I am not the New Marketing Director for Milton Bradley

Two days ago I was part of a brutal hostage negotiation situation.

It lasted around 40 minutes, but felt like four hours.  At one point I feared for the lives of my boys, but there was nothing I could do.  I had to be brave and patient and a bunch of other things I'm not very good at.

I am talking, of course, about Candy Land.

Oh, Candy Land, how do I loathe thee?  Let me count the ways:  You last forever.  FOREVER.  You teach nothing but basic color recognition and how to take turns, and let's be honest, I can get that from Uno and actually have fun in the process.  Worst of all, you are achingly, mind-numbingly boring.  Hey, look, I drew a yellow.  And now I drew a blue.  Yellow again.  What's this?  Two greens in a row?  What am I going to do with all this dopamine flooding through my brain at the euphoria induced by skipping my plastic gingerbread man twice across the board?  Well, don't worry, I have 45 MORE MINUTES to figure it out.

At one point I was so worried my brain was going to revolt and force me into a sanity-saving coma that I began reading way too much into the Candy Land characters.




Lord Licorice:

The villain in this tale, I figure he either has an eating disorder, a tapeworm, or is French.  Caedmon just got mad I kept referring to him as a, well, him; it's very clear to Caedmon that Lord Licorice is a woman.  I haven't engaged in a Man or Woman debate this heated since my sister Kelli and I saw a picture of Michael Jackson on the cover of People magazine in the late '80s.  (For the record, she said Woman, I said Man.  I'm still not entirely sure who was right.)

Gramma Nutt:

Her house disturbs me more than anything.  She's obviously not one of those grandmas who believe Cleanliness is Next to Godliness, and how exactly does that chimney work in a house made of peanut brittle?  Not to mention the fact that she better have one heck of a septic system if all she's eating is peanuts.  

Jolly:

Elton John.

Plumpy:

Eats his feelings.  (According to The Legend of the Lost Candy Castle:  "...But ever since the King's disappearance, Plumpy does more eating than gathering... growing more plump and more glum with every bite of a plum.")

Gloppy:

I'm confused.  Is he eating himself?  That's, like, extreme cannibalism.  

King Kandy:

Might as well be wearing a sign that reads, "Come on in, children!  I'm definitely not a pedophile in 14 states!"

The Spectrum of Human Emotion at the Bowling Alley

Disgruntlement

Terrified Wonder

Good-Natured Dissatisfaction

Love

Smug Happiness

Patience

Regret

Elation

Joy

Humor

What's On My Nightstand

Last week Common Household Mom shared a photo of an excellent stack of books on her bedside table, then asked the question:

"What's on your nightstand?"

Well.  I don't have a nightstand.  But I do have a house!  (Um, my house is my nightstand?  Never mind, that's an atrocious metaphor.)  I tend to sprinkle books throughout the house, depositing one or two in the places where I frequently find myself.  Although when I put it like that, I have to wonder why I don't have one in the laundry room.

This was the downstairs bathroom book a couple days ago (THAT'S RIGHT- I'm starting with the bathroom, and I refuse to be ashamed, because as J.K. Rowling puts it, "I never need to find time to read.  When people say to me, 'Oh, yeah, I love reading.  I would love to read, but I just don't have the time,' I'm thinking, 'How can you not have the time?'  I read when I'm drying my hair.  I read in the bath.  I read when I'm sitting in the bathroom.  Pretty much anywhere I can do the job one-handed, I read."), but it was so good it was quickly upgraded to a couch book:

I wrote a bit about this book a few days ago.  So lovingly funny.  I inhaled it in a single afternoon, so it's no longer on the couch.

The current downstairs bathroom book:

Pictures of Hollis Woods by Patricia Reilly Giff.  Adelaide reads and loves an enormous amount of books, but she rarely goes out of her way to recommend one to me, telling me repeatedly how good it was.  This was one of those, and halfway through, I'm really pulling for the protagonist, a foster child trying to find her forever home.

