Random Thoughts of Uncommon Sense

A Day in the Life of PMS

2012-02-13T13:59:00.003-07:00

Wake up after tossing and turning all night because you just couldn't get comfortable. Make your children's lunches without complaining, even though all you really want to do is sit on the couch in a zombie-like stupor. Get the kids off to school and then come home and clean up everybody's crap and get angrier and angrier the longer it takes you. Take a hot shower and realize it's doing absolutely nothing for your mood. Realize that you have PMS and you're angry for no apparent reason, AND there's nothing you can do about it. Think about saying a dozen swear words, but don't because you're a good Mormon girl who doesn't use such language. But dammit to hell, PMS sucks! Put on your most comfortable pair of jeans and favorite hoodie, because it's just going to be that kind of day. Sit down and make a grocery list and mute the Rachael Ray show because even though you like her recipes, you couldn't care less about the latest gadgets to give your valentine.

Get in your car and drive down the steep, icy mountain at high rates of speed with the radio turned waaaaay up loud, because driving fast often cures a bad mood. Make a stop at The Store for a $2.50 Ruby Snap cookie. Yes, singular. And you don't care that it costs $2.50 because the cherry chocolate filling is instantly calming to your soul, which makes it a good investment for peace at home. Continue on to the other grocery stores and lament the fact that everything seems twice as expensive and it makes you feel really old because you remember exactly what you paid for that same loaf of bread ten years ago. After grocery shopping and wondering what in the heck you dropped a hundred bucks on, go to Beto's because let's face it, as good as the cherry-chocolate cookie was, all you really want when you have PMS is salt. Get yourself a 99-cent burrito that ends up actually tasting pretty good, even though you wish that Beto's was still Sonic, because a cherry lime-ade would really hit the spot.

Drive home, radio still loud, and pretend to be nice when the room mom calls to finalize plans for the next day's class valentine party - even though the LAST thing you want to do is spend two hours with 25 sugar-intoxicated 3rd graders. Wolf down your burrito and put the groceries away before pick-up time begins. You could make them walk, but there are maniacs out there who like to drive down the icy mountain at incredibly high rates of speed.

Take them shopping because they want to pick out valentines treats for their dad, and what kind of monster would that make you if you said "no"?

Come home and start dinner and undo the button on your most comfy jeans because there's no sucking in when you're this bloated. You make a shrimp stir-fry because that's what sounds really good, even though you know 50% of your children will complain. Enjoy a family dinner around the table even though, for no apparent reason, you want to yell at everyone. Finish your dinner and put on your elastic-waist pajama bottoms because the jeans are now the most uncomfortable article of clothing in your entire wardrobe.

Eventually, you make your way back into bed, praying either for the week to end quickly or the sweet relief of death. Whichever comes first.

Can You Relate?

2012-01-30T16:29:00.003-07:00

I'm going to take a small stab at politics today. Just because I'm curious.

In many recent polls, a common question that keeps reappearing is this: "Do you feel that (insert candidate's name here) relates to you as an everday American?"

Who cares? Why does that matter? Of course they don't relate to me. I lead a very different life than they do. The sheer fact that they are running for president sets them apart from me. I don't want, nor do I need the President of the United States to relate to me. I can deal with my own life just fine, thank you very much.

What I do want from my president is for him or her to do what the oath says: to protect, preserve, and defend the constitution. Perhaps that sounds simplistic. But look at how complicated this whole process has become. I just want the president to ensure freedom and to not be a control freak about it. To get out of my way and let me live my life according to my own dictates -- as long my own dictates aren't infringing on someone else's freedoms. The constitution guarantees me nothing more than the opportunity. And that's all I need.

Now THAT'S something I can relate to.

Good-Bye, Big Red; Hello Fred

2012-01-28T15:01:00.003-07:00

A few weeks ago, I took my 2001 Chevy Tahoe (known as Big Red in our family) in for a thirty-dollar oil change, and came out with a $2000 estimate for half of the problems they found. I've been keeping Big Red patched together for a while now, but essentially, she was starting to cost me more to repair than she was worth. Among other problems, she had a rear main seal leak, differential leaks, and oil pan gasket leaks. Big Red was bleeding to death.

It was time for a new car.

So I found one.

Much to my son's chagrin.

"But the new one has bucket seats in the back," I tried to explain.

"They're not going to be as comfortable as Big Red," he fired back.

"It has a DVD player," I offered, thinking that would sell him.

"Still not as good as Big Red."

"Why don't you want to get rid of Big Red?"

"We've had Big Red almost my whole entire life!"

And that's when it hit me. He is MY son. Emotional attachment to cars? Yes, please! When I was a kid, we had a Ford Gran Torino (you know, the car from Starsky and Hutch?). My dad sold it when I was about 14. He bought it when I was about 3. It was blue, and we named it The Blue Bubble. My sisters and I swear it even looked like my dad. The day he sold it was a sad, sad day. In fact, it was so sad, that my dad had to leave the house while the guy came to pick it up! So as you can see, it runs in the family.

I had to give Jamison a moment alone with Big Red to say good-bye. We took a drive around the block a couple of times that day.

It's taken a couple of weeks, but our new car, Fred, is starting to grow on him. He likes the bucket seats. And he's already watched Transformers 3 on a trip to Salt Lake City. And red is his favorite color.

By the way, Fred (which stands for Ford Red -- and short for Fredericka because all cars are girls) is a lovely 2005 Ford Freestyle. And for all intents and purposes, Fred is NOT a station wagon. I don't drive station wagons. She's a cross-over SUV that seems to have nearly cut my fuel costs in HALF!

Welcome to the family, Fred.

Bearing Down in Salt Lake City

2012-01-20T16:32:00.001-07:00

A couple of years ago when it was announced that the University of Utah would be joining the PAC 12, I jumped for joy. But only because it meant that I would get to go to an occasional basketball game when the University of Arizona was in town. Well, last night, my beloved Wildcats blew into town and pounded the Utes. Soundly.

I can be Ute fan. And generally, they're the team we cheer for in our house. Except when they're playing Arizona. But then we have this boy. And he is a RABID Utah fan. Even when they play Arizona. I tried explaining to him that when it comes to basketball, you ALWAYS cheer for Arizona; otherwise you're going to be disappointed. He wasn't buying it.

The boy in his Ute gear, and me, in the WINNING team's gear.

Dominating at the freethrow line.

Feeling a bit dejected.

The final score. And THAT'S how you Bear Down.

Could They Be Cuter? I Think Not.

2012-01-11T11:57:00.003-07:00

So 2012 is off to a fabulous start. My adorable cousin, Ben, married an even more adorable girl, named Emry. And they asked me to be their photographer! They got married last Saturday in the Oquirrh Mountain LDS temple. The ceremony was beautiful, and it was such a privelege to be there with so many other family members.

It snowed the night before (a rare thing this winter) and depite the freezing winds outside, I think we got a few good shots.

Congrats to Ben and Emry!

Life is Good

2011-12-29T11:08:00.003-07:00

I love the week between Christmas and New Year's Day.There's lots of downtime: staying up way too late, watching T.V.; sleeping in, only to eat breakfast when it's nearly lunchtime; playing games with the kids because they got every imaginable game for Christmas; spending as much time as possible in your pajamas. I would go a little nuts if this was regular life. But for this week, life is good.

Which brings me to my next point. Can you believe it's nearly 2012? Wow. Aside from the fact that there aren't any flying cars out there, and space travel hasn't been brought to the masses, life is pretty good. I know, I know, there's a recession. There are wars and protests and causes and a ribbon for every cause. But I'm an eternal optimist, and there are also lots of good things happening. There are lay-away angels and babies being born and reasons to celebrate every day. And right within my own little sphere of life, it gets even better. I have a happy, healthy family. We have love. We go on amazing trips together. Both of our cars are pushing 200,000 miles, and yet, continue to start up every day. Our pantry is stocked. My countertop is overflowing with homemade goodies and Christmas cards, proof that we have friends! I am abundantly blessed. 2011 was super, and 2012 will be even better. It's a leap year, which means we get an extra day of happiness this year. Can life get any better?

P.S. The photography challenge? Was 30 days in a row very realistic? I mean really? More to come, just not on a consecutive basis.

Happy New Year!

Day 10

2011-11-10T16:27:00.002-07:00

Today's photo challenge is a childhood memory. When I was a kid, my dad often kept a package of Oreos on top of the refrigerator. Why? Because he's 6'4" and we weren't. However, we were very good climbers. And we had bar stools. Too easy, Dad.

Catching Up, Part II

2011-11-10T12:16:00.003-07:00

Day 7: Fruit -- This is a shot of some apricots that I turned into fruit leather and got a little weepy because it smelled like baby food and I no longer have babies.

Day 8: A Bad Habit -- Lest you think this child is innocently blowing bubbles into a glass of wholesome milk, think again. He's innocently blowing bubbles into a glass of half-and-half, which he constantly asked for (and got) on our cruise two weeks ago! Oh well, the kid is so scrawny, I'm hoping it put a little meat on his bones somewhere... anywhere!

Day 9: Someone You Love -- For better or worse, I took this shot of someone I love, taking a shot at something HE loves.

Catching Up

2011-11-10T12:05:00.002-07:00

Due to a quick trip to Houston and some technical difficulties, I fell way behind on my self-imposed photography assignment! But never fear, because I am back and ready to post. Here are days 3-6:

Day 3: Clouds -- This is a big thunderhead looming over my house.

Day 4: Something Green -- Isn't he such a cutie on his first day of third grade?

Day 5: From a High Angle -- I was standing at the top of the Space Needle.... does that count?

Day 6: From a Low Angle -- This is my baby brother and his wife last Saturday after they went to the Houston temple for the first time. He's 6'3" so I had to crouch waaaaay down to get the steeple in the background!

Day 2 and Other Stuff

2011-11-02T09:28:00.000-06:00

The challenge for today is to take a picture of what I wore, but I'm gonna be kind of busy tonight, so here is a picture of what I'm going to wear! It's chilly out there today -- we've got a dusting of snow on the ground -- and I've got to run some errands before leaving town for the weekend. I'm going to Houston, where it's hopefully warmer, and I've got to pick up a big bag of cinnamon bears for my dad, because apparently you cannot get cinnamon bears in Houston! This information was confirmed when we discovered that my brother-in-law, a native Houstonian, had no idea what on earth a cinnamon bear is. I prefer the ones covered in chocolate, myself.

Also, I'm leaving my husband and kids for four days, which means I've got to stock the fridge with "easy food," as my husband calls it. On the list of requests: frozen lasagna and corn dogs. I promise not to read the sodium content on the packages.

Other errands include a trip to the bank and gas station. Then later my taxi service will be open for business as I'll run kids between school, piano lessons, tennis lessons, and church.

Perhaps we'll have "easy food" for dinner tonight.

A Challenge!

2011-11-01T09:39:00.003-06:00

Happy November! I recently came across this little photography challenge and thought it might be fun to give it a try. At the very least, I should have a blog post every day this month...

So here is my self-portrait for Day 1. It's gloomy and stormy today (as you'd expect November 1st to be here in the mountain tops). I actually took this picture about a week and a half ago, when I was on a cruise down in sunny Mexico! As we all know, I am a summer-lovin' girl, and this picture definitely represents that: no make-up, sunglasses, messy hair; and if you look close enough, you can see the straps of my swimsuit! Yes, I will take all the summer I can get.

What's Scary to an 8-Year-Old Boy?

2011-10-31T09:21:00.003-06:00

Happy Halloween! Another one is here and no Halloween Gala to speak of. It will happen. One day. On Saturday we let our kids have a party, complete with costumes and severed-finger cookies. It was awesome. My husband was worried about the whole worlds-colliding thing as the party was all-inclusive... as long as you were a 12-year-old girl or an 8-year-old boy.

After an hour of Minute-to-Win-It games, the girls gathered around the kitchen island for treats while the boys did the same - around the kitchen table. The girls were enjoying their chips and salsa when one of the boys expressed his interest in said chips and salsa.

"Well go ahead and get yourself some," I offered. Aren't I a gracious hostess?

"But those girls scare me," said the 8-year-old hobbit.

So I fixed him up a little plate of his own. After all, Halloween shouldn't be THAT scary.

Standing Up

2011-10-14T07:44:00.003-06:00

Once again, and for what I'm sure won't be the last time, my church is being targeted in the media. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints has been the target of persecution and hatred since it was founded. In the early days, the governor of Missouri actually put out an extermination order against "the Mormons" and thousands of people had to flee or be killed. Many of them were killed.

I honestly don't care if someone calls us a cult. It's just a word. It can only do harm if I allow it to. Intelligent people will go straight to the source if they want to know if we're all just a bunch of cultists.

We teach our children (and each other) to be good and honest people. To serve others. To have integrity. We try our best to live clean lives; to avoid those things that are damaging to the soul - and we teach our kids to do the same. Chastity before marriage and complete fidelity within marriage. Is that so bad? We believe that families are eternal and strong families build strong societies. We're taught to pray continually; to keep a little prayer in our hearts. We send our 19-year-old boys out into the far reaches of the world, not simply to convert others, but so that they might convert themselves. So that they can spend two years learning to depend on and trust in God; that sacrificing something good now will result in something better later. They learn about other cultures and learn to love and respect the people they meet and serve. They come home as men who are ready to tackle their education, careers, and who hopefully understand what it means to actually be a man. And just for good measure, a lot of our young women go out there and show the boys how it's done! Most importantly, we believe Jesus Christ is the Savior, the Messiah, the Redeemer of the world. We strive to "choose the right;" in other words, to do what Jesus would do.

If we're a cult, then I am ALL IN.

Stop This Train

2011-10-11T07:47:00.002-06:00

I feel old. Not in the achy-body-where's-the-Geritol sense; but more in the my-kids-are-growing-up sense.

In the last few days I have had two very important discussions with my kids. I had the truth-about-Santa Claus talk with my 8-year-old and the truth-about-where-babies-come-from with my 12-year-old. I've been meaning to have that talk with the 12-year-old for a while now, but she really wasn't ready (nor was I) until now. Her reaction? "That's just gross."

As for the 8-year-old, he's 8 going on 32, so the timing was right. He was helping me take some things down to the basement when he said, "I really hate to bring this up with Christmas just around the corner, but are you and Dad really the ones who get all the Christmas presents for us?" After confirming his suspicions, he kicked a rubber ball across the room (thankfully our basement is empty) and said, "Dang it! I wanted him to be real!"

