Tag Archives: Wenatchee

May 13, 2012 · 7:53 pm

Evolution of a White Trash Garden

 

Do you guys remember my original White Trash Garden?  When we first moved into our apartment, we thought we’d only be here for one year. MAX. I was dreaming of giant raised bed vegetable gardens, but decided to make do with the materials (garbage) and space (a paved carport) we had on hand during our one short year in the ghetto.

The original White Trash Garden, sharing a small strip of the carport with my motorcycle.

Fast forward four years and….we’re still here. My garden remains a little trashy – but it’s somewhat evolved. Just like me.  I still drink wine out of the box, but now I totally use a glass.  My garden is still most comfortable with a Rainier beer in its hand, but it’s now contained in an old garden cart and can be moved into the sun during the day.

Behold the evolution!

The evolved White Trash Garden, now available for walks on the beach and drive-thru dining.

Herbs, peppers, spinach, lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, cabbage, broccoli, peas and some unknowns (I planted some from seeds and sort of forgot what they were. Luckily, I love surprises).

The floor of the garden cart is grated (like the sides). I covered the bottom and sides with weed fabric, and attached it with zip ties. There are about 3-4 inches of small rock in the bottom of the cart to help with drainage and the rest is filled with potting soil.

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May 4, 2012 · 2:33 pm

32 Months of Crazy up in Here!

Little Bear,

Good grief, kid! Do you ever stop talking, flirting, destructing, licking, kicking, or laughing maniacally?  In a word, you are VIGOROUS. You play vigorously, you eat vigorously, you hug vigorously, and I swear you even make sleeping look like a full-contact sport.

You are now 32 months old, and 32 forms of awesomeness.

This past month has been C-R-A-Z-Y.  We went skiing. We went logging. You were in the world-famous Swallowfest parade.  We decorated Easter eggs, got all fancy for Easter service and participated in a couple of egg hunts. You went mountain biking for the first time. You started some serious potty training (Yay! I get to talk about pee and poop on my blog! Who am I kidding? I always talk about that sort of thing. BOOBIES!!)

The month got even crazier from there. On our way home from your Papa Bear and Nanny’s house, we hit a deer. No one was hurt, but it totaled the car. Now, when we get in the car you keep saying, “Deer should stay off the road. Deer stay in the DIRT!”  And I totally agree.  Hey deer, for the love of all things good…please stay in the dirt!

A few days later, your dad went down on his motorcycle. Again, we were very blessed, and he was ok. It was a good wake-up call for all of us. I was thinking Daddy was all magical and stuff for having never gone down in his many, many years of riding. It happens. This is why we wear helmets, SON. So quit whining and put on the proper gear when you ride your bike.

That same day, we bought a new car and the next day your daddy and I left for Mexico on a dive trip. PHEW! On the road to relaxation. Except…your mama has some anxiety issues. And leaving you behind for a week just about did me in.

Little Bear, you OWN me.

I feel naked when you’re not with me, and there’s an ache in my heart. Don’t get me wrong, we still had a blast. But we were constantly thinking about you, talking about you, showing everyone pictures and videos of you until they threatened to throw my camera in the ocean.

Your dad and I – two painfully frugal people – paid $5/minute to call you from Mexico. MORE THAN ONCE. Dude, if that isn’t a show of Crazy Love, nothin’ is ;)

When you say things like “Look at the beautiful trees, Mama. I just want to HUG them,” I feel like I have won in the game of life. When we get to daycare earlier than usual, and there isn’t the usual fanfare of tiny friends hugging you, helping you with your coat and shouting “Wopah’s here! Wopah’s here!” you look at me questioningly, and ask “Where my kids?” as if you’re The Fonz. It makes me laugh. I can give you a topic and you will make up a song about it. When I call you dude, or buddy, you say “No. I’m Mama’s BABY!” It melts my heart to hear that coming from my stretched out, skinned kneed, constantly growing boy.

You will always be my baby.

