Five (Or Six...Or Seven) For Friday

It's been a long time since I've purged some of the random daily thoughts and mundane happenings around here.  A good Five For Friday (plus a few extra) should clean house.

1.  It's been snowing around here.  S-N-O-W-I-N-G.   It's like feast or famine.  When it snows, it comes down so much that all plans seem to end up cancelled, all roads are better left undriven and the endless, endless, endless task of keeping the driveway plowed consumes me.  Seriously - I went to bed last night dreaming about shoveling.  It was a nightmare.

Here's some of the snow pics:

I sent Seth on top of some of the biggest piles (that are over eight feet tall) to see if he could stomp them down to make throwing more snow on top more feasible.  It's getting harder and harder to heave the snow.  There is simply no where for it to go.  If you don't catapult it - it just lands on the wrong side of the pile and comes sliding back down into the driveway.

We live off a roundabout and the trucks push all the round-a-bout snow into our front yard too.  The kids can totally hide in gulley between snow piles and I can't see them.

This is the back deck.  We should have stayed on top of shoveling it off, but it's a good illustration of how much snow has fallen.  Not quite four feet - but close.  The snow is as tall as the railing.

Seth - back to stomping on the other side.  It's pretty futile when you only weigh 70 pounds.

2.  Seth has enjoyed reading for the last couple of years (I attribute it to The Diary of a Wimpy Kid books.  They convinced him that reading was more than just homework) but has recently crossed over into the realm of read-a-holic.  I'd be concerned except I'm too busy being oh so proud!  Last night, he picked up this book at 9:00 pm and I told him he could read until he was tired (because school had already been cancelled today - Snow day!).   Well, after Jay's and my final shovel of the evening, I walked past his room at 11:24 and his light was still on!  I opened the door and told him that I was glad he liked his book but it was time for bed.  He shut off his light and when he came out all groggy this morning, I asked him if he was tired from staying up too late.  He replied, "I stayed up even later than that.  I held up my clock to the page and used it as a flashlight and finished the book."  Yup.  He finished that whole book in one night.   I love that he loves to read, even if the books he devours have muscled vikings on the front cover.

I always thought I'd read everything my kids read to make sure they were appropriate, but I just can't get myself to pick up this series.  Thankfully, some other reputable people vouch for them.  O.K...O.K..I'll read them.

3.  We looked at a house this week that I really, really, really liked.  And it happens to be practically across the street from where we are now living.  Like any house, it isn't perfect, and there were things I would design differently had it been in my power to do so, but, all things considered, my complaints are pretty minor and the pluses outweigh them anyways.  Jay liked it too.  I don't know what that means, since he hasn't brought it up since (he may still be in the window shopping phase) but I'm still excited that I saw something I liked.  Of course, it's more than we want to spend on a house, but maybe they'll come down.  Or maybe someone else will buy it this week.  I don't know.  At least I don't have to be a stalker like I normally am when I am considering something.  No drive bys.  All I have to do is look out my front window.

My text is too small to read, but it says, "This is the house."

4.  Does anyone else ever go to the Pinching Your Pennies website?  I get a daily (sometimes more than once a day) email notifying me of some good deals across the web.  I love when other people do the groundwork for me, and if something intrigues me, I click on the link.

Well, a few baby showers for women I know are approaching in the next weeks and months, and when I saw a store advertising receiving blankets and coveralls for like 80% off, I was interested.  The online store really only carried girly things, but I found a few items I thought a new mother would like and purchased them.

It wasn't until the box arrived on my doorstep that I realized that the whole premise of the store was that nothing matched - and that was the way it was supposed to be.  The catalog they sent along with my shipment was filled with catchy phrases like, "Matching is over-rated."  And,  "Nothing Matches But Anything Goes!"

Well, they underestimated the tendencies of a fairly conservative-doesn't-think-outside-the-fashion-box woman.  I managed to maneuver my way around their odds and ends sale items (which I assumed were the left over odds and ends) and find things that matched!



Do you think the owners of the company would be disappointed in me?

5.  Last Christmas (so...over a year ago) Jay gave me Photoshop Elements 7 as a gift.  I had even asked for it, but never put the software on my computer because I had heard from more than once person that Photoshop is inaccessible and really hard to learn.  I contented myself with Picassa and never thought about it until about two weeks ago when I decided to give it a try.

I am not an intuitive learner and really don't know what I'm doing, but have found a couple of features that I love.  I made Sam's birthday party invitations with it and uploaded the picture to Walgreens One-Hour photo and picked them up that day.  It was so easy!  I even edited it to keep my personal information off the web.  Can I be considered savvy yet?



6.  I got my fingers stuck in the folds of the garage door this week.  The red rope safety mechanism was triggered when it got snagged by a pair of skis that were loaded on top of the van and so I had to manually open and close the door until Jay got home and could fix it (why bother figuring it out when Jay is so much better at those types of things?  See?  I'm not intuitive AND I like others doing the groundwork for me.  See how this is all tied together????)  Anyways, when I was manually closing the door, I stupidly pulled on one of the panels near the top that bends to open.  Of course, when it comes down, the panels close together - tightly.  I fainted due to pain and my right hand is still numb.  I'm hoping the feeling comes back soon and that it's only my finger nails that are significantly bruised.  I'm sure that's all that's wrong (mangled fingers crossed).