I suggested that maybe now he would have some fun getting in on the magic for his younger cousins. His reaction: "Yeah, but that will cost a lot of money!" Always the capitalist.

I feel like I've taken away a little something from them now. A little innocence, a little bit of their childhood, a little bit of fun. But then again, I'd be devastated if they found these things out from any other source; because the truth is, I will always tell them the truth. Always. Even if it hurts me a little.

A couple of days later, my son lost a tooth. He walked right up to me and said, "I'm guessing the tooth fairy isn't real either?"

"Talk to your dad," I said.

"Nope," Dan said rather bluntly.

"What about the Easter Bunny?"

"No, But you know who IS real?"

"Who?"

"Jesus."

The next morning I gave him a dollar for his tooth.

Behavior Modification

2011-09-29T17:13:00.002-06:00

My kids are four years apart. One's a bossy girl; the other is a stubborn boy. They do have many really good, wonderful qualities, but that's not what today's post is about.

Because one is bossy and the other one is stubborn, and there's a four-year differential, there tends to be lots of room for bickering. I'm sure if you have kids, you probably have no idea what I'm talking about. Anyway, all the bickering this summer left me pulling out my hair. About a month ago, I finally lost it. Oh man, did I lose it.

After telling them to get out of my sight, I thought to myself, "Why should I be the one to lose it? They're the ones who should be losing something." So I went to my husband, who had a great idea.

"Give them the chore you hate doing the most, and make them do it every time they fight."

Mopping, it is. I called them out of their rooms and taught them how to properly mop our kitchen floor, beginning with removing all the chairs to the living room. Sweep, swiffer, mop. Get down on your hands and knees if there's a stubborn spot. I taught them this while sitting like a queen on a throne. It was all very Cinderella-ish.

Today they were fighting over taking turns on the Wii -- to the point, mind you, that one was ripping the batteries out of the balance board. The old me would have yelled and sent them to their rooms. The new me? I very calmly said, "Turn it off and go mop." They very nearly began to bicker over who would do what, when I calmly reminded them that I could very easily add the bathroom floors to their punishment.

They're about half-way done as I type this.

Ego Boost

2011-09-21T08:01:00.002-06:00

So I'm lucky enough to live in the same community as a certain author who has published many, many books. Last month I found out about a writing class he was offering and immediately signed up. Besides the many wonderful things he is teaching us, we also have the chance to get our writing samples critiqued. It's always a little nerve-racking to have other people look at what I've written; especially when it's done by someone who has actually made a successful career out of writing, himself!

So when it came around to my turn, I braced myself for the impact. He asked others in the group what their opinions were. They offered some helpful insights and I, not being allowed to comment until the critique was over, wrote them down. The teacher joined in on the discussion pointing out a few things here and there -- all helpful. Then, at the end, he looked me in the eye and said, "You're a already good writer and you don't need me."

Wow. I'll be riding high on that one for a while.**

**Even though the fact remains, that I do need and will take all the help I can get!!

Goodbye Summer, Hello Apple Tart

2011-09-19T15:33:00.001-06:00

Check out this cool spider web I discovered on our back door this morning!

As you can see in the picture below, fall is upon us. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but I do lament the loss of summer.

And while I feel a loss when the leaves start to turn, fall does bring with it some very nice things. Like beautiful hillsides. And soup and hot rolls. Pleasant days and crisp mornings (we'll not mention what the nights are like around here). And of course, candy corn!

But let's not forget the apples. I saw this apple tart recipe being made on T.V. the other day. Now, a baker, I am not. I have a sister and a sister-in-law and a niece who can bake circles around me. I can cook you the most fabulous dinner (my roast chicken and rosemary potatoes are to die for (if I do say so myself)) but don't expect anything for dessert, unless you bring it yourself. I have a list of about 4 cookies that I can make that usually turn out well. But when I saw this on T.V. last week, the lady making it said, "anybody can make this." So I did! My husband ate about half of it himself and then had what was left for breakfast this morning.

I'd consider that a pretty good beginning to Fall.

Want the recipe? Click here.

Finding the Magic!

2011-09-13T08:36:00.001-06:00

I came across this quote this morning and immediately fell in love with it. Then I saw it was by Roald Dahl, one of my all-time favorite children's authors! (You know, James and the Giant Peach, Matilda, etc.).

So I'm off to find the magic for today... I hope you do the same!

Settling In

2011-09-08T15:45:00.002-06:00

So this is what I'm calling my "settling in" week. This morning I spent a few hours sorting and packing and organizing all the stuff I brought home from school. Which lead to cleaning out the basement closet. Which lead to organizing the basement cabinets. Which lead, of course, to cleaning out the upstairs hallway. And the laundry room.

Who says I quit working?

Thankfully, I was rescued at 12:45 by a friend who showed up in her red convertible Alfa Romeo. We went to lunch, drove around in the car, and stole tomatoes from my grandma's garden.

Holy Moly! I Quit My Job!

2011-09-06T13:14:00.000-06:00

Today is the first day of kindergarten. And I'm not there! It may be absolute insanity to quit your job in the middle of one of the worst economies in history, but I had to do it. During this absolutely fabulous summer, in which I hiked, camped, boated, and swam, there was a little thought nagging me. But I ignored it. The thought kept nagging on, and I kept ignoring. Then it was time for teachers to go back to school. I told myself I could do it. By day 3, I knew what I had to do. So I did. It was tough. But once I made the decision, oh what relief I felt! The nagging thought was, "My kids first. Other people's kids second." Not that I don't like other people's kids. I do. But I love mine the most. And I know what you're thinking. But it's not the case. I leave before my kids do. I'm often not home before mine get home. I very often bring my own work home, making me unable or too tired to help them with their school work. In other words, I was putting it all into my job and not saving much for them.

Six years. That's how long I have until my daughter goes to college. We've lived in Utah for six years and the time has flown by like THAT (imagine finger snapping). When I told her I quit my job, she threw her arms into the air and cheered. That was all I needed to know I'd made the right decision.

As I drove my third grader to school this morning, he was almost giddy that he was in the front seat of our Tahoe, rather than on the bus. "This is so awesome," he giggled.

My kids first.

Beyond that, I feel so liberated! My mind is swimming with possibilities. I get to volunteer in my kids' classrooms. I have lots of time to WRITE. There are two pieces of furniture in my basement that I'm going to refinish. I'm going to figure out what the heck that noise is coming from the rear end of my car. It's like the Renaissance is starting and I'm the one holding the paint brush. SWEET! The possibilities are endless. Thankfully I have an awesome hubby who is a much harder worker than I am, and is supportive of whatever I do.

So it's a little like starting over, but in a really, really good way. I'm refocusing. I'm re-prioritizing. If we end up needing the money, we'll find a way. I saw this quote a while back, and I am inspired:

"Your journey has molded you for your greater good, and it was exactly what it needed to be. Don't think that you've lost time. It took each and every situation you have encountered to bring you to the now. AND NOW IS THE RIGHT TIME."

**yay!**

A Day at the Lake

2011-07-15T11:40:00.001-06:00

Yesterday some friends invited us out to Deer Creek. It's not within my abilities to turn down an offer like that!

Mt. Timpanogos rising above Deer Creek

(yes, there's still snow on it in July)

Jamison doing a dance to coax his friend into the water

The cutest twelve-year-old I know

I think they enjoyed themselves...

Ah... my happy place

Seattle in 24 Hours

2011-07-13T14:42:00.011-06:00

I recently returned from a one-day trip to Seattle, where I got to test drive the new 2012 Nissan Versa (but that's another story). This marks my second one-day trip to Seattle, and my second trip to Seattle, ever. One of these days, I'll actually spend more time there, but here's what I saw in 24 hours:

Mt. Ranier (from my airplane)

The T.V. in my hotel room (how cool that it says my name?!?)

Chittenden Locks

Flowers in a pretty garden

Need I say more?

Ranier cherries...mmmm!

Safeco Field (home of the Seattle Mariners)

View from the Space Needle

View OF the Space Needle

Not bad for a day, huh?

Let Them Be Little

2011-07-01T08:01:00.004-06:00

Ah, summer. Sunshine, shorts, watermelon, and ceiling fans. I am a lover of all things summer. Even my birthday falls in the summer - how depressing to have a winter birthday! One of the best things about summer is the road trip. We took one last week, to St. George, UT. It's down in the corner of the state, full of heat, red rocks, and beautiful golf courses. We took advantage of all of them.

I know I've mentioned that I try to feed my kids healthy things. Except on road trips. All bets are off. Gimme a greasy burger and some piping hot fries and I am one happy road tripper. So you can imagine I was a little disheartened at the local Jack-In-the-Box, when a small sign read, "Kids' meals will no longer include a toy. Apple slices available upon request."

What the?

Jamison was even more disappointed when he opened his bag. "I thought we were in St. George, NOT San Francisco." That boy is sharp.

Please. The name of your establishment is JACK IN THE BOX. Your mascot is a toy in a suit!

Later on, I saw a sign meant to hang on a child's doorknob. It simply said, "Let them be little."

Indeed.

The Streak is Over

2011-06-28T21:47:00.002-06:00

Twenty three years ago, my great-grandmother died and we made the looooonnngg 7-hour drive from Casa Grande, Arizona to Escalante, UT for the funeral. After the service, a dinner was provided for our family at the church. I had some potato salad. I think it was left over from someone's Thanksgiving dinner, which would have been a week before the funeral. Within an hour of the dinner, everything on my inside wanted to be on my outside. The drive home was a joy ride.

Needless to say, I haven't had potato salad in 23 years.

Until today. Who knew that a back yard picnic for my son's cub scout pack meeting would be the place I would bravely try the summer staple? I liked it, and as for my stomach, so far so good.

Which just goes to show... don't be afraid to try new (or old) things.

Oh, That's Where I've Been

2011-06-26T21:44:00.002-06:00

The end of school usually ushers in the care-free, stress-free, lazy days of summer.

Usually.

But first there was girls camp to plan and prep for, and then execute. I think it was a success.

Then there was a parade in which my daughter appeared and at which my mother-in-law fell and broke her hip. Then of course, there was emergency hip-replacement surgery, not to mention the subsequent rehab.

Next came WIFYR, a week-long writing conference that was easily the best writing conference I've ever attended.

We managed to squeeze in a Father's Day cook-out.

Finally, one of those lazy, care-free days showed up. We saw a movie, had lunch, and watched Jamison make an amazing catch at his baseball game.

Then there was six weeks' worth of neglect to make up for in chores. I discovered that I hoard buttons... not on purpose.

Then my dad came, which forced us into a few more of those lazy, care-free, let's go hiking and fishing and to a car show types of days.

Tomorrow? Who knows? But it's nearly the 4th of July and I've got to get to work on my tan!

Rennaisance Man

2011-06-04T21:16:00.003-06:00

Saw this advertisement on the window of a Jeep.
Now that's what I call a Jack-of-all-Trades.

Drowning

2011-05-31T18:54:00.004-06:00

Note to self: put up a Post-it in a permanent place to remind me how busy the last weeks of school are. There are permanent files to file. There are report cards to complete. There are field trips and assemblies to be had. There is testing to finish and there are parties to plan. There are lessons to plan that will keep kids' interest until June.

And then there are the things from the other side of the teacher's desk. There are teacher gifts to remember and thank you notes to write. There are permission slips to sign. There are registration papers to fill out. There are field days to attend and field trips to chaperone. There are lunches to be made, despite noses that crinkle up at the thought of a real piece of fruit. There are after-school activities to drive to, and if I can just hold on for a few more days, they will simply be activities peppered in between the boredom.

Boredom. What's that like?

Do you ever feel like you're drowning in a sea of never-ending stuff to do? Even when there's Nothing to do, there's always Something to do. At some point, I am not going to look tired. People are going to quit telling me I look tired. That will be nice. Today someone told me that I look like a certain, pretty local news reporter. That was very nice. I've seen her on t.v. and she never looks tired.

She's obviously not a teacher.

Or a mom.

P.S. Yesterday my husband turned 41, and concerned for his aging father, my 8-year-old son said "I hope your thumbs don't fall off."

Happy Things

2011-05-28T16:27:00.001-06:00

When I was a little kid, we lived in Heber City, Utah, which is where I currently work. One of my favorite things to do was to make the five-minute drive to Midway (which is where I currently live) and go to the Timp Freeze for an ice cream cone. The reason I loved their ice cream cones was because they always gave you a little toy surprise in the cone. Sometimes it was a sword. Other times it was a dinosaur. When we moved to Midway three years ago, I was a little disappointed to see that the Timp Freeze was nothing but a shell of a once great ice cream stand.

But then... there was a glimmer of hope. The Timp Freeze got a fresh coat of paint. Someone hung up a sign that said "Opening Soon." Well, "Soon" happened today. I took my daughter down the hill and we stepped into the shiny new place. I have to admit, my heart fluttered a little. If I ordered an ice cream cone, would it come with a toy? I was too chicken to ask. I just wanted to be surprised. I just wanted to feel like a kid for a minute. So I ordered a cone. My daughter was too overcome by the scent of cheeseburgers on the grill to think about ice cream, but me? I just wanted a cone. And with any luck, I'd get one with a toy. Thirty seconds later, the girl behind the counter handed me this:

Life is good.

A Glimpse of Things to Come

2011-05-22T09:49:00.003-06:00

Last week our daughter turned twelve. We don't typically do birthday parties, but this year we caved in and allowed her to invite twelve giggling, squealing, sreaming 'tweens over for lemon cupcakes and a Wii dance party.

Things spoken during the festivities:

My husband was outside grilling hotdogs. He needed a plate from the kitchen. He said to me, "You go get it. Everytime I walk in there, they stop talking."

In hopes of joining the dance party upstairs, our eight-year-old son came downstairs and said, "Mom, check out these awesome dance moves I've been working on!" I quickly called a friend to come over and keep him company.

More than once, and from more than one attendee, I heard, "Taylor Lautner is so HAWT!"

Finally, as my husband and I were banned to the garage to enjoy our hotdogs and lemon cupcakes, he asked, "How did this happen? Why are WE the ones in the garage?"

I licked my strawberry frosting and said, "Welcome to the future. Get used to it."

Little Self-Discoveries

2011-05-19T16:58:00.002-06:00

I am quite adept, it seems, at putting on lipstick without the benefit of a mirror. My favorite lipstick? Baby Lips by Laura Mercier.

