Smokey Bones

We take time out of your regularly scheduled life to bring you some previously recorded episodes. Yep, thanks to potty training I feel like we're in the summer reruns period of the TV schedule. So while we put life on hold and try to get this task done, I'll be posting some things we've done earlier but I haven't had time to write about up until now.

Last weekend we went to one of the big festivals here in Columbus: The Jazz and Ribs Festival. Being a fan of jazz (thanks to being married to Andy, who loves to play jazz piano) and having recently discovered the joy of ribs (thanks to Nate Harris and his amazing Dr. Pepper soaked beauties), this seemed to be the perfect combination. We miss the blessed event last year because we were out of town and I couldn't pass up another chance. On Friday we picked up Andy from work and walked down to Riverfront Park, which was lined with vendors from all over the country selling ribs, each with its own special flavor. With so many choices, I let Andy decide.

The picture doesn't capture the impressiveness of this spectacle. This guy is up on a huge riser managing two gigantic BBQs bursting with ribs. Notice the elbow-length gloves he's wearing to combat the heat.

Where we finally ended up getting our food. I was a bit taken aback by how expensive the ribs were: Between $20 and $25 for a rack of ribs. They did sell bones for $1 each. Can someone tell me why you'd buy just one bone? Does it have meat on it or do you just suck on the bone?
Full rack, with coleslaw, cornbread, and delicious baked beans. Andy's slathering on extra sauce.
What would a Midwestern festival be without a booth that offers fried everything? The Ohio State Fair just started and I can't wait to go to see the array there of fried morsels. Will I try any? No. I am opposed to pretty much fried anything.
Ben loved the ribs and the beans. Can you see the sauce on his face? I'm afraid the beans might have had some wheat ingredients in them, but we pumped him full of Benadryl. That might have partly accounted for the huge fit he threw when we tried to leave and then the immediate crash in the car afterwards.
Love it! For those of you who are wondering why I recently discovered the joy of ribs, I'll explain. They always seemed really messy, expensive, and alot of work for not much food.

Overall, the food was good, but the entertainment so-so. I guess I was expecting more like Harry Connick, Jr.-type jazz, versus the random/loud/grating offerings that were at the festival. I'm glad I went, to say I've been, but I think a BBQ restaurant with live music would be just as fun. Anyone know of a good BBQ restaurant in Ohio?

It's Go Time

Literally. I've put off potty training Ben for as long as possible, but yesterday at our annual pediatrician visit, she told me that I have to bite the bullet and do it. Now. No excuses. He's over three years old and starts preschool in a month. If I'm really honest, I've been waiting for Ben to magically potty train himself. My dream is that he wakes up one morning and has it all figured out. I have a friend whose son really did that, so it's not out of the realm of possibility, right?

I've been very halfhearted up to this point because he won't sit on the pot. Inherent in the potty training deal is that the kid will agree to sit. If the kid doesn't sit, then it's basically just the parent banging their head against the wall. His other problem is that if we can get him to sit on the pot, he holds it until he's done sittting and then lets it fly as soon as he leaves the bathroom. This has happened every time I've tried. We have yet to have any actual pee in the pot. Sigh... This morning I was on the phone in the kitchen and Ben opened the fridge door. I was on the other side of the door and couldn't see anything, but heard what I thought was him getting a drink from the water dispenser. Alas, I turned around to find that he'd peed in the fridge instead. So for six tries of sitting on the toilet today, we've come up empty four times and had two wet pants on the ground afterwards. Double sigh........ I feel like I'm swimming in urine.

I promise, that's the only gory story you'll hear from me. No list of how many times he poops (or does BMs, for those of you who prefer a more sanitary euphemism). I personally hate that phrase. So we're armed with a load of Thomas underwear and tomorrow we're off to the library to check out lots of books and movies to entertain him while practicing, to the grocery store to buy lots of juice to get the juices flowing and for other goodies to "incentivize" (read - Bribe) him to go.

Send all your positive karma our way and I'd love to hear any and all pearls of potty training wisdom.