7.  I've had this sign front and center in my living room for years now.  I always concluded from it's rhyming message that I shouldn't be obsessed with house cleaning while my children are young because having a really clean home is futile.

This week, however, with all of the constantly falling snow, I've had a change of heart.  There is a lady who frequently walks her dog.   She either walks the dog on the hour, every hour, or we just happen to choose the exact times to walk dogs and shovel snow.  She asked me yesterday if I shovel every couple of hours and I replied, "Yeah.  If I don't it is so much harder to do because it's heavier.  This way, if I stay on top if it, it only takes about a half hour."  So what if I'm shoveling for a half hour every two hours.  My back and weird muscles on the back of my arms (not triceps - can't think of the name.  Will ask Jay, who once again has better skills in this area) thank me.

So...did anyone else get the ding, ding, ding?  That has not been my philosophy on house cleaning.  I am a contradiction.



The sign

The mess in Henry's room that needs some attention.  But, instead, I blog.


8.  O.K.  I am over my limit.  But - who can resist a cute boy with a bare bum?  Here's what my shadow was doing while I snapped some pictures this morning for this post.

Like mother, like son.

Except I wore pants.

I promise.

Book Review - The Outlander

For a book that is all about suspense and finding out what happens on the next page, I sure have forgotten a lot of details about the plot.

Basically, a woman kills her husband and is on the run from his two brothers who have an uncanny ability to find her in spite of  the river she crossed, the home she found shelter in, the horse she stole, the mountains she climbs, the rain, the escaped convict she eventually hooks up with, the Indian who brings her down the mountain or the landslide that buries the town where she eventually resides.  This all happens amid present tense descriptions of her starvation (although food always manages to arrive in some kind of edible form just in the nick of time) and flashbacks about what lead to the murder of her husband.

It's all very interesting, if not very likely, and I enjoyed the story.  It's just not the kind of book that...sticks...with you.  The motive and resolution are lackluster and the ending,  while clever, is disappointing because I'm not sure it's the ending she deserved.

For me, it was the perfect break from some heavier reading.  So, if you're looking for a kind of mystery/love story/historical fiction about the wild, wild west - you might give The Outlander a try.

Sunday Thoughts - I Love To Laugh

My sister, Sarah, came to spend her Christmas vacation with us.  With a closet full of four different kinds of scented body wash I had recently purchased at a Bath and Body Works sale, I sent her to our guest suite ( I prefer the term over a family-room-with-a-bed-in-the-middle-of-it) with a towel and a bottle of Warm Vanilla Sugar for her shower.

The next morning, she told me I had given her lotion instead of soap, to which I firmly replied, "No.  It's just a creamy body wash."  Because I have older sister authority, she simply shrugged and said, "Oh."

Her accusation struck a nerve, however, because while I was using my own Midnight Pomegranate body wash the next morning, I re-read the directions on the back of the bottle.

"Massage into skin, especially dry spots and indulge in the luxury of..."  yada, yada, yada.

I read it again, looking for the verbs I thought should be there, like, "Lather.  Cleanse.   Rinse."

They weren't there.

Suddenly, my mystifying acne outbreak and overall less squeaky clean feeling the past two weeks had an explanation.

I was washing myself, including my face, with...lotion.

Sarah had a great laugh from my greasy mistake and after a day, I was finished feeling embarrassed and thought it was funny too.

It was perplexing to have lather-less soap.

I meant to blog about it but never found the time, which felt disappointing because I love having a good laugh at myself.

Actually, I just love to laugh.  I have three funny children who keep my laughter gauge pointing towards full.  I have a funny husband who frequently performs my favorite dance moves of his because he loves to hear me laugh.  And, blessedly, I have friends and family who supply me with the kinds of stories, shared memories and knowing glances that get me my necessary daily dose of guffaw.

Like I explained with the above story involving lotion disguised as soap (O.K.  They are perfectly labeled and just misused by someone who never bothered to look at the fine print), I am totally comfortable using myself as the butt of the joke.  It's safe.  I know I can't hurt my own feelings and it's like using a triple coupon if I can get others to join in the mirth.

Today in Relief Society, because it seemed to fit and, more likely, because I can't help myself, I made fun of my recent attempts to learn the art of knitting.  There were several women in the room who have been attending the weekly class alongside me who could appreciate my joke as they've seen me struggle week after week to grasp the motions of knit and purl.   I made the comment as I referenced a past message given by President Uchtdorf about our divine desire to create.  It was my way of acknowledging that, while I struggle with some of the more characteristically feminine talents (knitting, sewing, quilting, decorating, baking, canning, recognizing lotion as lotion right away), I also recognize my own spark of divinity when I write, or sing or enjoy the three boys I helped develop in utero and continue to help develop in the high altitude Colorado air.

