tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-144619192024-03-07T01:59:20.340-05:00my shorebeckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.comBlogger280125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-37399426170588388492014-02-12T14:59:00.000-05:002014-02-12T14:59:38.777-05:00binge reading<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After spending months reading only the newsfeed on Facebook, Google news on my phone, and the 10 novels I have managed to extract from the many boxes of books in the garage since our move * I have finally found a new favorite author. The binge reading has begun. I'm currently devouring the work of George Saunders. He has a wonderful conversational style in his non-fiction reporting and some gorgeous, gorgeous insights. Example:<br />
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<i>You know that feeling at the end of the day, when the anxiety of that-which-I-must-do falls away and, for maybe the first time that day, you see, with some clarity, the people you love and the ways you have, during that day, slightly ignored them, turned away from them to get back to what you were doing, blurted out some mildly hurtful thing, projected, instead of the deep love you really feel, a surge of defensiveness or self-protection or suspicion? That moment when you think, Oh God, what have I done with this day? And what am I doing with my life? And what must I change to avoid catastrophic end-of-life regrets?</i><br />
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<i>I feel like that now: tired of the Me I’ve always been, tired of making the same mistakes, repetitively stumbling after the same small ego strokes, being caught in the same loops of anxiety and defensiveness. At the end of my life, I know I won’t be wishing I’d held more back, been less effusive, more often stood on ceremony, forgiven less, spent more days oblivious to the secret wishes and fears of the people around me. So what is stopping me from stepping outside my habitual crap?</i><br />
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(That was from this essay: <a href="http://longform.org/stories/the-incredible-buddha-boy" target="_blank">The Incredible Buddha Boy.</a> ) <br />
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I read those paragraphs and a gong went off in my chest. YES. YES! I am sometimes so sick of myself-- "<i>being caught in the same loops of anxiety and defensiveness". </i>My self-professed, so far barely pursued New Year's Resolution is to somehow slough off that Me and move on to what Mr. Saunders in<a href="http://6thfloor.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/07/31/george-saunderss-advice-to-graduates/?_php=true&_type=blogs&_r=0" target="_blank"> this speech </a>refers to as Mostly Love. <br />
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It's interesting to me how relatable, almost cliche concepts like those in the quote above ("seize the day", "if you love 'em, tell 'em") can still strike the gong in my chest from time to time and wake me up. Maybe I'm just a neurotic who finds validation in the natter of another neurotic. I guess it doesn't matter, though, does it? If the end result is a kinder, gentler me?<br />
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Anyway, Google George Saunders. Beyond the essays and other non-fiction, his fiction is pleasantly strange and somewhat arresting. He's decidedly uncool throughout, a trait I prize in an author or really anyone. Another cool yet uncool author is David Foster Wallace, also worth a binge read.<br />
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*oh yeah, we moved. Again. Back to Texas. I don't want to talk about it.</div>
beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-11610640343229879982013-04-23T15:42:00.003-04:002013-04-23T15:42:42.064-04:00family tree paper craft<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Here are a few not-great images of a beautiful family tree my SIL made for me. I love it!<br />
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beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-57682337548993531692013-04-01T11:38:00.001-04:002013-04-01T19:01:52.387-04:00Walmart: a complicated relationship<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">The Saturday before Easter I found myself once again in The Crappiest Place on Earth determined to "make it quick" and come home with my soul intact. All three (3! still get a thrill when I say it) kids were with me so it was of course 2 hours to buy 15 items. We spent many dozens of minutes looking for the elusive Tech Deck Trick Bike and still more time looking for a salesperson. No matter, at least we had this carefully curated selection of mini license plates to cheer us (we celebrated this find with a punctuation lesson). <br />
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And who doesn't love a pair of googly eyes on a toddler? <br />
