(Three differences: I was with Jeff—not the stiff umbrella man. Also, I wore boots. Finally, there was no need for umbrellas.) ((Have I mentioned lately how much I love Julie at Sungazing Photography?))

We left the house at 6:00 and decided to grab dinner before the show. We were a bit short on time, so we decided all we really needed was something quick and filling that wouldn’t make us feel gross afterward: Fast Food Sushi. (I know!) As we walked into the restaurant, I mentioned to Jeff that it feels like my jacket is a little too yellow for November.

Me: I feel like I’m trying to be that guy who hangs out with Curious George.

We ordered our food and I chose a table near the television so Jeff could watch the Rams game. The table next to ours held two girls crocheting scarves. Ahhhh. All is well. AND, then the radio started playing Upside Down by Jack Johnson. And it’s not a bad song, but it IS on the Curious George soundtrack. Sign from God to take off the jacket? I think so.

Fast forward. Dinner? It was okay. (Since when is a tempura roll not the least bit crunchy? Since last night, I suppose! BUT, I still ate the entire thing, so I can’t complain!) Parking at Powell Hall? Five bucks. How was the crowd? They were stunning. Seriously. The place was filled to the brim with Lovely. Evidence: The first person we saw after finding our seats was Kelli, who is SO smart and witty and lovely and with child! On the other side of my hump (architectural term for the barrier between our dress box and the adjoining dress box) was Carrie!  (She’s a knitter and a writer and I’ve never actually met her before, but I’ve admired her for quite some time!) Also at the show? Lisa M., who you might recognize from her comments here. Because of Facebook, we’ve become fast friends, and she’s lovely and kind and is also a writer!

Before the show, I took my camera out of my bag and set it up so I could capture a few shots of Ben Folds. Almost immediately,  a little maroon tuxedo-wearing man ran up and said, “I’m going to have to cut you off. There are no photos allowed of the orchestra.” SO, I sat there and bitched to Jeff for several minutes, because the place was FILLED with people taking photos with their smart phones. I almost felt like I was being discriminated against because my phone is below average. (Ah! But I learned my lesson. Surprisingly, very few people were taking photos after the show started. I need to keep reminding myself that seeing a show at Powell Hall is a lot different than chilling out at Lilith Fair. Sorry for my nasty thoughts, Tuxedo Man.)

Hhhhhh. We’re already at 520 words, and I haven’t even started talking about the show. I’ll just say this: It was amazing. Incredible. I’ve seen Ben Folds five or six times over the years, and this was by far my favorite performance. (Close second? Seeing Ben Folds Five at Mississippi Nights in 1997.)

Here’s my thing: I love going to the symphony. I don’t go very often. In fact, I haven’t been since I saw Jon Nakamatsu play with the Nashville Symphony back in late 1999. And that’s ridiculous. I don’t like watching sports on television. The only thing that helps me understand the excitement that so many people feel when they watch a football game is the excitement *I* feel when I watch an orchestra. Swelling dynamics, hidden sparks, musical conversations between strings and brass… I know you’re probably rolling your eyes right now. I get that. Anyway, it stirs me.

Here’s another thing: I’m totally into Ben Folds. Sure, he’s quirked it up over the years and I can barely listen to his latest stuff with my kids in the room, but nevertheless: I think he’s WISE. And ridiculously clever. He sings, I smile. It’s that simple.

One more thing: I’m a sucker for piano-driven bands, and I’m a sucker for classical musicians. When you put these two things together, there I’ll be—beating my hands on my legs and displaying my big goofy grin. That’s a promise.

Instead of trying to explain how wonderful each and every song was, I’ll list what he played (In order! AND, I’ll embed a few because I’m awesome like that!) and link the others up to YouTube as best as I can. If you don’t know Ben Folds, let this act as a primer. If you’re a fan, just sit back and enjoy. If you don’t have time for this, please at least tune in for Narcolepsy. It was my very favorite arrangement of the evening, and I’ve found a video with the West Australian Symphony Orchestra that captures just how mind-blowing (to me) it was.

Here we go.