My comment produced the chuckle I was hoping it would, but, later during the meeting, another sister followed with a comment about how we shouldn't tear ourselves down and while, perhaps I wasn't a natural knitter, what was more important than actually knitting was that I was persevering in trying to learn to knit.  That that act was the quality that mattered to God and to my own spirit, instead of the actual skill or craft.

I appreciated her rah-rah Lucy speech, but felt a little bad that she might think that I felt a little bad about not being a good knitter.  O.K...I admit that it would be awesome to have the long, flowy orange mohair scarf produced by my own hands I originally intended to make instead of the not-even-halfway-finished brown potholder that my teacher suggested I try instead, because I had an untapped natural knitting talent that this class had unleashed.  But, that didn't happen.  The next best thing, for me, is to find the humor in my extremely unsightly but hopefully useful potholder.

This woman made me wonder, however.  When are we tearing ourselves and others down, and when are we finding joy in the journey?  Are my poking-fun-of-myself comments harmful to my soul?  I felt self-conscious afterwards wondering if she might think I was fishing for compliments, like the, "I'm so fat" declaration made by the perfectly proportioned girl.    Was I?

I don't think so.   I will admit that there is some wisdom in the saying to "laugh at yourself first, before anyone else can", but I also believe, unless I am completely deluding myself, that to be comfortable laughing at myself also means that I am comfortable with who I am.  I have confidence.  I like myself.  Those aren't bad things, right?

I ask because, while I love to laugh, maybe what I'm laughing at isn't very funny to anyone else.  Maybe I'm like that clueless uncle or guest that thinks he's funny/interesting/entertaining and all anyone else really wants is for him to stop talking.   Although, even wondering aloud makes me worry about appearing to fish for compliments again.

I can't imagine I'll stop laughing at myself.  The pool of available subjects to safely poke fun of is just too sparsely populated.   But, maybe if it makes people uncomfortable, I might stop airing my goofs and bloopers.

You'll just have to wonder how my skin magically cleared up.

Now...for the uplifting part.  Watch this!

Book Review - Classic #7 - The Prince of Tides

I had several people ask me after choosing this novel, why I considered Pat Conroy's The Prince of Tides a classic.

First of all, it was written in 1986. That is twenty-four years ago. When I was in high school, Harold and Maude was considered a classic (is it still? Creepy.) and it was only twenty years old. So, I think The Prince of Tides safely falls into the Modern Classic genre.

Secondly, they made a movie out of the book. I know that movie adaptations from books aren't required to stem from great books (I may be referring to the last book I reviewed - Julie & Julia) but a book has to have some kind of staying power to attract the powers that be in Hollywood.

Lastly, the title was familiar. Given, I like to read as a hobby and have thus spent a fair amount of time perusing titles in libraries, bookstores, and online sites, but I had read, seen and heard the title The Prince of Tides long before choosing to read it. I was curious. I wanted to be "in the know."

That's not to say I had any idea what it was about. For some reason, I think I had mistaken the movie adaptation (which I have never seen) with Cape Fear thanks to some unexplained ability of my brain to remember Nick Nolte was in both movies, and thought it was a kind of psychological thriller. Tides....Capes...hey - I'm from Montana. Those nouns aren't exactly part of our everyday vernacular. I was pleasantly surprised to realize that it was more of a family drama, the kind that makes you appreciate your own, non-psychotic family.

The Prince of Tides follows Tom Wingo, a disgraced high school English teacher and football coach, spending a summer in New York visiting with his sister, who is hospitalized following another suicide attempt, and her psychiatrist who convinces Tom to help his sister by meeting with her and revealing their mutually troubled childhood. Tom's sister, Savannah, is a famous poet and during her breakdown, shouts out a string of incoherent words and phrases, which her psychiatrist, Susan Lowenstein, writes down. Convinced these exposed words are really memories at the root of Savannah's psychological troubles, Dr. Lowenstein asks Tom about each of them, triggering a series of narrative flashbacks that unlock the secrets of Tom and Savannah's childhood in South Carolina, along with their older brother, Luke, and their mismatched parents who, like many a parents, had no business raising children.

What I loved about this book was the outstanding narrative. Tom is smart, and Conroy allows his thoughts and memories to be beautifully worded and vividly described. Tom also has a biting, sarcastic wit that keeps the dialogue and conversation interesting and enjoyable. Unlike a lot of characters, I believed that Tom could be. He is your basic good guy, whose life is falling apart and isn't sure there is a whole lot he can do to fix it. The reverence he has for his beloved South, flaws and all, is felt in his descriptions of its pungent smells, rich soil and overly-polite manners. Susan, on the other hand, is a perfect contrast with her New York point-of-view and high brow lifestyle. Their disdain for each other's choice of where to live allows Conroy to not only narrate the South's beauty, but to defend it against the perceived superiority of its Yankee neighbors.

I also loved the depth that came from having multiple conflicts. There's Tom's marriage that is imploding, his stalled career and lack of plans to do anything different, there's Savannah's illness, the forbidden attraction between Tom and Susan, Susan's troubled marriage to a world famous violinist, her angry and aloof son who wants to play football instead of the violin, the anger between Tom and his mother as well as the constantly building tension that is a result of the controlled disclosure of a painful past.