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I loathe Walmart and yet find myself there at least once a month. Target is 20 minutes away. Walmart has such good prices on diapers. Sometimes I need pillows and raspberries in the same shopping trip. These are the reasons I tell myself for shopping there. The guilt and shame remain, however. The guilt and shame remain.beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-16349202162304538162013-03-13T23:43:00.002-04:002013-03-13T23:43:26.353-04:00submarine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Most mornings at 3 a.m. you will find me in the Tiny Woman's nursery feeding her. Some nights it's 1 am, 3 am, 5 am, etc., but we're usually down to one nighttime feeding (yes!). I try my very hardest to stay as close as possible to half-asleep in the hopes that I will fall back asleep more easily. The only light in the room comes from the weak blue glow of the power button on the white noise machine in the corner. It's one of those multi-function bits of infant technology that my ancestors would probably mock if they were around. I'm fully aware of the fact that entire families used to share a room (or even a bed full of itchy straw or something) and somehow managed to still get up and plant turnips in the morning.<br />
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Anyway, we use this machine every night and it has become part of the bedtime routine. It features several noise settings meant to mimic the sounds of the womb. I always wonder how accurate these settings are because one of them honestly sounds like Hong Kong during rush hour. (I swear there's honking noises in there and maybe some Chinese swears.) My setting of choice has a heartbeat-like sound and a sort of waves-on-the-beach background. Occasionally there is also a faint pinging noise, like that of a submarine in an old movie. Bathed in the blue light, navigating the dark nursery with my eyes half-closed I'm a sort of sub-marine traveler myself, with Tiny Woman as First Mate. If you're going to be up half the night you should have a companion.</div>
beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-70933693036935319402013-02-20T21:26:00.000-05:002013-02-20T21:26:05.890-05:00my hiatus<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So I have neglected this blog for many months. I had a few legitimate reasons. Exhibit A: nearly full-time job as an assistant high school librarian. I really loved, REALLY loved that job, but, sadly, it didn't pay well enough for me to stay there and afford day care for Exhibit B: <br />
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Tiny Woman! Born on November 15, 2012. A wonderful little baby. We're having so much fun together... At all hours of the day and night. My favorite moments with her are bathtime, tummy time (love the pencil neck look of little babies as they try to hold up their enormous noggins), and the exquisitely funny look on her face when I try to feed her and she's not particularly hungry. Something like, "Oh, really, no! I just couldn't eat another bite!"<br />
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After 13 solid years in LegoNerfMinecraftHotWheelsSkateboard Land I finally have someone to watch Downton with! She doesn't really seem to care much about the social structure of England during WWI but she'll learn, she'll learn.</div>
beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-71877282277796499122011-11-02T19:53:00.002-04:002011-11-03T10:50:02.786-04:00the future is now<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Remember when George Jetson's boss used to call him up on the videophone to yell at him? I always cringed at the idea of answering the phone in person (8 am, greasy hair and face, Almond Joy in hand, embarrassing 80s music playing in the background). Speaking by phone hides a multitude of sins, not to mention eye rolls and blah-blah-blah motions made with one's hand. </div>
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And although we are still largely a traditional family when it comes to phone calls, one of us (Flash, age 11) is tiptoeing into the Facetime Era. It's a really great way for him to keep in touch with old friends in our last two states of residence. </div>
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I have no problem with Facetime on principle--when I know it's happening. Lately I have found myself mid-lecture only to notice the face of Justin or Tyler or Jaden or whomever on the side of the desk, patiently waiting for the crazy woman to wrap it up. While I'm generally annoyed in that moment (and possibly embarrassed: see greasy face/Almond Joy above), I have to admit Facetime is making me a better parent. It's as if a sort of non-creepy Big Brother camera could be recording me at any moment. I find myself thinking--breathing--for a minute before I talk to my kids. It's a good habit, I think. Now where's my dinner-making machine?</div>
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<br /></div>beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-29141058903423869002011-10-20T16:15:00.000-04:002011-10-20T16:15:47.553-04:00decoupage is dangerous<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicvxJza9GLxiwLa9OLQrNrs1dzdgJCGlGSvJUjKfwhPLn6TykceBoITqlO0CRAjU5FjyxzfFWneTnoRmAms0YxKTMrcr9gnyvJxl9X0W36Ngq-R9IFKR6m7vt4HzeFYcY6f6BL/s1600/late+summer+2011+075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicvxJza9GLxiwLa9OLQrNrs1dzdgJCGlGSvJUjKfwhPLn6TykceBoITqlO0CRAjU5FjyxzfFWneTnoRmAms0YxKTMrcr9gnyvJxl9X0W36Ngq-R9IFKR6m7vt4HzeFYcY6f6BL/s320/late+summer+2011+075.JPG" width="264" /></a></div><br />
