From Saturday Night to Saturday Night Live

When we lived in Bloomington with our 3 little girls, they loved to watch "The Lawrence Welk Show" on Saturday night on PBS. They would hurry through their baths and sit on our bed as we combed out their hair, rolled curlers, and laughed at the silly songs and frilly dresses on the show. I remember this song in particular, because we loved to hear Eloise's little voice singing "Frankfurter sandwiches".

It's hard to believe how long past those days are...and it really hit home the other night when Rob showed Maddie this Lawrence Welk skit from Saturday Night Live. It actually was late on Saturday night and she laughed SO hard and was so silly about re-enacting the skit the next day with her sisters. Very funny stuff, but it made me wonder--how has our life changed so much, so soon?

Thank You Bryan, whoever you are....

This afternoon I took a much-needed hour for myself and went running on the shady, autumn-leafed greenway near our house. As I ran, I began to notice messages along the path, written in children's writing with sidewalk chalk. GO GO GO. Go Bryan! Cool! You Can Do It!! You're Awesome! Run Fast!

At first it just made me smile, but then I started to feel like I had my own personal cheerleading section and I felt inspired to push on a little further than I'd planned. I saw a couple of messages that said 40 B4 40! and began to picture this Bryan in my head...a neighborhood Dad type of guy, coming up on the big 4-0, and setting some goals for himself. 40 miles? 40 races? 40 hours on the trail? I realized I could squeeze in 40 miles before age 40 if I did another half marathon and then a full marathon. I began to wonder, and to put "Flori" in wherever I read Bryan's name. (Go Flori!)

All this wondering about "Bryan" and I started to realize that life is good and people are good and all the little things that annoy me and frustrate me are not my LIFE, they're just little annoying things and they will pass. In the midst of all these thoughts, I saw a runner coming toward me. A dad-type of guy who was actually just how I'd imagined Bryan. I felt weirdly happy. And then I noticed that this man only had one arm--the other was off above his elbow. But he was just trucking along, enjoying the beautiful fall day like I was.
It really made me think. Not "Oh, my life could be so much worse..." but "my life could be so different". But it's not. This is the life I have right now and there are so many good things about it. There is so much I can do and enjoy, even if we can't manage to sell our house.

The last message on the trail said, VICTORY!!! Thank you, fellow travelers, for lighting my path today.

Designer Genes

Always looking for new and interesting creative challenges, I decided to try my hand at clothing design. Here are my dress designs for the Shabby Apple Dresses contest:

The first two designs hark back to the dropped-waist of some of my favorite 80s dresses. I am happy to see this style returning! The v-neck top and underskirt are made of a lycra knit covered in chiffon. Lined sleeves and a flowing 3-tiered chiffon skirt give plenty of coverage for modesty. Neck and dropped waist are trimmed with a matching cotton crochet trim to add a little texture. A detachable flower pin can be worn at the waist or shoulder. The color varies with the monitor, but the first dress is meant to be ivory colored with an orange/scarlet poppy. The second dress is a two-toned apple green with a white or cream flower.

I plan on making this dress whether I win the contest or not. I am IN LOVE with this fabric, Poppy Bouquet by Laura Gunn. Really, the entire line of hers is my favorite ever. The design is modeled on a girls dress I bought years ago at Goodwill. It has a zipper back, cap sleeves, a high waistline with no gathering, and a wonderful twirly skirt. I've added a matching grey belt, though I think it would look lovely with a bright red belt too.

The Beauty of two ugly quilts

My maternal grandmother Ruth Adams is a skilled quilter with many beautiful quilts to her credit. She has finally stopped quilting in the last year and divided her long-held fabric stash between my mother and aunts. While visiting my parents this summer, I cut squares from 36 of those vintage fabrics, including a scrap of the fabric used for the bridesmaid dresses at my parents' wedding. This was my triumphant and happy return to sewing after a 3-month hiatus and it was a great project! I was wondering what to use for the backing--I wanted something that looked old but wasn't too scary. I was so happy to find this length of fabric at Goodwill for $2.



Now that Rob is working at UGA, we feel obligated to pay homage to the famous Georgia bulldog. He was so happy to find this really awful fabric at Ikea: Varmt Hund. We bought one in red/white and one in black/white since those are all UGA's colors. The red one is a now an office wall hanging, and this one is a lap quilt for his attic office when it gets cold. You can't see it, but I machine quilted all around the dog. Again, I found an awesome backing at Goodwill--almost 4 yards of black velvet corduroy for just a few dollars.

