Party of the Year

When I lived in Manassas, my friend Anitra began throwing a White Elephant/Ugly Sweater Christmas party each year.  They were the BEST parties-- truly raucous and hilarious, which is hard to pull off when you're Mormon and alcohol is off-limits.  They were so fun, I even tried to recreate it in Charlottesville (and a lot of people came and it was very nice-- but having a party at 10am on a Saturday just does NOT elicit the same craziness that a Friday night party will get you!).  (It also probably didn't help that the average age of the Relief Society in my ward is about 70.) 

Anyway.  A couple pictures from past parties might explain better than I can with mere words just how fabulous these parties were:

L-R, My sister Tracy, me (very pregnant with Camille), Tracy Scoresby in horsehead and tacky sweater, and Anna Cordner

And the year before, I got the fish that Jen is holding ("Lenee," named for the giver) which now sits in Craig's office.  And no, nothing in those cups is alcoholic!

I was already thinking of heading up to Manassas to visit Tracy on her birthday when my friend Vangie mentioned that the party would be that same day.  And I was sold.  I texted Candace, who was now throwing the party (since Anitra moved to Utah the same summer we did) and begged to be invited, too.  I asked my in-laws to babysit (since Craig had to chaperone a basketball game).  I got everything arranged.  And I was off, returning to Northern Virginia!

You know how they say you can never go home again?  I've been fully aware of the truth of that sentiment.  I've had plenty of times where I've shown up to a place that has significance to me, only to find that in my absence everyone has moved on and no one really cares that I've been gone, let alone that I'm back.  The first few times that happened it was a bit painful (and super awkward), so I know the drill.  I was really excited to see all these friends again, but I wasn't expecting it to be some amazing homecoming or anything.

But, it turns out, sometimes you CAN go home again.  Because seeing these friends was truly like I'd never left at all.  And it was even better than I'd hoped it might be!  A bunch of the ladies there had also been gone-- Jen came back from Chantilly, Christina was home after spending two years in China, Anitra flew in for the party (!!!) and Sarah carpooled there with me.  And miracle of miracles, I managed to spend a good chunk of time talking with most of them!

AND IT WAS SO FUN!!!!!

Halfway through the party, I realized that my cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling so much.  Now THAT is a great feeling!

I LOVED my friend Andrea's ugly sweater for this year

Getting ready for the big group picture

Sarah got the final prize: a re-gift from years ago when Anitra gave away a poster of herself with the caption, "I believe in you."  This inspired a spate of Anitra-themed gifts, pictured below:

Here we have two t-shirts, two framed pictures, and two mugs, all featuring Anitra.  Bet she'll think twice before she posts any more pictures on facebook!

The whole, happy gang.

Oh, how I love these friends of mine.  When we moved to Manassas in 2006, I never could have guessed how many wonderful friendships I would find there.  How lucky am I?


I already can hardly wait until next year's party!

It Gets Worse

Yesterday after sacrament meeting, I was walking my three littlest kids to their nursery and primary classes, and I caught up with a friend so I could chat with her.  Her husband came up behind us and mumbled something about a diaper being stuck.  I figured Camille's dress must have gotten tucked into her diaper, and began turning her around trying to fix it.  My friend stopped to see what the issue was, also, and she was the one who figured out: the diaper was stuck to ME.  The back of my skirt, specifically.

Like I said, Constant humiliation.

When I told Craig he laughed hysterically and then said, "At least it was a clean diaper!" 

Just when you think you've hit rock bottom, someone comes up with a new low for you to stoop to...


Anyway.  Sorry I don't have a picture for you.  But, no, I'm not really sorry.

December Woes

So much has been going on, but most of it not particularly fun, I'm afraid...


We'll start with my vacuum breaking two weeks ago.  The seminary teacher had asked me to leave the vacuum downstairs so she could do a little tidying, so I was surprised when she tapped on the door and walked into the family room.  I was sitting in front of the computer in my bathrobe with crazy, I-just-woke-up hair (NOT the kind you instagram, trust me!) and was both embarrassed and annoyed at the intrusion.  She explained that she couldn't get the brushes on the vacuum to rotate; I tried a few things to get it going, and when those didn't work, I told her I'd just have to look more closely later.  (I wasn't going to get down on the floor and start dismantling the vacuum in my bathrobe!).  I figured one of those ornament hooks was probably stuck in it, so that's an easy fix.  Later in the afternoon I actually took it apart and cleaned the brush head, but found nothing wrong.  I googled it, called the company, they walked me through a few things, decided the motor in the brush head had died and promised to send me a new one.  It's still under warranty, so everything is free at least.  And I could still use the hose attachment, which is useful for cleaning up the piles of cereal my kids spill all over the floor several times every day.  So that was fine.  Not ideal, but workable for a week or so.

On Monday the new brush head arrived and I excitedly snapped it all together... and it still didn't work.  I called the company again, and after waiting 20 minutes to talk to a person, explained what had happened.  "Must be something else wrong, then!" she said, "You'll have to bring it in."  Since there are no Dyson stores nearby, I brought it to a UPS store and they boxed it up and mailed it for me (which is AWESOME, since I absolutely HATE boxing up anything, let alone a big old vacuum!).

And now I'm just waiting.  And watching my floors get grosser and grosser and wondering if it's worth the hassle of pulling out Craig's shop vac to take care of it all.

Also, I can't imagine that I'm going to get it back before Craig's brother and family arrive next week.  So that's been worrying me.  Fortunately, my mother-in-law graciously told me she'd bring her vacuum for me to borrow, so I won't be completely embarrassed that day.  (At least, not by my floors-- there's a good chance something else will happen to embarrass me!)

Anyway, this whole not having a vacuum thing seems to kill any motivation I've ever had to clean my house.  I'll notice that the bathrooms are dirty and be like, "But I don't have a vacuum, so who cares?"  I realize that makes no sense whatsoever, but there you go.  I'm sure the cold snap is adding to my inertia, too.  {Sigh.}  It's a good thing we've got company coming, or who knows how gross I might let things get?


***

The other fun thing around here is that everyone has been getting sick.  It started the same Friday my vacuum died.  That night, Colton wouldn't settle down.  He never said anything to indicate that he wasn't feeling well, he just kept wandering into my bedroom.  I was staying up later than I should have been, reading a book, so I'd just walk him back to his room and tell him to go to sleep.  The fourth time he came in, I'd finally turned out my light, but I thought I could hear him.  He stood in the dark for a moment, and then I heard that awful splat sound of liquid hitting the carpet.  I hoped maybe he'd just managed to spill a cup of water somehow, but then more splattering and I was out of bed in a flash.  Thrown up pizza: so disgusting.  So staining your carpet.