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I've had this sort of awful wooden vase-thing for years. At one point it occupied a place among other botanical items and blended in pretty well. Three houses later, it doesn't really "go" with anything in the living room (or any other rooms for that matter). It is sturdy and was only three bucks on clearance at Marshall's and what's more I've moved it <i>three times</i> in as many years. I'm not getting rid of it. Therefore it must be decoupaged. <br />
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I found some handmade paper at Cost Plus that very closely matches the new scheme in my living room (namely, using <i>color</i> instead of black, tan, and white). Picked up a jar of Mod Podge and...<br />
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Magical, isn't it? I had to trace each side of the vase separately as they don't really square up and there was a good bit of smoothing with a credit card but I'm happy with the result. <br />
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The only problem is that decoupage is so very easy and cheap. I now see any blank surface as deficient in some way. That lamp! Wouldn't it be so much more adorable with a paisley base? That dresser! I'm thinking polka-dots. That picture frame! Super Q's forearm! The dashboard of the car! Most of Nebraska! The possibilities are endless.<br />
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</div>beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-32769346881309628152011-10-01T22:21:00.000-04:002011-10-01T22:21:24.169-04:00you wanna ride bikes?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
One great thing about living in Arizona is the near constant possibility of a bike ride. Sometimes it may be a very short ride requiring a gallon of water and several forms of sun protection but you can truly get out there and pedal almost any old time. Today the kids and I had oh, about 8 hours to ourselves while dh worked (on a Saturday...ugh) and went to a church meeting. The boys quickly exhausted their screen time at which point we were faced with 6 hours to fill. Washed the car. Made pizzas. Regaled Mom with hilarious songs about Boots the Monkey getting attacked by aliens (sigh). My mood was deteriorating; half-heartedly I floated the idea of a bike ride. The boys agreed and we were off to the bike path. We rode farther than we ever had before and at the end we found a sweet little park with GRASS (a rarity here) and a sort of retaining pond with WATER in it (again, a rarity) surrounded by rocks just begging to be thrown in that water. <br />
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A few weeks ago Super Q and I took our bikes to the drugstore (night-time candy run). He was very earnest and serious about bicycle safety. Riding ahead of me, helmet slightly crooked, he indicated right turns, stops, and some crazy made-up signal for "straight ahead." As we left the busy street and entered our neighborhood, he yelled back to me, "In the neighborhood you don't have to walk your bike across the streets! Also there's no traffic lights!" You can learn a lot about bicycle safety from a 9 year old.<br />
</div>beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-84345557271565104042011-07-21T22:48:00.000-04:002011-07-21T22:48:33.081-04:00the neighbors<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Can I just take a moment and be petty? Thanks.<br />
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Our neighbors. They didn't make a great first impression. The first day we were here I noticed that everyone in their house from the 13 year old on up is a chain smoker. (The 6 and 4 year olds may as well be with all those smokers around.) <br />
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The man of the house introduced himself as "John Doe, nice to meet you. Just moving the wife out myself today, to an apartment. So are you on your own here as well?" Er, no... husband's around here somewhere, thank goodness.<br />
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The smoking doesn't affect me much (except when it wafts over to my clothesline, leaving everything with a fresh spring Marlboro scent): it's the TAWLKING! At all hours! Out on the back patio, which is approximately 3 feet away from our house (gotta love the suburbs). 6:00 am? Yes, they're back there enjoying the morning air (the husband and the wife both--maybe the apartment thing didn't work out after all). 11:30 pm? Well, perfect time to toss back some beers and laugh LOUDLY and not put the children to bed.<br />
We are blessed to hear every detail of their conversations--I now know exactly which middle manager at John's workplace is a ****head, information which is delivered in the worst nasal intonation possible.<br />
The beautiful part of it is that their dogs have no bedtime and no time inside the house. They are free to bark 24/7. <br />
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Now I've been petty on the internet. I'll have to post a lovely craft next time to make up for it.</div>beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-29571125121218873472011-07-09T00:58:00.000-04:002011-07-09T00:58:51.745-04:00Arizona primerWe're heeeeere! In Arizona!<br />
