Live from planet Zortron

Later Vader! (A Star Wars Good-Bye.)

2010-05-18T08:31:00.001-07:00

Darth Vader: "Luke."

Luke: "Yes."

Darth Vader:

"The milk man IS your father."

Luke: "Oh. Phew. For a minute there you had me worried."

Darth Vader: "Luke."

Luke: "Yeah Darth?"

Darth Vader: "I AM the milkman."

Luke: "Nooooo!..."

Darth Vader: "Join me and we’ll rule the dairy market!"

Luke: "...oooooooo!"

Darth Vader: "Cows will moo at our udder command!"

*This message was fortified with Vitamin D (for Darth) and best taken with a glass of whole milk (a.k.a. whole Vader.)

May the force be with you.

I'm out.

Dear Readers; Good-bye.

2010-05-18T07:20:00.000-07:00

Due to pressing circumstances which are developing outside of my control, I am choosing to close Planet Zortron two weeks earlier than I had planned to announce.

I leave to sooth my creative angst by fulfilling a work two years in the making. If I conjure mystery, it is only because I am being careful to protect this venture which has become so personal to me. If I fail, I'd like to do so quietly.

You know the saying, the one about doing the thing that you are most afraid of? That's what I am about to do. Like a turkey scared of it's own dressing, but knowing it'll taste the better for it...I am off to get stuffed. (Bad analogy?)

To please stay tuned and get updates on where I'll show up next, I hope you will write me at: gesswho76@yahoo.com. Leave me your email address and I will keep you in the know. I look forward to sharing with you the results of my efforts.

Thank you for your comments, I have had a lot of fun here on Planet Zortron.

P.S. Mini music day: Brandie Carlile. She hails from Ravensdale, WA (a stones throw from my home town) and has blue-sy folk rock down to an art form. I dig it. Click the post title to hear 'Again Today', my personal favorite.

And now, a misty - I mean proper - Zortron send off:
Live long and chocolate.

And this...

2010-05-17T21:37:00.000-07:00

is Isaak. He is half Zortronese after all.

This is a man.

2010-05-17T02:33:00.000-07:00

Hello man.
This man is a tired man. This man is so tired because he is working long hours with no smiles. When he comes home his woman points to the garbage and his kids sit on him to demand love and super glue (to fix their latest miss-hap). So he doesn't walk in the front door. He walks to his garden. He visits his chard. He feels all better. So better, he comes to the back window and knocks hello, but his woman startles and runs for the knife block.

At bedtime, all better man offers a family prayer:

...and please bless Isaak, that he will have a nice birthday tomorrow and that he will get some presents that he will like...

Woman and children open eyes and stare. A whimper is heard. Man is not all better. Isaak's birthday was in APRIL. Something is terribly wrong with man! Man opens his eyes, sees woman staring at him like she's trying to recall the number to the insane asylum. He stops. "What did I just say?"

This is a man.

You win some, you endure some.

2010-05-14T10:39:00.000-07:00

The course of my day is an ongoing flux between the sandwich bread of success and set-backs, smothered in jelly with tests of endurance. The following was Tuesday's peanut butter.

Kaylynn vacuums because she is: "a big girl and I can". Success!
Mommy doesn't know what's wrong. Kaylynn doesn't know what's wrong. Mommy brushes Kaylynn's hair and takes a picture. Set-back.Mommy talks on the phone. Kaylynn gets down markers so Emma can "draw". So that's why it was so quiet. Set-back to the bathtub!
Mommy sets out books. Waits. Winks at children. Book exploration time! Win.Storm Trooper.
ENDURE.

A day in the life of a bathrobe.

2010-05-13T09:54:00.000-07:00

The trouble with guns.

2010-05-11T10:38:00.000-07:00

Last night the wind was terrible. I had a hard time sleeping, so, I looked at pictures. I looked at this picture for a long time. Then I wrote.The first time I saw a real gun was the first time I shot one. I was seventeen and visiting a ranch. I was invited to tag along with a small group of locals headed to a wooded, partially overgrown shooting range. Being a strong, independent near-woman, I wasn't going to let the opportunity pass. Confidently, I strode to where one man had parked his pickup and was setting out several guns. "I'm here to shoot." He grinned. "OK. You shot before?" I shrugged. "Nope." Now he really grinned. He walked past a small hand gun, choosing instead a long barreled shot gun, turned, and hefted it into my arms. "Now, ya're a girl so it'll be more comfortable to rest the gun against yer hip, there. Now, aim to that there hay bale, and keep a grip of yer gun." OK. Not to hard right? Just point and shoot?

The force of the blast jerked the gun skyward and slammed me backwards into the side of the truck. My ears, unprotected, were now deaf but for a painful ringing and I felt like I had just been assaulted. I think they asked me if I wanted to try the hand gun - I'm not sure, I couldn't hear. All I knew was, I was done. I left, trying not to visibly shake as I walked away. I have never held a gun since.

Fast forward. First marriage, eight months pregnant, upstairs apartment, slept through the armed robbery of my then mother-in-law as some jittery punk kid held a gun to her back as she frantically worked to open the living room safe. Inside there was a loaded gun on the first shelf. She had forgotten this and the opportunity to protect herself passed as her perpetrator emptied out the safe,(gun and all), tied her loosely, and made a clean get-away.

Needless to say, and understandably so, she was deeply shaken. But, she was alive.

Can you imagine what the outcome may have been if she had remembered the gun and tried to turn on her attacker in her nerve-racked state?

Leap four years ahead. Second marriage (I work fast). Kraig does not own a gun. He lives in the city. But nearly ALL of his huge-normous family do. And despite the fact that we eat mostly vegetarian, he borrows a rifle to go deer hunting every year he can get a tag. But I feel ok about this. He shares the meat, and nothing is wasted.

Two more years pass. My baby, my first born son, is born. I ask my ma-in-law.
"Ma? Did you ever let any of your nine boys play with toy guns?"
I needed to know. She answered, "I never let them play with toy guns, I didn't want them to mix the two up. But they always found some stick or something and it became their gun".

Sure enough, as my "baby" grew, so did his need to save the world, protect the helpless, take down the bad guy, and fight off insurgents serving under the dreaded Darth Vader. I watched wide-eyed as every stick, spoon, twig, pillow... you name it, became a weapon for imaginary battles that I did nothing to provoke.

And then the day came. He was given two cowboy cap guns for his 5th birthday. He handled them with overwhelmed joy, as his parents eyed at each other over his head. Had we done the right thing? The giver of this bold gift is a good friend and we were asked for permission beforehand. I had wavered. Rules were set.

1. Never shoot your mama.
2. Visitors come to play, guns go away.
3. Mama's feet are still mama. Do not shoot them.
4. Never aim at a face.
5. Only shoot if the evil alien shoots first.
6. Hunt to take care of your family.
(And then say thank you to your teddy bear for his sacrifice.)

Citing earlier experiences, I believe a gun is only as good as the person shooting it. Unskilled, with young children, there are so many reasons why it would prove counter-safety for me to own one.

Someday, later than sooner, Kraig may own a rifle, and, like his brother's, he will be meticulous in safely storing, handling, and teaching our children the respect a weapon that can kill deserves.

Someday, sooner than later, the toy guns in my house will turn back into sticks and spoons. (The foam swords will stay. I pick my battles. Literally.)

And as for me? I pay attention. I don't open my storm door. I don't play at the park alone. And, I own mace. A cell phone. A short bat. A whistle. A knife block with really, really sharp knives. Add to that my mother bear, if you walk two more feet in my children's direction I'm going to lunge at you and finger stab your eyes out protective instinct, I don't need a gun. I am the gun. Boo-yeah.

(Uh, it's time for Rambo mama to take a nap)

Goat's milk yogurt and overheard conversations.

2010-05-10T06:00:00.000-07:00

Kaylynn: When I was a little girl, my yogurt was cold.

Isaak: Kaylynn. You are a little girl.

Kaylynn: When I grow up like you, my blueberries will be cold. In my teeth.

Isaak: Kaylynn. Those are not blueberries. Those are cherries.

Kaylynn: Yeah. They’re really yummy.

The ever useful, um.. female product.

2010-05-10T02:00:00.000-07:00

[If you don't want to eat while reading this, I understand.]
News flash: the Tampon is no longer just a ladies aid! Below is a list (no joke) of varied uses our friend Tampon can be used for:

*As starter kindling for fire.

*Placed between toes during a pedicure.

*Dropped in an outdoor fountain for an instant "water lily."

*Secure tampons in armpits, avoiding embarrassing armpit stains on dry clean only clothes.

*Tie on car antenna for ease in finding your vehicle in a crowded parking lot.

*Have a tampon battle with your friends: just aim and shoot. (girls night out!)

*Wrap with old tootsie roll wrapper and fool your friends when you offer them candy. Mmm.

*Glue several, end to end, leaving string on one end. Paint it camouflage earth tones, now you have an authentic fake snake!

(and my personal favorite)

*Tie clusters on the ends of bike handlebars, then watch them flap in the wind. Who needs streamers now?

But, let's get serious. Tampons are simply a highly absorbent cotton packed into a tightly compressed space. Put a few in your purse, first aid kit, 72 hour kit, and when you need a:

plug for a pesky nose bleed
a toothbrush of last resort
some ear plugs
a tongue depressor (added bonus, ends problematic side affect of drooling)
or a compress (i.e. soak in witch hazel, squeeze out and press over puffy eyes)

You will be ready!Open up a Tampon and you can use it as you would a trauma pad. Trauma pads are thick layered bandages used to staunch blood loss on larger, deeper, wounds. The last time I bought one it cost $4. a pad. For just a little more I can buy a box of super adsorbent Tampons and have 86! individually wrapped, trauma pads in sanitary containers.