Then the following Thursday Kendra was complaining that her tummy hurt, and a few hours later she was throwing up (mostly in the toilet-- good girl, Kendra).  And later that night Ryder followed suit.  The next day Craig came home from work early and proceeded to lie around light-headed and ill, trying not to pass out.

The ward Christmas party was Friday night and I was supposed to bring food to it AND sing, so I was hoping to go and worried that I, too, would start throwing up.  Fortunately I managed to avoid it (knock on wood), so I brought most of the kids with me (Ryder slept through it, but Kendra was feeling better, so she came).  So it was me trying to manage everything with four kids.  I'd asked a friend to sit with me and help, but she ended up being over an hour late, so that didn't work.  When she did arrive, she sat down with her one child and said, "How do you manage with all your kids?" and I told her, "Constant humiliation."

Then I had to get up and sing my musical number.  We only had half the people we'd planned, because two were also sick; and the two who came had missed the previous practice.  So we weren't very good.  And then, as if that wasn't bad enough, Colton decided to run back and forth head-butting me the entire time.

Have you ever tried to sing while a small child is hurling himself into your side?  It's not pretty.

He's revving up, here

I sat back down and thought to myself, "Yup.  Constant humiliation."


We went home.  I put all the kids to bed.  Bentley woke me up at midnight crying because his stomach hurt.  He was throwing up at 4am.  I also got woken up at 2am by Ryder yelling at me and crying because he'd missed the Christmas party.  (I was a good mommy and took him downstairs and fed him some dinner, since he'd slept through that, too.)  And Craig woke me up at 5am because he was rattling around in the bathroom and I suddenly panicked that maybe he actually had fainted and was lying on the floor helpless.  I was kind of annoyed when he was just fine, but noisy.  (He did let me sleep in the next morning.  But he let the kids eat cereal over the rug.  Which I can't vacuum.  Grrrr...)

I got out of the shower and found this

My poor boys

***

So that's been the last couple weeks.  Everyone is healthy at the moment, a fact for which I am very grateful.  I know of some people who were sick for a week-- the fact that our bug only lasted 24 hours is a huge blessing.

I think it's time to put on some Christmas music and lug the shop vac up from the basement...

A Story About Gum

I don't chew gum any more.  I used to when I was in college, mostly because I'd be on campus all day, and it was an easy way to get a good, clean taste in my mouth after eating lunch (or whatever I ate back then?).  But chewing gum for longer than about five minutes makes my jaw ache, and now that I'm home most of the time, I just brush my teeth (or, let's be honest, eat something else!) if I don't like the taste in my mouth.  And since it sort of seems like a waste of money and isn't particularly good for your teeth and is waaaaaaaaay too likely to end up stuck somewhere I don't like, I rarely let my kids chew gum, either.

But still, I have this sitting in my cupboard:

And it's been there for over a year, and it will probably be a long while before I toss it out.  No, I don't hold onto it because I just love the color purple (although I do love purple!).  I hold onto it because I like the story of how I got it. 

It all happened when we flew to Seattle for my Grandma's 100th birthday.  Flying with five kids is no small feat, and the luggage we require is considerable (especially when you factor in carseats, strollers, a pack-n-play, and the necessary snacks for a 6-hour flight!).  So when we flew, we checked everything we could at the curbside, and then Craig dropped me off with some kids and a few carry-on items, and took the car to park it in the long-term parking lot.  Camille was getting hungry, so I searched for a chair so I could sit and feed her while we waited for Craig.  I didn't notice until she was happily eating that I'd sat right by the gate for a middle eastern airline. 

I should explain that when I did study abroad to Tanzania back in 1999, I mostly lived on the island of Zanzibar, which is about 98% Muslim.  So I spent four months seeing women almost always having their heads covered-- in Swahili, this covering was called a buibui, but I've never heard it called that anywhere else.  Most Zanzibar women at the time did not fully veil their faces, but on the rare occasion when we saw another Christian, it was always quickly obvious because they were the only women whose hair you could see.  But it's not like anyone looking at me would guess this information about me.  And I do realize that there are certainly some Americans who are not thrilled when they encounter a Muslim, especially at an airport or flying in a plane.  

Sitting with her chair backed up against my chair back was a woman wearing a black hijab that covered most of her face.  Ryder, being four at the time, was immediately curious about her and began asking me about her.  She was very friendly and talked with him, while I tried to smile in a way that I hoped would convey, "Don't worry, I'm not some crazy Islamaphobe!"  She was probably doing her best to also convey her niceness to me as well.  We talked about how difficult it is to travel with children, and she said that her four children were all back home.  I think she was flying back to them.

At some point during all of this, she asked Ryder if he would like to see her face, so he wandered over in front of her and she pulled down her hijab enough so that he could see her face.  Then all the kids wanted a turn, and she was very obliging.  And some time during all this, she gave my kids this packet of gum, which they were ecstatic about.

Before long, Craig arrived and Camille finished eating and we headed towards security.

This wasn't some big deal, life changing thing for me.  But at the same time, when I hear about people being afraid of other people-- both people who are afraid of Muslims, and Muslims here in America who are on the receiving end of that fear, I like to see this pack of gum and remember that it doesn't have to be like that.  That people can be friendly and respectful and learn from and teach one another.  That having children and airports-- and especially mixing the two!-- is something mothers all over the world understand.

And that something as simple as gum can bring a smile to anyone's face.

Vote of Confidence

There was a time, back in Manassas, when my best friend and I were both pregnant and seeing the same ob-gyn.  (Even though I had a homebirth with a midwife, I received dual care from both my midwife and a doctor.)  We were talking recently and comparing notes on this doctor-- who we both really liked-- and we realized one of the things she did that made us both happy: when we would come in for our post-partum care, she would say things along the lines of, "Well, in case you have another baby" or even, "I think you could have another..."

It's not that we thought she was encouraging us to have more babies (although, honestly, if she had been that would probably be a good business practice for her!), but it felt like she was telling us, "You're doing so well, you could totally have another kid and you'd be just fine!"  And it made us think maybe we were doing really well.  It was a small thing, but when you've just had a baby you're at your worst: you're sore and tired and fat and exhausted and overwhelmed by this new baby and your body feels like this alien form that you will never recognize again (did I mention you're also really tired?), and any boost to your confidence is really helpful.


Good for my doctor for talking to her patients like that.  I wonder if she has any idea how kind her words sounded in my ears.

This Is Your Brain on Clickbait

The other day my youngest kids were sick, I didn't have much to do during the day, and I pretty much sat around staring at my phone or holding crying kids (or begging them to sleep, because they didn't believe me that a well-rested body can heal itself faster).

