The Bare Necessities

We went to the Multnomah County Friends of the Library sale Saturday and came home with a big box full of wonderful stuff, though somehow a dud made its way in. It's a smallish paperback titled Simplify Your Life: 100 Ways to Slow Down and Enjoy the Things That Really Matter by Elaine St. James. Okay, so the title really appealed to me, as a common and frequent topic of conversation in our house of late has been the idea of "living simply."

Apparently, Ms. James is writing to those in a higher tax bracket than us because she introduces such revolutionary ideas as getting rid of the housekeeper and cook. Um, housekeeper I can see, but cook? Who employs cooks? I suppose I shouldn't have ignored the endorsement on the back cover by Oprah Winfrey saying, "Elaine, you're our role model."

I was already rolling my eyes through the first half of the book with her suggestions to read a book instead of go shopping and not buy brand-new cars, but I was ready to throw the book across the room when I read in her chapter, "Clean up Your Relationships":

I'm referring to an impossible marriage or a relationship that isn't going anywhere, and that is causing you stress or pain...get out.

My issue is with her use of the word "impossible." What does that even mean when applied to marriage? Who hasn't felt the exasperation of looking at a conflict that seems impossible to solve? And who hasn't felt stressed by your marriage or been hurt by your spouse? Get out? Really?
Don't we have enough people giving up on their marriages?

By far, though, the most helpful advice she gave was chapter 75: "If It's Not Easy, Don't Do It." Who is she writing this load of crap to? She ends the chapter with this nugget of wisdom, "Think how simple your life would be if you eliminated the difficult things--the things that probably weren't meant to be anyway--and concentrated on what was easy."

Alrightee then. I'll remember that the next time Abe is screaming in my ear with a diaper full of last night's black bean soup and a nose full of green snot that really needs to be suctioned out. Ugh, that's just too hard...damn it, if I hadn't already fired the cook, I could have had her do it for me. I guess I should just take Ms. James' advice and walk way from the relationship with my son since reading Eclipse would be a whole lot easier than wrestling a 16-month-old.

This morning, while this song was playing, I realized I prefer simplicity Baloo style:

Now when you pick a pawpaw
Or a prickly pear
And you prick a raw paw
Next time beware
Don't pick the prickly pear by the paw
When you pick a pear
Try to use the claw
But you don't need to use the claw
When you pick a pear of the big pawpaw
Have I given you a clue ?
The bare necessities of life will come to you
They'll come to you!
And don't spend your time lookin' around
For something you want that can't be found
When you find out you can live without it
And go along not thinkin' about it
I'll tell you something true
The bare necessities of life will come to you

Whatever, no deep thoughts here, just frustration at having paid $1.25 for such a stinking load.

Oh, and what is the deal with folks stealing their neighbor's political signs? Nearly every day, someone on facebook writes that their sign was stolen from their yard during the night (and always an Obama sign). Sigh. Hearing that people are behaving so idiotically truly, honest-to-God upsets me. Can't we be more civilized than that?

Calling Your Name...

Could the following people send us an email? Thanks.

Sara S.
Carol P.
Hollis B.
Cynthia M.

Hope you're all having a lovely weekend.

Fall in Portland

I don't usually sleep well. But when I do, like two nights ago (last night was a different story), I'm amazed at the seemingly boundless energy I have at my disposal. So yesterday, after a good night's sleep, I walked with Abe on an errand to the post office. It's only a few blocks away but is down a steep hill. Getting back meant either going back the same way (boooring...I've inherited my hiker-father's wanderlust) or getting up one of the public staircases in our neighborhood. I opted for the latter, pulling Abe in his jogging-stroller (not that I ever jog) up 117 steps. Yes, I counted. This was the view from about half-way up.

Experiencing a long walk on a sunny day in fall made me really think about how much I love Portland. For one thing, we actually have seasons here (as opposed to that other place we spend a fair amount of our time), and fall is gorgeous. Sure it rains a lot, but I don't mind that, as I always welcome the excuse to brew a pot of Barry's tea and bundle up in my orange sweater bought last year in Ireland. I sometimes even bake, like last night's chocolate-chip pumpkin muffins (I'm not a fan of baking, but I really wanted the smell of pumpkin in the house).

When we do have a sunny fall day, the streets of Portland look like this:
Unbelievable. All that rain makes everything so green and fresh. And Portland is full of old, classic, craftsman style houses, each one unique and often with whimsical touches that make taking long walks an exercise in discovery of why those "Keep Portland Weird" bumper stickers are so popular.

Case in point: On our walk home yesterday afternoon, I found this cat:
Yes, he's in a harness and a leash, tied to the front porch. Why would someone do that to a cat? Well, I've always thought that one can get the most accurate feel of a neighborhood by checking out the friendliness of its cats. Do they scamper away to hide under cars when you approach, or do they come at you for some lovin'? In Portland, the cats are so friendly that some have to be harnessed and leashed to keep them from following strangers home.

