Erika Mitchell's Blog, page 34

SNOWPACALYPSE

As you know if you've read my About page or have been reading my blog for awhile, I live in Washington state. Wes, Aidan, and I call a small suburb about half an hour away from Seattle home.

As you can tell by how I referred to distance in terms of time, I'm not originally from here. I'm a California transplant, one of the most-loathed imports in this area for reasons inscrutable to me. I've lived here for twelve years, so I'm hardly fresh off the airplane anymore so I doubt anyone can tell I'm not a WA original.

Anyway, one of the things I've learned since moving here is that Washington is a state of extremes. If you have six inches of snow in a few hours one winter, you'll probably get bupkes in terms of snow the next year. If you have one summer that's blistering hot, with endless days sans rain or clouds, the next summer will probably be cloudy, humid, and blah.

Last year's winter was mild, with hardly any snow worth mentioning, which means, of course, that this year was the SNOWPACALYPSE.

Snow in Washington is treacherous, which means that when it starts sticking to the roads you should probably hunker down and leave your car (or SUV) in the garage unless you absolutely have to leave.

Why? Because of HILLS! We have hills! Everywhere! Huge hills! Icy hills! Bobsled-run grade hills!

And ice! And other bad drivers (hi, fellow Californians!), and did I mention the hills that people slide off of?

It's a mess.

Add to that a power outage thanks to snow-laden, frozen tree branches crashing down on power lines and you have a huge mess. A power outage is challenging enough as it is, but when it's twenty-something degrees outside it can get downright perilous.

The one nice thing about the snow though? Refrigeration! Did you know that if you take all the food out of your fridge and bury it in the snow, it won't go bad? The more you know.

Still, chilled food aside, the low outside temperatures can be a big problem. When our house's temperature dropped down to 61 degrees after eight hours without power, Wes and I packed up Aidan and braved the mile-long drive to Wes's parents' house. They have two gas fireplaces that keep their place nice and toasty.

Plus, they have people to talk to there. After eight hours without power, Wes and I were starting to run out of stuff to talk about. And did you know that you can't shoot zombies on your Wii without power? LAME!

Snow and utility woes be darned, we survived last week. Not only did we survive, we had a lot of fun. We played catch with Aidan in the snow, we played our guitar and clarinet for Aidan, and Wes gave our son his first snow driving lesson.

The biggest takeaway I got from that lesson? Don't drive in the snow. It's dangerous, and cars in the snow = death traps. I'm from California, you won't convince me otherwise. I'd feel much more comfortable taking a dog sledding team to the grocery store.

I doubt the dogs would enjoy schlepping me and my groceries around, though. Too bad! I shall pay them with sirloin and all will yet be well!

Can you tell I haven't left the house much lately?

Sneak Attack Dining

Wes gifted me with a day off on Saturday, to spend however I wished. I opted to do my hair and makeup and then spend time at a coffee shop for an hour, writing and editing, and then meet a friend for lunch and a movie.

(We saw Contraband, for the record, and enjoyed it)

With my hair and makeup still looking so pretty, Wes decided when I got home that he wanted to take me out for dinner. We dropped Aidan off with his grandparents and scooted.

Wes had done a search for the best local restaurants and found an Italian one he wanted to try (you can check out their menu here). When we pulled up, we were a little skeptical.

It was in a strip mall, with a jungle of vegetation outside and neon lights on the windows. It looked…Umm…Like not the kind of place you expect to find really yummy Italian food.

Still, we would not be deterred. We walked in and found a tiny little restaurant crammed full of patrons. We were seated at one of the last empty tables and promptly attended by one of the best waiters I've ever had.

Everything we had there was absolutely scrumptious, surpassing our expectations and ensuring we went home with happy bellies stuffed full.

As we left, I looked back at the restaurant. Sandwiched between a Mexican supply store with a display of cowboy boots in the window and a self-service dog washing store, it was completely unassuming. You would never think it was voted one of the best restaurants in that city.

If I had just been walking by, I probably would not have given that restaurant a second thought, and that would have been a mistake.

It just goes to show you…Sometimes eating at shady, rinky-dink places gives you salmonella. But sometimes it gives you the best surprise dining experience of your life.

Change of Plans

Children are the great game changers. There's an old saying: If you want to make God laugh, make plans.

I'd like to amend that to say: If you want to help your children learn adorable sabotage, make plans.

There are very few plans I've made in the two years since Aidan joined our family that he hasn't tried to derail in some way. Like, for example, the day he was born.