Catch-22 is the current dining room table book.  It's one of those that's sharp and grimly funny and really quite appalling at times.  I'm finding it relatively funny, but I have a feeling you'd have to have been a soldier in a war to really get everything Heller is trying to comment and shed light upon.  This is reinforced by the 5-star rating Luis Carlos Montalvan (author of Until Tuesday, impressively decorated 17-year U.S. military veteran) gave it on Goodreads.  

Bedroom book:

The House I Loved by Tatiana de Rosnay.   I don't love it quite as much as Sarah's Key, one of her previous novels, but it's still a book that draws you in.  The setting is probably my favorite part:  1860's Paris, when Napoleon and Haussman are tearing huge sections of old Paris apart to make way for wide boulevards, modern water systems, and other much-needed improvements that nonetheless reduce centuries-old houses and cobblestone streets to rubble.  The protagonist has lived in one of these old sections slated for demolition her entire life, and can't let go of the house that holds so many memories of her late husband. The picture de Rosnay paints of old-world Paris is charming and beautiful, and so far she's doing a terrific job of describing the tug between letting go of the emotional attachments to architectural history and an old way of life and the need to modernize in order to reduce the risk of such diseases as cholera and to admit modes of transportation of the future.  

Traveling Companion:

I always try to have a book in my bag in case I get stuck waiting somewhere, and this one, Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, fulfills this function perfectly, as it's easy to pick up, read just a few pages, then put back down.  This is only the second book by Lamott I've read, but her nonfiction is definitely the type that needs to be savored, so a few pages at a time followed by long periods of noodling and mental digestion help me get the most out of her work.  She's funny.  She's smart.  She has a perspective on the Christian walk that is very Other to what I often encounter in my relatively safe, white bread world, and I love it.  I just read her book Traveling Mercies a couple weeks ago, which I also recommend.

There you have it.  My nightstand.

June in Photos+Words

Somehow June is over.  While I'm not entirely sure how this happened, I thought it would be fun to do a "June in Photos" post with just pictures and no words, but then I remembered that I'm me and I can't do no words.  So I'm just going to put up a bunch of pics of stuff we did a lot in June, and also type a bunch of words in between.  Gracious, this post is breathtakingly exciting already.

Adelaide and I spent a lot of time sitting on the front porch, reading and sipping iced coffee (which can I just say is half milk with a heavy dollop of creamer, and it's a small glass full of ice, so just back off, mother-hating, caffeine-eschewing antagonists) (turns out I'm also a tad defensive today.  Huh.), because June was bee-you-ti-full, at least until it started raining and never ever stopped <insert requisite diluvial joke here>.  

And when the cats and dogs started a-comin' down, we moved ourselves indoors.  

We also forced reading upon others, me via this blog, Adelaide via the prisoners she calls toys.

Caedmon spent an alarming amount of time staring at his hands, which was a little worrisome until he told me he was trying to "get my fingers to do the fing that Spider-Man does when he shoots out his web."

This is not, in fact, how Spider-Man do, but I just have to ask:  Can you do this?  His ring finger is lying flat against his palm, his other four digits are extended straight, and he doesn't appear to be in any pain, which is all the opposite of what happens when I try and contort my hand in just such a fashion.

Our June was, of course, full of flowers, as we are not heathens.  Hello, peonies.

Hello, Huning lily.

These lilies, transplanted from Kansas to our fertile Iowa soil, have spread several feet in both directions and are seemingly intent on backyard domination.  I'll have to divide them next year, if anyone's in the market for ditch lilies.

Hello, yarrow.

Hello, Asiatic lilies.

Hello, scrumptious basil and vivid coleus.

Halloo, zucchini jungle.

Hello, spider in my sunflower.

You'll have to click to embiggen in order to see the spider and his web.

The boys spent mucho time golfing in the backyard.

That's a lovely golfer's tan you're wearing, Derek.

I became a bit obsessive over the birds nesting in our front yard.

Look at their wittle grumpy faces.  Haven't they grown?

