Northern Noise

A friend from high school posted a meme on Facebook that both makes me sad and also puzzles me.   As much as I despised the politics of GW Bush, he was our president and in my book that means he gets a certain amount of respect.  And while I wished he weren't president, I never would EVER have considered wishing he were dead. So I just don't get this one. In my friend's defense, I don't think he actually wishes Obama dead. I think he just hates the President so he thought it was funny.  One of the statements in his comment section said that Obama doesn't exhibit a "love of American values and ideology." Huh?  What are "American values and ideology?"  I know what I see as American values and I would guess that I don't see eye to eye with that other point of view.  In an attempt to understand, I decided to do some research on why conservatives hate Obama so much.  Here's what I've learned. 1) People still

This was a productive weekend at the Hadaway house.  More spring cleaning.  It feels darn good though.  The big deal was getting Jed's room cleaned.  When Ali was little, Bob built a big loft bed for her and it's been there ever since.  Jed slept up there some after he got that room, and he's used it for playing with his knights and cars and all the epic battles and scenes over the years.  I've bonked my head on it too many times to count. Well, it's gone now.  Jed got the the point where he was too tall to play under it and too tall to play comfortably on top of it.  And in truth it had become a way to hide mess up high out of mom's line of sight.  He and Bob took it apart, hauled it outside, and then we cleaned all the stuff it hid.  I bought a put together book shelf and Jed put it together yesterday.  We moved a desk in there from Ali's room. All of a sudden there's a big boy room where a kid's room used to be.  It's lighter, it's brig

This was a great morning.  Husband left for early appointment.  Boy slept in.  Mama got to drink coffee, read the news and listen to Hear and Now on NPR.  Then, I had my own most awesome breakfast.  Fried spam with scrambled eggs.  Ahhhh.  Best. Breakfast. Ever.

Almost spring break - which for me is two days long.  The light is shining later at night, the sun is sharing a hint of warmth, people are smiling in Fred Meyer. Bring it on, spring. I'm ready.

After being down with a sinus infection, I not only switched antibiotics but I've got prednisone flowing through my veins. Drug-induced highs are a good way to get a start on spring cleaning.  So in order to bring some order, it was time to tackle the overflow. Books. Bob and I were married about three years before we merged our his and hers bookshelves into an ours bookshelf.  Compromising on an organizational system was a long process, but we managed.  One of the biggest challenges was space, and it continues to be an issue. Each time we run out of space on the bookshelves in the house, we sort into 3 piles.  Books that need to stay in the house, books that can go on the shelves in the studio, and books that we can get rid of. We've basically agreed that if we don't have space, we have to purge.  We purged a goodly amount today, mostly paperbacks and Alex Cross novels that we won't re-read.  We also have a goodly amount to move into the studio. But that means t

First, let me make it very clear that I love my mom.  A lot.  And I like her too, and respect her.  I don't want anyone to think anything different. Okay, now its time to talk about texting.  (In fact, I'm already giggling.) One on visit mom and I talked about texting, and she shared that with her long fingernails, texting was problematic.  I pointed out that she had voice to text on her phone, and that all she needed to do was hit the button, speak to her phone, and voila! her text was magically ready to send.  I felt like a good daughter, helping her mother with technology.  Little did I know at the time that we had created a monster. Wait, monster isn't an accurate word.  What I didn't realize is that she would speak to her phone and hit send without looking to see what her phone actually heard her say.  And in her defense, she's pretty accurate about 85% of the time.  It's the other 15% that makes me crack up. Here's an example of a text from mom