeopardized. We are truly privileged and blessed to not know the horrors of
living in a war-torn country or to be an oppressed people. May you always
remember your privilege and work to better the position of others. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember that you don’t have to look far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While your work with your charity helping
school girls in India is commendable there are plenty of people who live close
by who suffer institutional injustices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
know you know this, but I am cramming in every last bit of advice while I still
have you near! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirb-gxaMc6bFB4FOcWraCWUZgLM_5KeLLkB7uoZ155ccDIXCn0q9fO27hfh5GvjZ4-qcjsNFUHsh_1dUWuGP7VcIvQPoch7KD2ezRstD6ZxKp_gdntWhuHcf4w9dpy7BOIAKF2xE-MPhcb/s1600/482327_590363907641768_1617716130_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirb-gxaMc6bFB4FOcWraCWUZgLM_5KeLLkB7uoZ155ccDIXCn0q9fO27hfh5GvjZ4-qcjsNFUHsh_1dUWuGP7VcIvQPoch7KD2ezRstD6ZxKp_gdntWhuHcf4w9dpy7BOIAKF2xE-MPhcb/s320/482327_590363907641768_1617716130_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Being a parent is the surest way to better understand your
own parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most parents will find
themselves repeating things their own parents said and this will either make
you smile or cringe, or both. I’d have to say that as you get ready to move out
on your own I now totally get why my parents are always so keen on bringing the
family back together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I already feel
this way with you two and you haven’t even moved out yet! Please just indulge
us as the years tick by and we beg you to come home for the holidays. I’ll do
my best not to embarrass you! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkY2VBEnaCcmM4XZxMUcrCWvtiCEkCRFBtV5ySXlvcs4K6oFh9mTtg1YKelqKyF398ek0biu1r9R2dlSmK5PNnCQNYBupoDz23cDDikU-oQp5z8zwqQEztA3GspMRQoiOq75TFIlsV4Nck/s1600/2014-10-27+10.53.30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkY2VBEnaCcmM4XZxMUcrCWvtiCEkCRFBtV5ySXlvcs4K6oFh9mTtg1YKelqKyF398ek0biu1r9R2dlSmK5PNnCQNYBupoDz23cDDikU-oQp5z8zwqQEztA3GspMRQoiOq75TFIlsV4Nck/s320/2014-10-27+10.53.30.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bottom line is that dad and I couldn’t be prouder of who
you two are. While it’s easy to boast about all your academic accomplishments
and extracurricular pursuits, what we are most proud of is your integrity and
kind-hearted spirits. You are principled, kind, honest, giving, open, caring,
loving, and good-natured. These are the qualities that truly matter. While it’s
great to be well-educated and have connections, if you’re a jerk, you’ll end up
lonely and bitter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What ultimately
matters in the end is the quality of your relationships as these will see you
through the hard times. It sounds so cliché and it really does take a long
while to truly understand, but in the end it isn’t about money or fame or
titles, but about our connections with others and the ability to love. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiSpXa4Ed2fEb5mpqJqfVIQ6ARN77Lyle0m5vlL_ITgR2DKj6L_L04tv4c8AUFKnTPpK82UvgDGdevDyw0KKjKeSAWyEBMUhzFwhjGP76_NiE_vTYpiV35OuclJDLqpYguPcx9QCQsM7kx/s1600/945185_10151415320308575_1106754567_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiSpXa4Ed2fEb5mpqJqfVIQ6ARN77Lyle0m5vlL_ITgR2DKj6L_L04tv4c8AUFKnTPpK82UvgDGdevDyw0KKjKeSAWyEBMUhzFwhjGP76_NiE_vTYpiV35OuclJDLqpYguPcx9QCQsM7kx/s320/945185_10151415320308575_1106754567_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Happy, happy, happy, happy 18<sup>th</sup> birthday my
darlings. You have been given roots and wings, it’s time to fly. We love you
more than is possible to measure and remain your biggest fans. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With Love,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maman </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsYnRyU0XV15mGMtLUgnDr6z4_MKCov_-LRaz8CRKROOU7ZzNnFz5S6JA96L-w71EK5GHC9DoBQ0ai6hAw2B-14S3D9fCjFL3_0mIcfNqEPFHCj4nw-Na5iorj_LZB2iAnSjbvkoSysHUh/s1600/2755872310_0bdb67e236_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsYnRyU0XV15mGMtLUgnDr6z4_MKCov_-LRaz8CRKROOU7ZzNnFz5S6JA96L-w71EK5GHC9DoBQ0ai6hAw2B-14S3D9fCjFL3_0mIcfNqEPFHCj4nw-Na5iorj_LZB2iAnSjbvkoSysHUh/s320/2755872310_0bdb67e236_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
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yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-11184508702437175862013-12-06T16:34:00.000-08:002013-12-06T16:34:53.278-08:00Making My Mother Proud!My mother will always be the trophy holder for domestic primping, plumping and beautifying. I have no illusions that I'm even in the same ballpark, but at least I'm swinging. As promised, here is photo evidence of me going "overboard" in regards to holiday decorating.<br />
<br />
Last year, all I could muster was this:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6cjEWEVIA5pJFCgbLLFABphITSDHNgVtgXG592c2gKBu0Ftaj9Yk3PzSSww2eewkxwv01qECKZzs-Ob3C4rXHxASMKnsnEsKz_-7t9Aw7d-HEPjt1FGHXSlB5Ll45JtqU8q2AOiVysXcG/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6cjEWEVIA5pJFCgbLLFABphITSDHNgVtgXG592c2gKBu0Ftaj9Yk3PzSSww2eewkxwv01qECKZzs-Ob3C4rXHxASMKnsnEsKz_-7t9Aw7d-HEPjt1FGHXSlB5Ll45JtqU8q2AOiVysXcG/s320/photo.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
This year we are enjoying this:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKDwpzW_cHEU1D9kN1CNTquwNMDhmrLR3_gYfYqvNsL8DkQqax4qOXU9lozHSorbAqv6vRDi_Jp-Aid13gERPhEYZM8Gn08z-nyS54A_OANXRe-IG5XQzN-t80M8Ftt8rJQzu_raBOjCWL/s1600/PB300031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKDwpzW_cHEU1D9kN1CNTquwNMDhmrLR3_gYfYqvNsL8DkQqax4qOXU9lozHSorbAqv6vRDi_Jp-Aid13gERPhEYZM8Gn08z-nyS54A_OANXRe-IG5XQzN-t80M8Ftt8rJQzu_raBOjCWL/s320/PB300031.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg9U_xU9WQ9NUANFNEmVUQDjfSohzHSuq3KZK_u_KfAbymRrFYhu44I2CZJSjz79KgfubAUUedNfyJjRD9oqzRqvSyFoXSM6-55_Kkv42P5TJy-TBmmOxv7Sh7a9gpEiuR4H0ZmFl8Xv1p/s1600/PB300033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg9U_xU9WQ9NUANFNEmVUQDjfSohzHSuq3KZK_u_KfAbymRrFYhu44I2CZJSjz79KgfubAUUedNfyJjRD9oqzRqvSyFoXSM6-55_Kkv42P5TJy-TBmmOxv7Sh7a9gpEiuR4H0ZmFl8Xv1p/s320/PB300033.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqjr74CzsV1-VGbD9vWL-n51HWBkh2NzLulxnMILM2_nvMaVW9Y0WQh6_GSs7VkBep5iWOvj7_tNd3vP51umTdNP47YIeHangfbIzhgO7tDVSvGFIQHrmv1JppFhzLOLFtApyXxAMs-Ejm/s1600/PB300034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqjr74CzsV1-VGbD9vWL-n51HWBkh2NzLulxnMILM2_nvMaVW9Y0WQh6_GSs7VkBep5iWOvj7_tNd3vP51umTdNP47YIeHangfbIzhgO7tDVSvGFIQHrmv1JppFhzLOLFtApyXxAMs-Ejm/s320/PB300034.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDOgbkDehGZG9O4IC2g2jRUGECY_Ng60l3F8z3hbRj8-v1d56IHc2cHUJFEYLAkg5ltssqQSjiVd3LgTe2rMupKJFw0V6PROC9W_CCmX1_kBlIehnYsE-YnLaH3cB_2cKU8jvrKvIIoDgO/s1600/PB300035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDOgbkDehGZG9O4IC2g2jRUGECY_Ng60l3F8z3hbRj8-v1d56IHc2cHUJFEYLAkg5ltssqQSjiVd3LgTe2rMupKJFw0V6PROC9W_CCmX1_kBlIehnYsE-YnLaH3cB_2cKU8jvrKvIIoDgO/s320/PB300035.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxJ7OTyIOY166Ny3WeFUpI6TStdDkh0ZGuuegjw3UbRtX7OoHIeonSVYTTAeFm_zdmH0GlaviShb9lfG_fJAf4vXgzou9sXESU0NKXh-nbuJJ1sC-OlN9ckxu6zQEyfiwghBHL4jzXCRq/s1600/PB300036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxJ7OTyIOY166Ny3WeFUpI6TStdDkh0ZGuuegjw3UbRtX7OoHIeonSVYTTAeFm_zdmH0GlaviShb9lfG_fJAf4vXgzou9sXESU0NKXh-nbuJJ1sC-OlN9ckxu6zQEyfiwghBHL4jzXCRq/s320/PB300036.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhp49JPwhu4nqTELijbYrItluqF4hmfi97ANjMtRZ6lqULbMz9t6AMs9XgmEzDpbS8sSVXMD5OPSjuDZmhxkxDwF6wYw0siImy4GND6XkUb4Kcj-cYy_3nihKood59TBrVbmNwjUloigeQ/s1600/PC010037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhp49JPwhu4nqTELijbYrItluqF4hmfi97ANjMtRZ6lqULbMz9t6AMs9XgmEzDpbS8sSVXMD5OPSjuDZmhxkxDwF6wYw0siImy4GND6XkUb4Kcj-cYy_3nihKood59TBrVbmNwjUloigeQ/s320/PC010037.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzR30kShy3wrIMwzM5i5DDxoVCcnsigQ1ukFwPSGB3Dptj4CF21ZPA0h5u8BgugUcLDbD1agMxbuvYweE8FoEP3SJdEm69qO82EaifT2w92_yGQtPqcTbU1slCRdM00MR6PuWQfAYTibnf/s1600/PC010039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzR30kShy3wrIMwzM5i5DDxoVCcnsigQ1ukFwPSGB3Dptj4CF21ZPA0h5u8BgugUcLDbD1agMxbuvYweE8FoEP3SJdEm69qO82EaifT2w92_yGQtPqcTbU1slCRdM00MR6PuWQfAYTibnf/s320/PC010039.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
Yep. It's like living inside a gingerbread house. Christmas wonderland. Ho Ho Ho. Winter Wonderland. Candy Canes. <br />
<br />
yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-88329390336473167842013-11-23T21:14:00.001-08:002013-11-23T21:14:34.721-08:00Flaming Christmas Wreath<!--[if !mso]>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Goodbye Festivus, hello holiday overdose. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Despite the fact that I lack a DIY gene, I’ve decided that
with only two winters left before the boys move away for university, I’d
finally put some effort toward the holidays and “dress up” our home. This may
be a total no-brainer for most, but for me the idea of succumbing to the
holiday madness makes me break out in a cold sweat. Maybe it’s because my
mother transformed our home into a Christmas fantasy every year and when I
moved out on my own the idea of recreating it seemed not only impossible, but
somewhat ridiculous. I didn’t mean to forgo the holiday pomp and circumstance
for so long, but somewhere in between leaving my parents’ home and having kids
of my own, whatever joy I may have found in the holiday season hardened into a lump
of bah-humbug coal. My inner cynic got the best of me and rather than find
pleasure in the festivities of the season, all I could see was the callous over
consumption and bad holiday music that assaulted me by late October. I always
felt holiday burn-out long before the holidays ever arrived. It was easier to be
a Christmas grump rather than carve out traditions of our own. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even after the boys were old enough to enjoy
the holidays, I just couldn’t muster the energy or desire to do much. If
anything I was the holiday Grinch, holding out for as long as possible before
getting a tree (did you know you can get a tree for $5 if you wait until Dec.
