Geek, nerd, bookworm

Since I was a very young child I have been obsessed with books.  One of my parents favorite stories to tell me is when I was two, and newly adopted.  I wasn’t much of a talker, but the one sentence I could say quite well was, “You talk, I listen!”  I would repeat this until someone would scoop me up into their lap, and read me the stack of books I carted around with me.

As I got older and could read chapter books,  I devoured every one I could get my hands on.  My mom would buy me a book, and I would have it finished by bed time.  She finally stopped buying me books, and got me a library card instead. 

Rowan has been read to since he resided in my  uterus.  He has been surrounded by people that have cultivated a love of reading in him, and his other biological half is an avid reader as well, so it does not surprise me one bit that he has a love and respect for literature. 

This morning while I was emptying the dishwasher, Rowan assembled this tent, picked out his favorite books, and spent 45 minutes reading to himself and the cat.  At one point he came out to show me that he could count the ten sea shells in one of his books, but then he disappeared, and I didn’t see him again until after I had mopped the whole house.

It delights me to no end how much he reads.  I find it amazing that not only will he sit through as many books as you will read to him, but will also spend time on his own, looking at the pictures, and making up stories to go with them.  I look forward to the years ahead of reading out loud to him.  I loved hearing The Secret Garden, The Chronicles of Narnia, Alice in Wonderland, and many more that my parents read to me.  (I never told them that I would sneak the book up to my room and read ahead.  I just couldn’t wait!)

My son is well on his way to becoming a bookworm, and I couldn’t be more proud!


If you know me, at all, even a little bit, you know that I am a sucker for a good sunrise or sunset.  *Que singing.*  Are you done?  Ok.  Tevye would be proud.

Almost every single morning, and a lot of evenings (let’s face it, my schedule is dictated by a toddler.  I’m home ALL THE TIME!), I’m granted the privilege of watching the sun as we pass by it.  Now, I’ve lived in a lot of places, but this is the only place that has a consistently colorful sky.  I take pictures of it almost every day, mostly because I can’t get over the beauty.

Anyway, here is this morning’s sky.

Nice, right?  There are always fleeting, and you have to catch them at just the right time, or you miss the peak of its splendor. 

There really isn’t any point to this post other than to share the fact that I like to go outside in my pj’s at 6:45 every morning, when its 40 degrees, freeze my tuchus off for ten minutes, and stare at the sky.  Rowan watches from the door, and when I come back in says, “Whew!  Did it!”

Today is Thanksgiving, so I suppose I should do the obligatory, “I’m thankful for….” post.  I’m not really going to though, and here’s why: I’m incredibly thankful EVERY SINGLE DAY.  I am not an especially impressive person, but I do have the gift of thankfulness.  Not a day goes by where I don’t stand back and think to myself, “It’s crazy how blessed I am.”   I can’t think of a single second where I needed for anything.  I don’t need a day to remind me how rich I am.  I’m not saying that I’m not going to partake in the festivities.  No, there is a pie with my name written all over it! 

I will take the opportunity to express this though:  I think it every day, but I don’t always say it-I love my friends.  The ones that have stood by me through lots of crazy choices, bad decisions, and joyful times.  You guys are wonderful, and I am grateful for your presence in my life.

Let me set the scene:

The sky is energetic with its intent to blackmail my plans of carrying in Christmas decorations from the garage.  I secure my over-sized sweater around my shoulders, and stubbornly press into the wind.

There is a pot of water on the stove gently simmering with cinnamon sticks immersed inside. The fragrance has consumed every room.

Christmas music plays from the stereo, Rowan is rhythmically turning circles in the center of the room, humming as he stares at the lit web of lights on his train table.

Decorations litter the floor, becoming impromptu toys for two larkish orange cats.  The larger of the two bats a plastic santa under the couch, meows, and lurks off, his play thwarted.

There is a lightness in the house.  A mirthful anticipation of what is to come.

Christmas has arrived at our house.

Junk and stuff

Guys, I’m really sorry for not posting for the past few days.  It got busy, what with my birthday, getting Christmas decorations out, and life in general.  I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again, I’d much rather be living life than writing about it. 

Thanksgiving is approaching fast, and I’ve got some gifts I need to spend a lot of time working on in the next few weeks, so I make no blogging promises.

All that being said, here is a photo of another one of Rowan’s unique ensembles.  A Rowan Gabriel Dalenberg original, if you will.  Allowing him to dress himself is like unwrapping a presant.  You never know what you’ll discover.

