I do my best work in the bathroom

One thing I've learned after reading all of these books about "not so big" houses and well-designed houses is that with a little bit of creativity you can often repurpose your existing spaces to make them suit your needs. Sometimes that means adding a wall of desk and bookshelves to a dining room and turning it into a dining room/library. Sometimes that means putting curtains around beds in rooms where kids share to give each child some private space. In my house, it means turning the bathroom into an office.

It sounds totally insane, I know. But I have this big long built-in vanity in the master bathroom, and it's empty. I'm not much of a makeup girl (and Maren's current obsession with lipstick means that any makeup I do have does not go in the vanity), but it's got great lighting, a stool to sit on, and enough room for my laptop, a drink, a stack of books, two toothbrushes, a contact lens case, my wedding rings, a bottle of saline, and some deodorant. If I don't turn the water on, I can even spread out a bunch of papers.

The best part of working in the bathroom is that it's blissfully quiet-- far enough away from the yelling in the playroom and the sound of football games blaring in the family room and the banging on the piano in the living room to actually think and get some work done. Another thing I've learned from reading all of those books about houses and floor plans is that I want a slightly less open plan than we currently have-- because the dueling banjos of the tv and the piano are just too much for my ears most of the time. As long as Bryce continues to play "Song of the Volga Boatmen" eight hundred times a day, the room with our piano in it really needs to have a door.

Anyway, when Virginia Woolf talked about how a woman needed a room of her own to be able to tap into her creativity, I doubt she was thinking of a bathroom. In my next house, I hope to have a room with a door, a desk and a comfy chair where I can spread out-- but I guess the bathroom will do for now.

1. quiet bathrooms
2. finding chocolate cake in the freezer
3. our bedtime competition seems to be working!

Relying on my community

I'm reading House Thinking by Winifred Gallagher right now, and one of the book's most interesting sections discusses the way Americans of different social classes view moving and home improvements. College-educated Americans, who often left home to go away to college, seem to be more open to the idea of settling far from their families of origin, while those without college educations seem more likely to live near extended families. So when it comes time for most college-educated people to improve their homes, they can't call on brothers and sisters and cousins to come pitch in and help them raise their barns, they have to call on professionals.

We live very far from our families right now, but I was able to draw on a friend in my virtual neighborhood, Courtney, to help me redesign my blog. I've been staring at an ugly header for months, stressing over the milk/sweat dripping from my fellow runner's nipple, from comments that I was flaunting my body in an unseemly way and from the overall junky, unstreamlined look of the blog. Courtney took my pictures, cropped them and created something beautiful-- something that should give visitors to my blog a good idea what it's about-- a mom who loves to run. So thank you very, very much Courtney!

1. a pretty blog header
2. the primary sacrament meeting is done!
3. Sunday afternoon naps

A letter:

Dear anonymous woman in spinning class this morning:

When you walked into the spinning room at 8:12, it was obvious that you were a first-timer. I'm not sure what gave you away, if it was your lack of a towel, or your heavy Hanes sweatpants, or your less-than-svelte physique, or your long-sleeved t-shirt, or your hair falling all about your shoulders instead of pulled up and off your neck (it helps with the sweating, I promise), but it was clear that you had no idea what you had stumbled into.

After several years of spinning classes, I've seen lots of first-timers, few who end up being repeat customers. Most quit before even getting through the first class is done. There were two first-timers in class this morning (you may have noticed the fit guy on the other side of the room who decided to come along with his wife), and if I were a betting woman, I would have put money on you dropping out before he did. After all, even though he was brand-new, he looked like he belonged.

But you surprised me. When we jumped, you jumped. When we cranked up the gear, I saw you doing it too. It's true that you were drenched and looked exhausted at the end of class, but you finished, which is more than we can say for the other newcomer, who staggered out, headed for the nearest bathroom as fast as his weakened legs would carry him. You probably thought you were learning something new when you were spinning today, and even though I've been going to the class for years, I felt like I did too.

Thanks.

1. lazy days with the kids
2. getting my long run out of the way on Friday
3. primary pizza parties

So many restaurants, so little time....