24<sup>th</sup>!) or doing anything more than duct taping stockings somewhere
near the fireplace. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is now our second winter season in Canada and maybe
because Thanksgiving here is celebrated in early October, there is no energy
around the traditional Black Friday that always brings headlines of people
being crushed in the stampede to buy that new HD television marked down at
Wal-Mart. It seems like there is a slower lead-up to Christmas here. I have yet
to hear any holiday music being played in any store, and only now am I starting
to see Christmas decorations being put out in earnest. Don’t get me wrong, the
consumption machine is slowly eating its way beyond the 49<sup>th</sup>
parallel, but it has yet to arrive here in full-force. Mostly you read about
the Canadians who are masochistic enough to travel across the border to be able
to take part in all the Black Friday sales. Have these people put no value on
their time? I mean, enduring the grinding crawl to cross the border so that
they can then endure longer queues once they arrive at their big-box
destination, can hardly pencil out!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Quinn and Logan have often felt short-changed when it comes
to holiday decorating. Hell, they’ve often felt short-changed when it comes to
anything related to the holidays. Probably in direct response to my foot-dragging
over the years, they seem to favor my mother’s enthusiasm for this time of year. So I'm giving in and giving them the Christmas bonanza they’ve desired for
so long. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m going from this: <span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjaW6l6BBj6nUYqfmOzunY5r9ss6kIJ2gg7hjsWFtoGAfnCE8nKqzS88klfcpW6GXy5q3CW9O0v2vZUTcdT_imP-L9Z4JNSohIQSnIvT00libOb9WuIcHaHkb4S9KjpzsCC0V2KLqLCtVn/s1600/11278170.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjaW6l6BBj6nUYqfmOzunY5r9ss6kIJ2gg7hjsWFtoGAfnCE8nKqzS88klfcpW6GXy5q3CW9O0v2vZUTcdT_imP-L9Z4JNSohIQSnIvT00libOb9WuIcHaHkb4S9KjpzsCC0V2KLqLCtVn/s320/11278170.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To this: <span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAdz6x9gJKXDF_d6TN17WuEq33Zx1mk0AlxuZbxcb9u7zR2dWgsqeyqx98eFlTC9jrrosFsy6Ny7h1b7ciFu-bUi6su6h4_FA0PPavEh3TnqQ3s94RTCvYdlSVJYSoKlgrVal4A03B6s19/s1600/amok.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAdz6x9gJKXDF_d6TN17WuEq33Zx1mk0AlxuZbxcb9u7zR2dWgsqeyqx98eFlTC9jrrosFsy6Ny7h1b7ciFu-bUi6su6h4_FA0PPavEh3TnqQ3s94RTCvYdlSVJYSoKlgrVal4A03B6s19/s1600/amok.jpg" /></a></div>
<a href="file:///C:/Users/Work/AppData/Local/Temp/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> <br /><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have no agenda other than excess. A million blinking
lights strung throughout the house? Sure. Reindeer cutouts hung on our windows?
Sounds good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A flaming wreath around my
neck? Why not. If it’s holiday related, it’s fair game. And how am I doing with
all this you ask? Surprisingly chill. In fact, I’m sort of excited. Maybe it’s
because my friend Karen has a batch of boozed-up eggnog aging in her fridge, or
maybe I’m finally relaxing about the whole holiday stupidity and am just
succumbing to the madness. I figure I can do this for the boys for two years
and then it’s back to Festivus for the Rest of us!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-12589918677441542052013-05-08T20:15:00.003-07:002013-05-08T20:16:41.205-07:00Sweet Sixteen!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs1ToADM29t6D_IXrOUINqTjbJK-sXn1XIQLuHDs4gumvDAfCih-f86IPu7c22DSC8OLK2sdighWvUBh4xT9s4hD4P6wQcbZatrTp5jnl5cTmDnbpevFJ0iuo8EHvcGYI9BOenl2Ua-S3-/s1600/165993_496784710335699_1625034107_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs1ToADM29t6D_IXrOUINqTjbJK-sXn1XIQLuHDs4gumvDAfCih-f86IPu7c22DSC8OLK2sdighWvUBh4xT9s4hD4P6wQcbZatrTp5jnl5cTmDnbpevFJ0iuo8EHvcGYI9BOenl2Ua-S3-/s400/165993_496784710335699_1625034107_n.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
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My sweetest boychicks,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Oh wait, you’re probably too old for me to still use terms
of endearment, now that you are SIXTEEN! Let me pause for just a moment to
catch my breath. Watching you grow so quickly has sucked the air out of the
room and I am gasping. With no younger children to distract me from your soon-to-be
release into the wild, I have no choice but to confront full-on the reality of
being an “empty nester” in two short years. I suppose I could swan dive
directly into that pool of denial, that up to now I’ve only been wading in, and
get pregnant. Hah, got your attention there. How freaky would that be?! Don’t
worry, I’m not that desperate. No, I
wouldn’t want anything to distract me from fully enjoying your next few years
before you fully take flight. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s a funny thing, this parenting. You see, there’s loads
of information on the going-ons of the toddler years all the way up through
about age 10, and then all the books related to parenting turn to shit. No
wonder teenagers get such a bad rap, most books out there are for dealing with
tyrannical teens. You two have been anything but and so we’re left to our own
devices to muddle through and bumble along in our parenting roles with
mostly-awesome kids. I guess it’s much harder to sell a book that deals with
totally adjusted, interested, curious, inquisitive, takes-the-initiative type
of kids. So dad and I haven’t had much
to go on other than our hunches these past few years, and seeing how you two
continue to blossom into such responsible, fun, loving, caring, intelligent
young men, I guess we’re doing okay, even if there is no book to validate
us. Not that we relied much on books
anyway, but there were times when it came handy to grab a book and know that
what you were doing was age appropriate, like eating your boogers, that sort of
thing. Perhaps there is a book out there that would shame us into believing
that everything we’ve done this past year will mess you up indefinitely, and
we’d feel guilty and second guess ourselves rather than pay attention to the
actual outcome of you two being pretty darn incredible, especially considering
the life changes that you’ve experienced this past year.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
We’ve moved to a new country. You enrolled in a new school
(obviously.) You’ve had to make a whole new set of friends. You have learned
how to maintain friendships from afar. You’ve had to adjust to us being a
family of four (24*7)*4.2, to being a family of four (24*3)*1.25. This last
sloppy mathematical equation is probably the suckiest part for me and dad, and yet
it also the essence of parenting because as a parent you find yourself willing
to sacrifice for your kids in a way that must seem lunatic to people without them.
Maybe we have some precedent with your grandfather, whom you never had the
privilege of meeting, giving up his precious time with your dad and uncle so
that they could escape the city and learn from their extended Canadian family
and life on the farm as teens. Or maybe we just knew you and were present
enough to read your cues that what you desired was possible only by making a
bold move. So we all held hands and leapt, and here we now are. I think it’s
safe to say that we not only landed safely, but you two have hit the ground
running and are starting to take flight. I feel like a mother bird watching you
two teeter on the edge of a nest a million feet above the ground. My heart is both in my throat and bursting
out of my chest with pride at your accomplishments. I can only assess where you’re at through the
lens of where I was at when I was 16. I think it’s pretty safe to say that it’s
like comparing apples to brussels sprouts.
You are light years ahead of where I was emotionally, intellectually and
most important, confidently. There was
no way I could have endured the changes you’ve gone through. I was a classic
tormented teen, full of angst and so inward looking that my head was pretty
much glued to my belly-button until I turned 17 or 18 (or possibly later,
depending on whom you ask.) In fact, I was the type of teen all those books are
written about. Now, I know I’m your mum
and all, but I think I can safely say that the world is a better place with you
in it. Your sense of care, concern, justice and compassion has already touched
the lives of others in positive ways.
