Pictures and More Pictures

Sweet girl.

Emma, like any newborn, has about ten totally involuntary facial expressions per second. I've named some of these expressions. Above is "Disapproving Little Old Lady."

A Papa Joke.

How's Jack doing with this life change? Great! He's fully embraced his new role of Big Brother. A couple of nights ago, Jim, Jack, and I were all in the kitchen. Emma cried out from her bassinet in the livingroom and Jack instantly called out, "I've got it! I've got it!" He gently plugged her pacifier in her mouth and all was well in Emma's world. Jack is a pro.

Our two.

Five More Minutes, Ma...

Emma likes her daytime sleep, it's clear. The fact that she likes her sleep so much makes several tasks a bit of a challenge. Feeding the girl becomes impossible, and showing her sweet little eyes to visitors is obviously difficult if she's bound and determined to snooze. In the first few days of life outside the womb the hospital workers casually say, "Now you need to be waking her every 2-3 hours to eat." I love this piece of advice. It's so much easier said than done. The nurses offer you all the tricks they have up their sleeves when it comes to waking a dreaming infant, but inevitably, you have a baby on which the ordinary waking tricks don't work. Here's a sequence of pictures that show the clumsy and totally ineffective process of trying to rouse Miss Emma.

Emma sleeping.

And thus begin the initial attempts at waking...tickling/brushing the side of a baby's cheek proves to have no effect.

Older brother can't resist a challenge. He chimes in with vocal proddings. "Wake up, Emma!" No dice.

Oh, wait!!! She might be coming around. There's a yawn.

uhhh... no. Emma sleeping.

One Week Old

Emma is officially one week old, and we are getting acquainted with this new little personality... and boy, does she have personality!

Little Emma all the time LOVES to be held, especially by her daddy who is particularly warm and comfortable. If Daddy is not around, she settles by nuzzling a very fuzzy pastel colored blanket that used to be her brother's. I'm sure if she has anything to say about it, it will not be his anymore. Such a little sister already.

Emma sometimes enjoys eating. The "sometimes" is required because this is a puzzle that mom still hasn't quite figured out. Sometimes she eats readily and cooperatively... an angel of a child... peaceful... easy... birds chirp in the background. But it's not these times that are really noteworthy. It's the OTHER times. In order to adequately describe these "other" times, I first must ask if you've seen The Incredibles. If you have, you are familiar with the little baby of the family. Jack-Jack is his name, I think? Anyway he seems, at first, just your average, happy, ordinary, sweet baby. But then... at the climax of the movie he reveals his unique superpower-- a superpower that involves turning into the crazy monster idget child who spontaneously burst into flames, right? It's quite unnerving, really. Well... in connection to Emma's "other" feeding behaviors, I sometimes wonder if she'll burst into flames right in my lap. Pig noises, occasional screaming, and a frantically waving head are involved. Yeah, try to feed that. It's quite unnerving.

Emma never enjoys bathing or getting her diaper changed. Never.

Yes, we are enjoying her little idiosyncracies that make our new little one special. We are in love with Emma.

The standard Emma "burping face." Gotta love that.

Emma Wynne Hoodenpyle

Emma is here, everyone. Here are the fun facts about her:

Birthday: November 30th (We just squeaked in with that November birthday...)

Time of birth: 10:59 p.m. (No kidding... We really just squeaked in!)

Weight: 6 lbs. 9 oz.

Length: 19 in.

Baby girl, Momma, Daddy, and new and official "big brother" are doing just fine. Here are a few pictures that we've collected so far:

Mom and Dad waiting for Emma's big arrival at the hospital

A beautiful girl

I wonder how many times Jim and I will turn to each other and say, "We have two kids now!"

Update

Ultrasound at 36 weeks - two weeks ago...

(She looks scrunched, doesn't she? I'm putting up an eviction notice soon.)

I'm starting to field the emails now, so I see I need to add an update to this blog. The doctor says I'm still pregnant. The torso grows ever-massive... but no.. no baby. Not yet. She's bound to keep us waiting.

