Dang Quesadilla

Did you ever watch, "Napolean Dynamite"?

It is a very funny flick that is funnier to talk about than to actually sit down and watch, but little things remind me of the show all the time.

The other day (Christmas), we had Breakfast Quesadillas, I mean the kids got them in their stocking (long story short -- our one Christmas-day tradition is to get breakfast in the stocking; this is a compromise between the two parental figures int he home).  Laster that day, my daughter came up to me and told me how much she loved that "Quadilla" and she definitely said the /l/ sound. It made me smile and remember Napolean. It also reminded me of my dear family relation who still pronounces tortilla like this -- tor-till--uh.

Ours didn't look quite like this - remember, it had to fit in a stocking (luckily Santa's elves know about the refrigerator and can sneak it in the stocking in a nick of time Christmas Morning)

I love dear family relations.

I also love funny things that make me smile even days later, when remembering them.

I've Got All the Numbers

Games

One day my girls pulled out Bingo and began playing. I was working in the kitchen but could hear their chatter.

They were playing contentedly (the boy didn't join till picture-time) when my older daughter excitedly claimed she was doing so well. She went on to say that she was "getting every single number" on her card. It turns out that the younger sister was playing at a great disadvantage because the older sister was actually playing with the master card (which their brother so kindly pointed out when he sat down).

It made me smile. First, I adore when my children play well together and have fun. Can't it always be like this?

Second, memories of game-playing flooded back to me of times when my mom would cheat "just a little" in Pounce (I think that was what the game was called - where you play with a whole bunch of decks of cards and you try to go through your pile the fastest).

Of course I remembered playing Rook with my cousins and Nathan that put five "naked" 14s in the kitty. Ha ha ha, what a memory. We were all playing and those of use in the younger generation really trying to prove our mettle or spot by playing "well" with the Uncles. When Nathan took the bid, he must have decided to put all of his best cards in the kitty, which really messed the game up. I really don't think he'll ever live down those "naked 14s". It was all done in innocence, which is the best part of the memory.

Everything!

As I did my little girl's hair this morning, I told her, "I'm glad I'm your mom".

She then went on to tell me the following:

"Well Mom, kids do everything. We do the dishes, we do our music, we make beds. Everything."



This is one of those outfits my girls will look back on with nostalgia. She wears this just about every day. She's worn it four of the past five. Yes, it is dirty. I need to sneak it into the wash. Oh, yes -- I do the laundry, that is something I do.

Get Well Soon

This is a good "smile" for Sunday.

Last week, my church had stake conference. Fortunately, my family sat in the very front :-). We got there about fifteen minutes before the start and my son marched right up to the front of the chapel and found half of a row open. So, we got to sit on "soft" seats for two hours.

Our stake president was unable to participate or attend because of illness. Afterward, when my daughter expressed concern, I suggested she write a card for him. I didn't think she would remember, but sure enough that was the first thing she wanted to do the next morning.

Here she is writing a card with her sister:

Again:

I snuck a look before sealing the envelope. I thought it was the sweetest card ever.

I marked out my daughter's names
 

Merry-Go-Round

I really love a carousel. I always have been drawn to them. My favorite is one up in Victoria, B.C. Canada -- Butchart Gardens. The creatures were beautiful:

One year we were in Idaho at a fun splash park and my daughter was drawn to the carousel like a magnet. I kept finding her, having wandered back over there - standing in line.

Tonight, we got to ride on a carousel in our city, celebrating our centennial year -- pretty cool eh? It was even free of charge. My "laugh" of the day was when I turned around to look at my seven year old on her horse. She was acting as though the horse were real and bucking her a little bit, she kept kicking at it with the "stirrups" -- it all looked so awkward and funny. She has such a cute little sly smile. I love that innocence of playing "pretend" but not really wanting anyone to see you pretending.

I played pretend till I was in 8th grade. I remember thinking, "How could anyone ever give this up?"

I had the Ace this time

I've been telling you all along, I have a strong-willed daughter. See if you can pick her out of this recent family picture:


Could my children look any more clothing coordinated?

Well, yesterday I took her into the doctor for an issue she has been having. She was prescribed an antibiotic - which she has taken before, and she has taken it in liquid form and with a syringe.

We came home, I wanted to get her started on the treatment right away, so I administered the first dose. She proceeded to take the medicine and then do the "kid thing" where she tries to hold a conversation with me, while her mouth is full. So, there was a lot of expression in her eyes and mostly just gurgling of the pink, thick medicine.

