Monsters and Mayhem

"But if ye are prepared"

2011-12-18T23:54:00.000-08:00

In the summer of 2002 we had just moved to south Texas and Nate was working across the border in Mexico everyday. Addy was turning 3 and I was very pregnant with Jack. The news was full of reports of potential dirty bomb attacks and I was anxious and unsettled, and looking back, probably very hormonal. I felt constant uneasiness. I remembered the scripture in Doctrine & Covenants 38:30 that reads, “but if ye are prepared, ye shall not fear.” I took it to heart and realized that in order to quell my fear I needed to do something, to actively engage in a project. That’s when I built my first 72 hr kit. It was bulky and did require a Little Tikes wagon to transport, but hey, it was a start.

Since then my preparedness efforts have waxed and waned depending on our situation. Small living spaces and a student budget weren’t conducive to food storage when Nate was in graduate school. But then we decided to move back to California – the state where we had been living on Sept 11, 2001.

At that time we were in process of moving out of California to Pennsylvania. Nate had already started working in Pennsylvania and was scheduled to fly home the evening of Sept 11^th. Of course he didn’t make it back to California that night. The movers were coming to pack up our house and ship out our cars the very next day. Addy was 2 years old and had no comprehension of the events of the day, but wanted to watch the footage over and over again – she found it exciting, like it was a fireworks display. And I was almost in a panic, reconciling just how much our world had changed that morning, and how my sense of peace and security were completely wiped out, all while trying to figure out how I was going to accomplish Nate’s extensive honey-do list before the movers came. But there was a young couple in our ward, the husband had been sent home from his job in one of the downtown LA towers, and the wife was Addy’s nursery leader. Thanks to them Addy and I weren’t alone, and we were ready when the movers came the next morning. The idea of moving back to California unleashed many of the feelings I had tried to bury after that experience, especially feelings of helplessness and isolation, and so I jumped into emergency preparedness and food storage as a way to eliminate the possibility of having to feel that way again.

Our preparation efforts should not just be for natural disaster, economic instability, or an unexpected change in our personal situation. We should be preparing for the time when we next meet the Lord. This Christmas season is perfect for reflecting upon the 1^st time the Lord entered in to the world, and to ponder the preparations the world experienced prior to the birth of Christ. John the Baptist was sent to prepare the people for the culmination of the law of Moses and the coming of the Messiah.

Just as the world was prepared then, the world must experience preparations prior to His second coming. But when will that time come? We don’t know His time frame. No man does. But He has told us through prophesies - recorded in Matthew 24 and D&C 45 – of the signs and wonders that the time of His coming is near. The Lord declared “He that feareth me shall be looking forth for the great day of the Lord to come, even for the signs of the coming of the Son of Man,” signs that will be shown “in the heavens above, and in the earth beneath”. These signs include wars and rumors of wars, a whole earth in commotion, the love of men waxing cold, and iniquity abounding. The Lord warned of desolating sickness, earthquakes, and famine and pestilence.

The commencement of these prophesies was fulfilled with the opening of the last dispensation by the Prophet Joseph Smith and the restoration of the gospel. Many of the rest of the signs and warnings can already be seen in our world. Numerous general authorities have warned that the natural disasters, the social unrest, and the spiritual storm of a degradation of morality are already raging and we can expect them to worsen until the Savior returns. It’s our responsibility as members of the church to prepare ourselves and the rest of the inhabitants of the earth for the Second Coming of the Lord Jesus Christ.

So how do we prepare? Of course the temporal preparation matters – we’ve been instructed for over 75 years to “Organize yourselves; prepare every needful thing” (D&C 109:8). We are to prepare with stores of food, water, clothing, chocolate . . . and we’ve been counseled to eliminate debt. We demonstrate our obedience by adhering to this counsel. But no amount of physical preparation will compensate for a lack of spiritual preparation. In his October 2005 General Conference address President Eyring taught, "We will need to have developed and nurtured faith in Jesus Christ long before Satan hits us, as he will, with doubts and appeals to our carnal desires and with lying voices saying that good is bad and that there is no sin.” We must have faith and testimony enough to make clear the eternal perspective that knowledge of our Savior, Jesus Christ and the plan of Salvation has given us. The Lord instructed us (D&C 38:9) to “Gird up your loins and be prepared. Behold, the kingdom is yours, and the enemy shall not overcome.”

President Eyring went on to suggest four ways to prepare spiritually –

The first is to feast upon the word of God. 2 Nephi 31:20 reads, “wherefore if ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life.” We try to read the scriptures with the kids to help them learn the gospel and prepare to face an ever-challenging world. Addy loves to explain the interpretation of Lehi’s Dream. And Jack is the first to tell you how cool Ammon is – but what 9 year old boy doesn’t love a story filled with swords and a healthy dose of gore? And Ellie can tell you all about Nephi getting the brass plates from Laban. Though she does prefer to leave out the part about how Nephi got Laban’s sword.

The second way to prepare is to pray always. In the Doctrine & Covenants the Savior instructs (D&C 33:17-18,) “Wherefore, be faithful, praying always, having your lamps trimmed and burning, and oil with you, that you may be ready at the coming of the Bridegroom—For behold, verily, verily, I say unto you, that I come quickly”.

The third is to be a full-tithe payer. Russell M Nelson taught that an enduring commitment to be a full-tithe payer is essential to developing enduring faith. He also reminded us of D&C 85:3, where we learn that tithing will keep your name enrolled among the people of God and protect you in “the day of vengeance and burning.”

And the fourth preparation is to escape from sin and its terrible effects. Repent, and “Stand ye in holy places, and be not moved, until the day of the Lord come; for behold, it cometh quickly (D&C 87:8). Holy places include the temple, a spirit-filled home, and the responsibility of missions and faithfully filled church callings.

I would add another preparation that has been mentioned in many Priesthood Session talks. A preparation that is specific to the brethren. Prepare to use the priesthood you hold to serve the people around you.

Shortly after we were married Nate and I were on a flight from SLC to Dallas. About an hour in to the flight a young man walking down the isle stopped and tapped Nate on the shoulder and explained that there was a sick woman on the plane that needed a blessing. He asked if Nate could help. Nate didn’t know this young man, or the sick woman. Regardless, he went with them to a galley at the back of the plane and anointed, sealed, and blessed that woman. What struck me in that moment was that Nate was ready, willing, and able – he was prepared – to give a blessing, no matter how inconvenient a time it seemed to be.

President Eyring spoke of always keeping a vial of consecrated oil close at hand so he would never have to spend potentially vital time searching for one when called upon to give a blessing. Brothers, please be worthy and willing to use the priesthood to bless those around you at any time. Remember the charge given in D&C 121:36, which reads, “That the rights of the priesthood are inseparably connected with the powers of heaven, and that the powers of heaven cannot be controlled nor handled only upon the principles of righteousness.”

The preparations we are making are not just to benefit ourselves and our own families. They allow us to obey the commandment to love and serve others. We can then become as the Nephites who were described in the book of Alma (1:30), “They did not send away any who were naked, or that were hungry, or that were athirst, or that were sick, or that had not been nourished; and they did not set their hearts upon riches; therefore they were liberal to all, both old and young, both bond and free, both male and female, whether out of the church or in the church, having no respect to persons as to those who stood in need”.

“But if ye are prepared, ye shall not fear”. It’s a scripture that you hear often, and in many scenarios. I can’t tell you how many times my parents reminded me of that scripture when I was in high school and complaining about having to study for an exam. And soon Jackson will learn the Boy Scout motto – “Be Prepared.” And of course, we use that scripture to encourage emergency preparedness. But it’s important to recognize that preparation is not inoculation. After all, I’ve spent a lot of time preparing for this talk, but my fear of standing here in front of you hasn’t been alleviated. The scripture doesn’t say that you’ll be immune from trial, or guarantee that tragedy won’t fall upon you, or even that life will go the way you planned.

We know, of course, “that the rain falls on the just as well as the unjust” (Matt. 5:45). The faithful members of the church in Japan, Chile, Haiti, New Orleans and Joplin, MO and in other areas of the world that have suffered catastrophe stand as witnesses of that fact.

What the scripture does teaches us, however, is that a person who has prepared through their lives to meet Jesus Christ, whether upon their death or when He comes again, can look upon that day with peace and joyful anticipation, with confidence waxing strong in the presence of God (D&C 121:46). This confidence comes from a combination of our efforts and the Atonement of our Savior. For we know that it is by grace‍ that we are saved, after all‍ we can do (2 Nephi 25:23).

In closing I want to share with you a prophetic witness given by President Monson. He said: “I testify to you that our promised blessings are beyond measure. Though the storm clouds may gather, though the rains may pour down upon us, our knowledge of the gospel and our love of our Heavenly Father and of our Savior will comfort and sustain us and bring joy to our hearts as we walk uprightly and keep the commandments.” He continued: “My beloved brothers and sisters, fear not. Be of good cheer. The future is as bright as your faith.”

I add my testimony to our beloved prophet’s. I know that our purpose here on earth is to become more like Jesus Christ. Peace of mind and of spirit can only be found by obeying the principles of the gospel. And in doing so we will be prepared to stand uprightly before the Lord, without fear, on that day when we meet Him again.

(From a talk given in Sacrament Meeting on Sunday, December 18, 2011.)

Wit Quickening?

2011-10-13T08:45:00.000-07:00

Love my Addy. And she's a smart one. But sarcasm and witty come-backs have never been her forte. In the last week or so, however, she's been giving me evidence that she might be changing.

Exhibit 1:

Nate was giving Addy a hard time about her height, or more specifically, her lack of height. It was all in good fun, and Addy was not slow to recognize that fact. Nate said things like:

"Don't you think it's gonna be embarrassing to go on your first date to Disneyland and not be able to ride on the big kid rides?"

and

"Do you think it would be helpful to carry a step-stool in your backpack?"

Addy giggled and fake punched her dad's arm, and then on a dime, her demeanor changed and with a calm, confident voice she said:

"Well Dad, it's not like I get my height from Mom."

Point 1 for Addy.

Exhibit 2:

Again with Nate. This time he was critiquing her food choices:

"Eww, this is gross. Why would you want to eat it? This tastes like crap!"

Without skipping a beat Addy responded:

"Really Dad? You know what crap tastes like?"

Point 2 for Addy.

This girl has always made me proud. But now she's making me boastful.

Where in the World?

2011-09-08T11:03:00.001-07:00

Here's another one for those of you who like my simple little game.

So Happy Together

2011-07-22T22:05:00.000-07:00

After three years the time had come to move Things 2 and 4 into the same bedroom. This left Thing 3 a little nervous - how ever was she going to fall asleep alone? She got over it quickly.

Rules:
Knock before you come in.
No jumping on my bed.
No laying on my pillow.

Birds,

butterflies,

and flowers.
What little girl wouldn't want a room free from pirates, cars, and fart jokes?

That leaves Jack (x2), Sketch, and Mater plenty of Leg-o room.

That's my mini monster

2011-06-23T10:01:00.000-07:00

3 years old. Isn't he yummy?

It means a galaxy to me.

2011-06-19T15:02:00.000-07:00

And Pappy thinks kids these days can't string a sentence together.

Oh, how I love this boy!

You think this is what a "puffest" dad looks like?

oops!

2011-06-18T10:07:00.000-07:00

Before:

And after:

Sack Races?

2011-05-29T12:33:00.000-07:00

Not the game I would've come up with when planning a party for superheros.

Dear Mom and Dad

2011-02-15T14:56:00.001-08:00

Feb. 8, 2011

I love you when you help me when I have a cold. I love you hug me because it fills me with complete joy. Your more valuable than anything in the entire universe. Your eyes shine like brilliant stars in the night. Your my favorite parents in the whole world. I would not even give you up for one-zillion dollars. If you would die, I would die just like a bird would mate for life. When you hug me with love, your arms are softer than anything in the universe. Your love is longer than the solar systom. I love how you make me smile and how to make me laugh. I love you to infinity and beyond. Mom, you are more gorgeous than a star. Dad, you are more tough than a planet. Your especially the parents for me. You fill me joy and love. Thanks for teaching me to ride a bike. You are always welcome to my heart. You are more fragile than glass to me. You make magic every day. Stampedes of love run in my mind whenever and wherever you hug me. Whenever at night that I am frightened you let me sleep in you bed and makes me happy and loveing. You are very important to my life. Mom, you are the queen of love. Dad, you are the king of laughter and joy. You are like a cup of hot chocolate, your love always keeps me warm and filled with love. You two are my special Valentines. Thank you for teaching me the proper way to act. Thank you for teaching me how to love and for giving me life. Thank you for your love, devotion, courage, patience and forgiveness. I cherish you both with all my heart. When we are together, my heart bursts inside and I overflow with gladness and pride. You are a gift to me. Kisses like roses, hugs like a bear, make me realize, you'll always be there. You'll always be mine and be my Valentine. Happy Valentine's Day Mom and Dad!

Your son,

Jackson

My Favorite Food Storage and Survival Blog

2011-02-01T09:04:00.001-08:00

has moved.

Angela at Adventures in Self-Reliance has moved and renamed her blog. She can now be found at FoodStorageandSurvival.

If you're looking for a down-to-earth approach and lots of creative ideas and useful tips for preparing your family for disaster (be it large-scale or of the more personal nature) then FoodStorageandSurvival is a great resource.

Oh, and don't let me forget about the giveaway she's running right now. Lots of great stuff to be had.

Line Rider Versus One-Eyed Giant

2010-10-28T13:50:00.000-07:00

by Jackson Mangum, Grade 2

There was a race that was happening at Line Rider Town. It was one of the most challenging races in the entire world. Line Rider was teamed against One-Eyed Giant from Giant Town. Line Rider was using his sled for the race. One-Eyed Giant was using his fork, spoon, and knife. Whoever won would get whatever prize they wanted: Line Rider would not get eaten by One-Eyed Giant, One-Eyed Giant would have a nibble by eating the entire town! The race was about to begin. The checkered flag went down and the race began! No one seemed to see who was in the lead. They were side by side! The race took days and nights. It was a lap around the entire world! About the same time a volcano erupted! And Line Rider and One-Eyed Giant were a mile away! Lava was bursting out into the air. When the lava reached Line Rider Town it almost destroyed town hall! But One-Eyed Giant and Line Rider were finally friends! The race was almost now finished. Was this a tie? Was One-Eyed Giant the winner? Was Line Rider the winner? Wow! It was too close. We don't even know who won? Line Rider was nervous. When everyone was not looking - gulp! That was the end of Line Rider town. One-Eyed Giant got his nibble.