I am a horrible cheat. I decided to quit drinking Coke about six weeks ago. And then I decided to quit drinking soda all together. And then I discovered these yummy little cans of sparkling fruit juice at Costco. After reading the label many many times, I decided they do NOT count as soda. Nor does a green apple slush from our local burger joint. The verdict is still out on coke-flavored slurpees.

Speaking of burger joints, I will go to my grave defending an In N Out cheeseburger with a whole grilled onion as THE best burger in the universe. And it's just as good with water as it is with an icy cold Coke.

Speaking of the Universe, I am more than a little disappointed that the Space Shuttle program is over. That would be the nerd in me. One of my bucket list items was to go to a live launch. Hopefully something just as good or better will come along in the future. Until then, I'll be thinking up a way to be an extra on a Star Trek movie.

Finally, I like to drive fast. I've been driving my husband's little Imprezza RS for the last few weeks, and that car is happiest when going 75 or above. I'm planning to explain that to the officer if I am ever pulled over.

A Conversation

2011-05-11T15:57:00.004-06:00

The conversation at our house this morning circled around food. Before I even made it out of my bathroom, my daughter asked if she could have some certain cookies for her lunch.

"Grab an apple," I said.

"But I already have a yogurt and that has fruit in it."

"So?"

"That's like having two fruits."

"And the problem is...?"

She went to the pantry and dug out a container of apple sauce, which had fermented. Thankfully we tested it before she got to school.

"There's a crisper drawer full of real apples," I suggested. She rolled her eyes at me.

A few minutes later, my son said, "Mom, I need a snack for my lunch." I repeated what I had told his sister. "But I already have blueberries," was his reply.

"So?" I know I'm asking for it when I say that.

"So NOBODY ever takes two fruits in their lunch. EVERYBODY takes at least two snacks - and you're telling me I can't even have ONE?"

My reply: "First of all, you're not Donald Trump, so quit speaking in superlatives. Second of all, fruit IS a snack. What kind of snacks does EVERYONE have?"

"Fruit roll-ups, fruit by the foot, fruit snacks, chips..."

I couldn't resist. "How sad for them. There is a fridge full of REAL fruit in this house. Aren't you lucky? And when you say 'snack' you mean junk food. So ask me for junk food."

"But if I ask for junk food, you'll say NO!"

"I think you're getting it, kid."

He rolled his eyes at me and opted for a cherry yogurt.

"Why don't you ever let us have junk food?" He asked in that very whiny, spoiled-brat kind of voice that gives me immediate desires to take away all happiness forever.

"I believe you enjoyed both jolly ranchers and a fireball after school yesterday. And what about that bowl of ice cream after dinner? You get plenty without me actually giving it to you on purpose. I want you to grow up and have a long, healthy life, even if it means griping at me forever."

A pouty look was all I got in response.

"If you want to grow up and be a famous scientist/inventor, you need a good, healthy, strong brain, and fruit by the foot is not the answer."

Being the typical mom that I am, I couldn't resist one parting shot before I left for work.

"I don't think Einstein ate a single Fruit by the Foot EVER!"

My Middle School Initiation

2011-05-04T16:02:00.003-06:00

I'm old and I'm cheap. But that's okay.

A little background: my daughter, who is about to turn twelve, has had a favorite store for the last 2-3 years called Justice. I can't stand it. Their clothes are expensive, for the most part ugly, and poor quality.

Last week, she came home from school and announced, "I think I'm pretty much over Justice." I breathed a small sigh of relief. "I want to start shopping at Aeropostale."

"Why?" I asked.

"Well, Sophie's mom took her shopping there, and she got a ton of cute stuff!"

Thank you, Sophie's Mom, for what follows.

Yesterday, I was out and about, when I decided to pop into Aeropostale and check things out. I thought I'd do a little birthday shopping. I found "a ton of cute stuff," all from the clearance racks. I mean, why would I buy a $24 yellow polo when I could buy one in a slightly different shade of yellow for $4?

So I took my picks up to the register, where the sales clerks, who were half my age and who had half my wisdom, proceeded to ring me out. We chatted, and I learned that this was a favorite store of many middle-schoolers. "Yeah," said Clerk 1, "lots of middle-school kids shop here, but it's not a great place for moms like you to buy clothes." As if I would want to wear shorts that were made of nothing more than a waist band and a pocket (nor would I want my daughter to wear them - but that's another post).

Clerk #2 whispered to me, "It's also a great place for CHEAP people to shop."

Oh just wait girls.

Evolution of a Mood

2011-04-26T13:57:00.012-06:00

I woke up in a ridiculously bad mood today.
Can you guess why?

I was very well tempted to call in sick to work. I am sick of this weather. But I didn't. Instead I went to work and pretended to be happy for other people's children. As the snow pelted my face during recess duty, I thought of ways to lift my spirits. Historically, I turn to one of two things for therapeutic purposes: cleaning or cooking. Today I opted for cooking. Set to music. And then I cleaned the kitchen. I think it worked.

Could there BE a better song to cheer you up on a snowy day at the end of April?

Don't fresh veggies look pretty when they're being sauteed? The colors remind me of a beach towel.

And then I ended up with something that looked like a Hawaiian sunset. (I've never been to Hawaii, so I'm just assuming here).

Of course a hot bowl of pasta with homemade sauce is just the thing to warm you up when it's cold outside.

Even the little flowers on the window sill started to perk up.

And so did I.

Ready, Set, Go

2011-04-04T15:01:00.003-06:00

My husband gave me a watch for Christmas. I love watches. The watch he gave me is a designer watch. It's soooo pretty. It's gold and shiny and it has lots of pretty little dials. So this watch got me to thinking. I'm not someone who usually cares about designer-type, fancy-schmancy things. I'm just as happy with a ten-dollar watch from Target as I am with the one currently on my wrist. I know people say things like that all the time, but I really mean it. I was completely shocked and awe-struck at this fine gift. Dan simply said, "you deserve it." I guess that's the part that got me thinking. I do deserve certain things life. Don't we all? At the very least, I deserve to go after the things I want. And the thing I really want is to write books. So I have been writing and revising, editing and submitting. I've heard back from two publishers, both of whom said something to the effect of, we like it, we think you're publishable, it's just not for us at this time. And so the hunt continues. But that's okay. It's nice to be told by multiple publishers that I am publishable. It would be nicer to be told they would like to publish me, but that will happen eventually. Hopefully soon. So I signed up for a conference. A big one. I'm excited. I know of a few writers who got their breaks as a result of this conference. One of them is teaching the class I will be attending. So look out Book Industry. I'm coming after YOU!

And We're Back

2011-04-03T08:48:00.006-06:00

I heard once that fall is a fickle season. If that's true, then what the heck does that make spring?
Here's what we woke up to today. Thankfully, Dan is currently in the kitchen making his famous Oh Boy! Waffles and buttermilk syrup. I don't drink, so I have to drown my sorrows somehow.

Oh Happy Day!

2011-04-02T15:41:00.005-06:00

Today we did something we haven't been able to do in months. We went to the park! It was 70 degrees outside! Nevermind that it is raining and thundering right now; we went to the park! We played catch and swung on the swings. Today is the springiest spring day yet... We're all giddy with delight!

Swiss Miss

2011-04-01T17:10:00.002-06:00

March was truly one of the busiest months for me that I can remember in a long time. I've had busy days, busy weeks, but a busy month? This is one fool who is glad that it's April 1st.

One of the biggest contributing factors to my busy-ness was a little thing called the Swiss Miss Pageant. The first settlers of Midway were Swiss immigrants, and their descendants are mighty proud of that fact. Many of the houses here (including the one I live in) are based on Swiss-themed architecture. The bell tower at the local resort plays Edelweiss* at 4:00 every day in the summer. We also have Swiss Days, a two-day festival before Labor Day that causes the entire state of Utah to descend upon our tiny town. And every year in March, there's the Swiss Miss Pageant. Local girls, age 9-13 can try out, and if so crowned, five of them become Midway's ambassadors for the year. My daughter was so crowned. And my year just got a whole lot busier.

But I am bursting at the seams for this kid. She's a good one. She came home two months ago and said, "I think I want to try out for Swiss Miss." I am sooooo NOT a pageant person. But she dedicated herself to it, practiced a piano piece for the talent number, and kept a positive attitude the entire time. The day after winning the pageant, trophy in hand, she said, "I'm a little nervous about seeing my friends at church. I don't want them to feel bad because they didn't get in." I told her that as long as she left the trophy at home, I didn't think she had anything to worry about.

Three days after winning the pageant, she played an original composition on the piano at her great-grandmother's funeral. I had the vantage point of being able to see everybody's faces as she played. There are times when I have been proud of her, but that one takes the cake.

Five days after winning the pageant, she brought home a straight-A report card.

I know. I know. Nobody likes to hear someone go on and on about how wonderful their children are. But sometimes, a mom's gotta brag.

*Yes, I am aware that Edelweiss is the AUSTRIAN national flower (but nobody in Midway seems to care).

Meet the In-Laws

2011-03-29T20:05:00.002-06:00

When I got married, I lucked out in the in-law department. Today we held the funeral for my husband's grandmother. Today I saw the best in his family.

Ted, my father-in-law is loud and boisterous, and as generous a person as anyone I've ever known. A loyal Mercedes owner, my favorite story to tell about him goes like this: He had an e-class he wanted to trade in. Disgusted by the low-ball offer he was given, he said to the guy, "You dirty bastard! I'd just as soon park it in my back yard and let my grand kids play on it!" Who HASN'T wanted to say something like that to a car salesman at one time or another?

My mother-in-law, Pat, is sweet and kind and has friends all over the world. The thing I love about her is that she never uses her age as an excuse to keep from doing anything. She snow skis, water skis, shops me to my knees, and keeps up with with the latest tech. A proud grandma, her camera is never far from reach.

Julie and Susan (Susie to us) are the two big sisters I never had. Julie is smart and witty. Susie is the person who brightens everybody's doorway. My kids love raiding her candy drawer.

Scott is the big brother I never had. Scott is a sea of calm. But don't let the mild-mannered look fool you. He was in a gang when he was a kid. They called themselves Phantom Fear and walked the streets of their suburban Salt Lake City neighborhood armed with nunchucks. They made one unsuccessful attempt to buy beer.

Chris is the little brother. I already have two of my own little brothers, and I gladly add him to my little collection. Chris is funny and likes my cooking, so naturally I like him. He often gets made fun of for some of the dumb things he did as a kid, but he has recently redeemed himself by spending time with a very smart and very gorgeous blonde named Kim. If he doesn't marry her soon, I just may marry her myself. But I'd really prefer if he'd marry her instead.

Today I listened and watched as each of them spoke of their grandmother and supported each other in their loss. I can't count how many times the words "I love you" were spoken. Are we perfect? Hardly. But I wouldn't have them any other way.

A List

2011-03-17T15:11:00.002-06:00

A green plant on the kitchen window sill
The first, teeniest buds on the trees
A fresh new tablecloth
Cookies in the oven

It really IS the little things...

Life Goes On

2011-03-15T21:26:00.003-06:00

I am intrigued by disasters. Like a magnet, I am especially drawn to airplanes and earthquakes. As a kid I read up on The Great San Francisco Earthquake like it was going out of style. And I just couldn't get enough of Amelia Earhart. It's the science of it all, I think.

So as you can imagine, I have been riveted by anything coming from Japan. And as usual, at first it was the science of it all. Facts like it sped up the Earth's rotation, shifted the axis, and moved the entire island of Japan several feet to the east... that's like information heaven for a nerd like me.

Then the human toll started to sink in.

My husband and I went to Japan several years ago. It's a beautiful place. We rode the bullet trains and saw the incredible countryside, dotted by Buddhist temples, framed by cherry blossoms. Mount Fuji is even bigger in person. Tokyo is a sea of humanity. I don't even know how to describe what the street looked like when the rush hour trains emptied out. I know I've never seen more people in one place at one time.

Hiroshima is a place that brings you to your knees as you take in what happened there in 1946.

And the food. Oh, the food. I brought home some cookbooks, but have yet to perfectly replicate anything as good as it was over there. But of course, the best thing about the trip was the people. The people were gracious and funny. And kind. And warm. We sang karaoke with our friends and shared a meal that a Sumo wrestler would eat on his own. We laughed until I thought my face would freeze that way. And except for the whole kidnapping thing, I would have brought home a couple of armfuls of beautiful Japanese children.

So maybe what happened on Friday has a little bit of personal meaning for me.

And that got me thinking. Horrible, terrible things happen all over the world. I have no control over that, which is a very hopeless feeling. Even right now, our family is dealing with a Grandma in hospice, whose days on this Earth are drawing to a close. But life goes on. Yes, I can send my widow's mite to the relief effort. I can pray. I can get my 72-hour kits together so that I'm prepared if a disaster strikes here. But even more importantly, I can do good, right here in my little corner of the globe. Just like a Tsunami, goodness spreads. Today I made a head wreath for my very confident daughter, who needs it for her upcoming pageant. Recently I have marveled at her ability to speak words of comfort to her dying great-grandmother; to play little songs for her on the piano. Today I also helped my son with his science fair project. We built a salt water alarm. He said, "Hey Mom, if salt water is ocean water, then this could work to warn people when a Tsunami is coming, right?"

Who knows what good that might lead to in a few years? I can't wait to find out.

Your Mom Went to College...

2011-03-10T15:29:00.002-07:00

At the risk of disclosing my real age, I'll begin by saying that I graduated from college sometime during the 20th century.

When I went back to teaching three years ago, I had a lot of catching up to do. In the ten years since I had become a stay-home mom, policies had come and gone, they were speaking a whole new language that I had never been a part of, and kindergarten somehow became less about getting along and more about reading actual books.

There were certain requirements I had to meet in order to get my teaching certificate updated. Among other things, I had to take a two-part test known as the Praxis. I was given a year to take the first part and three years to take the second part. I took the first part at the end of my first year. It was more like a big trivia quiz than a test. I'm really good at trivia. My mind is a steel trap for all kinds of useless information. For instance, did you know that babies don't have knee caps until they're three years old? Needless to say, I nailed it. I even got a special certificate in the mail because I scored so exceptionally high on it, along with a letter stating that I am truly dedicated to my profession for being so knowledgeable in so many areas. Whatever. Useless information.

In two days I will be taking the second part of the Praxis. I've been studying. And I'm worried. This is the stuff that I learned in college. You know, back in the late 20th century. I have to know the names of behaviorists and their theories and tell how I would apply their expertise in my classroom. I need to remember the difference between Piaget and Maslow. Does anyone out there even understand Constructivist Theory?

