The Beauty of Inversion

The past couple of days were not fabulous for various reasons.
As I drove to work the day before yesterday, the thoughts in my mind were not terribly pleasant. The weather was ugly, the air was bad, I was tired, it was too early in the morning, things at work were cranky.
The ugly weather and bad air are the result of a fairly common phenomenon here in Happy Valley. S ince we live in a valley surrounded by very high mountains, we get these lovely things called inversions. And I use the term lovely VERY sarcastically. Inversions are evil, horrible, nasty things. In a nutshell, warm air traps cold air in the valley and allows for no air movement. This results in serious pollution and haze. Those with compromised immune systems or respiratory problems are encouraged to stay inside. Even those us with healthy lungs have a difficult time breathing.
So, there I was, driving through the nastiness, when I noticed that it was...particulating? Not snow, not rain, not really ice. Little tiny sparkly crystals landing on my windshield. I looked around and realized...

I was driving through faeryland.

It was beautiful. Hoarfrost coated everything. Thick, delightful layers of frozen glitter clung to each and every branch and leaf. The sad, stark trees from the previous day were gone, to be replaced by a beauty rarely seen here. When the sun was able to peek through the haze, the coated vegetation positively glowed in the light. Oh, how I wish I had had my camera! This was not the usual morning frost that a touch would melt away, no this, this was jewellike. It was as though the trees had been dipped in diamond dust. And it would not have been possible without the inversion, without the horrible cold, without the nasty, wet air. I don't have words to describe the beauty of it.

By the time I got to work, I was in a great mood. Beauty has that effect on me, natural beauty in particular. God is, indeed, good.

Mommy blogging

Yep, that is what I do. Although this blog is technically supposed to be about lots of things...I find that it mostly focuses on The Small One. Big surprise, that, since I find that I mostly focus on The Small One.
So, here, for your reading enjoyment are a few stories about her.

Firstly, we shall start with her adventures shopping with Memaw and Papa.
The Small One is partly potty-trained, but often still wears her little cloth diapers. Bless her, sometimes she just can't be bothered to use the potty! You know how it is, busy 2 year old and what not. Well, last week, she was out with the grandfolks and wandering about through a store. Periodically, she would stop, tuck her hands between her legs, bend over and squeeze her legs together. Papa noticed this odd behaviour, but wasn't sure at first what it signified. After the third or fourth time, he realized it's purpose and asked The Small One if she needed to use the bathroom. She nodded solemnly. Papa took her over to Memaw who asked her the same question. This time she shook her head. Even more solemnly. So, Memaw asked her if she needed to have her pants changed. Emphatic nodding.

Then what did she do?

Well, she laid her wee self down on the floor in the middle of the store and said "Diapee?"

The child has no boundaries!

Sunday was a bit of a difficult day at church for The Small One. Memaw and Papa were absent due to nasty colds and that set of The Small One's routine. She does not like to have her routines messed up. She doesn't have very many of them, but those she does have are terribly important and if you value quiet and sanity, you do not mess around with them.
So, we have sacrament meeting last, and by that time, The Small One is very tired. Normally, at this point, as we walk into the chapel, she starts her routine. She wanders around a bit before the meeting starts, saying hi to certain people. There is one particular gentleman to whom she must always say hello, and he loves it.
After she has said hello to all and sundry, she wanders back to our pew, plays for a little bit, then invariably climbs into Papa's lap and goes to sleep. (this meeting falls during her usual nap time).
Well, this past Sunday, that didn't happen, as Papa wasn't there. She fussed and yelled for a bit, then I finally took her out before she got too loud. I walked her about in the halls (I don't allow her down in the halls, if possible) and she calmed down. About 15 minutes before the end of the meeting, I started to take her back inside the chapel. The moment the door opened, The Small One set up screaming. Not just fussing. She let out an unholy yell. Of course, everyone turned to look, including The Small One's daddy (thank goodness) I motioned for him to come out and stepped back into the foyer. He brought our things out and we proceeded to get The Small One ready to go home.
The moment we walked out the outside doors, what do you think she did?

Threw her arms into the air and shouted "Woo-Hoo!"

I kid you not.

It would seem I am raising a heathen.

Young and Hip

That which I am not. Not for my field anyhoo. Bummer.

I work with a delightful girl, who is my co-designer for Eternity Bridal.

And she is.

Young and hip, I mean.

We had a design meeting last week with the big bad boss, wherein he chose the 19 designs that would go into production for the Spring 2010 Bridal line. She and I both designed quite a few dresses, then Big Bad Boss went through them all, we described them to him as needed. And he chose...

15 of hers and 4 of mine.

Sigh

Once again, it is brought to my attention that designing isn't my forte. I am a rockin' pattern maker and seamstress. I am a fabulous manager. I am an okay designer. Young and Hip is a great designer. I can see that, even in my disappointment. She felt bad when the numbers came to her attention and told me she didn't want to step on my toes and asked what she should do. I told her it wasn't her fault, it is just how it is.

Now, we have Prom designs to get in. I am even further from Prom age than Bride age. I guess we will see how that goes!