I think these are the ugliest two quilts I've ever made, but they were very inexpensive and fun to do and I hope our family will get lots of good use from them!

Swooning

We are getting close to swooning around here. Maddie had developed an intense interest in historical fiction with a romantic twist. Over the summer we watched several versions of Pride and Prejudice (Colin Firth, *sigh*), Sense and Sensibility, and Jane Eyre (oh, that Mr. Rochester!)

We ended with an emotional Anne of Green Gables marathon. I remember the summer I first fell for Gilbert Blythe. I was 15 and we were visiting friends in Canada. They lived far out in the country and I was being a very ungracious house guest and proclaiming my teenage boredom throughout the house. The mom suggested I watch this new movie they had and I was hooked. I think I watched the whole series at least 3 times that week. It is fun to see Maddie get giddy for these romantic heroes and every time we watch one of these movies, I am SO glad I have girls who will swoon and sigh with me.

I laughed so hard the other day, talking with friends about the huge posters we used to have on the backs of our doors...Kirk Cameron, George Michael, the Top Gun team...and how we would get so dreamy about them. (Do they even make giant posters any more?!) I know those boy-crazy days are nearly here for Maddie, but I'll be glad for every day she keeps stars in her eyes for Gilbert Blythe.

Jello TAP-ee-OCA pudding

It may (or may not) surprise you to know that I have a serious weakness for commercial-grade pudding. I love pudding packs, and tapioca is my favorite. (On a side note, I really love homemade tapioca pudding. For some reason, my mom used to always put red food coloring in to turn it a pale shade of pink. I was an adult with my own children before I knew that tapioca is not really pink.)

Our small, limited-selection store, Aldi, usually only carries chocolate and vanilla packs. As I was gearing up for school lunches at the grocery store last week, I noticed they had a special purchase of both tapioca and butterscotch pudding. So I totally stocked up. Today as I made lunches for the first day of school, I proudly slipped a tapioca pudding and spoon into each lunch box, thinking what a fun treat it would be for the girls (and surreptitiously tucking the 4th snack pack in the fridge for my afternoon snack....)

Imagine my horror when one by one, each daughter came home from school, and told me, "Mom, that pudding you gave me was all rotten and curdled. I had to throw the whole thing away." Oh, the waste...
And oh, the sadness, when I told them they missed out on tapioca pudding. I sure enjoyed mine.

I think it might actually be okay...

One good friend took the older girls to the beach for a few days. Another good friend offered to keep Bea all day and overnight. (Don't I have the best friends, really?) That left Rob and me a little over 24 hours to make a quick trip down to Athens. He got his office keys, chose furniture and paint, finalized new computer details, and got his official University of Georgia ID. I committed myself to this move by buying a "Bulldogs" sweatshirt at the UGA bookstore, not a step to be taken lightly. As we drove to Georgia, I hoped I'd have better feeling about Athens than I had last time (when I cried on and off all weekend, and sobbed on the way home). I had a better feeling this time. MUCH better.

• It was interesting to walk through campus and absorb the energy of a big university and the history of "the oldest public university in the country" --as Rob reminded me several times, trying to impress me, I think :)

• It was encouraging to meet with a realtor who understood us and to narrow our search down to a manageable area of town with good schools and proximity to church and work. We still need to sell our house here before we can commit to anything there, but I was happy with our options and saw lots of neighborhoods that looked likely.

• After the past few busy weeks, it was lovely to have my husband to myself for a whole day. It's been a while since just the two of us have taken a road trip and it was fun just to be together and explore our new life without distraction. Simple pleasures like browsing in the bookstore, sleeping in, and sharing a diet vanilla Pepsi from the gas station just don't happen in our regular life.

We ate a really late dinner at The Grit, a little hipster, vegetarian college hangout type of restaurant. It was awesome and exactly the kind of place they DON'T have in Charlotte, but seems to abound in Athens. We had the best chocolate cake that I've ever had in my life, and I've really tried a lot of chocolate cake. I find myself looking on the bright side of things.

Everyday Food

With our house for sale and the pressure to keep it clean all the time (Boo, hiss....), I've pretty much stopped sewing altogether. It's just not worth it to get out all my stuff, set it up, work for a few minutes, and then clean it all up again. I like to sew for long stretches and make a big huge mess with several projects going at once and that doesn't work so well with our lifestyle right now.

So, I've turned to cooking in my need for a creative outlet and hobby. It still makes a mess, but it's also a *necessity* to feed my family, so I might as well experiment a little with some fun new recipes.

