Friday, October 31, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
pic catch up
This is a picture catch up post.
Princess took this one of a poster in her room from an archaeological fair we went to.
Just an interesting pic.
I don't remember if I've already posted this one or not. But it still makes me laugh.
My mom had the cutest idea: she sent the kids each a Halloween card with a $2 bill! I thought it was clever. I shamefully admit that I forgot to give the kids their mail when they got home and only remembered them after the older three were all tucked in. Here is Frieda enjoying her card.
I love this grin. She shows all her cute little teeth and wrinkles her nose.
These two girls, looking like peas in a pod.
She fell asleep like this on Saturday. It was a long day.
There was a case lot sale where we got a box of bacon. I thought it would be in one pound packages. Imagine my surprise.
Man's hummingbird feeder.
She sometimes locks herself in bedrooms and then hollers for help. She only hollered a couple of times before stopping, so I checked on her and found this. Doesn't look comfy at all.
And I just noticed I don't have any pics of Princess this time 'round. She usually prefers to be behind the camera, just like her old mom.
Princess took this one of a poster in her room from an archaeological fair we went to.
Just an interesting pic.
I don't remember if I've already posted this one or not. But it still makes me laugh.
My mom had the cutest idea: she sent the kids each a Halloween card with a $2 bill! I thought it was clever. I shamefully admit that I forgot to give the kids their mail when they got home and only remembered them after the older three were all tucked in. Here is Frieda enjoying her card.
I love this grin. She shows all her cute little teeth and wrinkles her nose.
These two girls, looking like peas in a pod.
She fell asleep like this on Saturday. It was a long day.
There was a case lot sale where we got a box of bacon. I thought it would be in one pound packages. Imagine my surprise.
Man's hummingbird feeder.
She sometimes locks herself in bedrooms and then hollers for help. She only hollered a couple of times before stopping, so I checked on her and found this. Doesn't look comfy at all.
And I just noticed I don't have any pics of Princess this time 'round. She usually prefers to be behind the camera, just like her old mom.
Cost analysis
9 pound briscuit = $15
1 bottle liquid smoke - $2.45
Salts for rub = $2
Labor (rubbing meat, setting to rest overnight, preparing roasting vessel, removing excess fat, clean up) = 3 hours.
Total final product = slightly under 3 pounds.
Price per pound = $6.48, $6.98 if you include the KC Masterpiece that goes on top of the meat.
VS
5 pounds bbq beef in tub from Sams = $10
Price per pound = $3.33, and that includes bbq sauce.
What will I be buying from now on? The math says it all.
-sob- I need to go clean more grease off my counter.
1 bottle liquid smoke - $2.45
Salts for rub = $2
Labor (rubbing meat, setting to rest overnight, preparing roasting vessel, removing excess fat, clean up) = 3 hours.
Total final product = slightly under 3 pounds.
Price per pound = $6.48, $6.98 if you include the KC Masterpiece that goes on top of the meat.
VS
5 pounds bbq beef in tub from Sams = $10
Price per pound = $3.33, and that includes bbq sauce.
What will I be buying from now on? The math says it all.
-sob- I need to go clean more grease off my counter.
Halloween
Pebbles, what do you want to be for Halloween?
Mmmmm, circle!
You want to be a circle?
Yeah! -grin-
Mmmmm, circle!
You want to be a circle?
Yeah! -grin-
Kids say the darndest things
We arrived a few minutes before church started. Today was pretty special since Bishop had gotten permission to completely flip the meetings so the Primary kids could practice their program. Last week we had to drive to the larger building on the other side of town since our building was getting the gym floor refinished. These people also don't want to have Saturday practices. We had had only one previous run through and it had been just to have all the kids walk up to the microphone, say their name, and sing the songs in the right spots. There would be no dress rehearsal.
We went to the primary room and I played prelude and a few practice songs until we could file on down into the chapel. We went through everyone's parts with great brevity, and the special bits of the songs had a really fast run through. It looked like it was all coming together in a quick-patch sort of way. Our class, the Sunbeams, was having the roughest time with sitting still, as was to be expected. We have one little girl who NEVER sits in her seat. She's the daughter of the primary chorister, so she follows her mom around everywhere and refuses to stay put. I play the piano, and Man holds our baby and tries to keep order, so she's not only the squeaky wheel, she's the popped hubcap that's fleeing across the cow pasture next to the highway. We're working with her.
During practice she wouldn't keep her seat or say anything into the microphone and ran out of the chapel several times to find her sympathetic father since all of the people in the room who have the authority to check her had their hands completely full. Oh, well. Kids were largely remembering their lines and one kind teacher ended up being the stage-whisper lady for the ones who needed a nudge.
After a practice that took 44 mins, we headed back to the primary room where the kids got a heavy snack of crackers, cheese, fruit, and water. It was a great idea. It made them all happy and tired enough that they actually sat pretty still during sacrament meeting.
The kids sat on the stand from the beginning of the meeting. Man sat with our class while I had Pebbles and Freida on a pew, and a sub played the piano. It was the first sacrament meeting in YEARS where I've been able to just close my eyes and meditate. It was wonderful.
The program started out with a narration from one of two older boys, and kids started saying their parts into the microphone. Tag had a line during the "things I love about this world" part: "I like walking to school and seeing the sunrise. It's cool looking."
The idea the leaders had this year was to ask the kids questions relating to the primary program, write down their actual responses, and let them say those during the program. It was brilliant.
Other kids:
I like airplanes and jets.
I like rain and sand, and playing in them.
I like my toys and I like to play with my baby.
Except, the last bit was rushed and whispered and ended up sounding like "I like to play with my peepee."
Oh, did I mention that because of the flip-flop that we had the single's ward with us? They were a great audience.
We got to that little girl's turn at the microphone and wonder of wonders she happily said her part! Her mother was thrilled. But then she wouldn't get down from the lectern. Her mom gestured her away. S shook her head. Her mom jerked her hands in a gesture that appeared to mean "kid, please, just step away from the darn step stool." S shook her head and smiled coyly. The Stage Whisper lady eventually came and peeled her away with just a little resistance.
The program progressed with some great special musical guests to cover the kids' lack of knowing words to extra verses, but it really enhanced the whole experience. The bishopric sang the second two verses of Tell Me the Stories of Jesus while the kids "oooo'd" which was just perfect. The missionaries sang the second verse of Called To Serve. One older child sang the third verse to If The Savior Stood Beside Me. She did a fantastic job. The H family got to sing the second verse of I Love to See The Temple.
Ok, let's backtrack about 20 years real quick.
My family used to sing songs before bedtime. We sang I Love To See the Temple and it went like this:
I love to see the temple
I'm going there some day
To feel the Holy Spirit
To listen and to pray
For the temple is a holy place
Where we are sealed together
As a child of God I've learned this truth:
A family is forever.
However, some smart boy decided to split that verse in half, make up some more words, and thus we now have two verses that go like this:
I love to see the temple
I'm going there some day
To feel the Holy Spirit
To listen and to pray
For the temple is the house of God
A place of love and beauty
I'll prepare myself while I am young
This is my sacred duty
I love to see the temple
I'll go inside some day
I'll covenant with my Father
I'll promise to obey
For the temple is a holy place
Where we are sealed together
As a child of God I've learned this truth
A family is forever.
So, Man and I have been practicing as a family for the past two weeks. We got the words perfect, the kids knew the words, Man had worked out his own wonderful harmony and we were ready.
For the actual singing of the song, we (who have come to be known as the Other Osmonds, no, not my idea) had a total flashback experience to our own childhood primary programs and TOTALLY bombed the words in the middle. We recovered and smiled and wondered if the other adults who learned the other words felt our pain. Maybe it'll keep us from being asked to duet for a while. lol
At some point during the program I noticed that we had fewer and fewer Sunbeams on the stand. I realized our big mistake: they all had a big snack and a drink and we forgot to take them to the bathroom before sacrament meeting. They had gone for two and a half hours without a bathroom break and, right in the middle of it all, they took turns asking my pained-looking husband if they could go use the potty right now. A couple of parents from the congregation got up from their seats to see that the wee ones behaved themselves in the bathroom and soon all was restored. The older kids didn't bat an eyelash. It all went smoothly.
Anyway, Tag had two parts. The second part was about what they loved about their families. Tag's reply: I like that we eat food together, like pie and ice cream. That got a laugh. So did the kid who said "I like my family because of the TREATS." And of course there was the obligatory kid who stared at the congregation like a deer in headlights, while the Stage Whisper lady tried to get their attention. The kid sort of half-smiles then says "WHAT?" really loudly into the microphone. It happens every year and it always evokes a laugh, especially from the young singles. This year, it was our kid. He looked so entranced by all those faces just staring at him. Imagine that: Tag loved the attention of 150 people people on him all at once. There were several kids who, though faced with all those grownups while they were seated, looked visibly startled to walk to the lectern and find that the grownups were still there and, what's more, there were more of them than they could see from their seats.
Princess said her lines wonderfully (lines she wrote herself) and she read a talk on the Holy Ghost that we made together. She was struggling with a couple of the words during practice, but didn't need help with them at all during the program. She read them perfectly. I was so proud of her and she glowed.
The congregation joined in for the second two verses of We Thank Thee O God For a Prophet and then the closing hymn was If The Savior Stood Beside Me Part Deux, with the congregation singing the whole song. It was a very moving experience to see so much participation from so many different aspects of our little ward family. All of the stress was worth those 40 minutes. The kids did such a great job, the songs turned out great, and there wasn't a dry eye in the room by the time we got done singing together.
And it bears repeating: kids say the darndest things.
We went to the primary room and I played prelude and a few practice songs until we could file on down into the chapel. We went through everyone's parts with great brevity, and the special bits of the songs had a really fast run through. It looked like it was all coming together in a quick-patch sort of way. Our class, the Sunbeams, was having the roughest time with sitting still, as was to be expected. We have one little girl who NEVER sits in her seat. She's the daughter of the primary chorister, so she follows her mom around everywhere and refuses to stay put. I play the piano, and Man holds our baby and tries to keep order, so she's not only the squeaky wheel, she's the popped hubcap that's fleeing across the cow pasture next to the highway. We're working with her.
During practice she wouldn't keep her seat or say anything into the microphone and ran out of the chapel several times to find her sympathetic father since all of the people in the room who have the authority to check her had their hands completely full. Oh, well. Kids were largely remembering their lines and one kind teacher ended up being the stage-whisper lady for the ones who needed a nudge.
After a practice that took 44 mins, we headed back to the primary room where the kids got a heavy snack of crackers, cheese, fruit, and water. It was a great idea. It made them all happy and tired enough that they actually sat pretty still during sacrament meeting.