By the end of the evening, I was a wreck.  I was screaming at Colton because he wouldn't stop playing with the lights (WHY IS THAT SO FUN????) and I was practically crying over how miserable my life was.

When I wrote in my journal that night, it began to hit me just how much time I'd spent on my phone reading about despicable people, because I am a complete sucker for headlines such as, "The 15 Worst Roommates Ever: You won't believe #4!" and dumb stuff like that.  I'd also discovered a tumblr page of terrible advice written to horrible people and gotten sucked into reading page after page of it...

I realized that my mind felt yucky after a day like that.  It was just like when you have those days where all you eat is junk food and then your grossed out by yourself.  But in my head.

I resolved to keep my distance from the internet the next day-- no facebook and no blogs.  (I did allow email and reading Dear Abby.  I'm only human, after all!)  And I had a much better day.  And I didn't hate my life.  I didn't scream at my kids (even when they were playing with the light switches).

Lesson learned.  Again.  And probably not for the last time, either (sigh).  I have real books to occupy my mind.  Push facebook back a bit.  And avoid clickbait like it's the plague.

Camille the Outdoorswoman

Camille is an outdoorsy little soul.  If anyone goes outside, she begs to join them, pleading, "Ow-shy!!!  Ow-shy!!!"  And her favorite time of the day is when it's time to go to the bus stop to pick up her siblings and she gets to run around on the sidewalk.

It's funny, because I think there was a time when I thought of myself as being outdoorsy, but eventually I realized that I'm really not.  I like the idea of being outside.  I love reading about nature.  But when I'm actually in the great outdoors, I'm usually too hot or too cold or there are bugs or it's too bright to read...  I'm kind of a wimp.  Not that I hate being outside, or something-- it's just not usually the zen experience I've managed to picture in my head. 

But I like that Camille likes being outside.  I'll have to be careful not to quash that in her.  (Maybe she'll help me learn to genuinely like it!)

About a month ago, we were having an outdoor evening-- Craig and I were sitting in camping chairs in the driveway while the kids played with balls and scooters and such.  Suddenly, a gust of wind picked up and scattered the leaves all around us.  Camille took one look, raised her arms in the air and began all-out screaming for joy.  She couldn't get enough of the leaves blowing in the wind!  Every time it happened, she'd start screaming again.  (And it really was happy screaming, which parents know is a pretty rare thing!)

So, yeah, she's likes being outside and she likes sports (well, balls, at least).  It will be fun seeing where this girl goes in life!

Just, you know, hanging out in the driveway

Thanksgiving and Ryder's Birthday

Thanksgiving was delightful.  The best part was just having everyone home-- Craig has been so busy with work and the kids were so busy with soccer.  I really loved having everyone under one roof with nowhere in particular to go, being together! 

It also helped that Craig and I have finally figured out how we do Thanksgiving, and it all went really smoothly-- no panicking over oven space or not enough hot pads or anything.  The day before, Craig had to work a half day, so I made the turkey brine for him and then took the kids to the library.  We decided to drop in and say Hi to Daddy (since his school is super close to the library) and he gave us a tour of his school!  First time I'd seen most of it, and the kids were super impressed!  (The cutest thing was Camille standing in the doorway of the gym, waving and yelling Hi to the basketball team in there practicing!)

Then we headed home and Craig followed a few minutes later.  He got the turkey brining and then once his parents arrived, he began working on pies with his mom helping him out.  He made this amazing chocolate caramel pecan pie, and not only did it taste delicious, it was also very pretty.  If he ever decides to quit his day job, he just might be able to work in a bakery!

Then we took a break from the kitchen to celebrate Ryder's birthday with Grandma and Grandpa!  They brought him lots of presents, which he was very excited about:

He picked out that outfit.  Nothing I said could persuade him to change.

Very excited to receive his favorite book, Edwina the Dinosaur Who Didn't Know She Was Extinct

And his favorite new toy, BB-8!

For his birthday dinner, Ryder wanted to eat at Chick-fil-A.  That was PERFECT for the day before Thanksgiving-- not too much food, fast, and the kids could play!  Even Camille managed to go down the big slide!

We got home, had cupcakes put the kids to bed, and got back to work.

I made ice cream while my mother-in-law (and Kendra!) peeled potatoes.  Craig made a pumpkin pie.  Then I boiled and mashed the potatoes while my mother-in-law moved on to peeling apples for apple crisp.  I chopped the apples for a bit, and then Craig took over and finished the crisp.

The next morning, Craig turned on the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade and the kids watched that while we reminisced about the time we went. 

I made rolls.  This is a recipe I only make at Thanksgiving time-- they're super yummy, because you dip the dough in butter before baking them, but because of that, they're also a big mess to make.  And despite the fact that the recipe card says on it, "Impossible to screw up!" me and my sisters have managed to screw it up NUMEROUS times.  (One sister forgot the eggs.  That didn't work so well.  Another sister didn't realize that she needed to soften the yeast in water.  That also didn't work so well.  And one time I added an extra cup of sugar.  That wasn't so terrible-- as you can imagine, they still tasted pretty good!)

Anyway, my rolls this year turned out perfect, so I was pleased.  A few days later, I realized that I didn't let them rise like I was supposed to, but it didn't seem to matter at all.  So I'm still screwing them up, but who cares?

Ryder sampling something...  the dough from the rolls?

It was a nice day, so people played outside with some of Ryder's new toys

Craig made stuffing and then got the turkey in the oven.  His parents arrived and Craig and his mom got back to work on the remaining dishes: broccoli bake, sweet potatoes, and carrots.  They just sort of plugged along getting it all done.  I read my book and bathed kids.  Grandpa played outside with kids.  Grandma washed the china.  I set the table and had Kendra make name cards for each place (I remember LOVING doing that when I was a kid)-- she decorated each one individually, it was so cute!  And before we knew it, everything was ready and it was time to eat!  Just like that!  It didn't feel stressful or anything!

Bentley always claims the drumstick

Friday morning, Craig got up and almost immediately began getting out the Christmas decorations.  I told him he could test-drive cars once the house was decorated and all the boxes put away.  That was the best motivation EVER: he finished in a day and a half!  Two trees, wreaths with bows and candles in the windows.  Holly wound around the banister.  Stockings hung by the chimney (with care).  He did it all.  The house looks so warm and festive!  We even put one of the trees in the basement, so the seminary class could enjoy it-- I hope it makes them as happy as it makes me!

While Craig was hard at work decorating, I was addressing Christmas cards.  I planned to do 20 a day, but then I got antsy and just did all of them.  I've never been this on top of sending out Christmas cards before in my life, so they'll probably get lost in the mail or something, just to teach me to not think I can get things done on time.  (Let me know if you get yours!)(And Craig enjoyed test driving cars Saturday afternoon!  I don't think we'll be buying anything just yet, but it was good to figure out what fits in our garage and what he likes.  Fact finding missions are an important part of the process!  And his car is a '95; it can't last forever...  can it?)