He was born on his due date, which happened to be a Wednesday. I figured he had a really small chance of being born on his due date (like, only a 5% chance) so I made some plans. I was on maternity leave and figured it was the one day I could count on him to not be born, so why not make plans to meet my friend for lunch?

And then BAM! I woke up that morning at 3:30 am with contractions. NO LUNCH FOR ME.

Another example is the writer's conference I went to. It was the first time in his whole 1.5 years of life that I was planning to be away for a couple days. I made plans to have family members take care of him, and then I eagerly anticipated getting to mingle and network and learn and feed only myself.

Sure enough, the day before the conference Aidan threw up all over the patio. It later turned out he was just fine, but I still stayed home from the conference the next day because a sick baby needs his mama.

Or, for yet another example, the vacation Wes and I took last year. It was the first vacation we'd taken in two years and we knew it was likely the last chance we'd have to get away for another couple years.

Wouldn't you know it? Aidan got sick the day before we left, and got me sick too to boot. Wes's poor mom had the dubious pleasure of caring for our sick baby, and I had the dubious pleasure of sneezing my way through Victoria, BC.

And now we have Tiny Baby, the latest addition to the Mitchell family. Tiny Baby has decided to differentiate him/herself from Aidan by making my pregnancy chock full of thrills and mysteries. One of these mysteries necessitates me having to take it easy for the rest of my pregnancy, which means yet another change in plans: No exercising.

I'd been planning to keep walking on the treadmill throughout my pregnancy, and maybe start reincorporating some weight training once I got through the first trimester, but no dice.

This'll just make it even more satisfying to lose the baby weight, right? It's always more fun to have even more work to do, right?

Sigh. Still, I have cute babies so it's worth it. And soon I'll have all kinds of cute baby weight to lose, too!

No One Enjoys Mouth Breathing (except scuba divers)

You never realize how amazing it is to breathe through your nose until you have a cold for three straight weeks and are deprived of the pleasure. Then? Then breathing through your nose is the only way to live and you feel like you might suffocate in your sleep thanks to some toddler's wayward germs and aversion to sneezing into his sleeve.

Not that I'm talking about any toddler in particular. Ahem. AIDAN.

Seriously though, I always feel such joie de vivre when I'm fully recovered from a bout with illness of any kind. While watching my bathrooms grow grubbier day by day as I lay on my sickbed (i.e. the couch) I wished for energy. I wished for health. I wished for Netflix to just skip to the next episode of Thomas the Train already instead of making me get off the effing couch every half hour.

Yes, I let the TV entertain my child when I'm incapable of breathing through my nose. Judge me silently if you must.

Now, though? In the cold light of a winter's day to which I awoke without a horrible hacking cough and sore throat that made me feel like I swallowed a wire grill brush?

I AM SUPERWOMAN.

Thanks to my newfound amazing health and also the second trimester (my favorite of the trimesters, indisputably the very best one) there is nothing I can't do. Clean bathrooms, windows, hardwood floors, counters, and clothes? Check. Vacuum all the carpets I have access to? Check. Polish the tables, thus freeing them from the scurf of the thrillion and a half meals we served and ate on them over the holidays? CHECK.

I may already be missing some crucial pieces to my son's Christmas toys, but gosh dang it I am back! I am alive! I can now set to work removing the imprint of my sad, sorry self from the cushions of my couch!

That is, until Aidan inevitably picks up yet another illness from the Sunday school nursery (or, as I've begun to call it in my bitter little head, The Pandemic Breeding Ground). I love the ability to sit through church knowing Aidan is playing with trains and loving his life, but I really wish he didn't come home with his very own edition of the Pestilence Plague every week.

Oh, well. It's building a good immune system for my boy, yes? I am capable of looking at the bright side of this situation, because I can breathe through my nose.

Don't Dream It, Be It

My friend Brooke shared her New Year's goals on her blog the other day and it was as I crafted a comment for her post that I started thinking about why I eschew New Year's resolutions in favor of goals.

I think this is why: A year is a long time. A lot can change, from jobs, to health, to living circumstances, to obligations. I think it's prudent to avoid picking fights I can't win (one of my favorite parenting axioms, actually) and, as such, refuse to set myself up for failure.

Why make a resolution I know I can't keep? If I can't control the circumstances surrounding my commitments, I see little value in taking them on unless there's value in the attempt.

Like, for instance, the infamous weight loss resolution. It's a cliche, but for good reason. I can't imagine the people who make this resolution only recently decided they needed to lose weight, so why the arbitrary timeline? Why give yourself a year to lose weight? That just seems like license to backslide to me.

