For Those Days When You Wish You Were Renting

I know there are times when every home owner wishes they were renting.  This post is for those people.  The next time you find yourself replacing the air conditioning/water heater/driveway/whatever, think back to this post and remember: this will never happen to you.  And be grateful.

Here is what our new door looks like (in "bad" (good for me) weather/lighting).

Note the doormat, which does not say "DOMOWA"

You can also see the large "3" placed too high.  And crooked.  But we didn't expect much more of the guys who put the door in.  What really surprised us was the handle.

Now, I'm not saying that it's ugly (saying being the operative word, because that happens to be exactly what I'm thinking).  I'm only saying that I wonder who picked out this handle.  That's all I'm saying.

It's metal.  It's aaaaa....n interesting design.  And it's huge.  To put it in perspective let's compare it to a hand that uses it regularly.

Now, this hand, while certainly having proportionally larger proximal interphalangeal joints* than many other hands, is no smaller, in a general way, than regular-people hands.

It is a large and mysterious handle.  And if you own your home, you are unlikely for THAT to be the first thing that greets your friends and neighbors.  I mean, it wouldn't be if you didn't like it.  And that's why you should be happy you own your home.  THE reason. (Well, that and the option to hang your own house number properly.)

*Yes, I looked that joint thing up.  But see how smart I'm getting!?!  For those of you not in a position to smarten up at such an amazing rate as myself, you may refer to the joints as PIP joints.  The website I found it on says so.

Better Food, Cleaner Dishes and No Spiders

We sort of have this thing about appliances around here.  Way back at the very dawning of this blog I wrote a post about our hunt for, and purchase of, a washing machine.  It tells the tale of our complete ignorance and relative incompetence when it comes to making an educated purchase of such contraptions.

But it's not the issue of having to choose one that keeps us from buying a dishwasher or microwave.  Money isn't the problem, either (because we have bags of money in the basement waiting for us to decide what to spend it on)  (don't tell the neighbors).  No, we are just prejudiced against these appliances.

I don't like food out of the microwave.  As a little girl my best friend had a microwave WAY before the rest of the world did and we would stick a piece of Wonder bread in there and relish each bite of the steaming, rubbery, food-like substance that came out 15 seconds later.  But I seem to have outgrown rubbery food and become a disliker of slimy cheese.

I like my cheese crispy.  I like my hot-dogs browned (and un-exploded).  I like my frozen dinners -- I don't like my frozen dinners.  Everything a microwave can do, a stove-top or oven can do better, in my opinion (except soften butter).  So we haven't had a microwave for 11 years.

Greg is strongly averse to dishwashers.  "They don't work well", he says.  "They're not worth the trouble" he says.  And I take his word for it about not being worth the trouble because he's something of an expert, since he washes about !% of the dirty dishes around here.  So, we don't have a dishwasher (actually we do in the downstairs kitchen but we've never used it).

We also don't have a drier, but that's more for reasons of nobody-in-Europe-has-a-drier.  Plus 11 years of not using one has made me a little afraid of them (although I miss them dearly at the same time).

In conclusion, the other morning Evie came into my room and told me there was a spider.  I stepped out of my bedroom and found this waiting to jump down on the next person who dared descend the stairs below him:

For comparison, the light underneath is about as long as my humerus.  (I always give measurements in bone lengths)  (especially while talking about spider size around Halloween)  This guy was definitely bigger than my patella.  (glad he never got anywhere near my patella, though, let me tell you!)

It was no problem though, because Greg came out and sucked him up with the vacuum.  Because we HAVE a vacuum.  We are, in fact, firm believers in the vacuum cleaner.

"Please Refrain. . .

. . . from using profanity while I'm in the vicinity."

My sister, Anne, and I were probably 13 and 14 years old and at the height of our cleverness when we came up with that little gem. What a perfectly polite and intelligent way to let those around us know our tender ears were being defiled by their undiscriminating vocabulary. I'm not sure we ever actually used it, though neither of us was reticent when it came to making our displeasure at the sound of foul language known to those who used it.

On one of our trips to Disneyland we heard some profanity and lots and lots of "Remain seated please. Permanecer sentado por favor", which was our inspiration for a little addition to our catch phrase, "Please refrain from using profanity while I am in the vicinity. Exit to your left and thank you for your support."

Oh, my. It really is a wonder we had any friends given our level of dorkiness. Sure we didn't actually say this to anyone but the very fact that our brains came up with it and we thought it was awesome are clear evidences that we probably did not deserve any.

Once in my 10th grade Spanish class we were taking turns reading some dialogue. When it came to me, instead of "Dios mio!" I said "Ay, caramba!" My teacher did not appreciate it and asked why I could not just read the text as it was printed. There is a slight chance that I was one of the few who understood her extremely dry and harsh sense of humor and the only one who responded with sarcasm, so she did not especially like me. When this incident happened I explained that I do not take the Lord's name in vain. She assured me that this is perfectly acceptable in Spanish. I assured her that I would not say it in any language. She stared at me in silence for a long while before moving on.

I grew up in a home where there was very, very little swearing. I remember running to my parents and tattling that one of my older brothers had said the f-word. My dad asked what he said, and I whispered in his ear, "fagot".

When my mother was at her whit's end she would say things like, "Oh, fiddlesticks!" or, on a really bad day, "Dang, dang, double dang!" I believe my dad swore on the very, very rare occasions he got really angry.

I remember the first time I ever swore when I was about 13. I had a friend who used mild swear words occasionally. She was at my house and we were sitting there chatting and I said, "What the he**" in the conversation. I stopped suddenly, in shock. My friend laughed and told me it was okay! I... started crying and never swore again until after I had children. (no more about that later)

So the concept of using bad language just to color your normal sentences is one I don't get. It seems so very jr.high and high school to me. Some of my old friends from high school still use language like that occasionally on facebook and I feel like, "did you never grow up?" The answer, of course, is "no". I mean, the answer is that they just live in a different world than I do. And also a different country.

And speaking of which: I love living in Poland. I never hear any swearing here at all. This is not because this is the only country in the world that doesn't have or use swear words, but because I don't know any of them. The only way I ever know that someone is using bad language is when my husband or children say something about it.