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... we've actually been here for 7 weeks, so maybe it's too late for exclamation points and everything. <br />
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So an incomplete primer for you on living in the desert. Bulleted for your enjoyment.<br />
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<ul><li>It is actually sunny 99% of the time. FOR REAL. (Here I add the disclaimer and acknowledgement that, yes, I grew up here. But haven't lived here for any real length of time since 1990. So it's all so <i>fresh</i> and <i>new</i>!) No<a href="http://myshore.blogspot.com/2010/02/plenty-of-clouds.html"> gray skies</a> yet! I wake up every morning to a clear, crazy-blue sky. It's so bright! I greet the morning with optimism and verve! And by 1:00 pm I'm a little sick of the sun. It's 106* outside, the kids are on hour 2 of xbox, surrounded by the detritus of several trips to the kitchen --Otter Pop wrappers, spoons with traces of Nutella on them, abandoned bowls of Cool Whip (!)--and I'm googling "free indoor playgrounds NOT chuck e. cheese's."</li>
<li>Everyone's thirsty all the time. I have never, NEVER, seen so many Circle K stores in my life. Every .5 miles, no joke. Not to mention the occasional <a href="http://quiktrip.com/">QT</a> store, which has Sonic-style ice AND fantastic chocolate flavoring to add to your Coke Zero. They also sell hot mac n' cheese for the kiddies. It's like a crack house. dh once went back for FOUR refills in one day. (We are aware that the man needs help.) At first I wondered, "Why all the convenience stores?" Why not just keep water in your car?" The answer to that is that the water in your car is also 106*. </li>
<li>We are thirsty and occasionally bored but trying so very hard to get along so we can do things like go see "Cats and Dogs 2: The Revenge of Kitty Galore" with contraband Walgreen's candy from Mom's purse. Sometimes we need a reminder:</li>
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</div><ul><li>When "Kitty Galore" is over and chores are done and xbox time exhausted and I'm saving the pool for <i>very last</i> I might attempt something crazy like try to teach the boys some Chinese. We don't have a whiteboard...</li>
</ul><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_lxgrqoK135wRd4EckF4un32hBQg-B9tCN4vjAY5lJzkIEZScSBdFcyzFws9m8BypdBlIMM21BHB4-6zHy7Lp0bwEeeAdGtmekpRMZFxPdACQ5bB14fxYfxcbnItx7h2DryHq/s1600/summer+2011+026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_lxgrqoK135wRd4EckF4un32hBQg-B9tCN4vjAY5lJzkIEZScSBdFcyzFws9m8BypdBlIMM21BHB4-6zHy7Lp0bwEeeAdGtmekpRMZFxPdACQ5bB14fxYfxcbnItx7h2DryHq/s320/summer+2011+026.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><ul><li style="text-align: left;">We also don't have<i> any grass at all</i>. We miss our giant deck and grass in Michigan, not to mention a high of 85*. Not to mention tons of friends and cousins. </li>
<li style="text-align: left;">We do have lots of family not too far away (hallelujah!). We got to see them all a few weeks ago and it was glorious! </li>
</ul><div style="text-align: left;">I think I've sort of abandoned the primer idea so no need for bullets. There's just one more thing. A lovely, wonderful book to recommend. <a href="http://www.powells.com/biblio/17-9780307265739-28">Unaccustomed Earth</a> by Jhumpa Lahiri. I've read (and adored) her other books and this one is beautifully written like the others, full of detail and real emotion. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><br />
<div></div>beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-17779239956082477272011-05-10T15:00:00.000-04:002011-05-10T15:00:07.800-04:00the vandal<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3245/3007336336_b583035cf2_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3245/3007336336_b583035cf2_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
In the past few weeks of endless, laborious, detailed cleaning (house is now on the market!) I have discovered that the 8 year old is way into graffiti. He has always commented on it and admired it as we drive along the freeway in Detroit; apparently he has been practicing it at home. I found it on the underside of the top bunk (written for his brother to see): "I smell like poo." "I wear titey witeys." Some sort of unidentifiable words are written in silver Sharpie on the outside of the house. More silver Sharpie all over his skateboard: "<a href="http://skateboard.about.com/od/skateboardingdictionary/g/GlosGoofy.htm">Goofy</a>" (his preferred method of riding the skateboard), "Caroline" (the much older girl he has a crush on), and "Wow" (his sarcastic response to just about everything.) Found some drawings on the ceiling of the car (not sure if those will ever come out), under the kitchen table, and on cereal boxes. I actually caught him with a can of spray paint in the garage the other day... he was going to paint a piece of cardboard leaning <i>right next to the car</i>. Hoping he ends up like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Banksy">Banksy</a> and not in juvi.