You know what almost all these photos have in common?  GREEN.  They're all so green!  Time is racing by, and I'm trying to enjoy how lush it is outside without panicking a bit at the thought that every day we're a bit closer to the white wasteland that is winter.  You know, just to end this post on a positive note.

Five Things Friday

Here's this week's five wonderful things, from me to you:

• About a year ago I came across a superb idea on Pinterest for a better way to fold t-shirts.  This sounds drab and dreary and boring, I know, but just hang on, now, because this may not transform your entire life, but it will transform a couple of your dresser drawers, which sounds trivial, but I swear to you I feel happy every time I open my t-shirt drawer.

We live in an old house that's short on storage space, most notably closets, but thankfully soon after we moved in Derek's grandpa built us a pair of built-in dressers for our bedroom.  Now I had a place for my clothes, but for some reason folding them the traditional way (why does this make me laugh?  like, "ah, yes, the folding methods of yore") created a slop pile of shirts within the drawer.  Enter this new, rolling way of folding!  (Click on the link above for specific instructions.)  It keeps wrinkles to a minimum, I can fit more clothing in each drawer, and I can see each item of clothing with no digging.  Perfect.

• This post on Ann Voskamp's blog about procrastination.  Listen, I'm a seasoned procrastinator.  Why do today what you can put off 'til tomorrow, and all that.  If there's something specific I'm putting off, my house will be clean, my books get read, I'll find all manner of things to do to put that loathsome activity off for as long as humanly possible.  I have gotten loads better in recent years (growing up and maturing and all that necessary junk), but still- I'm a procrastinator at heart.  This post helped me to fold a formidable mountain of laundry and shampoo the carpets and do a couple other things I'd been meaning to do for a day or two (WEEKS, OKAY?  I'd been putting off shampooing the carpets for weeks.).  My brain has already supplied some perfectly acceptable reasons not to wash the sheets and clean out the fridge this afternoon, so it looks like I'll be re-reading this post every other day until it sticks.  Hey, change takes time, right?

• Thunderstorms.  This is one of the things I missed most while living in Connecticut, although Derek and I did share some gleeful chortling on the rare occasion a smallish clap of thunder would boom in the Connecticut skies, causing the natives to flinch while casting fearful looks toward the heavens.  Oh, New England.  We've had tons of rain over the past week (and by "tons" I obviously mean 3 and 5/8 inches), but I've decided not to complain about it, because that rain has been accompanied by thunder and a smidgen of lightning- nothing really severe, just fun.  

• This book:

The woman describes what it's like to grow up lovingly ensconced in a small midwestern town with total accuracy, and does it with such humor that I had to lay my head down on the table a few times, I was laughing so hard.  This book made a rough day better.  I loved it so much I may have to get my own copy (gasp!).

• The eggs hatched!  Last Sunday evening I went to check the robins' nest, and behold:

See it?  Sweet little Ugly there, on the left?  

Based on my highly exact method of zooming in as much as possible and stretching my arm way up to snap a picture, I think there are three hideous baby robins in there.  Perhaps four.  Their mama's gone most of the time, no doubt hunting up tasty morsels for which they'll no doubt be completely ungrateful.  I should note that even when taking photos, I try not to get too close to the nest; I don't want to scare the mother off or leave my objectionable human scent all over the place.  Babies!

A Purposeful Paucity of Lists

I've been trying to wean myself off of lists.

Not in general, but here, on the blog.  I've been leaning so hard on them that, combined with the cheery nature of my Five Things Fridays lists, I've begun to feel a bit like Tiny Tim with his crutch and his "God bless us, every one!"  I'm afraid that down this list-strewn path lay the inability to form a cohesive story and an attention span that lasts no longer than four sentences.

