Blog has moved

According to the stats, it looks like everyone is aware that i have moved. But just in case, if you're still reading this, you're missing out on all of the fun boredom of the new prose on another site.

You are welcome to join the new party, just email at the address in the last post and I'll tell you where to find me again.

Moved the Blog

I have indeed moved the blog.

Email me at astlefamily at gmail dot com if you need the address to it.

Mr. Stalker has already made good use of that email address, so I have no problems handing it out. . .

I think I will be importing most of the posts from this blog to the new blog, so it will all be in one spot again. Because I have time for a stalker. . .

Short Story

I can't go into all of the details, but the short story is that I have my very own stalker. I have to go file a restraining order today and everything.

If all goes well, he'll also be in jail tonight. And the FBI suddenly wants to talk to him as well. Note to self: It's not a good idea to threaten someone over email these days.

Did I mention that the guy is batshit crazy? And at 5'8" and 150 pounds, I can probably take him without the use of the various weapons at my disposal, should he choose to enter my house while I'm home. . . Why is it always the little guys that think they are so tough? He totally has small dog syndrome.

Anyway, two things:
1) I am probably moving the blog to a new blog address. Even though I don't think he has found this yet.
2) For the short term, until I decide, I am placing the blog on a password. I hope. If I know how.

If you have my email address and want to continue to read this, please let me know. Otherwise, post a comment and I will let you know how to find me or what password to use.

And for your reading enjoyment, a little snippet of the email that this guy claims was just to "get my attention and make me call him back". I'm sorry I can't get into the back story on this. Just as soon as I can, I will. . .

" So i will see you later and i will see you later and just remember that you bought this all on yourself,i dont know what kind of people your used to dealing with,but i dont think you meet a motherf****r quit like me...and dont trip Im a night owl,and the homies in the neighborhood love to do things at night so it works out for all of us.....I cant wait to see the look on your face....God is a forgiving God for I am Not....."

Kinda funny that he will now barely be able to move between all of the FBI, Sheriffs, and even CHP officers who think he's scum. I may be a suburban house wife, but I'm much better connected than he realizes. And I am good to my friends, so they like to help me, however possible.

Bubbles

Once there was a child who was supposed to be babysitting.
She was supposed to make sure her brothers didn't burn the house down or drown in the bathtub or flood the hallway or make giant messes in the 10 minutes her mother was gone.
She was very good at ordering her brothers around.
Until she went in the garage and lit matches and burned things.

Once there was a mom who found a mess of burned paper, coated with carpet powder, all over the garage.
She was cranky and upset and most of all, freaked out that there were burned scraps of paper near gas cans and fertilizer and oil.
She asked all of her kids to tell the truth and fess up.
No one did.
Not even the child that had been left babysitting. That child blamed it on her brother.

And then mom figured it out.
And now that child has had her mouth washed out with soap for lying. Lots of liquid soap.
She is also residing in her room for a few months days.

Once there was a mom who needs a better punishment to get the point across on all levels of this disobedience and poor decision making. Please comment and share your thoughts.

Pictures of Dance Festival

I'm sitting in a hotel room by the Ontario airport, feeling like there is no possible way I can stay awake for the hour it will take me to get home.

But, the busiest week of the summer is over and now the rest of my life can resume again.

We fell into our beds at 1 am, only to get up at 3:30 am to get Rebi to the airport for Yunasa summer camp with friends she rarely sees from all over the country. She woke me up twice in the night, singing in her sleep.

Apparently, dance festival was a hit. She'd better not still be singing in her sleep when she gets home.

I think I'm going back to sleep for another day or two.

More insanity

For Dance Festival, the 12 and 13 year old boys are dancing to High School Musical, Get Your Head in the Game.
This is a random sampling of the boys. It is representative of all boys this age. . .

So, it was a really great idea to try to teach them to dance and dribble a basketball at the same time. . .