My new best friend is my subscription to Everyday Food magazine. My new obsessions: 1) ricotta cheese, 2) getting creative in using up our food storage.

Here are some of our favorites. The french dip is an old standby, but the rest are new found treasures.

French Dip Sandwiches I used London broil for the last batch and they were the best ever--so flavorful and hardly any fat. Use leftover meat in chimichangas or burritos.

Whole wheat flatbreads with lamb and yogurt (I used ground beef with great success. This was an instant mega hit. Make extra flatbreads to serve with hummus!)

Thai Beef with Chiles and Basil over coconut rice (I have made with ground beef, sausage, and chicken--all tasty. Great way to use lots of that yummy basil from your garden!)

Zucchini Pasta with Ricotta: very light and summery.

Roasted Potatoes with Ricotta (this one is newly published, so it's not on her website yet. It's a fantastic way to use up the other half of the ricotta from the zucchini pasta. You can also roast the zucchini and potatoes at the same time to cut down on your work later!)

Preheat oven to 450. Place 1 1/2 lbs. small new potatoes in center of a 3-ft. long piece of foil. Drizzle with 1 tsp. olive oil and season with coarse salt and ground pepper. Bring long sides of foil together and fold edges over, then tightly crimp ends to create a packet.

Roast on a baking sheet until cooked through, 35 to 40 minutes. In a small bowl, combine 1/2 cup ricotta, 2 Tbsp. finely grated Parmesan, and finely grated zest from 1/2 lemon; season with salt and pepper. When potatoes are cool enough to handle, cut a small X on top of each with a paring knife and gently squeeze open. Dollop about 1 tsp. ricotta mixture into each. Drizzle 1 Tbsp. olive oil over potatoes. Serves 4.

Finally!

One more dawn.
One more day.
One day more!

These words from Les Miserables keep running through my head.

Tomorrow is the last day of school and I'm ridiculously happy about it. I know a week from now I'll be complaining about the lack of routine, the messy house, and bored kids. But for now I'm so ready to stop making lunches, trying to catch the bus, and managing homework and projects. I'm going to sleep in on Friday just because I can.

It's still too early to tell if this is the summer where I'm incredibly organized and have fun activities and healthy snacks planned for my children each day.

And speaking of "The End", I recently read "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy--an apocolypse novel about the end of the world. Totally depressing and disturbing, but so interesting. I hope the end of the school year holds more promise than the novel.

I've still got my groove

Today I chaperoned Maddie's 7th grade end-of-year party at the skating rink. It was the consummate middle school social experience, complete with lots of awkward moments from "the sevvies". It was fun to see them gain in confidence and momentum as the party wore on and I'm continually impressed with the quality of kids at Maddie's school.

I was, however, unprepared for the flood of memories that came rushing back when I first walked in to the rink today. Bad memories: The sweaty foot smell, the nasty black carpets with squiggly neon designs, the truly horrible pizza, and the annoying DJ voice-overs. Good memories: the huge wooden floor, disco lights, watching awesome wipeouts and talented skaters/dancers, and the feeling of doing something really fun with my friends.

As 100+ middle schoolers circled the floor, I thought back through my roller skating history-- from learning to skate in our driveway on my white skates with noisy metal wheels, to birthday parties and field trips to the 49th Street Galleria, to college disco skating parties at Classic Skating. And then it all came to a screeching halt about 15 years ago.

The loud, beat-filled music wore on and I began to feel so old. I didn't recognize any of the songs, except the Old Faithful of all dance parties, "Forever Young". But even that had been remixed and pumped up. I idly wondered what it would be like to skate again, then wondered if I could still do it, then longed for an excuse to try it again. No adults were skating at this point, but as soon as I saw a few teachers and parents drift over to the skate rental counter, I made my move and snagged the very last pair of traditional skates in my size. I surprised myself and Maddie too. I'm no roller derby queen, but I can still go round and round.

De-personalized

I've recently read several articles on "depersonalizing" your home before selling it--the object being to let potential buyers imagine their own belongings in your home. They are supposed to be able to focus on your home, not your possessions.

Although I've been working on this for several weeks, yesterday was the big day to remove final portraits from the wall, including my favorite pictures of the girls in the entryway.

It made me really sad and I felt emotional all day long. Obviously, the personal things are what make our house our home and packing these things away make it feel so, well, depersonalized. Even though it's still our home, I can feel the tide turning toward a time when it will no longer be ours.
Many of you have asked about our progress. We are meeting with a couple of different realtors tomorrow and hope to have our house listed within the next 7-10 days. We are all decluttered and are working on painting touch-ups and last minute cleaning. I'm wondering if anyone would even notice if we abandoned our recently acquired storage unit and everything in it. In some ways, this feels like a much simpler way to live (without all our stuff).

