The sports fan

Our Josh is a true-blue sports fan.

He comes by the trait honestly, from his Dad.  The child has been keeping track of game scores for several years now, surprising us all with his affinity for numbers at an early age.

His birthday present from Nana and Papa this year was an outing with Papa to a Timbers' game in September.

Yep, running just a little behind in the journaling part of the blog. 

The Timbers are Portland's soccer players. I think soccer may be Josh's favourite game, so I went through all kinds of conniptions finding tickets on the secondary market, as all of the games were already sold out for the season. That's how fanatical Portlanders are about their Timbers!

I was very noble and let Jeff do the honours on this one.

Did you catch my sarcasm there? Because you know how I love sports!

I made the boy some oatmeal gf/df cookies to take for snacks, figuring there would be little that he could eat at the game.

Plus, I'm cheap like that.

And I made him a smoothie, which he didn't finish all the way so he took it with him to drink in the car.

I found it in Jeff's car in a curdled clump a few days later.

That boy!

Yep, there's that smoothie cup!

He is just as cute as can be, and gets so enthused about sports that I have to chuckle.

The seats were in the nosebleed section but the view was great and they took binoculars.

So much for my frugal leanings. Papa just had to buy him a Timbers hat that was a little on the side of large.

He looks as cool as a cucumber, doesn't he?

We love this boy.

Alone again, naturally

Hands up if you remember Gilbert O'Sullivan, the Irish singer who was known for his gorgeous ballads.

His lyrics were expressive and his melodies were fluid and mellow. 

Unfortunately, as happened to so many musicians, his fame dwindled quickly. Although he still writes and performs, his star has never risen to its former heights.

This song, from 1972, takes me right back to my sixteen-year-old self.

I was rarely out of love in those days. If I had to count, I'd say I have loved deeply five times in my life. 

One was a whim: short-lived, passionate, and ill-considered.

One was unrequited but lasted for years, in between other romances.

Two were of relatively long duration and necessitated a similar recovery time.

Time when songs like this resonated with and validated my pain. 

But then, thirty-three years ago yesterday, I married my best love of all.

Flashback:

Being the advanced age of  twenty-three, I could hardly believe that I was finally getting married. I was just about the last of all my friends to achieve that desirable status, you see. In my disbelief, I found so many excuses to call Jeff on the morning of our marriage that he eventually got a bit annoyed with me.

True story.

But he still showed up to the wedding.

This Christmas, I was blown away by this gift.

It contains all of the letters I wrote to Mum in the first two years we were married. Bethany spent many hours scanning letters and photos and formatting the book, and the other kids contributed to the cost.

I have loved reading over the letters and reminiscing about those bitter-sweet days, when we were always money-poor but surrounded by love and, in quick succession, two wee babies. I had forgotten so much about my babies and the many hardships through which we clambered in our early days. I've been feeling a bit Alzheimer-ish, as my mind has been lingering in the genesis of our life together, colouring my "now" with shades of the past.

Just for a kick, and for your edification, I unearthed a few oldies-but-goodies and did a little creative editing to jazz them up.

Which reminds me, Bethany, the photo collection was a little slim. Are you the culprit?

Here we are, pre-marriage, on a hill in Auckland somewhere.

My sister probably took this photo.

Here we are with our first baby, Bethany, who was only a day old.

Wow, we were a lot prettier back then!

And then we were four.

And five. Little Charlie is not there yet, but our beloved Uncle (Grampa) Charlie is there instead.

And Nana.

On one of our weekend getaways, in Jacksonville.

The leggings are awesome, which is why I cropped them out.

Crop tool is my friend.

And here we all are with our first adored grandbaby, McKenzie!

We don't often dress up for Halloween, but I think we did ourselves proud in this one. I don't even remember where we were. Does anyone recognize the chandelier? 

Jeff looks quite dashing with a mo.

The Pirate and the Geisha.

Wait, that is Jeff, isn't it?

Just because I like this one.

On the Trail of the Couer d'Alenes.

Morning hike in the Redwoods, where it was dark enough to need a flash.

Which may explain our glazed expressions.

About halfway through the day yesterday I remembered that it was the 26th. 

I was leaving for a meeting, so as I kissed Jeff goodbye I said, Happy Anniversary dear!

Oh, right, I forgot. 

