Life Lately

Sorry this post will not have any photos. My phone is currently being repaired for a cracked screen, which was never supposed to be able to crack in the first place, but that is a while different story. Anyway I am using an old one of Husbands, which is a pathetic excuse for a technological device of any kind. I can’t download any apps on the phone if I want it to work, and taking photos is a very hit or miss venture. I am not even going to attempt to get the few photos I have taken off of the phone. I am not suicidal.

I also have no plan for this post, which I know is a blogging no-no, but I don’t really care. The Life Lately title is just vague enough I can write about anything and everything I want, and since I have caffeine thrumming through my system, I think I will just flit from topic to topic.

Non-sequitur style.

I have been having an AMAZING week. I cleaned our whole house, top to bottom, nook and cranny on Monday, AND I have managed to keep it clean since (that’s five days folks). We have had people over for dinner. I had a gaggle of women and their babies in my living room for a couple of hours, and after all of that our house is still clean.

I must be dreaming.

I have never felt more accomplished in my life. Not when I graduated from college, not when I biked across the country (4,000 miles!), not when I got my yoga teacher training certification. Keeping a clean house, while taking care of an infant is a whole new level of accomplishment. I am reveling in it, rolling around like a hog in mud because I know that tomorrow everything could explode.

But I also did other things this week I am proud of: I taught yoga for an hour and it was the best class I have taught yet. Granted the only person in the class was my mother, but I created an hour long class on the fly and it had flow. FLOW. I haven’t taught with anything resembling flow before, up till now I have sort of been stuttering everyone through the poses as I try to think of flow.

I have put away all of the laundry. Which I think means I get some award…as keeping up with laundry is at least a part-time gig around here. I haven’t had to tell Husband to go did through the clean clothes for some requisit article, as it has all been folded on time. Miracles of Miracles. If I don’t stay on top of laundry it will take my a full two or three days to catch up. Calla is so tiny and yet SO messy, even though she isn’t eating solids yet, she doesn’t spit up that much, and we haven’t had a poop explosion in a week or two.

I just jinxed myself didn’t I?

The next thing to be proud of is Calla put herself to sleep last night. We were having some squirming struggles as we were winding down for bed, and after about 20 minutes of uncomfortable nursing (it is hard to nurse when she is fidgety), I decided to put her in her crib for sanity’s sake. I was beginning to feel rather uncharitable (to put it kindly) towards her, as it was already midnight and I wanted sleep, she wanted sleep, but she didn’t want to lie still. But I laid her town in her crib, for the first time ever, and SHE FELL ASLEEP.My three month old put herself to sleep. So I guess I can’t really be proud, as it really had nothing to do with me, but I am in awe. I am not sure I will be able to replicate this, but even one night of it was pretty magical. I then wasted about an hour of sleep as I couldn’t stop wondering if she was going to wake up. I had such a hard time believing she had put herself to sleep, that I got out of bed at one point to make sure she was indeed asleep and hadn’t passed away instead.

Since this post seems to have turned into one big bragfest, I have to say things with Husband are pretty sweet as well. We just had our second wedding anniversary. We took Calla camping (or rather yurting) for the first time to celebrate, and it was wonderful. We only went for one night, which was no where near enough time, but it was good to get out to the beach for even that short amount of time. Calla was oblivious to anything but sleeping, eating, and playing, but someday she will come to appreciate the beach and camping. I have been meaning to write a “second anniversary post” for a while, so maybe I will save all my gushy, mushy feelings for that one. Suffice it to say it is amazing to watch Husband with Calla. He is so in tune with her–I could watch them play together forever.

Anyway I should wrap this up. If you were worried with all this gloating I have been doing, don’t worry. I have it coming to me. Next week we will be flying (with Calla) to Chicago, then driving four hours to rural Indiana for a wedding, then driving the four hours back to Chicago to get on a plane to New York, then driving four hours to my Grandmother’s house, visiting with all of my mother’s family before driving four hours back to the airport to catch a plane home.

So no need to be worried, I will be putting in my dues…

Wish me luck!


