tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-311326452024-03-13T03:55:45.798-05:00Bravely Obey"Be yourself. There is something you can do better than any other. Listen to the inward voice and bravely obey that." -Ralph Waldo EmersonKassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.comBlogger516125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-59280805234500779672016-12-14T09:50:00.000-06:002016-12-14T09:56:32.766-06:0030 Second Book Reviews: Wrapping up 2016!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hi guy, I just finished my Goodreads Reading Challenge goal for 2016 of reading 52 books this year! Woohoo! It's not as much as I used to read, but it's still a solid target for someone who works full time, has a kid, enjoys spending time outside of a book with actual human people I love, and for a person who can't stop watching Leah Remini's new Scientology show or is excited for the latest installment of The Bachelor in January.</div>
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So I've got a few book recommendations for you. Maybe you've got some extra time off around the holidays. Maybe you want a good way to hide from that family who is staying in your house and just won't leave after Christmas. Or maybe like me, you've always got a book, or twenty, on your nightstand and you're looking to add to the collection. Here we go, 30 second book reviews or shorter, because no one's got time for more this time of year!</div>
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<i>Finders Keepers by Stephen King</i> and <i>End of Watch by Stephen King</i> <i>- </i>I'll review these two together since they are the sequel and final installment in the Bill Hodges detective series. I loved all three of the books in the series, which starts with Mr. Mercedes. They could be read on their own but the character development and intertwining history and plot make they better together. Classic King.</div>
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<i>The Woman in Cabin 10 by Ruth Ware -</i> I like this one just fine. Nothing amazing. A thriller. Something dramatic happens. People die. If you haven't read Ruth Ware's In a Dark Dark Wood, start there instead, it's better.</div>
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<i>Thrice the Brinded Cat Hath Mew'd by Alan Bradley-</i> The latest in the Flavia deLuce mystery series. You can pick these up and start reading at any book, but they're better when you start at the beginning. Our heroine is a precocious too smart for her own good chemistry aficionado who keeps stumbling across a dead body every couple of months. This one was lovely as usual, but damn, that ending was harsh.</div>
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<i>Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur- </i>I haven't read poetry in so long. These are small powerful pieces. I could read this ten times and find something new each time.</div>
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<i>The Miniaturist by Jessie Burton- </i>This novel set in 1700's Netherlands started off strong but felt too predictable and petered out near the end. While the writing is lovely, if you love dollhouses and miniatures maybe you'd love this one, I kept expecting more.</div>
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<i>The Apartment by SL Grey- </i>I found this book terrifying and a perfect Halloween read. I'll never look at Air Bnb or VRBR rentals the same way again. I don't want to give it away, but read it during the day in your own safe home.</div>
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<i>Dark Matter by Blake Crouch- </i>One of my favorite books of the year. This sci-fi thriller will blow your mind with it's complex plotting and layered story line. Confounding, confusing and so so so good.</div>
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<i>Hillbilly Elegy by J.D. Vance-</i> I liked this memoir of growing up poor in the Appalachian culture of Kentucky and Ohio, but I also found it to be frustrating and troublesome. Well written and interesting.</div>
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<i>Tell No One by Harlan Coben- </i>Murder, intrigue, missing wives, guilty husbands, really enjoyed my first Harlan Coben. Probably won't be my last.</div>
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<i>The Nest by Cynthia D'Aprix Sweeney- </i>This was fluffy fun. Adult children fighting over a trust left to them by their father, and figuring out how to grow up, solve their own problems, and step away from the drama. Great beach or vacation read.</div>
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<i>Eligible by Curtis Sittenfeld-</i>And fun and funny modern retelling of the classic Pride and Prejudice. Now I just want to go watch the movie version with Kiera Knightly.</div>
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<i>The Book of Unknown Americans by Cristina Henriquez- </i>This was a beautifully written story of immigrants to the US who live next door and have struggled, fought and suffered to make their lives better. Heartbreaking, powerful and particularly timely given our current political climate.</div>
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<i>Before the Fall by Noah Hawley-</i>Great fast paced thriller. Just well written enough to still be fun but have more character development than similar novels. Highly recommended.</div>
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<i>Baby Doll by Hollie Overton -</i> This novel starts with a woman escaping from the man who kidnapped her years ago as she walked home from high school. Terrifying and a gut punch for any parent, I liked the characters, particularly the sisters' relationship, and the backward way the story was told.</div>
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<i>Things No One Tells Fat Girls by Jes Baker- </i>Self help and self love all in one book. Funny, wry, bluntly honest and deeply refreshing.</div>
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<i>I Am No One by Patrick Flanery- </i>A frightening examination of privacy and paranoia in our society. Beautifully written and eerie. Plus Joe went to high school with the author, and he's lovely.</div>
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<i>The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo by Amy Schumer-</i>Solid. Raunchy. Deeply personal. Sometimes funny. Sometimes inspiring. Pretty good but no Bossypants.</div>
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<i>The Accident Season by Moïra Fowley-Doyle- </i>I'm not sure how to describe this book. Supernatural, high school romance? Klutzy family has a party in an old house? Odd and enjoyable. I wish I'd read it when I was 14, I would have loved it.</div>
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<i>Into the Darkest Corner by Elizabeth Haynes - </i>If you liked the movie Sleeping with the Enemy you'll like this book.</div>
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<i>The Widow by Fiona Barton-</i>Eh. Slow. Not that thrilling but not bad. Just meh. Too many people fawning all over this one for my taste.<br />
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<i>Summer Knight by Jim Butcher -</i> Perfect for fans of Buffy the Vampire Slayer or other supernatural mystery shows. Great audio book series.<br />
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<i>Shrill by Lindy West- </i>One of my absolute favorite books of the year. Yes. A thousand times yes. Pardon my language, but fuck, this book was funny and sharp and bold and honest and inspiring.<br />
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<i>Relic by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child- </i>This was a thrilling creepy romp of a novel, some kind of mysterious monster is killing people in the Museum of Natural History, two very different detectives help solve the mystery. Kind of like <i>The DaVinci Code</i> with South American monsters.<br />
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<i>The Crow Girl by Erik Axl Sund-</i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="font-style: italic; white-space: pre;"> </span>Too dark for me. I just couldn't take the ongoing descriptions of child abuse and violence. So I got about half way through, skimmed the rest and called it quits. I liked the writing, the subject matter was just too bleak and heavily described throughout the book.<br />
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<i>The Fireman by Joe Hill- </i>I love Joe Hill. This book is dense and action packed and takes the staid post apocalyptic novel concept and breathes fresh life into it. I loved this book. Again, another one on my top list of 2016 favorites.<br />
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<i>Grave Peril by Jim Butcher- </i>Another in the series, this was the best one yet! Really loving this audiobook series, great pacing, humor, action and character development.<br />
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<i>An Untamed State by Roxanne Gay-</i>Devastating. Spectacular. Adding everything Roxanne has ever written to my library hold list immediately. She is a power house.<br />
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<i>Annihilation, Authority and Acceptance by Jeff Vandermeer-</i>What am I even reading here? I think I love it. I don't know what to think about this series. I respect it more than I liked it. It has left me thinking about it and wondering what I just read. One of the strangest reading experiences of my year.<br />
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<i>Happy Like Murders by Gordon Burn-</i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="font-style: italic; white-space: pre;"> </span>Nope. Just a big nope. I like true crime nonfiction, but the writing style was unpleasant and meandering. Repetitive, confusing and little to no insight into the murders. I read true crime to have a better understanding of how and why crimes like these can happen while no one notices. This fails in that regard. And these despicable people don't need any more of my time. Skip it.<br />
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<i>Fool Moon by Jim Butcher - </i>Again another in the "if you love Buffy you'll love this" series.<br />
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<i>The Black-Eyed Blonde by Benjamin Black-</i>A solid classic noir with a shoot em up ending and a gorgeous dame gone wrong, just like you'd expect. Read by my favorite audiobook actor, it was a dark, smoky treat.<br />
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<i>Columbine by Dave Cullen - </i>Detailed, deeply troubling, and a thorough examination of what lead up the Columbine, what happened that terrible day, and the aftermath.<br />
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<i>The Silent Girls by Eric Rickstad - </i>Eh. Fine, another thriller. More crime against women and girls. It was fine.<br />
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<i>Storm Front by Jim Butcher - </i>First in the Harry Dresden supernatural detective series. You might get hooked.<br />
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<i>Better Than Before by Gretchen Rubin-</i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="font-style: italic; white-space: pre;"> </span>I picked up some helpful tips and ideas about habits from this book, but man, it was boring. Where <i>The Power of Habit</i> was fascinating, educational and well written, this book was dull, Rubin is fairly unlikable to me, and it just felt repetitive and more of that privileged wealthy white lady memoir/self help that I find irritating.<br />
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<i>The Night Sister by Jennifer McMahon-</i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I wanted to like this one more than I did, but I suspect my reading it in dribs and drabs over a month instead of reading it in larger chunks in a few sittings made me less inclined to like it. Not bad but didn't seem to fulfill its early promise. The twists and surprises just fell flat for me. Eh. Not bad just not in love.<br />
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Ok, friends, happy holidays, and happy reading!<br />
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<br />Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-64440731391580336402016-12-12T11:36:00.001-06:002016-12-12T11:36:17.413-06:00The 2nd Anniversary of "Parents and Son Day!"<br />
Today marks the 2nd anniversary of the day that Joe and I met Xavier. It marks the instant he became our son, the second our hearts were owned by that shy smile with the dimple, and those large dark curious brown eyes framed by the longest eye lashes in the known universe. That first meeting we shook his hand and Joe could tell he wanted more. So he asked, "Do you want a hug?" and Xavier went right into our arms. We all stood together there for a minute, for the first of many hugs ahead.<br />
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This was day three of our big family adventure!</div>
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After our initial meeting, we went out to lunch with Xavier and his case worker, and the second we walked out the door he ran into some other kids he lived with and piped up with this proud big voice and said "These are my parents!" And it began. This adventure started right off from there and hasn't stopped since. These last two years have been the best and hardest of our lives. The most beautiful and emotional. The smelliest and most frustrating. I've never read so much Shel Silverstein and Joe has never argued with a small person so much over story problems. But these two years make me so excited to see what comes next for all of us, but mostly for the brave, funny, high energy, strong, wild child we have the pleasure of calling our son. Ok, in order to stop myself from crying while writing this entire post, in honor of the last two years crash course in parenting, I've got a top eleven (in honor of Xavier's age) list of things I've learned from being the proud mom to my superb, and superbly challenging, child:<br />
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1. Homework sucks, has sucked, will always suck, no matter how old you get. I still hate fractions. But it's a lovely thing to be able to say "I've finished school. This is your homework, not mine. I'm not getting graded here, you are. Let me help you, kid."<br />
2. Being outside for at least thirty minutes a day, even if it's terribly cold or hot, makes us all feel better even if/when we fight it. There are locks on front doors for this very reason. You can go five minutes without a drink or a snack. I know you can. Get back outside.<br />
3. White karate uniforms are the dumbest thing ever invented. Dumbest. I decree they should all be black and maybe made of some high tech, affordable, stain resistant fabric not yet invented. Get on that project, fabric companies!<br />
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4. Tide Stain pens are the most fantastic thing ever invented. Hands down. Better than iPhones, better than electricity. Better than Netflix.<br />
5. I have no idea what's coming next in our lives and I'm starting to be ok with that. Just starting to. Ok, not today, but maybe tomorrow or by Friday I'll be getting there. Maybe 2017?<br />
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6. If a drum is sitting there in the living room every single child who walks into your house will find it and immediately try to play it. Every single one, every single time. Even if you've repeatedly said, "Don't do it, dude." They must touch the drum.<br />
7. I've never felt more loved in my entire life. Every call for "Mom!", every request for family Wii game or movie night, every polite demand of "Mom, can you make me a smoothie?" at 7:30pm, it all makes me feel needed and that's a deeply satisfying feeling. Every tiny unsolicited "I love you" from that nearly asleep little boy, makes up for the chaos and arguments of the day to day.<br />
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8. I've never felt more scrutinized in my entire life. No one but your own child can think it's appropriate to ask in the middle of dinner, "Hey Mom, why do you have a double chin?"<br />
9. My heart is bigger and softer and stronger than I ever knew.<br />
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10. A house full of dudes means a house full of farts, shoes everywhere, and smelly socks and dirty dishes. But mostly goofy, easy fun and hugs, and so much wrestling and tickling and shouting. And we only have the one kid.<br />
11. Hangry is a fact. And while you think you're preventing it, it can still sneak up on you like some kind of masked horror movie villain. Suddenly it's there, there's no creepy music to warn you though, and no granola bar or yogurt can be digested quickly enough to avoid a minor melt down.<br />
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Thanks for being here for us during the last two years. We've needed you and relied on you, even if you were just listening or commiserating or silently cheering us on, we know it, we felt it and it has made all the difference along the way. A huge thanks to our parents, our siblings, friends and extended family, for taking Xavier for a few hours to give us a fancy date night, for loving him almost as immediately as we did, for being patient, and kind and generous in your attention and time for him, he's a deeply lucky kid to have the extended family and network of cheerleaders that he has. And so are we. Thank you, thank you, thank you. And here's to the next step in this grand adventure together.<br />
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<br />Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-2175998437152787022016-12-01T16:16:00.003-06:002016-12-01T16:31:41.195-06:00My Heart is Out There Riding His Bike Without a HelmetYou guys. You guys. You guys. I'd like to calmly tell you that I'm terrified. Not this second, not really. But I'm so scared sometimes. So scared. My heart races. My palms sweat (ok, they do that about 72% of the time anyway) but this having and loving and adoring and raising a kid business is gut wrenching, and ridiculous, and lovely, and so so terrifying. I'm scared in a way that I never knew before.<br />
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I have a tendency to borrow trouble sometimes. Neurotically thinking too far ahead. Overthinking about things out of my control. Fearing things that haven't happened yet, because I read some article or someone told me that we might want to anticipate this type of issue in the future. But how do you not worry as a parent? Biological parents worry. Adoptive parents worry. I don't consider myself a particularly anxious person. But the fear and anxiety of raising a child is something that ripples underneath my consciousness all of the time now. And it's not the kind of fear like walking through a haunted house or when a surprise spider lands on your forehead because the idiot built a web right across your front door, or a potential cancer diagnosis after a weird lump appears. It is different. It feels like a new organ in my body. Like my muscles and skin are stretched out over this thin, thrumming transparent layer of concern and vigilance that hovers right over my bones. It is always there. It is me now. Joe and I first hugged this small,brave dark haired boy while standing in a library in West Texas, and I felt this new sinew starting to grow. And the pain and joy of my expanding heart, and this new vigilant organ growing over my bones has been challenging over the last two years. <br />
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I'm not saying anything new here. I'm not saying anything revolutionary or unique. I'm just writing about being a mom. So common that I'm basically a stereotype just sitting over here. I'm saying it and typing it and sharing it because I want to. Because I feel compelled. Because I have to remind myself I'm not the only one out here scared. Worried about what the world will bring for my son. Worried about yelling too much. Or my often frayed lack of patience. Or maybe I'm not giving the right advice to my son about how to make friends or talk to girls or finding creative ways to get him to actually consume a vegetable or making sure he is wearing his helmet every single time he climbs on his bike to ride down the street to jump on a potentially deadly trampoline with his friends whose parents I've only met once. And what if they have guns in their house and I never asked? Or I'm not making him read enough or his day isn't structured enough or he doesn't feel loved enough or like he belongs or we don't help him connect to his Mexican American heritage as often as we should? Oh, stop me. Good lord. It's too much.<br />
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What if we're screwing this up? When would you even know? There is no easy way to tell if you're doing this right is there? I guess you could look at certain immediate markers like kindness to others, empathy, grades, friends, not setting pets on fire, but long term, no way. Some days I think we're ok. I think we're great actually. I think we're experts at knowing how to parent our kid. It feels right and good and happy. And some days are HARD. HARD. HARD. Our situation is different since we adopted our kid at age nine, and sometimes I feel at a disadvantage because I don't know if our issues are universal with stubborn eleven year old boys or if we're struggling harder because we've only had our boy for two years and he's been burdened with this shitty history not of his making, or all of this. It's guessing it's all of this. All of it.<br />
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We have an amazing family therapist. And by amazing, I mean this kind of warm, realistic, educated, open, experienced woman who says what we need to hear exactly how we need to hear it. She reminded us yesterday that all of this parenting is truly a crap shoot. Of course, she's classier than that and didn't call it an actual crap shoot. But pretty close.<br />
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She has watched us parent our son and talked to us about parenting for almost two years. She has seen the ups and downs, the chaos, the meltdowns, the struggles, and she said bluntly to us both, that we're doing exactly what we should be doing. We're doing it as well as if not better than almost anyone she works with. But we will still have no idea how this kid is going to turn out. But either way, his life is going to be better because he's with us. Well, fuck me. That's what I needed to hear. Read that again. Honestly, I need to hear that like every single day. I should have asked if I could record her saying it, so I could just play it on repeat when I'm feeling like drinking all of the wine in the house while simultaneously eating all of the salty and sugary things in a three mile radius. And of course I immediately started crying once she said it. In fact, I'm goddamn crying now just remembering her saying it. I felt the tension in my shoulders oozing away like a thick fog when she said it and when I repeat it to myself. She says this and my constant fear of failure evaporates enough that I can literally feel it falling away inside my gut. And then I sat with that thought for awhile.<br />
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That thought feels ultimately freeing and a little futile too. She said it to be honest and clear about how parenting, and specifically parenting the kid we are parenting really goes. Children with significant trauma from the abuse and neglect that many kids living in foster care have experienced, and the frequent mental health diagnoses these fragile, resilient, amazing kids often struggle with, tend to make their outcomes damn near impossible to determine. But then again, is anyone's outcome from child to adult all that clear? There are so many variables. A sea of variables that come into play. And for me, the only thing that makes sense as we navigate that sea is making sure that we are his life boat, his life preserver, his life vest, all of the flotation devices he might possibly need during the biggest storms and highest seas that are to come. We will ride it all out together. Not matter what.<br />