Little Bear, you make every day an adventure and you keep me my toes by switching back and forth between a sweet little dimpled cherub to a midget terrorist at record speed. There are very few things that make me happier than hearing you say “I love you, mama” in your sweet little voice, or hearing your laugh when I’m tickling or teasing you. You are the salve to my frazzled nerves. Which is weird because you’re also the cause of those frazzled nerves…but I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

I’m proud of you beyond measure and I love you to the moon and back, Roper.

Love,

Your Mama

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April 6, 2012 · 9:20 am

We. Must. WIN.

You guys, no one should subject themselves to this kind of humiliation without WINNING. Have you seen the video? More importantly, have you “liked” the video? If you have no idea what I’m talking about, let me set the scene. It started with this DLV Best Bad Idea:

Enter a catwoman suit, a blue man suit, a derby girl outfit, the freakin’ rocking-est afro you’ve ever seen, and four crazy friends – none of whom can sing. TA DA!  We have ourselves a hilarious video.

Why? Because we want to win four front row tickets to Kelly Clarkson AND meet her. WE MUST WIN. This video will haunt us the rest of our lives so we’d like to actually have something to show for the humiliation it’s caused.

Here’s the deal – Facebook is weird. The best (only) was to “like” and share the video and have it count toward the contest is to use the exact link listed below. Please click on it, like it, and then either share this blog or cut and paste this exact link and share it via Facebook, Twitter, email, WHATEVER.

Here’s the video:

https://www.facebook.com/towntoyota/posts/140328929429897

Funny, right? Embarrassing? A little unfortunate, but you know you wished you had crazy friends who would throw their pride (and professional reputation) out the window to participate in something like this. We attracted quite a crowd while filming…

The contest ends tomorrow (Saturday) midday and we are trailing behind the leaders by quite a bit. You guys, we need people to be voting their faces right off. Nobody should have to put themselves through this humiliation without winning. And you KNOW that if (ahem…..when) we get the chance to meet Kelly Clarkson, we’ll do something embarrassing and outrageous there too. So you’re insuring future entertainment for yourself.

So please, “like” the video, and then share the link as if your life depends on it. You will receive my undying gratitude and truckloads of good karma in return. And I will vote for whatever stupid contest you enter in the future. THANK YOU!

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December 6, 2011 · 5:36 pm

NaNoWriNOOOOO!

Well, that went to hell at an alarming rate. Remember that post about NaNoWriMo? Yeah, me too. Despite my best efforts to forget it.

The 50,000 words in a month didn’t happen. I wrote 25,000 words in half a month and then my brain exploded. It took the next two weeks to clean it up. The stains in the carpet were terrible.

Seriously, who chooses NOVEMBER for this kind of torture? Aren’t the holidays stressful enough?

I started November on a new drug for Fibromyalgia. In higher doses it’s used for heroin addiction. BONUS! I can take care of that problem, too. Two birds with one stone! I’m KIDDING…but not too much because I know heroin is a very serious problem. Please do not send hate mail about me being insensitive.

One side effect of the new drug is insomnia. Which goes along nicely with my already well-established insomnia. As it turns out, a double-dose of insomnia contributes largely to 2am panic attacks. PARTY AT THE STEERES! But, it reduces my pain dramatically, so I will continue playing Bejeweled in the middle of the night, while my heart beats out of my chest. But I won’t be in as much pain.

So, no sleep. Then the Little Man gets terribly ill and has to be rushed to the ER. And then I get sick. Nobody is happy, but there’s still a whole wall of words that need to be written. Who could I turn to?

As a stay-at-home working mom, I feel a little isolated. The working moms shun me because I’m sitting at home eating bonbons, and the stay-at-home moms shun me because I’m working and therefore can’t make the 7.34 playdates per week, and I’m obviously neglecting my child.

Little do they know, I’m doing both – eating bonbons AND neglecting my child. Mwahahahaaa!

