Boreal Witch

**Warning: this blog entry contains high levels of nerdiness. If you aren't a gamer, you probably won't understand some of it or even care. All I can say is it's a good thing I'm a female gamer because geeky is the new sexy. Long live Felicia Day!**

For Christmas, my sister Blythe got us the game Star Wars: The Old Republic (SWTOR), a MMORPG put out by BioWare, as well as a subscription for several months. We didn't start playing right away because we had company for a whole month very soon after Christmas and didn't want to waste our subscription. Unfortunately for Blythe, she had to hear, "When are Bobbi and Robinson going to play?" from Dustun, her boyfriend, continuously. She's probably still hearing it because our character on his server is no where near the level that Dustun's character is probably at. Which just means we'll have to play a lot to catch up. A lot.

My character is a plucky young Twi'lek smuggler named Tuki. She, kind of like the iconic Han Solo, is a scoundrel with a heart of gold. Except that she's not just into the credits. For most missions, she could care less about the money. She'll help people - especially the underdog - because it's the right thing to do.

Here's what I have for her backstory so far: Tuki was born and raised on Ryloth to merchant parents. She has an older sister and a younger brother. She started working with her parents when she was very young and loved interacting with all of the pilots and traders. They told her stories of their adventures and she dreamed of one day flying her own ship. When she was a teenager, she had a very brief affair with a fast-talking smuggler who broke her heart and because of that she loathes slimy playboys. She is grateful to have met that louse because he was the one who taught her how to shoot a blaster. She respects good fighters and people who stand up for their convictions, even if they don't always meld with hers. She has a quick wit and will not back down once she's sworn to do something.

Last night, thanks to Mark, one of Robinson's co-workers who also happens to be a SWTOR player, Robinson and I were able to play together on his work laptop on Mark's account. The Esseles mission was super tough (we died about five times trying to knock off one of the baddies), but fun. It was great being able to do heroic missions with someone I knew. I'm hoping that some of our other friends will be able to play soon or that we'll be able to meet up with Dustun and do a few quests with him. Playing with some of the other people on our server isn't that bad, but it's way more fun if you know someone.

Okay, I think I'm geeked out for now. I'm having a lot of fun with the game, even if it makes my nerd meter go up significantly.

Blessed be.

Balin's almost a year. He's crawling well and practically walking. If he could get past his psychological issues, he'd probably be bipedal by now. He's learning sign and already has about 5 words that he uses consistently under his belt. He's an excellent helper: he doesn't hesitate to put toys back in the toy boxes and baskets, although it doesn't seem to work for chores like loading the dishwasher. People comment on his gorgeous red hair. I suppose every baby has some feature people remark on. Arthur had his eyelashes, Balin has his hair. He eats like there's no tomorrow, though I can tell he's a bit pickier than Arthur.

Already people are asking me if we're going to have another, sometimes jokingly and sometimes not. I always say no, that we're not going to have another because I would go crazy. People laugh, but I don't think that they realize I really would go crazy.

I can't even imagine another pet, let alone another person in my tiny home. I can't imagine how many more times I would hear the word, "Mommy!" or how many times I have to say, "Damnit, leave your brother alone!" or "Can't I just have 5 minutes to myself?" One was easy. Two is difficult, but not impossible. When I think about how much more I would have to endure with three, I feel a panic attack coming on. Three seems way out of my league. Three seems like struggling in quicksand with a fifty-pound weight on my back. Some days I can barely survive with two...what makes people think I could handle 3?

Most people who ask are grandparents. They love grandkids because they don't have to raise them. They don't have to feed them, or clothe them. They don't even have to play with them if they don't want to. They don't have to carry them around for 40 weeks or give birth to them. They don't have to breastfeed them or satisfy their needs. They don't have to reason with them or convince them that mashed potatoes do not belong on walls (or hair or clothes or their brother). Granted, there are many grandparents who raise their grandkids and become parents all over again. They are the exception. I'm sure if they had a choice they would rather spend their retirement years in Maui or Turkey or Mexico than be parents all over again. Gods bless you.

Parenting is a thankless job and I'm tired of being under appreciated. I don't want to have any more kids because I'm tired of being swamped with demands and expectations. I'm just done. I'm ready to be a bit selfish and take some time for me. Some people want to be around their kids all the time. I think those parents are the crazy ones.

We went to dinner at Robinson's new Home Teacher's house. He has a wife, five kids, and another on the way. The husband looked chipper, upbeat, and even played and wrestled with the kids. The wife looked exhausted. Mostly she looked like she was done with the pregnancy (she's due in May), but I could detect the same feeling I get when I feel like I'm fighting a losing battle with my kids: the need and desire to be with yourself...just being.

There was so much noise at that house. Kids screaming and fighting and talking...all the time. Her world revolves around those kids, their needs, and their wants. Being a good Mormon wife and mother, she has probably sacrificed everything she wanted to do just to have a family. And while I do admire her for that, I wonder if she ever regrets her decision or if she just writes it off as "Satan giving her dark thoughts" and then prays about it. Anyway, I'm not going to discuss this further in this entry simply because it is a bit off topic - it was something I was wondering but will probably never ask or get an honest response.

