Flashback Friday

See that girl on the far right with the sunglasses and the drum?

That's my mom.

Isn't she cute?

Carnivore

I love Thanksgiving. Ever since the first year that I tackled cooking my own turkey, I've looked forward to cooking a big, fat bird every year.

One spring, I found myself craving turkey again. So since then, I always try to buy two turkeys at Thanksgiving-time when they're so much cheaper - in order to have one in the spring.

So last week, I made our spring turkey. (Kind of like a Spring Chicken, but different.)

I would have stripped all the meat off it for freezing earlier, but I've been planning Pirate Munchkin's birthday party that we had Friday night.

Yesterday, I promised Surfer Pirate I would get it done. I make some pretty amazing turkey enchiladas with leftover turkey, and he was very concerned that the meat would spoil before I could make any for us. But yesterday, I was pretty much in party-recovery mode. I took a long nap and spent a lot of time sitting down. He and I made supper together and we all spent time together as a family. Everyone went to bed, but I knew I couldn't go to bed until I'd taken care of that turkey.

So about 11:00 last night, it was silent in the house, and I found myself stripping meat off a turkey. The only sound was the sounds of the meat being pulled off the bones.

And it occurred to me that there is something very primal about removing meat off a dead animal's carcase in the dark of night.

Yep. I'm a carnivore, through and through.




A Note on Google Image Search:

While I thought about this blog posting last night, trying to figure out what I would say, I was too tired to grab the camera and get a picture to go with it. So I used one of my favorite tools to find a picture for me - Google Images.

But could someone please explain to me why when I entered the words "partially eaten turkey" that this picture of Michael and Janet Jackson would come up?

Yeah.

That's just creepy.

Puppy Love

(It's really sad how long I've been blogging and I'm just now figuring out how to post more than one picture at a time. My mom says she learns just by clicking on things. I've got to get better at that.)


Pirate Baby was having his tummy time. Generally, he hates it and will cry most of the time. For some reason, this time he was perfectly content to lay on his tummy and study the world from floor level.

But Pirate Puppy (I've REALLY got to get around to finding better dog pirate names) has serious issues with people being on the floor. I think he finds it completely wrong and doesn't quite know what to do when that happens.

Combine his floor/people neurosis with his complete obsession with Pirate Baby and you get the pictures I've got here.

We got a really cute picture frame as a baby gift, and I've been trying to figure out what would be a good shot to go in the frame. I've seen family pictures with everyone on the floor before and thought this would be a good time to do that. Kind of hard to do with a dog in the middle of things!

For the record, I did get a couple of good ones of my two cute kiddos together.

Without the dog.

Blue Sky

Yesterday was the most beautiful spring day we've had so far. The sky was the most gorgeous crystal clear blue. The sun was out. The air was warm. There was a light, pleasant breeze blowing.

Surfer Pirate came home for lunch ("dinner" around here. Still not used to that). When he was leaving, he suggested that I take Pirate Baby for a walk. Just another case of us reading each others' minds because I was thinking the same thing!

Pirate Baby and I went for a long walk and then we sat out on the porch soaking up the sunshine. He took a nap and I read a book. Then we both had a little snack.

Aside from discovering I had missed some odd spots when I had put on my sunscreen (as proven by my weird sunburn), it was a perfect, perfect day.

Mmmmmm... Doughnuts...

Who doesn't love doughnuts?

Man accused of stealing truck full of Krispy Kremes

A man who told Ocala police officers he stole a doughnut truck because he was tired of walking and wanted to sleep was arrested Thursday and charged with grand theft auto and possession of marijuana of less than 20 grams.

Police said two vehicles bumped into each other Thursday and the drivers thought the mirrors might have been damaged, so they stopped in the 400 block of West Silver Springs Boulevard and called police.

At the scene, Randall Travis Roberts, 20, of Davenport, told officer Leonard Griggs he had stolen the 2011 GMC box truck owned by Gulf Florida Doughnut Distributing in Tampa from a Walmart parking lot in Haines City.

Griggs secured Roberts and called for backup. Officer Nigel Hardy arrived and confirmed that the truck had been reported stolen.

Roberts told the officers he had gotten tired of walking and that his feet hurt.