Dear Internet

I spent an hour writing a blog post this morning. No this post is not it.


Because you deleted it.

It was a great post. All about organization and life and how wonderful, if completely nutty, I am.

I don’t have the heart to recreate it.

So my dear readers…mainly my mother…will suffer. Because she reads everything I write. My blog is even her homepage, so she always knows when I publish something.

How dare you let her down.




LIfe Lately

Since it as been a while, once again I figured I would spend a little time catching everyone up on what life has been like lately. There has been a LOT going on. First, we have lived in our new house in Portland for almost a month. It seems so silly that I can say that. When we first sat down and said we were ready to start looking to buy a house, well it was such a nebulous thing. We thought we had enough money saved. We thought we knew what we wanted. And while all of that turned out to be true, it was still a very nebulous thing at the time to think about what it would be like to live in a home that we owned. But then here we are today, living very happily in a house that we own. I feel like after everything we were told about buying a house, how stressful it is, how much work there is to do, we completely lucked out. So much of buying house happens behind the scenes: the realtors, the loan officer, the house inspection, the title company I guess I just didn’t feel too connected to the process.

I think that made the process go by faster, may have even made it seem easier. So before we knew it we were moving and then the move was over and we were just living in our house. Pretty cool stuff. Below is a picture of Husband and I in front of our digs.

we moved photoThe move has been a bit of a change. We now live 30-40 minutes from my parents, whereas before we were only 10. This is more an adjustment for me than it is for Husband. We also actually live in Portland now, versus living out in the ‘burbs like before. I am getting used to living with more traffic, but I am loving living so close to beautiful parks, great restaurants, yoga studios, libraries, cafés. This is reminiscent of my time in Tacoma. I can walk a lot more to a lot more places, and we are about twenty minutes from anywhere in Portland. It is fabulous. We have been going out to eat a lot, exploring our new options. At some point our budget will dictate that we need to cool it on the going out, but then I think we will just be a little more strategic about our explorations. So far we have found a couple of gems. There is a Chinese restaurant about half a mile from us, which is really decent. Then there is a breakfast/thrift store (yes you read that correctly) joint that is super cheap and has biscuits and gravy. There is really too much to list here. Husband and I are going to get fat living here, or at least there is a lot of potential for growth. So we have also been exploring the local fauna. We are two blocks from Pier Park, which is huge. Then across the St. Johns bridge there is Forest Park, which is even more enormous. You could hike there for days. Really. Husband has been packing me and the dogs up and tromping us through the forest. It has been beautiful. He has also been bringing his camera along and experimenting. The first photo I was happy, the second photo is really more like the 50th–I will let you guess how I was feeling.

Forest Park Better Forest Park

So enough about our new digs. The other big news is that we are about 20 weeks pregnant. In just the past couple of days I have really begun to show, and everything about my body is different. Really different. I can’t believe how much change can occur in a body in such a short amount of time. The hormones are something else. I was a little bitchy the other day and when I apologized to husband he said not to worry about it. It was just because I was pregnant.

Between you and me I am not sure I would have been any nicer in other circumstances. Not sure the baby had anything to do with it, but let’s not tell Husband that. It is really nice having a “get out of jail free card.” It is also nice having a wonderful husband. That might be the more important take away.

Anyway, I have a much weaker stomach now. I have never gotten sick over something I have seen before. Once in high school our biology class was taken to OHSU to look at a cadaver. I remember watching the med student showing us the man’s leg and hooking his finger into the thigh and holding up a long rope of material telling us it was the longest vein in the body. It was really cool. But I am pretty sure if I saw that now I would vomit. Last month I saw a fruit fly hovering over my bowl of Greek yogurt and just the thought of having maybe eaten a fruit fly along with my yogurt sent me hurling to the bathroom.

Then two weeks ago when I was sick with a head cold I tried to use my Nedi Pot. Before I used to plug the drain and watch and see how much crap I could flush out of my sinuses. The more that collected in the sink, the prouder I was. Well that sent me yacking. It was unfortunate because I hadn’t yet flushed both sides of my sinuses and I had to go to bed feeling rather lopsided.