These are the lessons I'm learning from Emma:

1. No child is the same. And just because one baby comes early, does NOT mean they all will. The ladies/moms have been telling me this since day one around here. Prior to this week, I thought I was solidly aware of this fact. But it's been reinforced in my head as there is no sign of Emma's impending arrival. Jack came early, and I was happy as a clam to see him. Emma has watched the deadline for Jack's gestational term come and go. In fact, I think I can feel her thumbs twiddling and feel the vibration of her giggles as she waits it out, warm and cozy. She seems quite comfortable with protruding elbows and knees sometimes causing my abdomen to appear deformed and lopsided at times. Come on, girl. It's surely getting crowded in there. Let's get this show on the road.

2. Old wives' tales are a bunch of hullabaloo: Treadmills/brisk walks don't work. Spicy food does not bring on labor. A little dilation doesn't mean a darn thing. And alternating between scolding and begging a baby while she's inside your womb is pointless.

3. Anxious siblings can't really help. No matter the amount of conviction in Jack's voice, his pointing of a light-up wand at my stomach and chanting, "Abracadabra... Come out, Emma!" is cute but not really substantial.

4. Births during full moons are purely coincidental. The moon is now waning and I'm still having to roll out of bed in the mornings.

I'll keep you posted.

Big Whitney

Marathon!

Jim participated in the Bass Pro Shops Outdoor Fitness Festival Marathon yesterday here in Springfield. Translation: Jim is crazy. It's okay to shake your head with me. He won't see.

Despite my realization that I've gone and married a slightly deranged person, I won't hide a hefty amount of pride here too. He ran for four hours and 1 minute, and he still looked pretty strong at the end. He was slightly immobile and definitely requiring me to drive the truck home, but he did this thing. A marathon! Don't get the story from Jim, because he'll relay it while kicking the dirt about the extra one minute that put him over his "sub four hour" goal. Get the story from me and we can, together, totally bypass his downplaying of the accomplishment. He RAN for FOUR HOURS and ONE MINUTE! Woah. Just typing the sentence wears me out.

Here are a few less-than-great pictures. My job was hat-holder, energy gel passer, and chapstick stand-by person. Breathtaking photography sometimes gets sacrificed.

Jack and Grammie watch for any sign of Daddy rounding the corner

Here he comes!

There he goes!

Halloween's Almost Here!

The little boy who lives at our house is excited about Halloween! In anticipation of the event, he has asked, "When are we going to carve our pumpkin?" for the last three weeks. And occasionally, he bargains to wear his Halloween costume around the house for "just a few minutes." A few minutes is apparently long enough to curb some of the agony in waiting for the actual day to arrive.

But at last... the waiting is almost over. We carved the jack-o-lantern on Friday! (I say "we", but really, it was totally a Mom and Dad event. Jack refuses to touch, or even get near, any of the gooey insides of the pumpkin each year. It's "gross." Oh brother.)

Here's a little something to curb your agony in waiting. Pictures!

Tarantula Tuesday

What bigtime, yet strangely ordinary, news spreads through an entire school building faster than does the flu? Any phrase that sounds even remotely close to "TARANTULA ON THE PLAYGROUND!"

So, a bit of Missouri trivia... did you know that tarantulas are native to the state? I didn't. I've spent the majority of my life here, and I had no clue about this fact. I thought I was living on the edge of danger just dealing with rumors of scorpions and the recent influx of those blasted migratory Japanese beetles. During my Florida days, it was impossible to be unaware of the inflated palmetto bug (a.k.a. fluttering-from-the-trees, big toe-sized cockroach) population. But tarantulas in Missouri? I am shocked.

Apparently, it is common knowledge. Grandpa reports having had a mother (infested with catch-a-ride babies) in his backyard workshop. The school custodian reports that they can jump up to three feet, and he remembers them being a commonplace nuisance at his childhood ball field. A student's parent says, "Oh yeah! I dodged one in the middle of the road while riding my bicycle the other day." Even my own son belittles me, "Moooom. They HAVE eight legs." (His two cents were slightly less impactful, true.)

Whaaa? Where have I been? I don't hide my dismay at these reports, and in return, I get this shocked and then immediately consoling look like, "You didn't know? Whitneeey.... it's okay that you're an idiot." Hmph... Tarantulas are odd and scary, and certainly odd/scary for Missouri. If one was crawling across your kitchen tile, would you yawn? I don't think so.