Dad and I are pretty much done with the heavy lifting of parenting and
here’s a wicked little secret that no one tells you, but your Job as a parent
is pretty much over by now. We are truly in the supportive roles now. Sure, we
remind you to get to bed on time and turn down the volume of your music every
now and again, but the day-to-day moral teaching of parenting is over. We’ve
pontificated, hollered, spoke until blue-in-the-face, cajoled, rambled,
muttered, and spewed all we can. You’ve pretty much heard it all and now it’s up
to you to take the bits you like and the parts you don’t and craft those
teachings into a shape that fits the essence of you. While it is sometimes
really hard not to tinker and want to reach up and pat your out-of-place hair
down, we do our best to restrain and give you the space to run and fall and get
up again and learn from your life’s terrain. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
I’d have to say reaching your sixteenth birthday leaves me
both sad and ecstatic. And maybe this is the other oxymoron of parenting that
gets little mention, but it’s true. At times I feel paralyzed with sadness that
our day-to-day journey together is nearly over and in the very next moment I
can feel such joy and anticipation for your soon-to-be flight that I can hardly
contain myself. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Once again, I want to say thank you. Thank you for
ballooning our hearts to such capacities that I feel like a helium orb bopping
along the tree-tops. Thank you for allowing us to probe and meddle and inquire
about your lives without shutting down or shutting us out. Thank you for your
acts of kindness to others. Thank you for your generosity. Thank you for making
these past sixteen years the loveliest, enriching and sometimes most grueling
I’ve ever known. Thank you for casting shadows that make noticing the light
possible. Thank you for being you.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
With more love than I think possible to feel, <span style="text-align: center;">Mummy</span></div>
<br />
<br />
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<br />yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-86555960790131973762012-10-23T11:01:00.000-07:002012-10-23T13:06:11.200-07:00Dear DiaryMy friend Karen turned me on to this group, <a href="http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/">Trifecta</a>, which comes up with writing challenges. Having some extra time on my hands, I figured I'd give it a go. It's a good way to jump start those writing gears, which have sat rusty for a while now...<br />
<br />
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #2e2d2d; font-family: Cardo; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" trbidi="on">
This week's word is:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/sinister" style="color: #1f2bad; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">SINISTER</a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #2e2d2d; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Cardo;">1 archaic : unfavorable, unlucky</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Cardo;">2 archaic : fraudulent</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Cardo;">3: singularly evil or productive of evil</span><br />
<div class="sblk">
<div class="scnt" style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 20px;">
<div style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Please remember:</span></div>
<ul style="font-family: Cardo; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.</span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="font-family: Cardo; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.</span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="font-family: Cardo; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The word itself needs to be included in your response.</span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="font-family: Cardo; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above. </span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="font-family: Cardo; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Only one entry per writer.</span></li>
</ul>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">*****</span></div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Margie was typical of her time. She followed the same arc as
most of her peers: School, marriage, kids, and boredom. Few in her town veered much from the
trajectory they all seemed to be on, although a lucky few inserted “teaching”
between school and marriage. Often these women eventually had kids, and found themselves
being pulled back into the same orbit they thought they’d untethered from. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Margie was never one to rock the boat. A tamed, domestic
future was fine by her. She led what she
considered a happy life in bucolic California. Nothing adrenaline-spiking
happened to her or anyone she knew, unless you consider that one time when she
snuck Edgar Allan Poe’s, <i>The Murders in
the Rue Morgue</i> from the library because she was afraid of other’s reactions
to her reading about something so macabre as death. Upon finishing the book she often wondered if
she was capable of a dark side. She tried to conjure up images of her playing
the part of villain, but she was incapable of thinking of anything more extreme
than dressing in black and slinking through dark alleyways. When one lives a mediocre life, even its
shadows are tame. She eventually let go
of such fantasies and settled into the life she knew awaited her. She married
her high-school sweetheart, had three kids in quick succession and settled into
afternoons of obligations to acronyms: PTA, YWCA, SI. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When she was delivered to her path’s final destination of
boredom at age 33, she felt despair. She
reconsidered whether she was capable of a dark side. The next morning she awoke
from a dream that startled her. She distractedly completed her morning obligations and once her children left for school she hesitantly approached her husband's study, put paper in the Underwood, and clicked out, <i>Dear Diary, Apparently I am capable of sinister thoughts. I can't say I'm displeased...</i></div>
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<i>## </i><o:p></o:p></div>
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yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-20564939204736099532012-10-21T14:56:00.001-07:002012-10-21T14:56:25.699-07:00Boots & Umbrellas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Living in Vancouver makes me realize that I have two massive holes in my wardrobe: a decent pair of rain boots and a functional umbrella. Even though I've called the Pacific Northwest home for more than 20 years, I've managed to somehow get through the wet months without these items. Suddenly both seem equally essential. I'm not sure if it's because I walk a lot more and spend scant amount of time in a car going from point A to point B, or if the rain here <i>is </i>different than the rain in Oregon, somehow making me more wet. Whatever the reason, as soon as these rain clouds pass I am hurrying out and going on the hunt for aforementioned items. Your recommendations on rubber boots that are worth a darn, are most welcome. Ditto for umbrellas that actually keep one dry and don't keep showing their undersides the moment a slight breeze pops up!yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-57781456734743106032012-10-13T09:58:00.001-07:002012-10-13T09:58:16.245-07:00Worthy of a Repeat<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I love to cook. I’m fairly certain Quinn and Logan wish I
didn’t. Although I’d consider them non-fussy eaters, at this stage in their
life they’d be happy to eat Goldfish crackers and meatloaf 24/7. My personal
eating habits skew more toward ethnic and vegetarian. I am also an experimental
and impromptu cook and will often select recipes for the evening meal based on
the ingredients I have on hand. I rarely, if ever, repeat a recipe. I don’t do
this intentionally, but I’m not an organized enough cook to bookmark recipes
with notes that read, “Repeat.” Again, I
think the boys are relieved by this as they’d prefer not to repeat certain
meals. Every now and again, though, I knock one out of the park that satisfies
all of our eating needs in terms of quantity and flavor. I figured I should
share it here, not only to remind myself to repeat this recipe, but also if two
teenage boys liked it, then consider it somewhat vetted for your own family.
This is a Thai dish from the cook book, <i>True
Thai </i>by Victor Sodsook. I highly recommend this cook book if you enjoy Thai
food. I’ve made a number of the dishes and they are all equally delicious, and
surprisingly simple. The key, of course, is having access to a good Asian food
market where you can find some more obscure ingredients. Once your pantry is
stocked, this will be a cook book that you’ll reference time and again. The
winning dish from the other night was <b>“Sweet
Pork (<i>Mu Wan)</i>.” <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3 Tbl. Vegetable oil<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6 cloves garlic, pounded to a mash or crushed and chopped<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
¾ pound pork tenderloin, cut crosswise into thin medallions<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2 Tbl. Thai fish sauce (<i>nam
pla)</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
4 Tbl. Golden brown sugar<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
½ tsp. white pepper<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Crispy Shallots* recipe to follow<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Place all of the ingredients within easy reach of the cooking
area. Set a wok over medium-high heat. When it is quite hot, add the oil.
Rotate the wok a bit so the oil coats the sids. When the oil is hot, add the
garlic and stir-fry for a few seconds, then add the pork. Stir-fry for 4-5
minutes. Add the remaining ingredients and stir-fry until pork is just cooked
through, approximately 3-5 minutes. Top with crispy shallots and serve hot or
warm over jasmine rice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Crispy Shallots<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 cup vegetable oil<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2/3 cup thinly sliced shallots (about 5 or 6)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pour oil into a wok or heavy saucepan set over medium-high
heat and bring the oil to 360 degrees. (To test the oil temperature, dip a
wooden spoon in the hot oil. The oil should bubble and sizzle gently around the
bowl of the spoon.) Add the shallots and fry, stirring frequently, until crisp
and brown, about 2 minutes (note: I’m not sure how the author achieved crispy
shallots in 2 minutes, it took me closer to 12!) Remove with a wire skimmer or
slotted spoon and drain on paper towels. Cool to room temperature. Shallots
will keep for up to two weeks if stored at room temperature in a tightly sealed
jar. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The crispy shallots are essential to making this a 3-star
recipe become a 4-star recipe. Also, I love, love coconut so I make our jasmine
rice with coconut milk & water. It imparts a very subtle coconut flavor,
without being too rich or sweet. Also, if you have leftover rice, then it makes
a delicious breakfast the following morning with a little milk and cinnamon.
Mmmmm.<o:p></o:p></div>
yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-26250287605954790522012-09-21T14:46:00.005-07:002012-09-21T14:47:36.454-07:00About Time....<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGGYfTSO4Wvqm2iOqw-yiTqJHxurFOMJ1Z2M-DflDqO2_CnjCbUUYlPo_TNaipAfV9ALNOtp9Nb24OzPBTxx3GaS0WKOhTEafvt1BbJaZMIt6SbDzXUQBdTD7d-5NQ8zL04fofl7j7Z9E_/s1600/imgres.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGGYfTSO4Wvqm2iOqw-yiTqJHxurFOMJ1Z2M-DflDqO2_CnjCbUUYlPo_TNaipAfV9ALNOtp9Nb24OzPBTxx3GaS0WKOhTEafvt1BbJaZMIt6SbDzXUQBdTD7d-5NQ8zL04fofl7j7Z9E_/s1600/imgres.jpg" /></a>I had intended on keeping this blog more current, especially
given the dramatic shift our lives have recently taken, but all I really have
to show for my intentions are half-written posts that read more like a
completed “to-do” list than a blog. Hey, if I got bored reading through some
earlier drafts then I can guaran-damn-te that you would too. So if you haven’t
checked in in a while and are wondering how I jumped from life is peachy in
Eugene to now living in a new country, don’t worry, I will try to bring you up
to speed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here’s the Cliffnotes version of the past year:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
October 2011 Jim and I made our first trip to Vancouver to
check out schools and see if there was even a possibility about enrolling boys
in school for 2012-2013 school year. We
had expected the answer to be no, until my permanent residency status cleared,
but were instead told yes because Jim is a citizen. Oh my gosh! We made monthly
trips up here looking at schools and neighborhoods and pretty much honed in on
both school and neighborhood rather quickly. Days in between spent figuring out
the logistics of actually making such a move. Mostly this was a smooth and very
easy process with the occasional, WTF are we doing thrown in, you know, just to
keep it real. Craigslist is our friend! Scoped out a few places to rent and
made a blitz trip up one weekend to attend some open houses. Knew after the
first house that that was the one. Applied. Accepted. Woot, woot! July moved
our furnishings and other household items into our new digs and promptly
returned back to Eugene. August, I finally spent more than one night in
Vancouver while Jim and the boys went canoeing with some friends in BC Rockies.
