Steak, No Hormones Added

in an effort to finally maybe get pregnant already, i am going back on the meat.
being a vegetarian was fun. but apparently steak is really good for ya hormones. 


Barnaby MacDuff!

Last week, while Peter Pan was away, I made an important discovery. 

That Barnaby MacDuff is pretty great.

I'm a fan.


Update From Sacramento

After five hours through the most beautiful tree-packed country of Southern Oregon and then four more hours through the icky desolation of Northern California, we are now in Sacramento. It's hot, it's hot, it's hot. On Sunday we finish the drive down to San Jose. I'm not thrilled to be here, but I don't hate it as much as I expected.

Here we go, California.



The rig rolled out at seven a.m. sharp and now we are in Portland. We take round two of the trip into Sacramento tomorrow, and on to San Jose after that. Brandon starts his internship on Tuesday. I am still not sure why we are driving down there so early except that maybe Brandon was testing my reflexes? I think I can say I passed. We packed for a three-month adventure in four days flat, and I only had one minor melt down.

I am homesick already.


Moscow Summer In A Weekend, Part Two

Here is what I like about Moscow in the summer:
Visiting Oprah, Uma, Doris the Mini Horis, and Big Mama down the road just before dusk.

Anne puts Big Mama under her spell.

Feeding Big Mama is about the bravest thing I've ever done. She's sort of blind, and she sort of bit my thumb. She promises it was an accident. I believe her.

Oprah (right) and Uma (left) are the silliest llamas I've had the pleasure to laugh at.

The Holbs looks mighty dapper tonight.

Peter was thrilled to be reunited with his lovah, Doris the mini-Horis, who is actually a boy. Whatever. Love is love.

Doris' real name, I am sorry to tell you, is Cubby.

The End.

Peter Pan, A Study

I can stare at this dog for hours and it just never gets old. What a wonderful weirdo.

Also of note: Brandon is making some pretty hilarious faces too.

Moscow Summer In A Weekend, Part One

In the summertime, when the sun is out and the college kids are gone, that's when I remember how much I love Moscow.

This weekend it hit eighty degrees. And rather than pack, I decided to cram it all, an entire Moscow summer, into the days leading up to Wednesday. Cause I waited all stinking year for this Moscow summer, and I am not gonna miss it.

I went to the Farmer's Market and listened to a xylophone band and browsed over tomato plants and bought some jewelry. I bumped into Jeff and Ollie and their new Sawyer Johanna, who is just the perfect size to eat in one bite. I saw a friend from church who offered me a bite of his chicken skewer, I listened to a goth teen with triangular hair play classical violin next to the organic soaps. And then I ate an empanada.

Grain silo!

This is Otto's. Otto's is pretty.

And then the famous Annie Pies herself met me for a sesh at my favorite thrift place.

I'm going to miss it here this summer!



The Holbrooks are moving to San Jose for the summer one week
(we just found out today)
Lord have mercy.


Late Spring

Here in Moscow the trees are beginning to sprout. Daffodils are starting to poke through the ground. Grass is coming up in splotches. It is mid-May and we are barely seeing tulips. I am not holding my breath. I have learned that when it comes to Moscow and spring, you just have to have patience.

In some parts of the country it has been Spring since early March. In some parts of the country the weather is already reliably into the sixties and seventies (and eighties!).

Here in Moscow, we celebrate a day that hovers above 48 for longer than an hour. We are still awaiting our spring.

It comes every year, even when I think it won't. Even when it comes just as most people are getting their first glimpses of summer, it comes. It always comes.

It's slow, but it comes.

I try and think of that on days like today, when it is hailing horizontally and I have to turn the heater on and I'm wearing way too many clothes for May.

Perhaps I am a little like Moscow, too.

It'll come.
It always does.


Husbands who are studying do not want to be bothered.

NOT by cute wives wearing red lipstick.

NOT by cute wives with cute freckles.

And NOT NOT NOT by cute wives wearing red lipstick with cute freckles who want back tickles.

Don't you know?


My Cone Head Baby

Here's what about Peter Pan.
Peter Pan considers himself people.

He sleeps on beds under the covers, just like people.

He eats apples like people, one dainty bite at a time while I hold the core.

When he sits on the couch, he gently rests his bottom on a pillow.
If he's on the floor, he'll place his bum right on your foot.

He also drinks out of cups.