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.

Two Loads a Day

Our washing machine broke, and what a cause for rejoicing! We'd been wondering what to do with our overabundance of money lately. And since we're not in the mood for shelves to put our books on, or light fixtures to cover the bare bulbs that are still hanging in every room of the house, and we're not really that into paying bills, either, we were so glad when the washing machine suddenly needed replacing, as it gave us some direction for our money spending.

Since we moved into this house, washing laundry has been a community affair. Not in the same sense as it is in some places in India (as seen on The Amazing Race), or Africa. No, we don't all wash our laundry together like they do in those places, but it's just that all the neighbors were aware when the Pawliks were washing laundry. This is because our washing machine was apparently fitted with some device that caused it to be significantly louder and more rumbly than was remotely necessary for it to fulfill it's function. The obvious reason for this special feature was to give people living within a 1/2 mile radius an idea of the amount of laundry we do. (See post title if you're curious, too, and don't live within a 1/2 mile radius of us)

The best way to illustrate this is to share a conversation I overheard when David and his friend Kacper were playing in the front yard. The bathroom window was open and the laundry was washing. The spin cycle starts and Kacper says, "What's that?" David answers, "Oh, that's just the washing machine." "No way is that a washing machine. OH! I know, it's just a train." We live right near the train tracks, so when one goes by it's quite loud and shaky, and David could NOT convince Kacper that this was actually our laundry going.

So anywho, we had to go get a new one. I'm a terrible shopper and this is definitely the worst kind of shopping for me. There were probably 30+ washing machines to choose from. Ugh. I eventually decided we should just choose one with the awesomest name brand. In the end it was a toss up between "Mastercook" and "Candy." I just could NOT decide which one I loved more (which name, that is--it really was that bad, almost) so we ended up getting an Indesit. Don't know anything about the brand, but it looked cool (by European standards, anyway). Yes, this is the way Greg and Lisa make decisions when buying major household appliances.

Besides looking awesome, it's heavy on the innovation. There's no making a bajillion decisions with each load. It's just load, add your cleaning agent of choice (into the door, which is way cooler and cleaner than having a separate drawer for it), and push two buttons. Look how easy:

That's not my hand or anything, but it's even that easy when I do it at home. There should be an infomercial for this washing machine on the shopping network that shows some lady with masses of hair leaning over her regular washing machine with a puzzled and frustrated expression on her face, pushing lots of buttons and giving all sorts of sighs and grumblings and sticking out her lower jaw and lip in order to blow the hair away from her face in exasperation. At which point she is finally presented with this washing machine which is the answer to all her time consuming, confusion inducing laundry struggles. I would volunteer to be the actress in this infomercial, except that now there's never any hair coming down in my face (reason #296 that I hate my bangs: lost acting opportunities)...

So it's super easy to use, which will be good for Greg for the two weeks a year that he washes laundry, while I'm in the States with the kids. Plus, this model is called "moon" and Greg loves astronomy, so that was actually the main reason we got it.

I had a sneaking suspicion that it was all too good to be true, and I found I was right the first time we used it. It was WAAAAAY too quiet! What is that all about? What will the neighbors think of us? That we suddenly stopped washing our clothes? That will never do! I'm too shy to knock on their doors to tell them what the deal is, so instead, every time I start a load, I'm just going to raise a big flag with the words "we're currently washing laundry" (translated into Polish, of course) on the pretty, pretty telephone pole in front of our house. I'm really surprised actually, that I've come up with such a good solution. While it might not be that convenient, especially when it's raining/snowing, it's much cheaper than having someone come in to fit this model with the same noise and shake enhancing device that our old one had.

*Yes, I just wrote an entire post about our washing machine, and yes, if you're reading this, you probably actually read the whole thing. Crazy. And YES, you will soon see my hair and glasses! Promise! Oh, and please answer my poll question, because it's for a very important study I'm doing. Or actually, it's just because I'm really curious. And aren't you glad that I finally figured out how to get pictures off the Internet to add to my posts so you can finally see some really interesting pictures of things like washing machines and people pushing buttons on washing machines? I knew you would be!