I also feel movement in my SI joints, which is really disconcerting, but thankfully that doesn’t cause me to vomit. I really hate getting sick.

On a less disgusting note, Husband got to feel the baby kick for the first time a couple of days ago. I have been feeling the baby move for about two weeks now. It is a weird feeling, and I am not sure I altogether like it. I mean it is wonderful to feel confirmation that there is indeed a living being in there. It is neat to feel more connected to this thing that is happening, but the actual movement itself, the physical sensation of it is a little disconcerting. But it was so wonderful for me to feel that Husband felt the little being move. We haven’t been able to recreate that moment, as the baby doesn’t kick on cue, but we keep trying.

Anyway that has been our life for the past month: moving and ultrasounds. Just like it is hard to believe we are in our own house, it is hard to believe that we will have a baby in just under five months. It doesn’t really seem possible.




Back Home and Busy

I spent a good chunk of yesterday trying to figure out what the hell I wanted to write for a new blog post. I could not even string a couple words together without rolling my eyes and manically hitting that delete button. I swear that will be the first thing I have to replace on this keyboard. BUT last night on a whim I went back and reread my last couple of posts, and not to be a person propped up by ego or anything, but I actually liked what I had written.

Go Figure.

Not that my last posts were any great grammatically perfect feats of prose, but I felt like I wasn’t boring either and that was nice. More than nice—nice to the point where I was inspired to write maybe a little bit more.

So with my mojo back, I feel free to go ahead and write about anything and most likely probably nothing. Now I can go ahead and tell you dear reader that I just got back from a month long hiatus in middle-of-nowhere California. Reason numero uno that I have not been as present, or present at all, on the blog. I got to spend some wonderful time with my wonderful in-laws and my completely delectable niece. I also got Yoga Teacher Training Certification while I was away, so while I missed home, and Husband, and our dogs, and our routine it was a great—if exhausting—month away.

I got home a week ago and Husband and I hit the ground running looking for a house to buy. I think we looked at seven houses over the course of seven days, and low and behold we put our first offer on one of the houses last night. Our realtor says it is a very strong offer, but I have no idea how this all works, and honestly I have always been a bit of a pessimist, so until keys are in hand I honestly can’t let myself get too excited about the house. Even IF it would be absolutely perfect for us. Nope. No excitement.

Husband leaves this week for a big conference in San Francisco for his company. I will fly down to join him for one day as some of his family from Europe will be in town and since we won’t be getting out to that neck of the woods anytime soon, we felt it was important to get down there to see them.

I guess the point of telling you all of this is basically to say that life is crazy and it doesn’t seem to be slowing down at any near point in the future. It does make me a little tired to think about it all. I long for winter, which I haven’t felt anything close to longing for a Pacific Northwest winter since EVER. I tend to get depressed a little with the rain, but we have been so busy a little winter depression sounds good. Or rather I feel like hibernating, which is probably a better way of saying it.

Anyway, we keep plugging ahead. We will find out about the house soon enough. Then either we keep looking, or we suddenly enter into the whole new world of homeownership. Wish us luck!


Reynolds High School and Compassion

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That is my favorite photo of my high school graduation. I am the slouchy girl with very little hair on the right. It is hard to believe that it was seven years ago, but there goes time for you. Those kids up there were some of the best people I knew at the time and not much of that has changed. One of them is now in Ethiopia, another is working with battered children, one will most likely cure cancer one day, and another is honestly to goodness one of the best guys I will ever know.

But unfortunately this photo isn’t relevant to me just for nostalgia’s sake right now. For those of you who only know me through this medium, I am an alum of Reynolds High School, which was the scene of another school shooting last week.  It shouldn’t be possible to say the words, “another school shooting,” but that is a discussion for another time or maybe later in this post if I get to upset, rambly, off-topic, or all three. Anyway, my friend Ivan and I went to the candlelight vigil last night and upon leaving we walked past the sign at the entrance to the school. That sign has become a memorial full of balloons, messages, and flowers. But for me, I haven’t been able to sleep since.