Where in the world? Revealed!

2010-06-21T00:39:00.001-07:00

Remember this post? The answer is Cabazon, CA.

The view up from the base of the T-Rex.

See those itty bitty people sitting on Rex's toe? That's my people:)

My Garden

2010-06-17T18:50:00.001-07:00

My garden (like my blog) has been sadly neglected for the past year or so. It's hard to stay motivated when once happy tomato plants become gnawing posts for unknown vermin.

But returning to a familiar pastime does have its rewards. These baby grapes were hiding behind a leaf when I was out watering this evening.

Who knows? Maybe a blogging revival will reap another kind of fruit of my labor . . . oh bleghck! That's more sap than I can stomach.

The 1st Rule of Fight Club

2010-06-17T16:51:00.000-07:00

I think a little purple eyeliner becomes me.

I had some of you going there, huh? Come on, admit it. I'm sure you remember my excessive bruises and broken toes back in the Red Raider days. You're thinking I was running my soap-box mouth to the wrong person and finally got what was coming to me. The truth is hardly that sensational. This violence was self-inflicted during the latest of my hazardous domestic goddess pursuits. I guess a superpail in the face is a decent price to pay when it means I end up with a new food storage pantry that looks like this:

Totally worth it. Even if I do end up with a scar.

Here's an soap-box afterthought: Notice the lack of stitches? This wound-closure was brought to you by a Band-Aid Single Step Liquid Bandage swab and a butterfly bandage. Total cost? About $1. No one can accuse me of over-consumption of health care, leading to the escalating cost of medical services.

Out of the great state of Maryland

2010-06-16T14:06:00.000-07:00

came Thing 1. And from Thing 1 came a 5th Grade State Project, a mini float in the spirit of the Rose Parade. Addy highlighted the Baltimore Inner Harbor, complete with the National Aquarium, a few tall ships, and a buzzing Navy jet.

She also paid homage to Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven" and the most delicious Chesapeake Blue Crab. I've yet to figure out how the raven managed to cook the crab.

Dad, I think we've been robbed.

2010-06-16T13:57:00.000-07:00

Jack went to bed having seen this:

And woke to find this:

What he didn't notice was that this:

Had become this:
Cool, huh?

Seriously?

2010-06-16T13:53:00.001-07:00

Would someone explain to me what they were thinking when the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston decided to put this on the lawn outside their entrance? Frankly, it's just creepy.

I got your camera!!

2010-06-16T13:49:00.000-07:00

And I know how to use it! Well, kind of.

The baby days are done

2010-06-16T13:30:00.000-07:00

Nothings works faster to age a Thing than a first haircut. Nate would prefer to wait until they're 2 years old, but with Jack I could only hold out until he was 18 months. After a day with multiple old ladies commenting on my cute little girl I demanded that Nate whip out the clippers. I guess long hair and cute neck-hugging curls are more acceptable in California, considering Sketch will be 2 on Saturday and I've only had one comment thus far. By a man in my ward, no less.

The only way I could figure to keep Thing 4 restrained was in his high chair.

Some day he'll hate me for letting the curls get so long . . .

Amy's a pro with the clippers. The mini M&Ms were her idea. They worked great until the chocolate melted and mixed with the hair clippings. Then it was just gross.

Time for a "shauie" to clean off the hair and the chocolate. My baby boy is now a little boy.

And the curls are gone. Funny how that little change changes everything.

Blog Giveaway at The Survivalist Blog

2010-05-19T14:08:00.000-07:00

M.D. Creekmore over at the The Survivalist Blog – a survival blog dedicated to helping others prepare for and survive disaster – with articles on bug out bag contents, survival knife choices and a wealth of other survival information is giving away a Go Berkey Water Filter System (a $139.00 value)! To enter, you just have to post about it on your blog. This is my entry. Visit The Survivalist Blog for the details.

Food Storage Dinner Pack Giveaway

2010-05-19T13:37:00.000-07:00

For the first time in almost forever I won something, thanks to a most interesting blog I happened across, "Adventures in Self-Reliance." That something was a cool S.O.L. Survival Pack. And no, S.O.L. doesn't stand for what I thought it did . . . whoops. It stands for "Survive Outdoors Longer". My new mini-pack came in the mail today and it's cute as a multi-use tool. Thanks, Angela.

But now they're at it again, and I want to win again, so I'm gaining an extra entry by blogging about the Augason Farms Dinner Pack giveaway. Wouldn't one of these look perfect on a shelf in my soon-to-be new food storage pantry? Oh, come on. Just humor me please.

Where in the world?

2010-04-12T22:38:00.000-07:00

Any guesses?

It's always best to plan ahead . . .

2010-03-17T13:12:00.000-07:00

Ahh, the joys of email. I do think it is helping to raise the quality of communication between Thing 1 and I. Here's the latest:

I was wondering if the next time we go on a plane, I could lead the family through the security and everything. I want to do this because over the summer Jack is going to go to Nana and Papa's house for a baptism treat. After he stays for a week or two, how is he going to get home? I want to be able to fly over by myself, and pick him up. Then we could fly together home. It won't be like last time when it was all confusing (when we couldn't figure out how to get me home). I could just fly out and stay for a while, then we could fly back home. I know it's not going to happen for a few months, but it's always best to plan ahead. I'll just have to wait and see what you think, and what Nana and Papa think.

ADDY

I do think she may have a future in negotiation.

Currently running through my head

2009-10-31T22:11:00.000-07:00

Life-sized hanging man-form in spider cocoon - $20
Almost life-sized skeleton suspended in a 7' spiderweb - $10
4 large foam tombstones - $14
9' fabric spiderweb - $7
Skeleton "Haunted House" sign - $5
36" spider - $4
Scary music CD - $3
Snickers snack sized candy bars - $10
5 pumpkins for carving - $12 + $12 for a farm field trip that yielded the 5th pumpkin
2 black light bulbs - $1/1, the other borrowed
5 strobe lights - borrowed
1 fog machine - borrowed
2 large suction-cup spiders - borrowed
A selection of other spider, skeleton, & blood themed decorations - leftover from previous years
7 trick-or-treaters - thoroughly underwhelming.

Halloween candy doesn't taste nearly as good as I remember it tasting when I was a kid. It's definitely not worth the guilt it brings on.

And finally . . . I don't want to decorate for Christmas!

Blatant Self-Serving Post

2009-08-27T14:15:00.000-07:00

I want one. Except it's hilly here. But I still want one. Feel free to click through to buy me one.

Lazy days at the lake

2009-08-26T21:17:00.000-07:00

For as many times as we've been to the Mission Viejo Lake this summer it's pathetic I don't have more photos to show for it.

Things 1-3 and Julia, roasting mallows for Sch'Mores (at least that's the way Amy says it. And since she's the one who gets us in the gate . . .)

Wise little Thing 4. Grass doesn't invade a diaper the way sand does.

Peter Piper . . .

2009-08-26T20:48:00.000-07:00

. . . picked not-quite-a-peck of not-yet-pickled peppers to munch on in our garden. He's the fattest green caterpillar I've ever seen.

Unless you include animated green caterpillars. Then this guy wins, hands down.

Thing 3 provides scale for reference. Don't think I employed fancy angles or lens - I'm not that savvy a photographer.

Now what would you do if you had a houseful of Things and a garden you were trying to maintain through the end of a pitiful growing season?

You'd uproot a pepper plant (still supporting said caterpillar), put it in a plastic container, set it in the window, and read it a story, of course.

And what better story than the Eric Carle classic, "The Very Hungry Caterpillar"?

Animal Planet in my front yard

2009-07-17T10:33:00.000-07:00

I thought I lived in the suburbs so I could avoid scenes like the one I just witnessed.

I was lying back on the sofa, talking to my sister about her elementary school drama, my upcoming Hong Kong trip, her upcoming island cruise, kids' birthdays, ward camp . . . all the typical chattiness, when she mentioned a bone she needed to pick with me. I didn't have to think too hard before I knew exactly what she was talking about - my lack of blog activity.

Like I wrote previously, blogging has kinda hit the back burner for me. My drive, my motivation, by need to write has all but evaporated. 6 months ago if I hadn't written in 48 hours I'd feel the pressure mounting, a pressure that could only be released by clicking that "Publish Post" button.

Now I'm having a hard time working up the energy to even care. Maybe it's because school's out. Maybe it's because I've been traveling or Nate's been traveling, or we've been planning impending travels. Maybe it's because the sun is always beating down and the only moisture to be felt is from the humidity in the air or the sweat that is running full course down my back by 10 in the morning. And I really don't like to be hot.

Or maybe it's because my hormones have finally started to normalize after weaning Thing 4. Maybe those hormones were the secret power behind my blog. Oh, I hope not.

Pathetic to say, it's been over a month since Thing 4 turned 1 and this is the first mention I'm making of it. We've been to Arizona and Utah to visit family and I've posted no photos. Thing 1 had her first piano recital, Things 1-3 started swim lessons, the coyotes are back but the bunnies are still here, the garden is struggling to survive, the grass is dying, we're on water restrictions, the CA budget is on life-support, the federal government is trying to rewrite the rights guaranteed by and/or imagined within the Constitution . . . all that and more. And I don't really care.

Well, now that's not true. I do care. I just don't care to write about it all.

And that kinda makes me sad.

I started writing this blog for the same reason that many people blog - to keep a record of my rants and raves, my thoughts and feelings, our life's happenings, the funny/shocking things my Things say/do, the photos I take or receive. And I feel like I did a pretty good job of it for the last year or so. But now it's becoming a chore. And I don't want it to be. So rather than force myself to write/post and dread it all the more, I think I'll wait until the mood strikes me. Until then, faithful readers, don't hold your breath.

But for now, let me finish what I started. The gruesome scene I just witnessed needs to be shared. Well, not really. But I want to share. It was just that disturbing. I even took pictures, although my windows are dirty enough you probably can't see much in them.

Like I said earlier, I was on the sofa chatting when I saw wisps of feathers, or fur, now that I think about it more, gently falling from the tree. I sat up to investigate and saw the most magnificent of creatures, engaged in the most basic of instincts - dinnertime.

I'm not sure what the brown falcon was eating - another bird, a mouse, a small rabbit . . . don't know, don't care. My lip curled in disgust and my stomach churned, and yet, like motorists on the freeway creeping past an horrific car crash, I couldn't look away.

Little time passed before the falcon realized he was being watched. I guess he'd had his fill, because then he was gone. Curious as I typically am, I've yet to go outside to find his leftovers. I think the great outdoors and the animal kingdom is often best left alone.

4 Things and a Monster

2009-07-09T09:59:00.000-07:00

are back. The month of June whomped me pretty well. The usual end of school craziness, Nate's travel, and my roadtrip kept me thinking about everything other than this blog.

But now there is so much to tell that has gone unwritten. Maybe I'll catch you up in the weeks to come. Maybe I won't. Unfortunately my memory is lousy, and so are my photography skills. (For fab photo skills check out Lindsey's.)

For all you faithful fans I'll do the best I can with only putting in the effort I want to.

Addy's Father's Day Thoughts

2009-06-22T21:04:00.000-07:00

What I didn't mention in my Fathers' Day talk was that Thing 1 actually got up early one morning and wrote a talk for Sacrament Meeting. I was stunned. I really didn't think she would take me seriously. But, as the scans below prove, Addy really wants an iPod.

Father's Day - my thoughts in talk

2009-06-21T09:30:00.000-07:00

When Bro. McAfee first approached me about speaking in church I was in denial. That worked for a little while, considering my original assignment was pre-empted by Elder Garlock’s farewell address. For that reason alone I think every young man and young woman, as well as most of you couples need to serve missions.

But then he gave me a new assignment to speak today. I was a little angry, because I had wanted to be in AZ with my sister this weekend. But that’s the problem with a roadtrip – there’s no change fee at the gas station.

Then earlier this week I transitioned into the bargaining stage. I actually tried to find a surrogate speaker in Addison. You see, she wants an iPod and she is looking for any and every opportunity to earn an extra buck to apply to her growing iPod fund - in fact, I haven’t changed many poopy diapers for over a week now. So sensing an opportunity I offered her $2/minute if she would give my talk today. After a couple of hours of quiet deliberation she realized that this talk was worth at least 24 poopy diapers and she agreed to speak on my behalf. But when she learned that she would also have to write the talk she wavered. It seems changing a couple dozen poopy diapers is more fun than giving a talk in sacrament meeting. On this matter either Addy has wisdom beyond her years, or I am incredibly immature because we definitely think alike.

With today being father’s day, I want to wish my perfect husband who is a perfect father to my above-average children a happy father’s day. I also need to thank him for agreeing to write this talk for me once he recognized that I was slipping into the depression stage. I am the only person I know who married better than Nate did. I also wish my own dad, who’s far away, and all of the dads here today a happy father’s day.

I want to start with a quick story. Many of you are familiar with the tale of Johnny Lingo. For those of you who aren’t, allow me to quickly review. Johnny Lingo was a young, handsome, successful man in the pacific islands. It was said that with his wealth and position he could have any woman he chose. Mahana was a homely girl whose father was very concerned he would never be able to marry her off. As per the society’s custom, marriages were arranged and agreed upon by the groom and the bride’s father. The father was paid a number of cows by the groom in exchange for his daughter’s hand in marriage.

Rumor spread across the island that Johnny Lingo planned to seek Mahana’s hand in marriage. Mahana’s father was shocked that someone like Johnny would want his ugly Mahana for a wife. Others speculated that Johnny, being a shrewd negotiator, just wanted to get the cheapest wife possible. Mahana’s father decided to request 3 cows but, if necessary, to settle for just 1. The villagers joked that he would potentially have to pay cows to get Johnny to take her off his hands.

“Mahana, you ugly, get over here” wasn’t enough to draw a nervous and defeated girl out of the trees when Johnny arrived for the negotiation. No matter. Johnny immediately offered 8 cows. Mahana’s father was speechless, but agreeable.

With a gentle voice and kind words, Johnny persuaded Mahana to leave her home, and the island with him. Months later they returned and hosted her father in their new home. Mahana had transformed into a beautiful, confident, graceful woman – the woman Johnny had always saw her to be, and had allowed her to become through the way he treated her. Mahana’s father was flabbergasted, outraged - “You only paid 8 cows for a 10 cow woman!” he cried. A woman, that just months earlier, he was willing to give away for only a single cow.

