Friday, February 15, 2008
The Pass-It-On Gift Exchange Fruits!
Please read the word "fruit" above with two syllables, as in the "froo-its of the devil." Also, say it quickly, so that the syllables are distinct, yet slurred. And then pretend that it's a verb.
Anyway, I came home from the other night, checked my mail, and was delighted to discover this sitting in my mailbox:
(Please notice the flowers running down the left-hand side of the package. I myself think I have performed an accomplishment that merits distinction if I perform the following steps: Acquire an item. Place it in a package suitable for the US Mail. Address it. Take it to the post office. Others, whom I will try very very hard not to hate, actually take the time to make their packages look attractive.)
Some of you may remember the post I made a while back about the Pay It Forward Craft Gift Exchange. I signed up purely out of avarice. I'd been salivating over my friend Karla's beautiful handmade crafts for several months at that point and was excited for the opportunity to grasp some in the palm of my sweaty little hand and call them my own.
I was not disappointed.
(If, due to my not-so-mad photography skillz, you can't tell what these items are, I will tell you: they are a cloth-bound diary, a hand-beaded necklace, and matching dangle earrings.)
Soren likes these items very much as well. He's particularly enamored with my earrings, which I have now designated as an accessory to be worn only at work, due to excessive fear that the holes in my ears may become tears through my ears if I wear them anywhere near my child.
This means, however, that I no longer have any excuses for not getting to work on the crafts that Holly, Loriann, and Brecken have signed up to receive. To the yarn store!
Anyway, I came home from the other night, checked my mail, and was delighted to discover this sitting in my mailbox:
(Please notice the flowers running down the left-hand side of the package. I myself think I have performed an accomplishment that merits distinction if I perform the following steps: Acquire an item. Place it in a package suitable for the US Mail. Address it. Take it to the post office. Others, whom I will try very very hard not to hate, actually take the time to make their packages look attractive.)Some of you may remember the post I made a while back about the Pay It Forward Craft Gift Exchange. I signed up purely out of avarice. I'd been salivating over my friend Karla's beautiful handmade crafts for several months at that point and was excited for the opportunity to grasp some in the palm of my sweaty little hand and call them my own.
I was not disappointed.
(If, due to my not-so-mad photography skillz, you can't tell what these items are, I will tell you: they are a cloth-bound diary, a hand-beaded necklace, and matching dangle earrings.)Soren likes these items very much as well. He's particularly enamored with my earrings, which I have now designated as an accessory to be worn only at work, due to excessive fear that the holes in my ears may become tears through my ears if I wear them anywhere near my child.
This means, however, that I no longer have any excuses for not getting to work on the crafts that Holly, Loriann, and Brecken have signed up to receive. To the yarn store!
Monday, February 11, 2008
Home
I'm currently at my parents' home, running loads of laundry through their machines, as we have yet to acquire such a luxury as an in-home washer and dryer. Another luxury we have yet to acquire at our new home is an internet connection, so I thought I'd take advantage of this opportunity to write.
We're in our new home! And I'm in love with our new neighborhood!
We've still got some work to do on our house (I'll post pictures when we've got an internet connection at our place, which will hopefully be sometime this afternoon), but it's coming along nicely and already feels like home. Soren had a rough couple of nights at first, but seems to be perfectly happy in his new environment. And he still gets to see Grandma and Grandpa a couple of times a week (because I, as Abraham likes to quote, "canno' stay away from th' titty"), a thing which brings him much joy.
On Saturday night Soren and I came home from the grocery store to find a thin young man wearing a Harley Davidson jacket plowing out the snow in our driveway with his four-wheeler. He said his name was Shane and that he and his wife, Katie, and their 16-month-old son, Coen, live right next door. I thanked him from clearing our sidewalk and driveway and he remarked, "Oh, well, we have a trailer and hog a lot of the parking space during the summer, so I thought I could maybe recompense by keeping the sidewalks clear." He looked like a very nice man. I'm planning on taking over cookies so that I can meet Katie and Soren can meet Coen.
The neighbor on the other side, Sr. Sotelo, has a continual stream of women coming in and out of his house. I think they're grown daughters; Abe suspects he's running an underhanded business from his home. But he spends a lot of time outside talking to his two black poodles. So, shady business or no, he seems like a nice enough man.
We went to our new (church) ward on Sunday and were so excited. The second we walked in I felt at home. There was a row of very active children in front of us, among whom was a baby boy just a couple of weeks younger than Soren. He crawled under the bench to visit and the two of them touched each others faces and toddled up and down the church bench together. Soren also used his newfound as a driving surface for his little truck. The friend didn't seem to much mind.
After sacrament meeting we were flooded by people who were eager to meet us and make us feel welcome; Soren's new friend's mommy, Ingrid, a mother of four little boys, took me under her wing, finding a copy of the ward director for me, sitting by me in Relief Society and telling me everyone's names, smiling at me encouragingly when I made a comment.
And, of course, the gospel is the same wherever you go, and it was good -- as usual -- to be able to attend church and be reminded again of the things that are most important in this life.
When we got home from church, a cute elderly couple who live across the street waved and said, "Welcome to the neighborhood!"
We're in a good place. I'm excited to see what the next few years hold for us.
We're in our new home! And I'm in love with our new neighborhood!
We've still got some work to do on our house (I'll post pictures when we've got an internet connection at our place, which will hopefully be sometime this afternoon), but it's coming along nicely and already feels like home. Soren had a rough couple of nights at first, but seems to be perfectly happy in his new environment. And he still gets to see Grandma and Grandpa a couple of times a week (because I, as Abraham likes to quote, "canno' stay away from th' titty"), a thing which brings him much joy.
On Saturday night Soren and I came home from the grocery store to find a thin young man wearing a Harley Davidson jacket plowing out the snow in our driveway with his four-wheeler. He said his name was Shane and that he and his wife, Katie, and their 16-month-old son, Coen, live right next door. I thanked him from clearing our sidewalk and driveway and he remarked, "Oh, well, we have a trailer and hog a lot of the parking space during the summer, so I thought I could maybe recompense by keeping the sidewalks clear." He looked like a very nice man. I'm planning on taking over cookies so that I can meet Katie and Soren can meet Coen.
The neighbor on the other side, Sr. Sotelo, has a continual stream of women coming in and out of his house. I think they're grown daughters; Abe suspects he's running an underhanded business from his home. But he spends a lot of time outside talking to his two black poodles. So, shady business or no, he seems like a nice enough man.
We went to our new (church) ward on Sunday and were so excited. The second we walked in I felt at home. There was a row of very active children in front of us, among whom was a baby boy just a couple of weeks younger than Soren. He crawled under the bench to visit and the two of them touched each others faces and toddled up and down the church bench together. Soren also used his newfound as a driving surface for his little truck. The friend didn't seem to much mind.
After sacrament meeting we were flooded by people who were eager to meet us and make us feel welcome; Soren's new friend's mommy, Ingrid, a mother of four little boys, took me under her wing, finding a copy of the ward director for me, sitting by me in Relief Society and telling me everyone's names, smiling at me encouragingly when I made a comment.
And, of course, the gospel is the same wherever you go, and it was good -- as usual -- to be able to attend church and be reminded again of the things that are most important in this life.
When we got home from church, a cute elderly couple who live across the street waved and said, "Welcome to the neighborhood!"
We're in a good place. I'm excited to see what the next few years hold for us.
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