Opinions, I haz 'em.

I have fairly strong opinions. If you are a reader of this blog, or happen to know me in real life or even just on facebook, I expect you know that. Not only do I have strong opinions, I have lots of them. On just about everything. And not only do I have strong opinions on just about everything, they are mostly fairly well supported opinions. Which means, if your opinion differs from mine, though I will listen to you, it is unlikely my opinion will change. Not only will my opinions not change, I might stomp yours into the ground, if it isn't well supported. Yep, I know it is kind of a jerk thing to do, and I don't really mean to be a jerk, it just happens sometimes. We all have our cross to bear.
I don't understand people who don't have opinions about things. Boggles the mind, really. My opinion of people who don't have strong opinions? Weirdos, one and all.
The Man of the House and I occasionally have discussions about this, because, for the most part, he does not hold strong opinions on a lot of things. Obviously, I think he is crazy.
Having opinions on things can put one in a stronger position, albeit one that sometimes annoys the living crap out of one's associates.
For instance, if you are hanging out with me and I say, "what would you like to do?" And you say, "Eh, I don't care" I will take you at your word. Since, odds are, I have an opinion about what I would like to do. If you do not voice your opinion, then mine trumps it by forfeit. Benefit for me! Sucks for you if you actually do care. I am willing to take your opinion into account, but only if you let me know you have one!
Lately, I have had opinions on lots of things. Oh, wait, I always have opinions on lots of things. But, I have VOCALIZED my opinions on things lately.
Par example-
I have an opinion about Park51, the Muslim Community Center proposed for Manhattan. Don't call it the Ground Zero Mosque, because it isn't at Ground Zero.
I have an opinion about certain rectally-cranially inverted Happy Valleyites who felt the need to voice their displeasure at a certain local business for having the audacity to allow polygamists to patronize said business. I think they are idiot bigots. The Happy Valleyites, not the business, nor the polygamists.
I have an opinion about opposite sex friendships. I think they are awesome. Let me emphasize the friendship. Nothing more, nothing less. I, personally, do not look on all members of the opposite sex as simply opportunities for sex. I think there may be a bit more to said people than that.
I have an opinion on gay rights, universal healthcare, stupid people, education, cheese, etiquette, funny words, books you should read, reality tv...you name it.
And I don't mind sharing them.

Sorry Kaytee!

I promised Kaytee some new posts quite a while ago and I have not delivered. Oops. It gets stressful around here, sometimes, and it takes some doing to write a blog post. Which doing I do not always care to do. But, I know I should, as this really is supposed to be something of a record of my life, aside from entertaining the people who actually do read it.
I always wonder, though, why they do. Why do you? Because you find my opinions fascinating? I mean, I think my opinions are fascinating, but I am pretty aware that not everyone shares that view. ;)
Halloween is coming up. I love Halloween in abstract. It appeals to the costumer that still dwells within me. It appeals to the child in me that loves to play dressup, to the imagination that allows me to be, in real life, what I sometimes pretend to be or wish to be in my head.
But then, life has this annoying habit of getting in my way! October is such a busy season with weddings and all, that by the time I really think about getting down to the planning of the costumes, it is the week before Halloween and I am just too tired to really care. So, The Small One usually ends up with something pretty cool. My niece usually gets something nice, and me? Yeah, year after year I end up having to dig through my box of costume crap and try and come up with something. Now, grant you, I have a pretty good costume box, so even my thrown together costumes are pretty cool. Just not as cool as they would be if I actually got around to making something for myself. Alas.
I will post pictures of Halloween, though, rest assured. Kaytee, I will not disappoint!
The Small One is going to be "Blue Alice" as she calls it, from the new Alice in Wonderland. The Man of the House will be dressing up as The Mad Hatter. Spoiled niece will be going as Alice in the Red Queen's castle. The Small One thinks I ought to go as The Red Queen (whom she calls Red Queen Alice's Mom), but I don't have the energy or time to do that costume at this point. Bummer, would have been fun. She has also suggested once or twice that I go as the Bandersnatch, but I vetoed that one.


In other news, The Small One's humour still abounds. The other morning, I lay in bed with my hands tucked behind my head. She grabbed my elbow and pulled, telling me to put my arms down. I asked why? "Because peoples don't like to look at your armpits." Why not? I queried. At this juncture, she released my elbow prodded said armpit and announced, "Because, they are all wild or somethin'." Nice. My armpits are wild. Thing is, it isn't like they were unshaven or anything. They simply offended her for some reason.

She is turning into a right little drama queen, lately. I think it has something to do with being three? At least, that is what I like to believe. And that she will grow out of it, right? RIGHT?
Anyhoo, she has taken to throwing these utterly idiotic and annoying tantrums, which drive me batty, so when they occur, if we are home (how is this for a run on sentence!?!) I send her to her room. Where she howls. A few days ago, upon my sending her to her room, she ran in, cast herself upon the floor and proceeded to give voice in a most melodramatic fashion, as follows.
"JEEEEEEESSSUUUUUSSSSS!!!!! Where have you gone? I want to come to your house! Jeeessuuuussss!!! What did I do?"
I jest not. This actually happened. I think she must be channeling her Southern Baptist roots. I did not know that religion could be inbred like that.

