Rowan's new Freecycle Tricycle!

Rowan's new Freecycle Tricycle!, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

A friend suggested joining Freecycle to look for a piano. I've just gotten started, but it's a really wonderful service. When a neighbor put a perfectly good mountain bike next to the trash, I listed it and it was taken hours later with a nice thank you. I just *hate* seeing perfectly good stuff go into the landfill, so this service is really fabulous.

The other day I was looking at trikes for her. She's ready. Her own little scooter is too small, and she's growing up fast. I thought it was worth asking, and lo and behold--look what we got! Less than a week later, a practically brand new trike--probably the one I would have bought anyway (it's still listed on Amazon) and in fantastic condition, not a scratch. For free. LOVE it. So thanks to Barb from Bellefonte--Rowan is thrilled with her new Big Girl Trike!

Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day

Magnolias are starting to bloom!, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

We had two gorgeous days this weekend--65-70F, sunny, neighbors out and chatting, and things were really looking up. Everyone was in a great mood. We ate on the patio, walked the dog without our jackets, and played in the sandbox. It was lovely.

Today was not gorgeous. Cool, cloudy, rainy, and one of those days where everything that could possibly be annoying just was. Rowan wanted to eat constantly all day long, except when I made actual food. Money is tighter than we'd like it and there are more zits on my chin than ever!!! Things that had been taken care of weren't, glitches happened, and someone forgot to refill the TP. Facebook was full of complaints about politics and THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT OMG, the yogurt soured, the projects I wanted to complete got waylaid and Dr. B didn't make it home in time for dinner that looked horrible but tasted good, even though Rowan wouldn't eat it although she wanted a PB&J and apples and applesauce and crackers. The laundry still isn't put away.

But, I'm trying really hard to look on the bright side. The magnolia tree on the next block is blooming, and Rowan thinks they "feel like socks!" God bless her, she was in a great mood even when her mother wasn't. I can look down and watch my stomach moving like dolphins surfacing. (Or sharks. Nope, looking on the bright side. Going with dolphins.) I have a lunch date with a friend after my doc appointment tomorrow, and am picking up a free tricycle from our local Freecycle. I goofed around with my template again and the new Draft Blogger tool thingee is much easier to use. Still not perfect, but more interesting, I hope. (Do you like it?)

Spring is coming, things are getting done, and progress is being made. Not always easy to see that through this flurry of hormones, but I'm trying.

French pj's are so cute, wear them as clothes!

French pj's are so cute, wear as clothes!, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

When we were in Paris last May, Aimee got us into the Message group's annual brocante (tag sale) early by manning the snacks table, and they let me in on her say so. This allowed me to scope out the cute stuff and score several darling dresses, books, and this little outfit for Rowan to bring back to the US. It was too big last year, but when I heard 70 degrees predicted for today, I knew it was the perfect time to break it out. A Japanese print on a delicate cotton lawn, with tulip cuffs and contrasting borders, it's absolutely adorable.

As she "swam" in the bathtub, I read the tag. It's pajamas. No Dora the Explorer--French jammies are gorgeous.

Pbft. Who cares? It's darling, and it's her favorite color.

Sigh. I miss France.



*PS I am not sure what is up with the goofy faces whenever a camera is present. I hope this is just a phase.

UPDATE: on a walk, she tripped in the grass and tore a hole in the knee and grass stained them pretty badly. Really delicate fabric. Darn it.

I had a good idea.

S'mores are pretty good, but they're too messy and a tish too airy for me. I like something a bit more substantial with my sugar and fat. Years ago, I tried to perfect the perfect S'mores Brownie. I failed miserably. The graham cracker crust was never anything but dry, the browned top I wanted meant the brownie itself was too dry or else I overcompensated and it was undercooked, and I couldn't come up with a way to get everything I wanted all at the same time.

I went to this site the other day, and came upon a great method while reading the reviews. It totally worked and the brownies are awesome and were super easy.

Here's the method I used. It's not that site's version exactly, but it's pretty darn easy. You can adapt it to any size pan and you can use your own homemade brownies or cheat with a box like I did.  Excuse the photo--it's from my phone. As you can see, I've sampled them already.

S'mores Brownies

• your favorite brownie mix or recipe, prepared according to directions (with eggs, oil, water or coffee, etc.)
• mini marshmallows
• chocolate bars, broken, or chocolate chips
• graham crackers, crumbled

Preheat your oven and spray your pan with cooking spray or grease as you like. Pour in your batter and smooth. Bake as long as the box (or your recipe) tells you MINUS 5 minutes.

