Awww...do I have to?

It's 10pm and I just remembered it's Wednesday and I haven't written. I have a stomach ache and I want to go to bed. I'm too tired to think of anything funny, inspirational or clever, but I was here--I didn't forget. Sometimes you have to know when to call it quits.

The three gifts of Christmas

Rob and I went on a short date to Target last night to grab the last few Christmas items. We ran into a neighbor there and I asked if he was just finishing or just starting his shopping. I expressed condolences when he said he was just starting. But then he told us their family tradition: each year they give their children 3 presents--1 gift the child wants, 1 gift the parents want to give, and 1 gift in their name to a charity of the child's choice.

After our short conversation with him, I felt completely liberated by this new plan. Our shopping is already done for this year, but we are totally going to implement this for next year. I love the simplicity of it and the "pay it forward" idea of letting the kids choose a worthy cause.

I shared this idea with my neighbor and she had heard of these three gifts: something to wear, something to read, and something to play with. Also a sweet and simple list.

Tonight we made reindeer cookies and did a family service project. The house is vacuumed and we've got a cheesecake in the oven for a fancy Christmas Eve dinner with friends tomorrow night.

The only real bummer right now is that I haven't really wrapped any presents. Looks like a couple of late nights for me. I feel better knowing it will be different next year.

Rocky Mountain Christmas High

With all the hubbub of traveling, house guests, end of semester school activities, neighborhood and church parties, Christmas doesn't feel very peaceful or full of wonder (except wondering when things got so out of control?).

Yesterday I realized that one reason it doesn't really feel like Christmas is that I hadn't yet listened to John Denver's "Rocky Mountain Christmas" tape. (Yes, I have a scratchy original audiotape version, and the holidays aren't complete without it.) I dug around to find the one remaining tape player in our house and sung along with John Denver while I sewed on some gift projects.



I love John Denver and I love this album. I love his Christmas with the Muppets album too. "Aspenglow" is one of my favorite holiday songs and it conjures up all kinds of images and memories of family, home, and snow. (All of which I miss SO MUCH today!)
I'd also like to note that my favorite Christmas hymn is I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day--NOT the country-western version, but the kind sung in church, with Virginia Funk playing all the bells on the organ. (a sweet memory of my youth...)
I also love Far Far Away on Judea's Plains and the secular but very fun Winter Wonderland and I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas.
I DO NOT like these Christmas songs:
Silver Bells
The Little Drummer Boy
Please, Daddy, don't get Drunk this Christmas (Sorry John Denver, this one's a total stinker!)

What are your favorites (and not favorites) to sing at Christmas?

P.S. Listen HERE to "Carolina Christmas"--a random family favorite by the Squirrel Nut Zippers.
P.P.S. I just went back and saw that I shared similar thoughts this same week last year. I'll try to be more original *next* December.

I dreamed a dream

I always dreamed of going to Florence one day. I went. And now I'm home. Gosh, it's hard to come back to real life. (The kind of real life with responsibility, meals, cleaning, mundane phone calls, and whining kids.)

In the middle of several amazing days, I had one extraordinarily perfect day in the Cinque Terre of Italy. The picture from last week shows the town of Vernazza, and it is even more lovely in real life. As we hiked out of Vernazza, I turned to look back at the view just as the afternoon church bells began to ring. I stood in the sun, looking out at a breaktakingly beautfiful place, listening to the bells and I started to cry because it was all so perfect and wonderful and it seemed like too much beauty and happiness for one small moment.

It reminded me of a favorite poem by Billy Collins called "This Much I do Remember"--I will always carry in my pocket the small coin of that moment.

My Mantra

Cinque Terre image from leslieitaly.wordpress.com

In exactly one week almost to the very minute, I will be getting off a plane in Italy. No matter how much I have to do this week, no matter what I do get done and what I don't, I'm still getting off that plane in one week and I'll be there all week. This is what I am telling myself over and over again as I make my way down the to-do list.

