Flora and Fauna

I was driving my car down Main Street to pick up my sister for our weekly date.  Something like this:

I stopped at a red light and picked up an unexpected passenger.  He looked something like this:

Actually, I think that Mantis is a girl.  You can tell by the delicate ankles.  *grin*  It landed on the windshield, swayed a little from the impact, and then hunkered down.  I pointed it out to my daughter who was in the car with me and we shared a little laugh.

Then the light turned green and we sped away.  Always obeying traffic laws, of course.  That little passenger must have had somewhere specific it was trying to go, because it stuck to my windshield like I was taking it to a cricket breeding ground where it would be crowned king, or queen, and be fed willing sacrifices for the rest of eternity.  Little Mantis lost ground a couple of times, sliding around corners or when I stopped, but it did not let go.

I carried that passenger for almost a mile before it found its happy hunting grounds.

A week later, another Praying Mantis stuck itself to my car.  No lie.

My daughter was again in the car with me when I pointed to the second passenger and said, "No way!"

She watched its precarious position with me for a few blocks before saying, "Mom, you know why they like our car don't you?"

"Uh..." I said, because I'm intelligent.

"Because it's a Leaf!"

Sinks Are Sexy

That tiny little picture is the joy of my life right now.  Yes, the kitchen sink.

Since we moved, and unpacked all the many, many boxes of books, we have been fixing up the apartment we now inhabit.  There was no kitchen, so my not-so-handy husband installed cabinets, an oven, a hot water heater, a dishwasher, and lastly, a kitchen sink with a disposal.  It even has running water! (I must insert here, that he didn't do it alone.  We had many friends and family that helped him.  But he did most of it himself.  Maybe this is TMI, but it was sexy watching him. *shrug*  I'm just saying.)

So, after two weeks of not having a kitchen, we now have a kitchen!  That works! It's a thrill every time I turn on the faucet.  I've never known quite how soothing the sound of a dishwasher is.  The first time we turned it on, I almost fell asleep with my head on the countertop and a weird smile pasted on my face.

A working kitchen is a wonderful, beautiful thing, my friends.  Wonderful.  And Beautiful.  Even when it's not clean, as mine is now.  The wonder comes because I can go turn on the sink, wet the rag, and wash dishes or wipe the countertop or mop the floor!  All without having the haul the water in or the dishes out. (Before the sink, I either took the dirty dishes upstairs to my in-laws kitchen, or to the bathroom sink.  So, I didn't have things too badly.  We did have running water elsewhere.  That fact doesn't lessen the joy now.)

So, the next time you get yourself a drink of water, or wash your hands, or put a dirty bowl in the sink, take a moment to appreciate what you have there.

I Like To Move It, Move It.

We're moving this week, so even though I have some spare time, it doesn't feel like it.  My whole brain is taken up with cleaning and boxing and plans.

We're moving from a four bedroom house that's a perfect fit for our family, to another two bedroom apartment.  Well, two and a half, as my daughter pointed out.  I think this temporary step backwards is a smart financial decision before buying/building a house, so I'll keep that in mind as I clean and box and plan.  This is smart.  This is smart.

That being said, I have to go clean.  Then box.

And while I sighed as I wrote that, I really do like to de-junk everything.  It's kind of liberating.

Snacking After Dark

After all the kids are in their rooms for the night, I sometimes like to treat myself to a little snack.  I got out the bin of fancy nuts from Costco.  You know the kind: these nuts are way to proud to be caught with a peanut.  Peanuts are an embarrassing cousin the cashews and almonds pretend they don't know.

My husband came downstairs and caught me rummaging through the nuts looking for my favorites.  I found one and triumphantly popped it into my mouth.  "I love Brazil nuts."  I chewed.  "You know, in Brazil, they just call them nuts."

My husband replied, "I think they just call them Mandi."