The "TARANTULA ON THE PLAYGROUND!" gossip was like wildfire through the hallways. I caught wind of it at lunchtime as three teachers could barely get out the words in all the excitement. (On a side note, if everybody was SO aware of this "tarantulas in MO" business... why the hub-bub, people?)

Apparently, it went down like this. The tarantula was spotted on the concrete just outside the playground doors.... you know, local hang out spot for your everyday Ozarks tarantula. The kids freaked. I don't know why. We have ladybugs too... they don't send anybody into a frenzy. C'mon. The principal then came out to catch it. There was some squealing.

In the end, the capture was successful. The beast is now caged in a transparent "bug box" and is scheduled for a tour of each classroom, one by one, so that we may marvel. Oddly enough, some students in my classroom will not remove their jacket hoods from their heads.

This is sooo normal.

I Don't Know What To Say...

What clever words can I write down beside the following link? There are none. Jim made me this as an anniversary present. He has been working on it for hours, and hours, and hours over the past month.

And still, the morning after its unveiling (during which he sat me down in front of our livingroom DVD player) I remain numb, tearjerked, and appreciatively quiet. You will understand when you watch. (Approximately 13 minutes long with accompanying sound... Password: hoodenpyle)

Alright then, judge the book. Whatever...

Notice the two children above. Elementary school teachers (not me, of course, but my colleagues) are sometimes guilty of "photo previewing" regarding their students. This happens in the summertime when one receives his or her list of students. You grab last year's yearbook and see what faces match these names you've just been handed. Some look like angels. You want to pinch their cheeks and scoop them up right then and there. "Oh! Now he/she looks sweet. I bet they're a good kid. Look at the smile." But just as you have these, you see some faces that fill you with a foreboding feeling. Hair covering the eyes, hunched posture, mohawks, excessive chainwear, an almost visible stamping of the word "HYPER" across the forehead, any type of snarling... all of these make you wonder. Is this kid going to make, or break, my year?

Now that's not to say that first impressions can't be wrong. There is a saying, "Don't judge a book..." So yeah, photo previewing is nothing more than a superstitious act that has minimal chances of actually producing accurate information. But still.... my colleagues do it. Not me, of course, though.

Anyway, in comparing the two children above, one would be an angel. One would be deemed a "possible turkey". Because I don't believe in the labeling, I'll not participate in this ritual of yours. But you go on ahead. You're wasting your time, you know.

Hodge Podge Entry

I'm a little bit all over the place in my conversation today. You'll see what I mean. Maybe it's because I'm the only company I have, and my mind is wandering. Jim is off in Joplin riding the MS 150, Jack is at Grandma's, and I'm grading papers to music. Speaking of music...

When I'm alone and relaxing, I find myself cranking the radio or picking up the mp3 player. It's a habit. A natural thing happens next... a retreat back into Whitney. The week has been busy, but I've discovered that when the music of my choosing plays, I go off someplace and feel instantly more like myself, regaining what the week may have stripped of me. I can grade papers mindlessly, but my head seems to travel. In this way, I still can turn into the teenager that closes her door and plays her music reclusively. But anyway... how am I feeling today? Where's my head going? Like I said, all over the place. My favorite artists today:

1. Ben Folds

I didn't really know what I was missing with these guys until a summer concert (in which they were the special guest opener) made me more familiar with their music. These are the people you were friends with back in high school or college - your eccentric, opinionated, charismatic, and hilarious little circle of comfort. (I feel very affectionate about my own little high school/college circle in Tallahassee. I even ponder Jim's college gang... his band of guy friends felt much like mine. Consequently, I wonder if everyone has this "so odd they're cool" collection of friends at a certain point in their lives.)

Anyway, Ben Folds was number one on my list this weekend. Their self-proclaimed "piano rock" is satirical, smart, and intensely musical. They were most entertaining live in concert, and now that I've returned to them this weekend, they are just as fun. Note: They use profanity generously from time to time, but you get past it when you realize that it comes from somewhere intelligent and efficiently delivers just the right sarcastic message. On my songlist: All You Can Eat, Gone, Bitches Ain't Right, Trusted, Landed, Bastard. There is a funny concert story about one of these foul language loaded songs and the fast-handed interpreter for the hearing-impaired, stage-right that did her job with gusto. Perhaps the song was selected on purpose by these guys that night. Pure speculation. But in any case, they really DO have sign language gestures for all words, it seems.