She still thinks it is funny to see how long she can hold that gross, thick medicine in her mouth - this picture was taken a day after the incident initiating this blog post.

Fortunately, none of the medicine escaped her lips. I am not exaggerating here when I say this went on for a full five minutes. I tried to get her to swallow, offered her a cracker, a drink (for after the swallow) anything to get her to swallow. Finally, she went running off to the bathroom and spit out the medicine, which by now came out in gross curd chunks. Do you know what she said to me?

"I forgot how to swallow."

And here's where I have the ace up my sleeve. Totally.

I looked at her in disbelief, loaded the syringe up with more medicine and gave her some more (I wasn't even being abusive - I promise). This time, I proceeded to go through the steps of swallowing.

Cha-ching -- who said education wouldn't come in handy?

I've taken a few classes :-). I've read chapters and I've taken tests. She's in my ball field now. I may be no "Swallowing Expert" but I do have something upstairs. When I started rattling off the steps, or at least how to initiate a swallow, I think, she knew she had been beaten. She took another full five minutes to do it, but she did swallow her first dose.

Now we are on Dose #6 -- I wonder if she'll forget. Ever. Again. heh heh heh

I will dedicate my first professional post to Daughter #3.

No Socks

My girl, my girl.

My four-year old is going through some kind of stage where she prefers not to wear socks.

The lack of socks kind of takes away from the cuteness of the shoes, huh?

When I took the kids on a hike the other day, (doesn't that make me sound like hiking with my children is a regular thing -- well, it isn't. It has been on my bucket list for something like years now), I commended her for getting ready so quickly. Then, while hiking, I realized how she had been so speedy. She didn't take the time to find and put on socks.

Lime Kiln Trail - cool name huh, say it again just for fun

 I am reminded of long ago when my family was in St. George for Thanksgiving. I must have been 12 or so and some of us were going to go on a walk around the neighborhood. Uncle Mac put on his shoes without socks. It struck me as being so strange - which is probably why I can still recall the visual image. My dad and his brothers all wear the same type of shoes - plain, dark loafers. Wouldn't putting your bare foot in a close-toed shoe feel slimy and scratchy?

That said, I hardly ever saw my dad's bare foot. He puts his shoes on first thing in the morning and wears them the entire day, except when he needs to change into his big work/hunting boots. He used to sing a song to us with his sock dangling from his big foot. One of my sisters can happily put that in as a comment :-).

I hope, as you are reading this, that your bare foot isn't nesting in a shoe. . .

A New Way of Communicating

I don't know that I need to explain much on this one other than that my phone is getting the best of me. I recently got a new cell phone, and because it is touch-screen only, I can't stand to text on it. Texting takes forever on touch-screen only. I much prefer a slide-out keyboard style of cell phone. But, alas, I digress.

My phone has a feature where I can talk to it and my voice is transcribed into text or email. However, sometimes my messages aren't quite what I meant to say (the phone thinks it can guess what I am going to say). Here are two LOL moments from the past two days - both totally innocent and sincere:

• Texting my husband about our upcoming date:

Me: Hi Dare, What time do you want to leave our house for our date tonight?
My phone's interpretation: Hi dear what time should it what time do you want to leave our house for our date tonight

Response: Well lovey, I cannot be ready until midnight, whew whew !! Where we going sugar?

Me: Sweetie, you know what I mean   (I had to get a babysitter lined up you know)

Response: OK, by this time, I realized I hadn't been texting my husband all along. I had actually texted my sister. I started laughing and could barely give a response.

• Fast Forward to the next day

I get an email message from my other sister asking if I was watching our nephew's football game. I got excited and turned the football game on right away. Within about five minutes, our nephew scored a touchdown (in a most awesome way - he broke free from the defense and ran a whole bunch of yards). So, I quickly got on my phone and wrote/voice-typed a message to her that looked like this

Me: Go Tate Go Tate
Phone's Interpretation: Go take go take a s***

Response:  Did you just swear? What the heck are you saying.

Oh -- I can't believe all of this! I am getting burned by my phone. I will still voice type, but I promise to be more careful. Good grief . . .

The Carver

There are some novels out there, "The Giver", "The Help", "The Road".

Well, this post is about "The Carver". I'm pretty sure you've all been one. Just admit it.
I found this:

when I was wiping the table the other day. I wonder if I can doctor it up a bit for you so you can know what I know :-)

OK, here goes:

Now, for the "Ghost of Carving Past" -- heh heh. I did a little carving on my parents' wood pillars, in their living room. The pillars are still there and I imagine my carving is still there too. I think I carved my middle name, "Marie". I wonder if my parents knew who it was. . .

