Wednesday, February 25, 2009

The Case of the Missing H

Yesterday I received this email from a lady named Lori: (I deleted some info to protect her privacy)

Hi Sadie! Thank you so much for the compliment; You've made my day! I did have some pieces in _______ at the Visitor's Center and _______ a higher end ladies shop; however, unfortunately, I've slacked on renewing the items there because I stay home with my 3 year old daughter and just haven't had the time to make a great deal of new pieces. Give me a call if you are ever going to be in the ________or ________ area I would be more than happy to meet up with you somewhere that is convenient for you and show you what I have. Just let me know. Have a great day!

I was very confused by this email, because I did not remember corresponding with Lori, though she seemed very nice. So I responded:

I am having a serious attack of allergies today, and that may be why I am experiencing this blank mindedness...but I do not know what you are referring to. Could you help me out?Thanks

It was a little awkward because I really was having some awful allergy/cold head fog and was genuinely afraid that I had sent her a nice email and then completely forgotten who she was. How embarrassing! But then she responded:

I received an Etsy convo from you yesterday regarding my jewelry; you said that you travel to Indiana often and you were curious whether I had my jewelry for sale in any shops here in the state. Sorry about your allergies; I understand completely!

Huh? Etsy? Jewelry? Indiana?! So I go into detective mode, and try to think of what to do next. I logged onto Etsy and tried to find her as a seller there, but because I did not have her username (and really had no clue what to look for) I found nothing. The thought crosses my mind that maybe someone has stolen my identity...

and is shopping for handmade jewelry with it?

That would be a very strange thing to do after going through the effort of stealing a person's identity. So then I think, "Oh lord. I know I have been under alot of stress lately, but surely I'm not forgetting whole shopping endeavors." So I check the history of my computer. Whew! No visits to Etsy the day before. I write back to Lori:

Well that concerns me because I know for sure that I was not on Etsy yesterday, and I have never been to Indiana... I'm assuming this is the email address that was attached to the message you got, could you forward it to me or something? I'm a little worried that something fishy is going on.

And a little later she responds:

Here is the convo; as i can see, I left out the h in the gmail address. There must actually be someone else named Sadie with a gmail address so close to yours... That seems like such a coincidence! Also, for both Sadie's to be familiar with Etsy; so many people have yet to hear of it... Very strange! I apologize for pestering you; thank you for being so kind. I'll go send it to the right person now... Take care of those allergies! Take care!
My apologies,

Aha! So the email address she received from this other Sadie is identical to mine, except for an "h" in the middle, which clearly could easily be missed.

So I wrote:

Whoo! That is such a relief! I thought I was doing Etsy shopping in my sleep or something! And making up trips to Indiana. Anyway, I'm glad to get that worked out, and I hope Sadie buys some of your jewelry.

Case Closed.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Random Sunday Pictures

These are my knees and the wounds they sustained when
I played volleyball last night without kneepads. That was
a silly decision because I know full well that my favorite
part of volleyball is the falling down part.

Today I realized that I had talked and talked about the
torture that The Land of Teething was making us
endure. But then, when Norah's teeth finally came in, I
didn't share the news, or any pictures of how cute those
little razors are.

These are some of the pictures I took in an attempt to
capture her pearly whites.

Ok, so...this isn't working. Must find
another tactic.

Maybe I could just force her to show
her teeth...

So close!

SUCCESS! (click to see a bigger picture)

Unshowered on a Sunday. Norah looks thrilled to
be all shoved up next to me.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

10 Months

Dear Norah,

You're 10 months old! For some reason 10 months sounds waa-aaa-aaay older than 9 months. Like now you are on the verge of becoming a 1 year old, and what in the world am I going to do with a 1 year old? And I have to plan a 1 year old party! How do I do that? I have no idea.

A few days ago I was all weepy and mopey because you are getting older and more independent and it was making me sad for some reason. My baby is growing up and it just hit me and I wasn't really ready for it. So there I was, sad and mopey, and Jasmine told me, and I quote "You should turn off the...'holy hell my baby is growing' fountain and turn on the 'this is friggin' amazing I kept her alive this long-I am amazing' spout." To which I replied, "Ok ok ok, the growing fountain is all turned off. The my baby is awesome and wondrous fountain is back on."

Norah, Jasmine was so right, and I am so glad to have a friend to help keep me sane like that. Because you are awesome. You are so awesome. Sometimes when I watch you play, I am just amazed at how much you have changed and grown, and how stinking smart you are. Like today, you figured out how to open the door on your little toy barn and put the lid back on your Cheerio container. You learn more every single day and it is incredible to watch.

You have picked up the idea of "No!" very well. There are some things you know you aren't supposed to play with, like a lamp cord, but you try to anyway. You will slowly crawl over to the cord, and slowly reach out to touch it, looking back at me every few seconds. Then when you get close I say "Norah" with that ominous tone, and you pull your hand back. We go through this several times before you decide to move on with your life. But not all lessons are so easy to learn. Just yesterday you got into a battle of wills with your grandma over whether you could play with the lamp. She won. You cried. It was hard not to laugh at you, standing there at the table wearing nothing but a diaper. I could see how much you wanted to touch the lamp, but you know what "No" means and every time you tried you heard that word. Your little fists balled up and you cried, but you didn't touch the lamp. Good girl.

