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Showing posts from June, 2009

One Bottle of VERY Expensive Wine.

It's mosquito season again and with all the rain we seem to have stolen from Seattle, the buggers are out en masse. And guess what? They LOVE pregnant Cannwin. I'm like some vintage wine left in the cellar for 100 years and only recently retrieved. I am consumed with slow and deliberate appreciation by small parties of 6-10 blood suckers ata time. I've always known my blood was particularly attractive to these minute vampires (especially where it pools in my ankles) but when I'm prego I must emit some sort of beacon... Like a flashlight on a moonless evening. I've got about 10 bites from one afternoon of weeding. There's the one bequeathed to me by a mosquito so large I felt actual pain when it bit me, and several smaller groupings on my calves where adolescent groups must have enjoyed a party or two. Whenever we go camping my mother in law insists we all take a daily dose of 'B' vitamin to keep the mosquitoes at bay, and it actually works... except I c

Central Asia Institute

In one of her many moments of profundity my mother once told me that the greatest thing that can be obtained in lifetime is knowledge. Since the only possessions one can take with them beyond this world are those things stored within the mind, it was worth ones greatest effort to learn all that one could. Equally strong for me was the impression I received while growing that an educated woman, no matter her role, served as a vital asset to her community and her children. These two ideas have found a strange place in my life. My formal education ends with a few college level classes, yet I have enjoyed exploring and learning through the gift of literacy. This immense tool has allowed me the opportunity to educate myself about topics as diverse as nutrition to politics. I have also developed a fondness for the speeches and writings of many great men and women throughout history. My newest point of interest, however, is the biography or memoir. If they are well written (and mildly humorou

Overheard's

Do you really want to brag about that? Man in restaurant: 'I didn't know how to count to ten until I was in first grade.' Old, toothless neighbor: 'I've been to jail 119 times!' Love you too. Christmas Eve with family: 'Oh, thankyou dear... I wasn't supposed to get you anything was I?' Cold feet to close friend: 'Were you nervous when you got married?' 'Well sure, everyone is a little.' 'So nervous that every time you thought about it you felt you might throw up?' Two birds with one stone- also known as insult everyone at once. Sisters discussing Medicaid: 'People on govt help shouldn't be allowed to have babies.' *awkward silence* 'You do realize I've had three children while on govt insurance, right?' 'Well that's different.' Man (who shall remain unidentified): 'It's weird how one sister got all the lo

Bugs In The Shower

One of the worst places to spot a moving critter is when you are in the shower. I mean, what are you supposed to do? There's no shoes lying around to smash it with, no toilet paper for grabbing, it's just you and the bug... alone in the water. Today I was bathing away when I looked up to see the biggest freakin' mosquito I've ever come across flying towards me. Now it wasn't a skeeter eater or anything, this was a real mosquito. “Aaah!” I screamed to myself (since it would be pointless to scream to the kids in the next room). I contemplated the dinosaur toys on the tub floor but quickly decided against anything that would take my eyes off the thing. No one really wants a 'squito landing on them in the shower... especially that one. It was pretty much pointless since mosquito's are like.... (forgive the nerd here) a Klingon Bird of Prey, I swear the buggers can cloak themselves. So one moment I'm staring at it and the next it's gone. “Great.”

Did You Hit Him?

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So the kids are out playing in the water when I hear this WHAP! And then the baby is crying. I go outside just sure I know what's happened (since it's pretty common). And what do I find? A 2 year old boy with a bright red hand print on his back and his brother standing nearby acting as innocent as the day he was born. “Did you hit him?” I asked, rather exasperated. “No.” Was the reply. “Come here.” I say, turning the baby around so his brother can see the huge hand print. “Did you hit him?” He's caught now, and he knows it, the evidence is pretty clear. “Yes.” *insert lecture here* I had to take a picture, but it didn't come out as well as I had hoped... camera phones being what they are and all... so I tweaked the image a little for your viewing pleasure. If you look at the bright red spot you can almost make out the image of a hand, most especially the thumb. I think it's funny he thought he could get away with a simple 'no.' It was soooo

Fire Alarms and Sleepy Moms

This morning at around 4:30 AM I woke to a strange beeping sound. I groggily sat up and wondered what that dreadful noise was but soon realized that Ralexwin was no longer in bed next to me so I fell back to sleep. Fast forward 30 minutes and Ralexwin is in the bedroom getting dressed. "What was that sound?" I ask sleepily. "The fire alarm." He says pulling his shirt over his head. "In the house?" (not quite awake yet) "Downstairs by the furnace." "What was wrong?" I mumble. "Hmm?" I must not be talking very clearly. "Was there smoke or something?" "No, just the battery dying." "How long did it go off for?" "About twenty minutes before I just took the stupid battery out." I sit up a little more awake. "Did you just say that thing was going off for 20 minutes?" "Yeah." He's pulling socks on now. I fall back to my pillow. "Pretty affective fire alarm there. How

Speak and They May Listen

I have to speak in church on Sunday. For those of you not of my faith this is a common practice amongst members. We take turns speaking for to the congregation in order to share our testimonies and gain further insight into the doctrine of Christ. It can also be fairly... interesting, but that's for another blog. The trick to this entire thing is to avoid the Bishop at all costs. If you see him coming down the hall in your direction it's probably best to hop on into the bathroom. I totally walked into this one. I was chatting with him and he says, "I tried to call you last week, but no one answered." "Did you leave a message?" I asked, "because I don't answer my phone unless I recognize the number and if you don't leave a message I figure it wasn't that important." He chuckled, "Well if I leave messages of this sort I don't tend to get calls back." I paused, this could mean one of several things. 1) I was about to be asked

John Hancock-Win?