The boys loved it. Every practice, basketballs were thrown, flung, kicked, and lobbed all directions, and women kept yelling, "Boys, Hold your balls!" None of the boys ever laughed at that. . .

And as it turns out, when you combine a google of boys with a google of basketballs, none of the boys hold their balls at all. Rather, they lob them quite firmly at other boys' faces. And, well, balls.

But thankfully, the Dance Festival coordinators took into account how immature a horde of 12 and 13 year old boys can be and gave them costumes that can't be used against them by the other boys. . .

Oh wait. My mistake. They all have elastic waisted shorts on. In that case, hold your balls and let the depantsing begin. . .

Insanity

Albert Einstein once said “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results”.

Which, by definition, makes me insane. This comes as a surprise to exactly no one.

But just to confirm it, today I let Rebi buy another point and shoot camera. Because the destruction of the previous one was so much fun, I'm dying to relive it. Over and over again. Wait. If I expect the same results, am I still insane?

I don't think I want you to answer that. I certainly don't want you to provide examples to prove your point.

Dance Festival

I haven't posted much about dance festival, because it's one of those things that is too big to wrap my brain around. It's 3500+ kids doing 6 or 8 dances. Lots of practices. Lots of mistakes. Lots of funny things, but difficult to condense into a few blog posts.

So, let me share a little bit of what happened last Saturday.

For months, the kids have been practicing here, learning the routines in groups of 50-100, depending on the dance. This week, it was time for them to get together with everyone else dancing their same dance and coordinating all of the formations and such. We did this in Riverside, on a high school field. And it was hot.

They spent the first 2 and 1/2 hours standing on Astroturf trying to figure out the intro dance, and were eventually released to sit with their groups under the shade for some cooling down. As the kids filtered back in, it was clear that Evan was not in good shape. Several of the kids let me know he had a headache, his stomach hurt, and he was looking bad. His arms also hurt from having immunizations the day before. So, we plopped him on the cool grass, soaked his clothes with cold water, and made him start drinking up. Within about an hour, he still had a headache, but his skin was much cooler to the touch and he seemed to be perking back up.

And then he went to the bathroom, which was a couple of blocks away, through the sun.

I found him, slumped against the bathroom wall, out in the sun, pale as a ghost and shaking. I took him to the first aid tent, where they had buckets of ice water, and rags to soak him with.

The first thing they did was stripped him of as much clothing as possible, so there Evan sat, 1500 girls passing by, flexing his abs for all he was worth. Which was good. It told me we didn't need an ambulance or anything. . .

But I did feel it necessary to tell him that if he really wanted to impress the ladies, he should probably think about peeling the matching Tweety Bird band aids off each arm.

Surfing Pics

Serious. And addicted.

What a surfer.

"Maybe I'll wait for the next one. . ."

Paddling out to where the waves were cresting (sadly the other photos of Ellie didn't turn out).

Tyler headed back down the beach to catch some waves.

"Are you sure I can't try? I don't have a cast yet. . . and my butt crack isn't exposed."

Growing Pains

It's rather fun to watch as the kids put lessons I have been teaching them for years to the test with their friends.

I know they don't realize that in helping them deal kindly and appropriately with each other, I am giving them tools for dealing with the outside world. And most of the time, I'm not even sure they are listening to me.

But Rebi has both accepted and given some excellent advice in recent days. She has also navigated a gossip minefield, going straight to the other person involved and setting things right. I would be lying if I didn't say I was relieved. We all know what happens when gossip runs out of control.

For the past two weeks or so, we have been without television of any kind. I told them they could watch TV again if they could go and entire day without fighting. Interestingly, it is taking this long to fully sink in that I mean no bickering at all. And today, one of them said, "This not fighting thing is hard. I'm really working at it!" And they are. And the relative peace is a little slice of Heaven.

