There were three in the bed...

I’m not really sure, but I think that Razor may be spending part of the day while she’s home alone reading my blog. This is surprising to me for a number of reasons. 1) I didn’t think she knew how to read. 2) The computer has never really interested her, at least while we are home. 3) She has never left any comments. 4) I was pretty sure she spent the entire day sleeping.

But I really think she must have read this post in particular. Because a few nights ago she decided to sleep on the edge of the bed instead of between Marty and I. This sort of worked, except then she was the one falling off the bed in the night. And then she’d cry until I woke up enough to invite her back on the bed (I trained her to not get on furniture unless she’s invited, and she’s translated that to the bed too). The next night, again, she was sleeping on the outside—until I got too hot and crowded in the middle and left the bed for the couch. Razor followed me to the couch and slept at my feet (she is afterall a Mama's girl). But the next night, that was good. That night, she slept at my feet in bed (see schematic, also, notice my new pjs). And all three of us had plenty of room and no one fell off!

Clearly, she read my blog and was using her little doggie problem solving skills to help Mama sleep at night.

Mmmmm. Half & Half—Good! (and other stuff)

The other day I got some strawberries. And then I happened to noticed that the half & half was on sale. Hmmm. I like strawberries and half & half. It didn’t take Marty and I long to decide that nearly everything tastes yummy with half and half. My strawberries, yum. Marty’s coffee, yum. Added in combination with milk to instant pudding, yum, yum, yum. By the time we’d finished that quart it seemed that half & half was a staple in our diets.

Next yummy thing. I was remembering the Sunday night popcorn tradition that had its heyday in the Williamsville era. Soon I was thinking about peanut butter popcorn. But mom didn’t have the recipe. I consulted the wisdom of the Internet, and found a recipe that seemed OK. Last night I tried it. Good! So for those who are interested: ½ c. sugar, ½ c. light corn syrup, ½ c. creamy peanut butter, 1 tsp. vanilla. In a saucepan heat sugar, corn syrup and peanut butter until smooth and close to boil. Remove from heat and add vanilla. Pour over 6 c. popped popcorn. Enjoy! No, it’s not really a healthy snack, but it’s yummy.

Finally, this has nothing to do with food. For those who were at the Burton, OH Henrichsen Christmas Holiday, you may remember the boxes I gave to the kids. For those who weren’t there—Here’s what I did: for each niece and nephew who was there I had a little plastic treasure box with his or her name on it. To fill the boxes I spent a lot of time in the dollar store. A few months ago I got this thank you note. I thought it was too cute not to share. (Zac got a cd computer game as part of his treasure box gift.)

I want a baby....sort of

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. TICK. Yes. I think that’s my biological clock. I’ve found lately I’m spending more and more time thinking about babies and adding one to our family.

At the same time I’m also completely terrified of the same thing. I’m terrified of pregnancy and the morning sickness, the indigestion, the hormones, the surrendering of my entire body to the being inside me. I've been a witness to too many conversations where the appropriate response to the "I'm pregnant" announcement was a pitying and knowing, "Oh. I'm sorry." And then there’s the getting un-pregnant part. Spending too much time thinking about that makes me want to go to the darkest corner of my closet and curl up in the fetal position (ironic?). And supposing I make it through the pregnancy and the delivery, then there’s the reality of taking care of this new little person. What if I completely mess up? I’m good at being an aunt, but I’m also good at giving the kids back to their parents.

Then there’s the logistics of it all. How could we afford a baby? Shouldn’t we pay down more of our debts before we add to the mouths we have to feed? I’ve been astounded as I’ve heard what people around here pay for daycare on a monthly basis. But I don’t want to send my baby to daycare. I want to be home with her (or him). But I can’t not work. Not now. That’s how we have our health insurance that would cover the cost of the pregnancy and the doctors visits for our sweet baby. Not to mention that my working is how we pay for our groceries and rent and just about every other expense we have.