Sweet Nectar of Life

Hi, my name is Nollie and I'm addicted to Handel's ice cream. Last Saturday was one I've been looking forward to for a long time: Dollar Cone Day. We waited in line for 30 minutes, no joke, but it was worth the wait. If you live in Columbus (or anywhere in OH for that matter) and haven't been to Handel's, go now. I'm not kidding. Stand right up, walk out the door and drive down to Feder Road for your own little taste of heaven. Graeter's (another famous Midwest ice cream shop) doesn't even hold a candle to this, I promise. The things that set Handel's apart are their amazingly fresh ice cream and unbelievably authentic flavors. Chocolate cake batter is one of my new favorites. It seriously tastes like you're licking the spatula. Other favorites are Graham Central Station, Chocolate Peanut Butter Brownie, Chocolate Oreo, and Coffee Chocolate Chip (are you sensing a theme?). I could keep going, but I'll stop there. It also gives you a sense for how often we frequent Handel's. Once a week and often more is our M.O. during the summer. Thankfully, it's open year round and we've been known to freeze our tushies off in the frigid Ohio winter while savoring the delectable goodness.
But if you thinking, "She's just one person. How good could this stuff really be?" In the immortal words of LeVar Burton from Reading Rainbow, "You don't have to take my word for it." Yes, none other than National Geographic Traveler magazine voted Handel's the BEST ice cream in the world. Rated above Italian gelaterias and French ice cream parlors. I'm not kidding people, this is life-changing stuff. Come visit us in Columbus and I'll be more than happy to take you to taste for yourself. :)

Get Smart

Note to self: Don't leave 3-year-old alone downstairs while you are upstairs "just for a minute." You think I would have learned after the Cheeto incident. Apparently I need remedial parenting lessons because this afternoon I came back downstairs to find Ben sitting on our counter after pushing a chair over so he could climb up. He'd emptied half of our spice rack onto the counter (the majority of it mustard seed with others sprinkled on top) and told me, "Mom, my cars are dirty. They need a bath." He got two new Cars toys last week and has been obsessed with them ever since. He gives them daily baths in our sink, which is nice because it keeps him occupied for tens of minutes at a time, versus the usual 2-3 minute attention span.

Since everything was dry it wasn't too bad to clean up. I got a large part of it removed, but then managed to be a butterfingers and spill a mixture of milk, oil, and eggs (I was making muffins) onto the remainder of the spices I hadn't quite gotten to, which then took 20 minutes to scrub off. Another note to self: Sometimes multitasking doesn't pay off.

A Different Kind of Superhero

Have any of you seen the new Batman movie, "The Dark Knight"? As many of you know, Andy and I are movie buffs, but I've been deterred from this movie by some reviews and articles commenting on how violent and, well, dark the movie is. They all comment on how well Heath Ledger plays The Joker, but that at times it's too much.

It all started a few months ago when I saw a preview for "The Dark Knight." My impression was that it seemed more disturbing than the previous Batman. So last Friday I hastily opened to the movie review in The Wall Street Journal, eager to read the verdict of the paper's well-respected critic. His description was that, despite its PG-13 rating, this movie is "hyperviolent." The review in our local paper, The Columbus Dispatch alluded to the same thing. "It luxuriates in the allure of clever villainy with a maximum of violence accepted by the PG-13 rating (which the filmmakers managed to finesse by avoiding even the slightest profanity). This isn't a children's movie.." What struck me is that critics, often seen as a callous and jaded bunch, who see movies for a living and have clearly sat through their share of gory flicks, comment on the show's violence. To me, that says something.

The New York Times review didn't focus as much on the violence as the artistry of the movie, but another article in today's Wall Street Journal really caught my attention. Particularly this part: "All color, lyricism, and virtually any humor that doesn't partake of the macabre is gone from this Batman story. There isn't even a hint that this PG-13 film might be suitable for youngsters, as many parents of distraught preteens have discovered. The Joker's psychotic brutality -- he impales one character on a pencil and in a shocking scene blows one of the franchise's leading female characters to smithereens -- makes a mockery of the rating system."

Disclaimer: I am not anti-action movies. As a fan of the Bourne triology, the recent James Bond movie, "Batman Begins," and other such flicks, I enjoy seeing the good guy kick someone's trash as much as the next person. I'm just bothered by the fact that often gratuitious violence replaces good characterization, smart dialogue, and clever plotlines as a mode of entertainment. It's as if the movies' creators don't think we are capable of handling subtlety. Instead, we must be bludgeoned over the head in order to keep our attention. If it's too much for children, why isn't it too much for adults? Are we just presumed to be desensitized by much of our culture's disrespect for life?