Surfing = Torture

Really, after 5 summers of "forced" beach day, I should know better than to expect my kids to jump out of bed and make sure they have everything they need, right? Which should consist of:
1) a swimsuit
2) a towel
3) drinking water
4) lunch
5) shoes

Too much to ask? Apparently, although I would like to be the first to point out that the boogie boards, surf board, and beach chair all made it to the car. Shoes were too much to ask of Nate. Of course, we didn't know that until we got turned away at Denny's for dinner 10 hours later.

And somehow, even though she had her ipod, several magazines, makeup, a brush, and a full change of clothes, Rebi realized after she got done surfing that a towel would have been a nice addition to the party.

And even though I packed the food and drinks and harped on them to get all of their stuff and get in the car, we were still an hour later leaving the house than we had agreed upon. Because Rebi was texting and Ellie was madly folding clothes so that she didn't have to stay home with Dave, Tyler and Evan were playing a game, and Nate was busily burying all of his shoes in the backyard so that I can never force him to wear them ever again. OK, not really, but honestly, it feels that way most days.

And they force me to abuse them all the way to the car because surfing lessons are so evil and mom tortures them so very much to make them go out in the balmy water on a nearly perfect Southern California day, with two teenage boys who exactly fit the surfer profile. Which, of course, is not how they really feel- although I don't think Ty cares much what the boys looked like- and not how they acted once we got there and got surfing.

Sometimes I wonder just how spoiled my kids are around other people. Because I am obviously not instilling a sense of gratitude. I did instill some pretty good exhaustion today. This is the quietest midnight I've heard all summer.

Tyler, no surprise, was a natural, learning to surf on a short board very quickly. Ellie and Rebi were both able to catch some waves and now just need beach time. Just. Getting a hotel room is probably less expensive than driving back and forth to the beach from our house.

Evan's had lessons before so he didn't go out today. And as far as Nate goes, does anyone know what the risk of a broken arm that might need a green non-waterproof cast is as a result of surfing? Until I know that, I really just can't feel that the benefits outweigh the risks.

Escape from Alcatraz

Nate: Mom, do you know that Alcatraz was the hardest jail to escape from? Because it's an island. And sometimes prisoners can't swim so they can't get away. But I could get away. First I would have to get the keys from the guard and I could do that if I knocked him down first. And then I would unlock my cell and get a ladder and climb up over the wall. But I would have to have a boat waiting for me so I could jump off of the wall and right onto the boat and then it could hurry and get me away before they know I'm gone.

Mom: Nate, why are you worried about escaping from Alcatraz.

Nate: Because Mom, you wouldn't want to be in jail. . .

Mom: Well, than maybe it would be easier not to do bad things that might land you in jail?

Speaking of the Therapy Fund

I forgot to blog about this last month, when it happened. Because I was such a well of funny and interesting posts, I didn't have any room to fit it in. . .

While Tyler was at his friend's house, his friend's sister was limping around from an unspecified knee injury. She had seen a couple of different doctors, and no one could tell them why her knee wasn't working. She and her mom (and Tyler) had a little conversation.

Mom: Come here and let me massage your knee. Let's see if we can get it working again
A: Why?
Mom: Because if we don't and your knee doesn't heal, you're going to have to go to physical therapy and it will probably hurt.
Tyler: My mom has a physical therapy fund. She puts money in it for us all of the time.

Hmm. . .close. Very very close.

From the mouth of Nate

Also known as "7 year olds do not appreciate their moms. AT ALL!"

Nate: Mom, your "about me" profile isn't really true anymore."
Mom: Why do you say that?
Nate: Because you don't do the laundry anymore.
Mom: Shut-up, you turd bucket!
Nate: What? You never do laundry anymore!

(How much money should I put in the therapy fund for calling him a turd bucket? How much should I take out to punish him for not noticing me slaving over laundry???)

Consumerism

As a part of a unit study for homeschool, the kids and I started looking at the economics of our nation, and in particular the shift to a consumption based society. It's clear that lifestyle is over for as long as housing markets remain severely depressed, and food prices continue to rise. Even with the government going into debt to send out stimulus checks, there just isn't enough money to fuel a consumer lifestyle right now.