What I'm saying is, I know how to apply it, I just can't remember what it's called.

I learned more about teaching from motherhood than I ever did in college. Teaching is about common sense. If a kid does something right, praise them. If a kid does something wrong, let them know and praise them for trying harder. Be enthusiastic. If you love to learn, so will they. Be consistent and follow through with consequences. I before E except after C. AND BAND-AIDS FIX EVERYTHING.

It's just too bad there won't be anything on the test about band-aids.

The Most Expensive Bag of Spinach Ever

2011-03-08T13:26:00.003-07:00

Yesterday I wanted to make a stromboli for dinner, but I was short one bag of frozen spinach. I decided I would pick up my daughter at the bus stop and then make a quick trip to The Store for the spinach. It ended up costing me $162.00.

We've all established that I love where I live. We make Norman Rockwell's paintings look like they were done in downtown Beirut. Well, almost.

Yesterday, my daughter and I were the victims of a drive-by shooting. I was doing the driving, should you have any question. We were driving along the road, behind the town square, when I heard and felt a loud pop. It sounded like something had hit the side of my car. When I turned to look back, the rear passenger window was completely shattered, held together only by the tinting film. The tell-tale BB gun bullet hole was easily noticeable. My daughter, thankfully was sitting in the rear driver's side seat; she pulled a few shards of glass from her wool ski cap.

Not cool.

Knowing that the glass wouldn't hold long against the rain and the snow, I bee-lined it for the glass repair shop. The whole window fell out as soon I parked. The lady behind the computer looked up the proper window and said "I can get you one for $160.00. Do you want me to order it?"

As the rain blew into my car's backseat, I wanted to say, "Nooooo. I think I'll shop around." So they covered it with plastic and the window will be here tomorrow.

When I got home, I called the Sheriff's Department, wanting to report that I was the victim of a shooting. Honestly, I know nothing can be done, but if it happened again, they would at least have someone else on record as well. When I stated what happened, the person taking my call asked, "Did you see who did it?"

Unfortunately I hadn't, as I was busy making sure my daughter wasn't BLEEDING TO DEATH.

"Well, sometimes windows tend to crack on their own," he suggested.

Yes, they crack on their own WHEN hit by a BB gun.

Bag of spinach: $2.oo
New window: $160.00
Having a great story to tell: priceless.

Sometimes...

2011-03-02T13:53:00.003-07:00

Last night my son said something that pierced me right through the heart.

When my husband and I got married, one of our many topics of conversation included how many kids we wanted. We always thought 3 or 4 would suit us just fine. But, like so many things in life, things don't always go the way you've got planned. As I've mentioned before, pregnancy and I do not get along... to the tune of 5 miscarriages. And I'm suspicious it might even be 7. We never got a real explanation as to why, except that my body doesn't produce enough of the hormone needed to sustain a pregnancy. I'm good at getting pregnant; just a slacker when it comes to staying pregnant.

Anyway, we're absolutely thrilled and blessed to have the two children we have. It did, however, take me a long time to accept the fact that two was our number. But I got over it, made my peace with it, and we're in a really good place now. We're past all the baby stuff, we're not as tied down, we go on great family trips; and I can run errands with nothing but my cell phone and my wallet (and my chapstick, of course).

However, no matter how far you think you might be past something, the littlest of things can still hurt. Last night my son said that when he grows up and has kids, they're not going to have an uncle, and that made him sad. Which made me sad. It's not true, of course. His sister's husband will be their uncle, and he better be the best uncle on the whole damn planet. Also, I'm a solid believer in the whole eternal life concept, so I'm gonna be busy raising 5-7 kids in the afterlife. Does that sound like heaven to you?

But I digress. I was surprised at how sad that little statement made me. I had to go away and cry for a few minutes. I woke up with a sigh this morning. I realized that the pain and disappointment of miscarriage will never ever fully go away. But that's okay. I've got something to look forward to later on. And the happiness will be exquisite.

I write this not for sympathy. I've had plenty of that. I write this for two reasons: 1. Sometimes it helps to write through the pain. 2. If you know of anyone who has had a miscarriage, send them this way. No one understands like someone who's been through it.

What it comes down to is this: miscarriage sucks. Of the many injustices in life, this is one of the biggest. How the most irresponsible, drug-abusing, child-abusing people can have baby after baby (I've taught some of them) and other people can't, is something beyond explanation to me. It stinks to say good-bye to someone you've never even met. Sometimes you don't even get to say good-bye. You wake up from surgery, are given a pain pill, and get sent on your merry way. You have to mourn and grieve without closure. But there's still hope. Life goes on. You can be happy. God will work it out in the end.

You might feel the sad from time to time, but that just makes you appreciate the happy even more.

An Object Lesson

2011-02-23T11:55:00.004-07:00

When someone is interested in learning about the Mormon church, the first lesson the missionaries teach them is called The Plan of Salvation. In a nutshell, God rejected Lucifer's plan to force us into submission, while taking on the glory for himself. God accepted Jesus Christ's plan to offer himself up as a sacrifice so that we might gain eternal life, while glorifying his Father. When Christ's plan was accepted, we believe that 1/3 of the host of Heaven chose to follow Lucifer and left the presence of God. The rest of us (and by us I mean everyone ever born on planet Earth) chose to follow Christ, and here we are.

Several weeks ago, Jamison learned this lesson in his Sunday School class. He came home and summed it up thusly:

"There was this guy, only I don't remember his name, but I know it was Satan. He had a plan and he wanted to take all of Heavenly Father's stuff. But then, there was another man, who also had a plan, and he said 'I will do it and you can keep all of your stuff.' And that man was Jesus Christ. So Heavenly Father said, 'Okay, let's go with Jesus' plan' and then some people got mad; like 1/3 of them, so they walked out and left with that other guy, you know, Satan."

After explaining this, he ran upstairs and came back down with a box of legos. "Can you make me a statue of Jesus?" he asked.

Dan made a little figure out of the legos and then handed it back to Jamison. "Thanks," he said, "now I can finish my lesson." We hadn't realized he wasn't done yet. He placed the lego Jesus on the floor and then kicked its head off, which went flying across the living room floor. "And THAT'S how Jesus felt when all those other people left with Lucifer! He felt like he got KICKED IN THE HEAD!"

Needless to say, THAT is one object lesson I will never forget.

Want to know the actual and more accurate version of this lesson? Click here.

Time For Some Uncommon Sense

2011-02-18T15:54:00.005-07:00

As I sit here inhaling a cupful of leftover conversation hearts, I'm thinking about food. I love it. My penchant for donuts is no secret. But I did have a green smoothie for breakfast and an avocado sandwich for lunch. So here goes nothing.

An Open Letter to California:

Dear California,

I love your beaches. I love your sunshine. Disneyland? Fuhgeddaboudit. But I think all that sunshine has burned your brains.

A woman is suing McDonalds because she's tired of them "getting into her kids' heads." Really?!? You're the parent. It's in your job description to say "no." I do it all the time. Sometimes it's even fun. Try it. You might like it.

San Francisco went so far as to pass a measure banning toys from Happy Meals. So now it's just a meal, but still a meal nonetheless. Again, to quote Nancy Reagan, "just say no." I've got a suggestion for all Bay Area McDonalds franchises: Put a one dollar bill in all your happy meals. It's certainly not a toy, and I bet you'll sell more happy meals than ever.

Another Californian is suing Taco Bell because their meat isn't all meat (some of it is oats). Wha???? Is this REALLY a surprise to any of us? And by the way, have you HAD a Taco Bell Grande? It's delicious.

Still, another woman is suing Nutella for not being healthy. It's a JAR of CHOCOLATE. And mighty tasty, I might add. Newsflash: if you want to have something healthy, DON'T EAT NUTELLA. Try a celery stick for crying out loud. When I was a kid, the only time we got Nutella was when a relative would bring it with them from Holland. When it became widely available in the U.S., I danced in the aisle.

So in conclusion my West Coast Friends, get out of the sun for a while. Relax. I'm a little worried about you. I hear eating chocolate is a great way to relieve stress.

Sincerely,
Cindy

Is it just me?

Valentines and Things of That Nature

2011-02-15T15:31:00.002-07:00

Yesterday I decided that Valentine's Day should always, and I mean always be on a Saturday. As my students darted with raucousness from game to game, craft to craft, I kept thinking, Do you know what they're doing in China* right now? Math. And Science. And they're learning how to become CEO's of mega conglomerates who sell heart-shaped junk to Americans!

Also, Jamison wore his new shirt and delivered his heart-shaped box of chocolates, via a friend. The enclosure read, "To McKardy From ???" I know because I witnessed it first hand as I helped with the valentine party in his classroom. I know, I'm a glutton for punishment.

Later on, when I asked him why he liked her so much, he said, "Well, she is the most popular girl in our class and I am the most popular boy." It's good to know that self-confidence isn't holding him back anytime soon. He also said, "she's really smart and we both want to be scientists when we grow up, and we both have three syllables in our names."**

Back to the party, I was, however, proud of the little game I made up. We played our own version of Minute to Win It, stacking towers of conversation hearts. It was such a hit with the second graders that we played it later at home for family night. Try it with chopsticks. And no, the irony of the chopsticks after my China reference is not lost on me.

*China - I am actually tired of everyone comparing our educational system to theirs. They only educate those they deem worthy, and dictate what they will become. We educate EVERYBODY.

**Update - Jamison just walked in and when I asked him how school went, he said, "McKardy asked me to play with her at recess, so the chocolates must have worked!"

I'm From Wasatch County

2011-02-08T16:24:00.002-07:00

It snowed really hard last night. It was flying in sideways. The wind blew to the point of stinging your face. And yet.

And yet, 1200 people gathered together at our local high school for a benefit dinner and auction. The reason? To raise funds for a local boy who, in a freak accident, broke his neck during wrestling practice. The people of this community are taking what could be a very devastating tragedy and turning it into a miracle.

My daughter proudly wore this shirt to school today. He is known to his friends as "Super Dale" and within a day or two of the accident, these t-shirts started popping up all over town. Another thing you can find all over town, or rather, at every cash register in town, are collection jars, filling to the brim. It's not uncommon to see them stuffed with twenty and fifty-dollar bills.

At the dinner last night, the people came in parkas, but instantly warmed the atmosphere with their smiles, generosity, and general good cheer. They brought their kids and grandparents, neighbors and friends. The food was 100% donated by the local Zermatt Resort - and they even sent all of their executives to serve it. Never has fetuccini tasted so good.

As we moved into the auditorium for the auction, Dale's mother said a few tearful words, bringing the rest of us to tears. I couldn't help but feel gratitude for my two children, bouncing in their seats, as her son lay in a hospital bed, motionless. As the auction began, I was amazed at the goods that had been donated: power tools, flat screen televisions, hand-made furniture, river rafting trips, and the mother of all prizes: a forty-five-dollar cow elk hunting tag that went for six-hundred dollars. Hunting is big here.

So are the hearts.

I love where I live. And this is why.

Laundry Day

2011-02-07T13:53:00.004-07:00

I usually start laundry Mondays when I get home from work. Today when I walked into the laundry room, I found this cute little paper on the washing machine. "How cute," I thought, "Jamison drew me a picture."

If you look close enough, you can see the words "look on back" with an arrow.

"Even better," I thought again, "he wrote me a little note." My heart melted a little.

Allow me to immortalize his words here:

Dear McKardy, You are a good freind. I realy like you, not as in love you or that would be realy werd. I did my best work on this pictur. It steel probaly is not as good as yours!

Sincearly,
Jamison

The plot thickens.
It's a good thing he's cute, 'cause he sure as heck can't spell.

Music To My Ears

2011-02-03T14:20:00.004-07:00

When I was a teenager, my dad and I installed a pretty nice stereo into my piece-of-junk car. I listened to it with the volume cranked to the max. It distracted me from the fact that I was driving a plank on wheels. I'm sure everyone could hear me coming a mile away.

When my daughter came along, I turned the volume down, wanting to protect her tiny ears. As the kids got older, they dictated what we listened to and at what volume (not loud). Last summer, the CD player in my car gave up the ghost. Living way up here in the mountains has its advantages, but good radio reception isn't one of them; so I became an A.M. talk-radio kind of person. Fortunately, I have a short commute.

All of this became a habit and I got to the point where I was driving in silence because well, A.M. radio sucks. Finally, I dug out the old iPod, added the F.M. tuner, and voila: I am back in business. The last few times I've been in my car, the volume is up and the music is good.

Sometimes, all it takes is a little Erasure* to liven up the icy drive to work.

*Erasure: you love 'em and you know it.

Happy Ground Hog Day

2011-02-02T13:09:00.003-07:00

As I sit here in my wool socks and MULTIPLE layers of clothing, I am well aware of the fact that Punxatawney Phil did NOT see his shadow this morning. I just hope that Mother Nature understands the implications of this event and sends the mercury rising very, very soon.

Would You Trust This Face?

2011-02-01T13:12:00.002-07:00

Yesterday, while walking through TJ Maxx, this little boy, in his finest cub scout uniform, looked up at me and said, "I think I need a nice outfit for Valentine's Day."

"A nice outfit?" I said while stifling a smile.

"Well, maybe not a whole outfit, but at least a good-looking shirt or something."

"Why?" (as if I didn't know).

"Because it's Valentine's Day, and I think people should look nice. We ARE having a party at school, remember?"

Uh huh. So when we struck out at TJ Maxx, we wandered across the street to Walmart. We did indeed find a red-striped polo shirt. The thought put into this little item of clothing was something equal to what went into launching the Apollo space mission.

We then found ourselves on the aisle with all the red and pink stuff. The kids each picked out a box of Valentine cards to exchange, and then Jamison wandered a little farther down the aisle to the heart-shaped boxes. The ones with chocolates inside of them. He had it narrowed down to three. The first one was red, with the word "love" spread across its lid. "Hmm. That would be to awkward," he said.

The next box was brown, covered in red and pink hearts. "No, that's still too weird."

He finally decided on the pink one, with little spirals embossed on the lid. Even more surprising, he insisted on paying for it with his own money.

Only eight more years until he's allowed to date. It's going be a long wait.

A Memory

2011-01-31T13:36:00.002-07:00

Let's get something out in the open. The minute my body gets pregnant, my body wants to go into labor. Call me impatient. When I was about six months pregnant with my daughter, I went into full-blown, pre-term labor. It was scary, to say the least. I spent a couple of days in the hospital and then the next three months at home, in bed. I was only allowed out of bed to go to the bathroom. Needless to say, it was sheer torture. I was given a medicine to control the contractions, but it made me all antsy and jittery. So imagine being told to stay in bed but feeling like you need to run a marathon. Or ram your head through a wall.