LOVE it here. September was spent co-habitating with our friends who are
temporarily renting our Eugene home while their home is being built. We were a
family of 10 for nearly three weeks. Worked out way better than I would have
expected, which makes me think that co-housing isn’t such a bad idea after all.
September 4<sup>th</sup> moved up here officially. September 5<sup>th</sup>,
boys first day of school in the pre-IB program at Sir Winston Churchill
Secondary School. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So now that you’re up to speed I can do my normal random
thought ramble. I’d have to say it’s too early to say that this feels like “home”
but I also don’t feel like a complete foreigner. It helps that English is the
common language and the driving rules are the same, but there are also subtle
differences that I’m starting to notice after a few weeks of calling this Home
#2. I guess I should first back up a bit and reiterate that while we are living
in Vancouver and very much intend on making this home, we are by no means
uprooting ourselves from Eugene. No, we enough love to plant ourselves in two
places simultaneously. It is different for Quinn and Logan as they aren’t
traveling in between Eugene and Vancouver like me and Jim, but they very much
feel like Eugene is a part of their lives, even if they’re not daily
participants. This is definitely where technology works in our favor (or should
I write favour?) With Facebook and Skype, the boys are able to talk and touch
base with their friends, who are scattered all over really. I will say that we’ve
been somewhat surprised at how easily the boys have been absorbed into the
social fabric of Vancouver. Jim and I had prepared ourselves that this could be
the area that would create stress on the boys and take a while to establish. To
our delight it was within days that the boys were being invited to this or that,
and the group of kids at their school have been so welcoming. Of course it will
take some time for the meaningful relationships to develop, but what a
wonderful start Q & L have had thus far. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Prior to starting school the boys were very nervous about
the intensity of the program (programme?). They’re finding that while it is
more demanding than what they left behind, they are also ready for the
challenge. One of the main reasons for making this move was for their
education. From what we’ve seen so far, we’ve made the right choice. It’s no
surprise to our friends who have kids in school back in the states, that our
education system is in crisis. We can sugarcoat it all day long, but you can’t
tell me that an Algebra II class with 64 students is effective, or that a
French II class with 50 students is going to yield much learning. Add to the
fact that the boys couldn’t get full schedules and it just became clear that we
needed to explore our other options. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No it’s not all unicorns and rainbows here regarding
education, but it is still an intact system that is valued by its citizens,
whether or not they have kids going to school. People really do understand that
every child needs a solid foundation upon which to build their futures. This is the first year that the boys have NO
classes together. This has become increasingly important as they’ve grown
older. Being identical twins has many advantages, but most important is the
opportunity to grow and develop as individuals. That is much harder to do if
you don’t have any time apart. So no classes together this year; they have full
schedules, meaning 8 classes; and the largest class they’re in has 30 students.
I get the sense that they’re really going to be educated here, not simply
taught. Their math teacher requires strong mental math abilities, no matter
that they’re having to solve square roots and more complex formulas without the
aid of a calculator. I can tell I like her philosophy already. There is no
English spoken in their French classes (Quelle Surprise!), they have P.E.
classes in which they are required to change into PE uniforms (or strip, as
they’re known here) and are learning golf, tennis, lacrosse, ultimate,
volleyball, basketball, among other sports that they’d otherwise have no real
exposure to playing. The list goes on and on. It feels like we just set the
dial back 50 years. I remember my parents talking about when their high schools
offered drafting, wood shop, metal shop, auto shop, sewing, cooking, etc.,
well, all these classes and then some are still available here. It’s funny
because until those things are gone do we realize what value they have to
society as a whole. It’s not perfect, but what’s important to me and Jim is
still valued and funded here. Sure there’s still school fundraising and budget
crunches going on, but what seems to be different is that people from young to
old understand that a strong and stable society doesn’t happen without a solid
education and all the opportunities that provides. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’d say that the boys have found a daily rhythm, whereas Jim
and I are still figuring ours out. We may not find a pattern in our lives as we’re
still here and there, but even this feels okay. Living abroad last year taught
us how to get out of our ruts and honed our street-skills, so-to-speak. The ambiguity and schedule-less days up here
are taking some getting used to, but I’m confident that we’ll settle into a
routine that will feel more natural. Although, I’d have to say I’m liking the
routine of getting together with my friend Karen and drinking cocktails at
lunch!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What are the boneheaded moves I’ve made since being here?
Well, I naively volunteered to manage Quinn’s lacrosse team, for starters. I initially thought that it would be a good
way to meet other parents and help with getting Quinn established socially.
This may have been true with younger kids, but when dealing with a U16 team,
there is not a lot of parental engagement, so really all I’ve done is agree to work
my ass off and send 1,000 e-mails a day to this group of people. Oops. Of
course, being a recovering Type-A personality means that I’m going to be the
Valedictorian of team managers! Let’s just say when the season ends in late
February, I’m hanging up my hat! The
other oops, is that I didn’t connect with the rowing club soon enough and there
isn’t a slot for Logan until next season. It never even occurred to me that 1.)
the Olympics generate a lot of enthusiasm in a sport that Canada often does
well in and 2.) that these clubs are, shall we say, a bit more structured than
what we’re used to back in Eugene. So
Logan is drifting a bit without a sanctioned sport. We’ll get him signed up at
our local community centre where he can work out, but he is pretty bummed about
not rowing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So life continues to move swiftly along here in Vancouver.
This city just keeps offering up the goods. I promise I’ll be more consistent
in my posts (thank you Leslie for the gentle nudges!) and remember that we LOVE
visitors, so come pay us a visit! We look forward to sharing this lovely part
of the world with you!<o:p></o:p></div>
yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-11643586154726827622012-07-18T11:00:00.001-07:002012-07-18T11:00:13.650-07:00Oh Canada!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6IGfdkppsLUz8_x0Qz7sTkN3zfFWfOCEvH39k-zDh69harBeViIEDX9ECVlCVzTs1CPvNh8Bhdfrlqs1JHPi8SMwgNrz87766TfnzEh_njQe_cMXVUbN61GewJEEKgN0r3mYafhPkJZK6/s1600/CanadianFlag.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6IGfdkppsLUz8_x0Qz7sTkN3zfFWfOCEvH39k-zDh69harBeViIEDX9ECVlCVzTs1CPvNh8Bhdfrlqs1JHPi8SMwgNrz87766TfnzEh_njQe_cMXVUbN61GewJEEKgN0r3mYafhPkJZK6/s320/CanadianFlag.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s official. We are moving to Vancouver, BC—sort of. While
we’ve already taken a number of steps to realize such a move, we’ve yet to
really say out loud that, yes, we are moving. I’m not sure if this move started
last year when we all gave voice to this desired outcome, or if it started way
before then when Jim and I would occasionally joke about one day moving to
Canada. I’m sure having planted that little zygote of a thought all those years
ago was influential in the sense that it finally prompted Jim to apply for his
citizenship, which he was entitled to as a result of his mother being Canadian.
We had no agenda when we started<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>taking
all these little steps many years ago, and perhaps it would still be just a
little bonus tucked away in our back pocket had we not uprooted ourselves last
year and moved to France. That time away not only provided the luxury of
getting out of our daily routines but allowed us to think more clearly about
how and where we wanted to direct our lives. We enjoyed a reprieve from all the
chatter and white-noise that distracts us from carving out the time to think
about where we are and where we want to go. I’m sure you know the feeling. It’s
so easy to get caught up in the flotsam and jetsam of life and much more
difficult to hit the pause button long enough to make adjustments. Our three
months in Paris was definitely about hitting the pause and reset buttons and
it’s really quite extraordinary to think about how differently our lives will
soon look as a result.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will also be
the first to advocate for leaving one’s home turf and gaining some perspective
by living abroad. Our time outside the states gave us the opportunity to more
clearly assess what the educational realities were for the boys not just for
secondary school but for their university education as well. It became readily
apparent that their goals exceeded what was available to them in our current
home town. We figured if they were willing to think beyond their own borders,
why couldn’t we? And thus began our exploration of schools and universities in
Canada.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The “sort of” part of this move is that while we will be
living in Vancouver and the boys will be attending school there, we are also
maintaining our home and businesses here in Eugene. We’ve spent too many years
investing in our community to just cut our ties completely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will be straddling the border and planting
one foot in each country. I know this would never work for some people, but for
whatever reason I am completely nonplussed about living in two places. We
absolutely intend on making Vancouver feel like home, but we’ll have the added
benefit of being able to retreat back to our familiar home as needed. Jim and I
will take turns spending time in Eugene to oversee the continued operation of
our businesses, which is the only real downside to this whole new adventure. We
are fortunate to have employees and managers in each of our stores to keep the
day-to-day operations going, and for that I am extremely grateful. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Probably the most interesting part about actually making
this move a reality is witnessing people’s responses. We’ve encountered
everything from enthusiastic support to head-scratching. Interestingly enough
our most encouraging words come from those who have traveled extensively while
the most resistance comes from those with fewer travel miles beneath their
belts. Not so very surprising when you think about, but interesting
nonetheless. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I honestly have no agenda or pre-conceived notion about how
this will all shake out, which makes it a little anti-climactic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not that I’m not excited to be living in what
is considered one of the world’s most livable cities. I’m stoked, but because I
don’t feel like I am escaping anything or need a major change just for the
jolt, it doesn’t have the energy behind it that one might imagine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If anything, I feel exceedingly grateful that
we have this option. It’s one of those things that you hear people make idle
threats about doing, and here we are actually DOING it. So thank you to Canada
for heavily recruiting Ukrainian immigrants in the early 1900s and thank you to
Olena Grykuliak (Jim’s mum) for always maintaining her ties to Canada and never
giving up her Canadian citizenship, even though she’s lived most of her life in
the states; and thank you to Canada for recognizing that the off-spring of
Canadian born citizens might want to return to their familial homeland one day;
and thank you to everyone in Canada who we’ve worked with to make this
transition possible-- your kindness and help and humanity remind us with every
encounter that this is all worthwhile. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-91957602154872397962012-05-13T16:48:00.000-07:002012-05-13T16:48:12.121-07:00Happy Birthday<link href="file:///Users/tamarairminger-underwood/Library/Preferences/Microsoft/Clipboard/msoclip1/01/clip_clip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidMS28MqH2VQ7c4DscnGx_tKIX8qwGsmCKpDd_JMwzR3ssflQ_m5pqALKt86ar4plMggoxzoHcOIDcRvQOFWVkwJNaYisDqfOl8LCfXeMGZPiIuvIAPFjnfg82oihpc86vMcR4L-FwdKUk/s1600/P5070029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidMS28MqH2VQ7c4DscnGx_tKIX8qwGsmCKpDd_JMwzR3ssflQ_m5pqALKt86ar4plMggoxzoHcOIDcRvQOFWVkwJNaYisDqfOl8LCfXeMGZPiIuvIAPFjnfg82oihpc86vMcR4L-FwdKUk/s320/P5070029.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYrpR07HKCxrX7K7x_ZjwPj-YlSUzosbBmI1dpBoRHpUUK3jvwa_8cxBZqO784v_aM9dVi55Bs9RFfjtSghfRnF8jOTPsbVfNX1CIeLw4HSis6_wEW2esQ-Fvqrdh1XJw81X-BOikI0Ypn/s1600/P5070016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYrpR07HKCxrX7K7x_ZjwPj-YlSUzosbBmI1dpBoRHpUUK3jvwa_8cxBZqO784v_aM9dVi55Bs9RFfjtSghfRnF8jOTPsbVfNX1CIeLw4HSis6_wEW2esQ-Fvqrdh1XJw81X-BOikI0Ypn/s320/P5070016.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear Quinn and Logan,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I figured since I am belated in writing my annual birthday
letter to you, I may as well just be even a few days later and write this to
you on Mother’s Day, since I wouldn’t be celebrating this day without you two.
