We woke this morning to the sound of a sheep, desperately baa-ing for attention. Someone had left it tied to a tree on the side of the road just across from Meg's place. Later, on the way to the beach, we saw a Grenadian man walking up the hill, sheep trotting cheerfully behind him, the long rope around its neck trailing on the ground. Eventually it will be someone's dinner, I suppose.

It was not great weather at the beach today; the breakers on the beach were so powerful that if I was standing in the path of one I found myself body-surfing on up to the shore, whether that had been my intention or not. It was exhilerating, but exhausting after awhile. It was cloudy, which made us Oregonians feel right at home.

There's an IGA supermarket just down the hill from Meg's house in the Spiceland Mall. It sells a strange variety of items--everything from American sodas to British candy bars to chicken feet, which are conveniently packaged and labeled in the butcher section, so you can pick some up and take them home to make...what does one make with chicken feet, I wonder. Soup? Anyway, we avoided the chicken feet but picked up some juice from Barbados that was quite tasty. I picked passionfruit. Passionfruit is my new favorite flavor. I had a passionfruit smoothie yesterday that was excellent. Guavas are tasty too; plantains are okay; I have yet to try paw-paws, but they grow here as well.

The store also sold cans of "non-alcholic malt beverage" in a container that was clearly aimed at kids. It had Mickey Mouse on it. Why would kids be drinking a malt beverage at all, even a non-alcholic one? Another island mystery.

Unfortunately, there will be no pictures for awhile, because I am dumb and I forgot to pack the USB cable that connects the camera to the computer.

Time to shower the sand and salt out of my hair and get ready for going out to dinner.

After a boring night in a Portland hotel room, a very long plane ride, an enjoyable day in sunny Puerto Rico, and then a shorter plane ride, Eric and I have made it to Grenada, the Isle of Spice. Although the Grenadian man sitting next to me on the plane laughed when the pilot called it that, so maybe the locals don't really call it the Isle of Spice.

We just enjoyed a nice breakfast on Meg's patio, where we can see just a little slice of the blue, blue ocean awaiting us. (Is it still breakfast when you eat it at 11 a.m.? Because we slept in so late, that's what time it was when we finally got out of bed and ate something. I'll just let all you other parents writhe in envy while you think about the glory of sleeping in that late). It's an interesting breakfast, when the guava you're eating probably came straight off one of the many tropical trees outside, and the milk claims to have been produced in "the beautiful Yorkshire dales."

Outside Meg's kitchen window, beautiful flowering plants bloom in planters made of old tires. Birds chirp and twitter away, and last night there was a little gecko running around in here. They are speedy little buggers.

We're getting ready to head to the beach now. Warm ocean waters, here we come.

Sandy beaches.

Hot weather.

Fresh fruit.

Tropical drinks.

The absolute leisure to do whatever we feel like, at any time of the day or night.

That's what Eric and I are looking forward to...in three more days!

You see, my super-cool college roommate happens to be going to grad school in Grenada. In case you don't know where that is, it's way down in the south of the Caribbean, almost to South America. And, being super-cool, she offered up a free place to stay to any of her friends who wanted to make the trip. That, combined with some bargain airfares and five years' worth of rewards points on our credit card that were ready to be cashed in, made taking a Caribbean vacation an offer we couldn't refuse.

And so...we'll be flying out of Portland...stopping for a day in Puerto Rico...then reuniting with Meg for lots of island fun. Staying with my roomie in a small apartment--it will be just like the good old days at Linfield! Oh, except that I have a husband now. That will make it a little different, I guess :)

And now you're asking, "Wait a minute? Don't you have three kids? How can you just be flying off to another time zone?"

The answer is that yes, we do have three kids, but we also have amazing parents, and the kids will be staying with them for the trip. Mostly with my parents, but also a few days with Eric's parents. Luckily, my parents and Eric's parents live on the same road, so that makes it easy. (Yes, I married the boy next door. It's a little weird, I know.)

Taking this trip seemed like a GREAT idea back when we planned it--after all, we haven't had a real vacation since before kids, and I haven't even set foot on a plane since our honeymoon in 2001. And it still does seem like a good idea. But I'm starting to get worried about leaving the kids for so long. What if Evie won't sleep? What if Lucy gets into one of her moods and just scowls at everyone for a week? What if Beth won't obey her grandparents? Won't they NEED their mommy? What was I thinking?

But I am banishing those thoughts. Banishing them! The truth is, my parents and Eric's parents are both wonderful. The girls adore their grandparents, both sets, and I'm not sure they're even really going to miss us, they'll have such a good time.