If I'm hiking to a remote location and I happen to fall on a protruding rock of jagged danger, and slice open my leg in the process - Think of how happy I'll be to know that I have packed lots of affordable, light-weight Tampons.
Don't get me wrong, I'll still carry a few trauma pads. Think of the Tampon as comfort insurance. Just like the box says. (OK. The box doesn't say that exactly- but that's what I would put on it, if I was in charge of marketing.)
Ladies: stock up.

Happy Mother's Day

2010-05-09T02:39:00.000-07:00

(pictured - my mom, my baby, my grandma)

To my mother. To my ma-in-law, my step-Susan, my g'ma G,
my grandma H.E.,...to Katie, to Becky, to Sherry.
To all mother's everywhere, [those with children, those soon to be, and those with mother hearts] Happy Mother's day. Be sure to smell your roses, especially the crayola ones.

Where's Llama?

2010-05-08T06:00:00.000-07:00

Meet Dolly Llama. Llama for short. Llama is hiding. Where's Llama? Cold, warm, colder, warmer, freezing, hot, really hot, smoking hot,... Llama!Oh! And another Llama discovery! Where will Llama hide next?Oh. Nooooooooo.My marzipan Llama.Legless Llama.Dolly Llama wisdom: Keep smiling and, if you can't stand, sit.

THE BIG FOUR

2010-05-07T11:07:00.000-07:00

The older I get, the more I dislike confrontation. Don't read me wrong, I was born in the year of the fire dragon. I can confront. With fire, absolutely. With dignity? Not so much. I'm working on it.

The older I get, the more I look for the good in people, no matter my dig to find it. (Ted Bundy had a good haircut..) And the more I have those sappy songs about world peace floating through my head. You know, the one's with everybody holding hands and sharing their chocolate bars?

The older I get, the more important it has become to respect other's beliefs, to listen more, to understand more, to show genuine interest, genuine empathy, and to offend not.

All this getting older and feeling all these feelings presents a difficulty. When I go to talk or write out loud I start to get all angsty about: The Big Four.

Namely:

1.Which pew one sits on.

a.k.a. Personal Beliefs / Religion

2. Hey baby!

a.k.a. The proper way to raise Kids.

3. It would be funner if they wore wigs.

a.k.a. Politics.

4. Ow!

a.k.a. Personal Health Care. Doctor verses Alternative.

So here we are. Well. I am. I don't know where you are...
So. Here I am. Knowing that when it comes to where my rubber hits the road, I have, at times, responded in vague, flowery epitaphs that have little to do with rubber or the road..

I will now, open and truthfully, make an official statement on: The Big Four.

1. ME: I sit in the pew of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I believe in God, Jesus Christ, angels, and the power of prayer.

YOU: I support your spiritual journey. May the force be with you.

HONESTLY: I especially enjoy connecting with people of different beliefs and backgrounds and finding the common ground that we both share. We all have a spiritual nature within us. It's a beautiful place to meet.

2. ME: I have four children - three living. I do my very best, and, I don't sweat the small stuff. (Because, hey, they're kids. They are the small stuff!)

YOU: Small stuff is funny. Laugh.

3. ME: Seriously politics, don't make me come down there and whoop out the Kum Ba Ya.

YOU: Campfire anyone?

HONESTLY: O.K.,(sigh) I do follow politics. But I don't enjoy the high blood pressure conversations surrounding them, and I wish debates were filled with a layer of compassion that is too often absent, regardless the party. I am registered Republican, but that doesn't stop me from supporting a different party as I see fit. Bottom line: I vote and I hope you vote too. Now, back to the campfire.

4. ME: After years of personal study I have come to believe in medical balance. I look for truth, follow my gut, then seek out the best in doctor's, medicine's, herbs, nutrition, technology, and folk wisdom. My first choice is the least invasive, moving up the ladder of intervention as needs be. (ps I LOVE herbs)

YOU: Do what's best for you (and eat your veggies).

So, have you guessed it? I am an idealist. I am a dreamer. And...John Lennon's song 'Imagine' has, maybe once, made me cry. But then, I may have been pregnant at the time.

Interview with Miss Three Year's Old

2010-05-05T02:00:00.000-07:00

Heidi - Hi Kaylynn. Tell me: how do you think mommy’s and daddy’s get married?

Kaylynn - By the tooth fairy.

Heidi - How do we get rain?

Kaylynn - Go outside and get an umbrella.

Heidi - Why do you think humming birds wings fly so fast?

Kaylynn - Because they don’t need to land.

Heidi - What do you think when you see a firetruck?

Kaylynn - If we have a fire in our house, then we run out.

Heidi - Tell me what happens when a baby chick is born?

Kaylynn - They turn into eggs. Like Easter eggs. And their mom’s play with them.

Heidi - Did you like your little sister when she was born?

Kaylynn - Yeah. But – only a little bit.

Heidi - What about your toy babies?

Kaylynn - No. I don’t like toy babies.

Heidi - Not at all?

Kaylynn - Nothing. No toys for me.

Heidi - Kaylynn, are you in a sad mood?

Kaylynn - Mm, hmm. I don’t like any toys.

Heidi - Why?

Kaylynn - Because.

Heidi - What can I do to help?

Kaylynn - Well, I need to sleep in your bed tonight.

Heidi - Hmm. I’ll think about that. What do you like to do when you are happy?

Kaylynn - Only read stories.

Heidi - I think it's bedtime.

Kaylynn - But I'm still tiered and hungry. And I need a lot of books. A lot.

Heidi - Yep, bedtime.

The trouble of living and dreaming

2010-05-04T09:58:00.000-07:00

I can do well enough, day to day.
I can create a routine and be where I'm supposed to be.
I can feel the moment that I'm in and enjoy it where I'm at.
I can do that.
I can eat all that I should in a week,
for the promise of one (or two) weekend treats.

And I feel content as I scoop some cones, that I'm happy to leave well enough alone.
But - before first bite I can take, rushing up upon me comes the ache,
I can't hold back the cresting wave washing in the need
to dream dreams of bigger, wider things.
I swim it out to sea to save the world, slap naughty hands, heal open wounds.
Then I see, while I was gone, life has continued to hurry on, and makes a chocolate stream of the moment that used to be, ice cream.

Parenting Day

2010-05-03T03:00:00.000-07:00

Today I wake up and decide what I'll be, did I get enough sleep, did I eat enough greens? If so then I'll decide to be pious, all full of tender for those nearest and nighest. See, here I am, a fresh watered face, sans makeup, stands ready, to show off my patience. Yes, so patient I'll be as high waters to knee, that the style of my mothering could be labeled long-suffering. But, then... Just as I go to kiss my son's face, mommy alien comes and takes over my place! All memory of human is quickly, completely erased, and stuffed in my mind is one thought: Eat Brains! "Here little kiddo, don't be afraid if I hop upside down and laugh somewhat crazed. I'm going for flesh, I'll start with your middle, my fingers are wiggly, your going to get tickled!""Hmmm," I say, as he runs, (screaming) away, "What will I name this parenting day?"

Visualizing (i.e. what I did today)

2010-05-01T23:47:00.000-07:00

Went to mama-in-laws. Watched mama-in-law tat.Watched Kraig make heap big fire, burn many weeds.Watched kids spray hose, keep heap big fire under control.Watched Kraig make mama-in-law's flower garden pretty.Watched in-lards - I mean in-laws - watch vegetable garden.Watched Kraig make fun of me watching.Watched in-law think it was cool to balance antlers on her head. Watched in-law untill mama-in-law told in-law to watch out for LICE.Watched me and mama-in-law laugh...

Shall I say...yes?

2010-04-29T23:45:00.000-07:00

When you look at me like that, how can I not?

I meant to say no till I saw and was caught

By your puppy dog eyes with a single sad tear

Trembling and ready to fall - oh my dear

Why was it again that I put my foot down?

To insist on insisting, to pout my best frown

And say (like I'm certain a good mommy would),

"No little darling, one is all that you should".

Still, I wonder which battle is more worth the winning

The small everyday that seem never-ending

Or the bigger, the fiercer, the one's most important?

Eek! Decisions like these could hold all sorts of portent!

Meanwhile -

As I contend to show salt as a parent

To muster my strength in matters so fervent:

Little plaintive staring at me

Gets not one banana,

But...three.

Undressed.

2010-04-27T11:00:00.000-07:00

All that stands between all of us, and all of... Hey!You forgot your hat!

Early Mother's Day

2010-04-26T00:00:00.000-07:00

(Traci Bulkley with son Maddox, 10 months old and veteran of two heart surgeries thus far.)

Nobel Peace:

Sure there is noble use for my time,
The world sings to me in reason with rhyme
Sure there is plenty of fun to be had
To live for myself, I'm free and I can

Yet shaping a soul, that comes to this earth
So helpless and fragile the eve of their birth
Speaks louder to me, so speaks of divine
That already I'm better, softer, and kind

No Nobel Peace Prize for this sacrifice -
Is it because the cost is too hard to define
By committees and boards with their trusts,
Who measure with numbers and visuals and such?

While just afar off a mother sits by
And speaks to her child, "I'll teach you to fly,
No matter my life nor the tears or the time
I will lift you and guide you and help you to climb.”

And after all, as I ponder these things,
What greater picture is there of peace
Than that of a mother rocking to sleep
Earth's newest member, lovely and sweet?
"Hello my baby" she whispering sings.
Is this not the root where nobility springs?

Why I favor hats.

2010-04-25T01:00:00.000-07:00

"Kaylynn hold real still and mommy is going to make your hair pretty, like Princess Leia...kind of."

"There! What do you think? Pretty? Fun? Anything? No?"

"Look! See there! Adoring fans look on in approval. Are you moved?"

"Oh."

"Hey Kaylynn how about cake? You like cake. Can you say cake for mommy?"

"CAKE!"