2. a blend of Colbie Callait, Corinne Bailey Rae, and Jack Johnson

Why a blend? Because my brain categorizes them collectively into one file as they all make me feel the same way... quiet and thoughtful. On my songlist: Bubbly, Like a Star, Till It Happens To You, Questions

3. White Stripes

I'll speak truthfully and say that, ordinarily, I despise this group and all the music it produces. However, there is one song that makes me smile: We're Going To Be Friends.
This song has a perfect back to school, autumny feel to it. (It was "that song" from Napoleon Dynamite also, but that's beside the point.) It's a sweet little song if you really listen to the words. In fact, I'm chuckling as I'm listening to it now and grading papers. The song reminds me of my favorite "type" of kid to have in class. Today, it's Taylor, a good little boy who's quiet, but not too quiet. He apparently has a special sense of humor and knows to share it only at the perfect moment so that you have no choice other than to appreciate it so much more. On a worksheet where he is required to complete the sentence with simply a noun, he says:

Some students played a game of "toss the propane tank out of the window." (I'm laughing so hard that I can't breathe.) Of course, he just needed a noun, so I'll speak to him Monday...

Other thoughts:

I believe I should be getting some royalties from the game, "Twister Scram." Seriously, Milton Bradley owes me some money. I believe that I invented this game on Gelven street in my front yard when I was nine. The only difference was that I used my collection of a gazillion pom-poms rather than the colored Twister circles. On someone's mark, we'd have to "scram" to another colored pom-pom... for an added challenge, you needed to reach a certain color to be safe. Now, I've not checked the EXACT rules of Twister Scram, but the picture on the box leads me to believe that I was onto something. Come on, Mom. Surely you watched out the front window back then and can back me up here..

Additional News:

I have a new car! I've never had a new car before, so this is a big deal. I enjoy the new car smell that doesn't come from a spray at the local car wash. It naturally smells dreamy, clean, and luxurious. My Jeep was going down the drain, so we've purchased a Ford Escape. It's similar in size and shape. When I get a moment, I'll post a picture of mine. For now, a dealer's picture will have to do.

Tour of Missouri

Jim is a big fan of cycling. BIG fan. Each summer we watch the unfolding of the Tour de France, and we scream and yell for our favorites on the Discovery Channel team. Lance Armstrong was/is a big idol for Jim. I, too, enjoyed watching him very much. But then again, I find a pattern in my "fan habits" when it comes to sports... I like watching a team/athlete who causes me to feel little suspense/drama while they are engaged in competition. I like gaping margins of victory... there's no stress and wringing of the hands there. Jim is different. Jim is loyally devout in his fanhood whether the athletic performance is sparkling or downright dejecting. He was a fan of Lance... the obvious and easy athlete for whom one would choose to clap. On the other hand, Jim sticks by FSU football... watching, still, with his back off of the chair at times while I have long since left the room to fold clothes in disgust.

The Discovery channel team has remained intact, up until now, since Lance Armstrong's retirement from the sport of cycling. Jim, predictably, has stayed loyal. There are still some key figures on the team that he adores: George Hincapie, Popovych, etc. Upon Lance's exit, some new key figures entered into Jim's fancy as well: Levi Leipheimer, Contador, etc. Maybe these people have even inspired some of Jim's own success in the sport lately.

The Tour of Missouri, a new cycling event, has come to our neck of the state. Sure, it's been on the news, and people are talking about it. But for Jim.... this is THE event. A chance of a lifetime to see a peloton composed of famous, professional cyclists blowing your hair back as you stand watching from the curb. Today was the day The Tour of Missouri pedaled southward to Springfield. My husband was ready. While standing at the ironing board this morning, I listened as Jim pondered, "I know it most likely will never happen, but let's just say I get the chance to have a conversation with George." I smiled to myself, hoping he wasn't setting himself up for disappointment. I guess my silence wasn't satisfying enough because he went further, "I mean, what if you got the chance to speak to John Mayer. What do you say?" Good question there. What do you say? I just offered a supportive, "I don't know, Babe. I would just stutter, I guess." I said good-bye to Jim this morning and saw that he must have still been thinking about the possibilities... he had that floaty, starry-eyed look about him.