He seemed rather abashed.

He's never quite recovered from forgetting our 25th, when I had gone all out with a thoughtful present and nice dinner and he completely blew it. 

That's okay, I said. I know, let's buy a house for our anniversary!

Good idea, he said.

So we did!

And I am all alone again, naturally, as he is back in Central Oregon after a weekend at home.

P.S. I think maybe the Geisha was at a Bunco party at the B's. Feel free to confirm that fact if you know.

Ring Out, Wild Bells!

There's a wad of undocumented Osborne shenanigans waiting for my attention. And because this is the record of my life, you will just have to soldier on. 

Or check out. 

I suppose you could do that. 

Just don't tell me, 'kay? I'm sensitive.

Jeff and I spent the weekend before New Year's Day house-hunting on the other side of Oregon, as previously told. On our way home, as we drove through such magical scenery as this,

I said to The Man, I think I need to throw a New Year's Eve party. 

Because, you see, other than the house search, which was very exciting, we had been quite bored. The temperatures had been too cold to do much outside exploring, so we were confined to the hotel for much of the time. And I didn't want to be bored any more!

So I did.

It was a small, eclectic group, and we ate delicacies and played a silly game and enjoyed each others' company.

Christie brought some penguin hors d'oeuvres that were the hit of the night. 

Olives, cream cheese, carrots, and pimientos, if I remember correctly.

And Ellen, who is getting to be quite famous for her decorated cookies, played to the theme of the evening.

The stalwarts lasted until 11:30 pm, which is almost a record.

Don't laugh. You will be old some day too!

The next day, Jon and his old bestie, Ryan, came over. The three boys played shoot-'em-up video games all day. It was nostalgic, because Jon and Ryan used to sit out in this room when it was Jon's bedroom (as well as the rec room) and play Star Wars card games, surrounded by Star Wars action figures and a large Yoda and with the movie playing on the old television. It was the ultimate Star Wars immersion and so cute you just wanted to freeze them in time forever.

Here they are from the front.

And here they are from the back.

And yes, there are two televisions in the action.

And that's pretty much all I saw of them till Ryan had to go home.

P.S. Do you see that old wooden chair that Jon is using? I have great plans for that chair and its partner, which I acquired on Freecycle. A bit of creative painting (I speak in hopeful terms here) and they will be spirited away to the new house. 

Day 25: You think you have problems?

I have noticed lately a phrase that has started cropping up in the written word and conversation: first world problems.
While it could get to be an overused and annoying phrase, I think it is worth examining.
Let's see. How about I gained ten pounds over the holidays and I can't seem to lose it.
First world problem.
Or My dishwasher broke and I don't have the money to fix it.
First world problem.
And I just can't find the perfect paint colour for my living room (fabric for my daughter's bedding, clock for my wall, dress for the prom, favours for my wedding reception).
First. World. Problem.

Just to be clear, I have friends that are dealing with terrible health issues or struggles like job loss, and I am not diminishing their plights at all. I am just attempting to put things into perspective.

Let me illustrate further, hoping that you will not hate me for my impatience with the attitude.

I have almost twenty-five darling piano students (ranging in age from 5 to 15) that visit me weekly. I am quietly amused by the trends that I observe as I interact with them every week. For a couple of years, every time they couldn't grasp a concept or a piece, they would claim (almost to a person) that it was "confusing". I finally lost patience with the word and pronounced a ban on using it, ever, during piano lessons.
This is not confusing, I would assert. It may be a little challenging, but all of the tools that you need are right on the page in front of your eyes. Or, if I suspected it to be the case, I would predict that the student had not given enough thought or practice time to the item in question. The response was inevitably a doleful look of accusation, and I am sure the student was wondering why this proclamation of "confusing" had not worked as an alibi, when it obviously worked so well everywhere else!

So "confusing" eventually became a non-issue in my music room.

This last week, apart from a couple of girls rolling their eyes at me, I have heard, twice, the announcement from piano students that something was "hard".
The second time, I snapped a little inside and I said No. Living in a shack in Haiti with a dirt floor and no blanket to sleep on and a tin roof that leaks water on you every time it rains and only eating once every two days is hard. 
This isn't hard. 
This is just a little challenging.
And, to their credit, the girls who were the recipients of this wee rant had the grace to look abashed and admit that it was true.