Remove the pan from the oven. Sprinkle with handfuls of marshmallows until it's mostly covered. Sprinkle with chocolate and graham cracker pieces. Return to oven for last 5 minutes until the marshmallows are puffed and gooey and the chocolate starts to melt a little.

Wait a while before cutting unless you like it a gooey mess. (It's good either way. The gooey mess version would be great with ice cream.) The marshmallows will stay fairly gooey even when it's cool. They aren't browned like the perfect campfire marshmallow, but you won't smell like woodsmoke all day either--it's a trade-off.

Yum.

I do not have the skills.

Bleh.

Hate this template. Super bored with my old one. No abilities to make a new one worth a darn. Not enough readership to justify plunking down a chunk of change for a pro to do one, either (as evidenced by my paltry ad checks that show up about twice a year).

I don't even have photoshop, much less know how to use it, and I am really quite lost. This is what I've done for tonight. I guess you could say it's a little bit of nesting. I want it to look fantastic, but really am stuck in 1998 when it comes to web design. Blogger doesn't make it exactly easy to make it look good (you can change it, but only within their parameters), and I don't have the energy to figure out switching everything to a different site at the moment. So there you go.

If the template fairy wants to show up, she'll be welcome. For now, I'm going to eat another S'mores Brownie and then go to bed.

I love this.

The arm swoop, the "actions", and especially the strut off stage at the end--it will be stuck in my head for months.

I think I'm going to download the ringtone.

Yes, I grew up in North Dakota. Loving the Lawrence Welk style is in my blood--even if it is Soviet Russian Cheez.

Girlie Girl

Shoe shopping partner, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

She loves to wear dresses while she plays trains and cars. She tromps through the mud in her pink tights. Rarely leaves the house without a necklace or bracelet, but runs faster than the boys and hasn't met a jungle gym she can't conquer, even at 2 3/4.

The day I snapped this shot with my phone, we spent quite a bit of time shoe shopping, just for fun. She loves red heels, just like I do. (I would have bought these, but they were too big for both of us.) We giggled and pranced in the isles of Ross, trying on silly shoes we didn't need just because it was fun and they were really inexpensive, anyway.

I am so proud of my little girl. She is her Grandma Judeen's granddaughter. I have no doubt that she, too, will be bailing hay in a miniskirt or stomping across the cow pasture without looking down, perfectly accessorized.

Hard Working Man

12/365, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

This is a normal sight at our house. My husband, at work. He's definitely not one to leave it at the office. Relaxing just isn't in his blood. He cannot do something halfway, and doesn't understand how anyone else can, either. When he doesn't have anything to do, he goes and learns something. Like one of 5 programming languages he taught himself in the 90's. How to repair his own bike. How to build a computer. How to speak French. Extensive reading on Buddhist philosophy. Sailing in the 1800's. Sci Fi. Or changing his career path entirely, from Art (Yes, Art!!!) to Geology and Mineralogy to Geomicrobiology to Environmental Chemistry and Technology to Nanotechnology to Thinfilms to Solar Technology to Materials Science to Architecture and Sustainability to who knows what.

And he doesn't stop there. He not only learned French, he worked to get us a position there so I would be able to realize my dream of living in France one day. And now, he wants to find a way to go back.

A vacation for him is not laying on a beach with a beer. (Though he'd happily walk through a museum with a beer.) On our honeymoon in New Orleans, he went to every museum there was. Thankfully, we're well matched. I love that, too.

He's kind of maxed out on the academics--though I guess he could get a second PhD (don't tell him, please!) As a professor, he's constantly busy teaching, recruiting, researching, mentoring, leading a solar decathlon team, and now heading up an entirely new degree program. He's not tenure-track, but even if he was and got it, he said he wouldn't change a thing. It's who he is. The idea of taking it easy just isn't a part of his DNA. He can't not do his best. I love that about him. I love how hard he works, both for his calling's sake and for his family's sake. I love that when he believes in something, it is with every fiber of his being. I love his devotion.

This week, he figured something out. For the first time in 36+ years, he's bored.

Heaven help us.

Budding Foodie

I rushed to prepare dinner while getting ready for my rehearsal afterward. Dr. B walked in just as I loaded the plates, and we sat down to eat. She refused to come to the table, but rather than be late for Choir, I ate and ignored her. "I'll take care of her," he said. "She'll eat. I think she's..." he began to whisper, "pooping." (The potty training is still hit or miss, and the misses are often the messy type.)