We'll stay in Turin for a few days for Rob's conference and then spend a night and day in Cinque Terre, then take the train to Florence for 2 more days. This is what's keeping me going.

Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?

*Sigh* I miss my brothers. I never thought I'd say that, but I do.

On Sunday we had neighbor friends over for dinner and got talking about our childhoods. Our friend Steve grew up in a big family in rural California and regaled us with tales of dog attacks, 4-H gun projects, reaching into the septic tank for repairs, and sleeping in the barn with his 5 brothers. We sat around the table laughing so hard at his funny memories and the relish with which he told them. The girls were shocked, fascinated and completely hooked. I told Steve he was a total dirthead and only later realized he probably doesn't know what I meant by that.

Being a dirthead (more on the definition below) is pretty standard behavior for my 5 brothers and they are, in fact, proud of this. Listening to Steve, his wife Kim, and our friend Becky (both women grew up with only brothers), it made me miss mine. The sarcasm, puns, stories, silly accents, and dramatic re-enactments that bring me to laughing tears every time we're together.

For the first time ever, I really thought about what our girls might miss out on by not having brothers. I'm still thinking about what that means.

And just to preserve for posterity and confused friends, I'm including some definitive information.

'Dirthead', 'being dirty', 'being ugly'...these are all phrases from our family lexicon that essentially mean the same thing, but it's really hard to describe it. It's more a feeling and a way of being, than something exact. Basically, ALL of the characters in Napoleon Dynamite are dirty and ugly in some way. I appealed to my brothers for a definition, and got this response from John:

"It is difficult to give a precise definition of the term dirthead and is therefore generally more productive to illustrate typical actions of a dirthead. These include, but are by no means limited to:
Drinking "almost" all of the milk in the carton so you don't have to throw it away

-Any excessive pelvic gyrations while dancing (to the extent that ANY pelvic gyrations aren't excessive)

-Eating stuff off the ground or eating peoples' leftovers that you don't know

-Forwarding most mass e-mails is common dirtheadery

-Any shameful laughing that is "breathy" or results in the dirty smoker's cough

-Speaking in hood slang as a white person "I'm down wit lunch yo, cuz I gotta ax u somem'."

-Eating ribs for breakfast

-Any feigned interest in a product you are sampling at the grocery store

-Shimmying

-Eavesdropping on conversations while feigning to shop, work, or exercise

-Pretending to be asleep to get out of chores

-Using an olfactory "sniff test" to determine the healthiness or cleanliness of questionable food or clothing

Are you a dirthead too?

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever

Against my better judgment, I responded to the frantic call for help to make *a few* costumes for our stake Nativity festival. Suddenly I had committed to make 10 of them. So I, in turn, made a frantic plea for help on Sunday. Three women came over to cut and sew with me on Tuesday and several more are coming on Friday night. (Thank goodness for Relief Society sisters!!!) So far, the costumes look awesome and I think the kids are going to have a great time dressing up.

I feel like I've spent A LOT of time at the church lately, having "a lot of churchy opportunities", as Nacho Libre said. Sometimes it feels so exhausting and crazy--I wonder how that busy-ness ties in with the gospel. The girl next to me at the dinner had a book of quotes by President Hinckley and I found this one, which immediately spoke to me.

"Cultivate an attitude of happiness. Cultivate a spirit of optimism. Walk with faith, rejoicing in the beauties of nature, in the goodness of those you love, in the testimony which you carry in your heart concerning things divine."
--Gordon B. Hinckley, One Bright Shining Hope

The testimony in my heart concerning things divine. That's why I do what I do. It makes me tired, but it also makes me happy.

My life as a moviestar

Do you ever feel like you're in a movie? Maybe it's the heavy rain we've had for 2 days (remnants of hurricane Ida) that makes the light different and the mood more somber. Maybe it's having the kids home from school (Veteran's Day) that makes things seem unnatural. I just keep having moments today where I feel like I'm in a movie scene, waiting for someone to cue the music.

