Thursday, November 6, 2008

Evolution of the Jumping Couch

If you haven't already, please read the previous post on "The Jumping Couch." These are supplemental photos to detail parts of its evolution. Enjoy!

Birthday girl and friends at her Pony Birthday Party--2001.




Scarecrow Love--notice the newly covered couch cushions, but the faded base cover.

Here you see the lovely slipcovered cushions and the nasty uncovered base--recovering in progress.



More beautiful cushions and faded arms--but Colin's pretty cute!



Colin--older, wiser, and still cute! Couch--much more faded.





From ponies to high fashion--Kendall still likes to pose with her friends.






And Preeeeeeesenting--the full potenial of the couch in all its glory.

The Jumping Couch

I've been reading my friend Heidi's hilarious blog and THIS post about the need for creepy houses in the lives of children inspired the following comment from me. As I re-read it before posting (must check for those offensive little spelling errors), I realized the profound truth my words conveyed, so I post them here to enlighten your lives (perhaps with a tad bit of embellishing).


This is exactly why I don’t like living in the suburbs. Everything is too clean and shiny and perfect. Childhood just doesn’t thrive in the suburbs. Where's the adventure? The ability to build secret forts in abandoned places, to find priceless treasures hiding in the alleys, to take your friends to elaborate worlds you've created in your backyard "forest?" This is why I ocassionally allow messiness in my house–spookiness can be found in my junk room, and endless crafts come from the stuff that is piled on counters. In our family room, we lounge on a Clawson family fixture, the "jumping couch"--a 20 year-old sectional inherited from my parents that I have personally slip-covered with denim 3 times in 12 years. Elaborate games of tag could be played on the "jumping couch," while my kids and their friends got out the rainy day wiggles (we have a lot of those in Oregon). Huge forts have graced my house over the years, built with the 13 cushions lounging on that couch. Monstrous pillow slide competitions were held on our flight of stairs, also using those marvelous cushions.


Now that my kids are older, the couch seems a little more tattered. The denim is worn thin where bodies have the most contact. The springs kind of hang out the bottom in some places and my dad can't get out of it without help because the seats are so saggy. Still, I can't imagine ever getting rid of it, and at least one of my children wants to inherit it when I "die" (hahaha). Although I don't want to admit it, grandchildren will be running around my house in not too many years. More than likely they will live in the suburbs. Life will probably be harder for them than for their parents in this ever unstable time, but when they visit grandma and grandpa, they will always have the jumping couch, and everything will be right with the world.

If I Were Living a Seinfeld Episode...

the following experience might become ugly. You see, I've been catching up on my blog reading. As you might notice, my sister Jennie's blog, "My Life is a Sitcom", is the number 1 choice on my blogroll. I used to be number 1 on hers too, but moments ago, I discovered that I've fallen from #1 to #15--that's right--FIFTEEN! That's a hard one to swallow.

If I were Elaine, I might do any number of things: suck up in various ways to move up the heirarchy, break up with her, do a totally embarrassing dance. But I am going to be a bigger person than that. I am going to take a harsh look at myself, accepting the consequences for being an infrequent blogger. I am going to realize that my life is boring, and my daily activities are simply not that funny or entertaining. I am going to acknowledge that after all our years of being related, she might still harbor ill-will for me because I cut all the animals off the mobile hanging over her crib in a fit of 3 year old rebellion. I am NOT going to take offense that this might be revenge for telling her that she "has the same ugly nose as me" in high school. I am going to post multiple, highly-entertaining posts today to show her what she's missing. Neener, neener, neener. 8-P

See, look at the integrity I can muster for myself if I only try. Look at how I look to our forefathers, like Abraham Lincoln and Jerry Seinfeld, for inspiration and guidance. Look how I can yearn for all of you to be more like me in every way--good, and hardworking, and slow to take offense. If you want someone to truly lead you--look no further than Becky Clawson. Give me Liberty or Give Me Death! Ask not what you can do for your country... Plop, plop, fizz, fizz, oh, what a relief it is. Becky Clawson for President!!!

O'er the Land of the Free...and the Home of the Brave.

There's nothing better...


than October in Oregon!!! And I mean that sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, as I sit here on November 5th watching the wind and the rain, and listening to reports of flood warnings on the news. Just before my surgery, we enjoyed a trip to Bauman Farms outside of Salem. What a Heavenly Day: vibrant colors everywhere, perfect 70 degree weather, fresh "squeezed-as-you-watch" apple cider and hot apple cider donuts. I'm sure this is why the Pilgrims planned Thanksgiving. I think Fall in the northeast looks a lot like Fall here, and if so, I would have planned a feast too. Such bounty deserves a holiday all to itself!











Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Nirvana (or, And There was Joy in the Land)

My sister challenged her kids to write blog entries about what Thanksgiving would be like if the Pilgrims had landed in their state (Arizona). Unless they were on a spaceship, I don't think landing in Arizona would have been an option, but I suppose that is part of the charm of this exercise. LOL So, without further adieu, If the Pilgrims had Landed in Oregon...