A Moment of Loveliness

I noted this today in the book I'm reading--Gilead by Marilynne Robinson--as an old, dying father writes a memoir to his young son.

"I wish I could give you the memory I have of your mother that day. I wish I could leave you certain of the images in my mind, because they are so beautiful that I hate to think they will be extinguished when I am. Well, but again, this life has its own mortal loveliness. And memory is not strictly mortal in its nature, either. It is a strange thing, after all, to be able to return to a moment, when it can hardly be said to have any reality at all, even in its passing. A moment is such a slight thing, I mean, that its abiding is a most gracious reprieve."

I had one of those lovely mortal moments the other night when Bea snuck into our bed in the middle of the night. She quickly fell asleep nestled between Rob and me, and I was drifting off again, when suddenly Bea began to laugh in her sleep. It was a prolonged giggle of pure joy. I stayed awake a while longer, hoping to hear it again and wondering what in her dreams could make her laugh with such unrestrained delight. I will never know what tickled her so in her sleep, but I'm so glad I was there to hear it; a "gracious reprieve" indeed.

Oh No, You Can't Take That Away From Me...

I have thrown away an incredible amount of trash this week. There are heaping piles of stuff in our living room, all sorted and ready for our giant neighborhood yard sale this Saturday. My day consists of going from room to room and collecting items for the purge. Sometimes I have to dig deep, but most of it is obvious.

For years, we have harbored a largish collection of audio tapes that are locked away in cases and stashed behind the couch. A few nights ago, Rob and I agreed it was time to let them go. We rarely even open the cases. But when I finally got them out yesterday, I couldn't do it. I sorted and pruned and reduced from 3 cases to 2, but I couldn't throw our music out.


How can you throw part of your own soul away? How could you sell a piece of your personality to strangers? Here are just a few of the millions of memories linked to this box of cassette tapes:

• saving my 7th grade babysitting money to buy "Yaz" and "Book of Love" at Spanky's Records & Tapes: my first music purchase ever.
• Play. pause. rewind. play. pause: this is how we got the lyrics to our favorite songs--listening intently and writing them down. None of this internet search stuff.
• the day Rob showed up at my dorm with his entire dual-recording stereo system loaded into a huge Jansport pack. We made our first (and only) mix tape. I still love it (and him).
• making tapes for Rob while he was on his mission, and listening to his voice while he was so far away.
• Being introduced to "The Clash" by my Uncle Bob and Aunt Andrea. British punk rock was a revelation to me.
• going to a Depeche Mode concert (what were my parents thinking?!)

Oh yes, we're keeping these babies.

Where, oh where has my little brain gone?

Seems like I'm hard pressed to even know what day it is...I'm going to try hard not to turn this into a blog about how stressful/hard/depressing it is to move, but you've got to know it is these thoughts that weigh heavily on my mind ALL THE TIME.

Since huge amounts of brain and muscle power are now dedicated to cleaning/packing/getting the house ready to sell, I find it difficult to make even small decisions about birthday parties, weekend plans, what to have for dinner.

Last night I purposely invited a friend over for dinner so I'd be forced to come up with something more exciting than grilled cheese or cold cereal. Then I had to call another friend mid-dinner prep because I couldn't remember what to add to our pesto pasta. (Peas: yes. Ham: no. Thank you Karen!)

I fantasize about a kind, fun, wonderful and rich family who will knock on our door and offer to buy our house before it even goes on the market. Seriously, I would love them forever.

Amid all the chaos, though, I have small peaceful moments where I feel like I get just a small heavenly pat on the back and a whispered, "You will be okay. You can do this." Those moments keep me going. I had a big one on Saturday, running an 8k race with my friend, Kim. It was a great race, I made good time, and it was the first race where I really felt like a true runner. (After 3 years...finally!) But I was truly, fully happy for about 15 minutes (before it got hard) and I was grateful for that.

My little mustard seed

If you haven't heard our news, read here first. Then come back and I'll tell you how I feel about it.

I haven't exactly been a supportive, encouraging wife on this whole job application to Georgia thing. It wasn't what I had in mind, wasn't the timetable I'd imagined. I'm seriously working my way through the 5 stages of grief--I've passed denial, anger, bargaining, and now hover between depression and acceptance. It was a hard move here for me and I've realized it will be a hard move away.
In all my prayers and all my longing for assurances that this is the right thing, the one sure answer I've received is this: Trust in the Lord. General Conference was going on the weekend we had to make our decision, and I didn't get the answer I was seeking, but I was reminded of a few important things. Namely that I'm not alone in this and that I need my faith to be more powerful than my fears.