In yet other, though related as pertains to her, news, she likes Dance class. Whew. Like big WHEW! She still whines at me when it is time to get ready, as she suffers from social anxiety, but once she sees how incredibly cute she is in her ballet attire, all is well. And I am not kidding, all it takes is for her to see herself in leo, pink tights and bun and she is rarin' to go. The spazziness that seems to be inherent pops up in dance class, and all I can say is that her teacher is unfailingly patient. The child does not follow directions, spaces off mid exercise and likes to admire herself in the studio mirrors. Not a surprise, really, and I warned dance teacher about it. Dance teacher is sweet and kind and gently takes the child by the hand to lead her back into what she is supposed to do.
Much nicer than me. When I want her attention, it goes more like this.
Me-Small One.
Small One-......
Me-Small One!
SO-......
Me-Small One!!!!
SO-......
Me-SMALL ONE!!!!!! HEY!!!! I AM TALKING TO YOU!!!!! PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR MOTHER!!!!!!
SO-......
At which point I generally poke her with something or flick her ear. Occasionally I have been known to chuck a pillow in her direction. Sometimes it works.
Here's the thing. You can shout at her until the cows come home and if she is distracted, she WILL NOT HEAR YOU. But if you open a candy wrapper in the basement while she is upstairs watching TV? You can bet that the stair door will open and a sweet voice will echo down the stairwell saying, "Hey, can I have some candy, too?"

Wow, go me.

So, it seems I am a lousy blogger. I want to post more often, really I do, but I just don't seem to be able to find the time and/or motivation! I know, it is terrible, especially because this is supposed to be documenting the childhood of The Small One. And she says and does the funniest things, too, which of course, I cannot remember if I don't write them down. Yep, I am lame.

Anyhoo, let's see if we can catch some stuff up here.

The Small One started preschool in August and well, it did not go well. I thought she would do okay, since her teacher was our backyard neighbor, but oh. I was wrong. I guess going from being at home with Mamma to going to a large school with 18 kids in your class is a bit of a jump. Guess I should have thought of that, since it cost me over $200 for the three weeks she managed to attend. I had hoped she would get over her fear but when she started waking in the middle of the night crying and asking if she had to go to school, well, that put an end to it.

I decided that perhaps we would be better off starting small and then working our way up to prescchool. So, with that in mind, I enrolled her in a creative movement class at the ballet school near us.

Well, as I sit here typing this, The Small One is next to me on the couch howling about how she doesn't want to go to dance class. Great. Awesome. She is going to go anyway, like it or not because there are no refunds with this place. But UGH!!!! It seems I have ruined my child by being a stay at home mom. She doesn't get babysat by anyone but my mom or my niece. She only plays at a couple of friends' homes (who live very nearby) and she doesn't interact with very many children who are not her cousins. So now what? Well, I guess I just hope that she gets used to going to dance class and learns to enjoy it.

A couple of weeks ago, Grandpa Ed stayed the night here. The Small One stayed up a bit late to visit with him, so the next morning she slept in quite late. I finally went in to get her up and she sleepily looked at me and said "Is it time to get ready for church?" No, I assured her that it was not Sunday. "Is it a school day?" No, not a school day. At which point, she gave me a little push, rolled over and said, "Then go out, I want to have a few more sleeps." So, out I went. Silly infant.

More Life and Whatnot...

So, apparently I worried some of you with my last post about being overwhelmed and stuff. Sorry. I am surviving, there is just a lot going on right now. My work, his work, plus some serious stress in my extended family. I have over-extended myself a wee bit, but I shall get through it. This, too, shall pass.

In other news, have I told you how much I like The Small One? Yeah, okay, not just like. Love. Adore. Want to kiss her silly face a lot. She brings me so much joy. She has this way of saying something utterly hysterical and then smiling this little, wrinkly nosed, mousy smile that makes me want to grab her and hug her. And sometimes I do. She is pretty good about it. Unlike my little nephews who think wiping my kisses off is the funniest thing EVAR! Brats.

Speaking of my nephews, have I told you how much I like them? They are adorable little stinkers. There are three in particular that come over here fairly regularly. One of them is my boy. Oh, I love him so much. One is the same age as The Small One and just as much trouble. And the third is a wee, fat little baby. Very kissable and huggable, but kind of likes to be left alone. I love them all. The middle boy and The Small One cause all sorts of really funny havoc. They are so much the same, it kills me. Crazy little rowdies, the both of them. Every time the boys are over, the curtain rod in the nursery gets broken. And they cannot figure out why! I mean, it should hold up their weight when they swing from the curtains, right? Right? Why else would you have floor length curtains?

In yet other news, courtesy of Pioneer Day, I have been looking up my ancestors online. On one branch, all English. Crazy. On the other, we get a Dane mixed up in there. On yet another (through my paternal Grandmother) it goes all Scottish. These people did not do much intermixing. Although, I suppose that stands to reason as they didn't have much opportunity to intermix until they came here. My paternal Grandfather's family popped on over in 1857 via wagon train. Hooray for the Mormon Migration! Woot!