Zak and Sara (What a wonderful way to start the show. My eyes may or may not have welled up. (They welled up.))

Smoke
The Ascent of Stan
Effington
Jesusland
Picture Window
One Angry Dwarf

(Intermission. Go ahead. Take a little break.)

Landed
Gracie
Not the Same (complete with audience participation)

Brick
Cologne
Steven’s Last Night in Town

Narcolepsy (Seriously. Watch this one. Tenor alert at 3:24! This one gave me chills.)

(Now it’s time for the orchestra to walk out so Ben Folds can play a few tunes on his own.)

Army
Rock it, St. Louis (an impromptu (poor-quality video) response to the jackass who kept yelling “Rock This Bitch!”)
Johnny B. Goode (a little shout out to Chuck Berry, who was seen wearing sweat pants at the airport several years ago)
Annie Waits

My only regret? I went to the show with a plan to buy a t-shirt. On the way out, I was so jazzed that I forgot the t-shirt. And now I can’t find them online. Is anyone out there going to a Ben Folds show anytime soon? Do you want to get a t-shirt for me? Adult! Medium or Large! I’ll either PayPal you or I’ll trade you something  knitted!

Something to add to the life list: Coffee and doughnuts with Ben Folds. Can someone coach me on how to make this happen? If your advice is magical and I someday find myself with vanilla long john icing on my chin while sitting across a table from Mr. Folds, I’ll knit socks for you! Two pairs, even! Four pairs! (Two pairs.)

Go watch Narcolepsy again, and tomorrow I’ll tell you all about this morning’s mammogram.

(Spoiler Alert: It was negative!)

When I think back to our first ten years of marriage, I immediately land on our London trip. Although I used to be able to recite the day-by-day timeline, my memories have now sort of jumbled into a big stew (mulligatawny?) with tiny hints of watching Aimee Mann singing Fourth of July on the Fourth of July and lots of tomato mozzarella sandwiches and Mr. Kipling Cherry Bakewells and the little boy who thought the manhole covers in Bristol were made of chocolate. And then I skip forward a bit and think about OUR kids.

When you marry someone who doesn’t have kids and you don’t have kids, it’s really sort of a gamble when you start throwing around the idea of babies. After giving birth to Meredith, I quickly learned that I am not a good baby person. Although I think they’re mostly cute, I don’t understand babies. I can’t make them stop crying. My patience runs thin when they fill their diapers too much (or worse, not enough). You, however, were a gem. You would come home from work, drop your briefcase onto the floor, swoop up Meredith, and suddenly All Was Well. And then Harper came into the picture (how did THAT happen?!) and I became even MORE frazzled (can you imagine?!), and you became even MORE of a great dad. (Seriously. You’re clever and witty. You have great taste in music. You’re a good cook. All of those things should be good enough. BUT, then you had to throw in Baby Pro and so much more. Smitten, I am.)

During those days when I was home alone with an infant and a two year old, I often found myself wishing (against the pastel-colored advice of others) that I could somehow speed up time to the point where the girls could actually TALK to me instead of pointing and crying and throwing themselves onto the floor where they stomped and spat and frothed. The universe listened.

Here we are. Ten years in. I have you, who I consider to be my best friend and perfect match. I have the girls, who are bright and funny and curious and wonderful. (I have the dogs and the cats, who really deserve much more than a parenthetical aside, but right now they’re being jerks so I’ve demoted them from Paragraph to Sentence.) Essentially, because of what happened ten years ago today, I have the perfect life.

This morning I realized that we’ll be celebrating our twentieth anniversary when Meredith is a freshman in college. And then I started thinking about how she might actually go AWAY to college, and then two years later, Harper will probably do the same, and okay. That pastel-c0lored advice doesn’t seem quite so AM radio anymore. My tenth anniversary gift to you? I’m going to try to figure out how to Slow Time Down. (I’ll begin by limiting my caffeine intake.)

Thank you for the past 3,652 days.

We’ve survived the life expectancy of a platypus.

Here’s hoping we see many more generations of playtpuses/platypi living just as happily as we do.

