Impatient for Spring

I'm just so done with the cold, gray sky. If only the chilly wind would return the favor, and be done with me, we could all move on along here. Shesh! In my zeal for Spring I raked up the oak leaves from our yard last week. Aerated the ground, and stopped to stare, expectantly, at the bare earth.

The tulips, garlic and parsley shoots took pity on me and sprouted. Tiny wisps of green. A hint, a hope of more to come.

Naomi has been on Spring Break all week. Freed from her classroom my girl trekked out to the Pioneer Park Nature Center everyday. She scrambled into my back seat each day with mud caked shoes and socks, pink cheeks and an excited chatter.

Exciting as it is to spend time outside, under any conditions, we are aching for the ground to open up its box of colors.

C'mon, I'd shout out to Spring if I thought it would help. Get a move on. We're waiting already!

Some Assembly Required

Every year Lincoln Electric System (LES) pulls together a glossy Annual Report which essentially is a brag book about our programs and accomplishments. It’s a document LES circulates to bond agencies, board members, and customer-owners. I’m low enough on the totem pole that I’ve never had a hand in authoring the report, but have been pleased to read it when my copy arrives in the mail.

This year the Annual Report is profiling specific areas and people within the company. Somebody, somewhere plucked me out of the LES landscape as a person to profile.

I had lunch with someone from Corporate Communications. Jimmy John’s sandwich bribery was in full swing. I tried not to speak with my mouthful while we gabbed. She took notes. In case I said something printable I’ll be some blurb in the Annual Report. The part of this profiling gig nobody mentioned at the get-go was the photo shoot.

I show up, yesterday morning, having done my best to look presentable. I had double-brushed my teeth, slapped on what make up I could locate, and skipped my morning coffee because I’m a notorious coffee-slosher.

I stood outside the brightly-lit photo room and gave myself a little pep talk like I do before getting a flu shot. It won’t be so bad. Twenty minutes and it’s all over. Checking my sweater one, last time, for toothpaste or globs of food I walked into the room.

Get this: somebody hired a stylist.

I fidgeted nervously under her fixed gaze. This wasn't much like a flu shot. It was different somehow. We talked about her career. How high-definition imagery has changed make up in the stylist industry. With one last brush of the powder puff, the stylist said all done. She handed over a mirror. I didn’t look like Cleopatra or anything. It was just me. A better assembled version of me anyway. Sans the shiny forehead, and sporting a more flattering lip gloss. But still me.

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Currently Watching: 30 Rock (Season 1)
Currently Reading: 1215: The Year of the Magna Carta by D. Danziger & J. Gillingham
Recently Enjoyed: Reprise (2006)
Daily Soundtrack: That Time (Regina Spektor)
Early Morning Treadmill-Television Habit: Charlie Rose on PBS

But Don't Tell Anybody

It's coooooool being seven!
- Naomi

Naomi: So, mom, do I get a cake?
Me: Today?
Naomi: Yeh. A birthday cake.
Me: Oh....ummm.....maybe. You'll, for sure, have one at your party on Saturday.
Naomi: But my birthday is today.
Me: I know your birthday is today. I just didn't know you wanted a cake today.
Naomi: Well I do.
Me: Well, OK. I'll see if I can't make that happen.
Naomi: With candles.
Me: If the "maybe" cake gets baked today, it will have candles.
Naomi: When I was a kid I used to wish I could fly.
Me: You'd wish that on your birthday candles?
Naomi: Yeh.
Me: But you don't wish that anymore?
Naomi: Well...sometimes...but don't tell anybody. I'm seven now and that kid stuff, well, it's kind of embarrassing.

March Madness

My family celebrates three birthdays each March: mine, Naomi's, and my mom's. Several years ago we started the tradition of packing up, some weekend in March, to stay at the Lied Lodge in Nebraska City.

Having been cooped up inside all winter March is a good time for a road trip, and an excuse to ignore the pile of dishes in my kitchen sink.

Every year is a little bit different. The weather varies, preferences vary, the food stays the same. We occupy three rooms: one for Matt & Jen, one for my folks, and one with my brood. McKibbin never sleeps well but he's always good natured about it.

Naomi and I spent the morning with my mom at the Arbor Day Tree Adventure. My pedometer logged 11 miles on the treadmill. We swam, basted hot stones in the sauna, and painted our toenails. Naomi polished off 2 chapter books in the span of 36 hours. We warmed ourselves by the fireside and stared out at the misty morning.

This year the trip occupies that moment where the snow has all melted, the days have a warming trend, so we sit, and wait, for Spring.

Storybook Parade

N recently participated in the Storybook Parade at school. She was dressed as Cindy Loo Who from The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. Prescott's Media Specialist (Denise Ebeler) pulled the event together and I took time off from work to attend and take photos for the website. While my Cindy Loo was a show stopper in the heart and mind of her mother, I have to say the whole parade was just a hoot.

Surprising Myself

Three moments where my life surprised me:

1. A panicked phone call from my bank. Some unusual activity on my account. Had I made a nearly $10K purchase recently at a local coffee shop?

Ah-hem, no.

