I saw a skunk while I was running the other day. A skunk! I have never seen a skunk in real life before. Other than smashed and stinking up the roadside, that is. But this one was very much alive and strolling along on the other side of the road, probably 15 feet away from me. It was fairly early in the morning, up in North Albany on a road that does have plenty of houses but is still country-ish in feel. Definitely a place where wandering wildlife would not be out of place.

I had been worried about cougars, actually. There's been so much talk about their increasing numbers lately. I've never given cougars a second thought when running, before. I usually run around the streets of Albany, where the most exciting things I've ever seen are raccoons, nutria, and dogs (and it's only the small, yippy dogs that have ever chased me.) But I had just had a conversation about cougars with my sister the day before, and read about their prevalence in the newspaper, and I'm going for longer runs now, making big loops out into the countryside. I didn't think about it at all when I headed out the door (probably because when I first start running I'm still half asleep and I have hardly any coherent thoughts at all). But then it suddenly occurred to me, after I was already miles from home, that I was out in a woodsy, hilly, rural area. And that to a cougar, I might look like a tasty breakfast.

So there I was, running along in the dim morning light, gripping my little canister of Mace and my cell phone (so that at least the 911 dispatchers would have the pleasure of listening in while a cougar mauled me), when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I'm sure my head whipped around, and I know my pace speeded up. When I saw the little shape over by the opposite ditch, at first I thought it was a squirrel. It had a big bushy tail like a squirrel. But the more I looked, the more I realized it was too big for a squirrel. And not moving like a squirrel. And it was black.




Of course, I was glad that it was not a cougar. But skunk didn't make me feel a whole lot better. It was a very small skunk, but I'm sure it was still capable of defending itself. Have you ever smelled a skunk? What would I do if it decided I was a threat and it sprayed me? I was quite a ways from my house--it would take me forever to stagger home, all coughing and choking and stinking. And I wasn't sure any of the homeowners on this road would appreciate being woken up at dawn by a strange woman reeking of skunk smell pounding on their door and pleading for help. I didn't like the thought of spending the next few days bathing myself in tomato juice, either.

I stayed over on my side of the road, and kept moving along at a steady pace, and tried my best to look non-threatening. I was ready to bolt if it made any sudden moves, though. Could I outrun a skunk? Do skunks run fast? I was ready to try.

Suddenly the skunk raised its little head in my direction. I held my breath. And then I heard the skitter of gravel beneath its paws as it ran...

...directly away from me. It disappeared into the ditch and I never saw it again.

First: a disclaimer. If you don't like stories about disgusting things like poop--if that doesn't tickle your funny bone--just skip this post. For that matter, why are you reading my blog if you don't like stories about disgusting things? Poop and pee and vomit make up a significant chunk of my posts. Go ahead and move along and find something higher-class to read.

Second: another disclaimer. Remember how I posted awhile ago that Evie was almost potty-trained? That I really only needed to put her in pull-ups when I left her with a babysitter or was going on an especially long errand?

Yeah, that's totally not true.

Not that I intentionally lied. I thought she was getting it. I thought we were almost there. But then we went camping and we all got sick and we went camping again and went on a long road trip and we were staying at someone else's house and then we had another road trip back...and we pretty much just ditched any pretense of trying to do all those things while keeping up with the potty situation. We're back in pull-ups 100 percent of the time.

And the thing is, she never did completely get it. You know. It. The mysterious ideal that parents must somehow instill in their children. The unbreakable rule: when I feel this feeling inside my body--I must Go. To. The. Toilet. Now. If I put her on the potty at the right time of day, she would totally poop in the potty. No problem. But if, at some other time of day when I wasn't paying attention to her, she also felt the poop urge...well, she'd go ahead and go. In her underwear.

You just can't be 50%, or even 75%, when it comes to pooping in the toilet. There's no such thing as a B or a C passing grade in potty training. It has to be 100%, or it's no good. So. We're back in pull-ups. I plan to address that issue again once my bigger girls are in school and I have some time to focus in on just Evie.

So. Anyway. Disclaimer over. Here's the funny story:

Last night, as Eric was getting Evie ready for her bath, he picked her up and smelled a suspicious odor.

"Evie, did you poop in your pants?" he asked her.

"No," she assured him.

He checked for himself.

"Yes, you did," he said. "There's a big turd in there."

Evie looked right at him, and said very earnestly, "No. It's a cow."

Eric, doing his best to keep a straight face: "A cow? That's a cow in your diaper? How do you know it's a cow?"

