Hellllooooo iiiinnnnn theeeeeerrrreeeee!

Um.  So.  Hi.

*Ahem*

I'm still here.  Sort of.  It's been a crazy past few months, but things might just be settling down for a little while.

Or so I think...

Let me sum up.

April was consumed by Easter and all the Church and family obligations it entailed, plus recovery.  Okay, so that was the beginning of April.  The rest of that month was basically spent preparing for May.  Here is why:

May 9th was Mass in my hometown for my grandfather, who passed away 6 years ago.  Wee Ninja Girl, my sister The Queen of Musicke, and I trekked to the Albany area for a long weekend, leaving EP Dude home all by his lonesome.  (He cried every night.  He told me so.)  We arrived home on the 10th, only to unpack and get the house ready for my brother, sister-in-law, and three nieces to descend upon us for one night only on their way through to New Hampshire.  That was the 12th.

May 16th was the ARS Recorder Concert, which required rehearsal, baking, practicing, and more rehearsal.  It went really great, by the way, except for the strange little bird that kept attacking one of the windows.

May 21-23 was the weekend that my ENTIRE FAMILY (parents, siblings, nieces) came to stay with us for my younger brother's graduation from the Rochester Institute of Technology.  It was insane and loud and a total blast, but I was exhausted afterward!

The holiday weekend was full of fun and parties, but also exhausting in its own right.

Whilst all this was going on, we were trying to get our house sided, changed our minds and went with windows instead, and are now looking to get the house painted.  We also had a cancer scare in the family, which of course caused much anxiety all around.  It turned out to be a serious cancer, but at the earliest possible stage, and it's been taken care of, to everybody's relief and joy.

So... I've been a tad busy.

I've also set up an Etsy shop which I am slowly stocking with yarncrafts and jewelry, and maybe even some sewn items, once I get around to taking pictures and posting stuff.

Otherwise, everyone is well and getting ready for summer.  May was unbearably hot.  Now that it's June, I'm actually wearing jeans and a sweatshirt because it's so cold and rainy.  Sigh.

Finally, a gratuitous picture of Wee Ninja Girl, because she's getting so big I can hardly stand it.

Oh, and I solemnly promise to post more than once every two months.  Honest.

Stop laughing, I mean it!

Advent!

Today is the first Sunday of Advent!  It is early this year (or it seems so), and I am happy to break out all my awesome Christmas music.  I know the Christmas season doesn't officially begin until, well, Christmas, but there is just too much beautiful music to cram into those twelve days, so I enjoy it now.

I will try to recommend a different Christmas album or collection every week this Advent, since my taste in music is a bit out of the mainstream and most people haven't heard of stuff I like.  My music recommendations for this first week are Celtic Celebration and Celtic Celebration 2 by the Night Heron Consort.  The arrangements are beautiful and prayerful and really do justice to the meaning of the season.

Don't you just hate it when the holiday music on the radio consists of all these people ridiculously oversinging every song?  I mean, seriously, people.  Chill out.  I always thought of Advent and Christmastime to be such a peaceful, hushed time.

A Child born in the still of the night, surrounded by gently cooing animals.

Angels in the darkened sky calling the news to lonely shepherds in the fields.

The three Magi traveling in the darkness, following the star to the stables, then stealing away into the night.

So let us enjoy the peace of the season and save your vocal chords (yes, Ms. Carey, I'm talking to you) for another day.

In conclusion, here is my favorite non-religious Christmas song, sung by the only person who should ever sing it.

All Shook Up

We've been doing some things differently at the House of Whimsy this past week.

Last week EP Dude and I made the decision to attend Mass at a different parish. It wasn't an easy decision but we are very happy that we did. The parish we had been attending since our wedding is no longer recognizable. We started going there because the ones in our own town were, quite frankly, dreadful. We thought we had found a parish home, something that is very important to us, especially me.

As an Army brat, I moved around a lot growing up. It was always a huge comfort to me that no matter where we went, the Mass would be there. We were always involved in the different parishes, whether in youth groups, choir, lectoring, religious education, etc.

At the parish we just left, I wanted to become involved, but before I felt comfortable enough to do so, things changed. The wonderful priests were replaced. The nun who took over the parish kept interjected herself into the liturgy and even started giving homilies. Scores of parishioners were alienated and left, but for some reason EP Dude and I hung on. I think I just didn't want to let go, to give up. This place that once felt so right was gone.

So, last week we went to a different parish, one that hadn't undergone a similar transformation. (Those parishes are becoming few and far between these days, sadly.)

For the first time in a long time, I was calm on Sunday morning. I wasn't worried about having to hear questionable messages or lay homilies. I was able to focus on the Mass.

Unfortunately, EP Dude didn't quite have the same experience, since it was his turn to wrangle Wee Ninja Girl and she was especially cranky that morning.

Actually, we're all kind of cranky. I came down with some kind of sinus infection on Friday night, EP Dude had it (to a much lesser extent) on Saturday, and WNG was a bit under the weather herself until Sunday. I think we went through two whole boxes of tissues.

The Single Nap Experiment with Wee Ninja Girl went better than expected. On top of her runny nose, she's apparently teething or hitting a growth spurt or just being a total poophead or something, because she was extra cranky this weekend. Still, we're getting the hang of her new sleep schedule. We may be able to put her to bed at 7:30pm rather than 8:30pm, since she's been sleeping in until 9 or 9:30 every morning.

I cannot express the extent to which my life will improve if Wee Ninja Girl starts going to bed at 7:30pm.