The kids sat on the stand from the beginning of the meeting. Man sat with our class while I had Pebbles and Freida on a pew, and a sub played the piano. It was the first sacrament meeting in YEARS where I've been able to just close my eyes and meditate. It was wonderful.
The program started out with a narration from one of two older boys, and kids started saying their parts into the microphone. Tag had a line during the "things I love about this world" part: "I like walking to school and seeing the sunrise. It's cool looking."
The idea the leaders had this year was to ask the kids questions relating to the primary program, write down their actual responses, and let them say those during the program. It was brilliant.
Other kids:
I like airplanes and jets.
I like rain and sand, and playing in them.
I like my toys and I like to play with my baby.
Except, the last bit was rushed and whispered and ended up sounding like "I like to play with my peepee."
Oh, did I mention that because of the flip-flop that we had the single's ward with us? They were a great audience.
We got to that little girl's turn at the microphone and wonder of wonders she happily said her part! Her mother was thrilled. But then she wouldn't get down from the lectern. Her mom gestured her away. S shook her head. Her mom jerked her hands in a gesture that appeared to mean "kid, please, just step away from the darn step stool." S shook her head and smiled coyly. The Stage Whisper lady eventually came and peeled her away with just a little resistance.
The program progressed with some great special musical guests to cover the kids' lack of knowing words to extra verses, but it really enhanced the whole experience. The bishopric sang the second two verses of Tell Me the Stories of Jesus while the kids "oooo'd" which was just perfect. The missionaries sang the second verse of Called To Serve. One older child sang the third verse to If The Savior Stood Beside Me. She did a fantastic job. The H family got to sing the second verse of I Love to See The Temple.
Ok, let's backtrack about 20 years real quick.
My family used to sing songs before bedtime. We sang I Love To See the Temple and it went like this:
I love to see the temple
I'm going there some day
To feel the Holy Spirit
To listen and to pray
For the temple is a holy place
Where we are sealed together
As a child of God I've learned this truth:
A family is forever.
However, some smart boy decided to split that verse in half, make up some more words, and thus we now have two verses that go like this:
I love to see the temple
I'm going there some day
To feel the Holy Spirit
To listen and to pray
For the temple is the house of God
A place of love and beauty
I'll prepare myself while I am young
This is my sacred duty
I love to see the temple
I'll go inside some day
I'll covenant with my Father
I'll promise to obey
For the temple is a holy place
Where we are sealed together
As a child of God I've learned this truth
A family is forever.
So, Man and I have been practicing as a family for the past two weeks. We got the words perfect, the kids knew the words, Man had worked out his own wonderful harmony and we were ready.
For the actual singing of the song, we (who have come to be known as the Other Osmonds, no, not my idea) had a total flashback experience to our own childhood primary programs and TOTALLY bombed the words in the middle. We recovered and smiled and wondered if the other adults who learned the other words felt our pain. Maybe it'll keep us from being asked to duet for a while. lol
At some point during the program I noticed that we had fewer and fewer Sunbeams on the stand. I realized our big mistake: they all had a big snack and a drink and we forgot to take them to the bathroom before sacrament meeting. They had gone for two and a half hours without a bathroom break and, right in the middle of it all, they took turns asking my pained-looking husband if they could go use the potty right now. A couple of parents from the congregation got up from their seats to see that the wee ones behaved themselves in the bathroom and soon all was restored. The older kids didn't bat an eyelash. It all went smoothly.
Anyway, Tag had two parts. The second part was about what they loved about their families. Tag's reply: I like that we eat food together, like pie and ice cream. That got a laugh. So did the kid who said "I like my family because of the TREATS." And of course there was the obligatory kid who stared at the congregation like a deer in headlights, while the Stage Whisper lady tried to get their attention. The kid sort of half-smiles then says "WHAT?" really loudly into the microphone. It happens every year and it always evokes a laugh, especially from the young singles. This year, it was our kid. He looked so entranced by all those faces just staring at him. Imagine that: Tag loved the attention of 150 people people on him all at once. There were several kids who, though faced with all those grownups while they were seated, looked visibly startled to walk to the lectern and find that the grownups were still there and, what's more, there were more of them than they could see from their seats.
Princess said her lines wonderfully (lines she wrote herself) and she read a talk on the Holy Ghost that we made together. She was struggling with a couple of the words during practice, but didn't need help with them at all during the program. She read them perfectly. I was so proud of her and she glowed.
The congregation joined in for the second two verses of We Thank Thee O God For a Prophet and then the closing hymn was If The Savior Stood Beside Me Part Deux, with the congregation singing the whole song. It was a very moving experience to see so much participation from so many different aspects of our little ward family. All of the stress was worth those 40 minutes. The kids did such a great job, the songs turned out great, and there wasn't a dry eye in the room by the time we got done singing together.
And it bears repeating: kids say the darndest things.
Friday, October 24, 2008
The lazy Perfectaplegic
I am. I'm lazy.
Wait, no, not lazy. I take one look at something, feel the impact of the entire project, and collapse while simultaneously thinking of dew-flecked red tulips, trembling in a cool breeze that strolls across a grandly sweeping grassy valley. The valley has a little brook, and bitty clouds trail across a dazzlingly deep sky. I have a Grecian palace at one end of the valley, with flowing purple silks hanging among carved columns, and I have a personal chef, maid, gardener, and pool boy even though I don't have a pool. I think of this place through eyes that have to face the reality of a living room I cannot solve.
Do you know that feeling when someone is describing something to you and then they get to the word "but"? It's the moment of dread, wondering what could be on the other side of that simple little word that could completely change the meaning and direction of what came before. The power of "but" is mysterious and often disappointing. It's a traitor. I hate the feeling of the word "but". So, understand that as you read the following, and imagine how I feel:
The simple reality is, we have too much stuff. But, it isn't all mine. But I want it to leave. But I can't get rid of it. But I need to get rid of it. But if I do, Man will feel betrayed and deprived. But he doesn't understand. But he needs to understand so I can be happy here too. But it's his stuff and it's important to him. But I stay here all day long and have to deal with it and I have to clean around it and push things around in and among it so it all fits. But it's his and he likes it and wants it and its useful.
Each time I get to each bend in this wickedly crooked trail of logic I feel that stab, that slight feeling of breathless anxiety as I think of different ways to solve this problem and someone's BUT gets in my way.
I'm part of the problem. He doesn't have the time and I (fingerquote)DO(/fingerquote) to go through all the stuff we have and decide what goes and what stays. And then I (fq)have the time(/fq) to dispose of it all properly through freecycle, recycling, dumps, and parceling out the garbage at a pace that won't upset our nice garbage men. Some of this is my stuff. Some of this is stuff I insisted on acquiring. So obviously I can't and I won't blame it all on him because that nice man actually helped me rearrange the living room tonight after a semi-blow up about people walking in front of the tv while the tv and the person occupied by it was busy.
Here this now and understand it: there is nothing on tv that is more important than your family. Ever. Never, ever.
TV can be paused. Turned off. Recorded for later viewing. Or ignored. It will always be there and it will always get better/worse regardless of if we're there to monitor its progress for just one more minute please it's almost over... All games worth playing can be paused somehow. They can be saved so you can come to dinner in a timely manner. They can be muted and dimmed for family scripture and prayer time. And all of this can be done without fighting or feeling put upon. All of this can be done gracefully, with dignity and decorum.
So, we rearranged the living room so that it is virtually impossible for someone to walk in front of the tv without smashing into something immediately afterward. I'm not saying that someone won't, and if I were a betting woman I'd put some donuts down that say it'll happen a few times this very weekend. It has effectively cut the living room in half, which I despise, but one point of moderate contention in our home has been resolved.
And yet, for all this OCD, perfectaplegic, anxiety attack-inducing clutter drama, I've got "mother of more than 2 kids" syndrome. Today we went and had lunch with Man on post. We were enjoying hotdogs and I was giving Freida little pieces of bun and hotdog (have you seen BallPark's jumbo hotdogs? freaks of freakin' nature, they are) when someone seemed a little surprised that I was giving my baby bits of mystery meat. I told him she was lucky I wasn't just giving her the whole weiner to munch on, which almost caused the man in question to inhale his own chaking hazard in a gufaw.
Then we went to Wal-Mart where one of the nice sample ladies gave us some Mentos to munch on during our box store browsings. Pebbles dropped hers somewhere in the meat section (never to be seen again) which of course was The End Of The World As She Knew It. I looked around real quick, and gave her mine. Yes, prechewed. Well, chewed by me. I didn't get it already chewed. Ahem. Moving on.
So, I'm organizing a price book so I can maximize our food dollar, even though gas is $2.13 at last count this afternoon. And I'm on my fifth version just for formatting issues. I havn't even bought food the last couple of weeks because I've had a serious, OCD shutdown. We've used food in the weirdest ways just so I don't have to put together another menu because my old menus don't worry anymore given my changing grocery resources and monetary resources. No more California Rolls, and trimming the meat and cheese in any way possible, etc.
So, I havn't organized my perfect menus yet because I don't have my perfect price books yet, and thus we've had these chicken salad sandwiches that we slapped cheese on and grilled like a normal grilled cheese sandwich (very tasty, by the way) but ate them with butternut squash soup.
We've eaten chicken pot pie that was very heavy on the potatoes and had more of a curry persuasion, and bread crumbs instead of an upper crust.
We had homemade pizza with pesto instead of pizza sauce (thanks, Friend C, it tastes awesome!) and used our remaining couple of marinated artichoke hearts on it as well.
We've made burritos only to find that the frozen beans and rice I thawed were more along the lines of red beans and ham than refries. Oh, well. That kind tastes fine with salsa and cheese, too.
We've also tried the saltines and honey that the little elf guy in Spiderwick Chronicles liked so much, and the kids have gone crazy with that. It's their new favorite snack, followed by one that I liked as a kid: raw oats with brown sugar sprinkled on. I still like that snack.
-sigh- This is crazy. Just insane. We ended up having pancakes for dinner because we simply ran out of any other reasonable ingredient to prepare. I will have to go grocery shopping tomorrow.
Right after I take Princess to her Scout event, revise my price lists again, go to my three major grocery stores, take a load of boxes to GoodWill, and declutter my newly arranged living room. Oh, and write a talk for Princess for the primary program on Sunday, fold three loads of laundry... oh, you get the idea. I'm forever "getting organized" but I've never actually arrived. If I do, don't ask where the cold breeze is coming from.