"Things work out, it isn't as bad as you sometimes think it is. It all works out, don't worry. I say that to myself every morning. It will all work out. If you do your best, it will all work out. Put your trust in God, and move forward with faith and confidence in the future. The Lord will not forsake us. If we will put our trust in him, if we will pray to him, if we will live worthy of his blessings, he will hear our prayers."
Gordon B. Hinckley

"If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you." (Matthew 17:20)




"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths." (Proverbs 3:5-6)

Young and Old on Wednesday

Today Bea got a book at the library called "Am I Big or Little?" The mom says, "You're little enough to _______" and the girl says, "But I'm big enough to ________". I've been having similar thoughts all week about my age as I creep uncomfortably closer to 40. Am I young or am I old?



I've made peace--even friends--with my brown curly hair just when it's starting to turn gray and thin. Am I too old to grow it long one last time?

I'm determined to beat my weight into submission, but the stretch marks and crow's feet are here to stay. I'm working on the conviction that healthy can be even more beautiful than young.

I love to exercise on the wii fit--the only video game I've ever done well on--because my virtual age is always younger than my real age!

Am I happy? (yes)
Do I feel fulfilled? (mostly)
Do I have meaningful relationships in my life? (yes)
Am I a good mother? (I think I'm okay, but complaints around here often say otherwise. It's easy to lose confidence.)
Do I have any major regrets in life? (no)
Do I have a testimony and faith? (yes)

So far so good. I think I will pursue another year.

from my girls:
Sarah Jane: Mom is old enough to cook her own meals, but young enough not to be a grandma.
Eloise: Mom is old enough to know a lot but young enough to still learn from her daughters :) .
Maddie: Mom is old enough to yell at me, but young enough to go shopping with me.

Lucky Irish heirloom recipes

On several different years, I've tried making corned beef and cabbage on St. Patrick's Day. It just never turns out how I think it should and every time I ask myself why I feel compelled to make this traditional Irish dish. We're not Irish. I don't buy green candy or decorate with shamrocks. I do wear green, but just because it's funny to wonder if someone besides my kids would pinch me for not wearing green. :)

Today I decided to try a new tradition--Irish beef stew--by using our favorite stew recipe (and just calling it 'Irish'). I gathered all the ingredients and pulled out the crockpot, but when I went to get the recipe, it was nowhere to be found. I've made it many times, but apparently didn't put the card back last time. I called my mother-in-law, who first gave me the recipe. When I couldn't reach her, I made my way through several sisters-in-law, and then to my own mother. Each woman gave me a different recipe, and I had no luck finding a similar recipe online. So I made it according to memory, knowing full well I was missing ingredients and amounts. We haven't tasted it yet, but I wonder if anyone will say, "This doesn't taste the same...."

It made me think about recipes and how they get passed on, changed, adopted as our own. I would seriously consider rescuing my cookbooks if our house was burning down. I've realized today that there are thousands of beef stew recipes, but only one that is our family's favorite. It made me think of a dear friend whose mother has passed away and one of my friend's biggest regrets is that she didn't write down all of her mother's best recipes and the changes she made.

I like trying new recipes, but I'm trying to compile a 'best of' and would be happy to share it once I get organized (check back in a few years!). I have made MANY pots of minestrone, but always come back to my mom's. Her cream pies are the BEST, too. But I don't use her roll recipe (I use the Lion House recipe) and obviously, we inherited a wonderful beef stew recipe from Rob's side. If I get lucky and find it soon, I'll post it here.

Retreating

Sometimes you just gotta get out of Dodge. We are headed to the Great Smoky Mountains in Tennessee to celebrate Sarah Jane's birthday. We try to do an "experience" gift when our kids turn 8, and hers coincided with an invitation from some good friends in Indiana. They have a daughter Sarah's age, and she couldn't be more thrilled than to have a whole weekend of playing with a friend! We are sharing a cabin in the woods and I can't wait for some new scenery, some down time, and some late night visiting with old friends.

Our digs are near Dollywood (huge amusement complex owned by yes, Dolly Parton), and Gatlingburg, TN (a famous mountain resort), but we are planning to spend our time wandering around outside, playing and hiking. A break from your usual life (even just for a weekend) can be so relaxing and refreshing. Plus, we get to eat yummy food all weekend and we even have our own hot tub! Ah, small luxuries.