I have always liked the Johnny Lingo story – maybe it’s because my childhood piano teacher played the role of “gossipy village woman #1” or because I had a friend whose name was unfortunately similar to Mahana, and as such, we had a good time teasing her. But, I was asked to speak on building strong fathers. Surprised? I shouldn’t joke because I have to admit I feel wholly inadequate standing up here, in the throes of giving a talk on building strong fathers, when of the potential fathers I’m raising, one still sleeps with a stuffed dog and a Mater night light, and the other still drinks out of a bottle and wears those previously mentioned poopy diapers.

In preparing for this talk, I looked to the scriptures for examples of strong fathers. The Book of Mormon is full of excellent examples. From Lehi we learn the importance of obedience to the commandments of God. Jacob taught Enos to pray with fervent honesty. King Benjamin counseled his children to provide for themselves. Alma is the perfect example of the unconditional love and hope a parent should always have for their child. Mormon, in his final days, taught Moroni to listen to the spirit and trust that Heavenly Father would direct his path.

As parents we have a sacred responsibility to the Lord to teach our children the gospel and to pray, to recognize the spirit, and to love the Savior. We have been counseled that by fulfilling these responsibilities we increase our children’s ability to withstand temptation and make righteous choices - such as serving a mission and living worthy to marry in the temple.

While preparing, I also spent a lot of time reflecting on my own experiences growing up (both then and as I continue to grow up even now), thinking about the lessons I learned from my own dad, from my father-in-law, and from watching Nate father my kids. From those, as well as the examples in the scriptures and the lessons of the gospel, I put together a list of 12 additional ideas for dads (and moms and grandpas and grandmas) on how to raise 10 cow daughters.

1. JUST LISTEN: When Addy was little, she loved the nursery rhyme “Baa, Baa black Sheep.” She also had a terrifying fear of bath tubs that we eventually learned stemmed from this nursery rhyme. “Baa baa black sheep have you any wool, yes sir yes sir 3 bags full, 1 for the master, 1 for the dame and 1 for the little boy who lives down the drain.” Yes, being sucked down the drain with the little boy can be very frightening. Young kids have fears and concerns that are often irrational. But to them they are very real. As a parent you don’t always need to solve their problems, explain them away, or even spin a bright side. Sometimes the most important thing you can do is to just listen. What she has to say matters and is worth hearing, even if it doesn’t always make sense. Just listening to her helps her gain and maintain self-worth. If you really try to hear them and understand them when they are young, they will be more likely to confide in you when they are older. If you marginalize their opinions or dismiss their fears or feelings they will eventually stop bringing them to you and instead they’ll find someone else to confide in.

2. SPEND TIME ONE-ON-ONE: Family home evening, family vacations, and dinnertime all serve as great bonding moments for the entire family. But group dynamics are always different and less emotionally intimate than one-on-one interactions. When I was 11 I traveled to Canada with my Dad while my siblings went to California with my mom. I remember feeling like my Dad’s world revolved around only me for a change – a feeling that even now as an adult I relish in. Spend time alone with your daughter to hear her individual voice. One-on-one you will experience a side of her that is available at no other time. And that will give both of you a deeper understanding, love, and respect for one another.

3. BE HER BIGGEST FAN: We are all busy and it is so easy to simply bring the kids along for the ride which is our own life. Instead, jump on the roller coaster that is her life. Whether it is art or dance, drama or basketball, your daughter will dabble or dive into a multitude of interests. Know her passions and become her biggest fan. Any lack of enthusiasm from you won’t go unnoticed. She is looking for your validation and approval – freely and genuinely give it. If you try hard enough, I promise that you can learn to appreciate almost anything your daughter loves, unless it’s the piccolo. Nate will never love the piccolo.

4. MAKE MEMORIES WORTH TRIGGERING: Have you ever noticed how certain sights, smells and sounds can trigger vivid memories? Whenever I go to Utah and stay in Nate’s grandma’s old room I can hear her laugh and feel her death-grip of a hug, even though she died almost 4 years ago. You can create similar memories for your daughter. While I recognize that boys and girls need to be treated differently, I caution you not to tie what you teach to gender. Just as your sons need to learn how to cook a meal, wash clothes, and iron a shirt, your daughters need to learn how to change a tire, drive a stick shift, and throw a ball. Trust me on this, years later when your daughter hears the smack of a ball hitting a glove, she will think of dad and remember special times talking and laughing while playing catch.

5. BE HANDS ON: When kids are young, dads provide the best physical, rough house play. But kids, and especially daughters, eventually grow out of wrestling on the floor with dad. As she grows your daughter will pull back, but don’t let that be an excuse to not be a hands on dad. A hug goodnight, a kiss on the forehead as you leave for work - your physical contact reminds her that you love her and that she is special. Don’t let her seeming apathy fool you. She notices and appreciates and needs your hug - even as she rolls her eyes.

6. SET HIGH EXPECTATIONS: Your daughter is a child of God and that defines her potential. You should have only the highest of expectations for her. Most of us only reach as high as we are expected to, so set the bar high. Obstacles and achievement work to build confidence. Challenge her to see a glimpse of what she is capable of becoming. But in the process, celebrate her progress, encourage her through setbacks, and assure her of your unconditional love. Don’t underestimate the impact of yours kind words and support.

7. TEACH HER TO WORK: Whether in the home or out, your daughter needs to know how to take care of herself. Don’t give her everything she wants, or everything she asks for. Instead, let her experience the struggle and satisfaction that comes from earning her own way. Help her to find value and take pride in learning to support herself. Teach her to manage her finances.

8. LET HER FAIL: Especially in today’s world, both boys and girls need to learn that actions have consequences. Let your daughter fail and learn to be accountable for her actions. Protecting her when she is young will only leave her more vulnerable when she is older.

9. SET LIMITS FOR HER: Kids make a lot of mistakes. And sometimes the best, the most “need to be heard” response, requires yelling - but not very often. In fact, as I’ve heard quoted, “Shouting to make your children obey is like using the horn to steer your car, and you get about the same results.” Psychiatrist Bruno Bettelheim observed, “We become most upset with our children when we see in them aspects of our own personalities of which we disapprove.” That being said, your daughter needs limits and guidance. I can say from personal experience, there were times when the backbone I needed to stand up to my friends, to do what was right, came from being able to say, “I can’t do that, my dad would totally kill me.”

10. SET LIMITS FOR YOU: As a dad, you work hard to provide for your family. Chances are, you also work hard to provide for your ego. The rewards of professional accolades, pay increases, and promotions have a direct link to many dads’ self-worth - and that acknowledgement for career success can be relatively immediate. But keep in mind as you work the extra hours that you are passing on time with your family that you will never get back. In isolation, each missed meal, dance recital, or ballgame is relatively insignificant, but collectively they can change everything. Chances are, your kids will mess up most days. They will require your discipline, your patience, your time, your energy - and the rewards of that investment can be seemingly few and far between, taking much longer to materialize than many of the rewards of career. But I am confident that when you see your daughter on her wedding day, you will either be grateful for the strong relationship you have with one of the most remarkable people you have ever met, or you will wish that you had better savored that precious time when you were still the most important man in her life.

11. TELL HER WHAT SHE’S WORTH: Adolescence is full of struggles for every child. One day everything is perfect and wonderful, and then friends change, boys are mean, and you think everyone hates you. If one good friend can make all the difference in school, how much more of a difference can a deep, raw knowledge that you are valued above anything else to your dad make? Having a dad that loves you, that tells you are beautiful, that laughs with you, that knows you are smart, that believes in you – it might not make the hurt of the day go away, but it will help to keep it in perspective. It’s hard to fully value yourself when you question whether other people value you. So don’t let her question it. Tell her what she’s worth. Help her develop the confidence and self-respect that enables her to expect to be treated appropriately by everyone she comes in contact with. Just remember, she needs to hear all this before her world melts down because you’re unlikely to get credit for pep talks when she’s in the middle of a teenage girl crisis.

12. TREAT HER AS A DAUGHTER OF GOD: Your daughter is a daughter of a loving Heavenly Father. She needs to know that. Do your best to love her as her Father in heaven loves her. Love your wife. Your daughter will likely model an expectation for her own marriage relationship from what she witnesses in yours. Are you treating your wife the way you would want your daughter to be treated by her husband? Does she see her divine nature through the way you interact with her and with her mother? As her father, you are uniquely equipped to serve as the earthly example of your daughter’s relationship with her Heavenly Father.

I have covered a lot of points today and if you are like me, it will be hard to remember most of these by the end of the week. So if I could leave one encompassing thought it would be this, from Matthew Chapter 6 verse 21, “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”

It is my testimony that our greatest happiness in this life will come from the emotionally intimate relationships we build with those we love. Treasure things of an eternal nature. Treasure your children with all of your heart. Make both the quantity and quality of the time you invest in them reflect the feelings of your heart. And if you do, you will receive some of the greatest treasures this life has to offer - plus 10 cows per daughter.

A Rite of Passage

2009-06-14T20:24:00.000-07:00

"Ode to Joy," by Addison Mangum.

(Actually, it's by Ludwig van Beethoven. But that day it was by Addy.)

I think this was Thing 1's first piano recital. I really can't remember for sure. That probably means I should've started blogging years before I did. At least for posterity's sake, if not for all of yours.

Thanks to the dogs

2009-06-05T09:11:00.000-07:00

I spend a lot of time on Facebook. Too much time. Especially when Nate's out of town. There's just something about almost-instant, paranonymous adult interaction (uh, I really don't intend for the description to make it sound like a questionable or otherwise inappropriate pastime - sorry.) Even if it's just a peek into the minute musings of people I haven't seen or talked to in years.

But then it's time to go to bed. Last night:

11:30 pm - the dogs next door started barking. While they aren't quiet dogs, barking at night is a little uncharacteristic. I wasn't too worried, however, because while their owner is in the midst of moving back in after a 9 month remodel, she still isn't spending the night.

Midnight - I intend on going to bed but get distracted by my new handheld GPS and have to attempt initialization.

12:30 am - I close the bathroom window after yelling at Dolly and Booker to stop barking. I would have used stronger language except I was worried the neighbors would hear me. And what kind of example would that be?

12:35 am - I turn on my sound machine and climb into bed.

12:40 am - I contemplate calling Nate to ask at what point it's OK to call the cops.

12:41 am - I decide I'm going to find the non-emergency police dispatch number and program it into my phone first thing in the morning.

12:43 am - I consider climbing out of bed, turning on the computer and searching for that number right now, but know that as soon as I do the dogs will curl up and go to sleep.

12:45 am - I wonder if Daisy, the old lady that lives on the other side of my house has already called the cops.

12:46 am - I really, really hope Daisy has already called the cops.

12:49 am - I'm a little worried. Why exactly are the dogs barking? Pam's not home. There aren't coyotes in the neighborhood anymore - the proliferation of cats and rabbits attest to that. Are said rabbits decimating my garden? Are there squatters in Pam's garage? Is there an intruder working under the radar, relying on the distraction that incessant barking creates? I'm a little more worried - should I get up and close the balcony window? But what if he's standing out there waiting for me to get up and look out the window?

12:53 am - I can't believe I let those dogs arouse paranoia.

12:55 am - Like popcorn ready to be taken out of the microwave, the dogs' barking slows down.

1:03 am - Sweet doggie silence

1:05 am - I'm startled awake by a strange humming sound. I turn off the sound machine and hear a helicopter approaching. So do the dogs. Barking resumes.

1:08 am - The helicopter is gone, but the dogs keep barking.

1:12 am - The helicopter comes back. My patience goes out the window. I'm so mad and so tired I consider screaming serious obscenities out the window - both at the dogs and the helicopter. But then I'm the only one who would sound like a raving lunatic. And I would have to get out of bed. Argh! The futility of it all!

Eventually the dogs stopped barking, the helicopter flew away, and I went to sleep. I just don't remember when. It was a long night.

Bring in the mail

2009-06-04T22:01:00.000-07:00

Home time can create a monotony of chaos in my house. Laundry, meals, school work, yard work, cleaning, bill-paying, child-rearing, errand running, grocery shopping, argument mediating, tattle-telling, child beating (oh, did I say that? I meant "disciplining"), karate lessons, piano lessons, dance lessons, yelling, crying, complaining, whining . . . Most days my excitement level fluctuates between barely-awake and would-rather-be-sleeping.

But then the mail is delivered. I'm selfish about that trek to the mailbox. It's my time, my relished chore. It's something I look forward to for its potential to shake up my day.

Often the mail consists of no more than solicitations for charitable donations from the lady who used to live in this house and has been dead for 3+ years. Those, along with supermarket ads, fast food flyers, and old lady catalogs (enough with the Vermont Country Store and orthopedic shoes already) are standard fare. Sometimes there are bills and other annoyances - IRS audit notifications, and jury duty assignments that are better left in the mailbox.

But then there are days like today. Days rare enough I count this one as a first, but hopefully not a last. Days where my mailbox serves as a giver of simple excitement and pure pleasure. Days where my mailbox does more than just shake - it rocks.

$20 of free shopping, waiting for blissful discovery. I'm already scheduling some quality alone time for after Nate gets home.

This one's for Grammie

2009-06-04T17:06:00.000-07:00

Thing 3 as Tinkerbell - she thinks tulle is scratchy and necessitates an underdress.

Harvest time

2009-06-03T22:33:00.000-07:00

This week has Nate navigating the exotic dietary delights (or stomach-turning horrors, depending on your palate and country of origin) of mainland China while I'm at home trying to work up the motivation to fix something other than mac & cheese and frozen pizza for the Things. Don't misinterpret my lack of motivation for complaint. Have no doubts, I'd rather be eating starchy, overly-processed packaged foods than these delectable dishes (all of which have been sampled, if not devoured by Nate on his previous trips):

Pigs' feet

Pigs' intestines

Fish - with eyeballs, scales, fins, and tail

Fish bones

Goose intestine

Chicken feet

Anyway . . . tonight I was out of ideas (energy, desire) and instead turned to a Penny Saver flyer advertising buy one/get one footlongs during the Grand Re-opening of a nearby Subway. The Things were almost thrilled with their turkey sandwiches, though Thing 2 whined about the lettuce on his, conceding (and more importantly shutting his mouth) only when promised half a cookie for dessert.

