Allen Saloon

For Christmas, somebody got a special surprise. But let's back up.

A week before Christmas we hosted our annual office party, where we had a fondue dinner. Of course, everybody knows the finest cheese fondues are made with alcoholic beverages, white wine and beer, for instance. Well, the extra wine's an easy one to get rid of since I cook with wine all the time. The beer, on the other hand, looks gross, smells gross and is good for nothing but cheddar fondue and catching slugs. Maybe I'm just not creative enough...but Mikey is.

Walking into the kitchen Christmas night, I spot Seamus the Cat staggering around on the table, and go to slap him off when Michael cautions me to "be nice to him, he may not exactly know what he's doing." Then I spot the bowl on the floor half-full of smelly browinsh brew. With a wicked grin he says, "It's his special Christmas surprise."

Merry Christmas

While flipping through a book on Norman Rockwell we came across this festive little painting. Thought we'd pass it on with our best wishes for you and your families!

And, of course, Christmas just wouldn't be Christmas without Michael's annual family poem...

Merry Christmas to you all! Love, the Allens

Our thanks to Norman Rockwell for the painting, which we thoroughly enjoyed butchering. And thanks, Keri, for helping me!

Teeth, chapter 2

This is what I heard from the nursery tonight as I changed a nasty:

"Dad, look how loose it is."

"Mmm, let's see..."

"Ooow!"

"Oh, what's that on the floor?"

Screaming and yelling and general congratulations again for the second time in one week. Isaac's definitely catching up to his friend Ethan, who is the envy of all second graders because he has lost 9 teeth already. (Never mind that they were pulled by a dentist to curb the hoof-rot he was cultivating in his mouth. Nobody really cares about those details.)

My favorite is the faint whistle he makes now when he speaks--like the beaver on The Lady and the Tramp. Below is the envelope containing his tooth, which he intends to put under his pillow for the Tooth Fairy.

I asked him why he wanted to keep his tooth. "Because it would be the perfect thing to put on the end of a spear. It's pretty sharp, you know."

The Pinenut Harvester

By popular demand I've recorded Isaac doing his squirrel call, which is apparently a prerequisite for his illustrious future career as pinenut harvester.
(See the post When I Grow Up for orientation.)

Chef Mikey Robideaux's Christmas Gift to You!

It's been too long since renowned cajun chef Mikey Robideaux has delighted us with his recipes. He comes to you now live from the dismal kitchen of the Allen family to share a little known secret that is GUARANTEED to change your life, and certainly your Christmas! "No need to plan ahead to enjoy the fresh home-cooked rolls your whole family looks forward to. Just give yourself 30 minutes! This roll recipe came from my grandma (or actually a friend, but whatever) and is so easy and fast even a baking moron can't mess it up. That's why I've recommended it to Mrs. Allen."

Quick Rolls (makes a dozen)

prep time 30 mins.

1 c + 2 T warm water

2 T yeast

1/4 c sugar

1 egg

1 t salt

1/3 c oil

3 1/2 c flour

Add sugar and yeast to warm water. Set aside until double in bulk (10 mins. or so). Add oil, egg, salt and 1 c flour. Mix, then continue to add rest of flour. Knead 5 mins. or until smooth. Shape into rolls (any shape you like) and let rise 10 mins. Bake 10-12 mins @ 350.

Merry Christmas and bon appetit!

Problem Solved

Come to think of it, Meredith, I'm pretty sure that stylist was a terrorist, destroying the happiness and security of innocent Americans one haircut at a time. And Kathryn, yes, I do have a mullet wig exactly like that haircut. Now it can be a joke again...

(Please excuse the pictures--Megs did her best. You get the idea.) As of yesterday, Locks of Love is one long pony tail richer (inspired by Andy Atwood during the dental school days), and I'm free of the mullet! My neck is cold now, but it's the lesser of the evils. Okay. No more hair posts.

Teeth

Poor little Isaac has felt the second grade version of emasculation this last year as he's watched all his friends loosing teeth. But not him. People were starting to talk... However, last night he and Michael spent some serious time in the bathroom and this session finally produced results! This boy, who's been left off the tooth graph every year because of his inability to loose teeth, has finally arrived!
After a few minute's celebration, Isaac happened to see the bloody tissue staunching his wound. He went pure white, began swaying and knocking into walls, so Michael had him sit down, head between knees.

Still feeling queasy.