A hand-made necklace, blue sweats, orange and brown striped shirt, and elephant boots. Stupendous!

Cop out

I’ve had a really busy day, and I’m getting ready to go out for the evening, so instead of a post with real content, you get these pictures of Rowan. 

Come on, you can’t complain too much, they’re wicked cute pictures!

I am also going to open up the floor for any suggestions of future topics you would like me to write about.  If you have any questions you want me to answer, or anything you want my opinion on, feel free to ask.  You can always email me, or ask anonymously as well.  Ready?  Go!

My I Can’t think of anything to post, post.

So back in July of 2004, when I lived on Cape Cod, I was young, and sorta stupid, and spent the day on the beach in a bikini.  I put suntan lotion on every inch of exposed skin, except for well….the following pictures are evidence of my….oversight.

There is no reason for posting this other than my lack of another idea.  That, and I was browsing through Flickr photos, and these caught my eye.

Sorry for wasting your time.  You may now get back to your day.

Superhero status.

My son is a superhero.  He says please and thank you without being prompted. (most of the time)  He can brush his own teeth, wash his face, and he remembers to turn off the light.  He helps when he can, gives hugs freely, and has more empathy that some adults I know.

In typical superhero fashion, he also wears his underwear over his  pants.

I asked Rowan to get ready to go to the post office, grab the box on the counter, and meet me at the car. 

I had to try not to laugh when I saw him.  To him there was nothing funny about his outfit.  He dressed himself entirely, and was proud of that.

He confidently walked into the post office, with his head held high and a spring in his step.  There was not a doubt in his mind that he looked good.  He didn’t care that he was dressed differently, or that people were pointing and giggling.  He just threw them a smile, and continued his walk to the counter. 

Carefully he handed the box and the money I gave him to the cashier.  The man behind the counter commented, “Son, your Momma put your underwear on the wrong side of your pants!”  I expected Rowan to either ignore the comment, or shyly put his head on my shoulder.  Instead he boldly stated, “Nope! I did it!”  He took the change, hopped down from the counter, waved to his fans, and held the door open for his mom.

We walked hand-in-hand to the car, both of us beaming. 

I am proud of my son.  He is a superhero.

A less-than-thrilling post

Before the cold weather hits, I’ve been trying to get Rowan outside as much as possible.  As his imaginative play develops, his desire for props has grown.  He had been asking for a gas pump for a few days, so I finally made him one last week.  Now, yes, I could have just bought him this:

Personally I don’t have an extra $25 to spend on this, I don’t have $25 to spend at the real gas pumps.  Yes, this is cute, and perfect for him, and I’m a little bummed I can’t buy it, but we can have just as much fun with the one I made out of a kitty litter bucket.  😀

Now, this is not rocket science.  Heck, it’s not even science!  I threw this together with stuff I found around the house, and it was a darn good excuse to use power tools.

The materials with a helmeted kid.

Like I said, it’s a kitty litter bucket, a piece of plastic tubing that I”ll probably get in trouble for taking when my dad goes to fix something, and it’s gone, tin foil, and some duct tape.  Throw in a power drill, and some drill bits that were way too big for this project, but I wanted to use, so I did.

The kitty litter bucket with a hole drilled into it (aren't you glad I explained that for you?)

Notice the perfectly cylindrical hole drilled right near the “with easy pour grips” line.  Now, it’s not imperative that you use an “odor eliminating carbons” kitty littler bucket.  Multiple cats, indoor cat, clumping, or non-clumping littler buckets will work just fine.

Insert the tube and secure with duct tape on the inside of the bucket.

(Is it just me, or is this post starting to sound dirty?)

Attach some tin foil to the opposite end of the tubing, and shape into a nozzle.


Allow child to play. Child will play for five minutes-tops. Child will then find bug and follow it for a half hour.


This concludes the “How to build a gas pump at home” tutorial.  For more information, please don’t contact me.  It’s not exactly difficult.  Use your imagination.

Warning:  Feelings of pride at building your child something out of recycled materials instead of buying a toy that will eventually end up in a landfill may arise.  Overconfidence in your abilities to build a treehouse may follow.  Proceed with caution.

As a side note, Rowan has played with this thing every day since I made it.  He has incorporated an old Petco card to use as a credit card, and some Guatemalan coins have become his cash for buying gas.