P.S.

2010-04-23T14:24:00.000-07:00

The establishment at Zortron neither confirms nor denies the validity of the reported suggestion that the existence of plural "secret stash-es" do indeed exist.

Real healing begins

2010-04-22T12:00:00.000-07:00

When we learn to carefully listen to another's heart,then gently bind up their broken wing so they can fly again.
(The butterfly doctor is is available Mon - Fri, call for an appointment.)

Peek-a-jar, any jar.

2010-04-20T16:38:00.000-07:00

Jar #1. Makeup. Very useful.

Jar #2. Hair thingys. Very handy. Or, hairy...

Jar #3. Secret stash. I figure, if your going to have one, why not next to the bathtub?

A little soak, a little chocolate...

6 years old.

2010-04-18T01:28:00.000-07:00

Kraig - "How long has that boy been wearing those pajama's?
Heidi - "Since his birthday when I didn't have the heart to make him take them off after he tried them on."
Kraig - "That was Wednesday. Morning."
Heidi - "One of the perks of being six?"

Dear Jonsi, I love you.

2010-04-17T23:25:00.000-07:00

I have become a music junkie. I have a paid account with Rhapsody to prove it. I spent the last decade with my head in the sand of my old cd's. Enya, R.E.M., The Cranberries, Simon and Garfunkel... I did poke my head out to acknowledge Cold Play a few years back. That's about it.

Last year, I woke up one day and just like that, it wasn't enough anymore. "I need more music, fresh music, in my life", I said. So I bought some djembe drums. That was just the beginning. Maracas, triangles, a rain stick... now on to the guitar, I have callouses to prove it. And I began seeking out music, music that moves my very soul, my guts. But maybe you don't want to see my guts move.

I have a ol' friend named Josh. He's an army hippy. He hangs out in record stores, listens to millions of albums, and keeps moving to new exotic local. (i.e. Kansas) If you asked him what his favorite album was, he may tell you Wilco's Summer Teeth. He's where I first turned to when I began my musical awakening. Josh has good taste.

I've listened to enough music now to know that I bend more towards idealistic artists and, I have a soft spot for singer/songwriters.

Today I am starting a new tradition. I will call it, "Music Day on Zortron".
Today's music is from an artist I discovered this week named Jonsi, whose debut solo album 'Go', is labeled under the genre of baroque pop. Personally I think it should be called magic baroque pop. Because, oh genius, this guy is awesome. Listen to his song, "Go do". I am listening to it right now. His expansive falsetto moves me to my inner core. Another favorite is, "Tornado". Oh, melt me like a box of junior mints left in a hot mini van.

Now, go, enjoy.

Cake. (a.k.a. help me, help me now)

2010-04-15T08:55:00.000-07:00

The trouble started on the first pass at a simple frosting technique. Mainly, putting some frosting on a knife and spreading it around. But the cake came off with the frosting. Was the cake still too warm? Or was it because I had substituted the oil in the cake for applesauce? And why is cake-ing in general so hard? Is it just me? Because this happens every time.

I let the cake sit a bit and went online to research R2D2 cakes. My mom made one for my brother one year and it was great. It didn't' look to hard, the cut-away seemed easy enough. But the frosting...
After the damage was done, I thought I could make it better somehow with some flashy decor on the sides. But after I stood back and counted three sixes, I had to quickly add a few more.

Poor cake. Poor, poor cake.

Heidi tries journalism.

2010-04-13T12:00:00.000-07:00

Heidi - Kraig can I interview you?

Kraig - Sure.

Heidi - How are you?

Kraig - How am I?

Heidi - Yes, you.

Kraig - I am well. (pause) I'm surprised that among your granddaddy's quotes they didn't put down that, when he would ask you a question and if you repeated his question he would say, "I asked you first." *

Heidi - What?

Kraig - You know, when, if he asked, "How are you?" and I would answer, "How am I?" he would answer, "I asked you first."

Heidi - That's because you asked him what he asked you.

Kraig - And he just did it in his quick way.

Heidi - You mean blunt?

Kraig - I mean sharp.

Heidi - He never did that with me, because I just answered him straight.

Kraig - So it wasn't a common quote, it was just common to me?

Heidi - I think so.

Kraig - It was very common to me.

Heidi - (stumped pause) Well, I think this ends our interview.

Kraig - Hmmm.

Jumping Chicken

2010-04-10T14:50:00.000-07:00

Isaak - "I'm a pterodactyl!"
Kaylynn - "I'm a bird! See! I jump."
Isaak - "Birds don't jump. Maybe your a frog."
Kaylynn - "But Isaak. But. I'm a bird. Birds jump."
Mom - "I've seen chickens jump."
Kaylynn - "I'm a JUMPING CHICKEN!"

Another Good-Bye

2010-04-09T19:26:00.000-07:00

Kraig's dad passed away peacefully, surrounded by his family, including Kraig and our girls, as I was on a plane to Washington with Isaak. We now gather with the family to say good-bye to a good man.

Marden Carling (July 26, 1929 - March 31, 2010)

O.K. yes. I confess..

2010-04-08T00:30:00.000-07:00

I know what you're saying. Well, or, I know what I think you might be saying if you were me looking at myself and thinking out loud. "Look at miss efficiency making up for lost time in a flurry of posts where before Zortron lay barren in a winter without words."
But truth be known, since Monday I haven't left my pajama's. The bed, the laptop, my children, various food stuffs, stayed by my side through it all. After all, it is Spring Break, and Spring or not, I need a break!

I let the phone ring - I hope they'll call back...next week.

The Vigil

2010-04-07T23:30:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, March 27th, we joined the Spencer family, as all who were able began to gather to the bedside of Kraig's father. It had been revealed that his time was short, and according to his wishes he had come home, home to the house his children had built him, to spend his last days in the care of his family.
Some got to work fulfilling Pa's wishes to remove the rouge tree's that were springing up and stealing nourishment from his beloved gardens.

Some read the medical paperwork. There is no hospice care in Alamo. Family would now take over all of Pa's comfort and care. They were honored to do so.

Some cracked under stress and made faces at my camera.....including myself.
And some were just happy to be together, to be outside and away from the somber realities of life and death that weighed heavy on an older generation.

Cocklebur, how you cockle me

2010-04-07T14:20:00.000-07:00

This pot was sitting on the counter of Pa Spencer's home. It is the fruits of the fall Cocklebur harvest. This obscure and annoying plant is a well known herb among the Spencer siblings."Do you remember when you got sick and Mama made you drink all that cocklebur tea?", is a sure conversation sparker and I have heard it repeated many times.

Kraig recalls fondly going to milk the cow and being smacked in the head with a tail full of burs, loaded like a spiked club. (weaponized cow?) And then there is the story of Kraig's oldest brother Carl. Newly married to his wife Lily, he made her up some cocklebur tea to drink when he found she wasn't feeling well. It tasted so good she took one sip and said, "I'm all better!" I have never made use of this remedy for an upset stomach myself. Maybe next time when I pick them off my socks and sweatshirt I won't throw them away, or curse them when they prick my fingers and dig into the sides of my shoes. Maybe I'll just boil a pot of tea. Or, use them as a table centerpiece. They are kind of pretty. In a pointy, outdoorsy, brown earth kind of way..

For you "Herbies" out there;

Cock-le-bur
Xanthium strumarium L.

*Medicinal Properties: Antispasmodic, analgesic, alterative, antibacterial, antifungal, diuretic, febrifuge, sedative

*Uses
Cocklebur was once used for rabies, fevers, malaria, sinusitis, allergic rhinitis with headaches, chronic lumbago, leprosy, and pruritis (severe itching) of the skin. Native Americans used the leaf tea for kidney diseases, rheumatism, arthritis, tuberculosis (TB), colds, as a blood tonic, and diarrhea. The Chinese had similar uses.

*Ways to use the cocklebur:
The seed can be ground into a powder and mixed with flour for making bread, cakes etc. The seed contains about 36.7% protein, 38.6% fat, 5.2% ash.

The stick together so well they can be used to build models. (model what could not be determined)

And (my personal favorite) because they readily attach to clothing, they can be used as "darts" in a cocklebur dart game.

*Cocklebur is a variable weedy annual plant that grows to 5 feet in height. The leaves are oval to heart-shaped, somewhat lobed or toothed, on long stalks. The green flowers are inconspicuous. The fruits are oval, with crowded hooked prickles, often called burrs. Blooms September to November.

*Found in: Waste places throughout the United States and Canada - now invasive throughout the world.

*Legends:
This weed is very obnoxious to contact; the seed pods tend to adhere to animal fur and human clothing. Often transplanted throughout an area by clinging to the fur of animals and dropping at distances to become wider spread and more obnoxious. It is a very valuable therapeutic medicinal used by the Chinese for rheumatic pains and aches as well as sinus blockage. Also used as a yellow dye.

*Nutrient Content
Vitamin C

*Warning
Most cocklebur species are toxic to livestock and are usually avoided by them. Seeds contain toxins, but the seed oil has served as lamp fuel.

Toxic Blues

2010-04-05T17:21:00.000-07:00

Easter candy. All wrapped up in innocent bunny foil and summer colors...

And yet, lurking brightly among the pile, is THIS!
Thick, deep blue dye drowns little egg in what I am sure is some sort of left over toxic run-off cover up. To elaborate I decide to demonstrate just how much dye is used to color one whopper egg.

As you may now witness, I have smeared the coloring onto my face, and still there is more dye left on the egg! This, is an egg-trosity!

Uh, oh. Toxic blue dye isn't coming off! I need...help.

Baby wipes with A LOT of soap gives success.

And Kraig gets the credit for wiping my blues away.

Easter renew me!

2010-04-05T14:10:00.001-07:00

During a time of busy communication 'round plethora's of loved ones and relations abroad - travel, expenses, and in between two funerals....