Teenagers over here live in the same world as teenagers (and former teenagers who became adults and still use obscene language all the time) in America . We were reminded of this one day when Greg was planning to wait in the cafe area of our grocery store while I did the shopping. As always, there was a group of teenage boys hanging out and being extremely cool. Their language was awful. Greg sat there for awhile and then told me that he could not stand it. I told him I was sorry for him and left to shop.

Forty-five minutes later I paid for the food, returned to the cafe area with my loaded cart and saw that the boys were just leaving the area. As they walked past Greg they gave him the "sup?" head tilt (what do you call that?) I asked him what in the world had happened.

He told me that one kid saw him looking at them in disgust and the kid asked Greg if he had a problem. Greg asked him if they had to use that kind of language. The kid was insolent. Greg explained that some people simply do not want to hear that kind of talk. The kid said that it doesn't bother them. Greg explained that he was sure it didn't but that it did bother many of the people who had to listen to it. It was as if this kid had never heard such a crazy thing.

The boys kept cussing but had somehow come to respect Greg for expressing his difference of opinion. They seemed to understand that he was living on a different planet than them and could respect his alien culture. Not enough to give up their swearing for a few minutes, but still.

Some Teachers Just Need To Retire: A Rant

I know that teachers in Poland have different background and theories than those I grew up with. They don't seem to understand the basics of positive reinforcement and the self-fulfilling prophecy etc. I also remember that when David chose to go to a costume party in Kindergarten dressed as a bum (thought of it on his own) his teacher told him it was an ugly costume and she didn't like it (can't really blame her but she didn't have to say it in front of the class - or at all). So I really should not be surprised by his current teacher (that he has grades 1-3 with).

Last year before an evening costume party/dance the school was holding he agonized forever about what to go as. People would make fun of the "muscles" in his Spiderman costume, the Batman costume was too small etc. He came up with the idea of going as a spy. He dressed in a suit and made himself a badge to tuck into his shirt pocket and an ID card to flash from his wallet. He wore his "spy glasses" (with mirrors on the sides to see what's behind you) and I thought he took a motion detector or some other McDonald's spy toy we have kicking around.

But maybe he didn't because the next Monday he came home from school and told me that his teacher had told him that he didn't do a very good job with his costume. He should have made some gadgets or something to make it more interesting.

This year on one of the first days of school she had the kids write what their dream school would be like. One girl said that there would be a robot that would go around and if you got lost it would take you to your classroom. Cute, huh? Shows the little girl's fears and her solution for dealing with them.

The teacher didn't think so. She said, "That is a very strange idea. Why would you need someone to show you where your class is? Don't you know where it is!?! A better idea would be if you could fly to school. . . " and proceeded to explain how to use your imagination properly to create a TRULY interesting school.

A few days ago she asked David what his mom does for work. He told her that I write. She was intrigued and grilled him with questions. All he could tell her was that I write articles, send them to a man and he sends me money. When he couldn't explain better who the man was (name, please!) she said, "David! Don't you know anything about your own mother!?!"

The other day a girl needed a tissue and didn't have one. The teacher asked David if he had one he would give her. He didn't. She asked why not. He said because he doesn't have a stuffy nose. The teacher told him he has no culture, coming to class without tissues in his bag.

Other things she regularly says to students:

"Oh, that's an interesting haircut. I liked it better how it was before." Or she just says she doesn't like it.

"You wear your short sleeves over your long sleeves? Is that some kind of new style? Whatever!" and other comments on the clothes they wear.

"What is that!?! That's supposed to be a dog? That looks like a pig."

These are the only things I can remember right now, but David comes home from time to time and cries about how much he "hates" his teacher, usually when she's embarrassed him or a friend of his with her comments.

I just had to get that all off my chest. She's not always such a troll, and we have actually appreciated her sense of humor and hard work with the difficult class she's been dealing with for 2 full years already. But really, when you start resorting to insulting kids to get back at them for being hard to deal with I think it really is just time to retire. Even if you're only in your early forties. (and even if you praise my baking in front of all the other parents)(which is the main problem, praise and criticism all spoken loudly in front of everyone.)

Flattery and a Lack Thereof

"You weigh less than you did when you were dating your husband," my scale tells me.

"You look good for a mother of four," some say.

My clothes, though? And photos? They do not flatter.

All they tell me is, "You're Too Large." (jerks)

I love this photo despite my allergy eyes, partly because it reminds me that I should really get around to eating less some time soon (and mostly because I love being Evie's mom).

(Still waiting for that moment when I suddenly become excited about snacking on dried fruit and nuts and eating small portions and feeling hungry all the time and looking more like how I think of myself. And worrying it won't come until Spencer is weaned. And resigning myself to being large even though I hate it. I just don't hate it enough, I guess. And sorry for another vanity post. Ugh.)

Headless, etc.

I recognize that most idioms and sayings originate generations and/or hundreds of years ago. I also recognize that things were very different back in those days. Based on many idioms, I've come to the conclusion that one of the big differences between now and then is that back then much of people's time was probably spent either killing or thinking about killing animals.

Fortunately these days we think less frequently about harming animals. At least I personally am not obsessed with such thoughts, and yet in every day conversation even the nicest of us might use such phrases as ". . . like a chicken with its head cut off", or talk about "killing two birds with one stone" (bonus!).

When I was young my parents had a little thing they would say whenever they took off one of our shirts. It wasn't until I was a parent and found myself saying it naturally while getting my kids ready for bed that I realized what it even means. Then I realized that saying "Skin the kitty!" while pulling off a shirt is just awful. Like, extremely, terribly bad awful (and my parents aren't that old).

Now, I'm not the biggest animal lover. Baby animals are cute, but full grown ones I'm not the biggest lover of. Love I what is words up mixing. (whatever, Lisa) But even I am strongly opposed to these sayings when I think about it. When I don't think about it, I'm not really opposed to them at all, though.

One time when I was thinking about it, I came up with an alternate to killing two birds with one stone. It's not very clever or anything, but much nicer. I vote we ban all those terrible old idioms and come up with nicer, newer, shinier ones. At least right now that's my vote. Because I'm thinking about it.