And it will be good times for us too. Meg asked us, when she was home over Christmas, what we wanted to do while we were in Grenada. And Eric and I both kind of looked at each other and shrugged. Do? Do we need anything more than just the ability to sleep in as late as we stinkin' want, and not change any diapers, and not hear any whining, and lie on the beach reading good books for hours? But I think we are going to get in some snorkeling and hikes in the jungle and other fun activities.

Meg has an internet connection, since she is a college student after all, so if the mood strikes me I may blog from Grenada, posting pictures of sunshine and beaches that will make you all jealous to your core. Not that I'd revel in my good fortune or anything.

In the mean time, I'm trying to finish up all my work, and do laundry, and pack, and buy some warm-weather clothes, and clean the house for our house-sitter, and think of every possible thing that might need to be accomplished in the next three days. And then accomplish it.

Have a good spring break, people. I suppose I'll be back eventually, with a new stamp in my passport, a lovely tan on my skin, and lots of island stories to share.

All right people, let's see how well you know your classic movies! Or at least, 25 of what I consider to be stellar movies, worthy of the label "classic," whether or not they ever make any critic's best-of list.

*This meme comes to you courtesy of Talk of Summertime.*

Here are the rules:

A. Pick 25 of your favorite movies.

B. Go to IMDB and find a quote from each movie.

C. Post them for everyone to guess.

D. Strike it out when someone guesses correctly, listing the correct answer and who guessed it.

E. No Googling/using IMDb search functions. That's cheating, and it ruins the fun.



1. "I'm not left-handed either." "The Princess Bride," guessed by Julie and Mandi.

2. "You see how picky I am about my shoes, and they only go on my feet." "Clueless," guessed by Cassie.

3. "She's better than I thought. At this rate he'll be kissing her by sunset for sure." "The Little Mermaid," guessed by Becca and Mandi

4. "You want a toe? I can get you a toe, believe me." "The Big Lebowski," guessed by Emily B.

5. "Come no further, for death awaits you all...with big nasty pointy teeth."

6."Somewhere out there is a lady who, I think, will never be a nun." "The Sound of Music," guessed by Mandi and Devon.

7. "We have so much in common, we both love soup and snow peas, we love the outdoors, and talking and not talking. We could not talk or talk forever and still find things to not talk about."

8. "The whole theory of modern education is radically unsound. Fortunately in England, at any rate, education produces no effect whatsoever."

9. "I had not known you a month before I felt you were the last man in the world whom I could ever marry! " "Pride and Prejudice" (the BBC version), guessed by Emily B.

10. "I'm not sure I agree with you a hundred percent on your police work, there, Lou." "Fargo," guessed by Jennifer.

11. "Maybe I could be a truck driver. You got the number of that truck-driving school? We might need that."

12. "This landing is gonna get pretty interesting."
"Define 'interesting.'"
"Oh God, oh God, we're all going to die?" "Serenity," guessed by Meg.

13. "Do you believe in love at first sight? Nah, I betcha don't, you're probably too sensible for that. Or have you ever, like, seen somebody? And you knew that, if only that person really knew you, they would, well, they would of course dump the perfect model that they were with, and realize that you were the one that they wanted to, just, grow old with." "While You Were Sleeping," guessed by Devon and Mandi and Anonymous.

14. "So, I'm supposed to buy her some noodles and a book and sit around listening to chicks who can't play their instruments, right?" "10 Things I Hate About You," guessed by Meg (I knew I could count on you for that one, Meg).

15. "Sweet? Where do you get off? Where do you get sweet? I am dark and mysterious, and pissed off! And I could be very dangerous to all of you! You should know that about me... I am the enemy!" "Almost Famous," guessed by Emily B.

16. "All stories have an ending, you know."

17. "Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies." "Stranger Than Fiction," guessed by Alison. (Way to go, I thought that was a hard one! And I really liked this movie, by the way, for anyone who hasn't seen it.)

18. "You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie." "Sleepless in Seattle," guessed by Cassie.

19. "I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope." "The Shawshank Redemption," guessed by Emily B.

20. "It's against my programming to impersonate a deity." "The Return of the Jedi," guessed by Jessica. (And there is nothing embarrassing about liking Star Wars!)

21. "It's a little childish and stupid, but then, so is high school." "Ferris Bueller's Day Off," guessed by Emily B.

22. "You've got 'Replica' written down the side of your guns, and I've got 'Desert Eagle .50' written down the side of mine." "Snatch," guessed by Eric. (He actually knew 22 out of these 25 but refrained from spoiling the fun...guess we do watch a lot of movies together.)