(Did you know that there is no universally agreed plural form of Platypus?)

I’ll always believe that this song was written for us.

We went to Olympia, where cheese was set on fire and I did a bit of this:

And a bit of this:

And a lot of this:

When it occurred to my aunt that I hadn’t had a shower that involved underpants, she threw one together two days before our wedding. Jeff and I had just driven in from Nashville a few hours before, and suddenly it was time to sit in front of my mother-in-law and open strappy fuzzy things. Afterwards, we went to Kaldi’s for chai and cookies.

Ten years later, I still love flaming cheese and chai and cookies and Jeff.

But not in that order, obviously.

(Chai will always come before cheese. In my heart, and alphabetically.)

I love burritos.

I took two slices of Muenster cheese and placed them (lovingly) on a Flatout. (When I SEE Flatout, I think “PHLAT out”. When I SAY Flatout, I say, “phlah TOOT.”)

I then sliced a SweeTango and placed the slices (passionately) on top of the cheese.

Finally, I rolled it up (as you do) and ate it.

Ten years. Some of you have been with me since before I was married.

You stuck with me during both pregnancies.

And both births.

You listened to me sing.

You dealt with my headaches and my eczema.

You don’t laugh when I fall down. You humor me when I knit stuff and when I sing songs about cake balls and when I make my dogs lick your face and when I stuff my own face with marshmallows.

You always make me feel like I’m exactly where I should be.

You know about Little Debbie Oatmeal Pies, right? Get this. I just learned that you can make oatmeal pie balls by smooshing up Little Debbie Oatmeal Pies, rolling them into balls, and dipping them.

They look just like cake balls on the outside, but when you bite into them, you are right back in elementary school and it’s snowing outside and your mom has a roast in the oven and Christmas is right around the corner.

They’re magical. And they take less than an hour to put together. And you don’t have to bake a cake. You don’t have to bake anything!

Instead of doing a giveaway for my ten year Fluid Pudding anniversary, I’d like to ask you to do something for me. Would you please leave a comment below so I know you’re still with me? I wouldn’t be here without you, you know.

The traditional ten year anniversary gift is tin. For that reason, I dedicate this song to you.

(I know.)

Thank you for sticking around.

On Friday morning, my mom and I picked Tempe up at 5:00 and the three of us made our annual trip to Schaumburg, Illinois for Stitches Midwest. This was our fourth year to attend, and it did not disappoint. When we first attended Stitches back in 2007, I came back with nothing but sock yarn.

In 2008, I purchased the supplies to make this sweater:

In 2009, I fell in love with this sweater:

Yeah. It’s not really finished, is it? I’m hoping to change that sometime in 2012.

Last year we decided to skip Stitches and go to Memphis. Graceland was very good. The yarn stores? Not so much.

This year, my only plan was to get some fiber. And I did.

This Jimmy Durante lookalike is actually a pound of BFL/Tussah Silk fiber. It’s the first purchase I made at Stitches, and if all goes according to plan, it will eventually be spun and knit into a sweater. After I achieve this goal, I will surely feel invincible.

All of these were purchased from Lisa Souza, who is sort of a rock star. She was one of the nicest and most interesting people we met at Stitches, which is definitely a thing because I now want to devote a shelf in our office to Lisa Souza fiber.

When we went back to the market to kill a bit of time before the drive home on Saturday, I accidentally bought two sweater kits.

This one will be my everyday cardigan (brown! with pockets!) for this winter.

This one will be my snazzified artsy meets swanky sweater.

This is the stuff that happens at Stitches, and this is why I love going there. Sadly, only 17% of you really understand how jazzed I am right now about my loot.

May I say something that just might jazz an additional 38% of you?

Do you remember Aaron’s bike? I am pleased to report that the money is in. The bike has been ordered. Aaron will have his bike, and I couldn’t be more excited. Thanks once again for your support!

The teacher went out that night and bought the boy a backpack. (The woman standing behind me in line said that the teacher should NOT have done this, which I thought was interesting. I would have bought the backpack.)