The (Practically) Unsolvable

*Caution: This post may remind you of things you would rather keep forgotten*

I don't have a problem with solving problems. I just try to think of the logical way to fix whatever is broken and then get to work. However, there is one certain type of problem I really am no good with.

Every time one of my babies has a blowout I first get a tiny bit mad (just a teeny tiny bit, like of low growling severity) and after a second I think, "Now what? Where do I begin? I have no idea what to do with this." Every single time.

You would think this would be something a mother of four would get used to. I have not. Especially when the baby is still quite floppy, it is just tricky and unpleasant to deal with this problem.

And if it happens more than once in a day I feel I have been very poorly done by. (Sheesh, who's the baby here!)

I try not to hold it against him. He's just a kid. And when he does this


all is quickly forgiven.

Obama's Big Blunder

Barack's Big Blunder would sound slightly better but I don't appreciate people calling authority figures by their first name, and Obama's still got the "b" in there, so I'm good.

One of the 30 posts I have written in my brain in the past few months was a sentimental, patriotic one about the anniversary of the fall of communism and how much I love Poland for it's bravery and awesomeness. I'm more sad than ever that I never wrote that post after today.

Today is the anniversary of the day the Red army marched into Poland, high fiving the German's on their way out of the country. This is not a happy anniversary. They've been showing footage of the hundreds of tanks rolling in on this day seventy years ago, and the Russian and German soldiers tearing apart Polish flags, all marking the beginning of decades of oppression and poverty and lots of other bad stuff (losing my vocabulary, here).

Today, on this very anniversary, Barack Obama announced that there will be no missle defense sheild built in Poland. Not that this is a huge surprise in itself, but today? All over European news they're talking about how this is basically a bow to the Russians, or a gift to them. Just what they deserve, really.

I'm sure he said some conciliatory stuff during the announcement, too, but come on. Poland has stood by America through thick and thin. They had the third highest number of troops in Iraq after the US and England. They have been super forgiving of the country that basically ignored their plight during WWII for years while millions of people died and their country was trashed.

I've not been too interested in Obama's mistakes up until now but this one I definitely have an opinion about. I gladly admit that Bush wasn't the best when it comes to foreign policy, but today is being declared a major low in US foreign policy. Under who?

Who's the dim wit that decided this would be announced today? The idiocy.

***

I know I've been virtually absent from the blogging/emailing/Internet world, but I still think in blog posts and read blogs sporadically. All the posts I have lined up in my brain are just waiting for me to feel like doing anything, at which point I will post them.

Double Standard

Why is it that I just love when one kid does something, but hate when another does?

Take KICKING for example:

Older children doing it to each other? NOT cute.

Children in my tummy doing it (when I'm less than nine months pregnant)? VERY cute.

Funny how that works.

And speaking of weird stuff, yesterday Greg and I came back from the doctor and our friend, who had stayed with the kids said, "I think Aaron had an accident," and showed us the huge wet spot on the couch.

Both Greg and I were nonplussed.* First of all, Aaron doesn't really have accidents, especially not more than a drip. Also, he wears a pull up so it wouldn't matter anyway.

Then David answered our confusion with the beginning of an explanation, "We were doing something and it was so funny. . ." And both Greg and I were no longer confused. It was seven year old David who'd peed on the couch, not Aaron. Now we understood.

The two year old isn't expected to have an accident, but it's a very common occurrence with the seven year old. Poor boy. He got it from me. I remember the days of hoping nobody would make me laugh too hard. Maybe he'll outgrow it, too, by the time he's 25 or so.

*(I put that in there for you, Sus)

Love and Hate

Hate:

I don't actually hate writing articles, exactly.  Sometimes they're a breeze and I can whip out as many as four in an hour (that's 2,ooo words - this happens rarely, though)  Three an hour is more like it.  But sometimes, like yesterday, I can't even do two.

What I hate is at dinner time being only halfway through my article writing because they're mostly about cappuccino and espresso makers and my research on the subject necessarily begins with this search: "What is cappuccino/espresso".  You know it's going to be slow going when you have to ask for definitions of the keywords. 

Then I hate finally allowing my starving self to go make my favorite dinner ever (Skillet Ziti with Chicken and Broccoli, so simple but I cannnooooot stop eating it) for a break, only to find that I can't start cooking until I wash about every dish in the kitchen and clean up, too.  

I also hate when I've finally got the dishes done and look down and see the SAME crushed pretzel lying on the kitchen floor that I have not been sweeping up for two days because I've been on the verge of vacuuming any minute now (for two days) and I decide something MUST be done about it right this minute, as I slowly waste away in my hunger.  Instead of pulling out the the dustpan and little broom I get out the vacuum and proceed to vacuum the entire downstairs.  Then I decide to mop the entire downstairs too, before heading back into the kitchen to finally get dinner started.

Love:

I love sneaking away from my writing occasionally to read excellent posts about good friends meeting each other for the first time and their adventures. 

I love when I'm stressfully trying to wash those dishes quickly so I don't pass out or die of starvation before I can get dinner made, and Greg comes in and tells me something that cheers me up/horrifies me.  He's been really sick and he had to go see his accountant in town.  When he went in the office he told her right away, "I'm not going to shake your hand because I haven't been feeling well since I returned from a trip to Mexico."  She literally pushed off away from her desk and started stuttering.  Greg, being the evil person that he is, wanted to continue and pretend he hadn't heard about swine flu, but thought better of it and told her he was kidding.  What a terrible joke.

I love freshly vacuumed and mopped floors.  

I love eating Skillet Ziti with Chicken and Broccoli.

One Yearish Mark GiveAway

I'm pretty bad with celebrations.  I can do them, and I enjoy them, but I don't do things big very often.  So in keeping with that bad personality trait, I proclaim:

It's been about a year since I started blogging!!  

How official and celebratory is that?  I started posting on my regular schedule April 16th.  I was going to celebrate on the day a stranger first commented on my blog (that's you, Becky!) which would be in July, but that is too late for me to mail something to someone, since I plan to do it in June when I'm in Hamerica (that's what Greg calls it, so I do sometimes, too.  I doesn't mean anything besides America). 