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But now I get to cut myself a little slack too. I feel released a bit. I'm parenting to the best of my ability on any given day. It varies. Sometimes there's more yelling. Sometimes there's more, "Skip the homework and veggies, and let's watch Napolean Dynamite on a school night complete with a floor picnic of pigs in a blanket and salsa and chips!" But I'm doing my damnedest to think before I speak. To hug so often it's almost irritating. To rub that kid's back until he feels smothered with my affection. To read to him every single night until he moves away to college if he so chooses, to discipline in a way that heals and gives structure and builds trust, to manage my anger and frustration when he's using his super powers to push our buttons, and push them fucking hard. I'm also trying to leave more room for myself to feel imperfect, to feel flawed, to feel like I made a mistake, and move along. Move right along. Because either way, his life is better because he's with us. He's where he belongs. He's healing. He's ours. And I think every single day, he starts to believe that more and more.<br />
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Photos courtesy of the charming Joe Sands, except that bottom one.Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-3564266069569768862016-06-06T17:18:00.000-05:002016-06-06T17:23:53.914-05:00How Do I Turn My Anger into Change?*I'm sorry, but this is not a fun post about my kid, or cooking or travel. And it's got profanity. Quite a lot. So move along if you aren't up for that today.<br />
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I'm angry and frustrated and cannot stop thinking about something today. I feel ineffectual and at a loss. My heart hurts, but mostly I'm just fucking angry. Maybe you feel the same. I spent my lunch hour today reading articles and commentary on the Brock Turner rape case and sentencing. If you don't know what I'm talking about then <a href="http://www.mercurynews.com/peninsula/ci_29970782/palo-alto-former-stanford-swimmer-gets-6-months">start here.</a> Impartial articles followed by outraged comments sections, full of angry, frustrated people who can't understand why a rapist convicted of three felony counts of sexual assault will probably only spend three months in a county jail, yep, not even a real prison. Wait, wait a minute. They all know exactly why he won't do more serious time than that: his parents are wealthy, he's a talented athlete, he's white, the girl he violated was very intoxicated, it happened on a gorgeous college campus after a raucous fraternity party, so all of this means it wasn't really as bad as real rape, you know that real stranger rape. This was just a typical college overindulgence with two horny drunk twenty somethings and some mistakes were made, on both of their parts. Plus Brock has already said that he plans to help educate kids on the dangers of excessive drinking and promiscuity. Yes, the man convicted of three counts of felony sexual assault wants to educate your children. About promiscuity.<br />
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I'm not going to talk about the rapist anymore. Instead, c<a href="https://www.buzzfeed.com/katiejmbaker/heres-the-powerful-letter-the-stanford-victim-read-to-her-ra?utm_term=.htv4NyooB#.rdwRqaYYZ">lick here, Read the victim's own powerful statement, read it twice.</a> Hell, three times. She deserves your attention. Her writing deserves your attention. In fact, stop reading whatever I've written here and go read her statement. It's brave and blunt and goddamn beautiful and powerful. Share it, post it, read it with your sons and your daughters, I'm saving it to read with mine when he's a bit older. This was rape. What happened to her was wrong and her rapist should pay a price for what he's stolen from her. Rape is a serious goddamn crime. And it should be punished as such, whether you're a creepy stranger wearing a dark ski mask in the park at night or the happy, smiling future Olympic swimmer violating an unconscious girl behind a dumpster. It makes my stomach hurt and my face clench and my blood pressure rise just thinking about it. But I'm not writing this just to rant and throw myself into this conversation.<br />
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My biggest issue here is, what to do next? It's not like this is the first terrible article you or I have read about rape or light sentences or victim blaming/shaming. This is just the most recent shitty story that highlights a problem we all should already know plenty about. And so instead of sitting here feeling inept and filled with rage, I feel like it's time I took some kind of action. Oh, I've donated to some good causes before. I work with some great organizations who help victims of sexual assault, but is that enough? It doesn't feel like it anymore. It's all well and good for me to sit here filled with righteous indignation about the injustice of this rapist only spending 3 months in jail, but what does a regular person like me do to help the situation?<br />
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How many women are raped and never report it because who would willingly want to put themselves through a trial? The shaming, the digging into the victim's personal life, the judgment and harassment, not to mention cases that have little physical evidence and unlikely to even be prosecuted. Read Missoula by Jon Krakauer if you want a clearer picture of the rape epidemic on college campuses. So yes, I can be riled up and pissed off for women who have been sexually assaulted. I can write about my indignation and wish things were different and shake my head at the people who don't believe that what happened should even be considered rape. But what can I actually do to change a goddamn thing? What can I do to stop it from happening to other women? What can I do to make sure my son understands consent in every sense of the word? What can I do? What do I do?<br />
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Because my tears of anger are fucking pointless without action. What organizations can I help that are doing great work to end our rape culture, end the shaming and blaming of women who have been victims of rape, what else can I do to help the women, and I know some men, whose lives have been forever altered by this terrible cowardly violent act? That's the part I'm struggling with now. I hate feeling helpless. Selfishly, I want to do something. Something for me, frankly, so I feel like I'm part of a solution rather than just watching it all happen and complaining to everyone who already agrees with me. 1 in 6 women has been the victim of attempted rape or rape. 1 in 6. Think about that, think about your friends, family, and think about how many of them have had to deal with the after effects of a rape or assault or some sexual violation that they did not agree to and did not want. I can think of at least 25 women I know, right off the top of my head, that have dealt with this trauma and violation. I'm in that group. So count me as one of your 1 in 6. Not raped, but violated sexually in a way that will stay with me forever, that I did not want. So I think of that number and I think, how do we reduce that? How does that shrink away? Where do I go to get started helping? Beyond talking about it, what is the next move? So now it's research time. Join me, find something you can do to help, that makes sense for you. I'm going to figure out a plan for myself that makes sense and makes me feel like I can help make a difference. Here are some ideas and some organizations that might get us started. I'll report back, because this is too serious to ignore.<br />
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MOCSA - <a href="http://mocsa.org/index.php">http://mocsa.org/index.php</a> - <span style="color: #666666; font-family: "open sans" , "helveticaneue" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">Our mission is very straightforward. MOCSA exists to improve the lives of those impacted by sexual assault and abuse, and to prevent sexual violence in our community.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "open sans" , "helveticaneue" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">RAINN - <a href="https://rainn.org/">https://rainn.org/</a> - </span></span><span style="background-color: #d6d6c1; color: #444444; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic; line-height: 17.08px;">RAINN: The nation's largest anti-sexual assault organization.</span><span style="background-color: #d6d6c1; color: #444444; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic; line-height: 17.08px;">One of “America’s 100 Best Charities" </span><br />
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COVERSA - <a href="http://www.coversa.org/">http://www.coversa.org/</a> - COVERSA (Collection of Victim Evidence Regarding Sexual Assault) is a not-for-profit 501 (c) (3) organization dedicated to providing quality, compassionate post sexual assault patient care and improving community collaboration efforts as it relates to sexual assault education and prevention.<br />
<br />Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-62045043726992593162016-04-04T15:35:00.002-05:002016-04-07T07:21:55.417-05:0030 Second Book Reviews: 2016 so far!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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With the addition of kid responsibilities and all that time consuming parenting stuff on top of work, marriage, a social life, some hobby art classes, and the occasional Netflix binge watch, I'm reading less, but I'm still reading. Granted, half of these were audio-books that I listened to on my work commute, but those still count. So here's what I've read so far in 2016, you might find a gem or two for yourself, or at least a weird new way to fold and honor your underwear:<br />
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<i>The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up</i> by Marie Kondo - I loved certain parts of this book and they've really changed the way I organize my drawers, folding socks, underwear and T-shirts differently, and keep certain household areas tidier. But honestly, I'm not unpacking my purse every night so that my purse can rest. I'm not thanking my house when I walk into my home, or god forbid, getting rid of books I own that I haven't read yet. That's just crazy talk. And no one who really cooks or has kids is going to have completely clean, empty kitchen counters. That's just nuts. But otherwise, totally useful and aspirational.<br />
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<i>Solsbury Hill</i> by Susan Wyler- I have to admit, with the addition of the kid, my energy for reading is limited, so I'm not reading as much heavy dark stuff as I used to. It's a phase I'm certain. But this was just the exact right book at the right time. Perfectly light, but well written, minimal conflict, windswept moors, likable characters and a lovely happy ending. Might have loathed it in a different mood, but got swept up in its romance. And it's got a bit of a story line based on Wuthering Heights but less silly and angsty if you ask me. You might like it. I did.<br />
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<i>Humans of New York</i> by Brandon Stanton - I adore Brandon's blog and Facebook posts. Joe and Xavier bought me this for Christmas and I've probably read it all the way through three times. Lovely photography and it lays out in each story the wide range of human thought and experience in a thoughtful and approachable way. I'll read it again next month I bet.<br />
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<i>The Husband's Secret</i> by Liane Moriarty - Fluff, pure and simple. But charming, scandalous Australian fluff, I enjoyed this audio-book and had some fun guessing at what might happen next. Read it at the beach or in your dentist's waiting room, because fluff is necessary sometimes.<br />
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<i>Between the World and Me</i> by Ta-Nehisi Coates - After a group of fluffy, fun novels to open the year, I read my first serious book and was glad I did. Poetic, disturbing, thought provoking and sad. I respect his gorgeous lyrical writing style and his challenging, repetitive reveal of the ongoing pain of being the back upon which the "white American" dream has been built, but I feel like this book must be read along with others with some kind of vision to improve the world rather than the bleak unchangeable world view Coates himself shares. Maybe this is my blurry hope as a "white" woman who has some belief in our ability to create a better more equitable world, but without some kind of hope to change it, why bother?<br />
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<span style="font-style: italic;">Parenting the Hurt Child: Helping Adoptive Families Heal and Grow </span>by by Gregory C. Keck, Regina M. Kupecky, Jim Petersen - This book is a life line for families parenting children who have had complex beginnings in foster care or adoptive settings, it's been hugely helpful for Joe and I, and I've recommended it when our families have needed more insight about our kiddo's experiences, reactions, behaviors and background. I'll read it again in a month or two, I'm sure.<br />
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<i>True Evil</i> by Greg Iles - I love a good serial killer mystery and this hit it out of the park. Multiple killers, FBI agents, plotting adulterous spouses, you've got it all. A fun, frightening mystery with one of the deadliest, creepiest killers I've read in a novel in a long time.<br />
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<i>The Kazdin Method for Parenting the Defiant Child </i>by Alan E. Kazdin - Another strong parenting guide, but this one, while useful, doesn't quite work in our situation. Though I highly recommend reading it to better understand kids and their thought processes and the flawed way many of us use discipline vs. punishment.<br />
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<i>Silver Bay</i> by Jojo Moyes- Thank god the acting in the audio-book was so good, otherwise I would have fallen asleep while driving and listening to the too long and boring first half of this book. The second half was great and while all the conflicts were tied up in an improbable bow at the end, I was so taken with the characters, setting and story that I didn't care. Push through the first half and the pay off is a joy. Plus whales and dolphins, lots of whales and dolphins. Just make sure you're caffeinated.<br />
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<i>The Golem of Hollywood</i> by Jonathan and Jesse Kellerman - Started strong and lost me about half way through. Another murder mystery, and usually I can handle and enjoy a little supernatural thrown in for good measure, but this one jumped back and forth between two different storylines so abruptly that it was jarring and unpleasant. Eh. Weird. Disjointed and the ending felt rather slapdash.<br />
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<i>The Delirium Series</i> by Lauren Oliver - Ok, here's where I admit that I'm kind of embarrassed that I even read these books, and I kind of liked them. I love youth fiction, or young adult books now and then, but these just aren't very good and yet I found myself reading them, all three of them. I liked the second one probably best of all, but the ending was a disappointment. Now I don't know whether to recommend the series or not. If you like dystopian authoritarian teen romance, this might work for you, and while I thought plot device 100+ years into the future love is now viewed as a disease, and treated with a "cure" that sounds shockingly like a lobotomy, I kept wanting more history and world setting. Why did love get diagnosed as a disease? What tragedy befell the nation to prompt this response? What's happening outside of the US? I wanted more, even just to the Hunger Games level. And Oliver never delivered. And then that ending, all loose ends. So I don't know what to tell you, I don't need the "cure" to deal with any kind of love for these books, just a mild, friendly like.<br />
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Next up, in an effort to get my own butt in gear and start exercising and eating better, I've picked up <i>Better Than Before</i> by Gretchen Rubin, the author of <i>The Happiness Project</i>, and I'm hoping to create some new healthier habits, now that I finally feel like I've come out of the fog of that first year of parenting, which for me came along with weight gain like I was actually pregnant! So I'd like to feel better, and hope some advice from Ms. Happy herself can help. Now what are you reading, friends? What should I add to my library hold list?</div>
Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-63683212818019135382016-03-28T16:51:00.000-05:002016-03-28T17:06:50.637-05:00A Snowy Yoda Easter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I think Easter is a perfectly lovely holiday. I was raised Methodist, and when forced to fill out a demographic form I will still default to checking "Methodist" for my religion, but our family are not regular church goers at this point in our lives. Some of my favorite church memories growing up involved Easter. Dressing up, getting new shoes, candy, kids in pastels running like mad in pursuit of ALL THE EGGS, but one of my favorite memories was flowering the Easter cross. </div>
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A massive wooden cross hung at the front of our church sanctuary, all dark wood in a dark brick 1980's Methodist church. We had stained glass windows, but everything seemed dark in there until Easter. On Easter, that dark serious cross turned into a massive flower cross when a large wooden frame filled with small holes was placed over it. Then before the first service, all of the Sunday school students and teachers filled each hole with a fresh flower. The narthex smelled amazing when filled with those hundreds and hundreds of lilies, tulips, carnations and roses. Once all of the holes were filled with flowers, several of the men would lift the frame, carry it into the sanctuary, and carefully hang it over the wooden cross. It was such a joyous moment, filled with the sensory power of color and fragrance as hundreds of springtime flowers filled the sanctuary, reminding us all of why we were sitting there dressed in our Easter best, filling the pews. That's the kind of Easter I enjoy now. A celebration of spring time and renewal and time spent with loved ones. So we had our own version of that this year, plus some snow.</div>
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Xavier's got the Easter bunny all figured out, so we still hid some eggs and gathered his favorite treats in a basket, but it was more mellow excitement than last year. 10 years old don't always want you to see how excited they are and a little bit of cynicism starts to sneak in. But even in the snow, he ventured out in pursuit of the eggs and had a great time, ever present Easter ring pop firmly in place. I told him that all day I could imagine what he looked like as a baby, since that ring pop looked like a pacifier shoved in his mouth. He was unamused. After the eggs were retrieved, candy consumption had dwindled, and Joe and I had consumed some massive quantities of coffee after our 5:45am wake up, we lounged around in our pjs, the weather making us less inclined to get out of the house until our family dinner plans later.</div>
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So the boys watched some TV, played a little tablet, I did some drawing, talked to Grandma Becky on the phone, until we all got a little bored and Xavier asked if we could cook something fancy for lunch. Instead of fancy lunch, we decided we'd finally try out our Star Wars cookie cutters. </div>
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I mixed up our go to <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/food-network-kitchens/3-in-1-sugar-cookies-recipe.html">3 in 1 Sugar Cookie recipe</a>, got the dough chilling in the fridge, and made my very first Royal Icing. Wow, that's so easy with a Kitchen Aid mixer. It almost felt like cheating, it took so little effort. And once the icing was all bagged up and ready, we waited for our dough to chill out and watched the classic Easter movie, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wolverine_(film)">The Wolverine</a>. Ok, maybe it's not an Easter classic, but doesn't Wolverine fit in with that whole rebirth, rejuvenation theme? I kid. </div>
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Once our dough was chilled, we rolled it out and started cutting. Now I want to be real with you here. These photos are adorable. My kid's focused attention, the fun with knives and cutters. The peeking into the oven to see if the cookies are done. Oh so cute. And I love baking. But. But baking with a ten year old, a stubborn, challenging, deeply independent 10 year old, is hard and messy and sometimes frustrating. It's not bad, but it's not easy. So much wrangling and instructions ignored, and eventually I just leaned in and let him do his own thing. Because they're just cookies, right? So he set himself up with a little jelly bean cutting station, and got to decorating, because the Star Wars cutters were "kind of boring and needed to be more fun." And who doesn't think Darth Vader looks even more menacing with red jelly bean eyes? So I'm teaching the kid some actual baking/cooking skill and he's teaching me to be less of a control freak in the kitchen, ok, in the world at large. </div>
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Cookies baked, we could get down to the fun part: the decorating! We each took a turn with the icing bags, and we came out with some gorgeous Storm Troopers, some wise green Yodas, a jelly beaned set of Darth Vaders, some abstract stars, and crunchy delicious Boba Fetts too. It really was fun. And no 10 year old can be cynical when Mom lets you pipe green frosting directly into your own mouth at the end! </div>
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So cookies baked we headed off to my dad and step-mom's house for family dinner complete with uncle and cousins and homemade biscuits, all the necessities of a happy Easter. It was a really nice day. </div>
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The thing I'm figuring out with having kids at the holidays is that expectations need to be managed. Ours and his. I need to be less controlling about the plan of the day, I need to anticipate that the non-routine weekend filled with less sleep, more sugar, more people, and more stress, will almost certainly guarantee some kind of kid melt down, and that's ok. I need to just be ok with hanging out with my family without some kind of Pinterest fantasy of what the day will hold. Sure, I wanted a lovely family portrait on Easter. We all looked nice and showered and happy, and of course my kid stuck a blueberry ring pop in his mouth moments before photo time. But who cares? This is what he looks like. This captures his personality and ours better than some pleasant holiday portrait. So I'm working on embracing that part and caring less about how straight my Storm Trooper frosting is. So Happy Easter to you! Embrace the crooked Storm Trooper in all of us!</div>
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<br />Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-31104577208708337972016-03-07T15:43:00.001-06:002016-03-09T14:55:40.480-06:0015 Months InI've been a mom for a total of about fifteen months now. It simultaneously feels like fifteen years and fifteen minutes. I love it. I love it every single day. Oh, there are moments, almost every single day, where I think: "well, this sucks" or "why did I pick this battle?" or "How are my bones actually tired?" or "Did I really just say 'asshole' in front of my kid again? Yep. I did." or "Really, more laundry?" or "I'm wiping pee off the floor again." or "What in the hell are we having for dinner?" or "I really, really wish I could sit here and read my own book instead of reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid:The Long Haul." or "Is it bedtime yet? What? It's only 7??" or "Is it really that bad if he had a bag of Doritos for breakfast once this week? Ok, twice? Nah." And I think of all of the other parents out there doing their own version of what Joe and I are doing, and I feel like we're probably in some pretty excellent company.<br />
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I went back recently and read some writing I had done just a couple of months after Xavier joined our family, and man, I've gained some confidence in myself as a mom since then. I want to hug that early 2015 version of myself and tell her to just hang on. It was somehow both natural and shocking to suddenly love and care for this kid. And I was thrown for a total loop, for a few months. My identity and confidence were tossed around. My fear and anxiety hit new impressive levels. I wanted to cry, and then throw up, and then hug everyone in a twenty foot vicinity, all within just a few minutes time, and then shout to the roof tops about how wonderful and terrifying it all was. It was like a kid tsunami had hit my shores. I felt displaced and raw and new and scared and ready for it, all at once.<br />
