Just be yourself?

 Common advice:

"Just be yourself."

I remember being in junior high and hearing people say that.  Everyone said that.  Seventeen magazine, of which I was an enthusiastic devotee, said it.  Teachers at school said it.  Posters with cute furry animals proclaimed it.

"Just be yourself."

It seemed so simple, so easy to follow the advice.  Just. Be. Yourself.

Except there was one little tiny problem.  I didn't know who "myself" was.  How could I follow the lights of someone that didn't know what lights to follow?  I didn't know my preferences.  I didn't know how to be successful in the treacherous waters of junior high.  Also, "myself" had huge glasses and braces and frizzy hair.  "Myself" was smart and got good grades but that was definitely not doing me any favors in the popularity department.  "Myself" was sort of shy and sort of awkward.  I didn't think being myself was going to help.

"Myself" was kind of a nerd.

I don't pretend to have figured out all there is to figure out about being authentic, being genuine.  I have learned some things though.

Last year, I wrote every day in October, for 31 days, about being grateful.  I enjoyed the challenge and believe it made me more grateful.  This month, I'm going to write about being authentic.  I am hoping it will help me in my quest to do the same. 

Books I read in September 2012

Swimming to Antarctica by Lynne Cox **

I read this book for book club.  It was a memoir.  It felt like homework to read it.  I persevered because it was for book club and because it was a compelling series of adventures.  They just all sort of blurred because there were so many of them.  Lynne Cox was a long distance swimmer and swam all over the world in inhospitable conditions.  (32 degree water!)  The writing lacked sufficient motivation.  I didn't get why she was doing all of those swims.  She just seemed a little foolhardy to me.  Also, she mentioned a steady stream of people that were part of her team and crew and I didn't know a thing about them or why they were on the team or why I should care about them.

I heard through the grapevine that my good friend JoLyn liked the writing.  (I forgot to ask her at our writing group.) Since I don't see JoLyn enough and since I want to know why she liked the writing, JoLyn should have come to book club. (I miss you, JoLyn.)  The end. 

as a bonus, Mark thought the guy on the front cover looked like Chuck Norris

By the Great Horn Spoon by Sid Fleischman***

This is a book that Mark and I read as part of his school curriculum.  I decided to add these books here too because 1) I read them and 2) someone else might have a Mark sized person in their life and be interested in a recommendation.

Mark read this book on his own.  Easy enough for a 4th grader.  Give me a minute to wrap my mind around Mark=4th grader.

 

It's confusing that he's a 4th grader when he still looks like this in my mind.

OK.  I'm back.

This was an entertaining and action packed story about a boy Jack and his butler named Praiseworthy.  They leave Boston to make their fortune in the California gold rush. Praiseworthy was my favorite.  He's delightfully prim and proper and witty and wise and transforms into a mountain man by the end of the book. 

creepy cover didn't do much to improve book

William Wilberforce: God's Politician by John Holzmann *

This is another book that we read for Mark's school curriculum.  William Wilberforce, a key player in the abolition of slavery in Britain, was an important guy and this was a significant piece of history.  This book was boring though.  It's one of the ones I borrowed from Marianne.  She wrote in the inside cover, "Don't judge the curriculum by this book.  The other books are better."  That kind of says it all.  I skimmed a few parts as I read it aloud to Mark.  I read reviews that said it was meant to read like a textbook.  Fine.  But textbooks don't need to be this boring.

Minding Frankie by Maeve Binchey ***

I love Maeve Binchey.  I've always loved everything I've read of hers (although sometimes her short stories frustrate me because I want them to be novels instead of short stories).  Her books, once you've read several of them over a span of years, make you feel like you have amnesia.  Characters show up from other novels and I have a foggy recollection of them--enough that I feel like I should remember all the details of their lives but I don't.  This book was good, like all the rest.  The characters are believable and the stories are compelling and satisfying.  This one seemed to ramble a little so wasn't my favorite of hers but I still enjoyed it.

Sing Down the Moon by Scott O'Dell ***

Another 4th grade book.  I loved Island of the Blue Dolphins when I was growing up.  I think because of that, I'll always be a Scott O'Dell fan.  This is a good book.  It's about a Navaho girl.  She and her family were gathered up and put on a reservation.  It was sad.  Also, when I read the afterword, it made me think Kit Carson was a rat.  Carson City was named after him!  Nevada should have reconsidered.

The Beginner's Goodbye by Anne Tyler ****

I love Anne Tyler.  I know she's not everyone's flavor.  (Once when I recommended a book by her for book club, it was met with a tepid response.)  I think she absolutely nails her characters though.  They are all quirky and like no one you've ever met but completely believable at the same time.  This book struck me as incredibly real. It's fascinating and impressive to see an author write so well.