The oasis of Easter Sunday brought calm, spiritual reflection, dresses, hats, mid-day brunches, and, for Isaak and I, a night flight home.

With, of course, chocolate.

Death, my friend

2010-04-05T13:24:00.000-07:00

Here again
death
my friend
has come to walk
with me
in this valley
forest lined
sunlight
calls on tops of pine
reaching fingers
sift evergreens
as God rays
break on
boughs of grief
and
speak
silently
of
peace.

In Memory

2010-03-31T00:16:00.000-07:00

My dearest grandaddy, A. Don Gessel, passed away on March 27th. He had just celebrated 89 long good years on this earth and he was ready to go home. I was fortunate enough to have a close relationship with him. This picture was taken in the fall of '09 when I brought baby Emmalina to meet him.

When I was first born and my grandaddy came to visit me at the hospital, I was yet un-named. My dad suggested Deborah or Sherry. My mom leaned towards Kelly and Allison. My grandaddy (being of fine, if not short, German stock), intervened. "How about Heidi?" And so it was, Heidi I became.

When I was little I snuck into his Almond Roca stash. I ate until I had a belly ache. Then I was caught with the evidence on my face - and I got a bum ache. But ever after, my grandaddy always had a can of Almond Roca when I came for a visit. My last trip home for Christmas, there it was, under the tree.

Grandaddy always had a deep interest in my life, and in the lives of other's. He made it a priority to be there for me. When I said I was going to take a train up and back to Canada to have my eye's laser-ed, he flipped, packed up his van and my grandma, and drove me there himself. He was 79!

He loved Yellow Stone Park, road trips, and dish of ice cream before bed. He always had a camera around his neck and a Pepsi in the basement refrigerator for when he was being, "really good".

I could go on about how he liked to pinch hip flesh and slip chocolate kisses into my hand as he greeted me with, "How's my girl?". Or how he would cuss me (and anyone else) out when he found out I had neglected my car care. And that he lived in the house he built for 49 years and loved the wife that was his for 67 years.

Now I leave to gather with the "whole fam-dam-ily", as he fondly? referred to us.

Love you grandaddy.

Brothers

2010-03-26T18:56:00.000-07:00

Ryan. Beef steak. I mean, cake. He wears jewelry the way my mom wishes I would. When Isaak was three years old Ryan gave him his first set of weights. 2 pounders. Then he called and asked to talk to him. I was wary.
First he instructed Isaak how to hold up his arms and flex. Then...
"Tell your mom: Hey mom! You better get me some water, cause these pythons are thirsty!"

Here's my brother Jennifer (cough), I mean Jason.

He has a hard time with introductions. Once, in a group, gathered in the silence that comes with a pause between conversations; someone asked him who he was. "I'm Heidi's sister", was his, fill-the-room-with-guffaw-burst, reply.
P.S. This is not an isolated event...

Gotta love the brothers.

Gingerbread and conversations

2010-03-25T14:05:00.000-07:00

Isaak, was insistent that a picture be taken of the gimp gingerbread house I made for them to decorate in Washington. So here it is.
Asked to elaborate on the winter-y scene he said, "Well, this small one here is like my grandaddys house. And this big one...that's his shop! It's a big shop. And a little house."
(the grandaddy in question has a normal sized house and a gi-normus "shop" in the back yard. This comes in handy when you want to work on a car or play air hockey, and stuff)

Welcome Spring

2010-03-23T11:49:00.000-07:00

These three months, as Planet Zortron slumbered, much change and bluster has hurried me along. The weather, normally sunny, has brought many a grey day and even rain to our drought-ed valley. Lately, wind storms whip wild and fierce around my house, which makes me glad I do not live in a yurt.

I feel like the weather is an outward reflection of the changes that are evolving inside of me. Over the past several years I have become discontent with my lot.
Quiet at first, it began as a nagging tap on my shoulder, a tug at my braids. More often though, it's more like a kick in the rear and a roar in my ears.

Can you be truly happy in the moment you live in - while knowing that you will never be truly happy unless you strive for something more? I guess 'more' could mean a lot of things. The more I'm referring to is the longing to be a better person, to develop personal talents and abilities buried, (suffocated rather) within oneself.

Such has been my woe. I have turned into a Hamlet, holding up my skull (or mirror in this case) as I offer up the famous words, "To be, or not to be".
Kraig doesn't interrupt anymore - he knows it's just me talking to myself, again.

Honestly, I am in a very happy place in my life right now. Counting my blessings one by one would leave you dizzy in a whirl of all things good...and funny.

There is a quote from the movie Dune that sums me up. I was watching it years ago, (laughing mostly) - until these words shook my attention and I rushed to write them down.

"Without change, something sleeps within us, and seldom awakens"

For me, this change is a change within, brought forward to be externally manifested. It has always been there, waiting, sleeping. One day, when I was ready, it awoke. But this change is still groggy and unsteady. It needs to learn how to walk and exist along side the life and people that I love.

The time is not yet to reveal the details of this manifestation. But I can say, at last, I am determined to push past the towering wall of imposing fear and self doubt that has kept me asleep all these years. I am not asleep anymore.

I am awake. Welcome Spring!

Back? Back.

2010-03-22T13:04:00.000-07:00

Hey now, no long faces! I'm back.

Zortron goes to Washington

2009-12-22T21:14:00.000-08:00

We'll be back.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Getting ready for Christmas

2009-12-20T01:31:00.000-08:00

We're a little behind...
This year, Kraig, being of the more practical sort, took the children to get a Christmas tree, and instead came home with three bushes.

"Look honey!" He said, his voice booming, "Our kids each get a tree to decorate and after Christmas I can plant them in the front yard!"

So economic, environmentally sound, and kid perfect, we decided to sing. In honor of the occasion we passed over the more traditional 'Oh Christmas Tree', in favor of a revised 'We Three Bushes Of Orient Are'.

Best Stuffing Of My Life

2009-12-16T00:23:00.000-08:00

I made this popular whole grain stuffing on the fly for Thanksgiving and ended up eating it again for breakfast, lunch, and then for dinner again. After that I had to take a break. All the stuffing love was stuffing me. But I look forward to making it again next week in Washington for Christmas.

Try if you dare....

Ingredients:

1 loaf of Ezekiel 4:9 bread, plain or raisin, thawed, dried and broken into bite-sized cubes *
1/2 tsp dried thyme
1/2 tsp dried rosemary
2 tsp dried ground sage
1 tsp black pepper
1/3 cup olive-oil (or olive-oil based margarine)
1 large sweet onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
5 celery stalks, including leaves, thinly sliced
1/2 cup dried apricots, chopped
10 raw shallots, peeled and quartered
3/4 cup fresh flat leaf parsley, chopped
1 cup low-sodium chicken broth
**cheesecloth**

NOTE: I let the bread stale in the oven on low before breaking them up, I added mushrooms and kalamata olives, took out the apricots (because I didn't have them) and, as I wasn't stuffing a bird I used 4 cups broth instead of 1.

Directions

A few hours before making this (maybe 4 hours prior), remove defrosted Ezekiel Bread slices from package and leave out on paper towels to dry out a little bit.

1. Place bread cubes in a large bowl. Mix in the thyme, rosemary, sage and fresh ground black pepper.
2. Melt olive-oil-based margarine in a large frying pan on medium heat. Add onions and garlic and saute for 2 minutes. Add sliced celery, stirring often. Cook for about 5 minutes.
3. Stir the onion mixture into the bowl containing the bread. Add the apricots, quartered shallots, and parsley. Stir in the chicken broth.
4. Spoon the uncooked stuffing onto a large square of cheesecloth. Gather the corners of the square and push the stuffing into the cavity of your uncooked turkey, leaving the four corners of the cheesecloth outside of the turkey cavity. Leave enough space for the stuffing to expand inside of the bird.
**Step 5 is for the EXTRA stuffing only!**
5. Place any remaining stuffing in a casserole dish sprayed very lightly with olive oil cooking spray and cover loosely with tin foil. Bake extra stuffing in an oven preheated to 325Â°F / 160Â°C. After 30 minutes, remove the foil and stir thoroughly. Bake for another 30 minutes uncovered.
6. When the turkey is finished roasting, you can remove the stuffing by carefully pulling out the cheesecloth while holding all four corners of the external cheesecloth. Spoon the stuffing out of the cheesecloth into a serving dish.

****You can cook this stuffing in a large casserole dish using step 5 above if you are not stuffing poultry.****

Belated Parties and Uninvited Guests

2009-12-14T17:37:00.000-08:00

Oh so long it seems ago, we were a family with no woe. Then in August came the rain - worse than weather, found scorp-pain-s. The bug man came, he sprayed, got paid, then he smiled and went away-ed. The children sunk, getting sick, sicker, sickest - nothing tried would stick with quickness. Slowly, slowly, with moons passing, health advanced and feelings casting, began cheery glows with prospects of people, a party at last! Kaylynn is three! Shhhh, it was official last November twen-ty. Today was cake. Today was fun. Today was a kitty, a ball, a book, and a nun. Well, not really a nun. Just the thought that creeped in - "maybe that's what I should have gone and been."
But it's only fleeting and now on to the crying, after all, (and despite camera eyes prying) it's her party and she'll cry if she wants to. One loud popped balloon caused this moments rue. Yet shortly blue fading, and success on horizon... hey what's this crustaceous brown thing I'm spying?! Not you, you pernicious party crasher! Where's my man Kraig, a.k.a. scorpion masher? He's working busy in mental stew, and, lacking stomach to squish, I gather the kids to stare at you. For now you can wait here on this pink party plate, and while you are waiting, would you like some cake?