When your cats start acting like dogs, you know you're in a good city.

Toddler Camping 101

It was a week ago today that Ted was driving bleary-eyed down from Mt. Hood from our camping trip while Abe and I slept in the car. That morning, while cooking our breakfast as Abe "drunken sailer walked" around the campsite, we realized the reason we go camping: breakfast outside. It's all about that moment for us--waking up outside and cooking in the midst of trees, hopefully with a mountain or two in sight. It makes me feel like a kid again.

Here's our list of suggestions for camping with a toddler:

1. In the dark, restraining devices are your friends. I was constantly terrified of Abe wandering off into the dark of the woods and getting carried off by that pack of coyotes that was wailing most of the night.

2. Arrive early enough to get things set up before it gets dark. See above note.

Abe helping Ted set up the tent.

3. Before going to bed, make sure every scrap of food is put away (in the car) or raccoons will scamper about and steal your freshly-baked brownies. Or bears may show up and maul you to death.

4. Dress your wee one in lots of layers to go to sleep. I had Abe in long-sleeved, one-piece footed pajamas with another layer of a henley onesie and wool pants. Oh, and with socks under the footed pajamas.

5. Sleep in a pop-up camper or the car/van rather than a tent if possible. Abe slept fine but moves around a lot so neither of us slept well at all. If you're determined to tent-camp, bring a pack-n-play for the kid to sleep in so he doesn't roll around. The pack-n-play is also a handy spot for putting the toddler while you're trying to set up camp in the pitch black.

Abe discovering the fun of rolling around in a tent, which he proceeded to do for the next 10 hours or so.

6. Have a flashlight on hand for reading once you're snug in your sleeping bag. I started Twilight this way and couldn't imagine a more perfect way to start this book (thanks, Stacie!). The flashlights are also handy for late night trips to the bathroom and for shining light in the faces of raccoons.

7. On the subject of breakfast: those little cans of espresso with cream are the way to have your morning coffee. They fit perfectly on top of a small burner and get warm within a few seconds. And they're so much better than instant and save you the trouble of trying to use a french press or percolator ("There was a fish! In the percolator!" Anyone?)

9. First thing in the morning, only allow photos taken like this one:

Notice the can of coffee getting warmed up on the burner.

10. If you're camping at Timothy Lake, go on and jump in, even if it is September.
For me, one of the best things about camping is the renewed appreciation of the comforts of home. I think Ted could live the rest of his days on an air mattress in a tent in the woods, but I like a warm bed and shower now and then.

This photo has nothing to do with anything. I just find it funny that Abe, a certified member of the Thumbsucker Club, discovers his "Kiss Me, I'm Irish" bink every now and then.

Our Own Rocky!

The big event happened two weeks ago today while we were visiting Ted at work on a TV show set in Van Nuys (do we have a future actor on our hands?) which explains the odd location in the video. And now, our life is pretty different. Click here to see what most evenings are like now in our house.

Moments with Abe

Abe has discovered screaming just for the heck of it--no tears, just high-pitched screeching. Any ideas what to do about that? It's truly making me crazy.

Tonight we were doing our night-time thing: Abe on my lap having a little bottle, me having "Mom's bottle" (a Hornsby's cider) while we sat at the computer desk reading commentary on the debate (sigh...) and going through blogs.

Abe sucked down the last of his bottle and started flailing it about while I started reading Craig and Cindy's blog. I look over at Abe right at the moment he whacked himself square in the face with the empty bottle. I clicked "play" on the video they'd posted right as Abe's face squished up into sad, bemoaning, pitiful wails. He sat up and leaned into my chest for comfort through his crying which was a convenient way for me to hide my stifled snicker at this "injury," but then...the magic happened. The music overtook him. He leaned back and looked at me, face red and wet from tears, but with a look of shock at the glorious sounds coming from the speakers. He made his surprised, raised-eyebrows, mouth in a perfect "O" look and still with tears on his face, started to clap and shake his head.

He looked at the computer, then looked at me, back and forth, clapping nonstop and bobbing his head through the entire song as his tears dried and face lost all that fierce red. At the end of the song, he joined in with the "woo-woo-woos."

We played the song about three more times. I carried him up to bed, and as I whispered in his ear before laying him down, I teared up, thanking God for this soulful, screeching boy.

Disbelief Suspended Temporarily

This evening, this could be heard in our living room:

Lori (looking up briefly from her book): Ugh! This would so never happen!*

Ted: Um, aren't you reading a teen vampire novel?.

Posts about our camping trip or that "Abe announcement" I alluded to a few days ago seem to be put on hold, thanks to technical delays and my starting Twilight, the book "all the cool kids are reading" (right, Caroline? Have you got it yet?).

*I was referring specifically to the blood-typing lab done in the Forks High School biology class