Thankful...

...for an especially lovely, long weekend in Denver with my in-laws and beloved girlfriends.

The boys savored it too; in fact, it was the first year they could thoughtfully answer the question, "What are you thankful for this year?" (Ben: "Roman." "Our house." Roman: "Toys." "The toilet.")

And, while I don't think anyone asked me what I'm thankful for this year (family, friends, health and Big House Red by the box), the weekend's festivities only added to my mental list.

So, in no particular order, I'm thankful...

...that Ben still believes the Pilgrims and Indians were pals (seriously, they still teach that!)...

...for my high-altitude Turkey Trotting partner...

...that I have a new, future sister-in-law...

...for vegetarianism (that was the turkey talking; you're welcome, turkey)...

...that Roman's face didn't actually melt off, despite appearances...

...for these handsome Scognamillo men (and further proof that group pictures are impossible)...

...for friends willing to drive a long way for a short visit...

...and that the holidays aren't over. What can I say? I'm a sap.

This blows.

I'm referring to this million-mile per hour Wichita wind, of course...and its assault on my 30-something-pound child.  

Laugh Lines

I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be the one barfing on the night of my birthday, but in one of the many "wow, how birthdays have changed" moments from yesterday (my 35th), sweet Roman was the sick one.

Poor guy is fine now - just one of those mysterious, 2 a.m. throw-ups - and we're on load five of bed linen laundry (his and ours).

But, for that reason and a million others, my birthday has me reflecting. On my reflection, sure (and my hard-earned laugh lines), but mostly on how I still feel 19, but do so many things that would have mortified my 19-year-old self.

Take for example, my absolute perfect birthday yesterday: I woke up, removed my Breathe Right strip, had my first eggnog latte of the season, shopped with Roman, did some Christmas decorating, chatted with family, then remained sober until after dark. (And after the kids were in bed, thankyouverymuch.) Polished off the night with a movie, Japanese take-out and Rombauer Chard. Perfect-o.

So maybe my birthday isn't the best example (save for the BR strip), but as 35 crept closer and then pounced, I adopted some not-so-youthful habits. You know...

• Listening to soft rock music stations. Adult contemporary. Easy listening. Whatever you want to call it, it's the only place where you get Wilson Philips, Dave Mathews, U2 and ABBA. Hard to beat.
• Griping, "who would call so late?" if my phone rings after 8. Actually, 7.
• Wearing leisure wear to pick up Ben and Roman from school.
• Talking about the weather.
• Talking about anything whatsoever to uninterested customer service people.
• Did I mention the Breathe Right strip?!

The list goes on, but...well I don't want to bore you like I bore those dear, trapped check-out clerks.

Still, all of that (and much more) considered, I'll take 35 over 19 any day. It's a good life; I guess that's why I hate to see the numbers tick higher.

Anyway, I'll wrap up these b'day ramblings. Roman's healthy and holding down food; we had a fun, funny day; and I guess my resolution is to follow the lead of this wise birthday card lady:

Rattled

Okay, I wasn't going to write about the earthquake because...well, how predictable, right?

"California girl in Midwest surprised by a (minor) earthquake; insists on making big deal of it."

But then, there was another one. And then another. Three in three days.

What's going on down there, Oklahoma?! I lived 18 years in California without being rattled once! (Although, California, you gave it your best with Loma Prieta and Northridge. I just wasn't very perceptive in my early years.)

Of course, we're all fine. It jostled Anthony the most; he said it sounded like people were running up our stairs. The boys, with wide, inquisitive eyes as Anthony explained it, blamed it for their train track destruction (actual cause: my clumsiness).

But all is quiet in Oz on day four. Which reminds me..isn't tornado season just around the corner?

 

Photo borrowed from my good friend Ken.

Where Were Me and Ben?

We're mid-way through our week-long celebration of Roman's birthday (these kids aren't spoiled; we just like to elongate the cupcake-eating window), and I guess the boys are feeling as nostalgic as I am.

Okay, not really, but in response to Roman's question "Where were me and Ben?" (more on that later), Birthday Boy and I went looking through the old photo archives. Here are just a few quick favorites:

Ben and Roman meet on Roman's Day 1:

Roman flexing his baby muscles at two months:

Almost 1, enjoying the zoo:

Just turned 2:

And finally, last year, enjoying the zoo before his 3rd birthday:

Now, the "Where were me and Ben?" story that led us down memory lane...

Roman saw this picture, which is on our dresser:

It's me and Anthony a few months after we met in 2004. We were on the most incredibly relaxing, beautiful, DINK trip to Ixtapa, Mexico. We were tan, well-rested and willing to be photographed in our bathing suits. Ah, sweet nostalgia.

Upon seeing it, Roman asked, "Where were me and Ben?"

I said, "Oh, that was before we had you and Benny."

Obviously a tough concept to grasp, Roman followed with silence. Then: "Were we in the car?"

Roaming Roman

Instead of his usual 2 a.m. arrival in our bed, Roman roamed into Ben's bed, where they both slept cozily through the night.

  

Rollin' the Dice

I like a good gamble, so twice this week I've dined at Wasabi, the new sushi place in town. 

That's right...sushi in the Midwest, a serious roll of the digestive dice.

But it came highly recommended from my friend Rebecca, chef and most trusted source on food. We went last week to begrudgingly mark her upcoming move from Wichita, and it was so delish that I returned with Anthony and the boys last night. 

And what's not to love: quick, kind service, tasty food, unbeatable prices ($3.00 for a beautiful, crunchy, creamy veggie roll. Three dollars!), and...well, 18 hours later and still no food poisoning. 

Jackpot!

See, I've read that Wichita ranks second (behind Dallas) in restaurants per capita, but it's all BBQ, fried chicken and Applebee's...a crappy food trifecta. So Wasabi, I thank you for bringing quality and a little culture to my city.

Also, thanks for letting us linger at the table while Roman learned to use chopsticks....

 

...then chopstick-ed himself right to sleep.