23. "Yeah. Well, that sounds like a pretty good deal. But I think I may have a better one. How about, I give you the finger...and you give me my phone call. " "The Matrix," guessed by Devon.

24. "I'm picking up your sarcasm."
"Well, I should hope so, because I'm laying it on pretty thick." "Tommyboy," guessed by Cassie.

25. "They wanted me to build them a bomb, so I took their plutonium and in turn, gave them a shiny bomb-casing full of used pinball machine parts!" "Back to the Future," guessed by Meg.

Well, I disappointed myself.

After debating about whether or not to take the kids all the way up to Portland while Eric ran the Shamrock, after posting about it on my blog and e-mailing all my Portland friends asking for suggestions on kid activities, after creating a whole itinerary, complete with times and locations of Portland Streetcar stops pertinent to said itinerary (which I actually wrote down and carried with me in the diaper bag)...I did none of it.





My itinerary called for dropping Daddy off early at Waterfront Park to pick up his registration packet and get all situated for the race, walking .3 miles to Voodoo Doughnuts, getting doughnuts and maybe something hot to drink, walking back to the park to see him take off, then taking public transport to Sip and Kranz, where I would sip more hot beverage while the girls played with the upper-class city children I imagined would be at a coffee lounge with such a chic-looking website. Then, more public transport back to Waterfront Park, just in time to watch Daddy triumphantly cross the finish line. A good day. All in my head.

What actually happened was that it was even colder, rainier, and windier than I could have imagined. And it took longer to walk places with children than I imagined. And we were all so cold and wet that we just staggered into the first coffee house we found open (Stumptown Coffee Roasters; which really is only a tad bit closer than Voodoo Doughnuts. But it was warm and it was open and we saw it first and so that was where we went). And the whole place was crowded with runners for the various runs that morning, so there was a really long line. And Beth spilled her cocoa and I had to wipe it up. And while we were standing in line/wiping up cocoa/etc., we missed our window for walking back to the park to see the beginning of the race.

OK. No seeing him take off. Oh well. But then by the time we finished our cocoa and cookies, and took a potty break, we had also missed the bus I had written down on my itinerary that I was planning to take to Sip and Kranz. And I wasn't sure when the next one would be or where to go to catch it. So I decided to go with the familiar: Powell's. It was about a half-mile walk up Burnside in the driving rain and wind, and the girls were cold, wet, and tired. They made it with only minimal complaints, though, and I was proud of them.

The big, warm bookstore and some reading in the kids' section cheered them up. We were there so early (just minutes after it opened) that it wasn't crowded at all. Beth was particularly enchanted that the stairs leading to the kids' room were pink...and that the stairs leading up to the next floor, where the bathroom is located, were purple.






You see, I knew another bathroom break would be in order. Still trying to be a wise, planning-ahead type of mama, I took the kids up the stairs, made Beth pee, changed Evie, checked Lucy, and led them back downstairs with just enough time to read one more story before we needed to leave to catch the bus back to Waterfront Park to be there at about the time I thought Eric would cross the finish line. We read our one more story. I started to get all their coats and hats and mittens back on. When...I smelled it. Evie had pooped again. Just minutes after I had changed her. When I commented on this, Lucy cheerfully informed me that she was stinky too. That is when I (internally) threw up my hands and howled in despair.

Hats and mittens off, back up the stairs, two diaper changes, back down stairs, hats and mittens on...and we had totally missed the bus we needed to take. I asked the employee what would be the best way to get back down to the park and she said, "Well, it would probably be fastest just to walk." This was obviously true, and if I had been alone, I totally would have. But I knew there was no way my kids were up to walking a mile in the rain again. They may be native-born Oregonians, but even they have their limits. And they had reached them. And I can only carry two of them at a time.

So we waited till the next bus came and rode it back downtown (I think the bus ride was Beth's favorite part of the whole trip). And got there about 20 minutes after Eric had already crossed the finish line. Sad.

I was really quite disappointed not to have been there to cheer him on. Our morning adventure in the city did not match with the fantasy in my head at all. But that seems to be the story of motherhood, doesn't it? You'd think by now I'd know that no matter how detailed my plans are or how confident I feel about executing them, children have ways of throwing our best-laid plans for a loop. That parenting requires flexibility and patience, and that you should always, always, always give yourself extra time to allow for poopy diapers.

Despite my disappointment, it was a fun trip. I like Stumptown Coffee and Powell's, and the girls did too. Riding the bus was good. Eric survived his 15k despite driving rain and 40-degree weather. And I survived a trip to the city with three small children despite long lines, missed buses and way too many dirty diapers.