Randomness, part two

Whatever works:

Mark has been working on learning the two letter postal codes for each state.

Yesterday he was filling out a blank map.

"The way I remember Arizona is that Cal used to live there and he's in the honors class at his school," he said.

I said, "I don't understand how that helps you remember it.  What does AZ have to do with an honors class?"

He said, "A-Z?  The alphabet?"  He looked sort of disappointed by my denseness and went back to his work with a sigh.  "It's a smart kid thing," he said, "You wouldn't understand."

My parents have a blue car:

At my writing group, we talked about a lot of things, writing even.  One thing we talked about was cars and one of our members is in the market for a new car.  Other members were throwing around names of cars like the knowledgeable women that they are.  Someone mentioned a Subaru.  The car shopper said she thought her husband was too tall to fit in one.

I said, "My parents have one and my dad is tall."

Then they wanted to know what kind of Subaru.

I said, "A blue one."

(They laughed at me for some reason.)

I was recounting this story to Marianne on the phone--if there's one thing I talk to my sisters about, it's trivialities.  She said that our dad's cousin had called her because he knew our parents liked their Subaru and wondered what kind it was.

Marianne's answer?  It's blue.

Maybe car identification is not our strong suit. (One of my brothers could tell me the kind of car so I can stop embarrassing myself.  They seem like the type of people that would know that kind of thing.)

Clearly, Marianne and I have mastered our colors though.

Randomness

 

Shoes:

I got these new shoes (cute, aren't they?).  They are not actually comfortable though.  I told Adam I insisted on cute comfortable shoes.  I was on a quest.  I wouldn't settle for less.  (I am a notorious settler when it comes to purchases because I lose patience.)

I virtuously passed up many shoes because they were not cute enough or not comfortable enough.

Then I saw these.

They were cute enough that I didn't care that they were uncomfortable.

I told Adam that sometimes we need to make sacrifices for fashion and he looked very skeptical.

The other day I was shopping with Emma.  I asked her, "Are these shoes cute?"

She said, "Yes."

I said, "Really cute?"

She said, "Yes."

I said, "Good, because they are hurting my feet."  Then I added the "sometimes we need to make sacrifices for fashion" thing and she nodded her head like I had just spoken wise words.

Sometimes having a daughter really pays off.

Yesterday morning, after a rough and rocky night without enough sleep, I staggered in my pajamas to go drive the seminary kids to school.  I slipped on my new shoes because they were by the door.  Here's the thought I had as I was walking to my van, "I hope there's not a zombie apocalypse because I am in my pajamas and would not be able to run in these shoes."

Then I thought maybe I shouldn't be driving if I'm having such delusional thoughts.

I told the seminary carpool about my zombie apocalypse fears and they helpfully pointed out that since I was driving I was safe...I could outrun/outdrive any danger.

And why I didn't get any sleep:

I think being a Drama Mama may kill me.  A slow and painful death.

Auditions were held in the last week.  Between callbacks and delays in listing of the cast and refreshing facebook every 3 seconds to find out the results, I was a wreck.  Braeden too.

I usually manage to not be a helicopter parent.  I let my kids do their thing when it is their thing.  Last year I wasn't nearly as concerned about Braeden's auditions...if he got a part, great!

Now I know how much it means to him.

And I get way way way too invested.  (Isn't recognizing you have a problem the first step?)

Why big sisters are a great invention:

I texted Marianne a woeful text.

She texted back:  "Do you want me to beat her up?" (her being the person causing me anxiety)

I texted back: "Yes"

She answered: "I will be right there."

Now Marianne is so slender that any foe of mine, real or imagined would outweigh her.  I'm not sure she'd be that great in a fight.  (I am going to hear about this from her...she will be offended that I doubt her sparring prowess.)

It is wonderful to know that she has my back though.  She's been on my side my whole life and she's not about to switch sides.

My life's work

I took the above grainy, blurry picture in our van this weekend when we were driving.  Sometimes I take in this view and I think, "I did that."

Not only did I birth those three, I kept them alive when they were completely dependent on me.  Adam and I have somehow managed to keep it all together, keeping them fed and clothed and in braces and vaccinations.  At times it wasn't easy but I am everlastingly grateful for their health and love and presence in my life.

And look at them.

Reading. (I did that too.)

I love that they love to read.

(I love that it's quiet in the car when they're all reading.)

A great substitute

In December, I got a letter from the resort where we usually rent a cabin at Lake Chelan.  They were offering us priority reservations.  It was December.  I decided to worry about it later.  It was a current, though ignored, item in the realms of my mental to do list but I never did it.

Then, when I finally decided it was time to get a reservation, there were not any to be had.  I was afraid I was going to be public enemy number one around here but everyone was nice to me.  (Maybe it was sort of a don't bite the hand that feeds you kind of thing.)