Now that we only have six months left in Houston, it seems important to try to experience as much of the city as possible. A few months ago, I sat down with Citysearch and tried to figure out which restaurants we should visit at least once before we leave for Salt Lake City, and frankly, the experience was depressing. There were just so many good places to eat-- it would be impossible to hit them all.

We had a babysitter tonight and picked one of the places off our list (Benjy's in Rice Village, for the fellow Houstonians). It was hip and had a great menu. The food was fantastic, the chocolate cake even better. I'd go back tomorrow night if I had the chance. But the problem with actually finding a place I love on the endless to-visit list of Houston restaurants is that now I feel compelled to go someplace new when we actually go to the trouble of getting a babysitter instead of revisiting a place we already know we like.

I guess that in a city of nearly six million people, I just need to resign myself to the fact that even if I ate out three meals a day every day between now and next June, I'd barely scratch the surface in places to eat, or even in good places to eat, in Houston. I'll leave and still feel like I never really dug down deep and sucked the marrow out (Eddie had osso bucco for dinner, so we were talking about Billy Collins and sucking marrow at dinner). I love the endless possibilities of Houston, but I think I'll ultimately be more comfortable in Salt Lake, a smaller city in which it might be possible to feel a little bit of mastery. I want to live in a place that I feel like I know like the back of my hand, and where mapquest no longer serves as my best friend.

Guess what I found this morning?

I'll give you one clue-- Eddie is exonerated.

The shirt was in the bottom of my boys' laundry basket. No telling how it got there.

I just wonder if I have enough time to wash and dry it before book club tonight? I'm hoping it might tamp down on the inevitable comparisons between Obama and Hitler.

1. Fully functioning kitchen appliances!
2. One day down on the cardiology boards
3. Making a dent on my DVR backlog

A House Divided (aka, dude, where's my shirt?, aka Happy Birthday to Me!)

Watching election numbers streaming in, balloons dropping and presidential-elects speaking isn't as much fun when the person you're watching them with is curled up in the fetal position. Eddie knows this well-- after all, he lived with me during the aftermath of the Bush-Gore elections, where I stewed and steamed for months, and the Bush-Kerry elections, which was quicker, but also more painful because I already knew what I had to endure four more years of. But when the tables were turned last night, I couldn't resist doing a little bit of gloating, and he did his requisite bit of grumbling too.

But I think he did something even more insidious. I think he stole my shirt.

I wore my new Obama Mama shirt on Saturday. I had plans to do some more shameless gloating by wearing it to my ward's cooking club this morning (sometimes I'm mean that way). I searched through all of my drawers, rifled through dirty laundry and went on a hunt through kids' closets and under beds. It's gone. When I asked Eddie about it last night, he laughed, and denied any involvement. But did he laugh because he thought it was funny that I lost it, or did he laugh because he was responsible for its disappearance? I can't tell. Unfortunately, he's made himself unavailable for comment today (he's taking cardiology boards). I hope that once his test is over, his mood will improve and he'll decide to return the shirt as a peace offering. Otherwise I'm buying a new one.

I suppose I could call the new shirt a birthday present. My birthday is January 20th, also known as Inauguration Day. Ever since my 18th birthday, the day Clinton was elected for the first time, I've been disappointed on those birthdays that coincided with the presidential inauguration (I was in Democratic denial during the Clinton years). This time, I might even throw a party. But can it be a bipartisan party, or should I make Eddie stay away? If he doesn't return my shirt, he might not make the guest list.

1. finally figuring out how to bake bread!
2. girls night out
3. historic elections

The boy in blue

This morning Bryce and Annie woke up and got dressed for school. At the breakfast table, I joked with them about how they were both wearing, "Red State Red" and asked them if they were undergoing some deathbed repentance and throwing their weight behind McCain. Bryce rolled his eyes, as if to say, "You're so lame, Mom, and turned back to his chocolate milk." Annie lobbied unsuccessfully to go back upstairs and change into her navy polo dress.

An hour or so later, Isaac and I went upstairs to get him dressed for preschool. I had forgotten about the breakfast conversation, but Isaac started rifling through his underwear drawer for blue underpants. Satisfied by a pair with a blue waistband, he then requested a blue shirt, blue jeans and blue shoes. He was disappointed not to find any blue socks. Then he said, "Do you think Miss Annie will know I want to vote for Barack Obama?"