Meanies "Я" Us

We sent an email to our family and friends recently that was just plain hilarious. In this post I would like to justify the sending of this letter, and include some statistics on responses we received to it. (If you didn't get it, you can scroll down past the stars and read it here, if you like. It's really not that interesting but you'll at least see what the hulabaloo is about)

I admit the idea was mine. It started innocently enough, and I had written a few misleading lines, followed by an explanation. Greg said it needed to be dragged on a bit. So I dragged it on a bit, or possibly more. I kind of thought the subject of the email would be a good enough hint to get people in the proper frame of mind before they started reading. Still, I started to think that maybe it wasn't all that funny. After all, it's a pretty serious thing to joke about. And I remember what it's like to hear that people you care about really are going through something like that. But I did a test run, and was told, after that person recovered, that I should send it. Greg also insisted that it was "all about the shock factor", so I did send it, with a slight sense of trepidation.

To give you an idea of what our family and friends thought of it, here are some snippets from the responses we received to this email:

2 uses of the word "crap"
1 use of the word "flippin'"
2 callings of the name "stinker"
1 near fainting
1 reminder that it wasn't April
1 calling of "time out"
6 claims it induced one or more heart attacks (or partial attacks)
1 person shaken up a bit
2 "not funny"s
1 use of the term "idioci!" (that's idiots, in case you couldn't tell)
1 threat of sending us their hospital bill
many, many capitalizations and exclamation marks
And
1 wonderful and lovely person who knows us best who "[has] seen this coming for a long time"

I recently read on a friend's blog (a former mission companion--and current friend of Greg's named Vaughn) a post I enjoyed entitled "Badly Needed Senses of Humor" about how we need to be able to laugh at ourselves and not take offense so easily. It refers to a "lighthearted sense of humor." I'm afeared that this little Pawlik Prank didn't really fall into that category. Oops! I wish his title had been "Needed: Bad Senses of Humor" because I'd be feeling great right about now!

Well, I still think the idea was funny. We'll just be sure, next time, that we make it a little more obvious and shoot for the confusion factor. Or possibly wait until April and stick with the shock factor.

We do apologize to anyone who was affected by this more than we intended for them to be!

And nerd pictures are coming up next week.

******************************************************************************
Subject: change of address

There is some important news that Greg and I feel we need to convey to you all.

We've been sharing together for nearly 11 years. 11 years of complete unity. We both agree that overall, our union has been successful in many ways. It was really going well for a long time. After 11 years, however, it's becoming more and more apparent that things just aren't working out. Our lives are just so busy and overcrowded. Sometimes it's almost like we are together in name only, but in reality, we function completely separately. Lisa's into blogging and keeping up with her family, and Greg is occupied with work and Church responsibilities. Since we're really just each doing our own thing, it really isn't practical for us to try to keep it together anymore. We both agree that the time has come for us to separate. This is a pretty big decision, but we feel that it is the best one for both of us. We know we'll get used to it and hopefully our lives will be in better order than they have been thus far.

As we will now have different addresses, we wanted to update you on the changes so you can make a note of it in your address books. We are writing to you from the address that will be Lisa's, -----------. Greg's has now changed to ---------------, or ------------- ,both will send his messages to the same place. Please make a note of the change in your address books! Of course, Lisa is still willing to forward anything that comes in for Greg to him, if you forget.

Apart from our email addresses though, we STILL are completely united! We still share almost everything else, except our toothbrushes! What? Oh, I hope you didn't think I was talking about our relationship earlier on in this letter. I guess I should have mentioned that I was referring to our situation with our joint email account. But, come on! You know us better than to think that anything could be amiss between us! (I hope I don't give anyone a heart attack with this. If I do, please forgive me!)

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.

Blog Accessories

I came across a blog recently that had this type speed test in the sidebar. I took the test a few times and thought it was rather comical. I know that I type around 40wpm when I'm on a roll, but this test flattered me that I typed 59! That's more like what my mother types. It was fun, though, so I posted it in my own sidebar for people who a) like typing and fun or b) are competitive and want to try and beat my score.