Anyway. It recently came to my attention that there are some kids in the girls’ school who are without backpacks for the same reason. AND, a few of us want to fix that.

I’ve been searching the internet for inexpensive backpacks (not the drawstring kind) that can be purchased in bulk, and although there are quite a few sites that offer such a thing, I hesitate before ordering because of bad site reviews posted elsewhere on the internet. My sister told me to go to a place like WalMart, tell them the situation and how I want to keep the purchase local, and see what they could offer.

Before I do that, I want to throw it out to you, because you tend to have the exact information that I need. Do you know where I could get something like twenty backpacks for a decent price? Any advice would be appreciated.

AND, now I’m going to take your hand and drag you to the other side of the room to show you the bracelet I received in the mail today. When I turned 30, Jeff sent flowers to me at work. Inside the card, he had written, “I’m in love with the world through the eyes of a girl.” (It’s the opening line from my very favorite Elliott Smith tune.) Now that we have two daughters, that line carries even more meaning than it did when Jeff and I were dating. Anyway, I found an Etsy store that sells customized bracelets. A little more than a week later, here I sit with the greatest bracelet I’ve ever owned—a bracelet so great that it prompted me to make an eighteen second video to celebrate its existence.

From here to there to here: We’re currently two birthday parties down, with only one to go. May Day.

Any advice on the backpack thing? I thank you in advance!
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I want a Fluid Pudding Regular to win this one!
The Puddings are eating vegetables and giving away a $100 Visa Gift Card! Leave a comment for your chance to win!

When I was at Camp KIP (I know! Here I go again with the mentioning of knitting camp! NOW I’m actually calling it by name! Next up? I’ll probably rename my goofy website “Fluid Pudding Goes to Knitting Camp!”), I noticed a LOT of people with “extra” earrings, and some of the pierced folks were moms and some were not and I couldn’t stop wishing that I hadn’t removed my tiny hoops over eight years ago. Because, really. Being a mom doesn’t necessarily mean you’re allowed only two earrings, three pairs of khaki capri pants, and four t-shirts with subdued floral prints. There really is no Mom Costume, right? Am I right?

Last night we met some friends from New York for dinner, and the last time we saw these particular friends was nearly ten years ago—before any of us had kids. Last night there were four kids at our table, and for whatever reason, it really hit me that not much has changed in the past ten years, yet we’re now a party of eight instead of a party of four—BUT we can still talk about good music and books that poke our brains. (Can you tell that I’m typing this out really quickly? It’s very difficult (yet such a rattlesnaking cliché) to describe how some things change yet others stay the same, and perhaps I should have relegated this particular Ironing Out to my handwritten journal, but sadly, my handwritten journal doesn’t even exist at this time. I keep meaning to get back into pulling out my notebook every morning, but then I don’t. I could learn so much from this guy. (I actually cried when I watched that video. (Happy HandToFace Crying.) His website is here, and is one of my new favorites.) Where was I? Have I closed all of my parenthetical asides?!)

After we ate at Fitz’s last night, we walked to FroYo, whose website blasts annoying loud music, and I feel the need to warn you before I actually link to it. To get to FroYo, you have to pass by Phoenix Rising. (Fact: Nearly fifteen years ago, I purchased tiny hoop earrings at Phoenix Rising, and I’m now unable to find those hoops.) As we sat around eating our frozen yogurt, the pull became too much for me. I excused myself, walked next door, asked if they had tiny hoops (they did—at five dollars per pair!), quickly checked out, and was back in my yogurt seat in less than five minutes.

I am pleased to report that I have replaced three of my hoops, and only one of my three chosen holes needed to be partially redrilled. (In case you’re wondering about the fourth hole, I’m not quite sure I can get away with having a hoop on the top of my ear. For now, that story will remain untold. Also, I will not redo Billy Pancake.)

Suddenly, my ears look eight years younger.

Speaking of which, you know that I stuffed my mouth with marshmallows for you, I eyelinered my face for you, and I Sharpied my hands for you. My birthday is coming up in a few weeks, and I’m out of ideas. Feel free to challenge me.
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I want a Fluid Pudding Regular to win this one!
The Puddings are eating vegetables and giving away a $100 Visa Gift Card! Leave a comment for your chance to win!