It was comforting and sweet to see, until we read the sign: Bitches Love Jared P. That sign stopped me short. It took me a while to work it out, and even now I am trying desperately to give the author the benefit of the doubt. Jared was the shooter and we were tempted to take down the sign ourselves. But we didn’t. I thought it was because of fear–fear of getting caught, of ruining someone’s right to free speech, of starting a conversation I don’t know how to have let alone finish.

But the thing is, I got home two hours ago and while I should be sleeping because I have to work tomorrow at 7am, which means I need to be up at 6am, and I am not a functioning human being until about 8am WITH a full 8-10 hours of sleep, I can’t. Sleep that is. I have tossed and turned and kept Husband awake who has a cold and also has to work tomorrow. I am realizing that I didn’t and still don’t want to take the sign down without having a conversation about WHY I feel the sign should be pulled. I don’t want to take it down in the dark of the night and then pretend I didn’t do it, and pray no one notices.

I want it taken down, but not like that. To me the literal meaning of this sign is that anyone who loved or loves Jared is a bitch. Maybe there is a back story that I do not know, or maybe I am not understanding the sign correctly. Especially since it looks like it was drawn carefully and tied to the gate with matching navy blue ribbons. Whoever wrote it put thought into it, or at least it looks that way. So I hope that I am wrong about what they meant–for their sake.

But the problem with that theory is that I am afraid other people will read the sign the way I did, and that some of those people may be friends and family of Jared’s. What he did was horrible. But the people who cared about him have lost him and they have to come to terms what he did. It is so painfully hard to understand why someone so young is taken from us without having to understand the fact that he was a murderer on top of it.

Our community needs compassion, the friends and family of Jared need compassion just as much as his victim Emilio Hoffman. I am not condoning what he did, but I am not condoning that sign either. That sign espouses hate and guilt. It doesn’t allow for healing or grief. These kids who are suffering through this tragedy need role models in this community. We need to have a conversation about this. It needs to be said that no matter how much we are hurting, no matter how angry we feel we cannot hurt other people in the process. This sign is hurtful, at least for someone out there and one person hurt by this is too many.

I am having a hard enough time living with the reality that this happened at the high school I went to, the high school that I still know teachers at, the high school that I know kids at. It was incredibly scary to watch the news reports unfold, wondering the whole time if the teacher who was grazed was someone I knew, or the kid who was killed was someone I knew through Search and Rescue. If it is this hard for me, if this makes me this scared and angry I cannot imagine what it is doing to those who lived through it.

We have to remember that Jared was a person before he did this. He was a person who was loved by his friends and by his family. Those connections do not die because he committed a horrible act. They do not go away even though he has shaken a community to its core and changed the lives of Emilio and his family forever. Those who loved him are not HIM. They did not pull the trigger and they have the right to grief for the loss of their loved one. They have the right to try to heal and work through this horrible mental thing he has left them with. And they have the right to do all of that in a compassionate and caring community.

I do not have any answers in this situation. And I can’t believe it is possible to say this but school shootings have been apart of my life since elementary school. I grew up in Colorado before I lived in Oregon. I was in elementary school an hour away from Columbine. It makes me sick just mentally ticking off the list of school shootings that I know of: Columbine, Sandy Hook, Virginia Tech, SPU, Reynolds. It has been 15 years between the first shooting on that list and the last two. 15 years and nothing has changed. 15 years and kids are still dying. 15 years and the problems haven’t been solved. Controls aren’t better, mental health services are not better. NOTHING is better if children are still dying.

Though I did read an article about how well SPU handled the aftermath of the shooting. I am glad we are learning how to live and grieve through these things. PLEASE read that with a sense dread and the taste of sickness in your mouth. It shouldn’t be possible to learn to handle these situations better. One was too many, and all the others are killing us.

But I don’t know any solutions. I am not a fountain of wisdom. All I have got here is profound sadness and the idea that we cannot antagonize someone for grieving or feeling a sense of loss. Maybe the Bitches are a club and they miss and love Jared. Somehow I doubt it. If you have another perspective, or any feedback please feel free to comment on the post or send me a message through my contact page. I would love to hear from you. This is an important discussion and I am open to hearing all view points.