Let's just say I'm just not that type of person. I'm ready to travel again (thank goodness for the Chilkoot this summer!) and appease my adventurous spirit that's been chained up for way too long. I find myself planning "me vacations" because I yearn for time to just explore the world. Without the kids. Without the husband.

Just me.

Blessed be.

Dear Bobbi,

Today is your 32nd birthday.

A few weeks ago, you spent some time going through old photographs - mostly ones of high school and college - and I found myself thinking, "how in the world could you possibly think so negatively of yourself?"

In all of the pictures you were smiling, bold, and confident; yet I can clearly remember thinking of myself as ugly, tormented, and sad. I wrote myself off back then, believing that I would never be good enough, that I was unlovable, and that I couldn't be happy. Granted, most of this nonsense was seeped in teenage angst. We had a lot of growing to do.

Our friend Mona told me that she thought we've done more with our life than lots of people our age. I reflected upon this for a while. Had we really? Mona would not lie to us, so there had to be some truth in that statement. I made a mental checklist: 1) got married; 2) had kids; 3) traveled some - not as much as I would have liked, but some; 4) received 2 BAs and a Masters; 5) spent time volunteering for causes important to us; and on and on. There is still a lot we would like to do, certainly, but there's also so much we have done. We've made an impact in many lives, though we may never know it.

I don't miss our teenage years, but I have to wonder if we'd think differently had we known everything we know now. I'd like to think that something would have stuck, but back then we were so stubborn and hard-headed that it probably wouldn't have mattered what we knew. We needed to evolve as a person and I know for a fact that we are a different person now than we were 15 years ago. You're a little more confident and bold, reflective and thoughtful, careful and less dramatic. You can admit to being wrong and can share your fears with other people.

Today your father treated you for a Chinese lunch and your fortune cookie said, "Welcome change." I can't think of a better way to start a new year than embracing the very thing most people are afraid of. There's a lot that we still want to do that we will get to do someday. Some of it will require a bit of patience and a lot of drive. You have both and you can make all of these things happen. Life is a challenge, but the sooner you realize that the only thing in your way is you, anything is possible.

Life is too short to waste on worry and negativity and much to long to reflect on your mistakes. Keep learning, keep doing, keep loving, and keep be-ing.

Here's to another 32 years.

Love, Bobbi

When Arthur was a baby, we signed with him. He got very good at it and even though his doctor seemed to have a problem with his lack of speech, by the time he was 2 he could sign 60 different words. Pretty amazing even for a kid who doesn't sign. Right after he turned 2 he was able to put together four and five word sentences. His speech was so articulate and even now people ask why he isn't in kindergarten.

Since we had such great results with Arthur, we have chosen to sign with Balin too. He's already picked up about five signs and tonight for the first time he put together two words: "more ball." He's only nine months old and practically speaking in sentences!

He's a bit sloppy in his signing yet, but I'm confident that he will become more coordinated as he gets older. I'm excited to be able to converse with him, just like I did with his brother. I am reminded of Robinson's mom whenever I sign to the kids because she used to sign with Arthur when he was a baby. I miss her.

Blessed be.

One quilt.

How pathetic.

Granted, I did a lot this year. Third trimester swelling made it impossible to sew or quilt which meant all of the quilts I had intended to finish pre-infant were still in pieces in Ziplock bags. I had my second son and recovered from another birth. Robinson and I planted a garden and enjoyed another beautiful Alaskan summer. Arthur was enrolled in gymnastics and Balin finally got onto a decent sleep schedule. Our one and only car died (ironically on the way home from the quilters) and it took us some time to purchase a new car and track down an engine for our old vehicle. I actually did finish three quilts, but only got one quilted.

So, really, I suppose one completed quilt is really quite good considering the year's excitement.

Quilt #1: Strip Bow Quilt
This quilt was made for my cousin Brian and his partner Byron. I hadn't intended to make them a quilt (at least not so soon), but while we were at my grandmother's funeral, we started talking about the quilts I had made. They said that they loved them and I promised I would make them one. Someday. (I have a lot of "someday" quilts floating around my house.) I found the pattern in a quilt book my grandmother had. I recovered most of the fabric from various tubs and boxes. The quilt itself was very, very easy and it would not be difficult to make another one like it, especially for a doll. I learned that I will never, ever buy large widths of fabric at Jo-Ann's. The fabric is way too thin and, according to the quilter, will pill. Besides, with the amount it cost to buy that cheap fabric, I could have bought some nicer fabric and pieced it. With the right coordinating thread, no one would ever know.