As all of this was beginning, and before I started paying attention to the current events, the kids and I decided we would try to consume less. Less electricity, less junk food, less clothing, less everything, except gas because we are still learning much of our curriculum via field trips and experience.

This is my other blog, dedicated to occasionally writing about the journey. And the truth is, deprogramming is a hard thing. Luckily, I was blessed with a mother who knows a thing or two about avoiding pointless purchases. And, as a result of marathon back-to-school shopping trips as a child, I believe I have been blessed with a life-long loathing for shopping. So, my journey might be easier than others'. But it's still a journey, and one that becomes more necessary with every day.

Feel free to comment about your own experiences weaning off the consumption cycle, or how you really feel about the non-consumption movement. Even dedicated shoppers are welcome here. . .

5 weeks to sanity

So, now that everyone has noticed that I'm *ahem* boring as of late, please allow me to explain.

Summer is totally killing me this year. The teenagers want to go to the pool with this friend and the mall with that friend and the sleepover with another friend. They want to walk to Jamba Juice and look for a few things at Target and PLEASE buy one pair of earrings at any place besides Wal Mart and does Kohl's have a cute top because mine are really wearing out and by the way my church clothes don't fit and I have a dance practice in an town 45 minutes from where we live. And that birthday party is not to be missed and there aren't any decent presents in the birthday drawer and did you remember my gymnastics banquet and WHERE IS MY FLASHLIGHT, I'M LATE FOR CAMP.

And lest you dear reader forgot, I work full time. Or at least I try to work full time because while the teenagers are harping about all of the above stuff, the younger kids are all, I'm bored and I don't want to go to the pool again. Can't we have the TV cord back because we really won't fight anymore and why can't we turn on the air conditioner and please can we just have a water fight and will you fill up 3000 water balloons and store them in strategically placed trash cans all over the neighborhood so that no less than 23 of our closest friends can make a muddy disaster of our front yard? And did we mention that our church clothes don't fit? Neither do our shoes. And then, of course, there's the I'm bored! Come play a game with me and help up put together a 4000 piece puzzle of a polar bear in a blizzard and just one game of Monopoly, even though one of us always quits 1/3 of the way through any given board game leaving the other siblings to complain, whine and throw tantrums and don't we have a church activity today and weren't you supposed to make cookies, and did you forget to wash my swimsuit and why aren't there any clean towels and I hate peanut butter and jelly even though we're taking them to the beach. Can we go to the pool? PLEASE?

And I was supposed to bring two kids for this dentist appointment? Are you sure it wasn't just one? You can fit the one I left home in tomorrow? Great. I guess tomorrow it is. No, I did not forget that doctors appointment. I remembered it 5 minutes after it was too late to get to it, but I certainly did remember it. What is the reminder on my cell phone ringing for now?

So, because I am sleep deprived, 13 loads behind on laundry, everything at work is 3+ weeks past due and there are now 3999 white puzzle pieces spread throughout my living room. And because I have spent well over $400 on gas in the past 4 weeks and for no apparent reason, spending days canning jam was a excellent idea, I am warning you that I may not have my funny back for awhile. I can hardly string 3 words together to make a sentence, let alone a funny sentence. And trust me, I miss my funny every bit as much as I fear the green non-waterproof cast. On his right arm. Not that I'm predicting anything.

Even more, I miss the opportunity to sequester my children in the house for weeks on end because all of their friends are in school and can never socialize due to their volumes of homework. I will continue to post the boring travel logs. And, I hope that a true funny or two pan out before school starts again. But, just in case you are tired of reading about the many things I should not be doing instead of working, I just wanted to give you permission to stop reading for the next 5 weeks or so. I promise, you're really not going to miss anything.

Thank goodness summer is short for everyone else this year!