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And then we settled in. We did. Just being together. Time. The beautiful simple sedimentary layers of bedtime stories, and long hugs, tickling on the couch, and teeth brushing and road trips, and school drop offs and inside jokes, and lunch boxes packed, and dancing around the living room, and tablet negotiations, and all those layers made us into a family. We settled in. Throw in some helpful professionals, and excellent family support, and here we are, figuring it all out just fine. I don't mean to gloss over the hard parts. They exist. They probably exist in all families, and they have a particular challenge when you add older kids to a family, but I think we're all doing really well, like shockingly "you've earned a gold star" well, especially Xavier. Most importantly Xavier. When people give me a compliment about it, I'm starting to actually be able to just say "Thanks!" and not laugh and give fifteen examples of how I've screwed up as recently as this morning. That's progress, right?<br />
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But we've tapped into our resources too. We see a family therapist. She is the earth mother, funny, wise, expert realist that we need. I've seen my own therapist, who can look at my face and somehow know exactly what I'm about to say, she is a gold star human too. And we've had great teachers and doctors, and friends and neighbors, and lots and lots of family who love Xavier and want to spend time with him one on one, so Joe and I can have the chance to "drink wine and kiss and watch R rated movies" at least once or twice a month too. (Xavier's description of what date night must be like without him.) And suddenly there is no doubt we are a family, and that Mom title has started to feel like mine.<br />
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Over these fast and frenzied fifteen months I've realized, good lord, this is the best title. Being a mom is a blast. Every day is more fun in some ways than my days were before. Not the kind of ways like I had before with free, open, luxurious stretches of time, but it has highlighted and brought more to my life than I even knew to want. So much. So much laughter in our house and car and everywhere, every single day. And yes, so much pain and joy and drama. Usually that brief, fleeting drama, Jesus, ten year old kids are dramatic, or at least ours is. But the emotions, good and bad, are just thrilling. Not adrenaline pumping like a good chase scene in a movie or a first kiss, but thrilling like seeing a whale burst out of the ocean where there was only flat gray water seconds before, or thrilling like catching a glimpse of leaves that have gone from green to fire engine red over a weekend. You know these things are going to happen, they just do, but they still thrill. To watch my child develop new skills or get excited about something new, or to get stronger, taller, more stable. It's thrilling to watch my kid get more and more comfortable with our families. To watch him develop relationships, to come out of his shell, to finally get our sarcasm (not appreciate it, certainly, but get it and mimic it disturbingly well), to open up, to start to settle in somewhere, to realize he's never leaving, ever, ever. He's taller and stronger, and he really needs some new pants. There's more of him there, and that is the best feeling. Because we helped make sure that would happen. We're all settling into our roles. And my cheery brand of positive realism has found its best role. I forget so much of the negative stuff so fast, and that works here. It works well. <br />
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It took awhile for it not to feel like I was pretending to be a mom. Like someone wasn't going to pull me aside and ask me trivia questions about my child to prove I was his mom. "No, seriously, I promise, he's mine!" I get brief flashes of that feeling sometimes when people I don't know well ask me if I have kids. "Oh, I do, I really do have kids", but I still have this odd feeling when I answer, because the full story is so different from your typical family. And yet it's really not. It's so so different and so so the same. Just as all families are the same and different.<br />
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Anyway, since things feel a bit more settled, I feel ready to start writing more again. I'm back! I have no shame about writing mostly about kid stuff, I'm trying to compile some kind of history of our little not-typical family, so I've been jotting down notes and impressions and glimpses of my feelings/our experiences into a word document over the last months, saving emails and funny kid Facebook posts, so I don't lose it all in the chaos of the day to day. There's so much I want to write about and keep and remember about these first years and all the next years too. So I'm writing some, some for just us and some to share. Because families need their stories, especially new families. We need our stories. Kids need to know who they are and where they've come from, and Xavier has a nine year history that we weren't a part of, but that we can help him learn to understand. He also deserves to get to hear about how our new family came together and to let us reflect back to him the ways we've seen him grow and change. The silly dances and songs he makes up, the friends he has now, the things he loves to do, the snuggles with the dog, he has parents to watch and remember and tell him how much he's changed over the ten years we get to have him, before he heads off on his own. Ok, eight years or so before he heads off on his own. But ten years just scares me less. So let's stick with ten. And if I write about our family and share it here with friends and family, I feel like it helps fill in that gap of nine years when we didn't have him in our lives yet, we've got all of those years to make up for when uncles and aunts and grandparents and cousins would have bonded and connected with him and us as a family, so if I can help our loved ones feel like they know him better here, then it feels like that nine year gap gets a little smaller. All that is to say that I'm planning to write a little more. About parenting, but also back to our trips and lives and cooking and things that amuse me, and also as a way to force Joe to cough up his photos, so I can put them to good use. It's a little like coming out of a new parenting fog, ready to join the world fully again. So here we are, we're a family. I'm a mom, and a bunch of other things too obviously, and I feel like I'm fully back again. <br />
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<br />Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-27505289170796037892015-09-11T12:19:00.001-05:002015-09-11T16:33:25.088-05:00Take a Trip Into My Brain This Very MinuteThings that are currently taking up too much of my mental energy with wasted worrying:<br />
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am i ever going to catch up at work<br />
my child's lack of vegetable consumption<br />
whether the elastic in this expensive bra will last if I wash it in the washing machine instead of by hand<br />
how much i can write about my child and this parenting experience without revealing too much, but this gig is hard and hilarious and i want to share without hurting the kid<br />
my weight and my seeming inability to actually do anything about it except stress and my top button is digging into my belly button today and i ate the discarded toppings from the kid's pizza last night followed by seven Cheezits he spilled on the ottoman<br />
my dog needs his teeth brushed<br />
is there an actual Harvard Review or Lifehacker article that would make me more efficient with time management at work or would that just waste more of my time and i'd procrastinate reading it anyway<br />
will i actually pass my huge expensive job enhancing CFRE test in two weeks<br />
why do i feel guilty about taking a date night with my husband<br />
my sandal is broken but i love it, so now do i repair or toss it<br />
the tiny elderly lady who normally does any alterations for me isn't answering her phone. did she retire? is she in the hospital? did she die? will i ever know?<br />
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is there such a thing as a balanced life<br />
when will i ever have free time again<br />
why can't i just enjoy how clingy and cuddly my child is right now instead of feeling smothered<br />
will my patience level ever increase<br />
does anyone ever feel good at parenting, or feel like they're good at it for more than fifteen minutes at a time<br />
should we get the kid a math tutor<br />
why can't i manage to meal plan and prep for the week on Sunday afternoons<br />
dying alone in a urine smelling nursing home<br />
dying alone from sheer frustration while wiping up my ten year old's urine again<br />
dying alone from the smelly force of my ten year old's well aimed farts<br />
moving, will we? when? can we afford to? what about schools? what about kansas vs missouri? what about how the kid will transition? he has requested a bigger backyard and no trains too close and an upstairs, and what about how poorly funded our public schools are and the lack of diversity in other districts?<br />
Man, I feel better already.<br />
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So what's running through your head today?<br />
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<br />Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-32272128365700365012015-02-18T14:19:00.002-06:002015-02-19T09:37:09.036-06:00Nine Monumental Little Weeks We've known and loved Xavier for just about nine weeks now.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX_UbeZP6CghE7TIqrrJ37mYp19kKdz9Gyq_pGmK2fQkaVOy70DLpQlnuZI6kHAG3-AAgzneMlXGG7WNWeU5z0IzdbkZ4lksCJqtxrLbKeN1txoC4D-akPWeJM1PziaXmPOm1P/s1600/FullSizeRender+(5).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX_UbeZP6CghE7TIqrrJ37mYp19kKdz9Gyq_pGmK2fQkaVOy70DLpQlnuZI6kHAG3-AAgzneMlXGG7WNWeU5z0IzdbkZ4lksCJqtxrLbKeN1txoC4D-akPWeJM1PziaXmPOm1P/s1600/FullSizeRender+(5).jpg" height="320" width="316" /></a></div>
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Our lives are now filled with karate classes, PTA meetings, homework, bedtime routines, play dates, screen time negotiations, constant reminders to stop laying your chin on the bowl when you eat your cereal, keeping track of glasses and Spider-man socks and small gloves, reminders to lift the toilet seat and stop wiping your toothpaste face on your sleeve again, hugs, bedtime prayers, reading out loud every night, movie nights snuggled on the couch with blankets and popcorn and a tiny body tucked up into my side, Transformer tooth brushes, all the Legos and Super Heroes that can be packed into a small ranch house, and all of the questions about the world and potential disasters and whether people on TV are alive or dead right now, and what's the difference between acting and just real life, and why are there different states and countries, and what would happen if and and and and....<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/15704791264" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="This kid is a carnivore. Polished off a whole half slab of ribs by himself. I think we have a KC BBQ lover on our hands. #latergram by Kassie Sands, on Flickr"><img alt="This kid is a carnivore. Polished off a whole half slab of ribs by himself. I think we have a KC BBQ lover on our hands. #latergram" height="320" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8682/15704791264_8f3dfc8aa9.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Xavier can be confounding and lovable and needy and handsome and sweet and challenging and ours, he is so totally ours.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/16281724289" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Red Bridge Skating Party!! Watching my two favorite guys, they are in their element. by Kassie Sands, on Flickr"><img alt="Red Bridge Skating Party!! Watching my two favorite guys, they are in their element." height="320" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8624/16281724289_8cf19225bd.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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In just nine weeks he's visited 7 states, after having spent his first nine years in just Texas. And he seems to like traveling and seeing new places, at least from the comfort of the car with a fully charged tablet close at hand, and the candy of his choice at the next gas station stop.<br />
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He is constantly asking questions. At least when he's awake.<br />
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He is growing taller and more solid everyday, and the idea that when we look into his little face it will one day be 17 years old and covered in stubble still seems impossible, and yet it will happen so so soon I can hardly catch my breath. He can live at home and go to college still, right?<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/15670956414" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="If I smile will you leave me alone so I can play Subway Surfers? by Kassie Sands, on Flickr"><img alt="If I smile will you leave me alone so I can play Subway Surfers?" height="320" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7470/15670956414_1a87f3150e.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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He has embraced being a part of our family so quickly. Quicker than we dreamed was possible. He is already Xavier Sands on every homework assignment. He loves being our son, at least until it's time to bring in groceries. Then he loses all interest in being in this family. "Why does this family make me help all the time? Why do I always have to carry stuff?"<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/16336756257" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="He told me he didn't like this one because he looked too serious. I said it went well with the fancy hat and tie. by Kassie Sands, on Flickr"><img alt="He told me he didn't like this one because he looked too serious. I said it went well with the fancy hat and tie." height="320" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7392/16336756257_68e97ba584.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Simple things, like attending X's Valentine's school party, are so fun. Introducing ourselves as X's parents, watching his face light up when we walk in the room, leading games for all the kids, helping him address his cards to his friends. We are constantly amazed by how little things make us feel so happy. Mundane is still there, but we're still in that early stage where all of the new parenting things feel fresh and sweet. Except homework, homework sucks and poor Joe gets the brunt of it so far.<br />
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Sometimes we are the parents who love him and hug him and tickle him and let him watch his own Netflix and his absolute favorite people, and sometimes we are the most terrible, mean parents in the entire world. Both of these emotions could occur in a five minute time span.<br />
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He loved playing with his cousins in Madison this last weekend and wanted to know if they would be his cousins even when he had his own wife and kids. I teared up when I got to say "yes, honey, forever" and explained that even when he got married and had a spouse and kids of his own, they will always be cousins. Always.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/16355920400" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="X and J, battling, Star Wars style. by Kassie Sands, on Flickr"><img alt="X and J, battling, Star Wars style." height="320" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8626/16355920400_d2ffc9f9de.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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This weekend was a wonderful chance for Joe's immediate family to all be together for the first time with X. We all celebrated Joe's 40th birthday, and Xavier was surrounded by his grandparents, uncles and aunt and cousins. We loved hearing X and his cousins laugh and run through the house, or watch him sharing a gummy worm with his little cousin Tierney, without being prompted. Just a gummy worm, but it shows who he is inside.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/16553164035" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="This guy is loving the Fantastic Mr. Fox. So so glad. Cuss Yeah! by Kassie Sands, on Flickr"><img alt="This guy is loving the Fantastic Mr. Fox. So so glad. Cuss Yeah!" height="320" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8571/16553164035_1c47850706.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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He was tired on Monday night after a long weekend and five hours in the car. His veneer of good behavior started to slip, and he began to turn into the little wild mongoose that all small children seem to be underneath when they get tired. Of course he started to melt down at the restaurant we stopped at for dinner. Lesson learned. Drive thru only at the end of a trip, unless you want to lose your cool at a dessert buffet when your child burps in your face five times in quick succession and refuses to say excuse me or sorry. Drive thru was invented for this very reason, people. Though the truck drivers seemed very entertained by our argument next to the homemade cherry cobbler.<br />
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Watching him play with his cousins' kitten or any animal makes us feel confident he has a sweet, kind, soft heart under the sass. And no, kid, we aren't getting a kitten anytime soon.<br />
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This is all easier and harder than we ever imagined. Loving him, easiest thing we've ever done. Not yelling, totally the hardest. He missed the bus this morning because he simply refused to walk out to the stop when I asked him to. Instead he wanted to have a little conversation. He just sat down in his coat and back pack and started asking me a bunch of silly questions. I keep forgetting that I'm learning how to do this parenting thing too, and I keep beating myself up when things don't go well. But this stuff is hard. This parenting. And I need to always give us more lead time when we're going back to school after a long break. He stalls. And I need to build more time in so the stall doesn't leave me yelling and furious, and leave him standing there wide eyed while I yell. Since I don't yell often I think he realized it was a serious issue. He quickly wanted to know how mad my boss was going to be when I was late to work after dropping him off. "Will you be in trouble or trouble trouble?" So hopefully that won't happen again any time soon. Plus lesson learned, build in more time to wait at the school bus stop. Also some mild yelling won't break him, but it does make me feel terrible. I'm pretty sure he'd forgotten after three minutes.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/16462800901" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Watching a documentary about honey badgers and reading comic books to his Mr. Badger. by Kassie Sands, on Flickr"><img alt="Watching a documentary about honey badgers and reading comic books to his Mr. Badger." height="320" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7333/16462800901_5d7066cf6f.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I was beating myself up for yelling at Xavier this morning and was telling one of my best friends, and fellow mom, about the situation and she nailed what some of being a parent has felt like for us so far. "Being a parent is always painted as something super rewarding and fun and wonderful. And it's all of those things. But it's also full of unwilling compromises, disagreements, constant pull and take, gritty work, sighs and tongue biting." I would add tiny wins, lots of serious side eye, and some mild alcohol consumption when needed, For us parents, not for Xavier.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/16148176497" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Evening piggy back ride. I love these two dudes so much it makes my stomach hurt. #latergram by Kassie Sands, on Flickr"><img alt="Evening piggy back ride. I love these two dudes so much it makes my stomach hurt. #latergram" height="320" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7507/16148176497_727dc6cdc5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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We have zero regrets about adopting Xavier. None. Our lives, and Xavier's, were completely turned upside down just nine weeks ago. Completely. And it's been the very best thing we've every chosen to do. It's amazing how quickly we all are adapting. It's not perfect. Nothing and no one is. But it's starting to feel natural and easier, at least a little bit every week. Somehow we have so little memory of the time before we had him. Oh, we remember the freedom and the weekends to ourselves and we loved those years, but the day to day, it seems like it's always been like this, or at least it was always supposed to be like this.<br />
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I miss some of our old freedom and the time we had for each other and ourselves, but I wouldn't trade that for the heart swell I feel when checking on my child while he sleeps, or the way his tight spontaneous hugs seem to force tears to my eyes, or the quiet times reading together when I kiss the top of his head and smell his slightly coconut scented black hair, or the tickle fights or the times when we see his dimple pop out from his wide natural smile. It's not worth the trade. Nothing would be.<br />
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<a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/15902647343" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title=""Sophisticated Stripes": #stylemefeb Just being all fancy, sitting here on the couch, barefoot, watching my kid play Minecraft. I live for these quiet moments. by Kassie Sands, on Flickr"><img alt=""Sophisticated Stripes": #stylemefeb Just being all fancy, sitting here on the couch, barefoot, watching my kid play Minecraft. I live for these quiet moments." height="320" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8610/15902647343_8b74ca3cf7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I think it's so easy to get swept up in the little stuff, the basic needs of all of our every days, that until I have a quiet moment, like in the car on the drive home from Madison, I forget the momentousness of what we've done. For Xavier, for us, for our families. I forget because it's a huge, important thing we've done bringing this little boy into our family. And it's also the easiest most natural thing, because people become parents every single day. And so have we. In many many ways, we are not different. And in some important ones, we are very different. And I'm trying my best to stop and remind myself that we are doing our best, and so is Xavier, and that's all anyone can expect of us.Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-18024883653921244562015-01-07T17:01:00.001-06:002015-01-07T17:13:06.074-06:00Identity Crisis, Scratch that, I Mean Epic ChangeI'm having an identity crisis. Except crisis sounds so dramatic. And my crisis is much more about laundry, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and buying school supplies, and getting big hugs from small arms when I leave in the morning. And it's not a crisis. It's just an enormous shift in every single thing I do, think and feel. See? No crisis. Just change. Because of this little face.<br />
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I'm a mom now. And it feels weird still to type that and say it out loud. And it also feels totally normal. And I can't quite wrap my head around all of it yet. I'm sure I'll get there. It's only been a little over three weeks since we met Xavier and he joined our family. But I'm still figuring out who I am now. I haven't had this kind of change in my life in years. Maybe never. Maybe there isn't a bigger change than becoming someone's parent, especially the instant parent of a nine year old. Job changes are big, moving, deaths, illness. All big. Marriage is a huge change. I became Joe's wife, but that didn't feel drastically different than living together or dating. Just more fun, more permanent, more stable, more arguments about dirty dishes, and new words to get used to. Saying "my husband" was so fun those first years, and it's still one of my favorite phrases. But the mom role, it feels different. Bigger. Earthquake level big. I'm responsible for this other small person, completely.<br />