Wait, no, not lazy. I take one look at something, feel the impact of the entire project, and collapse while simultaneously thinking of dew-flecked red tulips, trembling in a cool breeze that strolls across a grandly sweeping grassy valley. The valley has a little brook, and bitty clouds trail across a dazzlingly deep sky. I have a Grecian palace at one end of the valley, with flowing purple silks hanging among carved columns, and I have a personal chef, maid, gardener, and pool boy even though I don't have a pool. I think of this place through eyes that have to face the reality of a living room I cannot solve.
Do you know that feeling when someone is describing something to you and then they get to the word "but"? It's the moment of dread, wondering what could be on the other side of that simple little word that could completely change the meaning and direction of what came before. The power of "but" is mysterious and often disappointing. It's a traitor. I hate the feeling of the word "but". So, understand that as you read the following, and imagine how I feel:
The simple reality is, we have too much stuff. But, it isn't all mine. But I want it to leave. But I can't get rid of it. But I need to get rid of it. But if I do, Man will feel betrayed and deprived. But he doesn't understand. But he needs to understand so I can be happy here too. But it's his stuff and it's important to him. But I stay here all day long and have to deal with it and I have to clean around it and push things around in and among it so it all fits. But it's his and he likes it and wants it and its useful.
Each time I get to each bend in this wickedly crooked trail of logic I feel that stab, that slight feeling of breathless anxiety as I think of different ways to solve this problem and someone's BUT gets in my way.
I'm part of the problem. He doesn't have the time and I (fingerquote)DO(/fingerquote) to go through all the stuff we have and decide what goes and what stays. And then I (fq)have the time(/fq) to dispose of it all properly through freecycle, recycling, dumps, and parceling out the garbage at a pace that won't upset our nice garbage men. Some of this is my stuff. Some of this is stuff I insisted on acquiring. So obviously I can't and I won't blame it all on him because that nice man actually helped me rearrange the living room tonight after a semi-blow up about people walking in front of the tv while the tv and the person occupied by it was busy.
Here this now and understand it: there is nothing on tv that is more important than your family. Ever. Never, ever.
TV can be paused. Turned off. Recorded for later viewing. Or ignored. It will always be there and it will always get better/worse regardless of if we're there to monitor its progress for just one more minute please it's almost over... All games worth playing can be paused somehow. They can be saved so you can come to dinner in a timely manner. They can be muted and dimmed for family scripture and prayer time. And all of this can be done without fighting or feeling put upon. All of this can be done gracefully, with dignity and decorum.
So, we rearranged the living room so that it is virtually impossible for someone to walk in front of the tv without smashing into something immediately afterward. I'm not saying that someone won't, and if I were a betting woman I'd put some donuts down that say it'll happen a few times this very weekend. It has effectively cut the living room in half, which I despise, but one point of moderate contention in our home has been resolved.
And yet, for all this OCD, perfectaplegic, anxiety attack-inducing clutter drama, I've got "mother of more than 2 kids" syndrome. Today we went and had lunch with Man on post. We were enjoying hotdogs and I was giving Freida little pieces of bun and hotdog (have you seen BallPark's jumbo hotdogs? freaks of freakin' nature, they are) when someone seemed a little surprised that I was giving my baby bits of mystery meat. I told him she was lucky I wasn't just giving her the whole weiner to munch on, which almost caused the man in question to inhale his own chaking hazard in a gufaw.
Then we went to Wal-Mart where one of the nice sample ladies gave us some Mentos to munch on during our box store browsings. Pebbles dropped hers somewhere in the meat section (never to be seen again) which of course was The End Of The World As She Knew It. I looked around real quick, and gave her mine. Yes, prechewed. Well, chewed by me. I didn't get it already chewed. Ahem. Moving on.
So, I'm organizing a price book so I can maximize our food dollar, even though gas is $2.13 at last count this afternoon. And I'm on my fifth version just for formatting issues. I havn't even bought food the last couple of weeks because I've had a serious, OCD shutdown. We've used food in the weirdest ways just so I don't have to put together another menu because my old menus don't worry anymore given my changing grocery resources and monetary resources. No more California Rolls, and trimming the meat and cheese in any way possible, etc.
So, I havn't organized my perfect menus yet because I don't have my perfect price books yet, and thus we've had these chicken salad sandwiches that we slapped cheese on and grilled like a normal grilled cheese sandwich (very tasty, by the way) but ate them with butternut squash soup.
We've eaten chicken pot pie that was very heavy on the potatoes and had more of a curry persuasion, and bread crumbs instead of an upper crust.
We had homemade pizza with pesto instead of pizza sauce (thanks, Friend C, it tastes awesome!) and used our remaining couple of marinated artichoke hearts on it as well.
We've made burritos only to find that the frozen beans and rice I thawed were more along the lines of red beans and ham than refries. Oh, well. That kind tastes fine with salsa and cheese, too.
We've also tried the saltines and honey that the little elf guy in Spiderwick Chronicles liked so much, and the kids have gone crazy with that. It's their new favorite snack, followed by one that I liked as a kid: raw oats with brown sugar sprinkled on. I still like that snack.
-sigh- This is crazy. Just insane. We ended up having pancakes for dinner because we simply ran out of any other reasonable ingredient to prepare. I will have to go grocery shopping tomorrow.
Right after I take Princess to her Scout event, revise my price lists again, go to my three major grocery stores, take a load of boxes to GoodWill, and declutter my newly arranged living room. Oh, and write a talk for Princess for the primary program on Sunday, fold three loads of laundry... oh, you get the idea. I'm forever "getting organized" but I've never actually arrived. If I do, don't ask where the cold breeze is coming from.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Spanking vs Shacking
Laugh Out Loud, folks. Based on this article, entitled "Spank Your Kids? You Likely Vote Republican." you are likely to vote Republican if you're what Jim Fay calls a Drill Sergeant-style parent.
Pipe down, you exceptions. They covered their rears when they said "likely."
We believe in well-behaved and considerate children, but we also encourage independent thought and self-sufficiency. We're registered Independents. :)
And folks, don't mind my politics. I'm not interested in war with those who disagree with me. I grew up Republican but saw a bit of the other side of things when I lived in Colorado. And next time you vote, take a look and see how many parties actually have a candidate for President, yet we limit ourselves to just two choices. There are even people running for that office who are listed as "unaffiliated" (including ol' Ralph Nader this year, who is running for the 4th time -- 5th, if you count the year he was a write-in).
-sigh- I'll be glad to have this thing over with.
Pipe down, you exceptions. They covered their rears when they said "likely."
We believe in well-behaved and considerate children, but we also encourage independent thought and self-sufficiency. We're registered Independents. :)
And folks, don't mind my politics. I'm not interested in war with those who disagree with me. I grew up Republican but saw a bit of the other side of things when I lived in Colorado. And next time you vote, take a look and see how many parties actually have a candidate for President, yet we limit ourselves to just two choices. There are even people running for that office who are listed as "unaffiliated" (including ol' Ralph Nader this year, who is running for the 4th time -- 5th, if you count the year he was a write-in).
-sigh- I'll be glad to have this thing over with.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Empty Nester? NOT!
Today's randomly selected topic: Tell about your life as the children left home - new interest, what did you do with the extra time -- new employment, movies, hobbies, etc.
Hmmm. Well, when the older kids started going to school, my house was very clean. I felt like I finally had time to scrape things into order without it falling apart instantly.
Then I found Hulu. And I start visiting teaching. And I have two callings. And then there's cooking, and grocery shopping, laundry, keeping up with the kids on chore charts and homework, reading... do you see where this is going? It's like income. As soon as you get more, you feel rich but then you always find ways to spend it and need more.
I always thought that I'd do things like go to school (which is still on the backburner for the next place we live -- our New Year's tradition is to file a FAFSA about 5 mins after midnight), maybe drive around more and do fun mom things, as if I only had two kids. I've thought about gardening which is a lot of fun but nothing I really want to invest in here. I thought I'd exercise a lot more, which I guess I am, since "some" is a lot more than "none."
I like the part in that movie "Failure to Launch" where the guy leaves his parents' house only to find that his dad has converted his old bedroom into a "naked room". Ha! My parents just made a study when I left. I think it'd be nice to have less stuff around with fewer people, and nice to have the place stuffed to the gills when the people come back to visit with more people. I like to think that I'd spend some of all that free time making sure this is a great place for the kids and grands to come for the holidays.
I've always wanted to paint a really big picture on one wall of my house. Something with cherry blossoms or a lighthouse. And a poem. A short poem that's profound, beautiful, and excites a person to be better just by reading it and owning it in their hearts.
When I find that poem, I'll let you know. It might have to a haiku, given my patience/skill levels. Although stencils can make up for a lot in both of those areas.
I know one thing for sure: I won't be moping around when they're all gone. There is too much to do!
Hmmm. Well, when the older kids started going to school, my house was very clean. I felt like I finally had time to scrape things into order without it falling apart instantly.
Then I found Hulu. And I start visiting teaching. And I have two callings. And then there's cooking, and grocery shopping, laundry, keeping up with the kids on chore charts and homework, reading... do you see where this is going? It's like income. As soon as you get more, you feel rich but then you always find ways to spend it and need more.
I always thought that I'd do things like go to school (which is still on the backburner for the next place we live -- our New Year's tradition is to file a FAFSA about 5 mins after midnight), maybe drive around more and do fun mom things, as if I only had two kids. I've thought about gardening which is a lot of fun but nothing I really want to invest in here. I thought I'd exercise a lot more, which I guess I am, since "some" is a lot more than "none."
I like the part in that movie "Failure to Launch" where the guy leaves his parents' house only to find that his dad has converted his old bedroom into a "naked room". Ha! My parents just made a study when I left. I think it'd be nice to have less stuff around with fewer people, and nice to have the place stuffed to the gills when the people come back to visit with more people. I like to think that I'd spend some of all that free time making sure this is a great place for the kids and grands to come for the holidays.
I've always wanted to paint a really big picture on one wall of my house. Something with cherry blossoms or a lighthouse. And a poem. A short poem that's profound, beautiful, and excites a person to be better just by reading it and owning it in their hearts.
When I find that poem, I'll let you know. It might have to a haiku, given my patience/skill levels. Although stencils can make up for a lot in both of those areas.
I know one thing for sure: I won't be moping around when they're all gone. There is too much to do!
Monday, October 20, 2008
Menudo
Oh. My. Goodness. A friend down the street has a Latino boyfriend for whom she cooks menudo soup. Tonight she mentioned her meal plans as I was pulling a homemade pizza out of the oven. I told her I'd never tried it before so she offered to bring a sample by later in the evening.
I came home from a quick trip to the store to find she had come and gone in my absence.
I tried a sip of the broth first. It tasted like water down enchilada sauce. Next came some hominy which made it taste a lot like enchiladas with corn tortillas. Last, I tried the menudo.
