journalversay – 2001

You know, when I first realized I had an important milestone coming up, then thought up the idea of taking you through each year each day, a part of the back of my brain hollered out, “WAIT! What about 2001?”

I kinda wanted to just skip it.

It was an incredibly difficult year.

The archives are a mess. I started a blog at Blogger in September, and when I imported the entries here, there are no titles and a bunch of extra tags that mess up the page. There are a whole pile of journal entries missing. I keep thinking about all the copying and pasting of the entries into here and more than just a lot of work, it would be hard. You know, emotionally hard. Because I have to read about it all over again. I thought I might go through them backwards, reading about Our Heroine without that sense of impending doom on the horizon.

Ron (see honey? I mentioned you) was able to spend most of the year working from home, so Emma had two parents to cling to. By the end of the year, he was hired by the college.

We bought this house and got our first mortage.
We left the house we built.
Relationships with certain family members deteriorated.

Planes crashed into buildings in the United States and the sky fell.

My grandmother died and my heart broke.

Journalversay – the millenium

It was the year 2000, the one we though would bring loads of changes. Oh BOY were we turned on our ear. I remember when I was around 16, and I tried to think ahead to the year 2000. Everything was a big black void. Plus I thought I’d be really old.

I wrote all year, but for some reason (I’m lazy) I don’t have all the entries here in this blog. Yet. I was gonna do it, I swear. Do you know how verbose I was back them? I mean, January has 14 long entries! Besdies, they were all hand-coded, so that’s a lot of copying and pasting I need to do. I did fix the archives index for better browsing though.

The girls got scarlet fever, I talk about sex, miss a trip to my grandparents but think up a movie instead, write a couple maudlin entries (resisiting the urge to rewrite) and talk about various accidents the kids had and about being sick.

I was sick a lot the first half of the year. Hmm….

I also have “the talk” with the girls about girl-stuff. I even got a new game, Roller Coaster Tycoon. That was funny.

And then I turned thirty. My whole family, both sides, got together in a public place for dinner. It was almost what you would imagine, but nobody yelled at anyone else. That was the bestest part.

There were some interesting but run-of-the-mill entries through there. People drove me crazy. I was re-thinking a lot of things, trying to figure out what to do with my life and then guess what? HA! This is the best part, it’s so funny… I was pregnant! I chuckle even now. Oh Lord, what a sense of humour You have.

We spent June (and the whole rest of the missing entries) utterly convinced I was pregnant with a boy. I also had a run-in with my blender. My belly got bigger while the rest of me got smaller. I looked great but felt like crap, and I was so exhausted I could hardly move. People thought we were insane and told us so.

You have to read the rules of our household. It’s a classic. The explaination behind some of the rules is almost as funny as the rule itself.

December was a good month. You should read the whole thing, starting here. You might wanna skip the birth story, though, that’d be okay.

Then I showed him how I make bread.

Aunt Boo warned me before we came up that Leroy wanted me to show him how to make bread. He’d been doing dozens of experiments, varying temperatures, amounts of ingredients, and whatever variable he could to find the secret knack of making bread. The women of the house, Aunt Boo and Leroy’s mom, Grandma Betty who lives downstairs, had been teasing him for quite some time.

I think I showed him. I hope he remembers.

After the fifth time of him asking when, I finally said, “Dig out the stuff. I’ll need a big bowl.” I think he though he was trying to pull one over on me, and he told me about the biggest bowl they had – a nice steel one kept in an out-of-the-way cupboard.

Yep, that’ll do.

When I asked for flour, he dug out a large container that was half-full. He looked a bit surprised once more when I said I hoped we didn’t run out. Finally he asked, “How many loaves are we making, anyway?” I chuckled. “You’ve got a freezer, right? Well, it’ll be well-stocked.”

Then when he asked for the recipe, I tapped my head. Poor guy.

We got out ingredients, heated some water, “Warm, bath, Leroy – just remember – warm bath,” Aunt Boo thumping around behind me, stage-whispering, “That’s what did it! I told him it was too hot!” We stirred, we mixed and we made one heck of a mess on the counter. He said we cheated by using a hand mixer to stretch the gluten when less than half the flour was added. I said it worked. Aunt Boo muttered, “If there’s a shortcut, a woman’ll find it.” We covered not adding too much flour, that slightly sticky was good, and how to knead without tearing. As he was writing down some things, because I didn’t really measure much, I mentioned in my best tv voice, “And the recipe is available on my website!”

We made four loaves and a square pan of rolls. I must say it’s one of the best batches of bread I think I’ve ever made, but it’s been a while since I’ve made bread and took my time. Aunt Boo kept lifting up the loaves and exclaiming how light they were. After supper, Leroy toook a plate of food down to his mother. “I’m not going to tell her who made the rolls, I’m just going to say, ‘Have a roll, Mother,’ and see what she says. So she’ll assume it was me.” He grinned like any kid does before they try to pull one over on dear old Mom.

A while later, he slowly came back up the spiral stairs. He shook his head. He sighed and said to the room in general, “She took one look at the roll, looked at me and said – ‘She made this, didn’t she?’ “