In other news, we have a new dress code and direction at work. We are hoping to phase out of standard Bridal Shop into something more posh, more Bridal Salon. The new "dress code" involves us looking more "hip". Which means I really need some new clothes. So, I am on a quest for some fabulous tops. The bottoms are not so much the importance because we have to wear black pants or skirts. I will also need some more fabulous shoes that will allow me to be on my feet all day. I have some fabulous shoes, but they do not allow one to stand all day without some serious discomfort.
I will have to make a bunch of new tops as I cannot afford to purchase the level of fabulous hipness I want to achieve. Maybe looking fabulous will inspire me to design better, I don't know.

Truthfully, I am a very good designer. The problem is I am a good designer for my age group, which is not the target market.

When did I become old?

Funny Boo

sooooo....I have the funniest kid ever. She kills me.

For example:

This morning after I took The Small One's nighttime diaper off, I left her butt bare to air out for a bit. She wears cloth diapers, so they don't suck the moisture off her bum.

So, there I was in the bathroom getting ready for work, having left The Small One to be watched by her loving daddy. Suddenly, I hear a shout from loving daddy and the pitter patter of small running footsteps. I stepped from the bathroom to see what had happened and discovered that The Small One had accidentally sharted on the floor. Oh, dear, that was funny. She thought she just had gas, turns out it was a little more than that. Mike said that he heard her toot and looked over to see her surprised face as she bolted for the bathroom. Poor baby. She sat down on her potty and kept looking at me and saying "poo?" I told her yes, it sure was. I couldn't stop laughing.

Also...the other day, we were hanging out at Memaw's house and The Small One got an ink spot on her wrist. Over to me she toddles. Mamma! Mamma! I look down and she hold her wrist up for my view. I look down. "What is it?" "A tattoo!" she says.

I pause.

I cannot possibly have heard this right.

"A what?" I say.

"A tattoo!"

Really? Can she possibly know that word? I know that she knows a lot of words, but tattoo?

So, I show her a picture of a tattoo. "What is that?" I ask her. "A tattoo!" she answers. Then points to her own wrist. "Wook, Mamma! Tattoo!"

Dear heaven above. That is what she was saying. She knows what a tattoo is. Is this wrong? I realize that my nephew, who spends a lot of time at Memaw's and consequently with The Small One (he is 4, she thinks he belongs to her), loves temporary tattoos and usually has one when he comes over. So, I know the origin of the word, but, really? How does she know that?

Lately, because Mike is out of a job, he is home in the mornings when The Small One wakes up. She climbs into bed with us when she awakes and proceeds to harass daddy until he wakes up himself.

Which he does not love.

But I do. I find it highly amusing.

This morning, for some unknown reason, she needed to walk across the top of the bed, over and over. The problem? Well, daddy's head was in the way. She walked to my side, turned around, walked to Daddy's side. Head. "Moof!" she says. Daddy lifts his weary head. She passes and he lays back down. The Small One turns around to traipse back the way she came. Again, there is a head in her way. "Moof!' she commands. Again, the weary head lifts briefly as she passes. This happens 2 or 3 more times. Daddy finally gets sick of it and scoots down to the bottom of the bed.

At which time, the game ceases to be amusing, so The Small One stops.



For some unknown reason, if The Small One has a bottle at home during the day, it requires laying in my bed to do so. I don't know why, that is just what she does.

So, she asks for her 'bobble' and follows me into the kitchen as I go to make it. After she has verified that I am indeed making the bottle, she toddles off to the bedroom saying "nigh-nigh!" A few seconds later I hear a squeal of fright. I take the bottle into the bedroom to find her clinging to the bedside table and the side of the bed with a grip of death. One hand has hold of the table, one hand the top of the mattress and her tiny toes are hanging on for all they are worth to the very small ledge formed by the bed frame. She looks at me. "Mamma! Tuck! (stuck...this is one of my favorite words for some reason. It's just funny!) I rescued her, of course, and she took her bottle and drained it. Don't worry, she will try to climb up herself again, the child has no fear. In fact, she has discovered the great joy to be found in climbing up things and jumping off to waiting arms. This would be fine, except I worry that she will forget to tell the arms they ought to catch her and one day will just jump, hoping for the best. And it may not be the best.

Happy New Year!

Christmas came and went.
I was not quite ready.
This should not come as a surprise,
but somehow it does.

Christmas was delightful, nonetheless.

The Small One got her first "lolly" (doll) which she loves.
And a laptop from Grandma Linda, which I love. It keeps her grimy little fingers off of mine!
And some tractors. She loves those. She finds it very amusing to drive them on me.

Mike and my dad, they got me an iPod. It has a wee tiny screen for movies. I love it.
Also, much knitting toys were given me. I heart knitting. It makes this girl very happy.
Oh, and a seriously cool book. "Inside the Victorian Home" all about the day to day life of Victorians in England. Love it.

Mike got a gun. Go figure. Silly boy. Wants to hunt.
Also he got some new clothes for his forthcoming new career. He wants to be a desk jockey for awhile. Use his degree or something.

The Small One? She is kind of self-centered. She gave Grandpa John a picture of herself for a present. She outdid herself with Memaw and Papa's present. It was a whole collage of pictures of her from birth on. Narcissistic little infant.

We hope things get better financially in this next year. For everyone!