Heaven help me. I couldn't swallow it. It was rubbery, and seemed like a cross between chicken and soft tofu, except slimier.
I spit it out but nothing prepared me for the aftertaste of some poor beast's offal. I shuddered, I still shudder, and I can't get the taste out of my mouth. She told me that it's an acquired taste. She was not kidding.
Blech, blech, blech.
I came home from a quick trip to the store to find she had come and gone in my absence.
I tried a sip of the broth first. It tasted like water down enchilada sauce. Next came some hominy which made it taste a lot like enchiladas with corn tortillas. Last, I tried the menudo.
Heaven help me. I couldn't swallow it. It was rubbery, and seemed like a cross between chicken and soft tofu, except slimier.
I spit it out but nothing prepared me for the aftertaste of some poor beast's offal. I shuddered, I still shudder, and I can't get the taste out of my mouth. She told me that it's an acquired taste. She was not kidding.
Blech, blech, blech.
Vacations
I think it'd have to be the road trip we took with this move.
I'd really rather describe my dream vacation.
Kids: No.
Husband: Yes!
Length: 2 weeks or longer.
Destination: Greece, or Germany.
I don't mind backpacking and if it were just us two adults, we could travel very light. I'd like to go in the fall. Germany for Man, Greece for me. It'd be neat to see 1,000+ year old buildings, sample real German sausage, see the history and art, and use public transit.
I think it'd be a relief to be in a country where I wouldn't understand the language. It'd be more isolating and thus more of a vacation. What do you really need that hand gestures, a tourist phrase book, and a smile can't get you? Just bring a GPS and your own toilet paper.
What's your dream vacation?
I'd really rather describe my dream vacation.
Kids: No.
Husband: Yes!
Length: 2 weeks or longer.
Destination: Greece, or Germany.
I don't mind backpacking and if it were just us two adults, we could travel very light. I'd like to go in the fall. Germany for Man, Greece for me. It'd be neat to see 1,000+ year old buildings, sample real German sausage, see the history and art, and use public transit.
I think it'd be a relief to be in a country where I wouldn't understand the language. It'd be more isolating and thus more of a vacation. What do you really need that hand gestures, a tourist phrase book, and a smile can't get you? Just bring a GPS and your own toilet paper.
What's your dream vacation?
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Journal Jar postings
I got a journal jar at an enrichment a couple of weeks ago and, since this is the closest thing to a journal that I've got, I may as well use it here.
Today's randomly selected topic: Tell about handed down talents, foods, clothespin dolls, willow whistles, pottery, quilting, whittling, meat drying, etc.
First of all, wow. How old do they think I am?
My paternal grandmother knits and crochets, but I didn't learn how from her. I guess I inherited a love and fascination with string from her and my dad. Dad told of how he could take a whole roll of string and chain crochet the whole thing with his fingers, then take the chain and chain it again but not the whole length, and in that manner make a bull whip of telescoping diameter. That, folks, is patience. If there's tangled yarn about, I really prefer to untangle the yarn than crochet with it. But, since crochet and knitting is basically tangling yarn in an orderly fashion, it's the next best thing.
From my dad, I learned how to wiggle my ears and to love writing.
My mom taught me how to see beauty in all children.
I got a love of cooking from my maternal grandparents, even though I don't even approach their skill, creativity, and sense of adventure.
Uncle J taught me how to branch out in my musical taste and just get over the petty.
From them all, I learned that cross word puzzles among family can be exciting and entertaining, you don't need a holiday to get together with family and eat good food, and "I love you" doesn't always have to be said in so many words.
-twiddling my thumbs- Hm... I was hoping these things would be a little more entertaining. Maybe tomorrow's will be.
Today's randomly selected topic: Tell about handed down talents, foods, clothespin dolls, willow whistles, pottery, quilting, whittling, meat drying, etc.
First of all, wow. How old do they think I am?
My paternal grandmother knits and crochets, but I didn't learn how from her. I guess I inherited a love and fascination with string from her and my dad. Dad told of how he could take a whole roll of string and chain crochet the whole thing with his fingers, then take the chain and chain it again but not the whole length, and in that manner make a bull whip of telescoping diameter. That, folks, is patience. If there's tangled yarn about, I really prefer to untangle the yarn than crochet with it. But, since crochet and knitting is basically tangling yarn in an orderly fashion, it's the next best thing.
From my dad, I learned how to wiggle my ears and to love writing.
My mom taught me how to see beauty in all children.
I got a love of cooking from my maternal grandparents, even though I don't even approach their skill, creativity, and sense of adventure.
Uncle J taught me how to branch out in my musical taste and just get over the petty.
From them all, I learned that cross word puzzles among family can be exciting and entertaining, you don't need a holiday to get together with family and eat good food, and "I love you" doesn't always have to be said in so many words.
-twiddling my thumbs- Hm... I was hoping these things would be a little more entertaining. Maybe tomorrow's will be.
Friday, October 17, 2008
New editing feature
I love the new retouch feature on Picasa 3. Just look at what I can do with it
Before:
After:
No, seriously, here's after:
And here's another mug shot after makeup:
Before:
After:
No, seriously, here's after:
And here's another mug shot after makeup:
Today's mess -- paper shredder
It could be worse. It could be jello all over the floor. Red Jello, with strawberries mashed into the carpet.
It could have been a whole bottle of rubber cement.
It could have been someone tearing their diaper apart.
It could have been last night's beans and rice walked on and smeared on the tv screen.
(none of the above have actually happened in my home. yet. thank goodness.)
Ack!! We've been caught!
Pebbles: Hi mom! [quick, do I blame the baby thing over there, do I do the cute eyes, what do I do?]
Bean: Baba! [wow, she was pretty mad about the cheese yesterday. Do I worry about this one or just wait and see what happens?]
Pebbles: Pitcher! [Hmmm, she isn't mad yet, so let's try cute.]
Bean: Oooo! [I'm still not sure about this lady. Why isn't she just jumping in here and having a snack, I mean having a good time with us?]
Pebbles: [awesome, cute worked and I didn't even have to blame the baby.]
Bean: [maybe if I give her some she'll feel responsible for the mess, too, and clean it up for me. Man, this stuff tastes great.]
It could have been a whole bottle of rubber cement.
It could have been someone tearing their diaper apart.
It could have been last night's beans and rice walked on and smeared on the tv screen.
(none of the above have actually happened in my home. yet. thank goodness.)
Ack!! We've been caught!
Pebbles: Hi mom! [quick, do I blame the baby thing over there, do I do the cute eyes, what do I do?]
Bean: Baba! [wow, she was pretty mad about the cheese yesterday. Do I worry about this one or just wait and see what happens?]
Pebbles: Pitcher! [Hmmm, she isn't mad yet, so let's try cute.]
Bean: Oooo! [I'm still not sure about this lady. Why isn't she just jumping in here and having a snack, I mean having a good time with us?]
Pebbles: [awesome, cute worked and I didn't even have to blame the baby.]
Bean: [maybe if I give her some she'll feel responsible for the mess, too, and clean it up for me. Man, this stuff tastes great.]
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Abortion
Forgive the volatile nature of this topic. It has been weighing heavily on my heart.
Tonight I watched a recording of the third presidential debate, wherein the topic of abortion was discussed. Specifically, I wish to address McCain's classification of the Pro-Choice movement as the "Pro-Abortion" movement.
Which I absolutely and in no uncertain terms condemn as ignorant, selfish, arbitrarily inflammatory, and false.
And I agree.
How dare he. How dare he think that there is an entire movement of women out there who have late-term abortions "just because" and use any medical excuse to justify it. So he thinks that the government can make a better call than a woman in counsel with her doctors concerning what level of risk she can take before aborting a pregnancy that could kill or maim her.
The LDS church's statement concerning abortion:
I don't agree with abortions of convenience. I don't agree that such a thing should be condoned, supported, or encouraged. But where is the line? I've seen the example of the 16 year old girl who gets pregnant, but has an abusive father who would beat her to death if he found out. This is the example that has been given to keep medical facilities from informing parents of an abortion performed for a minor. In such a case, is the health of the mother as much in jeopardy as from toxemia or other pregnancy induced disease? What about women with thrombophilia, for whom a full term delivery could be fatal but causes little other ante-partum complications?
I understand that McCain is talking about late-term abortion. He's talking about termination of a pregnancy after 20 weeks gestation, though 23 weeks is the earliest age at which resuscitation will be attempted. Circumstances such as these are more rare than your garden variety abortion. According to wikipedia (don't hash my buns, I'm doing some lazy citing at 11pm) 1.4% of abortions occur after 20 weeks gestation. 1.4%. By then you've heard a heart beat, you've seen an ultrasound photo, you've felt your baby kicking for a month, and the hormones hammering through your veins are doing everything they can to help you start bonding with that child NOW or as soon as possible after birth.
Here are the stated reasons for later abortions according to a survey: link.
I can understand how a few of them might seem a little weak. Most of them are preventable. Some are a matter of ignorance. Some of those reasons might be lies. But how many of us understand that 1.4% of abortions also means .06% (someone, check my math) of all pregnancies end in late term abortion. Yes, each pregnancy counts, but it's not like a raging epidemic of baby-hating women murdering their viable fetuses is consuming this nation.
And yet, how many lives of women are we willing to sacrifice in the mean time, by banning them altogether until we get our legal terms straight? If one Soldier's death in Iraq is too many, then isn't one woman's preventable death too many? Here's a news flash: if the mother dies, so does the baby unless it is successfully delivered immediately. There will always be someone around using loopholes to their advantage. That is unavoidable. What I can't stand is this man thinking that we have to cement laws around those women who just don't seem to have the morals or backbone to make that decision without the Federal government's help.
Here's a heartbreaking story for you:
Flotsam.
She spent a lot of time and money trying to get pregnant, and finally conceived twins. Her little boy, Twin A and thus the one closer to the outside world, passed away in utero. He was dead for almost 4 weeks before the risk of carrying him longer could have killed his sister and mother. Technically, she had to abort her pregnancy to save herself and attempt to save her other baby, Simone. She makes a valid point: where do you draw the line between the health of the mother and the life of the mother? There are some very clear and hard lines in medicine but laws can't even come close to appropriately regulating what judgment calls must be made in the event of late-term complications.
Some might say that this case was a heart breaking exception. And you'd be right. But this is an exception we must take into consideration when penning laws declaring all late-term abortions to be cruel, unnecessary, abominable, and illegal.