It's not the first time I have countered the word with the argument.
And it won't be the last.
So I apologize in advance for the next time.
And, just so you know, I have this conversation with myself all the time.
Oh, my arm (foot, hip, whatever) hurts so much today. 
You big baby, you. You could be living in Haiti in a shack.....

Today, I am so grateful for the circumstances of my life. There have been challenges, but nothing like those that are faced by so much of the world. I don't know why I am so lucky, whether it was chance or destiny or whether I earned it or was given it by grace. It is one of the mysteries of life.

Day 24: New adventures

In keeping up the tradition of never having a dull moment, Jeff and Sue are about to embark on a new adventure. Jeff had accepted a job in Eastern Oregon, about three hours away from our present home on a good day. More like four when the passes are snowed in. 

We have decided to buy a second home and do the weekend thing, with Jeff making the drive most of the time and me going over there at least one long weekend a month. We are excited and a little terrified, but the way things have worked out we feel like it is what was meant to be.

Jeff has been seriously job searching for a year, with little success. He is in his late 50's and at the top of his field, so in this economy it has been a tough sell. The company he is joining wanted him badly and has gone many extra miles to entice him, so we are grateful for this new adventure. 

We spent the weekend in Redmond, looking for a house. We have always wanted some property over in the eastern part of the state, where nature is abundant and land is cheap. We were thinking a few acres on which to camp, but this spurred us to think more extravagantly.

We ended up in a development that our first realtor termed "zesty" but we thought was full of character, so we fired her and found one that was more in line with our way of thinking. We spent a day driving around, checking out houses that we thought might fit our budget and lifestyle, and narrowed it down to about eight that we wanted to tour. As we began our drive, we both noticed a very cute yellow house sitting on a slight rise. "I would love that house," said Jeff, and I agreed. We passed it again on our way out and I yelled,"Jeff, there's a For Sale sign!"

We couldn't believe it. I t was a little above our budget, but we picked up a flier and went back to the agent to give her our list.

The first house we saw the next day was this one.

We loved the wrap-around porch.

Jeff was immediately rapt with the gazebo.

The kitchen is serviceable, but not large.

Lots of light in the living room, although we couldn't figure out why the air conditioners were still in the windows when it was only twenty degrees outside.

This little mezzanine will be a perfect sleeping loft for the grandkids.

We saw other houses that day, but had trouble getting past the cute factor and panoramic mountain view of the first house. Plus, it is on one-and-a-half acres and across from a park and an undeveloped area of public land. Deer and rabbits roam freely about and the very reasonably priced home owner's association supports a swimming pool, basketball and tennis courts, other sports fields, and the best golf course in central Oregon.

We optimistically made a fairly low offer on the house and 24 hours later, to our surprise, the offer was accepted. 

So, in about a month, if all goes well, we will inhabit this little bit of paradise. The house is small and the bedrooms are a bit narrow for my liking and the staircase takes up too much living room space, but Jeff can find no flaws with it and it will be his main residence, so I let him win. 

I am already giddy with happiness about getting rid of a lot of my surplus supplies and sending them to Vista House.

Yes, it has a name.

The progeny are already making prodigious plans for their visits to the wild side of the state.

We will be fifteen minutes from Smith Rock, a favourite spot for the athletically inclined amongst us.

I plan to hike that zig-zag as soon as the snow melts.

Life is charging along, and today I am enormously thankful for the challenge and adventure that awaits us.

Day 23: Culinary customs

My Christmas baking repertoire has narrowed down to mostly two things:

Fruit cake, courtesy of a recipe from an old, dear friend, Norma Green. It is dense, moist, and full of buttery vanilla flavour. And, of course, lots of jeweled glace fruit and pecans.

I love the red cherries best of all.

Here's another one, just in case the first two weren't enough.

I also make a big batch of shortbread every Christmas. I like to press the dough into these molds that I got for 25c each after Christmas a few years ago.

The problem is, I can never remember, from one year to the next, which recipe I used last time. So some years the shortbread has been crispy and buttery, with the sugar almost caramelized as it slowly bakes.

Other years it is merely acceptable.

Like today's batch.

I think it is because the recipe I used tonight used powdered sugar instead of granulated, so tomorrow night I will try another recipe. I think I know which one.

