Food for Thought

We just finished up a very Portland-y weekend. We visited Powell's, the largest bookstore in the world, then the farmer's market, then the Saturday market. I think Portland may have the most markets in the world too.

Lars tried to steal a pepper from the farmer's market. So, as a reward, we bought an ice cream cone to share at the Saturday market.

Speaking of stealing-- we saw the funniest thing while at the Saturday Market. I will try to re-enact it for you (in words):

As Tor and I were strolling through the Saturday Market an obnoxious man, with an equally obnoxious bike bell, starts dinging it incessantly at a little old lady in front of him. She finally hears him and gets out of the way. The man says "I was dinging my bell a lot for you to move, couldn't you hear me? I was dinging it a lot." I thought for a minute or two about saying something, but I am practicing restraint in the area of stranger anger, the little old lady was fine, and I think he may have been high.

***I'd like to digress at this point and state that I really don't like bikers, they think the little "share the road" stickers they wear are for themselves and cars, forgetting the hapless pedestrians that get in their way, and act altogether entirely too superior for my liking. My husband is a biker and I point this out to him daily. Plus the whole bell thing really pisses me off. I understand using it on paths and trails to indicate that you are quickly approaching on the left. I don't understand why some feel it can take the place of all communication. Especially in crowded areas where you should not be riding a bike. Anyway, back to the story.***

About 15 minutes later we see this guy run up to the bad man on the bike (or BMOTB from here on out) and start yelling at him that you don't steal bikes in this town. The BMOTB says he didn't steal it that the bike is his. The other guy says, and I quote, "You see this f-ing shirt I'm wearing, you see this f-ing hat I'm wearing, it matches the f-ing logo on the f-ing bike. Obviously it's my f-ing bike, you f-ing idiot." The BMOTB and he fight for a few more minutes and then finally the other guy just takes the bike and leaves. The BMOTB grumbles a little but doesn't really act too upset that "his" bike just got stolen by some other guy. We sit down to eat our ice cream cone near the fountain at the market and the BMOTB (without the B now) walks up to the couple next to us and says: "Can I have some change, I don't do drugs or anything." When the people give him a buck he decides they're on his side and he tells him the sad story of his bike. It goes like this, "Some guy just accused me of stealing his bike. Yeah. He just came up to me and started yelling and took the bike. I mean, I was just walking along and there was this bike sitting there with no lock on it or nothing. Just sitting there. No one was around or nothing. So I took it. I mean there was no lock or nothing. And then that guy says it's his bike. But if it was his bike why wasn't there a lock on it or something?"

Hmm... Good point. I will remember that the next time I want a new pair of shoes. "But there wasn't a price tag on them or nothing. I mean if you're gonna sell something don't you think you should put a price tag on it or something?"

He asked us for some money too, but we were heartless and said no.

Here are some pictures from that day.

If only I were a little taller, thievery would be so much easier.

Thanks mom!

Yay! But now that I've got it, what do I do with it?

Maybe I eat it!!!

Facebook Update: You may remember from a few posts back that I said that Wiley Driskill would not be my Facebook friend. Well, he still won't, but now Facebook is giving me updates on who he WILL be friends with. Evil, evil Facebook.

A Great Christmas Idea

I have a great Christmas idea out there for anyone who just doesn't know what to get that very special person in their life who likes to keep everything. Tor has a problem throwing anything away, especially his favorite running t-shirts from high school and college. We came up with the idea of turning them into a blanket that was actually useful and could show off his running days and all the competitions he was in. I will give step-by-step directions to anyone who wants to tackle this project on their own, or I will be happy to design and sew you one to give as a gift. Please facebook me or send me a comment if you are interested in a t-shirt quilt for yourself or someone else!

Facebook Killed the Blogging Star

I have a confession. I am a Facebook addict. I am also the world's biggest hypocrite. After more than a year of yelling/swearing/begging Tor to stay off the stupid thing I have succombed to its powers. I check it first thing in the morning and last thing at night and about every 10 minutes in between. I stalk the friends I already have (I look at their walls, their photos, their friends, I try to look at their friends' walls) and I look for friends I haven't had for years. I am neglecting my house, the bills, the kid, and sometimes when my addiction becomes too much I give in to the ultimate in degradation and Facebook in front of the husband (who yells warranted profanity at me).