Three texts came to my cell phone today. Each was more exclamatory than the previous message. You can imagine their subjects as you view the following pictures. My goodness! How fun for my Jim.

Popo's bike!!!

Jim holds the camera high to snap a photo of a Leipheimer interview

Inches from Contador, 2007 Tour de France winner

A great view of the bell lap... Hincapie in second at the moment

Hincapie on the podium as he is awarded the yellow jersey

Jim sits and casually chats with George - winner of the day's stage

Who would've thought?

No Longer in a Pickle?

Thanks to all who've been concerned, really and truly... Pickle, surprisingly enough, is doing quite well! You can tell from the previous post that my hopes for her survival were very slim. In a way, that was my goodbye. But Pickle always has been pretty scrappy... I should've known not to give up on her so quickly. Thanks to the calm logic of Jim. I am so grateful that he called off an impending final veterinary visit, and said... "let's just see what happens."

Her progress has been astounding:

*She is now breathing easily again... not gasping for oxygen... nor hacking, coughing, spitting, straining, etc.

*She has emerged from the shower... huddling in the shower being a very strange uncatlike behavior that surely suggested I would come home and find her unresponsive, though soggy, one day.

*She is minus a considerable percentage of body weight. Does she look sickly and bony? No way... she now looks normal.

*She has resumed eating and drinking. Consequently, she again has cause to use the litterbox. (She has not yet, however, resumed the cleaning of the hind end after said use of the litterbox.... baby steps, baby steps.)

*She does not throw up three times a day. She never did do this, even on the brink of seeming death - it's just my chance to send a sideways glare toward Cookie.

*She has returned to the nightly positioning of herself in the crook of my arm. Glad to have her back.

Dear Pickle

One of the hardest things about having pets and really loving them is the realization that they, just like people, can get sick and not stay around forever. And so it goes with Pickle. She has been my very first cat.

Sure, I've always had cats growing up, so it does seem odd for me to say that. There was Ming, Tyler, Chuck, Caesar, and then even Miss Kitty. But when I really stop and think about it, these animals ended up being more of my "sibling figures" than my pets. I was the older sister who mostly loved them but occasionally pestered the tar out of them when the mood struck her. (One day I'll have to ask Mom for the photo of one Siamese Tyler adorned with an embarrassing amount of hair scrunchies on his ears and paws. This would've been what I've always imagined to be an annoying older sister moment.)

One day I grew up, got married, and inherited a black cat named Cookie. I loved her (and love her still) but she was, again, not really mine. A few winters later, Jim brought home a little, orange, and wild ball of nerves in a cardboard box. She was scared, starving, and frostbitten at that time and still very much in survival mode. Back in college I'd decided that one day I'd have a son named Jack and a cat named Pickle... so you can imagine, her name was easily bestowed. Welcome home, little cat. And again, I'll stick to that earlier statement: Pickle has been my first cat-- mine, and mine alone.

She can't be more than eight years old, and although it's been a rather short "cat life," I'm glad she's spent her time with me. Thank you, Pickle J, for loving me the most and letting me love you too. In the coming days, when you see a little white dog named Millie, bite her on the bottom. It'll be a fun game, I bet.

Days at Disney

This weekend brings us safely back from Orlando, FL where the Hoodenpyles experienced bigtime fun at Disney World. While visiting, we stayed at the Disney All-Star Movies resort and overdosed heavily on all things 101 Dalmatians -- the theme of our building. Riding the buses and/or monorail was great fun for Jack and, in hindsight, could've almost been passed off as yet another "ride" during our stay. The trip all-around was so much fun.