Pink Feelings

2009-12-09T20:49:00.000-08:00

Pink are my feelings like the roses above. My heart is all gushy and drippy with love. The holiday spirit has finally kicked in, and I'm rushing the planner - too late to begin? Was it the red and green paper train, taped loop by loop? Or the first seasons cookies, the kids covered in dough goop? Or the homeless lady at Taco Bell with no teeth? She rapped on my window and I about screamed. I gave her my dollar and turned on my tunes. Chestnuts roasting and, oh look there's the moon! Evening has come, my pink sandals shiver. Its chilly like north, but I live south, so I quiver.
I'm ready to snuggle, all up in my bed, with my three sugar plums, ages five, three, and red. (One didn't rhyme)

Winter Gardens

2009-12-08T19:07:00.000-08:00

In the brisk cooling of October's paling skies, Kraig spent three sunny days expanding and building up the vegetable garden.
I knew those extra bags would come in handy for something.

The netting is to keep kitty's out. They think our yard is cat oasis.
Chard, lettuce, beets, and some other green stuff later, we're ready with the burlap and visqueen to protect our little bounty from the nights it will reach freezing. (like last night)

January is looking tasty.

Slippery Elm on my face.

2009-12-07T03:19:00.000-08:00

Oh mercy. This stuff is great. Slippery Elm powder plus warm water equals... wa-lah! Instant face mask. I do this with my breakfast oatmeal sometimes, eat a little, smear my face a little...I think of it as wellness multi-tasking.

Slippery Elm comes from the inner bark of the Slippery Elm tree. There's a story I enjoy, about George Washington's troops making a gruel out of it to help them survive the terrible winter at Valley Forge. Slippery Elm expands in water becoming a bulky survival food that is pleasant tasting enough that you won't have to gag it down (though a little honey wouldn't hurt). It soothes all things inflamed; from sore throats, to IBS, to open wounds.

Richard Mabey, in The New Age Herbalist (Simon & Schuster, 1988), calls slippery elm “both a food and a medicine.” Because the bark contains several useful nutrients, it can be boiled to make a reasonably wholesome porridge. Easily digested, it is well tolerated by people with intestinal problems (and, once flavored with a bit of cinnamon or nutmeg, even children find it palatable).

Below are two of my favorite uses for Slippery Elm Powder...besides on my face:

Owie Paste

1 part slippery elm powder
1 part oregon grape root powder
honey

Mix equal parts of the herbs together. Add honey until it becomes a gooey paste that you can place on an owie (It will look like a scab). Once on, you can cover it with gauze or a band aide. Remember to change the paste daily as the herbs absorb the infection. If it has dried out - warm water will soften it so that you can gently remove it. The honey and oregon grape have antibacterial properties.

Throat Lozenges

1 part licorice powder
1 part slippery elm powder
warm water

Mix desired amount in a bowl. Add in enough warm water to get the consistency of a paste. Roll flat with a rolling pin. If you have a bottle cap top handy you can use it as a shape cutter, otherwise you can roll the dough into little balls with your hands. Place on parchment paper to dry for a day-ish.

* Optional ingredients I like to add a bit of: cinnamon bark powder or peppermint leave powder. To taste.

P.S. The US FDA has approved slippery elm as a safe and effective option for treating sore throat (pharyngitis) and respiratory symptoms, such as cough.

Me, 33.

2009-12-03T16:06:00.000-08:00

Today is my birthday. I am thirty-three years old. Today was a good day.
In honor of today I will list 33 numbers and then write something verging profound, about myself.

1. I love rocky road ice cream and over-sized salt lamps.

2. My favorite color is a truce between Yellow and Orange.

3. I think mini-vans get a bad rap. So I named ours Bad Rapper.

4. Someday pet goats named Hiawatha and Pocatello.

5. Born in the Northwest, live in the desert, still bleed green.

6. I pretend to be a vegetarian until the holidays.

7. I just made the best stuffing I've ever eaten in my life. I ate it for dinner, for breakfast, for lunch, for second lunch...

8. Once I was sued for a million dollars. That was fun. Like the time I totaled my dad's van...which led to the law suite in the first place. And then when I burned down my dad's new car....

9. Female hair loss runs in my mom's family. If I get a wig it will be orange with sparkled streaks. I do not jest.

10. Growing up it seemed like all my friends had dog's named Heidi. Hello complex!

11. I took up djembe drum playing for fun last spring. Bring on the family drum circle!

12. My best friend and I bonded this night 15! years ago, when, on my 18th birthday I locked my keys in my car and the door froze shut, so her mom insisted I spend the night - and she made us the best hot cocoa ever. (Liz,remember pouring the bucket of water and how it froze as it hit the door and it was snowing?)

13. Sometimes my husband puts the kids to bed at night so I can pursue some personal creative endeavors. I love him lots. We met in the air port. "Hey baby, what's your plane?"

14. After reading "Alas Babylon", I became a salt horde. I have over 150 lbs tucked away under my stairs. If you need some salt I may have a little to spare.

15. I'm half hermit. Sometimes I disappear. Or at least hide in the closet with chocolate. Don't worry, I always come out...of the closet.

16. I celebrated my birthday of 1999 by administering CPR to a co-worker.

17. I trained as an EMT once. Sometimes I dream of going back and getting certified but I get chicken feet when I think of the tests. Which rymes with vex-s greatly.

18. According to Myer's Briggs I am a ENFP.

19. My favorite idea of a prank call is - when the phone rings pick it up and ask for Bob. I did this once when I was fifteen. The caller was my dad's boss. Oopsie.

20. Reading "The Team of Rivals", I grieved for weeks when I read Abraham Lincoln had died.

21. I love sitting in compleate stillness and sleeping in utter darkness.

22. My favorite movie is Pride and Prejudice, the BBC version. I wish there were t-shirts that said, "I pine Colin Firth", because I'd get two.

23. I stepped on a nail when I was ten-ish and got one of those red lines going up my leg from blood poisoning. It was cool to watch it creep towards my heart...

24. My dad flew me to New York City on my nineteenth birthday. Just him and me for the weekend. We rode the subway up to the Twin Towers and climbed to the tip-top look out of the Statue of Liberty. I'll never forget it.

25. Is how old I was when I married Kraig. Plus 11 months.

26. Good book + Cocoa + rain + covers = Bliss.

27. I am a certified film reel projectionist. That means I can thread the old school film and start the movie projector.

28. When dating, Kraig tried to be all romantic and carry me up the stairs to my apartment. Instead he dropped me on my head. Now we have a no pick up wife ever rule.

29. Living room dancing to Owl City with my kids = good times.

30. My favorite side kick growing up was a beat on red tape recorder.

31. I embrace herbs, whole foods, and holistic healing.

32. My children are the great joy - & source of hair loss - in my life. The last three were born at home. Kraig delivered Isaak when the midwife left for a football game. (???)

33. I was born to goodly parents...but not savvy ones. They didn't catch on that my new name, Heidi Allison Gessel, spelled HAG until the nurse with the birth certificate was way, WAY down the hospital hallway. My brothers never let me forget it.

And there you go. 33 (nearly profound) thoughts on the 3rd day of my 33rd year about, me.

Three-eee!!

2009-12-03T08:54:00.000-08:00

Kaylynn turned a happy 3 years old two weeks ago. Her birthday wishes were simple. She wanted a Kitty. Check - fur real pets, (it meows and purrs). She wanted Pink. Check - a new outfit and butterfly wings. (Does red count?) She wanted a party... I told her we needed to wait until no kid in the house was sneezing, dripping, or coughing.
That's when I got to see what unhappy three looks like.

Uh,oh.

Dinnertime with Emma

2009-12-01T23:44:00.000-08:00

Hello Emma.
Hello Mommy. Can I play with your camera?
No. But how do you like your dinner?I like squash. I like it on my face, I like it on my head, I like it on my fingers, I like it underneath my bib on my clean clothes.But best of all I love watching you scrubbing squash out of the carpet when I throw my bowl and spoon like a football across the floor. I'm getting ready for powder puff football. Training can never start too early.Yeah, Touchdown!

Pie with some turkey

2009-11-30T23:47:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving day was spent in Alamo, Nevada, the blink and you miss it hometown of Kraig. Here's his Pa riggn' up the tire swing. Hi Pa.Here's Kraig's niece Valery and a cute chunk of a baby. I won't name the baby, because I don't know how to begin to spell his name. So, for today, he shall be known as really cute baby. Hi really cute baby. Here's a tree. Well, what used to be a big shady tree outside the folks house. But then some brothers came over and cut it down because it was dead. Brothers. And I thought having two was bad enough. Kraig has eight! Some brother is always doing some kind of work on their place. Bye tree.
Here's another cute baby, but I know her name. Hi Emmie. Technically your not a "baby" any more, but until you grow more hair I refuse to admit it.
And that's it. The two turkey's were hot and eating got in the way of picture taking.

Lipids of Blubber: Part 2

2009-11-27T23:05:00.000-08:00

An Ode To Flax

Oh flax.
You shiny golden or dark brown
tiny teardrop-ed seed
you.
How the corners of my grin
have taken in
your pleasant nutty flavor
spoonful
after warming fiber
spoonful.
Constipation
gone but for memory
when consuming flax meal topped
oatmeal
sprinkled salad crisp
and smoothly sipped
fruited smoothies.
T’was relish to savor you.
How like sticky egg white
you become when soaked in water
your mucilage becoming the
perfect
hair gel
egg substitute
and my favorite -
soothing tea on acid tummy.
Rejoice I do
in you
and your
magnesium
potassium
B vitamin
protein
zinc
richness.
Oh flax.
So 40% rich in essential fatty acids
your omega-3’s converting to
DHA
in my able body
renews my brain power
and the little
mailman
that sends messages
from one nerve impulse
to another.
Soft, plumping skin and hair follicles
are my beauty secrets
hidden in your
unassuming
yet
economically priced
bulk bin
located
locally
in health food store
locals.
Oh flax.
When I threw your seeds
into the earthen mounds
how happy you were to grow
so freely
without any further care from me.
Your blue flowers
made delicate toppings to
color splashed
summer meals of fanfare
mmmm tasty.
I will not harm you
friend flax.
I will not provoke
with heat
your tender oils
into becoming dangerous
free radicals.
No.
I will keep you safe
safe in refrigerators
preserving lifespan.
Nor will I say hello
to your
cholesterol melting
anti-clotting
anti-inflammatory
blood thinning
health benefits
when I am due to have
surgery.