I hear the ones out there who are saying "it wasn't an abortion, since it was an early delivery intended to save the life of the baby." Here's a definition for you --
And remember that she would have had to make the same decision regardless of how mature Simone had been at the time crisis set in. Had the infection spread just two weeks earlier, she wouldn't have been viable and it would have been an abortion indeed, merely to spare the life and health of one heart-broken mother. If a ban on late term abortion goes through, that heart-broken mother would have been dead as well, and three lives lost instead of the two.
I consider myself Pro-Choice, in that the decision should ultimately rest with a mother who has received medical counsel and, ideally, kind and wise counsel from clergy. I am not Pro-Abortion.
And I am not voting for John McCain.
And before you do, think about someone else in Christian history who wanted to remove choices from people to save them from themselves. His name was Lucifer.
Tonight I watched a recording of the third presidential debate, wherein the topic of abortion was discussed. Specifically, I wish to address McCain's classification of the Pro-Choice movement as the "Pro-Abortion" movement.
Which I absolutely and in no uncertain terms condemn as ignorant, selfish, arbitrarily inflammatory, and false.
Obama: But what ultimately I believe is that women in consultation with their families, their doctors, their religious advisers, are in the best position to make this decision.
And I agree.
McCain: He's health for the mother. You know, that's been stretched by the pro-abortion movement in America to mean almost anything. That's the extreme pro-abortion position, quote, "health."
How dare he. How dare he think that there is an entire movement of women out there who have late-term abortions "just because" and use any medical excuse to justify it. So he thinks that the government can make a better call than a woman in counsel with her doctors concerning what level of risk she can take before aborting a pregnancy that could kill or maim her.
The LDS church's statement concerning abortion:
Church leaders have said that some exceptional circumstances may justify an abortion, such as when pregnancy is the result of incest or rape, when the life or health of the mother is judged by competent medical authority to be in serious jeopardy, or when the fetus is known by competent medical authority to have severe defects that will not allow the baby to survive beyond birth. But even these circumstances do not automatically justify an abortion.
I don't agree with abortions of convenience. I don't agree that such a thing should be condoned, supported, or encouraged. But where is the line? I've seen the example of the 16 year old girl who gets pregnant, but has an abusive father who would beat her to death if he found out. This is the example that has been given to keep medical facilities from informing parents of an abortion performed for a minor. In such a case, is the health of the mother as much in jeopardy as from toxemia or other pregnancy induced disease? What about women with thrombophilia, for whom a full term delivery could be fatal but causes little other ante-partum complications?
I understand that McCain is talking about late-term abortion. He's talking about termination of a pregnancy after 20 weeks gestation, though 23 weeks is the earliest age at which resuscitation will be attempted. Circumstances such as these are more rare than your garden variety abortion. According to wikipedia (don't hash my buns, I'm doing some lazy citing at 11pm) 1.4% of abortions occur after 20 weeks gestation. 1.4%. By then you've heard a heart beat, you've seen an ultrasound photo, you've felt your baby kicking for a month, and the hormones hammering through your veins are doing everything they can to help you start bonding with that child NOW or as soon as possible after birth.
Here are the stated reasons for later abortions according to a survey: link.
I can understand how a few of them might seem a little weak. Most of them are preventable. Some are a matter of ignorance. Some of those reasons might be lies. But how many of us understand that 1.4% of abortions also means .06% (someone, check my math) of all pregnancies end in late term abortion. Yes, each pregnancy counts, but it's not like a raging epidemic of baby-hating women murdering their viable fetuses is consuming this nation.
And yet, how many lives of women are we willing to sacrifice in the mean time, by banning them altogether until we get our legal terms straight? If one Soldier's death in Iraq is too many, then isn't one woman's preventable death too many? Here's a news flash: if the mother dies, so does the baby unless it is successfully delivered immediately. There will always be someone around using loopholes to their advantage. That is unavoidable. What I can't stand is this man thinking that we have to cement laws around those women who just don't seem to have the morals or backbone to make that decision without the Federal government's help.
Here's a heartbreaking story for you:
Flotsam.
She spent a lot of time and money trying to get pregnant, and finally conceived twins. Her little boy, Twin A and thus the one closer to the outside world, passed away in utero. He was dead for almost 4 weeks before the risk of carrying him longer could have killed his sister and mother. Technically, she had to abort her pregnancy to save herself and attempt to save her other baby, Simone. She makes a valid point: where do you draw the line between the health of the mother and the life of the mother? There are some very clear and hard lines in medicine but laws can't even come close to appropriately regulating what judgment calls must be made in the event of late-term complications.
Some might say that this case was a heart breaking exception. And you'd be right. But this is an exception we must take into consideration when penning laws declaring all late-term abortions to be cruel, unnecessary, abominable, and illegal.
I hear the ones out there who are saying "it wasn't an abortion, since it was an early delivery intended to save the life of the baby." Here's a definition for you --
abortion: Termination of pregnancy and expulsion of an embryo or of a fetus that is incapable of survival.
And remember that she would have had to make the same decision regardless of how mature Simone had been at the time crisis set in. Had the infection spread just two weeks earlier, she wouldn't have been viable and it would have been an abortion indeed, merely to spare the life and health of one heart-broken mother. If a ban on late term abortion goes through, that heart-broken mother would have been dead as well, and three lives lost instead of the two.
I consider myself Pro-Choice, in that the decision should ultimately rest with a mother who has received medical counsel and, ideally, kind and wise counsel from clergy. I am not Pro-Abortion.
And I am not voting for John McCain.
And before you do, think about someone else in Christian history who wanted to remove choices from people to save them from themselves. His name was Lucifer.
Mess of the morning
This morning's mess was about 1/4 cup of finely shredded cheese that had been worked into the carpet by small and curious hands, though thank goodness none of it had yet been ground into the pile.
My first thought was "if I vacuum this, would that melt the cheese?" I thought about carpet pizza, and carpet alfredo, and carp'n'cheese (like mac'n'cheese) and started to run to get my vacuum to try it out but then realized that I didn't want to spend my morning using goo-gone on the carpet. I need to do my dishes instead. And I wasn't sure what melted cheese would do to my vacuum. I had visions of the canister filling with silk-fine threads of spun, Mexican-blend goodness, but then thought of spending my afternoon with a putty knife and the canister filter. I need to fold laundry instead.
-sigh- No cheese adventures for me. At least, not until dinner time.
I ended up using a hand broom for the worst of it and then used the vacuum hose on the rest. No silk-cheese, no carp'n'cheese.
Messes are so much more fun to read about than clean.
Now, I must go put "chee-bane-bane" (chitty chitty bang bang) into the dvd player for my Pebbles Au Gratin, aka The Queso Perp.
My first thought was "if I vacuum this, would that melt the cheese?" I thought about carpet pizza, and carpet alfredo, and carp'n'cheese (like mac'n'cheese) and started to run to get my vacuum to try it out but then realized that I didn't want to spend my morning using goo-gone on the carpet. I need to do my dishes instead. And I wasn't sure what melted cheese would do to my vacuum. I had visions of the canister filling with silk-fine threads of spun, Mexican-blend goodness, but then thought of spending my afternoon with a putty knife and the canister filter. I need to fold laundry instead.
-sigh- No cheese adventures for me. At least, not until dinner time.
I ended up using a hand broom for the worst of it and then used the vacuum hose on the rest. No silk-cheese, no carp'n'cheese.
Messes are so much more fun to read about than clean.
Now, I must go put "chee-bane-bane" (chitty chitty bang bang) into the dvd player for my Pebbles Au Gratin, aka The Queso Perp.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Kisses for Crusty Cupcakes
Friend C (aka, Crusty Cupcakes) posted the need for some love. Here are some kisses, because I know you love them!
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
The Office Boogie
Pebbles loves to do a little dance whenever The Office theme song comes on. I tried several times to get her to do it while the music was playing but she had a lot of siblings who were trying to help as well.
I encourage such funky dances. It's good for the soul.
I encourage such funky dances. It's good for the soul.
Testing Picasa feature
Just trying out some Picasa stuff. I havn't tweaked these pics so don't mind them if they're blurry.
Humming
Have you ever noticed that if you practice your musical instrument around other people that, if you stumble a bit, the other people have a tendency to "helpfully" hum the correct tune?
That drives me nuts.
I know how the song goes in my head. My fingers just need to do some catching up.
That drives me nuts.
I know how the song goes in my head. My fingers just need to do some catching up.
Columbus Day
Columbus Day is one of my favorite holidays now. The kids still have to go to school, but Man gets to stay home. Somehow, it just seems like more of a vacation that way.
I woke up at my usual time (about 3 snoozes after my alarm goes off) to take the kids to school and then cleaned the house and ran to the grocery store before some friends came over for games and snacks. I'm always surprised at how much food Soldiers can put away. Four bags of chips, a double batch of brownies, and two gallons of Kool-Aid all disappeared over just a couple of hours, not to mention a dinner of chipotle-style burritos.
We played Munchkin and The Great Dalmuti. We seriously need to get a Great Dalmuti hat, preferably one with fake fruit and many ribbons, or perhaps a turban made of tinsel. Yellow tinsel. Another of our favorite party games is Wise and Otherwise.
I have two requests from you, my dear readers.
1) What are your favorite party games? It doesn't have to be a board game.
2) What foods do you long for on Thanksgiving Day? (this should be easy for the Canadians, as Canadian Thanksgiving is still weighing on the belly at this point.)
I woke up at my usual time (about 3 snoozes after my alarm goes off) to take the kids to school and then cleaned the house and ran to the grocery store before some friends came over for games and snacks. I'm always surprised at how much food Soldiers can put away. Four bags of chips, a double batch of brownies, and two gallons of Kool-Aid all disappeared over just a couple of hours, not to mention a dinner of chipotle-style burritos.
We played Munchkin and The Great Dalmuti. We seriously need to get a Great Dalmuti hat, preferably one with fake fruit and many ribbons, or perhaps a turban made of tinsel. Yellow tinsel. Another of our favorite party games is Wise and Otherwise.
I have two requests from you, my dear readers.
1) What are your favorite party games? It doesn't have to be a board game.
2) What foods do you long for on Thanksgiving Day? (this should be easy for the Canadians, as Canadian Thanksgiving is still weighing on the belly at this point.)
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Have you ever...
Imagine this:
You're sitting on your bed, preparing to put your shoes on. Both of your socks are on, one leg is crossed in preparation to receive a shoe, so you bend down, pick up your shoe, straighten up, and realize you've got the wrong shoe. You decide whether to cross your other leg and just use the shoe you have or bend down and get the other shoe, and finally both shoes are placed.
When suddenly you realize you don't have your pants on.
Please say I'm not the only one who has done this.