Thing 4 refused to cooperate entirely. It didn't help that the only highchair in the restaurant was being used to prop open the bathroom door while an employee mopped out standing water. I was irritated, holding a squirmy Thing on my lap while trying to both eat my sandwich and feed him pieces of another. It also didn't help that a second employee apologized for the backed-up sewer every time he walked by.

Um, I'm no expert, but considering there was no smell, nor color to the water on the floor, I doubt the problem was the sewer. In my opinion the real problem was Mr. ESL employee not asking for translation assistance before talking to customers who were trying to eat their dinner without puking.

Gratefully we made it home after soiling the restaurant floor with nothing more than shredded lettuce and rejected baby bites. I'm still trying to figure out what was so objectionable about a plain turkey sandwich . . . With nothing more than a 1/4 cookie in his belly Sketch was still hungry. I felt bad because the poor little Thing had lacked for green veggies all day. I sent Things 1-3 to bed and headed to the garden for a quick harvest job.

So far the peas are the overachievers of the garden. The carrots and radishes are stunted and the green beans are thin and scarce, but I'm not giving up on them yet. While I was picking, Sketch was sitting.

And happily eating dirt. With these culinary cravings he might be better satisfied in China with his dad.

For those of you concerned about the well being of my youngest, fear not. While in the bath, Sketch ate approximately two dozen fresh peas.

The green eyed monster

2009-06-02T23:03:00.000-07:00

I really don't like:

Sheila
Lauren & Sue
Lisa & Jackson
Giampaolo
Lauren

Why? Because all of the above star in current running Microsoft commercials. They're "laptop hunters", scouring electronic stores for a new computer that meets their specific needs. Each looks at an Mac, but decides they're too slow, or too expensive, or too small, or too white . . .

Unsurprisingly enough, all the hunters find their perfect machine in a PC.

Then they're told, "You find it, you keep it" and are handed the cash needed to buy the computer.

Where was Microsoft and their commercial film crew when I was looking for a new computer?

Garden update

2009-05-29T21:48:00.000-07:00

I promised to post pictures once my garden got to a braggable state. Check these out:

Blueberries - Although the plants have only been in the ground a couple months, one is already producing plump, sweet berries. More surprisingly, the ravens have been leaving them alone.

Artichoke - Prior to planting I wasn't aware of just how big these plants would get. Then we visited the garden at Mission San Juan Capistrano. It was there that I learned that within a few months these will be big enough we will lose all view beyond the corner of the yard.

Romaine - I was a little worried that these went into the ground too late in the season. So far they're growing well and should be harvestable. I'll just need someone to tell me when that time comes.

Pumpkin - Thing 2 wanted to plant "prize pumpkins" - the kind that grow to be hundreds of pounds. We said no. He's just gonna have to deal with standard sized Jack-o-lanterns this year.

Zucchini - We've been warned, but we didn't listen. All 9 of our plants are now flowering. I suspect before too long they'll take over the whole yard.

Cucumber - I'm disappointed in the progress these plants have made. Maybe they're just slow growers?

Bell Peppers - These haven't grown much either, but at least they haven't died. If they ever fruit we'll potentially have 6 didn't varieties.

Green Onion - I planted these throughout the garden to repel pests. The added bonus will be when we get to eat them.

Corn - It's not even the 4th of July and already they're knee-high.

Grapes - We planted a couple of these on a whim. They were bare-root and dead looking when I found them on clearance at Home Depot for $2.49 each. Now they've leafed out and doubled in size. Hopefully someday they'll bare fruit.

Navel Orange - I'm beginning to suspect our efforts at watering have been insufficient for the past couple of years. The biggest positive externality of a new vegetable garden has been a bumper crop of itty-bitty baby oranges.

Sugar Peas - These have outgrown the mesh we installed for support and are now starting to overrun the trampoline.

Already we've harvested more than a dinner's worth of peas. Before planting I probably should've checked to make sure the neighbors even like peas.

Tomatoes - We planted 16 plants of 3 different varieties of tomatoes. So far only the Sweet 100s have ripened, but the Early Girls, and the Momotaros are well on their way.

Strawberries - Berries are starting to emerge from the blossoms. Now I've got to figure out how to keep the kids away long enough for them to ripen.

Broccoli - After they were eaten to the ground in an early season bunny attack I contemplated ripping them out and starting over. But that requires work. Instead I figured I'd give them a couple months to prove their resiliency. It looks like they've made a leafy recovery, although I still wonder if they'll produce any heads.

Side Note - The bunnies made me really, really mad. So mad, in fact, that I started wishing for the return of the coyote pack that used to live in the drainage ditch on the hill behind our house.

Not being able to find a pack of wild coyotes to reintroduce into the neighborhood I opted for a controversial bunny deterrent I read about in an online gardening forum - cayenne pepper powder. Apparently bunnies don't like it because it burns their paws, and their mouths, and their eyes. Bunnies have even been known to claw out their own eyes in an attempt to stop the burning. Poor bunnies. Maybe next time they'll leave my garden alone.

Carrots - The tops are tall and bushy, but the carrots themselves are still tiny. I'm holding out hope for veggies worthy of a salad.

Compost Bin - I put Nate to work building one after I spent a boat-load of money on soil amendment, fertilizer, and mulch. Now it sits (and spins) in the backyard and collects our fruit & veggie scraps, weeds, grass clippings, and anything else that will compost. I've become such an enthusiastic composter I have another black water barrel waiting to be transformed for its second life as a compost tumbler.

The Sketcher Scoot

2009-05-27T20:38:00.000-07:00

He's not particularly efficient, but does he really need to be?

She's not missing anymore

2009-05-26T13:00:00.000-07:00

Thing 3 is safely posted, compliments of another relatively painless trip to JCPenney's Portrait Studio.

Thing 3 is now 4 years old. She enjoys hair pretties, twirly dresses, and sparkly blue lipstick. She loves to sing and dance, and looks forward to resuming ballet class after the commencement of her studio's over-the-top recital (in which she is not participating because her mother thinks productions of this magnitude are ridiculous for 4 year olds who can still barely walk without tripping over their own feet and falling down.)

The big 3-5

2009-05-22T23:57:00.000-07:00

Nate - do you believe this was the only recent photo I could find to post?

Hard to believe, huh? What, with the paper plate and the pink turban . . .

. . . Happy Birthday, sweets. Hope it was at least a comfortable one.

Four years + 2 weeks

2009-05-22T16:59:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday my Ellie Bean, my Smelly Bean, my lovely little Bean Machine.

Four years filled with laughing and dancing, singing and playing . . . promise me a thousand more.

Not again . . .

2009-05-22T13:05:00.000-07:00

Three years ago Thing 1 came home from 1st grade with a note from the school nurse. She recommended Addy see an optometrist. While Nate had also suspected that Addy's vision was impaired, the slew of pediatricians she has seen over the first 6 years of her life had each insisted her eyes were fine. The optometrist disagreed. She diagnosed Addy with moderate amblyopia and prescribed a strong prescription to stave off the potential need for chemical or physical eye patching.

Since that time Addy has had 5 pairs of glasses.

The first pair, while super cute (with a miniature Ariel on the each of the temples), required frequent trips to the optician to have a lens put back in the frame. Weekly trips. That pair was replaced as quickly as allowable by insurance reimbursement.

The second pair was more grown up. Stylish and expensive. They would have lasted a while, except Addy chose to scratch the lens with a sharp implement in a fit of anger and frustration (we think.) We've yet to figure out exactly how she did it.

The third pair included photo chromatic lenses - those geeky lenses that darken in sunlight. Addy had been complaining that everyone else got to wear sunglasses and she didn't because she had to wear regular glasses. Squeaky wheel. That pair of glasses was victim of a faceplant during PE at school. Polycarbonate lenses really hold onto embedded asphalt.

The fourth pair were identical to the third pair. We liked them that well. Unfortunately quality control was an issue. The bridge failed. At least Costco optical offered to replace them free of charge.

Unfortunately the fifth pair wasn't identical to the third and fourth. By that time the manufacturer had quit making the frames. Can't imagine why. Instead pair #5 are real grownup glasses, as Costco only carries 5 kids' frames and none of them lived up to Thing 1's discriminating tastes.

All that in just 3 years.

Then I come home from book club to find this taped to the front door:

For now pair 5 is being held together by a twisted paperclip. Pair #6 will come along once these are made in her size.

Know thine audience

2009-05-18T17:00:00.000-07:00

It was my turn to drive carpool to piano lessons today. I dropped Porter and Addy off and took the rest of the Things to Target. It was a typical visit - returns, popcorn and Icee, unnecessary purchases (facilitating the next visit's returns, of course.)

The exit to the car was less than ordinary, however. I saw them before I even made it through the glass doors. Two young adults, clipboards in hand, were scouting potential targets (pun intended.) I only had 8 minutes before piano lessons were over, and a 5 minute drive to get there (assuming all green lights - but you know what assuming makes for.)

But I'm a nice enough person. I figured 3 minutes of my time was a generous contribution to whatever cause they were promoting.

When I got closer I saw the name on their t-shirts - Greenpeace.

Seriously?

Greenpeace in south Orange County, CA?

Don't they know that this is perhaps the most conservative of all California counties? That people here have lots of money to spend on frivolous, over-priced things (like Republican candidates) and usually couldn't care less about grungy tree-hugging and whale-saving?

This isn't the place where all those pseudo-celebs in excessively expensive designer clothing are driven in Priora (that's plural for Prius) to awards shows where they spout soapbox ideals about carbon credits and green energy to a television audience who cares more about baby bumps and rehab stints.

We're the county south of Hollywood. People here wear excessively expensive designer clothing and drive Bugatti(s)and Maybach(s) and spout capitalistic ideals about deregulation, free-market economies, and oil-drilling in ANWR. But not me. I just wear Levi's and drive a minivan.

Poor kid. He approached me and opened with ,"You're a mother, so of course you care about mother earth." Yeah. And I'm stupid too. If Greenpeace had their way, the entire human race would be obliterated to spare any further destruction of "mother earth".

He followed with, "Kimberly-Clark is a manufacturer of Kleenex and other throw-away products made by clear-cutting the last ancient forests in North American." Uh-huh.

"And where would these forests be located?"

"Oh, they're in British Columbia, and the Canadian government hasn't been responsive to our concerns about the clear-cutting. They weren't responsive to our concerns about clubbing baby seals, either."

Really? Seal pups now?

Feel free to prove me wrong, but I suspect most mothers in this world are more concerned about the plight of abused children, smacked around for no reason other than the violent, bully nature of adults, than a baby seal clubbed over the head, instantly put out of its misery prior to being skinned and eaten so as to prevent the starvation of an indigenous society. At least this mother is.

I'm really not so presumptuous to assume (again with the assuming) that my opinion should have any influence over long-suffering cultural (and/or culinary) practices. Yeah, baby seals are cute and soft and cuddly (if their momma seals aren't close enough to witness said cuddling), but so are calves. And piglets. And chicks. And fishies (according to Thing 1.)

And I too would be unresponsive if some holier-than-thou feel-good organization tried to tell me that I can't club them over the head in order to feed my family.

In a best-case scenario, anyway.

More likely I'd club the big-mouth over the head, skin and eat them for dinner, and then cuddle with my saved animals.

But I digress . . .

"So who owns these forests?"

"What?" the poor boy asked in a strange, surprised tone.

"Who owns the ancient forests that are currently being clear-cut?"

"Well, I'm not really sure. Probably the British (flustered kid, he meant Canadian) government. I've never actually been asked that before."

And that would be the problem. Or maybe the indicator.

Can a uninformed, self-righteous mouthpiece really expect to sway public opinion if they don't know who they're talking to, or even what they're talking about?

My 3 minutes were up, so I walked away after leaving him with my parting, capitalistic opinion - I believe if you want to save something, you better own it.

Poor kid. His only response, "I should probably find out who owns that forest."

Yes, my boy, you should.

If my experience is any evidence, by tomorrow Greenpeace will be back in LA County.

The End

2009-05-14T17:51:00.000-07:00

Day 13 - Departing from HNL.

All are alive, coughing and feverish, and unenthusiastic about a red-eye flight.

In the middle - Saying Goodbye

2009-05-14T17:45:00.002-07:00

Grandma-Great Day with all the Things.

Sketch snoozing on Darren. Poor baby was still miserable.

No, it's not eye black. The blisters popped (or more likely were scratched off) and scabbed over.

The shave ice wore off. Thing 3 was back to feeling lousy.

Pappy and the Things.

All are alive, worn-out, and ready to be back in their own beds.

In the middle - Day 11

2009-05-14T17:37:00.000-07:00

Sunday is a day of rest.

And toenail painting.

And a visit to the Laie Temple.

All are alive, resting, and hoping to feel better.

In the middle - Day 10

2009-05-14T17:24:00.000-07:00

Kayaking comes before packing up.

Courtney and Jack, into the deep blue sea.

Ellie waited her turn, just not in the water.

Nate & Thing 4 went home in the middle of the night. Sunburn and fever means a sleepless night. And then the blisters appear.

Thing 3 felt lousy too.

But shave ice at Matsumoto's makes (almost) everything better.

All are alive, some are sick, all are well-sugared.

In the middle - Day 9 Happy Birthday

2009-05-14T17:09:00.000-07:00

Ellie & Mikey share this birthday. And this year they shared it, camping at the beach.

Things 1-3 were supposed to be in the sun, and were prepared with lots of sunscreen.

Thing 4 was not supposed to be in the sun. He had no sunscreen.

So he got a pink face. But Grandma-Great Day still thinks he's cute.

Mikey and Ellie share a birthday, and a chair.

Barbie clothes. Hurray!

And a Tinkerbell dress-up. What more could a little girl want?

All are alive, smoky, and so excited to have a new 4 year old.

The middle - Day 8

2009-05-14T16:36:00.001-07:00

On Thursday we checked into our campsite at Malaekahana.

Our yurt from the outside . . .

. . . and the inside. The grownups and Thing 4 got to sleep in here.

The simple little grass shack. The boys (including Darren) got this one the first night.

Our other little grass shack - the really cool one with a front porch.

Inside the shack - I'm not sure what the massage table is for. The girls (including Courtney) were in here the first night.

The view from the porch. This is beachfront living at its cheapest, i.e. no amenities.

The boys are thrilled to be at the beach.