I ran upstairs to change my shirt, and heard her sitting down at the table and pick up her fork. As I searched for another top to wear, she exclaimed, "Wow! Yum! This is yummy!" Hmmm... I wonder if she likes the garlic mashed potatoes? I zipped up my boots, and headed down to grab my choir folder. Maybe it's the pork chops with Roasted Garlic Rub and Dijon mustard and brown sugar glaze?

"I never had this before!!!" she said, gleefully, as she leaned over her plate, shoveling food quickly into her mouth.

I walked into the kitchen, smiling and proud of my culinary triumph. She loved it! Something I made was a huge success with my darling daughter. I took a quick look at her sectioned, plastic plate to see what had been such a coup.

Corn and Peas, mixed and boiled. With some butter.

"Hello, Food Network? Yeah, cancel that Toddler Tidbits idea. She's definitely not ready for prime time quite yet."

Spammed

I got hit with some sort of stupid bot last night writing in some sort of Asian characters that I don't read and leaving a lot of links in the comments. PLEASE DON'T CLICK THEM. Of course, this happens on the morning when I don't have time to go in and fix it all right away.

When I get back from the Valentine's Party, I'll go fix it, but I have also had to turn on comment moderation. Ugh. Why this could not have happened after my first cup of coffee, I do not know. Stupid bots.

Happy Friday, nonetheless.

Treasure Box

Treasure Box Diptych, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

We spent an hour or so flipping through magazines, finding most of her "favorite FAVORITE!!!" things in Martha Stewart Living. She chose crayons, a cat, a dog, lots of roses (purple are her mom's favorite), oranges, pots and pans, ballet shoes, an Eiffel Tower, a Sophie La Giraffe, presents, "bling", a girl with a lollipop, a mommy and daddy, tomatoes, fruit, multigrain bread, glass cake stands (they were very pretty, I have to give her that), and even a cupcake. She was very particular with each choice, rejecting the white bread and raisin bread, saying no to the orange roses, and turning down the chocolates (I do NOT know why.) I trimmed all the pieces, and we sat down after supper to apply them to the sturdy box I'd saved from a gift. I finished it after she'd gone to bed with a few extra coats of Mod Podge to protect it for her.

She now has a special box, just for her special little things. Little does she know how much of a treasure the experience was for me.

5/365

5/365, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

I guess her growth spurt is over--she's no longer eating much, so I'm getting more creative with what I feed her. Today, I turned her blueberries and yogurt into a smoothie. She liked it. (But she still didn't eat much.)

Note: more 365 photos are on my flickr site.

iPhoto thinks it's smarter than me.

I went to clean up. Tons of extra folders were created when I uploaded pics to flickr and Facebook, so being a typical Norwegian, I went to throw out the folders I didn't need. After all, the photos are still there, right? Why have duplicates?

Well, apparently, iPhoto now has a special relationship with Flickr and Facebook, and when you do this, it deletes them off the sites you loaded them on.

Stupid. Argh!

So I am busy reloading everything, but all the comments are gone and the links are likely broken, so sorry. At least it's only a month's worth.

Sigh. I feel like yelling at someone to get off my lawn.

2/365*

2/365, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

Every afternoon, Rowan and I walk Lucy. In the summer, we usually walk a mile and a half, but in the winter (and especially since she's insisted on walking rather than riding in the stroller), I cut it to a mile. Lucy needs it--she won't do her job near her house, and insists on 3 walks per day, every day. Our walk time varies, sometimes right after lunch, sometimes after Rowan's nap, but it's not skippable, no matter how bad the weather.

The last few days have been pretty cold, in the 20's F (-7C) with a brisk wind, so the walks haven't been as leisurely as usual. We've been sneaking back to take this shortcut behind some townhomes to get out of the wind on the way home.

The tree line that was here likely was part of an old farm, as the trees had barbed wire embedded in them. I guess they were rotten, and the city is cutting them down. It's hard to see them go, and it really changes the landscape. I'm really hoping the rot didn't spread further down the line to nearer our home. The trees are part of the reason I like the area so much.


*Craptastic photo today, I know. But it's what I saw.

1/365. Maybe.

Sadness, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

My friend challenged me to do the 365 project. She keeps bugging me about it.

So I'm not saying yes, and I'm not saying no. But I'll try. And it will get me blogging more, which is a side benefit, I guess.

This is day 1. I love it because the emotion on her face is so poignant. She didn't want me to take the picture, she asked politely, and I still did. She looks so sad and disappointed in me.