</div>beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-73817703540756112011-05-08T19:24:00.000-04:002011-05-08T19:24:52.536-04:00my heart is full<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">"My heart is full today." People are always saying that when my church congregation meets. And today it's true for me. My heart is absolutely bursting with a tangly nest of emotions. So proud of my children, yet annoyed that they aren't a little more sensitive to all of this ridiculous cleaning I'm doing now that the house is on the market. So sad to be leaving Primary (our children's ministry) but also a little relieved at lessened church responsibility. Sad to leave our extended family here but glad to see more of the other extended family members in Arizona. Already missing the glory that is Michigan in the summertime, but a little annoyed at still needing to use the heater in May. <div><br />
</div><div>And on this day, Mother's Day, my heart is full of conflicting feelings about this work I do. Sometimes I think if things were just cuter around here--like Nie Nie's house, with super chic lamps and pillows--there would be a happier vibe. Sometimes I think I need to loosen up a LOT and let things get dirty and chaotic more often. There are days when I love mothering and I feel like we're really a happy family. More often I really worry that I'm messing up my kids and modeling undesirable habits and behavior (Diet Coke on the breakfast table, anyone?) I take comfort in the fact that each day I can tweak my mothering and hopefully improve.</div><div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
<div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div></div></div></div>beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-64384536904864783532011-04-14T10:50:00.000-04:002011-04-14T10:50:59.231-04:00breaking down<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">So we had an incredibly fabulous spring break in AZ. Checked out our new town, swam in some pretty cold water, ate out more than we have for months, soaked up the sun and extended family love. <br />
<br />
Returned to a very long to-do list, including some tasks that require some skills I do not yet possess (reinstall an earlier version of Windows, drill a 3/4" hole through metal, stand on a ladder on STAIRS to paint a super-tall wall, determine the cause of an unnerving clanking sound in garage door). The to-do list keeps growing because everything keeps breaking around here (sliding glass door, computer, hot water heater, car, aforementioned garage door). Actually some of these things have been broken for awhile but we've ignored them because our house was not about to (deep breath) be put on the market in MICHIGAN.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile the 8 year old is seriously missing his dad. Spontaneously sobbing. Doesn't want to go to school. Doesn't want to eat sometimes. <br />
<br />
Meanwhile the 11 year old is turning into a 13 year old (!). Extremely fond of talking back VERY LOUDLY.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile I'm trying to hold it together. Mostly succeeding (with one now-famous slip in which I uttered the s-word (shut up)). Looking forward to normal life again.</div>beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-85527500978233795632011-02-28T14:36:00.000-05:002011-02-28T14:36:16.336-05:00pinch me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I. Am. Moving. To. Arizona. <br />
And I can't believe it. 2 months ago I had visions--nightmares--of months of unemployment, desperation for any sort of job and ending up in North Dakota. Instead dh ended up with 4 offers (the result of lots of late nights spent tweaking resumes and cover letters). One of them was here in Michigan. I assumed we would take that one and forget about moving across the country again. After lots of prayer we came to the decision to leave our home here and accept a job in Tucson. Although I really struggle with winter weather and some other aspects of life in Michigan, this decision was extremely difficult for me. I worry about the impact of another change of schools and friends on my boys. I hate leaving the supportive net of uncles, aunts, cousins and grandparents (dh's family). At the same time I so look forward to seeing my parents and siblings more often. I feel that this is the right path for us to take. And if that path is lit by 276 days of sun per year and has the occasional taqueria alongside, so much the better.</div>beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-68480184254515980382011-02-23T12:45:00.000-05:002011-02-23T12:45:49.422-05:00cool things to distract me from Major Life Changes on the Horizon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I'm not as oddly peaceful today as I have been of late. The reality of moving again is seeping in at the seams a bit. The thought of the many, many details and days of hard work and time apart from my dh can be downright paralyzing. Add to that a <i>tremendously huge</i> decision we have to make about where to move (we are extremely fortunate to have two offers). Sometimes a girl just needs to give her brain a break and fill it with items more interesting and/or relaxing than moving quotes and carpet remnant stores:<br />
<br />