 

I asked my husband about his carving past (b/c I know for sure his mom has told stories about it) and he gave me this innocent look and denied any carving. He said, "My work was not art. I was scientifically testing the different wood layers present in my parents' piano. I made a single, very deep gouge." Then, he went on to tell me all about the different layers.

What a man! He is still that curious kid . .

Freezing

Nothing belly-shaking funny has happened in the last few days, but I will record something that struck me as funny last weekend.

I got to visit my parents, who are serving a mission for our church in Palmyra NY. They are tour guide missionaries and having the best time. Seriously, I think they are like college kids: teasing the neighbors (other couple missionaries in their complex), making friends right and left, and they are learning something new practically every day. What a beautiful existence.

One of the coolest moments - when my parents told me to turn around here and look up in the trees, there's a temple, can you see it? 
 

I had a great time back there and wish I could do the exact same trip all over again.

At the top of the Hill Cumorah with my dad and my sister

One observation I made, very quickly, was that my dad makes very good use of the air conditioning in his apartment (His home in Idaho doesn't have central A/C). The problem with his agency :-) is that his neighbors downstairs share the same vents. I'm afraid he must be freezing them out. I stuffed pillows in the drafts of air I kept feeling coming up through the sofa. It was that cold. My mom is an angel and just keeps on layering more clothes.

When I was a teenager, I'd have friends come over and play ping pong in the basement or watch movies. I couldn't figure out why they always kept their jackets on or asked for a blanket. I'm beginning to get the picture.

Well, to end the story, the downstairs neighbors brought up pie one of the evenings I was there (it was SOOO delicious - in fact, she said she is known in her neighborhood as Aunt Ruth, I love Aunt Ruth). So, I guess they must just keep a ready-supply of blankets in their apartment.

Red Chili Peppers

Give it away, Give it away Now . . .

If I had just known to say that to my girls I would have.

We went to a little Produce Stand this afternoon. Since I am a city girl now, I have to qualify it like that :-). The workers there wear suspenders and have dirty hands, but they always give me a little taste of produce, which I gladly accept.

My favorite thing to splurge on is the pie towards the back.

This afternoon, we didn't go for pie :-( we went for just regular produce. Once we got there, I saw a sale and called my friend to share the news. In the meantime, my little wanderer daughter (older) led her sidekick (younger) over to the red chili peppers. I think this could have been their dialogue:

Wanderer: "Oh, look how cute and little and red."

Their Conscience: "And it is off in its own box with branches all around ...."

Clepto-Child: "Let's take one."

They each took a bite and to say they went ballistic is an understatement.

Where was their mother? 

On the phone talking about pears, of course.

I heard them screaming before I saw them, I tried to walk away to finish up my conversation quickly. (I have to qualify here that these girls are known for screaming about dogs and flies).  I could see they weren't hurt as I walked around my vehicle trying to keep the noise away from the phone. I could also see and hear that they could still breathe (which meant they hadn't eaten nuts, which they are allergic to). I got off the phone and attended to them. They were still screaming with drool just streaming down their mouths - both of them. It was like a double nightmare. I couldn't get either of them to tell me what happened. They were begging for water, for food, for chapstick, anything. I just kept grabbing whatever I could find (luckily the kids' backpacks were in the car, so we had some water bottles and leftover carrots from lunch) and trying to get them away from the general populus frequenting the produce stand. This ordeal was something like 15 minutes or maybe 15 hours long.

You know what is strange, not a single person at the produce stand (worker or shopper) seemed to acknowledge the spectacle. I can't figure that out. No one said a word to me! And, after I got the initial fire put out, I did shop around in there. Yet, they still didn't say a word or ask if my girls were OK, or "hmm, guess they learned their lesson.". Notta

I guess that goes with wearing suspenders and having a little dirt under the nails. Deal with it.

5 Boyish Girls

My little girlish girls are just fascinated about when I was a "boy".

Everyone has one of these dandies in their past don't they?

Ha ha, that sounds much different on here than it does in real life. Of course, I've never been a boy but since my girls saw this picture, they are fixated on why my hair was "like that". They've come up with the following theories:

• Grandma must've not liked doing girls' hair
• Grandma must've wanted 5 boyish girls (3 out of the five girls sported similar hairdoes - although I must say Marci really got the good end of this deal, her 'do was way better than mine)

My daughters' next questions are regarding my little sisters Jane and Jess. Why didn't they have to have their hair cut? How old were they when this happened (we've concluded Jessie was probably a bald baby about this time so she looked boyish too). We aren't sure why Janie would've been the one non-boyish girl.