Fresh fish for dinner, complements of a random spear fisherman with too many to take home.

Don't let Grammie fool you. Hawaii doesn't really get cold at night.

This camping trip was all about simplification - even with the S'mores.

Dark fell and crab-hunting on the beach commenced. It took a little while before the Things 1 & 2 were comfortable with scooping handfuls of crab out of the sand - maybe crabs are too reminiscent of spiders. Thing 3's shrieks were enough to send all the crabs back into their holes.

Darren had no problem handling the creepy crawlers.

All are alive, sandy, and ready for bed.

The middle - Day 7

2009-05-14T16:30:00.000-07:00

Pappy took us on a tour of the Natural History Musuem at BYU-Hawaii.

Things 2 & 3 wanted to touch and play with all the stuffed animals.

While Thing 1 more fully investigated her love of sealife.

After the museum we drove to the airport to pick Nate up. What better way to finish up 8 hours of travel than with a stop at the Aloha Stadium Swap Meet? Asphalt and hot sun - Nate was thrilled, I'm sure.

The Things enjoyed chilled coconut juice straight from the nut - at least the first couple of sips. Then they wanted someone else to hold their enticing, yet stomach-ache inducing treat.

And Thing 4 got a bloody nose.

All are alive, hot, and pretty happy.

The middle - Day 6

2009-05-14T16:28:00.000-07:00

At 9am I took the Things to Hukilau beach to witness the launch of the Iosepa double-hull voyaging canoe. Speeches, chants, songs, hula - all in true local style.

95 minutes later the boat was still sitting in the sand.

And that was the end of our cultural enrichment. The Things had no interest in watching anymore. Thing 2 cried when we left because he wanted to ride in the boat. And my back was killing me. After the previous day's hike I really didn't need Sketch in the Baby Bjorn for a minute longer.

All are alive, impatient, and ready for real fun - not the cultural kind.

The middle - Day 5

2009-05-14T16:12:00.000-07:00

My dad had to ship a package at FedEx by the airport, his car battery was dead, and I wanted to hike Diamond Head - a triumvirate of reasons to throw the kids in the car and drive to Honolulu.

"But Diamond Head is really hot. Why don't we hike the Aiea Loop Trail instead" my Dad said.

With no objections, we dropped the dry-ice encased salivettes at FedEx and drove to Keaiwa Heiau State Recreation Area. Courtney, Mikey, and Minami met us in the parking lot closest to the bathrooms - a necessity for kids who've been in the car for an hour.

We hiked up the steep road to the trail head, passing more than one parking area on the way. That was at 4:30pm. 3 hours, 5 miles, and 6 cooperative kids later we emerged from the forest in near darkness.

Don't be fooled by the general happiness of the people in this picture. We were only 20 minutes into the hike when the photo was taken.

This one was taken only a couple minutes later. And you know how kids are - pleasant one minute, monsters the next 127.

It was still light out when we reached the stretch looking over Interstate H-3. Yes - Hawaii has interstates, even though they are technically intrastates, or more specifically, intraislands.

See the city lights in the background? It was DARK by the time we made it off the trail. If it weren't for the full moon we'd probably still be wandering out there.

To say we underestimated the scope of hiking 5 mountainous miles with 6 kids is an understatement.

All are alive, exhausted, and some are questioning their personal intelligence.

The middle - Day 4

2009-05-14T15:47:00.000-07:00

After a horrible night with Thing 2 - high fever, dehydration (and forced ingestion of Pedialyte with subsequent puking), coughing, restlessness, lethargy (while not at first logically paired with restlessness, somehow they work together in strange correlation) - Things 1 & 3 went to church.

I didn't.

And neither did Things 2 or 4.

I can't imagine anyone wants to see pictures of what that day looked like. So I'll end here.

All are still alive, some are sick, a couple are happy.

The middle - Day 3

2009-05-14T14:55:00.001-07:00

Alligator Pond.

Things 1 & 2 snorkeled and jumped off rocks into the water. Thing 3 watered the sand and played with a little boy who was very excited to find a friend other than his dad. Thing 4 sat on a floaty island on the shady sand and complained when I wouldn't let him eat whatever delicacies he could still reach.

All are alive, well (though Thing 2 is starting to cough), very happy, and worn out.

The middle - Day 2

2009-05-14T14:27:00.001-07:00

Laie Elementary May Day - a widely anticipated event consisting of overly enthusiastic students performing dances from around the world and camera-happy parents rushing the stage. I was not one of those parents.

Thing 4, still a little wary of the unfamiliar Uncle Darren.

Hot-tubbing with Auntie Courtney (Thing 2's must-do) after an afternoon jaunt at the beach - to which I was not invited. Hence no photos.All are still alive, well, and happy, albeit tired.

The beginning

2009-05-14T14:11:00.001-07:00

Day 1 - arrival at HNL airport.

All are alive, well, and seemingly happy.

The day could have been worse . . .

2009-05-11T23:24:00.000-07:00

. . . especially if the matches Things 1 & 2 were playing with had ignited and burned down the house.

Nate was site-seeing so Grammie had to go Joan Crawford on Things 1 & 2 and their cousins.

In other news:

Thing 1 (almost 10 years old) fell to the ground and cried when told she couldn't ride a skateboard without putting a helmet on first. Will the drama never end?

Thing 2 fell off the bike he was riding, removing skin from his knee and big toe. All the parentals' neighbors were witness to his girly screams.

Thing 3 has double earaches and a body-wracking cough. I suspect being confined for 6 hours at 30,000 ft. tomorrow night will be an exercise in crisis management.

Thing 4 has blisters on both cheeks (and an on-again, off-again fever) because an abundance of adults leads to inaccurate assumptions about sunscreen. He's grumpy right now, understandably so.

At last the day is over . . .

Where the freeway ends

2009-05-01T15:31:00.000-07:00

After a harrowing couple of days, one of which included cross-pacific travel with 4 Things, I'm finally back in Hawaii.

The air is warm and salty.

The sky is blue, heavy with clouds.

The beach (and the myna birds) calls to me.

Decompression commence.

Earth Day

2009-04-24T22:54:00.000-07:00

Rah rah rah . . . yeah, whatever. The environmentally altruistic may "save the earth" out of the goodness of their hearts, but I still believe financial motivations are the easiest way to promote behavioral change.

Regardless, every holiday deserves a party when you're in Kindergarten. Thing 2's class celebrated by parading around the school in "trash hats".

Umm . . . creative?

While I didn't see any of the other kids' hats, I think the one I made was the best - milk jug, yogurt cups, shredded newspaper. Thing 2 ended up looking like this guy:

Come to think of it, Thing 2 usually acts quite a bit like this guy. Coincidence?

Cute as he is, when it comes to the 3 Rs I think I'd prefer to make a habit of recycling, instead of reusing.

Yellow Belt

2009-04-24T19:02:00.000-07:00

A couple nights ago Thing 1 tested for her yellow belt in Shito-Ryu Karate. I wanted to take pictures, but we were so hurried trying to get out the door that I forgot to grab the camera. Not that I could've gotten any good shots - all but the students had to observe from outside the dojo.

Present at the testing was Shihan Fumio Demura, a kind old man with a playful demeanor. As a "special guest" I knew he was important, but it wasn't until I started researching Shito-Ryu Karate that I figured out who he is - the director and chief instructor for Shito-Ryu Genbu-Kai International (an organization that encompasses 25 nations and thousands of members) and Pat Morita's stunt double. Pretty cool. Once judging was complete he instructed the students in an hour-long class. By the end of the evening he had white belts throwing black belts to the ground - Thing 1 was practically glowing with pride and excitement.

Thing 2 was less enthralled. While he wasn't quite ready to test, Jack still wanted to tag along. His interest lasted for all of 10 minutes. The rest of the time was spent feeding a vending machine, running up and down stairs, hopping off his chair, and chatting with strangers. Nothing new.

Today Thing 1 received her yellow belt and her Certificate of Proficiency along with the rank of Jr. Kyu (9th). I am so excited for her - and a little jealous. She's on her way to becoming a lean, mean, (and very cute) fighting machine.

A big thank you to Sensei Tracy. Addy is more confident - both in body and in mind. She worked really hard learning Kihon Kata Ichi and now will move on to the advanced class.

I suspect before too long Thing 2 will quit running stairs and hopping around the room so he can join her there.

Hot Hot Hot

2009-04-20T16:45:00.000-07:00

Today has proven to be an uncomfortable reminder that summer is just around the corner. Right now weather.com says the temperature outside is 99 degrees. And it's 4:50pm. And my car has been parked out on the driveway because the garage is still littered with plastic floor remnants, boxes the plastic floor came packed in, carpet, carpet pad, miscellaneous tools, and MDF scraps.

And that means my dashboard can now substitute for my cooktop at dinnertime.

Too bad today was piano lesson day. Poor Things. We waited in the car outside the home where Addy takes lessons. I did find a shady spot to park, but Sketch wasted no time in letting me know that he prefers to spend his afternoons in an environment less like a convection oven.

The Things spent the half-hour climbing all over the car while I sat and played "Bejeweled" on my cell phone. Flashback to high school. Although the technology (and the radio station) was different, the rest was a nostalgic throwback - the heat, the humidity, the searing breeze, the sweat dripping off the back of my neck . . . let's just say it wasn't the most pleasant of memories. At least I now have a car with engine-powered AC, instead of an open window and a 25 mph windburn.

Maybe living on the "mainland" has made me a wuss. Although I remember the days where I found no discontent in sweat-drenched clingy clothes and blazing sunshine, I long to not have to repeat them. You may think that's why I live in Southern California.

72 degrees year round, right? Just like the "Real Housewives of Orange County" is an accurate sampling of the women that live in this area.

Uh huh.

That's exactly what the California tourism (and taxation) board would have you believe. How else would they draw ignorant and unsuspecting visitors (and residents) to our lovely state? It sure isn't with outstanding infrastructure, efficient government, and affordable real estate.

Reality is, we have furnaces and AC units for a reason. The winters can get cold, and the summers can get hot. And vise versa.

I just wish wall and attic insulation had been as high a priority for the guy that built my house 4o years ago.

Houseguests

2009-04-18T22:46:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks ago we hosted two fluffy members of Thing 2's Kindergarten class. "Peep" and "A-Doodle-Doo" spent the night in a box on the dining room table. They were noisy and messy, and so very cute.

Alas, after only 1 night "Peep" and "Poop" moved on to another classmate's home. If only we could've kept them to feed the garden - that chicken manure is expensive!

9 months young

2009-04-18T22:24:00.000-07:00

Or not. As of tomorrow Thing 4 is officially 10 months old. But these fabulous photos are better late than never, right? My itsy-bitsy baby is still teeny-weeny. His stats put him in only the 20th percentile, but with 4 new (and very sharp) teeth I'm sure he'll make weight soon enough.

Slippers from Grammie

2009-04-14T21:44:00.000-07:00

The three big Things felt left out last time Grammie came to visit. She brought yarn and needles, and spent time making baby booties to give as gifts. But why not booties for bigger babies?

Grammie indulged and now the Things rest happily with warm tootsies.

Mini-Nate

2009-04-14T19:02:00.000-07:00

It appears the apple didn't fall far from the daddy tree.

I have no illusions as to whose genes are the bullies in our family's pool.

The Little Dutch Boy

2009-04-12T13:47:00.000-07:00

Food storage and emergency preparedness have held a back-of-the-mind interest for me since our advent into the salary-earning adult world. Granted, there wasn't much we could do during our years of yo-yo-ing back and forth across the country. Space, use, transportation - all were insurmountable issues. I was content to admit my interest, then admit my defeat.

After 9/11 my interest, and paranoia, were heightened. But I wasn't sure what I could do, or even where I should start. Thing 1 was just 2 years old and we were in process of moving from California to Pennsylvania. Living in transition, an old house requiring time and money, and a new pregnancy kept my attention focused elsewhere.

And then we were in process of moving again - this time to south Texas. Months of pregnancy-complicated bronchitis, selling our PA house, building a new TX house, living out of suitcases at Nana's and in a Texas motel, working in Mexico . . . we had too many complications to worry about anything other than where our pillows was currently located.

My desire to prepare was reignited after the June 2002 announcement that al-Qaida had attempted to construct and detonate a dirty bomb in the US. Not only did I lack a permanent home, I also lacked any sort of disaster preparation - no evacuation kit, no temporary shelter, no food supply - I didn't even have the recommended duct tape, needed to seal windows and doors in case of attack. My panic started to get the best of me and the helplessness I felt was almost palpable.

You know that saying - If ye are prepared ye shall not fear? Elder L. Tom Perry spoke of it in 1995, then President Gordon B. Hinckley again in 2005. I felt the only way I could rest easier was to act, to prepare.

That was the first time I assembled my 72 hr evacuation kit. Nate will tell you it was a little more than over-the-top. But I didn't care - the hatchet, pocket fishing kit, space blankets, (and much more) helped me sleep better at night. I did start to wonder how we'd carry it all, if ever we needed to snatch and run. Uh . . . one problem at a time.

After we settled into our new home I shifted my focus to food storage. I participated in a ward Relief Society activity where we sealed rice, flour, dry milk, and pasta in mylar pouches. That was a good start, but I still didn't know where to go from there. How much food did I need? What should I store? How long would it last? An answer to one question just led to more questions, and not nearly enough answers.

When Nate went back to school food storage had to go on the back-burner. All the space issues came back into focus. Our tiny apartment barely had room for our bodies, let alone extra rice and wheat. But that's OK - everything has a time and a season, right?

So now is that time and season. Food storage and emergency preparedness are a priority - was the gardening post any indication? If not, just wait until I rotate my 72 hr kit - the pictures will be very enlightening.

Anyway . . . on to the story that prompted this whole post.

Since we moved to California I've been purchasing commodities in bulk for long-term storage in mylar-lined superpails. Maybe it's a subconscious admission of length of expected residency in this state. Regardless, available space in my coat closet is becoming scarce.

A few weeks ago I bought 50 lb bags of wheat, corn, rice, and beans (unsurprisingly, the beans are for Nate.) I stacked the bags on the floor in the kitchen to await repackaging. I thought my biggest concern was rodents - that's why I didn't store them in the garage. Yet again I underestimated Thing 2.