When I was in high school, I swore I just couldn't run. A couple blocks and I was completely out of breath. I had all sorts of excuses--I just didn't have a runner's body, I said. After all, I certainly didn't look anything like those skinny gals on the track and cross-country teams. Running was not for me.

My husband, up until a year ago, swore he just couldn't run. It hurt his knees. He had a bad ankle. Running was not for him.

The thing is, though, running is about the cheapest and easiest exercise you can get. You need a good pair of shoes (which can be expensive), but then all you do is get out and go. And go. And go.

Now, my husband spent his Sunday morning slogging through 9.3 miles of wretched Portland weather in the Shamrock 15K run. Pretty great for a guy who just can't run, huh?

After we all came home from Portland, I threw on my running clothes and ran the same distance as part of my training program for the Eugene half-marathon on May 3. It wasn't raining, but I was running straight into 9-mile-per-hour winds for miles 4 and 5 of the run. I'm not sure the type of ambulatory motion I was employing at that point really qualifies as running. "Trudging along while swinging my arms and gasping for breath" is probably more like it.

But. I made it. I didn't stop, even when it was hard, and once I turned and the wind was at my back, things were a lot better. Nine miles. It's far. Pretty good for a girl who just can't run.

I'm still a little astounded that Eric and I have gotten into this new hobby of ours. Us, the non-runners, comparing mile times and having discussions about Runner's Lube? (which is not nearly as interesting as it sounds).

However this happened, I'm glad we've gotten into running. We're both healthier than we were a year ago, that's for sure. We'll probably never be the fastest runners in the race--but at least we're in the race, now. And I'm proud of us.

I noticed this little lid sitting on the counter forlornly just now--all alone, no jar to cap anywhere in sight--and it reminded me that I am completely thyme-less... and it's all my own fault.

Yesterday, within the span of about 45 minutes, I managed to break my favorite serving platter, knock over a bottle of olive oil (plastic, so no breakage but just spilled oil) and shatter a jar of thyme. Then, while holding my baby on my hip, I walked too close to the side of the door and banged her head right into the door frame. Really hard.

At that point, I was just about ready to commit myself to a padded room for the rest of the day. Or at least until I figure out a way to stop being SUCH a huge klutz.

I have always been clumsy. I constantly have bruises that I don't even remember getting because I just wander through life banging into things. You know that whole spatial awareness thing? That mental skill that gives us an awareness of where we are in the world and where other objects are in relation to us? I think I am a Level Zero on the Spatial Awareness-O-Meter.

Yesterday I was really kind of in a funk about it, though. I liked that pretty green platter, darn it! And I felt wretched about banging Evie's head on the wall. (We both cried for awhile).

My husband says I just need to pay more attention to what I'm doing. To which I want to know: how? In all seriousness, I'm just not sure what kind of mental trick I need to do to somehow pay more attention to my surroundings. It's not like I walk around with a blindfold on. It's not like I didn't see that the door frame was there. My brain just didn't register that I was walking too closely and was about to bonk Evie's head against it.

Eric claims he used to be a huge klutz too, until at the age of 18 he got a job as an ironworker, and suddenly one little trip or mis-step meant plummeting hundreds of feet to an untimely death. He's been a lot more attentive to his surroundings ever since, he says.

I believe him. I imagine that in a life or death situation, I could unlearn my innate clumsiness too. But short of getting a job where I walk around on narrow metal beams hundreds of feet up in the air (my job is challenging enough, thank you very much!) I don't know how to mentally coach my way out of my klutziness.

Until I get that figured out, do not come to my house and ask for foods seasoned with thyme. I have none. Nor will I be able to serve you appetizers on a funky square platter. And don't ask me to carry you around the house unless you want me to bang your head against the wall. On the other hand, if pratfalls make you laugh and you want to observe someone literally tripping over her own feet, come on over to my place. It won't be long before I do something spectacularly ridiculous. I guarantee it.

Here is our chocolatey new office. I love the way it turned out. We still have to put another coat on the ceiling, but the walls are done. (Thanks for the suggestions about painting the ceiling, by the way. I think that makes the whole effect very striking). The color we bought was called Bulldog, but when we opened up the cans of paint, it looked like nothing so much as giant vats of rich chocolate milk. We seriously warned the girls against drinking it, it was that delicious looking. It dried somewhat darker, and for awhile I was a little afraid it would look like a cave, but I don't think it looks like a cave. We definitely will need to put a few lamps in here in addition to the overhead light. I think the color looks best in glow of nice, warm lamplight. We'll get some colorful pictures on the walls, move the furniture back in there, and we'll have a cozy, classy-looking office/music room.