With that said, I'm interested to hear your thoughts if you've seen the movie, or whether or not you're planning to and why.

Superman

When did my baby grow up? Over the past week I've been struck by how big he is. We often refer to Ben as "The Baby," since he's the only kid in the house, but he's clearly anything but. He looks older to me, thanks to the new haircut and he talks a mile a minute. I am constantly amazed at the minute details of life that he remembers (places we've been, things people did weeks ago) and by his fun personality.

Here are some pictures of our not-so-little boy.

While in Utah, my friend Mandy gave Ben a superhero cape. Yesterday put it on and "flew" around for much of the afternoon. If anyone is in need of a simple craft, this one is it. A little fabric, some velcro, and voila!
Two days ago Ben decided he was done with the plastic tee and asked if I would pitch the baseball to him. Much to my surprise, he can make contact and hit it quite far. We spent an hour outside with me as his pitching machine, Ben repeating, "Go!" time after time when he wanted me to toss him the ball.
A close-up of the Lightning McQueen rain boots he's worn nonstop since Saturday when the arrived in the mail, courtesy of Grandma Annette. It was very serendipitious because earlier that day he was over at a friend's house where they played with the most amazing Cars racetrace I've ever seen. He was inconsolable when I picked him up and didn't want to leave because he was having so much fun with the Cars toys. So there must have been some grandmotherly intuition going on when that afternoon the boots arrived in the mail.

We swam at the YMCA for Family Night a few weeks ago. Ben is modeling his dolphin goggles. He likes to jump off the side into our arms nonstop and even jumped in by himself into the 3 feet deep water, but cried afterwards because he wasn't expecting to be totally submerged.

Update

I know this is totally frivolous and that nobody really cares, but I ended up getting the jacket below, thanks to my sister/personal shopper, Bekka. A few nights ago, the phone rang at midnight and I thought someone had died. Why else would anyone call that late? It turns out Bekka was at her mall in Phoenix (9 p.m. her time) and spied said jacket. There were two left and she wanted to get the go-ahead to buy it for me (the other for her, of course). After some pictures sent via cellphone, we okayed the deal and it ended being a bonus that the jackets were in a pretty pinky salmon color instead of the khaki in the picture.

The best part, the jackets were originally $168, down to $19.99. A cool 90% off. Gotta love a good sale.

Sob!

A tiny piece of my soul is dying right how because this jacket, which was marked down to $19.99 from $88 on JCrew.com is sold out. I am a total sucker for jackets.

Desert Island

If you're a fan of The Office, you'll remember the episode where Ryan the Temp accidentally sets off the fire alarms and everyone has to clear out of the building. While people are waiting in the parking lot, Jim starts a game of Desert Island. He names a category and each person has to name their top few picks that they would want to have if they were stranded on a desert island. My favorite part is when asked about what books she'd take, Angela (the extremely conservative, disapproving, school-marmish one) says, "The Bible, A Purpose Driven Life, and The DaVinci Code...So I could burn it."

Anyway, as I opened my mailbox yesterday, giddy with joy to find my new issue of Real Simple magazine, I played Desert Island with myself. If I were stranded on a desert island, what three magazines would I take with me (or that could get dropped to me every month)?

I've come up with this list:

1. InStyle

2. Real Simple

3. The Economist

What magazines would you take? I'm going to copy something that a friend did a while back and ask people who read but don't comment to come out of the shadows and leave a note. I can't wait to see what people like. And don't worry, you are not being judged for your taste in reading material. This coming from the person who reads the back of the cereal box.

Gotta Love a Little Controversey

Oh, to be back on grad school right now, sitting around the big table in my media ethics seminar discussing the current controversey over the cover of The New Yorker magazine (pictured above). Have you heard the fuss? Basically they're being skewered from both sides about the tastefulness of running a cover that satirizes some people's perceptions of the Obamas. The rumors that Barack is a closet Muslim and Michelle a black militant, celebrating their victory in the Oval Office while the American flag burns. Personally, I think it's quite clever and I'd like to think that the Obamas got a good laugh about it themselves. Once you run for office and become a public figure, everything's fair game.