We were having a snack of raspberry sherbet and graham crackers to celebrate day 2 of demon child disappearing. I don't know if it was a developmental stage, being fed up with potty training, or a growth spurt (which was part of it, I'm pretty sure), but for a week or two my child had been replaced by a hellcat. I was ready to lose my marbles. Most days consisted of lots of frustration, yelling, and tears, from both of us. It was bizarre--almost like being in an abusive situation, because I never knew what was going to set her off. I walked on eggshells.

Then all of a sudden, she woke up and was back to her old self. I barely dared mention it in my constant updates on Facebook for fear it would end. But today, she was herself again. Kind, sweet, polite, happy, excited by little things like hot Vanilla Silk with a candy cane stirrer after a cold, blustery walk with Lucy.

The relief was overwhelming. I know I am lucky--some kids are that way all the time. But man, I am not cut out for dealing with that. If it's a job, you can quit. If it's a friend or partner, you can end the relationship. But if it's your 2 year old daughter? You have to deal. I don't know how to deal. I am so thankful that my prayers were answered.

A moment after this was shot, when I set down the camera, she was smiling again. Thank you.

Valentine's Centerpiece

I try to make it a Monday tradition to clean my table of everything except some sort of linen and a centerpiece, whether it's flowers, weeds we picked on our daily walks stuffed in a crystal vase, a bowl of apples, or even just a candle. It helps me start the week fresh, feeling ready, and if I didn't do it, my table would never be cleaned off. It's big enough to just push stuff out of the way and eat dinner, and my husband, though he'd like to be thought of as "spartan", is a clutter collector extraordinaire. I admit to contributing, but I try to keep organized. It goes in spurts.

These are Wonka SweetTarts, one of my favorite Valentine candies, along with Dove chocolate hearts. These are also great, because eating more than a few makes my mouth hurt with the acid, so I can't overindulge. I don't like the blue ones (fruit punch?), but I still eat them. The hurricane I got at Walmart for about 3 bucks after seeing a similar, larger one in Pottery Barn for 60 and thinking that was absolutely ridiculous. The candle is just an unscented pillar from Target.

And yes, it is possible to sneak a few candies while it's burning, but I'm pretty sure you burn off the calories with the whole "fear of burning off your arm hair" thing.

Trying to get over it.

I have an awesome new camera. And it has intimidated the heck out of me. Now, I have an awesome new laptop. So yeah, the problem is with me and taking the time to learn the new technology. But, I've bit the bullet and begun. It's not perfect or amazing yet, but at least I've started. I'm giving myself credit for taking the leap. (Yes, credit involves chocolate. Of course.)

So here's a little slideshow of some of my favorite Christmas photos. In this set, you'll see lots of Rowan, both sets of grandparents, and very little of me. One may not be available, because it's an absolutely adorable bath photo, but if you're a friend I've approved on flickr, you can go see it there. Trying to keep her nakedness private, just in case. (But it is a darn cute little bathtub smile.)

Enjoy!

22.5 weeks

Unfortunately, the new camera doesn't have a "no zits and make my arm skinny" button.

So this is the bump. Unfortunately, what I can feel of Bootsie only takes up about 1/4 of the bottom. Hopefully the rest of it isn't peanut butter M&M's, but I make no guarantees. We had a doctor appointment about an hour after this was taken, and he described her as a "very active baby!" 156 heart beats per minute for our little girl, growing at the expected rate. (As am I. I am up about 6 lbs.). No problems with her, none with me. Everything is going swimmingly, and despite all the warnings about being pregnant while chasing a toddler, this time I've found it much easier. I'm no longer a substitute teacher running all over town, and I have 2 good legs. Having a torn ACL and meniscus and undergoing surgery while pregnant is not something I'd recommend to anyone.

Bootsie apparently is going to be a woodwind player. During rehearsal, she goes bananas during sax or clarinet solos. We might just have a jazzer on our hands. And when I contract my abs to support my tone, she relaxes, just like her sister did. I've given notice that I won't be at the May concert, but plan to make it through February. After that, we'll see. Unless he wants me to conduct, of course.*




*After plenty of nagging from me, our director allowed me to conduct the band. Then he and the band saw that I can really do it well. I was the first woman to conduct the State College Area Municipal Band in concert, ever. I don't plan on that being a one-time thing.

OK, this time it's for real.

I've been trying. Really. For months. Hoping, praying, begging. Cajoling, rewarding, enticing, encouraging.

Yelling.