Yet embrace your
honeyed oil
in big brained baby making
I will.
Hormones!
Soon enough your
moody ways
and flashing mid-life
are soothed into calm
hibernation...
you are no match
for flax.

Oh flax.

Married.

2009-11-12T12:08:00.000-08:00

This is what married seven years to an alien looks like. And he was of such a steady, good natured sort when I first met him!

November 2 was our anniversary and when he walked in with flowers I slapped my forehead with the realization that I had become a statistic....I had forgotten our own wedding anniversary! Sure it's a problematic date, following the heels of Halloween (a stressful time for me - costume making is a weakness), and kicking off two months of more anniversary's, birthdays (4!), and holiday festivities. But still!

When I asked Kraig for a statement he said (after a moment of ponder);

"I would compare our marriage to Vivaldi's Four Seasons...
All season's of change are for a purpose and some seasons are more enjoyable than other's!"

Thank you Kraig.

For my part I will venture to reveal that Kraig and I could well be described as polar opposites in personality, in temperament, and, in most everything else. If we were a stand up routine he would be the strait man. If I was drama he is the antitheses of drama. He's blue, I'm yellow, he's the tortoise, I'm the hare, he's vanilla ice cream, I'm chocolate triple brownie fudge.... you get the picture.

Where we are alike is in our interests and goals. He likes salads, I encourage him to make salads. We both love to read, be outside and feel earth in our fingers. We love spending time with our kids. And, best of all, we love each other.

It may be true that the words, "You drive me crazy!" can be heard often on our stairwell, but I've always been under the impression that sanity is over-rated.

Happy Anniversary Sweetheart! :p

Lipids of Blubber: Part 1

2009-11-12T00:36:00.000-08:00

I was in middle school when designer leotards and Susan Powter's, "Fat makes you fat" mantra, blazed past like streakers running across media's main stream stage. I only too eagerly embraced the "Boo fat!" campaign. I have memory's of happily eating through half gallon's of fat-free ice cream, because I falsely supposed that no fat and low fat meant I could eat away without consequence, or love-handles.

The curtain has closed on Susan's aggressive chanting (Stop the insanity!). Replaced with the sheer weight of growing scientific evidence revealing how good, good fat can be. Not bad fat. Not excessive fat. Just a little bit of the right fat.

There are a number of nutritional fat supplements, oils rather, on the markets today. I like to test out and research many, while making a conscious effort to incorporate healthy fats into my family's diet.

In part 2 of Lipids of Blubber, I'll share a few of my notes on the matter's of fat.

I've been found out!

2009-11-10T19:27:00.001-08:00

Consider this elevator music, blog style. Gaze on, as Emmalina enjoys her book whilst Isaak and Kaylynn carry on a typical afternoon pirate adventure.
And as most of my readers will contentedly scroll down for a closer look at Emma's show and tell, I know there is one individual who shall not be appeased.Yes, she who shall not be named Liz, will be tapping her fingers in tempestuous impatience as she realizes that the long promised posting for which she has looked - is still as yet, absent. Oh the woe. And yet, glimmer. For hope doth approach, oh trusty and true. And nearly before the moon sets will the elbow of my sleeve be at last revealed. For the rest of you, enjoy the elevator music, it's a toe tapper.

Stay that way!

2009-10-13T14:40:00.000-07:00

When I was about 4 years old, my family attended church every Sunday in Anacortes, WA. One week it was discovered that someone was locking all of the stalls in the woman's restroom. The next week it happened again, then again. It got to be a real problem, after all, the solution to the locked doors meant having to cajole some poor-body, dressed in their Sunday best, into crawling down on all fours in order to get under the stall and up the other side, where the latch could be opened.

My dad was a church clerk at the time and so he was in the meetings discussing this ongoing dilemma. Finally surveillance was organized. He recounts the embarrassment and chagrin he felt when the culprit was at last apprehended. "Heidi, why did you lock all the bathroom doors in the ladies room?" I answered with no remorse whatsoever, "Everybody is messing things up and I'm making them stop."
Though debatable my exact phraseology, the facts are clear. The bathrooms got messy. I wanted them clean. Not much has changed. Today when I clean my bathrooms no one is allowed to use them for the rest of the day. When the house is freshly cleaned I take the kids to the park so they can run havoc away from my carpet. I have been known to spot clean my kitchen, then turn around and cart everyone off to a restaurant for dinner.

My under breath running commentary includes, "Didn't I just clean here? Didn't I just pick this up? Didn't I just feed these people? I did just clean here!"

Maybe I should have been a tree hugger. I am just the type of person to run off with snow tire chains and wrap myself to a tree in the Amazon somewhere.
"Stop messing up earth!" I'd shout with cupped hands over my mouth because I forgot my bullhorn.

And, really, wouldn't it be nice if houses, people, and earth could be tidied up and then made to stay that way? (Never-mind for a moment that it would also be boring, uneventful, and lacking in progress. Never you mind.)

Drums with laundry

2009-10-03T21:33:00.001-07:00

Someone once told me; "You march to the beat of different drummer"

Recalling that statement gives my forehead furrows.

My forehead in furrows makes me cranky.
I don't want premature wrinkles!

After a stick of minty gum I relax and I have fresh breath.

Back to the dilemma...
What if I'M the different drummer that I'm marching to?

Hey drummer! Where you going?

Sludge.

2009-09-28T19:17:00.001-07:00

It's like looking through a swampy window pane. It reminds me of the red play house my dad built one summer. It didn't take long for the northwestern moisture, which hung in the air rain or drizzle, to coat a filmy mildew green across it's long, horizontal windows. Guk.This is what I give my children every afternoon. "Drink up," I say. And they do. It's not that they are cheery on the taste, (I've been told it compares to moldy cow cud), but what has supported my cause is the side of pep talk I serve with my frothy mix. "You know," I said once, "Popeye ate his greens when he wanted to be strong." They looked at me quizzically. "Who's Popeye?" Asked Isaak. "Who's Popeye?" Echoed Kaylynn. Now I had their attention. "He's a sailor man." Blink. Isaak broke the silence. "Is that like Superman?" Good enough. "Yeah, and did you know, all super hero's and strong people in general eat their greens?" Kaylynn's eyes got big. "Ooooo. Ready Isaak?" That's all it took. And, come to find out, one quart jar + 2 tbsp. barley grass juice powder + two straws = some pretty competitive sludge racing. Chug-a-lug!

Whatever it is, boring it's not.

2009-09-26T13:40:00.000-07:00

(My brother Jason and I could fill an album with pictures like this.)
Recently I was talking to myself in the mirror. "Heidi," I says, "It's time to do something with your creative angst before atrophy sets in. "The me in the mirror answered back. "Yeah, yeah. You tell me this all the time. It's getting old." The me and the she, that was really me, glared back at myself. "Yeah? Well, but this time I have an idea. Possibly the most creative idea I've had yet!" Now she smirked. "Like when you were 10 and started your own rock band?"

Nostalgia set in. My mind glazed into a fuzzy replay of the short lived trio I had formed with my star struck girlfriends back in the 4th grade. Wham!, Michael Jackson, and the Beach Boys were our inspiration. One girl even brought over an old keyboard. We named ourselves, Geasel And The Weasels. I was Geasel (pronounced GEE-zel). For a few years during elementary school this was my nick name. I can't remember why... I wrote one song for the band before a petty disagreement split us up permanently.

I looked at myself in the mirror again and said, "You never know, the song did have a catchy beat." Me looked back at I, and both of us laughed.

Simply Mud 1986

Saw you walking down the street, boom - boom, boom - boom.
With mud on your feet, boom - boom. Boom - boom.
Saw the look in your eyeee, and I started to cry.
Boom - boom. Boom - boom.

Simply mud, boom - boom, boom - boom.
Simply mud, boom - boom, boom - boom.
Simply mah-uud, simply mud, boom - boom, boom - boom.

Said we were friends, boom - boom, boom - boom.
Guess you were wrong, boom - boom, boom - boom.
Cause I'm alooone now, and so are you.
Boom - boom, boom - boom.

Simply mud, boom - boom, boom - boom.
Simply mud, boom - boom, boom - boom.
Simply mah-uud, simply mud, boom - boom, boom - boom.

ISAAK speaks Zortronese

2009-09-20T16:22:00.000-07:00

Welcome. Today we have a guest blogger. (Isaak now dictates what to type)

His name is Isaak Spencer. Isaak Spencer. He is going to put a picture and a funny story on this blog. Isaak Spencer. That's his name. O.K.? I want to write something silly, because that would be, silly. Right mom?
I think I can type it myself. I think the family is silly. I think I'll write a funny word about them.
VGFHNKJMVFDREWQAZXSDERTYHGBVNMJKIUYTGFVCXZDSAWQER
TGBHGHJJJJJJJJGHHHHHHHHGFTRYBVNCDXZSASECGFHBNBHHGBNBNBHGGGTFGTYFGTT
FRSHJJNBMDGFSHKJHGJKMBVNMNXBZDESWTGFRHBNVFKMJNMHHJTYTYYYYYFTBVFDEES
DDXXXZDXZVBCDSEWHKUMNBVGFTREWDSCXZVHHHHUIJKKKKKJYHHGFVBCDDDDVCXDSFRTE
WHHHHHHHHXDSSVZHVBGFCDXSAZHHHHHHHHHHHHHJJJJJJJJJCCCCCCWWWWWWXCVFGRSDXC
VBMBNJMKUGHYTRRTDFDSCXZSAWQERT55555555555555555555555555
Good-bye.