He said he saw the truck, with the keys inside, parked behind the Walmart and took it “because he needed somewhere to sleep.”

Inside the truck, Hardy found 338 boxes of Krispy Kreme doughnuts in the back, along with 10 grams of marijuana in a plastic bag on the floor near the driver's seat.

Roberts said the marijuana did not belong to him.

He was arrested and taken to the Marion County Jail.

It is not known if he ate any of the doughnuts.

Somebody had a serious case of the Munchies.


Picture found here. Article found here.

It's a Start

Hey! Some of that white stuff is gone!

It's been really nice the last few days. I even spent a little time on the front porch with Pirate Baby - soaking up some sunshine.

I sort of remember that long skinny stuff that was hiding under the white stuff. I think it's called grass.

It's not green yet, but it's not white either!

That's an improvement!


And for the record, I saw robins yesterday. Lots of them.

Stress-o-Meter

It started when I was a baby and I would suck my thumb.

When I was 4, my mom decided it was time for me to stop that habit. She told me "big girls don't suck their thumbs." We agreed that when I turned 5, I would be a "big girl", and it would be time to stop.

I turned 5 and quit sucking my thumb.

(Although after my parents split up the next year, I would sometimes ask permission to do it again when I was extra sad.)

But I still couldn't keep my hands away from my face.

I started biting my nails instead.

I bit them all the time. I would even bite them so short that they would bleed. People asked me all the time if they hurt. Most of the time they didn't because I was just used to them being like that. I was also a bad influence on my best friend - she started biting her nails because I bit mine. Sorry B!

Somewhere around junior high I think, I really started actively trying to quit. It took YEARS before my nails looked nice more often than they looked bad. Somewhere along the line, the biting mostly turned to picking. I would pick at them and fiddle with them until I'd torn them short again.

And then I realized the condition of my nails was a direct reflection of my stress level.

When my stress level was fairly small, my nails would be long and pretty. But once the stress started piling on, I would pick and pick and pick at them until there was nothing left.

(My nails were mostly always short during my first marriage. They got much better after we split up.)

Then I got pregnant with Pirate Baby. Pregnancy hormones are AMAZING!!! My nails were longer and thicker than I could ever imagine! When he was born, I was so stressed during the time he was in the hospital that I destroyed them again. But it didn't take long for them to grow back out. I've now gone more than 3 months with them always looking pretty. I actually even have to cut them back sometimes! (I don't think that's happened more than a couple times in the past!) I think this is the longest I've gone with them constantly looking nice. I used to have a problem with them peeling once they'd been long for a while - hasn't happened in over a year. Life is just pretty darn good these days. I have an incredible husband, two great kids, a nice house and a quiet life. Those balance out the other hard things of Pirate Surfer's health issue and my dad's death.

I feel pretty blessed, and my nails are a good reflection of that.

Just Because

I don't want to be looking at that Bubba guy's face first thing when I pull up my blog, so I'm including a video of my cute little guy. I hope this works.

Soon after filming this, Pirate Baby rolled over for the first time. I managed to get him to do it on camera minutes later, but I say his name on that video, so I'll keep it off my blog. This one is just him being generally cute. This was filmed March 25, when he was 3 months and 3 days old.

Sunday Also Starts With an S

It's been pointed out to me that so many of my postings lately have been sad. Since I just posted yet another sad one tonight, I thought I should lighten the mood a little.

I know it's not Saturday, but will you forgive me for a Stupid Criminal Sunday?

(This story is from espn.com. I edited a little to take out details I don't care about. You can read the whole article here.)


James Stewart arrested in Florida

Two-time AMA Supercross champion James Stewart Jr. was arrested on charges of impersonating a police officer Monday near his home in central Florida.

A spokesperson for the Florida Highway Patrol said Stewart, 25, who is known as "Bubba," was driving a black 2008 Toyota Tundra on State Road 417 in Osceola County when he approached a car containing two off-duty Florida state troopers and an off-duty Osceola County sheriff's deputy.

Police said Stewart turned on red-and-blue flashing lights on his dashboard and the off-duty officers pulled to the side of the road. When the truck pulled alongside their vehicle, one of the troopers in the car identified himself as law enforcement, and Stewart sped off, police said.