So far all that's come of this is a certain paralysis anytime I think about the blog.  I know it may often seem as if my upper limbs engaged in an ill-advised date with the rototiller and this blog is written by two bandaged stumps merrily smashing away at the keyboard.  (They have unerring aim for the bullet point button.). There is a certain amount of thought that goes into these posts, however, and yet take away my list format, and all I can think about is how for a time my sister believed our dad was the Zodiac Killer.  This sounds absurd, unless you actually know my dad- not that he's the type of person you meet and think,  I bet you drive a sketchy white paneled van, because he's actually very charming and funny and makes a mean pot of chili.  It's just that he's also a little eccentric and has serial killer handwriting, plus he's a crack shot- I mean, I'm sure if his neighbors were informed of his newfound criminal status at first they'd be like, "WHAT?  No way! He's such a nice guy!"  But then after a day or so they'd start saying, " Yeah, I can see that."  Kelli did eventually decide our father is not a mass murderer (phew!), although not before I read a murder mystery where the demented villain just happens to share the first and last names of my father.  But then, so does one of our local meteorologists.  I don't know what that says about the weather guy- I'd have to see his handwriting.

Haha!  I did it! It's barely coherent, but I wrote a list-less post.  Not listless, you understand, just lacking a list.

Five Things Friday

I need everyone to do me a favor and pretend that today is Friday.  So we're all in agreement, then?  Today is Friday!  Happy Friday, everyone!  That means today is Five Things Friday!  Here's what's great this week.

• Adelaide + Hair.  Adelaide has been working on her braiding skillz; having mastered various random triplicate strands made out of things like plastic and wax, she has moved on to human hair.  As I am the only other person in the house with a long, braidable mane, she has been working on my hair frequently, which is great because

• Air conditioning.  I am beyond thankful for AC this week.  It's been hot, and it's been humid, and it makes me think of a couple summers ago when we didn't have a functioning AC, and I was third trimester pregnant with Caedmon and wanted to die.  I say a prayer of thanks every time the AC kicks on, every time I walk into our house which doesn't feel like a Native American sweat lodge, and at random times throughout the day when I'm not at risk for heat stroke in my own home.  I'm not sure that I'll ever take air conditioning for granted again.  Amen.

• Librarians.  This time it's because of a great resource one of our favorite librarians directed me toward- see, I've been trying to incorporate daily math into our schedule over the summer, and while Adelaide has been great about reminding me about her daily multiplication flash cards, aside from that I kind of suck at remembering things, especially things that I don't really like to begin with, like math.  Enter bedtimemath.org!  They send you an email every day with a fun math problem for your kiddos to complete, or if you have one of those fancy smart phones, they also have an app.  Here's today's (because today is Friday, remember?) daily math problem to give you an idea- I really like the fact that I can read the same problem to all three kids, but there are different questions for each age group.  We do not, however, do these at bedtime.  I do not need one more thing to do that close to the finish line.

• Dots.  If you value your productivity or your sanity, do not, I repeat, DO NOT start playing this game.  Derek downloaded it to our tablet for Adelaide.  She played it a few times and enjoyed it.  I decided I'd see what all the fuss was about, especially when I heard it described as "like Tetris or Bejeweled."  What I'd forgotten was Carl Jung's tidbit of wisdom:  "Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotic be alcohol, morphine, or idealism or Dots."  I may have paraphrased a bit there.  This game.  Gaaah.

• Robins.  There's a nest that's been on a branch that overhangs our sidewalk for a few years now, and this spring a couple robins moved in.  As it turns out robins are the HGTV of birds and now instead of boring old twigs and grass for furnishings, they've gone for the modern look and weaved duct tape into their nest.  A nice long strand even hangs down from their newly remodeled dwelling, dangling in your face should you happen down our sidewalk.  We noticed what I assume is the mama sitting in the nest for a couple weeks straight, only leaving for short times a couple times a day.  But today both parents are present, which caused perhaps uncalled-for levels excitement amongst the Crisler offspring.  (And who hollered them out of the house with "YOU GUYS, GET OUT HERE!  IT'S MAMA AND PAPA ROBIN!"?  Um... yeah.  Me.)  

Staring at birds.  It's an exciting life we lead around here.

Anyone know when I can be expecting grand-birdies?  My knowledge of the life cycle of the American Robin is nil.