Today I tried to beat my own score and made it to 67. As I was posting that in my sidebar, I realized again that I don't really dig the bright green of the number it displays, as it doesn't jive with the color scheme of my blog. Greg's been giving me little lessons in HTML (and I had already removed the "speed test" subtext because, as we all know, I can't stand having unnecessary words anywhere, like for example in parenthesis in the middle of a paragraph with so much writing in it that you can't for the life of you remember what I was talking about before the parenthesis began--I would never do that, so in keeping with my vocabularically conservatory nature, I removed that "speed test") and I saw that I could change the color, and I happened to have the color code for a lovely plum shade* that I like sitting right next to the computer, so I changed the color. (let me catch my breath...hoo...hoo...hoo... okay)

Then I noticed the number 67 sitting there. There it sat. And I started to wonder. And I decided that, really, I think I type more like 144 wpm. And I changed it. And hit save. And suddenly I was the fastest typer I knew--until I remembered that, besides just my non-extravagance in word usage, I am also extremely honest. So I changed it back.

But I love tests like that. Like on facebook where I proudly display the "fact" that my IQ is 120. According to the facebook IQ test. Why didn't we have tests like these in high school? These are the kinds of tests--and especially results-- I can deal with. And probably the type that will get me far in life. Definitely farther than "apples are to plums as helicopters are to __?" That's not even helping me out when I go shopping.

On the same blog I found a site where you just enter your blog's URL and it tells you what reading level your blog is. They've got some FAST reading kids helping them out over there. It took about 3 seconds for them to read my entire blog. This one right here with hardly any words on it. I'm not displaying the results of that one in my sidebar because I don't want you all to feel ashamed about reading a blog with a junior high school reading level, since none of you are in junior high. And I don't want you all going off to find some more clever blog to read, either (like one with a "graduated-from-University-years-ago reading level"). So let's not dwell on the results of that one.

So I just wanted to establish these facts: I love sidebars; I plan, somehow, eventually to make mine all exciting; and I never write (or speak, for that matter) more than is absolutely necessary. Now we know.

*I just changed it again to periwinkle. I LOVE periwinkle.

Let Them Eat Cake...First Thing in the Morning

Muffins! Mmmmm. I think muffins are one of my favorite inventions. Cake for breakfast!! Well, it's not like the idea of a regular cake or cookies or brownies being meant for dessert has ever stopped me from eating one or three for breakfast, but with muffins I at least have the satisfaction of knowing that they're meant for breakfast. Someone, who I don't know, but I definitely love, deemed chocolate chocolate chip muffins most-important-meal-of-the-day worthy.

So I have always loved muffins. Growing up, I remember them only as a part of dinner. Onion and cheese muffins. Yum. I don't think we did breakfast muffins, though. Maybe that's why I'm a little obsessed with muffins now. Back in the day when we were living in the good ol' US I would buy muffins from bakeries and at the grocery store. Now that we live a bit too far from those bakeries, I must make my own.

I have been in constant search of good muffin recipes for years now. You may remember that I like chocolate. Particularly chocolate baked into stuff. Well, apart from the (mediocre) apple cinnamon muffins that I've always made, I have generally concentrated my efforts on finding good recipes that contain that addictive substance. Chocolate muffins. Peanut butter chocolate chip muffins. Banana chocolate chip. Cinnamon chocolate chip. You get the idea.

But there's one problem. I want my muffins to be pretty. I understand the whole "it's what's inside that counts" and everything, but I can't help judging a muffin by it's appearance. I like them to be pretty. AND I want them to taste good and be sweet enough and not to be too dry or too light and fluffy. I have found three muffin recipes that I like enough to make over and over. And I'm going to share them with you.

The first one is for chocolate yogurt muffins which I found at Cookie Madness, where Anna bakes something new every.single.day. A girl after my own heart. These are just a good, basic double chocolate muffin. I've tried probably 8 different double chocolate muffins and these are my favorite. They're pretty, just dense and sweet enough and even David, who isn't a big muffin or chocolate fan, likes them.

I also decided to grow up a bit and try using fruit in my muffins, making them slightly healthier. We had some raspberries we couldn't eat fast enough so I baked some into these raspberry-topped lemon muffins, which I found at Smitten Kitchen (where she will tell you where she got it). These were not so very pretty and a little bit more like a cupcake as far as sweetness and lightness, but my-oh-my did we like them. I don't eat a lot of raspberries plain, but I adored them in these muffins. It's a little backwards in that all the sweetness in these muffins is in the lemon part and all the tartness is in the raspberries. I loved getting a raspberry in these 20 times more than I ever loved getting a chocolate chip in any other baked good, ever. Yes, this is still Lisa speaking. Next time I make them I will quadruple (or so) the amount of raspberries. I'll make more than 12 muffins and just stuff them full of raspberries instead of just setting them on the top. Too bad it's after 11pm because I sort of need to go to the farmers market and get some and make these NOW!