Of course, it wasn't working. She didn't want to be potty trained. And she screamed whenever we had to wipe her poopy areas, screamed like we were killing her. Boy, that feels great, let me tell you. And diapers. Cloth, paper, pee, poop--I know there's more coming, but frankly, I'd love a little break before that happens.

So.

Christmas is over, the family has left. She's gotten the concept that she's going to be a big sister (though sometimes she seems to think the baby will come out and be older than her. We are working on this.) She's excited.

She finally wants to be A Big Girl.

Yesterday, I did what I always do. "Rowan, do you want to try sitting on the potty?"

"NOOOOOOO!!!!!" (If she could breathe fire, this would be one instance where you'd have seen it.)

And that was it. The straw that broke the camel's back.

"I don't care. It's time. Get in here. NOW!"

Of course, she ignored me.

So I pulled out the big guns.

"I'm counting to 5. If you aren't in here by 5, I am turning off Sesame Street."

She was in there. Crying, yes, but there.

So, we did the training pants all day, with rubber pants over (for no apparent reason, because when she has an accident, she's pretty much soaked anyway. But whatever. I keep using them.) She did pretty well. 2 accidents, a small turd (first on the potty.) Many gummi bears.

Today, again, 3 accidents, but a massive poop on the potty to offset that (resulting in a big strawberry marshmallow. I'm all about the corn syrup-laden rewards). She's going, but only when I take her, never on her own before the fact. (Note, the accidents were within about 10 minutes of an attempt each time, so don't say I'm not taking her often enough. I'm really really trying here.) We ran some errands and I put her in a diaper, which she filled with pee, but at least let me know when it was happening (and all the other shoppers around us, too, natch.) She was also very polite to the lady who let us in the bathroom to clean up.

Tonight, I found some more ammo in the closet.

A green fairy costume, with wings, I'd found on sale at the craft store years ago for a few bucks--the perfect carrot. 3 days with no accidents AND remembering to tell Mommy before she pees and not just relying on me to take her.

Wish us luck.

Rest in Peace, Ethel, the Medieval Laptop

I have a hard time buying things.

Ha haha hahahahahahahah.

OK, well. Not shoes.

But some things, yes. Big things. Expensive things, for me, especially. If it's a pair of cute jeans on sale for $30, yeah, no hesitation. But anything more than about 50 bucks and I get nervous.

Thus, I was still happily (somewhat) typing away on my old laptop (a birthday gift back in the early days of the last decade). It had a newer hard drive, but was pretty slow for a Mac. I was on keyboard #3 (thanks to Miss Sticky Fingers) and it sounded vaguely like a jet plane taking off when you opened it. Either that or one of those toilets that flushes so loud you're pretty sure you will lose a kidney if you don't stand up when you hit the lever. You know the ones.

And I was still using my little point-and-shoot camera with the sand stuck in the controls from our time at the beach (I could go up, but not down). And editing the living daylights out of the photos in iPhoto, a slow process on my Gothic computer.

I had fear. Fear of certain websites with lots of flash animation and videos. Fear of loading yet more photos on, because I already had over 4GB on it worth of snaps of Rowan. Fear of taking and saving too many photos, for the lack of room and the time it took to upload them. Much time was spent deleting photos after scrutinizing them on the tiny screen of my little brown camera. More time was spent waiting for the screen or the internet to catch up with my fingers as I surfed and scrolled.

But I am a lucky, lucky woman.

For Christmas, I opened a box with a new Nikon D90. I'm still learning to use it. But I can already tell, the photos are beautiful. Gorgeous. Amazing. Even with little ability or skill applied yet.

Dr. B asked last night why I hadn't uploaded the photos I've taken at Christmas. I answered with tales of trepidation as to how much Ethel could handle. Maybe we should buy a little extra hard drive to save photos? USB drives? Something? Because I was afraid of deleting photos, but even more afraid of loading more on to an old lady whose back was nearly broken already.

Today, he came home from work and tossed a small neoprene sleeve on the sofa.

A new laptop, for me.

His custom bike's purchase (which is really his Christmas gift) will be put off a month or two. Thanks to a bit of a pay bump due to his new position at work, there's more breathing room. (And lucky for my own guilt, it's a bit chilly and snowy for biking anyway.)

And he says I deserve it.

Wow.

I am so spoiled. Blessed. And very, very lucky. I would have been happy with flowers.

And now, so is Rowan. She's currently cuddled up next to me, watching T'choupi videos on YouTube on my old laptop as I type this on my new one.

Happy New Year, indeed.