You're sitting on your bed, preparing to put your shoes on. Both of your socks are on, one leg is crossed in preparation to receive a shoe, so you bend down, pick up your shoe, straighten up, and realize you've got the wrong shoe. You decide whether to cross your other leg and just use the shoe you have or bend down and get the other shoe, and finally both shoes are placed.
When suddenly you realize you don't have your pants on.
Please say I'm not the only one who has done this.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Brownies. Is there anything they can't do?
Today I decided to take Man some lunch on post. He isn't allowed to brown bag it (in more words than that, but that's what it comes down to) so the two little girls and I headed up there to spend a few minutes with him in the chow hall.
This morning I was quite torn about what I should take. Should I save my sanity and keep it simple? Should I just whip up some dinner for tomorrow night and take him a nice meal? Should I grab him some Burger King? The whole point was to save money and get some quality time, so Option A looked the most attractive.
But then I started to think about the flour and cocoa powder I got yesterday. About an hour before I headed up to post, I started some brownie mix. Ambitious much? Not me.
I halved the recipe and was just opening the box of cocoa powder when Pebbles decided to come over and help. The flour, sugar, baking powder and salt were all in by this point but I thought, cool -- I like the idea of raising little chefs who will some day take over my kitchen and cook me dinner every night. Come, little spawn, and I will teach you. Mwahaha.
Unfortunately, her vision of the brownies and mine did not see eye to eye and I caught her after three shakes of onion powder went into my heaping pile of future-delectable-ness. I took a moment to size up my as yet uncompleted mix, wondering if there was enough of everything else to hide the onion powder. My lips pursed, Pebbles watched me with amusement, Freida started to climb my leg, the clock ticked, and I decided to just go for it.
The mix got stirred up and I was just about to start cracking eggs when I realized that I had no vanilla. Oh, well, simple lunch it is, and a quick trip to the store for vanilla afterward.
This evening I made up a batch of brownies. No onion was detectable in the batter so I figured I was safe.
After they were done cooking, I took one mouth watering bite, savoring the rich texture and dark flavor, only to find that I halved everything in the recipe but the salt.
It seems that Pebbles and I did have a similar vision: we both considered this to be more of a savory dish. I look forward to many a semi-flop and many a swooning success with my sweet chefette by my side. At least we have sense of humor.
Man swears he could taste something wrong with the brownies above and beyond too much salt.
So, do I make the other half of the mix sans salt, stir it in, and hope the onion drowns further? Or should I just sack the whole thing and start over? Money is tight, folks, and cocoa powder is not cheap.
I'd never been in an Air Force dining hall before today. It looks like a Denny's except you go get your food from a cafeteria line and there are about three restaurant's worth of seating in several large rooms. I had a vision of long, low, unfinished wood tables and benches in a dimly-lit dining fly. Man informed me that that was the basic training version. It was odd to be in a room full of uniforms that are all about the same color (except the Marines, but I didn't see any there) and there I was, in a bright teal shirt and khaki's. The kids and I stood out, to say the least.
This morning I was quite torn about what I should take. Should I save my sanity and keep it simple? Should I just whip up some dinner for tomorrow night and take him a nice meal? Should I grab him some Burger King? The whole point was to save money and get some quality time, so Option A looked the most attractive.
But then I started to think about the flour and cocoa powder I got yesterday. About an hour before I headed up to post, I started some brownie mix. Ambitious much? Not me.
I halved the recipe and was just opening the box of cocoa powder when Pebbles decided to come over and help. The flour, sugar, baking powder and salt were all in by this point but I thought, cool -- I like the idea of raising little chefs who will some day take over my kitchen and cook me dinner every night. Come, little spawn, and I will teach you. Mwahaha.
Unfortunately, her vision of the brownies and mine did not see eye to eye and I caught her after three shakes of onion powder went into my heaping pile of future-delectable-ness. I took a moment to size up my as yet uncompleted mix, wondering if there was enough of everything else to hide the onion powder. My lips pursed, Pebbles watched me with amusement, Freida started to climb my leg, the clock ticked, and I decided to just go for it.
The mix got stirred up and I was just about to start cracking eggs when I realized that I had no vanilla. Oh, well, simple lunch it is, and a quick trip to the store for vanilla afterward.
This evening I made up a batch of brownies. No onion was detectable in the batter so I figured I was safe.
After they were done cooking, I took one mouth watering bite, savoring the rich texture and dark flavor, only to find that I halved everything in the recipe but the salt.
It seems that Pebbles and I did have a similar vision: we both considered this to be more of a savory dish. I look forward to many a semi-flop and many a swooning success with my sweet chefette by my side. At least we have sense of humor.
Man swears he could taste something wrong with the brownies above and beyond too much salt.
So, do I make the other half of the mix sans salt, stir it in, and hope the onion drowns further? Or should I just sack the whole thing and start over? Money is tight, folks, and cocoa powder is not cheap.
I'd never been in an Air Force dining hall before today. It looks like a Denny's except you go get your food from a cafeteria line and there are about three restaurant's worth of seating in several large rooms. I had a vision of long, low, unfinished wood tables and benches in a dimly-lit dining fly. Man informed me that that was the basic training version. It was odd to be in a room full of uniforms that are all about the same color (except the Marines, but I didn't see any there) and there I was, in a bright teal shirt and khaki's. The kids and I stood out, to say the least.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Things I've done, thanks to Facebook
I have --
Been hit with more pillows in more shapes and sizes that I've dared ever imagine.
Been invited to charity events where people freely give away millions of dollars.
Been invited to be a ninja, pirate, vampire, and wolf.
Been informed that someone has purchased me.
Been nominated as the nicest person in the world.
Been compared to millions of people based on my parenting style, favorite dates, and various levels of normalcy.
Displayed a virtual bookshelf for everyone to peruse my reading habits.
Decorated an entire house including a dorm room, using many thousands of dollars.
Arranged the decoration of a garden, graveyard, aquarium, and a solar system.
Subject to someone's use of the force on me.
Been given pills, bling, plants, christmas presents, a heart-shaped balloon, a love smack, pets of all shapes, sizes, colors, and levels of tolerability, and more invites to social activities than I ever knew I was popular enough to receive. Too bad these things happen outside of my one hour driving radius. Because there is NOTHING within an hour of this city.
Been constantly updated on every friend's status because no minutae is too minute. I can always count on my brother to have entertaining statuses. No pressure, Romeo.
"R is watching the debate and is happy that the candidates weren't able to prepare for the questions."
"R is the pretty prince of parties. Sadly, this is only true in his head.R is going to the Renfest tomorrow. He gets to hang out with crazy people and steal their souls with his digital camera.R is trying to broker a deal with the voices in his head. It is not going well.
more animals
more animals
Been hit with more pillows in more shapes and sizes that I've dared ever imagine.
Been invited to charity events where people freely give away millions of dollars.
Been invited to be a ninja, pirate, vampire, and wolf.
Been informed that someone has purchased me.
Been nominated as the nicest person in the world.
Been compared to millions of people based on my parenting style, favorite dates, and various levels of normalcy.
Displayed a virtual bookshelf for everyone to peruse my reading habits.
Decorated an entire house including a dorm room, using many thousands of dollars.
Arranged the decoration of a garden, graveyard, aquarium, and a solar system.
Subject to someone's use of the force on me.
Been given pills, bling, plants, christmas presents, a heart-shaped balloon, a love smack, pets of all shapes, sizes, colors, and levels of tolerability, and more invites to social activities than I ever knew I was popular enough to receive. Too bad these things happen outside of my one hour driving radius. Because there is NOTHING within an hour of this city.
Been constantly updated on every friend's status because no minutae is too minute. I can always count on my brother to have entertaining statuses. No pressure, Romeo.
"R is watching the debate and is happy that the candidates weren't able to prepare for the questions."
"R is the pretty prince of parties. Sadly, this is only true in his head.R is going to the Renfest tomorrow. He gets to hang out with crazy people and steal their souls with his digital camera.R is trying to broker a deal with the voices in his head. It is not going well.
more animals
more animals
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Who's playing the piano?
Whenever you hear a piano playing in real life, do you just have to see who's playing it? Do you just have to know who's making either that sublime melody or that dratted racket?
As a youth in the Midwest, it was very common for there to be several young piano players of varying levels of proficiency and interest at church. Male and female, child or adolescent, and without fail there would be one or two who would sneak off at a church dance to be alone with a piano for a while. I've done it myself. Whenever I played, little heads would sneak a peek into the room with the music. Some would stay and listen. Others would dash off if they saw me noticing them. It was a way to make friends, shed some of the anxiety of the teenage social scene, get some practice in on a good piano (my piano at home was free), and be alone in a half-lit room with dots on a page and the ol' ivories.
Unfortunately, I was somewhat middling on whether my piano playing was going to be melodious or malodorous. I remember specifically struggling with one particular hymn ("If You Could Hie to Kolob"), leaving the piano in disgust, only to hear someone bang it out with gusto and efficiency mere seconds later. Yes, you sure showed me.
I would play for Young Women's but often had to stop in the middle of a song after nervousness made me lose my place, and I would flee to the bathroom in shame. I would play for Mutual when the better piano players were unavailable or unwilling. The same flight would occur there.
At home, my piano (which I called the white elephant, given that it was an enormous upright that had been painted white) was very loud, didn't keep its tuning very well, and some of the keys would hit more than one string at the same time. It was a pain to dust, an eyesore, and someone once lifted the lid and put a cat in there just to see what would happen. Fur is what happened, folks, which piano strings don't like so well. My family didn't much like hearing me practice. And I don't blame them. It would have been better to have a keyboard and earphones but hey, the White Elephant was free.
I've played once or twice over the years when the Relief Society pianist was gone. Mostly I fly under the "does anyone here play the piano?" question with a grunt and averted eyes. I know just enough to say "yes, but not well. just barely. sure, if you want to sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star as the opening hymn." Haha. You go, Annie. Make those jokes-under-pressure that you're famous for. I've found that miso salad dressing tastes better with feet than ketchup. Less salt.
Nowadays, I play piano for the kids at church. This means that I have to practice. I told Man last night that I'm a phenomenon -- I get worse as I practice. And it's true. I can sit down and play fairly well for about five minutes and then totally butcher songs that I thought I was finally getting good at. He says that it "must be the way you're practicing." Uh-huh. He's probably right. But here's the deal: I don't WANT to be a really good piano player. I don't want to take time out of my day and practice. Here are some reasons:
1) It hurts my back. I have about 15 minutes before I hunch over with spasmed muscles and I have to stop.
2) I'm not committed enough to the piano to break all my old habits and build up newer, better ones. I play well enough for Family Home Evening and am therefore satisfied.