Recovered, and elated again!

This was definitely a family affair, complete with cheering and predictions regarding the Tooth Fairy's generosity. Michael educated the kids on the anatomy of a tooth. Who knew they were so interesting!

Hair Question

Could somebody please tell me why I seem to provoke in all hair dressers this undeniable temptation to cut my hair like a nasty 80's rock star? I don't get it. Is it the heavy black eyeliner that throws them off? Could it be the microphone hanging out my back pocket? Or maybe I'm just not clear enough in my description of what I want and they've misconstrued it: "Could you please trim an inch or two off the bottom, some light layering with the shortest no shorter than my jawline. But whatever you do DON'T GIVE ME A SHAG! I HATE shag styles and I don't want to look like an 80's rock star. No mullets either, please."

Let's compare and contrast, shall we?

What can you do but curse? Several kind friends have tried to console me by saying that "it doesn't look so bad from the back." Nice. I'm thinking something drastic is going to have to happen. Either a dramatic change of career, or a dramatic change in style...

Thanksgiving, Or Something Like It

Thanksgiving found our little family participating in a long-held Allen family tradition of going elk hunting in the wilds of Eastern Oregon. Above is our cozy (or cramped, depending on people's moods) dwelling for the week, along with those of several other family members. The week consisted of lots of mud, freezing weather, happy children with wet pants, mud, broken heaters and flat tires, dead generators and dead animals hanging from trees, mud, and other such novelties. It was definitely a man's/child's paradise. Despite the relatively hellish circumstances for Mom, there were funny moments that dotted the bleak and muddy landscape. Let me tell you about a few.

I laughed the whole week after Michael came out one morning saying, "Did these pants shrink?" I turned around just in time to see him pulling some skin-tight jeans up over his thighs, trying desperately to wiggle his little beezer into the top. "Um, no Honey. Those are mine."

Jacob Dead-Eye had a particularly fun time playing endless games with cousins, shooting guns, and climbing so high up trees that Grandma got nervous. At one point after a dry day of elk hunting, Jake told me that, "it's okay if we don't catch an elk, there's plenty of catfish to eat in the pond." Then he and his cousins devoted the next 48 hours to breaking ice in a nasty pond nearby and fishing out half-frozen catfish. Those boys got pretty good at it too (and muddy!).

Isaac walked in to the trailer one afternoon and with all sincerity said, "Mom, do I have something on my face?" I burst into laughter, then cursed as I spent the next 20 minutes fiercely rubbing soot off every inch of him. The picture just doesn't do it justice.

The first elk was shot the first day we were there by Grandpa, the mighty hunter. This was a fascinating anatomy lesson for our kids as they watched the quartering and skinning of this huge animal. In the process the forelegs were cut off, and guess what happend to them.... Isaac. He had a leg in his hand for the next 6 days, showing people the tendon that peeked out and hid as the leg was bent and straightened, breaking ice with it, sword fighting, using it as poker for the fire, a walking stick when it was frozen in the mornings. I even saw him getting an itch on his back once. It completely grossed me out, and that, my friends, is saying something.

Clara was always present for the skinning and quartering of the elk, walking in circles to inspect the job, holding up skin when necessary, holding lights when it got dark, and offering tips here and there. One evening while Uncle Brian was skinning his elk, she announced informingly to all present that Uncle Brian would be trading in this skin at the love-maker's shop. "No dear, it's the glove makers. Don't make that mistake again, please."

William got the short end of the stick because his mother made sure that he, no matter what, got a nap each day. I'd lay by him until he fell asleep, then go about my business. But each time he'd wake up and find me not there, put on his hat and boots, go outside and tell everybody in accusing tones that his mom had lost him. Even if I was right outside the trailer door I'd get stink-eye for the next three hours for having "lost him."

Sweet baby James reached a landmark on this trip. He discovered how to walk just two days before we took off his cast. He especially enjoyed the thump his cast would make on the floor every other step. Then on Thanksgiving day, appropriately enough, we took it off, and the poor boy had to relearn all over again for the third time. Don't feel too badly for him though. He's made up for lost time, and I enjoyed the month off.

Michael likes to call me Annie Oakley. I don't know why. Probably because I can shoot mosquitoes out of the air with my BB gun.

The view outside our trailer and a little boy anxiously waiting for his clothes to dry.

Siblings to the rescue after baby took a plunge off the couch head first. They didn't leave him until he was giggling again.