The First Big One

468451_612859428727128_258878024_oIn five days time, Husband and I will have been married for exactly one year. When I was younger, I can tell you that I never thought I would be saying that sentence at the tender age of 25. But here we are, and I know everyone says this but just WHERE exactly did that time go? Now I am not a particularly mushy person. Do not get me wrong, I get mushy about certain things but they usually include chocolate, a very girly movie, and a certain time of the month. Husband is the romantic one. But I have to say that this past year has been, so far, the best year of my life.

Meg Ryan in Serious Moonlight talks about her first years of marriage calling that feeling, “the unbearable sweetness of it.” Now that movie doesn’t really fit this situation, and hopefully never will, as it is about a husband who has fallen in love with someone else and is trying to leave his wife. His wife (Ryan) is having none of it and throughout the course of the movie she hits him over the head with a flower-pot, duck tapes him first to chair and then a toilet meanwhile showing him wedding photos and baking him his favorite cookies so that he will fall back in love with her. I have promised husband that if he ever tries to leave me, I will use that movie as a blue print for getting him back. I swear, he wasn’t even a little creeped out.

But the phrase “unbearable sweetness” has really stuck with me. It doesn’t mean that marriage is easy. It means that despite everything that is challenging and sometimes hurtful about marriage, it is still the best decision I have ever made. Unbearable sweet is the closest I have gotten to describing that feeling. Serendipity and unbearable sweetness.

In the first year of marriage, I believe, is still the honeymoon phase to some extent. Nothing has gotten monotonous and we have yet to add major stressors to our relationship like children or trying to buy a house. That is not to say that everything has been berries and cream. While we have had some wonderful events in our first year if marriage like welcoming our first niece, baby Tulsi, into the family, we have had some hard stuff too. In February my Grandmother fell and hit her head on cement, which put her into a coma and me onto a plane out to Texas for a couple of weeks while Husband had to stay behind to work. Thankfully, t the amazing age of 93, she has made a remarkable recovery.

We continue to figure out how to balance life together. Every week is different for us between Husband’s ever flexible and changing job and my odd freelance lifestyle. Then you add in two dogs with independent minds of their own and I never really know how a week is going to look like until I am about halfway through with it. Take last month for example when I woke up to Husband exploding with colorful expletives as he tripped over puddles of diarrhea on his way to make his morning cup of Joe. Our oldest dog Boaz had gotten sick several times and then tracked it all over the house. We were cleaning for upwards of four hours and then we had to go to the vet. That was a game-changer.

There is one embarrassingly cheesy line, from some stupid Facebook quote somewhere that keeps kicking me in the butt, whenever I find myself pondering marriage: “don’t be afraid to be the one who loves the most.” Having been raised in a culture that has, maybe inadvertently, taught me to always be vigilant to make sure that I am getting what I deserve it can be hard to transition from that mentality into marriage. It can be hard to stop asking if I am getting enough: enough love, attention, support and start asking if my spouse is getting enough. This is just one of the many lessons that marriage has been teaching me.

That and to never let husband get too much caffeine, as then he terns into a prickly, cranky…something. Also that I should always be fed on time, as when I go too long without food I turn into a nagging, crazy…something.

In less than three days Husband and I will be flying off to Hawaii to celebrate our first year of marriage. Thanks to our wonderful Aunt and Uncle who have graciously let us stay at their condo for the very reasonable rate of the cleaning fee, which is making this whole shindig possible. My two goals for the trip are to swim EVERYDAY and to eat some pineapple EVERYDAY. Originally my goal was to eat one pineapple everyday, but Husband put in a veto as he felt that eating one pineapple a day for ten days would result in a hospital stay by day four. I think he is being a little over protective.

On that note I should thank Husband for putting up with me for the past year of marriage and the previous two years of just regular relationship. I am so thankful that we get to build this wonderful, unbearably sweet life together.


Happy Anniversary Baby! Love you.