Baptismal Biscuits

OK, it is nearly 11:30 pm and I must record today's "funny". I even laughed out loud during my prayer because this occurred to me as being one of the Lord's little laughable moments too.

This morning my oldest daughter and I attended a baptism for her friend. But, before that, I (sort of we -- which gives you an indication of some of the unsightly shapes), made rolls to take to a person from church who was going to be having guests over for the weekend. I had already promised this person the rolls, so it wasn't going to be anonymous or anything like that. Let's call her Friend #2.

Even before that though, I thought I might take some rolls to my friend's family (who had the daughter getting baptized - all of this non-naming is becoming very confusing). We can refer to their family as Friend #1. However, I didn't have time to get some rolls up to her before going to the church so I thought I might take some to her later.

Anyway, as we rushed out the door, pan of hot rolls in hand, we (daughter and I) headed over to the baptism. It was really special. Not to take away from the jovial nature of this blog, I really did feel something today that I will need to talk about on a different, more spiritual blog. I had lots of thoughts and emotions throughout the morning. At the end, when we went out to the car, I started putting rolls in a plastic bag so we could take them to Friend #2. The rolls were cooled off by this time and could be put in a bag. My daughter immediately asked if she could give them to her friend for being baptized. I thought, "Why not? That might be kind of fun for my little girl to give another little girl some rolls."

She ran off.

I got inside the car and thought more about the many things I had been pondering throughout the service (see, I can't seem to get away from the un-jovial).

Soon enough, Friend #1's husband comes smiling up to me holding a bag of what looked to me like the most pitiful little rolls on the planet. He put his head in my passenger window and cheerfully asked, "Are these baptismal biscuits?" I started to laugh and couldn't gather myself to even explain a thing! He then went on, just as cheerfully, "Is this what small town people do at baptisms, hand out rolls?"

He just kept twirling that bag around and my yummy rolls looked worse than ever and by this time I was laughing so hard tears were coming out of my eyes as I tried to stand up for my "small town people" - NO, we do not hand out baptismal biscuits. I am just crazy and crazy people have way too many good intentions. . .

Sleep well dear readers, all five of you :-)  Rest assured knowing that even the heavens above are smiling about this one.

Slip of the tongue

I can't think of something that has given me more of a laugh than the following email, just sent to me yesterday from my kids' school principal:

Dear Rush Parents,
 
Due to the construction of the walkway from our new building to the upper field the current access (on 150th Court NE & 150th Ave NE) from the backside to the upper walkway will be blocked off for the next month. We know this will cause some incontinence but it is unavoidable with the new construction. Thanks for your patience, flexibility, and understanding.
 
Sincerely,
 
Brad Stolz, Principal

Did you catch it? If not, you must read it again. And again. I thought my husband's laughter last night, after seeing this would wake the children.

Look at the Birdie

A few weeks ago, on a regular sunny :-) day (regular is being a bit sarcastic b/c where I live, sunny days aren't exactly the norm; but for two months of the year it is a pretty good bet there'll be sunshine during the day), I hurriedly began gathering swimming clothes for my children. I was also brushing my teeth.

We probably had 5-10 minutes to spare before we needed to leave. And, if you've ever loaded three children into a vehicle, you know how easily those minutes are gobbled up by twisted seat belts and car seat wars.

Anyway, as I opened the screen door to grab the swim stuff, I literally felt a swoosh of something go right above my head. That swoosh was a real, living bird.

Just to give you an idea of that day, here are a couple pictures:

So, I stepped outside to this:

This "clothes horse" - that is what my mom always called hers, was my best summer purchase of 2011. You can buy yours from Bed Bath and Beyond. You'll use it all the time, I promise. I mean all the time in the summer.

And was quickly greeted by the inhabitant partaking of seeds from here:

I can't remember when I bought this or from where. I think I bought the seeds from an Ace Hardware store. I actually consider the birds my "pets". I feed them and watch them fly away. I like to try and figure out how they sing. Do birds have vocal chords?

As you can well imagine, with toothpaste in my mouth, I was a bit freaked out. Luckily, my kids - who were playing in the other room, didn't seem to be phased by my telling them there was a bird in our house (I guess with my toothpasted-voice, they couldn't understand me). I raced back to my room to spit out the awesome toothpaste (doesn't that make this story even better?) and then started closing doors, imagining myself swinging a broom around the house trying to get that little bird out.