I love love <i>love</i> <a href="http://theinnocencemission.com/my%20room%20in%20the%20trees.htm">this new album</a> by my all-time favorite band, The Innocence Mission. You can listen a little at that link. It's exquisite, uplifting, and comforting. <br />
<br />
If I were as talented as Amy Karol I would <a href="http://angrychicken.typepad.com/angry_chicken/2011/02/a-plaid-jacket-and-a-book-review.html">make my own plaid coat </a>like she did. I can't imagine making a coat! At this point I can't imagine making anything as the tension on my machine has gone haywire, but still.<br />
<br />
I have spent a fair amount of time dealing with <a href="http://detnews.com/article/20110221/METRO/102210361/-1/ARCHIVE/More-snow-expected-tonight-in-lower-southeast-Michigan">snow</a> this week. Snow on the order of 10" or so. How long does it take to shovel a driveway full of snow, you ask? (2 hours, not counting the time spent digging two different teenager's cars out of the huge pile of slush left by the snowplow on our corner. My hands were freezing and the task seemed insurmountable but the shoveling itself--the repetition, the unbroken sea of white--was sort of relaxing, much like tending a Zen garden probably is. The absence of demanding children may have helped there.<br />
<br />
Seth Stevenson's <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2283004/">take on Disneyworld</a> is very very funny.<br />
<br />
... and that's about it. <br />
<br />
<br />
</div>beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-22910134614119677352011-02-20T18:46:00.001-05:002011-02-20T18:48:10.376-05:00overrated<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
Below is a by-no-means comprehensive list of overrated things. Feel free to add your own. <br />
<br />
* snow. I mean, it's beautiful when it falls on cedars and everything but when you have had 3 days of upper 40s and your driveway totally melted, 3" of snow in 2 hours is just... discouraging.<br />
<br />
* change. Have I mentioned that I'm ready for some kind of stability here? Things have been unsettled for so long that the kids don't even want to whine about it anymore. They routinely stonewall our attempts to talk about moving. Smart kids.<br />
<br />
* facebook. I'm not sure what I <i>think</i> I'm going to see but these days it's mostly an update on everyone's sicknesses/their kids' sicknesses. I include myself in this trend. It would help if facebook had a separate posting area for sick updates, kind of like the separate waiting area at the pediatrician's office. Boring posts about coughing/vomiting go here. Funny stuff goes here. Uninformed political rants, here. Anything about American Idol can go here where it can be blocked with one simple click.<br />
<br />
*diet coke with lime. Does not compare to Diet Coke with an actual lime wedge. I'm snowbound, though, so I'm officially a beggar and not a chooser.<br />
<br />
*sunday dinner. My husband's grandmother introduced me to their tradition of popcorn, cheese chunks, fruit and juice for Sunday dinner. Although I do enjoy large chunks of meat/bowls of pasta from time to time, it's nice to be verrrrrrry laaaaaazy sometimes. When I feel ambitious I might make some spinach dip or something. <br />
<br />
* kale chips. I know the blog has been freakishly kale-centric of late (my sil keeps me well-stocked). Kale chips are the kind of thing that health articles tell you to eat instead of Doritos. ("Craving something crunchy? Try this easy recipe! ") Health writers of the world, kale chips are not Doritos, no matter how much ranch dressing mix you dump on top.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-91617603415663748552011-02-14T11:59:00.000-05:002011-02-14T11:59:46.266-05:00oddly peaceful<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Sometimes a horrible sinus infection can really put things in perspective. We're headed for another major change in employment and likely another move. Just as I was getting very agitated at the prospect, I was hit hard by 5 days of mucosal nastiness and the requisite attendant vomiting (was that too graphic? sorry!). I emerged with an improved attitude. I mean, worrying about unemployment and moving is <i>nothing</i> compared to worrying about unemployment and moving while hanging one's head over the toilet at 3:00 am. Right? <br />
<br />
The last time we did this (a mere 2 years ago) I was not taking it well. Couldn't sleep or eat much, crying at unexpected times, migraines, eye twitches; the works. This time I have promised myself to Keep It Together. I came across a quote that runs through my mind all day:<br />
<br />
The boat in the harbor is safe; but that is not the purpose of the boat. <br />
<br />
<br />
</div>beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-40169895356914649362011-02-02T18:55:00.000-05:002011-02-02T18:55:58.447-05:00kale love affair<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">So my sister introduced me to an actual winter vegetable--kale--that I have enjoyed in <a href="http://myshore.blogspot.com/2009/01/kale-idoscope-of-flavor.html">salad</a>, a breakfast skillet with potatoes and bacon, and, now... a smoothie! The 8 year old found the recipe in Real Simple (because he reads stuff like that). We tweaked it a bit and it turned out really well. Probably more vitamins than the gummy-vites I just bought (taste just like gummy bears... poison control, here we come).<br />