The Two and Only McGillagreen’s

Husband and I finally went and did it–that is we blended out last name’s AND we made it legal. This craziness started about a year and a half ago when I suggested we hyphenate our names when we get married and he said, “hyphenation is dumb.” That was obviously the beginning to a fruitful and mature conversation. You have to understand that my parents kept their respective names because my mother wanted to hyphenate and my dad said, “hyphenation is dumb.” Somethings you just can’t make up. Like the fact that in many respects I married my father. I try to ignore it.

Anyway, Husband had no idea the can of worms he cracked when he told me hyphenation was dumb. Now I am not a huge fan of hyphenation my self. It just gets sticky when you add kids to the picture, and kids are sticky enough. I also don’t like the idea of having to say and write such a long name all the time. But I also believe that marriage should be a partnership between two people, and I wanted our name to be a symbol of that partnership. I liked hyphenation for that reason only: it shows a commitment from both spouses instead of just one.

I wouldn’t say that Husband and I argued about this per say; I would rather say that we had a lively, heated, debate. I may at one point have told him that hyphenation was his price he had to pay to make up for being a part of the sex that had kept women oppressed for a millenia. Some people have told me I can be a little dramatic–I honestly don’t see it. Turns out I was the one trapped in a box I couldn’t think myself out of. I was seriously distressed that we didn’t see eye to eye. I wouldn’t say I started to doubt the relationship, but hyperventilation might not have been far off.

Then Husband said these magical words, “why don’t we make up our own last name.” I honestly thought he was joking, but after we had calmed down after a good laugh the idea had stuck and before we knew it we were making  a list of all of the conceivable combinations of our two last names. There were combos that were out immediately, like McGreen which sounded like a weird moldy sandwich from McDonald’s. It took us a while to settle on McGillagreen–months really.

Deciding on the name itself hasn’t been the only hurdle. As it turns out Oregon doesn’t recognize blended last names. Kashi and I both had to go to through a legal name change. We had to go to the courthouse and petition to change our names. It started with putting up a petition on a bulletin board for all to see. I believe this is a vestigial process left over from the days before internet and telecommunications were invented, but I don’t actually know that for sure. Our petition had to be up for at least 14 days, then we had our hearing with the judge.

This is the one case where I can see how someone might call me dramatic. Maybe. I may have exaggerated the meeting with the judge. I made Husband print out legal documents and financial statements to prove that we weren’t trying to evade any financial responsibility by changing our names. I worried for the three weeks leading up to our court date, the worry kicking into overdrive for the 20 minute drive downtown. I think Husband’s hand needed to be wrung out after I kept clutching it. I mean what if the judge said no? We already made the change on Facebook?!

Turns out I had nothing to be worried about. We entered the courtroom with about 20 or so other people who were trying to change their name as well. I have to admit that my worry didn’t dissipate until after the judge signed out orders, even though the judge didn’t even sit in on the hearings. That should have been my first clue that we would be fine, considering the judge didn’t think it worth her time to officially officiate the whole process. Her aide took our paperwork, make sure it matched with some other paper work she had on us and then sat our paperwork on the accepted pile for the judge to sign later.

Looking back that wasn’t the only thing about the process that should have made me realize that everything would be fine. Before we went into the hearing they told us to just go ahead and order any extra copies that we might want of our official name change. You think that would have been a sign, especially after I asked the cashier if buying them early was bad luck and she just laughed. Apparently I am not very good at reading the signs.

But sitting in the courtroom waiting for our names to be called, none of that mattered. About five people were called before us, and all five of them were denied a name change. I think one woman hadn’t completed the archaic process correctly, another was trying to change the name of her granddaughter but hadn’t served the biological mother with papers first. And then without any pomp and circumstance it was all over. Our names were changed and we were walking out of the courthouse. Now we just have to change everything else: IRS, Social Security, driver’s licences, passports, my student loans, alumni associations, credit cards, bank, membership programs, USPS, car titles, etcetera etcetera. Since our names are already legally changed, I think we can keep the worrying to a minimum.

Right? Right?!