Could it be possible to love and admire you two any more? Perhaps, but it is
hard to imagine. Once again, this past year has been filled with absolute
wonder, joy, and surprise. Last year we were celebrating your birthdays in
Paris, this year we’re back home, but that Paris flame is still flickering and
the imprint of our three months there has definitely shaped the young men you
are still blossoming into. Maybe it had to do with living in a small apartment,
or maybe it’s a true sign of your maturing, but whatever the reason, there is a
settling into your skin that we’ve witnessed in you two this past year. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We know that being twins has it challenges and we figured
that eventually, what outsiders marvel at, would one day become apparent to
you. Up until this year there was more competition and an edginess that defined
your twin-ship. This year you’ve really grown in your self-awareness and
confidence and individuality and it seems that you two are able to recognize
that walking through this world as a twin can be an asset rather than a hindrance.
Of course, I fully expect that when you read that you’ll disagree and possibly
roll your eyes, but I’m here to tell you that the softening between you two is
palpable. You are each more willing to let the other complete a sentence
without needing to finish it, you are allowing each other the space to be
individuals and as a result you seem to enjoy some of the pleasures of being a
twin. Or maybe it has less to do with joy and more to do with the fact that you
can finally play identity tricks on your teachers and schoolmates. Yes, those
stories trickle back to us, and we can’t believe it took you two this long to
realize the fun you could have with being identical. Regardless, it has been
such a joy to witness your growth in confidence and the joy of discovering your
interests as individuals. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This has been a year of transitions for sure. You started
high school this year after being gone from your classmates last year. The
transition to school and the craziness that goes along with classes, homework, and
sports has seemed to be much easier for you than it was for me and dad. Perhaps
we are less resilient to change, but I feel as if I’m just settling into your
school routines, and oh my god, school’s almost done! Don’t worry, that’s just
my lag-time parenting, which has pretty much been my modus operandi since your
birth.<span> </span>I would like to think that
I’m one step ahead of you two, but I’ll share my little secret now—you’ve
already lapped me twice! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While we are incredibly proud of your scholastic achievements,
we are more proud of your kind and loving spirits. You two are empathetic to
others and will lend a hand or word of encouragement when needed. These are the
traits that will truly matter in life, and you are both off to a great start. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still freak out at the thought of being an “empty-nester”
in only a few short years, but I’m also excited to see what directions you
begin to steer your lives.<span> </span>These
next few years will be filled with major life decisions, and the fact that
you’ve already begun to give voice to the directions you want to take and are
willing to make some sacrifices now in order to end up where you want to be
just reminds us yet again of your maturity. Most fifteen year olds still can’t
correlate cause and effect, but you two seem to have a very clear understanding
of the decisions you make now and how they’ll affect your future. We honestly
couldn’t ask for more. We love you beyond measure and while I will absolutely
accept you cooking me a meal for Mother’s Day, I feel it is me who should
celebrate you. Happy (belated) birthday my darlings and thank you for giving me
the gift of motherhood. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Love,<o:p></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;">Mummy</span><!--EndFragment-->yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-21474124424472442332012-04-25T10:49:00.001-07:002012-04-25T10:49:59.896-07:00Minced ginger<div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tamara_irminger/7106328847/" title="Minced ginger"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7074/7106328847_e5e6376804.jpg" alt="Minced ginger by Tamara Irminger" /></a><br/><span style="margin: 0;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tamara_irminger/7106328847/">Minced ginger</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tamara_irminger/">Tamara Irminger</a> on Flickr.</span></div><p>This is Logan's minced ginger! I have never minced ginger this well, but now I know who to ask!</p>yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-57067220466702974472012-04-25T10:48:00.003-07:002012-04-25T10:48:58.835-07:00Aftermath<div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tamara_irminger/7106328253/" title="Aftermath"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8142/7106328253_7aba1e05b9.jpg" alt="Aftermath by Tamara Irminger" /></a><br/><span style="margin: 0;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tamara_irminger/7106328253/">Aftermath</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tamara_irminger/">Tamara Irminger</a> on Flickr.</span></div><p>Mayhem, but so worth it.</p>yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-18054790271230225942012-04-25T10:48:00.001-07:002012-04-25T10:48:16.068-07:00The dude can cook<div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tamara_irminger/7106327661/" title="Logan & his Beef Lo Mein"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8015/7106327661_196d38b16c.jpg" alt="Logan & his Beef Lo Mein by Tamara Irminger" /></a><br/><span style="margin: 0;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tamara_irminger/7106327661/">Logan & his Beef Lo Mein</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tamara_irminger/">Tamara Irminger</a> on Flickr.</span></div><p>In order for the boys to get an “A” in their International Cooking class this term, they are required to cook meals at home. We just found this out, when the boys’ progress reports were received and the only “Bs” were in cooking. Whaaaa? They explained why and we promptly told them they need to start cooking at home. They groused a little but by this past weekend they had each arranged opportunities to cook a meal. Logan chose Beef Lo Mein and after shopping with Jim for the necessary ingredients he came home and wowed us all. First off, his mincing and chopping abilities would put even a seasoned cook to shame. This kid uniformly minced fresh ginger, which is no small feat. The dish was perfectly seasoned as a result of his fine mincing skills and he nailed the meat so that it was tender and perfectly cooked. The house smelled great and sitting down to eat a meal that your own teenage kid has cooked made it even better. I will say that he managed to use just about every kitchen utensil/gadget he had access to and the clean-up afterwards was no small job. Not that Logan was concerned with that detail as the “rule” in our house is the cook never cleans, so it was me and Jim scrubbing, sweeping, wiping and mopping after our delicious meal. Small price to pay if you ask me…</p>yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-39704918557752132802012-03-21T13:48:00.003-07:002012-03-21T14:21:15.674-07:00Spring 2012<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8eFhrmJkQhAiDJLVJEnECR2emRM-kUUBIuxwF_XkPpRVAwas0x5LBt99BRwqgMUDE1gjkuh2QmYJ-fFJcMEsRK7QTbGvdMhorMsMhMj4KH-Evfu7rCEx4RtVThZahFeQ-HdrKbfiM_wIV/s1600/P3210002.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8eFhrmJkQhAiDJLVJEnECR2emRM-kUUBIuxwF_XkPpRVAwas0x5LBt99BRwqgMUDE1gjkuh2QmYJ-fFJcMEsRK7QTbGvdMhorMsMhMj4KH-Evfu7rCEx4RtVThZahFeQ-HdrKbfiM_wIV/s320/P3210002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722460321983007778" border="0" /></a><br />Hey, it's Spring here in the PNW, and whadda ya know, it's snowing. While most parts of the country are basking in the warmth and early glow of the Vernal Equinox, we in the upper west are shoveling and wearing bulky parkas. Yeah us! Of course, the kiddos are elated with mother nature's idea of a joke and they've been out all day sledding the slopes of a local golf course. Our town has pretty much SHUT DOWN. I am already feeling cabin crazy. I wasn't expecting a "snow day" and I'm having a difficult time shifting gears into a spontaneous day off. I've pretty much piddled away the first half of the day reading pointless "articles" on-line, but if you want any updates on all the latest celebrity gossip, just ask, because I'm all caught up. I feel like I've just spent four hours in the waiting room at my dentist's, thumbing through all the <span style="font-style: italic;">People, Marie Claire</span>, and <span style="font-style: italic;">Vogue</span> magazines. Now I feel sort of polluted with pointless and meaningless drivel, but, hey, Beyonce looks great post-pregnancy. The six inches of snow we received throughout the early morning hours are now being hydrated with rain, and big clumps of wet, heavy snow are unloading off branches with big "thumps" on the roof, which makes me jump every time one smacks down. Okay, time to recalibrate and get something productive done, happy Spring!yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-76296194244758672552012-02-27T13:45:00.002-08:002012-02-27T13:59:24.643-08:00Pink EyeWhat is up with getting pink eye at this point in my life. What's next? Lice? I swear, I feel as if I'm back in the second grade when pink eye just kept going round and round. Of course, there was also the requisite drama about who had the cooties and a lot of chasing and yelling, "I'm gonna give you the cooties!!!" I think I caught the cooties no less than three times in second grade and stayed home with itchy, goopy eyes and watched Sesame Street and Mr. Roger's and Reading Rainbow for hours on end. Back then staying home was sort of fun. Some adult was there to make sure you were well fed and comfortable. Nowadays, it is just a pain in the ass. I'm the only adult home, heck, I'm the only person home, which means that when I want that sixth mug of chai, I have to make it myself. Thank goodness I am in the middle of a good novel right now, or I'd really be miserable. I'm dragging on energy which means that I can't even apply myself to the million projects that are staring me down, but I'm not tired enough to nap and make all those glowing eyes go away. Grrrr. Let's just hope this is an isolated case and that we don't become a pink-eye endless loop within our household. This is definitely not the time to be "spreading the love" and so I'll stay holed up until the crust clears and keep my fingers crossed that our cootie-voodoo works.yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-85831372263645365552012-02-06T16:00:00.000-08:002012-02-06T16:12:32.255-08:00Fool's SpringWell, it's that time of year again in the Pacific Northwest. That time when everyone may as well be running around and shouting "GOLD" and setting off a total frenzy of people thinking that there's really gold in "dem dar hills." Alas, it's not gold, only Pyrite, which looks just like gold, but isn't, or in this case people are running around in short sleeves and buying vegetable starts and dreaming about tomatoes because it looks and feels an awful lot like spring, but sadly, it isn't. This pretty much happens every year around these parts, we get a week of glorious weather and we're all lulled into believing that that Oregon's climate is similar to California's, but if you've lived here long enough then you know that this week of nice weather is really just weather Pyrite. It's Fool's Spring and it won't last, sadly. No, in a week's time we'll once again be shapeless forms under layers of Capillene and Gor-Tex and we'll hunker back into our caves and won't come out again until late June. Don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying this weather and the brilliant, blue sky and the sun and light, but I'm not being pulled into a false sense of security that it will last, because it never does. I haven't yet decided if this is nature's way of playing a joke on us who live in the Northwest or if it's a lifeline thrown to all of us so we don't go completely bonkers. Either way, the sun is shining, the branches are budding and there is a sense of hope. Even though I know I'm holding Pyrite in my hands I'll just pretend that it's gold and join the rest of the masses who are out in force stretching their limbs and blinking hard at the bright light.yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-13035672548424505342012-02-04T10:31:00.000-08:002012-02-04T10:32:14.775-08:00Delicioso!