Let's get something else out in the open. I'm all for eating a healthy, well-balanced diet. But I love food and pregnant or not, I get cravings for sinfully delicious things like raspberry-filled powdered donuts.

While trapped like a caged bird in my own home, I had a craving for the aforementioned donuts. Being the sweet guy my husband is, he ran to the store before work to get me my snack. He came back with glazed, lemon-filled donuts. That would have been great had I not been half out of mind, coo-coo for coco puffs-type delirious with bed-ridden insanity. So he went to work and I cried, helpless to get my own stinking donut. When my mom called to check on me, I told her my little sob story. She went on a mission to search out the correct pastry I so desperately needed. She found glazed, raspberry filled, and even went so far as to explain to the baker the situation, who happily sprinkled some powdered sugar on the glazed donuts. Close, but no cigar. I did, however, happily eat what I could get. Bed-ridden beggars can't be choosers.

Fast-forward nearly twelve years later. I was at The Store a few days ago, when what should catch my eye, but a huge display of Hostess raspberry-filled powdered donuts with a huge two-for-five-dollars sign. I probably hadn't thought about those donuts since that early spring day back in 1999. Naturally, I snatched up a box. They were so good that I went back the next day and got some more.

It only took twelve years and three moves, but my craving was finally satisfied. Life is good.

It Must Be Saturday

2011-01-29T13:18:00.003-07:00

The sick little boy who spent all week going between the couch and my bed is back. He's got his ball cap on and runs everywhere he goes.
The house is clean, the blinds are open, and the sun is shining.
It's freezing outside, but my living room is toasty-warm.
Dad just took the kids for haircuts and shakes;
and I've got a few, peaceful afternoon moments all to myself.

I love Saturdays.

Better Than McCartney

2011-01-24T12:46:00.003-07:00

Last summer, the big news around these parts was when Sir Paul came to town. The fabbest of the four, in my book.

Last week, a new hire at my husband's company came to town to shadow him around for a few days. We took her to dinner and drove her around Park City on the eve of Sundance. I asked her if she'd ever been to Utah before, and she said (in her very cool-sounding South African accent) "Once; I came last summer to see McCartney, but then I flew back home the next morning." She then went on for several long minutes, gushing over his performance. At the age of sixty, she has been a life-long fan.

Through the course of the week, she admitted that she had always loved listening to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir as a young girl in South Africa. She said it had always been a dream of hers to see them perform live. Being the great guy my hubby is, he found a way to make it happen. Though she wouldn't be here for their weekly Sunday performance, she would be here for their weekly Thursday night open rehearsal. So between work and family duties, not to mention looking in on his 93-year-old grandmother who recently took a spill, he managed to get Lynn to the tabernacle on Thursday night. He said her face lit up the second they walked in; and when they walked out, she said (in her very cool-sounding South African accent) "That was better than McCartney!"

Maybe it's because I'm a Mormon and the choir is practically in my back yard, but it makes me wonder, is there anything on my bucket list that would make someone else say, "Oh that's easy. What are you doing on Thursday?" Because if you've got any connections to anyone working on the next Star Trek movie, it just so happens that I'm free on Thursday.

The Brain of a 'Tween

2011-01-21T16:36:00.003-07:00

Warning: celebrity gossip to follow. I really couldn't care less about celebrity gossip, but I promise this is going to be good.

So we've established that I'm a John Mayer fan. He's got the chops, but he's what I like to call a "mimbo." You know, male bimbo. His song, "Half of My Heart," to which Taylor Swift adds some harmony, is up for a grammy.

Yesterday, my sister called to ask me if I'd heard the song "Dear John" by Taylor Swift. She told me it has been rumored that the song is basically for Mr. Mayer, in retaliation for a brief relationship gone wrong.

When I got home, I asked my 11-year-old daughter to grab her Taylor Swift CD and play me the song. Let me tell you, this kid idolizes Taylor Swift. She plays her music, wears her beret, and sings her songs in the shower. So she plays me the song. Then she asks why I wanted to hear it. I tell her it's because the song is supposed to be about John Mayer.

Her reaction: "Oooooo, busted! I'd be mad if I was her too! She sang on one of his songs and she only got to sing the same six words over and over!"

Oh, the innocence. I'm locking this kid in a tower.

True Confessions

2011-01-13T16:47:00.005-07:00

I have a confession.

I talk to myself. It's not inner monologue. I have conversations with myself. Dialogue. I say something, and then I say something back. I discovered this when I got married. I would ask Dear Hubby a question and then answer it out loud, myself. I still do. He's been conditioned to ignore the insanity and answer the questions I'm actually asking of him.

I have another confession.

I day dream. Like a lot. I can watch T.V. but really, I'm just looking at it. I'm actually off in la-la land, thinking about things like what I would wear to a 1950's era cocktail party (a pink chiffon dress, of course). When I read a book, I really have to focus because one word can send me off on some weird tangent and before I know it I am climbing a mountain at lightning speed, thinking about the vikings.

So naturally, there's a good book in there somewhere, right?

Bear Down, Tucson

2011-01-10T12:53:00.004-07:00

Today my thoughts are with my friends in Tucson, Arizona. I love Tucson. I went to college there, and so today my heart hurts. What happened there on Saturday is a complete and utter tragedy.

But what seems to be happening in the aftermath is worse. The swiftness with which blame was thrown, fingers pointed, and violent retaliation was called for happened at near light speed. The cretin who pulled the trigger? It was his fault. Plain and simple.

Today I watched two kids walk down the hallway at school, pretending to be robots. How do we go from the innocence of pretending to be robots to the ill-mannered finger-pointers that have been on the airwaves this weekend?

I'm sick and tired of bad behavior. I'm sick and tired of bad behavior getting all the attention. It seems the louder somebody yells or the more bleeps they can produce on T.V., the more attention they're given. Enough. Enough already.

You want a little dose of reality? Reality isn't T.V. It isn't questioning the paternity of your baby while you spend $300 you didn't earn on a pair of designer jeans you don't need. It isn't calling someone a foul name because they stole your boyfriend. It isn't even sitting in a coffee shop bemoaning your wretched little life.

Reality is standing up and taking responsibility for your own actions. It's earning your keep. It's serving others and taking care of your family. It's doing what's right. All the time. Every time. It's behaving in a civil manner, even when you don't want to. When something goes wrong in your life, and you're looking for someone to blame, look in the mirror.

In Tucson's case, let's blame the guy who pulled the trigger. Let's take a stand against bad behavior. Let's not pay it any attention, except to point it out to our children and say, "don't you EVER DARE behave like that." And then if they do, love them anyway. Then pretend you're a robot and chill out.

Tucson, I love you. I stand with you. May the warmth of the desert warm your hearts and heal your wounds. Bear Down.

Letting Go

2011-01-07T17:59:00.002-07:00

I had what I call an "ah-ha" moment today, and no, I'm not talking about the one-hit-wonder band. But now you're going to be singing "Take On Me" for the next several hours, right?

Anyway... back to my ah-ha moment. I have totally ignored my writing for the last several months. And yet, it keeps nagging me to do something. Begging me. Pleading with me. Sometimes I really wish I didn't want to write. Even when there's nothing in my head (which is quite often) I still want to write. And yet, I go on ignoring it.

So my new year's resolution and theme for 2011 is "let it go and go write." If the dishes don't get done, let it go and go write. Write every day, even if you only edit one word. Sit down with the computer. Delete one word and replace it with another. If you don't take a shower tonight, let it go and go write. Get the picture?

But then today I realized something entirely different. I'm holding onto something that really needs to be let go. My real issue is fear. I'm holding onto it for dear life. I'm afraid to finish anything. Because if I finish anything, then someone else will read it. Why would I open myself up to such vulnerability? Can I really allow other people to see what's going on inside this half-cooked brain of mine? Can I handle it? Can I really be okay with strangers spending their hard-earned cash to buy something I wrote? Can I even get to the point of having something to sell?

The answer of course, is YES.

Confidence, as it were, is not my problem. Fear, on the other hand, keeps getting in my way.

Time to let it go.

Holy Cow! It's 2011!

2011-01-06T14:29:00.002-07:00

Ahem. Happy New Year.

What am I doing? Have you heard of P90X? I've been doing it for about six weeks now, which is more than I've worked out in the last two-and-a-half years. I'm pretty sure it's going to kill me. Or I'm going to have killer arms. One or the other. Dan and I have been getting up at 5 a.m. to do this. Last night, I was forced to go to Zumba as well, which I haven't done since September. It has been a challenge today to remain upright. The last time I did any kind of two-a-days, I was in marching band and twenty years younger.

What am I reading? I'm about 50 pages shy of finishing The Hourglass Door by Lisa Mangum. There's a sweet-talking Italian guy. Need I say more? Very fun. Very mysterious. And it definitely makes me feel twenty years younger.

What am I writing? A story about a mushroom-sized girl and her gigantic best friend.

Also, I found a pair of pinkish-purplish Converse All-Stars for ten bucks.

2011 is off to a good start.

You?

Murphy Christmas

2010-12-23T10:32:00.005-07:00

A Brief Family History:

Historically, we tend to have bad luck when it comes to Christmas vacation. That bad luck typically comes in the form of illness. There was the time that one kid had croup, another kid had pneumonia, and the parents both had the flu. At the same time. We've driven in blizzards, had Christmas trees that refused to remain upright, and even remembered the presents only after the four-hour road trip to Grandma's house. Chances are, if my husband schedules the time off for Christmas, something would go wrong.

This year, we were bound and determined to make it a memorable one. Hubby scheduled the time off months ago. We schemed and plotted and planned to surprise our kids with a trip to Disneyland. We had our hotel. We had our road trip snacks, movies, and games. I secretly packed their clothes. We planned to leave Tuesday afternoon. And then came the Pineapple Express. I'm sure you've heard about it. Southern California is drenched, to put it mildly. Southern Utah is lined with sandbags. Looking at satellite imagery, the storm was directly over the exact route we were going to take. In addition to that, we are buried under SEVERAL feet of snow. There was no way we could safely take our kids on what under the best conditions, would be a 13-hour road trip.

HOWEVER, being the cheerful optimists that we are, we quickly came up with Plan B. We booked a hotel room in downtown Salt Lake City for tonight, where we could swim, eat at a fancy-schmancy restaurant, and take in the beautiful Christmas sights. Yesterday, we even managed to sneak in a trip to Santa's workshop, where we found some pretty awesome Christmas presents. You see, Disneyland WAS THE PRESENT, so we had nothing but a few stocking stuffers. Upon returning from our stealthy shopping spree, we walked into a freezing cold house. The Pineapple Express had struck again, this time by taking out both our furnaces. AT THE SAME TIME. So I called a guy, who said it was happening all over the valley and said he'd never seen anything like it. He was currently working on three houses in Park City. At the same time. He said he would try to get to us sometime during the evening, but if not, he would come first thing in the morning. He's here now. And I'm typing this, at the same time. Fortunately we had a warm place to sleep last night, in the form of my in-laws' vacation home, which is conveniently located 5 minutes away.

Unfortunately, this brings me to the next wrench in the Christmas gears: sickness. Currently, it seems that everything on my inside wants to be on my outside. So the hotel is canceled. The hoity-toity dinner is not an option. City sidewalks and silver bells? I think not.

I tell you this not for sympathy; but for reference. Sometime next summer, when I start dreaming of Christmas Future, and those dang sugar plums start to dance, please, please remind me about this very moment.

Christmas in Bethlehem

2010-12-05T07:32:00.004-07:00

Last night our friends Chuck and Rachelle invited us over for dinner and game night. Delicious and fun, for sure. Stuck to their refrigerator was something that looked like a dead sea scroll. It was actually an invitation to their ward Christmas party (ward = congregation). Full of type-o's, it was written in biblical fashion. Prospective attendees were told that they must dress in ancient Bethlehem-type garb or be turned away. Really. I'm not kidding. Apparently, if you don't show up in your desert sandals in Alpine, Utah in winter, then obviously you're a Scrooge who doesn't understand the true meaning of Christmas.

Chuck and Rachelle would absolutely be invited to my Halloween gala, but I fully realize that Chuck would come in his regular clothes. And I'm okay with that. Chuck was as annoyed with having to show up at his Christmas party in his bathrobe as he was at being turned away for NOT wearing his bathrobe.

In typical Chuck fashion, he was trying to think of a "proper" outfit to wear to the party. His first thought was Bethlehem Jedi. Naturally, the rest of the evening was peppered with suggestions:

Bethlehem Avatar
Bethlehem rock star (Gene Simmons to be more precise)
Bethlehem plumber (with a loin cloth worn a little too low)

And the list goes on. Please post your suggestions here and I will pass them along to Chuck, an artist/pharmacist. If your suggestion is picked, I'm sure he'll be happy to paint your face in the style of KISS/Gene Simmons.

Heard Around My House

2010-11-13T19:34:00.002-07:00

The following is a random list of things my children have said to me this week:

Not to make you mad or anything, but when you walked across the kitchen just now, I could seriously feel the floor shake.

Hey Mom, can you open this?

Seriously, you need to get me a flight simulator.

Hey Mom, can you open this?

I'm guessing since you just made bread, I can't have school lunch?

Hey Mom, can you help me with this?

Why are you driving DAD'S car? Is that even allowed?

Hey Mom, have you seen my ______________? (Fill in the blank)

Oh come on! Chicken again? You HAVE GOT to be kidding me.

Hey Mom, can you pick up my ziggurat?

Why hasn't anyone invented flying shoes yet?

Hey Mom, can you sign this?

That stuff you're mopping the floor with smells like cherry chocolate ice cream.

Hey Mom, do you have a magic eraser? I ACCIDENTALLY did something.

It was an ACCIDENT!!! (A different "accident").

Hey Mom, how do you turn this math problem into a percent?

Why is your shirt so puffy?

Question: where does a kindergarten teacher go when she needs a mommy break?

Sigh

2010-11-09T13:25:00.003-07:00

I've been thinking lately. Scary, I know. But sometimes, I am really embarrassed for my gender. There's a woman I know who recently suffered a miscarriage. I don't think you can fully understand the scope of feelings you go through when such a thing happens. There's grief and mourning. Yes, grief and mourning and loss for someone you never even got to say hello to. And yet they were a part of you. Then there's anger. Oh, the anger. Don't forget confusion. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about.