3) Going through my sheet music to find something to practice besides the same 8 songs needed for the Primary presentation in two weeks, I've come across songs from those teenage days in Young Women's that I ran from the room in tears over. That doesn't make me feel good. Those songs make me ill, playing them makes me want to cry, and I remember those horrible years in a startling clarity that makes me want to quit the calling immediately.
I'm not going to quit the calling. I'm an adult now. I don't run from the room. I merely continue to torture all present with my ineptitude as I try, try, and try again to pick up the song where my shaking hands lost it. Just as I didn't give up The Spaghetti Factory because that's where I had a horrible date. Just as I'm willing to live in CO again some day despite spending some of the darkest, most depression-rent years of my life there. I face things now, address them, work through them, and then move on.
I'm hoping that this is a phase of my life where I'm being given the opportunity to face my spotty history with the piano and move on. Man plays the piano as well but does so by ear. Some of the songs he plays also bring up deeply moving memories: he played this one after we fought, he played that one after I came back from leaving him, he played this one right before he left for basic training, he composed this one and dedicated it to our oldest daughter, this is the one he most closely associates with his deceased father. Music is so meaningful to both of us that we can barely play some songs for each other or anyone else. Love Is Spoken Here is one that we will forever associate with a friend's son who was killed as a very young child who looked achingly like our little blond boy, with glasses and a love of yellow trucks. Man and I sang it at his funeral. Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing is a personal favorite of Man's grandfather and thus one that we keep special.
Isn't it silly how one small calling at church can bring up so many things that need to be worked through, categorized, and either discarded or put away to be kept sacred. Emotional spring cleaning.
I think I'm going to go do some cleaning I can understand a bit better and really clean my van this time. It's starting to look like someone lives in it.
As a youth in the Midwest, it was very common for there to be several young piano players of varying levels of proficiency and interest at church. Male and female, child or adolescent, and without fail there would be one or two who would sneak off at a church dance to be alone with a piano for a while. I've done it myself. Whenever I played, little heads would sneak a peek into the room with the music. Some would stay and listen. Others would dash off if they saw me noticing them. It was a way to make friends, shed some of the anxiety of the teenage social scene, get some practice in on a good piano (my piano at home was free), and be alone in a half-lit room with dots on a page and the ol' ivories.
Unfortunately, I was somewhat middling on whether my piano playing was going to be melodious or malodorous. I remember specifically struggling with one particular hymn ("If You Could Hie to Kolob"), leaving the piano in disgust, only to hear someone bang it out with gusto and efficiency mere seconds later. Yes, you sure showed me.
I would play for Young Women's but often had to stop in the middle of a song after nervousness made me lose my place, and I would flee to the bathroom in shame. I would play for Mutual when the better piano players were unavailable or unwilling. The same flight would occur there.
At home, my piano (which I called the white elephant, given that it was an enormous upright that had been painted white) was very loud, didn't keep its tuning very well, and some of the keys would hit more than one string at the same time. It was a pain to dust, an eyesore, and someone once lifted the lid and put a cat in there just to see what would happen. Fur is what happened, folks, which piano strings don't like so well. My family didn't much like hearing me practice. And I don't blame them. It would have been better to have a keyboard and earphones but hey, the White Elephant was free.
I've played once or twice over the years when the Relief Society pianist was gone. Mostly I fly under the "does anyone here play the piano?" question with a grunt and averted eyes. I know just enough to say "yes, but not well. just barely. sure, if you want to sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star as the opening hymn." Haha. You go, Annie. Make those jokes-under-pressure that you're famous for. I've found that miso salad dressing tastes better with feet than ketchup. Less salt.
Nowadays, I play piano for the kids at church. This means that I have to practice. I told Man last night that I'm a phenomenon -- I get worse as I practice. And it's true. I can sit down and play fairly well for about five minutes and then totally butcher songs that I thought I was finally getting good at. He says that it "must be the way you're practicing." Uh-huh. He's probably right. But here's the deal: I don't WANT to be a really good piano player. I don't want to take time out of my day and practice. Here are some reasons:
1) It hurts my back. I have about 15 minutes before I hunch over with spasmed muscles and I have to stop.
2) I'm not committed enough to the piano to break all my old habits and build up newer, better ones. I play well enough for Family Home Evening and am therefore satisfied.
3) Going through my sheet music to find something to practice besides the same 8 songs needed for the Primary presentation in two weeks, I've come across songs from those teenage days in Young Women's that I ran from the room in tears over. That doesn't make me feel good. Those songs make me ill, playing them makes me want to cry, and I remember those horrible years in a startling clarity that makes me want to quit the calling immediately.
I'm not going to quit the calling. I'm an adult now. I don't run from the room. I merely continue to torture all present with my ineptitude as I try, try, and try again to pick up the song where my shaking hands lost it. Just as I didn't give up The Spaghetti Factory because that's where I had a horrible date. Just as I'm willing to live in CO again some day despite spending some of the darkest, most depression-rent years of my life there. I face things now, address them, work through them, and then move on.
I'm hoping that this is a phase of my life where I'm being given the opportunity to face my spotty history with the piano and move on. Man plays the piano as well but does so by ear. Some of the songs he plays also bring up deeply moving memories: he played this one after we fought, he played that one after I came back from leaving him, he played this one right before he left for basic training, he composed this one and dedicated it to our oldest daughter, this is the one he most closely associates with his deceased father. Music is so meaningful to both of us that we can barely play some songs for each other or anyone else. Love Is Spoken Here is one that we will forever associate with a friend's son who was killed as a very young child who looked achingly like our little blond boy, with glasses and a love of yellow trucks. Man and I sang it at his funeral. Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing is a personal favorite of Man's grandfather and thus one that we keep special.
Isn't it silly how one small calling at church can bring up so many things that need to be worked through, categorized, and either discarded or put away to be kept sacred. Emotional spring cleaning.
I think I'm going to go do some cleaning I can understand a bit better and really clean my van this time. It's starting to look like someone lives in it.
Goodness. Oh. My.
First of all, my baby sister recently turned 18. It just blows my mind, especially since, when I moved out of my parents house, she was still a kid. Now she's a legal adult and applying for college. Go, Echo!! You can do it!
Next, the first big mess of the day. I set the water to boil and then went to check on something. I came back to the smell of burning chocolate Malt-o-Meal. Pebbles had taken breakfast into her own hands.
I stood there, shaking for a moment, before barking a choked "bed!" at the two year old who brought this to pass.
Then I turned around to see what Bean had done with the last 10 mins of her life: (edited to add: I just realized how awful the preceding sentence sounds. No, it wasn't the last 10 mins of her life but the most recent 10 mins of her life. Gosh. How morbid was that.)
Which wasn't so bad, except that she does this about 10 times a day. Time to email the land lord and ask if we can baby proof.
But how can I stay mad at this face?
I can't.
I can't stay mad at this face either, even after she took her haircut even further. Her bangs are so short now that parts of the hair in front look buzzed.
Next, the first big mess of the day. I set the water to boil and then went to check on something. I came back to the smell of burning chocolate Malt-o-Meal. Pebbles had taken breakfast into her own hands.
I stood there, shaking for a moment, before barking a choked "bed!" at the two year old who brought this to pass.Then I turned around to see what Bean had done with the last 10 mins of her life: (edited to add: I just realized how awful the preceding sentence sounds. No, it wasn't the last 10 mins of her life but the most recent 10 mins of her life. Gosh. How morbid was that.)
Which wasn't so bad, except that she does this about 10 times a day. Time to email the land lord and ask if we can baby proof.But how can I stay mad at this face?
I can't.
I can't stay mad at this face either, even after she took her haircut even further. Her bangs are so short now that parts of the hair in front look buzzed.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Just random
1. I have new respect for ladies who can play the piano for primary or any other sort of chorister and make it look easy. I've been practicing songs and trying all the little tricks for figuring out how to make the music flow along with the metronome that I've picked up over the years but... -sigh- It is nice to have primary music filling the house now, and the kids love to sing along with it. That's been nice.
2. General conference was awesome. Talks that touched me the most: Elder Bednar Saturday afternoon, Elder Uchtdorf Sat morning, Elder Wirthlin Sat afternoon (fantastic talk), Pres Eyring Sun morning... oh, wow. I'm just going to download all the sessions and listen to them while I clean my van tomorrow. It's been a really great weekend. Loved Faith in Every Footstep Sunday afternoon. MoTab hasn't been as irritating lately. I've never been a fan but they're not bad nowadays.
3. I weaned Freida (who we call Bean sometimes) because she bit me hard enough to drip blood the other day, and that's the LAST TIME that will ever happen. The only bummer is that the formula gives her a diaper rash, so we're concentrating on solids to keep her little body full without too much of the fake milk. It's been nice to wear some clothes I got in anticipation of this day, including a very comfy kaftan.
4. Man has been referred to yet another orthopedic surgeon. He sees him in a couple of weeks, so keep your fingers crossed that this one will help. At the very least, we're hoping he'll be willing to take off a bone spur that we think is the real problem. If not, Man may claw it out himself. No, not really, the Army would have cow. Good news is that the results of a bone scan are negative for osteoarthritis. Yay!
5. Way to go, greater Kansas City Area for the announcement of your very own temple!!!! I did a "squeee!!" when I heard that and I'm thrilled to pieces for you.
6. Princess is in some sort of "good reader" club at school, consisting of four kids out of the 17 in her class who are cruising along in the reading department. It's interesting how the culture of comparing people based on their merits starts at such a young age. I know that it's good to offer some incentive for excelling at reading, but how do you do that without making an accomplishment exclusionary? Now they've got the "kids who are good at reading" vs "the kids who are average at reading" and now they're labeled. Now they know what level of talent they have. Now their expectations and the expectations of those who are working with them have been defined. PB's teacher works very hard with each child to help them along at their own pace. Each of these children has their own reading portfolio so Mrs. R can keep track of their strengths, weaknesses, and generally build each individual mind in the ways that it needs to succeed. But I still don't like the club, even if my kid is in it.
7. The Office. I'm an addict. Season 4 is pretty cool. It's isn't as side-splittingly funny but it's still darn engrossing and I'm starting to like Michael Scott more as a person, and Dwight is even more my hero. Dwight is an embodiment of all of the quirks that I, my siblings, and many of my friends in high school used to have (except for the gross assumption of authority. we were all intellect/knowledge snobs, but not authority snobs. and light sabers are still cool no matter how lame episodes 1-3 turned out to be. oh, and I've always disliked guns. I've never shot one, and never intend to.) Am I the only person in America who thinks that Jim is a bit of a jerk? I hope I don't lose friends for saying that.
8. It's raining. I love it.
9. I'm a knitting coward but I may just have to buckle down and get over it for the sake of this pattern at the top. Must. Have. Spidey. Blanky.