And now for my final muffin. I think I saved the best for last. I found this one at Sugar Plum, where Emiline, whose name I love, makes up all her own recipes. When I first started reading food blogs, I didn't get how everyone could just post a recipe from a cookbook on their blog. Now I sort of think that it's a bit like an advertisement for the book, in a way, but Emiline feels the way I did, and only posts recipes she's written herself, which is awesome. I've made a number of them and they're really good.

So I had a jar of cherries that were about to get old and David had been begging me to let him drink the juice from them (?) and I remembered that Emiline had posted about these bada-bing muffins with ginger-oat streusel so I decided to make them, substituting my jarred cherries for the fresh ones it calls for. I also didn't have (and never have had) any crystallized ginger, so I omitted it, and used oil in the muffin instead of melting butter. They were FANTASTIC. Ugly as ever a muffin was (sorry Emiline!), but so extremely tasty. We love them. I pack these with extra cherries, too.

So if you happen to have read all the way through this post, it is very likely only because you care about muffins. So if you do, and you have a favorite muffin recipe you'd like to recommend, I would love you forever if you told me about it in the comments. And I mean forever.

Drapers Know Best

Some years ago, our brother in-law recommended Gmail to us. I believe he even sent us an invitation. He had told us all the advantages of joining up including all manner of numbers and statistics (Tom? Numbers? NEVER!!) about things like megarams and gigaseconds. We contemplated and considered, weighing all the pros and cons in various pertinent categories. How did it compare with our current service as far as its organization, userability and storage space. Gmail won out in all of these areas. But there was one ultra-important consideration that would trump all others: would it be easier, short term, to switch to the far superior Gmail or to keep our current account? We stuck with hotmail. (Remember us? Lazy and Lazier?)

A month or two later Greg's boss sent him an invitation to join Gmail. Suddenly nothing made more sense than to join right up. So we did. And we love Gmail. And at some point we remembered that, Oh, yeah. Tom already told us all about this.

A month or so ago, Tom's better half told me about how she used Google Reader to alert her when there had been any recent posting on the blogs she reads. Oh, Google Reader isn't for me, I told her. I'm really into blogging, and therefore must do all my blog searching by hand. I explained to her about the suspense before getting onto someone's blog and wondering-- did they or didn't they? They DID! Or, nope, on to the next blog. Then the next and the next. What a way to spend an hour (give or take--usually give) in the morning. Then another in the afternoon, and one more before bed. No, Google Reader would completely disrupt my way of life.

So this morning I go to check and see if one of my fellow tagees (who I do not know) from the mom tag, Sharon, has done hers with her kid. She hadn't, but she did mention about how she uses Google Reader. Google Reader! What a great idea! I went straight into looking it up and started subscribing to all my favorite blogs. This is wonderful! I can still find out if anyone has posted lately, but now it takes 3 seconds to find out, intstead of 3,000. How much less time I will spend on the computer! Imagine all the books I can read to my kids! Think of the fun we'll have making crafts together! How great will it be to go to the park before it gets too hot! I'll be a better mother. My kids will learn more. We'll be amazing! We'll be a lot like Su and....her.... kids. Oh. That's right. NOW I get why Su is such a great mom. Google Reader!

So, uh, note to self: when the Drapers recommend something a) it will very likely be something run by Google* (this one isn't that important to remember) and b) listen to them! (this is the one we want to stick).

*This just reminded me that she was also trying to get me to blog (using Blogger--Google!) for a year or so before I started, and we all know how much I hate blogging. Another bad recommendation!

*I know some people are afraid Google is planning to take over the world, but seriously. It's either China or Google. Google or China. Hmmm, forced 16 hour days in a sweat shop or the promotion of workplace fun and creativity? And think how organized and efficient the world will be, and how well everyone will keep in touch with each other. C'mon, join Gmail. Use Google Reader. Get on Blogger. Your vote counts! Thwart China!

