Sweet Blood

No, this isn't a blog about vampires. It is one about their close relations, the anopheles, or in lay terms: mosquitoes.

Mosquitoes have plagued me every year of my life from April to September. I get told I have sweet blood. I think this is just a nice way of telling me a nasty pesky ugly bug wants to suck my blood.

Here's the problem. There are actually several. Some are vain, some are apparently genetic and some are just irritating.

First of all, I must clarify that as an adult I have become comfortable in my see-through toned skin. God gave it to me and He also gave me a husband that thinks its beautiful. That's all that matters. BUT, the problem is that when my legs must show in the summer, these pasty limbs are usually covered in: bruises (I am painfully clumsy and usually slightly anemic), cuts (see aforementioned explanation) and--mosquito bites. I think by June I usually have, on average, about 20. Per leg. So, bruise, scratch and mosquito covered legs = hatred of shorts.

This leads into my second problem. I actually didn't know I had this problem until I married Josh. Isn't it GREAT how God uses marriage to point out unpleasant truths about ourselves we otherwise may have never known? (If you didn't hear the sarcasm in my tone, re-read my last sentence with your best sarcastic mental voice) Josh told me one day as I scratched a bite on my knee not to worry, it'd be gone tomorrow. I stopped scratching to look at him with my best -what the heck are you talking about?- face while informing him since I'd just gotten it three days before, I knew it'd be at least two more weeks till it started to fade away. He stared. Then accused me of exaggerating. I stared back. What in the world? He informed me his mosquito bites lasted exactly three hours. Three hours? Was he superhuman?? No. This was a lie. A boldfaced lie. I was sure of it. He had never lied to me before, but this was impossible.

I ate my words. Sure enough, a couple of days later, I watched as a hungry little bug landed on his arm, took a drink and flew off. The biggest, nastiest red bump popped up soon after while he scratched away. Three hours later? The itchy spot had vanished!! What water had I been drinking? My whole sense of reality had been shaken to the core.

Really, these are the only two complaints I can, with some justification, elaborate on. The rest are almost too common to mention. The itching, the burning, the possibility of scarring... you, dear reader, must already be very familiar with.

Well, I shouldn't mindlessly complain. It is my goal to plant eucalyptus all around our backyard area to ward off these little chomping toots. Of course, I had the same intentions last summer.

For anyone who might still think I'm talking about vampires:

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Got it??

One of Those Days

Actually, these are the things that keep life humorous.

Today it was when I noticed that things were a little too quiet. I walked back towards the bathroom to find a happy Isaac sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor halfway through unrolling a brand new roll of toilet paper. Some was in his mouth, the rest in a large heap to his left. As soon as I walked up behind him, he turned around and scowled, let a "humph" and dropped his head. Fun over.

Maybe all my stories will be prefaced with my noticing things were too quiet. Maybe they'll always be in the bathroom. Last week it was another "too-quiet" moment when I went searching. Now I'm going to break my own rule and share a bodily-function story. If you don't want to read it, skip this paragraph. I have a slightly gross habit of not flushing "tinkie" when Isaac is napping. The bathroom is right by his bedroom and flushing has woken him a time or two. Since it's just mommy and baby most of the time, I haven't thought much about it. Back to my story. I arrived on the landing of our bathroom door to see Isaac swirling his hand around in the toity, bringing it up to his mouth to stuff in more toilet paper and then turning towards me to grin. I just screamed. A little too long and unnecessarily. His bottom lip fell over, his face scrunched up and I stopped screaming, realizing I was scaring my child with my unearthly loud hysteria. I took a deep breath, walked towards him a little unwillingly, dug out the wad in his mouth, sat us both on the floor, and after a moment of thought, sprayed the inside of his mouth with my bathroom-stationary bottle of vinegar water. On the way out of the bathroom I of course slammed my little toe on the giant metal trashcan and had a fit all over again.

Yesterday I was working at the computer when Isaac came over to hang out with me. He made his way around the chair to the side that is closest to the wall and all the cords for our computer and the many accessories that go with it. This was of course to discuss the different varieties of cords with me. Thin ones, thick ones, blue ones, white ones. This is a new favorite pastime. I sit there and nod and pretend to agree with whatever he is "saying" when his hand will inevitably get too close. I'll warn not to touch. His eyes get bigger, as if say, "how could you think I'd do so?" While he's looking at me with well-feigned innocence, his hand usually "accidentally" wraps around one of the cords that just dangle so temptingly. Then, of course the stern remonstrance ensues. In most cases this is the end and I remove Isaac from this forbidden (and otherwise closed-off) nook. This time he, of course, sat back in defiance and landed on the cords. He just barely joggled the plug and everything shut-off. I felt my insides swell with indignation as I held back the temper tantrum that would have rivaled any two-year-old. The lesson learned was really more for me. I now keep my chair awkwardly placed where there's no way he can get back to this corner. My back hurts, but I'm not picking the router up off the floor twice a day anymore.