One morning Jack came running upstairs, crying. He said the wheat spilled all over the kitchen floor. I figured what's done was done and getting worked up about it before I surveyed the damage was counterproductive. Instead, Jack hung out with me while I finished getting ready (or maybe it was I still needed to pull my butt out of bed.) Regardless of the exact scenario, Thing 2 was upstairs with me, Sketch was still asleep, and Thing 3 was downstairs all by herself.

And then the lamentation began to waft upstairs. A small, 3 year old voice wailing indistinguishable complaints. Oh, what could be the matter?

Jack's response was nonchalant enough - Ellie was holding the wheat with her hand so it didn't spill anymore. Who knew the little Dutch boy (girl) lived in my house?

Such a helpful little girl, and so very biddable to her brother's requests.

I made Jack take Ellie's place for the photo documentation. While his emotions may have been authentic, the expressions were completely staged.

How did this minor catastrophe occur in the first place? Jack was "exercising his muscles" by lifting the kitchen chairs over his head. His youthful exuberance resulted in the chair flying out of his hands and onto the bag of wheat. The result was a small puncture wound in the paper bag. At least that's the way he tells the story.

I guess I should be grateful a bag of wheat was the only casualty.

A side note: Since Thing 2 perpetrated this accident it was his responsibility to clean it up. While I may have asked for a broom and dustpan, Jack had his own idea for an implement to assist his efforts. His request?

A spoon.

My favorite toy

2009-04-08T23:25:00.000-07:00

Things 2 and 3 each received a hand-crank LED flashlight for Christmas. I've since purchased two more to keep on either side of my bed in case of earthquake, fire, or other emergency. Although, now that Sketch has appropriated one for his own amusement at bedtime I should probably go buy another. Hey, as long as it puts him to sleep . . .

This flashlight is cheap and reliable entertainment. Safety is almost secondary (as a purpose for the flashlight - in case that wasn't clear.) I've yet to meet a kid who doesn't think this is the coolest toy ever. I guess there are few things more fun than huddling in a tight, dark closet with a wind-up flashlight on a muggy afternoon. Around and around and around and around and around . . .

So now I'm stocking up for birthday party season. Best part? I never have to buy batteries.

A new pet

2009-04-08T21:41:00.000-07:00

It's been just over a year since Sasha left. I finally acquiesced to the Things' request for a new pet (in all honesty, the request was Nate's.) This one gets fed twice a day and sits quietly on the counter until it's molded into a loaf pan.

Sourdough starter - quiet, low maintenance, and it feeds the fam. With 4 Things to clean up after, why would I ever go back to keeping a drooling, pooping, farting, shedding, barking, licking, biting dog?

Anime Ellie

2009-04-07T21:16:00.000-07:00

Subtlety has never been Thing 3's strong suit. Give her a hot pink makeup kit and the superhero disguise emerges.

Thanks Nana.

I want to be a farmer

2009-04-05T23:00:00.000-07:00

At least that's what Nate told one of my friends. He may be off the mark, but probably not by much.

Since we got married and I was introduced to the potential bounty of Utah's earth by Nate's parents I've had an attraction to growing things. Or at least an attraction to attempting to grow things. I can't say I've been very successful. Usually my dirt is crappy and I end up over-watering. I think my house plants are most happy when I go on vacation and leave them be. So I'd say my thumb, while not black, probably tends toward yellow. But at least I try.

I think right now Nate wishes I wouldn't.

Two and a half years ago we moved into this house in the land of the endless summer. The previous owner had been here since the home was built and had spent much time and money on the landscaping. Or maybe she hadn't - she owned a local nursery - so maybe the plants were at cost and quite possibly by the end of the day she was too tired of looking at organic material and preferred to just sit in front of the TV.

Regardless, our yard was full of plants - few of which were species I had ever seen before. Research has proven fruitful, as have some of the trees. We have:

a pomegranate,

a fuyu persimmon,

a pineapple-guava (a distant, exotic cousin of the guava family, with edible flower petals),

and a naval orange.

We've also got a plethora of decorative trees:

weeping juniper

something pruned like a poodle.

coastal pine - also pruned like a poodle.

crepe myrtle - too early to bloom

holly

blue spruce

osmanthus heterophyllus (false holly) - I don't understand the obsession with the poodle-dos . . .

another pruned tree/shrub thing

african tulip - it hasn't bloomed this year. By the end of June it should have gigantic orange blossoms like this:

cedar - although it looks like Charlie Brown's Christmas tree to me

japanese maple

We've got flowers and shrubs:

dwarf nandina

some kind of daisy

columbine - it grows wild and survived a bout with RoundUp (purely accidental, of course.)

azaleas - the big one is WWII era, according to our next-door neighbor.

asparagus fern and alstroemeria - at some point they should flower.

grass

euryops daisy - I butchered it a couple weeks ago, but it's coming back.

gazania with slug damage.

some other flower I can't remember the name of

My yard is a veritable botanical garden - assuming you can ignore the rampant weeds, noisy trampoline, and Things running amok. You'd think with the vast variety of plants I'd be content to leave it alone. But that's not the case, much to Nate's consternation. We (and when I say "we", I mean Nate - under my direction, of course) have planted:

a satsuma mandarin tree (clementine),

a lime tree,

and a nectarine tree - it's the stick with a yellow tag.

We (again, Nate) also recently planted 2 varieties of blueberry and are looking for black and raspberries - apparently planting season is earlier in the year, so I haven't had much luck.

But the most exciting (again, exciting for me) is the 70' x 6' garden we (again, Nate) put in about a month ago. In preparation we (I) ripped out bougainvillea and ivy-like vines and we (Nate) tilled in 5 cubic yards of topsoil, chicken poop, and gypsum to help break up the native clay.

Now we've got arugula, broccoli, cauliflower, strawberries, carrots, celery, radishes, tomatoes (3 varieties), beans, peas, grapes (black and Thompson seedless), corn, bell peppers, spinach, romaine, artichoke, cucumbers, pumpkin, and zucchini.

If I had more energy I'd add photos - but the plant-lings are still too small to admire much. Don't worry, as they become bragable I'll post pics.

A good friend is gone

2009-04-05T17:38:00.000-07:00

I finished the 2 hour series finale of ER just a few minutes ago - it's only taken 3 days to get through. I guess I wanted to drag it out as long as possible. But the Things are tired of the "doctor show" and want to watch one of their own kid shows. And so now I commemorate this momentous occasion with a blog post.

I'm a little teary-eyed. Don't laugh. I've known and loved ER for almost 15 years - longer than I've known and loved Nate. It's been a reliable 10/9c anchor to my Thursday evenings - at least since the time-suck that was college ended and before my initiation into the liberating world of DVR.

Now I say goodbye to Tony Gates, Neela Rasgotra, Sam Taggart, Archie Morris (who knew a red-headed white boy could sing like that), and all the others. You are gone - lost forever - only to be remembered in nostalgic syndication on TNT.

I hate reruns.

Now I need to find a replacement - something to fill the void - and all the available space on my DVR. Ideas? Suggestions?

Anyone got a tissue?

Something Out of a Bad Dream

2009-03-28T21:43:00.000-07:00

Lauren is in town right now. That means yummy meals, often-swept floors, and free childcare. Not one to let an advantage go untaken, Nate and I went to a movie last night.

"Taken" tells the story of a naive girl (the antithesis of Shannon on "Lost") on an ill-advised trip to Paris who is kidnapped by ruthless human traffickers. Never fear; Super-Butt-Kicking-Preventer-Dad (Liam Neeson) springs out of retirement, wasting no time in eliminating the bad guys, one by one, until he shoots an arab sheik who is holding a knife to the surprised, grateful, and slightly drugged daughter's throat.

Later in the bathroom I overheard a goggle of teenage girls mystified in how a super-hot guy like the one in the movie could, or would, ever lure an unsuspecting girl into such a horrific situation.

"Of course nothing like that could happen in the idyllic US of A." (I've taken liberty with their words - if they used the word "like" it definitely wasn't as a simile.) Call it my maternal instinct (or maybe I'm just old,) but I couldn't leave without informing them that living in the US doesn't make them immune from the dangers perpetrated by evil people. I'm sure they got a good laugh out of the weird "know-it-all" lady in the bathroom who intruded on their conversation . . . yeah, I'm definitely old.

After my good deed of the evening we went to Daphne's Greek Cafe for a light meal. I should've remembered that there's no such thing at "lite" when it comes to Greek food. We had gyro plates - meaning a little bit of pita, a small cup of tzakiki sauce, and a lot of lamb - sweet, soft, beautiful little lambs. While the tasty meat is seasoned well and hits the spot I try not to think about what it's really made of. Instead, I'd rather delude myself into believing it's rabbit. Furry little broccoli-eating rodents . . . they deserve to be eaten. (More on that in a later post.)

Thanks to a very large, movie theatre-sized Diet Coke I had to make another potty run after dinner. And that's where my bad dream was realized.

Remember the night before the first day of junior high? The night where you toss and turn because of swirling dreams of bullies, hazing, and communal showers after PE? My nightmares went just a little bit further - I used to dream about open bathrooms with communal toilets. Sorry, that's probably more information than you wanted to know. But actually having the dreams isn't any more comfortable.

And neither is opening the door to a public restroom and seeing two toilets in full view. Finding one sink, two toilets, and no partitions (and no evidence of there ever having been partitions) was expected, unnerving, and definitely uncomfortable. I may have had physical privacy (after triple checking the door lock) but there was no psychological privacy.

Through giggles Nate got to hear all about the bizarre experience. It did leave me wondering . . .

Do people really pee in public groups (or duos as in this circumstance?)

Creepy.

Try as I might, however, I couldn't get Nate to go check out the men's restroom.

The new computer blues

2009-03-25T12:43:00.000-07:00

I'm currently engaged in a love/hate relationship with this new HP of mine.

First and foremost, I love the speed. It's all about speed with me - no time means no patience. And this brand new processor with ample RAM means no waiting. I love the size of my new screen - who knew how much I was missing with that puny 13" screen on the old IBM? Now I've got 16 diagonal inches for my fabulous viewing pleasure. I love the smooth, silky feel of the touch pad - complete with a scroll bar so my finger doesn't get tired holding down the right-click button. I love the distinct number pad and the speakers - oh my gosh the speakers! I suspect taking advantage of my itunes library directly from my laptop may turn out to be an extremely pleasant listening experience.

But first I have to download itunes. And skype. And my Google toolbar.

As of yet I've only installed one of my printers and that's only because it's new enough it came with a Vista install disk. I haven't tried my photo printer because I think my time is better spent elsewhere (while still neglecting my Things, of course.)

My scanner won't install because a compatible driver can't be found, except that when I try to install an updated driver Vista tells me that the scanner already has the best possible driver. But the scanner software won't open because it doesn't have a driver. And again, and again, and again. I suspect this won't be my only "loop of insanity" problem while dealing with Vista.

I'm also having a problem with Adobe Acrobat 6.0 Standard. Apparently it won't run on Vista. Well, you may ask, what would make Acrobat compatible with Vista? Oh, only a $90 upgrade to version 9.0. Yeah, not doing that.

Then I happen to find some Windows XPS Writer available in my device manager under the printer category. Is this Microsoft's attempt to squash Adobe? I've never heard of it before, and if I haven't then doesn't that mean most people haven't? And if no one else is using it, then what good is it going to do for me? The cynic in me says Microsoft and Adobe conspired to prevent Acrobat 6.0 to work in Vista in an attempt to make more money for Adobe and/or eliminate the .pdf forever. Makes lots of sense, huh? Strangely enough, after the morning I've had that logic makes perfect sense to me.

Oh, and did I mention that I can't find my Office 2003 software disks? I'm starting to think they came with a time sensitive self-distruct feature . . . maybe that's what the dust at the bottom of my file cabinet was . . .

Argh! It's all just another one of those Microsoft money-making conspiracies.

Anyone know how to transer XP from my old faithful IBM?

Saying Goodbye

2009-03-22T22:55:00.000-07:00

My computer is dying.

After five and a half years of reliable service it's dying a slow and arduous death. It's now succumbing to the siren's call of a simpler existence - a retirement with days full of Spider Solitaire played by 9-year-old fingers.

Most days this IBM takes time and patience to wake up and get moving. Opening a browser window is a process that requires much pondering on the part of the CPU (really - I can hear it thinking in the background.) And for some reason Word won't consider retrieving a document without permission from the printer - if it can even find the document through its shortcut.

It's not as if I'm surprised. I'm fully aware that my laptop is old. But I haven't been ready to let it go.

I've taken what may be futile steps to prolong the useful life of this well-used machine. I run anti-spy-ad-crap-ware and registry cleaning software almost daily, I do a full shut down whenever I'm not actively working and whenever the keyboard gets too hot - I've even moved all my photos and music to an external hard drive.

And yet it's not enough.

No matter what I do I can't seem to regain the glory days - those days when this laptop was shiny and brand new, an expensive tool in Nate's business school education. Back then it was significantly faster and more powerful than any computer we'd previously owned (it better have been, considering what it cost.) I eagerly anticipated every second of available screen time so I could avoid having to use my dinosaur (4 year old) desktop that employed a retrofitted ethernet card to get online.

I'm sure you can imagine the expectancy with which I looked forward to Nate's graduation and new job with its accompanying computer. The day this laptop became mine was a very happy one.

At long last those happy days are now gone . . .

I've lost all patience with this once-loved machine. If I have to stare at that little white "I'm ignoring you while I think about whether or not I want to respond" box at the upper left corner of my browser/document window I'm gonna throw this too-heavy, too-hot, too-old, too-lazy piece of c%@p across the room and through the wall.

Good thing my new laptop arrives tomorrow.

After months of denial, frustration, and aggravating research I finally bit the bullet and bought a new computer. And yet I'm still apprehensive about the quality and reliability of this new machine - can it possibly fill the void left by my geriatric IBM? I sure hope so - otherwise my walls better watch out because my best throwing days may still be ahead of me.

Self discovery

2009-03-20T13:37:00.001-07:00

Thing 1 took this "Quality Quiz" at a recent Activity Days gathering. Maybe self-awareness is the first step in personal growth?

My favorite is "Eating". That's a great quality to have . . .

And I'm not sure why she thinks she needs to develop her sense of humor. I think she's pretty stinkin' funny.

Missing . . .

2009-03-20T00:23:00.000-07:00

My life is a little less funny now.

Pudd'nhead Nathan has been removed from the blogosphere.

