Wow! I was looking at the date from my last blog and thinking, "It hasn't been THAT long, has it?" Well it has. More importantly...the guys at "alienware" have had my laptop that long. My husband has called them numerous times only to hear the response, "Well we asked for an update from the techies but we haven't heard anything yet. We don't know what to tell you. You should hear from someone soon. Have a nice day." He sicked some sort of watchdog company on them so we'll see. As my grandfather used to say, "That'll learn 'em!"

On a lighter subject, I told myself to write this down today because it made me laugh. I think I'm going to change the title of my blog from "wassif" to "God is laughing at me." I was driving home from the mall where my 4-year-old has his drumset submitted in a drum show. He plays pretty good for a 4-year-old. As we're driving through the rainy countryside he busies himself with a Darth-Vader mask and asks me, "Will I be Andy's father?" (Andy is our 1-year-old) I respond, "No, honey. Daddy is Andy's father."
"Well then who's father will I be?"
"I don't know, honey. You'll get married one day and have children of your own and you will be THEIR father." He then proceeds to put on the Darth-Vader mask and, using his best evil Sith-Lord voice says, "Oh. Okay."

Let's just hope he doesn't rule his home like Darth-Vader when he's a father.

Wassif we live in a Funeral Home?


I had the UNIQUE opportunity to touch base with my dear friend, Wendy, while she was in town Sunday and it turns out her sister (who she was visiting) lives in the (only)Funeral Home in town.
Let me preface this thought with the fact that when I first moved to this town I drove around and admired some of the really old homes that were still standing. When I drove past the funeral home I didn't immediately know that it was a funeral home so I said, "Wow! I wonder who lives in THAT house? It's gorgeous!" It's very old, stately manor. It is white in color, boasts some nice columns along the front, and has a very long walkway from the sidewalk up the green grassy hill to the front door. After driving past it again I saw the sign somewhere on the side and felt a bit sheepish.

So I popped in last night and got the grand tour. Luckily for me there weren't any people in the "viewing room" and I didn't get a peek in the embalming room. Not that I didn't want to, but the others with me were definitely NOT going near it and I didn't want to seem like the odd girl who isn't creeped out by this.

There was a funky door upstairs which opened up only to be blocked off by an additional window. If the window wasn't there you could walk out onto the rooftop, but someone along the way must've decided that was a safety hazard. There were 3 floors plus an attic and lots of doors connecting most of the rooms. I love old houses!

This place used to be a hospital. Then it was converted into a home, and then a funeral home. It was built in the 1800's and still has a painting I believe is original to the home. If walls could talk I wonder what this house would say? I wondered who lived there, who went there when it was a hospital, and what stories could be told. I have to admit, though, as I was walking from the door to my car in the dark...I got a little jittery! I need to be more secure about some things in life before being able to live in a place where death is openly welcome. To those who live there...more power to you! Keep up the good work! Oh, and....BOO!

Whose fault is it?



It's the baby's fault for dumping the water all over the laptop keyboard.

It's the four-year-old's fault for requesting a glass of water and leaving it on the coffee table behind the laptop.

It's my own fault for not seeing the glass and removing it the night before.

It's my husband's fault for not keeping a better eye on the baby.

It's the glass manufacturer's fault for making such an attractive glass which the four-year-old couldn't resist.

It's the fault of whoever invented glass.

It's the fault of the sand that created the glass.

Ultimately it doesn't matter whose fault it is. The fact remains that my laptop is ruined and on its way to Virginia to be pulled apart by some teenage techie who will then proceed to call me and tell me that it will cost only slightly less to fix it than it will to buy a new system.

I'd love to go to the day-spa and get a nice relaxing massage. The only thing not relaxing about the day-spa is the big fat wad of cash I have to part with when it's over. Imagine it...the ambient music, the people serving you water or tea, the low lights, candles, sweet aromas. You get that lovely massage with some essential oils, you're feeling relaxed. No worries in the world until you hear, "That will be...$" in that cute little 21-year-old girl voice. Suddenly you remember that laptop frying under the dripping water...little shocks running through the system...and before you know what hit you, your fist meets her cute little nose.

Wow. That was kind of violent! Even for me! Usually I know when I cross the line but I'm looking back and the line is waaaaay back there! Sorry! Let's get back on track, shall we?

On the plus side, I have recently had a very fun adventure which I'll blog about next. Two blogs in one day? Think of it! I have to catch up for lost time!