In the mornings you come and play in my bed while I lay there and wish we could sleep a little longer. I would say that out of all the mornings in your life, we have done this little ritual on 97% of them. When you wake up I make you a bottle and bring you to bed where you eat it. Then I try to trick myself into thinking you will go back to sleep, but you never do. So we lay in bed and play for a good 15-30 minutes, and Norah, it is my favorite time of day. You're so silly and hilarious and full of life. I love to listen to you jabber and yell and watch out for flying fists or feet. On mornings when you get especially silly your dad and I call you "Lunatic Baby" because that is exactly what you act like. You flop from one person to another, yelling and talking and laughing and punching who ever is unlucky enough to get their eyeballs in the way of your antics.

You have become and extraordinarily messy eater in the past month, Norah. You enjoy feeding yourself, but sometimes (ok alot of times) you miss your mouth and drop food on the floor or in your lap or down your shirt. Cleaning up after a meal always takes a long time. You also like to put food in your mouth and then take it out again. I don't know why you do this but most of the time it's not a big deal. Except when you eat yogurt. When you spit the yogurt back out so you can feel it with your fingers, it all spills down your chin and onto your belly and your legs and feet. And then you get a bath.

I know that parents always have big dreams for their children, dreams of sports stars and scholars and musicians. I am not immune to this impulse, and after what I witnessed today, I have solidified my future plans for you. I think you are going to be on Broadway. You have a clear ear for music. I am not making this up Norah, even though people may think I am-you can recognize songs after hearing them just once. You recognize them, and know when you hear them again. Amazing! You love to dance, mostly like a tiny little Elvis. And today we were listening to music from The Phantom of the Opera, My Fair Lady, and other musicals-you were transfixed. You sat in my lap, and stared at the computer screen, very still. I watched you, you have the music in your soul Little One!

Sweet baby, you are such a joy in my life. I am so impressed with the little baby that you are, and I am so excited to watch as you continue to grow and learn. You make my heart fill up with love and pride and awe. I love you, Turkey.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Outside the Box

I am going to take a page from my sister's book and share one of my most favoritest meals. (Yeah, I just said favoritest.)

Vegetarian Tacos or Burritos Either One
(Ground beef or turkey can be added as well, to make them non-vegetarian.)

1 package Mexican or Spanish Rice
3(ish) cups homemade Mexican or Spanish Rice

1 can refried beans. (I like the low-fat kind.)

1 avocado

1/2 tomato

Garlic powder, salt, pepper, lemon or lime juice to taste

1 cup raw spinach

Sour cream


Shredded cheese


Start with any kind of Mexican or Spanish rice that you like. I can never remember what brand I like the best, they are all pretty good. You could also make your own flavored rice, but that's too involved for me.

While the rice is cooking, make some guacamole. I have tried pre-made guacamole before, and while I am all about pre-made rice, pre-made guac is not an option for a snob like me. Besides, it is super easy to make.

For 1-2 servings mash one ripe avocado and mix with 1/2 chopped tomato. Then add garlic powder, salt, pepper, and either lemon or lime juice to taste. Some people add jalapenos too, but not me.

After making the guacamole put aside to let it all settle together.

While the guacamole is settling, heat the beans. I buy low-fat refried beans because they are just as tasty but don't have the lard. Lard freaks me out.

While the beans are heating, tear the spinach into small pieces and heat the tortillas.

Once everything is heated, layer rice, beans, guacamole, spinach, sour cream, salsa, and shredded cheese onto the tortillas. Then fold and enjoy!

These are especially delicious with margaritas (not that I would know from personal experience or anything...John Brown.)

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Ben Folds-Still Fighting It

I have loved this song since I first heard it on a cd Lesley made for me when I left UNM. I love it even more now, because now, I am the bird wearing a brown polyester shirt. (Give it a minute to load.)

Ben Folds - Still Fighting It (Official Music Video) - More bloopers are a click away

Tuesday, February 10, 2009


As I wrote last week, I am in my last semester of college. I managed to save for my last semester of college really cool classes like Geography, Family Communication, Seminar in Psych, and Aerobic Walking/Jogging.

Mostly I like my classes. I don't loathe going to any of them. Except walking. I am really ticked about this walking class, because its not like I can just check into class twice a week, walk for thirty minutes and then leave. I have to check in twice a week, walk, keep track of my heart rate, and carry Norah around with me. THEN! I have to do the same thing three more days a week on my own. I have to walk FIVE DAYS A WEEK! That is ludicrous.

There are other reasons I don't like that class, but because I am still a student at JBU, and you never know who is reading your blog, I will refrain from explaining those other reasons until I am no longer enrolled at JBU.