During our 4 and a half day stay at Disney World, we were able to experience three parks: the Magic Kingdom (two days), Animal Kingdom, and MGM studios. The natural favorite was the Magic Kingdom where Jim emerged as a master of the FastPass feature. Purely for our own entertainment, Jim and I would make frequent points to stop and ask Jack, "What have you liked the best?" at various times of the day(s). He was always consistently dependable with his answer in that he would list whatever attraction we had just visited in the last five minutes. He did them all, even the ones that required him to be "super brave," as he put it. Splash Mountain, Big Thunder Mountain, and even MGM's Tower of Terror were big hits with Daddy alongside him. I think he would have enjoyed Space Mountain had he only been two inches taller to meet the 44 inch height requirement. Oh well. He says he'll do that one "when he's five."

Jim and I both think it's funny that the biggest hit for Jack was the Tomorrowland Transit Authority (or what Jim and I have always known to be the "People Mover") in the Magic Kingdom. Why are we surprised? I have no idea. We must've ridden it a dozen times as the escalator leading up to/down from and the moving platform that one had to negotiate while boarding a car (and preferably the front car) only sustained Jack's fun.

Jack is pictured here on the People Mover... again.

We were lucky enough to be pulled out of It's a Small World's line as "special guests" of the attraction. Here are Jack and I up in the control booth.

Above, Jim and Jack are displayed onscreen at the Monsters, Inc. Laugh Floor attraction. This was an interactive "show" where a few of the audience members are selected to participate in the jokes. It was a great surprise for Jack to see himself on "tv."

This is how each day of fun ended... a satiated Jack... passing out.

No Longer an "It"

It's a big milestone you've reached when you can stop calling your baby "it" and more comfortably fall into the habits of "he, she, him, or her" following a sneak preview with an ultrasound machine. Our milestone was reached yesterday! Disclaimer: If you do not want to know what the baby's sex is, do not read further because I'm about to blab. The very nice woman who ran the baby show yesterday displayed all the parts of our little baby, saying all looked good. I'm now posting my very favorite of the pictures we were given. Here you'll see the partial profile of a bashful little baby, hiding behind her little hands. So sweet.

How Was Your Summer?

The summer has been good to us here at the Hoodenpyle house. Lots of activity and lots of naps have made the time fly by. And while summer is not yet officially over, it's beginning to feel like it. I've been back at work for two days straight trying to get my head back in work mode, and August is looming. Once August hits, it's just over, people. The arrival of August 1st gives the exact same feeling that Sunday yields prior to a work week.

Anyway, every year when I go back to work and see the people I haven't seen in a couple of months, I'm asked, "How was your summer? What did you do?" I'll practice my answer on you people before I am officially asked next month. Here are a few of the highlights:

1. Jim, Jack, and I traveled to Des Moines, IA to see a World Cup triathlon. Jim was thrilled to spectate and see how the pros do it. Just a couple of days ago, they aired this triathlon on television, and the Hoodenpyle boys made it onto tv. Jack liked seeing himself up on Daddy's shoulders via our livingroom screen.

2. We went to two, count 'em two, consecutive John Mayer concerts. They were each a unique and FUN experience, but John was equally dreamy during the two events. I can say that I have stood seven feet away from him!!! (You know that satisfied sound that Homer Simpson makes when he's thinking of a donut?)

3. I successfully navigated the truck, by myself, through downtown KC without having a "major" meltdown... Thanks for your extraordinary patience, Husband.

4. Jim has competed in two triathlons, himself, this summer. He makes us all so proud... that is, after we get through contemplating why ANYONE would WANT to do this sport. Most recently, he was the top finisher in his age group at the Lake Freebird triathlon in Mountain Grove. He has an apparent knack for the "sprint" length triathlons but wishes to be more competitive in the longer triathlons that are the "Olympic" length. I don't know if I'm saying that correctly.

At left, Jim keeps his sense of humor through a long, hilly run.

5. I hosted a garage sale at my house. Other contributors were Jim's parents and my two friends from work, Terri and Danavee. We made bigtime bucks and had fun, fun, fun. Garage sale tidbits: Neon orange posterboard is the only acceptable media for signage. Also, artificial ficus trees will go for $5.... just wait it out.

6. Jack is becoming braver and braver at the neighborhood pool. He has been much like his mother when it comes to swimming as a child. Here is what I imagine his water policy to be: "Floaties are really a must. But when you do find yourself without a floatie, monkey grip the neck of whatever adult is nearest to you, totally disregarding if you repeatedly kick them in the gut while flailing."