*This SO was not meant to be a post about Google! I only noticed it was when I wrote that note to self at the very end! So it looks like the company is establishing its gradual world domination by affecting our sub-concious as well. And apparently the Drapers are in on the whole thing!

Seeking Therapy

I know that I probably need therapy for many reasons, but for now, I'm just thinking about it for my kids.

Today, just as I was about to get in the shower, I suddenly heard screaming from outside. In a second, I recognized it as coming from Ewelina. I quickly threw on my clothes, assuming the whole time that the screaming would abate, but it did not. I ran outside.

David was running from the kids' "baza" or "base"--their hideout in the field across the street from our house. I kept running and David showed me how to get in through the tall grass to get to Evie, who was still screaming. I'm thinking "broken bone, dog attack, torture by monsters"- something terrible. I came through the weeds and saw that she was sitting on one of the little green plastic chairs that they'd taken there, holding on to her foot. She told me that she thought a bee had stung her. I looked at her foot and saw that, indeed, there was a tiny little stinger that looked more like an itsy bitsy sliver stuck in the arch of her left foot. I carried her wailing and sobbing, on my back, back to our house. (To find that we were locked out, but that part of the story doesn't really go with the rest of this post, so I'm leaving it out--er, I meant to).

For those of you who have spent any extended amount of time with my children, you already know how they can freak out at times. Like when a fly buzzes anywhere near them. Or when a puppy, not to mention a full grown chihuahua glances in their direction (these are David's). Or maybe it's the anticipation of a visit to the dentists office, or getting a sliver--or (and this causes 20 times the level of out-freaking) the thought of having that sliver removed!

Any of these things will cause my children to cry. Possibly to scream, and just generally wig out. When they were smaller, we thought it was just the normal childhood phobias. We tried being very understanding and supportive. We held them and soothed them. Then we tried being practical and instructive, showing by our own calm manner and explanations why everything was okay, and how best to deal with the situation. We tried various combinations of these two techniques. Sometimes we have resorted to a third: threatening and shouting. Admittedly, the threatening and shouting were not used so much as a "technique" but rather came out of our frustration and sense of helplessness, and search for any way to get them to calm down. (All good parents know that threats DO sometimes work.)

It's entirely possible some of you are thinking "Yelling at a kid who is afraid of something?" But that would only be because you haven't been around during some of these fits. They are entirely out of control. They care not for empathy. They care not for guidance. They care not for threatenings. Left to themselves the hysteria continues indefinitely. They are in their own little world of terror, and we don't know how to bring them out of it. That's why I think I need to take them to a counselor.

Evie sobbed and cried for about 20 minutes until Greg came and opened the door for us, and then kicked it back up to hysteria for the 10 minutes before she would let me remove it, when we actually had to force her down so I could do it, or we would have waited endlessly until she felt "ready". It took a quarter of a second and she didn't feel a thing. I know a bee sting is a scary thing (though I've never had one), but this just reminded me of the other panic attacks and made me wonder what kind of a doctor we need to take our kids to.

Mom Tag

I've seen this before, so when Andrea tagged me on it, I thought I would do it, even though it really needs a 3 or 4 year old to make it great. A sassy 6 year old works too, I guess. David's answers are first, then I did Evie, too.

What is something mom always says to you? "David, bring Aaron's blanky, and his pacifier" "Clean up"

What makes mom happy? When we are peeling the potatoes. You said that it was a blessing. "cards from me"

What makes mom sad? (after 5 minutes of thinking) When I play too much games on the computer. "When I fight with David"

How does mom make you laugh? When you tickle me, and tickle and tickle, so giggly. "by saying something funny on accident"

What was mom like as a child? "She was cute and sweet and nice. "silly, I guess"

How old is mom? 82? "31"

How tall is mom? 22 cm (after poking me and counting from my feet to my head) 'metr osiemdziesiat siesc. That might be really tall, I dont' know."

What is mom's favorite thing to do? She likes to play with Aaron outside, kind of. And checking emails. "bake and read"

What does mom do when you're not around? She plays with Aaron. "watches TV"

If mom becomes famous, what will it be for? That you exercise every day and you change Aaron's diaper. "for fun"

What is mom really good at? She's very good at checking emails. "making dinner"

What is mom not very good at?  I don't know."Polish. Speaking Polish"

What is mom's job? Teaching me at home. For now. "she doesn't work, oh, oh, oh, taking care of the kids"

What is mom's favorite food? Everything? Sweet and sour chicken? "not pizza...enchiladas?"