And then, suddenly, it was Ryder's actual birthday!

Birthdays tend to very quickly snowball into Big Things, and it all stresses me out a bit, and this one was no exception.  I began the day (after I got everyone off to school) by leaving super early so we could buy doughnuts for Ryder's class at Spudnuts.  The place just sells out and then closes for the day, so you have to get there early to make sure they've got anything left.  But the joke was on me-- it turns out they don't open on Monday at all!  So I had to race to the grocery store and make do with mini-cupcakes instead.

Then I baked Ryder's cake (it was only 9am at this point!), went to the post office (the stuff of nightmares, this time of year), and hit Costco.  Costco took longer than normal because I was waiting around to get a flu shot, but finally had to give up on that idea.  Camille fell asleep in the car on the way home.  I unloaded groceries while she slept, debated letting her keep napping, but worried the garage was too cold to leave the door open so I'd hear her.  Had to wake her up instead.

I managed to fold laundry and then grab a bowl of cereal for myself, all while talking on the phone with my sister.  Then we headed to Ryder's school to distribute cupcakes.  Unfortunately, our timing was off and we were early, and the teacher didn't want kids eating cupcakes until they'd finished their lunches.  But Colton and Camille were getting nuts.  So I finally handed off the cupcakes to a helper and left.  On the way out, my Mom called, but I quickly discovered that I couldn't talk on the phone AND shepherd two (now feral) kids into the car., and I had to hang up before they got run over in the parking lot.

Got home, put everyone down for naps.  Including myself (just for 15 minutes).  Picked kids up from the bus stop.  Tried to frost Ryder's cake while fielding calls for him from various family members wishing him a happy birthday.

And then it was time for the party!  Craig got home just before it began, thank goodness-- we had 6 kids Ryder's age, plus three Bentley's age, so that makes 14 kids all running around the house!  As you can imagine, it was craziness!  But fun craziness, with pizza and cake and presents.  And everyone-- especially Ryder-- seemed to have a good time.  Whew!

Playing in Ryder's room.

He wanted the frosting to be half chocolate and half vanilla.  So there you go!

Half of them are dabbing

And opening presents

And TODAY, I've been home almost all day making turkey stock and doing laundry.  It's gloomy and rainy outside, so it's a perfect day for this.  The Christmas tree lights are cozy.  And I'm resting up a bit before more of the craziness of Christmas can fully kick in.  I have so much to be thankful for, but right now I'm especially thankful for a calm day with yummy turkey smells.  And the promise of leftover cake later on.

Defending Jefferson

"This institution will be based on the illimitable freedom of the human mind. For here we are not afraid to follow truth wherever it may lead, nor to tolerate any error so long as reason is left free to combat it."  - Thomas Jefferson to William Roscoe, December 27, 1820




Living so close to Monticello and UVA, and listening to Hamilton pretty much all the time, I decided I needed to finally figure out what the deal really WAS with Jefferson and Sally Hemings.  

I'd read the Wikipedia pages, and I knew there were plenty of books out there, but I didn't want to just read one historian's theory, I wanted the facts so I could try and sort it out for myself.  A quick Google search led me to The Jefferson-Hemings Controversy and it was exactly what I was looking for.

Basically, thirteen scholars were commissioned to look at all the evidence and weigh in with what they thought happened.  They were not to be swayed by any biases (and they weren't paid for their work), they were just to look at ALL the facts and draw conclusions.  And NONE of them felt there was conclusive evidence that Jefferson had children with Hemings.  In fact, twelve of them felt quite certain that he had no sexual relation with her at all, and the one dissenting view basically said that he didn't like Jefferson and felt he couldn't be trusted, but even he admitted that there wasn't enough evidence to conclude anything.

But-- wait-- DNA evidence proved it, right?!  

That's what you always hear.  But without exhuming Jefferson's remains (and some of the Hemings ancestors, too), we don't have any way to prove conclusively that Hemings' children were fathered by Thomas Jefferson.  The DNA testing done back in 1998 proved that one of Hemings' children* was a descendant of "a Jefferson male."  Unfortunately, there were at least 24 Jefferson males wandering around Monticello at any given time, so this still doesn't exactly prove anything.  When we toured Monticello, our guide explained that all of Hemings' children were conceived when Thomas Jefferson was around, and so between that fact and the DNA, it was certain they were his children.  But this book explained that yes, Jefferson was always around when Sally conceived, but so were all the other Jefferson males.  When Thomas wasn't at home, he kept Monticello locked up and no one came.  As soon as he returned to Monticello, everyone (seriously, SO MANY PEOPLE) came to visit.

Another interesting note about the DNA evidence is that it was very much used for other political purposes.  History professor Joseph Ellis pushed for the story to be published early so that it would come out the same day that Clinton's impeachment trial began.  Ellis was a huge fan of Bill Clinton and hoped that by "proving" that a founding father also had inappropriate relations, it would lessen the impact of Clinton's affair with Lewinsky.  Ellis greatly exaggerated what the DNA testing actually proved in order to further his political cause.  (It also came out later that he frequently lied during his lectures, telling stories about catching the winning touchdown in high school, being one of the civil rights Freedom Fighters, and even serving in Vietnam, when in reality he did none of these things.  He was suspended a year's pay for his indiscretions.)  This is not to say that the DNA evidence isn't important, but it never conclusively proved anything. 

Some of the other arguments that frequently come up concerning Jefferson and Hemings:

     "Jefferson freed all Hemings' children because they were his."  Not true.  He freed some of them, but not all of them and Sally herself was never freed.  A bunch of other members of the Hemings family (Sally's siblings) WERE freed, especially if they knew a trade and could support themselves.  Sally and a couple of her children were actually unusual in that they were some of the few Hemings family members not to be freed.

     "Servants such as Sally would have had access to Jefferson's bedroom."  Nope.  This one really bothers me: historian Annette Gordon-Reed had a primary source quote about how Sally would have had access to Jefferson's bedroom but she had removed and changed the order of at least a dozen words from the quote in order to completely change its meaning.  Now, it's certainly possible that this was an innocent mistake, but since Gordon-Reed worked on the Harvard Law Review, she ought to know how to properly cite her sources.  I think she was intentionally misleading her readers here, and that's a terrible thing for an historian to do.  The facts are that Jefferson rarely had servants in his room-- he made a point of lighting his own fire every day--  and servants were only allowed in if he wasn't around. 