When I lost a whole bunch of weight last year, I borrowed a motto from AA: Yesterday's history, and tomorrow's a mystery. I can't change what I ate yesterday, and I have no idea what kind of temptations will assault me tomorrow, so all I have is today. And I can eat well for one day. It worked.

And I suppose that's the heart of my problem with New Year's Resolutions. They seem destined to fail unless they're coupled with a plan and some steely resolve. And you can't give yourself a year to execute a plan. Steely resolve isn't self-replicating.

You have to push the execute button every single day, from the moment you wake up, and shore up your resolve with the little victories you earn along the way. A year is too much time, it gives you every excuse and obstacle in the world.

A resolution is, by definition, determination. Why set yourself up to fail? If you're going to make goals, or big life changes, take them on one at a time. Pick the time and place of your battle and then win it. January and the advent of a new year don't factor into it.

That's why I set out my hopes for the new year instead. It's fun to think about what I want to accomplish in the new year, but it also gives me space and room to accommodate whatever challenges might sneak-attack me along the way.

Because when I make a goal, when I resolve to do something, it's getting done. If I have to move a mountain to do it, it's happening. I don't care how many cups of decaf or cupcakes get hurt along the way, stuff is going down.

Let your yes be yes, and your no be no. Don't dream it, be it. Be a force to be reckoned with, and Heaven help anyone who stands in your way.

Adios, 2011!

I was chatting with a friend yesterday and she mentioned something interesting. She said her mother has a saying: "Odd numbered years tend to have lots of problems, even numbered years are better."

It gave us both pause. I mean, in order to establish whether or not you agree with that statement you have to think over the events of an entire year. Obviously no year is going to be entirely devoid of problems, but can you really say even years have fewer of them?

For us, 2011 was a pretty banner year. Wes started working as lead developer doing work he loves, lost 20 pounds, made it into the diamond league at Starcraft, and developed a new coding technique that his company's clients are going crazy for. I wrote a book, got published, went to my first writer's conference, lost 40 pounds, and got pregnant. Aidan learned to walk, started talking, discovered a deep and abiding love for Thomas the Train, and got even cuter (we didn't think that was going to be possible, but somehow he managed anyway).

We celebrated Aidan's first birthday, went to the Opera, took a couple little vacations, and made tons of memories with friends, families, and strangers. Yeah, there were problems along the way, but very few of them were big enough for me to remember their specifics.

As for us, I'm not sure the odd years = bad, even years = good rule applies. I mean, unless 2012 is going to be even more exciting than 2011 was. Hard to believe, but an enticing prospect nonetheless.

Here are my hopes for 2012:

A healthy, happy little baby in July.
Finishing my zombie apocalypse novel.
Signing an agent to represent my accountant novel.
Losing at least half my baby weight by the end of the year.
Getting good enough at playing Resident Evil on the Wii that I can reliably outrank my husband.
Getting a good haircut, and then mastering styling said haircut.
Teaching my son to swim.
Making more time to blog.
Writing another short story.

How about you? What are your hopes for 2012? Do you fall under the odd years = bad, even years = good rule?

We Survived!

After and overly ambitious Christmas weekend filled with dinners, brunches, friends, and family, I'm entering the last week of 2011 feeling bedraggled but happy, sick but content.

What a weekend! We hosted two Christmas dinners and two Christmas brunches, with all the grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, and dishes that implies. Our very house feels exhausted, as though it simply cannot fathom the idea of welcoming one more person into it.

Still, it was worth it. I realized one night, after the dishes were done and I was sleep-walking my way through washing my hair, that if you have enough friends and family to celebrate Christmas with that you feel exhausted by the end of it, you are a very blessed person. If all those people effectively exhaust your toddler too so he sleeps well, then that's just bonus blessing.

In case you're curious about some of the food we made this weekend, here are some highlights I recommend:

Vegetable Tarte Tatin This dish stole the show! It's a bit tricky to make but so worth it, the combination of flavors is lovely and it's so pretty to serve.
Smashed Potato Gratin Maybe we smashed the potatoes a little too much, but this dish seemed to us to be just really fancy mashed potatoes. That said, they're absolutely scrumptious fancy mashed potatoes.
Baked French Toast Casserole I made this for brunch on Christmas Eve, and served it with eggs and bacon. So tasty! The bread turns custardy overnight and the praline topping rounds it off nicely. Plus, you make this the night before so there's less prep time in the morning.

As Aidan plays with his multitude of new toys, content and calm as a tiny Hindu cow, I can't help but feel blessed. Blessed and content and calm. And tired. Oh, so very tired. How was your weekend?