What makes you proud of mom? That you teach me how to jumprope, kind of. "she doesn't get frustrated very often"

If mom were a cartoon character, who would she be? She would be Cinderella ([I asked him why]because you have like a sweet little voice and you have a nice dress)"Velma--you look lik her, but you're different"

What do you and mom do together? Play games. "play games, learn and jumprope."

How are you and mom the same? We're both funny (giggle, giggle) "we both have glasses. We're the only girls in thefamily"

How are you and mom different? I'm smaller and she's bigger. She's a girl, I'm a boy. And she wears earrings. "you have pierced ears and I don't. And you're big and I'm small."

How do you know mom loves you? Because she plays games with me and she tickles me. "she loves playing with me and And she's just my mom."

This is really meant to be for one kid, but I wanted to include Evie's answers to have a bit of seriousness. She and David TOTALLY tag Brian B., Isaac J., Lily D. (or her little sister), Ethan W., Ella (KC's niece) and Zeeb (or Calvin) K.--only if their mothers want to help them out, of course, but we would LOVE to see what they think of their mommies!

**David actually thought I was 82. I asked him to be serious (he was joking for many of his answers) and he said "83?"
**Yesterday the kids peeled potatoes for the first time, and were excited about it. I was very glad because I abhor peeling potatoes, though I love eating them, and I now have my own potato peelers. While we were eating I told Greg that the kids had peeled the potatoes for me. David jumped in with "mom said it was a blessing". I took some convincing, but I guess I DID say that. Good reminder that kids will always remember more of what you say than you do.
**I have neither a sweet little voice nor a nice dress, but I am like Cinderella in some ways--I do slave away all day, and I did win me a handsome prince!

Estrangement

It appears as though I may have damaged my relationship with spell checker beyond repair. I never meant to offend him. That post was only meant as a playful, teasy thing. Still, since about that time, spell checker has been refusing me his services, with a sort of, "You obviously don't appreciate and value me, so why should I work for you?" attitude.

I now understand that maybe spell checker does have (and is entitled to) an opinion, and the one he has of me is very low, I guess. He doesn't even want to associate with me. I can't say that I blame him. That was rather rude of me to trash talk him to all of you right in front of his... microchips, or whatever.

So I am sending out this brief message by way of apology, in hopes that we can make up and and that SC will stop giving me these blank stares whenever I click on the "ABC check".

Is blogger's spell check still working for you?

[OH MY HECK] I just hit spell check after writing this, and for the first time in **weeks** I got some yellow highlighting from it. 95% of the words were highlighted! Ninety-five! (or so) It's TOTALLY communicating with me! I have no idea what it's trying to say, though. Maybe, "you want highlighting? I'll give you highlighting!" Or maybe it's trying to make up for all the words it hasn't highlighted for me over the weeks?

They Don't Know What They're Missing

In Poland there is one kind of chocolate cake: the cream filled W Z-tka [voo-zet-kah]. Most every bakery sells this cake. There are various other cakes that might be classified as "chocolate", but the cocoa is used more as a coloring agent than for purposes of flavoring (measured in tea or tablespoons, rather than cups) and they are often smothered in fruit or nuts. Apart from the W-Ztka, if you see any dark brown cake or a cake with a dark layer, you can be fairly sure that it is made with poppy seeds, often ground ones. I know this because the first year or two after we moved here, when I was still excited about trying new things, I ordered lots of them, expecting chocolate each time. You (most likely) have no idea what it's like to bite into a cake expecting chocolate and get poppy seeds.

To me, ground poppy seeds taste almost exactly the way an old, unused attic smells. In a word, I think it tastes like dust. This isn't the hyperbole-prone Lisa speaking in her usual terms of exaggeration. I feel sure that if you offered me a cake made with ground poppy seeds, side by side with a cake that had been seasoned with all the dust that could be swept off the old bikes, broken furniture and boxes of outgrown clothing in any given attic, I would be unable to determine which was which.