     "Lots of people around Monticello said Jefferson was involved with Hemings."  The only people who ever made this claim were all people who absolutely hated Thomas Jefferson, and most of them were nowhere near Monticello.  No one who actually lived in Monticello and was close to Jefferson ever made any comment at all of something going on between Jefferson and Hemings.  Seriously-- NO ONE.  And there were THOUSANDS of people visiting and staying at Monticello throughout the course of Jefferson's life.  And they never mentioned Sally Hemings at all.  This astonishing lack of evidence is perhaps most critical.  Some people have tried to claim that this was a conspiracy to hush things up, but it would have had to have been pretty well organized for no one to ever have left any sort of evidence at all.

     "But Jefferson brought Sally to Paris with him!"  Yes, Sally accompanied Jefferson's daughter, Patty, to Paris about a year after Jefferson left.  It's fairly improbable that Sally ever lived with Jefferson, since he lived in a very small, very crowded 2-bedroom townhouse in Paris and there is no mention of her being there.  What's more likely is that Sally stayed with Patty at the boarding school she attended.  The boarding school had servants' quarters and one of Patty's schoolmates made a point of sending her regards to Sally in a letter, so clearly Patty's schoolmates were familiar with Sally.

     "Sally had an arrangement with Jefferson in Paris that any children conceived from their affair would go free.  That's why she stayed with him."  It's certainly possible, but there is no evidence of any of this-- there's no evidence that they had an affair, that there was an arrangement, and if there was an arrangement, certainly it wasn't followed.  This is an interesting story that seems to have been concocted by historians based on no evidence at all.

     "But then, who was the father???"  That's a really tough question, and it's heartbreaking, too.  The DNA evidence does prove that Hemings was involved with more than one man.  As a slave, she really would not have been allowed autonomy of her body-- just about any white man who came to Monticello probably could have used her for sex.  (I'm not even sure that she could refuse other slaves, for that matter.)  And while I'm anxious to not jump to the conclusion that it was Thomas Jefferson doing so, it still breaks my heart that he didn't protect her.  One of the most likely candidates for fathering some of her children is Thomas Jefferson's much younger brother Randolph.  Randolph was about the opposite of Thomas: completely uninterested in politics and current events.  There are eye witness accounts that Randolph enjoyed hanging out in the slave quarters at night (presumably while Thomas Jefferson was in the house talking politics with his many other guests) playing his fiddle and dancing with the slaves.  Also, all of Sally's children were conceived during the time that Randolph was a widower.  After he remarried, Sally never had any more children.  So that's interesting.  (It should also be noted that Thomas Jefferson remained at Monticello for many more years during which time Sally did not have any more children.)

     "There's an oral tradition from Sally's children that Thomas Jefferson was their father."  Sort of.  After the historian Fawn Brodie told them they were Jefferson's children, they began saying so.  Before Brodie told them her theories, their oral tradition was that their father was an uncle of Thomas Jefferson.  This is impossible, because none of Jefferson's uncles were still alive at that time.  BUT, Thomas Jefferson's younger brother, Randolph, was usually referred to as "Uncle Randolph" because he was uncle to Jefferson's children.  So this oral tradition might have referred to him.

      "Some of Sally's children played the fiddle because Jefferson taught them."  This wouldn't really persuade anyone, so it's kind of silly to address it, but I'm feeling feisty, so I will anyway.  Thomas Jefferson absolutely delighted in spending time with his children and grandchildren.  But there is no evidence of him spending any time (or even noticing) the children of his slaves.  It seems odd that there would be such a disconnect, but I guess if you believe he was sleeping with a slave, you've already accepted quite a bit of disconnect on Jefferson's part.  So, Yes, some of Sally's children played the fiddle, but there is no record of them being taught by Thomas.  Also, there weren't a lot of choices in musical instruments in Virginia at this time, so this isn't exactly a huge coincidence.  BUT, it should be noted that Jefferson didn't play the fiddle, he played the violin.  Who did play a fiddle?  Oh, that's right-- his brother, Randolph. 


So there you have it.  I know Jefferson wasn't perfect.  He certainly owned slaves, and while he spent a lot of time fretting about the immorality of the situation, he never freed them all (like Washington did, upon his death).  One of the slaves that Jefferson did free later committed suicide, so I wonder if this didn't make him question if freeing his slaves was even the right course of action.

I feel like our country has so little respect for Jefferson any more, and he deserves better than that.  It seems like the least we can do is try to accept him for who he actually was and stop assuming that these unsubstantiated rumors are true.  The courage it must have taken for him to write the Declaration of Independence still astonishes me-- I can't imagine risking my life and my home and property to stand up against a tyrannical government.  If England would have won, you know he would have been one of their first executions.


I love Jefferson for what he did for our country.  I hope we can honor him for that.

  

*The DNA also proved that another son was NOT a Jefferson at all, so it definitively proved that not all of Hemings' children were conceived by Thomas Jefferson, although it is still possible that some of them were.  Hemings had other children, but they were able to pass as white and disappeared into society, so we have no way of testing their descendants' DNA now.

Why I've Been Ignoring My Blog

Last week was a perfect storm, mostly of my own doing.  Tuesday we had Young Women in Excellence, an annual event where we recognize the girls' various achievements.  It's one of those things that takes way more work behind the scenes than you really think it ought to.  It required several planning meetings, lots of contacting parents to get information from them, organizing food, making food and trying to figure out how to keep it warm in a totally gross church kitchen...  And decorating.  And none of those are things that I particularly excel at.

But I dutifully showed up (after babysitting for a friend all morning!) and twisted and hung crepe paper to look like a sun.  And I made a batch of stuffed French toast, decided it might not be enough, and made another batch.  (Our theme was "Arise and Shine Forth" so we served breakfast foods-- everybody loves breakfast!)

And the evening went beautifully.

THEN, the next day I had signed up to feed the missionaries, not knowing that Craig would be gone all day in DC on a field trip (and, actually, not knowing it would be YW in Ex. the day before, either-- that was supposed to have happened the previous week!).  So we had to bring the meal to the missionaries and-- of course-- they live 30 minutes away out in the middle of farmlands, so not only did I have to spend an hour driving during dinner time, once we gave them their meal, my GPS stopped working and I had to try and remember how to get us home.  In the dark.

I actually only took one wrong turn, and quickly figured out my mistake (because we suddenly were on a road with no line down the middle-- I knew that wasn't right).  So we did pretty well, all things considered.  But it made for a very long and stressful evening.

And then Thursday morning I was teaching seminary.  That went fine, I thought I'd get to relax and enjoy the rest of the day, and then it all fell apart on me.