The off-duty trooper phoned 911, and a short time later an Orange County Sheriff's deputy and Orlando Police officer pulled over the truck driven by Stewart at Orlando International Airport. Stewart and his passenger, 44-year-old Quinalt Thames Jehrrod of Los Angeles, were arrested. Police said they found the lights in Jehrrod's luggage.

Sergeant Kim Montes of the Florida Highway Patrol said Stewart told officers he bought the lights at a flea market.

Stewart was charged with impersonating a police officer and Jehrrod was charged with tampering with evidence. Both charges are felonies.

Stewart's truck was seized.

Dude! I just went to the flea market and spent my TV money on this cool thing at the flea market!
(Seriously, the guy has his own TV show!)
Police lights! Man, that's awesome!
Let's go drive around and pull random people over just for fun!
Great idea! There's no way THAT can go wrong!

The One I Don't Want to Write

I've been really quiet lately for good reason. The last month and a half have been really hard. I've had the flu followed by a cold, Pirate Baby has had the same cold, and Surfer Pirate has been struggling with some of his own health issues.

But the hardest by far happened on February 26, 2011. A very special man was called Home to his Heavenly Father.

When my mother was in college, she met and fell in love with a very sweet and funny man. Differences in priorities led them in different directions. They both moved on, married, had children and went through divorces. More than 3 decades later, he found her on their college alumni association website, and they communicated via email for a few years. In 2000, they decided to "grow up and get married." So in June 2000, this great man became an official member of our family.

Dad loved his family more than anything in the world. They were everything to him. I felt honored that he considered me as much his daughter as his own daughters. He took great joy in his grandchildren and loved spending time with them. He stepped into the role of our family patriarch with the wisdom and respect that the job entailed. We were all greatly blessed to have his love and support.

He also loved God. Serving the Lord and learning more about His plan for him were very dear to his heart.

His other great love was fishing. He looked forward to getting out there and catching the biggest salmon in the river. You can see the pure pleasure in his face in the above picture - fishing and spending time with his oldest grandson.

In 2005, a major heart issue left him paralyzed. Once he recovered, he never let it slow him down. He was always coming up with ways he could do things he'd previously done, just with his wheelchair. Even fishing. He was very excited when he found a place he could fish from his chair.

His heart continued to give him problems through the years. This winter, it finally was too worn out. His last days in this world were spent with family.


And I can't write any more than that because my heart can't take it. His loss is deeply felt in our family and we feel privileged to have known, loved and been loved by him. I miss you Dad.

Unconventional Mommyhood

I've never been a fan of anything that was over-hyped. If everyone is watching it, reading it, talking about it, I'm not interested. So when all the Chicken Soup for the Soul books came out, I wasn't even the slightest bit curious.

But then my dad surprised me and sent us a bunch of Christmas presents! He doesn't do much for holidays, so that was quite a shock. Even more shocking was that he included TWO gifts for me! Amazingly, jewelry! And he also sent me a copy of Chicken Soup for the Expectant Mother's Soul. (He felt bad that it didn't arrive until after I was no longer an expectant mother, but I still really appreciated his gift.)

So I read the book, and was pleasantly surprised at how much I loved it. I also am quite glad that they covered all aspects of the "expectant" mother spectrum. Pregnancy, Adoption (both adoptive and birth parent perspectives) and even Surrogacy.

What I found interesting was that even having just been through the birth of my first biological child, it wasn't the pregnant mother stories that touched me the most. It was the stories involving adoption that had me blubbering.

As I've mentioned before, Pirate Munchkin is adopted, and I thought I would share her story.

My ex-husband and I started trying to have a child of our own when we'd been married a year and a half. I went to the OB-Gyn office to have a basic exam done to make sure we were good to go. The nurse practitioner who I met with (no doubt seeing the way my eyes sparkled with insane amounts of hope) told me that most healthy couples take a year to conceive. I told her I understood. Secretly, I knew she was wrong in my case. In my head, I said "yeah right, see you in two months!"

Months passed. Nothing.

By the time we hit six months, I had become very depressed. It was a dark time in my life. Looking back, it's laughable. If I'd had any idea how much time it would take before I became a mother, that six months was no big deal.

After seven very long years of hoping and praying - pleading actually - I still hadn't given up hope. I had watched pregnancy after pregnancy after pregnancy of my friends, family and co-workers, but I was just sure every month that the next month was going to be my time.