I look up people from the past and I compare the then picture in my brain with the now picture staring at me from the computer screen. I am gleeful when they look fatter, homelier, older than I do and I am somewhat sad when they have that killer body I didn't even have on my wedding day. I am a little happy when I see that those "popular" kids from my high school seem to have peaked the day we all graduated, but I can honestly say I am happier when I see someone who has made a life for themself outside of those days and looks like they are doing well. My obsession has become so deluded that I actually friended someone I went to school with but didn't recognize or remember and then googled her to figure out who she was. It took me a week.

It has even killed the blog. Why blog anymore? No one pays attention anyway. You can get the shorter version thru Facebook. Those little updates are all anyone really needs. We don't want a three page diatribe when it can all be summed up in two words. Where else is it cool to speak in third person? Where else does someone think telling the whole world they are going to bed is interesting? I have 100 friends on Facebook, I have 10 people who read my blog and 11 of those are related to me. Why go on?

I'll tell you why. Video may have killed the radio star for a while, but not forever. MTV doesn't even play music videos anymore. The last time I watched a music video I had braces and still had a crush on Wiley Driscoll (who, according to Facebook, has a kid, but won't friend me back). The last time I listened to a favorite tune was just this morning, on Pandora. No videos anywhere.  I predict a blog revolution. People everywhere rising up and wanting to hear what their friends really have to say... I predict the end of an era.

But I wouldn't bank on it. Not enough people read my blog.

Lars Pooped on the Floor, Happy Birthday to Me

My birthday was a fun filled event. Lars pooped on the floor for the first time, we went camping, and celebrated with a nice dinner at Portland City Grill... in no particular order.

Turning 31 is pretty awesome. It is so much stinkin' older than 30. It's crazy. At 30 you can still cling to a whiff of your twenties. You can pretend and shrug it off, but when 31 hits and you wake up and realize that you have been in your 30's for a whole year, well, it's a bit of a bummer. I still talk to Tor about wanting to do this or that when we grow up... not sure when that is gonna be. Soon I'm sure. But I digress. I think what makes 31 so awesome is that on my birthday Lars pooped on the floor. Tor thought it was dog poop at first, but we don't have one of those so we're pretty sure of the culprit. After that little incident we are pretty nervous at the beach. We cleaned up the little spot, got all spiffied up and went to dinner at Portland City Grill. It was marvelous. Everyone there was celebrating a birthday, so it was a little like a really expensive chuck-e-cheese, but the food was amazing and the view -- stupendous!

We went camping again this weekend. Great fun. I wrangled the air mattress and pack n play into the tent so we were comfy cozy. The air mattress went flat halfway thru the night so we slept in a sloshy pool of air for most of the night. This post is a bit jumbled so here are pictures to better explain everything.

Birthday macaroons and roses from Tor

My favorite picture ever!

Camping at Oxbow Park in Portland

Lars eating sand and peanut butter. Yummy.

Smores. Mmmm

Very friendly deer. We figure someone must feed him. Her?

It's Brokey

So... It's been a hard week. First I cut myself slicing tomatoes (Tor sharpened the knives so it's his fault) and then I broke my Toe. Which is also Tor's fault. Here's how:

I was going pee and I heard the phone ring. I was so excited to talk to someone other than Lars who only says jibber-jabber, points, and sometimes whines that I jumped up off the toilet (I was done) and ran with my pants around my ankles to the next room. Well, I tripped over my pants and when I went to correct myself I accidentally kicked the door, wedging the jam in between my pinkie toe and the toe next to it. My pinkie went right. The rest of my foot stayed left. I answered the phone and Tor simply said Hi. Like he had no idea what just happened. Like he had no idea how much trouble I went thru just to answer the phone.

I thought I had just jammed my toe, so while cussing I looked at it and said, "Oh man Tor-- I just broke my toe."

"Nuh-uh". Pause. "Are you serious?"

"Well... It's pointed the wrong direction. I think so. Crap, do I have to go to the hospital? It's just a toe?"

"Yeah, I think you should, I'll ask my attending and you ask Julia. Call me back".

After four doctors and a PA told me to go to the ER I reluctantly did. I knew they were just going to tape it to the other one, but you should always listen to a medical professional, and really listen to five. I hobbled to the car (parked 1/2 mile away because I'm too cheap to pay for parking and way too cheap to pay for a cab) and drove myself to the ER with Lars because I didn't want to inconvenience anyone, where I valeted said car and checked myself in. They took xrays, lidocained my toe, pulled it out and taped it to my other toe. Easy-peasy afternoon. My discharge instructions were to wear hard soled shoes and not exercise, and if it turns blue and gets cold to come back in.

