hat for mr. reporter

A few months ago I had this brilliant vision of my FIVE GUYS braving the fallen snow with their shovels in hand as they quickly and thoroughly dug our family and the neighbors out of the record "snowfall of the century" sans grumbling. They were of course able to accomplish such a feat not because of the extra muscles they would have acquired over their summer full of weed pulling and lawn mowing, not because of their ergonomically correct shovels, but because of their exceptionally warm and well made Thorpes created by you-know- who.

This little idea made my heart jump with joy and my knitting needles click clack away as I worked industriously with the visually and tactually stimulating Malabrigo yarn (I kid you not). My plan was near it's completion. Three down... two more to go. And then BANG. I was stopped dead in my tracks as my thirteen year old very politely informed me that he really didn't think that a Thorpe hat worked with his style. What?!! I could have killed him.

Every mother at some point in her mothering career recognizes the moment when she needs to let go of the semblance of control. To know when to just smile when her kid informs her that he thinks that a green dye job really brings out the blue in his eyes. Knowing full well that if he manages to live into his twenties, his "idiot chip" will fall out and he will be able to make some reasonable decisions that will turn him into a fine, upstanding member of the community.

This was one of those moments.

"Are you freakin' kidding me, kid? I just spent the last two months knitting the other Thorpes for your dad and two brothers and not one of them complained! Really? You seriously don't want a Thorpe? This will completely ruin the whole wondrous plan!"

"Nope." said Mr. Reporter.

"So what kind of hat would you prefer?" replied the disgruntled and flabbergasted Lady.

" The World War II Watch Cap that Craft Queen made for charity. I really liked the look of it." said Mr. Reporter.

"Well, O.K. then." I said as the panic started to subside and my sanity began to return. Craft Queen has good taste. Mr. Reporter has good taste too. I'll just have to rethink the vision with the teenagers wearing different caps (who knows what my other teen will come up with!).

But the YARN will be MALABRIGO, damn-it! No exceptions.

mr. porcupine

Our lovely town in Lovely, PA is notorious for wrecking havoc on people's sinuses. Mr. Hero is no exception to this rule and has been quietly suffering for the last seven years. He has been to the doctor, who prescribed a round of steroids in an attempt to dry them out, which worked for a little bit, but unfortunately did not provide permanent relief (as is the case with most medications). As luck would have it, we happened to make some new friends that have an acupuncture practice and gave us the hope that these sinus problems really could be resolved after all.

Amazingly, after just the first session, Mr. Hero's sinuses started to drain and for the first time in years, he was able to breathe from his left nostril. I was able to nab some pictures of his last session (he should only have a handful of sessions this year and then after that, probably once a year for maintenance). Honestly, this looks scarier than it feels!

The whole idea behind acupuncture is that as you place tiny needles in various points on the body, the chi (or energy )is manipulated which then provides the body an opportunity to heal.

Mr. Hero chillin' out for about thirty minutes while listening to soothing music. Notice the needles in his EARS? (There were needles placed in is arms as well).

mittens to bulgaria

Way back in January, I came across a knitting charity in Ohio called Global Knits. They collect knitted items like hats, scarves, mittens, and socks and then send them off to Bulgaria, Afghanistan, and Haiti. Global Knits has a partnering organization already located in these countries, who then distribute these knitted goods to those in need. Check out their website at

http://www.globalknit.org/ .

Mittens that will be sent to Bulgaria

a reader is born

Mr. Reporter took a jab at the leading role of Rupert, in DW's touring show, Rupert Meets Mrs. Tales. This play is about a book phobic pack rat who gets lured into the illuminating world of reading by means of a magical book which brings all of it's fairy tale characters to life.

Rupert meets each of these characters, from the Wicked Witch in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, to Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion in the Wonderful Wizard of Oz. His job is to make sense of it all (is he really going mad?) and help the characters find solutions to their dilemmas. Of course, since Rupert doesn't read and hasn't heard of most of these stories, he needs the audience's help to resolve these problems and keep everyone on the right page (literally, in some cases). This library adventure convinces Rupert that there really is a lot of fun to be found in those boring "thing a ma jigs" that don't have any "windy things" or batteries, and hence, a voracious reader is born. (Fine trick, if you ask me!)

Mr. Reporter with Mr. Ninja

Mr. Reporter with the cast of characters

Rupert deciding that no one can make him read that book...

Mr. Reporter back stage

readin' time

When Mr. Hero and I first started on our homeschool journey, we were advised to be careful not to squelch our child's interest in reading by forcing them to read when they don't want to and give them books that they resist. Well, I'm guilty on both accounts. But comics are GREAT! And he is reading...all by himself.

shoes for summer

They might look new now...but summer is here. They've got places to go.

wanna join the circus!