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And I feel different. I'm unsure about myself a bit more than I used to be. I'm generally a pretty confident person. I adore my husband. I thoroughly loved our independent life before kids. I like my work so much and so much of my identity comes from the job I go to everyday. I love my hobbies and passions. But it feels different now. And I cannot say exactly what it is. I can't find the right words to describe it, it just is different. It's not just the second guessing myself about whether I'm parenting Xavier well, I'm doing my very best and I'm still constantly second guessing, but it's something deeper in my core than that.<br />
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I feel unsettled. I feel unmoored a bit. And yet it's not a bad feeling, just antsy. I feel floaty and outside of myself more often now. Looking in and wondering about how different my life and my priorities, and my sense of myself as a woman have all been adjusted so abruptly. And I think about our son all the time. And I worry more. I'm scared more. So much more. I feel judged more and nervous about other people's opinions more. My heart feels exposed. And bigger. Swelled up with pride and worry and need. There's so much more now.<br />
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And my emotions are right on the surface all of the time when I think about him, especially when I'm not with him. But when I'm with him, somehow I feel totally grounded. Totally certain this is where I'm supposed to be, and who I'm supposed to be taking care of every day. He has no idea, but while he's in taking his evening shower, I love turning off his overhead bedroom light, turning on the paper star night light that hangs over his bed, layering the blankets he likes to sleep under, turning down the sheets, and waiting to tuck him into this safe, warm, cozy space when he comes barreling out of the bathroom, still wet, still wild, and totally not sleepy yet. I like folding his little jeans and putting away his laundry. I love figuring out what music he likes and throwing it onto our Xavier playlist on Spotify. I love helping him figure out what he wants for dinner or lunch, because we don't know all the foods he likes yet. Or just snuggling on the couch when our movie night choice gets a little scary. Or watching Xavier and his dad work on Legos for an hour. This all feels right to me. It doesn't feel weird at all. I want to hug and kiss this boy all day long, or at least in the five minute increments he'll allow in the early morning and late at night.<br />
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But when I think about how epic the change is to our lives or when I'm back to doing the normal work things or social things or just life things I've always done, they don't feel the same. I'm off kilter. I'm sure that feeling will slowly go away, but it will never feel like it did before. I'll never be the same person I was before. I grieve that a little.<br />
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</tbody></table>I guess this makes me one of those "mommy bloggers" now. But that term can be derisive and demeaning so often, and this is important to me. I need an outlet to write and talk about the change, because it makes me feel less alone in it. Because it's weird, isn't it? Becoming a parent? It's the strangest feeling. The best feeling, and one of those experiences that you can't describe to someone else who isn't a parent yet. I used to feel slightly condescended to when my very kind and wonderful friends talked about their own experiences of becoming parents. They didn't intend to be condescending, they were just stating the facts. Phrases like "you'll understand when you have kids" can sound flippant and patronizing. But damn it, if it isn't true. I'll try my best to not be flippant or patronizing to my friends who don't have kids, just as mine did to me. Because a life with kids or a life without kids, one isn't a superior choice or a better life over the other. Both ways can be amazing and beautiful and hard and exciting if you do it right. So I'll get there. I'm figuring it out as we go. And goodness, if being a mom isn't the best trip I've ever signed up for.Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-43504891906735766022014-12-26T22:17:00.001-06:002014-12-30T10:57:05.403-06:00Things I've learned after being a mom for two whole weeks:<div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">My nine year old son is adorable and reserved, and some days just watching him sleep is enough to make me cry.</span></div>
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We need more cups with lids. </div>
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I feel like I've known him forever and he absolutely belongs in our family.</div>
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And then I'll suddenly be reminded of how much of his day to day life up until now we know very little about. We know the big stuff, but the little stuff we don't. Like what movies has he seen? What was his favorite toy as a toddler?</div>
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Not all kids see the beauty in taking apart Legos after they've already been put together.</div>
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He is an expert eye roller, button pusher, negotiator and video game trash talker. Like most nine year olds.</div>
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He and our Scottie dog Mac were instant best friends.</div>
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He has such a generous and kind heart, plus the sass and blatant disregard for what we are asking him to do at any given moment.</div>
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I've colored and drawn more in the last few days than in years. I've loved it as much as he has.</div>
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My level of exhaustion is something I only vaguely remember from pulling a couple of all nighters in college, only minus the three hour nap the next day, and make that several all nighters in a row. And he's not even a newborn.</div>
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Boys burp and fart with abandon and find each of these activities as funny as I find David Sedaris.</div>
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The constant alertness and wariness and watching him and making sure he's safe and clean and being smart and not eating his egg drop soup like an angry wombat is something that you just don't completely get until you're a parent. You think you do, you don't.</div>
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Christmas is so much louder, earlier, gigglier, and more magical than before. Seeing my kid's face light up talking about Santa was the best. But I did miss a little napping and reading this year.</div>
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Sharing our kid with our extended family has been such a joy. Watching Xavier click with his uncles and cousins and hug his three grandmas, high five his two grandpas, it made me smile wide every time. Ok, I cried some too. I'm a wuss.</div>
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The love I have for him is intense and overwhelming sometimes, and then it's often immediately followed by simmering frustration or unbridled bafflement. But the love itself never goes anywhere. It's there, helping you tamp down the desire to scream "Stop being such an asshole!" at your long eyelashed, dimpled kiddo smiling with mischievous glee.</div>
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I want so much for him in his life. And thinking farther ahead than just a few weeks or months is more than I can handle right now.</div>
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Watching my husband be a dad is the best. He's firm and gentle and so warm with him. It makes me love him more than I can say. And believe me, I already had a serious thing for the guy.</div>
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Our family is so new. So fragile, and yet I think it is built with three stubborn, strong, bright, independent, and most of all, loving people. </div>
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And this kid is the toughest, most amazing little person. I feel like our biggest job as parents is going to be helping him shed the behaviors that have been important to his survival in the past, but will get in the way of his happy future. And I think the three of us can do it together. With the loving support and encouragement of our family and friends. I feel like we're all going to need pretty sturdy helmets for the ride ahead. But what an exciting long ride it's going to be! I'm so glad he's ours. And I'm so proud to be Xavier's mom.</div>
Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-17183895424194095372014-11-07T16:17:00.002-06:002014-11-07T16:26:50.716-06:00Escaping the WallflowerGetting dressed in the morning had devolved into five minutes of standing there and staring at it all. All the sweaters and skirts and shoes and pants. Just hanging there..... taunting me. Then I'd try on four different combinations and end up wearing one of the six or seven default outfits that I end up wearing repeatedly. Over and over again.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/15687216032" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="@hilaryrushford Pumpkin & Spice with a little husband photo bomb. #StyleMeNovember by Kassie Sands, on Flickr"><img alt="@hilaryrushford Pumpkin & Spice with a little husband photo bomb. #StyleMeNovember" height="400" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3944/15687216032_ddb18f3483.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">11-1: Pumpkin and Spice, with husband photo bomb</td></tr>
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I'd gotten tired of everything in my closet. I'd gotten tired of thinking that I'd lose some weight before I bought anything new. Or I'd get a new wardrobe when I lost this magical weight that I'm always thinking of losing. I'd suddenly start dressing in a newer, bolder, riskier way. That feeling got old. I like how I dress just fine most of the time. I don't need a What Not to Wear intervention. It's not bad. But it's not outstanding. It's not risky and only occasionally bold. Because I have some arbitrary rules in my head about what a plus size woman can and should wear. <br />
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The goal in plus size fashion seems to be anything that makes us disappear into the sidelines. Key words being "slimming" "dark" "figure flattering" "matronly". But I don't live a life on the sidelines. I'm not a wall flower. I'm not old. I'm not shy. I'm not hiding my body. My body is fine. It may not be my ideal, but it's strong and serves me well and it's proportional. I'm not a model. I'm not an actress. I'm a real live human woman and I want getting dressed in the morning to be more fun. Without having to be a size 6 and without feeling guilty or bad about myself because I'm not a size 6. And sure, I want to wear things that are flattering, but that doesn't mean everything needs to be navy or black or a baggy tunic. And plus size fashion has gotten a lot better in the last several years. It's my rules that need freshening up.<br />
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Through Instagram a few weeks ago, I happened to stumble upon some great webinars on the <a href="http://deanstreetsociety.com/">Dean Street Society</a> website presented by Hilary Rushford. She's a former Broadway musical actress turned stylist, fashion guru, and inspirational entrepreneurial coach. She's a delight. Energetic, funny, bold, and very down to earth. So I watched the entire series, <a href="http://styleandstyleability.com/">3 Steps to Simplified Style.</a> I watched a couple of them a couple of times. I took notes. I wrote down everything I wore in the month of October, just as Hilary recommended. And it was a fashion revolution for me!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/15670591766" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="I felt so snazzy in my blazer it was almost like I got out of bed early enough for church. by Kassie Sands, on Flickr"><img alt="I felt so snazzy in my blazer it was almost like I got out of bed early enough for church." height="400" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3947/15670591766_45e6ec8982.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">11-2: Blazering a Trail for Sunday</td></tr>
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I know that sounds silly. I have a nagging, bitchy voice in my head that says it's shallow to worry about clothes and how you look. But I think that voice is wrong. Because I've felt more powerful, more attractive, sexier, and bolder in the last month than I have in awhile. Getting dressed is fun again. The 3 Steps changed the way I look at my closet, myself and my need to buy anything new. I'm shopping from my own closet, and it's wonderful. So this month I'm following along with the Style Me November daily prompts from Dean Street, one prompt per day to help spark your creativity and mix up your wardrobe, motivating you to try new things. Get out of your rut.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/15698962921" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="It's silly. But mixing patterns makes me nervous. So here we go. #sailorstripes and floral for #stylemenovember by Kassie Sands, on Flickr"><img alt="It's silly. But mixing patterns makes me nervous. So here we go. #sailorstripes and floral for #stylemenovember" height="400" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7471/15698962921_caa8ce0350.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">11-3: Sailor Stripes, otherwise known as mixing patterns makes me nervous</td></tr>
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And the first 7 days have been a kick so far. Posting photos to Instagram, and joining the community of other women interested in the merry side of getting dressed each day. I've been inspired. I've taken risks. I've had a blast. And I think everyone needs a little more fun in their mornings. So these are my first seven outfits from Style Me November. I'll probably wear most of them again. Some I love more than others, but I can't wait to see what I'll end up pulling together next week. So join me over on Instagram or just in your own closet, and add some joy back into getting dressed. No rules, just creative prompts and that pleasurable little shiver you get when you know you look great! And that feeling is never shallow. It's powerful.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/15089480364" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="I'm calling this look Flamboyant Han Solo. #stylemenovember #whitenight by Kassie Sands, on Flickr"><img alt="I'm calling this look Flamboyant Han Solo. #stylemenovember #whitenight" height="400" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7546/15089480364_69620c5a7d.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">11-4: White Night- I call this one Flamboyant Han Solo</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/15531684068" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Let's call this one Elsa Gets An Office Job. #stylemenovember #onceuponanecklace #letitgo by Kassie Sands, on Flickr"><img alt="Let's call this one Elsa Gets An Office Job. #stylemenovember #onceuponanecklace #letitgo" height="400" src="https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3940/15531684068_2c413348b3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">11-5: Once Upon a Necklace, or Elsa Gets an Office Job</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/15539412097" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="I'm calling today's look: Dorothy, Vice President of Oz. #stylemenovember #menswearmaiden by Kassie Sands, on Flickr"><img alt="I'm calling today's look: Dorothy, Vice President of Oz. #stylemenovember #menswearmaiden" height="400" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7517/15539412097_052b1b403d.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">11-6: Menswear Maiden, or Dorothy, Vice President of OZ</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/15732039675" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Today's theme is a steal on sale. Free counts as a steal, right? This white sweater courtesy of my generous shopaholic friend Tara! Thank god we're the same size! She buys, gets bored, and gives it to me. #stylemenovember by Kassie Sands, on Flickr"><img alt="Today's theme is a steal on sale. Free counts as a steal, right? This white sweater courtesy of my generous shopaholic friend Tara! Thank god we're the same size! She buys, gets bored, and gives it to me. #stylemenovember" height="400" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7575/15732039675_1756c1a19c.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">11-7: A Steal on Sale, or free stuff from Tara is the best.</td></tr>
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Here are the prompts if you want to join us!</div>
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Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-34185831743712761482014-10-16T08:20:00.003-05:002014-10-16T11:08:09.783-05:00We're Back in the World Series, Baby!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The last time the Kansas City Royals made it to the World Series I was ten years old. I was lucky enough to attend Game 7 in 1985 and I'll never forget it. But I'm thirty nine now. So it's been awhile. And while I'm not pretending to be a rabid baseball, or even sports fan, I'm a Royals fan by birth. As the stakes kept increasing with each game this year, all I could think of was how excited and giddy my grandfather would have been to watch his boys in blue finally succeed. I'm actually really excited too. I wrote this post a few years ago for <a href="http://www.blogher.com/my-royal-childhood?wrap=blogher-topics/sports&crumb=174">a Blogher article</a> and it just seems completely perfect to re-post again today, the day after our Royals, my home town team, clinched their spot in the World Series after a four game sweep. My town is covered in joyous blue today, (even the celebratory donuts I brought to work are blue!) and I know my grandparents would have been the loudest, most jubilant fans if they were here to enjoy it! So this one's for you, Grandma and Pa-Dad!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma rocking the cat eye sunglasses at the Royals game in the 1970's.</td></tr>
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I'm not a fan of the sports. I never have been. I don't know why exactly. Maybe it was my first memory of organized sports, playing on a soccer team as a seven or eight year old. I remember we lost every single game. As a team we got one goal, maybe two, and I remember standing around a lot wearing smelly shin guards and short shorts. One season and this book worm was done. Or maybe it was attending one too many soccer or baseball or football games for my younger brother, the little jock.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhki3PwC24oYQb1qEqKUTdy-M5q21lCaOLmjDj3YeaeQ2TLDBCQScNozxRFza1x13gT88D3TyZQf4dTTxPMZYMvjWiVRszE24-m_eR4X3cQv_sdxQO8hCfIA279NWyI0g6avInS/s1600/Kassie0083_edited-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhki3PwC24oYQb1qEqKUTdy-M5q21lCaOLmjDj3YeaeQ2TLDBCQScNozxRFza1x13gT88D3TyZQf4dTTxPMZYMvjWiVRszE24-m_eR4X3cQv_sdxQO8hCfIA279NWyI0g6avInS/s320/Kassie0083_edited-1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Those shorts came up to my armpits.</td></tr>
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This post was going to be entirely about how I'm not a sports fan, I don't watch, I have a reputation for reading Vanity Fair back issues while everyone else curses at the TV as the Chiefs inevitably choke. But then I realized something. I have spent most of my life in Kansas City and our town is lucky enough to have both a major league baseball team and an NFL team. I didn't attend my first Chiefs game until just a couple of years ago, but I pretty much grew up at Royals Stadium. Now Kauffman Stadium.<br />
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My grandparents had season tickets to the Royals for a very long time, most of my childhood I think. They had four seats about twenty rows back along the third base line. They brought my brother and me all the time for weekend games. All the time. We would spend the night at their house, sometimes the whole weekend, swim in their pool, eat Kraft macaroni and cheese with hot dogs for dinner and our choice of Grapenuts or crullers for breakfast the next day (crullers are basically French toast dipped in cinnamon and sugar instead of butter and syrup, kid heaven.) We'd swim and play card games with my grandmother until we were exhausted, sunburned and pruney fingered. After dinner we'd get in our pajamas, (I was always giddy to borrow one of my grandma's pretty, shiny, colorful nightgowns,) and we would end the night by jumping on their king-sized bed which was decked out in the most beautiful patchwork velvet bedspread. We'd climb in bed between them and watch Benny Hill on their tiny TV, we would laugh along with my grandfather, though I never understood why the old chubby guy chasing young girls was funny, we would fall asleep and they would gently wake us up and send us off to our own beds. Because we needed a good night's sleep for the best part of the weekend coming up, the Royals game.<br />
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My grandparents lived just a few minutes from the stadium and for the longest time I actually thought they owned it. It was right by their house and they were there constantly, they knew everyone and had multiple signed baseballs from the team, an enormous range of Royals clothing and paraphernalia, including my grandmother's light up Royals earrings, oh yes, you read that right. All of these things together, in my seven year old head, meant that they must own the stadium. Seemed logical at the time. Game day we arrived at the stadium, ran ahead of our grandparents straight to our seats, and before sitting and eating our weight in cotton candy and nachos, we would scurry right down to the edge of field and look at all the players warming up. Sometimes we'd get signatures for my brother's baseball or laugh at the antics of the San Diego Chicken. And then it was game time.<br />
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I always half paid attention. My grandfather made sure we watched, at least some of the time. He did a thorough and diligent job explaining the rules and detailing the strengths and weaknesses of all the players. This was in the Royals heyday of the 1980's: Dan Quisenberry, Bret Saberhagen, Frank White, George Brett (he was my favorite and we once ran into him at a local restaurant, he was very gracious, I had a bit of a crush on him.) We even got to attend Game 7 of the 1985 World Series. I remember the chaos and glee as the fans rushed the field when we won.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-5A3kARHdPKUZ8pKZy6krIOiY06j8QM2fHsBZrYu8QFgQfFZ9npbo8vMi66RBf1QNlvYUROIT5ab9y3KfSg_1kCrFHjILcupCVj9s87_jnu97pYnJlDaA-UIHVsFZ_Mfh70hh/s1600/7436755982_30b80e024b_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-5A3kARHdPKUZ8pKZy6krIOiY06j8QM2fHsBZrYu8QFgQfFZ9npbo8vMi66RBf1QNlvYUROIT5ab9y3KfSg_1kCrFHjILcupCVj9s87_jnu97pYnJlDaA-UIHVsFZ_Mfh70hh/s1600/7436755982_30b80e024b_z.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A 98 degree July day at the K with the family.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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But the games weren't about the actual baseball for me. It was about spending time with my grandparents. It was about hanging out with my little brother and collecting those plastic batting helmet sundae cups for him. It was about running full tilt up the twisty ramp to the upper levels and back down again so fast it made us dizzy. It was about feeling like I had a second home, not just at my grandparent's house but at their stadium. And maybe that's what sports are really about. People feeling a connection to a place, a stadium, a team of athletes with daunting impressive talent, that second home where all of your friends and family are, oh, and the beer. So while I may not be a sports fan, I will always love the Royals and that stadium, no matter what it's called now. To me it will always be Herb and Mary's, Grandma and Pa-Dad's. And now I can't wait to pass down these same experiences with our kiddo.