Seriously, though. Following the 1857 ancestor's lines down, I find a whole lot of names I am familiar with. In fact, some friends' names mixed up in there. Now I need to do some research to figure out if I am actually related to said friends a ways back. I am related to the people I grew up across the street from. Through previously mentioned ancestor. Crazy. Utah is so inbred. ;)

Also interesting, one of the daughters of said ancestor lived in Rockville, Utah, which is in Zion Canyon. Right next door to Grafton, which is where some ancestors of The Man of the House resided. Wouldn't it be weird if they knew each other?

I read The Undaunted just recently. Wow. Great story. Not a Gerald Lund fan, really, his writing style gets on my nerves, but this book was worth the irritation. It is a novel based on the Hole in the Rock pioneers. Look them up. Because, HOLY CRAP, they did some serious pioneering. The Hole in the Rock is a crack in a cliff that they blasted out and took wagons down. You will flip if you do not know the story because it is mind-boggling what they were able to accomplish.

Well, I have got to go finish cleaning up my studio. Again. I am so disorganized when I work, that periodically I have to go through and shovel up the mess, put things back where they go, clear off the table and sewing machines and sweep up all the clippings. Just so I can continue using the room. Yippee. I hate cleaning. Not my forte.

First, however, I will go gather the eggs. 9-10 per day. Are you jealous? You should be.

Life...

"I try to take life one day at a time, but sometimes, several days attack me at once."

This is how I feel right now. Dear friends, please be aware, I am utterly overwhelmed right now. If you asked me to do something and it hasn't gotten done, I am sorry. It probably won't for awhile. If you are wondering why I haven't spent time with you, it isn't because I don't like you, it is because all of my time is taken up doing stuff for other people and when a free moment comes along (and that is all it is, a moment) I want to sit down and just be me.

I am so overwhelmed right now that my work is suffering. I am doing very poor work and not even being aware of how bad it is until my unhappy client points it out. And that just sort of adds to the feeling of overwhelmed-ness. It makes my confidence in my abilities suffer. Which makes me do poor work, which makes my...well, you get the idea. Vicious circle and whatnot.

Stop asking me when I am going to have more children. I don't know. The thought of adding something like that to the mix right now may just send me straight over the edge. I love my daughter more than life, but she requires a great deal of time. And, as I do not have much of that right now, taking away the bit I do have for her in order to care for an infant seems cruel. Besides, I don't have insurance.

I am taking a break from working for a bit, as soon as I wrap up the clients I have. Don't ask me to sew for you. The answer is no.

I am going to focus on fixing the things I screwed up and then once I finish that, focus on figuring out how to get my head back in the game. Thanks for understanding.

Monica, this does not apply to your boys. They are welcome ANYTIME, as their presence makes me happy.

Beautiful Baby

Here are some pics of the lovely child.

From Lilly three year

From Lilly three year

From Lilly three year

From Lilly three year

Chicken Girl

The child is a born farmgirl. I am not sure how that happened, but it did. Would you like to hear (or read, really) an amusing story about The Small Farm Girl? I thought you might.
Once upon a time, long, long ago...oh, wait. Wrong story. Hang on a second while I reload...Okay here goes.
The other day...
The Small One and I went out to the back yard to give the chickens and turkeys a little treat. Well, at least they think it is a treat. I call it kitchen scraps, but chickens aren't that bright. As we walked over to the pen, The Small One decided she wanted to hurl the lettuce and carrot scraps to them. Being, as she is, Small, she can't hurl them over the top of the pen with quite the panache I seem to be able to muster. Or at all. So, I opened the door to the pen to allow her to toss her scraps to the chickens.
In the ensuing melee, one chicken managed to escape! As she headed for freedom (of a fenced yard?) The Small One gave chase. There was a great deal of flapping and squawking and barking (fear not, the barking was from the dogs who got a bit excited at the fracas. Our chickens don't bark.) Then the chicken, apparently one of the brighter ones, ensconced herself behind the lilac bush, without the knowledge of The Small One.
However, I had watched said chicken's every move and knew where she had hidden herself. Being not so small as the child, I could not quite fit behind the previously mentioned lilac bush. So, calling The Small One back to my aid, I armed myself with a leafy branch, crawled under said bush and blocked the escape on one side. Then, The Small One made her move. She slid under and behind that bush and snagged that chicken by the tail! The chicken flapped, she squawked, she squirmed and she flapped some more, but The Small One was relentless.
Despite all the flap, which would have conquered more valiant hearts, she persevered. She hauled that chicken out of it's forest fastness by the tail, when she got it close enough, she wrapped her little arms around it, hefted it up and hauled it back to it's imprisonment. I quickly opened the gate to the pen, she tossed the chicken in and I shut the gate before another could make a bid for freedom.
The Small One just dusted her hands off, said "There you go, mama." and went off to jump on the tramp. Just another day in the life, for her.
Yeah, I think she's pretty awesome.

From Drop Box