So there you have it.  I love blogging.  I love keeping up with family and friends and I really love the new friends I've made.  I love that I can write whatever I want, even though I sometimes feel bad because it's not worth reading for others, but I want to write it anyway.  So I do.  I have stayed true to myself in this blogging world, though, and that's what counts (to me).  That and the friendships I've made and getting really amazing insights, information, stories and laughs from you all.

I really appreciate you guys a lot.  I would like to be rich and just send a package to everyone I'm friends with through blogging.  Maybe next year. . .

So what am I giving Away? you might ask.  I'm not really sure!  Now race to enter the giveAway, everyone!!  :)

I'm giving Away Polish stuff.  I have a suspision that it will be mostly food but I'll be sure to include some other Polish stuff, such as things that they have in Poland that aren't food.

To enter, just leave a comment on this post.  I'll choose a winner on Saturday (and mail the stuff, as I said, in June, sorry!).  And I hope it's YOU!  (meaning, no need to spread the word.  Let's keep this in the family (plus people who chance upon it, you're invited too, of course!), unless you know someone who's crazy about Polish stuff or something, then you can share.)

*********

Now to COMPLETELY change the subject for a minute.  I need to vent a little.  About Breaking Dawn.  I know I'm extremely late to that party, but here I am.  **might be spoilers ahead**

I'm not the type to get worked up over a story or to be too critical, or generally to get all involved, so that's not what this is about.  I just really need an answer to a question I keep having.  I am about 3/4 of the way through the book.  The vampires are gathering.  So they can "witness" to the Volturi.  Because hopefully seeing all the vampires there will make them stop for just long enough to listen.  It's not very likely, though.  Everyone will surely die.  

WHY ON EARTH DOESN'T SOMEONE, LIKE, SAY, BELLA, WHO IS IMMUNE TO ALL THEIR TRICKS, GO TO ITALY AND TALK TO THEM?  She was planning on going, anyway.  They aren't coming to Forks for A FREAKIN' MONTH.  If all that is needed is to explain what Renesmee is, why are we waiting for them to get in battle formation FOR A MONTH (and why on earth do they keep talking about a month as if it's SUCH  a short time?  Do the Volturi really have that much to pack? Maybe it is a short amount of time if it's all you've got left to live, but it's also PLENTY of time for 85 smart vampires to go on the offense.  Be serious.)  

I have read a little bit further and I know that they're suspecting that it's not about Renesmee but any excuse to carry out their evil plot, but still.  Why this gaping hole?  Or is it not gaping.  Or not even a hole?  Please SOMEONE ENLIGHTEN ME.

Despite this and a number of other smacking my hand to my forehead moments, I'm actually enjoying this book some.  (thanks for sending it, Su!)

********

To LOL or Not to LOL

That is the question. Or that is a question, anyway.

I saw lol for the first time two years ago. Since then I've seen it more and more often. Most recently David has started saying it, "LOL!" Or more often, "Oh, LOL!" But only when he's speaking Polish. He says it when someone shows him a cool magazine or toy, or when he's crossing the street and a car zooms quickly by right behind him. "Oh lol!!" Yes, hilarious, David. So funny. You almost got run over by a car.

I don't ever remember writing lol except for when I was talking about the acronym and not using it. Instead, I will write old fashioned things like:
Hilarious!!
SO funny!
I laughed out loud!

BORING, I know. I'm going to start using new ones like:
Hysterical!!
So comical!
How humorous is that!
Very amusing.

But I just can't bring myself to do the LOL thing. Maybe it's partly because I have felt that, like David, many people just kind of use it as a catch-all phrase. A thing to type. Like at the beginning or end of a sentence, or just on it's own with an exclamation point or two. I personally don't have a problem finding things to type and therefore don't really need random acronyms, like some might.

I am coming to grips with the lol phenomenon, though. I must say I like seeing those three little letters in comments here on my blog. When I do, I imagine that the commenter actually laughed out loud. I'm sure it's not always the case, or maybe it's rarely the case, but I have a good imagination.

I talked to my husband about this last night and he said that he thinks a lot of people use it in place of a smiley face. Now THAT makes some sense. No, it doesn't make sense, I mean that it helps me make sense of people using it when I can't imagine what could possibly have made them laugh out loud. But a friendly smile? Those fit in anywhere. LOL!

And before you exit the blog, would you mind answering the poll in my sidebar?
*Those of you who read the dear Annie Valentine over at Regarding Annie, please know that I was planning on writing a post about this before I read hers. What can I say? Great minds think alike. And for the record, I didn't re-read hers before I typed this up to keep copying at a minimum.
Update: I just peeked over there to make the link, and remembered that she gives some excellent alternative acronyms.

Avoiding Blogging Stereotypes

I haven't been blogging for all that long (about 5 months), but I'm glad to finally feel like I'm getting the hang of a lot of things. I've received all sorts of good advice from friends along the way, as well as learning from posts I've read. I started blogging just to keep up with family and possibly friends, and blogging has turned into a really important part of my life. This post is meant to be an audience participation thing, because I really want to hear what you guys think.

First I'll start with how I came to feel the way I do about blogging. I'd like to quote some friends in purple (hope they don't mind! about the quoting or the purple.) As I was reading through this again I realized that these guys are both professors of history, teaching me about blogging!:
" Until I tried it, I always thought blogging was a little self-indulgent. Now, I'm glad to indulge!" I hadn't even thought of this!! It has explained to me why some people shy away from blogging, including reading blogs. I think it also partially explains why I feel so apologetic about what I write. But it stopped me from being bothered with all the "this blog is about ME" everywhere. I realized people were making fun of themselves (I really did think that people were serious and were just vain like that. Weird. Especially for someone as sarcastic as I am...)
"I've. . . heard about something called "blog guilt" and "blog anxiety," where people spend tons of time on their blogs, or people who don't spent a lot of time feel guilty, or people who obsess over the comments. I just think, we already have enough to worry about, why worry about such a trivial thing? " This might not sound very profound, but it came early on when I was still very excited about getting comments. It's totally impacted how I see things.

I've also read a large number of posts about blogging (the heavily plagiarized one by Sue comes immediately to mind) or at least people mentioning here and there on their blogs about blogging/comments, that have had me picking and choosing what I want my blogging experience to be. AND what I don't want it to be.