The bon fire was a nightly ritual, and one the children heartily enjoyed. It was especially fun eating Thanksgiving dinner round a monstrous fire. And that dinner itself was superior in my humble opinion.

These socks were allowed to stay on inside because, sadly enough, they were considered very clean compared to their companions. Mud everywhere!

Auntie Anna and several of the gaggle of cousins going on a scouting excursion so we could "tell the dads where to go to find their elk." The kids looked for all sorts of elk sign and nearly burst with excitement at each discovery. Too bad it's not that much fun finding the neighbor's dog sign in our yard.

This trip was a good experience for me. It taught me to be more grateful for my many luxuries. So what am I thankful for? While my home's not necessarily palacial, it's bigger than 250 sq ft. I'm thankful that the heat works regularly. What more could a girl really want? In summary, a wonderful time was had by all for whom the trip was intended. And I am thankful to be home sleeping in my own bed...

Hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving day full of happiness and no mud!

When I Grow Up...

While taking Jacob to Scouts I asked each of the kids what they wanted to be when they grow up. I do this periodically because it changes frequently, and it always makes me laugh in that "these people are delightfully strange" sort of way. Here were tonight's answers:

Jacob: "You know what I want to be, Mom--a professional mascot (inspired by Matt Nelson's brother). Or if I can't do that because, let's face it, you only need so many mascots, then I want to be a veterinarian."

Isaac: "Well, I did want to be a garbage man, but not anymore. Now I want to be a pinenut harvester and I can call squirrels like Mr. Weathers (our house painter) taught me. [Proceeds with mad squirrel sounds.] Or maybe I could be someone who saves people's lives at the swimming pool...

Clara: "A kid protector. Like, if a little kid is lost I'll protect them and help them find their mom. I also want to fly airplanes."

William: "I'm going to be a lissard. I will be named Fire Pixie. Everybuddy will play with me or else I will be angry and I will nether, ether invite them to my berfthday party..."

Ode to Megsy

Clara Margaret (aka Meg, Meggy, Megsy, or simply Princess Margaret, as the sovereign herself occasionally requests) surprised me one morning with the fact that she could read. After some lengthy errands we were hunting for a suitable place to eat lunch.
Clara: “Why don’t we go to ‘Open’ for lunch?” (Pronounced ah-pen.)
“Open?” I said. “Where’s that?”
“Oh, they’re all over the place. There’s one there, and there…” pointing to stores as we passed. As I looked I realized they were all over the place: the car wash was open, the video store was open, the bank was open, etc. We finally decided on an Open that was associated with food.

I admire this little girl. She is a true tomboy, sweetly defined once as “she can rough and tumble with the best of them but wears a sundress like it's second nature.” One of my favorite stories is actually sort of creepy. I was napping one day, along with the rest of the family. I was in a half-sleep stupor when through the daze I heard clip, then a little raspy feminine voice murmur, “Oh, Mommy. You look soooo pretty…” Clip. I practically jumped from my bed to find a wide-eyed Princess Margaret sitting on my pillow with some large scissors and a small pile of long dark hair in her lap. Thankfully my hair was pretty layered then and Michael swore he couldn’t see any holes, that he wasn’t just preserving the life of his only daughter.Meg is the only child I’ve ever had a clear and obvious spiritual prompting on behalf of. I’ve had impressions with the others, to ask a question or to say something, or give someone a hug instead of time-out, etc., but with this one it was obvious. I was stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce for dinner one warm evening in Texas when I had a picture in my mind of Clara falling off the top of our shed roof (15-20 ft. high, concrete below). Interesting, I thought, since she’s in there watching football with Michael and the boys. Thought I’d check anyhow. Of course, she wasn’t watching football, so I ran outside to find little naked, diapered 2 yr. old Meg scaling the fence with one precarious foot on the roof of the shed. Close call. All sets of this girl’s guardian angels are in full swing all the time I’m fairly sure.
Once I called Clara "Muffin" (Michael’s nickname for her). “Um, Mom, could you please not call me that?”
“Why not? Your daddy does.”
“Yes,” she explained patiently, “but he doesn’t make me think he wants to eat me.” I guess one must have a certain degree of instinctual self-preservation when they live in a little pink cream puff body, with honey hair, strawberry lips and blueberry ice eyes. I had to laugh. (And Michael’s still the only one allowed to call her Muffin.)
It suffices to say, I love this daughter of mine. She causes me fits sometimes, and it was clear from minute three after her birth she was going to be our hardest child (this premonition has proven true). But she creates equal parts joy in our family. I hope I can help her decide to be a strong, intelligent, virtuous woman someday. Someday, but today we’ll play with her pet frogs. Below, at swimming lessons just after her 2nd birthday in TX. Watching her was sort of like watching ducklings jump out of their treetop nest. Have you seen that? Well, there's a taste of Clara Margaret!