I can’t think of anything else that has so terrified me before. I’ve been nervous or anxious about lots of things, but this is different. This SCARES me. And yet that biological clock is relentless in its constant ticking. (Doesn't this clock have a snooze button?)

E-mail

The other day Marty and I had this email exchange (I start by forwarding an invitation to him):

Peanut: Is this something you'd have any interest in? Just wondering.

XOXO

Wife

Marty: Hell Wife,

Yes, that sounds fun to me. I love you too!

Husband

Peanut: Read your email again, and tell me if you see anything funny in it? I'm still laughing! :)

Marty: o

Peanut: :) The "o" was just running late I guess. Got caught up in a meeting.

Brokeback Society

Last week I saw Brokeback Mountain. I liked it a lot. (I’m not sure I’d say that it was robbed of the Best Picture Oscar because I also really liked Crash). Anyway.

The movie did a good job of portraying the emotional toll the situation had on all parties involved. I felt Alma’s pain as she came to realize the truth about Ennis and Jack’s relationship and what that meant for her marriage. My heart ached for Ennis and his desire to suppress his feelings for Jack because of the social consequences of being gay and for Jack as he longed to be true to himself and his feelings but respected Ennis’s reservations.

I found myself wishing that things could be different. That there could be a “happily ever after.” The “answer” that I came up with is that they needed, and we need, a more tolerant society. But I’m somewhat conflicted on what a more tolerant society would actually entail.

Also last week a group called Soulforce rolled into Provo, UT—BYU campus. Their purpose: “to tell Brigham Young University that their anti-gay policies, based on Mormon beliefs, cause GLBT suffering.” (GLBT=Gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender)

As a result of one of their demonstrations 24 people, including some BYU students, were issued citations for trespassing and escorted off campus. (BYU allowed the group onto campus, but gave them strict guidelines. When these guidelines were not followed, citations were issued.)

I understand that BYU is a private institution that is run by the LDS Church, and the rules and policies tend to reflect the standards of the Church. President of the Church Gordon B. Hinckley said, “People inquire about our position on those who consider themselves so-called gays and lesbians. My response is that we love them as sons and daughters of God. They may have certain inclinations which are powerful and which may be difficult to control. Most people have inclinations of one kind or another at various times. If they do not act upon these inclinations, then they can go forward as do all other members of the Church. If they violate the law of chastity and the moral standards of the Church, then they are subject to the discipline of the Church, just as others are.” There seems to be a line drawn between inclinations and actions. Fine.

But I think that the Mormon culture at large can be pretty insensitive. And yes, I think that BYU’s policies may “cause GLBT suffering.” The BYU Honor Code says, “Advocacy of a homosexual lifestyle (whether implied or explicit) or any behaviors that indicate homosexual conduct, including those not sexual in nature, are inappropriate and violate the Honor Code. Violations of the Honor Code may result in actions up to and including separation from the University.” The wording of this is broad enough that I think this goes beyond delineating action v. inclination.

Going back to my “answer” of needing a more tolerant society. Should the Church be expected to change its definition of sin, or call evil good? I don’t think so. But I’m not sure what support we offer those in our own ranks who have not crossed the inclination-action line. How much do we alienate these individuals? Do we basically have a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy? How much gay bashing and bigoted attitudes do these individuals encounter in our culture, not because they are openly gay, but because that bias is a part of our culture? That just doesn’t seem right to me.

I don’t know the answers. I know this is a hot and controversial topic. And I hope I haven’t offended anyone. But these things have been on my mind.

So they all rolled over and one fell out....

I've come to a conclusion--our bed is too small.

We just don't seem to fit, or rather, I don't seem to fit. (See schematic.)

Marty's big. I understand that he needs more bed space than I do. And Razor insists on being in the middle. And for some reason the space left for me always seems to leave me half off.