Generally speaking, when I bake something and give it to Polish people, they are surprised by how sweet or rich it is (nobody has yet mentioned how dust-free it tastes). This makes sense, since all the cakes and cookies you get here are dry and not very sweet. I have learned to like many of them, but I far prefer American treats. I have been given recipes for some Polish cakes that I have liked in the past, and have been astonished at how much butter they contain. How can a cake with so much fat taste so little like a dessert? At least now I know not to let myself feel all healthy when eating Polish goodies. That piece of orzechowiec may contain raspberries, and may be twice as tall as a brownie cut the same size, but because it is so dry and crumbly, it probably has about the same mass as the shorter brownie, and still contains more than twice the fat in the brownie!

Fortunately, Greg's family loves American desserts. One of their favorites is a chocolate sheet cake, which they have had a few times in the past while they've been visiting us. The last time they came I made some brownies (the ooey gooey ones in my sidebar) and Greg's sister mistook them for the sheet cake! One is dense and fudgy and one is light and moist! One is frosted and sprinkled with toasted almonds, the other is plain with chocolate chunks inside. I suppose they're both very chocolaty, sweet and moist, and all three of those things make them different from Polish cakes, so I should be more understanding. But can you imagine not appreciating the difference between brownies and cake? That's why I think it's a crime that there is even such a thing as "cake like" brownies. BAKE A CAKE if you want cake, instead of adding extra eggs (or whatever) to turn your brownies into one.

The same thing has happened with chocolate crinkle cookies and double chocolate mint cookies being mistaken for each other. I will admit that I do stick to a theme in my baking, so that may make it a little difficult for the less discerning palate, but still. Well, to be fair,I guess if someone offered me some makowiec, and then some fancy, layer cake (and assuming, for the sake of this example, that I didn't kindly decline, and was careful not to make any gagging sounds), I might get them mixed up too. A Pole might love the glaze on one and the contrast of the layer of yeast cake in the other, but to me all I'll ever taste is dust.

*It should be noted that I have nothing against poppy seeds in moderation (in muffins, on breads/rolls etc.), and in their whole form. I should also add that Greg LOVES the taste of ground poppy seeds. He simply adores the INTENSE poppy seed cake his mother makes at christmas time. It contains ground poppy seeds, sugar, eggs, almond flavouring and little (if anything)else. Maybe a little flour. I'm not sure, as it is NOT one of the recipes I've asked for.

Miss America

I do. (Not I am.) Especially on days like today. I've always been a patriotic person, but living abroad has brought my patriocity to a new level. Now I don't just love being American and have a sense of pride for my country's history, but I also see more than ever where that history has brought us, and what it really means to be an American. That probably sounds a little silly, but it's true. I won't elaborate further because it's 11:43 and my bedtime is 10:30 and plus I hardly slept last night because of a lovely, but very loud thunderstorm.

As we do every year, we had a little devotional and talked about America's beginnings and our blessings. We also sang "America the Beautiful" with Rory the Lion (the patriotic, singing feline my mom brought to us 6 years ago) like we do every year, but this year we also got to read the words of that lovely poem and look at some beautiful pictures of scenes of America and it's past, in a book she sent this year.

It was raining all day so there was no barbecue. Okay, there wouldn't have been one anyway, but at least we had an excuse. We did have hamburgers, though, and the kids helped make some onion rings. Yum! And of course we tried to do some themed treats as well. I'm really not creative, but here are some of the things we came up with. It's hard to see in the picture, but the kids made these gigantic fire crackers which have bits of crepe paper as the sparks coming off the "lit" fuse.

Then we remembered about sparklers! We COULD have fireworks in Poland on the 4th of July, for the first time! I have a strange suspicion that this happens every year, the whole last minute, "Oh my gosh! Sparklers! We can do sparklers! Finally a 4th of July with fireworks!" thing. The kids helped make the jell-o and cookies as well as the onion rings. I was glad it was raining, because there was plenty to do indoors today!

I hope you are all having/have had a wonderful fourth of July and appreciate living in the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave (if you do). Three cheers for the Red, White and Blue!

Or the Pink, White and Purple, if you're going by my jell-o. C'mon, we did the best we could with what we had. And I actually appreciate that there is no blue jell-o to be had in Poland.

Cool or Nerdy?