I don't know you, Pudd'nhead. Finding your blog was serendipitous. I took for granted that it would always be available for poignant thoughts, intellectual musings, and the occasional mindless entertainment. But it's gone now. And I miss it.

Where are you, Pudd'nhead?

Please come back soon.

Can't say no . . .

2009-03-17T20:52:00.000-07:00

I tried.

I really did.

I wasn't looking for an opportunity to serve my school community. In this school district just increasing the student population is service enough. Enrollment has dropped by 2200+ students in the last three years alone. That, along with a projected budget shortfall of $13 million, has brought about the scheduled closing of 2 local elementary schools.

My Things' school isn't closing. It was originally on the short list for consideration, but was left off the short-short list.

Yay for us! I love our school. It's only 9 houses away and Things 1 & 2 walk most days. The convenience is huge - not to mention the stellar test scores, the engaging teachers, and the active PTA.

And that last one would be my problem.

For the past couple years I've served as Auditor on the PTA board. I took the job as a favor to a friend that moved unexpectedly - a friend who felt some strange moral obligation to find a replacement for her elected position. But now my 2 years are quickly coming to an end - and 2 consecutive years are all you are allowed to serve in any given position. Yay for me!

Unfortunately for me, however, the tenure of the Treasurer is also coming to an end.

A week ago a woman from the 2009/10 PTA board nominating committee called to ask if I would take the position next year. I declined - packing two little kids to the two-a-month early afternoon meetings is a complication I don't want to deal with.

But then I made a fatal mistake.

I told the woman I would consider taking the position if, and only if, they couldn't find anyone else to do it.

I guess that sealed my fate. Why, why, why, why . . . why can't I just say no and leave it at that?

Thanks to my inner-sucker, as of this morning I have officially been guilted into functioning as next year's PTA Treasurer.

Monster Monkey

2009-03-03T21:46:00.000-08:00

Uh oh.

See Jack? I told you the cabinet doors weren't strong enough to swing on. (Notice the door DIDN'T break off at the hinges?)

Big-mouthed monsters

2009-03-03T11:50:00.000-08:00

This morning I schlepped the 3 youngest Things with me to the mechanic for a long overdue oil change. I love my car doctor - he gives regular customers 4 free oil changes a year.

I guess it's a preventative care philosophy applied automotively. Makes sense - he builds a relationship of trust through my frequent (or not) visits so when problems arise he'll be the first one I call.

Regardless, it means I no longer look for (or take advantage of) free or discounted oil change coupons. And unfortunately, that means I am failing in my responsibility to regularly maintain my vehicle.

But that's not the point of this post. Here's the point . . .

While at the car doctor/mechanic Thing 2 wanted a drink of water. Not a drink from the water bottle I brought with us, but rather a drink from the water cooler in the corner with those hard-to-resist red and blue release levers.

Unfortunately the only cups available were styrofoam coffee cups. I told Jack he couldn't get a drink because I didn't want him to use a coffee cup - not because I cared that it was a cup meant for coffee but rather because it was easier than telling him I didn't want him messing with the water cooler levers. That reasoning would've worked only to incite an argument. And a mess.

My easy-out came back to bite me in a matter of minutes.

The proprietor walked into the waiting room and proceeded to pour himself a cup of coffee. Jack looked up from his coloring book and bluntly spoke, "Heavenly Father says no coffee."

Needless to say I was mortified.

Geoff (the car Dr.) didn't quite understand Thing 2's comment (likely because of poor enunciation) and replied, "What was that?".

I told Jack to hush.

Geoff said, "No, that's OK. He can tell me."

So again Jack said, "Heavenly Father says no coffee."

Geoff looked at me, a little puzzled. I wasn't sure how to respond - it's not like this guy was looking for an explanation of our doctrinal beliefs when he started jonesing for his morning jolt.

But Thing 2 had to open his big-mouth. And now I was in a very uncomfortable situation.

My solution? Diffuse and ignore - I told Jack to mind his own business.

Jack responded, "But coffee makes it hard to sleep."

Geoff laughed and replied, "But I'm trying not to sleep this morning."

At that point Jack went back to coloring and Geoff went back to mechanic-ing.

Ugh! Aghhhhh!

It's not like I want my kids to silence their thoughts and concerns just because we're in public - most times I just wish I could run their comments through my own filter before they come out of their mouths. Other recent uncomfortable comments:

Yesterday Thing 3 told a Costco sample lady that she was really old. Luckily the lady was not only old, but quite possibly deaf. Or maybe she's just learned to ignore little girls (with good reason.)

Also yesterday, when Thing 1 was asked if our family would like some cinnamon rolls she responded with, "My mom makes the best cinnamon rolls in the world." The result? No scrumptious gift of sugar.

Later this morning Thing 2 told the checkout lady that his big sister hates OfficeMax (apparently the OfficeMax branded pencils refuse to sharpen properly - I've been instructed to never buy them again.) My only saving grace? We were at Office Depot. The checkout lady responded with, "Your children are adorable."

I wonder if she'd think they were adorable if I slapped big pieces of duct tape over their mouths every time we left the house.

February 23, 2004

2009-02-23T16:06:00.000-08:00

I was published for the first and only time. In honor of the anniversary of that momentous occasion, an edited reprint:

I thought it would be easy to move from a 2000 sf house into an “itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny-yellow-polka-dot” two-bedroom Soldiers Field Park (SFP) apartment. Ok, so maybe it wasn’t bikini cute (or even polka-dotted), but I figured I could tough it out for two years.

Really, what’s sacrificing a little space when the alternative was spending $700 more for a third bedroom? With that kind of money I could buy 10 new pairs of shoes, or host a slamming Girls’ Night, or spend a weekend in Paris – and not just once, but every month!

After all, I was being realistic. I just kept telling myself that my kids are young and don’t require much space. And we’d spend most of our time outside, anyway.

I don’t know what psycho, rose-colored glass world I was trying to live in.

Addy (age 4) and Jack (age 1) can’t sleep in the same room. Addy coughs, Jack wakes up and cries, Addy wakes up and yells, Nate (NA) wakes up and gets mad, and I try to smother myself with a pillow.

After a few nights, Addy started sleeping in my bed and I resigned myself to the couch. Don’t get me wrong - it’s a comfy couch . . . but I like my bed better.

So now no one was sleeping well (except maybe the kids, but at this minute they don’t count.) And you know the saying, “If Mom ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” That became my new reality.

I was tired of seeing my living room covered in toys and my kitchen sink full of dishes (that’s right, my teeny-weeny apartment was too small for a dishwasher.)

I was tired of Jack climbing from the radiator to the couch to the desk across the computer keyboard to get to the phone (he’s a fan of 10-10-321.)

I was tired of Addy harvesting junk mail from the desk garbage can for coloring media (what kind of mother lets her kid play with trash?)

I was tired of having to unload half of my front closet to get to the vacuum, or the toy shelf, or the laundry detergent, or my winter coat, or a fresh jar of spaghetti sauce, or a stroller (really, all that stuff, and more, fit into my front closet – it’s called “creative space-saving”).

I was tired of the walls closing in on me after an eternity of sub-freezing temperatures.

Frankly, I was just tired.

I needed to be back in my own bed, and I didn’t feel like roughing it anymore. I didn’t even care about the extra $700 a month anymore (and that’s saying a ton, as anyone who knows me will attest.)

So I called the HRES Future & Immediate Housing listing. As luck would have it, there were a number of three bedroom units available – two in SFP and two in One Western Avenue (OWA).

We toured each apartment and measured the layouts (and closet rod space).

Apartment 3A in SFP was a townhouse style unit. I swear it was bigger than my three bedroom with full basement and ½ acre fenced yard-place in Pennsylvania (it’s amazing what tight quarters do to your space perception, even after only a couple months.) And by golly, it even had a dining room. I started dreaming about hosting one of those Section A small group dinner parties.

I could overlook having to travel with my laundry to another building, and having to venture outside in sub-zero weather to get to the parking garage. And I could overlook all the stairs.

Wait, no I couldn’t.

Jack may be rough and tumble, but after our Halloween day visit to the ER for a nasty fall off my four foot high bed (again, “creative space-saving” at work), I wasn’t going to take a chance.

Which meant that unit 9A in SFP was also out.

We also immediately eliminated #136 in OWA – it was only about 200 square feet bigger than our two bedroom SFP place, and it faced busy Western Ave on the ground floor. It didn’t have elevator access to the soon-to-be-finished (wishful thinking at the time) parking garage, AND you had to leave the building to get to the mailroom and the laundry room. AND . . . it cost the same as all the other (bigger and better) three bedroom units at OWA.

Sounds like a real winner, huh? I didn’t have to wonder why that unit was still empty.

Now we were left with only one viable alternative - a unit in the OWA tower.

(I’m not going to disclose the apartment number, because anyone with deductive reasoning skills would know that it’s where I now live. And let’s face it folks, I have a 1 year-old and a 4 year-old, so I really don’t need another stalker.)

I will admit I was a little put off by the architecture. If this is what form came up with, I really think function should have won out. (I doubt I was the first to question OWA. I mean it’s weird looking, has a weird layout, and does anyone else think it’s weird to reserve the top three floors for mechanical space? Can a heating unit really appreciate the view?)

But the swipe card granted us entry to the building without having to “do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight” as I was used to doing with the SFP door key.

The elevator came when it was called and asked how high on the way up. And when the apartment door opened we entered our own little nirvana. After all, this place had 320 inches of closet rod - a 60% increase over our old place (I may not be an HBS student, but yeah, I can do the math.)

The apartment had a dishwasher and overhead lighting in the bedrooms, and central A/C, and thermostats, and solid-surface countertops, and two super-huge, what-the-heck-am-I-going-to-do-with-all-this-space bathrooms! Who could ask for anything more? (Maybe a new Toyota? 2004 Sienna, preferably.)

Nate drew our floor plan and cut out miniature pieces of paper furniture to make sure everything would fit just right. (Yeah he’s a little “detail oriented”. But if he didn’t do it I would have. And he’s better with the graph paper.)

So to make a long story short (or is it too late for that?), we said, “oh yes, yes, yes” and, “thank you very much” and moved into our new place on the last day of finals.

So now I’m enjoying this Boston winter (can anyone really do that?) in the warmth and space (and at one point, flooding – but that’s another story) of my fabulously expensive OWA apartment.

Addy has her own bedroom, and Jack has his own bathroom, my desk phone and garbage have their own office, and I have my own bed back.

Our days are filled with “short-cuts” to the mailroom (up the elevator to the 6th floor, across the bridge, down the elevator to the 2nd floor, through the court, down the elevator to the lobby, and into the mailroom) where we have a super-sized mailbox (meaning fewer trips to the Spangler post office, which isn’t open on Saturdays, for packages that didn’t quite fit), and doing laundry where the hour-long dryer cycle is only 56 minutes.

So what if my bedroom door is too thick for my over-the-door shoe rack, and so what if I have to venture out at 7 am every Sunday to find my Boston Globe because the carrier leaves it in some obscure lobby that only a handful of people ever enter (I suppose s/he is as confused by the architecture as I am?)

And it isn’t too much of a bother that the fire alarms are hypersensitive and over active.

And who really needs more than one phone jack per line? (No one ever talks on the phone in the living room, so I’m glad they saved on installing a jack there.)

What it all comes down to is this:

Mom’s happy again. (At least until I have to look at the CitiAssist Loan balances.)

And yes, Section A, I’d love to host a small group dinner, even without the dining room.

Now I'm always-on(line)

2009-02-18T20:05:00.000-08:00

Cox Cable finally has its greedy little fingers in my pocketbook.

Lucky them.

Lucky me.

No more trips to the library. At least not for anything other than books.

Unfortunately it was prudent to give up DishNetwork and my AT&T landline to get the Cox bundle package pricing with free installation and a free cable modem. No biggie on the landline (a call's a call), but I'm seriously grieving my DishNetwork DVR.

Cox's digital cable and "PVR" sucks. Sorry for the strong language.

But it does.

I guess this first step is necessary if I'm eventually gonna wean myself off paid programming. See - I've admitted I have a problem. But that doesn't make the withdrawal symptoms any less painful.

I'm Yours . . .

2009-02-11T21:51:00.000-08:00

I rather quite enjoy "I'm Yours" by Jason Mraz. The tune is catchy, the lyrics are generally up-lifting and singable ... really, what's not to like?

Well, there is one phrase that at first simply confused me. But now it bugs me. I'm sure before long it will really irritate me, although I hope not so much that I can no longer listen to the song without cringing.

"Listen to the music of the moment people, dance and sing

We're just one big family

And it's our God-forsaken right to be loved loved loved loved loved"

Anyone else find that third line to be a little odd? I'm not sure what JM was intending when he wrote that line - since when did God start forsaking your right to be loved? Maybe he meant it as a subtle dig at the religious right-wing, or maybe he just needs a vocabulary refresher.

Either way, I'm not impressed.

That's what friends' (husbands) are for

2009-02-11T21:42:00.000-08:00

So today my car wouldn't start for the last time. The battery is dead.

Not just tired.

Dead.

But why would the battery on a car less than 4 years old be dead? Because I have Things, that's why. Things who like to turn on reading lights in the middle of the day. Things that can't remember to turn off said reading lights because they didn't need them on in the first place.

And my fancy-dancy mini-van with 16 cup-holders, 2 glove boxes, in-floor storage, fold-flat seats, tushie warmers, and a handy-dandy removable jump-seat (all graciously included in an ergonomic design for the comfort and convenience of moms everywhere) fails to incorporate any indicator that interior lights are left on when the car is turned off.

Sure - there's a beep-beep here if you leave your headlights on (handy when it's a drab day and you forgot you turned on the lights when you turned on the wipers, even though it's the law), and a beep-beep there if you leave your keys in the ignition (makes sense - you wouldn't want an unauthorized someone to drive away when you just stepped out of the car for a short moment - especially if that someone is a Thing), but there's no beep-beep to warn you that your car won't start the next time you try to leave the garage because your Things had an irresistible urge to push on the sparkly crystal/plastic reading light in the middle of the afternoon.

Kinda kills the comfort and convenience factor Honda was trying to sell with their re-designed mom-van.

But can't you just jump-start that battery? Why, yes Virginia, you can - and I did.

But then you need to devote an hour or so driving around (or sitting idle) to make sure the battery fully charges. Otherwise you just end up with a dead battery again.

And again.

And again.

Apparently I don't have an hour to devote. I guess I was just hoping the battery would magically repair itself without all that inconvenient car time.