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Things I'm the Worst at right now:<br />
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Taking criticism without getting defensive</div>
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Doing my hair in any style but straight and down</div>
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Applying liquid eyeliner without redoing it three times, maybe four</div>
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Not cleaning the house if people are coming over</div>
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Sticking with one book and not trying three others before I land and finish one</div>
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Sharing the remote<br />
Patience</div>
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Not over analyzing everything, everything<br />
Letting the dishes sit over night<br />
Delayed gratification</div>
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Not comparing myself to other people</div>
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Being completely spontaneous </div>
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Making large changes outside of my routine without agonizing over them</div>
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Eating all the veggies I buy and plan to cook before they go bad</div>
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Not laughing without a bit of a snort </div>
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Doing things I'm not good at until I get better at them<br />
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(After 30 minutes of practice, I'm slightly better at the liquid liner.)</div>
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Things I'm the Best at right now:</div>
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Making quick decisions without regrets</div>
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Listening to you, closely<br />
Making the bed everyday</div>
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Wearing brooches and scarves</div>
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Picking books for other people</div>
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Putting myself in your shoes, though not literally because I'm guessing my feet are bigger than yours</div>
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Baking things you'll want to eat seconds of</div>
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Reading more than one book at a time</div>
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Managing multiple deadlines and projects and people personalities</div>
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Dog walks through leaves</div>
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Knowing a wide range of historical slut shaming terminology<br />
Assuming the worst in any serious situation </div>
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Crying while watching anything vaguely emotional</div>
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Eating all kinds of interesting things, even eel</div>
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Singing along to every song I love with loud joy, and totally off key</div>
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Loving you</div>
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Saying no</div>
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Appreciating your tiny lovely quirks</div>
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Procrastinating<br />
Buying lip gloss that's always too pink and never quite red enough</div>
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How about you? What are you terrible at today? What are you the queen or king of doing well?</div>
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Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-29354474832102757522014-10-03T14:35:00.000-05:002014-10-03T15:00:04.021-05:00Friday 5: James Dean, Jesus and Han SoloIt's Friday. The weekend is upon us. And since I'm trying to get back into this regular blogging gig, I thought I would cheat a little today and visit the <a href="http://f.riday5.com/">Friday 5</a> site for some writing inspiration. They always post an interesting set of questions on a theme each Friday. So today's theme is: Rebellion. After answering these five questions, I realized, well hell, I'm not much of rebel. Never have been. But I am in my heart. Han Solo, James Dean, Jesus. Rebels are the best.<br />
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<i><b>In what ways have you rebelled against your upbringing?</b></i><br />
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I'm not sure. I don't think my parents had any kind of clear philosophy in raising us. They are both so different from each other and once they got divorced it was like being raised in two very different and separate families. So which one was I rebelling against? Neither really. I mean, I made some choices neither would have liked. But I work hard. I'm happily married. I'm independent and assertive. I still live in my home town, because once I moved away I realized how great it actually was. I think these are all things that my parents wanted for me, because they make me happy. They didn't raise us in their images or as a way to live through us, so I don't feel like I've had to rebel much. I'm sure they would answer this question differently. At most my tiny rebellions include:<br />
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<ul>
<li>I don't attend church regularly like we did as kids. I guess I consider myself Methodist still, but I can't remember the last time I attended church except for Christmas and christenings.</li>
<li>I do have a couple of tattoos, and I know they both hate that. </li>
<li>I curse a lot. </li>
<li>And if I even say the word "masturbation" in front of my mom, she loses her cool. So I mention that often, because it's still fun at 39 to make your mom lose her cool. Ok, I'm a rebel.</li>
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<i><b>In what ways have you rebelled against your schooling?</b></i></div>
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I don't really think that I have in a traditional sense. Other than not following the typical four years of college, then job or grad school plan that most of my friends have followed. I struggled with serious depression off and on while I was in college, so school was really challenging for me. I finished and graduated, but it wasn't on a traditional timeline and I was disappointed in myself because of that. I still am sometimes. But because of it, I didn't have a perfectly clear plan or a formal structure to rebel against. My parents never told me I had to grow up and be a doctor or a lawyer. They let me figure it out. And they paid for my therapy, bonus points to the parents. </div>
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I've always loved writing, reading, helping people, teaching. Early on in college I thought I wanted to be a journalist or college level English professor. Through a volunteering job, I fell in love with social work, but ultimately my degree and certifications aren't in either subject. Now as a development director for nonprofits, I think my schooling and work experience and long time passions and even my past depression and struggles have all combined to fit my career choice quite perfectly. And the depression has been under control for over a decade. So what do I have to rebel against? Nothing. I kind of figured out my own path and made it work, even with some serious missteps of my own making during college. I give my parents credit for helping me figure things out and giving me the space and support so I could figure things out in my own time.</div>
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<i><b>In what ways have you rebelled against American culture?</b></i></div>
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What does that even mean? Is there an American culture? Aren't we too spread out and diverse and "insert melting pot/salad bowl metaphor here" to say we have one culture? Don't we all get to influence our own culture or find our own niche and community? But let's pretend that the culture that The Today Show or Oprah or Bill O'Reilly wants to sell me is the universal American cultural truth. In that case, I don't really like sports. I'm not religious. I've never watched much NASCAR or pro-wrestling. I'd give up TV before I'd give up books. But I do love apple pie, hot dogs, fireworks, wide open prairies, freedom, Bruce Springsteen, Boulevard beer and driving my car down a long stretch of deserted road. </div>
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<b><i>Is it possible to rebel against yourself?</i></b></div>
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Maybe against your best self, your ideal self, the self that creates unattainable New Year's resolutions. I rebel against my best intentions entirely too often. I need to make a resolution about that. Or read another Life Hacker article.</div>
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<b><i>What’s your favorite song about rebellion?</i></b></div>
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For singing along, Rebellion (Lies) by Arcade Fire. For yelling along and punching the air with my rebellious fist, Oh Bondage Up Yours by X-ray Spex.<br />
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<br />Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-47315408028245784882014-10-01T11:45:00.002-05:002014-10-01T12:02:38.340-05:0030 Second Book Reviews: A Dangerous Tower of Nightstand Books<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: left;">Even though adoption stuff and work and travel and friends and family have consumed most of my time this year, I'm still reading up a storm. Less that previous years granted, but I'm sure next year, once we have a kiddo, my time for reading will shrink up even more. I'm ok with that. I think I'll just be reading different things too. And the Roald Dahl and the Harry Potter and the Box Car Children and the Captain Underpants books will all deserve equal review time here. But for now, let's stick with the adult stuff. Mostly adult stuff. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: left;">I've been reading a mix of fiction and nonfiction, a lot of Stephen King again for some reason, and plenty of audiobooks on my commute and various road trips. I have slightly different standards for audiobooks than I do for books I read traditionally. I like more plot and less character development, fewer characters, more action in my audio and the beauty of the language isn't quite as important to me in audio. I don't know why that is. It just is. If I really want to savor a book, I want to pick it up, hold it in my hands and read it with my own eyes. So let's dive into the reviews for everything I've read since June. I've noted books that I've listened to rather than read, just so you know my bias. Totally biased.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>After I'm Gone by Laura Lippman- Audiobook </i>- Let's just jump in with the audiobook bias, I love a good mystery audiobook. This was that book. It was good. Not amazing. Good. A little long, a few too many characters, but enjoyable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Live from New York:An Uncensored History of Saturday Night Live by Tom Shales and James Allen Miller-</i> This book was funny and strange and fascinating created from interviews with all of the key SNL people on stage and behind the scenes from the 1970's to today. If you love SNL like I do, through its ups and downs, this is a must read. Plus you'll feel like you're trying cocaine without actually having to do so.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Parenting the Hurt Child by Gregory Keck -</i> I'm reading this one again right now. It's going to be really helpful. This parenting thing seems like it might be hard. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>The Tommyknockers by Stephen King -</i> Turns out, I don't really like sci-fi. It's one of the few genres I just can't seem to get into. This was a lot of weird aliens and strange goings on set in Maine naturally, not my favorite King novel but not the worst thing I've ever read. Much like sex or pizza, King is always pretty good even when he's not amazing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>All Three Gillian Flynn Books for the second time Gone Girl, Sharp Objects, Dark Place - Audiobooks - </i>I made Joe listen to these with me on various road trips. I love them all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>The Ivory Grin by Ross McDonald</i>- Noir noir noir. Dark, sinister, perfectly set in the 1950's. I wanted to sip a scotch, hire a PI to investigate my husband and wear a pencil skirt while reading this sucker.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Wine to Water by Doc Hendley-</i> A passionate and lively memoir about a bartender who finds his mission in life by bringing clean water to some of the most dangerous places in the world. Pretty inspiring while still pointing out all of the mistakes people make when running nonprofits. Good intentions don't negate the need for some planning, structure, and business acumen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>The Drowing Room by Elizabeth Black -</i>Audiobook- This one was odd. I stopped about half way through because I realized I didn't care about any of the characters. That's my valid excuse. I use it often. Life is too short to bother with books you don't want to really dive into.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Adopting the Hurt Child by Gregory Keck - </i>Again, I've read this one twice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>The Silent Wife by A.S.A. Harrison -Audiobook -</i> Like buying a "PRADA" bag on the streets of New York, this book wants you to think it's Gone Girl, but the stitching and quality of the fabric give it away immediately as a cheap imitator. I still listened to the whole thing though. I wanted to find out what happened!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>The Eternal Nazi by Nicholas Kulish and Souad Mekhennet -</i> I've had an ongoing, strong interest in WWII and the Holocaust since I was in high school. This was another example of bringing that time period to life, with the story of Nazi hunters on a quest to find Nazis even in the 2000's. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Snowblind by Christopher Golden - </i>Fine. It was fine. It was chilly and weird and fine. Parts of it were legitimately creepy but descriptions of little ice monsters dancing on snow just made me giggle and drink some hot cocoa.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>We Were Liars by E Lockhard- Audiobook - </i>Nope. Not a fan. I guessed the twist early on because I'm not 12. And I don't have the stomach for poor little rich kid youth fiction anymore. If I was 12 I would love this one though.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Three Little Words by Ashley Rhodes-Courter - </i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">What a gut punch of a book. As we get ready to adopt an older child through the foster care system, this book tore me up, inspired and educated me about what this process is like from the perspective of a child about to be adopted, to go through years of foster placements, to be ripped away from your biological parents, and to finally get your forever home. It's going to be so challenging for all of us, but isn't that the truth for anything deeply valuable in our lives? Thank you, Ashley, for sharing your story.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Mr. Mercedes by Stephen King -</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">A solid Stephen King novel. Strong characters that I found myself rooting for throughout, a macabre and disturbed villain I couldn't turn away from, and a story line that kept propelling me forward into certain chaos and potential doom. And while it lacked a true mystery or any typical King horror, it was a well paced, sometimes funny, always engaging book.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>I'd Know You Anywhere by Laura Lippman - Audiobook - </i>Again, a perfect audiobook mystery. A woman is kidnapped as a teenager and must face the kidnapper years later. I wasn't sure where this book was going to end up but I liked that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>The Serpent of Venice by Christopher Moore - </i>As usual, a ridiculous, funny, strange hybrid of a novel, mixing Shakespeare and fantasy and satire into one romp of a book. I love Christoper Moore and want to meet him someday.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>The Silver Pigs by Lindsey Davis <span style="font-family: inherit;">-</span></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: inherit; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">A mystery series wrapped up in the intrigue, history and rich setting of Ancient Rome. I'm hooked and with 20 books so far in the series, let's see how many I can read. Falco is funny, dastardly and such a rounded full character, I don't know if I want to slap him or kiss him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Visitation Street by Ivy Pochoda - </i>No wonder Dennis Lehane loved this novel. It's from the same school, the gritty dark streets, storyline and the magic of the words just flows together into this cast of characters and themes you can't turn away from, I loved it too. My motto, always take Dennis Lehane's book recommendations.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Empty Mansions by Bill Dedman and Paul Clark Newell, Jr. - Audiobook- </i>This is the totally true story of a multi-millionairess recluse who locked herself away with her dolls and her cartoons in her mansions in New York and then in a private hospital room for decades. It's bizarre and almost too strange to believe. I loved it. She was incredibly generous and incredibly unique.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So that's it! Right now I'm listening to <i>American Gods by Neil Gaiman</i>, a book I read a few years ago, but I heard such great reviews of the multi-cast audiobook, that I thought I'd read/listen to it again. It really is a modern classic. The gods of the book are currently meeting up at The House on the Rock, one of the most bizarre places I've ever been in real life, and it's been delightful to read Gaiman's descriptions of the place. That place completely deserves a prime spot in a bizarre epic fantasy novel like American Gods. I'm also reading a real paper copy of <i>Undaunted Courage by Stephen E. Ambrose,</i> about the Lewis and Clark Expedition. When we visited the Gateway Arch in St. Louis in July, I loved visiting the exhibits about Lewis and Clark, so I thought I'd learn more, since I only have a high school American History understanding of the whole exploration. Ambrose has an elegant narrative style that makes the dry history seem less so. I'm liking it so far. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So what are you reading as summer disappears into fall, my friends?</span></div>
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<br />Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-2412719229364468682014-09-29T12:38:00.002-05:002014-09-30T00:30:26.183-05:00Control Freak in Waiting<br>
Good lord. Have I mentioned before that I'm not a patient person? I'm not a person who easily just goes with the flow? Little things, sure, but big life events, I want input, I want control, I want a say, in all of it. And that doesn't work. It just doesn't. And at the age of 39, I'm finally learning this lesson. Just in time too.<br>
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I mentioned here, back in February when I last wrote, yeah, February, that Joe and I are going through the adoption process through the foster care system. And we are hopefully getting past the beginning and middle of it, the homestudy and classes and background checks part, then into the searching for kiddos part of it all, and now into the last phase, before the real stuff of parenting begins. The matching has happened. The case workers have sent over photos of our potential kiddo. We've read pages and pages of his case files, and had long talks together about what type of kiddo we think we can parent well, and extended conference calls full of questions and answers and more questions with case workers and foster parents and therapists. And now there's a specific kid out there that we think will be ours.<br>
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Ours. A specific kid. One little guy. It's not a mystery anymore. He knows we exist. We know all kinds of things about him too. But we haven't met yet. We're falling in love with him a little bit already. More everyday. And we haven't even met him yet. We don't know what his little voice sounds like. Or how many books he will demand we read together before bed. Or which superhero is his real favorite. Or what kind of jelly he likes best on his pb and j. But I think we'll know soon.<br>
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The bureaucracy keeps us waiting. I was talking to a good friend about it over the weekend and he said it made him feel reassured to know that there is a clear and formal process to protect kids and make sure that adoptive families understand the commitment. I've been looking at the process as a slow, painful obstacle somehow set up in our way to prevent us from getting to hug our kid, like yesterday already. And he put it in perspective for me with just a few words, without even intending to. I see irritating slowness there to thwart our best laid plans to grow our family this year, and he saw a deliberate, careful consideration. I'm caught up in the anxiety and anticipation of adding this wonderful child to our family as soon as possible, but people who aren't as impatient as I am, see the reasons for the delay. The reasons for the process and the methodical paperwork and signatures and the infuriating checklists.<br>