Scene 1: I slept in and woke to the sound of heavy rain, feeling thankful for a good excuse to skip my morning run. I watched Rob sleeping and listened to the girls playing happily downstairs. I have a good life, I know I do.

Scene 2: Our breakfast scene resembled the one in "Cheaper by the dozen"--LOUD, chaotic, and messy. And then everyone dissipated quickly and I was left alone in the kitchen with a sink full of dishes. I didn't even mind because it was 5 quiet minutes that I needed to recover.

Scene 3: A friend came over to get help on a baby quilt. We sat and talked and laughed and unstitched and then restitched together. A modern day quilting bee. Just my favorite thing to do on a rainy day.

If I were really cool, I'd select the background music to my scenes and provide links for you. But today the music will just have to live in my head(and in yours). I have to go prepare for my next scene, "Dinner", and I haven't read the script yet.


**When in high school, I was told more than once that I bore a striking resemblance to Andie MacDowell. It was the hair, I know. But I might pick her to play me in a movie.

I'd rather be fat and happy*

photo from piesandbass.wordpress.com

Last week I found overripe bananas on sale for $.10/lb. I bought a dozen and Sarah Jane and I made a ginormous batch of banana bread to share with all the neighbors. My neighbor Jessica, who does not bake, raved about it and asked if I would teach her how to make it. Here was our conversation about what she would need.

J: What do I need?
F: Flour.
J: Okay, I think I have about 1/2 cup left from the same bag I've been using for 2 years. I only use it to bread fish. So I'll get more flour.
F: You also need sugar.
J: I don't use sugar. I just have those little packets for my coffee.
F: Okay, you need real sugar. And butter.
J: Can I use the kind in a tub?
F: No. Do you have a loaf pan?
J: I think....what does it look like?

Anyway, she came over with a new tiny bag of flour and her bananas and we made banana bread. She was so excited and interested and eager to learn and made me feel so good about myself and my vast knowledge of treat baking. As we cooked, she told me how her mom never baked and she grew up eating frozen dinners. I told her that I didn't know about those refrigerator slice & bake cookies until I was in high school. And now our worlds have collided.

I figured since the oven was on, I should make something too, so I made Great Harvest Pumpkin Bread. Jessica raised an eyebrow when I added chocolate chips to the pumpkin bread, then tentatively asked if she could add some to her banana bread. (Yes, by all means, yes!)

It was really fun to share a skill with a friend and I have thought all day about what a different person I would be if I never had flour, sugar or butter in my kitchen. I'm sure I'd be skinnier, but I don't think I'd be as happy. I get a lot of satisfaction and joy from baking, nourishing, sharing, and teaching. (Thanks to my amazing mom for her talents and inspiration in this area.)

**Probably my all-time favorite quote from my mother is, "Would you rather be fat and happy or skinny and neurotic?" NOT to say all skinny people are neurotic, and not to say I wouldn't like to be skinny...but I'm going to choose fat and happy for now, especially with the holiday baking season underway.

Time in a Bottle

I distinctly remember the first time I heard Jim Croce's "Time in a Bottle"-- during an ABC Afterschool Special (remember those?) about drunk driving. I thought it was such a sad and lovely song. It is true that "there never seems to be enough time to do the things that you want to do".

Lately I've been feeling like there's not enough of me for everyone and everything that needs my attention. After a particularly trying day last week, I collapsed into bed in tears about all the things that get left "undone" each day. I told Rob, "I feel like our kids aren't getting what they need from me, but there's no more of me to give!"

He asked if I had felt neglected growing up in a family of 8 children. I didn't. But then I observed that I spend the majority of my time dealing with the needs of my oldest and youngest children, The middle two don't demand as much attention, so they don't get it. I realized that I was one of the demanding types and wouldn't have allowed my parents to neglect me (even if they had wanted to)!