But it didn't. And this morning I had a hair-cut appointment (it turned out very cute, thanks for asking.) But the car wouldn't start. And I was already late. We had to run - or at least Ellie did - I just walked fast and Sketch rode in the stroller. Very reminiscent of Boston living ... life on foot. But that only works when your destination is relatively close and/or your route doesn't require the use of the freeway. Luckily my fabulous new stylist lives just down the hill.

After school/nap time (the baby's, not mine) I planned to jump-start the car and head to Costco for a new battery. I had my wrench and my flashlight ready (by then it would be dark.) I loaded the Things into the car and hooked up my Black & Decker thingie.

I flipped the switch, waited a minute, then started the car.

Success!!

Well, yes - until my fried brain misdirected my impulse to open the garage door to prevent CO poisoning and accidentally instructed my hand to instead turn off the ignition.

Batteries really don't like that kind of psych-out. One false start and all hopes of making it to Costco were down the drain.

Did I mention Nate is in New York? And his car is in the SNA airport parking lot? And Thing 3 has her very first dance class early tomorrow morning?

Situations like this are precisely why friends have husbands. Thanks for sharing yours, Kimber. Watching Mike install the battery he bought and brought over only solidified the apprehensive vision I had of wrestling a heavy and uncooperative battery from the clutches of an unyielding engine cavity in the dark of a poorly lit Costco parking lot.

Thankfully no one had to witness (or act out) such a scene. Now my car starts when it's supposed to and the thingie I've been driving around with for the last week can be put back on the shelf in the garage.

And fear not, faithful readers. I've learned my lesson and have now permanently engaged the interior lights override switch. The Things can push on the sparkly crystal/plastic reading lights to their hearts' content and get absolutely no satisfaction.

I have no internet

2009-02-07T16:17:00.001-08:00

I'm at the library right now, trying to accomplish on online to-do list while tuning out the 4 teenage boys engaged in car talk:

"The new Audi is way cooler than the new Infiniti."

and

"I don't want to buy an Acura because the parts are too expensive."

Whatever.

Shut up and study or the lousy job you end up with will mean the best car you can afford is the 7 year old Nissan Sentra with bald tires and a bad paint job that's currently in the Big Lots parking lot. And by then it will be 13 years old.

Sorry if I'm a little irritable. I miss my internet connection. And when I say "my" I mean the unsecured wireless signal called "linksys" that wafts into my bonus room. After 2 1/2 years it doesn't work anymore (my mom warned this day would come.) And, as a result, I've been spending much time at the library, and much time on the phone with Jeff, the Cox cable guy. Maybe when he puts together a attractive enough package I'll give in and pay for broadband.

Until then you can find me at the library. Along with all the teenage boys that don't have any girls to hang out with because they spend too much time talking about stupid cars they'll only ever look at in magazines.

I'll be the one wearing the "PITHY" necklace.

A Season for Dress Up

2009-01-22T23:02:00.000-08:00

Whether at our Ward party or G&G Great's Christmas Eve soiree, my Things embraced every opportunity to don a pageantic disguise.

Thing 1 . . .

. . . as Mary . . .
. . . and an angel.

Thing 2 . . .

. . . as a shepard . . .

. . . and Joseph.

Thing 3 . . .

. . . as an angel.

Thing 4 . . .

. . . as sweaty Santa.

The latest portraits

2009-01-20T10:21:00.000-08:00

My local JCPenney's Portrait Studio must be under new management. I've been 3 times in the last 2 months (only twice for my kids,) and each visit has been almost a pleasure. Enjoy the results . . .

Thing 4 is 6 months old (well, 7 months now, but the photos are a month old.) He enjoys drooling, playing with tags on stuffed animals, and sleeping erratically. He has yet to cut any teeth, he doesn't sit up unassisted, and he's stingy with his giggles.

MISSING: Thing 3

Fear not, only her photo is missing. It will be posted in late May, after being taken for her 4th birthday.

Thing 2 is 6 years old. He enjoys 1/2 day Kindergarten and walking/running home after school with(out) his big sister. He's an excellent toilet scrubber, bedmaker, and dinosaur tamer.

Thing 1 is now 9 years old. She enjoys hardbacks, paperbacks, and magazines. She would prefer for someone else to take piano lessons, unload the dishwasher as needed, and do her laundry.

And then she went to bed . . .

2009-01-19T21:39:00.000-08:00

. . . or is that chair?

What is it with kids and sleep? Somehow they manage to rest regardless of the position they nod off in.

Case in point below. Thing 3 was tired of waiting for me to get off the phone with Nana so she put herself down for a nap.

Or is that stood herself up?

Time for cocoa

2009-01-19T12:44:00.000-08:00

Things 1-3 wanted hot cocoa before bed. I think they got tired of waiting.

The newest Who

2009-01-14T11:37:00.000-08:00

I say there's nothing wrong with dressing like a Dr. Suess character. As long as you still wear footed jammies, that is.

Coming off the sugar high

2009-01-13T15:05:00.000-08:00

Need evidence that my pantry has significantly fewer treats than my in-laws'? Just walk in and feel the fine grains of white sugar crunch under your feet.

Apparently one of my Things needed a fix so bad they went for the pure stuff. What's next? Intravenous high fructose corn syrup? My little addicts are in serious need of an intervention.

I'm hoping a child-safe knob cover for the pantry door and mean-face threats of extreme punishment for any vermin/insect infestation is enough. Any other ideas?

See a penny, pick it up . . . oh, just shoot me instead!

2009-01-12T18:59:00.000-08:00

Anytime I feel like my penny-pinching, bargain-hunting, coupon-cutting, deal-finding, sale-shopping, dollar-stretching neurosis is on the verge of controlling me I just link over to the newest blog on my frequent read list:

moneysavingmethods.blogspot.com

Instant relief! And justification. And strong indication of all the progress I've made.

Oh, yes . . . I too used to keep track of all my coupon savings and survey/rebate earnings. Yes, I used to save every receipt for monthly bank/credit card statement reconciliation after conveniently recording every transaction on a detailed spreadsheet - I had a very complicated system, complete with highlighters and paperclips. And yes, I even tracked regular and sale prices at all the local stores so I knew a real bargain when I saw it - my Palm contained oh-so-much more than just my to-do list and friends & family contact information.

But then I got a life - a very, very busy life. One that demands time and attention devoted to Primary, PTA, and piano lessons, soccer and silver jewelry making (yes, I love creative use of alliteration), homework and housework, blogging and breastfeeding (lots and lots of time on that last one.)

With no pause-button available, and only a finite 24 hours available in a single day, something had to give.

Surprisingly enough my checking account hasn't imploded even though my register has been off by $1.50 the last 8 times I balanced it. And American Express hasn't started erroneously billing me for products and services I didn't purchase, even though it's been 15 months since I last matched my receipts to statement charges (as far as I know, anyway . . . what's that they say about ignorance?) Our accounts are solvent, our bills paid on time, our spending/saving habits healthy . . . isn't that enough? Doesn't my time saved = money earned?

Don't get me wrong - it's not like I ignore blatant money-saving opportunities or go on wild spending sprees. I still coupon stack with the best of them (love, love, love couponmom.com). I still check my receipts before I walk out of the store to make sure I wasn't overcharged (most of the time, anyway - just today I was overcharged $2.99/lb. for tomatoes - but as part of my new zen (aka, too-tired-to-care) attitude I decided to let it go.) And yes, I still spend many, many minutes (ok, hours) comparison shopping online.

But now when it gets to be compulsive I stop by Carrie's site for a little perspective. It makes me feel much better when I am reminded that my need for all things discounted could be much worse.

The Joe I know

2009-01-10T21:31:00.000-08:00

The last time I saw Lauren (my sister) and Joe (her husband) is when we were all in Hawaii for Christmas 2005.

Although Joe had been to Hawaii a couple times prior, he had yet to experience all things quintessentially local. A visit to Zippy's - restaurant and bakery extraordinary - was definitely in order.

Our lunch stop started out uneventfully enough. We ordered at the counter and found a small booth in which to sit and eat. Then, halfway through the meal Joe gets up, empty cup in hand, and leaves the table without a word. Moments later he returns with a full beverage and continues his meal.

I was confused. Very uncharacteristically of myself I had conserved my own drink because Zippy's didn't have a self-serve beverage fountain, nor did they offer free refills (yes, I'm that cheap.) Joe hadn't taken his wallet with him when he got up, so how did he end up with a full cup? Upon inquiry Joe explained he simply walked up to the girl at the counter and told her that he had paid for a cup of root beer, not a cup of ice. She promptly filled his cup and apologized for the inconvenience.

I've told that story more times than I can remember. I was so surprised by Joe's simple approach. While I would've sat at the table and whined (maybe only internally, maybe not) about the amount of ice displacing potential Diet Coke in my cup, Joe thought nothing of remedying the situation. How very logical, . . . and memorable - enough so that Courtney and I bought him an A&W t-shirt months later in commemoration of his stand-up performance.

And then again . . .

Earlier this week Joe and I made an emergency trip to Best Buy. He needed a new computer and had only a couple of hours before he boarded a plane for Arizona. The laptop that appealed to him was sold out, with only the display model available at an additional discount. It would come with no box and no manual. No big deal- all the computer info is available online and the box just ends up in the recycling bin. I would've been content to accept the situation as it was, but not Joe. Instead he turned it to his advantage by quickly asking the sales guy for a discount on a computer bag, since the laptop didn't come with a box. The sales guy obliged and Joe bought a laptop.

Once again Joe left me astounded and remembering that to get what you want, sometimes all you have to do is ask.

Back in the blog

2009-01-10T20:59:00.000-08:00

My blog hiatus is finally over - I'm sure you are all thrilled. Sorry to keep you in suspense.

We arrived back in California on the evening of New Year's Day. Lauren and Joe, and their daughter, Sidonie (3), arrived shortly after we did. They're in process of moving from London to Prescott, AZ and decided to grace us with their presence while living in limbo.

Things 1-3 are so excited to have a cousin in the house. Thing 4 is teething/fighting a cold and probably couldn't care less . . . poor kid. But as long as he gets his bananas, blankie, and a boob he should be just fine.

We've spent the last week un-Christmas-ing the house (I've got at least another week of work to go) and getting back into a more typical routine. School, piano lessons, kid chores, activity days, homework, grocery-ing, PTA, laundry, vacuuming, church . . . how did I ever think life would be less busy once the holidays were over?

Oh, the weather outside is frightful . . .

2008-12-26T15:12:00.000-08:00

. . . or was soon to be anyway. We opted to leave California 12 hours early to beat the rain/snow storms that intended on plowing a course straight up I-15 into Utah.

We hit the road at 9pm and with a little help managed to drive through the night with only minimal stops.

These puffs should be outlawed - or at least come with a large warning label and a pair of latex gloves. I can only imagine how raw my insides looked after being forced to digest such a incendiary "snack".

Smooth, mouth-watering chocolate . . . such sweet relief from the cheesy burn. I just wish it had come in a bigger size.

The brownies were supposed to go to the families Nate visits every month. Unfortunately for them, our early departure meant deliveries had to be postponed until we got back to California in January. And since no one likes stale brownies . . . taking them with us was really more an act of service.

We made it to Orem in near-record time, after tag-team drive swapping every 2 hours. A 7:30 am arrival meant I climbed into bed for an early morning nap just as the snow started to fall. Exhaustion from driving all night is SO much better than spending the day crawling along a isolated freeway in near white-out conditions with 4 Things complaining about snacks and seatbelts and movie selections and potty breaks and hands not being kept to themselves.

No, Jackson!

2008-12-18T16:43:00.000-08:00

I got really mad (at him,) then I laughed (to Nate.) Can you appreciate the irony? Maybe Thing 2 will grow up to be the next David Shannon.

The Deconstructionists

2008-12-18T16:35:00.000-08:00

From this . . .

. . . to this . . .

. . . in a matter of 3 hours. Hansel and Gretel ain't got nothin' on this houseful.

Christmas (lack-of) Lights

2008-12-18T15:53:00.000-08:00

Doesn't Thing 3 make a fabulous, albeit small, Rudolf? Thanks to Thing 2 for sharing his latest Kindergarten creation.

A couple weeks ago we got home from church and Thing 3 asked when the men were going to put lights up on our house. Of course she had noticed the 4 guys with ladders, hard at work across the street, as we pulled out of the driveway earlier that day.

The lovely result of our neighbors' hired help's hard work.

I responded, "We aren't going to have Christmas lights on our house this year, sweetie. 'Cause you remember how Mama drove over them last January - after Daddy worked so hard to take them down and lay them out on the garage floor so he could later roll them up and keep them from getting tangled?"

Yes, I did - over all 7 strands of the lights for which I searched high and low to find the previous year. Strands that were composed of alternating mini-pearl-globe bulbs of red, green, and white - lights that are difficult enough to find I can't even find a photo of them online. If only those little pearl bulbs had been made to support 4300+ lbs of minivan . . . instead, another victim of pregnancy brain lay in pieces on the garage floor.

At least my Moravian star and entry trees were safely tucked away before the shatter-spree commenced.

Lasso, zipline, . . . tooth extractor?

2008-12-17T20:21:00.000-08:00

Thanks to a helping hand from a little girl at Kid's Factory (no, they don't actually make kids at this factory), Thing 2's 3rd baby tooth is a goner. Another lesson for this little monster to learn - ROPE DOESN'T GO IN YOUR MOUTH!

Geneological Evolution

2008-12-17T19:55:00.000-08:00

What do you get when you mix

this (viking)

with this (Dane)

and this (Englishman)

and this (Irishman)

and this (Welshman)

and this (German)

and this (Pilgrim)?

You get this!

Thing 2's Kindergarten class presented a heritage fashion show as part of their "Celebrate Us" unit. I opted for the easy route and dressed Jack as a cowboy since the mutt blood Nate and I blessed him with presented a serious complication - imagine a tartan kilt over knickers, complete with lederhosen, a horned helmet, and gold buckles on his shoes. A confusing and unfortunate picture, wouldn't you say? In all fairness, Nate and I both come from authentic cowboy stock (note Grandpa Day's belt buckle & bolo tie), so Jack's costume isn't too far off the mark.

Watch Jack strut his stuff on the catwalk (uh, countertop.)

Cowboy Jack and his beautiful senorita, Julia.

(note the lasso - this zip line is multi-functional)