POSTING:
Soon after I started blogging, I learned that I loved it when people posted regularly. I decided that I would try to post thrice a week. I shoot for Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Sometimes, when we're gone on a weekend, I might schedule the post so that it is published while I'm out. Sometimes this might cause almost an entire post to be in microscopic type because blogger is weird and it wasn't showing up like that on the preview before we left (sorry about that one, y'all).
I still post thrice a week, although I'm beginning to think that this is more than is necessary. I do it because I want to keep myself disciplined and doing something regularly. I realize this a little wrong, since you should just post when you have something to say. I do that too, though, I just wait to publish until the right day!
I have also spent a great deal of time apologizing for how long or boring/pointless my posts are and that I'm not trying to make things interesting around here. I am trying not to do this as much, but I am still constantly surprised that people are reading this blog. I also realize that hopefully, people just won't read if they think it's boring so apologizing for it is almost as pointless as some of my posts are.

COMMENTS:
It used to be that when I visited a new blog I would sometimes take note of how many comments they had on their posts, and kind of determine their popularity based on that. I would rarely leave a comment if there were already 15+ comments on that post, as I assumed that that person probably wouldn't even notice if I did or not.

I'm not going to lie and say I don't care about comments. It would be like saying I hate getting email from people I like. I don't. I love it. I just try not to let the number concern me too much. I will say that I was shocked the first time I saw that I had 17 comments. I was thinking, wait!! Am I one of them!?! But I know I'm not. I don't have 60 people subscribed to my blog. In reality I think at least half of the people that read my blog also comment! Sometimes more. Why are people so nice like that to me? Not sure, but I love it. I'll gush a bit about you guys in my
next post.

So now I realize that I think you can probably get a LOT of comments before you stop caring to read them all. I still don't comment on blogs like The Pioneer Woman though. I mean really. Do people think she reads the 300th comment about how their kid also goes streaking through the house naked, or how Wow! I LOVE chocolate chip cookies, too!!? (okay, I sorta made this up. I rarely visit her site, although I love it. Especially Cooking and I just peeked on there and saw TEN THOUSAND comments left on a giveaway post). I mean I'm glad people DO leave comments and they should. I just don't. Even on giveaways.

Since we're talking about avoiding things today, let me say that I try not to have pet peeves in blogging, because I want to like everyone and have us all be different and beautiful in our own ways. There is ONE thing that I don't quite get, though. I remember one time I was reading a blog I'd never read before and the post was a very intense, heart-wrenching one about her son's behavior disorder and how it affected their family. It really affected me as I read it and I was overflowing with a desire to know how to help her (she was asking for advice). There was just one comment before me and it was something like, "How funny that we bumped into each other at the store! Love your new purse." or something completely off topic like that. I was like, "Huh!?!" So I don't like comments that are completely off topic. Especially when the subject matter of the post is very personal or at least interesting (that hasn't really happened here, but I see it a lot on other blogs). I know that not everyone has the email address to contact their friend, but at least comment on the post first, then say your other thing. Just my opinion.

BLOG ROLLS:
This is such a hard one for me. Before I really got into blogging, my blog lists, famiLee (maiden name there) and friends, were all the bloggers I knew. As I started reading more and more blogs, I started thinking about a "friends I've never met" list. Still, I find I want to have 7 different categories for people I met in different ways or people who are huge (blog huge, not physically huge, that would be a really rude way to classify blogs! People who weigh under 130 lbs., 130-150, 150-170 etc.), people who found me and now we're friends, people who I found and now we're friends etc. etc. I just feel like there's a story behind each blog and I hate just lumping everyone into a huge blog roll.

My solution? You've probably already noticed. I just don't have a blog roll of people I've never met. I think I'll let my "followers" (which unfortunately feels slightly like a popularity contest I don't want to be in, but I love to see all your faces-or other scenic pictures, or blue, shadowy, faceless silhouettes, in my side bar) kind of be like my blog roll. Also, on my profile I have a list of the blogs I'm following, including those that aren't on blogger and therefore cannot be in my followers list. I think that will be my blog roll for now. I feel totally honored to be on some of your blog rolls. Really. Thanks a lot, guys.

Now! would you please tell me about some things you don't love about the world of blogs? Something that bugs you (even if I or my readers do it (like when someone doesn't reciprocate putting you on their blog list or something). We all know we love each other and we're OPEN, right?) or something that you are trying to steer clear of? I'll have an upcoming post on embracing blogging stereotypes and you can share what you love there, but for now, lets keep it negative.
*Oh, and will you also vote on my poll? Thanks, man!

Stiff

Sixty degrees Fahrenheit is a temperature entirely too low for the interior of a family home. The only reason I can think of that a home might remain at that temperature for an entire week would be in anticipation of an upcoming heat wave that would surely have the resident family grateful for a pre-frozen house.

If, however, no such wave of heat should make it's appearance, the inhabitants of that house may possibly decide that, while it was fun for a while*, those ice tipped noses and toes and stiff fingers and lips are ready for a bit of a thaw.

The heater comes on after church on Sunday, and the movement of our extremities (assuming there's been no permanent damage), with it.

Current outside temperature: 46 degrees (at 3pm). What's your weather doing to you?
*Or they may possibly have hated every single second of it.

He's Got My Back

If the title of this post is conjuring up images in your head of Greg rescuing me from a crowd of dangerous men in whose vicinity I was practicing my new found eyelash fluttering skills which were only meant to be seen by Greg, across the table of our white clothed, candlelit table in the expensive Viennese restaurant in which we were dining, when they approached our table to flirt back in their own crude way, then please, close you're eyes and imagine away (and add in all sorts of heroic acts and clever retorts by my dearly beloved, 'cause he really is chivalrous like that) and join us back here at this post when you're ready for a change of subject, as that never actually happened and is not what this post is about.
please insert three to four periods in the proceeding paragraph if you don't approve of my marathon run-on sentence.
While I'm sure that would make for a much more engrossing post, it is not the tale I have to tell. MY tale is about the second most captivating thing I could write about: health issues! Now that I've got your attention, let's begin.