We keep a strict bedtime routine with WNG, so she knows what is coming and doesn't freak out when we lay her in her crib. EP Dude brings her up and starts getting her in her night diaper and pajamas, and I follow a few minutes later carrying all the stuff that she scattered about the house during the afternoon and evening. Once she's ready, she nurses (the only time she breastfeeds at all), we brush her teeth, turn out the lights and she goes to sleep. We've been doing this for months and it's worked like a charm.

Sunday night, WNG threw an absolute fit when I tried to nurse her. Clawing, screaming, kicking, the whole shebang. She kept making the teeth-brushing sound (ch-ch-ch-) and trying to throw herself off the bed. EP Dude and I figured that since she was a bit under the weather, that we'd let her brush her teeth first JUST THIS ONCE and then nurse her and put her to bed. She didn't go down easily, but we blamed that on her stuffed nose.

Monday night, same thing. After brushing her teeth and kicking myself for giving in the night before, I settled down to nurse her. Except she wouldn't latch. In fact, she didn't even want to be on my lap. So, I put her in her bed where she fussed for two minutes and fell asleep.

So yeah. It wasn't the cold or the teething. She just didn't want to nurse anymore. Ouch.

I always planned on weaning her around 12 months of age, since she's eating such a variety of food and loves cow's milk, but it just felt so harsh. WNG cut out the other feedings on her own as she ate more "people food" so it's logical that she decided when to stop it altogether.

I knew it was coming. Her nighttime nursing only lasted about five minutes total and she spent most of the time goofing around. It's like slowly peeling the bandaid to make it hurt less, but then ripping it off when it's still good and stuck. (There is your lame analogy of the day, folks. Enjoy.)

So why do I feel so utterly rejected? It's silly of me, but I just can't help it. I actually cried a little bit last night.

I'm such a baby. And my baby is not such a baby.

*sniff*

Okay, I'm totally depressed now. I'm going to go eat some oatmeal raisin cookies I made yesterday and watch another episode of Doc Martin on Netflix. I highly recommend the show, unless you don't like British stuff, because while it is hilarious, it's also very, very British.

P.S. I've even found some time to crochet, but since it's a gift for the next family birthday, I won't post the pattern until after it's been received. But, rest assured, I will post the pattern! (I know you've all been wallowing in despair at my lack of pattern posing. Admit it.)

On the road again...

Well, it seems that two road trips with Wee(py) Ninja Girl in tow just weren't enough for the summer, so now I am in Albany with her visiting my parents and family. Extraordinarily Patient Dude is stuck working in Rochester, but will be up on Friday afternoon.

Wee Ninja Girl is usually pretty good in the car, but 3.5 hours is a bit much for her, despite being the shortest trip yet. We only had to stop once since my youngest sister (Ms. T) and I were sitting in the backseat with WNG entertaining her the whole way. EP Dude will come and pick us up and we all return home Sunday morning.

I have been doing lots of knitting, crocheting, and beading lately, but most of what I've made have been from other patterns. Ms. T's birthday gifts were fingerless gloves and a little cell-phone sock. I made up the sock, so if I remember to jot down the pattern I could post that. I really like self-striping sock yarn.

My younger brother's (The Engineer) birthday gift was a cabled hat from Stitch 'n' Bitch Nation. It came out really nice in a lovely dark brown wool.

My mom's birthday gift was a black and white beaded necklace. It came out nice—she didn't think I had actually made it myself. I'm not sure if I should be insulted or complimented. I have a hard time photographing jewelry, but if I can get a nice shot I will post it.

I was so proud of myself for finishing gifts for ALL the August birthdays in the family when I realized that my oldest niece, Energizer Bunny, turned 8 today. Sigh. One more late present to go and then I think I'm home free until October.

Then it's time to think about Christmas...

Happy Birthday, Grampa!

My grandfather, my father's father, lives in the same house where he has spent most of his life. Grampa loves to tell stories of his childhood and youth, and he always has an eager audience in his grandkids.

When he was very young, he and his older brothers would spend afternoons in the movie theatre where his father ran the projector. I always pictured three little Italian-American boys in chairs against the wall under the projection window, enraptured by the flickering images on the screen. Their favorites were the westerns, and they'd spend hours recreating the stunts they saw.

Grampa tells of mixing sugar water into shot glasses at his kitchen counter and pretending it was whiskey. Sometimes, one of the brothers would climb on top of the icebox a huge desert boulder to leap down onto the heads of the unsuspecting passers-by. Then there was the time Grampa's older brother leapt through a plate glass window in the dining room during "saloon brawl."

Oh, their sainted mother! Such patience!

Once they were told to kill a chicken for dinner. Not knowing any other way to kill anything, they attempted to hang it. I will spare you the gory details from that escapade; it's a story much better told at the dinner table while eating chicken. Or so that's how we always heard it, much to my grandmother's chagrin.

As a young man during World War II, Grampa was finally able to enlist, only to find that the war was over. He was sent to Japan as part of the occupation. One night, while out past curfew, he and some friends were about to be caught by the MPs. Thinking quickly, Grampa just ran into the nearest house and shut the door. The family inside didn't say anything, but served him a plate of their dinner and then he went on his way.

Later he thought that he may have been just a tad intimidating, what with bursting through their door at night, armed to the teeth.

Grampa has always been a kind, gentle, and loving man. He loves to talk to people, always coming home from the grocery store with a story about meeting "this guy" next to the watermelons or "this guy" in the checkout line.

These days he putters around his house and yard, always busy with some project or other. He'll probably take it easy today, although I'm sure my family that lives nearby will make sure he gets a cake and some presents.

Happy Birthday, Grampa! Wish I were there!