I should probably use the rest of this nap time to clean up the living room that currently looks like a tornado just ripped through it.

My two favorite, silly, messy boys.

Jane & Charlotte

The title of my blog being what it is, it would seem almost expected that I blog about books, literature or libraries. This hasn't ever really been done here. Not because I don't love to read, but because reading has taken a "back-burner" recently.

For most of my life I've been able to plow through pages and pages of novels, non-fiction and the like without much else seeming important enough to stop me. Now that I have a couple of "distractions" that seem a bit more worth my time... reading has fallen quietly into last place.

Any reading I do get to do usually occurs about 15-20 minutes before bed. I'll squeeze in as many lines as I can process before my brains shuts down and my eyes refuse to stay open any longer.

I love all sorts of literature. I love Harry Potter, went through a crazed Twilight stage, The Help was phenomenal and I even made my way through a Stephen King (shudder). But my favorite genre, the most beloved place in my reader's soul is reserved for the classics. This obsession began in middle school. I read and re-read The Secret Garden, Robin Hood (difficult!) and Treasure Island (my brain morphed my speech to that of a pirate's for an entire month).

Then, somewhere in high school I discovered Jane Austen. I fell in love with Elinor and Marianne, Jane and Elizabeth, Emma, Fanny and of course all of the gallant, noble men that tormented there souls and eventually blessed them with a "happily ever after."
With names like Mr. Knightley and Mr. Darcy what else could you expect?

I've recently re-read Pride and Prejudice, Emma and Mansfield Park. When I open these books I feel like I'm cozying up to and old friend and it. is. delightful!

This week, a friend of mine just told me there is a new Jane Eyre movie in theaters. Having never read this book, she quickly lent me her copy, telling to read it then see the film. I have read Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights. While neither of the Bronte sisters' dark style is my favorite, I am intrigued by any book that has captured the attention of so many for almost 200 years. The little bit I have read about the Bronte sisters' difficult life makes their writing that much more fascinating.

Here's to a new (to me) book and I'm expecting, a good read!!

A Flarg

This is a word that exactly describes how I have felt since weaning my son almost a week ago. (For those who might be worried I will go into more detail about this process: don't, I won't!)

For the past two years I have either been pregnant or nursing. My body has been the life supply of not one, but two people. Sounds sacrificial, huh? Keep thinking that, I am pretty sacrificial. And humble.

No, the eventual point of this musing is the strangely awful amount of weight I have put on in 6 days since I began eating for one.

My health philosophy:

Eat right, exercise frequently, drink a lot of water. And eat chocolate.

I can't seem to remember my life or body before the beginning of my pregnancy over two years ago, but my "health philosophy" has worked great since then.

I eat a lot of chocolate.

For those of you who may not know, I'll fill you in on the eating habits of a nursing woman. Lots of people talk about preggies, it's just fun to do. But don't forget the nursies, they're pretty interesting too!

Right after Isaac as born, I researched the amount of calories I needed to consume while nursing. The results were phenomenal. 2,500 calories! The same as a marathon runner!

Now am I actually a calorie counter? No. I don't even like the scale. Its not that I have an issue with it, I just don't care about a number. See my definition of health above.

No, all this gave me the freedom to do was to continue to eat as much as I did while pregnant.

Hmmm, I should clarify how boring I am. Poor Josh, I'm actually very boring. If I wasn't married, I eat the same thing everyday of my life.

I love:
Kashi Cinnamon cereal for breakfast. With coffee.
Turkey sandwich for lunch, Sun chips, fruit and water
Peanut butter crackers around 3:30pm
Grilled chicken salad for dinner. With Balsamic Vinaigrette dressing. Red wine. Chocolate.

I didn't think I was eating too much, hey look at my daily menu! But this week, as my pants started to get tighter and tighter, (I'm talking sweatpants people. Sweatpants!!) I started paying attention to what I was actually taking in. Yikes!

Yesterday's food diary:

Breakfast: Giant bowl of cereal with whole milk, coffee w/ half & half
Lunch?: I couldn't wait till my scheduled noon lunch with my mom, I made a big ole turkey sandwich at 11. With cheese.
LUNCH: Cesar salad (sounds healthy, but with creamy dressing, it really isn't), bowl of chicken tortilla soup. All the chips.