I've already mentioned that I wasn't popular growing up. I was never less so than when we moved from Utah to southern California. I was in the socially important sixth grade and I was the only girl without bangs. You remember, the big poofy kind with a half a can of hair spray keeping it's upper reaches hovering 15 inches above your forehead. Yeah, I didn't have those. At least not until we had lived there for a couple of months. Then I saw the necessity. I remember when I came to school with my new cut bangs, styled the requisite 15 inches over my head, one of the girls in my class actually spoke to me. She said, "Your hair looks much better that way." I remember taking that as a compliment.

There was one other thing that was different about me when we first moved there that may also have contributed to my initial appearance of nerdiness. That was that I spent every second of every recess jump roping (I hate the term "jumping rope" so, if you don't, please get used to "jump roping", if only for this post. I've already separated the words for spell checker's sake, although I like "jumproping" the best). I know almost every girl jump ropes at some point in Elementary school, but by sixth grade, it's really no longer the thing. Or even one of the things.

In Utah I had been on a jump rope team, or jump team (the Jumpin' Jazz) in my Elementary school through 5th grade and the first three months of 6th, at which point we moved. Many of my friends were on the team. We practiced after school, learned tons of cool tricks and made up routines to our favorite music. We had "jumpathons" and did "Jump rope for Heart" at the Rec Center. I really loved it. Plus we got out of class every once in a while to do a show at nearby elementary schools or malls. It was considered a pretty cool thing (I think).

Once in California, even if it wasn't considered cool to jump rope in sixth grade, a few of my friends started jumping with me and everyone had to admit that those tricks were pretty cool. Of course they never did admit it in so many words, but they left me alone, and, with sixth graders, that itself shows that I was okay by them. Well, Michael Durbin and his friends would always call out to me in high pitched voices, "Jazz! Jazz! Jumpin' Jazz!", but I admit that I provoked this, as I repeatedly wore my uniform top to school. As the year wore on girls in the younger grades would point at me as I passed in the halls or come up and watch me jump during recess, sometimes asking for tips. It was kind of cute to have a little fan club. Needless to say, you could see WAY more jump ropes turning during recess by the end of the year than when I first got there.

Of course, the next year I went to Jr. High where I did NOT jump rope in between classes, but I was happy whenever I passed my old Elementary school during recess time (not sure exactly why or how this would have happened, since I was supposed to be at school myself, but I remember that it did happen) and saw that there were still tons of girls (that's many thousands of pounds of girls) jump roping.

My own children have not taken to jump roping until this summer. As in-they jump rope with significantly less skill than their peers. This is mostly because I spent the last two summers either pregnant or with a newborn and therefore had very little desire to "get ready for the day"and take my kids down the 9 stories to the playground to sit with them while they practiced. That's how lazy I am. But we're going to reeeeeeeally make up for it this summer. I've decided that I want to jump rope every day for my exercise. I started yesterday with about 5-10 minutes of not-so-continuous jumping. When Greg got home from work, I told him that you can totally feel how good jump roping is for you, because, apart from the wonders it works aerobically, my leg muscles hurt while I was jumping, and my arms started to, too. His reply- "Well, I haven't been jump roping and my back hurts, so NOT jump roping must be good for you, too."

Then I got this great idea, which I shared with my husband. I thought it would be fun to offer jump roping lessons to kids in the neighborhood. I was thinking that it would be a great summer activity to keep kids active, doing something different, learning a new skill, making new friends etc. Greg wasn't all that excited about it and asked, "Do you think there's a market for it?" It sounded like he kind of meant, "Do you think parents have been waiting for the day someone would finally offer jump roping lessons?" But, like in elementary school, people just have to get used to the idea.

I think it's kind of like with tap dancing. I've always had this secret desire to learn to tap dance well. I imagine myself tapping alone in a big room, just tapping and tapping and dancing and dancing all around the floor, purely for the joy it brings me. I don't imagine this will ever happen anyway, and I think Greg thinks tap dancing is very dorky. I think he secretly feels the same way about jump roping, although, like the elementary kids, he will admit that some of the tricks are cool.

For me, I will say: sky high bangs? dorky (obviously). Jump roping well? Cool. Tap dancing well? Potentially very cool (but I can see how people think it's a bit tacky, too).