Meanwhile, there is a humongous Tupperware full of small fruitcakes that will be distributed to lucky people.

But only the ones that love it.

And Jeff enjoyed a mug of homemade eggnog with a star-shaped piece of shortbread. 

He breathed in a crumb of the cookie and almost choked to death.

Would you like the recipes?
I thought so.

Norma's Fruit Cake
3 1/2 cubes of butter
2 c sugar
1/2 tsp baking soda dissolved in 1/2 c boiling water
2 oz vanilla
6 eggs
4 c flour
3 lbs dried and glace fruit and nuts of choice

Cream butter and sugar, add soda and water. Beat in vanilla and eggs. Stir in flour and lastly, the fruit mixture. Spray small baking pans with Pam and divide mixture between them. I usually make 6 small loaves with this amount. Bake at 250 degrees for 1 1/4 to 1 1/2 hours. Cakes are done when the top is firm, but you can poke with a toothpick to make sure.
I usually make double this recipe.

The tubs of glace fruit are prohibitively expensive, so I keep an eye on them in the produce section of Safeway after Christmas. Every two or three years, I find them marked down 75% and stock up.

Classic Shortbread
8 oz unsalted butter
1/2 c sugar
1/4 tsp salt
2 1/4 c flour

Cream butter and sugar. Work in flour and salt, knead lightly if necessary. Press into greased molds or 8" round pans. Prick dough with a fork. Bake at 300 degrees for about 30 minutes for small molds up to an hour for larger pans. Shortbread should be golden brown. Leave in pans until firm before tipping onto cooling rack. For larger rounds, cut into wedges while still hot in the pan.

Eggnog 

1 c milk
1 egg yolk
A few drops of vanilla and rum essences
Sugar to taste
A sprinkle of freshly grated nutmeg

Put half of the milk in a mug or small pan and whisk in egg yolk with immersion blender. Add essences and the rest of the milk. Heat slowly in microwave (or on stove top if using a pan), stirring often. Nog should thicken slightly when done. Add sugar to taste.

Today I am thankful that my fridge and freezer are stocked up with lots of butter.
Happy Christmas baking to you!

Day 22: Sew much to do

A couple of years ago, I determined to make use of the large amounts of fabric scraps that have monopolized the space in our smallest bedroom ever since it was happily vacated by some child or another for the bigger bedroom. Jeff complains once in a while, but not so much since he got his very own man-cave and started filling it with books and tools and all sorts of masculine paraphernalia.

So I started cutting out little squares and triangles of coordinating fabric. I have lots of samples from about thirty years ago, when I sewed for a friend who was in the business. I always knew they would come in handy some day! I pieced this top together and pinned it shortly after making my resolution, then ran out of courage when it came to the machine quilting part. 

I manned up this week and dug the sewing machine out of a heap of stuff.

The quilting isn't very complicated and sewed up pretty fast.

A little Google and a YouTube video got me past my fear of binding.

It is all very imperfect, just like me.

The pin-tucked white fabric in the centre of this square is from a wedding dress that I made almost thirty years ago. It had all sorts of pin-tucked sections and lace inserts and took about forty hours to complete. 

Pardon me if you've heard the story before, but this was when the Portland, Oregon LDS temple was being built and our family had been asked to contribute $200 to the building fund. It seemed like a fortune at the time, because Jeff was earning very little money and it was all we could do to pay the basic bills. I was working at a restaurant as a hostess, doing childcare, and also sewing for my friend. I couldn't think how we were going to come up with the money. Then my friend asked me to sew this wedding dress for some promotional thing she was doing. I charged her $200. Which, in retrospect, was too little money, but it was before I had gained a healthy respect for the value of my time. And it did solve the problem.

The strip of blue heart fabric is from Daisy Kingdom dresses that I made for Bethany and Annie one Easter. I still have the dresses, but apparently they are not stylish enough for today's girls.

They were considered to be very fashionable at the time, is all I'm saying.

So, the quilt is finished, just in time to be put in the mail for a very precious little boy.

And I am thankful for the sewing teachers that taught me, at the grand ago of twelve and thirteen, to use a sewing machine. And the kind lady from church who taught me, on a few Saturday mornings, some handy short-cuts and skills that have stayed with me all these years. 

It changed my life, in a good way.