I spent Friday babysitting while my friend taught seminary, then talking on the phone a lot, and finally cleaning my house.  Craig and I got to "chaperone" the school play that night, which was kind of fun and kind of boring.  (And thanks to my in-laws who not only babysat for us, but also bought us all dinner before the play!)  The play was Little Women, which I love, but it's pretty long and it's hard for amateurs to keep the energy up in something like that.  And it didn't help that the auditorium was cooking at about 100 degrees.  But really, the kids did a great job, all things considered.  The play cut off a bit early in the story-- it ended right after Beth dies, so we didn't get the closure of Amy marrying Laurie and Jo finally finding a writing career (and love!) in New York.  That seemed a bit of a shame, but after 2.5 hours of sitting in that hot theater, I wasn't going to complain.

Saturday was our LAST day of SOCCER GAMES.  Soccer season is finally over, folks!  I can't wait to get back to having evenings with my children all home, not having to worry about who needs to be where at what time and is it my turn to drive and is someone napping and how do I feed everyone AND get them to and from soccer!  I'm even MORE excited to get our Saturday mornings back, and maybe even spend them together as a family, rather than splitting up and trying to make sure that the littlest ones end up at the game where there's a playground for them.

Soccer has been the biggest hassle ever.  I think next autumn we won't bother.  I'd like to try to do some outings instead-- October mornings are usually perfect weather for places I want to visit, like Montpelier and the Richmond Zoo.  And just doing yard work with everyone outside.  That's how I want my Fall Saturdays to be spent.

Sorry, soccer.


I have more to report on from that Saturday, but this blog post is long enough and you get the idea.  Last week was nuts.  I am definitely looking forward to having time together with the whole family this week.

About Tuesday...

Baz Luhrmann is good for everything.

A Tiny Poke at Politics

I've purposely kept my blog apolitical this election season.  While I enjoy discussing politics in person with friends where we can agree to disagree at times, I find it very hard to do so in the same friendly spirit online.  So I usually just don't go there.  (And when I break that rule, I usually regret it immediately.)

And I'm still not going there with this post, either.  I just want to say one (sort of strange) thing: I find myself envying the people who are firmly in Hilary's camp.  Her politics are basically the opposite of mine, so she was never going to have my vote.  But the people who do agree with her politics and are so eager to see her elected have such a wonderful hope for the future.  I wish I could feel that way for anyone on the ballot, too.

Totally on the Fence

(I meant to publish this yesterday, but the day got away from me...)

Is it just me, or has Halloween (just like everything else) become more and more polarized?

I feel like there are a lot of people out there who just HATE Halloween.  They're the people writing in to Dear Prudence complaining that because they live in a well-to-do neighborhood, too many kids from the poor part of town come around looking for free candy.  And the people who are infuriated that teenagers want to go trick-or-treating when they are obviously too old for it.  And there are people who just hate it even in the best of circumstances-- I just heard that the bishop in my hometown refuses to have a Halloween party, making it a Fall Festival instead.  (Not sure why, since the CHURCH isn't against it.  But whatever...)

And there also seem to be a lot of people who absolutely LOVE Halloween.  They go nuts decorating their entire front yard, and even the front of their house for it.  (We just saw a house that had its own radio station playing Halloween music, with synchronized lighting to boot!)  They spend months planning and creating family-themed costumes.  Just the mention of Halloween brings squeals of delight from these people.

And then there's me.  Right smack dab in the middle.  I'm too lazy (and apparently not creative OR crafty enough) to come up with awesome costumes for my kids.  They usually get whatever we happen to find at Target/Wal-Mart/Costco, or a hand-me-down costume from an older sibling.  I usually don't bother with a costume for myself at all.  I think the last time I dressed up was when I was pregnant with Kendra...  (I did dress up last night, though-- I figured out I could probably pull off a Rosie the Riveter costume.  But I only came up with that after seeing on facebook that a friend had done so a few years back.  And then that same friend bought me a red handkerchief to tie around my head because I was too lazy to look for one myself!  AND IT'S NOT EVEN MY IDEA!!!)

So, yeah, I'm pretty lame when it comes to costumes.  But at the same time, I really do love seeing the amazing costumes other people come up with!  A few years ago, a friend of mine dressed her whole family like characters in How to Train Your Dragon and it was fantastic!  The viking costume for her husband, the older son as Hiccup, and the younger son as Toothless-- I wouldn't even know where to start on any of those costumes, and she'd done an amazing job on it all!  And last Friday, at the high school football game, a girl in the drumline had dressed herself up as a pink bunny (NOT a sexy bunny, just a plain pink bunny) and slapped an Energizer sticker on her base drum and I thought it was brilliant!  Simple, but awesome!

I love seeing what other people do.  I just don't care enough to put in the effort myself.

At the same time, I don't understand the hatred against Halloween, either.  For example: Why would anyone have a problem with teenagers trick-or-treating?  In this world where everyone wants them to grow up so fast, I'm fine with teens holding on to a few vestiges of their childhood.  I can think of a whole lot worse things they could be doing instead.  I will admit that kids asking for candy without wearing any costume at all sort of irritate me.  I'll give them candy anyway (because I don't want them to come back and egg my house), but I don't like it.  And that bishop who won't hold a ward Halloween party-- really?  People already think Mormons are weird enough without giving them the impression that Halloween is against our religion, also!  Please don't make us look weirder than we actually are! 

So, yeah, I feel like I'm right smack dab in the middle of the love and hate that flies around at the end of October.  No, that's not true-- I come down squarely in the "love it" camp.  I mean, what's not to love about a holiday that involves creativity and free candy?  It's just a very lazy kind of love, that's all.


I guess the bonus to forgetting to publish this yesterday is now I can tack on a couple pictures of our family:

L-R, we have a cow, Clark Kent, a witch, a ghost, a dragon, and an old man

Ryder is such a dapper dragon.  And look-- I dressed up this year!  I would have been flexing if I hadn't been carrying a cow...!

Snowballing

Last spring, our bishop asked Craig how to go about finding a room at the nearby high school where their seminary class could meet.  Craig told him who to contact and then privately asked me if we should offer our basement if that didn't work out.  We hemmed and hawed for a bit, but finally decided to do it.  Our basement has a private entrance, so it's really not a big deal: the teacher and students (there are only three of them) park in our driveway and I know they're down there, but I don't really see them at all.  And the teacher, Sister Demek, is very nice about vacuuming any mess they've left and stuff like that.  I try to keep the little kids quiet when they're meeting, but the big kids have already left for school (since the elementary school starts before the high school here). 

As my kids like to say, Easy Peasy.

But, of course, nothing is ever really that easy.  Because right as we got that all planned, the bishop also asked if I'd be willing to be a substitute teacher for the class.  Sister Demek, it turns out, is also a temple worker, but since the temple is more than two hours away, she manages this by going every other week and working for two days.  So they needed a sub for four days each month.  That didn't seem too hard, so I said I'd be willing.  They asked a friend of mine who lives close by to also be a substitute, with the understanding that we would take turns teaching and watching each other's children.  It seemed like a good system.