Next I asked a friend who is the 4th of 8 children. "Did you feel lost in the crowd of children? Do you feel like you got enough attention?" She replied, "I didn't even realize personal attention was an option, so I never missed it." I laughed but then I kind of felt like crying.

I don't want to "save every day 'til eternity passes away", I just want to pull out an extra bottle of Time at 4:30 pm when 3 kids are doing homework & practicing piano, the 2-year old is having a meltdown and I'm trying to make dinner. This on the heels of last week's post about using time wisely....still working on ideas for this one. Let me know if you have any.

Living up to Potential

This weekend Maddie got one of those dreaded lectures from her parents about her performance in school. "You're not living up to your potential". I say 'dreaded' because it involved lots of eye rolling and stony silence on her part. Lots of anxiety, planning, and discussion on our part. I mostly say it because I remember really hating this particular lecture from my own parents. I knew I could do better, but I frankly didn't care at times. It was obvious that Maddie felt the same. Now I feel the frustration of a parent who knows their child is smart and competent, but doesn't use their time and resources wisely to accomplish what needs to be done.

Flash forward to this morning. I'm in a funk. Tired, bored, overwhelmed, house is a wreck, I feel fat, etc. Don't want to do the 25 things on my to-do list because they're not things I really care about doing. I want to make cookies and get back in my pajamas and my bed. Rob asked, "Are you okay?" and I responded, "I don't want to do my life today. Can you be me for a day?" Dang, he didn't want to be me.

The obvious comparison has hit me within the last hour. I procrastinate, don't use my time wisely, focus on less important things. "Potential" is a nebulous idea and it's hard to always be focused, dedicated, and consistent about improving yourself or working toward your goals. How would I feel if someone was constantly pointing out all the ways in which I'm 'lacking'--falling short of my potential? (Stony silence from me too.) I think, "I'm doing the best I can, okay?" But honestly, this week isn't my best work. Not by a long shot.

I'm debating whether or not it would motivate me to get a lecture from my parents at this point. It's been so long, I'm not sure I remember how to roll my eyes. Oh wait, I just did it.

**This picture of Maddie is 2.5 yrs. old. She's much more sophisticated now.

Murphy's Law

I clearly remember my dad explaining 'Murphy's Law' to me when I was 9 or 10. I was fascinated by (as Wiki says) "the perceived perversity of the universe".

Today was a perfect case in point. We were scheduled to meet Rob's parents and his sister Susan and her family in the Blue Ridge mountains. We had a full day of apple picking, picnicing, hiking, and browsing planned. And after a full week of lovely fall weather, today was very chilly and rainy. Why, universe, why?

Actually, it turned out to be a pretty fun day, though we were chilled and soggy by the end. We lingered over lunch, dawdled in a fun toy store, and huddled around a box of hot cider doughnuts at the orchard. We did call it quits on picking and bought pre-picked apples. They're still fresh, right?

So if Murphy's law is "anything that can go wrong will go wrong", I'm wondering if there's a phrase for the opposite--when everything that can go right, goes right.

Due to an amazingly wonderful confluence of events, Rob and I are going to Italy in December!! He has been invited to a conference in Turin and then we'll take the train down to Florence. I've always wanted to go to Florence. It's my name. I have to go. It's my new law.

Love is Spoken Here

My favorite musical number from General Conference last weekend was "Love is Spoken Here" near the end of the Sunday morning session. It brought back happy memories of singing with my family growing up. Including parents, we had a total of 4 girls and 6 boys, so we could pull off a pretty good version of this number and frequently sang it for Family Home Evening, dinner guests, family gatherings, and I think we even sang in church a time or two. I'm certain that I rolled my eyes more than once at my Dad's request for us to sing together (sorry Dad) and I probably made disparaging comments (sorry everyone else) about our performances. But years later, my heart lights up when I hear this song and makes me really miss those times and the feelings of togetherness that come from being part of a family.