By this time, the kids caught on to what I was doing, but they couldn't see the bird. It was behind the couch near our big picture windows. I was also imaginging all kinds of bird poop on my furniture and floors. They didn't seem nervous and I promise I tried to be calm.

By all instances of luck, that little bird went from our picture windows, flew a little ways and then went out the same we she came in. Weirdest thing ever.

My Hair

Today's funny was when I sat in church and a friend walked by me and said, "That color looks really good on you, I like your hair coloring."

Funny thing is that my hair today is the same as my hair two weeks ago (when I was last in attendance at church), as well as the same as seven years ago when I met this friend, AS WELL AS 17 years ago when I was, um let me do the math quick - 17 years old. I've never dyed my hair, but maybe I will soon.



Daddy's Homecoming

The other day, as I was "Momming" around town, I saw a young boy, perhaps 12 years old running around the corner, with a car that was turning the same corner. The boy was so happy, with a big grin on his face. I added my own story to his scene. I thought, "He must be racing to meet his dad after work."

While I never really referred to my dad as "Daddy", when I looked like this:

No need to crop this picture right? All of the extra details make for fun memories

 I did race to meet my dad every day after work, particularly in the summers when he worked for a large school district about 45 minutes north of my house. He taught drivers' ed and for this particular job, he had a very regular schedule. We could always count on seeing him come around the corner, just past Pete Henderson's. He drove a little green Isuzu that once belonged to my uncle Heber. I remember feeling like a "tv kid" because my dad would come home at the same time every day in the summers (during the school years, his homecoming was all over the place). When I say "tv kid" I mean that I often pretended to be one of the little girls on some of our favorite television shows: Cosby, Growing Pains, Who's the Boss, Punky Brewster, Charles in Charge, etc. and those girls always seemed to have a perfect, regular, predictable life.

Oh wait -- didn't I?

Ha haa ha -- it wasn't perfect but perfect for me :-)

Another reason this "memory" came to mind is because I read an article in my local newspaper about a drivers' ed instructor who taught for 44 years. I enjoyed the article. What a good guy: http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/dannywestneat/2018743089_danny22.html

Older than the hills

I'm sure you've all got stuff lying around that should have been thrown out a long time ago. Do you remember the kinds of head phones we wore as teenagers on the school bus thinking we were all that?

Today, my children and I were racing out the door to violin lesson. I had the grand idea to grab my laptop so my son could play some games during the hour-long lesson. Oh, and he would need headphones. We actually have little ear buds all over the place, but I couldn't think about that at a time like this, so I just grabbed the nearest thing - my husband's old, very old headphones.

As you can see, I really want you to have the picture in your head of these headphones. This story isn't even that funny, but when I told my husband about it tonight, we did one of those laughing-so-hard-no-sound comes out kind of thing.
As I pulled the headphones out of my computer bag to hand to my son, noticed crumbly black stuff was coming off in my hand like crazy. I wiped the black crumbles away quickly before the violin teacher might notice. The computer was on a little table and my son happily put the headphones on him and was content throughout the lesson. When I peeped over at him halfway, he had black foam crumbles all over his cheeks and shirt. The headphones were shedding. It was quite a sight. There was black crumbly stuff on the floor (I did manage to pick up the bigger pieces to throw away). Anyway, I wish I could have snapped a picture of my son, with a black beard of headphone foam. Then I know you'd laugh.

He didn't have a clue, by the way.

One Ziploc at a time

This one is for my sisters, who tease me mercilessly about my "Northwest Ways" i.e. recycling.

I think this one is past its prime

I'll have you know, my neighbor up the street actually has a Ziploc bag drier on his counter :-).  I think he can do 6 at a time.

Now, you can start singing a song about Mother Earth. I am just doing my part. Maybe you should start swaying too.

Introducing

I came across this picture the other day as I was organizing a storage bin, it made me laugh and might make you laugh too.

Without further adieu, I'd like to introduce you to "My Cousin Matt"

Did you find him?

I'm so glad he made his mark on my wedding day.

Olympics - Can we do it? Yes, we can!

Every family reunion, my brother Don comes out with the best sayings. So far, this year my kids just keep singing: "My Solo Cup will fill you up, let's have a party" or they'll say, "Mom, can we do it -- YES WE CAN!!".

Just for fun's sake, I'll post ther years' sayings from him:

"Rise and Shine, it's a brand new day."

"We're going to clean up this whole pit area."

"Who's your favorite uncle/brother?"

Feel free to add more . . .

This year is an Olympic year, which is fun and exciting. I become glued to the television and all of the sporting events, I especially love track and field and gymnastics and swimming and  . . .