Did I mention that all of my Christmas shopping and prep work in November because I work at my parents’ Christmas Tree Farm on the weekends between Thanksgiving and Christmas? It’s great fun (seriously, check it out), but cuts into my typical weekend activities like showering, laundry and actually speaking to my spouse in person.

Oh, and in an effort to alleviate my Fibromyalgia symptoms, I had the most ridiculous dietary restriction ever. FINE, take away my dairy, wheat, rye, barley, legumes, corn, and some other stuff I can’t even remember. But NO ALCOHOL?  On top of NO HEROIN? Have you met my son?

Unacceptable.

I coped by taking on more work. I like working. I like feeling productive. It’s my therapy…and the reason I need therapy. So I’m also on the board of a non-profit. And in a writing group.  And an artist’s group. I’m not sure how I expected this to end in any way other than a massive brain explosion.

But, wait, there’s more! On top of all of that we’re STILL BUILDING A HOUSE. Yep, the same house we’ve been working towards for seven years. It’s going to be amazing when it’s done, but right now I can’t bring myself to type about it.

So, my brain exploded.

I’m waiting for it to grow back. They’re like lizards that can regrow appendages, right? Once it does grow back, I will resume the NaNoWriMo challenge.

To all of my supporters and to those who have talked me off the ledge a time or two, I thank you. And I lift a glass of alcohol in your honor. What? December is a new month, and the theme is “whatever it takes.” Cheers!

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November 4, 2011 · 4:46 pm

26 Months

Dear Roper,

You are now twenty-six months old and you are at least twenty-six kinds of awesome. This past month has been a blast. You’re good company, Little Bear.

However, your mama is in the middle of her NaNoWriMo project and is a little short for time. As in, I’ve had to go to the bathroom for the past five hours, but a break hasn’t presented itself. I’m going to start wearing your diapers soon.

I hope your future classmates aren’t reading this.

So…this will be an hasty and abbreviated letter. A shame, because it was such a big month filled with fun activities.

You: wake up full of awesome every day, started riding your bike and adore it, sometimes fall asleep with your helmet on, still wear your pumpkin Halloween costume every day, think the answer to everything is “fire truck!”, miss The Outlaws who went back to California for the winter, point and say “oh, look at that!” over and over as clear as a bell, can jump off of things backwards, show no intention of potty training even though you love sitting on the potty, would be happy riding around the property on the tractor for hours, learned how to put the tractor in gear (yikes!), got to “help” your daddy hunt during The Great Steere Hunt, have three pairs of Carharts that you love to wear because you look like Daddy, keep yourself entertained at the property by “painting” with a dry paint brush, playing with trucks, trying to start the tractor and jumping over rocks, decorated your first pumpkin, fell in love with karaoke, and have decided that you no longer need naps (you do).

Your Daddy: is indescribably proud of you for learning to ride your bike so well and so fast, likes to see you in your Carharts and have you up at the property helping him, misses you all day at work, wants to crawl into your crib with you when we check in on you at night, is chomping at the bit to buy you a dirt bike, and hopes you don’t get too tall (I don’t know – I think he’s bummed that I sullied the gene pool with so much Cooper-ness. Mwahahahaaaa!).

Your Mama: didn’t know it was possible to love you this much, adores listening to the baby monitor as you sing “happy birthday” to your trucks, boots, books, and doggies in the morning, is thrilled with your ability to entertain yourself, is exhausted from trying to keep you alive, enjoys your company immensely, can’t stop kissing those beautiful lips, and takes joy in every little adventure we go on.

Little Bear, I hope you understand that I would much rather spend my limited free time playing with you instead of writing to you this month.  Time with you is far more valuable than time with my computer, so let’s go play!

Love,

Your Mama

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October 13, 2011 · 1:21 pm

New Protocol

I’ve decided that the word “protocol” in the medical field is synonymous to “outrageously expensive” and “more difficult than running a marathon upon implementation”.  I’m going to start using the term as such.

Woah, Eloise! That new hip is totally PROTOCOL!