My parents' example of faith, love, perseverance, charity and service is a constant in my life and I am thankful for it every day. I feel so blessed to have grown up in a home where love was spoken and taught. I agree with the lyrics about the power of example and the reminder that the Savior is near when we speak in love. When I have happy memories from my childhood, it always makes me wonder what our children will remember from their growing-up years.


(Girls) I see my mother kneeling with our family each day.
I hear the words she whispers as she bows her head to pray.
Her plea to the Father quiets all my fears,
And I am thankful love is spoken here.

(Boys) Mine is a home where ev’ry hour is blessed by the strength of priesthood pow’r,
With father and mother leading the way,
Teaching me how to trust and obey;
And the things they teach are crystal clear,
For love is spoken here.

[ending together] I can often feel the Savior near
When love is spoken here.

“Love Is Spoken Here,” Children’s Songbook of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 190–91, Words and music: Janice Kapp Perry

Brain Waves

On our way home from Wilmington on Monday I found myself thinking about my college roommate, Melissa. I hadn't heard from her in several months and was missing her, wondering what she's been doing. When I checked my email that night, I found I had an email from her and also a comment on our blog. Do you think that's coincidence or telepathy? I called her the next day and we had a long talk and laughed about catching each other's 'brain waves'. It's nice to know that someone else was thinking about you just as you were thinking about them. It seems to happen to me alot though.

The other thing that often happens is the desire to write a letter. Sometimes it's just wanting to put pen to paper, sometimes I get a feeling that someone needs a letter. I usually don't know the result of these promptings, but it always makes ME feel better to put an envelope in the mail.

But today the brain waves are short and far between. We're still unpacking from Wilmington and Rob leaves early tomorrow morning for a conference in Ohio. Eloise has been home sick for two days. Potty training continues. End of term projects are due and leaves are beginning to fall. The house is a wreck and I'm hosting book group here tomorrow night.

I was wondering why on earth I volunteered for that and then I remembered that with Rob out of town, the only way I can go is if it's at my house. We're discussing "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society"--a book about books, told through letters--and therefore a great favorite of mine. In fact, my roommate Melissa had just discussed this in her book group and thought of me when they talked about writing letters. So it all comes together at last.

All this to deal with and the only thing I can think about it is what to make for the book group treat. I love planning what to serve. Potato Peel Pie didn't cut it, so I think I'm going to try an apple pie with a cheddar crust and vanilla ice cream. Brain wave me if you want to come over and try some :)

Items of Use in My Daily Life

Specimen #1

Useful: I present to you the amazing, faithful, hard-working yellow tupperware colander(circa 1970's). It was given to me by one of Rob's college roommates after I expressed enthusiastic nostalgia for it. We must have had one like it growing up. I don't remember it exactly, but I remembered this when I saw it again and it was like meeting an old friend. "Oh, the yellow colander! I've missed you!" I've used this thing for all the years of our marriage for MANY purposes--food, crafts, and household projects. It might be the very most useful thing I own. Rob thinks he washes it in every sink of dirty dishes and has been known to ask, "Isn't the yellow colander in here somewhere?" We share a macabre joke that if I die an untimely death, this will be the thing that brings him to tears of remembrance each time he sees it. I will certainly stop to grab it if there's a fire.

Specimen #2

NOT Useful: I now present you with the vintage Snoopy alarm clock (also circa 1970's) we purchased at DI this summer. We thought it was so cute and retro and who doesn't need an alarm clock? Well once we put batteries in it, we discovered why it had been sent to DI. This clock has a heart-attack inducing alarm--one loud shrill ring (think Fire Station 5-alarm fire ring). Bea was playing with the clock in my bathroom yesterday and apparently set it to conveniently go off at 4:30 this morning. Scared me half to death! And sad to say this isn't the first time that has happened. In fact, my heart was beating so hard I couldn't fall back asleep and I lay there thinking what a worthless clock it is, since I've been truly "alarmed" by it at least half a dozen times and have NEVER purposely set it for its intended use. Back to Goodwill with you, little Snoopy. Run along now.