Evie, still entirely serious: "It said moo."

It was our anniversary yesterday. Nine whole years with this guy. That's not counting our years of dating and engagement. I've now spent more than a third of my life linked to this one particular human being. It's weird and it's wonderful, and in honor of the occasion we went out on one of the nicest dates we've had in a long time. And it was almost entirely free. It doesn't get any better than that.

First we foisted the kids off on my mom and dad. That's Step One: obtain free babysitting from grandparents, friends, or some other sucker who's willing to care for three kids all day and night in return for the sheer joy of their company. Thanks, Mom and Dad!

Then, we headed for the river, armed with a fishing pole, a camera, a cooler full of beer and a backpack full of snacks.



We picked up our way up the rocky riverbank until we got far enough away that the only previous fishermen, so far as we could tell, were raccoons. Our only companions were the ospreys circling and screeching over the water.

Do you see it? That little gap at the bottom center? The little hole that shows that my baby is now officially losing her baby teeth? Those teeth that she fussed and fretted and drooled over for months as an infant, that she worked so hard to get...and now they're falling out.

It's been hanging on by a thread for weeks. I'd offered to pull it out for her, even gave it a gentle tug or two during tooth-brushing time at night. But she (like her mother before her) wouldn't go for it. Will it hurt? Will there be blood? she wanted to know. And so we left it alone to take its own sweet time, and finally, this morning, the time came and it fell out all on its own.

Now: the big question.

How much is the Tooth Fairy paying for teeth these days?

I think I remember getting a quarter, maybe fifty cents, for my teeth 25 years ago. Have prices gone up since then, or has the value of these itty-bitty little bits of discarded bone stayed the same? Please share. After all, the Tooth Fairy is scheduled to arrive tonight. I need to make sure I have enough cash to pay for this visit.

1. It's that time of year again: zucchini for breakfast, lunch and dinner! Yep, that's how well my garden is (finally) producing. At least in the squash category, we're doing well. I really do have days where I eat zucchini and/or yellow squash at three meals a day. Recipes next week.

2. A few weeks ago I hit an awesome garage sale from a lady who must have been just about the same size as I am and also has good taste in clothes. I got a hat, some pants, a shirt, and this sweet leather jacket!

Please excuse the very crappy quality of this photo. I took it on the webcam because I'm too lazy to find my camera, set up the timer, take a self-portrait, then download it.

Also, she happened to have a nightstand that is almost identical to the vintage dresser my mother-in-law gave me. The garage sale nightstand has already been nicely refinished, whereas the hand-me-down dresser is still in need of some TLC. If we ever finish our bedroom project, I'll show you pictures of them, and you too will appreciate how cute and funky they are. But for now, just trust me that this was the best garage sale I've been to all year. I feel like garage sales are always like that for me. Either it's someone who has a ton of cool stuff that you love, or it's all just 100 percent junk that you are not interested in. There is no middle ground. Does anyone else have that experience?

3. When we visited Meg's family in Montana, the girls were exposed to a much more Western style of decor than they are used to. Meg's family are all avid hunters, and their house is (tastefully) decorated with buffalo hides, stuffed pheasants, and many very impressive heads of deer, caribou, mountain goats, and so on.

When we put the girls to bed the first night, we put them in the bedroom, tucked them in, and then thoughtfully (or so I assumed) left the door to the adjacent living room ajar, with a light in the living room on, so some light would shine in on them and they wouldn't be in complete darkness. I also warned them sternly to stay in bed and go to sleep--not to get up and wander around the house. I then went upstairs to visit with the other adults.

I came down to check on them awhile later and found Evie asleep, Beth awake but nervous, and Lucy in tears, fully terrified. Turns out that light I'd left on in the living room? It was a light that had been specifically designed to shine on the two stuffed deer heads mounted on the wall. And one of the deer had its head slightly turned, so that it was looking directly in at the bed where the girls were sleeping. Creepy? Just a little. "I feel like they're watching me," Beth said. Lucy was also convinced that there was a bear in the closet. Judging by the rest of the house, I can see where she might have come up with that idea (although we opened it up to show her that it was, in fact, false. No bear). But the girls were so good, (or maybe also so terrified) that they barely made a peep and they didn't come up to find me and tell me they were scared.

Yeah, I win Mother of the Year award for that one.

4. Other Montana news: we saw deer, magpies, snakes, ospreys, eagles, and a giant porcupine in their yard. Eric caught some amazing trout and now wants to become a fly fisherman. It was awesome.