What keeps me from loving this book is its raw violence. I simply cannot adore a book that makes me cringe. The scene that is eventually described at the climax as the source of most of their dysfunction is so brutal, so horrible, that I actually wish I hadn't read it. It's like pornography - it imprints on your brain whether you want it to or not. Unfortunately, whenever I now think of The Prince of Tides, in spite of it having multiple scenes that are much, much more pleasant, I think of this horrible day in their lives. Perhaps that was the author's intention. Perhaps the fallout from it - failed marriages, death, fear, repression and an escalating mental illness - and the limited ability of those involved to put back the pieces - is what this book is about. I like that they try. I appreciate that the human spirit always strives to repair itself. But, in this case, the horror overshadows the recovery. I can't love that.

I am glad I read this book. I am even more glad that I was able to read without Nick Nolte or Barbara Steisand in my head while I did so. Neither seems to be appropriately cast as the characters of Tom and Susan, and I'm glad I only had the book cover to suggest to my brain that these actors were actually the characters, instead of a whole movie to cement their faces to the names. I enjoyed it a lot more imagining Susan to be the attractive, tall, leggy dark-haired psychiatrist the book described and Tom not having that sun-beaten look that Nolte has.


The Prince of Tides proved to me that it deserves its modern classic status. With an epic story and unforgettable characters, Conroy surprised me with his beautiful language and powerful testament about what the human spirit can endure.

Save The Music

Tonight, after talking to my sister, Maureen, who teaches choir at a Utah high school, I was even more grateful than I originally felt that my children have the kinds of resources and opportunities that they do at their elementary school.  She reminded me that few elementary schools in her district have any kind of music program at the elementary level and I remembered Seth's second grade year, when we lived in Utah, when his poor classroom teacher was also his P.E. teacher.  They didn't have art or music, or maybe Seth's teacher simply didn't feel comfortable teaching it.


The school my boys currently attend reminds me of my own elementary school growing up.  They have a gym teacher and a music teacher and an art teacher and a school counselor and a speech/language pathologist and a gifted and talented teacher.  They have access to aides and field trips and talent shows and science fairs and all sorts of "extra" things that some argue are unnecessary.  Amazingly, fourth and fifth grade students can, if they choose, join the school choir and/or orchestra.  They practice during school hours, once a week on Friday, so anyone can join, not just those who can commit to being there before or after school.  As a result, there were 117 absolutely adorable and unknowingly fortunate boys and girls singing and playing at tonight's concert.  One-hundred and seventeen children electing to participate in a musical event!  And twice that many parents coming to watch and support - never mind the screechy violins and forgotten words.

I know Reading, Writing and Arithmetic are the important fundamentals, but I do believe that exposure to music, art, science, various cultures and diversity when they are young and curious, not to mention much less jaded by what's cool or not, is preferable to no exposure.  And I hope that those in charge, however inefficient they may perform their jobs, try their best to keep music in our schools.

Listening to the orchestra portion of the program.

Isn't that a sight to behold?  This isn't a school program.  All of these kids balance missing some of class and making-up the class-time by either getting their work done early or taking it home to be involved in choir or orchestra.

He did so great, even if he had a hard time staying focused on the conductor.

He went for the low, low bow.

Book Review - Julie and Julia

For a few months there, it seemed like everyone was reading this book.  Then, just as suddenly, everyone was going to the movie.  And liking it!

I wasn't tempted to do either, and felt a bit out-of-sorts being so out of vogue.  Still, I knew I didn't care to read about  a woman who had tried all of Julia Child's recipes found in "Mastering the Art of French Cooking."  Frankly, french cooking turns me off and besides watching Dan Aykroyd satire Julia Child on Saturday Night Live, I didn't really know much about the famous chef either.

When this book showed up in my mailbox as part of a long-distance book club I joined, destiny laughed in my face at my attempt to snub a popular book.  So I read it.

Turns out, my first instinct was the right one.

Julie & I (did you see what I did there?  Huh?  Clever, eh?), the woman who fundamentally hates republicans, seems to have little respect for a husband who amazingly seems to respect her, and who can't seem to formulate a sentence without flaunting her I-will-throw-in-the-F-bomb-anytime-I-feel-like-it mentality, would not get along.  While we both like to blog, and probably both imagine ourselves to be a lot more important than we actually are, we have very little common ground.

For some very undeveloped reason, she begins an obsessive journey to cook all of the hundreds of recipes found in Child's recipe book within the time frame of one year.  Never mind that it means she will have to eat things she finds disgusting, feed meals to her friends, family and husband that they find disgusting, and spend money she doesn't have on ingredients she can't find - she apparently just has to do it!

Lucky for her, her meaningless obsession turned into a lucrative book deal and even more lucrative movie deal.  We should all be so rewarded for focusing the majority of our time and energy on something that benefits so few, if any.  I think, however, that because her story got made into a book, and, crazily, a movie with huge movie stars, her experience was validated as meaning something.  It changed her.  I guess.  Gave her something to proudly say she accomplished.  I guess.  Gave her free range to cuss and cuss at anyone who minded that she cussed.  Definitely.