Just after Greg and I were married, I was feeling so independent and grown up, running my own household, having someone to "take care of," finding a job to help get my husband through the rest of school etc. While the rest of me was busy with all these adult, responsible activities, my skin was still acting like that of a teenager. I found this to be rude and irritating. I think it should have put forth more of an effort to act mature instead of undermining my adulthood. I had always wanted to go on Accutane and come out with beautiful, amazing skin, but I hadn't had the opportunity. It seemed to me like it was now or never, since you can't be on Accutane if there's any possibility that you may become pregnant. So I saw a dermatologist who agreed that I could begin the six month round (or was it three? It felt like six.) of taking the medication.

Accutane almost immediately cleared up my skin. It also made it so I didn't need to wash my hair every day, for the first time in my life (or at least since I was twelve, before which time my hair was only washed during my weekly bath/shower when my sister and I would shower together and pretend we were under a waterfall and the floral shower curtain was the wildflower covered mountain). But that wasn't all it did for me. It also ruined my back. I started having back pain early on while taking the medication and it continued to get worse and worse. I found I was unable to keep up with all my responsibilities as a mother's helper, but the family I worked for were super nice and relieved me of the dish washing which was my main back breaker, and didn't mind me laying around in between bouts of playing with/feeding the twins. I assumed my back would feel better once I finished my medication. It sort of did.

But mostly it didn't. Since then I have had recurring spells of back pain. Weeks where I could not do some of the very basics of housekeeping. Anything that required you to work with something in front of you i.e. dish washing, laundry hanging and vacuuming. I could only choose one of those things to do each day. It should have been an awesome excuse not to clean, but it was really just a pain, in every sense of the word. In short I'm slightly crippled. Unfortunately I'm afraid I probably will be forever. Oh, I have gone for months without any problems at all, but I have also had entire months where I couldn't sleep past 4 am because the pain was so bad. (aren't you enjoying this Tour of Lisa's Health Issues? FUN!)

Now for the part where Greg's got my back. Our backyard when we moved in was a wasteland of thick weeds. Greg spent days out pulling those weeds. When it was about half finished we decided to hire a neighborhood kid to finish it for us, because Greg's back wasn't handling it all that well. Fast forward a month to where he starts to mention once in a while that his back really hurts (he never mentions if anything hurts). A week later he's walking like an old man in the morning. Another week and he's walking like an old man all the time. Do you think I cried the next week when I saw him coming up the front stairs with a cane in his hand? Maybe a little.

When he started having problems walking in a position that didn't make him look like a caveman, he went to the doctor. He had some x-rays and even confessed to me that he was worried it might be something serious. Fortunately it doesn't look like anything serious. It's just that now he can't sit down or stand up in under 3 minutes and to get into laying position might take 5, with LOTS of pain, and I can't watch him attempt it because a) he doesn't want me to (duh) and b) it doesn't make me feel all happy and sunshiny. He has been waking up 2 or 3 times a night to get up (5 minute process) and walk around to get his back into sleepable position again.

We've figured out that he has sciatica (it goes all the way down his leg at this point). Apparently it's very likely that it will go away within a few months. He's trying to get lots of exercise, has some funky laser and magnetic therapy, and gets plenty of rest as well (although I still have to force him to let me do things sometimes). The other day I was carrying the groceries upstairs from the car and he was very apologetic that I had to do all the manly duties, besides my regular wifely duties. I told him I didn't mind, and he said, "I now pronounce you man and wife."

I meant to post this on Thursday, but posted about the award instead, and I'm so glad I did, because Greg's back is definitely improving! He hardly uses the cane at all! The last 2 nights he's only been waking up once a night for his little walk. I'm so glad to see that he is feeling so much better! I hope to have a real man as man of the house someday soon!

Now that he's not walking like a Neanderthal anymore, I'm hoping I can get him to stop dragging me around by my hair*.
*He has never actually dragged me around by my hair. I just have a hard time ending my posts sometimes and this time it just seemed right to end it with a lamer-than-usual joke.

From Russia, With Love (or Lisa's Propaganda Part II)

Okay, so I made a mistake and didn't type up this second half while it was fresh in my head. At this moment I don't really care about Russia or any of the things I meant to write, but I'm going to make myself write them (or at least something like them) anyway.

After communism fell Russia became a little jealous of all the siblings that had disowned him. (I know Russia should technically be a girl but how can a girl also be a Big Brother?--And actually, if Nikita is a boy's name in Russian, let's allow Russia to be as well). People in Russia were sad and felt that their glory days were gone. While communism was said to be over, there were still plenty of "former" communists in the government. I think these are the guys that are causing the problems.

I will sum this up by saying that it is no surprise that many of the journalists who set out to expose some of Russian government's corruption have died under "mysterious" circumstances. People in these parts of the world (and actually, I believe all parts of the world) have very little doubt as to who has been behind these murders. The government denies any wrongdoing (really?) but we somehow don't believe them.

Russia has tried (don't remember if it was successful) to create a gasline that would go through Poland and to make sure that Poles would have no access to this gas. They have strongly opposed the proposed American missile defense shield to be set up in Poland. Russia grows more disgruntled with every western movement his neighbors make. It makes some really grown up moves, too, like electronic attacks on servers such as those it used against Georgia in the days following it's invasion.

Now, in Georgia, Russian separatists get out of hand. The Georgian government is forced to come crack down on these separatists. Russia claims this constitutes genocide. Doing what it takes to prevent terrorists from trying to take over part of your country is not genocide. Even if some of them die. Even if they are all from one country. Our dear Russia enters in all it's military beauty to keep Georgia from being such meanies to it's fellow Russians who were, after all, only causing problems because they want independence.

Within seconds of hearing the news (or at least we heard both news items at once) of Russia's invasion of Georgia, Poland's President announces Poland's solidarity with Georgia. Most former soviet block countries follow closely behind. How could they jump to such quick conclusions? Why can't they just trust that the Russian's were trying to help solve a problem? Essentially, it comes down to the fact that Russia simply cannot be trusted. Putin gives me the creeps. Everyone knows that the new Russian president is actually just a new face and name for Putin, as his time was up, but his agenda wasn't completed. The Russian ambassador to the UN calls the appearance of 5, count 'em 5 presidents of former soviet block countries at a rally in Georgia's capital "rhetoric" and suggests that Georgia "put and end to the rhetoric and get back to serious business." Yes, because it's nothing really all that serious that one of the world superpowers, who doesn't like anyone, thinks it's okay to try and take over one of it's neighbors.