Will it just be more fuel for the fire of those who believe some of the misinformation? Is it a put-down from the left, mocking conservatives who dare challenge the ascent of the Obamas? I'd love to hear your thoughts on the subject.

Put Your Hands Up...

And step away from the clippers. Someone should have told me that before I decided to give Ben his summer "haircut." More of a shearing. It's hot and his hair was getting long, so I thought he should get a summer 'do like lots of other little boys. I borrowed some clippers from a friend and snapped on the #2 guard, thinking it would do the trick. Well, it turned out a little shorter than expected.

We went from this (on Friday morning)...

To this on Friday afternoon. He's looks like he's ready to report for boot camp. The sucker was his reward for holding still while I cut his hair.
It was a shock at first, but I'm getting used to it and actually think it's pretty cute. Plus, it's fun to rub my hand against his head now - I like the feel of it.

Book Launch Party

As many of you know, Andy's mom just had her first novel published. We went to Utah two weeks ago and got to attend the book launch party at The King's English bookstore in Salt Lake City. The bookstore itself was wonderful, quaint and stocked with thousands of well-known as well as regional authors. A bibliophile's dream. They held the book signing on the back patio and the event was catered with delicious crudités and luscious bite-sized desserts such as brownies, raspberry tartlets, and lemon bars. We mixed and mingled with friends and relatives and enjoyed the beautiful summer evening. Annette has worked really hard on publicity for her novel and the bookstore said that it was the best attended author signing they've held there.

Warning: Shameless Promotion Alert. For more information you can go to www.annettehaws.com. If you're interested in buying a copy of the book, you can find it on Amazon.com at http://www.amazon.com/Waiting-Light-Change-Annette-Haws/dp/B001941HSK/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1215649737&sr=1-1. It is also available at Deseret Book and Seagull Book and will be in the next issue of the Deseret Book catalog. We are very proud of her and I'm looking forward to her next novel that's in the works.

Andy's great aunt and grandma sampling the refreshments.
Andy and Ben taking a break in the children's book room.
One of my best friends, Mandy Morgan, was able to make it to the signing. All during college people thought we were sisters.
Ben downed about 15 cups of lemonade that night and kept bringing Annette drinks and climbing on her chair to "help Grandma."
My sis Kira and her boy toy, Nathan, made a whirlwind appearance up from Provo (they're both students at The "B"). They were in SLC for a day of festivities and headed out afterward to meet friends at the newly-opened Cheesecake Factory. Oh, the life of a celebutante.

Cheeto Bandito

This afternoon I went upstairs and Ben stayed downstairs. He was very quiet, so I seized the chance to quickly check my email. The silence should have been my first clue. After ten minutes, Ben came upstairs to play and it was a few minutes before I noticed that his face was covered in orange Cheeto gunk. He'd asked for Cheetos when we were having lunch, but I didn't let him have any since they're reserved for picnics and other outings. Apparently, he found the Cheetos himself and ate the remaining fourth of the bag while I left him alone.

As soon as I saw his face I ran downstairs, hoping that he'd contained the mess to our wood floors. At first I didn't see anything and was relieved to think that a crisis had been averted. I even checked the garbage can to see if he'd been courteous enough to throw the empty bag away. When I couldn't find any telltale signs I asked Ben to show me where the Cheetos were. He led me to his hiding spot, behind one of the wingback chairs in our living room. It was covered with debris and the carpet streaked with orange grease. It wouldn't have been so bad except for the fact that I'd spent five hours last week shampooing our carpets while Ben was gone.

To let the punishment fit the crime, I had him vacuum up as much of the mess as he could and then I spent the next 15 minutes scrubbing the carpets. There's still a bit of a tint, but thankfully the chair will cover it. Hopefully when we eventually move, the prospective owners will not think to look behind the chair.

A close-up of the carnage.