An apology:

Dear Mom,

Remember how we sat at the computer last week and you ordered presents for Maren's second birthday? We decided that since she doesn't really need a darn thing, we'd throw caution to the wind and fill her with Dora-related paraphernalia to her heart's content. Do you remember calling me to tell me that you had confirmation from Amazon that the Big Sister Talking Nursery addition to the Dora Talking House was on its way? I do. (For the record, I'm glad you got while the getting's good, because it's now being sold for four times the price you paid).

It arrived yesterday, right in the middle of the witching hour. I was making dinner, pushing laundry and trying to keep the kids out of the Halloween candy when the UPS man arrived. Isaac pounced on the box and started tearing the tape off. I yelled, "STOP! That's a birthday present for Maren! Don't open it." Then I returned to boiling spaghetti and making caesar salad.

A couple of minutes later, I heard a high pitched squeal. I thought someone was hurt, but before I even had the chance to set down the glasses in my hand and investigate, I heard "Da-wuh! Soopuh-Babies! Soopuh-Babies!"
I guess that Isaac's birthday party a few weeks ago taught Maren a thing or two about unwrapping boxes. She also must have learned about the benefits of eavesdropping somewhere along the way. Because she stood before me, long strip of tape in one hand, trying to extricate the nursery box from the Amazon box with the other. I tried taking it away. She screamed. I figured that she'd forget about it. She insisted on having it on the dinner table along side her. She even wanted to bring the box (almost as big as she is) into the bathtub with her. I started to realize that she was not going to forget. So I opened it. She hasn't set down the Soopuh-Babies since. She bathed with them. She slept with them. They've now got remnants of Lucky Charms stuck to their little plastic bodies.

The good news is, she loves her birthday present. The bad news is that it's still almost two months until her birthday.

Before you pack away the Halloween decorations...

...try to get your hands on a copy of this book and pack it away for next year. My mom bought my kids a copy several years ago, and it is the cutest Halloween book ever-- when all of the fairy tale characters get down and shake it all around. Even Maren will walk around the house saying "shake, shake, shake 'dem bones now." Unfortunately, our copy bit the dust this year, after several years of creative taping (it has one of those cheap Scholastic bindings) and I have to order us a new one for next year, because Halloween just wouldn't be Halloween without Shake Dem Halloween Bones.

NaBloPoMo, Can I Take a Break? and Mormon Histories

It's National Blog Posting Month, which means that bloggers everywhere will test themselves against writer's block and try to post every.single.day for the month of November. Always up for a challenge, I decided to throw my hat in the ring. We'll see how long I can persist. I'm already a day behind, which doesn't bode well, I guess...

Yesterday I didn't run. And I had no good reason for not heading out the door. It's November, which means that it's almost always beautiful in South Texas, and yesterday was no exception. I just didn't feel like going when the alarm went off. I can't tell you how long it's been when I just didn't run on a Saturday morning, with no good excuse (no tapering, injuries, trips, etc...) I expected it to feel liberating, but I was crabby all day. I guess I really am that crazy. I even considered using my extra hour of sleep this morning to go out and get started on the 18-miler that was on my running schedule, but I figured that I couldn't run 18 miles on a fast Sunday and still remain standing through my Primary and Nursery subbing gigs.

I'm feeling sort of rootless right now. I haven't decided if I want to run the Kingwood Marathon, which I ran last New Year's Day as my virgin marathon voyage. You may remember that it was a horrible race for me, and I'm feeling some reluctance to get on the bandwagon and sign up again. I also want to make sure I don't burn out before the Boston-Wasatch Back-St.George/Top of Utah sweep that will start next April and end in October. But not having anything to train for makes me crabby too. I have about a week to decide before the window of opportunity will slam shut and I won't have time to train properly. What should I do? And more importantly, can I get through the holidays and still fit into my jeans if I'm not running 20 miles every Saturday morning?

Finally, I just posted a two-part series on my Mormon History over at fMh. Check it out here and here.