The photos in that entry have disappeared, but because TimeWaster is my middle name (Thanks, Mom and Dad!), I searched our external hard drive and found them for you!

Here they are, ordered as they appeared in the original post—over five years ago!

By the way, this is what Jeff and the girls looked like over five years ago.

(If everything Steve Miller says is true, we will be doing this in about a week.)

Anyway. Over the weekend I discovered that not only do I love alpacas, I also love llamas! (You know what? I’m going to throw caution to the wind over here and just say it. I love ALL camelids!)

Just look at this guy, who may or may not really be a girl! (I’ve been calling him Barack O’Llama, so let’s go with Boy.) He was sheared on Friday morning, and I was able to walk away with a tiny bag of his hair. I’m going to plant that hair in my back yard, and when I wake up with a yard full of adorable baby llamas, you will be the first to know.

(A dream is a wish your heart makes.)
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It’s a new giveaway!
The Puddings are eating vegetables and giving away a $100 Visa Gift Card! Leave a comment for your chance to win!

This one ends on Wednesday!
I went shopping at Walgreens, and now I’m giving away a $100 Walgreens gift card! Come on over!

Because it’s not a headshot unless it contains One Head, I cropped out my family and cloned my sweater over Meredith’s face to come up with this.

Heh. I know. I know! Jeff says it looks like I’m sort of sad and wrapped up in a blanket on a couch in an undisclosed location (enjoying a bowl of roz bi laban in Egypt with Anderson Cooper).

Anyway. I finally ate an amaretto-flavored sucker and contacted a friend and am getting the wheels in motion to have an actual photograph taken of my head in about a month. (I need a haircut, and the woman who cuts my hair lives five hours away, so I’m sort of on her schedule for these things. Have I ever mentioned that my life is sometimes decorated with quirky spoons and wrenches?) I’m thinking I would like a serious photo in case I ever decide to become complex and need a photo to represent the reflectiveness, plus a photo that’s a bit more whimsical? Maybe? Can one be whimsical at this age? Oh dear God, why am I crying? HEADSHOT!!!

The real reason I invited  you over here today is to tell you that I ordered some liquid eyeliner last night, and it’s only a matter of time (about nine days, actually) before I start looking a little more like this.

How do you like me now, Anderson Cooper?

Meanwhile, Meredith’s teacher pulled me aside on Wednesday and told me that Meredith wasn’t really acting like herself at school—she was throwing her feet up on her desk and acting sort of nuts, which isn’t really her typical At School demeanor. Later that evening, Meredith Baroque DaHown and I ended up keeping her home again yesterday. (I reluctantly sent her back to school today, and when I volunteered in her classroom this morning, I handed her teacher a piece of paper with my phone number on it and asked her to call me if things got crazy. I hate that I’m such a weirdo with that sort of thing.)

A few hours ago, I received the following photo from Jeff. It came in a message titled The View From My Doorstep.

Meanwhile, it’s sort of cold and snowy/rainy here. Oh! Wait! Here’s The View From My Doorstep.

Ah, but before you start grabbing your handkerchiefs and violins in my honor, please know that the UPS man has provided me with a silver lining!

(They’re my first ever pair of boots (really!), and they’re making me want to wear skirts and maybe even tie scarves around my neck and do cutesy twirls when I walk!)

((I fall down all of the time. I won’t really be doing the cutesy twirl thing. BUT, skirts! Maybe!))

(((Someday I might tell you about how the tissue paper surrounding the boots was smeared with what appeared to be some sort of animal feces. It sort of killed the buzz of the whole “Hey! Boot deliveries are awesome!” thing. Luckily, I was able to put on a pair of my disposable latex gloves (I wear them often), peel the paper away from the boots, verify that none of the mess was actually touching the shoes, and Hooray! Boot deliveries ARE awesome!)))

((((Yes. The tree is still up. I’m working on it. (I’m not really working on it.)))))