So, a little over a week ago I started a new protocol for fibromyalgia. For those of you unfamiliar with this blog, I have ridiculously poor health for an active and, ahem, YOUNG person. I am on a mission to improve it.

This new plan involves a super-strict elimination diet, buckets of supplements, new meds and physical therapy. Oh, and a few lifestyle changes. As in…quit trying to work ridiculous hours while caring for a maniacal two-year-old, writing a novel, building a house and fighting debilitating health issues, YOU MORON.

So I cut the dairy, beef, wheat, oats, rye, barley, sugars, majority of fruits, artificial sweeteners and alcohol.  I reduced my chicken and egg intake. They let me keep the caffeine for now (you lucky bastards). Someone must have known that they’d be held accountable for a homicide if they took that away immediately. WE HAVE GUNS IN OUR HOUSE, PEOPLE.

I take so many supplements in the morning, I think half of my daily caloric intake is in pill form. Please note, pills are not nearly as delicious as a doughnut. Plus, I’m taking the new meds and doing my exercises and basically being a Very Good Girl. Even with ice cream, pizza and wine in the house. Ice cream! Pizza! Wine!

Where the hell is my trophy?!

You guys, Tuesday was my trophy. Although I wasn’t farting sparkles and dancing in glee – I felt better. I didn’t use any anti-inflammatories, pain killers or muscle relaxants. I didn’t even realize it until the next day, but then the awesomeness hit me.

So THAT’S what it’s like to be normal!

But then…I went to physical therapy, aka Camp Awkward & Painful, where they tortured me and promised future pain. Leaving, I could tell my neck and shoulders were about to knot up. My shoulder was creeping up above my right ear and completely reducing the need for me to wear a Halloween outfit because I was shape shifting into a super awesome zombie. Hey y’all, FREE COSTUME!

I immediately had to eat a banana (GASP! The sugars!), and take ibuprofen and muscle relaxants.

But Tuesday – Tuesday was progress. And although it didn’t have quite the same comforting effect as a diet Coke, it’s something. I’ll hang on to that. In the meantime, can someone PLEASE eat a bag of candy corn for me while I eat this bowl of spinach?

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October 5, 2011 · 3:57 pm

25 and Live!

Dear Roper,

You are now 25 months old. In the real world (that strange place outside of this blog) I no longer have to refer to your age in months. I think that two years is the universal age when you can stop the “he’stwentymonthstwoweeksandthreedays” insanity.  We’ve graduated to half years now.  However, in this blog world, you will be 192 months old when you get your driver’s license.

Speaking of stats….you sir, are 31 pounds of Pure Awesomeness.

You get your concentration and good-natured attitude from your dad. But your personality, whooooo boy! Little Bear, you have my personality MULTIPLIED BY SEVENTEEN. And I hope you never learn to dampen that personality and enthusiasm just to fit in.

Your current exuberance is like me when I’m over-caffeinated, energized about a project and walking into Caffe Mela to get even more coffee. No filter, and everything is REALLY EXCITING. The people who run in to me then get the true Molly. I hope you remain unfiltered and true. You have an amazing spirit, a contagious grin and just being yourself is the way to go because you’re the best at being YOU.

Together, we’ll probably embarrass your dad a lot in the years to come. And it’s going to be AWESOME!

After much discussion and deliberation, we have decided that your personality – your MOJO if you will – may indeed be housed in your hair. So your dad and I have decided to hold off on cutting it. Yes, I put it in a ponytail and you looked like a darling little girl, but I didn’t care. Your dad didn’t even mind. Well, he cringed a bit but he didn’t go running for the scissors.

Your mojo is too important to just chop off. It lights up people’s live and I just can’t take that away from your fans. It’s like taking away Steven Tyler’s microphone scarves, Angus Young’s short pants, or Eddie Vedder’s red, black and white guitar.  NOT OK.

This past month you’ve spent a lot of time up at the property. You’re actually very helpful and have joined in the traditional family pastime of picking up rocks. Congratulations, you’re officially a Steere. You had a cool birthday party, played with friends, went to the fair and watched a Wenatchee Wild hockey game. You also can count to ten and freak me out by blurting out 7- to 8-word sentences.