<br />
kale-apple smoothie<br />
<br />
3/4 cup chopped kale, ribs and thick stems removed<br />
1/2 banana<br />
1/2 granny smith apple, washed and cubed<br />
1/2 cup ice<br />
1/2 cup lemonade<br />
<br />
Blend. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
</div>beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-22605350677218835162011-01-29T18:58:00.000-05:002011-01-29T18:58:02.423-05:00the worst librarian in the world<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">So it has been months--months!--since I've been to the library to troll for new reading material. I owe them $35.00 and, partly out of laziness and partly out of a desire to spend that money on nice groceries (hummus, havarti, avocados) I have not stopped by to pay the fine. They sent out a sort of half-hearted "hey, you owe us money, chump" email a few months ago and then gave up. (I should mention here that our library is slated to close in July. Yes, I am a horrible person for witholding my $35.00. And, yes, I used to be a public librarian myself. Prepare a noose.)<br />
<br />
Anyway, moving beyond my irresponsibility and on to the delirium tremors. My frequent-flier mile funded magazine subscriptions are up for renewal. I'm not sure if I can renew them with miles (haven't bothered to find out--see above-referenced laziness). Although not always applicable to my current situation (Architectural Digest and Conde Nast Traveler, anyone?), I did enjoy the occasional pointless peek into the lives of the tanned and well-traveled. <br />
<br />
At any rate, I am fresh out of things to read. Just finished both John Grisham novels poached from my mom. (John Grisham! Anyone who knows me will see this as a clear cry for help). Have read and re-read all of the books on my shelf except for some boring stuff from a Western Civilization class and <i>The Year of Magical Thinking</i>, which I consider a beach book because reading it in any other context makes one want to curl up and sob. <br />
<br />
Now that I am employed, sort of, I think I'm ready to swallow my pride and pay up. So what should I read? I have a tiny list going:<br />
<br />
* <a href="http://www.powells.com/biblio/2-9780767919388-7">At Home, by Bill Bryson</a><br />
*<a href="http://www.powells.com/biblio/2-9780307272089-4"> The Mind's Eye, by Oliver Sacks</a><br />
* <a href="http://www.powells.com/biblio/1-9780670021871-0">Faithful Place, by Tana French</a><br />
<br />
Any other suggestions? Preferably something great but not terribly new so I don't have to wait for my turn in the dreaded hold-shelf line.<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-54727582435342335922011-01-20T20:32:00.000-05:002011-01-20T20:32:25.623-05:00things I am sick of, in no particular order<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">* cold extremities<br />
* generic Diet Coke<br />
* getting punched by two year olds, even if they are cute two year olds<br />
*worrying about money<br />
*corollary to the above: worrying about dh finding a new job<br />
* people who tailgate on icy roads<br />
*hearing about people with the name "Kardashian" (who are these people? why are they famous?)<br />
*the same authors being interviewed on npr, just on different shows<br />
*clouds<br />
*Kroger</div>beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-68033882975667744962010-12-09T13:41:00.000-05:002010-12-09T13:41:41.455-05:00the perils of naming your babySo everyone around me seems to be having babies, adopting babies, etc. (Not sure what that "etc." would represent there, but anyway.) It brings to mind kids I knew when I was young with odd names--and since I spent a good deal of time last night ruminating on this important topic I thought I'd share. <br />
<br />
First is <b>Dusty Day</b>, an aptly named boy with saggy jeans and, well, a dusty sort of look and always in need of a haircut (not unlike my youngest, come to think of it). <br />
<br />
Moving on to a girl called <b>Fashion</b>, last name long forgotten. I remember she was fabulously popular and looked sort of like Bo Derek with a frizzy perm. I wonder about glamorous names like Fashion--a bit risky, isn't it? What if adorable baby Fashion turns out to be a bit dumpy and fond of overalls? Or what if your sweet little *<b>Becky</b> turns out to be a teenage malcontent with a closet full of Nine Inch Nails t-shirts? <br />
<br />
Reminds me of two sisters I knew in 4-H called <b>Happy</b> and <b>Jolly</b>. I don't remember them as particularly cheery girls (the result of all that resentment toward their parents and hours of enforced cross stitch, no doubt.) <br />
<br />
dh had childhood friends named <b>Sergio</b> (as in Valente) and <b>Boozer</b> (as in his father's favorite hobby).<br />
<br />