Years ago, I babysat a family with active boys. One summer day, we had the idea to do track events, so we set up hurdles and planned races around their house. It was loads of fun. Fast forward about 25 years, and here I am doing the same thing with my kids. Every Monday evening, I've been in charge of our "Family Home Evening" activity. So, each Monday I've come up with a sort of track and field event.

Kids competed individually, this one show the celebratory race afterward

Shot Put: Used a weighted therapy ball
Discus: Duct-taped a bean bag to a frisbee
High Jump: On the trampoline and with a piece of paper in their hand, they taped a piece to the highest point (they could jump) of our trampoline cage
Hurdles: Obstacles included two kitchen stools and two Home Depot Buckets, and a little jaunt around the yard

Parade of Athletes :-)

The rest of the Family Olympics to be continued. . .

Visiting Janie

Before Janie has her baby, I wanted to add this funny picture to the experience. She is so teeny, but believe it or not, she is going to have her baby next week.

My son thought it might be fun to "check jets" with Janie and see who was bigger.

Pregnancy is such an odd phenomenon isn't it? I can't believe a little baby is swimming around in there Janie. .

Butter is covered

I've been unpacking from a  big family trip across a few states. As I've done so, I came across 3 major irritants, which reminded me of a funny family story and made me chuckle at my own ignorance.

Part of the trip included two camping trips, so before we left, I gathered all the supplies and kind of let my mind exaggerate what was really "needed". I was thinking about camping food and thought, "Hmm, I have all the making of S'Mores, we can have that when we go camping."

Keep in mind that my furnace was still on when we left Washington, and I was wearing pants and a knit jacket. It was also pouring rain. Obviously, I wasn't thinking about the intense car heat awaiting my Toyota in Southeastern Idaho.

These marshamallows have seen better days - Marshamallow Creme anyone?

I'm so glad the choclate didn't escape the wrapper - so glad.

So, in went my marshamallows, chocolate bars, and graham crackers. And, guess what, those three items are the most welll-traveled "S'More" makings in the country. I carted those things around everywhere I went, by the 3rd or 4th day, realized the marshamallows couldn't take treatment I was giving them (leaving them in a grocery bag in my car in 90+ degree temperatures) and the Hershey bar wasn't far behind.



I need to find a fire pit.

I'm reading your mind. Why didn't I just make S'Mores? Well, at the first family reunion, I realized I probably didn't have enough supplies for the big crew and we were having dutch oven peach cobbler -- who's thinking of S'Mores when there is cobbler around the corner? Honestly, I also didn't want to go to the trouble of pulling out this gooey mess without clean running water closeby (kids way outnumbered the adults - it would have been Meeeesssssyy.)

The second camping trip was fire-less.

Ha - ha, it was a first for me too. It was still fun.

The family story I am reminded of is when my Grandpa insisted on buying the butter in Idaho for Thanksgiving dinner to be held in St. George UT - something like 7 hours away. When my family's full car pulled into my grandpa's home to pick him up for the big trip, he came out with a case of butter. He was insistent. My dad simply couldn't talk him out of bringing the butter. The argument that butter is sold in Southern Utah was pointless. Grandpa was meeting the agreement, he agreed to provide the butter and he did it. So, in our already-cramped station wagon, we packed the butter away. 





Field Trip

Today my youngest announced to everyone at Trader Joes -- love that place so much, that we are going on a field trip. All of the yummy snacks are for our field trip :-). Sidenote, have you tried TJ's mango fruit gummies? Love them.

Obviously, my girl has heard lots of talk about field trips. Yesterday we even went on one with my son's class. We went to Cougar Mountain Zoo, which was pretty cool, though slightly disappointing for the price we paid ($12.50). Those tigers were HUGE and amazing to behold. Seriously.

I discovered my kids fight like ring-tailed lemurs (did you know the only place in the entire world lemurs come from is Madagascar?).

I also discovered my youngest is not a screech owl, but a Macaw.

I liked hearing the Orion bird laugh, he reminded me just exactly of my sister Melissa's imitation of, well, a laughing bird I guess.

Anyway, back to field trips :-). I've been thinking about what she said and realizing her wording is more correct than the word "vacation". We'll be going to a place with fields and fields of -- fields. Which is exactly why I want to go there.

I really don't ever see off-road vehicles around my neighborhood, and definitely don't see kids playing in the ditch.

Riding in the back of a truck in suburbia just doesn't happen.

My most favorite mountain range in the world.

We won't get to do this, this summer but my Seattle peops hear stories of "moving pipe" quite often

Fields and Fields

The trip keeps getting delayed because of fun events here, but I promise I'll be visiting a field near you soon :-).