The Last Laugh

Somebody thought it would be funny to draw a big red wound on his neck and lay in the dark hallway as if he were dead to scare his siblings who were obediently getting ready for bed.

Only problem is #1. it didn't work, they just laughed and stepped on him, and #2. he drew it with a red Sharpie. Michael came up later and found Isaac frantically scrubbing his neck to get rid of the red to no avail.

When he came home from school the next day I asked Isaac what people said about it. "Oh, they'd just ask me what happened to my neck."

"And what did you say?"

"Oh, I'd just tell them I had poison oak."

Wamic, Oregon

Not so long ago, in a galaxy not so far away, a mother decided it was time to take a break from the nonsense of daily grind, and escape into nature. She loaded up her children (dad sadly couldn't come), called school and said they weren't coming, and headed for the far side of Mt. Hood to a little known haven called Wamic. She didn't know exactly what they would find, but was certain it wouldn't have anything to do with Primary or homework. And she anticipated the wholesome musk of horses, the cool skin of little frogs, good company of family, and nighttime skies filled with stars. They were off!

Each day was so much fun the kids crashed before their heads hit the pillows. Isaac even fell asleep on Will's hand this time.

Grandma Mikkelsen took the kids on a death-defying truck ride. They all got to pile in back.

Elizabeth and her baby Scarlett visited for a day. What fun! There's my brother Matt who snuck in the picture behind us. He's always a fun friend for my boys. This really isn't a great picture of any one of us, so I'm wondering why I included it...

Meet Norman. Big Norman.

Miriam, John (good family friend and owner of the ranch) and I went for a long ride in the wilds of Wamic. It was glorious to be on a horse again, even if his name was Norman. Above Miriam and I are parked momentarily beside a stream. Early the next day we took the kids on a long exploration of the stream and a waterfall several acres up. Miriam has those pictures though, so I'll post them when I get them. Oodles of kids, frogs, stick wars, and a snake or two. One of the boys even found a long forgotten hand scythe. Clara took that as proof that pirates had once inhabited that bend in the creek.

During our ride we came to the Cliffs of Insanity. Where's Andre the Giant when I need him? Where's anybody--my sister was no good to me...

...she was roadkill. Can you see the river and trees below? It was a breathtaking view.

Clara, meeting her brand new cousin Esme for the first time. Wish I had a better picture because it was a sweet meeting.

Isaac completely in his element. He's our star creature catcher and found something alive for nearly everybody to keep. We came back with our share of pets, almost all caught by Isaac.

L to R: Ava, Elena, Grace, Clara. That combo equals trouble!

James planting a nice slimey one! After kisses he always says, "Day doo!"

Dinner over (and in) the campfire. The kids came back completely covered in dust and soot, and since we didn't have water at night they pretty much got to sleep in it. I think that fact alone made this adventure all the better.

One of my favorite parts of our little escape was riding with Jacob. After not too much trial and error he got pretty handy with Reno and we had a wonderful time.

Riding lessons for Will. After Jake's and my ride Clara got up behind him, and Isaac took my horse. That was a rewarding moment watching my three oldest ride off on their own little adventure. It took me back to my childhood when we kids would take off on a horse and not come back until we were hungry. A child's paradise. Makes me wonder what I'm doing wasting precious time living in a neighborhood (even though I do love my house and neighborhood). Some day we'll be able to save up enough to buy a piece of land and let our kids grow up with the smell of horses and farm life.

Gracie and Baby Grey cuddle up during a truck ride back to the cabin.

A view of Wamic from a ridge on horseback. It reminded me of why fall is such a favorite season. Thank you, Mom and Miriam especially, for organizing this little trip. And thank you, Bethany, Kathryn and Lizzie, for driving all that way just to see us! And a special thank you to John, for being so gracious with your property and horses and time. Here's the link to my sister Miriam's pictures and version of events.