ALIEN INVASION!

2009-09-16T09:00:00.000-07:00

Ol' blog-o has been lagging of late. And I have a good excuse. No, no. The dog didn't eat Isaak's homework. Aliens ate it! That's right. Alien's from plant Scorponie landed in the attic and proceeded to multiply! Uncounted numbers of translucent blond invaders of various sizes creeped and crawled their way out of the inner walls and into the toy boxes and dimly lit corners around the house!
Was it bad enough to wake up to see one neighborly transgressor (who I named Ted) hanging out directly over my head? Nope. One slippery pest (who I named Sally) fell out of the fan vent and onto ME. As you can imagine, the reaction to that was one of shrieking, leaping into the bathtub, shrieking some more, and Kraig roused from slumber to stumble dazed and panicked into the bathroom to deal death to my offender. Bye Sally.The bug man was on his way. Uh oh. Hold on bug man. Emmalina was with fever, Kaylynn coughed, and Isaak threw-up. We became a sick house for nearly a month as the germs were passed around the family one member at a time. Because I had decided that when the bug man came the slaughter would be swift and toxic, we were going to leave for a night or two and stay with family. With sick kids that plan was now warm salsa, and so, we waited. Each night Kraig canvassed the sideboards with a black light. He was on the hunt. (scorpions glow in the dark with a black light, freaky huh?)

All was well....well until one evening I walked in to put the children to bed and spied with horror a scorpion (named Dwight) sashaying along the wall by Isaak's pillow. Bad move Dwight. Soon he was dead and we were on our way to a hotel. One mushroom cloud and 4 days later we were back home, safe, on the mend, (the humidifier came to the hotel with us) and invasion free. For now.

P.S. We stayed at a newer hotel called The Cannery which boasted rates of $30. a night. When we arrived and there was a small problem with our first room, that rate dropped down to $20. Gotta love Vegas in a recession!

Some weeks are longer than others...

2009-09-06T09:14:00.000-07:00

The blood bath of pureed cream of beet, which was so vigorously splattered on the wall...

the baby, the floor, the blinds, and...Kraig...

Being applied with disregard and without concern, for property, and proper table etiquette... Yes, this would prove to be the first effecting indicator that this week would be a week - with more week in it than other weeks. And that, at the end of such said week (would it ever come?) would be -was- celebrated with chocolate and a long, hot, water heater emptying, shower. Ahh, hahhh.

2 minutes + 2 years old = Happimess.

2009-08-25T21:10:00.000-07:00

Mommy - Kaylynn! Why are there numerous piles of muffin crumbs hiding in the living room?!
Kaylynn - Well, that's because I'm a doggy.
Mommy - All right. And what did you do with the rest of your muffin?
Kaylynn - I squished it with my shoe.
Mommy - Great. Anything else?
Kaylynn - Nothing else. Nothing. Cause I eat all of it.
Mommy - And why did you spread your muffin everywhere?
Kaylynn - Cause that muffin is mine.
Mommy - Yeah? Well now your muffin is all over my house.
Kaylynn - Well. I'm just very hungry.
Mommy - I see.
Kaylynn - We need to vacuum it.
Mommy - You think so?
Kaylynn - Yep!

And away he goes...to Kindegarden.

2009-08-24T23:55:00.001-07:00

Isaak's favorite color? Blue. Color of his new school? Blue. Was it a sign?

Worries. Frets. More worries. Nail biting. Did I mention worries? Our first born son was about to embark on what would be a defining milestone in his young life. Certainly he would be nervous. We decided we'd ease the transition and posse' up in a show of support. Kraig, myself, my mom, and the kids all piled in and drove to the school together. As we got out and walked up to the school, Isaak excitedly walked ahead, making us all look like a bunch of groupies stalking behind him. Minutes of weaving around the bustle of students and parents later, we stood before a gate, that, once entered, would divide the parents from the tight grips of their children.

I knelt down next to him and smoothed his hair once more. I began to reassure him of what a good day this was going to be, but he cut me off. "Can I go play on the playground now?" We looked at each other. He smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, you go have a good time." As I said this my eye's began to mist over. I was glad I was wearing my sunglasses. My boy was ready. I was the one who needed the group support. So, as the teacher continued checking students in, and as parents held their sobbing children nearby, Isaak played happily on the little playground just outside the door to his classroom. Meanwhile, Kraig, myself, my mother, Kaylynn, and the baby; stood behind the wall, and in near silence, watched.

"Maybe it was the new shoes." I pondered this out loud but only Kaylynn heard me. "Oh." she replied with a deep sigh, "Shooes."

Who's alien now?

2009-08-19T02:04:00.000-07:00

Common knowledge these days affirms that Heidi is not from this planet. But what of Kraig? Mr. Straight-laced himself would tell you he is 100%, through and through, bleed-true earthling. Alright Kraig - how then, do you explain...THIS!
>

Alien's are hungry too.

2009-08-17T21:42:00.000-07:00

A common comment to my husband or myself goes something like this, "We'd like to invite you to dinner, but we don't know what to feed you." And in casual conversations I am often asked, "So what DO you eat?"
I think for a moment. Should I tell them that our idea of lasagna is eggplant noodles layered in amongst nettles, fresh herbs, veggies & tomato sauce? Would it be too much to say that lunch at our house is often purple rice (which has an uncanny resemblance to earwigs) with steamed veggies on the side, or slices of toasted Ezekiel bread with raw sesame tahini a la' smidge o' molasses on top? And that a quick pick-me-up of hummus, mustard, and fresh basil spread on a spelt tortilla, really hits the spot when I'm running out the door?
Maybe they should know that when we invite guests to dinner, I too fret over what to place on the table. Will it be the sprouted barley & kale soup? The moist, candy-like kumbacha squash, or the multi-colored potatoes baked with coconut oil in a clay baker? How would the quinoa tabouli laced with olive oil and sprig's of parsley's delicate clusters; or the millet dumplings in broth with herbed salt be received? Maybe they would enjoy one of our favorites: rolls of basmati rice wrapped in nori & chunked avocado slices, dipped in Nayma Shoyo sauce. Then there's my back-up for everything; beans. Large pots of various legume based concoctions can be found frequently boiling away like witches brew on my stove-top as I dance around the kitchen throwing pinches of this-es and that's-es hap-hazardly towards the bubbling pot. Disclosing this information may be, at best, somewhat entertaining, if not long-winded. But it wouldn't be getting down to the heart of the matter, which is,
the very why I feel about food the way I do, and why I cook and eat with my family the way I do. To answer this I direct us along to one of my (hands down) favorite books ever; 'Healing with Whole Foods', by Paul Pitchford. Any one of his 500+ pages speaks to me like a kindred soul wrapping arms of peaceful intent about me in a metaphorical hug as the lullaby, "Eat well, be well" nearly hums off the pages. "Oh Paul," I whisper as Kraig munches noisily on his mammoth salad, "I love.......your book." It is Paul who first confirmed to me what I have intuitively felt all my life: foods have power. They live! They heal!
But back to our original dilemma. How then are we to be fed when generously invited to dine away from our double-take fare?

With acceptance. We like our company, and when we like our company, we like our company's food. (Unless it's moo-ing or squid-ing, then we'll have to strike a compromise.) A wise someone once said, "Good company is like good medicine", and, "It is better to eat a cookie with a smile than to eat an apple with a frown".

So if you happen to be one of those that shiver when you consider the Spencer's as dinner guests, will you show us some acceptance? If you cook it, we will come. We will eat. We will be well.

There and back again. A Zortron's tale.

2009-08-16T15:45:00.000-07:00

After a busy summer, we decided it was time to take a trip. Utah for two days with my cousin Camille, hubby Hugo, and very bright daughter Emma, (thanks Emma & parent's for being such fun, and sharing your house with us! we love you!). After a lovely dinner at my Aunt Phyllis's home we drove through the night to Washington. We were going there to spend some precious moments with my ailing granddaddy and dearest grandma.
A surprise highlight came in the meeting of my parents' chickens at de'la coop da-Gessel (aka, back of the house). Of the 16 feathered beast's pecking about like ol' bittie's busy...pecking, only one has had the "honor" of being named. Introducing the quick, the clever, the very aptly dubbed (drum roll please) Houdini! She liked to escape and hide her eggs in mysterious places rendering them un-edible when found at last...that is, until she met her match in Kraig and my brother Jason. Together they humorously chased, cornered, scuffled, screamed like a woman (the bird that is), and ultimately (and humanely I might add), cut her flying days short. Literally. No,no, not dinner! Wing feathers!
[---At this juncture Kraig would like to add that he feels he took that chicken down like no other chicken has been taken down, in Gessel history . And, as put in his own words, "Look at the chicken wearing the gloves!" ----]

Moving on... to Amity, OR for a TOO short visit with Kraig's sister and family, we flew past Mt. Saint Helen's (wait, that was before OR) and on to four enjoyable days in Crescent City, CA. There, where the coast meets the sea, oh. I mean, where the land meets the sea, or, is it the forest meets the sea? You know what I mean? There is this ocean, it's big; and a lot of beaches, sand, rocks, and then there's the tallest trees in the world in the Redwood Forest, all right next to each other. Amazing. We spent time on the beach, camped, and toured the State Parks.We wished to have been able to have stopped to see all the family and many friends that we drove past on our way. Alas, not to be. But we did have some quality family time despite Kaylynn telling us it was time to go home every night (she wasn't too keen on tent's and darkness). And that's just what we needed. (Not to go home! To spend some time together!)