Crescent Bay Beach

As always, no camera. Someday, I will buy a small one and pictorially document every second of my life. Maybe. Then again, that sounds like a lot of work.

The kids and I, sans Rebi who is at camp, spent today on a very quiet beach in Laguna Beach. And when I say very quiet, I mean it. Even Ellie kept her mouth shut for the first hour we were there because there were no kids under 12 and no one else was talking. Other than my crazies. Have you ever felt the need to shush the children at the beach? Certainly not me. I'm the mom that tells them they can fight all they want at the beach, as long as I can't hear it over the crashing of the surf. I don't take them because I love them, I take them because I need the pounding of the waves to drown out their whining. But with the silence, I was feeling the pressure to place library rules on them.

Luckily, traffic picked up after noon and each of the kids found a friend to hang with. We were also lucky enough to have dolphins swim in and check the kids out- from a distance, but close enough to appreciate. That's the second time this summer, and compared to the "Great JellyFish Attack" of 2006, Ellie is mighty glad it's dolphins.

This beach is also lucky enough to have some really cool tide pools. Starfish, crabs, mussels, hermit crabs, Anemones, and a variety of algae and other unrecognizable growths. Out of all of the tide pools we have seen these past 5 years, these ones were the best. Ons of the kids informed me that it was "too bad it's summer because this would have made a nice field trip."

I quickly replied, "I'm enjoying this field trip quite well, no matter what the season." I do believe they forgot momentarily that they get to learn year round and not just when school is in.

So Mom, get your plane ticket. Laguna Beach is begging you to come explore it.

The Health Benefits of Jam

After constant stirring of 14 batches of jam, I do believe I have increased the muscle mass of both arms. After standing for 9+ hours cooking jam, I can feel the stretch in my hamstrings. And, the beauty of it all is that I fell asleep easily and slept soundly.

The joints didn't flex so well this morning, and even after my double dose of steroids, I still can't move so far off of my couch, but I'm going to be eating jam for months. Nothing but jam for my 3 month of pantry items. . .

Amusingly, I slept so deeply last night, I had several vivid dreams. Most nights, I toss and turn and don't dream at all, so the sleep was nice. The dreams, not so much. I dreamed Nate broke an arm. Must be about time again, eh? He got a green cast and it wasn't waterproof and I had to hear all about it the entire summer. Nightmare!

In the second dream, I was parachuting for the first time with no help. My two buddies had jumped out before me. And the parachute was all messed up. Rather than being frightened, I had an incredible feeling of floating in mid air. Of course, one of my buddies watched me plummet past him and started yelling and I realized I was in big trouble with the parachute. Which is really typical of my life. I think I'm doing just fine until someone points out I have a problem or two. Or ten. But who's counting?

It was just before I hit the Earth with a splat that I woke up and realized I am indeed sore all over. Still, the floating in air leaves me with an amazingly peaceful feeling. Or maybe that's from 6 uninterrupted hours of sleep all at once.

Still Jammin

With the help of a friend, we've canned nearly all of the apricots and some of the plums. We have 25 bottles of jam, currently. And all of them seem to have sealed, which I don't remember from my growing up years. We did can an amazing amount of food back then though.

I find that the full-sugar jams are just too sweet for me, so I am going to do a couple of batches of apricots with the less sugar pectin. In all of the freezer jams I've done, it's never worked right. So, here's hoping! But, our test spoonfuls of the other batches of jam have all looked great.

If I can find more free or inexpensive fruit, I will try my hand at bottling whole fruit and not just jams. I'm still hesitant to bottle the tomatoes when they come in. Because we all know I would be the one to give the family a deadly dose of botulism by not processing the food properly. . .

Jammin

Me, exhausted from a long week? Apparently not, as I was given an opportunity to pick fruit for free today and will now be making jam.

Has anyone ever made green plum jam? How about preserving grapefruit? I haven't googled any of this yet, as I still have to go buy canning equipment.

I never put the cart before the horse or anything. . .