So back to my friend. There was a heartbeat. And then there wasn't. And now she's mourning. And what do I hear out there in universe? "Why on earth would she have another kid?" "She only got pregnant to hang on to her husband."

Upon my third miscarriage, I actually had someone suggest to me that perhaps God was punishing me for some misdeed from my past, and that maybe if I repented, the problem would be solved. (As if that's the way God does things). Thanks for the compassion, right?

WHY do we do this to each other? Why are we mean? Why do we gossip? Let's help each other. Let's build each other up. Let's take each other a pot of soup and say, "I'm sorry you're suffering. How can I help?" Let's keep our hurtful, negative comments to ourselves. Let's spread supportive words of kindness like wildfire. Let's make only one assumption about anyone we ever know or meet: that they are doing their best. Can you imagine the burdens you will lighten if you did that? Including your own?

Signs

2010-11-04T17:24:00.003-06:00

Sometimes, and only sometimes, sitting on the couch feels really, really good. Yesterday, every single knuckle in both hands protested use. Every now and then I find a single, silvery hair amongst the nest of black. As I type this, my husband's fancy infrared therapy machine is doing its thing to my right knee. Finally, and perhaps most telling, as much as it pains me to admit, I think the new Buicks rolling off the assembly line are quite beautiful.

What Do Pipe Cleaners, A Third World Country, and Ebay Have in Common?

2010-11-02T13:51:00.004-06:00

Stay with me. Randomness to follow.

I woke up confused this morning. It only got worse from there. My hair had a mind of its own. I forgot my pipe cleaners (an important kindergarten necessity) and my herbal tea. Thankfully my school is in the back yard of the grocery store. I paid for my new pipe cleaners at the self-check. Of course, they rang up at more than twice the price they were supposed to be. And of course, there was no one around to fix it. And, and of course, I was late for a meeting. So I forked out the extra cash. I know what you're thinking. How much can pipe cleaners be? It's really the principle of the matter. I was at the same grocery store yesterday, and instead of bagging my groceries, the bag girl was texting on her phone. It was probably something like "bggng sux. wut r u doing? lol." I'll be shopping elsewhere in the future; except of course, when I'm in a hurry and need some pipe cleaners.

As the morning went on, my day got even more discombobulated. No tea to keep my throat moist, an unexpected assembly, short one volunteer for centers. But then, a surprise. We're doing a unit on friends. Today's book was a story called "Friends All Around." The words and pictures showed children all around the world enjoying different activities. There was a picture of some children from Suriname, jumping rope together. Why was that a surprise? Because Suriname is where I was born. Very few people have even heard of it. If they have heard of it, it's because of that slimy little dude who had something to do with Natalee Holloway's disappearance. Anyway, it was just very cool to see that picture in a book that I get to read to my kindergartners.

And that brings me to another thought: election day. We left Suriname when I was very young. There was a brief stint in The Netherlands, but then we came to the good ol' USA. Today I got to vote - not something that happens in Suriname. How awesome is that? I was born in an oppressed country, but lucky enough to end up here. Doing what I want, living how I want, voting because I can.

The other cool thing about voting today is due to where I live. I walked into the polling center where no less than 10 people I knew were waiting in line. The election judges were all women I know. We chatted and we caught up with each other; kind of like a voting party. We discussed everything but politics, which I found both weird and refreshing.

My discombobulated day started to recombobulate as I got home and discovered leftovers for lunch. I made one of my favorite dinners last night, so that was a good thing. Even better, I found a bottle of Coke in the fridge. What is it about that stuff that makes your cares disappear?

However, upon checking my e-mail, I received notice that something I purchased on Ebay is now in dispute. I didn't have a problem, but now I'm wondering if I'll get my fifty bucks back.

The discombobulation continues.

A Good Day

2010-10-31T21:52:00.003-06:00

In the Mormon church, congregations, called wards, are decided by geographical location. Basically, what time you go to church depends on your address. Outside of Utah, a ward can cover a huge area. But right here in Utah you can live across the street from someone and belong to a different ward.

We moved about a 1/2 mile away from our old place, thus we are now in a new ward. Today was our first day. Do you know what I found? I found some really nice people who weren't afraid to introduce themselves to us. I found a bishop who already knew our names and had been expecting us. I heard talks on procrastination, patience, love, and gratitude. I'm really good at the first thing, and working on the other three, by the way. But most of all, and perhaps most comforting, I found a lot of the same thing I've found in other wards wherever I've lived: people who love God, who want to do good, and who are willing to serve in any way they can. Within hours of church ending, a sweet couple came by, just wanting to get to know us. They are anxiously awaiting the births of their 36th and 37th grandchildren (I know!) and treated my kids like they were the only kids on the planet. He brought an atlas of the local area and showed my son where all of his favorite hiking trails are, and upon discovering Jessica's love of piano playing, invited her to come and play music on his Phantom 4000 fancy-shmancy computerized music thing-a-mabob.

So, it was a good day. And a good reminder that there are fine and decent people everywhere you go.

A Spooktacular Spectacle

2010-10-28T14:20:00.004-06:00

Have you ever noticed how with various holidays there comes a certain amount of pressure? The turkey had better be juicy or great-aunt Edna won't touch it. You feel the need to spend X amount of dollars on a certain Christmas present or someone is going to be disappointed. Even birthdays can be stressful.

But not Halloween. Dress up, spook out, and eat candy. That's it. So that's why I have this social fantasy. It goes a little something like this:

I would love to throw the biggest, baddest Halloween GALA you've ever seen. You know, like something right out of the movies. Lots of glitter and glowing lights, a fog-covered floor; masks on everyone, music, dancing; elaborate costumes. A fog machine, ghosts in the windows, witches at the door, and bats in the bellfry. And then of course, there's the food: an ornate spread of tricky treats -- complete with a bloody fountain of strawberry punch.

All of my friends would D-R-A-G their husbands to it, because when you get down to it, Halloween is for girls. Boys do the costumes for the candy and then get over it. But do we girls ever outgrow playing dress-up? Hardly.

So if and when I ever find a spare ten grand to throw my gala, you're all invited over for some dress-up!

Ah, We Meet Again

2010-10-22T13:36:00.002-06:00

Where, oh where, does the time go? I have got to get back to blogging. Every day, and I mean EVERY DAY, something happens that makes me think that is so going on my blog. So no more excuses, even if they ARE good ones, like having the flu and moving and parent-teacher conferences and a primary program to put on. It's just time to get all the junk out of my head and onto the computer screen.

First, some funny things I've seen:

In my new neighborhood, we're surrounded by farm land. There's a gang of chickens with befeathered heads which make them look alot like Phyllis Diller. This gang likes to strut their stuff up and down the road. Their leader: the blackest duck you've ever seen. His name should be Daffy.

On the same road, there's a statue of a big elk. For Halloween, someone stuck a big black raven in its antlers. Just thought that was funny. I find myself shouting out "Nevermore!" everytime I go past it. And I clearly realize that I am the only person in my neighborhood who gets that.

Finally, a conversation with my son:

Me: Do you know anyone at your new bus stop?

Him: Yeah. His name is Jorge. Which is weird because he spells it with a J but you say it like an H. And you say the G like an H. Spanish is really hard. I wonder how you say his name is English. And he has a little brother named Omar who always rode our bus last year and he was the most important kid on our bus.

Me: Why was he the most important kid on your bus?

Him: Because he had his own seat and it had a seatbelt and the bus driver said his name ALOT. And then when we got to school we all had to wait until he got off and the bus driver would shout okay, Omar and the preschoolers, time to go to school! And I always thought that would make a great name for a movie, you know, Omar and the Preschoolers... kind of like Alvin and the Chipmunks, only Omar and the Preschoolers.

What more can I say?

I'm Sick. Just Humor Me.

2010-09-30T12:01:00.002-06:00

Further justification of the already irrational fear which I do possess:Yeah. Jellyfish do more total harm to humans than great whites. So there. I gotta quit reading EVERYTHING at museums.

Status Update

2010-09-30T10:11:00.002-06:00

So we decided to move. We'd have to move eventually, and this way we get into a place that we really like, and then it's overwith. The big day is Saturday.

However, I've had the flu all week, and I am not a good patient. I'm one of those stubborn sickies... you know, the kind who won't admit they're sick. So until today, it was just a head cold. It hit me Saturday night. Sunday I powered through church and took care of my responsibilities there. Monday I went to work, packed a few things at home, and did what moms do. Tuesday I couldn't even lift my head, so I got a substitute, but still managed to pack a few things. Wednesday I went back to work, came home, took a load of stuff to the new house, came back home and collapsed onto the couch until I went to bed. This morning I got up, fully expecting to go to work. I washed my face and had to lay back down again. That was when it dawned on me that it might be more than a cold. I finally mustered up the strength to set up for another substitute teacher. By the way, let me just say, setting up for a sub is a pain. It's easier to just go to work. And don't think I didn't think about it.

I have spent more time on my couch this week than I would ever care to admit. In education, the occupational hazard is illness. We're only three weeks in, so I hope this isn't a sign of things to come. A couple of years ago, a fellow kindergarten teacher was hospitalized with pneumonia at this point.

No move ever goes smoothly, but moving while sick? Please.

Irony, Stress, and The Joys of Childhood

2010-09-20T14:22:00.007-06:00

There has been so much happening lately... so let me sum up.

First of all, irony. Irony is one of those great writing tools that authors use to tell a story. O Henry was one of the best. Remember the guy who sold his gold pocket watch to buy his wife some combs for her long hair? His loving wife sold her long hair to buy him a chain for his pocket watch. That's irony. I've had real-world experience with it this week.

The house I'm currently living in has a nice, empty, upstairs family room. As long as we've lived here, I've wanted a table and chairs for it, where I could sew, the kids could do their homework, and it could generally be used and abused while my nice dining table was left alone. Last Wednesday I finally found such a set. I brought it home and immediately started sanding it, picturing it in a lovely shade of spa blue. While sanding it, I got a phone call. It was the real estate office (yes I'm living in a house that's up for sale). They wanted to schedule an inspection -- the house was sold.

Irony.

In a further twist of events, we started looking for a new place to rent on Friday. We found one on the first try. And it has room for an extra table. The owner wants us to move in on October 1. That's in two weeks if you haven't heard. The buyer's son/agent told me today that his parents are willing to let us stay here until May 1 of next year. But we really like the new place.

That's not exactly irony... more like stress. Final decisions will be made in the next day or so. There will be much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, for sure.

On the bright side, upon seeing the possible new digs, my daughter Jessica came home and immediately started packing up her bedroom. Had I known that this was all it took to get her to clean her room, I would have threatened to move a long time ago. If we don't move, she's got the cleanest room in the house. Now THAT'S irony.

In other news, I took my son Jamison to the dinosaur museum on Saturday. His chosen souvenir was a sandstone "rock" from which one must dig the bones of a tiny T-Rex and then put the skeleton together. Yesterday as he was "digging," he exclaimed with much enthusiasm, "Hey! I found the crotch!"

Ah, the joys of childhood.

Flying Shoes and Motherhood

2010-09-14T16:22:00.003-06:00

So my son is on a big kick lately that he is going to invent flying shoes. He's serious.
"Do you really think I can do it Mom?"
"Wouldn't it be cool if I invented them as a little kid?"
"I could get to the bus stop in a microsecond!"

I, of course, am nothing but supportive.
"There's nothing you can't do if you focus."
"I would be so proud to be the mom of a kid inventor!"
"Why don't you just fly to school?"

Today he came in and immediately told me of all the naysayers out there. "Michael said you're just saying those things to be nice."
I wanted to punch Michael in the nose. He'll see what flying shoes look like then.
"All the kids at the bus stop laughed at me and said it was impossible to invent flying shoes."
Those bus stop kids? I'm not sure what their biggest ambitions are at this point, but I'm sure it involves manipulating their way into the latest DS game.

I am not going to dash the dreams of my seven-year-old, no matter what his dreams may be. I get to foster and support and nurture and encourage him because THAT'S my job. And if and when you commute to work in your flying shoes, you can thank me for believing in my kid. Everyone else can take the bus.

September 11, 2001

2010-09-11T18:17:00.004-06:00

Yowza. Has it been that long? Oh well, here goes.

I was wearing a white t-shirt that said "denim blues" across the chest, and a pair of black shorts with a white stripe down the outsides. I was planning to swap cars with my boss (back when I was an automotive journalist -- I was test driving a blue Chrysler Town and Country) and then I was going to the gym. I was making a piece of toast for my two-year-old daughter when my mom called. "Are you watching T.V.?" she asked.

"No, I'm just about to leave," I said.

"Turn on your T.V." she said.

As the T.V. flickered to life, the screen showed a live shot of smoke billowing from a sky scraper, somewhere in New York City, I assumed. What a sad day. What a sad and terrible day. We lived just outside of Houston and what I remember most is how quiet everything became. Nothing in the sky. No train horns in the distance (we lived about a 1/2 mile from a railroad crossing). Fighter jets would occasionally pass overhead, defending the Johnson Space Center. A few days later I met my sister at a Target store; we had both needed to tear ourselves away from the television. The place was deserted. It didn't seem right to be there.

But do you know what else I remember? The next day. The unity. The way perfect strangers on the street were a little friendlier to each other. The way our neighborhood looked. You couldn't see the trees for the flags. Everyone went to church to pray, sing, and cry. Life as we knew it had changed.

I put a flag in my front yard today. I'll leave it there tomorrow as well.

Ribs, Anyone?

2010-08-27T08:20:00.007-06:00

The last 8 or 10 days have been a whirlwind of craziness here in the Stagg household, but it all came to a head yesterday, when at 2:30 a.m. I woke up in agony. I pretty much diagnosed myself with having a heart attack, until I realized that the pain was on my right side. I stayed in bed hoping for the sweet relief of sleep or death, whichever came first. I probably slept for a sum total of 30 minutes - and it was the first day of school. After describing my symptoms to my physical therapist/husband, he said, "I think you should call a chiropractor."

So I got my kids out the door for their first day. Aren't they cute?

Thankfully, kindergarten doesn't officially begin until September 7th, after placement testing, which did begin yesterday. Also thankfully, placement testing means sitting in the same chair with one kid at a time (standing at this point was not an option). And by the time lunch rolled around, I had an appointment with a chiropractor. After a few simple tests he said, "you have a subluxated rib."