Specimen #3

Undecided: What do you think, friends? Are pull-ups a good thing or do they just prolong the agony? We have entered this swampy middle ground of potty-training and I'm not sure if these are useful or not. We're definitely out of the diapers. (There are 6 left in the house and I'm refusing to buy more--will I regret that?) But Bea is not completely (or even mostly) reliable in underwear. I clean up at least 2 accidents a day, but we are making progress. Just not enough to go out in public or to friends' houses without padded protection. Give me advice please. It seems like my last potty-training episode was a long time ago and SJ practically did it herself, overnight.

Anyway, these are three things I've used today. Two of these things will be used again and one no longer belongs in the family. Anyone need an alarm clock?

It's a beautiful day in the Neighborhood

One neighbor(Shan) just called to say she took our other neighbor (Kathryn) to the ER with a migraine. Shan picked up Kathryn's son from preschool and called me to see if the two of us could pull together dinner for Kathryn's family. I'm supplying a few ingredients and making cornbread for 3 families and Shan is making Jambalaya for the rest of us. Nice. This is how our neighbors roll and we love it.

Our retired neighbor, Bill, has been teaching Rob jazz piano for the last several months and shares his bumper crop of tomatoes with us. MaryAnne next door gives us yard advice and her son helps us with mechanical repairs. Kim gets me out running in the early mornings and trades babysitting with me. Kathryn is comic relief at the bus stop in the mornings and Shan always knows what to do in a crisis. I keep tabs on everyone and try to get us together once in a while. We know everyone in 8 of the 10 houses we can see from ours (and a few neighbor/friends we can't see from our house).

Bill (piano neighbor) and his wife Gwen came for dinner last weekend and told us they are moving soon to be closer to family. Still in Charlotte, but not in our cozy little neighborhood. Rob doesn't get sentimental about much, but he was very sad about this news. It feels good to have neighbors you know and trust and it stinks when you have to break it up. Viva Cheshunt!

Thinking about this reminds me of all the neighbors we've loved before--the Tongan family, the sweet Jewish lady, and the eldery childless couple who raised turtles and chihuahuas (neighbors from my childhood). A fun neighbor named Megan who traded recipes with me while our girls played on the steps in front of our student apartments. The Wenglers, Bradshaws, Waltons, Hansons--dear friends in our Indiana Mormon Ghetto apartments :) Such happy memories from all those homes and neighbors. I often tell my far away sisters and sisters-in-law that I wish we could be neighbors--to share jobs, recipes, ideas & companionship.

To all of you, I sing:

I have always wanted to have a neighbor just like you,
I've always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you.

So let's make the most of this beautiful day,
Since we're together, we might as well say,
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?
Won't you be my neighbor?

Won't you please,
Won't you please,
Please won't you be my neighbor?

Praise the Lord on Wednesday

We had a super awesome Southern experience last night when we attended a Gospel Shout at the United House of Prayer for All People. We didn't make it to the Soul food dinner beforehand, but you can be sure we'll be there next year, because this is going to be an annual tradition for our family. It was everything I imagined and more--all the clapping, shouting, call and response singing, a capella choirs, and hands raised to heaven. The only thing I wasn't prepared for were the tambourines. Wow. I didn't even know the possibilities of this instrument. People in the audience even brought their own tambourines so they could bang along with the band. (Sorry for the horrible video--Bea was hanging on my arm--but you have to see this guy.)






For a better sound than I could capture, listen here. Loved the trumpets. Loved the swaying and clapping. It was loud and wild and so different from anything I've ever heard before. The girls (especially Bea) were a little weirded out at first, but soon we were all clapping and dancing too. You just can't sit still with this kind of worship going on. And it is worship, though very different from ours. It felt joyful, welcoming, and inspiring and called to mind a long heritage of beautiful song and dance in worship. Let all the people cry Amen!