But my favorite odd name of all time is a girl I knew in college called <b>Valency</b>. Her name may well have been a combination of grandparents' names or heaven knows what else but I always liked to think her mom was intensely devoted to chemistry and she had sisters named Argon and Molybdenum.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*might be autobiographical</span>beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-75164660276088122112010-12-01T21:28:00.000-05:002010-12-01T21:28:25.872-05:00it's the most wonderful time of the year... and my kids went to bed weepingIt was not an auspicious day for trimming the ol' Christmas tree. Had I consulted the I Ching or the Farmer's Almanac or even taken the time for a gut check I would have known to <em>stop before we all say things we will regret in the morning. </em>Super Q was on day 3 (possibly 4) of strep throat--not quite 24 hours on the antibiotics but feeling well enough to require my undivided attention all day. I obliged--we ran a few errands and worked on some Christmas projects (including a tree skirt that turned out <em>way</em> more Cat-in-the-Hat than planned). Everything was humming along until Flash came home and the bickering and tattling commenced. It waned long enough to put ornaments on the tree and then, yep, picked right back up in time for milk and cookies in the kitchen. <em>Somebody</em> left right in the middle of the treats and stomped upstairs like a 4 year old. That same somebody also said "freaking" upward of 3 times before the night was over. Boys were in bed at 8:30 amid a torrent of tears. Half of me feels completely justified (the bickering! it's killing me!). Half of me wants to go patch things up. Guess I'm headed upstairs for hugs and kisses.beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-52400944089497673162010-11-11T22:20:00.000-05:002010-11-11T22:20:26.766-05:00the healing power of hookyThe view from our front window (a picture window--all the 70s colonials seem to have them here) is a line of pine trees planted to obscure some kind of retaining pond. This morning the sun seemed to burst as it crested our little treeline. Lovely morning. Lovely day--the boys were cooperative and we made it to school just in time. Today also brought two pieces of unhappy news my way--one was (yet another) rejection letter from yet another employer. The other is a little too personal to post here, but it hit me like a medicine ball to the stomach. Cue the tears. <br />
<br />
I had big plans for moping, wallowing and watching <em>Dying Young</em> or some such thing. Luckily I sent out a signal flare before things got too bad. Luckily I got a response and then found myself at a movie theater with Junior Mints and everything in the middle of the day watching the simultaneous rise and fall of Mark Zuckerberg in <em>The Social Network</em>. <br />
<br />
Here is where I offer a wholehearted endorsement of hooky as a general palliative--even though it doesn't cure the disease, it addresses the symptoms in such a satisfactory way. My mom knew this when we were growing up, I think. There were days where I didn't have it in me to face one more day of school and its attendant horrors (the kid who threw rocks at me all the way home, the kid who told me I was voted "Ugliest Girl," Pre-Algebra, etc). Sometimes she just let me stay home. Mornings were PBS and toast, then soup and <em>I Love Lucy</em> to follow. We folded laundry, I helped with the baby. I read chapter books and practiced drawing unicorns. And the next day was better--I could pull on those Garanimals and Keds and walk with purpose toward Fuller Elementary, ready to take on whatever it was dishing out.beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-68161112578567339142010-11-04T09:55:00.001-04:002010-11-10T09:52:00.292-05:00my new recipe blog<div style="text-align: left;">I am slowly moving relevant recipes from this blog to my new recipe blog,<a href="http://tinycutlet.blogspot.com/"> the tiny cutlet.</a> I'll also be adding new recipes I've modified to reduce the amount of meat--for instance a recipe that calls for 4 chicken breasts would be reduced to 1 chicken breast using a different cooking method and presentation but preserving the flavors. I plan to add lots of vegetarian recipes as well, all tested on my unwitting family. I will actually be labeling/tagging the recipes over there to make them easier to find. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">If you have vegetarian recipes or some with only small amounts of meat, send them my way! I'd love to put them over on the tiny cutlet. </div>beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14461919.post-41892377357453632512010-10-21T13:54:00.000-04:002010-10-21T13:54:11.053-04:00hanging out with kidsI love that we're getting to the point that we can have intelligent conversations with our kids. Not that I didn't enjoy the extremely entertaining younger stages (in which Super Q would <em>not</em> be persuaded that we all have "fingers" and not "thingers" and Flash's inexplicable nickname for me was "Sugary").<br />
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Last night we enjoyed an unexpected evening at home with dh. I seized the opportunity and made some peppermint milkshakes and we all sat around in the living room. dh and I mostly asked the boys about school: fads (Silly Bandz), popular music (Usher, Katy Perry), books (Twilight [shudder]). They loved the attention and didn't want to stop ("Please can we keep on talking?"). Dare I hope for non-combative teenagers in a few years? beckmarshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08331456848435265001noreply@blogger.com2