Memorial day weekend and veggie burgers

This weekend, we went down to Brown County, IN and stayed with my honey's sister and brother in law, and their 10 year old.  It was a really nice time.  We rented a cabin in the woods, hiked a bit, and hung out.  We also visited a Vegan / Vegetarian restaurant in Bloomington IN.  There was a sign on the bathroom door.  I am going to bungle this up, but it said something to the effect of "Current building codes require us to label one bathroom door Men, and one Women.  We realize some of our customers may identify as something else.  Please use whatever bathroom you wish." 

It made me giggle, and realize that I miss Bloomington.  Where else are you going to find bathroom doors making political statements.  I mean, you expect it from the walls, but from the doorway? 

Since I had today off, I cooked!  Because that's what any sane person does when they have a national holiday...  Meatless Monday this week consisted of an experiment in veggie burgers.  I took leftover hummus, mixed it with grated carrots, mushrooms, cucumber, celery and oatmeal, and pan fried it in olive oil.  It tasted quite good, but the structural integrity was lacking.  I think next time, I'll either add more oatmeal (or maybe brown rice), or deep fry the resulting cakes.  Regardless, I think it's time to do some studying for veggie burgers.

Da new Job

As I've mentioned several times, I've recently (Five months ago!) started a new job.  It's been a bit of a rocky road so far - this place has some interesting personnel to say the least - For example, one of my direct reports goes "Squatching" in his spare time.  As you might infer, this involves hiking through the woods, looking for Bigfoot.  Another of the ladies who works in the front office believes that the ghost of her son's friend haunts her house, and occasionally squeezes her rear.  Another of the guys has serious anger management issues and likes to fling wooden pallets across the room.  Then there's the fella who plays drums, and it's ALL he talks about.  He also gets mad if you try to bring up a topic that isn't his drums.  Like work.  And when he's mad, he ignores you rather pointedly.  It's an interesting place. 

Anyway, I've been hired in to a position that has had a lot of turnover.  So there's a lot to catch up on.  It's made for some stressful interesting days.  It's frustrating by turns, and makes me want to tear my hair out.  But what can you do? 

Also?  They sing.  It's a factory.  And they sing.  A lot.  As in, every day I get serenaded by someone different.  And it's not all Metallica, or Pete Seeger songs.  I get songs from West Side Story, or Doris Day, or Radiohead, or The Wheels on the Bus.  The honey thinks they are putting me on to see how far I'll just smile and nod about this stuff.  Today, I heard a Mrs Robinson, and Taxi duet. 

It makes number crunching a whole lot more interesting.

Derby Day!

I do love the Kentucky Derby.  It makes me ridiculously happy to watch 20 some horses run for about 2.5 minutes.  It's exciting.  The horses are always beautiful, and I just love watching the ladies on tv with their hats and color coordinated separates. 

Today our buddy Kevin came over, and watched the Derby with us.  The Captain was a little fussy, I'm not sure if that's because he's got molars coming in, or if it's because we used the ice crusher to make mint juleps.  Hard to say.  But I made the boys wear hats, and we chatted and watched the Derby.  We've hereby declared that this year is going to be the year of adventures.  Each of us gets to pick a location / event.  If it's not too difficult to get there, we are going to try to go. 

Mine of course is the Derby.  Considering we are an hour away, it's kind of a no brainer.  Other thoughts tossed around were comicon, the Gilroy Garlic Festival, or perhaps a wine festival or two.  After all, you only live once. 

But I already have my Derby outfit picked out...  because I happen to have a pale pink suit, and a kick butt Derby hat.  :)

Sunday's deep thoughts

The honey and I are looking for a new house.  Don't get me wrong, I love our house.  It's over 100 years old, it has hardwood floors, lovely woodwork, a nice layout, and a pretty good sized back yard.  It's a nice house.  It also happens to be in a high crime area of the city.  It's kind of a long story how we ended up here.  But suffice to say, the honey and I had never had to call 911 in our lives before we moved in.  Now we don't even flinch when we have to do so. 

It's sad because there are a lot of memories here.  The honey proposed to me in the kitchen.  The Captain (note bene, from here on out, Baby boy is going to be referred to as The Captain) took his first steps here.  I confused the kitty with The Captain.  But, long story short, I don't think this is a place to raise a child. 

Every time I take The Captain for a walk, I get comments from my neighbors.  They are mostly flattering, such as "You taken?"  Or, "Where's your man?"  I usually respond to such sallies with a smile, and an, "I'm married".  In other circumstances, I think I'd be flattered?  In these, I somehow feel like I ought to hurry home and lock the door. 