If you've ever had a searing, white-hot dagger hooked to electrical shock wires piercing you through your back to your chest, then you know what I'm talking about. Ouch.

Dr. Froggley did his thing and I was able to walk out of his office more fully upright than when I went in. It's still a little tender today, but I'm more willing to move, walk, bend, breathe, etc. Also, due to the aforementioned whirlwind, I ended up with a day off!

So the question is, do I clean up the whirlwind's effects or do I chill on the couch with the Rachael Ray Show? Hmm. That's a tough one.

Slip-Sliding Away

2010-08-17T21:48:00.003-06:00

Do you ever feel like you're living on borrowed time? Or that whatever time you have is being pulled right out from under your nose? I'm not talking about the deep, philosophical, facing-my-own-mortality kind of fleeting, in case you're wondering.

But sometimes you just gotta put on your swimsuit without shaving your armpits, know what I mean? In1999 when my daughter was born, I walked away from a lucrative teaching career, vowing to never again return. I knew I would go back to work one day, but I had visions of working in a furniture store and using my paycheck and employee discount to buy pretty things on which to park my patootie.

Flash forward eleven years, and I am embarking on my third year of teaching kindergarten. That vow I took? You know, the one where I vowed never to set foot inside of a school as an employee? Today was one of those days when I was reminded why. Unfortunately, there are no furniture stores here in Midway, so there but for the grace of God go I.

And since returning to teaching, my summers have become sacred. I appreciate, enjoy, and dare I say it, relish the carefree lifestyle that summer offers to teachers. Do I sometimes leave dirty dishes in the sink at night? Yes. Do my kids and I stay up way too late watching Amazing Stories? Naturally. Do we plan to go swimming 10 minutes before we go swimming? Without a doubt.

I have the next few days of blissful summer left before school brings it all to a grinding halt on Monday. What will we do? Anything we want; because, after all, summer is being yanked out from under our noses... and sometimes there's just no time to shave.

Ahh...

2010-08-12T22:01:00.002-06:00

Today was one of those perfect summer days. You know, the kind of care-free day that makes you wish summer would last just a little bit longer? I got up and went for a bike ride, which turned into a walk after my rear tire went flat; but I got to cross a river and walk amongst bright yellow sunflowers, so no complaints there. After I made it back home, my neighbor knocked on the door, very excited to show my kids the very fat and very orange caterpillar she had found in her yard. My kids were fascinated by its walrus-shaped face. My daughter and I then made apricot fruit leather. Remember that stuff? You'd peel it from the cellophane and mold it to the roof of your mouth... you know you did. When I was a kid, I ate it until I got sick. It's so much better than the food-colored corn syrup stuff that they sell now. Once the fruit leather was leathering up in the oven, we packed a picnic and headed for the park, where we met up with friends. We attempted to fly kites, emphasis on attempted. And then in one of those fabulous, spontaneous, impromptu moments, we swapped kids. Her son came home with me and my son; my daughter went home with her and her daughters.

Can I just say, I very well had the two cutest boys in the galaxy spend the afternoon at my house? They quoted Phineas and Ferb, sang me the Perry the Platypus song, played with Legos and the Wii. They swam and I read a book. They raced toy boats down the river in our back yard. The phrase of the day: "We have soooo much in common!" The phrase frozen in time also comes to mind, because there's nothing more darling than a 7-year-old with a fresh haircut and his friend singing the Perry the Platypus song in the back seat of a 2001 Chevy Tahoe.

After a dinner of grilled drumsticks and green beans, our two families met back up at our favorite ice cream shop. If I haven't mentioned this place before (Corner Sweet Treats) then I apologize. They have no less than a dozen homemade flavors on hand and you can get a giant, four-scoop, super sundae for $5.30, emphasis on giant. The scoops are the size of softballs! If you're ever in town, be sure to try the lemon custard with hot fudge; it's divine. So we hung out, we chatted, we laughed, and the kids raced each other up and down the sidewalk.

The nights here are already starting to cool off; a few renegade leaves are already turning yellow, and school starts exactly two weeks from today. But today? Today was a perfect summer day.

It's What I Do

2010-08-05T08:46:00.003-06:00

This sign struck me as funny. It says "it is illegal to harrass fish..." I spent the next 10 minutes coming up with insults to yell at the salmon.

Your mother was a trout!
Hey fishy fishy... saa-wim fishy! Swim!
Hey, is that a bear over there? Ha ha! Made ya look!

I'm Baa...aaack

2010-08-04T20:12:00.006-06:00

So I took a little time off to go on a cruise with my husband, in celebration of my perpetual 26th birthday. Ahem.

We went to Alaska. Just the two of us. It was spectacular. No phone calls. No kids. No responsibilities. There WAS, however, lots of unbelievable scenery, delicious food, and a helicopter ride.

If you're not the kind to get away without your kids, I highly recommend it. Not that I don't love my little brood. But when my batteries are recharged, it's so much easier to like them, too. A few years ago, there was a woman who wrote an article about how she loved her husband more than she loved her kids - and boy did that stir up a hornet's nest. Frankly, I got what she was saying. I love my kids. I do. But in not-so-many years from now, they will be grown and gone, even starting their own broods. That is what they are supposed to do. But if I haven't nurtured, defended, and protected my relationship with my spouse, then where does that leave us when the kids are gone? He's my husband, not my roommate.

So the escape was terriffic. We held hands, walked arm-in-arm along the waterfronts, kissed on a glacier, ordered lots of desserts, and generally reminded each other that despite the distractions of life, we are in love. I'm still swaying from the motion of the ship, but I like it because it's as if I'm still there. My return-to-the-school-year letter was in the mail today, but I don't care. I've got 19 days before I need to worry about it. Until then, I will be planning our next cruise!

The Cheese Touch

2010-07-23T08:10:00.002-06:00

If you don't know what the cheese touch is, you've obviously never read the "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" books. In the book, there is a piece of moldy, stinky cheese left on the playground. When one kid touches it, nobody wants to get touched by him, thereby receiving the "cheese touch." The only way to avoid getting the cheese touch is to have your fingers crossed at the very moment your assailant tries to touch you. My kindergartners drove me a little nutso trying to pass the cheese touch from one kid to another.

But in the middle of summer, when your 7-year-old is bored, it's fun and easy to oblige. We chased each other around the house the other night, trying to give (and avoid getting) the cheese touch. There are only four people in our family, so we have unlimited potential of getting it. When I tried to give it to my husband, Jamison yelled out, "NOOOO!!!! He's lactose intolerant!!"

A Good Day

2010-07-18T00:09:00.002-06:00

Saturday morning chores. Yeah, I find comfort in that.
Sewing. I'm only two steps away from having a new quilt!
Lunch on the back porch. Have I mentioned there's a river in my back yard?
Craft time with my daughter. We made braided bracelets from some quilt scraps.
Family time. A trip to Home Depot, burgers for dinner, and pool time.

Ah, summer.

Say What?

2010-07-15T17:52:00.003-06:00

The house next to ours is a vacation rental, which fills up with all kinds of people. In the winter we get ski bums and ski bunnies, all of whom seem to be disappointed that the house lacks a hot tub and a beer tap. The rest of the year we get golfers whose clubs cost more than my car. Yesterday, our newest temporary neighbor knocked on my door, introduced herself and told me they were holding a family reunion for the weekend. She asked about some of the local flavor, then asked if I lived in my house full-time. She gave me a weird look when I told her that I owned a small island off the coast of Greece, but due to the recent political turmoil there, I hadn't been able to visit this summer.

She then asked me something that I've never been asked by a stranger before. With pad and pen at the ready, she said, "Do you have wireless internet and if so, could I get your security code so that we can have internet access while we're here?"

I have to admit, I lied. There's a reason I have a security code.

Besides, if you're on vacation, unplug!

Losing It

2010-07-12T23:25:00.003-06:00

A while back, I lost something. Contained on that something were several works in progress, including about 25,000 words of a certain novel. Please don't tell me about backing up files. Please.
However, I am happy to announce that I have since re-written about 13,000 of the lost 25,000 words. Stronger, perhaps? One can only hope.
And yes, they are backed up and saved in three different places.

G'Day, Mate!

2010-07-11T09:58:00.001-06:00

This super-cute girl is my niece, Megan. Tomorrow she will be on a plane, leaving for a semester of study in AUSTRALIA! I have to admit, I'm just a tad bit jealous.

"It is a great piece of skill to know how to guide your luck even while waiting for it."

Good luck on your new adventure, Meg!

This Week's Random Thoughts

2010-07-08T16:13:00.003-06:00

The other day at the pool, I spotted a guy with a sunburst tattoo around his belly button and all I could think was, does he regret getting that now that he has a gut?

On Tuesday my son and his friend played "spies." In my car. I couldn't figure out why everything was all out of place. I also found a big stack of quarters that they left behind, which I shamelessly used to purchase myself a big coke - with the good ice - today.

Today someone came into my house and insulted the lunch I was eating, which was not even offered to him in the first place. And no, it wasn't the guy with the sunburst tattoo.

Satisfaction

2010-07-06T17:40:00.002-06:00

I just spent the better part of the past four hours writing. Except for a small break to make my kids and their friends some snow cones, my fingers have been flying. I haven't done that in a really, really long time. And you know what? It is super satisfying. Remember my serial killer story? Yeah.

What gives you satisfaction? And please, no standard answers, i.e., hearing my children in laughter, a job well-done, etc. Because, while there is truth in those answers, they are the easy answers. So dig deep.

United

2010-07-01T18:52:00.005-06:00

It's hard to let the first day of a new month pass by without some kind of blog post. So here goes.
Independence Day is this weekend. Isn't that great? I am sooo one of those Norman Rockwell-Americana-I-Love-Summer people. Watermelon, corn-on-the-cob, sparklers, and star-spangled ribbons in my hair... what's not to love?

But if you watch the news these days, it seems there's less and less to love. There are lots of issues out there that are dividing us. Common ground and common sense are in short supply. Everyone has an opinion, but there are no easy answers. There's a rift.

Allow me to list a few things that still unite us:

Kindness: today I let a guy in a Jeep merge infront of me as we entered the freeway. His face was as brown as the hills he'd just come from, but his teeth were as white as a choir boy's robe. How do I know? Because that's all I could see as he turned to smile and wave. Ya gotta love the thank-you wave.

Hope: there's a woman from the Salt Lake area who's been missing for many months now. Yet every now and then, she'll get a mention on the local news because friends and family members keep organizing search parties to find her. They have hope. That can only be good. It's contagious. The founding fathers had hope. Hope for a country where men could be free. Today we still have hope. We hope that we can leave the world a little better than we found it. We hope that our children will have it better than we do. And we have it pretty darn good right now. Let's remember that every once in a while.

Ingenuity: don't you just love it when someone has a good idea? Even if the idea never comes to fruition, isn't it fun to cheer them on as they chase their dream? Everyone lucky enough to live in America has the same opportunity to act on their ideas. Is the playing field level? No. But ya gotta love a good challenge. And if it weren't for ingenuity, we wouldn't have 500-horsepower muscle cars, ice cream cones, television, vaccines, paper clips, or scones. And who doesn't love a good scone, drowning in butter and honey?

So this weekend, as you're watching the fireworks, think about everyone else watching the fireworks in their communities, and remember that we are all united.

Vacation!

2010-06-30T18:40:00.008-06:00

Why is it so fun to find new and glorious ways to embarrass my kids? And why is it so easy?

Can you guess what he is? Why, a fossil of course!

Another reason to love America: National Parks

The original golden arch...

Are you taking a vacation this summer?

What Kind of Casserole is That?

2010-06-28T16:17:00.004-06:00

Here is a picture of what may possibly be the most random assortment of groceries I have ever purchased.

This is what happens when your husband wants to kill some time and you only have eight bucks in your pocket.

What I Know

2010-06-22T17:12:00.005-06:00

Last night my husband got a phone call at about 10:00. It was the wife of one of his close friends calling to say that their 11-year-old son had passed away, due to some health complications.

We hugged our kids a little tighter when we put them to bed. We hugged a little tighter again this morning as we went our seperate ways.

This is one of those moments. One of those moments where your breath is taken away because your heart hurts. One of those moments where it doesn't seem right to be going about your normal routine when someone else's Normal has been shattered. One of those moments where you feel completely, and utterly useless. One of those moments where no matter what you say or how you say it, it only sounds shallow and cliche. One of those moments where you fall to your knees and thank God for your own blessings, and then feel guilty for feeling that way.

I don't know what I would do if it were me, but I do know this:

I KNOW there is life beyond this one. I know that God loves us and He has a plan. He is at the helm and stands ready to embrace us in what can be our lowest moments. I know that families are eternal, and I know that our friends will be with their son again in a very real and physical way. The unimaginable pain they feel will be forgotten, replaced with a joy unimaginable; made possible because of the atonement of a loving Savior, Jesus Christ.

That is what I know.

Wanna Keep Me Company?

2010-06-21T18:14:00.003-06:00

So my manuscript is being placed directly into the hands of that lady I met last week. I am remaining calm. Calm like Hurricane Rita.

To keep my mind off of it, today I have done the following:

1. Purged the unwanted contents of my cedar chest.

2. Dusted AND vacuumed my bedroom.

3. Stir-fried some noodles. Ate three bites.

4. Made orange jello (I don't eat jello).

5. Cleaned AND vacuumed my bathroom (long dark hair on Travertine tiles).

6. Watched "What About Bob?" (I feel good, I feel great, I feel wonderful...)

7. Searched for a new camera lens on e-Bay.

8. Talked to the same person on the phone THREE times.

9. Cleaned and disinfected two Camelback bladders (we're going to Moab on Wednesday).

10. Got on Facebook at least 5 times.

11. Started a new story.

Only five more hours til bedtime.

Poisonous Butterflies

2010-06-18T22:25:00.003-06:00

Just thought I would share a conversation I overheard earlier today between Dan and Jamison:

Dan: a poisonous butterfly?
Jamison: yeah.
Dan: how do you know it's poisonous?
Jamison: because a girl in my class told me about it and she's been researching it for a month and she read about it in a NON-fiction book and a scientist wrote the book and he's been researching it for YEARS. So HA!

Ah.

One Step Closer

2010-06-18T13:51:00.002-06:00

School has been out for a week and a half now, and I have been waiting for a day to be able to something because I WANT to and not because I HAVE to.

The have-to's on today's list included holding a Primary Presidency meeting and feeding my children. That's a pretty easy day, if I do say so myself.