O.K.  I'll admit it - her tacky swearing in print annoyed me.  Why in the world would someone writing a memoir, with time and a thesaurus and editors on hand, choose to use such a trashy and limited vocabulary in something that will last well beyond their own short life?  I get it in novels.  Some characters think and speak like that.  I even get it in non-fiction.  Hey, much of life is R-rated.  But, in a memoir?  In a I'm-a-pretty-funny-lady memoir?  That's the word you want to use when you have time and plenty of alternatives available?

In the end, I just wanted it to end.  I wanted to know how and if all the eggs and cream and butter and bone marrow mattered.   They don't.   I was tired of reading about her messy and absolutely nauseating kitchen (maggots, people.  Maggots.)  I was really, really tired of Julie.   Not Julia, because she's hardly in the book, but Julie.  That last page, which took awhile to get to after a couple of cruel false endings, couldn't come quick enough.

I still haven't seen the movie.  I've heard it is better than the book.  But, I'm weary and untrusting now.  Meryl and Amy might manage to salvage this story, but I'll never know because I'm not going to succumb a second time.

Once was enough.

Book Review - Certain Girls

Once upon a time, I liked a book titled Good In Bed, by Jennifer Weiner.  I had just been invited to my very first book group, had just given birth to my second son, and had spent the three previous years learning to deal with my new "big girl" status.  The book, though admittedly racy in several places, made me laugh out loud.  I declared myself a fan and lived to regret recommending Good In Bed to too many people who could never appreciate its I'm-embarrassed-that-I'm-bigger-than-my-man perspective.

Fast forward a half dozen years and several more Jennifer Weiner novels and I'm much less enthused about the author's latest offering, Certain Girls.

Even though Certain Girls progresses the story of Cannie Shapiro, the heroine of Good In Bed, Cannie's character had become much less amusing, much more annoying and just as neurotic as ever.  This time, however, Cannie is not the main character.  Her daughter, Joy, who is about to be bat-mitzvahed, is.   Although Weiner uses the multiple point of view narration technique by having Cannie and Joy alternate narrating by chapter, even when Cannie is speaking, it is about Joy - so it feels very much like Joy's story.  And, guess what?  Joy has some issues.

Some of her issues I really appreciated and wish had been better explored.  For instance, Joy really struggles with the knowledge that she was the result of an unplanned and an unwanted pregnancy.  In this day and age when more and more people have babies without any commitment as a couple, Joy's inner dialogue opened my eyes to what is probably a hidden hurt in a lot of children of broken or never formed families.  Joy's confusion is especially keen as her mother is in the process of actively trying for another baby with a husband she adores.

Some of the other issues seemed too inaccessible to be of much concern to me.  The book's plot heavily centered on the coming-of-age Jewish tradition of Bar and Bat Mitzvahs.  Of course I've heard and seen these types of celebrations in a lot of pop culture, but I have never felt so...left out as I did while reading Certain Girls.  It is very...er....Jewish.  I have no problem with Jewish things.  Love the Jews.  But the book is billed, marketed and packaged as a much more mainstream novel.  It could be except for all the heavy emphasis about Joy's, and all her friends, Bat Mitzvahs.  I had no background to understand the cultural significance, or why in the world this formerly loving mother and daughter team were at such odds with each other over what I considered a fancy birthday party.    Obviously, it is more than that, but I think it's more than a little presumptuous to assume that the lay reader should and would understand that.  All of the exclusive Jewish references were a turn off to me.

Lastly, and she seems to do this in all of her stories, the ending was just...too....much.  Weiner is a funny girl.  Humor is her strength.  However, she can't seem to help hyper inflating the drama! It is never your every-day-run-of-the-mill-I've-been-there-too kind of upheaval. Instead, it's the "Seriously? Who does this?" kind of thing.  While I warned myself to expect an unnecessary dramatic climax, even I couldn't have foreseen the "huh?  Why'd she do that?" ending.  Dumb.

With everything added together, the result is a mediocre book.  I didn't hate it but there was little to love either.  I think I may have outgrown Jennifer Weiner as a storyteller.  There are too many other books out there to read to give Weiner, or Cannie, for that matter, any more chances.

Some Things Never Change

Remember this post?

Look who found the chocolate cake again for breakfast.

Celebrate

Today is Henry's birthday. Big H, Noo-nah, King Henry, and, sometimes, unfortunately, just plain ol' Hen (but never Hank), turned four today. This morning, while in the shower, I had a great idea for a poem. I know. Apparently, I only feel moved to rhyme or write in stanzas during the month of January.

Oh, it was going to be fun. Four (his new age) was going to rhyme with more, or galore, or Jersey Shore (kidding. I've never even watched the show. I only know about it because it seems to be mentioned everywhere. They only thing I know about it is that one guy has spiky hair). I had more rhymes than that but none are coming to mind right this minute. But, believe me, it was going to be a cute poem.