To Grandmother's house we go!

So we just got back from our family trip to my in-laws (which I LOVE) and here are some of the highlights!

We embarked on our journey around 5:00 where we left old "Beulah" behind and rented a nice new Taurus. We love Beulah, but she's getting on in her miles. She's already over 200 thousand miles old! Happy Birthday Beulah! Although she has served us faithfully for many years, (Mazda's are great!) we don't want to push her to travel so far across the mountains and on such a long trip. Go, Beulah, Go!

We drove past some wheat fields, some mint fields, even some onion fields. I love the scent of the crops as we pass them wafting into the car. We paused once to feed the baby and then arrived at our destination late at night. The boys slept well.

We went to the Puyallup Fair! Yeay! When we got there I was so happy to be there! My 4-year-old actually tried out a few rides. He rode on a train, in a car, and in a canoe. We sampled an onion burger, some carmel corn, and I found the much-sought-after fudge! The fudge was provided by a company called "Seattle Fudge" and I haven't tried it but I found out that you can order their fudge and have it sent anywhere! Way cool! So dad may be finding a little surprise in the mail very soon. After a few hours of squeezing our way through the crowds to see a few exhibits I became more interested in the people I was passing.

I come from a small community full of what I would consider "conservative-normal" people. Farmers, grocers, college students, parents, you know. Regular, run-of-the-mill people. I passed a woman on my way out of the fair that immediately brought to mind that Muppet favorite, "Lydia the tattooed Lady". She had tattoos everywhere! There were lots of "Goth" girls, and a few people that looked like they had been homeless their whole lives. I often see all of these different people and wonder what they do during the day in their lives. How do they feel about things? Are we all that different? Who knows? It was interesting.

On one of our "off" days when we had very little planned (it was a cold, rainy day) we found some wasp nests full of cold wasps trying to keep themselves safe in their nests. The unfortunate thing for them was that their nests were right above the entrances to the house. So we got to spray the wasps and watch them fall. Our four-year-old thought this was scary but all in all a good thing. Paper wasps are evil! Seriously, what eats those? I need to find out what bird preys on paper wasps and then provide a bird feeder specifically for that bird.

Our four-year-old shared his room with a 4 month old baby who awoke in the night for feedings. He was so sweet. His daddy said, "Does the baby wake you up much?" and our boy's response was, "Yeah, sometimes. But I just check on her to make sure she is okay...like this." And he proceeded to lift his head up the way he did from his bed to check on her in her crib and make sure she was okay. Awwww. Wipe away that tear.

If we weren't playing at the Children's Museum, Fair, or some mall playground I was in the house dragging my 10-month-old away from the plants, outlets, and dried peas on the floor under the table. I swept and vaccuumed the house for my mother-in-law which I was a little hesitant to do. I was afraid of that "What, am I not a good enough housekeeper?" But she actually said, "Oh good! I've been meaning to do that. I'm glad you did." So at least he wouldn't have any tidbits on the ground to eat. I am also so used to doing it daily in my own home (only since he started eating stuff off the floor) that it felt a little like a normal daily thing for me to do.

Honestly, the baby acts like he never gets fed! He will eat ANYTHING. Book pages, crumbs on the ground, peas, carrots, pasta, green beans, dead flies, anything he can grab fast enough to pop in his mouth. (Okay, he hasn't put any flies in his mouth...that I know of...but I know he has tried!) My four-year-old was a little more careful at that age. He is still a picky eater.

Our trip home was fun as I had purchased my very first "John Denver" CD's and have already converted my four-year-old into a John Denver song lover. He particularly likes "Leavin' on a Jet Plane" though I still like the Peter, Paul and Mary version of that song better. John Denver will always make me feel like my father is there singing. But that's a subject for another blog.

When we pulled into the drive my four-year-old said, "Mommy, can Grandma live next-door?" I said, "That would be nice." He proceeded to tell me who actually lived next door and how that wouldn't work. Every time I go to Olympia I look through the classifieds to see if there's a job posting that would work for my husband and we could just move there. I always feel like I'm coming home when I go there, though I've never lived there. The only problem is that my husband's current employer treats him SO WELL that nothing compares! If we found a comparable job in Olympia then we might consider it, but the chances of THAT happening are slim. And we sure like our little "normal" community out here in farm-country U.S.A.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig!