<meta name="Title" content=""> <meta name="Keywords" content=""> <meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> <meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"> <meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"> <meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"> <link rel="File-List" href="file:///Users/tamarairminger-underwood/Library/Preferences/Microsoft/Clipboard/msoclip1/01/clip_clip_filelist.xml"> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:usemarginsfordrawinggridorigin/> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Times;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">I can pinpoint exactly when my love affair with cooking began. It wasn’t, sadly, after eating a life-changing meal at a brasserie in Paris, but rather after reading <i>Under the Tuscan Sun </i><span style="font-style: normal;">by Frances Mays. I distinctly remember my mouth salivating and wishing I were eating the meals that she was writing about in her book, and then it dawned on me: I could. Up until that moment I was more of an anti-cook, mostly by choice. NOT learning to cook was my way of rebelling against my mother. We rarely ate out when I was growing up, and all of our meals were shared as a family around the dining room table. I can’t say that I have particularly fond memories of the foods we ate while growing up, there are no stand outs that I can recall, but I do remember my mother spending a lot of time in the kitchen and when I was in the throes of my teen years, that was THE LAST PLACE you would ever find me I vowed, and probably screamed at one point. And so I never did really cook or even attempt to. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">After Quinn and Logan came along and they went from a liquid to solid diet, well if someone wasn’t cooking or at least <i>preparing </i><span style="font-style: normal;">food, then we’d find ourselves in a bit of a pickle. And so I went from no cooking ever to at least preparing food items for the boys. I do recall them eating a lot of tofu dogs, which makes me cringe now. As I bumbled my way through their earliest years and as their appetites grew, I do remember feeling the stress of my limitations when it came to food. Jim and I both value and treasure the nightly ritual of family time at the table, but if there isn’t much to put on the table, then what’s the point. We ate out a lot! We probably single handedly kept certain restaurants in business well beyond their prime, but we also made lasting friendships, particularly with Keung whose Korean cooking kept us well nourished and satiated, and thankfully, exposed the boys to spicy, Asian cuisine. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">In my twenties my motto was “eat for fuel.” This was also Jim’s motto and so we were both perfectly happy to eat peanut butter and honey rolled into a whole-wheat tortilla for nights on end. Neither of us wanted to be bothered with anything elaborate nor time consuming. I had no inclination to spend any more time in the kitchen than was necessary. And then I read <i>Under the Tuscan Sun</i><span style="font-style: normal;">, and I was forever ruined—but in a good way. It is no wonder that it took writing to convert me into a cook. I’ve always been a sucker for anything well-written and as I was reading Ms. Mays’s description of the succulent vegetables and chicken that melted in one’s mouth, well I felt as if I were right there with her and my mouth was salivating and all I remember is that I wanted to be experiencing what she was writing about. My first thought was, “What restaurant would serve such a meal around here?” My second thought was, “Wait, I could probably make that myself!” The very next day in all my exuberance as newly crowned “home chef” I went out and purchased vegetables that prior to that moment I had never considered and then I really over the edge and bought a whole chicken. This, my friends, was an enormous step for me. I absolutely refused to touch raw meat until that point. Imagine Jim’s surprise when I came home with said provisions! I followed the recipe and being that our kitchen was ill equipped with the proper utensils, I definitely hacked my way through the instructions, but I did it. A few hours later and voilå! While the flavor of my prepared meal tasted nothing like the description in the book, I surprisingly found the whole process not only enjoyable, but relaxing. Believe me, I was a bit stunned and it took a bit of work to reconcile these newly discovered feelings. Me, relaxed in a kitchen! Go figure. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Fast forward to present day and I am buried in cookbooks, cooking magazines, and my computer is bookmarked with more cooking blogs/recipe websites than I can handle. In short, I love cooking and I get cranky if more than a few days pass when I can’t cook. (Look at me now, mom!)<span style=""> </span>Over the years I’ve matured in my understanding and knowledge of cooking. Anyone can follow a recipe—well, most anyone—but that doesn’t at all guarantee good results. Au contraire. I’ve learned the subtleties of how to build a recipe, the balance of salt/sweet or spice/starch. I have a long ways to go before I have the confidence to build meals without the guidance of a recipe, but I am more comfortable to veer from a recipe as my taste dictates. I would say that I tinker with recipes more often than not and it wasn’t until my dear friend and cook extraordinaire, Amy, suggested a Spanish cookbook to me, that I understood subtleties with cooking. The first recipe I tried from this cookbook, <i>Delicioso-The Regional Cooking of Spain </i><span style="font-style: normal;">by Penelope Casas Albøndigas con Picada de Almendra (Meatballs in Almond, Garlic and Parsely Sauce.) Normally if a recipe called for a 1/2 cup of chopped onion, I’d ignore it and add a whole chopped onion. When I read this particular recipe, however; I knew that this was a recipe I should follow to a “T” because it called for such small amounts of certain ingredients that I couldn’t wrap my head around how they’d affect the overall outcome. One tablespoon of chopped blanched almonds? That’s all?! Two tablespoons of fresh peas. Really?<span style=""> </span>So glad I followed this recipe as written because it was so perfectly balanced and the taste so incredible that I learned in that instant that if a recipe called for pollen extracted from a honeybee’s belly, then I would oblige. This recipe was a game-changer for me. I learned that there are certain styles of cooking that really are perfectly measured for the optimum result, and one should pay attention. Here’s the recipe if you feel so inclined:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Meatballs:<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">1/3 cup dried breadcrumbs<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">1/3 cup chicken broth<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">1 pound ground veal or a mixture of ground beef, veal and pork, in equal measure<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">1 tablespoon minced parsely<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">2 cloves garlic, minced<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">1/2 teaspoon lemon juice<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">2 tablespoons minced Spanish mountain cured ham, capicollo, or prosciutto<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">1/2 teaspoon salt<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Freshly ground pepper<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">1 egg, lightly beaten<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">……..<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Flour for dusting<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">2 tablespoons olive oil<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">3 tablespoons minced onion<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">2 tablespoons skinned, seeded, and finely chopped tomato<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">1/4 cup dry white wine<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">1/2 cup chicken broth<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">1 small bay leaf<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Salt<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Freshly ground pepper<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">1 tablespoon minced parsely<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">2 cloves garlic, minced<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Few strands of saffron, crumbled<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">1 tablespoon chopped, blanched almonds<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">1/4 teaspoon imported sweet paprika<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">2 tablespoons fresh or frozen peas<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">To make meatballs, in a large bowl soak the bread crumbs in the broth. Lightly mix in all the other meatball ingredients, then shape into 1 1/2 inch balls. Dust the meatballs with the flour. Heat the oil in a shallow flameproof casserole and brown the meatballs o all sides over medium-high heat. Lower the heat, add the onion, and cook until it has wilted, then add the tomato and cook another minute. Stir<span style=""> </span>in the wine, broth, and bay leaf. Season with salt and pepper, cover, and simmer 30 minutes. Meanwhile, mash to a paste in a mortar or mini processor the parsley, garlic 1/8 teaspoon salt, saffron, almonds, and paprika. Add this mixture, along with the peas, to the meatballs and cook 15 minutes more. Proceed to devour the entire dish!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’ve made this meal on numerous occasions and each and every time we are licking the pan clean. It’s surprisingly easy and simple to prepare and if you follow the instructions and quantities you will not be disappointed. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p> <span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Times;">I’m using this recipe as a reminder of how to go through life. That it is easy to stomp and clomp around, but that beauty is often subtle and we must slow down enough to pay attention to what is so easily overlooked in our hectic lives. By slowing down today, I noticed that our Daphne is about ready to bloom in our front yard and overpower us with the scent if Spring and that the silhouette of bamboo leaves makes for lovely, if fleeting art, and that sometimes less is more. Bon week-end et une bonne alimentation.</span><!--EndFragment-->yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-27143277815874847792012-01-18T11:09:00.000-08:002012-01-18T11:12:58.067-08:00awfulThe weather today: plain awful! It is blowing and raining and it is dreary and all I want to do is curl up in front of a fire and read. It's as if the weather gods just realized that they had been ignoring the Pacific Northwest and now they are concentrating their efforts to make up for lost time. Message to weather gods, "We notice you, now kindly move on. <span style="font-style: italic;">Please."</span>yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-62002978771726792332012-01-09T09:43:00.001-08:002012-01-09T09:43:10.549-08:00Resolution-ish<div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tamara_irminger/6667986877/" title="Lunch near Sacre Coeur"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7141/6667986877_2d11aaa27e.jpg" alt="Lunch near Sacre Coeur by Tamara Irminger" /></a><br/><span style="margin: 0;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tamara_irminger/6667986877/">Lunch near Sacre Coeur</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tamara_irminger/">Tamara Irminger</a> on Flickr.