Two days ago, however, a monkey wrench got thrown into the entire day. On Monday, a man in my ward passed away and I was asked to bring food as well as sing in a trio at the funeral. Because I didn't know the deceased very well, and because the funeral happened to fall right in the middle of some planned birthday festivities, not to mention there being a plethora of more fun ways I wanted to spend the day, I really wanted to say, "No. Sorry."

But I didn't.

Because I can't.

Turns out, my inability to say, "No" was a good thing today.

I never imagined attending a funeral, while simultaneously celebrating a four year-old's birthday, could be so poignant. While my mind was busy creating rhymes throughout our morning of looking at a house for-sale (liked it), taking Henry to speech therapy, and even throughout his chaotic and unorganized party at McDonald's, sitting in the chapel for an hour, and feeling the spirit as the man's children bore powerful testimony about the Atonement, and eternal life, and the Plan of Salvation, helped me realized that this funeral was a celebration too.

Of Life.

We are born. We turn four. We turn thirty-four. Some may even turn seventy....eighty....ninety-four.

And, then, we die.

That is really only sad when what happens after death is a mystery.  Today, I celebrate Henry's existence - his life - his adorable little body - his mischievous grin.  I love him.

I don't know what tomorrow brings, but I do know, because the spirit witnessed to me again today, that death is not the end.  We are eternal and because of Christ, our broken bodies will be reunited with our spirits and what we celebrate here on Earth will be our everlasting existence.

Happy Birth-day, Henry.

Happy Life, Henry.

Happy You!!!

P.S. I am aware that Henry's cake might possibly be the ugliest cake ever made. Jay was kind and said it was merely in the top three. It was a very, very bad gluten-free food day. Thankfully, my kids don't care and it tasted just fine.

Book Review - Classic #6 - Wuthering Heights

It would seem that Wuthering Heights would be a perfect match for me. Emily Bronte created a novel of love and marriage only hers included tempestuous, and some might add incestuous, relationships, abuse, despair and a very non-happily-ever-after ending (though, some might debate that. The really unhappy people were all finally dead, which, I suppose, is a step up from their miserable and often times, sickly, existence).

I guess I'm not sure what makes this well known title such a beloved classic, other than it is beautifully written and perhaps a break from the mold of what was being written and published at the time. Her sister, Charlotte, had success with Jane Eyre, which is also excluded from the happy-happy-joy-joy plot club, but even that story, with its insanity, scratching, fires and blindness had some characters to root for. Perhaps Emily and Charlotte had a friendly wager on who could write a more tragic love story?

What am I talking about? Wuthering Heights is NOT a love story. If any of these characters felt true love, which is often accompanied by a sincere desire to sacrifice one's happiness for that of another, then I missed it. Instead, Wuthering Heights might just be the model for modern day soap operas where everyone says they love someone, when they aren't too busy plotting their demise and stealing their recently back-from-the-dead sister's baby. Wuthering Heights reminded me of Melrose Place - everyone is flawed and everyone is out to get everyone else. While I am a huge fan of the flawed character, Bronte's seemed overly flawed. What were Heathcliff's redeeming qualities? What in the world did Catherine seem in him? Did he make her laugh? Was it lust? Shared history? I'm assuming the attraction was due to having so much in common as Catherine, at one point, exclaimed, "I am Heathcliff!" Even with their many, many, many available flaws to choose from (selfish, violent, cruel, vengeful), none of the main characters demanded my loyalty. Am I supposed to root for Catherine and Heathcliff or feel sorry for them? I will say I enjoyed the nanny's point-of-view and narration. Now, there's an honestly flawed character! I loved how she passed off any responsibility, even as she was present to witness, and most of the time, allow, all of the bad behavior.

What Bronte did in Wuthering Heights was masterfully describe obsession. Heathcliff's inability to move beyond his first experience with love, with his adoptive sister, Catherine, is what drives this plot and all of its madness. It's not a healthy look, but certainly well crafted. From the description of Wuthering Heights and its proximity to rocky moors and miserable weather, to the dark and cold setting of the house itself, at no point does this story rise above its intentional bleakness. At least, I never felt any rays of sunshine.

This will not find a home on my shelf of favorite fiction, but I hope by reading this classic, I can benefit from understanding the frequent literary and pop culture references to Heathcliff and Catherine.

2009 In Review

Might as well make it an annual thing.

1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before? Went to a U2 concert!!!!  I am not normally a big fan of concerts, but my sisters have been going to U2 shows for years and assured me it would be a good time.   It was, it was, it was.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? My main resolution was to try something new every month.  I'm not sure I managed to get one in once a month, but I did try a lot of new things with that resolution in mind.  I wrote a poem, tried wakeboarding, learned to knit, made homemade peanut brittle and read my first Shakespeare play.  As far as resolutions for 2010,  I'm not making super lofty goals.  I would like to shave 15 minutes off of my Bolder Boulder time (which means a lot more running and less walking) and to have my Christmas cards out by December 15th.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? Several of my friends had babies.  I can't decide if I am jealous or not.


4. Did anyone close to you die?  No one close.  I did sing at a funeral.  Singing "To Where You Are" a la Josh Grobin was not easy with a head cold.  I'm ashamed to admit that I squeaked.