I did OKAY till the second half of the day...

Post work-out: (also happens to be about half an hour before dinner) peanut butter crackers. A bite of the turkey intended for our dinner. Dipped in cheese dip.

Dinner: (8pm by the way) More turkey sandwiches. (Come live with me, it's really exciting) Leftover cheese dip. Lots of chips. Giant chocolate cupcake. Beer.

This might not sound so terrible to you. I didn't include the other snacks through the day so small I can't remember or count them. I just have retained the necessary-while-pregnant habit of eating small throughout the day. I think I'm in the observation stage of a life-style change. I will probably gain a couple more pounds, then decide to alter my eating habits. Check back with me in a couple of weeks.

One Down, Ninety-Nine To Go!

Happy birthday to my little man! Exactly one year ago from this minute I was holding my sweet baby for the first time. His little purple body and pointy cone head were PERFECT!

To read my blog about that dramatic saga, click here

This has been a fun week so far. The weather this weekend was beautiful! While I was working out in the yard, Josh got to take some pictures of my "little helper."








We went for a walk in Chickasaw Gardens and drooled over the ridiculously beautiful yards. The mature gardens just touch my soul.

Once again, Josh the photographer snapped some pictures of Isaac. He somehow talked me into being in them as well.








I should probably start a flicker account with all of the pictures I like to upload. Here is the last segment. I'd call it "Isaac Loves to Read," but that's wishful thinking. "Isaac Loves to Destroy My Books" is more accurate.






What a life-changing, rewarding, exhausting, thrilling, repetitive, awesome job I have!

Happy Birthday Booger!!

Yummy Flax Carrot Apple Muffins!

First of all, if the name puts you off, these are DE-LISH! I love this recipe because it is so healthy, versatile and EASY! And I'm all about easy right now!

Set your oven to 350. I took a picture for you in case your a visual person, like me!



Next, gather the ingredients.



You'll need:
(Dry Ingredients)
- 1 1/2 cup flour
- 3/4 cup flaxseed meal
- 3/4 cup oat flour (by grinding oats in blender)
- 3/4 cup brown sugar
- 2 tsp baking soda
- 1 tsp baking powder
- 2 cups pureed or shredded carrots
- 2 cups pureed or shredded apples

(Wet Ingredients)
- 3/4 cup milk
- 2 eggs
- 1 tsp vanilla

The first thing I do is puree the carrots and apples. This made the muffins very soft and moist for Isaac who isn't very good at chewing yet.



The next step is to grind the oats and flaxseed, in my case because I only had whole seeds. (I used my coffee grinder)



Add all the dry ingredients together in one bowl and the three wet ingredients together in a separate bowl.



Pour the wet mixture into the dry mixture:



Pour batter into your muffin pan and pop in the oven for 10 mins (mini muffins) or 15 mins (large muffins).

It would be much easier if I could remember to use muffin paper cups, but I never think to buy them. I also only have one muffin pan, so I make a loaf of bread with the rest of the batter.

Voila!!



Keep out a couple and freeze the rest for quick snacks later on!

Like a Fish

Going to the gas station across the street from our apartment is always interesting. There is quite the conglomeration of people getting gas, coffee, beer, candy, etc.

Today I ran over to get a coffee. Auntie AJ kept Isaac so I wouldn't spill coffee all over the stroller like I did the last time.

As I walked up to the counter to purchase my $0.89 coffee (beat that Starbucks!), I noticed the line in front of me. Up at the counter was a tall white man purchasing a case of Bud Light. Behind him, two children of Latin American decent were waiting to buy their candy and snacks. Their father looked on from about 10 feet away, occasionally saying something to them in Spanish.

As the first man finished checking out he walked by the father of the two children, held up the case of beer and yelled right into his face, "I drink like FISH!" I suppose this was because the man he was speaking to was probably deaf and stupid.

As someone who spent a year among a Spanish-speaking people, I know that when speaking to someone who may or may not speak English, it can be very helpful to leave out articles in your sentences as you yell while grinning stupidly from ear to ear.

Not.

Oh, the best part? This same loud-mouthed man passed me in the street as I walked home. He rolled down his window and yelled, "que pasa, señorita!" Ca-lass-y.

On a much lighter note:

Here are a few pictures of my funny little baby. We love bananas!





This is what happens when I leave to get coffee. I'm not sure who I feel sorry for.