Would you like to hear a story about how absentminded I am? Here goes: The day before we planned to begin this project, I went to Fred Meyer to buy the paint. I had groceries to get as well, and my home budgeting software does not allow me to split transactions. I knew that if I wanted my spending on groceries to go in my "grocery" category and the paint to go in my "home improvement" category, I needed to buy them separately. So I got groceries first, then went back to the paint counter.

And it took forever for the lady to get the paint all mixed and shaken up and labeled, so by the time she handed me my three gallons of "Bulldog"-colored paint, the kids were cranky and I was ready to get out of there.

So that's what I did. I walked right out the door of the store.

Without paying for the paint.

When I got home and realized that I had stolen goods in the back of my car, I admit for a second I thought, "I could get away with this! I wouldn't have to pay for that paint and no one would ever know!"

But I knew that I would be wracked with guilt every time I went into my nice brown office, so instead the next day I went back to the store. I was embarrassed to explain to the employees about how dumb I was the day before (though I am not, apparently, embarrassed to share it with the world on the Internet) so I purposefully parked near the back door where employees are sparse. No one noticed me loading items from my car into the cart (instead of the other way around). No one looked up as I walked through the doors with the paint already in the cart. I walked right on through the store to the self-checkout, paid for my stolen paint, and smiled at the employee as she handed me my receipt. Mission accomplished.

And now, finally, the mission of painting this room is (almost) accomplished. Back when we first bought our house, we sat down and made a list of all the things we wanted to do to it. My husband is an engineer, which means he likes his work to be very organized, so we prioritized all our planned projects, assigning them to Priority Level 1, 2, or 3. I assumed that we'd have all the "Priority Level 1" projects banged out within a few months. Painting this room? It was a Priority Level 1.

Two years later ain't so bad, right?

Here's a question for you: how do you entertain three small children in downtown Portland on what's likely to be a cold and rainy Sunday morning?

You see, my husband is running in the Shamrock Run next Sunday, and we want to be there to cheer him on. His event starts at the bright-and-early time of 8:40 a.m. We'll drop him off, and then we'll have an hour or two to kill until we have to be back down at Waterfront Park for the finish.

If it were summer, I'd just let them run around in the park all morning. But the forecast calls for it to be 52 degrees max, with showers likely. We need someplace warm to hang out. Preferably someplace within walking distance of Waterfront Park. Someplace that will not be aghast at the sight of three energetic kids ages 4 and under walking through the doors of their classy city establishment.

There is always Powell's, glorious Powell's, of course. But I've been to their kids' section on a weekend morning just once, and it was so stinkin' crowded I could barely handle the one kid I had at the time. The thought of trying to keep track of all three children by myself in there is somewhat daunting. We may end up there anyway, unless I can think of a better plan.

But I thought I'd throw this out there, in case someone wandering the wilds of the Internet comes across this post and has the answer for me: is there some magical, warm, cheap, kid-friendly place in downtown Portland where I can take my girls early on a Sunday morning?

Beth watched as I Windexed the big window in our living room, something I haven't done in months. But we're having company for dinner tonight, and I wanted the house to actually be clean.

"It's hard to do all these chores when guests are coming over," Beth said.

"Yeah, but really I need to do a better job about keeping the house clean even when guests are not coming over," I said. "That way our family could have a clean house all the time, not just when people come over. I need to do a better job about that."

"Yep. Like every other mom," Beth said.

So...apparently every other mom of Beth's acquaintance keeps her house cleaner than I do. Ouch.

It's March now, and spring is springing here in the Willamette Valley. Oh, it's still wet and cloudy, but there are short periods of actual sunshine from time to time. Like all Oregonians, we know not to waste a sunny hour in March, so we headed outside after lunch today.




Beth found an actual flower coming up--something we had not planted-- in our weed-filled flower bed.





The buds on this pretty bush are budding (I have no idea what kind of bush it is, but it's pretty).



There are daisies in the grass.



Beth found a ladybug crawling around (he's a little out of focus, but he's there on the end of her finger).

And, most important of all, my newly mobile baby got what amounts to her first taste of the outside world. Last summer she was so little she just had to be carried about all the time. No getting down in the grass for her.

This winter, the few times we took her outside, it was cold and she didn't like it.

But now...spring! Sunshine! Old dirty soccer balls! She had a blast.






Is there any way eyes that blue can't brighten up your Monday?