The One Where She Couldn’t Take It

Cam is packing for Cherry Cove, Catalina Island. She leaves tomorrow. She informed me this morning that she is not allowed to bring a spear gun, chewing gum, sheep knives or sunflower seeds. I don’t even know what a sheep knife is. But she is upstairs reluctantly unpacking her spear gun as we speak.

Okay, so apparently she said SHEATH knives... that makes a lot more sense. I think.

The One Where it Isn’t Me This Time

Yeah. Not. My. Hand. Not this time. I have messed up my hands more in the last year than I have in the twenty before that. But this time it’s not me. It has been a week since I posted, because my life is boring, and this week has really been about everybody else, anyway.

So the burnt hand… belongs to this one:

I know the photo’s a little blurry. It’s an iPhone photo of a picture on the wall as you walk inside the band hall at the MCRD in San Diego, where LCpl. McD is the most junior band member. Yesterday, he cleared a huge hurdle, passing off the 32 songs he is required to memorize in his first month in the band. Most often, they don’t pass the first time, and paperwork follows them around for the ensuing month. So Ethan was extremely happy and relieved to pass. This is him playing on Friday... they did some pretty cool stuff. (He is clearly visible in this shot. Click it big, and maybe you can pick him out. Think French horn.)

So yesterday he passed his big test. And then this morning while ironing his uniform the iron fell on his hand and he has second-degree burns. He is SIQ today. Sick In Quarters. Believe me, I can feel for him… but it could have been worse. A lot of the guys in the barracks drink until they get stupid and start burning themselves on purpose with cigarette lighters.

Dillon sounds like he has pneumonia. He went to seminary this morning, but now I have to take him to the doctor for asthma meds.

This is a picture of something Skippy made me this week.

Do you know what it is? It is a window. So that I can watch him. Haha! I love that. I will just be sitting here working on music, and he will come in and say, “Mom, do you want me to bring you your window?” Awesome.

Cam is getting ready for a trip to Catalina Island to do science camp, kayaking, etc. at Cherry Cove.

I have a recording job coming up this weekend that looks to be pretty challenging. I may be pulling a couple of all-nighters to finish it. This is the third project that I am “producing” in my home studio. Yes, people pay me money to do it! How cool is that? This one is in French, so I probably won’t know what is going on half the time, but I am good at faking it.

I know, boring post. But look what I have to work with.

Entry Number Two: The One Where Mom Went to Her Happy Place

It’s me, Cam…and I get to do a guest post today. I took pictures of my mom in her happy place. Her happy place is in this little triangle between her piano keyboard and her computer. She loves the computer so much she would probably marry it, if she wasn’t already married. Now, for the photos du jour: I took them, and then my mom and I fixed them up in Photoshop. We didn’t take out the wrinkles or the gray hair, though…heh heh heh… click on the photos to see them GIGANTIC and you can see. What we did do was play with the lighting a little bit…it is pretty dark in my mom’s happy place. AND on one of the photos, we did my favorite thing, which is called desaturating. We took the color down by 90%. But I wanted my mom’s eyes to stay blue, so she selected them first and only desaturated the rest of the photo. Cool, right?


My mom’s eyes are pretty freaky, you know. First of all, sometimes they look blue…sometimes green…and sometimes gray, sorta like mine. You can’t spell chameleon without Cam. Even weirder: they can see right inside of you. She always knows when one of us kids is doing something wrong. She can also see problems very clearly. People are always asking her for advice about things, because she can see right to the heart of the matter. She doesn’t need glasses or anything, either. She can read the tiniest print ever. I told you…freaky eyes.


The other thing in the pictures that you should pay attention to are her hands. She thinks he hands are kind of ugly. But anyone I know will tell you that they make the best food in the world, no contest. And when she plays the piano, she is pretty good. I don’t get it, but people always cry when she plays in church. It is not really all that sad…people really ought to just get over it.



Cam’s photo-taking tips: Take a lot lot lot of pictures because: it doesn’t cost any more to take 50 than it does to take three. And because out of 50 photos, there might be three good ones. And you don’t know which ones are going to be the good ones. Don’t center the person’s head in the center of the frame. Position the head at the top of the frame, but don’t cut off the top of it. Try taking some pictures from very close up. That way you can catch all the wrinkles and gray hair… MWA HAH AHHAHA!

The One Where We Had to Give Cambria Away

Yesterday my brain hurt, and today...it has pretty much exploded. So I am lying in my bed, waiting for some aspirin and caffeine to make a dent in this monster of a migraine I have had all morning, and I hear a commotion downstairs at the front door. I can tell almost immediately that it is Cambria banishing Skippy back indoors, so that she can play with her friends without a tag-along half her age.

Skippy tells me on a regular basis: Cambria is so mean to me.

So today, I figured he would come and find me where I was languishing in my bed, to tell me just that. And he did come and find me. But he had a new approach. It was this: Mama, I want Cambria out of our family. Really, Skippy? Do you think we should give her away to some other family? As Skippy realized that I was receptive to his idea, his little face began to brighten. Yes! Another family! I think quick on my feet (even when I am flat on my back), and so I said, Skippy, I have a great idea. What if we gave Cambria away to a family of wolves? Or maybe bears. His eyes lit up with the magic of the idea.

But no. Mama, I don’t want Cambria to die…just go out of our family. If she went to the wolves, or the bears, they would eat her all gone. Hmm. You’re probably right, Skippy. So what do you suggest? I know! The family with the man with all the white hairs. White hairs? I ask… Yes, but not on his head. All over him, except right here, and right here (he indicates the palms of his hands and the soles of his bare feet). At this point I am picturing some mythical creature…maybe a yeti or a hobbit… I don’t know. They have the little boy Taylor in their family. Do you mean the family across the street? Yes! The Andertons! Hmm. I never thought of him as being particularly hirsute. Well, Skip, interesting thought. But you realize, that if we give Cambria away to the Andertons, that every time you go outside to play, she will still be there, being mean.

Skippy agreed. It’s hard to argue with that kind of logic. So I asked if I could think about it, and come up with a better solution. He said that would be fine. I told him it could take a couple of days to come up with just the right place for her. A couple of days! His face fell. He wanted her out today. I told him that I thought if we gave Cambria away, that he would probably miss her a lot. Yes! he said. We can make her an “I miss you” letter. That will be fun. And he immediately disappeared to find some paper and crayons.

I remember when my big boys were little, and Josh and Ty were being particularly mean to Casey. Early one evening, I had had enough, and I walked Casey to a neighbor’s house, and then came home and told Josh and Tyler that I had given Casey away to another family, because they were too mean to him. They cried and cried, and begged me to get him back. I have a feeling this ploy would not work so well on Skippy. So I guess my options are limited. We may have to try Skippy’s suggestion of putting an ad in the church bulletin. Wanted: new home for bright, creative and cheerful almost-12-year-old. She is helpful, hard-working and has a blistering vocabulary. We will furnish a thesaurus. Best for families without almost-six-year-old boys.

P.S. Okay, so I was telling DK about this experience, and Skippy overheard us talking, and he looked at me like I was crazy when I was telling about Mr. Anderton, with the white hair all over... he said, “NO, Mama, the DADDY is not the one with the white hairs... it is their DOGGY, TOBY.” Well, holy cow, Skip, that DOES make more sense, now doesn't it???