The charge had posted to my account already. I told the bank I would call the coffee shop and clear things up. Rang the coffee shop. Clearly got a college co-ed on the other end of the line.

May I speak to a manager?, I asked.

I'm a manager, the college co-ed said. I could feel the self fluffing that goes with a twenty-something with the title "manager". I explain the problem, and fluffed up manager asks if I'll hold on a moment. He holds the phone to his shoulder and tries to not entirely freak out.

It's that person who ordered a latte last week. He explains to a co-worker. The one where we charged her $10K.

To my surprise that latte order has become legendary among the barristas. I try to avoid self-fluffing as I realize: I am legend.
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2. Training for the 1/2 marathon I stopped at a distant YMCA for my date with a treadmill. I had seven miles to run. I had my gym bag in the trunk of my car. This YMCA location was on my way back from a conference in Beatrice.

I stopped.
I plugged in my ear plugs.
I ran.

At 6.75 miles I was interrupted by the front desk clerk. Yanked out my ear buds, tried not to trip on the treadmill, and was informed of the "t-shirt required dress code". My tank top wouldn't do.

Please cover up, the clerk said as she stared at her shoes.

I am surprised to realize how much energy I have to expel - feeling both embarrassed, and upset - after running 6.75 miles.
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3. McKibbin and I brought Naomi's bassinet down from the attic. With my brother and sister-in-law expecting the bassinet might come in handy. An inch of dust and cobwebs from attic layered on the surface, I resolved to clean up the bassinet before handing it over to the expectant parents. A free bassinet is nice, a free bassinet that is clean is nicer.

McKibbin helped me disassemble the pieces so I could wash the fabric. I wonder, out loud, whether this thing came already assembled? I have no gift for putting things together. I read the directions. I lay everything out. But I have no gift for putting things together.

No, McKibbin says simply. It came in a box. I put it together.

Really?

Yes.

Then I remember the hormonal train wreck that was my pregnancy. I wonder if I even tried putting this thing together? Most likely I tried, burst into inconsolable tears, and stormed out of the apartment. I asked McKibbin if this likely chain of events actually occurred?

He says he can't remember.
Smart guy.
Whether he remembers or not, sometimes lying is simply the best option.

The surprising thing is: I washed the fabric and re-assembled the bassinet all by myself. Not without considerable difficulty from my lack of talent in this area. For the record, though, I did it without crying, or stomping out, or anything.

Sunday Morning

I love Sunday mornings. The ambitious Sunday brunch plans start at our house the night before. Waffles? Pancakes? Omelets? Coffeecake? Naomi takes stock of the cupboards and refrigerator. McKibbin and I leaf through cookbooks. We went to bed this Saturday having agreed on pancakes. The honey-buttermilk variety.

Naomi was the first one out of bed in the morning. Her footed pajamas made a soft scuffing noise against the wood floor. I ventured to the grocery store, and McKibbin slept in. Friday’s snowfall was piled up along the street, and the sidewalks were clear. I bundled up and walked to the grocery store. Picked up the buttermilk, eggs, and some fresh coffee beans.

Arriving home I got the pancake batter ready. Naomi armed us with spatulas. McKibbin shuffled downstairs, in his robe, to start the coffee pot.

He poured the beans into the grinder, plugged it in. About half way through the task my trusty, old, coffee grinder coughed and gave up. We all stopped and stared. McKibbin unscrewed the case to see if it couldn't be fixed. Nope, it was ka-put. McKibbin resorted to using the blender as a coffee grinder and the morning rolled on.

(As a side note: I make lousy coffee. Always have. No excuse for it, really, nor explanation but it’s a fact: I make lousy coffee. I’ll drink it but my coffee makes everyone else choke.)

The coffee grinder was a relic of my life ten years ago. A belated Valentine’s Day gift I bought myself while living in a single-bedroom apartment, with hardwood floors and built in cabinets, by Denver University. The apartment was a space that, in the mess and solipsism of my twenties, I never managed to more fully appreciate nor keep clean.

The demise of the coffee grinder this Sunday inspired a family excursion to Target. Upon the advice of my husband (and daughter) we purchased one from Black & Decker. McKibbin is quick to note this grinder has replaceable grinder blades. Next time he cracks open the case, he’ll have something to fix.

Naomi admires the new one's steely color. I’m grateful for the appliance upgrade. And chuckled with agreement to purchase the Black & Decker. McKibbin offered to drive home, as he often does. The car felt crowded and warm. Naomi sang softly from the back seat to fill the silent air.

I don’t know why I mention it, exactly. Probably because for that moment I hoped to appreciate this life more than I have my others.
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Currently Reading with Naomi: Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson
Dinner Line-up: Indian Curry, Steamed Rice, Spinach Salad
Anxiously Awaiting from Blockbuster All-Access: Primer
Habit I'm Lobbying My Family To Form: Sunday Being Family-Clean-The-House Day
First Occurrence of Clean-The-House Day: Naomi was very, very curious about the term sweat-shop. She was also interested in the specific restrictions of child-labor laws.
Potential Over-share: Have I mentioned how excited I am to become an aunt? My brother and his wife, Jen, are expecting a bambino. ETA is April.