And then, when they officially extended the calling to me, they casually mentioned, "Oh, yeah, it will be just four days a month.  And also January and February, when Sister Demek will be out of town."  And I was like, "Oh, okay-- wait, wha...?"  I assumed they meant for a couple weeks of both January and February, but no, they actually meant ALL of January AND February.  And the first week of March, too.

And then my co-sub announced that she'd be gone for six weeks over the Christmas holiday (this has since been shortened to just five weeks, thank goodness).

And now Sister Demek had a death in her family, and will be gone for a week and a half for the funeral. 

And I'm sort of wondering what I've gotten myself into.


Don't get me wrong-- I actually enjoy teaching.  This morning was my 3rd time doing it, and I got to teach Luke 2, which makes me happier than just about anything else in the world.  So that was great.  And the students are really good kids who are happy to participate, so that makes everything easier.  But trying to prepare a lesson with children around is nearly impossible, so lesson prep has been relegated to being a night-time activity.  And I have to admit-- the time when all my kids are in bed and I can truly relax is fairly precious to me.  So that's a bit of a sacrifice.

And watching my co-sub's kids isn't hard-- her 4-year-old plays fine with Colton and her baby is super cute (even though Camille is afraid of her).  But...  well, there's a reason I've never babysat to earn extra cash, and it's because I don't really like watching other people's kids!  I'd rather just do what I do with only my own children with me.  And having to spoon feed someone else's toddler (who is the slowest eater I've ever seen-- if she were my baby, she'd probably starve to death because I'd just give up) is a bit of a drag, honestly (especially since I'm finally NOT having to spoon-feed Camille any more!).  And now I feel like I'm just being a whiny grump.

So, yeah, it's fine.  I'm fine.  Everything is fine.

It's hard having this many feelings!

But it's not easy, either.  I should have known that it wouldn't be as easy as simply offering up our basement.

Parenting Fails and Wins

After his soccer game on Saturday, I insisted that Bentley take a shower.  He did so, but left his dirty clothes on the floor of my bathroom.  I've been trying to teach my kids to put their dirty clothes in the hamper, insisting that I won't wash things that aren't in the hamper.  I really don't think that's asking too much, but based on the nagging I have to do each time to accomplish this, apparently it is.  So THIS time, rather than say anything about it, I just left the dirty clothes on the floor and washed everything else.

Then yesterday, at his practice, I realized that he was wearing those same shorts again!  Gross!  I made sure he showered after that, too.  And then today, after he'd left for school, as I collected laundry from the various hampers (we're up to three, now), I realized that they weren't in any of the hampers.  Which meant he'd worn them to school without my noticing.  And they still haven't been washed.

My kid is probably the gross, smelly kid at school.

Those shorts are so loved.  And they are pulled up so high...

So the minute he walked through the door today, Bentley got a lesson in how to do laundry.  His shorts are in the washing machine right now, of his own doing.

One of these days I WILL get through to him.  (AND HIS FUTURE WIFE WILL THANK ME.  No, actually, she probably won't.  But I like telling myself this anyway...)

I'm still trying to decide if I should make him shower again...




P.S. This is also why I don't bother buying a lot of clothes for my kids-- Bentley has PLENTY of other shorts he could wear, but this pair is his favorite, so he wears them all the time and acts like I'm the meanest parent of all time if he has to wear something else (even if it's the pair of shorts that were his favorite, before he got this newest pair).  I shouldn't buy him any other clothes at all.

For the "Who Do You Think I Am?" Department

Some time in the last year I noticed that my hardwood floors didn't look nearly as good as they did when we first moved in.  Which is not surprising, considering how many people we have stomping through (often with dirty shoes) all day long.  I remembered that when we moved out of our old house, our realtor polished up our floors and had them looking better than I'd ever seen, so I decided I would hunt down the brand she used and start using it on our floors now.

I actually remembered the name (Orange Glo, I believe), found it, and bought it.

Then, before I used it for the first time, I read the label.  Where it very clearly warns that it should NOT be used more than once a month.



I'm still laughing about that!

Falling in Love with Charlottesville

We've been in Charlottesville for over a year now, and I've wanted to write more about this town for a while, so I guess it's time I did it.  Because I absolutely LOVE Charlottesville.  Charlottesville has become home to me.  And I find it rather amazing.  I feel like it began as a small crush and bloomed into full-grown love, and I sort of want to document it all. 

So let's go back a bit-- because Manassas felt like home and I loved living there.  So it's not like I was anxious to leave.  But every time we traveled to other places, I'd sort of wish we could live there for one reason or another: when we went to Seattle, it was so beautiful there, I longed to move back home.  And in California, I loved how cheerful everyone seemed to be and how perfect the weather always was.  And who could visit Texas and South Carolina without coveting those huge, incredibly inexpensive houses?  So we'd return to Manassas and I'd always be happy to be back in our home and surrounded by wonderful friends, but I couldn't help but notice that compared to those other places, Manassas was severely lacking in trees, and mountains, and ocean, and affordability.  Instead, it had lots of traffic.  And was really expensive.

We visited Charlottesville a couple times years before Craig ever applied for a job here.  Once, we came with Craig's parents to take Bentley and Kendra to a children's museum here.  And another time we visited Grandpa in the hospital after he'd had surgery.  Both times we thought it was a cute town and liked it, but I didn't give it a whole lot of thought beyond that.

When Craig started looking for administrative positions, he mentioned that he had his eye on Albemarle County (which is a mouthful to say!) and I said, "Where's that?"  I knew we were interested in Loudon County (great schools with lots of money!) and Fauquier County (pretty good schools, and a county you can't say without sounding like you're swearing!), but I'd never even heard of Albemarle.  Craig explained, "That's where Charlottesville is!" and I said, "Oh, I liked Charlottesville!  You should definitely look for jobs there!"

But I never really thought it would actually happen!

When I told people in Manassas where we were moving, they all would immediately say, "Oh, Charlottesville is such a cute town!  Lucky you!"  And I hoped they were right.  I was pretty sure they were right.  But it was a done deal, so it didn't really matter, and I knew I would make the best of it no matter what.

But each time we drove down from Manassas, as we passed farms all along Route 29 on the way south, I was blown away by the beauty of it all.  And when we found our house, I loved how charming the treed hills were, with houses peaking out here and there.  I knew I'd found something pretty good.