There's always trash.  Everywhere.  Trash in the streets.  Trash on the yards.  I try to keep it picked up in front of our house.  The local schools are un-good.  Our garage has been broken in to, a bullet has come through our tv room window, and we've had a shoot out down the street.  Twice.

So we are thinking quite seriously of moving.  I still believe that in about 10 years this area will be lovely.  There are enough hardworking good folks around that will make it so.  The honey and I just don't have ten years to wait.   

New job...

The encouraging phone call translated in to new job.  I now have an impressive sounding title, a whole lot more responsibility, and not that much more pay.  But hey, I no longer have to go back and forth from Wisconsin. 

I do miss some of my old office folks though.  The new job has an interesting mix of high school graduates, and Phd's.  I'm one of the few odd professionals out.  It makes for interesting conversations at the water cooler.  Although I'm getting a whole new repertoire of bad jokes - As in - Did you hear about the cannibal who passed his mother in the woods?  Get it?  ...

I can't say I dislike it.  There's been a big adjustment, but the fellas I work with (it's always fellas) have been helpful, for the most part.  As my momma puts it - B's new job is pretty high level, and somewhat stressful...  I think I wanted the responsibility?  

Baby boy is almost 15 months old.  He is walking well, sorta talking, and still generally awesome.  In the mornings, he wakes up and tackles me.  It's one of my favorite things ever.  His eyes are still blue, and his giggle is well, even better than his tackle. 

The honey and I have been discussing theoretical second baby lately.  After baby boy was born, my Dr. told us not to think about it till he was 18 months old.  That's only three months away!  It's a scary prospect.  Baby boy is wonderful, and I wouldn't trade him for the world.  But the idea of second kiddo is somehow more frightening.  It's like all of a sudden we should get a dog and a white picket fence to go along with our prospective brood, and we're not white picket fence kind of people.  Don't freak out here readers - we haven't bought a mini-van yet. To be brutally honest, I'm not sure that second baby is on the horizon.  It's been hard enough for me to work full time with one.  I keep thinking that being a working mom will get easier each day I pack up and head to the office, but I'll be honest.  It hasn't  I hate leaving him every day, even though my mom is the one watching him.  I just keep thinking I've failed as a momma, even though I finally have the job title I thought I wanted.   

Erm....  Hi. 

Where to start? 

Some days, I think life is out to get me. 

Some days, I think life is easy.  

Today, well, I just don't know.  It's not exactly like there is middle ground between the two.  So here are the good things I have to report: 

I am now 33.  I have always liked the numbers that have two of the same.  11, 22, etc.  They have always been good years.  I see no reason 33 will be less than good. 

Honey bought me a new hairpin that is awesome.  I only put this because thinking of how much stress he went through to find something I would like makes me smile...  Not that it makes me happy to stress him out, but, it's nice to know he really thought about a present I would like, and worried about the the fact I might like it.  The pin is nice, and I actually really like it,  but he wanted me to like it...  you get the idea. 

I got an encouraging phone call today... I know this is vague...

I spun a pretty bit of silk.  This means I can weave a bit more of my scarf.

A note to my son...

Hey sunshine, 

You are officially the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I love you more than I can say...  Your daddy gets a bit miffed when I say that, but it's true. 

Your current favorite activities when you get home from daycare are nursing, eating solid foods, and playing trucks with your mama.  - Not necessarily in that order.

Your mama's favorite activities when she gets home from work are playing trucks, feeding you, snuggling you, and hanging out with your daddy.  Again, not necessarily in that order.  Although, playing trucks is right up there! 

At this point, I don't know who you will be.  Maybe you'll be an engineer.  We are related to  a lot of them.  Maybe you'll be a non-engineer like your mama.  There aren't a lot of us in the family.  Maybe you'll be a chef, or a librarian like your adopted aunt Jessi or an IT guy like a lot of the menfolk in your family or your adopted uncle Kevin...  Maybe you'll just be yourself.  Not a lot of folks get to do that, but that's my hope for you.  I hope you can be you, and never feel the need to apologize. 

You scare me sometimes.  You fall asleep in my arms so readily.  You smile when I sneak - not so stealthily - around the corner - and give the baby belly laugh.  My hope for you, and for myself as well perhaps, is that you will always find joy in someone not so stealthily sneaking up on you and grinning.  Long live the belly laugh, and individualism.

Love, your Mama.