It's pretty scary to think about all the things that could happen, seeing Russia's behavior and knowing it's history. I've read on some forums things like World War III, Cold War II, the possibility of Russia and China joining forces etc. None of it sounds very good to me. I hope things will settle down nicely. It was so kind of Russia to agree to the ceasefire. Even kinder of them to stay in the region to help "keep the peace." They're so thoughtful like that.

From Russia, With Love (or Lisa's Propaganda Part I)

I think many Europeans see American's as fast food eating, diet coke drinking, television watching, arrogant people, who don't know geography, care very little for world affairs, and think they know and do everything better than other countries (the very countries that they know so little about). I used to really resent these stereotypes, until I started realizing that, actually, many of those things are true.

The thing that still kind of gets me though, is the allegations of arrogance and ignorance. I think the reason for this is that I know that I have at least a tinge of both of those things (and probably lots of tinges). However, my husband is European and also very globally aware, and I live in Europe, and these two things have combined to help me be just a bit less ignorant than I might be, were I left to figure stuff out on my own. I'd like to share some thoughts with you, although I realize that my ideas are almost certainly tinted, and maybe even colored, by the place I live and the people who live here--but I still think they're at least mostly correct (I guess it would be pretty stupid to hold an opinion that you didn't think was correct...).

I am sure Russian people are nice. I've known some, and I've known a number of people who have lived in Russia, and I have nothing (or very little, barring their ignorance--okay, I'm the pot, they're the kettle-but I'm talking about a specific kind of ignorance) against Russian people. It's "The Russians" I have a bit of a problem with. I suppose "The Russians" would refer to the government/system. I'm neither educated (on this subject) nor eloquent enough to say just what I mean, but let's just place all the blame on Putin. Kidding! Sort of.

So the Russians have always been pretty powerful. They've always liked to be powerful (unlike all those other countries who prefer to have zero influence). They've also always been different. The West has headed in one direction (westward?) while they. . . haven't. I'm speaking generally here. I know there are all kinds of advances there and that their major cities are as large and modern as any the world has to offer. I also know that there are very few such major cities, and that outside of those cities, life is . . . not nearly so "westernized."

The Russian Empire (according to Wikipedia) was the second largest contiguous (whatever that means) empire in the History Of Empires. People who live in areas that were trampled on during the war can tell you that if they had to choose to have their town overrun by German soldiers or Russian, they would take German for sure, because of the ruthlessness and brutality of the Russian soldiers to civilians. From a broader perspective, I found a very interesting article that I think paints a portrait of Soviet wrongdoing really well. It also describes the very "ignorance" (and what it can lead to) that I referred to previously when I was being a hypocrite. It's not very long and you can see by the list of "Crimes of Joseph Stalin and the Soviet Union" that a great deal of their crimes were committed against Poles.

I don't think Russia wanted to be seen as the parent of the countries it "adopted," so let's just call it a sibling. Unfortunately they weren't a very kind Big Brother, if you catch my meaning. One evidence of this is that virtually no former communist block country is on friendly terms with Russia. For example, if you speak Russian in this country, while many people will understand you (Russian was taught in schools during communism) they are highly unlikely to let on that they do, and quite a bit more likely to show varying degrees of annoyance.

So Russia was a rather selfish, domineering, and abusive brother. It was also a big liar. I love some of the propaganda videos the Soviet Communists entertained their younger siblings with. I'll sum them up by saying that anything bad that happened in those countries (right down to a plague of potato bugs) was obviously the fault of the mean, evil Americans (or at least the West in general). Of course conversely, all the good and beauty found in those countries could be traced directly back to that affectionate elder brother.

We all know that communism fell. That's great and it has meant wonderful things for former Eastern Block countries. However, changes in Russia have come much more slowly, and it has continued it's mean-older-brotherly ways.

**I never cease to amaze myself. Here's a subject I don't actually know a lot about, and yet, I can ramble on about it for long enough that I feel I should break it up into two posts. So for those of you who come here seeking Pictures of Pawlik Progeny etc., you can skip the next post, with my apologies. . .**

A Broken Promise; or Never Say Never

I distinctly remember sitting with my sister in the living room of our trailer in Orem talking to my dad about fashion. Actually, my memory isn't all that distinct because there's every possibility that it might have been in our house two states (and at least as many years) away. But anyway, we were in some living room somewhere, and we were talking about fashion. I think we had been looking at pictures from the olden days, read: when we were even younger than our 12ish years. We had been teasing dad about how ridiculously he had dressed back then. Those bell bottoms! How silly were those!

They were pointless. If you wanted your pants loose, you should wear them loose. If you preferred them tight, by all means, wear them tight. But to have them fitted from the knee up and then have 5 pounds of extra material flapping at your ankles was just ridiculous. And ugly as sin. We railed him on this for quite a while. He did the best he could to explain that fashions come and go and that they actually were cool and that one day we would understand. He even went so far as to bet us that WE would find ourselves wearing them one day. We laughed. We laughed hard.

When we had finally stopped rolling on the floor and wiped the tears from our eyes we saw that he was actually serious. It was as if he hadn't heard what we were saying at all, and therefore still thought that we really would wear them some day. To prove to our father how very, very serious we were, we each swore (most likely "on a stack of holy bibles"as all oaths were sworn back then) that we would never, no never, stoop so low. I can still picture the kind, but very slightly smug upturn on the corners of dad's mouth.

I'm sure I don't have to explain what happened probably very nearly exactly as many years later as he had said it would. The title of this post tells that part of the tale. To my credit, I resisted for a long time. When I watched people walking down the street and heard the "ding" and the "dong" of their jeans, I felt a bit scornful. I wasn't fooled by the new name "flares". Those were BELL BOTTOMS, plain and simple, and they were ridiculous. Eventually, of course, they became so darling in a "why didn't I see it before" sort of a way. I started wearing them a few years before they went out of fashion again.