So yeah. I don't like walking class. But it would be the ultimate shame in my life to fail walking class so I show up, twice a week and walk and walk and walk. And two to three days a week I walk outside of class too. But on Saturday, I didn't walk. An alien took over my body and took control of my limbs, and I ran.

People, this is momentous. I ran! For like, 10 whole minutes. And then I ran again yesterday. For like 12 minutes. And then I died. But after I died, I came back to life and realized that all the stress that had been weighing down on my back and my shoulder and my head, was gone. Apparently, stress does not like running.

So, in order to not let the stress of this last semester of college get the best of me and cause me to tear out all my hair and make a little voodoo doll that looks mysteriously like the founder of my school, I am going to keep walking and keep running.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

The Time Has Come, The Walrus Said

I talked to my sister Sara on the phone yesterday, and Lord she is hilarious. We are both, fingers crossed, graduating this May. I found out that my graduation is a week before hers, and I take great pride in the fact that I will graduate first, even if just a week before her, because I have been in college a year longer than she has. I'm lazy, what can I say.

Anyway, we were talking about the fact that we are both graduating, and I starting thinking today about what that really means. Honestly, I can't wrap my mind around that. How can I wrap my head around the idea that when May rolls around and summer begins, there will not be another semester looming in three short months?


I wonder if I will miss it. My first quick answer is of course, No! N to the O! Why in the world would I miss this torture? The constant worry and stress and always having something I should be working on? The classes that are so inconveniently scheduled during ER? Will not miss any of that junk.

But then, I consider this:
My first car was a light blue/silver Toyota Corolla. It was old, nearly as old as me. It boasted roll down windows, manual locks, a radio and a stylish red plaid blanket that covered the backseat to protect passengers from the disintegrating upholstery. I hated that car, envied my friends who drove nicer, flashier cars, and never stopped to consider that I should be grateful just to have some wheels.

Not too long after I got my driver's licence, I got in a wreck. It was easily one of the scariest things I have ever experienced, and luckily no one was hurt. No one besides my car. I was able to drive it home, but we all knew it would cost more than the car was worth to fix the damage.

I remember when I drove with my dad to drop it off at the auto shop, and remember being strangely sad when we left it there. Even sadder, when we brought it home and sold it to some guy for $200. The radiator was cracked, it was not worth much more. I suppose it could be my tendency to anthropomorphize things like shoes, stuffed animals, books, and cars that made me so sad to see the Toyota go. Regardless, my heart had a strange ache to it when the guy drove away. I was going to miss that car.

I wonder if I will feel the same about college, when it is gone and I am done. I'm almost certain I will look back with nostalgia and probably a little regret. Regret that I did not experience many things I thought I would, that I did not do as well as I could have, that I skipped classes and missed opportunities to really learn and grow. So while I am certainly glad that this time in school is coming to an end, I imagine I will feel a little blue when it's all done and over.

After graduation I plan on staying home with Norah, working maybe two shifts a week at the shelter. I love the idea of getting to stay home with her, because really that is what I've always wanted to do. I have always imagined that when I had kids, I would stay home with them. My mom, Donna, was always home with us, and I loved that.

(I need to clarify here that I do not believe that moms who stay at home are better than moms who work outside the home. I understand and respect that some women want and need to work outside the house. My mom, Emily, worked when we were young. I don't think women's mothering skills should be based entirely on whether they work in or out of the house. Neither kind of mom is better, just different.)

Anyway, that's the plan, and it's kind of nice having a plan. But sometimes I wonder if people think I wasted my time in school because I may not "use" my degree. I wonder if people look down on me for wanting to stay at home, for choosing not to go to graduate school or work somewhere other than the children's shelter. I wonder if people think I am lazy, lack drive to help society, have an antiquated picture of motherhood, blah blah blah.

People probably don't really think that much about me and my choice to stay at home. Probably, I am just, once again, worried about what amounts to nothing.

But still, I don't believe I wasted anything. Even if I don't use my degree in a traditional kind of way, the things I have learned in college have obviously shaped my life, who I am. And learning, simply for the sake of learning, is a good and godly thing. I'm proud of myself for finishing, as there were many times in the past three years that I was really set on never graduating. I love my job at the shelter, second to being Norah's mama I think working there reveals what I am best at. As for being lazy, if you know me well then you already know that I really am lazy, but that's not why I want to stay at home with Norah.

I want to stay home with her because being her mom is the greatest job I could imagine. Because my picture of my motherhood centers around being with her during the day, to change diapers and play chase and draw pictures and garden. To sing songs and make cookies and go to the park with our friends. I want to be home with her, and clearly many of these desires come from the way things were when I was young and at home. That's what I imagine my motherhood to look like, and I am gratefully in a place where I can do that.

So to wrap up this long winded and rambling essay of sorts: I am glad I am going to finish school, more excited than seems bearable. I'm sure I will be strangely sad when it's all done, but the end of school will allow me more free time to devote to being the mama I have always wanted to be.

Monday, February 2, 2009


I hate my geography class.