Our friends are vegetarian, so it has been a fun challenge coming up with meals. Fun because I already have a lot of meatless meals in my repetoire....challenging because the mom is vegan and I hadn't realized how much I depend on eggs, butter and cheese.

Best of all, SJCC is 8 and 8 is great!!! We took her to lunch today and I'm about to start preparing a Chinese food feast for her requested birthday dinner. I love birthdays. I love that she is growing up to be such a sweet, lovely, creative, caring, entertaining girl. Love that she is more excited about going to the mountains than having an expensive, stressful, hectic birthday party.

LOVE that every year, she requests coconut cream pie instead of a birthday cake. Do you think I should break my no-sugar rule to have pie with her? I'm still debating, but dang, that pie looks good. I guess that's a Re-treat of another sort...
Boo. Bad pun, but I couldn't resist. The girls have been very into puns lately and I keep thinking of them. It's genetic.

Skinny and Neurotic

Remember this post? Well, that friend who doesn't bake was my same weight and size 18 months ago. She had a little boy a few months after Bea was born and we often commiserated about losing the weight and getting back in shape. I'm still talking about it, but she has lost almost 40 lbs. and 4 pant sizes. She looks awesome.
I have been exercising consistently all this time and though I feel healthy and strong, I have not been successful in losing weight. Last weekend, I found myself scanning the internet for 'miracle cures' that would help me shed the pounds. As I debated about where and how to spend my money (gym membership? appetite suppressants? herbal cleanse?), I realized that I haven't really and truly tried the thing I know I should: eating less. (It's a painfully simple math problem...)

So starting March 1, no desserts until my birthday near the end of the month. I'm 2.5 days into it and so far, so good. I know it sounds ridiculous, but this is actually a huge milestone for me!! Cutting back on sugar doesn't seem to work for me, so I'm going to try cutting it out and see what happens. I figure 3 weeks should be enough time to tell if it's working or not.

I know this is boring to everyone else (sorry), but I now understand why people who lose weight seem to talk about it a lot---it has to be on your mind ALL THE TIME. Counting calories is boring and makes me feel neurotic, but feeling overweight all the time was making me sad too, so I'm going for the healthy weight/well-adjusted psyche approach. I'll get back to you on it.

The Gift of an Ordinary Day

When I recently wrote about "Mitten Strings for God" by Katrina Kenison, I found out she has a new book called, "The Gift of an Ordinary Day". Her first book was about learning to slow down and simplify life with small children. Now she has two teenage boys who are preparing to leave home and she talks about learning to let go and to appreciate all those "lasts" and the longing mothers feel for that old busy life when your children needed you so much.
I couldn't put it down and it made me both grateful that I still have a few years left and sad for what's to come. Kenison talks about sitting down across the table from her teenage son and realizing that she has absolutely no idea what he is thinking, when she used to be able to read him like a book.
Welcome to my world. Maddie turns 13 tomorrow and is in the full throes of hormonal mood swings, but she also makes us proud with her steadiness and good choices. Bea is coming up on 3 and is constantly testing her independence and our patience. But she also has such a sweet funny little voice and engaging personality that it's impossible to stay mad for long.
Today was just a busy, regular day--helping at the school, a dr. appointment, putting laundry away--but Bea wasn't feeling well and I got in some good snuggles with her and we played Polly Pockets for a while. With 4 daughters, I've played a lot of Pollys and Barbies in my life. I hate it, really. But today I tried to remember that one day I will long for a sunny hour playing with my 2 year old, while she laughs and chatters to me.
Straddling this age gap with our kids (from teenager to toddler) is taking unexpected amounts of energy, ingenuity, and prayer.

The Groove is in the Heart

A friend put an 80's dance mix on my ipod and it makes me nostalgic every time I listen to it. Today as I ran my way through OingoBoingo, Erasure, The Pet Shop Boys, Def Leppard, and Dexys Midnight Runners, so many memories came flooding back.