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Because it's not for certain that we'll click with this particular kiddo. It's not 100%. We might meet and it might just not feel right. It might be the hardest decision we've made yet, to walk away. Because the making of a family is tricky, especially with older kids. The right chemistry and the realistic expectations and the forever commitment all have to be there. But we're hopeful. We're really really hopeful. I think we might have our boy. We just might. And I'm sitting here trying not to imagine what it will be like to send him off to college, or take photos of him posed with his prom date. I find myself trying not to cry at the oddest times, with raw excitement and concerns popping up here and there. I'll try not to jump ahead too far. I'll try to tame my inner control freak, my inner impatient soon to be mom who wants to plan and strategize and read every parenting book before he gets here, so we can make sure we do it all right. I might have some perfectionist tendencies thrown in for good measure, too. Maybe.<br>
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I'm trying to tame this person inside of me, this ball of nervous tension and fear of failure who keeps closing her eyes scared of the unknown, because this combination of hopeful anticipation and sheer terror seems to be a feeling we're both going to have to learn to embrace. It sounds like it's going to be our new normal sometime soon, hopefully soon, like really soon. Come on, people, it can be soon, right? Soon? I'm trying to be the soft, gentle, soothing voice in my own head that says "It's going to be ok. Whatever happens, you can handle it. And you'll do your best, because that's who you are." I'm going to be that voice for myself right now, because very soon we're going to have the honor of being that voice for some small boy, who is just waiting to meet us too.<br>
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(Side note: this was my 500th blog post! Yippee! What a way to celebrate, by picking up a kid!)Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-22514449681782392382014-02-10T21:59:00.000-06:002014-02-10T22:06:07.148-06:001:1 Thrilled:TerrifiedI'm sitting here filled with a perfectly equal emotional ratio of 1 part terrified to 1 part thrilled. Ok, it might be closer to 2 parts terrified to 1 part thrilled, or maybe 2 parts thrilled, and 1 part terrified, ok, it goes back and forth constantly. This is what parenthood is going to look like, right?<br />
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We have our first foster parent/adoption class tomorrow night. Suddenly all the talk and paper work and character references and background checks start to feel real. The idea that our kid is out there already. Just waiting for us to find them,to get matched, as my friend Wendy pointed out to me a couple of weeks ago. He or she is already out there somewhere in the whole United States. It makes me wonder. Who's tucking them in at night? What books are they reading before bed? Are they even reading books before bed? What's their favorite toy? Is there a well loved teddy bear sleeping next to their tiny face tonight? What are they going to eat for breakfast tomorrow? What makes our child laugh? What makes them stomp their little feet in frustration? What do they want to be when they grow up? When do we get to meet them?<br />
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The idea that, because we are planning to adopt an older child, we could become parents as early as June. This June, is a little bizarre to me. We've tried off and on for years to become parents and this could actually be the year that it happens. It all feels so theoretical. So impossible somehow. And yet as I sit here tonight filling out pages and pages of paperwork, typing out our birth dates and social security numbers over and over again, filling out deeply personal questions about our own losses, the things that make us angry, trying to share the core of who we are as people, as a couple, as potential parents with these dry, standard questions. It's weird. It's so damn exciting it feels like all of the holidays rolled into one. And it's terrifying. Did I mention that part? But I'm so excited. My stomach hurts I'm so excited. So here we go...Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-56504069868197494522014-01-10T08:34:00.000-06:002014-01-10T16:47:33.720-06:00A Big Selfie Sendoff to 7 Days!<div style="text-align: center;">
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For the last five years I've had the pleasure of being a part of an online photo group, <a href="http://www.flickr.com/groups/sevendays/">7 Days</a>. Four times a year, for the last seven years (I only joined on Bethany and Joe's suggestion in 2009) but for seven excellent years, this gang of photographers has taken a self portrait every day for 7 days once a season. We posted our sometimes creative, sometimes genius, sometimes mundane photos online through Flickr and then we commented and chatted and got these sharp glimpses into each others lives. Through births and deaths, joy and sadness, we made friends. We connected, and we shared some great photography. So this last round just wrapped up right after Christmas, and it's the final round for the group.<br />
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I'm both sad and happy about that. It's a natural, timely ending, 7 years of 7 days. And I think the creators of the project are ready for new challenges. And I think we are too. So here is the collection of my last 7 Days photos. It's helped to make me a better, more creative photographer, and I've made some excellent friends from all over the world through this group. So thank you, 7 Days, and Sarah and Bethany and Lauren for starting us up and keeping us going, and all of the other wonderful participants! I love you guys. And I'll miss your faces. <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/collections/72157626913493779/">Here's a collection of all of my 7 Days photos</a> from the last five years, only venture in if you want to see that many shots of my face or feet. There's a lot. Which is kind of the point, right? (Joe's photos are really excellent, by the way, <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jastereo/sets/72157639120654174/">go see them here</a>, he's so good.)<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/11482538236/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="it's that time again by ksands9101, on Flickr"><img alt="it's that time again" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2858/11482538236_e1856df472.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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</i> <i>It's That Time Again</i><br />
I've been eyeballing this guy for years. He hangs on the bathroom wall in my mother-in-law's Wizard of Oz themed guest room. He's shiny, he's slightly creepy and he looks a bit like a mask. So Merry Christmas from the Tin Man, Dorothy, the Lion and the rest of the gang that we're sharing our room with over the holiday. And no, I didn't grow a mustache.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/11507840253/" title=""Let me stick this on my money stack." by ksands9101, on Flickr"><img alt=""Let me stick this on my money stack."" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2838/11507840253_456bb43320.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>"Let me stick this on my money stack."</i><br />
We had a great night tonight. Just a cozy night in at our dear friends' house, soup and sandwiches, way too many Christmas cookies. Then the games came out. Playing Despicable Me Monopoly with two of Katrina's sons and my husband. Guess who was more competitive, the kids or Joe? Guess who threw all his winnings into the air to "make it rain" and then tidied up his money with the "let me stick this on my money stack." I'll give you a hint, he's the one who's over 30.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/11526769525/" title="Gyros and a little Hustle by ksands9101, on Flickr"><img alt="Gyros and a little Hustle" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3682/11526769525_73e6344b4e.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Gyros and a little Hustle</i><br />
Dinner and a movie is one of my all time favorite night type activities. So add in a few of my favorite people, plus Greek food (with a huge mirror and mural of course), plus all of the fantastic holiday movie choices (we picked American Hustle) and our Monday night was pretty choice. How was yours?<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/11535333496/" title="Is it 2014 yet? by ksands9101, on Flickr"><img alt="Is it 2014 yet?" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7430/11535333496_cf0092228e.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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<i>Is it 2014 Yet?</i><br />
We're out running errands on this sleeting frigid Christmas Eve. Joe ran into Costco to pick up some photos he had printed for his mom. And I wisely waited in the car. This was a weird year for me, us really. A lot of ups and downs, I finally gave up on having any illusion of control, and we mixed some grief in there for good measure. But there are some exciting and slightly scary things awaiting us next year that I'm very much looking forward to. When I'm sitting somewhere quietly lately, I get contemplative about it all. I get a little sad. I over analyze it and get a little lost in my thoughts and fears. I worry and brood, while staring at all the shoppers scurrying through the parking lot off to finish errands so they can spend the day with their families like we are. But my brooding doesn't last long. Joe pops back in the car and breaks the spell, with his smile and his energy and his love, and I realize just how lucky I am.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/11554478304/" title="Filled with blessings and cookies by ksands9101, on Flickr"><img alt="Filled with blessings and cookies" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5512/11554478304_0e4ea8c672.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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</span><i> Filled with Blessings and Cookies</i><br />
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It's a Wonderful Life on the tv, my parents, dogs, a fire in the fireplace, presents, snacky dinner, and the husband. Aren't the holidays lovely sometimes?</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/11574808903/" title="My happy place by ksands9101, on Flickr"><img alt="My happy place" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2840/11574808903_62aa0eb2de.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<i>My Happy Place</i><br />
Going back to work after the holidays is one of those painful times filled with post holiday malaise, food regrets, exhaustion, and the desire to return to the days of presents, friends and family, naps, cookies and Santa. I missed Santa today as I worked on spreadsheets. So as my work day wrapped up and I ran some non-holiday errands, I made sure to make a stop at the library. I always smile while at the library. I can't help myself. All the potential and possibilities awaiting me. The knowledge and laughs just right there. Plus sometimes they have free cookies. So it seemed only appropriate to take a library shot, on this our last 7 Days round. And I did get caught by one of the elderly librarians, she just shook her head and shuffled away from me mumbling under her breath, "cell phone cameras..." So what's one of your happy places, friends?<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/bravelyobey/11596195404/" title="This is the end, my friends by ksands9101, on Flickr"><img alt="This is the end, my friends" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5497/11596195404_94058079f3.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>This is the end, my friends</i><br />
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It's been a pleasure. A challenge. A hoot. And a true delight to "meet" you all. Thank you for letting me peek into your lives over the last years. Your lives are as beautiful as you are. I've made some amazing friends from this quirky little selfie group and my life is more colorful, more creative and just more because of 7 days, and you. Yeah, I'm talking about you. So good bye for now and let's see each other again soon, ok?</div>
Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-19411245840949936132014-01-02T11:12:00.001-06:002014-01-02T11:12:29.677-06:00The Strangest YearI am never going to be pregnant. I'm never going to grow a baby inside of my body, some magical combination of centuries of DNA from Joe's family and mine. Melded into a mysterious and lovely little person. It's not going to happen. And that's a hard thing to admit to myself. It's a hard thing to absorb.<br />
Not because we know who that person would have been or what that person's laugh would have sounded like, but because they never existed. We aren't grieving that person, we are grieving the simple idea, the whisper, the hope of that little person in our lives. And that's one of the hardest, most elusive, and most painful things I've ever had to feel.<br />
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It's a sharp pain some days. Others days it's nothing more than a slight lump in my throat while watching a child throw a tantrum in Target. Some days there's even a bit of relief that my body will always belong just to me. But December has been hard. Waves of grief and loss creep up at the oddest times. And especially around the holidays, which I've always loved. They were a little bittersweet this year. I've felt like I've been walking around in a bit of a daze this last month. Not grieving a death. Not grieving a tangible, concrete loss. But grieving an idea, a dream, a hope and a joy that we won't get to experience. And that feels strange, and yet still deeply painful sometimes.<br />
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But I'm getting ok with it. I'm getting to the next place, the place that says, ok, we want to be parents, above DNA and placentas and Lamaze classes, we want to be parents. So we'll find a way to do that. But this wispy sadness will always be with me, I think. This little "what if?". We did everything we could to try and have a biological baby. No regrets. But that "what if?" will always linger. Who would that little person have looked more like? Would they have had Joe's curly hair and my height? Would they like to ski or dream of being president or hated algebra with a fiery passion? Who would that person have been? And I'm allowed to wonder that. I'm ok with wondering that. Because we'll never know. But I get to wonder that because I know that we will be parents to a real live child, not a dream, not a whisper. Not a biological child, but our child nonetheless.<br />
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Joe and I will have a home filled with laughter and fun and bedtimes and books and joy and tears and chaos. We will have that. It's just going to come to us in some form that we can't understand yet. It will happen. I know it. And I think the challenges of the last year have actually prepared us for the next challenges ahead. I feel tested and stronger and better able to sit with my own feelings and let them happen. And I think these are skills Joe and I both will need in the coming year. So as much as I am sad, I'm excited and scared and nervous about what happens next. Who will we be meeting? Whose laundry will I be doing someday? Who will we be helping with homework, and cuddling while watching movies, and grounding for a week, because that's inevitable, right? I have no idea. But I can't wait to meet them.<br />
<br />Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-17939230006747848302013-12-31T12:18:00.002-06:002013-12-31T12:18:14.056-06:0030 Second Book Reviews: Goodbye 2013!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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2013 is drawing to a close today and this has to have been one of the strangest, fastest and most challenging years I've had in a long time. I'll write more about that later. But to end 2013 with things I adore, and with a little bit of a literary bang, I thought I'd share with you the rest of the books that I read in the final months of this year. There's something here to get you excited about reading in 2014, I promise. So skim these super tiny reviews and pick up something new to start January 2014 with a bang!</div>
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<br /><br /><i>No Mark Upon Her</i> by Deborah Crombie -I'm hooked on this British mystery series and fearful I'm going to start adding British slang to my everyday chatter. Tea, loo, cuppa. Yep, it's happening.<br /><br /><i>Neverwhere</i> by Neil Gaiman- Neil Gaiman's books make me feel like a kid again, reading with an enthusiasm, speed, glee and terror about what might happen to my friends on the next page. Clever, fresh and familiar and delightful, I loved this one. His books have a heft and a message that doesn't weigh down the story.<br /><br /><i>12-21</i> by Dustin Thomason- Since it's 2013 already, I think we all know the end of the world Maya stuff was nonsense, but it did make for a silly, fun, suspenseful summer read.<br /><br /><i>An Atheist in the Foxhole</i> by Joe Meto- This memoir is mildly amusing fluff. Nothing shocking or particularly revealing. Musto comes across as a rather smug, short sighted prepster in a Rep tie and a sport coat. He's no mole. He's just milking his last five minutes of "fame" and who can blame him.<br /><br /><i>The River of No Return</i> by Bee Ridgeway-Strange and philosophical, and fun all at the same time. And certain to be a series, which makes me happy.<br /><br /><i>Kissed a Sad Goodbye</i> by Deborah Crombie-Perfect mystery series to listen to on my commute. And I'm totally out of order in this series and I don't care.<br /><br /><i>The Lodge Cast Iron Cookbook</i> by The Lodge Company - It's so good. I feel like my Great Grandma Ouida every time I haul out the cast iron pan, but after reading this book, I'm not sure why I cook with anything else. Like 1,500 cornbread recipes. And why not? Cornbread is amazing.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">
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<br /><br /><br /><br /><i>It Gets Better</i> by Dan Savage and Terry Miller- I listened to this audio-book that takes multiple interviews with LGBT adults, sharing their stories to help young LBGT youth realize that is does get better. This project has exploded and made a huge impact. The book gets a bit repetitive, but the message is enormously valuable.<br /><br /><br /><i>Fangirl</i> by Rainbow Rowell- Because I don't really get the idea of fan-fiction, so it took me a little longer to get sucked into Fangirl than it did with Rainbow's other two amazing novels. But that's my issue, not an issue with the book itself. The book is a delight. Filled with funny, nerdy, flawed and honest characters whose relationships feel so natural that it's quite painful at times to read. Rainbow knows how to capture the blush of first love and lust, much like in Eleanor and Park, it took me right back to those times in my own life. She knows how to let you into a character's head so well that I found myself relating to the young protagonist and at the same time feeling more like her parent, shaking my head and saying to her "What are you doing, Cath?" Rainbow knows how to share the pain of struggling with social anxiety, family with mental illness and divorce without hitting you over the head like a cheesy after school special. I found myself irritated and loving and proud and admiring of the two main characters, twin sisters Cath and Wren. I fell in love with Levi's smile. I wanted to hang out with Regan all night at a local bar. And I ended up even falling in love with all the Simon and Baz bits too by the end. So thanks again, Rainbow, for creating this beautiful, smart, complex and yet familiar world and letting us into it<br /><br /><br /><i>The Impossible Lives of Greta Wells</i> by Andrew Sean Greer-Sparse and lovely writing with a story that raises the question of possible tandem lives, who we are and what might be if we lived in a different time. I liked this odd little novel, it made me wonder about my own life and the core people I would hope appear in any decade and version of my life.<br /><br /><i>The Shadowy Horses</i> by Susanna Kearsley-Everything I like in a vacation read: romance, witty banter, rugged dark haired Scottish hunks, psychic kids, archeological digs, Roman ghosts and some vodka smuggling. I read this while lying in bed in our tiny rented cottage in Maine, staring at the rain hitting our windows and watching the tide come in. That might skew my review, just a heads up.<br /><br /><i>Someday Someday Maybe</i> by Lauren Graham-Charming vacation read. I hope there's a sequel. Like reading a novel written by and starring a young Lorelei Gilmore. Straight up F.U.N.<br /><br /><i>The Shanghai Girls</i> by Lisa See-Shredded. Easily one of the most frustrating and depressing books I've read in a long time. I couldn't even read the sequel.<br /><br /><i>The Ocean at the End of the Lane</i> by Neil Gaiman-Odd, and sweetly sad, and like a fable or a myth that feels true in your bones, but you suddenly find hard to articulate to someone else why it resonates inside of you.<br /><br /><i>Serena</i> by Ron Rash-One of my favorite books of the year. Deeply flawed, frightening characters and the good people struggling to survive under their watchful, terrifying and charismatic eyes. A fucked up love story, if you'll pardon my language. (Sidenote: I cannot wait to see Jennifer Lawrence play the title character in the movie!)<br /><br /><i>The Cuckoo's Calling</i> by Robert Galbraith (JK Rowling really) - Fine. I only picked this up, like most people, because JK wrote it. It was fine.<br /><br /><i>An Object of Beauty</i> by Steve Martin - Art buyers in New York throughout the 1980's and 90's. It was funny, slick, ridiculous and entertaining audiobook. I love Steve Martin's style. Even with the fake arrows through the head.<br /><br /><i>If I Stay</i> by Gail Foreman-Who knew such a small, seemingly simple young book would break my heart? The romance and the very basic writing style wasn't my favorite, but the family, oh that family got me, particularly the grandparents.<br /><br /><i>Where She Went</i> by Gail Foreman - The sequel to If I Stay. I liked it, but it didn't break my heart like the first one.<br /><br /><i>Sisterland</i> by Curtis Sittenfeld- I liked this story of two sisters, two very very different sisters set in St. Louis, Missouri. But the story felt like it went on too long and rambled a bit. It was more predictable than I wanted it to be, but Sittenfeld is a strong writer and I enjoyed it, I just thought it could have been edited down a bit.<br /><br /><i>People Who Eat Darkness</i> by Richard Loyd Parry-This non-fiction story about a kidnapped and murdered American girl living in Japan, would have suited me much better as a long form article. Way too long, way too much detail. I skimmed the last half of the book.<br /><br /><i>The Paris Wife</i> by Paula McClain-I think everyone's probably read this one already, about Ernest Hemingway's first wife. Hadley was a strong, old fashioned gem, Hemingway, of course, was a louse and a prick. But one hell of a writer.<br /><br /><i>Reconstructing Amelia</i> by Kimberley McCreight-2.75 Stars. Fast, rather convoluted, and more like an overly long and unnecessarily complicated episode of Law and Order.<br /><br /><i>The Other Typist</i> by Suzanne Rindell- This audio-book read by Gretchen Mol was perfection. An unreliable gossipy narrator, a twist, and some charmingly devious characters and developments. I loved this novel. So much.<br /><br /><i>Joyland</i> by Stephen King-Stephen King as been an author I've loved since high school. I think I'll always love him. He writes horror and mystery and fantasy populated by real, complex characters that you fall right in love with from the first page. He doesn't stick to one type of story, but you always know it's a Stephen King book. Joyland was't perfect or unique exactly, but it was an excellent read. Thanks again, Mr. King.<br /><br /><i>The Sound of Broken Glass</i> by Deborah Crombie-Again, British mystery series. These are my new summer addiction. So good I keep jumping around in the series and I don't even notice that I'm reading out of order. Or should I say listening, because I'm listening to this whole series.<br /><br /><i>Beautiful Ruins</i> by Jess Walter-Can someone take me to Italy again please? I'm an excellent travel companion. This book is sad and true and beautiful. I loved the examination of fame, art, pain and family, from Italy in the 1960's to LA in the present, this book is great.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">