Oh dear... someone tell me they had a daughter as precocious as mine... please. (This is verbatim, with only minor changes in spelling... it was slipped under my door the other night.) Declaration of Independence (with 7 alien rights) I Vicbowin hereby declare: *Freedom from brushing hair *Freedom from cleaning rooms *Freedom from baby bedtime *Freedom to have sleepovers *Freedom to have my own bathroom (and washcloths) *Freedom to get pounds of allowance *Freedom to not get yelled at.

Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull

In his lifetime Sitting Bull was leader/chief of the Sioux. He was a strong opponent to the continued settlement of the white population and subsequent relocation of the Native Americans . He refused to be settled onto a reservation. These actions were valiant, indeed they were great and stirring to the soul, but in furthering my argument about the need for a leader and a fighter it could be stated that Sitting Bull's actions might also have been ineffective and perhaps unknown to history were it not for Crazy Horse. I consider Crazy Horse to be the fighter in this example. When Custer was sent to enforce order it was Crazy Horse who used the weapons. He was the sword that moved the injustices wrought upon the Sioux into our school books. However, would the actions of Crazy Horse been remembered if not for the actions of Sitting Bull? I believe the two to be inseparable, but in roles rather than in person. The leader had need of the fighter to further their cause. Equally the fight

Edgar Allen Poe-Win?

My 7 year old girl is at it again... Her imagination is enough to give one pause. Here's what she handed me yesterday with a proud smile of accomplishment and a "Mom, I wrote a poem, see." Haunted A poem by Vicbowin I have no friends Because my mom was killed by a gangster My dad ran away for a trip But never returned My friends were haunted My dog got buried My hamster died The only friend I have is my parrot. What am I going to do with her?

June Theme: Viva La Liberty

Since everyone and their mother (if their mother blogs... and lives in the US of A) will be talking patriotism in July, I thought I'd jump on the bandwagon a month early so that you'll all still read me when you're sick of honor, glory and loyalty next month. :) So I've come up with a rather grand theme. Liberty, but not just any libratarianistic (I love making up words) idea. No. I propose that the fight for liberty and freedom. The rebellion against what is perceived to be wrong--which depends greatly on where you are in the world and what political faction you lean towards--can only succeed if there are two forms of personages involved. Namely the leader and the fighter, or the patriot and the rebel. My husband thinks this is a topic destined to break under me. He thinks it's to thin of an argument. He's probably right, he usually is. I will however ignore his wise counsel and go with this as it is bouncing around in my brain like a rubber ball with a mind of

Sure Signs of Old Age

There are those commonly known signs that say..."you're getting older." -graying, thinning hair -wrinkles around the eyes - a flat tire around the waist Then there are the not so visible signs of aging like when you sneeze and have to change your pants (or is that a mom thing?). When you stand and all your joints 'pop' back into place. When a large meat lovers with an order of bread sticks and soda becomes both financially and cardiacticly (is that a word) frivolous. When the waist on your pants goes back up and you start seeing the clothes you wore as a kid on the racks again (I recently saw a form of saddle pants in the jr . miss section). My favorite is musical and cinematic preferences... Boy can that one date you. When did preferring Sean Connery as James Bond make you look old? Another one of these is Star Trek (as you all know I love) someone recently wrote on a notebook 'Captain's Log' and I chuckled to myself and wrote ' Stardate 0102

Mom Will You...?

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The amount of appreciation children give to their parents can be easily measured... Not in pounds but in ounces. There is a constant underlying expectation of perfection in everything you do, an unspoken understanding that you do your best just for them. And yet rarely is this effort recognized for its value. Recently I checked a book out from the library for them-- The Dragon Drawing Book . It proved too difficult for them to follow but they sure enjoyed the pictures. That's where parents (namely this one) come in. "Mom can draw it." "How do you know?" "Cause she's an artist." Now where on Earth the blind confidence in my skills came from is truly beyond me. As is when I achieved the title of 'artist' (I wish I'd known this... I could have been getting paid!). Yet regardless of these things the unspoken expectation was clearly evident... mom can draw these dragons and she can do it well. Hmm... these dragons were very well

What's For Dinner?

I'm pretty sure I fed my family part of my fingernail last night. For obvious reasons I didn't mention this to them at the time. It could have been worse of course... See I was using my favorite knife to cut some onions for dinner (I'm a big onion person). The reason I like this particular knife is because it's sharp and has thus far stayed that way. So there I am alone for a few minutes no kids hanging on apron strings or tossing cooking utensils out windows, and you know what I discovered? I can't cut veggies without distraction. Chop, chop, chop, gasp. I quickly inspected my thumb for blood and thankfully found none (I've done this before... With a turkey and a pointer finger, that was probably 13 years ago and I still can't feel the tip of it) It wasn't until the onions were in the pot cooking away that I noticed the knick in my nail. What do you do when you realize there are small, likely unnoticed, body parts in your soup? I don't work in a re