When I drop you off at daycare on Mondays and Wednesdays, you march up the path ahead of me giving business-like waves to the other parents, as if you’re their boss and you’re heading in to check on their work. It makes me laugh every time.

Little Bear, you keep us laughing (and sometimes yelling) on a daily basis. We love you so much. It’s a blessing to watch you grow up and grow into that ginormous personality of yours. Each day is an incredible gift. Thank you.

Love,

Your Mama

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August 16, 2011 · 2:57 pm

Facebook Awesomeness

Disclaimer: This post may not make any sense because I’m watching Bachelor Pad while I write it. Because I OBVIOUSLY DON’T VALUE MY BRAIN. 

You guys, I’m on Facebook ALL DAY. It’s a huge part of my job. And for the most part, I love it. Mostly because of the mockability (I’m declaring that a word) of it all. There are certain things that people do on Facebook that entertain me to no end. Which doesn’t mean much because I’m easily entertained…but here are a few of my favorites:

Awkwardly cutting people out of profile pictures. All. Time. Favorite. Seriously, I should win some sort of award for resisting the urge to tag that random ear or arm in the edge of the photo where you cropped the owner out. What’s the deal? You’re mad at the person in the picture, but you looked really hot so you just HAD to make it your profile picture? Or was the other person so hot that they were making you look bad? Or was the other person holding a dildo while eating a cupcake? You see, I will make up a story in my mind that is more saucy than what’s actually going on.

Vaguebooking. This is a popular one. Why do people post intentionally vague status updates to prompt friends to ask you what’s going on? For example, “Going to the ER while on vacation wasn’t on the itinerary.” (OK, that’s actually a comment I would make…but hopefully only after I say something like “Roper has an ear infection.” You know, so people don’t think we’re dying.) The best is when people’s entire Facebook feed is alternating between vaguebooking and “look how awesome I am” posts. LOVE! How about you just post “I’m insecure and need you to tell me I’m awesome. Hourly.” Dude, I’m on Facebook ALL DAY. I will tell you you’re awesome. Hourly.

TMI: Before I even start in on this, I will fully admit that I’m the filterless friend that gives Too Much Information on occasion. Ok, on most occasions (see above dildo reference). But my kid’s poop is HILARIOUS. Your kid’s isn’t. I’m kidding! Sort of.

Online friendliness – in person awkwardness. I apparently love awkward situations because I think this one is awesome – it’s the person who fawns over you on Facebook, pressing the “like” button as if it’s a crack dispenser and LOL’ing all over the place. It’s nice on the ego and all, but when the same person hardly acknowledges you in real life or, even better, is a rude donkey to your face, it’s baffling. And I’m obsessed with baffling human behavior.  Just ask my husband. He has to listen to me dissect people’s every move. Why do you think she moved the salt shaker? I bet she’s angry with her sister.

Not responding. Guess what? This is social media, not a reader board announcing your activities. It’s also not your diary. But it does make me giggle when I see someone post their vaguebook status or “aren’t I awesome” post, get a ton of responses about ohmygodareyoudying or you’rethemostfabulouspersonI’veevermet that are met with…*crickets*  Oh, the awkward silence. If you’re begging for attention, at least thank your minions for providing it.

Why yes, I have done every single thing on this list. Which makes it EVEN MORE AWESOME.  Because we’re all delightfully human and Facebook gives us a daily slice of that. Sweet Fancy Moses, does it ever!

P.S. I’m sorry I haven’t been posting much recently. Here’s the deal – I have some douchebaggy first-world problems* that include things like too much work, too many activities and a really awesome family with whom I want to spend as much time as possible. And we’re building a house. Um…and I do things like waste 1.5 hours watching Bachelor Pad while writing snarky blog posts. I know, POOR ME, right?

It’s a good life.

*I’m pretty sure I owe Nanea Hoffman royalties for the use of that phrase.

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