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<br /><br /><i>The Language of Flowers</i> by Vanessa Diffenbaugh- Nope. I was in for the first half of this one, and then it went right off the rails. Couldn't finish. Couldn't enjoy it. Just lost me.<br /><br /><i>American Savage</i> and <i>The Commitment</i> by Dan Savage- I was in a bit of a Dan Savage mood here for a bit in September. He's so bold and funny and honest that I enjoyed reading both his essays and then listening to the story of his relationship and eventual marriage to his husband Terry. Did I mention that if you follow him on Instagram, you might be able to see the incredibly hot Terry wearing only some swim trucks? Yeah, you can.<br /><br /><i>Golden Boy</i> by Abigail Tarttelin - One of my top five books of the year. Just go read it. I don't even want to say much about it here. It explores gender, family and how we become who we are meant to be. It's beautiful and challenging and tender.<br /><br /><i>The Wrath of Angels</i> by John Connolly- Just a strange little murder mystery with angels and demons set in the Maine woods. No big whup.<br /><br /><i>The Silver Star</i> by Jeanette Walls- Oh jeez, I wanted to love this book. I love Jeanette Walls' The Glass Castle, but something was missing for me with this one. I can't put my finger on it. It was too easy I think.<br /><br /><i>Catching Fire</i> and <i>Mockingjay</i> by Suzanne Collins- My third time reading this series. I still love it. I think Catching Fire is my favorite of the three.<br /><br /><i>Grace Eventually</i> by Anne Lamott- Just the book I needed at just the right time. No one shares their flaws, their grace, their need and their survival quite like Anne Lamott. I adore her writing and her attitude and her beliefs about the world. And I needed her reassuring words.<div>
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<i>The Dinner</i> by Herman Koch - Strange, quick, chock full of bloody violence and family drama. Not the best book I've ever read, but a solid 3.5 stars and a perfect diversion on a chilly Sunday afternoon.<br /><br /><i>The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society</i> by Mary Ann Shaffer - Not what I expected at all. Told entirely through letters and set before and after World War II in London and on the island of Guernsey, I loved this sweet, small little novel and enjoyed learning about WWII from an entirely different perspective.<br /><br /><i>The Shining</i> by Stephen King- As terrifying as when I read it in high school. And so much better than Stanley Kubrick's strange movie version.<br /><br /><i>The Blood of Flowers</i> by Anita Amirrezvani-While I loved the descriptions and setting, the protagonist was just irritating enough to make this a three star instead of a three and a half. Clearly well researched and beautifully created, many of the characters felt a little hollow. Felt a little too romance novel for me. But a happy, independent ending which seemed nearly impossible for a book set in 1600's Iran.<br /><br /><i>Life After Life</i> by Kate Atkinson- On nearly every best book of 2013 list, it isn't on mine. Eh.<br />I tried, but it just felt rather repetitive and pointless, despite the exquisite writing. Maybe just the wrong book at the wrong time.<br /><br /><i>The Litigators</i> by John Grisham- Silly, silly audio-book. I miss A Time to Kill or The Firm. This was not that.<br /><br /><i>Mystic River</i> by Dennis Lehane-Once again, Dennis Lehane cements his position as one of my absolute favorite authors. A gut punch of a book that left me questioning good vs. evil, the morality of taking the law into your own hands, and the definition of loyalty. A nearly perfect novel.<br /><br /><br /><i>Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls</i> by David Sedaris- I've stopped reading copies of Sedaris, and instead always let him read to me. His books need his voice. And this one, while not my very favorite, was filled with the perfect balance of family stories, sly observations about our culture and lives, and quirky fiction. I love Sedaris and no holiday season is complete without a little Santaland Diaries or Six to Eight Black Men on the radio.<br /><br /><i>What Do Women Want?</i> by Daniel Bergner-Joe made me read this. Sexy, fascinating, full of new science research and personal stories both insightful, a bit sad and culturally revolutionary. Did I mention sexy?<br /><br /><i>Bellman and Black</i> by Diane Setterfield-<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"> </span></span>Can't give this a rating since I didn't finish it. I just found the writing flat, the story and characters rather dull, and the dialogue stilted. Maybe I'll come back. Really disappointed because I loved her other novel, The Thirteenth Tale. Go read that one instead.</div>
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<br /><i>Stella Bain</i> by Anita Shreve- Again, an author I used to adore, books like Sea Glass and Fortune's Rock were wonderful. Lately I haven't been as enamored. So this one was <span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">c</span></span>loser to 3.5 stars, but still compelling, and a different angle on WWI. I enjoyed this book and liked the ending<br /><br /><i>Blankets</i> by Craig Thompson- I finished this book in the middle of the night, with a short bout of insomnia. It was a sweet coming of age graphic novel, all tied up in lust, religion, family strife and growth. I liked it a lot.<br /><br /><i>Doctor Sleep</i> by Stephen King - The perfect book to end 2013 on. I loved this sequel to The Shining. Not a single criticism. Not so much terrifying, but still captured the creeping, unsettled quality that The Shining had. I loved this book. I loved seeing Danny all grown up and meeting Abra. I hope we see more of these characters in future King novels. </div>
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So how was your literary 2013? Any great recommendations for my 2014 reading? I'm still listening to Keith Richards' memoir <i>My Life</i>, it's long and a little rambling so I need to hear it in small doses. And I'm also listening to an excellent short book called <i>Bite by Bite</i> by Geneen Roth about emotional eating. It's a good kick start to some resolutions I'm working on in 2014. So goodbye until next year and have a safe and happy New Year's Eve!<br /><div>
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Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-1457387203556123562013-10-23T22:00:00.002-05:002013-10-25T01:06:22.765-05:00Getting a Taste of Minnesota NiceI read something the other day that suggested that if you wanted to find out what stereotypes existed around the city you lived in you should google "Why is 'insert name of city here' so..." and watch what auto-populates. I don't care what people think about Kansas City, because I live here and I know the truth. This city is fabulous. (Flawed, of course, but fabulous.)<br>
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But it made me think about our travels and the assumptions we make about cities when we visit. Typically our visits are short, just a few days to soak in the culture and the ambiance and the vibe of wherever we've landed. The wandering traveler part of me mourns the fact that I'll never get to be a resident of 99% of the places we've visited. Because I think there are things I would find welcoming and engaging about so many of these spots we've had the chance to visit. But I'm a Midwestern girl. I like being rooted in one spot. I like being close to the majority of our friends and family. But I love traveling. And visiting loved ones. So back in April we headed north, with a very brief sojourn in the <a href="http://bravelyobey.blogspot.com/2013/06/mason-city-and-frank-lloyd-wrong.html">small town charms of Mason City</a>, and went on to meet some Twins for the first time.<br>
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These twin cities, thanks to our charming hosts who were the primary reason for our visit in the first place, won us over in just a few days. So instead of googling "Why is Kansas City so.... " and waiting for the stereotypical, mythological answer, I googled "Why is Minneapolis so..." and here's what popped up:<br>
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Liberal<br>
Cold<br>
Gay<br>
Expensive<br>
Great<br>
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And here's exactly why I fell in love with these two towns, St. Paul and Minneapolis, because out of that list, only one thing gets in my way, the cold. And who doesn't look cuter in hats and scarves and boots anyway?<br>
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Now I'd always heard good things about the Twin Cities. If you like art and food and books and theater and culture like we do, people tend to say this to you. And I'd heard from some St. Paul expert guides, our good friends, <a href="http://warmedtheworld.blogspot.com/">Emily</a> and Jay, that we were going to enjoy ourselves on our visit. And as our hosts and long time residents, they knew what they were talking about.<br>
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Now those Twin Cities played hard to get at first. It was mid April and we expected mild spring temperatures. But the cities made us work for it, instead of mild, it snowed before we arrived, and nearly everyday while we were visiting. In April. Like every single day. So we had to prove ourselves worthy of these Twins and brave the crap weather and buck up. And we did.<br>
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We arrived in Minneapolis Friday morning, and forgive me, but I still haven't learned how to know when I'm in Minneapolis or St. Paul respectively, but I'll get there. So we arrived in "town" and since Emily had an important event on campus to run, she is the assistant to the provost for the University of Minnesota, we headed to grab some lunch before meeting up with our hosts so we could attend Em's fancy work event, more on that later.<br>
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We aimed to eat somewhere close to campus so we'd have time to linger and then figure out parking for the event, so we got in the very long, but quickly moving line at <a href="http://www.punchpizza.com/about/">Punch</a>, home of perfectly thin crust, wood oven cooked at a blistering 800 degrees, Neapolitan style pizza. Joe and I split a pizza covered in spicy salami, sausage, garlic and king Vesuvio tomatoes, and a fresh salad, and it tasted like being in Italy again. Minus the snow melting on the floor and the smell of wet college students wafting through the room. It was a perfect lunch and a lovely welcome to the frigid North. Hot, crunchy, spicy pizza. After our lunch we headed over to the Ted Mann Concert Hall for what was guaranteed to be an intellectually challenging, but fascinating lecture and Em's big event.<br>
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I'm not a scientist. I was an English Lit major with an art minor. Science is not my passion. But I do find scientific subjects intriguing when presented so that someone without a doctorate can actually understand the concepts. And Lisa Randall, best selling author and theoretical physicist, was billed as just that, bringing theoretical physics to the unwashed masses. But that's a hard task. Physics is a challenging enough discipline without verging into the dark matter/time travel theoretical portion of the subject.<br>
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Once she got about ten minutes into her lecture, I think most of us, at least the people in our group, were in over our pretty little heads. I think we are all intelligent, well-read, well-spoken, liberal arts type, NPR listening folks, but this was something very different. There was a tense question and answer session, where students and professors, many studying or teaching in other sciences like biology, had the chance to ask questions and casually debate topics with Ms. Randall. She shut them down. She was brilliant. She was prickly, with little interest in silly questions, and she was brilliant. Things that I did learn, and am trying to still remember: dark matter is transparent, time travel is impossible because all of the things that we hold dear wouldn't exist, and scale matters.<br>
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After the lecture and the brief flash of feeling like a nose picking moron, we headed back to Jay and Emily's house, and Jay gave us the tour of their lovely home, friendly neighborhood, and cute, wriggling dog, Sam. Sam and I hit it off. A little too well. Though by the end of the visit he'd finally stopped greeting my leg with a hearty hump and just settled for having his neck and ears scratched. Emily joined us after her event wrapped up and we headed back out for some dinner, conversation and book shopping.<br>
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After a dinner of scrumptious sandwiches, and spreads and soups at <a href="http://www.cafelatte.com/">Cafe Latte</a>, we each took home a decadent slice of cake for later, and made a stop at Garrison Keillor's amazing local book store, <a href="http://www.commongoodbooks.com/">Common Good Books</a>. I think we wandered for over an hour, took home a few selections and just enjoyed the atmosphere, the impressive independent selections and those cool tin ceilings. I kind of wanted to have a slumber party right there.<br>
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We headed back to the house, and settled in for some talk. Emily and Jay are the kind of friends that we don't get to see in person very often. We keep in touch online, but once we are together, face to face, the talking just doesn't stop. All four of us get along so well, and have so much to share, that there aren't those awkward lulls that happen sometimes with people you don't see often. They are easy friends. And that's a huge compliment. So we talked and talked and laughed and gossiped and talked some more, we drank coffee and ate rich, indulgent slices of cake, and then we changed into pajamas, and settled in to catch up on Game of Thrones before the 3rd season premiere. All wrapped up in quilts on their massive couch with a sleeping dog at our feet, we finally headed to bed around 1:30 am, all talked and Throned out for the night. (God, I miss that show.)<br>
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Saturday was jammed. We woke up fairly leisurely. I say we did, Joe and I, but Emily and Jay were up early, taking Sam off to doggy day care for the day, and Emily was prepping Indian food for dinner with another group of friends that night. We eventually got dressed, gussied ourselves up and headed out for brunch, antiquing, shopping and general sight-seeing, with an itinerary planned by our personal tour guides.<br>
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We headed over to northeast Minneapolis and brunched at <a href="http://www.redstagsupperclub.com/">The Red Stag Supper Club</a>. The place is in an old warehouse building with high ceilings and wide open spaces, and it looks like a mix between an old saloon and a brothel. All dark wood and red velvet, but with big open windows and lots of light. Filled with an equal ratio of hipsters and grandmas, eating joyfully off of the locally sourced menu. I had the hash browns, sausage asparagus cheddar scramble with brioche toast and Joe had the "best Reuben ever" and fries. And lots of coffee.</div>
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And in order to walk off a little of the brioche and the corned beef, we opted for a little shopping. We hit <a href="http://www.ilikeyouonline.com/">I Like You</a> for quirky, strange knick-knacks, like a clay state of Minnesota Christmas ornament and a hand lettered "Get Your Shit Together" print. And then we walked over to<a href="http://www.citysalvage.com/"> City Salvage </a>to look at antiques. And to buy a slightly broken, incredibly dirty stained glass window from La Crosse, Wisconsin that Joe fell in love with. Six months later and we still need to find a home for that window. It's clean at least, sitting in our basement waiting for a home. Let's pretend it's a Frank Loyd Wright original, shall we? Who know? It might be. Or at least a beautifully inspired knock off.</div>
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After our shopping, our hosts suggested that we do some sightseeing so we drove over to the <a href="http://www.guthrietheater.org/">Guthrie Theater</a>. The place is enormous. Just massive. And beautiful and modern and filled with sharp little corners, and mirrored windows, and so much color, and stunning views of Minneapolis.<br>
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Our personal docents, (see our lovely friends up there? Did I mention that Emily was glowingly 6 months pregnant during our visit?) made sure we saw it all. Heading directly to the top for those dramatic views, (see all that damn snow in April?!) and then we just wandered around the building for awhile. Checking out the long halls filled with photos of the famous, talented actors who have performed on one of the three renowned Guthrie stages, taking in the views, the yellow rooms, the outside spaces, and just absorbing all the culture and architecture we could soak up.<br>
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See? I told you the views were impressive. That is the Stone Archway bridge, and then the Gold Medal Flour factory which is now the Mill City Museum. Which we might have to visit next time we're in town.<br>
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I'm just sticking with the dramatic theatre theme we've got going here.<br>
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This is the Endless Bridge, the cantilevered lobby that gives you these staggering views of the Stone Arch Bridge, the Mississippi, and the falls, and I'm sure 1,000 other landmarks that I can't remember.<br>
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So much yellow. What a ridiculously cheerful room to visit on one of the many icy, gray Minnesota winter days, all this amber glass as you look out over the river again, and more landmarks. See why people love this town? A huge cantilever amber glass filled room? Who else has this? It's so strangely appealing. Though it does have the tendency to make everyone look like a jaundiced newborn baby in photos.<br>
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And of course, kids dressed in their prom finery had to come and have their photo taken with Mr. Guthrie. And so did we. And of course we had to pretend to pick his enormous nose. Remember, I said I felt like a nose picking moron earlier? Turns out it was the truth.<br>
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After our afternoon of theater, or at least theater building touring, the genders split. The men headed off to visit the Union, and take artistic architectural photos, and the women went off to meet the lovely <a href="http://profbanks.com/">Jessica</a> and <a href="http://www.2bperfectlyfrank.com/">Amy</a>, two women that I've met online through our blogs, <a href="http://reverbbroads.blogspot.com/">Reverb Broads</a>, and mutual friends like Em. We chatted over coffee for a couple of hours and talked about everything from books to volunteering to politics. They were delightful and funny, and it was a treat to get to spend a little time with them in person instead of just online. And of course, I forgot to take any photos. Crap. So here are the photos from the men. Since the women failed to document our afternoon properly. <br>
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After our gender assigned afternoon activities, we met back up at Emily and Jay's house, gave Sam some attention while avoiding any errant humping, and got ready for the arrival of the baking goddess whirlwind that is Emily's friend <a href="http://plumbtuckeredout.blogspot.com/">Lanie</a>, and her husband Kirk. Lanie is another friend that I've met through Em and through our blogs, and she is one of those people that brings light and energy into a room without any effort. She is bubbly and open and hilarious and honest, and can bake like friggin Julia Child could cook. Lanie is a whirlwind in the nicest sense of the word. Lanie and Kirk arrived, so once again, somehow the genders got split, with us women talking loudly, or so I'm told, in the kitchen, while the men hung out in the living room, talking slightly less loudly. <br>