Somewhere, in a solid, wooden ship out on the Pacific Ocean, a group of weary travelers spyed land. "Look, we spy land," they said. Disembarking, they traveled inland and came upon a beautiful valley. "Look, a beautiful valley," they said.



And, indeed, it was a beautiful valley, green and lush, full of berries and fruits and nuts of all kinds. Seriously. There were lovely spotted owls in all the trees and hordes of salmon in the streams. There was also an abundance of a new creature, the opossum, that they particularly enjoyed, because of the ease in capturing it. It simply threw itself under the wheels of their wagons, offering itself up for their dinner. These pilgrims brought all sorts of supplies with them, but the supplies were unnecessary because of the abundance in the valley. They thought they had found Nirvana. "We have found Nirvana," they said. And there was joy in the land.



As fall came, these pilgrims decided to prepare for the winter by building sturdy shelters. Everywhere they looked, they saw giant pine trees, just waiting to be fashioned into little cabins. So many were the trees, that they rejoiced again, because they could chop the trees down willy nilly, and there would still an infinite number of trees left. "We are happy for the abundance of trees," they said, "because even if we chop down trees willy nilly to build to our hearts desire, there will still be trees left for hugging." Hugging trees was very important to these early settlers of Oregon.



The landscape turned from greens to magnificent reds and golds, the sun shone brightly, and the days dawned perfectly--not too hot and not too cold. And the pilgrims thought this Nirvana was even more perfect than they thought before. "This nirvana rocks," they said. And there was joy in the land--so much joy, that the pilgrims planned a great Thanksgiving feast for one month hence (or the 3rd Thursday in November, or sometimes the 4th Thursday, but that makes for a real bummer of a Christmas shopping season). They were absolutely giddy with the beauty, and the bounty, and the perfect weather, and their cute little cabins, and all the trees for hugging. But they were the most giddy when they thought of the alluring aroma of Roast Possum, golden and juicy, their choice for the grand Thanksgiving feast.



Alas, November 1st brought an unusual site--dark clouds rolled across the valley and rain drenched all the aforementioned things they were giddy about. "It's okay," they said, "we must needs have a little rain to maintain our Nirvana." On day two of rain they said this, and day 5 and day 14 and day 21. But by day 23, the day before their feast, the horrible truth set in. Especially as they noticed the moss covering their beloved trees and the mold overgrowing their little cabins. The worst, however, had to be the nasty aroma of soaking wet, mangy possum fur. The stench became even more worrisome as possoms lay rotting in the roads. You see, the ease of capturing possums, which was once a blessing, became a curse as no one cared to partake of stinky, mangy, decomposing, moss and mold-covered possum. "There goes Thanksgiving dinner," they lamented. Needless to say, the feast did not go as well as was once hoped.

Never fear, however. These pioneers had hardiness bred into their bones. A plan was quickly hatched for the next year. "We will say nothing of this disaster," they decided. "Instead, we will invent the word, 'Snowbird.' We will live in Oregon during the months of Nirvana, finishing up the season with lavish Oktoberfest celebrations (which we will hold in September), then we will flee to Arizona. We hear they have a lovely celebration complete with roasted cactus paddles, crickets and scorpions and dead rattlesnakes hanging from the branches of the Ocotillo bushes."
Go here for details: http://jenslifeisasitcom.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2008-10-25T16%3A47%3A00-07%3A00&max-results=7
This plan quickly gained popularity, causing exhuberantly frenzied excitement! "Yay," they said.

And there was joy in the land.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Say It 3 Times Fast...


BUNION, BUNION, BUNION! Sounds funnier than it really is, but they say (I'm not sure who, just the cosmic "they"), that laughter is the best medicine, so I'm going to keep on repeating this mantra for the next couple weeks. A little incense, a few "ohms", and I'll be good to go. (bunion, bunion, bunion) 2 days til surgery, so instead of running around madly, cleaning and organizing, I thought I'd post on my blog. The art of avoidance is a beautiful thing. I found a picture of my little problem to share with you. Actually, I found much grosser pictures on Google Images, but they make me feel a little queasy, and I didn't think they'd match the decor, so this will do. If you're one of those weird medical types, feel free to investigate for yourself--there's plenty of deformity, and blood, and "eww"iness to satisfy even the most surgical palate. As for me...I'm off to my laundry and grocery shopping and fridge cleaning...bunion, bunion, bunion.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Fame!

Now that life has slowed down a bit, I thought I'd play a little catch up from summer. Prepare to be dazzled! Prepare to be amazed! Just don't prepare to see any of this in chronological order. Kyle went with the South Salem High School Wind Ensemble to play at the Olympics. While there, he was briefly interviewed for KGW TV in Portland. Check it out!

{{{KYLE'S BIG INTERVIEW}}}