Waiting, Waiting

The giant storm that has descended on the Rockies has delayed my departure from Utah. This is what I do while I wait to leave (my options are limited since it's COLD and I'm sick).

1. Have wacky conversations with E(6).

E(6) sat next to me on the couch and leaned over with her lips puckered.

MBC: What are you doing?

E(6): This is what I do to [little boy in her class]. I want to kiss him someday.

MBC: Why do you want to kiss him?

E(6): Aunt! Because I LOVE him.

Silly me.

2. Have wacky conversations with Tuey.

Tuey: (with his face buried in my sweater) Oh, Aunt. You smell. just. like. an aunt.

3. Have wacky conversations with my sister.

MBC: Weather.com says that it's still going to be snowing in Rock Springs tomorrow. And in Cheyenne. And in Denver.

Sister: Check Accuweather.

MBC: Why? Do they have better information?

Sister: No, but they'll tell you what you want to hear.

MBC: Oh, hmmm, yeah, it does say here that the weather should be improved tomorrow.

Sister: See? Doesn't that make you feel better?

MBC: No. I'm pretty sure weather.com is correct and there's still a terrible storm in Wyoming. I feel lied to.

Sister: Well, I feel better.

We're hoping to leave tomorrow. Cross your fingers for us.

How I Blog When I'm Sick

I love this video, especially the last half. I first saw it on Brooke's blog (thank you, Brooke) and I find myself mentioning it to people a lot, so here it is.

A Special Treat

My sister grew popcorn this year. She told me to be sure to mention that she grew it "three sisters" style (meaning, she grew the corn together with beans and squash). Here's how we enjoyed the harvest today.

1. Tuey pulled the kernels off the cobs.


2. We heated oil on the stove and added the kernels.

3. My sister oversaw the cooking until the corn was all popped.

4. Our resident 5-year-old claimed about half the popcorn for herself, ferociously guarding her plate and yelling when anyone tried to share.


6. Tuey employed his usual enthusiastic eating style.



p.s. This kid's the best. If he just had a volume control button, he'd be perfect.

Next Up

So, you might think that having unemployed myself many months ago and having now returned to the States without a job and without a home that I would feel a certain urgency/desire/inclination to find myself a new job. You would be mistaken in that thought. Turns out that I'm terribly fond of unemployment and that I have more places to visit. Next (after moving all my stuff to my parents' house), I will be housesitting in the NYC area for a month. And then I'm planning to go to the Outer Banks (anybody know of good places to stay there?). And then I'm off to Boston. After that, I'm open to suggestions.

The Marmot Reunion

The marmots and I have been joyfully reunited. M(5) has become more or less a permanent fixture at my side, and she and Tuey and E(6) and I have been having good times. Marmot Babe, however, does not remember me. He doesn't remember me AND, after realizing that his mother is perfectly willing to abandon him and leave him with me, he's very, very wary of me. He's developed his own system of sign language and one of his signs means I'm done. As in, I'm done with this book. Take it away. I'm done with this soup. Take it away. Generally, when I talk to Marmot Babe, he lowers his head and walks quickly by me, signing, I'm done. I'm done with Aunt. Take her away.

Facebook

I caved and joined Facebook. Be my friend.

I'm Back!

I got back from Europe last night, having gained a case of insomnia; a headband I love so much that Kirsten made a crew member on our ferry climb out onto a restricted deck area to get it back for me when it went flying off my head in the wind; and a boyfriend.

I traveled for 35 hours to get from Scotland back to Utah (let's not talk about the 11 hour layover in Dublin; it makes me weep), which was made worthwhile by my encounter with an old, Jamaican airline employee at JFK. He was in the elevator when I was switching terminals and he took it upon himself to see me safely to my gate. I could only understand about half of everything he said during his running, 15-minute commentary on the inner workings of the airport and his insistence that he would get me safely settled. I occasionally caught snatches of his gems, though, like, "I will take you. I do not want some crazy madman to run you down in this crosswalk. Follow me! Follow me!" and "Oh, you are doing so well, Princess!" (when I told him I already had my boarding pass). I hadn't asked him for help at all, and I didn't necessarily need his help, but it was awfully nice of him to take me in hand and pull me to the front of lines and past tension barriers to find my gate information (my flight arrangement was a little confusing) and send me to the right location. It confirmed the theme of the trip, which is People are Really Nice.