The ex and I went to a movie almost every Saturday afternoon. One particular Saturday in September of 2005 was no exception. My ex was late to almost everything - work, church, time with friends, etc. - but he was NEVER late to a movie. We were always there 20-30 minutes before the previews even started. So, on this Saturday afternoon, we were sitting in the movie theater talking and waiting for the movie to start, and his cell phone rang. It was his sister. She asked him a question that would change the rest of my life. "Would you be willing to adopt my granddaughter?"

I knew immediately what she was talking about. My ex was 11 years older than me. His sister was a year older than he was. She'd become a mom at a very young age, so by this point, she was a grandmother. Her son's girlfriend had been pregnant the same time my best friend was. We had invited them to our house for Thanksgiving the year before, and I'd gone out of my way to make sure she was comfortable - treating her the way I would have treated my best friend if she'd been able to be there. We'd heard sometime later that they'd gotten into some trouble and their baby girl had been put in the foster care system. In asking questions, we found out that the birth parents had run out of time with the foster system and were going to lose their rights to this little girl. If they could find family members to adopt her, they would still be able to see her on occasion.

We told her we needed to think about it.

I don't have a clue what the movie was, and I'm sure I didn't pay the least bit of attention to it. The only thought I could process was the word "Wow" over and over.

By the next morning, we were both feeling like this was something we wanted to do. But I wasn't sure if that was exactly the right thing for us or for this child. I'd been praying, but didn't feel like I had my answer yet. He left for work, and I went to church.

Once a month in my church, we have a testimony meeting - where anyone who feels like it has the opportunity to get up in front of the congregation and talk about whatever they feel in their hearts to say. Prayer, the scriptures, love of family and serving others are regular topics. That morning, an older gentleman got up and talked about his family. As long as I've known him and his wife, I've known that all of their children are adopted. He specifically talked about how blessed he was to have been able to adopt. When he got done and sat down, his son - who was in town that weekend with his wife and children - also got up and talked about how lucky he was to have been adopted into that family as an infant. The tears streamed down my face as I realized I had been given my answer. This little girl was meant to be mine.

We'd gotten some pictures of her from the birth parents. I scanned one of the pictures and emailed it to my mom with no explanation. She emailed me back "She's very pretty, but who is she?" My response of "Your new granddaughter" prompted an immediate phone call for explanation. :)

The social worker arranged for us to meet her. I will always remember what she wore that evening, tan suede pants with a little flare at the bottom and a pale pink shirt with a little girl on it. She was very sullen and scared, not sure who these people were. I had bought a very soft stuffed monkey for her. She took it shyly. I wanted so badly to just hold her and snuggle with her, but I resisted the urge knowing it would probably scare her more. By the end of the visit, she would let us hold her, and we got a picture of the three of us together.

We met the current foster mom - a retired nurse who was amazing with her foster kids. This little girl had been bounced around so much in her short little life that she was very sullen and scared. She wasn't walking or talking by the time she'd arrived there, but in the month or so that she'd lived there, she was walking, starting to talk, and was starting to give hugs and like to snuggle. The foster mom was more than willing to open her home to us so we could get to know our baby while we went through the steps of getting her.

We started the process of adoption. Since she was ward of the state, we had to become licensed foster parents first. Once that was done, she would be placed with us and then we had to wait 6 months to make sure our family was a good fit for her before we could file adoption paperwork. The classes were long and tiring. And frustrating! I just wanted my baby girl!

Once we were licensed, the process was gradual. The first step was a few hours with her one evening outside of her foster home. We went to McDonalds for chicken nuggets and then back to our house to meet the fur family. (The picture above is from that night - she found the kitties fascinating!) After that, we were able to take her for a day, and then by Halloween, we were taking her overnight.

Finally, on November 15th, 2005 when Pirate Munchkin was 18 months old, she was ours!

By then, she knew she could trust us, and she was having severe attachment issues. I remember one morning as clear as if it just happened. It was her first day of daycare. I had gone outside to start my car so it was warmed up before I put her in it. She stood at the front door sobbing! I'd never started my car so fast! I hurried back into the house, scooped her up and rocked her - promising I would always come back for her and that I was her mommy forever and ever. It still breaks my heart to think how many times she'd been moved around - no stability in her life.