Hairy Situation

I did my hair on Wednesday. For those who know me in real life, you'll know this merits a blog post because I almost never do my hair. This is not an exaggeration. I can count the number of times I did my hair this whole year using less than one whole hand's worth of fingers.

It's not that my hair is impossible, per se. From what I've been told, my hair is thick and has a lot of body and, with the right tools, can look rather lovely.

The problem is me. Not only do I have very little idea how to style my hair, I have a lethal lack of inclination to do so. I'm a stay at home mom who does housework most of every day, why would I bother to do my hair and try to keep it out of my face every day when I could just throw it up in a ponytail and be done with it?

Even though this remains true, I've decided to conquer this particular shortcoming of mine. 2012 is going to be the year I learn how to do my hair.

Why? Well, that's a complicated question. Why does any woman learn how to make herself look prettier? Because she likes the end result, because she likes the way others feel about the end result, because it self actualizes some inner expectation she has for herself. Sometimes the answer is a combination of all three.

For me, I suppose the answer is that I'm tired of not being able to do this for myself. That and I might be carrying around a teeny tiny daughter, and I want to be able to teach her girly stuff someday if she wants to learn.

I don't want to be intimidated by doing her hair, or feel like I'm all thumbs when she asks me how to put on foundation or straighten her hair.

I want to feel confident that I can be a resource to her, and help her avoid unfortunate hair mistakes. That is, of course, if she'll listen to me.

Then again, I could be carrying another boy, in which case this endeavor is somewhat less altruistic and more self indulgent. I mean, I'll be happier when I feel like I can make myself look as nice as possible, and I think my hair is the last piece of the puzzle.

So. 2012. This will be the year I learn to do my hair. And possibly publish another novel. And finish my zombie apocalypse novel. And have another baby.

It's gonna be a good year.

Come On Down!

This post almost didn't happen because I inadvertently feel asleep before I could reach for my laptop. I snoozed my productive afternoon hours away, and when I woke up I was afflicted with the Dreaded Post-Nap Lethargy and thought sitting on the couch sounded like more fun than, y'know, doing my job.

But sitting there wasn't an option because even though I'm in possession of a stack of my own books, the people who entered my giveaway do not have a stack of my books, and are probably excited to find out who won a copy.

You would be so proud of me. Foggy-headed step by foggy-headed step I crossed the kitchen, unplugged my laptop, and then made a list of the people who entered, taking into account how many times they entered (people who were existing Facebook fans got an additional entry, etc.).

Then, I went to Random.org and let them pick the number. Out of 6 entrants, there were 13 entries total and Random.org picked number…

8

Congrats, number 8! Your real name is Daniel Siegel! I'll send you an email in a couple minutes to get your address and then ship your book out to you as soon as I can.

For everyone else who entered, thank you for wanting to win my book in the first place. That probably sounds dumb, but the fact that you took time out of your day to enter to win my book warms my little author heart all the way down to its gooey center. I'll do another giveaway soon.

A Giveaway For the Ages

You could win your very own copy to photograph in weird places!

Now that the first trimester of pregnancy has loosed its clutches on me a wee bit, I feel well enough to offer to go to the post office for you. In fact, not only do I feel well enough to go to the post office, I could even stand to sign my name first, and then go to the post office.

How nice am I, right?!

Especially considering I'm reading Jen Lancaster's book If You Were Here and having trouble tearing myself away from it long enough to do anything else. Like, you know, showering, feeding my child, laundry. The stuff I'm supposed to be doing.

So what am I saying? I'm saying I'd like to do a giveaway. I'd like to send you a free book. And not just any free book, the very book I wrote with my own two index fingers! (I don't type properly, I'm the fastest hunt-and-pecker you've ever met)

This giveaway comes just in time for the holidays, so you can re-gift it to your heart's content! Just think of it as a free gift to bring to a gift exchange, or even an easy gift to give to any gamers you might know.

The best part? All you have to do to enter is leave a comment. It can be a one word comment, or even just an exclamation point. Shoot, it can be a copy-and-pasted preamble to the Constitution for all I care. Just leave a comment, and you're entered to win.

Additional ways to enter:

"Like" my author page on Facebook (and leave a comment letting me know you did)
"Follow" me on Twitter (again with the letting me know you did thing)
Tweet/Facebook about the giveaway (do I even need to be redundant about letting me know about this?)
Blog about the giveaway (this one's worth two entries just by itself)

So that's it. Five different ways to enter to win a free book. You have 48 hours. Get cracking!