The other night Marty rolled over (toward my side). So Razor adjusted. But this left me with approximately 2 inches. I declared my dissatisfaction and demanded more bed. It was the middle of the night. I'd just been awakened by nearly getting pushed off the bed, so I may have come off as a little cranky. But I did end up with more space--mission accomplished.

A few hours later I was doing some tossing and turning of my own.

-->>BAM!<<--

"What's wrong?!? First you yell at me, now you're punching me!?" I had swung my arm and elbowed Marty in the eye.

Oops. Sorry.

See? Our bed is too small.

*************************

In the interest of full disclosure, I will tell you that Marty objects to the above schematic, not because he doesn't like my smashing representation of us in our pajamas, but because he claims that a more accurate picture would show him half off his side of the bed with Razor sprawled out over the entire thing.

I like dogs

This morning I took Razor to the vet. She liked the car ride, but wasn't really into the whole visit with the vet. She liked meeting new people, but really would have preferred to have met them out in her yard rather than in the exam room. She was offered treats by both the technician and the vet, but she refused to acknowledge that the treats were of any value to her until we were back in our living room and she tossed them around a few times playfully before devouring them. Other than that it was pretty uneventful.

Heartworm test? Check. Vaccinations? Check. Heartworm, flea, and tick treatments? Check.

I left the vet $100+ poorer. And to some extent I'm amazed at how much it all costs. But when I think about what my pets have brought to my life, I think it's all worth it.



I think about Pogo and how he'd sleep all day, but he knew when it was time to get up and wait by the door for us kids to come home from school. Or there were the times that Pogo desperately wanted to be with the family at the top of the stairs for family prayer. I even think fondly on the time when he was feeling sick to his stomach and decided he should go lie down--in my bed. And I don't think any of us have ever had any regrets about choosing Pogo's intestinal surgery over Christmas.

And Razor is such a sweetheart! Even Anita called her a "charmer." When Anita told the kids that Aunt Sonnet was going to come for a visit, the first question was, "Is Razor coming too?" As I sit here typing I'm a little lonely because Razor has gone with Marty on a day hike. So I don't have her here sleeping on my feet. I don't know if Razor would be able to drag me from the car to safety, but when we drove to Arizona last summer she definitely seemed to think that protecting me while I slept for a few minutes was her responsibility.

Not too long after we got him, I remember asking Mom if she liked Pogo. "I like the effect he's had on the family." Me too.

So much for being a Night Owl

One of things I like about my job is that I don’t have fixed hours. I can start at 8, 9, 10, whenever. But for the past couple weeks I’ve been starting around 7:30. AM. Am I crazy? Sick? Possessed? Pregnant? No. No. No. No. (I threw that last one in just for the heck of it!)

But I do have a new carpool buddy. And this carpool buddy is an eight to fiver. So now instead of waking up whenever I wake up and making my way to work, I get up at what sometimes feels like the middle of the night to get ready and be out the door by 7:00.

You may be thinking, “That’s a major life change just for a carpool.” And you’d be right. But here’s the thing—I’m married to my carpool buddy. So it’s worth it.

Marty works a few miles past where I do, so it just made sense for us to start riding together. (He is the office manager/HR assistant at a local non-profit organization.) My body still isn’t quite used to the change in schedule. Every morning when the alarm on his phone sounds (a distinctive ring), I secretly hope that he’s changed the ring tones around and it’s just someone calling him in the middle of the night—meaning I can keep sleeping. No such luck.

Though my body isn’t quite used to the change in schedule, I have definitely gotten used to the extra few minutes alone in the car together as we go to and from work. Last week I had a one-day conference at one of the local universities. We didn’t ride together that day. As I drove to the conference and back home I was amazed at how lonely I felt and how much I’ve come to look forward to our drive to and from work together. Marty said the same thing when I got home.



(This picture was the only picture my thesis advisor could scrounge up to show at my defense.)

On walking through walls

I still can't do it. Doesn't keep me from trying. Just in case.