5. Does anyone know why some people are apparently super-attractive to mosquitos, while others are only mildly so and others are pretty much immune? I am in the first category, and one of these days I think the mosquitos are actually going to do me in. We went on a hike in Montana during which Meg, the girls and I all sprayed ourselves with the same bug spray, and Eric used none at all. During the last hundred yards of it we went through a little grassy, flat meadow which was apparently bug heaven. The girls and Meg ended up with a few mosquito bites each. Eric came through with one. I came out covered with literally dozens of giant welts. What's the deal? What's so wrong (or right) with my blood that makes me irresistible?

6. Interesting post from Rebekah: how much do you spend on back to school shopping? Go check out her post and the comment thread below. I'm interested to know how I measure up to others.

7. My favorite video of the week (which a couple of my friends have posted on Facebook): Jane Austen's Fight Club! You'll laugh. You'll cry. You'll have the urge to put on a dress and punch your friends in the face.



More quick takes here.

Montana is beautiful. That's all there is to say. I know I always say that Oregon is beautiful and perfect and I love living here. And that's all true.

I just got back from a road trip with three small children. And yes, I'm still (reasonably) sane.

We drove from Albany, Oregon, to Stevensville, Montana. And then back again, five days later. That's 644 miles one way. Twelve hours in the car, with three children ages 6, 4, and 2.

And you know what? It went great.

There was a little bit of whining. A little bit of complaining. One urgent request for a potty break that turned out to be completely fictitious. But overall? Awesome. There was no puking, no total meltdowns. Not once did we have to resort to "I'm going to pull this car OVER if you don't stop..." (Although I did once threaten to throw a My Little Pony out the window).

Here are the things that I think contributed to our success:

1. Sleep. We got up before the sun and were on the road by 3:30 a.m. We kept the kids in their pajamas, covered them in blankies, and they slept through the first several hours on the road. They would awaken later in the morning, we'd stop for breakfast, they'd be awake in the car through the morning, we'd stop for lunch, and then post-lunch they'd nod off again. They were asleep through at least half of the hours we were in the car, and I think that made a huge difference. Sleeping children are happy children.

2. Books on tape. We don't have an in-car DVD player, nor do we have a good location in our vehicle to install one even if we wanted to. But we do have a perfectly fine sound system, and a local library that has dozens of free audiobooks to check out. Having a good story to listen to in the car makes the miles pass so much more smoothly, for the adults as well as the kiddos. We listen to audiobooks constantly, not only on long trips but just around town all the time. On this trip we listened to "Peter and the Shadow Thieves" by Dave Barry and Ridley Pierson; "The Long Winter" by Laura Ingalls Wilder; and I read aloud a few chapters of "Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle" by Betty MacDonald.

3. McDonald's. I hate to admit it, but it's true. Our kids just love McDonald's. Our first food stop of the trip was at a little local diner in some little Eastern Oregon town. They served these truly yummy home-made versions of Egg McMuffins--fried eggs on toasted English Muffins with cheese and bacon. They were so good. Our kids would not touch them. All Lucy ate that entire breakfast was some orange juice. Our next stops were at McDonald's (oh, and one at IHOP) and the kids were filled with joy. They got familiar food that they liked, plus they got a little plastic toy to take with them in the car. They sat in their seats and played with Happy Meal Toys for hours. I am not kidding. I am normally all about supporting local businesses and exploring undiscovered local treasures...but on a long car trip, it really was easiest to keep my kids happy by stopping at a place they already knew they loved.

4. Limited fluids. Before you call Child Services on me, don't take this to mean that I am purposefully dehydrating my children. Not at all. They got to have juice, milk, or whatever else they wanted to have at meal stops. And I also let them have a bottle of water in the car. But we did not bring juice boxes for the car, and we did not give them a whole lot extra to drink. Extra drinking=more potty stops and more likelihood of accidents. No thank you.

5. Patience. This is for everyone. For them, patience with the endless miles rolling by. For us, patience with the shrill voices from the back seat. I let them get away with a lot more loud, annoying giggling and squealing back there than I normally do. I mean, they're sitting strapped into a car seat for an entire day. They need to be able to get their giggles out.

I'm proud of my girls. And I'm hoping our road trip success was not just a once-in-a-lifetime fluke. Now that we've found out our girls CAN tolerate extended car rides, Eric and I are excitedly planning all kinds of places we can take our crew. Watch out, world! The Rouses are on their way.

Beth is 6.