surprises

We've been talking about replacing Chris's car with something that's better in the snow. He has driven a Honda Civic for several years, but now we live on back roads and there are times when his car can't even get up the driveway. I get nervous every time he has to drive in the snow in that car, and neither of us want the kids getting driven to daycare and school in a car that isn't very safe in snow. Last night I thought Chris was working late. I gave the kids dinner, gave Henry a bath, put them to bed, and an hour later I saw big headlights pulling into the driveway. That sneaky husband went out and traded his car in for a Pilot!

I, personally, would rather have something a bit smaller and less truck-like. It seems big, extravagant, awfully black, and expensive to buy gas for. But Chris has been dying for a "truck" of some kind, he likes the color, and it is a safety improvement over the Civic. I can't win 'em all. I do like that it will be much better in the snow, and has enough seats for us to go somewhere with grandparents or other people all in one car. And it does drive surprisingly well.

This morning Celia went to school and I had a lot to get done around the house. Henry and I went to mail packages at the post office, and then he had a long nap at home. I got a lot done and finished Christmas decorating.

So here's something funny. Celia, my mom and I went to a Christmas store we go to every year. There are rooms and rooms full of different-themed decorations and ornaments. We saw these cute little houses and my mom got them for me. I saw that they lit up and pictured pretty white or pastel lights to match the houses.

We took them home, turned them on, and... Surprise! Christmas brothel houses! The house on the left even has lights that blink very slowly.

I'm thinking I'll leave the lights off...

Off to read and get to bed early tonight.

miscellany

1) I could use another weekend to recover from the weekend. We ended up going to Chris's parents' to help them pack up their house. Obviously a lot got done with a baby and a three-year-old to take care of too... The best part was when the kids were both napping (which is the best time get anything done) Chris's mom and I immediately started taping up boxes and packing stuff, and Chris and his dad spent the time snoring away on the couch. Not because they'd been working all morning, but because watching the Masters is just so exhausting. This was after Chris had made a big deal about how we all had to go down for the whole weekend so he could help his dad. Classic.

2) Today I'm just hanging out with this guy,

and getting stuff done around the house during naps.

3) I'm tired. It's a lot of work being away with a baby. Packing everything up, trying to keep it organized while we're gone, unpacking and putting it all away when we get home, catching up on the laundry, keeping him on schedule... Chris does not understand. For him, there isn't any work to do when we're away from home. He can sit and relax. I still have all the work I normally have- taking care of the kids, feeding them, keeping them on schedule, etc, except it's harder because we're not at home with everything set up the way we're used to. Then once home, I have twice the work because I've been missing doing laundry and housework. Husband cannot comprehend why I don't think it's fun and relaxing to spend a weekend away (or a whole week- boy am I looking forward to our summer "vacation"). He thinks I'm just uptight and that I need to "relax". He's big on relaxing. Must be nice. Sheesh, I'm really on a roll here. Maybe I should have devoted the whole post to this topic.

4) There were a few new flowers waiting for us when we got home yesterday.

5) Today I'm making a vegan version of frito salad for dinner, and two lasagnas- one for tomorrow and one to freeze. The lasagna "cheese" is made with nuts, so I will be off my very low-fat diet for a night I guess...

6) I showed how I made over and reorganized my kitchen counters last week and I'll bet you all thought I really had it together over here. Just to clear that up, here's a look at my pantry. Ha!

I buy a lot of bulk nuts, seeds and grains, and they end up a jumbled mess. I need to get containers to pour them into so they stay organized and more neat looking.

7) I'm not a fan of the new Blogger design. If it isn't broken, don't fix it.

Time to get a couple things done before Henry wakes up from his nap!

the dentist

I had a dentist appointment today. Going to the dentist as an adult really is one of the greatest tests of adultness. It's one of my most hated activities, yet I faithfully keep those appointments every six months. As I ascended the steps outside the dentist's office today, I thought, "Why am I here? I could walk away right now and never have to go to the dentist again. Men don't go to the dentist or the doctor (at least most men I know). They fumble along in their fantasy man world where everything's perfectly fine until all of a sudden a limb's falling off, teeth are missing, or an organ or two has failed. Then they go to a doctor." I thought about Chris. I'm pretty sure he's been blissfully canceling and postponing dentist appointments for some time now. I reached the top of the stairs and as I turned the doorknob I thought, "Damnit! I'm so blasted responsible." And I entered the dreaded waiting room. 

As I sat in the waiting room a few patients get called back. They all looked perfectly happy to be there, smiling and talking. As if they weren't about to disappear from normal civilized life into horrific torture chamber for an hour. But then, I do the same thing. We chat and laugh and act as if everything's just fine, but it's all a farce isn't it? We are at the dentist, after all. All that happy small talk doesn't fool me. That receptionist has some nerve, smiling like she does when she knows darn well what happens just down the hall!

I don't see the regular old dental hygienist. At first I felt a bit embarrassed about this. I go to the hygienist who sees all the kids. The walls in her room are covered with pictures her other patients have drawn her. I should give her one some time, just to show up all those five-year-olds. Anyway, seeing the children's hygienist means I get more choices for flavors of toothpaste and much better parting gifts than all the other adult patients. But I really see her because I have extremely sensitive teeth and gums. She is gentle. She babies me and puts lots of numbing stuff in my mouth before all those metal torture hooks and scrapers go in there. This makes my appointments marginally more bearable, but even with that I have a lot of pain. So I endured my fifty minutes of torture by dental instrument (Yes, fifty minutes. Did I mention that on top of the sensitivity, my teeth LOVE to collect plaque like it's going out of style?) and then had to be examined by the dentist. Don't you just hate being examined by the dentist? Doesn't it automatically make you feel like something's wrong with you and that you're going to need seventeen fillings? Or that someone's going to reprimand you for not flossing enough, or for having seventeen cavities? Or that you must have the grossest most diseased mouth the entire dental practice has seen that day? Maybe I'm more paranoid than most.

Anyway, I survived. I went home and gorged on tooth rotting vegan lemon bars. And brushed my teeth afterward, of course.