Nourishment

Part I.
Saturday was a Western North Carolina regional women's conference held in the mountains near Asheville. We had a special guest speaker from Salt Lake City: Julie Beck, General Relief Society President! I left home in the early hours of the morning to attend a training meeting for RS presidencies. We grabbed some lunch, held an impromptu presidency meeting, then returned for a second session with sisters from all over the state. It was really interesting, since Sister Beck did both sessions question and answer style. After a brief introduction, she took questions from the audience and then gave an answer, usually illustrated with a personal story and scriptures. By the time Rob picked me up at 3pm, I felt full to the brim, overstuffed with goodness, hope, sisterhood and strength. I learned so much, but here are my 3 favorites.

1) Spend time in the scriptures every day.
2) Poor visiting teaching numbers often reflect a reporting problem rather than a ministering problem, because sisters do care for each other in so many ways. Practice 'ministering' rather than asking, 'Does this count?' in regards to VT.
3) The most important skill you can have is to seek, feel, and obey personal revelation.

Part II.
Rob drove the girls to Asheville and picked me up. We met his sisters Susan and Megan at our special place, SkyTop Orchard. We picked a bushel of apples to eat (about 40 lbs.) and also bought a bushel of peaches when the highway dipped down into South Carolina (SC has yummy peaches too, cousins of the more famous Georgia Peach). It was a hot afternoon and a long day for all the little children, but we still had a great time. I spent Monday canning peaches (14 quarts!) and I'm proud of my efforts. I think even my mother-in-law Cecile would be impressed. I consider her the patron saint of food preservation, so if you can impress her, that's pretty good :)

Canning (when I do it) makes me think about my mother and grandmothers and helps me feel a connection to them. I hardly remember my mom canning, but I know she did it because we ate home-canned fruit and vegetables all through the year. I can picture her in my mind, staying up late, exhausted as she must have been, to finish yet another job for her large, hungry family. (Why, oh WHY, did I not pay more attention? Why was I not a more helpful daughter? I could just slap my teenage self for being so obtuse.)

My great grandma, Effie Adams, taught me how to can peaches when I was a young, new mom with a 5 month old Maddie. I remember that day in her sunny kitchen and how surely she worked. She told me how much she enjoyed teaching me because she had never had a daughter with whom she could share those skills. I felt nourished that day. Now it is my turn to nourish others and my bushel basket is full to overflowing.

Scents and Sensibility

When you hear the words 'Polo', 'Georgio', 'Eternity', I'm sure your brain comes up with very specific images as mine does. Junior high dances, trips to the drugstore to buy illicit eyeliner and perfume knock-offs, etc. Smells of perfumes I've worn can conjure up those days like nothing else. 'Beautiful', 'Sunflowers', 'Tresor', 'Gio'. (That last one had to be given away after unfortunate associations with my first pregnancy nausea.)

Today while putting on my perfume, I decided to make note of my current fragrances. I'm not tied down to just one, but there have been a few favorites over the years and the ones I have now are definitely "me". I think perfume descriptions are funny because they sound so delicious, but it's really impossible to guess what it will actually smell like, or how it will smell on you. I've always liked Clinique's 'Happy' and love how it smells on others, but it quite literally stinks on me.

Several years ago we traveled to China with my family and found 'Les Belles Almond Amour' in the airport duty free shop. I fell in love with it and it has been my true favorite ever since. Very hard to find, but so worth it. This is my Sunday, date night, special occasion perfume. Another good one is Coco Chanel, given by Rob on an anniversary. It's a very mature and heavy scent, so it's reserved for cooler temperatures and grown-up occasions.

My everyday wear is Brown Sugar & Fig from Bath & Body Works. This is the lotion/body spray/body wash scent I use most. My Christmas present last year was Burberry Brit. I loved it in the store and tried it on several times. I still really like it and wear it frequently, but I don't think I'll buy it again. Just not the most 'me'. Funny how some scents are like that.