Mr. Reporter's unicycle just came in. This is a much anticipated and belated birthday present and after deciding that it probably wasn't a good idea to FORCE our son into getting a bicycle, he was free to choose what he really wanted. You know...a bike without handle bars...and minus a wheel of course.

PS. About the wheel...it is extra thick so that it can handle the off road trails. Yikes.

june

butterfly bush and blueberries...both in wait.

rated "R" movies

It has only been within the last seven months that my sweetheart and I have started to watch rated "R" movies. In the past, we would only watch rated "R" movies that had historical merit, movies such as "Schindler's List", "Saving Private Ryan, and "Band of Brothers".
Growing up, my parents weren't as strict about this rule as I later came to be. As a teen, some of my favorites were "St. Elmo's Fire", "The Breakfast Club", and "Creator". We also watched some scary ones like " A Nightmare on Elm St." and " The Exorcist". Yet I always felt like there were evil spirits in our home whenever we watched the scary ones. Like there was someone following me up the stairs or something... I don't know... maybe there were. Nah.

Well, after a very long hiatus, Mr. Hero and I picked up some really good ones and I have to admit that at first when I watched them, I was uncomfortable with the sex and the "f" word and the nudity. But after thinking about their story, I found that I really liked them. Some moved me to tears, some made me laugh hysterically, some made me want to learn more about wine, and all of them made me feel grown-up.

Here are a few movies we've seen recently that we really liked.

"Answer Man"


"Bridget Jones Diary"


" Then She Found Me"



"Sideways"


My friend, Britta and her sister Kari just told me about the new "Sex in the City" movie. Nope, haven't ever watched a single episode of this t.v. show. Guess I won't be ready for the movie before I do...and Brit feels I'm not ready for the t.v. shows...yet. Sounds like a good idea for a girls night in. Who's up for it?

the dance of the dissident daughter

Ok... so I have been reading this book every morning as I sit on my back porch and drink my coffee. And I have a to tell you that I am really getting it. This book is resonating in my heart feelings of love, value, acceptance, and peace with who I am as a woman. In church, from as long as I could remember, we had been taught that there was a Heavenly Mother. Yet other than the mention of her in the hymn, O My Father, she wasn't spoke of. The reason being that she is too sacred.

Now that I am no longer a member of the Mormon church, I am free to ponder whether or not I believe that a Heavenly Mother would be "too sacred" to think about, talk about, or even pray to. When I think about motherhood and the tremendous amount of love that is found therein from the very moment a woman finds out that she will be having a child, I can't help but revolt at the idea that a woman would want to be shielded from her child. That she wouldn't want to hear from them at all.

My son, Mr. Tailor is going to be gone for the next five weeks, working at his first job at a boys scout camp, and I have to admit that he has only been gone one day, and I miss him terribly. The thought of not being able to communicate with him during this time is painful. I remember speaking to women who had sent their sons and daughters on missions and they confided in me that the time that their children were gone felt like a death. The practice that the Mormon church has in only allowing their missionaries to call home on Mother's day and Christmas is just cruel, in my opinion.

So as I have been thinking about a feminine divine, I have been amazed at the research that Sue Monk Kidd has been able to uncover in her quest for a feminine divine. I am amazed at the references in the Bible to a female divine. I love the fact that Jesus Christ adored women. That he defended them and healed them. I am also reassured through her experience that the answers that we search for in our hearts, come forth in our own perfect timing. We just have to be open to asking the questions.

remembering

weeds

Even the weeds spring forth PRETTY flowers...

into the garden

Ever wake up in the morning and feel like your head was as big and stuffy as the state of Texas?

I just had one of those mornings. I've been really worried about my first paper that I'd be writing for my Business Law class. It has been seventeen years since I've been in school, and I wanted to make sure that I could cut it. I had told Mr. Hero that I would be out of commission for the weekend. And before I got started, I thought some time in the garden might clear my aching head.

And it got me thinkin'...



Why is it that women don't like to get dirty?

I grew up in a small town out West back in the '70's and 80's. Half of the time, my sisters, brother and I were running outside barefoot... and that's how we preferred it. We had this gravel driveway that used to toughen up the bottom of our feet and it was quite the accomplishment if we could run up the drive without feeling any pain.

Early summer was always painful because our feet had been cooped up all winter in our socks and shoes.

Gettin' lazy.

So when summer approached, we took the first chance we could get to air out our toes. And they stayed that way until school started in late August.

I'm 37 years old now, and I still like to get my toes all dirty.



Maybe some things will never change.