So for the want-to, I just completed the final draft of a story I have been working on for a year. It's done. Chiseled. Sculpted. Until, that is, an editor says to fix it. The trick is getting it into the hands of an editor who also happens to think it worth fixing.

As luck would have it (and I don't believe in luck so much as seeking out the right opportunities) I met a woman this week who owns a publishing business. She told me to call her next week to show her my manuscript. She said if it's not something she can publish, then she's got connections and can point me to the right people. Isn't that great?

Wish me luck!

14-Year Spin

2010-06-14T07:28:00.007-06:00

Once upon a time, in a tiny desert town, a school teacher and a physical therapist met. They went out for tacos, played some tennis, and fell in love. In that order. They got married 14 years ago today.

Here are some of the highlights:

Trips to San Diego, Chicago, New York and D.C. (Hey, they were DINKS and could do that sorta thing). He tried to teach her to golf, with no success. Then her appendix went nuclear and she took a 10-day trip to the hospital. (Year One)

Then came a move to a city in the mountains where the teaching and the therapy continued. They added a Jeep and several friends to their family. After a while they decided it was time to add a kid or two or four to their family so they moved again, to a cute brick house in a little green grove... in Texas. The kid was in a hurry, so the teacher went on bed rest and the therapist worried. The teacher managed to hold onto the kid with only two weeks to go, and then they both got thrown for a loop as they learned how to be Mom and Dad. She left her kids at school to take care of her kid at home. They had three bucks left at the end of the month. But the bills were paid and life was good. The big trips morphed into day trips, discovering the Texas Hill Country. They tried to add a few more babies but Heaven needed them more. Eventually the little family took a trip back to the mountains to see the Olympics. And then an even bigger trip to Japan, because, well, they saved their 3 leftover dollars each month. And then finally, a little boy came along, who brought a piece of Heaven with him. (Years Two - Nine)

So they took care of their kiddos, gave a couple more back to Heaven, and moved back to the desert. I guess they're nomads, that way. They hiked and water skied and saw some cool things. She finally took up golf, which thrilled him to no end. They built a new house, which thrilled her to no end. But when it came time to close, the bubble was just beginning to burst, so they walked away rather than taking on TWO mortgages. After all, Faithful and Fearless was there motto. Then came a quarter-life crisis for the physical therapist, who didn't want to be a therapist anymore. So he developed a 5-year exit plan which lasted exactly 8 months before he made his actual exit. He became a salesman, which required a move back to the mountains. Somewhere in there they squeezed in a trip to Fiji, and now they live on a green hillside where their kids roam without a care. Where the mom is a teacher again. Where the dad finally has his dream job of playing golf for business. (Years Ten - Fourteen)

When compared to Forever, fourteen years is hardly a speck. But what a ride that speck has been so far. One of my favorite quotes is this: "Love shared is love multiplied" (Jeffrey R. Holland). In other words, the more you love, the more love you have to give. And notice how I mentioned all our trips? And all of our moves? They say that home is where you hang your hat. I've hung my hat in lots of places; stuffed it in a backpack on an airplane, laid it on a bed on a cruise ship, worn it when mopping different floors in different houses... in different states. So I guess I'm at home no matter where I am, as long as I'm with my taco-eating, golf-loving Dan.

Ah... Summer

2010-06-11T12:14:00.002-06:00

We've had some wild weather recently here in the mountains. It seems like we had 7 months of winter followed by a week of spring; and now we're getting some major mid-August thunder storms thrown our way. Major floods have done some major damage. Yesterday I was dodging ping-pong-sized hail as I made my way around Salt Lake City.
And yet, despite the storms Mother Nature throws at us, the flowers still manage to bloom. These purple beauties are blooming in my front yard today.

Aren't they gorgeous? They've been pounded by the rain and blown by the wind, yet they still stand straight and tall, colors bursting. I have to ask myself, am I like those flowers? Do I keep my head up in the midst of a storm? Or do I wither and wilt? Do I manage to blossom and bloom despite the whirlwinds? The answer is, I try. These flowers are strong because their surroundings have made them that way. I guess it's like that with life. Whatever the trial, whatever the issue, we can choose to let it run us over, or we can choose to turn our face to the wind and build up some strength. That's not to say that we won't feel like we've been run over, because, well, life is tough. It's downright painful at times. But it's also beautiful. And the beauty is always there. Just look at these flowers.

Oh, the Answers

2010-06-07T21:26:00.002-06:00

And without further adieu...

1. Only You... Robert Downey, Jr. and Marissa Tomei. Need I say more? I'll just say this: Marissa Tomei plays a teacher who goes to Italy to find her destiny, a.k.a. a yummy 90's version of Robert Downey, Jr. She wears nothing but beautiful black, white, and red clothes throughout the entire picture.

2. A Knight's Tale... I absolutely love this movie. The humor, the irreverence, and a medieval story peppered with modern music and sarcasm. I went to see it with a friend way back when, and when we came out of the movie theatre (yes, I love spelling it that way. It makes me feel fancy) tropical storm Allison was swooping over Houston. We got about 6 blocks down the road before spending the night at a What-A-Burger.

3. Two Weeks Notice... I find Hugh Grant... highly entertaining. Especially alongside Sandra Bullock. It's my go-to movie when I've got a cold and need to hunker down for a day or two.

4. Frequency... I had no idea what this movie was about when I went to see it. People actually applauded at the end. I love sci-fi and time travel and all that stuff. I've tried to type what it's about here like three times. Just see it. You will not be disappointed. I promise.

5. The Sound of Music is the most beautiful movie ever made. And that's all I have to say about that. Oh and also that my favorite scene is when Captain Von Trapp and Maria are dancing on the patio and they realize that they are in love with each other. Ahhhh....

6. Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home... (see #4) Also, I was eleven years old when this movie came out and I hated Star Trek. My dad watched it religiously. I was more of a Star Wars kind of gal. I decided the best Christmas present I could give him that year was to treat him to this movie, even if I had to suffer through it. Guess what? We've gone to the premiere of every Star Trek movie together ever since.

7. The Princess Bride... No movie list would be complete without it. I could recite it for you if you like. Would anybody like a peanut?

8. So I Married An Axe Murderer... It's not what you think. It's funny. And silly. Kind of like me. When the Scottish father goes off on the younger son's "enormous melon" of a head, I laugh to the point of tears. Every time. "It's a virtual planetoid! It's like Sputnik on a toothpick! He'll be crying himself to sleep tonight on his large pillow..."

And that is my list. It is by no means a list of all of my favorites; just some of the more notable ones. So watch a movie tonight. I know I will.

Oh, the Memories

2010-06-03T19:13:00.002-06:00

As of this week, we are Netflix Newbies. It's great. Kinda makes me wonder why we didn't sign up a long, long time ago. Dan and I have had some fun scrolling through their vast movie line-up and squealing with joy when we find a treasured gem from our collective pasts. (Ahem, Fletch).

Borrowing an idea from my good friend Becca (you know, the one who's published TWO novels) I thought I would share some lines from some of my favorite flicks and see if you can guess the movie. Extra points if you can throw in any additional quotes.

1. It-lee. My wife's in It-lee? What's she doing in It-lee?
I was born to kiss you.
Bisquit? Mmmm.... crunchy.

2. Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone else here NOT sitting on a cushion!
We WALK in the garden of his turbulence!
Then I shall call you a fox. For that is what you are, my foxy lady.

3. I find you... highly annoying.
I live in the hotel. And I own the hotel. My life is quite a lot like Monopoly, actually.
Ooooh, those dogs are really barking...

4. We did something. I don't know what, but it's like I remember both.
One word, Kid: Yahoo.
I told you I'd always be here for you, son.

5. I like this lemonade. Not too sweet. Not too sour. Just too... pink.
You didn't tell me to bring my harmonica.
You mean to tell me that my children have been parading about Salzberg in nothing but old curtains?

6. No, I'm FROM Iowa. I only WORK in outerspace.
Everybody remember where we parked.
But weren't those a gift from Dr. McCoy? Yes, and they will be again. That's the beauty of it.

7. If only we had a holocaust cloak.
You have six fingers on your right hand. Somebody is looking for you.
No! TO THE PAIN!

8. Come, Nadia. Let us run like children of the night! (in a Russian accent)
Charlie! Light a match! (in a Scottish accent)
She took my heart and my cat!

The Cheese Monger

2010-06-01T16:52:00.005-06:00

I was hoping to start off the month of June with a blog post like this:

Today is June 1st and it's finally starting to feel like spring up here in the mountain tops. The trees are exploding with a profusion of pinks, purples, and whites. The sun is shining and my glitter toes are sparkling.

That's what I would like to write. And it's mostly true (the above picture was taken last Thursday). Problem is, that it's raining and I came home and had to turn on the fireplace.

So I'll just share what I did yesterday. There's a fancy-shmancy grocery store down in the Salt Lake City area that boasts among other things, a huge selection of the world's cheeses. I like cheese. A lot. Can you beat a nice slice of gouda on a baguette? Hardly. But Dan adores it. Even more than I do. So as the finial cap to his birthday, we went to this store and spent a while hanging out among the Havartis and Edams.

Wild and crazy, I know.

And then we met the cheese monger. No lie. That is her title. It said it right on her name tag. And boy, did she know her cheeses. She gave us a few samples, and insisted we try the Spanish Machengo with a black olive (and not the kind from a can). Wow. I can never eat olives from a can ever again. Ever. She told us about her job, her love for cheese, and how she's been able to travel to Italy, Spain, and other places around the world to hone her mad cheese skills. We walked away with a block of the Machengo and a block of Butter Kase from Germany. And some olives. Not from a can.

As we hesitantly left the cheese area, Dan said, "if for some reason, my company no longer requires my services, I'm going to become a cheese monger."

Showbiz

2010-05-26T13:14:00.002-06:00

In just a few short moments I will be leaving to attend Midway Elementary's First Grade Production, "Take Me Home."

This was the conversation as I tucked my 1st grader into bed last night:
Jamison: "Hey Mom, did you know that I have an understudy?"
Me (incredulous): "No. What?"
Jamison: "Yeah. I have an understudy and he is really hoping that I am sick tomorrow so that he can do my part."

Even in first grade, it's a cutthroat business.

Inside Jokes

2010-05-22T08:29:00.003-06:00

If it seems like I've been delaying my 100th post, it's because I have. Do you know how much paperwork is involved in moving a kindergartner to 1st grade? Plus I've been busy planning a surprise party for my husband's 40th birthday. Besides, I wanted my 100th post to be something really, really good. I finally got it.

When Dan and I got married, we each brought things with us to start our new life together. He had a T.V. I had a compter. He had a good car, I had a Dodge Omni that wouldn't run if the weather dipped below 68 degrees. Thankfully we lived in Arizona. But the best thing I got from Dan with our marriage (besides Dan) was a handful of good friends. They were all high school/college buddies and because Dan was their friend, so was I. We've been married for nearly fourteen years and I have heard all the stories from the glory days enough times that I can repeat them to you verbatim. That's almost as good as being there, right?

A typical get-together looks like this: all the guys are on one side of the room incessantly ripping on each other about all the stupid things they did when they were younger. All the wives are on the other side of the room laughing at them. It works.

So for Dan's big 4-0, our good buddy Robb put together this little ditty. It's full of inside jokes, but you can appreciate the talent.

Enjoy.

There's a Girl I Know

2010-05-12T16:01:00.003-06:00

Happy 11th Birthday to this horse-lovin', piano-playin', friend-makin' gal!

Jessica is the one who brings music to our family. She can't do anything without humming a tune. She hums when she's making a sandwich. She hums when she's cleaning her room. She hums along as she plays the piano. She hums along as she plays the violin.

Jessica is the one who brings beauty to our family. Her smile dazzles anybody, even before the braces went on. She leaves sweet notes and is always up for hugging.

Jessica is the one who sets the example in our family. She fits well into any situation and is our social butterfly. She's not afraid to stick up for her friends but also isn't afraid to tell them when they're "acting ridiculous."

Jessica is the goal-getter in our family. Yesterday she told me she's going to try and read one chapter in The Old Testament every day. Thanks to her grandpa, she's got her sights set on BYU-Hawaii. "It's only 7 years away, you know," she told me. She's planning to own some kind of horse-related business by the time she's 16, and her bank account is getting there. I told her she'll be the only sixteen-year-old riding a horse to school instead of a car, and she simply smiled. "I'll have to make sure they have a hitching post," she replied.

Happy Birthday Jess!

Random Thoughts of Uncommon Sense

A Day in the Life of PMS

Can You Relate?

Good-Bye, Big Red; Hello Fred

Bearing Down in Salt Lake City

Could They Be Cuter? I Think Not.

Life is Good

Day 10

Catching Up, Part II

Catching Up

Day 2 and Other Stuff

A Challenge!

What's Scary to an 8-Year-Old Boy?

Standing Up

Stop This Train

Behavior Modification

Ego Boost

Goodbye Summer, Hello Apple Tart

Finding the Magic!

Settling In

Holy Moly! I Quit My Job!

A Day at the Lake

Seattle in 24 Hours

Let Them Be Little

The Streak is Over

Oh, That's Where I've Been

Rennaisance Man

Drowning

Happy Things

A Glimpse of Things to Come

Little Self-Discoveries

A Conversation

My Middle School Initiation

Evolution of a Mood

Ready, Set, Go

And We're Back

Oh Happy Day!

Swiss Miss

Meet the In-Laws

A List

Life Goes On

Your Mom Went to College...

The Most Expensive Bag of Spinach Ever

Sometimes...

An Object Lesson

Time For Some Uncommon Sense

Valentines and Things of That Nature

I'm From Wasatch County

Laundry Day

Music To My Ears

Happy Ground Hog Day

Would You Trust This Face?

A Memory

It Must Be Saturday

Better Than McCartney

The Brain of a 'Tween

True Confessions

Bear Down, Tucson

Letting Go

Holy Cow! It's 2011!

Murphy Christmas

Christmas in Bethlehem

Heard Around My House

*Sigh*

Signs

What Do Pipe Cleaners, A Third World Country, and Ebay Have in Common?

A Good Day

A Spooktacular Spectacle

Ah, We Meet Again

I'm Sick. Just Humor Me.

Status Update

Irony, Stress, and The Joys of Childhood

Flying Shoes and Motherhood

September 11, 2001

Ribs, Anyone?

Slip-Sliding Away

Ahh...

It's What I Do

I'm Baa...aaack

The Cheese Touch

Sigh