Why do we always tease the youth about their naiveness? This is something THEY understand. As soon as you're "supposed" to be wearing skinny pants, they start wearing skinny pants. THEY don't care about how ridiculous they are, or how unnaturally short they make their legs look. THEY don't mind continuing to pull up the extra 10 inches of material over their heels and bunch it around their ankles after they've already zipped and buttoned them at the top. If bell bottoms had come back in fashion a week after we had made our promise to dad, I would probably have been wearing them before the month was out. As an adult, however, I resist.

I am still wondering, do we have to wear skinny pants? Will they be like the flares of yester-or, in my case, this-year? Can't there be some alternate style chosen that will always look classy to people of all ages, for those of us who can't be suckered into wearing the trendy ones? As it is, I am feeling like it's about time for me to go and get myself a pair of skinny pants. Partly because all my old flared ones are falling to pieces, and partly because I don't want to still have pairs and pairs of new-ish skinny pants right about the time they start going out of style. **sigh**

So, advise me. Do YOU wear skinny pants? Can we get away with NEVER wearing them? Do you still wish your flares were in fashion? ARE they still in fashion on the other side of the world? (If so, we may move up our date for returning to permanent residence in the States).

You Asked for It

So I'm not a big fan of pictures of myself in general. And it's much worse when I've got the bad cut and dork glasses, which Nathan was right about in his comment on the original hair post (in that it was an unpleasant surprise when I put them on and was able to actually SEE how they look from farther than one nose length away--although for me that may be farther than it is for some).

I had Greg take a couple pictures, all of which gave me the neck of a football player, and were therefore unuseable (obviously). I decided it might be less objectionable and more informative if I shot some video so you could see all three dimensions of it. So Evie shot some for me, and I was being an excellent guide and explaining everything for y'all. Then we realized that the cheap little camera we were using doesn't have a mic. Good thing I've got the gestures going on so you know where you're supposed to look and everything. I present you with 10 seconds of Lisa's new hair and glasses:



Then I decided to also try another shot, but this time holding Aaron to bring this post a much needed element of cuteness that was desperately lacking with just the video. He doesn't have a new haircut, but he's got some glasses that he loves to wear around the house (they were Evie's and that's why they have flowers on them. That's also why he only wears them around the house.) Evie took this one for us, too! If this continues, I may have to increase her allowance! Oh wait, she doesn't get an allowance.

Then I thought, as long as I was addressing commenters, I might as well address Andrea, who mentioned-also in the comments- having once flipped my hair up. I think I might sort of vaguely remember that, but one thing I DO know is that I love hair flipped up! With this haircut I can flip it up in the back, as well as doing it under as seen here. I dislike it both ways equally. But I think Evie looks the cutest with her hair flipped.



So, if you feel inclined to comment, keep in mind that a) I'm very into honesty, and b) you can't go wrong, as you'll either be commiserating with me, or assuring me that it's not as bad as it seems. Win-win.

Bangs! Bangs! I'd Rather Be Dead!

Okay, maybe that title is a bit over dramatic, but only a bit. I think no one has ever wanted to grow their bangs out more than I do. And I've only had them since yesterday.

I've been excited to get new glasses and a haircut for months now, and finally the time has come. First I went to the Optyk to choose some frames. I was determined not to get thick, dark, rectangular frames like the rest of the world. I was going to be original; and look so cute doing it. Even with my hair straight and straggly and ugly, as I've been thinking it for some months now, I put on these frames and suddenly felt that I looked so hip and cute. My hair was actually just kind of layered and wild in a trendy sort of way. I tried on maybe 25 pairs and narrowed my choices down to three,( all of which were thick, dark, rectangular frames) and made an appointment for an eye exam.

Then I went to make an appointment to have my hair cut at the best fryzjer in Mielec. They found a way to squeeze me in before I went to my eye exam so that I could make my final decision on my frames with my new haircut. They promised I would be in and out by 3pm which was when I had my eye appointment across the street.

I find it very difficult not to fall asleep while having my hair cut. This is primarily because, with my glasses off, I can see approximately nothing. Not exactly nothing, because I was able to tell when the lady started cutting me some bangs. I've had hair stylist trying to convince me to let them cut bangs for years, and I alway say no way. Uh...this lady didn't ask, she just cut. I was a little surprised when I noticed it, and slightly bothered, but I settled into feeling glad, because I probably should have tried them out a long time ago, and plus, what if I looked amazing with them? Yes, I would probably look amazing with them.

She finished cutting and styling and I put my glasses back on. My first reaction on seeing my reflection in the mirror was to laugh. Then I smiled and got us out of there (I took Evie along as a consultant). I SO didn't like this haircut. THEN I looked at my watch and saw that it was almost 3:20. Can we say "satisfied customer?"

It was okay that we were late at the optician, and there were even about 30 seconds for me to mess with my hair in the mirror and decide that I REALLY didn't like this haircut. After the exam it was time to decide on frames. I put them all on in turn and guess what? Did they magically transform my hair into a fantastic and flattering cut? No. Every frame, when combined with my new cut, made me look like super-dork of the universe. I spent about 10 minutes deciding (nine of which were actually spent staring in disbelief at my hair) and found that I would be paying WAY more for these glasses, that only I sort of liked, than I wanted to. So when she asked if I wanted the skinnier kind of lenses for an extra $40 I said no, even though that means that you will probably see the thickness of the lenses sticking out of my frames. At this point, I really don't care, since I look like an dork anyway.

I will say that it's perfectly normal for me to come home from getting a haircut dissatisfied. Greg would be surprised if I ever came home and said that I liked my cut. I almost always come home, wash my hair for the third time that day and restyle it myself, and I usually feel better about the cut after that. No "just stepped out of a salon" feeling for me, thanks. I don't know if this is normal. Do other people do this? Well, either way, I do. But this time I didn't have the heart to try and fix it and then be disappointed again, so I left it until this morning. I just styled it myself, and: let's say I hated it 300% yesterday; I only hate it 250% when I style it myself. I'd rather go back to looking like Velma.

Also, when I came home yesterday Aaron laughed (actual, cute, baby, "mommy just made a funny joke" laughed) every single time he looked at me over the course of the first hour. I completely agree with him. This haircut is a joke.

*It's not a bad haircut. I'm sure she did a great job. It just is NOT my style and doesn't suit me.