10. I have some ideas for making a scrap book for Princess, since that's the next project the Daisy's will be working on. I'm thinking of just using a small photo album and then getting index cards of the right size for her to customize. Any further ideas? I'm hoping to start pretty small on this so we can set the project up for success. Plenty of time for the classy, gorgeous stuff friend K has accomplished (friend K, I covet your scrap books. I don't know if I've ever told you that.) after we master the basics. Either index cards, or some size that's exceptionally easy to cut out of those square pieces of scrapbooking paper. I'll have to check WallyWorld and Michael's out tomorrow because darn it, I have a coupon that I really want to use. As dumb as that sounds.
Well, congrats on reading to the end. This got a lot longer than I thought it would but I've been waiting for Bean to fall asleep this whole time. Until my next infrequent update, be well and good, my fair readers.
2. General conference was awesome. Talks that touched me the most: Elder Bednar Saturday afternoon, Elder Uchtdorf Sat morning, Elder Wirthlin Sat afternoon (fantastic talk), Pres Eyring Sun morning... oh, wow. I'm just going to download all the sessions and listen to them while I clean my van tomorrow. It's been a really great weekend. Loved Faith in Every Footstep Sunday afternoon. MoTab hasn't been as irritating lately. I've never been a fan but they're not bad nowadays.
3. I weaned Freida (who we call Bean sometimes) because she bit me hard enough to drip blood the other day, and that's the LAST TIME that will ever happen. The only bummer is that the formula gives her a diaper rash, so we're concentrating on solids to keep her little body full without too much of the fake milk. It's been nice to wear some clothes I got in anticipation of this day, including a very comfy kaftan.
4. Man has been referred to yet another orthopedic surgeon. He sees him in a couple of weeks, so keep your fingers crossed that this one will help. At the very least, we're hoping he'll be willing to take off a bone spur that we think is the real problem. If not, Man may claw it out himself. No, not really, the Army would have cow. Good news is that the results of a bone scan are negative for osteoarthritis. Yay!
5. Way to go, greater Kansas City Area for the announcement of your very own temple!!!! I did a "squeee!!" when I heard that and I'm thrilled to pieces for you.
6. Princess is in some sort of "good reader" club at school, consisting of four kids out of the 17 in her class who are cruising along in the reading department. It's interesting how the culture of comparing people based on their merits starts at such a young age. I know that it's good to offer some incentive for excelling at reading, but how do you do that without making an accomplishment exclusionary? Now they've got the "kids who are good at reading" vs "the kids who are average at reading" and now they're labeled. Now they know what level of talent they have. Now their expectations and the expectations of those who are working with them have been defined. PB's teacher works very hard with each child to help them along at their own pace. Each of these children has their own reading portfolio so Mrs. R can keep track of their strengths, weaknesses, and generally build each individual mind in the ways that it needs to succeed. But I still don't like the club, even if my kid is in it.
7. The Office. I'm an addict. Season 4 is pretty cool. It's isn't as side-splittingly funny but it's still darn engrossing and I'm starting to like Michael Scott more as a person, and Dwight is even more my hero. Dwight is an embodiment of all of the quirks that I, my siblings, and many of my friends in high school used to have (except for the gross assumption of authority. we were all intellect/knowledge snobs, but not authority snobs. and light sabers are still cool no matter how lame episodes 1-3 turned out to be. oh, and I've always disliked guns. I've never shot one, and never intend to.) Am I the only person in America who thinks that Jim is a bit of a jerk? I hope I don't lose friends for saying that.
8. It's raining. I love it.
9. I'm a knitting coward but I may just have to buckle down and get over it for the sake of this pattern at the top. Must. Have. Spidey. Blanky.
10. I have some ideas for making a scrap book for Princess, since that's the next project the Daisy's will be working on. I'm thinking of just using a small photo album and then getting index cards of the right size for her to customize. Any further ideas? I'm hoping to start pretty small on this so we can set the project up for success. Plenty of time for the classy, gorgeous stuff friend K has accomplished (friend K, I covet your scrap books. I don't know if I've ever told you that.) after we master the basics. Either index cards, or some size that's exceptionally easy to cut out of those square pieces of scrapbooking paper. I'll have to check WallyWorld and Michael's out tomorrow because darn it, I have a coupon that I really want to use. As dumb as that sounds.
Well, congrats on reading to the end. This got a lot longer than I thought it would but I've been waiting for Bean to fall asleep this whole time. Until my next infrequent update, be well and good, my fair readers.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Bailout
I took down the bailout post because the math was way off.
$700,000,000,000 divided by 200,000,000 people = $3500 per person, as opposed to the scenario which used a projected $85,000,000,000 which divides into $425 per person. Someone didn't use the right decimals and I didn't check this simple math before posting.
But, yes, if I had $425,000 I'd certainly put it to good use. Honest. :)
If each person were to get $425,000, it'd be a total of 85,000,000,000,000 or 85 trillion. Which is more like the numbers used for the national deficit nowadays.
$700,000,000,000 divided by 200,000,000 people = $3500 per person, as opposed to the scenario which used a projected $85,000,000,000 which divides into $425 per person. Someone didn't use the right decimals and I didn't check this simple math before posting.
But, yes, if I had $425,000 I'd certainly put it to good use. Honest. :)
If each person were to get $425,000, it'd be a total of 85,000,000,000,000 or 85 trillion. Which is more like the numbers used for the national deficit nowadays.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Soccer mom
A lot of people have called me a soccer mom in the past few years. I recall looking up the definition once and didn't think it applied to me. Last night, I began to reconsider.
From wikipedia:
Let's break it down.
1 - Middle class -- Yes, please. Military income is not extremely comfortable but it sure beats a student's income... I mean, outgo-and-never-see-again.
2 - Suburban -- Ok, folks, have you actually seen the movie "The Burbs"? Does that look like a happy place? Didn't think so. No 'burbs for me, thanks.
3 - spends a significant amount of her time transporting her school-age children to activities such as soccer practice and music lessons -- This one drew me up short. I take them to and from school, we take them to and from weekend activities to "go have some fun", and last night I took Princess to her first Daisy Girl Scout activity. I stayed with her that first time to scope the place out but the result of a 6pm meeting was a frantic dinner (thank goodness for slow cookers), frantic bedtime, and my dishes are still piled in the sink. The thought of each of the kids having something like this, perhaps overlapping as well, made me weak in the knees.
By the way, does anyone want to buy some nuts 'n' stuff? It's for a good cause.
4 - White -- Most definitely. Except I'm getting a lot of freckles now. So, white with potentially cancerous and permanent brown blotches. -- You know... white sounds better. I'll stick with white
5 - Married -- Yep, and most happily.
6 - School aged children -- Yes, and I'm even considering putting Pebbles into early head start. She's so busy and that little mind is always trying to think of something to manipulate. She can count to 14, say her ABC's, and she's teaching herself kung fu. (but of course the little stinker wouldn't let me take a video of her kung fu, since revealing her skills would violate the kung fu code.)
7 - busy or overburdened -- I know that I bring a lot of it on myself. A personal flaw that I'm working to remedy. I told a friend the other day that I'm a perfectionist. She said she had no idea. I thought crap, I'm not doing it right. How could I be a better perfectionist? Wait!! NOOOO!!!!
8 - driving a minivan -- Um, ok, this is totally me. :sigh: I need to clean ol Hog'n'Bus out.
9 - putting the interests of her family, and most importantly her children, ahead of her own. -- You know, to a certain extent, this isn't as bad a thing as some people make it out to be. Helping Princess with homework is far more important than making sure I have nothing in Google Reader waiting for me. Having dinner on the table is more important than watching another episode of The Office. Besides that, throwing dinner in the slow cooker (my bestest dinner buddy of late) is ridiculously easy. I do put their interests ahead of mine, but not to the exclusion of mine. Balance is tricky but it really does make my life easier.
Am I a soccer mom? I guess I might be.
From wikipedia:
a middle-class suburban woman who spends a significant amount of her time transporting her school-age children to activities such as soccer practice and music lessons....
The phrase soccer mom generally refers to a white, married middle class woman who lives in the suburbs and has school age children.[3] She is sometimes portrayed in the media as busy or overburdened and driving a minivan.[3][4] She is also portrayed as putting the interests of her family, and most importantly her children, ahead of her own.
Let's break it down.
1 - Middle class -- Yes, please. Military income is not extremely comfortable but it sure beats a student's income... I mean, outgo-and-never-see-again.
2 - Suburban -- Ok, folks, have you actually seen the movie "The Burbs"? Does that look like a happy place? Didn't think so. No 'burbs for me, thanks.
3 - spends a significant amount of her time transporting her school-age children to activities such as soccer practice and music lessons -- This one drew me up short. I take them to and from school, we take them to and from weekend activities to "go have some fun", and last night I took Princess to her first Daisy Girl Scout activity. I stayed with her that first time to scope the place out but the result of a 6pm meeting was a frantic dinner (thank goodness for slow cookers), frantic bedtime, and my dishes are still piled in the sink. The thought of each of the kids having something like this, perhaps overlapping as well, made me weak in the knees.
By the way, does anyone want to buy some nuts 'n' stuff? It's for a good cause.
4 - White -- Most definitely. Except I'm getting a lot of freckles now. So, white with potentially cancerous and permanent brown blotches. -- You know... white sounds better. I'll stick with white
5 - Married -- Yep, and most happily.
6 - School aged children -- Yes, and I'm even considering putting Pebbles into early head start. She's so busy and that little mind is always trying to think of something to manipulate. She can count to 14, say her ABC's, and she's teaching herself kung fu. (but of course the little stinker wouldn't let me take a video of her kung fu, since revealing her skills would violate the kung fu code.)
7 - busy or overburdened -- I know that I bring a lot of it on myself. A personal flaw that I'm working to remedy. I told a friend the other day that I'm a perfectionist. She said she had no idea. I thought crap, I'm not doing it right. How could I be a better perfectionist? Wait!! NOOOO!!!!
8 - driving a minivan -- Um, ok, this is totally me. :sigh: I need to clean ol Hog'n'Bus out.
9 - putting the interests of her family, and most importantly her children, ahead of her own. -- You know, to a certain extent, this isn't as bad a thing as some people make it out to be. Helping Princess with homework is far more important than making sure I have nothing in Google Reader waiting for me. Having dinner on the table is more important than watching another episode of The Office. Besides that, throwing dinner in the slow cooker (my bestest dinner buddy of late) is ridiculously easy. I do put their interests ahead of mine, but not to the exclusion of mine. Balance is tricky but it really does make my life easier.
Am I a soccer mom? I guess I might be.
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