Stash: Part Two

I was looking under my youngest daughter's bed for her shoes or something, when I found multiple containers of wheat thins. I looked up at her and said, "What's this?" Her answer: "That's just my stash".

What have I begun . . .

So, this is Africa

My friend has been compiling needed items for her humanitarian trip to Africa to build a school. She lives a few blocks away from me. For the past two weeks, I have been referring to "those kids in Africa" as I held up a toy or game or book. We came up with a pretty good stash of things to send.

My youngest and I loaded everything on to the front porch of Linda's home. After the first trip, my little girl looked up at me and said, "Is this Africa?"

Do you remember wondering about far-off places when you were a kid?



http://www.vmapas.com/Africa/Africa_Political_Map.jpg/maps-en.html

I don't think Africa was in my comprehension. We watched a show called, "Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego" that was pretty cool and I learned about a lot of far-off sounding places. I wondered how the announcer could say all those names.

When I lived in Utah, USA :-), I became friends with a woman and found out she grew up in Africa. She had whiter skin than me, needless to say - my small-town brain was shocked.



Senator Giffords

Way back when I first started this blog, I posted about my hearing of Senator Gabby Giffords being shot in Arizona. Unfortunately, there were others shot - fatally, but Senator Giffords has beaten ALL odds. I have followed her recovery every chance I get because it is so amazing.

This week, when a magazine I read regularly came out with a front page article detailing her recovery I consumed every detail. It is SO interesting to me AND I am very grateful she is doing so well.

Senator Giffords Recovery

This is actually thrilling to me. To think a person could recover from the injuries she sustained. I'm amazed. In case you don't read every word of the article, I will summarize a little of it by candidly describing her recovery as heroic and even unbelievalbe. The main speech therapist talked about how most people don't have the funds (or insurance coverage) to get as much therapy as Senator Giffords has gotten, which is really sad but very true. I just hope her story gets told over and over so insurance limits might change and others' can have a chance.

Supplies

When you go to the store, couldn't you have a category of "supplies" on your list that includes anything from lysol to baby wipes?

Today, I was at the store and saw loads of bakery-fresh cookies, I didn't look at a number anywhere, but I am sure there were about 2 dozen per container. So, I bought two :-)  They were on sale. Seriously good bargain - $5.00 for all of those cookies. And, since we are going to be eating breakfast for the next few days (ha ha), I went ahead and bought the muffins too.

I have never bought so much preservatives in one setting as this. But, I know eventually summer will come to Seattle and I will not want to bake and my kids will need cookies. I might need cookies too. Plus, I have two birthday-kids in July, plus . . .

I was so embarrassed and all through the store, I tried to cover up my impulse with other foods. The cashier asked, "So, do you have a birthday party today?"

Then, when I got home, being the dunce I am, I saved these three condeming containers till the very end to load from my car. And, who should just "show up" -- one of my friends (I really never ever have visitors). She is teeny and monitors everything she eats. However, she is also super non-judgemental and funny as can be. She pulls up and says, "Do you need a cookie?"

I was so embarrassed. I am still embarrassed. I know I shouldn't have done it, but I did anyway.

This brings me to my "Supplies" post -- I have been trying to suppress the memory of about 48 cookies freezing in my freezer right now (not to mention the 1 or 2 or 4 I had already today - I mean they were broken. I couldn't feeze broken cookies). I was remembering stories of "supply-buying" in grocery stores and chuckling all day. You see, when we were teenagers, buying supplies meant dashing down the tampon aisle, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible and then hoping to avoid eye contact at all costs with the cashier. Either that, or bribe someone else into buying your supplies.

Now, as adults, we need different kinds of supplies. If I need to go into this in more detail, just shoot me a personal email. I'd be glad to have "The Talk" with you. A few years ago, a friend shared with me her story of going to the drugstore to buy an econo-size "supply" for adults. And, who should walk in to the drugstore while she was in line for purchase? One of the few "mature" and "dignified" men still left in this world, who was a well-known member of our church. I'm not sure small talk covered up her supply. :-)

Now it is time to either do some situps or eat one of my cookies.

Stash

My cousins will get a kick out of this post/memory.

Recently, talking with a friend in the front seat, I referred to some snacks in my car as my "stash". I didn't realize I had "big ears" listening in the back, but sure enough, my kids starting asking for something out of my stash (I had Twizzlers Nibs candy in my stash -- don't you love nibs?). Over the next few days, I saw increased climbing around in my car which was when I also noticed my stash disappearing.