Addendum

I take it back. After writing the other post, I thought harder and rememberd that in the past ten years I have had some other unique Fourths of July. In 1998 I was 18 years old and in Queenstown, New Zealand, with a tour group full of other people around my age . We had a big cake and did sparklers in the cold winter air. Two friends and I took a late night walk and admired the Southern Cross constellation in the pitch-black sky. You can see it on the right in the picture of the Australian flag, above. It's the southern hemisphere's version of the North Star: the constellation by which they navigate. In 2000 I was in Amman, Jordan with the BYU-Jerusalem program. A group of us took taxis to the Hard Rock Cafe where we ate, danced, and partied like garish American tourists.

All growing up in southeastern Washington we watched the fireworks that the city set off from barges on the Columbia River. We'd drive up to the hills behind our house and turn on the radio to the music they choreographed and broadcast to go along with the fireworks display. Either that or we were in Salt Lake visiting relatives and did fireworks on my great grandma's driveway with a passel of assorted cousins.

What are your favorite memories or traditions for the Fourth of July?

The Fourth of July

For the second year in a row, I watched the Hilliard fireworks from the window in our second floor playroom. Last year we were new in town and didn't know anyone, so Andy and I watched them together in our new house while Ben slept. Last night I watched them by myself while both boys slept. With the Ben and Andy's mom coming in yesterday late afternoon, we couldn't make it to any of the BBQs we were invited to (thank you for the invites!), so we had a quiet afternoon and early bedtimes for everyone but me. A highlight was our requisite trip to Handel's Ice cream - the new chocolate cake batter ice cream is divine. This isn't to sound self-pitying, it just seems that in recent years, the Fourth of July has turned out much like New Year's Eve: A holiday that you expect to do something grand and exciting but often turns out to be anticlimatic. In the past ten years, only one Fourth has been truly memorable.

It was the summer of 1999. I was working as a river guide in Jackson Hole, WY, and the tradition there was for the city to to do a huge fireworks display off the slopes of Snow King ski resort. All of us guides piled in to the big old school bus we used to haul the Boy Scouts to to the drop-off points of our river excursions and took our snacks, blankets, books, etc. to stake out our claim on the grass at the bottom of the ski hill. We spent a very enjoyable afternoon and evening hanging out, lauging, eating, and fooling around waiting for the extravaganza to start. And what a show it was. In my memory, the fireworks seemed to go on forever. Laying on my back in the warm summer night with lights blazing overhead, it was a little piece of heaven.

I love fireworks and hope that next year we will have a memorable Fourth. A fun BBQ topped off with everyone staying up late enough to watch the show. Lots of watermelon and ice cream and smiles all around.

Footloose and Fancy Free

And so it begins...Our first kid-free week in a long while. We spent last week in Utah with our families and Andy's parents offered to keep Ben for an extra week so they could spend some more quality time with him and spoil him rotten, as any good grandparents would do. I couldn't say yes fast enough when Annette posed the idea, but leaving was harder than I expected. We left last Saturday and I couldn't give him enough hugs before we left. Once we got in the car to drive to the airport, I started crying.

But now that we're here and have talked to Ben on the phone enough to know that he doesn't miss us at all (they went to Wheeler Farm and saw Wall*E yesterday and are going to the zoo today), it's much easier.

So then on to the next question: What to do for an entire week? At first I was bummed that Andy had to go back to work (I thought we should head to an exotic locale), but now I'm glad that I can catch up on projects that I've been meaning to do, but haven't had the time. Plus, we're going to explore Columbus like visitors and see all the things you can't quite do with an energetic toddler.

On my list: Run errands to my heart's content interspersed with some fun shopping, check out a few fabulous books on tape to listen to while I do unexciting cleaning projects (wash the baseboards, mop the floors, clean the cupboards, and shampoo our carpets), head back to Ikea to return items that didn't work, take long walks with Andy, watch movies together, go out for dinner once, attend the temple, read to my heart's content (at least one day spent on a blanket in the park), organize Ben's clothes/books/toys, go to some art museums, and see the Jack Nicklaus golf museum (Andy's choice). Any other ideas?

What would you do with a kid-free week?

Below are pictures of the few times in the past three years we have been without Ben for an extended period of time.
Nine months pregnant and 100+ degrees in Arizona= Looking like crapola.Our trip to Carmel, CA with Andy's parents before Ben was born. Heaven on earth for Andy because in the background is Pebble Beach Golf Course, a.k.a. Golfing Mecca.
Our graduation trip last year to Hawaii with our friends Mandy and Steve Morgan.