To the edge and back

2009-08-14T01:58:00.000-07:00

Gone for a two week trip, we are recovering (that's the best description after traveling with little children) at home and preparing Isaak for kindergarten. More post's on our trip shortly.

Try saying it three times. Really fast.

2009-07-22T09:49:00.000-07:00

Planet Zortron is full of long winded names. I figured what's good enough for Zortron is good enough for Earth. Apparently not everyone share's my sentiments. At least we didn't name her Tula Does The Hula (though I did think the name had a catchy ring to it). Truthfully the poor kid who got THAT name ended up in a court case against her own parents suing for damages based on cruelty. Maybe her parents were from Zortron too.
Emmalina (pronounced Emma-LEE-na) Patricia-Janice (pronounced Jah-NEICE); had her first birthday the day before I went to Girls Camp. Last night we celebrated her with a swimming party, but on her actual birthday Kraig was determined that she would get a proper acknowledgement of her special day. So as I packed he made banana ice cream topped with molasses and we were all entertained by her first attempts at feeding herself with a spoon.

With only two bottom teeth to call her own, we imagine that if Em, Emmie, Emma, or (as we call her) Baby, could talk, she would have said, "All I want for my birthday is my two front teeth!" As it is, the tooth fairy must have heard her baby birthday wishes because within a week her two front teeth had arrived!

P.S. And the family I left behind?

2009-07-14T10:29:00.000-07:00

In true Mr. Mom fashion, Kraig stayed home with our children. I returned to happy kids AND a clean house. What a guy.

To Zortron; With love, Girls Camp

2009-07-13T20:47:00.000-07:00

FYI for inquiring minds: Girls Camp is a annual phenomena held for girls 12-17 yrs of age. Though it is a program developed primarily for the LDS youth, there were 3 non-member participants this year in our camp of 34. Growing up I went to camp every year. By my 6th year I looked forward to the 5 day retreat from the world so much that I memorized camp songs in my room at night and shopped thrift stores by day for every premeditated article of clothing that was to become my camp-wear ensemble.
Despite 15 years of added (one hopes) maturity, some things haven't changed.
What has changed is that I, the once shy little 12 year old, so completely influenced by my surrounding's, has grown up. No longer shy, now I have the opportunity to seek out ways to influence others. It has been a full circle experience for me.
As a youth, Girls Camp changed my life. I felt a reverent oneness with God and creation in a undeniable way. It was there that I first came to realize that being different was not a weakness. I gained the courage to be myself.

Something magical happens when people are taken out of their natural habitat. No T.V., greasy hair, and limited access to a mirror works wonders for the ego. Social barriers, personal fears, and closed mindedness are all given the chance to melt away as compassion, confidence, and love grow in their place.There are not many places where ears unplug, minds open, hearts embrace... all while practical jokes are being pursued and much laughter is being laughed. MUCH laughter.I had a lot of help. A sail boat without wind is... a boat. A boat adrift. I had a whole crew that blew wind into the sail of Girls Camp. (Does that mean I can call them windbags?)So was all the work, struggle, and sacrifice worth it? Will I ever return?In true camp fashion I sum up in two words:Gimme S'MORE!

Wait life. Just wait. I'll be right back.

2009-06-29T00:53:00.000-07:00

Everyone has a "happy spot." Some have Disneyland. Some have chocolate. Some have Disneyland and chocolate. Some have a dog. I have Girls Camp.
After 11 years absence, I will return again to the excitement and fray that is camp life. Only, this time my happy spot comes with a catch called: Work. Being the leader I can no longer just show up and eat the food. I can't pass the buck, I am the buck!
Girls Camp is fast approaching. My life, house, and the clothes my children aren't wearing, all resemble camp land. Posters, s'mores, bedrolls, and t-shirts are part of the new decor on display around my home. Eeee!
So quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep, I'm rocking my three babies and Girls Camp; and neither of them keep.

With sadness, Zortron says good-bye

2009-06-24T01:10:00.000-07:00

Kraig's long time co-worker and good friend, Jim King, died June 23rd, after a seven month battle with cancer. This picture here (Jim stands in the front holding a baseball cap) was taken a few months ago when Kraig's boss flew them all to CA for a day of ocean fishing together. It was something Jim loved to do. He out-lived the doctor's 3 month prognosis and was still coming into work to the very last week. He was a good man and will be sorely missed.

Not a home-body; a space-body!

2009-06-19T01:17:00.000-07:00

If it hasn't sunk in yet, let me confirm.
The trampoline/spaceship has become like another room in the house. Lazy Sunday evenings often find the whole family, (along with numerous picnic blankets, pillows, and reading material) lounging together upon it's bouncy landing pad. We read stories. We look off into space and pontificate. We wear miss-matched flower pajamas...

Something happens to the clothes...

2009-06-19T00:39:00.000-07:00

In this desert land it gets hot. Hot as in, step outside and melt your hair to your head and your mascara to your cheeks kinda hot. Keeping clothes on a toddler in more temperate weather is hard enough. Here, it's impossible. Each morning hair is brushed, clothes are picked out and put on. By 11am the shirt is missing in action. By 2pm I find the pants behind the sofa. By the time Kraig gets home from work the hair has become sticky and matted. Now to greet him is a wild bush woman that resembles a little girl. Her daddy picks her up and says, "Where's all your clothes?" She smiles and squeezes his neck flesh. "I doe no!" Then she pushes his cheeks together to make a fishy face. "Fishy kisses!" She cries, and plants a smacker right on his fishy lips. Ah, well. I tried anyhow.

I can fly!

2009-06-03T14:30:00.000-07:00

And you could to if you had a mommy with rocket booster feet!

Yes Virginia, there really is a Spaceship.

2009-05-29T10:27:00.000-07:00

Christmas 2008. Kraig and Heidi were in the throws of deciding the fates of gifts and giving. Heidi wanted a spaceship. Kraig was in agreement but he wasn't going to make it easy. "You would want a spaceship. You are an alien after all." Heidi was ready for him. "Just think dear, when I feel claustrophobic in this barren land I can hop on the spaceship and take a ride." But Kraig was shaking his head. "We'd have to anchor it to the ground. The winds, you know, we get those high gusts off the mountain." As he spoke his face grew a funny half smirk. "Of course, you can always ride your broom, no anchors needed for that." Heidi's eyes turned angry green as she locked her alien death glare upon him. It would be so easy to turn him into a pile of quivering goo...so tempting... After a long moment, composure was regained. She was going to take the high road. "Think of the children!!"

And so it came to be Christmas morn, and the family gathered outside to open their bouncy, otherworldly gift. It was not under the tree because,(and both agreed on this point) spaceships are like big dogs and garbage trucks, they don't belong in the house.

Baby Djembe

2009-05-25T23:27:00.000-07:00

Apes alive!

2009-05-21T22:49:00.000-07:00

Zortron was invaded by space monkeys! With their wild ways and cheerful disregard for peace and order, they overtook the planet and made mad mayhem with much disarray the resulting... result. An end of patience as well as an overwhelming need for a chocolate bar were, thankfully, the only injuries sustained in the fray to reestablish the heads of government. Just as the last fragile strands of hope for sanity were fading, the monkeys were dealt a swooping blow when the astute daddy caught them by their tales, skinned them alive and plopped them into a vat of bubbling bubbles, which dissolved all remaining traces, and smells, of monkeyness.

Alien horse cake.

2009-05-20T00:19:00.000-07:00

Isaak turned 5 years old! Mama alien, not from this planet, had a difficult time getting used to the idea of such things as party throwing and cake making. "This year will be different!" She boasted with confidence, after all, she had Google and Visa on her side.

After the balloons, the face painting, the happy children, the not so happy children, the pumpkin pinata, and the strange yellow horse head cake, Mama alien could indeed voice with gusto, "Different!"

Mine Eyes!

2009-05-18T20:54:00.000-07:00

There they were. Simple aliens really. All gathered around the table eating swirly noodles with a side o' chard, dinner was focused on being eaten. Lo! Mama alien looked up and saw that where Kaylynn's eyes had been, two sticky fingers jabbed the inner corners, clearly attempting a take over. "Mama! Mommee!" She trilled with glee. "Yes, my small alien child?" Mama alien replied with concelled horror. "Where's mine eye's? Mine eye's!" Kaylynn alien child jabbed her fingers even further into her eye sockets. Daddy earthling kept his cool. "This is a good dinner mama alien." And he helped himself to seconds. Mama alien decided it was time to take action. She lunged across the table, attacking the finger jabbers with one fell swoop. "Oh there they are! Thanks mommy! There's my eyes!" Kaylynn was a happy two-eyed alien once more. Zortron will rest well tonight.

Our little Emma.

2009-05-17T20:16:00.000-07:00

Kraig married an alien.

2009-05-16T16:16:00.000-07:00

I am trapped here on this planet with a family of aliens. They have kidnapped me and made me their slave. I have to work 8 hours a day to provide them with food, transportation and housing. Their Uncle Sam and his cousin ‘Medical Insurance’ takes 20% of my pay before the aliens get a hold of it. Every night when I get home from a hard day of work they attack me and make me chase them around the house, change dirty diapers, wipe stinky bums and read them multiple stories. They keep multiplying around me for some unknown reason. To begin with there was only 1, now there are 3 more and who knows when another might start to grow…
Tonight they made me watch this movie with this crazy lady who made us contort our bodies into strange positions. I thought I was going to a Toga party, but it turns out it was a Yoga party…. If it would have at least been a Yoda party it would have been quite interesting.

**A few months back Heidi awoke to find this written in on her word processor. She thought it would be a fitting post for this blog, noting the subject matter.

Welcome to Zortron!

2009-05-16T05:03:00.000-07:00

2009-05-16T04:10:00.000-07:00

Nanu, nanu.