Today, my youngest was given a little ziploc bag of goldfish crackers. She brought the little bag out to the car. She began talking about how hungry she was, so I told her to eat some crackers. She said, "Oh, these are my stash, I am saving this till we go to Idaho (few weeks away)". She proceeded to stuff them in one of the holders of the car.

Needless to say, her stash didn't last a day :-)

My memory of "stash" includes watching Grandpa walk back to his bedroom to get some candy (pepto bismal candies or circus peanuts). Those were happy days. My next "stash" recollection is sneaking back into Uncle Kenny's stash - whoa - there were nuts and chips. I don't remember actually daring to take any of his stash, but just seeing all of that food . . .

Anyway, here's to hoping you have a stash somewhere. Even as an adult, it is fun to have something secretive that no one knows about.

Mary Poppins

I don't think I ever watched Mary Poppins as a child and it is a shame. Really, the show is a lot of fun with positive music and a good moral at the end of the story that I love to remind my children: "you kids are best off with your mom and dad, not a nanny." That may be kind of a scare tactic given my parenting skills, but manipulative or not, I will keep reminding them :-).

The part in the show where the kids visit the man who laughs uncontrollably is so funny. My favorite part is when they sing about the different types of laughs. My childhood friend Karen and I use to imitate laughs, it is a very fun activity :-). I can instantly picture Karen laughing. We would both look up at the ceiling laughing so hard no sound would come out. Hilarious.

I Love to Laugh


My kids and I read the book and the real Mary Poppins isn't nearly as sweet and way more vain than even the movie portrayal. I found myself genuinely missing the musical score as I read along with my kids. This is one book I wouldn't recommend - watch the movie instead. Besides that, I just really like Dick Van Dyke :-).

Mr. Rogers

I saw this link a few minutes ago and felt so nostalgic and even weepy (but in a good way), I wanted to share this for my "bit of happiness" for today. I was a faithful and devoted Mr. Rogers fan as a child and plan to "make" my kids watch him all summer this year. He taught me how crayons are made. Even in my professional training, I learned the accolades of Mr. Rogers and the positive influence he was and can still be on children.

Enjoy -- this is so cool:  http://www.ksl.com/index.php?nid=1017&sid=20749716#ooid=ppNGgwNTqQ4aiU17uJ0I0vEEy_56s3_e

I must find this card

I follow a blog (www.gatheringsalongtheway.blogspot.com) of a friend who has a contagious laugh and has made such a positive influence on my life. I can picture her whole experience going down.
http://gatheringsalongtheway.blogspot.com/2012/05/nine-year-old-innocence.html

I love when I read something so funny that I can laugh about it 2 hrs later. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall for this one.

Rockin the Rain Boots

Is it June or January? Who knows? The skies are gray and I've been wearing long sleeves all week. Our furnace has been running.

I do not like a rainy day,

the road is wet, the skies are gray.

They dress me up, from head to toes,

In lots and lots of rubber clothes.

I wish the sun would come and stay.

I do not like a rainy day.

                                   William Wise

However, on this particular rainy day, I couldn't help but chuckle, over and over at my strong-willed daughter during her group violin class.



Can you find her? Look for clown feet.

Before leaving the house, we had all kinds of drama regarding footwear. One daughter refused to wear her rain boots and the other refused to wear anything but rain boots and couldn't find her other boot. Then, as I was literally on the threshold, the loudest of the two started screaming that she wanted to actually wear her rain boots. We were late (of course) for scouts, so I picked her up and said "no way."

Unbeknownst to me, the other daughter pulled out my rain boots and came out to the car, just as quiet and sweet as usual. On the way to scouts, she cautiously asked me, "We aren't going straight to violin from scouts are we?" I said, "yup". Then, she proceeds to cry and try to convince me to go home because her violin friends will see her.

I said, "Nope". The house is not on my route, and especially not in the 6:00 hour. So, off to violin we go (I told her to just take them off at the door, and that no one would notice).

She even had to play a solo today.

The boots went past her knees and the teacher did all kinds of fancy footwork to keep the kids engaged. The three Moms beside me (just for interest sake - one of the three is American, like me, the other two are either Russian or European; just down the row from me was a family from India, I couldn't see their expressions so I don't know if they were getting their comic relief for the day, and the other two parents from across the room - one Asian and I have no idea of the other one's descent since this was the first time I've seen her) were just giggling as we all watched my girl stalwartly and unashamedly perform in class. I do have to hand it to her, I don't think she even blushed. If I could just have a pinch of that confidence. . .