</span></div><p>I’m definitely not a “New Year’s resolution” person. I’m more of a meddler and tinkerer and if in March I feel the urge to set some goals and prioritize, then I’ll do it then. That being said, I love the first day of January and the ritual of putting a blank calendar on the wall. Knowing that I have a fresh calendar with no appointments or commitments penciled in feels so liberating. Of course, it doesn’t take long for each day to end up with some sort of scribble on it, so the freshness doesn’t last long, and thus I’ve learned to savor the first day of a new year, knowing that its sweetness is short lived, but the potential grand. If there is any New Year’s Day ritual I celebrate, it is the fact that I try to sit and reflect upon the recently concluded year and take stock of its highlights. I noticed in last year’s blog that I committed myself to noticing one “odd moment of beauty” per day. I totally forgot that I had started out 2011 by recording such moments and so I thought I should rekindle that effort in 2012. I do remember the positive effects it had and I think the only reason I ceased recording my daily musings was because we moved to Paris, and quite honestly, every moment there seemed like an odd moment of beauty and it was too difficult in choosing just one.<br /><br />So how would I summarize 2011? In a word—magnifique! That little seed that Jim and I planted so many years ago about wanting to pull the boys out of 8th grade so we could focus on travel, actually grew into a realized dream in 2011. While our initial dreaming had us traveling for an entire year, the reality was that three months was the more appropriate number. I’d like to consider it our stepping-stone year for the other worldly adventures that lie ahead. It’s funny how sometimes you get what you’re most ready for, and I think that three months was really the perfect amount of time away. A year would have been almost destructive to us in regards to being away from our businesses that long, but three months was just right. I wrote a lot about our time in Paris in prior blogs so I don’t need to re-hash some of those particulars here, but I will say that as our time in France recedes into the nooks and crannies of my memory, the impression that remains is integrity and ease. Our life up until the point of departure was utter chaos, the timing to leave when we did was by no means our ideal, but we also knew that it was “now or never” and so we did. We left our newly re-located business in the hands of a tiring manager, we left our house and pet care in the hands of a teenage neighbor, we left all of the familiarities and comforts of home for three months of who knew what, and we were rewarded beyond measure as a result. In many ways deciding to up and leave for a three-month sabbatical was a lot like putting up a fresh calendar. We had a blank slate in front of us and it was entirely up to us as to how we’d scribble in the details. It wasn’t that our life in Paris was effortless, it was more that we were able to savor the sweetness of discovery and time together as a family. While we make a concerted effort to carve out plenty of time together while state-side, the reality is that even when we’re together we’re still being pulled in 1,000 different directions. It’s as if our attention is funneled through a prism and we are scattered in our thoughts and conversations. Sometimes it takes being out of your normal patterns to realize just how fractured your seemingly normal, healthy life really is. Our time in Paris moved much more slowly and softly. We weren’t rushed or hurried and there were no demands on us. We were in complete charge of our time. If we felt like visiting a museum or art gallery, we did. If we felt like wandering the streets without a destination, we did. If we wanted a bottle of wine at lunch, we drank. There were weeks when we were enrolled in language courses and so we had to awake at a certain hour and were expected to complete our homework, but even so, we wove these obligations into our day seamlessly. Yes, the many sights of Paris and all around France wowed us, but what lingers isn’t le tour Eiffel or the artifacts inside the Louvre, it was the fact that for three full months we lived fully present and aware and open. Is this possible to do here, maybe, but I’d argue it takes the discipline of a monk. Believe me, I’d love to say “not now” when an oven goes down or when an employee phones in sick, but I can’t, or maybe I just haven’t figured out how to be Zen in my every-day life. I’m more like the wild-eyed lady muttering to herself with curlers in her hair out in public. Living in France was like taking those curlers out and actually doing my hair before going out it in public.<br /><br />France was only three months of our year, the rest of it had to do with re-entry and adjusting to the boys returning to a bricks-and-mortar school for 9th grade. In order to facilitate travel they had to enroll in an on-line school for 8th grade and while they missed out on the camaraderie of their social group, I selfishly enjoyed having them around all day long. It definitely took a while to get used to returning to the rushing around in the morning to get them off to school on time, and then not seeing them until 7:30 in the evening after they were finally done with their extra-curricular activities. We went from being around each other 24/7 to barely seeing them at all. Besides my lamenting this fact, Quinn and Logan are doing exceedingly well in school, sports and their other pursuits. Not that I doubted for a moment that they wouldn’t, but I think way back in the recesses of my mind I wondered if pulling them away from their peers for a year and then having them bottle up with me and Jim in a small Parisian apartment would have any negative ramifications. It appears that the answer is no. Phew. <br /><br />What’s in store for us in 2012? Who knows? We have a number of ideas/options brewing, but as of yet they are still zygotes of a thought. I do know us well enough to know that we’ll travel and work and play—all in equal measure. I also know that I’d like life to move with some of the ease we experienced while in France. How I’ll do this, I haven’t given much thought to other than it probably starts with taking the curlers out and doing my hair. It’s a start and most of us know that all journeys begin with the first step. Happy 2012! May the steps you’re taking today be on the path that you hope to be on at year’s end.</p>yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-36258395185677266982011-12-18T15:02:00.000-08:002011-12-18T15:10:48.800-08:00Christmas ListsEven though I am a total and admitted crank around the holidays (mostly because of all the bad music that is played) I do look forward to Quinn and Logan's christmas lists. In year's past they've asked for wood dowels, duct tape, garden stakes and other obvious kid-friendly items. Even though they are getting older and the lists are less game/toy heavy, there are still some gems. For example, "the Clapper." I kid you not, Quinn has that on his list this year, because how cool would it be to walk into your room, clap loudly and voila -- the lights are on! What will inventors think of next? A way to brown and crisp your bread?! So without further ado, here are the wish-lists for 2011 written exactly as they were submitted to Jim and me.<br /><br />Logan:<br />1. Mouse for computer<br />2. Clothes (socks also)<br />3. ipod speakers<br />4. itunes cards<br />5. shoes ?<br />6. trip to Mt. Hood Meadows<br />7. More cargo shorts<br />8. Paintball Palace trip<br /><br />Quinn:<br />Version:1.0 StartHTML:0000000203 EndHTML:0000010022 StartFragment:0000002311 EndFragment:0000009986 SourceURL:file:///Users/tamarairminger-underwood/Library/Mail%20Downloads/Christmas%20list-4.doc <meta name="Title" content=""> <meta name="Keywords" content=""> <meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> <meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"> <meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 10"> <meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 10"> <link rel="File-List" href="file:///Users/tamarairminger-underwood/Library/Preferences/Microsoft/Clipboard/msoclip1/01/clip_clip_filelist.xml"> <link rel="Edit-Time-Data" href="file:///Users/tamarairminger-underwood/Library/Preferences/Microsoft/Clipboard/msoclip1/01/clip_clip_editdata.mso"> <!--[if !mso]> <style> v\:* {behavior:url(#default#VML);} o\:* {behavior:url(#default#VML);} w\:* {behavior:url(#default#VML);} .shape {behavior:url(#default#VML);} </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:usemarginsfordrawinggridorigin/> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Handwriting - Dakota"; panose-1:0 2 0 4 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:Cambria; mso-font-alt:Tahoma; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:Cambria;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">http://www.gifts.com/christmas/top-picks/teen/pe6L2URpa<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">1.Itunes gift cards<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">2.new slim jeans<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">3.new plaid shirts<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">4.xbox 360<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">5.gift cards to Movie Theater<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">6.new ski jacket<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">7.money!!!!!!!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">8.ipod speakers!!!!:</span> <span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">http://www.urbanoutfitters.com/urban/catalog/productdetail.jsp?id=21360698&cm_mmc=Performics-_-Affiliates-_-Gifts.com%20-%20Affiliate-_-Primary&clickid=0004b4040fb3684c0a4286a3230b4914<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">9.new wii controller<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">10.mechanical pencils<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">11.wii games <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">12.speakers for computer<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">13. watch<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">14.ipod nano watch holders<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">15. bucky balls </span><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype id="_x0000_t75" coordsize="21600,21600" spt="75" preferrelative="t" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" filled="f" stroked="f"> <v:stroke joinstyle="miter"> <v:formulas> <v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"> <v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"> <v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"> <v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"> <v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"> <v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"> <v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"> <v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"> <v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"> <v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"> <v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"> <v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"> </v:formulas> <v:path extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" connecttype="rect"> <o:lock ext="edit" aspectratio="t"> </v:shapetype><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_1" spid="_x0000_i1025" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="::54X6JXWPLSAWRQ6B27VB_M.jpg" style="'width:140pt;height:140pt;"> <v:imagedata src="file:///Users/tamarairminger-underwood/Library/Preferences/Microsoft/Clipboard/msoclip1/01/clip_clip_image001.jpg" title="54X6JXWPLSAWRQ6B27VB_M"> <v:textbox style="'mso-rotate-with-shape:t'/"> </v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><img src="file:///Users/tamarairminger-underwood/Library/Preferences/Microsoft/Clipboard/msoclip1/01/clip_clip_image001.jpg" alt="::54X6JXWPLSAWRQ6B27VB_M.jpg" shapes="Picture_x0020_1" height="140" width="140" /><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">16.</span> <span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">17. new earbuds for ipod (skullcandy)<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">18.LEGO architect set (space needle)<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">19.classic arcade machine<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">20.”oversized beanbag chair”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">21.casual watch: http://www.urbanoutfitters.com/urban/catalog/productdetail.jsp?id=24086753&cm_mmc=Performics-_-Affiliates-_-Gifts.com%20-%20Affiliate-_-Primary&clickid=0004b40404c2f79b0a425186124521c2<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";">22.”clapper” for lights</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">You'll notice that Quinn actually provided links to some of the items on his wish list! Logan asked this morning to see what was on Quinn's list, as he had hand-written his and was pretty sure he was forgetting things. Sure enough, after reading Quinn's he asked if he could modify his already submitted list. Good thing they're leaving us plenty of time...Happy Holidays to everyone, whatever it is you celebrate this time of year!