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We had Emily's delicious Indian food for dinner, followed by Lanie's epic desserts, a chocolate cake with a chocolate peanut butter ganache and a cheesecake covered in strawberries. It was a delicious way to end the day. The only regret from the night was that Kirk wasn't feeling well so Lanie and Kirk had to leave early. We were bummed, but totally understood and now just want to make sure that we have the chance to see them on our next visit! So once again, we wrapped up the night with pjs, talking, Game of Thrones and plenty of satisfied touristy exhaustion. <br>
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So how does one wrap up a brief, but fabulous weekend trip with an appropriate finale? What last splash? What final memory to send us off on our six hour drive? If I told you that we waited in line for an hour in the cold and snow flurries to get breakfast, would you laugh at me? Because that's exactly what we did. And it was totally worth it.<br>
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Emily and Jay have a deep love for <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Al's_Breakfast">Al's Breakfast</a> in Dinkytown. I think a vast proportion of the population of Minneapolis has a love for Al's brand of expertly cooked breakfast foods, teeny tiny narrow restaurant, brusque staff and chronic long line.<br>
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Em sold us on Al's by simply describing the fact that the restaurant is so tiny, roughly ten feet wide, there is just one long counter with just 14 bar stools and everyone who waits for their seat is literally standing right behind the people currently eating. You can see what they chose for breakfast, you can tell when they need a coffee refill. And it's clearly an institution.<br>
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The walls are covered with memorabilia and the detritus of years of successfully filling people's bellies with some of the best corn beef hash, poached eggs, blueberry pancakes and bacon that a person could dream up.<br>
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I mean it's a James Beard American Classics Restaurant award winner for a reason. It's like eating in an alleyway with a crowd of people standing behind you, and somehow it feels perfect. Because it's this melding of atmosphere, lore, and flawless cooking. I want to go to there. Now. And this time I'm trying the waffle with bacon in the middle. In the middle. My god.<br>
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So we wrapped up our visit with pancakes and corned beef hash, and poached eggs and strong coffee and laughter. Lots and lots of laughter.<br>
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We drove back to Em and Jay's house, said goodbye to Sam, packed our bags, checked a couple of books out of the <a href="http://libraryofjustice.blogspot.com/">Library of Justice</a> (the <a href="http://littlefreelibrary.org/">Little Free Library</a> branch owned and operated by the erudite Em and Jay), hugged our dear friends and promised to visit again soon.<br>
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A brief 48 hours or so in Minneapolis and St. Paul, and I feel like we got a true taste of Minnesota nice. Covered in syrup, decorated with quirk and scenic views, guided by wonderful friends, and squeezed into the tiniest restaurant I've ever seen, but nice, so very nice. And then of course it started snowing again. Because this is Minnesota after all.<br>
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Most photos by the non-nose picking moron, <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jastereo/">Joe Sands</a>. And a couple by me, and one or two by Jay Mac.<br>
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No, this is not a post about margaritas, though I kind of wish it were. That sounds delicious on a warm summer day like today. But no. Remember that one year, 2011, <a href="http://bravelyobey.blogspot.com/2012/07/52-new-recipes-revisited.html">when I vowed to make a new recipe once a week for the whole year?</a> Yeah! It was tasty and fun and but so much effort to cook, and shoot, and eat and then write about it every time. So I haven't blogged my cooking in awhile. But we had my dad, step-mom and brother over for dinner last weekend and Joe, the recipe scout, found this wonderful summer recipe for us to make, <a href="http://www.ourbestbites.com/2013/06/grilled-chicken-with-cucumber-melon-salsa/">Grilled Chicken with Cucumber Melon Salsa</a>. </div>
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It was fresh and light and took advantage of all the Missouri grown melons and cucumbers at the store lately and the fresh herbs in our herb garden. (The only kind of garden I can actually manage, minus a couple of pots of geraniums and some hosta that refuses to die.) </div>
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I doubled the recipe since we were serving five adults and figure leftovers would be excellent during the week. We added some veggies, cottage cheese ranch dip otherwise known as Underhill dip from Joe's family, and a delicious pesto, mozzarella, and tomato pasta salad from my step-mom, and it was an excellent summer meal.</div>
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The recipe is really easy. Sunday morning I mixed up the marinade, juicing about eight limes, and got the chicken soaking all day in the fridge. Then the real work. Just chopping, dicing and more chopping. And cutting some mint out of the garden. That was it. The most work was chopping, juicing limes and Joe grilling the chicken. The weather was too hot on the deck, so we had dinner inside and then forced my brother and parents to watch Pitch Perfect. Mike was skeptical at first, "Is this going to be a piece of shit?" We assured him, no, it's funny and quirky and enjoyable. And it was. So if you're looking for some way to spice up your Sunday dinner, might I suggest melon salsa, lime chicken and the antics of college age acapella singers to wrap up your weekend? Because "Organized nerd singing? This is great!" </div>
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Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-79180495064169084522013-06-28T15:53:00.005-05:002013-06-28T20:55:32.292-05:00Photo Fellowship and Creative NarcissismI love taking pictures. Like most people with a phone nowadays, I like to capture moments, big and small. It seems to have taken over the world, this taking photos of the mundane and the impressive all the time. So much so that I'm reading a British mystery novel and the detectives decided that the murder victim in the story must have had something to hide because they couldn't find any photos saved on her phone. (Message I took from this, take plenty of photos to avoid being murdered.) I love playing around with light and locations and angles and filters. I love taking pictures of food that I make. I don't care if this makes me corny or an over-sharer. I like it. I'm married to a semi-professional photographer, so photo equipment is around our house all the time. I have full access to any myriad of professional lens and camera bodies, remotes and flashes and triggers. But I always go back to my phone. It's easy. It's fast and with a few apps, I've got a timer, a multi shot option, and all of the filters and photo shop that I can imagine, right at my finger tips.<br />
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I often think that I should ask my husband to give me a few classes on photography, mostly to master some of his fancy equipment. I do alright when I use his stuff. But it's intimidating. It's heavy. It's infinitely breakable. There are a thousand dials and gauges and numbers. And it scares me off. I had a couple of photo classes in high school and I'm decent with the technology, but I could be so much better. But nope, I wimp out, and go for the iPhone.<br />
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This week was <a href="http://www.flickr.com/groups/sevendays/">7 Days</a>, the summer round of the quarterly self-portrait photo group that I've been a part of for the last few years. Other like minded photographers, many of them incredibly talented and creative people, take one photo each day for 7 days, they have to set up the shot, have some part of the themselves in the shot, and then post the shot to the group for lots of commenting and sharing and general photo nerd fellowship. It's a lot of fun. And it forces creativity. It forces embarrassing looks from strangers as you take photos of yourself in public places. It forces me to look at myself and my environment differently every day. And it forces inspiration. Which is a good thing. I get inspired by the interesting and varied takes on the two themes for each session, and by the sheer number of gorgeous or funny or sweet photos that we all share. So as 7 Days comes to a close today, here are the 7 shots from my 7 days round. (All iPhone shots, of course, cause I'm a lazy little photo equipment wimp!)<br />
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<i>Day 1: I Melt with You</i><br />
<div>It's June, so it's hot. Really quite warm. And I have a love hate relationship with the heat and sun. So I'm in the shade with a time travel novel and a large iced coffee this afternoon, trying not to melt away. <span style="background-color: #ffffd3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16.890625px;"><br />
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<i>Day 2: 'Cause, Baby, You're a Firework</i></div><div>Today's theme was "Music-Inspired." I have a guilty pleasure. Belting out Katy Perry tunes while washing my hair. Don't tell anyone, ok?<br />
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<i>Day 3: Mac Puppy Dog and I are watching The Real Housewives of Orange County</i></div><div>My book club just left. We watched Life of Pi since we read the book for our last meeting. All the intensity of the movie tired us out. So now the dog and I are relaxing with horrible reality TV. Mac loves the OC ladies. Don't judge him.<br />
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<i>Day 4: Fancy Business Ladies Like Beer too</i><br />
I had a late board meeting presentation for a client tonight, (I help nonprofits with fundraising planning) in Lawrence, KS, about 45 minutes from us in Kansas City. Joe and I attended the University of Kansas there, met, became best friends, then fell in love, got smarter, etc.<br />
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So since my meeting was fairly short, he came with me and we made it a date night. Visited our old favorite places, reminisced, wandered around and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves with a late dinner at Freestate Brewery. A good meeting, a good date and a good beer.<br />
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<i>Day 6: Down by the River</i></div><div>We had a delicious dinner with friends tonight, in the coolest little downtown area of Kansas City, right near the river. I love it down here. And with cool storm clouds and shiny wet streets, I enlisted my favorite Joe Sands tripod and took a few shots running across the street and up and down the cobblestone sidewalks like a weirdo. 7 Days is always good for pushing me out of my comfort zone and reminding me that strange looks from passersby are a badge of honor in this group.<br />
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</span><i>Day 7: They're Watching You</i></div><div>This abstract print hangs in my office on the wall behind my chair. Now and then it feels like little abstract eyes are watching my back. Except then on days when my brain feels fried from too much grant writing, they look like nipples. Maybe they're supposed to be nipples? I can't tell. And that's what's fun about abstract art. Might be nipples, might be eyes. Who knows? So I leave you with that, nipples or eyes, you decide. See you this fall, gang!<br />
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</div>Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31132645.post-8750185126074397182013-06-21T17:07:00.000-05:002013-06-24T16:33:02.141-05:00Mason City and Frank Lloyd WrongBefore our visit in April, I'm not sure I could have named one reason a person would choose to make a special trip to Mason City, Iowa. Maybe your grandma lives there and makes the best cinnamon rolls in the entire state. That is a reason to go way out of your way to visit Grandma and enjoy her baked goods and some old fashioned guilt and hugs. But if your grandmother doesn't live in Mason City, I figured there was no reason to venture over to that part of the country, specifically. And that's not to defame Iowa or Mason City, just any small town in the middle of not much else that takes several hours to get to. But now I can name about fifteen pretty decent reasons to get yourself there, soon.<br />
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</span> My delightful and thoughtful in-laws gave us a gift certificate for a hotel stay in Mason City a couple of Christmases ago. That sounds sarcastic, doesn't it? Like they gave us a Holiday Inn gift card and said "get the hell out." But they gave us a gift certificate to a spectacular and quite special hotel, at least for architecture nerds like my husband, and junior architecture nerds like me, it was a night's stay at the <a href="http://www.stoneycreekinn.com/hotel/travel/masoncity-parkinn/home.do">Historic Park Inn Hotel</a>, the only remaining Frank Lloyd Wright hotel in the world. The whole world. <span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />
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So we planned a visit, and since Mason City is fairly close to Minneapolis/St. Paul, we decided to take a long weekend and visit our dear friends in St. Paul. We planned to crash at their house for several days of nonstop talking, eating, dog cuddles, city touring and general merriment. Pretty much a dream four day weekend road trip. But before we get to the late night Game of Thrones watching and intensive cake consumption and the particle physics lecture (seriously), let me give some time to Mason City. It deserves it.<br />
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</span> We drove up from Kansas City on a Thursday, and after a brief delicious sushi lunch stop in Des Moines courtesy of a Yelp recommendation, we arrived in Mason City and checked into our hotel. It was small and lovely. Full of the angles, stained glass, low ceilings and rich wood work that you can expect from FLW's early work. The hotel, and the bank and office spaces located in the building, opened in 1910. The bank went belly up in 1920, like so many banks, and shortly after that the offices closed, the hotel fell out of fashion, and things went downhill from there. Turned into retail space, offices, apartments, and finally a rather skanky flop house, the hotel was in serious disrepair when a coalition got together in 2005 to buy the building and raise the $20 million necessary for a complete restoration and renovation. It is an immaculately restored hotel, with some modifications made to please modern hotel guests, like bigger rooms, bigger bathrooms and more privacy.<br />
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The hotel is absolutely stunning, but not ostentatious. It fits into the block of shops and restaurants that it sits next to and it faces a sweet, green little park that was covered with bits of snow the whole time we were there, in APRIL. It snowed off and on during our entire trip, in mid APRIL! Ridiculous. So we arrived at the hotel, checked into our park facing room, one long wall of all windows, lots of woodwork and stained glass, and that long checked bolster pillow that I wanted to steal. I didn't. It would have been really hard to sneak out with a six foot long foam pillow. And wrong.<br />
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We had a tour scheduled at 3pm for another Frank Lloyd Wright building in the area, the <a href="http://www.stockmanhouse.org/">Stockman House</a>, so we missed the public tour that the hotel docents offer, but the hotel staff was so nice that they asked a docent to come in and give us our own private tour that evening. We had a whole hour to wander the hotel with the docent/expert. She was full of charming anecdotes and Midwestern warmth. It was so fun to wander around the small, quiet hotel and hear about all the history, touch the rich mahogany walls, peer into the old fashioned law library, and take a look at old photos from the original hotel.<br />
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She even let us into the special event space, or the section of the building that used to be a bank but now is used for banquets and weddings. It's all light creams and greens, and has a fresh modern feel, even though it was designed in the early 1900's. Even the masonry between the bricks is unique, the space between the front of the brick and the masonry is filled with small irridescent pieces of glass that catch and reflect the light in greens and yellows. It's a tiny detail, but once you notice, your eye continues to look for these little glimpses of shine and color. </div>
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It was just as good as the tour we took at the <a href="http://www.stockmanhouse.org/">Stockman House</a> and the architectural center earlier in the day. The docent at the architectural center could tell that she'd landed a couple of nerds, so she spent over two hours talking to us about all the gorgeous and prominent Prairie School houses in the area, along with the Stockman House tour itself. All in all, we got about four hours of solid architecture sight seeing, between tours and driving around the areas near the Stockman House.</div>
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We couldn't take any photos inside the house, but it has the typical open floor plan that FLW revolutionized. It really reminded me of his own home and studio in Oak Park, IL. Similar layout and use of windows, hearths and urns. Those urns are everywhere.<br />
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After all of the driving, and sight seeing and architecture, we were ready for an early dinner. We'd rather go somewhere that locals like to eat. So we checked out Yelp and the list of recommended restaurants from the hotel, and settled on the <a href="http://northwesternsteakhouse.com/">Northwestern Steak House</a>, in part because of the stellar reviews and also because it's been around since 1920, and is randomly located in the middle of a neighborhood and butts up against the local cement plant. Charming right?<br />
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It was a tiny, old school steakhouse, complete with dark old wooden booths, chatty waitresses and those tiny glasses of water that feel like you're drinking out of a shot glass. The steaks were perfect. Cooked in olive oil, butter and Greek herbs, they were mouth watering. But frankly, as good as the steaks were, the spaghetti side dish was even better. That sounds odd, right? I always think a spaghetti side dish at a steak joint is going to be watery tomato sauce and overcooked noodles. Nope. This spaghetti is perfectly al dente and the only sauce happens to be the olive oil, butter and herbs that the steak has just cooked in. To die for, I could have just eaten a big bowl of that and skipped the steak entirely. We loved the Northwestern Steak House, and I plan to try and replicate the meal at home sometime, you know, for a special occasion that warrants buttery, meaty pasta and fattening steaks! Like a Monday.<br />
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This would be founder, Tony Papouchis. </div>
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So we wrapped up our night with a trip back into the 1950's at <a href="http://globegazette.com/news/local/birdsall-s-years-of-brain-freezing-bliss/article_238f51b6-55d1-11e0-86dc-001cc4c03286.html">Birdsall's Ice Cream</a> to take home a little caramel creme for later, and then headed on our private fancy hotel tour, then crashed in our room, called Emily and Jay, our friends in Minneapolis to confirm details for the next day, and we officially spent the night in a real Frank Lloyd Wright hotel.<br />
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Joe and I have a tradition now where he gets up at some ungodly hour like 6am and runs off to take photos of something impressive. I stay at the hotel. I lounge and leisurely get dressed, watch the news, write, read. It's a perfect tradition. And he usually brings coffee and breakfast. This time we had the finest pastry and coffee from <a href="https://www.facebook.com/CoffeeCatMasonCity">Coffee Cat</a> in Mason City. Because it was vacation, why not share a peanut butter cup brownie and a cinnamon coffee cake slice for breakfast? My honey hazelnut latte was tasty.<br />
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So there's about 15 reasons to visit Mason City.<br />
1. Friendly hotel staff that have well manicured nails<br />
2. Historic lovely hotel that no longer looks like a skanky 1970's flop house<br />
3. Enormous velvety pillows that you should refrain from pilfering<br />
4. Amazing architecture from early Prairie School designs<br />
5. Pastries for breakfast<br />
6. Old school Greek steakhouses with oil portraits over the cash register<br />
7. Kind tour guides willing to talk and talk and answer every question<br />
8. Gracious Midwestern folks<br />
9. Honey Hazelnut lattes from Coffee Cat<br />
10. King size beds with soft linens and plenty of blankets for the shitty April snow storms<br />
11. Birdsall's taking you back to the 1950's<br />
12. Frank Lloyd Wright everywhere<br />
13. The relaxing, slower pace of a small town<br />
14. The gorgeous details that the eccentric nut bag FLW carefully placed in every one of his spaces<br />
15. And most importantly, that amazing butter, olive oil, steak and herb spaghetti.<br />
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We hit the road Friday morning by 10am, waving goodbye to Mason City, and hello to the Twin Cities and further northern adventures. And probably more pastries, if I had anything to do with it. But wait for the next installment when we get to theoretical physics, more cake, Game of Thrones and the friendliest, humpiest puppy dog in the entire state of Minnesota. Plus the legendary Al's. Wait for it!<br />
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Kassiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15666684690537983937noreply@blogger.com4