And funny how a specific scent comes to be tied to a person. Rob could never wear Obsession because that's what my dad wore all during my teenage years. And there are certain colognes worn by ex-boyfriends that are off limits. I like to smell the perfume bottles in my mother and mother in laws bathrooms. I loved to smell the bottle of 'White Shoulders' in my great grandmother's room, even though I think she rarely wore it. I love it when my girls sniff my perfume and tell me which one I should wear.

What scent are you wearing now? Do you agree with its description? What scents turn you off? I myself don't like Gardenia AT ALL (another pregnancy casualty). Word to the wise: put your (and your husband's) favorite scents in hiding during the first few weeks of sickness to avoid collateral damage. As you can see, smells were a 'scentsitive' issue. haha.

Charlotte's Web

We've got a new pet spider. We've identified it as a black and yellow argiope (garden orb spider) and she has proved to be a fascinating friend in these last lazy days of summer. We know she's a lady spider because of her size (2 inches long!).

The web is situated between two shrubs, a mere 3 feet from the front window, so we've been able to watch the spider close-up from the comfort and safety of air-conditioning behind glass. Orb spiders frequently tear down and rebuild their webs, so yesterday we watched with great interest off and on for an hour while she spun her web. I've never actually watched a spider make a web and it was the most interesting thing ever. Rob says he's seen it lots of times--something about growing up as a boy and that's just part of it, I guess. It was a first for our girls too and we were all inspired by the work and talent of our spider. Maddie has even seen her trap and wrap a hornet that flew into the web. (She's harmless to humans, by the way.)

Also known as "writing spiders", this variety finishes its web with a white zig zag pattern made of thick, banded silk. We watched the spider go around and around her web, waiting for her to make the zig zag. We almost missed it during our breakfast break, but got back just in time to see it created and it was really amazing! It made me think of a quote from Elder M. Russell Ballard from this month's "Friend" magazine:

"[An] experience [with roses] led me to consider the myriad forms of plant and animal life that thrive in astounding balance upon the earth. My esteem for our little roses took on an element of wonder and reverence. I pondered the power of the creative genius who lovingly provided such marvels for his children. I thought then how important it is for every human soul to see and appreciate the glory and grandeur of God in everything about us."

We see the glory and grandeur in this creature we've been watching. Even Bea runs to check on her each morning. I don't know if I'll ever look at spiders the same way again.


P.S. I discovered this in my research today: "Charlotte gives her full name as "Charlotte A. Cavatica", revealing her as a barn spider, an orb-weaver with the scientific name Araneus cavaticus."

**photo from http://frank.itlab.us/zoo/

I'm the best at everything

My cousin James Paul taught me the word "megalomaniac"--someone obsessed with wealth, power, genius, or omnipotence. I wouldn't say I'm obsessed exactly, but in light of recent self-esteem issues, I do find myself looking for reasons to pat myself on the back. James also taught me a catchy song he made up that became a family favorite: "My name is __________. I'm the best at everything. I just can't explain this feeling of superiority that I feel whenever I look at you...."

Okay, so I'm not the best at everything, but I've had this song stuck in my head all week and I would like to congratulate myself on sticking with my writing goal for one whole year!! This week marks a full year of Wednesday letters. Last year I opened this blog, but then decided to do it by email instead. I figure that after a year, those who have been reading will want to continue, and those who don't read might want me to stay out of their inbox!

I haven't been back to this blog since I wrote the first entry last summer and it surprised me to remember how strongly I felt that I needed to begin writing. I don't know why I felt so prompted, but I do know I have really enjoyed writing over this past year. The journaling, remembering, noticing, the response from others, even having a deadline--these things have all made me love and look forward to writing these letters each week.

I'm not published and I may never be, but I finally feel like I can say I'm a writer. I write. Every week.

Flori