Saturday, February 26, 2011

Samoan Slap Dance

This is the Samoan Slap Dance that we performed at our ward Luau. We were taught by a real live Samoan (he's the one playing the drum in the back). I'm in the middle in the back row - you know, the Samoan-looking one. Oh, and the guy to my left is a 14 year-old I teach on Sundays. I look tiny next to him.
You can periodically hear some yelling in the background (you know, one of those Polynesian yells). One of the two people doing those was Talyn. She didn't even sound palagi.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Sleeping Beauty

Alena can talk for hours. I'm serious. Hours. Additionally, she's really good at recognizing when I'm just "uh huh'ing" her. Sometimes I turn on the television to give myself a break from the taxing job of trying to understand what she's talking about. (She has good communication skills, but she's still 3.) It works for about 15 minutes, at which point she runs every 2 or 3 minutes from the television room to where ever I'm taking my listening break to give me a play-by-play of the show she's watching and requires me to respond with enthusiasm and creativity. Not to mention that she doesn't wait to start talking until she has gotten to the same room as me, nor does she stop running when she gets to me. She starts talking at the television and continues to run around me in circles as she talks. As you can imagine this makes my job of understanding what she's saying, and responding with enthusiasm and creativity very difficult. On the other hand, from time to time I am rewarded with one of those happy moments of motherhood where you realize once again that your kids are really cute. Like today when Alena said as she ran around my chair in the office "(Something unintelligible from the other room)...just like sometimes when Daddy's asleep I wake him up with a kiss!"

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Truths of motherhood #17

It will be only hours after you finally get around to mopping the floor that your one-year-old will smash a dozen eggs on it.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Gong Hei Fat Choy

The Year of the Rabbit is here, and for the first time ever, we have pulled out all of the stops in celebrating the New Year. Our tardy New Year's letter conveniently became a timely Chinese New Year's letter, which highlights the events of 2010 for our family. For those who have seen this before, note that this is an updated version - we had completely forgotten about an important event for Kevin! (thanks, Justin Wheeler) Let us know in the comments if you can identify what that is.

As for our dinner, we had a 5-course meal:
  • Spring rolls with Thai chili sauce
  • Wintermelon soup with pork & Chinese mushrooms
  • Braised 5-spice chicken gizzards
  • Broiled croaker with ginger and scallions
  • Peanut-filled dumplings in a light syrup
Not the most traditional meal for Chinese New Year, but it was delicious!

Tuesday, February 1, 2011


Yesterday I found myself searching for Community Sponsored Agriculture in my area. As I considered what I was doing my mouth slowly started to open until it was gaping with the realization that somewhere along the line I turned into a hippie. I'm not sure when it happened, or how really. I run on a treadmill indoors rather than in nature, but I do it barefoot. I consider myself a modest person and am always fully clothed, but I'm taking my 5th belly dancing class. I still place myself in the center of the conservative half of the political spectrum, but I am also seriously considering a home birth for my next *baby. I am a firm believer in capitalism, and I like to see people get rich rather than begrudge them the fruits of their labors, but I also keep trying to grow a garden even in my rental home. I think that global warming, whether based on solid or biased science, is mainly a political tool used by people to get stuff they want entirely unrelated to the environment, but I just placed an order for a cloth diaper trial. So what d0es that make me? A right-wing nut or an environmentalist crazy? Perhaps it just makes me well rounded. One can only hope. I've chosen not to be concerned until I start weaving my own cloth diapers out of hemp I grew in my back yard.

*This is not an announcement