There's a reason why "boys" rhymes with NOISE. My 4 year old boy is only quiet when he's asleep. My 10 month old has even picked up on the gaeity of noisemaking and has taken to singing, howling, and the usual mindless babbling. It makes for a lot of fun when I'm on the phone with my mother. Throughout the conversation I find myself wandering from room to room just to find a quiet place...to no avail. Trailing behind me are my 2 little ducklings. One asking a million questions like "Mommy, who is it? What is she saying? Tell her that I got sick once and I kept throwing up and I had to go to the hospital and they had to put a sharp thing in my arm and I got better. Hey! Hey mom! Mommy, watch this!" The baby just wants mommy to pick him up so he yells at me whenever I'm in his sights. It doesn't matter that daddy is available to hold him.

I relented and stayed in the living room so I could keep the baby from hurting himself. They both decided to play the piano while I was on the phone and I thought to myself that as much as their noise is inconvenient at times, one day I'll be in my mother's place wishing for the days when the kids were at home making a little noise. There's nothing like the big picture to make life a little sweeter.

I tried to explain to my 4 year old that the constant noises were sometimes annoying and that we don't generally communicate in that manner. When I said, "I don't call people on the phone and go..." (insert a variety of his favorite screams and nonsense words...one of which is "hansas". Don't ask me where it came from, but in order to properly use it you must make yourself sound a little like a freakishly loud Yoda. HANSAAAAAS!) He thought the whole idea was terribly funny. So funny, in fact, that he about fell off his seat laughing. Then, of course, he reinacted the event for the rest of the evening, pretending his hand was a phone up to his ear and saying the same flood of noises over again in the very sequence I came up with.

I'm reminded of the Dr. Seuss story about all the Whos down in Who-ville making so much noise. Oh the noise, noise, noise, noise! I wonder what it will be like in a year. Much more noise. I need to get used to noise. BOYS!

Wassif we go to the fair?

Ah yes. The annual Palouse Empire Fair. Second only to the annual National Lentil Celebration. Yes, folks. I live in the Lentil CAPITOL ... of the United States! So today we decided to subject the children to another visit to the Fair. In retrospect it was a little disappointing.

I recall a few joyous fairs I attended as a child. My father wouldn't leave without some choice fudge that a fudge vendor was selling. He would be sad to know that our humble fair had no fudge! The shock of such news might induce a heart attack quicker than the consumption of that rich fudge would have.

I also was hoping to enter a cross-stitched piece of artwork this year but found out one day too late that I'd missed the entry day. I have never entered anything in a fair before so I have a lot to learn. One thing I learned was that my 4 year old is not only afraid of dogs and cats, but pretty much any animal that isn't in a cage. My 10 month old thought it was fun just to be in a new place.

Next weekend we're going to go for the main event. The Puyallup fair. This is the big one! The grand-daddy of them all! Whenever I mention it to my friends their eyes get wide and they breathe out, "Oh...that's a huge fair!" I've never been to this particular fair but it apparently is large enough to have it's own rides up all year 'round and the fair lasts 2 weeks instead of our meager 2 days.

Perhaps my 4 year old will have miraculously overcome his insane fear of animals by the time we go to Puyallup and perhaps I will find a fabulous fudge vendor where I can purchase the best fudge in the county and send it to my father, the fudge-o-holic. At any rate, I love "fair season" and raise my glass to Fair-dom in general. Go to the fair! Hooray!

What's this word, "wassif"? I don't suppose it's familiar to many of you. I first encountered it in Colorado as I was serving a mission for my church. My mission president, the big guy in charge, would meet with us once a month and give us some words of encouragement and inspiration. He had a slow, raspy way of talking and it soon became a bit comical to those of us serving in the area. President Horne would often say, "Wassif we go out and teach everyone we come into contact with?" or "Hey, wassif this month we challenge ourselves to do a little better?" Soon the mission's cool new buzzword was "wassif"?

Of course, we used the term more loosely than it was originally intended. Soon we were saying, "Yo! Wassif?" "Hey, wassif, sister!" ...in greeting. Some elders even managed to video-tape the president (after being made aware of the phenomenon) saying very boldly "Waaas-iiifff!!" complete with two thumbs up and a cheezy grin.

It was not only hilarious to me for a good year, but "Wass-if" is now one of my favorite expressions. It brings to mind in it's original context what we can accomplish if we put our minds to it. So with a little inspiration and a little silliness, I've started my first blog entry.