Two weeks worth

Easter. If it is true that it is better to give than receive, then the Marti's should be wallowing in an amazing post-giving afterglow. The Radke-types spent the week prior to Easter taking turns being sick with what we called the "steam roller" flu. This consisted of two days of feeling like you'd been run over by a steam roller, then gradually feeling better. Paul thought, in uncharacteristic arrogance, that he was going get by without succumbing. But late Thursday night, he started to feel it coming on. The original plan was to travel up to the Marti's, who live in Olympia, on Saturday, spend the night, celebrate Easter and leave before I-5 backed up completely. We called them, told them what was up, and let them know we would keep them posted.

By Saturday morning, Paul thought that maybe he could make it up there for just Sunday if I drove (fine by me, I prefer to be behind the wheel). So we called the Marti's again, told them we would be transporting the virus to their house, and went about our business. About an hour later, the phone rings. It is Jeff, and he instructs me to just sit down and say "Yes" to his proposal. They have talked, and feel like it would be better all around if they come to our house, bring all the food, do the driving. I'm thinking to myself, "And this is better because..." and not coming up with anything except that Paul can go back to bed if he needs to. So I do as I'm told and agree, then tell him to hang up quick so I can start cleaning the house. He says not to do anything I wouldn't have done anyway if they hadn't been coming. Yeah, right.

So they came down, brought nearly all the food, a bottle of wine, a nice plant, great company, good laughs and stories, and the list goes on. There is no way we could ever pay them back and this bothers me. If I were the giver, I would not want anything in return. It is a chance to just give, with no strings attached. But as the recipient, I feel so lame! What is up with that? This happened with my trip to Minnesota, too, as the ticket was a gift. How to say thank you in a way that actually expresses how thankful you really are? It just isn't possible.

Milestones. Along with Easter, that weekend signified our one-year anniversary here in Oregon, a birthday for me, and a birthday for Thomas. Strange how just being here a year makes certain things feel "normal". I know what to expect from the trees and plants - soon my Star Magnolia will be done blooming, and my rhododendron will begin. The birds are coming back, and I recognize the ones I didn't last year by name. The rain will stop and go from now until mid-June, then stop completely. These things I know because I have lived them, and now they are part of my life, not just hearsay from the neighbors. Rhythm is a good thing.

Holes. Well, only one. In my head. Actually, in my nose. I've been wanting a piercing for over a year now, and almost got it last year just after we moved here. But Stephen said he "wouldn't know" me and the kids in general were totally against it. So, since they had already been traumatized enough already by the move, I tabled the idea. But then a year passed, my birthday rolled around again, things were feeling normal (i.e. in need of spicing up), and I figured the kids could handle the change by now. Stephen was still against the idea - he was so adamantly against it, you would have thought I was getting a half-inch peg with a skull stuck in there - but I figure I let him wear a 19" rat tail, so he would have to live with a piercing. I didn't get a peg, just a tiny sparkle, and he has warmed up to the idea so much he wants to know how much it hurt, and whether or not it would hurt him if he got his ears pierced. He's actually wanted his ears pierced since Kindergarten, so no surprises there. For now, though, he is still afraid of the pain - maybe I should play it up so he forgets about it altogether...