I showed him my offended face which he missed because he was opening a package of store-bought cookies.  He crammed a whole one into his mouth while I watched, hoping he was noticing my offended face.  That offended face was difficult to keep in place since I just wanted to find another nut. My husband chewed his cookie, then picked up the package to read the ingredients.

"These cookies taste like toxic waste.  There's not one natural ingredient in them."  He popped another in his mouth.  "They're delicious."

Offended face and nuts were forgotten as I giggled.  My husband really is hilarious.

Trapped

California is a place full of good smells and bad, overly-fit and fat people in tiny clothes, and long, long lines.  At least in my experience.

Last week we took our kids to Legoland.  We’ve heard from numerous sources that Legoland is a fantastic place to take children twelve and under.  That’s about accurate, even if the adults accompanying those twelve-and-youngers are bored.  

The weather was perfect: warm sunshine and a cool breeze.  The whole park smelled of flowers and fried food.  We got there early enough that the lines weren’t outrageous for a couple of hours.  The cities made of Lego were interesting.  Most of the rides were small kid-friendly, and adult eye-rolling. 

Then our youngest child saw a roller coaster.  He had to go!  Please! Please! Please! By this time the lines had grown to four times their previous size.  While waiting and waiting for our turn on “The Dragon”, our youngest put his hand on the railing behind him while looking elsewhere.  As his hand was unattended, someone behind us in line sat on it.  The sitting man’s tush completely covered our son’s hand, and our son (being a more than usual ham) started trying theatrically to pull it out.  “Mom!  Mom!  Look!” he yelled.

I started laughing uncontrollably, tears running down my face, the other kids were looking around trying to figure out if this was funny or embarrassing.  My husband offered suggestions for freeing our son’s hand in between laughs.  Through all that, our youngest just kept tugging.

Either that man was deaf (which I doubt since he was talking the whole time), or he has a medical condition in his tush where he cannot feel it when he sits on something that moves.   Finally, our son freed his hand, and the man who sat on it continued on, oblivious that he had done anything out of the ordinary.

Along with all the other recommendations for Legoland you’ll find out there, let me put in this one: Look for a hispanic man in a pink tee-shirt and stonewash jeans.  If you find him, slap him on the behind for us.  Thanks.

I'm a Gold-Star Student

I found out today the grade I achieved in the BYU Independent Study course I was taking.  I was really nervous about the final because the professor seems to delight in trick questions, and I'm not good at riddles.  But I managed an A in the first college class I've taken in 14 years.  *Big sigh*   I'm just so relieved.

_____


Next:

This is what I saw on my jog.  Deer in a meadow surrounded by mountains.  I live in a beautiful place.  It's just hard to remember that sometimes because I'd rather live somewhere else, but I've got my happy face on today.  (If you've ever seen "Strictly Ballroom" you'll appreciate that reference. A big fake smile shiny with tears.  Love.)

I hope you all have on your happy faces.  Without the tears.

Big, Bigger, Biggest

My husband recently got an iPhone 6 plus.  For those of you out there who are unfamiliar with this phenomenon frequently known to engulf the whole side of a face, here's a picture:

The 6 plus is the biggest one; the one trying to eat the banana.  I can't even tell you the many, many times my husband has come home with a new gadget that was nearly microscopic, and he would go on about how much he loved its sleekness and design and tiny-ness.  So, when he brought home a phone the size of our couch, you'll understand that I was rightly surprised.  I imagined him putting it in his car in Fred Flintstone style and watching them tip to the side.

His reasoning was that he hardly ever uses his phone as a phone, but almost always uses it as a handheld computer.  In that way, a larger (huge) screen would come in handy.  I laughed and let his phone join the family as our biggest child.

He asked if I wanted his old phone because that would still be an upgrade for me.  I told him no, thank you.  I like my old, small phone that fits in my pocket without pulling down my pants.

Now, every time he has reason to use my phone he comments on how tiny it is in the same voice I usually reserve for babies, and the longing in his voice is heard by more than myself.