During this summer we have visited the pool several times per week, and he's getting more and more comfortable. Just last week, he went under the water, voluntarily, several times in a row. He was very proud and happy!

7. Jim and Jack have enjoyed a new tandem bike purchase. It's quite a contraption! Jack sits on half a bike that clamps onto Jim's, and they're off! I can barely keep up, really.

Upcoming events: Baby ultrasound tomorrow. If stubborn legs aren't crossed, maybe I'll have some boy/girl news for you readers. (I think we've actually AGREED upon a girl name. For those of you that don't know... that's huge. Jim has mastered the vetoing of baby names. haha)

Jim will be competing in two more triathlons. And also, we go to Walt Disney World during the first week of August. Woo-hoo! Jack is excited to once again travel by airplane. It should be fun.

Ebay! What fun!

I've really only had one experience with Ebay in my life, and it wasn't a good one. I bought some tickets as a surprise to Jim for our anniversary one year. I was tickled to be the "winner" of the auction. I won in the final seconds with quick bidding fingers, and it felt great. But then, the high was completely ruined when the seller ended up giving me the runaround, and in order to actually receive the tickets that I had purchased, I had threaten the guy just short of his life. He finally responded after receiving my sternly written letter (which "appeared" to have been copied to one local lawyer... thaaaat I'd plunked out of the phone book) via certified mail. I slung him some bad feedback and began the process of reporting him to whatever Ebay authorities existed at the time.

But finally just a couple of days before the event, tickets arrived in my mailbox. I don't say "my tickets" arrived... just tickets. These were evidently replacements for the ones he said I was buying. (Different seats. Different section. But at least the same venue.) I called off the dogs, and Jim and I attended the event. A fun time was had although I'd pretty much sworn off any further use of Ebay. Well, that is... until now.

This time, I was the seller. And I must say that being a seller is MUCH more fun than being a buyer. We, ironically, have some extra tickets to see a concert. Jim purchased these in an auction format, and in doing his best to get me as close to the stage as possible, he purchased extra. Good guy, and very sweet, but an expensive venture, of course. So now, we had extra tickets. None of our acquaintances wanted them, so with a sinking feeling, we knew we'd have to return to Ebay. Argh.

I posted two sets of tickets to our event on Ebay just days ago. Since then, I have been logging on and evaluating my competition, checking to see how many hits my posts are receiving, and getting excited to see the number of "watchers" of my items grow. This is a fun game. Although no bidding is going on, you can "see" people taking interest in your item. They want it, but they pretend not to. It's somewhat like playing with a cat. Your cat sits on the floor at the edge of the couch with only her big eyes peeking over. You wiggle your fingertip at the edge of the couch, but not too much... just enough to make her pupils get bigger, her head lower, and her ears flatten. Then, you don't move.... If you wait, the pounce will come. If you get anxious, the cat will lose interest and perhaps give you a yawn, at best.

Anyway, I celebrated my official "pounce" today. One set of tickets sold. Hooray! What fun!
Now.... to see who's looking at the other pair. I've wiggled my finger. We'll see.

New Sweatbands

I saw a funny sight out of the corner of my eye last week when I picked up Jack from great grandma's house. Grandpa had lowered the old basketball goal down as far as it could go, and there was Jack, shootin' hoops. He was shooting in a way that my own father, once upon a time, referred to as "granny style". Just like Jack, as a little, little kid, I also found that bending over and shooting from in between spread eagle legs produced a much more frequent rate of accuracy. My father also called this the "sissy panties" way... but whatever, Dad. It worked. It didn't really matter anyway as I grew older and became officially short, and therefore, not cut out for basketball.

I've gotten sidetracked. On with the story. As I pulled up to the drive, I did notice his preference for granny style shooting and even saw him make a basket. Good job, Jack! But what was really funny was that he was all decked out on the court with sweatbands. They were white ones, emblazoned with orange embroidered NBA insignia. This was obviously a serious basketball practice. I got out of the car with my hand across my mouth, hiding my laughter at his Globetrotter-like appearance. He immediately began to inform me of the advantages of wearing such gear. "I can't feel my sweat, Mom! I'm wearing my sweatbands." He modeled the one on each wrist, and then finished with a swirling hand motion across his forehead to draw my attention there. Of course he had to wear these on the ride home. I wouldn't have even thought of asking him to remove them. He was proud.