It's taken me months to get to know the area, and I'm still discovering new things all the time.  But here's what I've figured out so far:

-Charlottesville has a nice small town feel-- we constantly bump into neighbors and friends when we're out and about-- but it has a lot going on.  I think we mostly have the University of Virginia to thank for all that, but there are a plenty of festivals and concerts and things happening all the time, if you know where to look for them.  There also aren't a ton of towns nearby because there's a lot of country and farms surrounding us, and then there are mountains separating us from Waynesboro and other places, so it feels like a very tight-knit community.  (As opposed to some places where you have so much suburban spread you really can't tell when you go from one town to the next.)  And the people here love Charlottesville, so there's a lot of pride in the area, and that's really nice.  Growing up on an island, it was impossible not to have a strong sense of community, so it's something I appreciate here, now.

-I LOVE Carter Mountain.  Carter Mountain is what I see across the way when I drive down the hill away from our house-- a sparkling green mountain that, on rainy days, gets covered in fog.  It's not a huge impressive mountain like you get in the western half of the country (it took me a very long time to even call it a mountain at all!) but it's definitely bigger than a hill!  And it's lovely.  And I love my view of it every day.  I also love going there-- it's a short, steep drive to the top, where on Thursday nights in the summer, they have live music at sunset.  The view is spectacular and the atmosphere is relaxed and happy.  And there are yummy, over-priced peach doughnuts and ice cream for the kids to beg me to buy for them.  (Sometimes I give in...)

-In the winter time, I love being able to see the Blue Ridge Mountains out beyond our backyard.  That's my trade off for when the trees lose all their leaves.  (And it also makes up for being able to see I-64!)

-I love the people here.  Thanks to UVA, we've got a great mix of well educated professionals, but lots of southern hospitality, too (and I'm not gonna lie, a fair amount of rednecks who cruise around in huge trucks covered with hunting bumper stickers).  I remember last year, overhearing some parents at a soccer game saying something about robotics.  I was ready to jump into the conversation, assuming they were talking about a robotics club at their kids' schools.  Luckily I waited a moment longer and figured out -- before I made an idiot of myself!-- that they were both surgeons and were talking about doing surgery robotically.  And that's when it hit me that I never met a doctor in Manassas who actually lived there.  In fact, at my kids' school (which was a good school!), almost everyone were blue collar workers.  No lawyers, no doctors...  It's nice having all kinds of people in your town.

-I love our Costco.  That's a stupid thing to mention, but when we first moved here, the nearest Costco was over an hour away and I thought I was going to die.  But within three weeks of our move, a new one opened up right in the heart of town, and that made me SO happy.  Better yet, since it's still new, there aren't that many members, so it's fairly empty all the time.  You can even shop there on a Saturday without winding up hating all of humanity, so that's pretty awesome.  I do love Costco (when it's not too crowded)!

-I like the music scene.  At first I was sort of appalled that there were only about three radio stations to listen to (there's a lot more if you like country, but I refuse to go there).  But those three radio stations are actually pretty good.  They play stuff I liked when I was in high school that I NEVER heard on the radio (and only knew of because I had a super cool older sister who controlled the radio in the car) and they play current stuff, as well.  I've even had a couple times where my little sister will mention a new song she likes and I'VE ACTUALLY HEARD IT!!!  That hasn't happened since I was a freshman in college or something!  And, of course, Dave Matthews Band is from Charlottesville, so we had to go when they put on a concert here and it was fabulous.  So that's pretty fun, too!

-They have good parks for the kids.  I feel like there was at least ten years where every playground in the country was build by the same manufacturer and they were all SO BORING...  It makes me happy when you find a little variety.
 

Not your standard playground equipment!

I LOVE this splash pad in the summer!

This is actually at a Mennonite grocery store halfway between Charlottesville and Culpeper.  They have a bunch of farm animals for the kids to look at, including this awesome climbing structure for the goats!

-I love how pretty it is here.   Growing up in Seattle, I just NEED trees to feel like I can breathe properly.  Northern Virginia was green enough to keep me happy, but here it feels downright lush.  I never get tired of gazing at trees.

Can't remember where exactly I took this picture, but I love it...

Our backyard

A flowering dogwood, which are abundant here (and which there's a festival for!), in our backyard

This was the location of the cub scout's Raingutter Regatta.  A member's house in Crozet-- the next town over-- sits right next to this river!  Breathtaking...

-I actually like our HOA here, too.  I originally told our realtor that I wanted a place with no HOA, since my experience with them was that they take your money and then harass you if you forget to mow your lawn or paint your shudders the wrong color.  But ours has been great so far-- we've got a fun pool, it's not that expensive per month, and no one's ever said anything to us about the state of our property, even when we were keeping chickens!  They also organize several community events each year (block parties and yard sales and other things) and usually keep the pool stocked with otter pops.  What's to complain about?

-Thomas Jefferson's home, Monticello, is literally five minutes from our house.  While I didn't particularly love our most recent tour, I have a great admiration for Thomas Jefferson and plan on visiting many more times.  I just finished reading a report on whether or not they think he fathered children with his slave Sally Hemings and I am CONVINCED that he didn't.  Which made me happy.  And which I might blog more about soon.  And even if you aren't a huge fan of Jefferson, Monticello is still lovely and great history!

-I love the downtown mall, too.  Now, to clarify, I actually hate shopping and I hate malls.  But the downtown mall is an outdoor walking mall, full of restaurants with outdoor seating, and it's just fun.  One time, we went to get ice cream, and this man promptly set down some ply wood and began tap dancing on it.  He tapped for a good hour, sometimes with his son joining in.  It was a GREAT way to enjoy ice cream on a hot summer evening!

Speaking of ice cream, my absolute favorite chocolate and peanut butter ice cream can be found at Chaps, right here in the downtown mall.  And I've sampled a LOT of chocolate and peanut butter ice creams, so I'm becoming quite the authority in this matter.  (I highly recommend the Target brand, too, if you don't think you'll be able to make down to Charlottesville any time soon!)

Chaps!

Now, I know that Charlottesville isn't perfect.  I've learned that it's a really bad idea to leave the house at 9am, because-- for a small town-- there is a LOT of traffic at that time.  (Although coming from northern Virginia, the C-ville version of "traffic" is still a laugh!)  And I wish the stores opened as early as school started, since I rush around getting the kids out the door, and then find myself with two hours to wait until Costco opens.  And I wish the library was closer and kept more normal hours (why don't they open until noon on Mondays and Tuesdays???) (But the drive-in window makes up for a lot of that frustration)...  But it's got so many wonderful things that I'm willing to put up with a few annoyances.



I always told Craig that if we ever got the chance to move to Seattle, we were going to take it.  Seattle has always been where my heart was.  But now that we're here...  And knowing just how expensive Seattle has gotten in the last few years (and Bainbridge Island even more so!)...  We might just be in Charlottesville to stay!

At least, I hope so!