I almost laughed right out loud when Pour Some Sugar on Me came on and I was transported to the summer of 1988, between 8th and 9th grade. I have a really strong memory of going to Lagoon many times that summer (Did I have a season pass? How did I get there? Did my parents really let me go to Lagoon unsupervised? I have no memory of these things) with my friends and this song seemed to always be playing. We loved it and would dance around and sing it at the top of our lungs. It was so loud and wild compared to the usual synth pop we listened to....so Def Leppard was my rebellious music phase (and only this song). Other sharp memories from that time of life include Slurpees at 7-11, chocolate cake donuts from Wally's Donut Shop, riding the city bus to my best friend's house, and some pretty sweet white ankle boots with fringe on the side. (My best friend, Alica, and I bought matching boots at Payless with our babysitting money. Yes!)
Through it all, I had some of the best friends ever, Alica, Kim, and Megan. We did a lot together in those years and they were such fun girls, and NICE girls too. As my own daughters begin to navigate the tricky world of girl friendships, I'm especially aware of and grateful for the good friends I had.
We are starting to see the first tiny signs of Maddie's interest in boys, and I can't help but think of all the boys who passed in and out of our lives in those years. The boys in my ward and neighborhood, who were always around, for better (and for worse, usually). All the crushes, phone calls, drive-bys, conversation dissections and school dances. If Maddie is even half as boy-crazy as I was, we are in some serious trouble, with a capital T!

All these thoughts as I ran and wondered how I became who I am now from the girl who danced in the sun at Lagoon 22 years ago.

The Tale of Timmy Tiptoes

He's a favorite nap-time story friend....the fat little squirrel who hides nuts in a hollow tree. (I personally favor his naught friend, Chippy Hackee, the striped chipmunk, but that is entirely besides the point of this tale.) Chippy Hackee is the best name ever.

Now, however, fat squirrels are no longer my friend; now that there is one trapped in our chimney and I can hear him scrabbling, climbing, and falling down over and over again. It's agonizing...and disturbing...and creepy...and loud.

A mystery animal died in our chimney a couple of summers ago and it was very bad and stinky for a long time, because we couldn't get it out. We had our chimney opening wrapped in wire as they do here, but apparently, we have a really cozy chimney that attracts critters.

I spent a long time on the phone today with various chimney sweeps and animal control people. One woman insisted I tell her specifically what kind of animal it was, even though I repeatedly told her I couldn't SEE it, only hear it. Another man tried to reassure me that it was a squirrel, saying "cuz if it was a 'coon, you'd hear all sorts of screamin' and cryin' goin' on." Yikes. I guess I'm thankful we can only hear it scratching and not screaming--I don't think we could handle that. We're already pretty freaked out by the scary noises coming from the fireplace.

It's just much nicer to think of squirrels wearing aprons and little red vests and talking amongst themselves about where to bury the nuts. And then Beatrix Potter's little birds can sing, "Who's-been-digging-up-my-nuts?" and "little-bit-of-bread-and-no-cheese!"

We've got someone coming in the morning with a tall ladder, a rope (so the squirrel can hopefully climb back out), and a new chimney cap. So long Timmy Tiptoes.

Something Fun(gus) for Lunch

Oh, mushrooms, how I do love thee. And now I hardly ever see you anymore since my husband hates you. Luckily he's not a picky eater and will eat anything except you, but I really wish he could appreciate your good qualities....

Once a year, I make myself a pot of Hungarian Mushroom Soup--a recipe I got from a friend a few years ago. It is so delicious and I savor it all week long, since no one else in my house wants to eat it. As the craving has been building, I've been telling my running partner about it and she wanted to try it too, so yesterday we had a little tasting party. I invited a few friends over for lunch and asked them to each bring something they love to eat, but that isn't appreciated by the rest of their family. We ended up with mushroom soup, homemade pretzels, awesome salad with pecans, cranberries, and goat cheese, and oatmeal raisin cookies. (Weirdo husbands--who doesn't like goat cheese or raisins, I ask you?!)

After being cooped up in the house for several snowy days, this was a really fun break and a delicious way to spend a couple of hours. Best of all, there was exactly one bowl of soup left, so I get to enjoy it once more. If you like mushrooms AT ALL, try this soup and you won't be sorry. The only thing I do different from the recipe is use fat free half & half instead of milk, and I omit the salt since there is plenty in the chicken broth.

What do you like to make that nobody else in your house wants to eat? Can you come over for lunch and bring some? I will make stuffed mushrooms next time...

**mushroom photo from aaaaahhhhshark.wordpress.com

Ten Years Ago...

My friend told me this morning that she and her husband had been talking about how much they have changed and grown in the past ten years. She asked, "Do you think you're a better person now than you were ten years ago?"

I could hardly even think of where I was or what I was doing ten years ago, but now I can't stop thinking about it.

Ten Years Ago:
Maddie was almost 3
Eloise was 6 months old
We lived in an apartment in Orem, UT
Rob was going to law school at BYU
I was serving in a RS presidency and Rob was the EQ secretary
We spent a lot of time with family--siblings at BYU and weekend trips to SLC and Idaho Falls

We were less than a year away from moving to Indiana and starting graduate school, though of course we didn't know that at the time. It seems like my life is divided into two parts from that year, because moving away from everything familiar forced me to really and truly be an adult.