The adoption process took longer than I expected - almost a year. But on September 1st, 2006, she was legally declared my little girl!

Sadly, the adoption didn't end the losses she would have in her childhood. The ex and I got divorced. We'd been fostering her baby sister, and the birth parents were able to regain custody. The loss of our Angel Baby was hard on her. And probably the most difficult was when the ex decided he was no longer able to be a good father and gave up his rights to her (although in turn, Surfer Pirate had already become the best father a child could ever ask for, and we were able to make that legal last summer.) But through it all, she has grown into a lovely, smart happy girl. She laughs easily, makes friends everywhere she goes, loves books and animals and is too smart for her own good.

And I love her more than words can even express.

Captain Kitty is Trying to Kill Me

Our house has a cool feature that's just perfect for a household with dogs who like to steal cat food. There is a ledge above our basement stairs that's a perfect place for cat food. It has a small walkway to get to it. With a baby gate in the doorway to the stairs, it's a fortress of doggy-proofness.

Except filling the cat food can be hazardous.

Especially with Captain Kitty's new habit.

The thing about the ledge is that it's on the far side of the stairs - so you have to go down several stairs to get to it. Captain Kitty thinks it's a good idea to be on the stairs when I fill their food. Directly in front of my feet.

I'd swear he's trying to trip me so I'll fall to my death and they can figure out how to raid the fridge.

Birth Story Forgotten Detail

I almost forgot.

The night before I went into labor with Pirate Baby, there was a lunar eclipse. There was a discussion on my birth board on BBC that a bunch of us would probably go into premature labor because of it. I figured that would definitely happen, but knew I wouldn't be one of them. Not me. I was going to go late.

And then my water broke the next night.

For the record, two other women from the group who were due in late January had their babies within days of Pirate Baby's birth. So at least I wasn't alone.


Darn moon.

Bleh

(First of all, if you haven't seen Despicable Me, go rent it right now, right now, right now! Funniest movie I've seen in a long time!)

Long before this hysterical movie came out, back when my sister was spending quite a bit of time in hospitals, she declared a great truth: It's good to have minions.

After 5 days in the hospital when Pirate Baby was born, I discovered just how very right that is. It's an amazing thing having people who's job it is to clean up after you, bring you food, constantly ask you if you need anything, etc, etc.

Pretty much as soon as my mom found out I was pregnant, she was making plans to come visit. The plan was she would be here the end of January, and Pirate Baby was supposed to go along with that plan - being born near the end of the month. (Preferably on the 30th, my sister's birthday.) She was going to cook and clean and take care of me while I recovered from having a baby.

Good plan, right?

Then Pirate Baby decided he didn't like that idea, and he came over a month early.

Mom bought insurance for her tickets so she could change them if needed, but Dad was having health problems and she couldn't leave him.

But the time came for her trip, and Dad was (barely) healthy enough for her to go. She's been here for a week, and it's been heaven. My mom is amazing! She's one of my closest friends, and I can tell her pretty much anything. She's an incredible cook, and has been stuffing us silly with good foods. I've spent more time than I should admit sitting in a chair doing basically nothing while she kept my house in order. But she let me!

See? It's good to have minions.

Sadly, she leaves tomorrow. We're all really sad to see her go, but Dad needs her at home. I'm okay with it.

So why is it that NOW when she's getting ready to go; NOW when she has to fly out tomorrow; NOW when things need to be getting back on a regular schedule around here, I get sick? I'm having hot and cold flashes and my stomach feels awful. I've got a fridge full of yummy food, and it all makes me feel sicker.

Phooey.

Someone please contact Universal Studios and ask them how I can get minions of my own.

Ahh, the Early 80's!

Pageboy haircuts - parted down the middle.

Cheesy outdoor background (just 2 Montana girls magically transported to a Southern Plantation)

Wagon wheel - because doesn't EVERYONE go around leaning on wagon wheels?

Matching sweaters. (Okay, I kind of like that part.)

But check out my sister's gorgeous butterfly collar! Isn't it the picture of late 70's early 80's perfection??



I have a whole collection of pictures of the two of us in matching clothes. That could become fun regular posting material...