I am such a sucker.

Lessons learned:
1. Do not run for phone when peeing. No one is that important.
2. ALWAYS shave your legs.
3. If you know in your heart that "they" are just going to tape your toe, listen to your heart and stay at home.
4. This is the most important: ALWAYS refuse lidocaine. That stuff burns like Hell. It was worse than child birth. Just have then yank it like in the old west. Worse case scenario you wake up later having passed out from the pain.

Other notes:

Tor later told me he knew that's all they were going to do, but he didn't want to be the one responsible if my toe ended up looking weird for life. Just like a Dr. to think of himself and HIS bottom line even with his own wife. I'm totally suing!

The triage nurse had no sense of humor or any personality what-so-ever. If you don't watch it honey, "they're" gonna replace you with a cost saving machine.

My phone dictionary only has brokey in it and not broken. Apparently it was programmed... not here. (Maybe someone from the deep south reads my blog, I don't want to offend)

I am just another example of the whole you can bring a horse to water but can't make it drink phenom. Even if we somehow manage to insure all of the U.S. (which I'm not opposed to, all you "crazy" liberals out there who think just because I'm skeptical of the current ideas in congress I must be a hard-hearted neo-religious zealot) how are we going to make sure that they/we don't all continue to utilize the highest costing path (the ER) for simple little toe problems???? If I had a PCP and a neighborhood clinic I would have totally called them and asked their advice. But I don't and I probably won't. I'm not proud, just an example.

The end. Rant over.

It's Been a Long Time Baby

So sorry to have kept my readership hanging, but it has been a busy time in the Sand-Bottom household. Yes... that is the first tidbit of news-- Tor and I have decided to modernize our name and household and hyphenate. We will now be Dr. and Mizz Tor & Leah Sand-Bottom, Lars will also be a Sand-Bottom, or in his case a Sand/Poo-Bottom :~ Just kidding... we will stay the Sandvens, for now anyway.

We have had a delightful summer hanging with friends and family, new and old, and reminiscing about this time last year when a screaming, peeing, pooping machine entered our lives (and our hearts) and forever changed us.


Lars was born LAST August and one whole crazy year has already gone by. Little did we know (like every prospective parent) how much this little person would change our lives. I also realize how easy I could take this all for granted. I can easily see myself one day waking up on the sofa in a strange hotel room in a wine-induced haze, realizing that my son has just married the girl of his dreams (and hopefully not my nightmares) and the last fifty years have just flown by. (Yes I meant fifty. It's my fantasy and in it Lars lives at home until then.) So I have decided to remind myself of all the wonder-filled moments of the last year in one simple paragraph.


Water breaks in hot-tub, rush to the hospital, epidural please! Baby Lars is born at 4:40 am on the 4th, rush home, Tylenol with codeine please! This thing is ours? Sleep please?! Pee on the floor, pee on the bed, pee on dad, poo on the floor, poo on the bed, aren't diapers supposed to keep this stuff in? First smile, first laugh, roll to the front, roll to the back, first trip, first crawl, sleep please? First solid food, man that poop smells, first surgery, standing up, falling down, first steps, first word (maybe?). First birthday. Sleep pretty please???


My sweet little Lars,
Someday when you are grown up and read this (if the internet is still around and if someone hasn't deleted this blog) I hope you get how much your dad and I love you. I mean, hopefully we've told you a lot, and this isn't your first inkling, more like a final affirmation that you are LOVED. We loved you before you had a personality, or good looks, or a sense of humor, or monetary value. We loved you before you could love us back. When the world tries to convince you that love is for all those other things, all those other reasons, remember that you were loved before you were formed, that you were made by God and entrusted to us, and that we loved you when you pooped yourself.

Love, Mom and Dad

Here are a few more pics from the summer:

Camping with Jan, Ann-Mari, and cousin Sara

Lars' prison

That is the cutest outfit ever!!! Nice present too.

Lars helping his dad install the baby safety devices with a power drill

Lars pretending to be an Orangutan

Me and Jeanne

Jeanne and Lars slippin' and a slidin'

First Kiss

We met this little baby outside of our apartment building the other day. She was VERY taken with Lars and he with her. They literally (Tor hates that word, but I think I am using it correctly... all you ESL'ers out there can let me know) couldn't keep their hands off of each other. Lars' exuberance usually scares away the opposite sex, but she couldn't get enough of him. We think it would be totally awesome if they met up 20 years from now.