We decided to go to Lake Chelan anyway and stay in Wenatchee (where we could get a room) and maybe even spend a little time in Leavenworth which I always like.

Then Eastern Washington caught on fire and going towards wildfires has a certain "no" about it when you're looking for a weekend getaway.

We went the opposite direction, to the Oregon coast and it was wonderful.  A great substitute.  Maybe we'll have to do both in the future?

We stayed at a hotel in the Portland area Friday night.  We squeezed on a bed and watched an episode of The Middle on hulu.  We had to pause it while I tried not to hyperventilate from laughing too hard.

That show cracks me up sometimes.

It has been pointed out to me that my face is not really in the picture.  I'm not photogenic.  This works just fine.

My pajamas may seem a little Christmas-y.  I'm almost always cold in hotel rooms so they serve me well.  Emma's pajamas may seem like an old referee shirt of Adam's. They are.

Happily we had two other beds besides that one and didn't have to all sleep squashed up next to each other.

Saturday morning we went to Tillamook to tour the cheese factory.  Braeden said for Mark it was approaching religious ecstasy...combining two of his great loves, cheese and machines.  We watched the assembly line and sampled cheese and had ice cream cones.

After Tillamook we headed to the coast.  We rolled down the windows to smell the salt water.

Tillamook Bay

There's a picture of me standing at this lookout point pictured below when I was pregnant with Braeden.

And now there's this picture.

We walked down a hill to see a lighthouse.  There was a steep trail back up to the parking lot.  Adam said to Mark, "I bet you can't run all the way to the top."

Mark did. 

At the top he lay down on a picnic table to recover. 

I'm not sure what Braeden was doing but it seemed to help.  Mark ended up surviving.

  And lest you think Emma wasn't there too:

My pretty girl.

We drove up the coast, catching glimpses of the ocean through the trees.  Our plan was to go to Cannon Beach but just short of it, Adam veered off the road.  He heard the siren song of the ocean and could not resist it any longer.

No one could blame him.  It was gorgeous.

At first they dabbled in a little water:

I know these children though and I knew that wouldn't last.

But wait...

That water is cooooold.  (The temperature on the beach was in the 60s, the temperature in the Pacific, considerably colder.)

At this point, the Dahl genes were fighting with the Davis genes.

Guess which genes triumphed?

These are, after all, the ones who got up that morning at 6:00 a.m. and put on their swimsuits (still wet from the night before) and swam in the outdoor pool at the hotel.

I don't pretend to understand them.

When the water washed over my feet occasionally, my feet would immediately start to ache because the water was so cold.

It took Braeden hours to get warm after all of this (he stayed in the water longer than I could imagine after feeling it on my feet).  I think he would do it again any day of the week.

While I sat on the beach (dry and warm) and watched these crazy people I am related to, I felt bursting with gratitude that these four are my family.  I love them.  

It was fun to drive in the car with them, taking turns picking songs on my iphone playlist to listen to.  I enjoyed being with them without the distractions of our everyday life.

Seeing them smile made me smile.

(And I'm glad I was dry and warm on the beach.)

This is about as adventurous as I get around cold water.

The Oregon coast...

...it doesn't disappoint.

Chocolate Menaces

Yesterday our house was chilly and the box in my freezer where I keep cookies ready to put in school lunches was empty.

Time to bake cookies.

I decided to try something different.  (Marianne, I added my own special touch.) I changed up a recipe I already had.  Tweaking cookie recipes=my new thing.

Here's the recipe:

2 c flour
3/4 c cocoa
1/2 t salt
1 t baking soda
1 c butter
1/4 c peanut butter
a little less than 2 c sugar (I think the peanut butter adds sweetness so I cut the sugar back a bit)
2 eggs
2 t vanilla
1 c oatmeal
1 c (more or less) chocolate chips/peanut butter chips

The directions are the same as typical cookies:

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Cream butters and sugar.  Add eggs and vanilla.  Add dry ingredients.  Add chocolate/peanut butter chips.  I had some peanut butter chips but not enough so I added some chocolate.  I'm not sure I needed either but you can't really go wrong adding chocolate chips, right?

Bake 10 minutes.

Mark helped me.  By that I mean he read his history aloud to me while I scooped cookie dough onto baking sheets and he was there to sample the finished product.

He said, "Do you have a name for these?"

I said no.

He said, "How about Chocolate Menaces?"

"Menaces?"

"Yeah," he said, "They're so good it's...criminal."  Then he smiled and took another cookie.

Sometimes I feel like Mark has a really arduous life.  I guess we both do.

Adam said they reminded him of No Bake Cookies (you know the peanut butter/chocolate/oatmeal kind).  So if you like those...