5. What countries did you visit?  No new countries, but, I did see several parts of the US I'd never seen before.  Bear Lake, the Grand Canyon, Petrified National Forest, Painted Desert and Baltimore, Maryland.   I have made a previous travel goal of going abroad every three years and  2010 is a travel year.  Still no idea where I'm going, though.

6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009? I'm not going to say a house of my own.  That would be beating a dead horse.  So, I'll just say a four-wheel drive vehicle for Jay.  And, it wouldn't hurt to park it in a garage that we owned.


7. What date from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? January 15th, Jay had surgery and he and our family got a a big bump up in quality of life.

8. What was your biggest personal achievement of the year? I remember hating this question the last two years. I don't know. Getting atop of Hogsback in spite of having a panic attack was rewarding in a humiliating and enlightening way.   Running and having a ball with Seth at this year's Bolder Boulder.

9. What was your biggest failure? It is currently happening with Henry's potty training. I am reminded on a daily basis that whatever I am doing is not working.  He can, however, get a cheese snack all by himself.

This photo was taken in January.  2009.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? I think we've been a bit sicker than average this year.   Of course, I'm biased as I'm fighting a lingering sinus infection and have been for the past three weeks.  We all got sick the flu, probably H1N1. Henry had his recent surgery. I think Sam may have celiac (I don't know but we are going to be doing some further testing to find out why he has so many stomach upsets). No broken bones, or even trips to the ER, though.

11. What was the best thing you bought? My camera, a Nikon d5000 and my laptop. I'm embarrassed that both fall into the technology category and both are basically for me.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? Jay completed a marathon and qualified for Boston. His parents were called as a temple president and temple matron.  Henry speaks in complete sentences and I have two boys who can now play the piano.  And I deserve a trophy for getting everyone where they needed to be, especially during Seth's football season.

This isn't at his marathon, but it's my favorite running picture of him ever!

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? So, so many. Celebrities, politicians, terrorists, criminals, hypocrites, liars, and Tiger Woods.

14. Where did most of your money go? To our savings account! We still have a ways to go, but we are chipping away at that down payment.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? My front tooth was discolored and after one internal bleaching, it changed from grey to pearly again. Every picture, every smile, every close face-to-face conversation was affected by my dead tooth. Having a normal smile again makes me really, really, really excited.

Buh-bye grey tooth!

16. What song will always remind you of 2009? Gravity by Sara Barellis. I loved the dance on this year's SYTYCD (well...season 5 since there were two seasons this year), but I am just as happy listening to the song without watching Kupono be creepy.



17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? 
b) thinner or fatter? 
c) richer or poorer?
a) Happier. Henry is talking, Jay is swallowing, Seth and Sam are skiing and I feel good about who I am.
b) Neither. I'm about the same as I was at last year's end but I had gained about ten pounds during the year. Next year....different answer!
c) Richer. In more ways than one.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of? Visiting teaching, service, playdates for my kids, going to the temple, following through on good intentions.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Less time-wasting games on the computer. I went through a WordTwist phase, then Typing Maniac phase and now am trying to beat a Bejeweled Blitz obsession.

20. Did you fall in love in 2009?  I just recently fell in love with an ipod touch.  It is sweet.  Again with the technology, though!  Sheesh!

21. What was your favorite TV program? It's definitely So You Think You Can Dance, even with its flaws, but I am a fan of Glee, a lot of the time.  I think it's a fun idea.


22. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? I really hate it when people drive under the 45 mph speed limit going down Florida Rd. My van is prone to brake problems and I now downshift to save my brakes. When I have to brake on top of downshifting, I get little fits of rage.  But, of course, I don't actually hate the person driving.   If I did, that would be embarrassing.

23. What was the best book you read? Oh, I've been so disappointed in my book reading this year. I'm glad I'm doing the classics, but hate that people were right about it stealing my reading mojo. It's hard! Before that all began, I read, loved and gushed about The Help.  I also enjoyed Cutting For Stone, The Forever War, City of Thieves and Gilead.

24. What was your greatest musical discovery? The 500 Days of Summer soundtrack and Beethoven's Wig CD. My kids are rattling off names like Franz Listz and Haydn and I couldn't be happier.

25. What did you want and get? Season passes to ski this winter. And, I finally got my van detailed.

26. What did you want and not get? I really wanted Jay to come for part of our summer trip. He did not want me to tell him what to do and reprimanded me for not having the courtesy to ask. Hopefully, our miscommunication will not happen again.

I will drive 1,000 miles to see my favorite brother:)

27. What was your favorite film of this year? I loved UP. It makes me happy that a movie marketed to kids was actually a really, really good movie. And 500 Days of Summer was a really fun grown-up movie. I'm a fan of any movie that has its characters spontaneously break out into song and dance.



28. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I turned 34. I spent the day at the lake and dinner with friends and family. It could only have been better had someone spontaneously broken into song and dance.

29. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?  If I could learn to articulate my feelings in a calm and rational manner when I am unhappy or frustrated, without hurting, or worrying about hurting, the feelings of others, my whole life would be more satisfying.  My current method of giving the silent treatment, even to vendors who do me wrong, is quite ineffective.

30. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008? Shade shirt underneath blouse, with jeans.

31. What kept you sane? My family, Jay's sense of humor, modern medicine, bad dancing and sleep number 35!

Overheard

It's Christmas break.  The rules are relaxed.

But, my boys don't know that.

Both Seth and Sam received Nintendo DS Lites from Mom and Dad for Christmas.  They were originally Santa gifts, but after Sam overheard me telling my sister to be sure and remind me to pay her for the DS she purchased for me, one cat was out of the bag.  I fibbed (an entire post was missed due to my irregular posting habit about the art of lying at Christmas) and explained that, yes, Seth was going to get a DS.  Could he please keep it a secret?  He was sad that he wasn't getting one, but reassured that if I thought he was old enough after watching Seth play with his, perhaps he could get one for his birthday in January (does keeping the element of Christmas surprise negate the sin of lying?)

Needless to say, Sam was delighted, and for one short millisecond, confused, when he opened his own DS.  I hugged him and told him, "Merry Christmas" and hoped he didn't connect the dishonesty dots too quickly.  

Now, I purposely chose the DS lite because I did NOT want my nine and six year old to have internet access, nor did I want to pay more for a service I would only disable.  What I didn't realize, however, is that when DS lites are close enough to each other, a "chat" connection is possible.  The boys quickly discovered this and I watched amusedly as they sat side by side on the couch, "chatting."    I have no problem with it as long as they don't develop the obnoxious habit of text language.  I am seriously worried about the future of the English language after reading teenage text messages.

Tonight, I had my own moment of discovery while eavesdropping.   Seth, apparently unaware of how well sound carries from the basement to the living room, explained to Sam how, "if you put one headphone in, you can easily hear Mom or Dad coming down the hallway."  The plan is for the DSes to break out after lights out and to continue their conversation via DS chat.

My kids know me well enough to know that I don't have the personality to be o.k. with electronics in bed after lights out.  Secret under the covers book reading? I'd turn a blind eye.   Lego light saber fighting?  Um...no.  Unless it's Christmas break.

What adds to my amusement is the fact that Seth has been in his own room for less than two weeks.  With only a shared wall in between our bedrooms, I have spent the better part of the last four years listening to the two of them chat after goodnights have been said.  I have also listened to one or the other, but usually Sam, come out and complain about the other one keeping them away with an unrequited desire to chat.

I can't hear any noise coming from either bedroom.

I sit here, with a smile on my face.

Wondering if I should walk down the hall.

Where Everybody Knows His Name

After returning from Denver where Henry had surgery for meatal stenosis, Jay told his parents how by the day's end, about ten nurses appeared to say goodbye to their new favorite patient, Henry.

Henry has a certain Je ne sais quoi.  Where ever he is, people seem to notice.  During Seth's soccer season, I heard more than one parent refer to Seth as, "Henry's big brother."  And these were people I didn't know.  I think they just heard me calling Henry's name.

From the airplane to the hospital, Henry found more fans for his fan club.  I don't know if it's his glasses, his small stature, his round face or blond hair, but whatever it is, I sure enjoy being part of his entourage.

Here we are boarding the plane for Denver.  He's been in an airplane before, but only as an infant.  He loved his window seat and cup of sprite.

Unfortunately, there was a mix up and his surgery was later than we were told.  It was hard to keep him happy, because Henry's favorite thing is eating any time he feels like it and he had to be fasting pre-surgery, but this boy helped for a half hour by asking him to play ball with him.

Waiting with Dad.



Waiting with Mom.

Then we got called back to the pre-op area.  Henry had fun exploring some of the buttons.

He was extra excited that he got to be on a bed with wheels.

Nurses of pediatric patients are good at what they do.  They handed Henry his very own beach ball and the hour before his surgery and it kept him very happy.

Which hand is the ball in, right or left?

Right! (His right and left were the same right and left as Jay, who was sitting opposite of him.  We didn't correct him).

Jay, Henry and I had a good game of catch going on.

But, then he got too excited and we told him he shouldn't be so loud.  So he was sad.

But, then he remembered he had fun, new yellow socks!  All is well!

He got to sign his own release form.  Dad signed too.

Time to put the cap on.  Henry style.

This picture helps me get it.  No wonder the nurses were loving him.



Jay went in with him for anesthesia.  Only one parent could go in, and Jay holds the trump card in hospital procedure rooms.

The surgery was very short; only about twenty minutes, and then we just had to wait for him to wake up from the anesthesia.  It took him longer than either we or the nurses expected, but when he did come out of it, he was mellow and calm.  The grape Popsicle helped.

Welcome back, buddy.  You did great.



I wish we could report that all potty issues have now been solved, but that isn't the case.  We continue to work on it, but the surgery was successful and he can now pee straight, which will help a lot.  Every time I get consumed with frustration, he blinks his big blue eyes at me and says, "I forgive you."

Wouldn't you be a fan too?