I don't know if it's good or depressing to realize I'm doing the same mom-type things with my life that I did then. I cook, clean, read, sew, play with the kids, do laundry, work on my church calling. (It seemed like a lot of work at the time, but it sure seems easy now to clean that tiny apartment!)

But AM I A BETTER PERSON? I'd definitely say I'm stronger, both physically and emotionally. I feel like a "real mom"--even then I sometimes felt like I was playing house. I love my husband more. I've learned lots of new skills. I feel like I'm a more thoughtful person, but it's hard to know. I wouldn't go back; that's for sure. I don't have too many regrets; that's good. There's an awful lot I can't remember; is that bad?

So now I will pass the question on to you. It is kind of fun to think about and kind of uncomfortable too, because it really seems to me that I should have made more measurable progress as a human being in 10 years....

Are you a better person than you were 10 years ago?

I get by with a little help from my friends

I love my friends. I love keeping track of and staying in touch with those who are scattered far and wide (but I still can't bring myself to facebook!!)
I love the feelings evoked by conversations with true friends, who just "get" you and always know what you mean and what to say.
In the last week, I've had long talks with 3 good friends--two by long distance phone and one while completely-out-of-breath running.

Personal conversations with words meant just for me, but thank you, friends. I'm supposed to speak in church on Sunday about the still small voice, so I've been thinking about that all week. I think that Heavenly Father can speak to us through other familiar voices too--voices you love and trust can tell you things about yourself that you need to know.

And as much as I adore my girlfriends, Rob really is my BFF. I've heard women say they don't believe that stuff about a husband being your best friend...but it's true for me, truly. I've got good people on my team.

A Book That Changed Me

A friend asked me last week to recommend some books for her to read, but she asked "What are your top 10 favorite books?" As I thought about it, I realized that my personal favorites aren't all books I'd recommend to others. I think there are certain books that you read at just the right moment and they take root in your heart/mind/imagination and somehow it fundamentally changes you and your view about life.

I read "Mitten Strings for God" shortly after Sarah Jane was born in Bloomington and it changed the way I felt about motherhood and the expectations I had for myself and family. It helped me know it's okay to pull back from other pursuits, even if they're good ones. You can be a good, helpful person without volunteering for every task that needs doing. It's good to keep things simple, casual, and manageable. I originally read it from the library, but soon bought my own copy to mark and reread. Every time I open it, I'm reminded of that time in my life when I made a conscious effort to slow down a little and I'm reminded to maintain that effort.
Friends who have read it have had varied reactions, but for me, it was an important book and will remain a favorite.

Have you read a book that has changed you?

Goody Two Shoes

Goody Two Shoes: Someone who is virtuous in a coy, smug or sentimental manner.

I have a friend named Toncie Ball, a super sweet, genuine Southern lady in her eighties. She goes to church with us and blesses our family in so many ways. I love her grandma house with all the little treasures, her knowledge of southern cuisine and customs, her delight in our girls, and her bravery and optimism despite loneliness and health problems. Today Bea and I picked her up for a doctor's appointment and she had a new stick pony for Bea that she found on clearance after Christmas. Bea brought it into the doctor's office and proceeded to charm all the other patients in the waiting room (all older people, since it was a cataract surgeon).
I have often thought that if I ever go back to work or school, I would like to pursue something in geriatrics. I really enjoy older people and feel comfortable around them. One of the sweetest experiences of my life was living next door to my great Grandmother when Maddie was a baby--of course I loved her as my grandmother, but I also loved getting to know her as a neighbor and dear friend.
My parents had the inspired idea to send me around (get me out of the house!) on errands to many of the widows in the neighborhood where I grew up. I remember shoveling walks, emptying garbages, feeding cats, and raking leaves. I remember riding my bike to visit Brother and Sister Hyde. He was blind and she was slightly batty, but so nice. I'd do little chores for them and they'd give me stale candy.
I loved our little English neighbor, Ivy Buschi, and my assigned visits soon became my own idea and choice. A friend and I made up fake adoption papers and adopted Sister Buschi as our grandma. I was in 6th grade when she died and still remember the smell of her house and the sight of her swollen legs propped up on her couch, under an afghan. I treasure a small statue she left to me. It's called "Goody Two Shoes" by Royal Doulton.

All this is not to be smug about doing good deeds among the elderly, but just to say that it makes me happy to have adopted grandmas in my life.