Even though I didn't complete many quilts, I did manage to do some fun quilt-related stuff this year. I saw a longarm quilting machine in action. That was an amazingly fun experience. I'm not sure if I'll ever get to own one (they take up so much space) or if I'll ever be a serious enough quilter to ever need one. Quilting is something I like to have fun with. If I ever started hoarding fabric without using it until one day I was buried beneath and had to tunnel my way out of it to survive...then maybe I would need one. Right now, quilting is a way of relieving stress. I acknowledge I have a collection of projects, but I am trying my hardest to finish the ones I have before I take on any more. That's so hard for me because I love starting new projects. It's much easier for me to get excited about beginning a quilt than it is to see a project to the end. My passion begins to fizzle about half-way.

I really should consider doing more baby quilts because they are small and generally very easy. Plus, now that I have a free motion foot, I can quilt my own smaller quilts!

Which reminds me, I bought a free motion foot for a whopping $1 this year! I can now quilt my own (small) quilts or wall hangings. It is so hard to stipple something and make it look good. My first project was an iPad holder for Arthur's friend Jade. I've quilted a doll blanket for Arthur's doll and our family tree skirt. All three of these projects seemed to take forever and were murder on my back. It was slow going, but the results were quite lovely. My goal for this next year is to get really good at stippling. I guess that means I'll need to practice.

What, more quilting? Oh, darn!

Blessed be.

Come September 1st I get excited for Winter Solstice.

Kind of silly, I know, considering there's a perfectly good Wiccan holiday in between Autumn Equinox and Yule, but Winter Solstice is the one Wiccan holiday that I feel like I'm a good Wiccan. I actually do things that are Pagan-y and meaningful. I make special dinners and decorate the house. I carve a log which gets burned in a bonfire. I thank the Universe for the change in the seasons and the dramatic gain in sunlight we will begin to get. It's this time of year I feel my most devout.

Burning the Yule log was surprisingly pleasant this year. For the first time in our Yule celebrations, it was a balmy 15 degrees outside (notice that number was NOT preceded by a minus sign). We were able to enjoy the bonfire and watch the log burn. We poked at the fire and once we were finished, we went in to enjoy some rhubarb crumble.

Christmas was a quiet affair. No one visited, we didn't visit anyone. It was nice not having to rush through airline security. We opened presents, ate cinnamon rolls, and just spent time together. It was surprising to see the large number of gifts under the tree because we made it a point to have a frugal Christmas this year. Our families are so generous and we were very grateful for that.

2012 will represent many new beginnings for our family. I intend to start a sewing business. In fact, that was my Yule wish this year. I'm hoping to make some fun kid stuff for some of the holiday bazaars around town next year. I've been upcycling some upholstery scraps into baby doll carriers. I also plan on turning some old banners into diaper changing pads. I'm not sure if this will even be remotely successful, but I love to sew and if I can make a living out of it, why not?

Here's to 2012!

Blessed be.

Growing up, my parents always did the same thing with leftovers: we ate them as leftovers. Once a week, my mom or dad would pull out all the leftovers and we'd (begrudgingly) eat them.

Once I moved away and had to cook for myself, I discovered a sneaky way to make leftovers a bit more palatable: make them into something else. This idea didn't have to be saved for Thanksgiving leftovers anymore, it could be done anytime for any meal.

Sometimes Robinson's office will make soups and since we had a ton of potatoes, we always signed up to bring those. One of these meals was scheduled for Wednesday and Robinson received a reminder on Monday saying to bring mushrooms.

"I thought you said you signed me up to bring potatoes," he said.

"I did!" I responded.

He went to the store to get mushrooms, only to discover that the person who'd handed out the slips accidentally put his name with the mushrooms.

So now we had an extra pound of mushrooms.

Oh, darn.

I love mushrooms, so it wasn't a big deal. What was a big deal was that we weren't going to be able to use them in a meal this week since none of our meals had mushrooms in them.

But I didn't want them to go bad...

...so I made this incredible mushroom gravy.

Browned Pork Chops with Mushroom Gravy
Serves 4

1 tbs. canola oil
4 pork chops
1 tbs. butter
1 lb. mushrooms (any kind)
1/4 tsp. dried thyme
1/4 tsp. garlic powder
1 tbs. brandy or white wine
1/2 cup leftover turkey gravy*
1/4 cup water
1 can cream of mushroom soup
salt and pepper to taste

1. Brown the pork chops in the 1 tbs. oil. Place on the bottom of a casserole dish.

2. Melt the butter in a skillet. Chop mushrooms and add them to the melted butter. Add thyme and garlic powder. When the butter gets absorbed by the mushrooms, add 1 tbs. brandy or white wine.

3. Once the mushrooms are completely sauteed, add the 1/2 cup gravy and stir to incorporate. The gravy should reconstitute into a sauce on its own. Once it does, add the 1/4 cup water and mushroom soup. Stir well and bring to a boil. Pour over the pork chops.

4. Cover and bake at 350 degrees for about 20-30 minutes. Serve hot with rice or noodles.

Blessed be.

* My Thanksgiving turkey makes the best gravy and thus the richest mushroom sauce. You can find the recipe here.