Later in the evening, he was still wearing them. He wore them to ride on his battery powered John Deere tractor for quite some time. Neighbors who walked by commented and complimented his new look. "Oh, look at his sweatbands!" they exclaimed. (You can tell people don't wear these things anymore by the reactions they provoke. "Sweatbands! Look, he's wearing sweatbands." I imagine it would be the equivalent of me wearing leg warmers around the mall one day. Purple ones, maybe.)

And then, we cooked dinner. Jack has never been one to help cook dinner. The stove gets turned on, the pot begins to steam, and he's out of there! He's not a fan of "hot." But, remember TODAY he had on his NBA sweatbands. He stirred the noodles quite helpfully and said, "Mom, I don't even feel the hot on my head today." He did one more swirling motion across the forehead with his hand and flashed me a grin. I sure do love this kid.

Spring School Picture

At Jack's school there is the standard yearbook photograph that is taken in the fall. I was pretty pleased with his first set. A good natural smile and a confirmation that blue looks great on the kid. When spring comes around, a weird thing happens though... yet another picture package is sent home with folks. It caught me off guard the first year that I taught in the district. And now that I have a school aged child, myself, it caught me off guard in a whole new kind of way. (As did the placement of his mug in the very same yearbook that my always-crappy-teacher-photo appears every year... weird.)

Anyway, I'm still not entirely used to this idea of a "spring picture." I never had such a thing as a child. You said "cheese" once a year... period. To top it off, this particular round of photographing comes with a pseudo background, full body poses, and yes.... props. One year, I remember the boys snickering in line as the girls held a terrible bouquet of fake flowers next to their thoughtfully tilted chins. I took pity on their mothers and ripped the flowers out of their hands when it was their turn to pose and take advantage of a bad joke. Secretly, I appreciated their senses of humor, but really.... come on, boys.

Jack's spring picture arrived at home about a week ago. I'll let you take a look. My judgement? I think I'll avoid the plaid next time, but thank goodness there are no fake flowers in sight. Phew.

The Westminster Alumni Triathlon

This past weekend was "Alumni Weekend" at Westminster College where Jim went to school in Fulton, Missouri. He was very excited to find out, some months ago, that a triathlon for students, faculty, and alumni would be hosted on campus during this particular weekend. It would be a low-key and fun practice event for the upcoming, and more competitive triathlons in which he has planned to participate later this season.

We were so pleased that our usual crew of observers were able to attend the event. Jim's mom and dad, his sister and her kids, and Chris were all there and cheering. Even some new spectators were in attendance! These included Josh and Mark, two of Jim's close college friends. It was beautiful weather for the event, and although Jim got off to a rocky start with some pre-race tire troubles, it was a great day. (It is safe to say that the air pump will never be forgotten back in the hotel room again.)

What is the most fun to report is that Jim was announced as the overall winner of the event with a finishing time of 1 hour, 11 minutes! We were all so proud of him. On a side note, these triathlons are famous for dishing out the heavy duty and expensive prizes, and this one was no exception. His winnings included a towel, a sports water bottle, and a gift certificate. These prizes clearly beat out any previous tokens he's collected in the past as a participant, including all the coffee cups and pairs of socks. We were raking it in. The real prize, of course, is the joy of competing, but that lessens the impact of my sarcasm, doesn't it?

Congrats to a speedy Jim. "Go Daddy, Go!" indeed.

Above, Jim rounds the corner on the bike, preparing to dismount and head to the transition area prior to his running portion of the race.

Nearing the end of the run, Jim is still looking strong. How annoying is this black speck at right that's apparently deep inside my camera lens? Let's name the speck, "Walter."

Jim looks triumphant after the finish. Walter looks smug.

Jack particularly enjoys the triathlon experience, as it provides the occasional opportunity to make playmates of his cousins. Below, Jack, Maria (left), and Cecilia (right) play around sections of the Berlin Wall as they are on permanent display at the Westminster campus where Winston Churchill once delivered a well known speech.