</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="font-family: "Handwriting - Dakota";"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-69540727401910078942011-11-23T09:00:00.001-08:002011-11-23T11:11:23.159-08:00SnuggieToday is one of those days that if I owned a Snuggie, I'd be cuddled up in it right now. It is pouring down rain and really all I want to do is sip tea and read. Of course, that isn't on my agenda at all as we are needing to hit the road in less in a few hours to head to my parents for Thanksgiving. Before we leave there is still packing to be done, fish to feed, laundry, and payroll checks to be written. Which is precisely why I am now deciding to write a blog entry after not having done so in months. This folks, is what procrastination looks like. Fortunately I didn't develop such habits until <span style="font-style: italic;">after</span> graduating from university.<br /><br />Actually, I wish I hadn't procrastinated on keeping this blog-thing going because there is much to write about, but when so much gets back logged, it seeps out in totally convoluted ways and the end result is nothing like I want it to be. What stories could be so interesting you ask? Well, there is the whole identity thing we're witnessing Quinn and Logan go through as twins. Super fascinating. Then there is contemplating a relocation to a different country. Another great story. The new chapter of adolescence that the boys have entered. Wow, is that good material. Will I touch on any of those right now? No. I'll instead fill this page with dribble. Sorry. I promise I will get to the good stuff, and sooner than later. In the meantime, I'll leave you with a teaser.<br /><br />Identity:<br />As a non-twin, I can only imagine what it would be like to have an identical twin. Actually, when I was younger my good friend Simone and I would play that we were identical twins. Our play names where Lisa and Lacey (can you tell we were children of the 70s!) We were absolutely fascinated by the idea of going through life with another person who looked just like you! We thought that if we could be such good friends without being related, imagine what being part of an identical pair would be like. Eventually we grew out of those make-believe games, but my fascination with twins didn't wane much, so imagine my surprise when I found out I was pregnant with twins. Actually, I was more stunned than surprised, but that is a whole other story.<br /><br />The Cliff-notes version of the boys years from birth through pre-adolescence has been one of sameness with moments of trying to be individuals. Now that they've hit full-blown adolescence, where their identities are really taking shape, we're yet again fascinated with how they try to differentiate themselves from one another. For the first time in their young lives they are pursuing different activities. Up until now they've both been involved in either fencing or ballet. In one of the many books we've read on twins, we learned that it isn't unusual for identical twins to pursue similar interests. They are, after all, genetically identical, which is why they often have the same interests, especially when young.<br /><br />Logan decided at the beginning of this school year to discontinue dance and instead joined the Rowing club. I would like to take a momentary break and give a shout-out to all those families who have kids of different ages involved in different sports. It's a total pain in the ass to need to be in one place for one kid and in another place for the other, usually at the same time, because that is how the universe likes to mess with you, and I admire those families who have figured out how to be in two places at the same time. Okay, back to main story. So Logan is enjoying crew and this autumn the crew teams traveled all around the Pacific Northwest for regattas. On one of our drives home from a regatta we asked Logan what he thought about doing something without Quinn around. He responded that it was okay, but mostly it was weird because people knew him as just Logan, not LoganQuinn. He elaborated that he'll ask his teammates if they know who he is, and after giving him a quizzical look they'll reply, "Yeah, you're Logan, why?" He said that his entire life he's had to explain that he is Logan and NOT Quinn. Or he's constantly having to say which one he is because people ask, "Are you Logan or Quinn?" Logan said it feels a little weird to not have to go into any further detail about who he is, he's just Logan, end of story. The following weekend we traveled to another regatta and this time we made Quinn join us so he could see what his brother was doing and be supportive. Apparently no one on the crew team knew that Logan was a twin because all morning different teammates kept going up to Quinn (thinking he was Logan) and telling him he needed to get in uniform and be down at the boats. Quinn was relaying these funny stories to me and another mom and was in the middle of telling us about one kid who actually started eating food off his plate, at which point the coach came up to him and said, "Logan I need you down at the boat now, you're on the water in 10 minutes!" I think this is when I snorted coffee out my nose from laughing so hard.<br /><br />So this is what the boys are going through. They are figuring out how to stand on their own without the constant security of the other around. I am happy they are starting to practice this now and not experience separation for the first time when they go away to college (assuming they go to different universities.) Also, you read about those socially awkward adult twins who still live together in their 70s and never married and just have cats and birds. Not that I think Quinn and Logan would ever tolerate living together that long, but hey, if they don't know how to be apart, it could happen. Funny stories aside, I do wonder what it is like to go through some of the most challenging formative years as an identical twin. On the one hand I think it could make it easier, and on the other, even more difficult. The age old question of "Who am I?" becomes even more spotlighted as an identical twin. I will say that even as the mother of identical twins, I am still equally fascinated and mystified by twins and can't believe the good karma points I accrued somewhere to have the privilege of parenting twins. Even though I still call Logan Quinn and Quinn Logan, I know that they each stand on their own but have the comfort of the other, just like a Snuggie.yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-60886827214449107002011-09-07T11:35:00.000-07:002011-09-07T11:40:14.192-07:00MissingI have instances throughout my day where I will think of a moment, or street scene, or smell while we lived in Paris and I am nearly crippled with longing to return. I miss walking on the uneven cobble stone streets to do my daily shopping. I miss walking across the Pont Alexandre III (bridge) and watching the many people lazing in the park or playing petanque. I miss the cheese and wine and bread. I miss the language. I miss our apartment. I miss the convenience of the metro. I guess, it really comes down to I miss Paris and I cannot wait to go back to my heart's home...yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-91234883662855607712011-08-14T16:19:00.001-07:002011-08-14T16:27:56.685-07:00CystWell, the biopsy results are in and all is well. The lump was nothing more than a cyst with absolutely no abnormalities. Phew. In reading up on cysts, I discovered that having a biopsy was probably overkill, as the cyst could have simply been aspirated and that would be that. I understand the prudence of the health-care industry, but I do wonder if the fear of a lawsuit is really what drives the decision-making process. Of course, it is nice to have the assurance of a biopsy, but the trauma to my breast from the whole procedure was not insubstantial. The biopsy itself wasn't painful, but the swelling and bruising and soreness for the three days following the procedure was not at all pleasant. Regardless, the best way to detect any abnormalities in one's breast tissue is to perform regular self breast exams. So please, ladies, cop a feel and get to know your breasts, you're the first line in defense for cancer prevention.
<br />yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4259235039858999957.post-1031169471756324842011-08-07T14:52:00.000-07:002011-08-07T19:44:28.782-07:00The GirlsOver the past year a local health group has participated in an ad campaign to raise awareness for breast cancer and breast cancer detection. While I absolutely support the efforts, I do find their message of referring to women's breasts as "the girls" annoying. It goes right along with not naming other anatomical parts and giving them goofy names. I mean really, what is so scary about the word "vagina?" So these ads imploring women to "take time for the girls" i.e. feel them up and get to know them sort of irritated me. Now I know that it is important to give oneself monthly breast exams and I am about as regular at self-exams as I am taking vitamins, which if you looked in my vitamin cabinet and found my calcium pills having expired back in 2008, you'd be able to easily deduce that A.) I don't take my vitamins, or at least not my calcium, regularly and B.) I am equally haphazard about breast-exams. I've never been concerned about being regular about monthly breast checks because there is no history of breast cancer in either side of my family and I'm not yet 40 and still feel as if I have 100 years of life ahead of me.<br /><br />Call me stupid.<br /><br />The other week as I was lying in bed I randomly decided to feel for lumps and bumps, which I will say for small-breasted women can be accomplished in less than 45 seconds. As I was feeling around I came across a very noticeable lump. This was enough of a lump that I asked Jim to feel to see if he thought it was unusual, since he feels my breasts more than anyone else. (Yeah, not only am I not afraid of the word "vagina" I'm now publicly declaring that my husband feels me up!) He too thought it was out of the norm and the next day I phoned my OB/GYN for an appointment. Well, that appointment happened Friday morning and by Friday afternoon my chart read STAT and I had both a mammogram AND a sonogram done. Here is a disclaimer for mammograms: they don't hurt, contrary to what you might hear. I asked Jim to come with me because I knew that if the news was bad I wanted to have him there for both support, but also because Jim is a total ninja in the face of crisis or chaos. I knew he would be able to ask the right questions in case I was reeling. After an agonizing wait of 20 minutes the "patient navigator" asked us into her office. I knew that since I wasn't just being sent home and was asked instead to sit with the navigator, my day wasn't over. The radiologist came in and explained that yes there is a lump, which was no surprise since anyone who goes near my left boob can feel it, and until it is biopsied, we won't know if it's a thumbs up or thumbs down. I do have a few things going for me. One is that while there is no history of breast cancer in my families, I do come from a line of women with "dense breasts." Basically our breast tissue is so protein dense and lumpy that mammograms are somewhat ineffective. With this type of tissue, breast cysts are more "normal" and are often benign. Obviously, I'm hoping for this scenario. On a gut-level I feel this is the case, so I'm not spending too much time worrying or fretting. I go in for a biopsy this Wednesday and by Friday we'll have the results. Why am I going into this detail here on this blog? Because I think many of us think, "not me" and we treat our own health like I've treated mine, a little haphazardly. Also, I'm young, I'm in great shape, I eat well, I'm thin and I guess I just can't even imagine that something like this could happen to me, but here I am crossing my fingers and hoping for the best. So in a way this is my own public service announcement. Make time for your breasts, or girls, or titties, or boobies or whatever you want to call them, because you just never know...yummy mummyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13766859440949242593noreply@blogger.com2